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thejollyroger-writer · 3 years ago

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THE WASTELAND - HOME (15/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

A/N: Can you believe it? This story is COMPLETE, which feels surreal and ethereal in unexplainable ways. I've literally been writing this story longer than it took me to write my masters' thesis -- though, needing to write my masters' thesis is most of the reason it has taken me this long. Thank you all for sticking around through it all, if you've been here since the beginning -- and if you've hopped on somewhere along the way, you're just as important to me. Thank you, all. Enjoy the last chapter.

Start from the Beginning // Also on AO3!

For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Emma can feel the beating of her heart in her stomach and fears that something has gone wrong, attempting to use her unhoned magic for too big a task too quickly.

And then, she feels her feet shift on uneven ground and she dares to open her eyes.

Sand.

They're on the shore. Everyone is on the shore, Belle still tending to Will's wounded shoulder and Mary Margaret comforting David, his pain obvious on his face. Killian releases her hand, rushing to the prince's side with his canteen at the ready. The water doesn't heal David as quickly as it did Killian, but as he swallows the few sips he was given, his expression grows relieved and the tendrils of poison retract across his exposed chest before disappearing from the site of the wound. It's not nearly as climactic as Killian's healing was (Emma refuses to think about why that might be) but she still feels a weight lifted from her chest as all traces of the poison disappear, leaving only a small cut on his side where the arrow nicked him.

Killian and Mary Margaret simultaneously sigh an audible breath of relief, her petite form almost comically small as she leans into Killian's shoulder.

"Let's get off this bloody island," Killian says, allowing only a moment's pause before he helps Dave to his feet — though his words are practically forgotten as the forest begins to groan and grumble, trees snapping, cracking, falling to the ground behind them.

And they watch as four, five, six boys move through the treeline, all dressed in rags and covered in dirt.

"The Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, rushing towards them.

"Please take us home with you, Wendy," the one who looks to be the oldest begs, terror obvious on his face, as on all of their faces.

She turns to look at David. "Without Pan's magic, the island will disappear, and the boys will die."

David shakes his head. "I have no argument."

"What about what Pan told your brothers? That only the amount who arrived can leave?" Regina's voice is heavy with worry. None of them want to leave the boys behind, but if it means that no one will make it home, it's a much heavier question.

But Belle is the one to answer. "With Pan defeated, the island holds no power. Even if it wanted to stop us from leaving, it is no longer able."

The oldest boy knits his eyebrows. "Does that mean—" he starts, but is silenced by a deafening thump as another large tree hits the ground, this one not far from the shore and sending a tremor under their feet.

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian says with a smile, gesturing for the boys to lead the way to the waterline and aboard the ship.

"Rufio, where's Felix?" Wendy asks, walking beside the oldest of the boys.

But the boy shakes his head. "He's always been the most dedicated to Pan and here longer than the rest of us, you know that. He said he would rather die here with Neverland than become a traitor."

"Oh, Felix," she breathes, but it does not keep her or the other boys from boarding.

As the rest of them move towards the ship, Emma moves to stand beside Killian, who is waiting to go last as the captain does. He pats Robin on the shoulder, the pain of losing Graham sinking in once more as his body is carried onto the ship. “Take him below decks. Merlin can show you where to find what you’ll need to wrap him.” Robin just nods.

"We did it, Swan," he breathes, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "How do you feel?"

"It's almost surreal," she replies, lifting his hand so she can look at his arm. She still barely believes it, would not have believed the way the water healed him if she hadn't seen it herself — and she still had trouble understanding how easily he was healed by her magic, even after learning of their connection, their destiny.

She still doesn't want to believe it, really. Everyone is so sure that it's about them, that they were prophesied ages ago to go on this journey, to save each other. She's not denying their connection, not anymore, but she still struggles to believe that they were destined to be together because some ancient seer decided it was supposed to be so.

"Let's go home," he says finally, gesturing for Emma to follow Robin and Regina onto the Jolly Roger.

Home. He's not even sure where home is anymore. For years, it was in the Northern Mountains, then with Dave and his band of followers after returning from Neverland. He's been ready for a new home for a while, he realizes, following Emma onto his ship. With her, he hopes. Hell, he's never wanted anything as much as he has wanted to be with her. They're destined to be together, but all he wants to do is kiss her, find all the things that make her happy and never stop giving them to her. He wants to wake up beside her, learn the way her golden waves look in the morning sun, the way she takes her coffee. If it means working beside her in the hospital, doing everything he can to help her while hopefully keeping them from harm — hell, he'll work in a maternity hospital. For her. He would do anything for her.

They leave the island behind quickly, the Lost Boys, Wendy, and a fully-healed Will watching it crumble, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a cloud of dirt that covers the horizon.

Killian doesn't turn back. Some of the others peer over their shoulders but Killian seems to be the only one fully content leaving the island behind without a second thought — but, then again, he is the only one among them to have experienced it twice, to have it take multiple people he loves from him, even if it brought others together.

He thinks of Graham, being prepared belowdecks for burial at sea once they're out of the wretched Neverland waters; he thinks of Milah, who sacrificed so much, who hid her true identity from a world she felt so unsafe in, gone forever in the pile of rubble and debris.

Liam. He thinks of his brother, releasing the helm to feel the large ring hanging from his neck between his fingers. He left Liam behind in Neverland twice, never able to give him the burial at sea he always wanted. Well, he thinks, turning his head to glance behind him, if the entire island crumbles into the sea, then Liam is finally laid to rest as he would have wanted.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to look back," Merlin says from the spot he has found against the railing, only using the basest of his powers to move the ship along the waters until they take to the sky.

"I wasn't going to," he confesses, looking down at the ring once more. "But then I thought of Liam, and the burial at sea he deserved and never got."

"Well, the whole damned island got a burial at sea, and that sure as hell included him."

Killian nods, managing a smile. "That's what I thought, too."

They travel along the water for a few hours, pausing around dusk to bid their final farewells to Graham before taking to the sky. The sun sinks below the horizon, and Killian turns to the same star charts they used on the journey there to guide them home, though this time Emma takes part in all of it: helping Merlin and Belle fly the ship, learning the stars that they use to guide them back to the Northern Mountains. He has always felt at peace behind the helm of this ship, even when it was his brother's; having Emma beside him, his chest pressed against her back as he points over her shoulder towards the stars, is the most at home he has ever felt, and he wishes — on the stars that guide them home, on any good luck charm he has ever known, praying to the gods who have seemed to answer him a lot lately — that it's not a feeling that disappears.

The journey back isn’t as celebratory as expected from a group of people who have evaded what they all believed would be certain death. David and Mary Margaret spend most of the trip in the lieutenant’s quarters, Mary Margaret finding the sleep that evaded her the last few days, the two of them taking turns caring for the other. Merlin and Belle spend the return trip just as they did the journey there, guiding the ship through the air, though when Emma is feeling at her strongest, she attempts to assist them. (The rest of the crew does not fail to notice how Will spends much of his time sitting against the railing near wherever Belle has stationed herself, eating what seems to be a never ending supply of apples and chocolate and other types of random snacks and reading the books spread across his lap, even though he was never known to be a voracious reader before.) Similarly, after being comforted by her after Graham’s burial, Robin and Regina spend most of their time together, a pairing of sensible pantsuits and olive green attire that none of them saw coming.

Wendy and the Lost Boys spend most of their time gaping at the views over the railing, trying their hardest not to get airsick to avoid ridicule, filling their stomachs with each of Merlin and Belle’s smorgasbords as if they have never seen that much food in their life — Killian doesn’t let himself think about how long they may have been in Neverland, just how long it has been since their last decent meal, and he is happy to be the one to offer it to them.

"What are we going to do with them?" Mary Margaret asks Emma one night as she sits with her on the deck, picking at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in her lap.

"With who?"

She points to the boys, throwing small rocks and food scraps off the deck of the ship and laughing as they disappear into the clouds below them.

"I guess we're going to—" she starts, but then realizes that she has no idea how to finish the sentence and leans closer to her friend. "What are we going to do with them?"

It's a thought that never even crossed her mind. She's been so worried about returning to the life she had, possibly even learning to include Killian in the chaos of running the hospital, that she never stopped to think about the people whose lives have been upended because of their trip. Who knows how long the boys have been stuck on Neverland, how long it has been since they were taken from their families — if they ever had them in the first place. Emma remembers the long nights on the streets of the Gale when she wished she were anywhere else,praying to whichever of the gods was listening to give her a place to belong. That's what Pan did for these boys in his own wretched way, she realizes.

“Who knows how long they were stuck on that island. I doubt many of them have thought about what they would do if they ever returned.”

But Emma shakes her head, remembering the nights she stared up at the stars and wondered what her life could be like if she were in any other situation. “I can assure you that some of them have thought about it.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to be that soft, to make the hurt so apparent in her words. She tries not to play the orphan card, especially around Mary Margaret, whose empathy is so strong Emma sometimes thinks she fully understands the heartbreak she tries her hardest to hide even though she only recently lost her father and sees her mother as often as her and David’s schedule allows.

Mary Margaret just nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I suppose we could start by talking to them.”

Emma can’t help but laugh, thinking of how she would have responded in their place — which, she supposes, is exactly what David did, granting her a new life in the infirmary. She wonders if any of them have discovered their powers, or if they would simply hide, dormant, for the years they spend without aging in Neverland. “We should wait until morning, though,” she comments, watching as one of the younger boys lets out a big yawn across the deck. When she turns back to Mary Margaret, she is stifling a yawn of her own. “Looks like it’s your bedtime, too,” she adds with a soft laugh.

“I’m just so tired all the time. Is this all that pregnancy is?”

“I have no firsthand experience to share, but from what I’ve heard, yeah, that’s a big part of it.”

“Someday, Emma,” Mary Margaret comments, and it’s a thought that hits her like a truck. Sure, she’s spent years in the maternity hospital, helping other women bring babies into this world, but having one of her own was never a thought that crossed her mind. Is that what she wants? Could she even bring a child into a world so full of violence and terror and the exact things they’ve been battling for the last few weeks, not to mention the War that has affected every facet of the world for longer than anyone can remember.

It’s at least not a thought that she needs to focus on right now.

“Hey, love,” Killian says, thankfully pulling her out of the depths of her own mind as he approaches them from across the deck. “We’re going to begin the descent back to the water soon. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Killian,” she replies, offering him a soft smile, which he answers with a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m going to bed, then,” Mary Margaret says, one hand on her stomach as she reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand with the other, then moves across the deck to the stairs.

“I can’t wait to be on the water again,” Killian says after a moment of silence, leaning back against the railing, and she steps into his arms.

“Why is that?”

“There’s just something calming about it, something that’s not there in the sky or even on the land. The moment the hull hits the water, I just feel… peace.” She hums, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not just the ocean, either, though. Graham always laughed at me when I would go stand in the rain, or sometimes stay in the shower for longer than I meant to.”

Emma leans back to look up at him, gears turning in her head. Rain. Showers. The ocean. The way his body reacted to the pool on Dead Man’s Peak. Water. “Killian,” she whispers, then cups her hand between them, creating a small pool of water in her palm. “Can you… move this?”

He looks first at her, then at her hands, his dark brows furrowed low on his forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, love.”

“Was your mother one of the merfolk?”

This makes his eyebrows jump towards his hairline, bright eyes wide. “Pardon?”

“Your mother,” she repeats. “I know she passed when you were young, but what do you know about her? Was she a mermaid?”

“No. No, that’s… that’s crazy,” he whispers, staring down at the water in her palm, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the deck between his worn boots.

“Can you just try? For me?” Remembering how her magic reacted to his touch, she reaches her free hand out and rests it on his hip.

He nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “What do I need to do?”

“Think about what you want it to do. Close your eyes. Feel it.”

“What do I want it to do?”

With a soft chuckle, she turns her eyes up to his, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just… anything.”

He nods, but stays silent, holding up his hand in the space between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, Emma can feel what he’s thinking, imagines the small sphere of water rising above her hand before it happens — but then it’s there, right before her eyes, hovering above her palm.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles, his eyes darting to meet hers for a moment instead of staring at the sphere. "And you're… this isn't you?"

"No," she whispers, picturing it falling back to her hand just to make sure — but it stays there, hovering a few inches above her palm.

“Of the merfolk,” he whispers, the sphere splashing back down into Emma’s hands. “I never even imagined.”

“I’ve known for a very long time,” Merlin quips from behind them, his eyes closed but obviously paying attention to them.

“For real? And you never thought to tell me?”

He shrugs. “It was not my secret to share.”

“Why did I not learn about it sooner?”

Emma gasps, pulling Killian’s gaze back to her, and Merlin laughs, finally opening his eyes. “So you figured it out, then?”

“The Prophecy,” she whispers, barely believing the words as she says them. “Their strengths will finally be revealed. That’s the line, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Not just my strength, but both of ours. He needed… me. Us.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that fits a little too well, that makes it hard to deny that they are the ones from the prophecy, brought together by destiny. A chill runs down her spine as Killian’s jaw drops, realizing exactly what her words meant.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. “I need… sorry, love,” he mumbles, backing away from her to go and stand by himself, looking out over the moonlit water as the ship makes its descent.

Emma’s heart drops and she crosses her arms, leaning back until her hips hit the railing behind her. Is it too much for him, now? The man that confessed his love for her in a cave, who has believed in their connection since the first he heard of it? She understands needing space — she would be a hypocrite if she claimed she didn’t — but she still feels a heaviness in her chest, and icy pain in her heart as she thinks of the worst-case scenario: Killian turning away from her just as she realizes she is ready to be with him. When she feels her lip quiver, she pulls it up between her teeth, turning her back to where Killian is standing and taking a few steps away from him. Part of her wants to disappear belowdecks, curl up in her hammock and hide from her feelings, as alone as she has ever been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to take herself somewhere else: counting the supplies in the basement of her hospital, walking along the well-known trails by her house — the very house that she dreamt of sharing with Killian not too long ago. She shakes that thought away and tries again, this time in the palace gardens where she learned most of what she knows about plants, about healing. Then she’s in the hallway, aiding David in a meeting with his advisors, focusing on the echoing of her boots on the stone floors and not the fears running through her mind.

Across the deck, Killian turns to look at her, trying to organize the thoughts jumbled in his brain. A merfolk. He has learned so much over the last few weeks, about the world, his friends, his enemies — himself, more than anything else. He has tasted death and felt true grief, witnessed unexplainable things, traveled to places he has spent more than a decade trying to forget. Every step was harder than the previous, pushing himself harder and farther than he thought he was capable — and for every step, she has been there, healing him inside and out, stitching together his wounds and piecing together the remains of his broken heart. Why is this so difficult for him to grasp, given all of the other impossible things he has witnessed since Emma Swan entered his life? Water has always calmed him, healed him, given him a sanctuary in times when he had no others, the same way Emma became his sanctuary.

He loves her, he realizes, not for the first time, though the thought still threatens to knock him off his feet. He loves her in ways he never knew were possible, more than he ever imagined being able to love someone, loves her in a way that fills the deepest parts of him, dark spaces that hold his regrets and his fears and the few things he has allowed himself to dream about. And there is nothing, no feeling that can compare to the warmth that washes over him when she holds his hand, when she smiles at him. His mind separated the two, his powers and his love for Emma, but he realizes now, in this moment, turning away from the water to find her, that they are not two separate things. His powers only exist because of his love for her, and though the time they have spent together is only the first drop in the ocean of the rest of their lives, he wants to look back on his life overwhelmed by the memories they create together, better because of the other.

Then, he notices the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sits alone by the railing — alone, exactly where he left her. He crosses quickly, his footsteps hard against the wooden planks, and kneels in front of her, carefully reaching out to brush his fingers against her hand.

“Emma?” he whispers, but it is not loud enough to break through the wall that has formed around her, protecting her from whatever kind of hurt she feared he was leaving her with. Leaving her, he realizes. That’s what she fears, more than anything else. Is that what she thinks he is doing? “Emma, love, I’m sorry.” This time, his voice is a bit louder, his fingers a bit firmer on her hand, and her eyes open, a runaway tear falling down her cheek.

“What?” She raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but Killian beats her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, covering her hand with his once more. “I shouldn’t have — walking away from you like that, it was unfair. I don’t want you to think…” he clears his throat, trying his best to smile at her through his stuttering before starting again. “I’m here, love. With you. That’s not going to change.”

“Promise?” she whispers, unable to control the quivering of her lip, and he learns more about her with that single word than the rest of their journey. The both have dark pasts, Emma’s even more than his own, and the traumas that they have endured have left pieces of them broken, pieces that may never be fixed, but pieces that perhaps can be soothed, especially when the darkness rears its head.

None of the words that come to mind are good enough. He nods. Laughs, thankfully answered with a smile of her own. And then leans into her, holding himself up against the railing to keep from crashing into her as he finds her lips with his own. It’s the best promise he can give her, and when she reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, her other hand tightening around the collar of his jacket, he can’t help but laugh against her lips, mumbling the words that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue for the right moment.

“I love you, Emma,” he says, and she resituates them so they are laying beside each other on the deck, pulling herself into him in ways his previous wounds never would have allowed.

“I love you,” she repeats with a giggle of her own, her lips finding his again as the ship touches down on the water, lurching against the surface.

They’re back. The real world — Nephylisis, the Gale, the War. The Wasteland. But they have each other.

Anything is possible.

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiganasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @captainkillianswanjones – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#the wasteland #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cssns #cssns 2020 #my fic #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #fantasy au #if you made it this far and found yourself in the tags please know there is a secret epilogue #but i'm not changing the chapter count #its already written in my head it just needs to come out

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donteattheappleshook · 4 years ago

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It Was Only a Kiss 1 /3

Summary:

Neverland may kill her. If it’s not her fear for Henry, then it will her exhaustion, or her doubt, or the overwhelming despair that she’ll never get out of here alive, that she’ll fail her son, that she’ll fail everyone. There’s only one thing she’s found that can silence it all, that can make her feel real again. She shouldn’t be seeking comfort in Hook. She shouldn’t, but she does. It was only a kiss. That was all it was supposed to be. But now that she’s started, she doesn’t think she can stop. Not now that she knows what it’s like.

Rated E.

Also available on Ao3

My first entry for the @neverlandnewyear

Disclaimer: @elizabeethan and I are very aware that we are basically writing the same story. This is how the event started. A big thank you to Elizabeth for betaing this fic and to @xhookswenchx as well for letting me brainstorm out loud with you guys.

***

Part One: Neverland

It had all started with a kiss. That was all it was supposed to be. Just a kiss; a one time thing. She’d been feeling good, she’d been relieved, he’d saved her father’s life for god’s sake. What she hadn’t expected was that kissing him would make her feel better- would make her feel like, for a second, things would stay better. For a whole thirty seconds, she’d forgotten that she was trapped in fucking Neverland, that her son was missing, that her parents were breathing down her neck, constantly giving her these sad desperate eyes, begging for mother daughter bonding time or ready to offer up speeches about hope.

No, for thirty goddamn seconds- for the first time in months- she’d just been Emma Swan and he’d just been Captain Hook and nothing else had mattered. It had been addictive, that feeling, that relief, the rushing of her blood and the turning in her stomach being brought on by excitement and desire rather than fear and anxiety. So she’d shut it down. “Don’t follow me,” she’d ordered, afraid of what might happen if he did, of what she’d do. She couldn’t start flirting and making out with Hook, or doing anything else with him for that matter. Not while her son was out there, not if she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop.

To his credit, he respects her wishes. He waits a whole twenty minutes before returning to camp, arms full of firewood. She doesn’t miss the nod her father gives him and it raises a strange sort of satisfaction in her. She doesn’t know exactly what went on between them on their little adventure but this is the first time David hasn’t glared daggers at him since they met. When Hook’s eyes meet hers though, she swears the whole damn camp must feel the tension between them.

Her body stiffens, that twisting in her gut coming back in a mix of the good and the bad now, but he doesn’t say anything. He only smiles at her a little sadly before dumping the wood into the fire pit so Regina can light it. Then he takes a seat across the camp, as far from her as he can manage and pulls out his flask. She only realises she’s staring when she catches herself watching his throat as he swallows. Stop.

“We should turn in,” she says, noting how dark it is suddenly. Hadn’t it been midday less than an hour ago? Does time even exist on this island where it seems to both stand still and move too fast?

“Aye,” Hook says, nodding and returning his flask to his pocket. “I’ll take the first watch.” She almost expects her parents or even Regina to protest, but to her surprise no one does.

As they set about unrolling the bed mats, she can’t help but glance over at him. Something is… off. She’s not sure what it is, but he’s quiet. Way too quiet. Normally she can’t get him to stop talking- one innuendo or flirtatious comment after another- but now, nothing.

When she glances over again, he’s watching her, eyes boring into her like he’s trying to burn a hole through her and still, there’s that sadness, that regret. That’s what it looks like: regret. Does he regret kissing her? After all his quips about fancying her and the little playful smirks, has he changed his mind?

She focuses back on what she’s doing. Who cares if he regrets it? She should regret it. It was a stupid idea. Her son is here. Everyday he gets further and further away from her. She knows how easy it is to start believing you’ve been abandoned. How easy it is to slide into the role of an orphan, to build walls. The thought of Henry feeling any of what she spent her whole childhood feeling - it kills her and that unpleasant twisting in her gut is back, the one that makes her want to vomit. She doesn’t know how to get rid of it, how to stop it.

Well, she does know one way. But she can’t do that. Not again. She tells herself that over and over again. She can’t. She tells herself that as she lays down on her mat. She tells herself as she listens to Regina complain about sleeping in the forest. She tells herself as she hears her parents whispering sickeningly sweet nothings to each other. She tells herself again as she hears everyone’s breathing even out and the jungle goes quiet- she can’t. But they’re all asleep. Well, everyone except her. Everyone except her and Hook.

She hears him sigh, a deep, heavy thing, and she turns over to face him. She can’t see him well in the dark but she can make out that his head has fallen into his hand, and can picture him running it through his hair in frustration. Even from here, she can sense how tense he is.

His hand scrubs over his face and he lets out another one of those sighs, this one angrier, and stands suddenly to cross the small space quickly, pacing back and forth. He reaches a tree then and she jumps as he strikes it.

She must have made a sound because his head snaps towards her, clearly on high alert, and it makes her feel a little better having him keeping watch. His shoulders relax when he realises it was her and not some lost boy trying to find his way into the camp.

She meets his eyes in the dark. Even in the blackness of the night, she can feel his stare heavy on hers and her heart hammers against her ribcage. She shuts her eyes tight, determined to just stop thinking about everything- about him, about Henry, about Pan,- and just sleep, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, she finds more fears, more worries, more doubts, and soon she’s sitting up, scrubbing a hand over her own face.

The tell tale sound of his flask being opened makes her turn to look at him as he drinks deeply from it before leaning against the tree he’d struck earlier. His head falls back against it as another sigh leaves him. There’s a long silence, the jungle is heavy and quiet as the dead, not even a rustling of wind or a chirping cricket, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

He doesn’t say anything, but after a moment, he raises his arm while holding the flask out in her direction. She only hesitates for a moment- she shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have a midnight drink with Hook. She shouldn’t want to ask him what’s wrong. Shouldn’t want him to ask her what’s wrong.

She shouldn’t, but she does anyway.

Emma takes the flask from him and swallows a mouthful, wondering for a moment how it could still be full. Knowing him, it’s probably enchanted. The rum feels good as it burns down her throat, settling hot in her stomach. She takes another drink.

She hands it back to him finally and he takes it, his fingers closing over hers around the bottle, and she looks up at him with a sharp inhale. Neither of them move even though every fiber in her body is telling her to step closer. Or to run away. She nearly does, nearly uses their shared grip to pull him closer, nearly turns and heads back to her mat to fein sleep.

But then he drops his hand, taking the bottle with him, and she regains her senses. This is Hook, she reminds herself. He’s one of the bad guys, or he was. She’s not even sure anymore. But he still hasn’t said anything, and it’s starting to worry her. Here they are, almost alone in the dark, drinking together, and he hasn’t so much as raised an eyebrow at her. Surely he can’t regret kissing her that much.

“What’s wrong?” she asks finally, the words falling out of her mouth of their own free will.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you,” she pushes.

He shrugs, taking another drink. “You don’t have to.”

“Hook.”

“Swan,” he repeats and she rolls her eyes. That makes him smile a little at least. “Why are you up?” he asks, turning the question on her.

“Can’t sleep,” she says simply, taking the flask from him again. It’s definitely enchanted.

“Why not?” he pushes and when she doesn’t answer, he grins at her a little. Fine. They can keep their secrets. “Funny thing about Neverland,” he says then, and she looks at him wearily. “The ones who’ve always known love sleep soundly. It’s the ones who’ve been left behind who can’t find rest. That’s why you hear the Lost Boys at night.” She straightens her shoulders, her jaw clenching. Open book, he’d said. He nods, like she’s confirmed something. “So you do hear them.”

“How’s your hand?” she snaps, changing the subject. He doesn’t seem so restful himself.

“Which one?” he asks and she’s relieved to hear the teasing slipping back into his tone. Instead of answering, she takes another drink. He flexes his fingers a few times, turning his hand over to look at his knuckles.

“I’ve had worse,” he tells her, gesturing vaguely with his hook and she nearly chokes on the rum. He smirks and takes the bottle back when she hands it over. “You should sleep, Swan. Get some rest.”

“Yeah, well,” is all she can say. She’d love to sleep, but as long as Henry’s out there… Another silence hangs between them. “He’ll be alright,” Killian says then, and her heart swells into her throat, her voice coming out cracked and weak when she speaks. She wonders if Henry’s sleeping tonight, or if he already feels like a lost boy.

“How do you know?”

“If he’s anything like his father,” he starts and then looks at the ground for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “If he’s anything like you, then I’ve no doubt he can outwit Pan long enough for us to find him. He’s brave, Swan. You taught him well. I know a survivor when I see one.”

And that’s it. She breaks. A sob bursts from her chest, her hand snapping up to cover her mouth as every horrible thought she’s had since they got here- every thought she’s pushed down and refused to face- comes rushing to the surface.

She didn’t teach him. Any bravery, any survival drive he has isn’t because of her. She left him. She abandoned him. She left him to fend for himself in a world that she knew was nothing but cruel. She’s only known him a year. And if this year is all she gets with him, if Pan wins, if he takes Henry from her… She can’t lose him, not when she’s only just found him.

She struggles to muffle her cries, desperate not to wake her parents but unable to stop herself now. She can’t handle another speech about hope, about good always winning. Not when they’re so close to finding Henry but just as close to losing him forever. Good doesn’t always win; life’s proved that to her over and over again. If she’d kept him, if she’d just held him that one time, he wouldn’t be here at all. He’d be safe. He’d be with her. There wouldn’t be any magic or villains or monsters to threaten him. This is her fault. She can’t lose him.

Hook only hesitates a moment before he’s pulling her into his arms, cradling the back of her head in his hand and letting her tears seep into his shirt and his chest, letting her silence her cries against the leather of his coat. Her fingers find the chain on his neck and twist around it for something to hang onto, something to ground her.

He doesn’t say a word and she’s grateful for it. There’s nothing he could say that could make this better. Everything hurts. Her chest burns from strain and fear and she can’t stop thinking, can’t stop crying, though that’s all she wants. She wants it to stop, all of it. She wants to stop hurting. She wishes she’d never come to Storybrooke, wishes she’d never broken the fucking curse, wishes she’d never seen Neal again and let him and Tamara and all this fucking magic and madness into Henry’s life. He’d have been better off without them- without her.

Her sobs slow after what feels like hours, all the energy drained from her body, but the pain won’t go away. She may have run out of tears to shed, but the fear and self-loathing are still wracking her body, making her shake as she holds tighter to Hook’s necklace, her other hand finding the fabric of his shirt and bunching it in her fist.

She can hear him shushing her softly, his lips pressing against her temple as she trembles again. The sharp pain in her chest morphs into an ache that fills both of her lungs, suffocating her, drowning her. It overwhelms her, the grief, as though she’ll never be happy again. She imagines this is what it’s like to have her heart ripped out. She wonders if that would hurt less.

She just wants it all to stop. She can’t take it, feels like she’s going to crumble under the weight of it. She just needs something good. Just one fucking good thing, one good feeling. She turns her face into Hook's neck, seeking the warmth of his skin against her drying cheeks and the comfort of his soothing phrases breathed against her ear. She just wants it to stop. She just wants to feel something else, wants to know she still can feel something else.

She slides her hand from the chain at his chest up to his neck and pulls him down enough so she can press her lips to his. It’s messy and desperate, but he lets her kiss him, lets her fist her fingers in his hair and slide her tongue past his lips, and slowly, the pain is overtaken by this new ache that he stirs in her. It’s not enough, though. His hand is at her hip but she needs it everywhere, she needs him to erase every thought and feeling with his mouth and his hand and his hook. She needs him to make everything go away like he did earlier. She just needs more.

Her lips find his jaw and his neck, trailing heady, open-mouth kisses to his collarbone, and she hears his strangled moan as he catches his lip between his teeth, his breath panting above her.

“Emma,” he whispers, and she knows he thinks they should stop. The others are right there. But like he said, they can sleep soundly. “Emma, wait,” he says, a little desperately as she pushes him back against the tree. But she doesn’t listen. She shuts him up with her mouth on his as her hands reach for the few measly buttons he actually bothered to fasten. Her fingers undo them quickly and move to his belt before he stops her with his hook on her wrist. “Emma, I - I can’t…”

“What?” she demands to know. Why can’t he? She knows he wants to, she can feel the evidence pressing against her stomach through his leathers, and while his hook may have stopped her, his hand has a death grip on her hip. His head falls back against the tree.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, and she can tell from his tone that she won’t like it; that it’ll hurt. She doesn’t want that. She’s had enough of that. She just wants him.

“I don’t want to know.” She shakes her head and tugs him closer, and he lets out a sound that’s close to a whine.

She knew kissing him was dangerous; even as she pulls him back to her and kisses him again, she feels the rush of relief from the exhilaration and she knows she’s already hooked. She craves him and the release she knows he can bring her. “Please,” she says pathetically against his lips.

He doesn’t stop her from kissing him, but he doesn’t move until she reaches for his belt again and he stops her once more. She nearly lets out a cry of frustration, as she snaps her head back to glare at him. He barely gives her a second to be truly angry before his hand grasps the back of her neck and he kisses her like he’s drowning, like she’s the air he needs to breathe.

He turns her, pushing her back against the tree behind her as he tilts her head so he can open her mouth and find her tongue with his own. She moans softly against his lips and reaches desperately for him, clawing at his jacket, sliding her hands into his open shirt, dragging them through the hair at his chest.

He pulls back with a gasp and takes both her hands, pulling them away from him and trapping her arms at her side. She has a mind to protest but his lips find her neck, trailing down her throat to her collarbone and down her chest and the words die on her lips. His teeth and tongue tease at the spot beneath her ear, the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, making her writhe against him.

He finally releases one of her hands so that his own can trace up her side, slide under her shirt and cup her breast in his palm. His thumb drags over the peak through her bra and he swallows her gasp with his mouth. She frees her other hand, giving up on undressing him and tangling both into his hair as he shoves her shirt aside with his hook and drags his tongue over one nipple before taking it into his mouth.

She’s too loud again and his lips quiet her even as his fingers trail down her stomach to the waist of her jeans. He pauses, toying with the button, the scratch of his nails against her skin driving her insane and he looks at her as he pulls away long enough to meet her eyes. She realises what he’s waiting for and nods furiously, dragging his mouth back to hers as he makes quick work of popping the button and yanking down the zipper.

The first touch of his fingers against her center is bliss and fire. She only barely manages to catch her moan, it coming out as a desperate sigh, her forehead falling against his as she grabs his lapels the way she had that afternoon. She expects him to say something, to smirk or laugh or whisper filth in her ear, but instead he just watches her, eyes fixated on her face as his fingers slide inside of her and find a rhythm.

When his thumb finds her clit, she can’t contain the sounds she makes anymore and he captures her mouth with his to keep her quiet, his kisses languid and slow and deep as his hand works her higher. He’s everywhere, his tongue sliding against her own, his fingers curling and circling, his chest pressed to hers. He’s all she can see and think and feel and she lets it overwhelm her, lets all the horrible thoughts of the day and of this place slip away under his touch.

When her mouth leaves his for air- hands fisting tighter in the leather and pulling him even closer as she pants and gasps, already nearly there- his lips find her neck. He presses slow, deliberate kisses against her skin, his tongue playing against every sensitive spot he can find as his fingers and thumb work faster, driving her to that edge she so desperately wants to fall over.

“Yes,” she whispers into the darkness when he finds just the right spot, just the right pace, and he redoubles his efforts. She can feel him watching her, can see the awe and the reverence in his eyes as he watches her come apart on his hand, and it’s too much. She drags his mouth back to hers, rolling her hips and riding his fingers until she comes with a gasp, her head falling back against the tree as for one, small moment, she feels something good again.

When she comes to, he’s pressing soft, gentle kisses to her jaw and below her ear as his fingers slow within her. She doesn’t protest when he takes her lips with his own again, too boneless and blissed out to register the intimacy of his kiss, to be bothered by it. She reaches for the laces of his pants, but he shakes his head, resting his forehead against hers.

There’s a moment when she can tell he wants to say something, his whole body tensing and his brow pulling down like he’s in pain. But instead he kisses her again, harder and more desperate than before. There’s an edge to it, like he worries this will be the last time.

And it should be, she reminds herself. Fuck. She just let Captain Hook finger her against a tree a few dozen feet from where her parents sleep. She nearly let him fuck her against it. What the hell was she thinking? She wants to tell him that this was a mistake, that it was another one time thing,but as his lips leave hers and a sigh leaves him, she knows she can’t promise either of them that.

The moment he steps back, she can feel the bad thoughts starting to creep in again and she nearly grabs him and holds him close just to keep them at bay. It’s never been like this. She’s never craved the comfort of a man’s presence, of his touch before. And it scares the shit out of her.

“You should get some sleep, love,” he tells her and she nods, only half registering what he’s saying. She doesn’t know what to say. Should she thank him? Address what this was or wasn’t? Warn him not to tell anyone? No, he wouldn’t do that. So she says nothing, setting her clothes right and returning to her mat.

She watches him as she tries to sleep, watches the tension return to his shoulders and the heaviness return to his composure. When he looks up at one point, finds her in the dark and catches her studying him, his brow pinches tight and then relaxes, a melancholy and a want settling over his features and it stirs new longing in her gut. Fuck. She should never have kissed him.

***

The next morning, Mary Margaret tells her Neal is alive. She doesn’t believe it. Not until she looks to Hook and sees the guilt and the shame on his face and she knows it’s true. Was that what he wanted to tell her last night? Was that why he wouldn’t let her touch him?

Neal’s alive. The revelation settles like a lead weight in her gut. She can’t. She can’t handle him being alive. After all the pain he’d caused her, his death had finally let her put him behind her, let her move on from everything he’d done… let her begin to see the possibility of being happy again. And now he’s coming crashing back into her life again.

They have to find him. She knows they do; he’s Henry’s father. She owes her son the attempt to rescue him if nothing else. She may never forgive him, but Henry has a right to make up his own mind, so they head off after him. Another detour, another chance at breaking her heart again, another chance to hurt.

She doesn’t know why she tells Mary Margaret. The words just slip out. ‘I kissed him.’ She can’t explain why she did it either, can’t explain to the woman who preaches hope that she feels hopeless, that finding solace in Hook and what he makes her feel is the only thing keeping her alive, keeping her going right now. She’d never understand.

‘I’m sure Neal will understand,’ she says, and it feels like a slap. She thinks she needs Neal to forgive her, after everything he’s done. She doesn’t say much else the rest of the way.

“I kissed Emma.” The confession makes her roll her eyes. They did a hell of a lot more than kiss. How is that his biggest secret? But what he says next, about moving on, about finding love again… until I met you.

Her heart hammers against her chest and she fights to ignore all the feelings his reveal brings to the surface. She’d thought maybe, with Neal dead, she could start to think of moving on, of trying again. But he’s not dead. And Hook just told her he’s falling for her and all of it is too much and she can’t handle it. She needs to focus on Henry. He’s all that matters. Her feelings, what she wants, it doesn’t matter.

When they make their way back to camp, Neal finds her and she feels the need to apologize. Everything she said in the cave was true, but it was harsh. He may have hurt her more than anyone in her life ever had or likely will again, but she can’t help but feel guilty. She blames Mary Margaret.

“I have a secret, too,” he tells her. “I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

Her throat constricts, she can barely talk, barely breathe through it. No! she wants to shout. No, I don’t want that. He hadn’t listened to her at all. She’d told him she wished he was dead, that the idea of him being alive, of being a walking, talking reminder of the worst moments of her life, was too much for her to handle. A part of her may always love him, and she’ll hate that, but she can never forgive him. The thought that he believes they can find their way back to each other, that she can excuse what he did as though it doesn’t matter… she feels small, worthless, all of the bad creeping back in.

He walks away first, going after the others, but she takes a moment in an attempt to compose herself and bottle up all the emotions once again so she can just focus on why she’s here and not on her heart being slowly ripped to shreds.

“Are you coming, Swan?” she hears, and she looks up to see Hook standing a few feet away. His whole body is hesitant, poised to run if she tells him to leave. But she doesn’t say anything. She still can’t find words.

I’ll never stop fighting for you. I’ll never stop fighting for you. It plays over and over in her head and she wants to scream. The thought of him being there, of Neal being around all the time, trying to worm his way back into her life and her heart -

“I’m sorry,” Hook says then and her eyes snap up to his. She frowns. Why is he sorry? “If my confession made things awkward for you and Balefire, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention. I heard you speaking just now and -” she wants to laugh. She almost does laugh.

“I told him I wished he was dead.”

“You what?”

“In the caves. I told him I wished he was dead, that having him in my life hurt too much, that I couldn’t take it. And he took that as an invitation to try to worm his way back in. And Mary Margaret, my mom, wants me to let him. She’s all about forgiveness,” she practically spits. “But if she knew what he did, if she knew…” She’d probably say the same thing, Emma realises with a twist in her stomach.

“What do you want?” Killian asks then, taking a step forward and then another, closing the distance between them. He’s still hesitant, still not turned towards her, but his head ducks down, trying to catch her eye and she does let out a laugh this time. Bitter and hopeless. She doesn’t even know what she wants. She can’t remember the last time someone asked her that. She just wants it all to stop, the barrage of memories, old and fresh wounds opening up again leaving her raw and exposed and vulnerable. She just wants it all to stop.

She shouldn’t. Not after his confession, not when he might think it means more than it does. But she reaches for him, taking his face in both her hands and pulling him to her, slanting her mouth over his, invading his mouth with her tongue, desperate for that release she’s come to associate with him.

He doesn’t miss a beat, both arms wrapping around her waist, tightening and pulling her closer as he groans into her mouth. This, this is what she wants. His lips devour her, tongue delving deep and demanding as his hand traces her side where she isn’t wedged against him. His fingers trail over her breast, her waist, her hip and her thigh, his arm dragging her hips against his own as he rolls them against her, the hard ridge of him pressing against her center through all their clothes and making her gasp.

He bites her lip, soothing it with his tongue before doing the same to her chin and her jaw and her neck and her shoulder, never stopping the steady grind of his cock against the seam of her jeans. She’s lost in the ache and the passion and the pleasure. Fucking hell, how he can make her feel this good with all their clothes on is beyond her, but if he stops, she might kill him.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice cuts through the quiet and she wants to cry as Hook jumps back from her before her mother can emerge from the dense forest. She looks between the two of them, Hook with his back to her, his hand crossed over and resting on the hilt of his sword as he says something about them having thought they heard lost boys lurking in the jungle. She helps them do a sweep but decides they’re safe and they head back to the camp. She can feel him watching her the whole way back.

***

They almost die. Both of them. Over a fucking lighter.

Okay, she knows it’s not about the lighter, but the fact that they let anything get between them, let anything risk their lives, risk Henry’s life… she’s furious. She hangs on to it, grabs hold of her anger with both hands and doesn’t let go because if she does she knows what will creep in. The fear. The fear that gripped her when she saw Killian at the shadow’s mercy.

She tells herself it was hatred and anger at Pan that made her find her magic. But she knows that’s a lie. It was him. The thought that she would lose him. She couldn’t lose him. Not after what he said. When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery. It’ll be because you want me.

Even now, remembering his promise sends her heart racing and her blood rushing through her veins and she wants. She’d almost kissed him then, almost let him in, almost let herself believe that maybe there was a possibility…

And then he went and almost got himself killed and she remembered again, remembered that she couldn’t let herself want him because everyone she’s ever cared about has left her, hurt her, abandoned her. Why would he be any different?

The whole way back to camp, Neal won’t even look at her. It takes her a moment to realise why. Because of her magic. He hates it, is disgusted by it. She heard it in his voice when he asked if Regina was teaching her and it hurts to hear him disparage it, to hear him fear it.

But then, suddenly, they’re arguing again and she snaps. Her mother warned her about the dangers of both of them having feelings for her. She just hadn’t thought this was what she’d meant. She knew that Mary Margaret wanted her to choose Neal, to reunite her family, and she worried that Hook might not react well. But she’d never imagined the risk they would put themselves in. Both of them. She can’t choose either of them, no matter that they’ve both asked her to. It’s too dangerous.

Enough. It's enough. She can’t take it. They already almost died and now they’re at it again. So she tells them like it is. She doesn’t have room for either of them in her life. Not for Neal’s persistence or Hook’s heartfelt confessions. She can’t. Not now. She needs to focus on Henry, on saving him and she can’t do that if she’s spending her time thinking about them. She sees the acceptance on Hook’s face. She can’t do that if she has to watch him die. It would break her.

When she thought Neal was dead, it had been a relief. All that pain had finally managed to leave her after over a decade. But when she saw Hook pinned against that tree, saw the life being ripped right out of him, god, it might as well have been her own shadow being ripped out.

She shuts her eyes as she walks away, trying to block the image of him screaming, of him begging her to go, from her mind. But it won’t go away. It just stays there, playing over and over well into the night as she tosses and turns on her mat. Neal has placed his own right next to hers, closer than she’d like. She’d seen her mother smile when he did it.

Regina’s on watch duty tonight and Emma sighs as she sits up, unable to sleep but glad for the other woman’s indifference to her troubles. Neal sleeps soundly, the sound of his breathing distracting. How can he sleep so peacefully while she continues to grow more and more distressed, continues to break at his hands? It’s not fair. She needs to get away. She needs to just… she glances over at where Hook lays a more respectable distance away.

She can tell he’s awake. His head turns to look at her after a moment and she meets his eyes. He almost died today. At least he has the good sense to look ashamed. She hates how much she wants to crawl across the space between them, feel his heartbeat under her hand, reassure herself that he’s really okay, let him wrap himself around her and hold her until the dread finally leaves her. She wants to let him take everything away with his body against hers, make her forget everything the way she knows he can do so well.

But they’re in the middle of the camp with eyes everywhere, so she can’t. Instead, she has to stew in it. In her fear for Henry, in her anxiety over nearly losing two people she cares about today, in her growing shame over her magic, both her possession of it and her failure to control it. At what he said. At what Hook said and how much it made her want, how much it reminded her that she can’t have the things she wants.

She can’t breathe. Right now, literally feeling like she’s trapped between the two of them, between two paths to inevitable heartbreak, she can’t breathe. She just needs to get away. She stands, storming past Hook and Regina into the thick canopy of trees. It’s not until she’s several hundred feet away that she finally feels like she can take a breath again.

Emma only realises what a stupid thing she’s done when she hears a rustling behind her. She reaches for her sword but it’s not there and panic seeps through her as she realises she left it next to her mat. But before she can look for a place to hide, a figure emerges from the dark and she lets out a breath. Hook.

“Apologies,” he says when he spots her, sees what must be the obvious distress on her face. “I saw you left your cutlass behind. It’s not safe to be alone in this jungle. Especially unarmed,” he warns her, just this side of chastising. She rolls her eyes but sees that he’s holding her blade in his hand and appreciates that he’s brought it to her.

“Thanks,” she says sincerely as she takes it from him.

He nods, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. “I don’t know what’s troubling you, Emma,” he tells her, and her eyes snap to his at the sound of her name falling from his lips. “But I can’t bring myself to leave you alone out here. I’ll step away,” he promises, gesturing back towards the thick brush. “But I won’t stray far should you need help.”

She wants to roll her eyes. He’s seriously going to go stand somewhere where she can’t see him, ten feet away so she can have her breakdown privately while still protecting her? Why the fuck would he do that? Because he cares about you. He nods again, taking her silence as permission and stepping back to leave her be, but she stops him.

“Do you have your flask with you?” she asks.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves it. “Shall I leave it with you?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to go, Hook,” she says and he looks wary. “I’m over it. I just… had a moment.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “Neverland will do that to you.”

She scoffs, glaring at him, pissed off now. “It wasn’t Neverland that did it to me,” she snaps and he frowns. “It was you. You and Neal and your stupid fight. Both of you, risking your life like idiots, like children!” He looks taken aback, searching for words as shame washes over his features again.

“Swan, I’m sorry. We -”

“Did you even mean what you said?” she demands then and he frowns in confusion.

“What I said?”

“All of it. About winning my heart, about moving on from Milah, about wanting me to choose you. All of it.”

His face grows serious then. “Yes.”

“Then how the hell could you do that? How can you make promises that imply you sticking around and then just be so goddamn callous with your life?”

“I’m sorry, love, I -”

“Stop apologizing!” she barks. His head snaps back like she slapped him and she stands there, panting and glaring at him. He studies her for a moment then steps forward.

“No.”

“No?” she demands incredulously.

“No. You’re right. It was reckless and stupid and childish. I know how much you’ve lost and I’m sorry if I made you fear losing more. Whatever this is, Emma,” he says, using her name again as he gestures between them, “whatever it is you do or don’t want from me, I meant what I said in Echo Cave. I meant what I said to you today. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you send me away. And I’m sorry if I made you doubt my intentions.”

“Stop,” she says, unable to hear more. Every word he says makes her hope and every moment she hopes is another moment closer to heartbreak. She can’t let herself care for him. She can’t let herself fall for him. What chance do they have? Her parents would fight her every step of the way, Neal would fight her. And he’ll leave. Just like everyone leaves. Everyone always leaves.

“Swan,” he says, stepping towards her again. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheek as he tilts her chin up to face him.

“Don’t,” she warns again, tears burning her eyes now.

“Is that so hard for you to believe? That someone would want to stay? That I-”

“Stop,” she says again, giving him no choice this time, pulling him to her and stealing whatever words might have fallen from his lips with her own.

She kisses him until a small groan rumbles deep in his throat, reverberating through her and sending tremors of desire coursing through every inch of her body. She can’t let him in. She can’t let him say whatever it was he was going to say. But this, this she can do. She needs this, him. Nothing else calms and excites her all at once like this. Nothing else stops everything like this.

His hand leaves her cheek, tangling in her hair, fisting in it and tugging as he opens her mouth under his. Her hands leave his face, sliding down his neck to his chest to the clasps of his vest. He breaks apart from her as she undoes the first one, looking down at her hands and then back at her with heavy lidded eyes. There’s a question there, a request or a plea.

She answers by undoing the next clasp and he drags her back to him, tongue delving, seeking, teeth nipping at her lips as he guides her backwards until her back collides softly but urgently with a tree. By then she has his vest undone and she pushes it off, shoving his jacket down with it where it falls heavily onto the jungle floor.

She finds his shirt next, not bothering with the few buttons as she pulls it from his pants and lifts the shirt over his head. He releases her long enough to lift his arms and help her to pull it free from his hook. She traces her fingers along his forearms, marveling at the sinewy muscles and dark hair under her hands, hesitating a moment over his tattoo.

She follows the path to his biceps, to his shoulders, tracing the intricacies of his brace on one side, and the defined shape of his obvious strength on the other. She realises she’s never seen his arms before. His chest is always on full display but the rest of him is always covered head to toe in leather, in armour. She traces along his sides next, over his ribs where she notices another tattoo: ‘Liam’ written out in small, elegant script.

She looks at him, so much of him on display beneath her hands. He’s so goddamn beautiful and it sends an ache tugging low in her belly. As she draws her gaze up his neck and jaw to his face, she finds him watching her, something curious and tender beneath the desire. She kisses him again so she doesn’t have to see it. This isn’t what this is.

He takes the hint, hook snaking into her belt loop to pull her hips firmly against his as his hot and calloused hand slides up under her shirt, over her stomach to her breast. She keens when he presses his palm against her, dragging over her slowly, filling his hand before his fingers find her nipple through her bra.

She pushes him back a little, almost smirking at his surprised expression before pulling her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to undo her bra and let it fall somewhere at her feet. She reaches for him but he steps back, eyes raking over her slowly and intently and goosebumps raise everywhere that his eyes burn over her.

“Bloody hell,” he breathes.

“You gonna do something about it?” she challenges, and then he’s on her, lips attacking her neck, causing her to cry out as he sucks a mark into the hollow of her collarbone, dragging his tongue down her chest to her breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling it under his tongue and his teeth and she fists her hand in his hair so tight that she thinks it might hurt. His strangled moan makes her think he doesn’t care.

He moves to her neglected breast, giving it the same treatment before nipping and licking and sucking his way down her ribs and her stomach to her navel and to the waist of her jeans as he kneels before her. He doesn’t ask for permission this time, the way she pushes her hips against him clear enough as he makes quick work of them, sliding them down her legs and pulling them off along with her boots.

He looks up at her, toying idly with the waist of her panties, and it’s the hottest fucking thing she’s ever seen. Killian Jones, Captain Hook, shirtless with his hair a mess, kneeling between her legs and watching her like he wants to devour her. Then he smirks, eyebrow twitching up as he leans forward, holding her gaze as he presses an open mouthed kiss to her covered clit. Nevermind, that’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

“Killian,” she begs, shocking them both as his name falls from her lips. Something flashes in his eyes then and suddenly he’s yanking the fabric off of her and pulling her leg over his shoulder. Fuck. Fuck yes, is all she can think. But… “We don’t have time,” she tells him, knowing that the others could wake up at any moment, that Pan or a lost boy could stumble upon them.

He glances up at her with a smile that she can only describe as devilish. “There is always time, Swan,” he insists. Before she can protest or agree, his tongue is dragging through her folds, licking her slowly until he reaches her clit and pulls it into his mouth.

“Fuck!” she practically yells, head falling back as she fists her hands in his hair. She can feel him smirking against her but she doesn’t care because his tongue is flicking against her clit now, slowly, meticulously, and then quicker as she starts to roll her hips against his talented mouth.

He alternates flicking his tongue against her and sucking on her sensitive bundle as his fingers find her opening and push in roughly, pumping into her hard and fast. One of her hands finds his shoulder, steading herself against him, nails digging into his flesh, and he drives her to her climax so goddamn fast that she barely registers she’s almost there until she’s right at the brink.

She’s gasping, muttering incoherent yeses and pleas, when he suddenly pulls away and stands and she wants to scream. But before she can, he’s freeing himself from his leathers and pulling her knee up over his hip, sliding into her easily despite his impressive size.

Her fingers link behind his neck, her head thrown back against the bark behind her as he thrusts up into her purposefully, each stroke powerful and just the right side of rough. She’s forced to stand on her toes, foot nearly lifted off the ground as he drives into her, but she doesn’t want him to stop. Fuck, she’s never going to be able to stop. Not now that she knows this is what it’s like to be with him.

His head falls to her shoulder, lips and teeth finding her neck as he moves faster and she knows he’s close, can hear it in the desperate sounds he’s breathing against her skin. She’s nearly there, she just needs… He pulls her thigh higher over his hip, hand finding her ass and pressing her closer until he’s grinding against her clit with every push inside of her and that’s it.

Her back arches and her head falls back as she screams out her climax into the quiet of the jungle. He looks up at her, watching her fall apart, brows pinched in blissful anguish as he sets a breakneck pace, seeking his own release. She fists her hands into his hair, tugging and watching as his face becomes almost pained before she captures his lips with hers, biting at his lips, sucking at his tongue until she swallows his moan as it reverberates through her chest and he goes rigid.

She can feel him finishing hot inside her and it sends another little quiver of pleasure through her, her muscles contracting around him and he groans, sliding his tongue into her mouth and seeking her own.

They stay there, pressed against the tree, panting into each other’s mouths, seeking whatever they can find in one another until the sweat begins to cool on her body and a shiver runs through her, bringing her back to reality. He seems to sense the change because he’s the one to break the kiss first.

She just looks at him, unable to process any of her thoughts. She doesn’t know what this means. She doesn’t know what she wants it to mean. The thought that it could mean anything at all is terrifying to her. But a part of her knows she’ll find herself here again. But this is all it can be.

She can’t risk it. Can’t risk him. She’s damaged goods and she’ll hurt him or he’ll hurt her because… she cares. Fuck. She cares. There’s nothing more dangerous or terrifying to her than getting her heart involved. If she has to choose - and she does have to choose - the one where her heart isn’t on the line is the only safe option.

Neal could never break her heart. Not again. She’d have to be able to give it to him first for that.

She tenses in his arms, hands sliding from his shoulders to curl into her chest and she tries to make some room between them. She can’t look at him but it’s like he can read her mind, his eyes casting over her face as she makes her decision. Open book he’s always said.

He lets out a soft sigh of a laugh, self-deprecating and accepting as he slides out of her and pulls back, allowing her room to dress as he pulls his pants back up his hips. She knows he thinks she regrets it. She wishes she could tell him she doesn’t. But she can’t give him hope. And he wouldn’t believe her if she did, not while she’s practically recoiling from his touch.

“So you’ve made your choice then?” he asks, but it’s not really a question.

“Killian…”

“Don’t call me that,” he says, shaking his head and it feels like a knife twisting in her heart.

“I-”

“You don’t have to explain, Swan,” he says. “He’s Henry’s father. He’s a better man.”

She wants to scream at him, tell him that he’s wrong, but that would mean facing whatever it is that’s happened between them, whatever it was that started on that beanstalk and led them here, and she can’t do that.

He watches her for another moment, the pain and the self-loathing written all over his face before he slides his mask of indifference right back up and it hurts to see. It's the one he wore in New York and in Storybrooke after she betrayed him. She supposes this isn’t much different.

He gathers the rest of his clothes, nodding at her once before heading off into the jungle. “Don’t stay out here alone,” he says over his shoulder, and a tear runs hot down her cheek. He may hate her right now, but he’s still watching out for her.

***

They defeat Pan. They save Henry. She still can’t believe it. But they’re sailing back to Storybrooke and her son is sleeping soundly down below in Killian’s cabin. She frowns. She wonders when she started thinking of him as Killian. Probably when you realised how you felt about him, probably right before you broke his heart.

She’s staring out at the sky below them, leaning on the railing and she lets her head fall over her arms. When did everything get so complicated? She feels so lost. She wishes she had someone to help her, someone to guide her. She wishes she had Mary Margaret, her friend, but that woman is gone. In her place is Snow White, her mother. Someone who should understand her but doesn’t.

It’s Snow who finds her, places a comforting hand on her shoulder and gives her a supportive smile when she looks up.

“Are you alright?” she asks. Emma shakes her head, too tired to lie, and her mom gives her a sad look. “Emma…” she starts, and she braces herself for whatever speech is about to come. “I know that love can be scary. And after all you’ve been through, I don’t blame you for being afraid of it. That’s my fault,” she says and Emma wants to say no - well, yes, but not just her fault.

“But if you think that everyone that cares about you and who you let yourself care about is going to hurt you, if you don’t let yourself try and open up to the possibility… you might keep out pain, but you’ll also keep out love,” she finishes, parroting her words from so long ago and for a moment, Emma feels like she has her friend back, like Mary Margaret understands her.

“You owe it to yourself to give Neal a chance,” she says, and it’s like a bucket of ice water falling over her. “I know what you said, about it being easier to forget about the pain and to move on with him out of your life. But he’s your first love; he’s Henry’s father. Don’t you think he deserves a second chance? Don’t you think Henry does, that you do?”

Tears well in Emma’s eyes and her mother misreads them, assuming she’s hit the mark. She couldn’t be more wrong. But she’s right. Choosing Neal is easier. It's what everyone wants. It’s what everyone expects. It's the easiest way to make everyone she cares about happy. Even if it’s at the cost of her own happiness. Of Killian’s happiness. Her heart burns in her chest.

She wonders where Killian is. They’ve barely spoken since their moment in the jungle. He hadn’t been cruel or even angry, of course he hadn’t. But he’d been distant, keeping himself at arms length. She understands that, self-preservation and all. She’s been doing the same. She hears footsteps and looks up to see Neal walking towards them. Mary Margaret gives her an encouraging smile before disappearing below deck.

Neal leans against the railing next to her. “We did it,” he says, a big, satisfied smile on his face. “We got our kid back. We got our family back,” he says and the word is loaded.

“Yeah,” she nods, forces a smile. Neal could never tell the difference between her real ones and her fake ones. “We did.”

He nudges her shoulder with his and she laughs. They did get their son back. That’s the silver lining to this. That’s what she should be focused on. “Emma, listen,” he says then. “I meant what I said. I’ll never stop fighting for you.” His words twist in her gut but she doesn’t let it show. “And now that everyone’s okay, that it’s all over and everything is behind us… maybe we could try again.” Everything is behind us. Just like that he’s wiping his slate clean of any wrongs he’s done her.

“Neal, I-”

“I know I hurt you, Emma. But I had to. You know I did. And we have Henry to think about too. Do you think there’s anything he’d want more than for his parents to get back together? Don’t you think we ought to try? For him?” Her fist clenches against the railing but he takes it in his. “I’m just asking for a chance, Ems.”

She considers him, thinks of Henry. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

He beams, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it, then, before she even knows what’s happening, he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. It’s familiar, slow and practiced and it brings a slew of painful memories rushing back to the surface. He pulls back with a pleased smile and she forces one back.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” he asks and she nods. As she watches him walk away, she knows one thing for sure. There’s definitely no risk with Neal. He could never break her heart. She could never give it to him.

She brings her fingers to her lips, still feeling his kiss and his scruff burning against her chin and it just feels… wrong. It leaves an ache in her, an emptiness and a need, a craving for something else and her whole body hums with it, burns with it. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. She needs to make it right, to set it right.

She walks almost blindly through the ship's lower deck, making her way past the crew’s quarters where everyone sleeps, past the captain’s cabin where Regina is watching over a sleeping Henry, past the galley and the storage and every other room she doesn’t recognize until she reaches the back, the bosun’s quarters where she knows she’ll find him.

She pushes the door open, not bothering to knock and he sits up where he was lounging on the narrow mattress, book balanced on his knee. He’s discarded his coat and his vest, his suspenders hanging at his sides. “Swan?” he asks, a frown marrying his brow. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t speak. She just crosses the room to the bed, shoving the book out of his hands and climbing over him, straddling his hips as she pulls his lips to hers, hands finding his shoulders as she uses his shock to push him back against the pillows.

“Swan,” he breathes against her mouth. “What are you -” She stops his words with her lips again, sliding her tongue into his mouth until she can pull that groan that she loves so much from his chest. “Emma,” he tries again, weaker this time and a little desperate.

She shakes her head, kissing him again, biting his lip, pulling at it, teasing him with her tongue until he breaks, sitting up and kissing her back, taking control as he tilts her head this way and that, arm sliding around her hips to set her more firmly in his lap. Yes. This is what she needed. The press of his lips, the scratch of his stubble, it feels right. And she knows she can’t have it, not really, but she can have tonight. She can have one last night.

She feels him stirring beneath her and she grinds her hips down over his to encourage him. It works, his lips dropping to her neck, sliding her shirt easily over her head and taking her breast in his mouth like he already knows she likes. God, he’s perfect. Perfect in that he’s not. In that he knows he’s not. That he doesn’t pretend to be. He knows her. He understands her. And she knows she’s going to break his heart.

She stops him as his hand begins to trail down to her jeans, pushing against his shoulders until he lays back. She pulls his shirt open, not caring about the few buttons that she sends flying across the floor as her lips latch onto his neck, desperately trying to find the spots that make him let out those sounds she can’t get enough of.

When he’s practically writhing beneath her, she trails kisses down the center of his chest, glancing up at him as he watches her, her lips teasing their way down to the waist of his pants where he’s already straining against the laces. She can see the head of his cock just peeking out and she draws her tongue over him. He hisses, hips pressing up involuntarily towards her.

She makes quick work of his laces, shoving his pants far enough down his hips that she can free him from them and take him in hand. He gasps out her name and it spurs her on, knowing how much he wants her. She’s glad when he doesn’t protest, only watches her as she drags her tongue slowly up the length of him before taking him fully into her mouth.

His back arches, his hook reaching up to find purchase on the headboard as his hand tangles in her hair. The sounds he makes as she works him with her lips and tongue send heat straight to her core, making her slick and desperate as she tries to rub her thighs together and find some relief. He lets out a litany of sighs and moans and words, both praise and filth as she drives him towards his release.

Before she can, he uses his hold on her hair to pull her off of him, to slide her back up his body to face him where he looks at her like he can’t quite believe she’s real. He reaches for her pants, undoing them and pushing them down her hips. She rolls onto her back beside him so that she can work them off and his mouth finds her breast, tongue pulling at her already hardened nipple and making her gasp.

As soon as she’s free of her jeans, she rolls back on top of him, taking his cock in hand and sinking down onto him. They both hold still for a moment, adjusting to the feel of him inside her, to how fucking perfectly he fits. Fuck, she’s going to miss this.

He lets out another moan as she starts to ride him, head falling back against the pillows. She’s never seen him quite like this, so lost in his bliss, so out of control, and god it makes her want him even more. She braces herself on his shoulders, moving over him faster, hips snapping against his, and he looks at her like she might just destroy him.

His hand grabs hold of her hip, pulling her down harder against him as his own hips lift up to meet her with every thrust. She can’t believe how close she is. He’s barely touched her. But with every roll of her hips over his, every time she feels him fill her up again and again, she feels like she’s on fire and she just wants to keep burning.

“Fuck, Emma,” he curses, his brow pinched tight, the chords of his neck stretched taunt. “Emma I’m going to -” he tries to warn her but she only rides him harder, desperate to get him there first. Her nails dig into his chest as she tries to hold off as long as she can and she sees the moment he breaks. It’s the most fucking amazing thing she’s ever seen and it sends her over the edge, collapsing over top of him as they both struggle to catch their breath.

His fingers trail over her spine, his head tilting down to kiss the skin of her shoulder, turning to press another to her temple. God, she wants to just stay here with him, to let him keep tracing patterns over her back, to let him keep kissing whatever parts of her he can reach, to let him just hold her here as long as she needs. But that’s exactly why she can’t.

“Emma,” he says softly, a little hopefully and she rises, getting off of him and standing, pulling her jeans and shirt back on, not bothering to look for her underwear because that would take too long. “Emma,” he says again and she makes herself look at him, makes herself face the hurt she’s causing him. It’s better this way. They’ll only hurt each other in the long run if they keep this up. “So, it’s still Neal then,” he says finally.

She nods. “It has to be.”

“And this was what?” he asks, an edge of anger in his voice. “Goodbye? One last fuck with the pirate before you go back to the man you’re making yourself choose? The one you’re settling for?”

Tears burn her eyes. “Killian...”

“I told you not to call me that,” he says, bitterness in his tone. “It’s Hook you want.” But he’s wrong, and that’s exactly the problem. It is Killian she wants, the man he might be, the man he is, the man she wants too much to trust herself with.

“Goodbye,” she says, backing away towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

***

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @yasbio2015 @the-darkdragonfly @klynn-stormz

#captain swan #cs neverland #cs smut #captain swan smut #neverland new year #captain swan neverland new year #cs angst

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korgidorgi · 4 years ago

Text

OUAT Regina Mills x Reader

Word count: 1637

Warnings: Like, one curse word

Summary: Takes place around S3 Ep13. Reader just arrived back in Storybrooke the previous day. They are chilling in Granny’s Diner, looking through some writings when Regina joins them. They have a chat about something strange that reader (you) had experienced in the past year. It had happened before, but when they were a kid, and it felt so real.

Gender is not specified.

Sitting in Granny’s Diner, you take a sip of your drink while flipping through the pages of two notebooks. One notebook has pages upon pages of storyline and sketches of characters. The other notebook contains notes about the first one, and this little town called Storybrooke, mostly about the people you’ve met in your short amount of time of being in this town since you arrived yesterday. Apparently, Emma, your childhood friend, is in the town too, and her son, Henry, who you haven’t seen in a year.

Emma had invited you for dinner with her, Henry, and a few friends last night, which you politely declined, but ended up going anyway. That’s where you met Mary Margaret and David. You’ve previously met Regina staring at your vehicle when you stopped in one of the stores yesterday when you first arrived; she was at the dinner too. Everyone was very nice, but something was bothering you, you didn’t know what it was at the time, but you’ve figured it out now, you think.

There’s something awfully familiar about the town and it’s people. Flipping through your journals, you finally connect the dots. Sitting in the booth behind you-

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?” A tentative voice brings you back to earth.

You look up, finding the dark haired woman from last night, and the same one you asked Mary Margaret about earlier this morning when you went to pick something up from her apartment that you’d left the previous night.

“No, not at all. Here-” you scramble your notes together to clear the table at least a bit from your spiraling ideas.

Regina takes a seat across from you as you try to organize your belongings, a little embarrassed about the mess.

“Sorry it's such a mess.” You apologize, throwing the loose papers and notes into your bag.

“It’s quite alright.” She responds, flashing you a small smile. “What are you writing?”

“Oh, I uh, I’ve been writing a story. Inspired from my dreams.” You nervously answer, not knowing where to look. “It sounds weird, right?”

“No, not at all.” She reassures, hesitantly placing a hand on top of yours briefly. “May I ask what your dreams are inspiring?”

“I’ve actually been writing in these journals for years, since I was a kid. I’ve always had really vivid dreams, and it was like they’d go in order, like episodes for a tv show.” You begin. “I got so into them, I started writing them down, and sometimes I’d draw some of the people as best I could from memory, but I was a kid, so they didn’t turn out very great. I’m currently looking back into it because I’ve had them again this past year, but they’ve suddenly stopped now. At least my sketches are better.” You chuckle.

“Well, they say follow your dreams.” She smiles over at you, pulling some hair from in front of her eyes. “What were they about?”

“I’m a pirate, I think, and during this past year I met a supposed “Evil Queen”, who I had met in my childhood dreams before.” You begin. “The first major scene I had was following her into a castle and trying to talk some sense into her before she tried to put a sleeping curse on herself. She told me she really missed her son, that there’s no reason for her to continue with her life. I felt bad for her and she poofed me away with some magic and I couldn’t find her again.” You tell her one of the major scenes in your dream, flipping through the pages of the first notebook you used at the re-beginning of the dreams and stopping on a certain page.

Flipping the notebook around for her to see, you let her take in the pencil sketch in front of her. The graphite etched into the paper depicts a mourning Queen sitting in a stone bench of a large room, her hair tied up and her body adorned by an intricately patterned dress, a dark cloak draped over her shoulders. In her hand, she holds a long needle, the tip coated with some dark substance; a potion or curse of some sort. Her features are soft but full of anguish, her eyes holding the most dejected look one could ever see as she looks down at the needle in her fingers.

You watch Regina take in the drawing for a moment before she finally speaks. “That’s very well drawn. And that’s from memory.” She comments, raising her eyebrows as if she’s impressed.

“Thank you, Regina.” You bashfully accept her compliment. “That’s how vivid these dreams are.” You add. “They feel like I’m actually experiencing them. Like I’m traveling to another world and living it.”

She nods at your statement, eyes fixed on the sketch again.

You speak up again, “Can I tell you something? It’s going to sound crazy, but I need to get this out of my head.”

“Of course.” She returns her gaze to you, awaiting what you have to say.

You think for a moment what you want to say first before finally saying one of your thoughts that’s been bugging you ever since you first saw her. “Have we met before?” You blurt out the question, not able to keep your words in check. “I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere, that I’ve known you from somewhere.”

“I don’t think we have.” Regina answers. “I think I’d remember someone as-” She cuts herself off, pausing for a moment to look for the right words. “Someone as adventurous as you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You look down, “Sorry, that was a weird question.”

“No, not at all, Dear.” Regina reassures you.

You flash her a small smile, catching something out of the corner of your eye. A man passes your booth, not noticing your glance at him and leading Henry out of the Diner, to watch over him, you suspect. Regina notices your look, but before she can say anything, you’re flipping through the pages of your journal, muttering to yourself about “where is it”. Regina watches you as you finally stop on a certain page, completely confused and utterly shocked.

“I’ve seen him before…” You gape at your journal.

A sketch of a pirate’s portrait takes up the upper half of the page, as if drawn for a character profile in a novel with a description underneath the sketch. The man has short but well kept hair, one of his eyebrows raised slightly as if to taunt whomever it is he was interacting with at the time of the sketch. His stubble beard brings out some of his more attractive features and he sports a small black earring, almost covered by his black coat’s collar.

“Somehow, my subconscious knew him, and here he is.” You marvel.

“It might just be a coincidence.” Regina suggests. “Your brain doesn't forget faces, maybe you’ve seen someone like him somewhere and your mind just put him in there.”

“Maybe. But how weird is this?”

“I’ll admit, it is pretty weird.” Regina says. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab a drink from the counter, I’ll be right back.” Regina gets up to make her way to the counter of the Diner.

You flip through your journals, looking at all the characters you had sketched from your dream. You notice Regina saying hi to Emma and continue trying to think through what you had just confessed to Regina. Is it weird you told her something so bizarre even though you’ve only just met her yesterday?

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Mary Margaret’s friend, who was going to help her with the baby, walks into the diner. The aura around the woman wasn’t like anything you’d felt. She looks to be intimidating everyone in the diner, yet Regina doesn’t seem to flinch at the sudden entrance like everyone else. The woman waltzes right up to Regina, vengeful determination written all over her features. You watch as she gets up in Regina's face, trying so hard to intimidate her, but failing. You stand to go join Regina at the counter and try to see if you can get another drink.

“Oh, she never told you?” You hear the strange woman say, as she goes on about her being Regina’s sister.

“Of course she didn’t tell me, otherwise I’d know I have a sister.” Regina snaps back, holding her ground.

You interject before the energy in the room gets even more uncomfortable. “Ok, you’re making kind of a scene and people are staring. So, whatever sibling rivalries you have, can you put them on hold and sort them out somewhere else so you don’t cause a scene?”

“Who do you think you are?” The woman sneers. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” You simply state, before trying to shoo the Karen out. “But if you’re going to bring drama in here and bother everyone in the Diner, Karen, you can leave, please and thank you.”

You guide her out the door and watch her huff as she turns to walk away. “Regina, meet me tonight, we’ll settle our differences then. You all haven’t heard of the last of me!”

You turn back to Regina to find the whole diner looking at you. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

Regina approaches you, placing her hands on your upper arms in an attempt to comfort you. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She reassures, looking out the door to watch the woman disappear from view. “Thank you for kicking her out.”

“You’re welcome.” You respond, still slightly nervous. “She was being a bitch to you.” You mutter.

Your response causes Regina to release a small chuckle. “I have a protector now?”

“I guess…” You mumble.

#ouat #regina mills x reader #regina mills #once upon a time #x reader #fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #storybrooke

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lovecanbesostrange · 4 years ago

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OUAT peaked for me during season 2A the heights started in cora's origin story and then reached it's very very highs with snow knowingly killing cora. those run of episodes were electric to me.

Can we talk about the fact that Snow was so horrified of what she had done, that she ran to the shop to warn Regina and stop it. But she came too late. And then a bit later she went to Regina's house and was absolutely begging for Regina to kill her? CAN WE?? Because the show glossed over what they did there. Sure, they show Snow (yeahyeah, I know she went by Mary Margaret, but that name is too damn long to type out and she should've reverted back to it when she was back home with Emma for a day and picked up WEAPONS again, Miss Blanchard didn't leave as much of a dent as other cursed personas) sitting at home, lying in bed, clearly falling into a state of depression. And Regina - who is known for lashing out - realizing once again that this isn't about killing Snow, it's all about taking the happiness from her... standing on her porch with Snow's heart, seeing that black spot, tormenting her with it and Snow doesn't even know what to do with herself.

SEASON 2 HAD SO MANY DARK MOMENTS THAT GOT UNDERPLAYED!!! (Including Ruby deciding that suicide-by-mob would be a deserving punhishment and also Whale jumping into the water drunk, who knows maybe he's a bad swimmer, banking on going under. And also August living in the woods slowly turning into wood.)

Cora was such a delicious villain. And in her own backstory she gets sympathy points. But you can see that enjoys her scheming in ways that not even Rumple does (I wish they played Rumple more as an agent of chaos and not this one-dimensional bit of "I want all the power", he was best when switching side to side for amusement and not just personal gain, that would have helped a lot). And then we find out that Cora had pulled her own heart out to make herself stone-cold, to cut love out of her life. AMAZING!

The only other villain this dedicated was Cruella, who just went "I like murder and fashion". In the end the whole show is Regina's redemption arc (that does not end with a man by her side, but a crown on her head). And that's fantastic. And it's also important that the villains all have their own history. But some need to be evil and not constantly show cracks in their walls. COMMIT TO THE CRIMES!

The way Cora broke her own daughter AGAIN and pitted the town against her. *chefs kiss* And Snow wanted to stop her at all cost. Uh, how much do I love that moment when Emma meets Cora and then Snow steps in! "As bad as you think Regina is, this woman is worse." It's so funny, because Emma is the one who will give Regina chances to be better. And Snow has come to the realization that her true war is with Cora. And Barbara Hershey is so fucking good in the role!! (I would have been here for Cora/Rumple tbh.)

When Emma and Snow return - and bring Cora and Hook with them - while suddenly Greg, the Outsider, appears. THE SHOW HAD SO MANY POSSIBLE ROADS TO TAKE! And the one they followed with Cora was magnificent to watch. And it all framed Regina in a new light. We'd seen Cora before, so that the Evil Queen has her own demons and all. But it got so much better! I mean Snow is like "She tried to kill us - yesterday", but if she had to like choose to either save Regina or Cora, that would not even be a question and she would want to save Regina, still owing her from all those years ago and wanting that friendship back.

I LOVE SO MUCH IN THIS SHOW WITH ALL MY HEART, BUT IT'S MOSTLY THE FIRST TWO SEASONS.

But then the last eps of S2... something is just not right. When Regina finds the beans, is in super-evil-scheme-mode, Lacey is... there, Greg & Tamara get one cool moment, but ultimately don't do anything... (the one bit I love of course is in The Evil Queen, where Regina disguises herself as a peasant and meets bandit!Snow, but it's like the show takes the wrong conclusion to explain evil!Regina in the present...), even Neal being in Storybrooke felt like a waste, because they didn't give him a chance right then to fully explore his baggage.

To go back to the beginning of this post, Snow going to the woods in Selfless, Brave and True to shoot some arrows set to Bad Reputation was a masterpiece. And sadly the last we saw of her dealing with those dark emotions, I guess. Insert here, my obligatory rant that not having Snow's best friend by her side to go through this whole thing is stupid, if Snow battles depression I want her husband, her daughter, her grandson, her bff, her seven past roommates and her cricket therapist involved - which almost happens in the end (except her bestie, who is my fav as we all know) and I love Regina's self-sacrifice play that feels so weird after those eps before... and then it's the Hook show.................................................. *eternal sigh*

#OUaT #if you poke me with a mention of this show word vomit falls out...#like a lot of this show caters so specifically to my taste but it's like before the whole meal is served someone dumps raisins on #(except worse some of the raisins are just rabbit poop....)#I want to cry ;___;#ramblings #(I like how they twisted Neal's and August's story into one but when it happens with Neal and Hook again it's so forced to me)

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iliumheightnights · 5 years ago

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Not My Sister | David Nolan x Male Reader

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: David Nolan x Male!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is the brother of the evil queen, and everyone knows it. What everyone doesn’t know is that he has a big crush on prince charming himself. However it feels like they could only be together in another world.

Being the brother to the “evil” queen wasn’t easy.

First of all you were nothing like your sister and everyone didn’t seem to get the memo. You were painted as being pretty much the exact same as her. You weren’t.

People might have said you were evil because you had magic just like your sister. However you only ever used it for self defense or to protect others.

The first time you met Prince Charming you were looking for Snow White hoping to try and warn her about your sister.

You were on your horse as the forest rushed past you, suddenly you were hit in the stomach with a branch.

You came to and saw a man standing above you with a sword pointed at your throat.

“Well if it isn’t the brother of the evil queen. Maybe I should take your prisoner here and now.”

“Ugh this again? I don’t think you people understand I am nothing like her.”

You waved your arms and watched as the prince flew back and hit a tree.

“I really don’t want to fight you, but I’m not about to be anybody’s prisoner.”

Now did you two fight? Yes. Was it really a fight though? No.

It was more or less you dodging his sword and pushing him back with magic.

“I really don’t have time for this. I have to warn Snow White.”

“Wait warn-”

Before he could finish talking you had once again pushed him into a tree and knocked him out.

“Sorry.”

You quickly found your horse and continued on. Your mind continued to go back to the prince, he was pretty good looking.

The next time you saw him, he was being chased by your sister’s guards.

You watched as the guards pushed him into a corner trapping him. He was outnumbered.

Before any of the guards could capture or finish him off you waved your hands and where the guards had been were just rats. You teleported in front of the prince and only then did you notice he had been injured.

“You’re hurt. Let me help.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Why? What do you want with me?”

“Nothing. I just want to help.”

He didn’t try and leave when you slowly approached him. You started to heal his wounds with your magic.

“The last time I saw you, you said something about warning Snow White. Why? Isn’t your sister actively hunting her?”

“I’m not my sister you know?”

“That’s obvious. I’m David.”

“(Y/N).”

That’s how the two of you really started your friendship.

After that you had met a couple of other times and even found Snow White. Things were looking up. They were going to take back David’s kingdom.

“You should come with us. I want you by my side through this.”

“I wish I could. But I need to go back and make sure my sister doesn’t interfere. I know you can do this without me. You’ll be a great king.”

You watched as David and Snow left before returning to the castle.

Sadly your sister found out about your little adventures.

“So when was I supposed to find out my own brother is a traitor?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean-”

She pulled held up her mirror which shimmered and showed you with David. You instantly felt cold.

“Why is my brother travelling around with the prince? Especially looking for Snow White? I see the way you look at him, it’s the same way I looked at-.”

You knew who she was talking about.

“And what about it? You can’t stop me.”

“I can and I will.”

Before you knew it you were locked up in a prison cell, away from the sun.

You heard news of the outside world from the guards.

David had retaken his kingdom and married Snow. That was strange to you, it didn’t seem like they were that close.

Then you heard about their wedding and how your sister showed up and warned of a curse. You weren’t about to let that happen.

You focused on your magic, it was difficult as the prison you had been placed it suppressed it.

Finally you were able to teleport yourself out of the castle and in front of David’s castle.

It wasn’t a surprise that you found yourself in chains again. You were the evil queen’s brother after all.

You were locked in another cell for hours before the man himself stood before you.

“(Y/N).”

“Your majesty.” You gave an exaggerated bow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard about the curse. I came to see if I could help.”

That’s how you found yourself at a council meeting. It was easy to tell no one else minus David and Snow wanted you there.

David had told you about how he and Snow had married for political reasons. That made sense. Then he told you about how Snow was pregnant with his baby. That made less sense.

“When did that happen?”

“Remember when we first met? It wasn’t long after that.”

“I thought you hated each other then?”

“It's- a complicated story.”

“That just leaves me with more questions.”

Before any questions could be answered the bells went off. The curse had arrived. If that wasn’t enough Regina and her soldiers attacked and Snow went into labor.

“Well shit.”

You were with David as he took Emma to the wardrobe, if anyone could save you it was the saviour.

You heard soldiers following close behind. You stopped and prepared to face them.

“(Y/N)!”

“David go! I’ll hold them off.”

“No we can-”

“Go. I love you.”

You could see there were tears building up in his eyes. “I-”

The voices of the soldiers cut him off. They were getting closer.

“Go!”

You watched as he left and turned back to the soldiers. If this was where you were gonna die so be it.

Then darkness.

…

The alarm went off prompting you to wake up.

You slowly got out of bed not really ready for the day.

You did lot’s of volunteer work and today you were helping out at the local hospital.

You stopped over at granny’s first, you couldn’t focus on anything until you had something to eat.

As you entered Ruby gave you a bright smile. She always knew how to light up a room.

“Morning (Y/N), the usual?”

“Yes please.”

“So where you off to today? The homeless shelter, The animal shelter?”

“The hospital. I’m going to help pass out lunches to them and bring some flowers. If they’re going to be there, they might as well get some sort of happiness.”

“Of course you are. You always do like to make sure people are happy.”

When your food came you ate and talked with Ruby some more. Of course you talked with Granny too, they always treated you right.

When you made it to the hospital you started your rounds. You went around to each room and dropped off lunches to those that needed them while dropping off flowers to the ones that didn’t get lunches.

When you made it to one of the final rooms you were surprised to see Mary Margret leave.

“Oh hey Mary Margaret. Are you visiting someone?”

She smiled at you. “Oh no. I was just dropping off some flowers to make the stay a little more bearable. What about you?”

You held up the flowers in your hand. “The same. I like to volunteer here when I can.”

“That’s very chivalrous of you. I better go, schools starting soon and I need to make sure I’m there. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Miss M.”

“How many times have I said not to call me that.”

“Well if the kids get to call you it why can’t I?”

Entering the room you weren’t surprised to see the man still in a coma. He had been like this ever since you started volunteering here.

Unlike anyone else in the hospital, you felt connected with this man. Like he was familiar somehow. It was difficult to know, he had no name and didn’t have any sort of family.

You place your flowers next to Mary Margarets. Before pulling out a book.

“So, Where were we?’

The book you read him was one about a knight saving a prince from a witch. The story also felt strangely familiar to you.

After your trip to the hospital you were walking home when Ruby ran up to you.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Your nephew ran away to New York last night. He came back with some woman. Look.”

You looked to where she was pointing. You saw Henry walking with some blonde haired woman. It was strange. She was a stranger, yet she also felt familiar.

“Huh. I better go talk to him. His mom must have been pissed.”

“That’s putting it lightly. See ya (Y/N).”

You walked towards Henry. Once he saw you he lit up and hugged you.

“Uncle (Y/N)! I want you to meet someone.”

He pulled you towards the woman.

“Hi I’m Emma.” She extended her hand.

You took it, giving a smile. “Hi I’m (Y/N), Henry’s uncle.”

“She’s my mom.”

That was a surprise. To both you and Emma.

“What? I mean I know Regina adopted you but-”

“Yeah It surprised me too. He just showed up last night.”

“Speaking of. You shouldn’t have left without telling anyone and having someone go with you. You could have gotten seriously hurt or worse!”

Henry looked down. It was rare if you ever got mad at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just next time take me with you.”

With that he was back to his cheery self. Then his phone went off in his pocket. “Uh oh it’s mom.”

“You better go. If you don’t she’ll come after me and I don’t want to deal with it.”

“Fine. I’ll see you later at Granny’s.” He said the last part to Emma.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You watched as Henry ran off towards Regina’s.

“It was nice to meet you Emma, but I’m afraid I have to run home. I’ll see you around?”

“I guess so.”

The two of you parted ways. It was strange. Why did she feel familiar? Why did the man in the hospital feel familiar? Why did Henry look at you a bit differently? Something was going on and you didn’t know what. You just knew Storybrooke was about to get a lot of drama.

#once upon a time #once upon a time imagines #once upon a time imagine #ouat imagine #ouat imagines #ouat x male reader #ouat x male!reader #david nolan x male reader #david nolan x male!reader #david nolan x reader #prince charming x male reader #prince charming x male!reader #david nolan imagines #david nolan imagine #x male reader #x male!reader

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

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The Days We Defend (Will Turn to Gold)- Chapter 9/10

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Previous Chapters

Read on Ao3

A/N: Surprise, it’s early! One chapter to go after this one!!! Let me know what you think... It’s a doozy.

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for being an amazing beta!

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

They wait outside of the vault for what feels like hours. Realistically, it couldn’t be more than thirty seconds before someone speaks up, but the tension is palpable to everyone present, thick enough to slice with the dagger they just entrusted in the hands of Baelfire.

“So, how is this supposed to work?” Emma asks the Apprentice, breaking the silence in what Killian can sense is overwhelming nerves.

“You, as the Savior, are the proprietor of the most powerful Light Magic. As the person who removed your potential for darkness, I am the possessor of the counter to your lightness. Combining our powers will charge the hat enough to absorb the Darkness.” His answer is casual, as if it should be obvious to them all.

She’s pacing nervously, rolling her eyes at his mention of the removal of her potential for darkness. Killian almost wonders what may have happened if she had taken the darkness all those weeks ago based on the removal of such, but shoves those thoughts from his head. “It’s all a bit ridiculous, if you ask me,” she says.

“I’m sure it seems that way, but you must believe in your ability to wield your magic, Savior.”

“He’s right, mom,” Henry adds. “If anyone can get my other mom back, it’s you.”

She shoots her son a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she rings her hands together, holding them close to her just below her ribs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid,” she murmurs.

Killian sighs, realizing once more that the more time that passes, the greater opportunity Bae has to cheat them all. Before he can voice his opinion, though, Robin speaks up. “Should we go in and check now? It’s been a few moments.”

“Yeah,” Emma breathes out. “He’s had more than enough time to subdue her.”

Once they’re inside, Emma pushing the tomb away from the vault’s entrance effortlessly with her magic, they creep down the dark stairs and into the halls of Regina’s safe haven. It’s dank and smells of mildew, and he wonders why she wouldn’t use her Dark Magic to polish the place up a bit.

“Savior,” the Apprentice says, “we’re close enough; we can pause here to charge the hat.”

Emma nods, taking a deep breath and hugging herself around her middle, crossing her arms stiffly in her stress. “Okay,” she says with her voice low.

The Apprentice’s explanation of what she needs to do seems somewhat complicated, but despite her inexperience with her magic, Emma seems to understand perfectly. The two of them stand across from one another with the hat sitting between them and he waves his hands over it until it begins to move. As he works, Emma glances up at Henry and Killian, giving them an encouraging but not quite believable smile.

Before they know it, the cylindrical lockbox housing the hat is jumping in place until the hat itself appears. The Apprentice continues to explain what she should do, and she concentrates harder than he’s ever seen her; the look of determination on her face gives him hope that this will work. Her resolve and conviction makes it impossible for him not to believe in her. The bright look of surprise across her features once the two of them stop using their magic tells him that it must have worked, and the hat glowing in anticipation of its use.

“You did it!” Henry exclaims, rushing to her and wrapping her in a hug which she returns easily. “I knew you could.”

Killian releases a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, stepping towards her and taking her hand once she’s released from Henry’s grasp. She goes to him happily, a triumphant smile across her face as she lets go of his hand in favor of pulling him into a tight hug.

“Job well done, Swan,” he says into her hair. “We never doubted you for a second.”

She pulls from him and giggles softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and then stepping away, a silent agreement made among all of them that they must continue on. Once they’re far enough into the vault, sneaking quietly along the stone floor, they hear the quiet conversation going on between Regina and Bae.

“I saw what he said this morning,” the Dark One says confidently. “I used mirror magic and was able to see exactly what my son thinks of you these days. It shouldn’t be hard to convince him that I’m doing the right thing here.”

“You’re insane,” Bae responds, groaning in pain suddenly.

“No, I’m motivated. There’s a difference. Your little plan didn’t work like I’d hoped, so I suppose I’ll have to go with my backup plan.”

He’s breathing heavily as he says, “and what, you think killing me is the best way to go about getting what you want?”

Killian sees Emma tensing as she picks up her pace, tucking herself behind a corner close to where Regina and Bae have met. She glances back at everyone else nervously as the conversation continues.

“I finally found the spell I need to remove the darkness. I only need one more special ingredient.”

“Wait!” Emma shouts forcefully, as if she didn’t think before revealing herself in a desperate attempt to stop Regina in her tracks. “Regina, whatever you’re doing, just wait.”

“Savior,” she says venomously. “I was wondering when you were going to show yourself.”

It’s clear that she knew that Emma was here all along, but whether she’s aware of the presence of the other five people standing in her vault, he can’t be sure.

Emma steps around the corner fully, making herself seen and holding her hands up placatingly . “We have a plan, Regina. If you want to remove the darkness, we can help you with that.”

“Right. I’m sure the princess of Light Magic is going to help the Dark One. Step away, Miss Swan, and let me finish what I’ve started.”

“How long have you had his heart?” Emma asks, and Killian desperately wishes that he could see the scene playing out behind this wall.

Regina laughs lightly, ominously, and says, “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. Meanwhile, how quickly did you realize that he had the pirate’s? I suppose that goes to show how she truly feels about you,” she says, and he can only assume she’s speaking to Bae now.

“Please just put it down,” Emma begs. Killian has to assume that she got the dagger away from Bae somehow because she evidently has his heart and can control him, likely coercing him into giving it to her. Otherwise, he’s certain that they would have commanded her to stop as they had planned.

He sees Henry starting to stir, so he holds up a hand and shoots him a glare that says don’t even think about it. The last thing they need is for Henry to put himself in harm's way. The lad leans back against the wall silently.

“Give me the hat and maybe I will,” she negotiates.

“Regina, please just trust us. We want to help you, and we have a plan. A good plan! We can help you get the darkness out without hurting anyone.”

Regina scoffs, her laughter reminding Killian of the person she was back in the Enchanted Forest years ago. “Who, you? You and the old man are going to help me? You think you're more powerful than I am?”

“I never said that!” Emma tries despondently. Then, Killian hears the unmistakable sound of magic being wielded followed by Emma’s desperate shout: “no!”

As he rounds the corner, all semblance of logical thought evacuating his mind quickly, he hears Baelfire cry out in pain and sees him collapse to the floor of the vault. Emma falls to her knees beside him, sobs wracking her as she hysterically shakes his motionless form. When Killian’s eyes finally find Regina, he sees her holding her closed fist above the glowing hat that she must’ve conjured away from Emma, the last remnants of dust sprinkling out of her hold as the hat’s brilliance strengthens. He sees a manic smile splitting the Dark One’s face as he rushes to Emma’s side in a useless attempt to comfort her.

He has no idea where anyone else is. He thinks he hears Robin shout, but it isn’t clear over the sound of Emma’s keening. He runs his hand along her spine when he reaches her and she spins, releasing Bae and throwing herself into Killian’s chest forcefully. Her tears dampen the skin of his neck. Her cries deafen him to the ruckus surrounding them. He almost doesn’t notice Henry boldly rushing towards the Dark One in violent haste.

“What have you done?!” he screams, and both Killian and Emma snap apart and turn towards the lad just in time to watch him thrust the dagger towards Regina’s throat.

“Henry,” the Dark One says against the blade, her eyes bulging as they meet his own. “Put the dagger down.”

Killian recognized the look on the lad’s face just before he leapt for her: it’s the same one he himself wore just before he killed his own father.

“Tell me why you did this,” he demands, his voice wrought with emotion.

Regina, unable to defy the laws of the dagger, answers, “he had no idea how to be a father to you.”

“Now he’ll never have the chance to learn!” he screams, pressing the blade until a trail of crimson paints her flesh.

“You deserve better than him,” she insists assuredly, though her head is held high in avoidance of the weapon.

“I deserve better than you!”

“Let me remove the Darkness. Then this will all be over! We can be together again!” she begs against the scalloped edge.

Killian stands slowly, pulling Emma along behind him, and they move closer to Henry as carefully as they can. “We had a plan to remove it that didn’t involve murder!”

“Henry,” Emma tries timidly. “Kid, please put the dagger down.”

“She killed my dad,” he reasons, not turning his gaze from Regina. “She has to pay.”

“If you do this, the only person who will pay is you.” Emma's voice is eerily calm now, as if something has switched in her and her motherhood instincts have taken over to give her what she needs to talk her son through the crisis he’s battling.

“I can’t let her get away with this!” he shouts. “She killed him right in front of me!”

“Kid,” she says, stepping away from Killian and towards the lad to put a careful hand on his shoulder. “We will make sure that she’s held accountable for this. Let me take the Darkness out of her and we’ll put her where she belongs.”

“She doesn’t deserve to live.”

“This isn’t you, Henry. You’re a good kid, you know right from wrong. You know what happens to you if you go through with this.”

“Lad,” Killian says, surprising himself. “Don’t let your mother see you become the Dark One.”

His shoulders relax. His arm loosens, the dagger falling from Regina’s flesh and dragging a bit of blood along with it. She lets out the breath she was holding in suspense and collapses slightly against the table behind her.

Emma turns towards the Apprentice and flatly says, “please take care of this now,” before Henry turns, drops the dagger to the ground, and throws himself into his mother’s arms.

Regina reaches for the dagger but Killian grabs it first. “Take him outside, love,” he instructs Emma.

Once they’re gone, the Queen sneers at him angrily as the Apprentice prepares for the spell to remove the Darkness and store it in the hat. “I almost had you,” she says, smirking.

He can’t help but to roll his eyes. “You never had me. How long have you had his heart?”

“Oh,” she says casually, “it wasn’t until after the curse broke. Don’t worry, that was all him.”

“So you knew we would try to disarm you with the dagger, then?” David asks.

“Of course. I figured the curse would break eventually, and when it did I had to be ready. Oh, congratulations, by the way.” She turns back towards Killian. “I must admit, you and the Savior breaking the curse was a fun surprise.

He rolls his eyes again, desperate to not engage her in further conversation. “Do you want us to remove the Darkness or not?”

“Yes, and then I’d like to see my son.”

He laughs. “I can assure you that is not happening.”

“Why, because I took care of a problem for him? We all know Neal wasn’t cut out to be a father. I mean, look at what he did. This was all based on his plan.”

“Take a look at what you did,” Killian spits, gesturing towards Bae’s crumpled, lifeless body, trying not to think about the young boy he used to know.

“It would be a miracle if Henry ever speaks to you again. You’ve just murdered his father in front of him,” David adds.

“Tell me, how is that any different from what you did all those years ago, Captain?”

He snaps his head towards her too quickly, fearing Emma’s father learning more about his sordid. “We agreed not to speak of that.”

She chuckles darkly. “You murdered your own father with his son in the next room. How are you any better than me?”

He hardly thinks before taking the dagger and pressing it to her throat, pushing her against the table and overpowering her easily. “Listen,” he commands, fully aware that she has no choice. “I made a mistake; I’ve made many. And since then, I’ve made amends. I feel regret over the things that I’ve done and the harm that I’ve caused. You just murdered your son’s father right in front of him and show no remorse. Don’t begin to compare us because we are nothing alike.”

He releases her once the Apprentice speaks, informing them that he’s ready as long as they are. “You have to want to have the Darkness removed, Dark One.”

“I do,” she insists. “Just do it already.”

He takes the dagger and waves it ceremoniously, reciting a spell that honestly sounds a bit ridiculous before waves of black are drawn from her chest, right where her heart would be if he believed she had one. The scene playing out before him reminds him of the violent onyx whizzing through the air mere weeks ago when she became the Dark One.

The Apprentice is shaking with exhaustion as he continues to chant, holding the dagger in his hands above her heart until all of the black ribbons have flown into the hat. Once the room fades to silence, he falls to the ground, Regina collapsing just after him.

The room is silent for far too long. No one moves. No one speaks. No one knows what to do.

“What now?” Robin asks, his voice flat and his expression blank as he stares at Regina’s still face.

“We’ll have to remove them and… and the body,” Killian chokes out. “Are they alive?”

“Both are. The Apprentice doesn’t look so good, though,” David answers. “Would be a lot easier if we could magic them out of here.”

“I’m not letting Emma come back down here!” Killian snaps, turning to sneer at her father.

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” he starts and though he looks as though he could say more, he stays quiet. “Why don’t you go up and check on them.”

“We've got to get—”

“Go,” he insists. “Robin and I will make sure Regina gets to where she needs to be, and we’ll take the Apprentice to the hospital.”

“What about him?” he gestures towards Bae’s stiff frame.

David sighs. “We’ll figure that out. Right now… your family needs you. Make sure Henry’s out of here. He doesn’t have to see anything else today. ”

His words weigh heavily in the space between them, the air feeling thicker suddenly as he admits his acceptance of Killian’s presence in his daughter and grandson’s lives. “Aye mate,” he breathes in response, taking one last look at the state of the room and turning towards the exit.

When he gets outside, the sun is nearly setting and the humid summer air leaves him feeling hot and sticky in his leather jacket. He finds Emma and Henry a few meters away from the stone structure, Emma sitting on the ground and her son’s head resting in her lap. His stomach twists in knots at the sight of them. The lad has been through enough already without having to be involved in what he’s just witnessed.

When she hears him coming, Emma looks up through tears, her brows pinching together as she appears to hold in more tears. She runs her fingers through Henry’s hair soothingly, but it’s clear that he’s difficult to console. He has every right to be.

Killian sits beside her, as close as he can get, and she somehow presses closer and rests her head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her so that he can run his hand along her arm. “Robin and your father are working on… cleaning up.”

“It’s done?” she asks through silent tears.

“Aye,” he just about whispers. “It appears to have worked.”

“Where is she?” he hears Henry mumble from his mother’s lap.

“Passed out, lad. To be transported to the hospital.” He nods in response, otherwise staying still. “We should go now. Pick up the baby and head home.”

Emma sighs, her breath stuttering, then says, “you’re right. Let’s get you home, kid.”

Henry’s silent and stoic as he stands from his mother’s hold and brushes off his thighs. He’s turning towards the car before Killian and Emma can even stand.

~~~~

Corrine, as emotionally intelligent as she is, keeps asking everyone what’s wrong. Emma tries making grilled cheese for dinner, hoping her favorite comfort food will entice Henry, but he stays on the couch and doesn’t say a word. She hardly touches her own, neither does Killian, and Corrine wonders aloud why everyone is so sad.

“We’re okay, baby,” Emma tells her softly, running her curled finger down her cheek and giving her a soft smile. “Don’t you worry.”

“Momma, Henny’s okay?” she asks through a mouth full of grilled cheese.

“He…” she starts, glancing over to Killian briefly. They’ve talked in the past about how they don’t wish to lie to her despite her young age, but this is too much for her to understand. “He’ll be okay, Coco. He just needs some time.”

She nods as if Emma’s words make complete sense to her and takes a giant swig of the chocolate milk she shouldn’t be drinking.

“What did you do with Mimi and Ollie today, love?” Killian asks her, trying to maintain an air of positivity for her.

“I play,” she answers. “I dance.”

“Did Ollie enjoy dancing with you?”

“No.”

Emma snorts softly, a genuine smile gracing her features in response to their humorous child. “No? He doesn’t like One Direction?”

She begins to pout, shooting him eyes filled with such pathetic sadness that it pulls at his heartstrings. “No, Baby Shark.”

“Ugh,” Emma says. “No Baby Shark in this house. We’ll stick to one direction, right Coco?”

“Mom,” they hear from the entrance of the kitchen, and each of them turn towards the source of the voice.

“Hey kid, hungry?”

“No thanks,” he says softly, his voice somber but slightly less angry than before. “I was hoping you could take me to… to my mom’s house. I have some stuff there that I want to move over here.”

She pauses and then turns to face him entirely. “Of course, Henry. Whenever you're ready.”

Killian and Corrine spend the evening together while Emma takes Henry to Regina’s. They were apart for nearly a month, aside from the few hours he could see her per day, so he’s happy to have the opportunity to reconnect with her. Her favorite activity to promote such reconnection is dancing.

Her favorite band has a variety of upbeat songs that he can easily hop around to, picking her up and bouncing her on his hip as she laughs and shrieks. At a certain point, she ends up in only her shirt and diaper, her hair having fallen out of the tiny updo it was in and landing in a wild mane around her face as she holds her fists in front of her and jumping to the beat of the song that plays loudly over the stereo.

“Hi momma!” she screams when Emma walks through the door, running for her at full speed and crashing into her legs.

“Hi!” Emma responds excitedly, the grin across her face as she picks her up squeezing at his heart. Henry walks in behind her with a box of items, smiling softly at Corrine and heading towards the stairs.

“Turning in, lad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, pausing briefly and sighing. “I’m just… I just wanna go to bed.”

“Aye. Well…” he starts, but is unsure of how to continue. He feels as if he should say something, but isn’t sure what he needs in this moment.

“We’ll be here, kid,” Emma supplies, simple and encouraging as he nods and heads up the stairs.

“Momma hugs Duddy now,” Corrine says, pointing towards Killian while still in Emma’s arms.

She laughs lightly, tickling Corrine’s bare thigh and asking, “oh, she does, does she?”

“Yes. No kiss,” she insists.

“I can’t kiss your mummy?”

“No!”

He wraps the two of them in a tight squeeze, sandwiching Corrine between her parents and sneaking in a quick kiss against Emma’s temple.

She turns to him and gives an indignant look, saying, “Coco said no kissing!”

“No, Duddy! No kisses for Momma, only for Coco.”

“My mistake.” He kisses her plump cheek and is rewarded in kind with a bright giggle. “Time for bed now, lass. I think we’ve done enough dancing for one lifetime.”

“We dance, momma.”

“Aye, we danced, momma. Next we’ll be learning a waltz.”

“Walls.”

Emma laughs, hiking the child up higher on her hip as she tries hard to settle her hair, though seemingly finding it impossible. “You know how to waltz?”

“First rule of dancing,” he says, taking her free hand and leading her towards the stairs once the music is shut off, “pick a partner who knows what they're doing.”

She gives him a look that he can’t quite read before leading him up the stairs and providing him with a lovely view of her ass along the way.

~~~~

Her thighs squeeze his hips tightly as she bounces above him, her breasts suspended tantalizingly over him as her nails dig into his shoulders. Her quiet pants and whispered moans drive him to harden his grip on her hip, sitting up slightly and using his blunt wrist to press into her back and pull her closer to him. She wraps her arms under his, hugging herself tightly to him and letting out a cry into his ear as he bends his knees up to deepen his thrusts into her.

“Don’t stop,” she practically begs, clinging to him as if her life depends on it. “Fuck.”

“So good, love,” he agrees as the coil in the base of his stomach tightens, almost ready to snap. “Gods, you feel so perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I love you,” she says through a strangled cry as she clenches around him and finally lets go; finally gives him permission to do the same.

He holds her so tightly that he doesn’t think she can breathe, but she doesn’t complain. Panting into his ear, her nails still digging crescents into his back, she hugs him close.

“I love you too,” he says once they’ve both caught their breath. She hums in contentment and kisses his neck before lifting herself from him and letting out a soft grunt as he slips out of her.

She spends a moment in the bathroom before returning, learning from last time and tossing his sleeping pants at him before dressing herself and crawling in. “You alright, love?” he asks, to which she shrugs.

“Where did Regina end up?”

“The asylum. We were able to use the cuff that blocks her magic before she awoke.”

She stays silent for a few moments, continuing her ministrations through the hair on his chest as if it’s soothing her.

“Today sucked,” she finally says.

“Aye, it did. I’m sorry.”

She sighs, tucking herself closer to him and resting her head on his chest. “Not your fault.”

“I’m not saying it is; I’m saying I’m sorry that you lost someone important to you.”

Squeezing her arm over his chest a bit tighter, she nuzzles her nose into a patch of the hair on his chest. “Yeah… you’re not mad, are you? About… I mean, I know my reaction was a little—”

“Emma,” he interrupts, “I could never be angry with you for something like that. No matter what happened, Bae was someone important to you.”

She sniffles a bit, moving to wipe a tear from her cheek before saying, “it feels weird. I can’t believe he’s gone.” He hums in agreement as he runs his hand up and down along her spine, occasionally combing gently through her hair. “After all the shit he put us through, I’ll admit that there was a time that—” she chokes on her own words, needing to take a deep breath before continuing. “Sometimes I wished he would just go away and not come back. But I didn’t want… I didn’t want Henry to lose his dad.”

“I know what you mean, Swan.” He rolls them gently so they’re facing one another, her leg tucked between his knees. He runs his fingers through her hair and down her cheek as he says, “it’s alright to be confused by this. Despite all that he did, he still loved you, in his own way. And he loved your son. He just had a horrible way of showing it.”

She nods against his forehead, her nose rubbing against his own making him unable to resist kissing her softly. “I know you’re right.”

“Did the lad say much earlier?”

She shrugs. “Not really. All he said was that he’s okay but he wants to live with us. I think he needs time.” He nods in understanding as she continues. “What he saw today— what he saw his own mother do… I don’t know how to help him live with that.”

“You're his mother, Emma, and I know you know what’s best for him. We’ll be here for him, however he needs us.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

“Perhaps a few visits with the Cricket would be prudent as well.”

“Probably.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, the skin cold against his lips, and says, “sleep, darling. We can deal with everything tomorrow.”

“Love you,” she says as she drifts off. He follows closely behind, sleeping soundly with her in his arms.

~~~~

#The Days We Defend #days we defend ff #walk with me #sequel #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #cs ff au #ouat ff au

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

Text

Like My Mirror Years Ago

Hey, hi there, that gif doesn’t really have anything to do with the story! So, a couple days ago @shireness-says sent me this post and was like, “You know what you should do? Write some domestic Enchanted Forest with Killian unlacing Emma’s dress.” And I was like, “Yes, this seems like a good idea.” Only then, I didn’t write it. As I am apt to do. Instead here is some season 5A Camelot divergence set at some point between 5x02 and 5x04 with a conversation I have wanted to write forever, but didn’t originally plan on writing until I started typing it yesterday. And we do get to the unlacing, but first: angst in the form of nearly 5.3K.

Also, it should be known that the Google doc title of this was [Insert Hozier Lyrics Here] so if you’re looking for a soundtrack.

————

She knows the exact moment.

As soon as his breathing shifts ever so slightly, a hint quicker than it is when he’s actually asleep and, if nothing else, Emma supposes his inherent inability to lie is something of a victory. To her. Specifically. Or them. Collectively. Or that pesky future that feels as if it’s begun to drape itself across her shoulders.

That might explain the near-constant ache between her shoulder blades.

She resolutely refuses to accept any other reasons.

“You suck at that, you know,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes away from the piece of curved wood in her hands. Killian scoffs, and she doesn’t have to turn to know when he props himself up on his elbows either.

The creaking mattress helps.

Everything creaks a little in Camelot, another metaphor Emma isn’t particularly inclined to spend too long thinking about, but she’s got the growing suspicion that most of this kingdom is prone to making noise. As if it’s shattering right in front of her, tiny cracks that she’s not able to prevent, but that also might just be a commentary on her sanity at this point and—

She’s holding her breath.

Letting it out in a huff she tries very hard to make quiet, Emma knows she fails. Spectacularly. Another sweeping commentary.

“Unparalleled observational skills,” Killian says. With a smile. Smirk, probably. Emma still doesn’t bother looking, can hear the inflection in his voice and already knows how forced the even tone is. Seeing the inevitable arch of his eyebrow will only make it worse.

“Get me in a crow’s nest or something.” “What do you know about crow’s nests?” She shrugs, fingers still moving and the buzzing under her skin hasn’t ebbed much since she started, but there was something almost oddly peaceful about the pattern of Killian’s breathing when he was asleep.

In and out. Over and over. Simple and easy and consistent. Steady, even. Something about the tides or another nautical joke Emma isn’t willing to make.

The mattress creaks again.

As do the floorboards.

And she doesn’t shudder when his hand lands on her shoulder. She doesn’t stop this twisted arts and crafts project, either. She leans back, though — another passing victory and momentary return to normal, relishing the solid feel of his chest behind her.

Killian takes a deep breath.

“How long have I been asleep?” “Not long,” Emma replies, and one of the muscles in her neck isn’t all that appreciative of the current twist it’s in. She doesn’t move, feels as if it’d be admitting to something far bigger and she can’t imagine how he’s still so warm.

Like magic.

Not at all like magic. At least not the kind she’s used to now.

“Awfully vague,” he mutters. Accusation doesn’t particularly hang from the letters, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see it in the way Killian’s fingers tighten ever so slightly, like he’s trying to hold onto more than just her and her tension-filled shoulder blades, and he’d never unbuckled his sword.

Or taken his hook off.

He always took his hook off. Before. When they were—

Safe, Emma supposes. Emma supposes they aren’t that anymore.

“There was no point in you staying up just so you could stare at me with those sad puppy dog eyes and all of that palpable concern.” His fingers loosen. For the best, probably. Since it appears the laces of Emma’s latest Camelot-provided gown, which she hasn’t bothered taking off, are tightening. Enough to threaten several of her internal organs.

Laughter echoes softly around them.

Her.

Only her.

Reaching for another string that she’s only a little worried she’ll snap before she can use, Emma barely moves her arm before there’s metal around her wrist, and anger runs red-hot down her spine. She snaps her head around quickly enough to do damage to several other neck muscles, but Killian hardly flinches at her expression.

He lifts both eyebrows, instead.

So, there’s something to be said for a change of pace.

“We’ve a variety of things we can talk about,” Killian says, more forced lightness that grates on every one of Emma’s nerves, “Although I’ll admit I’m always partial to discussing the fascinating colloquialisms you’re in possession of.” “Can I possess the language?” “The knowledge of it’s—what’s the word? Slang?” Emma rolls her eyes. “That, at least.” “Oh, yeah, I'm the smartest person around.” “In this realm, certainly.”

Emma snorts, not any real humor in the sound, but her lungs work a hint better once Killian pulls his hook away from her. Licking her lips, she spins and neither one of them mention how close she comes to kicking him in a variety of potentially painful locations when she tugs her legs towards her chest.

His lips twitch as soon as she rests her chin on her knees.

There’s an absurd amount of fabric involved in this dress.

“What do a dog’s eyes have to do with the overall force of my worry?” Killian asks, and it’s not exactly funny. Just like whatever noise Emma makes isn’t exactly a laugh. Not when it scratches at the sides of her throat, and the tip of her tongue and honestly screw Camelot.

No ChapStick in other realms.

She keeps twisting her lower lip between her teeth.

“You shouldn't have let me fall asleep.” Her current eye roll rate is going to give Emma a migraine. Maybe Dark Ones can’t get migraines. That’d be something at least. “There really wasn’t any reason for you to be awake,” Emma says. “And I—” Killian tilts his head when she cuts herself off, something stupid like open book and knowing her and they might both be horrible liars. “I know you’re worried.” “Seems a given in this situation, don’t you think?” Another shrug. No eye roll, though. Small victories and whatnot.

And Killian has to readjust his sword to crouch in front of her. Emma very nearly laughs again. Or cries. She’s having trouble distinguishing emotions at this point.

God, but she’s exhausted.

Metal finds her wrist again, cool on her skin, but Emma’s mind barely has a chance to recognize temperature before she’s wholly preoccupied with Killian’s ability to cover both her hands with one of his. It opens up some fairly romantic ideas, all of them fluttering around her skull and under that same magic-prone skin, a slightly different energy that makes her feel light and heavy and—

Her neck gives up.

Leaves her head falling forward and crashing against Killian’s and he still doesn’t flinch. Even as he exhales again, air brushing Emma’s cheeks and the edges of her lips and she could come up with several better ways to use those lips. Something stops her.

Quite possibly the laughter.

That only she can hear.

“You’ll give yourself a coronary.” “Sounds unpleasant.” Emma doesn’t smile. Quite honestly, she’s not sure the muscles in her face are capable of doing that anymore. Still, something in the center of her flutters traitorously at what might be the most twisted instance of flirting they’ve had in their relationship.

Although there was that sword fight. And handcuffing him to the hospital bed. And him unlocking himself from the hospital bed. The Jello thing, too.

Emma figures that all counts as pre-relationship.

“I can’t imagine it would be,” she agrees. “But, uh—” “—Oh, if you say what I think you’re about to say, I will be very frustrated.”

It’s her turn to lift her eyebrows. “Will you just?” “I understand why Regina asked you to do what she did,” Killian starts, and it’s not the last thing Emma expects to hear, but it’s at least somewhere at the bottom of a list she hasn’t made yet. “And I understand even better why you did it. I also—” “—God, how much is there?” He nips at her nose, more out of place flirting that soothes some of...her, really. “This is it, I promise. I understand what it would be to feel that sort of desperation for someone you love. To be terrified of what will happen if you don’t act. Don’t do whatever you can. To fix all of it.”

Her throat collapses.

Her lungs disappear.

And there’s no more disembodied laughter, but the silence that stretches in the minimal space between them is almost worse, thick with unspoken meaning and heavy-handed allusions and Emma’s fingers are moving again. Before she’s entirely rationalized it. Brushing away strands of hair that’s almost getting too long, Killian’s eyes flutter closed at her touch.

“That’s not your job,” Emma whispers.

“Isn’t it, though?” “Falling asleep is not a failure, babe.” He scoffs, a quick click of his teeth and Emma hasn’t moved her fingers. He leans into her hand. “And yet here we are. At an impasse, of sorts.” “I thought we were having a conversation.”

“Not a very focused one.” “Ah, well you’re tired.” “And you’re a very good distraction,” Killian argues, not the insult Emma briefly hears it as. Even so, something almost like fear ripples across her skin. Latches onto the base of her skull and whatever neurons are clearly unstable and irrational and it only takes him a few moments to realize his mistake.

“I know that’s not what you meant.” He hums, nosing at the inside of her wrist. “What are these things you’re making, exactly?” “Dreamcatchers.” “Sounds nefarious.” “No, no, the opposite, actually. Legend said—well, God, it’s kind of shitty that I’m making them, actually. But, um...they’re supposed to keep nightmares away.” “Is it working?” “I’m not the one asleep,” Emma points out. “And repeating my question seems redundant.” Sticking her tongue out is quite possibly the least mature thing Emma could possibly do — particularly when she’s at least seventy-two percent positive the churning in her stomach is actually magic, but she does it all the same. If only to ensure that Killian’s lips move again.

She might be staring at his lips.

Might be is another very bad lie.

“Now you’re just trying to make me swoon with your own knowledge of the language,” she mumbles. “How’s it working?” “Better than it should.”

His lips move. Directly towards hers. Only to deviate at the last possible second, and Emma isn’t totally disappointed by that. Killian kisses the edge of her mouth. The curve of her chin. The bridge of her nose. Directly between her very pinched eyebrows.

“You know, I thought you were dead.” Strictly speaking, Emma has no idea where that particular string of words came from. The depths of her soul, probably. Some dark — or darker — corner where that very specific terror lingers. The way she swore her heart stopped, and breathing was secondary and part of her might resent him.

For making a joke of it.

“That wasn’t a real reality, love,” Killian breathes, and Emma can’t imagine how his knees are dealing with any of this. He’s ancient, he can’t have the best joints. In this realm or any other.

“Still happened, though.” “Aye, it did. And I’d—” “—Nope,” Emma interrupts, lips popping on the word like that will turn it into some kind of decree. Technically, she’s a princess. It should work like that. “I absolutely do not care. At all. Like, at all. I stood there and watched you die and—” Crying is apparently something she’s not capable of doing anymore either, and that’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, but it does leave her blinking faster than she’d like and she’ll have to come up with another colloquialism for the look on Killian’s face.

Abject devotion seems a little over the top.

“This is my fault.” Killian blinks. More than once. “How the hell did you get to that conclusion?” “You died, babe. I—I stood there and watched, and it was...it was you, but it wasn’t you and it didn’t even matter because it’s always been you and—” She’s rambling. Words spill out of Emma without her explicit permission, which seems kind of unfair all things considered. Nearly absolute power should allow her to be a better conversationalist than this.

The more things change, or whatever the saying is.

“The point is, we found Regina after that. Henry and I and...she wasn’t going to do anything. Was going to let Robin marry Zelena. But I—well, I told her that I’d just—” He doesn’t look away from her. Emma isn’t sure if that’s good or bad, far too much blue in his gaze even as the candles around them burn to the base of their wicks. She licks her lips again. Still chapped. “I told her that love was a part of all happiness. That...that she had to fight for it because I’d just—” “—Watched me die?” “Not as much fun when you interrupt me.” He makes a noise, a low rumble that tickles Emma’s cheek. “Apologies, my lady.” “You think you’re very clever.” “I think you’re the most incredible lass—” “—Oh, call me lass one more time and see how that works out for you.” “It’s a compliment,” Killian mutters, almost entirely into her skin and the few strands of hair that have come loose. “And you’re being rather distracting again.”

“Still waiting on the compliment parts of this, honestly.” He finally stands up, both of his knees cracking in the process. And Emma hardly opens her mouth to make some sort of misplaced joke about that before Killian is shaking his head and tugging her out of her chair and they don’t lay down on Camelot’s noisiest mattress.

They sit on the edge. Thighs pressed together and Emma’s fingers gripping his hook like some kind of lifeline, which it very well may be because they should have talked about this before, but there wasn’t time before and— “I love you.” Full-body shock, Emma finds rather quickly, is not nearly as uncomfortable as she assumed it would be. She’s imagined this going a lot of ways, loathe as she may be to ever admit such a thing. Most of the time they’re tangled in very soft sheets, or tucked into the questionably comfortable cot in the captain’s quarters of the Jolly, his fingers in her hair and that one specific smile that she’s only ever seen directed at her.

Not once has she imagined it like this.

Stuck in a different realm with a king that does not live up to the legend and something about the air in Camelot reminds Emma of Boston Harbor in the summer.

Salty and a little stale.

Her mouth goes dry and her pulse noticeably slows, turning her head to gape at him. That’s not romantic. That’s insane. This whole thing is absolutely and entirely insane and she can’t quite come to terms with the precise way he glances up at her.

From underneath those stupid eyelashes, that are both kind of dreamy and even more offensive and Emma doesn’t object when he pulls both her hands up. So he can kiss the bend of her knuckles. Like some goddamn pirate prince.

That helps a little bit, actually.

“What?” “I love you,” Killian repeats. “In a variety of different realities, it seems.” “No.” “No?” “No,” Emma echoes, resisting the very real urge to jump up and start pacing. Possibly cast a few spells. That’s the crux of her problem, though. So she does the only reasonable thing. Stays frustrating still and yells at her boyfriend.

Who doesn’t seem all that put out by this turn of events.

“Where do you think I should start?” “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Emma admits with a snarl. “I...there is no way that deckhand version—” “—Oh, that’s also a little insulting.” “You’re telling me that you were in love with me in a fake reality?” Killian shrugs. It’s absurd as when Emma did it. “I’d hardly die for anyone, darling.” “Really way too confident in your ability to—” “—Ensure swooning?” “I will kick you,” Emma warns, but the sentiment lacks any real threat and she’d like to hear him say it several times over again. The I love you part, not necessarily guarantees of swooning.

“Please don’t do that.” “I’d have to stand up.” “Aye,” Killian laughs, “that is true. Although we are deviating just a tad now.” “From?” “How much I understand.” “Overblown confidence.” Tangling their fingers together doesn’t do much to help the state of Emma’s shoulders, but Killian’s hand is so warm and he’s so warm and, shoulder notwithstanding, every inch of Emma wants to curl against him and close her eyes and let him proclaim every ridiculous thought that has ever crossed his mind.

Regarding her. Specifically. And them. Collectively.

“An appropriate amount of confidence,” he corrects. “In regards to you, at least. Because it wasn’t the right reality, but...finding you, believing Henry, knowing that you could save all of us, that made sense to me. In a world where not much else did. That’s been the case from the very start, in fact.” She doesn’t reply. Knows she should, should say something else that proclaims a whole variety of things Emma isn’t sure she can follow through on, but her mind has already started to drift, eyes moving back towards the window and the dreamcatchers there and—

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.”

“Happily ever after,” she sighs.

Killian squeezes her fingers. “A work in progress. But the fact remains that I am wholly,” he kisses the back of her palm, “irrevocably,” the side of her wrist, “completely,” her tattoo, “in love with you. And if you are going to believe anything, then I need you to believe that.” “Need?” “With my entire heart, Swan.” “Oh, that was good, actually.” He doesn’t pull away from her hand. Just looks back up at her, and Emma isn’t sure if she’s blushing or simply burning from the inside out, but both options seem feasible at this point. “She was desperate here because I told her she should be,” Emma says, “Regina, I mean.” “That wasn’t your fault. Love has a tendency to—” “—Make you desperate.” “And that wasn’t a question.” Emma makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, more scratches and marks that she knows are far more metaphorical than literal and she should probably say something back. To Killian. About loving him.

Saying it under duress likely doesn’t count.

She meant it, though. And in the alternate reality. And every time she thought it before that.

She’s thought about it quite a bit.

“Suppose it didn’t have to be,” Killian muses, dropping his head to press a kiss against Emma’s neck. No goosebumps, that time. “I’m sorry that you didn’t know before.” “Ah, I kind of did.” “Still. It’s—” Pulling back is also at the bottom of that list Emma hasn’t made, but it isn’t often that she hears him quite so tongue-tied and there’s something oddly endearing about the red at the tips of his ears. “It’s something you should hear, as often as possible.”

“You’re on a roll.” “I’m serious.” “I know,” Emma nods, “and I—you know, for like a solid half second I was totally pissed at you when you showed up in the loft.” “What? Why?” “Making jokes.” To his credit, Killian does look more than a little scandalized. Wide eyes meet Emma’s, and his skin is paler than it was a few seconds before, but that might also have to do with the candles and their inability to burn for an entire night.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I can only tell you I know so many times before it starts getting annoying, I just—I’m not entirely sure what I would have done if it was true. Torn the world apart, probably.” She’s not surprised by the sincerity in her voice. Conviction and another promise that seems to rattle the windows and Emma’s bones in equal measure. Killian’s eyes don’t return to their proper size.

“If you’re not careful, Your Highness,” he says, “I'll be the one swooning soon.” He catches her before she can swat at his chest.

“Idiot.” “Less so now, maybe. But I understand the sentiment. When you were—Gods, it’s entirely unfair to do it like this, isn’t it?”

“This?” He rolls his eyes that time. Emma appreciates the symmetry. “Despite assurances otherwise, I’m not a fool, Swan. I knew you wanted to say something in your parent’s loft and I remembered some of that alternate reality. But then, as always, another disaster. Another problem. Another reason for you to sacrifice yourself. And then words I’d waited to hear for far longer than I’d care to admit, but you were gone and it was—” Killian grits his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and Emma is an idiot. The biggest idiot. Supreme idiot. She should have realized. “Like a nightmare come true,” he breathes. “Staring at the spot where you were, like I could will you back. Like I could tell you how I loved you more than anything else. No matter what else would happen.”

Lunge is not the best word, but at some point Emma lost any previous control she had over the English language and she’s far too busy relishing Killian’s gasp of surprise when her mouth all but slams against his to be worried about anything else.

She tilts her head. Closes her eyes. Forgets to breathe. Emma forces herself into this moment and this feeling, lets it wrap around her and sink under her skin until it times up with the beat of her pulse and—

The magic in her veins shifts. Rushing from the top of her head to the back of her heels, the kind of power that leaves her dizzy and overwhelmed and greedy for more.

Killian’s tongue traces the seam of her lips.

“They don’t want my help.” “With?” Killian asks, not bothering to pull away from her. Emma’s grip on the back of his hair probably doesn’t help much. “Getting Merlin out of the fucking tree.” “Ah.” “Sound more surprised next time. Have they been talking to you about this?” “Not as such, no. It does not appear that I am part of the inner-Camelot circle.” “Is there one?” “Eh,” he grunts. Disentangling their limbs isn’t all that easy, but it does end with Emma flush against Killian’s side and she supposes beggars can’t be magical choosers. “It seems as if your father is rather taken with having another royal in his midst. Can’t have a notorious pirate captain join them on their perilous quest.” “And how exactly does this notorious pirate captain know about such a quest?”

Suggesting that his eyes actually sparkle at her is entirely absurd and inherently fairy tale, and Emma could not begin to care less.

She can’t hear anything but Killian’s answering laugh. “I’m afraid that’s a rather closely guarded secret, my love.” “Oh, that’s absolutely—” Emma nearly bites her tongue in half. Because it’s not a huge change. Might not even be a change at all, but she latches onto it all the same and the ends of Killian’s lips quirk up. She’s got to find something else to stare at. “Is it super selfish to be glad you’re not going on some perilous quest?”

He shakes his head. It makes the ends of his hair shift, threatening to brush over eyebrows that are far too expressive. “Possibly, but I also can’t help to be anything except glad that you aren’t using more of your magic. I suppose we’re on even ground.” “Not the worst ground to be on.” “No,” Killian agrees, and that’s a strange way to do that. “It’s not. Let Her Majesty work out Merlin’s riddle, she’s got Belle doing research. That’s more help than she deserves.” “High praise. Just,” Emma huffs, “I hate sitting here. There’s too much—” “—Magic?” “Sounds shitty like that.” “Sounds understandable like that. And while I understand what Regina asked of you at the ball, using that power is dangerous.” “I know that,” Emma sneers.

Killian still doesn’t flinch. “I’m not suggesting otherwise, all I’m saying is that we are all here to help, Swan. Some more than others.” “You?” It’s another memory. Another moment her mind has conjured up, a string that connects her to the past and the present and his goddamn eyebrows, Killian staring at her with something that feels like longing and even more like—

Dedication, maybe. Love, definitely.

Emma’s not sure she’s ever been looked at like that.

It’s the worst lie she’s told herself yet.

“Me,” Killian says, and there’s no room for doubt between either one of the letters. “How’d you learn to make the dreamcatchers?” “There was no magic involved if that’s what you’re getting at.” “I wasn’t, in fact.” “No?” He shakes his head. Kisses her forehead. “No.”

And Emma doesn’t deflate, so much as she sags against him. Some of the fight leaves her, pleasantly surprised to find that it also doesn’t leave her feeling hollow. Rather like there’s space for something new there, possibility and potential and her fingers curl themselves into the charms hanging over his shirt.

Another metaphorical anchor and cool metal, helping to temper the myriad of emotions twisting between her ribs.

“I didn’t really learn,” she admits, “just kind of remade them from memory and the supplies Guinevere agreed to give me. Should have seen the first one, it looked like garbage.” Chuckling into her hair, Killian’s hand dances across Emma’s back, grazing the laces she’d almost forgotten about. “You think we’ll ever get to go to a ball on our own terms?” “You mean without time travel or Arthur the worthless king involved?” “It’s a good name.”

“You flatter me,” Killian grins, and Emma doesn’t double check that time either. It’s easy to hear. “And I certainly hope so. I have quite a number of thoughts about you and gowns.” “That so? How many thoughts are we talking?” “Vast.” “That’s not very specific. And I don’t know, babe. As nice as the dancing is, getting dressed for balls is kind of overrated. Half a dozen lady’s maids showed up to tie the laces for me and my mom and then they came back to stuff a gazillion pins into my hair.” “Gazillion also sounds rather vast.” Emma’s eye roll gets her yet another smirk, so she figures that’s a fair trade even if there does end up being a migraine involved eventually. “Did you not think about magic’ing the laces loose?” He says it soft enough that Emma can barely hear him — half concern and even more trepidation, crossing a line that hadn’t been there before and shouldn’t remain there now and she shakes her head. “Didn’t even consider it, honestly. Just kinda resigned myself to a crushed spleen, I guess.”

“Sounds painful.”

The metaphors are stupid now. They should go back to declarations and unfounded promises that Emma wants desperately and she’s not entirely prepared for the first tap of Killian’s finger.

Or for him to mutter, “Turn around for me, love.”

She does. Despite the confusion and the flutter of butterfly wings that have suddenly appeared in her stomach, Emma does as instructed. Something — someone — chafes at that, hackles rising and defenses lifting, and her nails dig deep enough into her palm that they leave tiny crescent shaped marks in their wake.

“No need to get anyone else to help,” Killian says, “when I’m perfectly capable.” Emma must nod. Her neck moves, so that must mean she nods. Speaking however, seems impossible at the moment. When her tongue is taking up too much space in her mouth and the butterflies are threatening to surge out of her and it really is easier to breathe when the laces aren’t quite that tight.

Killian makes quick work of it all. At least Emma assumes, still twisted away from him and staring at the mess she’d left on the desk. She’s not sure why there’s a desk in this room.

“Should I be jealous of your talents in this particular area?” He laughs, kissing the side of her neck again. “Part of me finds that very appealing, actually.” “Which part is that?” “The bastard who wouldn’t mind you claiming me entirely as your own.” “Not into that possessive kind of stuff.” “Ah, it wouldn’t be much of a fight,” Killian argues, and Emma’s breath shudders out of her. In a distinctly swoon-like manner. “I think I’d rather willingly surrender.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” “Aye, I suppose I am.” He kisses her again. Emma hopes it helps. “Milah used to—she had these outfits. Full of laces and buckles and there weren’t any lady’s maids on board the Jolly. It became something of a routine. Dressing in the morning, getting on deck, picking a heading. Anywhere and everywhere, right at the tips of our fingers. But it was a bit easier, then.” Emma’s muscles are never going to recover from this conversation. She turns anyway, straining her neck to meet his gaze and barely-there smile and it doesn’t take her long to figure that out either. “You’re resourceful,” she says, “I bet you’d even be able to figure out how to lace me back up.” “Suggests you’ll be here in the morning.” “Quite a royal scandal, sharing a boudoir with a notorious pirate captain.”

Killian’s smile stretches. Not by much, but enough and, for now, that’s enough. “I love you.”

He’s waiting, Emma can tell. For the response. The answer. The words that she swears are going to snap her tongue in half, weighing it down as they are.

She doesn’t say anything.

Pulling in a deep breath, she moves her hands instead and shimmies until the gown she only sort of likes pools around her waist, leaving her in nothing but a slip. And magic, the kind that hangs in the shadows and festers in the corners of her soul.

Emma wraps her fingers around the brace at Killian’s arms. Buckles and leather, some of it a slightly different color than the rest from years of use and magic of a different kind and she’s only a little worried she’s inadvertently frozen him there.

Until his eyes shift, tracing over her face with that same reverence that she’s come to covet in the exact possessive way she’d always wanted to avoid.

Bastard, indeed.

“Your turn,” Emma says, and her voice doesn’t crack. Another victory.

Killian doesn’t object either. Lets her flick and flip and tug, as lightly as she possibly can, twisting the hook off eventually. That last part seems like overkill, but Emma’s always enjoyed the way it clicks off — almost as if she’s flipping a switch on some other part of her, giving into the vulnerability she can see in Killian’s eyes and she’s going to fix all of this. If only to avoid her melodramatic commentary.

“Come on,” she mumbles, tugging him down next to her as she shoves off the rest of her gown. These sheets aren’t as soft, unfamiliar when Emma pulls them over both of them, but Killian’s arm curls around her waist all the same and her cheek always fits very well against the crook of his neck.

He flinches. “What? That’s—are you—” “Fine,” Killian cuts in. “Just tickles, is all. When you exhale so dramatically.” “God.” “Close your eyes, love.” “I’m not going to—” “—I know, but you can still stay here. With me.” There’s more to those words too. Fraught with hope and even more want, and Emma can’t ever remember wanting this as badly as she does now. So she doesn’t move. She doesn’t close her eyes, either. But she stays still, listens to the steady in and out of Killian’s breathing and—

Laughter.

Creeping across the floor and inching up the stone walls, circling either one of Emma’s ankles until it slams into her chest and takes root. She shifts — not quickly, but determined, careful not to wake Killian as she avoids the other face she knows is hidden just out of sight.

Magic makes her fingers itch. Makes her skin crawl. Anticipation clings to each of her vertebrae.

With her gown still on the floor, and a pirate she knows would tear the world apart for her still asleep, she sits back down at the table and starts again, anxious to catch the nightmares before they can linger for too long.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #laura writes canon #this is all devon's fault so blame her for any and all angst #i also refuse to accept any blame for timeline inconsistencies #we write what we want and what we want is characters to acknowledge their trauma

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eirian-houpe · 4 years ago

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The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Chapter 1

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut, Will add more as apropriate

Summary: Gold is suddenly awakened from the curse, not by the fail-safe that he programmed into his mind, but by the unexpected presence of his long lost maid, with whom he fell in love well before Regina cast his Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin must now find a way past Belle's disbelief and fear. She is still under the influence of the curse. With the help of his dear - his oldest - friend, Gold seeks a way past obstacles so that he can rekindle the love which he rejected back in the Dark Castle.

The story is set in the same 'verse as The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, and could be considered a sequel of sorts.

Chapter 1 - Old Friends

He felt drawn to her. He could not look away, his gaze transfixed as her eyes took in the fireworks bursting overhead. They paled by comparison. Nothing could compare.

…a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.

The thought caught him off guard, as if he were standing on the edge of a fall, with a gust of wind buffeting him toward the edge. He felt suddenly thirsty - the earth waiting for the cloud above his head to burst like the sparkles and fizzles overhead.

All this time she had been right there, within reach, the meaning that had been missing for as long as he could remember - as long as he had been in Storybrooke. It made sense of everything he’d done, but at the same time made no sense at all.

Suddenly afraid, for no reason he could understand, he took a step closer, right behind her, caressing her fingers softly, before taking her hands, slowly, into his own. Their fingers entwined.

It flashed through him in a pulse; bright, vibrant, burning away the fog of years and realms.

She mocked him. Regina mocked him - how dare she, and yet, he had no energy, and even less will to react to her impudence.

“Is this about that girl I met on the road?” She laughed and stalked the room, her hips swaying in exaggerated sensuality. It reminded him of Cora, and that did little to change his mood… the reminder of other betrayals, other… abandonments. Regina glanced his way. “What was her name? Margie? Verna?

Rumplestiltskin barely breathed her name. “Belle.”

Suddenly business-like, this evil queen he had created, said matter-of-fact as she fixed herself some tea - uninvited, “Right. Well... you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

He stopped idly spinning the wheel and turned to walk toward her, all but willing pox into the cup she was stirring, “What… tragedy?”

“You don't know?” Regina asked as though scandalized, then chuckled as she cleaned the spoon with her mouth and set it down. “Well, After she got home… her fiancé had gone missing.” He feigned innocence, but Regina knew. Her expression told him so. She took only a few steps away before turning around. “And after her stay here, her… association… with you, no one would want her, of course. Her father shunned her, cut her off, shut her out.”

Hope flared in his heart, and in an unguarded moment, he let the words slip from deep within that hope. “So she needs… a home?”

Regina laughed cruelly, though whether at what had happened, or at him for his weakness he was uncertain, then went on, “He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.”

She spoke the last two words with such careless triumph that the urge to throttle the life from the conniving bitch almost choked him… murdered his hope.

“You're lying,” he growled.

“Am I?” she countered, leaving him cold and dead inside.

He wanted to be angry now, to rail against the lies Regina had told him, blatant fabrications, right to his face, and yet… Here was his light. Hale, whole and…

“You’re real,” he breathed. “You’re alive!”

He moved closer yet, moving his fingers again in a soft, quiet caress. The curse was lifted, he remembered. Everything, and oh, how beastly he had been when they had last seen one another. When he had sent her away.

”I’m not a coward, dearie. It’s quite simple really… my power… means more to me than you.”

She pulled herself up to her full, diminutive height, and looked him full in the face. “No. No, it doesn't. You just don't think I can love you. Now, you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it.”

His heart broke as her voice quivered - a roar of pain that almost drowned out her following word, “Forever.”

He curled his hands into fists. His hard, pointed talons left wheal marks in his palms, but he couldn’t allow her to see how much her words affected him.

“And all you'll have... is an empty heart,” her voice broke, and she forced herself to go on, “and a chipped cup.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she held his gaze, and he had to push his own rising tears deep inside lest he belie his words. Not until she had turned, and walked away, out of the cell, and out of his life… forever… and he could no longer see or hear her, did he move - and then only to close his eyes.

Was she feeling this too? Did she remember? A part of him hoped not; hoped that fate had delivered him a way to right the wrongs of his past; to woo her, to love her as she deserved to be loved, and yet, the Dark One knew that ‘loopholes’ was another word for lies. Gold wanted no more lies.

For a moment, one sweet, sharp moment she leaned against him, tightened her fingers around his, and he knew… he knew without any doubt that she remembered. At least in that moment, she remembered.

“Belle,” he whispered.

Then, like the icy fall of rain that dampened even the hottest fire, she snatched her hands from his, and he was suddenly frozen, bereft. Helpless to do anything other that watch with mounting fear as she turned to face him; tried with all his heart to let her see that she had been right all along - that she had the measure of him, and not only that - but now, in the face of seeing her again, though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and draw her into his arms, hold her forever - protected, loved - he was still a coward.

“Belle,” he whispered again, reaching too late to catch her as she picked up her skirts and fled. He cried out for her, as he should have done then, in the Dark Castle - called her back, “Belle!”

His cry was echoed a moment later and he registered a familiar voice behind the calling. His friend, Jefferson. A Storybrooke friend, yes, but the Dark One’s only friend through all the ages. How could he not have known?

He stared. He stared after Belle, who stopped at neither of their calling, and he stared toward Jefferson, meeting the horrified expression that mirrored his own.

The Hatter seemed torn, glanced away as if to find Belle in the crowd, but ultimately turned his steps and hurried to Gold’s side.

"You knew!" Gold almost sobbed, and reaching out, grabbed Jefferson by the lapels of his flamboyant, silk tailcoat and pulled him closer, almost shaking the man. "How could you know… know me and yet say nothing?"

Jefferson’s long fingers closed around his wrists, not to prevent, but to anchor, as if the Portal Jumper feared to let go and needed to hold him close as he spoke.

"The man you are here and I said that?" Jefferson said, pained, and only then Gold saw the tears that were gathered in the other man’s blue eyes. "How could I, and not have you cast me away?"

For all that he saw, for all that he felt, still Gold gave vent to his own pain. "But you were my… we were friends!"

Instead of words, Jefferson answered with cry, almost of anguish, and suddenly releasing his wrists, clutched Gold close.

"We are friends," he sobbed, clinging tightly. "We are!"

At first, startled, Gold struggled, tried to push Jefferson away, but as the present melted away leaving just the two of them alone on the rise above where the other revelers were lost in their drunken celebrations of the night, Gold… Rumplestiltskin missed his friend, and already held tightly in Jefferson’s embrace, pulled the man closer still, and held him through the maelstrom of all that he was - pawnbroker, landlord, deal maker, sorcerer, master, Dark One, killer, father, husband, lover… coward - all of it, every little piece of him returning in a rush, he clung to Jefferson like a man drowning.

Eventually, both spent, they each slumped, exhausted to the ground, mute and panting for breath, though as he looked across at Jefferson, Rumplestiltskin saw that silent tears still ran down Jefferson’s face. Intuitively he knew the cause.

“I didn’t know,” he said, and Jefferson raised his face to look at him, incomprehension in his wet and shining eyes. “Grace,” Gold offered. “I didn’t know what Regina planned.”

“I know,” Jefferson whispered, before finding his voice. “I have always known it was her doing, and hers alone.” He reached out for Gold’s hand, and he took it without hesitation, listening as Jefferson continued. “For all that we didn’t see things the same way much of the time; for all that we fought, I knew and never once doubted that you’d ever do something like that to another man, another father. I saw what you did for Baelfire and—”

“Bae,” Gold interrupted. His voice hoarse and rasping. He felt Jefferson’s fingers tighten around his own, and he took a breath. “If I had the power,” he said, “to undo what she did.”

“No!” Jefferson sounded alarmed, almost terrified, then went on more calmly, “No. Not until we can be together. Not until I can be sure she won’t hate me for abandoning her. She can’t know.” His voice cracked as he went on. “Cloe’s her mother here. She knows nothing about a foolish man who made a promise and then broke it; who abandoned her to ignominy and hardship.”

“Jefferson…”

The other man blanched, and releasing his grip on Gold held up both hands in surrender, as if he thought he’d just delivered some kind of terrible insult.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Gold murmured quietly.

“Then whose?” Jefferson shook his head; argued. “I can recite a whole litany of ‘if I hadn’ts’ going all the way back to before we first met. Who else’s fault can it be?”

Gold fixed him with a level, uncompromising look.

“No,” Jefferson said firmly. “You are not responsible for all the ills of every realm.”

Gold was silent for a long time. He knew Jefferson well enough to understand that when he had his mind fixed on something - especially something self-deprecating - there could be no moving him; not until he saw the truth of it for himself.

Both men sighed, almost at the same time, and that made Gold chuckle just a little, with a good deal of his own self-deprecation, before he said, “And that… that, my good man, is why you are the Dark One’s only true friend.”

Jefferson let out another sigh, then offered Gold a smile through half-pursed lips, and then started to push himself up off the ground where they had both fallen.

“I’ll find her,” he promised softly. “Make sure she’s safe and gets home all right. We can fix this. We’ll find a way.”

“Ever the optimist, Jefferson.”

“Hardly,” the Hatter said dryly, before turning, ready to begin his descent from the hill. He stopped after just a few steps, and turned back. “Rumplestiltskin?”

Gold looked up, his head tipped to one side. “Hmm?”

“How long?”

Gold looked skyward, as if the position of the stars could give him the answer to Jefferson’s question, and they might well have - had time not been motionless in Storybrooke these past… He shook his head. He knew the answer. It was written into the fabric of the Dark Curse, into the single drop of ‘True Love’ he had dripped onto the parchment; The single drop that would herald the arrival of The Savior.

“Twenty-eight years,” he answered quietly. “Twenty-eight years.”

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke #angst #romance #eventual smut #the pawn shop on main street #the library beneath the clock tower #i will always write jefferson

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themattress · 4 years ago

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OUAT AND ME: SEASON 3

Story - Season 3 was the first season to (intentionally) divide itself between two story arcs, with the first half being the Neverland Saga and the second half being the Wicked Saga. While the Neverland Saga focused on the journey of the show's main characters through Neverland as they conquer their own inner demons in order to save Henry from the clutches of Peter Pan, the Wicked Saga focused on a new Dark Curse being cast on Storybrooke and the main characters' fight against Zelena, the Wicked Witch of the West, who is working toward a secret objective that will allow her to exact revenge on Regina, the Evil Queen.

The Neverland Saga, in the present day sequences, is the best the show has been since the Enchanted Forest quest early into Season 2. In its best moments, it's even on par with the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1. Seeing all of the characters work together toward a shared goal after all the clashing agendas from the previous season is so refreshing and exactly what the show needed, and everyone undergoes some kind of character development and gets their moment to shine. Greg and Tamara are killed off within the first few minutes of the premiere episode after finding out that "the Home Office" was the Lost Boys all along, and Peter Pan is quite possibly the greatest Big Bad in the show's entire run, and certainly among its most popular for just how wonderfully menacing, manipulative and despicable he is.

Unfortunately, I can't extend the same praise to its flashback sequences. The ones that involve Rumpelstiltskin and Hook in the 4th, 5th and 8th episodes are great and connect to the current narrative, but I take issue with all of the others in some way, big or small. The flashbacks in the 2nd, 9th and 10th episodes have fuck-all to do with what's currently happening in Neverland, and while the ones in the 3rd and 6th episodes do, there are too many issues in them to consider them good. For the 2nd, 6th and 10th, the problem is that the show is starting to contrive new "Snow White and friends vs. the Evil Queen" stories where they don't belong and aren't needed, and it especially has a negative impact on the Evil Queen since this is the point where she shifted from slightly campy to overtly campy, her menace quota reduced to virtually nil. For the 3rd, giving Regina and Tinker Bell a past connection is fine and works for the story, but the way they do it is stupid and with dire consequences later down the line, plus the show doesn't get much into her connections with actual Peter Pan characters like Hook, Wendy, and, well, Peter Pan. And as for the 9th, I actually have quite a lot to say on that so I'll save it for when I'm discussing Episode Quality.

My thoughts on the Wicked Saga have not changed all these years later: it's a textbook example of They Wasted A Perfectly Good Plot. With the set-up it starts with: a new Dark Curse, a new Big Bad, and new dynamics between many of the characters, they had the chance to take the show in a bold new direction following the ending of the Neverland Saga wrapping up the plot that's been going on since "Pilot". But instead, Adam and Eddy fall back into their bad Season 2 habits, and the result is that the show settles into this kind of bland status quo that it won't ever be able to shake off. The arc isn't actually a bad one, as it's solidly structured just like the Dark Curse and Neverland Sagas and there's a lot of great moments and developments made. It just falls short of the greatness that it could have had.

Characters - Everyone's more likable now! At least until they aren't.

* Emma takes center stage in the Neverland Saga. After finally learning to believe based solely on faith instead of always waiting for evidence to do so, she takes charge as the leader of the group affectionally dubbed "the Nevengers" by fans. In learning how to be a leader, she is able to learn more about herself and become an even more confident and decisive hero. Tragically, her character arc isn't fully resolved before it gets cut off by the events of the midseason finale, leaving her in a state of anxiety and uncertainty in the Wicked Saga before finally making her way back to the resolution of her character arc in the season finale. And on paper, this sounds fine, but in execution Emma's character through the majority of the Wicked Saga is a one-note bore who mainly exists to prop up the development of other characters. She isn't as sidelined as badly as she was in the latter half of Season 2, but still not ideally handled, especially when much of the story arc is specifically building toward only her being able to defeat Zelena only for Regina to do it instead. However, the resolution her character receives in the finale is handled exceptionally well, so I guess it all balances out in the end.

* Snow is actually back on top form in the Neverland Saga and it's wonderful to see, but it doesn't last into the Wicked Saga where she's back to the insipid, Regina-coddling weakling that Season 2 turned her into, whose biggest contribution to the plot is simply having a baby. Charming is a lot more interesting, as in the Neverland Saga we get to see his David Nolan weaknesses return but this time as a result of his Charming strengths, which is a fascinating dynamic to see at work and leads to some great interactions between him and Hook, a relationship that got started in Season 2 and will only continue to grow (and occasionally regress) as the show continues. And in the Wicked Saga, he has an entire episode dedicated to his feelings of failure as a father and how he fears that he might fail his second child too.

* Henry....still sucks, damn it! For a story arc with the mission statement of Save Henry, the Neverland Saga makes it difficult to care about saving him when he's portrayed as so stupid and gullible and easily led by his captor, Peter Pan, to the point where he literally sacrifices his heart (the Heart of the Truest Believer) to him against the pleas of his father and mothers. And while he has the potential to become more interesting in the Wicked Saga due to having lost his memories, the show totally ruins it by giving him his memories back by the end, because Heaven forbid that Regina pay a lasting consequence for her decades of villainy.

* Oh, and speaking of Regina, like Snow she's also really good in the Neverland Saga only for the Wicked Saga to ruin her again. In the Neverland Saga, she establishes herself as the Token Evil Teammate of the Nevengers, who knows she's a sociopathic villain and owns it as she utilizes her skill set for the greater good. Her line after ripping out a Lost Boy's heart at Emma's behest sums up why she works so well in this arc: "She didn't. I did. That's what I'm here for. One happy family." This should have been Regina's seasonal character arc and her status within the show going forward: a part of the family who may be evil and grouchy and not get along with everyone and even antagonize other members of the family, but who can still be counted on when push comes to shove and whom the other members of the family stand on equal grounds with and can push back against. It's the ideal recipe for a slow-burn redemption where by the end of the show she's truly become a semi-decent person. Just the act of destroying and fully reversing the Dark Curse in the midseason finale alone, at the cost of Henry losing all his memories of her while she gives him and Emma good memories of having always been together was a powerful start to such a redemption. It was all right there.

But of course, Adam and Eddy could never let their precious Regina go so long without having all of the things both she and they believe she is entitled to. So in the present-day story of the Wicked Saga (she's still fairly decent in the flashbacks), Regina gets a handsome soulmate in Robin Hood, and validation over her more powerful half-sister, and engagement in family dinners, and reconciliation with Snow without her expressing any remorse or apology toward her (Snow puts the blame on herself instead - "I was such a brat!"), and Henry with all of his memories back, and to out of nowhere and without her heart in her body become a powerful practitioner of light magic to the point where she's basically the Savior now! Yes, she seems to lose Robin at the end when Maid Marian is brought back, but that just ends up making her victim complex and blame deflection even stronger ("You're just like your mother!" she says to Emma, "Never thinking about consequences!" Because how dare she bring back one of Regina's past victims and allow her to be reunited with her family!)

In short, the Wicked Saga put a sudden fast-forward on Regina's redemption, giving her all sorts of goodies that would make sense as individual karmic rewards on a slow-burn redemption but make no sense when they happen in quick succession. And then at the end, they took one of those things away just to make her seem like more of a martyr, something they've been doing ever since the end of "Queen of Hearts" back in Season 2 and at this point I was sick of it. Little did I know it was about to be taken to a whole new level...

* Rumple wasn't bad in the Neverland Saga, per se, in fact he's amazing in the last four episodes. But early in, he backtracks on the goodwill he built up in the Season 2 finale by arrogantly abandoning the rest of the Nevengers to go rescue Henry all by himself, and all this accomplishes is getting him lost in the jungle, crying over old childhood dolls, being plagued by a hallucination of Belle, taunted by Peter Pan, and having an underwhelming reunion with the son he thought had died only to quickly come to blows with said son as he begins showing signs of temptation from his selfish self-preservation instincts at the expense of Henry's well-being once again. It just gets tiring after a while and you're glad when Regina verbally bitch-slaps him back into some semblance of his old self, which leads to the aforementioned amazing moments where he reconciles with the other Nevengers, confronts his father, and ultimately masterminds the heroes’ action plan in the midseason finale which culminates in his final redemption as he sacrifices his life to take down Pan once and for all.

But therein lies the problem: Rumple's entire series-long character arc just came to its natural conclusion. He chose love over power and courage over fear, standing up to the father who ruined his whole psyche and giving his life for his loved ones. However, since it's the middle of the season and Robert Carlyle is still contracted for more, they had to resurrect him. This decision cheapening his sacrifice is bad enough, but the writers also have no real idea what to do with him for the rest of the arc other than act crazy in a cage and then serve as Zelena's meat-slave, which is even less fun to watch than him moping around in the jungle was! While him deceiving Belle and killing Zelena at the end promises better things for him in the future, it's still a slog to have to sit through what preceded it, and you never quite shake off the feeling that the show might have been better off if it only had the balls to leave him dead.

* Hook was already one of the best additions to the cast in Season 2, but Season 3 is where he truly shines. He is in his element in the Neverland Saga, bonding with Emma and Charming while he rediscovers the more heroic and honorable side of himself. The insight into his past especially helps with this, as we better understand where he came from and how he got to where he was when we first met him. And in the Wicked Saga, he is the impetus behind Emma regaining her memories and returning to Storybrooke to be the Savior once more, as we learn that he had attempted to return to his old pirate ways back in the Enchanted Forest but ultimately couldn't do it, as his experiences with Emma and his love for her had changed him for the better. And so when he learned her family was in trouble and needed her help, he sacrificed the Jolly Roger and his pirate captain status in order to get back to her. After learning this on top of all the time they spend together, particularly in that very season finale, Emma finally lets down her walls and enters a romantic relationship with him...and I can't blame her in the slightest, because out of all her love interests, it's clear that she and Hook have the most in common and have the best chemistry. It’s True Love.

* This also might just be the best season for Belle as a character. Her focus episode in the middle of the Neverland Saga is actually about her and her desire to be a hero and contribute to the cause rather than just about her romance with Rumple, and she gets to be a badass who saves the day and makes a great new friend in Ariel. She's also good in the Wicked Saga, where she bonds with Neal, takes Hook and Regina to task for their past misdeeds against her until they apologize and make it up to her, and continues to be a valuable asset as the town librarian and scholar. Pity we can't feel happy for her on her wedding day, though, as even in his goddamn proposal to her Rumple manages to be the worst lover ever.

* Neal is promoted to a regular character this season, which naturally means he's its designated screwed-over regular who won't make it to the next season! It's a shame since despite how miscast Michael Raymond-James continues to be, Neal is better written in this season than he was in the previous one. Through both the Neverland and Wicked Sagas, he shows a passionate desire to be a better father to Henry than Rumple was to him, to not repeat the same mistakes that Rumple made. And so when he is separated from Emma and Henry, he becomes obsessed with getting back to them no matter what the cost, veering dangerously into Rumple territory as he starts dabbling in dark magic. But when the ritual to resurrect his father so that he can find a way back to Earth costs him his life, he ends up accepting his fate rather than cling to life like a coward and risk becoming just like Rumple. While I don't particularly miss him nor do I find his heroic death enough to warrant Snow and Charming naming their new son after him, I'm glad in the end he was able to break the cycle.

* Peter Pan, as I said before, is a top contender for the show's greatest Big Bad. Much of it has to do with Robbie Kay, who absolutely nails the cocky and charismatic yet malicious and frightening qualities that you expect to see from an evil version of Peter Pan. He is so utterly, thoroughly, skin-crawlingly evil that you are invested in the heroes' quest less out of concern for Henry and more because you want to see this demon child be defeated. And of course, there's his backstory and true identity - he's actually Malcolm, Rumple's father, who cruelly abandoned him in order to bond with the Eldritch Abomination personifying Neverland's dark side and obtain eternal youth. But eternal youth doesn't mean eternal life, and Pan will die unless he obtains the Heart of the Truest Believer belonging to his great-grandson, Henry.

While this backstory is divisive among fans, I'm in the camp that loves it. Not only does it add a greater layer of depth to Rumple and his story and make Pan both more pitiful and more reprehensible, but OUAT is at its best when it uses fairy tales to explore real issues, and this is a quite literal exploration of "Peter Pan Syndrome", where adult men selfishly remain in arrested development even when they become fathers. It also really boosts Pan's Ultimate Villain cred, as none of what transpired in the show would have happened if he hadn't abandoned his son and scarred him for life. He is Patient Zero for all the characters' suffering.

* Zelena, the Wicked Witch of the West, naturally feels like a step down when compared to Peter Pan, but this isn't for a lack of effort on the part of the actress, as Rebecca Mader is delightful as she chews the scenery in a blaze of bug-eyed, bared-teeth, shrieking, cackling, psychotic glory. The issues with Zelena are in the writing. First off, making her Regina's half-sister is questionable given that we just had a villain with a secret familial connection with one of our mainstay baddies, which was following from an evil woman with a familial connection to Regina specifically! And them being sisters doesn't have much bearing on the conflict beyond explaining why the Wicked Witch has green skin (it magically turned green out of jealousy for Regina), and she only has green skin in the flashbacks anyway. It also doesn't track with how they first present Zelena in her backstory: she's a girl who wants love and a place to belong, but the moment she discovers she has a sister in another realm her reaction isn't to seek her out and bond with her but "why does she have all of that power and privilege, I oughta have all of that, it's not faaaaaaaaair!" She also lusts after Rumple who, having previously insisted that no-one could ever love him, casually admits that "he has that effect on women" and stops training Zelena because he accepts as fact that she loves him more than anything else and so she can't cast the Dark Curse for him. It makes no sense.

On top of that, her big secret plan ends up being anticlimactic - she wants to create a time travel spell so that she can go back in time and make herself the one who casts the Dark Curse for Rumple - and she is defeated ridiculously easy by Regina's out-of-her-ass light magic powers and then unceremoniously shivved by Rumple in her jail cell. All while Adam and Eddy drop boulder-sized hints that she isn't really dead and we haven't seen the last of her. Then why "kill her" to begin with? Why not just keep her imprisoned? Like I said, Zelena is a good idea for a character and with a great actress, but the writing really let her down.

* Beyond the usual side characters around Storybrooke who are fine as usual, we get several new ones that all make an impact. There's Felix, Pan's creepy and fanatical right-hand boy; Tinker Bell the cynical exiled fairy turned reluctant ally of the Nevengers; the adult versions of John and Michael Darling who run the anti-magic group Greg and Tamara belonged to on Pan's behest since he's holding Wendy hostage; Liam Jones, the deceased older brother of Killian Jones; Ariel of The Little Mermaid fame played to adorable perfection by Joanna Garcia-Swisher, Blackbeard the pirate who serves as Hook's arch-rival in their mutual field of interest; and Glinda the Good Witch who protected Oz until Zelena ousted her from power.

And then there are the new ones that make much less of an impact such as a charisma-free Prince Eric; Walsh the Wizard of Oz (and Emma's short-lived boyfriend, and a flying monkey - yes, he's really all three of those); a bland version of Rapunzel; a dumbfounding semi-villainous adaptation of Lumiere the talking candle, and Dorothy Gale who is so devoid of anything special or interesting that she's a slap in the face to her literary and cinematic counterpart. I'm not sure what went wrong with these characters, but it went very wrong.

However, one side character needs to be addressed above all others: Robin Hood. He's back and involved in the present day story, now played by Sean Maguire instead of Tom Ellis, and the revelation via Tinker Bell's pixie dust that he's Regina's "soul mate" is the start of his character being butchered beyond repair. The sad thing is that it could have worked: the argumentative, mutual dislike yet still caring about each other type of relationship they have in the flashbacks was perfect and should have continued, progressing naturally into Belligerent Sexual Tension and finally romance as Regina becomes a better person. Instead, when they lose their memories and meet again in Storybrooke, it's now love at first sight and instant romance, with Robin being disgustingly courteous and compliant toward Regina (claiming she's "bold and audacious, but not evil"). Robin Hood is supposed to stand against corrupt, oppressive tyrants, not fall in love with them, and Regina is nowhere near out of her corrupt, oppressive tyrant mindset yet. But she's Regina, Adam and Eddy's favorite character, and so if Emma's getting a sexy British love interest than so must she, regardless of how it clashes with his code of honor! Ugh, such a waste of a great hero, and of a good actor.

Atmosphere - Remember when I said that Season 2 got dark in the bad way? Well, the Neverland Saga is dark in the good way, where the darkness isn't coming from a constant steam of personal misery, heinous actions, and the heroes failing against the villains, but from things that are suggested and things that lurk in the shadows, from trials the heroes must face in order to come out stronger that come off almost like an intense form of therapy, and from a particularly evil villain who will do anything to get what he wants. The fight against said villain also restores the tit-for-tat style of combat that Season 1 did so well at, with both the heroes and the villain getting the best of each other on multiple occasions so that it feels like a legitimate struggle rather than a never-ending one-sided blowout like it was with Cora.

Unfortunately, the show also takes this dark atmosphere to way too literal an extreme. The choice to keep Neverland in the present day always at night seems cool early on, but the novelty wears off quickly when you feel like you've been looking at the same backdrop for scenes and even episodes on end. I think allowing some scenes to be at day or afternoon would have done wonders at keeping up a sense of variety - many gifsets online brighten up the pictures and they looks so much better as a result. This was a big wasted opportunity.

The tone of the Wicked Saga is generally lighter and campier, with the only particularly dark things coming from Rumple and Neal's storylines, and that was definitely the right call since anything heavier after the Neverland Saga would start to feel oppressive. And again, the fight against Zelena is an even-handed one, with both heroes and villain getting to score points.

One of the biggest surprises upon revisiting this season is just how well Storybrooke was handled as a setting. It doesn't show up too often in the Neverland Saga but is well utilized when it is, and in the Wicked Saga we get a lot of new locations like Zelena's farmhouse beyond the woods and explorations of ones that were previously underexplored such as the docks and shipyard area. More importantly, magic shenanigans are kept to a minimum and for the most part there are actually sensible rules applied to them! Pan enacting the Dark Curse, the heroes counteracting him, Zelena's usage of magic, Emma learning to channel her inner magic, the séance to summon Cora's spirit, the time travel spell...they are things that don't just happen, there's stuff that has to be done and established beforehand.

It's not all done well, of course - we get the worst excuse why no-one can leave the town line yet (flying monkeys will get you if you try!) and Regina's light magic is pulled out of her ass following a breaking of the Dark Curse from her that makes no sense (Henry wasn't under any curse, so a True Love's Kiss on him shouldn't break squat!), but it's a step up from Season 2, enough to fool you into thinking that Adam and Eddy have learned their lesson.

Episode Quality - There's no bad episode in the Neverland Saga, although there are a few that stand out as weaker than the rest. "Nasty Habits", for instance, is kind of drag whenever Peter Pan isn't onscreen, since the Nevengers are stuck moping around at Baelfire's former tree house while Baelfire himself ("It's NEAL!") continues to be unable to sell the drama between him and his father in the way it deserves to be sold. And "The New Neverland", beyond having an awful title that gives everything away too soon, has a ridiculously fast-paced and repetitive plot in order to set up the midseason finale...a problem that could have been easily rectified had it not also hosted the most pointless flashback in the entire season.

And now I need to talk about the flashback in the episode before that one: "Save Henry", the climax of the Nevengers' time in Neverland. It's about how Regina first adopted Henry, and I actually really like it. It shows how she almost might have reformed after obtaining her new son but then discovered he was the child of the Savior, and unable to choose between him and her power over the cursed town, she copped out by drinking a memory loss potion. Not only is this tragic but it actually explains a lot about why Regina was so unstable and abusive in Season 1, since a flashback in that season had Snow drinking just such a potion to forget Charming and we got to see exactly what it did to her psyche as a result. However...this flashback didn't belong in this particular episode. Sure, Regina's love for Henry was a part of the present day story, but so was Emma's. And Neal's. And Pan's desire to fully assimilate his heart so that he could live forever. I really think that a flashback to Neverland in its prime, shared between Pan, Hook, Baelfire and Tinker Bell, would have been far more appropriate. After all, we hear a lot about those relationships, but I really want to see more of them.

I have few complaints about the present day narratives of "Heart of the Truest Believer", "Lost Girl", "Quite a Common Fairy", "Good Form", "Ariel", "Dark Hollow", "Think Lovely Thoughts" and "Save Henry", though, nor about the flashback of "Nasty Habits" that brilliantly composites Peter Pan with the Pied Piper of Hamelin, luring children away with a pan flute.

And then there's the midseason finale, "Going Home". Holy shit. This is the finale that gives "A Land Without Magic" a run for its money. It's not just the finale to the Neverland Saga, but the finale to the entire story that was begun in "Pilot", with every character making what appears to be their last stand. The stakes and the emotions run very high in this one, peaking with the double punch of Rumple's beautiful sacrifice to save his loved ones from Pan and the scene at the town line where Emma and Henry have to say goodbye to all of their friends and family from Storybrooke, with the town and the characters disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke as Emma and Henry drive across the town line, all their memories of the show's events forgotten but replaced with new memories implanted by Regina, memories of Emma never giving Henry up for adoption and them living happily together for years. It all started when Henry came to Emma's apartment to bring her to Storybrooke, and now it ends with them both leaving Storybrooke and heading toward their happy ending. It's perfect.

The Wicked Saga had its work cut out for it in topping what came before it, and "New York City Serenade" following up the last minute, literal Sequel Hook of "Going Home" does end up feeling anti-climactic in how quickly Stoybrooke, its residents, and all of Emma's memories are restored (also, Emma's new boyfriend being a flying monkey was so dumb), but it's still a solid and enjoyable enough episode to watch, with its direct follow-up, "Witch Hunt", being even better. "The Tower" has great atmosphere and character development, and while "Quiet Minds" definitely could have been better, it could have been worse too. "The Jolly Roger", meanwhile, is the perfect midpoint episode, mostly a breather and a deeper exploration of Hook's character and how much he's changed in spite of him doing his damndest in the flashback to resist that change, as well as the welcome return of our fave fish-girl, Ariel.

It's really just the four heavily Zelena-focused episodes "It's Not Easy Being Green", "Bleeding Through", "A Curious Thing" and "Kansas" that I have trouble with; I feel like the writers really dropped the ball on Regina and Zelena's conflict and individual character development in these episodes, which is ironic given that Evil vs. Wicked was the biggest thing promoted about this half-season arc and it ended up being its weakest element.

The two-part season finale, "Snow Drifts" and "There's No Place Like Home", is both a weird and wacky homage to Back to the Future and a return to the series' magical roots. Emma and Hook's adventure to the time of the "Snow Falls" flashback is so much fun and is the perfect antidote to the last few lousy episodes. It also could have very well made an ideal series finale if five changes had been made to both it and the whole Wicked Saga's story: Neal would have to still be alive (that way we don't get the baby being named after him, which is stupid), Rumple would have to still be dead (so no lying to Belle via wedding proposal and killing Zelena), Zelena would have to still be alive and in jail (totally doable with Rumple not alive), Marian would have to not be included in the plot at all (past or present), and of course the stinger with Elsa showing up would have to be removed. Do that and it's a happy ending. But they didn't do that, so following a quick diversion, I'm stuck having to watch Season 4.

Overall - Just as there is no doubt in my mind that Season 1 is the show’s strongest season, there is no doubt in my mind that Season 3 is the runner-up. This is an all-around solid, largely well-crafted, entertaining season of television, especially the first half of it. During this season, I was proud to call myself a OUAT fan. It’s such a shame that the Wicked Saga didn’t end up innovating more and instead settled the show down into a status quo, because if it hadn’t done that then this season’s template would have been the one to follow for the rest of the show, with truly new and exciting story arcs in each half of a season that shake up the show and its characters for the better rather than always returning them to the same tired status quo that only lessens their appeal every time it happens. Oh, what might have been...

#Once Upon a Time #ABC #OUAT and Me #Opinion #Analysis

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tvandenneagram · 5 years ago

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Once Upon a Time: Regina Mills (The Evil Queen) – Type 2w3

Regina is manipulative, caring and nurturing. At her core, Regina is an inherently good person and is kind, compassionate and deeply craves love.

At her best, Regina is selfless and by the end of the show she becomes the Good Queen. She prioritises other’s needs ahead of her own and is self-sacrificing. For example, Regina falls in love with Robin Hood, but when his wife Marian comes back, she sets those feelings aside so Robin can be with his wife. After the death of Robin Hood, Regina has to learn who she is outside of her relationship and how to take care of herself (integrating to 4).

At her worst, Regina becomes manipulative and vengeful. She blames Snow White for the death of her love, Daniel, and vows to take revenge on her. Regina begins to practice dark magic and seeks power over the realm, earning her the moniker of the Evil Queen (disintegrating to 8). At this stage, Regina also becomes very vindictive so she casts the curse upon Storybrooke, because she wants to destroy everyone else’s happiness since she believes she will not be happy without Daniel.

Regina became dissatisfied with her revenge and begun to feel at a loss, so she decided to adopt Henry. She is a very caring mother towards him and will do anything to protect him. Regina is initially jealous of Henry’s relationship with Emma and manipulates things to try and hurt their relationship. For example, Regina tricks Emma into saying that she thinks Henry’s fairy-tale ideas are ‘crazy’ because she knows Henry will overhear and that this would upset him. Over the show, Regina becomes less threatened by Henry’s relationship with Emma and puts his needs first.

Regina shows her wing 3 in that she is very image conscious and extroverted. 2w3s are also often more manipulative and deceptive than 2w1s which fits Regina to a tee.

Tri-type: 2w3 – 6w7 – 1w2

Some quotes to describe Regina’s traits and motivations:

“When I was the Evil Queen, I spent every day not giving a damn about anyone. And in return, no one cared about me. I thought all I needed was my vengeance to keep me warm at night. But then something happened. My enemies became my family. And that’s when I finally felt happy. That is why I’m here. They need my help, and when family needs help, you step up.”

“That’s what true love is. It’s sacrifice. It’s giving up everything for the person you love.”

“I thought my story came to an end a long time ago, and then new people came into my life, people who gave me a second chance. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me next, or for everyone. I refuse to believe there won’t be more adventures, more love, more family. And yes, there will be more loss, because that’s just a part of life. And in the end, we can get past it all… with hope.”

“Forgiving yourself is the hardest thing to do.”

“If you hold onto someone too hard, that doesn’t make them love you.”

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years ago

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Where Your Heart Will Fly on Wings - 1/2

Part One: A Ship, A Map, and A Secret

A Neverland arc (season 3A) rewrite where the gang doesn't meet Captain Hook until they get to Neverland to rescue Henry. Most of the end of s2 ("Second Star to the Right..." "... and Straight on' Till Morning," the last two episodes of the season) are the same: Greg and Tamara kidnap Henry. With Killian not present, I imagine that David succeeds in wrestling a bean away from Greg. They go to Rumple for help, and though he refused before, Blue's potion worked in giving Belle her memories back and he changes his mind. Somewhere in his shop, there is a ship in a bottle, and he removes this ship, docks it in the harbor, and leads Emma, Regina, Mary Margaret, and David through a portal that takes them to the waters surrounding Pan's island.

Also on AO3

Special thanks to @shireness-says my forever beta who only makes my life (and my stories) better, and all the ladies on discord who answered all the little questions I struggled with while writing this. Thanks, ladies. ( @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @stahlop ) Written for @neverlandnewyear. Some other interested pals: @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @carpedzem @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @regi-writes-stuff @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @winterbaby89

The ship touches down on the waters, the portal disappearing from around them — but what they find is no better. Fat, cold rain drops pelt them from above, and below them, the waves begin to toss the dilapidated ship in every direction.

“Great job, Gold!” Regina yells, wrapping one of the ropes around her wrist. “You landed us right in the middle of a storm!”

“Believe it or not, dearie, my powers do not include the ability to control the weather, and certainly not in this realm!”

"We don't have time for this!" David chimes in, helping Mary Margaret keep her footing on the quickly-dampening deck. "If we're even going to make it onto the island, we have to get through this storm together!"

"And how do you expect we do that?" Regina chides. "This ship is barely more than a pile of old boards, it's not going to survive this storm."

"Then maybe we should work together to try to make it through this!" Mary Margaret yells.

"What do you expect us to do?”

"Well, we can start by trusting each other!"

Regina scoffs. "You think trust is going to get us through this storm? Is your trust going to keep us from taking on water?"

"No," Emma mumbles, looking down to her feet, and the water that she finds there makes her realize just how much trouble they're in.

And that's when something rams into the side of the ship. And again. And again.

"What the hell was that?"

"Sharks?"

"Afraid not," Rumple mumbles, trying to plant his feet on the slippery deck to keep control of the helm.

Regina looks over the railing, conjuring a fireball in her hand. "Mermaids."

"Mermaids?" Emma repeats. "They're real, too?"

"Does that really surprise you anymore?" Regina asks.

"We have to do something!" Mary Margaret yells over the wind.

"I am not being capsized by a fish!" David sloshes across the deck to a small cannon, which he loads a length of chain into before firing it into the water.

Mary Margaret picks a large net up off the helm, tossing half of it to Emma. “Help me get this into the water!”

“What are you going to do, catch one of them?” Regina tosses a fireball towards the surface of the water — which, surprisingly, works, and a mermaids around them back off the ship.

“Yes!" Mary Margaret stops for a moment to glance at Regina before tossing the net into the waves. "And ask her to help us.”

“Mermaids aren’t going to help you, dearies!”

“Obviously you’re also not going to help us, either!” Regina crosses the deck and throws out another fireball, clearing the starboard side just as she did the port. “There.” She wipes her hands on her soaked slacks and smiles at the fact that the storm also seems to have left with the mermaids. “They’re gone.”

“Not all of them!” Mary Margaret says, grunting as she and Emma struggle to pull their fishing net back onto the deck. “What about this one?”

With a flick of Regina's hand, the creature is out of their net and sprawled on the boards of the deck, her hands bound in front of her and her shining tail flopping into the inches of water that have settled onto the boards of the deck.

But her presence on the deck only causes an argument to break out between them, each offering their own way to deal with her — to ask for help, to kill her, to let her go. With every question they ask her, she offers them a vague but threatening answer, and the storm that Regina thought was over slowly begins to reform around them. Even after Regina turns her to wood with a whoosh of her magic, they continue to argue amongst themselves, the storm surging around them — all except Emma, who realizes the mermaid’s plan was to set them against each other to be destroyed by the storm. With no other option, she tries to get their attention, screaming across the small ship towards them, but nothing works — and she dives into the sea.

Quickly followed by a piece of metal rigging, pulled off by the winds into the water behind her and making hard contact with her head, immediately knocking her unconscious.

Without a second thought, David moves to dive in behind her, but Mary Margaret’s hand tight around his arm stops him. “No! You could get pulled under, too!”

“Not to worry!” A voice cuts through the rushing wind and water, another ship appearing out of the darkness of the storm. Within moments, it is close enough for the man to follow Emma into the water, a rope tied around his waist.

For a few long, terrifying moments, nothing happens. The storm still surging around them makes it impossible for them to see into the water, and they can only hope that the mysterious man can save her before it's too late.

After what feels like forever, a head breaks the surface of the water, Emma's bright hair a strong contrast to the dark waves, and the other man follows.

"Pull me up, Scarlett!" he calls, facing away from their small ship, and the man just visible on the deck of the nearby ship does as asked, pulling the man with Emma in tow. David wants to oppose, beg the man to bring Emma back to their ship, but just the feeling of Mary Margaret's hand on his arm keeps his mouth closed.

"Can you get us over there?" Mary Margaret asks, turning towards Rumplestiltskin. He rolls his eyes, but twirls his hand in front of him anyway, taking them all onto the other ship's deck in a wisp of smoke.

"Is she okay?" David asks as soon as he finds his footing, kneeling beside where Emma is laying on the deck — just as she spits out a mouthful of seawater and rolls onto her side. Mary Margaret drops to her knees on the deck beside her daughter, wrapping her arms around Emma's shoulders.

"Perhaps we should give the lass a moment? A bit of space?" the man who rescued her says, leaning against the bannister behind him, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Oh, come on !" Regina cuts him off, raising her hand towards the wave, moving ever-closer to their ship. "We don't have time for all this."

"Alas, she's right. I'm afraid we'll have to save the pleasantries until after the dashing rescue," he says, striding to what can only be his rightful place behind the helm and leading them quickly away from the waves, away from the storm. David helps Emma to her feet and they all watch as their old ship crumbles beneath the waves, after which the storm around them seems to disappear at an alarming rate; within mere minutes, the sun shines down from a cloudless sky and the soft wind blows lightly on the sails.

The man locks the helm into place and holds his hand out in a welcoming gesture. "This seems a much more appropriate time for introductions. Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger. "

"Okay,” David says, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jones," he says, mimicking David's position -- which only draws attention to his left arm, which is blunted just shy of the elbow, replaced with a shining, metal hook. "But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker—"

Rumple laughs, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You've really owned up to your ailment, haven't you, Captain Hook ?" he says, spitting the last two words between his teeth.

The man turns around, noticing Rumple standing behind him for the first time. "Oh, now that's just my bloody luck, innit?" He pushes his dark, wet bangs off his forehead with his wrist and lets out a small laugh. "All I was expecting was a few damsels in distress," he says, turning towards Emma for a moment and waggling his eyebrows at her before returning his attention to Gold. "Yet it appears I've caught myself a crocodile."

"Like, Captain Hook Captain Hook? Waxed mustache and perm and Peter Pan?"

"Well, love, I must admit I'm uncertain about the first two, but I'm glad to hear that you know who we're going up against."

"Up against? I just want to save my son."

"Why do you think they brought him here, dearies?" Rumple asks, flourishing his hands to conjure a whisp of purple smoke, revealing a new outfit of dark pants and a black, reptilian-scaled vest. "Pan is the one behind it all, I have no doubts about that. And he is a far more powerful foe than any of you are able to go up against."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Regina bites back, but Rumple is gone in another wisp of smoke before the question even leaves her lips.

"It appears that even after all these years, he is still as helpful as he's always been," Hook says, his jaw obviously tight with tension.

Emma's head is spinning. She's spent months trying to wrap her head around everything about Storybrooke and her life, around the idea of true love and fairy tales and everyone's stories intertwining — but this, running into handsome, one-handed pirates in Neverland that have a history with Gold, goes beyond all else.

"Wait, you know Mr. Gold?" Mary Margaret asks, voicing the question they all seem to be thinking.

"Aye, " he says, wrapping his hook around one of the spokes of the helm, where his attention is also focused. "though he was not known by that name. Before he became the Dark One as well, if the rumors are to be true."

For once, Regina seems interested in what he has to say." But he's been the Dark one for —"

"Lifetimes, aye," he says, cutting her off, but turning his eyes down to where she is standing on the lower deck.

No one knows how to respond to him, so the deck stays silent. For the first time, Emma looks around, taking in the small crew that stands around them. There are five that she can see, not including the captain: another tall, dark-haired man standing against the railing, arms crossed over his chest; a stout man with a red beard and an even redder hat; a fierce-looking woman with a mess of dark hair piled high on the top of her head, her dark orange tunic and black pants having seen better days; and two dark, brooding young men, no more than twenty, on the far end of the deck.

"What brings you all to Neverland?" the woman asks. Emma is not surprised that she is the one who tries to make conversation, though she vaguely remembers something about women being bad luck on ships.

"They took my son," Emma and Regina say simultaneously, and none of the ship's crew are able to keep their immediate reactions off their face.

The dark haired man leaning against the railing behind David barks out a laugh, but when Regina turns her glare in his direction, he snaps his mouth shut.

"What could Pan want with your son?" Hook asks.

"Does it matter?" Emma spits back. "We need to get him back."

Hook holds up his hands in a gesture of reluctant surrender. "Of course, of course, you're right." He turns to the man still leaning against the railing, who pushes off to his feet when he sees the look on the captain's face. "Prepare for a return to open waters, I would like to dock at Pirate's Cove before dinner time, Mister Scarlett."

Emma expects a salute, given the rest of the captain's countenance, but the man — Scarlett — just nods and walks away.

"Dinner?" Regina asks, her voice dripping with anger. "What part of ' we don't have time for this' don't you understand, pirate?" she spits.

"Can I ask you how many times you've visited this island, your Majesty?" he asks, the same fire in his voice.

She's taken aback for a moment, but answers nonetheless: "Never."

"That's what I thought. I, however, have been here for longer than any of you can even imagine, which gives me the kind of knowledge you could use on this type of quest. Are you really going to turn that down?"

To this, Regina has no response.

"Now, the beaches at Pirate's Cove will prove much more useful to your mission here, and by sailing around the island, it will rid you of the necessity of walking either through or around the Dark Jungle, which I can assure you is something you do not want to do. So, yes, we are going to chance the few hours it will take to sail around the island to hopefully cut days off of what it would have taken you on foot, and then we will be closer to Pan's camp and it will hopefully prove easier to find your boy."

This time, it's David who is angered by his response: " We ? What do you mean 'we'?"

Captain Hook practically rolls his eyes at this, which almost pulls a laugh out of Emma. “Do you expect to navigate the island yourselves?"

Emma intervenes, trying to calm the tension while also ensuring they stay focused on rescuing Henry: "He's right, David, we could use his assistance."

He winks at Emma. "I had a feeling I was going to like you."

Though she knows she should be resting, bunking with Regina, David, and Mary Margaret belowdecks, Emma instead finds herself drawn to the crew of the Jolly Roger , and spends the next few hours chatting quietly with them as the ship makes its way across the surprisingly quiet waters surrounding Neverland.

Especially the woman — Tiger Lily, Emma learns. Something about her keeps Emma interested in their whispered conversation, and it does not take her long to learn that, like her own, the woman's background is full of sadness and sacrifice. She tells Emma how she sacrificed herself to try to stop someone from turning evil and spending the rest of her magic to get to this island after exiling herself; tells her about being found by Pan and working for him in return, only to learn how evil and twisted his ways are, stealing boys from their families and never allowing them to leave. (" And there's something deeper and darker behind it all, something that he only mutters about with his second in command, a Dark Magic that keeps the island alive — I believe with the sacrifice of the boys who decide they want to leave." ) And Captain Hook, saving her as she tried to escape Pan, though she knew it was impossible — or, well, improbable.

"And I've been in his service ever since. He was working with Pan for a while, too, and able to leave this realm. He asked every time we docked somewhere if I wanted to leave, to live a better life, but I've enjoyed the time I've spent with him as my captain. I've never known a better man."

"Oh, is that so, Lily?" the very man appears behind them, a smile covering his dark features — except his eyes, Emma realizes. His eyes are the brightest blue she has ever seen, the same color as the soft waves moving in the sunlight.

"Now, come on, Captain," she laughs, and the way she sets her hand on the captain's arm sends an unwanted shiver down Emma's back. "You and I both know you're nothing if not a man of honor."

"Yes, but you're not supposed to divulge that knowledge to our new guests just yet."

"And why not?" Emma asks, knowing that her crossing her arms over her chest is a defense mechanism, but that only makes her pull them closer to her.

He wags his eyebrows across his forehead, then winks at her once more. "Can't go around telling everyone that Captain Hook is a big softie. I have a reputation to uphold."

Emma rolls her eyes and walks away, if only to save herself from any more unwanted shivers or repressed feelings.

Their mission is to save Henry. Henry comes first and everything else has to wait.

"Well, what are we going to do once we're ashore?" David asks, hunched over the Neverland map spread across the desk in the Captain's cabin.

"Pan's camp is only a short distance from the Cove, remember?" Mary Margaret adds, the focused planner and adventurer that Emma has only seen glimpses of. "We can sneak up on him and—"

"Nope," Hook says from where he has planted himself in the corner, one boot crossed over the other and his arms crossed over his chest. "There's no way to sneak up on Pan."

Regina's eye roll is practically audible. "You keep saying that but offering no helpful advice."

"And you keep saying that but not actually listening to what I have to say."

"Hook is the one with the knowledge of the island, Regina," Emma reminds her.

"And I'm the one with the knowledge of magic, maybe we should just give that a try!"

"What are you suggesting?" Mary Margaret scoffs. " Poof ing yourself into the middle of a camp on a magic island you've never visited before?"

"What do you suggest, Hook?" David asks, if only to keep Mary Margaret and Regina from fighting. It's obvious that the last thing he wants to do is take advice from a pirate, but even David realizes that they are left with very few other options.

"There is no way to plan what is going to happen once we reach those shores. Everything we do, everywhere we go, Pan will know about it and will always be steps ahead of us."

"How have you spent all this time in this realm and not learned even a few tricks that could help us?"

"Most of my years here have been spent on this ship, provided with rations by the very demon himself. Before that, he and I had an agreement that made us more comrades than foes, and all the time I spent on the island was for his own doing."

"Oh, that's helpful," Regina mutters, leaving the cabin without another word.

"So, let me see if I understand this," Emma asks, knowing that neither David nor Mary Margaret will be able to be civil about this. "Your plan… is to not have a plan at all?"

Hook nods. "There is no other option in Neverland. It's Pan's game there, and he makes all the rules. Best we can do is be ready for whatever he throws at us."

"I don't like this," Mary Margaret mumbles, and David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to press a kiss against the top of her head.

"It's what we have to do to get Henry back, and that's all that matters," he says, a princely tone of finality in his voice, and the room falls silent.

"Can I ask you something, love?" Hook asks, his eyes leaving the horizon for just a moment to look at her (again, though she has only noticed a few of them) where she is sitting against the railing on the starboard side of the ship.

"I'm not your love," she bites, looking up from one of Hook's maps that she's borrowed from his quarters.

"I've had my share of run-ins with the Crocodile, and I've even crossed paths with the Evil Queen once or twice. The other two, that's Snow White, the princess, right? And her husband?"

"And how do you know that?"

He pauses, trying to chose his words carefully. He knows that if he says the wrong thing, he'll lose the small amount of ground he's made with them trusting him. "I've been… through an agreement with Pan, I can leave these waters every once in a while, as long as I fulfill some of the things he asks of me."

"You work with him," she says, but her face fails to give away any of what is going through her head.

"In a way, aye. But I've been to the Enchanted Forest, and I know what happened to it. How is it that you got here?"

"Well, there was a curse."

"Aye."

"And I — I broke the curse."

" You broke the curse?"

"Yeah, I — I'm the Savior , apparently, because I — I'm their daughter."

"Snow White's?" He's not nearly taken aback enough. "And the Prince."

She nods. So does he. Somehow he is wrapping his head around all of this much easier than she did. Maybe once you're alive for a few lifetimes, things like this are a lot less surprising than they were for Emma.

"How is it that you and the Evil Queen share the same son?"

Emma can't help but laugh. Where does she even start? "No offense, Hook, but it's a very long story that we don't really have time for."

"Aye, that I can understand." He lifts his hand off the helm to scratch his beard before moving his hand behind his ear and to the base of his neck. "But do you — you know — live together?"

"No, no, it's more like… joint custody."

"Come again?"

Right. "Joint custody," she says again, even though the centuries-old pirate knows nothing about the ins and outs of child custody. "We, uh… share him, I guess. Take turns."

"And what about the boy's father? Is he a part of this taking turns ?"

His question turns her blood to ice. Neal. Where does she even begin? For a moment, she's angry — at Neal, at herself. "No." How dare he. How dare Hook to even ask about Neal, he has no right —

He has no idea. It was an innocent enough question, there's no way he knew the still-gaping wound that a question about Neal would inflame.

"He's — dead."

"Apologies, love, I didn't mean to stir up any unwanted emotions."

"Stop calling me that."

"I'm afraid it's more of a habit than anything."

She has no response to this and turns her attention back towards the map.

"Bloody hell," Hook mumbles, though Emma and Smee, his first mate, are the only ones close enough to hear him. At first, they don't see whatever the problem may be, but as the ship continues to approach the shore, Emma sees him leaning against one of the trees just on the other side of the shore.

Pan. Emma can sense it somehow — her motherly instincts, maybe, or something like that, but she can feel that the man on the shore is Peter Pan.

No. No, not man. Boy , with a pudgy teenaged face and dark hair that falls down to his eyebrows.

"That's him," Emma says. She means for it to be a question, but it does not come out that way.

"Aye." She turns to him just in time to watch the edge of his jaw tick as he grinds his back teeth together. "That's the demon Pan."

For a moment, Emma is unsure how she feels about all this. Hook's plan to take them around the island has already taken hours of their precious time, and all under the guise to keep them from Pan — only to have him waiting for them right where Hook brought them to shore. What if Hook had been playing with them the whole time? Giving Pan time to plan ahead while he wasted time sailing them all around the island?

But then she looks at him again, sees the rage obvious on his face, and she almost feels bad for questioning his motive even though she has every right to.

"Bested us again," he mutters, but then straightens his back and looks out over the ship. "Prepare for docking!"

Pan watches, unmoving, from the shore as Hook and his crew lead the Jolly Roger to the dock — and, still unmoving, as they come ashore. Finally, he speaks. "Thank you for bringing our special guests ashore, Captain," the boy leers. "Good to see you're still good for something."

"You know I can't pass up the opportunity to give assistance to a damsel in distress, nonetheless three. And Dave." There's a joking tone in his voice, but it's not present anywhere else in his body.

"Ah, yes," Pan says, pushing himself away from the tree. "Welcome, your highnesses. I hope you find Neverland as welcoming as you have spent all those years hoping your Enchanted Forest would be. And you, Regina, you and I have more in common than you may want to believe."

Regina rolls her eyes, conjuring a fireball in her left hand. "Oh, please," she spits. "Let's do this the easy way: give me my son back and I won't burn your whole island down."

Pan just laughs. "No, I’m afraid that's not going to happen. You're on my island now, and you're going to play by my rules."

"Do you think this is a game?"

"Oh, your majesty , that's exactly what this is. So, Emma, I'm going to give you a map." He pulls a folded piece of parchment out from under his tunic. "A map that will lead you straight to your son."

"If this is some kind of trap," she starts, taking a step towards him with her hand on the sword on her hip.

But Pan's soft laugh stops her. "I may not be the most well-behaved boy on the island, but I always keep my promises. The path to finding Henry is on this parchment."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

He chuckles again. "See, it's not about finding Henry. It's about how you find him. And, Emma," he says, placing his hand on her wrist as she reaches out to take the parchment. "You're the only one who can."

She takes it from him, then unfolds it — only to find it blank, save a pattern around the outside. "It's blank."

"You sound surprised," Regina bites, but no one pays attention to her. All eyes are on Pan.

"You'll only be able to read that map when you stop denying who you really are."

Emma looks down at the map once more. Everyone around her looks at it.

And when they look up, Pan is gone.

As they follow Hook's lead through the jungle, Emma's focus is on the map. She thinks of all she can: her background, everything she's learned since coming to Storybrooke. She even attempts to admit that she's the savior during a short break, but nothing works.

Regina, angry and impatient and nothing if not motivated, takes it from her, insisting on magic, despite the arguments from the rest of the group. It works — to a point, leading them not to Pan's camp, but to an ambush by a group of Lost Boys. It does not last long, the heroes quickly overpowering the boys, but David gets nicked with a Dreamshade-tipped arrow — a secret he tries to keep from the rest of the camp.

Hook sees it, though, the one in the group that really knows how deadly the poison can be, but he, too, keeps it to himself.

He leads them away from the ambush, towards a cliff that looks out over most of the island. From there, he insists, they can plan a route through the jungle and maybe even scout out Pan's camp. But by the time they get there, the sun has set, and all they can see is shadow. "Now that you've seen what Pan can do in just a few short hours, we need our strength. I suggest we make camp."

Regina, unsurprisingly, is against his idea. "You want to sleep while my son is out there suffering?"

"If you want to live long enough to save the boy, yes," he argues, and no one has a comeback for this. Regina is first to walk away, huffing knowing that Hook is right. Hook is second, closely followed by David, who barks an order about finding firewood, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret looking out over the jungle.

They are silent for a moment, Emma obviously worrying about something, but Mary Margaret has learned not to push. And after a few moments, Emma does say what's on her mind:

"Regina's right, Henry's out there somewhere."

But Mary Margaret is ready with her positive comeback. "And Hook is right. We have to survive if we're going to get him."

"I know. I just hope we're not too late."

Mary Margaret leaves her there, knowing that sometimes, her daughter just needs her space to think. She stands there as the others build their camp, her attention turned once more towards the blank parchment — the map , removed from her pocket.

Though he does not mean to, Hook startles her with his approach. "I opted for first watch so you and the others could get your rest."

Emma just shakes her head, starting towards the campfire, needing the monotony of the crackling fire to slow her mind down. "There's no way I can sleep here without solving this map."

"Then it appears you and I will be not sleeping together, love," he jokes, waggling his eyebrows at her with a smirk on his face.

Emma just rolls her eyes. "Listen, Hook. I am here to save my son. The very last thing I'm going to do is get distracted."

His smirk is gone, not even a trace of a smile left on his features. "Of course, Swan. I meant no insult."

They sit in relative silence, the rest of them falling asleep quickly — or, at least, staying quiet. The sounds of the Jungle seem to grow louder in the darkness, almost deafening. But Emma's attention is still on the map.

"Nothing I can think of is working," she groans, dropping the map to the ground beneath her feet.

"None of those are what Pan is looking for. What have you been avoiding? What have you been hiding from, love?"

She is already on edge, and his endearment only makes her angrier. "I am not your love, Hook. Why are you helping me, anyway?"

He's been wondering the same, so he's quick to answer. "I've been searching for a glimmer of hope when it comes to defeating this demon for as long as I can remember. If finding your lad and ruining his plans takes his power from him, then helping you is the very least I can do."

"But why? What did Pan ever do to you?"

He's silent for a moment, trying to decide how much he wants to divulge to her, and he maks a quick decision. "It wasn't me personally," he lies. "But it's the principle of the thing. He preys on boys who think he's taking them to a better life, but all he's doing is taking them from their families. Growing up alone is the worst thing that could happen to a boy, and Pan thrives on separating families."

"Sounds like something you know a lot about." She doesn't mean to be so forward, but once it's out, there's No taking it back.

"Pardon?"

"Only someone who grew up alone would talk like that."

Now it's his turn to get defensive. "And how would you know that? You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. What can a princess know about growing up alone?"

She knows that there is no way for him to know otherwise, to know the truth about her childhood, but his assumptions about her still make her a little angry. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she grits, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. "My parents sent me through a portal when I was only a few hours old. I grew up alone , spent my whole life alone . I was an orphan, too, Hook. Or, at least, I grew up believing I was."

"I'm — I'm sorry, Swan, I shouldn't have assumed—"

"No, you shouldn't have."

"You're right though, love. I, too, spent much of my life alone. My mum was sick and passed when I was a boy, and my father took my brother and I on a ship to a far-off land. Until one day, we woke up and he was gone. He left us there to settle a debt and we never saw him again."

Silence settles between them for a moment, and then he smiles. "It seems you and I have quite a lot in common, then, love," he chides, but Emma barely hears him. She's too distracted by the parchment in her hand, which has revealed a map at some point in their conversation.

"Hook—" she tries, but he cuts her off.

"Apologies, I know, you're not my love ."

"No, Hook, that's not it."

Finally he looks at her, trying to find what she is talking about on her face, following her eyes down to the parchment in her hands. But there is something else that has changed, too, something about her . He can't quite put his finger on it, but he thinks he maybe sees a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

#csnlny #captain swan #neverland new year #my writing #cs fics #ouat #neverland rewrite #really just a bunch of headcanons in one little story

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