Me: *watching this scene on repeat*
Mom: Are you looking at pictures of captain hook again?
Me: Actually, it's a video
Mom: How many times are you going to watch it?
Me: Until my feels are satisfied
Mom: Your what?
Me: My feels!
Mom: ...You need help...
Me: I NEED MARCH NINTH!

...sigh...sometimes mommy doesn't understand me...

So then I wrote this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Though it makes me feel like crying, I do not own OUAT or any of the characters...including Captain Hook :'(

Terrified

The apartment door slammed shut, cutting off the man's words, though they continued to echo in her mind as she walked, slightly dazed and breathless, back to the familiar and comforting kitchen.

"Who was that?" Henry asked.

Emma took a deep breathe to steady herself. "No idea. Someone must have left the door open downstairs." She turned to the door again, the face out of sight but lingering in her mind; the face full of boyish charm and utter bliss, of silent dejection and hopeless desperation; the face that was only responding to her words and actions; the face she was curious -

But she tore eyes away. "Come on, let's eat."

Henry watched her sit down and take a few bites before she just started pushing her eggs around her plate, eyes darting occasionally to the door.

"Mom?" he asked tentatively.

She looked at her son, eyebrows raised, innocently inquisitive, but eyes just wide enough for him to know something was off. "Yeah?"

"You look scared."

She thought that over for a moment.

The ridiculous leather pirate getup was scary.

All she could see was leather. She stared. But the longer his getup held her eyes, the more she came to the strange and inexplicable conclusion that it actually looked natural on him, looked...good on him.

Him knowing her name was scary.

"Swan," she heard him breathe, and her attention was brought to his face. She blinked a few times and threw her guard back up as she shook herself from her momentary lapse in scrutinization. How the hell did he know her name? But the more she studied his face, the harder she had to focus on keeping her guard from falling back down. The corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly and his eyes lit up, his face filling with such adoration and hope that it stunned her. "At last," he whispered, his voice once again bringing her back to reality.

The way he stepped towards her was scary.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"An old friend," he replied, though some of that faith vacated his features, making her eyebrows knit together. "Look," he continued, "I know you can't remember me, but..." An idea came to him, and a glimmer of hope returned as he eagerly whispered, "I can make you."

Pulling her lips to his was scary.

In one quick, fluid motion, he stepped forward, placed his hand behind her head, and steered her face to his. Her stomach jumped even with their lips barely touching, but Emma automatically responded with a quick, fluid motion of her own as she brought her knee up. She could tell it made contact from the way the air rushed out of him in a gasp. A light push was all that was necessary to send him backwards, into the hallway and leaning against the opposite wall, hunched over.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her voice high-pitched and out of breath, betraying her surprise. Why did this guy keep knocking her off her guard?

His desperation was scary.

Despair took over his face, twisting his lips, raising his voice, and dashing the twinkle out of his eyes. He reached out to her, pleading, "Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me, you have to remem-"

The door slammed, shutting out the scary.

But from there, scary became something else, something strong and passionate and hopeful and inexplicable.

The way he breathed her name, as if he had been waiting all his life to say it.

The light in his oceanic eyes and the smile of perfect contentedness that spread across his face when he saw her, as if he had found everything he had ever been looking for.

The way he moved closer to her, as if there could not be a small enough distance between them.

The ease and familiarity with which his hand cradled the back of her head and his lips moved against hers, as if he had done so before.

The agony and torment that she caused, as if he was living a nightmare through her rejection.

The growing urge in the pit of her stomach that was nudging her to open the door again and let him in, to hear him out. The growing urge that was her instinct, the one she always trusted. The one that still had yet to lead her astray. The one that was debating as to whether or not she truly had no recollection of this man and his lips and his hope and his...leather...

Because it was the one that told her he wasn't lying.

Which meant that her memory was.

No, those parts weren't scary.

She smiled lightly, joking, "Scared? Me? Please."

She wasn't scared. She was terrified.

I absolutely adore the relationship that has developed between these two. Props to all the other wonderful Captain Swan fics I've read that are keeping me sane during this horrible hiatus. Hopefully this helps someone brave it out. Thoughts are more than welcome! - AFL