How to Interrogate a Pirate (and fail) 101, an once upon a time fanfic

AN:

I watched the entire series last August in about a week, just before season 6 aired. So I got the entire CS storyline in a flash, which was both wonderful for me because no waiting three years for them to get together, but also meant I was too busy watching them in canon back to back to stop and write fanfics in between. So this happened not long after and has sat on my hard drive for...well, a while. The hospital scene was great, really, but I remember that part of the show and can't help thinking that I wish Killian had found out exactly why Emma left town so easily - that it was because Rumple threatened him. He was too revenge driven for it to have changed anything back then, but the idea intrigued me and I find this stage of his character to be a fascinating one. So this happened. My first real attempt at writing in the ONCE universe and with a lot of emotions bubbling away. Hopefully I didn't screw them up, but feedback is always hugely appreciated. Enjoy!

...

See if Hook will tell you any of Cora's plans while I'm gone.

Emma sends the text after just a second's deliberation, as the plane sets to take off. She already thinks she knows where this conversation might lead, but David getting suspicious about Hook is really far less important than working out what Regina's mother is up to.

As expected, his response comes in quickly:

Didn't you already try?

Emma can plainly see the words he didn't say – He's more likely to tell you than me. Whether she's still wrapping her head around it or not, he's really is her father, and that's possibly a kettle of fish he doesn't want to open just yet.

Emma sucks in a breath.

She could reply and say that she had tried, but Hook had been more interested in flirting with her and pushing her buttons than giving any straight answers. But then David would be more likely to visit him in hospital to punch him, rather than ask questions. She could reply and say he hadn't exactly stayed on topic when she asked, but David was cursed, not stupid, and he'd quickly work out that meant he'd just tried flirting with her. The punch scenario is most likely with either of those responses.

So she flicks her thumbs over the letters on her screen and sends something else.

I did. But maybe he's more willing to talk now.

Now his ribs are slowly mending and he's not on such a high ration of morphine. Nothing to do with Emma not being the one to ask.

The plane is in the air when her phone beeps with David's reply:

I'll stop by.

…

David steps into the private room at the Storybrooke Memorial where the nurses placed Hook just a couple of days ago. He's not quiet or respectful about it, and the bed-ridden pirate doesn't have time to re-clasp the handcuff trailing from his good wrist to the bed rail before David's seen him.

Somehow he isn't surprised.

A flash of wariness goes through Hook's expression, but an instant later it smoothes out into something laid back, expectant, even cocky.

"Well, look who it is," he greets, sweeping his good arm grandly. The open metal cuff clatters, swinging from his wrist – apparently he's not going to lock himself back up just for appearances sake now that David's seen him loose anyway. Oddly, David finds himself respecting that a little, and the notion instantly annoys him. "Come to visit me in my recuperation?"

David pulls a face. He doesn't move closer to the bed.

Hook's arm drops, but his eyebrow raises instead, a salacious expression that really gives David far too many thoughts on exactly how his conversation with Emma went.

"Gotta say, Mate, I'm disappointed. Nothing against you, obviously, Deputy," he adds on his title in such a pointed way that despite the complete lack of insult, David feels his hackles rise. "But I can't help feeling I've come down in the world. After all, it was the Sheriff herself, your lovely daughter, who was here when I woke up."

David already knew that. The chaos of the car crash had most of their core group at the hospital that night, and with Gold having proven how much of a loose canon he was, David also knows Emma had instructed Hook to be hidden. She also then kept an eye on the room to be sure Gold didn't try to finish him off. Nothing Hook's said is anything new or untruthful.

But the way he says it feels like there's something…else.

"She was here to question you," David bites back, frustration and something that can only be fatherly anger beginning to curdle in his blood. "You got to town which shouldn't have been possible; you brought Cora with you, which puts everyone in danger; you've been working with her, which is even worse; you tried to kill Belle and made her lose her memories, which is-"

"I told your daughter and I'll tell you the same," Hook interrupts suddenly, his expression dark. "The only way to hurt Rumplestiltskin without his dagger is to attack his heart. Belle happens to be that heart, and he hasn't had one for centuries so I wasn't about to let the opportunity pass me by. And hey-" he tacks on, suddenly looking more like an outraged child than a cut-throat pirate. "What you left out of that little list of events is the fact that I was hit by a car – yet no one's been to ask me if I want to press charges."

David scoffs.

"He's from outside of Storybrooke; the real world," he says. "You don't want to press charges, Hook – if you're smart, you'll want him gone. Fast."

Hook sinks against his bank of pillows. His tongue runs over his busted lip, expression considering, and then he shrugs. They both know David's right, but the pirate isn't going to say that.

Instead, he turns his hand over against the raised bed rail. The movement is casual and absent looking, but David has to bite down on his tongue because it's clear he's doing it solely to draw attention back to the loose handcuff clanging on the metal.

David should have locked it back on the moment he saw it.

Now if he does, Hook will know he's got under his skin.

Plus, everyone well knows that the Pirate's had worse injuries in his life than a few broken ribs, and he could probably still throw a solid right hook – pun not intended – from the hospital bed. David won't risk it. He knows – somehow, much as he'd rather he didn't know – that Hook wouldn't hit Emma, but he'd be fair game.

"I'm here to ask you about Cora's plans," David says, loud and firm, drowning out the metallic ring of the open cuff.

Hook's eyes jump to him, amusement kindling in them, the eyebrow lifting again. "Are you now?"

David bites down on his tongue and has to consciously stop himself from curling his hands to fists.

"What do you know about them? Where is she?"

"You know, I much preferred it when Emma was asking these questions," Hook says, his tone all too pleasant. "It doesn't have quite the same…touch…coming from you, Your Majesty."

At the words – the way his tongue curls around 'touch' and the way his voice lowered to say her name – That's his daughter and God, does he wish he knew what really happened between them back in the EnchantedForest – David feels something inside him snap.

And he really should have seen it coming; it feels like whatever it was has been pulling tighter with each word since he entered the room.

"Well Emma's gone, so you've got me," he grits out.

There's a tight, tense beat.

Hook stiffens against the pillows, his discomfort just a flash across his face before the expression he levels on David is one hundred percent pirate.

"What do you mean 'gone'? Where is she?" he demands, his voice sharp but not loud. In fact, it's lower than usual, edged with something razor-like, promising pain.

It catches David off.

He's heard stories of Captain Hook – from his own world, of course. Stories of the ruthlessness, of the fear he invokes in others, the devotion he earns from his crew, but he never met him for himself. Not back home; not before he arrived in Storybrooke and already had a history with his grown up daughter.

But right now, David's just getting how one man can inspire so much terror and loyalty. And he's injured, in hospital, wearing starched scrubs. That tone would prompt lesser men to spill their secrets on the spot. It's only the mess of annoyance, frustration and anger boiling under his skin that stops David from answering on instinct alone.

"Where is Cora?" He tries again, firmly moving back to the point.

Hook soundly ignores him. "Where's your daughter, Mate?"

A sharp, biting flare of something shoots down David's spine. This broken pirate asking after Emma so intently sets off all kinds of fatherly instincts and yet he's pretty sure he must be reading this wrong. Emma never seemed to have much patience for Hook; hid him to prevent Gold following through but generally seemed to keep herself at a distance. And yet, there's a certain carefulness in the way she continues to deal with him – apology perhaps.

He can't read Hook so well. He doesn't have feelings for her – David's pretty sure on that. In fact, there seems to be some resentment on his part; something that David might call hurt, if Hook were anyone else. But still, the pirate does seem to simply like her while he's happy to throw the rest of the world under a bus for his revenge. Which is even more interesting, considering there seems to already be a betrayal of some kind between them – and based on what he's witnessed, he'd guess that betrayal was not the pirate's.

"I'm not your mate," David says in reply, after a moment of hesitation, trying to piece together Hook's motivations.

Hook ignores that, too. "May want to find her soon," he suggests darkly, like he's resigning himself to not being told. "She stopped The Crocodile from killing me; he may harbour some…resentment for that."

Fear stabs through David's chest. Its icy cold, deeply lodged, suddenly difficult to breathe around.

If Hook's telling the truth…

"He wouldn't," David says, fiercely trying to believe, to convince himself of it. Gold told him that no harm would come to them; him and his deals. "Emma didn't do anything to him."

Hook's face is dark; mouth set in a grim, mocking line, his eyes gleaming with knowing and bitterness. A sort of ghostly pain, centuries old, emanates from him in waves, his hand gripping the metal rail tightly.

"I think you're vastly underestimating just how much he wants me dead, and how broadly reaching his many murderous impulses are," he says, voice low and harsh. "I've known the Crocodile for centuries. I know better than you exactly what he's capable of."

That, David believes.

And before he knows it, the words are spilling out, "Emma and Henry left Storybrooke."

Surprise flashes on Hook's face, but his hand lets up on the bed rail. David watches him for a moment, clearly putting thoughts together. Finally, exhaling in a way that might be disappointed or mirthless, he guesses, "Because Cora poses a threat."

That was why Henry went with her, but it was nothing to do with Emma's departure. Still, David would sooner let him assume that than the truth right now. "You brought her here, Hook."

Hook curls his tongue, gives David an evaluating look and then shrugs stiffly, careful of his ribs. His voice is casual again when he speaks, if still slightly pointed, designed to press buttons. "Well…My apologies that getting my vengeance caused a bit of a split to your precious family, Mate, but maybe she and the Lad are better off away from here. Safer, and all that."

And it's the lack of empathy – his daughter and his grandson are on a deadly adventure with a murderous pawnbroker to find his long lost son – that David blames on his next words.

"They're hardly safer when Gold's with them."

The change in Hook is instantaneous. He shoots up, away from the pillows, a groan of pain tearing from his throat as his ribs flex, but it's not enough to stop him. His left arm, bereft of its usual leather brace and hook, presses into his side instinctively, but he's holding himself up, eyes burning and outrage rippling off of him.

"You let her leave with the Crocodile?!" He almost growls it, face twisted into a snarl and breath catching in his damaged chest.

"I didn't let her do anything!" David bursts back. In contrast, his voice has grown louder, all his emotions spilling over, and he takes half a step to the end of the bed, body shifting to an angle like he's preparing for a fight. "She owed him a favour – a deal she made back before she broke the curse and he cashed it in. She refused at first because Cora was a danger, and she wanted to be here for it. She agreed to go with him because he threatened you."

-Crap.

He hadn't meant to say that.

Hook freezes, his eyes wide and his jaw softening as his teeth unclench.

David is breathing too hard. He can feel his heart thundering in his ears. It's too late, but even so he hurries to continue, "He threatened all of us."

He should have said that first. Instead. He should have said that instead.

Too late now.

"What?" Hook demands. Despite the surprise lingering in his eyes – David's slip really did throw him – that edge of darkness is back in his voice, the tone of a pirate used to being obeyed.

David sighs, backs away from the bed again. He can only really try to make this better now – make it seem like less. He remembers the conversation too clearly – Gold had very specifically brought up Hook, before he ever threatened them. In fact…

He'd threatened himself and Mary Margaret – even Henry – to ensure Belle's safety while he was absent. But actually getting Emma to leave with him that same day…he'd only threatened Hook.

Goddamn it.

The only thing now is…what does he tell the pirate?

If he is honest, then maybe, just maybe, feeling like someone gives a damn about him might be enough to sway him to reconsider; to help them. Even if Emma would – he hopes – have done the same for anyone else. But he does not want the truth to sound even a little like his blessing.

"Gold said that Emma was going to go with him that same day because the longer she made him wait, the closer he was to killing you," David admits, praying this is the right move. "He said he'd kill all of us and Henry was standing right there."

Not a lie.

Hook visibly swallows. His expression is hard again, but his eyes are not focused on David. The Prince immediately gets the impression his fixed expression of fury is aimed at Rumplestiltskin.

Somehow a centuries old feud has ended up in his town; in the middle of his family, and that's something David can't deal with right now.

"Whatever happened before," David says, stumbling over his words – this cannot, must not sound like he approves – "Emma's trying to help this town, and she's trying to keep Gold from killing you, whether you deserve that or not, because that's who she is. What's Cora ever done for you?"

Hook huffs, a small sound, and finally drops gingerly back into his pillows.

David blows out a breath.

This was a hopeless cause. He should have known that and never come.

He turns for the door. He can tell Emma he tried but there's nothing new. He knows Emma's still trying to deal with being someone's daughter, and having a family, so she usually keeps her emotions back when they talk, but even so, he felt like there was a lot she didn't say in their texts. He doesn't think she'll be surprised to know he had no more luck than she did.

But then…

Hook speaks as he reaches for the door handle.

"I don't know where she is," he says. When David looks back, he's gazing up at the ceiling, body held stiff on the bed and breathing sharply from moving his ribs again. He flexes his fingers in and out of a fist, the open handcuff dangling down. For the first time, it's not an obnoxious motion, but a restless one. "Cora. She didn't tell me much. She wanted to get here for her daughter; wanted her to lose everything so Regina would need her again. Personally, I'd wager using magic for years has knocked a few things loose up there, but she got me here so I didn't ask too many questions.

"All I wanted was to get to this town to kill my enemy. What she does is on her conscience, not mine."

It would be useful if he had actually told Emma this – at least she'd know if he was lying or not. As it stands, David thinks he's being honest, but he also knows Hook has centuries of practice in spinning lies and truth.

"You gave her a way here," David says instead, bitter. "Even if her actions are her own, I'd say some of that is on your conscience."

"Well," Hook says, pointed, as though he knew David was just about to walk out and he had to get in the last word. "Had your daughter not left me chained up at the top of a beanstalk, I'd have helped her get home and gladly left Cora behind. So really…some of it should be on her conscience."

David clenches his hand into a fist, wants to shout back at him, but abruptly shuts his mouth, his fingers loosening.

He can't. He doesn't really know what happened. But it sounds like – if Hook isn't lying – that he guessed right. There was a betrayal between them.

Emma's.

And from the look of the smirk forming on the pirate's face as he keeps his eyes on the ceiling, Hook's all too aware of how little David truly knows.

He shakes his good arm, the cuff dancing, baiting once more. "She does rather enjoy chaining me up."

David rather wants to punch him.

Hook knows it. His smirk widens.

"Thanks for the information," David bites, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. "You clearly know nothing." He says it to rattle at his pride, but Hook just lifts an eyebrow, supremely unconcerned and that just rattles David. He pulls open the door with a parting shot, "Just remember that Emma left to help keep you alive. Don't be stupid when you get out."

He can see the way Hook's jaw clenches, the heavy swallow that bobs his throat.

"You're not going to lock me back up?" is all he says, glibly.

David scowls at the damn handcuff; hates that they're Emma's; hates that he's getting the impression the pirate enjoys the push and pull that's started up between them; hates that he doesn't even really know what it is; hates that his daughter is with Gold to protect him.

"No," he snaps. "You're a pirate; you'll be loose before I leave the building."

Hook shoots him a glance, something level, evaluating and ultimately just the smallest bit respectful. Pride lingers in the hint of the smirk that reappears at his mouth. "Aye, that I will."

David leaves. He's had more than enough.

…

David has been texting Emma for the past few minutes, sharing updates and thoughts on Cora's next move, when she sends him a message that has him pausing.

Did you question Hook?

Apprehension dances in his blood. He's not sure there's enough time in the world for him to properly deal with his thoughts regarding that particular conversation. The fact is, he learned rather a lot, but practically none of what he learned was anything to do with Cora or her plans.

No. Instead, he's learned that Hook wanted to work with Emma – help her get home, if she agreed to bring him along. That Emma left him behind so he resorted to teaming up with Cora. That even if Captain Hook doesn't have real feelings for his daughter – too lost in the past – he likes her. He cares enough that saying she was gone, that she was with Gold, made him fear for her. He's learned that the decision Emma made to protect him actually surprised the pirate; it wasn't something he expected of her.

He's learned that somewhere in between his visit to the hospital, and dragging Hook to the docks to help them with their information search, Emma's handcuffs have disappeared. And he doesn't need to be a genius to work out who has them.

David heaves a breath, aware it's been a long moment since she sent the message. And he types:

Tried. He didn't know much.

There's a beat, and then Emma replies and he can almost feel her surprise.

He talked to you?

For a fleeting instant, David wonders if there's more to it – if she wanted to be the one who got him to talk.

But that thought is gone, quickly replaced by a more pressing concern; exactly what does he tell her?

Hook only relented right at the end, sharing what little he claimed to know because David had used Emma's name and her actions like a weapon. He'd used it to sway him, to convince him. And he'd only ended up doing that because the pirate had demanded to know where she was and been worried about her safety.

He can't tell her any of that.

Emma may keep Hook at a distance, but David's already witnessed the way she interacts with him; there's a push and a pull on both sides, something instinctive, and she's already done things because she feels guilty – maybe – for betraying him once. She's a good person, and he doesn't want her to shoulder the burden of saving him. He doesn't want to encourage anything more than that, either.

A moment too long has passed again. Rushing, but stilted, David taps out his answer.

Not really. Talked around me, mostly.

A beat, and then her reply:

Sounds like Hook.

David gets the oddest feeling that he's sitting on the edge of something that's already happened and he just didn't see it.

We're following a lead, he types out. Focus on Gold and Henry. We'll see you soon.

Emma doesn't respond, and David pockets his phone with a heavy breath. They have a sorceress on the loose, and altogether bigger concerns than the tentative, already tested connection between his daughter and a vengeful pirate, whatever it is.

Maybe he'll ask Mary Margaret – at least she was there for most of it.

But in the meantime, they have to focus. They'll deal with that if it ever comes to it.