Strange Places

Emma Swan sat in the Sheriff's station, her head in her hands. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there -maybe minutes, maybe hours- but she hadn't moved. Not a muscle. Not as the yellow sun passed over her face through the gap in the curtain. Not as it lit the faded colours of the room, and revealed the piles of paperwork, or the empty polystyrene coffee cups left abandoned all over the desk.

She scraped her fingers through her hair and resisted the urge to scream. She thought that once she knew about the curse, things would be easier. But that wasn't the case. Instead of being easy, everything suddenly turned much more difficult. Before, she was just dealing with people. Not fairytale people.

Mainly, Captain Hook.

"We've searched the docks. He's nowhere to be found," David said heavily, sinking into the chair opposite her.

"His ship?" asked Emma.

"We searched that last week. He may be a pirate, but I doubt he'd be stupid enough to go there."

"We should search again," she said. She didn't mean her voice to sound so snappy, but everything seemed to be getting on her last nerve recently. "I mean, he was stupid enough to shoot Belle," she added, as a clarification. She didn't want to insinuate that David hadn't been trying hard enough, but she didn't want to rule out the possibility of the ship.

"And join forces with the enemy," David said, grimly. He placed his hands on his hips.

"David, he is the enemy."

"I know that."

Emma ran her hands through her hair again. She needed to think.

They'd been looking for Hook for the past two weeks, after he broke out of hospital. Not only for his sake - it was a bad move to make after being hit by a car - but also for the safety of other Storybrooke residents. Though Hook seemed to have finished with inflicting misery on Belle, no-one knew if that was for sure. He may have lost her her memory, but who was to say his real motive wasn't to kill her? What if he came back to finish her off?

But it was proving hard to protect Belle when she couldn't even remember who shot her in the first place, or why. In fact, she was fully convinced her name was Lacey. It was all very strange. And as much as Emma would have liked to escape crazy cuckoo land, she was stuck playing the town's saviour.

Again.

The door flew open. Emma immediately reached for her gun, ready to put a bullet in his pirate brain if she had to.

But she needn't have worried.

Mary Margaret stood, pale and breathing heavily, in the doorway. Her hair stuck out in odd places and Emma had the strange desire to go over there and flatten it for her. Instead, she slipped her gun back in her belt.

Her heart didn't slow down. By the way Mary Margaret was breathing, she must have something big to tell them. She wouldn't have ran all this way for nothing.

"It's- Hook-" she gasped, clutching her side. "We've found him."

Emma jumped up from her desk. Paperwork fell around her like oddly shaped feathers. "You've found him?"

"You're sure?" said David, unable to hide his surprise. He exchanged a glance with Emma, eyebrows raised.

"Very. We've got him! Quick, come on!"

She disappeared out the door. David and Emma rushed after her, leaving the door wide open. They followed her out the station and down the street. Even though she was a deal shorter than both of them, they struggled to keep up. Mary Margaret dashed like a rabbit.

"Where is he?" asked Emma as they hurried past Gold's shop.

"Down at the docks."

"The docks? I thought we searched the docks?" She threw a sharp look at David, who suddenly looked very sheepish.

"We did," confirmed Mary Margaret. "But he was hiding on his ship."

"He went back to his ship?" said David, wearing a strange smile. "Stupid pirate."

They followed her down to the docks. The sea sparkled in the sunlight, like millions of crystals were under the blue waters. Emma shielded her eyes from the sun. The wind whipped her hair about her face in whichever direction she turned.

She followed them onto Hook's ship. Her eyes traced the blue and yellow paintwork, chipped from hundred's of years worth of sailing. Creaking masts towered above them. Emma ran her hands over the thick rope. She wouldn't have told anyone this, but Captain Hook's ship awed her. Stood upon the wooden deck, with her hair lashing around her in the salty air, she was beginning to feel like a fairytale character.

"Where is he?" she called over the wind.

"In his cabin," said Mary Margaret. She made her way across the deck and down the stairs, followed closely by David.

"Right."

Emma and followed them down the steps, careful not to trip.

"Ah, Swan. How nice to see you," came a voice as soon as her boots touched the floor.

She turned around, arms folded, face set. "I'm sure it is."

She was surprised by the sight that greeted her. From the tone of Hook's voice, she half expected him to be prowling around the cabin, but instead he was tied to a chair, arms pulled behind his back. He looked enormous in the cabin, which was smaller than Emma anticipated. She had expected the Captain's room to be a little more glamorous and not so cramped. But if he suffered any discomfort, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked right at home.

Despite his manner, she had to admit he seemed a little worse for wear. His stubble was less stubble and more beard, he was sickly pale and there were purple shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in a few days. Emma wondered where he had been sleeping. He can't have been on his ship. When they searched it last time, he wasn't there.

On the streets, maybe? Dingy back alleys?

"He put up a fight," said Mary Margaret, grimly. Her arms were folded. She was watching Hook with her eyebrows raised, so much like her daughter.

Emma turned to Mary Margaret. "You got him singlehandedly? I'm impressed."

"I hit him over the head," she said. "With that vase." She nodded to pieces of an ugly, flowered pot which were scattered across the floor.

"I didn't think you were the vase type," Emma told Hook, a smirk playing around her lips.

"There are many things you don't know about me, love," Hook said, his voice like a purr. "For example, you're probably not aware that I am excellent at undoing knots… with my arms behind my back."

David took two heavy steps forward and drew his sword with a clang. He pointed it to Hook's throat. "You better be lying, pirate."

"Of course he's lying," scoffed Emma. "If he could have got out, he would have got out already."

"Is that so?" Hook challenged, but his voice shook a little. He swallowed. A bead of blood surfaced where the tip of the blade met his skin.

Emma turned to David. "We need to move him. He can't be imprisoned in his own ship. We need to get him to the sheriff's station."

"You're right."

"Now?" asked Mary Margaret.

"Now," Emma confirmed. "I've had his cell prepared for the past week."

"How thoughtful," said Hook, though his voice wasn't a purr anymore. It was a snarl. The thought made Emma smile. She was starting to believe nothing could get past that armour of his.

"Let's move."

They grouped around him, eyes on Hook. David threw his sword over to Emma. She immediately pointed it at his chest, just above that necklace he always wore.

"You try anything," he said to Hook. "And she runs you through. Clear?"

Hook gave a pained smile. "Crystal."

Without taking his eyes off the pirate in front of him, David crouched down beside the chair and began to untie the knots. When he was done he grabbed Hook by his leather collar and pulled him to his feet. Hook groaned in pain.

"Watch it," he snarled. "I still have a few broken ribs there."

"Maybe you shouldn't have shot Belle, then," said Emma. "Move."

He gave her a long look of not exactly hatred, but it wasn't pleasant either. It was a look of revenge and though Emma would never admit it, it chilled her to the bone. She'd seen what he'd do for revenge. If his stories were true, he'd been riding the revenge train for the past three hundred years. Though Emma was excellent at the whole unforgiving thing, she doubted she could hold a grudge for that long.

And suddenly, she pitied him.

David shoved him forward. Mary Margaret went first, up the hatch and out onto the deck, and then Hook followed, using his now free hand and hook. David next and finally, Emma. As soon as she stepped out up onto the deck, that familiar breeze turned her hair into a tornado.

"We need to get him back to the cell," David shouted over the wind. "Before the storm kicks in."

Together, they marched Hook off deck.

A few hours later, Emma sat in the sheriff's station. Her feet rested on the desk, next to a mountain of paperwork, and she sipped on black, sugarless coffee. She was facing away from Hook, who was trapped in the cell behind her. He hadn't made a sound since he arrived. When she glanced over at him to check he was still there, she saw he was sulking. He glared down at his hand and hook. His eyes looked darker than usual, probably because they were narrowed. Despite his stance, he was still as handsome as always. Emma hated herself for thinking so.

The door opened. They both looked up to see David walk in, carrying a bag of doughnuts.

"How's it going?" he asked as he threw the doughnuts down beside her.

Emma picked up the bag and peered inside. They smelled delicious, like the inside of a bakery.

"Things just got a whole lot better," she said, closing the bag back up.

"How've things been with-" he cocked his head in Hook's direction.

"I'm not bloody deaf," snapped the pirate.

"Oh, you know. He hasn't said much. Probably knows I'd just ignore him anyway."

"I am here, you know."

Emma reached for a doughnut. She took a big bite, and lost herself in a world of sugar and icing. It was delicious. No-one made them like Granny did. She made a note to get them more often. They'd break up a day of sitting in the station, waiting for something to happen.

"You know, it's bad form to keep an innocent man locked up in the brig," came Hook's voice. "When are you going to let me out?"

"Innocent man?" Emma planted her feet firmly on the floor and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "How'd you work that one out?"

"I didn't do anything wrong. The damn crocodile had it coming. You don't know how many lives he's destroyed, how many people he's hurt. He needed to suffer, to-"

"And yet you hurt Belle," Emma said.

"Aye. And in doing so, I've hurt him."

Emma sighed and ignored him. Instead, she turned to David who was glaring at Hook with his arms folded. "I don't think we should let him out for a while," she said. "You've heard how he's talking. He's dangerous."

"I agree," said David, frowning. "And we don't know if he's still working for Cora."

Cora. Emma had almost forgotten about Cora. They still didn't have any idea what she was planning. She'd tried to ask Hook, when he was chained up in hospital, but she couldn't get anything out of him. But one thing she was sure about; when he said he didn't have any idea where Cora was, he was telling the truth.

But she couldn't take a chance.

"We'll keep him here," said Emma. "I don't know how for. But he's better in here than wandering the streets of Storybrooke."

"For everyone's sake and his own. Gold will probably kill him first chance he gets."

"Oh Dave, I didn't know you cared," simpered Hook from his cell.

Emma's eyes snapped to him. He was no longer sat, scowling at his hand. That hand was wrapped around a bar, his face resting against the cool metal.

David took slow steps towards him until they were nose-and-nose. He wrapped his own hands around the bars.

"Let's get this straight," he said in a low voice. "I don't care. Gold could come in and kill you right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid. It would solve one of my problems. But we don't do things that way. We believe that every life is worth saving, even yours. That's something someone like you will never understand."

"Someone like me?" snarled Hook. "And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"David..." Emma warned.

"I will never be friends with you. Do you hear me? You're selfish, you're stupid and quite frankly, you disgust me. I have fought people like you my whole life. But I do it properly. Morally."

"You have no idea the sacrifices I have made to-"

"Sacrifices? Gold took my whole family from me. He created a curse that ripped me from my life - my happy life. I was forced to send my only daughter through a wardrobe, and I missed twenty-eight years of her life. For those twenty-eight years I didn't even know who my wife was. Where's my revenge plot? My desire to punish those who'd wrong me?"

Hook didn't say anything. He clenched his jaw and stared right into David's face. You could have cut through the tension with a knife. Then David turned away, his own face slowly turning a shade of purple. Hook's had lost all colour.

"I need some air," he murmured to Emma. "Enjoy the doughnuts."

He strode out the door and slammed it behind him. Emma winced at the noise. She'd never seen David so angry before. At least, not like this. She shrugged it off and sunk back into her chair. She'd hardly been sitting there a moment when-

"So it's just you and I, beautiful."

She closed her eyes and sighed. Did he never give it a rest? The last thing she wanted was Hook to get to her as well. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. If she didn't talk to him then maybe he'd just go back to sulking quietly.

"I love the silent types."

She kept her lips tightly closed.

"And I love a challenge."

On the word challenge, her eyes snapped open. She couldn't help herself. She turned around to face him. He was still in the same position, staring at her intently. His rings glittered in the light.

"David was right, y'know," she said.

"Interesting how you still call him David, even though you're aware that he's your father. Now, I'm not judging, sweetheart. You and I are very alike in that respect. We both have atrocious fathers-"

"He's not a bad dad," she snapped. In fact, she couldn't really see him as a dad at all. She was trying, but she was struggling. Still, he was her family. He always had been, since she stepped foot in Storybrooke. Him and Mary Margaret.

Hook smirked. "Hit a nerve, have I?"

"Like I was saying, David was right," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "You may think you need revenge, but you don't."

"Then, indulge me. What - exactly - is it that I need?"

"Redemption."

His laugh filled the room. It was not a snort or a snarling laugh, but a proper laugh. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was in no position to be laughing at her.

"Redemption," he coughed. And then, when she gained composure, "Well Swan, I think you may be the most deluded out of all of them."

"Go on, laugh. Laugh all you want," she said, rather smugly. "But one day, when you've completed all your little revenge plots or whatever, you're gonna be left with a huge, gaping hole in your black heart. And no amount of murders is going to be able to fill that hole. And I feel sorry for you."

Silence. It filled the room, replacing Hook's laughter. His face darkened. Just when she thought she'd gotten to him, he spoke again.

"What will you do about the hole in your heart?"

"There isn't a hole in my heart."

"Well…"

"Why am I even talking to you?" she snapped. "David was right. You're just pathetic. You're repulsive." She stood up out of her seat and made her way over to him. His eyes widened, just a touch, in shock. "Maybe there is hope for you, maybe there isn't. But here's the thing - whether you redeem yourself or whether you don't, none of us will ever be able to trust you. I especially won't be able to trust you. You can rot in this cell for all I care."

She turned on her heel and stormed out the room, without sparing a look back in his direction. She made her way down the corridor. A few lights flickered overhead, and in a moment of madness, she had the strange feeling that she was doing it.

Finally, she escaped into the day. She gulped in air until it cleansed her and soothed her aching headache.

There was nothing good about Hook. Nothing. He'd be a selfish, stupid pirate for ever, unable to see past his revenge. He'd never move on. He'd never find love.

Emma wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her so much.

She stretched her arms high above her head, trying to undo the knots in her shoulders and neck. The stretch felt good. It relieved some of the tension she'd harboured for the past few weeks, and in the station, trapped with Hook.

She couldn't let him get to her again. She couldn't. She needed to be professional.

As she stretched, she caught a glimpse of someone on the other side of the road. A flash of red and brown. Her brain was a little slower than her eyes. A tiny object flew towards her and landed at her feet. Emma hadn't registered the bean before she was plunged down and everything disappeared in a whirl of grey.

The name, "Cora," had hardly left her lips.

Emma was thrown onto the ground. She skated across the concrete. A sharp stinging on her arms, elbows and hands told her that she'd scraped them in the process. Her head throbbed and her eyes blurred every time she tried to open them.

"Emma!" she heard a familiar voice. "Emma, are you alright?" Thud thud thud on the pavement as footsteps approached her. She looked up.

"David?" she croaked.

He crouched down beside her. "She's over here!" he called into the distance. A second thud of footsteps made their way over to her.

"Is she alright?" asked Mary Margaret, also kneeling down beside her. Emma caught a whiff of a perfume and felt a scarf brush gently across her cheek.

"I think so. She must have fell. She hit her head."

On his words, Emma touched her forehead. She moved her hand away when she saw something sticky and was shocked to see blood on her fingertips.

"What happened?" she groaned. "Where's Cora?"

"Cora?" said Mary Margaret, alarmed. "What do you mean, where's Cora?"

Cora was there. She'd seen her. She'd seen her dress- red or purple, or whatever. She'd smiled, slow and chilling, showing a set of pearly white teeth, right before she-

"The bean! She threw a bean at me. There was noise. A portal-"

Emma finally managed to open her eyes. She looked around, more confused than ever. She was in exactly the same spot as before. But she'd fell through the portal, hadn't she? She saw the world disappear around her. And now she was-

"Where's Cora?" she asked suddenly. "Where's the bean?"

"I think she has concussion," said Mary Margaret. She placed her hands on the side of Emma's face. "She's burning up, David. We need to get her home. Is he in?"

"I think he said he'd be back later. He's got something special planned."

Emma didn't register their words. She was too busy thinking about Cora and the bean. Cora had thrown the bean at her, she had disappeared and-

Maybe the bean was unsuccessful. Maybe she only thought she disappeared, but the bean had thrown her back because it wasn't very strong. She wanted to ask Mary Margaret if that was possible, but they were already trying to help her to her feet. They gripped her upper arms and pulled. Emma managed to do it, though her legs were shaking violently.

But she'd barely had time to take a breath and take in her surroundings when a wave of nausea hit her and everything went blurry again. She didn't even feel herself hit the floor.

"Emma!"

"Emma!"

…

Emma groaned. She turned her head into the fluffy pillow and pulled the covers tighter around herself. Though she hadn't opened her eyes, she could tell it was light outside, probably morning. Bird chirped away in the trees. For once Mary Margaret wasn't singing to them. If the sun didn't wake her up, that usually did, as soothing as Mary Margaret's voice was.

She tried to swallow, but there was a burning in the back of her throat.

Water. She needed water.

She opened her eyes and then promptly closed them again. Yes, it was definitely morning. Light covered every inch of the room, blinding her.

Wasn't it morning when she fell asleep?

No, she didn't fall asleep.

Suddenly, memories started coming back to her. She passed out in the middle of the street, with David and Mary Margaret. She'd passed out because there was- there was-

A portal.

And she'd-

She'd hit her head.

Tentatively, she moved a hand to touch her forehead. Instead of meeting a bloody gash, her fingertips brushed along a soft, cotton bandage. Mary Margaret must have patched her up, she realised, with a wave of gratitude.

She must have put her in bed, too. Though the bed didn't feel like her usual bed in the loft. It was much comfier. Her head sunk into the pillows, and she was cocooned in warmth, thanks to the thick, feather quilt. Mary Margaret didn't even own a feather quilt.

Emma opened her eyes.

And immediately sat up. Her head spun at the movement, but only for a second. When she could see properly again, her insides clenched. This was not Mary Margaret's room. It was a stranger to her.

It was mostly white - with cream walls and cream cabinets. The bed was dark, the colour of red wine. The sheets were silk. It was certainly nothing she would choose to sleep in. She'd never liked silk. A huge, open window was on one wall, light pouring through it.

Emma's heart started to beat faster. What was she doing there? In a room she didn't know, or hadn't ever seen before? She knew it couldn't be a room at Granny's. Granny's rooms weren't as stylish as this one.

Maybe Granny was full so they had to take her somewhere else.

But why wouldn't they put her in her own bed?

She pushed back the covers and set her feet on the carpet. It was then she realised she was wearing pyjamas. Someone must have changed her, which she wouldn't have minded, if they were her pyjamas. But they weren't. She'd never seen those pyjamas in her entire life.

What the hell was going on?

There was a polite knock on the door and then it opened. Terrified, Emma's eyes flew to the opening door. Who was it going to be? Cora? Gold? Was this their idea of a sick joke? The intruder stepped into the room, carrying a breakfast tray on one hand like a butler. Or what Emma assumed to be a breakfast tray. She hadn't properly looked. Her wide eyes were fixed on the person in front of her.

Hook.

"Emma," he said, with a soft smile she'd never seen before. "You're awake. I was getting worried."

He took a step forward. She stood up, eyes searching the room for a weapon. Why the hell was Hook in this strange house with her? What did he want? And more importantly, why was he carrying breakfast?

His smile faltered.

"Love? Are you alright?"

There was nothing for it. She grabbed a metal picture frame from the bedside table.

"Stay away from me," she warned. "Or I'll shove this into your head."

"Emma?" he said, alarmed. He took a step forward. "What the hell-"

"Stay away from me," she yelled. "Don't come near me."

He lowered the tray on the dresser and held his hand and hook up, backing away. His face was still alarmed but when he spoke, his voice was calm. "They'd said you'd hit your head. Perhaps you might be a little disorientated."

"Now, why am I here?"

"What do you mean why are you here? Your parents brought you here."

"Why would they bring me here?" she shot at him.

"Why wouldn't they bring you here, is the question."

"Just answer me."

Hook watched her for a moment, frowning. It was a different frown from what she'd seen him do in the cell. This one was thoughtful and laced with worry. He looked different, too. His hair was clean and styled. He'd held back on the eyeliner. He wasn't as thin as he was, either. Not to mention the lack of his long leather coat. Now he wore a simple black shirt. He looked older, she thought.

But how was that possible?

"Because you live here," he finally said, calmly.

"I've never seen this place before in my life. Why would I live here?"

"With me," he added.

Her disgust showed all over her face. "Why would I live here with you?"

He swallowed and Emma thought she saw a hint of pain in his face. But he continued to answer calmly, eyes on her at all times. "Because we're married."

That's when she ran for the door.

Hey there, I hoped you liked this! I am so excited for this one, you have no idea. I have many plans and I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!