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Later, actually much later, Hook will look back and marvel that his head didn't explode on the walk from Granny's to the Jolly Roger. He was encumbered by thoughts and feelings and memories swirling around in his skull, pressing for freedom. Fortunately for him he has years of experience in masquerade. His fallback role relies on his charm and focus. In this case, focus on Emma and managing the charm. The goal is not to bewitch or, the adverse bother, but to befriend and, maybe, he can't help himself, beguile.
"Emma, darling, before we get to the ship, there is something you should know."
"No talk of my parents or evil misery makers or whatever serious shit you were going to say Hook."
"Not at all if that is not what you wish. I was planning to convey to you that I have not had much opportunity to rehabilitate my ship since its return from ...well, truthfully I am not sure where the ship has been. I do know who captained it last though I cannot stomach using the word 'Captain' when it comes to that rotten wretch Blackbeard. He is as much a Captain as I am a sea urchin, he has no leadership, no tact, and a complete absence of bravery."
His rant brings a smile to Emma's face. "Well Captain, you are no sea urchin and right now I do appreciate your tact. Your ship will be fine in whatever condition it's in, don't worry about me."
They arrive at the docks as the moon comes out from behind the clouds. It is a beautiful backdrop to the Jolly as the stars twinkle a welcome and the brass fixtures gleam over the water. They are silent and stand together with their arms wrapped around each other's waists. Hook could probably stand admiring both his ship and his Swan longer but the smell of the food wafts up to them.
"Come on Killian, I am starving."
"Let's eat on the deck love, enjoy the vista before us." Hook slides over two wood barrels that have been sliced in half to serve as seats and parks them against the hull so they can lean back and look up. There is another wooden crate that serves as a table. The hanging lanterns light easily.
He leaves their bags to the side for the moment as he feels his brain begin to expand again within his skull. Could it be? Would she want to? She is staying the night, after all? Many nights perhaps? Greedy greedy pirate doesn't know what he doesn't deserve, he thinks to himself in order to regain focus.
"Gosh, it is so beautiful out here. I am so glad we could do this." And with those words from his lass he is back to himself. She is comfortable, she is content with him and that is all that matters.
They talk as they eat, inconsequential things really. Hook tells her he is reading several books: A History of Maine; The Colonial History of the United States; and The Ocean Caught Cookbook. "The history is fascinating and accessible. Very easy to understand. I plan to read all the history until I am reading in today's time."
"You will find current events a little more challenging I think."
"Aye, possibly, but I do want to learn about your government, what people do in the cities and many things. I want to understand all the things you seem to rely on every day. I am interested in your vessels, particularly your ships and how they are powered if not by wind and sails."
"What do you think we rely on?"
"Your talking phones, for one. There are your land vessels. When did you last use horses for land travel? I have used your computers, with the help of Belle, as you know. I have watched the TV box with Henry. There is so much more. I do love the falling water in the bath at Granny's. Which, alas, you will not find here on the Jolly. I think I can uncover how it works and recreate it here. Between monsters of course. I do hope you don't mind that love."
"I don't mind. I knew you kept your room at Granny's for that reason. But tell me about cookbooks? Are you terrible in the kitchen?"
"The galley? No, I enjoy cooking. There is so much more to cook with here. Spices and sweets are so available, in addition to the fresh fruits and vegetables. I plan to prepare the food I am familiar with using new ingredients."
"Hook, that is wonderful. And do you think you will update the Jolly with an engine?"
"No, I have no intentions for her other than some conveniences that I appreciate from this world."
The breeze begins to pick up and she shivers. "One minute lass, I will procure a covering from my cabin so we can sit a bit longer."
He is down the stairs to his cabin and back with a brand new blanket from his bed. "Here Emma, fortunately I did have time to go through my cabin and discard all that wasn't mine and purchase new linens. This is what is called a coverlet in your realm." He gently secures the red velvet and cashmere around her shoulders as she fixes it properly with one hand, the other already close to her body for warmth.
"Hook, it's not black, it's red, and it's really pretty. And warm. I thought your fondness for the color black would mean everything would be black."
"Just because that is the primary color of my wardrobe does not mean it extends to the Captain's quarters. You should know my tastes and interests are quite diverse. But the truth of this particular item is that the red reminded me of the glorious ball gown that adorned your body that night we waltzed at King Midas' castle." He pauses to see that she is looking at him for the truth and the warmth in his eyes.
"You were stunning, Swan, and the frock was fortunate to be yours, even for one evening."
If there was lighter from the moon and lanterns he is certain he would see the pink blush on her face as she is abashed at his open flattery. He doesn't want to make her uneasy so he finishes in spite of all he could say.
"You mean I was fortunate to have the frock, right?"
"No, Swan, as this blanket is worthy to warm you, that gown was gratified to grace you. That was quite an evening, wasn't it? I lost you for a bit and was compelled to spend the night in the forest with your father who thought I was Prince Charles."
"And once I got dragged to prison they gave me rags and took my gown. Hey, this walk down memory lane is making me thirsty. Still have some rum in your flask pirate?"
Memory lane? Where is this? He pulls out his flask, "Is memory lane remedied with rum for you as well?"
"Yes, Killian, it is, but I'm not remembering anything right now except how it feels to sit here, warm, fed, under the stars."
"And with me, your favorite dashing rapscallion."
"Yes, my favorite, my one and only." She turns to him and he is certain she is pink from a blush but sadly she is too well wrapped to see all of the pink. He is certain she has had three swallows from the flask but no more than that as they have been passing it back and forth. And then she moves from her seat to his lap. He grabs the edge of the blanket with hand and hook and fastens it carefully around them both. He is certain she has never been closer.
All this certainty where she is concerned is somewhat unsettling. It is too certain, when with her, verily, nothing is that certain. She wants him, she wants distance, she wants no one. She has yet to share her heart and while he presumes he knows why he is less certain if she ever will. He hopes his heart will be enough to open hers to him.
He is grateful for her parents and their daily display of true love. They are amazing in their conviction and commitment to one another, present circumstances and the decisions they made as young regals notwithstanding. They are not his to judge, not now that he knows them. Admittedly he has judged Kings and Queens before and they have repeatedly been lacking. The royal heirs and assigns he has known have lacked morality, interest in the common man, influence, foresight, just a terrible way to run a kingdom.
He is grateful for the love between Emma and her son. It is kind and generous. She is delightfully happy when she is with Henry.
He cannot allow the thought that this might be enough love for the Savior, that she requires no other love. His head is threatening him with pressures again. There is a beautiful woman in his lap and he is worried whether or not she could love him?
Yes, he is, because this is no regular woman. This is the Savior, his Savior, his love and light and grace.
She is moving against him, farther into his lap to press herself into him. She lifts her face, "Hook", and he bends his head to press his lips to hers. He tastes rum and moonlight and stars and hope.