He knew she'd be back. He would have liked to say that it was just a gut feeling, and that the two of them were so in sync, even without her memory, that he could just feel that she would step back into his life.

But reality was much more mundane than that. She'd left her phone at his apartment.

He'd woken up to the damn thing making an incredibly obnoxious noise the day after Swan had visited. At first, he considered trying to answer it; he'd seen it done before, and the technology was surprisingly intuitive-looking. But Swan was already angry enough with him; as much as it might catch her attention if a mysterious stranger was answering her important phone calls, it would do little to earn her trust or respect.

It made noises the rest of the day. Sometimes, it just made a dinging noise, and other times, it emitted a long, irritating, out of key song. How Swan could stand to be around such a maddeningly noisy device, he would never understand.

That evening, he was stretched out on the sofa, eating an apple and reading an old book of Bae's that seemed mildly interesting, when the phone started ringing and kept ringing. Every time it stopped, there would be a pause, and it would start again. He was ready to chuck the damn piece of technology out the window, but when he picked it up, he saw, "Home" written on the screen, and a photo of Bae and Henry below it.

He followed the screen's instructions (and was quite amused that the image truly slid when he touched it) and lifted the phone to his ear as he'd seen so many of this land's inhabitants do. "Emma Swan's phone?" he said nervously.

"Damn right, that's my phone, and for the last time, it's not 'Swan.'" It was Swan. "I've been calling all day. Why didn't you pick up?"

"I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I answered your phone, to be honest. Should I bring the phone to your apartment?"

"Well you should," she snapped, as if he had intentionally caused her to leave it behind. "But it's probably better if I come there to get it." She paused. "I just don't want you hanging around my family."

"I'd be happy to meet you here. Shall I meet you downstairs?"

"I'll ring the bell, so just buzz me in." He had no idea what she meant, but she'd hung up already.

Thirty minutes later, the terrible, sudden buzzing noise he'd heard last night briefly filled the apartment. He realized that it must be Swan ringing the bell (although if it was a bell, it should have sounded like a bell; this world was confusing), and he stood in front of his door, trying to figure out how to, as she had put it, buzz her in. He spotted a little panel of buttons and pressed the first one. When nothing happened, just to be sure, he pressed the other two as well.

A few minutes later, as he wondered if he should just go downstairs and let her in, she knocked at the door.

"I'm sorry about your phone," he said as he let her in. In truth, she had been the one to forget it; she'd set it down on the table when she'd found Bae's old mail. But it was his own behavior that had caused her to leave in such a rush that she'd forgotten it. "Thank you for coming by to get it."

"Thanks for not making prank calls on it or whatever," she mumbled, picking it up from the table where he'd left it and slipping it into her coat pocket. She kept her head down, as if she might burn him to cinders with her glare if she met his gaze.

"Swan, I'm sorry about yesterday."

That got her attention, and she finally looked him in the eye. He had been expecting anger, and there certainly was some. But he hadn't expected to see fear and confusion.

"I did what I did out of frustration, and it wasn't fair to you. You—your heart, it's not free, and I put you in a terrible position."

She chuckled. "The way you talk—it's weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, about my heart not being free. That's a fancy way of saying that I'm married."

But it wasn't. He didn't care if she was married, or if she believed she was married. That had nothing to do with her heart; Milah had taught him that. But he stayed quiet.

He thought (and feared) that she would leave as soon as she retrieved her phone, but instead, she wandered around the tiny apartment as if it were an art gallery. "This isn't really your apartment, is it?" she asked, touching the spines of the books on the bookshelf.

He scratched his ear nervously. "It isn't, no. But I had nowhere else to stay, and clearly Neal isn't using it."

A decorative item on the window caught her attention, and he heard her whisper something under her breath, though he couldn't quite catch it. She turned her head towards him. "That's right; you think Neal lived here."

"He did live here."

She returned to the table where Neal's mail was sitting and proceeded to open and read each item one at a time. He wasn't sure what she expected him to do while she engaged in that particular activity; after a few moments, he walked to the window and leaned against the sill. It had begun to rain, and the lights in the city gave the precipitation an otherworldly feel.

A few minutes later, Swan's voice startled him, although she wasn't talking to him. He jerked around at the sound, only to find her using her phone.

"May I speak to your supervisor? Hello, I'm Emma ... Swan. I've been hired to look into the whereabouts of a Mr. Neal Cassidy. Can you confirm that he either is or was employed with your organization?" She paused, listening to the answer. "Thank you. What were the dates of his employment? Yes, thank you. Actually, yes, that would be immensely helpful. 'Ee,' 'ess,' 'see,' 'bonds' at gee-mail dot com. Sure. 'Ee' as in 'echo,' 'ess' as in 'sierra,' and 'see' as in 'Charlie.' And then 'bonds' as in 'bail bonds.' Thank you very much."

After ending the call, she resumed rifling through the mail. Finally accepting that she was investigating, and that she was clearly ignoring him for the time being, Hook approached the table to grab his book, and then proceeded to sit at the kitchen table to read.

"Harry Potter is an odd choice for a man in his thirties," she commented, but she didn't elaborate, and he didn't know how to respond.

Several minutes later, her phone rang.

"Hey, babe," she said as she picked up. "I'm just doing some research for a new case. Don't worry, you know that I know what I'm doing. My contact wasn't available until after working hours. Neal, he's twelve, he knows how to get ready for bed, and he knows that my cases sometimes mean I'm home late. Well, not everyone gets to work nine to five, Neal." Her eyes flicked up at him, as if to warn him that he'd better not comment on the conversation. "No, it's not about him, okay? I haven't seen him since he came to the apartment looking for me. Listen, I really can't talk right now, so if you could just give Henry a kiss goodnight for me … okay, I'll try to be home soon." She ended the call, looking angry and embarrassed that there had been someone present to hear the conversation she'd had.

"It is quite late," Hook finally said, setting the book down.

"I'm not done," she said stubbornly, gesturing at the mail in front of her.

"You have my word that I won't disturb a single page of your research," he assured her. "Nor will I disappear. You can be sure of finding me here."

He felt tiny as she assessed him, as if she were taking each word in her hands and shaking it for truth. "Okay." And she stood, made a point of checking for all of her belongings, especially her phone, and left.

The next morning, the city was gray with rain; even if he hadn't promised Swan that he wouldn't leave the apartment, he wouldn't have been inclined to.

His confinement in the apartment was more difficult than he'd expected. He'd flown through those Harry Potter books, but Bae only had three of them, and he was sure that there had to be another installment in the serial. He'd tried to start some of the other books on the shelf, but found most of them incomprehensible, and he'd already reread the books he'd brought with him from the Jolly Roger.

The sheets of paper strewn about the table in front of the sofa were tempting to sort through; Swan appeared to glean a significant amount of information from them, and he wanted to see what he could discover for himself. But he had sworn to her that he wouldn't touch. She might notice if a single sheet were out of place, and it wouldn't do to lose whatever trust he'd gained (if he had, in fact, gained any at all).

Out of boredom, he cleaned the apartment again, but due to his earlier, more thorough scrubbings, there wasn't much that needed cleaning. Some of his clothes were beginning to smell; he used the stall in the washroom to wet his clothes, and he washed them with some soap he'd found on the sink. Then, although he'd just washed the other day, he did so again; regular bathing was a pleasure he'd never had before, and he found he quite enjoyed it.

Feeling refreshed, he decided to make another go of one of Bae's confusing books, and he found it enjoyable, although a little unnerving. When Swan hit the obnoxiously loud bell early in the evening, it was at a particularly heart-pounding moment in the novel, and he nearly fell out of his chair in fright.