My first attempt at OUAT fiction, and kinda like my attempt at recovery. This is my method of pulling myself out of this stupid funk I've been for the last year.
Warning: Un-betaed, present tense (my only excuse is exhaustion), too much seriousness, stiff dialogue, all-around bad writing, etc.
Disclaimer: I clearly lack the mastery of the written word to be hired on as a professional writer for a decently popular show. Therefore, I could not possibly be a part of Once Upon A Time's production, much less own it.
It's not the creak of the boards that wakes her up. It's not the whisper of her name in the quiet. It's not the large hand resting on her shoulder.
If she were honest with herself, she'd say it was just a feeling she had, of being watched over and protected, feeling warm despite herself. But she's long since mastered the art of denial, so the explanation is that she was merely dozing, too worried to fall into a deep slumber, which is more or less true anyway.
Emma opens her eyes to blue, so bright that it feels like she's looking at the sky for a second. When the fogginess fades, she takes in the rest of Hook, leaned over her bunk with a tense set to his shoulders and a mix of emotions on his face.
"Emma," he says again, voice barely audible to her even with him so close. It's obvious that he doesn't want to wake anyone else. Without another word, he silently exits the crew's quarters, gesturing for her to follow.
She moves just as quietly after him.
Hook doesn't say another word as they make their way to the other end of the ship, leaving Emma to worry over what could possibly have set him on edge just a day–she glances at the horizon through a porthole and amends–just a few hours before they were finally going to start searching for Henry.
She thought he was heading for the deck, but he surprised her when he instead stood in front of his own cabin. He shut the door behind her after a quick scan to make sure that no one else was up on deck to see them.
She leans against the desk covered in papers and opens her mouth to demand answers, only for him to beat her to the punch.
"We need to talk."
Emma snorts. "Yeah, I figured that much. About what?"
Running a hand through his hair, he looks up at her with a tired gaze (she's suddenly struck with the realization that he has bags under his eyes). "About whether you want to go on the search or stay on the ship."
She stares at him for second, wondering if he's actually serious and yep, her gift tells her, he is. "Of course I'm going," she nearly shouts, incredulous. "It's my son out there!"
He shushes her, hissing, "You're going to wake them up!"
An alarm starts to sound in her mind, and her eyes narrow. "Hook, what haven't you told us?" she demands, because it's suddenly clear that something was left out of his warnings last night about all the dangers of Neverland.
For a few minutes, all he does is scowl at the wall, arms crossed as he seems to contemplate how best to tell her whatever it is that's so important. Finally, he uncrosses his arms and turns back to her with a sigh.
"There is a curse on this god-forsaken island," he begins reluctantly. She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed considering all the curses she's had to deal with lately. This seems to amuse him for a brief moment before the humor drains from his face once more. "It wasn't always here, but much like the Shadow, it's become just as integral to Neverland."
Emma frowns at that, recalling the things he had said about Peter Pan and his Shadow, none of which had been good. She sighs. "So, what's this one do? Make you forget your old life? Turn you into a little kid?"
"It makes it so that you can never leave," he informs her solemnly. "The second you set foot on the land, you are trapped there forever."
She lurches upright in shock. "But you said- But we- How the hell are we supposed to get Henry back, then?" she shrieks, outrage clear in her voice, as she moves towards him in an almost threatening manner.
He meets her halfway, hissing under his breath. "Blast it, Swan. You're going to wake them up at this rate!"
Her eyes narrow at that. "…Why are you only telling me about this?" she asks.
Hook's gaze breaks from hers for a second, a pain she recognizes in them when he turns them back on her.
"Because the only one the curse will affect is you," he admits with a sigh.
"Why?" she demands, "What makes me so lucky?" A part of her can already guess what it is that sets her apart from the others, though.
His answer proves it right. "The curse is there to trap the abandoned. It was made for the Lost children to never find home."
She scoffs at him, despite the familiar ache in her chest. "Yeah, well, I'm not a kid anymore. And in case you didn't notice, my parents aren't letting me go any time soon."
"But you were still abandoned," he gently states, and that little piece her cries out at the reminder. "And that's all the curse will care about."
She soaks that in for a moment and then hesitantly asks, "Then what about-?"
"Your lad should be fine," he quickly responds. "As far as I can tell, he's never been Lost. He's always had someone to care for him, despite the circumstances, and the lad knows it, deep down. Otherwise, he'd have the look." There's something almost comforting in his words, and Emma can't help but be soothed by it.
"Then we can still save him," she tries to confirm, hope once more beginning to burn in her chest.
His gaze pierces into hers, searching, even as he answers slowly, "Aye…"
She sighs in relief. "Good."
"Swan, I don't think you quite get the point of this conversation," Hook starts slowly. "This is about you being cursed."
"The others can get Henry off the island and back home," she mutters to herself, ignoring his words for the moment before stating more loudly, "We go in, get Henry, get everyone out, and they're home-free, right?"
Hook stares at her cautiously, giving the slightest of nods.
"Then that's all that matters," she states, resolve settling into her chest. She moves to head back for the bunks, aiming to get at least another hour of rest before they leave.
The furious glare Hook fixes her with stops her short. "Have you not listened to a word I said?" he growls, striding over to stand between her and the door. "Did you not hear me explicitly state that you would never be able to leave once you set foot on that island?"
She glares back at him, annoyed. "It doesn't matter. Henry's on that island, and I don't care what it takes. I'm getting him back."
"What's the bloody point if you're just going to trap yourself in this never-ending hell, you daft woman?" he practically yells at her, only just managing to keep his voice down. "What good does it do your boy to lose his mother too?" he hisses, aiming for wounds the bastard knows are still fresh.
Too bad for him, she knows how to ignore this particular pain. "At least he'll be safe," she argued back, "And he'll still have at least one mother, plus the best damn grandparents a kid could ask for."
"Then what about your parents?" he retorts, changing tactics. "Are you really going to make them lose their daughter all over again?"
She almost winces at that, but barrels on, regardless. "They'll have Henry," she says calmly, crossing her arms in defiance. "And they'll have each other," she finishes, confident in her parents' love managing to carry them through whatever guilt they might feel.
Something about her responses must cause something to occur to Hook, because he's suddenly looking at her with new eyes, swimming with emotions she doesn't want to think too much about. "You really don't see it, do you?" he breathes, disbelief and something almost like grief entering his tone. "Do you truly not realize how important you are?"
She shifts uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. "Stop that," she orders sharply. "I'm not some little girl throwing a pity-party, and I don't need your flattery." Straightening her back, she stands tall and stares proudly back at the pirate. "My kid needs me. This is no time for me to be worrying about myself or playing it safe."
With that, she walks around him and swiftly opens the door.
"Emma?"
She freezes. Solid footsteps make their way to her, and she turns to face Hook, now barely more than a few inches away.
He tilts his head and gives her that intense stare that seems to see into her soul. "Are you sure of this?" he questions, voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, all she does is gaze back at him. And then she nods firmly.
He closes his eyes in resignation and turns away from her. With nothing more to be discussed, she leaves.
Two hours later, with the sun rising into the sky, they all slowly make their onto the shore: first with David, swiftly followed by Snow, then Regina, and finally an unusually nervous-looking Gold.
Before Emma can make her way off the ship, Hook stops her, gripping her arm tightly. "I promise I'll not rest until I bring your boy back to you," he suddenly vows, keeping his voice low. "Come hell or high-water, I'll save him. You don't have to do this," he appealed to her, sounding almost desperate.
She shook her head at him and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, I do. How can I call myself his mother if I'm not willing to give him my best?"
For a moment, all they do is wordlessly gaze into each other, trying to find something, though she doesn't know what. With a shake of her head, she dispels the moment and pulls herself out of his grip.
The second her feet touch the ground, she feels it. It feels like the sand is holding her in place, and her insides feel like they're being squeezed to death.
It only lasts for a moment, and she inhales sharply once the pressure lessens. She ignores the sharp gaze drilling into her back from the ship and walks towards the others. There's no turning back now.
When Hook lands on the ground and gasps a moment later, exactly like she did, she whirls around to stare at him in horror. "No…"
He looks into her wide eyes and smiles, the suicidal moron. "I promised, didn't I, love?" he cheekily remarks as he walks past her, keeping his eyes on her. "And I don't make a habit of breaking those. I'll save your boy no matter what it takes." His voice drops as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "And I'll save you too."
And with that, he walks off, still looking back at her stunned form.
Upon Snow asking her if she's alright, Emma shakes her head to clear it and answers that she's fine. And the weird part is she herself believes it, she notes to herself as she marches after the pirate that's just thrown his lot in with hers–for good, this time.
She ignores the bubbling feeling of happiness she feels, and the smile on Hook's face that must mirror the one she can feel forming on her own despite her efforts.
"There's no turning back now," she mutters, repeating the sentiment she'd felt earlier.
"No," he responds just as quietly, "there really isn't."
To be continued... (Maybe.)
I really, really hate this. Do you ever write something that turns out differently from how you imagined, much less wanted? And you just kinda give it the hairy eyeball and ask, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
That's basically how I feel about this. Maybe someone can give me some feedback so I can figure out what the hell needs to be fixed so desperately (aside from that it's far more serious than my usual style)? I'd really appreciate it, thanks.
Other than my self-pity, I'm glad that I'm starting to actually produce shit again. Keep hounding me, it motivates me to get my ass in gear. (That's a fucking lie, I'll write at my own pace, regardless, and just piss you all off.)
Should I continue this?