I literally just finished writing this so I haven't had a chance to edit. First part inspired by a post on tumblr by firstbeanstalk and then it kind of spun out of control from there - if you listen really carefully, you can hear my muse laughing hysterically at my lack of self-control. It's basically just a little drabble about the map Pan gave Emma and Hook's response etc. (Cue the sexual tension)

Emma walked carefully through the trees, retracing her steps back to their camp. The blank map was clenched tightly in her fist, the small and seemingly insignificant link to her son an anchor of sorts as she calmed her raging nerves. She could still hear the dull roar of the children crying as it drifted throughout the forest, but at least now she could put a face to the eerily revered name.

Peter Pan.

She was still shocked by the stunningly youthful appearance, the façade of innocence that could be flicked on and off like a light switch. It was strange how quickly she had been able to ignore his baby face, discounting his mask of naivety like rubbish as she saw beneath to the man in a child's body.

His calculating eyes, all too knowing as they addressed her with mixed amusement and veneration, unnerved her. But, most of all, it was his gift and the vague way in which he had bestowed it that disconcerted her. She was still trying to figure out why the Lost Boys hadn't descended on them yet, especially if they knew their conflicting intentions. The entire thing felt wrong; why would they have abducted her son if they wanted her to find him? What was it about the way she would find him? Why couldn't she read the damned thing?

Emma looked down at the parchment in her hand, studying it as she re-entered their clearing and stopped walking. Lifting the rolled paper up, she opened it and stared hard at the blank page, silently willing something to appear. But nothing did, and she felt absurdly embarrassed.

She looked around the clearing, her eyes drifting over each of her travelling companions until they landed on the pirate. Re-rolling the paper, Emma padded quietly across the dirt expanse to his makeshift bed.

It didn't go unnoticed to her that she was seeing Hook in place of her parents, but something told her it would be more beneficial to talk to him first. That and she still felt oddly distanced from the couple sleeping happily in each other's embrace on the opposite side of the clearing.

Emma kneeled quietly beside Hook's sleeping form, her eyes drifting to his face and lingering there for a long moment.

He looked surprisingly older, his brow furrowed as she watched his eyelids flutter. Something told her he didn't sleep peacefully and there was something about that which made her heart constrict faintly in her chest. She could feel her eyes soften as she studied his face, the pain etched into the lines on his forehead. Emma's hand twitched with the urge to smooth them and it was as though the strange urge snapped her back to reality, the rough paper in her hand reminding her why she'd come to his bedside.

With her free hand, Emma nudged his shoulder gently.

He didn't respond, a deep breath making his chest rise and fall. She nudged him again, "Hook," she whispered, "Hook, wake up."

Nothing happened and she felt her face deadpan as she poked him in the shoulder harder. When he refused to wake again, Emma set down the enchanted map beside her, using both hands to shake his shoulders ever so slightly.

"Hook… Hook," she hissed.

She groaned, her blonde hair coming down from her shoulders to curtain her face and tickle his neck. Absurdly, she felt suddenly irritated with him and decided to make her next move harsher. As she lifted his shoulder off the ground, his eyes snapped open.

There was a split-second where Emma sighed in relief before suddenly she felt him shift, one arm shooting up to snake around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he spun them around. Her back hit the thin cloth covering his bed and she grunted at the impact as his body pinned hers down. Emma opened her eyes, unaware that she'd ever closed them and swallowed, feeling the cold metal tip of his hook pressed against her throat. She looked up to his ice blue eyes as he finally registered her face, his gaze widening and glancing down at her form in sudden shock.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Swan?" he asked indignantly as he caught his breath, drawing his hook away from her throat and leaning on his forearm as he hovered over her.

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Seriously? I was just trying to wake you up – and besides, you're the one who attacked me!" she hissed in reply.

"Exactly! I could have killed you!" he countered harshly, his voice quiet but sharp.

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't – I need your help," she said, brushing off his annoyance and giving him a serious look. Hook cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, fixing her with an incredulous expression.

"And, pray tell, why haven't you sought your beloved parents?" he asked, glancing at them across the clearing, their breathing heavy as Mary Margaret snuggled contentedly into her husband's side.

"Because I figured you'd be the best to consult about it," Emma retorted quickly, gaze flickering between his eyes and drifting momentarily up to his raven hair that dropped down towards her. She met his eyes again and it suddenly occurred to her that he was still holding her, his body pressed comfortably against hers as he pinned her down. She was painfully aware of every inch of him, something unidentifiable pooling low in her belly, like glowing embers sparking to life, threatening to erupt into an all-out flame with the right provocation.

She glanced haphazardly at his lips, immediately scolding herself for her foolishness as she locked onto his cerulean eyes again. But he hadn't noticed, his own eyes having wandered across her face.

Warning bells shrilled in Emma's head, a loud and demanding voice calling out for her to stop; get out now, it ordered, get as far away from him as possible. She coughed lightly, giving him an expectant look until he pulled away from her, sitting up and moving to sit beside her. She pushed herself up hesitantly, her mind still fuzzy as it fought to catch up to her body and the absence of warmth that made her shiver. Emma looked behind her, leaning over to pick up the scroll and turning back to Hook whose eyes were immediately drawn to the piece of paper in her hand.

He frowned and gave her a questioning look, "What's that?"

"Don't get mad," she replied instantly, levelling him with a warning look as she held the paper out to him. His frown only deepened, his eyes staying on her as he took the map from her grip and began opening it. It was only when the parchment was completely flat in his grip that he looked down, and immediately she saw the anger rise up as the ice blue snapped onto her. Honestly, she hadn't expected his response to be so instantaneous – she'd expected she would have to explain it to him first.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, eerily calm despite the fury etched into his face.

Emma was silent for a long moment and he groaned, "Emma," he chided, the one word filled with an undercurrent of demand.

She sighed and snatched the paper deftly from his hand, "I couldn't sleep and then I heard something so I went to check it out and ran into Pan –"

"This isn't the sort of place to take a night-time stroll, love!" he hissed harshly, cutting her off.

"Do you want to know what happened or not?" Emma challenged, unwilling to argue with him and refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was right: she really shouldn't have gone into the forest alone. Had anything happened, it would have been a good four hours before anyone in their troop noticed her absence. Stupid really, a voice that sounded strangely like Hook's chastised her.

The pirate in front of her sighed, his reprimanding eyes still boring unrelenting into her, "What happened?"

She fiddled with the corner of the page in her hands, "Pan came to see what he was up against – and you forgot to mention how much of a creepy, smug little shit he is – and he gave me this, said something about its how we find him that matter… or something like that. But basically, he said it'll lead to Henry."

Hook studied her carefully, his eyes no longer heated, but rather concerned.

"Did he explain how you read this map?" he asked, his tone belying the question. He knew something and Emma immediately narrowed her eyes.

"You first; how did you know immediately what it was?"

He shook his head and looked down at the ground, tracing strange patterns into the small patch of exposed dirt with his hook, "Because I've dealt with one before. They're called Prosopsi Maps – invisible to all but one, and conditional. Typically, the Lost Boys use these to manipulate a person into doing their bidding so whatever Pan suggested you do to reveal it is likely beneficial for his agenda."

"He said I won't be able to see it until I stop denying who I 'really am,'" Emma said, the words tumbling from her mouth unbidden as her mind tried to connect the dots of Pan's plan. Who was she really? And how would that fit into his plan?

Hook frowned and shuffled slightly closer until he was right beside Emma, his good hand reaching towards the map to unfold it again. He looked down at it, studying the page and the elegant framework hard. Emma's eyes were on the page until, from her peripheral vision, she noted his proximity. His face was but an inch away from hers, their shoulders touching.

She swallowed, focussing on the page again despite not actually knowing what to focus on.

Beside her, Hook leaned in ever so slightly before chuckling.

"Sneaky bastard," he whispered, half impressed, half resentful. Emma turned to him, ignorant of how close his face was, and tried to catch his eye.

"What? What's sneaky?" she asked, looking down at the invisible map and trying to ascertain what the pirate had noticed.

He turned to face her, holding the invisible piece of paper aloft, "Bloody thing – I should have noticed from the frame." At Emma's confused look, he elucidated, his finger running along the length of the artfully designed lines that ruled the perimeter of the page, "The one thing about Prosopsi Maps is that they can't be fully concealed – nor can their magic. If enchanted, there has to be an identifier; like a condition the creator's must obey. This border is this map's identifier."

"And?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows in speculation.

"And," Hook continued, suddenly scrunching up the paper in his hands, "This map is enchanted to affect your personality, your relationships. It's an isolation spell – the longer you have it on you, the more you feel disconnected from the people you care about."

Emma looked at the crumpled paper in Hook's fist and watched as he threw it into the bushes, realisation settling over her as she recalled how she'd felt as she came back to the clearing, not wanting to go to her parents for help, feeling uncharacteristically distant. As the paper disappeared into the shadows, Emma felt as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders, her parents no longer distant and foreign.

Her next words were out before she could stop them, "Why didn't I feel disconnected from you?" she inquired, the undercurrent of genuine confusion speaking volumes as though she'd blatantly told him, 'I care about you too.'

Hook stared at her for a long second, and she realised she hadn't just taken herself by surprise but him too. He looked away from her and began playing with his appendage, the metal glinting ominously in the moonlight.

"Well, the spells are… specific. Perhaps Pan only considered your parents…"

She chewed her bottom lip as he drifted off, his lilting voice quieting as he fell silent.

You idiot, she scolded herself, you can't let him know that – he'll use it against you! Emma rubbed her forehead, the buzzing there louder as the cries of the Neverland children very abruptly began to encroach on her. She hadn't even realised it had stopped and was drawn from her thoughts when Hook's voice came again, soft and tentative beside her.

"You can hear them too?" he asked, and she knew exactly what he was referring to.

Emma nodded, "Yeah… why can't the others hear them?"

Hook looked up to the sky, a far-off look in his eyes, "Because only lost ones can hear them: the ones who were abandoned and abused. All children can – but adults… adults only hear them if –"

"If they were abandoned or abused," Emma finished quietly, turning to look at him with sympathetic eyes, "You were abandoned too, huh?" He nodded, almost imperceptibly, his eyes swimming with a pain she had the sudden urge to soothe.

"My father – after my mother died we joined a pirate crew. Didn't realise he was actually a criminal until I woke up one morning to stale sheets and an army of the King's men," he explained, his voice suddenly husky in the late night air, his breath coming out in pale white wisps. And something shifted into place, a piece of the endlessly ambiguous puzzle that was Killian Jones clicking into position as she took in this newest sliver of information. She couldn't identify the warm feeling that spread through her chest as she scrutinised him, a strange sympathetic smile pulling briefly at her lips before disappearing.

Hook's eyes lowered from the sky, drifting across the ground until they met hers.

And she realised it was silent in the clearing: no longer a dull rumble of broken sobs. There was a long moment where neither said anything and Emma felt strangely comfortable, content even. But eventually, reality closed in and the sound of her father taking a deep breath punctuated the sound of her walls re-erecting themselves.

"I should get some sleep," she whispered, drawing her lower lip into her mouth.

Hook nodded, "Aye – I'll see you in the morning, lass."

Emma stood up, brushing the dirt off her jeans and walking towards her makeshift bed. She had only moved a couple of steps when she turned; looking over her shoulder at the pirate who was still seated in the same position she had left him.

"Good night," she said, catching his attention so he looked over his shoulder at her, "Killian."

A small smile ghosted over his lips and he nodded, "Good night, Emma."

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