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eddisfargo · 2 days ago

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Not a Day Will Go By (13/14)

Well... I thought it had been over a year since I last updated, and I was feeling pretty bad about it. But apparently it's been... over two ??? I owe you all a huge apology, especially my giftee, @resident-of-storybrooke, and I will give you that apology! In the form of another 4K words, and a change from 12/? chapters to... 13/14. But wait! There's more! I already have most of the next chapter written! And it's the LAST, unless I split it, because it is lorge. Thank you so much for every comment y'all left. I didn't want to reply until I could reply with good news, but every time someone left a comment or a kudos, it gave me hope that there were still people who wanted to read this story, and set a writing fire under me. I cannot tell you how much each comment made my day! And thanks above all to @motherkatereloyshipper for immediately agreeing to beta again after all this time!! And once again for the gorgeous banner. Okay no further ado, hope you enjoy!

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12 Ch 13

Fic summary: Captain Hook wakes up in a strange bed, next to a woman he does not remember. He finds nothing particularly unusual about this situation. But the woman seems to know him very well.

In Storybrooke, there’s only one surefire way to get back a lost memory. And it’s not going to work until he loves her.

Chapter summary: Hook confronts some things. And some people.

As the door of the shop loomed nearer, Hook’s nerves returned. Whatever Emma had said to the contrary, he needed to focus on finding a way to enact his revenge. At least his promise to do no murder today took some of the immediate pressure off.

Emma turned to him, noticing that he’d paused. She gave him an encouraging smile. “Let’s go see if that knock on the head jogged any of his memories.” That got a reluctant smile out of him, and she waited another moment until he nodded before opening the door.

At the chime of the shop’s bell, the Crocodile turned – expressly, it seemed, to sneer directly at Hook. “Oh good,” he said flatly. “They’re back.”

“Anything?” Emma asked, addressing her question to the Queen.

It was the Crocodile who answered. “Shockingly,” he drawled, “I don’t break under interrogation.”

Hook glowered at the imp, who looked contemptuously back. Emma squeezed his hand once, and turned the full force of her attention to her adversary.

“You’re right,” she said.

Hook raised an eyebrow behind her, but she continued.

“That’s not your MO, is it? So how about an incentive?”

Eyes widening, Hook stepped towards her. “Emma…” he warned quietly. Even Regina was raising an eyebrow. Emma turned briefly back to face him… and winked.

“Look, did you slip Killian a memory potion?”

“Precisely what agenda do you think I’d be furthering by–”

“Is that a no?”

The imp rolled his eyes. “Yes.” After a short pause, during which Hook weighed the ambiguous response, he deigned to clarify. “It’s a no.”

“Good,” said Emma, seeming to take his word for it as if lying weren’t the little man’s bread and butter. “Then our interests align.”

“Do they, indeed.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Hook with no memories is kind of a loose cannon. Sneaking into your shop, scattering all your junk… chatting up your wife…”

It took a startled moment for Hook to recall that she’d mentioned a new wife, and had not , in fact, been referring to Milah. He opened his mouth to protest that he’d never even met the woman, but the delay in comprehension had been long enough for Emma to meet his eyes significantly. So rather than speaking in his own defense, he gave the Dark One a malevolent grin.

The Crocodile adjusted his hands on his cane. “Convincing me I’d rather be rid of your husband is a bold gambit, Miss Swan. Surely there are other ways I could accomplish that than by… helping.”

Hook bristled. Emma had said something about having kept her name, but surely she wasn’t a Miss . Also, the man seemed to be threatening his life, which, in retrospect, Hook supposed was more of a reason to take offense.

Emma crossed her arms. “There are,” she agreed, showing no sign of concern, “but wouldn’t it be sad for little Gideon to grow up fatherless? Again?”

Now who in the bloody hell was Gideon? Was Hook supposed to have a child too? He could make nothing of the “again,” but he had more than enough to start sweating. Surely, surely any spawn he might’ve sired would’ve come up in conversation before now. He wanted quite badly to ask, but he didn’t want to admit ignorance in front of enemies. He’d bring it up later.

“Don’t you think,” Regina broke in, sounding bored, “that if threats were all it took, he’d have sung by now?”

Emma sighed. “You’re right. Regina, are you sure he knows anything?”

“Positive. He usually keeps a stock of Oblex residue, but today it’s mysteriously out of stock. Someone must’ve bought it. If it had been stolen, I’m sure he’d have made you do something about it before now.”

“What the hell is an Oblex?” Emma asked.

“Something you don’t want to meet,” Hook answered, bloody overjoyed to finally, finally know something that Emma didn’t.

Regina looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. The Crocodile looked as if he wished he could. He’d almost expected Emma to be surprised he knew something, but in fact, she looked expectant. Almost as if his actually possessing relevant knowledge was not unusual. Huh.

He cleared his throat. “An oblex is a sort of sentient ooze. They’re clever little beasties. Had to fight one off years back, off the shores of the Sword Coast. Near lost the ship’s doctor.” He saw that he had, at the least, Emma’s undivided attention, and he didn’t much care for the others. “You don’t want to lose a fight with one of those. Nasty blighters will eat your –” He froze, and finished more quietly. “...Memories.”

“And that’s why,” Regina concluded, “their residue is the primary ingredient in a forgetting potion. It’s not easy to get, which is why I’m pretty sure you’d notice if some went missing. ”

“And if–for the sake of argument–I’d sold some…” the Crocodile began, oozing insincerity. “The ingredient is not only usable in forgetting potions. In fact, I recently heard that it can be combined with certain herbs to create a tea, to ease a troubled mind.”

Emma raised her eyebrows at the Queen, awaiting confirmation. Regina looked skeptical. “Oh? And where did you hear that, I wonder?”

“Now that you mention it, I recall a strapping young gentleman who came into my shop some time past, looking to make such a tea for his ailing aunt, or great aunt–something to that effect.”

“Oh?” Emma said, with thinly-veiled interest, as if they were each playing their parts in the conversation. “Did he find what he was looking for?”

“One never knows what one will find in my shop.” It was incredible how such relatively inoffensive words could still make you want to knock someone’s teeth out. Maybe it was just his voice.

“And what would be the price of such a valuable ingredient?” Emma asked politely. “If you found it?”

“As it happened, the young man’s relation had a few recipes I did not already know–a rare thing indeed.”

There was a short pause, as everyone in the room considered.

“If I were to ask you for the surveillance footage…” Emma attempted.

“I don’t keep it longer than a week.”

“Of course,” Emma said, sounding unsurprised. “That would’ve been too easy. Well, what did he look like?”

The imp shrugged. “Not especially notable.”

“Anything you remember? Anything at all? Hair?”

“He wore a hat, but I believe it was dark.”

“Build?”

“I wasn’t selling him clothes.”

Evidently, he was determined to make her pry any piece of information out of him.

“You called him a strapping young man. What does that mean, exactly? Muscular? Athletic? Bulky?”

“I suppose. I really didn’t take any special notice.” Hook wondered if the man would take any special notice of a hook in his throat.

“Any notable facial features?”

“He may possibly have had a larger than average chin.”

“Okay… anything else?”

“Not particularly,” he said flatly. “Well, that does seem to be all I can recall about any recent customers. Now, if you would kindly vacate the premises, I would very much like to close for the day. It seems my shop could do with some… reorganizing.” Without turning his head, he leveled a glare Hook’s way.

Without conscious thought, Hook found himself looking at Emma to determine their course of action. She turned to him, seeming satisfied with the day’s work. She exchanged a glance with Regina, who nodded. And, without taking their leave of the shop’s owner, they left.

Somehow, Hook didn’t notice until the shop was well behind them that his hand was in hers.

They walked in a companionable silence until they were far enough from the shop that Hook could breathe freely again. Hook sorted through all the questions with which the interview had left him, and tried to decide what to ask about first. He wanted to ask about Gideon , but the dread of finding out who he might be–not a son, surely not a son–made it difficult to form the words.

Finally, he made himself open his mouth. “Swan,” he blurted, with no clear idea what he’d say next. She blinked, as if he’d pulled her out of some intense concentration, but after a moment she turned to him with a smile.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.

Who is Gideon? “Did we…” have a child? He cleared his throat. “...actually learn anything from that interview?” He held back a sigh. Coward .

She grinned. “Enough to get started with. We have a profile on our potential perp. Maybe the great aunt is real, maybe she isn’t, but it’s a small town. And at least Gold’s condescended to narrow the playing field a little. If they’ve got ‘recipes’ Gold’s interested in, they’re probably not out-of-towners. And I have a kind of vague physical description, if he was being forthright about all of it. I’ve definitely got enough to search with. Finding people is…” Her smile was lovely, and behind her modesty, he could see some pride. “Kind of my thing.” All at once, Hook became aware that Emma was caressing the hand she was holding. “Want to come?”

“I–think I have some business to attend to,” he said, perhaps less firmly than he’d intended. She looked a bit crestfallen, and he added, “Sorry, love,” before thinking to question why he was apologizing. He didn’t owe her a bloody apology for being busy. He searched his mind for a story she’d accept for what he was busy with that didn’t involve searching for a weapon against the Dark One.

“OK,” she said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home. Love you!” She hesitated before leaving, as if she was expecting something, but then smiled ruefully and walked away. It didn’t take much in the way of context to figure out what she’d been waiting for, once he gave it a moment’s thought. But surely she couldn’t expect it of him.

He stood for a moment, watching her walk back to her brightly-covered conveyance. As he pulled his hand slowly from the cheek her lips had touched, he considered the fact that she had not, in fact, demanded his plans. The word trust flitted through his mind, leaving a feeling suspiciously like guilt.

Well, there was nothing to be done. He had promised her no murders today, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plan. As for the wager with the Queen, that was easily dealt with. If she rightfully owned the Jolly Roger, he could win it back the way a pirate usually won his booty. And what was one extra murder once the bet was lost?

He began to walk, allowing his feet to choose the direction–they hadn’t steered him wrong so far. He spent a pleasant moment picturing the look of surprise on Regina’s face just before his hook pierced her heart. He could see the rage turning into fear, as the man she erroneously believed was no threat came for his reckoning. And behind her, there stood Emma, eyes wide and full of tears–

A loud, dissonant noise brought him to his senses. He realized he’d stopped cold in the middle of the road, and one of those wheeled metal contraptions–a bug, had Emma called them? But this one was red, and rather larger than hers--stood behind him. He made eye contact with the person behind the glass at the front. It was a man he didn’t recognize–hardly shocking, at the moment–who threw his arms wide in a gesture of impatient disbelief. The man slammed his hand in front of him, and the awful noise repeated.

Suddenly in quite a foul mood, Hook gave his most menacing scowl and approached the conveyance, raising his left arm to make his namesake conspicuous. As he reached the side door of the bug, less than a foot from the wide-eyed man inside, there was a loud squeal and the contraption sped away. Ahh, well. If he was going to lose the bet– when , rather–it would be for more significant reasons. A blond-haired face with a look of abject betrayal tried once more to encroach upon his imagination, but he pushed it roughly aside. He walked quickly out of the road, in no particular hurry to repeat the confrontation.

He tried to keep his focus on what was most relevant–forming a plan. Kill the crocodile, and leave this strange place, with all of these strange people. Unfairly attractive people with soft hands. Children with Baelfire’s eyes. Complete strangers who smiled at him, like the woman across the street was doing now. How on earth she could be smiling at him despite the thunderous scowl he was–

Hook stopped to take stock of his face, to find that his scowl seemed to have abandoned him, in favor of an expression with which he was unfamiliar. His lips were turned up very slightly, but not in a smirk or a leer. And his eyes were half-closed, when they ought to have been wide open and paying attention to his bloody surroundings, because now the woman was pushing her covered cart towards him, and she looked familiar. Ahh, she was the woman he’d seen earlier, just outside of the cursed pawn shop . Except that she’d looked familiar then, too, hadn’t she? But no, her cheerful smile was not striking any chords in his mind now.

Not only was she smiling, she was actually walking toward him.

“Hello,” Hook said cautiously. He was dealing with an unknown quantity, and he wasn’t sure how to approach her.

The moment he spoke, something began to strike the covering of the cart from the inside. He managed to keep from visibly startling, looking with a raised eyebrow from the cart to the woman.

The stranger laughed. “He heard you!” She pushed back the covering on the cart, which folded as it seemed designed to do.

From the violence of the striking, Hook had been half expecting some sort of small but fierce wild animal. What appeared, however, was a very human baby. And it was looking right at him. Its expression might charitably be called a smile, although its teeth were largely absent.

The baby looked at the woman who was presumably its mother and had some sort of semi-verbal communication.

“Down?” the woman said, in the tone of someone repeating what they’d heard, although to Hook’s ears the baby’s word had sounded more like “aaa!”

Without further ado, she leaned down and set the baby loose. To Hook’s surprise, rather than toppling over immediately, it took some rather wobbly steps in his direction. He controlled the urge to back away. He was certainly not afraid of an infant–even one that seemed determined to barrel toward him. What on earth made him so nervous? It wasn’t as if the tiny thing could hurt him. On the contrary, it was so small it looked as if a rogue breeze might damage it irreparably. He gulped, reflexively moving his hook behind his back.

“Iiiiihggh,” burbled the baby, whose strong apparent desire to continue its headfirst forward motion was beginning to lose the battle to gravity. Well, it was awfully close to the ground.

“That’s right, darling!” the mother said encouragingly. “That’s Killian!”

Hook started. He hadn’t been anticipating his given name from this woman. And despite what she might be pretending, the child had most certainly not said it first.

Hook’s sudden movement was the last straw for the baby’s momentum.Killian watched in confused fascination as the little thing paused for just a moment, looking nonplussed, and then fell remarkably slowly to its bottom, where it bounced slightly. Whatever it was wearing, it clearly provided some padding.

Hook wondered for a moment if the infant was going to start bawling, in which case he decided he’d find a reason to be elsewhere. And, indeed, the small face worked for a moment, appearing to consider the possibility. But it was distracted in the nick of time by something shining on the ground, which it examined for a moment before managing to grasp the item and beginning to bring it towards its mouth.

“GIDEON, NO !” the woman shouted, startling Hook, who’d almost forgotten she was there. He looked quickly back at her, and in that moment, he recognized her face. It hadn’t meant much to him when she was smiling at him, but in her distress, it came back to him.

A cell. An interrogation. A blow.

He’d wanted to use her for information. She hadn’t known anything, so he’d…

He caught himself grimacing, and then frowned at his own reaction. Well, and why shouldn’t he have struck her? She’d been of no use to him. But why had she looked at him just now as if… as if she was pleased to see him? Women hid their children from him. They certainly didn’t encourage those children to run to him, shouting an admittedly mangled attempt at his true name.

The woman had picked the baby back up–he supposed it must be a lad, if its name was Gideon–and removed the shiny object from his hands, with what looked like a surprising amount of difficulty. Honestly, how much grip strength could those tiny hands possess? Still, she seemed to be struggling to keep the baby in one hand and hold the item out of his reach in another. He considered how he would accomplish such a feat with only the one.

He shook away the ridiculous notion. When would he ever be called upon to hold a baby?

The baby was crying in earnest now, and Killian racked his brains for an excuse to make a hasty retreat. He had just recalled the fact that he didn’t actually need an excuse–he was free to leave at any time, social niceties be damned–when he realized a few things in quick succession. The child’s name was Gideon. Gideon was not Emma’s child, much less his own. The relief of not being tied to her permanently… rather startlingly failed to materialize. He pushed the thought away quickly.

So, Gideon belonged to this woman. As he pieced his memories of her together with what he’d heard this morning, her name came to him.

“Belle,” he said, without really planning to. She had been precious to the Dark One. That was what he’d wanted from her. She’d been… his lover? The implications hit him like a cannonball. Suddenly, the wailing baby looked quite a bit less cute.

Not that he’d thought it was cute in the first place.

Evidently, he’d been correct about her name, because she looked up from her game of keep-away with the squalling infant, as if remembering he was there.

She smiled grimly, holding the baby’s treasure up a bit higher. “Old battery,” she informed him, her voice rueful. He thought for a moment that the battery to which she referred was his against her, however long ago that had been from her perspective, but she seemed to be looking at the object. She approached him. “Here, would you take this away?”

Hook reached for it, not without curiosity. But as Belle drew nearer, Gideon switched his attention from the “battery” to him. He reached out his little hands, tears still glistening on his round cheeks.

Belle laughed. “Well, that works too,” she said, foisting the baby directly into Hook’s arms. His mind sounded an alarm. Something in his brain shouted Hook!! It took him a moment to connect this to the source of his suddenly faster heartbeat. He quickly adjusted himself so that the baby and the hook were as far apart as possible. He’d expected this to take some serious effort–especially since he’d never held a baby in his life. But almost without conscious thought, he’d adjusted his grip so that his hook was pointed down, his shortened arm supporting the baby’s body, with his hand gripping its back.

The bloody madwoman didn’t even look concerned. She’d walked off to dispose of the battery without a second glance.

Uncertain what to do with himself, Hook looked down at the baby’s face. Surely there would be some evidence of malignance, if the Crocodile truly had sired him.

The baby gave him a mostly-toothless smile. He looked fully human, if nothing else. Perhaps Belle had been less than faithful to her scaly lover. Heaven knew better women than her had done the same. Hook squinted at the little eyes, trying to discern a resemblance to his old enemy. When the spark of recognition hit him, it was not as he had expected. Bae .

He had always credited Baelfire with his mother’s eyes. And indeed, he recalled more vividly than he would’ve credited, the color had been all too reminiscent of his lost love. But in this child’s eyes–this child, with no direct connection to dear Milah–he saw the shape of Bae’s. There was only one possible source of any similarity between Baelfire and this child–his half-brother?--but that loathsome resemblance, Killian could not see, no matter how he searched.

“Thanks for watching him,” a voice said from right in front of him. Hook startled, but did not drop the baby. Nor did he accidentally puncture his hide, which was a danger you’d think a mother would’ve been cognizant of. How had he not seen Belle return? Had he been so lost in his thoughts?

Belle was grinning at him. “You’re so good with him,” she said, with the air of someone who is repeating an observation.

“Ahh,” Hook said awkwardly, uncertain what to do with this bit of flagrant misjudgement.

“Aaaaaaaah,” gurgled Gideon, contributing just as much to the conversation.

There was a moment of silence as the baby looked lazily from one of them to the other, drooling slightly.

“Well, it’s almost too late for Christmas shopping, so we’d best be on our way,” said Belle finally, sounding oddly amused. “That is, if you’re willing to part with him?”

Hook felt his face heat. Had he really been so distracted he’d forgotten to return the thing to its mother? It wasn’t as if he wanted to be holding him. He’d simply lost track of time somehow. He’d rarely seen a person so young this close. It was oddly fascinating–in a horrifying sort of way.

As Belle reached for her child, he misjudged her grip and began to let go too soon. He reflexively tried to catch him with both arms, jerking the pointed one away at the last moment and throwing his good hand under him.

Gideon giggled delightedly, and even Belle permitted herself a breathless chuckle once the lad was safely in her arms, obviously more aware than her son of what had almost happened. The barrage of kisses she pressed to his tiny, laughing face were her only concession to the moment of panic.

She cradled the baby to her with one arm, waving goodbye with every appearance of good cheer, as Killian waited for his heart to stop hammering. He continued his interrupted walk, and tried to remember what thought he’d been in the middle of. Ahh, yes, revenge against the Crocodile.

It must have been a half a mile later when it occurred to him–far too late–that the perfect opportunity for revenge had just been utterly squandered. That child was–presumably– his son. Why hadn’t he–why hadn’t it even occurred to him to–bloody hell, he’d gone out of his way to avoid–

His unquestioned fear of accidentally damaging the child now seemed quite preposterous. He could have simply gutted him like a fish.

The thought of gutting a fish made him oddly nauseated. He frowned. He hadn’t tired of fish in centuries at sea. Now seemed a strange time to start. This bloody town was getting to him, somehow. Making him into a landlubber. Making him soft . Making him into the man Emma seemed to think she knew.

What he needed was a night on the Jolly. Alone . What he needed was to get her ready to leave.

He made it the rest of the way to the docks unmolested. There was a moment where he thought he saw a red hat exiting a warehouse, but it vanished before he could be certain.

Once aboard his ship, he took inventory. He would need to top up his rations, although there was a small supply of cans with pictures of food on them–those uncannily lifelike pictures common to this realm. Perhaps he could make it to the next port, if nothing else. Surely he could acquire food there, legitimately or not. He’d noticed with unease that the longer he stayed in this town, the less he recognized himself.

Hook had nearly finished taking stock of his supplies when he nearly tripped over his feet. He froze. After centuries, he knew every inch of the Jolly Roger. There had never before been a loose floorboard in his quarters.

Closer scrutiny confirmed what his feet had uncovered. There was a small space under one of the boards making up his floor. And underneath…

He stared, trying to think through the implications. It seemed his future self had not been so innocent, after all. The man had been keeping secrets from his lovely wife. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as Emma had convinced him–as much as she’d truly seemed to believe. Perhaps he had already begun the plan now taking shape inside Hook’s head.

Hidden on the Jolly, where no one but him could ever have found it, was a bottle of squid ink.

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Tagging the same folks as last time, hope it's still welcome! Adding the "please tag for everything" crew. Let me know if you want to be added or removed for the last chapter!

@undercaffinatednightmarere, @jrob644, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @mie779, @elfiola, @tiganasummertree, @anmylica, @booksteaandtoomuchtv, @everything-person, @teamhook, @laianely, @booksteaandtoomuchtv, @exhaustedpirate, @anmylica, @hollyethecurious, @Gingerchangeling, @caught-in-the-filter, @ultraluckycatnd, @Stahlop, @LFH1226, @darkshadow7, @fleurdepetite, @captainswan-kellie, @motherkatereloyshipper, @sonnicat, @Jrob64, @beckettj, @whimsicallyenchantedrose, @jonesfandomfanatic, @myfearless-love

For any fellow stats nerds, this chapter was 4K words, about twice as long as the average chapter so far. And I have (drumroll) almost another 8K written. I just need to tie together all the scenes I have! Might split it if there's a good splitting place, or I might post it all at once. I'm pretty pleased with how it's turning out, aside from all the [insert words here]-type stuff in the middle.

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #not a day will go by

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