A/N: Alrighty. Chapter ten! About halfway through what I have planned for this fic, but I'm not committing to anything just yet in case things change lol. I'm so so glad to see you all loved Hook's intro. I've gotten a little behind in my replies to you all, but I hope to be caught up before the next update ^_^ This is gonna get a little more into it, Hook's identity being revealed and Emma realizing just who the heck this is, some more ghosty goodness, and a new proposition muahaha. Also, please don't skin me alive if the translations aren't right on this lol. Sometimes Google is your friend, sometimes it's not. I hope you guys like it and thank you so much for reading! And thank you thank you thank you to kmomof4 who is an AMAZING beta and to courtorderedcake who is the creator of the gorgeous banner you see at the beginning of each chapter! Enjoy Chapter 10!

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Emma groaned as consciousness returned to her, her vision slightly fuzzy around the edges and the back of her head throbbing. Her ass was cold and numb, the concrete floor beneath her unforgiving. She tried to bring her hand up to cup the sensitive area of her head and realized she was restrained. Her senses immediately went on high alert as she assessed the situation. She looked around the room and realized she was still in Hook's compound, the thick steel walls of the room she was in being a dead giveaway. She looked up as much as she could and saw that she was tied to some sort of large support beam in the center of the space, with rope, if the rough material currently rubbing her wrists raw was anything to go by. Her arms were almost stretched to the limit behind her back, giving her very little room to work with.

Fucking savages, she grumbled in her head as she pressed her shoulders back into the beam and slid upwards to standing and surveyed the room for anything that might have helped her. How long had she been out? Oh fuck, Jefferson, she thought frantically. She listened carefully for the sounds of sirens or footsteps and heard nothing. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing just yet. There was a small desk near the wall to her right, her pack laying open on it, all the contents splayed out over the metal surface (including that stupid device), and a ratty looking couch to her left. There were no windows and a single door from her vantage point. She tried to rotate herself around the beam, but her aching shoulders wouldn't allow the strain without dislocating themselves.

She let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, you've really gotten yourself in some shit this time, Emma," she said to herself out loud. She tried her wrists again, attempting to catch the rope on the square corners without luck. Her head dropped in defeat and she winced, her skull throbbing with the movement. She probably had a concussion. Scratch that, she definitely had a concussion if she'd been knocked out. She blew an errant strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. And then, because she just had the worst luck in the world, a buzzing began in the back of her consciousness and floral perfume invaded her senses.

She laughed out loud, because if she didn't, she just might cry at Milah's consistently inopportune timing.

"Come to see me off?" she muttered aloud, a bitter humor in her voice.

Here to help, Milah murmured inside her head and Emma scoffed harshly.

"Oh yeah, if you could go get some help, that would be fan-fucking-tastic," she bit out, knowing there was no way the spirit could assist her in this predicament. Milah didn't reply with words and Emma was almost glad for it, except for when her vision started to fill with the letters she had come to dread. "Are you kidding me right now? How am I supposed to help you with your boyfriend while I'm strapped to a steel beam?" She was angry now. She was going to give up the search for Killian Jones altogether after she got out of this. If she got out of this. There had to be some kind of cleansing voodoo she could do to make this all just stop.

He's coming…

Milah's voice startled her from her musings and she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. She knew she would be in better shape if she was calm.

"Who is? Who's coming?" she asked, her tone insistent, the sound of a heavy door opening behind her as the words left her mouth. Jasmine surged around her again and she shook her head.

Dammit, Milah, not now.

"Chatting with yourself, darling? That bonk to the noggin must have been harder than I thought," a warm English baritone said just out of her purview.

Hook, she thought with distaste. His voice was impossible not to remember. She tried to turn her head around to see the source, but of course, it was useless.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not nice to hit girls?" she said through gritted teeth, hands pulling at her bonds again.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's not nice to take things that don't belong to you?" he quipped back, rifling through something noisily behind her before slamming something shut, a metal drawer, she assumed, but she had no idea what it went to.

"Haven't got one," she said flippantly. "Don't suppose I could talk you into a bathroom break, could I?" She shifted on her feet, widening her stance with a little bounce to indicate a pressing need from her bladder, even if it (surprisingly) didn't exist. If she had to, maybe she could kick out and keep him at bay until she found something to free herself. Maybe he'd drop that buck knife he'd threatened her with before. Wishful thinking. Footsteps closed in on her from behind, setting her on edge again.

"Perhaps after you've answered some questions, love," he murmured next to her ear. She jerked away from the sound, trying to whip her head around to see his face, but he was already walking past her to the desk she'd seen earlier, left arm cradled in front of him like he was carrying something.

She watched him as he moved, his back to her the entire time, and he seemed so… familiar. Like she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn't place him without seeing his face. He was fairly tall, well dressed in a long sleeve collared shirt, black waistcoat, and slacks, with dark hair that looked intentionally messy on top of his head. Nylon straps that appeared to be for some kind of holster criss crossed over his back, and more of the same material led down his upper left arm, a thin metal cable running alongside them and disappearing around his front.

He dropped a few items on the table, a clipboard with paper attached, that humongous knife, a binder, and… was that a fucking taser?! Emma's heart rate resumed its galloping pace as her eyes stayed fixed on the weapons he had laid out. Until he turned around and her heart stopped altogether as she found herself looking directly into a pair of vibrant blue eyes that she would have recognized anywhere. Milah, it seemed, recognized them as well, and chose that moment to make her reappearance because a blinding pain hit Emma in the temple, thankfully for only a brief moment, as a voice practically screamed in her head.

SAVE HIM.

Killian Jones.

Emma would have laughed if she wasn't so stricken.

"You're real," she breathed before her brain caught up with her mouth and he quirked a dark brow at the utterance. "Uh, real...ly gonna regret this." Great Emma, piss off the guy with a taser and a knife while you're tied up. You're a goddamn genius, she thought to herself.

Won't hurt you, Milah whispered and Emma had to suppress a snort.

Hook continued to regard her with quiet intensity, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue eyes, making them almost sparkle.

"I'm not sure if your employer made you aware of the perils of your little visit to my establishment," he began, walking around the desk and back to stand face to face with her. "Or maybe he did and you're just a fool." He stopped and looked at her again. "You don't look like a fool. Maybe a little naive."

"Buddy, I have no idea who you are or what this place is. It was locked down like you were hiding the Hope Diamond, so I figured there would be something in here that could keep me from sleeping in my car another night." She shrugged as much she could within her bonds, but it ended up being more of a head tilt. She looked him over again now from the front. The blue button down he wore complimented the shade of his eyes. There were dark circles underneath them as if he hadn't slept in days. His sleeves were rolled up at the elbows, a tattoo on his forearm of a heart and some script she couldn't quite make out on the right arm, and a prosthetic in place on the left. Instead of a false hand, there was a two pronged hook at the end of it, and Emma now knew where the moniker came from. The hook opened and closed with the movement of his arm, making him seem even more menacing.

He chuckled low in his throat, drawing her attention back to his face, his mouth twisting in a wry smile.

"Do not lie to me, darling," he said darkly. "It will not bode well for you." He walked back to the table and picked up the knife. Emma swallowed thickly.

"Look, I'm just a nobody, I really don't want any trouble-" she blurted, and the scent of floral perfume made her head swim.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" he roared and slammed the knife into the desk, piercing straight through the thin metal flat top, a horrible screeching sound erupting from the clash. His face was twisted into a snarl, chest heaving as he drew breath, eyes glittering with rage. A thought ran through Emma's mind that this might be how she dies.

The low buzzing that had been present before grew exponentially and a swarm of words attacked her consciousness; she wasn't sure all of them were even English.

KILLIAN, STOP, AGRÀ, PLEASE, LOVE, HELP, KILLIAN, KILLIAN, KILLIAN

"Milah, shut up!" she yelled and Killian froze, his shock widened eyes flashing to her face. Emma paled as she realized that she'd used the spirit's name out loud. Milah quieted, but the sweet perfume was still burning her olfactory senses.

Jones stared at her for a long moment before he snapped, wrenching the knife free from the hole in the desk it had created. He was on her in a second, pressing the knife hard against her throat.

"How do you know that name?" he growled, his voice broken and raw. Emma's eyes squeezed shut and she tried to turn her head away from him but he pressed the blade tighter to her skin. "How?" he demanded.

"I'm a medium!" she blurted before she could think. The pressure at her throat drew back slightly and she opened her eyes slowly, chancing a look at him. He was looking at her in sheer disbelief, unable to even form a reply. "I know I sound crazy, but it's true. I bought a shirt, Milah made contact and she's, uh, kinda stuck around ever since."

Hook lowered the knife and stared at her. His eyes brightened for a moment like he'd thought of something before settling back into fury. He hooked the edge of his prosthetic into the fabric at his elbow on the opposite arm, pulling at it with sharp little yanks down his forearm to cover his tattoo, his blazing eyes glued to hers. Before he could cover it completely, she saw the writing. Milah.

"You are observant, I'll give you that." He laughed, a bitter sound. Emma felt panic rise up like bile in her blood as she followed his train of thought. "But the whole 'I see dead people' act," he sucked his cheeks audibly and bobbed his head from side to side, "it's a little 1999, don't you think?"

"Ahhh ha…" she let out a nervous laugh. "That's a good one. But I'm being completely serious. You're… actually the first person I've ever told that to." Her forehead wrinkled in confusion at her own actions as she said it out loud and Milah's scent rose gently around her, reminding Emma of her presence.

"Oh, well then I guess that makes me special," he scoffed.

"Okay. Okay. I need you to let me say all of this before you fly off the handle again, okay?" she coaxed. He looked like he was torn between holding on to his rage and actually listening. Slowly, he nodded for her to continue. Emma's knees almost gave out in relief. She clenched her jaw as the sag of her body pulled her bound muscles tighter, straightening herself back up almost immediately.

"Alright. So, you were right before. I lied. I was sent here to steal something from you. I owe a really powerful guy a really big debt, and this is penance. I don't know what that thing is or why he wants it, I swear," she said, holding eye contact with him the whole time she spoke. His gaze was hardening against her rapidly. She needed to bring him back. "But I am telling you the truth now. I talk to Milah nearly every day." Her words had the opposite effect she had hoped for and his lip curled upwards, the only warning she got before the knife edged pressed against the skin under her jaw once more.

"Why the bloody hell should I believe you?" he snarled, and she felt the skin finally break under the edge of the knife, a rivulet of blood trailing down her throat.

Agrà, please, Milah whispered again. Emma's eyes widened in realization of how she could make him believe her (and possibly save her life).

"Agrà! She says Agrà!" Emma nearly shouted.

Hook froze and his eyes flooded with pain and nostalgia. He recognized the word. He wanted to believe. Emma just had to hope it was enough. That hope grew as he withdrew the knife and walked away from her, apparently weighing his options. She held her breath as he paced, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Once he'd made his decision, he turned back to face her, marching past her without a word and Emma tensed, wondering what he was about to do.

"The fact that you know her name and her mannerisms only solidifies your connection to Gold," he said behind her and Emma felt like she was going to throw up. He was certainly going to kill her now. "Luckily for you, I am of a… magnanimous inclination today," he continued, taking her by absolute surprise. Her shoulders jerked painfully against the post as he sliced the rope around her wrists and she was freed.

"You're going to let me go?" she asked carefully, rubbing her tender wrists with her hands and rolling her stiff shoulders. She watched him like a hawk as he came back into view.

"Oh, aye," he said, but Emma remained cautious. "I find you're more useful to me alive than dead. But you're going to do something for me."

Emma's heart dropped into her stomach.

"I have something that I'm in need of that Gold has possession of. No one on his side has ever been brave enough to cross him, but you're different. I can tell," he said moving to fetch the binder from the desk.

"Okay, we can talk about that, but I have to get in touch with my contact. Or he's gonna send a ton of guys in here. He's kinda protective of me," she said. She was surprised the place hadn't been raided already. Hook thought for a moment, then nodded, digging a cell phone from his pocket and tossing it to her. She bobbled it a few times, not expecting the throw, before it landed safely in her hands. She dialed Jefferson immediately on the safe line.

"Speaker," he instructed as it began to ring and Emma complied immediately, not wanting to further incense him.

"Hello?" Jefferson's voice rang out after just a few rings.

"Hey, Chapelle, it's Swan," she said, using their code names to signal someone was listening. Hook was watching with dark intensity as she spoke.

"Holy shit, Emma, thank God. Are you okay? It's been three hours, I was about to send in the cavalry," he replied and Emma's stomach dropped to her feet at that thought. Keeping her composure, she only shot a look at Killian that said 'told you so', to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little hold up in the plan," she admitted and Hook held a finger to his lips, indicating she wasn't to tell her contact about him or his plan to flip her. She'd just have to fill him in later. "I almost had the device, but I had to hide because I almost got caught. I'm gonna lay low where I'm at in my car for the night."

Hook nodded his approval at her lie.

"Which is where?" Jefferson asked, his voice on edge. Emma looked at Hook for guidance and he shrugged, face impassive.

"Uhh, I'm not really sure. I'm near the compound on one of these back roads. I've seen a couple trucks drive by and I didn't want to risk it," she said and Hook's eyes continued to bore into her, surprised and impressed at her ability to think on the fly and she suddenly realized this was a test of sorts.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone? And what's this number you're calling on?" he continued to drill her and Emma groaned.

"It's been off, Chapelle, jeez. Calm down. This is a burner I picked up. Flip phone, easier to carry," she lied again, knowing he was figuring out things weren't right. He already knew someone had to be listening, and she was sure he was just making things believable, but he needed to ease up on the twenty questions. "I gotta go, I don't want this light to give away my position. I'll call you in the morning. I'm gonna ditch this phone, too, in case they're tracking calls nearby."

"God dammit, Swan, I knew something like this was going to happen. Shoulda never let you go alone," he replied and Emma sighed heavily.

"What's done is done, I'm really okay, I'll call you in the morning and I'll continue to scope for another opening back in," she said, hoping to buy herself a little more time with Hook the next day so they could lay out a plan of action.

"No, you come back to Wonderland as soon as you get the chance, you hear me?" he said. She should've known he'd never go for it. Hook looked at her curiously when Wonderland was mentioned. She motioned for a pen and paper and he slid her the clipboard. She wrote the words "home base" on it and Hook nodded in understanding.

"Alright, Chapelle. As soon as I can, roger that." She was getting frustrated but she knew she couldn't get out of this so easily.

"Talk to you soon," he said and promptly ended the call. Emma blew out a heavy breath.

"Well, love. Looks like we'd better get started," Hook said after a moment, plucking the phone from her hand.

Jasmine still swirled in the air that only she could smell and Emma knew this was going to either go very well or very badly. It was a chance she was going to have to take.