She hadn't been oblivious to Hook playing with her hair after the funeral. She knew everyone could see it, too, and she just … she just didn't have it in her to care that everyone could see.

The last time she'd gone through Neal's death—even though he hadn't actually been dead—she'd relied on Hook for some comfort. It wasn't as obvious, nor was it as explicitly romantic in any way, but it had been comfort all the same. He had been supportive, he'd tried to find the right things to say to her, and he'd distracted her from the pain of losing Neal, and the doubts she had about saving Henry. She'd let him into her life then, and she was doing the same now; it was what she needed. So what if that comfort was a little more romantic than it had been the last time?

And it wasn't as if she had been cheating on Neal. Henry knew their backstory, thanks to Regina's fake memories. She'd have to make sure he understood how she could still be heartbroken at Neal's passing, but she doubted Henry would feel like his mother was betraying his father's memory by finding comfort in the arms of someone else.

And it wasn't as if she was going to sleep with Hook. Or even necessarily kiss him again. She was just taking comfort in the physical proximity of another person, and she appreciated that he seemed to understand that and didn't leave her to initiate. After their last conversation—both in person and over text—she was surprised that he was being so affectionate.

Her overanalyzing of the situation (which, she had to admit, detracted from the comfort it brought her) was interrupted by Henry storming off into his room and shutting the door.

"I need to go talk to him," she told Hook.

"I think that's the lad's way of saying he doesn't want to talk."

"He's my son," she reminded him. "I know what he needs better than you do."

"Or perhaps you just want an excuse to get some distance from me?" he asked. "Water under the bridge, love. That's what you said."

"When did I say that?" she asked, but her phone rang before he could answer. "Excuse me. Hello?"

"Ms. Swan? This is Mayor Mills. Regina," she added, just in case Emma hadn't remembered.

"Regina, hi. I'm sorry, but this isn't the best time."

"Actually, that's why I'm calling," Regina said. She sounded very concerned. "Henry just called me. I understand that he just lost his father."

"Yeah," Emma confirmed. "The funeral was earlier today. He's having a rough time."

"I can imagine. He said some things to me … well, I was wondering if maybe I should come over. If he wants." This was a far cry from the Regina that Henry and Green had been worried about. This sounded more like the Regina whom Emma had grown to know since Neverland. Perhaps she hadn't lost her heart after all? But that was the best explanation for her earlier change in behavior.

"Of course," Emma said. "I'll ask him and give you a call back."

"Thank you," Regina replied. "And I'm sorry, Ms. S—Emma, for your loss."

"Thank you."

After conferring with Henry and calling Regina back, Emma was emotionally spent. Everything just felt like too much: Neal was dead (really dead); she and Henry were no closer to unraveling the mystery of why the town was cursed or what the Wicked Witch wanted; and no one in town was more than just an acquaintance. She remembered when Graham had died, and she'd had Mary Margaret's support, or when Cora had faked Archie's death, and they all mourned together. It felt personal—like no one in town really cared that Neal had died, and they didn't care all that much about Emma or Henry either.

Now, she felt entirely alone in her grief. Everyone who was here was here out of politeness. They weren't grieving with her or Henry—they just felt guilty that she and Henry were alone. That these people were their closest friends and family (well, except Green—she had no idea who he was) and just didn't remember made their presence painful.

She pressed the swan pendant between her fingers. The keychain necklace she'd angrily returned to Neal when she'd found him in Manhattan had been among his possessions given to her by the hospital. She'd momentarily debated over what to do with it—throw it out? Shove it in her jewelry box and forget about it?—before she clasped it around her neck once more. It felt like the only way she could forgive him and close the book on their relationship.

She felt tears rising in her throat at the thought.

"I'm sorry, I think it might be a good time for people to go," she whispered to Mary Margaret.

"Of course," her mother—well, neighbor—replied seriously. "I'll round everyone up." She hugged Emma, which was no small feat given how advanced her pregnancy was. When she pulled away, Emma could read the sincerity in her face. "I'm so sorry, and I'm also sorry that we're still really just strangers. You know you and Henry can come upstairs whenever you'd like, even after the baby comes, even if it's just so you don't have to be alone."

Green patted her shoulder as he came over to say goodbye, and Alex hugged her around her knees (his "Bye, Emma," was muffled by her black slacks). "I'd be happy to handle anything legal for you, if that's something you'd like. Meanwhile, my door is always open for you and your son if you need anything."

David was having a somewhat heated conversation with Mary Margaret over by the door, and Hook took that opportunity to approach her. "Perhaps I should stay," he said nervously. "I don't like the thought of you or your boy alone right now."

"I think we need to be alone," she said firmly. "What just happened … I can't even imagine worse circumstances. Not that there's a right time for any of this."

"If there's anything I've learned from you, love, it's that sometimes, when we most want to be alone, that's when we most need someone's support."

"Listen, I mean it, that I want to be alone. Henry obviously does, too. I'll see you at work on Monday."

He looked confused, and then irritated, as if he was going to insist on continuing the conversation, but David interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. Hook shook his head and stormed out.

"What is with him?" Emma asked. "I just want to be alone for a bit."

"He's upset about Thursday," he said. "And I am, too. Emma, you know he's been trying to stay sober."

"He was drinking?"

"You bought him a drink!"

"Why would I buy a recovering alcoholic a drink? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Are you calling Dylan a liar?"

"I mean, if he says I bought him a drink, then yes! I was at the station all day last Thursday!"

"Which you can't prove," he pointed out. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Listen, Emma, I can't have this kind of drama between my deputies. I think you should take the next week off while I think the situation over."

"You're firing me?" she asked incredulously. "At my son's father's funeral?"

"David," Mary Margaret called from the doorway. Her tone was clearly one of warning.

"I'm not," he said, with the yet left unsaid but implied. "I just think it would be best if you took some time off for now." He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. "And I am really sorry about Neal," he mumbled. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and they both left.

The next day, Henry seemed withdrawn; she suggested a movie—one they'd watched plenty of times before—as a distraction (not The Lion King, though—that would have been a mistake). Green stopped by with Alex to drop off some paperwork for her to fill out; he seemed to want to ask after Regina before thinking better of it and leaving. In the end, his visit ended up spoiling the movie, and they put on discs of Friends instead. Around dinner time, she and Henry picked at some casserole that Mary Margaret had brought over, and Emma's phone buzzed.

Emma? This is Regina—Mayor Mills. I hope it's okay that I'm texting you.

Of course. Is something up? She wasn't sure how to reply.

I hope this isn't too forward, but I was wondering if maybe I could keep Henry company sometime, maybe even tomorrow. lost my father under trying circumstances, so I thought maybe I could help him a little.

I think that would be wonderful. Thank you, Regina.

The next morning, after Regina picked up a very surprised Henry, Emma was about to set aside her magazine and take a long bath when there was another knock on the door.

It was Hook.

"Why are you here?" she asked miserably.

"We have to talk about what happened," he said insistently, pushing past her into the apartment.

"What happened?" she asked, almost slamming the door before remembering that she had neighbors who might mind. "What happened was that I needed space to grieve for my dead loved one, and you got angry at me for it. And," she added with emphasis, "now David wants to fire me because he thinks I plied you with alcohol!"

"But you—he wants to fire you?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "Swan, I didn't ask him to do that."

"Well, he's got your back," she said bitterly. "It's nice to know that I've got so much support in this trying time."

"You kicked me out," he pointed out.

"I wanted privacy!" she retorted. "I didn't want you out of my life! I just wanted some time alone to be sad and not have to manage anyone else."

"I felt the same way," he said angrily. "I wanted to be alone, and you wouldn't let me!"

"When?" she asked. "You said it would be best if I left, and I did."

"On Wednesday," he said.

"Yes, on Wednesday," she agreed. He looked at her expectantly. "So we agree that on Wednesday, I left you alone when you wanted me to."

"Right, but not last Monday or Thursday."

"Okay, you have me on Monday, but I didn't see you Thursday."

"Oh, so I just hallucinated our encounter, did I?"

"Maybe, if you thought you saw me Thursday. I texted you to see if you were okay, but I didn't see you at all."

"So why is it that I have a distinct memory of you coming to the Rabbit Hole, buying me a few drinks, and kissing me with abandon in a men's room stall?"

"I have no idea!" she snapped indignantly. "And I would never make out with you in a bathroom stall!"

"I had one drink before you showed up," he said. "One drink. And then you bought me three more! I am not making this up!"

"But I wasn't there!"

"So what, Swan?" He practically threw himself down on the couch. "So someone who looked and sounded exactly like you and responded to your name showed up at the Rabbit Hole to seduce me?" His face darkened. "It would have to be magic, wouldn't it?"

"I … I suppose," she said, feeling a bit deflated as the realization hit her. This was Storybrooke, and there was a witch on the loose. It was the most likely explanation.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hand. "We've both been attacked by flying monkeys, and my baton vanished before my very eyes. If you really weren't there, but I remember differently, then perhaps we're both right, and there's a supernatural explanation."

"Those aren't the only weird things that have happened."

"What, and the disappearances?"

She shook her head. "Henry thinks that the Wicked Witch took Regina Mills' heart."

He snorted. "I think we'd notice if the mayor were dead with a massive chest wound," he said.

"No, it doesn't work that way," she said. She moved to the couch and sat next to him. "Practitioners of powerful magic, they can tear your heart out without killing you. The heart becomes enchanted." She held her hand in front of her as if she were holding one. "The victim continues living; if they were unconscious when their heart was taken, they might not even know it's gone. The person who holds it can control them with it. They can make you do or say whatever they'd like, or they can crush it and kill you." Tears filled her eyes as she remembered Graham convulsing before dying in her arms.

"And you think Regina's heart is missing?"

She nodded. "Henry and I think so, but it makes sense. When you lose your heart, you stop feeling things as strongly. You can still have emotions, but they're … they're really dull and dim. Regina went from being passionate and fierce to passive and uninterested in the course of a five minute meeting."

"Are you all right, love?" He tentatively touched her back, and she realized she was trembling.

She sighed shakily. "Someone I cared about—someone had taken his heart. I didn't believe him—I didn't know such a thing was possible—I didn't believe in magic. The person who had his heart, she wanted him all to herself, and when he fell for me, she …" She touched the bootlace on her wrist gently. "She killed him."

Hook's arms wrapped around her. "I'm so sorry."

She reciprocated the embrace. "It's okay. I miss him. I feel responsible."

He pulled away. "You didn't force that person to kill your friend," he said. "She had a choice." He frowned, looking ashamed. "I had a choice; I didn't have to drink the other night. I blamed you for enabling me, but it was my choice."

"If it was the witch," Emma said, "I wonder why she was trying to do … whatever. Seduce you," she finished uncomfortably.

"If I may be honest with you," he began, and she nodded when he waited for her expectantly. "I would have gone home with you—or her, I suppose. But she kissed me for a few minutes, thanked me, and left."

"She just wanted to kiss you?"

"I wasn't even that intoxicated, but perhaps she thought I'd need prodding." The look on his face was identical to the one he'd worn in Neverland when he'd admitted his feelings to her in Echo Cave. She knew what he was thinking. Until I met you rang in her head. It was happening again: he was falling hard and fast.

"You barely know me," she whispered.

"Do I?" he asked thoughtfully. "I feel as if I've known you for a long time. There's just … there's just something about you. That night, I thought you'd taken advantage of me, that you were just toying with me. Then, when you let me comfort you after the funeral … I'm so embarrassed by my behavior."

"It's okay," she said quietly. "This witch is messing with all of us."

"What could she possibly want?" he asked; he sounded disappointed with the change in subject.

"Neal told me," she admitted. "Well, sort of. He didn't tell me what her goal was, but he told me what she needed."

"And what is that?"

"Courage, a heart, a brain, and innocence." She shrugged. "I have no idea what innocence would be. Neal said she'd already gotten the brain. I guess Regina's heart is another ingredient."

"My baton," he whispered. "I have to admit that I fought off that monkey quite courageously." He grinned smugly, but his eyes were still filled with confusion and concern.

"That would explain why it disappeared," she agreed. "She took it. It's an ingredient."

"Did Neal happen to mention anything else? Perhaps if we can identify her, we can arrest her."

"He said her name was Zelena," she said. "Arresting her won't stop her, though. She has magic."

"Not Zelena Spiros?" he asked. He sounded very hopeful that he had the wrong Zelena.

"Um, yes," she said. "That's who Regina was meeting with when her heart was taken. Do you know her?"

"Aye," he replied seriously. "She's the midwife Davey and Mary Margaret hired." His eyes widened. "Innocence," he said. "The last ingredient. Innocence. It's the child."

"Oh no," she whispered. "We need to stop her now. That baby is due any day now!"

"How do we stop her if we can't arrest her?" he asked. "I need to tell David."

"And tell him what?" she asked, frustrated. "Listen, do you know where she lives? I can defeat her." The words sounded incredibly silly coming out of her mouth.

"I don't," he said. "David might. How do we defeat her?"

"I, uh …" She blushed. "I have magic."

He was silent for a moment. "Magic."

"Yeah."

"Like, you can …" He held up his hand and waggled his fingers at her comically.

She rolled her eyes and looked around the room. It had been a year since Regina had trained her in any way, and she hadn't gotten any practice since then. But there was a set of unlit candles on the countertop. She pointed to them, and Hook looked over obediently. She closed her eyes and thought about how her magic was going to protect Henry, her parents, and her unborn sibling. She felt Hook stiffen beside her, and when she opened her eyes, the candles were indeed lit.

"Well," he said. "That is definitely something." He looked at her thoughtfully. "So this is why you decided to come here? To defeat the Wicked Witch?"

"Honestly, no," she said. "I didn't know she'd be here."

"Did you come because of Neal?" he asked.

"Sort of."

They were still on the couch, and his arm had wound itself around her shoulder. The lit candles looked silly in the bright morning light that filled the apartment. "Emma," he said seriously. "Emma, why do I feel this way about you?"

"You shouldn't," she said softly. "You had a second chance to avoid making this mistake."

"I don't understand."

"I mean, you should know better than to try to get involved with me," she said, trying to cover for her reference to the past he didn't remember. "There's so much you don't know about me."

"But I like what I do know," he said. "You're a wonderful mother. You still care about the father of your son, even if you weren't romantically involved. You're a competent deputy. And you … you make me feel like I'm not an irredeemable screw-up."

"You're not an irredeemable screw-up," she said gently.

"Well, I'm a one-handed cop with a drinking problem," he admitted. "It's not the finest type of man." He reached up to her face as if to move a strand of hair out of the way, but instead, he caressed her cheek. "Do you see anything in me?"

She did. She saw the man of honor, who prized good form above all else. She saw the man who wanted to stop being a villain and start being a hero. She saw the man who stepped back when Neal was back in the picture, just in case she wanted to rebuild a family with him.

When she leaned in to kiss him, something went terribly wrong.

As their lips touched, she felt suddenly ill. She pulled back immediately, in time to see a green glow fade away from his lips. Initially, he looked completely confused, eyes still hooded from the romantic moment, but then his brow furrowed. "Your lips," he said. "Why did they go green all of a sudden?"

"Yours did, too," she whispered. "Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick."

When she returned from the bathroom, having lost the toast she ate for breakfast, Hook was still on the couch, looking incredibly concerned. "It was green," he said. "It was the witch."

"I think so," she said, grabbing a dish towel and wiping her face with it. "I hate to say it, but I think that was the worst kiss I've ever had." She was relieved that he chuckled. She blew out the candles. "That was really weird," she said, unsure of what else to say. "I have no idea what that did, besides make me ill. Are you feeling okay?" She filled a glass with water; she needed to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth.

"Physically, yes," he replied. He stood and joined her at the counter. "Emotionally? Well, let's just say that I don't appreciate anyone meddling in my love life." He grinned mischievously. "Perhaps the key to defeating the witch is actually the two of us becoming romantically involved, and she's made it so that we can't kiss."

"Then why would she have impersonated me? If she wanted to keep us from getting involved, why go out of her way to create sexual tension? Would you have been as interested in me if she hadn't cornered you at the Rabbit Hole?"

He shrugged. "I think I would have been. I might not have felt so strongly about you so quickly, but I think I was yours from the moment I first saw you in the sheriff's station." He moved closer to her, and she felt her pulse quicken. "Perhaps it was a one time thing, and the next kiss will be safe," he suggested, his voice low and rough.

"You want me to risk throwing up a second time just so you can kiss me again?" she asked skeptically, but he responded by taking her by the waist and doing just that.

This time, she felt only pleasure as he kissed her—and this was the first time he was kissing her, she realized. He pulled her close so that their hips were pressed together, and as he opened his mouth, he used his lips to open hers, deepening the kiss. She felt and heard a tiny moan escape her mouth into his, and she held onto his shirt lapels for dear life.

Had he initiated the kiss in Neverland, maybe she wouldn't have been able to call it a one time thing. It certainly wasn't anymore.

She couldn't believe it; she suspected that she was just playing some sort of movie role, or that maybe she was in the Storybrooke version of The Truman Show, and becoming romantically involved with Captain Hook was a ploy for ratings during sweeps. But it was happening. And she was surprised at just how much she enjoyed it.

Eventually, they took a break for lunch; her stomach had started growling loudly to protest the fact that she'd lost her breakfast. Hook picked up take-out from Granny's (and stopped by the station to maintain the ruse that he was on patrol) while Emma straightened up the apartment to quell her nerves. Her thoughts pinged back and forth between wondering what the witch's magic had done, and wondering what would happen when her fellow deputy returned.

After he came back, they began by eating at the table like adults. But eventually, they ended up partially tangled up on the couch, watching reruns of Bones; they criticized the investigative techniques when they weren't otherwise occupied with light kisses and caresses (or sometimes not-so-light kisses and caresses).

Eventually, Henry texted her to say he was on his way home, and Hook left, promising to talk to David about Zelena. It took several minutes for him to go, though—he kept leaning back in for one more goodbye kiss, and god help her, she kept giving him one last one. When she finally shut the door for good, she had a foolish grin on her face, relieved that he'd left before her son caught them. She'd eventually have to tell him that she and Hook were kind of a thing (they hadn't really talked about exactly what kind of thing, but clearly, some kind of thing), but that didn't mean that he needed to see them in the midst of making out like teens.

It was starting to get dark already; Emma longed for the time of year when it would stay light out until eight or nine at night. The darkness was especially oppressive in Maine during the winter. She eyed the candles on the counter and smiled, thinking about how easily Hook had accepted that she could do magic. She willed the candles to light as she moved to turn on a lamp.

The candles remained unlit.

She shook her head—she must be out of practice.

She thought again about how she would use her magic to protect Henry. About how Zelena was going to hurt David and Mary Margaret's baby—her baby sibling! About how Zelena had manipulated Hook. How Neal had died.

The candles remained unlit.

By the time she heard Henry's footsteps outside the apartment door, she'd figured it out.

Hopefully, everyone enjoyed the premiere! I have not had the opportunity to watch it; I don't have cable (any cable, including networks), so I'm waiting till tomorrow night when we can watch on Hulu+ (... right? It's going to be there, RIGHT?).

I'd love to know what you all think of this chapter! I wanted to have it up earlier, but I was out of the house and away from my computer all day.