#untied

Emma felt the hair on the back of her neck rise with instinct. The darkness of the night didn't help with the ominous feeling.

The trailer wasn't here before Tamara showed up to town, and it was a small town. It wasn't from here.

Emma's flashlight beam caught it, glinting off the metal. Lapping waves of the ocean were the only sound in the air. The moonlight was bright, illuminating the area well enough without the flashlight now that she was close.

She walked around the trailer, gun out in front of her, but no one was around. She relaxed a bit.

There was a single padlock on the door, and Emma grabbed the lock picks from her back pocket, getting to work on it.

Once it clicked, she pulled it off, and yanked open the door.

And there, tied to a chair, was Hook.

Emma felt her jaw drop.

Hook winced away the moment the door opened, but at the sight of her, his eyes widened identically.

Hook was tied tightly to the chair, not one limb free. His hook was missing and there was a gag tight in his mouth. Blackening bruises stood out on his face, in a pattern that could have only come from a fist.

"Hook?" breathed Emma.

He made a muffled sound, jerking in the chair, shutting his eyes when his attempts were unsuccessful.

Emma rushed forward, shaking fingers working to untie the gag around his mouth. Once she freed him from it, he breathed hard. "Bloody hell," he croaked. "What the—" began Emma, still in shock. "Who did this to you?"

"Woman… Tamara," said Hook raggedly.

Tamara.

Tamara.

She knew it.

The only question was why—

But she'll answer that later.

"How long have you been here?" asked Emma, feeling the slightest bit of concern inch into her words, seeing just how tired he looked.

"Not sure," whispered Hook. "Two days?"

By the look of him, that sounded about right. Tamara got to Storybrooke almost three days ago. Hook was pale, exhausted and sounded like he'd barely had any water.

Emma moved to untie him, but paused, then said, "I want to help you. But…"

The last time she'd seen him was days ago, after she'd locked him in the closet of Neal's building.

"I will not be a danger to you, Swan," he managed tiredly, and he certainly sounded like he wouldn't be able to manage the energy to even be an irritation, let alone danger. "Won't knock you out and lock you in a tiny room, if that's what you're asking," he added, a slight edge to his voice.

Scratch that. He does have the energy to irritate her.

"You want to argue or you want to call a truce?" said Emma impatiently.

Hook blinked tiredly. Then, "Truce."

She got to work untying his legs. "Why the hell did she do this to you?" she asked, freeing his left ankle.

"She wants my assistance," he said, voice just barely slurring with exhaustion, "in exchange for helping me kill the Crocodile. Whom you just had to save." There was the edge again. But it sounded more hurt than anything. "You realize he's a bloody demon," he muttered. "You know how hard it will be to get another chance?"

"What happened to our truce?" muttered Emma, trying not to feel guilty for something she hadn't been happy doing. Saving Gold was not enjoyable and watching Mary Maragaret tear herself apart for her part in it wasn't either.

"My apologies," he said half-heartedly. "Aye, we settled on a truce."

As she freed his right ankle, Emma huffed, "To be honest, I didn't want to save him."

"No?"

Emma could tell Hook wasn't completely in his right mind, almost drunk with exhaustion and perhaps a concussion.

"No," agreed Emma, moving to his left forearm. "But we'll talk about it later. Do you know if she's coming back?"

"Not until dawn." said Hook softly.

Emma felt herself relax a little. She finished untying him in silence. Even when he was free, he didn't get up.

"Hook?" asked Emma hesitantly.

"Mm?" he mumbled, eyes blinking open.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

Hook blinked again, delayed giving her a nod. Then he went to stand, grimacing as he moved. He made it to his feet, but stumbled with weakness the moment he did. Emma was inches away and caught him with surprise.

"Bloody—" he gasped, trying to right himself. Emma had grabbed him by the arm, but it wasn't enough. She quickly moved closer, grabbing him around the back as he leaned his weight into her. It was his silence that told Emma he was serious; he didn't make one comment about having her so close to him.

Now worried more about his condition, Emma helped him walk, saying, "My car isn't far."

"Car?" he echoed, stiffly walking.

"Transportation; vessel; boat that moves on land. Carriage without horses. The thing that hit you the other day," Emma deadpanned.

He tensed a little, and Emma was surprised to feel his sudden fear at the thought. She wouldn't have thought Captain Hook was afraid of anything.

By the time they made it to the bug, Hook was leaning heavily on her and panting. Emma leaned him against the car to open the passenger door. "Get in."

He opened his eyes tiredly to look at it warily.

Emma sighed aloud and took his arm gently, guiding him into the seat. Thankfully he was too weak to protest and only groaned a little when he was inside and she shut the door.

Emma got into her driver's seat and started the car, the sound of the engine making Hook jump.

But soon she was driving to the loft and along the way, his eyes shut and didn't open again.

She spent most of the drive wondering how the hell she was supposed to explain bringing home a pirate to her parents.

-.-.-.

"Hook."

Hook felt a groan escape him, someone shaking him lightly. The bloody non-magical witch from New York City was one he'd far underestimated, for she's broken several of his bones and given him the likes of a concussion. She'd found him in the small room, tied by someone he could only guess was Emma. The Tamara woman had used something, some small black box that hurt like the bloody devil to knock him out again, and kept him in this metal cell on wheels like a bloody pet.

Needless to say, he went from being thrown back onto the revenge track he should have finally done away with, to adding her to the list.

But with all the time to think in that dark metal contraption, he was becoming more and more sure that he was growing very tired of chasing revenge.

"Hook."

This shake was harder, and his teeth snapped together to bite down a harsher groan, broken bones grinding against each other, but it was finally enough to convince his eyes to open.

He went rigid, only lighting up the pain and the strained muscles more, expecting to see Tamara, but instead, he was in a different metal contraption, this one smaller, and with windows. It was dark outside them, and Hook blinked a few times, trying to make out the surroundings.

"Finally," huffed a tired-sounding, familiar voice to his left.

Hook flinched at her voice, clearly a few steps behind thanks to the concussion, and he snapped his head around to see Emma Swan sitting beside him, looking at him with something between exasperation and concern. Her hand had still been on his shoulder, but at his flinch, she swallowed hard, removing her hand, suddenly looking unsure.

"Swan?" he rasped, shutting his eyes as the fast movement made his head swim.

"Yeah," she said just as quietly.

"Where am I?" he managed to mutter, too tired for any wordplay, or even expressing his fury with her for preventing his best chance of killing the Crocodile.

"In my car," she said. At his confusion, his furrowed brows at the unfamiliar word, she said, "Vessel. Transportation—do I really have to go through this again?"

"Ah," he whispered, but his muscles were still taut, still unsure. He had no idea where they stood at the moment, and he didn't have the energy to run or fight if she were planning to incarcerate him or something of the sort.

And he sighed, suddenly wondering if he cared anymore.

He was so bloody tired, from more than just his captivity and the concussion.

"Hey," came her voice again, making him open his eyes again. "Don't pass out again. I need to get you upstairs and I can't carry you."

More confusion hitched his brow. He looked at her. "You need to what?"

"Tamara is going to find out you're missing soon," said Emma seriously. "I will hide you, but you're gonna have to help me. So, don't pass out," she repeated. She opened her door, but none of her words made sense.

"You're going to what?" repeated Hook, a little more lucidity in his voice, and she paused, looking back at him. "Why are you helping me?" he asked weakly.

Emma hesitated, biting her lip like she wasn't quite clear on that herself. "Just don't pass out and don't make me regret it." With that, she got out of the vessel, and shut her door.

Seconds later, Hook felt the wall he'd been half-resting on move, and he nearly fell. He heard a "Damn—" from Emma, and her hands caught him, steadying him as he grimaced at her touch—he'd forgotten just how much he'd been thrown around by the Tamara woman until Emma's fingers woke the pain.

"Hook?"

He blinked his eyes open, realizing that she was still half-holding him, keeping him from falling. And it was only then he realized how out of it he'd been seconds ago.

"There's a step," she said, brows creased. "Can you get out?"

She was speaking to him like he was a bloody invalid.

Yet the fact that she was the first person to show him care in over two hundred years numbed the sting to his pride.

He answered with movement, shifting to get his boot on the ground, managing to get out of the metal contraption with Emma's help. He was more than unsteady on his feet—no doubt the thirst and hunger warping his balance just as much as the concussion—but he managed to shut his eyes and will himself to stay upright. He hissed a little as broken bones shifted.

At her whisper of his name—his moniker, really, he doubted she remembered he had a name—Hook's eyes opened, and he found her very close. Her arm was wrapped around his back tightly as he swayed, her face inches from his, looking at him worriedly.

It made him pause, surprised to see that much worry from her.

But he chalked it up to the damn hero types, and gestured a weak nod forward, and they began to walk.

Hook let her lead, as it was far too hard to think, let alone keep his eyes open. Her arm only tightened around him as he stumbled nearly every step.

-.-.-.

Emma was out of breath by the time they got to the door to the loft.

Her arm was burning from the effort of holding up more than half of Hook's weight. By this point he was listing badly into her with each step, and they barely managed the staircase as it was.

"Still with me?" asked Emma with a grimace, shifting him to knock on the door incessantly and please let David still be at the station…

"Aye," came his hollow reply, his voice so weak. Emma had never thought Hook's voice could sound so… so…

Human.

Swallowing down the rush of uncomfortable emotions, Emma waited until the door opened.

"Emma," began Mary Margaret. "You're home la—" But she froze, seeing Hook practically clinging onto Emma's frame. "What on earth—?" she began in shock.

"I'll explain in a second," said Emma quickly, "but I need you to help me. He's heavy."

Hook grunted in weak annoyance, almost petulantly, at her choice of words, and it made Mary Margaret flinch a little, seeming to have thought he was nearly unconscious. But after a moment of hesitation, she acquiesced, taking Hook's other side. Wariness slid through her eyes, but before she could snap out of her hesitation, Hook muttered tiredly, "In no condition to attack you, milady."

Mary Margaret winced a little at her obviousness, but took his other side. She and Emma walked him to the couch, slowly easing him to lie down. Hook's face screwed up as he did, his hand flying to his abdomen, a low groan slipping through his teeth.

"Is Henry home?" asked Emma, suddenly worried she'd have a lot of explaining to do.

"No, he's not," she said, staring at Emma like she was crazy. "Emma, what—?"

Okay… a lot more explaining to do.

"I found him tied up in a van on the outskirts of town," she said. "Tamara was keeping him captive."

Mary Margaret's jaw dropped. "Tamara?" she echoed incredulously. "You're—you're sure?"

"Bloody positive," muttered Hook tiredly, and they both turned to see his eyes half-open, like he was barely following their conversation.

"Emma…" began Mary Margaret, a touch of guilt in her voice.

Emma didn't exactly have time for an I told you so speech, and also didn't have time to be annoyed that she and David didn't believe her in the first place.

"Later," she said, looking back at Hook. "She'll know he's missing in a few hours. We'll have to hide him here. Whatever she's planning can't be good."

"Something to do with Regina," said Hook, voice slurred with exhaustion.

Emma felt herself sinking to the edge of the coffee table next to him. "We'll figure it out," she said, voice coming out strangely gentle. "Get some rest."

His eyes lingered on hers for a long moment, like he found that quality in her voice to be surprising too.

But not a moment later, he listened, slipping into unconsciousness.

-.-.-.

"…Hook?"

Emma bit her lip. The pirate was unconscious, again. Only this time it was on her couch.

And damn it, was it strange to see the leather-clad pirate passed out in her freaking house.

"Emma," came Mary Margaret's whisper.

Emma took a breath, then got up from the coffee table, and met Mary Margaret a few yards away.

"What on earth are you thinking?" asked Mary Margaret, brows shooting up. "You bring Hook here?!"

"I… he's hurt, and… and whatever Tamara's using him for can't be good. He's more useful in our hands than hers."

In all honesty, she hadn't been thinking about strategy. She hadn't thought much at all since opening that trailer and finding him tied up in the back.

All she saw was someone hurting, and suddenly she was guiding him to her car and helping him onto her couch.

But the mention of Tamara made Mary Margaret fall silent with a guilt that ran through her eyes. She swallowed hard, seeming to force the words. "I'm sorry."

The apology didn't quite work when it was Mary Margaret's faith Emma had wanted. But like every other emotional issue, Emma forced her own smile, saying, "It's fine." Mary Margaret didn't seem quite convinced of that, so Emma sighed shortly. "Just… next time, listen to me?"

Mary Margaret's eyes widened a little at Emma's echoing of her own words from the Enchanted Forest, after Mary Margaret saved Emma from the ogre.

"This," said Emma, gesturing vaguely, "this… finding bad guys, pegging liars and stuff… that's my world."

Mary Margaret's lips pressed together. "You're right," she whispered. "I should have believed you."

"I'm gonna ask you to have a little more faith in me," said Emma, looking toward the couch.

Mary Margaret bit her lip, looking from Hook to Emma. She sighed again. "Okay. I'll follow your lead."

Emma felt a little relief in her chest.

Emma's eyes found Hook again. It was weird seeing him sleep, seeing the features of his face so calm.

Ever since she found him tonight, she could see Hook's eyes so much clearer—Tamara's rough handling of him had left a few of his own walls crumbled and broken—and as much as there was anger and contempt and bitterness…

There was an exhaustion that Tamara didn't cause.

The look in his eyes was of someone defeated.

Someone hopeless.

Someone alone, and who knew it.

Emma let out a breath.

She'd hide him until he recovered.

Because it was the right thing to do.

Because she was a hero type, as he coined her.

But as she headed to the bathroom for rags and a first aid kit, she knew the real reason.

Because she knew exactly what that felt like.

-.-.-.-.

a/n: hope to finish this one day! :)