The Price of Freedom ➸ Captain Swan

18. Birthday, Part II

"How are you?" Emma asked slowly, as he barely looked up at her from under his lashes. His eyes were practically shut, and his head slumped back onto to the bed, being too wasted to even hold it up.

"What are you doing?" He diverted, closing his eyes and groaning, his voice coming out hard and slurred. Emma felt her heart squeeze in sadness, but she pushed it away, remembering that she was only here to help him, not fall for him even more so.

She shoved the bread and broth toward him with the small cup of water. "I brought you some food and some water. To help you sober up." She offered a small, sad smile that quickly dissipated when he shot her a scowl.

"I'm sober enough for my liking, so I'd rather you leave me to wallow in my-" He hesitated, trying to come up with a word to describe his emotions. "Feelings," he scoffed, closing his eyes. "Now, leave."

Emma wouldn't be swayed by his harsh words this time. Unlike every other day, she would not leave just because he got angry, or threatened her, or anything else dangerous of the sort. This time, she was going to help him, and she was going to get answers.

"Please, Hook, you are about as close to being sober as the rum itself... Now eat the food and drink the water, or you are going to have a headache you'll regret in the morning." Emma pushed the food into his face, giving him a forceful look.

"Go away, Emma. I don't need your pity." Hook growled, turning on his side, away from her face.

"I'm not pitying you, Hook! Don't you understand, I'm trying to help-"

"Well, I don't need your help!" He yelled as loud as he could in his drunken state, but his voice came out weak, cracking on a few words.

Emma sighed, not knowing how to get through to him. She had tried time and time again before, each with different tactics, but not one seemed to work. "Yes, you do. For some reason, though I have a pretty good guess, you are extremely distressed. More so today than other days. You haven't eaten in over 24 hours, and you have consumed more alcohol in one day, than the whole crew could in a week. Now please, Hook, just talk to me." She was practically begging him now, not realizing how desperate her voice was coming out, but she hated to see him so hurt. Though she never would tell him this, she cared deeply for him. But she didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to get hurt herself. She knew that Hook would probably never love anyone as much as Milah, and though she was no where close to being in love with him, she didn't want to let her feelings break free of the surface, and her—whatever it was—be unrequited.

"The alcohol doesn't faze me."

Emma had continued to ramble so much nonsense, that she hardly heard his small whisper. "What?"

"For three-hundred years, I have had to live through this day. Live through everyday, to seek my revenge, to remember the life draining from her eyes as the crocodile squeezed it from her." He blinked back tears quickly, turning back to face her. "No amount of rum could erase the memory from my brain. Could make me forget for even one moment." A lump lodged in his throat, as he looked down at his hook. "A constant reminder was always there. I tried everything I could to be free of my pain for just one moment, without losing sight of my one goal... Killing the dark one." He let out a shaky breath, eyeing Emma with such intensity she thought her head might bust. "You want to know my past, Emma? Well, it isn't pretty, and it's not all coming out at once, but you already know about Milah... Today, three-hundred years ago, give or take a few, was the day she died."

Emma could feel tears welling up in her eyes for the sadness that he felt, and she looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry." She didn't have any words, and she felt incredibly horrible, because only twenty years ago, on the day that he was suffering the most of the year, she was born.