AN- This takes place after season two. It was started in the summer, but edited after 3x05 'Good Form', so some references will be canon and some will not. My take on Henry's rescue as well as Hook's background and budding relationship with Emma.

On the Sword

by SpaceCowboy

Chapter I

The swirling vortex churned just off the port bow of the Jolly Roger. Emma Swan held tight to her rope, her salvation from falling overboard into the turbulent waters. Her mother, Snow White, was holding on tight to Charming, wrapped in his right arm while he held tight to his own life rope. Regina was to her left, both hands gripping her lifeline with Gold doing the same with his own.

The salty water crashed over the mid-deck and the ship dropped several feet over a swell. Captain Hook stood steadfast at the helm, turning the wheel left and right, steering the Roger into the gaping maw of the abyss. Emma shook the hair from her face, fear keeping her from actually letting go of the rope. She watched Hook, concentrated on his form, tried to draw from him a sense of calm- a sense of confidence. Hook had done this before. He knew what he was doing. Emma kept reminding herself of that as she felt the deck beneath her pitch and yaw at unnatural angles.

Hook was barely holding on to anything- other than the helm.

He just kept steering the Jolly Roger.

Then everything went black.

-OUAT-

Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger- the fastest ship in all the realms, stood at the stern of his ship, legs planted firmly on the deck, arms at his sides, leather coat flapping gently in the breeze. He lifted his head up and looked at the blue sky above him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Instead of smiling, basking in the memories of the place he called home for centuries, he frowned. Neverland, he thought. What horrors shall ye bestow upon me now that I have returned?

He opened his eyes and righted his head. Strewn about his deck were his five passengers, unconscious and sopping wet. "Amateurs."

He stepped down to the mid-deck and started down the stairs to his private quarters. His hook, he placed in a dark wooden box on the window ledge beside his bed. His leather coat found purchase on a ladder beside the main door. The rest of his clothes found themselves in a heap on the floor. Moments later, he was in dry clothes and buttoning up his red vest and adjusting his high-collared black shirt with obsessive precision in the mirror above his bed. When satisfied, he turned to the row of windows at the stern of the ship and stared out at the sea. It was calm, peaceful and blue. He opened the window before him and let the salt air waft into his quarters. It smelled heavy. Felt thick. His gaze moved to the horizon where he saw dark shadows on the far sea. They were coming from the heavy clouds behind them. He broke away from the window and headed back out the door, grabbing his coat and hook on the way out.

Back on deck, he noticed his passenger's stirring- an arm twitch here, a head roll there. He decided to let them come around on their own time and set forth to open the sails. There would be plenty of wind to sail by before the storm hit, and Hook wanted to make sure they could reach the island before it did.

At the helm, he looked over his shoulder and up at the sporadic ominous clouds casting the shadows. It was giving chase. A heavy, unrelenting blanket of them would soon follow- no longer letting any hints of blue sky through, only torrential downpour and rough seas. Hook knew he had to get his passengers ashore. They would never survive the type of storm Neverland was about to throw at them. At least, not at sea.

However, he knew he could… and he would.

Just like the Jolly Roger would.

A sudden tightness in his chest made him close his eyes, squeeze them tight. He gave the helm a gentle stroke and pat before opening them again. "Once more into the great abyss my good friend…" His voice trailed off as his throat went dry.

He quickly righted himself, cleared his throat and stood tall at the helm, throwing away any remaining thoughts of the horrors that were about to be bestowed upon him.

No need for such thoughts now. Concentrate on getting Emma and the rest to shore, save the rest for later.

Much later… and preferably with a good bottle of rum.

Snow was the first to wake, followed shortly by Charming- whom she had shaken until he had had no choice but to wake. "You've changed," she noted, passing Hook at the helm as she took a seat on a crate. "And you're dry."

Hook gave her a wink. "Feel free to hang your clothes out, there's not a soul around for miles to see you walking the deck naked."

"Really, Hook?" stated Charming, coming up the staircase to join them. "I'm right here. Besides, were here to rescue Henry. Could you try and be professional?"

Hook cocked his head. "I was being a gentleman," he replied. "I wouldn't want her to catch a chill in this sea air. Besides, professionalism is so boring. But you are right; we are here to save Henry." He turned the wheel three notches port then pointed towards the horizon. "Land is dead ahead. We're being chased by a storm so I would like to get you all ashore before it hits. There's an inlet between the plains and Skull Rock that should provide plenty of shelter and supplies for our trip around."

"I'll take your word for it," replied Charming.

Snow smiled at her husband and placed a hand on his knee as he sat down next to her on the crate. She leaned into his body when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "How is everyone?"

"They're coming around," replied Charming. "I saw movement from Gold and Regina, but Emma is still sleeping."

Snow patted his knee. "Let her rest. She'll need it for what we have coming."

"I suggest the same to you," offered Hook. "There's nothing more that can be done till…" he paused, and Snow noticed his body go rigid. She looked over to the stairs and saw Gold climbing towards them. "Stop right there, crocodile!" spat Hook, pointing a finger at the man. "You may very well be a passenger on my ship, but I offer you no privilege of inhabiting the helm! Stay where you are."

Gold stopped mid-step and Snow gave him a regretful shrug. "It is his ship," she said, sheepishly. "We have to respect that." She hated saying it, she hated seeing the look on Gold's face, but having those two men in close proximity to each other was probably not a good thing anyway.

Having watched Gold retreat to the mid-deck, Hook turned back to her. "Like I was saying… You might as well get some real rest before landfall." He pointed across the ship. "Take my quarters. Below deck and to your right. The big room in the stern," he smiled. "You and the other women will be much more comfortable there than in the crew bunks. There are linens in the drawers under the bed, help yourselves if you prefer to dry off first."

Snow conceded that it would be nice to sleep, especially not on a hard deck, sopping wet, so she nodded, gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and started down the stairs. Mid-way she stopped and turned back to the Captain. "Where do you plan on sleeping?" she asked, sceptically.

"My bed, of course," he said with a wink.

Snow noticed her husband stand to defend her honour, and then stilled by a waving hand from Hook. "Stand down, Prince. I mean when they are not there."

Snow shook her head and let out a long breath. Charming sat back down while Hook continued to smile. She took her leave and decided to gather her daughter and Regina before retreating to the Captain's quarters.

-OUAT-

Emma did not want to sleep. Once awake, she wanted to remain awake. And focused. She leaned against a mast at the bow of the ship, staring out at the land mass before them. It did not seem to be getting any closer, despite the constant wind pushing the sails. Henry was out there, somewhere. And she knew she would find him. She had to. Any other ending was too horrible to fathom. Emma would draw from her father's perseverance, her mother's hope and her own strong will and in the end…

Henry would be rescued.

She heard slow footfalls coming from her right. Evenly paced and carefully placed, like someone unsure about approaching, but steadfast in the fact that they were. A flash of black in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she was not all together upset to see Hook come into view. He passed her a tin cup, steam pouring over the sides.

"Coffee?" He offered the cup with his head down but eyes raised.

Compassion? Was that what Emma heard in his voice? She smiled and accepted. She held it in one hand, balancing the bottom in the other. She took a sniff. Strong. Bold. And mixed with the cold sea air around her, Emma could not imagine a better smell.

She watched Hook step up to the pulpit, his body silhouetted by the sea on both sides. His shoulders were broad and strong. His head was high and the silver hook on his left wrist was glinting in the sunlight as he rested it on the ledge. He was impressive. Emma could not deny the pirate that. He had an aura about him that drew you in, made you want to watch him perform even the most mundane tasks- like how he flicked a wrist in a simple gesture or adjusted his coat with a shrug. His movements could be intriguing, his swagger and bravado mesmerizing. Then sometimes he simply made you want to slap him.

A gentleman to the core one moment, then suddenly his words, his actions, his lecherous remarks would have you wanting to crawl out of your own skin just so it can take a shower before returning to nest on your body again. An anomaly at best, but unfortunately, handsome none-the-less.

She found it hard to tear her eyes away from him, until he turned to face her and her instincts made her glance away. "How long till we reach land?" she asked, clearing her throat.

Hook closed the distance between them in three easy strides. Confident. Masculine. Smooth. He put his good hand on her arm and gave a slight squeeze. "We will find him," he said, the compassion she noted earlier still present in his voice. "I promise you that. But time, and the weather, are not on our side right now."

Emma followed his gaze behind the ship and noticed dark clouds trespassing over the sea. "A storm?"

Hook nodded, dropped his hand from her arm and Emma felt the spot where he had touched her go cold. She hadn't noticed how warm his touch was until he had let go. She found herself feeling slightly dejected, yearning for the warmth on her arm again.

"Aye. If I am not mistaken, and I rarely am about such things, it should be upon us two days hence. But we should reach land by then." He glanced up at the sails billowing above them. "Before a storm, the winds are always gracious. But do not fear. I shall find you port in the storm."

"Then what?" asked Emma, looking at him over the rim of her raised cup. "You know this land, right? You know where we're going? How and where to look for Henry?" She felt her heart racing as she asked the questions, each one building her frustration and anxiety. "You're the only one of us who knows this land, Hook. You can't let us down. You can't let me down."

She had not expected to make the plea so personal. She had no idea where it had come from. Hook had come back to save Storybrooke, not her specifically. He was here to save Henry for everyone- her son had a special link to every one of the people on this ship, except for Hook of course, so why had she suddenly thought so selfishly that he would do something especially for her?

She swallowed hard and studied his face as he stepped back. It was earnest, true and without a hint of confusion or scepticism. "I do know this land," he said. "That is why you will make port tomorrow night and then we will set our sails for around the bay. That is where we will find the Lost Boys, and it is them who will lead us to Henry."

Emma furrowed her brow. "The Lost Boys?"

Hook spread his arms, flashed a boyish grin. "Come now, you knew of me when we met. You must be somewhat familiar with Neverland?'

Images of young boys running around singing and dancing and wearing green tights raced through her mind. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly how I pictured it," she said, trying not to imagine the man before her wearing a long, black wig and colonial red jacket. She smiled despite her best efforts. The Captain Hook she knew was a craggy old man with a big nose and somewhat of a buffoon. Certainly not the man before her now.

Hook smiled with sincerity. "You'll have to tell me about it someday," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards the stairs. Emma felt the heat of his touch return. Then a deep shudder ran through her, from her toes to her forehead, almost making her feel lightheaded.

Tired, she told herself. Must be tired. She tried not to trip as she went down the stairs, guided by the warmth gently nudging her forward.

"But for right now I suggest you get some rest along with the others. I can handle the Jolly Roger for a few hours on my own." He winked at her and Emma stumbled over a loose rope… or at least, that's what she told herself happened.

"I'll need my quarters later, so I suggest you take to the bed now or…" he let his sentence trail off as he swept his tongue across his lower lip.

Emma's footing suddenly became more secure underfoot. She imagined her right hand coming up and smacking the pirate upside the head as her skin slid off her body heading for the nearest shower.

But instead, she shook her head, thanked him for the coffee and quickly retreated below deck.

When she entered his cabin, she was still reeling. She shook herself, mentally shaking off the slime dripping from her body. The man could change from hot to cold at the drop of a hat. She took a refreshing breath and took in the room. Her eyes immediately drawn to the strange sight before her.

The Evil Queen and Snow White sharing a bed.

It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

Albeit on the very edges of opposite sides of a small, yet very inviting looking bed, there they were, asleep. Emma took another sniff of her coffee and shrugged. "No rum," she said. "Can't be drunk."

It was real. Emma decided to leave it at that- not over analyze the situation. Why disturb the peace. So instead, she pried her eyes away from the bed in the far left corner and took in the rest of the cabin. A row of windows lined the back wall, a deep ledge running it's length, displaying books and nautical items. A small table on the right side of the room held an oil lamp and small chest. And in the middle of the room was a small mahogany dining table, adorned with fruit, bread and a scattering of what looked like star charts and logbooks.

The walls, whitewashed and reminiscent of Mary Margaret's apartment, were decorated with weapons and naval regalia. Behind her, to her left, was a built in wardrobe, the same colour as the walls, with one door slightly ajar, revealing Hook's shirts hanging neatly. Behind and to her right- on the other side of a ladder, was another wardrobe and built in bookshelves. The room looked lived in. Comfortable. Full of history. And a strange thought occurred to her...

Hook sailed ships.

He actually sailed real ships to real places. He wasn't just a man from a childhood story. He was a real man with a very real past. And a history of life and adventure and experiences. He truly existed.

Emma had always known that of course. However, for some reason, seeing all this, seeing his home, his personal space, made it more genuine. It made him more authentic and compelling. She had not noticed until now that she had really only looked at him as his character. A concealment of a real man. But now, she suddenly felt different about him. She could not pinpoint the how or why of it, but something had just altered. Something had ignited, making her skin tingle and the lightheadedness return.

All of a sudden, Emma wanted to touch everything in the cabin. She wanted to smell the wood, run her fingers over the books on the shelves, and study every map. She wanted to know more about this man. More about the man who wrapped her wound on top of the beanstalk, not the man who compared her to a dried up old bean. More about the man who saved Aurora's heart, but not the man who took it in the first place. More about the man who loved so deeply not even death could alter his feelings, not the man who spent centuries lost in vengeance and hatred. Not about the man who stole the bean to save himself, but the one that came back.

It was as if he was two different men. Two sides of the same coin. Yin and Yang. Kind, and yet deadly. An enigma wrapped in a mystery.

Or… a single man trying to cope the best way he can.

The thought made Emma jump. It hit too close to home. She quickly retracted the hand skimming over the walls and tucked it into her pocket.

"Emma?"

She heard her mother's voice and turned to see her sitting up in the bed, propped up on one arm and rubbing her eyes with the other. Snow glanced at the raven-haired woman asleep beside her then turned to her daughter, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Emma grinned back. "Yeah, weird, let's not talk about it."

More to Come...