A/N: This takes place after 4x04, "The Apprentice." I wanted to give Snow and Hook a chance to interact, given how Snow is pretty much on the Captain Swan ship with the rest of us now. Hope you enjoy! Thanks as always for your reviews, follows and favorites. I truly appreciate it.
Emma's message to Killian this morning was simple enough: Come meet me when you get up. But when he called to find out where exactly, Emma didn't answer and he tried not to be frustrated. She'd explained there were many reasons why she didn't pick up sometimes and none of them were because she didn't want to speak with him, so that was reassuring at least. Granny's was not far from her parents' place, so he figured he'd start there and work his way over to the sheriff's station if need be. If his luck held, he wouldn't run into the Dark One or anyone else before he found Emma.
Killian stood outside the door of David and Mary Margaret's flat, currently bereft of the boisterous activity it usually held with so many occupants, and he considered continuing on, but a part of him wondered if that was why she wanted to meet him. A quiet—and empty—apartment at their disposal. Trying to keep the urgency out of the knock, Killian straightened his jacket and pulled the sleeve down more over his brace. The fit wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. Especially if it was just going to come off anyway.
As the door swung open, Killian's grin widened in time with its arc. Every minute he spent apart from Emma was lost time, and he could not have been more pleased that she wanted him by her side first thing this morning. So when the door revealed a rather harried Snow White, Killian's smile faltered.
"Killian! What are you doing here?" she said, the surprise on her face shifting to something more like confusion as she glanced in the direction of his hook he was unconsciously adjusting. She rocked back and forth lightly to soothe the squirming babe in her arm, but looking at her motion, Killian felt like he was aboard a ship again, trying to maintain balance against the rolling water beneath. It was all he could do not to join her.
"Emma asked me to meet her, but didn't indicate where. Is she here? She didn't answer her phone," he explained, moving both his hand and hook behind his back.
At that piece of information, Mary Margaret's dark brows furrowed briefly. "Oh. Really? Well, she, David, and Elsa left just a little while ago. I think they were heading right for the sheriff's station. Not sure why Emma didn't answer...Hope they didn't run into anything..." She trailed off as her thoughts were interrupted when the young prince began to fuss aloud.
"Perhaps I should be going then. Thank—" he started, bowing slightly as he took a step back.
Mary Margaret moved aside and nodded toward the apartment. "Actually, Killian if you wouldn't mind coming in for a sec, I could use a hand...Not that a hook won't do!" she said quickly, glancing at him then away again.
He could see the color rising in her cheeks and he pressed his lips together in a tight smile. She'd been the first to notice his hand the other evening when he picked up Emma, and it hadn't escaped her that he was donning the hook yet again. He felt the weight of the last day settle in his chest, his situation with Gold taking up more room than he cared to give it.
"I need to fold up Neal's new portable bassinet to bring to the mayor's office with me, and I'm already running behind. Would you mind helping me bring everything down to my car?" she asked as she brought the baby over to a small, reclined seat with a handle arching over it, resting atop the island counter.
"It would be my pleasure," he said, standing by the stairs leading to Emma's room waiting for further instruction. Killian continued, "My apologies, by the way. I've neglected to congratulate you on your new position, Madam Mayor. You must be relieved to finally be leading your people in an official capacity."
She held her son up to smile at him then kissed his rounded cheek before putting him in the seat. "I am. But the timing could have been better. And...some of the people," she muttered the last part under her breath.
Before he could continue with more mundane conversation, rather than anything particularly personal, Snow changed the topic in precisely the direction he wished to avoid. "Emma looked beautiful for your date the other night."
"Aye, indeed she did," he agreed.
"And you look very dashing in your new clothes as well," she offered, sparing him a quick look and a smile that highlighted the apples of her cheeks so much like Emma's.
Killian scratched behind his ear. "Thank you."
"Maybe next time you can take David shopping. He's starting to dress like a lumberjack," she said more to her son than Killian if her child-like tone for that last part was any indication.
"Given the amount of time he spends traipsing through the woods hunting villains and criminals, is it any wonder?" Killian pondered aloud, amused to see Snow teasing David, even if the Prince wasn't there to defend himself. Perhaps he and Snow had more in common than he first thought. Maybe he was going about needling David all wrong, because it seemed his wife made a better ally than target. Killian released some of the tension in his shoulders and relaxed against the railing of the steps.
"Not really," Snow agreed with a laugh. "Although, he tells me that catching criminals isn't so different than herding sheep, so I suppose it's a good fit for him." Turning around while still keeping a hand on the baby's well-padded seat, she nodded toward Killian's left arm.
"And your hand? Did Rumple only give you until midnight to keep it or something?" she narrowed her eyes as she tilted her head waiting for his answer.
Back to feeling more than a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Killian glanced down at the offending object. "Something like that," he evaded, frowning.
Snow shook her head and gave a small huff. "Hardly seems right," she said, frowning along with him.
"Couldn't be helped," he answered as casually as he could, attempting to give her a smile that conveyed he wasn't bothered. The look on her face was inscrutable.
Regardless, that was as much as Killian dare say—knowing all too well Snow's lack of ability to keep things from Emma—even though he could not have agreed more with Snow's assessment of the situation. None of it was right. Not his dealing with Rumple, not his hand influencing him in such a way, and not the fact that he couldn't have back what was his to begin with. The irony was putting back the part of him that was not a weapon turned out to be more dangerous than the sharp point at the end of his hook. What made matters worse, was there was no relief with his hook being returned. He was still a weapon, only now the man who made him into everything he wished to forget, controlled where he was aimed, which given the purpose of that bloody hat, could well be Emma and her magic. He'd be damned and dead before he let that happen. In spite of their current amity, Killian was quite sure her mother would help facilitate that particular fate for him to save Emma too.
Mary Margaret hummed a bit too dubiously for his liking, pulling him out of his head and back to her presence. Right now, neither place was safe. Perhaps lie detection ran in the family and it wasn't just a Savior thing. Perhaps it was a family trait.
She sighed and patted little Neal's leg. "Well, would you mind standing here with the baby while I gather up the rest of our things? Then you can help me bring all our stuff down," Snow said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the dining room table where a few bags were piled. "Might be time to consider a home without so many stairs," she added.
He moved to take Snow's place at the counter and looked down at Emma's brother, offering a ringed finger to the lad, which he grabbed with surprising strength. Snow walked into the living room and began folding up the small bassinet in front of the couch.
Still playing with the baby, Killian looked over at Snow and observed, "Babies in this realm certainly require a great deal of paraphernalia. You seem to be managing it all well."
Snow let out a chuckle as she struggled with one part that was not collapsing properly. "I dunno about that. But yes, there are more things than any one child probably needs to be happy." Having finally wrestled the bassinet into its portable form, Snow began picking up the rest of the bags she needed from the table.
"Speaking of happy," she said as she made her way over toward Killian, arms full, "Emma certainly was when she came home from her date with you." She nudged Killian with her elbow and gave him a sly grin.
Killian tried to rein in the smile spreading across his face, but it took some effort. "Is that so?" he asked. Not that he wasn't fairly confident Emma enjoyed herself based on their good night kiss alone, but it was still nice to hear from someone as close to her as her mother. And if they hadn't had a good time, he was equally as sure he would have become acquainted with David's right jab again.
"Did you have a good time too?" Snow asked. Her honest curiosity and hopefulness that his answer would match what she saw in her daughter that night as plain as cloudless day at sea.
"Aye. That I did," he said with a satisfied smirk. This was the most information she had finagled out of him since she and David dragged him out of the hospital to find Cora. He had to admit, he preferred this method over an arrow pointed at him and David's hand at his throat.
"Good," she said with a quick nod and a warm smile. "You can tell me all about the restaurant on the way down to the car. David and I are itching to go out soon, but I don't think I can stomach another meal...or the clientele...at Granny's right now. Can you bring Neal down for me?" she asked, smiling at her dozing son.
Killian was somewhat taken aback. "Are you sure? I can carry the bags instead if you like."
Snow shook her head. "Nope. I've got everything perfectly balanced. You can put that hook to use if you are going to keep it. Take the handle and follow me."
"Very well," he answered, lifting the seat from the counter and transferring it to his hook. "At least let me get the door then."
"Why thank you, Killian."
As he went to open the door for Mary Margaret and her bags, Killian noticed a picture of Emma on the small bureau to the right, caught with her mouth open, probably mid-sentence, and her hands gesturing as they were wont to do when she was nervous. In spite of the awkward capture, Emma looked genuinely excited. Her mother may have the keepsake of their night, but the image of Emma when she opened the door—stunning was an understatement, but there was no proper word to describe how she looked—would never leave his mind.
Passing through the doorway and down the stairs, Mary Margaret fired off at least a dozen questions about the food, the ambience, and the service at the restaurant. He did his best to keep his answers brief, not wishing to make the new mayor later than she already was, or keep him from catching up with Emma. They had the young Prince loaded in the back seat of the car and all her various baggage in the trunk when she ran out of things to ask. But before he could break off and make his way to the sheriff's station, Snow put her hand on his arm, stopping him.
"Thank you again, Killian," she said with a sincerity that far exceeded the small amount of help he just gave.
"Wasn't any trouble at all. The lad weighs less than a cannon ball," he responded.
"Oh, that's not what I mean, and you know it. Thank you for making Emma happy. Given who she is, I was afraid I would never see it. I know she's not a baby, but she is my child, and all I ever want for her is to be happy. For the first time since I've known her, she was just that. Happy," Snow said with a contented sigh. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up!" she said, patting his arm before opening her car door and getting in.
Killian didn't know how to respond. Worry began to gnaw at his heart. This situation wasn't going to end quickly or quietly, knowing the Crocodile as he did. And now it wasn't going to be only Emma he would disappoint. The weight he felt settle in his chest earlier, spread into his gut and tightened his throat. He needed to find a way out of this coerced partnership with haste.
Shutting the door for Mary Margaret, Killian backed away and bowed. "A good day to you, Madam Mayor."
"And you, Killian."
As she drove off, Killian's phone rang. He pressed the "talk" button, and was barely through his greeting when Emma interrupted him.
"Where are you? We know where to find the Snow Queen. I need you down at my office now," she said in a rush.
"I'm on my way, love. Be there in a couple of moments."
The call ended as abruptly as it started, and Killian took off at a brisk pace toward the sheriff's station cursing this new witch's timing.