Emma hadn't slept well. Her dreams were plagued by restlessness as she ran, ran, ran toward some unknown destination. She woke up the next morning with determination coursing through her veins. She knew what she needed to do: return the dress to Neal and somehow get him to leave before he and Henry found out about each other.
As she made her way to the Bed and Breakfast with the dress draped over her arm, she thought over the night before. Henry had always been much too perceptive for his own good, something she'd always known from the first moment she met him, but she had been unprepared for his interrogation. It was more important than ever for her to get Neal to leave. She was sure it was only a matter of days before Henry found out about him and she was unwilling to admit how angry she knew he'd be if he found out the truth.
When Emma was in the lobby and found no one there, she felt overwhelmingly relieved. Throwing caution to the wind, she snuck behind the counter and quickly looked through the ledger to find which room Neal was in.
She was about to go up the stairs when she stopped. Turning around, she grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a quick note onto it.
Neal, I'm returning this dress to you so can get your money back. I hope you have a nice trip back to New York. Emma
Emma scanned the note before deciding it was good enough, and she turned to head up the stairs. She knew her words were passive aggressive, she just couldn't find it in herself to care.
Emma wanted to run and get out of there as soon as possible, but the stairs were creaky, and she didn't want to call attention to herself. She stopped outside the door of room six, listening intently. The tv was on inside the room. Neal was there.
Feeling jumpy, Emma hung the dress on the doorknob and put her note on the ground before she turned tail and fled, not even caring if she made any noise.
Running felt good, the strain in her muscles and her shortness of breath reminding her how long it had been since she'd run like this.
I'll run to the station, no need to go pick up the bug.
Thinking of the yellow car brought a stab of pain to her chest as she imagined what Neal would say if he saw she was still driving it.
Emma was still wondering how that conversation would play out and therefore was paying no attention as she sped around a corner and ran straight into a black clad figure.
She crashed to the ground, catching her weight on her hands and feeling the skin scrape away as they connected with the concrete. "Damn," she muttered.
"You alright there, love?"
Emma's heart actually stopped in her chest as she recognized the voice. Only one person had ever called her 'love.' How ironic that she'd see him as she was literally running away from Neal.
She took a shuddering breath as she looked up at him.
"Fine," she answered.
Hook held out his hand to help her to her feet, his blue eyes piercing. "You were running awfully fast there, Swan, everything okay?"
"I'm fine," she said again. She tried to brush the dirt off her hands, but stopped when her palms screamed in protest. She groaned.
"You don't look fine," he said, taking one of her hands in his.
Did he notice the spark that flamed through her at his touch?
Hook leaned down and conducted a quick assessment of her bloody palms. "You need to get these cleaned up."
Emma continued to look down at her hands so he couldn't see the blush that was creeping across her cheeks. She tried to brush it off, determined to not let him know the effect he had on her. "It'll be fine."
She knew that he was looking skeptically at her, but she still refused to make eye contact with him, instead deciding to resume her path to the station.
He simply turned and walked with her. "You don't seem fine," he said as he matched her stride.
"I don't?"
"Open book, remember?"
She felt her face get redder. He was right, of course, she'd just never admit it.
They walked in silence for a while. Emma was normally completely uncomfortable with silence, but with Hook it didn't feel awkward. She felt calm for the first time in days.
He was the one who finally broke the silence. "Please let me help you with your hands."
She finally looked into his face and was shocked by the sincerity she saw there.
"It's the least I can do for knocking you over."
Emma swallowed before answering. "Okay."
Hook grinned at her, and she was unable to stop a matching smile from creeping onto her face too.
Once they got to the station, Emma went right to her desk and pulled out the first aid kit. She sat down on the wooden surface. Hook's brow furrowed as he looked over the contents of the box.
She laughed. "Use this one," she said, handing him the bottle of antiseptic wash. "And this." She handed him the gauze roll.
He set to work then, concentrating on his task. Emma couldn't help thinking about the last time he'd fixed her hand, on top of the beanstalk. She was on the point of wondering if he'd use his mouth to tie the bandage again when he bent down and did just that, tying a neat knot and securing the wrap around her wrist. He then paid the same attention to her other hand.
What else can he do with that mouth?
He glanced up at her then, and she thought for a frantic moment that she'd spoken aloud, but then she realized that he was finished.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes, thank you."
He grinned brightly at her. "Glad to help, milady," he said, and he actually bowed before turning and leaving her sitting dumbfounded on her desk.
