For the Love of Swan

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She was pale. Not to say that she was known for her golden tan, but she was too pale even by her standards. If it wasn't for the constantly beeping heart monitor, it would almost be as though she was merely sleeping.

As Hook sat in the chair, one of her cold hands clutched between his, he was struck by a memory of himself lying in a similar bed in a similar room, Emma leaning over him, uttering threats barely disguised by that cheeky smile of hers. He remembered snarking back at her as he fought against the restraints holding him down. Even then he'd found her charming. Oh, how he wished they could go back to that day.

Mary Margaret and David had gone in first, leaving Hook to relay the events of the past twelve hours to Henry in a low, hollowed, detached voice. The high pitched notes and wavers in the kid's voice was evident of his devastating reaction. Hook couldn't do much more than say that he could go see his mother if he pleased. And then Henry had been too overcome with emotion to continue speaking on the phone any longer, and Regina had picked it up, saying in a crisp voice that she'd bring Henry over in several hours.

The chair was pressed up against the bed as close as possible. There wasn't much he could say; instead, he settled for gripping her hand tightly, burying his face in the rough fabric of the blanket covering her, hoping desperately that he could convey all of his jumbled feelings through his touch. His shoulders began to shake as the tears he'd been holding back for so long finally came.

"Emma, love." He choked, voice muffled by the thick fabric. "I'm so, so sorry..."

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Eye pressed to the spyglass, smooth metal worn by many years of use, Hook spied Emma, sitting alone on a large rock by the water, long hair blowing violently in the wind. In the distance, the clock struck twelve. Noon.

Just as he'd expected, Emma was not planning to show up to her lunch date with Neal.

He closed the spyglass, stowing it in one of the many pockets in his large leather coat. From where he stood on the deck, she wore a conflicted look. Well, if he had anything to do with it, that look would soon be replaced by one of rapt desire for him. Stifling a cheeky grin, he headed down the gangplank of his ship and straight towards her.

Her posture was rigid and her fingers tapped repeatedly on the rock beside her. She looked up as he approached, her expression one of surprise. "Hook?"

"Rather nice day isn't it?" He commented, maneuvering over the jagged rock covered ground.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why, as I said, it's a rather nice day. Just here enjoying the weather." He answered.

She stared suspiciously at him. "Really."

"Really." He sat down on the rock beside her and flashed her a wide smile. Uncapping the flask with his hand, he held it out to her. "Rum?"

She rolled her eyes; nonetheless she grabbed it and took a large swig. "Thanks."

"Question is, love," He took the flask back and pressed it to his lips, trying to ignore the fact that he was touching where her lips had been just moments ago. "What are you doing here? I know we didn't fight so hard back in that cursed land for you to be sitting out here alone. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

Emma shrugged but did not respond.

Alright, enough beating around the bush. "Aren't you supposed to be at Granny's with Neal?"