Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters of Once Upon A Time. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
"Oh, Emma! There you are."
Emma rolled her eyes at Granny - the Widow Lucas, as Killian called her - as the restaurant proprietor ran out of her establishment.
"Granny," David greeted from beside Emma, slamming the door behind him, Henry running onward to make their order, Mary Margaret still in the truck with the heat running, knowing that it wouldn't take them long to pick up lunch and then the security of the loft where they intended to wait out the snowstorm before visiting the cemetery for Henry. "Shouldn't you be inside running your diner?"
The man chuckled at his own words, a father at heart undeniably.
Emma rolled her eyes at him, too. She waited for the usual swat from Granny and promise that Red was just as trustworthy to season his double cheese burger as she was.
Nothing came.
Instead, Granny's distressed grey eyes remained fixed on Emma; hard and terrified and holding onto her forearm so tightly Emma could have sworn the woman had claws.
The snow had stopped falling, apparently heavier on the docks than it was in the streets of Storybrooke where evidence of it still marked the pathways, but there was a distinct chill in the air.
More than a chill.
Something that seeped beneath woollen layers and froze the blood.
Although the numbness in her fingers, beneath the warmth of her gloves, may have been attributed to the loss of circulation in her arm.
Emma attempted to twist her arm out of the woman's grip, still not accustomed to affectionate touches and even less so pleading ones. But Granny held on tight, to the point of shaking Emma's arm. Evidently, something was not only prowling around town, but terrifying enough to scare the unshakable wolf woman.
"I've been calling the sheriff's station all day."
Emma winced, knowing that wasn't an accusation and that it was highly likely that she was already on the case. Still, she couldn't deny the lance of ill-content that sluiced through her with the chill from the snowfall.
She'd fought so hard to become sheriff of this town, and, while it it had been a year, and she'd barely been in town long enough to perform her duties (Enchanted Forest and Neverland excursions pulling her focus), Emma still had a permanent job here. Yes, most of it did fall under the umbrella of being the Saviour, but Storybrooke was a town full of thieves and ethnic groups, competing carpentry and floristry businesses, and a church and pawn shop full of treasures. There was also rumour of a band of pirates living in the dockhouse but Emma had pointedly left that to the sheepish looking Killian who promised he'd deal with them when they received that particular call.
It was the little duties that Emma had let fall to the wayside while tiptoeing around Henry and her parents, for two different but very much identical reasons.
She still checked on Hansel and Gretel, as they preferred to be called, to make sure they were taken care of by their father, and was glad to note that Jefferson had made peace with Grace's cursed parents - a baker and his wife who could bare no children of their own and had eagerly adopted some of the Lost Boys when they returned from Neverland, only seeking out Grace on the weekends and holidays. The Lost Boys, for all the trouble they had been, had been allocated homes before Pan's curse had returned them (some to the Enchanted Forest with their new families, some to Neverland). Someone, who Snow and David claimed remained anonymous but the story was entirely too obvious for Emma's suspicious, went back to Neverland to return those that wanted to remain with their adopted families in the Enchanted Forest. (It had been Tinkerbell, who had found herself back in Neverland with working magic and a gang of small boys who trusted her and had good memories and a lot of faith in her, themselves and their new families, but the fairy refused to take even Hook's proud, but unsurprised, mildly teasing, compliment.)
So sometimes the dwarves had to deal with burnouts in their field and Jaqcues had to track down his own fabric suppliers for late shipments and the boycotts at the butchers might have gone unchecked sometimes. But none of that would account for Granny's evident took a deep breath, ready to explain that the monkeys that had been shot had entirely disappeared and there was no way to get them back, whoever they may have been. Unless the woman was going to say Zelena had stopped by, or Gold, then Emma didn't know how she would placate the woman. The attacks were escalating, obviously, not confined to the town line any more, but on a positive note, Mary Margaret was due any day and they would end one way or the other soon.
"We have our memories back," she said in her best effort to calm the woman, "And Zelena's made her plans known. We know what she wants, and we have a pretty good idea of how to stop her."
Granny shook her head, shaking Emma's arm in the process.
"The Captain," the hiss was harsh and growing louder, more distressed as Granny implored Emma to listen. "Oh, that sweet boy, he's missing."
Pain lanced through Emma's chest. So strong she didn't even have time to contemplate how the owner of the diner had referred to the pirate. Pain, but not surprise.
She'd said some exceptionally awful things to him this week. Hell, ten minutes ago. Like every time, her words had made Hook bite his lips together and bow his head, like he sort of agreed. His eyes didn't flash with anger or disagreement the way they normally did, annoyed or playful like when she called him a pirate on the beanstalk and he preened like it was a compliment. Instead, it had been like it had in Neverland and she'd called him a pirate, accused him of flirting, and his eyebrows drooped and his shoulders dropped and he'd taken the insult to heart. His emotions, as ever, had been drawn on his face, worn on his sleeve for all to see and Emma had noticed every nuance of it.
Whatever he was keeping secret, however he had escaped the curse, whatever he was doing with Henry, Hook hadn't thought it would garner any anger from her. He expected indifference at worse and a proper Neverland thank you at best. which, if Emma allowed herself to think about it any further, she figured that was exactly the reason he was keeping it secret. After all, he didn't seem ashamed of his I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it won't be because of any trickery. But Emma had banished the thought from her mind, she had too much to think about. Most of which included how she was going to survive this, how on earth she was meant to use her magic to defeat Zelena when she couldn't even control it, could barely even make it work except for that one terrifying moment in the Dark Hollow, and how, exactly as she was terrified of, Henry immediately found his spot beside Regina the moment he had his memories was worse, was that what Emma had said had caused a chain reaction of other people turning on him; his mate.
Emma had watched it happen in Neverland, the captain with centuries of leadership experiences shrinking when the shepherd reduced him to a villain (something he had worn proudly when he said it, and didn't Emmaa know all about using words and reading people to give them what they expected instead of the truth as cement for your walls. It was a trick she knew well; give them what they expect and be unsurprised by the fear and loathing returned, giving yourself a reason to never form a real relationship, never find yourself surprised by people betraying you). She'd watched those walls, already somehow completely lowered at the top of a beanstalk, grow back brick by brick as Pan taunted them with Neal's return, and at the same time, fall ever so slightly every time David insulted him. She'd been jealous of that, on that island. She would have doubled down on the reinforcement of her walls. Killian did the opposite, every jibe made the facade fall until he was showing David his true colours, showing him how he was hurting, exposing those vulnerable spots.
Somehow, in that humidity, their tempers hadn't flared. They'd formed a bond. Emma had teased Hook about it but he wore it proudly. He had no qualms or excitement about the royal family, he just saw David as another member of his crew, or higher, they were on equal footing (although Emma was certain that wasn't possible, you don't live 300 years and not learn a thing or two that most people couldn't master in a single lifetime). David played at being overprotective and disapproving of Hook back in this town, and in all honesty, Emma had expected that on Neverland the entire tentative friendship might have been a ruse to get her dad to approve of him. Nor was it likely that David was lying. His obvious disdain of Hook was dwindling but there had never been a control or another variable for Emma to figure out whether he was being overprotective of her by refusing friendship with the other man, or showing Emma that he approved of the pirate as a romantic partner and was bringing him into the fold, nor was he trying reverse psychology. Or, at least, Emma would never know because David barely spoke to Neal on Neverland, and Neal hadn't bothered to get to know David either.
Instead, David and Killian got beers with Robin and lunch with Henry and chatted incessantly and Emma didn't think all of that could be faked. She didn't detect any lies when they joked or when either of them accidentally expressed wanting to catch up. Nor did Henry, for that matter.
But even with all of that interpersonal history, one word from Emma had made David turn on the pirate. He'd built charges on nothing but Emma's indignation that someone else had been aware of how much danger Henry was in and once again someone else was being more of a parent than she was (there was an undercurrent of something else too, the image of Killian in particular being the parent to Henry, and exactly how that made her bubble with excitement and fear in equal parts).
Irrational with fear, and probably, in all likelihood, shame that she hadn't sent word or made preparations to find Emma when she had planned to enact a curse by killing the father of her unborn child, her mother had joined in the fray.
Emma wouldn't stick around for that either.
Yet, the fact that Killian had let her walk away and, for the first time since they met, not rattled chains or fought for himself or pleaded with her to listen or think or have faith in him, rankled Emma.
It didn't make sense for her to feel that way. A month ago, his presence had irritated her; the fact that he was there for her, had travelled realms for her and that soft, smirking look he gave her when it was just the pair of them against the world because everyone else was a little preoccupied made her ache. She ached in the same way now that he was gone.
Worse, actually.
He'd let them walk away, let her leave him. Emma hadn't seen him since, but she expected the next time she did-if she did-then he'd be wearing that same forlorn expression (she hadn't even known what that word meant until she'd met Hook and he'd looked at her like that. [That doesn't mean I would leave your father to perish on this island]), looking at her like she'd taken his heart from his chest; as though he wasn't even surprised.
"I can't even smell him on you," Granny claimed. Emma nodded, trying to angle her shoulder backwards so she could pry her arm out of the woman's grasp. It didn't work. Emma knew the scent Granny was talking about, that warm breeze on the ocean on a crisp summer morning, and sometimes a rich wooden scent, like polish or whatever she imagined mahogany smelt like. "Normally, the pair of you reek."
Emma finally got her arm out of the woman's grip and fiddled with her sleeve, pulling it down and rolling her shoulders. She dropped her eyes down to the pavement that looked like it had been recently ploughed for patrons. "I'm sure he's fine."
Probably hopped on a boat with Smee and left.
Granny shook her head emphatically. "He was shoved into a car this morning by the Dark One and no one's seen him since."
"Getting into a car is hardly cause for-"
Granny levelled Emma with a look.
Of course Emma knew Hook would never willingly work with his Crocodile, unless they were in Neverland trying to save Henry, or digging Neal's grave.
"The trunk."
Granny's eyes swept the surrounds again, her wise, all-seeing gaze searching the street as though the elusive Captain Hook would be in the car they'd left parked on the street entertaining Mary Margaret.
Emma's fingers latched onto the older woman's arm, holding her tightly, getting the woman to look her dead on. "What?"
"Normally, the Captain helps me with the bread delivery in the morning," Granny explained, her words too rushed for Emma to stop her and ask questions like: what in the hell does that mean? "Instead of meeting the truck out back, the Dark One had him bound and gagged and pushed him into the back of a car."
"This morning?"
That didn't explain why he'd been distancing himself, spending more time with Granny apparently, instead of her, for just over a week.
Which meant the curse on his lips wasn't new but the threat to Henry was. Which meant he'd been keeping this secret for a while, struggling with the weight of it, and on neither occasion felt like he could come to her for help.
Granny's insistence wouldn't let Emma's mind wander any further. "Emma, please. We need to find him. Oh, if he's been turned into one of those things-"
Emma rolled her eyes. There's no way Hook would allow that. Nor would he, if that had happened, turn evil. She got the distinct impression that whatever it was - willpower or stubbornness - that made sure he had survived so long would survive the transformation and instead of turning on them, Emma would have a flying monkey working for her if Hook was turned into one.
"He's fine."
"Just because you feel in your guts that nothing is wrong."
"No," Emma shook her head, letting go of Granny's arm. She hadn't realised she'd been holding the woman so desperately tight. "I was just with him."
"Then why is he not here now?" the older woman insisted. "Something is seriously wrong, Emma. Obviously the Dark One is m-"
"Everything alright ladies?"
"Captain!" Granny beamed, catching Emma's elbow with the back of her hand and shooing her out of her way.
Emma turned on the ball of her feet to watch the exchange between the inn owner and the pirate who rented a place at her establishment.
Killian was sauntering toward them, his long leather coat swaying around his knees, chest on proud display and his shoulder and hair still powdered with snow.
"You missed deliveries this morning," Granny scolded, swatting at Killian, her wide smile gone from her face and replaced with a deep scowl.
"Apologies, Ma'am." Blue eyes flicked over Granny's messy bun to meet Emma's eyes but Emma refused to meet them, pulling her focus down to the wet pavement and biting her lips together. She didn't care if he was sad or if she should apologise. She was angry and she had a right to be.
"Had me worried sick."
Red dusted the tops of Killian's ears, and Emma watched as his hand came up to scratch behind one of them.
Emma's chest ached again, higher than before; like acid reflux burning in her throat. She hadn't even noticed Killian's distress; worried too much about how he was pulling away from her to see that he was pulling away for her, too expectant of the betrayal, assuming it was the same as everybody else who gave up on her when she got too difficult, to see how he was protecting her.
But Granny saw it. Emma was glad someone was looking out for him, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it should have been her.
It should have been her.
"Now get in there and take a seat," Granny linked her arm with Hook's and urged him forward, the pair of them passing Emma. "When was the last time you ate?"
Killian held the door open for Granny and Emma knew exactly what he was asking when his gaze fell on her over his shoulder at the door. She shook her head at him. His smile dropped again.
You could be part of something, wasn't that what she had told him?
Then why did her stomach twist and her throat get tight when he smiled so wolfishly at Granny, or when the woman knew more about his day than she did? Why did she feel so sluggish and disordered, like she was dragging her feet in the wrong direction, when she trudged back to the car to sit with her mother? And why did she resent the fact that David and Henry were ten minutes longer than they promised they'd be, and came racing out of the establishment with laughter and giddy smiles, and Emma knew exactly why?