Locked away in the captain's quarters far from the touching family moment spurred on by Emma's dramatic rescue, Hook shed his waterlogged greatcoat only pausing to pull a flash from the worn leather. Rum burned his throat, but in a comfortable way only an old vice could bring him. The burn was expected unlike the turbulent emotions coursing through his veins causing his hand to tremble. The waves that had violently rocked the Jolly had subsided leaving the ship resting a bit lopsided on calmer waters. The storm had brought destruction to his beloved ship and had almost cost the life of a brave woman that was quickly proving to be more than just an enchanting distraction.
Had he seen her fall, he was sure his heart would have plummeted along with her to the cold depths of Neverland's sea. Had he seen her fall, he would have leaped over the bulwark consequences be damned and he would have done it all on instinct. Rarely do rash decisions ever come to fruition in a pleasant way especially when sailing treacherous waters. As captain, it was his duty to protect the ship and in doing so protect the crew under his command, but the stutter in the beat of his heart had nothing to do with duty to his crew.
Hook took a few more pulls in quick succession from his flask before he sunk into an unforgiving wooden chair. A lone flickering candle in a hanging lantern dimly illuminated his form hunched over the table. Knowing they'd soon need to make landfall, Hook capped the flask despite barely having a buzz from the alcohol. Keeping his wits about him on the island would be a testament to his resolve to renewing his belief in good form. During his last stint in Neverland, rum had flowed freely and his soul had been blackened by the decisions of an inebriated mind. It was upon the waters of Neverland that Killian Jones truly became Captain Hook. It was also the very place he had returned to become Killian Jones once again.
It hadn't just been Baelfire's missing son that prompted his offer of services. Blonde hair that put his gold to shame and vibrant green eyes the color of the waters off the Emerald Coast pulled him back to Storybrooke's docks after his theft of the last magic bean. The way the savior had looked at him after he had finished securing the Jolly in the mooring was as if his return was a miraculous trick. Understandably, he had just stolen the last bean to leave them to their deaths so the weary look in her eyes wasn't far fetched, but the hope and shock solely aimed at Hook left him confused. From what he had overheard between Swan and her parents before the storm, he was beginning to realize just how much of a lost girl she was.
In the Enchanted Forest, the first tell was the longing looks Emma unconsciously casted to her surroundings greedily taking in what he now knew to be her land of origin. At first he imagined that she perhaps missed her homeland, but it became obvious from her lack of common knowledge that she hadn't grown up in her mother's kingdom. The foreign sights and smells was Emma's first taste of what her life could have been before the Evil Queen casted the Dark Curse. It was easy to see that Emma felt lost and abandoned with those looks as the full weight of her lost first chance dawned upon the broken woman.
The second tell was surprising to Hook as it involved the woman whom had stolen hers and many others future. As the town of Storybrooke spiraled towards destruction, Hook watched as Swan the Savior became tender and mild as her son's upcoming loss of Regina became apparent. The look between the queen and princess spelled out the deep love they held for the boy that could only be generated from the suffering and loss each had endured. Her love for Henry was all encompassing and sacred.
From his own experiences, he knew the third tell was on it way and it shown itself shortly after their arrival to Neverland: anger directed at her parents, at herself, at the queen, and even at the ship she traveled on to rescue her son. Emma Swan was a ball of fire ready to light even the dampest of kindling. She had never been so beautiful as when she sneered bravely at the approaching storm which had turned to pure damnation in the moments after the mermaid was turn to wood.
Hook rested his head upon his forearm as the memory played out of them side by side fighting against the elements as if they were born to face this world together. It was then the pirate knew that the battle he didn't know he was waging against himself was long since over and it was all for naught. Hook knew his position in life just as well as he knew hers: well beneath and not in a pleasurable way. Whether or not the savior accepted it, she was the epitome of gracious goodness that the hero types seemed to favor. Should Emma ever be so inclined to share herself with someone, it wouldn't be with a blood stained villain such as himself.
A knock at his door brought Hook's melancholy thoughts to a halt. Hook raised himself to sit up and stiffened his spine straight as he barked out a command. "Enter."
The door slowly swung open and black boots appeared one by one down the ladder followed by the occupier of his thoughts. "Swan, what can I do for you?"
She hesitated briefly at the bottom of the ladder before taking up residence across from him. "I needed to get away."
Hook slid his rum towards the princess. "I understand."
"Thanks," she mumbled before taking a large pull from the flask. "I needed this."
Hook smirked. "I know. Family troubles."
"You heard?" Emma asked surprised. She cocked her head a bit as she waited for his answer.
"It was hard not to overhear that private conversation. It seems your parents are pushing the issue," Hook carefully said as he watched her intently trying to determine the best course to break down the walls had she erected without being detected.
Letting loose a sigh, Emma took another pull from the flask in an effort to brace herself. "Apparently saving everyone on this boat is a bad thing."
"Ship," he corrected, "and it wasn't about saving everyone. It was the method."
"The method was the only one that worked and I won't be made to feel guilty for employing that method," Emma scoffed and handed the flask to Hook. She leaned back as far as she could into the chair and stretched her legs out from her only to knock into Hook's muscular ones. Emma almost retreated her own, but refused to give him the satisfaction that he'd gain from knowing how much he affected her.
"No cause to repine, is it then?" Irrational anger filled Hook as he pushed away all thoughts of the calf radiating warmth against his own. "You could have died. You wouldn't believe the amount of men I've lost to natural storms much less magical ones."
"Why do you care?"
"How can I not?" he asked with a profound emotion lacing his voice. "I would never forgive myself for being such an irresponsible captain as to lose the Crown Princess of Misthaven overboard and by her own volition."
She tossed her head in disbelief. "You are lying."
Hook stared hard into her face. "And?"
"Why would you lie?" Emma asked in a quiet and tired voice.
With a huff, Hook glanced at the rings on his hand for a moment before he answered. "Because it's better than the truth."
Unmoved by his obvious internal turmoil, Emma pressed forward on the vein desperate to find a tangible truth. "The lies are what kills me every time. I can't trust you if you lie about the smallest of things."
"Who said it was a small thing?" Hook barked back as he lifted his eyes to make contact with hers. She was pressing too close to something he'd rather not face just yet. "Perhaps it is something that needs to be hidden at least for the moment."
"The truth always makes its way free, Killian, and when it does, it often hurts those you were trying to protect," Emma reasoned with a gentle tone and soft look.
His face fell at her gentleness knowing it was a gift when it came from the tenacious woman. Hook was quickly realizing lowering her defences would lower his own and was unsure of his feelings on that matter, but the blonde before him would not leave without at least a sliver of the truth from him. "There is nothing more that I wish for than to protect you from all ills."
"Excuse me?"
"Milady, I did not stutter."
Pissed at his offhanded manner, Emma sneered at him. "I fucking heard you, Hook. I just don't understand why."
"Once again," Hook infused his voice with much needed patience, "you ask me why and I reply with how could I not. How could I not wish to protect you? It's too late to save myself, but not too late to save you."
"I don't need saving."
"Do you not? You almost killed yourself trying to save others. You may have the strength and will to fulfill your prophesied savior duties, but who is going to save you when you are brought low by the weight of those responsibilities?" His voice was taut as he calculated the risks she took and disregard for her own safety.
"It is entirely too late in the evening to be mind fucked by this conversation," Emma said while rising from the chair and made her way to the hatch. "Goodnight."
"And where will you go?" Hook raised his eyebrow knowing that he only needed a few more pushes in the right direction to end the vein of conversation they were on while still maintaining her company. "Only a few cabins have been readied for occupation. Are you willing to go back to your parents at the moment?"
Emma froze near the bottom of the ladder and let loose a sigh. "No, I don't want to see them for a few hours. At least until we are rested and ready to go to shore."
"You are more than welcome to stay here with me," Hook offered.
Emma just stared hard silently daring him to continue.
"Please, Emma, I'm a gentleman. I would never seduce you in this fashion." Giving her a smirk, he continued, "When I do, it will not be under such duress as these circumstances."
"Fine, but I'll need a change of clothes. I'm still damp."
Hook finally stood and moved towards the bed to pull out a drawer tucked under the mattress. He pulled black cloth out for her approval. "Will this do?"
"One of your chest hair special shirts?" Emma teased him. "That'll be fine as long as the buttons actually work. I have my doubts they do."
"Of course they work, I just choose to grace your vision with my masculine display." His smile deepen into a genuine grin of affection.
"Oh please," Emma muttered as she snatched the garment from Hook. "Turn around."
"As you wish, milady," he said as he bowed deeply before turning his back to her. The rustle of fabric and light footsteps away from Hook's position alerted him to her clothed state of dress. A mumbled okay from Emma gave him leave to turn around giving him a brief view of her clambering into his bed. As she settled, he toed his boots off and shrugged out of his vest depositing it over the back of the chair he had previously occupied.
Emma watched him with interest as he removed a few knives from his pockets and released his hook from its casing before he nudged her over to make room on the bed. He slid in under the covers till he felt the warmth of Emma's body through his leathers. She kept watch of his movements cataloging every gesture and twitch he made as he settled in next to her. Giving her a lazy smile, Hook took a chance and leaned forward to brush his lips against her temple as he whispered goodnight before he resumed a relaxed and open position availing himself to her comfort should she have need of it. Emma kept still as her eyes dropped and breathing evened out as sleep took her far from her troubles.
As Hook's eyes closed while he listened to soft snores resonating to his right, his thoughts went back to before Emma had shown up to his cabin. It was a good thing he hadn't seen her fall. He surely would have died trying to rescue the wench and would have been denied seeing her clad in the most threadbare of all his shirts giving him a shadowy glimpse of what laid beneath the soft black linen. Yes, it was a very good thing he had survived so he could fall in love with her even more as he watched her scramble under the quilted covers of the bed only to insistently squirm as she nestled into the feather bedding. A very good thing indeed.