Title: In the Still of the Night
Summary: With her mind so focused on something other than the here and now, any interruption of her thoughts was going to startle her. Still, he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible when he softly asked, "When was the last time you slept, love?"
Word Count: 2082, so sayeth OpenOffice.
Spoilers: Post-ep for 3x02, "Lost Girl."
Characters: Captain Hook and Emma Swan.
Rating/Warning: K+ for language. Some angst and some Captain Swan sweetness.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I borrowed them because, well, it's hiatus. I figure they can work for me for a little while since they're not being used at the moment.
Author's Note: I have a multichapter I should be working on, but this is the kind of thing that results when a ship eats my brain. Again, please excuse my mixing of musical metaphors, because although the title comes from the old song originally by The Five Satins, the inspiration for this story came from Frankie Valli's "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." ( ... I like oldies. Shush. ;)) Feedback would thrill me to pieces! Enjoy.

Captain Hook wasn't entirely sure when he started watching Emma Swan. Sometimes he thought it began after she leaped off the side of the Jolly Roger in the middle of a raging storm. The maddening woman had very nearly gotten herself killed solely to prove a point! Hook had been aware of every millisecond as he hauled the prince and his unconscious daughter back onto the ship. Every millisecond that she wasn't breathing, every millisecond that brought her closer to death. It felt as if it took an eternity for Swan, cradled in her parents' arms, to start coughing up the sea.

Hook had only breathed again when she had, and he had only felt relief when she came to with an "I told you so." Only then did he believe that Emma Swan was back, bullheaded and fiery as ever.

However, sometimes he thought it started much earlier than that, back when she bested him in the Enchanted Forest. Or maybe it was when he told her she was an open book to him. Or maybe it was when she said they understood each other, when she was offering him the chance to be a part of something larger than himself.

Whenever it began, it was a surprise to him now that he couldn't keep his eyes off her. He always kept her within sight, no matter where she was or what she was doing. Part of it, he was sure, was coming from a need to make sure that she was all right. One could never be too careful on this wretched island with its traps and dangers. However, if he was honest with himself, a large part of it was coming from the simple desire to look at her. To see her and to take in all the details, great and small … the way the Neverland moonlight shone down on her hair or the set of her jaw when she was angry. The way the jungle plants brightened the green of her eyes or the grip of her hand around the cutlass that once belonged to Baelfire.

Emma Swan was at the same time fierce and broken. She was outwardly confident and inwardly full of doubt. She was at the same time an open book and an enigma, and she absolutely fascinated him.

Tonight, though, he was sorry to say that he had taken his eyes off of her for a little while. He blinked awake to find the fire in the middle of their camp smoldering, dying embers fighting to the very last. Swan, who had laid out her makeshift bedroll across from his when they made camp, was nowhere to be found.

With panic gripping his heart, he swiftly sat upright and ran his eyes over the camp for signs of a struggle. Nothing seemed to be out of place, which didn't calm him as much as one would think. He climbed out of his own makeshift bedroll and silently tiptoed across the small clearing.

It was then that he spotted a second source of light: a lantern that they'd taken from the Roger. Hook squinted and let out a soft breath of relief when in the dim light he saw Swan seated on the ground next to the lantern. She had wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest, while she stared up into the Neverland night, her mind seemingly miles elsewhere.

The lantern light made the dark circles under her eyes all the more prominent. Concern knotted Hook's brow; he didn't think she had slept for more than an hour or two since leaving Storybrooke.

With her mind so focused on something other than the here and now, any interruption of her thoughts was going to startle her. Still, he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible when he softly asked, "When was the last time you slept, love?"

True to his suspicions, she did startle. Swan gave a halfhearted shrug in response to his question and returned her gaze to the sky. Hook took her silence as an invitation to sit down next to her. She didn't look at him but she didn't tell him to leave her alone, either, so he stayed.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. She continued to gaze up into the night while he alternated his own gaze between the sky and her. The day had obviously been rough on her. Not that this whole situation wasn't rough on her, but the events of the day had clearly been more so. All she was doing now was letting it simmer and stew. He knew because he'd done the same thing, for more years than he cared to admit. And because of that he also knew that simmering and stewing was never helpful. Emma Swan needed to talk, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

After gathering up his courage, Hook asked, "Does your going off by yourself in the middle of the night have anything to do with how you made the map appear?" She shot him a glare so cold that it made him gulp, but he held his ground. "I know Pan, Swan. I know how he operates. The key to making that map appear was never going to be something self-affirming for you."

"All I want is my kid back," she grumbled. "It doesn't matter what I have to do in order to find him."

That rather confirmed his theory, then. That bloody demon child had made her face something she wasn't ready to face, something that had stirred up her emotions to a point that she was struggling not to drown in them. And though she could claim it didn't matter to her, it did. That was the whole point. Pan took things that mattered deeply and shoved them in the person's face to serve as a distraction.

So he told her as much. "It does matter, Swan, because this is his game. He doesn't want you to be strong; that would defeat his purpose. He wants you mired in self-doubt."

Swan looked over at him, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments. Then she looked away again, hugging her knees tighter to her chest. It was easy to see now the abandoned little girl he'd seen in her eyes on the beanstalk. "I hate this damn island."

"As do I," he admitted.

At that, she met his gaze again, her eyes searching his. "Then why did you come back here? Why are you doing this?"

Hook paused, trying to think of a delicate way to answer that question. The whole truth … with her current mind state, it would be too much for her. Partial truth it had to be, then. "I came back to be a part of something." He allowed his trademark smirk to pull at his lips. "Someone once reminded me that I could."

A little smile tugged at the corners of Swan's mouth as well, but only for a fraction of a second. Then she schooled her features and said, "That's why you came back to Storybrooke, though. Why did you come back here if you hate it so much?"

Damn her. He couldn't lie to her; he'd never been able to lie to her. Plus, now he found that he had no desire to lie to her. She deserved the truth because, as he gathered, she'd had so little of it in her life. However, the truth in this instance would only shut down this tenuous conversational spirit that had formed between them.

So once again, he considered his words and delivered them delicately. "Sometimes being a part of something means facing something you're not ready to face. Sometimes being a part of something means doing something you don't want to do for the sake of someone else. You did so yourself to make the map appear, yes?"

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"I'm simply doing the same."

When Swan tore her gaze from his, Hook knew she'd made the connection. She'd faced her own inner demons for Henry, and Hook had faced his inner demons for her.

Silence again settled over the pair, but since Swan still didn't tell him to leave, Hook stayed. After a few long minutes, he decided to try again to reach her. "Being alone was definitely easier," he spoke up, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She tensed when he began speaking but she made no move to stop him. "Being alone meant never having to worry about someone hurting me … or having to worry about losing anyone."

At that, she squirmed, tightening her grip on her legs. What in the bloody hell had Pan done? This couldn't just be about the map, could it? She'd been … not all right after the map but not this sullen, either. Somewhere beneath her outward fierceness and confidence lay sheer terror.

Hook silently ran over what he'd said before she fidgeted and finally understood. She was afraid of being alone again. She was afraid of losing not only her son to Pan but also everyone she'd come to love.

He understood because he'd felt that same fear. He'd felt it on the Jolly Roger when he'd watched the prince and princess cradle their unconscious and unbreathing daughter. That fear of not knowing how to survive watching someone else be ripped from one's life, leaving one all alone again. The abject terror of not knowing how to move forward after getting that taste of love and companionship only to have it torn away.

Being alone was easier but the thought of being alone again after finally having people in one's life was soul-crushing.

"On the balance, though ... I think I'd rather be a part of something. And it's because of that that I can tell you this: we will find him," he said to her, his eyes trained on her even though hers were staring straight ahead at nothing. Or perhaps not nothing but certainly something inward that Hook couldn't see. "We'll find him and then we'll get off of this rock, all of us. We won't let him be alone, either."

"He won't be abandoned the same way I was abandoned," she murmured. He smiled when he recognized the words as an echo of what he said to her on the beanstalk.

"No, Swan, he won't." Deciding he'd pushed her enough for one night, he stood and brushed the jungle debris from his clothing. "You really should get some rest, love."

"Not yet," she mumbled. Her mind was still clearly focused inward, and she was more than likely not aware of what she was saying. "I'll try when they stop."

They? Oh, the cries of the Lost Boys. Funny, Hook had almost forgotten about those cries. He hadn't heard them since he'd been back but they used to torture him during his previous stays in this wretched land. "They still do that?"

That got her attention. She blinked up at him, frowning. "You used to hear them?" When he nodded at her, she asked, "How come you don't anymore?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, though he did have an idea. "Perhaps it's because I no longer feel alone. And someday, Swan, neither will you."

He gave her a calm smile before turning back to camp. He snuffed the fire completely; it was a warm enough night that the flames weren't needed for heat, and all the embers and smoke would do was call attention to their location. Then he climbed back into his bedroll and closed his eyes.

Of course, sleep was next to impossible. He wouldn't be able to sleep until he knew she was all right. Hook listened in the darkness, and soon enough, he heard her soft footsteps as she approached camp. He was utterly surprised, however, when he heard her shifting something along the ground. And someone could have knocked him over with a feather when, after opening his eyes a slit, he found her climbing into her bedroll that she'd moved next to his.

Since any attention to the shift would have made her uncomfortable, Hook simply closed his eyes again and listened. He still had no intention of going to sleep, though … not until he was sure that she had fallen asleep herself.

For a long time, neither of them said a word. When Swan finally spoke, her voice was thick with impending sleep. "Hey, Hook?"

"Yes, Swan?"

"Thanks."

Captain Hook smiled in the darkness. "You're very welcome, love."