Hello, you have reached Mary Margaret. Please leave your name and number, and I'll be delighted to return your call as soon...
Shit. Emma hung up the phone. Where were they? She glanced furtively around the restaurant. She hadn't signed up for this. She looked over across the room and saw Hook, staring at the checkered pattern on the table cloth, alternating between glaring pointedly at the man sitting across the table from him, and looking wildly around the room for Emma. Help me, Swan, his eyes implored.
Emma darted behind a pillar.
She knew that allowing Mary Margaret and Belle to have a girls' night without her had been a bad idea. While she and David had to deal with some sheriff business (local woman Bobbi Pete's sheep had escaped – again), Belle had promised to keep Mary Margaret company while baby Neal was sleeping, so the two of them had been left with some rum, strawberry daiquiri mix, and a jar of maraschino cherries. After a few hours of tracking sheep footprints though various neighbours' backyards, the sheep had marched right back into their scatterbrained owner's pen, much to David and Emma's annoyance. A few hours alone with fruity drinks and paper umbrellas, however, had been long enough for Mary Margaret and Belle to bond and set plans in motion.
"Wouldn't it be great," Mary Margaret had said as soon as her husband and daughter walked in the door, "if the six of us got together for dinner, bury the hatchet so to speak? Gold, Belle, you, me, Emma... even Hook, I suppose. We're all family now, I think we need to act like it, don't you?" Whenever Belle and Mary Margaret got together, you could almost see little bluebirds and turtle doves hovering over their heads as they planned some other infuriatingly optimistic scheme that would fix all the world's ills. Emma sighed. She envied them, really, that ability to see the best in people, despite all the pain that they'd been through. She just wasn't so sure chatting over pork tenderloin and cheesecake about the Red Sox's winning streak and the unseasonably warm weather would accomplish anything.
In response to Mary Margaret's plea, David had smiled affectionately at his wife, Belle had looked hopeful... but not hopeful enough for Emma to respond with anything but "No way in hell." Hook and Gold, chatting over dinner, reaching for buns from the same bread basket? That was never going to work.
To her surprise, it was Hook who convinced her to agree to the scheme. Mary Margaret had only grudgingly accepted her daughter's relationship with the pirate, and, although he would never admit it, Emma knew Hook was desperate to get himself in her good graces. "The Dark One and I have reached a sort of... detente," he assured her, "we'll never be mates, but I'd be honoured to accompany you to such an event, if it makes you happy." You mean if it makes my mother like you, Emma thought with a smile. Cavorting with Disney princesses and dating Captain Hook had never been something she'd have predicted, but here she was, and she was enjoying the ride.
"Does this have anything to do with Atlantic City?" she'd asked him. He always got a little evasive whenever she brought up Gold's recent bachelor party.
"Ah, well... let's just say we aren't as adversarial as we once were," he'd responded.
Emma grabbed the corners of his jacket and traced her fingers down the leather seams. "So then," she'd said, pulling him closer, "does this mean if this goes well the two of you will be braiding each other's hair and borrowing each other's clothes?"
He'd grinned, flashing her a smile that nearly made her heart stop, "Now Swan," he said, running his hand through her hair, "come now. There is no chance the Dark One could, how do you say it in this world, 'pull off,' a leather outfit like mine." Emma smiled. I'm not so sure about that, she thought, until Hook moved even closer and she stopped thinking entirely.
"But enough about that," he whispered.
Yes, she closed her eyes and leaned in, enough about that...
Her phone buzzed. It was a text message from David, and it looked as if it had been typed hastily.
Not coming. Neal has cough. Slight fever. At hospital. Whale says it's a cold, but google says could be bad, really bad so we are staying. Sorry.
Thanks a lot, guys, Emma thought to herself. She was already regretting teaching her parents how to use google, but she'd thought it would help update that antiqued 1950s pregnancy and baby book Mary Margaret carted around everywhere. That book actually had a chapter about the importance of not letting a newborn stop you from tidying the house, keeping your makeup fresh, and ensuring a hot dinner was on the table before your husband came home - which made Emma and Mary Margaret laugh uproariously. Now, however, having had the 21st century unleashed on them, David and Mary Margaret were always rushing to google every fever, rash and cry, which Emma feared only added to the stress of new parenting. The timing couldn't be worse for them to bail tonight, but she understood their reaction - new parents panicked about every little thing. She herself remembered the challenges of having a newborn, and how overwhelming it could be - or rather, she supposed, she remembered what Regina's memories had taught her about having a newborn.
Emma felt a twinge of sadness when she thought about Regina. The Mayor had all but barricaded herself in her house after Emma and Hook brought Marian back from the past, allowing entry only to Henry and, occasionally, Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret checked on Regina daily and brought her cartons of ice cream and old movies in an attempt to help her through her sadness at losing Robin to his not-so-dead wife - to everyone's surprise, Regina seemed to appreciate her presence, even as she continued to rebuff Emma's attempts to reconcile. Emma was saddened to have caused Regina pain, but she didn't regret saving Marian's life - Roland was so happy to get a chance to know his mother, and the two of them could often be seen, strolling through the main streets of Storybrooke hand in hand. It was hard on Henry, however, to have his two moms at odds with each other again so she hoped she and Regina could move past it. Interestingly, Hook had dropped a few hints that Robin was also struggling with Marian's return and his break up with Regina, although when she pressed him further, Hook refused to divulge more – more details from Gold's mysterious bachelor party that he wouldn't talk about, she guessed.
So it looked as if it would just be the four of them tonight then. Emma's fingers itched to call Henry – he would know what to say to put everyone at ease – but he was spending the night at Regina's and she knew better than to interrupt their time together. Nope, she was going to have to deal with this herself.
"Emma?"
Emma jumped, "Belle! Oh, hi, I was just..."
"I know what you were doing. You can't leave me alone with those two. I've already exhausted discussions about Henry's upcoming science fair, whether they think the economy will survive the recent market downturn and what they thought of the series finale of 'Breaking Bad.' Rumple loved it, by the way, he thinks Walter White is a genius, but Hook just gave me a blank look... And the appetizers haven't even arrived yet. A little help, please?"
Emma looked over at the table. The two men were sitting in silence. Hook kept his eyes down at his lap, while Gold just glared at him.
"Well, at least they aren't trying to kill each other? It could be worse?"
Belle looked over at her husband and his former arch nemesis. "I think I might kill them myself if they don't stop acting like children. This is painful. When are Snow and David coming? Rumple only agreed to this plan because he thought David would be here." He's not the only one, Emma thought. "Now stop hiding and join us. Oh dear, now it looks as though they are seeing who can more effectively scare the waiter. I think we need to get over there, fast."
Emma looked. Hook had his hook positioned purposefully in the middle of the table, noisily and methodically slicing holes in the tablecloth until it looked like Swiss cheese. Gold was waving his hand and making all the dinner cutlery march like a line of toy soldiers across the table and jump onto the tray in the aghast waiter's hand. The poor man looked terrified.
"See, they're fine! They're having fun!"
Belle rolled her eyes. "Right, Emma. Nice try. Let's go."
"I knew this was a terrible idea," Emma muttered under her breath, as Belle gently pushed her in the direction of the table.
Although Gold kept his eyes on the hapless waiter, Hook looked up at the women as they approached. You owe me, Hook's face told her. As if this was enjoyable for her. Belle gripped the chair behind Rumple, and gave him a gentle kiss, at which point he stopped making the cutlery move and allowed the waiter to escape to the kitchen. Emma leaned over, placed a hand on Hook's leg and whispered softly in his ear, "Mary Margaret and David aren't coming. Let's get through the first course and I'll fake a call from Henry and we can get out of here. Deal?" Emma noticed Belle whispering something to Gold out of the corner of her eye – probably making him a similar promise. Hook nodded slightly and she took her seat next to him at the table.
She suddenly noticed that the restaurant was all but empty. Hadn't they required a reservation on this busy Saturday night? Now, she only saw the wait staff and a couple dwarves sitting at the bar. Belle saw her inquisitive glance and smiled wanly, "Rumple still has that effect on people sometimes – it's funny how quickly places clear out if they see him. It's great sometimes, actually – I never have to wait in line, and we always get the best seats at the theatre!"
Emma managed a strangled laugh at Belle's desperate attempt at humour. Hook leaned back in his chair, his smile unassuming but not quite reaching his eyes. Immediately Emma tensed - although charming to the unfamiliar, she knew that he was never so deadly as when he had that look in his eye. "Not too keen on you are they? Suppose they don't fancy being turned into toads. Or maybe they are just less than impressed with your dazzling people skills."
Gold took a piece of bread from his plate and began to tear small pieces of it, rolling each bite between his fingers before placing it in his mouth. His every movement was as precise and as deliberate as a cat, every movement accounted for, every action pre-meditated. Emma could see the colour drain from Belle's face and she realized that the conversation was teetering dangerously close to the edge of... something, she didn't know what. But she knew it wasn't good. She realized that for all the two men claimed to have moved on from the past, for all they had worked together both in Neverland and against the Wicked Witch, they had never actually spoken, one-on-one, to each other. If Mary Margaret and David had been here, it would have been easy to hide behind the easy banter of her parents' exuberance - without them, the two men were raw, exposed, limping with wounds from centuries-old grudges.
Gold spoke, and every word dripped with venom, "Well dearie, turning someone into a toad is so unsatisfactory. Amateur, really. I much prefer to rip out a heart - much more effective, don't you think? But of course, you've seen it done so you'd remember it well."
Emma felt dizzy. She felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. She could see Belle on the other side of the table stumbling to her feet, and she could see Hook's knuckles tightening of the edges of the chair. Belle shot her a look, and in that instant the two women understood each other - this was an ultimate dance of daring, a one-upmanship of bluffing, an epic game of playing chicken with an ongoing train. Who would blink first?
Emma placed her hand on Hook's arm. In that instance he looked at her, and she could see the tension fraught throughout his body. It's not worth it, she willed him to understand, you've come too far. We are worth more than anger and revenge. She willed him to understand what she didn't say.
Being Emma, however, she didn't know how to put these thoughts into words, all she said was, "Guys, don't be assholes. Seriously."
Hook relaxed. Belle relaxed. Gold didn't relax, but he managed a tight smile. The waiter, who had been peering fearfully from the kitchen door, emerged with the appetizers - some kind of shrimp cocktail thing accompanied by some deep fried vegetables, long cold after having been abandoned on the serving tray while the wait staff took shelter in the kitchen.
Hook and Emma exchanged a glance - get through the first course, fake a call from Henry, end this brutal evening - check.
Gold still looked poised, but after seeing how pleased Belle was at the more relaxed atmosphere, he stood down. "Belle, when I said I wouldn't kill him, that doesn't mean I would ever learn to like him."
Hook smiled thinly, "No arguments here, mate. Considering how many times we've tried to kill each other over the past 300 years, I think anything other than bare tolerance would be unrealistic."
Emma looked back and forth between both men. "Well, what's a little attempted murder between friends. Right?"
Emma swore that Gold looked almost amused as Belle groaned and Hook cocked an eyebrow at her (Seriously, Swan? That's the best you can come up with?) He was an interesting man, Mr. Gold. So cunning, so calculating, capable of so much cruelty but also capable of so much love. She'd seen it with his love for Neal, and now with Belle - he loved his wife very much, that much was obvious. Emma also had the strangest feeling that he had an odd respect for her - although that hadn't stopped him from trying to manipulate her at every turn, she had the sense that he had a sort of twisted affection for her. Not that she could ever really understand what made him tick. Parts of his nature remained a mystery even, she suspected, to Belle herself.
Now Hook... Hook was another story, one she couldn't think too deeply about at the moment because it was too confusing.
The appetizers remained in the centre of the table, cold and untouched. She looked at Hook and he nodded slightly. Time to go, back to the new apartment she and Henry now shared. With him at Regina's tonight, they'd have the place to themselves. They'd given this a try, and it had gone much as she'd expected – not well. It was time to admit defeat. She'd give her parents a call first to check in, and then she and Hook could escape.
Emma reached down into her bag and fiddled with her phone buttons until it vibrated. "Oh, a text from Henry. I'd better call him, looks as if he needs me to pick him up, I guess Regina isn't feeling well. Excuse me for a minute." She jumped up from the table. A few minutes more, and they could leave. She could tell that Gold knew she was lying, was practically disdainful at how poorly she was hiding it, but she also knew Gold would be just as glad to see an end to this evening as she was so he would overlook her deception.
She made her way to the ladies' room, where she pressed her hands against the mirror above the sinks and placed her forehead on the glass. Deep breaths, in and out. Almost there.
"This really has backfired rather spectacularly, hasn't it?" Belle appeared behind her, "I know it was a silly idea, really, but I just thought... If I could forgive, maybe they could too."
Emma looked up. The last thing she was in the mood for was a heart-to-heart. She was never good at those types of things - if Mary Margaret were here, she'd know what to do, what to say. Emma was definitely not Mary Margaret. As nice as Belle was, she didn't think the two of them had anything in common other than the fact that they were with men who had been alive for hundreds of years - although now that she thought about it, perhaps that would be an interesting conversation to have after a few drinks. But even there, she doubted they spoke the same language or even would enjoy the same drink - Belle was more of a peach schnapps or Bellini type of girl, whereas Emma... well, Emma wasn't sure what kind of drink she was, but she knew she was definitely made of harder stuff than a Bellini.
Whisky. Definitely some kind of whisky.
She lifted her hands from the mirror and shrugged. "I guess sometimes things just are the way they are, and you have to be happy with what you've got. Not everyone is made to be friends. Not everyone is capable of forgiveness. That's just life."
Belle smiled, sadly, "I know it's not easy for anyone to forgive. I've done it a lot, but it's always been a struggle. It is easy to hate - easy to blame, easy to brood and fester. Any coward can hate. Forgiving... It's hard. Really hard. It's the bravest thing any of us could ever do, really. "
Belle looked away, tracing her fingers along the floral patterns of the bathroom wallpaper. Emma realized that before her was a woman who had, like her, spent most of her life alone. For Emma, it had been a choice - it had been easier to keep people distant that to let them get too close and risk getting hurt, but Belle was another story. She had gone from sheltered in her father's house, to isolated in the Dark One's Castle, to imprisoned by Regina, to being frozen for 30 years in an insane asylum - none of it by her own choice. Belle had never had much of a chance to have friends before, and she looked as though she really needed one.
Perhaps they had more in common than she thought.
Emma had never been a very good friend to anyone before. "Listen, Belle, I..."
She froze. The energy in the room had shifted - it felt as though the temperature had plummeted. She felt a searing pain in her chest and a tingling in her entire body. Something was wrong.
"Do you feel that?"
Belle shook her head.
"Where are they?" Emma demanded, "Hook and Gold? How long have we been gone? We have to get back out there. Now!"
Emma raced down the hall towards the double doors that led into the dining area, Belle at her heels. They saw the cooks, the waiting staff and the two dwarves cowering in the kitchen. They saw the two women approach the doors and they shook their heads. Don't go in there. Emma pushed her hands against the doors to swing them open, and she was blasted back by a force, one so powerful she was knocked onto the ground.
Gold. That bastard had put up a barrier spell.
The question was, why?
Emma felt her magic working. She could break the spell, but she knew it would take time. Desperate to get through, she focused all her strength on trying to break the doors.
Please let me through. Please let me be strong enough. I have to get to him. Please.
Belle was at her side. "He won't hurt him. He won't. This isn't who he is anymore." Emma wondered if Belle was trying to convince Emma or herself. "What is going on? Emma, can you get through? What is happening?"
Emma kept focusing on breaking through. Gold had made the barrier spell very strong, but she was weakening it, she could tell. She looked through the glass of the door, almost afraid of what she would see.
Gold and Hook were standing on either side of the table, staring at each other, eyes never leaving each other's face. They were speaking, quietly and menacingly, but Emma couldn't make out what they were saying. Then all of a sudden, she could make out Gold's words:
"If you refuse to go back to the sea, pirate, then I will make the sea come back for you."
The room was still. Eerily still. Then Emma heard a rushing sound, like a thousand drains being unplugged simultaneously, and the unmistakable smell of salt. The women watched in horror as a whirlpool of ocean appeared in the restaurant, swirling around the two men and the dining table. Tables, chairs, salt and pepper shakers were caught up in the melee, drifted along with fish, jellyfish and octopus that can been swept into this strange scene from who knew where. In the centre of it all, Hook and Gold stood, the eye of the storm, immune, for now, to the swirl of marine life around them.
Emma tried harder and harder to break the barrier spell, while Belle clenched her fists and pounded on the door. Her heart was in her stomach. Everything moved around her like slow motion. This was what it felt like, those last seconds before someone you love was about to be killed. This is what Mary Margaret had felt, seconds before Cora tried to rip out Emma's heart. This is what Regina felt like when Daniel died, what Belle felt like when Rumple had killed Pan and himself. The slow feeling of moving through molasses, of despair, of helplessness.
Please. Please, I need to get through.
The barrier spell was weakening, but not quickly enough. She knew she wouldn't get there in time before the ocean consumed them. She saw Hook, unflinching, standing before the man he'd hated for 300 years. "Do something!" she cried, "Just do something to make this stop!"
As if in a dream, she saw Hook stare straight at Gold, and raise his left arm. Emma heard Belle screaming as Hook lifted his hook, the flash of silver glinting in the light.
He reached into the steam of water, and pulled out a fish. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the fish, squirming, towards Gold, where it landed in the centre of his plate.
Gasping for air, the fish flapped his tail wildly, dampening Gold's tie with sea water as it lay, in its death throes, in front of him.
What the hell was that?
With a final push of effort the barrier spell snapped and Emma and Belle fell through the doors and into the dining room. Through the whirlpool of ocean they could see Gold pick up his tie and stare at the tiny flecks of water that the fish had left on the delicate silk.
The waters calmed, and then disappeared. The room was again bone dry. And then, to her surprise, Emma heard a strange, unfamiliar sound.
Gold was laughing.
She had never heard Gold laugh before. She had heard the Dark One's impish giggles during her visit to the past, but this was something else entirely. This was a deep guffaw, a side splitting chuckle. Gold was really, really laughing. She looked over at Belle, who was smiling now. "Is that..." Emma asked, "Yes," Belle replied, "I've never heard him laugh here in Storybrooke like that before. But it's ok. Everything is going to be ok."
It's infectious really, that type of laughter. She and Belle walked over to the table to see Gold wave his hand over the hapless fish. It disappeared, to be replaced by ten perfectly arranged salmon sushi rolls, wrapped carefully in seaweed.
"Anyone care for some sushi?" Gold smirked, "It's a delicacy in this world, for those of you who don't have the benefit of such knowledge."
Hook snorted, "Chopped up raw fish? A delicacy? It's a travesty it wasn't the case in our world - I would have made a killing with all the fish I had at my disposal. Makes piracy seem a pauper's game."
Gold laughed again, and signaled to the waiter to bring another round of drinks - scotch this time. While it was the finest scotch in Storybrooke, it still left something to be desired, but it sparked a rather heated discussion between the men on the benefits of over-proofed rum vs Glenfiddich, which luckily this time only involved intense debate. As strange as it was to hear the men talking almost civilly to each other, Emma thought it was better to just wait and see where the rest of the evening would go, now that the two seemed content to no longer threaten each other. To her surprise, the conversations continued, naturally shifting to a wide variety of topics. Emma knew that Hook could be extremely charming in a crowd, and here was no exception - his tale of escape from an angry mermaid who had fallen in love with Mr. Smee had them alternatively spellbound and laughing hysterically - but Mr. Gold himself was shockingly funny, with a dry, sardonic wit. Belle, however, was the real surprise - she was funnier than Emma had anticipated, and her imitation of Gold trying to explain to Bashful how to custom make his suits had them all in stitches. A dark horse, this Belle. Perhaps less of a peach schnapps girl than Emma had originally thought.
Emma herself wasn't used to laughing, so she was surprised to hear the sound come so often from her own throat - from time to time she could catch Hook looking at her out of the corner of his eye, pleased to see her enjoying herself. She avoided his glance. It was safer to be in company of others then to be alone with the full weight of her realization, of what she'd discovered when she thought he was seconds away from death. She loved him. She knew he loved her, heck the whole town knew that, but she had spent so much time pretending she was "just having fun" that the depth of her feelings had sneaked up on her.
But she'd be damned if she was going to tell him. In fact, she was going to do her best to forget herself.
She finished her drink. Hook and Gold seemed to possess the rather remarkable ability to keep drinking and not appear anything other than stone-cold sober. She suspected magic was at work in Gold's case, and years of drinking alcohol like water had doubtless built up Hook's tolerance, although she had a suspicion that he was actually drinking less than he wanted Gold to think. An old pirate trick, she reckoned. She put a hand over her glass when the waiter came around for a refill - she needed to stay clear-headed. The worst thing she could do was have too many drinks and start blurting out words of love and sentimentality. Emma was always in control in situations such as these, and she wasn't about to stop now.
She could see Hook looking at her again, quizzically this time - she'd gotten too quiet and had been avoiding his gaze too much. Ordinarily she would have been much more flirtatious, sitting close next to him, brushing her hand against his leg, leaning in too far across his lap to grab her drink from the table. She was acting strangely, and he'd noticed.
Finally, she saw Belle stifle a yawn - they'd all but closed the place down and it was time to go. It was odd, really, to think of where they'd ended up tonight. There were some topics that they'd known better than to discuss - some wounds that it was better not to reopen, wounds that may never fully heal. At Belle's signal, the two men stood and looked at each other - they would never be friends, but at least they could leave this evening no longer enemies. Between them, unsaid, lay all the acts that needed forgiveness, lay the apologies that neither one would ever say but – perhaps – no longer needed to be spoken.
There were no nods, no handshakes, no affectionate claps on the back. This was a truce, one that was hopefully more than temporary, that transpired during an evening that would likely never been repeated. But then again, maybe it did not need to be.
Hook looked, and for the first time saw Mr. Gold - not the cackling Rumplestilskin who had haunted his every waking moment for hundreds of years.
Gold looked, and saw Killian, not the fearsome Captain Hook, a man who was perhaps more like himself than he had ever realized.
Emma and Belle looked, and saw two men, too proud to say more but finally brave enough to let go of their past.
Gold nodded his head. "This doesn't mean I like you now, Pirate."
Hook smiled wryly in reply. "I would despair if you did."
Belle ran up to Emma and gave her a hug. To Emma's surprise, she allowed the other woman's embrace. "I know this was crazy," she whispered, "but sometimes, it's the craziest things that are most worth doing." She added, with a wink, "Now we're off home before it gets too late. We are still on our honeymoon, after all."
Emma smiled. That Belle really WAS a dark horse.
Belle and Gold turned to leave. Emma and Hook heard them walking as they were walking towards the door, "You know, Belle, I was never actually going to hurt him. I just wanted to scare him a little..."
Hook muttered under his breath, "Scare me? Hardly. I wasn't scared of him three hundred years ago, why on earth would I start now? The arrogance of that man."
Emma suspected that some things would never change.
Together, the saviour and the pirate walked home along the water, strolling side by side, not touching but not feeling the need to speak either. Finally, Emma's curiosity got the better of her.
"It's not true, though, is it? That you weren't scared this time? You had nothing to lose before, but now... I... thought you had more to live for now. Weren't you worried, even a little bit?"
Hook kept his eyes straight ahead. "The Dark One and I have come a long way. I don't think either of us will ever rush to lay our lives on the line for each other, but for him to kill me? In front of you and the woman he loves? I knew he couldn't do it, not anymore."
Emma looked away. She tried to push down the bubble of anger that was forming in her throat. "How can you be so cavalier? Did you think it was easy for me? Seeing you about to get your heart ripped out?"
Hook playfully took her hand and rested it in the crock of his arm. "Now, Swan, you've seen me in worse spots before. I knew you can handle it. Besides, it did liven up an otherwise fairly dull evening, don't you agree?"
She broke out of his grasp and walked ahead. She wouldn't play along, not this time. "It was different this time." She wouldn't, couldn't, look at him. "Damn you, it was different this time!" She heard his boots scraping on the pavement as he stopped in his tracks.
Oh, shit. She was going to tell him. Despite her best efforts, she was going to tell him.
What the hell.
She turned around. "It was different this time. Because I love you."
Silence. He looked at her and slowly walked up until he was standing in front of her, looking down at her with those impossible eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest.
"I know, Swan. I know."
The air was crisp and cool, with nothing but the faint sound of crickets chirping in the distance.
Emma couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "Killian! Did you just Han Solo me?"
Hook seemed confused. "What's a Hand Solo? You wouldn't be mocking me for only having one hand, would you, Swan? I thought you rather enjoyed my hook."
Emma blinked. "No, Han Solo... You know, the Millennium Falcon, in a galaxy far far away... Friends with Chewbacca..."
"Friends with who?"
Emma was almost relieved at the shift in attention. "No, Chewbacca... the Wookie? Big furry creature? No? That's it. I know it's getting late, but we are heading home to watch Star Wars. All three movies if we have to. No negotiation."
Hook looked bewildered, but Emma was glad. Now perhaps he would just forget what she'd said, and things could go back the way they had been... before.
They walked companionably together for a few more minutes, towards the docks and Emma's new apartment. The air smelled salty and Emma could hear the gentle sounds of the ocean as it lapped around the rocks. They crossed the pier to the front door of her apartment building, and Emma pulled her keys out of her pocket.
"Emma?"
"What is it?"
"Henry showed me the Star Wars trilogy last week. All three of the original ones, anyway, although he's told me there are more. That Han Solo is a rather fine chap."
She shook her head, but couldn't suppress a grin. "Hook! I can't believe it, you knew the whole time!"
Hook grinned at her. "Aye, lass, I did. It was much more fun to pretend otherwise." And you knew it would be easier for me, she thought, than to have a big emotional display.
Emma looked up at him and saw him looking at her. There was so much love for her reflected in his face, so many emotions, feelings that she had never been any good at dealing with. She knew how to love fiercely, as her feelings for her parents and Henry had shown her, but she was not very good at allowing herself to be loved.
Maybe it was time to change that.
"You cocky bastard." Emma gave him a gentle push.
Hook took her hand and lifted it gently to his lips. "Would you really want me any other way?"
No, she wouldn't. She really wouldn't.
She unlocked the door, and the two of them walked through the doorway. "Swan?" he asked, with a mischievous glance, "since our plans to watch six hours of film have been proven unnecessary, may I suggest another way that we could spend the rest of our evening?"
Emma turned to face him, wrapping both her arms around him as she lifted her head to look at him. "Why, what would you suggest, Captain? Because I am all ears."
Hook smiled, and, with his hook, slowly pushed the door closed, shutting out the outside world and leaving the two of them, alone, bathed in the light of the moon spilling in through the window.
In a few hours, the moon would fade, and the sun would rise. It would rise over a Storybrooke that was the same, only different after the course of one evening. It would rise over a couple, quiet in their acknowledgement of new love, not sure of what the day would bring for them, but confident that they would get through it together. It would rise over a pair of newlyweds, tucked into bed, his arm around her shoulders as she slept peacefully, happy in the knowledge that her husband had demonstrated bravery in the most difficult way he could, not by fighting but, instead, by choosing to forgive.
It was, indeed, a new day.
