#And it must be emphasized that we are talking about a fairytale a child told themself

[nobodysystem]

(guy extremely posting this shit at 2:15 pm voice) among the many many problems with our childhood we are somewhat upset by the framing that abuse is something that is premeditated and calculated and Abusers know what they’re doing always mostly, as always, because if this framework is real there is no word for what happened to us

[chibalein]

Kalafina Live Report - World Heritage Special  Live @ Nikkô PART 2/2

Now it’s finally about the songs :D

Click HERE for Part 1.

The concert began when the lights were darkened and the musicians took their seats, shortly testing their instruments, namely Sakurada at the piano and the Konno Hitoshi Strings… at the strings. Sakurada started by playing a short solo and Kalafina entered the stage in their super pretty white dresses (especially Hikaru looked great!). At this point, I want to mention (which of course you already know) that all songs were in acoustic version. With no big surprise, Kalafina started the special live with “storia”, which sounds quite different without drums and so on. I have heard this song so often by now that it doesn’t really impress me anymore, but this version really got it right and the Cello – aaah, so cool. Those who read my Live Report of the 9+ONE concert in Kitakyushu know that I found the acoustics in the hall very strange sometimes and often the girls drowned out each other, with Wakana often being uncomfortably loud – this wasn’t the case AT ALL in Nikkô. Maybe because of the trees that carried the echo better than an enclosed room, but the acoustics/the sound were great! You could hear each girl and the instruments perfectly without them interfering with each other. This fact made this concert especially memorable, in my opinion.

Anyway, “storia” was a beautiful introduction, while “Mirai” made me feel… well, the feeling you feel when you hear “Mirai”. The stage was illuminated in purple light and gave it a mysterious touch, quite the contrast to the song which is rather bright but not any less disappointing. But I admit, in acoustic version this song gets cooler and the Strings were again killing it (I apologize, but I might use this phrase more often from now on – because these dudes REALLY killed it with their super string power). Kalafina moved around a bit, going from one side of the stage to another, with happy faces and creating a happy mood. Especially Keiko felt the groove and swung around during the instrumental parts. Since there were no upbeat songs played this time, the crowd sat still the whole time, so I felt quite cold at this point.

MC #1 included the traditional introduction of Kalafina. They talked about how this was their first special concert of this kind and their first time in Nikkô/Tochigi prefecture in general. They didn’t fail to emphasize again and again how special the atmosphere and how beautiful sceneries that they have seen were. 

Kalafina continued with “fairytale”, with an absolute stunning beginning by the strings. It is very hard for me to describe the way they played, so I am sorry for that (but no words can convey the actual awesomeness). Well, you know the acoustic version from the Winter Acoustic Album – it was like this, but somehow better. Wakana was simply amazing! She sang perfectly (the whole time actually) and this song in this environment! They chose this one for this very reason, as they said earlier themselves. Keiko’s part on the other hand, was a perfect contrast to Wakana’s. Keiko was deep and emotional, with the Kajiurago bridge in the middle being simply amazing. Hikaru’s “sayonara” was short and cute, but I wish she would/could have done it like in the Red Moon Live back then… Again, the scenery. They illuminated the pagoda and the trees in the background again, adding to the mysterious atmosphere created by “fairytale”. In the final instrumental part, Kalafina moved slowly around, looking for invisible fairies.

The next song was “Manten” – I haven’t heard this song in such a long time that I had actually trouble to recognize it immediately. It was a whole different mood than before, much more dramatic, as the girls were illuminated from behind. Keiko killed her parts while the quartet did their best too. Best thing: the fog machine lol

Kalafina continued with “symphonia”, while being illuminated in red and orange. They really had some fun on stage, another great performance and interestingly different without the drums. Also at this point, it was getting colder and colder.

During MC #2, Wakana talked again about their first time here at Tôshôgû, with its beautiful nature and how people must have lived and felt here 400 years ago. I admit that I did not understand everything during their MCs, as they were talking rather quickly, almost rushing and using some bullshit keigo (Japanese polite form).

Now comes the highlight of the whole concert, at least for me: “Hyakka Ryouran”. OH MY FUCKING GOD. I can’t possibly explain this piece of acoustic gloriousness. During the instrumental beginning the whole stage was covered in deep red (well, no surprise), but when Keiko started it became so much sadder! Dear god, take away the e-guitar and drums from that song and you have a melancholic ballad. Keiko was just perfect. Then the lights changed to blue, with the chorus being suddenly much more dramatic than anime-like as in the original version. But now – the part that gave me literal goosebumps – Wakana’s kajiurago bridge. This goddamn bridge. It’s already beautiful in the original, it’s mysterious and adds well to the mood of the song. In this acoustic version, coming from a loud, rather fast and dramatic chorus, suddenly the singing pace became much slower and Wakana sang in such a sad, emotional way! Just this sudden transition from fast to slow was amazing, but Wakana made me feel actual pain. And then Hikaru – BOOM! She almost exploded with her part, singing louder and stronger compared to Wakana and the music gained speed and drama again, surrounded by red light again. It was a perfect harmony and seriously, this acoustic version of “Hyakka Ryouran” is much better than the original! Please God, make them sing it in the Acoustic Tour, too!

From this awesomeness, it went on with “Tombo”. Again, Keiko fooled me by saying “bla bla we want to sing another song from our most recent single................. Tombo”. Not “Kantankatan”. In fact, they got my hopes so high only to crush them AGAIN, I had to create a meme about my feelings at that very moment.

Seriously, what does a fan have to do hear this “Kantankatan” bitch live? JUST WHAT?!

ANYWAY. “Tombo” came with no suprise though, as it is a perfect song for an acoustic concert. Still, coming from “Hyakka Ryouran”, it felt quite strange, but during its performance the only things that were illuminated were the five-story pagoda in the background and the girls. Very very beautiful (you kind of get the picture from the photos of the news articles and the Kalafina blog posts). Well, and the performance was very nice.

Next song on the setlist was “far on the water”. As predicted, Kalafina would go with their “Rekishi Hiwa Historia” songs and the later “Into the World” wasn’t a surprise either. After rather sad songs, it was nice to have more fun and happiness on stage again. The girls were swinging and moving slowly, often looking past the audience into the future. Now, as I said, it was getting colder and colder and at this point, it was fucking freezing. I was shivering, but was too focused on the concert to use the damn kairo. Here I openly felt envious of all the rich bastards who bought the Kalablanket - it looked so comfy and warm T_T

During MC #3, Hikaru emphazised this cold weather more than clearly. She started rubbing her arms and legs and told us to do the same, making us laugh. I felt so sorry for them, because they didn’t really move during the concert and in those thin dresses, it must have been worse for them than for the audience. However, this provided us with the probably cutest WaKei moment in Kalafina history. Keiko ran to Wakana and hugged her strongly and long, like a child its mother that doesn’t want to be left in kindergarden, to warm herself. THEY WERE SO CUTE!!! And I could literally smell what almost everyone was thinking at this moment: “Let go of Wakana, Keiko. Let go and hug me”.

For the next block, Hikaru told us that they wanted to sing songs that convey a strong wills and desires. So the next one was “sandpiper”. SANDPIPER!!! FUCKING SAN--2§$%AIOSJKDNDFBP??DGJXGFFG!! I actually gasped (quite loudly xD), because I couldn’t believe it and I was like “fucking yes yes YES!”. I love “sandpiper” and wanted to hear it live for so long now, but certainly never expected it. I actually thought they forgot about this song lol This version was certainly dramatic, with a very dominant Cello, which only added to the drama, sadness and melancholy. Hikaru’s expressions were on point as ever. During the instrumental bridge, the surrounding trees were brightly illuminated while Kalafina were looking at them, simply beautiful. Wakana’s small part during the stanzas was not as strong as in the original (in the “After Eden” Live she is almost screaming, as you know), she was softer and quieter, giving Hikaru and Keiko the chance to really shine in their parts. The very last notes were played by the Piano and Cello only, boy this dudes killed it.

The following song was quite the surprise for me, as “Magia” wasn’t exactly a song I’d expect during an acoustic concert. I was like “What? Magia? Is that Magia?”. Which is why it was very strange to listen to, because it suddenly sounded… happier? Nicer? It’s very hard to describe xD When the chorus started, it gained its usual fierceness and strength again and the staff played a lot with the spotlights. I found it a bit sad though, that the girls did not move on stage at all. Hikaru made it up with her voice nevertheless, as she was singing very strongly and loudly, also more clipped, emphasizing every syllable. However, she appeared to have trouble with the “negai”s, as they sounded a bit forced and “out of breath”. However, during the second (or was it the last one?) chorus, I am 98% sure that either Keiko or Hikaru actually got the lyrics wrong! The last line of the second chorus is “kokoro ni furikazasu negai”, while for the last chorus it’s “inochi wo tsukuru no wa negai”. What (I think) happened is that either Keiko or Hikari mixed up “kokoro” and “inochi”, because in that short moment you could hear that it was not the same word being sung. Like I said, I am not completely sure (would love to hear from someone else who was there, whether it happened or not), but if so, then I guess even professionals like Kalafina aren’t safe from lyrics mix-up, right? It wasn’t a bad thing though. What I noticed too, was the missing of the “yeah hey hey” part at the beginning, middle and end.

From “Magia” it continued with “Gogatsu no Mahou”, certainly a song that makes a very nice acoustic version. At this point, I need to critizise Kalafina (yes, it wouldn’t be an original Chiba report if there wasn’t some needless nitpicking). I love “Gogatsu no Mahou”, loved it in “far on the water”, loved it during the 9+ONE concert, so that’s not the point – but dear Kalafina or whoever is responsible for choosing setlists: you chose “Gogatsu no Mahou” OVER “Kugatsu”? I mean, we had the end of September (it was vanishing!!) and the moon was barely visible due to the trees! Even the damn lyrics fit perfectly into the setting and you go with “Gogatsu no Mahou” instead?!

However. Wakana was beautiful as always in that song, while Keiko was dancing again slowly between the musicians during the instrumental parts (almost hippie-like, especially in that dress xD). Maybe I got it wrong, but I felt this song to be faster than usual? At least sometimes.

The Cello and Piano would introduce the next song, “Yume no Daichi” in a very deep way, which again led to not even recognize the song in the beginning. As usual, great performance, great harmony, great shivering.

MC #4 was mainly about Keiko saying again how special this day is for them, followed by the band introduction. Then the audience was asked “Is everyone alright?”, because it was so cold. Everyone laughed, but my feet were totally numb, so NO KEIKO I WASN’T ALRIGHT! Before the concert, the girls were guided around Tôshôgû (see Kalafina blog) and got some energy out of it, as they wanted to experience and cherish (their own) history? Something along this lines.

Well, we were already coming to an end and Kalafina wanted to sing a strong song as the “final” one: “Into the World”, of course. Wakana was very strong here and their harmony was again spotless. Keiko actually moved her arms and body a lot, while the very last line was a bit off-key for my sensitive ears. They traditionally fake-ended the event. While we waited for them to return, I honestly thought “Just get your drink and return, IT’S COLD AND YOU KNOW IT! COME ON, LADIES, GO GO GO!”. It was really cold <_<

For the Encore, Keiko said herself that they will hurry know, as everyone needs to return and catch the train, too. Well, Nikkô isn’t exactly a traffic junction, with the JR train for Utsunomiya (where the Shinkansen is) only going once an hour, so basically everyone needed to return via this very connection, unless they came here with car. Tôshôgû isn’t near JR station, so even an extra shuttle bus was prepared, as the normal busses were not operating anymore, either.

So they sang the last song, “Yasashii Uta”, having all the nice people and places they have met and seen during this occasion in mind. I admit, I never listen to that song, though I don’t particularly dislike it, so I was like “Eh, ok? Great”. For the final act, the pagoda and all the trees behind, left and right of the stage were brightly illuminated (this is the part where probably all the photos for the news coverage were taken, as you could hear the clicking of the cameras quite loudly XD). It was an amazing experience, with the starry sky and this particular song. The atmosphere was cheerful and Kalafina succeeded to convey happy emotions. Keiko hit those high notes like a pro, and it made a great final performance. At the end, they took a bow, waved and thanked everyone, hurrying from one side to another, shouting “Hurry, hurry!”. Keiko and Wakana left the stage, Hikaru slowly followed, waving (so cute xD). Then everyone proceeded to take photos of the stage, as the background was still illuminated and left the area, towards the shuttle busses and towards home.

And that’s it, that was the special commemoration concert in Nikkô. Here are some final thoughts:

1. Unlike during the 9+ONE concert, Kalafina had a perfect harmony with some song surprises, the musicians did a fantastic job in arranging rather upbeat songs into beautiful acoustic versions and conveying this awesomeness at such an impressive set. It was my first acoustic concert of Kalafina, but still I say it was one of their best concerts in general. However, it was very short (it only lasted about 1 hour and 15 minutes), I wish it had been longer (since it wasn’t cheap to get there, either).

2. I wish they would have interacted with the fans a bit more. They had a time limit, but they also made this quite obvious, as they seemed to rush through the whole thing.

3. I love how they sung without any technical help, it terms of pre-recorded parts mixed into the live singing, as it is the case during the normal concerts. So, all the kajiurago bridges were sung by them and arranged accordingly and it made the songs so much more beautiful.

4. NO KANTANKATAN!!! GAAARGH!!

5. NO HIKARI FURU!! They did all these illuminations and stuff! I mean, IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES! GAAARGH!

6. Here’s a list with all the songs I would have loved to hear as acoustic version instead of “Mirai”: “Kugatsu”, “Usumurasaki” (they could have done so much with the lighting too T_T), “Oblivious”, “Red Moon”, “Seventh Heaven”, “Kimi ga Hikari ni Kaeteyuku”, or any other song than “Mirai”. They really HAVE to do at least one shitty song at each concert. [/bitchy complaint mode off]

Thank you for reading my long report, I hope you liked it! If you find any mistakes regarding the content, have anything to add or questions, feel free to comment! (Any grammar mistakes you can keep as usual). My next Kalafina Live Report will be about the Acoustic Tour concert in Zama in November :)

[swanisms]

when you last left me my blood was in a jar | (1/1)

and you kept it on your mantlepiece

She must be doing something wrong that her son thinks the best way to go about proving his fairytale identity is to steal a sword. She must be doing something wrong to indulge this.

Given everything that Storybrooke and this storybook has thrown her way, it must be wrong that Killian being Captain Hook isn’t the worst option.

notes: love it when i’m just scrolling my dash, minding my own business, and a silly prompt shows up and my brain fires in the completely wrong direction where “MY KID SHOPLIFTED FROM YOUR STORE AND I MARCHED HER BACK HERE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU AU” becomes nearly 6k of a s1 cursed hook au. anyways, glad that i apparently still know how to put words on a page in something resembling a story, hope you enjoy!

also on ao3

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the sword?”

“It’s not a sword,” Henry grumbles. There’s no masking the disappointment of a ten year old child, and Henry’s mastered the pout. Emma’s not falling for it today. There’s letting him join her for a cup of hot cocoa at the diner when he’s already late for getting...to Regina. But letting him pocket a -

“What is it then?” Emma asks.

Henry simply says, “A replica of Excalibur.”

“The Knights of the Round Table that hard up for money? Franchising a magic sword?”

Henry shakes his head, in that way he does where he sees her sarcasm as something to power through rather than acknowledge. He’s remarkably good at that, too, because when he replies, “No. Emma, you were supposed to read the book,” she actually feels guilty.

“Yeah...yeah, I did. Refresh me though?”

Henry sees her for a liar, liar pants on fire, but he’s mature enough not to say it and Emma’s immature enough to near smile when she looks up at the telephone wire above them.

“You know Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, right?” Emma nods. She saw the movie. “Everyone knows that...but after he pulled out Excalibur, he realized that he couldn’t use it.” He hushes her next question with a look, so Emma decides to simply listen. “It wasn’t that it was too heavy or that he was a bad swordsman. It just didn’t work for him. Sure, it made everyone believe that Camelot would finally become great again, but it wasn’t magic. It didn’t feel like anything but a normal sword in his hands. He know for certain that this sword had superpowers, and he couldn’t understand why it felt so powerless. He was obsessed with trying to find a way to unlock its power. So, he barely paid attention to being a king and ruling a kingdom, and Guinevere...she was lonely.”

Emma bites at her lip. Infidelity isn’t exactly PG, and she wonders what else she didn’t read in this book. What else her kid is way too knowledgeable of. It isn’t like she wants to be the one to talk to him about the birds and the bees – in all likelihood, that will never be an option and she doesn’t even know if she wants it to be one, not really sure of anything anymore. Still, she doesn’t think its best that he learn about sex through a book of fairytales. If Harlequin writers can’t get it right when erotica is their freaking job, she shudders at how this book might tell it.

Henry elbows her, and once he has her attention, he continues, “And Lancelot, he loved his friends. Arthur was his best friend, and Guinevere was his favourite person in the entire world. He wanted to help them, and when Guinevere used this magic gauntlet to find Arthur’s heart’s desire, she and Lancelot set out to find it and bring it back to him.”

“Oh.”

She really wasn’t expecting that, but fairytales, right. Lonely people trying to reconnect with their significant others rather than find someone else is the dream.

“They thought it’d be fast, but the journey took them across the whole of Camelot. They spent weeks travelling from town to town. They got to know all these people. They saw the way they lived. Some people struggled and others did pretty well, and they were like ‘When we get home, we’re totally going to do all these things to make it better.’ It took them forever really, and suddenly it was Guinevere’s birthday. Arthur promised her that when he became king, the whole of Camelot would be covered in Middlemist flowers to celebrate it. When she didn’t see any, she told Lancelot it was a silly promise that children make, but he said, that it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be kept, and he took her through the woods until they came upon a field full of them. It was beautiful, and that’s when Guinevere realized why Excalibur wasn’t working for Arthur. Excalibur couldn’t make Camelot a true kingdom. It isn’t a magic sword that just fixes everything. It’s magical because it’s a promise to work together to make things better. Arthur didn’t keep that promise because he was too obsessed with finding its magic.”

Quickly, Henry added, “And of course she and Lancelot kissed, but they said that was it, and both went home to Arthur to tell him this. About Excalibur, not the kiss.”

Emma finally interjects, amused by Henry’s obvious discomfort, “I take it that didn’t work.”

“No, Arthur was so angry that they just left, and he wouldn’t listen to them. He didn’t believe that they’d done this for him. He just thought that they were trying to undermine him. He yelled at Lancelot for being in love with Guinevere and he tried to kill his best friend! And he tried to control Guinevere with magic! He was so crazy. They stopped him, but when everyone found out, they were heartbroken. They thought that Merlin was a liar and that Camelot would always be terrible, but with Lancelot’s help, Guinevere gathered them and told them what she’d learned about Excalibur. She lifted the sword to try and make them see and when she did, its shape changed and it became this sword that she could actually use without breaking her arm. She unlocked its magic, and she saved Camelot.”

Emma nods, “So Guinevere’s the one true king? But then shouldn’t she have been the one supposed to pull the sword from the stone?”

“No!” Henry denies vehemently - Don’t you get it? - Emma very much doesn’t so she lets him explain, “Merlin said Arthur would pull the sword from the stone and become king, but he never said he would stay king. He never said that he’d be a good king.”

Emma gets it now, and she says so.

“Arthur sucks.”

“He’s the worst,” Henry agrees.

“Worse than the Evil Queen?” Emma asks - and not because there’s that petty part of her that wants to hear Henry disparage Regina, but because there’s that big part of her that, despite everything she’s seen,  wants to believe that Regina isn’t this person and that she didn’t consign her son to this. She wants to believe that Regina was better before, she can be better, and Emma was right to send him away to have a family she could never give him.

She never wanted him to be as broken as her.

Henry frowns deeply, looking down at the replica sword.

“No.”

Her heart breaks, but that’s normal. Disney got it wrong, leaving Arthur and marrying Lancelot was the best decision Guinevere ever made, Excalibur looks like a needle, and with every story he reads from that book, all Henry does is prove that fairytales are bullshit. Here he is, trying to convince her that all these stories are true, but who wants to believe that these characters lives are just as awful as theirs? That their happy endings could be taken away just like that; one moment you’re dreaming of that happily ever after with your one true love and the next -

You’re letting your son go because that kind of love was never meant for you to have.

Henry prods Emma out of her thoughts, elbowing her as he says, “So, I have to give it back?”

And he drives her into other thoughts that are just as comforting. She looks down at him and his barely hidden smile. No thief should ever look so happy about having to return to the scene of the crime. Emma doesn’t want her suspicions confirmed, but she has no choice.

“Give it back to who exactly?”

Emma doesn’t need to be good at seeing through people to see that Henry was looking forward to this reveal.

“Captain Hook.”

Emma groans, and snatching the weapon out of Henry’s hand - truly, the little backstabber dragging her back to the man she’s made it explicitly clear that she’s only too happy to avoid. Forever. Like trapped in Neverland forever.

“Mr. Jones,” Emma emphasizes as Henry leads the way to his shop, “is not someone you should be stealing from.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to steal from anyone,” Henry points out.

Emma scrunches up in annoyance, and says firmly, “Some people are more forgiving. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“He likes me,” Henry says, and sneakily, even though her kid is not sneaky, he adds, “He likes you.”

“He does not,” Emma says. “He likes messing with me.”

“I think he just wants to be your friend,” Henry says.

The innocence of youth, to not see the redness in her face as anything other than annoyance. Killian Jones does not want to be her friend. He wants the benefits of friendship. In both those terms. Getting in good with the Sheriff is only common sense with criminal elements, and getting in good with her? He’s made it quite clear that it would benefit the both of them.

She really would like to deny that last point, but it’s been a frustrating few months and running around from one insane predicament to the next does a lot, but not nearly enough.

And really, those little moments that she’s been trying to avoid do way too much. She casts her eyes to her son’s determined pace towards Killian’s shop, the little backstabber -

“Let’s just get his sword back to him.”

Henry turns back to her with a big grin.

“Sure!”

Killian’s shop comes up all too fast, and okay, maybe fast is a good thing. Fast means getting this over with. Still, she sighs watching Henry wrench open the door so hard that it makes the entrance bell chime loud enough that there’s no way Killian wouldn’t hear it.

Following Henry inside, she catches sight of Killian immediately as he steps out from a dark corner of the shop. His eyes find hers, and he lights up, no other way to put it - except maybe that he does that ‘I’m dark and dangerous and I really want to be your friend’ swagger towards her.

She’s glad Henry steps between them, if only because it steals his interested gaze, and Emma doesn’t have to pointedly stare at his neck to keep him from using her line of sight against her. Also because she doesn’t want to have to fight herself to stare at his neck when his collarbones are in view.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he directs at Henry, but his eyes flicker up to Emma at the last bit.

Subtlety isn’t a skill of ten year old boys or thirty year old men. Who’d’ve thought?

“Henry decided to pull the sword from the stone,” she says, lifting the replica in sight. “We both decided that it was a good idea to put it back.”

Killian nods, kneeling to Henry’s height to say, “Swordsmanship is an art that one doesn’t just pick up in day. You don’t start with the blade. That, lad, is an excellent way to lose a hand.”

Emma closes her eyes, tilting her head to the sky in a silent plea to the ceiling to fall in. Not on any of them, but just enough that they can call Leroy in here to make sure that she won’t have to endure this longer than necessary.

“Is that how you lost yours?” Henry asks excitedly.

Killian grins. “You’re a clever lad.” He lifts his gaze to Emma as he says, “You truly take after your mother.”

Henry turns to look at her as well, grinning in that way that makes Emma believe, and says simply, surely, absolutely certainly, “I know.”

“But,” he adds, drawing out the word, “I have to go meet my -” He furrows his brow, scrunching his face in thought before finishing, “Other mom now.” He pouts guiltily. “I’m already in trouble. I shouldn’t be late.”

Running over to Emma, he briefly wraps her in a tight hug and says, “We’ll continue the operation tomorrow. You can tell me all about what you find.”

It takes Emma a beat, enough time for Henry to swing open the door and run out the shop, for her to realize what he’s referring to.

He wants her to prove that Killian is Captain Hook.

Oh boy, she’s going to have to disappoint. She turns to follow him out, but Killian calls out to her, “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

He offers his hand and for a brief, insane moment, Emma thinks that he’s referring to her. She has all the words of protest at the tip of her tongue when he nods towards her hand and she realizes she’s still holding the sword.

“Right,” she says, hoping beyond hope that the quaver in her voice is all in her head and not being catalogued in his list of ‘Reactions Emma Swan Has Had to Me That Imply She Actually Does Like Me.’

Swiftly, she places the sword hilt-side up in his hand. Her fingers brush his palm for a fraction of a second, but she looks at him at that exact moment and doesn’t miss the quirk of a smile, the passing of heat in that light touch - the flare of heat in her belly, that traitor.

Ignoring her body being an asshole, she says, “Thanks for, you know,” She shrugs at his bewildered response, “Not pressing charges against my kid.”

“I know how corruption runs rampant in law enforcement. I doubt anything would come of it,” Killian teases.

It well and truly misses the mark. Having spent time working with both the NYPD and BPD, and her brief encounters with other police forces when she’s caught her jumpers across state lines, Emma knows how true that is.

Killian notices her stiffen; he doesn’t miss much. Emma hates it, especially when his expression softens, apologetic in his understanding of her.

“I would never do such a thing. I’m not a cruel man,” he says quietly.

Emma catches how it’s something like a lie, something like he doesn’t believe his own words even though he wants to.

She knows that feeling.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to acknowledge it when he adds, “And I would never fault him for wanting to indulge in a little piracy.”

Emma shakes her head, a small disbelieving smile taking her lips at his smirk, and can’t resist replying, “It is thievery.”

“Pirates and thieves, one and the same.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we are standing on land, and don’t hit me with any sea of molten lava deep beneath the surface. It’s thievery.”

“I’m not certain why you’re insisting on labelling your son a criminal,” Killian says with a too amused grin.

She steps towards him, and he turns, taking the sword towards the counter, so she follows him because a turned back does not mean he’s won this.

“You’re the one calling him a pirate,” Emma says.

Whispers “fuck,” because she’s whining. Jesus, she’s whining and she’s letting this get too far. Maybe he has won.

“Fuck.”

Sword placed on the counter, Killian turns to face her again and she rocks back on her heels unsteadily, followed him much closer than she meant to.

“Actually, he’s the one calling me one.”

Emma frowns, argument gone as she’s reminded of Henry’s intention in bringing her here: to discover the truth for herself. Killian’s truth.

She looks past him, gaze tracking over his shop - and that, it sticks, ill-fitting in her head. This shop doesn’t feel like his. The thought is stupid, really, but it feels like he’s tried to fit himself into the space of someone else. Someone that he doesn’t particularly like, given the state of the shop.

She noticed that first time she came here, demanding to know why he had Kathryn and David’s windmill in his shop, and he’d shrugged like it wasn’t anything important. He’d just picked it up. It was there, and then he let it go. Something so important was nothing more than a thing passing through his life when it had - when she’d had to swallow down the thought that it had ruined her friend’s life when David had only been a part of it for a minute, or Once Upon a Time, somewhere far removed from the reality that Mary Margaret had gotten herself infatuated with a married man. She’d fallen down a road that Emma knew all too well, and it was her fault. Because she’d convinced her to entertain Henry’s story, pressed to believe only for show and Mary Margaret believed.

“You are a pawnbroker. Other people’s things are kind of your inventory,” Emma says.

He shrugs.

“These aren’t my trophies.”

Whose are they?

Emma stills the question on her tongue, and steps away from him to get a good look of the shop. She follows this counter around to the next, and even though his steps don’t follow hers, she feels him right behind her - his gaze almost as heated as the thought of pressing her body to his. A thought she has had a lot. Is having right now, apparently, because he’s looking at her and eye-fucking is kind of a thing he’s good at.

But –

She forges past that to focus on the shelves of objects as ridiculously mundane as an old record player and a Walkman with a Spice Girls sticker on the front, and as strange as wands in protective glass cases, a pack of tarot cards ink in colours that don’t seem real, and a genie’s lamp pulled straight out of Aladdin.

Then there’s the hand in the jar.

‘What the fuck?’ isn’t her first thought because there’s a goddamn hand in the jar, but because it’s Killian’s. Why the ever-loving fuck that is her first thought she can’t even fathom a reason for, besides that she’s read too many pages in that storybook.

She stiffens at the press of his hand to her shoulder, as he steps up behind her, beside her, and finally turning slightly to have both her and the hand in his view.

With a lifeless smile, Killian says, “The previous owner had quite the sense of humor. He left that for me as a -” He pauses, stretching out his handless arm so that she gets it when he says, “Parting gift.”

She sighs. “More hand jokes? Really?”

He can’t help himself from self-deprecating, from pointing it out before anyone else does, of turning his loss into a threat to anyone trying to use it against him because he’ll use it first.

Killian smiles and shrugs, and this smile is the same as before. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it sinks beneath his skin, where she can’t see – probably the same place she keeps hers, in the hollows of her heart.

She shouldn’t at all.

Maybe she really should.

Emma reaches for him. Her touch makes Killian pause, right before that moment where he curtains himself, and it’s with a clarity that she sees the haunting in his eyes, a darkness she really shouldn’t let herself touch, but she did, she is, and -

She swallows as he waits, frozen in that expression. Gods, she has no idea what he’s waiting for, like he’s been waiting forever. For her to pull away. For her to pull him with her.

“Light!” she blurts.

Killian’s expression shifts, and she shouldn’t sigh in relief for the bemused look, but it’s easier to handle than everything she just saw.

Searching for a way to not sound completely stupid, she says, “This place could really do with some more light if you want to attract any customers.”

She nods, satisfied as much as she can be. She is right. This place is way too dark. It feels a bit like a lair. Or a prison. Both, maybe.

His eyebrow lifts, his face deepening its confusion, and she sighs because this is something he doesn’t get. He understands enough to catch her at her weakest –

“You don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned.” Meeting the steel in her gaze with one of his own. “So, don’t.” –

He knows how to throw her back on her feet.

Killian understands enough to have her running. She really has been avoiding him since them, and doing a spectacular job of it, too, but now she’s stepping into him, close enough that he’s pressed against her as she looks for something to prove her point because this idiot can understand too many things but not how to light a shop, apparently.

She finds it. A fake flower that looks real, and not like something preserved to fit into a portrait to hang on a wall. It looks like it’s just been picked. Beautiful white petals curling towards its bright green stem.

Flowers are pretty, but beyond that, they’re just flowers. It’s not something she gets hyped for, but there’s a rush in her voice that can’t be explained by anything she’s felt before as she says, finger pointing at it through the glass, “That would totally sell.”

He settles in behind her, looking over her shoulder at the flower beneath her finger. Her breaths go unsteady as he murmurs, breath warm and making her shiver, “Are you looking to buy?”

She shakes her head swiftly, pushing out of their embrace.

Somehow it doesn’t feel like that motion has broken them apart at all.

“No. I’m not.”

Emma turns to face him, about to repeat herself when he offers a smile that’s been nothing like the others he’s given her today. No pure flirtation, no teasing or amusement, no masking, just a smile of genuine happiness.

Genuinely happy.

“Then it shall be a gift.”

She lifts her hands, self-defense second nature, and she hates that she has to defend herself against bringing out a smile - because smiles like that can only lead to trouble. The fluttering in her stomach has nothing to do with frustration, and she hates that she can even acknowledge that.

“No, nope,” she says.

“For the business advice,” he offers, his smile a little more recognizable, but no less difficult to handle. Killian understands her (and not normal business practices, of course, makes sense.) She won’t take anything that first smile offers, but this she can take.

Logical, really.

But not really at all because an installation of lights isn’t exactly a stroke of genius, and it’s not like he’s cared to do this before and there’s no particular reason why he should care now.

(No reason she should be the one to make him care.)

Killian moves behind the counter, pulls out a key from a pocket that she didn’t even know he had. His clothes are ridiculous. Either it’s the leather jacket with the inner pockets deep enough to hold a large (full and gladly shared) flask, or these skinny jeans that don’t look like they could hold anything at all without her seeing the outline of them in his pockets, and yet she missed that.

Granted, she hasn’t let her eyes drift beneath his torso up until this point, and granted that she’s of enough sense of self to let them linger.

“Here you go, love,” he says. Even as he does, he doesn’t expect her to walk over, coming out behind the counter to offer the flower to her himself.

Emma opens her palm for it, and his touch is gentle as he presses it into her grasp. Red’s flooding her cheeks, but more so, her chest feels like she’s doused herself in Vicks, and without the smell to distract, all she feels is the path of heat beneath her skin, leading to places she doesn’t want warmed.

She doesn’t want to feel anything at all, but she shifts the flower into the other hand so she can drag her fingers over it, and gasps in surprise.

“It’s real,” she says.

“Of course it is,” he replies, smile amused.

“What? How?”

“Magic,” he offers.

She doesn’t like the way he says it. Like it’s true. Like it’s a truth he hates, and yet, Killian looks at her like he doesn’t hate it that much at all.

Emma should’ve left when Henry did, for all this encounter has done to her head. Messed with it. He likes messing with her. He likes her.

Flight kicks in, and she says, “Thanks. I have to -”

“Go,” he finishes.

She nods and turns away, her gaze catching on the shelves of objects and there they settle again on that jarred hand. The flower is so soft beneath her fingers. Cold, though. Too cold.

Emma bites her lip, pausing yet again.

“Some more advice?”

Killian lifts a brow in amusement. “Should I paint the walls? Hang some new shelves?”

“The hand should go, too.”

He stiffens again, clearly searching her face from some sort of understanding. She doesn’t think she’s confused him this much since their first meeting, when, after stumbling into her (or she’d stumbled into him, realizing all she’d had in her car by way of clothes were two tank tops and a pair of jeans and stomped away in frustration) he’d murmured, “Are you real, lass?”

She’d jumped at the question, hackles raising. “Of course I’m real. Are you drunk?” was her swift response to the light smell of alcohol cloaking him, and he’d confirmed her assessment with a deep nod, “Aye, I am. And you are,” his gaze roving over her in wonder, “Quite real.”

It’s weird because she feels like Killian should understand the way her hand inches up to her neck, fingers brushing the chain. It’s been there for so long, but she hasn’t given it conscious thought in so long. Yet, it’s been on her mind too much lately. That necklace Neal gave her feels as painful as the day she put it on, and it isn’t because she sees Henry and thinks of him, although she does because he looks like him and has that same mischief that Emma loved, and still loves.

But it hurts, how she’s holding onto this reminder of everything that told her she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t have this, and she should never want to - when she’s so scared of how things will turn out with Henry now that she’s in his life, and she can acknowledge that he’s in her heart, her love for him the softest thing that’s ever found its home there.

It hurts because she’s more scared of holding onto this reminder of every reason why she can’t when she suspects that she’s actually starting to believe that she can.

But Killian can’t know that, all the intimate details of her rocky past and all the thoughts floating in her head and the feelings in her heart, when she’s been making sure that he can’t.

It isn’t like Emma knows him either - no matter that there are pages in Henry’s book detailing how Captain Hook lost his hand and his love, and how his revenge led him to Neverland and not that Neverland created it. She doesn’t know Killian Jones beyond a story her son believes, and these moments they’ve had, sharing a flask at the docks, a quipped remark here and there, and flirting every time they meet, whether he’s walking out the doors of the Mayor’s office, or while he’s in heated conversation with Dr. Whale, or after he’s finished antagonizing David on Main Street. Plus, he bears a fondness for the Sheriff’s Office that she bears with zero grace.

She doesn’t know him; he doesn’t know her, but she understands.

“You should get rid of it,” she says, and offers a raised eyebrow of her own and a scoffed question, “What does Captain Hook need with another hand anyway?”

“Yes...Aye.”

He quiets, and his gaze follows the trail her hand leaves when she pulls it away from the necklace weighing at her neck and cups her hands over the flower. Her hands are warm, but it doesn’t feel like it’s wilting in the slightest. It’s cold against her fingers, just short of the bite of winter, the air after a fresh fall of snow.

Killian follows the lift of her ducked head, the press of her lips. Emma finds them dry, and licks out at them, and he follows that motion, too. He follows her movements with a focus she doesn’t know how to match.

But she’s watching him, too, so maybe that’s the same given the circumstances, when she should’ve walked out the door the moment she came in.

She should have…

Killian’s confusion slowly gives way to a wonder unlike the one before.

“Why does Hook need a hand indeed?”

Any other time, she’d expect him to smirk, offer himself to her just so she could deny him. The familiar game. But right now, she isn’t playing at that. She isn’t playing at all. Maybe there’s something to the wonder – the revelation in his eyes because she’s never felt barer than she does right now.

Someone knocks at the door of his shop, and it startles. Confusing. Why would anyone need to knock?

“Mr. Jones, I…”

She whips around to face the newcomer, a portly man she’s seen before when he’s definitely been up to no good by the way he stutters, “Sheriff Swan! You’re…”

Emma saves him his breath because it sounds like he needs it.

“Leaving.”

She shifts back to Killian, but whatever she saw moments before is completely gone. He looks more shadowed now than he did when he’d stepped out of the dark corner of his shop.

“Thanks again and just remember –” Remember what? This? Everything this conversation has been? What has it been?

“Add more lights?”

She doesn’t mean the question, except that she has too many.

“Shall do, Sheriff,” he replies.

There’s nothing more to say to that so she steps past the man and out into the sunny day. The door shuts behind her, and she frowns at it.

But there’s nothing more to do except go about what she’s been doing. Train her focus back to - she groans as she pulls her phone out her pocket, a struggled motion to keep the flower uncrushed while checking the screen.

She’s late to being on call.

-

The flower first goes on top of her desk, but it doesn’t feel safe - she’s worrying about the safety of a flower, what the fuck. It goes into her desk, but that feels wrong, and she starts to rationalize these irrationalities. It’ll get crushed in her pocket. She can’t just put it anywhere where it can get crushed, lost, stolen. That last one occurs to her after she looks at old case files and catches a report of a break in at the flower shop.

The best option becomes her dashboard, in the empty box of her new phone charger, bought at a price only reasonable in a small town with no other competition, and no other options. Amazon apparently does not deliver to Storybrooke, Maine.

It’s the curse, Henry would say.

It is a curse, definitely.

A few days pass with the flower in her car, and (irrationally) she checks every time she gets in, expecting disaster. It’s always as perfectly preserved as before. Just as alive.

It’s either goddamn magic or just the coolest trick anyone’s ever pulled off.

She’s leaning towards (the former, really, but she hates that, it’s completely insane so she tells herself it’s) the latter.

Emma doesn’t mention it. Not that it’s something worth mentioning, or something she should mention, but just...yeah is all she can say. She doesn’t understand it really at all. It’s just a feeling that keeps it a secret, protected within her twice-stolen car.

Inevitably, today Henry pops open the dash to access a pen and yells, “Where did you get that?”

Emma rubs at her ears, his yell more akin to a pitch that she won’t mention to him, to protect his pride.

“Calm down, kid. It’s just -” She looks at the flower as he lifts it delicately from the box, marveling at it. Swallowing around that feeling she can’t voice, she says, “Killian gave it to me because I gave him some advice.”

“Whoa,” Henry says, wide eyes on her. “He gave you that?”

His expression tightens, fierce thought in his eyes. His brain is working to the max. Not always a good sign. Never a sign her day is going to remain nice and quiet.

“Yeah. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Emma, didn’t you read the whole book?” Henry accuses.

Embarrassed and guilty as charged (again), Emma says, “I read the important stories!”

“All of them are important,” Henry insists. Holding the flower up to her, he says, “Especially this one. The Dark One Rumplestiltskin tricked a woman into trading it to him to save her son. It’s protects you from all dark magic and it brings good luck. Of course, he wanted it to protect him from the Bog Witch’s curse - though it didn’t work for him because he is dark magic so he just kept it so no one could use it against him but…” Henry’s voice softens as he searches for an answer to his offered question. “Why would Captain Hook have that?”

A previous owner sounds like a good reason – if she’s to believe that…the feeling of pawnshop not belonging to him wasn’t an incorrect one.

Henry stares at the flower. Each word slow and measured, he says, “I think there’s some stories missing from the book.”

His gaze turns to her, so serious, an expression far too old for him to have. It’s the look of everything changing and having to face something you never thought possible.

Henry has been preaching the impossible since she met him. Nothing should be too impossible for him.

At a whisper, he says, “I think Captain Hook is the Dark One.”

Emma scoffs.

“Really?” she says.

She looks at the flower in his hand, and unthinkingly opens her palm for him to hand it to her.

“Seriously?” she reiterates.

She runs her fingers over the flower, over the ice cold petals in her hand.

‘Seriously?’ is what she asks, but it’s the answer as well. Seriously.

Emma really fucked up.

Emma really picked a shit time to start to believe.