Wow, this chapter was a doozy. For whatever reason, it took a million rewrites and still wouldn't flow until it finally did lol. I think I'm finally satisfied with how it came out, but I really can't even tell anymore xD

I hope you guys like chapter 2! :)

Also, I listened to Safe in My Hands by Eli Lieb while writing this, since it seemed like a really fitting song for the story haha.

~cosette141


"Don't leave."

Hook had never heard such broken desperation before.

The pain in her voice was so much more than physical, and it reminded him of the very day Liam died, and when he had lost Milah. It was the same plea Hook had kept begging over and over and over again as he watched the Dreamshade take his brother's life, and Milah's last moments.

Don't leave me.

Emma has lived that pain.

But from her voice, from the rawness of it, she's somehow lived it so much worse.

Someone—or more than one someone—had left her.

And he couldn't help wondering how you could leave her.

There was no bloody way he was leaving Emma.

Not now.

Not ever.

Just this morning, all he cared about was getting his revenge.

But now?

Seeing Emma's life in danger had made him realize that he felt so much more than just an attraction, than a mutual understanding with her.

He bloody cared for her.

He had killed the Crocodile.

For her.

Something he had set out for two hundred years to do, to avenge Milah, and he did it for Emma.

He would sort out the complicated emotions that arose at that later, but for now, all he knew was that he wasn't leaving Emma, and that was that.

"M-Mom?"

Hook jumped a little, startled to hear the lad's voice. Her lad was looking cautiously into the room from the doorway, eyes still wide with fear that didn't belong in the eyes of a boy so young. When he saw his mother, his eyes widened even more. "Mom!" He ran to them, tears welling in his eyes, even more terrified than he had been.

Hook considered himself traumatized enough seeing Emma this way; he couldn't imagine what it was like for her lad.

"Mom!" he cried, sounding so horribly young.

Emma was still crying, trembling in Hook's arms. From the way her breath hitched with pain Hook was almost terrified to move her. Of the three of them, Emma held the most panic, even now. Bloody hell, she was nearly killed. Captain Hook was only afraid of a few things, and yet he would deny it to his dying day, the Crocodile had been one of them.

Emma didn't react to her son's voice, seeming either in shock or too much pain to focus on anything else. It only concerned Hook more for her. That age-old sense of anxiety wouldn't release its grip on his heart, and it hurt.

Swallowing, Hook tightened his hold around her a little, protectively. Answering for her, he told her lad, "She's hurt, but… I think she'll be all right." Hook forced a reassuring smile for the boy that he didn't feel. He needed to get her to a healer as soon as possible.

Hook's words didn't seem to quell any of Henry's fears. His gaze wary, he suddenly looked around the room, like he remembered something. "Where… where's…?" Henry's eyes landed on the Crocodile's discarded cane…

…and Hook's own namesake, lying on the ground.

"Did…Did you…" He swallowed, tearing his eyes away, regarding Hook with eyes just as wary.

Hook hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to frighten him.

It was strange, that feeling. For so long, Hook had prided himself on instilling fear in everyone he came across. No matter who they were.

But now…

Now, he felt a completely foreign desire to be trusted.

And here, now, Emma clinging to him, her boy staring at him with innocent fear…

He didn't want to be the ruthless pirate anymore.

It felt like the person he used to be died with the Crocodile.

He tightened his hold on Emma.

It felt like a second chance.

"He will never hurt either of you again," Hook settled on, words firm, yet soft.

Henry seemed to read between the lines, and he swallowed again. But he also seemed to realize that meant he and Emma were safe, and Hook watched the young boy let out a shuddering breath of what looked like relief. He glanced from Hook to his mother, and looked utterly lost. "Captain?" Henry stammered, "I wanna go home."

Something hurt in the way the young lad said the words.

"Your mother should see a healer," said Hook, that anxiety tightening his chest as her breath hitched again.

"Dr. Whale," said Henry instantly, getting to his feet. "Dr. Whale can help her," he said anxiously. "Or my mom—my other mom, she can heal her," said Henry, brows scrunching together, like he wasn't entirely sure of that fact. "I can convince her to," he added quieter. "But… but Mr. Go—" His voice cut, and Henry's chin wobbled as he looked at Emma. "He had our plane tickets home, and I don't know—"

"No need to worry," said Hook, a foreign softness to his words. He didn't exactly know what a plane was, but he wasn't about to let either of them out of his sight. "I'll get you and your mother home."

Henry's brows raised. "You will?"

"Aye." Hesitating, Hook looked at Emma, then back to Henry. "Lad," said Hook, and Henry looked at him, all wide-eyes. It suddenly occurred to Hook that the boy had shifted his loyalty from Emma to him in seconds. Despite his reputation, the boy was fully prepared to follow his guidance.

Hook swallowed hard, remembering the last time a child looked at him like that.

The hazy, painful memory of the boy resurfaced, and it was suddenly almost… astonishing just how similar Emma's boy and Baelfire looked.

Shaking himself sharply from the memories, Hook carefully shifted and said, "Take this." He reached his hand into his pocket for his scarf. Handing it to Henry, he said, "Retrieve my hook for me. Carefully," he added firmly. "Don't touch it. Use the cloth." He doubted there was Dreamshade left on the steel, it looked clean enough, but he wasn't taking chances.

Not with Emma's boy.

Henry nodded, like he was given the most important task in the world, and went to get his hook.

Then, Hook let out a breath, looking down at Emma.

She was still clinging to him so tightly it almost hurt, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his chest, her tears mixing with the blood on her face. Fury and fear battled in his chest at the sight of her so hurt.

As carefully as he could, he shifted her a little in his arms, wincing when it made her hiss a sharp breath of pain. He whispered an apology, getting his left arm behind her back, his right under her knees. Slowly, he lifted her into his arms as he rose to his feet.

She roused a little as he did, her face pulled into a grimace, a pained sound escaping her clenched teeth. Her eyes snapped open, stark, bright fear in her green eyes, so clear it stunned him to the core.

"It's all right," he said quickly, his voice no more than a whisper, feeling her go rigid with fear in his arms. "I've got you, love." he said softly. "It's all right."

She met his eyes, stilling in his grip apart from the trembles that wracked her entire frame, and he met hers right back. He smiled a little, though his brows still held every ounce of worry he felt for her. The fear in her eyes waned. "H-Hook?" she whispered.

A little more concerned that she seemed to have forgotten he'd been holding her all this time—especially with the knowledge that she had some sort of head injury—Hook's chest clenched. "Aye, love," he said, that reassuring smile tilting his lips, attempting to set her at ease. "I've got you. It's all right."

She held his gaze for a moment more, before shutting her eyes with a wince, and giving him a short nod.

Then, she leaned her face back into his chest, and he felt her hand grab the material of his coat, fingers clenched as tightly to him as she could.

It spread a warmth in his chest he hasn't felt…

Ever.

He hesitated there for a moment, frozen, just holding her.

It wasn't lost on him the way she seemed to naturally… fit, in his arms, her face tucked into his chest.

It was a strange sense of… completeness that he hadn't even felt with Milah.

Hook swallowed.

But at the blood and the bruises on Emma's exposed skin, the way she still shook, hearing the hitch in her voice… that familiar burn of anger flared within him, dampening the rush of feeling.

"Got it," said Henry, returning with his hook, carefully wrapped in the scarf, held tight in his hands.

"Thank you, lad," said Hook, giving him a smile he hasn't used in centuries. "My ship isn't far," said Hook to Henry.

Henry's eyes had been on his mother's trembling form, but he perked up the smallest bit. "Your… your pirate ship?" he asked. "The Jolly Roger is here?"

Despite the shock and fear the boy was visibly still feeling, the tiniest spark of wonder in his eyes made Hook feel something shift in his chest.

"Aye," he said. Tightening his grip on Emma, he said, "Let's get you and your mother home."


It was only luck that his ship wasn't far, and that night had fallen. Hook had chosen the less crowded pathways of the strange town, letting shadows hide them from prying eyes. The last thing he needed was for someone to think he had inflicted the injuries upon Emma.

Emma had slipped into sleep or unconsciousness halfway through the journey, which was both a worry and something that absolutely stunned him. Somehow, Emma Swan, someone who trusted nothing and no one, who may have shared an understanding with him in the past, but never a reliability, suddenly relinquished all of her control.

To him.

She had realized it was he who held her back in that room, and only clung onto him tighter.

Emma, who, despite reading every single truth in his eyes on that damn Beanstalk, still couldn't bring herself to trust him.

Somehow, he, Captain Hook, pirate, villain, managed to gain the trust of the purest, most innocent, most distrustful soul he had ever met.

And Hook decided then and there he would die before he broke it.

Her lad followed closely beside him. It seemed that, despite everything, he also had her boy's full trust.

Something else that touched him in a way few very things ever have.

He didn't say a word as they went. Hook spent the journey shifting his gaze from Emma's shut eyes to her lad, ensuring that he didn't lose him. It wasn't lost on Hook that the boy's safety was now firmly in his hand and hook, and he wasn't about to take it for granted.

At one point through the journey, heading down a shadowed alley where light hardly reached, Hook felt a snag on his jacket. As they emerged from it, without breaking stride, Hook looked down, and nearly came to an abrupt halt in shock.

Henry had grabbed a fistful of his jacket, fingers tightly clutching the leather, keeping him even closer to Hook's side. Even out of the alley, Henry kept the tight hold on his jacket.

The sight nearly stole his breath.

Emotions he hasn't felt in ages, feelings that were covered in dust rose in his chest.

Hook shook himself.

They kept on toward his ship.

Henry never let him go.


They made it to the docks without trouble, and Hook led Henry—who was still practically glued to his side—to where the Jolly Roger was docked.

"Where's your ship?" asked Henry, speaking for the first time, eyes scanning the supposedly-empty water.

"She's cloaked," said Hook. His understanding of this land—the Land Without Magic, they'd coined it—supposedly only had magic in the one town, Storybrooke. He'd been unsure if Cora's magic would hold up once he left. For whatever reason it had, and he was not going to complain.

When he had docked the ship, he'd memorized the surroundings indicating where the gangplank was, and he approached it. Ensuring there were no prying eyes, he stepped a foot over the edge of the dock, feeling his ship under his boot. He started into the ship, feeling Henry follow hesitantly.

"Woah," breathed Henry as they walked onto the deck.

Hook snuck a look down at the lad, who'd let go of his jacket, his head canted back, staring transfixed at the billowing masts.

"She looks just like the pictures in the book," said Henry in awe, taking in the ship.

Hook distantly felt a small thread of satisfaction—not many landlubbers know to refer to a ship as she and not it—and felt his brows knead a little at the mention of this book, that has apparently featured his ship. He'd concern himself with it later.

Hook descended below deck, the muscles in his arms burning, as well as his healing ribs from the run-in with the bloody driving vessel. Hook winced as he carried Emma down the stairs.

He brought her to his own cabin, kicking open the door.

As gently as he could, he laid her down on his bed.

Something he'd envisioned more than once, but never, ever, like this.

She didn't wake as he did, and it made his chest tighten. Apart from her head injury, her other injuries didn't seem life-threatening, which was his only solace.

It still didn't release the anxiety around his heart.

"She's gonna be okay… right?"

It startled him a bit again to hear the lad's voice break the silence, and he turned to see Henry standing in the doorway, again looking worriedly at his mother.

"Aye," said Hook, trying to believe the words himself. "I'll make sure of it." He knew a good deal of first aid, and could at least tend to some of her injuries now.

He hesitated though; no part of him wanted to leave her alone here, but…

Someone had to captain the ship.

Perhaps…

He looked at Henry.

"How do you feel about captaining the Jolly Roger?" asked Hook.

Henry's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Wh—what?" he stammered. "But I don't know how to sail," he mumbled.

"I can teach you." he said. At Henry's hesitation, Hook said, "I need someone to keep an eye on the ship while I tend to your mother."

It looked like a million emotions raced through Henry's eyes. But he looked at his mother, and then squared his shoulders a little, like he was taking on an enormous responsibility. He nodded nervously.

Hook gave Emma a last look before leaving, brushing his fingers over her hair. It felt like tearing himself in half to walk out of the cabin and climb back above deck. Even just a few moments away from her felt like breaking the vow he made to her.

He sighed at the tightness in his chest and quickly walked Henry to the helm.

Hook's eyes suddenly fell to where he had carved out port and starboard.

His voice was suddenly lost somewhere in his throat.

Not a century ago, he had stood here with young Baelfire, with the same intention to teach the boy to sail.

Hook looked at Henry, who was waiting eagerly for instruction.

A muscle ticked in Hook's jaw.

Shaking himself, Hook gestured to the etching in the wood. "First things first. Port and starboard." He gestured each for Henry, watching the boy's attentive gaze follow his gestures, listening closely as Hook quickly explained the basics of setting sail.

Henry listened, seeming again like every task Hook gave him was the most important task in the world. But soon, they were setting sail into the open sea.

Hook called him back to the helm, wind tousling their hair. "Now," said Hook, watching the sky, following the path of the stars. "One notch to port," he instructed, and Henry acquiesced perfectly. Hook couldn't help a smile. "You're a natural, lad."

Henry's smile was brighter than the moon.

"I'm going to tend to your mother," said Hook once Henry had things well enough in hand. Hook's chest burned; he'd been fighting the urge to return to Emma every moment since he'd left her side. "Remember what I taught you and come find me if something is amiss."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" said Henry, giving him a little salute.

Something warm shifted in his chest.

He gave Henry a nod of approval, and descended the stairs.


Emma was still unconscious when he returned.

Hook rummaged through his desk for rags, rum and bandages.

None of which were too far out of reach after the past few weeks.

Henry had given him his hook back, and Hook had been right; there wasn't any Dreamshade remaining on the steel, but he was still planning to clean it properly later. He didn't take any chances when it came to Dreamshade.

So he left the hook on his desk. Besides, it was hard to be… gentle with a hook.

It stunned him for a moment to realize he hadn't had a reason, a need, a desire, to be gentle, until now.

Until Emma.

He looked at her, still asleep in his bed.

Hook crossed the cabin and sat hesitantly at the edge of his bed.

Emma was still, the only movement from her being the gentle rise and fall of her chest. It was as unnerving as it was a relief.

He'd never quite shake seeing Milah as still as she had been when she'd died.

Milah.

Emotions that had been hidden behind fear and adrenaline suddenly rose sharply in his chest.

"I will avenge you, my love. If it is the last thing I do."

The words had been spoken, promised, inside his own head, as he lay her body to rest in the sea.

He'd watched until the waves took her, a heaviness settling in his chest.

That heaviness sat where he used to feel a warmth at her every glance, and her every touch.

That heaviness followed him to Neverland. It followed him everywhere.

It was something no amount of rum could ease.

And gods knew he tried.

But…

Here, watching Emma sleep…

Safe, alive

He realized something.

Something he hadn't realized until now.

The heaviness.

It was gone.

Something had lifted from his chest.

And the more he thought about it, it wasn't just today.

It was something he felt after he'd met her.

He'd once thought, lying awake in bed, listening to the cries of the Lost Ones in Neverland, that killing the Crocodile would lift that weight. That it would grant him some sort of contentment, some sort of relief.

And he'd done it.

He'd killed the Crocodile.

He'd avenged Milah, even inadvertently.

And yet…

The contentment and relief he felt had nothing to do with meeting his purpose, or honoring Milah.

His eyes fell to Emma.

Every bit of relief he felt was solely due to seeing that rise and fall of her chest.

He tried to imagine if she hadn't been there, if it had just been him and the Crocodile.

But without Emma…

There was no relief.

The heaviness only seemed to feel… more heavy, ironically weighted with an emptiness that, deep down, Hook knew had been there all along.

It was a loneliness that revenge didn't cure.

"Don't leave."

Emma's words carried every ounce of that loneliness he felt.

If he had simply killed the Crocodile for Milah, if Emma hadn't been there…

His life would be nothing but a purpose met.

Milah was still gone.

All he would be left with was the silence on his ship every night.

Alone.

Killing Rumplestiltskin wasn't anything like he thought it would be.

He'd held onto his need for revenge like a lifeline all this time. Without it…

Bloody hell, he had no idea what he would have done without Emma.

There would be nothing to do.

No life left to be lived.

His eyes once again found Emma.

Emma…

She felt like a reason to live.

She felt like the reason to live.

He only wished that he had made it to her sooner, before the Crocodile had hurt her.

With a sigh, Hook picked up a rag, and began to gently clean the blood from her face, wishing he could erase her pain—the pain inflicted by both the demon who attacked her, and the one in her past who had left her—just as easily.