You don't look so hot.
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With the town's people finally regaining their memories, thanks to a combined effort from the Blue Fairy and Regina, they'd managed to oust Zelena from quietly walking through their ranks, pushing her to the outskirts of town with her monkey minions. The skirmish that brought was in the process of being cleared up, while all the Storybrooke residents came to terms with their returned memories of the last year.
Emma was standing outside Granny's, having left to escape a fairly awkward meeting between Regina, Robin and Henry, and was now caught up in a conversation with David and a friend of his from the Enchanted Forest.
"Emma, Edward here was kind enough to sail through a treacherous squall to save Red and the dwarves from the witch's ambush." Edward was a stocky man, dark black hair and beard, dull blue eyes and a weather beaten face. He seemed to shrug off and bask in the praise from David all at the same time.
"Nothin' any navy man wouldn't have done I'm sure, yer highness." The modesty was false, and Emma assumed it was simply because this man was literally gaining the praise of his crowned Prince or whatever. Emma's attention drifted slightly as she saw the familiar black leather clad figure approach the diner. She hadn't seen much of him since he'd been thrown through the cobblers window earlier, taking a magical blast from Zelena that distracted the witch long enough to get Mary Margaret off the streets.
She was about to smile, call him over and thank him for that, when she noticed the sharp raise in his eyebrows before he, rather comically, stopped mid-step and turned on his heel to walk the other way. Emma couldn't contain the burst of almost laughter at that, gaining David's attention.
"Hook, hey," she could almost see him roll his eyes at being caught. "Hook, come and meet a fellow sailor." Watching the pirates shoulders sag, Emma frowned slightly at the body language, watching Hook twist around again and plaster the tightest, most fake smile she'd seen on his face. "Hook, meet Edward, a friend from the Kingdom."
Emma barely listened to the exchange, watching the way Hook held his left arm under his right side, shielding the hook under his jacket while he took the offered hand to shake, his expression closed and eyes blank, but his jaw tight and tense. Something was off.
"Hey, are you okay?" She was sure that Whale had checked him over; Regina had told her that the spell was nothing fancy, just fairly forceful, but if he'd broken his ribs again he should be at the hospital.
"Fine lass, just some bumps." Even his tone wasn't the same.
"I was just telling Emma about how sorely needed Edward's help was. Merchant sailors were hard to find." David is apparently oblivious to the discomfort in Hook.
"Merchant, eh? That what you call it now?" The sharpness of the tone caught Emma's attention instantly, along with the disdain dripping from it. She'd rarely seen Hook so closed off, not even in Neverland. In Neverland, when faced with Pan, he was nothing but bluster and arrogance, a light that danced in his eyes at every interaction, proving that Pan didn't have the upper hand. Even in the Enchanted Forest, when they first met, there was a life about him that she could barely understand, this never ending spark for mischief just below the surface.
This? This is cool and controlled and barely contained. This is Captain Hook, dread pirate and feared. She can understand why he'd be notorious across the seas if this was his persona during the years, if the revenge and hatred had hardened him to the core like this, there would be reason for the stories. Not the cheeky, dashing pirate with the sharkish grin and the panty dropping smirk. He was nowhere to be seen in the man in front of them.
"If the cap fits. Y'know, never thought this day would come." Edward and Hook apparently have some history.
"I had sorely hoped it wouldn't." And it didn't seem to be good history.
"You two know each other?" David had caught a clue it seemed, although Emma wasn't too sure if he'd caught the tension in the confrontation just yet.
"You could say that, yes." Edward had an unnerving sort of smile on his face, as if he was both surprised and annoyed at the turn around, while Hook's snarl hadn't really left. Clearly, they didn't like each other at all. "How did you survive anyway? Would've thought you'd starve." Emma was starting to get a picture; they could've been allies at some point, but Edward screwed Hook over and left him somewhere. And that struck a little too close to home for Emma.
"Clearly I've made a living exceeding your expectations then, hmm?" Emma was starting to worry that Hook might grind through his jaw at the rate he was going, "Liam found out." Wait, Liam was from before Hook's pirating days; Liam's death was the reason for them.
"Liam, Liam your brother Liam?" David was glancing between Edward and Hook, apparently trying to keep up with the vagueness of the conversation just the same as Emma was.
"Big brother playing the father, eh. Should've guessed that."
"Well you did a piss poor job of it." And that, that right there stuns Emma cold. Hook's never said much about his parents; she understands his mother was a non-entity, she knew he'd been left behind at some point, knew he was an orphan like her. She didn't expect this though. Neither did David by the spluttering.
"You're… He's… How is…" Emma understands the body language now, the shield between his emotions and his appearance, why Hook's shut down so much right then.
"Sea witches can be very generous."
"The gift of eternal youth," Hook snorted and rolled his eyes, jaw grinding a little more and Emma wanted to reach out, offer some kind of comfort, but she knew better than to do that right now. "Hardly a gift the way you pay for it, old man."
Edward would have to be at least three hundred and fifty himself, she doesn't know exactly how old Hook is herself, she knows that he's spent at least three hundred years in Neverland, she doesn't know how old he was before then, but apparently, Hook's father was just as good at finding a way to survive the centuries as well. And she can see it, maybe, the resemblance between them. Hook's face isn't just as drawn, more sharp and handsome, still with a boyish quality under the scruff and eyeliner, Edward was far more weathered, clearly succumbing more to the ravages of time than Hook.
"Like you can talk, boy. Well preserved for three hundred years, and just where is your stalwart brother, hmm? Not lurking around t' fight yer battle, runt?"
"Okay, how about we just move this along," Emma wasn't about to stand around and see just what Hook would do upon further mention of Liam, grabbing Hook's hand and pulling him away from his father and into the diner, leaving her father to deal with the other man. "Are you sure you're okay?" This time it wasn't just his health she was concerned about, between the knock through the window and she could imagine pretty well what he must be feeling about the rather unwanted reunion with his father, "You don't look so great, c'mon let's get something warm in you." They were staying away from the rum that was for sure.
Thankfully, Regina and Robin had sorted things out with Henry, who was now sitting happily with the pair of them, presumably discussing the new addition of merry outlaw to their already complicated network of family. She manages to give him a smile, tight though it is, as she directs Hook towards the front bar, getting Granny to bring over a hot chocolate. She doesn't think he needs rum, and coffee isn't terribly smart right then, the best she can think of is hot cocoa; it makes Henry feel better, it makes her feel better, even Mary Margaret drinks it when she's stressed or upset.
She's mostly worried because he just sits there, staring at the counter in front of him. She can't really imagine what it must be like; she'd spent years believing that her parents didn't want her, that no one wanted her, only to be proven wrong and overwhelmed but the startling amount of love her family had for her, even the people not related by blood. But Hook, it's not an assumption on his part, and Emma feels horrible that he has to deal with this on top of all the chaos around them.
Granny brings over the mug of hot chocolate, having sprinkled the cinnamon over the top, likely without thinking, and places it in front of them. Hook barely even acknowledges it, although his hand does curve around the mug and almost clutch it. Regina, thankfully, notices that not all is well; taking Henry and Robin out, and Granny is blessedly absent for once, not hovering to know the latest gossip. Or maybe Hook is right and the matriarch does have a soft spot for him, giving him the much needed space.
"Do you want to talk about it?" It feels pathetically empty, worthless really. But Emma Swan knows rejection, and all the walls in the world don't protect you from the worst one of all. She'd felt that at just three years old, when she was replaced and sent away. Hook exhales harshly, almost a sigh, almost a chuckle, even with a bitter tinge.
"It shouldn't even bother me anymore." He was trying to think rationally, but rationality had nothing to do with this. "It was lifetimes ago and the bastard can still make it feel like yesterday." She'd said a while ago, what felt like years ago, that they understood each other, she'd admitted that they had a connection, they were just as broken as each other, and it's startling to see where his breaks stemmed from. "I was six," Hook swallowed audibly, shaking his head, "we'd left out home port, he'd said we were going on an adventure. The adventure was his thieving from the Governor's home and going on the run. He left me at the next dock, too conspicuous, slowing him down, he always said I was worthless really anyway."
"Where um, where was your mother?" She knew that Liam was Navy; Hook had told her in Neverland, during one of their camp fire nights, sharing a coconut and asking each other questions, sharing their pasts. He'd talked about Liam with fondness, even with the grief that still clung to his words; he'd clearly worshiped his brother. But there had never been mention of a mother.
"She died birthing me." Three hundred years ago, she supposed that was a common thing. But then, in the Enchanted Forest, it seemed it was possible for most pregnancies to end in just one person surviving the birth. "Apparently he got mean after she died, drank more, gambled more, worked less. Liam left to join the Navy at fourteen. I had just turned five when he left."
Hook distracted himself with his hot chocolate while Emma processed the new information, understanding that Killian, as just a boy, was left with an emotionally abusive drunk for a father who eventually abandoned him and expected him to die. It was obvious now that this was the first time father and son had seen each other since then, both likely having believed the other dead.
"Eventually, Liam found out, went back to our home and was informed that his father was wanted for theft, treason, a multitude of other petty things, took him another few weeks to find me, mind you." And Emma knew the rest of that story; Liam had convinced his Captain to take Killian on as a cabin boy, when Killian was of age, he joined the Navy along with his brother and worked his way through the ranks at a ferocious pace until her was placed as his brother's Lieutenant. And then Neverland happened.
The worst part of it is that Emma knows Killian was nine when Liam found him, she knows now that he spent three years on his own, surviving somehow, clearly right about making a living out of exceeding his father's expectations. She could see that the memories were slamming through him, the sharpness to his bright blue eyes, the rigid set in his jaw and the defeated slump in his shoulders.
"You're better than he ever thought you would be, and he's the failure, Killian." Emma stands behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her cheek against his, feeling him turn towards her, seeing him close his eyes and savour it. "Liam would be proud of who you are now, screw that waste of space."
He snorts slightly, a curve of a smile tugging at his lips momentarily, and Emma counts that as a minor win in her books.
"He goes by Blackbeard," and that does not sound like the name of a merchant sailor, "tell David to be careful?"
"We'll keep our eyes on him." The slump of Hook's shoulders doesn't seem so much like defeat anymore as much as acceptance, but Emma doesn't back away just yet, completely content to linger a while and hope to bring some semblance of comfort to her pirate.
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