Chapter Three:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
When Emma awoke the next morning she had a dry, scratchy throat and was thoroughly drenched in a cold sweat from head to toe. Though her dreams from the night before had started out pleasant enough, with deep trusting blue eyes and lilting accents, they had quickly distorted into disturbing flashes of a dingy diner and chocolate eyes filled with mischief and false promises of adventure. Her doctors had called it Post Traumatic Stress disorder or PTS but she since hadn't had an episode in a while, she'd almost dared to hope that it had gone away, but really, when was she ever so lucky?
When it first started, some morbid part of her enjoyed going through it all again. Being lulled into a false sense of security before he betrayed her all over again and she felt as if someone had taken the ground right out from underneath her feet. Part of her had enjoyed the naïve excitement and adventure that was Neal Cassidy and she'd initially enjoyed going through it so as to sneak another longing glance at his weathered face. But at this point, almost 10 years later, she just wanted to move on and escape all the nightmarish memories he'd left her with.
But there was still that little voice in the back of her head, that sounded an awful lot like Neal that kept repeating 'You deserve this, you deserve this…' like a painful little mantra, constantly torturing her and reminding her of her paradoxical decision to give up her child for adoption after all her painful experiences in the system, the memories of wondering who your parents were and why they had given you up and of waiting, just daring to hope that they would come back and find you one day if you were good enough. Memories that were bound to come up no matter how she decided to give him away. Regardless, the minute the nurse had walked away with her son, she regretted her decision to give him up, but she knew she'd done the right thing. She couldn't be selfish, she had to give him his best chance. And that certainly wasn't with her.
As soon as Emma managed to bring down the rapid pace of her breathing, she slowly lugged herself out of her bed and walked on clumsy legs into the bathroom. She stripped out of her sweat - drenched pajamas and turned on the shower to as hot as she could stand it. She gingerly stepped under the steaming spray and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She clamped her eyes shut and let the scalding water wash away the pain her memories had brought up in her.
She stood under the showerhead for a few more minutes before she quickly finished then dried off and dressed herself. She sat down on the couch with her laptop and typed in the name of her latest perp. She'd heard from her co-workers that he was a slippery one, a hard one to catch, but she wasn't worried, she was the best chaser the firm had. After all it was the only thing that was truly hers and hers only. It was all she knew. She'd dedicated her life to her job as soon as she gotten it. She often threw herself into her work so as to distract herself from the failure and loneliness that often times clouded her life.
Suddenly, Emma paused, glancing out the window, memories of the night before bombarding her mind, visions of a leather clad man and an ornately dressed woman filled her mind. Suddenly she was reminded of the conversation she'd overheard; they had information. About her. But why?
And this contains all the information I require? Yes, Majesty. Good then we can get started. The conversation drifted through her mind as she attempted to piece together the meaning behind it all. Emma thought back, she remembered a time when she had heard somewhere that your dreams where a way for your subconscious to help you solve warring problems, what did a gay pirate and an old witch have anything to do with her perpetual problems? What a strange dream.
Emma stood, shaking her head free of her current confusing thoughts before she walked to the door, swinging her red leather jacket on and zipping up her boots, before heading out the door and skipping down the steps.
As soon as she exited her building, she was filled with that same eerie feeling that she had had the night before; the feeling that she was being followed. She stopped, scanning her surroundings and turning in a circle to search for any signs of a follower. Behind her? Nothing. To her left? Her right? Zilch. She kept looking around in a fruitless effort, only to come up empty handed.
She shrugged skeptically to herself, and continued her walk to work. Watching her surroundings with narrowed eyes all the while. She decided to take the same short cut she had taken last night, and as she turned her heel into the narrow alley, she heard a rustling behind her. She felt a warm hand on her hip and she quickly turned just in time to see the butt of her own gun heading straight for her temple. He flashed her what appeared to be an apologetic smile, before he let the weight drop hard. Her eyes widened comically before her whole world went dark.
Hook watched from across the street, hidden by the shadows, as Emma emerged from her building. He sighed exasperatedly, immediately knowing from her rigid posture and the grim set to her mouth that his initial tactic of talking it out rationally wouldn't work. This was supposed to be easy. With a shake of his head, he decided to switch tactics to something faster and more likely to keep him intact and away from hers and other suspicious eyes.
Suddenly, her stance, if possible, straightened even further, all the muscles in her back tensing and she began to look around, panicked, like a trapped animal. After a few moments of her looking around for who he supposed had to be him, she hesitantly continued her walk, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she kept scanning her surroundings as she walked toward the alley she had led him through the night prior. He quickened his pace, silently stalking forward until he was right behind her. It was now or never, he grabbed the sturdy looking black object from her hip and moved it up quickly to knock her unconscious.
By now she had turned to him and when she spotted her weapon in his hands, he flashed her an apologetic smile and her eyes widened as he let the heavy thing come down hard on her temple.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and he quickly put his arms out her to catch her when she collapsed.
When Emma finally came to, she was lying on what she would probably describe as the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on.
At the realization that her bed was nowhere near as comfortable as this one, she shot up, her hands moving to massage her temples, attempting to chase away her oncoming headache before it came, unfortunately her attempt was thwarted when she noticed the cuffs, her cuffs, that were latched around her wrist and the bedpost yanked her back.
Emma stared in disbelief at the binds that held her to the bed before briefly scanning her surroundings for something she could use to pick the lock and get herself out, when her eyes landed on an eerily familiar dark figure watching her from the shaded corners of the cabin.
Seriously, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy watching from the shadows? What is this a horror movie?
She acted as though she hadn't yet seen him when an idea came to her. The keys. Surely the dumb bastard hadn't thought to take both sets of keys to her cuffs. She nonchalantly moved her free hand behind her back as her eyes kept scanning the room as though unperturbed. When her hand reached and empty back pocket, she sighed, turning to look the shadowed man straight in the eye. "Did you have to take both sets of keys?"
The man chuckled lightly at her sarcastic remark, lightly shaking his head from side to side and smirking at the ground before he stepped out and lifted his eyes to meet hers, before reaching about to one of his many pockets and retrieving the keys, dangling them tauntingly around her face. "Well, lass how else could I be sure to get you to stay? You're a slippery one, a hard lass to find."
Emma's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as her eyes met his. Recognition flooded her mind as images of a dark alley and a brief image of a sharp hook glinting in the moonlight slowly enveloped her. She let her eyes trail downwards, lifting her eyebrow and scoffing disbelievingly at his questionable heavy black leather attire. What sort of messed up situation did she manage to stumble into now?
He cleared his throat and her wide eyes shot up to his face. That damned smirk had broadened at her gaping, and when she returned her eyes to his, she quickly snapped her mouth shut with a click and squinted her eyes in disgust at the amused and cocky smirk on his face.
Suddenly she realized where she recognized him from and her free hand flew up to stifle her gasp. "It's you." She said accusingly "The guy from last night; the guy from my dream."
His smirk merely grew more at the thought that she had dreamt of him. "Don't worry darling, you're not the first lass to fantasize about me and you certainly won't be the last."
"No, no it wasn't a fantasy, you were there in an alley with a woman in a . . . . ball gown? Oh god I must still be dreaming." She said more to herself than him.
His eyebrows knitted together and he sent her a quizzical look. Then realization seemed to flood his face. He nodded to himself before he began to move forward, toward Emma. Slowly he stepped closer to her all the while tilting his head and eyeing her apprehensively. "Are you feeling alright there, Swan?"
"How do you know my name?" Emma barked, slowly backing as far away from him as her cuffs would allow.
"Lass I mean you no harm. I'm sorry if I frightened you." He said, flashing her an apologetic smile.
"Ha!" Emma scoffed. "You mean me no harm?" she asked disbelievingly. "Then why am I cuffed to your bed with my own damn cuffs!?" Her voice got rougher and even more enraged as she spoke. "Let me go or I'll call the police on you! You know what? I'm going to call the police on you whether you let me go or not! You're insane and I demand that you let me go right now!"
"Whoa, now calm down lass." he said, stopping her mid-rant and holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm afraid I cannot do that."
"Why? Who are you? Where am I? Where are you taking me?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at her captor. This guy was obviously a quack
"Why love, I'm Captain Hook, you're on my ship, and we're headed to a quaint little town called Storybrooke."
A/N: So sorry for the extended delay! So much happened over the last few weeks and I just couldn't get away. Not to mention a serious case of writer's block. Anyways, after writing these past few chapters I've come to the conclusion that I am incapable of writing chapters above 2,000 words. I simply cannot so I will not try anymore. Which means more frequent updates! Yay! Right? On that note, please leave me a review and let me know what you think. Should I keep going? Yes? No? Maybe? Review please!