A/N: This story is set within the current timeline of the show. Two differences will stand out to you, but they should be self-explanatory as the story progresses.

The cruel brightness of the florescent lamps woke Killian Jones from the thick sleep of what he assumed to be a hangover. He had seen those lights before. Only the Storybrooke hospital had such demonic contraptions with their low hum of indistinguishable sounds and a brightness that rivaled the sun when one tried to sleep. Killian Jones was used to hangovers, having suffered the pain and nausea of them for centuries, but this pain felt worse than any he had known before. His head not only ached, but throbbed with growing intensity and the bile of his stomach threatened to escape through his mouth if he so much as moved.

Through the tiny slits he allowed his eyes to open he could see her, Emma Swan, perched on the side of his bed with her golden hair flowing down over her shoulders. She was watching him sleep, her expression drawn and worried as she stared at him, occasionally reaching out to smooth an errant hair or run her thumb over the stubble on his cheek. This was certainly a development, he thought as he closed his eyes against the light's intrusion. The prince and princess's daughter was sitting on his bed, seeming to be waiting for him to wake up.

"Hey there," he said with a hoarse voice, forcing his eyes blue eyes open to greet her. "You're here."

She nodded her head, eyelashes fluttering as though she was feeling the prickle of tears beginning to burn. "I didn't know if you'd wake up or not," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "We weren't sure what…"

He swallowed hard, feeling the sting of acid in his throat. "I'm fine, love," he told her. "Just shocked to see you here."

Her eyes darted up to meet his quizzical gaze. "Where else would I be?" she asked suddenly. "We're…I'm…" She broke the conversation off. "I was worried. So many people were hurt or cursed today. It's amazing that you even survived. According to Henry, you took a direct hit."

"Henry?" Killian asked, groggily stretching in the thin bed of the hospital. "Aye, your boy."

She frowned down at him, her hand tracing over the side of his face before she spoke. "There was an explosion at the crypt where Regina stores her equipment and ingredients," Emma said. "You were hit with some of the debris. I thought for a while that you…There have been quite a few people injured. One of the fairies is under a sleeping curse. Two of the dwarfs got splashed with vials of potions that have switched their personalities. Marco got hit with some other potion that has him being remarkably honest to people. I think he's been in here twice telling you how much he admires you. And Ruby.." She laughed, a tight and controlled sound. "Well let's just say she got hit with something that has her considering joining the convent."

"Aye," he said slowly, trying to place each name with a face. "And you believed me to be a part of the casualties?" Though he was surprised at how forward she was with him, he did not want her to take her hand away, its warmth welcome on his skin.

"Henry couldn't be sure what hit you, but you jumped in front of him," Emma explained. "By the time I got there you were unconscious. Regina's sorting through what curses and potions were lost, but she said it could take a month. So all I could do is wait for you to wake up." She yanked her hand back as his head tilted into her palm.

"So I might be cursed in some form?" he asked. Holding up his arms, he tried to do an inventory. "Two legs and feet, two arms, one hand, all here. Would you care to do inventory on the rest of me?" He arched an eyebrow at her, expecting her to slap him or chastise him for being forward and full of innuendo. "Love?"

"Physically you appear fine," she said. "We don't know what kind of spell or curse hit you, but thankfully you didn't turn into a toad or something." She coughed lightly. "What can you tell me? What's the last thing you remember?"

He paused, reaching up to scratch his chin. "I was at the town line with the Dark One and that lady he loves, Belle," Killian answered, his eyes no longer playful but thoughtful as he considered the memory. "I shot her to make her fall over the line and make that bloody Crocodile suffer." He chuckled. "The cry of anguish coming from him was the last thing I heard until that horseless carriage struck me and sent me tumbling through the air."

Emma's eyes grew wide as she stared down at him. "Killian," she said softly. "That was two years ago, now." She stared into his eyes for any sign that he might be joking. "That is the last memory you have?"

His face contorted in concentration. "You say I was at Regina's crypt, but I don't remember that. I remember some sort of contraption arriving and carrying me on a bed here to this medical ward." He looked around the room with a single glance. "You were there yelling for the medics to hide me. You had already stopped the Dark One from finishing me off. Why was that, love? Couldn't bear to part from me?"

She mumbled what sounded like a silent prayer, a hand shaking over her mouth. "Killian…"

"I like how you say that," he told her. "You always say Hook with such contempt that it is nice to hear the softness in your voice when you call me Killian."

"I think I should see to a doctor," she said, sliding herself off the side of the bed. "Maybe Dr. Whale can tell us what seems to be the problem." Before he could question her, she was opening the door and calling out loudly to the staff. She shot him just one more nervous look before she ran from the room and the only sign of her was her frantic and loud words.

Dr. Whale examined him for about 20 minutes before he finally spoke to Emma, who had been relegated to a corner during the tests and competency exams. The doctor only shook his head when Emma queried about the pirate's condition. The most he would say was that Killian was physically fine. There were no abrasions or cuts, no internal injuries or trauma. So when Regina entered the room, Emma was more frustrated than saddened by his condition. She held up a tiny vial in one hand and an even tinier slip of paper in the other. "Now that he's awake," the woman said, dipping the white paper into the clear liquid of the vial, "I can better determine what hit him. Captain, when I hold his paper before you, I want you to blow your breath as hard as you can against it."

She dipped and swooped her hand with the paper around him, first his arms and chest and then down one leg and up another. Next she skipped to his head, letting the paper tickle over the skin of his forehead and then holding it close to his lips. He blew all the air he could and felt the strip blow against him in the effort. She nodded once and held it up between her forefinger and thumb. "Oh my," she said, holding it out for Emma to study. "It's yellow."

"And what the bloody hell does that mean?" Killian demanded, looking from one woman to the other. "Why have you brought this sorceress in here anyway?"

Regina ignored the man's questions and demands. "Memory curse," she said, as though she was discussing the weather. "Looks like he didn't get the full brunt of it since he still has most of his memories intact, but he's definitely suffering some memory loss."

Emma emerged from the shadowy corner with a frown and knotted brow. "Two years worth," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "That's quite a bit, given that…"

"Love," he said, his voice still thick from the days of sleep and very little use. "That's quite a ring." He was staring at her left hand and the bridal set that she wore there. His eyes tapered suspiciously over the diamond. "Congratulations are in order…"

"Oh God," Emma moaned, her pale skin pinking from a sudden flush. "He…"

"A lot has happened in two years," Regina reminded her. "A lot."

"Your boy's father, no doubt," Killian said, still studying the hand on his chest. She ripped it back as though the act had burned her. "I offer a hearty congratulations to you both."

She seemed to be searching for something as she stared down at her hand, strength perhaps. Regina was more amused though, alternating her stare between the two of them as though watching a tennis match.

"No," Emma said finally. "I'm…We're…"

Regina rolled her eyes and dropped the slip of paper into the wastebasket. "This is very entertaining, but I've got six more visits on this floor and an antidote to negotiate out of Rumpelstiltskin. Your identity issues aren't something I can deal with right now."

Emma's head turned swiftly, garnering Regina's cold gaze. "You are just going to leave him like this. Leave him believing it is two years ago."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, love?" Killian asked as Emma stood in the way of Regina's exit with her arms crossed over her red sweater.

"How do I fix this?" she asked, holding her face just inches from the Evil Queen's.

"You can't," Regina said matter of factly. "Only true love's kiss can reverse this. But he has to have his memories restored for that to work. Catch 22 I guess."

Emma's face was now showing the signs of a furious woman. "You guess!"

"Well try kissing him," Regina suggested. "It certainly wouldn't hurt. And the Captain Hook of two years ago would not have turned down a kiss from you."

"I'm married," Emma protested. "I can't go around kissing…"

"Your husband?" Regina answered. "Sure you can. It is a benefit of marriage." Regina shrugged, giving a nod toward Killian and another toward Emma. "Good luck. If I come across anything…"

"Seriously!" Emma screeched. "This is the response I'm getting."

"Love, what does she mean…" Killian began before Emma was yelling at Regina again. It was his turn to mimic the audience at a tennis match. She ranted and raved before kicking the Evil Queen out of the room. Turning back to him, her breath hitched and her face grew even redder.

"I owe you an explanation," she said, almost shyly from across the room. Leaning against the closed door, she braced her hands against the cold wood. "You see, we're married. I'm your wife."