Hook hiked Mount Ingress and reached the crest just before dusk. He had heard of this spot long ago when he was just learning to navigate. Another midshipman who was from the area used to brag regularly how he could practically touch every star in the all the lands from its apex. So, when Hook inquired about its location at the local tavern, the old woman who ran the place winked knowingly at him and wondered aloud which of the local beauties he would be stargazing with, since its view was the only good reason to seek out the secluded spot. Hook placed his hand over hers, gave it a squeeze, and with scandalous leer asked if she was available. The crone gave him a hearty cackle and directions instead. Although, she did send him off with some bread, cheese, and an extra canteen of water for "getting her blood pumping again."
One lonely tree stood in the otherwise grassy heights, and Hook kept it company, sitting back against the thick knotted trunk between some roots that reached out well past the end of his shoes as he stretched his tired legs. As the sun continued its descent behind a mountain range far off in the distance, the sky alighted with golds and purples and pinks to rival any sunset he'd witnessed at sea. The few leaves still clinging to the branches above threw their last shadows at the vibrant twilight, and Hook was reminded of a kaleidoscope Milah once stole from a merchant ship hoping to give to Bae one day. All was serene with only the occasional gust of wind rustling the dry leaves or the hoot of an owl about to take flight for his evening meal. Hook breathed deeply, exhaled loudly, and felt the weight of the past months fall away.
As the first stars began to dot the deepening indigo sky, Hook patted down his pockets for probably the thousandth time, making sure he had forgotten nothing. He felt the now familiar lumps of the bottle and scroll Regina gave him, heard the crinkle of the map of New York City and Neal's address in another, and was reassured at the shape of his hook carefully concealed where no one was likely to find it. He was sure greeting Emma with his hook attached was a death wish, so he wore his fake hand instead. He left the Jolly Roger under Smee's command and warned him in no uncertain terms that his absence from the ship was not a permanent condition. He was as ready as he would ever be, and with the curse coming very soon, this was the last opportunity he'd have to reach Emma and save her family before he was pulled into the curse, too, and all was lost.
A chill began to seep into Hook's bones as full night settled in and he was finally presented with a horizon full of glittering possibility. His old comrade was right about everything—and for a brief moment, as the vastness of the starry skies practically touched down around him, Hook wondered what wishes were attached to all those other stars and if they would ever be realized by those who needed them. He felt incredibly fortunate to have found his, and he searched the heavens until he located it. He grinned up in welcome at his own personal portal, his gaze never venturing from it.
Tink encouraged him to have faith in his love for Emma for his wish to work. He knew he couldn't worry about Emma's feelings—only his own. Right then, she didn't have any feelings for him she could remember so he would have to love enough for both of them. His star shimmered before him and he thought of Emma—not what she looked like or even how it felt to touch or kiss her.
He thought about how they were two halves of a whole—open books unto each other. The only person who truly understood him, his flaws, and how to transform them into strengths. He was the one person who stood and will continue to stand by her no matter what and without question. He was the one to transcend realms for her. She was the only other person in any land who can make him a better person, make him grateful for every wretched thing that'd happened in his life only because it brought her to him. On some level he was even thankful for the evil Regina and Rumplestiltskin perpetrated. Without their machinations, he would never have had cause to know Emma Swan and probably would have died a long time ago—a broken man without any hope of his own happy ending.
He thought of all the ways he will be there for her in the future—friend, lover, partner, confidant, home. Hook felt his love not just for her, but for everything and everyone she held dear—her parents, her friends, Henry. He marveled at the notion that those she considered family had become that to him as well, even in her absence. Emma gave him this gift, this chance to belong, and he would give his last breath to repay her for being not just their Savior, but his. She was all he wanted in this, or any world. The last thing he saw before his eyes drifted shut was his star—the heart of the swan—and upon it, with every part of him, he made his wish.
"Emma…"
He stands in a dimly lit room unlike any other place he's visited in his life or dreams. Emma is there with him, moving around in the galley just opposite him. She is wearing a form-fitting red dress that accentuates the curves and planes of her body in a way he's never had the pleasure of seeing before. Even her hair is different in the way it cascades in large waves over her shoulders and down her back. His brain seems to disconnect from the rest of his body and he has to remind himself to breathe. His instinct to touch her is interrupted when she pulls a box from a plain, white bag she is holding, then places it on the counter between them.
He looks at it, then at her, confusion evident in his eyes. "Emma? Where are we, lass? I don't believe I've ever been here before."
"You haven't," she responds. She looks around the starkly furnished apartment, unpacked boxes littering the edges of the room and adds, "This was my place in Boston before Henry showed up and brought me to Storybrooke."
She opens the lid of the box, then pulls out a confectionary—a small cake with a mound of something white and fluffy atop it. She gives it a sniff and beams. "It's my birthday. Care to join me?"
Emma picks out a blue star candle from a brightly colored assortment and sticks it in the center of the cake, and when she lights it, her face glows not just from the flame, but something more. Hook watches, mesmerized by her.
"The night Henry came to me," she starts with a wistful smile, "Right before he knocked on my door, I wished that I didn't have to be alone on my birthday. Funny, huh? Who knew a little star birthday candle from the 7-11 could make wishes come true?"
Looking up at him, her smile changes to one of hope and anticipation. It's a look he wants to see in person and not just in a dream...or whatever this is. Emma reaches over and takes his hand, twining her fingers with his. He leans over, putting his arms on the countertop, the candle burning brightly between them. Hook can feel a small measure of warmth from the flame as he looks into her eyes with wonder.
"So, Killian Jones, what should we wish for?"
He gives her a lopsided grin and squeezes her fingers. "Love," he says simply.
Emma nods and rubs her thumb over his hand. "Love it is," she agrees. She leans even closer until she's a hair's breadth away from him. "A kiss...for luck," she whispers, then softly presses her lips to his, which starts a wave of warmth radiating from his heart and spreading throughout his body. Emma moves back to give him some space, and gestures toward the candle. "Now blow it out or this won't work."
"As you wish," Hook says, then inhales. He locks eyes with Emma one last time and then blows out the candle, leaving him in darkness.
When he opens his eyes again, Hook is uncertain if he is still dreaming. He is most definitely not on Mount Ingress, nor is he in Emma's old dwelling, or in Storybrooke, for that matter. He remembers the cacophonous sounds of New York City from his last "visit" and thinks he can make them out, muffled though they are, from inside the building he is currently standing in. The overcrowded approach to housing definitely feels familiar.
The door in front of him has large yellow numbers on it reading "311." He can just make out sounds behind it—banging pans and clinking cutlery and music. He thinks he can hear a young boy and woman talking, yet he fears it is just what he wants to hear and not reality. But he has to believe it's Emma and Henry or he is lost. Gathering his courage and swallowing all his doubts, Hook knocks briskly on the door. No one approaches, but he hears faint murmuring in response. Still, he waits. It only takes him another second to decide to knock again, this time louder and with more urgency. He really has no time to waste, and if it turns out he's wrong, he needs to move on and find Emma somewhere in this infernally large city.
This time he hears the music stop abruptly and the light tread of footsteps coming toward the door. He takes a deep breath as the doorknob turns. He sends one last plea to whatever entity might be listening for Emma to be the one on the other side of the door. When it opens and it is, indeed, his sleep tousled Swan facing him, Hook tries to temper his elation and restrains himself from gathering her up in his arms and swinging her about in celebration.
"Swan..." Hook breathes, face lighting up at the realness of her there in front of him. It's been too long. Her jaw drops and he prays against reason it is because she recognizes him and everything it took to get to her. He takes a step toward her and proclaims, "At last..."
She blocks him with her open hand and asks with genuine confusion, "Do I know you?"
Her question cuts sharply through him, severing all hope that the sheer fact he is standing there before her is enough to jog her memories of him, her family. He feels panic begin to gather and push thoughts in and out of his head of how best to explain all she is needed for. Paused in her doorway, Hook is determined to get through to her even though any plan he may have had was lost the moment he gazed upon her. "Look, I need your help. Something's happened. Something terrible. Your family is in trouble," he warns.
She looks at him skeptically, her voice hard. "My family's right here. Who are you?"
All the roles Hook has been and hopes to be for Emma run through his brain at lightning speed, but the best description he can come up with that doesn't bring with it the possibility of her immediately slamming the door in his face is, "An old friend." There, that works—the door is still open. But it's not enough and he needs her to know him. Now. Waiting for her to trust him enough to drink Regina's potion could take another lifetime, knowing Emma as he does. Desperation helps him recall that drunken evening before he left on this journey, as well as Rumple's assertion that true love can break any curse. Successfully wishing on a star to cross realms for the woman he loves—his heart's desire—proves that this is true love at its purest. Right?
She narrows her eyes at him, and for a fleeting second he wonders if she's trying to decide if he's lying to her. No matter. He knows he's not, and in a second or two, she will, too. "I know you can't remember me," he confesses, "but I can make you."
Hook shuffles into her space and aligns himself so he can reach out to cradle her head, gently holding her to him as he has done one other time. Her lips under his are everything he's been dreaming of these lonely months without her—soft and warm, responsi—
Blinding pain shoots up from his groin and seizes his heart as Emma knees him and pushes him out of the doorway. Hook groans and curls in on himself trying to shorten the route of the pain, all the while trying not to vomit as he slams into the wall. Swallowing down the burning feeling that is coursing through his nerves and making him wonder if children will ever be a possibility in his future, Hook struggles to right himself so he can try once again to convince her to at least listen to him.
Emma pants as she clutches the door, steadying herself. "The hell are you doing?!" she gasps in surprise.
Hook grimaces not just at the spasms still racking him, but at his hubris. "A long shot. I had to try. I was hoping you felt as I did," he tries to explain.
"All you're gonna feel is the handcuffs when I call the cops," Emma retorts with a finality Hook dreads. Through the haze of his agony, he knows it's not long before she will shut him out. He stands as best as he can and holds up his hand, stopping her momentarily.
He pleads with her, his desperation laid bare for her to see. "Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me! You have to remem—"
Before he can finish his sentence, Emma slams the door in his face. Hook winces and leans over, still trying to control the chaos inside his body and mind. This was far from the reunion he'd hoped—nay, wished—for, but somehow, knowing Emma, he's not surprised. But the time for malingering is over, and if Killian Jones is going to convince Emma Swan of her true self and save her family, it is time to rise to the challenge...because she is the challenge he loves most in all the lands.
Author's Note:
Ingress is another word for portal.