"What is he doing here?" David pulled out his gun and stormed furiously toward Hook. The edge of his eyes were rimmed with red, a sure sign of tears. He shoved the pirate, making him stagger backwards. "Get the hell out of here!"

"David, it's okay," Mary Margaret reached for his hand, but he shoved her away. Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes fluttered shut, letting the tears stream down her cheeks.

"It's your fault!" David yelled, pulling the gun to Hook's head. "It's your fault and you probably don't give a damn."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Hook hissed, glaring at the prince. His glance flicked over to Mary Margaret, whose shoulders were shaking with tears. He pointed at himself with his hook and widened his eyes threateningly, "I'm the captain of this ship. I demand to know."

"Oh, don't act so innocent, pirate," David spat the last word, and Hook flinched, as if the name had physically wounded him. David lowered his arm and threw him an object, which he caught with his good hand. Hook stared at it, twisting it around to examine it from every angle.

"And this is..?"

"This was found by her body. There was poison in your rum bottle, Hook. You poisoned her, you killed her." David's strong armor came crashing down as his voice cracked with disbelief, fury, anguish.

Shock and indignation dawned across Hook's face, and he seemed to crumple. The bottle fell from Hook's hand, landing on the floor with a sickening crash. Pieces of brown crystal scattered across the floor, and his eyes iced over. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, and closed it again. When he spoke, he felt so weak, his words were but a whisper. "She's dead?"

David laughed drily. "Oh, quit the act. You're a villain and we never once trusted you."

Hook ignored him. His face vacant and dead, he walked toward the back. He murmured, "Where is she?"

When nobody answered, he roared, "Where is she?"

Mary Margaret pointed timidly to the back. Hook pushed past her and when he saw her, he took a step backwards. He pulled at his hair angrily with his hand, his head shaking slowly. His voice broke, "No."

Emma's skin was white, completely drained of blood, yet her lips were as pink as they ever were. Her blond locks were tangled and draped over the pillow, hands folded on top of each other and placed on her stomach. He staggered toward her, but David grabbed the collar of his coat and held him back.

"Don't you dare lay a hair on my daughter," he hissed protectively.

"She can't be dead," Hook's voice shook. "She's the strongest lass I know."

Mary Margaret narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the leather-clad pirate in front of her. Realization began to dawn on her face and her hand fluttered to her lips as her wet eyes began to shine in wonder.

"Perhaps true love's kiss will bring her back," Gold's voice was heard from the back of the cabin, interrupting her thoughts. His cane tapped on the wooden floor, louder and louder as he approached the bed where Emma lay.

"So then we're fucked," David retorted.

"David," Mary Margaret mouthed. She shook her head and cocked it toward Hook.

"Oh, hell no." His face flushed with indignation and denial.

She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. She cupped his face softly with her hand and whispered, "It's worth a try."

"He killed her."

"No." Mary Margaret shook her head slowly from side to side, her eyes flickering slightly with hope as she watched the undeniable look of anguish on Hook's face. "I don't think he did."

Without so much as a glance at either of them, Hook shook himself forcefully from David's hold and walked up to the bed. He bent down on one knee and used his hand to brush a lock of hair behind Emma's ears. As if unaware of the present company, he caressed her hair softly, the way he had only dreamed of doing. His eyes traveled across her face, memorizing every detail: the tiny scar above her left eye, her thin pink lips, her long eyelashes. His breath hitched as thoughts ran through his head, so quickly it made him dizzy. Hatred toward himself for not being there to protect her. Doubt that this would work, bitterness because it would not work. True love had to be requited, and he was sure that she would never feel for him what he did for her. But he'd be damned if he didn't try.

He leaned towards her and when he shut his eyes, a tear fell down his cheek for the first time since Milah's death, the first time in over 300 years. He cautiously placed his lips on hers, so softly, it was a soft brush, a quiet whisper.

He opened his eyes slowly and waited. His breath grew shallower and quicker as the seconds ticked by. Acceptance and anguish danced furiously in his eyes, and he began to turn away.

All of a sudden, the world seemed to shake. Hook immediately shifted his body back toward the bed. He watched as a shudder ran through Emma's body and blood began to rush to her cheeks. She opened her eyes slowly, and he was never more glad to see that shade of green. Relief washed over him, and he could feel his face break into a smile, broken but blissful.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmured to her.

Her eyes widened as she realized what he had done. Sitting up slowly, her eyes never left his. She touched a shaking finger to her lip, and before anyone could stop her, punched him across the face with all the strength she could muster.

Hook's face whipped to the left. He licked the corner of his lip, checking the edge of his mouth for blood. Tasting none, he shook his head and chuckled, turning to her.

"There's the Swan I know."