Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis

A/N: I wanted to get this chapter out as quickly as possible and as a result things may be less-than-stellar. I'll go over things tomorrow and clean bits up. Thank you so very much for your reviews/favourites/follows, they mean a great deal. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next episode of Once!

No matter how bad things seemed, they could always be worse. Emma reflected on this as she drained a truly awful cup of coffee and threw it aside into the trash. She wondered if serving bad coffee was a misguided act of kindness from the hospital; here, take your mind off your injured/dying/dead friend/family/loved one for a few moments with the worst thing you've ever tasted. You're welcome.

Coffee from a hospital vending machine was never going to win any awards, though it was a testament to Emma's need for distraction that she was already onto her fourth cup. Mary Margaret's shift was over in a few minutes and then it would be Emma's turn to watch over the stranger in case he woke up. Four hour shifts had been the agreement but now Emma dreaded such a long time in such a quiet, empty place. Despite years spent alone, her thoughts had never made for good company.

Heeled footsteps echoed along the corridor in what seemed to be the only sound in the whole hospital. Emma stood up as Mary Margaret approached, looking as exhausted as Emma felt.

"Hey," she greeted her mother. "Any change?"

"None." Mary Margaret stifled a yawn. "The stranger's still out cold."

"You're not that far behind him." A quick glance at the clock told Emma it was approaching three a.m. "Go home, get some sleep."

Mary Margaret frowned. There was still ten minutes until the end of her shift and Emma knew the Princess would want to complete them.

"But what about you?"

Emma shrugged. "What about me? I slept while you kept watch and I've had coffee."

Mary Margaret nodded slowly and then, with a slight laugh, said, "I could use some coffee."

"Not this coffee. Do yourself a favour and stop off at Granny's later if you still need a fix."

After a brief hug, Mary Margaret made to leave. Emma stopped her with a light touch on the shoulder.

"Did you check in on Hook?"

"He was asleep. Or pretending to be, I don't know." Mary Margaret frowned and then shook her head. "I don't like that he's here, Emma."

"I'm more worried about Cora," Emma replied with a grimace. "Have you heard from David?"

"Yes." Mary Margaret understood her child's worry and smiled. "Henry's fine, don't worry. He's fast asleep."

"Good. I don't want to bring him into all of this but then I don't want to let him out of my sight for too long." Emma tried for a smile. "Do they have a nursery here or something? Could I just drop him off in a playpen for a few hours?"

Mary Margaret didn't laugh. She saw through Emma's bravado and into the worry that warped her daughter's stomach. She laid a comforting hand on Emma's arm and gave her best trust me, I'm your mother look.

"We won't let anything happen to him."

Emma was grateful for the promise but not naïve enough to know that it was so easily fulfilled.

"I'm going to ask Gold if there's any protective magic he can do."

Mary Margaret's alarm was obvious before she even opened her mouth.

"Oh, Emma-"

"It could be our only chance," Emma insisted. "Cora was toying with us the last time we saw her and we still nearly got our asses handed to us. If she decides to actually fight, we don't stand a chance."

This was difficult to argue against, though Mary Margaret still tried.

"But…Rumplestiltskin? You don't want to make anymore deals with him."

"If it saves Henry, yes I do."

Mary Margaret knew that look of determination. She had seen it reflected in the mirror and in the eyes of her husband and knew that Emma would not be moved.

"We'll talk about it later," she said, conceding for now. "David will be here at seven to take over your shift. If the stranger wakes up -"

"I'll call," Emma promised, tapping the cell phone in her pocket. "Get some rest."

Mary Margaret held her daughter in a tight hug before bidding her goodbye.

Emma listened to her footsteps fading away and sighed. Despite her assurances to Mary Margaret, she had hardly slept. She had a hundred questions that doubtless had a hundred answers she would not like. Things were changing too quickly and Emma couldn't keep pace.

But, things could be worse. She paid for another coffee from the machine and set off to check on the stranger.

If Hook had looked bad, this stranger looked worse. Though he didn't have as many outward lacerations as the pirate captain (no doubt because he had managed to avoid Rumplestiltskin's wrath) he was surrounded by wires and machines that beeped his health periodically. The man looked so small next to the machinery, like a child sleeping amongst robots.

Emma could only peer through the window of his room; she didn't want to go inside in case she tripped over anything. The machines would let her know if something was wrong.

She took her place in the hard plastic chair placed outside the door and lost herself in musings. She had faced ogres and witches and dragons and emerged without a scratch. This man had lost control for a brief second and it might very well cost him his life. For all the residents of Storybrooke talked of destiny, Emma wondered what made her more deserving of survival than any of those who had fallen around her.

But best not to go down that path. Survivor's guilt was deadly and she couldn't afford to indulge in it right now. She went back to the all-consuming fear she felt for Henry now that Regina and Cora were reunited.

An hour later, Emma had worked up the courage to get another cup of coffee. The automatic corridor lights flickered on as she passed under them, shining everything into a stark existence. She would glance into a room every so often, only for curtains to impede her view. Not once did she see a nurse and she wasn't sure if she should commend the stealthy staff or be worried that they apparently did not exist.

On her way back from the coffee machine, hot cup in hand, Emma took a different route and passed Hook's room. She did her usual check but had to pause when she realised she could see directly into the room. The curtains that should be drawn across were hanging at either side of the window.

It seemed security was not high on the priority list, Emma noted in irritation. If Gold or Cora came looking for Hook, they wouldn't even have to expend the trouble of going room to room. Why hadn't Mary Margaret closed the curtains when she had checked in on him? It didn't really matter, Emma supposed, but it meant that she had to take the task upon herself. Without so much as a question of her motives, she moved forward.

The door opened with a soft click that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the otherwise silent morning. With the coffee in her hand, Emma would have to drag one curtain across at a time. She reached over, glad that she had the light from the corridor outside to help her see.

"Sneaking into my room in the early hours? Careful, love, a man might get ideas."

Emma nearly yanked the curtains down from their hangings in her shock. She held back a curse; she should have checked to see if Hook was awake. Had she known he was, she would have walked right on by. Fist still clenched around the thin material, she steadied her heartbeat before turning around. Instead of lying flat, Hook's bed was elevated into a reclining position. From the outside light, Emma could just about make out his features. She cleared her throat.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"And the ideas continue to form." When Emma turned back to close the curtains, Hook spoke again. His voice was only just stronger than it had been during their last meeting. "You didn't wake me. I couldn't sleep."

Between the light from the corridor and the awkward angle of his bed, Emma wasn't surprised. Still, she was not about to offer to adjust the bed to a more comfortable position; even if she wanted to, she would never hear the end of the string of suggestive comments about other comfortable positions.

"I'll tell Doctor Whale to up your meds. You'll be asleep for days."

Emma couldn't pretend that she didn't slightly relish the thought.

"I'm used to sleeping in a cabin on the sea," Hook continued, as though Emma hadn't spoken at all. "A hospital room is too…stationary for my liking."

Emma was sceptical, not least of Hook's newfound desire to be civil.

"You need rocking motions to help you sleep?"

Even in the dimness, Emma knew that Hook had quirked his lips upwards. She sighed.

"Rocking motions of the ship, Hook. The ship."

Hook made a soft, amused noise and Emma's patience waned. It was either too late in the night or too early in the day to deal with this. She drew the curtains closed, shutting out most of the light from the corridor in the process, and edged her way over to the exit.

"Oh, not going to stay for a chat?"

Hook's mock-disappointment only hastened Emma's trip to the door.

"Go to sleep."

"Not even if we chatted about Cora?"

Emma's hand paused on the door handle. "You told me you didn't know where she is."

"And I don't. But between heart-stealing and swordfights, we had the opportunity to discuss motivations. Now, I'm a man of simple desires. I wanted to take my revenge against the Crocodile and I have, for now. But Cora…"

Emma closed her eyes briefly and prayed for strength. It was likely that Hook didn't have any useful knowledge, but she couldn't take the chance of ignoring him just in case he did know something. She took her hand away from the door and pressed the light switch. When the room burst into sudden brightness, Emma was prepared.

"Fine," she said, straining not to blink as her eyes adjusted. "You want to talk? Talk."

Hook was less prepared.

"Bloody hell, love," he complained. "I'm in a delicate state. Give me some warning next time."

"Talk," Emma repeated firmly.

Hook's eyes narrowed slightly in thoughtfulness. Emma understood - and dreaded - that look. It meant that he knew he had the upper hand in their interaction now; he was the one with the knowledge, powerful despite his broken bones and captivity.

"Come to think of it," Hook said slowly while Emma braced herself, "I could use a drink."

His eyes strayed to the cup in Emma's hand and lifted up to meet her own gaze. The hint was as subtle as an anvil but it did its job.

"This? You wouldn't like…" Emma stopped herself and shrugged. Dreadful coffee would serve Hook right. She walked over to the bed and held out the cardboard cup so that it nudged the fingers on his hand. "Alright. Go ahead."

Hook made no move to reach for it. If anything, he moved his hand away before nodding to the handcuffs.

"I'm a little tied down at the moment, love," he said with a regretful smile that there wasn't a chance in hell he actually meant. "You'll have to help."

"I'm not taking the cuffs off," Emma said, taking a step back and regarding him with a bemused expression. Had he really expected that to work?

"Well then, we'll just have to think of another way."

Emma was fairly certain from his low, insinuating voice that Hook has already thought of this other way. Sure enough, a moment later he tipped his head back and parted his lips slightly, all the while maintaining a steady eye contact.

Emma blinked.

"You're kidding."

Hook's smile told her he was completely serious. Emma scowled.

"You think I'm just here to play games? I have people who actually need my help. I need to talk to Belle and the stranger-"

"Really?" Hook interrupted, a hint of victory gleaming in his eyes. "Because I overheard your mother and father speaking in the corridor before and it seems that the stranger is still unconscious and Belle's as clueless as a newborn lamb. I'm not suggesting that you already knew that-"

"Oh, I already knew," Emma assured him, bitter at her defeat. "I just wanted the excuse to leave."

Hook smiled again. "The drink, darling."

Emma was so very glad that the hospital's coffee was almost unpalatable. She angled the cup, brought it to Hook's lips upon his request, and tried to resist drowning him. Hook's smug look quickly turned to disgust as the drink trickled down his throat. Emma, satisfied, took the cup away.

"Why would you punish yourself by drinking that?" he asked, still frowning at the taste.

"The punishment was having to pay for it. Tell me what you know about Cora."

Hook's grin held an edge to it. He enjoyed playing games, Emma knew, and was reluctant to return to business. When it became clear that Emma was in no joking mood, Hook dropped his mischief in favour of a more boring conversation.

"She wants to be reunited with her daughter," he said, his flat tone an indication of his taste for the topic. "Regina would be more…accepting…of her mother's affection if she had lost everything else, and Cora knew it."

Emma ignored the guilt that jabbed at her as she remembered Regina's desperation at being blamed for a crime she did not commit.

"Regina has a penchant for ripping out hearts," Hook continued. "And if she's anything like her mother, she will keep them in some sort of vault. You find the vault, doubtless you will find Regina with her tail between her legs."

Emma waited for a moment longer until it became clear that Hook had nothing more to say.

"That's it?" she asked, forgetting to keep her voice down in her annoyance. "Regina probably has a vault somewhere?"

"A vault of hearts and magic," Hook said, his own voice firm. It was rare that he offered help, and rarer still that this help was met with something other than gratitude. "Use your head, darling. Regina and Cora need a base from which to enact the plan they're probably concocting as we speak, and where better than-"

"Do you know where this vault is?"

Hook did not like to be interrupted and he liked Emma's tone even less. A calm anger stole over him, his eyes warning that just one more provocation would make Emma very sorry indeed. He took a moment before answering, ensuring that Emma understood what dangerous ground she walked on.

"Considering I was in Storybrooke for all of four days before being unceremoniously hospitalised, no, I don't know the intimate layout of your town." His voice was slow, deliberate, and as dangerous as a coiled snake. "Perhaps, as Sheriff, this would fall under your jurisdiction rather than mine?"

Emma was not taken in. She was annoyed at Hook for manipulating her need for information and she was even more annoyed at herself for falling for it. He was all seductive words and empty promises and if Emma wanted to find someone who would be useful in the fight against Cora, she would have to look outside of the hospital.

"Forget it," she muttered as she walked over to the door. "I'll go to Gold for help."

That got Hook's attention. Emma heard the handcuffs rattle as he tried to sit up.

"You would align yourself with the Crocodile?"

His mixture of incredulity and disgust raised Emma's defences again. It seemed everyone judged her for asking for Rumplestiltskin's help yet no one could offer any other practical form of advice.

"I would align myself with whoever can keep my son safe!" The ferocity in her tone took them both by surprise. In the ringing silence that followed, Emma worked on lowering her voice. "Your issues with him have nothing to with me."

Hook's jaw was set.

"You can't trust him."

"I don't need to trust him. He doesn't break a deal and that's all I need."

Hook shook his head, a disbelieving smile playing on his features. Though his lips were lifted, his eyes were dark with anger.

"You don't know what it means to be indebted to a demon like him."

Emma could have laughed at the irony if the situation wasn't so desperate.

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea."

For the smallest of moments, Hook was confused. When he understood the implication of Emma's words, his forehead creased even further. He looked at Emma as though he didn't recognise her.

"Then you're selling your soul to him, piece by piece."

The idea that Hook of all people judged her - whether he meant to or not - cut Emma deeply. Her methods may not have been spectacular but the results would speak for themselves. Who was Hook to question her? He had exploited every unsavoury opportunity he could in order to make it to Storybrooke. Hurt and angry, Emma reacted like she always did when she was in pain: she lashed out.

"At least I have a soul left to sell."

The words hung in the air like poison, growing more potent by the second. Did Emma believe that Hook was soulless? No. She had seen flickers of good in him, perhaps not enough to redeem him completely but enough to save him from sinking to Cora's depth of evil. Still, the remark had its intended effect; Hook had no more to say on the matter. After a few moments of eye contact, he was unable to even look at her. He settled back down into a reclining position, the smile he wore as forced as his disinterest in continuing the conversation.

Instead of the sharp, perceptive retort Emma had expected, Hook gave off an air of weary agreement. With the heavy sense that she had said something she would never be able to take back, Emma began to walk away. That, after all, was her second instinctive reaction to being hurt.

"David'll check on you in a couple of hours," she said as she reached the door, hesitating just before she opened it. She would not apologize for her words but the impact they had taken left her feeling uneasy. When no reply came, she knew that there was nothing left to say. She turned out the light and left.

Hook didn't call after her. Emma wasn't expecting him to.

Next chapter: Hook meets Henry.