The Scarf

CS Genre: Deleted Scenes

Season 2a; at the top of the beanstalk

"So any ideas on where to find the compass?" Emma asked, desperately trying to keep her voice calm and aloof.

No, she wasn't thinking about Captain Freaking Hook bandaging her hand with his teeth. And no, in case anyone wondered, it didn't have any effect on her. At all. Not one bit. He was an idiot; a frat boy who had a way too exalted opinion of himself and his effect on women. Her mind was on the compass and Henry. Getting back to Henry; that's what mattered; that's all that was on her mind.

Hook looked at her with a smirk. "Are you sure it's the compass you're desiring love?"

She glared daggers in his direction. It was anger and nothing more that made her heart rate spike at the silky, seductive way he'd delivered that question. "Uh, yeah. Seeing as how the compass is the reason we came up here in the first place; I'd say I'd say it's pretty high on my list of priorities."

He shrugged, smug grin still in place. He sauntered closer, moving with the grace of a cat. Once he'd thoroughly invaded her space, he leaned down until he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her face.

(She didn't move away because she refused to give him the satisfaction. That was all. It had nothing to do with her sudden desire to determine just how those sinful lips tasted.)

"How shall we find the compass?" he whispered, moving so his lips nearly connected with her ear. "We search, love."

Emma stepped back, face flaming. The smile he sent her was pure mischief. He knew what he was doing to her, damn him! Well, he wasn't going to get away with it. She'd stick around with him long enough to find the stupid compass and then she planned to get the hell away.

"Alright," she said in a hard voice, arms crossed, "so let's get to it."

They searched for hours. The giants clearly had no concept of tidiness—or organization. Treasure was haphazardly piled everywhere. It would take a miracle to find the damn compass.

She sifted through yet another mound of golden coins, her mind so focused on her task—and so determinedly not focused on the ridiculous pirate who was helping her—that she forgot about her injured hand. She struck something hard and sharp with said hand, and quickly pulled it back with a muffled curse, shaking the maligned appendage up and down in an effort to relieve the sting.

Hook was at her side in a second. "Something the matter Swan?"

He took her hand in his, concern painting his features when he realized the problem.

"It's fine," she said, yanking her hand back and striding quickly away. They were not about to have an encore performance of the bandaging fiasco.

"Suit yourself," he called after her, trying to shrug nonchalantly. But she noticed the concern still lingering on his face.

The pain slowly receded from the injury, to be replaced by a certain unfamiliar warmth. A warmth that spread from her palm up her arm straight to her heart. (Was it just her, or was it really hot up here?)

Oh, this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Hook, the playboy extraordinaire she could deal with, but Hook genuinely concerned about her? Hook trying to ease her pain? Nope. She wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole.

Maybe it was time she started devising a contingency plan. She needed to get away from Captain Hook as soon as physically possible.

2 days later, back in the Charmings' loft

Emma woke with a gasp, hand going to her heart. That had been some nightmare! Okay, maybe it wasn't technically a nightmare, but it had been as terrifying as being captured by an ogre. She'd been back on the beanstalk, Hook wrapping his scarf around her hand. He'd leaned down, his breath warm on her fingers as he whispered his (ridiculous) plan to simply wait for the giant to fall asleep. He'd grabbed the end of the make-shift bandage with his teeth, and tugged gently. The resulting tug deep within her belly was irresistible.

And here's where things got dangerous. In her subconscious' version of events, what happened next involved that damn scarf being the only scrap of clothing either of them ended up wearing.

Emma groaned, sitting up and running her (now properly bandaged) hand over her face. What was wrong with her? The son of a bitch was the worst kind of player out there. He'd feel you up one minute and then stab you in the back with his (literal) sword the next. He was dangerous in so many ways it wasn't even funny.

Okay, maybe he was attractive…if you were into the hot as hell scruffy look…which she absolutely refused to admit that she was. Not at all. He did nothing for her. But that was it. Nothing more to it. Nothing beyond the physical pull to a handsome man—not that she felt the pull, but maybe she could see how other women might.

Besides, he was gone; stuck back in the Enchanted Forest with the bitch he preferred to work with, and Emma didn't ever have to see, hear or think about him again.

Emma laid back down, hoping to get a few more winks before it was time to head to the sheriff's station and see what kind of trouble the town had gotten itself into while she was away, but her eyes snagged on the scarf-turned-bandage.

It sat smugly on her nightstand, a constant reminder of her adventure, of her injury, of him. Whale had offered to dispose of it after he'd seen to her injury—the thing was filthy and ragged and pretty much useless—but she'd shook her head, deciding to keep it instead. She didn't know why; she just needed it around.

Emma reached over and grabbed the dark cloth, bringing it to her nose. It smelled of leather and rum, and some other indefinable scent that screamed Hook. She closed her eyes and allowed herself one, single moment to remember.

So what if she found Captain Hook attractive? So what if she'd had a tiny, insignificant moment of connection with him on the beanstalk? He was in a different realm with no way to get to her. No harm in indulging in a single moment of whimsy.

So what if she dreamed of him and the…ahem…other things that talented mouth could do? So what if her heart had beat faster when he'd arrived at Rumple's cell and vowed to her that he wouldn't have abandoned her on the beanstalk? So what if in honest moments when the dawn fought valiantly with the night she could admit to herself that she knew, instinctively, from the very start that he could be someone who mattered to her in a way no one had ever mattered before?

Suddenly, Emma thrust the scarf from her. No, nope, not a chance in hell. She wasn't going down that road. She'd get rid of the damn bandage today. She'd…she didn't know…burn it or something. What did it matter? It was nothing but a dirty, bloody scrap of fabric.

In the end, she couldn't do it…and yet she couldn't keep it with her on her nightstand either. That was just…just…all too much.

So she'd compromised. She'd taken it to the station, put it on top of her memory box (not in it; on top of it. It was not something she wanted to remember for the rest of her days) in the drawer of the sheriff's desk.

It was safe there; out of sight. And as they say, out of sight is out of mind. The annoying pirate may still decide to visit her from time to time in her dreams, but while she was awake? Yeah, the danger he posed to her heart was completely, totally neutralized.

She need never concern herself with her revenge-crazed, leather clad buccaneer ever again. Crisis averted.

Notes:

-*Shakes head* Oh season 2 Emma, you have no idea!

-Yeah, I've pretty much given up on my self-imposed "under 1000 words" rule. Clearly it is something I'm incapable of.

-This chapter can be blamed entirely on Colin O'Donoghue and his ridiculous presence at the Fairy Tales III con in Paris last weekend. The man destroyed us all by telling us that the teeth portion of the hand-bandaging scene was improvised. Why? Just why? Well, naturally, after that, I had to write a fluffy beanstalk "deleted scene" from Emma's perspective. Honestly, I'm not sure how she managed to avoid melting into a gooey puddle of savior at his feet after that little performance and the look in his eyes while he was doing it! She's clearly a stronger woman than I am. (If you're interested in my further ramblings about Colin's revelation about the scarf scene, watch my Tumblr page (whimsicallyenchantedrose). I will shortly be posting a text post entitled "Discussing the Scarf Scene of Fangirl Death". Colin is a menace to society, and I figured it was high time someone called him on it. :-p)

-Inspiration number 2 was the scene in the second half of season 2 (I'm too lazy right now to look up the actual episode, lol) when Hook broke out of the hospital, knocked David out and stole his Hook back. Those of us in the CS fandom collectively melted down over the fact that he had to rummage past his scarf in order to get his signature appendage. Emma kept the scarf! I thought it was about time I explained exactly how that came about.