Too Much, Too Far


Hook cornered Emma in the kitchen after he dropped Lizzie off at school.

She was only just out the shower, hair loose and freshly dried, clothes soft against her skin. Other-Emma had a different fashion sense than her. She was more into soft jumpers and dresses, whereas Emma prefered a good pair of jeans and a tank top. She managed to get a good night's sleep the night before, so she had woken early and bright-eyed.

Hook, on the other hand, didn't look like he was faring so well. His face was pale with sleepless nights, his eyes bloodshot and tender. If Emma didn't know him any better, she'd say he was heartbroken. That was the feeling she got from him every time he fixed her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes she was so unused to seeing.

"I have something to tell you, love," he said.

She turned, in the midst of drying a plate, and raised her eyebrows in response.

"Now, bear with me…"

She didn't like the sound of that. She turned to face him, folding her arms, battle stance at the ready. Was he going to tell her to stop with the questions? He hadn't objected to them last night, but she could tell he was at breaking point, especially when she started quizzing him on their sex-life... and his villainy. They were touchy subjects. She made note to use them as button pushers later, when the occasion arose.

"What?" she asked. When she realised how hostile her voice sounded, she added, softer, "What's up?"

"We've been invited out to dinner," he said, grimly, watching her with those bright blue eyes. She looked away from his gaze, finding that it burned into her too much.

"Okay?"

"With your mother and father."

"That's it?" She almost laughed.

She noted the relief on his face. She thought it would be much worse, especially with the way he was acting. But her parents, she could handle. In fact, she could probably use them to her advantage. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he caught it before she dropped her expression into something more neutral. He must have mistook it, for his own face broke out into a smile, and for a moment it was so blinding she couldn't look away. She had never seen him smile like that, not once, not even when he flirted so shamelessly with her.

"I need to go and sort out the laundry," he said, still smiling. He made his way to the door but turned just shy of it. "And Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Glad to see a bit of the old you."

The twist of guilt in her gut surprised her.


So, it was settled. Lizzie, Neal and Archie were to stay with Belle, who took on her babysitting duties with enthusiasm. She turned up at the door a, little earlier than expected, to pick Lizzie up. Emma couldn't notice how much happier she seemed. Nothing like the shy, closed-off Belle she had known back in the other Storybrooke.

"You're alright having three of them sleep over?" Emma heard Killian ask.

"It will be my pleasure."

Emma had yet to come down the stairs. She was perched at the top of the landing, listening to their conversation, and glimpsing Belle from around the corner. She hadn't worked up the courage to go down the stairs yet, and she wasn't quite finished getting ready but she wanted to hear what tales Hook spun when she wasn't around. Was it just her he was fooling, or was it the whole town?

"Brilliant. Thanks again, love."

"No problem," she said, holding her hand out for Lizzie to take. "Have you said goodbye to mummy?" she asked her.

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah, I went upstairs to say goodbye. She's getting ready."

"I'll give her your love," Killian said to Belle.

"Please do."

He gave his daughter one last wave before she disappeared down the path with Belle. When Emma heard the door close, she scrambled back into the bedroom, heart pounding in her chest.

She needed to finish getting ready. It wouldn't do to be distracted. She caught sight of the jewelry she laid out on the bed for herself, and crossed the room to pick it up. Usually she wasn't the jewelry type, but today she wanted to make an impression on Killian. It was all part of her game plan.

She laid out a glimmering necklace, a few bracelets, and earrings. They were all silver, sparkling in the light when she picked them up. She fastened her earrings first, pushing back her freshly curled hair. She'd been wearing her hair less curly recently, because she hardly had time to shower with all the monsters running about, let alone spend hours in front of the mirror. But she found she missed it, as she pinched a curl between her fingertips. It was reminiscent of a bail bonds Emma; someone who did whatever she had to to get answers.

That was who she needed to be tonight.

Perhaps that was why she'd decided on a tight black dress she found in the back of the wardrobe. This body was older than her normal one, but she still managed to pull it off. If she and Hook were really married, he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her, and that would make everything run much more smoothly. She paired it with black kitten heels.

She was just about to go downstairs when a breeze wafted from the open window, straight to her bare legs. She felt the goosebumps rise and the cold run through her. Stockings would help that. Now, where would they be?

She started with the drawers, pulling them open, and peering inside. She thoroughly looked through panties, socks and bras, but she wasn't able to find the stockings. She decided to try her luck on the lingerie drawer she'd found one of the first few nights she'd been here. She felt around, and found not stockings, but the red lacy panties and bra she'd come across before. As she pulled them out of the drawer, another thought struck her.

It would be bad…

But if it worked, it would be oh so useful…

Her lips curled into a slow smile. Yes, those would come very useful later tonight, but not until after the meal. He'd have a few drinks, and so would she, to get her confidence up.

Captain Hook really didn't know what he was in for.


"Wow, Emma," Hook said as she walked down the stairs, smiling at him in greeting. "You look beautiful, but we're just going to Granny's."

She stepped off the bottom step. "Is it bad that I wanted to dress up?"

"You won't find me complaining." She noticed Captain Hook flashed in Killian Jones' eyes.

When she held her hand out for him he looked at it, surprised, but she nodded. He took it. His hand felt strange in hers, and the feeling of his touch made her want to snatch it out of his immediately, but she pushed the thought away and smiled at him. She was going to have to be on her best behaviour if her plan was going to work.

For now.

By the time they got to Granny's, Mary Margaret and David were already there, sat in a booth. They smiled at them as they made their way in. David stood up immediately and took Emma's coat, murmuring a, "You look beautiful."

"Thanks Dav- uh, dad." She cringed at herself.

She sat next to Mary Margaret, who she deemed safe territory. Mary Margaret smiled at her with glowing eyes, and handed her a menu.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, with a smile.

"A lot better, thanks mom."

"Killian told us you were making more of an effort. I'm really glad to hear that, Emma. You'll be back to your old self in no time."

"I think you might be right."

They order drinks. Hook decided on rum, no surprises there, and Emma ordered a big glass of red wine. She gulped down half of it as soon as the waitress set it on the table in front of her. She ignored everyone's worried eyes on her, as she set it back on the table with a louder clink than necessary.

"Right, what are we ordering?"

Everyone ordered burgers. When the waitress came, Hook ordered onion rings for Emma instead of fries, and fixed her with a smile. She had to force herself to smile back, alarm bells ringing in her head. He knew her too well. They'd been married for years.

He knew her too well.

They were in the middle of waiting for the food when Emma decided to bring up the questions.

"Hook and I have found a way to beat the amnesia," she said, gulping more wine. With everyone's eyes on her, attentive and listening, she continued. "We're playing 20 questions. Aren't we?"

"That we are," he said, taking a steady sip of his rum. His eyes were guarded as he watched her.

"So I might ask Hook some questions during dinner- and I might ask you some too, is that okay?"

"Of course Emma," Mary Margaret said, reaching across to take her hand. She squeezed warmly. "We are willing to do anything to help you. Please ask us anything you think might help."

"I will," she said, suppressing her smile.

She decided to bide her time. She listened to Mary Margaret talk about Neal, and how he refused to do his homework, because -according to him- he was a prince and princes didn't have to do homework. David rolled his eyes as he listened to his wife tell the story, interrupting to add that algebra is much less work than sword fighting or horse training, or all the other things a prince has to do to rule the Kingdom. Mary Margaret mentioned that she had to get through three thick volumes a week when she was learning how to be a princess. It taught her discipline and helped her realise the true sacrifices princesses have to make.

Emma tried not to seem bored by the conversation when, truthfully, it was a little out of her depth. She couldn't imagine Mary Margaret as a princess, or David as a prince, and she didn't want to. It all seemed so far away from her, and though she knew it was true, she couldn't connect herself to the reality of it.

"I'm sure Neal will grow out of it," said Hook. "He's a smart lad. If it's a sword fighting lesson he wants, perhaps I could teach him a few tricks."

"Yeah, like how to play dirty, pirate," David said, but the tone was playful. She was surprised to see the men exchange wide smiles, and it put her on edge. Who'd have thought they'd end up becoming such good friends? It sent a shudder right through her.

Only when the food arrived, did Emma put her plan into action. She waited until everyone had cut into their burgers before she got out, "So, what do you guys think of our marriage?"

David swallowed a mouthful. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's happy?"

Mary Margaret and David exchanged looks, before she too swallowed her own mouthful. "Haven't you asked Kill-"

"Yes, but I'm asking you. I don't think Ho- Killian would lie." She directed a forced smile at Hook, who had become very still. "But I want your side of it. Please understand, I'm trying to piece all of this together. I can't do that if you won't help me."

"Of course you're happy, Emma," Mary Margaret said. "I've never known a couple so in love, or so trusting as you two."

Emma somehow found that hard to believe, but she nodded along nevertheless, and took a bite out of her burger. Despite how ever many years seemed to have passed, it still tasted exactly the same as she remembered. Same recipe or… magic?

She decided to ask simpler questions, rather than reel out the big one she planned to ask. She asked them how often they come around to the house.

"Every week, of course!" said David. "Though, not in the mornings anymore. Not since we walked in on you making -uh - pancakes."

According to David, Neal slept over at her house a lot. According to Mary Margaret, he loved his Auntie Emma, who managed to make him smile more than anyone else. Emma found that hard to believe too. She couldn't even keep hold of her own kid, how would she be able to charm others?

She wanted to know how she suddenly came to trust them so much, and when she started to call them 'mom and dad', but she didn't want to offend them, so she kept her mouth shut about that. It was only when they were halfway through dessert - strawberry and lemon cheesecakes - that Emma decided to bring out the harder questions.

"So dad," she said, with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, "How come you let me marry Captain Hook?"

His smile faltered, but only for a second. "What do you mean?"

"Were you happy with that?"

His eyes flickered over to Hook and back to Emma, his smile growing wider. "Of course I was. I love Killian. I couldn't have picked a better match for you myself- of course, not that we pick matches here, not since the Enchanted Forest."

Her smile remained plastered to her face. That was not the answer she was hoping for. She didn't want to have to do it, but she was going to have to up her game. They had forced her hand.

"So you really don't mind?"

"Don't mind what?"

"That I married a pirate?"

Hook gave a small cough. She looked over to him. His eyes were unreadable. "I think we all know I'm not that man any more."

"Do we?" The stare she fixed him with was unblinking. She turned back to her parents. "I mean, do you really believe he just woke up one day and changed? You're heroes. And he is- was- a villain."

"What sort of heroes would we be if we didn't believe people could change?" Mary Margaret asked, gently. "Your father and I, we've done things we're not proud of-"

"But I doubt you've killed countless innocent people," she said. She finished off her glass of wine. She needed her courage for her next words. "Come on, dad. How do you really feel that that hand- the hand that so gently brushes hair off my face-"

"Emma, don't do this," Killian said. She didn't even look at him.

"-Or that hand, that have so softly touched-"

"Emma!"

"-have also ran a sword through innocents, hell, for the fun of it. How does it make you feel that your little girl married a man who ripped wives from husbands?"

"Emma, please," Hook's voice was pained, but she wasn't falling for it.

"-who ripped fathers from their children?"

"Emma!" Mary Margaret shouted.

She finally looked into her parents' faces. They were red, but that wasn't what got her. They were looking into her face like they didn't know her at all. They shook their heads, but she didn't let it get to her. She couldn't.

She threw down her napkin and rose from her seat. Without uttering another word, she turned and left Granny's, out into the cold. No-one called after her, even though she half expected them to. She gulped down cold air, sighing as a breeze hit her warm skin. She needed the air to think, to clear her head.

She wondered if they were talking about her, shaking their heads, muttering how she's not the Emma that they know and love. Good, she thought savagely. Maybe then they'd realise that she's not the real Emma, and send her back to the real Storybrooke, instead of keeping her at this God awful hell of a place.

She heard footsteps behind her. And of course when she turned, Hook was right there, closing the distance between them in a matter of strides. His eyes were dark, and his expression was still unreadable. She turned away from him, and out into the street, folding her arms. He came to stand beside her. He didn't speak for a while. The only sound was the crickets' soft chirping, and the faint sound of music coming from the diner. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you want me to do, Emma?"

She turned away from him, away from his gaze which was so uncharacteristically patient, and kept her own gaze fixed on the street. He sighed.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

The journey was silent. Emma didn't utter a word to him, and he didn't utter a word to her. She wondered why he didn't try and make conversation with her, or ask her what that was all about, and then she would tell him that the only way she would stop would be if he promised to help her get back to the real Storybrooke. But he didn't speak.

They went their separate ways when they returned to the house. Killian went straight into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of a bottle hitting the side, and liquid being poured in a glass before she continued on up the stairs.

She had intended to kick off her heels, to get into her pajamas and go to sleep, but the red garments on the bed caught her eye and she remembered the next part of her plan. She smiled as she picked up the lacy red bra.

Let's see what kind of man you really are, Captain.

It took all of her courage. Three times she made it out into the hall, and ran back into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, talking herself into it. She needed to do this tonight, if she was going to do it at all. Lizzie wasn't here, which made it the perfect opportunity.

She stood back up. She'd swapped her black heels for some red ones, to match the lacy undergarments she wore. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. The red stood out against her creamy skin, and it did wonders for the golden tones in her hair. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at her reflection.

She was Emma Swan. She wasn't scared of anything. And she definitely wasn't scared of Captain Hook.

She made her way down the stairs, slowly, in her heels. He was no longer in the kitchen, but in the living room. He was sat on the sofa, his back to her as he looked into the fire, like something out of a storybook. His hand was clasped around a glass of rum. She watched as he brought it up and took a long, slow sip.

She leaned against the doorframe, placing one hand on her hip, the other against the door.

"Well, hello there Captain."

He jumped out of his seat and turned around. His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he took her in. "Bloody hell, Emma?"

"What do you think?"

She watched as he stood up, glass left forgotten as he approached her, eyes still wide.

"What do I think?"

She almost rolled her eyes. Almost. But instead, she sauntered forward, swaying her hips, borrowing some of that confidence she seemed to possess during one night stands. The idea was to seduce, not be vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

She came to a stop in front of him and touched the collar of his shirt. He didn't move away from her, but he didn't take her in his arms like she thought he would. He stared at her, expression torn, eyebrows knit together. She dragged her hand from the collar down his chest, skimming over the buttons.

"Emma…" he warned.

But she continued her path, right down to the bottom of his shirt. It was a move that always worked, especially when she slowed the trail of her hand.

"Don't you want this?" she asked, blinking innocently up at him.

He caught her hand. "Emma," he warned again, though there was something in his voice. It was deeper. There was an edge to it. She smiled.

"C'mon." She leaned in and whispered, "What do you say?"

The pause was long. She didn't like being so close to him- it put her on edge. His face was so close to hers, she could see each individual tiny hair on his chin. She could smell the sweetness of the rum coming off his tongue, and something else, perhaps a sea salt shower gel. She hadn't been nearly this close to him since they were on the beanstalk and he'd bandaged her hand.

"No," he finally said.

"No?" Her tone was laced with surprise. "What do you mean "no"?"

"I won't take advantage of you, not when you're like this." He moved a hand up to stroke hair from her face, but she flinched away from his touch. "You won't even let me touch you like this, Emma. How am I supposed to make love to you?"

No, that's not the answer she wanted. She hadn't intended to sleep with him, but get him to try it on with her, so she could prove what she'd already known; he was a villain, and always would be. There was a quick jolt of shame, but she pushed it away and inched forward to him.

"Oh c'mon."

She leaned in for a kiss, but he caught her by her shoulders. His jaw was set, his eyes stern. "No."

She caught him by his collar and pulled him towards her with all the force she could muster, crashing her lips to his. They both stumbled before regaining their balance. His lips were soft- softer than she had imagined- but when she tried to move her mouth with his, there was no response. He gently but firmly pushed her away, and though she resisted, he was too strong for her.

"Emma, please don't do this." The look he gave her was earnest. "I know you do not want to do this."

"Look, you're an attractive man. A girl has needs."

She moved to kiss him again but he placed a finger on her lips. She looked up at him and for a second he seemed to be amused, his eyebrow quirking up.

"I knew you'd come around eventually love," he said, and his tone was teasing. "But I really don't think this is the best idea."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"I've told you why not. I- can't. That's not who I am. Not any more."

She scoffed. "Yeah right."

Then all at once his face moved from gentle, kind and patient to dark in a matter of seconds. It wasn't anger exactly, but pain, and it cast a shadow over every one of his features. He took a step back from her.

"That's why you're doing this," he said, with quiet realisation. "You're trying to see what kind of man I am. I thought that perhaps- perhaps you were remembering, perhaps a part of you missed-" He shook his head. "But you're playing me. That's what the questions are about, aren't they? You've not been forthright with me. You're not trying to remember. You're manipulating me."

He looked at her, waiting for her to deny it, but she couldn't. For some reason, she couldn't lie to him.

"What do you expect me to do?" she finally asked. "Huh? You won't help me. What am I supposed to do?"

"I expect you to come to me."

"I did come to you. And, in case you've forgotten, you refused to help me."

His face changed from stony back to gentle. He took a step towards her, voice soft as he said, "Emma, I am trying to help you. I promise. We all are. I just want you to rememb-"

"I haven't forgotten anything!" she shouted. She hadn't intended to lose her temper, but she knew if he said the words 'remember' one more time, she was going to lose it. And suddenly, it was like she couldn't stop, and words were pouring out of her. "All you care about is getting the "old Emma" back, like I have amnesia. Well guess what? I don't. And you won't even entertain the possibility that what I'm saying might be true. You've convinced yourself that I'm wrong without even listening to my side of the story. You- and the rest of my family- are all hearing what you want to hear."

"Emma-"

"How would you feel if one day you were arresting Captain Hook for shooting someone, another living human being who has done nothing wrong. He looked me in the eyes and he told me that he didn't care who he hurt, as long as he got his revenge. Then suddenly, later that day, I'm married to him? The villain, Captain Hook?"

He clenched his jaw. "I told you, I'm not that man anymore."

"Then I don't know who you are, because you clearly don't care enough about me to help me. And I feel sorry for this Emma who you claim is your wife."

"How do you think I feel?" he shouted.

She scoffed and folded her arms.

"My wife woke up one day and suddenly she's not my wife anymore. She refuses to look at me because she finds me repulsive. She is frightened of me." He takes a step towards her. "I cannot hold her. I cannot even talk to her, because she is under the impression that I am a villain."

"You shot Belle!"

"I am not that man any more," he bellows in her face. "I know who I was. I know what I did. Do not think for one second that I've forgotten."

"I don't understand."

"What's so hard to comprehend, Emma?" He stalks towards her now, and she steps backwards with him. "Yes, I was a villain, but I confronted my past, and I learned from it. I changed for the better, and that was all because of you." He takes a breath, and she thinks he's done but then he says, "You changed too."

Changed? She flinched.

"I didn't- don't need to change."

"Well that's where you're wrong," he said, softly now. "You were closed off. You put yourself before others. Your walls were so high, you couldn't even see over them yourself, let alone break them down." He paused, studying her face. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are not my Emma. My Emma is open. She's caring, selfless, but most importantly, she is open to love."

Emma wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold, suddenly very aware that she is hardly wearing a thing. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

"Well there's one thing I don't buy," she says, without looking at him.

"What's that?"

"I could never and would never love you."

The tension in the air was thicker than it had ever been. She expected him to shout at her, to tell her to get out, to revert to his usual ways, but when she looked up at him, he was not even looking at her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

"Fine," he said, so quietly, she wasn't sure she heard him right.

"What?"

"I said fine. I'll help you. Starting tomorrow, we will work out a plan, and we'll get you back to wherever you bloody came from."

He strode past her and out into the hallway. She heard his footsteps thunder up the stairs. The guest bedroom door slammed shut. Emma stood there for some time, arms wrapped around herself.

She had gotten what she wanted. So why was it that she felt like she hadn't won at all?


Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!