"No Swan, you're being too aggressive. Move with the animal – not against it."

Sitting astride his chestnut mare, he watched her as she attempted to drive her own horse around the large forest clearing they had found. She was leaning forward into the gallop; the reins twisted firmly around her fists, a look of determined concentration on her face.

"Use your legs, squeeze her flank, bend into it…"

The stream of instructions slipped from his mouth in a rapid relay. He could see her brow tighten and furrow: she was slipping, losing her grip until-

"Damn it!"

Suddenly she tumbled to the ground, landing on a patch of thick grass, rolling across the forest floor until she came to halt, lying on her back. The animal quickly galloped away as her teacher jumped down and ran to her side.

"Emma!"

When he reached her she was staring straight ahead open mouthed. His heart leaped into his throat –no, no she wasn't… But then she started to cough; chest heaving, she pushed herself up from the ground. She had a small graze above her right eye but otherwise looked intact.

"God's Emma, are you okay?"

Slowly she turned her head to him, nodding lightly. "Damn horse," she whispered as she stretched and curved her back.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, "Maybe I was pushing you too far, perhaps you are not ready-"

"Oh, I'm ready Hook but maybe your teaching skills are a little off." She gave him a sharp look as she struggled to get to her feet.

"I can help you-"

"I said I'm fine!" Her words were sharp. He watched as she stumbled awkwardly to the side of the clearing before taking a seat in front of the fallen log where she had left her backpack. She reached inside and pulled out a water gourd, tipping the contents into her mouth. He couldn't help but notice the motion of her neck as it consumed the liquid. She had a fine neck – delicate, elegant…

He shook himself from his thoughts and marched over the tall grass to sit beside her – one leg outstretched the other curled at the knee. They sat in silent contemplation – the only sound that of the various birds and other creatures that lived in this part of the woods. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a small bottle, removing its cork with his teeth.

"Drink?" he asked, holding it out to her.

Wordlessly she took the bottle from his hands and knocked back a long, deep mouthful. She licked her lips as let her arm settle in her lap.

"Are you going to stay mad at me for the rest of the day?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied, not looking his way.

"Well then, may I ask why exactly you are mad at me? You can hardly blame me for the horse's actions."

She let out a small, almost inaudible laugh before taking another drink and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I suppose not." She twisted to face him, running her tongue over her lip. Oh he wished she wouldn't do that in his presence.

"Well then love I'm very confused. One minute you are cold to me, the next I feel you want something from me. I'm just trying to be a friend. An ally." Well, that wasn't strictly true, but he hid the lie behind a dram of rum from the other bottle he picked from his pocket.

"Don't lie," she muttered under her breath.

"Are you questioning my honour?" His boot shifted so it was almost touching hers. He watched her twist her head, her hair flipping over her shoulder. The floral scented fragrance of her blonde locks consuming the air around him; he breathed in deeply.

"As if I would ever do such a thing," her voice dripped with sarcasm as she dug the now empty bottle into the ground next to her feet. "But you're not very subtle."

The rum was starting to warm his belly, just as the first signs of dusk appeared. He rolled his tongue over the outline of his lips before settling it between his teeth. "I've never hidden my intentions Emma. I hope this hasn't made you feel uncomfortable."

"No…" she wrinkled her face and he saw a flash of something vulnerable cross over her features. "You know what? I'm sorry. I'm taking out my frustrations on you?"

He couldn't help to laden his response with unbridled innuendo, "Oh I wouldn't have any problem with that."

"Oh – you-"

He quickly felt better of his words. "Sorry Swan." He lifted up his still full bottle in a toast, "Old habits and all."

Her eyes were latched onto the blue glass bottle as it approached his mouth. Aware of her attentions, he moved teasingly slowly – grasping the neck with his teeth before wrapping his lips tightly and letting the burning liquid trickle into his throat. Slowly he peered over at her – catching her eye. Quickly she pulled the bottle from him and took her own hungry gulps.

"Now then, slow down love, that's the strong stuff."

"I can handle my alcohol pirate."

The word pirate stung. Still, after all these months, that was her name of choice for him.

"Perhaps, Miss Swan, you could start calling me by my real name."

"Kill-I-An." She rolled her tongue around the words tilting her head from side to side. Was she a little drunk?

"Yes, you remember then."

"Oh," she smiled, "I remember a lot of things."

Part of him said stop. Take the rum, ride her home and forget this whole damned day. But the other half -the louder half- said go on. Push. Make her say it.

"For example?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

Clearly, she didn't want to play this game, so taking the rum out of her hand, he lay back against the log. The light was starting to fade a little. Small fireflies began to appear in the distance, flitting between the trees of the darkening wood. Something had been on his mind now for weeks. Ever since they came to this realm he had watched her, observed her interactions, her emotions.

"Can I say something Swan?"

"Would I actually be able to stop you?" Her voice was tinged with sadness as she reclaimed the bottle. It was almost half empty now.

"I think you and I have a lot in common. In this land you are the outsider, the one who has so much to learn. After years spent searching, you finally have your family together; they are safe, happy and it was your doing. But still you feel something missing inside, like you don't quite belong. You, darling, are still lost."

There was a silent moment as the weight of his words washed over them. "You're quite the thinker Hook. But please don't presume to know what is going on in my head. And we are certainly not alike." She caught his eye and he watched her raise the bottle to her lips, she paused just as the neck made contact. He saw he tongue slide along its edge, almost teasingly. She needed to stop that.

"I beg to differ," he replied, a taunting lilt creeping into his voice once again. He just couldn't help it around her; it was too easy, too tempting and far too rewarding. "I too am the outsider here. The fearsome Captain Hook," he grimaced at the moniker, "Rogue of the seas, now on land. I may have found what I was looking for, but I too Emma, am still lost."

"Ah, but you see, you never really found what you were looking for. You never got your revenge." She looked over at him from the corner of her eye. It was getting much darker now, a shadow fell over half her face but he could still make out her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"That was not to what I was referring."

Maybe he had said too much – taken this too far. She was silent and still beside him. How had this come about? A riding lesson in the woods turned into a heart to heart… She turned and raised her eyebrows, giving him a questioning look.

"You Emma. I meant you."

"Hook-" she dipped her head and rubbed her hand across her face.

"Love Emma. I was searching for love." He smiled a little and raised his hooked hand along his jawline. "I didn't know that until I found it. But I know it now."

He reached his arm along the log behind them so it was almost touching her back. She stiffened a little at his proximity –his heart dropped a little. Her eyes were closed now, fingers clenched around the bottle in her lap. Wordlessly her lips began to move, forming shapes as though she was trying to say something.

"Killian…" her breathing seemed to slow, became more difficult. The alcohol of course he told himself. "My son, my son is my focus and-"

His hand moved to rest on her arm nearest to him, she stopped and looked up. There was something in her eyes, something new that he couldn't quite make out.

"And your son is fine. He is safe. And he loves you."

Under his hand her skin was soft and he began to softly trace his fingers up and down her bare arm as he gave her a smouldering look. He could feel her begin to crumple under his gaze.

"So my question is Emma. What now? What next for the saviour. What do you want?"

Her mouth dropped open at his question; her eyes wide, the bottle of rum forgotten. She seemed lost in thought – as if the question had never occurred to her. Spending her life searching for something, that had been her all, her everything. And now that time had come to an end, well, that was the scary part. The time when she had to make decisions for herself.

Finally she took a deep breath, her tongue moistening her lips a little, before she spoke…

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