Note: GUEST reviewers, please have the courtesy to at least make up a name, will you? Just using "Guest" is lazy as fuck.
General Note: Sorry that it has been forever since I updated, and this is only a snippet of what I had intended to post by now. Life has been a pain in the ass of late between medical issues, car problems, the holidays, and my old nemesis Insomnia returning with a vengeance the past couple of months, all to make life a hectic mess. I've just wanted to zonk out in front of the TV rather than write, but I managed to get this interlude finished. It's short and is mostly a lot of Emma venting my frustrations (and a few tumblr posters' frustrations) with the warped morality of the show. The next chapter will have more plot and action, I promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RUN AWAY!
...and then spat her back out.
Ethereal dust-motes floated down like snow from a cloudless sky illuminated by an unseen sun in a dream replica of what was, presumably, The Enchanted Forest. There was a particular smell to the flora that Emma recognized from her six week camping trip years ago and from Anna's sense memories that she shared, if not quite so distinctly, of her trips to the past and to Camelot - and a more equally shared experience in Rumplestiltskin's dreamscape that came with the particular additional magical tingle of being in this dust-motey mirage.
Needless to say, Emma was not happy with the result of either her parents' screwing up their goodie bags or some uncharacteristically deceitful switch-er-oo to combat her refusal to have dreamscape Facetime with Anna. This was not how she wanted to spend her unconscious hours!
There was nothing that stood out as Emma began to walk through the woods. That, at least, was enough to figure that she wasn't inside her own dream.
The only dreams she ever had about this world were of being chased by an orge, falling off a beanstalk to her (almost) death, and finding herself battling Hook alone at Lake Nostos, failing to knock him out, and being raped by the disgusting pirate. Needless to say, that dream in juxtaposition to her sister's sex-related memories (and fantasies) probably meant she needed therapy, but Archie was still on the No Trust list and short of a memory potion to completely erase the past few years of Anna hijacking her life, Emma really didn't see any full-proof solution. And, anyway, that would mean forgetting the good parts of Henry growing up, which wasn't worth it.
As she continued to walk, Emma found not even a rotting peasant hovel or a broken carriage in site. But boring was better than exasperating... which is what her sister's dreams would be. That, and nauseating.
If this was Anna's dream, a version of her sister slutted up Enchanted Forest style would have come dashing out of the undergrowth already, dressed in an overly boobsy corseted peasant dress and pursued by some faceless guardsman who would have caught her and been ripping at her bodice, about to rape her, when suddenly Dream Hook would show up on a black stallion with a big dick, kill them all, and dismount his stead so she could mount his (not especially big in Emma's personal opinion) dick against the nearest tree. Or Emma would have come upon the pair fucking in a Middlemist field. Or reached a harbor and found the two fucking against the wheel of the Jolly Roger. Or happened upon the road to Midas' castle and found them fucking in that conjured engagement ball carriage, Anna with her red skirts over her head and gilded crocodile shoes biting into Hook's pale ass while he enjoyed the discomfort her corset caused in the form of her jiggling, pushed-up boobs.
Honestly, her sister's fantasies were straight out of the trashy romance novels that the prison library where Emma was incarcerated considered educational material - another reason she didn't get her GED. And spent her last pregnancy glaring at cactus and tumbleweeds through a prison fence instead of taking boring walks in the woods... which was apparently her only way to pass the time until the effects of the powder wore off other than sitting in a pile of damp leaves.
Maybe this was Archie's dream. Emma considered that the shrink was entirely boring enough to just dream about walking in the woods. He seemed to do that, randomly walking around with extra cups of coffee in the hopes of blindsiding some recalcitrant patient. The guy was not as sweet or harmless as he pretended to be! Just like Emma's parents or any of the "hero" royals who were the protagonists of their stories. Aurora and Philip had sure turned out to be assholes!
Emma was just glad her only interaction with them was as Sheriff and she hoped that it stayed that way. If something happened to her parents and she got stuck with their "throne", having to do the supreme monarch thing for all their absurdly loyal people, making treaties or whatever with their counterparts from other kingdoms - they'd all be screwed!
That's basically what Anna had told her when the subject came up at their brief reception dinner at Granny's. If their parents got killed while she was away and Emma was in charge, they'd be fucked. It was mean. But it was accurate. Anna... Anna could never be Queen because of the nature of her origin, not by current laws, and she wasn't the kindest and certainly not a compassionate person... but she still had a better head for the game, a personality better suited to all the spot-light-requiring pageantry of royalty in contrast to Emma's preferred place as a wallflower, disappearing into the crowd, one among many instead of the one that the many looked up to. And so the manner of their conceptions hadn't been fair to them or potentially the universe, but that probably wasn't the first time birth order and other particulars robbed a kingdom of the ruler they should have had for the one that got stuck with a job they didn't even want.
Maybe they'd luck out and their parents would live long and healthy lives and then their brother would turn out to be some genius philosopher king type and Emma could abdicate to him. It's not like most people probably even wanted her, a foreign-raised princess with an illegitimate kid, to be their queen. And she 100% didn't want that responsibility. It was too bad Rapunzel didn't get transported to Storybrooke with her mother's casting of the Dark Curse; maybe then she'd have had someone to get a similar perspective from... assuming Alternate Universe Rapunzel had the same fears and hadn't instead grown up to be the villain of her story... like that confusing Enchanted Forest 2.0 mess that was like the telenovela version of fairytales or something.
On that thought, Emma found herself in a clearing with a tower that looked vaguely familiar from a clip-fest of that alternate reality future dumpster fire that Hera had put together. She had a really bad feeling about this...
A scream emanating from the tower's top room caused birds to scatter from the canopy and Emma reached for a gun she didn't have. So, not a dream, but someone's nightmare.
A rope hung from the window, trailing down through scraggily vines against the rough granite blocks.
At the second scream, Emma cursed beneath her breath and began to climb. It was, at least, easier than a beanstalk.
There were more screams as she hauled herself over the window ledge and Emma grabbed the nearest object that could be used as a weapon - a torch from the wall.
Torches and candles lit the edges of the otherwise dark, shadowy space that included a large canopy bed at the far end. It was from inside the covered bed that the screams came, and before Emma could consider physical intervention, the draperies on one side flew open and a blonde, naked woman dashed out followed momentarily by a dark-haired man.
Emma took a step forward, prepared to take a swing, only to freeze at the flash of a hook and the blonde pushing back her messy hair. Any feelings of heroism or indignation were replaced by aggravation and revulsion as Hook pushed his lover down on a fainting couch, hook to her throat, growling, "I told you, when I jabbed you with my sword, you'd feel it. Now, I can make this pleasurable, or you can keep fighting and... well... I'll still find it pleasurable, but you might not enjoy it quite so much. So what's it going to be, Emma?"
That spiked the revulsion factor a couple hundred times and Emma growled, "WHAT THE FUCK!?"
At her outburst, Hook looked up and tumbled off the woman on the couch who didn't react at all, more like someone had turned on her freeze button in some Westworld simulation - indication that the pirate was real and the 'Emma' here was a figment of his sick imagination rather than her sister looking less sickly and involved in some extra kinky shit.
Gulping, Hook responded, "Luv, it's not like that. I was just... working through some issues and-"
"Oh. My. God," Emma hissed. "You are disgusting! I'm glad my sister isn't here right now! Even though I want to acid-wash my brain!"
After a moment of confusion, Hook's eyes widened and then he looked slightly relieved. "Oh, Swan. I thought you were-"
"Your wife walking in on you hijacking your own sick fantasy of raping her sister - also known as me? Put your fucking pants on, you sicko!" Emma pushed back her sleep-disheveled hair, adding, "And I hope I don't look that much like my sister with her anorexic drug addict appearance, even in your 'romantic mood lighting'."
Hook glowered and grabbed a silken robe while responding, "Aye, on second look you have been packing on the winter pounds. And I can't help what my unconscious wants: a more slender, playfully contemptuous version of you whose heart I thought I'd won in Neverland. Unfortunately for the both of us, Swan, I have emotional attachments to those memories that I can't just shrug off. It's bloody complicated! So give me a break! I didn't invite you into my dream!"
"Yeah, well, I didn't intentionally crash it, Hook," Emma told him. "My idea of beauty sleep isn't joining in your emotional attachment to a memory of threatening to rape me and obvious fantasy of following through with that threat. So spare me your complications and how you plan on resolving them."
As she spoke, Emma tore off a panel of the canopy and threw it over the magic-conjured... Emma Bot. Afterward, she observed in disgust, "And my breasts are not that big." Well, usually not that big, anyway.
"You shouldn't have initially presented them in a Wonder Bra then, Swan. Those modern times corset things that lift the bosom trick men into thinking it's all natural. Alas, I'd committed myself to the pursuit prior to the disappointment of your Sports Bra reveal, and as it was then a conquest rather than a courtship, bust size was only to be a temporary disappointment when I got you in my bed in spite of your refusals and then left you wanting more."
"And somehow my sister doesn't consider your 'sex for revenge and spite' motivation a red flag," snorted Emma. "So sorry that I held out long enough that you developed an unhealthy attachment and have to endure Anna's equally small tits, Hook."
"Aye, well, marriage is about compromise," he shrugged. "And your sister says that you weren't intending any trickery. Rather, you suffer some deep insecurity about your body, particularly regarding your bosom, hair, and face."
"As opposed to Anna suffering severe neglect of hers?" Emma scoffed as she examined the tower, avoiding Hook's discarded clothing on the floor... and replicas of her own from their Lake Nostos confrontation that included her old red leather jacket that remained in the back of Anna's closet in Storybrooke-even though her sister had moved on to replacement red jackets with a preference for suede so she probably wouldn't care if Emma took it back...even if it was Anna's utter lack of empathy taking over Emma's guilt at delivering such horrible news to that young woman that prompted her to request a purchase rather than attempting any act of comfort.
Maybe it was better to just leave the jacket where it was, a symbol of some of the worst parts of both of them colliding in a perfect storm that left a woman dead and her daughter unable to ever meet her. She'd worn it to emulate Cleo, having no clue how to make her own persona for a job that she knew nothing about at the start of it. And she'd worn it when she came to Storybrooke because that persona she'd created from her Cleo costume made her feel strong, confident, when she was anything but. She didn't need that now. Or maybe she did. But it was as much associated with Anna now as herself, just her sister for a large portion of the town's late-coming residents, and associations with Anna Jones were generally not positive for improving community relations.
Life was much easier when she didn't have to earn anyone's respect.
"I had a job," Emma finally answered while Hook was rummaging through a cabinet, clearly for booze, "that often required seducing men to haul their asses off to jail and I was just off a job when Henry showed up. The only clothes I had were the ones I wore for the job. Don't tell me you ever enjoyed wearing a fifty pound leather coat and pants on a tropical jungle island. You invented an image and stuck with it. So did I. So anyone I deceived about my breast size I had no intention of ever seeing them."
"Including Regina, I suppose," Hook smirked. "But I can't blame you there, Swan. She has an intimidating bosom. I will say that it's a pity Anna won't dig out your ridiculously thick false lashes that were part of your feminity face-off with the Evil Queen. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all. Nothing wrong with giving them some flattering window dressing."
"As opposed to looking like someone tricked you into using binoculars rimmed with charcoal? And I was not having a 'femininity face-off' with Regina," Emma rolled her eyes. Well, maybe she was. A feminine power face-off. And Regina did have intimidating tits and perfectly quaffed and manicured everything that she'd tried to emulate in her own style to show that she wasn't any ugly duckling anymore, she was a tough-ass swan. But she wasn't going to give Hook any credit there.
"Agree to disagree," retorted Hook while finishing his sniffing of different bottles. "You might consider your old lashes as well, Swan. A far better frame than those... how did Anna describe the? Nerdy spectacles, which I assume you're still attached to the way you're squinting at those book spines."
Emma stepped back from the book shelf of nautical-themed tones and responded, "I'm squinting because it's dark in here. And I like my glasses. You try wearing contacts when the wind chill is twenty-five bellow. I'm lucky I didn't freeze my eyeballs that first winter in town and it was unusually mild. I'm perfectly fine keeping my soul windows behind plastic and anyone who thinks looking 'nerdy' isn't befitting of being a princess can suck it."
"I believe the point," said Hook, "is that any available princess are less likely to suck anything of yours if you look like Granny's accountant."
"I have yet to meet a prince who isn't a doofus or a chauvinist prick," Emma stated, "so I'm perfectly fine with that."
Hook let out a suffering sigh and sloshed a bottle's contents, telling her, "At least burn that coat. It makes you look like a very large, mangy rat. Present from your mother?"
Emma glared, admitting an annoyed, "Christmas present. There's a blizzard. It's warm."
"If you say so," shrugged Hook before taking a swallow. "But I'm telling you, Swan. flannel and spectacles are not what you'd call pleasing to the eye. But then, perhaps your sister is right that they're your ugly disguise because you've spent your life hiding, whether behind some specs and leather or in tight dresses and curls to impress criminals and large-breasted evil queens."
"Thank you for your pop psychoanalysis and beauty tips. I'm sure there's nothing to read into your leather, lace, and eyeliner fetish," snorted Emma, moving to a window to look out at the now dark sky and continually drifting and now eerily illuminated dust-motes. "How long does this shit usually last?"
"A few hours? Time moves differently here. Hard to say. Rum?" Hook offered.
"I'd rather drink antifreeze," Emma retorted, amending, "Thanks for getting my sister addicted to that shit, by the way, and turning her into an even less functional alcoholic than you."
"Perhaps you should have tried your subliminal influence with something more palatable than water to cure the habit." He downed a gulp. "Lasted about a week."
"Longer than my delusion that you might have actually had a selfless thought," snorted Emma.
Hook groaned, took another swallow of rum, and demanded, "What are youeven doing here, Swan? I thought you had some blizzard to contend with? You obviously have no inclination to parlay with me..." he concluded, putting a leering influence on the term.
"Is that how you asked Blackbeard for your ship back?" Emma quipped. "Did he jab you in your pirate booty with his sword?"
Hook glared. Emma answered, "I told you, it wasn't intentional. There's a storm shelter at the Town Hall. My mother's been trying to contact my sister, apparently using that powder shit in her eyedrops, and my father handed out our bags of supplies. Which is really ruining my plans to have dreams that don't include you raping me in what looks a lot like your fat drunk Wish Realm self's rape tower from that most fucked up paradoxes that almost destroyed existence blooper reel the gods had."
Hook let out a sigh, answering, "Seems some kind of unconscious holdover that has, rather annoyingly, replaced both my ship and that beanstalk since the whole near-ending of the worlds thing. It's getting rather monotonous, really. Far less comfortable than my ship, far less adventurous than a giant's castle. Some echo of that bygone realm, I suppose, that will hopefully fade with time.
"And my Wish Realm self was not fat," he concluded.
"Please, you saw the whole stupid mess with him using your blood to get young and try to get my ass - which was really my sister's ass until he found out she was knocked up and grew a conscience for the first time," Emma reminded, arms crossed and adding, "which I'd have appreciated a lot more if you getting my sister pregnant wasn't what lead to me ultimately dying and my son ultimately dying after having you for a stepfather seemingly turning his mother into a slutty doormat obsessed with replacing him with a new baby caused him to run away and grow up and then discovering he was being replaced embark on a stupid quest that turned him into an unbelieving shitty writer and Uber-knock-off driver caught up in a memory-spell love triangle with his inter-dimensional cousin and your double's rapist's daughter while his own grandfather was more concerned with your double and his rape baby and dying to be with his dead wife than him and instead of having his presumed birth mother's help, he got the green bitch who murdered his father as backup."
"That's hardly fair," Hook objected. "That's all unwritten now. And it was all poorly written in the first place because of the overtaxed magic and paradoxes-"
"That you helped create!"
"That Zelena created," Hook insisted, "and would have done whether or not your sister and I took the plunge down her time portal with her. She just used us to do as little work as required herself to change things so that she'd get some version of the happy ending she felt she deserved. Which was also undone by the gods. Can't you at least take some satisfaction out of the whiny nutter being reduced to a magicless, childless spinster?"
"She killed two innocent men, took two children's fathers away from them," Emma stated. Neal's return hardly excused her of that.
"Robin Hood was hardly innocent," Hook rolled his eyes. "He knew who and what Regina was and chose to lay down in that viper's nest even while his supposed wife was dying. He strayed from those vows on the grounds of the passage of time, believing her dead, had chilled his heart to her affection. Then confabulated some vow to Zelena due to her conceiving his child by her deception. The man was hardly as honorable as he liked to believe."
"Seems to be a common theme around here," snorted Emma.
"Aye, well, we weren't all raised with your adoptive world's values, Swan," Hook reminded, falling into a chair by a candelabra that dripped wax onto his sleeve, causing him to jump back to his feet and glare and curse, "I hate these bloody things. I actually have nightmares about the ones Belle infested my ship with coming to life and singing the songs from that damn movie. It's excruciating!"
"Sounds far more entertaining than this dream."
"Oh, sure, until they set everything on fire so you'd also burn to death in this bloody tower," he argued before going back to the original topic.
"We can't be held responsible for things we don't remember happening that technically now have not happened, Swan," he griped. "It's no different than Belle and her candelabras. Am I still miffed that she super-glued the damn things all over my ship, ruining some very expensive antique furniture and pieces of certain sentimental value? Of course. But she was out of her bloody mind at the time, having conversations with the things when not skipping off to the convent to shake babies."
"Which you'd think witnessing would have made you question her mental state and tell someone!" Emma huffed.
"First of all," Hook defended, "I never saw her shake any babies. That was the dreamcatcher captured memory of the convent cat when we were investigating her psychotic Lacy break. And the rest of it-why? Being the Dark One involved having conversations with people not there. I spent centuries with a crew of dimwits and often had to pass the time by having conversations with myself on my plans to sort them all out. Belle's a brainy recluse with no friends. Seemed sensible that she'd just use candlesticks as stand-ins for other intelligent people, what with Storybrooke seeming to have a severe lack of the actual thing. She was a weird, introvert sort who spent years in a tower. Who was I to question that when she agreed to clean my ship in return for room and board?"
"You really are a prick, Hook," snorted Emma. "I'm sorry if I'm not quite so objective about how my family and friends aided in bringing about my death so my curse-broken twin could live my life that everyone thought in the best of all possible happy endings included me turning into an alcoholic insomniac with no individual interests or ambitions beyond being your dick holster and parasite incubator - and by parasite incubator I mean both the syphilis and the kid you could have unleashed on the world. I don't care if you and Anna going back in time with Zelena tainted magic with spiteful, myopic, assholery. I still get to be mad at everyone for giving in to the worst parts of themselves while acting like their shit smelled like those creepy Middlemists. And I definitely get to be mad at you for thinking true love could come from the sick, perverted way you attempted to seduce me."
Hook rolled his eyes. "Your sister believed it! Why should I have questioned a child born of true love? Or that I thought was born of true love? How was I or anyone to know about the whole Evil Twin thing?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe if you hadn't murdered my grandfather so he could have lived to tell the tale of how his bloodline got cursed?" Emma glared. "And then I wouldn't have to endure unintended dream detours into your perverted self raping me on the ugliest couch I have ever seen."
"It's the couch my mother used to lounge on while telling my brother and I stories - and upon which I found her dead from consumption," Hook shrugged. "Something else I am working through."
Emma blinked at the pirate as he downed more rum and shook her head. "Wow, you really do have issues, Hook. Sick, demented issues that require a lot more than mucking around in your head. Speaking of which, if this is your dream, shouldn't your dream self be here doing the raping instead?"
"I knocked him out, tied him up, and locked him in the wardrobe of course," shrugged Hook. "And there's no reason your evening can't still be worthwhile even if this detour into the realm of dreams was unintentional," he amended, sidling over to Emma. "What happens in the Dream Realm stays in the Dream Realm, I always say. So perhaps I can offer a more pleasurable alternative than drooling on your pillow and dreaming of whatever boring, prudish things I can only imagine fill your nights, Swan," he concluded with a leer.
Emma lifted a brow, smiled slightly, then kneed him in the groin.
Hook gasped and crumbled to the floor. "Damn it, Swan! I don't even have the protection of my leathers! And I've spilled my rum!"
"I still found it pleasurable," Emma retorted with a smirk and looked for the most uncomfortable surface - least likely to have been involved in sexual activities - in the tower room. "If you get kicked in the nuts in your dream, do you pee blood when you wake up?"
"Probably! And it was a bloody joke!" Hook wheezed, his voice still a few octaves too high.
"Yeah, well, I don't share my sister's sexual-assault-based sense of humor," she shrugged, settling for a wooden chair at a table full of melting candles.
"It's called 'charm'," Hook defended as he stood back up. "And I take considerable issue with your accusations and inferences about my past dalliances in this reality or any other."
"Yeah, well considering you probably spent most of your life as drunk as the women you got Smee to carry to your quarters and half the population of The Enchanted has probably been sex catfished with magic, I'm not surprised," Emma scoffed. "I'm actually surprised you can even get it up given how old you are and with all those STDs."
Scowling, Hook sat across from her before demanding to know, "Why are you such a salty bitch, Swan?"
"Why are you such a misogynist prick, Hook?" Emma retorted.
"Again," huffed Hook, "I take issue with your description of my character. I am a gentleman pirate. My revenge issues notwithstanding, I am a great lover of women - both literally and figuratively," he concluded, again with a leer that drew an eye-roll from Emma.
"See? That right there. The unwelcome 'flirting'? That leer says 'sexist pig', not 'feminist with a dick'," Emma countered, elbows resting on the tabletop. "It's the banner you've been waving since I pulled you out from under the pile of dead people you helped get murdered and tied you to that tree. And that beanstalk thing you consider a romantic adventure? Where was the romance in that, when my mother and I were deciding who should go up the beanstalk and you wanted us to have a catfight for you?"
Hook rolled his eyes again and insisted, "I was trying to rile you up. And there was romance atop the beanstalk."
"Right, for the wound you bandaged before I could do it myself because you wanted an excuse to get your rum-stinking mouth close to my hand so you could pretend like that was some chivalrous wrist-kissing bullshit," Emma countered. "Maybe that flies in your world, but in mine, you ask a woman before you touch her. That's not chivalrous, it's invasive and creepy. And it's extra creepy when it comes after dropping lines about orphans like you were some hero instead of a dipshit who handed kids over to Pan so he could turn them into his sad-eyed, fucked-up Lost Boys - and that's even without factoring in that one of those kids was my kid's father and your stepson."
"I apologized for that," Hook insisted, sipping his remaining rum with less gusto.
"No, you didn't," Emma objected. "Neal told me what you said, and the only thing you apologized for was a bullshit pussy-grabbing competition that he was never part of, not the hundreds of years being a child-abuse-enabling scumbag."
After a pause, Emma continued, "And speaking of your Neverland, pussy-grabbing-related crap-" She picked up a dusty knife from the table and holding it in a candle flame, "how about when you 'thanked' Neal for being so understanding about your 'dalliance' with me that you A) insinuated was sexual intercourse to make him jealous and demonstrate your dick size and B) was your way of staking a claim to me, which is gross by itself even without adding in that you knew we weren't together because you eavesdropped on us and I'd just thought he was dead? Was that what you call the 'good form' of a gentleman, Hook? Like when you tried to exploit Tink for sex and, when she turned you down, you publicly claimed that something had happened between you to attempt to make me jealous? Or when you pretended to 'let' Neal have a shot at me, but really you were intentionally shoving at me knowing that him acting like you, like an over-entitled asshole, would get him shot down?
"How does 'I'm sorry for letting a woman come between us' actually apologize for any of that," Emma accused, "especially when I was never between either of you, I was just trying to save my son - that you pretended to go after as penance for selling out his father but it was really as you told my father, to get in my pants! So, not only did you treat my wishes as immaterial, and my son as a pawn, you treated Neal - your previous pawn - as having a right to me just because we had a past and both had said we still loved each other and you took pleasure in my father owing you whatever you wanted - that being his daughter, like I was his to give."
"I was trying to rile your father up," Hook argued. "No father likes the idea, at the outset anyway, of his princess being courted by a pirate."
"You were trying to rile him up when he was dying?" Emma scoffed. "More stress, yeah, that's what he needed. You didn't give a shit about his health, at least you were honest about that. And I guess my father is either a better person to forgive you for all the ways in which you've wronged him if you make my sister happy than I am, or he's just got as much concussion damage as my mother. But I don't forgive any of that."
"I already was under that assumption, Swan," sighed Hook. "No need to beat that dead horse until it's glue."
Narrowing her eyes, Emma continued, "Fine, then, not me. How about all the times you repeatedly used Belle as an object to hurt Gold by both physical assault and blackmail? When you stood by ogling her tits while Regina was being tortured? Or that you assaulted Zelena when she was pregnant? Which is fucked up even if they're both murderers and rapists too, because you did it because they're women and it gets you hard. Throw in when you sexually assaulted me in New York to try and jog my memory with mutual true love, and you've clearly got a problem with physical violence against women that you write off as either excused by revenge against their man or necessary because you know better what they need than they do. I don't know what excuse Archie made to not flag you as a misogynist asshole perpetrating an emotionally controlling relationship, but I didn't laugh when you doubled down on the gross factor by making jokes about my pregnant mother being demanding!" she scoffed, picking at her nails with the knife.
"Which was obviously in jest," Hook scoffed. "It amazes me that your parents even figured out how to conceive you, they're so bloody prudish. You take after them, I suppose, outside of your job required seductions. A perk of your sister's existence spawning from a blood curse that she's not similarly afflicted."
Emma snorted. "Please, we both know that Anna's tastes are actually tame compared to what you've done and have convinced her to try to make you happy. It was the Dark One, Nimue in particular, that was into the kinky shit and she's just clinging to the memories of that demon's desires to keep her hubby happy when she actually wants the pearls and picket fences and pretending that she's being the rebellious and free-spirited one by marrying a pirate. Maybe she is. But it's not three-ways and ass-play. I'm sure giving that up, along with the big-titted barmaids irks you. But you get being married to a princess in return for enduring missionary sex when it's not your birthday or Valentine's Day. Speaking of which, this is a very romantic way to spend that holiday with your wife's sister, Hook."
"That holiday only exists in your world, Swan," Hook waved her off.
"Yeah, well, Anna grew up in that world with me and she's gonna be pissed if you've forgotten. I think the holiday is commercialist crap to sell candy and flowers and trade them for blowjobs, but Anna's a romantic," Emma reminded. "One who was probably willing to slut it up for you outside of her comfort zone if you'd given her one of those pink rape roses."
Hook just glowered at her while Emma continued, "But, now that I think about it, my sister technically isn't a princess, is she? Not a legal one, anyway. You'll never be her prince consort. You really did get a raw deal, didn't you? Not what you were stalking, anyway. You can be a hero and fleet admiral of my parents' nonexistent navy, but you'll never be a sex prince."
"If you think that's really what I care about, Swan," growled Hook, "then you don't know me nearly as well as you think. Wading around in your sister's unconscious for a few years hardly gave you as much insight as you think you have."
Shrugging, Emma retorted, "Fine, then, you don't care about titles. Just being the center of attention and getting laid. I don't need Anna's perspective to know you have zero empathy and remorse. And certainly zero respect for women. Maybe you think you do, but you don't understand any of those things.
"You are literally a 'bros before hoes' fuckboy," she told him with a dark smirk, "who wants to be the big strong man and keep women in their place. You told my sister that you thought was me that her 'discomfort was a cross' you would bear because you liked how her tits looked in a corset and that her being competent and saving herself was 'depriving' you of a dashing rescue. You literally said that getting women drunk was your 'usual tactic' in what you thought was a sexual assignation. And on your first date with Anna you told her 'You know how to chase a monster; I know how to plan an evening out,' insulting her social skills and reducing her to a purpose, something you knew I was sensitive about while then pouting like a deprived pervert when she kept turning down your leering attempts to get her drunk that you didn't even pretend weren't intended to get her to sleep with you... or maybe you thought you did and have no idea that constant lascivious sneer you pour on like you think it's charming is actually screaming 'I'm a sexist pig whose only true desire in life is to either fuck you or fuck you over'."
Scowl deepening, Hook defended, "I spent a great deal of my life as a pirate, Swan, and that suitably defines that lifestyle. One cannot expect me to instantly change into a neutered house husband like your father."
Emma refused to let herself snort at that despite slightly agreeing that her father was a bit overly submissive to her mother's whims. 'House husband' wasn't really a good description, because she thought it was great that they shared domestic tasks. It was mostly the always giving into her mother's idiotic plans instead of standing up for his own possibly less idiotic ones.
Emma pointed the soot-stained knife at Hook and returned, "And you bought your girlfriend of three months a house, picked it out without ever asking if she wanted to move in or giving her a say in where she would be living for years - obviously because it was your tactic for getting your woman to commit to your level of codependency. What's even worse, though, is dragging Henry into it. Manipulating him when he thought his mother was the Dark One and that you put more stock in the thoughts of a male child than in a the grown-ass woman you claimed to love.
"But oh," Emma snorted, "when things weren't going your way, you told her that you liked her better when she was damaged and wanted to make her hurt like she hurt you. Just like that whole bullshit with saying you were glad my heart was broken - because that meant you could get your syphilitic hands all over it. And again you used Henry, impersonating him. And you used suicide to get attention. Not to mention you've literally said that women are objects that can be traded back and forth between men, and literally called a woman dirty for having sex; yeah, Milah was a horrible person, but saying you 'sent her back soiled' doesn't say a lot for how you value women even without all the raping shit."
"That's hearsay, Swan," scoffed Hook. "Are you really going to believe anything the Crocodile says?"
Emma rolled her eyes at Hook's nickname. It was so childish. He was just as horrible a person as Rumplestiltskin, if not worse in respect to his treatment of women and children, and had lived just as long, but Gold didn't go around calling him by some petty taunt for "soiling" his wife. Rumplestiltskin was not a pleasant person in Emma's book, and the guy had a lot to redeem himself for, but at least he behaved like a grown-up 99% of the time and that 1% of childishness was reserved for smashing things with his cane when he got angry.
Hook was a manchild 100% of the time, unable to curb petty insults or adolescent expressions when allowed to join in conversations and adventures with grown-ups. Anna wasn't much better, honestly, whatever maturity Emma had managed to invoke gradually fading away, those layers of experience-gained wisdom and how to behave as an adult peeled away by her curse, her lack of direct life experience, and the influence of her utterly immature lover. They were like a high school jock and spoiled rich girl bullies trapped in the bodies of adults... despite Emma being fairly confident that Hook had zero athletic skills and Anna had always been as dirt poor and neglected as Emma... until she curse-acquired an affluent house and got pampered by their parents.
Sighing, Emma finally answered, "No but I am going to believe the camera that Belle had my sister put on your ship to warn her if Gold was snooping around." Arms crossed she continued, "You think a woman betraying her marriage vows makes her unclean, but you make it your mission to seduce women into straying into your bed. Your entire romantic philosophy is based on degrading women, Hook. Or just your life philosophy in general. Getting drunk and making insulting generalizations about women on a regular basis." She buried the tip of the knife in the tabletop. "And you really think you're some kind of gift to womankind. You're delusional."
"I value women," Hook argued. "And I saved many a woman from an unhappy state, even if just for a night. Just because I come from a time with expressions of that which you don't understand does not mean I am not a defender of female empowerment, Swan."
"If that's defined by a consistent pattern of insulting and disrespecting women just because they are women, then sure," Emma scoffed. "I've meet plenty of men from fairy tale worlds and a few from 'your time', which includes a much more competent Dark One than you, who never treated women in such a degrading, objectifying manner. So when you've got twenty-some examples of a man talking women down, acting like they're objects to be traded between men, using them for sex, and making rape jokes and sexual assaults, and you're the only one doing that? That is context.
"And even if the universe that spawned this nightmare doesn't exist anymore," Emma stated emphatically, "I'm still gonna count telling your little pregnant wifey to 'rest' as if she can't figure out what her own body needs. You may call that love, but I call it the dominating side of a creepy codependent obsession. I makes me angry and sad what you've done to my sister. She could have fought her curse. I would have helped her. But the only thing she wanted help with was making you pancakes because the only thing you wanted her to be was your perfect little trophy wife, which being a dipshit yourself, doesn't require being a good person, a loving mother and daughter, or a competent police officer. You encouraged her, by words or by example, to slack off of everything that she got from me, that she could have fought to keep, to try to be what she could be without that curse instead of defined by it."
Shaking her head, Emma concluded, "That's what I hate about you most, Hook. You seduced Anna into being your conscience, into being a reason to get back to whatever delusion you have that you ever were a good person, and the price was she had to give up the goodness in her heart that being part of me protected for our entire lives until you came into them. Maybe she lightened your heart, but she darkened hers in the process. And if you really loved her, you'd let her go, free her from the needy, controlling, weak-willed piece of shit you are so she could figure out for the first time in her life who she is, because no woman should reduce her identity to some guy's fangirl. Anna might not be a savior or a princess, but she should be more than just a pirate's wife. Particularly to a pirate who's the human equivalent of a lampshade in a whorehouse covered in three centuries of diseased jizz."
"Lovely."
Hook sat back in his chair, tipping it to rest his sock-clad feet on the table. "The heart knows beyond magic, even curses, Swan," he defended. "I'd think the 'true love' child of Snow White and Prince Charming would know that. But I suppose you're still as bitchy about that as you were in Neverland. It's no wonder your parents had to 'accidentally' slip you some dream dust to get you to try sleep-chatting with your sister. Or maybe it was just to try to work out all your issues. A pity you ended up spoiling my dream instead.
"But I'll tell Anna that you send your love."
Standing up, he gave her a dismissive wave, "You've out-warn your welcome, Swan. What is it that Zelena likes to say? 'Bye, Felicity'?"
Snorting, Emma retorted, "Bye, Felicia." She stood up as well. "Fine, go back to banging your Emma sex doll on your dead mother's couch, Hook. I'd rather spend the rest of this nightmare sitting on a pile of moldy leaves and pine needles than continuing this conversation."
Getting up herself, Emma headed back toward the window to endure a climb down the rope and vines. But as she reached it, a dragon swooped into view, barreling right toward the tower. Reversing course, Emma threw herself toward Hook.
Of course, he gave her a surprised and leering, "Had a change of he-"
But was cut off by a screeching roar before a blast of fire shot through the window, setting both the bed and couch on fire, and just missing them as they tumbled into the locked door of the wardrobe.
"Hook, why is there a dragon in your depraved sex dream?" Emma demanded.
Said dragon bashed its snout through the roof, shattering wood beams and masonry.
"How the hell should I know?" Hook snapped.
"Well, unless we wake up in the next few seconds we need to find a way out of here! I'm pretty sure dying in this place is not a good thing!"
"Aye, I'd rather avoid finding out how angry the Netherworld wraiths are at having lost Prince Philip's tasty soul," Hook agreed with a grimace in the direction of the window that was now occupied by a large pair of dragon balls, the stabbing of which would likely not aid in their escape. "But the bloody thing is a copy of that alternate reality witch's tower. Being a witch, she didn't require stairs. You're the one with magic, Swan!"
"Not in your dream, Hook! Imagine up some stairs before this becomes the burning red room!"
The pirate didn't seem impressed with that logic, but shut his eyes and presumably thought hard on the image of stairs while the dragon got its head in enough to start munching on the fake Emma in gory gustatory satisfaction.
"HOOK!"
"I'M TRYING!"
Finally, the floor in the middle of the tower rippled and an opening with a spiral staircase appeared. They wasted no time in sprinting down them... a good thing as the stairs began to disappear as they went, almost catching up with them before Hook was able to image a door to keep them from being merged with granite blocks.
Outside they continued to run, seeking cover in the thick undergrowth of the surrounding forest. Once they had made it a good distance into the woods, Hook remarked, "You smell like a burnt squirrel, Swan. So I stand corrected on the 'rat' remark. Your mother must have been cheated by a cheap coat-maker. Or she just lied and got you a cheap coat. But that's definitely the scent of crispy squirrel. Had to eat an unfortunate lot of those as a land pirate."
"As opposed to the lot of rats you ate as a sea pirate?" Emma quipped.
"That was only a few times in Neverland," Hook insisted, "when Pan had the mermaids chase the fish away and Tiger Lily was hiding all the wild boar, such as during that unfortunate adventure to rescue your boy during which that two-faced fairy did nothing to help us, let me remind you."
The dragon roared in the distance and he accused, "This is all your fault, you know. Clearly, your presence has buggered up my unconscious, Swan."
"More than it already is, you mean."
"And I do have regrets, as a matter of fact," Hook told her. "I regret that I ever thought your acrimonious personality and insults were covering for some inner pain or a clever way of flirting intending to play hard to get. Your inner femininity is just as intolerably bitchy as the outside."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't meant as one."
"Then you know how I feel since you twist every criticism into a misunderstanding of your victimhood, Hook. The only thing you're a victim of is whoever told you that sexy pirates wear eyeliner and that women love the smell of rum and sweaty leather."
"The ones worth associating with do."
"Again. Compliment," smirked Emma, "and no woman worth associating with plays hard to get. And the ones that do aren't interested in a romantic outcome," she concluded as a small white bunny rabbit hopped out from under some ferns.
"No," Hook gulped and backed away, going pale.
"You're afraid of bunny rabbits?" Emma asked, bemused. "It's just a harmless rabbit, Hook."
"That's no harmless anything!" he hissed, backing away further. "It's a monster."
Before Emma could laugh that comment off, the bunny's eyes suddenly glowed red and it sprouted long, bloody fangs.
"Run away!" Hook squeaked out.
Emma did not object this time as the rabbit launched itself from the ground and literally flew toward them by the unnatural magic of an impressively copied nightmare version of a cheap movie trick. One she now remembered Hook complaining after Henry made him watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail had given him nightmares.
Of course, the monster chased them right back to the clearing where the dragon was now pulling out the no-longer-tied-up Dream Hook's entrails from the half it hadn't yet eaten.
It noticed them immediately, turning its own bloody grin toward them, but Emma ran toward it undeterred.
"SWAN, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" Hook hollered as she ran full-tilt into the clearing.
"JUST KEEP RUNNING!"
The dragon seemed baffled why they were running right toward it as well. But being a dragon, it wasn't remotely distressed and opened its large jaws to either roast them or devour them. At which point Emma dropped to the ground, leg out to trip the bewildered pirate who'd stupidly gone along with her.
Hook hit the dirt, but the bunny kept flying - right into the dragon's mouth as it was inhaling to let lose a breath of fire. Instead it wheezed and toppled over dead and then vanished in puff of silvery mist.
Emma stood up and brushed off her slacks.. "You're welcome."
"How'd you know that would work?" Hook asked and she shrugged.
"You're gullible, Hook. Stands to reason that the unconscious manifestations of your fears are too," she retorted and then snorted. "I get the dragon. Everyone's afraid of them. But you still have nightmares about the Monty Python bunny? Seriously?"
"Shuddup."
Rolling her eyes, Emma found a large granite block to sit on by some smoldering roof beams. "You really are a childish asshole."
"Aye, so you've made repeatedly clear," sighed Hook as he searched through the rubble for his clothes. "But arsehole or not, I'm the man your sister chose to marry, Swan. Means you've got to put up with me in your life. And apparently I have to put up with you until this bloody powder wears off!"
"How awful for you," Emma shot back. "And you only have to up with me until Anna realizes her horrible mistake, dumps your ass, and is secure enough in her own self-worth to not need a man. That's the only way she'll ever be happy, whether that's on her own, or being emotionally mature enough to find someone who is also emotionally mature enough to be in a relationship and not an asshole.
"Cursed or not, Anna deserves a partner who isn't a killer and a rapist," she continued, "who didn't murder not only his own father for spite, but killed our grandfather just for kicks. That's not okay, Hook. And my father either has as much brain damage as my mother or is seriously repressed about being okay with that for what he thought was my sake, because no one's reaction to that was normal. And I'm apparently still waiting for the hangover from Zelena's dark magic to wear off, when they'll hopefully get their heads out of their asses and realize that you and a number of other people they've called reformed heroes whose pasts don't matter should be rotting in prison."
"Won't happen, Swan," Hook shook his head, side-stepping his dream self's severed head. "An inaccurate definition of justice is the social foundation of The Enchanted Forest and its sibling realms. Hundreds of years of history, of politics, economics, and romance have been based upon an absurdly easy shrugging off of criminal atrocities by those who consider themselves virtuous. Why do you think the 'villains' who often start out as the wronged parties take revenge to such extremes? The 'heroes' just don't take them seriously, think we should get over it, shrug it off, stiff upper lip and all that. And if their crimes are never exposed, they get to go on being beloved by everyone while never lifting a finger to right any of their wrongs.
"Do you think Cora would have turned into the Queen of Hearts if Leopold had thrown Eva in the dungeon after discovering her duplicity and apologized for trusting that scheming princess over his fiancée?" he challenged. "Or if Eva had come forward to publicly expose her own villainous youth to the people of her kingdom, proclaiming that Cora was the rightful queen and giving her family a more powerful role in her kingdom to atone for that than the pitiful farm King Xavier gave his last-born son?"
After a pause, Hook continued, "And Fiona. Would she have created the Dark Curse and damned generations to a timetable of its casting if the Blue Fairy had just listened to her and taken her fears seriously instead of telling her to shut it and let destiny happen because it's more important than her feelings? Then her husband wouldn't have turned into Pan, Neverland would not have been opened to mortals, and I'd have died a long time ago, sparing you my presence. Of course, so would Henry's father. But then, thinking on it, you might never have been born because you wouldn't be needed as a savior so your family's blood curse would have caused your twin sister to kill you in the womb."
Hook shrugged and concluded, "But that's getting into depths of philosophy I've not consumed enough rum yet to tackle. My point is that the degree of anyone's villainy in worlds of so-called fairytales is as a much on the heroes as on the criminals. Perhaps that's true in your world as well-"
"Seeing as you, the law enforcement, were doing a shitty job of it?" Emma cut him off. "Yeah, that's true at least. And I never said my parents' particular application of mercy, grace, and charity never quite add up to what that goddess with the blindfold actually intended as justice before Zeus fucked it all up with crazy customs and rewarding the bad guys while punishing the good guys, but telling them that suffering was part of being good and their was a happily ever after reward... being his playthings in the Afterlife.
"What I am saying," she explained, "is that just because they're clueless about that doesn't absolve you of self-accountability, Hook. Becoming a real good person, not a fake-ass definition of one created by a greedy god, means you don't take all the rewards you don't deserve served up on a silver platter just because the heroes are too morally incompetent to not reward you."
"Aye, well, I'm not trying to be your definition of 'good', Swan," Hook objected, "so you'll just have to put up with the rest of your family adhering to a different set of rules that say I'm pardoned of my sins because I let love into my heart and ceased killing innocent people and so am now deserving of all the same riches as they are. Besides, by the rules of your world, as I understand them from watching television, every family is required to be blessed with a roguish son-in-law that was initially loathed but charmed his way into their hearts and provides much-needed crassness and adventurous activities to their otherwise boring, monotonous lives."
"I really wish Henry had never taught you how to use the remote," Emma grumbled. "That's just a stupid TV trope, Hook! That's not what people actually want in their lives."
"Well, not you, perhaps," he shrugged, "but it's a service the others seem to appreciate that gives me added purpose beyond bedding your sister. And since Anna greatly enjoys that, despite your attempts at transferring your own rigid preferences, you're going to have to put up with me and get over our complicated history."
"It's not complicated, Hook. You left me to die. You tried to kill me. You threatened to rape me. You left me to die again. You emotionally manipulated me, lied to me, and sexually assaulted me in my own home. That's very straight forward."
"That's your point of view," he waved her off. "But I'm not looking for your forgiveness, Swan. You're entitled to your interpretation and opinion. The only opinion that truly matters is Anna's. And I'm not going to have a debate about its authenticity and the meddling of blood curses. Her opinion is her opinion until it isn't. And currently it's that I'm a changed man, changed for love, who wants to enjoy all the things in life that I squandered during my years of revenge plotting... turning that into a side hobby of mostly just annoying the Crocodile by occasionally rendering him unconscious and giving him a wedgie. There are some benefits to modern underclothes..."
Emma grimaced and averted her gaze as the pirate made no move to be discrete about pulling his slightly sooty ones back on.
"I don't object to the fasteners on bras. Much easier to remove than a corset, particularly one-handed," Hook concluded after straightening back up.
"Yeah, a hand you deserved to have cut off," she told him. "And any kind of revenge hobby is stupid, Hook. Milah's punishment was never to get at you. You were nothing to Rumplestiltskin. You're still nothing. You've confabulated this whole arch rival nonsense that's entirely one-sided and should have ended years ago, because Milah made her peace. Anna even told you that."
"I get to make my own peace or not in my own time, Swan," Hook harumphed, pulling on his leather pants. "Just like you."
"And in your case that's never because it suits your ego. You could have cared less about Milah's fate," she reminded. "Yet you still blathered on about revenge for Milah when you tried to kill Gold before your wedding. Milah who used you. Milah who was disgusted that you followed her lead in betraying her son and then went after his lover for your own. She sure as shit doesn't want you taking revenge in her name anymore, Hook, and you know that's been lip-service for centuries.
"My guess," she considered, "is that it was from the start, that it's always been about you and your hand and your pride, just like her 'love' for you was all sticking it to her ex and the patriarchy and using you as a means to look badass without making the real effort to earn all that fear-mongering herself. She used your reputation to build hers. And you used her name as a means to sound like you had some righteous reason to plot and hurt innocent people and being a mopey little wounded shit who wasn't to blame for his actions because he was just so sad and traumatized by losing his true love.
"Milah was no wronged 'damsel in distress' seeking sanctuary on your ship and you were no romantic 'gentleman pirate' for spiriting her away from her family. Your epic romance was just a cold-hearted bitch and a heartless prick who used each other.
"And from my point of view," Emma continued, "it's not much different with you and my sister. Or maybe worse, with your codependency compounded by your counteractive narcissism that was maybe always there, but back then got satisfied by your bootlicking crew. But since Smee got them all to desert your service, now all you've got is using lies and manipulation to con my family into becoming your crew of sycophants who kiss your ass just for wiping it after you take a dump."
"Well, you try wiping your arse one-handed on a stormy sea. That should warrant extra recognition," quipped Hook after pulling on his boots. "And as I said before, you can't blame me for your parents succumbing to my charms, Swan. Pirate being a pirate? Just be grateful you ended up with a mix of Queen Eva's cunning and wit without her cruelty and Ruth Nolan's tolerance and compassion without the complacency or you'd have to throw yourself in a dungeon. Perhaps that savior magic made sure you got a better mixing of your gene pool than your parents, weeding out all the bad you'd share with Anna otherwise."
Emma snorted. "You're actually trying to give me a compliment, Hook?"
"Might be a modified version of something I told Anna," he shrugged. "But taking advantage of anyone's gullibility when I was a cold-blooded pirate is not my fault in any sort of intentionally malicious way. So be angry with me for any slights I made directly against you or your son. But don't hold me accountable for decisions your family and friends have made about me and what they thought was you. Blame them for that."
Scowling, Emma sat back and retorted, "I do blame them. I don't know how not to."
"Well, I can't give you much advice there. I didn't know how not to blame my father, so I killed him and I still loath the Crocodile, as you know."
"And it's entirely within my right to be pissed as hell at you for all your shady little manipulations that took advantage of the goodness of others, Hook," Emma argued, "pirate or not, particularly after your time travel adventure made everyone especially susceptible to whatever selfish shit you, Anna, and Zelena pulled as the magical architects of the destruction of my parents' meeting that spiraled into a toxic waste dump of paradoxes that ended reality and you, under the banner of a good guy, just shrugged off that everyone suddenly changed personalities and kissed your ass."
"I told you, not my brand of morality. Or theirs. Just be glad we're back in a more sensible universe than the one those goddesses decided to end in a controlled near-destruction of reality by utilizing less paradoxically damaging immortal time travel or some such shite that would have been more amusing if it involved that phonebox from The Underworld."
"Your love of Doctor Who is one more reason I can't stand you," Emma scoffed. "That show is stupid. A bunch of generally old British dudes traveling through time with 'companions', fighting glorified Roombas."
"Aye, well, those bloody goddesses ruined it for me by spoiling the next one's going to be a woman," grumbled Hook. "Probably will end up being a lesbian besides, but not in the good way of those late night telly stations that involves pizza delivery and that infernal glowing machine from the Station that eats paper and spits completely non-magical ink or even the occasionally entertaining way of Ruby and Dorothy having hot make-out sessions, but in the boring honorable, might-as-well-be-asexual way like Mulan."
"Better asexual and honorable than everything you are," Emma snorted. "And you seemed rather fond of that copy machine when you tried to change the toner and ended up getting stoned. A pity the security camera couldn't capture you jabbing the paper tray with your sword."
"Shuddup! How was I to know that stuff is like milk of the poppy!?"
"For the love of... would all you idiots stop calling it that! It's opium!" Emma growled, amending, "I don't know how many times I had to restrain myself from punching Mulan in the face for saying 'milk of the poppy' this and 'milk of the poppy' that."
"Perhaps she compensated for her lack of sexual gratification with milk of the poppy," Hook retorted, "and her honor was all lies. All I know is, I'm intrigued that your mum nearly stabbed her to death and think it rather a pity Snow White lost that vicious protective streak. It would have made courting your sister much more enjoyable if either of your parents had put up a fight."
"Thank your magic wormhole that transformed my mother's 'protective streak' into offering to kill herself and her husband so my dumbass sister could get you back a day sooner than you would have gotten back otherwise completely on your own since you were in no actual danger from the Black Fairy's magical displacement, but she obviously knew my sister was my sister and thus a hotheaded, completely unreasonable and violently codependent slut for you."
"I'm sure Anna will enjoy my recounting your praises of her character, Swan," Hook scoffed while setting the blood-spattered couch upright and taking a seat on the least bloody part of it.
"I'm sure Anna knows exactly how I feel about her and the version of that curse warps her into and that you enabled even before she was free of my good influence. From the forced kisses, to forcing yourself on her whenever she wanted to be alone, to brainwashing her into not wanting to know about your past. It's all the bad shit you did to her that made her the kind of person who'd keep shit from you, who'd turn you into the Dark One, not her being the Dark One or an 'Evil Twin'. She had just enough sense to realize it wasn't right to still be with you after finding out that you killed our grandfather, that it really wasn't right for the lie to feel worse than the actual taking of a life. But you didn't have the strength or the goodness to say 'yeah, you're right, I'm an asshole who's taking emotional advantage of you, turning you into someone the you I first met would hate, so here's where I get on a submarine and never come back, no matter what saccharine shit your massively-concussed mother tells me just so she can cure her own guilt over being a shitty mother by planning a wedding and congratulating herself that she got her kid a true love match that will mean a blissful future to make up for the miserable past. That would be what a changed man would do. By my definition, of course, so feel free to keep following your screwed up one. I know you will."
Shaking her head, Emma stated, "At the end of the day, you and Anna both bring out the worst in each other. Anna's inability to admit that you're a terrible person and you thinking you can keep being this person, since she enabled it, but re-labeling it as heroic because she was me and I was supposed to be some mystical hero figure who'd purify your heart is all a bunch of codependent bullshit. It's sad and pathetic and one or both of you is going to end up hurt."
"You're just angry that you're hurt, Swan," Hook argued, "and taking it out on us. I am sorry that you're alone, Emma," he insisted, almost sounding genuine. "I'm sure you'd be far less of a judgmental bitch if you had Baelfire to warm your bed at night-"
"Yeah, it always comes down to sex," Emma cut him off.
Hook rolled his eyes. "It does, actually. And I get it. Things didn't turn out ideally for either of us, not how we planned at the outset, and worse for you. I didn't get the woman I thought I was pursuing - that ideal apparently never existed but in some dream I put into my own head by going back in time and helping get myself drunk and fancying that encounter as something more meaningful than a simple con. And you didn't get the second chance you wanted, that you didn't know your sister's inclinations were keeping you from pursuing as your control began slipping away like the magnetic poles reversing, throwing your moral compass out of sorts. And now you've got to endure our happiness on top of your parents' happiness - and guilt at being partially responsible for you losing yours. I know that despair, Swan. Seeing others enjoying what was taken from you and not understanding its importance, treating your loss like something you should shrug off-"
"Because that's what the good guys do," Emma concluded for him. "I'm not defending that life's philosophy. But I'm not accepting yours either, Hook. And I'm not angry or jealous of anyone else's happiness. I just want it to be real happiness instead of squandering their time on delusions. I want Anna to be able to know what true love and real happiness feel like."
"She's cursed, Swan," Hook sighed. "Unless that curse is broken, she can't."
"And I thought that's why you left. Part of the reason, anyway."
"Not every quest is successful," he shrugged.
"So much for sowing your oats - aside from all the barmaids you raped and impregnated over the past three centuries, of course," Emma retorted. "Maybe you have a great great grandson young enough that you can teach how to cheat at dice and stab in the back. Even bump off his father and grandfather so you can adopt him, and if he gives you any sass, you can just toss him through a portal into another realm run by a demon or something. Seems legit by your family standards."
"Sure, I'll consider it," Hook snarked right back as he located a flask in the rubble and after taking a swig from it, he pointed out, "Your squirrel coat is still smoldering, Swan."
Emma turned her head and realized that there was, indeed, smoke once again coming from the back of her coat and her back was starting to get rather warm. Swearing, she finally pulled off the coat, tossing it on the ground and stomping out the beginning of flames.
Hook choked on his rum and sputtered in shocked observation, "You're pregnant."
Sighing over the subject matter she'd hoped to continue concealing, Emma retorted, "Apparently I'm not as prudish or lonely as you think. And just have shitty luck when I'm opting for the less prudish and lonely. And no, I don't want to talk about it any further than that. I still have to break the 'you have another illegitimate grandchild' news to my mother in the middle of a political crisis where that's not exactly going to earn support with the traditionalists."
"Trouble still stirring in Little Camelot, eh? I may be a terrible deputy by your standards, but I did warn your parents that the place was teaming with nefarious sorts and Philip and Aurora hardly seem strong or competent enough to keep them in line for long," he recalled before another drink.
"George and Tremaine or Gothel or whoever the hell Ella's step aunt is are pitting factions against each other, clearly hoping to swoop into the mess and assert control," sighed Emma. "It's one more complication that I don't need when I'm still sorting through all the lawsuits filed against the Department because of you and Anna."
"The girl with the cat?"
"Yes, the girl with the cat! And many others not involving house pets!"
"I'd take issue with your tone," Hook stated, "but clearly you're hormonal, so I'll forgive all of your earlier insults, Swan, and offer congratulations... as well as condolences for whatever political theater farce your mother is sure to foist upon you as damage control for this impending little bastard of yours. I will further preemptively opt myself and Anna out of any attempts to foist upon us babysitting services."
"I'd rather have Leroy, Walter, and that girl's traumatized cat watch any kid of mine than either of you, so don't worry. You were never on the list, Hook."
"Ah, well, good then. Perhaps Belle is available. I'm sure her medication regiment has reduced her predilection toward shaking babies. Or not."
The dust motes suddenly grew heavier and the surroundings started to grow fuzzy and dim.
"Looks like our time is about up," said Hook. "Hardly soon enough, Swan."
Frowning, Emma returned, "Tell Anna I hope... she gets back safely."
The world went black before Hook could answer.
AN: I know Westworld didn't exist as TV show yet. But Hamilton didn't exist during OUAT's run either, and dumbass writers who don't know their own timeline put it in. Emma's listing of Hook's offenses comes from a tumblr post by violetfaust. As far as I know, there has never been a name given to Aurora or Philip's kingdom(s). I named it after Charles Perrault, who wrote a version of the fairytale. The sheriff Emma references is the now infamous Joseph Arpaio, pardoned by Trump for extreme racial profiling, who was the elected Sheriff of Maricopa County, Arizona for 24 years, from 1993 until 2016. OUAT seems to exist in a parallel universe in which Maricopa County was run by a sheriff who was not a chain-gang-operating asshole, where prisoners did not have to wear jail-bird striped uniforms (pink and black for the ladies, y'all!), and where you got your own spit-shined cell with an actual mattress. Emma's contemplation of herself and Anna as monarchs is again inspired by The Crown, Season 2 this time.