#CSNLNY

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken At All Chapter 10/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated M

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

@kmomof4​ I really wanted to get this up Saturday for your birthday (since you yelled at me about the last one 😂) but the muse had other ideas so please accept this as a belated gift! 

Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘

And thank you everyone for the reblogs, comments and replies that give me so much dopamine ❤️

*****

Part 10

“What the hell does that mean?” Emma demands. “How is he here because of you?” He looks at the ground again. “You better start fucking talking, Killian, or I’m going to start thinking things I don’t want to think.”

Another sigh, shameful and bracing. “I don’t think what you’re imagining can be much worse than the truth.” 

“Tell me! Why is Henry here?”

“Please know, Emma, I had no intention of hurting your boy. None of this was supposed to happen.” She waits, the fact that she wants an answer from him is the only thing keeping her from lashing out and hitting him, or worse. “I was able to leave Neverland because I made a deal with Pan. He told me where to find the Crocodile, how I could kill him, and that he would let me leave to get my revenge… so long as I returned with something that was also in the Land Without Magic - something he couldn’t find.” 

Her whole body is shaking as he reaches into his jacket, pulls out the piece of paper she’d found folded in his pocket at the hospital but hadn’t looked at. He hands it to her and Emma takes it hesitantly, fingers stiff and uncooperative. Pulling the folds apart, she feels a rush of emotions so painful and indecipherable from one another as anger, hurt, fear, and betrayal each struggle to overwhelm her. Because right there, in the centre of the page, is a drawing of her son. 

She does hit him then, slamming the paper against his chest as she pushes him back with the heels of her palms, enough to send him stumbling back a step. “What the fuck? You brought him Henry?”

“No,” he shakes his head as she backs away, staring at the drawing in disbelief. Rage, rage is what ends up winning. 

“It sure looks like you did!”

“I know.” Killian hangs his head and it pisses her off even more. She wants him to deny it, to defend himself, to give her something to be even angrier about, something to fight with him about. “But I promise you, I never planned on even finding Henry, let alone bringing him to this horrid place. I was going to kill the Dark One and then run for as long as I could. But I failed… and Henry found me.” 

Henry had told her how terrified Killian had been when he’d showed up by his bedside. She remembers how he’d frozen when her son burst into the room while he held her at sword-point. She’d felt such pity for him then, the poor, traumatized man who was so terrified of children because of the things he’d seen done to them, because of things she assumed had happened to him when he was young. She was an idiot. What she’d really seen was a man coming face to face with his end of a bargain. 

“You expect me to believe you were just going to run from Pan? That you thought he’d just let you get away with it after everything you’ve told me about him?”

“No, and I didn’t. I expected he would find me and kill me. I just didn’t care. After I killed the Crocodile nothing would matter anymore,” he admits. “I tried to warn your boy away from that house, from where I feared the shadow would hunt -” 

“But you knew he was watching you. You knew he would come for you, make sure you followed through. You knew he wasn’t safe - that you could be leading him right to my son.” 

His face hardens, body tight as she watches him decide whether to lie to her. “Yes.” 

Her knife is free of her belt before she even thinks of drawing it, knuckles white against the hilt and Killian looks at it, and at her, his face not betraying any emotion. But when he takes a step forward, his arms out at his sides in surrender, she scrambles back away from him so quickly she nearly trips over the vines and rocks beneath her feet. 

“Don’t,” she warns, knife still at her side, and he freezes. “Don’t come anywhere near me.” 

“Swan -”

“Don’t.” How dare he call her that - her name that she gave up to spare him the pain of losing the memory of someone he loved, while he was the cause of her own loss. She backs up again, needing to get away, far away from him. She trusted him. She’d believed him when he told her he cared about Henry, when he swore he would get him back. Now she knows that even if he does, it would only be to assuage his guilty conscience. 

She drops the paper, turning to head off into the jungle. “Emma, wait,” he calls and she ignores him. “It’s not safe out here.”

“And I’m supposed to be safe with you?” she spits over her shoulder, continuing through the dark foliage, looking for the path. 

“Safer than you are with Pan or the Lost Boys.” She can hear him still coming after her, leaves and dirt crunching under his feet. 

“Stop following me,” she snaps but his footsteps continue and she turns so she can face him, stare him down with all the hatred and the betrayal that burns through her. “Just get the hell away from me, Killian. I’d rather take my chances with Pan. At least he’s not pretending to be a good guy.” 

Something in her words makes him stop, face falling, hurt - good - before the guilt returns and he stays there, letting her walk away. She doesn’t look back as she continues into the jungle, forcing her way through branches and vines that snag on her shirt and hair, blind to where she’s going with the denseness of the leaves and the canopy above shrouding everything in darkness.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been walking when she finally comes to a stop. She should have reached the beach by now but the jungle’s only grown denser, ancient trees with trunks so large she can’t see around them growing closer together the deeper she goes. The paths between them become so narrow that soon Emma worries she won't be able to go any further. 

She should turn around, go back. If she retraces her steps she’ll probably at least find the cave again and then she can try to find her way from there. It’ll probably be clearer when she’s not storming off in any direction in blind fury. A small part of her thinks she should have stayed with Killian, that she should go back if only so he can take her to the ship. She may not trust him, but she trusts Wendy and she’s sure the woman would take her side if she told her that Killian had handed her son over to Pan. And Will would likely be a good ally as well.

But she can’t go back. Not to him. She trusted him. Despite herself she let herself trust him, maybe even care a little about him. And then he’d betrayed her, broken her trust and turned out to be a liar, selfish like all the others. He let his history with Gold and his thirst for revenge be more important than the life of a kid - her kid. He risked Henry’s life so he could get what he wanted, because nothing would matter anymore after he killed his crocodile, not to him anyway. No, she can’t go back. 

She finally reaches a point in the jungle where the trees won’t let her pass any further. Their roots are woven together, solid branches hanging from others like vines and rooted to the ground. It's as though willow trees had been petrified, every hanging stream of leaves turned to a new trunk that leaves a solid wall of twisting wood she can’t find a way through. The branches are thick, strong and too solid to break, the wall reaching so high she knows she could never climb it. 

Of course, Emma thinks. Of course she managed to find a dead end on an island without reaching the water like she was hoping. She sighs, sitting down at the foot of one of the trees, crossing her legs under her and looking up at the branches that climb into the sky and block out the sun. 

“Hey, Neverland,” she mutters, picking up a rock and tossing it half-heartedly at the trunk. “You suck.” 

“You’ve wandered far from your camp, Lost Boy,” a voice says behind her. 

Emma jumps to her feet, turning to face the person who spoke, and the arrow they have aimed right at her heart. Wielding it is a tall, graceful creature, strong and threatening as they eye her. 

She would almost assume they were human but they’re somehow… more - longer in height and limbs, sharper in angles, and pulsing with a magic she can see cascading across their skin. 

Indiscernibly man or woman, the edges of the stranger’s elegant features shine with gold, dusted against their dark skin beneath loose-fitting clothes. Their hair cropped so short it’s nearly shaved off completely, they watch Emma with eyes so black there’s no separating pupil from iris. 

“Wait,” Emma says, stepping forward and then freezing when they draw their bow tighter. 

“You’ve crossed the treaty line. Your kind aren’t welcome on our land.”

“I’m not a Lost Boy,” she says quickly and they look her over carefully, narrowing those dark eyes distrustfully. 

“Then what are you?”

“I’m… I’m a pirate,” she tries. Her assailant frowns, steadies their aim. Shit, wrong answer. “No, hold on, I, Captain Darling sent me, he wants to -”

“Liar.” 

“He’s with me.” 

They whirl around, arrow pointed at whoever is coming out of the woods behind them and Emma tries to scramble back against the branches, find somewhere to hide. To her unbelievable relief, Killian emerges from the darkness, hands up in a show of surrender. 

“You,” the being hisses in disbelief, and fury, fingers clearly itching to release the arrow. 

Killian nods. “Tiger Lily. It’s been a long time.” 

“As I recall, I said I’d kill you if I ever saw you again, Hook.”

He swallows. “Aye. That you did.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because I can offer you something better than my head on a stake.” Tiger Lily cocks their head and Killian’s expression darkens, his words spoken quietly as though someone could be listening. “Pan’s.” 

The bow lowers slightly. “What do you mean, pirate? Explain yourself.”

“Things are changing, Tiger Lily. You’ve seen the jungle - when has it ever been this wild? Pan’s lost control of it.” 

“And?”

“He’s weak. Something’s happened that he’s trying to fix.”

“The child,” they agree.  

“You've seen him?” Emma demands. "Is he okay?”

Tiger Lily turns to her, raising a brow as though they forgot she was there. “Who is he to you?”

“I’m -”

“Someone who wants to see Pan dead more than either of us,” Killian cuts her off.

“A bold claim,” Tiger Lily answers, still speaking to her.

“Please.”

Tiger Lily nods slowly, clearly trying to figure out who she is. “Our scouts have seen the new child. He is unharmed.” Emma nearly sobs. It’s the first she’s heard about Henry since he disappeared two nights ago and just knowing he’s unharmed overwhelms her with relief. They turn to Killian then. “But he grows more loyal to the boy with each passing day. I fear soon he will give Pan what he wants if he is not stopped.”

“If we strike now, stop him from seeing his plan through, we could save the child and end Pan’s tyranny. For good.” Tiger Lily hesitates, considering it, bow lowered to Killian’s feet now. “This island could be yours again, the way it was before he stole it from you and forced you to retreat within your walls. We could take it back.”

“Who is this ‘we’ you speak of?”

“All of us. Every clan on the island against him and the Lost Boys.”

“And what of the Fae?”

Killian hesitates. “We’ve just come from the Lorelei and -”

Tiger Lily scoffs. “If you do not have the Fae Queen on your side then you are only dreaming as the boys do. Our knowledge will give you no power against the boy without their magic.”

“Aye, I know. But if we could get them…”

“If you manage to gain the allegiance of the Fae court, then the Constant will consider your request. We have been safe these last centuries. So long as no treaties are broken, the boy does not bother us. I will not risk the lives of my people on your desire for revenge.” 

“Fair enough,” he agrees, then gives Tiger Lily a small, cheeky smile. “So, will you let me live long enough to try, love? You can always just kill me later.”

Emma thinks Tiger Lily might be smirking when they answer, “I’ve waited a decade to send this arrow through your heart, Hook. I will wait a few days more.” 

Killian chuckles, bowing in thanks and then looking at Emma. “Come on, mate. Captain Darling will be expecting us.” 

Emma hurries to cross the space between the wall and Killian’s side. But as she passes, she can’t help herself, turning and taking hold of Tiger Lily’s arm, a look of utter disbelief on their face. “Please,” she says. “You keep watch on the Lost Boys?” Still staring as though shocked by her audacity, they nod. “The boy you said you saw, can you give him a message? Can you get close enough to him to do that without risking your people?”

“We do not meddle in the affairs of the Lost Boys,” they start but Emma cuts them off.

“Please, just, just tell him that I’m coming for him. I need him to know.” She meets the Constant’s eyes, holds their gaze. “Tell him his mother’s coming for him.” 

Tiger Lily stares at her, gaping at her words and then looking her over from head to toe. Something shifts then, their rigidness softening and they give a small tilt of their head. “The boys plan to hunt by the edge of our woods tomorrow. Should he break away from the pack, I’ll deliver your message. That’s all I can offer you.” 

“Thank you,” she says, finally releasing their arm and walking the rest of the way to Killian who is scowling at her fiercely. 

“Do you intend to reveal yourself to everyone on this island?” he hisses as they head into the jungle.

“They all hate Pan as much as we do right? Who cares if they know I’m breaking his rules. Henry needs to know I’m coming for him.” 

“The more people know a secret, the harder it is to keep.” 

“Yeah, you know a lot about keeping secrets, don’t you?”

He has the nerve to look frustrated. “I told you I didn’t mean to lead Pan to your boy.” 

“But you did,” she says, shoving a branch out of her way more aggressively than she needs to. 

“Accidentally.” 

“Deciding to ignore the consequences isn’t the same as an accident.” 

“Swan.” His hook loops around her elbow, pulling her back to face him and she feels renewed fury at the use of her name. He notices, relenting - “Emma” - but not releasing his hold on her. “I’m sorry.” Killian takes a moment to compose himself, like the words hurt him and she thinks he’s not the type to apologize very often. “I knew Pan was looking for Henry and I intended to avoid him at all costs. But Henry found me, and then I thought he would be safer under my protection, that it was better that he stay where I could keep an eye on him should Pan come looking for him.”

“But you didn’t protect him.” 

“I tried,” he urges, hook pulling her a fraction closer, making her face him. “I warned him to stay away from that house. I warned you to keep him close, that there were things you didn’t understand about this world. I told you about the bloody shadow and that I was going to try to stop it.” His voice lowering with bitter memory, he speaks the rest through clenched teeth. “And you locked me in a cell for it.” 

Emma swallows, remembering Killian’s warning from behind those bars, ones she’d taken as the ravings of a sick man. The fairytales are true, love. You best start listening to the lad or there’ll be darkness coming for all of you. He had tried to tell her - and she hadn’t believed him. 

“And still I came back to this godforsaken, wretched place to help you, to help Henry. Everything I’ve done since you came to me in that brig has been to get your boy home, to try and make up for my role in his being here in the first place.” He lets go of her arm then, expression almost pleading. “You can hate me if you want, Emma. But I swear to you I will get your son back, and put an end to Pan so no child is taken again.” 

She stares at him, searching his face for any hint of a lie, any trace of insincerity, but there is none. He’s risked everything to get her here, to save her son, was willing to give up his love's name to atone for what he’d done when he was blinded by a hatred carried for centuries. She believes him, believes that he’ll do whatever it takes to save Henry, because regardless of whatever ill feelings he has for her, he cares about her kid, about all the kids on this island, and she can’t find the anger she’d clung to before. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

Killian lets out a knowing huff, mouth curling in a sad smile. “But you don’t trust me.” The conversation is so familiar, so similar to the one they had only last night, their roles have reversed. 

“I want to,” Emma sighs. “We both have a lot of bad blood in the trust department.” 

“Aye, that we do.” He pauses for a moment, all of the betrayal and hurt between them lingering in the air. Finally, he settles on something, straightening and meeting her gaze. “Then let me earn yours back, now that there are no secrets. And I will give you mine and trust that you won’t break it now that you know the truth. We’re here for the same reason, Swan,” he says and she doesn't correct him this time. “We want the same thing. At least we can trust in that.” 

A part of her hates how easy it is to agree with him, how heedlessly her heart wants to trust this man despite how little she knows about him. But she catches herself nodding, trusting that he’s telling her the truth now, that they need to forgive each other’s missteps if they’re going to survive Neverland and save Henry. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he repeats, looking relieved and letting their newfound, fragile understanding settle between them. “Let’s head back to the ship. Wendy will think we’ve been eaten by the Lorelei soon.” She nods, pensive, following him silently as he leads the way through the jungle, thinking of the mermaids, of Tiger Lily, everything that’s happened in the space of a morning. Of what she’d lost in the space of a breath. 

“How does it work?” she asks after they’ve found their way back to the Lorelei’s cave, the howling song haunting from its depths. “Will I just never be able to say my name again? Does it continue in the Land Without Magic?” 

“I’m not sure,” he confesses. “Mermaid magic is powerful - one of the only kinds that can travel across realms, so it’s possible.” 

“But is it just my name or can I talk about -” she pauses, the end of her question eluding her, like the word is stuck on the tip of her tongue, at the edge of her memory but she can’t recall it. Damn it, she’d had the word in her mind only a moment ago. But now that she’s tried to speak it, it’s as though it’s vanished from her vocabulary. “... I guess not,” she says then. Swan. That was the word. It seems she can remember it so long as she doesn’t try to voice it. 

“I’m sorry, love,” he breathes.

“It’s fine. It’s just a name. I can change it if I need to.” 

“If that were true then the Lorelei wouldn’t have taken it.” He doesn’t push her for an explanation, to know why the name means so much that it would be her most precious truth, the words only expressed as a gesture of understanding, of empathy. 

She doesn’t answer at first, not until they’ve fallen out of earshot of the sirens’ songs. “Will you… Just don’t let me forget it, okay?” The fear that the word will elude her so much that she’ll forget it all together makes her chest tighten, a fear that she’ll lose herself along with the name. 

“Aye, Swan,” he nods, the nickname spoken like a promise. “Never.” She can see in the way that he looks at her that an echo of the same fear now lives in him, realizing that if she hadn’t jumped in and taken his place, he may have lost the memory of Milah’s name, and the memory of her. Emma’s glad she did. She knows her loss is more easily born than his.  

“What was Ianeira talking about when she said 'the way that things used to be'?” It’s a question that’s plagued her since the caves, though she was too angry to turn to him for answers. 

He tenses. “When Pan first came to the island, those who already belonged did not bow gently to him at first. They resisted his rule and his tyranny, not wanting to play his games. But the more children came to Neverland, the stronger he grew, amassing a small army of loyal boys who could not be reasoned with, couldn’t see the consequences of their actions. And Pan exploited that.” 

Killian takes a breath and she worries she doesn’t want to hear what happened next. “They called it fishing. A test of strength and bravery for boys who wished to prove themselves, to catch a mermaid and bring back her tailfin.” 

Emma nearly vomits - feeling for the sirens she’d only seen as cruel until now. “Couldn’t they fight back? I mean they’re man-eating creatures with bad tempers. Even you’re scared of them.” 

He doesn’t deny it. “The boys can’t die - not unless Pan wills it. They can be wounded like Will, with a battle scar, but they’re protected by his magic, Neverland bending to keep them from death. The Lorelei couldn’t have dragged them down into the depths no matter how hard they tried. It went on for decades, hundreds of them caught and mutilated and thrown back in the sea to die - until Ianeira agreed to fall in line, to let Pan rule her and her sisters so long as he put a stop to the fishing, agreeing to kill any boy who interfered with the siren’s lives.” 

He tenses again. “There are still reminders, along the south shore of the island where they hunt, petrified tails of fallen Lorelei hung from stakes on the beach - too far inland for the sirens to reach.” 

Emma can’t answer. Too sickened, too disturbed by the gruesome history to find words. Their deal makes more sense now - a life for a life - a perceived fair trade for risking a return to the brutality of their past. “And Tiger Lily’s people, he took the island from them?” 

“Aye. The Constant were here long before any others, before sirens and fae. Children would come to Neverland in their dreams but they wouldn’t stay. The Constant filled their nights with magic and games by creating living dreams from the shadows of the island. 

“But Pan managed to stay - I don’t know how - and he took control of the island, let other boys stay as well. When Neverland’s people tried to stop him, he did as he did with the Lorelei - killed and slaughtered until they surrendered the island to him - the island he turned against them. The Constant had never known death before Pan. They were allowed to continue to live so long as they remained on the territory Pan chose for them. They built their walls to keep him and the Lost Boys out.”

“Did Tiger Lily tell you all this?”

“Aye. They and some of their people when I first found my way to Neverland.” She assumes this was before they decided they wanted to kill him. 

“In the stories,” Emma tries to remember, “Tiger Lily was a princess, the daughter of a chief…” 

“Perhaps they were, once. But there are no women allowed on the island and the Constant are too close to human for Pan’s liking. They adapted, all of them homogenous, genderless to avoid his attention. He’s still a child in many respects and his ability to distinguish man from woman is superficial at best.” 

“Why does Tiger Lily want to kill you?” Clearly they were close at some point if they shared so much of their people’s history with him. Emma wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’d slept with them as well, she thinks with a shake of her head. 

“A simple misunderstanding,” he reiterates. 

“What misunderstanding?”

“Ah, look, there’s the beach.”

Her question goes unanswered as they climb into the little boat and he rows them back to the Jolly Roger. “We’ll have to get the Fae on our side,” he says, pulling back on the oars. “The Constant will never join us without them.” 

“Who are the Fae?” 

“Fairies. Powerful magical beings.” 

“Wait, I thought the Constant were the fairies.” 

He shakes his head. “The Fae live by the river on the far side of the island.” 

“Okay, but Tiger Lily and their people are magic immortal beings who live in the forest and have some infinite knowledge of the land and could create dreams out of nowhere?” 

“Aye.” 

“So fairies.” 

“No.”

“But they glow! Like literally their skin sparkles gold. That’s pixie dust right? That’s a fairy.”

“No.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and looking out at the water. “Neverland is stupid.” 

“You’ll understand when we visit the Fae Court. Fairies are something else entirely,” he says with an air of respect and even admiration and she can only remember the little coffee cup fairy she’s not sure she’d really seen, who had flipped her off before flying away. 

Wendy is there to greet them when they climb back on board, the journey far easier this time with the dinghy hooked up to the little pulley system, Will steadfastly at her side. “Oh, thank god you’re alive,” she says, crossing the deck to meet them. “What happened?” She’s looking them both over, checking for injuries and breathing a sigh of relief when she finds none. 

“The Lorelei have promised us their allegiance and their silence,” Killian tells her. 

“And what did they want in exchange?” she asks, Emma’s heart racing at the answer she’s not sure she wants to give. The answer that will require explanations, that will birth questions she doesn't want to answer.

“A life for every siren killed should Pan decide to open season on them once more.” 

Wendy nods grimly. “It could have been worse.” 

“They know,” he continues, gaze casting over to Emma. “About her.”

Wendy’s eyes widen, reeling. “And you’re alive?” she demands, grabbing her arms and looking her over again. “How the hell did you manage that?” 

“She can be quite… convincing,” Killian concedes with a raised brow in her direction. 

“Tiger Lily knows too,” Emma tells her and Wendy turns on Killian this time. 

“What? How?” 

“We had a run-in with them in the woods. Swan told them.” 

“What did they say?” 

“Nothing,” Emma says. “They’re giving Henry a message for me. Tiger Lily thinks he’s becoming loyal to Pan. I can’t let that happen, not if we’re going to stop him from getting what he wants. He needed to know I was looking for him.” 

“So you just exposed yourself?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“Listen, their whole civilization was forced to hide from Pan behind walls, to change who they were to survive. Something tells me they aren’t going to rat someone out for being a woman when they’ve been hunted for the same reason.” She gives Wendy a meaningful look and the bosun seems mollified, their shared experience shedding light on the Contstant’s understanding. 

“Are they going to help?” 

“Only if we get the Fae on our side,” Killian answers. “We need to get an audience with the Queen somehow.”

“You could send a message to the Lorelei,” Will suggests, speaking for the first time since they arrived. “If they’re on our side then they could get it to the Fae without anyone knowing.” 

“Aye, that could work,” Killian admits even though he seems to hate to say it. “Do you still have the bottle?” he asks Wendy. 

“Yeah. It’s in your desk. I held on to it in case I ever… needed to reach you.” 

A guilty expression crosses his face as anger darkens Will’s. He sighs, hanging his head, “I’m sorry I was gone so long.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Wendy brushes off his apology, Will taking a step closer to her before she quickly adds. “I’ll go get it. We should send the message as soon as possible.” 

She hurries off towards the cabin, Will watching her go for a moment as the three of them wait in silence. When he turns back he fixes Killian with a glare that turns Emma’s blood cold. 

“Is there a problem?”

“Pretty rich apologizing for being gone so long when we both know you never planned to come back at all.” 

“Captain Darling knew of my intentions. I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Oh, aye,” he snaps, lowering his voice before continuing. “The Captain knew exactly what you had planned, to leave her here alone forever while you went off and lived your life or died. Either way you abandoned her.” 

“Watch yourself, boy,” Killian warns, lowering his voice as well so as not to be heard by the few pirates scattered around the deck. “I never abandoned anyone. Darling knew, she agreed. Let’s not start naming vices as I believe your list is as long as mine. Don’t suppose to know her when you’ve spent less than a decade on this ship and she’s been in my care for over a century.”

“Oh, you know her so well,” Will hisses. “Never did wrong by her,” he continues with anger dripping off each word. A silence hangs between them for a heartbeat before the young man speaks again, fixing Killian with a deadly look. “She hears them, you know.” Killian blinks, all emotion vanishing as he stares. “Ever since you left.”

“You lie,” he accuses but it falls short, his voice cracking. The Lost Boys cries, Emma realizes. The ones that can only be heard by those who feel abandoned and unloved. 

“I wish I was.” 

The silence hangs between them, heartbreaking on both ends, one fueled by guilt and the other by anger - both by love. Emma places a hand on Killian’s arm, an attempt at comfort that he doesn’t shrug off. She knows what it’s like to feel like you’ve abandoned someone you love, she cried over the thought that Henry could hear the Lost Boys last night. Knowing what it is to be abandoned only makes the pain and the guilt more unbearable. 

“Here it is,” Wendy says when she returns, handing him the bottle. He takes it from her, jaw clenched and watching her until he can’t seem to anymore and he avoids her gaze, looking everywhere but at the girl he left behind. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he lies, lifting the bottle to his lips. Emma frowns at the strange, empty vial as he speaks into it, asking for the mermaids to deliver his request to the Fae Court, to return to him with an answer. He finishes by naming Ianeira and then stoppers the bottle. “That should do it,” he says tightly, turning to toss it into the sea and Emma realizes that he’s just sent an actual message in a bottle. 

“How long will it take?” she asks. 

He shrugs, distracted. “They’ll go by night, so as to avoid being seen. We won’t hear back until at least the morning. We should all be prepared.” 

“For what?” 

“The Fae Court isn’t as easily persuaded as the Lorelei,” Wendy answers. 

“Aye,” Will adds. “And they can be trusted even less.”

“Less than the mermaids?” Emma blinks and the other woman nods. “How’s that even possible?”

“Because you’ll want to trust them.” Killian is the one to answer this time. “They’re very good at luring mortals in with glamour and fine gifts. They aren’t so good at letting them leave.”

Emma sighs, not really wanting to know the answer. “Do they eat people too?” 

He smirks. “No, Swan, they don’t eat people. But they will rob you of your life without you even noticing. You’ll even enjoy it until you realize what’s happened.” 

“How?” 

“Magic. Even your realm has stories of those who step into the Fae lands and don’t return for decades or centuries, their time away having only felt like an afternoon.”

“Oh, great,” she mutters. Time is the one thing she doesn’t have to spare, not with Henry still in Pan’s clutches. 

“Don’t worry,” Wendy tells her. “We’ve fostered somewhat of a relationship with the court these past few years.” 

“You have?” Killian sounds surprised.

“Someone had to smooth things over after you left.” The other captain raises a brow and Killian shrinks with guilt - though not at whatever happened with the fairies. “You left many a disheartened fae folk in your wake when you disappeared without a trace.” 

Wendy’s fighting a mocking smile and Emma lets her head fall back in exasperation, wondering exactly how many fairies he’s slept with in this court they’re visiting. That’ll be fun to navigate on top of everything else. 

“It seems I did more damage than I ever anticipated when I pursued my revenge,” Killian sighs, the sound remorseful and Emma sees the way Wendy looks at him in confusion and Will looks at him with something besides hatred for the first time since she met him. 

“It’s fine. Like I said, we managed to patch things up fairly well. And I’ll be coming with you so I can smooth over any -”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts, causing both women to turn and stare in disbelief. 

“Excuse me?” Wendy’s words are a warning. 

“It’s not safe.”

“And it is for you?”

“No, but you don’t know how the court can be and it’s too dangerous-”

“I know exactly how the court can be. Like I said, I spent ten years cleaning up your mess, ten years fostering friendship and tentative alliances with the Fae. And despite what you might believe, you’re not actually my father.” He flinches but covers it quickly. “After over a century, and a decade leading in your stead, I chose when I take orders, Captain.”

“And who will defend the ship should the Lost Boys attack or should Pan pay a visit if we’re both gone?” 

“Will can do it.” 

“Like hell I can,” Will snaps. Wendy turns that same warning glare on him. “If you’re going then I am too.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion. I may not be your captain anymore, but I still outrank you and -”

“You are my captain,” he challenges. “And as your right hand it’s my job to be at your side.” 

The two stare each other down with matching glares, something in their standoff feeling deeply personal and Emma jumps in to cut the tension before Killian picks up what she’s pretty sure she’s seeing. 

“We’ll all go,” she declares. “Captain Darling’s right. If you burned your bridges you need someone there to back you up. And we can always use another sword,” she nods at Will who blinks in surprise at her support.  

Killian narrows his eyes at her. “And you?” 

“Are we really going to have this conversation again? I’m his mother. I’m going. It’s not like Pan is going to attack when he just did a day ago, right?” 

He pouts, frustrated by her logic before relenting, scoffing a petulant “Fine.” He turns to Wendy. “The fairies won’t be fooled by her.”

“No, they’ll see through the disguise in a second. But they’ve kept my secret this long, and the fact that we’re bringing a mortal woman into their court may be seen as a gift.”

“A what?” Emma has no intention of being offered as a gift to a bunch of fairies. 

“Not literally,” Wendy says quickly. “The Fae are trapped here like everyone else and the Lost Boys are forbidden by Pan from entering their territory. Humans are their favourite thing and they’ve been denied them, apart from the occasional pirate, for centuries.”

“So I’m bait?” she clarifies. 

“More like enticement,” Will volunteers with a smirk. 

“Nothing will happen to you,” Killian promises quietly, with a glare at the younger man. “I’ll stay by your side and make sure you’re safe.” 

“Oh yeah?” she asks, grinning wryly even as a warmth spreads through her chest at his declaration. “And who’s going to make sure you’re safe from all those poor, heartbroken fairies?” 

He returns her smirk, cocky and suggestive. “I think you’ve seen by now just how persuasive I can be.”

Wendy gags. “Ew.” 

***

She’s woken that night by the sounds of the Lost Boys’ cries, their longing wails creeping out from the jungle and down through the deck. Rolling onto her back she stares into the darkness at the ceiling, trying to wish them away, to ignore them and everything they serve as a reminder of. They’re louder tonight than they were last time, and she hopes it’s not because more have joined in - that it’s not because Henry has joined in. 

A door creaks open in the hall, footsteps echoing silently through the narrow corridor, someone treading lightly. Another door opening, and then the sound of it clicking shut and she wonders who else is being kept awake. She can’t drown out the sound of the children crying for their mothers, the sound dragging on as she tosses and turns, pillow over her ears. 

Finally giving up, unable to lay there in the dark while the sound drowns out everything else around her, she climbs out of bed, pulling her boots on and deciding to at least find somewhere less claustrophobic to be miserable. The deck feels like a good idea, the sea and the stars more comforting than an unfamiliar, dark room that reminds her of so many other unfamiliar, dark rooms she’d been bounced between in her life, reminded of exactly why the Lost Boys sorrow makes itself known to her. 

Shutting the door quietly, Emma pauses when she hears sounds of shuffling coming from the room next to her, wondering if Wendy is laying awake like she was, if what Will said was true about her hearing the cries since Killian left. She thinks of knocking, of seeing if the other woman might want company as they both endure the restless night for however long the haunting song lasts. But before she can, another sort of sound filters out from behind the door and Emma has to slap a hand over her mouth to stop herself gasping or laughing in shock. It sounds to her like someone else had the same idea, and Wendy clearly isn’t at a want for companionship or comfort at the moment. 

She’s still trying to suppress her giggles, wondering whether it’s who she thinks it is that’s in there with her, when another door opens. Killian steps out of his room, vest and jacket discarded and hair a mess as though he’s done his own share of tossing and turning tonight. Apparently it’s a night for abandoned wandering, she thinks grimly. He looks taken aback when he sees her standing in the hall and turns towards his cabin, hand still on the knob like he might retreat right back into it. 

Emma gives an awkward wave, “Lost Boys?” and his shoulders sag. 

“Normally I can ignore them but I…” he looks towards the room beside her, where the girl he abandoned sleeps - well, not tonight she doesn’t, but usually. 

“You wanted to know if what Will said was true?” she asks, crossing the small space between them so they can speak in hushed voices. 

“Aye,” he admits, not looking her in the eye. 

“It’s not your fault, Killian. You didn’t mean to be gone for so long.” 

“No, I meant to be gone forever,” he challenges. “And she didn’t try to stop me - or I didn’t realize if she did. I didn’t even think how she might… I need to speak to her.” He brushes past and Emma panics, imagining exactly what kind of scene he might walk in on if he opens that door. She grabs his arm, holds him back and he shoots her a frown. 

“I don’t think now’s the best time.”

“Why not?” 

“Because,” Emma scrambles for a moment, ‘because she’s getting laid’ feeling like the wrong answer. So she chooses another truth. “Because she didn’t tell you.” Hurt deepens his frown. “And if you go barging in there and demanding she have this conversation she’s obviously not ready to have, you’ll only make it worse.” 

It’s a moment before the slight pull of his arm against her grip slackens, Killian bowing his head in acceptance. “Then when?”

She’s surprised by his question, by the vulnerability in it. Emma knows how it feels to let someone down, it’s part of the reason she’s avoided any real connection to anyone for so long. If nobody depends on you then you can never disappoint them. “Let her come to you.”

“And if she doesn’t?” 

“Then you just accept it, I think.” She’s not really sure herself. “And you just do whatever you can to make sure she doesn’t feel that way again.” He only watches her, like he wants to argue. “Look, I know I’m not the best person to be giving out parenting advice but -”

“No, you’re right,” Killian shakes his head. He looks off in the direction of Wendy’s room again. 

She doesn’t have words to comfort him, at least nothing he’ll listen to. She knows because she wouldn’t listen to them either. She brushes her fingers over the bruise on his cheek, now a faint yellow thanks to Neverland’s waters, the only kind of comfort she knows how to offer. Her touch draws him back to her, some of the angst replaced by surprise. Emma draws her hand back from his face, the other still holding his elbow - just in case he tries to go to Wendy’s room again. 

“You should try sleep,” he suggests, thumb brushing over her arm in a way that’s almost comforting, but leaves goosebumps in its wake. “They’ll stop soon.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been one to fall back asleep,” she shrugs. 

“Aye, me neither.” 

“I was heading up on deck. Thought things might be a little more peaceful up there.” 

He smirks. “Surrounded by a bunch of snoring or drunk pirates? I can think of far better ways to pass a sleepless night.” 

His raised brow causes the corner of her lips to tug up in amusement. “I’ll just bet you can,” she rolls her eyes, despite the fact that a part of her thinks it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. And it would definitely get her mind off the Lost Boys. His deepening smirk makes her think he knows she’s considering it.

“I was only going to offer a nightcap,” he promises innocently and she knows it’s a bad idea. 

“That’s booze right?”

Killian huffs a laugh. “Aye, Swan. Just a drink.”  

She could really go for a drink right now. After everything that’s happened the last few days a stiff one sounds amazing. 

“Yeah, okay. What have you got?” He reaches around her to open the door, leaning in and knowing exactly what he’s doing. Emma has no idea what she’s doing as she lets him use such a cliche move to close the distance between them. This is a bad idea. “Careful with the hands there, bud,” she warns as he brushes against her waist, brow raised and lip caught between her teeth against a smile. 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he lies and she can feel his breath against her cheek. “I’ve only got the one.”  

Before his single, wandering hand can close around the doorknob though, a clattering comes from the room beside hers. It’s quiet, like something being knocked off a shelf or a table, a small cry that could be mistaken for pain but Emma knows definitely isn’t, following. When Killian raises his head, twisting towards the noise, she panics again, needing to stop him from busting in there and probably killing Will. 

So she does something unbelievably stupid. 

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she yanks him to her, kissing him hard and sudden. He sucks in a breath, frozen, and she’s just about to pull away, realizing just how bad of an idea this was, before he sighs into her mouth, fingers tangling in her hair, and presses her back against the doorjamb. His lips tug at her own, a nip to one before his tongue flicks out to soothe it, teasing, heart racing and skin heating when he slants his mouth over hers. 

Her hand fists in his hair, holding him there, pulling him closer, forgetting this was supposed to be a distraction. No wonder every goddamn creature on this island wants to fuck him, she thinks, gasping when his tongue slides into her mouth and finds her own. His hook wanders the length of her side, catching her hips and dragging them against his and she breaks the kiss before the embarrassing sound that was forming in her chest can come out. 

His forehead falls against hers, breathing flatteringly ragged. “What was that for?” 

Emma swallows, trying to steady her own breath before shrugging. “Just wanted to see what all the fish and the fairies were so hung up about.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling through her where his chest is pressed to hers. “And?” 

“Eh,” she shrugs again, struggling not to smirk even when he does. 

“Well, perhaps you can join me for that nightcap and I can attempt to live up to my reputation.” 

She worries her lip between her teeth. It’s a really bad idea. This was just supposed to be a distraction. But her whole body is screaming at her to go into that room with him and she doesn’t say no, doesn’t pull away when he takes her hand and pushes the door open with a cheeky grin.

But before he’s even walked inside, he tenses, shoving her back away from him, outside of the room and behind the door before slamming it shut. She stands there, stunned, staring at the slab of wood she hears him lock between them. Then a voice carries over from inside. 

“Hello, Hook.”

*******

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Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

[kmomof4]

Self Promo Thursday?

So, apparently 9yrs ago today, this happened…

So I thought it’d be the perfect occasion to promo my Captain Swan Neverland New Year fic

A One Time Thing?

Canon divergence from the kiss, but one I’ve been assured we’d have all rather had as canon… so enjoy my feelsy, smutty divergence…

I’d love to know what you think if you haven’t read it before, or even if you have!

[jgvfhl]

Happy Neverland New Year!

@neverlandnewyear

Yay! First entry for me! It's been a while since I did anything with the OUAT fandom, or Captain Swan for that matter, but I was inspired to join these festivities. Also I love random magical shenanigans. I hope folks enjoy!

Summary: Hook has been trying to be better for Emma--he has. But it's hard when her parents are Snow White and Prince Annoyingly Charming, and he hasn't been a "good guy" in about two hundred years. To make matters worse, a confused and all-too-eager to please Lieutenant Killian Jones drops in out of nowhere, serving as a helpful reminder of just how far he's fallen.

Words: 3920

No warnings that I can think of, but if I need to change that, please let me know! Just a bunch of emotions...

----

Neverland had always had its delightful quirks as long as Hook could recall–usually leaning towards the deadly or otherwise harmful variety. The others, the ones new to Neverland, had learned that quickly over the past… well, one could never be quite sure how much time had passed here. So, the natural response to someone appearing in a puff of blue flame amidst their party was the shrill choir of several blades being drawn and leveled at the man on the dirt, his among them.

“Where the bloody hell–?” the man started, then raised his face to see three swords and one bow aimed at his face.

“What the hell–?” Emma said at about the same time.

And then everyone looked at Hook.

He sighed. Some emotion he didn’t stop to identify flared up–annoyance, anger, loathing, there were a few contenders–and he sheathed his cutlass. Everyone else’s weapons lowered slightly. “Get up,” he told the man on the ground. “Before you make a fool out of both of us.”

Killian Jones slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his breeches and Naval jacket. “Where in hell am I?” he asked, staring at the people around him.

“You’re in Neverland, you’ve never heard of it,” Hook told him, finding it difficult to meet his own (?) eyes. Then, to everyone else, he added, “You can put those away, he’s harmless.”

“You sure about that?” Mary Margret asked, lowering, but not stowing, her bow and arrow. “He’s you.”

Hook almost laughed at that, but the impulse died somewhere in his chest. The man who had just appeared in Royal Navy attire with a stupid-looking ponytail and both hands could hardly be farther from him. Young, full of hope of new life in the Navy, always under the watchful gaze of honorable big brother, probably hadn’t had a drop of rum in months, if Hook remembered correctly.

Hatred. That had been the emotion he hadn’t named earlier.

“I assure you, Your Highness,” he said, “you’ve nothing to worry about from him.”

“‘Your Highness?’” Killian repeated, looking between Mary Margret and Hook. He straightened up noticeably.

“Oh, no no, please–” she started, ever humble, and finally taking both hands off her weapon.

Hook stepped forward. “Yes, Her Highness.” He didn’t know why he was doing this. And he didn’t know why there was an odd satisfaction that came from watching Killian’s face when he caught sight of the hook as he used it to point people out. “That’s Her Highness Snow White, he’s her Prince Charming Dave, that lovely creature is their daughter Emma–don’t ask about the timeline on that one–and that is Baelfire but everyone calls him Neal. Got it?” He did not wait for a reaction of any kind. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, they’re on a bit of a schedule, so if you’d like any chance of getting back to whatever you were doing, I suggest you keep up and do your best not to die.”

As Hook had expected, Killian nodded immediately. The flame of hatred burned a bit brighter in his chest at just how easily he’d fallen in.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Emma said, and Hook paused, his gaze falling to the ground before finding her face again. “We’re just gonna ignore the fact that your–your past self just dropped out of nowhere?”

“That was my plan, aye,” he answered. “Unless you’d like to put Henry’s rescue mission on pause and give Pan that much more time to dig his claws in?”

The others hesitated. Emma scrutinized him in that way she had.

“I believe we still have a shadow to collect, yes?” he reminded her, gesturing to Neal’s satchel where the coconut shell trap was. If she would just stop looking at him like that…

“Fine.” Sheathing her sword over her back, she then said, “I’ll go with Neal to Dark Hollow to get the shadow. Mom, Dad, you’ll find Tinkerbell, and we’ll meet back up by her place once we’ve got the shadow.”

“And what about them?” David asked, sheathing his own blade and probably trying to ignore his wife not looking at him. “I was just getting used to one pirate around, I’m not sure I want to deal with two.”

Hook restrained the dramatic eye roll he wanted to perform as he waited for Killian’s all-too-predictable reaction. “Pirate?” There it was. The familiar tones of learned self-righteousness. Liam would have been so proud. “I am not some common thief, Your Highness,” Killian said sharply, taking a step away from Hook, his hand drifting towards the handle of his sword. “I am Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm and an officer of the King’s Navy, not a pirate.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“I’d just as soon accompany Emma to get the shadow,” Hook offered, brushing past the interaction in hopes he wouldn’t have to talk about why his past and present selves currently wanted to kill each other.

“No, hang on.” Emma shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. “How do you know you don’t need to stay with him so your past self doesn’t die and Back to the Future you out of existence?”

Everyone except Neal stared blankly at her. He translated. “We don’t know that if something happens to him–” he gestured to Killian– “it won’t affect you too. Because–he’s you.”

“He’s not me!” Killian exclaimed, taking another step away. “This–this is some kind of magical trick–it’s not–”

The small thread of control restraining Hook to civility finally burned through as another flare of loathing jumped in his gut. “You are bloody useless here,” he snapped, “so unless you’ve got hidden magical abilities or a way off this damn island, I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you ever want to see Liam again!”

With a whir of metal on metal, Killian drew his cutlass, but Hook had recognized the familiar dark glower on his face moments ago, and had his drawn and moving before his much younger self could even react. In a few choice motions, Killian was disarmed and pressed face-first against a tree with a hook aimed at his neck.

“That’s enough!” Emma’s sharp call made something in Hook’s chest cringe. He hadn’t wanted her to see that in him. He’d been trying so hard, but then this idiot–

He let out a quiet breath through his nose and lowered his head. As he slowly released his hold on Killian, the latter shook him off and scrambled several steps away. David moved in front of him, sword raised in guard. Predictable.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demanded, Neal’s cutlass raised at him.

Hook sheathed his cutlass again. “May I please accompany you and Neal to Dark Hollow to capture the shadow?” he asked, looking somewhere in the direction of her boots.

Her mother spoke up before she got the chance to answer. “After that, why would I want you going anywhere with my daughter?” Her bow and arrow were back in her more than capable hands, although at the moment, it was aimed at his toes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure either one of you can sail the Jolly Roger once we have the shadow, right?” David followed up. “Right now, I’m liking the lieutenant more than the pirate.”

“You never liked the pirate,” Hook reminded him flatly.

Emma cut in. “Okay, okay, enough. Like Hook said, we’re on a schedule.” She handed the cutlass over to Neal and stepped towards him. “Whatever this is,” she said, glancing at Killian, “you need to deal with it. On your own time.”

He couldn’t deny his heart sank. He’d had a feeling it would end up like this ever since Pan had told him Neal was alive and on Neverland. Part of him–perhaps the part of him more like Killian than he would like to admit–had hoped if he was just good enough, he might stand a chance.

“But we need to focus on Henry right now,” she continued. “And you know your way around the island, so if one of us doesn’t make it back, you can get the shadow back to the others. Killian can go with my parents.”

“So…”

“So you’re coming with me. As long as you both are going to behave yourselves,” she added, giving stern looks to Neal and himself.

Hook nodded, relaxing a bit. “As you wish, then.”

-scene break-

Emma was disappointed, again, he could tell. It wasn’t like he had planned to have a disagreement with Neal going into this mission. But then again, he hadn’t exactly been planning on facing down his younger self today either. He wasn’t in his best of moods, and seeing Rumplestiltskin out of the blue had done little to help that fact. But at least he’d brought a way to defeat Pan, and now they had the shadow as well.

Hook had jumped at the opportunity for first watch outside the camp. If his enthusiasm to get out and away from them all showed a bit too much, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Mary Margret and David had come back from their trek seemingly at peace from their earlier argument after Echo Cave. Emma and Regina had refocused on helping each other save Henry. Neal would do whatever it took to help his son, and Tinkerbell had had quite the change of heart now that a way off the island was in her sights. Even Rumplestiltskin, even the Crocodile, seemed oddly tranquil, constantly turning Pandora’s Box in his hands.

Worst of all, Killian seemed quite content to follow after Dave and Mary Margret–just like he followed Liam, Hook knew. It was obvious to him, but it seemed a pleasant surprise to everyone else. Everyone except Regina and Rumplestiltskin, the only other villains on this trip.

So, yes, he’d taken the first offer to get the hell out of camp, where he was now, trying not to think about what Emma and Killian might have been talking about with Neal when he’d seen them last. It was probably nothing.

It probably wasn’t Emma preferring to talk to the version of him with no ulterior motive and a distinct lack of romantic interest in her.

Rustling leaves behind him made him turn quickly, but his caution soon faded. It was Killian. Silently bracing himself for the grating exchange sure to follow, he asked, “Where are you off to, sailor?”

Killian eyed him with no small amount of caution in return as he answered. “Collecting firewood.”

An excuse to be even farther from camp? That was attractive. “I could do that. You can fill in for me until I get back.”

“I’m perfectly capable of collecting firewood, pirate.”

There is was. “You could just call me Hook like everyone else does, regardless of how much they hate me.”

Killian stared at him, and it was quite unnerving to recognize the piercing expression he himself had spent so long perfecting. “You really think you have any chance with Emma?”

Hook clenched his jaw shut, clamping down on the first curse words coming to mind. Did he think he had a chance? Sure, before this idiot had showed up and brought into sharp relief just how far he had to go.

“A man who’s probably spent the past–well, I don’t know how long in a life of thievery and murder on the high seas? If you’d spent one second listening to her, you’d have figured out she’s more concerned with rescuing her son than with anything you have to offer.”

“I did listen,” Hook said before he could go on (and on and on). “Why in hell do you think I offered my ship to bring them all here? And back?”

“That’s the bare minimum!” Killian shot back. “There’s a boy in danger, his parents asked you for help, it shouldn’t be a song and dance to offer it. You do it because it’s right, Hook.”

That hurt. And Killian had meant it to. He gave a last disdainful look, then turned to continue on his way into the jungle, drawing his cutlass to cut away vines. Hook watched him disappear in the foliage, and it struck him that Killian hadn’t ever asked what had happened to him into what he was today. Knowing him (and he did), hearing it made the possibility real. Killian wanted to pretend he could never become him. Hook could understand that. And he hated that he understood.

After a few seconds of relative quiet, Hook was again on alert when more footsteps sounded from camp. But it was worse than Killian this time, because it was Emma. Of course, it was Emma, because this was Neverland: cruel tricks and toying with emotions were her specialties.

“Hey.”

He found a tree to lean his back against so he didn’t have to face her. “Is it time to switch?”

She blinked, then shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face briefly. “No, not yet. I was just um…. Well. It’s not every day your past self drops into your life without warning, so.” She gestured with a hand, but didn’t finish the sentence.

He stared at her–something he had been trying not to do as often, but now he couldn’t help himself. “Are you checking in on me, Swan?”

Emma shrugged. “Sure.”

Something bright and hopeful made an attempt to squeeze its way into his heart, but he shoved it away. “Why?”

“I just said why.”

“Right, the landmark event of spontaneous time-travel,” he said. “Not the fact that I’m stuck in arguably my least favorite place in the world, actively going against one of the more powerful enemies I’ve made to rescue a boy I’ve only met recently. And, of course, in order to do that, I’m working with the man I’ve spent the better part of two centuries hunting down for my revenge.” He pushed off the tree to face her. “So forgive me if I’m wondering: why now?”

Emma pressed her lips together and nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. But… you slammed his face into a tree, Hook.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone meant for that to happen,” she said, taking a step towards him. “But seriously, why do you two hate each other so much?”

He laughed, short and humorless. “Oh, that’s fairly simple,” he said. “He hates that I’m a pirate, and I hate that he’s not. There you are.” He hated lying to her. And of course, she could always tell.

Like now, as her mouth tilted down at one corner and one of her eyebrows arched upward. “Simple? Nothing about what’s between you two is simple, Hook. I can see that much.”

She was right. There was nothing simple here. There was nothing simple about the horrible, hopeful thing clawing at his heart when he spoke to her. Nothing simple could explain the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d first noticed it. There was nothing simple about the sharp flare of hatred he’d felt upon recognizing his past self. He really wasn’t sure anything could explain it, no matter how many words he used or how long it took.

He’d spent decades upon decades mired in darkness. After being dragged down by Liam’s death he found himself reveling in it, painting his face with it, soaking in the freedom that came from it. He’d always known he would never be the good man his brother had been–even the Killian that had appeared today knew that, for all his bluster about “good form” and being “King’s men.” That Killian looked at him and saw a man who had stopped fighting, who had fallen back to the darkness with a shameless splash of black, and was, in his eyes, thriving in it.

But he wasn’t thriving. Losing Liam had broken his heart, but losing Milah had killed something in him. The part of him that had reveled in evil, in being as bad as he wanted, in the freedom he’d gained from ignoring consequences, had died with her. The darkness had clung to him, feeling heavier than it had before, so he had become harsher just to keep carrying it. He killed without thinking, he flicked the blood off his blade or hook without a glance, where once he’d made a show of it. He looked around at his crew, at the people they conquered, and he felt nothing. He hadn’t felt human in…

And never once had he looked up to notice or to care about how far he’d fallen, how blackened and numb his heart had become.

Not until Emma.

Emma was a marvel. It had taken him some time to see it, but once he had, he had almost been shocked he’d missed her at all. It was as if he’d glimpsed her, high at the top of a staircase. There was something captivating about her, in her sincerity, in her decision, over and over, no matter the tragedies thrown at her, to choose hope. To choose good.

And he’d been climbing those stairs ever since, one foot ahead of the other, one step at a time, to reach her. It was hard. He’d slipped, multiple times. But he’d picked himself back up and kept climbing. She’d kissed him, and he’d thought he might actually have a chance at reaching the top of the staircase.

Then today had happened.

First, they’d rescued Neal in the Echo Caves, and that had been like someone shining a light on the steps he’d been climbing and revealing the dirty, black footprints he’d been leaving behind him ever since he’d dragged himself out of the darkness beneath.

Then Killian. Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm.

The best he’d ever been, in many respects.

And that had made Hook stop and look down, and it was like he’d only climbed three steps. He was still dripping darkness. The steps were slippery with it, like blood on the deck after battle. And Emma was still so, so far above him.

He hated Killian because he was human. Flawed, but human. He looked at a clear sky and he felt content, not nothing. He looked at a storm and he felt a thrill of determined anticipation, not nothing. He looked at children playing and he felt amusement, not nothing. He looked at himself in a mirror and he might even feel pride, not nothing. He saw death happen and he felt grief, not the maelstrom-like pull of darkness to fall down, down, down…

But the problem was, Hook wasn’t feeling nothing anymore. Whatever part of his humanity that had died with Milah–it wasn’t dead anymore. It was awake, and it was feeling. He watched Emma smile and he felt something. He saw her devotion to her family and he felt something. He didn’t want to put a name to what he was feeling yet, only that it wasn’t nothing. It was bright and sharp and warm, and it felt… human.

Hook looked back to where Emma was still waiting for a further explanation. He wasn’t ready to explain all of that to her. Hell, there were still bits he didn’t understand himself. And, clearly, this was neither the time or place to tell her that anyway. Echo Caves had proven that.

So he sighed and rubbed his jaw. “I’ve lived a long life, Emma,” he said. “Most of it hasn’t been particularly pleasant. Killian there–” he gestured off into the jungle where his younger self had disappeared a few moments earlier– “he’s at a high point. And I’m sure you can figure out what high points put in perspective.”

Emma followed his gesture, looking into the underbrush for a moment. Eventually, she nodded, and something in her expression made him feel she might actually understand that. “Right. Well… if you two can keep it together until we get back to Storybrooke, that would be… appreciated.”

“Of course,” he replied. “And I… I apologize for what happened in Dark Hollow.”

Her eyebrows rose a bit, but she quickly schooled her face to something more impassive. “Thank you.” She gave a small smile that made something in his chest ache.

Yes, he still wanted her. He still wanted to figure out what exactly she made him feel and how exactly she did it, but he would have to be patient. He could wait a bit longer.

“And, just between you and me,” Emma said, closing the distance between them to something far more intimate than he had expected, although he wouldn’t complain, “he’s probably a lousy kisser.”

That… had not been expected. It took a couple seconds for his brain to kick back into function after hearing it, then he laughed. He laughed because it was true, he knew it was true, and because hearing her reference their kiss in a positive light made the almost painful tension around it in his mind relax all at once.

Emma laughed too, and it was a beautiful sound and sight.

When he had regained his composure, Hook cleared his throat and said, “Well, speaking from experience, he most definitely is.”

“Yeah?” she asked with an intoxicating smile. They were still standing only a foot or so apart.

He raised an eyebrow at her in mock severity, suddenly feeling light enough to mock. “Aye, and I’ll ask you take my word for it, and not to go performing experiments behind my back, hm?”

“Of course not,” she said seriously, putting her hands in her back pockets. She let a beat pass before adding, “I don’t like ponytails on guys, anyway.” When he gave another quiet laugh, she went on, “I mean seriously, no offense to your past self, but it looks awful. Your brother really let you get away with that?”

That new warm, bright feeling was again trying to squeeze its way between his ribs to his heart, and if Emma kept that smile up, it might succeed. “Suppose I hadn’t grown into my dashing good looks yet. Lucky you.”

Her smile grew a little, and she aimed a light punch at his shoulder. “There he is.”

“What?”

“I dunno, you hadn’t flirted with me in like, four hours. I was starting to worry.”

He smiled at that, very aware of being happier than he had been in a long while. “What, did you miss it, love?” he asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Mm… maybe.”

Well, while she was in a good mood: “Any chance of a demonstration of how much you missed it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nope,” she said, raising a hand to his cheek and gently pushing his face away. “Not that much.” She stepped back, leaving him to enjoy the impression of warmth left behind by her touch. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Likewise,” he replied, recognizing she had been happier knowing they had a plan against Pan and a way off Neverland. “But thank you. For checking in.”

“Don’t mention it.” She drifted back the way she had come, finally saying, “My dad will be out in a bit to change watch, so… see you in a bit.”

He nodded back and watched her disappear in the foliage as she returned to camp. Smiling to himself, he raised his hand to graze the back of his knuckles where her hand had laid against his cheek. Damn. It was love, wasn’t it?

[zaharadessert]

The Heart of the Saviour (7/12)

Rating: Mature to start with, some later chapters will probably end up being explicit.

Warnings: Abduction, Ransom, Mortal Peril.

Summary: One night, in every corner of every magical realm, every boy aged nine to seventeen disappeared. Not one remained. That was when Pan made himself known to the realms, and from that night the eve of every boy’s ninth birthday meant their disappearance, until finally the realms demanded to know what he wanted to return their children to them. Pan told them he wanted the saviour, and while most realms were confused Snow and David knew what he meant and confessed the role their daughter was supposed to have played in breaking the curse. The realms voted and agreed to Pan’s terms, and Pan stopped taking the realms sons, holding the children he’d currently taken as insurance of their compliance. 

For the next fifteen years Emma’s birthday wasn’t a celebration, it was another tick on the countdown clock to the end of her freedom. Not that she was ever free in the first place, but to save every male child in the United Realms including her younger brother, Leo… She understood that she had a job to do, and she would do her duty with her head held high. What she didn’t count on was the sparkling blue eyes of the man Pan sends to escort her to Neverland in time for her twenty-first birthday.

Notes: Moving on from the last cliffhanger, I'd like to thank everyone who has commented and let me know what they think about the story so far. I've loved some of the theories about what Pan wants from Emma (some of which I never considered so that was fun!) but none of you are right so far! Thank you again to @kmomof4​ for betaing this absolute monster... though I have to say how incredibly proud of myself I am for making you break out of your beta-head mode with hate for Pan. Ooops? Thanks to the @neverlandnewyear​ mods for running the event! Things are still pretty dire for the next couple of chapters, so please do be prepared for mind games and manipulation. Enjoy?! Link to AO3 is down there somewhere!

Tagging: @jrob64​ @xhookswenchx​ @kmomof4​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @superchocovian​ @lfh1226-linda​ @teamhook​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @tiganasummertree​ @onceratheart18​ @snowbellewells​ @karlyfr13s​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @ouatpost​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @winterbaby89​ @thepirateandhisson​ @xarandomdreamx​ @xsajx​ @captainswan21​ @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza​ @sparlecorn93​ @hollyethecurious​ @anmylica​

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Read on AO3: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

- - - - -

“I’m sorry, Tink,” he hissed, turning to look at her, seeing the tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry too, Hook,” she replied, and he could see the misery and regret in her eyes now, realising she’d been wearing a mask all these years, just like he had. “I should have told you to run while you had the chance.” She let out a cough, groaning as the vines tightened around her chest too.

“What, lass? Leave you here to deal with Pan on your own? Not bloody likely,” he told her with a groan.

“Who knew pirates could be sentimental,” Roland snarked, coughing as he did so.

“Who knew royal guards could be such upstart, insufferable whelps,” he growled back.

“Upstart?” Roland challenged.

“Aye, because apparently you have just as many regrets as we do…” Killian panted as the vine tightened even more.

“But I…” Roland ground out, his voice choked and strained. “I don’t…” he admitted and Killian, with a vine now around his neck restricting his movement, strained to look at the boy. “I may have made mistakes, but all of them got me here, doing everything I can to save Emma. How can I regret that?” he explained.

“Then fight you imbecile, you’re the only one who can!” Killian rasped breathlessly against the press of the vine at his neck.

Killian could feel Roland pulling against the vines, felt as if something in the magic holding them there started to give, and suddenly, the crushing pressure around his chest and neck was gone, and he could breathe.

He and Tink stumbled away from the tree. Killian caught himself on a nearby rock and coughed violently at the sudden influx of oxygen making his head swim. After a minute or so, Killian looked up at Roland who had recovered a hell of a lot quicker than either he or Tink.

“What are you waiting for? Up you go…” he said, gesturing at the tree with his empty brace.

“Uh, what am I looking for?” Roland asked as he started to plan his way up the enormous tree.

“Bright pink flower in a cluster of bright green leaves. Pick one and bring the whole thing down,” Tink told him.

“And you two are just going to sit here and wait?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at them.

“No, I’m going to look for my hook,” Killian replied testily. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that Roland was the only one of them who could get up the tree without the risk of being strangled by murderous vines, Killian would have wondered why the hell they’d brought him along.

He was sure Roland wasn’t a complete idiot, but he couldn’t help wondering exactly where his smarts lay for asking all of these bloody stupid questions.

He watched Roland for a moment, sitting on the rock with Tink next to him as they continued to catch their breath. Killian's arm was throbbing worse than before now, but he wasn’t going to admit it, not even to Tink who was looking at him almost knowingly.

“What it must be like to not have regrets,” she mused aloud.

“I don’t think I’ve ever not regretted anything,” he replied darkly, melancholy sinking into his bones.

Even after all this, even if they did manage to save Emma, she would still deserve better than him. He was nothing but a broken pirate with a drinking problem. Why would she want him when she could have someone healthy and whole and unburdened, like Roland?

With a scowl firmly set in his features, he pushed himself to his feet and started to comb the dirt and brush on the side of the clearing where Pan had so carelessly thrown his hook. They heard Roland whoop with victory from up the tree, and Killian rolled his eyes. Did he want to call Pan back here, letting him know they’d survived?

Roland was halfway back down the tree when Killian was finally locking the hook into its place in his brace with a relieved sigh. He was glad he’d found it. He’d felt incomplete without it there despite the fact that when he could see it, it only served to remind him of the myriad of mistakes that littered his past.

Roland’s boots hit the ground with a thud and he held out the flower to Tink with a smile.

“Good job, kid,” she said with a smile as she pulled a small cloth out of her pocket. She wrapped the flower up into a pouch secured with a strip of leather which she then put back in her pocket. “Okay, where to now?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Tiger Lily?” Roland asked, but Killian shook his head.

“If we’re here, alive, when he brings her back, he’ll just try and stop us again. If we’re already gone, he’ll just try and be cryptic about it, like he planned for us to escape. And there’s always the chance we didn’t get what we came for…” he reasoned. Pan would be angry and they risked a swift death if they were here to face it.

“He’s right,” Tink offered. “We’d best get started. It’ll be dark soon and we’ll need to make camp and get some rest before long,” she added and turned to lead them back out of the pixie woods in the direction of Pan’s camp.

Killian couldn’t help but wonder what Pan had Tiger Lily doing, when she would find her way back to them, if she ever did. He just hoped that they weren’t heading in the wrong direction to find Emma, that Pan hadn’t decided to keep her somewhere other than his camp.

- - - - -

Read the rest on AO3

[caught-in-the-filter]

Emma Was Cold

A Neverland smut fic for @neverlandnewyear​ and @csjanuaryjoy​

Summary: Emma Swan finds that Neverland nights get surprisingly cold. Luckily, Captain Hook has some experience in keeping warm.

4006 Words; Rated: E; AO3

A/N: This is basically Neverland PWP. It was inspired by something I commented in the CS Movie Marathon Discord a while back, and I never expected to actually write the thing myself. This is the first full smut fic I’m publicly posting with one of my urls attached, so I’m both excited and scared to share it. First, I need to give a huge shoutout to all the lovely people on the CSMM, CSNLNY, and CSJJ Discords for all their encouragement and assistance while I struggled to write this fic. Special shoutouts to @teamhook​, @kmomof4​, @hollyethecurious​, and @donteattheappleshook​ for reviewing bits of the doc for me as I went along and being super supportive, and especially to Maddie for also giving it a last minute full review once I finished it and helping me with edits. Also a big thank you to the mods for running these amazing events and for working together to allow us to cross-post between the two.

Alright, here we go....

——

“Are you alright, Swan?” Hook asked as he turned toward Emma to find her shivering where she lay a few feet away from him, his question prompted by the fact that he could actually hear the clacking sound of her teeth chattering.

“I’m f-fine,” Emma answered, curling further into herself as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms beneath the threadbare blanket that provided her with such little warmth. Who’d have thought Neverland would get so cold at night? She wished she’d worn more than a thin tank top, which served her well during the blazing heat of the day but offered no protection from the cool temperatures she faced now.

“Are you sure?” he prodded with a smirk, “If you’d like me to keep you warm, love, you need only ask. I’d be more than willing to—”

“I said I’m fine,” Emma snapped, “and I’m not your love.”

“Suit yourself.” Hook rolled back onto his side. “Like everything else on this island, Neverland nights are not kind. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

——

Emma was cold, so cold that she couldn’t stop shaking despite her best efforts. Tensing only made it worse, but she just couldn’t relax either. She cursed herself under her breath, knowing she shouldn’t give in but desperate for the rest she knew she’d never find in such a state.

“Hook?” she whispered, padding over to where he lay apart from the rest, half hoping he would already be asleep.

“Hm?” He turned toward her once more, the smirk returning to his face and burning a hole right through her.

Emma wondered if the embarrassment that set fire to her cheeks would be enough to warm her, but she’d already gained his attention.

“Did you have a change of heart then, love?” Hook questioned. “Are you ready to warm up to me? Or with me, I should say.”

“Nevermind,” Emma rolled her eyes and stepped away from him in annoyance, hoping he couldn’t see her shivering.

“Swan—”

“No.”

“Swan, please look at me,” he pleaded, more softly than she’d have expected. She turned toward him impatiently, ready to go off on him if necessary, but found a gentle look in his eyes and let him continue.

“I may be a bit brash when it comes to making my interest known, Emma, but I assure you I am nothing if not a gentleman. Neverland is a cruel place and I would not wish to make it any more so. If we are to share warmth in a strictly practical manner, so be it.” He waved her over to him, his hooked arm outstretched in invitation to serve as her pillow. “You need rest, and I won’t let you freeze to death in your sleep before we rescue your boy.”

Emma approached him with caution, hesitating before she sat and turned her back to him as she rested her head on his arm. She wondered how he could sleep in that leather duster of his, but as he held her close, pressing his chest flush against her back but making a point to turn his hips away from her, and draped the thick material of the coat over her as well, she realized just how comfortable it actually was. She wouldn’t admit to the sudden and surprising sense of calm that washed over her as she settled next to him, but in the unexplainable safety, it didn’t take long before she was sound asleep.

——

Though it was still dark when she awoke, Emma felt as refreshed as if she’d had a full night’s sleep, a feeling and a feat she hadn’t achieved in a very long time. She huffed out a breath with a roll of her eyes when she realized she’d been pinned by Hook’s other arm which curled loosely around her middle. He must have turned in his sleep, somehow gently enough to not wake her. Her instincts said to shove him away, but he had been decent enough to respect her boundaries in his offer. And, after all, she was much warmer this way, which was the whole point of moving closer together.

He suddenly shifted in his sleep again, and Emma gasped when she felt his clothed warmth brush against her denim-clad ass. Wait, was he actually hard?! Before she could stop herself, Emma let out an involuntary moan when he rubbed against her again and she immediately froze, wide-eyed and praying he didn’t hear her as all the heat they’d shared travelled south, save for that which reddened her cheeks. After a moment had passed without a reaction from him, she allowed herself to relax again, only to be suddenly pulled closer to him.

“Sounds like you liked that, Swan?” Hook remarked and rolled his hips ever so slightly. She could sense the shit-eating grin returning to his smug face.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he did it again before she responded, “Please, you couldn’t handle it,” and returned the motion, surprising him with the unexpected reciprocation.

“I do love a challenge. But tell me something, love,” he said, his hand traveling down towards her waistband, passing over the zipper and slipping between her thighs as his lips hovered over her neck and his hot breath seared her flesh, “can you handle staying quiet?” He lifted her leg and draped it over his own, giving himself the space to cup her through her jeans. “Everyone else is still asleep, and in any case it’s still too dark to journey on.” He placed a kiss just below her ear and continued, his voice a low growl just above a whisper, “Just say the word, I can help you ease your mind for a while.” The corner of his lips twitched upward as he teasingly flexed his fingers against her and added, “And the ache you might be feeling, if that moan were any indication.”

Emma silently cursed herself for letting that sound escape from her lips, and once more for what she knew she was about to give in to so quickly. He was right, she could use a distraction from her racing mind now that she was more awake again, and he was a damn tempting one. Her breath hitched when he caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged, eliciting another soft moan from deep within her, and her decision was made.

“Yes.”

“Yes what, love?” he asked, nosing down her neck until his mouth latched onto the space between it and her shoulder, nipping and sucking her flesh and laving over it with his tongue.

“Yes, I can stay quiet.” Her hand reached up to find purchase in his hair, encouraging him to continue his claim of her collarbone. “Yes, I want you to ease my… well, everything.” He chuckled at that, the vibration of his laughter against her skin sending a chill down her spine.

“As you wish.” Hook wasted no time popping the button on Emma’s jeans, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his hand beneath the denim. “Oh?” He said, his eyebrow raised in wonder at the soft, thin material covering his goal. He rubbed his fingers over it, feeling her arousal soaking through it as he teased her. “You certainly do.” Hook pushed her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her.

“Ohh fuck,” Emma choked back another moan, the sinful sounds as he plunged them into her dripping core again and again filling the air instead. His rings bit into her skin with every thrust, the cool metal a jarring, yet welcome counter to the hot friction they were creating. She rocked her hips to meet him each time, and his breathing grew ragged as he rutted himself against the curve of her ass in synchrony. As Emma’s movements grew frantic, Hook’s slowed to a stop, and Emma groaned in protest when he removed his fingers from inside her, dragging them through her folds to brush her clit for just a moment.

“Not yet, Swan.” Hook carefully slipped his arm out from beneath her head and gently turned her towards himself so that she lay on her back. Getting to his knees and stripping off his duster, he knelt between her spread legs. “I’m a fan of every part of you, and I intend to show you just how much of a fan I am.” 

He slipped his hooked arm beneath her tank only to find his access to her breasts blocked by another bit of material. Lifting the top to reveal the offending garment, he looped his prosthetic beneath it, the tip of the hook scraping against her skin as he did, and tugged. He noted that the small scrap of fabric differed from the corsets he was used to removing from women he’d bedded in the past but assumed it would be no less easy to snap than the laces he’d encountered on them.

“Hey!” Emma caught his wrist before he could succeed in his efforts. “I need this! Let me just….” She sat up for a moment to take off her tank top and undo the clasps at her back so she could toss her bra aside. “There.”

“Apologies, love,” Hook said, “and thank you.” He guided her back down with his hand just beneath her now exposed breast, thumbing at her tightening nipple as his mouth tended to the other. “Bloody magnificent, these are,” he mumbled against her as he teased them to stiff peaks. Emma tried to relax as the throbbing between her legs became almost unbearable and she longed for more friction to soothe it.

When he was at last satisfied, Hook released her nipple from his mouth with a resounding pop, flicked it a few times with the curve of his hook for good measure, and gave the same treatment to the other, relishing the way she squirmed beneath him as he nibbled and sucked and kneaded.

Emma gasped when the cold air rushed over her wet skin as Hook finished with her breasts and slid his body lower between her legs, trailing sloppy kisses down her abdomen along the way until he reached the top of her jeans.

Glancing up at her, he kept his eyes on hers as he gently tucked his fingers and hook just under the edge of her waistband.

“May I?” he asked, waiting for her approval to proceed.

“Yes,” she answered, “god, yes.” He grinned at that and very slowly tugged her jeans down her legs, distracted by the view of the place where his hand had been, covered only by the thin strip of fabric that had grown damp beneath his touch, pausing for a moment to slip off her boots when he reached them before removing the denim completely.

“You,” Hook said as he took in the sight of her almost completely naked form, “are absolutely stunning, Swan.” He scanned her body a moment longer, watching the blush spread over her cheeks and across her chest as she flushed pink under his desirous scrutiny. He nosed along the creases of her thighs and up the material that hid his goal before taking the top hem between his teeth, pulling it down until it hung from his mouth and letting it fall beside her on the blanket beneath them.

Fuck, that was hot, Emma thought to herself as she watched him lower his head and raise his hungry gaze to hers. The smirk on his face made her wonder for a moment if she had actually said it out loud.

Any concern she had about her comment was swept away as he gently flattened his tongue against her slick flesh, never breaking eye contact as he slowly licked an inquisitive stripe along her folds, dipping it between them just enough to pass over her clit before departing. The shiver that passed through her whole body at the contact was enough to make him do it twice more before diving in as deep as he could and mapping her inner walls with his tongue. He mumbled soft praises as he worked her—“Delicious…. Exquisite…. Divine….”—without ever fully pulling away to say them, too lost in the taste of her, as if he couldn’t get enough and didn’t want to lose even a drop of her essence. Soon he found the spot that made her hips buck and her thighs pull together, pressing against the sides of his head, and he reintroduced his fingers inside her as he licked at the spot relentlessly, knowing she grew ever closer to her release.

His scruff raked against her skin as her legs locked around him, her heels digging into his back, and she knew the raw streaks of raised red would burn later as they continued through Neverland on foot. But with the way he was making her feel in that moment, she figured it would be worth it.

The shaking overtook her suddenly and her back arched as he gave a particularly strong suck on her clit, and she came as he continued to fuck her with his hand and mouth. He reached up to silence her by pressing the curve of his hook to her lips as an overwhelmed cry caught in her throat. Taking the prosthetic into her mouth, she gently bit down on it and laved over it with her tongue to distract herself from the way he tended to her dripping core in kind. He lapped at her entrance until her waves of pleasure receded and she relaxed against the blanket, their chests heaving in an attempt to catch their breaths. He crawled over her body, hovering above her looking absolutely wrecked before he’d even been touched, his chin glistening with her release and his eyes blown wide with insatiable desire.

Their mouths crashed together and he laced his fingers through her golden locks while her hands anchored in the hair at the nape of his neck. She tasted herself on him as she traced his lips with her tongue and opened hers in invitation for his further exploration.

“You, my wanton lass, are far from quiet.” Hook attacked Emma’s lips with his own, her false rebuttal lost before it could be voiced as his tongue dipped between them and pulled her bottom lip between his teeth upon its retreat.

Emma hadn’t seen him reach for the panties he’d discarded next to her earlier until he pulled away and sat back on his haunches as he replaced his tongue with the wet scrap of material.

“Any other time, I’d love nothing more than to hear how I make you feel, but given the circumstances…,” he trailed off with a glance in the direction of their slumbering company not too far away, before returning his gaze to Emma with a smirk. “Luckily, there are ways to assist you.” He leaned over her once more to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps another time we can meet on my ship, sail far from the shore, just the two of us, and I’ll make you produce all manner of sounds for only me to hear. Hm?”

If he were expecting an answer, Emma couldn’t give him one. She told herself this was a one-time thing, just a way to blow off some steam and clear her head before the next long stretch of their journey through this land of mysterious horrors she wished she’d never have had to encounter like this. She wished Neverland could have stayed a story, though she wouldn’t admit out loud that she did prefer this real version of the fearsome Captain Hook.

Well, that and she now had a mouthful of cotton.

Emma watched as he unlaced his trousers, and she found herself unable to look away when he took himself in hand and passed the tip of his cock along her folds, aligning himself with her entrance before he stopped.

“Swan?” Hook said, bringing her out of her distracted stupor and calling her attention to his searching eyes, all of his bravado gone and replaced with a serious, patient tone. “Emma, are you sure?”

She hadn’t expected him to ask again, and that consideration for her wishes she hadn’t often encountered, paired with his rare use of her first name, only increased her desire to say yes. Unable to actually speak it, she held his gaze, hoping hers looked just as soft, and gently brushed her fingers down his cheek before she trailed them down his arms and gripped his hips with an encouraging nod.

Emma bit down hard on her makeshift gag and her head lolled back as he slowly sheathed himself inside her, the stretch burning in the best way with every inch as her body responded to his entrance with slick heat until he was fully seated within her. The feel of her around him took his breath away, and Hook braced himself on his elbows at either side of her as his head fell forward next to hers and he panted over her shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking perfect,” Hook whispered in her ear through gritted teeth. He finally began to move, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he pulled back and slid home again and again. She pivoted her hips to meet him with each thrust, feeling a euphoric fullness every time she took him in deep that left her softly whimpering in protest upon his retreats.

It was too much and not enough and just right all at once. Emma’s hands slipped beneath Hook’s shirt and she raked her nails up and down his back before digging them into his flesh as she scrabbled for purchase to steady herself beneath him, and to draw him ever closer to her.

Her mouth grew dry as the material between her teeth absorbed what little moisture wasn’t being expelled from her body in arousal and sweat. She wanted to kiss him, but even if she could, his mouth was otherwise engaged, sucking a mark into the side of her neck before tonguing at the hollow of her throat on its way to brand her collarbone. She couldn’t be bothered to care if anyone would see the evidence of his claim, not while he was giving her nothing but pleasure as his hips snapped with purpose.

“Come for me, Emma.” Hook’s fingers returned to her clit to circle and tease it as they both neared their releases. “Let me feel you come on my cock.” He groaned louder than he meant to when her hands cupped his ass through his trousers. “I won’t last much longer, love.”

He almost lost it when she gripped him tighter and nodded with a downward glance before meeting and holding his gaze.

“Fuck, Emma,” he breathed, a lightheadedness overtaking him as everything inside him tensed and he slammed into her with abandon. Looping his hook under the edge of her panties that peeked out from between her lips, he tugged the material to remove it without wasting time to toss it aside, letting it drape over his prosthetic as he filled her mouth with his tongue instead in a hot slide.

“Killian,” she moaned in a whisper against his eager lips, finally able to speak to some extent as he ravished both her mouth and her aching core.

“What?” He said in breathless surprise, unsure of whether he’d heard her correctly or imagined it with his own pulse pounding in his head, his hungry and frantic eyes flitting from side to side as they searched hers. A soft smile spread across his face. That was the first word she’d spoken, not even his more colorful moniker she’d been accustomed to using, but—

“Killian,” she called him by his name again, feeling that same dizzy high he felt as she rocked forward into him. “Yes. Yes.”

Something inside him snapped, and he muffled his pleasured cries against her lips as he poured himself inside her, relentlessly thumbing at her clit to bring her to release. A rush of heat spread through her body as his cock pulsed inside her, and her walls fluttered around him as she rose and fell with him.

He pulled back for a moment and caught the thick whitish fluid that dripped from her core with the tip of his cock before pushing it deeper inside her with a desperate grunt until they both finally slowed their movements to a stop.

“That was—” Hook, the man full of innuendos, fell speechless as he carefully held himself above her, propped up on his elbows, and let his forehead drop to hers as he panted with hot breath over her lips.

A one-time thing, Emma wanted so badly to say, but she had trouble even believing herself then. The way he made her feel, the way she knew he felt, the way they felt together. None of it felt like a one-time thing. She knew what those were, but this right here with him, this could be so much more. And it both thrilled and terrified her.

“I know,” she said instead, trying desperately to process everything that had just happened, and everything she might have wished would happen in the future, if they’d have a future at all. Would they?

She subtly shook her head in an attempt to clear it and pulled him to her for another kiss before she lifted her panties off his hook and pressed her other hand to his chest where it was exposed by the low neckline of his shirt and vest, following his body with hers as she guided him back so she could sit upright. Flattening the material over her palm, she passed it between her folds and stared into the depths of his ocean blue eyes as she rubbed the damp cotton over his wet cock, making his jaw drop as his breath hitched in his throat.

“We can’t leave a mess, now can we?” Emma smirked. Pumping him with her covered hand, she took his cock into her mouth, and he hissed when she passed her tongue over the tip and groaned around him at the taste as it leaked a bit more of his release.

“Gods, Emma,” Hook stuttered as he leaned back on his hand for support before he stilled her by catching her wrist with his hook, and she released him with a soft pop and a mischievous smirk as she looked up at him. “Keep doing that, love, and there’s going to be a much more obvious tell.”

“Fine,” she conceded with a sigh, getting to her feet and slipping on her wrecked panties with a taunting wiggle of her hips as she pulled them up under the weight of his entranced gaze until he realized he’d been staring and cast his eyes toward the ground. She’d probably feel it later, the sweltering heat of the Neverland sun bound to leave her feeling stickier than its induced sweat already would, but knowing he’d know that his effects on her would be keeping her wet long after they’d finished their more enjoyable activities… well, her own potential discomfort would be a cross she’d be willing to bear without regret.

She continued to get dressed, and he gave her the decency of turning his back to her as she did and as he righted himself as well, an admittedly unnecessary gesture after the rather indecent act they’d just committed together, but oddly endearing nonetheless.

“Here, love,” Hook picked up his duster and held it open in offering for her to wear, but she waved him off with a smile.

“I’m okay now, thanks. It suits you better anyway. And besides,” Emma winked at him, “I think I prefer sharing it.”

Hook swirled it around himself with a dramatic flair to put it on, tucked his hand and hook in the pockets, and reached out to enwrap Emma in the heavy leather with him, eliciting a giggle as he held her close.

She certainly wasn’t cold anymore.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me.  Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added. 

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul. 

     Rated M          8K          ao3           ffnet          Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet. 

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho. 

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already. 

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more. 

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle. 

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?” 

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly. 

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.” 

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set. 

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge. 

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent. 

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air. 

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her. 

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it. 

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up. 

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed. 

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?” 

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?” 

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted. 

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now. 

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst. 

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.” 

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

 His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline. 

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly. 

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him. 

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple. 

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

 “Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body.  “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?” 

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose. 

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation. 

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow.  “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.” 

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin. 

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.” 

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.” 

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day. 

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move. 

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.” 

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating. 

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough. 

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions. 

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.” 

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again. 

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father. 

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped. 

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.” 

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again. 

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said. 

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own. 

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth. 

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it. 

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter. 

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses. 

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow. 

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head. 

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command. 

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin. 

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?” 

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst. 

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

  Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back. 

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration. 

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined. 

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust. 

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again. 

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size. 

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit. 

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases. 

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear. 

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him. 

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?” 

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered. 

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation. 

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline. 

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor. 

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.” 

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”  

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered. 

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you. 

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard  @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap  @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes​

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned...

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming?

That's where I'll always love you... That's where I'll be waiting...

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I'd hold you in my heart 'till I can hold you in my arms...

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"The Pirate And The Princess" - Captain Swan Neverland AU made for @neverlandnewyear

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[elizabeethan]

Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 3/3

His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”

“Hook,” she tries again uselessly.

“Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.”

Hey! It’s @donteattheappleshook‘s birthday so I decided to post the last part of this story :) Also, we’re aware that we’re basically writing the same fic. That’s how this all started. so enjoy a double dose of Neverland nonsense. Originally posted for @neverlandnewyear

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being a kick ass beta and even better friend!

rated E for smut and language

~7400 words

Part 1, Part 2

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschazi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

She’s fine. Everything is totally and completely fine. Nothing is bothering her. 

 That’s what she tells herself when she sees Hook and Tink walk into Granny’s a week after his hardcore rejection of her. She nearly chews a hole through her straw. 

 “Mom,” Henry says, probably not for the first time, as he waves at her to get her attention. “Mom, I have to go to school.” 

 “Right, right, I know,” she responds, wiping her mouth with her napkin and scooting to the edge of the bench. 

 “You don’t have to walk me, you know.” 

 “I want to,” she says with a smile. She does want to, any chance she gets to spend time with her son is a gift. Any chance she gets to spend time away from Hook is also a gift. She walks to the register and notes Ruby’s gaze, deep and adoring as she stares in Hook’s direction. Of course. 

“Sorry,” she says once her attention is brought back. “Checking out?”

 “Yeah,” Emma grumbles, taking out her wallet and handing some cash to Ruby. 

 She sighs longingly as she counts the cash, hardly looking down, then says, “you guys were in Neverland together, huh?” 

 Emma rolls her eyes and takes her change, unable to answer before Henry calls for her from the door. She exits the diner, and it takes way too much effort to not look back at Hook as she does so. 

 By the time she gets to the station, her mood is less than sunny, but that doesn't stop her father from shouting, “good morning, sunshine!” as she walks in. 

 Mumbling a greeting in his direction, she sits at her desk and tries to ignore the anger bubbling up inside her. How could he move on that quickly? How could he tell her that he has feelings for her and then start hanging around with her? He knows she has walls, she just didn’t expect him to give up scaling them so quickly. She thought she meant more to him than that. 

 She isn’t sure why meaning more to him than that is so important to her.

 Sadness, she thinks. What she’s feeling isn’t anger, it’s sadness. She’s sad that she lost him. Sure, she’s mad at him for rejecting her, but she has to assume that the constant desire to break down and cry is more due to her sadness at their… well, it isn’t a breakup. 

 “Hon,” she hears from the office door, jumping back into reality with a start. “You got a minute?”

 “Sure,” she sighs, sitting back in her chair as David walks in and makes himself at home. 

 With a soft smile, he sits in the chair across from her and folds his hands over her crossed knees. “So,” he starts. “What’s up?” 

 She lets out a suspicious laugh, giving him a look of incredulity. “Not much, you?”

 David smiles again and shakes his head. “I mean what’s going on? What’s up with you lately?” 

 “Ah,” she laughs. “Just jumping right into it, are we?” 

 “More my style,” he explains, and she laughs again. “Emma, something’s clearly on your mind, and I think I know what it is.” 

 She looks up at him through her lashes shyly and shrugs. “I guess.” 

 “You’ve got a lot of pressure on you right now. And I’m sure a lot of people want you to make… difficult decisions.” 

 “It shouldn’t be this difficult,” she says without thinking much. But her father’s right. She is getting pressured from almost everyone she knows. She wants nothing more than to make Henry happy, but if it’s at the expense of her own happiness, is it worth it? Does thinking that way make her a bad mom? Is choosing her own happiness worth the backlash she’s sure to get? When did Hook become her happiness? “If you thought you were coming in here to tell me to be with Neal, don’t even bother.” 

 “Oh, I’m not here to push you in one direction or another. Just to tell you I understand.” 

 “You do?” 

 “Sure,” he shrugs. “You know who doesn’t? Your mother.” 

 She lets out a hearty laugh now, her first in weeks, and asks, “what makes you say that?” 

 “Well, she believes in your first love being your true love. She thinks that if you had love for Neal back then, then you must have love for him now.” 

 “I do,” she sighs. “But I can’t just…” 

 “You can’t trust him.” He isn’t even asking. She nods. “Because of your past?” 

 “Yeah,” she says, her voice small and weak as she thinks of all that they’ve been through. All that he put her through.

 “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She slumps back into her chair and lets out a groan, thrusting her fingers into her hair and tugging just slightly. David laughs softly but waits with gentle patience. 

 “It was… I was homeless. I was on the run after leaving a foster home.” She knows that the way she starts the story surprises her father, but he lets her continue without interrupting. “I broke into a car, and it turns out he had already stolen it; that’s how we met. And I was so young and naive, and I never really had anyone who cared for me like that before, so I fell for him. The Bonnie and Clyde act was so romanticized, but at the end of the day, we lived in a car and stole every meal. We couldn’t keep going on like that, so we made a plan to settle down.” 

 She can see the pain in her father’s face as she tells him what her life was like growing up without him. She knows it isn’t his fault, and he knows it too, but that knowledge doesn’t make the truth hurt any less. 

 “Anyway, he had stolen some watches a few months prior and was wanted. He couldn’t collect the watches from where he stashed them without getting caught, and we needed the money so that we could settle down. I decided to get the watches. And he was gonna go and fence them and meet me after with the money, but he gave me one first. So when he called the cops and they found it on me, it was easy to pin the crime on me.”

 “Emma,” he breathes, dropping his head to his hand briefly before looking back up at her with glassy eyes. 

 “It’s just…” she says through her own tears, ones she didn’t realize were falling. “I loved him. I really thought I did. And when I found out I was pregnant, a part of me wished he would come back and we could be a family. But he never did, and the more time that went by, the more I realized I could never—” she chokes on a soft sob at the memory. “I could never have raised Henry by myself. I had nothing. No one to help me. No money, nowhere to live… I was stuck with a criminal record and a teenage pregnancy and it was all because of him.” 

 It was because of him. What’s to say he won't do it again? 

 All she can think about is the one person she knows would never do that to her. 

 “I had no idea,” David says sadly. 

 “How could you?”

 He shakes his head and sighs. “It all makes perfect sense. I wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about not being with him but…” 

 “I don’t think I ever forgave him. I don’t know if I ever could. He— he took away my chance to raise my son.” 

 She didn’t expect to be so emotional about this; she’s had plenty of time to process what’s happened. Maybe it’s the fact that this is one of the most heartfelt conversations she’s ever had with her father. Maybe it’s the fact that her old wounds have been ripped open again by Neal’s return. 

 She considers the pain and fear that comes with being with him. She thinks about the comfort and security she feels with Hook. She wants to bury her head in sand.

 “I’m sorry that your mother and I have been pushing you to be with him. It isn’t fair to you.” 

 “You didn’t know.” 

 “We should’ve known you had a good reason.” She shrugs, sighing and resting her head on the desk for just a moment. “You know, this seems like a pretty easy decision to me: don’t be with Neal.” 

 She laughs at that, lifting her head and resting back against the chair. “Yeah, that’s the easy part.” 

 “Ah, I knew it. So this isn’t just about him?” 

 Rolling her eyes, she says, “you’re pretty perceptive, aren’t you?” 

 He hums out a laugh and says, “Well, if you want my advice, which I realize you didn’t ask for but I’m going to give anyway, I’d say you deserve to be with someone who would do anything for you. Someone who would go out of their way to make sure you’re safe, that your family is safe. Someone… honorable.”

 “Honorable…?” She cocks her head to the side and somehow knows exactly where he’s going with this.

 “Yeah. Someone who has had a few opportunities to show that he’s honorable. Someone who has proven himself, despite his past.”

 She snorts, rolling her eyes and saying, “you’re too much.” 

 “I’m not nearly as dramatic as someone else I know, whom I believe I saw heading to his ship not thirty minutes ago.” 

 She looks up at him again, this time cautiously, emotionally, and says, “you did?” 

 With a smirk, he nods. “I saw how happy you were for the past few weeks, Emma, and I can see how unhappy you are now. I don’t know what went on between you and Neal, or you and Hook, but whatever it is, it’s time to fix it. You deserve to be happy.” 

 She does, doesn’t she? Hasn’t she had enough heartache in her life? Isn’t it time for her to admit to herself what would make her happy?

 His strong arms holding her, keeping her safe. His soft touches as he comforts her whenever she’s upset. His gentle words of encouragement and belief in her. 

 He makes her happy. And she messed it up. She hurt him. 

 She’s got to fix this.

 She huffs and rolls her eyes again, standing and taking her keys off of the desk. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll be right back.” 

 “Take your time,” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes again. 

 ~~~~

 She’s on his ship again. 

 She’s holding flowers. 

 Roses.

 Emma feels the tears trailing down her cheeks, cool against her flaming skin, and drops her head down onto her arms dramatically. She’s too late, she thinks. She hurt him too badly. There’s no way she can put herself out there now. Tink is probably a better match for him anyway. They have a long history, and if she considers the shared glances on the island, probably a sensual one. She probably knows him better than almost everyone. Better than Emma, at least. 

 God, she messed up. 

 She messes up more, though, when her arm slips off the steering wheel and her head collides with the horn, alerting everyone at the docks of her presence. 

 Everyone. 

 She scrambles, cursing as she searches for the keys in her bag that lays on the passenger's seat. “Fuck,” she mumbles once she finally finds them, but her hands are shaking so much that she can’t find the correct key and get it into the ignition. Once she finally does, she roars the engine to life and whips it into drive, glancing up and out the windshield, when she sees him. She screams, jumps, and starts rolling towards him. 

 She hears his soft bloody hell from inside the car as he holds up his arms as if surrendering to her manic driving. She puts the car back into park and drops her head to the wheel once more. 

 He rounds the car, squatting before her window and smiling softly before he points down, asking her to open it for him. She obliges, reaching for the crank and turning it painstakingly as it squeaks in resistance. “Alright, love?” he asks, and she thinks it might kill her to be here.

 “Sorry that I interrupted whatever you and Tink—”

 “You didn’t interrupt. Tink was just leaving. She’s got a big date tonight.” 

 Leave it to him to rub it in. Bastard. “I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous time.” 

 He scoffs, standing up as if to leave, and she rolls her eyes. But he walks around the car until he reaches the passengers side and jiggles the handle until she unlocks it. He moves her bag and places it on his own lap once he sits. “Swan,” he says, staring at her despite the fact that she refuses to look anywhere but straight ahead. “Emma, look at me.” 

 She turns, looking at him through her lashes and wishing she didn’t have to hold back. She wishes she could reach over the center console and kiss him. But despite her acceptance of her own feelings, she knows she needs to do the right thing. 

 “What’s wrong?” 

 She isn’t sure what to make of this question. Of all the things he could say, he chooses this. She thinks of the fact that Neal hasn’t noticed anything being off about her. 

 “Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile and looking back at the horizon. 

 “Emma,” he repeats. His voice is commanding, but not threatening. “You forget that you’re an open book, love. You’re here for a reason; tell me what it is.”

 “I’m sorry,” she blurts out without meaning to. 

 He draws in his brows, then raises one dramatically as he stares her down. “You are?” 

 She rolls her eyes. “Yes.”

 “For what?”

 “You’re gonna make me say it?” she scoffs. 

 With a smirk, he responds, “aye.” 

 With a sigh, she drops her head once again onto the wheel, then lets out a loud groan. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “for everything. You were right, I was using you, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

 She lifts her head just slightly to look at him for a moment, and sees a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you.” 

 She leans back in the seat, her gaze finding the ceiling far too interesting. “And,” she says, struggling a bit to get the words out. “I’m sorry that my inability to deal with my own feelings hurt you.” 

 He takes her hand in his but she can’t look at him. He squeezes softly and says, “Swan.” 

 With a sigh, she gives in, unable to look away from those forget-me-nots for long. “Yeah?”

 “Thank you.” 

 As she stares into his eyes, she realizes why she was trying so hard not to. They’re so enchanting that she’s sure she could say something foolish if she continued to stare into them. Instead, she whispers, “you’re welcome.” 

 “Would you care to come aboard so we can talk a bit more comfortably?” he asks softly, taking her hand in his hesitantly. 

 “I shouldn’t.”

 “Why’s that?” His face is falling, and she wants to catch him and make him smile again.

 “I don’t want to get between you and Tink. I shouldn’t have even said anything— if you’ve moved on with her—”

 “Bloody hell, Swan,” he says through a laugh. “Tink was here for advice. She doesn’t know much of anything about this town and she was interested in Ruby. She wanted to see if I knew anything about her from my short time here before Neverland.”

 She squints as she thinks, then blurts out, “Ruby?!”

 With a chuckle, he responds, “aye. Ruby and Tink have a date tonight,” and suddenly things start to make sense. 

 “So when she was here last week…” 

 “Why Swan,” he says with a smirk, “are you implying that you were here last week?”

 She blushes fiercely and chooses honestly as she nods. “Yeah, but I left. And I’m glad I did.” 

 “Why’s that?”

 “When I came then, I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t have said the things I needed to say. I’m glad I waited until now so that I could tell you that…”

 “That…?”

 “That I… I like you.” 

 His smile is brighter than the sun reflecting off of the dancing ocean waves. “I quite like you, too.” 

 “Yeah?” 

 “Oh yes.” She laughs softly, meeting his eyes once more and falling for him a bit harder. “Now, would you come aboard? I’m sure you could use something to eat.”

 She shouldn’t be surprised that he seems to have noticed her nearly full plate at breakfast this morning. With a small smile, she says, “okay.”

 When they get to the galley, kept as tidy as the rest of the ship, he offers her an orange, citing their curative properties. When she accepts, he uses his hook to start peeling it, but once she takes over, he looks at her suspiciously. “What?” she asks. 

 “I’ve just never seen you willingly eat something so healthy,” he shrugs. “I’m surprised you aren’t demanding Poptarts.” 

 With a scoff, she says, “it’s not like you have any.” 

 “Well, I’m not sure what the bloody hell a s’mores is,” he says, walking towards a cabinet and taking out a large blue box. Family size. Her mouth is watering. “But I suppose they do look rather appealing in the picture here.” 

 “You didn’t,” she says with a grin, unceremoniously dropping the inferior orange onto the table and hurrying towards him. 

 He shrugs, easily opening the box with his hook. “Well,” he says, trailing off and giving her a knowing smirk as he hands her one of the silver packets. 

 Instead of taking it, she leans towards him and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets her kiss him for a few moments, backing them up so that he leans against the cabinet, before breaking them apart and murmuring, “eat,” against her lips. 

 “I’m hungry for something else,” she whispers, but her stomach growls angrily and he hoists her into his arms and carries her backwards until he can rest her on the small table in the center of the galley. 

 “I’ll not be able to have my wicked way with you if you swoon from hunger, love,” he says flirtatiously, touching their foreheads together, cupping her cheek in his palm and running his thumb along her bottom lip tantalizingly. “Eat,” he repeats, his breath fanning over her face and making her eyes flutter. 

 “You’re no fun,” she pouts when he breaks away from her, not even giving her a final kiss. 

 “I’ll be much more fun later,” he promises as he sits in the chair just below her and takes the half-peeled orange, starting on it again for himself. Once it’s opened up, he begins segmenting it meticulously, peeling away the pith and dropping it onto the discarded peels that he left on the table. Watching him place each segment into his mouth halfway and bite down, licking his lips as the juice escaped them, is driving her mad with want. 

 She eats her Poptart slowly, barely able to appreciate the sweet taste she loves so much because of the distraction he serves. But then she realizes that not only is he perhaps the sexiest man she’s ever met, he’s also the most thoughtful. Seriously, a family sized box of her favorite, most versatile meal doesn’t seem like a big gesture, but she knows the meaning behind it. He bought that for her because he cares about her comfort and her happiness. He knows they’re terrible for her, and will likely berate her when she finishes the box in a week, but he got them anyway because he cares. 

 Dammit. 

 She puts the empty foil packet down on the table by the discarded peel and scoots to the edge of the surface before him, dropping herself onto his lap and straddling his hips with her knees. She isn’t even sure this chair can support the weight of the both of them, but she supposed they’ll find out soon enough when it either breaks or he complains of a safety issue. 

 He doesn’t though, he merely pops the last segment into his mouth salaciously and places a hand on her hip, smirking as he chews in a way that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. “Finished?” she asks him in a breathy tone when he licks his lips again. 

 “With the orange,” he confirms with a nod. “With you, not even close.” 

 She giggles, actually giggles, before her fingers find his hair and she’s kissing him, enjoying the taste of citrus against her tongue. His hand begins to roam her back, tucking up under her jacket and stroking along her soft, thin shirt while his hook finds purchase in the belt loop of her jeans. It's so easy to be here, to melt into him under his touch, to let herself relax into the feeling of being his. 

 He breaks away from her slightly, gently, and runs his fingers through her hair to move it away from her face. “What is it?” he asks, as if he can’t quite read her racing thoughts. 

 With a smile, she shrugs and leans into his palm against her cheek. “Nothing,” she starts. “Just… this feels right.” 

 He smiles too, leaning closer to kiss her chastely. “Aye, it does. I’m glad to hear you think so.” 

 “I want,” she begins, cut off by her own insecurity until his thumb traces the line of her jaw soothingly. “I want you. I want— I want to be with you.” 

 “You’re with me, love,” he breathes against her, kissing her softly once more. 

 She falters at his misunderstanding, but forces herself forward so that he grasps her true meaning. “I meant I want… us. I want to try— with you.”

 He’s still for a moment, and she feels her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She wonders if he can hear it. Though she thought they were on the same page, she isn't sure if this is him gearing up to reject her again. Maybe he isn't ready. 

 But when the smile grows on his face and he kisses her again, sweet and passionate and everything she’s been missing over the last week, her heart races for a different reason. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says against her lips, kissing her again. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “Yeah.” 

 She wastes no time bringing his lips back to hers, running her fingers through his thick, ink-black hair and tugging him as close to her as she can. His hand continues to run up and down along her side before finally tucking under her shirt, erupting a trail of goosebumps in its wake and making her shiver against him. He chuckles as she wiggles just slightly and asks, “cold, love?” 

 “No,” she responds. “Definitely not.” 

 “Are you hot, then?” he asks with a smirk before biting her bottom lip lightly and drawing a giggle from her. 

 “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, I'm hot for you.” 

 She snorts and pulls away from him, resting her head on his shoulder and biting the soft flesh where his neck needs his shoulder. He hisses, and the sound goes straight through to her core. 

 “Take me to bed,” she whispers in his ear before biting the lobe. 

 He hums lewdly and squeezes her before backing the chair up from the table and hoisting her up into the air, her ankles crossing around him. He struggles carrying her through the ship, having to go from the galley to the main deck and then back down into his quarters, but he doesn't complain once. 

 When they get down the ladder, Emma terrified that he’ll drop her but keeping her fears to herself as she clings tightly to his shoulders and hips, he plops her on the bed and smirks down at her devilishly. “My my,” he says. “How I’ve missed you.” 

 With a soft smile, she asks, “have you?” 

 “Of course I have,” he answers, crawling up the length of her and settling himself upon her. “I hope you know I took no pleasure in turning you down the last time, love.” 

 “I know,” she says with a sad smile, the memory flooding back to her. She touches his cheek gently with her hand, reveling in the fact that she’s here now, despite what’s happened between them. “It’s good that you did. I had to figure myself out.” He hums but doesn't agree verbally, perhaps worried about offending her. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispers. His eyes sparkle a bit and she thinks it must be because she uses his name. He likes when she does that.

 “I know, darling. You needn't say it again.” 

 “You were right, I was using you and it was unfair.” 

 “I’m only happy you see that now, and that we’re able to move past it.” 

 “Yeah.” 

 He kisses her fervidly and she returns it, hoping to convey exactly how she's feeling through the connection between them. His tongue snakes out along her lip until she grants him access and he takes it happily. His hand trails back down her waist, squeezing her hip as if he can’t get her close enough to him. “I want you,” he mumbles against her mouth without actually breaking from her. “You've no idea how badly I wanted to eat my pride and let you into my bed when you came here, Swan. Thinking I wouldn’t ever have you again was torture.” 

 “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never want to stop this.” 

 “Good.” 

 His lips trail down her jaw, along her throat, towards her chest, until he moves her shirt aside and licks against her sensitive skin along the line of her bra and she moans. He raises himself off of her a bit and tugs her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the ground, then follows suit with her shirt. “Has it truly only been a week since I’ve seen these breasts?” he wonders aloud dramatically, drawing a laugh from her. 

 “You're ridiculous,” she chortles, tugging on his hair as he removes her bra. He finally mastered the modern corset a few weeks ago and he gets it off quickly, even with one hand. Once she’s free from her confines, he tosses the garment to the floor with grandeur and pounces on her, drawing a hearty laugh from her. 

 Her laughter is short lived, as the second his tongue strokes along her hardened nipple, her breathing chokes. He nips and sucks and licks just right until she’s being driven mad, his hand paying attention to the neglected breast. His hook trails her waist, the cool steel a shock to her heated flesh, until he reaches the button of her jeans and releases her nipple with a pop. He travels further down her body until he reaches the button, his face lining up to it and his fingers working deftly as if he needs to be close to complete his task. When he tugs the pants down her legs, his hand squeezes her ass lightly on its way down and she giggles again. She’s never laughed this much during foreplay, ever. 

 He presses hot kisses against the front of her, still covered in her cotton underwear, before he loops his hook in then and starts tugging them down as well. Feeling the contrast between his warm fingers and his cool hook against her flaming skin drives her wild with her need for him. 

 He sits up so that he can toss her pants and boots to the floor, and she only thinks about how unfair it is that he’s still fully dressed for a moment before he’s trailing hot, wet kisses from her knee up the inside of her thigh. “So flawless,” he murmurs against her leg, biting her flesh and likely leaving a mark. “So perfect, and all mine.” 

 She moans again once he finds his way to her center, licking a strip through her dampened folds. She hums happily and her fingers find his hair, never tiring of the vision of his head between her legs. A thought pops into her head, and she realizes this is the first time they've been this intimate in his bed. It’s the first time they haven’t had to rush through it. 

 “Killian,” she breathes out as his fingers dive into her and curl just right. 

 He hums against her in response and she keens, arching her back in hopes of getting closer to him. “Aye, love?” he asks with his tongue planted against her clit. 

 “Fuck,” she mumbles. “More.” 

 She thought she was going to ask him to stop so that he could fuck her, but at this point, she’s so close that she can’t seem to form the words. He continues his unyielding attention to her until she snaps, silently screaming and pulling on his hair too hard. 

 It’s only once she’s come down, as he continues to stroke his fingers against her tightened muscles, that she notices him rutting his hips against the mattress, still fully clothed. She places her hands on his forehead, then his cheeks once he emerges from between her thighs. “Come here,” she whispers. He smiles, doesn’t smirk, and crawls up the length of her to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re still dressed,” she remarks. 

 “I’m sure we can remedy that.” 

 “How? There are so many buttons, and they’re so small.” He laughs as she goes on. “How do you even get them done? I’m not surprised you leave so many open.” 

 “I suppose I’ll need your help then, darling.” 

 Pushing his shoulders, she flips him onto his back and straddles his lap, bending down to plant her lips against the skin of his chest with each button that she opens. She pushes it open and finds a scar from a blade on his side, below his ribs, and presses a kiss there. She finds another from a bullet on his shoulder and decorates it with another kiss. She takes his arm in hers and kisses the tattoo above his wrist. 

 She undoes the laces on his trousers and pulls them off, her face lining up with his cock so that she can lick a strip up his shaft. He groans as she does, and his hips jump towards her when she takes him in her mouth. She can hardly fit all of him in her mouth without her eyes watering. 

 She revels in the sounds he makes in response to each of her movements, groaning and moaning as she swallows around him. She hollows her cheeks around his tip before taking him again, but he places his hand on her cheek to stop her. “Love,” he rasps. “I want you.” 

 She releases him with a soft pop and looks at him through her lashes as he takes a deep breath, guiding her up to him and kissing her softly. “You’re incredible,” he whispers against her lips. 

 With a giggle, she sits up, taking him in her hand once more and stroking him a few times before running the tip along her folds. He squeezes her hip as she tucks him inside her and they groan in unison. She looks down at him as he fills her to the hilt, and she realizes it’s the first time that she’s made eye contact with him during sex. It won't be the last. 

 He thrusts up into her forcefully as she grinds on top of him, the two of them setting an unforgiving pace for themselves. For each other. He bends his knees behind her, supporting her rear against his thighs and giving her more leverage. She plants her palms on his chest, her hair a curtain around the both of them before he leans up to capture her lips in his. She drops down, her elbows beside his head and his arms around her waist to pull her closer as they continue their movements against each other. 

 After a moment, he shifts them so that they’re flipping over, Emma landing on her back with Killian on top of her. He plunges back in, kissing her passionately as he thrusts relentlessly, perfectly. She claws at his back and desperately whispers, “don’t stop,” into his ear. He groans and buries his nose into her neck and kisses her skin, the tender gesture a contrast from his fierce thrusts. 

 They reach a precipice together, clinging to each other and shouting out into each other’s skin. She lets her muscles tighten around him until she falls off the edge of the cliff he’s been working her towards, then she feels him spilling himself into her almost immediately after and it makes her cling to him harder. 

 He kisses along her neck and jaw and face endlessly as they come down from their highs, and she can only smile once she catches her breath. When she does, she kisses him back. 

 “That was marvelous,” he whispers, and she chuckles. 

 “Yeah,” she breathes back. “Thank you.” 

 “You needn’t thank me for that, love. I’m sure it’ll happen again.” 

 With a laugh, she says, “no, I mean thank you for listening. And for giving me a chance.” 

 He rests his forehead against hers and nuzzles his nose against her own and says, “always.” 

 ~~~~

 They should’ve been more careful. It was the middle of the morning when she arrived, and she was technically supposed to be working, so they should have taken care not to fall asleep. But when she wakes and the sun isn’t streaming brightly through the eastern-facing windows, she knows she’s screwed. 

 “Killian,” she hisses, jabbing his ribs with her elbow as he holds her back to his front. “Wake up, I have to go.” 

 “No you don’t,” he mumbles into her hair, holding her tighter. 

 “I’m supposed to be at the station.”

 “Shhh.” 

 She rolls her eyes, unaware that Navy men could nap, and wriggles her way out of his tight hold in favor of grabbing her phone. She should have cleaned herself up before they fell asleep, but she didn’t exactly plan on that happening. 

 When she pulls her phone out of her pocket, she has 3 texts from David. 

 Hope everything’s going well… All good?

 Actually, I don’t want to know. 

 Been a while, let me know if you’re coming back today. 

 Dammit. 

 She scurries around the room to get her clothes on, refusing to speak with her father without them, and then calls him to put his mind at ease. He answers on the first ring. “She’s alive!”

 “I’m sorry. I lost track of time and—”

 “Seriously, I don’t wanna know. Shifts almost over anyway,” she pulls the phone away and sees that he’s right. She’s a terrible sheriff. “I was able to handle everything. Take the rest of the day and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yeah. You two worked it out, I’m assuming?”

 With a grin and a blush as she looks down at Killian who begins to stir, she says, “yeah, we did. Thanks, Dad.”

 “See you later,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. 

 When she hangs up, she sees him smiling at her and she can’t help but to go back towards the bed. “Morning,” he murmurs. 

 “Hardly. It’s almost 3.”

 “You must be famished then.” He pulls her hand so that she’s laying across his chest atop the blanket. 

 “I could eat, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood for another Poptart.”

 “I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than one a day.” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it comes with two in each package. 

 “Granny’s?”

 “Sounds perfect.” 

 ~~~~

 They sit across from one another in the booth, Emma’s back to the door, before she thinks better of it and moves to sit beside him. It’s a tight squeeze, but she doesn’t mind being close to him. He gives her a look, a quirky smile as if he’s entertained, and tucks his hook under the table. She wonders if he does this to hide it from her, but she can’t imagine why he would think he’d need to. So, rather than ignore the thoughts like she may have a week ago, or even yesterday, she reaches under the table and takes his hook in her hand to hold it tenderly. 

 He breathes out in a way that could be a laugh, or perhaps it’s in disbelief, and he bumps her shoulder with his. 

 “The usual?” Granny asks with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by their close proximity and child-like grins. 

 “Yes, please,” Emma responds, stomach singing praises at the prospect of a grilled cheese and onion rings. 

 Killian orders a clam chowder, apparently something he can’t get enough of, much like you, love. 

 She giggles again, something that makes her so unlike the person she thought she was, and presses her nose to his neck, leaving a kiss there. She’s about to tell him something, she isn’t sure what— perhaps that she thinks he’s funny, or that he’s ridiculous— when the door opens with particular force. 

 “Emma,” she hears, the tone accusatory, and she straightens, stiffening but not pulling too far away. 

 Henry’s with him. 

 Neal picked him up from school. 

 “Hey mom!” he calls as he rushes towards the table and sits across from them. 

 “Hey kid,” she says back with a smile. Though she’s rigid, she feels her muscles relaxing in the presence of her son. “How was school?” 

 She notes Neal from the corner of her eye, sitting awkwardly at the counter but still facing them suspiciously. 

 “Good, I learned my eights times tables.” 

 “Wow,” she says with a smile. Though she hated math, she finds that Henry enjoys it, and she couldn’t be prouder. “That sounds fun.” 

 “What’s this time table? Some sort of clock?” Hook asks. 

 “Modern math,” Emma explains with a soft laugh, and he nods in understanding. 

 “So, what are you guys doing here?” he asks, gesturing towards her close proximity to Killian. 

 “Ah,” Hook says awkwardly, scratching behind his right ear. “Grabbing some lunch.” 

 “Isn’t it kinda late for lunch?”

 She clears her throat and straightens a bit, taking hold of his hook once more under the table and trying to speak loud enough so that Neal can hear. She’s sure he will, as she’s sure he’s listening closely. “Actually, Henry, we’re on a date.” Killian looks at her immediately, surprise and excitement written across his face, and when she meets his gaze, she smiles softly at him. “Right?” 

 He looks at her so longingly, so… lovingly, that she can’t help leaning towards him. She almost kisses him before she hears Neal stand from his stool and walk over. “Henry, I gotta go.” 

 “I thought we were having milkshakes?” 

 “Seems like you can have one with your mom and… Hook,” he spits in disgust.

 “Neal,” Emma tries, but he holds up a hand to silence her. 

 “It’s fine, Ems. I see you’ve made up your mind and that’s just fine.” 

 She glances towards Henry and Killian and then stands, placing a hand on Neal’s shoulder to not-so-gently persuade him to speak with her in private. 

 “Neal, come on,” she says once they’re alone.

 “What?” 

 “So I didn’t choose to be with you! I’m sorry about that. It doesn’t have to impact us.” 

 “There is no us, Emma. You made that perfectly clear when you stood me up and got together with him.” 

 She rolls her eyes and huffs an angry breath. “We have a child together. We will always have a relationship. And you were engaged a few weeks ago! To someone who kidnapped my son!” she hisses in quiet anger. 

 “I didn’t know Tamara was like that!”

 “The point is, you have no claim over me. You have no right to judge me for moving on and being happy with someone who isn’t you. I can’t go through this with you. You were just engaged to someone else. How could I even believe you?”

 “That thing with Tamara wasn’t even real, Emma, you know that.” 

 “But you didn’t know that; it was real for you. And seeing how fast you moved on from her just reminded me how fast you moved on from me. After you left me in jail.” 

 “We’re not seriously talking about that again, are we?” 

 “We’ve never talked about it!” She’s trying so hard not to raise her voice, mindful of the fact that Hook is somehow entertaining Henry across the diner. 

 “I moved on from her because I knew I wanted to be with you!” 

 “It’s not enough for me. I deserve to be with someone who makes me feel safe. Who shows me every day that they want to be with me too. That I mean something to them.” 

 His tone is so patronizing that she feels herself shrinking. “When did I ever show you that you didn’t mean something to me?” 

 “When you called the cops!” She does shout now, the diner quieting and the patrons turning to look at them discreetly, and she blushes 

 “You’re really letting the chance of us go because of a pirate and a mistake I made 12 years ago.” It wasn’t a question. He seems in such disbelief and she honestly isn’t sure what to say to make him see her point. The fact that it isn’t just what happened 12 years ago. 

 “That wasn’t a mistake, Neal. A mistake is something you can fix. What you did ruined my life. You took away my chance to raise my child.” It’s all she can do to keep from crying at the memory of the decision she had to make. 

 “I didn’t know,” he says softly, weakly, as he looks down at his feet. 

 “I don’t care.” 

 “Well, what about Hook?” He asks, raising his voice now. “He left with the bean, didn’t he?”

 “And then he immediately came back and helped us rescue Henry! He made amends! There’s nothing you can do that will make me forgive you for what you did to me. To him.”

 “You said you loved me.”

 “Because you gave me my son. You said you wouldn’t stop fighting for us; just… fight for him. He loves you, so I want to be civil and coparent with you. But that’s all you and I will ever be. Please respect that I’ve made my decision and it runs so much deeper than choosing between you and Killian.”

 He’s silent for a moment, essentially pouting as he tucks his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and kicks at the ground, before he says, “fine. I gotta go.”

 “Okay. When are you seeing Henry for dinner this week?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Neal, don’t take this out on him. Just tell me when you plan on seeing him for dinner.”

 “I don’t know,” he says more forcefully. “I’ll text you or something.” 

 “Fine.” 

 “Fine.” 

 She watches as he walks by the booth, glaring at Hook and tapping Henry on the shoulder, then walks out the door without a word. 

 ~~~~

 Later, when they’re on his ship out on the bay, laying together on the main deck as the stars shine in the blackened sky, he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair and she traces hers through the curls on his chest. “I only know the Big Dipper,” she says softly, and he hums happily. 

 “I’ll teach you, love.” 

 She curls up closer to him, tucking her head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “That sounds nice.” 

 “And perhaps we can have dinner beforehand. Somewhere other than Granny’s?” 

 With a soft chuckle, she asks, “why Captain, are you asking me out?” 

 “I believe that’s customary in this realm, yes?” 

 “Yes, I guess it is.”

 He kisses against her temple, pulling her closer to him until she’s giggling and hopping up onto his hips and straddling her thighs around his, running both hands along his cheeks and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Well then,” he says once she releases him, “I quite look forward to it. Henry informed me that you may enjoy an Italian meal.” 

 “Henry did?” 

 “Aye, lad was quite excited, I’d say. Said something about taking you out on a real date. And about being glad to see his mother so happy.” 

 She laughs in disbelief and shakes her head before kissing him, this one with more fervor than the last. She sneaks her tongue along his bottom lip softly as his hand trails up her waist, and she can’t help the contented sigh that releases from her nose. “I am happy,” she says when they press their foreheads together. 

 “Aye, I look forward to making you happy for many years to come.” 

 And he does make her happy, scaling her walls and crashing them down until all that remains between them is respect and trust and endless love. 

 ~~~~

~~~~

[captain-emmajones]

in the palm of your freezing hand

Here is my contribution for Neverland New Year. Bigs thanks to @neverlandnewyear for organizing this and to @carpedzem for reading this over for me <3

I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. They are all mine! 

Summary: 

Post 3x09: On their way back from Neverland to Storybrooke, Emma is alone on deck of the Jolly Roger while everyone is asleep...or is she really alone? 

Hurt/Comfort -- 1,6k words -- Ao3

The ladder creaks under Emma’s footsteps as she climbs out of Hook’s quarters where Henry lies peacefully asleep. 

The ocean breeze greets her outside; it tangles and dusts salt crystals into her hair. Goosebumps run across the exposed skin of her neck as the wood of the Jolly Roger exhales sighs of content, lulled by the waves. 

Emma breathes in -- 

After Neverland, and the lost boys, and saving Henry, everything is so distinctively quiet on deck. It has been deserted; there is not a human soul to be spotted. 

-- and exhales a sigh of relief, looking up with leaden eyelids towards the starry sky. 

Lazy, white clouds twirl around the moon; they seem to be competing for her attention as she bathes the ship in a cold, silver light.  

Another gust of wind swirls around Emma; she folds her arms around her body to smother a shiver and paces forward. 

It is her first moment of peace, all by herself, in forever. 

She licks her lips, tastes salt on the tip of her tongue, as she walks towards the ship’s bow. And repeats cautiously to herself: Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. 

Everyone’s settled down in the crew’s cabin, with the hammocks and the bunk beds, but Emma knows she will not get any sleep tonight. 

She still feels on the edge of a precipice, can still feel the void calling to her and the restless shaking of her legs.  

The bitter taste, at the back of her throat, will not be swallowed down and this foreboding knot in her stomach will not stop whispering, murmuring, that something terrible has yet to happen. 

Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. We are -- 

Emma wraps her arms around herself in a tighter embrace to gather a surplus of heat. Angry shivers run down her spine, but she needs the fresh air, she needs the distraction in order to remain afloat and -- 

“Are you alright there, Swan?” 

She startles, heart racing, and spins around to face Hook emerging from the shadow, his coat swinging around him. Fuck. Shafts of moonlight sweep over him and slowly illuminate his features, touch by touch, until Emma can make out his eyebrows furrowed in a line of concern above eyes that have no business being this blue.

Her gaze lowers, flutters along pink lips and lands onto the pile of blankets folded against his chest. This sight brings her back to a few hours ago, when Hook safely tucked the blue bed cover of his single bed beneath Henry’s chin before standing up with a quiet smile and letting Emma and Regina flood in his room. 

“I just distributed those, but you weren’t anywhere to be found below,” he continues, stepping towards her. 

Emma blames his sharp and knowing gaze for her pounding heart and her anxious step backward. She thinks hurt flashes in his eyes, but it is only a momentary flicker and it soon dies into a gentle smile. 

And Emma’s figured out in Neverland that there isn’t much she can do, against that smile, and this earnest look on his face.  

“I’m okay,” she finally exhales, but it isn’t enough to dissipate the uneasiness she sees in his eyes. 

A playful gale interrupts her, preventing her from adding anything else, and she shuts her eyes under the cold surprise, muscles stiffening. 

Before she knows it, something soft embraces her and Emma lifts her eyelids to see Hook in front of her, securing a blanket around her shoulders.  

“There,” he whispers, even as his fingers skim lightly over the skin of her neck and then stop, “That’s much better, isn’t it, Swan?” 

Emma swallows down. Her hands fasten over the blanket, trembling fingers brushing against Hook’s. Her eyelashes flutter and a wobbling smile flickers across her face as his musky scent fills in her lungs. 

“Thanks.” A tender smile curls up the corners of his mouth and Emma’s heart lurches an unfair amount. 

Yeah...Fighting against that side of Hook is definitely harder than it looks like. 

Before she can catch herself gazing longer into his eyes, she whirls around to face the green waves that cradle and crash against the Jolly Roger. Although she cannot see him, Emma feels Hook’s hovering presence settling beside her. 

They stand there in a comfortable silence, shoulders almost touching, and Emma thinks it has been weird to see the pirate persona fade away, yielding to the Captain beneath it -- a Captain who has made sure everyone was safe and sound on his ship.  

She saw him proceed calmly, organized as he ordered everyone around and Emma thinks she caught a glimpse of the pirate Captain who, for three hundred years, was the only leader aboard this ship.

Emma also thinks it is odd how easily he gave up on his leadership, in Neverland, but then she stops thinking about it because those are dangerous territories to explore. 

Something bubbles up in the sea, beneath them. Emma squints. It must be a fish. 

“Did you eat anything?” He suddenly asks, shattering the silence. 

She shakes her head, blanket twirling along with her, and aims for a detached tone when she mumbles: “Nope. Wasn’t hungry.” 

And lowers her gaze for proper emphasis.

He sighs next to her. “You need to eat, Swan. And sleep. Savior or not, you are still human.” 

She scowls. “I’m not seeing you doing a lot of sleeping either.” 

A small laugh escapes him and Emma instinctively tilts her face to stare at him, biting her lower lip to smother a smile and clutching hard her blanket. 

It must be her lack of sleep, or just the euphoria of finally leaving Neverland, but Emma feels slightly drunk. Now that she thinks about it, her eyelids burn. 

“Point taken, Swan. However, this ship still needs a Captain. And once we’ll be in Storybrooke, I’ll have the rest of eternity at least to rest with the lots of you out of my ship.” 

He isn’t looking at her, and Emma has all the leisure to see the too big, too bright grin on his face fade into a frown and this unfamiliar and disconcerting look settle on his features. 

Emma’s stomach twists. 

“Oh yeah, don’t worry,” she hears herself say, “You’ll soon have this ship all to yourself.” 

Silence falls, dull and heavy. Even the sea seems to hold back her waves beneath her bosom, scared to shatter it. 

Emma gulps down. She does not know where to look. Gazing at him somehow feels too intimate. Something is clenching at her throat. She drops her gaze, stares at the blanket around her shoulders and then -- 

“Aye.” 

-- and then, looks back at him. Always back at him. (That will become a pattern, but Emma does not know that yet.)

Fuck. His head is lowered, stubborn wisp of hair hanging in front of his eyes; he seems to be examining the rings around his fingers, and Emma wishes he would look at her instead -- but he doesn’t. He remains frozen. 

A wave of heat overwhelms her and her free hand abruptly grips the wooden rail next to his. Although she winces at the cold, the desired effect occurs; he looks up, surprised, and delves into her eyes. 

Emma’s heart might sink to her feet but she goes on: “What are you going to do once we reach Storybrooke anyway? You know I won’t let you pillage and plunder this town, right?” 

The joke falls flat with the implications of her words and she sees his eyes go back and forth between hers, trying to read her. 

Panic sweeps over her. She just assumed, she just assumed that he would stay in Storybrooke, with them, as if, as if he belongs there or something -- 

Thankfully for Emma, Hook’s answer comes quickly and is delivered in a gentle, soothing tone that sends a loop in her stomach.  

“I’m not after these kinds of tresors anymore, Swan.” 

Emma nods, although her heart is now beating inside her mouth and her legs have turned to stone. 

“I’m happy to hear that. I wouldn’t want to have to chase you around Storybrooke.” 

Another laughter. Even the moon looks as though she is scrunching her nose and smiling upon them. 

“I beg to differ.” 

In a moment of clarity, Emma does think she should go and try to get some sleep, before her fingers end up doing something terrible, like grabbing the lapel of his coat. 

Eventually, there is just enough willpower left in Emma to allow her to slowly retreat. She blinks, inhales, gathers strength. Sleep. She needs sleep. 

“I’m sure you do,” she exhales and takes a step backward. 

As she passes him by, her right hand instinctively brushes across his arm; Emma sees Hook’s eyes widen at their contact, but he does not make any comment. 

A smile, she smiles -- 

“‘Night Hook.” 

-- and allows herself to look up and gaze into his eyes. There is something exhilarating, about staring into his eyes. Emma does not know why.  

Without looking down, she is able to predict the spontaneous jolt of his fingers towards her, fingers that rise and reach for her, and then stop, as if asking for permission and Emma meets him halfway. 

“Goodnight, Swan,” he answers back, as his hand curls around her knuckles, how can his skin be this warm?, and there is that stupid grin on Emma’s face again. 

She nods as Hook’s warm touch sends electric trails circulating all through her body. She is definitely too exhausted to care. 

Instead she keeps on smiling, fingers lingering in the comfort of his palm… 

...And then slowly backs away into the night -- a small, serene cloud floating along with her. 

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken At All Chapter 9/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated M

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly ​ and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘

And thank you everyone for the reblogs, comments and replies that give me so much dopamine ❤️

*****

Part 9

“Oh, good, you found it,” Wendy smiles when Emma walks through the door of the guest cabin. 

“Yeah.” She won’t mention that this is the third room she tried - one of which contained a very put out Will Scarlet, obviously not fooled by her disguise, who glared at her until she baked out slowly. “This is the bosun’s room, not yours. And not mine anymore either I s’pose,” he spat. But his fight is with Killian, not with her - she hopes. 

“We don’t usually have guests on the Jolly. Not apart from… well, you know.” Emma assumes she means the girls that are smuggled off the island. Maybe guests isn’t the right word.

“I saw Will,” she changes the subject. “He seemed, um, not happy.”

Wendy sighs, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he’s not. Probably just pouting about having to go back to the crew’s quarters now that there’s been a bit of a regime change.” 

“I don’t want to put anyone out. I can stay with the crew -”

“Absolutely not,” she cuts her off. “Will’s a grownup and he can suck it up. He’s just pissed that Killian’s back. You’re our guest. Besides, we don’t want the others to get suspicious. Pirates are terrible at keeping their mouths shut, but they have short memories so they’ve probably already forgotten about you. We’ll pass you off as a new former lost boy. It’s not uncommon for one to join after a battle like today.” 

“A battle?” 

She nods. “Before you arrived tonight. There were thirty of us this morning, more pirates than there were lost boys. Pan felt the need to thin out the herd, even the odds.” 

Emma feels sick. She saw the way they all stood on the deck, bloody and exhausted - on the tail end of a massacre. She can’t blame Wendy for how dismissively she speaks of it. She imagines that after a while you would stop getting attached to anyone on board. Maybe that’s why she’s so determined to ignore Will’s feelings for her. 

“There should be more coming soon,” Wendy continues. “Not sure when exactly, but some of the boys are getting too old to keep playing games with him. It was hard to tell a few apart from the crew.” Emma thinks of the teenager she’d fought earlier and wonders how long it’s been since he was on the other side of the battle, trying to slay the men who would become his crew. 

“I’m sorry, you must be exhausted,” she says then, turning back to what she’d been doing when Emma arrived, setting pillows on the bed. “I remember my journey here - and you’ve been on the wrong end of sirens and pirates already.” She gives her a sympathetic and knowing little smile. 

“Yeah, can’t say I’m looking forward to dealing with them tomorrow - what with the whole wanting to drown and eat us thing.” 

Wendy’s brows shoot up. “You’re going with him? I didn’t think he’d let you.” 

“I made him.” 

Her expression turns impressed. “Good for you. He must like you.” 

She lets out a laugh. “He definitely doesn’t. I… betrayed him, in my realm,” Emma admits, ashamed. “I don’t think he’ll ever trust me again.” 

“Don’t underestimate him. I’m sure you had your reasons. And if you convinced him to let you come with him to face the Lorelei, then I think at the very least you may have earned his respect. Just know that you should be prepared to lose something dear to you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ianeira won’t join us out of the goodness of her cold, fishy heart - no matter how enamoured she may be with Hook. She’ll want something.” 

“I didn’t bring anything with me.”

Wendy shakes her head. “The Lorelei don’t deal in material possessions.” 

Emma doesn’t understand. What else could she give them? But the somberness of Wendy’s warning makes her worry. “Killian shouldn’t have to go. He’s given up enough to bring me here. I can go to them on my own if you tell me where -”

“He’d never let you. Neither would I. Nobody should deal with them without Hook there to soothe Ianeira’s temper. Just be sure she doesn’t see you together.” 

“Because I’m a woman,” Emma nods. “Killian told me she was jealous.” 

“Because of the way he is around you,” Wendy corrects. 

“What? Annoyed?” 

The other woman considers her carefully, but doesn’t answer. “Just be careful.” She smiles then, changing the mood intentionally. “Besides, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I quite like having another woman on board.” Emma smiles back, though more hesitantly, her last comment still hanging between them. “Beats living with all these pouty, overgrown boys. Speaking of which, I should probably go deal with Scarlet. And kick him out of my room.” 

“Right.” Emma wonders if she will. 

“Oh, could you bring this to Hook? Would you mind?” She hands Emma a glass pitcher, the contents clear but swirling in a way that has nothing to do with Wendy's movements, as if they adhere to their own pull and rules. “It's water from the spring. For his wounds,” she explains and Emma’s eyes go wide. 

“The spring? But I thought -” 

“It won’t trap him here, not without drinking it, not without life-threatening injuries. And we only resort to that when we need to bring someone back from the brink of death.” Emma feels sympathy for the woman, trapped here for eternity or until Pan tires of her. “But it can be used as a balm.” 

She thinks back to Wendy’s words from before. “Making Neverland’s magic work for you?” 

Wendy smiles. “Exactly.” 

“Sure,” she agrees, taking the pitcher. She could do with an olive branch, as many as she can get. Following her out into the narrow hallway, Emma looks between the row of doors for a moment until Wendy points her in the right direction. You’ll get used to it. Something about this ship can skew your sense of direction. 

She hears a gruff ‘aye’ when she knocks on Killian’s door, nudging it open carefully, feeling strange about walking into his room despite the fact that she was in here ten minutes ago. She blinks when she finds him standing by his desk, peeling his shirt from his shoulders with a pained wince. The bruises are darker now, almost black - and angry. Emma thinks she owes Will a good kick to the ribs for that. 

“Oh,” he says when he sees it’s her. Clearly she wasn’t who she was expecting.

“Wendy sent me. She asked me to bring you this,” she explains clumsily, unable to draw her gaze away from the wreckage that is his skin. “Are you okay?” she asks, quietly, not meaning to, but god that looks painful. She shouldn’t have made him do this. She knew he was injured. He should still be in bed. He should be in a hospital.

“I’ve had worse,” he promises, drawing her attention away from his abused body. His words are almost comforting, which is ridiculous considering he’s the one who was beaten mercilessly more than once. Killian takes the pitcher with a ‘thank you’ and sets it on the desk. She needs to do something. She can’t just leave him like this, grimacing as he rips a shirt into strips.

“Can I help?”

He looks surprised first, hesitant, but then nods. “Aye. I don’t think I could manage to reach…” he starts, attempting to twist towards his back and wincing again. It’s not missed on her part, how much it means for him to accept her help. He’d reluctantly let her help him in the hospital, but that was when he trusted her. “I need to make a wrap,” he explains, the strips of cloth still in his hands. “The rest will heal on its own.”

Emma takes the makeshift bandages from him, trying to ignore the way he watches her. “Do I just like, dunk them in?” 

He nods she submerges the strips one at a time, careful not to let the water overflow, not wanting to waste any, wringing them out and setting them on the desk. When they’re all soaked through, she picks up the first, turning back to him. Emma reaches out, waiting until he bows his head in permission before pressing the cloth to the centre of his ribs. 

He hisses and she jumps back. “I’m sorry!”

Killian shakes his head. “They’re just cold,” he breathes out.

“Don’t do that,” she scolds, heart still racing and his mouth wobbles in amusement. 

“Sorry.”

 She reaches for him again, appreciating the way he stays still and quiet this time as she gently lays the cloth on his skin. 

“Can you hold that?” He puts his hand over the bandage, half of it covering her own and she swallows. “Great.” 

Winding her way around to his back, she stops, taking in the damage. There’s less bruising here but there are gashes, healing but raw. Whatever he’d been struck with had broken skin or he’d been cut by something sharp. Beneath them, his skin is a map of scars, different sizes and lengths, some older, nearly faded, others newer, still shining slightly. 

She reaches up, touches one unwittingly, a particularly angry mark that slashes diagonally across his shoulder blades. “Did Pan do all this?” 

Emma’s surprised when he answers. “Some. Others are from another life long ago.” 

It’s the first time she realizes he must have had a life before coming to Neverland. Two hundred years is a very long time, but for the first thirty years of his life at least, he must have been somewhere else, must have been someone else. 

She comes back around his side, slipping the bandage under his arm and then across his front, joining it to the other end. “Hold this,” she instructs and he lets her tuck the fabric under his fingers. She repeats the process, layering the strips over one another, careful not to press against the bruises, circling him to make sure the water touches every inch of his ribs, tying the last one off as best she can. 

Killian breathes a sigh of relief when she finishes, resting a hand lightly over the wrap. “Thank you. It should be better by morning.” 

Morning? 

Oh, right. Magic. 

“Would it work on your cuts too?” she asks, thinking of the marks on his face and those on his back and arms. 

“I’m fine,” he promises and Emma sighs, annoyed. 

“Just let me help you, okay? I dragged you back here, the least I can do is try make it less painful than it’s already gonna be.” He considers her for a long moment, perhaps weighing her sincerity or whether to trust her even with something so small, but finally he nods. “Thank you.” She picks up a leftover strip from his shirt, gestures for him to sit. “On the bed.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back some innuendo that’s just desperate to be voiced, but he does as she asks. Once he’s seated, she crosses the room, sits beside him and reaches to tend to one of the worst wounds on his back. 

To her relief he doesn’t say anything but she gasps in amazement as the gash begins to heal. It’s not dramatic, the red a little less angry, the open skin closer together, but somehow it’s the most magical thing she’s seen since they arrived. 

She moves on to another injury by his bandages. He winces at that one. “How did this happen?”

“I told you, the Crocodile.” There’s less weight to his name than there usually is and she blames it on exhaustion, or pain. 

“I know but… he’s a middle aged guy who walks with a cane. I watched you take out half the crew an hour ago. I don’t understand how he could have done this.”

He’s silent for a moment, voice lower when he speaks. “Pan told me that I would find my revenge in the land without magic, that the Dark One was powerless there.” She brushes the healing waters over his shoulder. “But he lied. The Crocodile threw me across his shop without laying a hand on me the moment I walked in.” 

She takes another look at the slices on his back, remembers the broken display cases in the shop and realizes the glass must have cut him through the leather. She wonders if he’d have survived without it. 

“He favours that cane as a weapon,” he adds, raising a brow and looking at her over his shoulder. Emma winces this time. “I couldn’t move. And when he’d had his fill he decided to end it for good.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He threw me from the roof… twice” She stops what she’s doing, straightens to look at him in shock. “For good measure, I suppose.” He attempts a laugh but she can’t return it, too disgusted. 

She rises from the bed, coming around to stand in front of him, hesitating before touching her fingers to his jaw, tilting his head up so she can tend to a painful looking gash over his eye. “I’m so sorry. How could anyone do that…”  Emma whispers as she moves to a deeper wound near his hairline. He doesn’t answer her and so she tends to the scabbed cut on his cheek in silence.

“He thinks I stole his wife.” The confession is breathed into the space between them, small and private. 

Silently, she touches the cloth to his split lip. It’s not as bad as the others but keeps opening every time he speaks. She can’t meet his gaze as she asks, “Did you?”

Killian’s fingers wrap around her wrist and stays her movements. He doesn’t speak until she looks at him, holds her gaze with defiance and an old, ancient heartbreak. 

“A woman’s heart can’t be stolen, Swan. Especially not one like hers.” 

With his shirt discarded there’s nothing to conceal the words scrawled boldly across his forearm. Milah, a heart with a dagger through it. He took her. His words from before echo in her memory, their meaning even darker now than they had been then. 

Her answer is cut short when a wail pierces the air, making her jump. Another follows quickly. For a moment, she thinks the sirens have returned, that they saw through his ruse earlier. But this wail is different; it’s not melodic; it’s not terrifying. It's sad, the sound of crying carrying on the wind from somewhere. She looks to Killian, her confusion reflected back at her before a flicker of sympathy crosses his features. He relaxes, his thumb brushing over her wrist soothingly. 

“It’s alright, love. It’s just the Lost Boys. They cry sometimes at night - for their mothers.” He’s studying her strangely, like she’s surprised him, though she doesn’t know how. “... You’ve been abandoned.” It’s not a question and Emma stares at him, suddenly defensive and wary. She pulls her arm free and steps back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only those who know what it is to feel abandoned and unloved can hear them.” 

A knot forms in her throat. She hates Neverland. Looking out the window she tries not to let the tears that sting her eyes fall. “Do you think Henry…” 

Killian shakes his head. “That boy knows you wouldn’t leave him, love.”

She takes a broken shaky breath, guilt rearing its head. “I did, though, abandon him. The day he was born. I gave him up.” 

He touches her wrist again and this time she lets him, doesn’t pull away. “Look at the lengths you’ve gone to to get him back.” 

“He doesn’t know that.” 

“He will.” 

They’re silent for a moment. She hopes he’s right. She has to believe that Henry believes in her enough to know that she’ll come for him, that she’d never abandon him. Not again, not now that she’s had a chance to know him. When she’d given him up, Emma had really believed she was giving him his best chance, that he’d be better off with someone else, not an unloved and unwanted teenager who had him behind bars. She never wanted him to grow up feeling the way she did, and still somehow he had. And she hates that she did the same thing to him that her parents - one of whom may or may not be her roommate - did to her.

“You can hear them too.” She looks at Killian who nods but doesn’t look away. 

“Aye.” 

“Were you a Lost Boy? Before you became a pirate?” 

He considers it longer than she’d expect, especially as he finally answers, “No.” 

Emma doesn’t ask him any more questions. He doesn’t need to answer them any more than she does. He’s been abandoned too, feels just as unloved and unwanted. 

“You should get some rest,” he says then, dropping her hand. “Thank you for your help with the bandages.”

 Emma knows when she’s been dismissed, and she doesn’t blame him. The entire conversation had gotten a little too personal, a little too vulnerable for two people who keep their guards up as high as them. She sets the cloth down on the table next to the pitcher of spring water and heads for the door. He’s right. She needs rest. Today has been one of the worst, most terrifying, strangest days of her life and she imagines it’s only going to get worse from here.

***

She finds him the next morning by the helm. He doesn’t steer them anywhere, the ship still anchored in the bay, but he runs his fingers over the spokes, stops and traces something she can’t see behind the wheel. Something about it feels like a private moment, so she hovers by the stairs, waits until he comes back from wherever he was to step out into sight. 

Killian gives a small grin when he sees her. “Swan, I almost didn’t recognize you. You make a convincing young lad.”

Emma makes a face at him that he clearly finds incredibly amusing as he comes down to join her on the deck. “Let’s just hope the mermaids are as obtuse as you are.” Killian chuckles softly in amusement. “How are your ribs?” 

His smile softens. “Much better. Barely a bruise.” Her eyes widen. She nearly asks to see but just knows that he’ll intentionally misinterpret that request. 

“Great so we just have to keep you away from Will then, I guess. And hope that Ianeira doesn’t decide to play too rough.” 

It was meant as a joke but he only hums, his expression turning sombre. 

“Are you sure about this, love?”

“I’m coming with you.” She’s not leaving room for argument. They’ve already had that argument and she won. Henry is her kid; she’s not leaving his fate up to anyone else. She did that for ten years and look where it got him. 

Studying her as though he hoped she’d change her mind overnight, he finally nods, accepting. “Come on then.” 

“Aren’t we taking the ship?” she asks when he leads her towards the railing where a few feet below a dinghy hangs securely from the side. 

This time he studies her like she’s an idiot. “You want to sail into siren infested waters? If you want to offer yourself up as a meal there are easier ways than sinking my ship to do so.”

“You could have just said no.” 

“No.” Ass. “We’ll go through the jungle to their territory. Better to have this conversation on dry land. Makes it easier to run away - or fight,” he adds, as though only just realising something. He reaches into his coat, those endless pockets that all seem to be full of more than they should hold. “Here,” Killian says, handing her a dagger. Taking it from him she tucks it between her belt and her pants and he nods in approval. “What?” he asks when she cocks her head at him with a small frown. 

“How many other weapons have you got hidden away on you?” She definitely hadn’t found that one when she’d searched him in the hospital. He only flashes her a cheeky grin before turning back to the dinghy. 

“Ladies first,” he gestures and Emma rolls her eyes before climbing up onto the railing and swinging her feet over. Carefully dropping down into the little boat, she looks back up, waiting as he does the same.

He lowers them to the water and rows them into shore despite having only one hand, his hook looped around the end of the paddle. She’d have offered to help but was worried about offending him. Besides, he’s clearly capable and she’s absolutely sure he’s done this a hundred times at least - if only for illicit mermaid rendez-vous.

The trip across the bay is short, the beach a welcome sight after having been on the water for so long. He hops out as they reach the shoreline, grabbing the bow and dragging the little rowboat ashore and then gesturing for her to get out. Killian laughs as her legs suddenly go unsteady beneath her, and he reaches out to catch her. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sailor lose their land legs so quickly, Swan,” he tells her, hand and hook at her elbows as she regains her balance. “Perhaps there’s a little pirate in you after all.” 

She rolls her eyes and he only grins, letting go of her arms and she gestures for him to lead the way. “Come on, we can’t keep your date waiting.” 

He leads her through the dark jungle, the lush canopy growing denser with every step, vines and branches encroaching on them as though trying to swallow them whole. Killian draws his sword, cutting their way through the foliage and creating something close to a path. She keeps close, walking barely a step behind to avoid losing sight of him - or being snatched by whatever it is she feels is watching her from the dark. 

“How can you even tell where you’re going?” she asks and hears his sigh begin. “I just mean I can’t see anything, how are you remembering where you need to go?”

“It’s not the first time I make this journey in darkness,�� he answers and she rolls her eyes at the smugness. We get it. You fucked a mermaid. “It has changed since I was last here,” he admits after a moment. “There used to be a path here. The jungle’s grown.” 

“It’s been a decade…”

“Hmm.” 

He goes silent, thinking so intently that Emma can feel it in the space between them, a tension that grows more foreboding with every passing second. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“In two hundred years this jungle hasn’t changed. Sure, a tree cut here or there, a new spot for the boys to play… but not like this. This isn’t Pan changing Neverland. It looks… overgrown.” 

“Peter Pan doesn’t strike me as a gardener.”

“Neverland is his,” he tells her again. “He doesn’t have to tend to anything. It bends to his whims and stays or becomes what he wants it to be.” 

“So, what does that mean?” 

“Either he’s done this intentionally for his game, or the jungle has become free of his control.” Killian looks at her over his shoulder. “Stay close,” he warns as though she isn’t already nearly pressed against his back. She nods and they continue through the trees, the silence between them wary and guarded. 

“Not much further now,” he tells her and Emma strains to hear the sound growing from the distance. It’s faint, a whisper through the branches, water and wind. There’s a glow up ahead, only just visible against the darkness. It’s only as they get closer that Emma realizes what it really is - singing. Or something like it. Those wailing, terrifying notes falling and folding around each other to form a melody that shouldn’t be so beautiful, so alluring. 

When they reach the edge of the jungle, finally freed from the grabbing vines, they shift from one darkness to another. Only this one isn’t brought on by leaves blocking out the sun. They’ve come to the base of a cliff, the sun not seeming to shine here. But from the wall of rock she can hear the water rippling, drops echoing disjointedly through the chorus of voices. The glow, she realizes, is the reflection of light off the waves, patterns shining against the damp walls all the way out here. Where that light is coming from she doesn’t know. 

“Stay behind me,” he orders. “Don’t get close to the edge and keep your face hidden. Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Understand?” She nods solemnly. “Good. Come on.”

“Wait,” she catches his arm. “Wendy told me I should be ready to lose something. What do they want?”

“Don’t worry Swan, they won’t take anything from you.” Emma frowns at him in confusion and he continues. “She’ll want it from me.” 

He moves before she can stop him, before she can ask what he means, what Ianera’s going to take. Killian shouldn’t be giving up anything for her, she’s already asked too much of him. But maybe he knows exactly what the mermaid wants… Maybe it’s something he doesn’t mind giving, she thinks petulantly, rolling her eyes at his back. 

“It’s freezing,” Emma breathes as they pass the mouth of the cave, wrapping her arms around herself, her words turning to mist as soon as they pass her lips. 

“Aye. They live in the deepest fathoms of the sea, where the water would stop a human heart in an instant. They keep their caves absent from heat as well.”

“Cozy,” she says just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the depths. “I guess all those paintings of mermaids laying around naked in the sun were just done by a bunch of perverts then, huh?”

The singing tapers off as their footsteps echo against the stone, voices dropping off one note at a time as the cave goes near silent. 

“They know we're here,” Killian whispers, and then, “Stay behind me. They’re slower on land but they could still catch you if you stumble.”

A high, hissing shriek fills the space as Killian steps out into view. The ground beneath his feet is frozen, little puddles of frozen water scattered across the solid rock, massive columns of thick ice reach from the ceiling to the ground like stalactites. The water reflects them and then off of them, creating some cycle of ethereal white-blue waves light with no source and no end. 

Emma nearly stumbles back in fear as she rounds the corner and sees dozens of Lorelei spread throughout the cave, all of them as terrifyingly beautiful as Ianera, swimming in the underground lake or laid out on rocks. They look as though they might have been lounging, but now every single set of eyes is turned on them, a snarl pulling at their lips and exposing viciously sharp teeth. 

“Peace, ladies,” Killian calls casually, putting both hands up. “It’s only me.” 

“Who is he?” the echoing chorus of voices demands and suddenly all eyes are on her. 

“A new recruit,” he shrugs, waving a hand dismissively.

“And you bring him here? To us?” they demand.

“Aye, well, you know how the young ones are. They hear stories of the fearsome sirens, as beautiful as they are powerful, and they want to see it for themselves.” 

“Then why does he look away?” 

Emma tucks her chin further against her chest, hiding as much of her face beneath her hat as possible. She doesn’t know which one is speaking to her, can’t see beyond the stone and ice by her feet, but it doesn’t make a difference. Each of them sounds like all speaking at once even as the source moves throughout the cave. 

“He’s shy,” Killian answers, as though poking fun at a teenage boy with a crush. Which, she supposes, is exactly what he wants them to think she is.  

“What business have you here, Killian Jones?” The voices have moved again, closer now and Killian takes a step towards the edge. “We told you of the boy’s plans last night.”

“Hello, darling,” he croons and Emma doesn’t have to guess which of the mermaids is speaking now. She’d groan if she weren’t so terrified of making a sound. 

“You seek something,” they answer, not a question but also not an accusation. “Speak it.” 

“Well, I thought we might warm up to it first, but if you want to jump right in I can certainly be flexible.” How can he turn literally everything into an innuendo? When she doesn’t play along, he drops some of the bravado, smile slipping and jaw tightening. “The boy that Pan took - what do you know of him?”

“A better question, Captain Hook, is what do you know of him? There have been whispers,” she tells him again. There seem to always be whispers on this island. 

“What are they saying?” Killian asks casually but the tightness in his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed - at least not by her. 

“The man who swore he’d gone forever, who forsook this land and all upon it, returns in the shadow of the child Pan sought.” Her gaze turns to Emma who shrinks back, making herself small and hiding her face in the darkness she finds. “And with him comes a new Lost Boy - though none have gone missing from the camp.” 

Fuck. 

“Did Pan tell you that?” he asks, still hiding the most of his fear. 

Ianeira cocks her head. “We see beyond that which the boy can of what transpires on this island. We know of the bargain made.”

“Do you know why he wants him?” All pretence is gone from his demeanour now, no sense in trying to convince the sirens of something other than what they already know - they’re here for Henry. She doesn’t answer and he tries again. “Do you know where he is?” 

“You know the rules of the game. You ask what we cannot answer”

“I’m tired of playing his bloody game,” Killian snaps, and for the first time, the siren looks intrigued. There’s a long, weighted pause as the two regard each other, Emma’s heartbeat thrumming in her ears as she waits to see how this will go. His stance shifts, a change she can’t read. “And I think you are as well.” 

Another breath before she answers. “What do you seek, Killian Jones? Speak your desires plainly.”

“An end. To Pan’s dominion over the island and over all of us.” 

A hiss passes through the cave, whispered voices with indecipherable words, hushed and spoken over one another as every siren joins in, builds on it. The space fills with the buzz that grows so overwhelming Emma has to fight not to cover her ears, not to run from the sinister sound, until Ianeira calls for silence in a sharp tone, no echo to her voice this time. The cave settles, voices falling away until there’s silence again, only broken by the trickling of water.

“You know of the fate of the Lorelei in times past,” she says, the voice of many once more. “Of our sisters.” Killian nods grimly. “And still you are so bold as to ask this of us?”

“If we can end him there will be no return to the past,” he argues. “You and your sisters would be free once again - to come and go as you please, free of his service.” 

“And what if you should fail, Captain? What will become of us then?”

“We won’t. Not if we align with the Fae and the Constant. We can’t.” 

Emma shivers at his last words. They aren’t spoken in confidence but with a harrowing finality. They can’t afford to lose. 

“Of what do you beseech us? We will not be entrapped by vague suggestions.” 

Emma looks to Killian sharply. Does that mean they’ll help? Are the mermaids actually on their side? He keeps his eyes locked on Ianeira’s, his hesitation invoking the thought put into every word of his answer.  

“I think the boy is at the centre of all of this. I think Pan needs him for something, and anything Pan needs is of no small measure.” She nods slowly. “We need your sight and your ears. Anything the Lorelei learn that could be useful in our endeavour, I ask that you bring to me. And I ask that you and your sisters do not betray my confidence or that of those who ally with us.” 

Ianeira considers this for a long moment, the rest of the cave as silent and contemplative even as they all look to her. “And if one of our sisters is to fall to the fate of the old ways, what will you do then? What justice can you promise us?”

“I can offer you our protection, men to guard your cave and shores. I ken you do not need our help at sea.” 

She shakes her head. “That will not suffice.” She waits again, listening as a small buzz builds in the cave once more, softer, less furious, but no less unsettling. When it quiets she nods slowly. “For every fallen Lorelei, there will be a fallen sailor.”

Shock nearly sends Emma reeling back. Killian can’t agree to that. She thinks of Wendy and Will and the other young men on board. A life for a life, the mermaid is demanding and it’s too much. 

“Aye,” he says to her disbelief and dismay. “Myself the first.” 

It’s too much. There’s no way that getting the sirens on their side could be worth their lives. Is this what Wendy had meant when she’d said they would lose something? But she thinks of what Killian said - they can’t afford to lose. She supposes that if Pan finds the Lorelei out, they, Killian and his crew would be dead anyway. 

Ianeira smiles, reaches out her hand, elegant fingers and sharp-clawed nails wrapping around Killian’s as he takes it. “Agreed.” 

At least this time she didn’t make out with him to seal the deal… 

When Killian moves to pull away though, after kissing the back of her hand, she doesn’t release him, drawing him back to her. Emma only sees his face for a brief moment, the small wince of disappointment and foreboding - he’d hoped to avoid this, she thinks - as he turns back to the siren, kneels at the water’s edge. Waves lap against his boots and knees as he lowers himself to the mermaid’s level, her tail submerged in the deep, her elbows resting on the rocky surface. 

“You are too quick, Killian Jones. There is still the matter of payment.” 

“What are you talking about?” Emma demands, forgetting herself. “He just agreed to give you a life for every life you lose!” 

“Silence your sailor, Captain, or we will do so for you,” she warns, turning to her and Killian glares at her over his shoulder. 

“Quiet, boy,” he snaps, his own warning nearly as threatening as Ianeira’s. She’s still looking at Emma when Killian continues. “What do you want for your help?”

A slow, wicked smile crosses her lips, beautiful and terrifying, like she knows what she wants, like she’s been waiting to ask and now finally can. “You wish for our silence, then we will take yours in exchange.” Killian sighs, accepting, like he knows what that means. “Your voice,” she continues and Emma frowns in confusion. This is some Little Mermaid level fucked up shit. His voice? 

He smirks then, how he’s able to, she has no idea but even she can see it’s a desperate attempt. “I thought you were quite fond of my voice, love.” 

Before Emma can wonder if the seduction ever actually works, Ianeira’s smile turns wry and indulging, matching his. “Not all your voice, for it will be needed,” she allows. “We will take a word.”

“Which word?” he asks, swallowing.

“We give you our devotion and we take yours in return.” His shoulders fall. Emma wishes she could see his face, that she could understand what he clearly knows already. “Speak it, Killian Jones, one last time.” 

It’s just a word, she thinks. ‘One last time’ the siren had said, a word he won’t be able to use again. There are worse things right? That can’t be so bad. But she freezes, blood running cold when Killian takes a deep, shaky breath and then speaks. 

“Milah.”

“No!” Emma shouts, stepping out of the darkness, shocking the mermaid whose hand had risen to Killian’s cheek, lips inches from his, and Ianeira turns, hisses at her viciously. Suddenly every other siren has turned to her, teeth bared in a snarl and every instinct is telling her to run. But she can’t. Instead she steps forward. 

Killian stands, turning to her, blocking her from approaching the edge with his body. Face a breath from her own, he speaks angrily in the bare space between them. “Step back, Swan.” His voice is low enough not to be heard by their audience but she glares at him, stares down the woman in the water. 

“I’ll pay it. Not him.” 

She scoffs. “What do you know of devotion, child? What do you know of love? Your words are worthless to us.”

“I’m not a child,” she shoots back defiantly. 

“Emma!” Killian snaps, but she’s already pushed past him, standing at the edge where he stood. 

“Come closer,” Ianeira tells her. “Let us see you, boy.”

“No,” Killian interjects but the mermaid gives him a threatening look as Emma kneels down as he did. 

Razor tipped claws trace her cheek, sharp against her skin, enough that if she only pressed, Emma knows it would break, slice open with a flick of her wrist. Like she had on the boat last night, Ianeira rises in the water, bringing herself eye to eye, and Emma holds her breath, refusing to look away. A slight frown crosses her ice-like face before finally a shocked and thrilled realization dawns on it. 

“A woman.” 

A swirl of wails and hisses and cries echo through the cave, as though unable to find their usual unison. Splashes resound everywhere as dozens of Lorelei rush to the water’s edge, crowding around their sister to see for themselves. Emma can’t breathe, can’t think, frozen solid under the mermaid’s menacing touch as they all study her. 

“And our ally,” Killian says loudly over the chaos of sound. Ianeira’s gaze lifts to his over Emma’s head. “Whom you’ve agreed not to betray. Pan can’t know she’s here.” 

“A woman,” she repeats, mesmerized as the excitement quiets around her, but her expression hardens, looking at the man standing behind her. “Forbidden. And you bring her here. Who is she to you that you risk both your lives in lying to us?”

Emma answers before Killian can, the edge of jealousy she’d been warned about sharp in the siren’s voice. “I’m Henry’s mother.” Her words draw the attention back to her, an answer she’d clearly not been expecting. “The boy that Pan took, he’s my son. That’s the only reason I’m here with him. And the only reason he agreed to let me come.” 

Ianeira watches her carefully, reading her for lies in the same way she had Killian on the boat. Emma doesn’t flinch. It’s the truth. She doesn’t have anything to hide from her. She can’t risk a glance back at the man behind her to see his reaction. Because of the way he is around you, Wendy had warned. The siren’s smile is pleased. 

“A woman’s voice in Neverland - rare and powerful. We will take your word.”

“And this will be payment for his requests too? Everything you agreed on before you found out who I am?” 

The siren nods.

“No,” Killian argues again. 

“Shut up. He’s my son,” Emma snaps. She wants to scream at him. Please don’t be an idiot and make the murder mermaid jealous by trying to protect me. And she won’t let him give up Milah for her, not after everything he’s already given. Her love ended in heartbreak and betrayal. She can give hers up. Steeling herself she forces her voice to breathe out the name she hasn’t let herself speak in over ten years. “Neal.”

Ianeira continues to study her, carefully. “No,” she says finally. “The word holds no power. There is no devotion still entangled in it. We will take another.” Emma’s heart races. Please don’t take Henry, is all she can think. It may just be a word but to think she could never call her son by his name again, after she’s only just learned it, breaks her heart. “Forbidden woman,” Ianeira says then. “You wish us to keep this truth from the boy, then we will take a truth.” 

“What truth?” 

“Yours. We will take your true self.”

With a shaky breath she says, “Emma.” 

The siren shakes her head and she frowns. Who the hell else is she if she’s not Emma? But this isn’t the real world - this is the weird, magic, words being stolen from her by beautiful fish women reality and she’s learning quickly that they play by different rules. Who is she? She tries to dig into that place that she’s kept locked up for so long, that she’s avoided even thinking of it - and she knows. She may have come to Storybrooke and found Henry and possibly her parents; she read the story and knows why they gave her up. But it doesn’t change the truth. 

“Orphan.” That’s what she’s always been and tears burn at her eyes as she speaks it. 

Her answer is considered longer this time, but again the creature shakes her head. “Orphan is what you were. But no longer are you so. Speak once more, forbidden woman, and speak truth or the agreement will be forgotten.”

Emma frowns at her, desperate. She doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t know who she is - that’s the truth. She’s spent decades trying to find out who she was, why she was abandoned, why she was forced to grow up the way she did. Her life has been a series of dead ends and unanswered questions. She spent it looking for the truth, unable to build her own in the absence of it. 

Except once. She shuts her eyes, remembering herself, small and alone, cold and burning pages to keep warm. The boy who’d spoken to her about fate and believing, and about the duckling who’d changed her fate and become what she wanted to be. 

“Swan.” The only part of her that’s ever truly been hers alone, the only time she’d made a choice about who she would be and not let the world change it. Her parents had named her and then made her an orphan. Neal had made her hard and untrusting, Henry had made her a mother - all she was, dictated by someone else’s choices, someone else’s actions. But on that night, she had decided that she would be a Swan, that she would make herself a Swan, and that was who she’d become.

This time, Ianeira’s smile is satisfied, and she nods, leaning forward to press her mouth against Emma’s and she feels as though something is being pulled from her chest. A warmth burns through it, in her throat and on her lips before suddenly it’s gone, leaving something missing on her tongue. When she pulls away, the mermaid smirks.

“Let’s go, Emma,” Killian calls from behind her, angry. “Ianeira, you know where to find us.”

The siren nods before releasing her and Emma rushes away from the edge, back colliding with Killian’s chest. His hand and hook grip her arms, holding her back and guiding her towards the exit, forcing her towards it. 

“Until next time, Killian Jones.”

They reach the mouth of the cave, stepping out into the dark jungle, and Killian pushes ahead of her, storming furiously out through the path they forged on their way here and leaving her with her thoughts.

She wants to try and say her name - see how literal the trade was. How does it work? Can she really not speak it? Not use it even if she’s talking about an actual swan? Or will her words just fall on deaf ears as they pass her lips? She decides not to try, afraid of whether she’ll be able to handle the answer.

“So we got the mermaids,” she starts. “That’s good right?” Killian doesn’t answer, his anger a presence in the increasing space between them. “I know I wasn’t supposed to reveal myself but we got what we wanted and that’s what matters.” Silence. “Killian?” He continues walking, back to her, pace steady enough that she has to hurry to catch up. “Hey!” she demands, grabbing his elbow and trying to force him to look at her. He shrugs her off, glaring at her over his shoulder. “Why are you so pissed off? Are you mad that I kissed your girlfriend or something?”

He whirls on her then. “You were supposed to stay back, keep your face hidden and your mouth shut. You weren’t supposed to reveal yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I know, I just didn’t want them to -”

“You didn’t listen to me. Again.”

“I had to.” She crosses her arms defiantly. “I couldn’t let you give up -”

“Don’t say her name,” he hisses. She steps back, struck, and his fury changes, shame and hatred muddying its edges. But it’s not directed at her. He lets out a slow breath, heavy and unsteady. “It should have been me. I should have been the one to sacrifice for your boy. And you shouldn’t have sacrificed anything for me.” 

“Why? Killian, you’ve done so much for us. I just wanted to -”

“Stop, Swan,” he says, and then seems to regret it, a pang going through her at the use of her name. “Stop thanking me.” He turns away, face twisting like looking at her hurts. “There are things you don’t know. Things I’ve done.”

She tenses, immediately on her guard. “What things?” 

His thumb plays over the rings on his fingers as he looks off into the darkness of the jungle, brow pinching tight before dragging his gaze back up to hers. 

“Pan found -” he takes another shaky breath. “Henry is in Neverland because of me.” 

*****

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[zaharadessert]

Heart of the Saviour (6/12)

Rating: Mature to start with, some later chapters will probably end up being explicit.

Warnings: Abduction, Ransom, Mortal Peril.

Summary: One night, in every corner of every magical realm, every boy aged nine to seventeen disappeared. Not one remained. That was when Pan made himself known to the realms, and from that night the eve of every boy’s ninth birthday meant their disappearance, until finally the realms demanded to know what he wanted to return their children to them. Pan told them he wanted the saviour, and while most realms were confused Snow and David knew what he meant and confessed the role their daughter was supposed to have played in breaking the curse. The realms voted and agreed to Pan’s terms, and Pan stopped taking the realms sons, holding the children he’d currently taken as insurance of their compliance. For the next fifteen years Emma’s birthday wasn’t a celebration, it was another tick on the countdown clock to the end of her freedom. Not that she was ever free in the first place, but to save every male child in the United Realms including her younger brother, Leo… She understood that she had a job to do, and she would do her duty with her head held high. What she didn’t count on was the sparkling blue eyes of the man Pan sends to escort her to Neverland in time for her twenty-first birthday.

Notes: Thanks to the @neverlandnewyear​ mods for running this event again, thank you once again to @kmomof4​ for being the most incredible beta, and for reassuring me through how I'd written some of this, even if she does hate Pan with the fire of a thousand suns now. I'm not going to lie... things get pretty dire over the next couple of chapters, so please do be prepared for mind games and manipulation. Enjoy?! Link to AO3 is down there somewhere!

Tagging: @jrob64​ @xhookswenchx​ @kmomof4​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @superchocovian​ @lfh1226-linda​ @teamhook​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @tiganasummertree​ @onceratheart18​ @snowbellewells​ @karlyfr13s​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @ouatpost​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @winterbaby89​ @thepirateandhisson​ @xarandomdreamx​ @xsajx​ @captainswan21​ @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza​ @sparlecorn93​ @hollyethecurious​ @anmylica​

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Read on AO3: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

- - - - -

The second ‘game’ of the day had been Sneak, in which groups of boys attempted to sneak up on Felix, Baelfire and several others of what seemed like Pan’s inner circle. If they succeeded, they were rewarded. If not, their cries rang out through the jungle as they were beaten for as long as the boy they’d failed to catch unawares could keep hold of them. Some boys seemed to be let go pretty quickly, while others… She’d had to force herself to clench her teeth, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop this when everyone seemed so keen to give it a go, but it was clear Felix and Baelfire had picked the game because they started at an advantage.

She could feel Pan’s gaze on her, taking in the subtle twists of her wrists that showed she was testing her bonds, itching to stop the brutality. He’d just smirked, and pointed out which kids were struggling to get away before they got clipped with a stick or a club, laughing and calling out encouragement when he felt like it. The lost boys laughed with him.

Now, Emma’s hands had been untied and a bowl of some kind of stew had been placed in them as they all sat around the fire to eat. All her muscles ached, her hands were scratched up, the blood on her cheek from where she’d caught her face on a vine had dried and was itching in the damp air. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well last night and then she’d spent a hell of a long time running for her life.

The lost boys may have started off throwing twigs on the way back but they’d quickly progressed to heavier items and she was bruised in places she hadn’t been before they started walking back. She’d had no way of defending herself, and every flinch had only made them laugh louder and throw more, but once they were back in the clearing that all stopped.

And now she was sitting on the damp ground, eating slop, and avoiding looking at any of them. She had to wonder how any of them could be enjoying this, could follow someone who would kidnap hundreds if not thousands of children and hold them for ransom. But then… some of them seemed as cruel and heartless as he was. Felix especially had relished in the second game of the day. He made her skin crawl.

Seated on a rock next to her, casually reclining as he surveyed his kingdom, Pan pulled out an instrument and started to play. Emma frowned as she watched the boys get up and start to dance around the bonfire in the middle of the camp. She watched them for a moment, listening hard to the silence before looking back at Pan.

He was watching the boys intently as his fingers moved over the pipe that was making no sound. She wondered why they could hear it and she couldn’t, was it because she was too old? Was it an age thing or something else? Because they’d been here so long? Because they’d given in to Pan’s whims and let themselves become what he turned them into?

In that moment she thought of Killian, and wondered if he would have heard the song if he was here. She wondered what he was doing, what he did when he wasn’t off acting like a pirate at Pan’s behest. She blinked and looked down at the bowl in front of her. She’d resigned herself to this, but her time on his ship had made her realise what she was leaving behind more than anything else had.

Now she knew about it, she missed it.

“Troubled, Princess?” Pan asked suddenly. He wasn’t playing his pipes any more but the boys around the fire were still dancing.

“What are they dancing to?” she asked, refusing to tell Pan what had really been on her mind at that moment.

“You don’t hear it?” he asked, his eyebrow rising in surprise.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. Had he been expecting her to? If so, why even was that?

“Interesting,” he said, sitting up on his rock and looking down at her as he went back to playing his pipe.

Emma couldn’t help the incredulous look she gave him. Was he trying to make her hear it? “Still nothing,” she said, almost happy to have unwittingly defied him, even if she didn’t understand why or how.

“Nevermind. You will soon enough,” he muttered as he stopped playing again.

They sat there a long time, not doing anything but watching the boys dance. Some of them kept putting logs on the fire, keeping it bright and hot. Gradually, some of the boys started to drift into the trees, crawling into tents and climbing into hammocks and falling asleep.

“When are you going to let them go, the boys you stole?” she asked, looking across at Pan still lounging in his throne.

“All in good time, we have business to complete first,” he told her casually.

“I played your game, Pan, why are you stalling?” She was getting annoyed but she did her best to remain calm. He was infuriating, but she’d been trained in diplomacy, so diplomatic she would remain for as long as possible.

“Oh no, Princess. That wasn’t the thing I need you to do, we’ll get to that,” he replied, not looking at her.

“What?” she hissed.

She didn’t understand, if he needed her to do a specific thing, why wasn’t he getting her to do it?

“I need to make sure you’re in the right state of mind, properly understanding of the situation, as it were…”

“I’m here, just like you wanted. You got me, you won! So let them go!” she said loudly, standing up as she did so and turning to face him.

Pan merely raised an eyebrow at her and flicked his hand.

Out of nowhere hands grabbed her, the ropes that had been left on the floor beside her were being wrapped around her wrists and chest.

“Get off me!” she snarled as she twisted out of Felix’s grip, only to have Baelfire and another of their friends, Ace, grab her instead.

“I think it’s time to put the princess to bed, before she wakes up the children,” Pan said, not moving to help, simply watching as his minions held onto her.

“Stop stalling and just tell me…” but her words were cut off as a wedge of cloth was forced into her mouth and tied tightly at the back of her head. The ropes holding her wrists together were yanked on harshly and she stumbled forwards.

“Get her in the cage, and hang her up with the other one,” Pan told them with a growl.

Emma was dragged off by the boys as Pan followed them to supervise, through the jungle to a smaller clearing around which there were several bamboo cages strung up in the trees. Ace and Baelfire lowered one while Felix held her against his chest with the handle of his cudgel pressed against her throat. She didn’t bother to struggle, with her hands tied she was unlikely to get far and she had a feeling that Pan wouldn’t insist that she be caught humanely this time. That and she was finding it difficult to breathe as it was, struggling would only make that harder.

Ace gestured into the cage with a bow as he held the door open.

Shrugging Felix off as he released her throat, Emma climbed in, and sat in the middle of it with her legs crossed.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Pan said, holding out his hand palm up. Upon it appeared a small cake, with a single candle burning in the creamy looking icing on the top of it. “Happy Birthday. Shame your loved ones can’t celebrate it with you any more,” he added with a smirk.

Emma didn’t move, so Pan set the cupcake down in front of her and ducked out of the cage.

The flame guttered as they hoisted the cage into the air, but it didn’t go out. Once they were all gone, Emma reached over her head and pulled at the material until it loosened enough for her to pull it off. Leaning forward, Emma blew out the single candle. Alone, just like her. She couldn’t see much from here, nor could she even pick up the cupcake with her hands tied palm up, but if she didn’t eat it she would no doubt anger Pan, and then she’d never get anywhere with what he wanted from her. The only way she was going to get to eat it was if she undid these knots. She got to work on the ropes holding her wrists together.

- - - - -

Read the rest on AO3

[swanslieutenant]

into the depths - part 1/2

Summary: Running out of options to save Henry, Emma and Hook venture to Mermaid Lagoon, to the dangerous and treacherous mermaids for a desperate attempt at their help. There is no assurance it will work, but to save her son, Emma is willing to do whatever it takes.

Rating T.

Written as a part of the CS Neverland New Year Event @neverlandnewyear. This is Part One of two, and Part Two will be up shortly. Hope you enjoy! 

Read on AO3 

PART ONE 

The night at the camp after the Echo Caves is quiet and subdued, everyone lost in their own thoughts. The initial discussion of retrieving Pan’s shadow had quickly faltered, the group deciding to wait for Regina to return before attempting that mission. The shadow is an entity all on its own, separate from Pan, and while Hook had seemed confident Emma was capable of securing it without Regina’s aid, her parents had objected to the danger and so, here they are, waiting around.

Yet again.

Emma tries not to be angry at this situation, knowing logically it is fine to wait for Regina to return, that it may be safer in the longer run. But it’s been several hours since, and she still hasn’t returned from wherever she went off to earlier. And so, the remainder of their mix-mash of a group sit around the fire, the silence amongst them anything but comfortable.

Emma almost wishes for Regina’s presence, not only so they can go after the shadow but for at least some snarky remark to break this tension. The Echo Caves are living up to their reputation, the aftershocks of its secrets leaving everyone in a strained silence that seems to fester and persist the longer it lasts.

Neal is sat on a log in the centre of the camp, munching on a pitiful dinner of leftover hardtack from the Jolly Roger and a handful of berries Hook has deemed safe, while Hook himself is sharpening his sword at the other end of the camp. Neither has so much as looked at the other since they returned and took their seats in their respective corners.

There is some history between them, something Emma doesn’t understand. She knows Neal spent time with Hook in Neverland previously – the cutlass leaning against her bedroll a reminder of it – but whatever occurred in that time is still a mystery. Though, it clearly didn’t end well, given the glares Neal sends Hook every so often, while Hook’s brow is furrowed in a twisted, painful expression unrelated to his work on the sword.

In the centre of the camp, David pokes miserably at the dying fire, casting mournful glances over to his wife every so often, who is already lying down on her bedroll, her back to the rest of the group. Mary Margaret hasn’t said a word since they left the Echo Caves – other than to object to finding the shadow without Regina – and it’s not looking like she will do so anytime soon.

Emma herself is at a loss of what to do now. She’s resorted to pacing the outskirts of the camp, her mind racing as she tries to think up their next steps to save Henry. But its hard to do so when her mind keeps returning to the Echo Caves and the secrets it has revealed. Even with Hook’s warnings about his crew, Emma wasn’t prepared. Not at all.

She glances over to Mary Margaret, silent on her bedroll. It was hard for Emma to hear that  David was poisoned and cursed to remain on Neverland too, but she can only imagine how that blow has landed with Mary Margaret. Emma feels like she should reach out to her, try to comfort her. But she can’t think of the words. Mary Margaret’s own secret from the Echo Caves is fresh in Emma’s mind, leaving her stunned and lost.

She’s all grown up.

We missed it, David.

I want to have another baby.  

Each secret was a whiplash, even her own regarding Neal and the wish that he was still dead, and Emma is beginning to understand what Pan’s game was. Make them reveal their darkest secrets to tear them apart, to distract them from the real reason they are here.

She hates to admit it, but it’s working. David and Mary Margaret’s secrets had hurt her perhaps the most, a form of abandonment all over again – David’s physically, Mary Margaret’s emotionally.

Emma finds herself glancing over to Hook, who is still silently examining his sword. His secret on the other hand …

Until I met you.

She would be lying if she said that it hadn’t made her heart skip a beat. The sincerity, the honesty, the truth of it. It knocked all the wind from her lungs. She’d wanted to reach out to him, to say something, anything, but before she could gather her wits about her, other secrets had been spilled, sending her spiralling all over again.

Emma straightens her back and forces all those thoughts away. Hook, Mary Margaret, David, Neal – they and all their secrets and their potential implications can wait. Henry is the only one that matters here.

“We need to discuss our next steps,” Emma says, marching to the centre of the camp, hands on her hips as she surveys the others. “We can’t just sit here and wait for Regina forever.”

“Agreed,” David says, and he drops the long stick he was using as a fire poker, sending sparks from the dying fire floating through the air. “Who knows when she’ll be back.”

Neal sets down his half-finished meal, and frowns. “Is Tink around here still?” he asks. “She could –”

“She won’t help us,” Emma replies flatly, a flash of irritation at the fairy who had so quickly fled at the first sight of danger. “We already asked her. She won’t help us get into Pan’s camp until we have a plan to get away from Neverland after saving Henry. And for that, we need to wait for Regina to get the shadow.”

The camp falls silent, then Neal asks, “Has Pan ever said what he wants with Henry? Like, what he brought him for?”

“No,” Emma admits. “He’s just been playing games with us. But maybe … maybe if we could figure that out, we could at least stop him before he hurts Henry anymore than he already has.”

Hook sets down his sword and the sharpening stone then, stroking absently at his face, brow furrowed in thought. “We could ask the mermaids.”

Emma turns to face him, taken aback by the suggestion. “The – mermaids?”

He nods, thoughtfully. “Aye. They may –”

“You want to ask the mermaids who attacked your ship for help?” David demands, interrupting with incredulity. “They nearly killed all of us, and Emma almost drowned because of them! There is no way they would help us!”  

“Perhaps not,” Hook admits, his tone calm in the face of David’s outburst. “But they may be our only option. The mermaids can travel this island in a way no one else can – through the water, and even Pan’s camp must be near a water source. Perhaps they will know why he’s brought Henry here.”

Emma’s heart is starting to beat faster, a chance of hope accelerating it. Neal is glaring at Hook with narrowed eyes, though he has leaned forward to hear better, and even Mary Margaret rolls over now, propped up on her elbow to listen.

“Did you say the mermaids attacked the Jolly Roger?” Neal asks, his eyes crinkling with a frown.

“Yes, and tried to sink it with a storm,” David adds pointedly, glaring at Hook.

“Aye, they did,” Hook says, shrugging. “But, as Emma so eloquently discovered, the storm was worsened by our squabbles. If we can keep our wits about us this time, a cursed storm will not be a problem.”  

Emma’s eyebrows raise. Hook hardly ever uses her first name, reserving her addresses to ‘Swan’ or the epithet ‘love.’ ‘Emma’ sounds different coming from his mouth, and then couple that with a genuine compliment with no flirtatious undertone … well, Hook is full of surprises tonight.

“I don’t think they’ll help us,” Neal says, his sour tone bringing Emma back to reality. He crosses his arms, leaning back on his heels as he frowns at Hook. “They were with Pan last time I was here.”

“Allegiances change,” Hook replies, meeting Neal’s eyes in a measured, even gaze, and something unspoken passes between them then. Neal’s expression contorts, from a quick flash of anger and betrayal and confusion. He scowls at Hook, his cheeks reddening slightly in a sign Emma remembers as anger, and looks away, kicking at the loose twigs at his feet.

David and Emma exchange a glance while Mary Margaret, oblivious, sits up from her bedroll, rising from her feet to join them around the dying fire.

“I knew a mermaid once,” she says, growing excitement in her tone. “She saved me from drowning, and then even helped save me from Regina. If these mermaids are anything like her, we can definitely count on them to help us.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Hook interjects rapidly. “Unfortunately, these mermaids may not be as helpful as any you met previously, milady. Neverland is a cruel place. The mermaids who live here … they’ve had to adapt to survive.”  

He doesn’t elaborate, and Emma can only imagine what they’ve had to go through. She’s seen firsthand the way the Lost Boys and Tinkerbell have had to adapt to this cursed island, even Neal with his cave and its meagre survival tools.  

David, clearly recalling the mermaids influence on their arrival here in Neverland, shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says, one hand lingering at the sword at his hip, as if challenging Hook to disagree. “The mermaids here are monsters, you said it yourself.”

“And they may betray us to Pan,” Neal adds, dismissing the conversation as he settles back on the log, ready to resume his meal.

Emma’s frustration bubbles over, her hands curl into fists at her side, arms stiff at the conscious effort to resist the urge to start punching things. Why are they all content to sit around, waiting for Regina to return, when this idea could help them save her son from a maniac?

“Pan already knows everything about us! He can appear wherever he likes on this island, do whatever he wants! If these mermaids could help us save Henry, who cares if they tell Pan? He’ll probably already know anyways! If this could help us, we have to try!”

David and Neal remain silent as they stare back at her, disagreement plain on their faces, though at least Neal has stopped eating again. Over the fire’s dying embers, Emma catches Hook’s eye. His expression is carefully neutral, but there’s a determined edge to his eye, and he nods imperceptibly at her.  

He clears his throat, making David and Neal glare at him. That doesn’t deter him, and he says, “They may be our best chance at trying to find out more information to save Henry.”

Neal scowls at Hook, and David throws his hands up in the air in dismay. Mary Margaret, however, seems intrigued.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she says, breaking the unspoken tie. “Let’s go find the mermaids.”

David and Neal are not happy, dragging their feet, but Emma and Hook do not waste any time. They gather up several water canteens, Hook warning it may be quite the walk to reach the mermaids from their camp, while Mary Margaret leads the charge of gathering her bow and arrow and extra weapons for Neal.

Finally, they are ready to set off. The bright, full moon guides their path, filtering down through the jungle canopy in a scattered pattern, shadowed by the thick foliage above. Hook leads them, the rest following in a single file line through the narrow path that has been previously forged through the thick jungle.

Emma feels lighter than she has in a few days, the prospect of a task, of a goal, lifting her spirits. Though she is confident this is a good idea (better at least than sitting around while her son is suffering), the further they walk into the jungle, towards these potentially angry and lethal mermaids, questions of doubt trickle into her mind.

What if the mermaids don’t help them? They’ll have wasted all this time hiking to their lake or wherever Hook is leading them, when perhaps Regina may have returned in the meantime. What if this is just a waste of time, a useless delay, and it ends up with Henry suffering for longer?

Hook is several paces ahead of her, slashing at some fallen vines with his hook, and she increases her speed, scrambling over the loose roots in order to keep up with his hurried strides.

“Do you really think the mermaids will help us?” she asks, glancing back to the others. They are far enough behind that no one appears to have heard her question; if David or Neal got a sense that Emma was questioning this mission too, she’s sure they would be just as happy to turn around this moment.

Hook sighs, brushing his hair out of his face, and regards her with a somewhat sad smile. “I hope so, Swan. They are tricky and slippery creatures, who will parlay with us, if only for their own amusement. They have no regard for me, but neither do they have any love for Pan. He has not been kind to them.” Hook pauses, holding up a large leaf so Emma can pass underneath it, before adding, “To hurt him, they may help us.”

Emma can only hope he’s right.

They continue in silence, Hook guiding them through a small clearing to another long, winding pathway. This one is down a slope, steep and precarious, and at one point, though Emma is trying her best to keep an eye on her path, the dark night of Neverland bests her.

She loses her footing, skidding down several feet of loose rocks and damp leaves. Emma cries out in surprise, her stomach swooping with the sudden drop of gravity, and she braces herself for the fall, which is looking to be down several dozen feet of rocks and tree roots onto the rocky ground below.

But Hook, as if on instinct, reaches out to her as she stumbles past him, grabbing her arm with his hand and his hook catching a belt loop in her jeans. He tugs her back up to standing, jerking her upright fast enough to make her stomach squeeze with nausea once more, and swivelling her close to him.  

“Are you alright, Swan?”

His breath tickles her face, and Emma realizes then, just how close she is to him, practically in his arms. Even in the dark jungle, his features are in clear relief, and the last time she was this close to him … well, she kissed him.

“I’m fine,” she says, a bit breathlessly, which she absolutely attributes to the adrenaline rush, not Hook’s hand on her skin, the cold metal of the hook at the low of her back, or the sight of his face so close to hers once again. She steps away from him to more sturdy ground a few feet down the slope, brushing her hair back and out of her face, wishing again for the hundredth time she’d brought a hair tie with her to Neverland. “Thanks, um, for catching me.”

Hook nods and turns, continuing carefully down the slope. Emma follows him, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal as they head to the bottom of the slope. When they reach the bottom, pausing to wait for the others to come down carefully too, Emma turns to Hook.

“Hook,” she starts, thinking wisely of her next words. She’s been trying to think of how to say this for several days now, but with this latest suggestion on how to help save Henry and now just saving her from a potential broken leg or arm, it reminds her that … well, he’s here. He doesn’t have to be. But he is, and she’s not sure she’s able to fully communicate how much that means. “I wanted to say thanks for helping us find Henry. I don’t – I don’t think I’ve really said that yet. You didn’t have to help us to get here, and then help us since and I … I appreciate it.”

“Of course, love,” he says, his voice soft. He glances up the slope to the other three, slowly making their way down, and a dark shadow passes briefly over his expression. “There have been far too many boys lost to this island; if I can be of any help to save one more, it is my duty.”

Mary Margaret, David, and Neal reach the bottom of the slope then, and after checking in with Emma to make sure she is okay, the group continues their trek, through the dark jungle of sprawling roots, broken branches, and heavy, dew-soaked leaves. Emma is more careful this time, watching each step closely, but even still she slips a few times here or there.

This walk seems to be taking forever, Emma’s emotions fraught with both nervousness of approaching a group of mermaids who probably work for Pan and may not even help them, but also the general sense of anxiety and stress she’s felt since Henry was first taken. Her good mood has dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving her hollow with anxiety.

Finally, after they’ve been walking for at least an hour, Hook pushes through a dense crowd of bushes, leading them out onto a dark, sandy beach.

Ahead of them is an enormous lake, far larger than what Emma was imagining which, in all honesty, was essentially the pond from the Disney movie.

His voice grim, Hook announces, “Mermaid Lagoon.”

The term ‘lagoon’ is a misnomer, as this is a true lake, with black water rippling gently in the light breeze, water stretching far out into the dark horizon. Emma can only just see to the other side of the lake, where it meets the slope of a stony mountain, while the water disappears into the dark horizon to the west.

The water is mostly smooth and calm, but a dark cluster of rocks breaks the surface several hundred feet away, creating a small current and white tipped waves near its shores. The rocks are like a castle floating in the middle of the lake, with some rocks towering tall like towers and casting dark shadows out over the water.

“How are we going to find them in this huge lake?” Emma asks, disappointment already oozing into her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting this.

Hook looks to the sky, where the bright full moon shines faintly through a wisp of clouds, and gestures to the rocks with his hooked arm. “That’s where they’ll be. There are a few different clans in these waters, but they always convene on the full moon.”

It sometimes still surprises her how much he knows about this island, even though they’ve been here for days at this point and Emma realizes that he’s literally Captain Hook and this is Neverland. It’s a strange concept, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that he did spend two hundred years here, trapped by as much his thoughts of revenge as this cursed place itself.

Of course he’d know a lot about the mermaids and their habits.

“Okay, so how do we get over there?” Mary Margaret asks, as she, David and Neal join them at the tree line. She rubs at her face in exhaustion, her cheeks are hollow in the moonlight with dark shadows under her eyes. “Swim?”

“There will be a boat around here somewhere,” Hook replies, squinting around the dark beach. “This place is one of the only spots on the island that is protected against magic, even from Pan’s powers. He’d need some form of transportation to get over there.”

They spread out to search the dark beach. Emma’s feet sink into the soft sand as she keeps close to the gently lapping shoreline. Even with the full moon ahead, its dark here and after several minutes of walking, she doesn’t so much find a boat, as run directly into it.

Rubbing at her shin, Emma squints at the boat at her feet. It’s the size of the small rowboats Emma saw in Tallahassee several years ago, the ones with fathers and their kids eagerly packing their supplies for the day of fishing on the local waterways. This boat is made entirely of rough driftwood, sanded down to be smooth, with two benches facing each other constructed in the centre of it.

“Over here!” Emma calls, waving at the others, now scattered over the beach. “I found it!”

It takes several minutes for everyone to re-group near her, and Hook is the last to join them. He takes in the small boat and grins at her with delight.

“Excellent eyes, Swan. This will be perfect.”

Neal nudges the boat with his foot, sloshing the dark water, leaving the sand where it touches stained an inky black, dark even against the night. “You’re going to go across the lake in this puny thing?”

“Aye. Though I expect it only capable of holding one or two of us.”

David steps forward immediately, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll go.”

“You’ve done enough adventuring for one trip,” Mary Margaret says flatly and David deflates under her gaze, his hand unconsciously moving to hover over the now-healed arrow wound at his side. “Besides,” she continues, “the last time you got near a mermaid, you threatened to cut her throat.”

David steps back, his cheeks reddening in shame. Mary Margaret herself makes no move to volunteer, and Neal is standing off to the side, looking anywhere but at the rest of them. Its no matter – Emma has already made her decision, glancing to Hook. He meets her gaze evenly, determined and set.

“Hook and I will go.”

David exchanges a look with Mary Margaret, and gestures at the small boat, bobbing gently in the water. “No offense, Hook, but how will you row the boat?”  

Hook’s eyes flash. “I suspect we won’t need any oars,” he says simply, and he bends down, running his hand along the edge of the boat. “This is enchanted wood. Similar to the same wood in the Jolly Roger.”  

“Hook knows the mermaids better than any of us,” Emma adds, trying very hard not to glare at David for that comment. “He has to be one of the two to go. And,” she adds, before they can throw in any of their protective parent disagreements, “if anyone is going to get information that will help save Henry, it’s going to be me.”

She lifts her chin, hands on her hips, challenging anyone to disagree with her. Though her parents do not look pleased and Neal appears downright sour, no one says anything else in defiance. Mary Margaret and David set about filling several canteens of water from the lake. As they load them into the small boat, Hook examines it, inspecting for any signs of leaks or holes.

Emma steps away from the group slightly, fastening and tightening the cutlass straps that keep the sword tight and secure against her back, taking a moment to prepare herself for whatever she and Hook are about to face.

Neal wanders over to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.” 

“Not just with the mermaids,” he continues, tilting his head in the direction of the small boat, where Hook is bent over it, his necklace brushing the edge of the boat.

Emma tries not to sigh too heavily at the implication Hook is part of the danger in this mission. She knows they have some dark history, but Neal wasn’t there with them on the Jolly Roger when they first arrived in Neverland, when these very same mermaids had attacked them, when Hook had helped save Emma from drowning in the churning seas.

“Listen, Neal –”

“He betrayed a lot of people when he was here last,” Neal persists, stubbornly. “Those mermaids are no different. You said they attacked the Jolly Roger when you first got here – why do you think they would do that?”

Her hand hesitates over the clasp. That’s a question she hasn’t really considered before …

Neal notices her hesitation, and he nods pointedly. “Like I said,” he continues, his voice low. “Be careful.”

Emma finishes tightening the sword and tries not to grimace when she smiles reassuringly back at Neal. “We’ll be fine.”

She walks back to the small boat before Neal can say anything else, joining Hook at its side.

“Any holes?”

“No, it’s ship shape,” he replies, straightening up. “Ready, Swan?”

Emma nods, and suddenly reminded of the last time they did something like this. Standing beside Hook, about to embark on an adventure, just the two of them – its like they are standing at the base of the beanstalk again, back in the Enchanted Forest. Then, Hook had had his own agenda, had been consumed in revenge and his own goals, and Emma didn’t trust him for a moment.

It’s surprising how different it feels now, regardless of Neal’s implications.

Now, Hook is the only person she would want to go with on this trip across Mermaid Lagoon, to ask a group of mythical creatures for their help in rescuing her son from a demented kidnapper. There’s no ulterior motive this time – Hook is here, in Neverland, the home of one of his sworn enemies, volunteering to travel across a black lake to face mermaids to help save her son. Who, if Neal’s information is accurate, he may have screwed over before.

There’s no benefit to Hook to go on this trip, and yet, here he is, standing opposite her, determined and ready to save her son. 

Emma sets her jaw resolutely. “Let’s do this.”

Hook clambers into the boat first, hand out to help Emma in. Normally she would ignore it out of principle, but the unsteadiness of the water underneath the small boat has her grasping out for it. She expects some snarky comment or perhaps a refusal to let go of her hand, but to his credit, he simply helps her into the boat, his palm rough against hers, and releases her hand once she has her own footing.  

As Hook predicted, the boat carries no oars or other ways to steer or propel them forwards. Instead, as Emma and Hook they settle into their seats, the boat gently pushes off from the sandy shore, gliding out into the dark lake.

“If we’re not back in a few hours, keep going, keep looking for Henry!” Emma calls. “Find Regina and get that shadow!”

The three figures of David, Mary Margaret, and Neal soon fade into small black dots against a dark shoreline, and then disappear altogether.

The tower of rocks in the centre of the lake looms ahead of them, and as they drift closer towards it, a cool breeze kicks up, sending goosebumps down Emma’s bare arms. Most of the time she is overheating in Neverland, with its oppressive jungle heat at all times of the day, hence her abandonment of her black peacoat the moment they arrived, but here out on the water, it’s the opposite. The dark water splashing over the edge is icy, chilling her to the bone. Emma wishes she had brought her jacket, but that is still folded up as her pillow back at camp, so she rubs at her arms, trying to bring some warmth back into them.

Hook, of course, notices.

“Are you cold, Swan?”

“I’m fine.”

He rolls his eyes at her and shrugs out of his large jacket. He holds it out to Emma, but she doesn’t take it, raising her eyebrow in a challenge. He lets out a huff of a laugh, laying it out over her knees instead.

“No sense getting a chill before we’ve even arrived. You’ll need all your strength and wits about you, love.”

The jacket is heavy and warm draped across her knees, and Emma lifts it up, slipping her arms through the sleeves, sheltering more of her body. “Thanks,” she says, begrudgingly.

“You’re most welcome.”  

They lapse into a silence as they cruise across the lake, the coldness of the air brushing against Emma’s face and making her shiver.

“So … mermaids, huh?” she starts, curious but at the same time hoping conversation will distract her from the cold biting at her skin. “I didn’t even know they existed outside of stories until we arrived here.”

He tilts his head at her, eyes narrowed. “Sounds like most of my world is simply stories in yours.”

She nods, thinking of the numerous movies and books on Snow White and Neverland and every other magical character she’s come across so far. “You’ve got no idea. But they’re twisted. I mean, the stories are different than …” She trails off, and waves her hand vaguely in his direction, unsure exactly how to put it.

He nods seriously but his eyes have a twinkle of humour. “Like your moustache and perm comment.”

Emma laughs, imagining the animated Captain Hook, with his exaggerated features and brilliant red coat, versus the man in front of her – almost unfairly handsome, who dresses entirely in black leather, with a loose cotton shirt lacking any effort at buttons. Lethal where the cartoon is a buffoon. Perhaps the only story in her world that had gotten a fact right was the original book, which described his dark hair and blue eyes, as blue as forget-me-not flowers.

Its far too easy for Emma to stare at those blue eyes, to be lost in them, and she shakes herself, continuing, rather hurriedly, “I mean, mermaids, for example. The most famous mermaid in my world isn’t a monster; she’s a curious adventurer and the hero of the story.”

Hook’s humour fades, and he frowns. “Aye, love. In that sense, our worlds are similar. Most mermaids are not monsters. But like I said, Neverland is not a kind home. To live, to thrive here … the softest among them are long gone and the remainder are dangerous.

Neal’s warning from the shore about Hook and the mermaids lingers in her mind, a trail of doubt creeping in.

“Hook, when we first got here, they attacked the Jolly Roger. Why did they do that?”

Hook fiddles with the end of his hook. “It was most likely on Pan’s orders. He has some arrangement with them. I’ve never been able to figure out what he has over them, but he probably had them out on patrol in case you showed up. Though,” he muses, “we had our fair share of disagreements when I was here, before. They like to hold grudges, these mermaids. It may as well of been my doing as Pan’s.”

Her heart sinks; perhaps there had been something to Neal’s warning after all. “What did you do?”

“Nothing too nefarious,” he says, with a wry grin that rapidly fades again into a dark, almost morose expression. “But you live in one place for too long, you tend to gather enemies, especially ones who like to hoard treasure and work for your enemy.”

They lapse into another silence then, and don’t speak again until the boat begins to slow. Emma twists her body as the boat slows its approach, to a rocky beach similar to the one at the other end of the lake, with dark sand and a gentle lapping of the waves against the shore.

This time, however, instead of a jungle framing the beach, it is all rocks, some jagged and sharp like knives, others low and flattened by the water’s erosion, and goosebumps rise on Emma’s skin as Hook jumps out of the boat, tugging it the last few feet onto shore.

“This place is creepy,” she comments, rubbing at her arms as she rises to her feet now, leaving Hook’s warm jacket behind. There is a faint breeze now, and though it is only a feeble wind, it is icy and cuts at her bare arms.

“Aye,” he replies darkly, straightening and glaring at the rocks around them. “This is Marooners’ Rock.”

“Marooners’ Rock?”

Hook is gazing out to the distance, and Emma follows his eyeline. A flat outcropping of rock hangs out over the water, a sheer cliff over the swirling waters below.

“So named after all those who left their crew here to die.”

Hook looks away from the outcropping, offering no more explanation, and continues, “Come, Swan. They’ll be on the other side, facing out into the lake.”

He holds his hand out to her, and Emma takes it, climbing out of the boat onto the soft, black sand. She glances to the outcropping, and this time when she shivers, it has nothing to do with the cold.

The small boat has dropped them off at the bottom of a set of cliffs, towering about thirty feet above them, with a carved staircase leading up from the beach into the rocks above. Though Hook called this a ‘rock’, its truly a little island all into itself, and Emma feels daunted by the scale of it all.

They leave Hook’s heavy jacket in the boat, along with the water canteens and head off, up the stone staircase. At the top of the staircase is a rocky plateau, with a stunning view of the jungle of Neverland all around them. Emma glances behind her, squinting back at the beach for any sign of the others, but the shore is too far away now. Only the thick black jungle stares back at her, oppressive and silent.

For whatever reason, it spooks her and makes her angry at the same time. Here they are, stranded in an unknown, hostile world, her son lost and in danger. It makes her blood boil with anger, anger at the sheer fact that this is even happening in the first place, and Emma turns back to Hook, who is watching her with an unreadable expression.

“What?” Emma asks, more defensively than she perhaps means it to be.

“You need another weapon, Swan.”

Automatically, Emma refuses. “I have the cutlass,” she says, shifting to show Hook the blade strapped to her back.

His eyes trace her movement, the turn of her body, and his voice is low when he says, “Never hurts to have a back up, Swan. Especially against these creatures.”

Strapped to his belt, slung low around his hips, hangs several weapons – in addition to his own sword, there are two short daggers in brown leather wrappings and a short black scabbard. He unfastens the black scabbard, and holds it out to Emma, an ivory handle gleaming at her.

“Here. Take it.”

Something lingers in his words, and Emma doesn’t argue again. She takes it from him and slides the dagger out of its scabbard, revealing a lethally sharp silver blade that gleams in the moonlight. She tucks it into the side of her boot, so that only the emerald tipped pommel shows and nods at him.

“Thanks. Where to from here?”

He gestures to the other side of the plateau. “They will be over there.”

She gestures for him to continue, and then follows him down another roughly carved stone staircase, into the darkness of the rocks below, to whatever and whoever await them.

[eastwesthomeisbest]

"A One Time Thing"

... that lasted a little bit longer... or much longer...

My second contribution for @neverlandnewyear

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[elizabeethan]

Time and Time Again

The jungle makes her uneasy. Everything makes her assume the worst. She hasn't felt this anxious in years. There’s one person who doesn’t make her feel that way, though.

One day I’ll cool it with the Neverland AUs... today is not that day.

So, while bored as hell, I was scrolling through my docs and I saw “untitled” and said hmmmm what are you? And I found something interesting! A short piece of this was written back when I was very newly working on It’s About Bloody Time for a scrapped plot that features a more anxious Emma and a more monstrous Neal. Some of this may be familiar in that case, if you read that one. I added some pieces to it and we now have some Neverland hurt(fear)/comfort posted for @neverlandnewyear. It’s a one shot and I don’t intend to add any more to this but that doesn’t mean it wont happen

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being the best beta ever and hashing out this plot with me (but not for trying to get me to make this a MC 😡)❤️

Part 1/1 (complete)

Rated T for language

~3000 words

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64​ @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious​ @ouatpost​ @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

~~~~

He says he wants what’s best for her, but he doesn’t even know what that is. She told him her feelings wouldn’t change, hell, she literally told him that she wished he had died, and he still said that he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. What makes him think she wants him to fight for her? What makes him think he had ever started fighting in the first place?

 So, when Neal says he wants to stop for water and to relieve himself on their way back to Tink’s, Emma doesn’t object to a short break. She feels as though she had worked off her frustrations with the arduous walk through the trees, leading the way and setting a fairly fast pace. She sits on a rock as Neal steps away from the group of three, leaving just Emma and Hook alone with the noisy, humid jungle.

 “I apologize, Emma,” he starts softly. “I realize that my foolish actions could have placed your son at risk, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Emma isn’t surprised to hear Hook’s voice through the sounds of the birds and insects surrounding them. “You put yourself at risk, too. That was stupid, Hook. How the hell are we supposed to get off this island without you to sail the ship back to Storybrooke?”

 He smirks slightly, breathing out a soft sigh and taking out his leather covered flask. “I’m sure you would have found a way. Bae was rather skilled at captaining, back in the day.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, grabbing the flask when he offers it to her as he sits down on the same rock. “Well, that plan would have been foiled too if the both of you had your shadows ripped from your bodies. Then the only option would be to have the Dark One sail us home.” He narrows his eyes at her and takes the flask back. She can tell that he knows she’s joking but hopes that he can see her point.

 “The Dark One is lucky to have a place on my ship at all. There is not a chance in all the realms that he steps foot behind the wheel.”

 She scoffs lightly. “Remember that next time you want to try and impress me by doing something dumb.”

 “Your wish is my command, love.” She expects to see a smirk on his face, but instead is met with his eyes making contact with hers, looking serious under his dark brows.

 She stands up again, unable to sit still. She’s still keyed up from earlier in the Dark Hollow, and she feels herself getting jittery and restless after not moving for a few moments.

 Hook can apparently read her quite well, because he stands as well and offers her another swig from the flask. “You’ve got to calm down a bit, Swan. Perhaps I should go and fill your canteen as well?”

 “No,” she answers immediately, surprising herself. “I mean, I’m okay. I have enough water, just… stay here.” She’s not sure what the hell has gotten into her, but suddenly the thought of being left alone in the jungle makes her skin crawl.

 He smirks again, raising a brow before saying, “as you wish, Swan.” She half expected him to respond with some sort of brazen flirty comment, but instead he’s silent for a few moments.

 She nods, noting the anxiety still coursing through her, and he’s right. She does need to relax, but she can’t. She can’t get her mind off of Neal eventually making his way back through the jungle; keeps hearing him break through the trees and trying to talk to her again. The thought of Hook leaving for water and Neal coming back before Hook does sends her into a tailspin and suddenly, she’s nearly panicking. If Hook left now and Neal came back, he would absolutely try and have a conversation with her again, and she doesn’t want to even consider the fact that he’ll probably say something else about trying to win her back.

 “Swan? Emma, what is it, love? You’re turning white. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

 She’s nodding again, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… don’t go anywhere, okay? I don’t need water.” She feels like she can hardly breathe, her chest rising and falling painfully. Hook is in front of her quickly, placing his hand on her left arm and looking into her eyes so intensely she thinks her head might explode. 

 “Emma, what’s wrong?” 

 With her chest heaving, she responds, “I’m okay, it’s fine.” She feels his hand running up and down her arm, his hook making similar motions on the other, and the cold metal contrasts her hot skin nicely. 

 “Just talk to me, darling. What’s the matter?” Images of Neal coming back through the brush rush through her mind again, this time of him catching them in this compromising position and his possessive nature exploding out of him, and her breathing quickens. “Whatever it is, it’s alright. I’m here, I won’t go anywhere, love.”

 She feels herself relaxing slightly at his statements, knowing that she won’t be alone and in danger of facing her own thoughts in the next few moments. But then Hook says, “you’re safe now and we’re going to get Henry just as soon as Baelfire returns,” and she feels a tightness in her chest again. 

 “I don’t want- I mean-” she feels as though she can’t make a coherent thought as her breathing quickens some more. 

 “Don’t want what, Swan? What’s on your mind?” His voice is so soft and soothing to her that she practically melts, almost able to let go of the steel grip her thoughts have on her.

 It’s the tenderness in his voice that sways her to speak and distracts her from the ache in her ribs as her heart slams against them. “Neal, I don’t… I can’t face him. I don’t want to face him alone.” Hook’s face twists up, his brows pinching together and his lips pursing as if he’s deep in thought. 

 “What do you mean, love?” She finally looks him back in the eyes and sees them swimming with worry. 

 “I just… I just don’t want to talk to him now. I told him everything and he barely listened, and I don’t want to go through that right now. If you leave, nothing will stop him from...” she knows she’s rambling and hardly making sense, but she gets a feeling like Hook understands what she’s saying. 

 “Is this about your secret?” She nods. “Because you told him how you feel?” Another nod. “But then he and I were idiotic, and you nearly lost him again, is that it?” His perceptiveness impresses her, but she can’t shake the feeling that something he said isn’t quite on the money. “He’s your first love, Swan. It’s perfectly normal for you to fear losing him.” 

 “I don’t think that’s it,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not scared of losing him, I’ve already lost him and come to terms with it. I think I’m just scared of him hurting me again.” Emma is astonished at how much she’s opening up to Hook, but at the same time, feels as though he’s the best person to have this conversation with. If one person understands getting over the loss of a loved one, it’s Hook. 

 “You don’t want to talk to him because you’re worried that he’ll hurt you?”

 “I know he will, eventually.” 

 “It must be difficult to have so little trust in the person you love,” he remarks thoughtfully, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t know just how wrong he is. 

 “I don’t love him,” she proclaims seriously. 

 “Oh,” he responds. He nods, folding his lips into his mouth and looking about as awkward as she thinks she’ll ever see him. 

 “I don’t…” she starts, but isn’t sure if she should continue. She isn’t sure when she let her guard down in front of him. Just moments ago she was shouting at him for acting stupid and now all of a sudden she’s spilling her heart for him? “I don’t know if I ever did.” 

 He nods again and looks to the ground, his feet shuffling uncomfortably as he says, “I see. So your confession, then…?” 

 She shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I must have loved him in my own way, back before everything happened between us, but… if not for Henry…” 

 “So what’s brought this on then, love?”

 His question shouldn’t feel so profound. She should know why she feels the way she does; why anxiety is ripping through her at the thought of being with the man she once trusted. But somehow, she has an answer. “He scares me. I know what he’s capable of, and I know… I know what he’s done in the past. He could do it again.” 

 “What did he do?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

 “He left us.” Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only person here who doesn’t assume she’s going to get back with Neal. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only person here who has known Neal before. There has to be a logical explanation to the fact that she’s opening up to him more now than she has with anyone else. “Me and Henry,” she continues. “He set me up for his crimes and I had his baby in prison because he abandoned me. What’s to say he won't abandon us again, here?”

 He’s looking up at her instantly, the intensity in his gaze nearly suffocating. His brows are pinched together in great concern, and his mouth hangs open just slightly, as if he’s shocked speechless. Before she knows what he’s doing, he’s stepping towards her and taking her hand in his. 

 “You will not be left on this island,” he says with ferocity. “I will never let that happen. You will have Henry safe in your arms if I have to lose my other hand to make it so.”

 She chokes over his words, her throat drying and her forehead hurting with how hard she’s pinching her brows together. She can’t help but to squeeze his hand back, suddenly taking great comfort in his warm presence. Appreciating the way his fingers squeeze hers, grounding her. “You really mean that, don’t you?” 

 “Of course I mean it. We’re getting Henry off this island the moment we’re able.” 

 The island is so hot and humid, but the warmth he’s bringing her with just her hand in his is intoxicating, and she can’t help but to lean closer to him for more. The closer she gets, the easier it is to let out the breath she’s been holding. When she lets her head drop to his bare chest, her forehead tickled by the coarse hair, he releases her hand from between their bodies and wraps his arm around her shoulder. 

 “It’s alright,” he whispers, relaxing into her as she does the same, his face pressing to her hair. “We’re going to get off this island. I‘ll keep you and Henry safe, I promise you.” She nods into his chest again, pulling herself into his hold. Their breathing steadies, matching in pace, and his hand slinks up and down her spine soothingly. 

 “I know,” she whispers against him, hugging around his waist tighter, although she isn’t sure why.

 No, she does know. What’s shifted in the short time since they’ve been here she isn’t sure— perhaps it’s his stifling honesty or the intense set of his jaw when he tells her how he feels. She knows that she trusts him. She can’t let him go. 

 “Emma, what the hell?!” she hears from behind him, and she startles but doesn’t release her iron grip around Hook’s waist. Her breathing quickens once more, and she’s panting now as he squeezes her tight before releasing his own grip on her.

 “I—” she starts, but he cuts her off. 

 “We’re in the middle of the damn jungle and I step away for five minutes, and here you are with him? What the fuck is wrong with you? The whole reason for us being here is to get our son back and you’re fucking shacking up with the pirate? Are you deranged?”

 She sees something flick in Hooks eyes and he turns suddenly. “Don’t speak to her that way,” he hisses, his voice low and menacing in his chest. 

 “I don’t need your input on this, pirate! You certainly don’t need to speak for Emma, I’m sure she’s capable of defending herself.”

 “Defending herself?” he booms, taking a step away from her and towards Neal. “She needs not to defend herself for anything she’s done. Can you say the same, Baelfire?” 

 She raises her brows in surprise at his words but says nothing, choosing to let Neal respond on his own. 

 He lets out an awkward chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, as if there was nothing else he could think to utter. 

 “Right,” Hook scoffs. “Let’s carry on, then. We’re but moments from Tink’s and I’d like to get off this bloody island.”

 ~~~~

 She’s crying. 

 No one else is awake, no one else can hear, but she’s crying. She’s sitting all alone on her mat and she’s crying. 

 Whatever it was that Neal did to her all those years ago— the abandonment, the betrayal— the impact that it’s having on her now is clear. She spoke of her fear of being abandoned again. Of being left on this island by someone she once trusted. She’s been failed by every person here, and the dread of being failed again is valid. 

 He just wishes she wasn’t crying. It pains him to hear her struggling so hard to hide her soft whimpers and involuntary sniffles. She agreed to keep first watch so the others could rest, but Killian finds sleep impossible to come by because of the poignant sounds coming from his right. 

 He’s certain she can’t be watching for much, her soft sobbing likely distracting from any potential threats, so he finally moves to stand, startling her and causing her to sit up straight and wipe at her cheeks. “It’s alright, love. Only me, I’ll take over watch,” he murmurs softly, making his way towards her and noting easily the way her shoulders drop again as she lets her guard down, somehow. 

 “Sorry,” she mumbles, as if thinking she woke him. 

 “There’s no need to be.” 

 They sit in silence for a bit, appreciating the roaring fire before them, and he pokes open another coconut for her to drink down quietly. He notes that she’s stopped crying, but that doesn’t rid her of the wrought emotion displayed on her face and the occasional deep gulps of breath she seems to take involuntarily. 

 “We’ve a good plan,” he tries to assure her after a beat of silence. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to beat him.” 

 “I know,” she nods, biting her lip. “There’s just something about this island that makes me feel so…” 

 She sighs, unable to go on, so he supplies, “uneasy? Unwanted? Unloved?” 

 “Exactly,” she breathes out. 

 “I know the feeling, darling, but I assure you, it’s far from the truth in your case.” 

 “Just,” she continues brazenly, ignoring his sentiment. “Like earlier, for example. Mary Margaret talked to me about Neal, I guess she overheard us before.” He bristles at the thought of her mother overhearing their conversation, but lets her continue on. “And the whole time she was trying to make sense of what happened, but I couldn’t shake the feeling like she was, I don’t know, judging me. For not wanting to be with him. Like she couldn’t believe I wouldn’t want to be with my first love even though he ruined my life.” 

 Truthfully, he almost doesn’t doubt that that’s exactly what the young royal thought. If there’s one thing he’s learned about this crowd, it’s that true love is very important to them. The idea of her wanting Emma to be with Bae simply because they have a history together doesn’t seem too far from logical. 

 “So are you saying she doesn’t feel that way?”

 With a shrug, she answers, “I don’t know. But I feel like I took the worst possible message of what she was trying to say, you know?” 

 “Aye,” he agrees, though he thinks he may not actually know. 

 “But I never… I never have that feeling with you.” His breath hitches. Rather than responding, he turns to his right to face her and hopes that she elaborates. “I just feel like I can always take you at face value, I guess.” 

 He can’t help the smile that breaks across his face. He doesn’t try to stop it. Lifting his arm slightly in invitation, he rests it along the log they lean against and she tips towards him instantly. “I’m glad,” he murmurs once she settles. 

 “We’re lucky to have you.” 

 “And you.” 

 After a beat not quite long enough, she presses away from him and takes the heat with her and he tries to hide his pout. But he doesn’t need to pout for long before she leans towards him and captures his lips between her own in a soft, slow kiss. It’s less heated than the last, but no less passionate. It stirs no less in him than the last had. With her hand meeting his cheek and his sliding up her back and into her hair, he can say with certainty that this is the only part of Neverland he’ll ever enjoy. 

 She doesn’t pull away from him for some time, continuing to massage his lips with hers and eventually slipping her tongue to glide across his bottom lip until he grants her invitation. They tangle together but it’s no less gentle or tender as they sit beside one another and kiss away each other’s fears. 

 “Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth once she breaks away just slightly. 

 He isn’t sure if she thanks him for taking over the watch, or for the kiss, or for being here in general, but he knows it doesn’t matter. She need not thank him for any of it. Because when Emma Swan gives him a gentle smile and curls into a tight ball beside him, her head on his lap and her soft snores soothing him above the sounds of the eerie jungle, he knows he would do any of it and more for her, time and time again. 

 ~~~~

~~~~

[thejollyroger-writer]

Where Your Heart Will Fly on Wings - 1/2

Part One: A Ship, A Map, and A Secret

A Neverland arc (season 3A) rewrite where the gang doesn't meet Captain Hook until they get to Neverland to rescue Henry. Most of the end of s2 ("Second Star to the Right..." "... and Straight on' Till Morning," the last two episodes of the season) are the same: Greg and Tamara kidnap Henry. With Killian not present, I imagine that David succeeds in wrestling a bean away from Greg. They go to Rumple for help, and though he refused before, Blue's potion worked in giving Belle her memories back and he changes his mind. Somewhere in his shop, there is a ship in a bottle, and he removes this ship, docks it in the harbor, and leads Emma, Regina, Mary Margaret, and David through a portal that takes them to the waters surrounding Pan's island.

Also on AO3

Special thanks to @shireness-says my forever beta who only makes my life (and my stories) better, and all the ladies on discord who answered all the little questions I struggled with while writing this. Thanks, ladies. ( @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @stahlop ) Written for @neverlandnewyear. Some other interested pals: @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @carpedzem @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @regi-writes-stuff @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @winterbaby89 

The ship touches down on the waters, the portal disappearing from around them — but what they find is no better. Fat, cold rain drops pelt them from above, and below them, the waves begin to toss the dilapidated ship in every direction.

“Great job, Gold!” Regina yells, wrapping one of the ropes around her wrist. “You landed us right in the middle of a storm!” 

“Believe it or not, dearie, my powers do not include the ability to control the weather, and certainly not in this realm!” 

"We don't have time for this!" David chimes in, helping Mary Margaret keep her footing on the quickly-dampening deck. "If we're even going to make it onto the island, we have to get through this storm together!" 

"And how do you expect we do that?" Regina chides. "This ship is barely more than a pile of old boards, it's not going to survive this storm." 

"Then maybe we should work together to try to make it through this!" Mary Margaret yells. 

"What do you expect us to do?” 

"Well, we can start by trusting each other!" 

Regina scoffs. "You think trust is going to get us through this storm? Is your trust going to keep us from taking on water?" 

"No," Emma mumbles, looking down to her feet, and the water that she finds there makes her realize just how much trouble they're in. 

And that's when something rams into the side of the ship. And again. And again. 

"What the hell was that?" 

"Sharks?" 

"Afraid not," Rumple mumbles, trying to plant his feet on the slippery deck to keep control of the helm. 

Regina looks over the railing, conjuring a fireball in her hand. "Mermaids." 

"Mermaids?" Emma repeats. "They're real, too?" 

"Does that really surprise you anymore?" Regina asks. 

"We have to do something!" Mary Margaret yells over the wind. 

"I am not being capsized by a fish!" David sloshes across the deck to a small cannon, which he loads a length of chain into before firing it into the water.

Mary Margaret picks a large net up off the helm, tossing half of it to Emma. “Help me get this into the water!”

“What are you going to do, catch one of them?” Regina tosses a fireball towards the surface of the water — which, surprisingly, works, and a mermaids around them back off the ship. 

“Yes!" Mary Margaret stops for a moment to glance at Regina before tossing the net into the waves. "And ask her to help us.” 

“Mermaids aren’t going to help you, dearies!”

“Obviously you’re also not going to help us, either!” Regina crosses the deck and throws out another fireball, clearing the starboard side just as she did the port. “There.” She wipes her hands on her soaked slacks and smiles at the fact that the storm also seems to have left with the mermaids. “They’re gone.” 

“Not all of them!” Mary Margaret says, grunting as she and Emma struggle to pull their fishing net back onto the deck. “What about this one?” 

With a flick of Regina's hand, the creature is out of their net and sprawled on the boards of the deck, her hands bound in front of her and her shining tail flopping into the inches of water that have settled onto the boards of the deck. 

But her presence on the deck only causes an argument to break out between them, each offering their own way to deal with her — to ask for help, to kill her, to let her go. With every question they ask her, she offers them a vague but threatening answer, and the storm that Regina thought was over slowly begins to reform around them. Even after Regina turns her to wood with a whoosh of her magic, they continue to argue amongst themselves, the storm surging around them — all except Emma, who realizes the mermaid’s plan was to set them against each other to be destroyed by the storm. With no other option, she tries to get their attention, screaming across the small ship towards them, but nothing works — and she dives into the sea. 

Quickly followed by a piece of metal rigging, pulled off by the winds into the water behind her and making hard contact with her head, immediately knocking her unconscious.

Without a second thought, David moves to dive in behind her, but Mary Margaret’s hand tight around his arm stops him. “No! You could get pulled under, too!” 

“Not to worry!” A voice cuts through the rushing wind and water, another ship appearing out of the darkness of the storm. Within moments, it is close enough for the man to follow Emma into the water, a rope tied around his waist. 

For a few long, terrifying moments, nothing happens. The storm still surging around them makes it impossible for them to see into the water, and they can only hope that the mysterious man can save her before it's too late.

After what feels like forever, a head breaks the surface of the water, Emma's bright hair a strong contrast to the dark waves, and the other man follows. 

"Pull me up, Scarlett!" he calls, facing away from their small ship, and the man just visible on the deck of the nearby ship does as asked, pulling the man with Emma in tow. David wants to oppose, beg the man to bring Emma back to their ship, but just the feeling of Mary Margaret's hand on his arm keeps his mouth closed.

"Can you get us over there?" Mary Margaret asks, turning towards Rumplestiltskin. He rolls his eyes, but twirls his hand in front of him anyway, taking them all onto the other ship's deck in a wisp of smoke.

"Is she okay?" David asks as soon as he finds his footing, kneeling beside where Emma is laying on the deck — just as she spits out a mouthful of seawater and rolls onto her side. Mary Margaret drops to her knees on the deck beside her daughter, wrapping her arms around Emma's shoulders.

"Perhaps we should give the lass a moment? A bit of space?" the man who rescued her says, leaning against the bannister behind him, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Oh, come on !" Regina cuts him off, raising her hand towards the wave, moving ever-closer to their ship. "We don't have time for all this." 

"Alas, she's right. I'm afraid we'll have to save the pleasantries until after the dashing rescue," he says, striding to what can only be his rightful place behind the helm and leading them quickly away from the waves, away from the storm. David helps Emma to her feet and they all watch as their old ship crumbles beneath the waves, after which the storm around them seems to disappear at an alarming rate; within mere minutes, the sun shines down from a cloudless sky and the soft wind blows lightly on the sails.

The man locks the helm into place and holds his hand out in a welcoming gesture. "This seems a much more appropriate time for introductions. Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger. "

"Okay,” David says, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jones," he says, mimicking David's position -- which only draws attention to his left arm, which is blunted just shy of the elbow, replaced with a shining, metal hook. "But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker—"

Rumple laughs, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You've really owned up to your ailment, haven't you, Captain Hook ?" he says, spitting the last two words between his teeth. 

The man turns around, noticing Rumple standing behind him for the first time. "Oh, now that's just my bloody luck, innit?" He pushes his dark, wet bangs off his forehead with his wrist and lets out a small laugh. "All I was expecting was a few damsels in distress," he says, turning towards Emma for a moment and waggling his eyebrows at her before returning his attention to Gold. "Yet it appears I've caught myself a crocodile." 

"Like, Captain Hook Captain Hook? Waxed mustache and perm and Peter Pan?" 

"Well, love, I must admit I'm uncertain about the first two, but I'm glad to hear that you know who we're going up against."

"Up against? I just want to save my son." 

"Why do you think they brought him here, dearies?" Rumple asks, flourishing his hands to conjure a whisp of purple smoke, revealing a new outfit of dark pants and a black, reptilian-scaled vest. "Pan is the one behind it all, I have no doubts about that. And he is a far more powerful foe than any of you are able to go up against." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Regina bites back, but Rumple is gone in another wisp of smoke before the question even leaves her lips. 

"It appears that even after all these years, he is still as helpful as he's always been," Hook says, his jaw obviously tight with tension.

Emma's head is spinning. She's spent months trying to wrap her head around everything about Storybrooke and her life, around the idea of true love and fairy tales and everyone's stories intertwining — but this, running into handsome, one-handed pirates in Neverland that have a history with Gold, goes beyond all else.

"Wait, you know Mr. Gold?" Mary Margaret asks, voicing the question they all seem to be thinking.

"Aye, " he says, wrapping his hook around one of the spokes of the helm, where his attention is also focused. "though he was not known by that name. Before he became the Dark One as well, if the rumors are to be true."

For once, Regina seems interested in what he has to say." But he's been the Dark one for —"

"Lifetimes, aye," he says, cutting her off, but turning his eyes down to where she is standing on the lower deck.

No one knows how to respond to him, so the deck stays silent. For the first time, Emma looks around, taking in the small crew that stands around them. There are five that she can see, not including the captain: another tall, dark-haired man standing against the railing, arms crossed over his chest; a stout man with a red beard and an even redder hat; a fierce-looking woman with a mess of dark hair piled high on the top of her head, her dark orange tunic and black pants having seen better days; and two dark, brooding young men, no more than twenty, on the far end of the deck.

"What brings you all to Neverland?" the woman asks. Emma is not surprised that she is the one who tries to make conversation, though she vaguely remembers something about women being bad luck on ships. 

"They took my son," Emma and Regina say simultaneously, and none of the ship's crew are able to keep their immediate reactions off their face.

The dark haired man leaning against the railing behind David barks out a laugh, but when Regina turns her glare in his direction, he snaps his mouth shut.

"What could Pan want with your son?" Hook asks. 

"Does it matter?" Emma spits back. "We need to get him back."

Hook holds up his hands in a gesture of reluctant surrender. "Of course, of course, you're right." He turns to the man still leaning against the railing, who pushes off to his feet when he sees the look on the captain's face. "Prepare for a return to open waters, I would like to dock at Pirate's Cove before dinner time, Mister Scarlett."

Emma expects a salute, given the rest of the captain's countenance, but the man — Scarlett — just nods and walks away.

"Dinner?" Regina asks, her voice dripping with anger. "What part of ' we don't have time for this' don't you understand, pirate?" she spits.

"Can I ask you how many times you've visited this island, your Majesty?" he asks, the same fire in his voice.

She's taken aback for a moment, but answers nonetheless: "Never."

"That's what I thought. I, however, have been here for longer than any of you can even imagine, which gives me the kind of knowledge you could use on this type of quest. Are you really going to turn that down?"

To this, Regina has no response.

"Now, the beaches at Pirate's Cove will prove much more useful to your mission here, and by sailing around the island, it will rid you of the necessity of walking either through or around the Dark Jungle, which I can assure you is something you do not want to do. So, yes, we are going to chance the few hours it will take to sail around the island to hopefully cut days off of what it would have taken you on foot, and then we will be closer to Pan's camp and it will hopefully prove easier to find your boy."

This time, it's David who is angered by his response: " We ? What do you mean 'we'?"

Captain Hook practically rolls his eyes at this, which almost pulls a laugh out of Emma. “Do you expect to navigate the island yourselves?"

Emma intervenes, trying to calm the tension while also ensuring they stay focused on rescuing Henry: "He's right, David, we could use his assistance."

He winks at Emma. "I had a feeling I was going to like you." 

  Though she knows she should be resting, bunking with Regina, David, and Mary Margaret belowdecks, Emma instead finds herself drawn to the crew of the Jolly Roger , and spends the next few hours chatting quietly with them as the ship makes its way across the surprisingly quiet waters surrounding Neverland.

Especially the woman — Tiger Lily, Emma learns. Something about her keeps Emma interested in their whispered conversation, and it does not take her long to learn that, like her own, the woman's background is full of sadness and sacrifice.  She tells Emma how she sacrificed herself to try to stop someone from turning evil and spending the rest of her magic to get to this island after exiling herself; tells her about being found by Pan and working for him in return, only to learn how evil and twisted his ways are, stealing boys from their families and never allowing them to leave. (" And there's something deeper and darker behind it all, something that he only mutters about with his second in command, a Dark Magic that keeps the island alive — I believe with the sacrifice of the boys who decide they want to leave." ) And Captain Hook, saving her as she tried to escape Pan, though she knew it was impossible — or, well, improbable. 

"And I've been in his service ever since. He was working with Pan for a while, too, and able to leave this realm. He asked every time we docked somewhere if I wanted to leave, to live a better life, but I've enjoyed the time I've spent with him as my captain. I've never known a better man." 

"Oh, is that so, Lily?" the very man appears behind them, a smile covering his dark features — except his eyes, Emma realizes. His eyes are the brightest blue she has ever seen, the same color as the soft waves moving in the sunlight. 

"Now, come on, Captain," she laughs, and the way she sets her hand on the captain's arm sends an unwanted shiver down Emma's back. "You and I both know you're nothing if not a man of honor." 

"Yes, but you're not supposed to divulge that knowledge to our new guests just yet." 

"And why not?" Emma asks, knowing that her crossing her arms over her chest is a defense mechanism, but that only makes her pull them closer to her. 

He wags his eyebrows across his forehead, then winks at her once more. "Can't go around telling everyone that Captain Hook is a big softie. I have a reputation to uphold." 

Emma rolls her eyes and walks away, if only to save herself from any more unwanted shivers or repressed feelings. 

Their mission is to save Henry. Henry comes first and everything else has to wait.  

  "Well, what are we going to do once we're ashore?" David asks, hunched over the Neverland map spread across the desk in the Captain's cabin. 

"Pan's camp is only a short distance from the Cove, remember?" Mary Margaret adds, the focused planner and adventurer that Emma has only seen glimpses of. "We can sneak up on him and—"

"Nope," Hook says from where he has planted himself in the corner, one boot crossed over the other and his arms crossed over his chest. "There's no way to sneak up on Pan." 

Regina's eye roll is practically audible. "You keep saying that but offering no helpful advice." 

"And you keep saying that but not actually listening to what I have to say." 

"Hook is the one with the knowledge of the island, Regina," Emma reminds her. 

"And I'm the one with the knowledge of magic, maybe we should just give that a try!" 

"What are you suggesting?" Mary Margaret scoffs. " Poof ing yourself into the middle of a camp on a magic island you've never visited before?" 

"What do you suggest, Hook?" David asks, if only to keep Mary Margaret and Regina from fighting. It's obvious that the last thing he wants to do is take advice from a pirate, but even David realizes that they are left with very few other options. 

"There is no way to plan what is going to happen once we reach those shores. Everything we do, everywhere we go, Pan will know about it and will always be steps ahead of us." 

"How have you spent all this time in this realm and not learned even a few tricks that could help us?" 

"Most of my years here have been spent on this ship, provided with rations by the very demon himself. Before that, he and I had an agreement that made us more comrades than foes, and all the time I spent on the island was for his own doing." 

"Oh, that's helpful," Regina mutters, leaving the cabin without another word. 

"So, let me see if I understand this," Emma asks, knowing that neither David nor Mary Margaret will be able to be civil about this. "Your plan… is to not have a plan at all?" 

Hook nods. "There is no other option in Neverland. It's Pan's game there, and he makes all the rules. Best we can do is be ready for whatever he throws at us." 

"I don't like this," Mary Margaret mumbles, and David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to press a kiss against the top of her head. 

"It's what we have to do to get Henry back, and that's all that matters," he says, a princely tone of finality in his voice, and the room falls silent.

  "Can I ask you something, love?" Hook asks, his eyes leaving the horizon for just a moment to look at her (again, though she has only noticed a few of them) where she is sitting against the railing on the starboard side of the ship. 

"I'm not your love," she bites, looking up from one of Hook's maps that she's borrowed from his quarters. 

"I've had my share of run-ins with the Crocodile, and I've even crossed paths with the Evil Queen once or twice. The other two, that's Snow White, the princess, right? And her husband?" 

"And how do you know that?" 

He pauses, trying to chose his words carefully. He knows that if he says the wrong thing, he'll lose the small amount of ground he's made with them trusting him. "I've been… through an agreement with Pan, I can leave these waters every once in a while, as long as I fulfill some of the things he asks of me." 

"You work with him," she says, but her face fails to give away any of what is going through her head. 

"In a way, aye. But I've been to the Enchanted Forest, and I know what happened to it. How is it that you got here?" 

"Well, there was a curse." 

"Aye." 

"And I — I broke the curse." 

" You broke the curse?" 

"Yeah, I — I'm the Savior , apparently, because I — I'm their daughter." 

"Snow White's?" He's not nearly taken aback enough. "And the Prince." 

She nods. So does he. Somehow he is wrapping his head around all of this much easier than she did. Maybe once you're alive for a few lifetimes, things like this are a lot less surprising than they were for Emma. 

"How is it that you and the Evil Queen share the same son?" 

Emma can't help but laugh. Where does she even start? "No offense, Hook, but it's a very long story that we don't really have time for." 

"Aye, that I can understand." He lifts his hand off the helm to scratch his beard before moving his hand behind his ear and to the base of his neck. "But do you — you know — live together?" 

"No, no, it's more like… joint custody." 

"Come again?" 

Right. "Joint custody," she says again, even though the centuries-old pirate knows nothing about the ins and outs of child custody. "We, uh… share him, I guess. Take turns." 

"And what about the boy's father? Is he a part of this taking turns ?" 

His question turns her blood to ice. Neal. Where does she even begin? For a moment, she's angry — at Neal, at herself. "No." How dare he. How dare Hook to even ask about Neal, he has no right — 

He has no idea. It was an innocent enough question, there's no way he knew the still-gaping wound that a question about Neal would inflame. 

"He's — dead." 

"Apologies, love, I didn't mean to stir up any unwanted emotions." 

"Stop calling me that." 

"I'm afraid it's more of a habit than anything." 

She has no response to this and turns her attention back towards the map.

    "Bloody hell," Hook mumbles, though Emma and Smee, his first mate, are the only ones close enough to hear him. At first, they don't see whatever the problem may be, but as the ship continues to approach the shore, Emma sees him leaning against one of the trees just on the other side of the shore.

Pan. Emma can sense it somehow — her motherly instincts, maybe, or something like that, but she can feel that the man on the shore is Peter Pan. 

No. No, not man. Boy , with a pudgy teenaged face and dark hair that falls down to his eyebrows. 

"That's him," Emma says. She means for it to be a question, but it does not come out that way.

"Aye." She turns to him just in time to watch the edge of his jaw tick as he grinds his back teeth together. "That's the demon Pan." 

For a moment, Emma is unsure how she feels about all this. Hook's plan to take them around the island has already taken hours of their precious time, and all under the guise to keep them from Pan — only to have him waiting for them right where Hook brought them to shore. What if Hook had been playing with them the whole time? Giving Pan time to plan ahead while he wasted time sailing them all around the island?

But then she looks at him again, sees the rage obvious on his face, and she almost feels bad for questioning his motive even though she has every right to. 

"Bested us again," he mutters, but then straightens his back and looks out over the ship. "Prepare for docking!"

Pan watches, unmoving, from the shore as Hook and his crew lead the Jolly Roger to the dock — and, still unmoving, as they come ashore. Finally, he speaks. "Thank you for bringing our special guests ashore, Captain," the boy leers. "Good to see you're still good for something."

"You know I can't pass up the opportunity to give assistance to a damsel in distress, nonetheless three. And Dave." There's a joking tone in his voice, but it's not present anywhere else in his body. 

"Ah, yes," Pan says, pushing himself away from the tree. "Welcome, your highnesses. I hope you find Neverland as welcoming as you have spent all those years hoping your Enchanted Forest would be. And you, Regina, you and I have more in common than you may want to believe." 

Regina rolls her eyes, conjuring a fireball in her left hand. "Oh, please," she spits. "Let's do this the easy way: give me my son back and I won't burn your whole island down." 

Pan just laughs. "No, I’m afraid that's not going to happen. You're on my island now, and you're going to play by my rules." 

"Do you think this is a game?" 

"Oh, your majesty , that's exactly what this is. So, Emma, I'm going to give you a map." He pulls a folded piece of parchment out from under his tunic. "A map that will lead you straight to your son." 

"If this is some kind of trap," she starts, taking a step towards him with her hand on the sword on her hip. 

But Pan's soft laugh stops her. "I may not be the most well-behaved boy on the island, but I always keep my promises. The path to finding Henry is on this parchment."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

He chuckles again. "See, it's not about finding Henry. It's about how you find him. And, Emma," he says, placing his hand on her wrist as she reaches out to take the parchment. "You're the only one who can."

She takes it from him, then unfolds it — only to find it blank, save a pattern around the outside. "It's blank." 

"You sound surprised," Regina bites, but no one pays attention to her. All eyes are on Pan. 

"You'll only be able to read that map when you stop denying who you really are." 

Emma looks down at the map once more. Everyone around her looks at it. 

And when they look up, Pan is gone. 

  As they follow Hook's lead through the jungle, Emma's focus is on the map. She thinks of all she can: her background, everything she's learned since coming to Storybrooke. She even attempts to admit that she's the savior during a short break, but nothing works. 

Regina, angry and impatient and nothing if not motivated, takes it from her, insisting on magic, despite the arguments from the rest of the group. It works — to a point, leading them not to Pan's camp, but to an ambush by a group of Lost Boys. It does not last long, the heroes quickly overpowering the boys, but David gets nicked with a Dreamshade-tipped arrow — a secret he tries to keep from the rest of the camp.  

Hook sees it, though, the one in the group that really knows how deadly the poison can be, but he, too, keeps it to himself. 

He leads them away from the ambush, towards a cliff that looks out over most of the island. From there, he insists, they can plan a route through the jungle and maybe even scout out Pan's camp. But by the time they get there, the sun has set, and all they can see is shadow. "Now that you've seen what Pan can do in just a few short hours, we need our strength. I suggest we make camp."

Regina, unsurprisingly, is against his idea. "You want to sleep while my son is out there suffering?"

"If you want to live long enough to save the boy, yes," he argues, and no one has a comeback for this. Regina is first to walk away, huffing knowing that Hook is right. Hook is second, closely followed by David, who barks an order about finding firewood, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret looking out over the jungle.

They are silent for a moment, Emma obviously worrying about something, but Mary Margaret has learned not to push. And after a few moments, Emma does say what's on her mind:

"Regina's right, Henry's out there somewhere."

But Mary Margaret is ready with her positive comeback. "And Hook is right. We have to survive if we're going to get him."

"I know. I just hope we're not too late."

Mary Margaret leaves her there, knowing that sometimes, her daughter just needs her space to think. She stands there as the others build their camp, her attention turned once more towards the blank parchment — the map , removed from her pocket.

Though he does not mean to, Hook startles her with his approach. "I opted for first watch so you and the others could get your rest." 

Emma just shakes her head, starting towards the campfire, needing the monotony of the crackling fire to slow her mind down. "There's no way I can sleep here without solving this map."

"Then it appears you and I will be not sleeping together, love," he jokes, waggling his eyebrows at her with a smirk on his face.

Emma just rolls her eyes. "Listen, Hook. I am here to save my son. The very last thing I'm going to do is get distracted." 

His smirk is gone, not even a trace of a smile left on his features. "Of course, Swan. I meant no insult."

They sit in relative silence, the rest of them falling asleep quickly — or, at least, staying quiet. The sounds of the Jungle seem to grow louder in the darkness, almost deafening. But Emma's attention is still on the map.

"Nothing I can think of is working," she groans, dropping the map to the ground beneath her feet.

"None of those are what Pan is looking for. What have you been avoiding? What have you been hiding from, love?" 

She is already on edge, and his endearment only makes her angrier. "I am not your love, Hook. Why are you helping me, anyway?" 

He's been wondering the same, so he's quick to answer. "I've been searching for a glimmer of hope when it comes to defeating this demon for as long as I can remember. If finding your lad and ruining his plans takes his power from him, then helping you is the very least I can do." 

"But why? What did Pan ever do to you?" 

He's silent for a moment, trying to decide how much he wants to divulge to her, and he maks a quick decision. "It wasn't me personally," he lies. "But it's the principle of the thing. He preys on boys who think he's taking them to a better life, but all he's doing is taking them from their families. Growing up alone is the worst thing that could happen to a boy, and Pan thrives on separating families." 

"Sounds like something you know a lot about." She doesn't mean to be so forward, but once it's out, there's No taking it back.

"Pardon?" 

"Only someone who grew up alone would talk like that." 

Now it's his turn to get defensive. "And how would you know that? You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. What can a princess know about growing up alone?" 

She knows that there is no way for him to know otherwise, to know the truth about her childhood, but his assumptions about her still make her a little angry. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she grits, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. "My parents sent me through a portal when I was only a few hours old. I grew up alone , spent my whole life alone . I was an orphan, too, Hook. Or, at least, I grew up believing I was." 

"I'm — I'm sorry, Swan, I shouldn't have assumed—" 

"No, you shouldn't have." 

"You're right though, love. I, too, spent much of my life alone. My mum was sick and passed when I was a boy, and my father took my brother and I on a ship to a far-off land. Until one day, we woke up and he was gone. He left us there to settle a debt and we never saw him again." 

Silence settles between them for a moment, and then he smiles. "It seems you and I have quite a lot in common, then, love," he chides, but Emma barely hears him. She's too distracted by the parchment in her hand, which has revealed a map at some point in their conversation. 

"Hook—" she tries, but he cuts her off.

"Apologies, I know, you're not my love ." 

"No, Hook, that's not it." 

Finally he looks at her, trying to find what she is talking about on her face, following her eyes down to the parchment in her hands. But there is something else that has changed, too, something about her . He can't quite put his finger on it, but he thinks he maybe sees a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

[caught-in-the-filter]

Six Sentence Sunday

(*gasp* I actually have a wip to post from!)

Here’s a little sneak peek of what I’m working on for @neverlandnewyear and @csjanuaryjoy coming in January:

“Are you sure?” He prodded with a smirk, “If you’d like me to keep you warm, love, you need only ask. I’d be more than willing to—”

“I said I’m fine,” Emma snapped, “and I’m not your love.”

“Suit yourself.” Hook rolled back onto his side. “Like everything else on this island, Neverland nights are not kind. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”