AN: Set some time in 3b, when Henry is still clueless.
Every action of theirs, that seems to them an act of their own free will, is in an historical sense not free at all, but in bondage to the whole course of previous history, and predestined from all eternity. - LEO TOLSTOY, War and Peace
When Hook finds her, she's balanced on one leg, leaning head-first into the Bug, tossing empty soda cups and chip bags over her shoulder and onto the curb. Her suitcase is wedged in the trunk, still sticking mostly out of the open back window.
He raps lightly on the roof to get her attention, and cringes when she tries looks up in response but instead whacks her head on the ceiling.
As she backs out of the car slowly, he begins to apologize but stops suddenly when he catches sight of the teartracks shimmering on her cheeks in the moonlight. She quickly swipes a hand under nose and sniffles, clearly trying to erase any evidence of her emotions.
Hook glances back toward the trunk, "Going somewhere?"
Emma refuses to meet his eyes but unwillingly follows his glance back at the suitcase. "We're going home. Back to New York. First thing in the morning."
He squints at her in confusion, "I know I was a bit off the grid today, lass, but did I miss the big epic showdown with the Witch somehow? Did my invitation to the celebration party get lost in the post somewhere?"
She begins to pace a little in place, "It's been weeks and we're not getting any closer to defeating her. I, we, have to get back to our life in New York. I have a job and rent, and Henry has school and ..." she's rambling, her voice picking up speed with each excuse and becoming less convincing.
"Seriously?" Hook feels like he walked into a story at the climax and has no idea what the plot is. "You're just throwing in the towel like that? What about you parents? What about the baby?"
"I have my own child to worry about!" She looks at bit stunned at her own outburst and hides her face in her hands, rubbing furiously at her eyes to try and force the tears back.
Hook thinks his heart skips a beat in the moment, he feels icy fear flood his veins as he steps closer and grabs her by the shoulders, trying to force her to make eye contact, "What happened to Henry? Is he alright?"
"No, he's not fine, I can't remember him!" She's rapidly becoming hysterical again and Hook isn't sure he's ever seen her this unhinged. He's fairly confident that Henry is at least physically unharmed, but his mother isn't making sense and is starting to breath like someone is strangling her. He strengthens his grip on her shoulders and walks her backwards towards the bench that sits in front of Granny's. She jerks up in surprise as the backs of her legs hit the wooden slats, forcing her to sit in reflex. "No, I have to pack!"
"Swan! You need to focus. Drink this." He forces the ever-present flask into her hands, helps her lift it to drink. He's not really sure what else to do with a hysterical woman, much less a hysterical Emma. "What do you mean you can't remember Henry?"
She takes a long slug while also trying to regain her breath and ends up sputtering a bit at the conflicting actions. She forces the flask back towards him and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to calm herself. Her breathing calms partially to hiccups but Hook watches her eyes grow watery as she recalls the catalyst for this breakdown.
She finally takes a deep breath and tries to explain, "Henry wanted to know if we'd be home in time for Blake's birthday party. He was so excited, there were going to be girls at this party. They're twelve, that's apparently a thing now." She sniffs again finally getting to the point, "I had no idea who Blake was."
Hook was still confused. "I'm sure Henry has loads of friends with stupid names in New York. That's nothing."
"Blake lives one floor down in our apartment building," she explains, "Henry and he have walked to school together every morning since we moved to New York. I can't even remember what he looks like."
That reveal makes Hook slightly nervous, "Have you bumped your head? Maybe while training with Regina? Maybe we should go see Whale?"
Emma just slumps back against the bench and stares up into the stars hoping for an escape somehow. "I'm forgetting our life. Mine and Henry's. Its like now that I remember the truth, there's no room in my brain for two sets of memories, and this past year, and all the memories that Regina created, they're just fading away. Maybe if we just get back home, somewhere familiar, I can get them back. We have to go back to New York."
"And then what? You forget all about this?" He sweeps his arm across their line of vision of Storybrook. "Your parents? Your friends?"
"If I have to."
Hook doesn't know what to say to this. He knew she had continued to insist that she would be taking Henry back to New York when this latest saga was all over, but he'd been certain that when the time came she would change her mind. Now she was not only sticking to her word, but greatly advancing the timeline.
"How am I supposed to raise Henry, live with him, talk to him when we're living two different lives?" she continued, "In Henry's world, we've never been apart. He has friends and a future, maybe even college and a life. But in this world, in my world, I never even laid eyes on him until he was ten years old. I've never thrown him a birthday party, I don't know what his first word was, where he took his first step." Emma is steadily crying at this point. Not the heaving sobs that Hook assumes occurred before he found her, but a more resigned, silent tears that show no signs of ceasing.
"Maybe Henry will remember. You keep saying your magic is improving, maybe you can restore his memories even if Regina can't." He knows it is a long shot, but he's desperate to change her mind.
"The thing is... even if I could, I'm not sure I want to." She makes the admission quietly and waits for the explosion she knows is coming.
"Bloody hell, why not?"
She does not expect him to understand but tries to explain regardless. "Because now I know, and he knows, I made the wrong choice! I didn't have to give him up, we could have been together all those years. I could have kept him, raised him, and he could have had a normal childhood in the real world, with kids and friends his own age. He wouldn't have been so lonely. And I wouldn't have been either. No one would have tried to kidnap him, or steal his heart. These last twelve years, they could have been real! But I was a coward and gave him up and if he remembers the truth, he'll know exactly what he missed out on. What I took from him."
"Henry never blamed you for any of that."
"But that was before. Before he had twelve years of fake memories of what could have been."
"Eleven," he gently corrects. "This past year was very much real for both of you. So, when he remembers, when, he'll also remember this past year and all the memories you created then."
"But they were based on lies," she sniffs in protest.
"But he's still the same Henry underneath no matter what. The same Henry who dragged you to Storybrook three years ago. Who was proud to find out that his grandparents were Prince Charming and Snow White. Who loved hanging around the stables and learning to sword fight. He'll also remember how happy he was to have a family, this haphazard fairytale of a family as it is."
"He's also happy to eat ice cream for dinner every night, but that doesn't mean that it's what is best for him."
"Not quite a worthy comparison, lass." He speaks slowly, like he's afraid to spook her back into action, back into packing the car to skip town. He senses she's finally running out of steam, but he's not sure he likes the resigned depression that has taken up residence any better. "Look, I don't know anything about raising a child. But I do know a lot about regrets. You made your decision about Henry based on the information you had at the time. Regina created your alternate-history memories based on the information she had at the time. A very different time. You can't assume that things would have turned out the same way if you had raised Henry those eleven years. But you are raising him now. The next eleven years, maybe more? Those are all yours, and they are real."
"What if I want them to be real in New York?"
He hurts him to promise but he knows he can't stand in the way of Henry's happiness and safety. "I won't try to stop you. I can't promise the same of the Charmings. But I won't try to stop you."
"My parents." She's struck with the memory of the last time she tried to run from Storybrook. The look on Mary Margaret's face, the betrayal. It is one very real memory that she has no doubt would repeat exactly the same if she tried it again. She has a fleeting thought of just packing them all up and taking everyone back to New York with her. New York needs teachers and veterinarians, right? Then she remembers the flying monkey attack right there at her apartment and has to admit the futility of trying to keep her family safe anywhere. "I just... I don't want to forget. I know it wasn't real. But these are the only memories I have that are pure. For the first time in my life, I was unconditionally happy. I really thought we might get a happy ending."
Hook has finally had enough. He may understand all her lost girl issues, but he's starting to resent how easily she just gives up. "This isn't the end yet! This is hardly chapter three. Whose to say how it will all turn out?"
"Optimism? From you?" She scoffs.
"I know, it is a sad day for everyone when I'm cast in this role. You can tell anyone who asks that I may have started on the rum a bit earlier without you if it makes you feel any better."
The lie is finally enough to draw a small, but still watery, smile from her. "I still don't know what to say to Henry. If my memories keep fading, how are we even going to be able to have a basic conversation anymore?"
"So tell me."
"Excuse me?" She finally has pulled herself up straight and turns to face him on the bench.
"You and Henry are the only ones who share those memories. And since you've been here, you've done nothing but focus on the past and create more Storybrook memories. Perhaps your curse memories are just fading due to.. lack of use. If you actively try to remember, relive them by telling someone, it could keep them fresh, at least until you can make a decision about Henry's own memory."
"You really want to hear all that? Hear about the time Henry may or may not have broken his arm learning to ride a bike? The time Henry may or may not have had the chicken pox and how he turned our sofa turned pink from calamine lotion?"
"See, you haven't forgotten everything quite yet then." He grinned triumphantly.
She rolls her eyes in exasperation but he notes the hint of a smile behind the action.
"Come on, it's too cold outside to keep sitting here, unless you'd like to do something more, energetic, to keep warm," he leers. When she raises an eyebrow is response he knows that he has broken her out of this funk at least temporarily. "I located where Granny hides the key to the liquor cabinet. You can tell me any tale you'd like as long as the rum holds out. Though I do beg of you to skip over the more colorful nappy and toilet training parts if you don't mind. Your mother keeps leaving those damned baby books all over the place and I've read more than I've ever needed to know about that."
He pushed himself up and stretches a bit before grabbing her suitcase back out the car and slams the trunk window shut. He holds it up as a question, hoping that the road trip is off, at least for the night. She stares at it for a few moments before standing and moving to the car to grab the keys still dangling from the car door.
She turns to face him and takes a deep calm breath for the first time, "Deal. There are some memories I may be okay with forgetting."