Two weeks later, Emma found herself processing yet another breaking and entering complaint from Gold. Lands, if he wasn't the most paranoid man she'd ever met.

The phone rang. Emma looked at her watch: 11:30, on a Wednesday. Probably a disruption complaint at a place of business. Terrific.

"Storybrooke sheriff department. This is Sheriff Swan."

It was her mom. "You need to come to the school. Now."

Emma stood. "Is Henry okay?"

"He's fine. It's just—Hook is here. I'm pretty sure he's drunk. He came to find Henry at recess."

"On my way. Keep him away from the kids. Don't let him hurt himself."

Emma jammed her car keys into the ignition. The old Volkswagon rumbled onto Main Street as she choked the life out of the steering wheel.

Again? Seriously? What's it going to take? She depressed the brakes for a red light, and as the car rolled back on its tires, Emma had a thought. What if nothing is enough?

She talked about saving him, but ultimately it was his choice how he lived his life. She couldn't choose for him anymore than she could choose for Regina or Gold. She could only give him positive things to live for.

As Emma accelerated through the green light and later steered the car into the school parking lot, she just hoped they were enough.

"Swan!" Hook called from his exalted position at the high end of a teeter-totter. He waved.

Henry returned his mother's nod as she approached.

"Good idea," she said, glancing at the teeter-totter.

Henry let a chortling Hook down to the ground, and then when he'd caught his balance, raised him into the air again. The pirate called out "Wheee!" and threw his hands up.

Emma raised her eyebrows. "He is really gone."

"It's embarrassing." Henry said.

"How long has he been here?"

"About ten minutes." Henry let Hook down and pointed towards the east side of town. "He came from that way. I think he was at the waterfront drinking."

Hook threw his leg over the teeter-totter saddle and ambled towards the merry-go-round. He spun in circles on his way there.

Emma just stared. "Gee. Why would you assume that?"

"Come hither, little cygnet," Hook called over his shoulder, swaying in place as he pointed at the merry-go-round, "and show me how yonder metal contraption works."

"What is he calling you?"

Henry gave her a pained look as he went to Hook. "You don't want to know." He grabbed his arm. "You're plenty dizzy, buddy. Why don't we go sit down?"

Hook stomped his foot. "I want to ride this beastie."

Henry folded his arms. "No."

"Very well." Hook took a long swig from his canteen. When he'd corked it, he smacked his lips with a sigh and reached a wobbly hand to ruffle Henry's hair. "To the docks, lad! I'm going to teach you the difference between starport and . . . whatever the other one is."

"Bonding time is over." Emma pulled Hook's arm around her shoulders before he swayed all the way to the ground. "Time to come with me."

"Wonderful!" Hook smiled, and then he hiccuped. "Run along, cygnet. It's time for the adults to play."

Henry helped them to the car. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Emma shut Hook's door with an emphasis. "I've got child-locks and black coffee. We'll be fine. Sorry about the interruption."

Henry waved it away. He hugged her goodbye. "I think we should have an Operation Yo-Ho status meeting after school."

At the sound of chugging liquid, Emma turned to see Hook going to town on his canteen again. She thrust her hand through the open window and wrenched it away. Hook cried, reaching for it.

"Yeah." Emma growled. "We do."

"Don't kill him."

She slid into the driver's seat. "I'll try. Love you. Hook, stop playing with the buttons!"

Hook gasped when he found the button to lower his window. After raising and dropping it several times over, he rolled it all the way down so he could stick his head and arm out. "Good bye, cygnet! Enjoy your day at the academy!"

"That's it!" Emma threw the car into park. "I am not moving this car until somebody tells me what a cygnet is."

The smile on Henry's face was incorrigible. "It's a baby swan, Mom."

Emma wanted to thump her forehead into the steering wheel all the way back to the apartment.

Emma had dosed Hook up on a double-shot of Dramamine, and she felt exactly zero guilt for it. Now he slept like the stone-laden dead, tucked under the quilted comforter in the guest room.

Which was locked.

From the outside.

Not that he would be awake within the next eighteen hours to notice.

Henry tiptoed inside at 3:45.

"Don't worry about," she called from the kitchen. "The man is out."

He took his position at the counter stools with a pen in one hand and a notebook in the other. "We need a game plan."

Emma stirred the pot of pasta and turned up the heat on the sauce. "I'm all ears."

"We need some objectives that we're working towards. Things we think will help integrate him."

"We gave him a spot in the cemetery. And we bought him clothes."

Henry wrote those down, and then crossed them off. "Not that he's wearing any of them," he added.

"It's a process." Emma tasted her sauce, and then she wrinkled her nose. "How do you feel about pizza again?"

"I thought Grandma wasn't letting you cook anymore."

Emma shot him a dark look.

"I mean, 'It's a process.'" He wore a smile two sizes too big.

She narrowed her eyes but let it pass. A cloud of steam mushroomed over the kitchen sink when she dumped the hot sauce out. "I think the next thing we need to do is find him a job. That way he has a source of income—and something to keep him out of the rum."

Henry dropped his chin into his hand. "Yeah, but like what? You need him close to keep an eye on him."

Emma sighed. She joined him at the counter, folding her arms and laying her head upon them. "And he does only have one hand. We have to be sensitive about that."

"So, dock work is out. And restaurants."

"Shame." Emma frowned. "He would have liked the docks."

Henry cocked an eyebrow. "He could work with you."

Emma stared at him.

"Think about it," Henry sung. "He'd be close. You could keep an eye on him. You need more help around the station."

"I was bored out of my mind at the station today!"

"Exactly. He'd keep your life interesting."

Emma laughed. "Yeah. No kidding. Kid, there's no way he would work when I'm around."

"Mom, he's a pirate. He's going to get bored with a normal job. He needs something exciting. Something adventurous."

"This is Storybrooke. We all have to accept how life is here. There's no Ogre Wars or ship ransacking."

"I know, but like you say, it's a process."

Emma blew air out puffed-up cheeks.

"I think it would be really good for him." When she was silent, Henry pointed. "Ah ha! So do you."

She pinched her nose bridge. "I'll talk to him about it."

"Awesome!" Henry wrote Get Hook a job on his list and numbered it with a three. "Winter is coming. Eventually he's going to need a place to stay."

"You mean other than his seventeenth century boat and our guest room?" Emma said. "Agreed."

"How about an apartment somewhere?"

She nodded. "I think I could help him find a place. Something small. Warm. Close to the water, probably. Everybody needs to have a home."

Henry was quick to say, "But he can still come over, right? Hang out with us?"

"Definitely." Emma squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you two get on. He enjoys spending time with you."

When Henry stared at her eyes, it was unsettling. "I like seeing you happy." Before she could respond, he studied his notebook. "Right. What else? Do you think you'll ever teach him how to drive?"

Emma's snort was short and rough. "One miracle at a time, kid."

He nodded. "Hey! I've got one. We should find out when his birthday is and then throw him a surprise party. That will make him feel connected."

There was a crash from the guest room, followed by a thud, and then a loud, "Swan! Cygnet! Open this door. My head is pounding greatly."

Emma shuffled towards the door. "Call for the pizza, Henry. I'm going to calm down Blackbeard. And he's got to stop calling you that."

"Don't bother, Mom," Henry said as he dialed. He grinned. "I kinda like it."