After the Vengeance

CS genre: Canon Divergence (2x15)

What even is my life? Emma thought for probably the millionth time since Henry showed up at her door last year spouting all kinds of craziness about fairy tale characters come to life. You'd think she'd be used to the sideshow that was her life by this point, but today proved that life was still capable of tossing her a doozy of a curve-ball.

It was supposed to be a simple "find Gold's son" mission. They'd take a quick trip to Manhattan, find Baelfire, head back to Storybrooke, and her "debt" to Gold would be fulfilled. No such luck. Not only did Neal Cassidy show back up after twelve years of absolute silence, but he was the son of Rumple-freaking-stiltskin. Then everyone's favorite stab-happy pirate had shown up and made everything even more interesting.

How did she get into these kinds of situations?

Emma plopped onto Neal's slightly dusty couch with a long, drawn out sigh. To say the situation as it currently stood was less than ideal was an understatement.

She'd knocked Hook out, but not before he'd succeeded in doing some serious quality damage with his poisoned hook. Gold had insisted his only chance to survive was to get him back to Storybrooke as soon as possible, and Neal had suggested he take him back on the Jolly Roger. (And again…what was her life? Her ex-boyfriend had learned how to sail a ship from Captain Hook?!)

"So what do we do?" Neal had asked as he got his father settled on his couch and then came back to consult with Emma. "Tie Hook up and leave him in the storage closet or something?"

The thought had made her distinctly uncomfortable. "We can't just leave him here, Neal. He's a three-hundred year old pirate who knows nothing about modern life."

He'd given her a distinctly disgruntled look. "You have a problem leaving Hook behind?"

"Yeah, actually I do," she'd said glaring at him. She should have known leaving someone behind and locked up would be Neal's solution. Seemed to be his m.o. "I did it once before. It was a mistake then; it would be a mistake again now. Besides, you really want to let Captain Hook loose on New York? Who knows what kind of havoc he'd cause."

Neal let out a long breath. "So, what? We bring him with us so he can wake up and try to do dad in again?"

"No," she said. "You guys go ahead. I'll hang out with him until he wakes up, and then we'll find another way home. Ought to give you enough of a head start to get Gold back to Storybrooke and whatever magical solution he has in mind."

And so it was arranged. Neal would take Gold back to Storybrooke on the Jolly Roger, and Emma would make her way back with Hook later. Henry insisted on accompanying his father back, an arrangement that made Emma far from happy, but there was no time to argue.

So here she was, twiddling her thumbs in her ex-boyfriend's Manhattan apartment while she waited for a murderous, revenge-crazed pirate to wake up.

As if on cue, she heard a groan and a muttered "Bloody hell!" from the vicinity of the bedroom.

Getting to her feet, Emma made her way to the room, where she'd handcuffed Hook to Neal's bed. He opened his eyes, looked around, and then smirked up at her.

"Really, love," he drawled. "I would say your penchant for restraining me was beginning to get old, but can I really complain about a beautiful woman tying me to a bed?"

Emma rolled her eyes, and then stepped forward, unlocking the restraint and then stepping back. "Yeah, well don't get any ideas buddy."

Hook rolled to a sitting position, put his hand to his (no doubt) aching head, groaned, and then straightened, shooting her a salacious look. "I'm afraid your warning is too late, Swan. The ideas have been there well-nigh since we met."

"I'm starting to wish I took Neal's advice and left you chained to a radiator."

Her mention of one of the other players in their little drama seemed to sober Hook immensely. He got to his feet, stumbled his way through the small apartment, and then returned to her, a hard look in his eyes. "Where is he? Where is the Crocodile? I wish to see his filthy, rotting body."

"He's not here," Emma said calmly. "Neal took him back to Storybrooke in search of a cure of some kind."

Hook looked furious for the span of two heartbeats, and then he smiled. "Neal can take the Crocodile wherever he wishes; it won't do him a bit of good. There is no cure anywhere in this realm for the poison currently racing through his veins."

Emma shrugged. "Maybe there is and maybe there isn't. All they know is that their only hope is in Storybrooke."

Hook looked at her closely. "And yet you're here. And without your lad, no less. Why didn't you go with them, love?"

She turned away, looking sightlessly out the window. "It…it didn't seem right to strand you in a strange city."

He was silent for several moments, and finally Emma turned back toward him. He looked stunned. "You…you chose to remain behind rather than leave me?"

She looked aside again. "Don't look at me like that!" she said irritably. "I just didn't want to subject New York to you and your stupid poisoned hook."

He shook his head softly. "No, that's not it," he said with a tiny smile. "Don't forget, you're an open book, darling. There's more to it than concern for this bizarre, noisy city."

She huffed. "Fine!" she said. "It seemed cruel to leave you behind again, okay? I made a mistake on the beanstalk and I didn't want to make the same mistake again. Satisfied?"

His resulting smile seemed entirely devoid of his normal sardonic flirting. "Quite."

He swayed forward as though he planned to embrace her, but she quickly sidestepped. Her traitorous heart pounded at the thought of those arms surrounding her again, and that reaction freaked her out more anything else that had happened during this freaking day.

"Yeah, well," she said brusquely, "now that you're awake, how about we see about finding a way to Storybrooke? I'd rather be back with my son a.s.a.p."

"Aye," Hook said with a nod (which culminated in a grimace, as he reached up to rub at his still-aching head). "Shall we make our way to the Jolly then?"

Well, this part of the conversation was probably not going to go well. "Yeah…about that…"

His eyes narrowed. "Is there a reason we cannot take my ship back to Storybrooke, love?"

"Um…yeah," she said. "Neal kind of took Gold back home in it."

"What?!"

"Well, I mean time was of the essence," Emma said with a shrug, "and the Jolly Roger did seem the fastest way to get back."

"So you let the Crocodile steal my bloody ship? Bad form, Swan!"

"They didn't steal it, Hook," she said with an eyeroll, "they just borrowed it."

He shot her a dirty look. "Borrowing implies the obtaining of the owner's permission."

"Well, you were kind of tied up at the time."

He glared. "And whose bloody fault is that?! I was under the impression that a 'sheriff' would avoid such activities as aiding and abetting the pilfering of a man's personal property."

She got in his face. "You wanna stand here and argue who's the biggest law breaker, or do you want to travel back to Storybrooke where you can take back possession of your 'personal property'?"

He glared for another moment, and then his expression evened out. "By all means, Swan, let's set sail."

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Hook's eyes widened as the monstrosity on which Swan had procured them seats began picking up speed as it navigated its way onto something called a "freeway". Swan called the large, crowded conveyance a "bus", and deemed it the best vessel to get them back to Storybrooke, save for something called an "airplane". And after Swan had informed him just what an airplane was, he'd put his foot down.

"Do you mean to tell me that people in this realm trust their safety to a metal conveyance that flies?" he'd asked incredulously. "How is that even possible? Have they Pegasus sails in your realm?"

She'd given him a blank look and then burst out laughing. "Don't think so, whatever those are. I don't know how the whole flying thing works. I just know you get on the plane, it takes off, flies through the air really fast and then lands at your destination."

"Love, I've not survived for several centuries by trusting my person to such precarious conveyances," he'd insisted. "I'd sooner swim back to Storybrooke."

"That, I'd like to see," Emma said, her voice full of amusement.

He'd grinned "Fancy a gander at my person stripped down for a swim, do you love?"

"You wish," she said with an eyeroll.

"At any rate," he'd said, "as I would like to return to your Storybrooke as quickly as possible, perhaps you could suggest another means of transport in which I don't need to put my life in peril?"

"We'll take a bus," Emma had said decisively.

And so it was decided. They'd procured tickets with relative ease, though the gentleman at the ticket counter had eyed his pirate attire with more than a little unease. Hook smirked, wondering just how much fear he would have elicited in the man had he still possession of his hook. Swan had insisted on confiscating the eponymous item before they'd reached the bus station.

"Hook, you can't travel on a bus wearing a hook," she'd insisted.

"And just why not, pray tell."

"Because it's a weapon!" she'd said in exasperation. "They aren't gonna let you on if you're toting a dangerous weapon at the end of your arm."

"But the passengers on the bus need not fear, provided they give me no reason to threaten them," Hook had argued. "The hook was meant for the Crocodile and the Crocodile alone. I've no quarrel with any of the denizens of this city."

Emma stopped, put her hands on her shapely hips and gave him her patented "you are an idiot" look. After a moment she held out her hand. "Just give me the damn hook. Trust me, it'll be better that way. I swear you're harder to reason with than a toddler."

He'd given her an aggrieved look, and then snapped the hook from its brace, handing it to her. She'd taken it, slid it into her bag and continued her walk.

He'd more or less meekly followed her into the huge vessel, navigating his way through the throng of passengers already in seats and standing in the aisles. When they'd reached a pair of unoccupied seats, he'd gestured forward, inviting Swan to take her choice.

"Yeah, I think I'll let you have the window seat," she'd said, eyeing him carefully. "Not sure how you'd handle being jostled by this crowd. Last thing I need is for you to start a fight and get us kicked off the bus."

"I'm wounded, Swan," he said with a frown. "I do have some modicum of self-control."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she said under her breath as she took her seat.

They'd settled in and passed the first quarter of an hour in companionable silence. As the bus picked up speed, Hook became steadily more and more nervous until he'd worked himself up into a right state. When he felt Swan place her hand over his on the armrest separating their seats, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry," she said, picking up her hand quickly, "didn't mean to startle you."

Hook took a deep breath, willing himself to calm, and then he shot her a quick smile. "It's no matter Swan. It's merely that this speed…it makes me a mite uneasy."

Her face softened. "It's nothing to worry about, really," she said. "It might be fast, but I promise we're safe."

"I certainly hope so, as I've put my life in the hands of the man driving the bus," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, like I said, it's safe."

"Was there something you needed, love?" he asked, sensing there was a reason Swan had taken his hand and started the conversation in the first place.

"I just…" she began, and then blew out a long breath. "It's been a hell of a day. For both of us, I guess."

He looked at her curiously. "I apologize for pushing you aside earlier," he said carefully. "Rather bad form that, but I couldn't take a chance you'd prevent my vengeance."

She laughed humorlessly. "Trust me, Hook. That little shove you gave me was the least of my problems today. Let's just say my son's family tree got much, much more complicated."

"Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked carefully.

She shook her head. "Yeah, right now? I don't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. I think, for the moment any distraction I could get would be appreciated."

Hook looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. "If it's distraction you're looking for, love, I'm sure I can come up with something so pleasurable you'll forget your own name let alone your lad's family tree."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Do you ever stop with the ridiculous innuendo?"

"As rarely as I can get away with it."

She laughed again, and then sobered, glancing at him with something akin to apprehension.

"Is there something else the matter?" he asked carefully.

"Well…" she began, looking up at him. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded an assent.

"I get why you wanted vengeance against Gold," she said carefully, "I really do. After what you said he did…I get you being angry."

"It's not just anger, love," Hook said decisively. "I need vengeance for my Milah. Justice demands it! A world in which my sweet love is brutally murdered and the beast who crushed her heart to powder before my eyes goes free and continues to pursue his own agenda is a world I simply cannot accept."

"But," she said slowly, "if it turns out Gold can't find a cure and you do get your vengeance, what then? I get wanting revenge, but in my experience? It never really makes the pain go away. It just makes you…empty. I know no one has done anything to me even close to what Gold did to you, but what happens when your life's work, your vengeance is complete?"

Swan's questions made him uncomfortable. He'd always had a vague sense that his vengeance would end his life as well; that taking the Crocodile's life would be his last act. Now that he'd survived the encounter…

"I don't know, love," he said simply, turning to look out the window and watch the road flash by. "Revel in my victory, I suppose."

"And" she said, "if they do find a cure? If Rumple does survive your attack?"

He turned back toward you. "Well then, I suppose my purpose is renewed."

"You sure you want to be telling the town sheriff you have plans to go back to plotting murder?"

He smirked. "Why not love? I've rather enjoyed the times we've sparred—both verbally and physically—even if you do have a frustrating habit of besting me."

"And I always will," she smirked right back, and then her face got serious once more. "Just think about something, okay? Storybrooke's a place for second chances. You ever decide you want to change, there're plenty of people who'd be willing to let you be a part of something—you know, something that doesn't involve hundreds of years of hatred and murder and plotting and stuff."

"Would you be one of those people 'willing to let me be a part of something'?" he asked.

She laughed. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier than constantly trying to clean up after your messes."

He laughed right along with her. There was something about this woman…something that called to something deep inside him. It was beyond her beauty, beyond her courage, beyond her strength. It was something he hadn't had, hadn't even realized he was missing for far, far too long.

It was hope.

Maybe…maybe when all was said and done, when he could be sure his Milah was properly avenged, maybe there was something for him after all. Maybe the strange land of Storybrooke could be for him what he'd lacked for centuries.

"I'll think on it, Swan," he said softly. She squeezed his hand softly, and then they fell back into a peaceful silence as the miles rolled by bringing them closer and closer to Storybrooke. Closer and closer to home.

Notes:

-Happy Friday! Only 3 more Fridays left before Once is back!

-So obviously, the premise of this canon divergence was "what would happen if Emma hadn't left Killian chained to a radiator in New York?" I had fun going back to season 2—although it was a bit of a challenge to get back into Emma's and Killian's season 2 mindsets. There's definite attraction and sexual tension between them for sure, but neither is anywhere near love yet. More like—suspicious tolerance on Emma's part and amusement on Killian's. Anyway, aside from their interaction, I decided to throw in a little bit of "Hook vs the Modern World" as well, because, come on. You can never have enough of that!

-Up next: I think I'll go with a deleted scene from somewhere around 4x2 or 4x3. Because I've had all kinds of CS movie feels lately: Killian and David discuss the conversation Charming and "Prince Charles" had that night by the fire.