Hook + modern transportation

Thanks to dramawiie for suggesting modern transportation and euphoric-melancholyy for suggesting first time in a car!

And thank you everyone for your patience, since I was unable to update last week.


Hook stared at the back of the vessel, unsure of why the sight of it filled him with dread and helplessness. After all, it was just a piece of machinery, and while he was still new to the Land Without Magic, he felt that he was now accustomed to such things as cars. But there was something about Swan's car that left him with a very unpleasant feeling he couldn't quite place.

"I know that look," Henry said as he arrived, carrying his rucksack. Was it called a rucksack here? "Avery's mom won't even let him ride in it."

"Pardon?"

"Henry, stop," Swan warned. She was carrying one last bag, and he was pleased to see she was wearing one of her leather jackets again. At least something was right in the world, as it were. "Let's get the bags in the trunk, okay?"

"I'll just keep my backpack with me. Shotgun!"

"No, come on, kid."

"But you said it was an eight hour trip!"

"It is, but I have to drive and Killian isn't sitting in the back."

"Ugh, fine." And with that, Henry pulled open a door, hopped in, and shut the door behind him.

"Have you ridden in one of these yet?" Swan asked quietly. Hook wasn't sure how soundproof cars were, but from the volume of her voice, it seemed as though she was concerned Henry would overhear their conversation.

"I think I may have," he admitted. "Tamara somehow managed to bring me back to Storybrooke. I was unconscious for the majority of the journey, but I awoke in a strange metal box that felt as though it were moving."

"Well, this should be better," she reassured him. "To get in, you're going to go in the same door Henry did, but you'll sit in the front. See the handle?" She pointed and he nodded. "You're going to pull on it like this." She gestured. "I'll do the same on my side. You can watch and see how I get in and how I close the door behind me. And you can watch me put on my seatbelt."

"Seatbelt?"

"Yeah, it's—Henry's staring at us, let's just go."

"Right." He took one last glance at the back of the car.

"You can ignore Henry's comment," she said gently. "It's really pretty safe."

"I'm not worried about that."

"Then what's wrong?"

He shook his head, and she shrugged before gesturing for him to go around to the right side of the car.

He wished he could identify what he was feeling, or even why he was feeling it.

He did as Swan had instructed, and sure enough, the door came unlatched and was easily pulled open, giving him plenty of space to move inside. He watched Swan first, as she stepped in sideways and sat at the same time.

It was clearly a well-practiced move on her part; his own attempt was a little less graceful. He'd been trying to act with similar speed, so as not to arouse Henry's suspicions, and while he succeeded in sitting down in his designated seat, he was unable to do so without hitting his head gently against the frame of the car door. Henry snickered before Swan silenced him with a glare.

Closing the door was easier, though Hook made sure that his entire person, including his attire, was out of the way before he did so. And he felt that Swan did a very good job of demonstrating the use of the seatbelt without being obvious that she was actually trying to demonstrate.

He was a tad uneasy as he thought about why he might be required to strap himself into the seat. After all, if one of Henry's friends wasn't even allowed in this particular vehicle, wouldn't that mean—

Swan jammed something into the console in front of her, and with a twist of her wrist, the car roared to life. The sound wasn't much quieter than it was from the exterior—would it make such a racket the entire time they were traveling?

"All right, here we go," she said, and he wondered if she was speaking to him or to herself.

And then the car began to move.

It was terrifying.

The Jolly Roger was the fastest ship in all the realms, due in equal parts to expert craftsmanship, enchanted wood, and his own superior skills as captain. Sailing aboard, he'd moved faster than this; it had taken him half as long to sail from Storybrooke to New York as Swan had said it would take to make the trip in reverse.

But somehow, even if this wasn't the fastest he'd ever traveled, it felt as though it were. And not in an exhilarating way. This was normal here? He nervously glanced back at Henry when he thought the lad might not notice he was being observed; the boy was staring out the window, looking entirely calm.

Swan swerved. She stopped abruptly and then immediately picked up speed again. Sometimes, she brought the front of the vehicle so close to the one ahead of her that Hook was convinced, beyond any doubt, that they would collide. He regretted for the first time in over a century that he did not own a shirt that would cover the part of his chest he knew would carry a bruise from the seatbelt.

"Ugh," Swan said disgustedly. They had been stopped for a few moments, and while he was trying to enjoy those moments, he was entirely frozen with stress anticipating Swan's next move. "I don't understand how there's such bad traffic right now."

"People are going to work, Mom," Henry said.

"I work," she replied, glaring at the sea of cars in front of them. "I drive here all the time. It's usually not this bad, even this early." She sighed heavily, which did nothing to release the tension he could see she was holding.

It was exhausting to wait in that sea of vehicles, even with Swan's quiet reassurance that the trip would improve once they were out of the city. But he was not used to being in such an enclosed space for such a long time, and even with (especially with) stale air blowing out of vents in the console, he felt stifled, suffocated, and nauseated.

At least it became easier for him to predict when Swan would move the car forward, and he grew used to the speed with which she did so, and the force with which she'd halt. He did wish she wouldn't wait until such a late moment to do the latter, but upon examination of the other cars in the vicinity, her methods were clearly typical of … captains? Pilots? What did one call oneself when operating a car? He turned to her and opened his mouth to ask before remembering Henry was sitting in the back. He quickly turned back to look out the window in front of him.

"What?" Henry asked. Clearly, the unasked question had not gone unnoticed.

"I, ah … was just going to ask your mother how she was faring," he lied. "She seems a little anxious."

"I'm fine," Swan replied. She glanced at him, and he could see she understood that he was lying for Henry's sake. "Just hate traffic."

Traffic, he assumed, must refer to the number of cars on the roadway, impeding their progress. He resisted the urge to point out that technically, they were a part of said traffic, if that were the case. But perhaps it meant something else.

Damn whoever had sent only enough memory potion for one. That he was unable to ask Swan simple questions about the realm was only adding to his anxiety.

"So," Henry said slowly, before Swan brought the car to another sudden stop. "What's your case about, Killian?"

As he began to quickly form a lie—looking for my brother, no, a friend—Swan answered instead. "Can't talk about the case, kid. You know the rules."

"Okay," Henry said, his tone indicating that he wasn't done prying. "So you're from England?"

Swan's glance in his direction indicated that he could answer in the affirmative. "Aye, I am."

"London?"

Swan was gripping the wheel with both hands, but she looked at him as she gently tapped her left index finger a single time. Ah, a code.

"That's right."

"Do you like living there?"

Single tap. "It's all right."

"I heard it's huge, like, even bigger than New York."

Single tap. "Aye, that it is."

Henry seemed bored with the simple answers, but what could be done about it? Hook had no idea what England or London were; little did the lad know that he knew more than Hook himself did.

"So why are you in the US?"

"Henry, come on." Swan was clearly losing her patience with both the other cars (traffic, he reminded himself) and Henry's questions. "Didn't you bring your phone and your DS?"

"Yeah, but you said it was going to be a long ride. I don't want to kill my batteries."

"You can use the car charger for your phone," she replied, as though this weren't something she often let him do.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"You're gonna let me play games the whole time?"

"Yep."

Henry paused; Hook imagined the boy was probably looking at his mother with skepticism. "All right." And within a few moments, all that could be heard from the rear of the vehicle was an intermittent tapping noise and the fidgeting of a budding adolescent.

After what felt like hours, they'd made some forward progress, and the number of cars on the roadway began to thin. Those that remained, including their own, gained speed, and as time wore on, as the city began to dwindle around them, that speed became greater and more constant.

Soon, they were flying across the road at an alarming pace, with trees and meadows appearing as frequently as other roadways and buildings. He saw that Emma's posture was relaxing a bit, now that this traffic business seemed to be done with.

He even found himself loosening up a bit, as he became more accustomed to the feeling of moving so quickly over land. It helped very much to be out in the open, where he could focus on the horizon. His nausea subsided, and he was able to take in the scenery a little, and appreciate the similarities and differences between this land and the realms he was familiar with. The edifices and signage dotting the countryside certainly reminded him that he was not home (but what was home anyway, besides the open seas aboard the Jolly Roger? And had that felt like home those last several months?). But otherwise, it was easier to believe he wasn't entirely lost in this strange place, and that perhaps it wasn't so strange after all.

Sometimes, they traveled through more densely populated regions, though none that remotely resembled New York City. Each time, he couldn't help but compare these cities and towns to Storybrooke—this one was bigger, that one smaller, this one with more businesses, this one with more roadways.

Storybrooke would have been his home, had Pan's curse not ruined everything. Wouldn't it have been? Hadn't he been planning to stay? Is this why he continued to think of it as the proper, correct place for him to be here in the Land Without Magic? Or was it simply because, assuming the residents still had their memories, he would fit right in without having to hide who he was? He anxiously risked a glance at Henry, who was engrossed in his device.

He loathed himself for resenting the boy's presence. He hardly knew the lad, after all, and hadn't even met him until they were all safely aboard the Jolly Roger, when Henry's mothers returned his heart to him. And they'd no chance to interact after that, with Pan's curse barreling towards them.

But this was the son of two people for whom he cared deeply. There was Baelfire—Neal, Neal, Neal, he wanted to be called Neal—whom he'd wanted to raise as his own son, first with Milah by his side, and then in her memory. Neal had risen to the occasion as best he could upon discovering he was a father. He'd come to Storybrooke, he'd found a way to Neverland, and once they'd been returned to the Enchanted Forest, he'd gone off to find a way back to his family. As ill-advised as the plan seemed, given that it involved trying to resurrect the Dark One, Hook could appreciate the man's drive.

(After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted deserved what he got. And what had Hook been doing during the past year?)

And then, of course, there was Swan. Courageous, stubborn, fierce, passionate, compassionate, beautiful Emma.

To resent her son's presence, all because it made it impossible for him to ask silly questions about the Land Without Magic, was dishonorable to the highest degree.

As the sun rose high in the sky, Swan maneuvered the car towards the right, taking them on a little side road marked with a lot of strange signage. Soon, they arrived at a small business with odd outdoor equipment, which she brought the car right up to before turning it off. "All right," she said, a little brightly. "I'm gonna fill up the car. I was thinking we'd stop at a drive-through for lunch, so this is a good time to use the bathroom and stretch your legs." He wasn't sure if she was speaking to Henry or both of them.

Henry moved first. "Okay, but can I get a chocolate bar? Post-lunch dessert?"

"Sure, hold on." Swan pulled out some currency and handed it over to Henry before undoing her seatbelt (how had she done that? He didn't quite see), opening her door, and pushing her own seat forward so Henry could exit. The lad then bounded out of the car and around the corner of the small building nearby.

Once he was out of sight, Swan pushed the seat back and sat back down. "Sorry, had to get out to let him out. Downside to having a two-door car. Anyway, how are you holding up?"

"I'm entirely fine, Swan," he replied evenly.

"Really?" she asked, voice filled with doubt.

He chuckled. "I'm pleased that we seem to be done with what you referred to as traffic," he admitted.

"Traffic is when there are a lot of cars on the road," she explained. "It's like … a state of being, I guess? It depends on the day, the time of day, any events going on. Obviously, you move faster when there's little to none."

"I gathered."

"You should get out and stretch your legs. I have to get gas." He furrowed his brow at her. Gas? "Uh, fuel, for the car. It runs on oil."

"Oh." Well, that was interesting. He'd assumed it just went.

"Yeah, and I have to get out of the car to do that. If you need to use the bathroom, it should be well-marked, somewhere along the back of that building, or inside. You can always ask Henry or the cashier."

"My thanks," he said. "How do I get out of this, though?" He gestured at the seatbelt.

She nodded and reached over, and he gulped at how close her hands were to his lap. She pressed a piece of the belt, where he'd originally inserted the metal bit, and the thing came undone. "There you go! You open the door by pulling that lever."

He did so, and it popped open effortlessly. "Again, thank you."

Stretching his legs felt wonderful, and the residual nausea he'd felt since they'd begun their journey finally disappeared. While he had no urgent need to relieve himself, Swan's brief discussion with Henry seemed to imply that they would not be stopping again for some time, and he had no desire to find himself with a full bladder, trapped inside the car indefinitely. As he approached the small building, Henry appeared, triumphantly waving something in his hand.

"I got some for you, too, Killian," he said, showing off his purchase. He held three rectangles of foil, wrapped in colorful paper.

"Thanks, lad," he replied. "Perhaps in the car," he added, when Henry tried to give him one of the bars. Henry nodded in understanding. "Can you point me in the direction of the bathroom?"

"Oh, yeah, it's just inside." Henry pointed at a large glass-panelled door. "It's actually pretty clean, and you don't even have to buy anything to use it."

"Excellent," he replied. "I'll be back momentarily then."

He approached the building and noticed, as he did so, that there did not appear to be any sort of handle or knob on the doors. But Henry had just been inside. How had he entered and exited?

The answer was magic, or something like it. As Hook stepped up to the door, it slid open, and remained so. Not wanting to seem as astonished as he was, he kept his face impassive and strode in, as though he'd been expecting the glass to move out of the way automatically.

The man behind the tall counter directed him, when asked of its location, to the bathroom, which was, as Henry had mentioned, reasonably clean. He used it quickly and, upon exiting, found Swan paying the man behind the counter before walking in his direction.

"I, uh." She blushed and pointed behind him. "I need to use the bathroom, too. Car's unlocked, so you can just get in. Oh, and Henry got chocolate for all three of us."

"Oh, that's what he was showing me." He didn't care much if the attendant thought it odd that he was unaware of what chocolate looked like in this realm. "That was thoughtful of him."

"It's my money!" she said indignantly, although she was smiling. She then seemed to realize something, and the smile instantly disappeared. She blushed. "Anyway, bathroom?"

"Aye, apologies." He stepped aside to let her pass before heading back to the car. This time, he was ready for the glass door to open without being touched. And he didn't hit his head getting back into the car either.

They stopped again shortly after that, at what proudly labeled itself a "DRIVE-THRU," and Hook found himself politely choking down a strange, hot disk of beef wedged between round pieces of bread. He would have questioned what it was exactly that Swan was feeding him, but again, Henry's presence prevented such a conversation. And besides, it would have been ungentlemanly, given that Swan and Henry were both eating the same meal without complaint.

More of the countryside passed by as they ate, as they tossed their refuse into a strange, crackly bag Swan produced from a compartment in front of him, as Henry switched out one device for another that made a significant amount of noise. The nausea that had plagued him for the first leg of their journey mostly stayed at bay, and he could admit that the velocity of the car was a little exhilarating. Perhaps Swan could teach him how to captain one of these some day? It wouldn't be as nice as having his own ship again, but it would make getting around Storybrooke a tad easier.

Then again, watching as Swan kept one hand on the wheel while moving a lever in between them, maybe this was a two-handed operation. He tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, he'd managed to get around the town on his own two legs just fine a year ago. And he wasn't even sure that being able to operate a car was something everyone could do in the Land Without Magic; certainly there were plenty of people in New York who didn't, from what he'd observed.

That made him feel slightly less discouraged, though he wasn't sure why.

For supper, he was pleased and relieved that Swan brought them to an actual establishment where they could exit the car, sit, and eat a real meal. The fish was dry and the vegetables poorly seasoned, but it was a far cry better than whatever they'd eaten earlier. Not only was it superior in texture and flavor, but the difference extended to his gut as well; as a result of their earlier meal, he'd spent several long, somewhat embarrassing minutes in the bathroom shortly after they'd arrived at the tavern.

Soon after they left, darkness fell. Fortunately, Swan's car had bright lights on the front to illuminate the road, but he still felt anxious about the conditions. There were other cars on the road—enough to make it clear that driving at night was typical. But he couldn't help but think it must be more dangerous; he himself could hardly see.

After about an hour, the sounds from the back of the car, where Henry had been amusing himself with his myriad devices, ceased. Swan made a few glances into the mirror at the front of the car before saying, very quietly, "I think Henry's asleep."

He took the opportunity to turn to look; sure enough, the lad was slumped over in his seat, head resting against the window. "That looks extremely uncomfortable," he pointed out, keeping his voice just as soft. "Are you sure?"

"He's probably not faking, but he might wake up," she admitted. "So we can't talk about the case."

"But we can talk?"

"Yeah." She sighed.

"Was there anything in particular you wished to discuss?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I guess not."

He found it amusing sometimes, how she seemed so proud of her ability to discern lies from truth, and yet never seemed to realize just how easy she was to read. Swan likely had a great many things she wished to talk about, and at the very least, he was sure she was tired of the silence.

"How are you faring?"

"Huh? About what?"

"I don't know. Any of this, I suppose. I'm just asking how you are."

"Nervous," she admitted. "I wish you could tell me more about the cu—case."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even if she wouldn't be able to see him do so. "I told you everything I know, Swan. The person to blame for lack of information is whoever sent me what little we have in the first place."

"I know," she said tersely, and she went silent.

A few minutes passed before he spoke to her again. "And with regards to last night?"

"What about last night?"

"Your … " He wasn't sure how to discuss the events on the rooftop without making Henry suspicious, if the lad were feigning sleep, or if he were to awaken mid-conversation. "Unpleasant revelation regarding someone you trusted." It would have to do.

Luckily, he'd gotten his point across. "I'm not feeling great about it. And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. But I guess there's one positive thing about it."

"And what's that?" His heart beat faster. Was she referring to him? That he'd been right about her memories, including affection for another man—himself?

"When I realized you might be right, and that I had to know for sure, I knew what I would be giving up. And I didn't want to give any of it up." He stole a glance at her, but she was staring resolutely at the darkened road. "So now at least I know there was one thing I wasn't actually losing. It never existed to begin with."

He sank guiltily into his seat. When he'd badgered Swan atop that beanstalk about love being all too rare in her life, he'd done so without knowing just how hard he would fall for her. It had been a comment designed to poke and prod, to throw her off-balance so he could figure out what made the Savior tick. He'd needed to get to know her so he could stay allied with her, and reading her had been easy enough.

But now that he cared so deeply for her, it pained him to think about how she must feel. Emma Swan had grown up feeling so unloved and unwanted, another orphan just like him. She had found someone who had purported to love her, something that must have taken her ages to accept and believe.

Only for her to learn that she had never been loved in the first place.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say, though he wished he could say more. Because she'd been so afraid of losing a man who loved her, when in reality, that man was still here, sitting right beside her, for as long as she'd have him.

But even without the threat of Henry waking, to say such things to Emma Swan was to beg her to run in the other direction. And while there were moments where he wanted to be selfish, to just tell her and have it over with for the sake of his own feelings, it would be cruel to her. Right now, she needed him by her side, especially since they might be the only two souls to know about the curse. She needed to be able to rely on him, to trust him, to feel safe with him. She needed a friend and ally, and bloody hell, he would be that for her.

"It's fine," she said, much too lightly. "It really is. Like I said, it's hard to be upset about losing something you never had."

Before he could respond, a sign appeared in the darkness ahead of them.

Entering Storybrooke.