So I think that this story could be the last episode of season 3, or even the very last episode of the entire series. I really hope it turns out the way I've written it. I have written an Emma/Hook story in a long time, and I think this story turned out better than I thought. I'm not sure whether I'm entirely happy about it or not, but I want to put it up before series 3 begins.

Anyone else excited for 3x01?

Unfortunately I can't watch it until Wednesday, because I've got work before that and I want to be able to sit down and have plenty of time to watch it. I honestly have no idea where the writers are going to go with this, but I can't WAIT to find out!

Anyway, please enjoy the story!

Only a one-shot.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own any characters in Once Upon a Time or the song "Cause you never said goodbye" which inspired this fic.

You Never Said Goodbye

The day between the soil and the sky
An emptiness, a void, a heaviness, a sigh
But I know you will make it through the night
'Cause you never said goodbye

- Between, Courrier

Everything should have been fine. It was meant to be fine.

They had Henry back. That had been the main goal for everyone – to get Henry, the little boy that was more pure of heart than any of them, back home with the people who loved him. To Gold, Henry and Emma's joy, they had also managed to find Neal. Aurora, Philip and Mulan had found him and somehow managed to heal him. He had now returned with them to Storybrooke. It had been a long trip – apparently they had been gone for an entire year, though it felt longer. But they had all arrived back, a little bit battered, a little tired, a little less sound than before, but overall fine.

Getting back to normal was easier said than done. Or at least, it had felt that way for Emma.

But perhaps she would have succeeded, gone back to feeling like a regular person with a regular job. Perhaps she would have felt safe when walking through the forest, not leaping a foot in the air when a bird flew past, or turning to stone because she thought a tree had moved; perhaps she would have not worried about Henry as much as she did, constantly ringing Neal or Regina or Gold when Henry was with them, making sure that he was okay; and maybe she would have enjoyed Neal's company a little more, not feeling tense when he was around her or anxious when he left, certain he wasn't coming back.

That is, if it had all been truly over, maybe she would have gotten back to normal.

Tamara returned. No one was entirely certain what happened to Greg, not even after they had defeated Pan. Charming and Gold swore they had seen him during the battle, and Regina informed them that he had finally realised that they had nothing to do with his father's disappearance. She said it had broken him, destroyed him; she had watched him weep, pooled to the ground by his own pain. He had lost his father all over again. Emma had a feeling, as the others did, that he wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Tamara though, she was still present and very volatile. She arrived in Storybrooke, furious that their scheme had failed; magic was alive and well in Storybrooke, and showed no signs of disappearing. Bitter about their defeat, she attacked Emma by using the one thing she knew would work – magic. She managed to get into the police department without anyone seeing her and "delivered" a chocolate cupcake on Emma's desk. The blonde arrived back and, thinking it was something from David, she peeled the casing away and casually took a bite.

The last thing she could remember seeing Tamara standing over her, a smile decorating her face.

Thankfully David was in the office, and he tackled Tamara to the ground. Unfortunately the damage had already been done. Emma collapsed to the ground, her eyes closing and threatening never to open again.

He finds her crying one night on deck. Their friendship – not even that, their understanding – is fragile, and he isn't sure whether they are this close. But her parents are asleep below deck (but he's not sure of that, and he'll be damned if he walks in on them) and he doubts Regina and Gold care about her tears.

He wonders why he does.

"I know it's stupid," she says without looking at him. "And I know it doesn't do any good, but I miss him so much."

He doesn't ask whether it's Neal or Henry she's talking about. For all he knows, it's both.

"It's not stupid lass," he answers. "It's...human."

She glances at him. "It sucks," she answers matter-of-factly.

He doesn't laugh. "Agreed."

"I hate being human. I hate feeling this way." She stands and begins to pace, suddenly furious. "I hate feeling so scared about Henry; I hate missing Henry, I hate-" She stops and takes a shuddering breath, as if she's about to cry. "I hate this."

"This?"

Her eyes stay firmly on this. "This," she repeats.

His stomach free-falls. It's been there, all this time, haunting every conversation and moment they share, but neither of them have ever brought it up before. If you don't speak about it, it doesn't exist, right?

Milah, a voice reminds him in his ear, but for once it is almost a whisper and doesn't stop him from leaning forward. Hesitatingly she moves forward to. It's rare for her to make a move – but then, it's rare for him too. The two of them avoid love like it's the plague, yet here they are.

"Just so you know," she says right before their lips touch, "this doesn't mean anything. And nothing comes before finding Henry."

He has to hide a smirk; it's so typical of her. "Agreed," he repeats, and before she can rethink this he wraps his arm round her and pulls her towards her, so her lips and finally on his.

Emma has always been a vibrant girl. Snow cannot imagine her not running about somewhere, ready to tackle on another demon, or not playing with Henry, or not hatching some scheme to save Storybrooke. Looking at her daughter lying in the hospital bed, as pale as paper, Snow has to fight back the urge to huddle into a ball and cry.

"Where is Tamara now?" asks Neal. Snow can only nod, remembering that she too had questions. But her voice seems to have disappeared.

"Locked up." David too, seems in shock. Instead of the commanding tone he usually used, his voice is hoarse. He too, is staring at the bed where his daughter rests. "Regina said she would interrogate her. She would use a truth potion if needed."

Neal slides into a chair beside Emma. Snow has to give it to the boy, he really does care for Emma. As soon as they got in touch with him, he raced over to the hospital and nearly fainted when he saw Emma lying in the bed, unresponsive.

"Regina will be able to help," David says, sounding a bit firmer. "She can solve any problem. She'll be able to fix whatever Tamara's done to her. And Gold will do something." He glances at Neal.

Neal stands. "I'm getting coffee." Snow doesn't think it's a good idea considering he seems so jittery already, tapping his foot and moving round the room. "Anyone want one?"

Snow shakes her head.

"She'll be fine," says David as Neal leaves the room. He wraps his arms round his chest, as if trying to hold himself together.

"We know what this is." Snow's voice is quiet, like snowflakes are falling on the ground.

David doesn't like the way she sounds though. It isn't his Snow. He moves towards her, his arm round her shoulders. "Snow?" he asks softly.

"Look at her." Snow gestures to their beautiful daughter. Did I tell her I loved her when I last saw her? I can't remember. I must have. "Tamara has put the sleeping curse on her."

David jerks his head up, his eyes now sharply gazing at his daughter in analysis. "The sleeping curse?" he echoed.

Snow nods, her hand brushing across her face quickly. "Tamara's smart. She knows that Regina and Gold together could find something to help Emma – so she gave her the one thing that they couldn't fix."

David sits down in the seat Neal had just vacated. "But Snow," he says earnestly, "it's okay! True love's kiss can break the curse – so if Neal kisses her, she'll be fine." He could almost laugh, the answer is so simple. "Neal's her true love."

Snow merely gives him a look.

The lightness in David's voice disappears. "He is Snow. Neal's her true love. He'll kiss her and she'll wake up."

"And if he's not?"

David looks at his wife's face: her eyes are set determinedly, her mouth in a firm line. He has always loved her for her beauty, her wit, her courage – but the thing that immediately caught him was her determination. Snow White would never give up, not on him, not on anyone, especially not Emma.

Her determination renews him.

"Then we'll deal with it."

"Dance with me," he says, when they are finally on deck alone.

She snorts. "I don't think so."

"Dance with me."

"There's no music."

"So what?" he asks. She turns away from him, but he hooks himself on her shoulder and turns her back round. He then places his hook arm round her waist, his other hand clasped into hers. He turns her round the deck, making sure that he is close.

"Didn't I say I don't want to dance?" she asks, but she doesn't try to break free.

"I'm not great at listening love."

The moonlight makes her hair look bright, like sunlight. "Clearly I'm not either," she agrees. "Or I would never have let myself get this far."

She's not talking about their trip to Neverland.

She looks like she's dead already.

Neal can't keep that thought out of his head. He tries to picture her laughing, screaming, cursing, alive, but all he can see is the purple circles round her eyes, the ashen pallet of her skin, how her golden hair doesn't seem to shimmer anymore. She doesn't look like Emma; it's like she's gone already.

Regina had confirmed his suspicions: it was indeed a sleeping curse. With help from Gold, Tamara had confessed. There was only one thing that could wake her up from the sleeping curse was true love's kiss.

All eyes fell on Neal.

And all Neal wants to do is run away and hide. He truly is his father's son.

Neal steals himself. He has to do this. He has to kiss her and get her to wake up. He needs to bring her back – not just for Henry or her parents or for the town in general but for himself. When he was lying on that beach, on the knife edge of death, the thought of Emma was what pushed him on. The thought of seeing her again kept him alive; if he has the chance to give life back to her, he'll take it.

He leans over her, exceedingly glad that everyone else was not in room with him but waiting outside. He tries to remember everything about Emma, the reasons why he loves her: how her smile appeared easily on her face; how she would sing along to songs in the car, even though it sounded like a group of cats; how she could fall asleep easily, like dropping from a cliff.

It doesn't occur to him that he loves someone who no longer exists.

His lips gently brush over his lips and he tries to pretend that Emma is just sleeping – she is just sleeping, but it feels too much like he's kissing a corpse. He forces himself to deepen the kiss, hoping and pleading and praying that she will respond.

He pulls away and waits for a few moments, thinking that it might take a while for it to kick in. But he's kidding himself, and he knows it. This type of magic doesn't work like that. At least, as far as he knows. He has never kissed his true love before. Gazing at Emma's immovable eyelids, he realises that he still doesn't know. Emma isn't waking up. There isn't a glimmer of her former self, no twitch or blink, no little smile before she bursts out of bed, yelling surprise!

Emma isn't his true love.

It is so devastating that his legs go weak. He collapses on the chair, staring with wide eyes at Emma. She's not his true love. They are not meant to be. Maybe they can be a couple, maybe they can work, but this is a sign that they will never be a perfect fit. That there is always someone better out there, someone that might steal one away from the other.

Maybe that's good enough for some people... He's just not sure it's good enough for him.

How can they not be meant for each other? How can they not be star-crossed lovers, destined to be together? He is the son of the Dark One, she is the child of Prince Charming and Snow White; he has betrayed her, she has lied to him; they have a child together. If this was a novel, they would be the couple that everyone could see were meant for each other.

But this isn't a story. Maybe fairytales exist, but not between him and Emma.

The last thing he wants to do is face the crowd outside, eagerly waiting for news. He's only thankful that Granny is watching Henry for them. Their son has no idea what is going on with his mother, and Neal's heart is sinking at the thought of having to tell him.

He steps out into the hall and, as expected, they all turn towards him. Snow's beautiful face crumbles when she sees Neal's, but Charming ignores the obvious. "Well?" he demands. "What happened?"

"It didn't work," he says. Out the corner of his eye he sees his father's face. For once he actually looks surprised – no, shocked. He probably thought that they were each other's true love. Hell, everyone thought that. He thought that.

Only Regina doesn't look surprise. Her face has fallen though, and perhaps she looks a little...sad? Maybe. It's hard to say with her. But it did seem like Regina and Emma bonded during their trip in Neverland. No matter what opposite sides they had been on before, they both adored Henry and that brought them together. Regina can say a lot of things, but Emma has always been a good mother to Henry.

Neal lifts his head. "So what do we do now?" he asks.

Gold claps a hand on his son's shoulder. "There's not much we can do," he says softly. "Only true love's kiss can break the spell. Unless we find Emma's true love..." He glances at Neal again in almost wonder.

"There must be something," Regina says. "You don't have to be the one to tell Henry that he's never going to see his mother again."

"Well, maybe there is something else-" Gold turns to the Charmings only to find that they have disappeared. As silently as a pair of panthers, they had abandoned the others without them realising.

"Do you think they're alright?" asks Neal, glancing round for them.

"Probably not," sighs Gold. "Maybe they're down with Belle." They probably wouldn't be, but Gold can rarely keep his mind off Belle.

Regina knows they won't be with her. She has known David and Snow for years now; the Charming family don't give in. If Plan A hasn't worked, then they'll be trying Plan B. And she's a fool if she doesn't know what Plan B is.

"Tell me something," she says one night, when they are in bed.

"Only if you tell me something first," he says. "Do you ever stop talking?" He has been kissing her for minutes now, and he wants to press his lips against her mouth – but talking makes that difficult.

"Shut up," she insists. "I wanted to ask you – I saw you sword-fighting today and..."

He waits, pressing his nose against her bare chest. He presses kisses on it, enjoying the taste of her.

"You were good," she finishes. "And it made me think... Did you throw the sword fight? When we were trying to get back home and you were with Cora? When we were fighting? Did you throw the fight?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Really."

She gives him a look.

"I did not consciously throw the sword fight. But...I might have unconsciously done it."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

He sighs. "Believe whatever you want. Just as long as you don't make me stop." He watches her face as a slow blush rises to her cheeks and he laughs, continuing to kiss her.

Later, when they are done, he wraps her in the sheets to keep her warm and lies next to her. She doesn't sleep easily, not with all the worry she has, but he tries to make her as comfortable as possible. She leans against his shoulder and closes her eyes. It occurs to him as the ship rocks against the waves that he's never felt happier. Not "happy" exactly, but relaxed. He is with her. When she is with him everything seems clearer. He's never had clarity before. He likes it.

"Oh thank God," says Snow when they reach the port. The Captain's ship is still there, which is a huge relief. Neither she nor David were entirely sure whether Hook hadn't left Storybrooke. It's hard to say whether or not they would be upset if he did sail away. On the one hand, Hook had proven himself to be a loyal ally, saving both Snow and David's lives at least once, if not more. It wasn't as if they felt they owed him; they had just learnt to trust him. On the other hand, he definitely isn't their first choice for their daughter.

Hook is easily found: his feet and swinging above the water, on arm leaning against the banister and the other secured round a bottle of rum.

"Hook!" Snow clings to David in relief. "Thank goodness. Listen, we need to talk to you-"

"Finally come to ask for my help?" Hook doesn't turn round. "Funny, how you didn't rush over immediately, like you did with Regina and the Crocodile. What, am I not as important as they are?"

David exchanges a glance with Snow. "No, it's just that..." He trails off. What can he say? We didn't think it was right? We weren't sure whether you would care anymore? We didn't want to rub Emma and Neal's relationship in your face? Bringing it up though, will not help their cause.

"Hook, please. We need you." Snow takes a deep breath. "Tamara put Emma under the sleeping curse, and we need you to-"

"What?" The pirate whirls round. Snow and David move back. His eyes are a stormy ocean, determined to sink any ship that dares cross its waters. He stands, his fingers turning fists. He lifts his hook, almost menacingly. "You want me to kiss the little princess and magically wake her up? And it'll be so romantic because we're soul mates – true love's kiss, right? That's what you want from me?" He smiles, but it twists into a grimace. "Go find Neal, your majesties."

David swallows. He feels like a man that has put all his money on the wrong horse and now has to admit it. "It didn't work," he says. "Neal kissed her, but... He couldn't wake her up."

"Oh." Hook smiles this time, a glint in those blue eyes of his. "So Storybrooke's favourite couple are, coincidentally, not each other's true love? Didn't expect that, did we?"

"Please." Snow can feel her eyes brimming with tears. "Please Hook, I know that we've had our differences, but we helped each other out once before. Please, just – try. That's all I'm asking. If it doesn't work-"

"Which it won't," snaps Hook. He turns away, facing the sea. "Milah was my true love. She's gone now. Our soul mates don't change just because they die."

David steps towards Hook, though admittedly he keeps a good distance between them. He and Hook have been comrades in the past, but that doesn't change the fact that Hook can easily fly off the handle. "What if you're wrong?" he asks. "What if Emma is your true love?"

"She isn't."

"But-"

"No," snaps Hook. "I'm not the good guy, remember? I'm a villain."

"No, you're not." The voice that pipes up is completely unexpected, and all three of the adults turn. Henry, son of Neal and Emma, grandson of the King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest and the Dark One, foster son of the Evil Witch, stands before them.

Snow instantly goes to the boy. "Henry, what are you doing here?"

"My mom told me what's going on – Regina," he adds quickly. He shoots a glare at Snow. "At least she thought that I could handle it."

Hook swears quietly and jerks his head away. David glowers at the pirate before swiftly turning to Henry. "We're sorry Henry. We just thought that-"

"What? I was too young?" At that moment his voice breaks, like a creak in the floorboards. "Guess what? I've been kidnapped and taken to Neverland; I've faced Pan; I've had to fight my way back to you. I'm not a little kid anymore."

He's right. Snow, David and Hook all realise it at the same time. During the year they spent in Neverland Henry has grown; he is now nearly up to Snow's shoulder. He is beginning to get muscles too, no longer the skinny little boy that he once was. His voice breaks now and again. But it's the darkness in his eyes as well as the purple shadows underneath them that prove that he is no longer innocent.

This isn't supposed to happen in fairytales.

Henry's eyes go to Hook. "You're not a villain, not anymore," he says in a softer voice.

The pirate turns away. "I'm Captain Hook. I teamed up with Cora. I look out for number one."

But Snow is now shaking her head. "Henry's right H-Killian." David does a double-take when he hears Snow use his proper name, and Hook raises his eyebrows. "You're different now. You may be Captain Hook, and you may have teamed up with Cora – but you allied yourself with us too. You look out for number one, but you helped us save Henry."

"And we know that Emma is the main reason for the change in you," David jumps in. "Don't lie. We all saw the look you two shared when you came back with that bean. And you guys may think you were subtle, but we all know what happened on the ship."

"So what?" Hook says. "You all know what happened? Neal returned. They fell into each other's arms as if we had never existed, as if we had never happened." He looks away and David, despite himself, feels a stab of pain. He knows what it feels like to get your heart broken.

To the surprise of the adults it's Henry that steps forward. "Hook, please. This is my mom." He quickly lifts his arm to his face, drying his eyes. Snow feels his own tears falling, but she still manages to catch the quick grimace on Hook's face.

"Sorry lad," he says after a moment. "I can't fix her. I'm not the one."

"Just try," whispers Henry. He grabs the cuff of Hook's shirt, keeping the man facing him. "I've never asked you for anything else, and I never will. We'll leave you alone if it doesn't work, we'll give in – but-" His throat tightens and he struggles to get the words out. "I love her," he says, because that's reason enough.

Hook turns again to the sea, the one friend he's always had. "So do I," he murmurs.

Neal clambers on board the ship, sopping wet. His father is upon him in a second hugging him so tight that he can barely breathe. When they feeling move apart, he stops her. With an animal like cry he pounces on her and wraps his arms round her.

It is almost like a fairytale: a boy is reunited with a girl. They are together again. Everyone around them stops and watches them, feeling love growing in their hearts. Faith being restore. Gaining hope again and all that crap.

What they don't see is her looking over his shoulder, at him. His face is closed off, like a book slamming shut. His body seems to be made of stone, and he looks threatening. For a moment she is scared that he will come towards them, tear them apart and destroy Neal. She wonders whether she actually trusts him.

But instead he steps backwards. She watches as he walks away, to the other end of the ship. She watches as he walks away from her. In response she tightens her grip on Neal and buries her face in his shoulder.

It hurts. Looking at her hurts.

She is not Emma; she is a girl who is on the brink of death. If Hook did not know the girl with ashen skin was Emma, he would not look twice at her. He would never compare the two of them.

"I blame you," he says to the sleeping princess. "This, everything that has happened to me – it's all your fault." He gestures to himself, moving his hand up and down. "I never used to care until I met you. But you – you," he hisses. "You made me feel again.

"And y'know what lass? I'm mad at you for that. I could have gotten my revenge on the Crocodile, but you got me to forgive him. You got me to risk my life for that lad in the hall. You actually got me to like him. He's like you, y'know," he says, with a slight smile. "Stubborn as hell. He won't give in until he rescues you. I suppose one good turn deserves another and all that.

"So," he says, standing beside the bed. "It would be really helpful if I could wake you up."

He looks down at her. He remembers her slow smile toasting her face, so rare that it was surprising; how she seems not to respond to music, but her foot sometimes taps along to it and occasionally she sways; how she tosses and turns, taking an age to fall asleep unless he tells her a story. Closing his eyes, he gently presses his lips against her, like a butterfly's wings brushing against her.

He feels the familiar rush of light when he kisses her: his stomach loosens; he feels calm like he's just fallen asleep; his heart lifts like it's going over a jump. It doesn't feel like any kind of mystical magic or anything; it feels like the regular kind of magic, the pure kind. Love.

His eyes peer up at her and he begins to pull away.

An arm pulls him back down. Her lips respond this time, and with renewed energy he pours himself into her, letting her drain the storm out of him. She lets him put the pieces back together.

After some time they break away, but Hook rests his forehead against hers. "By Gods lass," he murmurs. "You're not allowed to scare me like that."

"I didn't exactly do this on purpose," says Emma, but she's smiling. "I feel okay. It's not like I've been asleep for – how long-?"

Hook is already shaking his head. "Only hours lass."

Emma looks round the hospital room. "The sleeping curse?" she guesses. She has been around magic long enough to know some spells by heart now.

He nods, studying the colour that has returned and the brightness of her eyes. "This may not be the time, but when we open that door everyone is going to come flooding in. Seems like we need to seize our chance for a private moment. So I need to ask-"

"Why did I choose Neal?"

He has to fight a smile. "Yes."

She sits up with surprising energy. "Why did you let me?"

Their eyes meet and suddenly everything is okay. She's right, after all. Maybe she walked away from him, but he let her. What type of man doesn't fight for the girl that he loves? He once taunted the Crocodile for that exact fault, and here he was exhibiting the same one.

"Emma-"

"I love you too." Her face falters for a moment and she looks away. "I can't believe I said that."

"Because it's me?"

"Because it's me." She eyes him and another smile rises on her face. "But you and I – we have something."

"An understanding?"

It is her turn to stare at him, to look at him as if she wants to crawl into him and never venture anywhere else. "Maybe something more," she whispers.

An awkward silence fills the room; only a beeping from one of the machines causes them to break away from each other's gaze. Hook stands. "I'll get the others-"

"Not yet." Her hand clings into his arm. "Let's just have a minute before the madness begins." When she can tell he's going nowhere, she relaxes back against the pillows. Fingers dancing over his arm, she says, "I knew you would come and see me again. Knew you wouldn't be able to stay away."

Making himself comfortable on the bed next to her, he says, "How did you know I would come back? I didn't know I would."

She gives him another Emma-smile special, one that changes her. She doesn't look like the orphan who has spent most of her life alone; she looks like a girl who's falling, and doesn't care. She explains, "You never said goodbye."

Hours to make. Seconds to comment.

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