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Who: Neal & Hook
When: 03/19
Where: Hook's room.
What: Wow ghosts are assholes right?

At first, he thought he was goin' crazy. Cabin fever, maybe, for a guy who's used to moving from one place to another at the drop of a hat. Maybe all the sodium in the breakfast food's messing with his head, or maybe... maybe something, anything but the possibility that it was real. It started as glimpses in the mirror, as blurry possibilities disappearing around the corner as he topped off the stairs.

Tamara.

As the days went on, it only got worse. She'd show up, blatantly show up, stand there. Stare at him judgmentally, or cruelly, or with amusement on her features. Wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't answer his questions or his demands when he finally snapped. The posts popping up on his tablet suggest it isn't exactly a rarity for the motel population today, but he seriously doubts most of them have as complicated a history with their ghost as he does.

He's cracking up, and he's gotta talk about it with someone. Not Emma, because talking to your... ex... something about your other ex something when you barely acknowledge the elephant in the room in the first place just ain't something he's interested in doing. His next best option may not be much less weird, but he's sorta on a short supply for friends here.

So after a particularly bad episode of seeing the past, he's out his door and speed-walking toward a one-handed pirate. The knock on Hook's door is urgent, impatient, and he shifts on his toes every second it takes the guy to answer.

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There's a muted amount of surprise when Killian mentions her having a pirate tied up, he looks up through his eyelashes, studying Hook with keen interest. There's an internal struggle for a second or two where he decides whether or not to press this line of questioning, but he knows enough about the reasons behind Hook's vendetta against his father to understand why it would be a powerful, almost consuming bargaining chip for information. He hadn't been aware they'd been in contact, but now that he knows she was a liar and a manipulator, he can't find himself exceedingly surprised.

Within those few seconds, he decides firmly and swiftly that he's happier not knowing the details. That Tamara had used him had been a deep and scathing blow already, finding out all the dirty details would only put salt in the wound. She's dead. He's dead. Everything she'd done to wrong them is in the past now, and he's not interested in living there with it.

So his eyes tug away calmly, settling with a resignation and sadness on the window across Hook's room.

"It wasn't your fault either," He says finally, a sincere furrow in his brow. "What happened to my mom- she made her choice, and my father did what he always did back then. If she's giving you the same kinda look Tamara's been giving me, then... I don't know, you proll'y been tearing your hair out a little too, so..."

It's awkward to say, just like everything seems to be between them, but he feels like it needs to be said. Feels like if it would mean anything to Hook from anyone at all, it would mean the most coming from her son.

Well, something had to be done with the pirate they'd left handcuffed to a radiator. Neal's scheming not-quite fiancee had found him and made use of him. It wasn't that surprising when one thought about it, and it really wasn't that surprising that Hook had helped them either. If he had any defense at all, it was that he hadn't realized her connection to Baelfire... though it was hardly commendable that he hadn't thought to consider it in the slightest. The woman that knew a little too much about Storybrooke even though presumably she'd never been. He hadn't cared, he'd only cared that his poison hadn't taken, and how to get the revenge he'd been fighting so long for.

Wasn't his fault? To Hook, truly, that was arguable. In fact, he thought it was important to be honest with himself about exactly how much was laying at his feet. Exactly how many things he'd destroyed for a revenge Milah had never asked for. The revenge he'd never managed to get, anyway. He wasn't expecting Neal to try and make him feel better. Really, in no way did he deserve that sort of sympathy.

Neal was not likely to convince Killian that what happened to Milah wasn't, at least partly, Killian's fault. Because even in the most objective of ways, it was. He'd pushed Rumpelstiltskin's buttons. He'd been cruel and thoughtless and triggered a fight he didn't have to. He wasn't strong enough to protect her. He hadn't crushed Milah's heart, that would always lay at Rumpelstiltskin's door, but he was far from innocent in what happened to her.

Still, that wasn't the reason he suspected Milah's ghost stared at him with hatred and contempt.

"Do you really think that's the only reason your mum would be angry with me?" Does he have to spell it out? The biting look, the painting of guilt across his features, maybe it was enough. Even if Milah didn't blame him for her death, she would likely have never forgiven him for selling her son to the Lost Boys. For spending centuries in Neverland knowing he was there, alone, and not once reaching out. For pushing toward what he wanted at the expense of her son, not only when he wanted revenge, but when he wanted love. Was it really so unbelievable that Milah would hate the man she saw now? Hook didn't think so. He closed his eyes and turned to look at the door, like even facing Neal after that kind of reminder was a bit too uncomfortable. "I'm sure if she could see me now, she would hate me. The important part is it isn't real."

His guilt was, yes. His guilt was there always, really. The ghost, though, she wasn't.

The sad fact of the matter is Killian knew his mother far better than he ever got the chance to, so it really wouldn't do any good to try and protest Hook's assessment on her favor after all they've been through. They both know he doesn't have any real authority on the matter, and he can't testify otherwise just by virtue of being her son. Hell, for all he knows Milah had been a cold, judgemental woman. He strongly suspects otherwise, all the stories he's heard have said the clear opposite, but he can't say for sure.

What he does know, however, is that the guilt Hook harbors in his heart about everything that happened is clear and real, as apparent as the wallpaper around them, and it's mollifying. His eyes drop with quiet solemnity, accepting that Hook feels like he's got a lot in his past to regret and not bothering to argue against that. The thing is, though, Neal isn't exactly innocent either. He's hurt people, he's- damn, he's hurt the people that matter the most in the world to him, even if he was never an outright villain. He can understand, though, the irredeemable feeling someone can harbor when they don't get to attone the way they'd like. When they can never really get the outcome they'd hope for and erase their mistakes.

He might still carry a grudge about a few things in his past, but he's not angry about it, not vindictive, not a revenge-driven guy, and seeing Hook suffer through it all doesn't hold any appeal to Baelfire. He knows nothing he can say will put a dent in it either, and they can go around in circles all day about who should let go of what, it won't get them anywhere. The most helpful thing he could possibly do right now is change the subject entirely, so he leans over, shifting a little until he can nudge Killian's shoulder with his own. A gentle, pointed sort of gesture.

"Hey, you think that Cashmere girl ever got around to perfecting her booze recipe? I got a couple favors I can call in with her."

Edited 2015-04-08 16:20 (UTC)

He's probably right. They could take turns claiming to be the worst person in the room (and honestly, Neal was never going to win that battle, no matter how guilty he felt about how some things in his life had turned out), and never manage to really resolve it. It was a good choice, to move on after offering something that Hook did hear... he just can't quite accept it. It was a little like being told the sky was green. As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew the truth.

Suggesting they change gears to questionable alcohol might not have been the wisest of calls... yet right about now, with ghosts in the halls? He'd never wanted a drink more. And that was saying something, considering the alcoholic had been wanting a bloody drink about the same time he'd completely dried out. The hotel had weened him off with cruel efficiency, enough to keep him from getting ill but there was nothing to keep him from the feverish desire for a drink. Like that might fix what ailed him.

"I got her some things for it, couldn't say if she managed a brew." It wouldn't be the most favorable tasting thing in the world, but it might be worth a shot right about now. Hook takes the swing in conversation completely, lifting a brow. "She owes you a favor, does she?" He didn't think Cashmere was the sort to offer those lightly, it made him a little curious. Maybe they could discuss that, instead of the ghosts they couldn't help or soothe. It wouldn't change anything, granted, but a fleeting escape was better than none at all.

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