"I know that look."
It was late, and Emma had been certain she was the only one still awake, unable to sleep with thoughts of Henry bouncing around in her head. But evidently she'd been wrong, for Hook was lounging against a large rock that wasn't far from the fire, the dying flames illuminating his face in a shadowy glow.
"What look?" she questioned, frowning and sitting up, looking over at him.
"Loneliness," Hook stated plainly as he whittled away at a piece of wood, meeting her gaze briefly with his blue eyes, "You feel lost here, and not because you have no clue where you're going."
Emma bristled at his words, not wanting to let it show just how much she still felt like that lost little girl. "I'm not lonely, and I'm not lost. I'm just… worried about Henry."
"Tell yourself that all you want, love, but we both know the truth."
His certainty regarding the situation annoyed her to no end. He didn't know her; they'd only been acquainted for a few months, most of which they'd been enemies.
"Don't act like you get me, because you don't," she snapped, and he chuckled under his breath, giving her a knowing look.
"I 'get you' more than you want to believe, Swan. That constant feeling that, even when surrounded by people, you truly have no one; that fear of trusting people, of letting them in, in case you lost them. You're scared to let yourself be happy, because happiness never lasts."
Looking down at the dirt on the ground by the fire pit, Emma frowned. As much as she hated to admit it, that was exactly how she felt most of the time. But how the hell did he know that?
"Never in a thousand years did I think Captain Hook would be lecturing me about my issues," she scoffed quietly, and he didn't laugh this time; he had an aura of seriousness about him.
"Don't change the subject, Emma; it's true, isn't it? You're lost. That's why you want to find your boy so badly; he makes you feel like you matter. He makes you feel whole."
Shrugging, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being correct, Emma sighed. "Yeah, I guess." Wanting to switch the topic of the conversation away from her before he pulled up some more deep details she didn't want to discuss about herself, Emma shifted. "You're lost, too, aren't you? You've been running around for decades, hell-bent on revenge because that anger and loss was all you had."
"I wasn't lost," Hook stated, remaining unmoving in his spot, his eyes barely blinking or breaking contact with hers, "The anger was like my compass. It kept me on track; guided me to where I needed to be. Now that it's gone… Well, let's just say you and I really aren't all that different, Swan."
Emma didn't know what to say to that, so she kept quiet, choosing to lay back down again with her back to him, pretending to be trying to get some sleep. Hook still didn't move. After a few moments, he spoke up again, figuring that if she hadn't been able to sleep before, she still wouldn't be able to now.
"If things don't work out in your favor, and we do manage to escape from Pan with our lives… perhaps we could be lost together."
Scoffing, Emma rolled her eyes, "Fat chance."
He laughed at that, expecting her to respond in such a way. "It sounds crazy now, love, but it may seem more promising when you have nowhere else to go."
"I plan to get Henry back and get the hell off this godforsaken island," she stated bluntly, and Hook shrugged, watching the back of her blonde head.
"Like I said; if things don't work out in your favor, there's always room for one more aboard my ship. Just say the word."
"I'd have to be impossibly drunk and desperate to say the word," she informed him, and he smirked at the thought, shaking his head.
"Emma Swan, drunk off her rocker; now that doesn't sound very princess like at all, does it?"
Frowning at his use of the term, Emma sat up again. "Don't call me that. I don't care what I was in the past, I'm not… a princess."
"You're as much of a princess as I am a pirate with a hook for a hand, Swan. Some things can't be denied; they're just who we are. If you plan to return to your kingdom with your boy, you'd best adapt to the term."
"I'm not a princess!" she stated again, more firmly, falling silent when Mary-Margaret stirred briefly at her shout before falling back into a deep slumber. "I'm just… a girl. A girl who wants to find her son, and get the hell out of this place."
"I consent to agree with that statement," Hook said, resuming his whittling, "Neverland isn't a place to linger in any longer than necessary." He kept it to himself that he feared Henry may have already been with Pan too long to leave as the same boy he entered as.
"Yeah, I get that," Emma stated, rolling her eyes and pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "What are you doing?"
He blinked at her sudden question, looking up and then glancing at the carving in his good hand when he realized what she meant. "What; this? It's just a pastime I picked up when I was a boy."
Slicing off another piece of the wood, he flashed a small grin before tossing the carving over to her. She caught it easily, looking at the carving in the light and unable to repress a small smile of her own. It was an elaborate swan, and she felt her face burn, shifting away from the light of the fire to hide it. "It's good," she stated, ending her statement with a snarky comment so he wouldn't get too cocky, "for a one-handed pirate with a hook."
He snorted out a brief laugh at that, lounging back against the tree again. "I'd like to see you do better. I'd say it's pretty bloody fantastic for a one-handed pirate with a hook."
Shaking her head, she sat the swan down, laying on her side again and closing her eyes, but this time she didn't roll over so her back was to him. She heard him stand, but didn't open her eyes, tensing a bit when she felt something drape over her, realizing when she was hit with that distinct aroma of rum that it was his leather coat.
"The offer still stands, Swan," he breathed in her ear, and she fought back a shiver, peeking open an eye when she heard him walk away. Sail away with Hook on his stupid ship if she couldn't get Henry back? It was ridiculous. She couldn't just abandon her parents like that.
Then again, it wouldn't be all that different from what they'd done to her. Closing her eyes, she found herself considering it; rum whenever she wanted it, living life, which would be miserable without Henry, in a constant numb buzz, sailing wherever the tides took them. Somehow, it didn't sound so awful, for a backup fate. It wasn't the best plan, but when considering a possible miserable future, it really did seem like an everything-better plan.
She fell asleep with the wooden swan near her head, the scent of rum lulling her, and found she was almost mentally accepting his offer. It wasn't something she would be proud to do, but at least it would be something.
Without Henry, life would be empty. Was the life of a pirate really all that different?