Sleeping Draught

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even a little bean.

Emma's eyes snapped open, her heavy breaths filling the air inside the tiny cabin. With the back of her hand, she wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed along her hairline. Henry, where are you?

He was gone. In fact, in the space of a few hours, she had witnessed both her son and her ex-lover fall through two different portals towards unknown destinations. With one of them surely dead.

That was how she found herself on a boat - ship, an accented voice mentally reminded her in an irritated tone - with...God, she could not even begin to describe the motley crew that was currently sailing towards the island of Neverland on the Jolly Roger, in search of her child.

I'm going to Neverland.

The room seemed to shrink around her, and she felt dizzy. It was too much. She needed Henry. He was her rock, her lighthouse.

Her heart tightened, and she felt herself suffocate. Air. First, she needed air.

Grabbing a sweater that hung on one of the bedposts, she quietly left her room. She found herself in the narrow corridor that ended with stairs leading to the decks. The doors that lined the corridor were all shut. As she passed David and Mary Margaret's cabin, she paused, but decided against waking them. They needed as many rested people as possible for the journey ahead. She was certainly not contributing on that front.

In fact, two nights of interrupted, fitful sleep were starting to show on her weary features, and in her leaden limbs. Her head throbbed as she climbed up the stairs, and a sigh escaped her lips when she felt the Neverland breeze tickle her skin.

A multitude of stars glinted in the ink black sky. The soft thud of waves brushing against the ship's hull engulfed her in a sense of peace. She wandered over to the edge of the ship, and stared at the waters below, hypnotized by the ripples. Ever since their arrival, she had acknowledged the beauty of the land - the endless blue skies, the sparkling ocean - but at that moment, Neverland was mesmerizing. Enchanting, even-

A rough tug on her sweater tore her away from her thoughts. "Swan! Bloody hell, woman."

Hook's voice was low, but the still night seemed to amplify it. "Could you please not offer your pretty little head to the mermaids?"

She found herself practically nose to nose with the black-vested captain, his electric blue eyes hidden under thick, dark eyebrows knitted together. The hand that had pulled her sweater rested on her lower back, fingers spread out. She could feel each one of them, their warmth inching towards her skin.

As she opened her mouth to answer - what exactly, she was not sure - he released his hold and strode towards the helm, muttering under his breath. "Dangling your head over the edge like that. One tug on those blond locks of yours..."

She shot one last glance towards the shimmering tip of a tail disappeared below the surface. Oh.

"Trouble sleeping, Swan?" Emma turned her attention back to the pirate, who was now sitting under the helm, on the wooden floor, surrounded by a mass of covers. His long leather coat was draped over the wheel. The heat from his hand was slowly ebbing away, leaving tingles in its place.

She grimaced, tugging her sweater closer. "A little." As he pulled the covers around his legs and body, shuffling into a more pleasant position, she stared at him in alarm. "You can't possibly be sleeping out here." He's crazy. He must be freezing.

The dark-haired captain merely shrugged. "I like to keep an eye on the helm. Someone has to make sure you sorry lot arrive on the island in one piece. You seem particularly keen on tempting fate." His tone was light, but she could hear the underlying exhaustion lacing his words.

She bristled at his words. "I can take care of myself, Hook."

"Oh, I don't doubt that, love. This is my ship, though, and its passengers are my responsibility." His features darkened. "Regrettably, in some cases."

Emma responded to his comment with a reprimanding glare. Turning towards the vast expanse of water, she gestured vaguely at her surroundings. "Look at this place. It's...beautiful."

His eyes studied her for a moment, and she began to feel self-conscious, as she always did when he fixed her with that intense blue stare. It was unnerving. And annoying. "The most dangerous things always are," he finally replied, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, as though he were sharing a private joke with himself. Damn pirate.

Stifling a yawn, he patted the ground next to him. "Sit down, Swan. I don't bite." He cocked his head to the side and the corners of his eyes crinkled impishly. "Unless, of course, you want me to, in which case I would happily oblige." God, even in this semi-comatose state he spits them out like some kind of defense mechanism. Which they probably were, she realized.

"Charming as usual, I see," she interrupted dryly, but joined him nonetheless. She could use some company; if it happened to be a sleep-deprived, suggestive pirate - who managed to simultaneously exasperate and amuse her - so be it.

"If I'm not mistaken, that would actually be your father," he chuckled, fiddling with his hook. "Who, by the way, might one day manage to kill me with his hate-filled glares." As Emma started to deny the allegations - weakly, she had to admit - Hook scoffed. "He threatened to shoot me in the face, darling. That just screams appreciation."

"You knocked him out with a crowbar!"

The pirate held one hand up. "Not my shining moment. However, I had a goal in mind, and the ends justified the means," he countered defensively. "In any case, he punched me, so we're even now. Your father has one hell of a right hook, I must say." To illustrate his point, he raised the metal appendage, a self-deprecating smile plastered on his face.

"David doesn't hate you," Emma said slowly, as Hook shook his head in disbelief. "He doesn't. He just.. doesn't trust you."

Hook studied her out of the corner of his eye, his jaw clenched. A few seconds passed before he hoisted himself to his feet, and leaned against the wheel. "Do you?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes hardened, glinting in the darkness, but Emma could see the hurt behind them. You're quite the open book yourself, Hook.

Emma stood up as well, keeping her eyes level with his. Did she trust him?

Up until that moment, she had not come up with an answer. If she were truly honest with herself, she was afraid of the question, and everything it entailed. Every rational cell in her body told her to watch herself, keep those walls up. He was a pirate, one who had shown time and time again that the only team he was on was his own. And yet, when she had extended her hand, at Granny's, offering him the chance to be a part of something - she had meant every word. Whether she wanted to or not.

She let out a slow breath. "I do." He remained impassive, but she did not miss the slight loosening of his posture, nor did she miss the way his eyes bore into hers with something she was not yet willing to decipher. "It doesn't change the fact that for someone who's so intent on the whole trust issue, you do a truly crappy job of holding up your end of the deal." The sense of overwhelming desperation she had felt back in the mines, when she had opened the empty pouch, returned in full force. "You let us believe you were on our side, before taking the bean, jumping on your boat and leaving us to die." The worst part? She had almost been expecting it.

"Here's the thing, Hook," she continued, cutting off his attempt at an answer. "I get why you did it. I know what it feels like, to be within touching distance of something good, only to have it torn away from you. And it hurts like hell. So when these good things start happening, we do what we do best - we run."

Emma had not realized her hands were shaking until she felt her fingers tapping against her thighs. She clenched her fists before stuffing them into the pockets of her sweater. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and with a weary sigh, she sat back down. "I got sick of running, Hook." She studied his profile carefully, taking in the straight jaw, the thin scar on his right cheek. A three hundred year-old face, and it did not look a day over thirty. "I think you're starting to, as well."

"That's why I took up sailing, love." His reply came with a heavy dose of flippancy and a complimentary smirk - but his eyes, those damn eyes, were serious. He cocked an eyebrow. "You should give it a try."

She shook her head and gave his leg a shove. "You're insufferable."

All previous traces of humor disappeared from the captain's features, as he crouched beside her. "Swan. Look at me." He lifted her chin with his hook, the metal feeling dangerously cold on her skin. "You won't regret trusting me." His fingers closed around a lock of blond hair, and he gently tucked it behind her ear.

Her heartbeat quickened at their proximity. Damn it. Get a grip, Swan. This...reaction to the handsome captain was the last thing she needed. Yeah, he was good-looking. So what? She tore her gaze away from him and focused instead on something he said that had caught her attention.

"Do you still think that?" Seeing Hook's confused expression, Emma clarified her question. "You said 'the ends justify the means'. Do you still believe that?" She bit her lip, awaiting his reply, not really knowing what to expect. She never knew what to expect when it came to him.

He considered his response, his eyes never leaving hers. "Is there anything you wouldn't do for Henry?" he replied quietly, taking a seat by her side.

Nothing.The answer had been instantaneous. Emma swallowed, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "It isn't the same, Hook. You know it." Isn't it?

"Do I?" He leaned in closer, his blue eyes focused on her own green-tinted ones. "I believe when you love someone, you go to the ends of the world for them. When you want something, you bloody well fight for it. I'd like to point out that you, Emma Swan, were willing to let Regina die if it meant Henry would not have to grow up alone. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe there is no portal in the world you would not have gone through to get him back - nor is there anyone who could stand in your way."

No, there really was not. As silence reigned around them, Emma wondered briefly if he could hear her heart hammering against her chest. She willed it to slow down. Finally, Hook pulled back and dropped his gaze. "I'm not proud of things I have done in the past, wrongly thinking they would bring me happiness. I've come to realize revenge for Milah's death was not the path to finding peace. Helping you find Henry might be the first step in that direction." He absently rotated his hook, removing it from the leather stump, and screwing it back on again. "I want my life to mean something again, and I'll fight all the way to get there."

And there he was. She had seen glimpses before, but she had never seen the real deal - until now. In that moment, gone was the cocky, vengeful, leather-clad pirate captain with a quick tongue and a hardened shell. In his place, she found a man who had been knocked down by life more times than he cared to count, and yet always got up to struggle, to fight, to survive.

Hello, Killian Jones.

Without thinking, she rested her hand on his arm. "Thank you." For coming back. For choosing to be a part of something. For picking us. The words refused to come. "For offering us your help," she finished lamely. "I don't think, um -," she faltered when she met his electric stare, "any of us have thanked you properly."

After a pause, amusement etched itself into the young - old? - pirate's features as he lazily trailed his gaze from Emma's face to the spot where her hand rested on his sleeve. Emma hastily withdrew her fingers, and curled them into a tight fist. "If you really feel the need to thank me appropriately, Swan, I'm sure I could think of something," he winked, hardly suppressing a laugh as she glared at him in aggravation.

"Don't you ever stop?" she groaned.

"Swan, I shall not deign that with a reply. Which would have been 'why don't you see for yourself', in case you were curious."

She wanted nothing more than to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. Why, then, did her lips just quirk into a smile?

"Tell me about your lad."

Her eyebrows shot up. She had not been expecting that. "You want to know about Henry?"

"Your worry is keeping you up at night. You might as well channel it into something more positive." He gazed at her with inquisitive eyes.

"Henry..." She did not know what to say. Emma Swan was never much good with words. "Henry's the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me a home, a family. I've felt alone my entire life, until he came in and refused to budge, no matter how hard I pushed him away. Stubborn kid," she whispered affectionately. "He would actually have loved this - sailing a pirate ship to Neverland. He enjoyed it last time, with Neal."

"Baelfire taught Henry how to sail my ship?" a conflicted expression crossed the pirate's features. Emma did not have time to dwell on it as a wry smile instantly slipped in its place. "I doubt he would enjoy being on a ship with a villainous pirate. As far as he knows, I took the bean and left, practically killing all of you."

Emma shrugged. "You're leading us to him now, leaving your revenge behind. Not so heinous, is it?" For reasons which she refused to entertain, the idea of Henry resenting Hook did not sit well with her. "Besides, the kid grew up with Regina as a mom, not to mention Rumplestiltskin is his grandfather. As a villain, you have pretty high standards to live up to."

"Is that a challenge, Swan? I never back down from a challenge." A playful gleam appeared in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes and hid a smile, two things that seemed to go hand in hand in his presence. "Didn't you back down from the sword fight? Or did you simply lose to an inexperienced girl?" She goaded him, as she stood up.

The wicked grin her words elicited made her regret them instantly. "I'd wager you are far from inexperienced, Swan."

Ooh. Poor choice, Emma. You were begging for that one. She was suddenly relieved by the distance between them, sparing her the need to come up with a damn good excuse for the heat she was surely radiating. That's it. Time for bed.

"Hook -" She cut herself off. A wave of gratitude washed over her as she took in the teasing curve of his lips and his bright blue eyes. She had smiled more during their current conversation than she had the past few days combined. Laughing had felt good.

"Thank you." The words tumbled out of her before she could reconsider them.

He raised an eyebrow, and waved aside her gratitude. "You need to rest, love. You're repeating yourself."

Emma shook her head. "No. That's not what I meant." She fidgeted, and tried to hide the shaky breath that escaped her lips. "Thank you - for proving that I was right about you."

Hook's eyes - their shade of blue even more piercing in the moonlight - searched her face curiously. She held his gaze. "You came back. I can count the amount of people who did that on one hand." His eyes flickered in recognition.

"Emma..." His voice was low, without a hint of its usual teasing and snark. She attributed the shiver that ran down her spine to the cool night air.

Whatever he was about to say - wherever this was going - she was not ready. Not yet. "We should really get some sleep", she smiled tightly. "Good night, Hook."

She was two steps away from the stairs when she heard him. "They're fools." She froze. What?

"Those who left you behind. They're fools, Emma."

Twenty-eight years. That was how long she had waited for someone to say those words. "They didn't always have a choice," she whispered without turning around, but somehow he heard her.

"Don't go there, Emma", he warned her. "We both know you always have a choice."

She knew that. She also knew that meant those close to her - her parents, Neal, August - had chosen to abandon her. The reasons were more or less noble, but it did not change the fact that they had left her, and no amount of rationalizing could diminish that constant ache in her chest.

"Emma. Turn around."

She reluctantly complied, to find the striking captain rifling through his multiple pockets.

"I'm choosing", he tossed a small black object in her direction, which she caught between her fingers, "to never leave you at the top of a beanstalk. I'm not being a petulant, vindictive git, by the way. I'm just stating a fact."

It was the same pouch that had held the magic bean. She opened it to find a single gold coin, which she instantly recognized. "Is this..." She stared at him, her features a mixture of confusion and wonder. "Is this the coin you stole from the giant?"

Hook made a face. "Yes, though I wouldn't quite use to word steal."

Emma snorted. "Of course you wouldn't." She noted the way her voice shook, how her sarcasm lacked its usual bite.

If he caught it, he made no comment. "Pirates keep tokens of their...adventures, and with the magic bean gone, that little coin was my reminder of our visit to the giant." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Up on that beanstalk, you were brilliant - brave, smart. You're an amazing, fascinating woman, Emma Swan. Somehow, you don't seem to realize that. Keep the coin, and let it remind you that you're worth choosing."

He tapped his hook against the wheel. "I won't keep you up any longer." With those words, he wished her good night.

Emma's fingers tightened around the flat piece of gold, feeling the cool metal against her palm. As she stood in front of her cabin door, she released her grip on the coin, and inspected the angry, red marks the edges had left against her palm. She didn't mind.

Someone had chosen her, for once. The ache in her chest subsided. And for the first time in days, Emma laid her head on her pillow with a smile on her lips and peace in her mind.

A/N: This took me forever to write, and is completely different from my original idea (these two have a life of their own, I swear), so I hope it turned out alright and that they're not too out of character. Constructive criticism is ever so welcome!