Just a little something that wouldn't leave me alone. Set after 6x01, my prediction about how Emma tells Hook about her premonition. Hope you enjoy. Rated T.
It's not about the shaky hand - it's really not - her assertion that the tremor is stress induced is believable enough and he doesn't doubt that it's at least partially true. It's more about the hollow look in her eyes, the haunted and hunted expression that gets more noticeable every day and the way she smiles overbrightly at him to cover it.
So, really, it's not about the tremor... it's about what's causing the tremor.
It's been two weeks and she's still not saying anything and he doesn't ask because he knows her well and he knows she'll just tell him everything is fine. But it's not. It's not fine. He knows it isn't.
Whatever it is, it's inciting a desperation in just about everything she does, an urgency to her actions that has never been there before. Her steps are brisk, her speech hurried, her breathing shallow and quick. She's barely sleeping, almost like she's afraid to, and when she does, she holds him with a fierce grip, her nose burrowed into his throat until dawn.
Then they meet Aladdin. He notices the matching tremor an instant after she does. She stiffens nearly imperceptibly next to him and he follows her gaze to the man's right hand. She stares hard at it for a good 10 seconds before the street rat notices and casually moves it to behind his back. She hides her own a moment later. He can feel her hesitance when they drop the new arrival at Granny's, a small pause in her steps when he's given his key and directed to his room by the feisty old lady. Later, when they return to the matriarch's establishment for dinner, she disappears half-way through her meal and doesn't return.
It doesn't take long to find her, talking in a low voice to the young man on the steps near the back entrance. He's not jealous, not in a romantic sense, but his temperature spikes at the realization that she's talking to this Aladdin character instead of to him.
Still, he doesn't want to cause a scene at Granny's, so he leaves them to it and goes home to wait for her on the couch in their house, his stomach in a tight knot and his eyes fixed on the door.
He's not sure how much time passes before he finally hears the beetle pull up and the engine cut off. He listens intently for the squeaky sound the vehicle's door makes every time it opens but there's nothing but silence. He waits two solid minutes before he stands and goes to the window, only to see her silhouette hunched over the steering column with her hands gripping at the wheel. Her obvious distress makes the knot in his stomach heavier and he's tempted to go out and confront her right there on the street, but he doesn't, instead waiting with tenuous patience for her to alight from the car. When she does, he sprints back to the couch, settling down and trying to look casual even though he knows he fails. Waiting once more, he listens to her booted feet as she trudges up the steps but then she pauses yet again at the door and he counts off the seconds - 63 full bloody seconds - to keep himself from flinging the thing open and demanding she tell him what she's hiding.
That overbright smile is in full force when she enters, "Hey, where'd you go? I looked for you at Granny's."
It's difficult, but he keeps his voice composed and even, shrugging lightly, "I wasn't sure how long your conversation with the street rat would take, so I thought it best to leave you to it."
Her steps falter only slightly before she shrugs in return, "Just welcoming him to the neighborhood," she replies flippantly, leaning down for a quick welcoming kiss.
Before she can straighten, he shoots his hand out to grab hers, holding her right wrist securely in his fingers. They stare at each other for several heartbeats, her eyes wide and his determined while her hand trembles in the periphery of his vision.
"It's time to tell me, Emma," he says as calmly as he can but he hears the note of anger lacing his voice.
"I already told you," she replies, her eyes flashing and jerking her hand from his grip, "it's just stress."
She turns to walk to the kitchen and he stands to follow her, too determined to finish this to let her get far. "You're not the only one who can spot a lie, Swan. Something else is going on."
She shakes her head in apparent exasperation as she walks and the tenuous control he has on his temper snaps. "Dammit, Emma! I thought we were past this. I thought you'd finally let me in, but here you are erecting these walls again – "
"I'm not!" she bursts, spinning to face him. "I'm not trying to shut you out, I just... I can't..." she pauses for a deep breath and his eyes dart to her hand which is now shaking so much it makes her entire arm twitch. "I'm dealing with it. I'll figure it out."
"Figure out what?!"
She doesn't respond to his outburst and he feels immediate guilt when her face morphs into a pleading expression. It tugs at his heart, so he breathes deep to calm himself, adding in a much gentler tone, "I want to help, Emma. But I can't do that if you won't talk to me."
"There's nothing you can do," she replies with a catch in her voice, her eyes glossing over, "if there was, I'd tell you, but there's nothing you can do."
He clenches his jaw against the pain in his chest, the sight of tears in her eyes stirring both his sympathy and his ire, "So you're just going to continue to keep this from me?" he asks with a trace (okay, more than a trace) of sarcasm.
That sets her off and her voice raises. "Oh no, you don't get to play that card. You've kept things from me since we met... when Gold was manipulating you, when Zelena cursed your lips, what you did in the Enchanted forest during the missing year..."
"That was before!" he bursts in frustration.
"Before what?!"
"Before we found out we're True Loves!"
"And what?" she asks, and now hers is the voice dripping with sarcasm, "You think that because you're my True Love, I should tell you everything?"
"I think it means we're a team, Swan," he responds through his teeth, "And that we help and support each other. Like your parents."
"My parents don't tell each other everything," she says sardonically.
"They do when they're in trouble!" he insists.
"No, they don't!" she yells at the top of her voice, the words echoing off the walls and momentarily taking him aback at their force.
So he doesn't respond for a moment, confusion washing through him when her eyes widen like she realizes she's just said too much because he's got no bloody clue what it could mean. He's never known her parents to keep things from… each… other…
No.
No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't...
Dave had kept something from Snow once… A secret he'd helped Dave keep… in Neverland... when the prince was dying from dreamshade.
When he was dying from dreamshade...
She must see the realization cross his face because she starts to turn away but he's faster and she's in his arms before she can move.
"We won't let it happen, love," he vows, pressing his forehead to hers, "We'll figure it out. I'm not going to lose you. Not now."
"No one can avoid their fate," she says with a crack in her voice, "It's my fate. It's the fate of all saviors. That's what I was talking to Aladdin about tonight. He's a savior, too, and he…"
She trails off and his throat clogs, tears stinging his eyes at the way her fingers curl into the collar of his coat.
"I'm so sorry - "
"Don't," he cuts her off, "Don't say... I don't believe this, love. I refuse to believe it. When Zeus sent me back, he said he was sending me to where I belonged and he sent me to you. This can't be true. We belong together. And we'll beat this... whatever it is."
Her forehead grinds into his when she nods, but the tears spill over and he knows she's only agreeing to placate him. So he pushes one step further, taking the hand that has started trembling again and holding it steady over his heart. The twitching immediately calms and he hears her sharp breath of surprise when she pulls back and focuses on their entwined fingers.
"True Love is the strongest magic of all, Emma," he says quietly, drawing her gaze to his. "We will beat this."
She's kissing him in the next instant, her hand releasing his so she can flatten her palm directly over his heart while her other arm wraps securely around his neck. When she releases him, her eyes are clear and, for the first time in weeks, the smile she gives him is genuine.
"We'll beat this," she agrees.