Author's note: This episode is set during the general events of season 2. Greg and Tamara are furthering their plan to destroy Storybrooke. To that end, Tamara kidnapped Hook in New York and hopes to use him against Regina. Deviation from strictly canonical events in that Emma discovers Greg and Tamara's plan without Neal.
Hook shifted as the metal box stopped. Untold hours had passed as he sat tied to this wooden chair in the dark. The angry-looking lass found him in the storage closet in that crowded village. She didn't leave him free for long. He awoke later, in the blackness of the metal box, with a larger headache.
He worried about the effect it would have on his rugged good looks if people insisted on knocking him asunder. This had not proven to be a particularly hospitable land.
As his body continued to wake, he felt the tension coiled in his neck muscles. He rolled his head with care.
He winced. A mistake.
The tension extended down through his shoulders blades. His fingers were numb and fat; his wrists chaffed. His ankles were pulled back, secured against the legs of the chair, and his knee caps throbbed from the torque. The gag knotted around his mouth pulled at the corner of his lips like a horse bit. Breathing was laborious. Shouting, impossible.
When he got his hands on the fools who did this . . .
Boots crunched on rocks outside. Two voices, male and female—probably the angry-looking lass. Someone threw the hatch open. The first thing he saw was night sky. Hook breathed deeply of the fresh air that washed over his face. He heard no sounds of the sea. Rather, the sounds of insects and birds.
The moment was ruined when the dour man with the bald head shone his torchlight into Hook's face.
In silence, Hook felt himself being appraised. At last, Bald Head said, "Well done, Tamara. I always wanted a pet pirate."
"The answer," Hook rasped, "is still no."
The slap connected with the right cheek, as he'd expected. He turned his head with it and let his neck hang. He didn't have the strength to hold himself upright. He panted as the other hand came and struck his left.
Hook actually groaned at that one. She'd hit a bruise.
"You will do this," Tamara shouted in his face. "Or we will kill you."
"Kidnap the lad yourselves. The queen will tell you what you want."
Tamara shook her head. "We can't risk anything being traced back to us. You're the scapegoat."
Hook lifted his head high enough to glare at her from under his lashes. "I," he breathed, "decline."
Tamara screamed in frustration and hit him so hard his head flew backwards. "You stupid pirate! One favor for us will earn you the ability to kill Rumplestilksin. Why can't you cooperate?"
Blood trickled from his nose. It tickled the hairs on his lip. He swayed in the chair as he tried to remain centered. "I observe few moral boundaries. Harming children is one of them. The answer is no."
Tamara clenched her teeth. To Bald Head—apparently his name was Greg, but Hook preferred his moniker—she held out her hand. "Give me the Taser."
Bald Head approached from his post at the front of the horse stall and handed her a small black box. Two thin blades adorned the front. Hook stiffened.
"I'm giving you one last chance." Tamara crouched in front of him. "We will get the boy. You don't have to die, but it's your choice." The black box began to hum. "Will you cooperate?"
Hook eyed the box. Whatever it did surely hurt.
He wore his best smile. "Sorry, love."
Tamara stabbed his neck with the blades. The black box hummed and sizzled before a pain like Hook had never felt crackled through his body. He trembled in the chair. Tamara pushed the blades further. Hook could not keep it in. He screamed.
"Jogging" on the beach.
Yeah, right.
Emma parked her car in the barn driveway. It was deserted, with nothing but mounds of misshapen haystacks in the field giving testimony to the fact the farm had once been in operation. She stepped into the gravel without making noise. Her hands found her coat pockets and she shivered. It was a foggy, brisk October morning in Maine.
She really had come to like it here.
Uh, all things considered.
She approached the barn with measured steps. Every movement was deliberate. She drew towards a dusty window at eye level when an agonized scream shattered the morning peace. It was male, but beyond that she couldn't tell. Emma crouched. Her heart pounded.
Greg and Tamara. It had to be. But who was their prisoner? No one had gone missing.
She eased the gun out of her holster as she crept towards the door. The electricity had long been shut off from the barn, so the cracked light fixtures mounted on the walls posed no threat. The threshold of the barn was black with shadows. She snuck in.
Voices led her towards the rear. A man and a woman.
Got you, Tamara.
The sound of skin on skin, followed by a moan. Again, male.
Emma rolled into an empty horse stall. She could see nothing over the partition, as the back of the barn was darker than even the front. She ducked down when she heard footsteps. They retreated towards the rear left, probably into the tack and feed rooms. She waited a moment to make sure they would not return.
When all remained quiet, she kept her gun raised by her ear as she bent low and scurried from stall to stall. She heard heavy breathing in the last stall. Pausing outside the stall door just to be safe, she pressed her ear against the wood. Was that crying?
Emma took a breath, said a prayer, and ducked inside.
She froze. "Hook!"
The pirate hung in his chair, arms behind his back, head drooping low. He lifted his gaze. "Swan," he rasped.
Emma shoved her gun into her holster and hurried to him. Her pocket knife bit through the cords binding his hands. "I thought you were in New York."
Bruises and blood besotted his face. A hot work light hung above his head, baking the sweat onto the back of his neck. He skin was pale and thin. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Did you enjoy sailing my ship?" Even starved and beaten, he sounded bitter.
"Not now."
The ropes snapped. Emma helped his arms come forward.
He closed his eyes. "Bloody lands. I've never been so happy to see you."
"It's over now."
After she freed his legs, she felt his head. Contusions. He swayed. Eyes unfocused. When his lids drooped shut, she crouched in front of him and pressed her fingertips against his temples. "Hook!"
Sea green eyes opened.
She found herself smiling. Her voice felt small when she said, "Just stay with me, okay?"
His lips parted and lifted. He hummed. "Forever and always, darling."
"We need to stand up. My car is in the driveway. Can you walk?"
"I have been tied to this chair for days. I doubt I can do much anything."
That was not good news.
Emma lifted him to his feet and dropped his arm around her shoulders. As soon as his weight left the chair, his legs collapsed under him. He fell, taking Emma with him. They landed in the old straw and dirt.
Hook cursed under his breath.
It was hard to see him like this.
"Try again." Emma was on her feet, pulling his arm.
"This is pointless." Hook wagged his head. "You have to go. They're after your lad."
"Henry? Why do they want Henry?"
"Something to do with Regina. I don't know the particulars. You have to go. You have to protect him." Hook groaned as Emma lifted him up under the arms like he was a child. His back rested against the stall, taking some of the weight. She used both hands to keep him standing.
"I'm the sheriff. I protect everybody. To the car."
Emma hauled his body out of the stall. He hated that she wouldn't leave. He also loved it.
They labored on. He stepped like a child, and when the weight hit his legs, his knees collapsed. Emma tightened her grip, took more of his weight, and he swung his other foot forward. Then the process repeated.
They made it no further than the aisle. Bald Head and Tamara discovered them, the lass holding a pistol.
Emma stiffened. To stand upright, Hook leaned on her shoulders as if she were a crutch. He saw few good endings to this situation. Emma had a pistol of her own, but encumbered by supporting him, she wouldn't draw swiftly enough. He couldn't run—let alone stand—and she wouldn't leave him. Even if she would, they wouldn't let her leave. They were both liabilities.
Hook's stomach churned.
"Why I am not surprised?" Tamara was saying. "You just can't leave things alone."
"Did you enjoy your jog at the beach?"
Hook squeezed Emma's shoulder. "Leave me," he hissed. It was worth a try. If she left him, right now, she might fight her way out. He could fall onto Tamara. Give Emma a head start.
But no, she ignored him.
"What's going on, Tamara? What do you want with Hook?"
Tamara shrugged. "Nothing personal. We need Henry."
Emma frowned. "Why?"
"Greg has business with Regina. That's all you need to know." Tamara shifted her grip on the gun. "What are we going to do about her?"
Greg shook his head. "Two people can't know about us. Shoot her."
Hook's heart pounded. He couldn't protect her. He couldn't do a bloody thing to protect her. His ribs ached from the beatings with the stick. His legs began to shake with the effort of standing and his knees sagged.
"That's a great idea," Tamara rolled her eyes. "Because no one would miss the sheriff." She smirked. "Or do you prefer 'savior'?"
"Whatever floats your boat. Does Neal know about you?"
Tamara just laughed.
Now Hook's head throbbed. His vision was swaying but he couldn't, just couldn't, leave Emma alone. He squeezed her shoulder for focus and found his voice somewhere at his feet. "The lass is right. Harming the sheriff will only bring you greater trials. Let her go."
The look Tamara gave him was lazy and her lip curled. "Thank you for your opinion, pirate."
"Just shoot her!" Greg said. "We don't have time to deal with both of them."
Hook tried to shift in front of her, but Tamara's answer stopped him cold.
"No," she said, an idea playing out in her tone that made him nervous. "This is just what we need. The captain won't cooperate. Perhaps Emma will."
"So then we shoot him and keep her."
Tamara shook her head. "Secure them. We're going on a little trip."
Author's note: Part 2 is halfway finished. Hoping to post shortly.