A/n: I had been dying to write a fic where Hook gets injured in Neverland, and then I received some prompts that fit perfectly, so I decided to base my fic around these two prompts - "Killian and Emma fighting side by side in Neverland" by chasingforeverandaday and Waitingforyouinneverland's prompt for Killian getting injured while trying to save Henry in Neverland.

I hope you all enjoy it!

Emma stood in the small, empty clearing, eyes wide and frantic as she clutched Hook's sword in both hands, searching desperately for any sign of danger. The Lost Ones had scattered as soon as Gold and Regina had burst through the trees, colored sparks of magic flying every which way as Emma blindly swung the sword that Hook had tossed her mid-battle, but her body was still poised for a fight.

A sharp pain rang through her free arm, and she finally became vaguely aware of a warm trickle running down it from under her sleeve, staining the cloth a bright red. She had barely noticed the bite of the dagger during the skirmish, and even then, she had brushed it off as a scratch, but now, the slow but steady drip of the blood told her that it would at least need a thick bandage, if not a stitch or two.

Dammit.

Hook was going to just love this.

He'd been nagging her about teaching her to fight for weeks now. She was beginning to regret not taking him up on more of those lessons.

God knows he was right about her needing them, but she'd never tell him that.

"Take it, Lass!"

The weight of the weapon was heavy in her hand as she caught it, but she didn't have time to think about that as she was forced to raise it, narrowly deflecting a weakly-shot arrow with nothing other than pure, dumb luck and just a dash of instinct. She saw a look on his face that resembled being impressed, but she had no time to be smug. Her pulse was still racing, her entire body a frenzy of nerves at how close she had just come to death, and instead she found herself glancing around for the next sign of danger.

Emma looked back into the direction of where she had last seen the pirate captain and saw a pair of Lost Ones rushing towards him. How many of them were there out there? She felt a burst of fear when she realized that it was two against one and he was now weaponless.

"What about you?"

Hook merely grinned devilishly at her, a glint of excitement and just a bit of bloodlust in his eyes as he brandished his hook, deflecting the attack of one of the boys' daggers with such a force that it sent it flying into the dirt. "I'll be just fine, love," he shouted, his voice full of cockiness, hastening for the dagger and taking it into his good hand before another attacker could reach him.

Emma had but a moment to marvel at how in his element he appeared to be when the other Lost One reached them, and as he moved to block the attack, she felt like she just might be seeing a peek of the 'Captain Hook' that she had read about as a child. It was a little shocking to see Hook again after weeks of watching him peel away his layers until she almost allowed herself to believe that he might be the man he had originally introduced himself as - not just a pirate, not some villain, but a man named Killian Jones. The contrast was unsettling to say the least.

"Stay behind me!" He ordered loudly, and in an instant, Killian was back, the protectiveness in his tone giving him away. She immediately fell back a few steps, turning around so that her back was mere feet from his, both of them guarding the others' vulnerabilities.

"What now?"

"Bloody fight, Swan!"

Her breath came out in ragged gasps and the muscles in her shoulder and forearm were screaming from the weight of the weapon as she continued to scan the eerily quiet clearing. She had no idea how long she had been running or where she had run. All she knew is that they had taken Henry from her again.

She took a few more hesitant steps forward, but finally, the pain in her arm won out and she stabbed the tip of the sword firmly into the dirt, her muscles cramping and then slowly relaxing from their prior strain. She desperately scanned her surroundings again, hoping, begging for there to be some clue of where her son had been taken – there was nothing. He was gone.

Emma cursed loudly, blinking furiously, the sting of threatened tears burning the back of her eyes, frustration and anxiety and failure bubbling up inside of her as the seconds passed. Henry had been taken again and the last she had seen of her parents, they had disappeared further into the jungle as they battled the Lost Ones that had attacked them so suddenly. Regina and Gold had found them just in time, making most of them flee, unwilling to fight against blade and magic, but she hadn't been paying attention to them. She had only had eyes for her son being swept into the air by a boy barely bigger than he was with a strength that was near impossible, and now she had no idea where any of them were. The last person she remembered seeing was Hook, having run past him to follow the flying Lost One.

Hook.

Her chest tightened and did an impromptu flip-flop, followed by the jolt of a sharp pang of guilt.

Where was Hook?

He had trusted her to watch his back. He had given her his sword, leaving himself with a puny dagger and his hook against the Lost Ones and she had just left him. Again. The logical part of her brain told her that she hadn't had a choice. Hook with a dagger and his metal appendage of choice was easily more dangerous than she was with a sword and she knew that he couldn't have expected her to stay there with him when her son was so close. Had he noticed, he probably would have encouraged her to go himself, but she also knew that the quiet yet nagging tug at her conscience would never go away if it had cost him his life. She was the Savior after all. Her begrudgingly accepted title had unfortunately loaded a healthy serving of guilt and an unnecessary sense of responsibility that she couldn't seem to shake. He had given them everything that day that he had offered them his ship and essentially his life until Henry was found, and even though he seemed to feel it was himself repaying some sort of debt, but she was often the one that often felt in debt to the pirate.

Emma took another few steps forward and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse as she realized just how far away from their clearing she must have run when she had heard Henry's voice.

She grasped Hook's sword once again, ignoring the ache of protest in her arm, and began to walk cautiously back in the direction that she thought she had originally come from.

"Hook?"

Everything looked the same and the silence of the jungle refused to give her even a hint at which direction she should head first. Not even the distant clash of weapons or a shout could be heard. Her pace increased from a brisk walk to a jog, then a pace close to a full run, panic clutching at her heart like a fist as she bounded through the trees in the path that seemed right– though she had no way to be sure.

She was not lost in Neverland.

"Hook!" She yelled his name again, only greeted by the flap of wings of disturbed Neverland birds. Emma stopped, taking a few heaving breaths and swallowing hard as the seriousness of the situation began to fully sink in and pleas to no one in particular started to swirl around her mind.

Please let Henry be okay. Please let Mary Margaret and David be okay too. Please don't let Hook be dead. Please help me find them. Please don't let me have gotten this far just to die in fucking quicksand or getting eaten by a damned tiger or whatever the hell Hook is always warning me about.

Swords and hook clashed loudly as the ambush of teenagers continued their vicious attacks, arrows occasionally flying haphazardly around them from the trees, the silver of long blades and daggers flashing. Emma could hear the vague sounds of metal hitting metal across the clearing as Snow and Charming fought in a similar position, their backs to each other, leaving neither exposed, able to focus on fighting off the small group of boys.

The fighting seemed to last for hours, though it was probably only minutes. Her arm was beginning to ache and droop with each thrust and parry, and her stomach turned whenever her blade sliced into flesh – rare as it was. But she refused to lose hope, pushing herself to continue to swing the heavy weapon with even more vigor each time one of the teenagers rushed at her, hoping that the pure amount of force she was doling out would compensate for her lack of skill.

"Good form, Lass!"

Hook's ragged voice encouraged her at her back, even though she was sure that from his position he couldn't see her to be able to tell if she was doing well or if she was just plain lucky. It was as if he knew that she was tiring from the sounds of her blade's last strike and could use the praise – though based on the fact that she was currently still alive, she thought that she was doing quite well for herself regardless. Emma started to smile the smallest of grim and determined smiles to herself, remembering their first sword fight and how the tables had been turned between them when he had first uttered those words.

"You're not so bad yourself," she called, finding that the banter helped her focus on the fight rather than the growing pain in her arm and the terrifying idea that she would tire before the Lost Ones with their daggers and bows would cease their attack.

"Mom!"

A small voice snapped her out of her trance-like state of fighting. Her eyes widened and her sword dropped to her side just in time to feel the bite of jagged metal carving a shallow cut into her arm, but she barely acknowledged it. She swung her body to the left to see her son running towards her, loose ropes hanging around his arms, and she could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat - but just as swiftly a Lost One flew towards him, scooping him up into the air without landing. The sharp clink of hook hitting dagger - that she assumed was Hook fighting off her attacker – played somewhere in the back of her mind, but she couldn't control her knee-jerk reaction to move towards her son's voice despite the danger around her.

"Henry! No!" She screamed, but the abductor only laughed, watching her with an evil sort of playfulness dancing in his eyes as he flew back and forth across the clearing, taunting her for a moment and then disappearing into the dense forest as quickly as he had flew into the clearing.

Before she could react, a burst of red light shot past them, and another boy that had been rushing in their direction was thrown back, hitting the trunk of a tree behind him, a sickening crunch of bones accompanying it. Emma only glanced in the direction of Regina and Gold for a split second before sprinting towards the Lost One carrying her son.

She couldn't let him get away again.

"Hook?" She slowed her run again, glancing around in every direction around her, senses tingling, waiting for a new danger to greet her at any second. Her lungs were burning and she was sure she must have gone almost as far as she had run the first time. "Jones!" She tried a second time, uttering the name that felt both unfamiliar and familiar on her tongue, hoping that if he were injured, hearing his name would get enough of a reaction out of him to answer.

She waited ten seconds, straining to hear something. Anything.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty.

"Emma!"

Just as she had been preparing to shout again, her mother's voice snapped her out of her fog of fear and confusion.

"Mom?" The word caught in her throat, resulting in it sounding broken and vulnerable and far too quiet to have been heard. Her heart pounded and her stomach clenched at the thought that her mother could also have been hurt. "Mom!"

No, no, no. Please let her be alright.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

"Emma! We're over here!"

We? Emma quickened her pace again, following her mother's voice until she came to another small clearing surrounded by a thick circle of strange, Neverland trees. Finally, she could make out the figures of her mother and Hook, his black, long-sleeved shirt and the silver glint of his hook giving him away. Several yards away from them, a dead body was strewn across the forest floor, an arrow protruding from his back – courtesy of Snow, Emma assumed, based off the bow that was now fixed to the pack she wore.

"Oh my god." She rushed towards the pair in the distance and dropped to a knee where Mary Margaret was kneeling in the dirt, crouched over Hook's pale, still figure that was crumpled painfully against a tree trunk. "Hook."

"There you are, love," he gasped softly, his mouth curving into a gentle smile of relief that was creased with pain.

"Emma, thank God." Her mother immediately wrapped her arms around her in a bear hug that nearly toppled her over – one of the few real 'bear hugs' that Emma could remember having received – arms tightening until she felt like she couldn't breathe. "For a minute I thought…"

"I know." She nodded against her mother's shoulder, then gently releasing herself from the hug. She had thought she had lost them too. Emma felt her throat tighten at the thought that Henry was still out there, but instead she pushed the thought away and forced herself to deal with the situation at hand. Hook. "God, Hook…" she shook her head, pursing her lips together. "What happened?"

Her eyes traveled to the arrow that was buried deeply into Hook's shoulder as her stomach did another uncomfortable flip-flop that she told herself was a purely platonic worry and nothing more. It was just an arrow to the arm after all. He'd be fine. He'd be in a hell of a lot of pain, but people survived things like this before the days of technology and antibiotics and fancy hospitals, right? He'd be fine.

"He's hurt. He'll be alright if we can get him back to the ship, but- Emma, your arm…"

Emma's hand went to her bloody sleeve, having entirely forgotten about it. The bleeding had slowed and it wasn't deep enough to cause any serious blood-loss, but now that her heart had stopped beating so quickly and she wasn't alone, the dull ache was building into an increasingly painful sting. "It's fine," she insisted, "just a cut. We can take care of it when we get back. What about everyone else? Are they…"

"Your father and I got separated." An entirely new type of worried look invaded Mary Margaret's expression that Emma was sure was reserved for David alone as she swallowed thickly. "I'm sure he's fine. Regina and Gold were with him," she nodded her head firmly, determination in her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the injured pirate in front of her. "I didn't even know Hook was behind me. I could have been hit by that arrow if he hadn't pushed me out of the way…"

"You saved her."

She hadn't meant for the statement to sound so close to a question, but she was still getting used to the idea that Captain Hook was someone that she could really and truly trust. It wasn't the first time that he had saved her life in Neverland, though it wasn't exactly a difficult feat when she had nowhere near his experience with the dark paradise of an island and something as simple as eating the wrong plant could be her undoing, but now he was actually putting himself in direct danger for them…

"I shouted a warning, gave her a bit of a shove," Hook answered weakly and shrugged without considering his wound, wincing sharply, scrunching his eyes closed and grinding his teeth together keep from groaning.

Emma furrowed her brow as she looked at the wounded pirate before her and felt her chest tighten slightly with an emotion that she couldn't quite place. Relief? Gratefulness? Confusion? …Attraction? Some strange combination of them all? The idea that he seemed to genuinely care about what happened to them, even above his own well-being, continually surprised and impressed her as he unknowingly continued to chip away at her insecurities and doubts about him every day that they were in Neverland and replacing the empty spots that remained with small seeds of friendship and trust.

"Hook…" It was all she could think of to say, unsure how to put feelings she didn't understand herself into words she was willing to share with him – especially not in front of her mother.

"What choice did I have? You or your father would have had my head had I…"

His breathy voice trailed off and Emma's heart jumped into her throat when his eyes fluttered shut. She grabbed onto his good shoulder, shaking him roughly until they opened again. "Hook? Hook, stay with me, okay? Look at me." His eyes flickered back open, looking glazed over, the blue slightly less vibrant than normal. "You alright?"

"Oh, I'm wonderful, love… This is positively org-asmic," he moaned, the last syllables of the word coming out in a sharp, pained cry when Mary Margaret's gentle fingers nudged the arrow embedded deeply in his shoulder, his facade breaking and his expression giving way to the full pain that he was in. "Gods!" He growled, gritting his teeth hard and clenching his fist in the dirt. "Stop!"

"I'm just trying to see how deep it is," she murmured comfortingly, her fingers moving from the arrow and sneaking underneath his vest around the back of his injured shoulder, pressing lightly, immediately feeling the tip of the arrow an inch or two beneath the flesh, and grimacing as he hissed and grit his teeth together. "Sorry."

Emma hovered over Hook, beginning to feel sick to her stomach at the sight of the protruding arrow, blood soaking his dark shirt slowly. "Can we take it out? Should we?" She knew the arrow was keeping most of the heavy bleeding from occurring, but they were miles from the Jolly Roger and she wasn't sure at what point having an unsanitary arrow embedded in his shoulder while his body went into shock would be just as detrimental as possible blood loss.

Mary Margaret frowned and pursed her lips, glancing at Emma for a moment and then going back to the arrow. "I don't think so. It's too deep. These arrows don't have wooden tips, it's a rock arrowhead. It'll tear through too much muscle or-or even get caught on bone if we try to pull it back."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?"

There was a short, pregnant pause as Emma glanced back and forth between her mother and Hook's ever-paling face.

"Just get it over with," Hook groaned, closing his eyes again and leaning the back of his head against the tree behind him as his vision began to swim, the beginnings of shock making him shiver. "Push it through."

Emma's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Do you see any other bloody way to get it out without ripping my whole damned arm off? … Just do it."

"He's right," Mary Margaret agreed solemnly with a nod. "But we should wait. We can help him back to the ship. Regina or Gold could-"

"We don't have time."

Emma's eyes narrowed at the pirate. "What do you mean we don't have time?"

"The queen and the crocodile are who knows how far away, and the Lost Ones often deal in poisons. The longer it stays in me, the more of it gets into my blood."

Emma felt her stomach drop yet again. Poison? 'He could die' played over and over in her consciousness, and a strange fear - not only because he was one of their most important resources in finding Henry, but because she found herself actually caring about his wellbeing - made her pulse quicken. "How would you know if it's poisoned?"

"Neverland holds a wide variety of options. I could feel nothing at all until it's too late," he sighed breathily, his head lolling to the side for a moment until he weakly moved to lift it. "Now please… Stop prolonging my agony."

Mary Margaret swiveled her gaze to meet Emma's as she wordlessly asked her opinion on the matter – something that surprised Emma. She didn't know a damn thing about Neverland first aid. The extent of her medicinal knowledge pretty much stopped at using things like bandaids and Tylenol minus anything that she could guess from her years of watching television, but it wasn't anything she planned on betting anyone's life on.

Without waiting for them to make up their minds, Hook began to sit himself up straighter, managing to remain quiet except for a muffled grunt.

"Are you sure?"

He closed his eyes and simply lifted his good hand a few inches off of his lap and turned it over, holding it out into the open air. Emma hesitated, staring at it for a moment, not quite sure what he expected. It was only when she heard him say 'take it, love' and saw him swallow hard that she realized that he wanted her to hold his hand. She nodded in quick agreement and grasped it with a gentle firmness, their fingers interlocking. She used her other hand to brace him against the tree trunk. Emma glanced back at her mother, who was moving around to the back of Hook's shoulder, moving his vest out of the way and using a small dagger to cut a clean line in his shirt where the arrow would soon break through the smooth skin.

"Rum," Hook mumbled, and Emma couldn't help but notice the sweat beading on his forehead and neck, or how his breaths were coming in quicker, pained bursts than they had been before. "Right, inside pocket."

Mary Margaret nodded, reaching for the flask and quickly uncorking it. "This is going to hurt."

"Bloody waste."

The next few minutes passed Emma in a blur similar to the stress-induced haziness that had clouded her mind during the swordfight, everything happening so quickly yet so slowly at the same time as her mind was once again on Hook's wellbeing. The splash of alcohol hitting his shoulder making his hand tighten around hers, the look from her mother as Snow grasped the arrow and braced herself to push – hand shaking slightly as she took a deep breath, followed by strangled screams that sent chills down Emma's spine while he gripped her hand so hard she thought the thin bones in it just might crack as he desperately tried to hold it together. She hardly remembered whispering the (quite possibly too intimate sounding) sweet nothings about how he was doing so great and that he was going to be alright that she hadn't meant to come out or running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and worrying about how hot his skin felt beneath her fingers because poison couldn't work that quickly could it?

Hook's cries turned into wheezing, moaned out gasps that sounded dangerously close to held-back sobs once the arrow was through, and Emma only felt her heartbeat begin to slow once her mother was able to break the head of the arrow off and gently pull it out, tossing the bloody bit of wood into the dirt.

Her relief was short-lived when his whole body shuddered and his eyes rolled back into his head.

~ASMG~

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Luckily for him, it appears that we got to the poison in time," Rumple replied, and Emma chose to ignore the fact that the older man sounded almost regretful. "Now it's just a matter of the wound itself. It should be entirely healed in two weeks' time, but for now, I've given him a minor spell for the pain."

"Can't you heal it now? Like you did with Belle?"

"If you haven't noticed, dearie, Hook is not my true love," he growled bitterly. "It would not be as simple, nor would I want to expend the energy to entirely heal the wound when we could be attacked again at any moment. No need for worry, Ms. Swan, our fine Captain will be back to himself in no time," he added with a slight roll of his eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

He walked past her brusquely, clearly not thrilled with having just saved Hook's life. When they had finally managed to drag him back to the rowboat on the beach and arrived at the ship – probably the most terrifying and exhausting two mile trek that she had ever gone on – Emma had seen the chillingly cold look on Gold's face and even been worried that he wouldn't help him at all, but he had… unhappily as it was.

She shook her head, banishing thoughts of Gold from her head and curving her hand delicately around the doorknob of his cabin door as if worried about disturbing him, turning it slowly and pushing it open. There was no reason to feel so goddamned nervous. It wasn't like she hadn't been in his quarters before. But this was the first time she had come into his cabin just to see him and not for 'strictly Neverland business' as she put it whenever he offered her a drink or shot an innuendo her way when she found herself perusing one of his many maps that he kept in his desk. Let's just say navigation wasn't the only thing he had suggested they use his desk for.

"Well, are you just going to stand in the doorway, or are you going to come in, love?"

"Hey."

She found herself truly taking in the details of the bedroom for the first time as she walked in. The small lantern hanging by the doorway to her left, the eloquent looking bureau with strange, intricate carvings to her right, the assorted maps and even the occasional drawings pinned neatly to his walls... The room was only dimly lit by a candle burning on his nightstand, but she could see Hook's figure propped up against the elaborate, lacy pillows on his bed, the thick, red cover with trim that matched the pillows was draped loosely over his lap. God, it was worse than some teenage girl's beds, she thought as she heeded his beckoning hand.

"How're you feeling?"

"One of my heroes come to rescue me from the Dark One. Thanks the gods," he commented jokingly. His eyes followed her as she moved closer until she was sitting on his bed beside them, and a pleased smile teased at the corners of his mouth when her hand moved to cover his good one.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know."

"As I've said before, darling… if there's one thing I excel at, it's surviving," he countered with an impish grin.

"Too bad it's such a wasted talent."

He quirked his eyebrows upwards playfully in mock surprise. "Careful, love, or a man might mistake that irrefutable penchant for sarcasm as you being worried about me."

Even injured he managed to be a pain in her ass. "For a half-dead guy that's good at surviving, you sure seem to look for reasons for people to kill you."

"I never try, Darling, death just seems to follow me... probably for the best," he muttered as an afterthought.

There was a long pause and Emma suddenly became aware of his fingers moving over hers in soft circles, the faraway look in his eyes telling her he might not even realize what he was doing. Emma pulled her hand away lightly and rubbed her temple. "God, you're so fucking stupid sometimes," the words spilled out in a cross between a groan and a sigh.

He snapped out of his thoughts and cocked his head to the side, searching her eyes, puzzled but amused. "Quite crass, Swan. I always knew that you'd make a good pirate," he smirked, sitting up slightly straighter, testing the pain in his shoulder before straightening a bit more. "Any particular reason for this outburst, or do you just enjoy making brazen accusations to the battered without cause?" The twinkle of mischief in his eyes - now back to their previous vibrancy, she was oddly pleased to notice – only added to her budding irritation.

"Do you really think your life is worth that little, Hook?" For a man who said he wanted to survive so badly, for someone who fought so hard to stay alive, he put himself in a lot of dangerous situations and took too many reckless risks - most of them lately involving keeping her safe. Throwing her his sword?

Hook deadpanned, his previous amusement washing away. "There's been little in my life that I would note as worthy."

"You just- You almost died! You can't just keep-"

"I can't keep what?"

"I appreciate all that you're doing for us, but I don't want to feel responsible if-" She had never felt more incoherent in her life. She wouldn't have preferred that he hadn't practically stepped in front of the arrow and left her mother to die, but at the same time – what the hell was wrong with him? Suddenly, she noticed that he was grinning at her like an idiot, his face completely relaxed and free of pain. "What?"

"Did the arrow hit you or me, Lass? I'm starting to wonder," he chuckled, biting at his bottom lip playfully.

"What?"

"The old legend? Of Cupid and his arrow? Maybe we've got it wrong, because it seems that my injury seems to have brought out quite the emotion in you."

"You're delirious," she rolled her eyes, shrugging the obnoxious comment off and just like that, the lighthearted vibe that often surrounded their conversations was back. Good. It felt a hell of a lot better than it did to be stumbling over her words and emotions like some lovestruck teenager.

"Maybe," he smirked, a goofy grin that mirrored the one he had worn at the hospital after his accident dancing on his scruffy face. "I must say, you're quite a sight when you're angry with me, love."

"Whatever Gold's magic did to you, you're losing it," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. He may not have been drugged up, but it was easier to blame that grin on magic and not what he actually seemed to be high on.

Just when she was considering reaching out to touch his hand again, he spoke.

"I'd throw you my sword again in a second, Emma. I'd step in front of a hundred arrow if it meant keeping my vow and saving your boy."

After a short moment of staring at his uncomfortably genuine expression, Emma shook her head and dropped her arms to her side, standing up. "You should get some rest."

"So should you. The bed is quite large..."

She deadpanned. God, his nerve knew no bounds – but his confidence wasn't exactly an unattractive quality. It wasn't enough for her to jump into bed with him, for innocent means or not, and she couldn't just let him get away with making suggestions like that. "Seriously, Hook?"

"I dare say we've crossed the lines of intimacy involved in sharing a bed, seeing as one of us has had their fingers inside of the other today," his grin showed a devilish flash of white "though, I admit it wasn't quite the scenario that I originally imagined…"

"Okay," she put her hands up in mock surrender with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, not particularly wanting to remember what she'd had to do to try and stave off the bleeding during their trip through the jungle. "Clearly you're fine, so… I'm leaving." The corners of her mouth turned up into a soft smile despite herself as she turned to go, not surprised one bit when his weak but smooth voice followed her.

"Go on, Lass. Run away from Cupid's charms. You'll be back."

She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raised skeptically. "Cupid has nothing to do with this, Hook."

"Just keep telling yourself that, love."

"I'll see you in the morning, Hook," she replied, and realized with a start that it was the first time since his injury that afternoon that she wasn't worried that she might not.

"Until the morning then, Lass."

Emma's heart fluttered uncomfortably at the warmth in his voice as if he were truly looking forward to it, and with that, she forced herself to turn the knob and step out of his room, eager to be rid of the new and terrifying feelings that were beginning to form as she shook her head to herself.

Cupid's arrow my ass.

The End

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