#as soon as i saw the swan lake outfit i KNEW that it would go so hard in the banshee styling battle

[unowneyenon]

presenting my very queer coded styling battle with the banshee😌😌

[letsloveimagines]

Title: Forever

Pairing: Corpse Husband x female!reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: How about one where Corpse proposes? With flowers and everything! Like he went out of his comfort zone to propose to you in public because he felt like you deserved it!

Word Count: 2225

Warnings: luff and some swearing

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦

The little black box, with that important thing hidden inside, weighed in the pocket of his dark jeans as he headed for her condo. Corpse's breathing was fast, his hands were shaking immensely, and his heart was beating fast, so fast that it seemed to want to escape his chest.

He strode, always faster than anyone, avoiding people who came in the opposite direction as far away as possible. The further away the better.

Swallowing hard feeling a lump in his throat, Corpse looked at the sky, which at that moment was a sea of red, orange and yellow, indicating that it would not be long before dark and for the moon to replace the sun.

Grabbing his phone and watching the time, he quickened his pace even more, playing with the rings on his long fingers and feeling his back cold with the nervous sweat.

He was ready, however, and he was sure that Y/N was the one. Since that day they met at the small cafe, he knew she was his forever. That day Corpse had risked going out for the first time in a very long time, trying to win even though he knew he would never really be able, at least not as he almost did now with her. That red-haired employee looked at him bored - certainly tired and dissatisfied with his own life, but who wasn’t? - his deep voice stuttering nervously as he tried to place the order. He succeeded there, and the minutes that it took the employee to complete it were truly terrifying. He said a small thank you, handed over the money, and in the moment he took the cup his hands were shaking so much that he thought he was going to drop it. Everyone was looking at him, Corpse was able to feel their gaze and there was nothing he wanted to do but disappear from there. But then an angel came up to him, gently touched his hands assuring him that everything was fine, and offering him a big, beautiful smile that made him dreamy for the rest of the day. Cliché he had the notion of that, but so incredibly good that remembering it makes him feel butterflies in his belly.

The memory was long enough to reach its destination, and the nerves tripled at the moment he saw the condominium of white and brown buildings. He was quick to send a message to let her know that he was already there, and it didn't take long to receive one in exchange of her saying she was going down as fast as she could.

Corpse took a deep breath, leaning against the wall with the white paint a little chipped and in need of a new coat of paint, and reached into his pocket feeling the velvet box stroking his fingerprints. It was still there, safe and heavy with all hopes for a bright future.

"Hey, love." Y/N’s sweet voice sounded nearby, along with the sound of her elegant footsteps.

"Hey, babe.." Corpse greeted pulling the mask away slightly - he couldn't get out without it, even on that very important day - and kissed his girlfriend's black-colored lips (she started to like seeing herself in black since they were together). It was a gentle kiss but full of longing and security, and especially full love. Her lips tasted like blackberries, which he loved, and the black lipstick helped to highlight the beautiful features of her face that only left him even more enchanted. How he was lucky enough to have someone so wonderful in his shitty life? This was something that Corpse questioned every day…

Y/N's eyes were bright when they pulled away and she smiled sweetly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I missed you."

"As did I, baby. Where do you want to go?"

"I thought it would be good for us to take a little walk."

"Are you sure? We can stay home if you want to, or if you don’t feel comfortable." Oh, how he loved her. Y/N was so understanding and attentive, and if she was another girl, she would have left his sorry ass a long time ago. And yes, Corpse was uncomfortable being on the outside, in plain sight, but it was something he wanted to do for her.

"I'm sure, let's go. It will be dark soon."

Y/N was quick to get to his left side, interlacing their fingers when they joined hands, Corpse's bigger hand practically swallowing hers.

Without further ado they began to walk calmly, Corpse remembering to slow down knowing that it would be difficult for his girlfriend to keep up with his hurried pace.

"I was thinking that we could go to dinner at that restaurant that you like." He informed her. It was a small and quiet restaurant, and they had been there before. It had gone well and without any problem. That was how he wanted it that night.

"Sure, I'd love it as long as it's okay with you." Y/N looked at him again with an uncertain look.

Corpse stroked her small hand. "I'll be fine as long as I'm with you."

The pink tone on her cheeks and the passionate smile with which she presented him made it all worthwhile.

On the way to the restaurant they talked about their days. Y/N told him how it had been a little busy day (she was a graphic designer) and she had already finished the cover of a fantasy book, and given it to the writer when he decided he wanted to change something at the last minute. She managed to do so, but not without feeling that she would tear her hair out in frustration. Corpse pulled her closer to him and assured her that everything was fine, that she was great at what she did and that better days would come.

He was telling her about the two-hour stream playing with the friends he had made, and the music he was writing, when they finally arrived.

They went in, asked for a table further away and without much trouble went to sit in their seats, with the menu on the wooden table waiting for them. There was no need to look though, whenever they went there they asked for the same thing, so that's what they did. She ordered spaghetti bolognese and for him just a vegetable soup with chicken. To accompany, they ordered a small bottle of wine. Corpse's left leg swung quickly, while discreetly touching his pocket.

"Is everything alright, baby?" She asked at the same time that the food was being served.

"Yes, don't worry."

Y/N didn’t stop looking at him with concern, but she did not insist. While they ate they were talking about nothing and everything, enjoying the feeling of being in public in what had been a long time. The restaurant was almost empty, with just another couple at a distant table with their backs to them, which made him more comfortable. It was small with the floor, tables and chairs all in wood, with brick walls with a rustic effect, and small iron lamps lighting the place almost lovingly.

Time passed and Corpse's nervousness only grew. They ate and drank wine, enjoyed dessert, and were happy and smiling.

Corpse was helping Y/N to put on the black leather jacket - her outfit consisted of comfortable shoes, red pants and a cute black tank top, as well as the delicate shamrock necklace he had given her on their one year anniversary -, when she questioned him curiously. "We are going home now?

"Let's go out for a little while." The beautiful girl's surprised look did not escape him, even he was surprised that he was succeeding to do that.

They left the restaurant after paying and ventured into the city, holding hands and full of soft words. Every now and then, Y/N would lift his hand to her lips and give a small kiss on the skin full of protruding veins.

The stars shone in the middle of the night, the moon was full and round, high and illuminating the path to the park. There were wooden benches every few meters, tall street lamps peeking out near the trees and the round lake by the children's swing. Y/N used to go there in her childhood.

They sat on the grass by the lake, their feet immersed in the cold water that reflected the moon. They were silent for a moment, completely at peace watching the couple of swans swimming nearby, gently cutting the water and with their long white necks almost intertwined.

It was now. Now was the moment.

"Y / N…"

"Yes, Corpse?" She looked at him with the stars shining in her eyes, and leaving him speechless.

Corpse’s heart sped up, blood pounded in his ears and his hands trembled when he opened his coat and removed the flower he had protected in the inner pocket. The black rose was in perfect condition, sparkling with the small silver particles that embellished the petals.

He handed it over to Y/N, who accepted her happily with a smile almost as big as his love for her.

"Oh, babe, it's beautiful! Thank you so much."

He smiled shyly, with extremely sweaty palms, and watched as the girl in front of him admired the flower, without knowing that she was also being admired by him.

"I do not deserve you." He said at last, immediately regretting it seeing her smile fading.

"What are you saying?"

"I-"

"Babe, you’re really scaring me right now. What's going on?" Y/N's gentle hands came to his face, taking off his mask (which was fine by him because he trusted her absurdly, and they were alone), and caressed the skin of his cheeks with concern.

"Let me talk before I turn myself into a coward once again. I don't deserve you, I have a full sense of that, you're too good for me and kinder than anyone will ever be. I'm not a religious person, my life didn't allow me to be , but since we’re together I pray every day that you would not wake up one day, and realize that it’s not me who you want by your side."

"It will never happen, you are everything I ever wanted." She whispered.

"I am not... but you are what I always desired." He smiled. "You take my problems when you shouldn't, you help me and you take care of me. I can talk to you about everything because I know my secrets with you are safe. You support me when I doubt myself, and you do it all without asking for anything in return. "

"I just want your love."

Corpse kissed her, feeling the soft brush of her lips against his. Just a simple kiss from her was enough to calm him down for good. "You already have it." He assured her, then touched the velvet box and took it out of his pocket. Y/N's shocked sigh filled the air, and she raised her hands to her mouth. "And I know that I will never be enough, that I will never be good enough... But I will try. From sunrise to bedtime I swear to love you and try to make you happy every day. And if one day I don't, I know that I wasted the best thing I have in my fucking life... "

The tears overflowed from her eyes, sliding down her face in rivers of happiness. "Corpse…"

Corpse opened the box showing her what he had been hiding for several months. It was a simple ring - too simple for her in the boy's opinion, but that was how she liked it - made of silver with an oval diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones in square shape, and many smaller ones around it, embellishing the circle.

"Y/N…" He sighed deeply, more sure than ever in his life, even though trying to control his anxiety. "Do you want to marry me?"

The girl threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and crying in his chest. "Yes, yes! Of course I do! Of course I want to marry you."

He laughed happily and deeply, smiling so much that he thought the corners of his lips must reach his ears. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her perfume and murmuring how much he loved her... But mainly thanking her for loving him.

After a few minutes of laughter and sobbing, Y / N walked away with red, wet cheeks and slightly swollen eyes, but looking more beautiful than ever.

"How long…?"

"Much too long." Gently he took her hand and stuck the engagement ring on her left ring finger, where it glowed as if it belonged there. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"It's beautiful." Y/N said in admiration. "I love you."

"Not more than I love you."

They shared another kiss, this one longer than the others, and left their foreheads gently touching each other, with their eyes closed and wanting to record the moment forever in their memory.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"I’m the one who should be thanking you…"

"I knew you were forever. I've known it since that day at the cafe."

"Yes…" Y/N agreed. "Forever."

                                                           ♦⋅☆⋅♦ Tag List: @breathygasps @unicornblood4ever @jay-jay-love @mintchip17 

[sour-heart-treats]

Cream Unicorn having to deal with the loss of Sugar Swan, and Whipped Cream having to deal with them lashing out? thank u! (i havent asked a rq for so long deng)

Whispered voices spoke to the empty lake. The crystal clear water, lit up by the gemstones that grew above and below, still felt so empty after all this time. By the lakeside, two soft and wounded souls would state their prayers. They were loud enough to hear one another, yet did not dare break into another's privacy. After all, the respect the two had for one another stemmed from the one that had brought this water body its shine. The shorter of the two, a ballerino by the name of Whipped Cream, would stand first. He looked down to Cream Unicorn, who had worn their mourning attire for today. Whipped himself wore the same clothes that he'd been gifted on his last birthday before the Swan had passed. It was a night of reverie, but no longer could such a night be replicated.

"Are you going to dance upon the lake again?" A voice with a hint of scorn was spoken, with the speaker- Uni- rising to their feet. "You always were one to dance out your emotions, even the bad ones." The humanized equine would look to Whipped, expression furrowed in the same mourning that the dancer had gotten used to seeing on every occasion the two saw each other. "You do not have to sound so bitter, you know. I dance in honor of them, not to ruin the ground they found to be home." There was a huff from Uni, eyes averting as they would turn and begin to walk along the lake's edge. Though Whipped wished to follow his older sibling, he… let them go. He knew that this day was hard on them. It was difficult for both of them, even if the pink one never truly felt much on the important days. It was always the days after that were the worst, not that Unicorn would ever see such…

With a quiet hum, Whipped would gently set a foot out into the water, taking one step… another… another… and letting his body begin to take itself through the usual song and dance. Quite literally. The hum would soon turn to song, and he'd let his inhibitions go to prance across the water's surface. Practice makes perfect, and he has certainly taken such to heart. The number of times he's practiced these performances for his dearest caregiver is practically countless. Plenty of other performances were practiced, certainly, but none of them held a candle to the ones that were to be held at this lake. For the Swan. With his sibling there to watch, as always- even if they were disparaged.

Though… When it came time for a great leap, Whipped felt the wind knocked out of his chest as he was tackled back to the water's edge. Coughing out the rest of the breath and attempting to suck in what he could, the dancer would look up to see his sibling with their lower half in horse form to hold him down. Hooves digging into his hands and wrists… It hurt. He certainly hoped his outfit wouldn't be torn. The silk was so light and fragile; he wouldn't know what to do if it was dirtied.

"You… You little…" A growl was laced in Uni's voice, one that finally got Whippie to register that their sibling hadn't done this on accident. They were angry. Scratch that, they were in pain. Anguish. "Why- How do you just dance this day away as if it's nothing!? Every year, you come here and dance… and you don't show a shred of tearfulness! In fact, you always are so flat on these days! What, did you not care for Sugar Swan!? Do you not care for our caretaker!?"

Blinking, still catching breath, the trapped one would only stare upward at his sibling. This… wasn't the first time he's been pinned for questioning. Usually, it was a playful gesture, but now? Now, this felt more threatening than anything else, though he knew that Uni would never harm him. It was against Cream Family Code to harm another family member unless they were corrupted or something of the sort. "I… I do care," he'd mumble, "I simply… It takes me some time for the emotions to properly come out. I'm… I'm sorry if I come off as hollow or something, truly, I-" "Sure, yeah, lie to my face, don't you?" Uni, clearly unsatisfied, would surprisingly let their brother go. The shorter would rub at his wrists as the taller let their lower half give a poof of Swan-gifted magic back to the two legs they were less used to. "Look. I really don't care if you do or don't. Just… stop dancing on their resting place. I… I don't know how to compete with that. I have nothing to do- nothing to give. It makes me feel… worse."

Whipped would readjust the crown on his head, sighing lightly. "I would say that you walking around the lake once per every year they've been gone is more than enough… but if you wish, I can stop and simply walk around with you." …He would continue to dance, but simply when Uni was not around. They have an entire park they have to attend to, after all; not to mention how short of a time they have to be outside of it under normal circumstances. The transformer would look to Whippie, then to the velvety sand beneath them both. "Y… yes. That will do. That will do for now, at least."

[wistfulcynic]

The Bend of the Arc (4/ 4)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan hates Killian Jones at first sight. He's everything she despises in a man: arrogant, provocative, and a known criminal associate of the city’s most notorious gangster. She’s determined to put him behind bars, until a shocking event forces them together and Emma discovers that there’s a lot more to Killian than meets the eye.

-

THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone reading this story! I’ve been blown away by your amazing and insightful comments, and so touched. You are all thoroughly brilliant and I want to hug you. Contact-free internet hugs for all!

All the love always to @thisonesatellite​ for her ‘splaining, even the cold kind ❤️

Rating: M (smut and language)     Words: 5.8k (of 30k total)   Tags: Modern AU, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter!Emma, criminal!Killian, smut, bedsharing

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | On AO3

-

PART FOUR: 

It didn’t take long to prepare for their departure. Neither of them had come with any luggage; Killian simply packed his tuxedo and her dress and shoes into a large plastic bag and tossed it into the back of the Jeep. They had a quick breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen, quickly tidied the rest of the cottage and then were ready to go. 

Emma took a last look around as Killian reset the security system, trying to fix the little space in her memory. A heavy ache of sadness sat in her chest knowing that she would never see this place again, and Killian… she had no idea what might happen between them when they got back. What she even wanted to happen. 

The drive down to the lake was a silent one. Emma noticed that the path they took down the mountain was straighter than the one that had brought them up it, keeping mostly parallel to the meandering line described by the creek he’d shown her, the one she was to follow if she ever needed to find the lake again. 

The motorboat was precisely where they’d left it. Killian turned off the Jeep and tucked the keys beneath the visor, then fetched the jackets and life vests from the back as Emma grabbed the plastic bag with their clothes. She tossed it into the boat before putting on her jacket and vest and stepping aboard, with no need for Killian’s hand this time. Moments later they were underway, rounding the curve of the lake and heading back to the river that would lead them to the larger lake and the boat that had carried them to it, the one Killian claimed belonged to one of his employees. 

It too was right where they’d left it. Emma frowned as she removed her vest and jacket, handing them to Killian who boarded the larger boat with them tucked beneath his arm and stowed them in a compartment beneath the seating on the deck. 

“Don’t you worry, leaving things like this?” she asked. “A yacht, just sitting there, and the keys left inside the Jeep?” 

“Hardly anyone lives out here,” he replied, turning another key to start the boat’s engine. “And those who do keep to themselves. It’s why I chose this place.” 

Emma stayed on the deck of the boat as it purred down the skinny lake—which she soon realised was not a lake at all but a long and winding inlet that opened out into the sea. Land masses crowded the horizon, some clearly islands and others possibly part of the mainland split up by more inlets. Killian steered them gradually to their left, maintaining a more or less straight course in that direction until slowly the islands became less plentiful and a city began to resolve in a blue-grey haze before them. 

“You’d better get below,” Killian told her. “And stay quiet.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Remember that passport you don’t have?” 

“Oh.” 

She went below and curled up again in the bunk where she’d slept the night of their escape, but no sleep claimed her this time. Voices filtered down from above, muffled but recognisable as Killian’s and another that sounded like a woman. Their conversation was short and soon the boat was moving again. Emma waited another twenty minutes before venturing back onto the deck. 

“Aye, love, it’s clear,” Killian said with a smile when she poked her head through the small door. “We’re back in American waters.” 

“So,” she said, resuming her position on one of the padded benches, “you basically smuggled me into Canada,”  

“Basically.” 

He seemed disinclined to elaborate, tension creeping visibly into his posture as they drew nearer to the city.  Soon Emma began to recognise the skyline and about twenty minutes later they arrived back at the marina. 

Killian brought the boat into the mooring they’d taken it from and tossed the lines to a short, round man with a dark beard and an anxious disposition who appeared to be waiting for them. 

“Everything all right, Mr Jones?” he asked. 

“No problems, Smee,” Killian replied. “Thank you for the loan of her.” 

“Anytime, sir.” 

The man nodded to Emma as she debarked and gave her a nervous smile. She smiled back, as warmly as she could manage, then followed Killian across the lot to where his car was parked—another thing just as they’d left it, but with one addition. Graham was leaning against the hood with his arms crossed and his badge prominent, watching them approach with a hard expression. 

He and Killian shook hands, the kind of handshake men exchange when they’d prefer to exchange fists to the face, and then Graham turned to Emma. His eyes raked over her, taking in every detail, leaving her with the uncomfortable sensation that he could see everything she’d done over the past few days—that she had slept with Killian and how her feelings towards him had changed. It made her angry; it wasn’t Graham’s business who she fucked or how she felt about them, and she returned his appraisal with a cool stare. 

“Are you all right?” he asked her. 

“Fine,” she snapped. “Never better.” 

Graham shot Killian another dark look. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ve got a cruiser waiting to take us to the station.” 

“I’d prefer to drive myself, mate, if that’s all right,” Killian replied. 

“If you must,” said Graham. “But Emma comes with me.” 

“I’m going with Killian,” said Emma firmly. “And I’m stopping by my place first, to get a change of clothes. 

Graham’s eyes flitted from her to Killian and back again, his jaw clenching, and she wondered if he would pull rank. Finally he gave a short nod. “Fine. Be at the station in an hour.” 

He turned on his heel and headed for his cruiser, squealing out of the parking lot a minute later in a way that felt deliberate. Killian didn’t look at her as he got into his car and so she simply got in herself, hugging the plastic bag with their clothes tightly to her chest. 

Killian knew where she lived. Of course he did, thought Emma, just as she knew where he lived. He went straight to her apartment, parking in her usual space and wordlessly following her inside, where she retrieved her dress and shoes from the plastic bag and held it out to him. 

“Sit wherever,” she said. “I’ll just change quickly and be right back.” 

He nodded, taking the bag, and she retreated to her bedroom where she shed his clothes and replaced them with her own. As glad as she was to put on actual underwear and clothes that fit—and she was very, very glad for it—the ache in her chest throbbed again as she folded Killian’s jeans and t-shirt and rolled up his socks. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, and when she opened her closet to fetch her jacket she froze. 

Killian’s jacket was there beside it, the one he’d put around her shoulders the first night they met. The one she’d intentionally kept to fuel her anger and keep her determination to see justice done to him fresh and hot, and now—

Now it made her want to cry. 

Slowly she removed it from the hanger and held it to her cheek. It smelled like him, that warm, spicy scent that was so familiar now. Emma buried her face in it, breathing deeply and fighting back her tears. Then she placed it gently atop the pile of his clothes and put on her red leather. 

When she returned to her living room Killian was still standing where she’d left him, staring out the window with an expression she couldn’t read. He smiled when he saw her, a smile that started bright and quickly dimmed, one that seemed involuntary. 

“Well,” he said, waving his hand at her outfit. “That’s better, isn’t it?” 

“Much,” she replied, smiling back. “Um, here’s your clothes.” 

“Thanks.” He put them in the bag with his tuxedo. 

“And, uh, I should probably give this back too.” She held out his jacket. 

“Ah.” Killian stared at it, emotion flaring in his eyes but quickly quenched. “Er, yes, thanks.” He took the jacket, not looking at her. 

“Killian—” 

“We should probably get going. I wouldn’t want to face Graham’s wrath if we’re late.” 

“Yeah. But can we, um… can we just...” 

“What?” 

Talk, she wanted to say. Fix this, whatever this was that had been so fragile last night and felt shattered now. But she knew there wasn’t time and Killian’s face was shuttered again, carefully concealing all traces of the man she already missed. 

She put her hand on his arm and he caught his breath. “Emma,” he whispered, “I—”

She stepped closer and he swayed towards her, reaching up to stroke her cheek with trembling fingers that curled around the back of her head as she tilted it up. 

“I—” he tried again, then his lips were on hers, his arms closing tight around her. Emma whimpered and stood on her toes, pressing as close to him as she could get, her own arms twined around his neck and clinging like she never wanted to let go. 

She didn’t, but she couldn’t hold on to him, not when he was still keeping things from her. Not when she could never trust him. Emma had been down that road before and she knew where it led—jail time and a broken heart, and a son she would never know.  

Killian kissed her with a desperation that echoed in her soul, fingers tangled in her hair and clutching at her waist, mouth hot and demanding and achingly gentle, sweet and bitter, an elegy, an apology and a goodbye. 

As their lips parted he let his forehead rest on hers, his eyes closed. “We should go,” he said. 

Emma squeezed her own eyes shut, breathing him in. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”  

~

Graham was waiting for them at the station along with what seemed like half his precinct, sweeping Emma away while Killian was corralled by the others and leading her to an interview room like she wasn’t there all the time and didn’t know the way as well as he did. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked her. “Coffee, or—” 

“I know what the coffee’s like in this place so I’ll pass, thanks.” 

Graham’s lip twitched. “Fair.” 

A knock sounded at the door and he opened it to admit his partner, a dark-haired man with a perpetually smug expression. “Emma, you remember August Booth?” he asked, cringing slightly when Emma and August turned to him with identical exasperated eye rolls. 

“Of course I remember August, he still owes me fifty bucks from the last poker night,” said Emma. “I know this case is a big deal, but can you please remember I’m your friend and not some stranger who needs to be handled with kid gloves?” 

“My friend,” Graham repeated. “Right.”  

August sat across from her and laid a clipboard and a small tape recorder on the table. “Emma, I need you to make an official statement of what you witnessed at Robert Gold’s mansion, do you consent?” he asked. 

Emma nodded.  

“And you consent to have your statement recorded?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. Sign here.” 

She did, but before August could turn the recorder on, Graham spoke from the doorway. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Emma? You’ve had a stressful past few days, we can do it tomorrow—” 

“No,” said Emma firmly, wishing Killian were here and also wishing she didn’t wish it. “I want this over with and I want Gold to go down.” She nodded to August. “Let’s get started.” 

~

It took more than an hour, with Emma telling and retelling her story and August asking questions, pressing her for more details, for everything she could remember. When it was over she was exhausted and emotionally raw, with a pounding head and a fierce desire for a hot bath and a soft bed, and Killian. Maybe he would agree to stay with her tonight, she thought, rubbing her temples. Just for tonight. Just one more night.

She returned to the bullpen to find Graham waiting for her. 

“Everything go okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. You’ll have to ask August for the details because my brain is mush, but… yeah.” 

Graham gave her a sort of half-hug, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck to massage it. “You did well.” 

 “I’m just glad it’s done.” 

“Gold’s been remanded without bail,” he informed her. “You should be safe enough to go home, though I’m placing a couple uniforms outside your door just in case. Is your car here?” 

“No.” 

“I’ll get them to drive you then, too.” 

Emma shook her head and pulled away. “That’s okay, Killian can—” 

“Killian’s gone,” Graham snapped, his face going dark. 

“What?” Her heart twisted, bent and folded itself into a tight knot of agony. 

“He left half an hour ago. Said to tell you goodbye, and he’s sorry.” Graham’s eyes flashed. “What does he have to be sorry for, Emma?” 

She shook her head. “Nothing.” 

He snorted. 

“Nothing like what you’re thinking,” she snapped. Anger surged within her, hot and cleansing, burning away the pain.   

“So you didn’t—” He made a vague gesture with his hand, scowl deepening, and oh, Emma relished this anger. 

“Didn’t what?” she asked with a tight, mocking smile. “Fuck him?” Graham winced, and her smile became a sneer. “Oh yeah, I definitely did that. And you know what? I’d do it again.” 

He clenched his fists, nostrils flaring. “So much for your high-and-mighty ideals about trusting criminals,” he spat. 

“I never said I trusted him.” Emma intended the words to sting but her voice rose on a wobble and she spun away, pushing and elbowing her way through the crowded bullpen towards the exit before Graham could see her tears. 

She was nearly there when his hand closed around her elbow. “Emma,” he said, softly and without rancour. “I’ll drive you home.” 

~

Graham pulled up in front of Emma’s apartment and turned off the engine. They sat in silence for a moment, she desperately clinging to the remnants of her anger and he staring at his hands. 

“Emma—” he began. 

“Why do you hate Killian?” The last of the anger slipped away as she spoke his name, leaving the hurt stronger in its absence, leaving her wanting only to curl into a ball and weep forever. 

Graham sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t hate him. Once I loved him like a brother.” He paused, his throat working. “Part of me still does.” 

“But then why—” 

“Because I don’t want to see you become just another woman he hurts!” Graham cried, twisting in his seat to face her. “Did he tell you about the others?” 

“He told me he’d hurt people—”

“Did he tell you he had an affair with Gold’s first wife?” 

“No, but—” 

“Gold found out and she turned up dead. Stab wound to the heart.” 

Emma’s own heart twisted even tighter. “That’s on Gold, not Killian,” she whispered.

"Maybe. But when Gold’s current wife got shot, that was Killian.” 

“He shot her?” Emma exclaimed. “I thought she was—”

“She survived,” Graham said harshly. “But Killian and Gold have a lot of ugly history and he had no right to bring you into that! I should never have allowed it.” 

“Graham—” 

“And then the way you were looking at him earlier—he’s not worth it, Emma! Whatever you think you feel for him, he’s not worth it.” Graham swallowed hard and turned back to face the steering wheel. “I’m not saying this out of jealousy.” His voice was low and rough. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, and I won’t deny that I wish there could be something between us. But I'd be happy just to see you happy, and Killian—all he’ll do is hurt you.”  

“He won’t,” she replied. Not intentionally, anyway. “He wouldn’t.”

Graham slammed his fists on the steering wheel. “For fuck’s sake!” he cried. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”   

“Every one.” Emma was surprised by how calm she felt, though the ache grew with every beat of her heart and tears hovered at the back of her throat. “I know how hard it was for Killian to lose your friendship, but it must have been even harder for you. Seeing what he became, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.” 

“I—” He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It was.” 

“He hasn’t changed as much as you think. He’s still a good man at his core, despite everything." 

“Emma—” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to—” her voice broke “—to see him again. I know I can’t trust him.” She put her hand on Graham’s and squeezed gently, leaning forward to catch his eye. “But there is one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty, and that is that Killian Jones would never, ever hurt me.” 

Graham stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered. 

~

Gold pled guilty to Felix’s murder, along with a dozen other charges of money laundering, fraud, and larceny. His plea came as a surprise to the district attorney, who had offered him no deal. The case against him was solid and she was hoping to make a landmark of it, expecting Gold to use all the resources at his disposal to fight the charges. 

“So why didn’t he?” Emma asked Graham. 

“Once his wife found out what he’d been doing, she threatened to leave him if he didn’t confess everything and accept the consequences, no strings attached,” he replied.  

“Wow.” Emma gave a low whistle. “I think I like this woman.” 

When Gold was sentenced to life imprisonment with no possibility of parole—the district attorney could smell blood in the water and pushed for the maximum sentence—Emma was in the courtroom to witness it. She had testified before the grand jury, coolly recounting what she had witnessed in the gallery with her eyes on Gold the whole time, unflinching even under his icy, furious glare. She thought about Killian and how his staunch support had helped her through the worst of her trauma, had brought her to this place where she could stand strong, look evil in the eye and see justice done. 

You’re a tough lass, he’d said, and she was determined to live up to that.  

As the judge’s gavel fell, Emma was filled with a deep, primal satisfaction, and when Gold turned as he was being led away and his eyes found hers in the crowd, she couldn’t resist a smirk. This time at least there would be no escape from that justice. Not for Robert Gold. 

Killian wasn’t at the grand jury or the sentencing. She hadn’t really expected him to be, of course, but still she’d hoped… she’d hoped. 

Days passed and then weeks, weeks Emma thought would dull the ache in her chest and soothe away the itch beneath her skin, the one that urged her just to call him. But the time only weighed more heavily the longer it stretched, and with each day that went by the itch to call him grew both stronger and easier to resist. She knew his number, of course, and of course he must know she did. If he wanted to hear from her he would have said so. He would have left a message with Graham, or called her his damn self. She knew that he must have her number too. 

She went back to work, back to chasing criminals and deadbeats. The old thrill she felt at catching them was undiminished, but every time one spat at her or called her a cunt she couldn’t help remembering Killian when he’d been in their shoes, the challenge of sparring with him and how exhilarating it was, even when she’d hated him. 

Killian was rarely far from her thoughts. She thought of him when she was bored on stakeouts and found herself wishing for a book, when she ate a piece of the fruit she now found herself buying and when she put cinnamon creamer in her coffee. She thought of him when she slipped her fingers between her legs at night and when she cried herself to sleep afterwards. 

She thought of Killian every time she didn’t ask Graham if he’d heard from him, every time she resisted the urge to drive past his house and every time she bought a new romance novel, because damn it she was hooked on them now and she wasn’t giving them up just because every one reminded her of how damned much she missed Killian Jones. 

Feel what you’re feeling, Killian had said to her. It’s the only way to heal. 

Emma had a lot of un-felt feelings—more than a decade of them, from as far back as the day she’d refused to hold her baby though his newborn wails tore at her heart. She’d refused to feel the loss of her son or of his father, refused to mourn Neal or acknowledge the traces of love she still had for him. Refused to let anyone else get close enough to make her feel—until Killian smashed through the walls she’d built around her heart without even trying, catching her off guard with kindness and bone-deep decency from the last person on Earth she’d expected to show either. 

It made her wonder if she might have misjudged other people in her life and if maybe, possibly, letting some of those people in might not be so bad. As much as missing Killian hurt—and it hurt, with an agony that sank its claws into the very deepest depths of her—she couldn’t regret the time she’d spent with him. And maybe, she thought, possibly, that was what he’d meant by healing. Feeling her feelings didn’t lessen the pain of them, but it gave her the tools she needed to manage it. 

She felt guilty for giving up her baby. She felt stupid for letting Neal manipulate her but still sorry he’d died in the jail cell she’d put him in, sorry she’d never told him about their son. She felt angry at her own parents for abandoning her, and not even properly—not given her up for adoption just tossed her on the side of the road like a piece of trash. She felt weak for how hurt that made her feel and how worthless, and she felt angry at the system that allowed her to fall through the cracks of it, angry at a society that forced her to become hard just to hold on to herself. 

She felt. And then she began to heal.

~  

A month after the sentencing an envelope arrived in Emma’s mailbox. A plain manila one without much in the way of identifying markings but thick and heavy. She tossed it onto her kitchen table with the rest of the bills and junk and then promptly forgot about it, her mind all on the deadbeat father she was hunting—the one who owed over $80,000 in alimony and child support to his two ex-wives and the five kids they had between them—and there were few people Emma relished nailing more than a shitty-ass parent. 

When she got home that night it was late and she was tired, looking forward to some Chinese takeout or maybe just instant ramen and her bed. She tossed her keys at the table where they missed the little bowl she kept there to hold them, landing instead on the envelope. Emma frowned at it as she retrieved them, and after depositing them firmly in the bowl picked up the envelope and examined it. The postmark was local but there was no return address, no company name or any other information about the sender. 

Graham would tell her not to touch it. But even if there were any associates of Gold’s still lurking out there seeking revenge on her, Emma figured they’d just shoot her and not send mysterious envelopes through the mail. She sat down at the table and ripped it open, and instantly she was wide awake. 

Within the envelope were records, financial ones, page upon page of them. Business records, bank accounts, tax documents. All in the name of Killian Jones, and each one helpfully annotated with notes and arrows and little diagrams, so that even her inexpert eye could recognise the picture that they painted. 

Emma stared at them in shock. This was everything she had spent months looking for, the hidden money that lay behind his legitimate businesses. Offshore accounts, shell corporations, all so skilfully concealed that she could never have hoped to uncover them. This was what he had refused to tell her about at the cabin. 

The papers wrinkled beneath the pressure of her fingers as she realised what this meant. Killian had given her every scrap of evidence the police would need to pursue charges against him. She could take it to them now and he would be arrested, and she knew that if she chose to do that he would go quietly, with no complaints and no resentment against her. He wouldn’t try to run or use clever lawyers and legal tricks to escape the consequences. She could send him to jail, where they both knew he belonged. 

Or she could… not. 

Something at the bottom of the stack of papers caught her eye—another, slightly smaller envelope. Emma opened it somewhat warily and stared again, this time in astonishment. Inside were more documents but these ones contained no evidence of crime; very much the opposite, in fact. One of them gave details of a foundation that had been set up to provide free shelter, counselling, and legal services to help teenagers escape abusive homes, while another described a college scholarship fund for kids in the foster system. This included money for tutoring, application advice, and SAT/ACT prep courses that would put the foster kids on a more equal footing with wealthier ones whose parents could afford such things. 

There were others too, women’s shelters and free clinics, and Emma wondered how the hell Killian had managed to pay for all of this. He was rich, sure, but most of his assets were tied up in his businesses; this level of investment was well beyond what he could afford on what he had that was legal and liquid. 

Her answer came in the last document in the pile. Short and straightforward, it outlined the liquidation of every single thing he owned that wasn’t strictly aboveboard, and how that money had been funnelled into the charities he’d set up. Millions of dollars, just given away, leaving him with a decent income from his remaining concerns but nothing at all like the wealth he’d had before. And it was done so neatly, Emma realised, all but tied up with a pretty red bow. The charities were funded with money that was sparkling clean, laundered so well it would take experts years to sort out how he’d done it. She could still turn him in using the other evidence he’d given her, without endangering any of the good things he’d done with his dirty money. 

Killian had placed his fate entirely in her hands.

Emma laid the papers down on the table, let her head fall into those hands and sobbed. Her emotions, wild and confused for so long now, resolved themselves, solidified and crystallised into one shining and inescapable certainty. She was in love, for the second time in her life, and once again with a man on the wrong side of the law. It was history repeating itself, the one thing she’d sought to protect her heart against, but with two crucial differences: Killian was not Neal, and this time her eyes were wide fucking open. 

~

“William Smee?” 

The little man appeared at the railing of his boat, smiling much less nervously than at their first meeting and wearing a red knit cap that struck Emma as oddly whimsical. “Miss Swan, is it?” he called. 

“Yes.” 

“Come aboard.” 

It hadn’t taken long to find him. The owner of the boat Killian had borrowed was indeed one of his employees—his, never Pan’s. Though it seemed that Smee had once worked for Gold, until he’d messed up a job and nearly lost his life for it, until Killian had given him a reason to take on a different kind of employment. 

People who owe me considerable debts and loyalty, he’d said, and he’d said the man’s name as well, loudly and clearly enunciated and within her hearing.

Emma climbed up to the deck to find Smee waiting for her, still smiling, his expression polite and expectant. 

“How can I help you ma’am?” he asked. 

I’m pretty sure you know how, Emma thought, but she stated the obvious anyway. “I need you to tell me how to find the place where Killian moors his boat,” she said. “When he needs a bit of an escape.” 

Smee’s smile widened. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “I’ll take you there.” 

~

Killian’s boat was there at the pier when they arrived, long and sleek and very unoccupied. Smee moored his own next to it, then turned to Emma with another smile and a proffered hand. 

“Is there anything more I can do for you, ma’am?” he asked. 

Emma took his hand and shook it firmly. “Nope, I can take it from here. But thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” said Smee, and handed her a life vest. “Take this too,” he advised. “Or Mr Jones will have my head.” 

Emma strapped the vest on securely before boarding the motorboat that was just where she expected to find it, though somewhat cleaner and with a newer engine than she recalled. It started up with a rumbling purr and Emma gripped the tiller carefully, steering the boat in a wide arc, less smoothly than Killian had but then she’d only done this once before—in an old boat belonging to August’s boyfriend’s cousin and for no longer than it took to master the basics. 

She aimed the boat as best she could for where she thought the river was, altering her course twice before she found it then nearly running aground on its narrow banks. But she stayed afloat and soon found herself emerging into the lake, rounding its curve and heading for the pier, pulling the motorboat up with what she thought was impressive smoothness and securing it to the piling, right next to another motorboat of a similar style. 

It took her a good fifteen minutes to locate the mouth of the stream, but once she had and had followed it a little ways up the mountain she spotted a Jeep parked along its banks. A newer model than Killian’s and in a different shade of green, but the keys were beneath the visor and Emma felt no trace of surprise at finding them there. 

She was better at driving cars than boats and it wasn’t hard to follow the path of the stream, a path she remembered quite well from her trip down it several months before. Soon she spotted the cottage off to her right and turned away from the stream, navigating carefully through the trees and into the little clearing. 

She got out of the Jeep and retrieved a large duffel bag from the back, withdrew from that the large manila envelope and a Zippo lighter and headed for the fire pit. Selecting a few from Killian’s store of seasoned logs, she arranged them in the pit as she had seen him do, tucking dry twigs in around them for kindling but adding no tinder. Instead she held the lighter to a corner of the envelope and watched it catch, watched the flames lick up and spread across it, devouring the papers inside. She held it up to the twigs until they caught fire then nestled it beneath them and the logs and watched the flames grow, leaping high in the air, the sparks rising up to meet the streaks of sunset just visible through the trees. 

“I hope you meant to do that, love, because I don’t have any other copies,” said a voice behind her, and though she was expecting it, waiting for it, longing for it, she still gave a little start at the sound. “Do you?” 

Emma turned, her heart in her throat, to see Killian standing just to the side of the porch, watching her with soft eyes and a heartbreaking smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she retorted. 

His smile widened. “I definitely would.”

Her feet carried her towards him, around the pit and across the small distance that separated them, then launched her into his arms. “No other copies,” she said. “Though I kept the papers in the smaller envelope. All of them but one.” 

He stroked her cheek, fingers tangling in her hair. “Emma, I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“For what?” 

“Leaving you like that, at the station. I just—I couldn’t—” 

“You had things you needed to do,” she said. “And so did I. But we’ve done them now, right?” 

“Yes,” he said fiercely. “I swear to you, I—” 

“I believe you,” she interrupted. “I trust you.” 

He made a strangled noise, his eyes blazing with joy and awe and wonder. “You do?” he croaked. 

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

“Bloody hell.” He pulled her closer, too roughly, his arms too tight around her, and buried his face in her hair. “I love you so much, Emma,” he whispered hoarsely. “But I wasn’t sure—I didn’t know—” 

“Shhh,” she soothed, stroking his head until he relaxed and loosened his hold on her, pulling back to wipe his eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said. “Even after… after everything, I wasn’t sure you could take the risk. It’s been—well, it’s not been an easy past few weeks. Months, really.” 

“For me either,” she agreed. “But we both needed it, I think. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking actually and there’s so much I need to tell you. But first…” She draped her arms around his neck and gave him a saucy grin. 

“Mmmm?” he murmured, nuzzling at her cheek. “First what?” 

“First I’ve got a duffel bag full of marshmallows and chocolate and you, Killian Jones, are going to make a s’more. And eat it.” 

His chuckle sounded low in her ear, the voice that followed it light and happy. “For you, my love? Anything.” 

“Good,” said Emma, and kissed him. 

—

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @kmomof4​ @mariakov81​ @katie-dub​@spartanguard​ @darkcolinodonorgasm @courtorderedcake @squidvisious @cluttermind @teamhook @lfh1226-linda​ @shireness-says @stahlop

[psychovigilantewrites]

Odette

Pairing: Jason/Reader

Genre: Drabble Fluff

Wordcount: 2,170

A/N: Hey guys!! I’m finally back! So sorry I’ve been away for so long. Will reply to my asks soon. But for now, here’s a Saturday Drabble :)

I was going to make it a full blown ONLY smut, but for some reason I decided to keep it relatively PG lmaaaooo

Masterlist

Kofi

Jason thought you were kinda spoiled. You had your own little dance studio in the manor. But then again, he couldn't say anything much since there was a goddamn cave dedicated to Batman and all of their nighttime activities down below, after all. 

But what actually annoyed him the most about you was that you'd ask any one of them to sit by the music player and help pause, or fast forward, or rewind, or replay the music while you danced. 

And fuck, did he hate watching you dance. 

Well, not really. 

He just hated the way he reacted while watching you dance. For one, he thought himself as a perverted creep while he watched you. Secondly, he kept on wondering whether the rest of his brothers had the same thoughts and reaction as he did when it was their turn to sit down on the wooden floors pressing buttons. 

The worst part were the mirrors, god. The fucking mirrors. There were mirrors everywhere. 

He sometimes would catch his own reflection, frowning as if in deep thought. Sometimes he caught himself with his mouth slightly ajar. And the worst was when he caught himself with dark, lustful eyes. The mirrors were a blessing as well as a curse. It reminded him to keep it together, to behave. But then it showed him how fucking ugly he looked, his large figure slumping against the mirrored wall behind him as you danced gracefully. 

He watched as your strong muscular thighs rippled and move, your calves contracting as you pointed your toes. 

He was always amazed by you. Your physique looked powerful, toned by all the dancing you did. Yet, you managed to walk and move so gracefully, like a swan floating in a pond. 

Jason could never.  

The first time he saw your feet, he almost gasped. The cuts, bruises, the chipped nails and blisters. Some covered and patched up by normal plasters. 

He then realised every time you put on your pointe shoes, you were in pain.  

The beauty and grace he saw on the outside covered the torturous and endless wounds. 

He couldn't fathom it, why you would put yourself through all of that. And it made him respect you even more. 

But Jason particularly hated it when you stretched. After pointe stretches, you would put on your practice shoes, the battered soles and discolored ribbons that were wrapped around your ankles a contrast to your pretty, pretty skin. 

Then you would stand up and hold the wooden bannister that ran horizontally across the mirrored walls. One foot down on a pointe, you would stretch your other leg slowly, first bringing your knees up towards your chest, then move it sideways, and stretching your whole leg up as high as you could go. 

And you could go pretty fucking high. 

Jason would gulp whenever you did that, the skin tight outfit you wore allowed him to see everything. 

Allowing him to imagine the oh so many different positions he could fuck- no. He couldn't think that. He couldn't allow his mind to wander like that. Especially about you, who were pure and innocent. 

But it still didn't stop his body from reacting. 

Sometimes when it got too much, and he lost control of his body, he would shift there on the floor, bringing his knees up to his chin to hide his raging hard on. 

One day after a particular long stretching session, and an equally long dance practice, you sat in front of him while you took off your shoes. 

He had prayed to whatever deity that his boner would disappear after you were done, but there he was, still hiding it when you started talking to him, legs crossed on the floor opposite him.

“Hey, Jay?” you started. 

“Hmm?” 

“Would you like a ticket to see my performance this Saturday?” you smiled shyly, tucking a stray hair from your messy bun behind your ear. 

“Yeah, sure!” he said,”I’d love to.”

“Thanks,” you beamed at him. 

“Are the others going as well?” 

“Well,” you frowned, biting your lower lip, “I haven't asked.”

“Why not?” 

“I don't know if they're interested,” you explained, “And if they're not, they're going to say yes anyway just to be nice. Then they're going to have to sit there, all bored. I don't want to put them through that.” 

“But you'd put me through that, huh?” he teased. 

“Well, it's different with you,” you avoided his eyes, “You actually watch me, you know? The others would just play with their phones or something. But I noticed that you’re the only one who would actually sit down and watch me dance. That's why I thought you wouldn't mind.”

“I-uh-yeah,” he sputtered, “I think it's great. Talent. Your dancing. Spinning and stuff.” 

He wanted to punch himself in the face, ashamed that he had got caught. Thankfully, you thought that his intentions were innocent. 

Jason was probably being too hard on himself, as Dick would tell him. He did like watching you dance. He appreciated how you were so passionate about the art form. 

So it wasn't just about his goddamn lust. 

“I think the others would be happy to go,” Jason added, “You should ask them.” 

“I don’t know,” you bit your lip. 

“Hey, look at me,” he reached for your chin, tilting it to meet his eyes, “Trust me. They’d appreciate you asking them. Okay?” 

Jason saw your big, puppy eyes change from confusion, to worry, to resolve. 

“Okay,” you answered, “I’ll ask them. Thanks, Jay.” 

***

“W-wait, what? Did you know about this, Todd?” Damian sputtered in front of the ballet poster that showed your face covered in makeup. 

They were at the performing arts theatre, waiting for your performance to start. The warm lights were brightly reflecting on the intricate details of the chandeliers. The theatre was crowded, and your face was everywhere. He was not expecting the show to be big. 

“Know what?” he grunted. 

“That she’s playing both Odette and Odile!” Damian gushed. 

Jason let out a low whistle. He was familiar with Swan Lake- the way he was familiar with most classical literature, plays, and performances. He knew it was rare for one dancer to be playing both the White and Black Swan. 

He wasn’t surprised, though. He watched you dance regularly and he knew how good you were. 

“Is that a big deal?” Dick asked. 

“Grayson, your lack of knowledge confounds even me sometimes,” Damian tutted, “It’s not just a big deal, it’s a very big deal.” 

“That’s amazing,” Tim chimed in, “Who knew, huh?” 

“If you guys actually paid attention to her, you wouldn’t be this surprised,” Jason grumbled. 

All four of them, including Bruce who had remained silent the whole time stared at Jason with eyebrows raised. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Nothing,” Dick smirked. 

They were then ushered in. In the end, Bruce had paid for box seats, so they were all seated separately from the crowd. The lights dimmed and the dance began. 

Jason blocked the outside world the moment he saw you come on stage. It was Jason’s first time seeing you in full makeup and costume, and he was entranced. 

Hypnotized by your grace, your beauty, your- fuck, your everything- for the next few hours he forgot where he was, who he was, and just watched you. 

Suddenly, he heard a roaring noise in his ear. For some reason people were making noise. He was already annoyed, before he realised that the crowd was in standing ovation.

He hadn’t even realise that it was over. He blinked his eyes when the lights came back on, and saw that you and your fellow dancers were waving and bowing on the stage. You were carrying a large bouquet of roses, and everyone else were throwing flowers at you. 

Jason looked over to Bruce, and he saw the look that he’d been craving for his whole Robin life. 

Pride.

He gulped, and then turned to leave. 

“Where are you going?” he heard Tim ask. 

“See if I can catch her backstage,” he shrugged, and left without waiting for an answer. 

He waited for the applause to die down, for everyone to make their way back home. He thought that you would probably be in your dressing room by then. So he made his way past the other dancers, the racks of costumes. Then, he stopped himself outside the door that had your name plastered on it. 

He raised his hand to knock- but paused right before his knuckles hit the wooden door. He heard noises inside. 

“I’m really grateful for your kind words, but I think you should leave, Phillippe,” he heard your hushed whispers. 

“But baby-” 

“For the thousandth time, I’m not your baby,” you snapped. 

“Everyone else wants me, why not you?” the man whom Jason assumed was Phillippe demanded. 

“I’ve got someone else,” you replied curtly, “Now please leave.” 

“I’ll make you forget him,” Phillippe tried, “I’ll make you want me.” 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shrieked. 

Jason broke down the door then, to see that the tall blond man who played the Prince earlier had you against your dresser, holding your wrists. 

“This- this room is for dancers only!” Phillippe yelled. 

Jason didn’t give him a warning, didn’t give him any words of threat either. 

Instead, he growled, and then tore the man away from you and hit him straight in the nose, hearing the satisfying crunch. 

Phillippe stumbled back, clutching his bloodied face. “You broke my nose!” he wailed. 

“I’ll break more than just your nose if you ever come close to her again,” he muttered coldly. “Leave. Or else.” 

Phillippe scrambled away pathetically. 

Jason closed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing, to not let the rage and anger seep in.

“Jason,” your soft voice broke him out of his concentration, but thankfully not in a bad way. 

“I’ll have someone fix your door,” he apologised. 

You were already out of your costume and makeup, and were only wearing your casual clothes. Your hair was still up, with some stray strands framing your face. You were standing close to him. 

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “I’ll explain it to them.”

“Did he hurt you?” he frowned. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you grinned. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted, “If he hurt you in any way I’ll-”

“I’m fine, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “Really. I could have handled it even if you hadn’t broke down the door.” 

“Fine,” he sighed. 

“So you guys watched the whole thing?” you changed the subject. 

“Nah, I think I saw everyone dozing off,” Jason teased, “Especially Bruce. Did you know he snores?”

“Jason!” you giggled. 

“Yeah, I was the only one paying attention. I tried to wake them up, to no avail.” 

“Oh, did you now?” you smirked. 

Somehow you had gotten even closer to him. He could feel your body heat, and smell your perfume. 

He gulped. 

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, “You were great. With the spinning. And jumping. And stuff.” 

“Spinning and jumping?” you laughed, “Thanks, Jay.” 

“I think-” Jason took a deep breath. And another. And another. 

“You think..?” you prompted. 

“Ithinki’minlovewithyou,” he spilled. 

“You’re only realising this now?” you said, “You dumbass.” 

“W-what?”

“You’ve been staring at me dancing with your mouth open for a year and a half, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “And it took you a full blown national ballet event to figure it out?”

Jason blinked. 

“It’s okay,” you reached out your hand and caressed his cheek, “I know how you’re emotionally constipated and all that.” 

“Emotionally-” Jason started. 

“And don’t worry, I know how much my warm up routines affect you,” you winked, “You don’t have to explain a single thing.” 

“Warm up..?” he repeated, until he realised what you were saying. He felt his cheeks heat up furiously. 

“Your warm up routines affect me too,” you bit your lip. “Your pull ups, and push ups, and sit ups, and whatever ups.” 

“You’ve been checking me out?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Duh,” you rolled your eyes again. You closed in on him, and pressed yourself against his body, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Jason.” 

“Yeah?” he whispered back, feeling the light brushes of his lips against yours. 

“Kiss me.” 

“Okay.” 

He pressed his chapped, dry lips against your soft, plump ones and groaned at the relief of just having you, feeling you. He wanted to kiss you slow and sweet, but you had other ideas. 

You pried open his lips with your own and forced your tongue inside his mouth to explore, all the while gripping his shirt and pulling him closer to you, grinding your front against his, getting him excited in too short a time. 

“Woah, woah,” he stopped you, “Not that I didn’t enjoy that, but the door is broken and can’t be locked. You think this a good idea?” 

You contemplated for a while, and with a pained expression on your face, you groaned out loud. 

“Fine, we’ll take it home.” 

[olliepig]

Waiting in the Wings chapter 5

Thanks as always to the wonderful (and ever patient) @willow-salix for all her help in getting this beast out. 

As always, the whole thing is available on AO3 here

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

The cheers of the crowd bathing her in a glow of satisfaction that she’d never managed to find elsewhere, Cat stood on the stage of the Opera House after her performance of Swan Lake, savouring the moment. It was a marathon of a ballet that took every ounce of energy she had, and the appreciation shown by the audience at the end made the hard work and downright pain of her chosen career totally worth it.

She knew as well as everyone else on the stage that the post performance glow could be short lived and, with her long day nearly over, she was relieved that all she had left to do was receive her flowers, get changed and head home. Sensing a shift in focus from those around her, she looked over to the wings in time to see one of the Opera House staff staggering onto the stage with quite possibly the largest bouquet she had ever seen and heading straight for her.

Since her first performance of Giselle, larger and larger arrangements of flowers had started arriving at the Opera House to be presented onstage at the end of each show. There was never a name or message on the card hidden inside, just the initial S and two kisses. It was a fact that didn’t go unnoticed and became a source of debate and amusement within the company whenever she performed to see how many flowers she would receive and whether the mysterious sender would make themselves known.

Outwardly, Cat pretended to be exasperated by the constant influx of flowers but secretly she loved it and always thanked Scott profusely for his thoughtfulness. She had never expressly told him what her performance schedule was, so she supposed that he had looked it up and made arrangements accordingly. It had never been discussed aside from her giving her thanks but it was something that made her heart flutter dangerously every time and she cherished it.

With the curtain calls over, and with everyone having somehow managed to avoid tripping over the flowers as they laid on the stage, Cat headed back to her dressing room, barely able to see over the top of them. It wasn’t the only bouquet she had received that night and as she walked she thought that it was lucky that it was a route she had followed so often as she was relying almost entirely on memory to find her way.

As soon as she was safely in the dressing room, she carefully placed her flowers in the sink and pulled out her phone.

How the hell am I supposed to get these home on the tube?! They barely fit in the bloody dressing room! (Thank you very much for them btw. They’re beautiful!)

Smiling, she put her phone down and started to get on with the business of getting her costume undone when, almost instantly, her phone buzzed with a reply.

Good job I'm here tonight then, isn’t it? I’ll have the car at the front when you’re ready.

Cat smiled as her heart lurched with the unexpected excitement of seeing Scott again. It wasn’t the first time they had met up since their night at Penny’s and their friendship felt like it was blossoming. Multiple messages were exchanged daily and the more they learned about the others lives, the more comfortable they became.

What?! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Why don’t you come round to stage door and I’ll come down to meet you there? I need to grab a shower before I leave and I’ll be a while so you can wait in my dressing room.

Text sent, Cat raced through getting her tutu off and threw a tracksuit on. Checking her phone, she smiled again as she saw the reply,

I wanted to surprise you and yeah, that sounds much better than sitting out here by myself. See you soon!

Keen not to keep Scott waiting, she flew down the stairs, shoving down the nagging thought that she shouldn’t be this excited to see someone who was supposed to be just a friend. It was a decision that they had made together and she was determined to stick to it, regardless of the little voice in her head that kept pointing out that it had been her idea and that he had merely agreed to it.

Scott was already waiting for her when she arrived and her breath caught slightly as she took him in before he spotted her. He really was almost impossibly beautiful, she thought; the very epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His impeccably cut suit looked to be the same colour as his dress blues from his airforce days, a memory that stirred another flutter in her stomach.

“C’mon then you,” she greeted him fondly, enjoying the look of surprise on his face when he registered her next to him as she grabbed his hand and led him into the maze of corridors backstage.

“Well hello to you too,” he smiled, following behind and enjoying the touch of her hand much more than he thought he should.

Having never discussed the identity of her flower sender with anyone but her closest friends, bumping into two members of the corps de ballet on the stairs while escorting Scott Tracy back up to her dressing room was definitely not part of Cat’s plan to keep it a secret, especially as, she realised with a start, she was still holding his hand.

A hot flash of something akin to jealousy flared through her as she saw the appreciative glances they threw his way as they passed by and she mentally kicked herself for it as she hurried an oblivious Scott up to the relative privacy of her room. It wasn’t that she was trying to keep their friendship a secret; she just really didn’t want to be pressured into publicly defining something that was so far totally undefinable to her.

“You did great tonight,” Scott started with a smile that made Cat’s heart rate increase as the door closed behind them.

“Thank you very much,” she grinned, turning away quickly so he couldn’t see the effect he’d had on her. She watched in the mirror as he headed over and made himself comfortable on her window seat before starting the job of unpinning her headdress and letting her hair out of its tight bun. “When you said you were here I wondered if you’d seen it.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it, even if it did mean a ridiculously early start this morning. Sorry about the flowers by the way,” he added as he caught sight of them, the small sink making the arrangement look even bigger than it was. “I didn’t realise you’d have other bouquets as well and I genuinely didn’t expect mine to be quite that big.”

“That’s OK,” laughed Cat, moving on to removing the worst of her makeup. “It was hilarious watching them try to get them all onstage. I’m just glad you’re here to help me get them all home.”

“So, um, what would you like to do once you’re ready? I’d be very happy to take you for dinner if you'd like?” Scott knew full well that she wouldn’t have eaten since late afternoon and would likely be hungry after all the energy she had used in her performance. He had many happy memories of late meals after her shows and was keen to recapture those moments, even if they didn’t lead to the same end to the night as they used to.

“Not sure I really fancy dinner,” came the reply, throwing a bucket of ice water over the daydream he had somehow slipped into. “It’s been a long day and my feet really hurt. I was just planning on making some pasta and chilling out tonight if you’d like to join me?”

“That sounds wonderful,” smiled Scott, his initial disappointment at her rebuttal turning to enthusiasm for her counter offer, visions of cosying up on the sofa appearing in his head.

“Right, I’m going to jump in the shower, keep making yourself at home and I’ll be as quick as I can,” she finished, grabbing her clothes and disappearing without a backward glance, leaving Scott to his thoughts.

Scott looked around and wondered what to do. He'd been in the dressing room once before after Giselle but with Penny and Gordon there too he hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time. He was acutely aware that this was her private space in the theatre and he didn’t want to pry. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. He found her fascinating and wanted to find out everything he could about her life but he wasn’t prepared to violate her privacy, so he contented himself with settling down on the chair at her dressing table and looking at the pictures that she had stuck around her mirror.

He’d looked at nearly all of them when, to his surprise, he spotted a picture he had taken of Cat and some friends of hers whose names he had once known. Seeing it again transported him back to that day: waking up with her beside him before going for a lazy brunch, then heading out on a trail walk along the James River where they bumped into a group of her friends, joining them for a while on their walk and laughing with them as they took the pictures.

He wondered, with a pang of regret, if she still had the picture of the two of them that had been taken moments later, cuddled up to each other and smiling, cheeks rosy from the slight chill in the air. He’d not thought of that picture since the day it had been taken. At the time it hadn’t seemed like it was of any real importance, just a snapshot of another day together with the promise of countless more like it in their future, but now… Well, now it mattered somehow.

His musing was interrupted by Cat breezing out of the showerroom, now dressed and ready to go. As they chatted amicably while she gathered her belongings, to his delight he noticed with a start that she was wearing the same outfit that she had at Pennys, sending his thoughts spiralling back to the events of that night and making him wonder if there was a significance there that he was not yet aware of.  He was very relieved when she thrust a couple of her bouquets into his arms and led him out of the room, unwittingly breaking that particular train of thought before it could affect him too much.

Down at the stage door, Scott found himself hanging back while Cat signed autographs for the second time in as many months. Unlike the last time, however, he was now playing the role of a glorified vase and within the first 10 minutes he started to quite seriously regret his choice of bouquet as the foliage tickled his nose for what felt like the 100th time.

The number of people who turned out, and were prepared to wait in the unseasonably cool London night to speak to their favourite dancers, amazed him. When he thought about it properly, he wasn’t sure why; they were stars in their own right and their fans wanting to meet them made perfect sense. It was a world away from his experiences of waiting alone for Cat after her early performances in Richmond and his heart swelled with pride at her accomplishments since then as he watched her work her way through the crowd.

As he waited, he became uncomfortably aware of people watching him too and once he had realised that,  he became sure he could hear his name being whispered in conversation, making him quickly duck behind the flowers, using them as a shield. He was well aware of the attention his presence could attract and also very keen not to let the focus be taken away from those who deserved it so he started to maneuver himself away from the crowd.

On their way down from the dressing room, Scott had promised Cat that he would have the car waiting for her once she was finished and when he became certain that he had been spotted, he gratefully snuck away to fetch it, rifling through his pocket for the keys and trying not to drop the damn flowers that were quickly becoming the bane of his life.

Safely settled in the driver's seat, Scott allowed himself to slump for a moment and prepare for the evening ahead of him. He cherished his friendship with Cat but there was no doubt of how he still felt about her. As soon as they’d started talking again it was clear to him that they still had a connection and the night they’d spent at Penny’s had cemented that. Or at least he’d thought it had.

He understood why she had made the decision to be friends and nothing more, but that didn’t mean it hurt him any less. He had pushed that hurt down in order to keep her in his life and he’d been pleasantly surprised at how natural it had felt when they had met up a few weeks later. Where he’d expected awkwardness and long silences, he’d found laughter and flowing conversation which encouraged him to persevere further, truly hoping that one day his feelings would fade and he could be the friend she desired.

When they were apart, he almost managed to convince himself that friendship between them would be entirely possible, but as soon as they were together, he longed to reach out and bridge the gap between them. Being so close to her but unable to act on his feelings was like some kind of delicious torture that he hated and loved in equal measure. He was hopelessly addicted to her, and he had no idea what to do about it.

*****

Feeling unnaturally clumsy under Scott’s gaze, Cat muddled around her flat, finding light switches and vases while simultaneously urging him to make himself at home and apologising for the non existent  mess. She hadn’t been expecting a visitor when she had left that morning and she reddened as she spotted the underwear that she’d left over a radiator to dry, grabbing and stuffing them down the side of a cupboard, most likely never to be seen again.

If Scott saw her, he didn’t mention it and for that she thought she would be forever grateful. He followed her around, helping as much as he could as he looked around in interest at the place she called home.

“Hey,” she commented with a smile, finally coming to rest and surveying the veritable florists that had appeared in her kitchen, “remember when you used to just get me a single rose after a show?”

“What, like this one?” Scott grinned, holding out a blood red flower that he had produced from lord knows where.

Cat smiled slowly as she met his eyes, making his heart race. He kissed the flower and presented it to her with a deep bow, as he had seen her doing to her partner on stage earlier that night and was delighted when she received it with a curtsey.

“I…. Thank you,” Cat smiled, genuinely pleased with what she hoped would be her final floral gift for the night. The rose brought back so many memories of their time together and for that alone it meant more than all the other flowers combined.

“Right, shall we get dinner on, then? We're still making pasta?” Scott broke the moment and took charge. Seeing a kettle, he filled it and set it to boil before looking around the kitchen for any hints of where utensils and food might be kept.

“Bottom drawer, next to the fridge,” Cat instructed, following his line of thinking and directing him towards the saucepans. The pair of them bumped companionably around the kitchen as they made the  simple meal for themselves, falling easily back into old habits and divisions of labour.

“Ooh, wine,” Scott exclaimed, emerging from the fridge and holding a bottle triumphantly above his head. “Would you like a glass?”

“Yes, I think I would,” came the reply from somewhere deep within a cupboard as Cat rummaged through for the sauce she was looking for. “It always takes me ages to unwind properly after a show and I do like a nice glass or two now and again.”

“I remember,” Scott replied softly as he put the bottle down. Something  in his tone caused Cat to stop what she was doing and turn to look at him, finding his eyes mesmerising as they caught hers.

Cat was pinned by them, her breath quickened  as she drowned in their depths and she fought the sudden urge to take the few steps needed to close the gap between them. His lips looked so soft and inviting and she found herself wondering if they tasted the same as when she had last kissed them.

“Shit!” Cat’s attention was distracted by the unmistakable sound of a pan boiling over. She rushed to mop up the worst of the water, the moment lost.

By the time she looked back up, Scott had moved too and had busied himself by pouring two glasses of wine and getting the plates ready for when it was time to dish up their dinner.

It was probably for the best, she told herself. They were just friends. They’d both agreed. And friends didn’t look at each other like that, right?

Settling down after dinner, they flopped into well practised positions on the sofa, facing each other with their legs comfortably tangled together in the middle and her feet in his lap.

As he listened to Cat talking about her plans for her summer break and the ballets she had coming up in the new season, Scott had found his mind drifting back to the moment that they had shared in the kitchen, feeling once again the way his breath had seemed to catch every time her eyes met his.  

Lost in her, he absentmindedly rubbed her feet, feeling the tense muscles slowly loosen under pressure from his thumbs, the action soothing him and allowing him time to let his racing thoughts settle.

Ultimately, he had no idea what was going on. If they were to be friends, he’d make  his peace with that and would continue to hide his true feelings for her until they faded, but they continued to have  moments that were charged with such intensity that they were impossible to ignore or write off as something else.  

He realised that she had stopped talking and was watching him with an almost unreadable expression but for the  little smile creeping onto the corners of her mouth.

“Sorry,’ he apologised, feeling the heat creeping up his cheeks and snatched his hands away as if her feet were on fire.

“No, it’s OK. It felt good,” she reassured him. “You were always really good at that. It just brought back a lot of memories, that's all.”

Scott smiled gratefully and went back to working on getting the knots out of her feet, a comfortable silence coming over them. Listening to her talking had planted the seed of an idea, one which he was unaccountably nervous about broaching lest she think he was overstepping any boundaries. As he worked, the idea grew and coalesced into something more tangible, something that he thought might actually help cement their friendship.

“I’ve got something to ask you…” he started hesitantly, “You can absolutely say no but I wanted to ask anyway.”

“OK, fire away.” Cat fixed him with a look that excited and scared him in equal measure as she fiddled with her wine glass.

“I know you were saying you have some plans for your summer break, but if you have a bit of time would you like to come out to the island for a visit? Spend a bit of time in the sun?”

“Wow! That’s quite the suggestion,” she paused, taking a moment to consider the offer and nearly causing Scott’s heart to stop. “Yeah, that sounds lovely,” she decided, giving him a small nod and a beaming smile that lit up her face.

Scott let out the breath he realised he’d been holding since he’d let the question into the open and his smile matched hers, relief washing over him. “Really? You don’t have to agree to it if you’re not completely sure.”

“No, I really want to, it was just a surprise that’s all.” As the idea took hold, Cat could feel herself getting more excited. She’d not had a proper chance to relax since the previous summer, and even that had been marred by the tail end of her previous relationship, so the thought of a week on a tropical island with Scott was definitely something she could get on board with.

“Amazing! You’re going to love it,” Scott smiled, beyond delighted at the thought of being able to show her his home and introduce her to everyone who was important to him. “We can sort out the details another time though. You look exhausted and don’t think I’ve not seen you stifling yawns for the last 10 minutes.”

Cat couldn’t do anything but laugh. “Yeah, you got me, I think it might be my bedtime. It’s awkward question time now, though. Where were you planning on staying tonight?”

“Selene said I could use her place so I was just going to go there,” Scott responded at once, his answer taking her by surprise. “Um, who’s Selene?” Cat tried very hard to maintain an even tone and a neutral expression despite the flash of jealousy that surged through her for the second time that night, somehow catching her by surprise again.

“John’s fiancee and my best friend. Remember, I did tell you about her?” replied Scott, trying very hard not to grin at her obvious discomfort.

“Ah yeah, I just, um... forgot her name, that’s all…” Cat tried to explain, fooling nobody, least of all herself.

“You weren’t jealous there were you, Miss George?” Scott pressed, a glint appearing in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips.

“Not at all,” Cat insisted, suddenly becoming very interested in her wine glass and trying to ignore the flush that had appeared on her cheeks. “Well, it’s very late, we've had a drink and I have a spare room so you’re welcome to stay here if that would be easier?”

“That does sound tempting. I’ll not be sleeping much though,” he couldn’t help but pause for effect and was gratified with the response when Cat’s eyes shot back up to meet his as she cocked an eyebrow at him. “It’s 2 in the afternoon my time so I’m pretty wide awake I’m afraid. If you don’t mind me watching TV and having a quick nap so I’m good to fly back tomorrow, then I’d love to stay.”

“You’re a terrible tease, Mr Tracy,” Cat shook her head but her smile betrayed her true feelings. “Of course that’s OK.”

Having set Scott up with everything he could ever possibly need for the coming hours, Cat finally retired to bed but despite her exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily for her. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept returning to the man in her living room and how torn she felt about him. From the moment they had met again, something had been constantly there, telling her that she couldn’t let him go but to her it wasn’t as simple as that.

At an early age she had learned the pain of rejection by those who should have loved her and it had scarred her deeply. In Scott, she had found someone to whom she had given both her trust and her heart, and his sudden departure from her life had hurt her tremendously.

Once broken, trust wasn’t something she gave out again that easily and she had thought very carefully before letting him back into her life. Yet, despite everything, she wanted to give him her trust. She wasn’t prepared to risk loving him for a second time but friendship seemed to be a good compromise to make in order to be in his life but not stray too close.  

When they were apart it seemed perfectly easy. The messages and calls flowed constantly and there was no end to the things they could talk about. The problem arose when they were together. He seemed to have a magnetic pull on her that was getting increasingly difficult to deny. She had slipped up once and even though her body might be crying out for a repeat performance, her mind was made up.

Groaning quietly, she rolled over and buried her head in the pillow. It was going to be a long night.

*****

Whatever Scott had planned for their Sunday morning together, it was not the little cafe that he found himself sitting in a few blocks away from Cat’s flat. At the very least, he had imagined going someplace where there were proper tablecloths covering tables that didn’t wobble when you leaned on them, risking spilling drinks with every move. However, the food was excellent, the coffee plentiful and the company the best he could imagine so, all things considered, he was very happy with his situation.

Full of food and starting to feel tired from a day that had started almost 19 hours earlier on Tracy Island, he stretched back in his chair, inadvertently catching the attention of the waitress and flashing her a smile in response to her enquiring look.

Across from him, Cat felt a rush of annoyance fire through her as she sipped her coffee and tried to maintain a neutral expression. She’d been feeling on edge all morning, the fight between what she was prepared to give and what she really wanted, wearing her down and making her feel vulnerable and  irritable.

An idea sparked at that moment though, one that would both prove to herself that she was fine with their friendship being nothing more than that and take away any temptation to push things further.

“You should get her number,” she suggested, instantly surprised by how much that simple little sentence hurt.

“What? Why?” Scott stuttered, completely blindsided. He couldn’t think of anything in his behaviour that had suggested that he might have wanted a date and had no idea where this suggestion could possibly have come from.

“You were flirting with her. All those jokes and looks while we were ordering, and that smile right there? Don’t say you weren’t,” she continued, hating herself for every word but doubling down and pushing ahead anyway. The thought of Scott dating anyone hurt her more than she was willing to admit, but she had started down this path and she was committed now.

Scott sat back, running his hands through his perfectly styled hair, not quite believing what was happening.  “I wasn’t flirting, I was being polite and friendly. There is a difference, you know.” He knew he was being defensive, but at that moment he just didn't care.

“You’ve got to admit it though, you are a flirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not hit on someone, given half a chance.” Cat felt like she was watching herself from afar, not quite believing what she was saying. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt the cold rush of dread spread over her and picked up her coffee cup again in a bid to disguise her shaking hands.

“Listen, this conversation is starting to make me really uncomfortable. I don’t want to date the waitress and I’m not really sure where all of this has come from. Can we just drop it now please?”

“Sorry,” Cat looked down at the empty cup in her hands, desperately wishing that she could go back in time to before she’d ever thought of her wonderful ‘idea’. In retrospect, she wasn’t sure what she had expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t the reaction that she had gotten. She couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever spoken to her as sharply as that before and it had shaken her.

Scott nodded curtly and went back to his coffee, looking outwardly calm but his mind was whirling. He always flirted. It was part of who he was and he’d always thought she liked that, or at the very least accepted it about him. It had never been an issue when they had dated before so he couldn’t understand why him behaving totally normally to a waitress was now cause for comment.

Fine, he thought petulantly, if flirting means that I want to sleep with someone and we’re just going to be friends then I’d better stop flirting with her too. Don’t want her getting the wrong idea now, do we?

A pang of loss hit him as soon as he made the decision; he had come to crave the excitement that her looks and touches gave him and it would be hard to give that up. Not that he’d been the only one doing the flirting, he thought in annoyance. Not responding was going to be a tough but perhaps necessary evil given the circumstances.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked with the barest hint of a smile.

Cat nodded miserably. She knew he was angry, she could see it in the set of his jaw. The sparkle had gone from his eyes and he was avoiding looking at her but really she couldn’t blame him. She’d messed up and called him out on something that came to him as naturally as breathing, so he was perfectly entitled to be annoyed and she hated herself for being the cause of it.

Walking around the local park afterward, Cat did her best to act as if nothing had happened but she wasn’t getting anywhere. She knew from experience that Scott needed a bit of time to cool down when he was angry, but they had limited time together and she didn't want to waste it, even if he was clearly in a bad mood with her.

Slowly, the frosty atmosphere between them thawed slightly but there were still long, awkward silences that had never been there before and Cat had to work hard to initiate any conversation. The animosity that had radiated from Scott since they left the cafe abated but Cat found she still couldn’t relax as she started to notice a marked change in Scott’s behaviour towards her.

Since their argument, he hadn’t been cold exactly, but there was a reservation in his actions that hadn’t been there before. Where he had been open and playful, often touching her hand or holding a smile for fractionally longer than necessary, now he was barely making any contact at all and she felt the loss keenly.

Despite trying to act relaxed, Scott was trying desperately to squash down his natural urge to fix everything. He knew that a quick smile and a cheeky comment would make everything OKagain but he hadn't liked being called out for flirting so he was damned if he was going to use it to get back into her good books.

Her comment about asking out the waitress had confused him and nothing more but, when she started challenging him about flirting constantly, that had angered him. The more he thought about it the more angry he had become and the more he doubled down on his resolution not to flirt with her again.

Deep down, he knew he was being petty and probably overreacting but he’d gone to a lot of effort to pull together his trip to London He’d been so excited to see Cat and spend some quality time with her  and it felt like her actions at brunch had thrown all his efforts back in his face and ruined it. He stewed silently as they walked, his growing anger mixing with regret, knowing that he would need to apologise  at some point but not willing to back down and fix everything quite yet.

The longer it went on, the more her attempts to apologise and lighten the mood were rebuffed, the angrier Cat became. She knew she’d messed up but his treatment towards her was completely disproportionate. She’d apologised and in her experience of adult relationships that was the point at which people would talk  about it and move on. Scott treating her like she was barely even an acquaintance when she was giving him a chance to regain her trust was going too far and she wasn’t going to stand for it.

She’d had enough and took them on a shortcut back to her flat, keen to get the walk over so she could talk to him more privately. Her anger at his childish behavior was growing by the minute and by the time they reached her flat she was seriously considering whether it was worth even continuing their friendship at all.

Closing the door behind her, Cat was surprised to find that Scott had already grabbed his bag and was standing ready to go.

“I need to get back...” he tailed off, glancing down at his bag as he shifted uncomfortably.

Cat had always known he was going to need to leave after brunch. She would much rather have had a chance to sit down and talk properly but time was against them and she wasn’t going to let him run away on her when the going got tough again. “OK, but I’m going to ask you something before you go.”

“Of course,” Scott replied warily, not expecting the sharp tone of her voice or the way she straightened as if preparing herself for battle.

“Is everything OK with you today? You’ve seemed pretty distant since we went for brunch,” she challenged with a lot more confidence than she felt. It was not a question that she wanted the answer to, but she couldn’t let him go without asking him, she had to know.

“Yeah, I’ve told you I’m fine,” he answered shortly, keen not to get drawn into a discussion right now when emotions were clearly still running high for both of them.

“I just… I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to be friends or not?” she met his eyes, finding her strength and challenging him to be honest with her now that the question, and her deepest fear, was in the open.

“Of course I do. What gave you that impression?” Scott was growing frustrated by her questions, baffled as to how they could possibly even be having this discussion.

“Yesterday you surprised me for the night, bought me the biggest bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen and invited me to spend a week with you on your family's island, and this afternoon you’ve hardly even looked at me,” she argued, feeling more confident about making her point but not wholly convinced by his answer given his actions that day. “I get it, I messed up earlier and I’m sorry, but I feel like I have whiplash from how fast everything has changed.  So I’ll ask you again, and I want you to be honest with me - do you want to be friends or not?”

“No, I don’t,” Scott snapped, as anger surged through him, shocking her with his ferocity.

Everything he’d been doing to ensure he didn’t cross the line from friends to something more had been taking its toll on him, and that, combined with whatever the hell it was that had happened at brunch, had finally pushed him to his limit.

“I flew 13,000 miles to see you. I rearranged my time off so it fitted in with your performance and your schedule. And today you tell me I should be dating some waitress I’ve never spoken to before? You want to know what I want? You”

Cat was speechless. All she could do was stare at him, her mouth slightly agape, as he bared his soul.

“I want to date you, Cat, no one else. I was to kiss you and take care of you and love you like I used to.”

Suddenly realising what he’d said, Scott pushed past her without waiting for a reply and walked through the door, slamming it on his way out and leaving a bewildered Cat to wonder how on earth she was going to salvage this one.

[a-winterprince-blog]

Family Ties (13/15)

Summary: Not long after receiving a strange warning in a dream, Killian finds himself forced to go to Camelot and deal with a long forgotten enemy. The heroes follow to aid him, but soon they are pulled into a net of family secrets and intrigues, with a foe who seems to bring back the dead. Killian is reunited with his family, but can he trust them? Rating: Mature Content Warning: Mention of rape and minor character death. Corresponding chapters will be marked accordingly.

As always, a huge thank you goes out to my wonderful beta @onceuponadisneypotter (AO3) and my two amazing artists:@thisisartyannaand @captainodonoghue! You can find the story on ff.net, as well.

"If we know where Morgause is keeping Calie, what are we waiting for?" Milah asked.

They were all sitting around the table in the main hall, save for Nimue, Regina, Henry and Kara. They tried to keep the children out of the fight as much as possible, much to their dismay, but it just seemed irresponsible to let them participate. Regina was still nowhere to be found. The Lady of the Lake, on the other hand, had kept her promise to not help them, and Morgana's interference, which gave Morgause free passage to Avalon, had only made things worse.

"Nimue mentioned a place Morgause used for cover a long time ago," David reasoned. "We don't have any proof that she still does, and even keeps your daughter there."

"It's the only clue we've got," Milah said stubbornly.

Killian thoughtfully scratched his beard with his thumb.

"It might be worth looking at," he said.

Emma raised an eyebrow. Was he seriously considering this? Milah was grasping at straws.

"If she does keep Calie there, she will likely guard it. How do we get past her?"

"We need a distraction," Milah said as a matter of fact. Her voice was commanding, as if she was giving orders rather than making suggestions. "Then, while she's gone, one, maybe two people sneak inside and get our daughter."

The way she looked at Killian left no doubt as to who she thought that second person should be.

"We don't have th means to distract her," Emma said, deciding to intervene before anyone thought this was a good idea. "We already saw how powerful she is, there is nothing we can do to make her leave that place and risk losing Calie. If she is keeping her there, of course. We still don't know that."

"Yeah, she could probably fight all of us at once," David agreed. "Especially if Gold is helping her."

"Exactly," Emma said firmly. "I get that you want to find her as soon as possible, but if we attack her, we lose."

She suddenly realized that with Gold and Regina gone, and Morgana and Calie bound to Avalon, she was the only one with magic if they decided to fight Morgause. And she was clearly no match for her.

Milah didn't seem happy with the answer, but she seemed to accept that she was outvoted. For now.

"In that case, we should focus on finding Regina," Robin said. "She is probably in trouble. And we need her if we want to stand any chance at all."

"I'm worried as well," Snow said. "She wouldn't leave for this long without telling anywhere."

"Well, she did," Emma said. "Robin, no offense, but Regina chose to go off alone. I get that you wanna find her, and so do I, but we don't even know where to start searching. She has magic, she can just poof herself wherever she wants to go."

"So you just want to sit here and do nothing at all?" Milah asked sharply.

Emma opened her mouth, but before she could respond, Kara entered the room.

"That's exactly what we should do," she said, sitting down at the taböe. Henry closely followed her, not looking up as he sat down next to Belle.

"I thought you were told to go to bed!" Morgana said, looking at her daughter.

"Morgause plans to sacrifice me and Henry's sister, this concerns us, too," Kara said stubbornly. "As I said, we should just wait. Force her to make a move."

"How would that help us?" David asked. "We're not prepared to fight her, especially not on her terms!"

"It wouldn't be on her terms," Kara argued. "She needs mother and me, and if we don't come to her, she has to come to us."

"It's brilliant," Henry agreed. "Morgause can come to Avalon now, so we should let her. Nimue won't let Kara and Morgana leave, but if the fight is here, they can help. Together, we can bring Morgause down."

"Plus, if we're fighting in her precious home, Nimue will help us," Kara added.

"We can't just leave Calie in her power until she decides to come here!" Milah protested.

"She will be safe," Kara said. "She needs her alive for the ritual, she won't risk anything happening to her, as Nimue said."

"Just because Nimue said it, it's not okay," Morgana said sharply. "Quite the opposite actually."

Kara raised an eyebrow at her across the table. "Are you afraid I'll turn into her? Don't worry, I won't. But it's the smart thing to do."

David sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I think she's right. There's nothing else we can do, she's too powerful."

Killian nodded slowly. "I think you're right. Besides, if we bring the fight to her, Calie will be in danger, we cannotrisk her getting caught in the crossfire."

Milah quietly muttered an agreement, but she didn't seem happy. Emma couldn't blame her. Looking at Henry, she realized that she would act exactly the same if he was being held captive somewhere. And Calie was just a baby and therefore a lot more vulnerable and fragile.

Unbidden, a picture of Calie came to her mind, lying in her crib and sleeping. And suddenly, Emma truly realized that her life was on the line. They might not get her back. She might die. Killian would be devastated, and so would she. So far she had only seen this as another mission, and Calie as what stood between her and Killian.

But maybe she had gotten attached to her in the last few months. And maybe she had acted stupid and jealous by making a baby responsible for problems in her relationship. Calie, after all, only wanted a home with a family who loved her. She didn't mean to drive anyone apart.

Emma felt stupid for just thinking these obvious things, but somehow, it felt as if she was only now thinking clearly. She clutched her hands into fists under the table, where no one could see, nails digging into her palms. They just had to find her.

"It's not enough," Milah said when everyone else had left. She was furiously pacing the room, arms crossed in front of her chest. "We can't just wait, there has to be something else we can do."

"I know," Killian mumbled. "But they're right. We can't beat Morgause on our own."

"What happened to you?" Milah asked, clearly disappointed. "You used to do whatever you thought was right, without looking back or spending hours worrying about what might g wrong!"

"You mean without thinking about the consequences," he said. "Like when I took you with me and didn't think about the child you were leaving behind."

"That wasn't you," she snapped. "It's not your burden to bear. I left him, and I will never forgive myself. But I made that choice, not you."

"But I didn't care," he said. "I didn't even question it, because I was scared that you would change your mind and stay with him. It was selfish. And you're right, a younger me would've plunged into this fight head first and gone to find her. And maybe I would've survived. Maybe she would've. But I can't rely on a maybe, not with my daughter. I have more than me to think about."

"She's my daughter, too, you know that, right?" she said quietly.

"Of course she is, it just slipped out...," he mumbled.

She shrugged, fingers threading through the material of the dress Nimue had given her. "It's fine, I understand. You raised her so far, with Emma. You didn't even know I was alive."

She tugged her hair behind her ear, giving him the chance to better look at her from the side.

His mother had healed her, but she was still incredibly thin and worn out. He wondered how she had managed not to lose her mind in that cell. He himself had never been imprisoned for more than a few weeks. Most of the time, in the waters that he faired, you didn't survive much longer than that. You could either flee from prison or be executed.

But Morgause had kept Milah for nine months, and another four in the knowledge that her child was in the hands of a lunatic witch. But she had always been mentally strong.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said, earning him a surprised look. "I know things are different now. Me being with Emma, 200 years later. I'm not the man you knew anymore. But it's still good to see you."

Milah smiled. "Thanks," she whispered.

Emma dug through piles of linen and leather on her quest for something more comfortable to wear. The wardrobe that they were allowed to use was quite big and contained more clothing than she had ever seen in one place, but most of it were dresses. Not really her first choice when preparing for a fight.

It seemed ridiculous, but choosing the right outfit was the only way she felt she could prepare. If she wore something that she could move and wield a sword in, no matter how useless a sword would be in this fight, then maybe she'd feel like they stood a chance.

She didn't even know if she needed to be ready now, or in a week, or maybe even a month. Waiting for Morgause to come to them might put them in a better position because that way, they could choose the ground, but Morgause could choose the time. They had no way of knowing when she would strike. They had to be ready every moment of every day and night. It had only been a few hours, but it was already straining.

None of them knew how she would strike. Would she announce her arrival? Would she sneak in and quietly take them out one by one? Try to kidnap Morgana and Kara when they were alone? Bring Calie with her and use her a leverage?

Every creak was suspicious. Every shadow could try to kill her.

Emma closed the wardrobe with an exasperated sigh. She wouldn''t find anything here. Maybe she should try to find another one. It would certainly keep her busy.

"Swan?"

She jumped at the sound of her name, spinning around and half lifting her hand in case she had to protect herself.

Killian was standing in the doorframe, still dressed in his ballrobes, save for the coat. He looked tired and worn out, with dark bags under his somewhat cloudy eyes. When was the last time he really slept? When was the last time anyone of them really slept?

"Hey," she said with a fleeting smile.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nodding towards the wardrobe.

She shrugged, sliding her hand over the closed wooden door.

"Trying to find something better to wear. This doesn't exactly qualify as combat clothing."

She pointed down her dress.

"I'll doubt you'll find anything here," he said, pronouncing what she had already suspected. He pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room.

"The le Fay's seem to be very fond of their long dresses. I suppose if you have magic, you don't need  practical clothes to force an enemy to his knees."

"It still wouldn't hurt," Emma muttered.

He nodded, coming closer yet again. He was now standing so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, her shoulder still turned to him. She sensed that there was something he struggled to say. She looked up, turning to face him.

"What is it?" she asked.

Killian swallowed, and his forehead slightly creased.

"If I... If I don't make it, I just wanted to say goodbye," he said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, eyes blown wide.

"Morgause doesn't need me," he continued. "I'm just in her way. I won't hold back, I can't, not with my daughter in her hands, but I don't have magic to defend myself. She could kill me with a thought if she wanted to."

Emma stared at him, refusing to let the truth of his words sink in.

"That won't happen," she stated, trying to convince herself as much as him. "You've been in so many fights, you survived in Neverland for two hundred years. You won't get killed by some crazy witch!"

Even as she said those words she was aware that her argument was weak. Suddenly it hit her that she could lose him. Not just him; her parents, her friends, her own life. And if they failed, Morgause would get through to Henry and little Neal.

She felt the fear clawing at her gut and gripping it with icy hands.

"I was just lucky," Killian said, but she barely heard him. "And I never faced a demon as powerful as her.

She saw her own fear reflected in his eyes. He wasn't just saying goodbye in case he didn't make it, he expected that he wouldn't. Morgause was an enemy he'd feared since childhood, and normally he would do anything to avoid a confrontation with her, but she didn't leave him a choice. She had his child.

"If I should die, promise me that you will take care of Calie," he continued, nervously licking his lips. "Please. I need to know that she'll be safe."

She nodded, stubbornly blinking away the tears stinging in her eyes. "We'll take care of her together," she said. She raised her hand to his face, cupping his cheek and feeling the scruff. It was longer than usual, since he didn't really have the time to shave. "You'll see her grow up. We'll raise her together."

She tried not to think about where Milah stood in that equation. That was a problem they could tackle once all this was over. She and Regina had found an agreement, as well, after all.

"But just in case," he insisted.

"I promise," she whispered.

Emma's hand slid to the back of his head and she pulled him in, kissing him slowly and deeply. She pressed him closer, standing on her tiptoes as he slid his arms around her. She came up for air, but dove right in, trying to inhale every part of him. Maybe, if she held him closely enough, he wouldn't go away, and she wouldn't lose him.

Their kiss grew more passionate, and her hand raked through his dark hair, trying to hold onto him. The door closed at a flick of her hand as she pushed him towards the bed, fingers already working on the thread on his linen shirt.

He let out a gasp when his knees hit the bed and he was forced to sit down, but it was muffled by her mouth on his. She straddled his lap, finally breaking the kiss to rest her forehead against his. Her fingers were still gripping his now loose collar. She could hear him quietly panting.

"My parents could come in any second," she whispered, trying to be reasonably.

"Mmh," he hummed, leaning forward to pepper her neck with light kisses.

Her hands slid to the back of his shoulders for support.

"And we should be ready to fight in case Morgause comes."

She heard a quiet groan of disapproval as Killian's hands slid down her legs to the hem of her dress. She couldn't agree more.

"To hell with her," she muttered, dragging his shirt up over his head and lunging in for another kiss.

That witch wouldn't destroy this quiet moment.

When Killian entered the room, he found his mother and sister talking. They didn't notice him at first, and he stood in the doorframe, watching them with a smile on his lips. Sometimes he felt the urge to pinch himself, to be certain that he wasn't dreaming. His mother and sister, alive and well, could that really be true?

"When I had to stay at the castle, I told you to go to Avalon," Morgana said quietly. "Why didn't you?"

Kara shrugged, grinding her teeth and looking at the ground.

"I wanted to save you first."

"You would've been much safer with Nimue, and she could've helped me as well," Morgana argued.

"All I knew about her was that she abandoned you as a baby!" Kara snapped.

Killian couldn't help but smile. She had a point. He didn't trust Nimue either.

He shifted on his feet, and Morgana turned his head. She smiled, gesturing for him to come and sit next to them on the bed.

"I already told Kara about Liam," his mother said.

Kara looked away, her eyes shining suspiciously. Killian remembered how close she and Liam had been. Back then, he'd been the annoying baby brother they had to look after. They were much closer in age, always taking off together. Only later, when their father had left them, things had changed. Liam had started taking care of him, acting not just as his older brother, but as his parent, as well.

For Kara, Liam's death must be a shock. She remembered all of them as children, and suddenly she heard her best friend and brother was dead, and her baby brother a two hundred year old pirate.

"You told me about Liam, but what about Brennan?" Morgana asked. "Did he die, too? Did you and Liam grow up alone?"

Her eyes were filled with worry.

Killian felt a lump in his throat as he remembered his father lying on the ground, the knife protruding from his body. How could he tell them?

"He left us," he said. It was true, he had. Did he really have to tell them what happened more than a century after? "He booked passage on a ship and sailed away in the middle of the night, trading Liam and me for a boat."

"What?" Morgana asked, sucking in her breath.

"He wouldn't do that!" Kara exclaimed.

"He did," Killian said grimly. "He gambled away all his money, and when the soldiers waited for him to arrest him, the only thing he had left to offer were Liam and me."

"What happened after?" Morgana whispered, eyes blown wide.

"Well, we served on that ship for almost ten years. First under one captain, then another when the first one died. And then we managed to get into the Royal Navy." He decided to leave out Captain Flint's general treatment of the crew and the eye of the storm. "You know what happened after."

"And you never saw our father again?" Kara asked in disbelief.

Killian hesitated, deciding that he had to tell the truth.

"I did," he said quietly. "One more time, centuries later."

Quietly, he told them what happened and how he killed him to help his quest for revenge.

"You killed our father?" Kara whispered, looking at him in utter disbelief.

He could vividly imagine how he turned from her grown baby brother into a monster in her eyes within seconds.

"It did," he said, closing his eyes. "I wish I hadn't, but it's too late now."

His mother gently grabbed his hand. "You were angry," she said calmly. "And he hurt you."

"How could you?" Kara said between tears.

Killian opened his mouth, but he didn't know how to respond. Kara stormed out, wiping away her tears.

He wanted to go after her, but his mother stopped him.

"Let her. She'll calm down eventually," she said.

"No, she's right," Killian mumbled, turning to her. "I killed our father."

He frowned, looking at her. "Doesn't that bother you?"

She gently brushed a strand of hair out of his face. "It's not how I imagined things, but I'm glad you're alive at all."

He shook his head. "The last time you saw me, I was a little boy. I came back as a pirate. I was a villain. I killed dozens, probably hundreds of people. I killed my stepfather, your husband. You didn't even blink. How can you pretend like that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

"Because it's nothing compared to what she did," suddenly someone said behind him.

Killian spun around. Regina stood in the doorframe, her face stern as always.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're back," he stated.

"I didn't expect you to miss me," she said cooly. "Aren't you curious where I went?"

"I assume you're about to tell me," he sighed.

Regina entered the room. If she was in any fight while she was away, her clothes didn't show it, being smooth and clean as always.

"I went to Dumnonia. Or, what's left of it."

"Dumnonia?" Killian asked, growing more and more confused. "Isn't that the kingdom Morgause destroyed?"

"Morgause didn't do that," Regina said, looking at Morgana. "Did she?"

"How can you be so sure?" Killian asked, looking at the two women.

"Because the spell is still up. Arthur said Morgause found a way to break it, but it's not broken. I couldn't enter. I only saw the damage from outside the gates. Whoever did it wasn't affected by the blood magic."

"A relative of Igraine?" Killian asked, still confused. "Who has magic in her family?"

"Not of Igraine. You know, I have given it some thought. Arthur mentioned he visited Dumnonia with his father, which means that Uther could enter. And so could Igraine and her family. The only person tying them together is Arthur, which means that the spell is linked to him. So whoever destroyed the kingdom and killed everyone has magic and is closely related to him."

Regina looked at Morgause. "I can only think of one person who fulfills these criteria."

Killian looked at his mother. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, half laughing.

Morgana's eyes met his before fixing on the ground. She was nervously picking her fingers.

"No," he whispered, his heart sinking to his stomach.

"She's Morgause's secret weapon," Regina continued. "I knew we couldn't trust her."

"Killian," Morgana started, breaking off.

"Please tell me this isn't true," he said quietly.

"I didn't have a choice!" she said, her voice shaking.

"No choice but to... slaughter an entire kingdom?"

"Morgause was threatening you, she would've killed you!" Morgana whispered.

Killian shook his head, clenching his jaw. Without another word, he left the room.

[thisisevenharderthannamingablog]

A Wondrous Adventure (3/4)

OUaT/Captain Swan

S6 canon divergence

7500 words

Mild swearing

AO3 / Ch 1 on Tumblr / Ch 2 on Tumblr

Author’s Note: Continuing my 6b canon divergence, this chapter replaces “Awake” with a very different means of getting our adventuring couple home, and a resolution to the sleeping curse that is more to my liking. I hope you enjoy it. Graciously beta-read by the delightful @ripplestitchskein.

“My parents? What happened?” Emma said. The rest of the world faded from her awareness, whatever Killian had been about to ask her forgotten.

“Um. Regina thought she had a way to break the curse on them. It looks like she made it worse.”

“What?! How is it worse?” The rest of them had tried every combination of kissers and kissees they could think of, to no avail. True love was a complicated business.

“She was trying to help. But at sundown they’re both going to be asleep. They won’t be able to wake each other up any more.”

“So they’ll both be in the Netherworld forever….”

“...And they can’t touch there,” Henry finished. “She’s trying to find a solution now, but--”

“Maybe she should stop doing that. Christ.” She looked at Killian, who grimaced understanding and squeezed her hand.

“I don’t know what to do,” Henry said, his voice breaking.

“It’ll be okay,” Emma said. “They’ll be okay. They’re old hands at this stuff. Lemme think, sundown there is… we’ve got about twelve hours?”

“Yeah. Yeah, a little more maybe.”

“We will be there. We will think of a way. And I will stop the goddamn sun from setting if I have to, until we can break this curse.”

“Okay. I believe you. Thanks, mom.”

“See you tonight.” Emma tucked the shell away and stood. “So much for the scenic route. Let’s get back to the palace. Looks like we might be taking the genie back after all. I can poof us back to the island and--” And then what? They didn’t know any better than before how to break the curse. The tavern felt close and hot now, the curious eyes of strangers threatening.

“There may be another way,” Killian said.

“What? Of getting home?”

“You asked earlier if I knew anyone here. Not in this city, perhaps, but elsewhere in this realm I believe I have at least one acquaintance. Past time he divulged his secret.” 

They gathered their few belongings and some supplies, and made hasty farewells at the palace.

“I’m sure we will meet again soon,” Nemo said, clasping Killian’s shoulder. “We will make all haste and return to Storybrooke, in case we might be of aid.”

“We’ll be there,” Killian said. “With apologies, Your Highness--”

“Of course, we understand,” Jasmine said. “If there is anything we can do you have only to ask.”

“Just need to borrow a mirror,” Emma said. “We’re in a hurry.”

Five minutes later, with the mirror before them, Emma asked, “So where are we going? I don’t recognize this place.” The scene her magic showed them could have been any street in any town in the Enchanted Forest, populated with carts and vendors and stray livestock. The problem with mirror viewing was that there wasn’t any zoom feature, and she could only teleport to a place she could visualize in detail. Showing up in the middle of the street would tip their hands, to say the least.

“I do,” Killian said. “It’s on the southern border of Aurora’s kingdom. Always rough territory, no doubt a lawless zone again since she and her prince were removed to Storybrooke.”

“But if I take us to her palace, we’ll be pretty close?”

“Aye, it should--”

Blink.

“--Do. Bloody hell, I will never get used to that.”

Emma grinned, covering some of her tension as the cloud of black and white smoke dissipated. “It’s not my favorite means of travel, but it does the job.” Ringed by low hills, the dry landscape of Aurora’s kingdom stretched before them. Behind them, the palace showed no sign of life. “Looks like it did the first time I saw it. Like everyone is gone again.”

“The land was all but deserted while Aurora lay beneath the sleeping curse. Rumor has it that Maleficent set many dangers about it, enchanted beasts and traps. Some may yet linger; they had little more than a year in which to begin restoring it before Zelena took them.”

“That sucks.” She looked up at the crumbling spires and broken windows. “Never say never, I guess, but right now all it means is that we’re stuck walking. We can figure out the plan of attack along the way.”

Killian gave Emma a parting kiss and walked from the alley out into the street, toward the waiting tavern doors. The walk across Aurora’s land had been well spent; he had neatly stored away his frustration at the timing of Henry’s interruption that morning. Of course Emma’s parents came first, and he was nearly as concerned about them as she was, but… he put the question he had not gotten to ask out of his mind, in favor of the battle ahead.

Sometimes in these moments, everything slowed down, as if time itself wished to know a moment’s pleasurable anticipation. It hadn’t always done so. For countless years, he had simply gone forward, blind as anything that lived always in the dark, with neither hope nor fear. Having something to fight for made the difference. This ought to be even more fun than the last time.

He pushed the door open and followed his shadow in. They were in luck; Blackbeard had claimed a prime spot at the central table, and from the looks of that table, he had been losing. The other players shot Killian a brace of unfriendly looks as he sauntered over. He recognized one of them vaguely, but ignored the man. He kept his motions deliberate as he tipped a pouch of glittering gems out onto the table.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Killian grinned. “Actually, yes I did.”

“Look what the tide brought in,” Blackbeard drawled, discarding a card. He did not look up. “Captain Hook.”

“Evening, Blackbeard.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re going to tell me what it is that brings you here to interrupt my game.”

“By the looks of that, I’d say I did you a favor.” He nodded at Blackbeard’s remaining stake.

Blackbeard finally deigned to glower at him. “If you’d like one in return, I’m only too happy to oblige.” He stood up and drew his sword.

“As luck would have it, I do need a favor.” Killian maintained his smile. “A magic bean, to be exact. I got one from you before; I’m willing to bet that you know where another is to be found.”

“You bet, do you?” Blackbeard chuckled and lowered his sword. “Not with that sorry lot of baubles.”

“Yes I know, the going rate is your weight in gold. Fortunately, I can offer you that, in a bit more easily portable form.” He stirred the jewels around with his hook. “This is but a taste.”

Blackbeard showed his teeth at that, but roared out a laugh. “No pirate has that sort of gold. Don’t tell me you’re working for a king these days.”

Killian let the smile fade a bit. “Don’t be as foolish as you look. You know how long I spent in Neverland. Time enough to accumulate a great deal of treasure. Might be enough to outfit a new ship -- assuming you can acquire one, since it appears you lost that, too.”

“Are you trying to antagonize me?”

“Yes.”

“One might almost think you were in a hurry.”

“I’ve grown to dislike wasted time. Shall we?”

Blackbeard spent a long moment rolling the idea around before he sheathed his sword. “All right. I’ll hear this tale out, Captain.” He nodded to his fellow players, who vacated the table. Killian sat down. “As it happens, I don’t have a bean on me. The market is a small one, you know. Not many can pay what they’re worth. But I know where one can be found. Not far from here.”

“Then we each know the location of something of great value to the other. Surely we can come to an arrangement.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to trade you a bean for a map to this supposed haul.”

“Of course not. I’ll take you there personally.” Killian picked up a deck and shuffled it with practiced ease. The gems lay winking on the table between them. “And then you can get back to your game.”

After a long moment, Blackbeard’s eyes creased in a smile. “Keep talking, Captain. And deal.”

Two hands later, Blackbeard scooped up the jewels and said, “We have a bargain.” They left one of his companions to settle the bill and went out into the street. Emma left off pacing and turned with folded arms.

“Well?” she said. “That took long enough.”

Blackbeard looked her up and down and grunted. “What’d you have to sell for this one? Or wait, don’t tell me this is the wench you traded your ship to me for.”

Emma sensibly ignored him and looked at Killian. “So we’re going?”

“We have a deal,” Killian said, and walked her a few steps, out of earshot. “Blackbeard will provide us with a means to return to Storybrooke. It’s not far from here, as it happens. Our old stomping grounds near the Siren’s Lake.”

“You don’t mean….?” She looked at Blackbeard again. “That guy? Climbed a beanstalk? All right, that should be easy enough. The place is abandoned now.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I very much doubt that he’s told me everything, but Blackbeard appears to have not availed himself of the treasure that languishes in the giants’ keep. Surely there’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, and I can’t wait to figure it out after we get out of here. We are running out of time, and Cloud City is a no-go zone in terms of magical transport. If we can get what we need without making another stop on the way home, I’m all for it.”

“We’ll see what we find. Worst case, you can go on to Storybrooke while I deal with Blackbeard.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Screw that, I’m not leaving you here. The last thing we need right now is getting separated. Let’s go find the damn beanstalk then -- again.”

Blackbeard insisted that they each carry a sack of grain on their journey, would not explain why, and regaled them the entire way with tales of his conquests. Killian wasn’t sure whether he or Emma was more tempted to stave the man’s teeth in by way of silencing him. Fortunately for all of them, the journey was not long, though Killian found it surpassing strange to tread paths he had last known as Cora’s associate. Revenge-driven, death-bound, without hope -- none of them had any inkling of what had been set in motion.  

“What’s that smile for?” Emma asked.

“Recalling how fiercely you glared at me, the last time we were in this land.”

“To be fair, you were being kind of an ass.”

“And you were brilliant.” Seeing through his every stratagem, leaving him off-balance, intrigued even by her betrayal, she had given him the first reason in many years to wish that things were different. Half lost in memories, he nevertheless took note of the horizon. The beanstalk loomed to their left, a growing thread that would soon dominate the sky. Clouds over the hills suggested rain on the way. “Either this path does not follow the route I remember….”

“Or we’re not actually going to the beanstalk.” Emma stopped walking. “Any idea where he might be leading us? I forgot to ask Jasmine for a map.”

Killian shook his head. “The land grows wet and difficult in a few miles. There are no towns out here, and no major routes that might be haunted by bandits, uniformed or otherwise. So, no.”  

“He’d better not be messing with us.”

They half-walked, half-slid down the next slope -- down, and farther down, as Killian had remembered. Springs bubbled out of the hillside and ran together into chuckling streams that pooled in the low ground ahead. The way grew swampy.  The path turned and hugged the edge of the dry ground until the pools to their right merged into a shallow lake. A lively chorus of birds and insects sang in the reeds.

“This looks like a good spot,” Blackbeard said at last. The path had widened into a field. Short, scrubby grass grew among the rocky outcrops, and the reeds had fallen away as the lake deepened, leaving clear water on that side.

“For what?” Emma said, putting her hands on her hips. “A picnic?”

“Spread some of that grain out, and we’ll wait.”

“We’ll wait? Look buster, I don’t know if you’ve figured this out, but I am not really in a patient place today, and I am getting closer to a punching place every minute.”

“You don’t say.” Blackbeard looked at Killian. “Really, Hook. If you tell anyone I said so I’ll cut out your tongue, but you were a passable pirate, once. This one hardly seems worth all the….” He made a chattering gesture with his hand. “Mouthiness.”

“I wouldn’t make any casual threats, were I you,” Killian said. “If you’re that anxious to reprise our conversation aboard the Jolly Roger, I’ll be pleased to oblige, once our mission is complete. Now answer the lady.”

“You’ll see soon enough.” He set to scattering grain. “Come on, the both of you, if you’re in such a hurry.”

Indeed, the birds quickly discovered the new supply of bounty. Inside of a quarter hour, the meadow wore a noisy feathered carpet. Blackbeard scanned the sky and finally gave a satisfied bark and pointed.

“There. Told you it wouldn’t be long.”

Killian shaded his eyes and studied the sky, and found himself at an unusual loss for words.

“Oh no,” Emma said. “Absolutely not. You didn’t mention this last time.”

“It didn’t seem relevant,” Killian said. “And I confess I didn’t realize their size.”

“Giant. Golden. Geese.” Two pairs of wings darkened the sun. The animals were on a scale to match their owners; the leader’s bass honk sounded through twenty feet of neck and nearly knocked the three of them over, but the birds ignored them.

“Appears so.”

“They live in the giants’ domain,” Blackbeard said. “But they like a free meal, as it turns out. They’ll eat this and then head for home, up there. The eggs are on the rich side, I’ve found, but one can acquire a taste for them.”

“And we’re going to hitch a ride,” Emma said.

“If you’re as determined as you say you are to get back home.” Blackbeard grinned. “They barely notice the weight.”

Emma sighed. “I guess it will be faster than climbing, and that’s after I figure out a way around the blocking spells. Sure, why not. Let’s do it.”

“Why let us in on your secret?” Killian studied him through narrowed eyes, trying to detect a trap.

“You were hardly going to let me go off alone to get a bean or two. And besides, you’ve made it amply clear that your only interest in this realm is in leaving it. Why shouldn’t I encourage that? Clear the field of dilettantes. It’s a changed world here, you know. Plenty of opportunities for a bold man.”

“You’re welcome to them.” He looked at the birds, then at Emma. “Shall we, Swan?”

“I gotta admit,” Emma yelled, “this is quite a view!” The rush of the wind past her ears made her doubt that Killian had heard her, but that might have been an answering chuckle behind her. The Enchanted Forest lay spread out beneath them. The dusty patchwork of Aurora’s realm ended abruptly at the ocean and faded more gently into the greener land to the north, the whole seamed by rivers and roads and dotted with villages whose smoke drifted up to the sky. Above them, Emma noted, the clouds were very close. Her mount’s wings pumped strongly twice, and then they were in the clouds and through, almost before she could be alarmed at the thought of what, exactly, they were inside of.

On this side, the sun shone bright. Fields that had once been farmed by Anton’s family lay in weedy tangles. The castle ruins hulked nearby. The geese slowed and banked over the fields.

“This is where we get off,” Blackbeard hollered, and jumped.

“Of course we do,” Emma muttered. She let go of the golden feathers and managed a rolling landing without grace, but also without injury, cushioned by a bed of weeds. Killian landed a few feet away. They thrashed their way clear of the outside plants and caught their breath. “That was one hell of a ride.” The geese waddled off toward their pond, giving the occasional deafening honk.

“Ought to do it again.” Killian grinned at her.

“We’ll go to Six Flags this summer, you can try all the roller coasters.” She bounced on her toes and felt the ground solid under her boots, not cloudlike at all, and decided not to ask.

Blackbeard had survived well enough to roll his eyes. “If you two will watch the castle, I’ll go find what we’re here for. A few of the bean plants have gone feral, but they move around from year to year.”

“Watch it for what?” Emma said. “This place hasn’t been inhabited in years, the last giant left in the realms is riding a tractor in Storybrooke.”  

“Is he now? I’d advise you to keep away from it anyway, and keep an eye out.” He jogged off toward the fields.

Emma watched him go, and the way he constantly checked the horizon all around. “He’s in a big hurry.”

“Aye. One does wonder if the vermin are as outsize as the rest of the dwellers?”

“That could be it. I can probably handle a rat if we meet one. You want to check out the castle? I can’t figure out what it is, but something looks different here,” she said.

“The sun is out, for one thing, but you’re right.” Killian nodded. “Shall we?”

“You really do want to see if the gold is still there.” Emma couldn’t stop a smile at this realization.

“Perhaps? Call it academic interest.”

They set off, Emma still trying to figure out what had changed, and reached the courtyard at the top of the beanstalk.

“It looks… cleaner,” she said. “It’s not just the daylight.” Broken windows gaped in the walls, and vines grew over them, but the rubble in the courtyard had been swept into a tidy pile, and there was no sign of the skeletal remnants of the last battle. “And I’m hardly the tracker my mom is, but I don’t see any footprints or anything.”

“Aye. Someone has been here. Or something.” Killian paced a circle around the stalk’s terminus.

Emma kept one eye on the great hall, but nothing moved there as she climbed the head-high pile of stones for a better view, and she heard nothing but the wind. “Some of these rocks are huge. Maybe a new family of giants moved in? You’d think Blackbeard would have just said.”

“I suspect he enjoys being obscure.”

“Enjoys needling you, you mean. I wonder…. Killian.” She stopped short.

“Yes?”

“Come over here.” She thought that she sounded commendably calm, under the circumstances.

“What is it?” He hastened to the base of the pile.

“It’s up here.” When he got there, she was gratified to see the question die before he could ask it. “Am I wrong, “ she said, “or does that look like a baby tree up there?”

“You are never going to allow me to forget that, are you.”

She squeezed his hand. “What do you think?”

“I think we may have something here that could help your parents.”

“I really, really hope so. Let’s go see.” They climbed the rest of the way up the pile, where a few green leaves fluttered against the stone. The sapling was taller than it had looked from below, partially hidden by the rocks through which it had grown. “Seriously?” Emma realized that she was grinning. “Is this really a thing?”

“I think it is, Swan.” He touched a branch with a wondering expression. She knew what he was thinking, the same thing she was: We made this, a little piece of magic, of life, without ever knowing, with so much still ahead of us. “What now?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But it was supposed to be magic powerful enough to defeat the Evil Queen’s. Maybe we just need to get enough love in one place, for that to work. Do you think we need all of it?” Emma grimaced. “I’d hate to kill it.”

“Aye, that doesn’t seem proper. A part might suffice.”

“I hope so. This branch?” She traced one from the trunk to its cluster of brilliant leaves. “I wonder what the flowers look like.”

“Perhaps we can come back and find out. For now, I fear we’ve little time.” He set his hook to the base of the branch she held and--

They were standing in that same place but all was darkness, her arms and legs ached from the climb and her hand was bleeding and

Oh no

If she kissed him nothing would change everything changed

His ship was gone her magic was gone son of a bitch a partner

She kissed him again and everything changed again and

I love you

The sword was in her hand was in his heart

Tears underground and then tears in the rain and they were

--Standing in the castle courtyard, next to a young tree that trembled in the breeze.

“Jesus, you’d think Mom would have mentioned.” Emma blinked a few times, hard. The two of them had drawn closer together while the memories flowed, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder.

“You all right?” Killian looked hardly less shaken than she felt, but his hand was warm in hers, steadying the both of them.

“I think so. That was… intense.”

“Quite. Ready?” At her nod, he made a sharp cut with his hook, and the branch came away in Emma’s hand.

“Looks almost like a wand,” she said, and healed the cut spot on the sapling’s trunk. “Hope you don’t mind too much, little guy, but some people I love kinda need this. Grow nice and big, okay?” It would not have surprised her if the tree had answered, but it didn’t. “Killian, why don’t you hold onto this?” Emma passed him the branch. He looked surprised, so she added, “I know all of your coats have magic pockets, that tailor is a witch. We don’t want to lose that. Want to check on the treasure?”

“Aye, that is what we came to look at.” He tucked the branch into his jacket. They climbed down the rubble pile and waited for a moment, but no threat emerged from the cavernous hall.

The new owners had tidied up inside as well. The hall had been stacked with treasure higher than their heads on both sides, but all of that was gone. They exchanged a glance and slowed down without need for speech, moving quietly and keeping to the shadows. When Killian stopped, Emma did, too. He touched his ear; she listened harder. That sound could just be the wind. She raised her eyebrows; should they go on? He nodded. Emma flexed her hands, a nervous habit she had not managed to get rid of before using magic. They moved slowly toward the main hall.

That solved the mystery of where the treasure had all gone. The giant table and other furnishings were no more; the gold and jewels that had survived tides of human marauders had been heaped at the center of the room. It was occupied.

That is a dragon, Emma mouthed silently at Killian.

He frowned and held up two fingers.

Fine, whatever, that is two dragons. Emma watched for a moment. They appeared to be asleep, comfortably entwined on their golden bed, careless as only enormous flying armored predators could be. Whether the blissful scene meant that a clutch of little dragons was going to arrive to terrorize the Enchanted Forest soon or not, Emma didn’t see any reason to wake them.

They backed out of the hall without making a sound. That treasure could stay exactly where it was.

They rendezvoused with Blackbeard near the pond, where the pirate sat carving hunks off a fallen apple big enough to use for a chair. He laughed when he saw the pair of them look over their shoulders.

“Didn’t find any gold, eh.”

“Guess not. Did you find the bean?” Emma asked.

“If I didn’t, how do you suppose we would be getting down from here?”

“Maybe you could jump. Can we get on with this?”

“Always wanted to see Neverland.” Blackbeard reached into the pouch at his side and drew out a translucent bean. “Who wants to do the honors?” He chuckled, probably at Killian’s expression.

“I’ll do it.” He took the bean and held it up to the sun for a moment, then threw it. The ground began to glow where it fell.

Neverland had changed. Emma could tell that with the first breath she took on the far side of the portal -- the air was cold. The jungled island she remembered so well had been replaced by a forest, the kind she had always imagined in fairy tales -- huge, gnarled trees that blocked out the sun immediately beyond the beach.

“What the hell?” she said. “Are we in the right place?”

“We are,” Killian said. “I know this beach, those rocks. This is where I intended to bring us. The rest has changed -- rather dramatically, I should say.”

“Maybe because Pan’s gone?” Emma looked out toward Skull Rock. Creepers had grown over one of the eyes, and no light shone in the cave’s depth.  

“Who cares,” Blackbeard said. “We’re here for my treasure, let’s get it. Unless you’re trying to cheat me,” he added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Killian said. “Follow the shore until a stream comes out of the forest, then we--” An arrow zipped past his head and splintered against a rock at the water’s edge.

Emma threw a protection spell into place without thinking; the next arrow bounced off of it.

“What the hell?” she said. “There shouldn’t be anyone here. The Lost Boys are all in Storybrooke.” Another arrow flew. “Oh to hell with this.” A wave of her hand took them away from the beach, to the shelf of stone at Skull Rock, out of reach of their attackers.

“Swan,” Killian said in a strangled voice. “That was--”

“Risky, yes, but there’s no dreamshade growing out here. Relax.” She glared in the direction of the main island.

Blackbeard finished patting himself down to make sure that all was present. “Do that again, and you can make your own way home from here.”

“Or I could send you back over there to get shot at.”

“We have a deal!”

“And it will be honored,” Killian said. “But first--” He ducked again as something that was not an arrow zoomed through the group. It had wings, and it doubled back to hover over them with folded arms and a frown.

“What are you doing here?” the flying figure demanded.

“Who are you?” Emma asked.

“My name is Tiger Lily.”  

“Really? But you’re a fairy.”

“You noticed!” She flew closer to examine Emma. “I am the guardian of this island. No adults should be in this realm. Not even that one.” She glanced darkly at Hook.  “And you used magic.”

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?” he said.

“No, but trust me, I’ve heard all about you.”

“Great.” Emma forced a smile. “Maybe we could start this conversation over? I’m Emma. I’m the--a Savior. Snow White’s daughter. We know Blue, if that helps. And you know Hook, kind of. That’s Blackbeard. Why is everything different here?”

Tiger Lily sighed and changed size. Even for a fairy, her gown was elaborate, ruffled and spangled and looking quite out of place in Neverland. “Look, after Pan left and ceased draining away the magic to support his twisted vision of immortality, this realm began to return to what it once was, a place where children of all lands adventure in their dreams. Because of their belief, there is pixie dust here again. Ever since the Dark Curse and its successors, the fairies who remain in the Enchanted Forest have taken it in turns to watch the children there, and so here I am. Now, I think it’s your turn.” She twirled her wand meaningfully.

“We’re here to retrieve some of Hook’s things from when he was here before, Pan’s time. We didn’t expect anyone to be here. Sorry if we startled you.”

“What things?”

“Buried treasure,” Killian said.

“Is that so.” Tiger Lily narrowed her eyes further, clearly suspicious. “And why should I allow you to trespass here to reclaim a pirate’s ill-gotten gains?”

“I might add that it was stolen from unrighteous kings and thieving merchants, other pirates, and the occasional murderous mermaid. Just the thing for the dreams of growing children.”

“That’s my treasure,” Blackbeard growled, putting his hand to his sword.

“Trust me, there’s more than enough to go around.” Killian watched Tiger Lily weigh his words while Emma tried to figure out what his game was. Was that just it? A game, to replace Pan’s lethal ones for the new children who came here--and went home again after their adventure was done, as they ought to?  

“Show me this alleged treasure,” Tiger Lily said, returning to her flying size. “And then I’ll decide.”

“We are in kind of a hurry,” Emma said. “We’re trying to help my parents.”

“You can tell me all about it on the way.”

“I know it sounds fantastic,” Emma finished.

“I’m a fairy,” Tiger Lily said. “Fantastic is kind of my job. And so is getting to the truth of things that seem unbelievable.”

While they talked, Killian led them with utter confidence despite the changes in the landscape. Night began to fall; Emma fretted, seeing the time grow shorter before the curse on her parents tightened its grip.

“Here,” he said at the cliff’s base, not far from where Baelfire had hidden all those years ago. The entrance was hidden by creepers. They cleared those away to reveal a dip in the ground that effectively made the cave entrance all but invisible. “Your treasure lies within.”

Blackbeard pushed past him, then paused just shy of the opening. “I would have put traps about any treasure of mine.”

“What for?” Killian shrugged. “The Lost Boys had no use for it. Pan could make them rivers of gold coins whenever he wanted to, using the island’s magic.”

“Is that so.” Blackbeard looked thoughtful, like maybe he was trying to summon such a river.

“It won’t work for you,” Tiger Lily said with an impatient sigh. “You’re old, mortal, and a cynic, with not an ounce of belief in anything. I will see if there is any danger.” She gave them all a suspicious look and darted past Blackbeard. A light grew from the tip of her wand. The captain grunted and followed her into the cave.

“Well,” Tiger Lily said, her voice echoing slightly. She sounded nonplussed.

“All right Hook, you’re not a liar,” Blackbeard called over his shoulder. “At least, not about this.”

Outside, Emma looked at Killian. “Why didn’t you take it when you left Neverland?”

“Didn’t have time. And this is just one stash, love. I had others that were easier to reach.” He shrugged and looked self-conscious. “After a century or so, it started to lose meaning really. Just a way of keeping score. Speaking of which.” Killian produced a small leather pouch from within his jacket and tossed it to Emma with a grin. She opened it; pale, glimmering magic beans lay jumbled within, some still in their pods, translucent as emeralds.

“When did you…?” She glanced at the cave mouth. Tiger Lily and Blackbeard were well out of sight, and even their voices had grown muffled as they explored the trove.

“Just now, while he was preoccupied with the thought of his payment. We’ll leave him one bean if you like, but I would just as soon not dodge the outsize wildlife next time we’re in need of a means to cross realms. And who knows, perhaps he’ll choose to stay on here. What would Neverland be without a pirate or two. Now, shall we go home?”

The portal dropped them outside the loft. A light snow fell onto Main Street. They had perhaps an hour until sunset. They climbed the steps to find the family gathered there. Regina sat at the kitchen table, lips pressed into a thin line, watching the dimming light. Henry sat opposite her, poring over the storybook as he did when he was worried; he bolted to his feet when the door opened.

“Mom! It’s good to have you back.” Henry hugged Emma until her ribs creaked.

“It’s good to be back.” Emma turned to the bed, where Snow sat, holding her husband’s hand. “And I think we’ve got something that can help.” Killian drew the wand from his jacket and passed it over; she took it gingerly, half-expecting another flood of memories, but it lay quietly in her hand. The leaves that still clung to it shivered, but maybe that was just her nerves.

“Emma.” Snow reached out to take Emma’s hand, too. She looked very calm and sad, and couldn’t seem to find any words.

“It’s going to be all right.” Emma closed her eyes for a moment. Love, it was love that would do this, if anything would. She remembered the days after the curse, how awkward hugs had turned comforting and strained conversations warm. Thought about her brother. Remembered the last time she had seen her parents stand together, unafraid. My family, and she loved them more than she once imagined she could. Magic pulled her deeper into the memories, a torrent rushing through her, pushing her conscious thoughts aside. Not long ago it would have terrified her. Now she waited out that initial fury, then focused all of it into the slim branch she held. She could feel it striving against the force that wrapped around her parents’ hearts, to no avail.

“It’s not working,” Regina snapped. “It’s not strong enough.”

Emma blinked. “Not quite,” she agreed, biting her lip as she lowered the wand. “We need… oh.” She looked from her anguished mother to her sleeping father to the branch in her hand.

“What is it?” Snow asked. “It’s nearly sunset. What else is there to try?”

“I think I know. Wait here,” she said. Killian caught her eye, no doubt guessing where she was going. Emma shook her head. “Keep an eye on them. I’ll be back soon.”

The shop bell jangled hard enough to jam itself.

“Good, you’re here,” Emma said. “I want to buy something.”

“Oh?” Gold looked up from the books he had spread across the counter, no doubt seeking a means to deal with his wayward son. “Now what can you want badly enough to break down my door.”

“Sands of Morpheus.”

He shook his head. “That won’t work.”

“Let me judge that. What do you want for it?”

Gold turned to the cabinet behind the counter and pulled out the bottle of sand. “I still don’t know how Gideon managed to use it the way he did, to wake Belle. But if you can’t wake your parents in this world, you can’t in their dream world, either.”

“Well then you’re gonna have a lot to laugh about today.”

“It has been a while since I met anything truly amusing.”

“Do you want to deal or not?”

He set the bottle down and studied her, a leisurely stare designed to get on her nerves. She returned it without blinking until he smiled and said, “What I would like, well, I suspect you won’t wish to trade.”

“A renewal of our non-interference deal? Hell, no. You’ve messed with me once too often for that. But we don’t have to have our showdown today. What else?”

“Your help in finding Gideon. Your word that no harm will come to him at your hand.”

Emma nodded. “Deal.”

“Then whether or not you succeed, I will have gained something of value.” He retrieved a vial from beneath the counter and tipped some of the sand into it. “Sweet dreams, Miss Swan.”

Emma returned just as the sun began to set. Nothing had changed at the loft, not that she had expected it to. Grim silence prevailed.

Snow jumped up when Emma came in. “That took more than a minute.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Emma said.

“What are you going to do?” Regina asked, narrow-eyed.

“We’re going to wait for the sun to set. Trust me,” Emma added. “This is going to work.” She pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down. “We’re all three going to do this, as a family. And I’m sure my baby bro would help out, if he could talk yet. Maybe next time.”

Snow shook her head, tears winking at the corner of her eyes, but she squeezed Emma’s hand. “We trust you, Emma.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath and arranged herself in the chair, then took up the wand again. Killian came over to stand behind her, his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled. “See you soon.”

“That had better be the case, Swan.” He kissed her forehead and stepped back, out of range of the sand’s effect.

Emma uncapped the vial with her thumb and dumped the contents over herself. The magic took effect quickly; between one blink and the next, she was in darkness.

A distant flicker of light suggested a destination, but she had nothing by which to gauge its size or distance. She reached out blindly and found nothing within arm’s reach. Beneath her the ground was cold and smooth, dusty marble.

“Allll right.” Emma took a breath and started forward, fixing her gaze on the light. Her mother, her father, her son had all been here; she knew how the curse’s dream-world worked. Even so, her grip on the wand tightened until her hand hurt, fighting off the creeping fear that she had made a terrible mistake, that she was in the wrong place, that she would be trapped here forever, that she would never see any of her family again. The darkness swallowed her footfalls, so the only sound was her own breath. She gritted her teeth and stomped onward, trying to make a noise, to make some kind of impact on this cold and silent world. The light grew brighter so slowly that for a long while she thought it was an illusion.

She ran smack into the mirror, so focused on the light she saw in it that she didn’t realize at first the faint shadow was her own reflection.

“I’ve been going the wrong way?” The light had been behind her all this time. Emma placed her palm on the glass and sagged against it, already feeling a crushing weariness that would never be relieved by slumber. “Fuck this. Idiot. How could I be so--” She stopped. “How could I forget.”

The rooms were walled with mirrors here, and her parents were on the far side. She just had to break through. A well-aimed boot with all the force of her anger and fear did the trick. Light and heat exploded through the gap, and she had to remind herself that this was a dream, and that the fire would respond to her fear if she let it. .

She found them in the center of the room, together -- as she had known they would be -- sitting where they could look at one another despite the leaping flames, unable ever to touch as long as the curse continued.

“Emma!” they both said at once, starting to their feet.

“Emma, what are you doing here?” David asked, reaching out for her before he remembered.

“It’s going to be okay, dad.” Emma couldn’t stop herself; she tried to grip his arm. Her hand passed right through him. “Didn’t you tell him?” she asked Snow.

“I was hoping you would change your mind. You shouldn’t be here,” her mother said. “It looks like even true love has limits.”

“You know, I’ve had moments where I doubted. Times when I didn’t believe. But now I just think that sometimes, even true love can use a helping hand. I helped you once before, under the Dark Curse, and I didn’t even know you. And I love you both, very much.” Emma raised the wand.

“Is that…?” David asked. Even under the circumstances, he could look happy for her.

“Ours? Yeah. Killian and I found it.” She could tell that it didn’t like being in this place, this cruel negative landscape intended to be forever loveless and alone. “Get ready, I don’t know how long I can do this.”

Once again, she called upon love -- their love for one another, all the stronger for being together, even in this terrible world, their love for her and hers for them. From outside the dream she drew more strength, the faith that Henry and Killian had in her, her longing to return to them, for their family to be whole after so many weary weeks.

The flames died back. A different kind of light grew, shining in the space between Emma and her parents, driving away the shadows. She didn’t have to tell them when; they had been straining toward another since she began the spell, and a single instant was all it needed, a second in which they were solid to one another, and their lips could touch.

Emma woke up as the dreamscape vanished, and found her parents still locked in a tearful kiss in this realm as they had been in the other, barely aware of anyone else, inarticulate with relief and joy, until they both sat bolt upright.

“Neal!” David looked at the crib.

“He’s at Granny’s,” Snow said. “I didn’t want him to be here when… well, if things didn’t work.”

“Well done.” Regina raised an eyebrow at Emma. “I’ll just go tell her the good news. She’ll be glad to be relieved of sitter duty, I suppose.”

“I’ll go, too,” Henry said in a hurried fashion, and with a glance at Killian that Emma was at a loss to interpret. “And, um, turn on the heat back at the house. See you there!” He was gone before Emma could ask what on earth was going on. She looked at her parents, a little misty-eyed herself.

“I believe our work here is done,” Killian said in her ear.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’ll give you guys a call in the morning, okay,” she said, not that they probably heard her. “And, uh, yeah. Later.” Emma tucked the wand into the back pocket of her jeans. They left quietly and descended the stairs to the street, where they paused to lean against one another.

“That ended well,” Killian said.

“Yeah. I’m just glad it worked.” She blew out a sigh, felt exhaustion descend on her with the snow. “It has been one hell of a week. And a month.”

“It has been a memorable adventure.”

“Not that it was all bad. Do you want to go home?” Now that they were back, she abruptly recalled the day they had left on their unplanned journey. The fresh snowfall, the stillness of the night, made it feel as if no time had passed while they were gone. The street was all but empty, the oncoming night and weather driving Storybrookers indoors. Emma looked up into his eyes. Sometimes it still made her breath catch, the way he looked at her. She raised up a bit to kiss him; contentment flooded through her. They leaned against each other, foreheads touching.

“I’ll always love coming home with you,” she murmured.

“Always. However many adventures await at the end of the world.”

Emma nuzzled his jaw. “Well, maybe we can take a few days off first. Home?”

“Aye. There is one thing I would like to do now, however.”

“Isn’t that how we ended up on the Nautilus?”

He laughed. “I suppose it was. This won’t take long, I hope.”

“All right, I’m curious.” She stepped back.

Killian reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded scrap of velvet. There in the snow on the sidewalk, he went down on one knee.

“Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

[quis-on-flightrising]

I have just finished what I think must be the longest lore thing I’ve ever done. It’s almost 3k word count.

It’s full of feelings. I made myself sad.

If anyone was wondering what has become of Kimer’s fortune-telling service...

(Edit: I just realized that to someone who doesn’t know them, this thing starts out sounding like it’s about cheating. *facepalm* I DIDN’T INTEND THAT.)

Arlandria flitted from tree to tree with careful, silent movements, keeping the blue flash of sunlight on Kimer's bright wings just barely in view up ahead. She hated that it had come to this. 

There was a pathetic feeling to secretly following your husband, sneaking and hiding behind massive tree trunks and using the sounds of wind and the calls of wild animals to cover the sounds of your own movement. There was no better option at this point. If he was doing what they accused him of, better that she should be the one to catch him in it. She wished it was harder for her to believe that the claims were true. Part of her, numb, distant corner of her thoughts, realized that she wasn't trying to figure out some other, more innocent thing he could be sneaking away to do, wasn't wondering if he really was just off for a walk in the safer parts of the Labyrinth like he claimed. Instead she was thinking about how to say goodbye. For just a moment she felt a pang of sadness before the numbness spread to that thought, too. Eventually he stopped near the moss covered stump of a fallen tree. He shrugged off his traveling clothes, the bland outfit they had found for him when they went into hiding with the Wild Orchard clan, and packed it way in a hollow part of the stump; instead he changed into what was obviously a performance outfit. Wispy cloak, hood pulled up over his head, a string of shining beads to trail along the length of his tail. The gossamer thin, moth-eaten-for-effect material that stood up around his neck in a dramatic collar looked like it had been repurposed from her own old performing cloak. Son of a, she thought. A sting of anger jabbed at her, sharp as a wasp bite. He made a new performing character without me. Safely transformed into whatever phony identity he was going by now, Kimer moved on- runestone bag hanging heavy at his waist- and Arlandria followed. It was enough proof for her, but it wouldn't be enough to make him feel really cornered into facing reality unless she walked up on him in the middle of the performance or after he was finished. They stopped again at a wide, open place near a beautifully still pool of water. (Of course; he always did like to play up the whole 'Water is the element of prophecy' bit.) He walked over to the water and stared down into it with a heavy sigh. As the minute stretched on, Kimer not moving from looking down at his reflection, Arlandria's heart twisted and seemed to skip into her throat for a beat- was this it? Was he finally pausing to look himself over, think about his choices, realize what a mess he was making of their lives? A low surge of Water magic hummed at the edges of her Fae senses for a moment, trickling into the pool and staying there, present but sleeping like a cat curled up in the sun. A breeze through the clearing carried the marshy scent of brine up to her hiding place in the trees. Arlandria's fins all fell back flat against her neck as she rolled her eyes up to the sky. Really? He'd used his magic to turn the little pond into seawater, just for the atmosphere effect of reminding the client of the ocean? So sorry and too bad for any of the fish or frogs or other things living in that pond. She wanted to smack him for doing something so unnecessary and selfish… and she wished that there wasn't one stray thought in the back of her mind that quietly admired how clever he was to think of it, even if it was wrong. That admiration of his creative thinking was what that had led her to this life, back when it had been the only thought in her head. It was no more than a whisper now. Even though the whole point of this stealth trip had been to catch Kimer in the act, Arlandria was almost bored as she watched what she already knew would happen. The client who had agreed to meet him here, an icy blue Tundra with their fur shaved back short to help them survive the heat of the Labyrinth, showed up and sat down at the side of the salt pond, a respectful distance away from Kimer. They asked a question, and Kimer launched smoothly off into his routine, graceful as a swan sliding into a lake. He'd even had a new drawstring bag made for the runes so it would be big enough for his hands to fit into, since she wasn't there to use her magic to gracefully pull the tiles out for him. Arlandria considered sending a poke of her Arcane energy over there to push the first stone out of his fingers and, bloop, into the pond, easy as poking it with a finger; but she sighed and let it play out, keeping her 'hands' to herself. After a long while, her muscles starting to grow stiff from stillness, the Tundra seemed satisfied with the 'mystical' advice they had received. They paid Kimer, the two of them bowed respectfully to each other, and the Tundra turned and left the way they had come. Kimer stayed still for a long while to make sure they weren't going to return. That had always been a fear of his, that he would let his character drop and a customer would come back to clarify something, catching him as himself and ruining the illusion. After several minutes of sitting and seeming to peer mysteriously into the pond he must have decided he felt safe again, because he let the magic fade from the water and turned towards home. She knew how this would go as clearly as if she had already watched it happen. He would go change his clothing back into the incognito garments the Orchard had given him to wear, given him as a gift to hide his markings and color from anyone who might recognize him from what was supposed to have been his old life. Hang around for a while, maybe go take a walk in some nice safe part of the Labyrinth and let himself be seen by a passerby there to reinforce the story he'd told before going out as at least partly true, then eventually wander home to her. Change of plans, my dearest. Even the voice of her own inner thoughts had gone flat. She dropped from her tree and glided down, keeping pace alongside him for a moment before landing. He startled at first, probably mistaking her for an annoyed bird swooping at him, but the light catching on her wings was unmistakeable. He staggered to a stop, his mouth opening as if he was about to say something but then flicking into a crookedly apologetic grin instead. "Hello my love." She stared up at him with tired eyes. "Why are you doing this. Let's skip past any pretense that I didn't just completely catch you in the act of lying to me, lying to all those decent people who've agreed to take us in, and get straight to why." He sighed and shrugged out of the tall collar of his costume, shooting a dirty look at the trees all around. "I'm suffocating out here, Ari. Everything is so dense- closed in and weighing down and stifling. Everyone is broken up from each other by all these trees and roots and hedges. I need the road! The flow of people, like the current of a river! Here it's just walls, green walls everywhere." "Green walls that we have to hide because you lied to everyone for so long that we're not safe out in the open any more." "Me! I lied to people! Excuse me, you were there too, every step of the way, every flourish to draw in the clients, you helped. You can't throw it on me like a muddy overcoat now, as if I'm dirty and your hands are clean." "I thought you would outgrow it!" She was shouting now too, although it was more in a Fae's way of body language than tone, her wings flared in agitation. "I thought eventually, when you saw how dangerous it was getting, when you saw how you were risking hurting people with your advice, you would find some other way to get your crowds!" "Oh, 'hurt people with my advice,' really. You want to punish me because people are gullible? They can choose to do or not do whatever they please. If they're going to take the word of some peddler they just met at the market instead of their own common sense, that's hardly my-" "You did everything you could to be more than 'some peddler they just met' to every one of those customers. The stones, the things you always said about Water being 'the element of prophecy'-" "Shouted out into the public market, a hawker's sales pitch, from a cloud of cheap incense and decked out with costume jewelry!" "You did everything you could to make it look and sound real to them! If you just wanted to be some kind of fun carnival game that people laughed off as soon as they went home, you could have been. That is not what you do." A sneer of disgust twisted his face, and for a heartbeat Arlandria almost recoiled from the ugly flare of anger sparkling behind it. "You want me to be some two-copper-bit clown, playing with shiny pebbles in the dirt to entertain children and lovesick teenagers who want to know who they're going to fall in love with and how many children they'll have." "I want you to get your crowds and your respect in a way that doesn't lead to people ruining their lives and then coming after you for it. I want to sleep peacefully at night instead of worrying that someone is going to be searching for you with a knife in their hand because they did what you told them to do and it turned out a disaster. Don't you want that too?" "We had that already. I'm sorry you were losing sleep over worrying for our sakes, I really am. I'm sorry. But we were doing fine. We kept on the move. We watched our trails. We changed our appearance often enough. I know we both felt anxious from time to time, but lots of people get a little twitchy in the dark of night when the campfire shadows are long. It was just nerves. We were fine." "There were rumors of people looking for a Pearlcatcher and a Fae travelling together with cart like ours. Some of them even described our eye colors specifically." "And when we heard those rumors, we moved on from those places right away and nothing ever came of them!" He gestured with one hand in the direction that would lead them back to the Wild Orchard's territory. "Can you really say we're safer now? Living there? On top of a magic laced bomb waiting to blow, surrounded by hungry spirits and possessed machines and wild beasts trying to break through the borders every other day?" "We only had to come here because it was the only place that would take us in! And even that was on the condition of you swearing off the old business. Add one more set of people to the list you've lied to now- a bunch of dragons who were charitable enough to give a second chance to a pair of liars on the run. Which, by the way, is another door slamming shut in our faces, since I'm sure they'll be furious about us leading our troubles right to their door like you've been doing." For the first time in all their years together Arlandria saw him actually freeze with true, undisguised shock. Eyes wide, tongue stilled, no witty answer easily rolling out. "You're going to go report me to them?" She shook her head wearily. "No. Eleven help me, even after all this, if it was up to me I would let you get away with it. But it's not. I didn't catch you- one of their scouts did, yesterday. The clan's leadership thought it would be better to tell me and let me talk to you first before they decide what to do." Kimer shifted uneasily from foot to foot, pearl clutched tightly against his chest. "I guess it's just as well that I hate it there, then, since they probably wouldn't take kindly to me coming back to say goodbye." "They would give you one more chance." The words prickled like dust sticking to the sides of Arlandria's throat. This wasn't how she had wanted it to go, but how else could it have gone? She knew what his answer was going to be, but she still had to say it, still had to make the offer. "They told me they could work out some kind of enchantment to set off an alarm when you're being deceitful, so you really wouldn't be able to do this any more. If you're willing to do that, at least for a while, they would trust us one more time and let us stay." "Never. Ari, I'm not going to put on some kind of magic collar so a bunch of angry strangers can control what I say. That's disgusting." His voice was getting softer and softer. She nodded sadly, not looking at him. He knew too. "You're not even going to lie to me and tell me that if we leave together it'll be different this time. Give me some nice story about how we'll find something else to do with our lives, or a different clan to hide behind." "I've never lied to you. I'm not going to start now." No, she thought distantly. Laughed off the things I'm afraid of, shrugged off the things I worry about, put my hopes for us at the back of the line every time- but never lied to me. I'll give you that at least. Her head felt almost too heavy to lift as she looked back up at him. His eyes were apologetic, but clear. No hesitation. No regret. Had her presence at his side really meant so little, that he could go through with this without even a tear? "I'm sorry Ari. I don't know what else to say. I love you. If you ever want to come back out on the road with me I would be so happy. But I can't. I can't live the way you want me to." "I know." She fluttered up next to him one last time, gave him a peck on his nose. "Keep the enchanted bracelet they lent you. Maybe it will help warn you about other kinds of danger besides the ones they made it for." "What? You're encouraging me to steal now, after all this talk about moral behavior?" He gave her a crooked smile, inviting her to laugh, but she only sniffed and flicked her frills at him. "Oh stop it. Just… try to keep yourself safe. Please." "I will. You do the same. Love you, Ari." "Love you too." There were a dozen other things she wanted to shout at him- that he was an idiot for being so stubborn, for being so selfish, for letting her believe for all those years that things might be different some day. That he could be so much more than this and he was wasting it all. But she had said enough, and anything else would just make the goodbye more bitter. He dipped his head slowly in a low bow to her, turned in the direction that would lead him most quickly out onto a major road, and walked away. Arlandria waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps through the underbrush any longer, leaving only the wild sounds of birds and distant running water to fill the warm air. He was gone. Really gone. For the first time in years, she was alone. She had been ready for this, had known this would probably be the end when she'd set out to follow him hours ago, but she still felt almost dizzy. As though she had just lost a limb and still wanted to lean her weight on where it should have been. Where will the music in my life come from now? The adventure, the laughter, the sense of pride? She would have to find it again, somewhere. Surely it was out there. Her only happiness in the world couldn't be tied up in the drawstring bag of a liar and a cheat, rattling along mixed in with his counterfeit rune stones, could it? She let herself sit there and be still for a while, until she felt her thoughts were settled enough to watch where she was going. Then she turned and began the long flight back to the Orchard.