#but luckily I remembered in time to make this annual gifset | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

accio-ambition · 7 years ago

Text

I lied.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations Chapter warning: Thematic elements, violence?, and death

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset/Manip

Chapter Nineteen

With the fate of Sea of Chaos so uncertain, Emma begins her job search with renewed vigor shortly after the Nolans’ barbeque. She really does want to stay in Storybrooke. It’s the longest they’ve stayed in one place since Henry was born, and the mere thought of leaving this lazy, winter wonderland of a town brings tears to her eyes. This place is home.

Luckily, there’s a small local TV station looking for someone to run their camera during the evenings and nights. It’s not ideal, but it brings in money and she can negotiate holidays off with Henry. She puts that as one of her requirements in her cover letter to the broadcasting group: she’s a single mother, her son relies on her in every way, and they’ll have to be understanding that sometimes he’ll get sick when they aren’t expecting it or he’ll need her to drop him off somewhere and cause her to run late.

She’s picking Henry up from school one afternoon when she gets the call - part-time video producer, working mostly evenings, but some nights. She gets some benefits and the rest of the staff understand the basics of her circumstances. They, too, have family emergencies pop up from time to time and the woman on the other side of the line, one Zelena Mills, says that she is a single mother herself.

“We understand completely, Ms. Swan,” she says, “and we’ll do our best to accommodate if you do the same for us.”

Gladly, she accepts it. It’s freeing to have a safety net. She loves the Jones crew - will always love each and everyone of them - but the network didn’t pay for annual doctor’s visits or hospital visits for broken arms. It’s been a long time since Emma hasn’t had to worry about things like that. And even if Jefferson does get back to them with favorable news - looking more and more unlikely the colder the temperature gets - she can always tell Zelena sorry, but no. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

The one thing she doesn’t plan on is Killian. Of course. Because when ever has he played right into her hand?

“I got a job,” Emma says when she’s on the phone with Killian one night. Henry’s spending the evening planning his perfect Halloween costume - he’s looking to go as Poe Dameron, but only if he can find a costume size to fit him. That’s left her to folding the laundry in the other room, her phone on speaker.

“So do I,” he chuckles, the slam of a cabinet covering his amusement. “You remember we work together, right?”

“I know,” she sighs, “but it’s getting to crunch time and I need to have some source of income.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, the only indication that he hasn’t hung up the beeping of a microwave in the background. Finally, he asks a bit too harshly to her liking, “You were applying to jobs?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “And I got one. At the TV station outside of town.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice deeper than normal. Usually, that means he’s next to her, behind her with his arms twined around her waist, his nose buried in her skin and mischief in his future. But now, on the phone, it’s kind of frightening.

“It didn’t seem important.” She puts down the shirt she’s folding and takes him off speaker. With the phone up to her ear, she asks, “Why does it sound like you’re getting frustrated? Or upset? I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I thought you would’ve told me,” he says curtly, his voice containing none of the warmth and kindness Emma is accustomed to. “You can’t say we aren’t close, Swan. And I thought that you’d have a little more faith in us.” He pauses before adding, “In me.”

It catches her off guard. Finding another job wasn’t something she advertized - she had only told David, Mary Margaret, and Henry, but only because David was in the same boat and he couldn’t keep a secret from his wife if his life depended on it. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about telling Killian: it just hadn’t come up and she didn’t want to doubt his hope in what the network might say. “It’s just Jeff hasn’t gotten back to us and in my experience, that doesn’t bode well,” she explains gently. “And I wanted to be prepared. Just because I’m not going to be on the ship with you doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in you.” She swallows something back, a lump edging up her throat that threatens to overcome her. “I trust you, Killian. I thought you knew that.”

“Then why don’t your actions speak to that?” he counters sharply. And it’s not necessarily the worst barb she’s been stuck with in her life, but his tone certainly doesn’t soften the blow. “Aren’t you a woman of action, not words?”

And that hurts, her own words thrown back in her face. Because, loathe though she is to admit it, he’s almost got a point.

Almost.

Killian scoffs. “Best of luck in your new endeavors, Swan. Tell Henry I say hello.”

“Why are you angry with me?” Emma asks, beginning to get hysterical if she trusts the quiver in her voice. “I told you before, I need to go where the money is. Thankfully, the money is just ten minutes outside of town.” There are tears threatening to roll down her cheeks and she isn’t quite exactly sure why. Why she’s getting emotional like this, why Killian’s turning on her. All she can think is how fortunate it is that Henry’s in the other room. “We’re still going to be down the street. We’re staying here, this is our home, Killian.”

He doesn’t respond. Emma pulls back her phone and sees that the line is still open. He’s just sitting there, letting her stew in his silence. And that is the final straw. “Fine, be an ass. Don’t talk to me. Whatever. Have a good life.”

She hangs up, sensing like she should feel victorious in standing up to his asshole tendencies. Instead, she feels raw. And if she lingers in the laundry room far after she’s finished folding clothes, then there’s surely some other reason besides licking the wounds that Killian’s inflicted on her.

0000

Emma doesn’t talk to Killian for a while. Months, actually - her birthday passes with much more fanfare than the year before, but without a word from him. Liam answers Henry’s knock on Halloween, sending her a small, sad smile while her son digs through a bowl of candy. Thanksgiving passes with burnt fingers and happy bellies, but Emma comes home to a sadness no amount of pie or tryptophan can even come close to curing. She only hears of his wellbeing through infrequent texts from Liam.

And it hurts, not just her. Henry begins to wonder why they all stop hanging out and Emma can’t even begin to explain what happened because she doesn’t know. He just got angry without rhyme or reason. Any way she looks at it, there really isn’t any logical reasoning behind his outburst.

So she calls in the big guns.

“Sometimes, he just snaps,” Liam confides in her, the sounds of the harbor cluttering the phone line. “It happens on occasion. I believe…” he pauses, as if determining whether or not to share a particular anecdote with her. “Personally, I feel like it might be something to do with our father. He broke promise after promise and my little brother forgave each one of them until the day he never came back.”

It’s the one piece of the Jones brother puzzle she hadn’t been able to find herself. She’d had the inkling that Liam played a huge part of Killian’s life, the way their relationship went deeper than she assumed a normal fraternal relationship would go, and when the elder Jones tells her that, it all makes sense. Liam was Killian’s Henry - the only blood he’s got in the world, the one who’s been there since the beginning through thick and thin.

And then the realization that Killian thinks she’s leaving him hits. But she’s not, she argues, just changing direction a little bit. They’ll still live down the street, they’ll still be around, hell, they could still hang out every day. She knows what it’s like to be left and she isn’t going to do that to him.

“No matter what he says, Emma, Killian adores you,” Liam reassures her. “You and Henry. You’re as much as part of his life now as I am or the sea is.”

“I guess,” Emma sighs, crossing her arm over her stomach. She’s looking out her bedroom window, the tops of some of the boats and ships visible from across the way. It’s the beginning of December, the end of trawling season near. This has to to be one of the last time the Roger and her ragtag crew will go out this year. She can just imagine Liam standing on the pier, everyone on the Roger getting ready to cast off for another day out on the water. “I still think he’s overreacting.”

Liam scoffs. “Have you met my brother? Biggest drama queen I’ve ever met.”

That makes her laugh, lightens the mood even if only for a second. “If you could, I don’t know, put in a good word for me?” she asks.

“I see how it is,” Liam groans. “Making the big brother the middle man. Sending me in to try and sweeten him up.”

(It’s not a lie, but Liam seems to understand what was going on from both sides of the argument. Besides, Killian would give anything or anybody a second chance if Liam asked.)

“I’ll talk to him, Emma. We’re taking some of the old crew and heading out in a moment.” She sighs, thankful that at least one of the Joneses has a head on their shoulders. “But whatever decision he makes, however inane, is his own.”

“Yeah, I know.” She hears a commotion downstairs and assumes Henry has finally come home from school. “Thanks, Liam. I’m glad you guys come as a pair. He’d be a giant pain if you didn’t calm him down.”

“He is a giant pain even when I do calm him down.” She laughs before the sounds of bellows and yells echo through the phone line. “Duty calls. Be good, Emma.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says. “Be safe. All of you.”

“Your concern is touching.” More shouts sound come from the background and it sounds as if Liam, muffling his phone, responds to them. Then he comes back on. “I’ll watch over him. He’ll get some sense knocked into that thick skull of his if it’s the last thing I do.”

0000

After tucking Henry into bed at David and Mary Margaret’s house, Emma resigns herself to another boring night shift where she expects nothing interesting to happen. In a town as small as Storybrooke, it’s not unusual to get through all of her assigned tasks – mostly leftover work from her shifts earlier in the week – and spend time reading about news around the rest of the world. Tonight, the top story is the weather: it’s raining, might turn into snow in the early morning hours. Storybrooke - such a riveting place to live.

She’s cutting together a segment about a high school unity concert – little snippets of kids greeting and taking ticket money at the front door, or their verbose and hilarious faces as they sing – to the voiceover of their teacher or principal or some administrator talking about how proud they are of their students. Honestly, it’s so small town, she lets her eyes go out of focus, only seeing flashes of color on the screen, as the woman’s soft voice from her earphones lulls her to drowsiness.

Her peace is broken when the police scanner whoops to life. Ripping her earbuds, Emma focuses her attention. It’s the Coast Guard siren, the one only used when a man’s gone overboard.

Or worse.

The two other people on call tonight stand as well, already hustling about and grabbing their gear to head out to the scene. There’s information to find out – the who, what, when, etc. – and Coast Guards to interview for the morning’s news. But Emma stays seated: someone’s got to stay behind on the off chance that something else newsworthy happens at the same time. She’ll be the one to actually listen to the radio and recount it to her coworkers when they eventually call or text her asking where to go or what to ask.

“Be advised,” the discombobulated voice says. “We have reports of a crash on shore four miles due north of Georges Bank. Five bodies on board, five missing. Be advised.”

“Damn,” she mutters to herself, turning back to the rolls on her screen. “Hope they find the bastards.”

“Be advised.” And, for some reason, this time around makes her stomach sink. She’s lived here in Maine for over two years now. She’s heard that siren handfuls of times and never felt the sense of dread she’s experiencing now.

“Vessel confirmed as Jolly Roger. All crew missing. Be advised.”

Feeling her eyes go wide and her jaw drop, Emma understands the emotion now. The Jolly Roger – practically her second home. And the crew, all five of them, missing.

“No,” she mumbles to herself. “No, not him.”

She runs to the camera operator heading out to film the live spot. Grabbing his shoulder, Emma yanks him back. “You’ve got to let me film this one.”

“What?” her coworker asks, stunned. “No, Emma, you stay here, that’s how it alwa- ”

“I don’t care if that’s how it always is!” she shouts, gaining the attention of the few others in the office. Her breathing is intense and heavy, a pain stabbing deep throughout her body. “I need to be out there. Please.”

Taken aback from the swiftness of her outburst, her wide-eyed coworker rolls his eyes and relents. “Fine,” he says, shrugging out of his rain slicker. “Any reason not to go out in this weather.”

“Thank you.” She takes equipment from him and follows reporter out to the truck. In her haste, she gets drenched from the storm while loading the van. It’s as she’s running back out, now donning her jacket and hood, that she whips out her phone. She’s in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and revving the engine, and dialing Mary Margaret’s cell.

Her friend barely answers the phone, obviously having been fast asleep, before Emma’s breathlessly explaining the situation.

“The Jolly Roger went down. They don’t know where any of them are. I’m heading out there to film a spot right now.” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and a sharp right down toward the Coast Guard’s station. “Mary Margaret, they’re out there,” she says quietly. The anchor filming the spot is too involved in calling sources and figuring out how much information he knows to pay attention to Emma’s conversation and verge of a breakdown. Still, she can’t be too sure.

On the other end of the line, Mary Margaret calmly asks Emma how she can help. “Just, watch Henry for me. I’ll send you updates when I can. Try not to worry him too much. And call Jeff. He’ll want to know.” She sighs heavily, taking another turn far too fast. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

Emma pulls into the gravel lot of the station shortly after hanging up with Mary Margaret, the anchor running up the slickened steps as Emma grabs the equipment.

By the time she gets inside, Whale, Scarlet, and Mulan have been found, pulled up into the rescue copter, and brought to the Coast Guard headquarters. They’re huddled up together in the corner, wrapped in blankets and soaking wet. Quickly, Emma sets up the tripod, the camera atop it while the reporter asks all the important questions of the lead officers, and then runs over to them. She hugs them all at once, careless as to her own state of dryness or lack thereof.

“Are you guys okay?” she asks, holding herself back from kissing all three of them out of pure joy to see them alive. “What happened?”

“Don’t bloody well know, a’ite?” Scarlet grumps. “One moment, we enjoying ourselves, catching great, the next I’m swimming in the world’s coldest bath.”

At a loss for words, Emma just stares them over, maternal instincts kicking in. She’s observing them, looking for any bodily damage.

“Honestly, we’re gonna be fine.” Whale’s words stop her glances. “Minor bumps and bruises and cold, unless we’re stuck in these clothes much longer. Then we’re at risk for hypothermia and that’s never a nice way to go.”

Emma looks to Mulan, who she knows won’t sugar coat the actuality of the situation.

“I think Liam and Killian were fighting in the captain’s post,” she says. “The ship turned too sharply over a swell and...” Still wrapped in her towel, Mulan motions going overboard. She shivers and cuddles back with her blanket. “Any word on them?”

Emma shakes her head. “Not that I’ve heard.” The reporter calls her over, snapping at her. She rolls her eyes. “I suppose we’ll find out in a minute.”

“They gonna be okay, Emma,” Scarlet says, his entire countenance softening despite the tenseness of the situation. “Them Joneses are survivors.”

Nodding, she hurries over to her set up, flicks the camera to rolling, and points toward the anchor, telling him to get on with it. She kind of zones out until a name - his name - crosses his lips.

“Captain Killian Jones and his brother, Captain Liam Jones, still remain unfound. Coast Guard air rescue is looking, but with each passing moment, their chances of survival shrink.”

She covers her mouth, doing her best to stay professional. Emma has to choke back a sob because her coworker is right. The longer it takes for the Coast Guard to find them – if they find them – the worse of her Jones boys will be. It’s cold and wet on land: she can only imagine how bad it is in the water.

After they’ve finished the spot, the reporter makes one more round in the station, gathering all the pertinent information and contact numbers, before coming up to Emma as she makes sure for a fourth time that what’s left of the crew of the Jolly Roger is okay. “You ready to head back and edit this bitch?”

A slight glance toward the door and the bustle of station, everyone trying to save those men, has Emma crossing her arms and looking at her coworker. She jerks her head toward her friends, still huddling on the bench, warming up but waiting for news. “No, I’m going to stay here.”

“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug. “If a new lead comes in, call me and I’ll come back down.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says, her attention turning back to the crew members of Jolly Roger in their vigil.

The night goes fast and slow. For the most part, the four of them are quiet, getting lost in their own thoughts. It’s close to one in the morning when Emma hears the garble of the radio again. It interrupts a memory she’d been reliving - a movie night with Henry, Liam, and Killian, in the middle of last winter - and wakes her up for a little bit as she strains to hear the message. She catches only a few words – two, medevac, unknown – but it’s enough to spark the flame of hope in her heart.

“They found them,” she whispers, elbowing Mulan next to her. “They found them.”

“How do you know?” she asks groggily.

“They said it on the radio. They were both medevaced to Storybrooke General.” Emma stands abruptly. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where you going, Emma?” Whale asks.

“The hospital.” She runs a hand through her hair, getting it caught in a knot at the tips. “I need to know they’re okay. Do any of you have your phones?” They shake their heads and Emma nods. “Okay, I’ll call Ruby and tell her to get down here and I’ll keep her updated.” She nods again, more to clear her head than anything, and she gives each one of them a hug. “Get warm,” Emma says by way of goodbye.

Texting Ruby as she walks out the door, Emma gets confirmation that her friend will be there soon. She’ll get to take care of Whale, which both parties will enjoy, and Mulan and Scarlet can derive some sort of joy from ragging on them. Once she rushes out of the Coast Guard post, she realizes she’s stranded. Her coworker took the channel van back to the office. Luckily the hospital isn’t that far away, so she runs. It’s still raining and it’s as she runs around a corner through an alley that she gets a flashback to being drunk and running down her street. Running through puddles to get to Killian, that night where she force her way into his house and he forced himself into a Killian-shaped hole in her heart for good.

The idea of never being able to do that again spurns her legs to go faster.

Along the way, she calls Mary Margaret again, updating her as promised.

“Please tell me it’s good news,” her friend greets her.

“They found them,” she gasps out, the hospital coming into sight. She doesn’t slow down though, still jogs until she reaches the end of the entrance canopy. “Coast Guard found Killian and Liam. I’m at the hospital right now to see them. I’ll text you when I get some more info.”

Mary Margaret doesn’t even say goodbye, just says, “Okay” and hangs up.

Emma gets to the hospital’s front desk, huffing and puffing and says to the nurse behind it, “Coast Guard just brought in two men.” Emma bends over the desk, her palms flat on the surface as she struggles to catch her breath. “Medevac,” she manages to get out. She takes another couple of deep breaths before she can form another actual sentence. “I need to know their condition.”

But the nurse behind the desk shakes her head and returns her gaze to the computer screen. “I can’t tell you that, ma’am.”

“What? Why not?”

The woman sighs and rolls her eyes. “Ma’am, I can’t release that information to someone who isn’t family.”

“I am,” Emma insists, jabbing her finger into her chest and then toward the elevators. “They are. They’re my family.”

“I know you might really want to know, ma’am, but I must insist. I’m not allowed-”

“I don’t care!” she shouts. As it was in the newsroom earlier that evening, all eyes turn to her. Emma feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment and frustration. Again, she points toward the elevator. “Those two men are the closest thing to family I’ve got besides my son and I will not lose them!”

The nurse is startled and starts to stutter through a response. “Ma’am, I-”

Emma groans and leans forward on the desk. “Is there someone else I can speak with? I’ll tell you whatever you want. Go ahead, try me.” She tries to calm herself, settle herself down by stating facts. “My name’s Emma Swan, I’m looking for Liam and Killian Jones.”

“Jones?” Another woman comes out from behind a partition, probably separating the front room from the break room. She looks vaguely familiar and Emma realizes why when she speaks again. “I treated Liam when he was in here a couple months ago.” Her eyes narrow as if she’s trying to see past the rat’s nest of hair and drenched clothing hanging off Emma and then she nods. “His brother put you down as a secondary contact.”

Emma sighs in relief. “Thank you,” she says, her voice breaking.

(Later, when the dust has settled, she’ll think back to what the nurse’s words actually meant. That, had anything gone wrong that first time, Killian wanted her to be in charge in case they couldn’t get through to him.)

Stepping closer to the desk, the edge digging into her hips, Emma pleads with the nurse. “You know me, I’m sorry I forgot your name, but please, can you tell me anything about either of them?”

This new nurse looks at the first nurse, then ushers Emma over to entrance of the desk. She leans over the partition. “I can tell you they’re both here, but it’s really rough right now,” she whispers in her ear.

“What’s wrong?” Emma catches the hint of hesitation in her eyes and she has to hold back another groan of despair. “Look, I don’t want the bullshit. Just tell me.”

The nurse sighs and starts typing away at another computer nearby. “They’re taking Killian into surgery now. The rope was wrapped around his wrist too tightly for too long.” Then she looks directly at Emma. “They’re going to amputate his left hand.”

Her hand goes to cover her mouth in shock. “Oh my god.”

Squinting at the screen, the nurse explains, “He’s a bit touch and go right now. He hasn’t really been lucid, but he’s breathing on his own for now.”

“That’s good, right?” Emma clarifies. “That he’s breathing on his own?” The nurse nods and a small weight lifts off her shoulders. He’s fine, for now. He’s a survivor. Both of them are. “And Liam?” she asks. “What about Liam?”

When the nurse looks away from the computer screen, it feels like a boulder takes up residence in her stomach. The pause that follows makes it even heavier. “I’m sorry, Ms. Swan, but as for Liam…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but then again, she doesn’t really need to.

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. She can’t imagine a world without Liam in it, his silly stories and teasing. And while it’s going to be really tough for her to fully comprehend, it in no way would compare to the train of thought she’s on when she asks her next question:“Does Killian know?”

The nurse says no. It makes sense, with Killian being in and out and hardly conscious, but it still hurts. Emma silently starts to break down, the remnants of her run - gasping breaths and rivulets of sweat - turning into sobs and streams of tears. Offering her condolences for Liam’s death, the nurse comes from around the desk and leads her to a chair in the waiting room. For a moment, the nurse wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulders and just holds her, a weak attempt to glue her together as she falls apart.

After a few minutes, she gets up and gets back to work. “I’ll let you know when Killian gets out of surgery,” she assures her.

A wobbly “thank you” comes out of Emma’s mouth as the nurse leaves. A moment later, she crumples up on a chair and cries. She brings her knees to her chin, the heels of her sneakers perching on the edge of the chair. The sobs reverberate off the waiting room’s walls and Emma’s reminded how lonely being sad can be.

Thanks to @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, @sotheylived, and @captainswanbigbang. You know what you did to enable this. And you too, @the-corsair-and-her-quill. You know.

#csbb #captain swan big bang #cs ff #captain swan #ouat #my words #ditlot #storytime #i am the worst for a lot of reasons :)

47 notes · View notes