EPISODE TAG 5X22: BREATHLESS

"You know the bloody crocodile." It was a statement, not a question. A phrase with an undercurrent of vehemence, rage, and frustration that David hadn't heard from Hook in quite a while. It was his old self returning; the shell reconstructing in the face of a possible enemy.

"Who are you? What do you really want?" Suspicion coloured and simultaneously masked his accent as he strode forward, stopping right in front of bars. David would have smiled at the protectiveness if their visitor had not grabbed Hook by the throat and started squeezing, cutting off Hook's words with one gesture.

David lurched forward as Hook spluttered, easily sliding behind the captain and attempting to remove the other's hand. It was a futile effort; there was no way he was dislodging the strong hold, but he tried.

Hook's head hit his shoulder with one of David's pulls and remained there.

The desperate wheezes that gave place to meek keening as Hook's eyes slowly rolled back almost made David beg his wife to somehow block his ears. If it weren't for the gritted teeth and high flush in his cheeks, David would have thought Hook dead already.

Snow was talking to the other, trying to break through his hold with her words, but David was only half listening. Hook's knees were giving out and Charming could feel him sliding downwards, held only in place by David and the chokehold.

The other man promptly let go and Hook collapsed in David's hold, his whole body spasming with coughs as he attempted to replenish the air in his lungs. David lowered him to the ground but Hook scampered to his feet, determined to at least remain standing in front of his enemy, even if his defiance was ruined by the coughs that had him nearly bending double, one hand clutching his injured throat. David turned his attention to the stranger (and pushed Hook to stand behind him), affirming the fact that Rumpelstiltskin had indeed found love. He didn't release his hold on Hook; he had the feeling that it was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"Let us go, and you won't have to worry about us ever again."

And they would be able to get Hook checked out; David wasn't liking Hook's struggle at all even as the captain straightened, his glare casting a heavy shadow in the room. The stranger remained unaffected and left, his smugness enveloping their very being.

The door closed completely before Hook sat down heavily, a barrage of coughs escaping – he was evidently dizzy, even if he wouldn't admit it. David frowned slightly, pushing Hook forward so that he could breathe easier, and it was a testament to his worry that Hook silently complied, not even teasing him for his mother-Henning.

When Hook kept rubbing his throat even hours later, David noticed the raw redness beneath his ears, slowly being covered by purple hues that would bruise starkly. Hook's careful breathing replaced his speech, and it didn't take a detective to notice that he was hurting.

It did take knowing him well to notice that he had been shaken with the close brush with death. Mary Margaret was also staring at him every now and then, attempting but failing to be subtle.

"You alright?" He had to break the awkwardness somehow, and the situation presented itself when Hook raised his hand to rub his neck again.

"Aye, bloody fantastic. What the devil did you think the crocodile did to that warden?" His voice sounded normal enough -David had thought that it would sound worse-, and it was obvious that Hook did not want to talk about what had happened.

"It could be anything." Mary Margaret shrugged, abiding to Hook's silent request before the door opened once again, cutting off their conversation before it even began.

It was easy to forget about Hook's incident once they were back home and embracing each other and being generally joyful, but they were reminded of it again when Hook fell asleep in the car.

In the time while David drove from New York to Storybrooke, Captain Hook looked more like Killian Jones than David had ever seen him.

Killian knew he wouldn't be able to hide his injuries from Emma. Hearing her admit that she loved him was wonderful, beautifully so, and seeing her bashful smile warmed his very core, but it all faded away when she wrapped her hands around his neck to kiss him, fingers digging right into the bruises.

Their kiss was cut short when he choked in his attempt to muffle his groan, and it quickly led to a barrage of painful coughing that had him using her shoulder for support.

She pulled back, angling his head to the side so that she could see where he was hurt. A frown marred her features as the knowledge of what had happened dawned on her, and Killian let his mask drop and his fatigue seep through his body, trusting that she'd know what to do.

"Come on, let's go home."

He allowed her to push him into her car and buckle him in, not feeling up to arguing with her about treating him as if he was an invalid. She'd do what she wanted anyway; her stubbornness was both endearing and infuriating. He half-dozed during the ride, cursing the exhaustion that weighed him down but having no way to remedy it until he was sleeping in a bed – preferably with her by his side.

He barely remembering changing and removing his hook before being lost in the swirling world of dreams.

Emma called David as soon as Killian fell asleep, buried deep under the blankets. It was uncharacteristic of him to sleep so quickly, and she was worried about the markings on his throat; she knew enough to notice that he had been strangled, but she wanted to know the details before calling Whale to check on him.

"Hey Dad, what exactly happened to Killian?" She kept her tone light and left the room, leaving him to his rest.

"Call Dr Whale, he needs to check up on him. Hyde choked him almost to unconsciousness; he was fine, but it's better to make sure he won't suddenly stop breathing. Can I come over?" He sounded even more worried, and she couldn't help the smile upon seeing (hearing) more evidence that her father approved of her boyfriend. Really, their bromance (and their refusal of it) was rather cute.

"Yeah, sure. He's asleep for now, I'll call Whale before Killian has a chance to protest. See you, dad." Emma checked to make sure that Hook was still sleeping and couldn't help the rise of her eyebrows when she noticed that he was drooling. She'd wipe that off later, right now she had to call Whale.

Emma rested her back against the bedrest while Whale listened to Hook's heartbeat. The latter had slept through her and David talking over him and through Whale attempting to get them to leave so that he could conduct his exam in peace, but he was slowly stirring as Whale dragged the stethoscope over his chest.

He seemed to be falling back to sleep before Whale's fingers gently probed his throat, checking for swelling. Honestly, she should have expected his reaction. Hook startled awake, his one hand promptly going for the attack. His stump was immediately stopped by her grip and David managed to restrain his hand before it made contact, but he strained against them with some desperate energy that he hadn't shown since before they went through the portal.

"LET ME GO!" The words were barely decipherable. A snarl pulled at his features and Emma was momentarily worried that he was experiencing a waking nightmare before pain contorted his face and he spasmed, coughs shaking his whole body.

Whale promptly turned him on his side, bidding David to go grab some water before putting the stethoscope on Killian's back. Emma didn't pay much attention to him; she held Killian, making sure that he didn't accidentally bash his head against the nightstand until he somewhat calmed. Fine tremors still coursed through him, but at least he wasn't attempting to cough up his lungs.

She heard, rather than saw, David coming back in.

"I'm going to sit you up, Hook. Don't struggle, okay?" Hook nodded and allowed Whale and David to pull him in a sitting position while Emma stacked the pillows behind his back so that he could lean against them. David had the good mind to cup the back of Killian's head before raising the glass to his lips, semi-forcing the captain to take a few sips before taking it away.

"Does your throat hurt, Mr Jones?" Whale questioned, sitting next to Killian's hip with a torch in hand. Killian frowned warily at it before opening his mouth, but no words came out. He opted to nod instead – there was no point in lying if he could barely talk. "That's normal. Can I check for damage now or will you bite my fingers off?"

"Tempted." The word was slightly garbled but comprehensible, and Emma couldn't help her snort as David subtly cuffed Hook.

Companionable silence descended as Whale probed Hook's throat, forced him to swallow a couple of times, and then checked the inside of his throat with the torch again. Needless to say, Hook was fidgety by the end of it, fingers tapping relentlessly against the sheets as he shied away from Whale's touch (and torch) when the doctor checked the reaction of his pupils.

"You'll be fine; you just need rest and fluids. Try to avoid talking for now," Whale told Hook before turning to Emma, "If he has difficulty breathing, bring him in immediately. Try to keep him on liquid foods; his throat's swollen."

"Thanks, Doc," Emma got up to walk him out, knowing that Killian wanted some alone time after that. He hated doctors with a passion.

"Snow is going to bring you some soup later, it'll soothe your throat." David smiled at the captain, but the latter grimaced at the prospect.

"Rum." A small cough escaped with the word and David shoved the glass of water in his hands again.

"Doubt that will do you any good; you'll get some honey later." Killian actually pouted. David couldn't help his snort as Killian swung his legs to the ground and stood, momentarily using the prince as a crutch before gaining his own two feet and padding around the room. "Do you need help with something?" Killian looked positively thunderous at that prospect.

"No. Wash." His voice was so scratchy that it pained David just hearing it; it was always a bit gravelly, but now it was like hearing two rocks scratching against each other.

"Enjoy." David smiled, squeezing Killian's shoulder before leaving.

Hopefully, the pirate had gotten the message: Glad you're still here.

Hook stomached about half a plate of soup before pushing it away, tired of the effort it took to swallow it. Emma took his plate to dump its contents back into the pot, and Snow raised her eyebrows when Hook looked apologetically at her, his mouth opening before she shushed him.

"I know you like my cooking, Hook. It's okay, just try not to speak for now." She chided softly as a faint, pink blush coloured his cheeks and spread over his nose. It was rather endearing, honestly.

"MUM, I'm home! Got the movies you asked for, should I set them up?" Henry's yell echoed through the house and Hook heard him dump his bag near the entrance. He wondered what the bloody hell the kid was carrying for the bag to create that thump; books? He never liked those things.

"Yeah honey, we'll be right there," Emma responded, finishing off the dishes and leaving them to dry. "Come on, we're having a movie marathon – Without a running commentary, Killian." She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, allowing her to pull him to the living room, where she dropped a blanket on him and curled against his side, letting him hold her close, even if it was with his stump.

"Speaking of honeys, this is for you, Hook." David put a glass on the small table next to him, and suddenly it made sense why Emma was curled against his left side – sneaky little thing.

"It will help your throat, and it has a bit of whisky in it, so you don't miss the alcohol all that much." Snow smirked as she settled down, following Emma's example and curling against her husband's side as Henry popped in the DVD.

"What're we watching?" Hook uttered, grimacing at the sound of his voice and promptly coughing as his throat protested him using it so soon.

"Oh, you'll love it. It's your own movie! Except you have a few more pounds in it." Emma laughed, her shoulders jerking slightly as Henry pressed play. He huffed, opting not to answer over giving himself even more grief when he saw the image flicker on the box and Peter Pan's supposed love and innocence. "Oh relax, it's just a film. We all know you're a lovable hero now." Emma slapped his chest lightly, smiling at him innocently until he eased his glare.

"Pirate, not hero." He said, huffing when David snorted at that response. Honestly, where did the people here get their film ideas from?

He swallowed half the glass of what David had given him, unwilling to admit that it was indeed soothing, and settled in a comfortable position to watch 'his story'.

If he and Emma fell asleep an hour into it, nobody said anything, only put another blanket on them before lowering the volume and allowing them to rest.

After all, God knew when they would have another night like this.

Hello! So, this is just a drabble because I was getting back into OUAT; I'm halfway through season 6 but not finish it for now for sure. I should be getting back into writing as I recover from these exams; they were brutal and I'm still going to lectures so although I have ideas, they might be a bit slow in production.

Anyway; Hope you enjoyed this - feel free to leave comments on what you liked best, what you'd do differently, etcetera. Anything you like!

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT, or Killian Jones, sadly.

Kudos,

Chrisii.