Disclaimer: Still not my characters. Still playing with them nonetheless. They're happier with us.

A/N: Getting closer to the end ... maybe another two or three chapters. Thank you all for the faves, follows, and reviews!


Ruby watched Emma leave with Hook with a huge frown on her face. Seriously, what was wrong with Emma that she couldn't see what was right in front of her?

She turned to Regina whose eyes were following Emma down the street, her face a mask. It didn't matter that Emma had disappeared from view several seconds ago — Ruby just knew that Regina was still watching, even if only in her mind's eye. She strolled over to Regina's booth, coffee pot in one hand — as handy an excuse as any, she figured — and dropped down into the seat Emma had just vacated, her breakfast mostly untouched.

"Did Emma not like her pancakes?" she asked in a conversational tone.

Regina gave her a look. "Don't play coy, Miss Lucas," she said evenly. "It doesn't suit you. Either say what you've come here to say or stop bothering me."

Ruby nodded once, not really offended by Regina's tone. "Fine with me," she shrugged. "Want to tell me what happened? Why did Emma leave with that … with Hook instead of having breakfast with you? You looked pretty comfortable together before he arrived."

Regina mustered Ruby for a long moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Lucas," she finally dismissed the younger woman.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Okay, first off, just call me Ruby for crying in the night," she huffed. "And second …" She hesitated.

"Second?" Regina asked, eyebrow raised. "Not that I'm all that interested," she added hastily.

"Of course not," Ruby snorted. "And second … I know."

When she didn't continue, it was Regina's turn to roll her eyes. "Know what, Miss Lucas?" she hissed.

"I know about your feelings for Emma," Ruby revealed quietly, but intently, leaning across the table.

Regina sat back in her seat with an air of supreme casualness. "Was that what your ill-placed innuendos were about earlier?" she asked, mild disinterest in her voice. "That you think you know something? I'm afraid you're barking up the completely wrong tree. That handless pirate is the one with feelings for Emma, or so I'm told."

"Regina," Ruby sighed the name. "I was there last night, at the dock. I saw the way you watched that date, if you could call it that. I saw the way you looked at her last night, and the way you looked at her this morning." She gave Regina a smile. "Dammit, I'm not here to confront you or anything … I want to help if I can."

Regina looked startled and for a second she forgot her denial. "Why would you help me … if I had feelings for Em— Ms. Swan, that is?"

"Because I'm pretty sure Emma looks at you the same way when you're not looking," Ruby pointed out. "I just think she has no idea what she's feeling. I think she's confused and needs a shove in the right direction."

The conversation was getting to be too much for Regina. It couldn't be, nobody could know she loved Emma. How blatantly obvious had she been? Had Hook known? His parting words ran through her head once again. Had she been played? Had she helped drive Emma into his arms just like he wanted after all? But what if Ruby was right? If Emma really … but no, Emma couldn't share her feelings, could she?

Regina needed to think, needed to get out of the diner, needed to be alone. She pulled out a twenty and put it on the table as she scrambled out of the booth with far less grace than Ruby had ever seen. "I have to go," she mumbled. "Keep the change."

Then she ran out with quick, long steps, her heels beating a loud staccato.

Too much, too much, too much, idiot, Ruby thought with a sigh. She shared one look with Granny who had watched Regina's exit with hooded eyes from behind the counter. They had a short silent conversation across the room, then Granny nodded and pointed at the door. Ruby dropped the coffee pot off at the counter, then ran out after Regina. She had to fix this.

o-o-o

Emma fumed. And that was putting it mildly.

In reality, she had trouble even finding words for the mix of emotions coursing through her body. At first Hook had been silent, walking beside her, only trying to grab her hand once or twice. Each time Emma had managed to avoid it by taking a quick step away from him. Hook had huffed in frustration, but hadn't mentioned it.

When they had gotten to the beach, however, Emma had had enough of the sulking, silent presence by her side. "So," she had started, slowing her brisk walk to more of a stroll. "You wanted to explain your behavior last night ..."

Hook had tried to pull her into his arms but a few quick steps got Emma out of his reach again. And that's where they were now. "Can't you talk without always trying to grab me?" Emma asked, both baffled and disgusted by his continued inability to listen or even read her body language correctly.

"What's wrong with a little touching?"

"You mean apart from the fact that I clearly don't want it right now?" she demanded in return.

"See," Hook had said, "you're saying you don't want it ... but I've known women far longer than you've been one, lass, and I think you're just being coy because you're mad at me for some reason."

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?"

Hook took another step toward her. "Emma," he cooed. "Why do you keep fighting this attraction between us? This chemistry?"

"What chemistry? We have no chemistry!" Emma exclaimed loudly. "There's only you trying to grab me all the damn time! You still haven't learned that I only like to be touched when I say it's okay! It can't be that hard to understand that."

Hook looked peeved. "You didn't seem to mind when Regina touched you back at the diner," he pointed out resentfully.

Emma stopped and stared, surprised that he'd even noticed. How long had he been watching the two of them? "That was … She was only ... I was ... we're friends, Hook," she stammered.

There was a curious look on Hook's face. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Emma retorted. "We're friends or at least I hope we're getting there again. We just barely managed to talk for the first time in weeks."

"You and the Evil Queen looked downright cozy," he said through gritted teeth.

Emma stared at him. "You said that before, and with that same kind of undertone," she realized. "Is there anything you want to say?"

Hook hesitated for a while, then shook his head.

"All right," Emma sight. "Then why don't you tell me why you lied about writing those letters?"

"Who said I lied?" Hook asked defensively. If Regina had ratted him out, she'd regret it.

"Nobody had to," Emma replied. "It was pretty damn obvious last night that you had nothing in common with whoever wrote them."

"Every single one of those letters is mine," Hook lied. "I might have gotten some help writing them but I told … the person what to write." He almost admitted to having asked Regina for help but he was beginning to suspect the former Evil Queen might have had her own motive for helping him, and he was not about to make it any easier for her by telling Emma that the words she had loved so much had been Regina's.

"So you dictated the letters to the person who wrote them?" Emma asked slowly, doubtfully, having read the lie on his face and in the way his eyes shifted to the left and down. She wondered how long he would try to keep this lie going.

Hook nodded. "Aye, at least more or less."

"So … not word for word perhaps … but everything in them were your words and feelings?" Emma was patiently laying her trap.

Hook thought about that. Even if he suspected that Regina might not have helped him to actually help him, she still got him a date, so the content of the letters was probably safe. "Aye, absolutely," he lied. Again.

Emma could tell. Again. "They were so wonderful, you know," she said softly, purposely gentling her voice. "You know which one I liked the most?"

Hook shook his head with a smile. He almost had her, he could feel it, and now he would also hear what Regina had written in his name.

"I loved the one where you quoted that famous line … the one where you compared me to a summer's day," Emma continued dreamily. "Although I'm not all that temperate most of the time. But it was sweet." She gave Hook a sugary, entirely false smile. "Where was that from again?"

Hook clearly had no idea. "Er … I …"

Gotcha. But Emma simply continued. "Oh, yes … now I remember. It was from the Beatles, wasn't it? I didn't even know you knew the Beatles," Emma continued in an awed voice. If the letters were indeed his words, his ideas, his sentiments … well, then he should know better.

He didn't.

"Beetles?" Hook mouthed when Emma looked away from him to watch the waves roll onto the beach in an almost lazy fashion.

"Hmm, where did you even hear that song? Which one was it again?" she mused aloud still looking out to sea, only watching Hook's squirming from the corner of her eyes. She enjoyed playing with him because he deserved it. "With a Little Help from My Friends? No, no, it was She Loves Me, wasn't it?"

Hook nodded helplessly, completely lost. What had Regina done to his letters? How had insects and shanties made it in there? "I can't quite remember," he said weakly.

Emma whirled around to face him. "You're a fucking liar, Hook," she growled. "None of the letters simply quote someone else's well-known words, not the Beatles and not even Shakespeare. They were all original and beautiful." She pushed a finger into his chest. "But you don't even know who the Beatles or Shakespeare are, right?"

Hook shrugged and attempted a winning smile. "I don't believe I've been introduced to this Shakespeare, no." He wasn't going to mention the insects.

"Listen to me, Hook," Emma said in a low tone. "And listen to me good. You will leave me alone, you will not contact me or Henry, you will not speak to me. Is that clear?"

"But Emma—"

"Is. That. Clear?"

Hook tried again. "Emma, you misjudge me," he said intently. "Yes, I got some help with those letters. And no I wasn't standing over the writer's shoulders the whole time, but they were my idea and the sentiments are true."

Emma laughed. "You have no idea what was in those letters," she pointed out. "So how can you say the sentiments were true?" She shook her head. "I mean it, Hook — whatever you think this ... thing between us is ... was, it's over."

Hook saw the seriousness on Emma's face. "Then I might as well leave this port behind me and head out to sea again," he hissed, hoping the threat of him leaving would change her mind. "And I won't be coming back."

"Fine," Emma shrugged. "If that's what you think you need to do. I can't and won't make you leave town, but I'm also not going to hold you here." She paused, running a hand through her hair with a sigh. "You know, the sad thing is that I think we could have been friends if you could have just gotten over your ego and your obsession and could have just listened when I said no."

"I love you," Hook said. "I could never accept a no as long as I saw a chance with you."

"And that's why this was never going to work."

"But you did like my letters," Hook reminded her, forgetting the slight fact that they weren't his. "You just want them to be from someone else." He paused when his words filled the space between them, settling down in their brains. Hook's look turned calculating. "Why is that, Emma? Why are you looking for reasons that the letters are not mine?"

"Because you didn't write them," Emma insisted. "And yes, I did like them, so why don't you tell me who wrote them, so I can thank them for some really nice letters? Or are you going to stand here and pretend you don't know?"

Hook saw the look in Emma's eyes and knew if she found out that the letters were Regina's, he really wouldn't stand a chance in hell of winning Emma over. Ever. Because he had the horrible suspicion that Emma would be quite happy about that development, and the last thing Hook wanted to do was pave the way for some great romance for the Evil Queen. He sneered at Emma. "Who do you want them to be from, hm?" he asked. "You almost sound as if you have someone specific in mind."

"Even if I did, that's none of your business, Hook," Emma replied but Hook could read the answer on her face. "Who wrote the letters, Hook?"

Hook had as much intention of telling Emma as he had of actually leaving Storybrooke or giving up his pursuit of her, so he just tilted his head with a grin before turning to leave. "Sorry, luv, can't help you there," he called out over his shoulder.

"Can't or won't?" Emma yelled after him but Hook just kept walking away from her. "Thanks for nothing," Emma muttered into the wind before heading back to town.

She felt the sudden need to talk to her mother.