Pure Poison

A/N: this is my first time writing for these characters, so I hope I can do them justice. The idea for this just came to me, but it takes place probably a few episodes ago, most likely some time after 3x07: Dark Hollow.

"Emma! We need to get out of here now! Run!" Mary Margaret yelled to me. Peter Pan and a group of his Lost Boys were chasing us, and we knew there was almost no chance of us fighting them off, especially when it was just the two of us.

We ran through the forest, trying to outrun them, but they knew the land so much better than we did, and we were tripping over roots and running into trees at every turn. Mary Margaret ran ahead of me, and she was starting to go a little bit faster than me.

All of a sudden, there was a large tree root under me, and I tripped over it and fell to the ground, letting out a small yelp. Mary Margaret didn't hear me and kept running.

A Lost Boy saw that I had fallen, and an evil smirk crossed his face. I tried to crawl away from him, but I seemed to have lost all strength in my arms and legs. I raised my arms to cover my face as he lifted up his sword.

He sliced the palm of my hand with the sword and, oh, did it burn. There was some kind of bird call in the distance, and it seemed to have caught the Lost Boy's attention, because he ran away from me and toward the sound. It seemed to be my lucky break, for he probably would've killed me if he had not been pulled away by the call.

I looked at my hand to assess the damage. It seemed to be just a simple cut, but it was deep, and hurt badly. I found a soft-looking vine and yanked it off a tree to wrap it around my hand to soak up some of the blood.

I stood up and started to make my way toward our camp, where we had been heading in the first place. I reached the camp within five minutes and found everyone pacing around in circles, extremely worried faces on everyone.

"Emma! There you are! I thought you were right behind me!" Mary Margaret cried out, rushing over to me almost in tears.

"Yeah, I got kinda held up," I replied shortly.

"What happened to your hand there?" Hook asked, eyeing the vine.

"Oh, one of the Lost Boys cut me. It's not that bad," I lied. The searing pain hadn't yet subsided like a normal wound would have, but I did not need to worry them any more than they already were. There were more important things at stake beside my health.

"Let me see that," Hook said, walking closer to me.

I rolled my eyes, not seeing the point in getting so worked up over a little cut. Hook took my hand and began unraveling the vine.

I heard gasps around me and looked up to see that everyone in our camp—David, Mary Margaret, and Neal—were all standing around me as Hook revealed the wound.

I almost gasped myself, but I held it in so I wouldn't scare the others. The wound had grown. What had only been a small cut before had spread across my entire hand, turning shades of red and purple.

"I believe I've seen this before," Hook announced. To a stranger, his voice may have sounded confident and unconcerned, but to someone who knew him at least a little better, I could hear the worry and slight terror in it. "It's a rare form of poison that Pan has learned how to use as a weapon. He barely ever resorts to using it because it is so rare, but on certain powerful enemies, he must use even his most rare and evil sources of magic."

"How long does she have?" Neal asked, not even trying to hide the terror in his voice.

Hook looked from my eyes to Neal and answered, almost in a whisper, "I'd guess a week at most."

"Well is there a cure?" Mary Margaret almost yelled. "Of course there is! There has to be! Magic wouldn't just allow there to be a poison that can kill without a cure!" She began pacing around the camp and I could tell that she was rambling on just to calm her nerves.

Hook looked straight into my eyes when he answered, "There is only one cure I know of."

"What is it?" I asked nervously, sensing that there wasn't going to be an easy answer to the question.

Hook turned around and walked a little ways away from me. Looking at the ground, he quietly answered, "True love's kiss."

I felt my jaw drop. It seemed like such an easy cure, but I could see my dilemma. I wasn't even sure I had a 'true love' anymore, or if I could ever feel that way about someone again.

Suddenly I felt Neal pulling my arm and almost dragging me into the forest.

"Where are you taking me?" I yelled, extremely annoyed at his abruptness.

He pulled me into a small clearing behind some trees. He cupped my face with both his hands and rested his forehead against mine. "I'm not going to let you die."

"Neal, I don't know—" I tried to answer, but he pulled me closer to him and pressed his lips against mine. It was one of the most awkward and rushed kisses I had ever experienced (though sadly not the worst).
When I managed to pull myself away from his grasp, he looked down at my hand expectantly. I half-hoped it had worked, but knew that my heart just didn't love Neal the way it used to.

"Maybe it just takes a little while for it to work?" Neal suggested hopefully.

"Maybe," I answered to satisfy him a little better. I knew it didn't work.

I walked back into the camp and found both my parents looking at me expectantly. It was a little awkward that they seemed to both just know that Neal had pulled me away to kiss me, almost as awkward as if they had actually watched it. I saw Hook sitting on a log on the opposite corner of the camp, drawing circles in the dirt with a stick. He had a look on his face like he had just tasted something sour.

I shook my head at my parents to let them know that it didn't work, that I wasn't healed. They both had looks of terrible despair, and I knew that it was because they thought all hope was lost. Hook looked up at me, and though I only looked at him through the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him give a small smile.

The rest of the day, everyone was silent. It was one of the most depressing nights I had ever experienced. We all prepared for bed, and I'm pretty sure both Neal and my mother cried themselves to sleep.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, I realized I wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. I stood up and walked away from the camp, just needing a bit of a change of scenery.

I had walked for about five minutes before I heard some leaves rustling behind me. I quickly took out my sword and turned around, only to find that my sword was inches from Hook's head.

"Hook!" I whisper-yelled. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, love."

I looked away from him. "Don't call me that," I said softly.

"What, love? Why shouldn't I call you that?" He asked jokingly. Then in a more serious tone, he added, "I've already told you how I feel about you. You are my love."

I hesitated for only a second before I turned back to face him and reached up to kiss him.

I felt him hesitate for the briefest of seconds before he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around me to pull me in closer to him.

Unlike when Neal had kissed me earlier, I knew that this was the cure for the poison. I knew that Hook was my true love.

I reluctantly pulled away from him and looked down at my hand. The discoloring of the wound was quickly fading and the cut itself was beginning to close.

I looked up at Hook, who was smirking at me.

"I knew it," was all he said.

A/N: Well that went in a completely different direction than I thought it would, but I like it! I hope you liked it too! Please please please review!