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spartanguard · 1 year

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green with envy

Summary: Being back in Storybrooke brought up a lot of emotions in Emma—some forgotten, some new, and mostly unpleasant. Is that why she literally seems to be turning green with envy? And what can she do about it? (canon-divergent-ish from 3x14)

A/N: Hello! I am still here! This is just a kind of silly idea I've had floating around for a while, and finally finished. All the thanks to @optomisticgirl for looking it over! Hope you enjoy it!

rated T | 5.7k | AO3

Emma was wired with nervous energy as she and her dad shuffled into the loft. Finding the Witch’s hideout—and apparently that she had been holding the supposedly-dead Dark One captive—was definitely jarring, but it wasn’t the only thing that had her on edge.

That moment with Hook in the woods was still playing through her mind.

“If it can be broken, that means it still works.”

Despite the distance she’d put between them after it (even though she came dangerously close to closing it), the idea lingered. She hated that he wasn’t as wrong as she wanted him to be, but mostly, she was envious that he could still have such an optimistic outlook, especially knowing that he’d been through as much shit as her, if not more, in the heartbreak department.

Jealousy wasn’t a good look on anyone, but that hadn’t stopped her from metaphorically taking on the same pallor as the forest around her. So she was going to try to ignore that—and him—as much as she could. There were much bigger issues at hand. But for now, she’d settle with a nap and a drink.

Cruelly, though, this new curse had taken her mother’s expectant condition into account, and upon inspection of the cabinets and fridge, there wasn’t a drop of anything harder than ginger ale in the loft. She was making a mental note to bug Granny for the good stuff once she got back to the inn, but her mom had a different idea.

“Well, Zelena left this tea here,” Snow offered, holding what looked like a homemade tea bag. “It’s green, so it’s got too much caffeine for me, and your father doesn’t like it. Why don’t you take it?”

Eh, what the hell; it would do in a pinch. And Emma did have to admit, as she sipped it from one of the mugs she’d favored before the first curse had broken, that it was probably the best green tea she’d had in a while, even better than from her favorite sushi place in New York.

It worked, for a bit, even though it made her a little homesick for the Big Apple. (The shot of whiskey she eventually got from Granny helped, too.)

And, like she was prone to, she swallowed down all those difficult feelings as she drifted off to sleep that night.

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The alarm on her phone came way too early the next morning, even if it was one of her favorite songs. She started to groan and curl inward, until she remembered that Henry was still asleep, and quickly silenced both her phone and herself. She shivered a bit as she got out from under the thick covers, wishing she could stay in the warmth but knowing she had stuff to do.

That didn’t stop the brief pang of jealousy as she looked over at Henry, still asleep and snug in his bed. But that was why she was doing this, right? To make sure he stayed safe and comfortable? She’d take a nap this afternoon or something.

As quietly as she could manage, she grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom to get dressed and ready. Except—was it just her, or were the lights in there terrible? She knew she was probably a little pasty after having spent most of the last year indoors, but she didn’t think she looked…green.

It looked better after she put on her foundation, though, so she finished her makeup, pressed a kiss on Henry’s head, grabbed her coat, and headed downstairs to meet her parents and the rest of their motley witch-hunting crew.

She blatantly ignored the flip of her stomach when she saw Killian was already in the sitting room, quickly jumping into business with her parents, who were also expectedly punctual. They set a plan for the day, and if Killian noticed that she intentionally put distance between them—both during their meeting and in their plan of action—he made no effort to breach it, thankfully.

Though even that was its own kind of torture—that he knew her so well as to give her space. Ugh.

Anyways. The rest of the day went without event—no progress, but no setbacks, either. She’d take that as its own kind of win, and couldn’t wait for one of Granny’s grilled cheeses for dinner.

At least, she had been, until she walked into the diner and saw Killian seated at the counter, leaning across it with a lascivious smirk on his face as he apparently flirted with Ruby. That jealous feeling from this morning turned her stomach again, so badly that she made a dash for the restroom. She thought she heard a “Swan” spoken on her breeze as she crossed the dining room, but she didn’t want to stop.

In the privacy of the ladies’ room, she took a deep breath. The nauseous feeling dissipated, but the longing didn’t quite. She splashed some water on her face to cool the flush that had arisen, and put a bit on her neck, too—but when she brought her hand back, it wasn’t red on her throat…it was more green, all along the left side. Not anything dramatic, but a noticeable change from her normal skin tone, and she couldn’t blame it on the lighting this time..

What the hell? Was there something wrong with the water? Maybe she should shower at her parents’ tomorrow.

But for now, she just tied her scarf tighter around her neck and decided to call it a night; there were some Pop-Tarts in the room that would have to suffice (goodness knew she’d had worse meals in the past).

She hit something warm, solid, and wrapped in leather when she emerged, though. “Love, are you alright?” Killian had a steadying hand on her shoulder and worry in his brow.

“I’m fine; just tired,” she said quickly, stepping away from him—and pointedly avoiding his eyes.

“Swan, I know that’s not the whole of it,” he protested as she started to move for the stairs.

“Well, it’s certainly part,” she tossed back. “I’ll see you tomorrow; tell Ruby I said hi.”

She probably didn’t need to say that last part, but the jab felt good as she took the stairs two at a time. (The fact that he had no response—and knowing it was a low blow—wasn’t something she’d think about until she was safe in her room. She also may have feigned a headache as a reason to dim the lights, lest Henry notice the odd spot on her neck.)

═══════════════

It seemed like the spot had faded the next day; or, at least, she’d done a good job of convincing herself it had. She still needed her scarf to cover it, though; winter in Storybrooke necessitated one, so no one would really notice.

In fact, she was feeling totally fine until she got down to the dining room. Henry had headed down first (only after promising not to talk to strangers, which was still most of town) and she saw him across the way, seated at a booth, laughing. For a minute, she was confused, until she saw David was sitting across from him.

She should have been happy to see that, even without Henry’s memories, he was still getting on well with his grandfather, and how good David was with him regardless. She may still have a hard time accepting David as her father, but there was no denying the man’s paternal leanings.

The longer she watched, the more that sour, jealous feeling stirred in her stomach again. Henry didn’t have a complicated relationship with his father—not that he knew about, anyway; and he didn’t have to grapple with all the fairytale BS in his background. (She may have told him that he came via stork when he asked when he was 5, but that was still more probable than being shoved through an intra-realm portal in a tree.)

But at the same time, she didn’t want to rain on their good time with her descending mood, so she took the last seat on the counter instead. Granny almost immediately noticed the way she was slouching in her seat. “Hot chocolate and bear claw?” she called out from the other end of the bar.

“Please,” Emma gratefully replied.

It only took her a minute to get the necessary sustenance to Emma, and she expertly slid them across the counter. But before Emma could even pick up the mug, Granny’s firm grip was holding her chin. “Hold on there, girl; you have something on your nose.”

Emma had never known the feeling of a grandparent tending to her; it was simultaneously touching and embarrassing—especially when Granny used a little too much force trying to wipe away whatever was on her face. “Huh; it’s not budging. How did you get green on there, anyway?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and peering closer.

Shit—more of that? What the hell? “Oh, I must have knocked into something and bruised it,” she quickly lied, hopping up off her stool and out of Granny’s grasp, covering her nose with her hand. “I should…probably go look at it; I’ll bring the dishes back,” she blurted out, grabbing her plate and mug, and hurrying back upstairs (well, as fast as she dared with a mug of steaming hot cocoa).

Once back in her room, she set the food items aside and ran to the bathroom, flicking on the light. Sure enough, there was a greenish smudge on the side of her nose—not terribly dark, but noticeable.

Quickly, she grabbed her concealer stick and attacked her nose. A few times. That seemed to moderately cover it up. But this was getting weird; just what was in the water here that was causing—whatever this was? A rash, maybe? She’d gotten hives from nerves a couple of times; maybe this was related?

She stared for one more minute, but then just sighed and put her concealer in her pocket. There were bigger things to worry about than some weird blemish.

To her dismay, she ended up needing it more often than she expected. It seemed like every time she was in the restroom, she was reapplying makeup on some new spot. The rest of her nose changed color after a meeting in the mayor’s office, where Regina and Robin were shamelessly flirting (and honestly, they should just get together—but she envied that they both seemed so comfortable together); she had to cover up a spot on her chin after patrolling the woods with Robin and Roland and being in awe of how great a dad Robin was (she was jealous of how confident he was, and maybe a bit that Henry didn’t have any positive male role models like Roland did in abundance); and nearly caked it on the back of her hand during another stop at Granny’s, just after seeing a mouthwatering-looking grilled cheese on someone else’s plate.

As she frowned at her pallor in Granny’s washroom, still coveting that sandwich, she had to remind herself that envy didn’t look good on anyone, even though that was all she’d been feeling all day.

Wait—was that it?

Was she literally turning green with envy?

This was Storybrooke; stranger things had certainly happened. (Flying monkeys, anyone?)

But…this seemed like a step too far. No, it was just a weird rash or something. She’d just make a dermatologist appointment when they got back to New York, she’d get some cream, and it’d go away in a couple weeks. Yup, that was all.

And everything was fine until she went back out to meet Henry for dinner. She glanced around the dining room for him, only for her stomach to turn more than once.

First, when she saw Killian seated at the counter with Tink, deep in what seemed like a friendly, light conversation. There was a salacious smirk on his face, but Tink looked to be giving it right back to him—especially when he threw his head back and laughed, showing off the cords of his neck and that constantly teasing bit of chest hair that seemed to become even more exposed as his body heaved and shook. She’d love to have something like that with him, but her damn walls and worries kept that from happening.

Forcing herself to look away, her gaze settled on her parents, seated together on one side of a booth. The way they were cuddled together was almost sickly sweet, but what really got to her was the way David’s hand rested high on Snow’s so-round baby bump, likely feeling her future little sibling move around. God, was Granny chopping onions? She wiped some mist from her eyes, but it was hard to ignore the overwhelming jealousy she felt—both that her baby sibling would always know they were loved and wanted, and that she had to go through her own pregnancy just like she’d done everything else in life: alone.

God, she was queasy from how much it stung—both of those sights. Hopefully no one had seen her yet because, oh god—she was gonna be sick.

Fast as she could, she ran back to her room, just making the toilet in time before bile came up. She felt flushed and angry and bitter, even if she really had no reason to feel those things—or every reason to, and had just been triggered too many times in one day.

She turned back to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing a bit on her face to hopefully cool her overheated skin. She closed her eyes and did briefly enjoy the sensation; it helped a bit. At least, until she opened her eyes.

Because when she did, it became blatantly obvious that her hands were green.

And so were her forearms, when she pushed up her sleeves.

And then she looked in the mirror—and let out a yelp. Because whatever this new skin condition was had covered her entire face and neck now—even her scalp, when she moved her hair a bit to check. It wasn’t an ugly green, at least—kind of a light fern-y color—but still, so wrong.

What the fuck was going on?

She felt her face; her skin didn’t have any different texture than it usually had, so maybe the rash idea was out.

Algae in the water, maybe? No; that didn’t do…this, whatever this was.

She’d look perfect if she wanted to audition for Wicked once they got back to New York, but there wasn’t enough concealer in the whole town to cover this up until then.

For a moment, she was envious of the way she looked when she woke up that morning—and, to her horror, watched herself turn a shade of green darker as that jealous feeling overcame her.

Fuck. She hadn’t been wrong—she was literally turning green with envy.

She groaned and hung her head. This. This was why she wanted to go back to New York. Where none of this stupid magical shit happened. At least, she had to assume that was the cause; she’d worry about the ‘how’ later; for now, she just had to not make it worse.

Maybe if she just stayed away from the stuff that seemed to be triggering it, it might reverse itself? With all the other crap going on, she didn’t want to pile this on—but at the same time, she knew trying to go out and about would inevitably draw attention to it, and her mom or someone would want to fix it.

But mainly—how the hell would she explain it to Henry?

So yeah, trying to resolve on her own was the best plan of action.

She called down to Granny to see if she could run up some food; the old wolf was confused by the request but complied, and Emma was careful to make sure she’d gone back downstairs before opening the door to grab the (perfect, beautiful, delicious) plate of grilled cheese and onion rings.

Playing the headache card again bought her another night in the dark with Henry, but she’d have to come up with a valid reason for that tomorrow. (Was it logical to say there was a power surge and the room was out of electricity? Even though there were other empty rooms on the floor? Eh, that was a tomorrow Emma problem.)

Thankfully, he didn’t question it again, and she was able to chalk up the hoodie wrapped tight around her head to the room being drafty.

But the next morning was another story. She woke before he did and tiptoed to the bathroom, but there was no change in her complexion. Damn.

She managed to get back under the covers and wrap them around her head before Henry stirred. Bless her caring boy, he figured she was still asleep and moved quietly around the room as he got ready before gently shaking her “awake”. “Hey Mom, you want to get some breakfast?”

She had to feign sounding ill. “Sorry, kid; I’m not feeling the best,” she said weakly. “Maybe go see if Killian wants to go with you? And ask if you can hang out with him today?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a stomach bug; I’m feeling a little green around the gills,” she said, then winced at the accuracy. “Give me a day and I should be fine.”

“Are you sure? Want me to get you some ginger ale?”

“Mm, maybe later; I just want to sleep right now.” Thank god her internal lie detector wasn’t hereditary.

“Alright,” he said, though he sounded uncertain. “I’ll check on you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she chuckled. “Have fun.”

She felt him press a kiss to the blanket wrapped around her head, then waited until she heard the door click shut to remove it. Hopefully, she could convince Granny to do delivery again.

Several minutes later, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling her phone absentmindedly (she’d been about to call Granny when she got distracted by a Facebook notification) when a sudden, insistent knock on the door made her jump and drop the device in her lap.

“Swan? Are you alright, love?”

Dammit. She should have known Hook would want to check up on her after Henry talked to him. Though, based on the way he’d been flirting with every other woman in town the last two days, she was mildly surprised.

“I’m fine,” she called back. “Just a stomach thing; I’ll be good by tomorrow. Can you watch Henry today?”

“Of course, but who’s going to look after you?”

She scoffed. “Me. I can take care of myself.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” he said softly; she almost didn’t hear it through the thin door.

“I’ve made it this far,” she bit back. “I’ll survive another day.”

“Can I bring you anything, then?”

“No!” she yelled, mostly out of panic; knowing him, he wouldn't be satisfied to leave her something without actually seeing her. “I’ll be fine; just—go.”

He sighed, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him hanging his head in frustration. “Can you at least open the door for a moment? Assuage my worries?”

She rolled her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I look super gross.” That part wasn’t entirely a lie, at least.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Trust me,” she lamented, looking over her chartreuse hand. “Seriously, just—take Henry fishing or something, or go hang out with Tink; I know you’d be happier hanging out with her.”

“Swan, you do realize that by insisting on my absence, I’m far more likely to want to stay?”

Emma groaned at his persistence and flopped back on the mattress, making her phone clatter to the floor.

“What was that? Hold on; I’m coming in.”

“No!” she shouted again, jumping up and running for the door. Henry hadn’t locked it so Hook had no trouble turning the knob. But she was on her feet immediately, and he’d only opened the door a few inches before she was slamming her whole body against it, forcing it shut.

“Emma, what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Nothing! Can’t I just have a day to myself?”

“If it were that simple, then why feign illness?”

“Well, I thought that meant people would leave me alone, but I guess I was wrong.” Who knew she’d long for the days when she didn’t have people looking out for her—but, more importantly, expecting her to save the day? She held her hand up, and sure enough, it turned another shade of green darker. At least she’d have good camouflage the next time she went into the forest.

“Perhaps it’s because people care about you,” Killian snapped. He may not have said it specifically, but they both knew he was referring to himself. “Have you considered that?”

“Yeah, well, maybe they care too much. The sooner they figure that out, the better.” She was being dramatic, she knew, but until she got over this thing, it’d be better to keep people at arm’s length.

“Swan,” he nearly whined. “You can’t possibly still think so little of yourself. There are so many people here who—”

“Don’t even start,” she cut off. “I’ve heard that hope speech before. But it’s not exactly something you can easily accept when your whole life, you’ve been some orphan freak. No one wants that.”

Well, now it was getting personal, it seemed. Why did he always have that way of cutting to the deep of her issues?

“You are not some ‘orphan freak’, love,” he replied, almost indignantly. “You are a fierce, strong—”

Okay. It was time to shut him up. Without even thinking, she swung the door open and finished his sentence for him. “Green-skinned weirdo?”

It was rare she was able to render him speechless; this situation wasn’t quite the confidence boost it normally would be, though. His jaw hung slack and she could see his eyes roving over what skin he could see (not much outside of her hoodie and sweats).

After an eternal several seconds, he closed his mouth and swallowed. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a smirk. “That’s quite the look, Swan—it rather complements your eyes.”

She rolled her eyes; of course he’d turn this into flirting, so she tried to close the door on him. But he stopped it with his hand. “Hold on, darling—might I come in? I suspect you don’t want to draw any wandering eyes into our forthcoming conversation.”

She hung her head; he was right—they needed to talk, but she didn’t want anyone else to see her. “Where’s Henry?”

“He’s downstairs with Ruby.”

She snorted. “Surprised you’re not there to properly teach him how to flirt.” It slipped out automatically.

“Beg your pardon?” Killian sounded slightly offended.

“You heard me,” she scoffed. “I saw you with her yesterday; I know you can’t resist her charms,” she replied, mimicking his accent (poorly).

His brow furrowed, but not in anything resembling the shame she wanted to see on his face; no, his eyes were wandering over her own face and neck in a way that made her feel exposed. She looked away, down at her feet, but that was when she noticed that the skin of her hand was yet darker. Dammit.

She just sighed and stepped aside, extending an arm to invite him in. He slipped into the room swiftly and quietly with a grace that she was doing her damnedest to not be envious of; surely there was a maximum on this thing? (Plants could only turn so green, right? Maybe this was a…chloroform? No, chlorophyll—thing. She’d never paid much attention in science class.)

She closed the door quickly behind him, and he turned to face her, his jacket swishing distractingly around his legs and making it seem like he was taking up more of the room than he actually did. Or maybe it was just the overall immensity of his presence in the room, or the weight of the tension between them.

“Is it safe to assume that this isn’t a cosmetics choice?” he started, gesturing at her face.

“Obviously,” she confirmed, rolling her eyes. “And last I checked, my foundation hadn’t gotten moldy.” Though she did need some more—she’d just about used hers up with all of this.

“Am I to gather, then, that it’s something a bit more…supernatural in its occurrence?”

“If that’s your fancy way of asking if it’s magic, then yeah; at least—I think so,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how or why it started all of a sudden, but every time I feel jealous, I get a little more…like this. Looking like the freaking Wicked Witch herself.”

“Do you think it was her?”

“I don’t know; maybe,” she huffed, then flopped down on the end of the bed. “I hadn’t exactly gotten that far. It’s not like I’ve really had a chance to think about the things happening to me. It’s as good a guess as any, but it doesn’t solve a damn thing.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he concurred, his voice gentle, and she could almost cry—it was the first time anyone had just simply agreed with her in nearly a week and let her vent. “What started it?”

She recounted as much as she could remember over the last couple of days—the little things, like wanting to sleep in or coveting a sandwich, and the bigger emotions from last night when it came to her parents and Henry. She couldn’t bring herself to mention anything regarding her emotions towards him, though.

He listened, but tilted his head when she was done. “That doesn’t seem like everything, love. I’m no expert on magic, but I know it involves emotion, and you haven’t described anything particularly deep.”

“What, seeing my parents getting ready to have the perfect life with their new baby isn’t a deep enough emotion? Why would they still want me around when they’ll have everything they ever wanted with that one?”

It was a cathartic release of everything she’d been holding in on that subject pretty much ever since they got back to town. Killian said nothing, just stared intently, seemingly inviting her to go on—so she did.

“And Henry—I’m so jealous of the fact that he doesn’t have to deal with all this magical bullshit, but even the fact that he’s missing those memories is magic in itself and…god, I wish I was still there with him. I miss our old life, and I feel like such an awful parent having to lie to him constantly here.

“And you!” she continued, now on a roll. “I’m still mad and a little heartbroken over the Walsh crap—absolutely not in the market for a new guy, at all—but you’re here and being all caring and I think, y’know, maybe? But then I see you flirting with Tink and Ruby and I just remember—why on earth would you want someone with all my baggage?”

She paused to catch her breath. Then, in a small voice, ended with, “And how much of an asshole am I for thinking all of this?”

She wasn’t prepared for whatever judgment was on Hook’s face, so she just fell backwards against the bed and threw her arm over her eyes.

No response came immediately, but then she felt a dip in the mattress near her and the springs squeaked as Hook took a seat a respectable distance away. “A completely normal one,” he finally said. “Perhaps even justified.”

She rolled her eyes, even if they were still hidden under her arm. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. It’s not uncommon for an older child to feel replaced by a younger one; even if the age gap is a bit more dramatic here, given the course of your life, it’s completely understandable. And it’s even more so that you miss what you and Henry had; even if it started falsely, the last year was real, and special, it sounds like.” There was a bittersweet edge to his voice at that, reminding her that he still hadn’t been fully honest with her regarding his past year. Not important now, though.

“And, love,” he went on. His careful fingers found her wrist and gently pulled her arm away from her face. She was hesitant to meet his gaze, but when she finally did, the condescending look she was expecting wasn’t there—only a small, almost insecure smile and understanding. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d be concerned about the complications of your past, when my own is significantly moreso—a fact of which I know you are aware.”

He had her there; it was no use to try to argue that fact.

“And when it hasn’t stopped me from admiring you thus far,” he added, a bit quickly—like he was blurting out a confession, even though he’d never exactly hid his feelings. She certainly hadn’t forgotten the Echo Cave, or their brief encounter prior to that. The one that meant a lot more than she’d told herself it did.

Although—she’d kind of just admitted as much, hadn’t she? She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed (and wondered what color it came up as).

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your daydreams didn’t include some green freak,” she countered, rolling on her side away from him and crossing her arms. Even if she had just accidentally admitted her feelings, that didn’t mean she was ready to pursue them right away. So back behind her walls it was.

“Emma,” he sighed, sounding almost exasperated. Good. He stood and stepped around her, looking down at where she was pouting. “Despite my care for my personal appearance, I’m not actually that shallow. I don’t give a damn what’s on your outside; your spirit and your soul are what’s beautiful to me. And don’t you dare doubt it for a second.”

She swallowed; he sounded genuinely angry, and she could see something resembling hurt within the fire in his gaze. She sat up. “You really mean that?” she asked quietly.

He sat down again next to her. “Bloody hell, love; how else can I convince you?”

Her entire body was suddenly aware of how close his was to her—even more than their moment in the woods the other day. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling heat from the adrenaline of their conversation, or just off of him, or both, but she found herself swaying ever so slightly closer to him, chasing it, until her face was hardly even an inch from his.

He was watching her carefully, his blue eyes taking her in under the studious set of his brow. She held his gaze, but then glanced at his mouth—and that was all it took.

Almost involuntarily, she leaned the rest of the way in and found his lips with hers. He stiffened at first, but only for a fraction of a second before leaning into her, his hand finding its way into her loose hair.

She hadn’t forgotten how skilled he was in this department, but it was a nice refresher; like their first time, she grabbed his jacket to get closer and deepen the kiss. His hand slid down, gripping her waist, and she felt his hook settle on her other hip.

And as they sat there making out, it was like a weight lifted off her—yeah, she was dealing with some pretty heavy feelings, but she didn’t need to feel guilty about it; she just needed to feel them, and then move on. The people that loved her would love her no matter what. She maybe wasn’t ready to admit that was what the situation was with Killian, but he was on her side—and that was enough.

And goddamn, could he kiss.

She couldn't help it—she was craving more and threw her leg over his lap to straddle him. But he wasn’t ready for that and ended up falling back on the mattress, bringing her with him. “Oh, shit—sorry!” she blurted out (while trying to catch her breath).

He just laughed, that deep chuckle that did nothing to tamper her growing arousal. “It’s plenty fine, love,” he wheezed, grinning with his eyes squinted shut.

She at least rolled to the side so she wasn’t crushing him while he tried to catch his breath, and couldn’t help but laugh a bit herself. Finally, he turned his head to her and opened his eyes, a soft expression settling over him. “There you are, Swan,” he said, reaching across and brushing her hair out of her face. “Looking more yourself already.”

Huh? She glanced at her hand where it had settled on his chest, temptingly close to the open vee of his tunic. It was back to its normal (probably too) pale color.

“Though I must admit, the green had been growing on me,” he quipped. She lightly slapped his chest where her hand rested. “You seem to be in better spirits, then,” he observed.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Thanks for getting me through that.”

“Anytime, love,” he said softly, and she knew he meant it.

So she kissed him again.

(Several times.) (And maybe a bit more than kiss.)

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They did eventually meet back up with Henry, who had been hanging out with Ruby in the meantime. He might have given Emma a knowing smirk she pretended to ignore, but was mostly happy she was feeling better. (And later, when he got his memories back, was far too amused by the fact his mom was dating Captain Hook.)

She might have leaned a little bit harder into her parents’ hugs that week. And might have enjoyed a couple more grilled cheeses.

But the most satisfying moment came during an encounter with Zelena at Granny’s, once they knew she was their enemy. She looked at Emma and sneered. “Why aren’t you green?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Killian, who was giving her an encouraging smirk. “Guess I just didn’t let envy get the better of me. Better question is: why aren’t you?”

Zelena screamed in frustration and disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. They hadn’t beat her yet, but with everyone who loved her on her side, they were bound to yet.

Though if she took a few extra kisses from her pirate for moral support…that was her business.

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thanks for reading! tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @thisonesatellite @iverna @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #ouat 3b #ouat 3x14 #transformation #ish #my ff

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stahlop · 1 year

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All of Me (loves all of you)

Merry Christmas @cosette141! Here is your Christmas gift from your Secret Santa! I had so much fun writing this little fix it, canon divergence piece for you. I know season 4a is one of your favorites and I just happen to be in the middle of reviewing that season, so it worked out perfectly! I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to @xarandomdreamx for being my beta

And thank you to the Captain Swan Secret Santa for putting this on again!

Rated: T

Ao3 Link

Emma slammed her bug into park and started beating on the steering wheel. The words of the Snow Queen echoed through her mind.

The only way this ends is you embracing who you are.

But Emma had embraced who she was. Wasn’t that why the wand had worked in the past? Wasn’t that why she had wanted to stay in Storybrooke? Because she was embracing who she was? She just needed to get her stupid powers under control, and without Regina’s help she just couldn’t get a grasp on them.

Right now, she just needed a place to hide.

As if her magic understood her need, her hands sparked and her car went back into drive and started driving itself.

“Great,” Emma sighed to herself. “Just like the Ford Anglia in Harry Potter.”

It deposited her in front of Gold’s cabin in the middle of the woods. The last time she’d been here he’d been beating the crap out of Mo French. She hoped it had been cleaned since then.

She slammed the car door as she got out, putting her red leather jacket back on to ward off the chill. She didn’t even bother checking if the door was locked, her magic automatically opening it for her.

“That would’ve been useful when I was younger,” she murmured to herself. The place was spotless. Definitely been cleaned up since the Mo French incident. Emma wondered if Gold even remembered he owned this place. It didn’t look like anyone had used it at all. Everything was in perfect order. No rumpled bed sheets, nothing in the sink, not even any wear on the sofa. However, there did happen to be a thin layer of dust over everything. Emma found a roll of paper towels, tore off a piece, and started dusting the cabin. She was already beginning to feel calmer.

—-----

Henry had never been so thankful that driving in the woods had to be done slowly. After the debacle with his mom, he’d hid while he saw the encounter with the Snow Queen. He hated how the Snow Queen could get under his mom’s skin so easily, especially as he’d seen his mom go up against his mother without any regard for the consequences. What was it that made her think the Snow Queen was worse than the Evil Queen had been?

He watched as the car drove itself through the winding roads and managed to catch a glimpse of it as it stopped in front of a cabin in the woods. He wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but he was sure someone back at the loft would know.

He followed the road back into town and ran to the loft. He could hear his grandparents, Killian, and Elsa arguing from outside the door about continuing to look for Emma some more.

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to be found.” Killian said, quite angrily, though Henry could tell he was also worried. “Since, you know, that’s what she bloody told us!” They may have only started dating, but Henry liked how concerned he was about his mom, and that he wanted to give her the space she’d requested.

“Well,” David began, “the good news is, thanks to the ice wall, Emma can’t leave town.” Henry scoffed. Of course Grandpa was only concerned about whether his mom would leave. Not whether she was okay or what she was feeling.

“The longer she isolates herself, the worse it’ll get. Her magic will just keep spiraling,” Henry heard Elsa say. It almost made him run right back to the woods to try and talk to her again. “When your powers are out of control, everything’s upside down, and you don’t want to be anywhere near the people you care about,” Elsa continued.

“Wonderful,” Killian said with a sarcastic tone Henry knew he used when he was trying to cover up his own feelings. “Well, should we send Sneezy after her, or Happy? Which is the dwarf she despises?” Henry silently chuckled at Killians words, making his head throb and probably bleed more from his most recent encounter with his mom in the woods. But he continued to listen to what was being said.

“I was so scared that I would hurt Anna until I finally realized you can’t run away from the people who love you, because in the end they’re the only ones who can help you.” Elsa finished. His grandparents began arguing again about what was best for Emma, but Henry took Elsa’s words to heart. He needed to send someone who could get through to his mom, who loved his mom, not someone who would just talk at her.

He took a minute to psych himself up before opening the door, just in time to hear David say “then we go out and find our daughter. Okay?”

“You don’t have to look anymore.” The adults all looked shocked to see him come through the door. Which, to be fair, he was supposed to have been sleeping upstairs. He absentmindedly put his hand to his injured head (he silently cursed himself for upsetting his mom enough that she accidentally had a burst of magic and hurt him, something she was trying so hard to not do) and pulled back his hand with spots of blood on it.

“What happened?” David asked concerned.

“Look, I’m sorry I snuck out, but I found her.” All the adults looked at him in awe. He tried not to let it go to his head, knowing he’d found her when the rest of his family couldn’t. His grandparents began talking over each other to find out how she was, but all Henry was concerned about was Killian’s reaction. He looked…relieved, yet he still didn’t ask any questions. He knew Henry would answer them in his own time. He was exactly who Henry needed to send after his mom. He’d be the only one who could get through to her.

“I’d really like someone to look at this head injury I’ve managed to get,” Henry said, focusing his attention on Killian as he said it. Killian looked at Henry, his eyebrows raised in question, which he then quickly schooled and nodded in agreement. Luckily, his mom wasn’t the only person Killian could read like a book.

“I’ll take the lad and get him cleaned up.” Killian said before anyone else could volunteer. Henry quickly steered him to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You have to go to my mom!” Henry said, turning to face Killian. He expected to see relief on his face, but instead he saw something more conflicted.

“I don’t think your mother wants to see me, lad,” his face dropped, looking hopeless. He gestured to the cabinet; Henry quickly took out the medical supplies to keep up the pretext. Killian wet a small hand towel and motioned for Henry to turn so he could get a better look at the wound.

“You’re wrong!” Henry said adamantly, then winced as Killian wiped away the blood with the towel. “You heard what Elsa said, isolating herself will only make it worse. She’s at Gold’s cabin in the woods.” He tried to turn toward Killian but he kept him facing away from him. “Do you know where that is?”

“Aye, lad, I do.” Killian sounded almost resigned, like he still wasn’t sure if he should go. Henry finally wrenched from his grip and turned around.

“She’s scared and she’s afraid she’ll hurt someone. She just needs someone to reassure her that her magic isn’t bad. That it’s part of her. It’s like Elsa said, she needs someone who loves her..”

Killian looked shocked. Henry wondered if he’d overstepped. Despite the fact that Killian had been trying to court his mom for a few months now, they’d only started dating. Killian tilted his head down, not looking at Henry’s eyes.

“It’s that obvious, is it?” He let out a shaky breath. Henry didn’t think he’d ever seen him so vulnerable. The great Captain Hook worried that Henry knew he loved his mom.

“Well, mom’s oblivious, as usual. Or maybe she’s just using her magic as an excuse. You know how skittish she gets.” Killian gave a wry chuckle. “But you need to go. I think you’re the only one who’ll be able to get through to her. You actually listen to her. My grandparents are great, but they’re scared of her, whether they want to admit it or not.” Killian nodded in agreement. He fished out some gauze from the medical supplies Henry had brought out with a small piece of medical tape and affixed it onto Henry’s wound.

“Tis merely a scratch,” Killian gave Henry a small smile and stroked his hair. Henry understood the significance of this gesture - it was fatherly in nature. Another reason Henry knew he could trust him.

“Are you sure you know where Gold’s cabin is?” Henry wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it again.

Killian nodded. “Aye, lad. I’ve traipsed through these woods enough, I’ve got a good lay of the land. I didn’t realize the cabin belonged to the Crocodile.” He made to leave the bathroom, but turned back toward Henry. “Are you sure she’ll be alright with me going to her? I’m trying hard to respect her boundaries.” His face dropped in concern. Never did Henry think he’d feel sorry for Captain Hook.

“I think you’re the only one she will see. Though knowing mom, she’ll fight you at first. Killian smiled.

“Well, it wouldn’t be me and your mum if we weren’t fighting, would it?” A grin spread over Killian’s face and Henry thought maybe everything would be alright.

“I’ll distract the rest of them for as long as I can.” Henry said, returning the medical supplies to the cabinet he’d got them from. “You sneak out and get to mom.” Killian nodded his head in agreement.

Henry slipped back to the rest of the group. Mary Margaret started fussing over his head while David gave him a light reprimand for leaving the loft when they told him not to. Mary Margaret insisted on making something to eat since they’d all be out all night. They could use some rest before Henry told them where Emma was. As David had pointed out earlier, it’s not like she could leave town with the ice wall around it.

Henry could see Killian patting down his jacket and pants pockets. “Bloody Hell! I’ve left my talking phone in the back of your truck.” He announced though no one seemed to be paying attention. Mary Margaret was showing Elsa how the stove worked as she also gathered ingredients for pancakes. David was pacing around, most likely trying to decide what they should do after they’d refueled and recharged.

“It’s just called a phone.” David responded mechanically, watching as Killian headed for the door to retrieve it.

“What an impractical name. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Henry observed Killian go out the door, everyone else still too absorbed in what they were doing. Killian gave a quick, awkward wink to Henry - he knew Killian would not be back in two shakes.

—---

The calm Emma had been feeling immediately dissipated once she finished dusting. With nothing left to do with her hands, the sparking had started up once again. She sat on the edge of the couch staring at her hands, willing them to go back to normal. But the doubt rapidly crept in.

She’d hurt Henry.

She’d hurt her father and almost hurt Killian.

The look on her mother’s face.

How could they want to be around her after that?

How could she act like everything was normal after that?

Maybe Ingrid was right and she was a monster.

“You are nothing of the sort, love.” Emma looked up to see Killian leaning on the open door frame, his signature smirk overtaking his face. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or scared to see him.

“Did I say that out loud?” Killian nodded in the affirmative. Emma could tell he was being cautious. Usually he would say ‘aye’ and it would sound incredibly sexy. But she could see his casual smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and their usual blue was closer to a stormy gray. It would be upsetting if it wasn’t….sweet.

“How’d you find me?’ Emma asked warily. She could already feel the sparks in her fingertips coming to life as if a lightning storm was on its way.

“Henry.”

Emma’s hands went to hips. “I drove here!” She said incredulously. Killian just shrugged. She didn’t really know what to do with that. She loved Henry and she’d hurt him. She couldn’t risk hurting Killian too. It still amazed her that calling him Killian came as easily as drinking water after calling him Hook for so long. She’d known, logically, that his name wasn’t Hook. She’d called him Killian when he took care of Henry, before his memory had come back, but that had almost been like a role he was playing. The part of Captain Hook will be played by Killian Jones. And she’d called him Killian when Gold and Zelena had almost killed him and she’d lost her magic. Even after he got his hook back, he was now just Killian. But this person in front of her, the one trying so hard to give a casual indifference, she wasn’t sure who this was. He didn’t have the flirtiness of Hook or the undying devotion of Killian.

“Your family is worried about you, love. At least give them a call and let them know you’re alright.” Emma sighed. “Henry’s fine, by the way. Just a scratch.” He added. Emma pinched her face, already having forgotten about her altercation with Henry in the woods. The Snow Queen had come after that and then everything had been a blur.

“God, I’m the worst mother in the world.” She cried, sitting herself back on the couch, her head in her hands.

“No, love. You just have a great deal many distractions going on.” He took a small step inside the cabin. “Have you eaten?” Emma turned to see he held a bag from Granny’s. “Bear claws and a hot chocolate, just the way you like it.” He smiled, a real smile this time. One that actually made his eyes crinkle in that way that Emma knew he’d seen a lot in his lifetime, but also made him look sexy. As if on cue, her stomach growled. Killian took that as a sign that he could come inside and sit next to her on the couch. He passed her the bag and she took it gingerly, still afraid of what her magic might do, but it seemed to have calmed down with the prospect of food.

Silence permeated the room as she ate. The only sound they could hear was the wind whistling through the trees outside. How had they gone from dates and kisses and letting him in about her past, to this uncomfortable silence? This was not who they were. They were all flirtations, and banter, and heated glares. Emma didn’t like it at all.

She was about to say something, anything, when the door slammed shut. They both turned to look and then saw heavy snow falling outside the windows.

“Crap!” She ran over to the slammed door and pulled it open. Within the few minutes it had taken to eat, there was already nearly an inch of snow on the ground, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Big, fat, fluffy flakes were falling at an alarming rate. “Crap!” She yelled again. “Killian, we’ve got to get back to town!” Killian shook his head.

“We can’t drive in this, Emma!” The wind had picked up and was now howling around them, her hair whipping around her face. “Get back in the cabin.” Emma wanted to scream at him that they needed to leave, but at the pace the snow was coming down, she knew he was right. They’d be trapped and at the mercy of the elements. She nodded and ran back inside with Killian following close behind.

“Think you can light a fire for us?” He asked, nodding to the pile of wood near the fireplace. Emma looked at her hands, fearful for a moment that she might put a hole in the cabin like she did the sheriff station (she really hoped Regina could magic that back together ASAP), instead, she concentrated on the wood Killian was placing in the fire. She closed her eyes, and then hoped for the best.

“Good job, Swan! I knew you could do it!” Emma opened her eyes to see the fire spark to life and Killian grinning like a fool. The expression on his face was so infectious, she felt a grin spread across her face too. Killian was looking at her in awe. “Come here, Swan.” he beckoned her to him with a gesture of his hand. Emma took it and suddenly he was kissing her.

As someone who had initiated most of their kisses, Emma felt slightly out of control when Killian would kiss her first. She’d only been in one relationship where the other person kissed her first and it made her feel wild and out of control. She hated feeling like that now. But the more Killian kissed her, his lips caressing hers gently, the more safe she felt. The more she felt seen. The more she felt treasured (and that was saying a lot considering he was a pirate). She pulled away at that revelation. Killian’s eyes were still closed and instead of opening them to look at her, he leaned his head forward so that his forehead touched hers. It felt more intimate than the kiss they had shared, and it made Emma extremely uncomfortable, even though she didn’t want to feel that way.

“Emma…” Killian’s voice almost sounded broken, like he was afraid she would tell him it was a one time thing again, which was ridiculous since they were….dating. But at the same time, Emma could see why he might think that. Or maybe she was overthinking things. Looking for an excuse so that she wouldn’t be too hurt when he decided to end things. Except…she didn’t think Killian would ever want to end things. And she wasn’t sure which scared her more, him wanting to leave her or him never wanting to leave her, so she decided to deflect instead.

She took a step back from him. “This isn’t a regular snowstorm. I think this is the Snow Queen.” Emma said as she headed toward the window. In the short time that she and Killian had been together, there seemed to already be a foot or two of snow on the ground.

“I gathered that, love, seeing as it’s too early for snow storms of this caliber, even being this far north.” She arched an eyebrow at him regarding his knowledge about Maine’s seasons, and he gave her a smile back. Maybe her fears were just that - fears. Why else would he change his entire wardrobe, hang out with her family, and learn about Storybrooke if he wasn’t planning on sticking around?

“She wasn’t happy about me not wanting to be her sister. She keeps trying to convince me that no one can love me with my magic. From what Elsa told me, magic isn’t abundant in Arendelle. People are afraid of it there, so I’m guessing the Snow Queen has some traumatic backstory that makes her think she knows everything there is to know about how people feel about magic.” Killian nodded, waiting for her to continue. That was something she’d never had, someone who actually listened to her. When she was younger she’d just been some dumb kid. And now her parents were too busy with their own traumas and trying to finally raise a child from birth. Well, Emma really couldn’t blame them for wanting that. That feeling of finding out she hadn’t raised Henry when she got her memories back was devastating. The fact that Regina basically gave her a do over, well, at least she still had those false memories to hold onto. Emma realized she’d gone off on a tangent in her head. Killian was still expectantly waiting for her to go on.

“She keeps calling me a monster, which I’m not. I have saved people with my magic.” She was angry now, which did nothing to keep the sparks at bay.

“I can attest to that, Swan. Without your magic, I’d be without my shadow, dead on Neverland. Or killed by a giant icicle that the Snow Queen conjured up.” Killian walked over to her because she’d apparently been pacing in front of the window as more and more flakes floated to the ground. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t a threat from the Snow Queen. He took her hands in his and Emma was afraid that her magic would hurt him like it did Henry, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. “I’m a fan of every part of you. That includes your magic. You wouldn’t be the woman I’ve been chasing after without it.” He kissed the knuckles on both hands, which in the past would have made her squirm (in a good and bad way), but in this instance, it only reassured her. And because Emma couldn’t think of anything as poetic to say in return, she pulled him close and kissed him.

Their bodies melded into one as they walked over toward the small bed set up in the corner of the cabin. Emma certainly hadn’t expected this turn of events to happen tonight, but she couldn’t say she was sorry about it. Except when her knees hit the frame and she sat down, Killian did not follow her down, her lips chasing his as he backed away. He stayed standing and looked at her with something akin to fear behind his eyes.

“Before this goes any further, Emma, I have something to confess.”

—---

Killian hadn’t expected the day to take this turn. He’d come here to talk to Emma, to convince her to come back to the loft, and maybe convince her that everything the Snow Queen was saying to her was a load of rubbish. He hadn’t thought that things would lead to a bed. And despite having been a pirate for hundreds of years and having many a man’s wife, he didn’t want to do this with Emma with this secret hanging over his head.

Emma was staring at him, her face still flushed from their heated kiss. He was nervous, a feeling he hadn’t had since he became a pirate and raided his first ship. He was positive this was even more nerve wracking than that, because revealing his deal with Gold and what he’d been compelled to do might make Emma hate him. And while he could deal with any assortment of emotions from Emma, hate was the one that would undo him.

“I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you,” he began. Killian could see Emma’s face immediately fall, but he knew he had to get this out if he wanted any type of future with her. “Gold has been lying to Belle about the dagger. He gave her a fake, and I knew, so I blackmailed him. It’s how Elsa and I found the Snow Queen in the forest, and then how I got my hand returned to me for our date.” He was staring at the floorboards of the cabin as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointed look on Emma’s face, so he soldiered on and continued his tale. “Gold blackmailed me into helping him. He has a hat that collects magic powers. He forced me to collect a magical old man that he had some vendetta against. He knew I’d do whatever it takes to be with you, and he used it against me.” Tears stung his eyes as he spit the words out as fast as he could so he could get everything out. “I just wanted to be a better man for you, Swan.” He dared to peek up at her at this point. Her expression was one he’d never seen before and that made his heart drop into his stomach. “But I failed. And now because of it, I might lose you. I’m sorry.” He knew his apology was probably worthless, but he also knew it had to be said. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, head still tilted toward the floor. It felt like hours though he knew it was most likely only seconds. He hadn’t realized his hand was clenched until he felt a warmth radiating around it. He looked to see Emma holding his hand in hers. She didn’t look afraid, or upset, or filled with hatred, she looked concerned.

“Killian,” she breathed out a sigh. “You never have to be anyone but who you already are. I fell in love with Captain Hook, the pirate. You know I wanted you at the beanstalk and that’s why I left you up there. It wasn’t you I didn’t trust, it was myself. I…I’m not good with words like you are, but Killian Jones,” she moved directly into his line of sight so they could see eye to eye, “I love you.”

The world seemed to have gone silent after her declaration. Never in a million years would Killian have thought Emma would be the one to say ‘I love you’ first. He’d known from the first moment he’d met her that he could possibly fall for her, but his need to get revenge for Milah had still been too strong. It wasn’t until he saw how desperate she was to find her son and had offered his services in Neverland that he realized just how much he’d already fallen. And then, of course, after their first kiss and subsequent admission in the Echo Caves, he knew she was the one he would give up his revenge for.

Emma’s eyes had a watery sheen to them and Killian realized he’d probably been in shock far longer than he intended to. He could feel the sparks emanating from her hands that were still holding his, though slightly looser. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t said anything back or due to her unpredictable magic.

“Emma Swan,” he said, grabbing her small hand in his larger one. “Make no mistake. I love you too. I just never thought you’d admit it first.” Killian chuckled and saw Emma’s shoulders relax at his admission. She melted into his chest and he brought his arms around her in an embrace. He was sure Emma could feel his heart racing and he couldn’t help but smile at that. They stayed that way for a few minutes, just feeling the warmth from each other, listening to the crackling of the fire and the wind from the snowstorm outside.

“I think you help my magic.” Emma said so quietly that Killian almost thought he imagined she had spoken. She pulled away slowly, putting her hands up so they could both see that the sparks had disappeared. “Elsa told me her sister’s love helped her control magic, and I’ve noticed that when I’m around you I can control it better. Usually. Yesterday notwithstanding.” Killian nodded in understanding. Just like her powers to detect when someone is lying, all her powers seemed to go awry when she was overly stressed. Killian kissed the top of her head in reassurance.

“Emma, you love me. I never thought I’d find that again. I’m honored that our love helps you.” Emma smiled at his words before leading him back to the couch where they sat huddled together. Emma practiced her magic by floating logs onto the fire. She laughed as she did it with ease.

After a few moments of contemplative reflection (and stolen kisses) in front of the fire, Emma finally addressed what Killian had confessed earlier. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you blackmailed Gold and then he blackmailed you right back.” Killian froze, but Emma snuggled in closer to him. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just want to act like a normal couple sitting in front of a fire on a snowy day without thinking about Snow Queens and Dark Ones and magic fairytale nonsense.” Killian kissed her temple, smiling against her hair. Emma grabbed his hand and hook and brought it to her lap as she rested her head against his shoulder.

The Snow Queen may have tried to convince his Swan that her magic made her a monster, but to Killian, her magic made her the most amazing woman he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. He could only hope that whatever the Snow Queen threw at them next, that Emma used her love to defeat her. Killian vowed that he would stand by her no matter what because he knew Emma was his happy ending, the one, as a former villain, he never dared to hope he could ever have.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @wefoundloveunderthelight @earanemith

#csss2022 #csss22 #captain swan secret santa #cs canon divergence #cs s4 fix it #cs fanfic #cosette141

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cosette141 · 2 years

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Lost and Found (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 6

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Captain Swan

Author: cosette141

Words: 4.3k (this chapter) | 36k+ total (so far)

Summary: (Begin Again sequel) Emma had felt lost nearly her whole life, and Killian had lost everything he’d ever found. That is, until they found each other. With the Crocodile dead and Cora turned good, it seems happy endings have returned. However, new crises arise, threatening the budding family between them and Henry. But this is a family that always finds each other… and they have yet to fail. CS, Anti-Neal

a/n: Omg. Sorry for the wait on this one. I really wanted to make sure it came out okay, and I really hope it did lol. Without further adieu, the chapter we've been waiting for. ;) I hope I did it justice!

Chapter 6

Killian was exhausted.

He was still running, with no bloody idea where he was going to find Emma, holding onto pure hope to lead him in the right direction.

But somewhere amidst his fear and hopelessness, it almost felt like he was getting nearer to her, like a strange warmth that, for some reason, tingled at the end of his left arm.

He hasn't felt phantom pains, or the illusion that his hand was still there for years.

He held onto that sliver of hope and kept running, ignoring how much he hurt, how tired he was, because bloody hell, he needed to find her.

He hadn't felt this kind of fear since Dreamshade took Liam.

Since Milah died in his arms.

Since Henry found him in that bloody building and told him the Crocodile was going to kill Emma.

Yet, this panic, this fear, was so much worse than all of it.

Because he's grown to care for Emma more than he'd ever cared for anyone.

And he could not bloody lose her.

He kept running.

--.-.-.

Emma ran, chest burning from the exertion, feeling the warmth in her grow more and more with every step.

Killian's hook was a North Star, and it was leading her to him, she could feel it. Her fingers held the steel as tightly as she'd hold his own hand. Twigs snapped into her face, burning her cheeks as she went but she didn't care.

The glow was nearly as bright as the moon, and she was so close she could feel it.

He was close.

He was so close.

Her eyes scanned the darkness as she ran, and she picked up her pace even more.

"Killian?!" she called breathlessly.

-.-.-.-.

"Killian?!"

Killian abruptly stopped, freezing, his head snapping up.

He knew that voice.

Emma.

That was Emma's voice.

It was coming from somewhere ahead of him.

Desperate hope flaring in his chest, he ran even faster.

"Emma!"

-.-.-.-.

"Emma!"

Emma stumbled to a stop in shock.

Killian.

That was Killian.

A shaky smile touched her lips, hope burning inside her, and she ran faster.

And suddenly, she could hear footsteps, hear the distinct swish and snap of a long coat billowing, the scent of the sea and leather touched the air—

Something between a laugh and a sob escaped her chest.

And there, emerging from the trees ahead of her—

Killian.

He was running just as fast as she was. The moment he saw her, his eyes widened, relief eliciting a broken smile from him.

And, finally, finally, so absolutely finally Emma reached him, crashing into him so hard she almost knocked him over. But he caught her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into him, as desperately as a drowning person would grasp help. She grabbed him just as tightly, as close to him as she could get, clinging to him, but no less than he was her. She buried her head in his chest, tears burning down her cheeks.

He was here.

"Emma," he gasped, and Emma just held him tighter.

"Killian," she whispered brokenly, a smile touching her lips.

"You're all right," he whispered into her hair, as if to himself more than her. "Gods, you're all right," he breathed.

"Killian," she choked out.

He was here.

She found him.

And he was okay.

Every sense of hopelessness melted away in an instant. She sank into his embrace, shutting her eyes even as another tear escaped them, never, ever, wanting to let him go. "You're okay," she broke out, her arms wrapping around him tighter, smiling brokenly against him—

—but it suddenly made Emma remember his condition.

She pulled sharply away from him, eyes suddenly wide. "You—you were sh-shot," she stammered, heart picking up, moving to look at him, find the injury—

"Aye… I was," he said, pulling her quickly back to him before she could, like he couldn't stand even that much distance between them. "But I've been healed. I'm all right, love."

Healed? Questions raced through Emma's mind, but right here, right now, she didn't care. He was okay, he was safe, she was in his arms and she didn't care how. Emma's eyes burned, and she buried her face back into his chest, her fingers tangling in the material of his jacket.

"I was so scared," she choked out, pulling back again to see him, needing to see the proof that it was really him in her arms. He only let her pull back a few inches, his muscles tightening, like a reflex keeping her close to him. Her fingers fisted tighter his coat, terrified he'd be pulled from her grip, that he'd be torn away from her again. "Th-there was so much blood," she breathed, mind flashing back to it. "I've never seen Henry so—" Her voice hitched. "Killian, when I saw…" Her eyes burned. "I thought you were—" She didn't say it, couldn't say it, but he heard it nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her tighter to his chest, shutting his eyes. "I couldn't let him take Henry." But he froze for a moment in her grip, voice breathlessly asking, "Is the lad all right?"

But it just burned Emma's eyes, both missing Henry and hearing just how much Killian cared for him. "Yes," she said through a watery smile, fingers curling tighter around his jacket. "Thanks to you. He's in Storybrooke with Regina; she's protecting him. Pan won't be able to get past her and Cora," she whispered.

But Killian's hold around her grew rigid, all his muscles taut, and Emma felt her heart skip. "Henry was never Pan's target," he breathed, making Emma pull back to see his eyes giving away just how terrified he's been.

Emma felt herself tense amidst the tremor of adrenaline and fear still wracking her frame. "What?"

That fear in Killian's eyes only deepened, his arms only curling even tighter around her, and it was only now Emma could feel she wasn't the only one shaking. "Emma, he wants you."

A chill swept down her spine.

Her heart stopped.

"Me?" she echoed, voice small.

"He needs you, or your magic, I presume," said Killian quickly. "He needed you to come to Neverland on your own. His plan had been to use Henry to lure you here."

Pan wanted her?

But why—?

Emma suddenly remembered the Lost Boy, who had tricked her.

He hadn't tried to kill her.

He'd tried to take her.

It suddenly made sense.

And so did Killian's near-crushing grip on her, holding her like he thought she'd be torn from him.

"When I… got here," said Killian unsteadily, and Emma's eyes snapped back to him. "I…" He winced. "I was… fading," he whispered, and Emma's fingers tightened around his jacket so hard it hurt. "Pan healed me, intending to use me to lure you, because…" Killian's eyes found hers, and shining among the panic and the desperation was a tiny shred of wonder. "Because even without Henry, you came… for me." A shaky smile touched his lips, that wonder breaking through like sun through clouds. "You came for me," he repeated, as if to himself. As if he still couldn't believe it.

"Of course I came for you," she whispered immediately, hurt at the idea that for all this time, he thought she wouldn't. That he thought he wasn't worth it.

Her response only seemed to make more touched disbelief color his eyes.

And then he was pulling her to him for a kiss, like he felt it was the only response that could express just what it meant to him.

His kiss sent warmth throughout Emma's entire body, and it felt like relief.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead to hers, still holding her to him in an embrace that felt so safe and so strong and like home.

"Gods, I missed you," he whispered, the pain in his words sending a flutter to her chest. But his panic cut through once again, and his eyes scanned the forest around them. "But you're not safe here, Emma—we need to get off this bloody island and back to Storybrooke." His eyes back on her, he stared at her for a moment, like a realization was dawning. And just short of horrified, he said, "You came for me alone?" His hold on her tightened even more with the idea.

"No," said Emma hollowly, biting her lip as fear trickled coldly through her. "Mary Margaret and David are here, and… Neal is, too," she said.

"Neal?" echoed Killian, eyes widening with shock. "Baelfire? I thought—"

"He didn't leave Storybrooke that day," said Emma. "He came back right before you—" Her throat closed up, and Killian's expression fell, hearing what she didn't say. Skipping past it, Emma said, "When I decided to use the bean to come after you, Mary Margaret, David and Neal insisted on coming."

"And where are they now?" asked Killian, voice tightening as his eyes found the clearing empty except for the two of them.

"I don't know," admitted Emma, every ounce of fear coating the words. "I was tricked by this Lost Boy; he lured me away from them and I let him," she mentally kicked herself again— "and he tried to attack me—" Killian's grip on her tightened, fear flashing through his eyes like lightning. "But I… my magic… reacted, and it saved me." Swallowing, she said, "But… when I tried to find them again, I… couldn't." Her eyes finding his pained ones, she whispered, "I got lost."

He pulled her to his chest again, hugging her tightly to him in an even tighter embrace Emma didn't think he ever planned to let go. "Emma, love," he breathed over her shoulder. "You've been alone?"

"Yeah," her small voice choked out, and she felt him pull her even closer. Her eyes burned, because he was here now, and she wasn't alone anymore. Her eyes shut tight, and she melted into his embrace, sinking into his strength.

"Thank the bloody gods we found each other," he whispered. "Luck must be on our side." "Actually…" she whispered, the ghost of a smile at the corners of her lips. "My… my magic found you."

He pulled back a little, to see her face, his expression perplexed. "What?"

Emma smiled a little, lifting her hand from where she'd been gripping his jacket, where she was still holding Killian's hook. It was still encased in the faint white glow, brighter than it's been yet. At his shock, she said, "I… I kept it with me, and everytime I… held it," she stumbled over the vulnerability a little, "I felt like I was closer to you." A soft smile graced his lips, touched and sad. "When I got lost, I realized that it was my magic telling me how to get closer to you." She smiled a little through the tears still in her eyes. "My magic found you," she said, smile growing.

But he smiled, moisture touching his own eyes, and he corrected softly, "You found me."

Heat touched Emma's cheeks, feeling a burn in her eyes, this time from relief and joy. She slowly tugged at his left arm, pulling it gently from her waist. She reconnected the hook in his brace, locking it with that clink. The glow faded, like it knew it was back where it belonged. Just like she was. She curled her fingers around the steel, this time feeling warmth stronger than his hook has ever elicited in her, because this time, she wasn't holding his hook, she was holding him.

She smiled, hugging him again. Never, ever, ever wanting to let him go.

Killian kissed her hair. "Do you think you can use your magic to find your parents?"

"I don't think I can," whispered Emma, fear sinking into her, dousing the momentary joy like water over a flame. "My parents used this kind of magic before. Rumpl—" She stumbled a little over speaking the name, the apartment flashing abruptly through her mind, making her catch the flinch before it came. She felt Killian's arms tighten reassuringly.

And it just made her eyes burn hotter, because it felt like forever since she'd had his touch, that physical reassurance from him.

"He enchanted my—Mary Margaret's ring, their wedding ring," Emma went on unsteadily, "so that it would glow more the closer David got to her." Her eyes found Killian's. "But I think it's because he had something of hers… and I had something of yours," she whispered, curling her fingers around his hook again.

"You don't have anything of theirs?" asked Killian.

Emma shook her head, fear prickling hotly at her eyes.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "At the very least, if Bae is still with them, he should keep them fairly safe." But his eyes fell to her, to the scrapes on her face and arms from the twigs, and his face looked nothing but tortured. "You were alone," he repeated, words barely audible, his hand on her face, holding her gently.

And it sent a mixture of emotions running through her, because he seemed to know exactly—exactly—how terrifying it had been for her.

"Thank the gods Pan's magic is weak at the moment," he said. "He'd have found you in a heartbeat if it wasn't."

"His magic is weak?" echoed Emma.

"Aye," said Killian. "I only managed to escape because the demon trapped me in a cage he would have normally kept protected with magic. I'm bloody lucky it wasn't." he said, making Emma's heart skip. "Not to mention the fact that Pan couldn't even manage to fully heal my injury. Or he simply chose not to. Still hurts like the bloody devil," he muttered, making Emma freeze. "And, love, remind me to apologize to Lady Belle when we return; that was the most pain I'd suffered since I lost the bloody hand."

Emma was already pulling away, feeling her heart beat faster. "You're still hurt?" she breathed, shaking fingers finding where Henry had said Killian was shot.

The moment her fingers touched him there, he sucked in a breath, flinching a little.

Her chest clenched.

"I'm fine, love," he said, the wince smoothing from his features and replaced with a tired smile. And it was only now that Emma could see just how exhausted he looked; he'd had more color in his face that day in the hospital after he'd been hit by the car. "It's nothing," he insisted gently.

"It's not nothing!" said Emma, knowing now that the way his body was trembling had much less to do with fear and much more to do with pain and weakness.

Emma's shaking fingers found the bottom of his shirt, and she lifted it, revealing—

She sucked in a breath.

"Killian," she breathed.

Imagining that Killian was shot was one thing.

Seeing the proof, however…

It was clear where the bullet struck him; dark, deep bruising contrasted sharply with his skin, and Emma had no doubt the bullet had broken his ribs. Again.

The only thing that looked healed was the open wound itself; it was as if Pan had simply stitched the skin back together to keep him from bleeding out.

"Emma, I'm—"

"You're alive, you're not fine," came Emma's breathless whisper, voice cracking at the last word, her fingers shaking where she still held his vest. She lifted her watery gaze to his tortured one. "He barely healed you at all, Killian!" Her mind flashed back to the blood at the docks. He lost all that blood, was barely healed and he's still standing? She stared at him in utter shock. "How the hell did you even escape like this?!" she exclaimed.

But that made something deep settle into Killian's eyes, something that made Emma still. "I had to get back to you," he said simply. As if it was obvious. As if there was no other possible answer to the question, no other motivation to put himself through hell.

Emma felt her breath catch in her chest.

No one, no one, has ever come back.

Killian had been shot, weak, exhausted, in agony, captive by the person who hated him most…

And the truth was right there in his eyes, unwavering, a devotion carved out of stone; sure and strong.

He defied it all for her.

Not to be free.

Not to be safe.

Not to save himself.

To come back to her.

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, burning at the still-unfamiliar feeling coursing through her. One he'd elicited in her many times over, but it was still strange, the idea of…

…of someone who cared for her, for her, first and foremost.

Not out of convenience.

Not out of using her.

Just…

For her.

Killian gently touched her face, even when his fingers trembled a little from weakness or adrenaline or both. "Bloody nothing could keep me from getting back to you." he said heavily, his voice rough and worn as if he'd fought a thousand battles, and won.

His eyes were soft on hers, despite the pain and fatigue she could see in them. There was a depth in them, like he felt that her believing him was the most important thing to him in the universe.

The rush of feeling at that made a tear slip down her cheek, and she gently kissed him this time, shutting her eyes, both of them sinking into the tenderness, treating each other like they were afraid the other would break.

Emma's walls may be shattered debris inside her, but just because the emotions were there didn't help her figure out how to put them into words. So she hoped that he felt them, and one day she'd be able to shape them with her voice.

She pulled away, the look in his eyes like sunlight off the sea. And she smiled even as another tear fell, because it seemed he'd heard every word she didn't say.

But Emma's hand gently found his side again, ghosting it, her smile faltering.

What she wouldn't give for Regina to be here to heal hi—

She didn't need Regina.

She could heal him.

She has magic.

"I…" she began. "I can try to… heal you," said Emma unsteadily, looking at him. Although she's used magic on purpose a few times, it still usually happens by accident.

Killian's brows lifted a little in surprise—a touched sort of surprise that made Emma's heart flit in her chest. But his brows fell a little as he looked at her, and he said softly, "Thank you, love, but, Emma… you look exhausted. I don't—"

"Killian," she interrupted, wondering how it could both feel so touching that he still kept putting her first and heartbreaking that he kept putting himself last. "You were shot," she breathed, voice shaking, flashing back to the docks with a shiver. "You are shaking," she whispered, eyes burning. "And…" A tear slipped down her cheek. "And I can't stand seeing you hurt."

Something changed in his eyes, deepening, and he said with a touch of sadness, "I know the feeling."

And suddenly Emma was flashing back to when Cora had nearly killed him. When he'd sacrificed himself for her.

"You almost got yourself killed!"

"Better me than you."

"Hook—"

"I can't handle seeing you hurt, love. I've had my bloody fill."

Emma swallowed, mumbling, "Magic… doesn't really drain me." And it hasn't; it's always felt like her magic had an energy source all its own. Though, she's never used it to heal, so she had no idea what it would feel like, or how it would affect her. But with Killian hurt, she couldn't care less what it would do to her.

Ignoring her uncertainty, she looked at him and whispered in a voice that was supposed to come out like a demand but didn't make it past a plea, "Now will you let me try to heal you?"

His gaze held hers, nothing but concern in his, even when he was the one shot and weak. Despite what her magic could do for him, he only cared what it would cost her.

Stupid, stupid gentleman.

But, finally, he gave her a little nod.

And Emma bit her lip, suddenly nervous, because what if she accidentally hurts him?

She felt his arms tighten around her, and she met his eyes, and only saw confidence.

In her.

With a short exhale, she shook out her hand, her other still clutching him to her, her fingers hovering over the gunshot wound. She peeked at him, expecting to see him wince in apprehension, but he didn't. He was watching her, with absolute trust.

So, she shut her eyes, and reached for that warmth inside her.

It was easier to reach this time; she was beginning to understand it. It settled deep within her chest, something that felt like a gentler sort of adrenaline. Magic was all about imagining what she wanted, and using emotion to will it. Almost like wishing something hard enough to make it come true. So, she took a breath, focusing every thought on Killian, on healing him, on taking away his pain.

And suddenly, she felt the warmth trickle through her. A glow emitted from her fingers, making her eyes snap open.

The glow traveled from her fingertips to his skin, consuming the black and blue in a white-gold. Suddenly she saw Killian's eyes shut, and he swayed in her grip. Her other hand reflexively tightened around his arm to steady him, her heart jumping in fear that she was hurting him.

But instead, she saw the lines of pain recede from his face.

It was relief he was feeling, not pain.

Emma felt herself smile, watching her magic work until it faded, leaving Killian's skin looking completely untouched, as if the injury had never been there.

Even the cut that had been over his cheek had been healed.

Killian opened his eyes, looking down to see his newly-healed skin, and he looked at her in awe. Not out of surprise, not even out of relief.

Out of pride.

And it made something like a giggle of relief escape her own chest.

"It… it worked!" she breathed, and Killian smiled. "How do you feel?!" she asked breathlessly.

He smiled, an expression so much less strained. There was more color in his complexion now, and the tremble in his body was nearly gone. "Bloody amazing," he said honestly, pulling her to him, tight and strong, and Emma melted back into his body, the sheer safeness wrapping around her. "Thank you, love," he whispered over her hair.

She smiled against him. He was okay.

After a moment, he pulled back again, eyes scanning the forest around them, saying, "We should move. It's not safe bloody anywhere in Neverland, let alone the heart of the island. We must find your parents quickly." His hand settled in hers, his left arm still wrapped tightly around her, like he couldn't quite convince his body to let her go. "With Pan weak, we're fairly safe from him," he went on, meeting her eyes. "But the Lost Boys are ruthless."

Emma's fingers tightened over his arm, brows creased, remembering the urgency at hand. Then— "Oh," she said suddenly, releasing his fingers to grab the hilt of his sword. But the moment she pulled her fingers from his, his hand reflexively grabbed her forearm, like it startled him. He swallowed, loosening it a little, but didn't let her go.

The desperation in his reflex stole her breath.

Quickly, Emma unbuckled the belt for his sheath, and handed him the sword.

His brows raised. "My sword?"

Pink touched Emma's cheeks. "Um… yeah, I hope that's okay—"

His eyes rose to hers. "Of course it is, love." he said instantly. A little smile— "I'm happy to know there was a part of me there to protect you."

More heat touched Emma's cheeks. "It did," she said softly, and a warmth colored his eyes.

He took the sword from her, hesitating before releasing his arm around her to secure the belt around his waist.

But Emma felt it this time, the naked vulnerability without his touch, and her hand shot out to catch his arm, like she had the day in the hospital, after he'd laid her down.

He hesitated in his movements for half a second when she did, and Emma felt him relax the smallest bit, knowing he could feel her.

Once his sword was secured, Killian pulled a scabbard from around his torso, and Emma saw a cutlass had been hanging over his back. "Nabbed this from a Lost Boy when I escaped," he said with a grave grin. "Take it, love." He held it to her, and Emma took it, hesitating again before releasing him, quickly slinging it over her torso.

Killian drew his sword. Then, looked from his hook, to the hilt in his hand… to Emma's hand, in a way that made Emma's heart shatter in her chest.

But only a second later, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the curve of his hook, in a way that felt familiar now. He looked from her hand and his hook, to her eyes, rich emotion swimming in his. He hesitated, then said, "Don't let go of me, Emma."

Emma swallowed at the heaviness in his words, and she nodded, her other hand curling around his left elbow, needing no encouragement. She felt him relax a little, and give her a quick little smile, before saying, "Let's go."

Killian canted his head back, eyes on the stars in the sky through the gaps in the branches, and Emma watched him carefully read them like a map. And he gave a sigh, something weary, and looked at her with another smile, like he was reminding himself she was there, and they started ahead.

--.-.-.

-.-.-.-.

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snowbellewells · 8 months

Text

Belated Birthday Fic for @jrob64

Joni (@jrob64) this is long overdue now, and probably not worth the waiting you've done for it, but I still wanted to give you the story I wrote for your birthday. It takes place in Season 2, after Emma leaves Hook on the beanstalk, but diverges in that Hook carches up with the Savior and the rest of the Princess squad again without Cora. There's some mentioned whump and I hope plenty of hurt/comfort (since you and I both enjoy that so! ;) And I hope you'll still like it, even though it's now well past your birthday. I am so glad we are friends and that this OTP and fandom lead us to meet and get to know each other!

“Consequences”

by: @snowbellewells

The logs and twigs they’d gathered for their campfire were crackling mightily, releasing occasional pops when sap ignited, but giving off the light and heat their weary and mismatched group needed as they wordlessly gathered on a fallen stump and large rock nearby. None of the women spoke. Exhausted and worried, and still not fully trusting of each other, they merely watched as Mary Margaret spun the rabbit she’d brought back for supper on the spit they had rigged up over the fire and listened as Mulan finished assembling the tent they’d soon crawl into once they had eaten at last.

This wilderness was about the furthest thing from an “Enchanted” Forest that Emma could have conjured in her naive 21st century mind, but she was simply too drained to point out the irony to either her mother - she wasn’t even ready to apply that term to her friend and roommate yet - or honest-to-goodness freaking Sleeping Beauty. And it didn’t help that she kept hearing Hook’s voice echoing in her ears, the hurt and shocked betrayal in his tone - and in those dangerously expressive eyes - as he’d pled with her, ‘Have I told you a lie? Why do this to me now?’ She had the sinking feeling that no matter how tired her body might be, when she lay her head down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to sleep for seeing his face as it had looked when she had turned away on the back of her eyelids, and her guilt at leaving him chained atop the beanstalk gnawing at her insides.

Shaking her head clear, Emma reminded herself once again that Hook had been in league with Cora; they had no proof but his word, her gut feeling, and her superpower no one else believed, that he wasn’t still working for the witch against them. She’d done the right thing, Emma savagely scolded her yammering conscience. Nothing was worth the risk of not getting back to Henry - or even worse, seeing Regina’s evil mother find her way to where Henry was. Certainly not a piercing-eyed pirate who seemed to see right through her and make her squirm doing it.

With a nod and murmur of thanks, she took the portion of roasted meat offered to her on a makeshift skewer and nibbled at it gingerly. It might just be that she was famished and too tired to be picky, but it tasted better than expected. Emma was swallowing her second bite, when noise caught her attention from the nearby treeline. She jerked upright, immediately on guard; her state of near-slumber shattered and all her nerves jangling with alarm. Her eyes met Mary Margaret’s as her mother reached for her bow and Emma stood with fists clenched, ready to defend them however she could, whether her gun was any use out here or not. Mulan had abandoned the tent at the sound as well, smoothly drawing her sword and facing the trees in front of them like a deadly sentinel.

The noise of heavy footsteps smashing through the underbrush grew nearer and louder; branches snapped, heavy, gasping breaths were heard, and Emma could only square her shoulders and wait for whatever new foe was coming forth to show itself.

What she wasn’t expecting - and what tore a harsh gasp from her throat on sight - was for Hook to stumble dazedly out of the woods toward them, momentarily leaning against a tree trunk to steady himself, his face obviously bloody and his clothing torn. He took a couple more weaving steps toward them before the toe of his boot caught a root that sent him sprawling face down in the dirt at their feet. And he didn’t get up. Didn’t move or speak. Emma was rushing forward in spite of herself before she could think better of it. Her mother called for her to be careful, and Mulan’s stern face cautioned it could be a ploy, but she paid neither of them much heed.

He still hadn’t moved, and he looked even worse close up. He’d been hurt. Badly. Surely Anton wouldn’t have… This wasn’t what she had wanted. Was this her fault?

Crouching, Emma tried to shake Hook gently, to stir him back into wakefulness. A groan escaped him breathily, which shouldn’t have relieved her nearly as much as it did. There was nothing for it but to roll him over onto his back. At least then she could see his face and assess the damage.

But when she did, her breath caught a second time, choking up somewhere between her throat and her lungs. She couldn’t imagine there had been many times in the life of Captain Killian Jones when this could be said of him, but he looked terrible. His lower lip was busted, with rusty remnants of dried blood staining where they had trailed down his chin. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the other was bleary to the point that she wondered how he had made his way to them through the dark. A large gash that had barely closed showed beneath the disheveled dark fringe on his forehead. Dark, purpled bruises and nasty scrapes mottled the skin of his face, neck and collar nearly everywhere she could see. Though she would have never admitted it aloud, Hook’s usually flawless countenance was horribly altered by whatever had happened to him. The shadows darkening his usual mischievious sparkle and daring turned her stomach in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

He struggled to raise his head slightly and blinked up at her as best he could through the usable slit of his eye. “Ah Swan, caught up to you, didn’t I?” he jested brokenly, somehow still teasing her through what must be immense pain.

Tilting her head to study him, Emma struggled to look unamused while inexplicably aching to place a hand to his forehead, brush back the matted hair there, and offer some modicum of comfort. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, hovering just barely over his cheek before hesitating and pulling back, tingling at their proximity even as she resisted making contact. There didn’t appear to be a single place on him that wasn’t battered and wouldn’t cause him more pain if she tried to touch.

As if reading her concern, Hook shifted restlessly, attempting to lever himself upright and then falling back with a wince and guttural moan of protest. She also noticed for the first time how tightly he kept his hook arm pressed to his side, not sure if the injury was to the arm itself or if he were shielding his stomach or ribs, but it ratcheted her worry for him that much higher. Not certain what to do for him, or what to say, her usual half-annoyed bantering retorts fled her the longer she witnessed his vulnerability. Emma finally settled on simply answering his question, and asking one of her own. “It would appear you’ve caught me,” she acknowledged, then added softer, “But why?”

Huffing out a weary breath, Killian didn’t look at her as he barely shook his head, the motion seeming to express that he didn’t quite know himself. “I guess because, double cross and all, Lass, you lot are the safest choice for company of my rather limited options.”

Emma flushed with embarrassment at his casual mention of what she’d done. Her cheeks burned, knowing the man who lay before her could surely see how she’d colored at the reminder and could only hope that his current state made him less sharply observant than usual. That she hadn’t trusted him or the brief alliance they’d made shamed her, and then made her angry for feeling ashamed. She’d been burned before, and had learned to be more wary. That she had wanted to believe him, and had silently agreed when he’d called them quite a team, had only made her more anxious to leave him behind, to flee before he turned on her and she was left in the dust herself. Pushing the conflicting emotions aside, she tried another tack instead. “But what happene to you? How did…? Surely Anton didn’t…?” She was tripping over her words now, flustered and chiding herself as she shook her head in frustration.

Biting her tongue until she could regain control, her eyes flew to her hand when Killian used his to clasp it and gain her attention. Though his fingers were trembling with the effort, he held on and answered her slowly. “No, that wasn’t the work of your giant admirer. Your new friend released me once the time you requested of him had passed. Bloody gargantuan numbskull threatened me to leave you in peace, but he didn’t do this damage.”

Emma exhaled air she’d hardly realized she was holding. It didn’t make things right between them, but she was grateful that she hadn’t misjudged Anton’s nature and directly caused the torture Hook had clearly undergone. “But then, who?” she whispered, finally daring to squeeze the hand that held hers in return, while at last reaching out and smoothing a light caress over his brow.

He flinched slightly at the initial contact, but then his eyes fell closed momentarily with a sigh of relief. Emma had to know, though the only other option she could think of had dread settling in her belly like stone. “Who did this to you?” she choked.

“Why Cora, of course,” he intoned, trying to appear either flippant or matter of fact and failing with the shadows that passed over his expression. “Not honestly sure why she didn’t finish the job, unless she thought she had and this old body is just too stubborn to give up the ghost.” He drew in a ragged breath before adding, “At any rate, after letting me know that she would leave me here, unable to ever gain my vengeance on Rumplestiltskin, she made certain she had demonstrated the consequences of choosing to align myself against her.”

By this point, his breathing had grown shallow and labored once more with the effort of speaking. Shushing him with a plea to rest, Emma was eager to check with the others about anything they might be able to do for his injuries. He certainly didn’t need her to keep him talking as she was. Pressing trembling lips together, Emma dashed away the single drop of moisture that had escaped her eye and laid his hand tenderly back on his chest. “Well, thankfully, Cora counted her win a bit too soon. Let’s see if we can help you live to fight another day.”

His unfairly long lashes fluttered, and a small, soft chuckle broke from his cracked lips, but Killian seemd to be rapidly giving up the fight to remain lucid. Emma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad while they tried to tend to his wounds, but she had to do something. She wasn’t going to desert him again.

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

When his eyes fluttered open some time later, Killian Jones found himself dazed and dizzy, then almost nauseous, with his throat parched and dry. Panic followed almost immediately as he struggled to gain his bearings and found himself weak as a newborn kitten, floundering even to sit up unaided. He could not have said whether it had been minutes, hours, or days since he was last aware of his surroundings, but just as he was not sure how much time had passed, he was also vaguely uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was alone - an even more disturbing condition.

His mind was reeling as he attempted to move, scrabbling around over the dry, dusty ground with his good hand in a frantic search for his cutlass. Surely he must have left it within reach. He had learned long ago, even as the captain of a mostly loyal pirate crew, that enemies were varied and numerous, and that he must never let his guard down without a weapon close at hand. He had a jagged, long-healed gash running under his ribs, which Smee had tried his best - if rather crookedly - to sew closed, but which had taught him that lesson all too well.

With a frenzied sound of frustration in his throat, Killian kept fighting to sit upright, ready to defend himself against some unknown foe, only to have hands grip his upper arms tightly, pressing him back and forcing him to remain on the ground. “Unhand me, you blackguard!” he growled, only to have his vision finally regain focus and the fight abruptly drain from his limbs when he found himself staring up at Emma Swan hovering over him, her touch the one keeping him in place.

“Easy there, Hook,” she chided, loosening her grip as he stilled and grew calmer upon seeing he was not under immediate attack. “You’ve got to settle down, or you’ll hurt yourself even more. We tried to stitch the deepest of your cuts and bandage you up. Don’t undo it all!”

She was fussing over him, Killian realized belatedly, his hazy and addled mind slowly filling in the blanks he had missed. She might be scolding and grumbling as she did so, but she was still frightened for his well-being and more concerned for his comfort than he would have dared imagine possible.

He had known there was a frisson of energy that flowed between them when he’d taken her hand in the giant’s lair, cleansing and caring for the cut on her palm despite her stubbornly self-effacing protests. And he really hadn’t thought he was imagining the way she’d held her breath and her pupils had dilated when he’d eyed her daringly while tying off the bandage with his teeth. Still, he’d been hesitant to place too much fatih in what he was reading from her either. Emma Swan was overly guarded and used to being on her own. Someone had obviously hurt her deeply enough to make her push everyone else away in response. Not only that, but she was an actual royal - the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, no less - and the fabled Savior besides. Her light was much too pure and bright to be aligned with his dark and tarnished pirate soul set on vengeance.

All the same, he had cursed himself as seven times a fool when his heart plummeted at her turning and running from him on the beanstalk. He had held out a little hope for them, in spite of his better judgement, or he would not have been so hurt by the betrayal. She was as full of shining enticement, from her flowing golden hair to her sparkling jade eyes, as any buried treasure. He couldn’t help wanting to stay by her side.

As Emma slowly moved to support him, helping him ease into a sitting position while bracing him against her own hip and shoulder, she offered him a water skin and held it up so he could take a much-needed cool drink of water. Killian was stunned to realize that maybe winning her over wasn’t as lost a cause as he had thought. Perhaps Emma Swan already cared more than she wanted to allow herself, and against her own good sense - much as he had found himself doing.

Several quiet moments passed before Killian fully registered that all was still and motionless around them. It was full dark now; the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, if his view of the moon was accurate, yet he could hear no movements or voice’s from Emma’s royal, bandit, or warrior companions. The fire next to them was dimmed to near embers, and it seemed for the moment as if he and Emma were the only two people under the brilliant array of stars overhead.

Now that he had his bearings and his thirst was slaked, he ventured a glance beyond his lovely blonde Savior’s beguiling face, at least far enough to see that a rough tent had been staked and three bed rolls were occupied beneath its temporary shelter, explaining their privacy, but raising even more questions. Why were the rest of them willing to lower their guard enough to sleep with a virtual stranger and former enemy in their camp? It had been hard to miss the warning and distrust in the Lady Snow’s eyes, at any rate - probably largely protectiveness for her daughter, but still, why grant him this sort of uninterrupted interlude with Emma then? He was clearly in poor shape; maybe they had reckoned he couldn’t do anything to harm them, or charm Emma too thoroughly, as injured as he was.

Killian was abruptly startled from his wandering thoughts when he once more felt the cool, soothing touch of Emma’s fingertips trailing up the side of his face and into his hair. She raked the dark strands back from his fevered skin, calming even the pounding that pained him from the magical beating he’d endured and the rough impact his head had suffered when Cora finally dropped his battered body to the hard ground and left him for dead.

The Enchanted Forest’s lost princess spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her when she addressed him again, her eyes studiously avoiding his to observe her fingers carding through the mussed, blood-caked strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… truly, I am. It was wrong of me to leave you behind the way I did, and… I should have trusted you. You may be a pirate, and awfully full of yourself, and way too flirty for your own good…”

At that, Killian attempted to waggle an eyebrow and smirk salaciously to make her smile, only for a cringe to escape him at the motion of his brow and lip.

She noticed, of course, and rather than admonishing that it served him right, as she would have usually done, Emma hissed in sympathy and hushed him with a gentle hum in the back of her throat. “See, this shouldn’t have happened to you, Ho - Killian.” Her switch from his moniker to his real name struck him right in the center of the chest, with as much emphasis as a physical blow. He couldn’t decide if her concern, guilt, and contrition more warmed his heart or troubled him - not wanting to win her over out of mere pity. “That witch only caught up to you, found you empty-handed, because of what I did. This is my fault… b-but… I never wanted you to be hurt like this. I only wanted a head start, to get back to my son.”

If he hadn’t been shocked to his core already, the depth of emotion in Swan’s voice as she made her confession would have been enough to bowl him over. It sounded as though she might be on the verge of tears on his behalf, and Killian could hardly fathom it. Drawing a ragged breath of his own, he wet his cracked lips and managed a sincere response to her heartfelt openness.

“Darling,” and here he couldn’t help a bit of a rogueish grin at her, despite how it pulled on the broken skin of his lip again.

She shook her head, but didn’t scoff or interrupt, not this time, and heartened, he continued in all sincerity. “I’m not going to lie to you. I was angry when you shackled me there and left me behind. I’d been on the level with you, was doing my best to help you, and for the first the time in a long time, I felt like I connected with someone genuinely. But I also understand that your boy is your first priority. You cannot let anything else matter as much - or even possibly risk his safety.”

His battered knuckles were beginning to swell, and his fingers ached as he moved them, but Killian still managed to return the clutch of Emma’s own hand and intertwine their fingers with a sigh of rightness and relief. Glancing back up to search her gaze once more, he added, “I understand what being separated from one’s child might do to a person… more than you might think, in fact. I respect you all the more for your urgency and desire to return to him as soon as possible.”

He could see Emma wondering what his words might mean; the gears turning in her sharp mind were obvious, even if she only pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him a few moments longer. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter further, but instead released what seemed a lungful of air she must have been holding worriedly and gave him a hopeful smile. “So… you forgive me, then?”

The barest dip of his chin was as far as he dared move his aching head, but Killian assured her without hesitation, “Aye, Emma, I do,” in as strong and certain a voice as he could muster.

By then, the faintest tendrils of light were beginning to break through the deep indigo sky and soft hints of scuffling and waking from their fellow travelers hinted that they would not be alone much longer.

Though he still hurt all over as if he had been scorched by a dragon’s breath and then crushed by an ogre’s tread, Killian couldn’t help but feel as if his situation had drastically changed. Even more so when Emma Swan’s eyes grew warmer yet; her aspect beaming crookedly at him like sunlight slowly emerging from a bank of clouds. Just before they were joined by Snow White bearing coffee for his Savior, Emma winked at him conspiratorially and leaned forward to murmur. “I’m glad, Pirate. After all, we make quite the team, remember?”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @artistic-writer @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @caught-in-the-filter

#belated bday fic #gift for @jrob64 #cs one shot #ouat s2 canon divergent ff #consequences #killian whump #hurt comfort

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 9/18: Reflections Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1.1K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Emma and Killian separately reflect on their evening together. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: >:} Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

"Thanks for everything." Emma said, parking the car by the docks.

"My pleasure." He hadn't looked at her since she kissed him, and he wasn't breaking that streak now.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for his door, but she hit the auto door lock before he could, trying to smooth things out before he left.

"Hook," She said softly, placing her hand on his arm, "I shouldn't have done that, should I have?"

"What?" He asked.

"I shouldn't've kissed you." Emma said. "I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

"We did what we set out to do, Swan." He said, and he slightly twisted his arm out of her grip. "You've sufficiently proven to Neal that he made the wrong choice."

"Right." Emma said. She unlocked his car door. "Want me to walk you back to your ship?"

"I think I can manage."

"Oh, your jacket." Emma said, almost forgetting she was wearing it for how natural it felt to be wearing it.

"Keep it 'til tomorrow." He said. "Give it back to me when they're around."

It seemed like a good plan, but he said it so deadpan, monotone, almost upset- not nearly the same man he'd been twenty minutes ago.

"Alright." Emma said. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight." He said, almost coldly, not even bracketing it with a "Swan," or a "love," or even an "Emma."

Without another word, he left the car, left Emma sitting there, alone with her thoughts. They'd done what they wanted to do- they'd made Neal jealous, they'd kept up the ruse, they'd proven she's just as well off without him.

But the problem was she'd had fun doing it. She actually had a great time that night, once or twice even forgetting that their date was just fake. But then at the end, should she really have kissed him, just to make Neal jealous? Even if that didn't cross the line, kissing him again after she knew they were gone? That definitely did.

But Emma had to remind herself this is Captain Hook. His reputation preceded him- rumors floating around said he knew the names of the bar wenches in every port in the realm, that he'd never met a girl who didn't succumb to his charm, that he went through women faster than he did bottles of rum- and she knew how quickly he burned through bottles of rum.

She watched in her rearview mirror as he walked back down the docks, onto his invisible ship, and disappeared from view.

Had David been right? Had she neglected to be careful with Killian's emotions? He seemed like he was really enjoying himself with her- until she kissed him, that was.

She pulled his jacket just a bit tighter around her shoulders.

"That kiss was awful for him." She thought, her mind racing but the town standing still. "Why shouldn't it be? He's a pirate. He doesn't care about me. He doesn't like me. Because if he did, why would he get so upset when I kissed him?"

The only reason she saw that he had to be so upset by her kiss was if he didn't feel the same way about her. He'd flirted with her because he flirts with everyone, he'd pretend courted her tonight so she didn't throw him in jail, and, much like many men she'd met, he would only follow his interests in her to the brink of commitment- anything more than that would be too much for him- and Emma had started to cross that line.

She sighed as she eventually started the car.

"David was right." Emma thought. "I played with fire and I got burned."

She tried to shift her focus to other things- Cora and Regina being in town, the stranger who'd come in just before she left, trying to keep the secrets of the town from him, and from Tamara.

But still, that little voice in the back of her head was antagonizing, berating her, bogging her down with insecurities, reminding herself of her place, her place as the only woman in all the realms who could scare off the notorious Captain Hook.

---

"Does she know she's the only thing on my mind right now?" The notorious Captain Hook thought as he watched her drive away from his vantage point on The Jolly Roger. He was thankful she couldn't see him, that she hadn't been able to see how he'd turned back to watch her as soon as he was cloaked, how he stayed there until she'd disappeared too.

He looked up at the sky as he walked the gangplank, hoping to take familiar comfort in the constellations he often used to navigate- then remembered he was in a land with entirely different stars.

Everything in this land felt different, in an almost intimidating way. Hard roads designed to be used by vehicles that move so fast they can break a rib. Deep fried seafood. Food that comes in pre packaged boxes. Short jackets, short skirts- not that they were a bad thing, of course, just not quite what he was used to.

And yet, whenever he was with Swan, he couldn't help but feel like he was used to her. There was something about her that felt so safe to him, like a harbor, like The Jolly Roger, like….

He put his head in his hands as he sat on the steps to the forecastle deck.

There was something about Emma Swan that felt like a home.

He sighed as he pulled out his flask, knowing that no matter how he saw her, it couldn't change how she saw him.

"I'm just a pirate in her eyes." Killian thought. "I'm just a means to an end. She's just using me to get to Neal."

Killian had a hard time reconciling in his mind that the man he'd sat across from in the restaurant was the same kid who'd once stood on the deck of his ship, threatening Killian's life when he thought he was the one who'd killed Milah.

"What's become of you, Baelfire?" Killian whispered. "Where's that kid who just wanted to be a hero?

All that Baelfire ever wanted was a family- and as much as Killian tried to deny it, he really was the one who tore apart Bae's first family. He felt like he owed it to that boy he once knew to not wreck his chances this time, that if an opportunity came up for Emma and Henry to be Neal's family again, that he owed that much to him, just a fighting chance, without a devilishly handsome pirate standing in the way.

"It's better that way." Killian thought. "Swan deserves better than me."

And he looked up at the unfamiliar stars, he found himself silently hoping that Neal could be that man for her.

#once upon a time fanficton #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #season 2 #canon divergence #kazzy writes

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jrob64 · 2 years

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Her Heart’s Home - Part II of Where Her Heart Belongs (Killian’s POV)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kmomof4!!!!

I’m a day early, but since the story is finished & I won’t have time to post it tomorrow, you get an early present! As requested, here is a second part to Where Her Heart Belongs from Killian’s point of view. I hope it’s everything you wanted!

Extra special thanks to @winterbythesea for allowing me to use the beautiful artwork she created for WHHB to make the banner. Thanks also to @hookedmom for being the best beta once again.

**I’ve taken the liberty of using two of the most iconic CS scenes in a different way for this story. I hope no one minds.

Rating: M (because Mary insisted Krystal would want it that way!)

Words: 6262

Find Where Her Heart Belongs on Tumblr, Ao3 or ffn

Find Her Heart’s Home on Ao3 or ffn

*********

“I’d say you’ve got your magic back,” Killian said, seeing the wand Emma was holding start to glow. “Now, shall we go?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated and he turned to see a portal beginning to open in the wall of the Dark One’s vault, then gestured for her to go through it ahead of him. When she didn’t do as he indicated, he turned back to face her again, but she wasn’t there. Glancing around the space with an increasing sense of panic, he didn’t see any sign of her.

The only thing he could figure was that she somehow slipped through the portal without him noticing, even though he didn’t know how that could have been possible. Realizing his only chance of escaping the vault was going to close soon, he jumped through it.

When he landed on the floor of the barn, he looked around, hoping to see a flash of blonde hair. His heart sank at the sight of the empty building. He quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Just beyond it, he heard a buzzing sound and spotted Emma’s talking phone laying on the ground. He tried to push aside the thought that she probably would have picked it up if she had come through here.

Stuffing it into his pocket, he continued to Granny’s, bursting through the door, breathing hard and scanning the diner for Emma.

“Hook, did you find her?” David asked, rising from the booth where he was seated with Mary Margaret and the infant prince.

“No, I…didn’t she come back here?” Killian asked. “I thought perhaps she made it through the portal and…”

“Portal?” Mary Margaret interjected with alarm. “What are you talking about?”

Killian took another quick look around and realized nothing had changed since he left to pursue Emma. Sighing heavily, he began relating the story of being sucked into Zelena’s portal and their adventure in the Enchanted Forest.

*********

Emma didn’t return that night or the next, or the one after that. For four days, Killian, her family and friends searched everywhere for her, but she seemed to have vanished.

As they sat strategizing in the loft the evening of the fourth day, Regina rose from her seat abruptly and went to stand in front of the mirror where they had witnessed the reunion of Ariel and Eric.

“What is it, Regina?” Mary Margaret questioned, crossing the room to stand beside her.

Regina continued to study the mirror. “I thought I saw…yes! There it is again! Do you see it?”

Henry knocked his chair over in his rush to join his mother, with Killian and David right behind him. “What, Mom? What do you see?”

“It…it’s Emma!” Killian shouted, seeing a blurry image on the surface of the mirror.

The room filled with noise as each of them began to see the same thing as Regina and Killian.

“Regina, can you do anything to let us see her more clearly?” David asked.” Maybe we would be able to identify where she is.”

“You know I can’t perform mirror magic,” Regina snapped. “Obviously, there’s some residual magic left in it from Emma and that’s why we can see her.”

“Can you please try, Mom?” begged Henry. “Please?”

Regina’s eyes softened as she looked at her distraught son. Turning her attention back to the mirror, she held both hands out in front of her, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

“It’s working!” Mary Margaret cried. “Regina, you did it!”

Killian stepped closer, trying to determine Emma’s location. “Do any of you recognize that place?” he asked.

All of them stared at the image, shaking their heads one-by-one, before Henry suddenly shouted, “She’s going into what looks like a library! What does the sign say over the door?”

David squinted. “Columbus Public Library,” he read slowly. “Columbus? Where is that?”

“There are lots of different Columbuses in the country,” Henry informed him, running to get his phone. He Googled ‘Columbus’ and read, “There are twenty-three states with a city of Columbus in them.” His shoulders sagged and he looked up sadly. “How are we supposed to figure out which one it is?”

“Are you saying she’s in the land without magic, Lad?” Killian questioned.

“Yeah. She must be somewhere in the United States, we just don’t know where.”

“Well, we can narrow it down somehow, right?” Mary Margaret asked hopefully. “It looks like it’s pretty chilly there, so we can rule out warmer states.”

After Henry pulled up a map on his computer, he and Mary Margaret began checking off states like Texas and New Mexico. Meanwhile, the other three continued to examine the mirror for any more clues to Emma’s location.

The sick feeling in Killian’s stomach gnawed at him as he watched her browsing books in the library. Clearly, her memory had been wiped since she seemed to feel at home in the location and didn’t appear to be attempting to find her way back to them. To him.

“Henry, come here!” David suddenly shouted, noticing something on the wall behind the circulation desk.

The boy quickly did as told, casting his eyes on the spot where his grandfather was pointing. “What are you…oh! That’s a state flag! I think there’s only one that’s shaped like a pennant!”

Rushing back to his computer, his fingers flew over the keys as he typed in another search. “It’s Ohio!” he shouted. “Columbus, Ohio! That’s where she is!”

“How far away is it?” Killian asked. “Can we make it there tonight?”

“We’re not going there,” Regina said decisively.

“What the bloody hell do you mean?” Killian growled. “We have to go get her!”

“Look,” she said, turning haughty eyes on him, “you said you were in the Dark One’s vault right before Emma disappeared. That means he’s probably the one who sent her to that place and obviously wiped her memories. If we go swooping in there to rescue her, she’s not going to know who we are and we’ll never convince her to come back with us. We’re going to have to find another way.”

“And just how do you propose we do that?” Killian spat, stepping closer until he was toe-to-toe with the queen.

“I’m not sure, yet,” she countered, not backing down. “I’m going to have to think about it.”

“Well, think fast, because Emma has already been gone too long!” he stated venomously. “Unless you have another reason for not wanting to bring her back. Maybe you like being with Henry alone. Maybe you like not having Emma around!”

“Enough!” Mary Margaret interjected, cutting off Regina’s retort. “It’s getting late. Let’s all get some sleep so we are refreshed and can try to come up with a solution tomorrow. At least we know where Emma is and have a pretty good idea of what happened to her.”

“Belle might be able to help,” Henry suggested hopefully. “We can ask her in the morning.”

“Aye, and perhaps she can get the bloody crocodile to admit what he did and make him undo it,” Killian snarled.

Regina and Henry said their goodbyes, but Killian was loath to leave the mirror as long as Emma’s image was visible. Stepping in front of it, he was frustrated to see it was blurry once again.

Mary Margaret looked at his forlorn expression and handed the baby to David. “Could you please change his diaper and get him into his sleeper? I’ll be in to feed him in a few minutes.”

David put the fussing infant up against his shoulder, glanced over at Killian, then gave Mary Margaret a nod and went into their bedroom.

“Hook?” Mary Margaret said softly, placing her hand on his forearm. “I know you’re worried about her, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Go to your ship, get some sleep, and we’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”

He swallowed hard, then turned sad eyes toward her. “I no longer have my ship.”

Mary Margaret’s brows raised in surprise. “What do you mean? Where is it?”

He studied his boots for several moments, before finally speaking in a low, tortured voice. “I…I had to find Emma and I needed a magic bean, so I…made a deal with Blackbeard.”

“You traded your ship for a bean so you could bring Emma back?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye,” he said simply, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

She stood stock still, digesting the shocking information, finally shaking herself out of her reverie to say, “Stay here. I…I’ll be right back.”

He was still standing in the same spot when she returned. “Here are some pajamas,” she said, holding them out when he turned to face her. “You can stay up in Emma’s room tonight.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Pardon me?”

“Killian,” she began, and at the sound of his given name, his eyes grew even larger. “You sacrificed something very important to you to bring our daughter back to us. The least we can do is provide you a place to sleep.”

His lips turned up with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Milady.”

“Please call me Mary Margaret or Snow,” she said warmly. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very important day and we all need to be well rested…or as well rested as one can be with a newborn in the house. Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Mary Margaret.”

After she left the room, he squinted into the mirror one more time, sighing when he was unable to distinguish Emma’s form within the cloudy surface.

He trudged up the stairs and changed into the pajamas, then settled into Emma’s narrow bed, finally relaxing as he was surrounded by her scent. “Tomorrow, Love,” he murmured. “We’ll bring you home tomorrow.” Yawning widely, he turned his face into her pillow and fell asleep.

*********

Unfortunately, nothing they tried brought Emma home the next day. Belle agreed to help and suggested a way to try to jog Emma’s memories. Aided by a spell Regina discovered, they were able to send the storybook through the mirror to Emma. Once she found it, they were relieved to see that her image in the mirror was clear as long as she was looking at the book.

They also realized that people could be transported through the mirror and several were eager to help, each one hoping they would be the one to trigger the return of her memories. But when Killian attempted to pass through, he was met with a solid, impenetrable wall. He was horrified and furious, sure Rumplestiltskin was the person responsible for blocking him, but Gold claimed to have no memory of doing it.

“Bloody crocodile,” he ground out through gritted teeth, addressing Mary Margaret, David and Belle. “She would recognize me from the illustration in the book if I could just get through to her.”

Belle promised she would try to persuade Gold to remove the magical block, if he had indeed put one on. In the meantime, Killian had to watch one person after another interacting with Emma through the mirror, despairing that he was unable to be one of them.

They saw Emma beginning to put the pieces together little by little, but had no idea how long it would take for her to figure out who she was and where she belonged. As the days passed and everyone returned to their routines, Killian remained, watching her every move.

When the figures in the picture began to dance around the page, he was sure it was her magic causing it, even though she was in the land without magic.

Her parents, Henry, Regina and Belle were with him when Emma wore the red ball gown and pushed her fingers through the page. Killian swiped at them, attempting to make contact, but she pulled them back before he could. When he heard her murmur, “So close, Killian Jones. Someday I’ll make it to you,” his heart shattered.

The group decided to send Ashley and Marco through with the necessary things to complete Emma’s look, everyone hoping it would be enough to help refresh her memory. If not, they knew they had one last chance - sending Killian to her, provided Belle could get Gold to remove the block.

Killian took up his familiar position in front of the mirror, staring into the blank surface as he wondered if Ashley doing her hair and Marco giving her the jeweled headband would do the trick. Suddenly, her image materialized before him, looking exactly like she did in the illustration. His breath caught as she created ripples with her fingers, then he heard her whispered plea - “Please let me get through to you, Killian Jones.” A halo of white light appeared as her hand came through the mirror. Thinking quickly, he pushed his hook toward her searching fingers. As soon as she grasped it firmly, he pulled with all his might.

He caught her in his arms, the relief flooding through him like a tidal wave. “Swan. At last!” he exhaled.

Emma drew back to look at him for several seconds. Just as he was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t returned, she tugged him to her, fusing her lips to his. His concern dissipated and then he was returning the kiss. She rarely let her walls down enough to give him any indication of her feelings for him, but in that moment, he was almost certain he could feel the love he was pouring into the kiss being reciprocated.

He spent the next several minutes after the kiss ended holding her and answering her questions about what happened. When she started to ask him why he hadn’t come to her like all the others, he could read the trepidation in her eyes and hurried to assure her how much he wanted to, but was blocked.

His heart swelled when she thanked him for never giving up on her, and felt like it was going to burst when she explained that she was talking about all of the times he encouraged her and stayed by her side. She noticed.

Then she told him she and her heart were back with him where they belonged, and he swore he had never felt happier in his entire life.

Far too soon, her family and numerous townspeople came rushing in the door, alerted to Emma’s return by the energy her magic sent through Storybrooke. Wearily, he sat down and watched the happy reunion, suddenly feeling the physical and mental exhaustion fully setting in.

When he glanced up and saw her send him a smile, his weariness lifted long enough to return it. He expected everyone to stay for a while, so he decided it would probably be best to head to Granny’s inn. He stayed there his first three nights back from their adventure in the Enchanted Forest, until Mary Margaret extended the invitation for him to stay with them.

He rose from the bar stool and made his way across the loft, speaking briefly to Belle and Henry before stopping in front of the door. Looking over his shoulder for one more glimpse of Emma, he noticed her giving a hug to August and thanking him for alerting her to the presence of the storybook in the library.

Quietly slipping out the door, he pulled it shut behind him, then started down the stairs. Two steps from the bottom, Emma’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Killian, where are you going?”

The thrill of hearing his name roll off her tongue zipped through him before he turned to face her. “I thought I would give you time with your family and friends,” he explained.

“And you don’t think that includes you?”

He gave her a tired smile. “I’m happy to know that it does, Love. I just…I was going to get some sleep.”

“So you’re going to the Jolly Roger?”

Dropping his head, he scratched behind his ear. “Actually, I, um, I’m staying at Granny’s,” he admitted.

“Instead of your ship? Why?”

His ears reddened. “It…it’s a bit of a long story, Swan.”

“Well, hang around and once everyone leaves, you can tell me.”

Killian glanced toward the outside doors, then back up to Emma at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t keen to tell her the tale, but he couldn’t deny his Swan anything. “As you wish,” he responded, before climbing up the stairs to join her.

*********

Granny sent food over for the group, who lingered until early evening. When everyone said their goodbyes and left, Henry giving Emma a long hug before leaving with Regina, David cleaned up the kitchen while Mary Margaret got the baby ready for bed. Emma pulled Killian down on the couch with her and intertwined their fingers. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, simply happy to be together again.

“Mom told me you slept in front of the mirror nearly every night since I was sent away,” Emma finally said, speaking quietly as she stroked her thumb over his rings. “That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

“Your mother provided some bedding and pillows for me. I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“You could have slept in my bed, you know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I did, the first night, but once we were able to see you whenever you opened the book, I didn’t want to take the chance of missing you.”

“You can sleep in there tonight, if you want,” she whispered.

“In your bed?” he asked. Seeing her nod, he hurried to add, “No, Swan. I’ll not make you sleep somewhere…”

“I meant with me,” she interrupted, her eyes not meeting his.

His grip on her hand tightened. “I’m not sure your parents…”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need permission from my parents to have a man in my bed.”

“Even if that man is a pirate?”

She twisted around and placed her fingers under his chin to turn his face toward her. “Being a pirate doesn’t define you, Killian. You’re so much more than that.”

His left eyebrow quirked up. “You truly believe that?”

Placing both hands on either side of his face, she looked into his eyes intently for several seconds before answering with certainty, “All the help you gave us to rescue Henry from Neverland, then finding us in New York and bringing us back, not to mention everything you did to protect and help me after we fell through Zelena’s portal - that’s more than enough proof that you’re an honorable man.”

Killian wondered if she had any idea just how much those words meant to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t get words past the lump in his throat. He settled for giving her a lopsided smile as his face turned a deep shade of red.

“So, yeah,” she said, “I want you to stay with me tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

He gave a slight nod, and she rewarded him with a smile, then stood and pulled him up beside her. Keeping her fingers threaded through his, she walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad,” she greeted.

David was just finishing up the dishes. He pulled the plug to let the water out of the sink, dried his hands, then turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Hi, Sweetheart,” he smiled. Shifting his gaze toward Killian, he said, “I guess you won’t need to sleep on the floor in front of the mirror tonight, huh Hook?”

“He’s going to sleep in my bed with me,” Emma said without hesitation.

Her father’s brows shot up and his mouth dropped open, then he cleared his throat. Killian prepared to defend himself, but the next words out of David’s mouth took him by surprise. “You…uh, you’ll need to borrow a pair of my pajamas again, I’m assuming?”

Killian blinked rapidly, trying to register the prince’s question. “Aye, if you don’t mind,” he finally responded.

David’s eyes darted between the two of them, taking in their linked hands, before sighing and leaving the kitchen.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Emma said, but despite her confident words, Killian was sure he could hear relief in her voice.

Mary Margaret returned with David, going directly to her daughter and giving her a hug. “David tells me you’re heading off to bed.” When Emma affirmed it, her mother added, “The past couple of weeks have been very tiring for everyone. Sleep well, Sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Killian could see the tears shining in Mary Margaret’s eyes when Emma pulled away to go give her father a hug. He was sure the tears were in response to Emma easily calling her ‘Mom’, after struggling with it for so long. It seemed her time with her parents back in the Enchanted Forest had something to do with that.

David handed Killian the pajamas, then took his turn hugging his daughter, fixing the other man with an intimidating look after releasing her. Killian didn’t drop his eyes, meeting the prince’s gaze unwaveringly. After several moments, David finally gave him a nod, bade them both goodnight, and followed Mary Margaret into their bedroom.

Emma led Killian upstairs, each taking their turn to change into sleepwear. When he entered her bedroom, she was sitting on her bed waiting for him. “I didn’t know which side you wanted,” she explained.

He subconsciously ran his hand over his hook as he answered, “The left side would be fine, if you don’t mind.”

After pulling the covers back, she slid under them and scooted over, turning on her side to look at him. He unclicked his hook, removed it and laid it on the table beside her bed, then slowly pushed his sleeve up and unbuckled his brace. His hand wrapped around the leather covering his wrist, but he hesitated, looking up at her.

Locking eyes with him, Emma reassured him, “It’s alright, Killian. You don’t have to take it off if you’re not comfortable, but I promise you it’s not going to bother me.”

He paused another few seconds, before firmly grasping the brace and pulling it off, placing it beside his hook. Her eyes never left his as he did, not even glancing at his scarred wrist, despite having never seen it before.

Giving her a small smile, he laid down on the narrow bed, positioning himself so he was face to face with her. “I don’t think I ever want to take my eyes off of you again,” he said, bringing his hand up to rub his thumb along her jaw.

“I would despair if you did,” she smirked.

He grinned, recognizing his own words from their first meeting in the Enchanted Forest. “May I ask you something, Love?”

“Sure, but then I want you to tell me what happened to your ship.”

“If you insist,” he conceded.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“Were you happy in that Columbus place?”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug. “I guess, but I was all alone…again. I always had this feeling something was…off. Missing. Things just didn’t feel quite right, you know? And then when I found Henry’s book in the library, it was…” she paused, obviously trying to put her feelings into words. “It was like I had…hope. The stories felt like old friends, even though I’d never read them before; at least, I thought I hadn’t. I guess they were still deep in my memories, despite Rumplestiltskin trying to take them away.”

“We could tell by watching that you were beginning to recognize things.”

“Yeah, especially that picture of the two of us dancing. I couldn’t figure out how it was possible that I could be in there.”

“I knew you would work it out, Swan. You’re bloody brilliant.”

A blush filled her cheeks at his praise. A few beats passed, until she said, “Now, tell me about the Jolly Roger. What happened to her?”

Killian’s fingers switched from stroking her face to scratching behind his ear. “I, uh, she no longer belongs to me,” he admitted softly.

Emma’s eyes grew wide, her mouth forming an O in surprise. “Wh-what do you mean? Who has her?”

He swallowed hard, no longer able to meet her gaze. “Blackbeard.”

“He stole your ship from you?” she asked, anger seeping into her voice.

“No, I…I traded her to him,” he muttered.

She shifted backwards to look more fully into his face. “Why in the world would you do that?”

Licking his lips nervously, he considered how to answer. He hadn’t wanted to tell her all the details about how he found her and Henry after Pan’s curse; what he’d given up and why he made that choice. He was afraid it would overwhelm her to discover how desperate he was to have her back with him. She was just beginning to trust him enough to let down her walls for him, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to build them back up and shut him out.

Finally, he said, “I needed a magic bean and he had one. The only thing he would consider to trade for it was the Jolly.”

“But why would you need a…” she stopped and a strange look passed across her face. “You used the bean to get to New York and find us, didn’t you?”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Aye,” he replied simply.

“You traded your ship for me?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“It was the only way, Emma. Your family needed you and your boy, and I…I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer, so when I got that message from the bird, I did the only thing I could. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I have no regrets.”

“But Killian, it’s your home.”

“They say home is where your heart lies, and…” his voice trailed off, unsure of how she would receive his declaration of her being his home. Silence filled the room as they each got lost in their thoughts.

“I remember telling you that the only one who saves me is me,” Emma said at last, “but you seem to keep saving me again and again.”

He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, whispering his words into her hair. “You have saved me too, Emma, in more ways than you will ever know.”

She was quiet for a long while as he reveled in holding her close. “Do you think we might be able to catch a break and not have a crisis for the next few days?” she asked.

Killian chuckled. “I wouldn’t count on it, Swan. This town seems to attract every imaginable disaster.”

“And yet you chose to stay here when you could have sailed away and left it behind.”

“I stayed for one reason.”

“I know,” she stated. “To get your revenge.”

“That’s why I came here, but that’s not why I stayed.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Why then?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “It’s you.”

He watched the look in her eyes change from wonder to disbelief to awestruck, as tears gathered in them. Then she leaned in and tentatively pressed her lips to his.

Killian slid his hand up to the back of her head, holding her to him as he returned the kiss. Their lips moved softly and languidly together, the tips of their tongues teasing and tasting.

The kiss they shared when she returned had been filled with relief and passion, and left him breathless. This tender kiss spoke of the deeper connection they now shared with one another; one built on trust, understanding, and another feeling neither of them was quite ready to express out loud.

It left him equally breathless.

When it ended, Emma snuggled into his chest, his arms encircling her and holding her tight. He knew she could probably feel his heart hammering in his chest, but if she did, she didn’t mention it.

They lay quietly for so long, he was sure she had fallen asleep, so her words murmured into his neck took him by surprise. “Killian, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Love.”

She raised herself up to rest on her elbow and looked into his face. “Do you ever think about…taking our relationship…to the next level?”

“The next level?” he asked, hoping he understood what she meant.

“Yeah, you know…physically,” she said, a blush moving up her throat.

He reached up to brush his fingertips over her reddened cheek. “I have,” he affirmed. “It just…it never seems to be the right time.”

She ran her hand down his chest and teased the skin under the hem of the henley he was wearing. “Now seems like a pretty good time,” she whispered into his ear, sending shivers of excitement through his body.

“Are…are you sure? Your parents are right downstairs.”

“Despite the upstairs being open, sound in the loft doesn’t really travel; it’s almost as if it’s been soundproofed. I never hear them when they’re…being intimate. Thank the lord.”

A grin spread across his face, but faded almost as soon as it appeared. “Emma, are you really sure?”

Her eyes darted between his before she leaned in and kissed him again, her tongue demanding permission to explore the warmth of his mouth. When she pulled away, leaving him panting, she asked, “Does that answer your question? If not, maybe this will.”

Her hand moved lower to rub against the pronounced ridge of his cock through his flannel pajama pants. He groaned, closing his eyes as he felt his erection stiffen even more. “Gods, Emma!” he gasped.

“Shh, this place might be reasonably private, but I don’t want to test that theory,” she mumbled against his lips.

He would’ve been able to follow her instructions better if she hadn’t squeezed his cock at the same time she was admonishing him.

As she continued to move one hand up inside his borrowed shirt and give attention to his rapidly swelling shaft with the other, Killian began to lavish open-mouthed kisses from below her ear down to her collarbone.

“Too many clothes,” Emma murmured. “I need…”

“Need what, Love?” he asked, between licking at the small marks he had sucked under her clavicle.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” she whispered. “I just…I need more.”

He nodded his understanding before reaching behind himself to grasp the collar of the shirt and yank it over his head. Her fingers went to work right away, skimming through the abundant hair on his chest and abdomen.

“Do you have any idea how often I’ve wanted to do this?” she sighed. “You and your aversion to buttoning your shirts has nearly driven me wild sometimes.”

Her light touches were doing the same to him at the moment, but he wasn’t about to complain. He spent the last two weeks yearning to bring her back. Being separated from her cemented his awareness that he had to have Emma Swan in his life.

“Your turn, Swan,” he said, pulling at the collar of her pajama top.

She sat up and gave him a sultry smirk, then slowly began undoing the buttons down the front of the shirt. His breath caught as her fingers pushed each one through the buttonhole, knowingly teasing him. He was sure it would be worth the wait.

His assumption was verified when she finally shrugged out of the shirt, exposing her splendid breasts to his hungry eyes. “Bloody hell,” he exhaled on a shaky breath, and then he was giving them the attention they deserved - fondling, licking and kissing them, while Emma closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

She fell back on the bed and he shifted to hover over her, his hand and wrist working their way down her ribcage to the top of her pajama pants. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he halted his movements.

“Is…is something wrong?” she questioned.

“What if I…impregnate you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m using birth control.” At his quizzical look, she explained, “That means there’s hardly any chance I’ll get pregnant from…doing this.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good to know,” he replied. “Shall we, um, proceed?”

In response, she grinned and trailed her fingers down his stomach and under the waistband of his sleep pants. He inhaled sharply as her fingers wrapped around his girth, returning the favor by easing his hand down the back of her pants to squeeze her lovely backside.

Their pajama bottoms and underwear soon joined their shirts on the floor and they were completely bared to each other. He knew his Swan had nicely toned muscles on her trim form, but gods above, he could never have imagined how breathtaking she was, her body absolute perfection.

Killian took his time mapping her curves with his fingers, lips and tongue, while her hands roamed and stroked his physique. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to hold himself back, but he was determined to let Emma be the initiator for every step.

When his fingers found their way to the heat between her legs, he could feel that she was very ready. He slid them through her sodden folds, his thumb finding her bundle of nerves. Her legs began trembling and her fingernails dug into his sides.

“K-Killian,” she stammered, voice low and sultry, “I…please say you’re ready.”

“Aye, Love,” he grunted, his cock so painfully erect, he was afraid he would explode as soon as he was inside her.

She arranged herself underneath him, widening her legs, and he settled between them. Looking up, his eyes met hers and he was awed by what he saw there. This wasn’t about satisfying lustful feelings for either of them; he could tell it was more than that. If he had to put into words what was shining in her eyes, he would say it was affection and trust, and a large part of him hoped he wasn’t reading too much into it by thinking he saw love there as well.

Bending her legs, she brought them up on either side of him, then reached down and aligned him at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but her eyes were closed in bliss as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, puffing out short breaths.

When he was completely engulfed in her heat, he rested his forehead against hers, biting his lip to keep from saying the words that were on the tip of his tongue. She had said her heart was back with him where it belonged, but stopped short of saying those three little words. Even though he was completely in love with her, he wasn’t going to tell her, until she declared her love for him first. He couldn’t take the risk of making her run to avoid her feelings, as she was prone to do. For now, he was going to savor the feeling of being joined together with her.

Once he was sure he could move without climaxing too soon, he slowly withdrew and pushed back in. “Faster, Killian,” Emma whimpered, digging her nails into his arse.

He complied, snapping his hips while trying to muffle his groans of pleasure. The pleading gasps she pressed into his chest spurred him to deepen his thrusts and she began lifting her hips to meet them.

Killian could tell she was getting close and started adding an extra grind with his pelvis, which quickly had the desired effect. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her tightly as her orgasm washed over her. He saw her biting her lip to keep from crying out, briefly wondering what it would be like the next time when they were in a more private setting - if there was a next time. Gods, he hoped there would be a next time.

Her walls squeezing his cock prompted his own release. He stilled within her as he spasmed, his breathing harsh and raspy in the crook of her neck.

Their sweat and breath mingled as they lay tangled together, neither ready to move away from the other yet. Her fingers kneaded the skin on his back as he scattered kisses over her shoulder and throat.

After several minutes, Emma finally spoke. “Do you remember when I told you it was a one-time thing after we kissed in Neverland?”

“Aye,” Killian assured her, wondering with a bit of apprehension where the conversation was heading.

“I won’t say that this time, because I’m really hoping it’s not,” she said, lightly trailing her fingertips along his jaw.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” he sighed, pushing up to look into her eyes.

She cupped his face between her hands. “You look exhausted, Killian. We should both get some sleep.”

“Aye, Love. I won’t argue with that, as long as I can stay here with you.”

She gave him a soft kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After using tissues from her bedside table to clean up, they redressed and settled into bed. He held her in his arms, her head on his chest and her legs tucked between his.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Love,” he returned, then drifted off into his first restful sleep since she was pulled away from him, intent on never letting her go again.

*********

Please send @kmomof4 some birthday love. If anyone deserves it, she certainly does!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie

#csff #her heart's home #jrob64 #part II of where her heart belongs #killian's pov #a birthday story for Krystal #happy birthday @kmomof4 #canon divergent #portal transport #wiped memories #cs smut and fluff #cs fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan fic #ouat captain swan fanfic

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saptaincwan · 9 months

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woke up. starvign for more cs fics please if you have recs. lmk,, 💗

#captain swan #also tons of notifs omg i will reply 2 ppl tomorrow mornign #i am Spoiled to hell and back by the thousands upon thousands of cs fics my tastes have gotten so specific 😭#starving for canon divergence/compliance again #tbh i think i can read most of verthing ur all. so talented #peace and love #anchor

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 1 year

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Valentine’s Rerun (1 of 2): Cupid’s Grenade

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @cosette141

Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection. When a mysterious stranger comes to town and sets off a magical grenade in Granny’s during the breakfast rush on the day before Valentine’s Day, the residents of the town suddenly feel extra amorous. What will Emma and Killian do if the spell doesn’t wear off?

CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

He crossed the town line into Storybrooke late on the night of February 12th. He walked for half a mile before he reached anything resembling civilization, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and regroup, a place to plan his next move.

It had been an extraordinarily bad year. So much discord, so much division everywhere he turned. It drained his energy, his very life source like nothing had since the last Ogre War. He needed an infusion, and he needed one fast. Thank the gods Valentine’s Day was little more than a day away.

He passed a shop, dark and closed, caught his reflection in the picture window and jumped back, startled, bringing one wrinkled, bony hand to his equally wrinkled, bony face. He was even further gone than he’d previously believed. He could only hope the rumors about this sleepy little town were true.

“Storybrooke, that’s where you want to go,” the seer had assured him. “Not only is it the only source of magic in this land, but it’s brimming with True Love, both that which is acknowledged, and that which is denied.”

If he had any hope to survive the week, he needed that True Love.

If this world had any hope to survive, they needed him just as badly.

He walked slowly, laboriously, looking for the most opportune place. Town hall? No, it emitted angry energy, a place of discord. A brick building with a sign over the door calling itself The Rabbit Hole was promising, but still not quite right. Finally, he arrived at an establishment with tables and chairs on the terrace, a bright, neon sign proclaiming Granny’s.

Perfect.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning, Granny’s

Killian stepped from his room in the bed and breakfast and headed downstairs to the cafe where he was to meet Swan and her parents for a quick strategy meeting while they dined on Granny’s delectable fare.

He smiled to himself, an extra spring in his step as he walked. The situation in which the residents of Storybrooke found themselves was, once again, less than ideal. An unknown, unnamed villain had cursed them back to Storybrooke and wiped their memories of the past year, and no one had any idea why. He should be concerned; he knew he should, but he couldn’t stop the joy that bubbled up within his heart.

Selfish though the thought was, he was grateful for the villain’s machinations, grateful for the curse.

For it was the curse that allowed him to cross worlds, the curse that allowed him to be reunited with his Swan, the curse that ended the hell that had been the last year without her.

Oh, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d merely needed to return to his pirate lifestyle, but every step he took away from her, away from the hero he’d tried to become for her, had felt wrong, made him feel her loss even more acutely.

Slowly, but surely he’d come to realize that it was more than just the loss of the love of his life that made his pirate activities lose their luster. He’d changed. Not just because of her, but because of himself. He wanted to be a good man, a hero.

Killian stepped into the cafe. Early though it was, the sun had barely come up, the establishment was already brimming with business. He scanned the tables until he saw her sitting at a booth across from her parents.

His heart turned over. She was so bloody beautiful, so bloody precious to him.

He knew she was hesitant to embrace life here in Storybrooke once again. She loved her parents, held at least some amount of affection for him, but the weight of being The Savior hung heavy on her. He couldn’t blame her for wishing to retain the seemingly peaceful existence she’d lived with her lad in New York.

Still, she’d come back with him, had agreed to help her family, the whole town, defeat the newest threat to their safety. He could only hope to one day exhibit half her courage and selflessness.

“Hook, you finally made it,” Swan said, scooting over and patting the seat next to her. “After all your talk about being a pirate and rising with the sun I thought I was going to have to go up and drag your butt out of bed.”

Killian gratefully took the seat next to Emma, using all his willpower to avoid imagining Emma coming to his bed.

“I rise with the sun, darling,” he said with a grin, “but it would seem you lot couldn’t wait for that auspicious occasion.”

Emma looked down, playing with the handle of her mug of cocoa. “Yeah, well we wanted to make sure and meet early enough that we could talk before Henry wakes up. Don’t want the kid to get freaked out with mentions of curses and villains and whatever other crap we need to discuss. He doesn’t have his memories, after all.”

Snow White reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hand on her mug. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find a way to bring back Henry’s memories. Somehow. And until then everyone here has agreed to live like that sleepy, normal town we thought we were during the curse.”

Emma glanced aside, a look of guilt on her face, and not for the first time, Killian wondered if she even wanted her son to regain his memories. He could feel the turmoil coming off of her in waves and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and sooth the tension away.

But he knew his Swan better than that. She’d rebuilt the fortress around her heart over the last, long year of separation, and it would take him some time to help her disassemble it; some time before his advances were once again tolerated, let alone welcomed.

“Okay,” Emma said, after a deep breath, “so we know someone cursed you. We know a year has gone by that you don’t remember. We know crossing the town line turns people into, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, flying monkeys. Anything else I’m missing?”

“I had a conversation with the dwarfs,” David answered, “and after their latest patrol at the town line, they found…”

Suddenly the door to the diner was slammed open, the bell above ringing angrily. The entire diner went silent, still, as the oldest man Killian had ever seen walked slowly in until he was standing in the very center of the room. Dressed all in red, quite the dapper tuxedo and top hat at that, the man walked, hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane. Every eye was on him as he stopped, looked at the gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations Granny had hung, shaking his head at the Cupid with his bow and arrow, and then reached into his breast pocket.

Killian watched, fascinated as he pulled out a small red object in the shape of a heart, pulled a pin from its center, tossed it to the floor and then slowly began walking away.

“Grenade!” Leroy shouted as the object began smoking.

Chaos ensued as the cafe’s patrons scrambled to reach the exits, but it was clear they’d never be free of the building in time. Killian reacted on instinct, moving to cover Swan’s body with his own just as a large “boom!” filled the diner as the heart-shaped object exploded.

He waited for the shock, the pain as the explosive blasted him, but it never came. He looked up to see nothing but a pink, shimmering cloud billowing from the heart, suffusing the diner, and then dissipating.

For a moment he felt an intense burst of love and longing for the woman beside him, and he instinctively looked down into her startled eyes, but then she blinked, and the spell was over. Killian shook his head and sat up, resuming his own seat on the bench.

For a moment, a shocked silence fell over the room, and then an excited buzz began as Granny’s patrons realized they had indeed survived the...whatever the blazes that had been.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma ground out.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, “but I have a feeling we really need to find out.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that afternoon

“Cupid? You’re telling me that old guy was Cupid?”

Emma ground her teeth in frustration, keeping her hands resolutely in her jeans pockets lest she do something stupid like grab her pirate (no! Not her pirate) and kiss the daylights out of him.

What was wrong with her?

After the heart grenade had gone off in Granny’s this morning, she, her parents and Hook had found Belle in Gold’s shop to pick her brain, see if she had any idea who the mysterious old man was.

Of all the answers Belle could have given them, “It appears Cupid has come to Storybrooke,” was the last one Emma had expected.

Of course Cupid was real too, because...of course he was.

Belle reached under the counter and retrieved an old book decorated with flowers and hearts. Flipping through several pages, she turned the tome toward them, pointing to a photograph of a very old man.

“That’s him,” Snow said, “that’s the man who...did whatever he did to us.”

“Like I said,” Belle said, turning the book back toward her. “It seems we’ve been visited by Cupid.”

“Who and what is Cupid?” Killian asked from her side. (Emma ground her teeth again, determinedly ignoring the way his velvety voice made the butterflies in her chest flutter and come to life. Ignoring the intense affection she suddenly felt for him. Ignoring the sudden desire to lace her fingers with his.)

“Best I can tell,” Belle said, “he’s a deity of some kind. He, for lack of a better word, feeds on love. It’s his source of sustenance. The more the world around him is depleted of love, the older, frailer he becomes.”

“And what does that have to do with the grenade or whatever that he tossed at us?” Emma asked.

Belle flipped a couple of pages, and then pointed down at a passage of text. “That’s the interesting part. You see, February 14, Valentine’s Day is his big day of love harvest every year. His grenades contain a powerful spell that...encourages love and affection in everyone on which the spell falls. It reaches its peak in 24 hours, which makes today, February 13 the perfect day to launch it.”

Emma groaned. “A love spell? Are you telling me freaking Cupid cast a love spell on all of us? One that won’t wear off until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

From the second that damn grenade had gone off, Emma had been feeling things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to feel, things she’d been working hard at denying ever since Neverland, maybe even before.

As soon as the spell had cleared, she’d looked up into Killian’s intense blue eyes and felt wave after wave of want, of longing, of...of...love crash over her. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, hold his hand, touch him.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Physical attraction she could handle. Hook was hot, there was no denying that. Feeling a physical pull to him, that was understandable. If she didn’t think it would give him the wrong impression, she’d have no problem giving into her urges. She’d had plenty of one-nighters in the past.

But it wasn’t just physical attraction she felt following the pink, sparkly cloud. No, it was emotions as well. She had the sudden need to talk to him alone, to tell him that she’d somehow missed him during the last year, even though she didn’t remember him. That some part of her had been so intensely happy to see him there at her apartment door that she could hardly contain herself. That his attempted True Love’s Kiss...she didn’t knee him because he’d assaulted her, she’d kneed him because it felt right, like she was coming home and that totally freaked her out. She wanted to tell him she was glad he’d found her, glad he was by her side, glad he’d brought her home.

But that, all of that, was crazy. She didn’t do emotions, didn’t let herself be that vulnerable with another person, someone who could destroy her if she let him.

So all things considered? Finding out she was feeling all this due to a stupid love potion was a relief.

All she had to do was grin and bear it until the spell wore off tomorrow and then everything would be back to normal.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, February 15, 2 hours before dawn

Emma tossed and turned, her fitful sleep punctuated by dreams. Disturbing, troubling dreams.

Dreams where she walked with Hook, hand in hand, down by the docks. Where they talked and kissed. He smiled at her and she smiled back. They were both radiantly, blissfully happy. He led her back to his ship (where was his ship, by the way? She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen it since they’d come back to Storybrooke), down to his captain’s quarters.

She teased him about his tiny bed, he’d laughed along with her, wiggling his expressive eyebrows in that ridiculous way of his, joking that it wasn’t the size, it was what you did with it. He’d swaggered to her, invaded her space, threaded his fingers through her hair as he leaned down and captured her lips….

Henry mumbled something in his sleep, and Emma woke with a start.

The dream had been so damn lifelike. She could still feel Killian’s hand in her hair, feel his lips against hers. Bringing a hand to her chest, Emma willed her heart rate to slow. Why was this happening to her?

The last 36 hours had been torture. Pure, beautiful, intense torture.

Her feelings for Killian had grown and strengthened as the 13th and then the 14th wore on, and though she knew they weren’t real, knew they were caused solely by Cupid’s stupid love spell, more than once she’d almost cracked, almost thrown caution to the wind and bared her heart to the man who was constantly in her thoughts.

Emma had been half sure Hook would use the curse to try to get close to her. She was afraid he’d declare himself again, try to force her into an awkward conversation about the feelings they held for each other, but she needn’t have worried. Killian seemed no more eager to explore the effects of the love spell than she was. He’d left the library soon after Belle explained their predicament, and he’d kept his distance ever since.

He’s giving you space. He doesn’t want to pressure you, to take advantage. He’s always a gentleman.

Emma felt a rush of affection yet again, and that alone frustrated her beyond belief. It was February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day. Why hadn’t the spell worn off?

Emma groaned, getting up and tossing on a sweatshirt and slippers. Clearly she wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight. Better she go down to the diner and get some cocoa rather than risk waking Henry with her frustration.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said on a yawn, settling on a stool at the counter. “Hope I didn’t startle you. I know you’re not exactly open yet.”

“Emma!” she said, stepping around the counter and giving Emma a quick hug. “I’m a wolf, remember? Heard you tossing and turning half the night. Something on your mind?”

Emma buried her head in her hands. “Got any cocoa?”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, turning to give Emma her full attention. “Is this a regular cocoa with cinnamon conversation or a cocoa with rum conversation?”

“Rum,” Emma mumbled. “Definitely rum.”

Ruby tossed her a sympathetic smile, and then turned toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a fragrant, steaming mug of cocoa. Sliding it Emma’s way, Ruby leaned on the counter. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

“So who was it with you?” Emma asked. “You were here the other morning when Cupid dropped his bomb. Who’d it make you think you love?”

Ruby gave her a strange look. “Who’d it make me….? Emma, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the grenade thing,” Emma said. “I figure it made you think you were in love with the closest person to you. Something like that? I was just wondering who it made you love.”

“Emma, you know magic can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”

Emma shrugged, then took a sip of her cocoa. “I know it can’t create real love, but I mean, it was a spell, right? Maybe it makes people think they’re feeling things they aren’t.”

Ruby’s smile was far, far too knowing. “Hook right?”

“What?”

“After the whole love cloud thing, it was Hook that you fell for.”

Emma groaned, making Ruby smile all the wider. “Knew it! Knew the hot pirate had your panties in a twist.”

“Ruby!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking anything but. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, and from what I see of the two of you around here everyday? Yeah the sparks flying from the two of you could start a forest fire.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and buried her face in her hands again. “Ruby, it was just…”

“Don’t even think about saying it was just Cupid’s grenade,” Ruby said, “because, one, I’ve seen the two of you together since long behind that old man dropped his love bomb on everyone. Two, like I told you, no magic can create love. And three, you know who I suddenly fell in love with?”

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

“No one,” Ruby said. “Nothing changed for me at all. You know why that was? It’s because if there is a person for me out there, they’re not here in Storybrooke.”

“But the cloud…”

Ruby shook her head. “Emma, you and your family aren’t the only ones who talk to Belle and do research, you know. After Cupid’s little stunt I paid her a visit too. Wanted to know what was going on as much as you guys did. I discovered that Cupid feeds on love. Real love. True love. Fake, artificially created love would do nothing for him. So his spell doesn’t make people feel things they don’t; it just helps people focus on the things they actually feel.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “So you’re telling me, the hell I’ve been going through for the past day and a half…”

Ruby grinned again. “Yep. You, Emma Swan, have the hots for Killian Jones. Cupid or no Cupid. Besides, Cupid’s spell wore off several hours ago. If it was fake, you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

Emma took one last swig of her cocoa and then carefully placed the mug back on its coaster. “So what am I supposed to do with this now? How am I supposed to proceed?”

Ruby shrugged, walking to the diner’s door, turning the lock and flipping the sign to open. “That’s totally up to you, but my two cents? Go talk to him. Tell him what you’re thinking and feeling. That unsettling feeling isn’t going to go away until you do.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian heard a soft tentative knock on his door and he groaned, swimming reluctantly from the depths of sleep. He’d been having such a good dream, such a beautiful dream. He’d walked with Swan by the docks, taken her aboard the Jolly (how he missed his old girl, though he’d barter her away a million times if it meant he could be with Swan). She’d joked with him about the size of his bunk. He’d kissed her….

Knock, knock, knock

Killian groaned, noting from the pitch black of his window that it was not even dawn yet. He hoped whoever was out there had a bloody good reason for disturbing him.

Tossing on a white undershirt and flannel sleep pants, Killian padded to the door and threw it open.

His irritated “What?” died on his lips when he saw his visitor. Bathed in the soft light of Granny’s hallway, her hair soft against her shoulders, Swan looked like an angel. Killian resisted the urge to pinch himself, half convinced he was still dreaming.

He swallowed hard.

“So, um, can I come in?” she asked with a self-conscious little smile.

Killian snapped his mouth shut and quickly stepped back, gesturing with his hook for her to enter while he flicked the switch that bathed his room with light.

“Of course, love,” he said quickly. “Please, have a seat.”

She looked around and sat on the edge of the second double bed in his room, the one he had not used, and then looked down, picking at a loose thread on the counterpane.

She’s nervous.

Killian’s curiosity was piqued. Why had she come to him at this time of the morning? What could have her so rattled?

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak first, “what brings you to my room, love?”

“It’s just…” She started, before abruptly standing and turning toward the door. “Ugh, this was a mistake. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

He rose quickly, stepping between her and the door. “Please, Swan. Something’s obviously on your mind. Share your burden with me?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“It’s the whole Cupid love spell thing,” she said finally.

Killian suddenly looked aside, hand absentmindedly coming up to scratch behind his ear. “Love, you needn’t say anything. I’ve no wish to pressure you, no wish to hear a declaration bourne artificially out of a spell…”

“That’s just it,” she said, stepping into his space, placing her hands on his arms. “I...I...it didn’t go away. The spell wore off yesterday, right? I’m still feeling everything I was feeling then.”

He looked at her quickly, eyes widened, hope blooming within him in spite of himself. “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying...look, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him until they were seated, facing each other on his bed. “But there’s, there’s something there between us. I’m really glad it was you that found Henry and me in New York. I’m glad you came back to Storybrooke with me. I, I feel better with you beside me. I’m grateful that you’re there to listen when, you know, things get to be too much. I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again, and I can’t guarantee I won’t, I don’t know, build walls again, but I just wanted to let you know, at least once, that if we ever just have a peaceful moment in this town...maybe I’d be willing to see where things could go.”

His heart turned over, and he reached up to cup her cheek, couldn’t help himself. Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her softly, almost reverently. “Swan,” he breathed on a sigh. “You’ve no need to thank me. By your side is where I’ll always wish to be.”

“Good,” she said softly before leaning in to return his kiss with interest.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

He stopped outside Granny’s Bed and Breakfast and looked up at the single illumined window. Breathing deeply, he smiled to himself. His harvest was complete, and what a harvest it had been!

Passing the same shop he’d passed on his way into town he took a look at his reflection. He stood tall and strong, skin smooth and youthful, hair sandy and neatly combed. He was young and handsome once more.

He started walking toward the edge of town but then stopped, thinking better of it. It was true what they said about this town; it was overflowing with love. Perhaps he’d stick around for a while.

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #cs 3b canon divergence #cs valentine's day fic

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makwandis · 1 year

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imagine if I could like actually write out my ideas and make them into fics...imagine....

#i dont think many ppl would read em tho #because i just write extremely canon divergent stuff like it isnt even hetalia anymore #and its just abkut vikings #and i just do it to make myself happy #like cs lewis lmao #i write what i want tk read #so #eh #but if u want viking baltic prussia fics...hmu!?!!? idfk

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ohmightydevviepuu · 6 months

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

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

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

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

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

find the complete story on AO3.

#cs fic #cs fanart #canon divergence #door of time books #rendegade bindery #ficbinding #fanbinding #writersmonth2022

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tomeandflickcorner · 2 years

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Frozen in Darkness (23/?)

Summary: Just when it was looking as if the Nevengers could settle into an every-day life, they find themselves contending with two new arrivals within Storybrooke. First, an amnesiac woman with a magical control over ice and snow. Then a legendary but mysterious king, whose motives are shrouded in secrecy. Part 4 of the ’There’s Always a Crisis’ series.

FF.net

AO3

#frozen in darkness #ouat fic #ouat canon divergence #cs fic #captain swan fic #ouat canon divergence fic

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rueitae · 2 years

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Word count: 4195

Rating: G

Content Warnings: vomiting (baby, it’s a baby burping)

Summary: It is a perfectly average night with Player assisting Carmen with a perfectly average caper. He is interrupted at the worst possible time for a duty that doesn't call for Player the hacker, but Player the big brother.

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego 2019 #player bouchard #cs player #cs fanfic #slight canon divergent #player has a baby sibling #it’s fluff all fluff except for some internal angst #i can’t help it

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cosette141 · 2 years

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Dreamshade (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 3

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 2k (this chapter) | 6k+ (total so far)

Summary: (s3A, "Good Form" canon divergence) Instead of David getting hit with the poisoned arrow, it's Hook. Now it's up to David to get Hook to Dead Man's Peak before Dreamshade takes Hook's life, and maybe learn, perhaps too late, that Hook is far more than just a pirate. h/c Captain Charming

AO3

Chapter 3 (under the cut!)

"You want to keep wasting time or do you want to live to see morning?"

Hook felt shock wash through him.

What he deserved was to die a painful death, alone and unloved.

What he wanted was to live to see the day he wins Emma Swan's heart.

No one has cared to save him in centuries.

No one has cared about him in centuries.

And if he were to put his faith in anyone, it would be the family that had defeated Cora, changed the Evil Queen (more or less), and saved their town from a seemingly-impossible-to-stop destruction.

He has yet to see any of them fail at anything.

Perhaps they could find a way to save his life, beyond the Neverland spring water.

But the one thing he'd never thought possible was David, Emma's bloody father looking at him with something other than contempt.

"Can you stand?"

Hook shook himself a little, refocusing his vision. He had just managed to catch his breath; his jaw was killing him—and that was the second time the prince had struck him this week—and he'd very nearly passed out.

Bloody gods, he was so weak.

The poison was hours away from his heart, and hell he was feeling it.

"Aye," breathed Hook, but was shocked once again when David's expression furrowed with something Hook would almost call concerned.

Swallowing, Hook allowed the man to pull him to his feet. Hook shut his eyes as his sense of gravity tilted, and he used his hook to catch himself on the tree. He blinked his eyes open as it settled, finding that crease in David's brows deepen.

"Come on," he said, "we should tell the girls."

Hook felt his chest clench.

David started back toward the camp, and Hook took a heavy breath, and followed, his hand twisted in the material of his shirt. The poison burned under his skin, making him all too bloody aware of how close he was to his end.

But he forced himself to keep up with David's pace, his heart beating faster.

Once back at the camp, Hook took another breath to steady himself, and released his vest, straightening as much as he could.

"Where's the vine?"

Hook felt his chest hurt at the sound of Emma's voice, walking into view of them. Emma and Snow White had stopped working at the sight of David empty-handed, and Regina even gave them a lift of her brow.

"Uh," began David, with half a look to Hook. "About that… Hook is—"

"—I think there's something we can use to read Baelfire's starmap," said Hook, cutting off David, ignoring the sharp rise of David's brows.

"Hook—" began David with surprise.

Hook shot him a look, then continued, pulling out the torn scrap of material from Liam's satchel—the only part of Liam he kept with him—with shaking fingers. "David and I found this; it's from my brother's—" Sharp pain in his chest. "My… Captain's satchel," he amended quickly, blaming the poison for loosening his tongue, "from the first time I set foot on Neverland," he found himself whispering. "I'd thought it was gone forever. But Pan had stolen many things from those who wander here," he said, shutting his eyes for half a second, trying his best to not sway. He opened his eyes, meeting theirs, Emma's, saying, "If this survived, I believe his sextant did as well. We can use it to decode the map."

David was staring at him with an incredulous look on his face.

But Hook met his eyes, and David held the gaze for a long moment, before saying to the others, "Hook… said it's a few hours' trek from here. I say he and I check it out while you three get in touch with Henry."

Emma and Snow stood.

"You want to split up?" asked Snow softly.

With another look to Hook, who wished he was closer to a tree he could use to steady himself, David said, "It's our best shot."

Snow bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay."

David pulled his wife to himself, kissing her and Hook felt himself look at Emma, who was already looking at him. "You and David on a trip?" she said with half a laugh. "One of you might not make it back."

And Hook swallowed, his chest hurting, because that was more than a possibility, and why she mustn't know the truth of the trip.

"Be safe while I'm gone." he whispered, eyes burning into hers.

Because even if he doesn't make it back…

She must.

Emma seemed a little taken aback by the heaviness in his voice, and she swallowed. "Always am," she said just as quietly.

And his eyes lingered on hers, wanting to say it, needing to say it.

But he can't be another man to love and leave her.

So he feigned a smile, something holding every ounce of his brokenness, the little strength he had left, and he forced himself to walk away, feeling David follow behind.

-.-.-.-.

"What the hell was that?" demanded David the minute they were out of earshot of the rest.

Hook let out a breath, staggering ahead of David, and David felt himself hovering close. The man looked like he was about to collapse. "What?" managed the pirate weakly. All the bravado that he'd shown in front of the girls vanished in a second, and David felt something he never thought he'd feel for a pirate, let alone Hook.

Pity.

"The lying out of your ass," clarified David, matching Hook's slow and uneven pace. "Why the hell did you do that?"

Hook swallowed, stumbling and catching himself on the trunk of a tree before pressing on. He shut his eyes briefly. "Because I'm not entirely sure I'll make this trip," he admitted quietly. At David's confusion, Hook said, "The arrow was meant for Emma." David felt his chest tighten at the reminder that it was almost Emma stumbling beside him, dying before his very eyes. "She'll blame herself." Even quieter, something horribly sad in his voice, he said, "And that is a curse I'll not leave her with."

David hesitated for a moment, at the sheer weight of the words.

Those words sounded heavier somehow.

Experienced.

David felt his mind click pieces into place.

"David and I found this; it's from my brother's—my… Captain's satchel, the first time I set foot on Neverland."

"The spring there… Its water has the properties to heal any ailment. I once used it to heal my br—one of my crew from Dreamshade."

"Since its power comes from the island, it only works in Neverland. If I were to leave Neverland, I'd die."

"It was your brother," said David softly, and he saw Hook stiffen to a stop. "Wasn't it?"

Hook went deathly still.

"You lost him to Dreamshade… didn't you?" said David, stopping beside him.

And he felt himself freeze at the look on Hook's face.

It was just…

Pain.

Hook shook himself a little, pressing on, only saying, "It's not far now."

David felt himself follow numbly.

Because he's never quite seen that kind of pain before.

"She'll blame herself. And that's a curse I'll not leave her with."

Whatever exactly happened to his brother… Hook blamed himself for his death.

Taking blame for anything wasn't exactly the action of a pirate.

And it was becoming more and more like Hook's actions weren't that of a pirate.

Ever since he was a boy, David had grown up with the knowledge—the simple fact—that pirates were selfish scum. Hurting innocents, taking what they wanted when they wanted it.

And the reputation of Captain Hook had spread across the realm. He was not only no exception to David's view on pirates; he was the worst of them all.

David hadn't ever given thought to thieves or pirates beyond that simple fact that they were bad and he was good.

But with the knowledge that Emma had been a thief at some point, stealing from innocent people, and Snow hadn't exactly only stolen from the rich as a bandit.

It was only now that David realized that maybe Hook wasn't the same as people like Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin hurt people for the glee of it, for the sport. He'd chased off his only son and chose not to make up for it when he had the chance.

But what David knew of Hook's life was that he was one of the most feared pirates in the realm, and that he was on a suicidal quest to kill the man who'd killed the love of his life.

For the first time, David felt himself realize that Hook had given up the tirade.

Sure, he was here for Emma, not out of general nobility, but…

Pirates don't care about anyone but themselves.

And pirates definitely don't go to the lengths Hook has for a good time with a woman.

In fact, Hook had gone after his revenge solely for the woman he'd lost.

As much as David hated admitting it, he might have been slightly… wrong, about pirates.

And certainly about Hook.

His innuendos and flirting with Emma and Snow aside—though David had noticed the flirting has shifted fully and solely to Emma recently—Hook has put forth more of an effort to change than Rumplestiltskin and Regina combined.

Rumplestiltskin was here out of obligation to his son.

Regina was here because she needed Henry in her life, not solely because Henry needed her.

And Hook was here, David had thought, because he wanted Emma for himself.

But to sacrifice his life for her?

"Be safe while I'm gone."

David had heard the words, and every emotion behind them.

Hook had changed, and David had been too stubborn to change his own mind about him.

Hook stumbled again before him, letting out a groan, catching himself on a tree, taking yet another break in their trek.

David held back, feeling guilt and fear for the man creep up his spine.

They'd given Regina and even Rumplestiltskin a chance to change, and neither have exactly taken it.

Hook had.

And David suddenly found himself wanting to see the man he became on the other side.

He just hoped, as he watched Hook stumble once again, that they would both be able to.

-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @killian-whump @cocohook38 @deckerstarblanche

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snowbellewells · 4 months

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Self Promo Sunday: "Darkness Before Dawn (Leave Hope's Light On)"

This week's Self Promo fic is another older chaptered CS story that I am bringing back “out of the vault” lol ;p. Though there will certainly be some angst this time around, there is also a happy ending - I promise. This one is a post-Christmas/New Year's themed one, and it takes place between the 4a and 4b timelines of the show (i.e. after the defeat of the Snow Queen, but before Gold returns with the Queens of Darkness) and diverges from there.

Summary: A lovely holiday season has come and gone, and Emma hates to see it end. However, much more pressing concerns quickly take precedence when she and Henry are in a wreck. Now the Savior is fighting for her life, and those who love her can only hope she'll find her way out of the darkness one more time...

*Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if you would prefer...

(I've posted all five parts in this Tumblr post for ease of reading)

by: @snowbellewells

i. prologue

Only three days after Christmas, and Emma Swan finds herself driving Henry back to Regina's where he will stay until New Year's Day. She can't help but feel that the holiday has passed her by in a flash, and she is loath to give up the sense of her first real Christmas with her family, and especially her son, around her. Though she is ridiculously grateful that she and Regina have worked out a schedule agreeable to both of them and Henry; now she is afraid that with Henry gone for several days, all the leftover bits of holiday magic, pure, innocent joy, and the light that might still be lingering, will go with him.

Shaking her head, Emma sighs as she glances across at her son in the passenger seat, lost to the newest app on his iPhone and luckily oblivious to her gloomy thoughts. There is no doubt in her mind that she is being more than a bit silly, but that doesn't make the feeling disappear. Realistically she knows that Regina truly needs Henry right now; he is the one bright spot in a horrible time of loss for the formerly Evil Queen. Emma doesn't want to begrudge the other woman what little joy she can find. Yes, Henry needs to spend the time with his adoptive mother, but Emma still hates to see him go, even for a few days. So much of Emma's life has been spent alone, with no one to care about her, much less be there to share Christmas traditions, and she feels a near-insatiable need to horde the precious moments now that she has them.

It has been more fun that she could have guessed taking Henry to her mom and dad's to help them trim the tree, watching F rosty the Snowman and How the Grinch Stole Christmas , helping Snow bake dozens and dozens of sugar cookies, both to decorate and eat themselves, and then passing the rest out to seemingly everyone in town. She wants to make the warm and jolly December evenings they've spent laughing cozily together last forever, so she will never lose the feeling of being curled up between Killian, whose arm stretches lazily along the back of the couch and over her, and her father, chuckling at Henry as he makes faces to entertain his baby uncle and exclaims over his presents. Emma knows they all felt similar emotions at times, like when her watery eyes met her mother's over the boys' heads and a lump rose in her throat. This year has brought her more of a holiday that she could have ever imagined having a part in as a cynical, unwanted foster child years ago. Killian's arms have tightened around her numerous times in the last few days, and she has known that he understands all too well from the life he had lived. Her father seems to find every possible moment to squeeze her hand in his, as if reminding her that they had always wanted her with them like this.

Without realizing it, Emma lets her mind wander and loses focus for the briefest of instants. It happens so quickly that cause or fault will never be clear. Emma only glances at Henry beside her for a moment; takes her glance off the road no longer that she would need to adjust the heat or the radio volume. Yet, somehow, they hit an unseen patch of black ice on the wintry road, going at full travel speed. The Bug skids, back end fishtailing out one way, and then almost up even with the front, putting the vehicle perpendicular to its original path on the pavement. Emma scrambles to right them, and Henry calls out a warning, but it happens too slowly and isn't enough. Their little yellow car shoots offcourse, seemingly flying from the road and directly into a pole at the shoulder.

Mother's instinct makes Emma's arm dart out in a desperate effort to shield her son, and she feels – with both hope and fear – some of her magical energy leaving her fingertips almost like second nature, in an attempt to protect him. It is the last thing she feels before impact, and then her world goes dark.

ii. the call

"Mom! Mom!" Henry snaps out of the daze he hovered in after the sudden stop and the settling of the car. He can see snowflakes falling thickly through the cracked windshield, and bitterly cold air is filtering in, though he doesn't remember it snowing before they skidded. If his mom had not told him the Snow Queen was dead, and actually hadn't been evil, he would blame the unseen ice and strange drop in temperature while they were vulnerable on her. It doesn't really matter now, but he is still trying to get his bearings and stop his head from spinning. For an odd second or two, it’s like he is in a vacuum; roaring in his ears and dizziness makes him off balance and sluggish, but when his mind clears and he sees his birth mother slumped over the steering wheel, a thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face, eyes closed, not moving, his concern bursts through the haze.

Henry realizes that she must have used her magic to cushion him somehow and didn't have time to do the same for herself. Yet, even as he registers what she has done, the air around him seems to waiver, flicker, and whatever shield she put in place weakens and fades, allowing him to reach beyond it and touch her carefully, worriedly, enough to see that she makes no response.

"Mom…can you hear me?" he tries again. When he still gets no movement or reaction, Henry begins scrabbling around in the seat, then on the floor, until he finds his phone where it has fallen in the confusion. Swiping the screen quickly, Henry calls his other mom, then his Gramps, in rapid succession – once he has gotten an ambulance on its way.

As far as the teen can tell, nothing seems to hurt and he is completely uninjured. The car is caved in clear to the windshield from where it smashed into the pole head-on, but his door isn't blocked. He can get out, but is determined not to leave his mom until help arrives. Whatever Emma did to shield him came at the expense of her own safety, and Henry swallows back both guilt and fear for her at that knowledge. He is momentarily glad to be alone when he feels tears welling in his eyes.

Reaching over the console to grasp his mom's fingers in his, Henry threads them together and forces himself to hope it will all be fine. Her skin feels cold to the touch, and his brow furrows in concern. "Come on, Mom. Hang in there," he murmurs to her fervently, leaning in as though he can assure that she will hear him. "Please."

For some reason, as the silence stretches on and Henry worries more the longer she remains still, he realizes who he has forgotten to call in his anxiety. Killian will have to be told and will be crazed with worry for his mom. How he didn't think to call his mom's boyfriend until now baffles him. Killian will be frantic to get to Emma, to help, to see that she is okay, and he deserves to be with her. Henry genuinely likes the reformed pirate. He has more than earned his place at Emma's side. Hating what he knows it will do to the Captain, Henry also can't put this call off. Dialing once more, the young man waits as he hears the phone ring two, then three, times before Killian Jones picks up, sounding half-confused, half-exasperated at the modern contraption in his hand.

His accent is clear through the wire as he asks, "Henry? What is it, lad? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine. Just listen to me, okay?" Henry swallows hard, not sure what to say, how to deliver what he knows will be an awful blow. Yet, one glance at his mom's still, expressionless face, and he knows he has no choice … Killian might even be able to reach her. Henry is no fool. Both sets of his grandparents are True Loves – and he sees something just as deep and strong, if not as clearly understood, between his mom and Killian.

"Aye, lad," the Captain's voice breaks back in to agree. "My apologies. I will simply listen then."

Henry draws in a deep breath. He hates having to put this into words, but then blurts it out in a pained rush, not trailing off until the end. "Mom and I had a wreck. The ambulance is on its way, and they'll help, but Mom hasn't woken up yet. She's hurt, and I thought you should know what was happening. …I'm sorry…"

Drawing in such a sharp breath it sounds like he has taken a physical blow, Killian is stunned by the news. His chest tightens at the mere thought of Emma and Henry in pain or danger, and his mind is already racing to where she is and how quickly he can get there, what he can do. Yet, in the next moment, he knows there is something else he must take care of first. He can tell immediately by the lad's tone that he is already feeling guilt at being alright when Emma is not, and also at having to be the bearer of such awful news. He speaks firmly, and with intent when he responds. "No, lad, none of that. You need not apologize. You did not cause this, and you should not feel sorry at being unharmed. I have no doubt that is how Emma wanted it. Understood?"

Henry nods reluctantly before realizing that Killian can't see him, then manages a begrudging, "Understood."

"Where are you?" Killian asks, already moving around his rented room at Granny's to throw on his coat and grab the grey knitted scarf that Emma had brought him just a few days ago with a gentle smile and concern that he would take a chill. He is already reaching for the door as he adds, "I'm on my way to you, just tell me the direction."

"Head to the hospital – that's where we'll be."

"I will see you there, lad. I'm starting off as we speak."

"Killian," Henry breaks in again, strangely sounding as if he wants to reassure his mom's boyfriend, even though he is the one who has been in the wreck and is sitting beside his unconscious mother, "I know you were there once. Remember, they patched you up, even though you'd been hit by a car. They kept my gramps alive when he would have died for sure in the Enchanted Forest. They kept me stable when I ate the poisoned apple. They'll help Emma too. They have to! She's going to be alright. Just…I'll see you there, okay?"

"Aye, of course, lad," Killian assures, hearing both the pleading note in the boy's voice and the need to have his hope confirmed. The pirate already feels himself growing more frantic every second, wondering just how bad it is, but he can still try to give her boy a bit of comfort before he gives into his own fear. Though he speaks calmly to Henry, the desperate thoughts are already swirling inside his head. 'What if she doesn't wake? ' His beautiful, blunt, brave sheriff-princess, and he might never speak to her again, nor see her lovely green eyes sparkle with mischief. Killian shakes his head roughly, forcing that line of thought away. 'Not again. Not this time. Swan is strong. She will come back to me.' Killian has to believe that he will not suffer the loss of someone else he loves; even his life cannot be so cruel. "I'll be there as fast as I possibly can," he finishes saying to Henry, hoping the boy will be somewhat appeased; it’s all he has to offer.

"Good. Come find Gramps and me when you do, alright? ... And Killian?" Henry's voice fades for a moment, then adds, "You be careful. Mom will need you when she wakes up."

~~~~~000~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hanging up the phone, Henry lets out a breath of relief. Things aren't really any better, but the part he had been dreading is done. He looks back over to Emma, covering her hand with his own still-growing one, trying not to dwell on the chill to her skin. "Killian's on his way. Neither one of us want to lose you, Mom. I know you've had to do it a lot, but keep fighting. Stay with us."

Soon he hears sirens blaring, and then his grandpa peals up behind them in the town's outdated patrol car and runs to the Bug, ambulance wheeling in right behind him. Next thing Henry knows, David is jerking open the door and crushing his grandson to his chest. "Henry! Are you alright?!" he asks, drawing in a sharp breath as he sees his injured daughter over Henry's head. The EMTs are already easing her out of the car and onto a backboard for the trip to the hospital, and all he can really do is clasp Henry to him more tightly and watch. He feels the boy shaking slightly, even as he tries so hard to be strong. As a father, he wants to ask so many questions about his daughter. 'Has she spoken at all?' 'Opened her eyes?' 'What made her lose control of the car?' But he holds back, comforting his daughter's child instead. There is nothing he can do to help beyond that anyway.

Easing Henry out and guiding him with a hand around his shoulders, David ushers his grandson into the cruiser, studiously ignoring the sniffles the teen is trying to hide. He rounds the front of the vehicle, sliding behind the wheel and immediately turning it around to follow the ambulance. Still, he brakes for a moment, making eye contact with Henry and holding it determinedly. "She’s going to be fine. Trust me," he vows, knowing he shouldn't make such a promise, but unable to believe anything else. His daughter has been through so much to find her happy ending; it cannot be taken from her now. He hears Snow's eternally optimistic voice in his head, telling them to keep hoping, and he will not do anything less.

Henry merely nods in acceptance of his words though, and silence settles over them again as they make their way to the hospital.

iii. keeping vigil

Killian Jones cannot turn off the fear that has overtaken his mind – the worries for her, and the feelings of helplessness, that there is nothing he can do for Emma. He spends the whole walk – more run really – to the hospital with his heart in his throat, feeling it trying to choke him, in almost as much agony as when the Crocodile had held the organ and squeezed it in torture. His heart might as well be ash without her.

Unwanted visions of Emma lying pale and cold, as Milah had in death so long ago on the deck of his ship, flit across his brain – vicious waking nightmares that he cannot seem to banish. It pains him that he is already thinking the worst, when he knows he should not. Just as he once told Emma himself, his Swan too is a survivor. She has been proving so her entire life, and certainly as long as he has known her. Still, Killian cannot quell the near-paralyzing fear; he has lost everyone he ever loved, and he will not survive the loss of Emma as well, nor does he wish to.

Upon reaching Storybrooke General, Killian barrels into the ER, searching for Henry and David anxiously, and finding them in hard, plastic chairs in the waiting room to the right. "Henry! Dave!" he calls out, rushing toward them even as he gets their attention. "Have you had any news? How is she? Can we see her?" He does not mean to deluge them with questions, or to seem frantic in front of her worried son and her father, but he must know.

"Easy, Hook," David cautions, reaching out to place a steadying hand on his shoulder, "take a breath. We'll tell you what we know, but it isn't much at this point. We're going to have to wait."

Killian gives a curt nod and does try to draw in a deep, centering breath. He dearly wants to yell at the Prince, to rail at him for his seeming composure and for telling him to wait on word. Emma cannot wait; he needs to reach her. Instead, he forces the words down, blowing out a tense breath, reminding himself that David loves Emma as well, and is trying to help. "Fine," he grits, making his voice as controlled as possible, though still aching for something to hold onto, practically trembling with the effort of holding his body still, to appear calm. "Just please tell me what you know."

David nods, motioning for Killian to take the empty seat between himself and Henry, after moving their coats off it. "Emma's car hit a patch of ice. There didn't seem to be any others on the route they were traveling; it was just a freak chance of nature as far as anyone can tell. It was cold and starting to snow, and it just happened. They were traveling at road speed, so it's really a miracle Henry isn't in worse shape too."

"No miracle," Henry mutters, looking at his shoes forlornly, bitterness in his tone as he interrupts. "She threw her hand up, used her magic on instinct somehow to protect me, and she let herself get hurt."

Realization dawns on the Prince's face, as if he completely understands something that had been puzzling him. He doesn't comment on his thoughts though, instead moves as if to get up and embrace Henry. Killian jumps in first, getting Henry's attention and making sure the teen is looking at him. "Henry, what did I tell you on the phone? You can't blame yourself. Emma loves you more than anyone else in this world. She would never want to see you hurt if she could prevent it. There is no shame in that. She is your mother and will feel that way whether you are 13 or 33. She would not want you burdened by this, that I know."

"Hook's right," David seconds, making sure that his grandson knows no one believes Henry could or should have done anything more than he has.

Henry doesn't speak to agree or argue, but he seems less angry at any rate, and Killian's worry finally urges him to ask David to continue with his news of Emma.

Sighing, David does as he requests. "Regardless, Emma sustained a serious blow to the head, most probably from the dashboard, on impact. She almost certainly has a concussion, and she hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness. They have her in a private room under observation, monitoring to make sure she doesn't develop any subdural hematoma that puts undue pressure on the brain. If that happens, they will have to go in to surgically relieve it…" The Prince's face is grim as he tries to explain what he has been told, and Killian does not like the troubled expression the royal's eyes take on.

"Let us hope it does not come to that, mate," he offers awkwardly, not sure how else to provide comfort.

They sit in silence for a time, until Regina arrives. She and Henry leave to walk elsewhere in the hospital for a bit. Killian is honestly glad that Queen is here; she loves Henry dearly, and has raised him. She knows as well as anyone could what to do for him and what to say to him in this situation.

He clears his throat once they are alone and asks, "Is anything else being done for her? Can we see her? Sit with her? Anything?"

David shakes his head, trying to dissuade Killian before he goes up against the doctors and the hospital itself. "Right now, they aren't letting anyone in. She needs to be in a quiet, non-stimulating environment. When the doctor spoke to me, they didn't even want her to have visitors. After that, Dr. Whale assured me he would see what they could do. He said that her pulse was slow and a bit thready, while her blood pressure was up, and that her pupils were somewhat unequal in size. Both are concerns if she doesn't wake soon, and could indicate her unconsciousness deepening."

Thankfully, David pauses to draw breath and let that much settle in. Killian honestly does not know how much more he can stand, picturing Emma alone and helpless in such a fragile state. He wishes to be at her side, even if merely to hold her hand. She might have no awareness of him at all, but if there is any part of her which senses that she is alone, he would rather believe that she could sense if he were near as well. Killian knows that Emma's father is about to finish giving him what information he has, and is steeling himself for it, when they are interrupted by Regina and Henry's return and the arrival a few moments later of a harried-looking Dr. Whale.

"Any news on Miss Swan?" Regina asks brusquely of the doctor, cutting across both Emma's love and her father. Her voice sounds sharp and matter of fact, but Killian senses more care under the surface than he imagines Regina intends to show. She may be here for Henry's benefit most, but over time the Captain has seen her come to hold a grudging respect for his tough, no-nonsense Swan. They are qualities the former mayor has as well, and appreciates in others.

Whale looks startled by this new person firing questions at him, but as the prince does not seem to object, he answers anyway. "Not much has changed since I spoke with you last. Ms. Swan has withstood a significant blow to the head and is dealing with a concussion as a result. Her unconsciousness is a serious issue and must be monitored, but is not uncommon with this sort of injury. As long as her pulse returns to normal and her other vital signs remain stable, we are cautiously optimistic that she will wake once her body has had time to recover. If she remains unconscious through the night, we will make sure she is equipped to receive adequate nutrition intravenously in the morning. She will also need to be watched for respiratory difficulty or inability to swallow. However, we will deal with those issues if they arise. In the meantime, I am prepared to allow one visitor at a time, as long as each visitor remains quiet and calm."

Emma's four gathered visitors assure him that they understand all he has said and will abide by his orders; then they are led to the room where Emma rests. Killian is more than willing to allow Swan's father and her boy to each take their turns before him; he is so relieved to see her at all. Besides, once he reaches her side again, he has no intention of leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly two hours have passed when Killian Jones is finally allowed to slip into the silent room Emma occupies and be near her at last. It is nearing 9 o'clock in the evening, and he knows he could not have stood being kept from her much longer. David has gone home to update and reassure Snow, who had stayed with the baby, and all three of them will be back bright and early in the morning. Henry has left as well, with Regina only minutes ago, surprising Killian by wrapping his skinny arms around the pirate's waist in a tight, wordless grasp and furtively wiping a silent tear from his face as he pulled away. "Take care of her, Captain," he had murmured lowly, making Killian aware that the lad knew his intention not to leave her.

"Aye, lad," he had responded in a voice equally low. "Have no doubt of that."

Moving across the room dimly washed in the moon's glow through the blinds, he tentatively reaches Emma and looks down on her before sinking into the chair nearby. For a moment, words are lost to him as he wonders how to reach her. He studies her beautiful, pale features, unable to stop gazing on her as his hand comes up to lightly trace over her cheek.

Speech seems pointless in the stillness of the room and her unflinching slumber. He only wants Emma to know that she is not alone, that she is loved, that he would do anything to bring her back. Bending to place a kiss upon her brow, Killian only whispers, "Darling, if you can hear me…please come back to us, Love. I need you. Your boy needs you. I promise…I will be right here when you wake." He threads his fingers with hers, leaning over the bed rail to keep his face even with hers, to watch in hopes of seeing her eyes flutter open again.

And so he begins the vigil he will keep, no matter how long, until she returns to him.

iv. drifting

Unbeknownst to Emma Swan, New Year's Eve dawns clear and bright, a brittle chill in the air, but a piercing sunlit sky overhead as well. Her son, her family, and her devoted pirate captain have all been waiting, watching, hoping she will wake, wishing each time a new sun rises that her eyes will open to see it and return to them. With a little one at home, David and Snow take turns visiting the hospital in the morning and afternoon while the other stays home with the young prince. As they do everything, the two royals work it out seamlessly between them, an unbreakable team. They set a routine of arriving at 7:00 a.m. – coffee and doughnut in hand for Killian – and never fail to carry on hoping, letting not a single moment of weakness show or a second of doubt that any day now their daughter will be awake to return their morning greeting.

Killian has not left Emma's side since he was allowed in her room that first night. One determined night shift nurse had attempted to shoo him out at midnight, but the words had died on her lips as she entered to find him seated at the sheriff's bedside – silent as stone, fingers of his one good hand tangled with hers, hook resting on the covers where the metal gleamed sharply in the dim light. He had raised a dark brow in questioning challenge, but had not moved or made a sound. No direct threat had been uttered, but it was clear he was not going anywhere without a fight, and from then on they had allowed him to remain.

Regina brings Henry faithfully as well, timing it so that Emma and Killian are not alone long after whichever of her parents has made the afternoon visit is gone. In truth, Killian is grateful for the company. He can only sit so long talking to Emma with no response – no twinkle of her laughing eyes, no sassy comebacks for his best witty flirtations – without wanting to beg her to return, to collapse to his knees, to give into the tide of despair he feels hovering in the back of his consciousness as each day and then night goes by with no change in her.

An IV has been put in, to get fluids and nutrients to her, and though he knows it was necessary, Killian feels a sense of nausea climb up his throat at the thought of her being so helpless, how much she would hate not even being able to feed herself or take a drink of water. His Swan is stubborn to a fault, not willing to give up an inch, wanting to handle all that life throws at her with her own strength and her own two hands. If she were aware of what was going on around her, it would be driving her mad. What really sends him over the edge though is the confirmation that she truly is not present with him; she doesn't know what is happening around her and she can't do it for herself. He continually has to push down the fear that she will not ever again.

After the first two days, it is determined that there is no further swelling or dangerous intracranial pressure. Continued observation reveals Emma's pulse and blood pressure regulating back to normal and her pupils' return to near equal size. Each note is received gratefully by her loved ones, but Emma remains in her distant, suspended state. Dr. Whale tries to caution them all that the brain has its own way and time frame for healing. They need to stay positive, keep visiting and talking to her. He assures them that he has no indication she will not come out of her coma once her body is fully healed and ready, but he also cannot explain to them why it has not already occurred.

A feeding tube is mentioned on the night Emma has been in the hospital a week, and Killian is more relieved than words can say when her father protests rather strongly, asking them to give her a day or two more to wake up before taking that step. The process would not have driven Killian away; he would have been there at her side, squeezing her hand in his, trying to offer her comfort whether Emma was aware of it or not, but seeing plastic tubing forced down his love's throat while she is unaware and can't fight back or speak for herself on the matter – even if it is meant to help her – seems somehow cruel and barbaric to him. Killian honestly is not sure he has the resolve to stand by and allow it without falling apart, much less to be present and watch.

Gradually, with his extended constant presence, the former pirate has grown on Emma's two regular nurses. Though both the day and night nurses had been disapproving at first of this dark, forbidding man disregarding all their rules and haunting their halls, his obvious devotion, his desire to do anything he could to help, and his charming nature had won them over. The day nurse now greets him as she arrives each morning, giving him a maternal smile and encouraging his hope by asking if there has been any change in Emma over the night. The night nurse has more than once covered him with a blanket upon her arrival, finding him asleep in the chair right next to Emma's bed. She cannot help but admire a man who loves that deeply and holds on so tightly; she finds herself anxiously awaiting their little town's sheriff waking to see who she has in her corner.

As Emma's unconsciousness stretches beyond a week, and then two, the hospital staff watches more carefully than ever for respiratory distress. Due to her inability to swallow, they begin suctioning her mouth and trachea when necessary, wanting to prevent any chance of aspiration. After failing to get Killian to leave while the procedure is accomplished, they show him how Emma must first be turned to lie on her side, and he then gently holds her in place while they carry out their task. Emma's pirate remains undeterred by anything she needs from him, only wanting to aid in her comfort, to do anything that might help, might keep her safe until she returns to them. His hands are steadying on her shoulders; he can tell that even unawares the suctioning must cause discomfort from the crinkle that forms between her brows, which he lovingly smoothes with a tender touch. He aches to take the distress from her, and so he watches over her religiously, brushing her hair back from her clammy forehead, watching for even the tiniest hint of movement.

Once all visitors and staff have cleared out for the night and they are alone again, that is when Killian Jones can do nothing more than pull the blankets back over her, take her hand once more, kiss her palm, and whisper to her. "Come, Love, surely you've had more than enough of this. Open your eyes, Darling…please. I am not giving up on you. I know you can find your way back. You are too stubborn by half to let this beat you. This…cannot…be your end."

It is only then, as darkness falls in the middle of the night, the halls are quiet, and Killian is sure no one will see, that he lets his strength crumble. His weeping is silent and fleeting, but his shoulders shake, unable to throw off the fear that his princess has finally gone where he cannot follow.

~~~~~~000~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~0000~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma feels as though she is swimming through a hazy dream world, floating unaware and unconcerned by any of the worries, any of the cares that normally tie her down. She feels no pressure, no impending doom from some new villain, no worry over whether she is doing right by her son, spending enough time with her new baby brother and her parents, serving her newfound home as both sheriff and princess the way all expect of her. No sounds disturb the easy quiet surrounding her, wrapping her up like a warm, soft blanket. It almost feels as though she could close her eyes and sleep for hours, days even, and it wouldn't matter at all. There would be nothing to stop her.

As quickly as that thought comes though, her calm is somehow shaken by a tremor of fear. Sleep for days? No one there to notice or worry about her? No sounds, nothing to see, nothing to do? Something isn't right, and on the heels of that realization comes the awareness that she cannot seem to open her eyes to see where she is or what is happening. She cannot make her arms and legs move or respond to her gradually growing distress. Emma wants to open her mouth to cry out, but her lips don't part and no sound escapes. The cozy grey haze that had seemed so comforting mere moments ago has become a thickening fog strangling her and pulling her down into its depths.

A soothing croon breaks through the darkness surrounding her. Emma cannot immediately place the speaker, but she knows instinctively that this is a voice she loves, a voice she feels comforted by amidst the nothingness surrounding her. "Open your eyes, Darling…please…" the lilting voice pleads, and desperately, painstakingly, with every bit of determination and energy she came muster, Emma moves toward that sound – or at least she attempts to. She surfaces from the sea of swirling fog and finally opens her eyes.

v. welcome back, love

Joyous pandemonium is not an exaggeration for the scene in Emma's room just an hour after her waking. Despite Dr. Whale and the nurses' repeated cautions that they are still in a hospital, that the other patients should not be disturbed, and that Emma should not be overexcited after being unconscious for so long, Emma's family can't help their enthusiasm and relief. Henry is unable to cease motion; one moment he practically bounces on the balls of his feet at the foot of her bed, and the next he shuttles forward to hug her again, as tightly as he dares, and then backs away as if afraid he will break her.

For her own part, Emma never wants her son to let go, but she is still dazed and can barely speak around the lump in her throat, so she wordlessly lets him do as he will. She catches Regina's eye over his head more than once, and though the queen only gives her a silent nod of understanding, Emma senses that even her former adversary is relieved at her return. David keeps bringing her water, trying to smuggle snacks to her, and pestering her for anything else she might need which he can fetch. Snow simply stands at her shoulder, looking at her with a teary smile, and bouncing Emma's baby brother gently in her arms. It is more than a bit chaotic after the absolute peace and quiet Emma has been stuck in for so long…and she loves it.

It had been a different matter when she first opened her eyes an hour ago. Relief had flooded through her upon finding Killian there, fingers of his good hand wound up with hers, speaking to her through the quiet dark. Emma had been so glad she was not irrevocably lost in the grey vacuum of her subconscious that it had taken her a few stunned, blinking moments before registering her sailor's motionless shock, and how he could not cease staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes over tear-streaked, unshaven cheeks - drinking her in as though she might vanish from his sight once more and trying several times to speak before finally stuttering out her name. "Em – Emma? You can hear me?"

She wanted to tease him, to break the tense emotional stakes and make him laugh the hearty, uninhibited guffaw she had only recently learned he possessed. Instinctively though – knowing what he must have gone through if he was sitting there looking as bedraggled as he did while she found herself in a hospital bed – Emma bit back any smart retort on the tip of her tongue and squeezed Killian's hand gently, merely nodding her head in response to his question. She realized just how dry and unused her throat felt anyway; speech seemed a bit more of a challenge than she had expected.

Killian had not seemed at all disappointed by her stillness. The smile that crept over his face at her barest of responses was near blinding and adorably accented by the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Leaning over her, he delicately cradled Emma's face in hand and hook, then kissed her forehead. It might have appeared awkward to an outside observer, but Emma found the gesture immensely comforting. Still gaining her bearings, she swallowed hard, looking up to him for answers.

Her captain seemed to understand, as he always did, what she was thinking. "You've been out for more than two weeks, Swan. And…I will admit…you had me worried." He paused, seeming to need a moment to rein in his own reaction, brushing his fingers through her hair as he did. When he continued, his voice was suspiciously husky. "I must go find your doctor. He will no doubt want to check you over now that you're awake. I shall call your boy and your parents too; they have missed you tremendously."

She nodded her agreement, sensing that Killian hesitated to leave her alone, and gave him an encouraging smile. Secretly, she was thinking how good it felt to wake up to someone looking on her with such love. It was something she had been missing her entire life, and with him, it had been there the whole time – she had only needed to finally see. Twice in the last month, she had nearly lost this; first to Gold's attempt to crush Killian's heart, and now to her accident. Suddenly, Emma was clear on just how much she would be missing without this man in her life, how much she wanted to rest in his adoring gaze every night and wake up to it each morning.

His small upturn of the mouth showed once again that Killian possessed the ability to read at least some small portion of what was on her mind. "I will be but a moment," he assured her as he stood, then leaned back in with a whisper in her ear and teasing glint of white teeth in a happy grin. "Welcome back, Love."

Now, in the midst of the rest of her loved ones, and the night nurse who Emma can immediately see has fallen right under the spell of her pirate's irresistible charm, hugs are flying non-stop, and everyone seems to chatter and laugh at once, both in trying to fill her in on all that she has missed, and back and forth with each other. Emma feels wrapped in a warm, noisy nest of chatter and touch and genuine belonging, and instead of feeling smothered or pressured to respond in the right way, she simply feels happy and grateful to be back.

Killian is still hovering at her elbow. He smiles and nods along with what is said, responds when he is spoken to, but she can tell he is still shaken, still anxiously watching her, making sure she is alright. It is as though he had sat beside her standing guard for so long, fearing she was about to be snatched away from him, that he cannot yet relax and believe the ordeal is over.

As their miniature party breaks up and the rest of the group files out with embraces and promises to return in the morning when she is at last released to go home, Emma finds herself wondering how to comfort him. It was not so long ago that she had been standing frozen in the clock tower, powerless to do anything but watch as the Dark One prepared to kill her pirate. The anguish on his face when their eyes had met in that terrible moment; the corresponding pressure gripping her own chest as his heart was squeezed, and the irrevocable knowledge that Killian was slipping away from her against her will, were still incredibly fresh. The memory haunted her in ways she did not know how to express or assuage. Emma was all too well acquainted with how Killian might be feeling now, but what she didn't know was if she could provide any comfort when she had been the reason for his pain.

"Hey," she whispers, holding out a hand to him, urging her pirate closer to where the bed was raised for her to mostly sit up and interact with her guests more easily, "come here, Captain." Her voice is still a bit hoarse and strained from disuse, but Killian hears it immediately and is at her side almost before she has finished speaking. He had still been at the door from seeing everyone off, but upon her request, he is with her in an instant.

"What is it, Love? Are you in pain? Do you need something?" His hand hovers over her anxiously, smoothing back her hair and brushing over her shoulder, not sure where to settle.

If she doesn't stop him, Emma is pretty sure he will dart away again, off to fetch her something she doesn't even want, when all she needs is him – to draw him close and let him hold her. She isn't sure which one of them needs the contact more, but it has become a desperate necessity. "No! Killian, wait…" she swallows and licks her lips, trying to make her voice sound less scratchy and to gather her nerve. It may be the lingering weakness in her system, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable, but she finds herself needing to take the leap, to let Killian know he is as important to her as she is to him. "I'm fine. It's just…I just…I need you."

His gaze, as deep and blue as the ocean he loves, depthless and encompassing, warms her as he takes her in, almost as though he cannot believe her confession. "Of course…Emma. Anything you want, I will do. I promise, Darling."

Emma's throat nearly closes up at the glassiness of his eyes and the way his voice goes raspy with feeling. She knows by now that Killian Jones does not make a vow lightly, and her yearning surges even higher at his words. Biting her lip, she reaches to take his hand once more, tugs gently, and pats the space beside her on the mattress, before whispering, "Then come here…please…I need you to hold me. I…I th-thought you were gone…"

The hesitant look on her pirate's face is so worried and careful that it makes Emma want to giggle. If anyone who had known him as the fearsome Captain Hook could see him now, it would be hard to believe he was the same man. Yet, Emma can see the truth; his strength and daring have never faded, nor his dashing looks and unwavering air of command, but the drive and determination which had twisted into hatred and pursuit of revenge were once again fixed on heroism – and his commitment to her. "I don't want to unknowingly do you harm," he says anxiously, while refusing to meet her eyes.

"You won't," she breathes, pleading in her gaze when he finally meets it again, "unless you don't get in here." She gives him a playful wink as further reassurance and scoots over until she lies on her side, facing him with her back against the bedrail. She moves the IV so he won't pull it from her arm accidentally and then watches him and waits.

Heaving a sigh, Killian acquiesces, and though he wants to be sure not to hurt her, she knows he is craving the closeness as well. After shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it on the nearby chair and removing his shoes, he finally clambers gingerly up onto the bed next to her. Stretching full length on his side facing her, Killian leans in, nuzzling his nose gently over hers and kissing her lightly, still chaste and soft, but full of intense care. "Alright now, Swan?" he asks.

"Nearly," she responds a bit breathlessly. She reaches out to curl her fingers around the metal curve of his hook, taking this moment to make clear something he should already know. She is not repulsed by or fearful of his appendage – it is merely an extension of him. Pulling the blunted limb toward her body, Emma rests the arm on her hip, letting the hook wrap around her back. Then, she snuggles closer, fisting her hand in his shirt and burying her face in his warm chest.

They lie together like that for some time, comforted by the quiet closeness, heartbeats fitting to one another's rhythm. Finally, she pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. Her words are fierce with passion when she speaks again. "I love you, Killian Jones. Don't you ever doubt that again."

He pulls her back, fervently ghosting his response with his lips at her temple. "You must know I feel the same, Emma. My love for you will never change – as long as either of us live."

The kiss that follows soothes both their fraught, churning hearts and finally brings the peace that both of them seek. Emma's hand finds the short hair at the nape of Killian's neck and begins to stroke through the dark strands. Killian's fear and sleepless vigil catch up to him in her embrace, and he soon drifts off to sleep. It isn't long before his warm, solid presence curled around her protectively does the same thing for Emma and she follows him into slumber.

Anyone else in Storybrooke General that night who peeks into Emma Swan's room cannot help but be touched by the sight of the lost princess- savior and her pirate prince finally at home…with each other. Right there for all to see is a vision of two healing souls finally granted a miracle.

Tagging a few who might enjoy (or have never seen this oldie!) : @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @statustemporary @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @zaharadessert @lfh1226-linda @wefoundloveunderthelight @mie779 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @bdevereaux @justanother-unluckysoul @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @ilovemesomekillianjones @thislassishooked @grimmswan

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #wintry cs angst #darkness before dawn (leave hopes light on)#ouat s4 canon divergent ff #cs five part mc ff #ouat ff

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