It's Not About The Jello for ladymagdalene. Rated: T.

Prompt: Emma tries to explain Valentine's Day to Killian as the hospital starts to get decorated :P

"Sheriff?" The attending nurse was bearing down on her, balancing a tottering stack of medical paperwork that, given half a chance, she was certainly about to avalanche on Emma. "I was hoping you'd come by. I need to ask about our legal options – under what circumstances, exactly, can we justify withholding contact from Mr. Mendel? Is there a statute of limitations before it becomes kidnapping? Now that he's on the mend, he's insisting on being allowed to reach his family, and – "

"Yeah, look. I'm sorry, but I am really not the right person to ask about this. Try Gold, he likes to dress up as a lawyer on occasion." Emma did not want to think about Gold – did the man even have a first name in this world? – or anything to do with him, especially after what had just happened. She probably shouldn't even have come here; he wasn't joking when he'd threatened to kill all of them. It had taken a bald-faced lie about needing to buy a few things for their trip to allow her to slip off to the hospital, and she knew he would be timing her with the atomic clock if she wasn't back in an hour, packed and ready to leave. It was foolish to even risk this, but… she had to. Maybe if they dumped the paperwork on Gold, it would distract him from coming to hunt for her. Either way, however, she still didn't have long.

As the nurse opened her mouth to ask again, Emma shook her head and held up a hand, then sidled off down the corridor. The hospital, she noticed, was looking unexpectedly festive; one of the school classes must have come in and perked it up, with paper heart chains, red… things confected out of construction paper, and handwritten cards with stick-figure self-portraits. Since time had been frozen, she wondered suddenly if they'd been third-graders or fourth-graders for twenty-eight years, and felt a pang of pity for those unfortunates who'd been doomed to middle school that long. Henry obviously hadn't been affected, as he'd aged like a normal kid, but there must have been something about the curse to make everyone else fail to notice that they were acting out Groundhog Day for real. Who knew how the hell dark magic worked. If you did, it was probably too late for everyone else.

Emma was presently thinking about the curse due to the fact that even that was safer to dwell on than the reason she was risking her neck to get to the hospital. She nervously touched the envelope tucked under her arm. She had written down everything Hook needed to know. Well, some of it. She hadn't told him about the fact that Gold had threatened his life and she was leaving to protect him, just that she had to go. And she hadn't mentioned why. And she definitely hadn't mentioned the kill-everybody part. In fact, all it came down to was that she was going to be gone for a little while, and that if he did anything further to Belle, he was going to pay.

Emma turned the corner, down to the mostly empty wing where Hook's room was located. Of course, this commando mission hadn't been entirely necessary in the first place. Not really at all. She could have just mailed the card, or told her parents to fill him in, or any of it. But she wanted to see him. Needed to see him.

She dawdled outside his room, wondering if she could open it a crack and see if he was sleeping. If he caught her, she'd never get away with just about any element of her cover story, and that was going to be a situation. If she could only be certain that he –

At that moment, horrifyingly, the door clicked. She leapt back like a scalded cat, almost dropping the envelope, far more flustered than she had any need or call to be, as it opened, there was a muffled obscenity from within, and the feared Captain Hook, in a fluffy white bedgown, hobbled out like an old lady escaping from the nursing home, trailing a clattering IV stand.

He got about a foot over the threshold before spotting her and stopping dead. They stared at each other; it was hard to tell which of them was more shocked. Then he cracked a sarcastic grin and attempted to pull off a courtly bow, but stopped again with a muffled grunt of pain. "Well, well. Milady. Whatever brings you to my humble abode?"

"Can it, Hook. I – I really don't have time for this." That hadn't come out sounding quite as businesslike as she meant; her voice faltered a little, sounded almost fragile. "Look, I'm going to make it quick. I just – wait a damn second! What are you doing up? You're supposed to be chained to your bed! Who the hell unchained you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" His grin turned devilish. "It was a nurse. Fetching young lady. Couldn't stand to see me suffering, once she knew how much I was. My pain seemed to become quite a personal matter for her. Why? Are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Emma tried to stop her stomach from diving into her foot, which was what it had just attempted to do. Of all the stupid things, she was jealous. Thinking of him being pathetic and earnest and wooing some impressionable woman with those puppy-dog eyes and tales of woe… and as much as she didn't want to admit it, it hurt her to think of him suffering. She had no doubt that he was genuinely in pain, although if there was a level of pain for him to be in where he wasn't thinking about flirting with her and firing off innuendos, she had yet to encounter it. Didn't think she really wanted to, either.

"Well, then." He cocked a dark eyebrow. "What's that look on your face?"

"What look on my face?" Oh God, what look on her face?

It appeared very much as if he was about to follow this up with further commentary, but she didn't let him. "Okay, I'm going to make this quick. I'm – leaving town for a little while. You're not going to be harmed… as long as you behave yourself. Just… please don't do anything to Belle, or there are going to be very serious – "

"Why would I?" He shrugged. "I've done what I wanted with her. It's Rumplestiltskin who's my quarrel now."

"Actually… he's… going to be gone as well." Emma bit her lip. "So, actually – the whole revenge thing? Needs to go on ice for a while. Just thought I'd – "

She was cut off as he grabbed her shoulder with his good hand, letting go of the IV stand and almost putting his weight on her. "Lass, what? What? Tell me you're not going with him."

"Actually… I am." Emma wanted to move back from him, but she couldn't figure a way to do that without causing him to lose his balance and fall, and instead she found herself putting a steadying hand on his waist, trying not to exert pressure on his ribs. "Trust me when I say that I really have no choice."

"But you can't go." His eyes had turned confused, pained. Even thinking that he had probably done the exact same thing to the nurse wasn't enough to immunize her to their effect. "The rest of this pisspot of a town wants my head."

"Yeah, buddy. Maybe you should have thought of that before you went after Belle with a gun."

She'd been trying to make him let go, to reestablish some distance between them, to hurt him, but he just shrugged, as if it was a fact of life. She didn't understand this man, had realized that he had walls even higher than hers, but for some reason, kept letting them down around her and inviting her in to inspect the dark, crumbled ruins. And indeed he said, "What else did you expect I'd do? I certainly don't regret it."

Emma pushed half-heartedly at his hand. "You are such a basket case."

"Likely so, love. But please, you can't leave me here in this bloody place." He lowered his voice, glanced from side to side, and whispered, "They tried to kill me last night."

"What?" Emma was jolted. After all the drama had gone down, with Whale and Greg Mendel's surgery and trying to interrogate him about the accident… had someone – had Gold – tried to get in a final parting shot? She couldn't disguise the fear in her voice as she said, "How?"

"Come with me." He took hold of her hand, his scarred fingers closing over hers – it was funny, but hers fit very nicely in his, and she didn't pull away like she should have. Instead, even with the hundred and one reasons why she should be doing anything but following him into his room, she did exactly that, furtherly annoyed to find that her heart was pounding. What was –

"There." Hook pointed at something set on the side table by the bed. It looked like an ordinary tray of food to Emma. "That."

Emma stepped closer, bending over it with a frown. Hospital food wasn't gourmet, but poison? Probably not. Just a little saran-wrap package of crackers, a container of red Jello, and something that probably had more preservatives in it than half the medicines. She'd be pissed too if they were feeding her this, but… "I don't get it. What?"

"That!" Hook gestured at the Jello. "Don't think I don't know it's bloody poison. It moves by itself when you touch it!"

Emma made a faint choking noise. She coughed, coughed again, and said in a strained voice, "That's… actually not poison. It's – Jello."

He stared at her blankly. "What the hell is Jello?"

Emma emitted another squeaking noise, then pounded herself on the chest and cleared her throat. By now, she'd been asked to buy a whole crap-ton of crazy, not least the curse and the Evil Queen having adopted her long-lost son and Pinocchio being her childhood protector and now Rumplestiltskin threatening to kill her and her parents who were practically the same age and dragons and falling through a portal and ogres and shape-changing witches and sparkly dust – yeah, she was on all that. But somehow, she had never once foreseen that she would be tasked with explaining hospital Jello to Captain Hook.

"It's food," she said feebly. "At least, I think. Nobody's ever been really sure what it is."

"I'm not eating it." He crossed his arms.

"Nobody's making you," she reassured him. "But I swear, it's not poison. Here, look." She peeled off the wilted saran wrap and spooned out a bite, then popped it in her mouth – having a split second to wonder what she would do if he was right, and it was actually poison. But it was just hospital Jello, which wasn't to say anything outstanding, and she swallowed. "There."

He cocked his head and regarded her with an expression that could almost be described as fond, that smile he'd given her after she'd told him that she'd pick him as Dead Guy of the Year (why had he smiled at her like that?) "You are brilliant, love."

"What? I just ate some Jello. It's not exactly a merit award moment."

"Might be so, but…" His hand had somehow found its way back into hers, linking their fingers. "It's not every woman who up and eats something a man has just told her is poison, especially to prove it's not."

"Well, that's because I knew it wasn't."

"Did you?" He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a light kiss on the back of it. "Doesn't change my assessment."

Emma did her damndest to ignore what that did to her stomach. "Okay, Romeo," she said tolerantly, disentangling herself. "I really need to get on with what I was doing, so…"

"Romeo?" He looked blank again. "My name is Killian, love."

"Yes, I know. It's a…" Actually, no. She was not going to tell him where that reference came from. It was already strange enough talking to him – she still hadn't figured out how it was that everyone in Fairytale Land apparently spoke English, or at least could understand her without a translation spell or any of that. But to talk to someone who sounded like a charming British rakehell, but was totally clueless about, oh, the last three hundred years of technological innovation… yeah, it was weird. Another thing to think about instead of what he was making her feel. (Although there was no getting away from that.)

"It's just a nickname," she came up with at last. "For, um, an annoying guy like you."

"Annoying?" He pressed his stump to his heart. "Truly, m'lady, you have felled me dead."

"You don't need any help with that, trust me." Her lips trembled unexpectedly, betraying more weakness than she wanted, and she tried to turn, to make a run for it before this got any more awkward. But his hand was still holding hers.

"Love," he said softly. "If I absolutely cannot persuade you not to faff off with the crocodile – and I'm deadly serious, don't go with him – I've got one more question."

"Yes?" She tried to meet his eyes squarely, to show she didn't have anything to hide, but one glance was too much. She tried to look down again posthaste, but his stump caught her chin. For a guy with only five functioning fingers, he was awfully fucking handsy.

"Nothing quite so bad as that, love," he said ruefully, leaning close enough that she thought he was going to touch their noses. Their mouths were too near as well, so she felt his words like ghosts against her lips. "What's with the gaudy tat they're stringing up bloody everywhere?"

"The… what?"

"All the ribbons… and hearts." His mouth tightened, and she wondered if he had a particular reason for disliking this particular reminder. I hurt his heart… Belle's just where he keeps it. He killed my love, I know the feeling. And suddenly… thinking about Graham convulsing on the floor of the sheriff's station, Henry's insistence that Regina had crushed his heart… but she didn't want to ask if that was how Milah had died, the woman whose name was tattooed on his arm, the only thing he had left. She was afraid that she already knew the answer.

That flash of insight was almost too much. Especially knowing that if she could see into him like glass, he could – already had – done the same to her. "Those are decorations," she mumbled. "For Valentine's Day. It's a terrible holiday where people buy sappy cards and overpriced flowers and act like they haven't been fucking up their love lives for the rest of the year."

"Really?" He looked intrigued. "A holiday all about love? That doesn't sound so terrible to me."

"Yeah, well… perspective, and everything. It's never been my bag."

"Why not?"

"It's… not really the sort of thing I've ever felt like celebrating." Her heart was pulsing like a trip hammer in her throat, her fingers, her breast, and she was pretty sure he could tell. "Because, well…"

"Because you were abandoned," he finished, with that goddamned perspicacity of his. "And never believed in love again after that, so of course you'd take the cynical view. And because you might now be coming to a point in your life when you have to face it again when you feel the least ready for it, so of course you're running scared."

"You think an awful lot of yourself, don't you?" Emma said weakly.

"Did I say anything about me in there?" He gave her that crooked, infuriating smile.

"No, but I'm going to guess you were thinking it."

"If you can guess what I'm thinking, darling, congratulations." He let his nose touch hers, just the briefest whisper. "It's an acquired skill for most, but you… just seem to have it."

"I'm not sure about that anymore," she whispered hoarsely. "I used to have that gift of knowing at least if people were lying… but now, I can't even tell."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, right next to her lips, the barest of pecks. "Try."

"I… really… have to go." Emma pushed at him again. "Please, I don't have a choice. He… threatened you." The instant it came spilling out, she clapped a hand to her lips, but too late.

Hook blinked at her, bemused. "What?"

"He… no, really, please, I have to get out of here. Please. The nurse is going to come by or something, you can flirt with her then."

"What if I'm not at all interested in flirting with her now that she's obligingly uncuffed me, and I'm instead quite interested in learning about this holiday and its – what was the word – Jello?"

"It's not about the Jello. The Jello just… was there. I'll explain more later, if you really have to know. I'm serious, Hook, this is about my family. My son."

She'd hoped he'd understand what she was saying. Now that she'd learned that she was going to look for Rumplestiltskin's son, and that Hook's entanglement had been with Rumplestiltskin's wife, she realized that Milah must have left her child behind to run off with Hook. Emma couldn't judge the woman, not knowing exactly what her marriage to Rumple had been like and what she felt and why she'd decided that her only choice was ditching it all and fleeing – but Emma did know, at the core, what had made Milah do it, because she herself had spent so long fleeing herself. But that was before she had met Henry. Not even for Hook was she going to pack up and fuck off to some remote corner of the world and never come back.

(Wait a second. Not even for Hook? Did that imply he had some kind of special hold on her? Especially when she was about to pack up and fuck off to some possibly remote corner of the world with Gold, because of Hook?)

(But that was to keep Henry safe, so it didn't count.)

(Did it? You know, it would have made more sense for Gold to threaten her parents or just about anyone else, although of course he had. But to specifically go for Hook – that was low and dirty, and implied that she wasn't being as cool about this as she thought and)

(Fuck it she was tired of having this argument.)

Emma coughed, horrified that with her apparently glass face around Hook, he had been following this like he was kicking back and watching sports on TV, although he surely didn't know what either of those was. He did look suspiciously entertained, at any rate. "Sure I can't persuade you to enlighten me with the radiance of your presence, just a bit longer?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'm leaving this time… really." Somehow she got her fingers to open, to break contact with his skin, to feel like a spark had shorted out somewhere and left her cold. Thought about handing him the letter, then decided against it; it wouldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, and only reveal how much she had been planning to keep back. Could only look at him, look at him as if she could never have enough, and then step back, step through the door, close it behind her, and go.