Cheers to Forever, Love.

Baelfire

Chapter Four.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Freya clawed at the sand on East End beach in Portland, tears that glistened in the moonlight streamed down her face.
She soon gave up, rolling into a ball on the floor in a growing puddle of tears. All she could think about was Killian.
"Are you okay ma'am?" A male voice came from behind her.
"He's gone... I can never go back..." She whispered to avoid hearing her voice crack.
"Who's gone?" The man asked.
Freya covered balled up her fists and rubbed her eyes as she moved to lay on her back.
"My love..." She replied.
"Oh man... I'm sorry." He replied, finally earning a small glance from the Heretic.
He was a somewhat tall man with a kind face and dark hair that was short but still a little shaggy. He smiled down at her, holding out his hand.
"Can I take you for a coffee? I know this great twenty-four hour place a few blocks away." He asked. "You look like you could do with a friend."
Freya thought for a moment. Why not?
"Fine. But I could probably do with something a little stronger than coffee."
The man chuckled. "For a moment there I thought you were just going to take the coffee option. This is better. C'mon." Freya took the hand he was holding out and heaved herself up from the sand. "What's your name?"
"Freya."
"Well Freya, it's nice to meet you. I'm Neal."

At the nearest bar, Freya could feel twenty questions coming on. They sat down on a couple of stools and got a Bourbon each.
"So, if you don't mind my asking, what did you mean when you said you lost him?" Neal asked, placing his glass down after taking a sip.
"We were separated. It's like he's in a whole other world." Freya sighed, fiddling with the napkin under her drink.
"Well he's not dead, at least. Until then, there's always a chance you could see each other again." Neal shrugged.
"He could be dead for all I know..." Freya refused to let the fresh tears stinging her eyes loose.
"Did something happen?" He asked.
"I messed with the wrong Witch." Freya chuckled humourlessly, taking a large gulp of her Bourbon.
"Well there's a new one." Neal smiled. "What's this love's name?"
Tears pricked Freya's eyes at the mere thought.
"Killian." She finally whispered.
"That's an unusual name. It's weird that I've actually heard it before. That was a long time ago and very far away though. He was like a father to me for a time. He made me realise my love for the sea, taught me how to tie different knots, how to defend myself, how to be a leader..." Neal fell into some sort of reminiscent trance. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling."
"No, it's fine. He actually sounds a lot like my Killian. Don't suppose he was a Captain, was he?" Freya raised an eyebrow, but made it clear that she was being sarcastic.
Neal's face fell.
"Actually, yes..." He frowned. "He was."
Freya's eyes widened a little. "There's no way it's the same man... It's impossible."
"Killian Jones." Neal said.
A tear Freya wasn't aware existed slipped down her cheek as her lips parted slightly in shock.
"Baelfire..." She gasped.
Neal was in a state of utter bewilderment.
"You know me?"
"I know of you. Killian spoke of you often and fondly. He always said sending you to Pan was the biggest mistake he ever made." Freya leaned over slightly and touched his fingers with hers.
She quickly noticed that she wasn't the only one getting emotional now.
"Yeah, well he's got a funny way of showing it." Neal sighed, finishing his drink.
"Do you have a way back? I'll pay whatever you want. I need him. This past hour or so has been a great distraction, but eventually we'll have to part and I don't think I can bare being alone." Freya pleaded.
Neal sighed, staring down at his empty glass.
"I don't. I'm sorry, Freya. I wish I could help." He told her, genuinely.
"Of course..." She whispered, sinking down into her seat.

After another much needed distraction and a few more drinks, Neal walked Freya back to the beach.
"Where will you go?" He asked her, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his mud brown coat.
"I have a house just round the block. If it hasn't been sold by now, I'll stay there." The Heretic replied.
"Then I'll say goodnight." Neal smiled and began to search his pockets for something. He removed his hand to reveal a screwed up receipt and a tattered pencil. "Here's my number and address if you need anything."
He quickly scribbled on the piece of paper and put it into her hand.
"Thank you Neal. I won't forget your kindness tonight." Freya told him.
"You're most welcome, Freya. I hope to hear from you soon." He gave a small nod before walking off down the beach.

Freya turned the two minute walk into ten as she was left with her thoughts. But eventually, she found herself at the white picket fence to her former house.
Attached to the fence was a 'For Sale' sign, which caused Freya to wonder why the large, picturesque house hadn't been scooped up by a wealthy family or investor.
She ripped the sign from the fence and uttered a spell, causing the sign to burst into flames before she dumped it in the trash and went to the front door.
With a wave of her hand, the latch unlocked and the Heretic walked right in.
All of her belongings were still where she had left them the year before, only under dust sheets.
Out of pure curiosity, she attempted the light switch, but to no avail, so went to the dining room to fetch her candle stick.
With a simple click of her fingers, the candle was lit.
Freya went to the kitchen, instantly going for two unopened bottles of Scotch.
Upstairs, she put the candlestick and Scotch down, threw the dust sheet from her bed and laid down, instantly curling into a ball and breaking down into floods of tears.

Freya awoke the next day, instantly spying the now empty bottles of Scotch by the pillow next to her.
For a moment, she was content, but quickly remembered the events of her yesterday.
Less than twenty-four hours before, she had been in the arms of the man she loved – how she had taken his touch for granted; every kiss now a memory.
She sat up, attempting to decide what to do with her day.
Eventually, she elected to seek out Emma. She had, after all, spent the last year missing and worrying about her.

After getting dressed into some clothes that made her look less like she'd just walked off the set of the latest pirate movie – which consisted of high-waisted, fitted blue jeans, a black corset tucked into those, black leather walking boots and a black leather jacket – she made her way out of the house, hailing the nearest taxi to the adoption agency she had met Emma through.
"Good afternoon ma'am. How may I help you?" The middle-aged woman at the front desk greeted her.
Freya was fully aware of the fact that she wouldn't be able to get the information she needed by simply asking, so opted to use one of her Vampire gifts – compulsion.
"Yes." She replied, staring deeply into the woman's eyes. "Give me everything you have on Emma Swan."
"Of course." The woman replied dully, getting up to go to the filing cabinet a few feet behind the desk.
Freya waited, tapping her fingers against the desk impatiently, as she waited for Emma's file.
"If you could hurry up a bit, that'd be great." The Heretic sighed.
"Right here." The woman smiled, simply handing the file over like it was nothing.
"Thank you."
"Have a great day!" The woman grinned with an all-too bubbly tone for Freya's liking.

Her next stop was the nearest coffee shop.
She ordered a latte and sat down in the back corner of the café, instantly digging her nose into the file.

September 1996.

Miss Swan was found during a visit, unaccompanied. She neglected to tell the adoption officer on duty where her foster mother; Freya Klay had gone. Upon further inspection, I conclude that Ms Klay has abandoned her duties as a care giver and must immediately bring the child in question back into child custody.

April 1997.

Miss Swan has been moved to a foster home in Richfield, Minnesota. Miss Swan appears to be in high spirits and gets along impressively with her foster mother; Ingrid. We at the agency have reason to believe that Ms Ingrid plans to adopt Miss Swan.

As Freya read through the entries, she became confused as to how to feel. Whilst she was delighted that Emma was happy in her new home, she wished more than anything that she could give her an explanation as to her whereabouts over the past year. But that wasn't likely to happen, given the emotional distress it would place on Emma.
Freya closed the file and gave a saddened sigh.
All seemed hopeless.