CHAPTER TWELVE

Emma awoke to the shrill sound of someone shouting her name... insistently, as she buried her face further into the sheets.

A warm hand slid down her lower back reminding her of her less than stellar decision making skills last night. "Mother's calling Love."

Emma groaned, she thought she recognised the tone from somewhere... her repressed adolescence maybe.

"Oh God." She muttered. "I think I'm in a nightmare."

Hook sat up on his elbows cocking his head and listening to the sound of a woman who was clearly not taking no for an answer on deck. "She's certainly persistent."

Emma sat up and groped beside the bed for the clothing she'd abandoned last night, shoving it on with all the care of someone who was attempting to stop her mother from seeing her in the buff, lying in bed with the bad boy she'd already distinctly told her not to get involved with.

"Get dressed." Emma muttered, throwing his leather pants at him. "And remind me to stop by a store and get you jeans, because in this world, we look like we're in an 80's punk band... or a renaissance fair, neither of which is good."

Hook gave her an amused look, but he wasn't pulling the clothes on, just watching her. "I'm perfectly happy here Love."

"Well I'm not, she's coming through the door any second to force us to have the conversation she's been trying to have with me since I broke this damn curse. I'd like you dressed for it."

"Her issues aren't mine Love." He smirked, but it had taken on a more dangerous quality and she paused watching him.

"You're scheming." She accused, his poker face was perfect as usual, not even a flicker.

"Waiting." He corrected.

"For?" she pressed, hearing the angry rant from above getting closer.

"Permission."

Emma stopped mid movement, her mouth opening in mild surprise. "Our deal?" she realised quietly, "You're honouring the deal we made before... everything?" her shock was real, she knew this man, but this particular character quirk was a twist, even for him. "You..." she couldn't contain the sarcasm, "Your actually telling me that Captain Hook is risking his chance of rending his crocodile limb from limb, out of what, a sense of honour?"

His expression was indecipherable as he stood, inches from her. "Honour... no, not particularly. Just a promise to a lady."

Emma smirked. "That is being honourable... dumb ass."

He shrugged. "Then I suppose I must confess to a noble streak."

"Bull." Emma shook her head, not buying it for one minute. "You got your memory back, and now that you've seen how this world works all your plans have crumbled around your ass and you have no idea how to deal with your re-magical Crocodile."

"Emma!" Mary Margaret threw open the door, her startled cry, turning into one of horror as she abruptly covered her eyes with one hand at the sight of Captain Hook, naked as the day he was born. "Oh my god." She whispered quietly, the prim and proper school teacher winning out for a moment before the furious mother and Queen reared her head. Her hand dropped from her eyes and her expression twisted into something unpleasant.

Emma cut off the scathing remark she knew was coming, "And I think that's our cue to leave. Mary Margaret, how about breakfast, I'm starved." Emma spun, stalking towards her mother and grasping her arm, physically dragging her out of the room before the two of them tried to claw each other's eyes out. Or worse, talk about her.

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Emma took a long sip of the hot chocolate, mostly as a way of avoiding Mary Margaret's question for another minute.

"Emma, stop avoiding." Apparently she wasn't as subtle as she'd thought; Mary Margaret was glaring opposite her. "I know that I can't tell you what to do... I'm 28 years too late for that, but we were friends once and what you're doing with Hook..."

"Is complicated." Emma admitted taking a huge mouthful of Granny's best burger with all the trimmings and almost moaning out loud, "Oh wow, that is good." Emma spoke around the mouthful guiltily, "You have no idea how much I've missed junk food, the ships cook tried to make me pizza once... total disaster, best I got was burnt bread."

"He's a pirate Emma, being here in this world doesn't change that..."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Mary Margaret, believe it or not, not every girl gets a Prince."

Mary Margaret's hand shot out and grasped hers, the look of desperation and exasperation clear. "Emma please you're not taking this seriously."

"No, I'm not. Because I really don't want to have this conversation. Which I made quite clear to David when he accosted me at my car."

"He's your father, Emma. And we aren't going to go away, we're worried about you. Henry..."

"Don't bring the kid into this." Emma snapped pointing her fork at Mary Margaret angrily.

"You haven't even been round to see him since you got back."

"I saw him." Emma retorted, guilt and irritation blooming.

"On the ship, yes. But since. He missed you every minute of every day, and not once did he ever give up faith that you'd find your way back to him. He loves you."

"And I love him." Emma bit out, feeling tears sting her eyes. "More than you realise. Which is why I'm staying away."

"How is staying away helping either of you?" Mary Margaret pressed, reaching for her hand again.

"Because, I'm not a good person." Emma bit her lip, there, she'd said it. "I never was. Not as a kid... or a teenager, I landed myself in prison, I gave a kid away because I couldn't stand the idea of someone relying on me."

"You gave him away to give him his best chance." Mary Margaret's grip was vice like over hers now, like her just saying the words would somehow make it true.

"I wanted to believe that. I wanted him to believe that. But it's not true. I gave him away because I was selfish and scared. And coming back here, all I did was tear him away from his home, from a mother... who whilst being a conniving bitch, loved him." Mary Margaret opened her mouth as if to argue so Emma ploughed right on, "And I'm doing it again. Henry is better off with you and David. You've been his parents for a whole year, and guess what, you're better at it than I will ever be. Because deep down I'm still as selfish and as scared as I was back then."

"Emma." Mary Margaret's eyes were shining, which forced Emma to blink away her own tears. "You can't possibly believe that?"

Emma stared long and hard at the woman that for better or worse, would always think the best of her; and she hated her for it. Emma stood, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible, as quickly as possible. "You want to do what's best for me, what's best for Henry. Go be the mother you always wanted to be; just be it to him. And leave me the hell out of it!"

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Emma found Hook on the roof of the building opposite Gold's pawn shop, he had a telescope in his hand so she was fairly sure what he'd been doing. The fact that she'd known where he was, was something she didn't want to think on especially hard. She sat down on the roof beside him, crossing her ankles and staring trying to see what was so interesting about the window front of the store.

"Breakfast went well I take it."

Emma rolled her eyes, the man was incapable of saying anything without a tone, at least he'd finally put some clothes on she noticed... pity.

"Still pretending that you're up here hiding from Gold because of a promise that we both know you were never really going to keep?" she bit back.

"Still running away from the family you were so desperate to get back to?" That one stung.

"Touché." Emma murmured, keeping her gaze averted pretending Gold's apparently closed shop held any interest to her in this moment.

"The boy came to the ship looking for you." Hook told her after a few moments silence, she noticed he didn't call Henry 'her son', he was just 'the boy'. She tried not to read too much into that, particularly when he was examining her waiting for her expression to give away whatever she was thinking.

"I take it you entertained him?" Emma quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

Hook shrugged. "He's a fairly untrusting soul," he gave her a look that was entirely judgemental, "Just like his mother."

Emma smirked. "Smart too, if he knows better than to trust a word out of your mouth."

"You wound me Love." Hook teased, his hand over his heart.

"No, I just know you Killian." She sighed, the pretence petering out as the complicated tangle that their hearts were in won out.

Killian gave her a look that she struggled to interpret. "And I thought I knew you love, turns out the woman who quite literally sailed through hell and high water on just the faintest memory of her son... doesn't know what she wants at all."

Emma turned away from him, when he started to make sense, it was never a good sign. "In case you forgot Killian. That memory failed me in the end. It wasn't enough."

"And yet somehow, I was?" he smirked and she cringed internally, her expression clearly speaking volumes. "Thought as much." He sounded less than amused; she'd have gone so far as to say hurt. "In the cold light of day Emma... you want to be alone, because it's what you know. You just don't like to admit it to yourself, so you create this fantasy in your mind of what would make you happy. Only you got it. And somehow it doesn't match up to all those expectations spent as a lonely abandoned lost child." He shook his head derisively at her almost like he pitied her, Emma was so stunned at this sudden lashing that she could do nothing but stare at him. His charm had bled out of him as he met her gaze unflinchingly... she had most definitely managed to hurt him somehow.

"You have no idea what you want Princess. Even if it's staring you in the face"

He turned away from her and Emma felt herself startled into action, she didn't want him to look at her that way, didn't want anyone to actually pity her. Her open palm connected with his cheek soundly and he rocked back slightly at her slap, but his gaze was unwavering, unapologetic. Emma curled that same hand around the back of his head and tugged him forward until their lips crashed together, his resistance was clear as was his anger with her, with their situation, they'd fought to get here and yet somehow she knew they both wanted to be back on the boat, sailing out into misadventure and free to blame Neverland for everything that was building between them.

He pulled away first, giving her a shrewd look, "Careful what you wish for Princess. You can't blame Neverland anymore."

Her thoughts exactly as she watched him stalk away, hopping down from the roof with easy grace and sauntering away, back to his ship... or the local bar, whichever was easier no doubt. Not that she blamed him, drowning her sorrows seemed like a solid option at this point, she guessed she had raging alcoholism to add to her list of things Neverland had bought out in her, or maybe that had just been Hook and his men's influence.

Emma sat back on the roof, watching the world go by beneath her. She heard the sounds, light as a feather against the roof tiles and wasn't entirely surprised, but not exactly pleased to find Peter sitting down beside her, cross legged, staring at Gold's shop like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Pan." She acknowledged.

"Mother." He replied, wielding the word like the weapon he'd clearly realised it was as he cocked his head, giving her a knowing smirk, which only hinted at the mischief she knew he was capable of and finding it strangely endearing.

"Go bother Hook. I'm busy." She bit out, she didn't want Peter Pan of all people to see her this low right now.

Peter shook his head, "Your hiding. From this world you said was so great that you dragged us all here at sword point."

"Observant. Now go away."

"Won't, this is a free country apparently, can do what I like. Just like always." He smirked and she bit her lip in irritation, resisting the urge to clip his ear.

"We also have guns here, and the right to use them, so go away before I'm tempted to." She bit back and he laughed lightly, surprising her.

"Nah, you like me too much to shoot me. The old man you stuck me with thought so too. Told me to give you a break, turns out you didn't lie about being abandoned... so I guess there's that."

Emma looked sideways at him, he sounded... older, more normal. She didn't want to think what it was exactly Neverland had done to each of them, to turn him into the little sociopathic monster she knew he could be, because it just made her wonder exactly what it had done to her.

"You avoiding your son Mother?" he pointed out shrewdly, he'd always been bright, now without the mind addling effects of Neverland it was unnerving clear just how observant he was too.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You're not my son." She reminded him, wishing it didn't sound so callous; it was harder when he was less 'irritating dictator' and more 'damaged, observant child'.

"Nope. But that snotty kid with the nice outfit and more family than any one person deserves is."

Emma opened and closed her mouth, observing Peter closely, there was definite bitterness there. "I'm sorry." She told him firmly. "I should have left you in Neverland, I wasn't thinking straight, it was that place, it twists everything up."

Peter nodded. "Nah you were right, I'd been there too long. I don't remember anything but there, I remember I wasn't always like this though," he admitted, seeing her confusion he shook his head, the sparkling dust was still there, still shining. "I think Neverland made me like this. There were lots of boys there once. I bought them all there. Then they weren't there and I'd have to go find more." He bowed his head. "Geppetto says I'm not bad. Not if I feel sorry about it."

Emma smiled thinly. "But you don't, do you. Feel sorry about it?"

Peter smirked. "Nope." He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "Guess that's the one good thing about there, has a way of making you not care. Stay there long enough, I guess it's permanent."

Emma nodded. "I thought we could just come back, slot into life here like it never happened." It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, particularly when he was making so much sense for once.

"They closed the window Mother." He gave her a shrewd look. "They always do in the end, shut us out, forget and move on." Emma recalled the darker parts of the fairytale and felt a shiver run down her spine, that was how he'd known, when a Lost Boy was truly lost, when the family closed the window on him.

"What do you want Peter." She asked, realising that he was clearly here for a reason, Pan never did anything without some reason even if it did only make sense to him.

"Saying goodbye Mother."

Emma paused, "Goodbye?"

"Thank you I guess. For trying." He admitted with a shrug. "But I don't belong here."

Emma grasped his wrist as he stood. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He stared back down at her almost pityingly. "You were right about this place, there's magic here, just different, took me a little while to get the hang of it."

"A while? It's barely been three days." she managed weakly, seeing the stardust shining all over his skin, like it was embedded there, catching the light as the sun danced over him.

Pan laughed gently. "Yeah, but I'm magic mother. I figure that's why Neverland chose me. It needs me you see, like I need it."

His feet rose off the floor.

"Wait." She grasped onto his wrist, not willing to let him go like this and she couldn't even say why, other than the sickening feeling that it was wrong, that he was compelled somehow by some weird twist of fate.

Pan hovered in front of her, his hand went out and he grasped a handful of her hair loosely, bringing it in front of her face. "You stayed too long Mother and Neverland left its mark... because you're magic too." Emma stared transfixed at the stardust glinting clearly now in her blonde hair. The shock of it caused her to drop his wrist and he darted up out of her reach.

"Pan, don't go, don't do this, give yourself a chance to be normal!" she called after him.

She heard his boisterous laughter as he stared his eyes fixed heavenward. "Who wants to be normal Mother!"

"Please!" she all but screamed at him, not caring that people were staring up at them, clearly becoming aware of the flying boy and the mad woman screaming on the rooftops above them.

Peter vanished into the clouds, but she could hear his voice, ringing in her head, clear as a bell. "I'll be waiting Mother, Second Star to the Right, and Straight on till Morning!"

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Authors Note: Sorry it's taken so long, I started a new job and things sort of took priority, I also was a little uninspired with the events unfolding in the real OUAT which killed my muse a bit. I still have hope for this ship there though, nothing like redemption for love stories right? Anyway I can dream. I'll try and update and finish this story off. Thank you so much to all of you who have reviewed and PM'd and generally nagged me back into this, it is appreciated as I hate to leave something unfinished.