.

(3)

"I'd like a room," Emma called out from reception desk, fingers tapping against the polished wood as the female clerk approached.

The woman's eyes immediately went to the leather-clad man standing some feet away. Emma noticed the blush growing on the receptionist's cheeks and followed her gaze, finding Hook gawking at the modestly decorated lobby of the Days Inn, fiddling mindlessly at his fake left hand.

Smiling tightly, Emma began to list off the accommodation requirements—a short list, but one where the need for separate beds was emphasized. At that, the clerk had gaped at her in disbelief but typed on her key board without a word.

It had been years since Emma had stayed in such inexpensive lodgings; this place made the bed & breakfast in Storybrooke look like an extravagance. But with no guarantee of how long they'd be staying in the city, Emma chose the most economical option. They wouldn't be staying indoors much anyway, she had reasoned. The inn was just a place for them to sleep.

Hours after settling into their room—and after a few indirect comments from the pirate about the size of their beds and the unnecessary amount of space between them—Emma had laid down on her mattress, fully clothed with the exception of her boots and leather jacket. Despite her exhaustion, sleep would not come.

Hook drifted off every now and then, his presence made clear only when his curiosity resulted in something crashing onto the carpeted floor, his own shoes and coat discarded by the window.

"How about some television," she muttered, handling the remote control and flipping through the channels. She did so slowly, managing to keep the erratic sounds of abruptly ending commercials and interrupted voices to a minimum for the Captain's sake. The moving images, while engrossing, didn't surprise Hook the way Emma had expected them to.

"Ah yes," he hummed when she landed on the Discovery Channel. "I've seen this before, when I was in your town's infirmary." As the lion caught up with the fleeing gazelle, Emma smirked. She should give him more credit.

She eventually decided on Jerry McGuire, managing to catch it 10 minutes in as it played on the one the local stations. While Emma found the film less than thrilling, the fact that it left Hook speechless within the first few scenes had won her over.

Having traveled though several realms and encountering nearly every kind of magical spell, the idea of actually being able to see a narrative unfolding before one's eyes never ceased to amaze Hook. Not just actors on a stage; they were always impeccably dressed as their parts, their set pieces so thoroughly convincing he felt as though he was glimpsing at reality. The people of this world took so much for granted.

This tale in particular—the story of a man vying for the affections of a blonde-haired beauty with a son—had a special resonance with him. He would glance over to Emma, who looked bored and on the verge of sleep every time, and hoped she was seeing the same connections he was. By the time the final act came, he could hear her snoring from the other side of the room. The credits rolled and Hook had to catch his breath as he fumbled with the device he had seen her use to bring the light box to life.

The next morning at the diner, as Hook struggled to determine which one of the coins sprayed before him was the quarter the gentleman had requested, and Emma came to his aid by spotting him the rest of the tab, he could only look at her with awe and appreciation.

"What?" she asked irritably, gloved hands shooting into her pockets.

"Emma," he began, his voice low and raspy. "You… complete me."

She let out an inelegant laugh at that, shaking her head and already heading for the door. "No more movies for you."

.