Chapter Two: The Nature of the Beast
"My boy!" Gold stumbled forward hurriedly, losing his cane in the process. He threw his arms around Neal, who looked shell-shocked. "Bae, I found you. After all these years… I'm so sorry, Bae. I'm so sorry."
As Gold rambled on and continued clutching at his son, Neal automatically returned his hug. "Dad." Twenty-eight years fell away as Neal closed his eyes and grabbed at Gold's jacket, crumpling the expensive material in his fists. "Papa…"
Emma watched the reunion and thought it was ironic that Gold's long-lost heart was finally mending just as hers was breaking again over the same person. She pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to calm a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
That small movement caught Neal's attention and suddenly the past snapped firmly back into place, shattering the moment. "No!" he shouted, pushing his father away. "Emma!" He ran over to her, leaving Gold on the verge of falling over.
He dragged Emma away from the hood of the car into a bone-crushing embrace, careful to keep his father in his line of sight. "God, Emma." He buried his nose in her hair. "Why are you here with him? Did he hurt you?" He ran his hands over her face and neck as if to make sure she was unharmed. Memories of their poor mute maid, dead now for ages, raced through his mind.
Meanwhile, the whirlwind whipped into frenzy, then exploded outward. Emma jabbed her arms into Neal's chest, shoving him back several steps. "Don't touch me, you son of a bitch! The only one who hurt me was you!" She put a decade's worth of heartache into a right cross that sent Neal reeling back against the gas terminal with enough force to knock loose one of the pumps. It wriggled to their feet like a snake. Emma grabbed Neal by the lapel and hit him again, this time into a garbage can. "I went to jail, and where were you? Where were you?"
At this point, several things happened at once. The garbage can crashed into an SUV one terminal over, causing the woman sitting in the passenger seat to jump out swearing. A gas station employee came running out of the convenience store waving his arms and yelling angrily, followed closely by an equally furious customer, presumably the owner of the newly battle-scarred Range Rover. And Gold's brain finally processed that yes, his son had rejected him, yes, he was being pummeled by Emma Swan, and no, neither of those things was all right with him. His last frayed threads snapped.
If they'd been paying attention, the only indication Neal and Emma would have had of the approaching danger was the purple mist swirling up around Gold, hiding his hunched figure from view. The three nearby humans were afforded no such warning, having instantly frozen in place seconds beforehand. The gas pump stopped writhing on the ground, and a bird launching off the billboard advertising current fuel prices remained suspended with wings outspread.
A booted foot emerged from the purple cloak of magic and stepped firmly onto Gold's cane, snapping it in half. Rumplestiltskin spared the favored accessory not one glance, instead focusing on the blonde harpy beating his son.
In a flash, Emma found herself grasping at air as she was yanked away from Neal by the scruff of her jacket. Her hair was caught up with the fabric in an unyielding grip and her eyes watered from the sudden pain.
"Don't you be touching my boy, Swan!" Rumplestiltskin roared, flinging Emma away as if she weighed no more than a basket of wool. She fell and rolled several time on the rough asphalt before coming to a dead stop in the middle of the station parking lot.
Neal's surprise at not being punched anymore was instantly overshadowed by fear when he realized what had happened. "No!" there was no mistaking the horror in his tone, and even Rumplestiltskin was brought up short in his rage. His boy was scared of him. Again.
"Bae," Rumplestiltskin said in a quieter voice. He crouched down to Neal's level and gently lifted his son by his shoulders to help him stand. "Are you hurt at all?"
"Papa." Neal choked on the word. It seemed so at odds with his New York accent in this world that had never been home. "What have you done?" Calmly, softly, so as not to set off the monster lurking just behind his father's reptilian eyes, Neal pulled away. He walked towards Emma who was lying in the same motionless heap. But she would be all right. She had to be all right. It wasn't possible that he should lose her again so soon, and because of his father of all people. He refused to accept that.
With extreme care, Neal knelt down and turned Emma over. He winced when he saw her multiple scrapes, but was relieved to see her breathing. He gathered her into his arms and rose.
"Son, what the hell are you doing with that woman? Can you not see that she's deranged? She attacked you for no reason! She might be under a geas." Rumplestiltskin stalked forward, hand outstretched and already gathering magical power.
"No!" Neal barked. "She's fine, she's not under any spell. And she's got plenty of reasons for hating me. Trust me, a couple punches are nothing compared to what I owe her." He looked down at her. "I totally screwed up her life… It's a long story."
By now, Rumplestiltskin had begun to put two and two together. He stopped abruptly, hand dropping, power dissipating. Soon, all traces of magic had left him and he was Mr. Gold again. He cocked his head to the side and regarded his son and the vexing woman in his arms. Impossible. Or was it? He reached out and plucked his cane out of thin air, whole and undamaged. He clasped both hands over the top and let it bear his weight. "Son, I have all the time in the world."
But Neal decided that Emma needed a doctor, the sooner the better. Their conversation could wait until she had been seen to. So they bundled her into the backseat of Gold's town car and drove off towards Storybrooke General Hospital. It would be about an hour or so before Gold remembered to release the other people imprisoned at the gas station.
It was an oddly silent ride into town, each man lost in his own thoughts. They had so much to discuss, years of bitterness and sadness to resolve, but for now it was enough that they were simply together again. Gold's hand occasionally left the wheel to touch Neal's knee or stroke his hair, reassuring himself that his son was really there. Neal returned the quiet affection and stared at his father often out of the corner of his eyes.
Gold supposed it had been a long time since his son had seen him as a human. He also did not miss the looks Neal sent into the backseat. He speculated and calculated, spinning out the possibilities like so much golden thread. Could he be Henry's father? What had caused him to abandon Emma? Or had it been the other way around? Did he even know of the boy's existence? And if it was all so, then Henry might very well be the result of true love twice over, making him extremely interesting to Gold to say the least. He'd be integral in the upcoming war against Cora. He could possibly even be the key to getting them all back home to the Enchanted Lands.
Gold said nothing of his thoughts out loud, merely smiled reassuringly at Neal whenever he caught his eye. There would be time enough for all of that later. For now, they'd take things one step at a time.
He soon pulled up to the emergency entrance of the hospital and Neal was out of the car before he had even put it into park. Gold followed his son and held the doors for him as Neal carried Emma inside.
Two nurses immediately converged on them. A gurney was brought, Dr. Whale was sent for, and Emma was rushed off. Neal watched her disappear around a corner and Gold watched Neal.
"Bae," he said as gently as he could, "I think we have time for your story now."
XXXXX
When Emma awoke, she was surprised to see Dr. Whale looming over her, checking a chart by the side of a bed. She bolted upright, snagging her IV tube painfully on the edge of the arm rest. "Ouch! What the hell?" She was confused for a moment as she peered down and saw her hospital gown. Then, she noticed all the bandaged scratches on her hands and arms and remembered. Her eyes widened, "That goddamned Crocodile! I'm going to skin his scaly ass." She dropped her head into her hands dizzily, "Crap, I sound like Hook now… Hook. He should have finished Gold off a long time ago. He's totally useless." She flopped back against the pillow, and turned towards the doctor. "I'll kill Hook, too. Then Gold, again. Maybe Neal… Not you, though, don't worry."
Whale was regarding her with vaguely amused alarm, "Yes, ok, settle down, Sheriff. You took quite a nasty knock to the head. The disorientation is normal, but you need to get some rest and let the fluids and medication do their work. If all goes well, we'll have you out of here by tomorrow morning." He sounded like it couldn't come soon enough.
Emma agreed. "Yeah, I don't think so." She sat up and tugged out her IV needle, ignoring Whale's 'Hey, don't do that!' and slapping his interfering hands away. She rose a bit unsteadily and made her way over to the plastic armchair where her clothes lay neatly folded. She pulled on her jeans and began to untie the lacings of her gown. She called over her shoulder, "So are you going to turn around, or are you looking for my secret tattoo?"
Whale huffed and glanced away, "Sherriff Swan, I really must recommend that you stay here at least another night under observation. We can't be responsible for anything that happens to you if you leave now. I don't think you realize how serious your situation is!"
Emma laughed bitterly and finished zipping up her boots. She grabbed her jacket and threw it on. "Oh, trust me, Whale, I do know. It's seriously messed up, seriously unbelievable. I'm seriously going to kill someone. Does that about cover it?"
Emma yanked her hair out from under her jacket collar only to have it catch on something else. She reached up and felt another butterfly bandage on the back of her neck. Maybe she had been hit harder than she remembered. She sighed. "Look, I need to get out of here. I have a lot to think about. But I appreciate what you did for me, thank you."
Whale turned around and noted her tight features and pale complexion. "Well, there's no need for thanks. We all just did our jobs. But try to take it easy for the next couple days, at the very least. No strenuous activity. No killing anyone for at least forty-eight hours, ok?"
He smiled and Emma figured he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Of course that might just be the schnapps talking, but considering she didn't have a lot of people currently on her side, she'd take it. She shook his hand and walked out of the room.
Her attempt to organize her riotous thoughts was stonewalled by the sight of Neal and Gold sitting side by side in the small reception area. Emma steeled her resolve and temporarily banked her temper.
"Emma!" Neal jumped up from the uncomfortable-looking chair and rushed over to her. Gold got to his feet more slowly and glared at her with hooded eyes.
Neal stopped short of hugging her, which was a smart idea, all things considered. He merely looked at her, taking in each injury sympathetically and sorrowfully. He also noticed that the years had been kind to her, and that she still looked much the same. "Hey," he said awkwardly shifting a little closer, "Are you ok?"
Emma ignored Neal completely and looked over his shoulder at their silent observer, "You and I are not finished, Gold, not by a long shot." He merely nodded, as if this was expected.
She went to step around Neal, and whipped her head up to stare at him when he made a move to grab her shoulder. He drew back.
"Emma, come on, you can't just ignore me. We have to talk," he said.
"You've been ignoring me perfectly fine for ten years, Neal. Or whatever the hell your name is. I can't risk punching you again otherwise your dear old dad might try to throw me through the hospital window, and then things would get ugly. So yeah, we have things to talk about, more than you know. But not now. For now, I'm going to go for a nice long walk to think about whether the town would still let me be Sheriff if I ran over both of you with my patrol car. If you're lucky, I might even calm down a little. Now get out of my way."
Her tone of voice was glacial and Neal flinched as she marched out the door. "That went well... Wait," he looked around the waiting room incredulously, "Did she say Sheriff?!" He miserably sank down into his chair, rubbing his hand over his face, "That's just perfect."
"So you're letting her go." Gold observed.
"What else can I do? She doesn't want to talk to me. I don't blame her, she's pissed. I'll just let her walk some of it off and come see me when she's ready."
"Yes, boy, but there's a lot we didn't have a chance to discuss earlier, you and I. So the real question is, who might she be going to see right now?"
Neal lifted his head, and his eyes were bloodshot. "What do you mean by that?"
XXXXX
It was dark outside, and the cool air was refreshing. But Emma's head was still pounding and her throat was dry. Her multiple cuts ached and she could see lovely bruises beginning to peek out around the bandages. "Great, the town Sheriff looks like a zombie." She felt drained from her encounter with Neal and from Gold's attack. She wondered if maybe she should have stayed in the hospital after all.
No, she had to keep going, keep walking, think of anything and everything except what this whole disaster meant for her relatively peaceful life in Storybrooke. If reconciling with her long-lost fairy tale parents and working to keep her son safe from a psychopathic queen bent from a cursed realm could be defined as relatively peaceful. Whatever. The point was that she needed-
"Hook!" She nearly tripped over her own traitorous feet when she realized she had ended up at the docks, on the pier housing the Jolly Roger no less. And there was the ship's fine captain himself, just about to disappear up the invisible gangplank.
Having heard her exclamation, Hook spun around, dropping the canvas sack he had been carrying. "Lass!" He surreptitiously tried to nudge the sack further away.
Emma would bet dollars to donuts there was something illegal in it. But she shook her head, feeling dizzy again. She was so tired. And she didn't want to care about whatever he was smuggling aboard, or about Neal and his no doubt forthcoming barrage of excuses, or about what a fun new grandpa her son had gained in Rumplestiltskin.
To hell with it all.
She stalked over to Hook, kicked the canvas bag out of the way, and kissed the very startled pirate upwards until they both vanished from sight.
XXXXX
There was nothing gentle in their kiss this time, no playfulness or soft seduction. Emma kissed Hook viciously, all teeth and fire, and he reveled in her aggression. He lifted her into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching at his wide leather collar for balance. He slammed her into the main mast and gouged a long trail from the top of her head to her hips down the wood with his hook. Later, he would consider it a fitting little memento of their encounter. Fisting his hand into her hair, he bared her neck. He dragged his lips under her ear, then down to her collarbone, pausing to lick the scar he had left there only a short while ago.
"Emma," he whispered, and felt her shiver. "What are you doing?"
She bent to run her wicked tongue over Hook's earring and his hand tightened in her hair. "If you don't know that by now, then I'm wasting my time here."
She straightened her legs and made as if to leave, but he pressed her back until she could barely breathe much less move. They stood there panting, and he peered at her through the darkness.
"Oh trust me, lass, I know what we're doing, and I'm all for it. I always have been, you know that. But why now? Is this for another spell?" He dared her to say that it was.
"No," she snapped, "Don't be stupid! This is… I don't know what the hell this is, Hook, ok? It's just angry sex! How about that?" When in doubt, try the truth.
He stared at her, then loosed her hair and ran his hand under her jacket and shirt instead, smoothing over hot skin. She arched her back, and he chuckled. "Good enough for me, love. But remember, it's Killian." He captured her lips in another fierce kiss and she responded instantly.
They fought their way out of their jackets, and soon shirts, belts, and shoes littered the path from the deck to the Captain's cabin.
Kicking the door shut behind him, Hook led Emma towards the bed but froze when lantern light washed over her features.
"What the devil!" he crowded her further under the light, sweeping back her hair until all her injuries were laid bare. He cupped one of her hands in his own and traced his hook over the bandages. He slowly followed the bandages up her arms, then turned her around to look at the back of her neck. She stood quietly and let him.
Though she was eager to continue where they had left off, Emma sensed he wouldn't be satisfied until he catalogued the multiple cuts and scrapes. She didn't want to dwell on it, and so she tried to make light of the situation, "Hey, it's really not as bad as it looks. You should see the other guy!"
"Quiet," he ordered darkly, in a tone of voice that must have frightened a hundred crewmembers in its day. Once he was finished with his examination, he raised his head and she was surprised at the anger in his expression.
"I don't care about the circumstances. Who did this?" Before she could even open her mouth, he continued, "Was it the Crocodile?"
She didn't like the distinct flavor of murder in his words. This was her fight, damn it! So she said, "No, of course not. It was someone else entirely." A half-assed try at best, and it didn't work.
"Liar." He bent to kiss her far more gently this time, but Emma fought him, desperate to get back their earlier edge. She needed an outlet, not a lover.
Hook let her deepen the kiss, then he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "I was going to kill him anyway, you know. But it would have been cold comfort after all these years. Now, I have a reason to truly enjoy the thought of it again."
Emma's eyebrows furrowed and she glared at him. "Killian…" she warned, but he silenced her with a quick kiss.
He bent to skim her jeans over her hips and down her legs slowly, checking for additional injuries. Finding none, he seemed satisfied. He tugged off his own pants with far less care, flinging them away as he arose.
Nearly naked, it was impossible for Emma to ignore her attraction to the man. She had no shields left except those she held internally, and she willed herself to let them go. She was small compared to him, but still she felt strong. This was her choice, without the convenience of a spell this time around. She felt free. And if it turned out to be a mistake, then so be it. It was hers to make.
She unsnapped her bra. "You're not killing Gold, Killian. Not in my town."
He leaned up to extinguish the lantern, and the last thing she saw clearly was his sharp grin.
"We shall see."