Author's note: I didn't quite understand why Neal—or Hook—had to go back to the Enchanted Forest when Regina stopped Pan's curse. After all, like Emma, the two of them had left the Enchanted Forest independently of the curse. And given how badly Neal wanted to be a father to Henry (and to try and reconcile with Emma), I'd imagine that if he could have gone with them, he would have. And, of course, that introduces all sorts of complications for Hook.

(Obviously, Neal's absence in the Enchanted Forest changes things, but not significantly. Zelena is still enacting her plan; she's tricked some ambitious fool into resurrecting the Dark One. The sender of the message to Hook is irrelevant, but it's probably safe to assume that this time, it was the Charmings, especially since they wouldn't have been able to send a memory potion. And given the bromance between Charming and Hook, I'd think that the prince would immediately think of the pirate as someone who could find Emma.)

It had been over a year since Hook had been in this city, and he hadn't missed it. He'd been a pirate for years, and a seafaring man for even longer, so he was used to being in close quarters with men in need of a good wash. But at least when he was above deck, or on land, there was fresh air and plenty of space.

How Swan could have found herself in this crowded, smelly city—how she could have chosen to make a life here—was beyond him.

Perhaps it had been Bae's idea. He'd lived in this city before; after all, that's what had brought the crocodile here, and why Hook had followed.

It was difficult for him to reconcile his feelings for Swan with his desire for her happiness. Maybe he didn't truly love her, as he'd believed for so long, if he couldn't be happy at the thought of her living happily with another man. Of course, that man hardly deserved her; he'd nearly ruined her ability to trust anyone, and Hook had been the one who had to start breaking her walls down. But no, he should be happy for her. He should feel guilty that he was here to take her away from that happiness.

He observed the building in front of him; the magic bean had brought him here, but there was no indication that she actually lived inside. The door wasn't locked, though (although if it had been, that wouldn't have really been a problem), and he stepped inside and wandered over to the boxes in the wall with the list of resident names. There was no Swan anywhere … but there was a box that read "311: Neal and Emma Cassidy."

She was no longer Swan. It felt wrong. It was wrong.

He vividly recalled their last moments together, before Swan, Bae, and Henry climbed into that little yellow vehicle and drove off across the town line. He remembered her eyes flicking towards him worriedly as Regina explained that they could escape Pan's curse—that she could give the three of them a life together, memories of always being a family. It was best for Henry, Regina had said. And it was best for Henry; he would believe that he'd grown up with two loving, happily married parents.

Regina wanted Henry to have his best chance, and so did Swan. It was the right thing to do.

Their goodbye had been unbelievably brief and unsatisfying. For the first time in years (for the first time since he'd stumbled over his words trying to tell Milah that he loved her), he didn't know what to say. After he'd made some inane comment about her vehicle, trying to ease the tension, she'd looked up at him with a devastatingly broken expression on her face. She had been holding back tears. It had been the wrong time to make jokes.

"There's not a day will go by I won't think of you," he'd said.

"Good."

And that had been it. He had so desperately wanted to reach out and hold her, or at least touch her, and his body had felt as if it might fly apart as he stood still, holding back. And then Swan, Bae, and Henry had gotten into the vehicle and left, never looking back.

And not a day had gone by he hadn't thought of her. Her brilliant golden hair, the tension in her body as she anticipated a fight, the way she'd looked into his face the first day he'd met her and read him like a book. The kiss in Neverland that had practically destroyed him and turned his world upside down.

And now he'd see her again, under wildly different circumstances. This would be the second time they'd meet for the first time.

The door to progress into the rest of the building was locked; while that was likely prudent in order to prevent theft or other crimes from occurring, it did mean that he'd be unable to enter the building any further. He supposed that he could press the little button next to Swan's apartment number; perhaps it would alert her to his presence, and she would come down and let him in.

Before he could contemplate the button any longer, the door opened. A young woman in extremely tight clothing was exiting the building. He caught the door with his hand and watched her leave; she appeared to be wrapped up in her own little world, wearing earplugs of some sort. She didn't seem to notice him, or if she did, she didn't seem concerned that he could enter the building. Not one to question good fortune, Hook stepped through the door and began making his way to apartment 311.

When he reached the door, he worried that his heart might burst from his chest, it was pounding so alarmingly. But he hadn't come all this way just to turn tail and run like a coward. He'd received a message begging him to find Swan and bring her to Storybrooke; he'd traded his beloved ship for the bean that would bring him to her; and he was going to finish the job.

He knocked.

He should have been less surprised when Bae opened the door.

Bae looked good. After years of running from his father and trying to lay low, Bae had looked too old, and too worried. But with the life Regina had given him, he no longer carried those burdens. The lines and sadness were gone from his face, and he looked genuinely curious as he looked back at the apparent stranger in his doorway.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I need to speak to Emma Swan," Hook replied quickly, thrown off enough by the disappointment of who'd answered the door that he forgot that Swan was no longer Swan (in more ways than one).

"Um, sure, one second," Bae replied, and he turned to go back into the apartment before craning his neck back at Hook. "Who are you exactly? I mean, who should I tell her is here?"

"Killian Jones." He nervously touched his prosthetic hand to make sure it was still secure. "It's about her parents," he added.

That seemed to get Bae's attention; his eyebrows went up and he quickly disappeared into the apartment. Hook wasn't sure if he should follow; the door had been left open, but he hadn't been invited in. From where he stood, he could see a kitchen along a wall, and the beginnings of a parlor. Odd noises were coming from the living room. "Henry, save the games till after breakfast," he heard Bae say faintly.

Henry. Hook's pulse quickened. In his haste to rescue his Swan and bring her back to Storybrooke, he'd forgotten that it meant robbing Henry of his normal childhood. But before he could contemplate the matter further, Swan appeared. His heart beat even louder in his ears.

She had clearly just woken up; her hair was a bit flattened on one side and sticking up on the other, and she was wearing what he recognized as night clothes. And, just like Bae, her entire demeanor was different; she seemed years younger. He might not have recognized her had he not been seeking her out; without the burden of being the Savior, or the sadness of giving up Henry, she was a different person.

But one thing was still the same as before, and he could still read her easily: Regina's memories had preserved Emma's history of being abandoned at birth and growing up in the system. Bae must have told her that Hook was here about her parents; the pain and skepticism were clearly written all over her face.

"You have information about my parents?" she asked, not bothering to exchange pleasantries. He had to resist grinning: same old Swan.

"Aye," he replied. "I was hoping we could meet to discuss the situation." He glanced at Bae, who was standing in the kitchen, carefully watching the scene. "Privately," he added.

"Now isn't a good time," Swan said. "I'm free on Tuesday at twelve-thirty. You can meet me at the coffee shop downstairs."

He swallowed. "Aye, that would be fine."

"Can I have your phone number in case I need to reach you?" she asked.

"I, um, well, my phone was stolen the other day," he lied. "I'll simply meet you on Tuesday."

"Okay. Thanks." And she shut the door in his face.

Still in shock at finally seeing Swan after so long, Hook stayed where he was. He supposed it could have gone worse: she could have refused to see him, or Bae could have slammed the door in his face from the get-go. Looking down momentarily, it occurred to him that in his attire, he stuck out like a sore thumb; it wasn't likely that he could come across as anyone trustworthy in her eyes.

He was distracted from his thoughts by raised voices within the apartment.

"Henry, I think you should go to your room for a bit."

"Neal, I think I can deal with one New York City weirdo."

"You didn't even ask him for his credentials."

"I can ask on Tuesday. Either he has information or he doesn't. If he does, I can check out the lead on my own. And if he doesn't, I'll just leave. What's the problem?"

"He knows where we live!"

"So if he ends up being a stalker, we'll just call the cops! Jesus, Neal."

"I just don't want to turn on the ten o'clock news and find out that you were brutally murdered, Em."

"Neal, we've been through this a million times. I can take care of myself. It's part of my job."

"Then let me go with you on Tuesday."

"You've got a meeting Tuesday. You've been bitching about it for weeks."

"You picked that day intentionally, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. It's my day off this week."

"I really have a bad feeling about this, okay? He might be lying."

"He wasn't lying."

"You don't actually have a superpower, Em."

"Fine. Then I won't go. Happy?"

Hook frowned, but the conversation quieted down after that. Would Swan really cancel on him? There was no way for her to contact him; unless she knew he was still standing outside (and that seemed unlikely; the conversation sounded as if she didn't know she was being overheard), that meant she expected him to show up on Tuesday and wait around, not knowing where she was.

Well, he'd just have to show up anyway.