Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

Based off a tumblr post by whisperofgrace about how Emma tells Hook about his Disney counterpart.

For those of you who may wonder where the next ch. of The Call of Destiny is it's nearly finished. I've had a rough couple of weeks but it will be done soon. I couldn't get this out of my head though because it demanded to be written. This is a two-parter, the next chapter will be out probably Monday since I have to work tomorrow.

Review and enjoy!

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The fire was starting to die down, its glow dimly illuminating the clearing where they had made camp. David and Mary Margaret were curled together beneath their tent and Regina had settled as far as possible from the rest of them without leaving the circle of firelight. Emma stared at the dwindling flames and thought absently about getting up to find more firewood. She jumped when a twig snapped behind her and swung around the sword Hook had given her already in hand and swinging around toward the interloper. There was a small _clink_ as her sword connected with the glinting curve of a metal hook and Emma felt herself flush with embarrassment as she realized that she'd nearly taken Hook's head off. The wood he'd been carrying was lying in a heap near their feet, he'd dropped it ducking her swing and raising his hook to catch the blade.

"Good that you're prepared love, but next time think you could look before you try to decapitate me? I quite like my head where it is." Hook winked at her as he let her pull back the blade and bent to gather up the fallen wood.

"Um yeah sorry. Just a bit jumpy I guess." She apologized, feeling the heat in her cheeks slowly fade. She hoped that with the fire behind her the shadows over her face were dark enough he hadn't seen her blush. He'd never let her live it down.

"Quite understandable in these circumstances." He said. She stared at him for a moment as he started to gather up the wood but took a step back when he suddenly looked up at her. In the orange glow of the fire they were darkened from their normal brilliant hue so that his eyes seemed to match the backdrop of the stars above them. She started when she realized he'd caught her staring and she glared at him as if daring him to make a quip about it. He smiled a bit but let it go instead gesturing to the mess of firewood littering the ground.

"Would you mind giving me a hand?"

She shot him an incredulous look that said 'really?' and he chuckled.

"So to speak."

Shaking her head she sheathed the sword and bent down to help, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground as she worked. They were silent as they picked up the fallen sticks only the crackle of the fire and the soft hiss of the wind blowing through the trees the only noise aside from the occasional bird call. Glancing down she reached out for a stick laying a few feet away only to close her fingers around a warm hand instead of rough wood. She snatched her hand away as if she'd been burnt, catching the slight expression of hurt that flitted across Hook's face at the gesture. She couldn't stop herself from staring as she realized what it was she'd seen then felt her chest constrict in shame. This was the third time she'd shut him down when he was only trying to help.

She opened her mouth to apologize but before she could get the words out it was if a veil had been pulled over his face, all traces of hurt gone in an instant. She stayed there for a moment looking after him as he walked toward the fire to place his pile of wood near enough that he could reach it without risking it catching a stray spark from the flames. An unpleasant hot feeling was beginning to settle in her stomach and she shifted in place uncomfortably. Why should it matter if he'd been hurt by the gesture? She couldn't afford to let her mind wander from the task at hand. Even so somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice told her she was being unfair. That she was treating him as though he were her enemy rather than her ally and that it was especially shameful to do so after the speech she'd made at the beachfront earlier that evening. The look on his face as he shut away his hurt flashed through her mind again. She recognized that look - she'd worn it for most of her life. Quietly she gathered up the remaining wood and made her way over to where he sat.

She deposited her own burden on top of the pile he had made and then moved to sit near him. He didn't look at her as she settled herself onto the hard ground pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head on her knees so that her face was turned toward him. She watched him stare at the fire, tracing her eyes along the outline of his profile in the flickering light. There was a tenseness to the line of his brow that gave away just how much her reaction to his touch had bothered her despite the calm façade he'd put on. She didn't want him to be angry with her; she needed him on her side more than ever but she didn't know how to explain why she'd pulled away the way she had. She thought back to his words earlier, when he'd said he fancied her. She'd be lying if she said the thought didn't make her want to smile. She only half believed his words but even that was more than she'd dared to do in years. He had come back, for her – to help her – when no one else had. He was the first person to choose what she had to offer instead of running. She'd seen the sorrow in his eyes when he spoke of Milah back on the beanstalk and she knew what it must have cost him to give up his revenge but still he'd done it. Maybe it would be alright to risk a little trust, now that he'd shown her that part of himself. The silence stretched between them for a long moment before Emma cleared her throat. He didn't glance at her and she fought down a sigh before biting her lip and plunging ahead.

"I didn't say thank you earlier, for helping us get here. You came back when you could have left with that bean so, thank you." She paused watching the line of his features soften as he processed her words.

"You know you're not really what I expected you to be, back when we met I mean." She said haltingly as the image of the Disney version of him flitted through her head and couldn't stifle the giggle that rose in her throat as she recalled the cartoonish buffoon that was the counterpart to the very real, very capable pirate next to her. The movie was one of her earliest memories, from just after leaving her first foster home. Back then all she'd wanted was for Peter Pan to come and whisk her off to Neverland. To be able to fly away from the feeling of being unwanted to a place where she could leave all that behind and just be a carefree child, forever playing with friends who loved her. The irony of that didn't escape her now.

At the sound of her giggle Hook finally turned to face her, eyebrow raised in surprise.

"What did you think I'd be like then? Obviously you'd heard of me already back when we met, what did you expect me to be?" There was genuine curiosity in his voice and Emma had to bite back a gleeful laugh at the thought of what his face was surely about to look like when he heard of his doppelganger.

"Well, for one thing I thought you'd be a bit more bloodthirsty. In the story I know, you killed a deckhand just because he sang an annoying song." Now both of Hook's eyebrows were raised and Emma fought down another giggle.

"I'm not quite that heartless love besides I wouldn't want to kill a crewman for such a minor annoyance. You never know when you might need them for cannon fodder." He said. Emma rolled her eyes. She had the feeling that Hook's crew had been more of a family than simply underlings that he tolerated for their usefulness. It must have been nice. She made a mental note to ask him about it one day.

"What else did your stories get wrong about me?" Hook's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh lots of things. You're actually quite foolish in the story I know. Apart from being terrified of the crocodile that ate your hand –"

"Now hold on, I am not bloody terrified of that scaly – " Hook was nearly shouting and Emma held up a hand to shush him.

"Shhh! I know you're not. I'm just telling you what you want to know. Anyway in the story it's a literal crocodile. After Peter cuts off Hook's hand he feeds it to the beast who likes it so well that he follows Captain Hook around trying to get the rest of him. Peter and the lost boys almost feed you to it after making you admit to being a codfish when they corner you on your ship." Emma snickered at the scandalized expression on Hook's face. Before he could utter another outraged shout she went on.

"They got your name wrong too. You're James Hook in the story I know." Emma said. Hook's face went from shock to disgust in an instant.

"James? What kind of name is that for a pirate? That's a noble's name not something that a pirate would go by. Make's one think of princes and puffy sleeves, I find that I am offended." Hook stuck his nose in the air. Emma couldn't hold back her laugh this time and Hook joined her a moment later.

"Seriously though how could you confuse me with that preposterous character? I am nothing like him. I think I've demonstrated my bravery well enough by now along with my courage. Not to mention that I have a proper name, love. Killian Jones is so much better than James Hook."

"I'll admit they didn't really do you justice." She said softly resting her head on her knees again.

"Well I'm hard to live up to." He trailed off for a moment, looking at the fire. Then he turned to her and she saw a spark of mischievous amusement flickering in his eyes.

"You know love, you could call me Killian. I think you'd quite enjoy it." He winked and Emma shook her head rolling her eyes.

"I don't think so."

"And why not love? Have you got something against my name?"

Emma opened her mouth to reply but she was cut off by the _twang_ of an arrow cutting through the air as all hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

So this chapter sort of got away from me, thanks to my muse deciding to take this in a different direction. This chapter was supposed to the end of this fic but as it has taken a different road than I intended I'm extending this to probably three or four chapters. I originally intended this to be a lighthearted continuation of chapter one but thanks to Emma and a certain lost boy it quickly turned down a darker road. Angst warning ahead.

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Night seemed to last an inordinately long time in Neverland Emma thought as the stared up at the sky. It had been night when they arrived and that had been over twelve hours ago. It didn't seem that so much could have happened in such a short time but she knew better. From the storm to the fight with Pan and his lost boys it had been nonstop and Emma felt the ache of the day's hardship in her bones. All of them had been hit hard in the hours since arriving, and the fight had taken its toll leaving them all worse for wear. Regina had collapsed in a dignified heap, a feat that Emma had never realized could be pulled off until seeing it, atop her bedding. The extensive use of powerful magic in such a short period overtaxing the other woman's already tired body. David and Mary Margaret were again curled up together, sleeping soundly despite their aches. Emma wondered if Henry was sleeping comfortably somewhere or if Pan had him locked up in some strange plan to break down her son. The thought of Henry out there with those boys, with Pan tore at her heart. What Pan had said to her after the fight, what if he was right? She would certainly understand if he was. She couldn't forgive her own parents for abandoning her when she knew the whole story behind why they did it, how could she expect Henry to understand what she'd done, when she couldn't tell him everything about why she gave him up? He idolized Neal, and now that he was gone Emma couldn't bring herself to tarnish her son's memory of his father.

She looked over to where Hook lay near the fire. Hook had warned them to watch out for the lost boy's arrows tipped in poison but he hadn't been hit by one. The only injury he'd sustained was a shallow gash inflicted by the boy he called Felix. He'd said it was nothing, but now she could see him shivering in the glow of the firelight, despite how close he lay to the blaze. Her mother had offered to look at the wound despite David's whispered protests and eye rolls but Hook had waved her off saying it was nothing. Obviously he was worse off than he'd said and had managed to convince Mary Margaret that he was fine. She rolled her eyes at male pride but quietly slipped out of her own sleeping roll and tiptoed over to him. Kneeling down she placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

"Hook?" She whispered leaning down to look at him in the light. There was a sheen of sweat covering his brow and she realized that he was probably feverish. She felt her heart skip a beat as she continued to shake him whispering his name frantically in an attempt to rouse him. He didn't even twitch. Was it possible that Felix's blade had been poisoned as well his arrows? Emma's hands shook as she pulled back the blanket that covered him and raised the edge of his shirt where she had seen him tending the cut after the fight. She fought back a strangled cry as the wound was revealed. It was long and jagged, running from the bottom of his ribcage toward his hip in a diagonal slash. The skin around it was red and angry looking, the gash weeping blood and yellowish green fluid from the opening in his skin. She tentatively ran her fingers around the edge of the wound only to pull back quickly at the amount of heat radiating from his skin. It was infected or poisoned and the idiot had let them think it was nothing. He was going to die.

"Emma? Honey what is it?" Suddenly there were hands in her shoulders and Mary Margaret's voice whispering softly in her ear. Emma hadn't realized that she'd started crying, muttering no over and over as she looked at Hook's stomach until her mother laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You've got to help him. Look." She pointed at the wound. Mary Margaret's hands left Emma shoulders and she knelt to inspect the damage that had been to done. Emma unconsciously held her breath as Mary Margaret skillfully probed the wound. Hook groaned and jerked as she pressed gently on the skin surrounding the gash and Emma quickly grabbed his hook before he could swing out at her. It was pathetically easy to hold him down, a stark contrast to his usual strength. She still remembered their fight at the Lake Nostos, how easily he'd fought her off until she took him by surprise. Seeing him like this now was a blow she wasn't prepared for. Even after being hit by a car he'd never been this bad, she recalled the sight of him lying on that hospital bed, his face relaxed and peaceful for the first time she'd ever seen as she waited for him to wake up. Back then she'd taken the time to study the man in front of her where no one, especially him, could see her do so. Then she'd been stuck by the gentleness that his expression held underneath all the anger and bitter resentment of a man who'd has entire world torn away from him. She'd recognized a part of herself in him then, had seen through some of the mask that he always wore, as he was so easily able to do with her. They had that same child inside who only wanted someone in the world to love them, to value them, to stay. The realization had shocked her, made her value her decision to protect him from Gold's retribution even more. When he'd woken she'd quickly schooled her own face into a mask of stern authority, still trembling inside at the thought of how much they were alike.

Now she was watching him again, but this time she didn't know if he would wake or even if he would realize she was there. Suddenly she wanted him to know that he wasn't alone, that just as he'd been there for her when she needed help, she was here for him. She reached up to brush the hair from his brow and frowned. His skin was tacky with drying sweat but the heat of his skin told her that it hadn't gone. Wasn't it bad when people with fevers stopped sweating but stayed hot? She jumped a little when Mary Margaret sighed and sat back on her heels as she finished her inspection.

"Well?" Emma asked as steadily as she could.

Mary Margaret shook her head and Emma felt her heart jump into her throat.

"He's bad Emma. It's definitely poisoned but I've never seen anything like this. I don't know…" she trailed off biting her lip.

"What about Regina?" the question was out of Emma's mouth before she even realized she'd asked it but Mary Margaret nodded and went to rouse the other woman. Emma watched her mother shake Regina's shoulder, calling her name to no avail.

"She's out cold. She won't wake for several hours. I'm sorry." Mary Margaret said pulling the blanket she'd knocked askew back around Regina before returning to her daughter.

Emma pressed her lips together against the cry that wanted to burst from her. If Regina was out and Mary Margaret couldn't help then there was nothing they could do. Emma rubbed at her eyes and the rough leather of the lace around her wrist brushed against her cheek. This was like Graham all over again, only this time she would have to watch as Hook slowly slipped away from her, another person lost before she really got the chance to let them in. She could feel Mary Margaret's eyes on her but for the first time in her life Emma didn't care that someone was there to see her cry.

"Maybe I can do something. I've never dealt with this poison before maybe I can at least get his fever down. Maybe if we can wake him, he can help us find an antidote." Mary Margaret's voice was soft and hopeful. For the first time since finding out that this woman who'd she'd grown so close to as a friend was in fact her mother, a fairytale princess who embodied everything good and beautiful, Emma was glad to hear the note of optimism in her voice. She looked up at her mother through tearstained lashes and saw a look of determined resolve staring back at her. Emma nodded and stood.

"Then let's get to work."

Emma gripped her sword in hand as she tramped through the trees surrounding their camp. She wondered if part of the reason that Mary Margaret had sent her to collect plants, after giving her detailed descriptions of the kinds of plant to look for that had left Emma's head spinning, was that she simply wanted to give Emma something to do. She remembered the determined yet worried look on Mary Margaret's face as she strapped the sword to her back and picked up the lantern.

"Hopefully the fauna here isn't too different from the Enchanted Forest. I've seen some similar plants already, even have some things in my bag that might help but I don't have enough. Don't go far though, if they catch you alone –"

"They won't. I'll get what we need." She'd taken her mother's hand, squeezing it gently before stepping through the underbrush, lantern in hand. "And thank you."

Even if that was the case, Emma found she was grateful. She hated being useless and she'd been feeling more and more that way since falling through the portal after the curse broke. Suddenly she stumbled over a root that she hadn't seen and the lantern went flying as she put out a hand to break her fall, trying not to stab herself with her own sword. She fell heavily, the wind knocked from her chest from the force. She lay there for a moment wheezing harshly before managing to clamber up onto all fours panting as she gasped for air. A branch snapped to her right just as a sharp point dug itself into the side of her neck and she froze.

"Well well well, if it isn't the little orphan. What are you doing out here all by yourself?" a voice crooned in her ear.

It was a lost boy, it had to be. The voice was familiar but she couldn't place it. It wasn't Pan.

She gritted her teeth and tried to shift so that she could see him but he pressed the point of his dagger sharply into her skin. She gasped when the point scratched her, a think line of blood trickling down toward her shirt.

"I asked you a question. Answer it and I might let you up." It dawned on her that this was Felix. Emma had overheard the conversation between him and Hook during the fight. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he'd injured Hook.

"I had to pee." She said through gritted teeth. The pressure of the dagger against her neck relaxed and Emma used the leeway to glance up at Felix. She would have laughed at the baffled look that had come over the boy's face if the situation weren't so serious. The look faded quickly, replaced by a smirk.

"They let you go alone? Hook should know better. How is he by the way?"

Emma glared up at the boy but said nothing. Felix's smirk widened.

"By now he should be doing pretty badly after taking that blade to the gut. Let me guess the real reason you're out here. Trying to save the pirate? I'm disappointed in you Emma. We all are." Felix moved around to kick her sword away from her hand. Once it was safely out of reach he let her sit back on her heels.

"I don't care what you think. All I care about is my son and getting him back." Emma snarled.

"Then why are you out here helping Hook?"

"Because…" Emma cut herself off. She didn't owe anything to this miserable excuse for a boy.

"Let him die. He deserves it after all he's done. Let him die and I'll take you to your boy." Felix knelt down so that they were eye to eye. Emma stared at him trying to gauge if he was lying. He wasn't.

She looked down at her shaking hands as she considered the offer. If she let Hook go, then she could save Henry. She was frozen between going after her son and letting the man who had given up everything for her die.

"This is a limited time offer, lost girl."

Emma started at the words, almost agreeing to the proposition before she caught sight of the leer of Felix's face. This was personal for him, he couldn't guarantee that she'd get to Henry before Pan found out about his betrayal and killed them both. She shook her head.

"No. I'll get my son back without your help. I won't leave Hook behind again." She whispered, taking pleasure in the sour look that crossed the boy's face.

"So faithful, are you sure you're putting that loyalty in the right place?" He sneered rising up from the ground and kicking her sword back over to her.

"What you're looking for is over there." He pointed to a thicket of brambles stretching between the trees. Emma saw a flicker of white under the green and knew he was right. Those flowers were what would save Hook.

"Be careful of the thorns, they bite." With that parting shot he disappeared through the greenery as silently as though he'd never been there. Emma looked over at the thicket and groaned. It was dreamshade covering the flower she needed.

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I admit it, I'm enjoying this a little too much. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this is so late! I was having some really terrible writer's block, mostly because Emma was feeling contrary about this bit and didn't want to cooperate. There will be one more chapter after this, so we're really close to the end! I hope you all enjoy this!

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Emma glared at the offending vines before her, trying to figure out a safe way to extract the delicate blossoms that were caged beneath them without risking her own life. The dull orange glow of the lantern revealed the black poison oozing sluggishly from the woody vines, dripping down the edge of each wickedly long thorn. Even the air around the dense patch of vegetation was heavy, as if every living thing were watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake and fall prey to the deadly plant. She knew better than to cut them, after Hook had pulled David back from making the same mistake. For all she knew the damn thing would come alive and strangle her if she tried, nothing seemed too farfetched in this place. She stuck the tip of her sword in the ground and knelt down to get a better look. The vines were too tightly entwined for her to reach through them to the flowers and she couldn't risk a scratch. She didn't know if the poison dripping from the thorns would be able to infect her if it came into contact with her skin but she didn't want to risk it. Hook had been utterly serious when talking about the dangers and having one member of their group dying was enough for her.

Emma ground her teeth in frustration. Would nothing ever go right? Just once in her life she wished something would come easily, without having to wait for the other shoe to drop. She glanced around the small clearing hoping for an idea but apart from trees and leaves there was nothing helpful to hand. Biting her lip she stared at the blade sticking up out of the dirt and began to wonder how long she'd been out here. How much longer could Hook last? He was in bad shape and the idea of losing him still shook her. She'd already lost so many people. She ran a finger along the boot lace she'd tied around her wrist the day after her election as sheriff. Graham had been the first person to crack through the shell she'd constructed around her heart, the first man in nearly a decade to breach that part of her. When he'd died in her arms she'd thought her heart would never heal, because his death coming so soon upon their first kiss had convinced her that she was meant to be alone. What other explanation was there for losing everyone she'd ever loved?

But then Hook had come along with that smile and those bright blue eyes and that damning ability to see right through every wall and obstacle she put in his path. She'd fought it, fought the attraction that she could feel building from the very moment they pulled him out of the rubble in Aurora's village, fought so hard that this time she'd thought she'd win. That this time her heart wouldn't make a fool out of her and when he'd rejoined Cora she'd thought that it had been the right thing to do. But then he made it to Storybrooke, and she'd seen just how broken he was – just as broken as she was – and had realized that no matter how hard she fought that understanding between them, the ease with which they saw through each other's pretenses, it would never go away. Still she resisted, until the day that he came back with that bean. For the first time in her life someone had chosen her and Emma still couldn't fathom the reason. When he'd offered assistance to help find Henry Emma had jumped at the chance. He'd been surprising her consistently since their arrival in Neverland, acting against her previous perceptions and expectations, always putting her first even when he was hurting too. He'd come to comfort her, to let her share in some of his own memories of Neal despite his own pain back on the Jolly Roger. In the short time that they'd been here Emma had seen another side to him, a side of him that she wanted to get the chance to know. She was starting to see the kindness behind the arrogant, uncaring front he put up for the world and damned if some vine was going to stand in her way.

She stood up with a growl and yanked the blade out of the ground before swinging the scabbard off her back and unhooking the leather harness that had held it in place. She couldn't cut the vines but maybe she could push them back to get at the flowers beneath. She still needed to protect herself from any poison that might drip off the vine though. How was she going to do it? Emma bit her lip in frustration before exclaiming in triumph. She ran over to the nearest bush and started ripping the broad fan leaves from the body of the plant. If she used the leather to tie the sword and scabbard together she could lay the leaves on top to make a sort umbrella to catch any drops of the deadly substance. When she had enough she went back to where her things lay. Working quickly she laid the sword across the scabbard in a cross pattern and then secured it with the leather strap. Hopefully it wouldn't get cut since she couldn't keep the edge away from the material but it was risk she was willing to take. Carefully she laid the leaves atop her construction, leaving some aside in case she needed a replacement. It wasn't perfect and she'd have to be careful not to dislodge the precariously balanced covering but it might just work.

Emma eased the pointed end of the scabbard under the vines, slowly edging the contraption far enough into the tangled mass that she could reach her goal. Then she began lifting upward against the thick woody plants. They were tangled together so tightly that even pushing with all her strength she could hardly budge them. They parted just enough to create a small gap in the wall of vines, barely large enough for her hand. She moved the scabbard to her shoulder, using her body as a prop and steadying the leaves atop with her free hand. Her other hand shook slightly as she reached toward the vines. A nervous sweat broke out across her brow, her breath coming in sharp gasps, hitching in her throat as she passed her hand into the hole she had created. Then she was past the wall and could feel the soft blossoms brushing against the tips of her fingers. She gathered as many as possible before drawing them carefully out and laying them aside. By the look of the tiny blossoms she'd need several handfuls, she thought.

Working carefully she extracted the flowers without incident until she reached in for the last handful. The scabbard resting against her shoulder suddenly slipped and she reached up to grab at it dislodging the leaves protecting her hand. Emma hissed as a drop of black liquid oozed onto her wrist but tamped down the urge to jerk her hand out of through the hole. Carefully she grabbed the last bit of flowers and eased her hand back. When she was clear she let the scabbard drop and grabbed one of the leaves she laid aside, wiping frantically at the poison on her skin. When she had most of it off she pulled out her water skin and doused the area, the cool water feeling like a blessing on her burning wrist. She repeated the action until there was no trace of the dark liquid left. Shaking the water from her hand Emma inspected the damage. There was an angry red patch spreading over her wrist and the back of her hand but it didn't seem too bad. Even the burning sensation was starting to fade now that she'd washed off the poison. Not wanting to take any chances she tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her shirt, wrapping it around the irritated area.

"Well that should hold it." She muttered as she tied off the bandage. With only one hand she had to use her mouth to secure the knot, bringing to mind another such situation. The memory of Hook looking into her eyes as he wrapped her hand back on the bean stalk sent a sudden shiver through her. She'd be lying if she said that it hadn't turned her on; watching him work with barely disguised longing, almost wishing that he'd slip so she could feel the touch of his lips against her skin. She'd hidden behind her walls then, now she didn't have to. Suddenly she wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss her, the thought making her suck in a breath of surprise. She'd carefully avoided such thoughts but she was finding it harder and harder to do so. Emma shook her head against the thought; she had to stay on track here. Help Hook, find Henry. Those were her goals right now. She didn't have time for anything else. With that thought she rolled the bundle of flowers into a leaf and tucked the makeshift package under her arm. It was time to get back to camp.

When Emma made it back to the camp she saw that Mary Margaret had enlisted David's help with Hook. David had Hook propped up against his chest in a sitting position trying to help Mary Margaret to get him to drink. Emma's heart did a sort of skip-hop when she saw that Hook was awake, his eyes heavy lidded but still bright with fever as he fought against David's hold. He was yelling indistinct protests about poison and turning his head away every time Mary Margaret tried to tip water down his throat as Emma headed for the trio, dropping her bundle of plants by her mother as she knelt to put her hands on Hook's face.

"Hook! It's alright, we're just trying to help." She said as she rubbed her thumbs over the curve of his cheeks. His struggling eased as he turned those clouded eyes toward her voice.

"Swan?" he slurred as he tried to focus on her.

"Yeah it's me. Look you've got to drink something –"

Hook shook his head violently breaking her hold.

"No, this 's dream. Trick. Pan. Won't let." He resumed his broken rambling as Emma put her hands on him again. Reasoning with him obviously wasn't going to work. It took all three of them holding him down to get the slightest bit of liquid down his throat but eventually they succeeded. Hook slumped forward, weakened by his struggles, and David carefully placed him back on the ground.

"Thanks." She whispered to him as he stepped back. She noticed that he was sweating, and his face was a little flushed. Probably from the effort of holding Hook down, she thought.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'll keep an eye on him." She said motioning toward the bedroll he and Mary Margaret had occupied earlier. For a second he looked like he was going to argue but then he nodded.

"Call me if you need me." He said, stopping to press a kiss into her hair. Emma kept herself from tensing up at the affectionate gesture just in time. She sent him a reassuring look as he lay down and closed his eyes. She watched him breathe, realizing that he was asleep within minutes. Hook must have taken more out of him than she'd realized. Shaking herself mentally Emma turned to her mother who was picking through the flowers that she'd brought back.

"These look right. I'll get started." She said picking through the flower and separating them into small bunches.

She motioned Emma over and showed her how to pluck the flowers from each stem without damaging the petals and then began her own work. It didn't take long for Emma to finish her task and soon there was nothing for her to do but watch as Mary Margaret as she ground the flowers into some sort of paste.

It was still strange to think of Mary Margaret as her mother, as Snow White. It was stranger still to see that despite being a princess her mother was more knowledgeable about this kind of stuff than Emma had thought a princess would be. Didn't they have other people to do this kind of thing for them? She wondered. And how did she even know that these would work? She hadn't questioned it before, caught up in the fear of realizing how dire Hook's situation was but now that she had a moment to breathe she was starting to wonder.

"How do you know what those are? How so you know they won't make him worse?" Emma could hear the slight tremble in her own voice and hated that it was there. She didn't want to admit, even to herself, how much it would hurt if she lost him now. Her mother looked up from her work with a mischievous smile.

"I spent a lot of time on my own when I was young. I learned how to take care of myself and learning to heal was a part of that. I promise this won't do any harm. These look just like the flowers I used for this back home."

How often had her mother had to treat poisoned wounds? Emma wondered but didn't voice the question. She needed her mother to be right, to be the one who knew what to do because at the moment Emma was so far out of her depth she felt like she was drowning. She nodded shakily and watched as her mother's practiced hands blended the paste and added water to it so that she could more easily spread it onto the wound.

"I'm surprise his yelling didn't wake Regina. How is she?" Emma asked, not comfortable with the tense silence that had fallen between them.

Mary Margaret looked up from her work to glance over at Regina's still sleeping form. There was a small smile on her face as she turned back toward the flowers that Emma couldn't quite place.

"She'll be alright. I think she's just not used to putting out so much power at once. To be honest I didn't think I'd ever see her like that again." She murmured as she returned to her work.

Emma's brow wrinkled in confusion. Mary Margaret almost seemed of fond of Regina, the way she was talking.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"Peaceful. She looks peaceful. It's been a long time since I've seen her that way. I did this for her once, you know. I didn't know it was her, at the time but looking back I think it might have been the first time in her life that someone had cared for her without asking anything in return." Mary Margaret bit her lip as she said this, lost in memories, but her fingers never slowed as she ground the flowers.

Emma fell quiet at this news. She hadn't ever given much thought to what had transpired between her parents and Regina, happy to go along with the story she knew as her guide. Maybe there was more to it than she'd thought. There probably was, look at how often the stories she'd grown up with had been right. So far they were batting a big fat zero.

She looked back at Hook, who was shivering beneath the blanket David had laid over him despite his nearness to the fire. He was nothing like she'd expected him to be, when he'd told her his name. Every time she heard it the image of his cartoon counterpart still popped into her head. Maybe he was right. If she ever wanted to give him a chance, to see if he could really be the man she sometimes glimpsed beneath that mask, she'd have to start calling him by his proper name. Killian. Kill-i-an. She mouthed the name as she looked at him, careful not to voice it aloud. It was a good name, it suited him.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret asked quietly.

She turned back to her mother to see that she was holding a small bowl of the paste she'd created. Nodding she moved out of the way but Mary Margaret motioned for her to take hold of Hook.

"Emma I need you to hold him down. I won't be able to do this if he's thrashing around. Talk to him, keep him distracted." Snow stared intently into her daughter's eyes, seeing the flash of fear that crossed them at her words.

Emma bit her lip before settling on the opposite side of his body from Mary Margaret, leaning across his torso and using her arms to hold his down so that he wouldn't thrash and endanger either of them with his hook. She laid her head against his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"Hook c'mon you can do this." He moaned loudly and she felt his body jerk under hers as Mary Margaret cleaned the wound with a wet cloth. She looked at his face and saw his eyes fluttering, the bright blue dull with pain and clouded with the fever that had taken him over. He mumbled gibberish in between the grunts and moans of pain and she could tell he didn't know she was there.

She heard him muttering in her ear, his voice weak and thick with pain. She thought she heard him say Liam, pleading for him not to leave. That turned into Milah' name, mixed with barely coherent threats of vengeance for her murder. Mixed in between were mumbled apologies to Baelfire that had Emma reeling in confusion. She felt tears sting her eyes at the realization of just how much pain the man beneath her had suffered, how similar their lives had been despite how little she knew of the details that made up his past. They'd both lost so much and if this didn't work, if Mary Margaret couldn't save him, she would lose him too. She buried her face in his neck mumbling reassurances and promises into the hot dry skin as tears streamed down her cheeks.

His body jerked beneath her as Mary Margaret spread the paste into the wound. Hook cried out at the touch trying to move away from her but Emma held him in place. His struggles her stronger and she gripped him tighter, keeping his hook arm immobilized. He tried to sweep his hook up, to strike out at the cause of his pain but Emma held him fast. She could feel sweat trickling down her neck from the effort of keeping him still.

"There. I'm all done." Mary Margaret's said quietly as she put a hand on Emma's arm. Emma glanced down to see that her mother had bandaged the wound carefully and expertly, there wasn't a visible trace of the slash in his side beneath the length of cloth. Emma eased herself off of Hook, being careful to keep his hook immobile until she could remove it. With a soft click the item came free and she tossed it to Mary Margaret who tucked it away inside her bag. She chastised herself for not thinking to do so earlier but breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that the strained lines of Hook's face had softened now that they weren't probing his injury.

"How long do you think he'll be out?" She whispered as she settled herself into a more comfortable position near Hook.

She didn't want to be too far away, afraid that she would miss a change in his condition if she didn't watch him closely. She caught the look in Mary Margaret's eye at the action and patently ignored it as she turned to watch the fire.

"Probably for a few hours yet. How are you holding up?" Mary Margaret asked quietly. Her voice was soft but there was an undertone of suspicion that didn't escape Emma's notice. She'd hoped that her mother hadn't noticed how out of character she'd been acting about this, but it had been a dim hope. Deep down she'd known that her mother would see through her. Didn't mean she wanted to talk about it. She reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes only to hear Mary Margaret's startled gasp.

"Emma what happened?"

Mary Margaret reached out to grab her wrist, the sudden burst of pain making Emma wince. Gingerly she pulled her injured arm out of her mother's grasp and shook her head.

"It's nothing. There was dreamshade and it –" Emma stopped talking as her mother's eyes filled with tears.

"No! No don't worry! I didn't get scratched," She said quickly unwrapping the bandage, "It just dripped on me is all."

She showed her mother the reddened skin that was already starting to look less angry. Mary Margaret took her hand, leaning close to inspect it. The mark stretched from halfway up the back of her hand down to cover the bones of her wrist. Emma winced as her mother gently turned her hand but didn't voice a complaint.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Mary Margaret asked worriedly.

Emma laid her other hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder.

"I'm fine. Really."

"At least let me look it over." Her mother said, pulling her bag back over to her and assembling the supplies she'd need to tend Emma's injury.

Emma didn't protest, despite how strange it felt to let someone take care of her. When her mother was finished they both sat together, their shoulders brushing as they watched Hook. All that was left to do was wait.


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Humor, Romance