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cssecretsanta2020 · 2 years ago

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Interesting twist on a iconic cs scene

It's Called Trust | OUAT fanfic | CSSS 2022 Gift

MERRY CHRISTMAS, @willexxmercer !! I was your Santa this year!!

I ran with your prompts of enemies to lovers and only one bed for this one!! I hope you like it!!

Summary: (season 2 "Tallahassee" canon divergence) Emma forgets that handcuffs cannot hold a pirate.

AO3

For a moment, the two of them inches away, Hook felt himself smile, the steel walls he hid behind for so long beginning to loosen for the first time in centuries.

But it was shattered, when he felt Emma click something around his wrist.

She shot back, stumbling away from him, eyes wide like he was a terrifying, bloody giant.

The grin of his faltered, his eyes finding what was around his wrist.

A manacle, chaining him to the wall.

Shock drove every warm feeling out of his chest, making it once again the frigid wasteland he was used to.

But somehow, this betrayal hurt far worse than anything he could ever remember.

"What are you doing?" he felt himself whisper, standing to follow her, but she only took another step back, and the chain prevented him from taking another step forward. "What are you doing?" he repeated, voice gaining an edge of anger, but it wasn't anger.

It was hurt.

"I'm sorry," escaped her lips, her eyes wide and scared, her body like that of a frightened animal.

"So you're just going to leave me here?" he demanded. "To let that monster tear me apart? Crush my bones?"

"He's not a monster," she said too quickly, too fast for it to just be about the giant, and for a fleeting second, he wondered what it'd be like for someone—for her—to defend him like that. "And you're not going to die," she said, firmly, surely, and for half a second he wondered why she cared to ensure it.

"Why do this to me now?" he tried, mind racing, yanking at the chain, that didn't give at all. "Have I told you a lie?"

That made her pause.

He knew she hadn't sensed any lie from him.

Because he hadn't told her one.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, like she meant it, something almost choked in her voice, a pain in her eyes as she whispered, "I just—I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you."

She backed away.

She was going to leave him here.

She was going to bloody leave him here.

She bloody used him to get the compass, and now that she had no more use for him, she was going to leave.

"You're sorry?" he echoed, hurt anger building into a rage he's so often killed with. "You're sorry?!"

She didn't respond, but her eyes did.

Then, she turned and ran.

"Swan!" he growled, yanking hard at the chain. "SWAN!"

There was no bloody way she was getting away with that compass, with double-crossing him.

No one double-crosses him.

Trembling with rage, it took longer than he would have liked to pick the lock with his hook, but he got it—pirate—and soon he was running after her.

Emma's entire body trembled with fear as she carefully switched handholds and footholds on her way down the beanstalk. Don't look down, don't look down… thoughts of returning to Henry kept her focused, kept her fear from overflowing.

However, she couldn't help seeing Hook's face flashing into her mind.

The moment he realized she'd chained him, that their alliance was abruptly severed.

It wasn't anger in that look.

It was shocked hurt.

Never in her life, for Emma had met many villains as both Emma the Savior and Emma the Bail-bondswoman, never in the moment her target learned they were cornered, did she see hurt.

She would see anger, rage, fury.

Never hurt.

But she shook it from her thoughts, focusing back on Henry, doing this for Henry, for what business did she have feeling guilty about leaving Hook behind?

But she was a little more than halfway down the beanstalk, where the trees below finally looked more like trees and less like dots, when something struck her wrist, pinning her to the stalk.

She let out a little yelp in surprise, glad that she hadn't been in between hand and footholds, and her eyes snapped to her wrist to see—

Oh, no.

A silver hook.

"I believe," snarled his voice as he revealed himself from the other side of the stalk, and Emma desperately tried to yank her hand free, "that you have something of mine, love."

The love was spoken with a sharpness that was nothing like the epithet's namesake.

Emma's heart jumped into her throat. "H-How did—?"

"Pirate," he reminded her, though the smirk wasn't in his features like it had been on their way up this beanstalk. "Give me the compass," he said firmly, and Emma tried again to get her hand free where he was pinning her to the stalk, but she was effectively trapped. A little panicked sound escaped her throat, at the same time that Hook's eyes snapped to her jacket pocket, where the chain of the compass gleamed in the sun.

"Ah," said Hook, that smirk back, but none of it holding any amusement. "I'll just take it myself."

He removed his hook from her wrist, and swiftly instead hooked the steel through the chain.

"Stop!" growled Emma, removing her hand to grab at the chain before he could take it, leaving them both in a sort of tug-of-war with it.

However it only lasted a few moments, because suddenly the entire stalk shook violently, as if—

Emma's eyes shot wide. "Crap," she breathed. "Mulan."

"What the bloody—" began Hook, but another strike to the beanstalk sent it swaying sharply. And both she and Hook, who only had a one-handed grip on the beanstalk, suddenly lost their holds.

A scream rose in Emma's throat as she fell, the sharp weightlessness feeling like the most terrifying thing. They were still hundreds of feet up in the air; the fall would kill them.

A flash of black leather as Hook fell next to her, and Emma suddenly felt an arm wrap around her waist, pulling her flush to a leather-clad body, and Emma suddenly didn't know if the falling or this was more terrifying.

But just as fast as they fell, something stopped them abruptly, along with a groan from Hook. They jarred to an almost-stop, and Emma's eyes snapped open, seeing that Hook had used his namesake to grab a branch of a tree that must have stood at least a hundred feet tall.

Though it interrupted their fall, the branch snapped on impact, and they fell, Hook attempting to grab another branch, each one breaking as he did, but also breaking their fall.

And suddenly they were crashing to the ground, Hook's arm releasing her as they did, both of them groaning as they hit the ground. However, the way the branches had slowed their descent, it didn't feel like they'd just fallen hundreds of feet through the air. It felt more like they'd only fallen a dozen feet.

Emma groaned as she pushed herself off the ground, feeling bruised, but surprisingly alive and not even having suffered more than scratches.

Beside her, Hook was painfully getting himself off the ground, wincing as he moved his shoulder, and Emma was stunned he hadn't dislocated it.

But even Emma was safe from the fall, she wasn't safe at all.

She stumbled to her feet even as Hook was trying to get his bearings, massaging his shoulder, and Emma snapped her head around, but the beanstalk wasn't even in sight.

"Where the hell is it?" she breathed, panic in her chest.

"Seems," came a pained voice as Hook rose to his own feet, "we've landed a ways away from the Beanstalk."

But Emma suddenly remembered something else.

What they'd been fighting over.

The Compass.

Her hand shot to her pocket, but it wasn't there; she didn't have it.

And from the way Hook seemed to remember at the same time, his hand going to his own pockets, his eyes scanning the ground around them for a gleam of metal in the grass, Emma knew they were screwed.

From Emma's own scan of the area around them, the compass was nowhere near.

They'd dropped it, and it could be anywhere.

Emma's eyes suddenly landed on Hook's, both of them realizing exactly what happened.

And within the same seconds, as if in a race, they both took off, running in opposite directions, eyes glued to the ground, looking for anything that sparkled in the sun.

Emma would kill for a metal detector right about now.

She needed to find that damn compass.

If she didn't find the compass, she couldn't get back to Henry…

Emma huffed a frustrated breath.

Right now she had no idea where to find the compass, and no idea where to find Snow, Aurora and Mulan, and she was pretty much completely lost in a world she knew nothing about.

And as much as she had tried to tell Snow she was fine and that she could take care of herself, that was on Earth, in a world that didn't have magic and irritating pirates and ogres and chimera as a traditional food—

Emma felt herself shiver beneath the leather jacket, and she pulled it closer around her.

The air was getting chillier as the daylight was fading, and she was suddenly growing far more scared than cold.

Don't be scared, don't be scared, she thought, just as she had so many times in a new foster home or one of the many times she found herself homeless, sleeping under bridges or in vacant cars.

But this wasn't even a world she could do that, and it made her realize how screwed up she was that the fact that sleeping under a bridge was even in her comfort zone more than where she was now—

She briefly shut her eyes, walking a little faster, wanting so badly to call out Mary Margaret's name, but learning the hard way that ogres are blind and they follow sound.

Emma took another unsteady breath, walking quicker through the forest, trying to be quiet and fast, but her boot suddenly snapped a twig under her feet, and at the same time, she felt a tension in the air.

Then, the ground shook.

With a heavy footstep.

The roar of an ogre that did not sound far suddenly rose a scream in her throat, but she swallowed it down, whipping her head around to try to figure out what direction it was coming from, her heart beating a million miles a second.

But it turned out it was coming from behind, and Emma whirled around, seeing the huge, hulking, ugly beast running at her. Without a second thought she turned and ran, nearly tripping over herself, choosing speed over silence, but it seemed this ogre was fast, too.

"Crap," breathed Emma, voice cracking with fear, skidding around a tree and ducking, curling herself as tiny as she could and holding her breath.

The pounding footsteps of the ogre came closer and closer, and suddenly it was in front of her, but it froze, tilting its head in the silence.

Emma pressed her hand over her mouth, her lungs burning, but she dared not make a sound.

But the ogre took another step closer to her, like it could sense she was there, and an involuntary gasp escaped her, and the ogre heard.

It roared so loud it shook the forest, and fisted its hand, moving to land a blow that would certainly kill her. She shut her eyes, burying her face in her arms—

Only for the ogre to roar in agony.

Emma's eyes snapped open, watching in shock as the injured ogre ran away, limping badly, to reveal—

Emma couldn't hide this gasp, either.

Hook stood where the ogre had been, his blade dark with what looked like blood.

He was thoroughly out of breath, like he'd been running for some time, and even in the faded light, she could see the fear in his eyes.

But when he looked at her, the fear was pushed away and traded for a smirk, but it was a lie Emma could have seen miles away.

"Hook?" breathed Emma, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in the curled up position she was in. She stumbled to her feet with difficulty, but her legs felt numb from the close call.

But with him in front of her, sword still out, she wondered if he or the ogre was more dangerous to her.

Emma expected either a smirk or a glare for leaving him behind, or perhaps to be the second victim to his sword.

What she didn't expect was for him to look at her with only more fear in his eyes. "It isn't safe out here. Come with me." He sheathed his sword, starting to walk away, but when she didn't follow, he turned back with impatience. And as if reading her mind, he said, "If I had wanted to bring any harm to you, Swan, I'd have let the ogre do so. Let's go."

He started walking again, and Emma felt indecision tearing her apart.

However…

The idea of being out here alone…

When the distant rumble of another ogre's footstep rocked the ground, Emma's feet made her decision for her.

She followed Hook, keeping herself a few feet away from him.

"Hook—" she began.

"Don't speak," he said sharply, eyeing the forest carefully, and Emma suddenly remembered the 'be quiet' rule with ogres.

Neither of them spoke for at least what felt like an hour, walking out of the forest and into dried up land by the side of a mountain, and after a while of walking through it, she saw Hook take a breath of relief.

"This way," he said, making her jump, as they'd been in silence for so long. "We can find shelter." Just as he said the words, Emma felt a few drops of rain hit her shoulder.

By the time they found a cave, and a tiny one at that that made the bridges Emma had slept under look like the Four Seasons, it had begun to pour. Luckily, they'd missed the heaviest of it, and Emma turned to watch it thunder down.

"The ogres don't often travel here," explained Hook, unsheathing his sword, and making Emma flinch a little, but he only held it to the rain to clean the blood from the blade. He eyed the sky. "Even if they do, the storm will drown out any noise we make."

Somehow, those words made her uncomfortable.

Emma swallowed.

A slight silence as he cleaned his blade, and Emma couldn't stop herself.

"Why did you do that?"

He looked at her, pulling his sword back under the shelter. "Do what?"

"Why did you stop that ogre from killing me?"

Why did you save me?

He looked at her, and in his hesitation, she saw a sort of uncertainty, like he didn't quite know the answer.

But instead, she saw a flicker of that hurt she saw when she'd handcuffed him, and Emma was suddenly far too aware he was still holding a sword.

"Why did you betray me?" he countered, lifting a brow that looked so much more dangerous than it had been up until now.

Emma felt a chill sweep down her spine.

Suddenly she was wondering if she should have taken the chance with the ogres.

He took a step toward her, and Emma kicked herself for moving an inch back instinctively. But instead of smirking at her fear, it seemed to… bother him.

He sheathed the sword.

Emma swallowed hard, standing up a little straighter, trying to gain some sort of confidence she didn't feel in the slightest. "Did you find the compass?" she asked, trying to keep her voice direct, unemotional.

She saw his…disappointment?...that she didn't answer his question, and his irritation at the new one.

But he pondered her question, a hesitation that was just enough for Emma to catch the consideration of telling a lie.

Her heart picked up.

But he seemed to think better of it, yet it also seemed to irritate him further and look like premature regret as sharp as the lightning that flashed outside, and he answered with movement, pulling out from his pocket—

"You found it!" breathed Emma, moving instinctively toward the compass to take it—the hope, the only way of getting home to Henry, the only way to not abandon him the way she was abandoned—but Hook's fingers closed around it, and he pulled it back a little.

"Yes," he said, the word careful. Measured. Watching her like he didn't know how to predict her. "I found it," he said slowly.

Emma again reached for it, but he pulled it further out of her grasp, lifting a brow as sharply as he'd raise his sword.

"I need that," said Emma, her desperation almost making her voice crack, her heart hammering.

"As do I," said Hook slowly. And before Emma could try reaching for it again, he pocketed it once more, making Emma flinch. "We should wait until morning," said Hook, when the silence spread too long. "The ogres are nocturnal." He kicked around some of the rocks and twigs that had gathered in the very small alcove, as if making room to sit.

"And what happens in the morning?" asked Emma, voice on edge, body tense, eyes still fixed on his pocket.

They both wanted, needed that compass.

He turned then, and watched her for a long moment. She could just see the war of emotions behind his own steel walls. Fear. Irritation. Hurt. Confusion.

But for the first time, she also saw exhaustion, and it was more than just in need of physical rest.

"I wasn't lying to you today," he said, voice suddenly serious, and Emma was surprised to hear how much he seemed to want her to believe him. "You are much safer company than Cora. At least, that was what I had thought before you left me to the giant's disposal."

"He—" began Emma, ready to defend Anton, but Hook didn't let her.

"I would be open to taking this compass and going to your land with you, so long as I can trust you." said Hook, looking her right in the eye, as if looking for a lie in her own.

And it somehow felt offensive that he deemed her untrustworthy.

"Or," countered Emma, "as long as I can trust you."

His brows shot up. "Me?" he said with surprise. "Love," he said, "I am not the one who left you handcuffed at the top of that bloody beanstalk." He took a step toward her, radiating an anger he seemed to have been keeping at bay, and Emma felt her back hit the wall of the shallow cave. "I," he said firmly, "have done nothing to warrant your betrayal or your distrust. I have saved your life three times now. And all you have done for me is leave me behind." He was inches from her now, brows narrowed into a glare that was so angry it could only have been caused by pain, and Emma couldn't look away from it.

He seemed to realize in that moment how intimidating he was being, and like he was shocked with cold water, he stepped back, that anger softening a little, doused like a cooling fire.

Their eyes, however, never left each other.

"I have no plans to betray you," he said firmly, keeping his eyes on hers, and Emma read every damn truth in them.

But she's done that before.

And Emma felt herself quietly say, "Betrayal isn't really something you plan."

It was as vulnerable as being without clothes to say the words, and she could tell by the shift in his face that he heard the vulnerability.

And in that shift, was almost an understanding, like he not only understood, but knew exactly what that felt like.

And maybe that he was beginning to realize that her leaving him at the beanstalk had far less to do with him.

"Well, then," he said, voice only just louder than the thundering rain. "It comes down to trust, then." He lifted a brow. "I'll ask you again. Care to try something new, darling?"

Emma watched him for a long moment.

And for the first time, actually… considered an alliance with him.

He had saved her life a few times now when he didn't have to.

And…

He had the compass.

He had already found the compass when that ogre nearly killed her.

He could have let her die, and gone off with Cora.

But he didn't.

And even after he saved her life, he let her accompany him to a safer place.

And he told her that he had the compass.

Perhaps he'd simply known she'd be able to tell a lie if he'd denied it, but he still did tell her the truth.

If he really wanted to, he could kill her right now.

She winced inwardly a little, realizing that he was right.

She was the one who was untrustworthy.

But for some reason, after everything, he still wanted to give her another chance.

Everything inside her screamed that it was an angle he was playing, that he and Cora were up to no good, that he was going to backstab her in the end. Possibly literally.

But the look in his eyes now…

It didn't look like he was going to hurt her.

However, neither did Neal.

"While you think that through, love," came Hook's voice, shattering her from the daze, he sat down, leaning against the wall of the tiny space, "you may want to get some rest. If we're to travel back to the beanstalk where your friends and mother are waiting for your return, we've quite a trek ahead of us."

He shut his eyes, seemingly to sleep.

Emma didn't move.

Her eyes fell to his pocket, where she could even see the slight gleam of the compass chain peeking out.

She looked back outside, through the dense falling rain, hearing a distant roar of an ogre.

Her heart skipped.

She looked back at Hook, who hadn't moved, but Emma knew was perfectly awake.

Try something new, darling.

It's called trust.

Emma sighed.

And out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Hook's lips twitch upward.

She sat down herself, trying to put distance between herself and Hook, but the alcove was stupid small. Her legs out straight brushed his, and a feeling that Emma decided to call fear rushed down her spine.

Hook, however, didn't seem to notice.

She pulled her knees to her chest, glad she had at least a few inches of space between her shoulders and his, but any further and she'd be in the rain.

She was still close enough that his scent enveloped them both, something like the ocean and leather.

Emma just hugged her knees tighter.

Silence fell.

She looked at Hook, who again seemed to be sleeping, but Emma knew he wasn't.

What if she fell asleep and he took the compass and left her here?

What if that was his plan all along?

Though then why would he save her from the ogre?

It took Emma what felt like another hour of pondering, but as she did, exhaustion weighed down.

She let her head tilt toward her shoulder, hugging herself tighter as a chill from the storm swept through. Her eyes shut, and she let them, planning to open them in a few minutes.

She was asleep long before then.

The soft light of day nudged Hook awake.

But it didn't come with what it usually did.

Usually, morning came with facing yet another day without his revenge sated, as each day without it was a failure. As each day without her was an empty and angry one, destined to only be worse than the last.

But for some reason, this morning… didn't bring that emptiness, that fury.

For some reason, it felt almost good.

His eyes opened slowly, rest having taken the edge of what had turned into a long day yesterday. Outside, the storm was over, though rain had left puddles and wet dirt. The scent of post-rainfall wafted through the area, and it was like the aroma of a fresh start.

Something he knew he could never have.

He was planning for a bitter end, and he'd made his peace with that.

But the strange… light feeling in his chest begged to differ.

Still half-caught in sleep, he moved to sit up straighter where he'd slept against the hard wall, but realized something probably far too delayed.

There was a… heaviness on his shoulder.

He looked down, and felt his heart stop.

The Swan girl.

Emma.

The last he'd seen of her last night was when she'd been curled up as far away from him as she could get without getting drenched in the rain, her eyes darting between his pocket where he knew the compass was, and the outside. She was quite the open book, and he knew she was pondering every possible plan to take the compass from him and leave with it.

But though distrustful, she was very smart.

Perhaps those qualities went hand in hand.

She knew as well as he did that she had no idea how to get back to the beanstalk, and she would have been dead within an hour if she had left last night.

But it wasn't just the fact that she was still here and the compass was still in his pocket.

It was that she was sleeping on his shoulder.

He couldn't tear his eyes away, frozen there, just staring at her.

Somehow in the night, she'd listed to the side, his side, resting her head on his shoulder, under his chin, almost like she fit there.

In a way that Milah never even had.

Her one hand was curled in toward her chest, as if protecting her heart, her other resting on his sleeve by his hook. Her eyes were shut, and she slept on, an occasional wince in her face, a twitch in her muscles, like sleep was never as restful for her as it should be.

Hook had had plenty of… female company over the years after Milah, but… they were enjoying the company for the same reason he was. For the passion.

But this… closeness?

It was something he hadn't experienced since…

He should move, he should wake her, he should run, he should leave her here like she left him.

He should have let the ogre kill her like it would have if he hadn't stopped it.

A question slipped through his mind, for about the thousandth time since last night. The same question she asked him.

"Why did you stop that ogre from killing me?"

He didn't know why.

He had every right to.

She'd betrayed him.

She was after the one thing he needed to get his revenge.

She'd have deserved it.

But something inside him had made him run the moment he knew the ogre found a target, and the moment he knew it was her.

Maybe it was something in the way she apologized for betraying him.

Hook had been betrayed many times over the years.

Never had the betrayer been sorry.

She'd hesitated after she'd done so; there was an agony in her decision.

It wasn't meant to be cold hearted.

He didn't know why she did it. But it was more than just because he was a pirate.

"I do not plan to betray you."

"Betrayal isn't really something you plan."

She was like that of a frightened animal. And seeing her there, terrified as the ogre nearly killed her…

She wasn't on this mission for anything more than to return to her child.

She knew as well as he did what abandonment does to a soul.

Sometime after she'd nearly left him to the ogres' mercy and before she'd left him to the giant's, there were cracks in those steel walls of hers. There were shaky smiles and there was…

He shook himself.

She was safer company than Cora, and he… he's… he's just… trying to help one more boy avoid becoming a Lost One.

That's all this alliance is.

But Emma suddenly shifted, lifting her head from his shoulder, opening her eyes.

"Morning, love."

Emma suddenly went rigid at his voice, and proximity, and her eyes snapped to him, realizing how close she was.

She flinched back instinctively, that fear that was as much a part of her eyes as the hazel in them deepening. And he tried to not feel the sting of her reaction.

They both got up, Emma very quickly, but Hook had a feeling it wasn't because of how uncomfortable he made her.

It was something of the opposite.

But there was something else in her shock, almost as if she was stunned he was still there.

She looked at him, like she was shoving every bit of that discomfort away. "You're really going to help us and not Cora?" she asked, changing the subject fluidly.

There's that distrust again.

"Aye." he said honestly.

Why did he suddenly want this woman's trust?

"If you want me to trust you," said Emma slowly, "let me hold onto the compass."

She held out her hand, waiting.

Hook lifted his brow. "Love, the last time I did that you handcuffed me on top of the bloody beanstalk." He lifted the brow higher. "I believe it is you who is in need of earning my trust."

Something shimmered in her eyes. And less than a whisper, she said, "I need to get back to my son."

Hook felt something deep inside his chest shift at the agony in her words, the pain of being away from her son.

So, he simply nodded, and said, "Then let's get you back to him."

Emma's eyes lingered on his pocket, on the compass, for a moment longer. But she shut them, and then opened them, giving him the tiniest of smiles.

It was a start.

They were walking for what felt like an hour or two, almost completely in silence other than some of Hook's directions and warnings.

The two of them walked with a few feet of space between them, like neither of them wanted to get too close.

Emma, at least, knew exactly why she wanted to keep her distance.

How could she have fallen asleep on his shoulder?

She never was one for cuddling, not even with Neal.

Why on earth would her body betray her like that?

All she knew was that she had hated it.

She utterly hated the feeling of being so close to him, just as much as when she had prevented him from breaking the trip wire in the giant's treasure room, and he had grabbed her.

She hated it, hated it, hated it.

Because a little part of her thought it felt good.

Not good in an he's attractive way, either.

That, she had chalked up to his ego and vanity and stupid charm.

But it was more that he felt almost…

Safe?

Emma wanted to scoff at the idea of thinking of Captain Hook as safe, but… clearly her body thought so, as she woke up sleeping on his shoulder.

As much as she wanted to think that was flat out wrong, with every footstep, Emma was starting to maybe… do it. Actually, for the first time since Neal…

Trust someone.

And just as she had the thought, they saw it in the distance:

The beanstalk.

Emma's little gasp of relief made him look at her.

"Aye," he said. "We're nearly there."

Emma smiled a little, walking a little faster, thinking about how terrified Mary Margaret must be right now.

"Here."

Emma stopped at Hook's voice, turning to see—

"What?" she breathed.

For he held out the compass, gesturing for her to take it.

"Take it," he said. At her unspoken question, he sighed and said, "Trust works both ways." A little uncertainty, he said, "You won't run off with it, will you?"

This time, Emma didn't even find herself thinking about it. "No."

He smiled a little, like he could read the truth in her eyes.

She took the compass, smiling.

Soon, Henry. I'll be home soon.

Hook started walking again, but Emma didn't, staring at the compass, the trust he placed in her hands.

Trust she really didn't deserve.

So, before she could change her mind, she said softly, "I only trusted one person in my life."

He stopped.

"And…" Emma felt her throat close a little. "He betrayed me."

Hook turned, watching her, listening with a little furrow in his brow.

Not like he didn't understand.

Like he didn't understand why she was telling him.

"He… he never told me a lie," said Emma, voice shaking a little, like her body was trying to reject the words that came out anyway. "And he… he betrayed me anyway." She took a shuddering breath. As hard as the words had been to say, words she had never said aloud before, it felt like relief. "That's why," she said, explained. "That's why I left you." She swallowed hard. "I…"

"I can't take the chance that I'm wrong about you."

Something shift in his expression, like he was replaying that moment too, with new context. And after a moment, a little sad surprise, like he was replaying another thing she'd said.

"I thought you'd said you'd never been in love."

"Maybe I was once."

Something about Hook's demeanor… softened.

Like he knew how much she'd just given him.

And how vulnerable it made her.

He was quiet for a moment, but then said, "I'd like to tell you why I saved you." he said, and Emma remembered her question to him.

"Why did you stop that ogre from killing me?"

Hook took a step closer to her. "However… I truly don't know why." Emma could read the truth, the confusion in his eyes as he looked at her, and she didn't even know if he realized he was still walking toward her, even closer. "I had every reason not to."

He was an inch away now, looking into her eyes, like the answer was there.

But instead of stumbling back, getting away from him like her body was screaming for her to do, she instead gave him a rare smile. "Truce?"

He seemed to shake from a daze, realziing how close they were. But he cleared his throat a little, smiling too. "Aye."

"Well isn't this cozy," came a cold voice from behind them

Cora.

Emma went rigid.

"I see you've found my compass," said Cora with a cold smile directed at Emma. "Good work, Hook."

Emma felt her entire body run cold.

She stumbled back a step.

Away from them both.

Her eyes snapped to Hook. "You told me I could trust you!" she breathed, feeling every nerve in her body go numb.

It suddenly felt like flashing back to the day she was arrested.

Hook, however, was still caught in shock, and had something so agonized in his eyes at her words, which was nothing like the smirk Emma had been expecting.

"And you've brought company," drawled Cora, taking a step toward Emma. Her smile faded. "However, I was on the fence on bringing you along with me. I certainly cannot trust the daughter of Snow White." And with a chilling smile, she said, "Kill her."

Emma felt fear slide through her like lightning.

She stumbled back another step, her heart pounding.

"We…"

Hook's voice stuttered, and to Emma's shock, he looked afraid.

"We…" he began again, like he was clawing for words. "We don't have to kill her. We… we can take her with us. Use her."

Emma froze.

He was trying to save her?

And his last words were a lie.

He was stalling.

"Hook," said Cora, in a terrifyingly quiet and frigid voice. "I allied with you under the condition that I had your full loyalty." She took a step toward him, and Emma nearly saw him flinch. "Kill her," she demanded. "Or I will kill you."

Hook was frozen.

But then, his eyes shifted to Emma.

Something horribly sad in them.

And then quickly— "Swan, run—!" he breathed.

Cora's features twisted, and she reached for his chest.

His heart.

His eyes shut.

And Emma's feet moved instinctively, throwing herself in front of him.

"EMMA!"

Emma felt Cora's hand sink into her chest, making her gasp like she'd swallowed ice. She felt the cold grip of fingers like claws curl around her heart and pull—

—but her heart didn't move.

Emma's eyes opened, seeing the witch's hand still in her chest, yanking at her heart that wouldn't move.

"What—?" she gasped, furious as she kept trying.

But then, a brilliant light exploded from Emma, the power of it so strong it struck Cora, throwing her back dozens of yards, crashing her into the ground, unmoving.

The light faded, and Emma stumbled, gasping, putting her hand to her chest.

"Emma!"

Suddenly he was touching her, his hook at her side to steady her, his hand finding her face, looking into her eyes with such a strong worry it made her lose her breath.

"Are you all right?!" he breathed.

"I… think so," said Emma breathlessly.

"Why did you do that?" he gasped.

Emma blinked, realizing what she'd just done.

She nearly died for him.

"I don't know," she whispered, looking at him.

Though she was no longer unsteady, he didn't let her go.

And it felt like she needed support now more than even before.

"You saved my life," he breathed, shock and awe coloring his blue eyes even bluer.

"You saved mine," countered Emma softly.

A moment held them in tense silence.

He was still looking at her, eyes inches from hers, and she couldn't tear hers away.

And his brows twitched, as if with curiosity, as if with wonder, and before she knew it he was leaning in and she was meeting him halfway.

The kiss felt like nothing she'd ever experienced.

It felt like speaking everything that had been in the tension between them the past two days.

He pulled back, their eyes opening, both of them caught in the shock of it.

But he broke the moment with a look toward Cora's unmoving form, and he said, "We need to get to your friends and then to you land. Quickly."

Still too stunned to speak, Emma only nodded.

And they began to run.

By the time they made it to the base of the beanstalk, Emma was out of breath.

But relief struck her at once.

They were still there.

Mary Margaret was pacing, Aurora was watching her with sad eyes, and Mulan—

….was tied up on the ground, cursing and fighting it.

"Mary Margaret!" called Emma as loudly as she dared as to avoid ogres hearing.

The moment Mary Margaret heard her, she gasped, spinning around.

She wasted no time; she ran, crashing into Emma, and grabbing her in a crushing hug.

"Emma!" she exclaimed, every ounce of worry poured into her name. "You're okay! Oh, my god, you're okay." She pulled back, eyes wide. "Where have you been?!" She suddenly glared at Hook, eyes threatening. "If you hurt my daughter—"

"No, he didn't," said Emma quickly. "He… um, actually… saved my life. A couple of times," she admitted.

Mary Margaret's brow raised. High.

"We found the compass," said Emma, lifting it. "But… Cora found us."

Mary Margaret and Aurora gasped, and Mulan stopped struggling.

"What?" breathed Mary Margaret.

"It's a long story," said Emma, "but she's unconscious and we should really get home."

Mary Margaert looked like she very much wanted to know that story, but let it go.

Emma suddenly asked, "Why is Mulan tied up?!"

"She tried to chop down the beanstalk," said Mary Margaret, using a very parental tone, and Emma winced. "We're going to talk about that when we get home." she said, with a pointed look at Emma.

"She really is your mother," commented Hook under his breath.

Mary Margaret's eyes shifted to him. Warily. "You expect Hook to come with us?" she asked Emma, suspicion and distrust in her eyes.

"Yes," said Emma, the word firm and certain.

"How do we know we can trust him?" asked Mulan as she stood, Aurora untying her.

"Because," said Emma, looking at him. "I do."

Mary Margaret's brow lifted, for she knew just how hard it was for Emma to trust.

Slowly, Mary Margaret nodded.

The other three women started leading the way, and Emma looked at Hook.

He was already looking at her.

And they both smiled.

-.-.-.

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