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cosette141 · 2 years

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Begin Again (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 3

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Captain Swan

Words: 5.7k (this chapter) | 13k+ (full story/ongoing)

Summary: (s2 "Manhattan" divergence) No one breaks a deal with Rumplestiltskin, and Emma finds herself facing the wrath of the Dark One. What if Neal didn't come back for Emma in NYC, but instead, Hook showed up to kill Rumplestiltskin early? No one has ever saved Emma before, and Hook has never been able to save anyone at all. It's time for them both to tell a different story. Together. CS

Chp 1: AO3 | tumblr

Chp 2: AO3 | tumblr

Chp 3: AO3

Chapter 3

-.-.

Emma woke slowly.

As she came to, everything seemed to radiate pain. There was a steady, sharp throbbing in her head, something that even semi-conscious she recognized as a concussion. A fire burned in her ribs, screaming of broken bones. Deep bruises and the sting of cuts radiated everywhere else, covering her like the dust on something forgotten.

As reality crept in, Emma tried to remember what happened to cause so much pain, when it hit her.

New York.

The apartment.

“Tell me or I’m gonna make you tell me.”

Gold.

Panic seized her.

She remembered the argument, her fear, then—

Pain.

The hits kept coming; she couldn’t stop him—

—at some point he struck her head, everything became fuzzy after that—

—she was on the floor, there was so much pain—

Suddenly she felt someone touching her face.

Old instincts flooded in.

Get out, fight, RUN—

Emma’s heart ran into overdrive, her eyes snapping open, terrified to see herself still curled up in the corner of that dingy apartment, at the mercy of Gold’s cane, every single part of her coiled and ready to run. She jerked up, only for a fire to ignite in her middle.

But a pair of strong arms caught her before she could fall.

Panic stole her breath, and she was nearly about to fight them, when something inside her made her stop.

These arms, this embrace, it felt…

Familiar.

Breathing hard, every breath making her ribs twinge with sharp pain, she blinked her eyes open through a wince. Confusion was still coursing through her, her mind whirring with panic, but her body had surrendered the fight. Somehow, the hold felt safe.

As she calmed, she felt herself lowered gently to something that felt like pillows. Simply the daylight shining into the room hurt. Her head killed, and having moved so sharply erupted a wall of vertigo. Her eyes screwed shut again, and she let the arms guide her, that strange sort of peace preventing every knee jerk reaction programmed from the foster homes.

And distantly, she recognized what that peace was.

Trust.

Slowly, the dizziness subsided somewhat, and Emma looked up.

Her vision slowly adjusted, and instead of the apartment and the demon she'd been afraid to see, she found herself staring into Hook’s startled blue eyes.

“Easy,” he said breathlessly. He was sitting at the edge of what appeared to be a bed she was laying on. “Easy, love,” came his voice again, soft and gentle. “You’re safe.”

Waking up in pain, to Hook, was startling itself, as the last time she remembered seeing him was when he was in the hospital after the car accident. Their last exchange wasn’t exactly civil. Ever since the beanstalk… they’d practically been fighting on opposite sides.

But something about his voice, something about the look in his eyes, something about him still kept her from running.

Nothing in her entire life has ever been able to keep her from running.

She still didn’t know where she was, how she got here, or why she was with Hook of all people. But somehow, she didn’t even need her superpower; every fiber in her body knew that his claim that she was safe was true.

Her eyes found Hook’s, her gaze settling there uncertainly, even as panic still rode her veins.

“You’re safe,” he repeated, like he could feel her panic, a little reassuring smile at the corners of his lips, but it didn’t hide his concern.

“H-Hook?” whispered Emma, when she could find her voice. “What..?”

Why was she with—?

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, a tortured sort of pain in his eyes. “You don’t remember…?” he trailed off, looking like he wasn’t keen on refreshing her memory.

More like he’d rather die than refresh her memory.

“Gold…” whispered Emma, mind racing to fill in the missing pieces in her pounding head. “He…” Her voice caught, remembering that part all too clearly. She winced, trying to recall what happened next through the pain wracking her skull.

“He’s gone,” said Hook softly, firmly, making Emma feel her chest ease with the knowledge. And from the look on Hook’s face, the words were a relief to him as much as they were to Emma.

Emma felt it wash through her like cool water, Hook’s words triggering the rest of the memory, fuzzy but there.

Through the dazed memory, she remembered seeing Gold lying motionless on the ground, Hook’s namesake buried firmly in the man’s—the demon’s—chest.

“Is he…?”

“Dead? Very.”

Emma’s eyes found Hook’s, feeling something like shock.

Hook had killed him.

After the blow to her head, all she remembered was pain.

But… blearily, she remembered that the pain had stopped. The hits had stopped coming. Something had stopped Gold.

Hook.

He’d stopped him.

He saved her.

Hook had saved her life.

Hook.

Emma blinked.

And suddenly, the rest of that hazy memory came back, making her tense all over again, for she realized why his embrace earlier felt so familiar.

She’d somehow ended up in Hook’s arms.

She could practically still feel how he held her, his hand over her hair, his whispers of gentle reassurances as she cried into his chest.

Something shifted inside her chest, a raw uncertainty as she recalled just how much she’d broken, how much weakness she’d shown.

She had never, not once, broken down like that in front of someone before.

Vulnerability coursed through her, but for some reason, it didn’t scare her like it normally would have.

Because Hook’s embrace…

It felt so…

Safe.

For some reason, it felt safe around him.

She had never felt safe like that before.

“Don’t leave.”

“I promise you, Emma. I am not going anywhere.”

Her eyes found him again, looking at him as if through a new light.

Because he was still…

…here.

Everyone left her.

Everyone always leaves her.

But here he was, watching her, so openly worried, looking at her like she mattered.

“You saved me,” whispered Emma, so quietly she didn’t even know if he heard her.

It was more her realization that slipped out, something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Someone saved her.

And more than that…

He stayed.

Hook did hear her words, and something jumped into his eyes. A sort of feeling she’s never seen from him before.

But it seemed to make him uncomfortable. Swallowing, a muscle ticking in his jaw, he said, “I’m… Emma, I’m just relieved you're all right.”

Vulnerability trickled through her like feeling after numbness, uncomfortable and sharp, and Emma tried to push herself up. But even that little movement made her head swim violently again. She shut her eyes, feeling his hand gently on her shoulder, guiding her gently back to the pillows.

“Easy, love,” he said quietly, something clouding his eyes. “You’re hurt.” Those words seemed to physically pain him, a tortured look slipping into his eyes, darkening the blue. She acquiesced, eyes screwed shut until the world stopped spinning.

“Where am I?” mumbled Emma, trying to will away the nausea.

“Ah—my ship,” said Hook, a little uncomfortably, like he thought she wouldn’t be happy with the knowledge. “I… I thought I’d give you passage back to your home,” he said quickly, and he almost looked nervous to say the words.

Emma just blinked.

She remembered nothing after… after clinging to him in that apartment.

He carried her here?

She was stunned to silence for a moment at the gesture.

Her eyes suddenly widened, realizing something else she forgot.

Someone else.

“Henry!” she gasped, jerking upright again just to groan, wrapping an arm tenderly around herself.

“Swan—!”

She felt his hand push her gently back down again, and her eyes screwed shut again, everything hurting, the world spinning so fast she felt sick. “Your lad is just fine,” he said, a little exasperated, his hand hovering over her as if afraid she’d try to bolt again. “He’s captaining the ship at the moment.”

Emma blinked her eyes open through a wince. “He’s what?”

Hook smiled a little at her disbelief. “No need to worry, Swan. He’s a natural. Besides, my ship’s enchanted. She knows where she’s going.”

“But he’s okay?” she asked.

Almost as if on cue, they heard the faint echo of Henry’s little voice shouting, “Ahoy!”, among a few other sailing phrases.

Emma felt herself smile with relief, hearing him both safe as well as happy.

But what surprised her the most was the look on Hook’s face, eyes on the door, a sort of genuine emotion, something between amusement and fondness, softening his features.

Emma watched him for a moment, stunned at the sheer difference of it, from the man she met in the Enchanted Forest.

And just as suddenly, Emma remembered the sound of his voice from the apartment. The way he held her.

It felt like she’d met two versions of the same person.

The first one was mysterious, cunning and downright irritating.

This one, however…

This one felt like him.

He turned back to her, and Emma was glad he didn’t seem to notice her studying him.

The softness in his face faded to that tortured sort of sadness that she was beginning to hate seeing on him.

She never thought she’d wish to hear another stupid innuendo.

But seeing that brokenness…

It felt too familiar to pain of her own.

He picked something up, and Emma recognized it as a rag. It was stained red. A furrow in his brow, he moved toward her temple, where the pain was throbbing at its worst. But he stopped, seeming to sense her hesitance. “May I?” he asked softly.

Emma blinked.

“Give me your hand.”

He’d tended to a wound of hers before, on the beanstalk.

Back then, there was a spark in his eyes, cunning in his smile and innuendo on his tongue.

None of that was here now.

Now, he was waiting patiently for her consent, respecting her walls, her fear.

Back then it was perhaps a move.

But today, it was simply a desire to heal her pain.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, the something she felt in her chest now, as she looked at him.

But before her mind could think of words to say, she felt her head nod slightly, something inside her making the decision for her, despite the pain the movement caused.

He smiled then, something quick and small.

And gently, he tended to the gash at her hairline, with a softness she’d never imagine him to possess.

He touched her with that sort of delicacy, like he was both afraid of breaking her, and like he thought she was worth the extra care.

Like she was worth something.

She hissed a little when his touch moved to a tender spot. His face was only inches away, and she saw pain jump into his eyes the moment she made noise.

Their eyes met, and his hand quickly moved to her cheek, like a soft reflex.

His eyes snapped to hers, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment, caught there in a moment Emma couldn’t have broken if she tried.

But a moment later, he snapped out of it, pulling away his hand and moving away.

Emma hesitated.

That reflex felt like something he’d done before, for someone he’d cared for.

That was the kind of reflex that would only awaken if…

She shook herself a little.

A slight silence spread between them, and it felt tight with something… unsaid.

But before Emma could attempt to shatter it, he did.

“Bloody hell, love,” he said softly, words pained and just a little exasperated. “What were you doing there with the Crocodile?”

Emma looked up. From the look on his face, it seemed as though it was a question he’d been sitting on for ages and couldn’t even come up with a guess.

Emma hesitated.

There were a few reasons that had convinced her to go to New York, one of which being that Cora and Regina seemed to be more of a threat to Henry than Gold. Though, how wrong she was to think that.

Another was the fact that she did make a deal with him—though it wasn’t exactly fair, since she had no idea the dangerous implications it had way back before the curse broke.

Yet, both of those reasons still had “No,” on the tip of her tongue, ready to slam the door back in Gold’s face when he’d asked.

However…

“It has to be today, because every minute I’m here is a minute I’m closer to killing Hook.”

The threat to Hook had made her pause.

Maybe it was because the first two reasons didn’t seem quite as… imminent. At the time, she didn’t exactly know what happened to people who broke deals with Gold, and if Emma was truly afraid Cora would do something to Henry she would have driven him out of Storybrooke herself long before, without any prompting from Gold.

But the threat to Hook was a real, solid, black-and-white threat that Emma knew Gold would have done in a heartbeat. Emma hadn’t made the doctors hide Hook from him in the hospital for nothing.

Gold was going to try to kill him, and for whatever reason, a reason that kept cropping up inside her little by little until she could no longer ignore it…

…she found that the idea of something happening to Hook wasn’t something she could exactly… risk.

At that moment, she’d agreed to go, telling herself that she’s the sheriff, and the sheriff protects people from being killed, even if they were insufferable ego maniacs with incredibly unfair amounts of charm.

But she couldn’t help flashing back to the apartment, to the moment that Gold had shattered her, physically, emotionally, completely.

When she broke down, Hook hadn’t even hesitated.

He’d grabbed her, firm but gentle, in an embrace that made her feel like something so… important.

Like somehow, her safety wasn’t something he could risk, either.

Emma found her eyes back on him, where he was still waiting for her response. And from the look in his eyes, something told her he’d been sitting on the question for ages.

“I… I made a deal with him,” she mumbled, settling for part of what had brought her to New York.

Hook’s eyes widened a fraction. “You—“ he began.

“It was before I knew he was… Rumplestiltskin, and before I even knew fairytales weren’t… fairytales.” Emma winced. “I owed him and he wanted me to pay up and help him find his—“

Emma’s throat closed suddenly.

Neal.

She froze, the shock washing over her all over again.

Pain worse than the broken bones seized her chest, and for half a second she couldn’t breathe.

“Swan…?”

Hook’s concerned voice pulled her from the paralysis, and her eyes met his. She shook herself, tumbling out the words. “He wanted me to find his son and I… did.” Shutting her eyes, her fingers fisting in the blanket, she continued, “But I…”

“Just tell him I got away, and you never have to see me again.”

Emma’s eyes shutting, she said, “I… let him get away.” Her eyes opened, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze above the blanket. “I told Gold I didn’t find him and he knew I was lying, and then… he…” Her voice caught with a rare sort of weakness that she normally never showed anyone. But the words were tumbling out faster than she could stop them, and for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong to say them.

Not to the man watching her with an increasingly tortured look in eyes.

The same one who held her.

Saved her.

Because no one, not one person, has ever saved her before.

“I… I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered. “He was just so… so different all of a sudden, and I couldn’t… I…” Her voice caught again, her chest tightening with the fear from that moment.

A hand fell gently, carefully on her knee, and Emma’s eyes opened to see Hook looking like he was in physical pain.

“I… I’ve never been that scared before,” admitted Emma in a whisper, the honesty so raw. It stunned her to hear herself say the words aloud. She’s never, ever been that open with anyone.

Anyone.

But something about Hook, the memory of his embrace, the way his thumb was either consciously or unconsciously caressing her knee in an attempt to comfort her, simply the way he looked at her, like she mattered…

“Love,” said Hook after a moment, his voice rough and worn, like it had fought a thousand battles and lost. He shook his head a little, like he couldn’t understand something. “You said you found his son,” he said slowly. “Why lie?”

Emma shut her eyes, suddenly wishing she hadn’t.

Keeping Neal from Henry wasn’t worth what happened to her.

She’d jumped from one horrible fear to another.

Emma took a shuddering breath. “I… um…” She shut her eyes, the emotions overwhelming. She opened her eyes. Her voice dipping into something cracked and broken, she whispered, “I knew him.” Her eyes burned even hotter than when she’d told Snow.

Emma had never once thought she’d see Hook anything less than sly and cunning, and she certainly never thought she’d see him gape.

He looked almost as stunned as she’d felt when she found out.

After a moment, he managed to find his voice. “Baelfire?” he breathed incredulously. “You knew him? How?”

“I had no idea he was… ‘Baelfire’,” said Emma, stumbling a little over Neal’s true name. “He… when I met him, it was in this world, and he went by the name N-Neal.” Her voice choked a little on his name. Breathing out, trying to control the emotions, she said, “I hadn’t seen him in eleven years. Since…” The burning was back, and Emma shut her eyes.

A long silence stretched, until…

“Eleven,” said Hook softly, voice distant from a racing mind. Emma opened her eyes, seeing his eyes flick toward the cabin door, and back to Emma, something darkening his gaze. The question was in his eyes, but he didn’t seem able to bring himself to ask it. From the shock in his eyes, he already knew the answer.

Slowly, she nodded, and the burning in her eyes intensified.

An unreadable emotion clouded Hook’s eyes, but his attention was drawn to her own reaction to the words. He seemed to tear himself from the shock. Hook’s voice dipped into something even softer, yet backed with a sort of protective anger as if he knew he wouldn’t like the answer, he asked tightly, “What happened?”

And for a moment it stunned her, because no one, no one, has ever asked her that before.

Not even her own mother when she had told her over the phone.

And normally, she would tuck it somewhere deep down, and keep it to herself, never to see the light of day.

But, for some reason…

…she wanted to tell him.

He was the first person who actually cared to know.

“I… I met him when I used to be a thief,” she said softly, seeing Hook’s steady gaze on her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes at the word thief. “He and I ran cons together, and we…” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes burned.

Tallahassee.

Forcing herself to get through it, she continued, “Some cops were closing in on him and I offered to help him get away with stealing something. And when I did it…” She took a breath, not meeting Hook’s eyes. “He called the cops on me and set me up.” She shut her eyes. “I found out I was pregnant in prison.”

“Bloody—“ breathed Hook. Emma’s eyes opened, cautiously looking at Hook, whose entire frame was rigid. His hand, still on her knee, tightened. “Baelfire did that to you?” He shut his eyes, seeming like he was attempting to manage fury. “Emma…”

“When I found him yesterday he… he told me he set me up because he found out who I was and he was trying to help me fulfill my destiny,” she said, her words gaining a sharp edge. “He just didn’t want to follow me to a town where his father was.” She glared at the blanket. “He told me to tell Gold I didn’t find him so that we’d have a clean break.”

Hook looked suddenly murderous.

“Bae would know what his father would do to someone who broke a deal with him—” began Hook furiously, taking a sharp breath to calm himself down, however marginally.

Emma lifted her head. “Bae,” she echoed. “You knew him, too,” she whispered.

Hook scrubbed a hand over his face, and opened his eyes. “I bloody thought I did,” he nearly growled. His eyes shut, and a muscle ticked furiously in his jaw.

He didn’t look like he wanted to divulge the information, and especially right now, Emma wasn’t exactly keen on talking any more about Neal. She shut her eyes, trying to shove the feelings back down where they belonged.

Opening her eyes, she said, “Well, um… speaking of that,” she said quietly, her broken walls trembling with the desire to build back up. “I’m really… glad you were there, when you were,” she said softly.

Hook’s eyes lifted to hers, trading anger for relief of his own. “As am I,” he said just as softly.

Emma’s brows kneaded. “Wait,” she said, “what were you doing in New York?” Hook hesitated, and Emma felt it click in her head. “You were there to kill him,” said Emma, answering her own question.

Hook didn’t say anything, but his eyes did. So many things that Emma couldn’t quite figure out.

“You got your revenge,” said Emma, just realizing that fact now. His two hundred year long crusade. Eyes on him, she asked genuinely, “Feel better?”

From the look on his face, he didn’t.

But his eyes found hers, that indescribable emotion deepening the blue. He swallowed, looking incredibly hesitant. But he took a breath, shutting his eyes to say, “Emma, I—“ He shut his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “When I… killed Rumplestiltskin,” he said slowly, opening his eyes, something unsteady in his eyes. “I didn’t do it for… vengeance. I wasn’t even thinking of my revenge,” he admitted in a whisper. Meeting her eyes, something soft shining through his, he said, “I was only thinking of you, Emma.”

Emma froze.

“Your boy told me you were in danger,” Hook went on, “I saw you—” His voice caught, pain and anger tensing his muscles. Finding her eyes again, nothing but raw honesty shone through. “All I was thinking… was you,” he whispered.

Emma felt her breath catch.

He had hunted for his revenge—the sole purpose of his life—for centuries.

And when he finally got it…

He did it solely to protect her?

The look in his eyes was something almost desperate.

Like he needed her to believe him, to know.

Like he felt the change between them just as deeply as she did.

She swallowed, saying slowly, “I… I went to New York because I owed Gold.” She met Hook’s eyes, feeling her heart beat a little faster. “But… it was more because I made a… new deal with him.” Hook’s eyes widened a fraction, and Emma shut her eyes, vulnerability coursing through her, saying, “He told me if I didn’t go with him… he’d kill… you.”

When she opened her eyes, Hook was staring at her in utter shock.

It took him a moment to find his voice. “You—” His voice caught. He tried again. “You went with the demon to protect me?”

Swallowing, vulnerability twisting her chest, Emma felt herself nod.

“Why?” he breathed. The words were spoken with genuine confusion, with something almost like wonder.

Meeting his eyes, Emma found herself whispering, “I don’t know.”

But only now, she was beginning to.

Because looking at Hook now, the man who saved her, held her, the man who was looking at her now like watching her was a privilege…

He cared for her.

It was past lust, past interest, past understanding.

It was something real.

The realization of it stole Emma’s breath.

And from the warmth in her chest, the feeling was mutual.

Emma had always felt that understanding with Hook. She could relate to him. They were eerily similar.

But in that apartment…

It was as if a switch flipped inside him.

As if he was a changed man.

The man she met was selfish and bitter and shrouded in darkness.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that this Hook hadn’t changed at all.

This version of him…

…was him.

This was Hook beneath his walls, his fury, his pain.

“Who are you?”

“Killian Jones. But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker: Hook.”

Emma felt a smile grace the corners of her lips.

The man before her wasn’t Hook.

It was Killian Jones.

And just as suddenly, she realized she wanted to know him.

The door to the cabin suddenly opened, with Henry’s head poking in, snapping both Emma and Hook out of what felt like a daze.

“Captain, I—” began Henry, but his eyes found Emma, and they lit up. “Mom!”

Henry.

Emma smiled wide, seeing him safe and okay, a brand new rush of relief washing through her. She watched her son run to her, throwing his arms around her.

“Careful, lad—” began Hook.

Henry’s hug hurt, but Emma just shut her eyes, feeling the sting of relieved tears brim her eyes. Gold had nearly killed her, and Emma had already promised Henry—promised herself—she would never leave him again. No matter what.

“Are you okay?!” asked Henry, pulling back, eyes wide with worry.

Emma smiled tiredly. “I’m okay, kid,” she said, her eyes shifting over Henry’s shoulder to Hook, to the reason she was. His eyes were already on hers, and Emma felt herself smile.

Henry grinned with relief of his own. He seemed to remember something, then turned to Hook. “I can see Storybrooke,” he said with a little relieved smile, looking like he was happy to be home.

“Wonderful job, lad,” said Hook, giving Henry a smile. “You make a better First Mate than Smee.” Henry all-but beamed at the praise. His reaction made Hook smile, and Emma found her eyes once again on Hook, simply stunned with the camaraderie, the quick sort of friendship that had grown between Hook and Henry in the last day.

So, so many things have changed in one day.

Standing, Hook looked to Emma. “I’ll… get the ship ready to dock, then.” And, looking more than a bit reluctant, left, and Emma was alone with Henry.

And to Emma’s surprise, it felt suddenly colder in Hook’s absence, something in her chest lurching as he walked away.

Perhaps more than just his embrace had become familiar.

“You’re really okay?” asked Henry, eyes tracing the bruising on her face.

“Really,” said Emma with a tired grin. She still had a horrible headache, her ribs hurt with every breath, exhaustion pulled at her and her vision still rocked with every move of her head. But she was breathing and she’d live, and she wanted to get the fear out of Henry’s eyes.

Settling himself with her reassurance, Henry said, “When Mr… when…” Henry couldn’t get the words out, and Emma didn’t blame him. “I ran to get help and I found Captain Hook.” said Henry with a relieved, proud grin. “We ran as fast as we could. He was like a hero!”

There was no like.

Hook was a hero.

Emma smiled. “You both were,” she said, watching pride light up Henry’s eyes.

But looking at Henry now reminded her of why they were here… and why it all happened in the first place.

“Maybe something good came out of us being together.”

“A truth about your parents… Emma, you of all people should know how important that is.”

Emma breathed out, sitting up a little against the pillows even when it made her ribs twinge. “Henry,” she said quietly. Taking a breath, she said, “I need to tell you something.”

Henry seemed to catch the seriousness in her voice, and he sank to the edge of the mattress, where Hook had vacated.

Taking another breath, Emma said, “Back… back in New York… I did find Gold’s son. Baelfire,” she said, stumbling a little over the words.

Henry’s brows rose. “You did?! But you said he got away,” he mumbled confusedly.

“I… let him get away,” admitted Emma, reluctantly meeting her son’s confused eyes. Before Henry could say anything, Emma went on, “That’s why… that’s why Gold and I… argued. He found out that I lied.”

“You lied?” asked Henry hollowly. “But… why?”

Taking another breath, though it didn’t do anything to steady her nerves, Emma shut her eyes.

Every child deserves to know who their parents are.

“Because… I knew him,” she whispered.

Henry’s gape was almost identical to Hook’s. “You did?”

“I met him a long time ago,” said Emma, voice pained. “He went by a different name. I… You know I didn’t have much growing up,” she said, her chest feeling constricted. Henry nodded, and she forced herself to get it out. “I was a thief and so was he. We stole to survive, and I… I loved him.” Shutting her eyes, she said, “But he ended up setting me up for his crime and let me go to prison for it.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “What?” Eyes misty, he said, “How—how could somebody do that to you?”

Emma felt her own eyes burn, and she forced the words out before she could stop them. “It’s… that’s not all, either,” she whispered, shutting her eyes. “Henry… he… Baelfire… he’s your… father.”

Emma opened her eyes, feeling her chest burn from far more than broken bones.

Henry’s eyes had shot wide.

He stumbled off the bed. “But… no,” he said, looking at her with a broken look that snapped Emma’s heart. “You said… you said my dad was a firefighter who died.”

“I lied,” she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. “I didn’t know I was going to have you until I was in prison and Neal was already gone. He doesn’t… know about you.” Henry looked frozen in shock. Emma’s chest burned. “Neal… he hurt me, he broke my heart, and I…” Her voice shook. “Henry, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want you to try to find him and for him to hurt you the way he hurt me and… and…” Her eyes shut, another tear falling. “I didn’t ever want to see him again.” Forcing herself to finish it, she said, “When I found him in New York and I realized he was… Baelfire, he asked me to lie to his father so that he didn’t have to see him. And… I didn’t want you to know.”

A slight silence spread.

A silence Emma has never had with Henry before.

Then…

“You lied to me?”

Emma’s eyes opened. Henry was looking at her, eyes watery.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” she whispered. “I was selfish, and sc-scared, and I’m so sorry. I’m—”

But Henry’s hand was suddenly on her shoulder, light and reassuring.

Emma looked at him in shock.

He was looking at her with a maturity no eleven-year-old should be capable of. “No,” he said quietly. “He should be sorry.”

“What?” whispered Emma.

“If he let you lie to Mr. Gold, and he let his dad…” His eyes found the bruises on Emma’s face, and his lip wobbled. “Well,” he said firmly, “then I don’t wanna know him.”

Another tear fell down Emma’s cheek, and she took Henry in her arms, hugging him tightly even when it hurt, feeling him hug her back.

“Henry, I will never lie to you again,” whispered Emma over his shoulder. “I promise.”

He hugged her tighter. “I love you.”

Another tear fell down Emma’s cheek. “I love you, too, kid. You have no idea how much.”

When they pulled away, Emma gave Henry a tired smile and said, “Why don’t you see if your Captain needs a hand?”

Henry nodded, getting to his feet, giving her a smile of his own. “Okay.” His shoulders squared and he hurried back out of the cabin, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs beyond.

Emma’s smile fell once she was alone.

She laid there for a moment, in the silence.

She used to feel so safe when she was alone.

But Emma was surprised at the niggling feeling somewhere in her chest, the unsteadiness, and she found herself wanting to see Hook walk back through the door.

“Don’t leave.”

Emma blearily remembered saying the words to Hook, a desperate plea.

She was stunned to find that now, the panic having subsided, that plea, that desire, hasn’t changed.

And just as suddenly, a little smile at her lips, she found that she didn’t want it to.

-.-.-.-.-.

AO3

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