#also all the promo shots of him have him in this ridiculous dramatic lighting and he still doesn't even come CLOSE

[occasionallynotwatchingroger]

I’m sorry who the fuck cast this guy as Kirk

Had they ever seen TOS

Had they ever seen a screen grab from TOS

Had they ever heard mention of Captain Kirk

Had they seen a photo of Bill Shatner in his youth

Who the fuck thought that this limp handkerchief

Could pass for this man?

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Cold as Stone”

I originally wrote this less than a week before "Once" returned for season four. The show didn’t go this way with the Snow Queen arc, but I couldn't get how heart wrenching and dramatic it would be out of my mind, so I had to give this a shot.  In a way, I’m almost glad it didn’t go in this vein (though it would have been more true to the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale) because it would have HURT to watch... All the same, I’m still pretty fond of this three shot, so if you’ve never seen it before on my ff.net, now it’s here on Tumblr and also on AO3.

"Cold as Stone"

by: @snowbellewells​

i.

She should have known something was wrong the first time he didn't answer her call.

True, he was a one-handed, 300-year-old pirate to whom cellular technology was quite the foreign concept, more than a bit tricky to master, and strangely off-putting for one so fond of hearing his own voice – Emma Swan smirked to herself at that one – but Henry had gladly taken to showing him how the "blasted contraption", as Killian referred to it, was operated and the many things it could do. When Captain Hook had finally cottoned on to the fact that he could speak to her – and ask her questions, annoy her, lob unending innuendos at her – even when they were apart, his protests against his own cell phone had ceased.

Since then, he had never failed to answer the phone for her calls – often before it could even reach a second ring. The fact that she had called him half a dozen times in the last three hours with no response or call back, and that David hadn't seen him either, was not lost on Emma. She hated that she had tried him so many times, that she was frantic to find him, and that the panic was churning in her stomach as she slammed back out of Granny's – the last in her line of Killian's haunts where he was nowhere to be found. She did not want to be that needy type of girl she had always despised. Yet she couldn't let it go. At that point, she sensed something wrong – simply felt it in the same way that one senses she is being snuck up on from behind or that a storm is coming even before the first rumble of thunder.

The brisk bite to the air as she plowed down the street again only worsened the chill of foreboding in her gut. It might have been autumn in New England, but it was downright icy, and much too cold for September. She tried to bury her chin into the collar of her coat and think of another place to look for her erstwhile pirate, when right up ahead of her on the street, Killian Jones himself strolled around the corner of the building – leisurely, unconcerned – and not at all appearing to be looking for her.

Emma stormed toward him, feeling as though there might be actual steam pouring from her ears. She was so ridiculously worried about him – thinking some new baddie had come out of the woodwork and taken him as their first victim, that he had electrocuted himself by getting his hook caught in the toaster, or that he had been hurt, or lost… She wanted to smack him upside the head for making her so crazy, or handcuff him to her so he couldn't disappear on her again. It would serve him right for standing there looking so smug, so unfairly gorgeous, and as if he had not a care in the world.

"Something I can do for you, Lass?" he asked blithely, a devilish smirk quirking his lips. "You're staring."

It was only then that Emma realized there was something strangely off about her sailor. His voice and manner were as effortlessly flirtatious as ever, but the light in his smile was absent. The love and concern behind the play, the things that made him her Killian as well as the consummate pirate rogue, were somehow missing. While his ocean eyes usually reminded her of flames hot enough to burn blue, now they were crystalline shards of ice. A stranger was looking back at her from behind them. Emma's breath caught, and she stumbled backward as if she had been struck in the chest.

He looked at her with puzzled curiosity, but not the immediate desire to help or make it better that she had finally come to depend on from him. It was Killian…and yet, it wasn’t him at all. "Should I know you, Darling?" he said harmlessly. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

And that did it; she shook her head blindly as tears began to fall, already freezing on her cheeks in the cold, while she pressed her hand against her mouth to hold back the cry of anguish.

Yes, she should have known something was wrong, but how could she have imagined this? Her True Love was standing right in front of her…but he no longer knew her at all.

ii.

Emma stood frozen to her spot until David came squealing up in his truck, peeling in behind where she had parked the cruiser. She had not moved or hardly breathed since Killian walked away. He had disappeared down the street again when she was unable to speak around the panic and hurt rising in her and clawing up her throat. Seemingly oblivious to her distress, or even unconcerned, which was so unlike him it made the trauma worse, he had headed off, bidding her farewell and turning his back without another glance.

"Emma!" David's voice was taut and intense as he ran up to her, seeing the expression on her face and immediately pulling her into his arms. He could see that she was not in physical danger, but that something had struck her hard; whatever had happened, the damage was already done. "What is it?! Did you find Hook?"

The dam against her emotions broke at his words, and Emma leaned into her father's strength, crying on his shoulder as she had never been able to do growing up. He shushed her hiccupping sobs, cradled the back of her head in his hand and swayed them both from side to side soothingly. Gradually, Emma brought herself back under control and pulled away, wiping the tears from her face and still sniffling, but aware once more that they were in the middle of the street and she was falling apart. This letting people in allowed her to feel so much more than she used to, but at that moment it was coming back to bite her, and she wasn't sure what to do with the empty, brittle ache in her chest and the shocked disbelief at what had just happened.

Her dad wanted answers, and Emma could tell it was taking every bit of his restraint not to press her for details. Finally, she drew enough of a steadying breath to nod and try to fill him in. "He was here," she confirmed, then faltered, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood in order not to cry again. She had done enough of that already to last her another decade, "but it – it wasn't really him."

She shook her head, knowing that couldn't make much sense, but not sure how else to put what she had experienced into words. Something had happened to her pirate, and she wasn't sure if they could right the wrong. She only knew she had to think of something. Unless…unless he really had put up with enough, gotten tired of waiting on her, of taking it slow, reassuring her at every turn, and …he truly intended to walk away –just as she had always feared he would.

David couldn't actually know her thoughts, but it seemed he read his daughter's mood just then, grasping Emma's arm to brace her and interrupt her torturous train of thought. "Emma, honey, you aren't making sense. Just take me back through what happened. What do you mean, he was here, but it wasn't him?"

Managing at last to shake her head clear and focus, Emma told herself that it was something more than her pirate changing his mind. Killian would not simply forget the feelings he had professed for her and leave. That gave her enough momentum to snap back to business. Taking a moment to square her shoulders and meet David's eye, she reiterated, "It was him…but he didn't seem to know me at all. There was no feeling there…no hint that he recognized me or felt what we are to each other."

David reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but didn't immediately try to coddle or brightly reassure her – for which Emma was grateful. This was not okay, and no amount of well-meant but empty words would change that.

"He was just so cold," Emma continued, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper and almost carrying away on the frigid breeze. "It was like he had completely forgotten he loves me, and I was nobody special to him at all." She pursed her lips and looked away, partially scanning the near distance for anything amiss, and partly just to avoid her father's knowing gaze. She didn't want to make him feel any guiltier than he already did for how alone in the world she had been, how many times she had been hurt and betrayed, and just how easy it was for her to believe a loved one could turn his back and abandon her.

The Prince's steady voice pulled her back and helped brace her. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'm going to call Regina. We'll see if she has any knowledge of a curse that makes one forget or alters personality. I know we've discussed this before, but I still can't help thinking this is all related to whoever or whatever is causing the drastic shift in weather. We know it isn't Elsa – she's really coming along on her control with Regina tutoring her – but that doesn't mean some other newcomer hasn't snuck in while we were distracted."

Emma gave him a curt nod of agreement before adding wryly, "Better you than me. Ever since the whole fiasco with Robin and Marian, Regina's barely civil to me, even when Henry's present. Otherwise, she pretty much pretends I don't exist."

Her dad gave her a grim half-smile, hand on her shoulder as he held her gaze. "It will work out, Emma. Somehow, it will work out."

She rolled her eyes, but managed to smirk back before retorting, "You and Mom are both ridiculously hopeful. You know that, right?"

"Comes with who we are."

She snorted inelegantly, but managed a nod.

"In all seriousness," Charming said, sobering again, and using the 'dad' voice that let her know how in earnest he was. "I once had to hear Snow tell me she didn't love me, that I meant nothing to her, and watch her turn her back on me. I almost gave up on us, until I was reminded how priceless what we share truly is and made the decision to keep fighting for True Love. I'll admit I had my doubts about Hook at first – he is a pirate – but I can tell you now, I haven't seen someone as in love with a woman as he is with you in a long time. Don't let yourself doubt that. There is more going on here than we know."

His words did their job, though Emma found herself trying to blink back tears again. "Okay," she whispered, "I'll try to borrow a little of your faith."

She was heading back towards the cruiser awaiting what David would find out from his call to Regina before she went out on patrol and tried to figure where she might find Killian, when Ruby came bustling out of the diner and made a beeline for her.

"Didn't I see Hook out here with you a minute ago?" she asked breathlessly, an artfully sculpted brow arched in confusion. "He practically left a standing order for one of these anytime he comes by," she added by way of explanation and pressed a warm to-go cup into Emma's hand.

"He – he was here," Emma stated obviously, a bit dumbfounded by Ruby's usual quick exuberance. "I'm not sure where he went though. …What is this?"

"Hot Caramel Apple Cider," Ruby supplied with a fond grin tilting her red lips. "He was in here a week or so ago, getting coffee for you, David, and himself at the station. He overheard Henry and Grace ordering them, and he was curious, so he tried one. Then I think he ended up having two more. Said it was the best drink he'd encountered since his first taste of rum. Pretty adorable really."

Emma returned Ruby's playful grin, in spite of all the other thoughts whirling in her mind. "Yup," she added with a gleam of mischief fleeting through her otherwise tense expression. "The dread pirate Captain Hook has quite a sweet tooth." Emma's heart panged at the sense of familiarity she had come to feel with her pirate, and Ruby leaned forward; either the she-wolf's sixth sense had allowed her to pick up on something, or she had caught some trace of how Emma's face must have fallen at wondering if their True Love connection was gone.

David had just hung up the phone saying, "Okay, I'll tell her," and started back toward them, when the ache in Emma's chest suddenly intensified tenfold, doubling her over. Crying out at the abrupt, slicing pain, she clutched at her heart.

Ruby stepped closer to support her when she stumbled, and David rushed back to her side, crying out in alarm, but Emma could hardly tell what was going on around her. Her vision narrowed and her surroundings faded out, to the point that her only focus was the throbbing sensation in her chest. She almost went to her knees, gasping for breath, then the sensation ebbed a bit and she opened her eyes to see David and Ruby surrounding her worriedly.

She was about to take their offered hands and let them pull her to her feet when she was nearly crushed by the memory that invaded her thoughts. In Henry's book, she had read the story of Snow White taking the poisoned apple from Regina and eating it willingly to save Charming's life. More than that though, she remembered how miles away and unaware of what was happening, in the dungeon cell of Regina's prison, Charming had felt the life leave his True Love and fallen to the cold, hard floor, clutching his chest as if he himself had been the one cursed.

Panic replaced the hurt and indecision Emma had felt previously as she grabbed her father's forearms in a desperate grip and choked out her fears. If she and Killian were the same, if they were True Loves as well, something horrible had just happened. No matter what he felt or remembered; he had just been struck a fatal blow. She had to get to him, no matter what happened after.

~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0~~0

Killian Jones came back to himself as if from some hypnotic daze. Glancing around, he realized that he had no idea where he was or how he had reached his current location. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was in some sort of gigantic snow fort, so vast he couldn’t even see the far wall. He only knew that behind him rose a pristine, flawless partition of freezing white. He shivered on reflex, before realizing that he was almost beyond sensation. He knew he must be cold; he was only wearing his open-necked black shirt and leather vest and duster. Yet, though common sense would insist he should be freezing, he honestly felt nothing at all.

It was troubling enough that his natural curiosity was overridden by the immediate desire to get out and get back to town. His thoughts were fuzzy and sluggish at best, but he knew there were people there who would surely explain to him what was going on; in fact, yes, there was one in particular… A flash of golden tresses and crackling green eyes darted through his mind and escaped again before it could solidify or he could put a name to the vision, but he knew. His lass…his love…he needed to get back to her…

Striding forward, he was nearly thrown back when he smacked into a solid barrier of ice. It had been completely transparent and invisible until he touched it, and Killian reached out, disbelieving, until his fingers slid along the glassy face of the obstruction. "What bloody sorcery is this?!" he swore to himself, pushing against the wall only to find that it would not budge in the slightest. He took two steps back, then bodily threw himself against the blockade, but it did not good. Not even a crack appeared. Growing desperate, the pirate began to pace his crystal prison, seeking another way out and growing more angry and frantic by the moment. She was worried about him; he could tell. He needed to reach her, whoever she was, and he needed to get out of this white fortress. He did not know how he had ended up here in the first place, but it was unnatural and he wanted no more of it.

He swung his hook forward, hoping to stab the metal tip in deep enough to shatter the sheet of ice, or at least put a crack in the surface, but it merely gouged in and stuck. Killian was struggling to free his metal appendage when an eerie, trilling laugh blew past him on the wind. Looking left and right, he still saw no one, but a strange, disembodied female voice followed the laughter. "My my," the ghostly speech lilted, "aren't you a bit anxious to leave? You're such a handsome one…I think I might keep you a bit longer."

Killian's face twisted in anger and he growled, freeing his hook at last and brandishing it in front of him, though he had no way of knowing where the mysterious being was speaking from. "Show yourself, demon," he challenged. "I'm not a toy or plaything. Let me out of your magic cave."

The strangely light, frighteningly cheery laughter sounded again, tinkling in his ears like icicles against the surface of a frozen lake. "Oh no, I think not," the female tone assured him. "It's been much too long since I've had visitors. We're going to have bit more fun."

Steeling himself for whatever attack must be coming, Killian still saw no visible sign of his captor. He had just relaxed slightly, thinking perhaps she had left him alone again to brood on his fate, when a sudden chill ran down his spine, and ice shards and snow began to whirl in a miniature storm all around him, striking at every bit of his exposed skin. Looking down, he was aghast to see a large, deadly-looking splinter of solid ice impossibly stabbing right through leather, skin and bone into his heart. A paralyzing pain invaded his chest as the wicked spike disappeared within right before his eyes. Numbness set in after the pain, until a second, throbbing ache pulsed through his being, this one distant, almost out of body, but no less debilitating.

His vision began to darken; suddenly the haze that had surrounded him thawed. No longer numb, he was so bitterly cold that he knew he must be dying. He fell against the wall, going helplessly motionless as ice seemed to overtake his body inch by horrible inch, encasing him and freezing over his skin, stealing breath and warmth. One last thought burst through before he went mercifully unaware – one last shot of warmth. Emma, his mind screamed, reminding him who he had needed to get back to, who the second stroke of pain must have belonged to…his True Love. Her name is Emma.

But then there was nothing.

So, here is the final installment of this three-parter. Maybe I should have shared a bit of this sooner, not knowing how familiar many are with Andersen's "The Snow Queen".  In that fairy tale, there are two children, Kay and Gerda, who have always been each other's best companions and are probably even in love with each other, but don't know it yet because they are so young. Anyway, a piece of glass (for the purposes of this story, I'm going to use ice) gets into Kay's eye and distorts his vision, and eventually even his thoughts and feelings. Everything he loved and cared about means nothing to him, including little Gerda. He then encounters the Snow Queen, who, because of his numbed heart, is able to lure him away with her to her castle of ice and snow. He doesn't even remember his previous loved ones or friends to miss them. Then Gerda sets off to find him and get him back. Obviously, I've taken my own liberties with it, but that's the basic idea that got this story running.

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think. I still don't own any of the "Once" characters, nor Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale.

iii.

The pain in Emma's chest had subsided to a dull throb, but she found that her hand kept absently coming up to press against the area as they conferred together and put a plan into action. From David's conversation over the phone with Regina, they at least had a starting point, if nothing else. Apparently, the day before, the mayor and her young princess protégé had been out in the woods, where they had been conducting lessons to harness Elsa's magic, and Regina had thought that something seemed different in the landscape north of the forest's edge. There had always been some hills in the distance a few miles off in that direction, but she had never noticed them looking so large and foreboding before. In fact, one had almost resembled a mountain of ice and snow. She had intended to go back out and investigate, but did not think it wise then, with Elsa in tow, as unstable as the poor young woman's powers were.

It could have nothing to do with Killian's unfathomable behavior, where he had gone, or what had happened to him, but it was all they had to go on. In Emma's experience with Storybrooke and magic, when something odd was going on, it all generally ended up being connected. Her pirate wasn't anywhere else nearby, and she couldn't stand around waiting if the pain that had nearly toppled her had only been an echo of what he had felt. He needed her, and she was not going to fail him. There had been so many times when she was blind to all that Killian had done for her; he had given and sacrificed, patiently waiting for her to see the light and accept the love he had offered her. She often felt in the time since they'd become a couple that she could never repay him, could never express what she felt as he so freely did for her.

Oh, she loved him; she had known that for much longer than she was willing to admit. What was harder was actually telling him so. Confessing that she needed Killian Jones in her life forever, that she would crumble if he left her now, was daunting – and, for Emma – a sight more terrifying than fighting a dragon or facing Peter Pan himself head on. Killian deserved to know his love was fully returned and that he finally had her trust and her whole heart. Yet, though she could sometimes see the wistful need in his eyes, he had never pushed her for the words. She stumbled over them when she attempted it, and stuttered into silence when she tried to tell him how she truly felt. Eventually, Killian would save her from her own floundering, kissing her lips until her babble stopped, and he would assure her that whatever it was she was trying to say, he would wait until she was able to tell him. He wasn't going anywhere.

'You promised me,' she whispered to herself, scrunching her eyes closed and picturing that adoring, perfect face. She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest once more, putting pressure against the dull ache.

She was not waiting around for Regina to come check this out – even if the assistance of the queen's power and experience would make it a much safer and smarter venture. She needed to move – to find Killian now – and she knew Regina would be in no hurry to help her save her pirate and return their happy ending, not when Emma had unknowingly ruined Regina's own second chance. Instead, once all that info had been relayed, she headed for the cruiser, jerked the door open, and was about to head out to that edge of the woods without another moment's thought.

"Emma, wait!" David called. "I'm going with you. There's more…"

"You'd better not think you're leaving me!" Ruby added, coming up beside her dad.

"Guys, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm flying blind here. This has to be dark magic, and I'm sure I should be waiting for Regina's back-up. I don't want anyone else getting hurt for my impatience."

She had known it wouldn't help, but Emma still sighed when David slid into the passenger seat and Ruby scrambled in back.

"Too bad," her father said in a voice that brooked no argument, "you're getting our help anyway."

As they pulled out onto the street and started out of town, Emma listened anxiously to the rest of the information David had gathered from Regina. "She didn't know all the details," he was relating, "but she knew there were many other spells and methods for cursing hearts. She had always seen her mother remove hearts and keep or crush them, which was what Rumple then taught her as well. However, there were rumors in our old land, before she cast the curse that took us all away, of a new queen gaining power in the far north – one that could freeze hearts."

Emma chanced a quick, sidelong glance at her father upon hearing those words, a little gasp escaping her as she pictured again how cold and unfeeling Killian's expression had been in a face that was usually so warm and inviting. "Freeze them?" she questioned. "My common sense wants to ask how that wouldn't kill a person, but I know by now that doesn't really mean much around here."

Ruby let out a tense giggle in the backseat and agreed with her sardonically. "You've got that right for sure. If everyone in Storybrooke were subject to natural injury or aging, there wouldn't be many of us left."

Emma gave Ruby a smirk in the rearview mirror, then turned her attention back to her father. "Know anything else about this Ice Queen?"

David gave a terse nod and continued. "According to Regina, rumors had reached her of people in that area going missing and then reappearing, but treating their loved ones as strangers upon their return. They seemed devoid of feeling or previous connection, but otherwise themselves. It had caused enough of a stir that Regina commented she would have gone to check it out and let this being know who was truly in charge in the realm – if she had been planning to stay. However, she was days from enacting the Dark Curse, so she didn't waste much thought on it, or find out how the thing was being done."

"As per usual," Emma commented, frustrated and feeling no more equipped for what they might be about to face, "if it didn't help her personal agenda, it didn't matter."

By this time, they had reached where the road trailed away at the edge of the woods. Beyond that, the terrain got rougher, the trees thicker, and the road simply carried on no further. Parking and turning off the key in the ignition, Emma drew in a deep, steadying breath, trying to prepare herself and convince her own mind that she knew what she was about to plunge them into. She really had no idea, and for probably the hundredth time since she had begun actively trying to use her light magic, she felt woefully unprepared and inadequate. Trying not to show any of her reservations visibly, she squared her shoulders, stepped out of the cruiser, and looked at her two compatriots hopefully. "Ready?"

"You bet," Ruby nodded, her eyes fierce and stance determined.

"Right beside you," David affirmed seriously.

Emma started forward with a nod at their answers. Though she dreaded taking either of them into a trap with her, or getting either of them hurt if she failed, it was reassuring not to be alone. Pushing her way through the last of the undergrowth and out of the last stand of the tree line, Emma was pulled up short by the sight that met her eyes.

It was like a mountain had grown at their borders overnight. Craning her neck, Emma realized that the white fortress rising in front of her disappeared into the clouds before the top even became visible. David and Ruby tramped up on either side of her and let out similar breathless exclamations of shock as well.

Eerie as it was, Emma now had the distinct feeling that this was right where they needed to be. How or why, she wasn't sure, but this was where she should be to get Killian back; she felt it in the rising hairs along the nape of her neck and the twist in her gut, just as she had felt something wrong that morning when Killian had not answered his phone. This could be their freakin' Snow Queen's palace for all she cared, Emma was going in.

She rested her hand on her gun for reassurance and plunged forward, starting out across a snowy clearing, when she realized David and Ruby were no longer at her sides. Turning, she was stunned and struck with confused apprehension to see that her father and her friend were several feet behind her, pushing against some sort of invisible barrier, unable to come any further forward. Whatever the strange force was, it had not stopped Emma. She hadn't even noticed it, but as she retraced her steps to them, she found that she was now kept within its edges. Though completely transparent, it was as hard and solid as any physical wall, separating her from the other two.

Watching tensely, Emma could see that neither David nor Ruby were hurt or in any distress, other than her father seeming nearly beside himself at being kept from coming to her aid. He was speaking to her, but the sound was muffled by the strange barrier, and she could make out no distinct words, only a garbled murmur that vaguely matched the movement of his lips.

It was just as well; she could tell by his expression that David was telling her to wait, to use her magic to get back to them and regroup; at any rate, Emma knew her father didn't want her continuing on alone. A quick glance at Ruby though, showed Emma that the other woman already knew what she intended to do. There was a calm look of acceptance and understanding on her friend's face that centered Emma and helped steel her resolve. She couldn't wait any longer; she had to get to Killian. Ruby would be with David. He would do the same thing himself if it were Snow in danger. Once he calmed down, David would have to admit that.

Shaking her head and trying to give her father an apologetic look, Emma turned her back and resolutely started toward the gigantic white structure again. It didn't take long to cross the snowy stretch of clearing and reach the foot of the mound, which she could now see resembled a rough sort of citadel, like some giant child had begun a snow fort and then abandoned the task. Looking back, Emma could barely make out David and Ruby, or even the outline of her cruiser, any longer; it seemed instead that she was the only living being now encased in a silent, empty world of white. Tilting her head back, Emma could see how this pristine, glittering edifice towered over her and all the surrounding landscape. It was as if the temperature dropped another twenty degrees at the sheer immensity facing her, and Emma shivered, feeling dwarfed by her own uncertainty and reservations.

She studied the daunting view a moment longer, and it was then that she discovered a fissure a bit to the left of where she stood, appearing just wide enough that she could squeeze through and into the interior of the structure. Squaring her shoulders, and setting her resolve, Emma pictured Killian's smile, his dedication, and the feel of her hand held warm and safe in his larger one, then she plunged in, trying not to think about what might go wrong and focus on the possibility of finding him.

The moment she stepped through the passage and into the frigid cave-like interior, Emma sensed there was no going back; she could feel a sort of tension, a heavy waiting in the air. Darkness closed in as the outside light was blocked, and she squinted, trying to see a way forward. The chill almost stole her breath, and Emma clutched her arms around her torso, attempting to hold in any bit of heat she could, but she wasn't changing course. Her hair stood on end as she debated which way to go; something told her that Killian was there.

She hadn't been long, letting her eyes adjust and straining to see something, anything, that gave her a clue where to go next, when a strange, tinkling, like the glass pieces of a wind chime, reached her ears. Nothing became visible, but an oddly bright, disturbingly playful voice filled the interior of the arctic room and ran shivers down her spine.

"Hello," the spritely, feminine voice trilled, setting Emma's teeth on edge and sounding all too pleased with itself. "So you're the Savior I've heard so much about. We've been waiting for you."

There was a frigid little laugh, humored but brittle enough to shatter easily. Emma was not amused, and the steel in her voice showed it when she replied. "We? Who do you mean? If you're talking about Killian, you had better believe I'm not leaving here without him."

"We shall see…but at least now you will have to play fair. Sorry to block your little helpers, Savior, but I only wanted you."

Shaking her head in disgust, Emma stopped treating with the disembodied voice, as its owner continued to remain invisible and gave the distinct impression of toying with her. She only hoped that her pirate had not already paid a price he wouldn't recover from in the plot to draw her here.

As if her thoughts had been read, enough light to lead her eyes to the opposite wall filtered through the open, cavernous space. "Oh alright, see to your lovely captain. I don't think he will want to leave me, but you can find out for yourself…" Demented little giggles echoed through the air, rebounding sickeningly in Emma's head.

Then, she spotted Killian at last, standing motionless, and she ran to him with a strangled cry before giving another thought. She never even paused or drew a breath until she reached him, finally face to face with her sailor again. However, as soon as she got close, her throat constricted with panic and horror at the sight. Tears that she would not give the unseen witch the pleasure of seeing her shed prickled at the corners of her eyes on taking in Killian's shocking appearance.

While he had appeared fine (other than not knowing her) when she had approached him in town not long ago, Killian now seemed a lifeless statue before her. Emma could not stop the emotion that welled up in her chest as she reached out a hand to touch her love and found his skin chilled, glacially cold, with no rise and fall of air in his chest, not a flicker of life in that lively, beguiling face, no lean into her touch that she had come to adore. It frightened her how the cold seemed to radiate from within, his brow frozen in a defiant but worried tilt, and the blue tinge of Killian's skin. Frost tipped his black hair, making him appear fragile and gray, as old as he truly was.

Emma ignored the frosty bite to her fingers and laid her hand over Killian's cheek, trying to convey that she was there for him, to comfort him, to warm. Though there was no response, she prayed he was aware, that he felt her beside him somehow. He couldn't be…gone. He just couldn't. They had come too far to have their chance at happiness stolen from them now.

"What did you do to him?!" she yelled at the malevolent being who still refused to show her face. Anger flared within Emma, bringing a crackling warmth under her skin against the frigid air. For a moment, she didn't even care if the magic she conjured against this foe was light or dark, and sparks crackled at her fingertips in anticipation of a fight.

"Oh, you don't like him that way?" the enchantress pouted coyly, completely unconcerned with Emma's mounting turmoil. "Pity, because I don't think you will be able to do anything about it. Besides, I like him this way – my own lovely little trophy."

"Why?" Emma gritted out, trying to balance between the rage she felt simmering within her at this villainess and the bile rising in her throat at Hook's still form, which she protectively moved in front of, whether or not it was too late. "What did he ever do to you to deserve this?"

"Oh!" the voice exclaimed, then grew noticeably more malicious than it had yet been. "No, no, dear, you're mistaken. The Captain didn't do anything. He were merely handy, certainly easy on the eyes which makes this all the more delicious, but mostly he was my surest way to get to you. I am the Snow Queen. And now that I am here, the Land Without Magic will be mine – just as the far reaches of the realm your perfect parents and the Evil Queen left behind became mine. It was easy to discover that you are the one who could stand in my way, so I needed you debilitated. One can see clearly that whatever small bits of your shriveled, battered heart still work belong to him. Poor man. It was almost too easy. A well-placed story that your 'motor vehicle' had broken down at the town line, leaving you stranded in this unnaturally cold weather, and he walked right into my grasp." The chortling in that light, airy voice made Emma want to scream; she was sure she could have produced a Regina-worthy fireball to fling at this rival's face, if only she would show herself.

"Why didn't you just come after me?" Emma finally asked, dread filling her that maybe Killian was permanently lost to her and it was all her fault. He had charged right into a trap in his infinite concern for her, and she had been the reason he was targeted in the first place.

"Because…as untapped as it may be, your light magic is powerful…and fueled by love. Rather than take my chances fighting you, it seemed easier to weaken you at the source…your True Love."

Emma gasped in spite of herself. She had thought it many times, come to believe it deep within her soul, but never had the words been uttered aloud. Were she and Killian?…Could it be true? If so, then…

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast," the voice tittered. "It won't be that simple. I froze his heart before I froze the rest of him. A kiss won't fix it, because his heart is no longer capable of feeling. The ice within prevents it."

"So what's your plan? Freeze me too and take over the world?" Emma shot back bitterly.

"After I watch you fruitlessly try to restore your love and bask for a moment in my triumph," the Snow Queen continued, voice going deadly calm and intent, "that is exactly what I mean to do. Without the pirate's steadfast faith to back you, you cannot do a thing to stop me."

Emma turned helplessly to face Killian once more, indeed feeling the strength seep out of her at the thought of him no longer caring, no longer existing at all. She studied his unseeing blue eyes and tried to will him to life again. Burying her face in his chest, now hard as literal rock, she let her silent tears flow unabated at last. She was too late; it was all for nothing. Sobs shook her frame as she clung to him, defeated but unwilling – unable – to let him go. He had fought so hard for her, to bring her back, and now… It would have terrified her at any other time to be falling apart this way, the sheer force with which her tears poured forth and how the warm drops soaked his shirt beneath the stiff, frozen leather of his outer coat.

"Killian," she pleaded quietly, not wanting the psychotic witch still laughing with glee behind him to hear. "Please, Killian. Can you hear me? Come back to me…" Emma pressed her face right up against the spot beneath which his heart resided. She tenderly placed a kiss against the chilled skin there, and suddenly realized that, though wet with the traces of her weeping, it was less frozen than the rest of him, and still warming under her touch, thawed by her tears.

Afraid to make a sound and give the Snow Queen a hint of what was happening, Emma kept her face buried against Killian, running her fingers up to stroke through his icy hair, feeling its strands soften again to their normal texture. She kept her eyes carefully hidden, knowing that the spark of hope kindling in them would give her away. The tears still flowed from her unchecked, doing their job, and she could feel his body returning to life under her fingers as she held him to her tightly. Endeavoring to hide his restoration for as long as possible under the pretext of saying her final goodbye, Emma instead moved in close to soothe Killian when he finally regained awareness – knowing he would be immediately confused and on the alert.

Sure enough, only moments later, Emma felt her pirate's muscles jerk and then clench, his lungs sucking in a desperate heave of fresh air, before his eyes quickly flew to meet hers. "Emma, love, what is it? Are you alright?" he asked with enough love and fear for her in his voice to assure Emma that his heart was once again properly his own.

Blinking back the last of her tears, at least for the moment, she only murmured, "I'm about to be," before surging up to mesh her lips with his desperately, passionately, and with everything she felt for him, even what she had never before managed to say.

He let out a surprised little grunt, and her momentum pushed him back into the wall of snow behind them, caught off guard and still trying to catch up to where he was and what was happening. Nevertheless, his arms immediately wrapped around her and his lips fused with hers gladly, drawing her closer and blessedly kissing her back.

A bracing wind whipped up, whirling around them, snatching Emma's hair and Killian's coat, flapping them wildly; bright light pulsed from where they were locked in an embrace and spread out to illuminate every recess of their enemy's fortress. The Snow Queen howled in rage and hatred. "How have you done this?!" she demanded, the voice no longer light but haggard and raw, scraping desperately in thwarted evil. "It should have been impossible!"

Despite her villainous railing, despite the howl of the wind and the crash of falling chunks of the icy ceiling. The rumbling and tremors of the ground beneath their feet shook them, but nothing could pull Emma and Killian apart now that they were reunited. He clung to her every bit as desperately as she did to him, until suddenly the rattling and reverberations became so violent that they threw Emma into him again, and they were both nearly knocked off their feet.

Pulling away from each other reluctantly at the anguished final wail of the Snow Queen, Emma realized that their foe appeared to be vanquished, gone, and that her lair was falling down around them. Killian pulled at her hand, urging Emma from her shocked stupor and into motion. "Come, Love, we have to get out of here."

At the Snow Queen's defeat, the ice and snow of the chamber walls were literally melting, shrinking as their materials streamed in rivers to the ground. Fleeing his collapsing prison, slipping and sliding, Killian deftly pushed Emma out in front of him the way she had entered, and squeezed through on her heels, just before the opening itself liquefied and dissolved. They could both hear the crushing slough of ice and frost-filled water pouring and cascading down behind them, gushing like a river freed of its dam.

Even running their fastest, Killian and Emma were picked up in the torrent and carried along on the stream across the empty space she had traversed alone not an hour before, until they were deposited, soaked and panting, their relief and flagging adrenaline so great they were laughing in near hysteria, at David and Ruby's shocked feet. Eyes wide, the prince and the werewolf helped both of them to their feet, beyond relieved after having seen Emma disappear into the snow fortress, heard the screeching of their enemy, then helplessly watched the whole mountain start to topple before the princess and pirate had reappeared.

"Are you alright?" her father asked more quietly after stopping his barrage of questions to breathe. He smoothed her sodden hair back from where it was matted to her forehead and tried to peer deep into her eyes, as if expecting her to deflect or put him off.

Emma met his gaze with a gentle smile, then reached for Killian's hand, knowing she would find it there, and twined his fingers with her own. "A warm bath wouldn't hurt either one of us, I'm sure," she joked wryly. Then, with the seriousness of a vow, she added, making sure Killian could see the truth in her eyes, and that it was only because he was returned to her, "But we're going to be fine now."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

A few days later, Killian Jones stood outside the sheriff's station, waiting for Emma to finish her shift. With his arms crossed, leaning against the side of his love's little yellow Bug, he looked the picture of calm, but in truth the reformed rogue was deep in thought. He and Emma were due for their several-times-delayed first date meal within the hour. He was dressed in her world's modern garb for the occasion, a surprise he had managed to carry out for her with the help of Henry and Dave, and though he was not at all sure what he thought of the feel and practicality of the charcoal grey slacks, navy blue shirt and grey vest he was wearing instead of his accustomed black leather, he tried to focus on the amused and affectionate twinkle he hoped to see in Emma's eyes once she glimpsed his effort.

Emma. His heart squeezed at the thought of the danger she had put herself in to rescue her, and at the pain in her eyes when she had gazed at him once they were home again safe and sound, both bathed and warmed in sweats and cuddled under blankets on her parents' couch, with Snow fussing over them and bringing hot cocoa. ‘You didn't know me,’ she had whispered, burrowing into his side and avoiding his eyes as she continued brokenly. ‘I had never told you what you meant to me, and it was almost too late. I was nothing to you. You would have walked away from me like everyone else.’

She had not been blaming him. In fact, he got the distinct impression that she had been heaping judgment on herself. Though he knew as well as she did that the Snow Queen's freezing of his heart had taken his emotions out of his control, he still hated to have caused her pain. How could he have forgotten his love for her? Killian had sworn to himself long again that she would never see him turn his back on her, never betray or desert her as she had suffered so often in the past. Yet, he could see in her pleading eyes that she had believed him gone, that she had felt herself abandoned once more.

There was nothing for it but to start again from that moment. Willingly, he would never do anything but endeavor to bring her happiness. He had already spent too much of his unnaturally long life dwelling on past mistakes and what could not be changed; he still had a future here with his Savior, and they could both find happiness at long last.

It was not much longer before Emma emerged from the station door, sliding her arms into her red leather jacket and looking toward her car to find him waiting. A wide, happy grin broke across her face, more simple and uninhibited than he had seen her wear, crinkling her dimples and brightening her entire aspect. To Killian's eyes, she brightened the very world around her.

She moved to stand before him, smirking at him smugly and reaching out a hand to pull him to her by his vest front. "Told you those modern clothes would suit you, Pirate," she murmured, humming lightly as she leaned in and placed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, then each of his cheeks.

"Aye, you did Milady," he returned, voice rumbling low and smug smile matching hers. He allowed himself to be pulled easily into her clutches, letting Emma set the pace as she slipped her hands up his back to delve into his hair and pulled his face down to kiss him more thoroughly.

And later, when they entered Granny's together, in full view of the dinner crowd, when Emma lead him through the door by their joined hands, brought them up to her lips, and kissed the back of his palm with a secret, satisfied smile on her face, Killian felt more peace in himself than he had in ages. They were in this for the long haul now – both of them – and done letting anything stand in their way, be it outside threat or their own walls and scars. This was real and True...for all to see.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @winterbaby89​ @shireness-says​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @thislassishooked​ @linda8084​ @lfh1226-linda​ @xhookswenchx​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @hollyethecurious​ @killian-whump​

[n3rdlif343va]

Chasing Gold Zine Promo Ficlet #1

Below is the first in a series of ficlets leading up to my story in the amazing @yoichasinggoldzine!! I am honored to be a part of this zine with so many incredible writers!

My story is an AU where Yuuri and Victor are retired Olympic athletes, who now coach Paralympic athletes. Our story starts here and will continue with other ficlets, the conclusion of the story will be my piece for the zine! I am very excited to hear what everyone thinks of this story! (You can also follow the series on Ao3: Every Ending Brings a Beginning )

Chatter filled the studio, half-bathed in the bright light while the other half was cloaked in dimness. The back drop was blinding in its pale blue hue interrupted only by fake tree stumps and piles of fake snow. People mulled around setting cameras and discussing angles as Victor stood next to the makeshift dressing rooms, arms crossed watching the familiar chaos unfold. Years of photoshoots had made this experience boring and repetitive, but there was more of a reason to be excited now. A person he was patiently waiting to gain a glimpse of from across the room.

As if waiting on a cue, Chris stepped to Victor’s side. They had become best friends as teens and had been sharing the woes of coaching over the last four years. Victor made a name for himself as a gold-medaling triathlete, retiring to coach a single paratriathlon athlete, while Chris collected his golds as an Olympic athlete turned coach in Paralympic archery and also in the delicate art of torturing his best friend. “These outfits leave very little to the imagination.” Chris’s quip came with a nudge to Victor’s side and a knowing smirk as another man stepped into view on the other side of the outlandish back dropout. “Very little…” Chris snickered, wiggling his eyebrows despite Victor’s inability to look anywhere else.

The red velvet shorts trimmed in white puffs of fluffy cotton looked obscene even on Victor’s slender hips. On Yuuri Katsuki, however, the same red shorts were a sight crafted by the gods. Biting his tongue to hold back a whistle, Victor glanced pitifully in Chris’s direction. Before he could begin another round of worshipping the heavenly ass of Coach Katsuki, his words were cut off by a series of angry curses escaping from behind the curtain of the popup dressing room. Trying to hide his amusement, Victor looked over his shoulder. “Are you okay in there, Yuri?” Another stream of Russian accented curse words made Victor chuckle, turning to step toward his athlete.

Shoving the curtain back, Yuri glared at his coach. “Are you kidding me? What sadist decided these outfits make any kind of sense?” Continuing to yank at the lower hem of his shorts, Yuri glowered across the room toward the photographers. “Don’t even get me started on the stupid hat!” Yuri threw his hat at Victor’s chest, looking ready for a fight when Victor shook his head, stepping into Yuri’s space and fixing the hat over his blond locks. “Why is this Christmas themed?” Yuri spat, shoving Victor away from him, “Christmas isn’t for months!” He stumbled slightly, hand flying to his prosthetic leg as he swatted out at Victor. He didn’t need pity or help, and he conveyed this sentiment through a sharp grind of his teeth and an even sharper growl.

“The calendars are to raise money for the Paralympics, Yuri,” Victor stepped back, watching Yuri adjust his prosthetic with the ever-present scowl that his athlete always wore. Even before the accident, Yuri Plisetsky was borderline terrifying in his intensity. Following the loss of his leg, that intensity had swollen to levels that most refused to tolerate. Except for Victor, who had offered his services as Yuri’s coach and had never backed down through the worst of Yuri’s tantrums and the most devastating of his breakdowns. They were a team, despite how many times Yuri tried to pretend they weren’t. “This is important, you know it is. So grin and bear it, will you?”

With a resigned roll of his eyes, Yuri straightened his back. He shoved his hat further on his head, expression changing back to aggressive as he spotted Minami approaching his own coach. “They’re here?!” Yuri demanded, spit flying from his mouth as he yelled into the side of Victor’s face. “Why am I here with that idiot?”

Taking a patient breath, Victor tore his eyes away from the beautiful face of his longest crush. “Minami is your rival. The photoshoot today is rivals. You and I will pose with Yuuri and Minami. Coach versus coach, athlete versus athlete. And you’ll do it with a smile, or you will be doing laps as soon as we get home.” Flicking the back of Yuri’s ear, Victor pointed toward the closest makeup chair, shoving Yuri toward the anxious looking young woman doomed to apply makeup to the angry kitten’s face.

Once they were alone, Christophe looped an arm over Victor’s shoulders. “Amazing strategy by the way,” Chris unabashedly smirked at the flush taking over Victor’s cheeks. “Pitting Yuri against Minami in the media. A sure-fire way to get your name and your face printed next to Yuuri’s for the world to see.”

“That’s not… I mean… that’s not why… it’s a… happy coincidence?” Victor shrugged as he avoided Chris’s eyes, feeling himself being shaken from side-to-side. If he had somehow, magically, managed to build a rivalry between his athlete and Yuuri’s through a series of well-orchestrated social media interactions, it was definitely in the name of healthy competition and gathering attention to support the Paralympics. It definitely had nothing to do with decade-long crush on the elusive Yuuri Katsuki. Definitely nothing at all.

“Come on, lover boy,” Chris dropped his arm, opting to link his elbow with Victor’s instead. “Let’s go say hi to the competition and your future husband.” Chris’s rich laughter filled the studio as he dragged Victor forward, determinedly ignoring Victor’s embarrassed protests as he attempted to finally throw his best friend into the arms of his future.

“He’s doing it again,” Phichit hissed, pressing his finger into Yuuri’s side and nodding over his own bare shoulder. The excited wiggle of Phichit’s eyebrows made Yuuri seriously consider smacking his friend. Phichit Chulanont was the youngest archery coach in Paralympic history, but he was also the best and worst friend who anyone could ever want. Placing his hands on Yuuri’s elbows, Phichit tried to turn Yuuri’s body to face in the opposite direction, huffing his frustration when Yuuri refused to turn around.

Yuuri’s body was covered in goosebumps where his skin was left bare, only a small portion of his lower half covered by the ridiculously required velvet shorts. Yuuri hated the costume choices, loved the cause, and currently wanted to do nothing more than to murder his best friend.

“Who’s doing what?” Minami inquired, bouncing up to Yuuri’s side with the natural-born enthusiasm that Minami always possessed. Grinning, he modeled his own short shorts for Phichit’s camera, posing with his prosthetic leg extended in a dramatic stretch toward the ceiling. He held the pose while Phichit adjusted the phone angles, humming to reiterate his question.

“Victor is staring at Yuuri again,” Phichit stated, barely getting the last word out before he and Minami burst into giggles as Yuuri buried his head in his hands, a whispered “oh my god” escaping from his covered mouth.

Yuuri knew for a fact that Victor Nikiforov, his longest rival, biggest inspiration, and now fellow coach, was not staring at him. He had competed against Victor for years, never having more than a simple “congratulations” exchanged between them. Still, his menace of a best friend and easily influenced athlete kept the joke alive, pursuing it beyond the brink of Yuuri’s sanity. When the whispered choruses of “Victor loves Yuuri” began, Yuuri attempted to ignore them by staring at the ceiling. His nerves were already shot with the very small amount of clothing covering his body and he didn’t need the added stress of the continued teasing. Finally snapping when Minami trailed into a Japanese version of sitting in a tree, Yuuri smacked his hand against Minami’s shoulder. “We’re not sitting in a tree, we’re not k-i-s-s-i-n-g…” he didn’t finish his argument, the words dying on his tongue as an arm dropped over his bare shoulders.

“Who’s not kissing?” Victor asked. His voice shook as his brain registered the skin to skin contact, resisting the urge to kick Chris in the shins as his best friend winked in his direction. Subtle was not Chris’s forte, and Victor wanted to kill him for it.

“You two,” Phichit said easily, aiming his camera in the direction of Yuuri’s and Victor’s faces. He snapped a picture, flashing it toward Chris with a shared conspirator’s smile.

“Chulanont,” Chris’s eyes lingered over Phichit’s barely-there outfit, tearing his gaze away when Minami cleared his throat. “Where’s your archer?” The question was a poor recovery, Chris still unable to pull his heated look away from Phichit for more than a few seconds. When Phichit nodded over his shoulder, Chris followed the gesture, noting Guang Hong and Leo sitting next to each other in closely pulled together makeup chairs.

“It seems our athletes have a bit of a thing for each other,” Phichit laughed, seeing his young archer giggling into his hands over whatever Leo had said. To the world Guang Hong and Leo were friendly rivals, but their coaches knew better. Shaking his head, Phichit retuned his gaze to Victor and Yuuri. The sly grin pulled at his lips as he reached forward to rob Yuuri of his glasses. “It’ll look better on camera without them, right Victor?”

The brown eyes had blinked in Victor’s direction and he had momentarily forgotten his own name. The problem persisted when his name was called by someone else, demanding his presence along with Yuri, Minami, and Yuuri. Reality came back to him as Yuuri waved a hand in front of his face and Chris’s laughter once again fueled Victor’s embarrassment. “What now?” Victor glanced around, noticing Minami already walking away from their group and Phichit joining in on Chris’s laughter.

“Um, they called us.” Waving a hand toward the piles of fake snow, Yuuri struggled to get the words out. He had barely heard anything that had been said from the moment Victor’s arm had taken its place on his shoulders. Shifting, he felt his hat slide awkwardly on his head, regrettably stepping away from the warmth of Victor’s side to peer in the mirror. The squeak that escaped him when Victor pressed against his shoulder to peer in the same mirror was undignified and left Yuuri blushing as he adjusted the hat in his blurry reflection.

Victor was almost too distracted by Yuuri’s beauty to ignore the way his forehead was exposed in his own Santa hat. Concentrating, he rearranged his hat, muttering under his breath about the size of his own forehead.

“Your forehead isn’t big,” Yuuri mumbled, “you look good. All of you does.” Eyes growing the size of saucers, Yuuri clamped his hand over his mouth, turning on his heel to rush toward the impatient photographer.

A piece of Victor’s heart went with him, as Victor groaned in Chris’s direction. The compliment reminded Victor too closely of a night in the very last athlete’s village that he had ever shared with Yuuri Katsuki. A night that had changed Victor’s life and broken his heart, all at the same time. Sighing, he punched Chris’s shoulder before making his way to the location of his torture for the next hour.

Heat was building across the back of Yuri’s neck as he was repositioned over an artificial tree stump. In competition he wanted to be the focus of everyone’s attention, but under the unnatural heat of the stilted lights and the judgmental stares of his fellow athletes, Yuri felt a sickness curling into his stomach and the scowl slowly creeping back onto his face. The roll of a single bead of sweat down his spine made him shiver, his hands subconsciously flicking down to his leg with a desperate need to tuck it out of sight.

In contrast, Minami’s smile was still bright as he companionably chatted with the woman showing him how to pose. Although his leg and hand had changed in equipment over the years, he was used to their existence and embraced the power they gave him. Signing up for the calendar had been his idea, a chance to support the games he loved so much while showing pride in his body. Once he had given Yuuri his heartfelt speech, his coach had caved. For every ounce of shy in his coach, Minami had an equal amount of boldness, and the combination never ceased to garnish success.

“Alright crew, last set!” Backing away, the photographer once again lifted her camera, lights flashing in time with her directions.

Smile, look at the camera, look imposing, look at each other, stand up, sit down, be a marionette; all of the instructions of the last hour were burning Yuri’s nerve endings and he could feel his patience beginning to splinter. He didn’t want to be on display. He didn’t want his image plastered all over as if he should be someone’s inspiration. He wanted to compete and he wanted to claim the gold medal that was rightfully his, even if it was in a competition he never expected to be a part of. A small growl escaped him as the photographer declared them finished and he immediately dropped his leg behind the tree stump and out of view. Running his hand over his head to pull off the ridiculous hat, Yuri glared as a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Ready to throw down?” Minami joked, shaking Yuri’s shoulder in friendly fashion. “We only have two months left before we head to the games. I’m pumped, how about you?” An offended look flashed over Minami’s face as Yuri whacked his hand away.

“Why are you talking to me? We’re rivals,” Yuri snarled, rolling his shoulders back as he stood. He watched Minami slowly stand, continuing to glare in his rival’s direction.

Minami placed his hands on his hips, cocking his head to peer at Yuri. “Rivals doesn’t mean enemies, Yuri. At least it doesn’t have to.” Nodding in the direction of Leo and Guang Hong, Minami waited until Yuri faced him again. “We can be friends and competitors, there is no rule against that.”

“I have rules against that,” Yuri snapped, taking a step back when he realized that Victor was no longer next to him. “I don’t need friends. I need to win. Even if I have to compete in your games.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, Minami opened and closed his left hand. The metal fingers moved with fluidity and Minami raised his hand slightly into the air. “My games?” he questioned, lowering a quick glance to Yuri’s leg. “True, I grew up different, I could never compete in the same games that Yuuri or Victor did or that you could’ve. But what I do? What we all do…” Minami waved his hand toward the other athletes in the room. “It takes a strength that most people can’t understand. And we inspire those younger than us to have the same strength. As much as you might hate it, you are one of us now. You can continue this us versus them stuff you have in your brain, or you can realize we are all in this together. Rivals or not.” Shaking his head, Minami turned his back on Yuri, walking toward the dressing room with a disappointed droop in his shoulders.

Standing alone, Yuri steeled himself against the emotions rising in his chest. He wasn’t meant to be here, fate had been cruel to him in a way that was unfair. No matter what Minami claimed, Yuri was different, and he refused to let the chip fall from his shoulder because of some bright-haired moron’s quasi-inspirational speech. Clamping his jaw shut, Yuri turned on his heel, stomping toward the dressing him without looking at anyone around him. He would show them. He would show them all.

The wonderful art for this piece was created by @katsukifatale​ who is one of the busiest, sweetest, most supportive, and most talented people I know. Mac, you’re a blessing for this and for everything else you do for me and for this fandom.