A/N: Who's up for some CaptainSwan heart-to-heart stuff? Enjoy! R&R!
Emma's cellphone went off two minutes after seven. She was already awake and brewing coffee. It was David who should've been at the station. He was taking the early shift, letting her rest and heal a little longer before she went back into work. If it were up to him, she'd be on leave, for like, a month. The man took the news of his daughter being beaten and nearly raped as well as she expected.
As in, he lost his shit, and Mary Margaret had to drag him to his truck, so they could on a long drive. They'd been gone for the entire day and didn't resurface until Granny's Thanksgiving Dinner. He ate nothing but did help himself to two glasses of brandy.
"Yo," she answered, playfully. "It's only seven. Black Friday sales don't—"
"Canterbury is dead."
Emma's eyes widened, and she froze. "David, what did you do?"
"He was dead when I got here. Someone broke into the station last night, and I'm going to watch the video surveillance, but you're the sheriff and should be here when I do."
Ten minutes later, Emma sprinted into the station. Un-showered and in questionably clean clothes. David was taking pictures of Canterbury with his cellphone, the body on the floor. His cell door ajar. Deep grooves around the keyhole. She stepped closer, gaping in horror at the chunk missing from his neck. Blood everywhere. He was nearly beheaded. Like a scoop of flesh had been torn out of his throat.
"What the actual fuck?"
"I'd say watch your mouth, young lady, but I'll let it slide. This definitely warrants a fuck or two. Let's see who did this." David shuffled over to the television and pressed play on the VCR. Her father took the remote and fast-forwarded through the footage. Up until midnight, only Canterbury was in the station. He laid on his cot, one long leg lazily thrown over the side. His hands were on his stomach. His eyelids were heavy, but he wasn't asleep.
When the time in the corner of the screen read five after midnight, Emma cupped her mouth when seeing Hook strolling into view. Brace and hook attached to his left arm because of course he would have more than the set she had hidden away in her apartment.
"Emma, that's…" David started, gesturing to the screen.
"Our John Doe."
"Killian." He wasn't going to forget the name of the naked man he caught his daughter kneeling in front of.
Emma folded her arms, glaring at the screen. So the jackass was still here.
The audio wasn't great. The exchange between Hook and Canterbury garbled. Damn the old technology in this place. She'd have to play the footage again later and mess with the sound. Hook was talking to Canterbury who stood up and began backing away towards the wall, putting as much distance as he could from the pirate. Whatever Hook was saying, it terrified a man who had eight inches on him and outweighed him by fifty pounds.
On the screen, Hook jimmied the keyhole of the cell door with his attachment. Soon enough, Hook swung the door open, and Emma had to turn away from the TV. Her ears picked up a scuffle and then the inevitable scream, which was cut short by a thick, wet gurgle. She rolled her eyes at herself and bucked up the courage to face the screen again. At this point, Hook was leaving the scene. His shoulders squared, his steely expression spattered in fresh blood. Not an ounce of remorse for his actions.
"We have to find him." Emma stomped over to the VCR and pausing the video.
"We probably should, I agree."
She whipped her head over her shoulder. "Probably? He murdered an unarmed man."
He at least had the sense to appear sheepish after that. "You're right, but I wouldn't call Canterbury a man. There are a few choice words I'd rather call him—"
"Don't make this personal—"
"That's impossible. You're my daughter."
"Then you can't be my deputy." Which wasn't entirely fair of her to say given how Canterbury roughed her up and nearly assaulted her. In another town, they'd both be removed from the case.
"I'm going to call the morgue." David took out his cellphone.
"I suppose Storybrooke doesn't have bioremediation specialists," Emma quipped.
Phone to ear, David threw her a confused look. "What is that?"
"People who clean up juicy crime scenes."
"I thought forensic teams did that." A fond smile painted his lips. "Your mother and I have been watching Criminal Minds—Yes, hello. This is David Nolan. I'm at the station. We have a body needing to be picked up."
The left corner of Emma's mouth curled as she pictured the couple snuggled up on their dated couch under a soft, pink blanket drinking cinnamon hot chocolate and addictively watching weird psychos kill people outlandishly weird ways.
David finished the phone call and returned to her side, hands on his hips. "We've got to talk about this guy. This…Killian. I didn't ask anything before because—"
"You were respecting my space. I get it. I still—"
"Who is he, Emma?"
"He's nobody. He's…" She gestured to the TV screen, racking her brain to come up with a good story that didn't involve Neverland. "He came here with Cora."
"…okay…? From the Enchanted Forest."
She dipped her chin. "Killian was allies with her. I had been hoping to use him to help me get Henry back, but he and Regina are gone. Killian went AWOL. Cora is still unaccounted for."
"She could be with him."
That was something Emma had considered. "She could've been the one ordering him to kill Canterbury—"
"I doubt that."
Emma made a face at David as if to ask, 'do tell?'.
"I know you're not giving me the full story when it comes to you and this Killian—"
She opened her mouth to interject.
"—Let me finish. You're a good liar. Better than your mother, but you both have this tell—"
"I don't have a tell."
"You have your mother's chin, and both get really stiff when lying."
"How does a chin get stiff—?"
"He killed Canterbury for you. He must've found out what he tried to do."
Emma shook her head violently. She wasn't going to believe that. Hook wouldn't kill for her…
Wait.
He had.
Starkey.
But Hook said he did it because she had turned Starkey against him.
Then he backpedaled at the hospital, wanting to explain why he said what he said and did what he did. How could she believe anything coming out of his mouth?
She shook her head. "He and Cora put their heads together and arranged this for whatever reason."
David removed the VHS from the player and waved it at her. "I guess we'll find out. I'll try working on the audio."
"I'm going to go find him."
He sighed. "The coroner is coming. I'll clean up the mess. Go rest. Go shopping with your mom and Ruby—"
"Are you kidding me?"
"He's obviously not going anywhere, and you haven't been able to find him yet."
Emma begrudgingly left the station, returning home. After a shower, a quick breakfast of coffee and Nutella on toast, she was in line at Gold's.
Believe it or not, he was having a Black Friday event, and there were five people in line waiting for the door to unlock.
They were probably the village idiots back in the Enchanted Forest.
Unlike most of the stores in Storybrooke, which were opening earlier than usual, Mr. Gold's Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer was going to open at the usual time.
Belle came up to the door, waving jovially at the sparse group through the glass. She flipped the closed sign to open and opened the door, beckoning them inside.
Emma had a feeling the Black Friday event at Gold's shop had more to do with Belle. She wondered how the charming, sweet woman convinced her paramour to have a sale.
"Come in, all of you. We have coffee, tea, and hot chocolate." She gestured to a small table by the entrance which had all she promised plus butter cookies and digestive biscuits. "I know there aren't any prices attached to anything. If there's anything you like, bring it up to me at the register, you and I can work out a price."
Emma approached Belle when she was behind the counter, not wanting to corner her. Belle was…precious. Aside from her love-interest, Emma couldn't find anything at fault with her and didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, especially there where she ought to feel safe. If Gold was allowing her to run the show for the day without him being directly involved, that probably meant the shop was meant to feel like hers, too.
Emma greeted with a nod. "How are things?"
The woman gave her a knowing look. "If you're here to talk to Rumple, I'm afraid you're out of luck. He's at home and doesn't want to be bothered."
"It was you I actually wanted to talk to." Emma glanced around the shop, unsure what she was looking for but knew all the seen contents in their glasses wasn't what she needed. "I'm sure he would know the answer to this question, but I don't want to owe him another favor."
Belle gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm trying to get you out of it."
Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Helping me with Ashley was more than enough. Don't worry about it. Do you think you could help me?"
"Maybe," she replied, hopeful.
"I'm unfamiliar with magic." Emma reflected on the hot whiteness that shot from her hands when defending herself against Canterbury. Something she had sworn Ruby to secrecy over and had yet to tell her parents. "And I'm wondering if there's a way to track a person down with it."
The brunette blinked in surprise and then she grinned. "Rumple can brew locator potions. We actually have several."
"Do you have any here?"
Belle shook her head no. "But I can get a vial for you."
"How much?" Emma pulled out her wallet.
"I couldn't ask money from you, Emma."
Emma placed three, crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the counter. "You may not want to charge me, but I'd rather pay. I don't think Gold would appreciate you giving one of his potions away. Especially to me."
Belle seemed to be considering her words. "True. But if I told him you were using it to find Henry, he might be fine with it. He told me he wasn't trying to track down Regina anymore, but I know he is."
"Yes, I'm trying to find Henry." Emma pushed the three Franklins towards Belle. "Can I get two locator potions?"
The other woman grimaced and then hesitantly picked up the bills and then opened the register. "Yes, all right, and I hate to bring this up. I really do, but Rumple is too proud. The break-in a month ago. He'd really, really like those things back. I know it's not top priority with everything that's happened these last few weeks, but he'd be over the moon if he could get back that shawl and teacup. I would be, too."
"The chipped teacup." Emma nodded. Of course. Made sense. Sort of.
Rumplestiltskin was the Beast.
Weird.
"Are you going to be at the station tonight?"
"Yeah."
"I'll drop by then with the potions."
"Thanks." The bell from the door chimed. Emma looked over her shoulder and saw five more village idiots enter the shop. One of them was Mary Margaret. Belle waved at her and beckoned the woman closer. "I've got it right here for you, Mary Margaret."
Belle crouched down, disappearing by the register, and then popped back up, holding a polished, wooden box.
"Thank you, Belle. Emma, what are you doing here?" Mary Margaret asked breathless, her arms weighed down by ten or more shopping bags.
"Black Friday shopping."
"Your chin stiffened, honey."
Emma smiled thinly and distracted Mary Margaret by giving her a hug. "I'm going to go now. I'll talk to you later."
When Emma returned to the station for her afternoon shift, Canterbury's cell was empty and clean. The other two cells were occupied by a couple of disgruntled looking townsfolk, and David filled her in on the fistfight that went down at Jolene's Arts & Crafts over a fake, but lavishly decorated Christmas tree.
"Did you get anything on the audio?" she asked David who was putting on his jacket.
He paused for a moment and then nodded. "I got it working. I heard the conversation."
They were in her office, and David turned around to close the door, giving them privacy.
"He did kill Canterbury because he found out what he did to you. He forced a confession out of him first and then ripped out his throat. I'll type up the transcript tomorrow—"
"You don't need to…"
"I have to. When he's custody, we'll need it and the video for evidence. I got his prints from the cell and created a profile for him in the system. I compared it to some unsolved cases within the last while. It matched the prints found at Gold's shop from that breaking and entering case."
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Who is he to you?"
"Gold?"
David crossed his arms, bemused. "Emma."
Emma crossed her own arms. "You can't play the Dad card on me, and you really, really don't want to know. You're not ready to know, and I'm sure as hell not ready to tell you or Mary Margaret."
"So you're not going to tell me why this man you seem to barely know or even tolerate would kill Canterbury for you." His face paled. "My God. Is he obsessed with you? Is he stalking you? Has he sent you any inappropriate letters or pictures. Has he threatened you—"
"Slow your roll. This isn't Criminal Minds. Killian is not obsessed with me. He's not sending me nasty letters or pictures of his dick. Jesus. Look, I'm going to figure this out. I'm going to find him and bring him in for questioning—"
"Like hell you're doing this on your own. He's dangerous, and when you don't return his feelings, he could hurt you, Emma—"
"No, he can't, David, and he won't." Emma pulled out her Glock 22 from her drawer. "Because my friend and I have already been acquainted with him. And as dangerous as he is, he bleeds and passes out like the rest of them."
"I don't care!"
Emma recoiled at his outburst, and David's anger instantly dissolved. His expression apologetic. "Emma, sweetheart. I'm sorry."
His hands reached towards her shoulders, like he was about try and hold her. But then he let his arms fall, thinking better of it.
"I know you can take care of yourself," he said, his voice overly calm. "I just ask you cut me a little slack. For me, you were a baby not even two months ago and you should've never had the upbringing you did. You were meant to be a princess and the heir of your mother's kingdom. You were supposed to be cherished and safe. Not helping strange, naked men get dressed and getting assaulted in the woods."
Emma nodded slowly, her brows knitting together. "David?"
"Yes?" He sounded exhausted.
"I…" God, was she really doing this? "I'm going to be seeing Dr. Hopper once a week starting after the new year. Would you…want to join me on a few sessions? You…we clearly need to work out some things if we're going to making this sheriff and deputy gig pan out."
"Emma, yes. I would love that—"
"You say that now." Her face twisted into a bitter smile. Going through the psychotherapy reel was nothing new for her having grown up in the foster system and very rarely were those experiences cathartic. Sometimes, reliving those memories made them more real and more traumatic. "David, we're both going to hear and say things that will make each other angry. Think about it before really saying yes."
David dipped his, though hesitantly. "Okay. I will."
Emma spent the rest of the day adding to Hook's criminal record. Inside his file, she paper-clipped a picture of him she printed from the surveillance footage. It was a grainy photo and would have to do until she dragged him in for mugshots and processing. He'd have to wait until after the New Year for a lawyer when the new district attorney would start his or her term. And Emma very much doubted Gold would want to represent him.
Emma pulled out a phonebook and browsed through the pages, finding the number of Storybrooke's judge Laura Grace and her a call and then started typing up an affidavit for a warrant. It felt silly and unnecessary, but Emma was sure she needed to hold the community to the country's laws. At least for the time being. There should be room for changes next election season. Until then, Storybrooke, Maine would abide by state and federal laws within reason. Emma sure as hell wasn't going to invite a federal officer into this cooky, fabricated town or if it was even possible to do so.
With the help of Google, a template, and Her Honor Grace; Emma finished her affidavit. She submitted it to Grace, brewed a strong cup of coffee, and allowed the two in custody to be let go with a warning and five-hundred-dollar fees.
Belle arrived a little after eight. A tiny, Christmas-y giftbag around her wrist stuffed full of sparkly tissue paper.
"I was allowed one." She pulled out a small vial from the deep pocket of her extremely fashionable winter's coat which matched her stylish winter boots. For all things aside, Emma could see Rumplestiltskin spoiled Belle. "So I brought you an early Christmas present along with it. The instructions what to do are in there."
Emma took the offered bag and peaked inside, seeing another vial. "Won't he be upset with you?"
"He'll get over it." Belle laughed. "There's good in him. I know it's hard to see sometimes."
Emma forced a smile and thanked her for the two vials. When Belle left, Emma went home to her apartment. There, she opened the gift bag and fished out the vial. Wrapped around the tiny glass was a slip of paper with the instructions on what to do.
A little after ten, Emma found herself parked at the harbor, guilt gnawing at her gut. She shouldn't be out searching for Hook alone, but her parents seemed to be aiming for another all-nighter of headboard banging.
The floating hook, which she'd been keeping in the nightstand at her apartment these passed few weeks, hovered over her steering wheel and then tapped the glass of the windshield.
"There's nothing," she hissed at it.
The hook tapped the glass again and then zoomed over to the driver's window. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Emma huffed, narrowing her gaze at the cutesy Hinkleys, Catalinas, and Boston Whalers. No way was he hiding out in one of those.
She killed the engine and climbed out of the car, and the hook glided passed her. The hairs on Emma's neck stood on end as she approached an empty dock and watched Hook's appendage soar over the water and fucking disappear into nothing.
Not paying attention to the slick sleet beneath her boots, Emma quickened her pace when reaching the dock, hoping to see where the hook went, and lost her footing like a clumsy rookie-cop on her first bust.
Emma flailed backwards and hit the ice cold water.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Her arms flapped and attempted to find leverage on the dock. She tried lifting herself out of the water, and her whole body felt impossibly heavy and frozen. Her legs sank as her hands could do nothing more but cling to the lip of the dock. Her head rested against the wet wood, teeth clicking together.
Heavy footfalls rattled the boards. Emma forced her head to move, so she could look up and see Hook sliding, more gracefully and with purpose, to his knees in front of her. His arms looped underneath hers, and he hoisted her out of the water. She landed on top of him. Instinct forced her to cling to him and squish her face against the warm, naked V of his chest.
"You're all right, Swan. We'll get you inside." He sat them up, and his right arm encircled her while his hook carefully moved her wet hair off her face.
"I-Inside wh-where?" she stammered.
He helped her to her feet and walked her up invisible steps and for the first time in eleven years, Emma found herself on the main deck of the Jolly Roger.
"What the hell?"
Hook laughed.
Emma had little choice but to join him down the narrow stairwell leading to his cabin. When they approached the door, her legs stopped, and she shook her head.
"Can we go to…where I used to sleep? Please. If no one is there."
Hook stared down at her, his blue eyes unreadable. "It's just us, Swan. Alas, your old quarters haven't had a tenant in sometime and isn't equipped for one tonight."
"Where's the crew? Where's Smee?"
Hook swung open his cabin door. "We'll get you warm with some blankets and rum."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Ah, but I have a gift for you, Swan."
"I got your got gift, Hook, and you made a hell of a mess."
The slightly warmer air from inside his cabin reached passed the threshold and tickled her face. Hook coaxed her inside, and her eyes darted from corner to corner. Everything looked almost exactly the same. It was like no time had passed at all.
"Apologies."
"For the mess or the murder?" Emma sat down at the table, and she crossed her shivering arms. Trying to find heat where none was to be found.
Hook went over to one of his trunks and lifted the lid, pulling out a stack of blankets. "You'll need to strip, love, or you'll catch your death."
"I know," she grumbled. Her fingers shook when trying to grab a hold of the zipper on her jacket. "FYI, I'm arresting you for the murder of Thomas Canterbury. I have a warrant and everything."
"FYI?"
"For your information."
"I've forgotten how odd you speak. Here." Hook set the blankets on the table where Emma noticed books and magazines not part of his original collection she'd come to know in Neverland.
Her hands drummed the cover of Exploring America while her gaze drifted to The Complete Works of Shakespeare, The Complete Novels of Jane Austen, Lord of the Flies, a world civ textbook, a few National Geographics, and a fucking Playboy.
"You got yourself quite the collection here. If Lord of the Flies doesn't give you post-traumatic stress, I don't know what will. Where did you get all these books and why? Did you stumble upon a college freshman's reading list for inspiration?" Finally, she was able to grip her zipper, freeing herself from her jacket which she flung to the floor. Her numb fingertips fumbled with the laces of her boots, and she considered kicking Hook in the face when he knelt at her feet to help her with them.
"I like to be informed of my whereabouts."
"Oh, well, the Playboy will help you for sure."
Hook's blue eyes brightened at her sarcasm. "Those women have nothing on you, lass."
He loosened the laces of her left boot, deftly removing it and her sock. His lips twitched at seeing her cotton-candy pink toenails and then moved on to her right foot. Once she was barefoot, she stood and attempted to unbuckle her belt. Hook remained crouched, staring at her hands and the button of her jeans.
"Are you going to stay there and look at my crotch all night or are you going to be gentleman and turn around?"
"Need you more assistance?" Her sweater and ridden up, exposing a strip of her lower abdomen. When he spoke, his warm breath hit her skin, and she realized how close he was to her. She was reluctantly reminded of his wet, hot tongue cascading over her breasts, abdomen, and lower. After he brought her to…her first ever climax, he had rested his head on her belly. Warm and damp puffs of breath blowing across her navel as she combed her fingers through his hair.
The entire experience had been…
Wrong.
So wrong.
Inappropriate.
Illegal by this country's standards.
And quick.
Emma had been young and inexperienced at the time. Most of her life, she shared a bedroom with two or more girls. She had felt desire in her teenage years and had been aroused, but she shied away from investigating her own body. Emma would've never heard the end of it from her bunkmates if they noticed she was trying to rub one out.
So when Hook used his mouth on her, the wave slammed into her fast. The pleasure had been both brutal and incredible. Overpowering and frightening. He tasted her like she had experienced pleasure before—probably because he had no idea what to do with a sixteen-year-old virgin—and wanted to outdo any lover she may've had before him because he was nothing if not egotistical. When in reality, he had nothing to prove.
"I got it handled."
He finally got to his feet and turned around. Emma peeled off her sweater then lowered her jeans to her knees and no further. The wet denim saturated her bandage and wet the adhesive. Lowering her pants removed the dressing from her leg.
A sharp hiss from behind him had Hook nearly jerking his head over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
He heard an exasperated sigh. "Do you have any bandages?"
"Did you injure yourself when falling in the water?"
"Bandages. Do you have them?"
"They're in…Let me see."
"No"
"We're far beyond modesty, you and I, Swan."
"Look, in case you've forgotten, I'm here to arrest you."
A smile formed on his lips, and he scratched the back of his neck. "Have all your arrests gone this well?"
She snorted. "Are you kidding? You're not running away, you're not attempting to steal my gun or pepper spray and use them against me, and you're not trying to manhandle me. This is amazing and seriously. The bandages. I'm bleeding on your floor."
"All right. I'll get them."
"Hold on." In his peripheral, he saw an arm grab a blanket from the table. He heard flapping of heavy fabric and then a grumble. "Okay, then."
He turned around and saw she had the patchwork quilt draped over head and body like a cloak, only her face visible to him. He smiled because she looked rather adorable, but his humor was short-lived. In the dim light of his gas lamps, he saw her ankles and bare feet. A steady trickle of blood from above pooling at the inner arch of her foot.
He circled the table to reach his bed and opened one of the drawers beneath the mattress, retrieving moleskin, clean cloth strips, twine, and an alcohol he brewed specifically for open-wound injuries. He thought back to the day prior when he noticed Emma's limping when escorting Canterbury into the brig.
Hook slammed the drawer shut. "I'd kill him again, Swan."
"Oh, my God. I can't believe how easy you're making this for me. A confession. I mean, we already have proof, but this is just extra icing, I guess."
He placed the supplies on the already crowded table. "Burying my hook in his throat was no less than he deserved. If we were back in the Enchanted Forest, he would've hung for his crimes against you. Your parents would've made sure of it. If they didn't push for the same here, the common folk would believe them weak and foolish. The bastard dared assault a princess."
"And what about your crimes, Hook?"
The man gave her a blank, leveled stare. He refused to wear his thoughts on his face or sleeve, though her question wounded him. He should've assumed how she felt about their brief dalliance in Neverland. Clearly, she regarded him as a lecher.
"I suppose he and I do share similar crimes—"
"You've been going around town raping girls? Because if you have, fuck Maine's laws. You're shark chum."
"I mean to say we both laid hands on you."
Her green eyes bore into his face, lips pressed thinly together. "There was nothing similar about it. I meant your crimes as a pirate and you doing pirate-y things like stealing, not fighting fair, murdering, and being a goddamned jackass."
"You don't see me perverse for how I behaved towards you in Neverland?"
The frown forever marring her face deepened. Her brows knitted together, and she avoided eye contact. "I see the man who pretty much threw me and Baelfire over to Pan. Turn around."
With that said, she abruptly shirked the blanket preserving her modestly.
Hook's eyes damned near fell out of his head at the sight of Emma's dewy, pale skin and the odd but tantalizing coverings holding her breasts and obscuring her quim. "Allow me to explain what happened in Neverland," he whispered, distracted.
Emma placed her foot on the chair and grabbed the vial of alcohol and a cloth strip. Uncorking the bottle and dousing the thin bit of fabric, she patted the inflamed, oozing wound spanning from knee to upper-inner thigh. His focus lingered there and then to the soaked, pink material which sported a red frilly trim and a bow. The strange, indecent scrap matched the tiny corset lovingly embracing her breasts. It, too, had red frills, and a bow. Said bow resided above her sternum and had a tiny, golden heart dangled teasingly from it.
"I'm listening," she said shrilly, dampening another cloth to dab at her injury.
He turned around to face the windows and away from her, bracing himself against the cabinetry. "Bad form, Swan."
"You said we were above modesty."
"I assumed you wearing a chemise and corset."
" No one wears those things here anymore. Has Playboy taught you nothing?"
"The text and pictures are hardly rooted in reality," he replied defensively.
"You took Jane Austen as legit because of course you would." She made a disgruntled sound. "It's cool you're not gaping at me anymore, but you've seen it all before, so there was no reason to be looking at me like a steak dinner."
"It's been eleven years, Swan, and you're hardly that sixteen-year-old girl anymore."
Emma quieted for a moment. "Weren't you going to tell me about your nefarious deal with Pan or whatever?"
"Aye, that I was." He pulled out his flask and took several gulps.
"You need to drink to talk about it?"
"If you can talk about Neverland and Pan whilst sober, Swan," he gave her a sideways salute with his bottle, "then you truly are a wonder."
Hook took another drink and massaged his face, letting his gaze rest on the waters outside the window. "I'll get right into it and say I was left with no choice to do what I did. It was all Pan's doing."
"He forced you to say those things me?"
He exhaled softly, hoping she could hear the remorse in his voice. "I didn't mean a word of it. I needed you and Bae to hate me. Pan figured Bae wouldn't leave otherwise."
Emma noticed the tension in Hook's shoulders, and her superpower wasn't raising any alarms. He was speaking the truth. She reflected on the relationship Bae had with Hook. Bae had cared for the older man in his own way. Had become loyal to him but not in the same way a crewman would show it. He hadn't always followed orders and would, in fact, sass and disobey his captain frequently. Like a rebellious teenager who had nothing and no one, save the guardianship of a stepdad for a hundred years. Bae had little choice but to soften towards him and eventually fall into the safe arms of the man who loved his dead mother.
Bile lingered at the back of her throat because none of it was fair. For her or Bae.
"If he didn't want us hanging around anymore, why not just head straight for the jugular and kill us?" she asked bitterly.
"He had his reasons for keeping me alive and returning me to Misthaven, but I wasn't privy to know why he allowed you and Bae to leave. I've never known him to return lost children when they've failed to acclimate."
Emma reached for the bandages and twine. "Looking back. How we escaped. We escaped Neverland without a hitch. We were so relieved when we got here, we never questioned our luck. And when we released Pan's shadow, it never came back for us."
"That doesn't mean it hasn't been watching and reporting to Pan."
An icy pool of sick churned in her belly at his words. Her chin trembled, and the chill on her skin worsened. She hurriedly tied off the bandage before draping the quilt back over her body.
"Did he know who I was?" Her words were less than a whisper.
The question unsettled Hook, and the uncomfortable answer to it sunk deeply into his bones. "I think he might've."
"Did you?"
"I would've controlled myself better if I had, love. A young princess deserves better form."
Her gaze drifted to his bed, her cheeks warming.
"I was weak for you, Emma," he said and glanced over his shoulder at her.
Weak?
Weak wasn't a term she'd use to describe Hook. The soft, raspy tone he used to deprecate himself, contradicted the furious violence he displayed at the police station and in Neverland. Unfair would be a better word to describe him and his actions. He wooed an impressionable lost girl and murdered a cornered man.
For her.
And not for the first time.
Starkey. At one point, one of Hook's most trusted.
Emma hadn't asked him to. Hadn't wanted him to. She didn't need or want anyone defending her honor.
"And here you are, eleven years later, and I fear I still am." His Adam's apple bobbed as he faced her again.
She wanted to ask him if that's why he still lurked in Storybrooke, but the inevitable lie he'd tell her would piss her off more than the truth. Hook's gunshot wound was healed enough. He wasn't hiding away in his ship waiting for her to find him, so they could talk about Neverland. He was biding his time and plotting.
Revenge. It kept him anchored.
Not her.
He hadn't come here for her, and he wasn't staying for her.
Emma draped her cold, wet clothes over the back of her chair and padded over to him, keeping the quilt snug around her. Her eyes lifted to the top of his head and slowly lowered, settling on his lips for a moment and then back to his eyes. Kohl needlessly still lined his eyes, his lashes already thick and dark. But she didn't it hate in Neverland and didn't now.
"I do have a gift for you."
Emma expression became skeptical.
"A couple, actually." He went to his bed and opened the cabinet beneath, pulling out a quiver and a bow.
Her quiver and bow.
"…oh…" She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. The strap of her quiver hung from his hook, and he held the bow with his hand towards her. Offering. "You still have them."
"I hear your mother was an archer herself."
She knotted the quilt tightly around herself and apprehensively grabbed the items from him. Amazed to see them in such great condition after eleven years. Better yet, he hadn't tossed them. They didn't look the same, but the days on sea hadn't ruined them completely either. Hook had cared for them to some degree.
"Yeah, she was. Is, probably."
"You two could go and do a bit of target practice—"
"Oh, God, no." Emma choked, violently shaking her head. "She'd want to know how I learned."
"Have you truly told your parents nothing of Neverland?"
Her eyes lowered, and she shuffled back over to the chair, setting them on the seat of it. "Thank you for these. I can't believe you still have them."
He went to his safe and grabbed one of Cora's items she brought with her.
"What is that?" asked Swan.
Pushing aside a few his books on the table, he set down the golden-framed, white globe.
To Be Continued...
