Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would already be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I, once again, swiped another of Hook's lines from a movie – this time from The Princess and the Frog. Consider it a courtesy of the nights I spend watching Disney movies when I get sick.


Chapter Two

A Temporary Escape and A Surprising Agreement

"I believe in kindness… also in mischief."


Emma pulled the hood of her cloak a little higher over her head and pushed a telltale strand of blonde hair out of her face; the last thing she wanted was for someone to recognize her. She was currently crouched beside the eastern palace wall, squeezed between a bush and an oak tree and completely hidden from view; it was one of her favorite hiding places but she wasn't hiding today. No, today she was escaping.

Just for a little while, though.

Her morning had started off normally enough. After being awakened for breakfast with her family, she had been ushered off to her morning studies. Also growing up as a princess, her mother had been exposed to all of the best things in life, including the best instructors; because of this, Emma considered her one of the most knowledgeable people in the kingdom. While her father was charismatic, ruling with the genial good nature he learned from growing up on just a humble farm, her mother was wise and compassionate, winning over the people in the kingdom by inspiration and her refinement alone. This was how the two of them managed to spur the people into action and win back the kingdom that was rightfully theirs in the war against the Evil Queen.

Because of her past, her mother considered it of the utmost importance that Emma be given the best instruction. History, mathematics, geography, politics, and culture studies were just a few of the standard lessons she'd go through on a daily basis, although her mother insisted there also be time set aside for the arts – painting and drawing, crafts like sewing or knitting, and music. For the most part, Emma enjoyed her studies and would often drag out the lessons with question upon question for more detail; however, this morning she'd rushed through, denying even the need for a quick break. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she could leave.

Today she was going to the marketplace.

Alone.

Crouched by the wall, Emma shivered with the excitement. She was absolutely not allowed beyond the palace walls without an escort of some sort, but in the midnight hours from a couple nights past, she'd decided she would venture out on her own. She checked her cloak one more time; everyone in the market would recognize her if they saw her face, hence her coverings.

Emma watched the guards traipse past the small gate – she'd chosen one of the smaller, side gates to escape through as it was much more discreet – and turn towards the western wall before she took off at a sprint; with their backs to her, they never even noticed her slip by their post. Emma continued to sprint down the roads, not slowing down until she was comfortably far from the palace. Glancing back at the sparkling towers, she grinned happily and spun in a circle. Freedom at last.

The sound of laughter, drums, and hundreds of voices reached her ears long before she ever caught sight of the market, and when she finally reached it, she was pleased at all the commotion; she loved that the marketplace was always a flurry of movement and sound. Row upon row of tents stretched out before her, vendors attempting to coax buyers to their stands to buy various items. Emma wandered through, pausing here and there to inspect this trinket that would 'cause her true love to find her' or that totem that would 'ward off even the most evil spirit.' She made sure to keep her face hidden, though.

She'd been gone for almost four hours when a colorful tent caught her eye as she turned from the portly gentleman that was currently trying to sell her fish. It wasn't a large tent, but it made up for its lack of size with color; there was every color of the rainbow, and many that were in between, in the items displayed. Emma worked her way through the throng of people until she stood at the tent. Scarves. That's what the vendor was selling, what was so colorful. She reached out, brushing her fingers against the delicate fabric of a lilac colored scarf; it was so beautiful. But she hadn't brought along any money.

"Hello, dear. Would you like to take a closer look?" The seller was an elderly woman with a kind face that reminded her of her grandmother, the one on her father's side; she'd never met her grandparents on her mother's side, them having died before she was born. The lady motioned to the scarf Emma had been admiring. "I'm sure it would look lovely on you."

"Oh, I'd love to but I don't have any money. Thank you, though. They're very pretty." Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Money wasn't the only thing she'd forgotten to bring; she'd also left the palace without remembering to bring along some food.

"Sounds like you're hungry." The lady was still smiling at her. "There's an apple stand right down there a ways. Go down there and tell him Granny sent you; he'll be sure to give you an apple." Emma smiled in appreciation.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." She turned and wound her way past several more tents before she spotted the apple stand. They looked delicious.

"Excuse me, sir?" The man turned, his protruding belly almost hitting her. "I'm terribly hungry and the lady that sells scarves down there – Granny – well, she told me to come down here and tell you that she sent me. She said you'd give me an apple."

"Oh, she told you that, huh?" The man was looking down at her, a sneer on his lips. "Well, too bad, kid. I can't afford to feed charity cases."

Charity cases? The nerve. She had half a mind to inform him that she was no charity case, but he'd already turned back around to face his real, willing-to-pay customers. Oh well, it was her own fault, really. Coming out here without food or money had been dumb; she'd make sure to be better prepared next time. But still… her eyes wandered back to the apples. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was now well past noon, probably closer to dinnertime. The man was still talking to his other customers, his back to her; he would probably never even realize it if… because, really, it was only one apple… and she could always come back another day to repay him. Her hand twitched, itching to reach for the red fruit in front of her.

But stealing was wrong.

But she was so hungry.

But she couldn't just take something that wasn't hers…

Could she?

Her stomach growled again, the aching hollow feeling making her feel light-headed and slightly sick, and that was the last push she needed. She reached out, snatching the apple closest to her before easing away, trying to slide back into the crowd.

"Hey, that girl stole an apple!"

Emma's eyes shot up in panic; a young woman with a baby on her hip was pointing straight at her and the man was already coming for her, an angry look in his eyes. She pushed against the wall of people behind her, desperate to get away, but he was too quick. In a flash, he'd grabbed her and pulled her forward, away from the crowd and her only chance of escape.

"I told you I ain't no charity case, kid – now, give me that!" He pulled the apple from her hands, tossing it back onto the cart. With his merchandise safely returned, he focused his full attention on Emma. "You think you can steal from Bartok and get away with it? Think you're pretty smart, little thief?" He strengthened his grip on her arm and then pulled her into the air. The man was crushing her wrist, dangling her several feet above the ground; she felt like her shoulder would dislocate at any second, the weight of her body too much for the small socket to hold. Her free hand clawed at the hand wrapped around her wrist like a vice while she attempted a kick towards his body, but it was in vain; her legs were far too short to reach him. He shook her roughly.

"Do you know what we do to thieves around here, girl? We take them in chains to the King and Queen for a trial, and when they're found guilty they're dumped into the prison pit to wait out the rest of their lives alone. That is, unless the King and Queen decide to execute them instead of letting them take up valuable prison room."

Of course, Emma knew that what he was saying was ridiculous; her parents would never treat anyone so atrociously no matter what the crime. Wisely, though, she decided to hold her tongue instead of attempting to refute his statement.

"So what'll it be, girl? Shall I drag you up to the palace in chains? Let them make an example out of you? Answer me, thief!" He shook her roughly again, except this time her hood fell back exposing her face and telling blonde hair. Immediately, the crowd gasped and the man released her wrist in surprise; she fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Emma could hear the whispers race through the crowd like wildfire.

The princess…

It's Princess Emma…

What's she doing here?

And dressed like that?

Where on earth is her escort?

Her exciting little escapade had come to a crashing end.

"Milady… Princess. Please forgive me!" The man – Bartok – crouched on his knees in front of her. "If I'd known it was you…"

"Sir, stand back, if you will." It was a couple of the palace guards; someone in the crowd must have gone to fetch them when she was exposed. "Princess, are you ok?" The guard reached out, gently taking her wrist in his hand and inspecting it for any breaks.

"I… I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it, Princess. Now, we must get you back to the palace; the King and Queen have been very worried about you."

Great… her parents already knew she'd run off; that meant these guards had already been out looking for her. Emma let the guard pull her to her feet and lead her away to a carriage. As she stepped up into the carriage, she glanced behind her. The crowd hadn't moved an inch, they stood there as if they were frozen, staring at her; Bartok was still kneeling on the ground. She sighed, disappointed, and the driver closed the door.

The ride back to the palace was long, the driver slowly maneuvering the busy streets, but it wasn't nearly long enough. Emma dreaded the conversation she knew would take place when she arrived home. And true enough, as the carriage pulled in front of the palace's main gates, her parents were standing there waiting for her. She waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out, her stomach flopping around nervously as she made her way up the steps.

"Mother." The greeting came out as a tiny whisper. "Father." It was hard to meet their eyes; it was obvious as to how angry and upset they were.

"Let's take this inside, shall we?" Her father's softly spoken words did nothing to ease her nervousness. Emma had learned at a very young age that her father was somewhat quick to anger but that a majority of the time it was fleeting, burning out as quickly as it started; he would react, possibly yell, and then return to his normal self. It was when he remained calm, in times such as this, that it really worried her. She followed her parents wordlessly through the doors, up the grand staircase, and down the hallways to her father's study, doing her best to ignore the pitying stares of the house staff along the way. She felt claustrophobic, ensnared, as her father closed the door.

"We are very disappointed in you, Emma! I don't know what possessed you to leave the palace unattended. You're only ten, Emma – ten! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to wander off alone? What could've happened to you?" Her mother was yelling at her and it was the first time Emma had ever experienced that; her mother was always calm, never yelled. Guess there's a first time for everything. "You are a princess. There are plenty of people in this kingdom who would gladly snatch up a young princess for their own gain."

"Why would anyone want me?" Emma was confused. "I haven't done anything."

"It's not what you have or haven't done – it's simply who you are." It was her father that spoke now, her mom having turned away seemingly unable to even look at her. His voice was calmer. "You are an important part of this kingdom, of this family. We love you so much, sweetheart, and we would do anything, absolutely anything, for you… and everyone in this kingdom knows it. If there were someone out there that wished to do us harm, wished to get to us, all they'd have to do is go through you."

Emma couldn't help but notice the shudder that swept through her mother.

"But why would someone want to hurt or get to you? I've already heard all the stories about how you and Mom finally caught the Evil Queen and banished her from the kingdom… without her around, there's no one else to hurt you. I thought everyone was happy now."

"They are, dear. We just worry about you so much." Her mother had cut back in now. "We want you to be careful."

"I'll be careful from now on, Mom, I promise. I'm sorry…" Emma was sorry, to an extent; sorry she got caught.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's ok." Her father put his arm over her mother's shoulders. "I understand why you wanted to go out on your own; you're growing up so fast."

"Do you think…" Emma hesitated, unsure whether she should even ask. "Do you think I could ever go back to the market?"

"Of course, baby. We'll take you back down there tomorrow, if you want." Her mother was smiling at her now.

"I meant… I meant alone. You know, by myself." The smile was gone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. She shouldn't have even asked.

"Absolutely not."

"But Mom…"

"Not without an escort."

"But Mom, that's not…"

"Enough, Emma!" More yelling. Emma scowled and refused to meet her mother's eyes, stubbornly staring at the floor instead. "You will stay within the castle walls unless accompanied by an escort. End of story."

Silence filled the room; it was a harsh silence that seemed to ring in Emma's ears after all of the yelling. She struggled to hold back her tears. They weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of anger, but even still, she refused to cry in front of anyone – even her parents – refused to even sniffle. When she knew her voice wouldn't crack and betray her, she spoke.

"May I be excused now?"

Her mother sighed and it was a sad sound; she reached forward and pulled Emma into her arms but it was a one-sided embrace. Emma didn't wrap her arms around her mother's body, didn't return the hug. She kept her arms glued to her sides, hands clenched into fists. Her mother squeezed just a little before releasing her.

"Yes, you're excused. Would you like some dinner before you go upstairs?"

"No, thank you."

And with that, Emma exited her father's study.

Hours later, Emma lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her hands tucked behind her head; she hadn't moved from the position since she got back from the talk with her parents. When she was just a small child, her parents had asked the Blue Fairy to cast a spell on her ceiling so that it replicated the sky outside; by doing so, they ensured that she would always be able to see outside even when she wasn't allowed to actually be outside. Now, she stared up at the inky blackness of her ceiling. The sliver of the waning moon hung in one of the far corners of the room, its soft light allowing her to make out the hundreds of thousands of stars that stretched across the sky.

Her eyes drifted from star to star, picking out the constellations she knew so well – Orion, the hunter; Ursa Major, the great bear; Pegasus, the flying horse; Perseus, the hero; Aquila, the eagle; Leo, the lion; Sagittarius, the archer; Cygnus, the swan. Her mother had taught her all of the constellations, would lie out on the grass of the palace lawn and point them out to her night after night until she'd learned them all and where to find them by heart. She was probably only four or five years old at the time.

It was one of her fondest memories of her mother.

"And see those stars right there?" Her mother was leaning back against an old tree stump, Emma tucked between her legs and leaning back against her body. Her mother's finger moved from light to light, outlining the shape in the heavens. "That's Cygnus, the swan."

"Hey!" She'd shouted out with the happiness only a child's innocence can have. "My name is Swan!"

Her mother had then gathered her into a hug. "That's right, my beautiful little swan – you are so precious and so loved that the gods named the stars after you."

"They did?"

"Yes, sweetheart, they did."

"Wow…"

Childlike innocence, indeed. Too bad it doesn't last. At the tender age of only ten years old, Emma already felt like a cynic.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Emma was out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown, and making her way silently down the hall to her parent's bedroom. Once she arrived there, she stopped; she had no clue why she'd even come down here. But then she heard it – their muffled voices through the door. It was so late… why were they even still awake? Quietly, she eased up to the wood and pressed her ear against it, trying to make out what her parents were saying.

"You know the plan, Snow. We have to stick to it."

"It's too risky…"

"Riskier than the alternative? I doubt it."

"We can't tell her."

"Well, we can't just let her grow up oblivious, either. Unless she knows the seriousness of the situation, she'll keep pushing the boundaries." Her father paused. "And we'll keep having incidents like this evening."

"I did what I had to…"

"Snow, you don't think maybe you were a little too harsh? She doesn't know, doesn't understand the danger yet. If we just tell her…"

"How could she even begin to accept what's going on?" It went quiet, but Emma couldn't tell if they'd stopped talking or just lowered their voices. Then she heard her mother again. "I can't lose her, Charming. She means the world to me and I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe, even if it means she'll hate me for it."

Emma retreated from the door and padded silently down the hallway back to her room. Flopping down on her bed, she knew she would be awake for most of the night; her head just wouldn't stop going over everything that happened that day. She once again stared at the ceiling, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. She had no idea what her parents had been talking about, some plan and whatever danger was out there, but she did know one thing – that one day, she'd leave this place. If not, she was absolutely sure she'd go crazy. She'd do anything to get out; she'd run away, if that's what it took.

Emma bolted upright in her bed.

That's it – she'd run away! She'd run away and, far from her overbearing parents and any danger they thought was waiting for her, she'd finally be able to experience the world, live her own dreams. But it would have to be somewhere far away, somewhere no one would be able to recognize her. Anywhere even remotely close to the kingdom would be too risky; people would know her, tip off her parents as to her location. Yes, somewhere really far away…

She lay down, then, more content than she'd been in a while. The idea burned through her brain and she began to plan how she could make it work and that gave her hope; hope that she wouldn't be subject to all this hoity-toity royal nonsense, to the boring and dull future her parents had envisioned for her. Yes, she'd run away. Then she could watch the stars in the real sky, pointing them out from a flower-filled meadow or a windy beach or a snow-covered mountainside. Emma finally drifted off to sleep, a small smile on her face.


"Em, are you about done with the rags? I need to wipe these tables off."

"Yeah, here you go."

The Salty Dog Inn was a hole-in-the-wall sort of business; it didn't look very appealing from the outside, but inside it was warm, welcoming, and homey. Upon entering the front door, guests would come into a narrow room, a small lobby of sorts with a desk against the right wall where they could pay for a room. When they were younger, Ruby and Emma used to manage that part of the inn; however, as they got older, Ruby's father realized it would be more monetarily beneficial for the two of them to run the pub instead of August, and so they'd swapped responsibilities. After getting a room key from August, the guests had the choice to either go up the stairs to their left that led to the rooms that spread over the second and third floor or go through the wide doorway directly in front of them to the pub. The rooms upstairs were nothing special, but then, most of the people that came to Tortuga weren't exactly expecting refined accommodations to start with. The pub was a different story. It was a decent-sized room that spread over the remaining ground floor. Rustic beams hung on the ceiling, the floors were well-worn from years of traffic, long oak tables and benches spread out in rows throughout the room, and all this led to the polished wooden bar that ran along the entire back wall of the room.

Emma loved everything about it.

She tossed the rag across the bar to Ruby's waiting hand. It was getting close to opening time so they were doing some last-minute cleaning to get ready for the evening rush. Emma idly arranged the rows of mugs on the counter before stooping to pick up the club that had fallen out of its cubby; her thoughts drifted back to the last night she'd had to use it. They never had figured out what happened that night in Tortuga. The most they could deduce was that the attack was revenge-based; most likely bad blood between the crews of two different ships. Everyone else just happened to get caught in the crossfire. But such was the way in Tortuga. Always exciting, rarely dull.

"Ladies." A man greeted Emma as he walked through the door and up to the bar. "You look ravishing tonight, Emma." He was attractive, his wavy brown hair falling over his forehead; he was also someone she could never sleep with. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but give him a hard time.

"It's a little early to start drinking, isn't it? And alone, no less."

"Alas, that's the life of a lone wolf – alone more often than not. However, feel free to accompany me and spare me my loneliness any time." He leaned forward over the bar towards her, eyebrows raised cheekily. Ruby chose that moment to enter from the kitchen.

"Graham, stop harassing my friend or I'll have to hurt you."

"Ruby, darling!" His eyes shot to the brunette immediately. Emma knew that no matter how many times he threw cheesy pickup lines her way, he always had his eyes set on Ruby; she was the prize. "I've missed you, gorgeous – tell me you've missed me too." Her friend cocked an eyebrow at him.

"In your dreams, buddy."

"You wound me." Not to be brushed off so easily, Graham followed her to the end of the bar, smiling at her charmingly. "Ruby, when are you going to go on a date with me?"

"You're ridiculous. You know very well how many dates we've gone on." Ruby emphasized the word dates and it was ironic because they'd never really been on a date; not an official one, at least. Their relationship was more of the casual hookup type. Most people would call it a one-night stand but their trysts had spanned over the course of the past few years.

Graham had come to Tortuga almost four years ago in an attempt to escape the law.

"I'm a huntsman, you see. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it's not always animals. Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I'm on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out."

From the first evening he'd shown up at the inn, he'd had eyes for Ruby; he'd spent the whole night flirting shamelessly with her until she finally relented, going back to his place for the night. From that point, they'd been… well, lovers was the only word that could really describe it. Despite their obvious mutual attraction, though, neither one of them had ever made any move to be exclusive. This meant their time together consisted of mainly sex and little else and that each of them was free to sleep with whoever else they wished. Emma knew for a fact that both Ruby and Graham abided by those rules; she could remember plenty of instances where Ruby had left early to sleep with a guest and plenty of nights where Graham had stumbled out of the bar with a random woman. After a couple years, Graham had moved to a small port a little south of Tortuga but still came into town occasionally for business; when he was in town Emma didn't see much of Ruby.

"Yes, but it's been entirely too long…" He lowered his voice and Emma saw him seize Ruby's hand out of the corner of her eye. He began to whisper words to Ruby soothingly to which the brunette smiled in return, and Emma decided to move away from the bar to give them some privacy. They were adorable together, obviously infatuated, yet so stubborn. Emma was sure that Graham would willingly stay with only Ruby, but her friend had always been the one to set a limit on their relationship; she'd grown up as a barmaid in Tortuga – she didn't trust any man that walked through the door with her heart.

Emma could empathize with her on that. Tortuga was no place to fall in love.

The bar began to fill up as the evening wore on; men filed in, tired from a hard day's work on the docks or ships and eager for a drink to help them relax. It was a quiet evening though, as far as work was concerned. The majority of the men scattered around the bar were regulars and, therefore, didn't hassle Emma or Ruby too much. It was getting late, close to midnight, when she heard it.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, love."

Emma's hands stilled on the bottles of liquor she'd been handling; she hadn't heard his voice in nearly four months. After their initial meeting that first night, he'd only stayed in town until the next day before sailing out for god knows where, but he had stopped in before he'd left to tell her goodbye.

"Hello, beautiful."

Wiping her hands on a towel, Emma turned to face the familiar voice. "What was the point of me telling you my name if you're not going to use it?"

"It's for future reference, love; insurance, if you will. Might come in handy someday." Hook flashed a grin her way and she was absolutely sure that's how he managed to get all the women into his bed. He was too handsome, and the problem was that he knew it.

"You're here awfully early, Hook; it's only three. We won't be open for a few more hours."

"I know. I decided to stop by on the chance that I could get some one-on-one time with you. You know… alone. Just the two of us." He looked at her suggestively, playing with her.

Emma turned to the bar, busying herself with straightening items and cleaning; she was doing her best not to look at him, trying to play at disinterest. "Yeah, I know what one-on-one means and you're not getting any."

"You sure, love? You don't know what you're missing."

"That good, huh?"

"Never had a complaint."

"For some reason I doubt that." Actually, no she didn't. Emma was pretty sure Hook knew his way around a bed and a woman's body all too well.

Hook, however, was not bothered. "You never know until you try it."

"And what makes you think you have anything I want to try?"

"You know you're curious." Did he ever stop smirking? "Resistance is a dangerous game, love, and most likely futile."

"Hardly. You'll sail out of here and forget all about this little tavern wench before too long." In the end, that's what always happened.

"You're no common tavern wench. And anyways, how could I forget you?"

Looking at him from an objective, single, female point of view... "Because you'll have so many other women throwing themselves at you, eager to 'try what you have to offer,' as you put it."

"I won't forget you, love, especially when you have so many things that I want to try."

"God, do you ever stop?" Unable to hold it back any longer, the laugh she'd been holding back finally burst out.

"I actually came down here to tell you that I'm leaving." Her eyes shot to his, laugh dying in her throat. His face was completely serious, all traces of their earlier, playful banter gone.

"You're sailing out? So soon?" Emma kicked herself. She didn't care if he was leaving already – really, she didn't. Really.

"Aye. Bit of bad news came my way this morning, something I need to take care of." He reached forward, playing with the tips of her hair like he had the night before. "We'll be pushing off within the hour."

Emma didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything.

"Last night was a little more hectic than I imagined it would be… kind of disrupted the evening I had planned for us."

She still didn't know what to say.

"I would've liked to have spent more time in your delightful company."

And she still didn't know what to say.

"Especially since you're so eloquent." He smirked, teasing her silence, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shut up." Excellent comeback, Emma – what was she, five? He was still playing with her hair. "Be careful out there; it looks like it could storm any moment."

"The sea hasn't bested me yet, not to say she hasn't tried."

She grinned back at him. "You're probably just too stubborn."

"That I am; I never give up on a challenge." Emma wasn't sure if they were just talking about the sea anymore. "You be careful, too, love; keep that bow handy."

Hook backed away then, dropping his hand before walking for the exit. He paused, one hand on the door, and said something over his shoulder with his signature grin before walking out. The words seemed to float across the room to her in slow motion.

"Think about me, Miss Swan."

As if she could forget him.

"Bloody hell – look what the storm blew in." Emma said it with a playful smirk on her face as she turned and crossed her arms, her eyes meeting Hook's blue ones. "I tell you, they'll let anyone in here nowadays."

"Ah, I missed you too, love."

He looked good. She'd forgotten how good.

"Emma, can you get me a…" Ruby trailed off when she noticed just who exactly was across the bar. Emma's eyes never left Hook's but she knew her friend well enough to know she was probably grinning from ear to ear; Ruby had pestered her insistently over the past four months about Hook, always finding ways to casually bring him up in their conversations.

"Sorry, lass, but Emma's done for the evening."

What?

"She has other business to attend to."

Emma's shocked silence was broken. "Is that so? And pray tell, what business will I be attending?"

"You have a date with me." She opened her mouth to shut him down right there but he interjected before she could even speak. "Relax, love – it'll just be you and me and a couple drinks. We can even stay here at the bar, if you'd like." The implication that their date could have occurred somewhere else was not lost on her. Ugh… pirates. He stood there, grinning at her casually; most likely, he was hoping for her to say they could go somewhere more private. She motioned to the tables, instead.

"Let's have a seat." Translation – I'm not going to sleep with you.

Hook led the way to an empty table and Emma settled down across from him. It was a surprisingly nice conversation, apart from the occasional innuendo thrown her way, and Emma found herself enjoying the evening. She asked how he'd been; he asked if she'd had any more reasons to shoot her bow. She asked where he'd been sailing the past few months; he asked whether she ever traveled outside Tortuga. She asked what made him want to live on the seas; he asked if she'd thought about him at all. It was a tame exchange for him, she was sure.

"I've been curious, love – where did you learn to shoot a bow? Not exactly a common weapon for a pirate."

"My parents weren't pirates and I didn't grow up in Tortuga; I didn't come here until I was twelve. My parents tried to teach me ways to defend myself when I was younger but archery was the only thing that stuck."

He nodded, thoughtful. "Yes, I'd say you have a knack for it. So how does a young lass end up in Tortuga, of all places, as a barmaid? I'm sensing there are a lot of things that happened between point A and point B."

"I'd prefer not to talk about it."

And cue awkward silence.

Hook stared at her, the light-hearted look sliding off his face at her serious tone. There was something about him, Emma could feel it; something deeper, covered up by all of his bravado and flirting. A dark look flitted across his face and she knew he understood her reluctance to talk. Everyone had their demons and he obviously was haunted by those of his own past. Some things were just better left unsaid. Hook reached for his tankard and tipped it towards her slightly in a mock salute before taking a drink.

"A bow is only helpful from a distance; you really should learn the art of swordplay. Couldn't hurt, especially around these parts." It was an attempt to bring the conversation back to easier territory; Emma appreciated the effort. Without warning, Hook slammed his tankard onto the table. "I've got it – I'll teach you."

That was definitely not what she'd been expecting him to say.

"Umm, no… you really don't have to…"

"Nonsense – you're a delicate lass in need of an education. What kind of man would I be to allow you to remain so exposed to the dangers of the world without proper protection?"

She frowned at his absurd statements. "I'm hardly delicate."

"Maybe so – but you are in desperate need of an instructor; you're just lucky that you get one that's easy to look at."

"Don't flatter yourself, Hook." His smug grin assured her that he could see right through her snub. "Why are you even offering to teach me? In case you haven't noticed, I live in Tortuga. Seventy-five percent of the men that live here know swordplay; the other twenty-five percent are just too old to remember or too young to have learned it yet." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "What's in it for you?"

"Being able to enjoy the view would be a start. And we can't forget the physical contact…"

"Good lord, would you be like this the whole time?"

"I'm only a man, love; I find it very hard to not notice your various… charms."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her better judgment. She'd grown up working in a bar frequented by pirates and rogues; these types of come-ons shouldn't make her react the way she was. The difference, she realized, was that most of the men that hit on her like Hook was didn't look like Hook did. She couldn't deny that he really was nice to look at, found it hard not to notice his 'charms.' The lack of a response from her confirmed it for him; she could see the look in his eyes – he knew he had her.

"So, shall we discuss the terms of payment?"

What?

The sudden turn in the conversation made her pause before she answered him, incredulous. "But you offered to teach me!"

"I'm a pirate, love – I don't do anything for free." Of course not.

"Then it's your lucky day because I really don't think I'm in need of any instruct…"

"A kiss."

Emma stared at Hook, not even caring that he'd cut her off; she was searching, searching for that gleam that was always in his eyes during their bantering but she came up short. He was dead serious.

"That's my price. One kiss to be claimed at a date and time of my choosing."

"That's awfully forward of you, Hook."

Shoulders shrugging upwards, he ignored her statement. "You never know when the ability to wield a blade might come in handy." Emma was distinctly reminded of her father trying to convince her mother to allow her to learn how to protect herself with similar words. "Like I said, a long-distance kill is preferable, but you can't always depend on that. You need to know how to defend yourself if things get up close and personal."

Tortuga was a dangerous town. It was far outside the influences of the King and Queen, making it difficult to govern and control; this meant very few royal soldiers ever came through to check up on its activities. It was one of the reasons Emma had chosen this place to settle. Hook wasn't an idiot – Emma knew that he was well aware of the dangers often presented in port towns; the brawl from his prior visit was proof of that. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn't been around…

"Just one kiss?"

"Just one." He confirmed with a sly smile, the glint returning to his eyes. "Unless you beg for more."

"You wish…"

"The thought has crossed my mind on more than occasion."

Emma glared at him, eyes narrowed. She didn't have to learn from him; hell, she didn't have to learn swordplay in general. But if something were to happen, if she was in close quarters with an attacker… well, there was no way her bow would do her any good unless she were to beat it over their head in which case it would probably break before doing her foe any real damage. But still…

"I could always get someone else; it doesn't have to be you."

Hook smiled and it was mostly genuine. Mostly.

"But you don't want it to be someone else." Voice low, he was calling her bluff. "Come on, Swan. I promise I don't bite. I won't even touch you – unless you ask me to, that is."

"Oh, so now you're a gentleman?"

"I'm always a gentleman."

"You're a pirate."

"That too."


Who's excited for the new OUAT episode tonight?

Just an FYI – the beginning flashbacks will jump around a bit. In chapter one, Emma was twelve; here she was ten. I'll always put some kind of reference in there to help you figure out where exactly it fits in the timeline of everything.

Also, these first few chapters will be a little slower. I need some time to set up the characters and some backstories – and maybe throw in a few tidbits that you won't even know are important until later – before I let things take off. Right now it looks like things will heat up around chapter four.

Thanks to everyone for the awesome reactions to the first chapter!