hey guys! I've been struck with an immense amount of captain swan feels and the only way I can get them all out is by writing so, here's the result of that! this story can also be found on a03 under the username ElleQuinn and I'll be updating it there first. hope you guys like it, let me know if so :)
Chapter One - The Cough
It all started with a cough.
It kept Emma up at night; Henry's incessant coughing had been going on for three nights in a row, and it took all of Emma's willpower not to take a pillow and chuck it in her sons general direction. They had been bunking together ever since he moved out of Regina's mansion, Emma in the queen-sized bed on the upper level of her and Mary Margaret's apartment and Henry on a pull out couch in the corner (even though she had argued tirelessly with him to take the bed, he wouldn't oblige). Emma had been tossing and turning for what seemed like eternity as Henry hacked up a lung on the other side of the room. She hadn't taken him to the doctor yet, hoping the cough would go away on it's own. He didn't have a fever, so it must have just been a mild cough, but it still caused a great deal of strife. For the first two nights, it was an annoyance that created dark circles under her eyes and a grouchy disposition during the daylight hours. Now, coming onto the third night of sleeplessness, Emma couldn't ignore it any longer. She was in full out parent mode.
She kicked the covers off of her, abandoning all hopes of sleeping. Emma went to Henry's bedside, putting her hand on his forehead. She was surprised and dismayed to feel his skin radiating an immense amount of heat. He now had a fever, on top of everything.
"Henry?" Emma whispered, shaking his shoulder. Henry made no sign of waking up, but grunted, let out a loud cough and rolled over onto his stomach. Emma frowned. Poor kid. He had been through so much recently, and Emma still felt extremely bad about the whole Neal situation. Henry still treated her a little bit differently since then, and Emma finally understood what it was like to be in Regina's shoes. She had been naive to think she would be the triumphant hero in Henry's eyes forever. She knew the time would come when he realized not everyone is perfect, not even his mother, the savior. She just wished it could've lasted longer.
Emma left the room as quietly as she could, padding down the stairs to retrieve some cold meds from one of the cabinets in the kitchen. She could hear David snoring from the next room, and she wondered how her mother could stand it. Sure, they were the epitome of true love and all that jazz, but that didn't mean that snoring suddenly sounded like an angel's symphony. Sure enough, as Emma grabbed the meds out of the cabinet, Mary Margaret emerged from behind the curtain, looking just as tired as Emma felt.
"Henry's still coughing, then?" Mary Margaret whispered, slipping by Emma to grab a pot to make tea. Emma nodded as she laid the meds out on the counter, trying to decide which one would be best to give Henry.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard it," Emma said, looking at her mother. Mary Margaret smiled wryly.
"Kind of hard to hear anything over your father these days," she said, laughing slightly. Emma envied her mother's easygoing attitude. She wished she had the ability to stay up all night and be perfectly fine with it the next day. Mary Margaret sighed, pouring water into the teapot. "He only snores when he's stressed. There has been a lot going on, for all of us."
Ever since the return of magic in Storybrooke, people were still getting used to living in the town with the knowledge of their previous lives, and it was more difficult for some. There were those like Mary Margaret who were perfectly content living in Maine, and had little to no intention of returning back to the Enchanted Forest. Then there were those, such as David, who wanted nothing more than to resume living the lives they had lived before coming to Storybrooke. It was hard to keep up with everyone's wishes. Archie had more business in the past few months than he had in his 28 years in Storybrooke.
Emma drummed her fingers on the counter, pondering. "Maybe we should tell them about the beanstalk," Emma said, "tell them there's a way of returning to their homes, if that's what they want to do. It'd calm everyone down, don't you think?"
Mary Margaret shook her head rapidly. "You can't do that! Could you imagine what would happen if people knew there was a way of going back? We'd have chaos on our hands, and that's the last thing we need, especially after Cora-"
She stopped, unable to continue her sentence. A darkness passed over her face at the sound of Cora's name. Emma reached out to rub her mother's arm. The murder of Cora was still a fresh wound for Mary Margaret, and while she wasn't in the laying-in-bed-til-I-die phase, she was still extremely sensitive. Emma knew taking Cora's life had been necessary, even if Mary Margaret didn't. They were all better off without her, with the exception of Regina.
Mary Margaret continued making tea, a little more sober than she had been before. "That beanstalk is both a weapon and a shield for us right now. We need to be smart about how we use it."
"Besides, I don't even know if Tiny has gotten any beans from it yet," Emma added. She had no idea how magic beanstalks were supposed to work.
Mary Margaret nodded. "We don't want it to fall into the wrong hands."
"Or hand," Emma said, smirking at the pun. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but looked a little uncomfortable.
"Do you have any idea where he is?"
"Hook? No. Last we saw him, he was trying to kill Gold in New York," Emma said, thinking back that fateful day. Neal had been a part of their lives for nearly a month now, and Emma was still unsure how she felt about it. While she was glad that Henry had his father, she knew she would never be able to fully forgive him for what he had done to her. That year in jail was the worst of her life, and the fact that Neal had left her there to serve it for him still made her quite angry.
Emma didn't like thinking back to the day that they had found Neal, not only because of Henry accusing her of being a liar, but also because a part of her felt bad for leaving Hook in the closet. She knew she couldn't trust the pirate, and she didn't want to. But still, Hook wasn't from here. He had sailed to New York on the damn Jolly Roger, for Christ's sake. New York was a scary place for any outsider, but she couldn't imagine waking up there alone and surrounded by an alien world. She knew Hook could take care of himself, and she wouldn't be surprised if he ended back in Storybrooke any day now; she would admit to walking down to the docks at night to see the infamous ship sitting at the dock, only now with it's brazen captain standing on it with that coy look in his blue eyes and a snarky little smirk on his lips and a quick witted quip on the tip of his tongue. But it had been a month, and she had yet to see him. She wondered where he was, if he was still in New York or if he gave into his pirate nature and decided to explore the new world. Part of her even wondered if he had found a way back to the other world, but she knew that was impossible.
Emma knew Hook would never give up his vengeance. She was confident that as long as Gold was in Storybrooke, Hook would find his way back. It was only a matter of time.
The teapot started blaring it's high-pitched cry. Mary Margaret took it off the stove quickly and poured it into two mugs. Emma took the mug from her, holding it in her hands as she let it cool. Mary Margaret took a sip right away, and she sat down in a chair at the counter, her tired eyes drooping.
"All I want is peace," Mary Margaret said quietly, giving Emma a grimace. "Why is that so hard?"
"Well, this is Storybrooke," Emma contended, sitting down next to her, hearing David's snores still echoing in the apartment. "Peace isn't something that comes easily, I guess."
Mary Margaret shook her head in wonder. "All of this fighting, the battles and the grudges. Where does it lead anyone? Just death, and suffering. If only people knew that bad intentions lead to bad decisions, which in turn create bad consequences," she murmured, swirling her tea around with a small spoon.
Emma tilted her head. "You're talking about Regina, aren't you?"
"Of course," Mary Margaret replied. "She'll never let me have peace. Not after what I've done to her."
"Mary Margaret," Emma cut in, placing her hand over her mothers on the counter. "Regina has done awful things, some for no reason at all. Think of all the lives she's ruined. She deserves everything she gets. You committing one necessary heinous act doesn't erase all the ones that she's done without cause. Don't let yourself think she's blameless."
"Oh I know she isn't, Emma," Mary Margaret whispered, giving a humorless laugh. "But I'm Snow White. I'm supposed to help people, not kill them."
"You're not supposed to do anything," Emma said strongly. "You're not just some character in a book. You are who you are, and you're the best person I've ever known."
At that, Mary Margaret's eyes swelled with tears, and she leaned forward, resting her head on Emma's shoulder. Emma held her tight, hating that Mary Margaret was full of so much self-disgust. Emma would give anything to be like her mother. She meant every world she said. Mary Margaret was an amazing human being. She didn't want Cora or Regina to ever let anyone, especially Mary Margaret, doubt that.
Emma placed her mug on the counter, accidentally knocking over a box of meds she had lined up. The sound of it smacking against the counter reminded Emma of why she came down here in the first place. She reached over to grab it, but she stopped. She realized that since she had been downstairs, she hadn't heard Henry cough. Not even once.
She stood up abruptly, a feeling of dread passing over her. She didn't know why; if he wasn't coughing, that meant he was better, right? Somehow, it seemed too good to be true.
"Emma?" Mary Margaret was looking at her curiously. Emma turned to her.
"I'll be right back," Emma said, grabbing the box and going upstairs to her room. She found it incredibly odd that in the time she had been downstairs, Henry had remained quiet. It wasn't an exaggeration that Henry had been coughing non-stop. For the past three days, he hadn't gone more than two minutes without coughing. Emma knew, she had counted during the more aggravating moments in the middle of the night. She had to have been down with Mary Margaret for fifteen minutes, and not once did Henry cough.
She strode over to Henry's bed; he was still on his stomach. Only this time, he wasn't coughing. She placed a hand on his forehead, but immediately withdrew it with a gasp when her fingers touched his skin. He was no longer hot. His skin was as cold as thick layer of ice.
"Henry," Emma said urgently, trying to shake him awake. Henry didn't move.
"Henry!" Emma shouted, rolling him over and feeling his pulse. It was faint and slow. The breaths leaving Henry's lips were hollow and Emma noticed his lips were starting to turn blue, almost as if he was freezing to death. Horror shot through Emma as she tried to wake her son up. "No. Henry, please, please wake up," she pleaded, slapping his face gently, trying to stir him. She even pinched him, trying to get even the smallest of flickers of life. Henry did nothing.
What could be wrong with him? Emma realized in an flash that his sickness was something more than a cough. She couldn't help but shake him in vain, hoping he'd just wake up and be okay. "Henry! Henry! Please, Henry, oh my God..."
Footsteps were coming up the stairs, and Mary Margaret appeared at the door. "Emma, why are you shouting? What's going on?"
"It's Henry!" Emma cried, panicked. "He won't wake up!"
Mary Margaret came to the other side of the bed, feeling his face. Her eyes widened. "Oh no...no. It can't be."
"What!?" Emma shouted at her, her eyes whipping back and forth from her comatose son to her shocked mother. "What is it?"
Mary Margaret didn't respond. She backed away from the bed, horror etched on her every feature as she called for her husband. Emma felt dizzy, grasping onto Henry's hand tightly. She had a feeling Mary Margaret knew what was wrong with Henry, and whatever it was, was nothing good. A few moments later, David Nolan stormed into the room in his pajamas fully alert, almost as if he hadn't been in a deep sleep just minutes before.
"Mary Margaret. Emma, is everything okay?"
"No," Emma whispered, turning back to Henry. "He won't wake up, but he was coughing and I went to get him medicine and then he stopped coughing and he was hot and now he's cold and won't wake up and I-" She was babbling, unable to think clearly as she watched her son lay there helplessly. Her first thought was that Regina would kill her if something happened to Henry, but her next thought was that Emma would probably end her own life if something happened to Henry that could've been avoided if she had just taken him to the doctor when he first got his cough.
David neared the bed, touching Henry's face. "Henry," he murmured, cupping his grandson's face. "Are you there?"
Henry didn't react. He simply laid there, and Emma swore his lips looked even bluer than they had before.
"What's wrong with him?" Emma demanded, looking at her parents. Mary Margaret stared hard at her husband, who in turn let out a long breath.
"How long has Henry been coughing?" he asked, not looking at Emma.
"Th-three days," Emma stammered, her heart beating fast. "Why?"
David lowered his head. His hand dropped from Henry's face. Mary Margaret face was twisted in a deep sadness and Emma felt as if her heart was going to explode in her chest at any second.
"It looks to me that Henry has contracted the Blackness."
"What the hell is the Blackness?" Emma asked Dr. Whale as she followed him to Henry's bed, Mary Margaret and David towing behind them. It was 4 AM, and Henry was one of the only patients in the ER. Emma hated this damn hospital. She hated that she had to see Henry once again on his deathbed, and she couldn't stop herself from trembling with fear every time one of the machines hooked up to Henry beeped. She felt like she was going to lose him at any moment and nobody would tell her what the fuck was wrong with her son. Dr. Whale was reading Henry's vitals, but he shrugged.
"I have no idea. I would have to assume it's a magical affliction, so I wouldn't have had it in my land," Dr. Whale replied, but he looked grim. "All I can say is that Henry looks like a patient with intense hypothermia."
"Well then treat him as if he has hypothermia," Emma told him, gripping the sides of Henry's bed tightly. Dr. Whale shook his head.
"It's not that simple," Dr. Whale argued. "Hypothermia is caused by an extremely cold environment. If someone had hypothermia, all we would have to do is warm them up. Henry's body temperature is below 95 degrees, but it's not because he's been cold. We can try adding certain fluids to him to see if that helps, but if this is caused by magic, there's only so much I can do."
"Don't tell me that," Emma snapped, glaring at the doctor. "You've brought people back from the dead. You're telling me you can't warm a kid up a couple of degrees without magic?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Swan," Dr. Whale said, resigned. "There's nothing I can do."
Emma was ready to berate him, but Mary Margaret put her hand on her arm. "Emma, he's right. There's no cure for this. I've seen many people who had this back in the Enchanted Forest, and there was nothing that could be done. That's why it's been called the Blackness; there's no going seeing the light again once it occurs."
"So you're just going to give up," Emma bit back, not believing her mother's words, "you're just going to let him die?"
"Of course not, Emma," David cut in, putting his arm around her. "You know your mother and I will fight this with you til the end. We iwill/i find a cure, I promise you."
Emma couldn't stop the tears that had been threatening to fall from her eyes since she had discovered Henry was sick. She cried into David's chest, succumbing to the despair. "But what if there really isn't anything we can do?" Emma muttered, feeling her mother's hands rubbing her back comfortingly.
"We'll try the best we can," Mary Margaret promised. "Things are different here. Maybe Regina will find a way to reverse the sickness."
"I wouldn't count on that," came Regina's voice from behind Mary Margaret. Her eyes were fierce, her face livid. She was still one of Henry's emergency contacts, so she must have gotten word that Henry was in the hospital. Regina rushed to the other side of Henry's bed, brushing her fingers in his hair, her eyes heavy with sadness. For a second, Emma empathized with her; they were Henry's mothers after all. She knew Regina was the only one who could feel a semblance of the pain the Emma felt. When Regina backed away, Emma could tell she was holding back from strangling them all with magic right then and there. Regina scowled at Emma, her fists clenched. "I hope you realize what you've done, Miss Swan. The Blackness is curable."
"It is?" Emma asked, relief washing through her. "How?"
"By not letting the coughing exceed two days." Regina said venomously. She looked more angry than Emma had ever seen her, and that was saying a lot. Emma's fears were confirmed; if she had only gone to the doctor two days ago, she could have prevented this. Regina walked around the bed, nearing Emma as she drove the dagger in deeper. "The Blackness can be halted if it is stopped in it's tracks before the coughing gets out of hand. He's been coughing for days now, correct?"
"Yes," Emma whispered.
Regina's lip curled. "You're useless. You know nothing of our land. You know nothing of being a mother."
"That's enough Regina," David snapped, tightening his arm around Emma. But what if she was right? Emma hadn't raised Henry. She hadn't been there to change diapers and feed him. She hadn't been there when he was sick. She didn't think it would be imperative to take him to the doctor straight away, but was that common knowledge for a parent? Emma felt like the floor was giving away at her feet. Maybe Regina was right. Maybe she was a terrible mother.
"Regina," Mary Margaret said softly. Regina looked at her slowly, pure hatred evident in her dark eyes. Mary Margaret flinched, but continued. "Is there anything you can do to help him?"
"Don't you think I already would have if I could?" Regina sniped. But she turned back to her son, her eyes stone cold. "It's gone too far now. There's no hope of saving him." With that awful truth out in the open, Emma broke down, gripping David tightly as she sobbed into his chest. He held on to her, but suddenly he was wrenched aside. Emma's head shot up, and Regina filled her vision. In a second, Emma was flung back into the wall, and she was surprised her spine didn't snap in two upon impact.
"Regina!" Mary Margaret cried, but Regina flicked her finger and she too was thrown to the side with her husband.
"You killed my son!" Regina screamed at Emma. Vines erupted from the wall of the hospital, squeezing around Emma until she could no longer breathe. Emma choked, clawing at the vines desperately.
"Regina, stop this," Dr. Whale shouted, trying to grab her but she held him back, vines sprouting from the ground and wrapping around his feet to keep him in place.
Emma's vision started to darken. The dizziness she had felt before intensified, and she could barely keep her head up. She tried to talk, but no sound would come out. This was the end. She had killed Henry, and now Regina would take her life. She was oddly okay with it. She didn't want to live in a world without her son, and dying by Regina's hand seemed to be the just way to go. She closed her eyes, feeling the world slip away.
Suddenly, it stopped. Emma fell to the ground, her palms hitting the floor as she coughed, trying to get air back in her body. Tears were still slipping down her face, but she brushed them away, struggling to look up and see what had happened. Mr. Gold and Neal stood at the doorway, Mr. Gold's hand raised towards Regina, who was now strewn on the floor, unconscious. He lowered his hand, looking wearily at Emma.
"I can't leave you three alone without Regina attempting to end your lives, can I?" He mused, raising an eyebrow. David and Mary Margaret got to their feet, rushing over to see if Emma was okay. She waved them away, helping herself as she looked to Mr. Gold.
"Is she alright?" Emma asked, gesturing towards the Evil Queen.
"Just knocked out. She'll be up on her royal feet soon enough," Mr. Gold answered. He strode into the room, Neal right behind him. Neal was staring at the bed in shock. He looked at Emma, fear and questions in his eyes. Emma knew Neal was just as new at this whole parenting thing as she was. She bit her lip, feeling guilt in every fiber of her being. Henry was not just hers. He belonged to Neal, to her parents, to Mr. Gold. He had family all around. She was supposed to be his savior and yet she was the reason he laid sick and dying in that bed. She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. She was the reason he would die.
Emma shook her head. What was she doing? There was no time to feel self-pity. She wouldn't let herself get defeated by a stupid illness. She would fight it, just like her parents said they would. She would find a cure. She would save her son. There was no other option.
"He has the Blackness," Emma told Neal and Mr. Gold in a flat tone. "I've been told there's no cure, but I refuse to believe that. All magic can be undone, right?"
"Not this," Neal said slowly, shaking his head. He was shaking as well. In the little time he had known Henry, he had already grown to love him more than anything. Emma could see that. She swallowed.
"Gold. There has to be something you can do."
Mr. Gold shook his head. "I wish there was, dearie. I wish there was." Something was off about his tone, but Emma ignored it. She couldn't believe them. Were they so willing to let Henry die? She wasn't giving up. There had to be a way to stop this. Henry couldn't die. He just couldn't.
As soon as she thought this, the door to the ER opened and in came the Blue Fairy. "I came as soon as I heard," the Blue Fairy said, reaching Henry's bedside. She felt Henry's forehead, and Emma watched her retract her hand quickly from the cold. The Blue Fairy sighed. "It's regrettable this had to happen to such a brave young boy."
Emma shook her head. They were all so set on Henry dying. Didn't they know she was going to let that happen? "There has to be a cure," Emma muttered, staring at her son. "Please."
The Blue Fairy turned, meeting Emma's eyes with reservation. "There is."
Mr. Gold scoffed. "I think if that were the case, I would know about it."
The fairy frowned at him. "You may be the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, but you are not omniscient. There are things even you do not know. Things the fairies know a great deal about."
"I am the most powerful magician in all the lands," Mr. Gold shot back. "If it has to do with magic, I know about it. And I know there is not a cure for this disease."
"Your arrogance will be your undoing," she said simply. "You are wrong."
Mr. Gold opened his mouth to retort, but Emma had enough. "Whatever, we get it Gold, you're the most powerful of them all. Now will someone please tell me how the hell to cure my son?"
The Blue Fairy turned her eyes to Emma, wary. "It is a difficult to task; I can't think of anything harder to accomplish. The chances of you surviving this journey are very slim. That's why we never disclosed the cure to the disease; far too many lives would perish in a vain attempt to collect the ingredients needed for the cure."
"But you didn't think it could save even more lives if everyone knew what the cure was?" Mary Margaret cut in, looking devastated. "I knew of so many who were victims to this sickness. And there was a way to cure it all along." She looked ill herself from the thought. David put his arms around her, but he looked to the Blue Fairy.
"Could you just tell us how to get the ingredients? We can decide whether or not it's worth it for ourselves, thanks. And when it comes to Henry's life," David cast Emma a look, "anything is worth it."
The Blue Fairy sighed, but nodded. She looked over at Regina, still passed out on the floor, and left Henry's bedside, nearing the rest of them. Emma could see the resignation in her face. She wondered what could possibly be so hard about attaining a few ingredients for a potion. She did believe the Blue Fairy however, she did not care how hard it was. If it was possible, and it would save Henry, she would do it. There was no doubt in that.
"There is a place," the Blue Fairy began, looking at Emma intently, "where all of the ingredients needed for the antidote can be found. You will need moonpetal, sacred water, and firemouth. All of these combined will create a potion that can cure Henry. They're all very hard to collect, but what's harder is managing your time."
"How do you mean?"
The Blue Fairy took a breath. "Where the ingredients are, time doesn't exist. It's almost impossible to know how much time you spend once you're there. The days don't work the same there as they do here. Time doesn't move on. Everything, and everyone, stays the same. Almost like Storybrooke was before the curse was broken."
"Why is that a problem?"
"Henry doesn't have much time," the Blue Fairy deadpanned. "A week at the most."
Emma closed her eyes. A week to find the hardest ingredients ever in a land where time is almost untrackable? No wonder the Blue Fairy was reluctant in revealing this information. It was downright impossible. But Emma wasn't giving up. "Okay. Where do we have to go?" Emma asked, dreading the response. She had heard of a place where time didn't exist, and she knew what the fairy was going to say.
"Neverland."
So Neverland did exist. Emma remembered Hook speaking about the Lost Boys on their way up the beanstalk, though part of her didn't actually believe he was talking about the Lost Boys. She was still adjusting to the whole magic/storybook thing. It was one thing for Snow White to exist, and Prince Charming and the dwarves. But Neverland? Even Emma remembered how dangerous the description of Neverland was in the stories. She remembered the Indians, the mermaids, the crocodile...Emma looked at Gold. She pondered if he truly was the only crocodile she had to keep her eyes on.
Emma let out a long breath. "Alright. Count me in."
"No," David interjected immediately, grabbing Emma's wrist. "I've heard of how dangerous Neverland is. You're not going alone."
"I think if a bunch of orphan boys can wander there alone safely, I can manage," Emma replied, resolved. "Besides, I'm not letting anyone else I love get hurt."
"You're not going alone," David repeated. "We're going with you."
"Someone has to stay with Henry," Emma told him firmly.
"Mary Margaret will," David proposed, but Mary Margaret instantly shook her head.
"If you think for one second I'm letting you go to Neverland without me to protect you both..." Mary Margaret trailed, fuming.
"Henry needs family here with him," David told her patiently. "Someone has to stay."
"What about Neal?" Mary Margaret said, looking at him expectantly. "You and your father and Regina can stay with Henry, and the three of us can go to Neverland."
"I'm going," Neal said resolutely. "No freakin' way I'm not."
"No," Emma said, looking at Neal. "We can't both go, not if it's this risky."
"Listen, I know Neverland," Neal admitted, scratching the back of his head. Gold looked at him questionably, but Neal ignored him. "I've spent a long time there. I know it like the back of my hand. If there's anyone you need to guide you through there, it's me."
"Neal," Emma pleaded, her eyes filling with tears again. "I will not make Henry an orphan. If it's really as dangerous as the Blue Fairy says it is, it's possible something could happen to us. I can't risk Henry losing both his parents, I just can't. He needs at least one of us to stay, and you know it can't be me."
Neal looked like he wanted to argue, but thankfully, he didn't. He understood where Emma was coming from more than anyone else in the room. They both grew up without their parents. They both knew how hard it was to be a kid with no one to look up to. Neal sighed. "Fine," he muttered, "I'll stay with the kid. But you're gonna have a hard time navigating through Neverland without someone who knows it."
"There is someone who could help us," Mary Margaret said, frowning. She met Emma's eyes. She knew who her mother was talking about. Emma wanted to say no. She wanted to find a way that could ensure Neal could go with them and still return in one piece, because there was nobody she trusted less to help them keep Henry alive than the one her mother was about to name.
Mary Margaret grimaced. "We need to find Hook."
Emma sat on the dock of Storybrooke, her legs swaying beneath and her feet hovering above the surface of the ocean. It was cold, her skin was numb and she was shivering with a combination of being freezing and being scared. As soon as her mother said they would need Captain Hook to go on this journey with them, her stomach sank in dread.
Hook had been missing for over a month now. The chances of him returning in the next week were slim to none, and even if he did, it wouldn't be good enough. They needed as much time as they could get. Hook had to be here now if they had any chance of saving Henry. And even if he were here now, what was to say he'd even agree to help them? Emma had knocked him out the last time she'd seen him. She had handcuffed him to the Giant's castle. He didn't trust her, and she most certainly didn't trust him.
She didn't want Hook's help, anyway. Sure, was he the only one who knew Neverland just as well if not better than Neal claimed to? Probably. But Emma knew Hook was a sunshine patriot; he only helped those he thought would succeed. That's what he had said before they climbed the beanstalk. He was only trying to find a way to Storybrooke, and he cared not who took him there. He'd fight along side Emma, Mary Margaret, Mulan and Aurora just as easily as he would Cora. She didn't want someone on this quest who's allegiance could change at any moment. Whoever was on the winning side. Staring at the face of the most difficult journey imaginable, it was hard to see how they could even triumph at all. They weren't even sure they had the magic beans yet; they needed two, one to get to Neverland and one to return to Storybrooke. Mary Margaret and David were finding Tiny now to figure out if they could get the beans, but the odds weren't stacked in their favor.
But it was all for Henry. Emma had to save him. If this meant enlisting Hook's help on a journey to Neverland, she'd do it. She knew Hook was an asset in this mission. He most likely knew Neverland better than anyone. He had a ship. He had ties to Neverland that nobody really knew of, but ties nonetheless. He was their best hope in saving Henry, and that's all that mattered to her.
"Come on, Hook," Emma murmured, looking out towards the horizon as the sun started to rise. "I need you."
"I always knew you'd warm up to me eventually," came a toying, amused voice from behind her.
Emma stood up immediately, turning around. Hook was sitting on the edge of the Jolly Roger, smirking down at her. His expression was light, but Emma could see a tightness in his eyes; she knew he hadn't forgotten their previous encounter. His long black coat billowed beneath him, and Emma could see the rising sun reflecting on his translucent skin. He was like a poisonous flower, beautiful to look at but dangerous if you got too close. Emma swallowed, raising her chin to him, trying to look as calm as possible, when in fact her heart was racing with nerves. He had to agree to help her, otherwise it could be the end for Henry.
Emma stepped forward, watching him curiously. "How long have you been here?"
Hook shrugged, raising his hook and observing it, twisting it as if it was under a scrutinous inspection. "A week, give or take. Nobody thought to check the ship, did they? Except for you," Hook's smirk became more pronounced as he returned his eyes to her. "Coming down here every night to see if I was here? I'm flattered, darling, beyond belief. If only you hadn't interrupted my slaughter of the crocodile, we might have been able to come to an agreement." He licked his lips, winking at her. Emma rolled her eyes.
"In your dreams," Emma informed him, then added, "and not even then."
"I always admired your crassness," Hook said, but his smirk disappeared. "However bold you may be, it seems you need something from me. And I might not be too willing to help."
"My son is dying," Emma told him, the desperation not hidden well in her voice. "The only way he can be cured is by ingredients found in Neverland, so-"
"So you need me to lead the way on your noble expedition because I'm from Neverland," Hook finished. Emma frowned, but nodded, feeling ashamed and helpless. Hook sighed, hopping down from the edge and walking deliberately slow towards the stairs down to the dock. "It's not often I can deny a beautiful damsel in distress my assistance," Hook said, sauntering down the steps, his ice blue eyes examining her closely. He moved closer to her, and it took everything Emma's self-control not to take a cautious step back. Hook stopped a few inches in front of her, his head bobbing down close to hers. "Do you know what's like waking up in a dark, small room all alone with a bump on the head, only to find that my ship has been stolen by the very people who put me there? I'm not going to lie, sweetheart, the door to that cupboard underwent the wrath of my hook that really should have been meant for you."
Emma could just see Hook waking up, angry and startled, beating the door with his hook in a rage. Hook raised his hook to her face, gently gliding the tip of it down her cheek. She stayed still, praying the blade wouldn't pierce her skin. Hook was looking at her intensely, all signs of previous amusement swept from his face. "It's rather bold, even for you, to ask me for such help after the animosity that's occurred between us."
"Please, Hook," Emma breathed, her eyes wide as his hook grazed down her throat. "You're the only one who can help me. I need you."
"I heard as much," Hook replied softly, leaning even closer to her than before. She could feel his breath on her cheek as his lips slid across her face, finding the shell of her ear. Emma wanted to push him into the water and run, but his hand ran up her arm, holding her in place as his lips moved against her ear. "How much do you need me, love?" he whispered.
"Stop," Emma muttered, her hands raising to his chest to shove him away. His grip tightened on her, his hook wrapping around her wrist. She was completely pinned to him, her hands uselessly squished between their bodies. She could feel him against her, his breath tickling the side of her neck. She let out a shaky breath, trying to untangle herself. "Hook."
"Swan," he said back, his fingers curling around her arm. "Tell me."
Emma knew it was the only way to get him to help. She had to whatever he said to ensure he helped her. She no longer cared about looking desperate. If Henry died, so would she.
"I need you like my life depends on it."
She could feel Hook smile into her neck, and her stomach plunged even further downward at the sensation, though she didn't know why. Hook withdrew his head from hers, unhooking himself from her and taking a step back. "When you put it that way, darling, how could I begin to refuse you."
Emma felt disgusted, but she kept her mouth shut. She just needed him as a ticket to Neverland, nothing more. If he could keep spewing all the lascivious remarks he wanted to as long as he agreed to help her.
"So you'll do it then, you'll take us to Neverland?" Emma confirmed, eyeing him.
Hook nodded. "I tire of this pathetic world anyway. Returning to Neverland would be a nice change of scenery. And since the crocodile is dead, I see no reason why I should stay here."
Emma scrunched her eyebrows together, confused. "Gold didn't die though, he's here in Storybrooke-"
Once she said it, she realized the mistake she made. Anger flooded Hook's face and he looked at sharply. "Pardon me?"
"Uh...well, I mean, he's-"
For the second time that night, the silver hook found it's way around her wrist, only this time it was raised over her head as she was jerked forward. She let out a cry as Hook whipped her around, pushing her into the side of the ship. "The hook was poisoned. I did it myself. There was no chance he could have survived that wound, I made sure of it."
"Mary Margaret found a candle that could take a life to preserve another," Emma said quickly, "she switched Cora's for Gold's."
"Cora's dead?" Hook said incredulously, though he didn't seem too sad.
"Yes."
Hook took a step back, and then, in a fit of fury, he reared his hook back and plunged it into the wood of the ship, right beside Emma's head. She gasped, boxed in once again by Hook's body. Hook swore, his good fist clenched in anger by his side as he looked over towards the town. Emma realized Hook hadn't returned to Storybrooke to kill Gold; he had thought Gold to be dead. He must have come back to get his ship and sail away. So then why wait a week to sail out? What was he waiting for?
Hook looked back to Emma, furious. "Deal's off. My priority is to kill Rumplestiltskin, and I will not do anything until that has been accomplished."
Emma felt a wave of panic come over her. "No, Hook, please. You're the only one who can take us to Neverland and help us, your vengeance can wait, can't it?"
Hook gave her a wild look. "And risk you lot locking me up or offing me as soon as we return? Not a chance, love."
With that, Hook broke away from her, heading towards the town. Emma couldn't let him leave. She needed him to help and she needed him now. "Hook," Emma shouted, running after him, "Hook, wait!"
"That worked once before, lass, but it won't work again," Hook called back over his shoulder. Emma caught up to him and grabbed his arm, twisting him around. She took his lapel in her hands gripping it tightly. He was taken aback, and Emma used that to her advantage.
"Look. It can wait. I promise nothing will happen to you if you help us," Emma paused, and then added, "I'll even help you with your plan to kill Gold."
Hook eyed her suspiciously, though he made no move to break from her grasp. "You would help me kill the crocodile. You."
"Yes," she promised, desperate. Of course she wouldn't, but she just needed him to believe that.
Hook surveyed her for a long moment. Emma held her breath. After a while, he shook his head, pulling away from her.
"I wish I could trust you, Swan. But alas, I do not. Go seek help elsewhere."
Without another word, Killian Jones started walking back towards the town.
Emma didn't follow him this time. She knew it was no use. Hook had every right not to trust her. She would eventually betray him, they both knew that. It was hopeless. Henry would die. Before Emma knew it, she was on the floor of the dock, crying mercilessly into her palms. She hated feeling so helpless. She needed to save her son, and there was nothing in this world that she could do, literally. She cried until her sides hurt and her face grew sore.
The sun was rising in the sky. Emma knew that every second was another one wasted. They'd have to go to Neverland without Hook, which meant the chances of them returning with the cure were even less likely than it was before. And that was even if they had the beans to get there. Emma hugged herself, tears still sliding down her cheeks as she tried to think of something, anything that could get Hook to trust her.
Then, it hit her.