"Darling, a beautiful woman is the only thing mermaids hate more than they hate a bird for being able to fly. And given the fact that you are one hell of a swan, I'd request that you please remain out of their line of sight while I conduct our business."
"You can come out, you know," he says lightly, a sigh tipping into the end of his voice. "I know you're there, Swan."
There's a pause and a brief rustling of leaves before Emma steps out from behind a mossy tree trunk, her brow wrinkled. "How'd you know?"
He swivels on his heel, turning to face her with an incorrigible smirk. "You're quite good, surprisingly. Light on your feet. I almost didn't notice." He raises an appraising eyebrow, an almost…fond smile tracing along his lips.
"But how did you?" Emma presses, stepping forward with her arms crossed.
"I don't think you'll like my answer," he replies in a sing-song voice, clearly baiting her. Emma merely responds with a glare. He purses his lips, bemused—what is it about her that he finds so damn funny, she wonders—considering his words. "I could smell you."
Well. She hadn't been expecting that.
"I'm sorry—what?" She hisses, the oddest sensation running up her arms. She can't decide if she's aroused or creeped out. Maybe both. It's kind of common when dealing with him, anyway.
That crooked grin appears again, and so does her desire to smack it off of him. "You were tracking me downwind, Swan," he says smugly, turning on his heel and gesturing her to follow him, "and your scent is a standout. The Neverland jungle, in case you failed to take notice, smells sickly sweet. Thick enough for a knife." He throws his gaze over to her, eyebrows dancing dangerously, "Musky. Moist."
"Stop trying to distract me," she snaps, the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Why, is it working?" He laughs, looking delightfully pleased with himself. "As I was saying—you, my love, smell of morning after rain, with the oddest hint of vanilla." He pauses, an unreadable look suddenly crossing his features. "Like I said, you're a stand out."
She nearly trips at that. If she thought her face was pink before, she didn't even want to know what she must look like now. She doesn't know what to say—she never does when he throws her compliments out of left field—so she doesn't say anything at all, which only makes him laugh again, but softer this time, almost sarcastically, even emptily.
"Where are we going, anyway?" She asks, desperate to change the subject.
"Mermaid Lagoon," he replies after a beat.
"What?" She hisses, her voice dropping to a whisper, though she doesn't know why. She catches the hysterics in her tone and straightens. "I mean, if I remember right, you told us that was the one place we'd never be going. That was one of the first things you said, actually."
"Yes, well, I did intend to hold true to that," he quips, stopping abruptly with his arms and eyebrows crossed. "Hence the whole slipping-off-at-the-break-of-dawn-alone escapade."
"But aren't mermaids…evil? I think your exact phrasing was 'unpredictable water-succubi with a penchant for flesh', actually," Emma snorts, supplying her own air quotes along with a (very) bad imitation of his accent.
"You make me sound so old," he pouts.
"You are so old. Stop trying to change the subject again."
He smiles wickedly at that, as if proud of her for catching him. He turns on his heel, marching forward. "Yes, mermaids are dastardly beasts, but only if they don't like you. Me, they happen to love."
He stops again, throwing her a cautious look. He then reaches forward to draw back a curtain of low-hanging vines, revealing a dazzlingly blue inlet, sparkling with dragonflies and gleaming yellow specks of what seems like dust.
Emma gasps despite herself, straining her eyes to get a closer look. Neverland, for all its dangers, never failed to deliver on its promise of beauty. However, she did notice that the two things tended to go hand-in-hand. He steps in front of her, a serious expression etched into his features.
"Darling, a beautiful woman is the only thing mermaids hate more than they hate a bird for being able to fly. And given the fact that you are one hell of a swan, I'd request that you please remain out of their line of sight while I conduct our business."
Her face burns, mouth agape. She's still not sure if that's genuinely the way he sees her or if he's just trying to manipulate her. She bets on the latter, but can't help but hope on the former. "But what business?" Emma asks quietly, hoping to steer the subject back to the mermaids.
"The crocodile and the queen have been getting restless without any leads," Hook sighs, "and I worry for what they may be planning."
"What do you care what they do?" Emma asks, eyes narrowed.
"I don't," he replies smoothly, giving her an intense look, "but I do care what the consequences of that could be. It potentially puts the bloody rest of us in danger. The arrogance of the two leads them to believe they have the element of surprise over our foes—but I assure you, Emma, our presence was known the moment we broke surface."
Emma crosses her arms, considering this. He's right, of course—Regina and Gold have been acting suspiciously secretive in the past few days, sharing hushed conversations and knowing looks. They may have the right intentions—find Henry—but she'd be lying if she didn't worry about their methods.
"So why the mermaids, then?"
"Our enemies have eyes in the sky, but I have eyes in the sea," Hook says with a tinge of pride. "The mermaids are horrible gossips—if they know anything about your boy, they won't be able to resist sharing the intel. Not without a little…prodding, anyway," he adds devilishly, his implication clear.
She's not sure if he's just trying to get a reaction out of her or if he's serious, but it's working either way. Emma huffs, finding her hands on her hips.
He's silent for a long moment, running his tongue over his teeth as he flicks his gaze between Emma and the lagoon. "You've come this far with me, so you might as well be my lookout. But you'll promise you will stay out of their sight?"
Emma rolls her eyes, annoyed at first because she thinks he's insulting her; she can take care of herself, after all. But as she glances over to him, she realizes he wears an expression of worry. Genuine fear. She straightens then, her face sobering. "Yeah."
He smiles, though somewhat nervously, and turns around, slipping through the wall of vines. She waits a few seconds before hesitantly following in suit, crouching behind a nearby boulder as he nimbly hops along the rocky path kissing the lagoon's edge.
He stops on a smooth, dark rock and runs his hand across the surface of the water as gently as one touches silk. The water ripples, and a moment later, a kelp-green slip of hair slowly rises to the surface, followed seamlessly by a whole head, the face of a woman with ice-blue skin, beautiful even from Emma's distance.
He smiles deeply down the mermaid, Emma's stomach already in knots. Nerves, she tells herself. Mermaids are dangerous.
The mermaid swims closer to him, her elbows resting on the rock upon which he perches, her face gleaming with a seductive grin. They begin to speak, but from where she hides, she can't make out what they're saying.
Maybe if she stands, she can get a better ear on it. The mermaid is distracted by him, anyway, and it's not like she doesn't trust him, but she doesn't quite like the way they're leering at each other either. He should focus on—
A small whisper catches her attention, the cobalt-blue head of another mermaid bobbing along the surface, not far off from where she stands. "Psst!" the mermaid giggles, a webbed hand waving gently at her.
Oh hell no, she thinks to herself, remembering Hook's warning. Then, suddenly, it's gone. Hook clearly doesn't know what he's talking about—she's nothing more than a smiling lady. Blue skin, but a trustworthy face nonetheless. The mermaid beckons her closer, humming a tune so quietly it's as if its in Emma's own head, echoing out at her, drawing her forward.
The mermaid continues to sing, growing louder the closer Emma gets to the shore, her hand outstretched for the mermaid to take. She just wants to hear the song, it's so lovely. She's never heard anything like it, but she has to hear more.
Smiling encouragingly, the mermaid reaches forward for Emma's hand. Emma's feet splash into the lagoon, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hook's dark head flash in her direction. Distantly, she hears what she thinks is her name bellowing out to her, but the song is prettier, louder, nearly deafening.
Suddenly, she's pulled under, the water darker than it seemed on the surface. Silvery green scales flash around her, webbed hands clutching her arms. The song is intoxicating at this point, and she feels so sleepy, almost like she's being sung a lullaby…
Abruptly, the singing stops, replaced by unearthly high pitched shrieks which break her from her trance. Holy shit, she thinks, realizing she's drowning. Emma's eyes widen as she takes in the jagged, pearly teeth of a mermaid barreling towards her.
A scream emits from her mouth in the form of a bubble, and she immediately whips her knife from her boot, slashing it at the approaching mermaid. Emma Swan is not going down without a fight.
A gleam of metal catches her eye, followed by the billowing of blood, but before she can get a sense of her bearings, she feels a tug on her ankle, and she's being pulled down farther, deeper, darker. Her consciousness is fading, and she realizes she might die.
She's going to die without ever seeing Henry again. She's going to die without seeing her parents again. She's going to die without seeing—a hook?
That same flash of silver appears in her peripherals, the distinct neck of a hook the last thing she sees before the world turns black.
"No, no, bloody, bloody hell no." She hears yelling, but despite the tone, it sounds distant, far away. It's getting closer, louder.
A pressure keeps beating onto her chest, her brain too fuzzy to make out what it is. Accompanied by the beats is the oddest, softest, warmest feeling on her lips. It's a nice feeling. Like, really nice. Familiar, too. Almost like—
Suddenly, her eyes fly open, spitting water over her shoulder, coughing violently, her throat and nose stinging with salt. Next to her, Hook falls back, his face too close in proximity not to confirm her suspicion that he'd been giving her mouth-to-mouth.
"How about you wait until the first date before trying to get to first base?" She snaps, though she doesn't know why she's angry, given that he just saved her life.
Hook, his face pale and eyes wildly wide, seems to agree, his mouth twisting into a frown. He doesn't need to know the slang to gather the implication.
"How about a thank you, you damned woman?" He throws back, his rage building as he jumps to a standing position, pacing. "You swore! I warned you! Do you have any bloody idea what it was like seeing you—how I—and when—" He runs a hand through his hair, his breathing heavy and ragged.
Emma opens her mouth with a harsh reply, but shuts it abruptly, recognizing his anger a thin mask for hysterical fear. He was worried about her. No one has ever looked at her the way he looks at her now, the strangest mixture of worry, relief, happiness, anger, and…fondness?
Her eyes soften. "I know. I'm sorry."
He relaxes, seemingly loosing the will to argue. "It's my own damn fault for thinking the mermaids wouldn't lure you out," he says finally, slumping onto the sand next to her.
"No," Emma shivers, shaking her head, "you trusted me. I appreciate that, even if it went to shit."
He gives her a bemused, fond smile, offering her his hand. "Isn't that the very nature of our relationship, darling?"
Hook helps her stand, her legs still wobbly. She tries to release his hand, but he catches it, squeezing it to make sure she looks at him. "Please don't scare me like that again, Emma. And…trust me, next time."
She's indescribably touched by the way by which he looks at her. Her parents, she expects this kind of worry from. But not him.
But she's quickly learning he's full of surprises. And so is she, around him. For all her defenses, walls, scars and fears, Emma can't help but smile and give his hand a squeeze back. "I trust you."
longest one yet! would love a review :)