#cs divergence

[everything-person]

Just when they thought they could move on the past comes back to them. Starting with Marian the Graham appearing in the sheriffs station. Soon Storybrooke becomes a place of inbetween life and death. The Savior tried to juggle the towns epidemic with her own personal conflicts that come with it.

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge

- Chapter 3

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. To reward you for your patience, I will give you another chapter after this one, for a total of 4. (You would have gotten it anyway because I am apparently just too wordy)

Happy birthday again to @kmomof4 and thank you again to @hookedmom for betaing this story.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M (for eventual smut in chapter 4)

Words (Ch. 3): 6666

Posted on Tumlr - Chap. 1 Chap. 2 and also on ffn and Ao3

Story found under the cut

*********

As the ship got closer to Storybrooke, Hook noticed Emma frequently glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. When the lights of the town appeared on the horizon, he saw her draw in a deep breath, turn, and walk toward the steps leading to the helm. Slowly climbing them, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Is there something I can help you with, Love?” he asked.

“I was just wondering…what do you plan to do, now that you killed Gold?”

He chuckled lowly. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

“Technically, you’re still under arrest. Now we’ll have to add escaping from jail to your charges.”

Hook reached up and scratched behind his ear. “Probably another assault charge, too.”

She widened her stance and crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“I may have knocked your father unconscious with a pry bar.”

Rubbing her forehead in irritation, Emma sighed, “You’re a walking menace, you know that?”

“I couldn’t just sit in that concrete brig, while you were off by yourself with the bloody Dark One.”

Her eyes shot up. “You broke out of jail because you thought you had to save me?”

He dipped his head in a slight nod. “Aye.”

“Why?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“I knew what the crocodile was capable of doing. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Even though he needed you to help him navigate his way to his son, you were disposable once you found him.”

“You think he would have killed me? Knowing I had a son waiting for me back in Storybrooke?”

“He killed Milah knowing she had a son. Why would you be any different?” He watched her mull over her question. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you think Baelfire will stay in Storybrooke?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wish for him to stay?”

“I don’t, but if Henry does, I guess I’ll have to accept it. First, I have to figure out a way to tell Henry about him, though.”

“You haven’t told him about his father?”

Her face scrunched into a grimace, something that Hook found to be quite adorable. “I sort of lied to him about Neal. I told him his dad was a firefighter who died saving people from a burning building.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would ever see Neal again. And also because I didn’t want my kid to know his father was a lying thief who abandoned me.”

Hook glanced at Bae, still sitting beside his father’s body. He was glowering at them and Hook wondered if he had heard what Emma said, or was simply angry seeing Emma talking to him.

“The lad seems to be quite adaptable. I’m sure once he hears the whole story, he’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” Emma sighed. “The thing is, it’s already complicated enough trying to juggle his time between me and Regina. If Neal is added to the mix, I’ll get to see Henry even less.”

“He does have a right to see the boy, though, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Neal abandoned him, too. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he took off.”

“You don’t think that the two of you, for the boy’s sake…”

“Not a chance!” Emma snapped. “Look, a lot has changed since Neal and I were together. I’ve matured and I’m assuming he has, too. But the only feelings I have for him are…well, they aren’t anything close to love, let’s put it that way.”

Hook nodded, trying to keep the happiness he felt about her declaration from showing on his face.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said. “I guess I just needed to blow off some steam, and you happened to be available.”

“I’m very happy to oblige, Swan,” Hook assured her.

Emma shifted her gaze forward and saw they were rapidly approaching Storybrooke. “If you want to sail away once we get Gold’s body off the ship, I won’t stop you,” she said conspiratorially.

“Why, Sheriff, do you intend to set your prisoner free?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I’m just saying that since you don’t have any reason to stay in Storybrooke…”

“Ah, but I do have a reason, Love.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You do?”

“You promised to join me for dinner, remember?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me you would give up your chance at freedom just to keep our deal?”

“A gentleman keeps his word, and as I told you atop the beanstalk, I’m always a gentleman.”

“You know I’ll have to lock you up as soon as you step foot off this ship.”

“And you know I won’t stay in that cell.”

“Seriously?”

“Pirate,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to dock the ship, Hook, or are you two going to keep making eyes at each other and let it crash into the pier?” Baelfire asked, his tone venomous.

“We don’t make eyes,” Emma said, rolling hers.

“Coulda fooled me,” he grumbled.

Hook began giving directions to the two of them, as he guided the ship into a berth. Emma was quick to follow, but Bae purposely lagged, earning him some sharp words from the captain.

Once the ship was tied off, Emma pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my dad. Hopefully, he can arrange transportation for Gold’s body as quietly as possible. I don’t want Belle to find out about his death until I get a chance to tell her.”

Hook and Bae stood on either side of her as she spoke to her father. When she ended the call, she looked from one to the other. “Are you going with me to talk to Belle?” she asked Neal.

“I thought you were going to take me to meet our son.”

“Not tonight. It’s late and he’ll be in bed.”

“But I…”

Emma angrily planted her hands on her hips. “Neal, if you want to meet him, you’re playing by my rules, got it?”

He stared at her for a few moments before dropping his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come with you to talk to Belle and wait until tomorrow to meet Henry.”

Pivoting to face Hook, she said, “You can stay on your ship tonight. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’ll deal with you then.”

“I look forward to it, Love,” he smirked.

If the look Baelfire gave him could kill, there would have been another body joining Gold’s on the deck.

*********

Hook lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his cabin and replaying the events of the day. It should have been the most satisfying day in his long life. Milah’s murderer was finally dead and the darkness was permanently dispelled. Milah was avenged, her soul could rest. For the first time in hundreds of years, he should be able to sleep peacefully.

Then why was he so restless?

Oddly enough, the stabbing of Rumplestiltskin and his subsequent death weren’t foremost in his thoughts. It was his interactions with Emma Swan - every word, gesture and facial expression - which were keeping him awake. She was under his skin and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He felt guilty about the direction of his thoughts. Ever since that most horrible of days, he mourned his Milah and promised anew that he would love her until the day he finally died. Sometimes he sought female companionship, but it was only ever for a single night, never with the same woman twice, and never on his ship. He didn’t want to besmirch the love he and Milah had for one another by bringing another into their bed. Now, he was lying here, his mind filled with images of a lass whom he longed to know better and whose heart he had decided to win.

“I’m sorry, Milah,” he whispered into the darkness.

Knowing sleep was going to continue to elude him, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Grabbing his flask off of the nightstand, he took a healthy swig and savored the familiar burn down his throat. Then he got up and lit the lantern on his desk. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well read.

He gave up after ten minutes. Sighing, he slammed the book closed, then donned his leather duster and ascended the ladder. He walked the decks of the Jolly Roger, rubbing non-existent smudges from her highly polished railings, double checking that her sails were folded correctly, and trying to convince himself that she was the only love he needed in his life.

The problem was, his heart wasn’t listening to logic.

Sleep didn’t come until an hour before daybreak. Thankfully, he didn’t enter REM sleep, so he wasn’t able to determine which woman would appear to him in his dreams.

*********

It was almost noon when Emma made it back to his ship. “Still here, I see,” she called up to him from where she stood on the pier.

“I assured you I wasn’t going to leave.”

She eyed him critically. “Are you alright? You look like hell.”

“Why, thank you very much, Swan. How kind of you to notice.”

“I thought you would be the happiest person on Earth, now that you’ve finally gotten your revenge.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the day was too stimulating to allow me to sleep well.” Seeing her about to speak again, he cut in. “Where is Baelfire this morning?”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. “I already regret bringing him here. He’s driving me crazy, asking to meet Henry.”

“You haven’t introduced the two of them yet, I take it?”

“No. Henry was at Regina’s last night and was off to school before I woke up this morning. Neal thinks I should pull him out of school. I keep telling him I want the chance to talk to Henry first, but he’s really pushing it. I managed to sneak away from him while he and Belle were making arrangements to bury Gold.”

While she was talking, Hook was making his way down the gangplank to stand in front of her. “I have no doubt you will stand your ground against him, Love.”

“I know. It’s just…things were good between me and Henry since Mary Margaret and I got back to Storybrooke. Now I have to tell him I lied to him and I’m afraid he’s going to hate me.”

Hook’s mind flashed to Baelfire’s reaction when he discovered the drawing of Milah in the captain’s quarters. His words were full of hatred and betrayal. To this day, he hadn’t forgiven him. Hook certainly hoped Henry wouldn’t react the same way.

Hoping to divert Emma’s worries, he asked, “How did Belle take the news last night?”

“Just as you would expect; she’s devastated. She was relieved to know that Gold found his son before he died. We didn’t tell her Neal was furious with his father for killing his mother and refused to forgive him. I’m assuming Belle didn’t know Gold’s role in Milah’s death.”

“Do you think if she did, she would have ever become involved with the bloody demon?”

“No, probably not. Belle tries to find the best in everyone, but hearing that bit of news might have been too much for even her.”

“You told her the, uh, the circumstances of his death?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say you’re definitely not her favorite person. She’s still recovering from the gunshot wound you gave her and now you killed her boyfriend.”

Hook grimaced. Thinking of the Dark One as someone’s ‘boyfriend’ turned his stomach. Not wanting to think about Rumplestiltskin anymore, he changed the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, Swan?”

“I have to take you back to jail. Everyone in town knows you’ve returned. Letting you go free after you shot someone isn’t going to sit well with them.”

“Even though I rid your fair town and the world of the Dark One’s power?”

“The people in town don’t know that yet. Belle isn’t planning to tell them until after Gold is buried. I’m sure the news will leak out soon. Until then, I don’t want Leroy running around town yelling, ‘Killer on the loose! Killer on the loose!’”

Reaching around behind her back, she extracted handcuffs and held them up between them.

“Again?” Hook sighed. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Standard procedure,” she explained. “Hand and hook behind your back.”

With a dramatic display of reluctance, he did as told. They walked down the pier and onto the beach, then over to the squad car in a moment of deja vu.

On the way to the sheriff’s station, Hook asked, “How is your father, Swan?”

“He has a headache and a good sized lump on his head, but he’ll be fine. You’re not his favorite person, either. In fact, you don’t have many people on your side in this town, which is why I figured you would take the opportunity to leave when I offered it to you.”

“There’s only one person I wish to have on my side, Love. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re really adamant about having that dinner with me, aren’t you?”

“I would never have allowed the bloody crocodile aboard my ship if you hadn’t agreed to that. I fully intend to collect what is owed to me.”

“You might have to settle for Granny’s takeout in your cell, while I eat at my desk.”

“I believe the deal was dinner on my ship.”

“Yeah, well, you might be locked up for quite a while, depending on what Regina says.”

“What does Regina have to do with it?”

Emma pulled up to the station, put the car in park and turned it off. Twisting in her seat, she said, “We don’t have a court system in Storybrooke, so the mayor decides on punishment for crimes. That’s the way she set it up during the curse and we never changed it. Considering the fact you killed her mother, I doubt Regina will be lenient toward you.”

“Regina and I had…an understanding before the curse was cast. I’m sure she will consider that.”

“What sort of understanding?” Emma asked.

Hook leaned forward, putting his face close to the divider between the front and back seat. “Let’s just say we also had a deal. It took a while, but I finally kept my end of it.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You made a deal with Regina to kill her mother?”

“The two of them never had what you might call a close mother-daughter relationship.”

“Just when I thought I heard it all,” Emma mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door.

After releasing him from the back seat, she walked him into the station, her hand gripping his elbow. Upon entering the main area, David rose from the desk, strode across the room and punched Hook in the face.

“Dad!” Emma yelled.

“That’s for the last time we met,” David said, shaking his hand slightly.

Hook licked his bloodied lip before replying, “I thought you might be a bit more genial, considering I brought your daughter home safely.”

“You knocked all the genial out of me when you hit me with that crowbar.”

Emma led Hook across the room, removed the cuffs, unlocked the cell and gestured for him to enter. Dabbing at his lip, he walked in, winking at her as he passed. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face.

She slammed the door closed, then turned as an afterthought. “I almost forgot. Give me your hook.”

“If you want to hold something, Love, I have a perfectly good hand,” he offered slyly, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers.

She huffed, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up again. “Just hand over the hook, funny guy.” As he twisted the hook out of the brace, she added, “And while you’re at it, give me whatever you used to pick the lock last time.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I escaped and sailed away, Swan.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave until I kept my part of the bargain.”

“Ah, yes, our dinner together,” he said, glancing toward David as he said it. His reaction to Hook’s statement didn’t disappoint.

“Your what?” he shouted.

“Calm down, Dad,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I had to make a deal with him so he would agree to bring Gold back to Storybrooke. It’s just dinner.”

“On my ship,” Hook contributed.

“On his ship?!”

Emma threw Hook a frustrated glare, before turning to her father. “I’ll say it again - it’s just dinner. And it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Regina will have to decide what to do with him. In fact, I need to go to her office to bring her up to speed.”

David checked his watch. “I’m supposed to be over at the cemetery in ten minutes to guard against anyone going in while they’re burying Gold.”

Emma sighed. “We probably shouldn’t leave Hook alone. Can you get Leroy to come over and keep an eye on him again?”

“Is that really necessary?” Hook asked.

David narrowed his eyes at Hook for several seconds before picking up the phone.

Turning back to Hook, Emma stated, “Guess that answers your question. Now, hand it over.”

With a dramatic sigh, he passed his hook through the bars into her waiting hand. She accepted it, then held up her other hand. He threw her his most charming smile, but she just tilted her head and speared him with another meaningful glare. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and removed the long hairpin.

As she accepted it, she asked, “Why do you have this thing, anyway?”

“As you can imagine, managing all of these buttons one-handed is quite difficult, so I use that to help pull them through the buttonholes.”

“I think you missed a few,” she murmured.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” he cheeked.

She turned away, but not before Hook saw the blush that colored her cheeks. With a satisfied smirk, he crossed the cell and took a seat on the cot.

David left before Leroy arrived, giving Hook some time alone with Emma. “Do you have a preference of what to eat for our dinner together, Swan?”

“You’re awfully presumptuous, thinking you’ll be out of jail anytime soon.”

“I did Regina a favor by killing Rumplestiltskin. I have a feeling she’s going to take that into consideration when she decides my fate.”

“People in town love and respect Belle. They won’t be happy if you get off scot-free for shooting her.”

Hook scuffed his boots back and forth on the floor. “I do feel bad for shooting the lass. I’m glad I only wounded her.”

“At least you’re remorseful,” Emma remarked.

Before Hook could respond, Leroy burst into the office. “I’m here, Sister,” he blustered. Walking straight up to the bars of the cell, he spouted, “No funny business. I’m watching you, Pirate.”

Hook stood and sauntered over to stand in front of him, “Yes, Dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Emma said.

Leroy and Hook continued glaring at each other for several seconds, until Leroy broke eye contact to say, “Charming didn’t tell me why he isn’t able to be here. Is he out on a call?”

Emma and Hook exchanged a quick look. “Um, yeah. Something like that,” Emma mumbled vaguely.

“Well, as long as one of you is back by dinner time. Granny will run out of bacon for my burger if I get there too late.”

“It looks like you could afford to forgo dinner now and then,” Hook muttered.

“Behave yourself, Hook,” Emma cut in before Leroy got a chance to respond.

After she left, Leroy sat down and began swiveling in the chair, keeping an eye on Hook. “So, I’m assuming you followed Sheriff Swan to New York after you knocked out her father?”

“You must be the smart dwarf,” Hook said, resuming his spot on the cot.

“Then how are the two of you back, but there’s no sign of Gold? Did you leave him in New York?”

“I have no idea of the Dark One’s location.” He wasn’t technically lying. The darkness dissipated, but he didn’t know where it went.

Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook shrugged. “It makes me no difference what you believe. I went to New York to ensure Swan’s safety and as you can see, I accomplished that objective.”

Leroy leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sweet on the sheriff?”

Hook very deliberately laid down and turned toward the wall, his back facing the dwarf.

“Because if you are, you’re never going to get her,” Leroy continued. “Her parents and most of the town won’t allow it. She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.”

Hook closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep so he wouldn’t have to listen to the grumpy man any longer. It didn’t work. Even though Leroy stopped talking, the last words he said kept replaying themselves over and over in Hook’s mind.

She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.

*********

Word of Gold’s death did indeed leak out, and soon the entire town was aware that they were free of the Dark One forever. Besides expressing their condolences to Belle, they didn’t show any signs of sadness over his loss.

Neal was greeted with trepidation. Granny reluctantly offered him a room at the boarding house and reassured the townspeople that she would keep an eye on him. If he showed any inkling of being like his father, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her crossbow.

Regina stopped in at the sheriff’s station the day after the ship arrived back from New York. After telling David she needed to speak to Hook privately, she stepped in front of his cell and glared at him through the bars.

“Your Majesty,” he drawled. “Or should I say ‘Madam Mayor’?”

“Is it true you’re responsible for my mother’s death, Hook?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Word gets around. Now answer the question.”

“Aye, Love. I finally carried out your noble request.”

“Once the curse was cast, the request was null and void.”

“I wasn’t made aware of any alteration in plans or any changes in your feelings toward your mother. Just because I didn’t do it when you initially sent me to do so, the result is still the same. Now don’t try to tell me you grieve her passing, or that you would have welcomed her to Storybrooke with open arms.”

Regina’s mouth tightened into a straight line before she answered, “You know I didn’t want her here.”

He gave a slight nod. “That’s correct, so I did you a favor. And another by killing Gold. I’d say you owe me, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you think I should give you some huge reward,” she growled. “What’s your price, Hook?”

He rose from the cot and slowly moved to stand in front of her. “My freedom will do nicely.”

Regina’s perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s all you want? That doesn’t sound like the greedy pirate I know.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My life’s goal has been met. I have enough doubloons to last me for another three hundred years. What more could I possibly need?”

She crossed her arms and studied him. “If I grant your freedom, I assume you will leave town.”

“Never assume anything.”

“Why would you stay?”

Hook studied his fingernails. “I don’t believe my plans are any of your business.”

“I’m the mayor of Storybrooke. Everything is my business.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You might control your townspeople, but…”

“I brought lunch, Hook.” He looked over Regina’s shoulder to see Emma coming into the room, holding a brown paper bag aloft.

Regina heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to look over her shoulder. “Didn’t your idiot father tell you I wanted to speak to Hook without being interrupted?”

“I haven’t seen David,” Emma replied coolly. “I’ve been out on patrol all morning. I’m happy to report no one is breaking any laws.”

“No one except him,” Regina said, jerking her head towards Hook.

Emma set the bag of food on the desk. “Well, he’s locked up, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him.”

“Apparently he broke out once before and he’s a pirate. Locking him up doesn’t guarantee he won’t break out.”

“He doesn’t have any reason to break out this time, do you, Hook?”

“Alas, no. All of my objectives have been met.”

“I still don’t trust him,” Regina said.

“You needn’t worry, Madam Mayor. Your sheriff is quite efficient,” Hook said. “She particularly enjoys using her handcuffs on me, don’t you Swan?”

He was satisfied to see her cheeks turn pink. She changed the subject by asking, “Have you decided on his punishment yet?”

“Perhaps she’ll sentence me to house arrest with you. Do you have a spare bed? If not, I’m willing to share.”

Regina looked back and forth between them, her mouth set in a firm line. “Miss Swan, if you don’t mind, I haven't finished speaking with your boyfriend.”

Hook suppressed a chuckle, as Emma’s mouth dropped open. “My boyfriend? Hook? What’s your problem, Regina?”

“My problem,” Regina spat, “is that you’re impeding my job.”

“Fine,” Emma shot back. “I’ll be in the other room, eating lunch. When you finally finish your job, let me know.” Picking up the sack, she turned on her heel and went into the small inner office, slamming the door behind her.

Seeing her stand up to Regina filled Hook with pride and more than a little desire. Emma Swan was fiery and fierce, just the way he liked his women.

With effort, he turned his attention back to Regina. She was drumming the manicured fingernails of her right hand on her left bicep. “I’m willing to bet one of your reasons for remaining in Storybrooke involves Miss Swan.”

“I would have never guessed you were one for gambling, Your Majesty.”

She glared at him as Hook stared back at her unflinchingly, plastering a bored look on his face. After nearly a minute, she called loudly, “Sheriff Swan, come out here!”

Emma emerged, chewing and rubbing her hands on her jeans. “You bellowed?”

“I do not bellow,” Regina remarked snarkily. “I’ve come to a decision about this prisoner. He needs to be punished for the attempt he made on Ms. French’s life. Therefore, I sentence him to one month in jail. By that time, maybe he’ll be ready to board his ship, sail away and be some other realm’s problem.”

With that, she spun around and walked out the door, heels clicking on the cement floor.

Emma watched her go, then turned to face Hook. “Looks like you’re going to be our guest for a while longer.”

“Aye, but at least my jailer is a welcome sight to behold.”

“You told me you won’t stay in this cell. Do I need to make sure someone is here to watch you around the clock? Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase you down every other day.”

“As tempting as it is to have you running after me, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not escape.”

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him to detect any trace of deceit. Finding none, she said, “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Hook.”

He wrapped his hand around the bars of the cell. “You’re going to take my advice and try something new, eh Swan?”

Hooking her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans, she shrugged. “You went all the way to New York to make sure I was safe, and didn’t leave when I gave you the chance. I guess you’ve earned my trust.”

Hood couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. The fact that she trusted him was definitely a step in the right direction toward winning her heart. He reached through the bars and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the silky feel of it against his calloused skin. “I’m very happy to hear that, Love.”

She was just opening her mouth to reply, when Baelfire entered the room. Hook’s eyes shifted to the other man, causing Emma to look over her shoulder. As soon as she saw Neal, she stiffened.

Bae stopped short when he saw how close the couple was standing. Then he saw that Hook had a lock of Emma’s hair wrapped around his finger and his face turned crimson.

“What’s going on here, Ems?” he blustered.

“Nothing,” she answered tightly.

“Doesn’t look that way to me. Looks like the fucking pirate is trying to seduce you, just like he did my mother.”

“Give it a rest, Neal. He’s behind bars and that’s where he has to stay for a month.”

“A month?” he shouted. “That’s all he gets for killing my father?”

“Actually,” Hook began, “that sentence is for shooting Belle French. Regina felt I did the town a favor by ridding it of the Dark One.”

“What the fuck? You’re just going to get away with murder?” Neal raged.

“Oh, come on, Neal,” Emma groaned. “You’re the one who said to just let your dad die. Now you want to act like the grieving son? I don’t buy it.”

He walked over to stand in front of the cell, looking back and forth between Hook and Emma. Hook untangled his finger from her hair and pulled his hand back. As much as he wanted to smirk at the angry man, he decided it was best not to add fuel to the fire. He didn’t want to put Emma in an even more uncomfortable position.

Bae turned his back toward Hook and tried to step between Emma and the bars. “Isn't it about time for Henry to come home from school, Ems?”

She heaved a sigh and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “School lets out in half-an-hour. Once my dad gets back to the station, I’ll leave to go pick Henry up.”

“Cool. I’ll come with you.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a fierce scowl. Hook was quite happy not to be on the receiving end of it. “No, you will not. I’ve already told you that I need to talk to Henry first. I want to prepare him to meet you.”

“What’s there to prepare? You just say, ‘Henry, this is your father.’ What’s so hard about that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Neal! He thinks his father is dead!”

“Why the hell would he think that?” Neal yelled.

“Because that’s what I told him! I said you were a firefighter who died as a hero…”

Neal leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from hers. “What the fuck, Emma? Why would you do something so idiotic?”

Emma didn’t back away from him as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Would you rather I told him that his dad was a thief and a liar who abandoned me and let me go to jail for a crime he committed?”

When Hook saw Neal grasp Emma’s arms, he had enough. “Let go of her, Bae!” he demanded, reaching through the bars to grab the other man’s jacket.

“Stay out of this, Hook!” Baelfire shouted, jerking away from Hook’s grip, letting go of Emma at the same time. “She’s not yours to protect!”

“She’s not yours, either!” Hook shot back.

“That’s enough!” Emma exclaimed. “Neal, you need to leave. After I’ve had a chance to talk to Henry, I’ll call you. That is, if he wants to meet you today. If he needs more time to process everything, that’s what he’ll get. And you will agree to it, or you won’t meet him at all. Is that clear?”

“I came all this way and he’s my son. You can’t keep me from seeing him.”

“I can and I will if you don’t back off. Go back to your room at the boarding house and wait for me to call.”

Hook watched carefully to see what Baelfire would do next. If he continued to defy and bully Emma, Hook would find some way to get out of the cell and go to her aid.

After several more moments of glowering at Emma, Bae finally stomped out of the office, nearly running into David, who was on his way in.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“He’s demanding to see Henry and I’m making him wait. I need to talk to Henry first.”

David took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I can understand his impatience. He just found out he has a son; it’s only natural to be anxious to meet him.”

“You’re taking his side?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t realize you two are on opposite sides. I thought you were, um…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you think we’re together?”

“Well, you do have a child together and you just found each other again after so many years.”

She put her hands on her hips. “If I had my way, I would have never seen him again.”

David’s jaw dropped. “But Mary Margaret and I thought the two of you…”

“Well, you thought wrong!” she spouted, then angrily grabbed her keys and pushed past him.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door through which she just disappeared. Almost to himself, he murmured, “I’m so confused. Why wouldn’t she want to…”

“Be with Baelfire?” Hook interrupted. “Have you ever asked your daughter about the father of her child?”

David turned around, the look on his face making it clear the answer to Hook’s question was ‘no’. Instead, he said, “That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not, but Emma did share with me what happened between them, and let’s just say she has good reason not to want to be with him.”

“Why would she tell you and not her mother and I?”

Hook shrugged. “I think she felt a bit…trapped by the whole situation of him coming to Storybrooke and she wanted to share her side of the story with someone. I just happened to be available.”

“Did he hurt her?”

“Not physically, but that’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my story to tell.”

David eyed him critically for several seconds, then stepped closer to the cell. “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, how could she? You’re nothing but a pirate.” With those words, he spun on his heel and walked away.

The cocky smirk on Hook’s face faded as he watched David go. For the second time in two days, he had been told that Emma Swan would never be with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. The one consolation he had was that neither time, it was Emma who said it. He would have to cling to the hope that she didn’t feel the same way.

*********

Hook didn’t expect to see Emma any more that day, so when she came into the station soon after he finished eating the meal Granny provided, he was pleasantly surprised. However, seeing the agitated state she was in, his pleasure soon turned to concern.

“I thought I was finishing out this shift,” David said.

“I know, but I figured you would want to spend the evening with Mary Margaret, and since Henry is staying at Regina’s…”

“What? Why is he doing that? I thought you were introducing him to Neal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say things didn’t go as planned,” she said sadly.

“Emma, if you need to…”

“Look, Dad,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll be home in a couple of hours, okay? Maybe by then, I’ll be ready to tell you what happened.”

Hook thought David was going to argue with her, but after a few moments, he blew out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll see you at home. Be careful.” After kissing her forehead, he gave Hook a warning look, then left.

Emma dropped into a chair, threw her head back and groaned.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

She was motionless for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she sat up and put her head in her hands. “Not really. Henry is very pissed at me for lying to him. He had no interest in meeting Neal and insisted on going to Regina’s because he doesn’t want to be around me. Then when I called Neal, he went off on me, saying it was all my fault his son refused to meet him.”

“I’m sorry, Love.”

She didn’t reply. He felt helpless seeing her sitting there, looking so defeated.

When she finally stood up, she paced back and forth in front of his cell. “Why did I ever think I could do this? I know nothing about being a mom. I probably screwed him up for life. First I gave him away, then I lied to him about his father…”

“Emma, stop,” Hook said firmly.

She stood still, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. It sounds to me like you made a very courageous decision by giving him up for adoption. Bae abandoned you and left you with very little choice. As far as telling him Baelfire was dead, you had no idea Henry would have a chance to meet him someday. You wanted to spare him the pain of knowing his father was a bloody coward, just like his own father before him. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong with telling Henry he was a hero. It was far kinder than the truth.”

“He was so angry,” she whispered hoarsely. “He may never forgive me.”

Hook’s heart ached for her. “Come here, Love,” he said softly, stretching his hand out through the bars.

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Emma, look at me,” he coaxed.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. Even more slowly, she reached forward to place her hand in his. He gave a little tug to pull her closer. When she was near enough, he attempted to put his arms around her, frustrated that the cell bars were between them.

“This is stupid,” she said, turning her back and walking away. He almost groaned in frustration, until he realized she was pulling a set of keys out of the desk drawer. She approached the cell again, hesitating briefly before unlocking the door. After swinging it open, she stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot.

Hook stepped through the doorway and into her space. Locking eyes with her, he silently asked permission and upon receiving it, gently pulled her into his arms.

At first, her body was stiff and unyielding, but as he rubbed his hand and wrist up and down her back, she gradually relaxed and let him comfort her. “You’re a good mother, Emma. Henry knows that, and he will forgive you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she mumbled into his chest.

“Because I know first-hand how hard it is to stay away from you.” He heard her scoff lightly, but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how long she let him hold her, but he relished every second.

Finally pulling away from him, she said, “Thank you, Hook.”

Using his finger to lift her chin, he looked into her beautiful jade eyes and requested, “Will you please call me Killian, Love?”

She blinked, then gave him a small smile. “Okay…Killian.”

*********

Thank you for reading! The final chapter is probably about half written, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait for it.

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[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 ONe Shot: "On Wings of Storm"

This canon divergent AU was intended to be a shifter one shot, but I don't know that the character is a shifter in the strictest sense, as there is a curse and magic involved. It is set sometime post Milah's death in Season Two, and then embarks on a different path from there...

I apologize ahead of time for any errors that I might need to come back and fix; I was writing this right up to midnight and didn't have enough time to edit fully. My beta for this year's @cssns @myfearless-love did absolutely brilliant work, catching so many typos and run-ons and confusing phrases. She was invaluable and deserves so much love for all her help! Anything left over is 100% my fault for hurrying to finish.

**I am thrilled to be reposting now with the gorgeous cover artwork created for me by @motherkatereloyshipper! She captured so well the drama and intensity of the ship's danger during the storm and the petrel coming to her aid. I just love it!! Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH @motherkatereloyshipper!**

Please enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think!!

Summary: Killian Jones has lost everything and everyone he ever held dear. All that is left for him is vengeance and pain. None could have expected the strange twist of Fate that would change everything, or the surprising companion that will come to touch his heart in ways he would have no longer thought possible.

“On Wings of Storm” 

By: @snowbellewells

“Attention, you bilge rats!” His angry voice rang out unmistakably over the planks of the majestic ship - carrying clearly despite the buffeting wind and rolling sea beneath. The power in the sharply accented words cracked like a whip, causing every member of his crew to flinch nervously and stand at attention to do their captain’s bidding and avoid his ire. Those who made their home and livelihood upon the Jolly Roger - even the few remaining grizzled veterans who’d once served on her decks when she was the Jewel of the Realm - knew her captain’s temper was perpetually on a knife’s edge. The harshness and cruelty of the lives they all lived, and the loss and betrayal Captain Jones had weathered, would bow and break many. It was understood not to cross those who had survived and been hardened by it.

Yet, even with that knowledge, the cause of his current tirade was unclear. When the ship had docked at the remote port, some had stayed aboard to handle various duties and keep watch while others went ashore to roam and shop, or to visit inns or brothels, but all had been attending to their assigned duties and nothing was amiss. However, the thunderous look upon their Captain’s dark brow spoke volumes. Something was amiss, and he would see it put to rights. Pity the fool who was found at fault. The cutlass at his hip bounced gently against his leg, and the still awe-inspiring metal appendage which had replaced his left hand mere months ago glinted menacingly in the low moonlight as he paced back and forth, eyeing each man with an intensity that would make anyone tremble.

It was old Mullins who finally dared to put the question to the Captain gingerly when no further explanation or action seemed forthcoming. “What is it that’s angered ye, Cap’n?” he queried respectfully, head bowed in deference as his speech drew Killian Jones’ attention. “We’ve been here aboard the Jolly and at our post since ye left. Did something happen on shore?”

Killian’s attention zeroed intently on the graying Mullins, who quickly gave another bob of his chin in respect or acknowledgement. Not about to contradict their captain, but also not knowing what had upset him, none of them could move to make it right. Those piercing blue eyes, like ice chips in Mullins’ shuddering imagination, beneath the dark, forbidding brows he used to great effect, seemed to be searching his subordinate’s face and sifting his words for any hint of dissension or deception. Finding nothing of the kind, the volatile man’s gaze swept over the rest of the crew assembled around him nervously for some time before offering the explanation in a menacing growl.

“It has come to my attention - and make no mistake, even a scoundrel such as meself has loyal allies - that some of you are dissatisfied with your position aboard this vessel. Let me be crystal clear; a place aboard the Jolly Roger is an honor and a prize - she is a marvel unmatched in speed and quality throughout the realm. However, your presence here is entirely voluntary. I have never, and will never, tolerate the enslavement of any crew member on the Jolly. Such dishonor shall not taint her decks. So, if any of you wish to depart, then by all means, leave now. But be warned; spreading false tales of captivity or coercion, thereby sullying our flag and reputation, will not be tolerated. Such lies will be rooted out and those responsible will face severe consequences.”

He paused, clearly waiting for any who might be bold enough to disembark under his watchful eye and be noted for their decision. None upon the deck moved or spoke, and old Mullins noted sadly that the only sound or hint of motion was the heavy breathing that escaped the Captain’s mouth and the heaving of his chest, evidenced by what had clearly been an angry charge from the town’s center and his impassioned outburst.

As Jones finally seemed to regain control, sending him back to work with a brisk order, Mullins couldn’t help thinking resignedly about how much the Captain had changed, in the past few months especially, but also in the years since his brother’s death. The man Captain Jones had once been - that promising but naive young lieutenant - seemed like a distant memory. Few of the current crew members had served under Jones’ proud and honorable older brother, Liam, who had been tragically struck down in his prime by treachery. Liam’s untimely death had altered the course of all their lives in ways none could have anticipated. Mullins found it painful to remember the wide-eyed, gangly lieutenant Killian had once been. That young man had spoken passionately of glory for the crown and the name of Jones, ready to follow his Captain anywhere. He had believed in righteousness and the power of individuals to shape their own destinies. That idealistic youth had hardened into a bitter and implacable man. The once-noble Killian Jones now sought only vengeance, becoming known and feared across the seas as the dreaded villain, Captain Hook. Mullins sighed and returned to his task; there was naught to be done for it.

Meanwhile, Killian Jones stood at the helm, staring out into the dark night. He sought fruitlessly for the rhythmic comfort of the waves against the hull of his beloved vessel, the solid planks beneath his feet, and the cool night air brushing over his face to ease his inner turmoil. These familiar elements had soothed him many times before, yet his agitation remained as he waited, forcing himself to take steady, regular breaths.

As he stood there, alone amongst his crew, Killian’s gaze drifted towards the gray, evening-darkening horizon. A shape materialized from the gathering twilight, drawing nearer - an unmistakable bird on the wing, yet not the familiar silhouette of gull or pelican often seen at sea. Morbidly curious, Killian watched as the creature approached, strangely silent compared to the trilling calls of most avian species he knew. Its relatively small body rose and fell on the air currents, rather than gliding with ease, weaving unsteadily in its course.

Despite having recently displayed harsh temper and callousness, Killian found himself holding his breath with each flap of wings that sent the bird painstakingly higher in the sky again, inexplicably concerned it might plummet into the rolling waves below.

As if drawn by his thoughts, the bird’s flight began to descend lower and lower. The men diligently working around him on the deck - and avoiding eye contact to steer clear of his ire a second time - seemed completely unaware of the creature’s plight. Killian finally released a tight breath as the dark-feathered bundle nearly landed at his feet. Though it seemed more a collapse than a graceful landing, it had found a resting place. He did not wish to closely examine why it mattered to him whether it had succeeded or not.

Glancing around surreptitiously, Killian stooped to gather the bird into his hand, his hooked arm wrapping around to steady and secure it against his chest. He hoped the dark attire he wore would partially conceal the fragile creature. Rescuing helpless animals contradicted the brash and dangerous pirate persona he had donned irrevocably, which had grown even more dark and forbidding of late. Yet, he simply could not leave the small, fragile bird on the planks, its strength almost spent and plaintively vulnerable.

Seeing that all was as it should be, he slipped below deck without a word, carrying the strange passenger in his arms into his cabin. Closing the door firmly behind him, Killian hurried to place the weakened creature on the table and lit a nearby lantern hanging from the ceiling to inspect its small form for injuries. It appeared fine, simply near the end of its endurance after a clearly long journey.

Just as when the bird was approaching the ship, he could not really understand why it mattered so much to him that the creature was alright. It did though, and so he obeyed his instincts and tried to tend to it as best he knew how. His new compatriot didn’t seem at all troubled by his admittedly anxious dithering and attempts at aid. The bird neither flapped nor made any attempt to flee. After a few full-body shakes to settle its plumage, the bird remained largely still, only moving with its breaths and blinking its dark brown eyes calmly at him, seemingly taking in its new surroundings. The creature exhibited an almost human awareness that it was safe, facing no threat from him.

As Killian watched, enthralled, the bird eventually seemed to settle enough that it tucked its head beneath its wing and appeared to fall asleep. Satisfied that his charge would be fine for a few hours, and needing to rest himself while his crew and ship were in order, Killian extinguished the lantern after preparing for bed. The churning anger and restlessness which had plagued him since boarding his ship was strangely lulled, and for the moment, he was too grateful to question it. Stretching out upon the Captain’s berth, he gave himself over to sleep, for once wrapped up enough in its comfort to be dreamless.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Killian rose with the sun the next morning, habit waking him early enough to see the gray pre-dawn melt into the peach and pinkish glow of a clear new day. He stretched his lanky frame, washed and dressed before moving to the table to check on his unexpected guest. As he neared the makeshift nest he had created, he was surprised to see his small stowaway still appeared to be asleep. Startled by how calm the bird continued to be in such confined surroundings, Killian merely smiled tightly, his hand unconsciously rubbing his chest. He tried not to dwell on why the peaceful sight of a bird resting on the table in one of his old rags lifted his spirits so, as if the whole cabin felt less lonely in its presence.

He had a litany of his usual tasks to attend to, and he knew the rest of his crew would soon be active - if they were not already. Killian exited the cabin swiftly, hoping nothing would disturb the creature until it was restored enough to wake on its own, once the heavy sound of his boots against the wooden planks faded away.

However, he couldn’t avoid one quick stop before heading topside. Killian was pleased to see Turley, the ship’s cook, alone in the kitchen. He ducked beneath the low door frame and cleared his throat to get the grizzled man’s attention amidst the numerous pots and pans bubbling and sizzling on the stovetop.

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Turley offered, with a gap-toothed smile. “What can I get ye?”

Killian lowered his voice, stepping closer to the aging cook as he explained that the rations he sought were not for himself, but for the seabird he had rescued the evening before. As he pondered why the bird’s fate concerned him, Killian found himself unsure why he felt compelled to hide his anxiety for the small animal. Anyone daring to question or mock him would regret it – if not immediately, soon enough. Was he questioning himself then?

He discarded the thought almost as soon as it entered his mind. Turley seemed pleased with his captain’s request, assuring him they still had some canned herring in their stores which he could fetch after the noon meal. Killian nodded approvingly and thanked Turley before turning to leave. Just as he did, Turley added, “Sounds like you found a storm petrel, Cap’n.”

“Oh, aye?” Killian asked, tilting his head with renewed interest, despite his desire not to seem overeager.

“Indeed, for how you have described it anyways, Sir. They’re quite rare in these parts, or so’s I’ve always heard. They tend to nest much further north, preferrin’ the cold.”

Killian nodded his understanding but remained silent, encouraging Turley’s talkative nature with a patient gaze. He was rewarded when Turley continued without pause.

“There’re many folks who consider ‘em an evil omen, Cap’n. Portents of storms and such like, but they’re such wee buggers, them petrels. I always wondered meself if they weren’t just allowin’ the winds to blow them to safety rather than heraldin’ the blast.”

Killian shook his head with begrudging humor. Even after nearly three years leading a crew of pirates rather than the formal naval sailors they had once been, he was continually surprised by their superstitious beliefs. They claim to be black-hearted, fearless outlaws, yet frightfully unwilling to take a woman aboard (even Milah at the beginning), sail under the red morning sun, or set out on a Friday.. All due to tall tales of downfall and destruction. It was just a bird, wind-rattled and knocked off-course, needing to regain its strength; certainly not some ill stroke of luck.

“I heartily agree with you, mate,” Killian said when Turley’s words trailed off, giving him a clap on the shoulder before leaving the galley. “I appreciate you finding the herring. I’ll be back for it once lunch has been cleared.”

Turley assented readily and turned back to his task, humming idly. The Captain seemed in a better state of mind than he’d been in since losing his hand, and witnessing his love’s death. To Turley it seemed nothing but good luck, and he was simply glad for it.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Feeding the petrel at noon was a more awkward and messier business than Killian had anticipated; first he was struggling to open the sealed tin with just one hand, then handling the pungent small fish and their juices in his attempts to coax the bird to eat. Once it snatched the first bit in its delicate, curved bill, however, no more coddling was necessary. Soon, the petrel was grasping tiny herring right from the can, swallowing chunks as fast as it could manage. It emitted a rough sort of squawk in his direction once it finished its meal. Chuckling, Killian could certainly admit it was no nightingale’s song, but he chose to see it as an enthusiastic thanks all the same.

“I’m afraid that’s all for now, you shameless beggar,” he chided gently while clearing the empty tin away and wiping the table clean. To his surprise, the bird stepped nearer, lightly pecking at his fingers, almost playfully or in gratitude, not at all sharply enough to hurt. Holding his breath, Killian turned his hand open and palm up; the petrel nuzzled against his warm skin. Improbable as it seemed, the gesture could almost be called affectionate.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” the pirate murmured, scratching one finger lightly over the bird’s dark gray cap. He chose to ignore how his voice sounded equally fond.

When he returned that evening, the shadows outside his cabin’s windows were already long, and the sun had long sunk in the west. After its performance at midday, Killian was sure the petrel would be hungry again and eagerly awaiting its dinner. Yet, upon entering his cabin with canned anchovies, hoping they would not prove too salty for his animal guest, he found the bird absent from the center table altogether. Instead, it flitted for one spot to another at the desk in the room’s far corner near the window. It fluttered, then paused to alight upon the various open books strewn over the surface, cooking its tiny head and peering down intently at the pages. Had Killian not known better, he would have thought it was actually reading the words in Liam’s beloved tomes.

By this point, Kilian was charmed by the petrel’s odd antics, his lips stretching into an ill-accustomed smile as he watched before he moved to lay out his offering. The dark cloud that had hung over him before the bird’s arrival had dissipated. Though he couldn’t explain why, Killian welcomed the lighter mood, hoping it signified better days to come.

The petrel let out its brash trill a few more times before fluttering over to feed quickly on the anchovy, as enthusiastically as it had eaten the herring. Upon finishing, however, it did not relax as it had done previously. Instead, it flitted across the room, hovering near the window and making its distinctive call. The bird then fluttered around Killian’s head and shoulders before returning to the window, its desire for freedom as clear as if it had spoken the words aloud.

“Of course, little one,” Killian sighed reluctantly, no longer embarrassed about speaking to it as if it were human. “Naturally you would wish to return to the air.”

As he opened the window pane, the bird uttered a softer note, unlike its previous raucous cries. Killian smiled ruefully as he watched it slip through the opening and fly away. He had never considered refusing to let it go free; still, he missed the petrel’s presence in his cabin almost immediately. It might have been only a lost bird, but for a flicker of time, he felt a connection, a kinship, that had been sorely lacking in his life.

Yet, to Killian’s pleased astonishment, it was far from the last he would see of the storm petrel. While he would have expected the bird to be gone, never to return again, as days and weeks at sea went by, the small bird reappeared often - usually at first light, near the wheel where Killian was often steering, taking the night’s last watch upon himself as captain to be certain all was well when the Jolly was perhaps most vulnerable. After his intriguing initial encounter with his new feathered friend, he had learned that petrels were largely nocturnal and - like pirates and sailors themselves - rarely came ashore unless nesting. Again, that strange sense of kindred closeness swept over him; more than he had known for entirely too long. He had also learned that pairs of storm petrels were largely monogamous, and he could not help but wonder if the small gray co-pilot had lost its mate, leading it to return to the ship and humans where it had been shown kindness, strange as the attachment might seem. At any rate, once “his” petrel had begun to make recurrent appearances, Killian deliberately took the shift which found him at the helm when dawn’s first light crept over the horizon.

Though wise enough not to voice any notice or question him, the more observant and early-rising members of Captain Jones’ crew began to notice the bird’s repeated arrivals at the wheel near their captain. It seemed the small creature came solely to visit Jones and to snag a brief ride perched on the ship’s side, the sea breeze rustling its feathers until it either fluttered below deck to follow Killian at the end of his watch or took to the sky again.. Killian naturally sought to avoid seeming overly fond or doting on the petrel. For the leader of a band of miscreants and outlaws who lived a rough life by their wits and the sweat of their brows, it was dangerous indeed to show any sort of weakness. Any appearance of “going soft” could be a death sentence if his crew began to doubt his capabilities because of it.

All the same, those who worked nearby sometimes saw glimpses of his twinkling eyes or more mischievous smiles from time to time - things that had seemed lost to the past before the bird’s arrival. The cabin boy Killian had taken aboard at a port several months before - to save him from a life of abuse and privation - sometimes thought he heard snatches of the Captain singing or humming shanties under his breath when the petrel was present at Killian’s side. The boy’s loyalty, however, was unassailable and absolute. He’d never dream of breathing a word.

This continued for some time, the petrel’s comings and goings becoming an expected part of the rhythm aboard the Jolly Roger. Its diminutive gray form and rapid flight over the nearby waves became an easily recognizable sight to all who sailed upon the ship. What was more, the bird’s presence was gratefully welcomed - Captain Jones was less volatile and less prone to strike out against those who displeased him.

If the petrel had not yet proven its worth to any sailors reluctant to accept it, then one stormy night it would have silenced any doubts once and for all…

They had not taken an enemy vessel in some time, and the cargo taken in their most recent haul had been offloaded at the last port nearly two days prior. It was a good thing, too, because as shadows began to lengthen in late afternoon, wind whipped up wildly, frothing the waves and rocking the ship violently. The extra weight of a full cargo might have caused them to take on a frightening amount of water as the hull rose and fell. 

At first, the men manned their posts with calm determination. A storm at sea was always serious, easily spelling the difference between life and death in how one met its ravages. They had faced many such squalls, and Jones guided them through with an indefinable but comforting mix of experience and assurance. This gale, however, seemed different, bent on their destruction as the walls of water rose and then dropped the Jolly as though it were a toy in a child’s bathtub. As they dipped, the rising swells threatened to pour over the sides and sink them permanently. The crew gripped their ropes or boards, holding tightly to whatever piece they manned, but more and more fervently sending prayers for mercy to Poseidon, Davy Jones, or the sirens that would greet them below the surface.

Amidst the rolling chaos, the rapid beating of wings swept low over their heads as a dark,  familiarly recognizable form sailed across the deck and landed heavily, talons clinging to the worn leather on Killian’s shoulder. Though it had clearly fought mightily against the drafts, their petrel was claiming its place heedless of the danger.

Hardly able to acknowledge the delicate weight where it roosted at his side, even nearer than usual, Killian quickly raised his hook from the spokes of the wheel, brushing its curve over the bird’s downy underbelly in a single stroke of greeting. The bird trilled and seemed almost to rub its head against his rough cheek in affection. The exchange lasted only a moment, and in their heightened anxiety, few, if any, bore witness. Then, Killian gripped the wheel tightly once more with hand and hook, roaring out orders and encouragement, exhorting the men not to give up the fight, though the storm raged on and endurance flagged.

The petrel, not content to merely watch and ride along, was hardly finished - nor did it perch silently idle. Instead, it took to the air again, if only just, fluttering rapidly about the captain’s head, repeating its sharp, strident call, almost in his ear, and making itself nigh impossible to ignore. At first, Killian instinctively waved his hand to ward off its advances, calling out in consternation at its unusual behavior. However, it quickly became clear the tiny bird’s determined efforts would not falter.

Brow furrowed in thought, Killian squinted in concentration at his companion, finally sensing that it was trying to tell him something. Swiping the driving rain from his vision, Killian gave in and murmured low under his breath, “Alright, little one, I understand. What is it you wish to show me?”

Again, reacting as if it understood his every word, the petrel chirruped a sort of agreement and took flight again. It had to dip and bob against the lashing wind and rain in order to stay aloft, but it flapped madly, its wings battling back against the heaves of the storm. Valiantly, it hovered within sight, just ahead of the ship’s bow and almost seemed to look back expectantly, as if asking whether or not he meant to follow its lead.

Despite the tension in his shoulders, the worry and responsibility weighing upon him as the storm attempting to break them apart and bear the pieces to the depths, Killian couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter at the bird’s assumed insistence. “Aye, we’re with you,” he uttered aloud, turning the wheel just slightly to accommodate the direction in which the petrel led, shaking his head in disbelief even as he did so. It seemed a mite crazy, true enough, and yet birds survived the wild, its brutal conditions and weather, all the time. And what other chance of survival did they have at this point if the tempest didn’t slake soon? He could not see the way before them clearly enough to navigate by any of his normal methods. At the end of the day, they were all at the whim of Mother Nature, whatever their skill or experience, so the chance or fate that had brought this small creature to him and the feeling in his gut that urged him on seemed as good a course to follow as any.

Some few further agonizing minutes followed, as they still rose and fell in the grip of rolling waves. The entire crew seemed to hold their breath as the ship bobbed and soared, up and down, over and again, eyes riveted on the dark clouds and forks of lightning ahead of them and straining to glimpse in time the jagged rocks that lurked portending their doom.

Slowly, and yet more and more certainly as they persisted, the wild rocking, the careening to and fro, lessened, as though the churning water itself had begun to loosen its massive grip. They were moving into miraculously calmer waters, Killian noted with a breath of relief. The storm still howled around them, but in a bright flash of lightning, he saw that the ship had entered the sheltered lea of a hidden cove. The tall rock faces rising on either side as the Jolly sailed into their cover lessened the buffeting of the waves and allowed the ship to maintain its ballance once again. He would not have seen the entrance with the elements obscuring vision as they’d been - not without the petrel. It had led them to safety.

As if on cue, the bird came to rest atop the wheel, perching on the curve of wood between the two spokes where his hand and hook were placed. Blinking placidly, it seemed to look at him with a bit of pride before cooing softly and burrowing hits head and beak under its wing to snatch a moment’s well-earned rest.

Nodding and allowing himself a look around to take stock, Killian saw the reassurance on his crew’s faces as all realized they had made it through. Killian called out a few orders to check various parts of the sip for any damages and make certain the ship would stay in place until the storm blew itself out. This petrel with its almost sentient ability to sense when it was needed, come to his aid, and raise his spirits, would always have a safe place to rest with them on the Jolly Roger.

~~*~~*~~

Until the day it didn’t return.

The storm petrel had taken to arriving regularly every two or three days, wherever they might be sailing or how much distance they had covered, but then one evening it failed to appear. It didn’t come that night, or the next. Soon a week had passed, and still it didn’t come back to the Jolly, worrying Killian more than he dared let on.

He could not simply drop anchor and wait, nor could he leave his post, his men, and his ship, to search for his tiny companion - far dearer than even a pet could ever be. He had no way to call the bird; it had always come to him of its own accord and in its own time… but it had never stayed away for so long.

His men noticed as well, whispering amongst themselves when the Captain began taking his evening meals alone at night rather than joining them in the galley, when the door to his cabin slammed with such heavy finality that all knew it was a barrier not to be crossed until the Captain emerged again. They shook their heads in dismay when orders were bellowed more harshly or conversations were more clipped and terse. Killian Jones was too diligent a man to shirk his duties or lead them astray, yet all felt his unease and knew its cause. Many of them were aware enough to know the petrel had saved them from the storm, just as Killian did, and had grown to enjoy its visits and watch for it in their own ways. Its absence had stretched on long enough that it seemed clear something must have happened to the poor bird - not that any would say such to the Captain.

Turley and the cabin boy were the only ones genuinely close enough to ask Killian about it, and the youngster only dared question hesitantly one night as he brought the Captain his dinner tray if he had seen his gray bird lately. The dulled acceptance in his expected denial bowed the boy’s head and forestalled any further inquiry.

But that night, as young Billy left, Killian heard a light rapping sound at the small window above his bunk. Even knowing better, his heart leapt with a small flicker of hope. It was the portal by which his petrel had entered and left his cabin so many times. Scuffling and scratching followed, so weak and soft as to have gone unheard if he hadn’t been sitting alone and quiet at his desk. Hustling to the window, Killian unlatched it and carefully opened the glass pane.

To his astonishment and joy, quickly followed by rapid alarm, the storm petrel toppled from its weary perch on the windowsill and landed on the ledge just inside the room. Its tiny frail quivered, its little feathered breast rising and falling rapidly. It wasn’t a large bird to begin with; Turley’s familiar voice echoed in Killian’s head at the thought, needlessly rambling about petrels being some of the widest ranging seabirds known to man, despite being naught bigger than swallows. ‘Hardy little critters, they are,’ Killian could still hear the cook yammering internally until he finally shook his head clear. What he needed to do now was ascertain what the bird needed and what he could do to help.

Having been small already, the petrel looked terribly frail on the dusty, cushioned ledge amidst heavy tomes, navigation tools, and the other detritus of several years. It was obvious the poor creature had not been eating and was wasting away half-starved as a result. Along with that, it was soaked, its feathers in bedraggled disarray and missing in places. The bird lay still for so long without uttering any sound or even trying to right itself of explore the space that Killian feared for a horrible moment that it must be near death.

Peering closer with careful, gentle movements, he saw that the petrel was injured as well as weakened. Not immediately apparent because of how ruffled in was in general, Killian noted that its wing was bent at an awkward angle along its side rather than folded up properly in repose.

The bird hardly lifted its head as Killian stroked one finger down its back, hoping to soothe and offer even the tiniest bit of comfort. Striding urgently across the room, he swung the cabin door open, calling urgently down the hall for Whale, the ship’s doctor, to come on the double; he was needed in the Captain’s quarters.

Whirling to re-enter the room, Killian’s eyes quickly passed over the space, noting the crust of his bread left from supper and the seeds which had been baked atop it still littering the plate. He brought it quickly to his patient, then poured some water for the pitched by his washstand into the empty saucer which had held soup, hoping he might coax the petrel to eat even a morsel and gain some nourishment.

Next, he grasped a plush cotton dressing gown, hanging untouched on the door of his closest, purposefully out of easy sight. It had been Milah’s favorite to wrap up in after the rare luxury of a bath, and the sight of it or the feel of its material beneath his fingers had wrung his heart until now, bringing the hot, raging need for vengeance back to the fore. He was suddenly glad he had not parted with it though. He didn’t dare jostle the injured bird overmuch for fear of hurting it further. But while he couldn’t rub it down to dry it fully, he could tuck the robe’s downy layers around it and warm its shivering frame.

“There now, little one,” he crooned gently. “Take a bit of food and catch your breath. You’re safe now…” his voice caught and he swallowed before adding, “We’ll put you back to rights, don’t fret.”

Killian didn’t actually know if a ship’s surgeon could set a bird’s wing as he would a human man’s broken arm, but he could hear Whale’s footsteps pounding down the hall toward his cabin, and knew he would find out soon. Before Whale - or anyone else - could arrive to see him, Killian bent to carefully lean over the bird’s small form, not sure what possessed him, but following the instinct before he could question it. As delicately as possible for someone who’d had no cause for gentility in longer than he could remember, for just one breath, one single heartbeat, he brought his lips to the bird’s tiny head. Maybe it was brought on by some long-buried memory of his own mother, lost to his mind’s eye other than a voice whose soothing singing sometimes echoed in his sleep, but the kiss seemed an offering to ease fever pain and fear with hope and good wishes.

It was the barest brush contact - a mere moment’s touch - but the air in the room abruptly changed. Something seemed to shrink and then expand; the atmosphere held its breath. Glittering rainbow hues flashed in front of his eyes, and Killian jerked backwards in alarm. The petrel’s shape went a bit hazy as Killian strained to understand what was happening right before his eyes, and then his small friend began to grow and change, forcing him to take a few more stunned steps backward and wonder if he had somehow hit his head and addled his brain. His accustomed companion was transforming even as he watched.

He heard a shout as Whale - and probably a few curious others too - came to a halt behind him. Exclamations of awe and surprise were heard but left unacknowledged over his shoulder. Killian blinked, trying be sure he could trust his vision and to reconcile what shouldn’t be possible, but sat before him.

Where the storm petrel had lay near death just seconds ago, stood a blushing, beautiful young woman. She was equally soaked to the skin, long blonde hair plastered to her head and shoulders. Her lithe, slender frame trembled where she stood clutching the dressing gown around her tightly. Still, there was something about her eyes as she stared back at him silently; something that he knew deep within despite never having seen her before.

She cocked her head curiously, as if she too was trying to understand where she was and what had happened. With that motion, Killian knew without a shadow of a doubt. This young woman had been his petrel; his long lost avian friend was this lovely woman. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he was absolutely certain. And he was drawn to her just as he had been to her former guise. She took a cautious step toward him, and he held out a hand to draw her near and hold her close. Whatever had brought them together, whatever magic was at work, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.

~~*~~*~~

By the time rays of morning sunlight came slanting down the walls inside Killian’s cabin, he and his soulmate - he knew that now - had talked the whole night through. She was no longer a storm petrel but a princess what had been cursed to take on avian form, and his act of True Love - aware of it or not - had set her free. The jealous witch who’d cast the spell had falsely believed the princess was luring her chosen partner away rather than accept that he had a roving eye. Petrels were a migratory species, keeping her far from all she knew and loved - and of course, unable to speak or gain help for her affliction. For hours they sat side-by-side on his bunk, hands clasped tightly as this woman - Emma, her name was Emma - told him what she’d experience ever since the curse took hold, shifting her very reality to something unfathomable. Tears pooled in her eyes, glistening on her lashes, both while recounting her own trials, and then again while listening to the betrayal and loss that had shaken Killian’s world to its foundations as well.

The connection between them from Emma’s first appearance on his ship drew them ever closer as they talked, and touched, and inevitably joined in another kiss. This time it was two souls meeting on equal footing, and they drank deeply of the perfection that shook them each to the core. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way; the two of them bound to meet long before they ever knew. Neither could explain the pull, but it also couldn’t be denied.

As they went topside the next morning and Killian began to introduce her to an eagerly enthusiastic crew, he didn’t even try to explain, but simply savored the moment, thrilled that all the heartache and pain had finally brought him there, with Emma at his side. Her smaller frame tucked seamlessly into his side as she beamed at his new ally and charmed them one and all.

When they stood at the wheel - just the two of them again at last - Killian behind her, his arms encircling her as he steered the ship, he felt the same joy he had when she’d kept him company perched on the wheel so many times before, but magnified exponentially now that they could fully communicate and understand one another. With the salt air in their faces and the horizon in view, they set sail - a happy new beginning stretching out ahead of them.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @scientificapricot @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @lenfaz @jonesfandomfanatic

@eastwesthomeisbest @grimmswan @stahlop @belovedcreation @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @caught-in-the-filter @resident-of-storybrooke

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @goforlaunchcee @mie779 @kday426 @iamstartraveller776

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: try/cry/why? (just a dream)

the story: try/cry/why? (just a dream) is a Captain Swan 2b divergence written for the 2022 Writers Month Challenge and finished in December 2022.

the art: cover art comissioned from the incredible @svenjaliv, giclee print on canvas, sealed with a gloss finish fixatif. lettering done by me using font dubbletrubble. intersitial art from istock.

materials: linceco bookcloth for sewn boards binding. printed on the bookbinder's special from church paper. endpapers from madeline's paste paper (etsy). spine emrboidered using a rosebud stitch, wrapped with a portugese stitch, in variegated DMC embroidery floss.

since the story was a series of prompts i wanted to stay true to that feeling of running, inescapable thoughts and i kept it all as a one-shot, punctuated by the single-word prompts and accompanying art.

promise | chance | gold | melody / heart | castle | popular |  heat / echo / kiss | swim | leak | knot | wild | comfort | shadows | ice | bridge | bubble | jealous | pain | horror |  dream  | bow |  lips | scream | silk | sugar | loud | bond | rainbow (part one) | rainbow (part two)

find the complete story on AO3.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.)  It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things.  The 4th of July is coming up.  Let’s do it up right.  Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma.  “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying.  “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in.  Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions.  Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything.  Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting.  Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher. 

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated.  “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”.  There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest.  Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions.  It only led to confusion and headaches.  Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings.  Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks.  After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July.  Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately.  With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?”  Killian asked as he sat beside her.  “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement.  It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display.  “Are you serious?”  Henry asked.  “You’ve never seen fireworks?  Fireworks have been around for like…ever.  I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest.  I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged.  “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them.  And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured.  “They’re colorful and sparkly.  Sometimes they have special designs.  Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound.  And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked.  “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug.  “I don’t know how it works.  I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said.  “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did.  Emma should have known.  It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd.  A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I’m sure everything is totally safe.  Leroy’s got everything organized.  Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky.  Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him.  Now was one of those times.  She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern.  As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said.  “It’s perfect.  All of this is perfect.  I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display.  Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music.  It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner.  “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding?  The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before.  What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States.  That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile?  Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven.  “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said.  “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce).  Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812.  Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned.  “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library.  I already have to suffer through history lessons in school.  Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again).  The moment was just about here.  As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show.  She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was.  They hadn’t talked much about it.  This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened.  What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath.  “Something’s actually pretty great.  At least I hope you think it is.  I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly.  “A father?  I’m to be a father?  You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along.  Are you…are you happy about it?�� I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly.  When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes.  “How can you even ask that, Swan?  Of bloody course I’m happy.  A baby!  A product of our love!  I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

[princess-and-the-swan]

Hi, I'm looking for a Storybrooke AU fic. I remember that Zeleana cursed everyone to not have their happy endings. Somehow Killian and Henry escaped the curse and Killian can communicate with Emma through their dreams. Emma is married to Walsh who has her heart. Snow and Charming are married but hate each other. Regina is maid.

I remember reading this one a while back! I think this might be what you're looking for:

MC Fic Rec: Their Way By Moonlight

By @wistfulcynic | Rating: M

A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and rescue the town from a new and dangerous foe.

Read it on AO3

[exhaustedpirate]

i'm your dead girl walking

if you recognise the title, welcome to my heathers the musical brainrot! the song definitely influenced this absolute smut fest of a fic but there is a very fluffy ending! one day i'll learn to just give you smut but today is not that day! i give my heart to @belovedcreation for her amazing support and beta services for this fic, you're the best, babe!!

rated E | 8127 words also on AO3

summary: Regina manages to delay Peter Pan's curse for a few hours during which she spends time with Henry. Emma, having spent quality time with her family, decides to spend time with another equally special person. With only 6 hours until she is separated from Killian what else better to do than get "freaky"?!

Storybrooke’s Main Street was empty. All lights were turned off and the only source of light was the full moon. It was both eerie and peaceful, knowing what was to come.

Pan was defeated. Rumplestilskin was dead. There was a curse coming.

Emma sighed in the quiet night. Maybe she should be used to it, this impending doom every year, but really, who could? 

According to Regina, the curse would hit at dawn. She was glad for the extra time Regina gave them, time to say goodbye, time to just be together. After that, Henry and Emma were off to an adventure of their own and they would be separated from their family.

Right, there was no getting used to that. 

But now, with her parents asleep, Henry at Regina’s and everyone else making use of their last hours in the modern world, Emma felt restless. They had had a nice dinner at Granny’s, drank, and talked. There had been no tears, no frowns, no goodbyes. 

But he had been there, sitting in the furthest corner of the counter. He had shared a drink with David, smiled at something Granny told him. Had spoken to Neal, hugged him. Had looked at her, watched her and turned away when she looked back. And yet, no word to her.

Well, if that’s how he was going to play it then- Emma sighed again, interrupting her own thoughts. They had 6 hours before their whole lives would be disrupted, before they were all separated once more. 

Fuck it.

It was easy to reroute her wandering path. Before she knew it, Emma had stopped in front of Granny’s inn, her foot hovering over the first step. There was a faint light coming from the door, just like it had been two years ago when she first arrived in town. Walking through that door would be like proclaiming to the whole town what she intended to do and that was a mood killer.

Taking a step back, she saw one more light on. It was just as faint but it was on the second level and she could feel it, deep in her gut, that that was the window she was looking for. Emma took a deep breath as she looked up at it. Was she really about to do what she thought she was about to do?

Was she drunk enough for this? She could still feel that last drop of liquid courage in her stomach but really all that walking had sobered her up. Hopefully it was enough to give her that push. And really, it was a wonder she didn’t fall to her death as she climbed the trellis on the back wall, her only goal that faint light in the window. If she was thinking of anything but her destination, she would have laughed at how she wasn’t climbing with him but to him this time.

The window was locked because of course it was but she could see him lying in the bed with his back on the headboard, a beat-up book open with one hand, his hooked arm over his thigh. Hook was the picture of relaxation, his billowing black shirt unbuttoned, black leather trousers and bare feet on the bed. He really was making use of Granny’s offer of modernity on their last night in town.

It was now or never. Later she should have a chat with Granny about how easy it was to snap the window lock but it boded well for her tonight. Before she took a breath, Emma was stumbling into the room with an incredible lack of grace. 

“Swan.” As she fumbled to stand up, she watched Hook put down his book unhurriedly. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Shh.” She brought a finger up to her lips as she fumbled to remove her boots. “There’s only a few hours until everything goes to shit.” She took a mental picture of the amused and confused smirk twitching his lips as she approached the bed. “Now is the perfect time for you to give me that ‘fun’ you promised.” His eyebrow hitched before the other joined in shock when she straddled his lap. “Or was that all talk?” His book was thrown to the floor in a flash, his eyes never leaving hers.

“No,” Hook answered quickly. “I just didn’t think-”

“It’s like I said,” Emma interrupted. “We understand each other. This world is really unfair so I say we make it beautiful here.” Leaning over him, she placed her hands on his shoulders.

She saw lust, desire, confusion, sadness, affection in his eyes and that should have made her run out of that room. But how could she when this was what she wanted most? His hand found her hip and she deserved an award for keeping it together at the touch of his strong, warm hand. “What do you say?” She urged.

“That works for m-” 

Not wanting to waste any more time, she pressed her mouth against his just like she did in Neverland. And just like in that jungle, it only took a second for Hook to reciprocate the kiss, his mouth opening under her ministrations and giving just as good as she gave. His hand left her hip to thread into her hair while hers gripped his shoulders tighter, before she moved them down his shirt. 

She had never seen him so undressed before, not even in the sweltering heat of Neverland. Her fingers found the open parting of his shirt and felt the surprisingly soft chest hair underneath. His responding moan to her touch had her hand clench in his chest, a wave of arousal wafting over her. His lips left hers and for a split second she was going to complain before she felt his lips on her jaw, on her neck, by her ear. Her mouth opened in silent pleasure as she felt his hand on the small of her back pressing her closer to him. Her hands were trapped between their chests but she wasn’t complaining.

His lips found her ear and she gasped at the feel of his teeth nibbling her earlobe before his tongue soothed the sensitive skin. A moan escaped her lips as her nails dug into his chest, his skin warm under her touch and making him gasp against her skin. Pulling away enough to free her hands but not so much as to stop his ministrations, she slipped her hands inside his shirt and began to slide it down his arms. 

His hand left her back to completely remove his shirt and throw it god knows where. Without the distraction of his lips or her anxiety at starting this tryst, she took her time to look at his chest, her hands absent-mindedly following the path of her eyes. She took in his strong build, the muscles originated from hard work while at sea, his dark chest hair and the way it led down to a treasure she was excited to plunder tonight. 

“Looked your fill?” Her eyes wandered up slowly to where he was watching her with interest, his lips red and full from the kisses they shared, his cheeks pink. 

“Nope,” she answered, watching as his eyes widened in surprise before crossing her arms in front of her and pulling up her sweater and undershirt in one go. Boy, was she glad to have left her coat at home. She threw it behind her without looking, focused instead on the way his eyes took the same path her eyes had. His gaze felt like a touch and her skin broke into goosebumps at the thought. “Have you?”

He shook his head slowly as his hand ghosted its way up her back. She arched at the soft touch and she could swear his eyes darkened at the sight of her chest so close to his face. Before she could straighten her posture, she felt him pull her to him and then his mouth was on her collarbones, on her shoulders, on her chest, on the curve of her breast, pressing open mouth kisses on her bare skin. She fumbled behind her to unlatch her bra, removing it without disturbing his excellent work. She keened loudly when his lips latched onto her nipple, tongue lashing relentlessly and causing her to grind slowly against his lap.

She felt his responding groan against her flesh and his impressive erection between her legs. Her whole body lit up like the freaking fourth of July, her hands grabbed onto his head to keep him where she wanted him, to keep his talented mouth on her breasts. She had heard rumors of women orgasming just from this and thought them liars but this man was making her believe.

His hand, redundant in keeping her close to him, moved down her bare back until it reached the waist of her jeans. She wondered if he even knew what jeans were, if she should say something, if she should help him. All thoughts vanished from her head when he pressed his thumb hard against the ridge of her jeans, right on top of her aching clit. Was there like a clit magnet in that man’s finger? Her loud moan silenced any other noise.

With his left arm around her waist, his mouth on her other nipple and his thumb causing friction against her clit, she was almost sure that she was about to come like this. But there was something missing, and it wasn’t the way his teeth nibbled her flesh.

Her hands left his head and without the pull, he unlatched his mouth from her breast, looking up at her with dazed eyes and heavy breath. God, she wanted to commit that face to memory, engrave it in her brain. On instinct, she fused their mouths together, her nibbling on his lower lip just as he had done on her breast. He whimpered under her attention and, regrettably, his hand stopped moving. But that was probably for the best because it gave her the clarity of mind to reach for the button and zipper of her jeans.

“Emma…”

The way he moaned her name against her lips drew a shiver up her spine, her skin trembling in anticipation. With a last kiss to his swollen lips, she pulled away from his lap, sitting perpendicular to him on the right side of the bed. Glancing at his face, she saw the worry on his brow and the fear mixed with the lust in his eyes. But she couldn’t look at him any longer if she wanted to get out of these jeans. After a short struggle, she managed to peel the denim off her as well as her socks. Maybe she should be more concerned over where her clothes were going to end up but really, looking up to see the dark gaze of a plundering pirate just made everything else disappear.

Gone was the worry and fear, there was only desire in his eyes. Her mouth was parted as she breathed heavily and she leaned back on her hands, leaving her chest prominently out and vulnerable to his intense gaze. His hand landed on her ankle where it had landed on his lap, his thumb rubbing on her skin and causing goosebumps to rise up. Seemingly fascinated with her response, he moved his hand up her leg slowly before stopping on her thigh. His thumb reached the inside of her thigh and began to massage it carefully. An unexpected moan left her lips and she opened her legs wanting more of his touch and wanting it where she craved it most.

Swift as a cat, she blinked to find him on his knees between her legs, his eyes never leaving her underwear-clad center. His hand continued its upward motion on her leg, stopping at the apex of her thigh. His gaze met hers and his thumb met her clit, rubbing it in a slow circular motion. She moaned, throwing back her head. His thumb pressed firmly and she found her moans silenced by his desperate lips. 

“You’re so wet, Emma,” he whispered against her lips, his thumb circling softly while his fingers quested to her center. Her hips stuttered under his touch. “Can I taste you?”

His desperate question had her letting out a quiet moan before nodding her head. Her head was full of fantasies of what his touch and kisses merely hinted at. He hooked his finger and metal substitute on her underwear, the cold of the appendage causing her skin to tremble. She raised her hips to allow him to remove them and he surprised her by placing a kiss above her clit, a small hint of what was to come, his breathy chuckle making her shiver as it hit her skin.

She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop watching the way he kept his eyes on her center, on his focused frown, on his adoring lips. Damn, why hadn’t she done this before?

She watched as he laid down between her legs, as he raised her hips to place his arms underneath her ass, as his eyes darkened when her folds opened under his gaze. She watched as he lowered his head and yet still let out a gasping moan when he dragged his tongue from her center to her clit, wrapping his lips around it just as he had done with her nipples.

“You make the most delicious sounds, love,” he murmured and she felt the vibrations against her center making her thighs tremble. 

“Please.” She begged quietly, unused to the feeling but knowing that there was nothing else she wanted to do. She begged for his touch, for his mouth, for him. “Please, Killian.”

She felt his eyes on her before, with a loud moan, his tongue returned to her aching center, flicking over her clit and taking her breath away, her hands grasping for his head, tangling in his hair. His hand grabbed onto her ass cheek, bringing her as closer to him as he could, kissing her below as he had up top. And what a talented mouth that man has.

“Say it again,” he asked desperately against her before his tongue flattened against her clit and wiggled.

She wasn’t even sure what he wanted or had enough breath to ask but when she cried out, “Fuck, Killian,” it must have been the right answer. Suddenly, he raised to his knees, bringing her hips up with him, keeping her against his mouth. Her legs fell over each of his shoulders and his arms wrapped around her waist. Fumbling to grab onto the sheets, onto something, she settled in for a loud ride. His mouth was relentless against her cunt, licking against her clit, penetrating her with his tongue. Her moans were ringing in her ears but all she cared about was how she could keep his mouth against her forever. When his lips wrapped around her clit once more and sucked, everything shattered around her, back arching as she called out his name in her climax.

Her breathing was heavy, her legs turned to jelly and she didn’t even know how she was going to move after that. His hand and hook gently lowered her to the bed and she brought her hands to her hair, trying to get a hold of her breathing. Damn.

“Alright, Swan?”

His voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes to watch him looking down at her, his eyes burning with desire, beard glistening, chest heaving and hand shifting his cock over his tight trousers. That vision caused a fresh wave of arousal to pool at her center. 

Fuck. 

She must have said it out loud because his hand tightened and his lips parted in a quiet gasp. Drunk on the way he was watching her, Emma lowered her hands down her chest, passing across her nipples. The short contact had her biting her lip as it sent a spark down her body. His eyes followed her hands as she slowly ran them down her belly to stop at the top of her thighs. His tongue passed through his lower lip and he closed his eyes in a hum. 

The realization that he had likely tasted her in his lips had her circling her clit with her right pointer finger. He opened his eyes and she bit out a gasp at the way his pupils dilated at the sight of her pleasuring herself in front of him. Without taking his eyes off her circling finger, he unlaced his barely laced trousers, his cock springing out thick and hard. He took hold of it, his fist tightening around his base, and her mouth went dry. 

Two of her fingers slid easily inside her and she delighted in the way his head tilted and his teeth dug into his lower lip. She brought them out to circle her clit and back inside a few times, with the same rhythm he ran his hand up and down on his cock. Satisfied with how much of her fluids she managed to accumulate on her fingers, she sat up under his watchful eyes. 

Carefully bringing her fingers to his face, she smirked with the way he dutifully opened his mouth to welcome them. Her mouth parted as she breathed in sharply at the way he sucked and ran his tongue between them, cleaning all evidence of her arousal off of her fingers. Seemingly satisfied with his work, he released his hold on them but not before nibbling on her digits. 

Biting her lip, she manhandled him until he was sitting back against the headboard. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in confusion but, as she began to pull on his trousers, he bit his lip in excitement and lifted his hips to help her.

“Damn trousers,” she muttered in impatience under his amused grin.

“Never heard you complaining before.” 

She rolled her eyes and his whole face lit up in mirth. Wanting to stop his amusement and proud that she had finally removed the leather, she ran her tongue across the length of him. His teasing stopped as he let out a guttural moan, his hand clenching into a fist where it rested on his lap. She grinned victorious as she took hold of his shaft to bring his tip into her eager mouth and sucked.

“Fuck.” 

She preened under his unveiled pleasure, moving her hair over her shoulder, licked into his slit and moaned at the way his hand dug into the back of her neck. She took him further into her mouth and felt his hand clench in response. Taking hold of his wrist to urge him to take that control he so wanted, she relaxed her jaw and slowly lowered her head. He gasped and she felt him pull on her hair, inching her closer and closer to the base of his cock and she groaned in pleasure around him. She could feel herself getting wetter as she took more and more of him until her nose ghosted over his hip bone.

She felt him quickly pull her away from him and her bottom lip jutted out in an instinctive pout. She wanted more, needed more. He grinned over his heavy breathing and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She licked its tip and his grin widened. 

“I’m afraid I would spend myself in your lovely mouth if you kept going.”

She rubbed her thighs together at the image he made appear in her head and she pinpointed the moment he noticed by the glint in his eyes. Maybe next time. 

But there wouldn’t be a next time, would it? 

She could feel her spiraling thoughts get out of control and before they could ruin this next, her last night, she straddled his hips, a knee on either side of him. Before he could take his next breath, she slanted her mouth over his, letting the feel of his mouth and her lingering taste in his tongue overwrite any thoughts that weren’t about him and his talented mouth.

Her hips ground against his length, slathering it with her arousal, and his hand left her head to take hold of her ass, fingers tightening against her flesh and urging her to keep moving her hips over him. She moved her lips over his scruffy jaw, his mouth free to encourage her with his heavy breathing and quiet moans, until she carefully bit into his earlobe.

“Killian,” she whispered, receiving a louder moan in return, her hand running down his chest until she felt his tip on her fingers. “I need it hard.” 

As she bit more firmly in the flesh behind his ear, she raised her hips and lowered herself onto him. He entered her fully, taking away her breath and making her arch her back in one swift move. His moan was echoed in hers as she felt his left arm wrap around her waist to keep her close.

She tried to control her breathing, her body adjusting to his length, to the wonderful feeling of being connected to him. She joined their foreheads with a satisfied sigh and moved her hips in a tentative thrust. The feel of him inside her had them moaning in unison and she wanted nothing more than to hear that sound over and over again. Grasping onto his shoulders, she raised her hips until only his tip rested inside her.

“Tonight, I’m yours,” he whispered against her lips, his hand returning to the side of her neck, his left arm still heavy around her waist.

Tonight, she was his. 

She slammed her hips down on his and didn’t wait before she raised them again. Her movements were helped by his returning grip to her hip, urging to move as fast as she wanted, to take as much as she needed. He gave her control and she took it, moving up and down in his lap, taking her pleasure. She buried her face against his neck, her moans silenced against his skin, thighs trembling as she felt her orgasm build up. 

His thumb against her clit had her tumbling down into her climax, her back arching and head thrown back in a loud moan of his name. With a growl, she found herself on her back, his still hard length deep inside her and his mouth on her neck bringing her back to the present. 

She dug her fingers through his hair, keeping him against her skin, his almost imperceptible thrusts along with his hardworking lips preparing her for another round. Never had it been like this. She pulled his head up to look at her, wanting to look into his eyes, wanting to see his face when he came. She ran her thumb over his swollen bottom lip like he had done before and felt the rush of affection mirrored in his eyes overtake her.

“Make me forget,” She pleaded, her eyes reflecting the anxiety and panic she wanted to push away. All she wanted was to forget that soon, she would have to leave this town behind. She would have to forget her family; she would have to watch the only people who had ever wanted her disappear.

His hand trailed from her shoulder down and up to her wrist. He moved one of her hands away from his neck so he could kiss her palm, a kiss she felt all over her eager body, before he placed her arm more firmly around his neck. Knowing what he wanted from her, she moved her own arm, holding her own hand behind his neck. His lips ticked up in a small smile and he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist.

She let out a gasp when he shifted his hips adjusting his position. He smirked before he planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “As you wish, Emma.” The sound of her name washed over her and lit up the smoldering fire inside her.

Her moan was loud and deep at the way he began to thrust against her, a slow, deep grind made to fan the fire into a hot blaze. His chest rubbed against her nipples and her breath quickened. She could feel the hum inside her telling her that this orgasm would be just as good as the others, even if he just kept that touch, that speed.

To her displeasure, he stilled his hips and moved his chest away. Her nails dug into his back, desperate to keep him there, desperate for the release. She whined, opening her eyes to complain but fell silent when she saw his wrecked expression, his mirrored desperation.

Waiting, feeling the buzz of expectation under her skin, she watched as he took a deep steadying breath. She watched as he kneeled on the bed, his thighs glued to hers. Her hands fell to the bed as he straightened up, fisting the sheets at the look of hunger in his eyes. He ran the side of his hook down her thigh, the sensation making her bite her lip and moan when the tip rubbed carefully over her nipple. So lost in pleasure, she barely noticed when he maneuvered her legs until they were straightened against his chest. His hook left her breast so he could lift her hips up off the bed and slide a pillow under her ass, aligning them perfectly. 

Without warning, he reared his hips before slamming against her causing her to scream out. “Oh, fuck!” His lips pulled into a dirty grin, she could feel every inch of him inside her and, unable to gain any traction, all she could do was hang on for the delightful ride.

With unrivaled gusto, he slammed his hips again and again, the sounds of slapping skin, of his heavy breathing, of her loud moans, filling the room. The world around them vanished, all that existed was him and her, his touch, his moans and groans, her whimpers and shouts, his skin, her skin, them. 

The speed at which her orgasm hit her should have surprised her but he felt so good and filled her up so well that she was more surprised that it had taken that long. She clenched around him and his hips stuttered before he threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining with his restraint.

“Come, Killian,” she begged, needing to feel him, needing to see him. “Come for me.”

As if he had only been waiting for her order, his deep groan preceded the twitching of his cock inside her as he spilled his release. The feel of him filling her drew out her orgasm, making her feel so full, so right, so complete. His grip on her legs loosened as he came down from his high and, no longer restrained, she let them drop to the bed on either side of him. Grabbing his wrists, she eased him down on top of her until his warm body covered every inch of her, his head nestled on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair as they took control of their breathing, as she felt him soften inside her, as their bodies cooled down, unrushed.

Her fingers drifted onto his back, running up and down the light welts of scars she could feel, the marks of his long life, of his difficult life. She felt him placing chaste kisses on her skin as his breathing returned to normal. He touched on her own scars with those gifted lips, touched on the scars of her loneliness, her abandonment, and created another, a deep cut down her chest, and cauterizing it with the warmth of his breath. Her sigh was deep and satisfied as she cupped his head. His teeth nibbled on her stomach and she let out a breathy chuckle that he returned.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of sleeping tonight,” she warned, his mouth on her keeping the fire inside her alive. “It’s not morning yet.”

He hummed a denial, the vibration against her nipple making her bite her lip. “With you in my bed? Not bloody likely.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he sucked a mark on her breast, her nails digging into his shoulders. His hum of pleasure guided her into dragging her nails down his back, likely leaving red marks in her way. Still inside her, she felt his cock twitch. Interesting.

Taking hold of his hair and pulling his face to hers, she took a mental note of their mutual enjoyment of hair pulling and landed a smacking kiss on his lips. She pulled away to find him grinning at her, his eyes soft under the blaze of renewed desire. She clenched around him, drawing a hiss out of him and a grin from her.

“I need to go to the bathroom but-” She gestured with her head before pushing against his chest and against her will, causing him to slip out of her. He moved away slowly, reluctantly until they were both sitting on the bed. She pulled him to her for a dirty kiss, swallowing his moan with her lips. “Get yourself ready for me, won’t you?” Her innocent question was accompanied by a not-so-innocent drag on her nails over his hip bone, his responding moan feeding her growing arousal.

He nodded dazedly, watching her under hooded eyes as she slipped out of bed. She turned around to step to the bathroom, stopping when she felt the swat of his hand on her ass. She looked over her shoulder to see him settling down on the bed with a poor imitation of an innocent smile. She rolled her eyes to mask her smile before carrying on her way.

When she exited the bathroom, she found him still splayed on the bed watching for her return, his hand moving slowly up and down his half-hard shaft. Leaning against the doorway, she saw his cock twitch under her interested gaze, her hand moving up her body. Under his wicked grin, she sauntered to the bed, settling into his inviting lap, kissing the smile off his face. 

The next hours passed much like the previous, his talented mouth and cock dragging several orgasms out of her, his body full of marks from her own mouth, her nails and palms. His hook had created its own set of marks on her body, marks that drew a symphony of moans from her before it ended up digging into the mattress, cutting into like a hot knife through butter. They didn’t talk, nothing except moans, praises and demands escaping out of their lips. 

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won't think of you,” he’d whispered against her temple as she came down from another earth-shattering orgasm and she wanted nothing more than to return the sentiment, to assure him that she would think of this night, of him, everyday. 

But she couldn’t, so she kissed his chest instead, moving her lips higher and higher until she found his lips, leading them to another round, to another orgasm, to another memory. And at dawn, she kissed his parted lips and slipped unnoticed from his slumbering body. 

She met her family at the townline, almost thankful for the sadness of the moment as it stopped any questions they might have for her whereabouts that night, or why she winced with every step she took and how it masked her anger at having to say goodbye to something she was already missing. And she missed him. Missed them. Missed her family. Missed Storybrooke.

But still, she drove away from the town she had called home with her son beside her and sent a silent goodbye to the man she wished to remember, the man she had left asleep in his room. She said goodbye to Killian Jones and to the future he could have given her. She was almost thankful that she was losing her memories.

---

When he appears at her door, a bright happy smile on his face and her name spilling from his lips, she is surprised to find him in front of her. For so long, he was the main character in her dreams, in her fantasies, the first and only person she would think about at night, the man whose mere idea was enough to have her refuse that furniture seller’s invitation. And feeling his lips against hers sparks something inside her, a feeling of right, of balance, of peace. 

But she pushes him away, she brings her knee up to his crotch and she closes the door on his face. It’s impossible and she refuses it, ignoring the way her heart is still pounding on her chest.

But he’s persistent. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t give up. He says his name is Killian and she can almost feel the way her mouth would wrap around it in the throes of passion. His name is Killian and he tells her impossible things. He begs her to trust him and damn her, she does. She takes the vial from his hand and downs the liquid in one go. The memories assault her all at once - her parents, her son, Storybrooke, him.

“Killian?”

His eyes soften with his smile. “Did you miss me?”

She hears the teasing tone in his voice but she also sees the way his eyes plead with her, burn into her, and she does, she misses him so much that it’s almost like a physical tether pulling her to him. She takes hold of his face, vial forgotten on the floor, and pulls his lips to hers, hoping her desperate kiss answers his question. His arms wrapping tightly around her waist tells her it does.

“Emma-”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” she interrupts, her forehead touching his, her eyes clenched shut. “I wasn’t going to be able to leave if you were awake, and I-”

He silences her with a kiss, this one a mere press of his lips and she feels his smile against her mouth. “I know, love.” His hand cups her face, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I missed you too.”

She pulls him for a deep kiss, her tongue finding its way into his mouth, their moans lost against their lips, her fingers buried in his hair. She can still feel the way he touched, the way he held her, the way he marked her, the way he filled her. There is a burning inside her and she yearns for him just as she did that night a year ago.

“Wanna come to my apartment?” she murmurs against his lips, grinning at the way his hand tightens on her hip. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere, love.” And she believes him.

The walk back to her apartment isn’t long and she has done that path many times over the past year but now, hand in hand with the man she wants nothing more than to see naked again, it feels like an eternity. As they reach her door, she sends a silent thanks to Henry’s sleepover plans before opening it. She pulls Killian inside by the lapel of his coat, his back slamming against the door and closing it in a quick movement. His pleased grin tells her he likes it when she takes control but she is much more interested in what his mouth can do when it’s kissing her.

She has eliminated any space between them, letting her feel his moan reverberate against her chest. Her hands have found their way inside his coat and she is grasping and pulling at his shirt and waistcoat needing him naked. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” She complains before she slips his large coat from his shoulders.

“So are you.” His hand grasps at her jean-clad rear while his hook digs into her sweater. She hums in agreement and grins at his displeased moan when she pulls away from him.

“I need space to take off my clothes, don’t you think?” With a pointed gaze, she drops her coat and pulls off her sweater. 

“I’m incapable of thought around you, love.” He speaks towards her breasts and she would roll her eyes if she didn’t feel the goosebumps his intense gaze caused. Wanting to expedite the removal of their clothes, she began to walk backwards into her room and away from his grasp. 

Almost like he is reading her mind, he unbuttons his vest one-handed, the sight reminding her of his masterful fingers and the way he played her. He unbuttons his shirt only enough to pull it off by the collar. Her hands fall to the button of her jeans just as his find his laces. She kicks off her boots and throws them somewhere in the room, his bigger ones receiving the same treatment. They stand in the middle of her bedroom when she finally removes her jeans. His trousers fall to the floor and she is reminded of how the Enchanted Forest probably doesn’t have boxers when his cock is free to be admired by her lustful gaze.

“Swan.” His hoarse voice makes her drift her gaze up to his eyes and she is reminded of their fire, of their lust, now and then. “You’re looking at me like you want to devour me.” There’s no complaint, it’s almost like a wish he doesn’t want to admit to but she does.

Slowly, she steps up to him, his cock so close to her. Her eyes remain on his and the way they darken at her proximity. With a smirk, she grasps his length in her fist and nibbles at his parted lower lip. “That’s because I do.” 

Swiftly and silently thanking her carpeted floor, she sinks down to her knees, wasting no time in dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, the memory and the feeling of how he feels inside her mouth causing her to moan against him. His hand wastes no time in grasping onto her hair and she rewards him by welcoming him inside her mouth.

His moan echoes in her room and she closes her eyes in pleasure, in happiness. Her mouth works around him slowly but determinedly, his loud response spurring her on. Her hand slips between her legs to find her already wet center and circles her clit with her finger. His hand flexes on her hair and she drags her teeth over his underside dragging a loud curse from him. Tongue lapping over his slit, she looks up to find his eyes on her, burning with hunger.

“Pull my hair,” she orders before taking a deep breath and taking his whole length down her throat. His shout is loud and she slides two fingers inside her. She smiles internally when his fist twists in her hair and pulls, moving her up and down his length, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Fuck!” he curses before she feels him pull her away from his cock. She looks up at him breathing heavily and with her fingers rubbing small circles over her clit. “Fuck…” he repeats in a dazed whisper before he pulls her to her feet by her hair and crashes their mouths together, moans lost in the intense kiss. “What a heavenly mouth you have, Swan,” he whispers when they pull away, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip.

“I need you inside me,” she whimpers, grinding her hips where his cock is pressed against her belly. “Please, Killian.” 

His growl is the only warning she gets before his lips slant over hers and his hook tears at her bra. She moans against his mouth as she removes it the rest of the way and her nipples rub against his chest hair. She feels the bed against the back of her knees but is not allowed to fall with the way his left arm holds her against him. 

“I won’t last long,” he warns, looking into her eyes, his lips swollen and red like hers must look.

“Me either.” She can feel it, deep inside her, that earth-shattering orgasm she knows is about to be pulled out of her. They have all day, all night, forever. That thought has her pull his lips to hers, her nails digging into his back, his moan reverberating in her chest, in her heart.

He nods with closed eyes before he turns her around and she finds herself face down on her bedspread, feet on her carpeted floor and nudged apart by his. Her hips sway in expectation, in the feeling of him filing her once more, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She feels him peeling off her underwear and then his lips at her lower back, at her hips, kissing at the uncovered skin of her plump cheeks, her hands fisting her sheets at his touch. 

At the same time her underwear slips down to her ankles, his mouth finds her center, pulling a gasping moan from her lips. His pleased hum vibrates against her folds and she moves her hips closer to his face. “You’re so ready for me, love.”

She nods and looks at him over her shoulder. “It’s been a long time.”

A shadow passes over his eyes before he nods. “Then let’s not wait any longer.” 

“Please.” Her hips wiggle and begging becomes easier with him, when she knows she can lower her walls and he’ll keep her safe.

The world rights itself when he slowly drags against her walls and she feels like she found the missing piece of a puzzle. His chest is heaving as he waits for her to adjust to him, his eyes burning against her skin when she clenches around him. “Take me, Killian.”

His hips pull back and she is already waiting for the moment they’ll return to her. Her moan is lost in the plush quilt when he bottoms out inside her. His pace is relentless against her and it almost makes her forget the year they were apart. Almost. His brace keeps her hips in place while his hand on her upper back keeps her chest against the bed, her nipples rubbing against the fabric with every thrust. His hips stutter against her at a particularly deep thrust and she wonders how long he’ll be able to last and if it’ll be long enough for her to join him.

Before she can move her hand to her clit to help her along, his hand runs up to the back of her neck, fisting her hair and pulling. The pain mixed with pleasure is delicious and she needlessly places her hands on the bed to hold her up. “Yes! More, please, harder!” 

His fist tightens in her hair and it’s almost perfect, she just needs- The curve of his hook on her clit, pressing against her bundle of nerves, brings her to a loud climax, his name echoing in the hot room. She is pulled to an upright position and his arms wrap around her waist, slamming one, two, three more times against her before he comes with his mouth against her shoulder. His chest heaves against her back, his breathing is hot on her shoulder and she can feel their release drip down her legs. It’s perfect.

“Emma,” he whispers as his lips kiss their way up her neck. “I missed you so much.” His voice is wrecked over more than their straining activities and she lets her head fall over his shoulder to kiss his jawline. 

“Come with me,” she mumbles against his skin, wincing when he slips out of her. Taking hold of his hand, she pulls him to her ensuite. “We need a shower.”

They are quiet as she guides him inside the glass case before she follows. They are quiet as the warm water runs down their bodies, as they slather their bodies in soap, as he massages shampoo in her hair with his hand, as she does the same for him, as they let the water clean them of any remaining product. It’s good - feeling him so close, his touch, his presence. She wants it everyday. She wants him, not just his body, him.

Still without talking, she guides their dry bodies under her sheets, not caring for the afternoon sun still shining outside her window. She needs to lay with him, she needs to have this slow moment with him, to have this time. His eyes stay on hers as they lay on their sides facing each other under her cozy sheets and his hand leaves her grip to move her still damp hair behind her ear, his fingers ghosting over her jawline until his thumb runs over her bottom lip.

“You came to bring me home, didn’t you?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, knows it already. “Something happened.”

“I came back for you,” he answers, his hand taking hers back in his grip. “Something has happened but to be honest, I was just waiting for an excuse to come back to you. Someone sent me a memory potion and a message that a curse was coming, so I took the Jolly Roger as fast as I could away from its purview.”

Her eyes widen. “You outran a curse?” 

“I’m a hell of a Captain.” His smirk is small but it still makes his eyes shine and she brings her free hand to his face. His eyes flutter closed at her touch. “As soon as the dust settled, I knew that the barriers were down and all I needed was a magic bean to find you.”

“Magic beans are not easy to come by.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise and suspicion.

“They are if you have something of value to trade.” His words are careful and his eyes lower to her shoulder.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head before returning his gaze to hers, pain hidden beneath resolve. “Now that you have your memories back, we can return to Storybrooke and see what the damage is. All that matters is that you remember.”

There is more to the story, she can tell. She had seen his desperation for her memories to return and now she sees the grief he tries to hide. “What did you trade for the bean, Killian?”

His eyes and mouth widen at her unrelenting questioning and for a moment, she wonders if he is going to lie to her. “It really is of no consequence, Em-.” 

With her hands on his shoulders, she forces his back onto the mattress while she sits looking down at him, her eyes drilling into his. “What was the price?”

He sighs defeatedly. “The Jolly Roger.”

Her breathing stops and she feels her lips part and eyes widen. His ship, his home, and he traded it to bring her back, for her. She can feel her heart slam against her chest at the realization but instead of panic, there is something else, something scarier, something that had ruined her before. 

But as she looks into his eyes, those loyal, determined blue eyes, she realizes that this is different, she is different and he is different too. And suddenly, it all comes down to a simple truth. “I love you, Killian.”

It comes unrestrained, the words wrapping around the silence that fills the room. His eyes are bright and wide, an overwhelming hope and disbelief making her want to repeat those words until he believes in them. So she does, her voice stronger than before, more confident. 

“I love you.”

She is an open book to him. He reads her heart in her eyes and she sees the moment he finds that simple, wonderful truth. His lips stretch out into a dazzling smile, the definition of happiness. “I love you, Emma.” And how could you not smile at such beautiful words?

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, softer than any kiss they had shared but just as good, if not better. The kiss is more than skin connecting with skin. She feels whole as his arms wrap around her and her hands cup his face. She loves him and he loves her. 

It is perfect.

Tomorrow, she’d worry about fairytale parents, villains and curses. Tomorrow, she’d be their Savior. Tomorrow, she'll go back home. Tomorrow, she’d worry.

Today? Today, she is going to enjoy the feel of Killian’s arms around her. Today, she is going to let him love her with his mouth, with his body, with his words, with his actions. Today, she is going to be Emma Swan, the woman who loves a fairytale pirate and is loved in return.

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Trying Something New: Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief -- a Captain Swan, Once Upon a Time fanfiction

Summary: 

After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.

Read on fanfiction.net or AO3 or below.

Note: Remember that Emma and Killian have given themselves the aliases of Emily and Colin, and they told Marian that her name was Maria. So any POVs that aren't Killian or Emma with an exception or two, will call them Colin and Emily and Maria. I know it will be confusing for a bit, but that's partly why I chose names so close to their actual names, not just to help Emma and Killian remember but to help readers as well.

For my own sanity, Marian's POVs the narration still calls her Marian, but she will call herself Maria. 

Also, while I was writing the muse went wild and decided to bring in a character from a certain kingdom that I wasn't prepared for. 

And the muse decided Killian's new backstory, not me. I don't know why I let the muse out of the kennel, because she always goes wild. 

Hope you guys enjoy. 

Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief

When they arrived in town, Killian led them to an inn further away from the docks where it wasn’t all that busy. The small inn looked quite cozy with its brick facade and warm light shining through the windows. 

He opened the door for Emma and Marian, allowing them to enter first. 

Emma was relieved to be inside where it was warm and where she was one step closer to a bed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could’ve spent walking, even with Killian's support. She felt like a freight train hit her and she'd collapse at any moment. 

The late fall chill was settling in and soon enough winter would be coming. Emma hoped they’d be back home by then if she could get that stupid wand to actually work. 

“May I help you?” An older woman with a kind smile, but sharp brown eyes, looked at them from behind round glasses. 

“Yes, milady.” Killian stepped forward with a charming smile. “My wife,” he motioned to Emma, “our companion,” he motioned to Marian, “and I were all traveling on our way to your lovely town when our horses were stolen.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “Oh my dears, I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

Killian played his part well as he asked her for two rooms; one for Marian and one for them. 

The older woman looked at Emma softly, clearly pleased that a young, newly married couple (according to Killian’s story) were planning on making Marawick Harbor their home. As Killian laid on the charm, Emma smiled small and shy, acting the part of the blushing bride. Honestly, she was too tired to try to speak and add to their act.  

Marian smiled as well, but with her memories gone, she wasn’t too confident in her interactions. 

“Of course, dear.” The old lady smiled a little bigger. “I’m Mrs. Wright. How long will you three be staying with us?”

“Well, we’ll be here for a while.” Killian said. “It might take some time to find more permanent lodgings.”

“Oh how wonderful.” Mrs. Wright smiled. “Since you don’t know how long you’ll stay, perhaps pay for five days and should you find more permanent lodgings before then, you’ll be reimbursed.”

“A lovely idea.” Killian said. “I’ll be paying for both rooms. Poor Maria here lost the most in the robbery. She helped us when we needed it, so it’s only fair to return the favor.”

Emma looked around as the prices were discussed and the room paid for; it was very clean and tidy, which gave her hopes for their room. It was then that Emma realized a flaw in the marriage plan. They’d be getting one room which very likely would have just one bed. Even if it was a big bed, it was still one bed. They’d slept near each other before, camping out in the Enchanted Forest and Neverland, but this would be different. They’d be in closer quarters for one thing. He’d probably be a gentleman and take the floor, but having slept in worse places, Emma didn’t want him to suffer a full five nights or longer if they couldn’t find a place to live. 

“Ready, my love?” Killian asked, turning to her. 

Marian was already following Mrs. Wright up the stairs. 

Emma smiled and took his arm again. Her heart skipped hearing the “my” before love, but she knew that it was just for show for the old lady. Of course, he had feelings for her, but he couldn’t love her so soon? Well, all right, they’d known each other for over a year and a half, but the better part of it they were separated and she hadn’t even remembered him. 

They were led to a room on the second floor, the lady unlocked one for Marian and then the one across the hall for them. One key went to Marian and the other to Killian. “A hot bath will be brought up shortly for both of you young ladies.”

Emma and Marian both thanked her. When Mrs. Wright disappeared, Emma stepped towards Marian. “I could heal your head if you’d like.” Really Emma felt obligated to since they caused her head injury, but she wasn't sure if she could stand to use more magic. 

Marian shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve done so much for me already. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin thanking you.”

“No need to worry about it.” Killian reassured her. 

Marian smiled before entering her own bedroom. 

“So what do we do now?” Emma asked once they were ensconced in the sanctuary of their private room. Emma unbuttoned her cape, glancing at the single bed at the center of the room. It looked to be about full sized. That would be close sleeping quarters. Emma draped her cape over the back of the armchair by the fire, which was low, but still burning. She ignored the singular bed for now, moving instead to sit in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It was a great relief to sit down. 

“Well, if we’ve learned anything on this adventure, we can’t mess with the main timeline.” Killian said, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. “So best thing to do is stay low. We’ll need to find work and a place to live since we don’t know how long we’ll be here. Marawick is a busy port, but it’s far from your parents and Regina.” He explained. “I can guarantee my crew only docked here in emergencies, and since we know my ship, should that happen, we can easily avoid that.” 

“Okay.” Emma nodded. “What job is low profile?” 

“What skills do you have?” Killian asked. 

“Well, I’m a former thief, waitress, bail bonds person, and sheriff.” Emma said. “I doubt the Enchanted Forest has many female law enforcement officers.”

“Well the military is the law.” Killian said. “But you’re not wrong. Female soldiers are unheard of. I’m not sure about waitresses, but a barmaid might be too risky, especially if someone we knew or my past self showed up.”

Emma could agree with that. In her time, bar brawls were a constant, so she expected taverns in this day and age would be full of fights that would draw way too much attention. “So that leaves me with nothing.” 

“We’ll figure it out, Swan.” Killian reassured her. “We just have to stick together.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that.”

His heart stuttered a bit in surprise before he smiled shyly at her.

Emma’s own heart skipped a beat. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

Hurrying over to the door, Killian opened it to find maids with the bath. Once it was settled and they were given towels, rags, and soap, the women asked if anything else was needed. 

“No, thank you.” Emma smiled, allowing Killian to usher the maids away.

Killian set up the privacy screen. “I can leave if you’d like.” 

“The privacy screen is enough.” Emma said, walking behind it. She saw Killian’s silhouette through it due to the firelight behind him. She watched him sit in the armchair, which had its back to Emma. As she took off her clothes, hanging them up, she realized that they didn’t have clothes for bed. With how much magic she used today, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to use it anymore. “What about you?” Emma asked, making conversation to distract herself from that line of thought.

“I can live without one.” Killian said. He took a seat in another armchair and closed his eyes. It had been quite an exhausting couple of days. 

“Why don’t you use the bath after me? I’ll be quick so the water will be warm.” Emma suggested as she soaped herself up. 

“Don’t worry about me, love.” Killian said. “Also, soap in this time isn’t used in hair. You’ll have to use hair oil. Over there on the vanity.” 

Emma glanced over towards the vanity where there were a few bottles of oil, a hairbrush, a comb, a hand mirror, and other items sat ready for use. “Killian, we can both take a bath. We both need it.”

Killian wasn’t too sure about that. Then he looked over at the bed. The lone bed. That was an easy enough fix. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

A huff of frustration left Emma over the subject change. Why was he being so stubborn? “We’re adults, Jones. We can responsibly share a bed.”

He sighed, sensing that they’d only end up arguing more about it if he didn’t concede. Maybe she’d fall asleep first and he could sneak onto the floor. It probably wouldn’t effect her as much as it would him for them to share a bed together anyway. “Fine.”

Emma knew the conversation wasn't over and he was still going to fight her on this, but Emma was tired enough to take whatever victories she could get. Sinking into the warm, steaming water, Emma bit back a moan of pleasure. It wouldn’t do to make sex sounds in mixed company, particularly company she knew would enjoy hearing those sounds. Despite the warm water, thinking about sex and Killian in the same go sent a thrill down her spine. Stop it, Emma. Come on, you can’t think about this. When you get back home and things settle down, then you and Killian can have a long talk. 

Emma continued to lather herself up, trying to dismiss the man from her thoughts, despite him being only feet away. 

Killian stared into the fire, desperately trying to block out the sounds of water splashing behind him. The last thing he needed was picturing Emma naked and wet. Shaking his head, he thought about the next steps that needed to be taken. They needed more clothes. Emma couldn’t keep conjuring things or transforming items. She was hiding it, but he could tell that her magic was draining her. Perhaps in the morning, they could go to a tailor and order some clothes. He’d also have to give some money to Marian as she was as much his responsibility now as Emma, even if he felt Emma was his priority above all else. 

He walked over to where he left his coat and took it back to the armchair. Going through his pockets, he emptied everything out onto a small circular table beside the armchair just to double check how much he had after paying for the rooms in advance. A handful of gold and silver coins, which would last them awhile. Various jewelry pieces with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and opals. Those would fetch a good price. He’d probably use up the coin they had while job and house hunting and save the jewelry for emergencies. He returned everything to his pockets and realized the room was silent. He looked over at the privacy screen. “Emma?” 

There was no answer. 

“Emma?” He called again. When there was still no answer, Killian hesitated, but he had a feeling she’d fallen asleep. Carefully, he peaked around the screen, trying not to see anything he shouldn’t. As he looked, he saw Emma was asleep, her head bent back over the tub rim, hair cascading out. Knowing how tired she was, he was loathed to wake her, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to get her out of bath without her consent. He walked over, kneeling next to the tub. Reaching out his hand, he gently shook her exposed shoulder with his hand. “Emma, love, wake up.”

It took a few more shakes and calling her name for her eyes to flutter open. “Killian?” 

“You fell asleep in the tub.” Killian explained. He stepped away and grabbed a towel as Emma moved to sit up. He held it out for her, diverting his eyes. 

Emma sleepily stood up in the tub and took the towel from Killian, shakily wrapping it around her body. She swayed a bit as the fog of sleep refused to clear. Damn, her magic took more out of her than she thought.

Realizing that Emma was still tired, Killian held his hand and fake hand out to her. “Here, love.”

Emma took his hand and allowed him to hook his arm around her to help her out of the tub. “Thanks.” As she steadied herself, she looked up at him. “We don’t have sleeping clothes.”

And she was too tired to conjure any. Killian understood her meaning. “Go ahead and dry off. You can sleep in my shirt.”

Emma nodded and walked over to the bed. 

Killian quickly unbuttoned his vest and hung it up, before pulling off his shirt. He walked over to find Emma sitting on the bed, wrapped in her towel. “Here you are.” He set the shirt beside her and turned away. 

Quickly Emma shrugged on the shirt over the towel. She stood up, straightening the shirt, and dropping the towel to the floor. She pulled back the covers and fell into the bed, letting sleep claim her once more. 

Killian turned after a few minutes and saw Emma passed out, the covers haphazardly over her. His brows drew together with concern. He shouldn’t have pushed her to use her magic so much when she wasn’t used to it. Walking over to her, Killian properly tucked her in before taking his own bath. The water was lukewarm, but that was fine. At least he’d get clean. Once he was done, he took a throw blanket and the other pillow and made a pallet on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Finally letting the days catch up to him, Killian let his exhaustion take over and he soon fell asleep. 

****************************

After her bath, Marian realized since they were robbed, she had no other clothes. She dried off and decided to sleep in her tunic and undergarments. There was no money on her, so she wasn’t going to be able to buy much of anything without a job. 

Colin had been too kind to pay for her room for the week; he and Emily both did so much for her that she felt she could never repay them. 

Still, her lack of memory didn’t sit well with her. Her head ached, but it dull now. Colin and Emily looked so surprised at her amnesia that Marian doubted they were involved. They’d been so kind she doubted there was anything nefarious motivating them to help her. 

But why could’t she remember anything? Even her own name eluded her until Colin told her it was Maria. Her name didn’t feel quite right, but if that’s the name they knew, surely it had to be her name? Who was Maria though? Where was she from? Why had she been on her way to Marawick Harbor? Did she have family here? Or had she left family behind her?

It was all so confusing and overwhelming. 

Dressing for bed, Marian tried hard to think of anything. What was her mother’s name? Her father’s? Did she have any siblings? Aunts? Uncles?

Nothing came to her. Her mind filled with absolute nothingness.

She fell into bed, her dull ache pounding as her mind fought to uncover its secrets. 

Tears filled her eyes as a deep sense of pain and loneliness overcame her. No one knew who she was, not really, and she had no memory of those who knew her. Colin and Emily, kind as they were, were strangers. Even they admitted they’d only just met her on their travels; likely they’d known her for a day or two at most. 

Why had she been traveling alone before? Perhaps she was independent and stubborn. Had she decided to go out on her own? Had she left a home behind to forge a new path?

Her pillow muffled her sobs as Marian allowed the emotions of the day to possess her. 

****************************

He was up before the sun, still feeling exhaustion in his bones. Pushing himself up, Killian looked up at the bed from his position on the floor, finding Emma still asleep. Good, she deserved rest after everything that she’d been through. Unfortunately, that also meant that he couldn’t get his shirt back just yet. He hoped to get some things done this morning, but he didn’t want to wake her. Perhaps he could don his vest and coat, but that would get him some strange stares. It wasn't cold enough to have his coat fully buttoned up. No, he’d just have to wait until Emma awoke. 

Killian rose from the floor and stretched away the soreness from the past few days and sleeping on the floor. After a good stretch, he went over to where the water pitcher was and poured a glass. Leaning against the dresser, he watched Emma sleep while he drank the water. Sometime in the middle of the night, she moved to the middle of the bed, her arm stretched out over one side. Her face was relaxed in sleep, not peaceful, but at least open and unguarded. It was a nice sight to see. One day, he hoped to see her unguarded in her conscience state as well. 

He wondered if Marian was doing all right. Before they headed out into town, he’d need to give her some money to buy herself some things. While they had to look out for Marian, Killian wished he could keep his focus on Emma. Even though Marian had no memories, surely some things from her life still stuck with her, but Emma was completely new to this world and he had to help her learn. It would be hard to help her with Marian around and not raise Marian’s suspicions. 

When he finished his water, he perused the room for something to do. There were a few books, but nothing piqued his interest, so he chose to sit in the armchair. Once Emma was awake, they’d dress and get Marian and then get some breakfast. Then they’d get clothes and much needed items. After that, permanent lodgings would be a priority. Jobs would be another matter. Since this was a port town, perhaps he could be a fisherman or find some job on the docks. Those were the ones he was best qualified for. For Emma, that would be a little harder. Marian was another story altogether. 

They agreed a barmaid was too risky for Emma. There weren’t truly any jobs that her bail bonds or sheriff skills would be of use. It truly was unfortunate how limited jobs for women were in the Enchanted Forest. There had to be something that Emma could do. Though they wouldn’t know what jobs were even available until they ventured out in the town.

He watched the sun rise through the window of the inn, lost in thought as his mind turned to ways to return to their future. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t a viable option, but Killian didn’t know much of other sorcerers or witches around who could help. They still had the wand, of course, but Emma hadn’t gotten it to work. He wasn’t sure if Rumplestiltskin had been lying or not, but if he’d been telling the truth and Emma’s magic was back, then why hadn’t it worked? What was keeping them here?

As the morning sun rose higher, Killian's attention returned to Emma. Concerned that she wasn't waking, he walked over to the bed, sitting at her side. Gently, Killian brushed a few errant locks away from her face. "Emma?" 

No response. She was breathing; her chest rising and falling steadily. 

That was a relief, but Killian wondered if her magic use had unintended consequences. "Emma, love, can you wake up for me?" 

Not even a groan or grumble left her. She was warm to the touch, but not feverish. She was sleeping, just not waking. 

There was a knock on their room door.

Killian silently cursed. Clearly her magic exhausted her, but it wasn't something he could explain to the maids. Not if they wanted to keep her magic secret. "Who is it?"

"It's Maria." Marian called through the door. 

Killian waked over to the door and opened it, pulling her inside, before shutting the door. 

Marian registered that he was shirtless and tensed up. "Now just wait a minute, you cannot just manhandle..."

"I know, I'm sorry." Killian said, cutting her off. "Emily isn't waking up." He headed back towards the bed, not sure what to do. 

"What do you mean she's not waking up?" Marian followed him, concerned. 

"I think she used too much magic." It was the only thing Killian could think of for Emma's state. "She's not use to using it so much."

Guilt settled in Marian's gut. Hadn't she pushed Emily to use her magic? "What can I do to help?"

Killian brushed his hand against Emma's cheek. He figured she'd be all right for now if she was just sleeping off the ill effects, though Killian worried about just how long Emma would stay like this. "For now, I don't think there's anything we can do." He turned to Marian. "I need to go around town and get some things done. Since we didn't have sleeping clothes, Emily borrowed my shirt. Can you help me change her into her undergarments?" 

Marian nodded, walking over to the vanity where Killian folded up Emma's clothes the night before. 

Killian leaned over Emma and whispered. "Forgive me love. I'll be on my best behavior." His joke fell flat even for him. 

When Marian brought Emma's undergarments and tunic over, they worked together to undress her and redress her, Killian keeping his touch as light and noninvasive as possible without causing suspicion. After all, he was meant to be Emma's husband. This wasn't supposed to be the first time he ever saw her fully unclothed. With Marian's help though, it was a quick process. 

"Could you stay here with her?" Killian asked Marian. "I know it's a lot to ask..."

"Not at all." Marian said. "You've done so much for me, this is the least I can do."

Killian nodded gratefully. He pulled on his shirt and began to fully dress for the day. "I don't know if a healer can help her, but I look around for one. I have other things to do, but I'll come check in when I can. If there are any changes, send someone for me." He ensured all of his coins and jewels were on him. Once he was ready, Killian couldn't help himself, he went back to Emma and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back, Swan." He whispered. "I promise you'll be all right." 

He turned to Marian. "Take care of her." 

"I will." Marian said, not sure exactly what she else she could do.

Killian left the room with a determined stride. He needed to find a healer, but not just any healer. He needed one who understood or had magic. Could he find one here? 

Mrs. Wright might know where to start. 

He headed down to the front desk. 

"Good morning, Mr. Jones." Mrs. Wright greeted. Then she saw his grim expression. "Is everything all right?"

"My wife seems to have fallen ill." Killian said. "Do you know where I can find a healer?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Wright said. "There's a woman who lives near the docks. Vivienne Wilder. I'm not one to fall ill myself, but others say her touch is like magic."

Magic. That intrigued him. "Thank you, Mrs. Wright."

Now, he needed to find out if it was like magic or actual magic. 

****************************

“Oh leave me alone.” An old man growled at the young woman standing before him. His scowl deepened the wrinkles on his pale face. One milky blue eye didn’t see ahead of him, while the other glared at Vivienne Wilder, the resident healer of the Wharf.

Vivienne, who looked in her twenties, sported long black hair in a tight bun. Sepia skin stood out underneath her pale yellow top, and her brown corset and skirts were plain. Sharp dark eyes rested under an arched brow. “Mr. Holbrook, I need to check your ankle.”

“Grandpa.” A young red-haired girl of about ten poked the older man in the shoulder. “Let Miss Vivienne take a look. Grandma says it’s been bothering you.”

“I don’t need no healer.” Mr. Holbrook huffed. “Me ankle is just fine.”

His granddaughter shook her head and spoke to the healer. “Grandma says he’s been limping for days now. Thinks he pulled something.”

“You hush now, Eileen.” Mr. Holbrook admonished. “I can move around just fine.”

“Mr. Holbrook, are you in pain or is your ankle just causing discomfort?” Vivienne asked, deciding to ignore his cantankerousness. 

Holbrook huffed. “It’s just fine I tell you.”

Vivienne shook her head. “Fine. If it’s causing true pain I suggest drinking a cup of ginger tea in the morning and at night.” She handed a vial of oil to Eileen. “Also, rub rosemary oil along the ankle every night and wrap it in a cold compress.” 

“How much for the oil?” Eileen asked.

Vivienne smiled. “No charge this time, but if he’s still having problems, let me know.”

“I ain’t having problems.” Holbrook grumbled. 

Vivienne shook her head and walked away. Mr. Holbrook would come around; he was just old and stubborn. She needed to see to other patients. While she'd lived in Marawick Harbor for just over a year, it took time to earn trust and build up her reputation. 

It wasn’t the first time she had to start over and she doubted it would be the last. There were times she missed home, of course, but going back wasn’t an option. 

As Vivienne turned up an alley, an old woman caught her eye. Wrap in a cloak of black, with silver hair framing her ancient features. 

The Crone’s grey eyes pierced Vivienne in place.

Vivienne curtsied. “Well met, Wise One.” 

“Well met, daughter.” The Crone said. “Lir’s son returns. He has the Light with him.” The Crone was never one to beat around the bush. 

Vivienne’s heart stopped for a long moment. “The older one or the younger one?” 

The Crone grinned showing crooked, yellowed teeth. “The younger one.”

“And he has a Savior with him?” Vivienne scoffed. She remembered him well. Always trailing after her and his brother. Unlike his brother, Lir’s younger son inherited the sea’s tempestuous nature. Leap first, think never. 

“Not just any Savior.” The Crone said. “The Savior. The one to finish what your father began.” 

Disbelief was a rather paltry term for what Vivienne felt in that moment. “The Savior?” It took a moment longer to compose herself. That’s why the Crone was here. “You need something of me?”

“The Savior is untrained. Reckless with her magic.” The Crone said. Her ancient eyes looked Vivienne up and down. “You’ll have to do.” 

“Me?” It didn’t take long for her to understand. “Me? You want me to train the Savior in the craft?” 

“It isn’t as though your father is available.” The Crone lamented. 

Of course, she’d prefer it if he was. Vivienne thought bitterly. Her father was The Sorcerer after all. “What of Lir’s son?” 

“He remembers nothing.” The Crone shrugged. “That is for the best. He’d be much more dangerous if he did.” The old woman stepped forward, looking Vivienne straight in the eye. “Train the Savior, and you will be rewarded.” Then she disappeared in a swirl of mist. 

“Fuck.” Vivienne cursed. The last person she wanted to deal with was Killian Jones. 

****************************

His eyes searched the market for a new mark. Sure, he got proper work once in a while being a lamplighter or a courier ever so often, but Dodger couldn’t let his skills get rusty. 

Any thief worth their salt kept perfecting their art. 

A new face to market caught Dodger’s attention. Average looking fellow, with a thick beard. His clothes were rather nice. A determined stride told Dodger the man was on a mission, which meant he’d be too focused on his goal to pay much attention. 

Dodger used the alleys to get ahead of the man. It looked as though the man was headed in the direction of the docks, so Dodger hurried along in between buildings, coming out near the end of the market, closer to the Wharf end. 

He was now in front of his mark, watching the man walk through patrons with ease. Dodger pretended to be looking at stalls as he made his way towards his mark. Passing by closely, Dodger’s feather light touch fished a few coins out of the man’s pocket. 

Smirking at his success, Dodger didn’t expect a hand on his arm, jerking him back. 

Fierce blue eyes glared at him. “I’ll have my coins back, if you please.” 

His mark marked him. Great. Okay, time to play the innocent victim. 

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Dodger’s offended act was instinct. Even as he looked at the man, sensing danger, he thought maybe he could keep it up. After all, how dangerous could this posh bloke be? "Whatever do you mean?"

The man rolled his eyes. “I don’t have times for games. Hand over the coins and I won’t alert the authorities.” He held out his hand expectantly. 

Dodger stepped back to put distance between them. “Good sir, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about." He needed to convince this man that he was wrong; if he left now, the man would alert the soldiers, and Dodger hadn't gotten caught in Marawick yet, but he didn't have the means to leave the city. 

The man smirked and Dodger's blood ran cold. Calculating anger filled blue eyes. Dodger swallowed. You sure know how to pick 'em, Dodge. 

"Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly." The man stepped closer, hand grabbing Dodger's arm in a vice grip. "I've no time to mess about. Give me my coins, and I won't gut you like a codfish and leave you here for the vultures to pick apart."

Something in the man's eyes made Dodger believe his threats. Unassuming as the man was when Dodger marked him, this man was far from unassuming now. Dodger debated for a moment longer; run or give in. Though he doubt he'd be running from this man for long. He handed the coins over. 

"Thank you," The man grinned tightly before walking off. 

Dodger watched him go, an intense curiosity filling him. Just who was that man?

Don't do it, Dodge. He told himself. Leave it be.

Ah hell, he was the Artful Dodger. When did he ever leave well enough alone?

Dodger kept to the shadows as he followed the man into the Wharf. 

****************************

Emma woke up in a meadow of pink flowers. The sun shone through the canopy of trees, birds chirped, but the world felt as though it was covered in haze. 

"Killian?" Emma called out. Where was he? Where was the inn? She remembered being in the bath and then briefly Killian helping her out. 

She was fairly certain that she fell asleep in a bed. "Killian?" She slowly stood up, looking around at her surroundings. 

"He isn't here." A man spoke, appearing out of nowhere. 

Emma stepped back. "Who the hell are you?"

The man appeared young, in his late twenties or early thirties, it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a thick, brocade shirt, underneath a brown leather tunic vest, and brown pants. His dark brown eyes felt ancient as they looked her over. "I'm Merlin." He said simply.

Emma stared him down as she processed that. "Bullshit."

Merlin grinned. "You're parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, you've met the Evil Queen, Rumplestiltskin, Peter Pan, and your lover is Captain Hook, but Merlin existing is a stretch?"

"Hook isn't my..." Emma shook her head. "Never mind. So what, Camelot and Excalibur are real too?"

"Indeed they are." Merlin smirked knowingly. "But they are also concerns for another time. Right now, I'm more concerned about your appearance here."

"Where is here?" Emma asked. 

"The Astral Realm." Merlin said. "A plane of existence in between living and dead." He motioned to the meadow around them. "This is the Middlemist Meadow of Camelot. I used to tutor my students here. It's a place I find calming. You see, I'm in between life and death myself, trapped for eternity. This is my piece of home." Merlin focused on Emma. "It worries me that the Savior is here."

"I'm not dying, am I?" Emma asked, fear gripping at her heart. She didn't want to die without seeing her family or Killian again. 

"Depends on how you came to be here." Merlin said. "What happened, Miss Swan?"

"Uh, well, it's a long story." Emma said. 

Merlin smiled patiently, a paternal air about him. It made Emma wonder just how old he truly was. "I have plenty of time." He sat down amongst the flowers and beckoned Emma to join him. 

Warily, Emma joined him, uncertain about whether or not to trust him. Even so, she briefly explained her plight leaving out some details here and there she didn't deem necessary, but explaining about the time travel and her overuse of magic. 

"Ah, so you've been training under the Evil Queen." Merlin said. 

Emma hadn't mentioned that. "How did you know that?" Her eyes narrowed as she leaned away from him.

"The Astral Realm transcends realms." Merlin said. "I can be anywhere, any time, and watch anyone."

"Creepy." Emma huffed. 

Merlin shrugged. "It's useful. I've seen Storybrooke and I'm aware that Regina and the Dark One are the only two people you could learn magic from. Considering your magic is the antithesis to the Dark One, he certainly would never teach you. That leaves Regina, and she isn't one to actually sit you down and explain things."

"You're right about that." Emma said. "So what is happening to me?"

"You're fine." Merlin said. "You're in Healing Sleep."

"What is Healing Sleep?" Emma asked. 

"Magic drains the system." Merlin began. "Regina uses magic all the time, so she's built up a tolerance to the drain. More than that, she also isn't very powerful and limited on how much magic she can expend, so even if she felt the drain, it wouldn't cause total exhaustion. There are certain beings, demigods, products of True Love such as yourself, elves, true sorcerers, who have so much power that it's harder to control. You aren't limited on how much magic you can use like Regina is, which means you can overdraw your power. Thus causing Magical Fatigue. Healing Sleep happens when you over use your magic to the point your body forces you to rest in order to refill your magical reserves."

Disbelief overcame her. "Wait, I have unlimited magic?" 

"No, you have a higher limit of how much magic you can use." Merlin explained patiently. "True Love is the most powerful magic of all, but you don't have the same benefits of other species, who have power. You're still a mortal, you still bleed, and you will fatigue. Even after training and building up your tolerance, you would still need to watch how much magic you call upon." 

"Okay, well, I'm stuck in the past for the next four years," Emma sighed. "I'll need to learn this stuff. I just need to wake up first."

"Fate already has a teacher in mind." Merlin smiled. "You'll meet her soon. As for waking up, well, depending on your body's recovery time and how much magic you used, you could be asleep for days, or weeks, or..."

"Don't finish that sentence." Emma glared. "If you're some great sorcerer, why can't you teach me?"

"I'm indisposed at the moment." Merlin said. "You can only meet me in the Astral Realm, but it's dangerous to spend too much time here if you're a novice. It likes to play tricks sometimes, which means if you aren't careful to spot them, your soul could move on into the Afterlife."

Definitely want to avoid that. Emma thought. "Is there a way to speed up this sleep?"

Merlin's infernal knowing grin returned. "You'll learn in due time. Until then, rest and enjoy the Middlemist." 

****************************

Marian ate only a little of the soup the maid brought up for her and Emily. She told the maid that Emily was just sleeping off her illness, and she hoped she was right. Emily was still breathing, and she was warm. Nothing seemed amiss other than Emily would not wake. 

Marian attempted to wake her for lunch, but the blonde woman didn't react. Not a mumble from her lips, not a flutter of her eyes. 

She worried that Emily might not ever wake up. Colin was convinced that her magic had something to do with this, and he would know better being Emily's husband. Marian wondered if this was common. She wasn't surprised by magic existing, though her memories were gone, so surely magic was commonplace.

Why then did Colin and Emily want to hide Emily's magic? Was magic good to have, or was it dark? Colin and Emily didn't seem like bad people, and Emily's magic seemed so helpful.

Could she really trust these strangers after all? Or was it better to move on, and try to rebuild her life on her own? Her gut said Colin and Emily didn't mean any harm, but they also didn't know her. Should she try and find out who she was? Should she ask them if she mentioned where she was from and why she was moving here?

It was just strange that everything was gone. Even her dreams were hazy images, but nothing indicating her past. 

Marian sighed, pushing away her half eaten soup. She glanced where Emily lay, sleeping peacefully, wishing she could sleep just as well. "Why can't I remember?" She whispered to the silence around her. She looked at her hands. There were callouses, light as they were, so she was used to work off some sort. 

But what work? Did she do cleaning? Was she a barmaid? A seamstress? That was just another thing to figure out. Once Colin returned and she knew Emily was going to be all right, Marian needed to go into town and figure out just what to do next. She couldn't rely on them forever. It was time to figure out what little she could and go from there. 

Starting with a job. 

****************************

Killian waited outside a boarding house, where he was told the healer currently was checking on a patient. He hoped this Vivienne could help him. He figured someone with magic would be better, but perhaps the healer knew someone who could help with their situation. 

He just wanted Emma to be all right. He couldn't let anything happen to her, not when he promised to get her home. Not when he needed her safe and happy for his own sanity. 

A young woman with black hair exited the building, a basket of herbs, potions, and poultices in hand. 

Killian pushed off the wall of the house across the street and put himself in her path. "Excuse me, Miss?" 

The healer froze at his voice before turning to face him. Oddly, her dark eyes recognized him. 

An uneasy feeling settled over him. Had Emma unintentional glamoured the face of someone from around here? He doubted it. 

The woman glared at him. “How can I help you sir?” Her defensive stance had Killian backing up a bit.

He wasn't sure why she didn't like him, but he wasn't going to chance pissing her off more than she already was, not when he needed her help. “So sorry to bother you.” Killian smiled gently. “My name is Colin Jones. My wife and I recently moved to town.”

Surprise flickered over her expression. Vivienne relaxed a bit, realizing Killian truly didn't seem to remember her. Though she was confused about the wife part. The Savior couldn't be his wife, could she? That was a dangerous match if that was the case. As it was, the Savior needed to work on her glamour spell. It worked well for non-magical people, but if Vivienne could see through it, then so could the Dark One, or others a might more powerful. This close to the sea, it would be better to disguise Lir's son as strongly as possible. "And why am I interested in this information?"

"I heard you're the healer in town. My wife fell ill on our travels." Killian said. "I hoped you'd come look at her. She's not waking up."

His concern for the Savior was genuine. What did he mean by her not waking up? 

Vivienne wanted to tell him no and go back to her rounds, but the Crone wanted her to teach the Savior. It seemed that for the time being Killian and the Savior were a package deal. Vivienne would deal with that later. "Does she have a fever?"

Killian shook his head. "No, she's warm, but not feverish." Killian glanced around and slowly stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. "What do you know about magic?"

"Enough." Vivienne challenged. There was no way she'd give away her hand. Not to him. "Why?"

"Because my wife has magic." Killian spoke lowly as to not be overheard. "I think she used too much of it." He looked at her imploringly. 

Here's where Killian not having his memories hampered him. He'd been one of her father's best students, all the more why Vivienne disliked him, and now he had to come to her for basic magical knowledge. She'd feel smug if she didn't hate him so much. 

Alas, she had to teach the Savior, so she'd have to suffer Jones all over again. "All right, take me to her and I shall see what I can do."

His immense relief was palpable. "Thank you, miss."

"Vivienne." She introduced. "Vivienne Wilder."

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge - Chapter 4

Now a complete story!

Here we are, finally at the end of this story. When I started posting it in October for @kmomof4 's birthday, I had no idea I would be posting until Christmas!

Thank you and Merry Christmas to my wonderful beta and friend @hookedmom !

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M (for smut in this chapter, requested by the birthday girl)

Words (chapter 4): 11,928

Posted on Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 and also on Ao3 & ffn

Story under the cut.

*********

Hook awoke slowly the next morning, not wishing to leave the dream world in which he was holding Emma Swan. She left the office soon after she locked him back in the cell last night, but he was pleased to see she seemed a bit lighter and less like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, then swung his legs over the side of the cot. Yawning and rubbing his hand down his face to try to wipe away the sleep, he failed to notice David sitting at the desk. When his vision cleared, he met the other man’s gaze, surprised to see it wasn’t laced with anger and dislike. While he wouldn’t term the look one of friendship, at least it was less hostile.

“Good morning, Dave,” Hook said. “Have you been watching me sleep?”

“Not by choice. It’s just my turn to keep an eye on you.”

“I was alone all night and yet I’m here. Do you really still think I’ll try to escape?”

David got up and crossed the floor to stand in front of the cell, rubbing his hands together brusquely. “What did you say to Emma last night?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“When I left here, I could tell she was very upset but refused to talk to me. Whatever you said to her seemed to calm her down, because when she got back to the loft, she was able to tell us what happened with Henry. She said you helped her realize that he will get over it.”

“I just reassured her that she’s a good mother. Henry is a good lad. After he’s had some time to think about it, he’ll see that she had his best interest at heart by avoiding the truth.”

David eyed him skeptically. “How could you possibly know that? You haven’t even met Henry, have you?”

“Not formally, but in the weeks after I arrived in Storybrooke, I observed the two of them together. Additionally, Emma talked about him during our time together on my ship. He sounds like a bright boy.”

“He is. I know Emma feels a tremendous amount of guilt about giving him up for adoption; but ever since he found her, the two of them have been very close. Getting back to the subject though, what truth was she avoiding with Henry? She still hasn’t told Snow and me the whole story about what happened with Neal.”

“Might I suggest you sit down and have that conversation with her soon?”

He was taking a chance, giving Emma’s father advice like that. He figured it wouldn’t go over very well, since David made it quite clear the evening before that he thought of him as nothing more than a pirate.

So Hook was quite surprised when the other man nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m sure if we did, it would help us understand the situation better.”

“Your daughter is a tough lass, but she’s had to handle a lot on her own. I’m sure she would welcome support from her parents.”

“Breakfast is served!” Ruby announced, prancing into the station with a large brown bag in her hand.

David let Hook out to use the restroom, while Ruby set up breakfast. When Hook was locked back in his cell, David grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. “I gotta go, Ruby. I’ll eat breakfast later.” With that, he sprinted out the door.

Ruby gaped as she watched him go. Then she slowly turned toward Hook. “What flew up his skirt?”

*********

By late morning, Hook was seriously considering breaking his promise of not escaping. Once Ruby left, he was alone for hours, endlessly pacing and wondering what was going on with Emma.

When he finally heard the door open, he strained to see who was coming in. Relief flooded him upon seeing golden hair and red leather.

Emma entered and tossed her keys on the desk, then looked at him. As he was trying to read her guarded expression, a grin suddenly spread across her face.

“You were right,” she said simply.

“Of course I was,” he cheeked. “But what was I right about?”

“Henry. He called this morning to say he forgave me and wanted to meet Neal. The three of us had breakfast together and now the two of them are at the park, getting to know each other.”

“That’s excellent news, Swan.”

“It happened soon after David came home and asked me about my history with Neal. I guess you suggested it to him?”

“Aye. I thought it would be beneficial to all involved, except perhaps Baelfire. Did you tell him?”

“Yeah. I sat down with my parents and told them everything.”

“How did they take it?”

“Dad was upset, but Mom was downright irate. Dad had to stop her from going to the boarding house. She wanted to punch Neal in the face.”

Hook laughed. “You must get your fierceness from your mother.”

She smiled again. “They had calmed down by the time Henry called, and didn’t protest about him wanting to meet his dad.”

“I’m very happy things worked out so well.”

“Me, too,” she sighed. “Now, if I can just get it through Neal’s head that he and I have no future together, everything will be great.”

“Still pushing for that, is he?”

“He mentioned something about being a family a couple of times. When Henry left the booth to use the bathroom, I told Neal to stop putting ideas in the kid’s head because it’s never gonna happen.”

“How did he respond to that?”

“He started to protest, but I told him if he keeps it up, I’ll limit his time with Henry. Then he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again.”

“And you trust him to keep that promise?”

“Not really, but I told Henry to let me know if he keeps talking about it. I just don’t want my kid to be set up for disappointment.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” Hook said.

Emma walked closer to the cell. “I wanted to thank you again, Killian, for being there for me last night. You were a good listener, which was exactly what I needed.”

“Well, I couldn’t help being a captive audience,” he teased.

“Ha-ha,” she said flatly, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled. “I’m glad I could help, Swan.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that we saw Belle in the diner today. She asked how long you were going to be locked up. When I told her a month, she was actually fine with that. I was pretty surprised, but once she walked away, Neal told me that after they left the cemetery, he filled her in on the details of his mother’s death.”

Hook’s brows knit together in a scowl. “How did she react to that bit of news?”

“Neal said she was angry and hurt that Gold lied to her. It all happened before she met him, of course, but she was still shocked that he was capable of doing such a thing to the mother of his own child.”

Hook studied the toes of his boots, before speaking quietly. “It’s too bad she was misled by that bloody demon.”

“Yeah, I think on top of everything else, she feels foolish for trusting him. Anyway, she doesn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings toward you.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Not even for shooting her?”

“I told you, she’s very sweet. Apparently, she’s very forgiving, too.”

He thought about that for a few moments, staring into space until Emma asked, “Is something wrong? You look a million miles away.”

His eyes snapped back to her face. “I was, um…I was just thinking that it feels quite nice to be forgiven. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

She smiled and reached into the cell to squeeze his bicep. “I better get some work done. Is there anything I can get you?”

“A book or two to while away the hours would be much appreciated. I’ve already counted all of the cracks in the walls and ceiling of this bloody cell. If I don’t have something to occupy my mind soon, I think I might go mad.”

“I can arrange that. Do you want anything in particular?”

“I trust your judgment, Swan. Whatever you choose will be fine.”

“What about a bodice ripper love story?” she smirked.

He grabbed the bars with his hand and hook and leaned in as close as he could possibly get to her. “Are you intending to put ideas into my head, Love?”

Color immediately flooded her cheeks. “I’ll pick up a couple of mysteries for you.”

As she turned and walked away, he grinned. He found it quite entertaining to fluster Emma Swan.

*********

Every day of the next month followed a familiar routine. Either Emma or David were in the office throughout the day, leaving Hook alone overnight. Ruby dropped off food for him three times a day, and he was allowed out of the cell to use the bathroom, when necessary. Three times a week, he was taken to Granny’s boarding house to shower. After the first week, they didn’t even handcuff him for the walk across town.

Emma provided Hook with a steady supply of reading material from the library. One day, he was taken by surprise when Belle stopped at the station with two books clutched to her chest.

“Emma was checking these out when she got called away for an emergency,” she explained nervously. “I told her I would bring them to you.”

Hook slowly rose from the cot and approached the bars. “That was very kind of you, Lass.”

She moved closer, but didn’t offer the books to him. “I, um, I was hoping to talk to you, anyway.”

Hook waited, giving her an opportunity to collect her thoughts.

“Neal…Baelfire, he…he told me what Rumple did to Milah. How he…killed her. I know he was the Dark One, but I never thought him capable of such a thing. I mean, crushing the heart of his own son’s mother.”

“Aye,” Hook said quietly. “He did it right in front of me.”

“I should be angry at you for killing the man I loved, but after hearing that, I’m not sure I ever really knew him. What you did wasn’t right, but I…I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“I’m not sorry for finally getting my revenge on the crocodile, but I would like to apologize for shooting you. It was very bad form,” he said sincerely. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

Her fingers reached up to rub at her shoulder subconsciously. “I’m recovering nicely. Dr. Whale says I won’t have any lasting damage.”

“That’s good to hear. I truly am sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Once I’m released, I would like to make it up to you somehow, if you’ll allow me.”

“Actually, since my injury, it’s been difficult for me to shelve the books that go on the upper shelves. Would you mind helping with that?”

“I would happily do that for you. It’s the least I can do.”

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, until Belle seemed to remember her purpose for being there. Holding the books out to him, she said, “I helped Emma choose these for you. I must say, you have very good taste in books. You read them so quickly, too.”

He took them from her hands, checking the titles on the spines. “Well, I have very little else to do in here. Being on the ship for months on end helped me develop quite a love for reading. I got into the habit of…acquiring books at the many ports I visited.”

“Acquiring as in stealing?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Pirate, Love,” he quipped. “If you are interested in seeing my collection of books, they’re on my ship. You’re welcome to peruse them at your leisure.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Belle said, “but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t want to go aboard your ship, after what happened there.”

“Aye,” he said simply, nodding his head. “I hope you won’t harbor ill feelings toward me, but I understand if you do.”

Belle clasped her hands in front of herself. “I was thinking…since you have to be locked up for another two weeks, perhaps I could come by and we could discuss books together.”

Hook looked up in surprise. “You want to visit me, after all I’ve done?”

She shrugged slightly. “What’s done can’t be undone. I believe one way to overcome bitterness with someone is to get to know them better.”

“That’s quite noble of you, Lass. I would enjoy having someone with whom to discuss literature.”

Belle smiled. “How about if I stop by after I close the library tomorrow? Do you think you’ll be finished reading The Swiss Family Robinson by then?”

He flipped through the pages of the book. “I’ll be finished. Dave was kind enough to provide me with a lamp so I can read after both he and Emma leave at the end of the work day. I usually read until late at night.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it. Thank you again, Lass - for everything.”

With one last smile, she turned and left the station.

Soon after the door closed, Emma came bursting into the room. “Everything alright, Killian?”

Ever since he asked her to call him by his given name, she stopped calling him Hook altogether. Hearing his given name, he realized it had been centuries since he heard anyone use it. The last person he could remember was…Milah. Now, every time his name passed Emma’s lips, his heart swelled.

“Aye, Love. Why do you ask?”

“I just saw Belle leaving. Did the two of you talk?”

“We did.”

“How did that go?”

“You were right about her - she’s very forgiving. She said Bae told her what Rumplestiltskin did to Milah, and she understood why I wanted my revenge, even though she didn’t agree with my methods. I apologized for shooting her and told her once I am released, I will help with replacing the books on the upper shelves of the library until her arm is completely healed. She accepted both my apology and my offer, then, believe it or not, she proposed stopping by here from time to time to discuss books we’ve both read. As a matter of fact, she’s coming in tomorrow after the library closes.”

“Wow,” Emma remarked. “That’s…unbelievable.”

Hook nodded in agreement. There were several beats of silence, until he said, “Belle said you were called away to an emergency.”

“Yeah. Two of the dwarves were driving over to the mine and Tom sneezed loudly enough to wake a squirrel that was apparently sleeping behind the seat of Leroy’s truck. It started running berserk, which caused Leroy to run off the road into Peter’s pumpkin patch. When I got there, Peter and Leroy were at each other’s throat, while Sneezy was still trying to get the squirrel out of the truck. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt and there was no damage to the truck. All it took was for me to threaten Leroy with jail time if he didn’t pay for the pumpkins he smashed. I don’t think he was interested in being your cellmate.”

Hook laughed as she finished explaining.

“Laugh all you want, buddy. You weren’t the one who had to separate Grumpy and Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. I swear, my life is so bizarre.”

*********

The next day, Hook was waiting for Belle to arrive, when Henry ran into the station, shouting, “Mom! Mom!”

“She’s out at the moment, lad,” Hook responded.

“Oh,” Henry said, looking crestfallen.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Doesn’t she usually meet you after school?”

“Sometimes. My dad was supposed to pick me up today, but he wasn’t there. That’s why Grandma brought me here to find my mom. I have something really exciting to tell her.”

“Well, I know I’m not your mother, but if you would like to share, I would be amenable to hearing it. Unless you want your mother to be the first to hear it, which is quite understandable.”

Henry studied him for a few seconds. “You talk funny.”

Hook couldn’t help chuckling. “Aye, I suppose it does sound funny to your young, modern ears.”

“Did you really kill Mr. Gold?”

Hook scratched behind his ear. “Aye. Did your mother tell you about that?”

“No, and neither did my other mom. I heard some of the kids talking about it at school. He was my grandfather, you know.”

  “I’m aware. I suppose you are angry at me.”

Henry shrugged. “Not really. He wasn’t very nice to anybody, except Belle. He was the beast from Beauty and the Beast, you know. She’s the beauty, of course.”

“That makes sense.”

“You believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It took my mom a while to believe me when she first came to Storybrooke. She didn’t think fairytale characters actually exist.”

“Well, coming from the land without magic the way she did, I’m sure it was quite unbelievable,” Hook chuckled.

Henry scrutinized him. “Where’s your hook?”

“Alas,” Hook said, raising his left arm slightly, “your mother insisted on taking it from me for fear I would use it to escape.”

“Would you?”

“Of course,” Hook grinned. “I am a pirate, after all.”

“Yep, Captain Hook!” Henry said excitedly. “Have you actually been to Neverland?”

“Aye, spent many a year there.”

“Did you meet Peter Pan?”

“I have,” Hook grimaced. “He’s a bloody demon.”

Henry looked astonished. “He is? But in the movie, Captain Hook is the villain and Peter Pan is the good guy.”

Hook scoffed. “I can assure you, that isn’t true.”

“Why? What did he do that was so…”

“Henry?” Emma called, striding quickly into the station. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mom!” Henry said, rushing over to her. “I came here to find you. Guess what? I got an A+ on my geography test! I even got the extra credit question right!”

“That’s great, kid!” Emma said, wrapping him up in a hug. “I’m very proud of you!”

“I”m the only one in the class that got them all right. Thanks for helping me study.”

“You’re welcome. Now, back to my original question. Why are you here? I thought you were going to be with your dad after school.”

Henry shrugged. “I waited for a while, but he didn’t show up, so I had Grandma bring me here to tell you my news.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Let me see if he sent a message.” She unlocked the device and swiped the screen, her expression changing from concern to anger. “Nothing. I’m going to call him to find out what’s going on. Stay here.”

She went into the inner office and shut the door. Hook and Henry watched her become increasingly animated as she carried on a conversation they couldn’t hear.

“She looks mad, doesn’t she?” Henry asked.

“Aye, that she does,” Hook agreed.

“I don’t think she likes my dad very much. That’s why she lied to me about him dying.”

“She had good intentions, lad. She didn’t want you thinking badly about him when she thought you would never have a chance to meet him.”

“I know. I was really mad at her for a while, but I get it now.”

“I’m very happy you forgave her. She was quite distraught knowing how angry you were about it.”

Emma ended the conversation and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. “I’m sorry, kid. It looks like you’re gonna have to go hang out at the mayor’s office for an hour or so until my shift is over. Regina knows you’re coming.”

“Is my dad okay? Did something happen to him?”

“He’s fine, he just…something came up. He said to tell you he’s sorry and he’ll see you another day.”

Henry’s face fell. “Oh, okay. I won’t get to tell him about my good grade, then.”

  “You can tell him the next time you see him,” Emma soothed.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled.

“Come on. I’ll walk with you,” she said, slinging her arm over his shoulders.

Hook watched them go, silently seething at Bae. He was handed a golden opportunity to get to know his son, but evidently wasn’t putting much effort into it. This was Storybrooke - how could something come up that was more important than collecting his son from school?

Hook was still ruminating on that, when Belle’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hook? Are you okay?”

He mentally shook himself and forced a smile onto his face. “Aye, lass. I’m looking forward to our discussion.”

*********

Belle was on her way out when Emma returned to the station. They exchanged pleasantries, but the smile quickly slipped from her face as she dropped down in her chair.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

“I’m fine. Neal is an ass.”

“What was his excuse for not spending time with his boy, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He met someone and was getting ready to go on a date.”

“He met someone? In Storybrooke?” Hook asked with undisguised surprise.

“That’s what I said. Apparently, she’s one of Cinderella’s stepsisters.”

“I heard those two are a bit dense.”

Emma scoffed. “They would have to be, to go out with Neal. That doesn’t say much about me though, does it?”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, Love. You were young, impressionable and alone. I have a feeling he took advantage of that.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. Now he’s making excuses to not see Henry. Hurting me is one thing, but hurting my kid is inexcusable. If he keeps it up, I’m gonna tell him to go back to New York and stay there.”

She stood up and began pacing in front of his cell. After a couple of passes, he reached through the bars to lightly grasp her arm. “Calm down, Swan. You handled the situation and Henry will be okay. Perhaps this will be the only time Bae lets his son down.”

“I wish I could believe that. Unfortunately, he tried to back out on seeing Henry a couple of other times, but I insisted that he keep his promise. A father shouldn’t have to be forced to see his own son.”

“Too right, Love.”

“This is one reason, among many, why I don’t want him around Henry. He’s unreliable and only cares about himself.”

“How does Henry feel about his father?” Hook inquired.

“He seems to like spending time with Neal, but I think the novelty of meeting his dad is wearing off a bit. He’s not as excited to be with him as he was when they first met.”

“I’m sure the boy senses his father isn’t fully committed to him. It’s probably putting a strain on their relationship.”

Emma nodded in agreement. Wrapping her hands around the bars, she looked at him for a few moments before saying, “You made a good impression on him. He talked about you the entire walk over to Regina’s office.”

“He’s a bright lad. I enjoyed my conversation with him.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He’s a good kid, which is amazing, considering what he’s been through.”

“What has he been through?”

“Being given away the day he was born, then being adopted by Regina. She sent him to therapy and tried to make him think he was crazy when he got the storybook and started figuring things out. Once he found me, he had to learn how to deal with two mothers, and now a father who he thought was dead. It’s a lot for a kid his age.”

“He inherited your toughness, lass. You haven’t had an easy life, either.”

She smiled slightly, then sighed. “I better get out on patrol. Thanks for letting me vent. Again. Having you behind bars is convenient when I need a captive audience.”

“I would be there for you even if I weren’t in this cell, Swan.”

Her smile grew. “Thank you, Killian.”

*********

“Ready to go to Granny’s for a shower, Hook?” David asked once they were finished eating the breakfast Ruby delivered.

“Aye, mate,” Hook answered, standing up and stretching.

David unlocked the cell and swung the door open. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I’m sure you are quite capable of asking one,” Hook teased.

“You know what I mean,” David said, rolling his eyes. “Why have you decided not to escape? You’ve had several opportunities.”

Hook waited until they were out of the station and walking toward the boarding house before he answered. “I have my reasons for staying.”

“The dinner you intend to have with Emma?”

“Aye, that’s one reason. Another is the fact I have nowhere else to go. Now that I’ve gotten my revenge, I’m at a loss as to what to do next. This town is as good a place as any to stay, until I decide.”

David was getting ready to respond, when Happy walked past. “Good morning, Sheriff! Good morning, Hook! Great day, isn’t it?” he asked with a huge smile.

Both men greeted him in return, then walked on. They encountered a half dozen more people before they reached the boarding house, all of them calling out a greeting to both the sheriff and the pirate.

“It seems you’ve been accepted as part of Storybrooke, Hook,” David observed. “Everyone says hello when you walk down the street, you have a book club with Belle, Henry thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread, Ruby flirts with you ridiculously when she brings your meals, Granny includes extra goodies in those meals, and Emma…well, she seems to have found a confidant in you.”

Hook digested this assessment, pleased to know Emma’s father noticed the bond they had and didn’t seem to be upset about it. “What about you, Dave?”

“What about me?”

“I’m winning you over, I can feel it,” Hook quipped.

“I, uh, I guess you have grown on me a bit.”

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people.”

They arrived at the boarding house and walked down the hall to the room where Hook always took his shower. “I’m going to get some coffee while I wait. Would you like some?” David asked.

“Of course,” Hook said. “You know my order, mate.”

He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Leaning back against it, he smiled. Perhaps he truly had found a place to belong.

*********

“Today is the day,” Emma announced when she entered the station the morning of Hook’s release.

“Aye, Love,” Hook responded with a grin. He rose from the cot, stretching his arms over his head. “As much as I have enjoyed your hospitality, I am more than ready to regain my freedom.”

She opened a desk drawer, grabbed the keys and held them up. After taking a couple of steps toward the cell, she suddenly stopped and pivoted to go back to the desk.

“Forget something, lass?”

She pulled out another drawer and shuffled through it. “Thought you might want these back,” she said, holding up his oversized hairpin and hook.

Hook hadn’t worn his brace since he’d been locked up. He rummaged under the mattress where he kept it, slipped off his shirt, then slid the straps over his shoulders. When he turned, still attaching the cuff over his stump, he caught Emma ogling him.

“See something you like?”

“Huh?” she asked, her eyes still focused on his exposed chest. “Oh, uh, no. I just haven’t seen…I mean…” Her face was rapidly filling with color.

He chuckled as he began to put his shirt back on. “Why, Swan, have I rendered you speechless?”

Her eyes finally met his, which were sparkling with amusement. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you half-naked,” she admitted.

She unlocked the cell door and swung it open. After accepting the hairpin from her, he expertly used it to button up half of the shirt, then slipped it into his pocket, smirking as he saw her eyes lingering on his chest again.

“My hook, if you please,” he said, holding out his hand. She handed it to him and watched him lock it into place. “Might I have my coat, also?”

“Yeah, it’s in the closet. Come on.” She turned and led the way toward the front of the station.

He stepped out of the cell and breathed deeply. He may have been let in and out of his cell numerous times since Regina pronounced his sentence, but knowing that this time, he wouldn’t be returning to the small, dank cell felt exceptionally good.

Emma came back into the room, carrying his long, leather duster. “This thing weighs a ton. How the hell do you wear it all the time?”

He took it from her and pulled it on, the weight and creak of the leather a welcome friend to him. “I’ve gotten used to it through the centuries.”

“What are you, like a million years old?”

“More like two hundred.”

They walked out the door, almost bumping into David as he was about to enter. “Ah, that’s right. You’re leaving us today, huh Hook?”

“Aye, mate. I can stop in from time to time to play cards again, if you like.”

Emma looked between them. “You guys played cards with each other?”

David shrugged. “What else was there to do all those hours we were stuck in here together? Hook is a decent poker player. Have you ever seen him shuffle the cards one-handed?”

Emma’s eyes shifted to Hook. “No I haven’t. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

He took a step into her space. “There are numerous things I would like to show you, Swan.”

David cleared his throat. “Don’t make me punch you again.”

Hook chuckled and offered his hand. “It was a pleasure being your prisoner, Dave.”

David grinned as he gave it a firm shake. “I hope you don’t make a habit of it.” Then he went through the door into the station.

“Come on, Killian,” Emma said. “I’ll treat you to breakfast at Granny’s to celebrate your freedom.”

“That’s very kind of you, as long as you’re not considering it to be the meal we agreed upon.”

“You said it was going to be dinner on your ship. Oh, by the way, I’ve been stopping by the harbor every few days to make sure it’s okay.”

“She,” Hook corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“You should refer to my ship as ‘she’, not ‘it’.”

“You make it sound like a woman. It’s just a ship.”

He whirled around and stopped in front of her. “She’s not just a ship; she’s my home. We’ve been through more together than you can even imagine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Emma apologized.

“It’s quite alright,” he said, turning to resume walking. “Thank you for checking on the old girl.”

They arrived at the diner, where they were greeted by Granny, Ruby and a few patrons, including Leroy, who even offered them a hint of a smile.

As they took a seat in one of the empty booths, Ruby approached with the coffee pot and asked, “Same as usual, Hook?”

“Aye, Love,” he answered, flipping the coffee cup upright on the saucer.

“What about you, Sheriff?” Ruby asked as she filled Hook’s cup.

“Pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon,” Emma said, turning over her own cup.

“Same order as Hook’s. You two have similar tastes,” Ruby remarked.

After she walked away, Emma tilted her head and looked at him curiously. He took a slow sip of his coffee, swallowed, then asked, “Something on your mind, Swan?”

“You really have been accepted by the people in this town.”

He sat back in the booth, his fingers fiddling with the spoon laying in front of him. “Is that so surprising?”

“Well, you were in jail for shooting Belle.”

“She’s fully recovered and has forgiven me. Lately, she’s been mentioning a man named Will Scarlett quite frequently.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them around town together. She seems to have moved on from Gold.” Emma took a drink of her coffee before adding, “You, um, you also killed a couple of people.”

“Both of whom were villains who would have killed me first, if given the chance. I believe the townspeople understand that.”

“There must be different rules for people from the Enchanted Forest. In the land without magic, you can’t get away with murder, unless it’s clearly self defense.”

“You think I should have been incarcerated longer?”

“I’m not saying that. In all honesty, the world is a better place without Cora and Gold. I’m just a little surprised that everyone is willing to overlook your crimes to make you one of their own. Even my dad seems to be your…mate,” she said, attempting to imitate his accent.

He shrugged. “It’s nice to know people are willing to give me a chance, but as I’ve said before, there’s only one person whose opinion matters to me.”

Ruby arrived with their meal, interrupting their conversation. Once she walked away, Emma picked up a slice of bacon and raised it to her mouth. Before taking a bite, she quietly said, “I, um, I hope you decide to stay in town.”

Hook froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, a slow smile spreading across his face. As the two of them continued eating their breakfast in companionable silence, he felt a spark of hope that perhaps he was beginning to win Emma Swan’s heart.

*********

As soon as he got back to his ship later that morning, he began planning the dinner he and Emma would share. He wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, and he knew he would need help.

Over the next two days, he visited many shops in town and once he procured everything he required, he made a trip to the sheriff’s station. Striding into the familiar confines, he saw Emma standing at the file cabinet with her back to him.

Quietly walking up behind her, he leaned in and asked, “Did you miss me, Swan?”

She jumped. “Oh my gosh! You scared me!”

“Sorry, Love. I didn’t intend to take you by surprise.”

“It’s okay,” she said, closing the drawer and turning to face him. “What are you doing here? I thought you would want to stay away from this place.”

“I came to invite you to dinner tonight.”

“Tonight? That’s kind of short notice. How do you know I don’t have something to do tonight?”

“I talked to your parents and they said they weren’t aware that you had any plans. Your mother volunteered to take care of Henry for the evening, and David is willing to finish your shift, so you’ll have time to get ready.”

“So, my mom and dad are okay with me having this dinner with you?”

“Aye, so it seems. I told you we were getting along,” he smirked. “What do you say, Love? Will you join me for dinner on my ship?”

“Well, it seems like you have everything covered, so…sure.”

“Excellent! I will be at your door promptly at six o’clock.”

“You don’t have to pick me up. I can drive over to the docks…”

“Nonsense,” Hook said firmly, cutting her off. “A gentleman would never allow a lady to transport herself to their date.”

“Wait - you’re considering this a date?” Emma asked.

He was confused. “That was our agreement, was it not?”

“You just said dinner. You never used the term ‘date’.”

His heart sank a little. “Does that change things?”

To his surprise, she took a step forward and rubbed her hand down his arm. “No, it’s fine. I’ll still have dinner with you. How should I dress for this…date?”

“It promises to be a clear night with a chill in the air. Since we’ll be dining on the deck, I would advise you to dress warmly.”

“Got it. I guess I’ll see you at six o’clock then.”

He gave her a crooked grin, then turned to leave the station. He still had a lot of preparation left for his date with the fair Lady Swan.

*********

Hook straightened the left cuff on his new, leather jacket, which had a convenient zipper allowing it to fit over his brace. He had thought about handing her one of the dozen red roses from the arrangement he purchased as soon as she opened the door, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with such a romantic gesture.

After taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he raised his hook to rap on the door. He only had to wait a few moments until Emma swung it open. He was very glad he had taken that deep breath, because gazing at the vision before him, he was having trouble breathing at all.

She was dressed in form fitting, black jeans, knee-high black boots with a heel, and a dark blue, hip-length coat, embellished with colorful flower appliqués running from shoulder to shoulder. Her thick, blonde hair draped loosely over her shoulders, creating a lovely contrast against the inky color of the coat.

The somewhat nervous smile on her face disappeared as she surveyed him, her eyes growing wide and her jaw dropping. He was sure she had been expecting him to wear his usual pirate attire, so seeing him in modern clothes had to be a shock.

“Swan,” he breathed, “you look…stunning.”

“You…look…”

“I know,” he smirked.

She smiled genuinely and called over her shoulder, “I’m leaving!”

“Oh, wait!” He heard Emma’s mother call. Then she came bouncing into the room with a strange contraption in her hands. She stood in front of Hook and Emma, held it up and pushed a button. It made an odd whirring sound, then a thick square of paper came out of a slot in the front.

“Pictures? Really?” Emma sighed. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

Mary Margaret waved the square around in the air. “It’s the first of your dates I’ve ever gotten to witness,” she explained. “I want to commemorate it.”

Just then, Henry came bounding down the stairs two at a time. “Hey, Hook!” he greeted, then pulled up short. “What happened to your pirate clothes?”

“Now that I’m living in the modern world, I decided I should dress to fit into it,” Hook responded, looking down at his new outfit.

“Oh,” Henry said, clearly disappointed. “So you’re not a pirate anymore?”

Hook chuckled. “I’ll always be a pirate, lad.”

“Mom says she’s having dinner with you on your ship.”

“That’s right.”

“When can I see your ship?”

“You’re welcome aboard anytime, as long as it’s alright with your mother.”

Henry turned to Emma. “Can I, Mom?” he asked excitedly.

Emma shot Hook a quick look before answering, “As long as you listen to Hook and do what he tells you. And as long as it’s okay with Regina.”

Henry’s face fell. “She probably won’t let me. I don’t think she likes Hook very much.”

“Henry!” Emma and Mary Margaret exclaimed at the same time.

Hook just chuckled. “She probably doesn’t, but to be fair, she’s not fond of most people.”

“That’s true,” Henry said, nodding his head.

“We better get going,” Emma said. After giving Henry a hug, she pulled on some black gloves. “Ready, Killian?”

“Aye, Love,” he said, opening the door for her. “Goodbye, lad. Goodbye, milady. Have a good evening.” Mary Margaret took another picture, causing Emma to roll her eyes.

Hook followed Emma into the hallway, closing the door behind himself. As they were descending the stairs, David came through the outside door. “Leaving already?” he asked. “I was hoping to be home by the time Hook arrived.”

“Don’t worry, Mom took pictures,” Emma assured him.

David eyed Hook. “I want her home by midnight.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Emma exploded. “I don’t need a curfew. I’m not a teenager!”

“You’re still my little girl and he’s still a pirate.”

“He’s also your card playing buddy, and I can take care of myself,” Emma snapped. “Come on, Killian. Let’s go before he decides I should wear a chastity belt.”

“Now that you mention it…” David began.

Emma grabbed Hook’s hand and forcibly pulled him out the door.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street. “Did you walk here?”

“I don’t have any other mode of transportation. It’s a lovely evening, but if you prefer to drive…”

“Walking is fine with me.”

He offered his elbow, she threaded her arm through it, and they started off down the sidewalk. As they passed various shops, they peered through the windows, commenting on the contents. When they walked past Gold’s Pawn Shop, with a ‘closed permanently’ sign on the door, Hook remarked, “Belle told me she plans to open the shop to the public soon, so everyone can claim what is rightfully theirs.”

“That’s nice of her,” Emma commented.

They continued on in silence for several steps, until Hook quietly said, “She told me he still has my…my hand in a jar in the back of the shop.”

Emma snapped her head around to look at him. “You’re kidding! That…that’s really morbid.”

“Aye,” he agreed simply.

They walked on a bit further. “Maybe…” Emma began thoughtfully.

When she didn’t continue, Hook asked, “What’s on your mind, Swan?”

“I do have magic. Maybe I could…reattach it?”

He stopped and turned to face her. “You would be willing to do that?”

“Of course. I can’t guarantee it would work, but I don’t think it would hurt to try. That is, if you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, and I fully believe you can do it. You proved how powerful your magic is at Lake Nostos.”

“If it does work, what will everyone call you? Captain Hand?”

“Killian will do,” he said with a shake of his head.

Emma took his arm again and they resumed walking. “I’ll talk to Belle tomorrow,” she promised.

“Thank you, Love,” Hook said, past a lump in his throat. After centuries without his hand, the thought that he could soon have it back made him a bit emotional.

When they were within sight of the docks, Hook steered them down a side street. “Where are we going?” Emma asked.

“I ordered food from Tony’s and told him I would pick it up on our way. I want it to be piping hot when we eat.”

“Tony’s, huh? I’ve heard about that restaurant, but I haven’t eaten there.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

“Sure, who doesn’t? Besides, I like that it’s not Granny’s.”

He laughed. “Lady Lucas has tasty food, but I thought you deserved something different tonight.”

After picking up his order, they covered the remaining distance quickly. Emma was sniffing the air with a smile on her face. “Oh my god, that smells so good!”

They arrived at the pier and Hook gestured for her to precede him up the gangplank. She came to a stop as soon as she stepped onto the deck, taking in the sight before her.

Hook had set up a square table, flanked by two chairs. It was covered with a red tablecloth and had a huge bouquet of red roses sitting in the middle, surrounded by fine china plates, silverware, and crystal wine glasses. An ice bucket containing a bottle of wine was on one corner. Lit lanterns were scattered around the deck, each one creating a halo of soft light.

“Wow,” Emma uttered. “You really went all out.”

“Nothing but the best for you, Love.”

She gave him a grateful look, then walked over to the table, bending to smell the roses. “They’re beautiful.”

He moved to join her. “So are you, Emma,” he said sincerely.

He could tell she wasn’t sure how to respond to his sentiment, so he set the large brown bag of food down and pulled out a chair for her. Withdrawing the box containing breadsticks, he set it in front of her, then picked up a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine. While he was pouring the burgundy liquid, she opened the box, taking out a mouthwatering breadstick. Biting into it, she moaned at the taste.

They enjoyed their dinner and the easy conversation accompanying it. After consuming their plates of pasta and meatballs, he reached into the sack and pulled out one final box containing tiramisu.

“I didn’t think I could eat another bite, but I’ll make room for that,” Emma said, eyeing the dessert with undisguised eagerness.

“I’ve never tried it, but it came highly recommended,” Hook explained.

They ate the rich cake, uttering expressions of delight as they savored it.

Once the meal was finished, Hook noticed Emma beginning to shiver. “Cold, Love?” he inquired.

“Just a little chilly,” she replied, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, heading toward the ladder leading below deck. He returned with a blanket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, grasping the edges and pulling it tightly around herself.

He put his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the bow. “I’m happy it’s clear this evening,” he said, pointing at the sky with his hook. “I’ve always loved gazing at the stars, even before I became a sailor.”

“There were stars all the way back then?” she teased.

“Curses and Neverland may have given me experience, but as you can see, I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

She scoffed lightly, then turned her attention to the sky. “Is it true that sailors use the stars to navigate?”

“Among other things.”

“The only constellation I can find is the Big Dipper,” she admitted.

As Hook began pointing out the various star configurations, she leaned back against him, her head on his shoulder while she scanned the sky. Wanting to keep her there as long as possible, he began regaling her with myths related to each constellation.

When he became quiet, she breathed, “Tonight has been very nice, Killian.”

“Aye, it has.”

She turned to face him, slowly running her hands up his chest. “I like your new clothes. They suit you.”

“Thank you, Love. They may take some getting used to, after centuries of wearing my leather trousers and duster.”

“You don’t plan to stop wearing your pirate garb altogether, do you?” she asked, her fingers caressing the lapels of his jacket.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you would miss it if I did?”

“Maybe,” she said coyly, ducking her head to look up at him through her lashes.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, putting his hand and hook on her hips to pull her a bit closer, “you say the word and I’ll wear them anytime you want.”

“Just for me?”

“Aye,” he affirmed.

“Good,” she whispered, then tugged on his lapels, bringing his lips to hers.

His surprise quickly turned to pleasure. The blanket around her shoulders slid to the deck as he ran his hand up her back to tangle in her hair. He swiped his tongue across her lips, tasting a hint of wine and garlic. She opened to him and he eagerly accepted her invitation.

  Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, drawing in quick breaths when necessary. To his great delight, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end it. Their tongues explored, while their hands roamed, fingers teasing any skin they encountered.

When their lips finally separated, Emma rested her forehead against his. Neither of them spoke as the heavy breaths they were taking mingled between them.

“That was…unexpected,” Hook murmured.

“Yeah, for me, too,” Emma concurred. “I wasn’t planning to do that, I just…”

“Couldn’t resist my charm?”

She took a step back and peered up into his face, her fingers still toying with the hair curling behind his ears. “Something like that.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but when she opened her mouth to do so, she seemed to have second thoughts and began to pull away from his embrace.

“Hey, talk to me,” he urged.

She sighed. “I don’t…I don’t know if I want to be in…a relationship. I’m not good at them.”

“Perhaps you simply haven’t met the right person yet.”

“And you think that person is you?”

He looked deeply into her eyes, radiating sincerity as he spoke. “I never thought I would be capable of letting go of my first love…of my Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is, until I met you.”

Her jaw dropped and she blinked rapidly. “Are you…are you saying that you…”

“Love you? Aye, that’s what I’m saying. You have captured my heart, Emma Swan - a heart that has been hardened for more years than I care to admit.” As she opened her mouth to speak, he added quickly, “I realize you aren’t ready to return my sentiments, but if you give me a chance, I believe I will eventually win your heart. Not through any trickery, but because you want me.”

“Killian, I…” she began. Wrapping her arms around herself, she bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes, clearly reeling from his confession.

“Emma, I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Please don’t pull away from me.”

She raised her eyes to meet his once again. He held his breath as she studied him, then felt a thrill of hope when she leaned in to press a brief kiss to his lips. “Be patient,” she requested.

“I have all the time in the world.”

*********

After walking Emma home and enjoying another languid kiss outside her door, Hook went back to his ship and cleared away the remains of dinner, returned the table, chairs and lanterns to their rightful places and retired to his quarters.

Lying in his bunk, his mind replayed the events of the night. Dinner went as he had hoped, and the time they spent in conversation was extremely enjoyable. He hadn’t planned to admit his feelings, but her kiss took him completely by surprise and brought those feelings bubbling to the surface where he couldn’t suppress them.

If he had to pinpoint the moment when he realized he had fallen in love with her, it was when she came to the station and told him Henry’s reaction to finding out about his father. The way she trusted him when she hadn’t even wanted to tell her own parents, and released him from the cell so he could comfort her, gave him hope that he was breaking down the walls she built around her heart. Then when she used his given name, his love for her was solidified.

He hoped she wouldn’t have regrets when she thought about their evening together. He certainly didn’t. Touching his lips, he smiled, then closed his eyes and went to sleep, dreaming of the lovely Emma Swan.

*********

Hook was polishing the railings of the Jolly Roger late the next morning, when he saw Emma’s yellow contraption quickly approaching. Laying the cloth and jar of polish aside, he disembarked and met her as she was opening the door.

“Hey,” she greeted breathlessly. “I just talked to Belle. She wants me to bring you to the pawn shop right away so I can try to reattach your hand.”

His heart began to race. He had absolute faith in Emma, so he knew that after more than two hundred years, he was within minutes of having his hand restored.

Climbing into the passenger seat, he watched her maneuver the car the short distance through the streets, neither of them speaking. He was sure she was nervous about using her magic and he didn’t want to say anything to put more pressure on her.

Once she parked in front of the pawn shop, she cut the engine and looked over at him. “You want this, right? Henry might not think you’re quite as cool without your hook,” she teased.

He could tell she was trying to lighten the mood. “He can see it whenever he’s on my ship,” he chuckled.

She blew out a heavy sigh. “Alright then, let’s go,” she said, opening the car door, as he did the same.

Belle met them outside the shop, unlocked the door and led them inside. “Wait here. I’ll go in the back and get the jar,” she said.

Hook noticed Emma was anxiously wringing her hands. He went to her and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t fret, Swan. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be no worse off.”

Belle came through the thick curtain carrying a large, glass jar containing clear liquid and a human hand. Hook glanced at Emma and saw her swallow hard as she looked at it.

“Why would he keep it all of these years?” she asked.

“Probably to remind himself that he should have finished the job and killed me to get what he wanted. He cut it off to get the magic bean he thought I was holding, but when he wasn’t looking, I slipped it into my pocket. I’m sure he wasn’t happy when he discovered I tricked him.”

He stepped closer to the counter where Belle set the jar. Carefully turning it around, he got a lump in his throat remembering that fateful day when he lost so much more than his hand.

He didn’t hear Emma move to stand beside him, until she spoke quietly. “Are you alright, Killian?”

“Aye.” His voice was gruff with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Aye, Love. I just didn’t think there was a chance of ever having it back.”

“It will take powerful magic to reattach it,” Belle stated.

“Emma is bloody brilliant wielding her magic,” Hook said proudly. “She’s the only person I’ve ever seen who repelled Cora’s attempt to take her heart.”

“Rumple always said that magic isn’t an intellectual endeavor,” Belle said. “It’s emotional. You have to ask yourself, why am I doing this? Who am I protecting?”

“Like you did when you restored the waters of Lake Nostos,” Hook said. “You were thinking of how much you wanted to get back to your son and father.”

Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied the macabre sight of the hand floating in the formaldehyde. Finally, she locked eyes with him. “Are you ready to do this?”

“I am if you are, Swan.”

She closed her eyes tightly and held her right hand over the top of the jar. Hook watched her intently as her face became a mask of grim determination. Then she slowly moved her hand in a circle three times, thrusting it toward him at the end of the final rotation.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could do it, but he hadn’t known what kind of sensation to expect when his hand was back in its proper place. A tingling began at his shoulder, moving down his bicep to his elbow, then his forearm, wrist, and all the way to his…fingertips!

“You did it, Love!” he exclaimed, turning his reattached hand this way and that, while flexing his fingers.

Her eyes popped open, widening when she saw him holding up his hand in front of himself.

“Oh, Emma!” Belle exclaimed, giving a happy little clap. “How wonderful! I’m so happy for you, Hook!”

“I don’t believe you can call me that anymore, Love,” Killian said gleefully.

“No, I suppose I can’t,” Belle agreed. “What shall I call you, then?”

“My given name is Killian.”

“Killian it is,” she said, smiling brightly.

His eyes turned back to Emma, who was staring at her own hand, apparently in disbelief that it was capable of such powerful magic. Stepping forward, he captured her right hand with his left one.

She blinked rapidly before stammering, “I…I d-did it.”

“You’re a bloody marvel,” he praised. Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, Love.”

“I, um…I need to get back to the library,” Belle cut in. “The door is locked. Please close it tightly when you leave.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried out of the shop.

“I can’t believe I did it,” Emma said, seemingly unaware of the other woman’s departure.

“I knew you would,” Killian assured her.

She finally dragged her eyes up to meet his. “You really did have faith in me, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” he said simply. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What were you thinking when you did it?”

“Honestly? I…I was thinking about how important you are to me. You helped me get back to Henry from the Enchanted Forest and protected me from Gold to bring me back from New York. You listen when I need a sounding board and offer me good advice. You…you have become my best friend and I desperately wanted to help you by giving you the thing you want the most.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he said, wrapping a strand of her golden hair around his finger.

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely happy to have my hand back,” he said. “But the thing I want most isn’t having it restored. I could have gone on living without it, if necessary. However, I couldn’t go on without you. You’re the most brilliant, beautiful, mesmerizing woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Do you really mean that?”

“Every word.” Taking another step into her space, he murmured, “And I am bloody grateful that now I have more than one hand to hold you with, if you’ll allow me.”

In answer, she closed the remaining distance between them, pressing her damp cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of caressing her with both hands.

*********

When he and Emma walked down the sidewalk together the next day, she surprised him by taking his left hand and holding it all the way to Granny’s. The fact that she didn’t seem bothered by being seen showing signs of affection toward him made his heart beat faster with hope that she was beginning to have the same feelings for him that he already expressed for her.

With Emma and Regina’s permission, Henry began spending quite a bit of time learning the basics of sailing with Killian. One Saturday afternoon, he took his ship into the open water beyond the harbor with Emma and Henry aboard, so the boy could show his mother all he had learned. Killian wasn’t sure which of the three of them was the proudest.

It didn’t take long for word to get around town that Captain Hook was now a man without a hook. Townspeople smiled broadly as they greeted him as ‘Killian’ and received a smile just as bright in return. As time passed, he became more and more comfortable, and everyone welcomed him as a fellow citizen of Storybrooke.

David no longer showed any resistance toward the pirate dating his daughter. In fact, the two men were actually becoming the best of friends. Killian was often a dinner guest at the loft, being invited by Mary Margaret the majority of the time. The conversation around the table was always lively and filled with laughter. Afterwards, the four adults and Henry played card games until it was time for the boy to go to bed. Killian thoroughly enjoyed the time with Emma and her family.

As the weeks went by, he and Emma went on several more dates. Whether it was on his ship, at a restaurant or strolling around town, Killian couldn’t get enough of spending time with the woman he loved more deeply every day.

One evening, after having dinner with Emma, Mary Margaret and David while Henry was at Regina’s, Killian retired to his ship. He had just shrugged out of his leather jacket and was removing his vest in his quarters when he heard footsteps on the deck above. Grabbing a cutlass, he started up the ladder to confront the intruder. Before he reached the top, he heard Emma softly calling his name.

Without taking time to return the weapon downstairs, he completed his ascent and emerged through the hatch. “Hello, Love,” he greeted.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the cutlass he was holding. “Planning on stabbing someone?”

He looked down at it, then back up at her. “A man must always be prepared when he is protecting his ship,” he explained. “What brings you here at this hour?”

She stepped forward boldly, pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and whispered, “You,” before kissing the holy hell out of him.

The cutlass hit the deck with a clatter as he wrapped his arms around her and eagerly reciprocated. When she finally took a breath, it was to utter, “Show me your quarters, Captain.”

He blinked in surprise, then an alluring smile crossed his face. “As you wish.”

After quickly descending the ladder, he stood below it to ensure Emma’s safety as she followed him down. She glanced around the shadowy hallway, lit only by two dim lanterns hanging on the wall.

“This way, milady,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door he left open in his haste.

She walked into his room, once again peering around the cabin. “So, this is your home, huh?”

“Aye, for more years than I care to admit.”

“You are pretty ancient,” she teased, winding her arms around his neck. “But hopefully not too ancient for what I have in mind.”

His brows rose on their own accord, even though he had already deduced her purpose for being there. Still, he didn’t want to assume anything, so he asked, “And just what do you have in mind, Swan?”

She kissed him chastely, then murmured against his lips, “I want to make love…to the man I love.”

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly. You won my heart, Killian…and I want to share every other part of me with you.”

He dove in for another kiss, then moved his lips down her throat as he hummed, “I love you, Emma.”

It had been many long years since he was with a woman, his mind more focused on finding the crocodile once Regina’s curse was cast. At this moment, he was glad he abstained all that time. It would make his first time with Emma all the more special.

He could feel the rising pressure against the zipper of his jeans as he continued licking and nibbling the soft skin below her ear. His hands pushed her red leather jacket off of her shoulders and she allowed her arms to slide out of it. Once it was in a heap on the floor, his hands moved to begin toying with the buttons of her blouse, while her hands went to work on his belt.

Their movements were purposeful, and soon more clothes were on the floor. Killian scanned down Emma’s body, now clad in only her bra and panties. “You are absolutely, bloody gorgeous, my love,” he rasped through a throat clogged with emotion.

“So are you,” she returned, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his bare abs. She had disposed of his shirt and belt, and unzipped his pants. Now, she pushed at the waistband, encouraging him to remove them. He accommodated her immediately, then pulled her to him for another round of passionate kisses. She gasped into his mouth when she felt his stiffening member pressing against her.

As his hands traced up her back, he encountered the band of her brassiere and froze momentarily.

“It unhooks,” she mumbled, then giggled. “You shouldn’t have any problem with hooks.”

Her giggles turned to moans when he proved her right and began squeezing her breasts as soon as they were free. Then his mouth moved to explore her nipples, first licking them, then gently tugging at them with his teeth.

It was his turn to moan when her hands slid down inside his boxers and began fondling his ass. He wrapped his arms around her and easily lifted her into his arms. As he carried her toward his bunk, her legs encircled him, her ankles crossing at the small of his back.

Gently lowering her to the mattress, he looked down at her, his breath catching when she locked eyes with him. The love he could see shining in them was unmistakeable. He removed his underwear, then slid hers down her legs. The next several highly pleasurable moments were spent exploring each other’s naked form with their hands, fingers and lips.

Killian was even more grateful to have both hands as he used them to stroke, tease and arouse the beautiful woman beneath him. She moaned as she writhed under his ministrations, widening her legs as he neared her most intimate place.

He took that as permission to slide his fingers through her sodden folds, his thumb finding her clit at the same time. “Killiannn,” she gasped.

“Tell me what you want, Love,” he requested, his breath hot against her left breast.

She didn’t answer right away and he could tell she was hesitant to voice her desires. Moving his mouth up her body, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid to tell me exactly how you want me to pleasure you, Emma.”

He felt her draw in a shaky breath. “Use your fingers to…get me ready.”

Nodding, he decided to probe a bit more. “Just my fingers?”

She hesitated again. “And…your mouth?”

“Aye, Love. I can do that.” His lips found hers as his fingers found her center, his tongue thrusting into her mouth while first one, then two fingers did the same down below. He paused his kisses to ask, “Can you take more?”

“Mmhmm,” she affirmed and was promptly filled with a third digit. He licked and kissed his way down her body, as she rode his fingers. Curling them inside her, seeking that spot, he simultaneously sucked hard on a nipple. She cried out and shuddered against him, her walls clamping tightly around his digits. He continued stroking her as he adjusted his position, then he wrapped his lips around her clit, using his tongue to toy with it.

“Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed, her thighs tightening around his head. His hands found her hips, holding her steady as he licked her slit to taste her arousal. His gaze slid up her body to see her fingers plucking at her nipples, her eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure.

The combination of what he was seeing, tasting and feeling made his cock almost painfully hard. He began to rub it against her calf and heard her mumble something. Pulling away from her a bit, he asked, “What did you say, Love?”

“I…I want you inside me.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. Quickly straddling her, he leaned down to kiss her, knowing she would taste herself on his tongue. As she let out a surprised gasp, he lined himself up and slowly began entering her.

After becoming a pirate, Killian accepted the fact that he had very little chance of getting to Heaven, but at this moment, he felt like he was there. Her sheath wrapped around him and drew him in until he was fully engulfed in her heat.

He rested his forehead on hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them. Opening his eyes, they connected with the sparkling jade of hers. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I love you, too.”

Pushing up to rest on his forearms, he began moving his hips languidly, sliding almost out, then back in again. Emma wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The pace quickened and sounds of slapping skin, moans, curses and panting breaths filled the air.

Killian felt the tell-tale tingle at the base of his spine, signifying his impending orgasm. Wanting to ensure Emma reached her peak first, he reached between them and rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit. The result was instantaneous. She cried out his name, tightening her legs around him and digging her fingers into his shoulders almost painfully.

He followed her over the edge, his body shuddering with his release. Moving his hands to grip her shapely buttocks, he rolled them over so she was resting on top of him. They lay without speaking, as their breathing returned to normal and their bodies cooled.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked quietly, the fingers of both hands moving lazily up and down her back. Gods, he was so happy he was able to use both hands.

“Yeah,” she answered simply.

“Your parents won’t wonder where you are?”

“I’m pretty sure they knew where I was going and the reason for it.”

“And your father didn’t want to come along and threaten to kill me?”

“Why would he want to kill his best friend?” she laughed, lifting her head to look into his face. Her fingers moved to brush some strands of hair away from his brows. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

She lay her head back down on his chest. “I love you, Killian,” she murmured into his skin.

“And I, you, Emma.”

After several more minutes, they finally moved to clean themselves up and Killian donned the flannel sleep pants he’d grown fond of while he was incarcerated. Emma stealthily snagged his shirt from the floor and slipped it on, earning a nod of approval and eyebrow wag from her pirate.

They settled into bed together and soon found a comfortable position. His arms held her snugly against his side, while her fingers toyed with the charms on his silver chain. “Goodnight, Killian,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Goodnight, Love. Sweet dreams.” His lips pressed against the crown of her head repeatedly. Within minutes, he heard her breathing even out and he knew she was asleep.

He remained awake for some time, thinking about everything that happened to bring him to this moment. The woman he held in his arms bested him not once, but twice. If anyone else had done that to the fearsome Captain Hook, it would have meant their death. Instead, Emma captured his heart and made him want to be a better man - one who was worthy of her love.

For dozens of decades, he thought getting his revenge on Rumplestiltskin was all that was left for him and that once he did, his life would be complete. However, attaining that revenge was only a footnote in his story now. Circumstances he never would have imagined brought him to this place that he now called home, where he had friends and was happier than he could remember being for a very, very long time.

Most importantly, he was in love with a brave, beautiful, fierce, passionate lass who, wonder of wonders, loved him in return. He would never understand what he did to deserve that privilege.

Tightening his arms around her sleeping form, he began drifting off himself, knowing that when he awakened in the morning, the first thing he would see would be Emma Swan, her green eyes shining with love for him.

*********

Thank you all very much for reading. I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate, and a great New Year, hopefully full of lots of new CS content!

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club" by: @phiralovesloki

This long one shot is such a joy to read!! Especially if you're a book lover and enjoy some fun commentary and banter about novels and their merits between your characters! @phiralovesloki does a brilliant job with that, bringing both Emma and Killian into a book club that neither really wanted to attend, grudgingly sparring about their reading preferences, and coming to really enjoy hearing the other's thoughts and having someone with whom to share their own. She also brilliantly choses and utilizes various other Storybrooke denizens to wonderful effect as the book club is getting off the ground (David, Mary Margaret, Belle, Ashley, etc.)

Definitely a fun one to discover (or revisit!)

"The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club" by: @phiralovesloki

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [1/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. "You owe it to yourself," Mary Margaret said. "Happy endings always start with hope."

--

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer for always giving me a cheer when i needed it (including--in B's case--occasionally getting random, context-free paragraphs dumped into her DMs)

--

one. 'when you leave, you just miss it'

The sun was shining.

Almost a week since they’d seen real daylight—maybe more, maybe less.  No one was sure.  Time, like light, did not work properly in Neverland.  That’s what Hook had said, and Neal had agreed, an uneasy peace between them; Regina grumbled and Gold snickered but it had been a week or a lifetime and the sun was shining and she had slept last night, for the first time in a week.

Or a lifetime.

She heard the wind rustling around her through the open portholes.  Tasted the salt on the air, sweet and slightly cool.  Emma sat up and the chill danced around her skin as the sheet fell.  She felt good; rested, refreshed.  Free.

Her clothes were were on the floor where she’d left them.  She slipped from the bunk and picked them up, one by one and hanging from her fingertips. Because time might not have been real in Neverland but everything definitely smelled like she’d been wearing it for a week.  When they got back to Storybrooke she wasn’t just going to wash the clothes.  She was going to burn them.  Just thinking about it made the power well up inside her.  It wasn’t anger or darkness or the unrelenting terror of the Dark Hollow.  It was something else—warm, gentle flames that tickled.

Or maybe she just really needed a shower.

God, a shower.

She dressed quickly and found her way above deck, stumbling over a dozen dozing Lost Boys and one wide-awake former fairy.  Neal and Wendy leaned up against the bulkhead, their legs sprawled out in front of them.  Wendy had curled herself against Neal like she wouldn’t let him go.  

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up.  The sail billowed, but the Shadow cast no shadow here.  Tink turned and spotted her.  The way her eyes lit up made Emma’s breath catch.  They were going home.

“We’re nearly there,” Tink said.  “I almost can’t believe it.  Where’s Hook?”

Emma shrugged.  “I thought he needed to be here.  Steering.”  Behind them, the giant wheel turned on its own.

“Magic,” Tink said.  “The ship, it has magic.  Not my kind—I’ve no idea how it works.”

“And I’ll never tell.”  His hair was mussed by the wind but his coat hung heavy over him.  Weighing him down.  The words were heavy, too, weighted with meaning—something in his eyes before he cleared his throat.  Then Captain Hook inclined his head and it was gone, replaced with twinkles like tiny blue gems in his eyes.  “Tinker Bell.”

“Hook.”  A speculative syllable as the fairy stared intently and he blushed.  Emma looked from one of them to the other until Hook’s eyes caught hers and held.  He raised his eyebrow, just the one.

Emma raised hers.  Both of them.

“Swan,” he said.

“Hook,” she said.

“Mom!”  Henry ran across the deck, leaving Regina behind in the companionway with a genuine smile on her face.  Neal’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of his son’s voice and he scrambled to his feet, catching Henry in his arms but barely slowing him before he angled back toward Emma.  She nearly fell over as she absorbed the fullness of his hug.  Her son’s arms around her, finally.

Six days.  Not even a week.  But her life had changed in less time before:  The time it took to steal a car, to open a locker.  Sixteen hours to give birth.  Ten hours on a beanstalk.

The kiss it took to break a curse.

A week was plenty of time for her world to turn itself upside down.  Again.

“The sun is fully up,” Hook said.  “We’ll be arriving shortly in Storybrooke.”  A fairy-tale land full of fairy-tale people encased in a magic shield that they were going to pierce with a magic boat piloted by a pirate and guided by a demon’s Shadow.  Hook spoke and the ship turned on a dime, the wheel spinning, the Shadow-filled sail briefly flashing white, and there it was.

The harbor.  The clock tower.  The neon sign of the B&B.

“Home,” Mary Margaret whispered, coming to stand next to Emma.

David rested his hand on her arm and Emma tensed.  His smile gentled and he moved, stepping back to pull Mary Margaret closer.  “Together.  Heroes, villains—pirates.”  Pride glowed briefly in his eyes.  “Just like you said.”

Heroes, villains, pirates.  Parents.

Storybrooke.

Home.

The rest of the fairy-tale folk rushed to the rails, hanging over the sides for a closer look at their heroes’ welcome.  A faint sound carried on the breeze—laughter.  Cheers.

They were in the water.  They were in the harbor.  The gangplank lowered.  Henry was practically trembling with excitement as he hurled himself onto the dock, zooming between his father and his grandparents and Granny and—and—and—

But it was Neal Emma was watching.  Hugging his father.  Hugging Belle.  Escorting Wendy.  No longer a Lost Boy but a found one.

“Home.  The place that when you leave, you just miss it.”  He’d told her that the night they’d met.  Her lifetime had been a series of moves from place to place to place and every time, she’d only known one thing for certain:  She wasn’t home.  Not yet.  She’d been seventeen and Neal Cassidy had kneeled in the dirt and picked the lock and when he turned the amusement park lights on and smiled at her, knowing and full of confidence, her entire world had shifted on its axis.

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact.  Or maybe it was a secret he was sharing.  With her.

Home.  Neal wrapped Wendy and her brothers in a group hug with an expression Emma had never seen before.  But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either.  

Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales.  The flame warmed inside her again, as if the idea of wanting—of knowing what she wanted—was its own kind of magic.  Maybe it was.

Possibilities.  Hope.

In her.  In the magic.  In this town.  It wasn’t a home—yet—but for the first time Emma felt like it could be.  If she let it.  If she wanted it.  If she chose it.

Henry turned back to her, waiting.  An impatient gesture.  She took one last long look around the decks of the ship.  Hook stood at the helm, tracing the scratch marks in the wood.

Home.

With a deep breath, Emma stepped onto the dock.

two. 'i quite fancy you'

The realization hit at approximately the same time Emma Swan hit the water, the waves enveloping her and dragging her down, though he didn’t think about it.  Not then.  Not in the midst of the magically-intensified storm and the maelstrom wrought by his own frustrations:  Baelfire’s death, his son missing, the Dark One on his ship and Prince-bloody-Charming up in arms and in Killian’s face, so certain it was he who was the captain here—an uncomfortable thought all on its own, and similarly ignored.

But then she’d hit the water and it was all hands on deck.

Nothing else mattered as they retrieved her from the deep and lowered her to the deck and waited.  Waited for her to breathe, to move, to cough out the water, her body wracked by the effort but alive.  The storm vanished as quickly as it appeared but the weight lingered.

Killian did not like to think about the last time he had seen a woman laid out before him on his ship.  About how it had ended.  So he ignored it.  Ignored it with the patience and practice of a man accustomed to counting time in centuries rather than minutes and it was easy enough.  In Neverland the only thing real was the here and the now; their horrific, indeterminate trek across the island was more than enough to occupy his mind.

Until it wasn’t.

He set himself up a good bit away from the others as they made their camp.  He refused to watch the undisturbed slumber of the Charmings.  Even Regina slept, but not Killian.  Never Killian, never on Neverland.  Whether it was better or worse to be alone and surrounded by the haunted cries of the Lost, Killian did not know.  He’d thought and hoped never to hear them again no matter how unnaturally prolonged his life might be.  But he knew this—it was too easy for Pan to grab on to a person in the netherworld of Neverland at night and it was darker now than Killian remembered it being, unless it was just the effect of the rum. 

He almost wished it was.

Either way, there wasn’t enough of the bloody stuff to soothe the ragged edges of his soul.

He’d said it as a joke.  Or a feint.  An instinctive push in their ongoing tug-of-war.  “I quite fancy you sometimes,” he’d said.  But here in the dark surrounded by the cries he had no choice but to admit to himself that he’d meant it.

Horrific thought.

Idly, he wondered if Tinker Bell was still here.  Their tactics for sleep--and mutual exhaustion--had always proved more then satisfactory in the past.  Pleasurable, even; some of the only good memories Killian had of this place.  Only that felt somehow…disloyal.  A betrayal to an idea that his heart was apparently already committed to.  Killian took another pull from the flask and reminded himself that villains didn’t get happy endings and if Captain Hook had been anything in his life, it was that.  

After all, if he had been a better man, perhaps Baelfire wouldn’t have left.

It was with that happy thought that the cacophony of cries reached its crescendo—midnight, then, or near enough on this cursed island where the night felt endless.  Perhaps it was endless, now.  The days seemed shorter—nonexistent—the darkness constant.  The island was changing.  Dying.  Killian knew only too well there was nothing Pan would not do to prevent that happening.  Every instinct told him that Henry was the answer Pan sought.

Killian had not been lying when he told Emma that on this island, he was not the villain.  Perhaps that was why he waited.  Waited to hear the whisper of movement and the moment she finally gave up.  When she finally got up.  He had never wondered if she might hear the cries.  It had been very nearly his first thought upon meeting her.  She’d had the Look and few knew it better than he.  Maybe Baelfire—Neal—had recognized it, too.

He could hear the muttered imprecations under her breath and was only gratified that she had sense enough to take the cutlass with her as she began to roam the surroundings of their camp.  And then he heard something else.

Not words.  A voice.  A voice that taunted him still, lurking on the edges of his nightmares.  Even worse, he knew what it meant.  To be approached by Pan was to have a quest assigned, a task given.  When Emma stumbled out of the woods clutching a scrap of parchment, he stood to meet her, already on alert.

Pan always did like his games.

three. 'you owe it to yourself'

The shower felt incredible.  One after Granny’s; one before bed; one when she woke up.  Part of her felt like she might never not be covered in dirt and sweat again.  Part of her just wanted the warmth and the solitude.  Even in a loft built for one and sleeping four, the shower was a one-person-at-a-time activity.

She hoped.

Exhausted but too restless to sleep, Emma had lain in her bed and stared at the exposed beams, counting the wood scratches and feeling it every time someone in the apartment breathed.  Henry’s little snores made her smile with every exhalation and though here Mary Margaret and David were only—breathing—it was hard not to think about the other things they could be doing in the bed they shared at the bottom of the ladder.

Ew.

Emma really needed to get her own place.

Henry would want to go back to spending nights at Regina’s again, anyway.  As he should.  She was his mother.

Emma couldn’t help but think of Regina at the Tree.  Regina with ‘no regrets’.  She wasn’t sure if she believed any of it, but she couldn’t argue with the result—all of them, still standing, at the end of something horrible.  Even if Emma thought Regina should have a few regrets—surely some of the murders had been unwarranted—maybe it was time to follow Regina’s example.  Leave the past behind and focus on what she had.

What would it be like, to live with no regrets?

A new beginning.

A steam cloud followed her as she opened the frosted glass sliding door and followed the sweet smell of coffee to the kitchen island—a little pot, in an honest-to-goodness tea cozy, left in the blessedly quiet loft.  Mary Margaret hadn’t done that in—she hadn’t done that since—

Before.

The texts had accumulated on her phone while she showered.  She recognized most, but not all, of the phone numbers—David, Mary Margaret, Henry, Ruby—and remembered suddenly that she didn’t know which one might be Neal’s.  Being presumed dead made that easy enough to excuse.

She was glad he wasn’t dead.

Emma sighed.  Maybe it would have been easier if she’d set a time, or maybe it just would have been funnier:  An hour to process Felix into the cells.  Another at the pawnshop to watch Pan sealed beneath the floor—a tiny box to hold so many nightmares, but both of her parents standing next to her in spite of the dreamshade.  Henry flanked by his mothers, his father, three of his grandparents.

Of course Neal had approached her—exactly down to the minute on the timer she had not set—cornering her at Granny’s.  The beer was flowing, the food was hot, the noise was crushing her skull.  Tick, tock.

“Emma, can we make some time to talk?”

She hadn’t even gotten her coat off, and it was weird to suddenly need it again after six days and a lifetime sweating in an otherworldly jungle.  She saw Hook at the bar with Tink, a glass mug of amber liquid in each of their hands as they toasted.  Mary Margaret and David pushed in behind and around her to head for a table.  Regina and Henry were tucked in together at a booth.  

Tick, tock.

She forced her attention back to Neal.  “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” she said.  “Unless—are you trying to ask me on a date?”

Yes.

Yes, he was and yes, she would make time—because they needed to know what would happen.  Emma had a few ideas and as Mary Margaret always said happy endings start with hope.  It was the look on Mary Margaret’s face as Neal settled himself back into his booth that had her worried.  The big eyes, the bright smile.  It was a look she wasn’t totally used to seeing on her friend’s face because it was such a Snow White look.

“You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret had said.

Tick, tock. 

A motherly look.  She wasn’t used to that yet, either.  Six days or a lifetime hadn’t quite given her enough time to digest the shift from best friend to parent and almost every minute since the curse had broken had been one unrelenting nightmare after another.   Ogres, giants, beanstalks.  Cora.  Hook.  Neal.  It didn’t help that even while Mary Margaret was urging her to take the chance—“You owe it to yourself”—Emma kept thinking about the chances Mary Margaret and David wanted to take.

Tick, tock.

They were home now, the three of them—four—five—six—or maybe eight—one big modern fairytale family—and that mattered, even if Mary Margaret had looked her in the eyes and promised that she wouldn’t be an orphan anymore and then decided that she would stay in Neverland forever if she had to.  The thin leather strap of the waterskin crossed over David’s shoulder didn’t feel like much against that, but it was everything.

The water.  From Hook.  And every time she’d turned Emma had seen Hook watching, his eyes tightening slightly every time David moved.  Like he was waiting for something.  Tick, tock.

Shaking herself, Emma finished her cup of coffee and hauled herself back up the ladder.  The curling iron felt comfortable in her hand; it was a relief to look in the mirror and see someone she recognized, from Before.  Her blue leather jacket because it was warmer, her favorite tank top layered underneath, and she was going to go to Granny’s and have a goddamn normal day.  Whatever that meant now—now that it wasn’t Before, but After.  After the curse.  After the Enchanted Forest.  After Neverland.  

After—everything.  

She wasn’t a tiny princess under a mobile of glass unicorns; none of them knew what to do with a goddamn adult with a past.  A history, a trauma, that was not part of their storybook fantasy, and more than a missed opportunity that they could recreate.  

She refused to just be that.  She was a mother, too.  A sheriff.  A Savior.  

An orphan.

If what they had was unique, to use Mary Margaret’s words from the Echo Cave, then they had to be able to make their own definitions.  Their own rules and wants and needs and hopes.  Their own story.  And what Emma wanted, more than anything, was to carve out her own space in this world—parents, children, magic, exes, and evil queens—and know that it was hers.  That she belonged.  Emma wanted to know that when Henry came for her he wasn’t just looking for her to break a curse.  He was bringing her home.

How did Snow White, of all people, not understand that?

She glanced at her phone, at the time and at the last text message.  Pulled on her shitkicker black boots and closed the door behind her.

She had a date to get to.

[kmomof4]

Absolutely LOVELY story!!!! LOVED the combining and then the twist on canon!!!!

Where The Heart Is, Chapter 5

This is the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed this story!

Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd

[princess-and-the-swan]

One-Shot Fic Rec: into the darkness

By herculexn | Rating: E

Emma abandons her plan to roofie Killian, and instead returns his memories of Camelot, on the condition that he cannot tell her family that he is a Dark One. Over the next few weeks, they fall into a new routine. Killian keeps up his cover with the heroes, while Emma plots their scheme.

This is smut. Dark one smut. Enough said.

Read it on AO3

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Trying Something New - a Captain Swan, Once Upon a Time fan fiction

Summary:

After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.

Read on fanfiction.net or AO3 or below.

Note: so Emma is using a lot of advanced magic in this chapter. It's for plot purposes, but she will face issues with doing so much magic. Please ignore the logistics, this is fanfiction after all. 

Chapter 1: Stuck

It wasn’t working. Her magic was back, but the stupid wand wasn’t working. 

“Do you think he lied to us?” Killian asked from where he was leaning against a table. He was back in his regular attire of his long black leather coat, leather pants, and black vest and shirt. 

Marian was still knocked out, but she wouldn’t remain that way forever. 

“I don’t know.” Emma huffed, frustrated, twirling in her prison dress. The least Rumplestiltskin could’ve done was return her jeans and leather jacket. 

Waving the wand around, she attempted once again to open the portal. She was tempted to summon the Dark One back and strangle him. Without the portal, they couldn’t return to their own time, and Emma wasn’t going to stay trapped in Rumplestiltskin’s vault for the next thirty years. “I don’t think he would’ve lied about this. As long as I can wield magic, I should be able to open the portal. So, why isn’t this working?” Frustration overwhelmed her. 

“There could be a number of reasons, love.” Killian said, though he wasn’t sure what could be the cause. 

Irritated and angry, Emma wildly waved the wand around, failing to notice a faint glow pass over Marian’s features. She gripped the wand tight enough it was surprising the stick didn't snap into two pieces. 

“Perhaps we should change tactics.” Killian suggested, worried at Emma's emotional state. 

Emma’s hands dropped to her side. “What do you mean?” Her tone was snappish, but it wasn't directed at him. Killian was trying to help; Emma knew she was the one failing. 

“It’s possible that the vault and all of the magical objects here could be interfering.” Killian theorized. “If we can escape, maybe the portal will work elsewhere?”

Though she knew hers and Killian’s knowledge of magic was limited, it was a good theory. It was worth a shot. “Okay, you pick her up, and I’ll try to teleport us somewhere.” 

Killian did as she asked, and once Marian was secured over his shoulder, Emma took his hand and closed her eyes. She'd never teleported herself or people before, but she remembered Regina's tutelage. 

She needed to pick a place she'd been before. 

Emma brought forth a picture in her mind. At first it was the trees of the Enchanted Forest, but she needed a destination in mind. If she just picked a random spot in the forest, it’s likely that something would go wrong. Instead, her mind viewed Lake Nostos. It would be filled with water and a siren at this point in time, but it was the only place other than the Jolly Roger or her parents castle that Emma was familiar with enough to see it. 

Feeling the pull of her magic, Emma released it. Feeling airy, like she was drifting away, Emma held tighter to the picture of Lake Nostos, keeping it to the front of her mind. Finally she felt solid, whole, and there was hard ground underneath her feet. Opening her eyes, she found that they were in the forest by the lake. “Come on, let’s go. The siren’s still around.” 

Killian nodded, turning to go, but as he did, Emma glanced back. 

In the water, not too far away, was an image of Killian, which startled Emma enough to pause. Why was she seeing him in the lake? 

A hand grabbed her and pulled her away. “Don’t know what you’re seeing, Swan, but we need to go.” There was urgency to Killian's tone, his eyes glancing at the lake, as he rushed them away. 

As they ran through the forest, hoping not to hear the siren, Emma couldn’t help but wonder why she saw him. Didn’t sirens show you what you wanted most? Your heart’s desire? Her heart desired returning home to her parents and Henry. She didn’t want Killian. Or, well, she did, but that was too complicated to even consider. When they returned to their time, Emma figured they could talk, but she didn’t know what she wanted between them. Not now when they had to figure out how to get home. 

It wasn’t as though his feelings were a secret. Hell, Zelena used his lo—feelings, his feelings— for her against him in order to take her magic. Emma knew that he wanted a relationship, a future with her, but she wasn’t sure her heart was ready. Her romantic history sucked. There was Neal, her married boyfriend in her early twenties, Graham, Walsh, and well, skips didn’t really count. She wasn’t meant to find love or happiness. Even for a man who changed for her and would follow her to the ends of the earth. 

“Want to try again?” Killian asked after a while, when they slowed down after being far enough away. Perhaps now that they were out of the vault, she'd have more success with the portal. 

Emma waved the wand and still failed to produce a portal. “Fuck.” After ten more minutes of trying, she flung the wand against a tree. It thwacked against the trunk before bouncing off onto the ground, rolling uselessly on the dirt. “We’re stuck here.”

“Well, what, we have a few years before the curse?” Killian asked. He picked up the wand and pocketed it. It might not work for Emma at the moment, but it might certainly come in handy down the road. 

“Nearly three.” Emma huffed. “My parents took some time before they met up again, then I think maybe the war with George started, and then they fought Regina a bit until she backed off to create the curse. That took like two years. Then there was nine months until me and the curse came along.”

“If we can’t get back to the future, we might have to wait it out.” Killian said. “We’d go somewhere away from your parents’ kingdom, stay under the radar, and then when the curse comes, well, we might have to get frozen with Cora to avoid being in Storybrooke with your other self.” 

“Three years is a long time to be away from my family.” Emma didn’t like the idea of being stuck here for so long. She knew she couldn’t interfere with her parents’ past anymore. Hell, she almost erased herself and Henry from existence. It would be hard not seeing Henry for so long. If they ended up waiting it out until time caught up, then Henry wouldn’t even realize she was ever gone. However, three years was a long time. Living whatever life in the past might very well change her into a person Henry wouldn’t recognize.

“Four.” Killian corrected. “If we’re stuck here, will need to ride out the first curse and Pan’s curse. The one that brought everyone back here while you and Henry went to New York.”

He was right of course and Emma silently scolded herself for forgetting that there was an extra year they’d have to wait out. So they wouldn’t go back to Storybrooke until Snow’s curse. Even then, they’d have to hide out until their past selves time traveled so that there wouldn't be two of them running around. “God time travel is confusing.” She groaned leaning against a tree as she rubbed her temples. “Okay, so what next?”

“Well, first, what do we need to do with her?” Killian asked, motioning to the still unconscious Marian. 

“There’s nothing we can do with her.” Emma admitted. “I mean, she was supposed to die, so her being alive changes things. She’ll want to find her husband and son, which will alter Robin’s past and Regina’s future with him.” Emma winced. That was another thing she was screwing up. While she and Regina weren't best friends, Emma didn't want to ruin her chance at happiness if it meant Regina would stay on their side and be a better mother to Henry. 

“Unless, you send her away?” Killian suggested, trying to figure out how best to keep the timeline intact. “It’s only a few years until the Curse, and if you send her far enough away, then it might just take that long for her to return.” 

That was a good point, but could they chance it? “What if she’s resourceful enough to get here sooner?” Emma asked, playing Devil's Advocate. “A mother trying to get to her son is a forced to be reckoned with, you know?”

“Aye.” One such mother was standing before him and Killian’s heart went out to her. It must be killing her that her magic was failing her when she needed to get back to Henry. While it wouldn’t be a four year separation from Henry’s perspective, it would be from Emma’s and she already missed out on so much of Henry’s life. However, back to the matter at hand, there was too much at stake to just let Marian go off on her own. If they woke her up, could they convince her of the truth? Of their being from the future and her death in the original timeline? Of course, she might just label them as insane and run off on her own. 

A groan from the woman startled Emma and Killian. So much for waking her themselves. The universe wasn't being kind to them at the moment. Maybe that was a price for time traveling, no matter how unintentional it was on their part. 

“Shit.” Emma cursed, not ready to face Marian when they still had to figure out what to do with her. They needed to figure out a plan, quickly. 

Marian rubbed her head, eyes opening, taking in her surroundings. Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Brown eyes stared up at them with wariness. “Who are you?” She looked between them, confusion spreading across her features. “Better question, who am I?”

Emma and Killian shared surprised looks. “I didn’t hit her that hard.” Killian muttered so only Emma heard him. 

“Um, you don’t remember?” Emma asked, watching Marian carefully. How could she not remember? There was no way Killian knocking her out messed with her mind. 

“Remember what?” Marian asked. Her brows furrowed. 

“We met on the road.” Killian supplied. “You were headed to Marawick Harbor, in the Kingdom of Stahlsburg." The lie came easily enough. After all, they needed to come up with a story for the locals; they'd just include Marian now. "We ran into each other and camped out, but our horses have been stolen it seems. You offered to take first watch, so we assumed you were attacked from behind while we slept.”

Emma almost believed the story, he was that convincing. That was a good skill to have since they'd need to come up with more lies to live in this time. 

Marian tried to stand, and both Killian and Emma stepped forward to help her up. 

“Take it easy.” Emma said. “We don’t know how hard you were hit.” She glanced at Killian again, and he was clearly at a loss. 

“Oh, well, that certainly explains why my head is pounding.” Marian smiled tightly, though her eyes still held doubt about them. “So if we’re headed to the same place, how far do we have left to travel?”

“It’s a good few weeks by horse.” Killian said. He met Emma’s eyes and she knew what he was going to suggest. 

In fact, Emma preferred getting out of Regina’s territory as soon as possible. Besides, if Marian freaked out or decided not to keep Emma’s magic a secret, Emma could try and call upon her magic and erase Marian's memory. It seemed there wasn't anything left for her to remember anyway, but what caused Marian's memory loss?

“Can you keep a secret?” Killian asked, his tone protective. 

Marian narrowed her eyes. “What kind of secret?” She stepped away from them. Understandable. She woke up with two strangers and no memory. The fact that she gave them a chance to explain was more grace than most would give. 

“I have light magic.” Emma said. “I can teleport us to town, but I’d rather not broadcast that to everyone. I hope we can trust you with this secret.”

Sensing that Emma was earnest, Marian nodded. “I suppose I can trust you. Who are you again?” Really though, Marian wasn't sure if she could trust them, but her instincts told her that the couple was safe. They didn't seem nefarious and without her memories, they were all she had to rely on to find out who she was, even if they just met her. 

Emma didn’t think giving their real names was a good idea. Thinking quickly, she made something up. “Emily Jones.” Emily was close enough to Emma for her to respond to it. Surely Jones was common enough in this land as it was in hers. Maybe…hopefully. “My husband is…Colin.” It was the first name she could think of which sounded close enough to Killian. Or well, it had the hard C sound. 

Killian looked proud of her quick response. “Aye. You told us your name was Maria, but not sure if you have a surname or not.” 

Marian swayed a bit on her feet. Her head swam unsteadying her. 

“Perhaps you should rest and have some water.” Killian suggested, reaching out to steady Marian. “I know Emily needs some time to prepare her magic.”

“That’s a good idea.” Marian agreed, as her head continued to pound. Just how hard was she hit? Who did it? Why couldn't she remember anything? Even her name, Maria, didn't sound quite right. If that was the name she gave them, then why wouldn't she give her real name?

Emma grabbed Killian’s waterskin and handed it to Marian. “Here you go.” 

As Marian settled against a tree, Emma pulled Killian away. “Okay, there’s no way she’d just forget everything from hitting her head.”

“Perhaps when we were in the Dark One’s vault something affected her.” Killian suggested, his brows drawn together. “We were surrounded by a number of dark objects, and we don't know what any of them were capable of doing." 

“Maybe.” Emma said. She shook her head; Marian's memory loss would be something that they'd tackle later on. Though it was an unexpected blessing since they now didn't have to convince her not to go off in search of Robin and Roland. Emma felt guilty for lying, but they couldn't risk more changes to the timeline. Her focus shifted back to Killian. “Tell me about Marawick Harbor.”

“It’s in Prince Eric’s kingdom.” Killian said. “It’s a port town which fell into Cora’s protection bubble when the curse hit. I docked my ship there a few times over the centuries. It’s large enough to blend in and find work.” In fact, it was a perfect hide out. Populated enough to blend in and far from Regina's clutches, and still close enough to be affected by the Curse. 

“I can’t teleport to a place I’ve never been.” Emma explained. “Regina said that teleporting sort of requires knowing your destination. That’s why I brought us to Lake Nostos, because I’ve been here and seen it before.” Even if it changed a bit in the coming decades. “How can I teleport us now?”

Killian’s brow furrowed adorably as he tried to come up with a solution.

Stop it. Emma berated herself. He’s not adorable. If they were going to be reliant on each other, she needed to squash her feelings down so they could focus on surviving. 

“What if I describe the place to you?” He said after awhile. “Would that help paint a picture you can use?” 

It wasn’t exactly something she tried before. Hell, she barely learned any magic before, but her magic might very well be a key to living in this realm and in this time. “It can’t hurt to try. Go ahead and describe it to me.” She closed her eyes to concentrate. 

He began describing the town as best as he could remember, particularly the docks. As the sun was setting, Killian described the docks more at night, telling Emma about darkened corners, likely because they’d need to appear somewhere hidden as not to raise suspicion. He described the sea and how it sparkled under moonlight; the sound of the water lapping against docks ships; the noise of nearby taverns and the main street.

As Emma listened to his words, she could see it in her mind. Killian’s words painted a detailed, tangible picture. He certainly was quite the storyteller. Before long, Emma pictured a dark spot behind crates on a dock. “I think I’m ready.” She kept her eyes closed, feeling around for his arm. Emma didn't dare open her eyes for fear of losing the picture. 

Killian waved Marian over. “She’s ready.”

When she heard Marian step next to them, Emma spoke. “Hold onto me as tight as you can.” When she felt them grasp her arms, Emma reached deep inside her for her magic. Feeling it coming alive under her skin, Emma held onto Killian tighter. I want to go to Marawick Harbor. She repeated that over and over, releasing her magic. She felt her body dissipate, tightening her hold on her passengers as she felt herself come apart, floating in air as though she were nothingness, before feeling her body came back to herself. Would she ever get used to the sensations that came with teleporting? 

Opening her eyes, she found herself, Killian, and Marian in a darkened corner of docks, behind crates. She could hear the ocean to her left. A breeze brought about the briny, salty scent of the waters. 

Killian peeked out from the crates, looking around to see where they were, before quickly ducking back down. He turned to her with a huge, proud, amazed smiled. “You did it, love. You brought us to Marawick. Bloody brilliant.”

At Marian’s confused look, Emma added. “I’ve never been here before. Usually I have to teleport to a place I’ve seen.” Still, warmth bloomed in her chest at Killian’s praise. I’ve yet to see you fail. His words from Neverland still haunted her. Hell, they’d never leave her. Without fail, Killian always, always, believed in her, even when, especially when, no one else would. Shaking away her affection, Emma returned her attention to Marian.

“Well, then, congratulations on a job well done.” Marian smiled warmly. She wondered if Emma's magic could help with her memories. Could she restore them? 

“Come on, we’ll need to find an inn.” Killian stood, helping both women up. 

“Do I have money?” Marian asked. Then she realized the clothes she and Emma were wearing. “Are these normal clothes?” Surely they couldn't be? 

Emma grimaced. No, they weren’t and it was very possible someone would recognize that they were wearing prison gowns and Killian was dressed as a pirate. “No, these were old sleeping gowns I had, but you’re right, we’ll draw some strange looks.” 

“Could you use your magic to clean us up?” Marian asked. 

Emma considered it, uncertain. Her body felt fatigued from teleporting, but Marian trusted them now and if they stole clothes, that could only make the woman leery of them. They needed to keep Marian close in order to keep an eye on her. Looks like it was time to test the limits of her magic. “Maybe.” She glanced at Killian. “I’ve done small things before, maybe I should test it out on Colin first?”

“Go ahead, love.” Killian spread his arms, ever the willing subject. Looking her over, Killian was concerned. Emma practiced her magic in the future, but nothing near this level. While he believed in her, he didn't want Emma to push herself too much. 

Closing her eyes, Emma figured the easiest thing to do was change one item at a time. She pictured black leather pants as brown and waved her hand. Keeping her eyes closed, she saw his black shirt change to white and his black leather vest changed to deep blue cotton. Finally, his black leather coat, which she was loathed to change but was the most obvious indication of his pirate ways, changed to a brown leather riding coat. 

Her eyes opened to find Killian in the entirely new outfit. Even in his new vest and shirt, the top buttons were still undone, showing off the top of his thick chest hair. She probably could’ve buttoned him up when she changed his clothes, but that didn’t seem right. Plus, she’d never admit it to him, but she actually liked seeing his chest hair and longed to touch it. Stop it, Emma. Keep it in your pants. 

His eyes shown proudly at her accomplishment. “You certainly keep getting better at using magic, love.” 

Emma smiled, and boosted with confidence now that she successfully changed Killian's clothes, she turned to Marian and repeated the process.Marian’s outfit turned from prison chic to one of brown skirts, a green top, and a brown corset. 

When Marian was done, Emma used her magic on herself and her prison dress changed to blue skirts, white top, brown corset, and blue cape. 

Killian tried not to think about how she made them match, or the implications of that. Don't be daft, Jones. There isn't a deeper meaning to that.

“I think we’re ready.” Emma said, subtly steadying herself against a crate as a wave of exhaustion hit her. Maybe she pushed herself too far. 

“Almost.” Killian said. “I’ll need to check and see if we have any coin left. It’s a bit dark, love, might need a light.” Killian gently gripped Emma around her waist, noticing her fatigue. He stepped them away from Marian, walking far enough for Marian to not really hear them, but not so far she’d get suspicious. 

Emma s a reassuring smile Marian’s way. At Killian’s side, Emma held out her hand and a flickering flame appeared in her palm and when she saw it was too small, she willed it to the size of a golf ball. 

"Are you okay, love?" He asked. "You've used a lot of magic in a short time span."

Emma nodded. "I'll be fine. The sooner we count your coins, the sooner we can find an inn."

Killian didn't hesitate, knowing that Emma needed to rest, so he rooted around in his pockets, filled with coins. They counted enough to last them a while and divided the loot between them; Killian insisted on Emma having some money on her in case something happened and they ended up separated. Once they both pocketed the money, he spoke. “I have an idea.” He whispered.

“Oh?” Emma asked, her expression curious. 

“Well, Marian already believes us to be married and hasn’t noticed the lack of rings.” Killian said. “I assure you others will. People are old fashioned around here.” He grimaced at his next words. “If we show up without wedding rings, even if we say we’re married…”

“People will get ideas.” Emma finished, understanding. “I’ll get a reputation.”

“It’s even likely that some establishments won’t accept us as customers.” Killian added, uncomfortably. “Without proof and all that.” 

Emma knew he was telling her this in order to familiarize her with this new world she was stuck in. She had no idea what it was like here and all he wanted to do was protect her, even her honor. It was sweet and he showed more care of her wellbeing than anyone else had before. But could she pretend to be his wife? Sure, he told Marian that to cover for them, but now they’d have to actually live with that lie. They were stuck pretending to be together. She never thought she’d be the marrying type after Neal completely destroyed her. Even with Walsh, before he revealed what he was, she was going to say no. Fairytales and True Love were never in the cards for her. 

When she looked at Killian, a part of her believed in that again, but it scared the shit out of her. It was partly why she wanted to run back to New York. New York was easier; no magic, no complicated family dynamics, no villains, and no Killian to give her hope for a better future. Now, she was stuck in an unfamiliar world, completely reliant on his lead, and even now, he wanted her to have all of the facts before her. He didn’t want her to go into any situation blind. Gratitude nearly overwhelmed her. 

He stared at her with patience and a bit of concern, likely worried about how she’d react. His shoulders were tense, almost bracing himself for a bad reaction from her. 

Taking a breath, Emma pushed away her terror at the idea of a relationship with him. Especially when they both wanted it so much. If anything, her past proved that she would only ruin whatever this precious connection between her and Killian was; it was inevitable that it would happen. No, she had to think about it logically. 

Logically, reasonably, this was an old fashioned port town. They’d likely have to stay here in order to be close to Marian, and figure out her amnesia, godsend though it was for the time being. They had to start off on the right foot with these people they’d be living around for the next couple of years. “Okay, so do you have a ring on you?” Emma asked.

Killian moved some things around in another pocket of his until he finally found a feminine ring that might just fit. It was a gold band with an oval cut ruby surrounded by a circle of small diamonds. He held it for her inspection, careful to hide what they were doing from Marian’s view, though she seemed more distracted by activity further down the docks. 

It truly was a beautiful ring, and Emma could almost imagine another time and another life with a true proposal on his lips. “That’ll work.” She said, careful to keep her tone neutral. She held her left hand out to him. 

Realizing that she wanted him to put the ring on her, Killian swallowed before maneuvering the ring in his hand. 

As he slipped the ring on her finger, Emma felt her breath leave her. It was a perfect fit. Hell, it looked like it belonged on her finger. She wondered if he thought the same as he ran a gentle thumb over the ring as he held her hand. Looking at his hand with its many rings, Emma spoke. “You need a wedding band too.” 

“Don’t have one on me.” Killian shrugged. He’d probably have to steal one tomorrow when a jeweler was open. There wasn’t enough in his pockets to cover a ring and he’d rather save what he had for emergencies. 

Emma looked at the silver and ruby ring currently occupying a place on his ring finger. It was too big and gaudy to be a wedding ring. In fact, all of his jewelry screamed pirate as much as his wardrobe. They were going to have to discuss that. Emma tapped at the on his finger. “Are you attached to this one?” 

“Not particularly.” It wasn’t a lie but it was a half-truth. 

Emma decided to ignore that for now and concentrated on the ring. It needed to be smaller, gold to match hers, the ruby could stay. She began to picture what she wanted in her mind’s eye until it was clear. With a wave of her hand, the ring changed from silver to gold with the ruby shrunk into a smaller oval inlaid in the band. On either side of the ruby rested a small diamond. It looked like a wedding band now. 

Emma removed his other rings from his fingers. “Too pirate-y.” She smirked.

Killian didn’t protest. He shook himself, swallowing, trying not to read too much into how she made their new wedding bands match just as she had matched their clothing. It definitely wasn't a big deal and it meant nothing. “There’s another problem.” He couldn’t guarantee that his crew never docked here in the coming years. He couldn’t remember. It was too dangerous for his own face to become a familiar sight around these parts. It was probably too dangerous for Emma to have her face as well. If Rumplestiltskin found them missing from his vault, he could come looking for them, knowing what they looked like. Emma’s magic seemed more than capable after all. 

“What?” Emma’s eyes held a little bit of panic at his tone. 

“If we stay here, there’s a chance that one day my past self will appear.” Killian explained. “If people get to know us, then they’ll be wondering if I have an identical twin. There’s also Rumplestiltskin to consider. He knows what we look like and we did escape his vault.” 

“You think he might not take the potion to forget the future?” Emma asked. 

“He might, but we have to be cautious.” Killian said. “If you can glamour us and we use aliases, then all the better. Who knows we might end up running into your parents again or someone else.”

Good point. If she glamoured them, then it was much easier to fly under the radar. But she didn’t want them to look at each other and see strangers. Not when all they had was each other to rely on. There had to be a way to glamour them so that others wouldn’t see them, but they’d see each other. That’s what Rumplestiltskin had done for them for the ball. Surely she could do it for them as well. Of course, now Marian saw their faces, so she'd have to adjust it where strangers saw other people but they and Marian still saw the real faces. That also Emma couldn’t drastically change their looks as Marian would see one set of faces and everyone else another set. 

“Okay.” Emma said, though the exhaustion was getting to her. How did Regina use magic so much and not get tired? Was it that the more magic a person used the more they could tolerate the drain? Maybe she could find a teacher here in the past. She'd need to learn more about magic anyway if they were already relying on it for so much little things. “I’ll try to change our appearances to others, but we’ll still look the same to each other and Marian. If she sees something different, she’ll be suspicious and we’ll lose any trust we have from her.”

Hearing the nervous, hesitance in her voice, Killian leaned towards her, gripping her left hand in his right. “You can do this, Emma. Look at all you’ve accomplished today. This is just one more success awaiting you.”

Her eyelashes fluttered at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Was her face warm as well? “Yeah.” She nodded. She closed her eyes again, picturing a new face for Killian. People would still see blue eyes, but slightly lighter hair. A thicker beard instead of trimmed scruff. He’d also have a bit of an offset nose from being broken a time or two. Couldn’t have him look too handsome after all. Ignoring that particular voice in her head, which told her exactly why she didn’t want him so handsome, Emma waved her hand and opened her eyes to see Killian just as he was before. “Did it work?” Her head began to feel light. She wasn't sure how much more she could do. 

Her eyes glanced back towards Marian. 

“We might need a mirror to see.” Killian suggested. 

Taking a deep breath, hoping her magic would still be reliable, Emma conjured a hand mirror and handed it over. She watched Marian as Killian observed his new appearance, knowing they were taking entirely too long to just count some coins. 

Killian took in his new reflection. He was pretty average looking and certainly not as devilishly handsome as he was in reality. At least he wasn’t overly plain, but his new appearance wouldn’t even get a glance from a bar-wench. Still, he wondered if Emma toned down his handsome facade on purpose. Was it because she wanted to avoid garnering attention or did she make him average looking so that women wouldn’t flirt with him? Fool. She probably did it so you won’t get attention. We need to lay low after all. “Looks good.” He returned the mirror to her and watched her work on her own appearance. She glowed briefly but was still his Emma. 

Emma looked at her own reflection. Her eyes were still green, but her face was rounder, more of a heart shape that gave her new facade a sweet innocence about her. Her bright blonde hair was now darker blonde, much closer to her father’s hair. Her nose was more of a button one as well. She looked adorable but far from sexy, which was good, because that would keep attention off of her. A wave of exhaustion hit her again. They really needed to find somewhere to sleep.

Killian quickly replaced his hook with his wooden hand before they returned to Marian. "We'll have plenty of money for an inn for a few days at least. Since you lost your money, Marian, I insist on paying for a room for you." Killian told Marian, keeping his arm around Emma's waist. They bushed her too far as she looked ready to drop at any moment. 

"Wonderful." Marian said. "Are you sure about paying for me? I'm sure I can manage on my own."

"No, no, we are happy to help." Emma insisted. "I feel like what happened to you is our fault. We were asleep when you were attacked. We owe it to you to look after you."

Marian wasn't certain about that, but she wasn't going to turn down their help. Vowing to pay them back later, somehow, Marian started making her way down the docks towards town. 

Killian leaned in close to Emma. “Well Mrs. Jones, ready for our next adventure?” 

Drained due to her magic, Emma leaned on him for support, ignoring how hearing her new title made her heart beat wildly. “Lead the way, Mr. Jones.” 

[wildemaven]

because you matter | jack abbot

summary - this takes place a year prior to Chasing Stillness, during the aftermath of PittFest pairing - jack abbot x ofc!alix miller, rn word content- 2986 content warning - 18+ blog; jack’s POV, lots of medical inaccuracies because I don’t have time for medical school, angst, blood, somewhat canon divergent, PittFest shooting, mentions of wounds and gunshots, jack in his thoughts and maybe realizing feelings, Alix :39, lighter skin tone, has an a good amount of tattoos covering her body, has shorter hair that’s long enough to be pulled back, wearing a tank top and shorts:, mention of alcohol/drunkness/hangover, established friendship, slow burn, no use of y/n, use of ‘you’, please let me know if I failed to mention something a/n : the way I planned for this to be just a little blip of a flashback and some how it’s pushing almost 3k words. Guess I got carried away but really wanted to set the tone of Jack’s POV to pair with Chasing Stillness and then have everything in place for the next installment which jumps back to the present immediately following CS. I’m hoping I did him some sort of justice in writing this. BIG thank you to @alikelyst0ry for continuing to listen and talk me through this— I heart you!! Ok, time to post and run!! Previous | Next | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Jack’s not sure why he called you first. Scratch that— he does, he just can’t quite explain it. 

It was instinct— pure reflex. Zero hesitation. His thumb hitting your name the second he threw the truck in drive.

Call it a hunch or call it years of making snap decisions under the weight of an ingrained oath that had Jack tearing down the road toward the hospital. Instinctively knowing Robby would be requesting all hands on deck at any moment. 

In the back of his mind, he knew the urgency wasn’t only about the scene unfolding on the other side of the city— it was also about reaching you. And whether or not that same charge of criticality was surging through your veins. 

Straight to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Alix. Sorry I missed your call. Tragic, I know. Leave a message.” Your voice echoes through the truck’s speakers, cheerful and maddeningly casual.

“Shit!” He muttered, slamming his palm against the wheel, taking the last turn harder than he should’ve, while the wail of sirens vibrated through the air.

The scanner had lit up just after 5:30. One second he was finishing yard work, leaves disposed of in the green waste bin, lawn trimmed to his liking, sweat sticking to his back as the sun finally dipped behind the house. The next— everything shifting into unknown bedlam. 

He'd been looking forward to the break. Get a start on some projects he’d been wanting to start before the end of the year. A few days to recharge and relax— to a little bit of peace.

Peace wasn’t in the cards today.

“Multiple victims. Shots fired. PittFest grounds. Officers on scene. Casualties unknown.”

Jack’s stomach dropped as the second dispatch even came through. 

Pulling his truck into his usual spot and throwing it in park, he decided to send you a text:

Jack: Call me when you get this. I’m just getting to the hospital. Looks bad. Get in touch with me when you can. 

Before his mind could spiral into worst-case scenarios, his boots were on the ground and his go-bag packed with essentials slung over his shoulder. Jack pauses halfway through the short walk from the parking garage to the main building, eyes lifting to the familiar railing— the one that so often bears the weight of his early morning musing. He braces himself for whatever waits behind the ED doors.

As Jack reaches the Pitt, his stomach knots up as the scene hits him. It’s a blur of chaos— bright lights glaring off white walls and tiled floor, sterile disarray, the entire emergency room cracked wide like a fresh wound. Robby’s at the forefront of it all with his face twisted with raw emotion, giving orders like his life depends on it— a dense cloud of stress trailing behind him. 

Nurses converged. Gurneys locked into place, ready for impact.

The cacophony of it all did little to drown out his last conversation with you. All he could hear was your voice, light and hopeful, as you talked about your day off and what you’d do with it.

I’m off tomorrow. Finally. A few of us are hitting PittFest for funnel cake and sunburns. Maybe a little hangover, if I’m feeling lucky. 

Alix.

Jack’s fingers fumbled unlocking his phone to get to your number. One ring. Two. Voicemail. End call. He slides his phone into his pocket, clinging to the hope that you’d walk through those doors under your own power, not be wheeled in.

“Brother, I am so glad to see you” Robby says, relieved as ever, pulling Jack in for a hug. 

“Heard it on the police scanner. How many we expecting?” Jack keeps his tone even and controlled, like the soldier he is. He scans the ER, eyes sharp for that familiar blurry mess of brown hair and tattooed arms, always busy—  on the off chance you might have bailed on the festivities early and came when you got the news.

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t sound good.”

Taking Robby’s lead, Jack jumps into action. Doing his best to compartmentalize his worry, shelving it next to the many other things that afflict him relentlessly, focusing on what he can control at this moment as he helps guide giant black disaster bins filled with supplies into the Behavioral Health Room. 

“Right side. Left side.” Jack says as he wheels the black cart in place. “I’m going to need you to grab the folding tables from the facilities to organize all this stuff. Go— Thank you!”

The nurses head off to carry out his orders, leaving Jack alone with the task of getting things stationed and ready. He reaches into his pocket for his knife, pulling his phone out along with it. Swiping up, he hits the call button— not really expecting an answer. But when your voicemail comes on again, he sighs and leaves a message anyway.

“It’s Abbot. Umm— Haven't heard from you yet. Just checking that things are okay.” Jack sighs, pausing as he glances around the small room, absentmindedly turning the blade in his hand as an announcement booms through the emergency floor— Code Triage, Emergency Department now. “It looks like things are going to get hectic here in a bit. Just let me know when you’re safe, alright?”

He ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket. Determined to not let his deliberate facade slip away as the knife slices cleanly through the plastic tie, granting access to the pharmacy and IV supplies. 

In the quiet that follows, he selfishly wishes you were across the room mirroring his purposeful pace— already knowing where his head was, already moving like you always do.

The air became thick with anticipation. 

A muted pressure settling into every corner. 

Around the Hub, attendings, residents, interns, and nurses stood in quiet readiness— PPE isolation gowns secured, gloved hands resting at their sides and trauma carts fully stocked. 

The overhead lights buzz faintly, a phone ringing somewhere down the hall, a gurney wheel clicks in slow, uneven bursts. It’s the calm before the storm— every face around the room marked by focus, tension and the unspoken hope that when it begins, they’ll be ready. 

Robby and Jack stand at the center of it all, bracing them for the first wave.

It’s not long before the incoming patients are packed like sardines in every available room and usable open space. Triaged based on vitals, severity of injuries and overall viability, then color catalogued and moved to the appropriate zone to be treated accordingly. 

Red. Pink. Yellow. Green. Black and White. 

They kept coming as Jack navigated through his red patients needing immediate attention. Panicked and bloodied with their PittFest passes still clinging to them— stark reminders that their day was supposed to be filled with excitement and memories. One after another. 

The emergency room bore the resemblance of a mobile army surgical hospital that had operated under his command. No time to rely on charting, electronic medical records or the convenience of a patient board. Treatment and procedures documented by hand on wrist charts attached to patients' wrists. Time was limited, and every second could mean the difference between life and death. 

Jack moved on muscle memory. His hands worked steadily and voice calm, but beneath the surface Jack was burning through adrenaline. It was a rare instance for the hospital to be at full capacity, which only heightened the desire for precise performance, but he thrives in these circumstances. 

Working alongside Mohan, placing IO infusions and chest tubes with precision, while refusing to let showdowns and egos pull him under. 

Thready pulses beneath his fingertips, collapsed lungs begging for air, slinging Foley catheters to subdue nicked carotids— one after another. He forced himself to stay present, to shut out the noise and stabilize, just move— long enough to get them to the OR or ICU then hope any and all split decisions were enough.

The lull, though temporary, was almost disorienting. 

Machines quieted. Footsteps softened. The air no longer crackling with immediate crisis.

With the last of the critical patients having been stabilized or moved upstairs, Jack found himself in an unexpected pocket of repose leaning his forearm against the edge of the nurses’ station, the adrenaline that had kept him sharp for hours now ebbing into a dull, bone-deep fatigue

It wasn’t rest exactly, finding it too unexpected to recognize it at first. The stillness too sharp, too sudden— but it was enough. A pause. A breath. A chance to feel the weight of what the day had taken, to really feel the ache in his shoulders.

He reached for a coffee someone had abandoned hours ago. Sniffed it and grimaced. Still, he took a sip. Cold, but it would do. 

A voice broke over the intercom, barely audible. Not urgent. Not for him.

He let himself enjoy this illusion of stagnation. 

Poached coffee in hand, Jack closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath as if it might anchor him. One. Two. Three. Then releasing it quietly, like he was trying not to wake something inside him.

A flicker of you crossed his mind— Alix. Just enough to stir something beneath the surface. 

Jack grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling up the text thread shared between the two of you. His last message sat in the little bubble at the bottom of the screen. Delivered. Not read. 

It had been hours since he last checked his phone or tried calling. Still nothing. Not a word. No hint of where you were or if you were okay. 

His thumb drags slowly down the screen, revealing the previous message he’d received two days ago from you. 

It’s a photo. Both of you in 12-hour worn scrubs after a long shift. Your eyes are somehow the only bright and captivating part of the photo. They’re crinkled up around the edges due to the way your cheeks are cradling— the picture taken mid-laugh. 

He almost regrets his choice of affection as he analyzes the image further. Arms crossed securely in front of him. Stiff and stoic. No warning or prompting from Dana before she decided to freeze that moment forever. 

You’re standing behind him, peeking out over the broad line of his shoulders. Your arms draped him, fingers tugging the corners of his mouth in an upward fashion. The act of holding that position and Dana frantically trying to capture it candidly had you laughing so hard tears were rolling down your face. 

There was something deeply comforting in the unmistakable joy of your laugh— rich, unguarded and effortlessly you. It was a sound he realized he could never grow tired of hearing.

The photo was taken months ago, but you sent it out of the blue not even 48 hours ago. Along with a caption that said: You should do this more often! 

Jack is unaware of the smile that he’s wearing as his eyes oscillate between your words and the photo. 

“You should tell her!” Robby exclaims, his voice laced with a knowing that needs no explanation. He gives Jack a friendly smack on the shoulder, one that promises a talk over beers, and walks off towards the ambulance bay without bothering to elaborate.

“W-what?!” Jack’s head nearly spins, tracking Robby’s exit with pinched confusion. 

“Tell her!” Robby calls over his shoulder just before disappearing from view. “Pretty sure she’d be into it!”

He glances down at the photo again, his attention fixed entirely on you. His thoughts drift, Robby’s voice ringing in his ears, chasing that sweet ache of a hope he barely dares to name— that you might be into it… into him.

“Jack!” Robby’s voice swells, sharp and sudden— shattering the haze of Jack’s thoughts and dragging him back to the hub of the emergency department where shouting emerges from the ambulance entrance doors. 

It takes a minute for Jack to realize what exactly is unfolding in front of him. 

There you are on the gurney. 

Alix. 

Not lying down, but straddling a teenage girl’s chest doing compressions. Your face is pale, drawn tight with unrelenting focus. Jack can see the tremble in your arms and the raw determination in your eyes. Your hair has fallen loose from its clip, strands plastered to your forehead with a mixture of sweat and blood. 

Blood. 

Blood was everywhere. 

Jack’s heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

“Seventeen-year-old female. GWS left chest. She was barely responsive when we loaded her in the truck. Carotid was weak. Became unresponsive en route. Been administering chest compressions for— Um… Five… no, ten minutes maybe. I don’t know.” 

The words fall from your mouth between staggered breaths, your body shuddering with every measured compression against the young woman’s chest.

Jack stands frozen, the scene shaking something loose in him. 

“Miller, we’re going to take over now.” Robby squeezes your arm gently, attempting to get your attention. “Alix— I need you to let us take over.”

You nod, “Yeah— y-yeah, okay.” 

Robby lifts you to your feet, his grip steady as he guides you to the side. Jack watches from across the room as you stand there shoulders heaving and eyes locked on the team taking over where you left off. 

You look like you’re still in the fight, even though your hands have let go they still hover out in front of you, slightly trembling. The weight of it all pressing down on you. The agonizing feeling of giving everything and still having to step back. 

Jack watches as you rush towards the nearest wall, some sort of resolve snapping you back from your reflection, you grab a pair of gloves and scan the trauma bay— already locking back into motion. 

Before you could disappear from his sight, Jack reaches for you, causing a startled gasp to rip from your throat. 

“Easy— easy, it’s me. It’s just me.” Jack says softly, his hands on your shoulders, grounding you the best he can. 

The moment your eyes find him, he sees it— how something in you softens, just a little. The panic loosens its hold and you let out a shaky breath, like your body is finally remembering how to breathe.

Jack’s hand slides up the curve of your neck without much thought— like a natural response. One he wasn’t going to put much thought into at the moment, so he pushed the thought aside. Your safety being his priority. 

“I’m okay.” 

You’ve barely finished your reassurance when he sees it— feels it. More closely now. Almost silky to the touch. 

A deep crimson hue. 

His eyes begin to track over you.

Blood down the front of your white tank top and denim shorts, soaking the fabrics with its complex essence. The tattoos on your arms and legs, once shades of black and grey, now obscured in streaks of red. 

“Jesus—“ Jack breathes. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His mind clicks into gear, calling on every moment he’s spent keeping people alive— years of training and triage taking over.

Assess. Locate. Control bleed. 

His hands were already moving. Scanning your limbs, searching gently but urgently for the source. Brushing aside fabric and blood with the practiced earnestness of someone who’s done this too many times— only this time, it’s you.

“Where are you hit?” His asks, his tone tense and thick. 

“I’m not— I’m not shot. It’s not mine.” Your voice cracks just a little. You grip his forearms, poised and insistent. “It’s Leah’s.”

Jack paused. Staring at you, still holding onto you as if you would disappear if he let go, not quite believing it until he saw the steadiness in your eyes. Not fine— but functioning. Survival mode.

You pulled in a breath. 

“I’d already left the scene before the shots started. Jess had way too much to drink— plus with the heat, she was out of it. We were taking her home.”

Your voice catches. The tears falling fast, unrelenting as they resaturate the bits of dried blood smeared across your cheeks. 

“But then I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave people behind— to- to die. It was by chance that I found Jake and Leah. But I don’t think it was enough. I should have done more—  for her. S-she’s not going to make it.”

Jack swallowed. “You did good. You did so fucking good.” His hands dropped slowly, like they didn’t want to.

You gave him a weary half-nod, not entirely convinced. 

It hit him then, intense and sudden. Jack cared more than he’d let himself admit. Not just as a colleague. Not as a friend. Something deeper. 

But he couldn’t say it— not now, in this place. Not with blood drying on your arms and grief still lingering in the air. If he said the wrong thing, if what he felt wasn’t reciprocated, he might lose you entirely.

He wanted to say something—I was scared for you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I care more than I should—but all that came out was:

“You need a break.”

You half-smiled at him, tired but grateful. “I’ll sit when it’s over.”

“It is over.” His voice was softer now, just for you. “At least the worst part. You’re running on adrenaline, but that’s going to wear off. The shock’ll hit soon and you to need to be ready for it.”

He paused, head tilted and gaze on you unfaltering. 

“Take a minute. Get cleaned up, grab some scrubs, and crash in one of the on-call rooms— just rest. When things settle down, I’ll take you home.”

“Why?” You murmured, brows raised with curiosity as to why he would afford such an offer. 

Jack didn’t answer right away. 

He just held your eyes for a second too long. Then he shook his head slightly, giving you a ghost of a smile and said:

“Because you matter.”

[playerappreciationweek]

Hello CS 2019 fandom. We’re back.

Player Appreciation Week 2025 will be held on March 24-30. The theme for this years’ prompts is Alternate Universes! Here they are below:

Text version and guidelines under the cut:

Day 1, March 24: Magic

Day 2, March 25: Soulmates

Day 3, March 26: Parallel Universe

Day 4, March 27: Sci-Fi

Day 5, March 28: Apocalyptic

Day 6, March 29: Royalty

Day 7, March 30: Time Travel

Alternate 1: Domestic

Alternate 2: Canon Divergence

Alternate 3: Role Swap

The alternative prompts can be used in place of any day. Fill as many or as few prompts as you’d like or have time for. The prompts themselves can be used as loosely or literally as you’d like. Prompts can be filled in any number of ways, including but not limited to: Fic, Art, Edits, Memes, Poetry, Analysis/Essay, Video, etc. If it's fannish and you created it, it counts!

If you cannot post your work on the day that it is meant for, you are welcome to post it any time between March 24-30 and we will have a grace period for one week after the event ends if anyone needs a little extra time to submit. As far as actual posting goes, create a post on your own tumblr blog and@playerappreciationweek , as well as tag #playerappreciationweek2025. If you have a fic, we encourage you to post it to Ao3 if possible, we’ll be making a collection for works there. You can then make a tumblr post with the link to your work. We will reblog the posts for everyone to find.

Leading up to the event, if you would like to send a short teaser for your work, please submit it as an ask to this blog with the prompt and day it is for. Once it gets closer to posting week, we’lll post it as an advertisement to help us all get hyped!

Rules:

1. This event is Player-centric, so anything created should feature Player as a prominent character in some way.

2. The event is Gen only, that is, no romantic relationships. Background relationships of Player’s or Carmen’s parents are fine, but the focus of your work should be on Player and his platonic/familial relationships. Please note that this means soulmate relationships for day 2’s prompt should be platonic or ambiguous, not romantic.

3. Have your work properly tagged both here on Tumblr and on Ao3. If there are more mature themes, hide your work under the cut on tumblr if applicable, and tag for any known trigger warnings/darker themes, such as Major Character Death, suicide ideation, or panic attacks.

4. No AI please.

We won’t reblog works that don’t fit these criteria.

We also have a discord server available for brainstorming and beta help! It’s open all year if you enjoy brainstorming CS 2019 ideas in general. Please hop over into @rueitae DMs to ask for an invitation. The server follows the same guidelines as the event.

If you have any clarifying questions, please don’t hesitate to send us an ask.

Looking forward to creating with you all!