For the Love of Swan

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: As usual I don't own anything.

Takes place after Neverland in season 3, then goes AU.

Chapter 1

Three am was an oddly quiet hour in the normally busy building that consisted of Storybrooke's hospital. There was nothing to do, nothing to distract himself with other than the cup of oily coffee he'd procured from the vending machine not far from where he currently paced. Idly, he considered topping off the dark beverage with a few drops from his flask, but drinking in this situation didn't sit right with him. He swirled his cup, trying to focus on something other than the events of the past several hours.

Outside the dirty window, the town was dark. All he could see was numerous dark houses that unquestionably consisted of sleeping bodies, cuddled in their beds at home with their loved ones. Several hours ago, that had been her.

"Hook!" Came a loud, frantic voice from the other end of the hallway.

Hook looked up sharply at the sound of his name to see Mary Margaret and David rushing breathlessly down the hall towards him, where he sat, eyes glued to the doors behind which Emma had disappeared into several hours ago.

As expected, they were full of nothing but questions.

"What happened?!" David demanded, hands already curled into fists. Although he and Hook had formed a tenuous friendship in Neverland, the fact that he'd gone immediately into protective father mode showed that their friendship could vanish in a split second.

Not that Hook could blame him; the mere thought of someone harming little Ava made his heart start to pound with anger. For a second he wished his daughter was here with him, in his arms, but the events of the day told him just how inept he was at protecting his loved ones.

It was better that Ava was safely with Granny and Ruby.

"I..." Hook began heavily, but found that he could not continue. Not without violently dispelling the contents of his stomach onto the waxy floors. "There was an intruder…" He said vaguely, but did not elaborate. "I'm not entirely sure myself, mate."

But he knew that this is a lie.

"You were the only one with her! You're telling me that you have no idea why my daughter is in there, fighting for her life right now?!" David cried, gesturing wildly. He was leaning into Hook, who could feel the man's breath on his face.

"Aye." Slowly, Hook backed up. "I don't know much more than you…"

Lie.

David looked as though he was about to say something more, maybe sink his fist deep into the pirate's stomach, but thought better of it and sank heavily into a chair.

"How long has she been in there for?" Mary Margaret asked. Unsurprisingly, her eyes were full of unshed tears.

That, at least, was a question he could answer. "A couple hours."

A couple hours soon became several, which quickly increased until Hook stopped counting. The sun came up, the orange light cutting across the sky. All around town, people were waking up, making coffee, looking forward to another day. All except her.

The only saving grace was that Henry was at Regina's for the night. Hook had no idea what he would've done if the kid had been present.

The stark white of the floors burned his eyes. He'd been staring for too long at the too clean floors, breathing in the horrible antiseptic smell of the building. But it was an improvement over staring at the door, willing it to open with good news.

Around five, Mary Margaret got up to buy coffee. Hook remained motionless, glued to the sticky plastic chair. About an hour later, David went down to buy some breakfast, although none of them were very hungry. Hook still remained motionless, glued to the sticky plastic chair. Having someone to yell at would take away, at least temporarily, some of the guilt building up inside. Sitting around helplessly was not very desirable, but he forced himself to remain in the chair, hand smoothing against the sharp metal hook.

There was a prod to his side. "Hook?"

He jerked his head up to find Mary Margaret's concerned face staring down at him. "You should go get some food or something."

"I'm fine." He curtly brushed her off, and then immediately felt bad. "It's not me you should be worrying about."

Mary Margaret smiled sadly. "Blame the mother instinct. Who else do I have to care for right now?" Her gaze dropped down to his hands, which were knotted tightly together, and her face hardened. She turned away, burying her face in her husband's shoulder. Seconds later, the hall was full of sobs once more.

Without looking down, Hook knew immediately what had set Mary Margaret off. Blood. The blood that was still smeared around his finger tips, no matter how hard he'd scrubbed. The warm, sticky blood that had stained their white carpet a dark crimson color, coated his hands, and slowly seeped out of her as she lay gasping for breath in his arms.

Hours passed by in a blur. People passed by, faceless figures in the daze that Hook was in. He was exhausted, but the many cups of coffee pumped through his system with every heartbeat, forcing him to remain awake. He vaguely wondered what the others were in for, selfishly believing that none of their situations were as dire as hers. As the most well known couple in Storybrooke, naturally David and Mary Margaret attracted lots of questions. None that they could answer without bursting into tears or fists curling or faces hardening.

Around nine, the doors finally opened. A blond man came out, white coat splattered with red. Hook tried not to look at the dark color staining the bright white fabric, swallowing back the bile that burned the back of his throat.

Much like when they'd arrived at the hospital, Mary Margaret and David were full of questions.

"Dr. Whale. How is she?" Mary Margaret asked.

Hook could immediately see that there was no point in asking. Whale's face was drawn in a way that had nothing to do with fatigue. He refrained from saying so, though, knowing full well that hope was the most important thing one could possess.

"She's out of surgery." He began. "You should sit." He gestured to the plastic chairs that they'd been occupying for the last hours.

"We've sat enough. How is my daughter?" Mary Margaret demanded.

"As you may know, she received a gunshot wound to the chest. She coded about five minutes after she was brought into the ER." Whale began. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down.

"What the bloody hell does coded mean?" Hook cut in.

"It means her heart stopped. We were able to revive it before bringing her in for surgery. She was lucky enough that the bullet just nicked the artery. However…" He stopped, signing in such a way that seemed to cause his entire body to deflate.

"However what?" David growled. "This is my daughter's life we're talking about, Whale."

"She was without oxygen for six minutes. So there's a chance Emma won't wake up."