Chapter Text
Leaves delicately crunched underfoot, the crying once again reached Emma’s ears. She tried to ignore it, block it out; Christ, she hated Neverland. Her honeyed locks flipped over her shoulder as she looked behind her, the flickering flames of the campfire lighting up the flora around the makeshift shelters. Emma smiled, the light danced across Mary-Margaret’s face; she looked so peaceful wrapped up in David’s arms, both of them fast asleep. Although she felt abandoned, although she felt angry, and although their relationship was oh, so complicated; Emma loved them both dearly, and wouldn’t have traded her parents for anything in the world.
As Emma edged further away from the campsite, she slipped just out of sight, leaning against a tree, and taking a deep breath. Her fingers reached down to the hem of her vest, and, hands shaking, she slowly rolled it up to just under her bust. She bent her neck down, a wince and gasp escaping her as she ground her teeth, the pulsing, purple slice across her ribs making her eyes widen. “What the hell?” Emma growled, letting her shirt fall again. She leaned around the tree to look back at the campsite, seeing a hooked arm emerge from one of the shelters as the pirate shifted in his sleep. Emma rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, at letting herself get hit. With a grunt, she pulled herself away from the tree and back towards the fire, sitting by it to warm herself up.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she awoke it was still dark, the fingertips of sunlight just beginning to lighten the horizon. The fire was now a small pile of smouldering coals, and Emma shimmied closer, clinging on to what little warmth was left. She watched the sky for a while, her hair splayed out under her head, mud clinging to it but she didn’t care. With a grimace she sat up, baring her teeth at the pain her side, her hand lifting to gently press the wound but it only made it worse; she bit her lip to prevent a sharp yelp. Emma rolled her lip between her teeth as she very slowly, and very carefully, stood up. Everyone else was still asleep, and Emma’s eyes rolled over the campsite, trying to thing of anything she could do. One of her hands slipped into her hair. “Water,” She whispered.
Leaving her bag, but taking her sword – so everyone knew she was okay – and wineskin, Emma trundled out of the camp. She didn’t stray too far, making sure she could still see the dying smoke of the fire pit, knowing that she could shout for help and still be heard, should Pan appear. She smirked a little, wondering if Pan was at all like BeetleJuice; would he appear if she said his name three times? She doubted it, but it was an amusing thought, and thinking back to her old life, her life that didn’t have any magic, didn’t have any Neverland and was so much easier to deal with, was refreshing.
Eventually, Emma came across a small pool. The water was a shimmering silver, a striking difference to the dark forest and jungle around her, but at the same time it was clear; she could see the mottled pebbles on the bed as if looking through a thin sheet of glass. A small stream appeared to cut through it, snaking in at one end of the pool with a small waterfall, and slithering out at the other with a gentle babbling brook. With a slight crunch of the undergrowth, Emma sank to her knees, immediately submerging her hands into the cool water, a sigh of relief flooding through her.
She withdrew her hands, quickly and messily tucking her hair behind her ears, before lowering her face to the pool. Her hands were then in the water once again, cupped together and scooping the icy liquid into her mouth, though a great deal of it dribbled down her chin and neck, sparkling in the creeping sunlight. Emma sat up again, pulling her wineskin from her belt. It wasn’t the most robust drinking vessel; the neck was a tad to wide for the cork, so it occasionally leaked, particularly if she accidentally leant on it, but she hadn’t though to bring a water bottle with her, and it was the only thing she could find on Hook’s ship.
Emma removed the cork, and held the wineskin under the water until the bubbles stopped. She lifted the dripping leather out of the pool, and plugged it with the cork, putting the vessel on the ground next to her, and gently splashing her face with water. She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was taking it’s time to light up the sky, and Emma knew the others back at the camp probably wouldn’t be awake yet, as the stars were still twinkling above, but only just; and even if they were awake, travel wouldn’t be safe until they had daylight. She pursed her lips ever so slightly, debating this opportunity of a soak in the pond. She missed the bath and shower at Mary-Margaret’s apartment, and going this long without submerging herself in some body of water (other than throwing herself off of the Jolly Roger) felt wrong.
Yep, she was going to do it. Emma began to wrestle off her boots, placing them next to the wineskin, and shoving her socks inside them. She shimmied out of her trousers, and very carefully deprived herself of her shirt, worried about brushing the cut with the now coarse material. Emma gently pulled her breast to the side, attempting to get a look at the damage a little better in the faint light of dawn. She couldn’t help the worry in her eyes as she gazed at the throbbing wound, her brow furrowing. It hadn’t been the light last night, the gash across her ribs was not only purple, but so was the skin around it, dark veins spilling out.
Emma closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, before removing her bra and her underwear, and slowly stepping into the water. “Oh, shit!” She squeaked, splashing a little as the cold made contact with her skin. She awkwardly stood at the edge of the pool, her arms wrapped around her chest as she waited for her skin to get used to the cool water, and very slowly, she moved further in. When she was finally submerged up to her shoulders, Emma let her feet leave the pool bed, and allowed herself to float, trying to ignore the sting on her ribs. A small chuckle broke past her lips; she felt so relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever; being a bail bonds woman wasn’t the most chilled out job, and coming to Storybrooke? Every day was a new adventure, or rescue mission, or something of the like. As the stars began to fade above her, she new her time was nearly up, and she made her way out of the pool, and began to redress.
As Emma made her way back into the camp, Mary-Margaret ran up to wrap her in a firm embrace, David not far behind. “Oh, Emma! Where were you? We were so worried,” She chided, trying to put on her best motherly voice. Emma chuckled slightly.
“I was just topping up my water,” She replied. Her mother gave her a stern look, before smiling at her fondly.
“Oh for crying out loud,” The Queen rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Peter Pan is out there, and he has my son. Care to get this little song and dance over with?” She shook her head, eyes shifting between Mary-Margaret and Emma. The blonde rolled her eyes, sauntering over to the fire to collect her bag.
“Good morning to you too, Regina,” She mumbled. “But, she does have a point. We need to find Henry.”
“Glad that’s something we agree on.” Regina retorted, straightening up her jacket.