#cc fic

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love… I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Gods, that was sappy. Lidia’s cheeks turn into a bright red at the sight of the handsome actor on the screen, and she cuddles closer to Ruhn. Ruhn isn’t fond of this kind of romantic lovey-dovey movie, but he always caves in to watch it with his mate. Only to see her eyes glimmer as she swore she wasn’t crying, or see her squirm on the seat beside him when a heated scene came up. It was some kind of unspoken rule in their relationship. She watches sunball with him, and he watches her romantic movies. That’s how it works between them.

Well, watch.

He is supposed to be watching the movie right now. But sleep had rushed through him mere minutes after his long fingers had started to thread through Lidia’s silky golden hair. He had traced the length of her blond curls and his eyelids instantly grew heavy. He can’t help it. Lidia’s locks are just so soft. It is nearly impossible for him, or anyone else, to not feel relaxed and sleepy while combing her hair.

Lidia’s peers up at Ruhn in hope to get his insight on her favorite movie scene, her golden eyes still wet from how emotional this scene makes her every damn time. She pouts, a bit disappointed to find Ruhn’s eyes closed and his chest rising and falling slowly, steadily. How can someone fall asleep so quickly? She clicks her tongue, her eyes rolling and she lifts her hand to Ruhn’s face to flick his nose, in hope to wake him up. Her hand freezes, and she feels like she has just been struck by lightning. She grunts, and clutches her stomach tightly, curling into a ball between Ruhn’s legs.

Lidia mentally curses, blaming Cthona for the pulsing pain in her womb. Tears were burning her eyes. The blond-haired Fea female sinks her teeths in her lower lip to choke back her whimpers. She bites it so hard that it pierces open, and she can taste the saltiness of her own blood on her tongue. Silent as a mouse, Lidia unfolds her legs from her fetal position. She can't wake Ruhn up. Then she feels it. What she dreaded the most. That familiar stickiness pooling between her thighs. She needs to get up, to push through the pain, and hurry to the bathroom. Now.

What if… What if... What if…

Unfounded fear settles in her gut as she starts to make up the worst scenarios of Ruhn’s reaction when he would learn that she dirtied his expensive-looking couch. Her legs shake weakly as she rolls to her side, contracting her muscles to stand up. She scolds herself. She should’ve kept track of her menstrual cycle. She should’ve known it was coming. If only she hadn’t been too lost in the frenzy of hers and Ruhn’s love affair… Her stomach churns, it’s her fault, all of it. She feels gross.

You stupid bitch…

"Look at what you did," Pollux gripped Lidia's gold locks and forced her face on the couch. The little breath she was able to get was invaded by the metallic stench of blood that was stained on the couch. It was an accident. Her punishment? Being suffocated into the cushion as if she was a pup having her nose rubbed in for urinating on the furniture. Lidia's oxygen was limited, and spots appeared in her vision. This was how she would die. Before her lungs gave out, Pollux yanked her head back as she gasped for air. "You stupid bitch."

She forces air through her lungs as she tries to stand on her wobbly legs. Sweat is coating her forehead, and her gaze lands on the bathroom door. Five more steps. She can do this. She’s been through worse. Lidia doesn’t dare look behind her, too afraid to see the copper stain she might’ve left there.

You stupid bitch…

Tears blurries her vision, and she can feel them tracing patterns as they slide down her cheeks. She takes a first step, then attempts a second one. Her stomach churns from the overwhelming distress and pain in her body. She sobs, heaves, and with the remaining strength she has left, she collapses on her knees, in the bathroom doorway. She wastes no time, ang crawls to the toilet. Her peripheral vision narrows as bile falls out of her mouth. She had managed to reach for the toilet bowl, at least she didn’t make another mess. Her fingers painfully grips onto the toilet seat, her knuckles turning white. She tries to ground herself, to breathe, to calm down.

“Lidia..?”

Ruhn. Her stomach flips, and she tries to keep her nausea at bay. Her breathing is getting shallow and her heart is beating so fast, so loud, that she can herself hear it. Ruhn wastes no time, and tug on his hair tie in one swift movement, using it to tie Lidia's hair in a ponytail as fast as he can, before they fall into the toilet. He kneels right behind her, caging her between his knees, his left hand rubbing circles on her lower back in an attempt to sooth her tense muscles. His other hand strokes her white knuckles as she holds on for dear life onto the freezing toilet seat.

Oh, Ruhn.

“Look at you,” Pollux growled behind her, and she tried her best not to flinch. She closed her eyes, waiting for her lover's rage to fall onto her. Like the rock that the waves keep crashing over. “On your knees like a good little bitch, cleaning up your,” He paused, and Lidia could imagine him clearly, scrunching his nose in disgust and clenching his fists. “Mess.”

She wanted to apologize, she should've. But the words stayed tucked deep down in her throat. The smell of bleach burnt her nostrils before she could feel it scorch the soft skin of her hands. She jumped back, the towel she was holding fell from her aching hands. She stumbled back against Pollux's chest, and was quickly slammed back down on her knees. She felt her knee pads wobble from the harsh impact. The Hammer held her hair tightly, so tight that she could feel some hair detaching from her burning scalp as he pushed her back down on her aching knees. “Stop whining,” Pollux snarled, shaking the remnants of the chemical onto the couch. Everything burned, her eyes, her nostrils, her hands, her lungs… “Clean,” He spat, his voice held no mercy. And he walked out of the room before she could apologize for something she had no control over.

She should've been more careful. She would be next time. She would track her cycle properly.

What a stupid bitch…

“Fuck, why are your… feminine products so far away,” Ruhn’s hand stays still on her back, as he stretches his arm towards the sink cabinet. His rummaging makes the bottles, and different products bump against one another, some of them landing on the floor. Lidia groans, wiping her mouth as she tries, but fails to move from in front of the toilet to help Ruhn. “Ah, got em’.” Ruhn states, holding the pink envelope of a pad in his hand, smiling proudly.

“Ruhn, it's…” She tears up, and shakes her head. The hormones, she tries to convince herself that it’s the only reason for her emotional turmoil. She swallows, and stands up, wincing. She needs to clean up the couch. To get into clean clothes, and put this pad on. Ruhn stands close to her, his hands on her hips, steading her, the menstrual pad still in hand. “Don’t touch me, I'm gross,” She chokes out, tears clouding her vision. Pathetic. She was acting pathetic. Her cycle, and suffering wasn't Ruhn's problem.

And yet he still cares…

He shouldn't. She doesn't deserve that.

What a stupid bitch…

“Hey…” Ruhn’s frown deepens, and he holds her closer to him, rocking her from side to side as she sobs. Her breathing is incredibly fast. And her eyes… Her beautiful gold eyes look dark, so dark, she seems to be stuck in a bad memory, somewhere so far away… He sways her slowly from side to side, placing soft kisses on the top of her head. “Would a bath sound nice, maybe?” He murmurs against her hairline, his nose humming the delicious scent of her shampoo. She feels gross, so maybe a bath would help her to feel better in her skin, he guesses.

A bath… A bath… No, the couch. She needs to clean her mess first. Gross, she feels so grossed out of herself.

Lidia’s thoughts are reeling, her body so stiff, frozen in shock. She is still unused to such kindness in that type of situation. She snaps back into reality when she hears the water run from the faucet. Ruhn keeps his arms protectively draped around her, his concerned glance fixed on her face. Her rapidly moving chest meets his steady one with every breath she tries to take. She finally manages to copy Ruhn’s breathing, and she can now hear better, see better, and the pain was a bit more bearable too. “Bath?” Ruhn asks again, staring into the honey depths of Lidia’s eyes. She was here, safe, with him, out of these horrific thoughts.

“The couch,” She swallows down, trying to lube her dry and sore throat. She tries to slip away from Run's comforting, and oh so warm arms. “You’d prefer to rest on the couch?” Ruhn asks, trying to figure out what his girlfriend needs from the little glimpse of information she mumbles to him. She bites her cheek at the thought of Ruhn’s couch, her eyes filling with tears again. Ruhn rubs his thumbs on her arms slowly, the worry for his mate is written all over his face. “No, I need to clean the couch.” She blurts out.

The couch. The couch. She made a mess. What a stupid bitch. The couch…

Ruhn stills, and his eyes narrow as he tries to figure out where all this nonsense and panic comes from. He wonders how he could have ever made her believe that he cared more for such material things than her well-being and comfort. “No, I'll just buy a cleaning spell later,” He murmurs, confused at Lidia’s panicked state. Has he done something wrong? He doesn't like it for one bit that his mate looks so terrified around him. He sighs and presses a kiss on the top of her head. “Bathe, Lidia. Or rest. Is it because you'd prefer to just change and rest? I didn't mean to force you into doing anything.”

Lidia sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. Ruhn moves one of his hands to cradle her face against his chest. Lidia feels like if it wasn't from Ruhns's love and tender hold, her heart would have shattered completely from the weight of her guilt and self-disgust.

“Please,” Ruhn pleads, his fingers brushing away her tears. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“I just… I dirtied your couch. I should've kept track of my cycle. I'm such a,” She hiccups, her throat feeling so tight, “Such a,” Such a stupid bitch, she wants to say, but the words refuse to come out. Only sobs and incoherent babbling fall from her lips.

Everything makes sense for Ruhn, then.

Fucking Pollux.

Ruhn cuts her off with a soft caress of his lips against hers. Now is not the time for him to be angry at Pollux. He needs to be calm, and reassuring, for his Lidia. He takes a deep breath. “Hey, no. Gods, Lidia no…” Ruhn holds up her chin so his eyes can dive deep in hers. He doesn't want her to feel bad around him. Especially not over something she has absolutely no control of. He hates it. Hates the one that has carved nonsense into her brain even more. Only time would undo the mental and emotional damage Pollux had caused.

“You are such a strong and beautiful female,” He smiles softly down at her, turning off the faucet, his eyes not leaving her puffy and red ones even for one second. His hands slide under her shirt, tracing her ribs slowly. He looks into her eyes, silently asking for her permission. Lidia nods, her blond curls bouncing on her shoulders as she does, and he lifts her shirt off. “My strong and beautiful mate…” He whispers, kissing away her tears as he helps her out of the rest of her clothes.

Lidia absent-mindedly watches Ruhn as he gently picks her up, and settles her nude body in the tub. Her muscles relax with the heat of the water. Her whole skin welcomed the warmth, too, making it feel like she was receiving a peaceful hug. She closes her eyes and leans back her hand in Ruhn's palms as he starts to rub shampoo through her sweat coated hair. She rubs her stomach, trying to ease the pain of her cramps and the guilt lingering there.

“You've done nothing wrong,” Ruhn's voice breaks through the silence. “It was an accident. I love you. It's not your fault," He adds.

“I'm so–” “Don't.” He says, his tone slightly harsh, and he hated himself for how Lidia flinches. He shakes his head, his fingers still massaging the shampoo on her scalp. He sighs, “Don't be sorry. Please. You have nothing to be sorry about. Not with me.” She nods, tilting her head back a little bit more so Ruhn could rinse her hair. The shampoo tickles her ears as the water falls on her head, and she sinks in the comfort and reassuring presence of her mate.

Ruhn rubs every surface of her fair skin with a cleaning glove. Lidia almost starts crying again at the look of pure love and adoration shining in the blue eyes she loved so much. He wasn't disgusted, of her, or her femininity. He loves her, and admires her as a person. The deer shifter's heart flutters at this sight.

“I love you, Lidia. Like, a lot,” Ruhn chuckles slightly to ease the atmosphere, lightening Lidia’s heavy heart. “And I want you to be comfortable with me. I know it'll take time. But let's just start with like,” He halts, his eyebrows frowning as he tries to figure out where they could start. He grins when suddenly, an idea pops up in his head. “Keeping your feminine products at easy reach in the cabinet? It would be a good start. Okay?” He winks at her, replacing the things in the cabinet, putting the box of pads and tampons in front of everything, so it’s easy for her, or him, to reach when needed.

The realization feels like a kick in Lidia’s guts. She doesn't have to hide them anymore.

Not with Ruhn.

My strong and beautiful mate.

Ruhn's words thrums in her ears, and the sight of his eyes filled with all the beautiful emotions he feels towards her dances in her mind, replacing all negative thoughts and fear that Pollux had once pushed there.

She smiles, truly smiles, and nods, the water sloshing around her as she brings her knees to her chest. “Okay.”

My strong and beautiful mate...

1. In general, I’m trying to limit how much I anthropomorphize the sticks– I’d mention hands, but not fingers; if they haven’t been drawn with eyes (i.e. are not TCO, TDL, TSC, or the crossover sticks), I try to avoid mentioning eyes when discussing their expression; if they haven’t been drawn with mouths, I avoid mentioning mouth bits. I broke the rules and mentioned TCO having teeth, and describing others as biting things, though. :(

I also let them bleed for dramatic effect, but whether or not it’s red and acts like normal blood is up to you.

That said, I believe canonically the sticks have our sensory organs, just invisible to us, but since they’re invisible to us, mentioning them can temporarily jar me out of a fic— the one that really gets me for no reason is mentioning hair. (A personal preference.)

2. I tried to be deliberate with the names other people used for each other, which may differ from how they think of themselves.

For example, Alan and the CG all call TSC "Orange" (even Orange themself), but Chosen calls them "Second," as he's a bit more distant and doesn't know much about Orange and their nicknames. Agent and victim call TSC by their full name, as they are at even more of a social distance.

Dark is the only person to call Chosen "Cho", and Chosen doesn't really append the "One" or prepend the "The". Verbally, most people don't include "the" as part of the name because I, the author, think it looks clunky as dialogue, but Agent would probably include the "the" in his internal narration, though.

Speaking of "the," Chosen dropping "the" from Agent's name in Ch. 4 was not me getting tired of writing it out. It's supposed to be indicative of Chosen's changing opinion of the guy, where "Agent" goes from being Smith's epithet to his name, in Chosen's mind. I'd actually considered making the switch in Ch. 3, but 3 is more of the catalyst for the change, so I pushed it back.

3. I considered writing the victim interlude in lapslock, but that just leaves more room for mistakes and is harder (for me) to read, so I didn't. I also considered starting out with victim narrating their name as "Victim", then "victim", and then "the victim" as they start to spiral, but the capitalized version is inconsistent with how I'm approaching their attitude towards their name, so the first stage was dropped.

4. Finally— victim’s power. It’s actually a protracted computer memory joke. :)

(victim wasn’t saved (“written to memory”) in their first death, and now has trouble being written to everyone else’s person-memory.

On that note, victim being recovered from being “deleted” is computationally plausible, probably more so than being recovered from being unsaved. Standard computer deletion doesn’t get rid of data, it just marks it as junk that can be overwritten. Since victim was recovered quickly, there wasn’t much time to be overwritten.)

The initial concept is that victim is extra-forgettable to the Becker sticks (as Alan's PC was where they were deleted), but that got sorta dropped? Not super great for writing a story where victim’s missing— if I had a longer fic where vic’s working in the shadows, I might have included that, and had the Becker sticks have conspicuous gaps in memory as part of a side-plot.

This actually was come up with before AVA 11 came out and victim's full backstory was unknown, so it really was just a memory joke, with the hypothesis that victim’s grey color came from not being saved, and that there may be other lingering effects; but with the information we got in AVA 11, here’s sort of how I think the development of the power went down.

Being unsaved planted the seed of the power in victim; throughout their many deaths, victim sort of acquired an internal mantra of “don’t notice me, don’t look at me,” which helped solidify the power. Of course, it didn’t work on Alan. In their escape, getting so tangled up with Mitsi’s life particles gave Mitsi some natural resistance to victim’s ability (because, TBF, if Mitsi wasn’t immune, I don’t think victim would have the survival skills to make it). Breaking through the Sky Tiles really messed victim and their code up (I mean, it even changed how their head was animated), and made their memorability problem worse.

As a treat(?) for reading this— holy cow 3k+ word— ramble, here’s the first thing I wrote for the AU to play around with the idea, made defunct by AVA 11! And yes I fill in parts I don’t want to write with carets.

<Scene: Vic leading Agent into figuring out his power><Some sort of lead in> The boss snorted softly, and tipped over the nameplate they kept on their desk, as if anyone could forget that this was the boss’s office.

“All right, Agent,” said the boss, “What’s my name?”

“Sir,” Agent said, “I’ve worked for you for over a year. I know who you–”

“My name, Agent Smith.”

Agent sighed. “It’s…” he trailed off. He should know it. The boss made no effort to hide their identity. It was just on the tip of his tongue– why didn’t he know it? Something was wrong.

“Precisely,” said the boss, a touch sardonic.

Agent’s brow furrowed, the boss had introduced themself; they had tracked him down and given him a tech demo– they’d said their name was…

“It’s V… It’s Vic–” once again Agent paused. That wasn’t the boss’s whole name. Thinking back on it, he’d thought that the boss’d had an odd name, but…

“...huh,” said the boss, “Most people don’t get that far.” They tipped the nameplate back up so that Agent could read their name again.

Ah right, that was their name. No wonder Agent thought it was odd.

“Apparently,” said the boss, “I just have one of those faces. The forgettable kind. As well as that sort of name, personality, and personal history.”

“I don’t think that’s… normal,” Agent said, slowly.

“Assuredly not.”

<Agent leaves>

The walk back to camp was mostly silent.

But not in a tense way.

Hook both reveled in the fact that he was still alive, and the fact that the silence between himself and David was actually comfortable.

He wasn't exactly sure which of the two stunned him more.

Most of the journey to Dead Man's Peak was a blur, but Hook had nearly no recollection at all of actually reaching the top. Something he'd experienced many times after a few too many draughts of rum.

But the moment he'd come to after the water healed him, seeing David struck Hook with a strong sense of familiarity. A sense of loyalty and partnership. Like someone he knew.

Only after David had mentioned Liam, had it clicked.

Not days ago, Hook had the fleeting sense of familiarity with David, that the prince and Liam both had that brash, impulsive over-confidence.

But their similarities didn't stop there.

Liam was also loyal and heroic and brave.

And David was almost more so than Liam had been.

David had saved Hook's life.

Something he didn't have to do.

He'd cut through that Dreamshade, at risk of his own life, for Hook.

As uncomfortable as it was to think that he had mistaken David for Liam…

It also wasn't surprising.

But that wasn't the only thing on Hook's mind, knowing what had transpired in the time he couldn't remember.

Because Hook knew for sure that he hadn't told David how to find the spring at the top of Dead Man's Peak.

Yet, even then, when Hook was apparently bloody delirious, David still hadn't given up on him.

The last time Hook had a person—a friend—a partner that refused to give up on him…

…was Liam.

Hook still couldn't quite believe that, only hours ago, David had struck him, viewing him as utter scum of the realms, and would probably have killed him himself after one more snide comment.

Yet even when Hook was too far gone to save himself, David hadn't stopped trying.

He'd saved his life.

And the part that Hook still couldn't fathom, was that when the Dreamshade was healed, David looked relieved.

It wasn't just about David feeling that he owed Hook for saving Emma's life.

"I was wrong about you."

The idea of being accepted by not only hero types, but the most heroic types there were?

By David?

Prince bloody Charming?

It was something that Hook knew he would honor for the rest of his days.

But as they approached the camp, a fleeting thought slipped through Hook's mind, that the only thing he could want more than David's acceptance…

…was Emma's.

-.-.-.-.

Approaching the camp, Hook and David walked through the leaves, only to find a sword, arrow and ball of fire aimed at them.

"It's just us," said David, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"David!" cried the Queen, and she dropped her weapon to hug her husband. David held her back just as tightly.

Emma, letting out a breath of relief, sheathed her sword, and Regina, seeming reluctant, put out her fire.

And Hook felt himself freeze for a second, seeing Emma before him, a rush of relief washing through him.

For when he'd left here, he was almost certain he wouldn't be coming back.

That he would never see her again.

The urge to embrace her now was blinding.

Emma's gaze shifted from Hook to her father and back, her eyebrow hitching up. "Where's the sextant?"

Hook hesitated, his eyes finding David's, as they both seemed to realize that they forgot about coming up with a story.

Though, they'd been a little preoccupied earlier with making sure they'd even need a story.

"Ah…" began Hook, scratching behind his ear, carefully not meeting her eyes as he lied, "I'm afraid Pan got to it first."

Emma's face fell a little. "Oh."

A wave of disappointment ran through the three of them.

But then, David spoke.

"Hook saved my life."

Hook's head snapped up as everyone looked at David in surprise.

Emma looked between David and Hook, brows raised high. "What?"

David's gaze on Hook, he repeated, "Hook saved my life." With a grin, he said, "On our trek, we were ambushed by Lost Boys." Mary Margaret gasped a little, taking his arm. "Pinned down, outnumbered," David went on. "But Hook…" His gaze turned to him again. "He risked his life to stop me from getting hit by a poisoned arrow. If it wasn't for Hook…" David hesitated, then said, "Well, our group would be leaving here a person short." Smiling genuinely, even more so at Hook's shock, David finished, "I thought he deserved a little credit."

Surprised gazes turned to Hook, but none more so than Hook's himself.

"Thank you," said Hook, words barely audible.

And to Hook's surprise, the Queen embraced him.

Hook's brows shot high in even more surprise.

She pulled back before he could figure out what to do in response, and gave him a look as genuine as David's. "Thank you, Hook."

Utterly speechless, Hook only managed a nod.

She returned to David, Regina rolled her eyes at them all and walked away, and…

It left Hook alone with Emma.

He half expected her to walk away with them, but instead, she was staring at him oddly.

"What?" he managed.

"If I didn't know any better," she said wryly, "I'd say that you and David were—how do you say it?" Assuming his accent: "Mates."

And Hook felt the hint of a smile at his own lips, for that actually felt like it was true.

"You really risked your life like that?" asked Emma, smile fading for something a little heavier.

Swallowing, matching her depth, Hook said carefully, "Aye." Something even richer in his eyes, he met hers. "However, what I did…" he said slowly, "I did for you."

Emma blinked, seeing the absolute truth in his eyes.

For it was true.

Emma suddenly had a look of panic in her eyes, so small, barely-there, that looked like that of a frightened animal.

It was a look Hook remembered from the Beanstalk, right before she'd left him there.

When he knew she felt something for him, trusted him, yet only now understood, terrified her.

That look was in her eyes now.

Hook had danced around his feelings for her, never truly coming out and honestly telling her in a serious manner that he cared for her.

Not until now.

But he had quite literally almost died mere hours ago.

He was done just surviving.

If he was going to live, he was going to live.

And he didn't want to do it without her.

Perhaps, then, the first step to winning her heart… was telling her he was trying to.

So, he held her gaze, hoping that his desperate hope wasn't painfully obvious.

She held his gaze, seeming to be at war with herself.

But it was the first time that he could see past those walls of hers.

Something changed in Emma's eyes.

A decision made.

And just as Hook knew he wouldn't be able to handle her walking away from him this time…

She kissed him.

One second she was standing before him, the next she was grabbing the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to her with the same desperation that he felt in his own chest.

Emma.

Emma.

Her lips met his, his eyes fell shut, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist, pulling her to him, his hand tangling in her hair, feeling rushing through his body that felt more euphoric than the Neverland water had.

Because the water may have healed Dreamshade, but Emma?

Emma healed him.

It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

She was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

Suddenly everything around them was lost except for them, a dream he's had for weeks suddenly coming bloody true, all the hints of emotions he's read in her eyes that she's never voiced he could hear her say now.

And he lost himself in her, never having felt more alive.

They pulled away as one, eyes opening, and he saw her inches from his face, looking into his eyes.

He felt paralyzed, arm still around her waist, fingers still in her hair, and her hands still clutching his jacket to her.

Hook barely managed to find his voice. "That was…"

Bloody hell there weren't words to describe it.

But Emma seemed to find ones, for he watched the walls attempt to build back up in her eyes, and she breathed, "A one-time thing."

And she let him go, moving away from him, and Hook had to convince his arms to let her.

"Don't follow me. Wait five minutes." she breathed, still out of breath, walking back to the others.

"As you wish," he whispered, just as breathlessly, seeing a hitch in her walk before she continued on.

Hook let out a shuddering breath, fingers resting on his lips, which were still alive with feeling. Her.

And he felt the ghost of a smile at his lips.

Because Emma wasn't the only one who was good at reading lies.

That kiss—this, between them—wasn't a one-time thing.

And he couldn't bloody wait for the second time.

-.-.-.-.

Hook had waited his five minutes, and was on his way back to camp when David suddenly appeared, walking toward him.

Suddenly going tense, Hook inwardly winced.

As much as he and David had found an understanding with each other, perhaps even a friendship, he highly doubted that included David's acceptance of Hook with his daughter.

"Hook," said David, giving him a grin.

Trying to shake away his nerves, Hook stopped, saying, "Thank you. For… what you said."

"I meant it," said David honestly. "You deserved credit."

Hook smiled a little.

"Also," said David, something unreadable in his eyes. "It's okay with me."

Hook's brows kneaded. "What is?"

But David was looking at him with a sort of look, like he knew something.

Then—

"Emma and Snow have the same… smitten look, you know."

David smirked.

Hook froze.

With a sigh, his smile losing the amusement, but trading for something more meaningful, David said, "If you and she… become anything…" He sighed, but never lost the tilt to his lips. "Well, it's all right with me."

Hook couldn't remember how to speak.

David smirked a little at his reaction, however not in an unkind way.

And even though Hook's fingers found their way to that spot behind his ear to itch away the lingering nerves, he found a smile breaking out on his own face.

He had David's acceptance.

Not just as a person.

Not just as a friend.

But as the father to the only woman Hook would ever want for the rest of his days.

For the first time since Hook had lost Milah, he suddenly felt something he thought he'd never feel again.

Happy.

"And Hook," said David, tearing Hook from his thoughts. "We will find a way to get you off this island alive." Something even more genuine, deeper in David's eyes. "You're coming home with us."

The word home sent a warmth in Hook's eyes that could melt ice.

And those words… it wasn't just David's acceptance.

They were a promise.

Hook, at a complete loss for words, simply nodded his thanks.

David smiled, seeming to hear everything Hook didn't say, and he clapped a hand on his shoulder.

And suddenly Hook was flashing back, centuries.

To Liam, who had once used to do the same gesture.

David smiled again, and walked back to camp.

Hook stood alone, yet felt the furthest thing from it.

For Dreamshade may have taken his brother from him…

But it also just gave him another.

-.-.-.-.

:)