#cs canon divergent

[snowbellewells]

Captain Swan Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo Entry: "Coming Back on the Wind"

Summary: When a sudden storm blows up while Killian, Emma, and their family are out in Storybrooke's wood camping, they find shelter and Killian tells an almost-forgotten tale to pass the time...

Author's Notes: Thanks to @hollyethecurious for the lovely bingo board to play with! This is the first entry I have managed to create (hopefully there will be more to come before Autumn gets away from me entirely!) for the prompt "stormy seas"

Takes place in a post-s6 future where Killian and Emma have Hope and twin boys as well, Henry stayed with Violet and didn't go on adventures in other realms, and Emma's little brother is named Leo instead of Neal!

** Also available on AO3 if that's your preference**

"Coming Back on the Wind"

by: @snowbellewells

Outside the hunter’s cabin in the forest bordering Storybrooke, the rain splashed wetly against the windowpane. The torrents of water pouring down from the sky showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. Though he would have preferred they have made it all the way back home from their weekend camping excursion, Killian looked out the window without any true sense of alarm as the branches swayed wildly and the wind moaned, but they remained safe and dry in the log structure which was proving admirably sound - if rather small for their extended crew. The ground might grow soggy and some branches might fall, but it was merely an October storm, not the sort of maelstrom that had once made him cower in the corner of his bunk on Silver’s ship as the waves rolled and he feared the vessel would sink before the dawn.

Turning from his vantage point before the sink in the small kitchen area, Killian’s eyes surveyed the rest of the cabin to find his family and their guests gathered in the open living area around the crackling fireplace, which he had watched Emma light with a mere flex of her fingers. It mattered not that they had been married nearly seven years now, nor how often he had seen his wife avert tragedy and summon marvels into existence; he was still in awe of her, and he often found himself watching her with his breath stolen away, struck speechless by his Swan and all that she was.

His gaze was drawn to her once again as he ascertained that all were well and accounted for. Emma was bustling about to bring Hope her stuffed crocodile (a gift from Belle and young Gideon which entertained everyone else simply for how much Killian grumbled about it), bringing a throw blanket for Henry’s lovely girlfriend to drape over her legs where she was curled up against Henry on the sofa, and then she settled too, pulling their twins onto her lap as she did. Her younger brother Leo, now a bright and cheerful preteen with his father’s blonde hair and chiseled chin but his mother and sister’s brightly shining green eyes, along with Gideon Gold, almost eight now, were also seated within the fireside huddle, having been happy to go on an outdoor adventure with the Jones crew and give their respective parents a night off. When she asked who wanted hot chocolate with cinnamon, there was a lively, unanimous chorus of approval that drowned all sound of the wind and rain outdoors, and had Killian chuckling and shaking his head even from across the room.

“I would think you might have already known the answer to that question, Love,” he playfully chided.

Shooting him a scoff and a mischievous wink, Emma swirled her hand in the air once more and a perfect mug of cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon appeared in the hands of all but him, eliciting squeals of surprise and delight from the younger children. Gideon in particular wriggled with excitement at the prospect of such a sweet treat. Killian knew that Belle favored tea and healthy snacks and seriously doubted that liquid chocolate was on the boy’s usual menu. 

Thankfully, they hadn’t been far from the old, abandoned cabin when the storm had blown up unexpectedly, and they had managed to get themselves and their things inside the shelter before being truly drenched. Still, Killian reckoned it was wise of Emma to make sure their charges were warmed by the fire and set with the hot drinks as well - though he couldn’t resist needling her a bit for it.

Still, his own insides warmed at the cozy feeling of belonging he had in a cabin in the stormy Maine woods. He had never truly known such peace until these last few of his uncounted years of life, only since meeting Emma and their starting their own small family. The contentment spread throughout his being so completely that it seemed to pour from his fingers and toes; Killian could only draw nearer to his loved ones to drink in the moment. Henry glanced up from where he had been adoringly studying Violet’s profile and gave his stepdad a knowing look as he lowered himself to sit by his Savior’s side. And he could only sheepishly acknowledge the lad’s playful glance. Henry knew the man his mother had married could never stay far from her, always drawn like the strongest of magnets - True Love at its finest.

Soon all of the children, and Emma as well, were happily sipping their decadent drinks and savoring the warmth as it traveled down their throats and soothed their stomachs pleasantly. Hope lowered her mug slightly, only to reveal a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her pert little nose.

“You’ve missed a taste, lovey,” Killian murmured, the affection glowing in his eyes as he reached out to swipe the creamy topping form her face and pop it into his own mouth. 

“Papa! That was mine!” Hope squealed, giggling even as she did so, but hopping to her feet, little fists planted on her hips and the intriguing near-turquoise of her eyes - a perfect blend of his blue and Emma’s green - flashing with playful pique.

“Ah, but I’m a pirate, little sparrow,” he replied good naturedly, using one of his favorite pet names for her. “You’d best carefully guard your prizes when a pirate’s about.”

“But I’m your pirate princess, remember?” Hope wheedled, flopping dramatically against her father’s chest where Killian willingly wrapped her in his arms. “You shouldn’t steal from me!”

Emma burst out with a guffaw at that comeback from their precocious five-year-old. Nudging him with an elbow in the side, she added, “Kid’s got you there, Babe.”

Killian winked back at his wife before turning playfully repentant eyes on his daughter. “A thousand apologies, your Highness,” he offered humbly, with an exaggerated bob of the head for a sort of seated bow. “To what punishment do you sentence me?”

Hope’s brow furrowed as if she were deep in thought, tilting her head while she studied first her father, then turned to consider both her friend Gideon and her younger twin brothers with a mischievous smirk that rivalled Killian’s own. All three boys nodded eagerly, seeming to know exactly what their pixie ringleader was thinking without exchanging a single word.

Henry snorted in amusement at the proceedings, loving that his baby sister could wrap both Storybrooke’s Savior and the fearsome pirate Captain Hook around her little finger with such ease.

“You have to tell a pirate story!” Hope declared with impish glee, clapping her hands in delight while the twins bounced on their mother’s knees and cheered excitedly. “And if we don’t think it’s good enough, then you walk the plank!” she crowed.

“Yes, please, a story!” Gideon chorused from his spot between Hope and her youthful uncle, his intelligent eyes alight and enthralled at the mere suggestion, loving a good tale every bit as much as his mother did. Belle never could resist listening to a well-spun yarn, and seeing that her only child took after his dear, goodhearted friend in this way especially - her most leading trait - never failed to touch Killian’s heart. Though Belle and Gold might still share a home, and though they remained married, her trust had been broken one too many times for even her generous faith to be fully restored. They were meant to be True Loves, and the emotion remained, but it was bruised and trampled like the rose of their famous tale, far too long past its wilting to salvage. She would never deprive the old Crocodile of another son, not after how long he had sought Neal, how bitterly he had regretted failing him, and then lost him to death anyway, but they kept a brittle distance in their home. Belle found her happiness in her son, her friends, and her books, and Gideon blossomed mostly under her care - for which Killian knew the lad was all the better.

Hanging his head, Killian feigned reluctance at having to provide entertainment, though in truth, he had known that tales of his pirating days would be the decree as soon as he had seen that particular gleam in his daughter’s eye. As Emma often lamented wryly, ‘Our daughter is entirely too entranced by the idea of pillaging and plundering.’ Reaching out to gently tap her chin with the curve of his hook, he pulled Hope into his lap again, tickling her stomach once he had her in his clutches until she cried for mercy.

Once she was sprawled across his legs heaving for breath, Killian nodded his agreement. “You wish is my command, Princess Hope,” he replied. “A story you shall have.”

A whole chorus of cheers rang out from all their younger charges, and in truth, even Henry and Violet’s faces shone with interest. To his delight, even Emma moved slightly closer and leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, as if she were settling in for the show. He felt a sort of pride that he could grant such pleasure with his storytelling.

Pausing dramatically, he watched as Leo leaned easily back against the couch, cradling his mug in his hands, ready to savor the last of his cocoa and listen contentedly. Gideon scooted right up before Killian until his knobby eight-year-old knees touched the pirate’s own, eyes wide and breath practically held so as not to miss a word. Hope, for her part, settled on his lap as if it were her throne, somehow managing to look both supremely self-satisified and guilelessly eager, gazing up into her papa’s face as her little fingers clutched at the charms of his necklace the way they often did when she truly settled in to rest. Little Liam David and Westley Graham, just barely walking now, were equally cuddled up against Emma, and a pang went through him, taking in the whole scene as he drew a deep breath to begin. It did his heart good to see their children so comfortable, at ease and certain of their safety and in the knowledge that they were loved. That was as it should be. But he had been only a year or two older than Gideon was now when all he had known of his safe and familiar home had been lost to him. He hadn’t found such security again for so long it had nearly vanished, forgotten, in the recesses of his mind. Something long cracked and aching was mended in seeing that his own children would never face such doubt and fear.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Killian gathered his thoughts. The room went still as his listeners ceased talking and moving about, focused on him intently. He could again hear the wind whistling outside the little cabin, the rain slapping in sheets against the window glass and the almost soothing patter of it upon the roof over their heads. If he tried, he could just conjure up the sensation of rocking back and forth, carried on turbulent waves - could take himself back to the time when he was a boy at sea. Then he began to speak.

“Once upon a time, long before I was the famed pirate captain you see before you,” Killian intoned, letting his voice drop a bit lower and employing a lyrical rhythm. “I was a young lad who could barely be called a cabin boy, on the ship of another pirate - the dastardly Long John Silver.”

The little boys reacted with shivers and gasps, just as he had expected. Emma, who had of course heard this story with much less dramatic flair, in the tone of an agonized confession when they hid themselves away after his return from the Underworld. They had bared the last of their secrets and all of their souls once and for all and bound themselves back together again. Killian felt her hand flutter lightly to rest upon his own, and he squeezed it briefly in reassurance, letting her known that he was alright. This was a much less raw and bleeding version of events, peeled back to reveal the little good that there had been, even in those awful times.

“Aye, you’re right to be alarmed, me mateys,” Killian warned, waggling his dark brows at them with playful aplomb. “Silver was indeed a ruthless villain - and he ran his ship with little care for youngsters aboard who might be hungry, injured… or frightened of storms.”

He swept his hand out before him, illustrating the expanse of rolling waves under a dark night sky lit at alarmingly frequent intervals by bright, wicked forks of lightning. His audience was every bit as rapt as he had intended, allowing Killian only a moment for a sidelong glance at Emma with a twinkle in his eye.

“That stormy night, all but the night’s watch were in their bunks, and the lad knew he would find no sympathy from any quarter at any rate. His older brother was on the ship with him, but that young man was the only one who showed the boy any consideration, and he was fast asleep, having already put in what would be a hard day’s work for a full grown man, much less a stripling of fourteen. And so, the boy huddled in the corner of his small bunk, crowding against the wall and trying to block out the booming claps of thunder with hands pressed over his ears, willing his stomach not to turn as they were rolled up, down, and sideways by the vicious swells.”

Hope snuggled deeper into his embrace, seeking comfort for herself, empathetic little siren that she was, and unknowingly grounding him in the present, soothing the long scabbed-over wounds this story pricked. As though somehow sensing the boy from the story was closer than its teller let on, Killian also felt the feather-light brush of young Gideon’s fingers come to rest on his knee, offering silent support in his own timid way. He was hardly privy to what his dear friend Belle told her son about his past history or the harsh beginnings he’d weathered early in life, but he sensed in that moment that Hope’s unlikely playmate knew the frightened youth of long ago was now the man seated before him. And he wanted to bolster him in a difficult moment.

It was enough to have Killian swallowing back a lump in his throat. Meeting the child’s searching gaze, Killian offered a smile and nod of the head in unspoken gratitude, to which Gideon beamed and patted his knee with more confidence.

“Though the boy tried to remain still,” Killian continued solemnly, “the storm did not let up. Instead it raged harder until he was sure he would be thrown from his berth to the floor and that the ship itself would be turned on its side and sink into the deep. His thin shoulders shook as he wept, and though he fought to hold back his tears, occasionally a hiccup or gasp for air escaped.”

“It was at that moment,” and here the pirate’s voice, though still rough with deeply felt emotion, grew more musical and light, “when all hope seemed lost, that he felt a soft, familiar touch on his shoulder sliding down to gently rub his back until his strangled sobs eased. It was his older brother, roused from slumber, either by the boy’s distress or the ferocity of the storm, and quick to come to his younger sibling’s aid. The elder scooted into the bunk and gingerly wrapped an arm around the trembling smaller form, shushing and soothing as best he could.”

“Even as the wind continued to wail and howl all around, and as the waves slapped against the hold where they huddled together, the boy already felt much stronger - less afraid - just knowing that he was not alone. And then the elder brother began to hum. It was a familiar tune, a soothing lullaby coaxed from the far reaches of the younger’s memory along with an echo of his mother’s warm voice singing that same melody. Soon his brother was offering lilting words as well, in barely more than a whisper. Both knew the ire which would rain down on their heads if they roused any others, and yet his sibling dared those consequences to end his little brother’s torment. As the near-forgotten song continued, the effects of the wild storm seemed to die away. By the time the end of the song neared, that frightened cabin boy had finally found sleep.”

“What was the song?” Hope piped up curiously. “Can you sing it for us?”

Killian shook his head with a humored huff, having expected no less. Not letting himself hesitate long enough to change his mind, he wet his lips, drew in a steadying breath, and launched into the old tune he remembered hearing in Liam’s murmured, youthful tones. His brother had always told him it was their mother’s favorite - one she had used often to soothe fevers or lull her boys back to peaceful dreams after nightmares. Killian had barely remembered her - or anything about the cozy, cliffside cottage that had been their home - even then, but Liam had held it dear in his own heart and had brought the same feeling to life for Killian.

As Killian continued to sing, voice gathering strength while rising and falling with the notes, the rain outside their small shelter in the woods seemed to wrap around and join the chorus. His audience in the cabin listened closely, drawn into the song that had once been his mother’s, which had comforted him for years as something of his older brother’s, passing on once again to the new family they had made.

And as the fireplace crackled invitingly, his wife’s golden head rested on his shoulder, and he sang the last lines, the sudden storm they’d hunkered down to escape seemed to have enclosed them in a haven instead. The wind blowing the branches against the windows still showed its power, but with those he loved around him, the storm which had accompanied his long held memories finally ceased.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @justanother-unluckysoul @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda

@xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @goforlaunchcee @stahlop @caught-in-the-filter

@donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @undercaffinatednightmare @drowned-dreamer

@gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @scientificapricot @motherkatereloyshipper @myfearless-love

@belovedcreation @exhaustedpirate @grimmswan @zaharadessert

[ohmightydevviepuu]

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

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

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

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

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

promise | chance | gold | melody / heart | castle | popular |  heat / echo / kiss | swim | leak | knot | wild | comfort | shadows | ice | bridge | bubble | jealous | pain | horror |  dream  | bow |  lips | scream | silk | sugar | loud | bond | rainbow (part one) | rainbow (part two)

find the complete story on AO3.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.)  It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things.  The 4th of July is coming up.  Let’s do it up right.  Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma.  “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying.  “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in.  Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions.  Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything.  Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting.  Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher. 

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated.  “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”.  There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest.  Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions.  It only led to confusion and headaches.  Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings.  Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks.  After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July.  Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately.  With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?”  Killian asked as he sat beside her.  “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement.  It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display.  “Are you serious?”  Henry asked.  “You’ve never seen fireworks?  Fireworks have been around for like…ever.  I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest.  I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged.  “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them.  And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured.  “They’re colorful and sparkly.  Sometimes they have special designs.  Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound.  And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked.  “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug.  “I don’t know how it works.  I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said.  “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did.  Emma should have known.  It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd.  A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I’m sure everything is totally safe.  Leroy’s got everything organized.  Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky.  Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him.  Now was one of those times.  She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern.  As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said.  “It’s perfect.  All of this is perfect.  I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display.  Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music.  It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner.  “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding?  The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before.  What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States.  That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile?  Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven.  “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said.  “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce).  Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812.  Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned.  “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library.  I already have to suffer through history lessons in school.  Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again).  The moment was just about here.  As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show.  She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was.  They hadn’t talked much about it.  This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened.  What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath.  “Something’s actually pretty great.  At least I hope you think it is.  I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly.  “A father?  I’m to be a father?  You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along.  Are you…are you happy about it?  I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly.  When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes.  “How can you even ask that, Swan?  Of bloody course I’m happy.  A baby!  A product of our love!  I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

[princess-and-the-swan]

Hi, I'm looking for a Storybrooke AU fic. I remember that Zeleana cursed everyone to not have their happy endings. Somehow Killian and Henry escaped the curse and Killian can communicate with Emma through their dreams. Emma is married to Walsh who has her heart. Snow and Charming are married but hate each other. Regina is maid.

I remember reading this one a while back! I think this might be what you're looking for:

MC Fic Rec: Their Way By Moonlight

By @wistfulcynic | Rating: M

A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and rescue the town from a new and dangerous foe.

Read it on AO3

[exhaustedpirate]

i'm your dead girl walking

if you recognise the title, welcome to my heathers the musical brainrot! the song definitely influenced this absolute smut fest of a fic but there is a very fluffy ending! one day i'll learn to just give you smut but today is not that day! i give my heart to @belovedcreation for her amazing support and beta services for this fic, you're the best, babe!!

rated E | 8127 words also on AO3

summary: Regina manages to delay Peter Pan's curse for a few hours during which she spends time with Henry. Emma, having spent quality time with her family, decides to spend time with another equally special person. With only 6 hours until she is separated from Killian what else better to do than get "freaky"?!

Storybrooke’s Main Street was empty. All lights were turned off and the only source of light was the full moon. It was both eerie and peaceful, knowing what was to come.

Pan was defeated. Rumplestilskin was dead. There was a curse coming.

Emma sighed in the quiet night. Maybe she should be used to it, this impending doom every year, but really, who could? 

According to Regina, the curse would hit at dawn. She was glad for the extra time Regina gave them, time to say goodbye, time to just be together. After that, Henry and Emma were off to an adventure of their own and they would be separated from their family.

Right, there was no getting used to that. 

But now, with her parents asleep, Henry at Regina’s and everyone else making use of their last hours in the modern world, Emma felt restless. They had had a nice dinner at Granny’s, drank, and talked. There had been no tears, no frowns, no goodbyes. 

But he had been there, sitting in the furthest corner of the counter. He had shared a drink with David, smiled at something Granny told him. Had spoken to Neal, hugged him. Had looked at her, watched her and turned away when she looked back. And yet, no word to her.

Well, if that’s how he was going to play it then- Emma sighed again, interrupting her own thoughts. They had 6 hours before their whole lives would be disrupted, before they were all separated once more. 

Fuck it.

It was easy to reroute her wandering path. Before she knew it, Emma had stopped in front of Granny’s inn, her foot hovering over the first step. There was a faint light coming from the door, just like it had been two years ago when she first arrived in town. Walking through that door would be like proclaiming to the whole town what she intended to do and that was a mood killer.

Taking a step back, she saw one more light on. It was just as faint but it was on the second level and she could feel it, deep in her gut, that that was the window she was looking for. Emma took a deep breath as she looked up at it. Was she really about to do what she thought she was about to do?

Was she drunk enough for this? She could still feel that last drop of liquid courage in her stomach but really all that walking had sobered her up. Hopefully it was enough to give her that push. And really, it was a wonder she didn’t fall to her death as she climbed the trellis on the back wall, her only goal that faint light in the window. If she was thinking of anything but her destination, she would have laughed at how she wasn’t climbing with him but to him this time.

The window was locked because of course it was but she could see him lying in the bed with his back on the headboard, a beat-up book open with one hand, his hooked arm over his thigh. Hook was the picture of relaxation, his billowing black shirt unbuttoned, black leather trousers and bare feet on the bed. He really was making use of Granny’s offer of modernity on their last night in town.

It was now or never. Later she should have a chat with Granny about how easy it was to snap the window lock but it boded well for her tonight. Before she took a breath, Emma was stumbling into the room with an incredible lack of grace. 

“Swan.” As she fumbled to stand up, she watched Hook put down his book unhurriedly. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Shh.” She brought a finger up to her lips as she fumbled to remove her boots. “There’s only a few hours until everything goes to shit.” She took a mental picture of the amused and confused smirk twitching his lips as she approached the bed. “Now is the perfect time for you to give me that ‘fun’ you promised.” His eyebrow hitched before the other joined in shock when she straddled his lap. “Or was that all talk?” His book was thrown to the floor in a flash, his eyes never leaving hers.

“No,” Hook answered quickly. “I just didn’t think-”

“It’s like I said,” Emma interrupted. “We understand each other. This world is really unfair so I say we make it beautiful here.” Leaning over him, she placed her hands on his shoulders.

She saw lust, desire, confusion, sadness, affection in his eyes and that should have made her run out of that room. But how could she when this was what she wanted most? His hand found her hip and she deserved an award for keeping it together at the touch of his strong, warm hand. “What do you say?” She urged.

“That works for m-” 

Not wanting to waste any more time, she pressed her mouth against his just like she did in Neverland. And just like in that jungle, it only took a second for Hook to reciprocate the kiss, his mouth opening under her ministrations and giving just as good as she gave. His hand left her hip to thread into her hair while hers gripped his shoulders tighter, before she moved them down his shirt. 

She had never seen him so undressed before, not even in the sweltering heat of Neverland. Her fingers found the open parting of his shirt and felt the surprisingly soft chest hair underneath. His responding moan to her touch had her hand clench in his chest, a wave of arousal wafting over her. His lips left hers and for a split second she was going to complain before she felt his lips on her jaw, on her neck, by her ear. Her mouth opened in silent pleasure as she felt his hand on the small of her back pressing her closer to him. Her hands were trapped between their chests but she wasn’t complaining.

His lips found her ear and she gasped at the feel of his teeth nibbling her earlobe before his tongue soothed the sensitive skin. A moan escaped her lips as her nails dug into his chest, his skin warm under her touch and making him gasp against her skin. Pulling away enough to free her hands but not so much as to stop his ministrations, she slipped her hands inside his shirt and began to slide it down his arms. 

His hand left her back to completely remove his shirt and throw it god knows where. Without the distraction of his lips or her anxiety at starting this tryst, she took her time to look at his chest, her hands absent-mindedly following the path of her eyes. She took in his strong build, the muscles originated from hard work while at sea, his dark chest hair and the way it led down to a treasure she was excited to plunder tonight. 

“Looked your fill?” Her eyes wandered up slowly to where he was watching her with interest, his lips red and full from the kisses they shared, his cheeks pink. 

“Nope,” she answered, watching as his eyes widened in surprise before crossing her arms in front of her and pulling up her sweater and undershirt in one go. Boy, was she glad to have left her coat at home. She threw it behind her without looking, focused instead on the way his eyes took the same path her eyes had. His gaze felt like a touch and her skin broke into goosebumps at the thought. “Have you?”

He shook his head slowly as his hand ghosted its way up her back. She arched at the soft touch and she could swear his eyes darkened at the sight of her chest so close to his face. Before she could straighten her posture, she felt him pull her to him and then his mouth was on her collarbones, on her shoulders, on her chest, on the curve of her breast, pressing open mouth kisses on her bare skin. She fumbled behind her to unlatch her bra, removing it without disturbing his excellent work. She keened loudly when his lips latched onto her nipple, tongue lashing relentlessly and causing her to grind slowly against his lap.

She felt his responding groan against her flesh and his impressive erection between her legs. Her whole body lit up like the freaking fourth of July, her hands grabbed onto his head to keep him where she wanted him, to keep his talented mouth on her breasts. She had heard rumors of women orgasming just from this and thought them liars but this man was making her believe.

His hand, redundant in keeping her close to him, moved down her bare back until it reached the waist of her jeans. She wondered if he even knew what jeans were, if she should say something, if she should help him. All thoughts vanished from her head when he pressed his thumb hard against the ridge of her jeans, right on top of her aching clit. Was there like a clit magnet in that man’s finger? Her loud moan silenced any other noise.

With his left arm around her waist, his mouth on her other nipple and his thumb causing friction against her clit, she was almost sure that she was about to come like this. But there was something missing, and it wasn’t the way his teeth nibbled her flesh.

Her hands left his head and without the pull, he unlatched his mouth from her breast, looking up at her with dazed eyes and heavy breath. God, she wanted to commit that face to memory, engrave it in her brain. On instinct, she fused their mouths together, her nibbling on his lower lip just as he had done on her breast. He whimpered under her attention and, regrettably, his hand stopped moving. But that was probably for the best because it gave her the clarity of mind to reach for the button and zipper of her jeans.

“Emma…”

The way he moaned her name against her lips drew a shiver up her spine, her skin trembling in anticipation. With a last kiss to his swollen lips, she pulled away from his lap, sitting perpendicular to him on the right side of the bed. Glancing at his face, she saw the worry on his brow and the fear mixed with the lust in his eyes. But she couldn’t look at him any longer if she wanted to get out of these jeans. After a short struggle, she managed to peel the denim off her as well as her socks. Maybe she should be more concerned over where her clothes were going to end up but really, looking up to see the dark gaze of a plundering pirate just made everything else disappear.

Gone was the worry and fear, there was only desire in his eyes. Her mouth was parted as she breathed heavily and she leaned back on her hands, leaving her chest prominently out and vulnerable to his intense gaze. His hand landed on her ankle where it had landed on his lap, his thumb rubbing on her skin and causing goosebumps to rise up. Seemingly fascinated with her response, he moved his hand up her leg slowly before stopping on her thigh. His thumb reached the inside of her thigh and began to massage it carefully. An unexpected moan left her lips and she opened her legs wanting more of his touch and wanting it where she craved it most.

Swift as a cat, she blinked to find him on his knees between her legs, his eyes never leaving her underwear-clad center. His hand continued its upward motion on her leg, stopping at the apex of her thigh. His gaze met hers and his thumb met her clit, rubbing it in a slow circular motion. She moaned, throwing back her head. His thumb pressed firmly and she found her moans silenced by his desperate lips. 

“You’re so wet, Emma,” he whispered against her lips, his thumb circling softly while his fingers quested to her center. Her hips stuttered under his touch. “Can I taste you?”

His desperate question had her letting out a quiet moan before nodding her head. Her head was full of fantasies of what his touch and kisses merely hinted at. He hooked his finger and metal substitute on her underwear, the cold of the appendage causing her skin to tremble. She raised her hips to allow him to remove them and he surprised her by placing a kiss above her clit, a small hint of what was to come, his breathy chuckle making her shiver as it hit her skin.

She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop watching the way he kept his eyes on her center, on his focused frown, on his adoring lips. Damn, why hadn’t she done this before?

She watched as he laid down between her legs, as he raised her hips to place his arms underneath her ass, as his eyes darkened when her folds opened under his gaze. She watched as he lowered his head and yet still let out a gasping moan when he dragged his tongue from her center to her clit, wrapping his lips around it just as he had done with her nipples.

“You make the most delicious sounds, love,” he murmured and she felt the vibrations against her center making her thighs tremble. 

“Please.” She begged quietly, unused to the feeling but knowing that there was nothing else she wanted to do. She begged for his touch, for his mouth, for him. “Please, Killian.”

She felt his eyes on her before, with a loud moan, his tongue returned to her aching center, flicking over her clit and taking her breath away, her hands grasping for his head, tangling in his hair. His hand grabbed onto her ass cheek, bringing her as closer to him as he could, kissing her below as he had up top. And what a talented mouth that man has.

“Say it again,” he asked desperately against her before his tongue flattened against her clit and wiggled.

She wasn’t even sure what he wanted or had enough breath to ask but when she cried out, “Fuck, Killian,” it must have been the right answer. Suddenly, he raised to his knees, bringing her hips up with him, keeping her against his mouth. Her legs fell over each of his shoulders and his arms wrapped around her waist. Fumbling to grab onto the sheets, onto something, she settled in for a loud ride. His mouth was relentless against her cunt, licking against her clit, penetrating her with his tongue. Her moans were ringing in her ears but all she cared about was how she could keep his mouth against her forever. When his lips wrapped around her clit once more and sucked, everything shattered around her, back arching as she called out his name in her climax.

Her breathing was heavy, her legs turned to jelly and she didn’t even know how she was going to move after that. His hand and hook gently lowered her to the bed and she brought her hands to her hair, trying to get a hold of her breathing. Damn.

“Alright, Swan?”

His voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes to watch him looking down at her, his eyes burning with desire, beard glistening, chest heaving and hand shifting his cock over his tight trousers. That vision caused a fresh wave of arousal to pool at her center. 

Fuck. 

She must have said it out loud because his hand tightened and his lips parted in a quiet gasp. Drunk on the way he was watching her, Emma lowered her hands down her chest, passing across her nipples. The short contact had her biting her lip as it sent a spark down her body. His eyes followed her hands as she slowly ran them down her belly to stop at the top of her thighs. His tongue passed through his lower lip and he closed his eyes in a hum. 

The realization that he had likely tasted her in his lips had her circling her clit with her right pointer finger. He opened his eyes and she bit out a gasp at the way his pupils dilated at the sight of her pleasuring herself in front of him. Without taking his eyes off her circling finger, he unlaced his barely laced trousers, his cock springing out thick and hard. He took hold of it, his fist tightening around his base, and her mouth went dry. 

Two of her fingers slid easily inside her and she delighted in the way his head tilted and his teeth dug into his lower lip. She brought them out to circle her clit and back inside a few times, with the same rhythm he ran his hand up and down on his cock. Satisfied with how much of her fluids she managed to accumulate on her fingers, she sat up under his watchful eyes. 

Carefully bringing her fingers to his face, she smirked with the way he dutifully opened his mouth to welcome them. Her mouth parted as she breathed in sharply at the way he sucked and ran his tongue between them, cleaning all evidence of her arousal off of her fingers. Seemingly satisfied with his work, he released his hold on them but not before nibbling on her digits. 

Biting her lip, she manhandled him until he was sitting back against the headboard. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in confusion but, as she began to pull on his trousers, he bit his lip in excitement and lifted his hips to help her.

“Damn trousers,” she muttered in impatience under his amused grin.

“Never heard you complaining before.” 

She rolled her eyes and his whole face lit up in mirth. Wanting to stop his amusement and proud that she had finally removed the leather, she ran her tongue across the length of him. His teasing stopped as he let out a guttural moan, his hand clenching into a fist where it rested on his lap. She grinned victorious as she took hold of his shaft to bring his tip into her eager mouth and sucked.

“Fuck.” 

She preened under his unveiled pleasure, moving her hair over her shoulder, licked into his slit and moaned at the way his hand dug into the back of her neck. She took him further into her mouth and felt his hand clench in response. Taking hold of his wrist to urge him to take that control he so wanted, she relaxed her jaw and slowly lowered her head. He gasped and she felt him pull on her hair, inching her closer and closer to the base of his cock and she groaned in pleasure around him. She could feel herself getting wetter as she took more and more of him until her nose ghosted over his hip bone.

She felt him quickly pull her away from him and her bottom lip jutted out in an instinctive pout. She wanted more, needed more. He grinned over his heavy breathing and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She licked its tip and his grin widened. 

“I’m afraid I would spend myself in your lovely mouth if you kept going.”

She rubbed her thighs together at the image he made appear in her head and she pinpointed the moment he noticed by the glint in his eyes. Maybe next time. 

But there wouldn’t be a next time, would it? 

She could feel her spiraling thoughts get out of control and before they could ruin this next, her last night, she straddled his hips, a knee on either side of him. Before he could take his next breath, she slanted her mouth over his, letting the feel of his mouth and her lingering taste in his tongue overwrite any thoughts that weren’t about him and his talented mouth.

Her hips ground against his length, slathering it with her arousal, and his hand left her head to take hold of her ass, fingers tightening against her flesh and urging her to keep moving her hips over him. She moved her lips over his scruffy jaw, his mouth free to encourage her with his heavy breathing and quiet moans, until she carefully bit into his earlobe.

“Killian,” she whispered, receiving a louder moan in return, her hand running down his chest until she felt his tip on her fingers. “I need it hard.” 

As she bit more firmly in the flesh behind his ear, she raised her hips and lowered herself onto him. He entered her fully, taking away her breath and making her arch her back in one swift move. His moan was echoed in hers as she felt his left arm wrap around her waist to keep her close.

She tried to control her breathing, her body adjusting to his length, to the wonderful feeling of being connected to him. She joined their foreheads with a satisfied sigh and moved her hips in a tentative thrust. The feel of him inside her had them moaning in unison and she wanted nothing more than to hear that sound over and over again. Grasping onto his shoulders, she raised her hips until only his tip rested inside her.

“Tonight, I’m yours,” he whispered against her lips, his hand returning to the side of her neck, his left arm still heavy around her waist.

Tonight, she was his. 

She slammed her hips down on his and didn’t wait before she raised them again. Her movements were helped by his returning grip to her hip, urging to move as fast as she wanted, to take as much as she needed. He gave her control and she took it, moving up and down in his lap, taking her pleasure. She buried her face against his neck, her moans silenced against his skin, thighs trembling as she felt her orgasm build up. 

His thumb against her clit had her tumbling down into her climax, her back arching and head thrown back in a loud moan of his name. With a growl, she found herself on her back, his still hard length deep inside her and his mouth on her neck bringing her back to the present. 

She dug her fingers through his hair, keeping him against her skin, his almost imperceptible thrusts along with his hardworking lips preparing her for another round. Never had it been like this. She pulled his head up to look at her, wanting to look into his eyes, wanting to see his face when he came. She ran her thumb over his swollen bottom lip like he had done before and felt the rush of affection mirrored in his eyes overtake her.

“Make me forget,” She pleaded, her eyes reflecting the anxiety and panic she wanted to push away. All she wanted was to forget that soon, she would have to leave this town behind. She would have to forget her family; she would have to watch the only people who had ever wanted her disappear.

His hand trailed from her shoulder down and up to her wrist. He moved one of her hands away from his neck so he could kiss her palm, a kiss she felt all over her eager body, before he placed her arm more firmly around his neck. Knowing what he wanted from her, she moved her own arm, holding her own hand behind his neck. His lips ticked up in a small smile and he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist.

She let out a gasp when he shifted his hips adjusting his position. He smirked before he planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “As you wish, Emma.” The sound of her name washed over her and lit up the smoldering fire inside her.

Her moan was loud and deep at the way he began to thrust against her, a slow, deep grind made to fan the fire into a hot blaze. His chest rubbed against her nipples and her breath quickened. She could feel the hum inside her telling her that this orgasm would be just as good as the others, even if he just kept that touch, that speed.

To her displeasure, he stilled his hips and moved his chest away. Her nails dug into his back, desperate to keep him there, desperate for the release. She whined, opening her eyes to complain but fell silent when she saw his wrecked expression, his mirrored desperation.

Waiting, feeling the buzz of expectation under her skin, she watched as he took a deep steadying breath. She watched as he kneeled on the bed, his thighs glued to hers. Her hands fell to the bed as he straightened up, fisting the sheets at the look of hunger in his eyes. He ran the side of his hook down her thigh, the sensation making her bite her lip and moan when the tip rubbed carefully over her nipple. So lost in pleasure, she barely noticed when he maneuvered her legs until they were straightened against his chest. His hook left her breast so he could lift her hips up off the bed and slide a pillow under her ass, aligning them perfectly. 

Without warning, he reared his hips before slamming against her causing her to scream out. “Oh, fuck!” His lips pulled into a dirty grin, she could feel every inch of him inside her and, unable to gain any traction, all she could do was hang on for the delightful ride.

With unrivaled gusto, he slammed his hips again and again, the sounds of slapping skin, of his heavy breathing, of her loud moans, filling the room. The world around them vanished, all that existed was him and her, his touch, his moans and groans, her whimpers and shouts, his skin, her skin, them. 

The speed at which her orgasm hit her should have surprised her but he felt so good and filled her up so well that she was more surprised that it had taken that long. She clenched around him and his hips stuttered before he threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining with his restraint.

“Come, Killian,” she begged, needing to feel him, needing to see him. “Come for me.”

As if he had only been waiting for her order, his deep groan preceded the twitching of his cock inside her as he spilled his release. The feel of him filling her drew out her orgasm, making her feel so full, so right, so complete. His grip on her legs loosened as he came down from his high and, no longer restrained, she let them drop to the bed on either side of him. Grabbing his wrists, she eased him down on top of her until his warm body covered every inch of her, his head nestled on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair as they took control of their breathing, as she felt him soften inside her, as their bodies cooled down, unrushed.

Her fingers drifted onto his back, running up and down the light welts of scars she could feel, the marks of his long life, of his difficult life. She felt him placing chaste kisses on her skin as his breathing returned to normal. He touched on her own scars with those gifted lips, touched on the scars of her loneliness, her abandonment, and created another, a deep cut down her chest, and cauterizing it with the warmth of his breath. Her sigh was deep and satisfied as she cupped his head. His teeth nibbled on her stomach and she let out a breathy chuckle that he returned.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of sleeping tonight,” she warned, his mouth on her keeping the fire inside her alive. “It’s not morning yet.”

He hummed a denial, the vibration against her nipple making her bite her lip. “With you in my bed? Not bloody likely.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he sucked a mark on her breast, her nails digging into his shoulders. His hum of pleasure guided her into dragging her nails down his back, likely leaving red marks in her way. Still inside her, she felt his cock twitch. Interesting.

Taking hold of his hair and pulling his face to hers, she took a mental note of their mutual enjoyment of hair pulling and landed a smacking kiss on his lips. She pulled away to find him grinning at her, his eyes soft under the blaze of renewed desire. She clenched around him, drawing a hiss out of him and a grin from her.

“I need to go to the bathroom but-” She gestured with her head before pushing against his chest and against her will, causing him to slip out of her. He moved away slowly, reluctantly until they were both sitting on the bed. She pulled him to her for a dirty kiss, swallowing his moan with her lips. “Get yourself ready for me, won’t you?” Her innocent question was accompanied by a not-so-innocent drag on her nails over his hip bone, his responding moan feeding her growing arousal.

He nodded dazedly, watching her under hooded eyes as she slipped out of bed. She turned around to step to the bathroom, stopping when she felt the swat of his hand on her ass. She looked over her shoulder to see him settling down on the bed with a poor imitation of an innocent smile. She rolled her eyes to mask her smile before carrying on her way.

When she exited the bathroom, she found him still splayed on the bed watching for her return, his hand moving slowly up and down his half-hard shaft. Leaning against the doorway, she saw his cock twitch under her interested gaze, her hand moving up her body. Under his wicked grin, she sauntered to the bed, settling into his inviting lap, kissing the smile off his face. 

The next hours passed much like the previous, his talented mouth and cock dragging several orgasms out of her, his body full of marks from her own mouth, her nails and palms. His hook had created its own set of marks on her body, marks that drew a symphony of moans from her before it ended up digging into the mattress, cutting into like a hot knife through butter. They didn’t talk, nothing except moans, praises and demands escaping out of their lips. 

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won't think of you,” he’d whispered against her temple as she came down from another earth-shattering orgasm and she wanted nothing more than to return the sentiment, to assure him that she would think of this night, of him, everyday. 

But she couldn’t, so she kissed his chest instead, moving her lips higher and higher until she found his lips, leading them to another round, to another orgasm, to another memory. And at dawn, she kissed his parted lips and slipped unnoticed from his slumbering body. 

She met her family at the townline, almost thankful for the sadness of the moment as it stopped any questions they might have for her whereabouts that night, or why she winced with every step she took and how it masked her anger at having to say goodbye to something she was already missing. And she missed him. Missed them. Missed her family. Missed Storybrooke.

But still, she drove away from the town she had called home with her son beside her and sent a silent goodbye to the man she wished to remember, the man she had left asleep in his room. She said goodbye to Killian Jones and to the future he could have given her. She was almost thankful that she was losing her memories.

---

When he appears at her door, a bright happy smile on his face and her name spilling from his lips, she is surprised to find him in front of her. For so long, he was the main character in her dreams, in her fantasies, the first and only person she would think about at night, the man whose mere idea was enough to have her refuse that furniture seller’s invitation. And feeling his lips against hers sparks something inside her, a feeling of right, of balance, of peace. 

But she pushes him away, she brings her knee up to his crotch and she closes the door on his face. It’s impossible and she refuses it, ignoring the way her heart is still pounding on her chest.

But he’s persistent. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t give up. He says his name is Killian and she can almost feel the way her mouth would wrap around it in the throes of passion. His name is Killian and he tells her impossible things. He begs her to trust him and damn her, she does. She takes the vial from his hand and downs the liquid in one go. The memories assault her all at once - her parents, her son, Storybrooke, him.

“Killian?”

His eyes soften with his smile. “Did you miss me?”

She hears the teasing tone in his voice but she also sees the way his eyes plead with her, burn into her, and she does, she misses him so much that it’s almost like a physical tether pulling her to him. She takes hold of his face, vial forgotten on the floor, and pulls his lips to hers, hoping her desperate kiss answers his question. His arms wrapping tightly around her waist tells her it does.

“Emma-”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” she interrupts, her forehead touching his, her eyes clenched shut. “I wasn’t going to be able to leave if you were awake, and I-”

He silences her with a kiss, this one a mere press of his lips and she feels his smile against her mouth. “I know, love.” His hand cups her face, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I missed you too.”

She pulls him for a deep kiss, her tongue finding its way into his mouth, their moans lost against their lips, her fingers buried in his hair. She can still feel the way he touched, the way he held her, the way he marked her, the way he filled her. There is a burning inside her and she yearns for him just as she did that night a year ago.

“Wanna come to my apartment?” she murmurs against his lips, grinning at the way his hand tightens on her hip. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere, love.” And she believes him.

The walk back to her apartment isn’t long and she has done that path many times over the past year but now, hand in hand with the man she wants nothing more than to see naked again, it feels like an eternity. As they reach her door, she sends a silent thanks to Henry’s sleepover plans before opening it. She pulls Killian inside by the lapel of his coat, his back slamming against the door and closing it in a quick movement. His pleased grin tells her he likes it when she takes control but she is much more interested in what his mouth can do when it’s kissing her.

She has eliminated any space between them, letting her feel his moan reverberate against her chest. Her hands have found their way inside his coat and she is grasping and pulling at his shirt and waistcoat needing him naked. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” She complains before she slips his large coat from his shoulders.

“So are you.” His hand grasps at her jean-clad rear while his hook digs into her sweater. She hums in agreement and grins at his displeased moan when she pulls away from him.

“I need space to take off my clothes, don’t you think?” With a pointed gaze, she drops her coat and pulls off her sweater. 

“I’m incapable of thought around you, love.” He speaks towards her breasts and she would roll her eyes if she didn’t feel the goosebumps his intense gaze caused. Wanting to expedite the removal of their clothes, she began to walk backwards into her room and away from his grasp. 

Almost like he is reading her mind, he unbuttons his vest one-handed, the sight reminding her of his masterful fingers and the way he played her. He unbuttons his shirt only enough to pull it off by the collar. Her hands fall to the button of her jeans just as his find his laces. She kicks off her boots and throws them somewhere in the room, his bigger ones receiving the same treatment. They stand in the middle of her bedroom when she finally removes her jeans. His trousers fall to the floor and she is reminded of how the Enchanted Forest probably doesn’t have boxers when his cock is free to be admired by her lustful gaze.

“Swan.” His hoarse voice makes her drift her gaze up to his eyes and she is reminded of their fire, of their lust, now and then. “You’re looking at me like you want to devour me.” There’s no complaint, it’s almost like a wish he doesn’t want to admit to but she does.

Slowly, she steps up to him, his cock so close to her. Her eyes remain on his and the way they darken at her proximity. With a smirk, she grasps his length in her fist and nibbles at his parted lower lip. “That’s because I do.” 

Swiftly and silently thanking her carpeted floor, she sinks down to her knees, wasting no time in dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, the memory and the feeling of how he feels inside her mouth causing her to moan against him. His hand wastes no time in grasping onto her hair and she rewards him by welcoming him inside her mouth.

His moan echoes in her room and she closes her eyes in pleasure, in happiness. Her mouth works around him slowly but determinedly, his loud response spurring her on. Her hand slips between her legs to find her already wet center and circles her clit with her finger. His hand flexes on her hair and she drags her teeth over his underside dragging a loud curse from him. Tongue lapping over his slit, she looks up to find his eyes on her, burning with hunger.

“Pull my hair,” she orders before taking a deep breath and taking his whole length down her throat. His shout is loud and she slides two fingers inside her. She smiles internally when his fist twists in her hair and pulls, moving her up and down his length, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Fuck!” he curses before she feels him pull her away from his cock. She looks up at him breathing heavily and with her fingers rubbing small circles over her clit. “Fuck…” he repeats in a dazed whisper before he pulls her to her feet by her hair and crashes their mouths together, moans lost in the intense kiss. “What a heavenly mouth you have, Swan,” he whispers when they pull away, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip.

“I need you inside me,” she whimpers, grinding her hips where his cock is pressed against her belly. “Please, Killian.” 

His growl is the only warning she gets before his lips slant over hers and his hook tears at her bra. She moans against his mouth as she removes it the rest of the way and her nipples rub against his chest hair. She feels the bed against the back of her knees but is not allowed to fall with the way his left arm holds her against him. 

“I won’t last long,” he warns, looking into her eyes, his lips swollen and red like hers must look.

“Me either.” She can feel it, deep inside her, that earth-shattering orgasm she knows is about to be pulled out of her. They have all day, all night, forever. That thought has her pull his lips to hers, her nails digging into his back, his moan reverberating in her chest, in her heart.

He nods with closed eyes before he turns her around and she finds herself face down on her bedspread, feet on her carpeted floor and nudged apart by his. Her hips sway in expectation, in the feeling of him filing her once more, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She feels him peeling off her underwear and then his lips at her lower back, at her hips, kissing at the uncovered skin of her plump cheeks, her hands fisting her sheets at his touch. 

At the same time her underwear slips down to her ankles, his mouth finds her center, pulling a gasping moan from her lips. His pleased hum vibrates against her folds and she moves her hips closer to his face. “You’re so ready for me, love.”

She nods and looks at him over her shoulder. “It’s been a long time.”

A shadow passes over his eyes before he nods. “Then let’s not wait any longer.” 

“Please.” Her hips wiggle and begging becomes easier with him, when she knows she can lower her walls and he’ll keep her safe.

The world rights itself when he slowly drags against her walls and she feels like she found the missing piece of a puzzle. His chest is heaving as he waits for her to adjust to him, his eyes burning against her skin when she clenches around him. “Take me, Killian.”

His hips pull back and she is already waiting for the moment they’ll return to her. Her moan is lost in the plush quilt when he bottoms out inside her. His pace is relentless against her and it almost makes her forget the year they were apart. Almost. His brace keeps her hips in place while his hand on her upper back keeps her chest against the bed, her nipples rubbing against the fabric with every thrust. His hips stutter against her at a particularly deep thrust and she wonders how long he’ll be able to last and if it’ll be long enough for her to join him.

Before she can move her hand to her clit to help her along, his hand runs up to the back of her neck, fisting her hair and pulling. The pain mixed with pleasure is delicious and she needlessly places her hands on the bed to hold her up. “Yes! More, please, harder!” 

His fist tightens in her hair and it’s almost perfect, she just needs- The curve of his hook on her clit, pressing against her bundle of nerves, brings her to a loud climax, his name echoing in the hot room. She is pulled to an upright position and his arms wrap around her waist, slamming one, two, three more times against her before he comes with his mouth against her shoulder. His chest heaves against her back, his breathing is hot on her shoulder and she can feel their release drip down her legs. It’s perfect.

“Emma,” he whispers as his lips kiss their way up her neck. “I missed you so much.” His voice is wrecked over more than their straining activities and she lets her head fall over his shoulder to kiss his jawline. 

“Come with me,” she mumbles against his skin, wincing when he slips out of her. Taking hold of his hand, she pulls him to her ensuite. “We need a shower.”

They are quiet as she guides him inside the glass case before she follows. They are quiet as the warm water runs down their bodies, as they slather their bodies in soap, as he massages shampoo in her hair with his hand, as she does the same for him, as they let the water clean them of any remaining product. It’s good - feeling him so close, his touch, his presence. She wants it everyday. She wants him, not just his body, him.

Still without talking, she guides their dry bodies under her sheets, not caring for the afternoon sun still shining outside her window. She needs to lay with him, she needs to have this slow moment with him, to have this time. His eyes stay on hers as they lay on their sides facing each other under her cozy sheets and his hand leaves her grip to move her still damp hair behind her ear, his fingers ghosting over her jawline until his thumb runs over her bottom lip.

“You came to bring me home, didn’t you?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, knows it already. “Something happened.”

“I came back for you,” he answers, his hand taking hers back in his grip. “Something has happened but to be honest, I was just waiting for an excuse to come back to you. Someone sent me a memory potion and a message that a curse was coming, so I took the Jolly Roger as fast as I could away from its purview.”

Her eyes widen. “You outran a curse?” 

“I’m a hell of a Captain.” His smirk is small but it still makes his eyes shine and she brings her free hand to his face. His eyes flutter closed at her touch. “As soon as the dust settled, I knew that the barriers were down and all I needed was a magic bean to find you.”

“Magic beans are not easy to come by.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise and suspicion.

“They are if you have something of value to trade.” His words are careful and his eyes lower to her shoulder.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head before returning his gaze to hers, pain hidden beneath resolve. “Now that you have your memories back, we can return to Storybrooke and see what the damage is. All that matters is that you remember.”

There is more to the story, she can tell. She had seen his desperation for her memories to return and now she sees the grief he tries to hide. “What did you trade for the bean, Killian?”

His eyes and mouth widen at her unrelenting questioning and for a moment, she wonders if he is going to lie to her. “It really is of no consequence, Em-.” 

With her hands on his shoulders, she forces his back onto the mattress while she sits looking down at him, her eyes drilling into his. “What was the price?”

He sighs defeatedly. “The Jolly Roger.”

Her breathing stops and she feels her lips part and eyes widen. His ship, his home, and he traded it to bring her back, for her. She can feel her heart slam against her chest at the realization but instead of panic, there is something else, something scarier, something that had ruined her before. 

But as she looks into his eyes, those loyal, determined blue eyes, she realizes that this is different, she is different and he is different too. And suddenly, it all comes down to a simple truth. “I love you, Killian.”

It comes unrestrained, the words wrapping around the silence that fills the room. His eyes are bright and wide, an overwhelming hope and disbelief making her want to repeat those words until he believes in them. So she does, her voice stronger than before, more confident. 

“I love you.”

She is an open book to him. He reads her heart in her eyes and she sees the moment he finds that simple, wonderful truth. His lips stretch out into a dazzling smile, the definition of happiness. “I love you, Emma.” And how could you not smile at such beautiful words?

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, softer than any kiss they had shared but just as good, if not better. The kiss is more than skin connecting with skin. She feels whole as his arms wrap around her and her hands cup his face. She loves him and he loves her. 

It is perfect.

Tomorrow, she’d worry about fairytale parents, villains and curses. Tomorrow, she’d be their Savior. Tomorrow, she'll go back home. Tomorrow, she’d worry.

Today? Today, she is going to enjoy the feel of Killian’s arms around her. Today, she is going to let him love her with his mouth, with his body, with his words, with his actions. Today, she is going to be Emma Swan, the woman who loves a fairytale pirate and is loved in return.

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Trying Something New: Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief -- a Captain Swan, Once Upon a Time fanfiction

Summary: 

After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.

Read on fanfiction.net or AO3 or below.

Note: Remember that Emma and Killian have given themselves the aliases of Emily and Colin, and they told Marian that her name was Maria. So any POVs that aren't Killian or Emma with an exception or two, will call them Colin and Emily and Maria. I know it will be confusing for a bit, but that's partly why I chose names so close to their actual names, not just to help Emma and Killian remember but to help readers as well.

For my own sanity, Marian's POVs the narration still calls her Marian, but she will call herself Maria. 

Also, while I was writing the muse went wild and decided to bring in a character from a certain kingdom that I wasn't prepared for. 

And the muse decided Killian's new backstory, not me. I don't know why I let the muse out of the kennel, because she always goes wild. 

Hope you guys enjoy. 

Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief

When they arrived in town, Killian led them to an inn further away from the docks where it wasn’t all that busy. The small inn looked quite cozy with its brick facade and warm light shining through the windows. 

He opened the door for Emma and Marian, allowing them to enter first. 

Emma was relieved to be inside where it was warm and where she was one step closer to a bed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could’ve spent walking, even with Killian's support. She felt like a freight train hit her and she'd collapse at any moment. 

The late fall chill was settling in and soon enough winter would be coming. Emma hoped they’d be back home by then if she could get that stupid wand to actually work. 

“May I help you?” An older woman with a kind smile, but sharp brown eyes, looked at them from behind round glasses. 

“Yes, milady.” Killian stepped forward with a charming smile. “My wife,” he motioned to Emma, “our companion,” he motioned to Marian, “and I were all traveling on our way to your lovely town when our horses were stolen.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “Oh my dears, I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

Killian played his part well as he asked her for two rooms; one for Marian and one for them. 

The older woman looked at Emma softly, clearly pleased that a young, newly married couple (according to Killian’s story) were planning on making Marawick Harbor their home. As Killian laid on the charm, Emma smiled small and shy, acting the part of the blushing bride. Honestly, she was too tired to try to speak and add to their act.  

Marian smiled as well, but with her memories gone, she wasn’t too confident in her interactions. 

“Of course, dear.” The old lady smiled a little bigger. “I’m Mrs. Wright. How long will you three be staying with us?”

“Well, we’ll be here for a while.” Killian said. “It might take some time to find more permanent lodgings.”

“Oh how wonderful.” Mrs. Wright smiled. “Since you don’t know how long you’ll stay, perhaps pay for five days and should you find more permanent lodgings before then, you’ll be reimbursed.”

“A lovely idea.” Killian said. “I’ll be paying for both rooms. Poor Maria here lost the most in the robbery. She helped us when we needed it, so it’s only fair to return the favor.”

Emma looked around as the prices were discussed and the room paid for; it was very clean and tidy, which gave her hopes for their room. It was then that Emma realized a flaw in the marriage plan. They’d be getting one room which very likely would have just one bed. Even if it was a big bed, it was still one bed. They’d slept near each other before, camping out in the Enchanted Forest and Neverland, but this would be different. They’d be in closer quarters for one thing. He’d probably be a gentleman and take the floor, but having slept in worse places, Emma didn’t want him to suffer a full five nights or longer if they couldn’t find a place to live. 

“Ready, my love?” Killian asked, turning to her. 

Marian was already following Mrs. Wright up the stairs. 

Emma smiled and took his arm again. Her heart skipped hearing the “my” before love, but she knew that it was just for show for the old lady. Of course, he had feelings for her, but he couldn’t love her so soon? Well, all right, they’d known each other for over a year and a half, but the better part of it they were separated and she hadn’t even remembered him. 

They were led to a room on the second floor, the lady unlocked one for Marian and then the one across the hall for them. One key went to Marian and the other to Killian. “A hot bath will be brought up shortly for both of you young ladies.”

Emma and Marian both thanked her. When Mrs. Wright disappeared, Emma stepped towards Marian. “I could heal your head if you’d like.” Really Emma felt obligated to since they caused her head injury, but she wasn't sure if she could stand to use more magic. 

Marian shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve done so much for me already. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin thanking you.”

“No need to worry about it.” Killian reassured her. 

Marian smiled before entering her own bedroom. 

“So what do we do now?” Emma asked once they were ensconced in the sanctuary of their private room. Emma unbuttoned her cape, glancing at the single bed at the center of the room. It looked to be about full sized. That would be close sleeping quarters. Emma draped her cape over the back of the armchair by the fire, which was low, but still burning. She ignored the singular bed for now, moving instead to sit in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It was a great relief to sit down. 

“Well, if we’ve learned anything on this adventure, we can’t mess with the main timeline.” Killian said, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. “So best thing to do is stay low. We’ll need to find work and a place to live since we don’t know how long we’ll be here. Marawick is a busy port, but it’s far from your parents and Regina.” He explained. “I can guarantee my crew only docked here in emergencies, and since we know my ship, should that happen, we can easily avoid that.” 

“Okay.” Emma nodded. “What job is low profile?” 

“What skills do you have?” Killian asked. 

“Well, I’m a former thief, waitress, bail bonds person, and sheriff.” Emma said. “I doubt the Enchanted Forest has many female law enforcement officers.”

“Well the military is the law.” Killian said. “But you’re not wrong. Female soldiers are unheard of. I’m not sure about waitresses, but a barmaid might be too risky, especially if someone we knew or my past self showed up.”

Emma could agree with that. In her time, bar brawls were a constant, so she expected taverns in this day and age would be full of fights that would draw way too much attention. “So that leaves me with nothing.” 

“We’ll figure it out, Swan.” Killian reassured her. “We just have to stick together.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that.”

His heart stuttered a bit in surprise before he smiled shyly at her.

Emma’s own heart skipped a beat. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

Hurrying over to the door, Killian opened it to find maids with the bath. Once it was settled and they were given towels, rags, and soap, the women asked if anything else was needed. 

“No, thank you.” Emma smiled, allowing Killian to usher the maids away.

Killian set up the privacy screen. “I can leave if you’d like.” 

“The privacy screen is enough.” Emma said, walking behind it. She saw Killian’s silhouette through it due to the firelight behind him. She watched him sit in the armchair, which had its back to Emma. As she took off her clothes, hanging them up, she realized that they didn’t have clothes for bed. With how much magic she used today, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to use it anymore. “What about you?” Emma asked, making conversation to distract herself from that line of thought.

“I can live without one.” Killian said. He took a seat in another armchair and closed his eyes. It had been quite an exhausting couple of days. 

“Why don’t you use the bath after me? I’ll be quick so the water will be warm.” Emma suggested as she soaped herself up. 

“Don’t worry about me, love.” Killian said. “Also, soap in this time isn’t used in hair. You’ll have to use hair oil. Over there on the vanity.” 

Emma glanced over towards the vanity where there were a few bottles of oil, a hairbrush, a comb, a hand mirror, and other items sat ready for use. “Killian, we can both take a bath. We both need it.”

Killian wasn’t too sure about that. Then he looked over at the bed. The lone bed. That was an easy enough fix. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

A huff of frustration left Emma over the subject change. Why was he being so stubborn? “We’re adults, Jones. We can responsibly share a bed.”

He sighed, sensing that they’d only end up arguing more about it if he didn’t concede. Maybe she’d fall asleep first and he could sneak onto the floor. It probably wouldn’t effect her as much as it would him for them to share a bed together anyway. “Fine.”

Emma knew the conversation wasn't over and he was still going to fight her on this, but Emma was tired enough to take whatever victories she could get. Sinking into the warm, steaming water, Emma bit back a moan of pleasure. It wouldn’t do to make sex sounds in mixed company, particularly company she knew would enjoy hearing those sounds. Despite the warm water, thinking about sex and Killian in the same go sent a thrill down her spine. Stop it, Emma. Come on, you can’t think about this. When you get back home and things settle down, then you and Killian can have a long talk. 

Emma continued to lather herself up, trying to dismiss the man from her thoughts, despite him being only feet away. 

Killian stared into the fire, desperately trying to block out the sounds of water splashing behind him. The last thing he needed was picturing Emma naked and wet. Shaking his head, he thought about the next steps that needed to be taken. They needed more clothes. Emma couldn’t keep conjuring things or transforming items. She was hiding it, but he could tell that her magic was draining her. Perhaps in the morning, they could go to a tailor and order some clothes. He’d also have to give some money to Marian as she was as much his responsibility now as Emma, even if he felt Emma was his priority above all else. 

He walked over to where he left his coat and took it back to the armchair. Going through his pockets, he emptied everything out onto a small circular table beside the armchair just to double check how much he had after paying for the rooms in advance. A handful of gold and silver coins, which would last them awhile. Various jewelry pieces with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and opals. Those would fetch a good price. He’d probably use up the coin they had while job and house hunting and save the jewelry for emergencies. He returned everything to his pockets and realized the room was silent. He looked over at the privacy screen. “Emma?” 

There was no answer. 

“Emma?” He called again. When there was still no answer, Killian hesitated, but he had a feeling she’d fallen asleep. Carefully, he peaked around the screen, trying not to see anything he shouldn’t. As he looked, he saw Emma was asleep, her head bent back over the tub rim, hair cascading out. Knowing how tired she was, he was loathed to wake her, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to get her out of bath without her consent. He walked over, kneeling next to the tub. Reaching out his hand, he gently shook her exposed shoulder with his hand. “Emma, love, wake up.”

It took a few more shakes and calling her name for her eyes to flutter open. “Killian?” 

“You fell asleep in the tub.” Killian explained. He stepped away and grabbed a towel as Emma moved to sit up. He held it out for her, diverting his eyes. 

Emma sleepily stood up in the tub and took the towel from Killian, shakily wrapping it around her body. She swayed a bit as the fog of sleep refused to clear. Damn, her magic took more out of her than she thought.

Realizing that Emma was still tired, Killian held his hand and fake hand out to her. “Here, love.”

Emma took his hand and allowed him to hook his arm around her to help her out of the tub. “Thanks.” As she steadied herself, she looked up at him. “We don’t have sleeping clothes.”

And she was too tired to conjure any. Killian understood her meaning. “Go ahead and dry off. You can sleep in my shirt.”

Emma nodded and walked over to the bed. 

Killian quickly unbuttoned his vest and hung it up, before pulling off his shirt. He walked over to find Emma sitting on the bed, wrapped in her towel. “Here you are.” He set the shirt beside her and turned away. 

Quickly Emma shrugged on the shirt over the towel. She stood up, straightening the shirt, and dropping the towel to the floor. She pulled back the covers and fell into the bed, letting sleep claim her once more. 

Killian turned after a few minutes and saw Emma passed out, the covers haphazardly over her. His brows drew together with concern. He shouldn’t have pushed her to use her magic so much when she wasn’t used to it. Walking over to her, Killian properly tucked her in before taking his own bath. The water was lukewarm, but that was fine. At least he’d get clean. Once he was done, he took a throw blanket and the other pillow and made a pallet on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Finally letting the days catch up to him, Killian let his exhaustion take over and he soon fell asleep. 

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

After her bath, Marian realized since they were robbed, she had no other clothes. She dried off and decided to sleep in her tunic and undergarments. There was no money on her, so she wasn’t going to be able to buy much of anything without a job. 

Colin had been too kind to pay for her room for the week; he and Emily both did so much for her that she felt she could never repay them. 

Still, her lack of memory didn’t sit well with her. Her head ached, but it dull now. Colin and Emily looked so surprised at her amnesia that Marian doubted they were involved. They’d been so kind she doubted there was anything nefarious motivating them to help her. 

But why could’t she remember anything? Even her own name eluded her until Colin told her it was Maria. Her name didn’t feel quite right, but if that’s the name they knew, surely it had to be her name? Who was Maria though? Where was she from? Why had she been on her way to Marawick Harbor? Did she have family here? Or had she left family behind her?

It was all so confusing and overwhelming. 

Dressing for bed, Marian tried hard to think of anything. What was her mother’s name? Her father’s? Did she have any siblings? Aunts? Uncles?

Nothing came to her. Her mind filled with absolute nothingness.

She fell into bed, her dull ache pounding as her mind fought to uncover its secrets. 

Tears filled her eyes as a deep sense of pain and loneliness overcame her. No one knew who she was, not really, and she had no memory of those who knew her. Colin and Emily, kind as they were, were strangers. Even they admitted they’d only just met her on their travels; likely they’d known her for a day or two at most. 

Why had she been traveling alone before? Perhaps she was independent and stubborn. Had she decided to go out on her own? Had she left a home behind to forge a new path?

Her pillow muffled her sobs as Marian allowed the emotions of the day to possess her. 

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

He was up before the sun, still feeling exhaustion in his bones. Pushing himself up, Killian looked up at the bed from his position on the floor, finding Emma still asleep. Good, she deserved rest after everything that she’d been through. Unfortunately, that also meant that he couldn’t get his shirt back just yet. He hoped to get some things done this morning, but he didn’t want to wake her. Perhaps he could don his vest and coat, but that would get him some strange stares. It wasn't cold enough to have his coat fully buttoned up. No, he’d just have to wait until Emma awoke. 

Killian rose from the floor and stretched away the soreness from the past few days and sleeping on the floor. After a good stretch, he went over to where the water pitcher was and poured a glass. Leaning against the dresser, he watched Emma sleep while he drank the water. Sometime in the middle of the night, she moved to the middle of the bed, her arm stretched out over one side. Her face was relaxed in sleep, not peaceful, but at least open and unguarded. It was a nice sight to see. One day, he hoped to see her unguarded in her conscience state as well. 

He wondered if Marian was doing all right. Before they headed out into town, he’d need to give her some money to buy herself some things. While they had to look out for Marian, Killian wished he could keep his focus on Emma. Even though Marian had no memories, surely some things from her life still stuck with her, but Emma was completely new to this world and he had to help her learn. It would be hard to help her with Marian around and not raise Marian’s suspicions. 

When he finished his water, he perused the room for something to do. There were a few books, but nothing piqued his interest, so he chose to sit in the armchair. Once Emma was awake, they’d dress and get Marian and then get some breakfast. Then they’d get clothes and much needed items. After that, permanent lodgings would be a priority. Jobs would be another matter. Since this was a port town, perhaps he could be a fisherman or find some job on the docks. Those were the ones he was best qualified for. For Emma, that would be a little harder. Marian was another story altogether. 

They agreed a barmaid was too risky for Emma. There weren’t truly any jobs that her bail bonds or sheriff skills would be of use. It truly was unfortunate how limited jobs for women were in the Enchanted Forest. There had to be something that Emma could do. Though they wouldn’t know what jobs were even available until they ventured out in the town.

He watched the sun rise through the window of the inn, lost in thought as his mind turned to ways to return to their future. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t a viable option, but Killian didn’t know much of other sorcerers or witches around who could help. They still had the wand, of course, but Emma hadn’t gotten it to work. He wasn’t sure if Rumplestiltskin had been lying or not, but if he’d been telling the truth and Emma’s magic was back, then why hadn’t it worked? What was keeping them here?

As the morning sun rose higher, Killian's attention returned to Emma. Concerned that she wasn't waking, he walked over to the bed, sitting at her side. Gently, Killian brushed a few errant locks away from her face. "Emma?" 

No response. She was breathing; her chest rising and falling steadily. 

That was a relief, but Killian wondered if her magic use had unintended consequences. "Emma, love, can you wake up for me?" 

Not even a groan or grumble left her. She was warm to the touch, but not feverish. She was sleeping, just not waking. 

There was a knock on their room door.

Killian silently cursed. Clearly her magic exhausted her, but it wasn't something he could explain to the maids. Not if they wanted to keep her magic secret. "Who is it?"

"It's Maria." Marian called through the door. 

Killian waked over to the door and opened it, pulling her inside, before shutting the door. 

Marian registered that he was shirtless and tensed up. "Now just wait a minute, you cannot just manhandle..."

"I know, I'm sorry." Killian said, cutting her off. "Emily isn't waking up." He headed back towards the bed, not sure what to do. 

"What do you mean she's not waking up?" Marian followed him, concerned. 

"I think she used too much magic." It was the only thing Killian could think of for Emma's state. "She's not use to using it so much."

Guilt settled in Marian's gut. Hadn't she pushed Emily to use her magic? "What can I do to help?"

Killian brushed his hand against Emma's cheek. He figured she'd be all right for now if she was just sleeping off the ill effects, though Killian worried about just how long Emma would stay like this. "For now, I don't think there's anything we can do." He turned to Marian. "I need to go around town and get some things done. Since we didn't have sleeping clothes, Emily borrowed my shirt. Can you help me change her into her undergarments?" 

Marian nodded, walking over to the vanity where Killian folded up Emma's clothes the night before. 

Killian leaned over Emma and whispered. "Forgive me love. I'll be on my best behavior." His joke fell flat even for him. 

When Marian brought Emma's undergarments and tunic over, they worked together to undress her and redress her, Killian keeping his touch as light and noninvasive as possible without causing suspicion. After all, he was meant to be Emma's husband. This wasn't supposed to be the first time he ever saw her fully unclothed. With Marian's help though, it was a quick process. 

"Could you stay here with her?" Killian asked Marian. "I know it's a lot to ask..."

"Not at all." Marian said. "You've done so much for me, this is the least I can do."

Killian nodded gratefully. He pulled on his shirt and began to fully dress for the day. "I don't know if a healer can help her, but I look around for one. I have other things to do, but I'll come check in when I can. If there are any changes, send someone for me." He ensured all of his coins and jewels were on him. Once he was ready, Killian couldn't help himself, he went back to Emma and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back, Swan." He whispered. "I promise you'll be all right." 

He turned to Marian. "Take care of her." 

"I will." Marian said, not sure exactly what she else she could do.

Killian left the room with a determined stride. He needed to find a healer, but not just any healer. He needed one who understood or had magic. Could he find one here? 

Mrs. Wright might know where to start. 

He headed down to the front desk. 

"Good morning, Mr. Jones." Mrs. Wright greeted. Then she saw his grim expression. "Is everything all right?"

"My wife seems to have fallen ill." Killian said. "Do you know where I can find a healer?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Wright said. "There's a woman who lives near the docks. Vivienne Wilder. I'm not one to fall ill myself, but others say her touch is like magic."

Magic. That intrigued him. "Thank you, Mrs. Wright."

Now, he needed to find out if it was like magic or actual magic. 

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

“Oh leave me alone.” An old man growled at the young woman standing before him. His scowl deepened the wrinkles on his pale face. One milky blue eye didn’t see ahead of him, while the other glared at Vivienne Wilder, the resident healer of the Wharf.

Vivienne, who looked in her twenties, sported long black hair in a tight bun. Sepia skin stood out underneath her pale yellow top, and her brown corset and skirts were plain. Sharp dark eyes rested under an arched brow. “Mr. Holbrook, I need to check your ankle.”

“Grandpa.” A young red-haired girl of about ten poked the older man in the shoulder. “Let Miss Vivienne take a look. Grandma says it’s been bothering you.”

“I don’t need no healer.” Mr. Holbrook huffed. “Me ankle is just fine.”

His granddaughter shook her head and spoke to the healer. “Grandma says he’s been limping for days now. Thinks he pulled something.”

“You hush now, Eileen.” Mr. Holbrook admonished. “I can move around just fine.”

“Mr. Holbrook, are you in pain or is your ankle just causing discomfort?” Vivienne asked, deciding to ignore his cantankerousness. 

Holbrook huffed. “It’s just fine I tell you.”

Vivienne shook her head. “Fine. If it’s causing true pain I suggest drinking a cup of ginger tea in the morning and at night.” She handed a vial of oil to Eileen. “Also, rub rosemary oil along the ankle every night and wrap it in a cold compress.” 

“How much for the oil?” Eileen asked.

Vivienne smiled. “No charge this time, but if he’s still having problems, let me know.”

“I ain’t having problems.” Holbrook grumbled. 

Vivienne shook her head and walked away. Mr. Holbrook would come around; he was just old and stubborn. She needed to see to other patients. While she'd lived in Marawick Harbor for just over a year, it took time to earn trust and build up her reputation. 

It wasn’t the first time she had to start over and she doubted it would be the last. There were times she missed home, of course, but going back wasn’t an option. 

As Vivienne turned up an alley, an old woman caught her eye. Wrap in a cloak of black, with silver hair framing her ancient features. 

The Crone’s grey eyes pierced Vivienne in place.

Vivienne curtsied. “Well met, Wise One.” 

“Well met, daughter.” The Crone said. “Lir’s son returns. He has the Light with him.” The Crone was never one to beat around the bush. 

Vivienne’s heart stopped for a long moment. “The older one or the younger one?” 

The Crone grinned showing crooked, yellowed teeth. “The younger one.”

“And he has a Savior with him?” Vivienne scoffed. She remembered him well. Always trailing after her and his brother. Unlike his brother, Lir’s younger son inherited the sea’s tempestuous nature. Leap first, think never. 

“Not just any Savior.” The Crone said. “The Savior. The one to finish what your father began.” 

Disbelief was a rather paltry term for what Vivienne felt in that moment. “The Savior?” It took a moment longer to compose herself. That’s why the Crone was here. “You need something of me?”

“The Savior is untrained. Reckless with her magic.” The Crone said. Her ancient eyes looked Vivienne up and down. “You’ll have to do.” 

“Me?” It didn’t take long for her to understand. “Me? You want me to train the Savior in the craft?” 

“It isn’t as though your father is available.” The Crone lamented. 

Of course, she’d prefer it if he was. Vivienne thought bitterly. Her father was The Sorcerer after all. “What of Lir’s son?” 

“He remembers nothing.” The Crone shrugged. “That is for the best. He’d be much more dangerous if he did.” The old woman stepped forward, looking Vivienne straight in the eye. “Train the Savior, and you will be rewarded.” Then she disappeared in a swirl of mist. 

“Fuck.” Vivienne cursed. The last person she wanted to deal with was Killian Jones. 

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

His eyes searched the market for a new mark. Sure, he got proper work once in a while being a lamplighter or a courier ever so often, but Dodger couldn’t let his skills get rusty. 

Any thief worth their salt kept perfecting their art. 

A new face to market caught Dodger’s attention. Average looking fellow, with a thick beard. His clothes were rather nice. A determined stride told Dodger the man was on a mission, which meant he’d be too focused on his goal to pay much attention. 

Dodger used the alleys to get ahead of the man. It looked as though the man was headed in the direction of the docks, so Dodger hurried along in between buildings, coming out near the end of the market, closer to the Wharf end. 

He was now in front of his mark, watching the man walk through patrons with ease. Dodger pretended to be looking at stalls as he made his way towards his mark. Passing by closely, Dodger’s feather light touch fished a few coins out of the man’s pocket. 

Smirking at his success, Dodger didn’t expect a hand on his arm, jerking him back. 

Fierce blue eyes glared at him. “I’ll have my coins back, if you please.” 

His mark marked him. Great. Okay, time to play the innocent victim. 

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Dodger’s offended act was instinct. Even as he looked at the man, sensing danger, he thought maybe he could keep it up. After all, how dangerous could this posh bloke be? "Whatever do you mean?"

The man rolled his eyes. “I don’t have times for games. Hand over the coins and I won’t alert the authorities.” He held out his hand expectantly. 

Dodger stepped back to put distance between them. “Good sir, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about." He needed to convince this man that he was wrong; if he left now, the man would alert the soldiers, and Dodger hadn't gotten caught in Marawick yet, but he didn't have the means to leave the city. 

The man smirked and Dodger's blood ran cold. Calculating anger filled blue eyes. Dodger swallowed. You sure know how to pick 'em, Dodge. 

"Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly." The man stepped closer, hand grabbing Dodger's arm in a vice grip. "I've no time to mess about. Give me my coins, and I won't gut you like a codfish and leave you here for the vultures to pick apart."

Something in the man's eyes made Dodger believe his threats. Unassuming as the man was when Dodger marked him, this man was far from unassuming now. Dodger debated for a moment longer; run or give in. Though he doubt he'd be running from this man for long. He handed the coins over. 

"Thank you," The man grinned tightly before walking off. 

Dodger watched him go, an intense curiosity filling him. Just who was that man?

Don't do it, Dodge. He told himself. Leave it be.

Ah hell, he was the Artful Dodger. When did he ever leave well enough alone?

Dodger kept to the shadows as he followed the man into the Wharf. 

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

Emma woke up in a meadow of pink flowers. The sun shone through the canopy of trees, birds chirped, but the world felt as though it was covered in haze. 

"Killian?" Emma called out. Where was he? Where was the inn? She remembered being in the bath and then briefly Killian helping her out. 

She was fairly certain that she fell asleep in a bed. "Killian?" She slowly stood up, looking around at her surroundings. 

"He isn't here." A man spoke, appearing out of nowhere. 

Emma stepped back. "Who the hell are you?"

The man appeared young, in his late twenties or early thirties, it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a thick, brocade shirt, underneath a brown leather tunic vest, and brown pants. His dark brown eyes felt ancient as they looked her over. "I'm Merlin." He said simply.

Emma stared him down as she processed that. "Bullshit."

Merlin grinned. "You're parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, you've met the Evil Queen, Rumplestiltskin, Peter Pan, and your lover is Captain Hook, but Merlin existing is a stretch?"

"Hook isn't my..." Emma shook her head. "Never mind. So what, Camelot and Excalibur are real too?"

"Indeed they are." Merlin smirked knowingly. "But they are also concerns for another time. Right now, I'm more concerned about your appearance here."

"Where is here?" Emma asked. 

"The Astral Realm." Merlin said. "A plane of existence in between living and dead." He motioned to the meadow around them. "This is the Middlemist Meadow of Camelot. I used to tutor my students here. It's a place I find calming. You see, I'm in between life and death myself, trapped for eternity. This is my piece of home." Merlin focused on Emma. "It worries me that the Savior is here."

"I'm not dying, am I?" Emma asked, fear gripping at her heart. She didn't want to die without seeing her family or Killian again. 

"Depends on how you came to be here." Merlin said. "What happened, Miss Swan?"

"Uh, well, it's a long story." Emma said. 

Merlin smiled patiently, a paternal air about him. It made Emma wonder just how old he truly was. "I have plenty of time." He sat down amongst the flowers and beckoned Emma to join him. 

Warily, Emma joined him, uncertain about whether or not to trust him. Even so, she briefly explained her plight leaving out some details here and there she didn't deem necessary, but explaining about the time travel and her overuse of magic. 

"Ah, so you've been training under the Evil Queen." Merlin said. 

Emma hadn't mentioned that. "How did you know that?" Her eyes narrowed as she leaned away from him.

"The Astral Realm transcends realms." Merlin said. "I can be anywhere, any time, and watch anyone."

"Creepy." Emma huffed. 

Merlin shrugged. "It's useful. I've seen Storybrooke and I'm aware that Regina and the Dark One are the only two people you could learn magic from. Considering your magic is the antithesis to the Dark One, he certainly would never teach you. That leaves Regina, and she isn't one to actually sit you down and explain things."

"You're right about that." Emma said. "So what is happening to me?"

"You're fine." Merlin said. "You're in Healing Sleep."

"What is Healing Sleep?" Emma asked. 

"Magic drains the system." Merlin began. "Regina uses magic all the time, so she's built up a tolerance to the drain. More than that, she also isn't very powerful and limited on how much magic she can expend, so even if she felt the drain, it wouldn't cause total exhaustion. There are certain beings, demigods, products of True Love such as yourself, elves, true sorcerers, who have so much power that it's harder to control. You aren't limited on how much magic you can use like Regina is, which means you can overdraw your power. Thus causing Magical Fatigue. Healing Sleep happens when you over use your magic to the point your body forces you to rest in order to refill your magical reserves."

Disbelief overcame her. "Wait, I have unlimited magic?" 

"No, you have a higher limit of how much magic you can use." Merlin explained patiently. "True Love is the most powerful magic of all, but you don't have the same benefits of other species, who have power. You're still a mortal, you still bleed, and you will fatigue. Even after training and building up your tolerance, you would still need to watch how much magic you call upon." 

"Okay, well, I'm stuck in the past for the next four years," Emma sighed. "I'll need to learn this stuff. I just need to wake up first."

"Fate already has a teacher in mind." Merlin smiled. "You'll meet her soon. As for waking up, well, depending on your body's recovery time and how much magic you used, you could be asleep for days, or weeks, or..."

"Don't finish that sentence." Emma glared. "If you're some great sorcerer, why can't you teach me?"

"I'm indisposed at the moment." Merlin said. "You can only meet me in the Astral Realm, but it's dangerous to spend too much time here if you're a novice. It likes to play tricks sometimes, which means if you aren't careful to spot them, your soul could move on into the Afterlife."

Definitely want to avoid that. Emma thought. "Is there a way to speed up this sleep?"

Merlin's infernal knowing grin returned. "You'll learn in due time. Until then, rest and enjoy the Middlemist." 

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

Marian ate only a little of the soup the maid brought up for her and Emily. She told the maid that Emily was just sleeping off her illness, and she hoped she was right. Emily was still breathing, and she was warm. Nothing seemed amiss other than Emily would not wake. 

Marian attempted to wake her for lunch, but the blonde woman didn't react. Not a mumble from her lips, not a flutter of her eyes. 

She worried that Emily might not ever wake up. Colin was convinced that her magic had something to do with this, and he would know better being Emily's husband. Marian wondered if this was common. She wasn't surprised by magic existing, though her memories were gone, so surely magic was commonplace.

Why then did Colin and Emily want to hide Emily's magic? Was magic good to have, or was it dark? Colin and Emily didn't seem like bad people, and Emily's magic seemed so helpful.

Could she really trust these strangers after all? Or was it better to move on, and try to rebuild her life on her own? Her gut said Colin and Emily didn't mean any harm, but they also didn't know her. Should she try and find out who she was? Should she ask them if she mentioned where she was from and why she was moving here?

It was just strange that everything was gone. Even her dreams were hazy images, but nothing indicating her past. 

Marian sighed, pushing away her half eaten soup. She glanced where Emily lay, sleeping peacefully, wishing she could sleep just as well. "Why can't I remember?" She whispered to the silence around her. She looked at her hands. There were callouses, light as they were, so she was used to work off some sort. 

But what work? Did she do cleaning? Was she a barmaid? A seamstress? That was just another thing to figure out. Once Colin returned and she knew Emily was going to be all right, Marian needed to go into town and figure out just what to do next. She couldn't rely on them forever. It was time to figure out what little she could and go from there. 

Starting with a job. 

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

Killian waited outside a boarding house, where he was told the healer currently was checking on a patient. He hoped this Vivienne could help him. He figured someone with magic would be better, but perhaps the healer knew someone who could help with their situation. 

He just wanted Emma to be all right. He couldn't let anything happen to her, not when he promised to get her home. Not when he needed her safe and happy for his own sanity. 

A young woman with black hair exited the building, a basket of herbs, potions, and poultices in hand. 

Killian pushed off the wall of the house across the street and put himself in her path. "Excuse me, Miss?" 

The healer froze at his voice before turning to face him. Oddly, her dark eyes recognized him. 

An uneasy feeling settled over him. Had Emma unintentional glamoured the face of someone from around here? He doubted it. 

The woman glared at him. “How can I help you sir?” Her defensive stance had Killian backing up a bit.

He wasn't sure why she didn't like him, but he wasn't going to chance pissing her off more than she already was, not when he needed her help. “So sorry to bother you.” Killian smiled gently. “My name is Colin Jones. My wife and I recently moved to town.”

Surprise flickered over her expression. Vivienne relaxed a bit, realizing Killian truly didn't seem to remember her. Though she was confused about the wife part. The Savior couldn't be his wife, could she? That was a dangerous match if that was the case. As it was, the Savior needed to work on her glamour spell. It worked well for non-magical people, but if Vivienne could see through it, then so could the Dark One, or others a might more powerful. This close to the sea, it would be better to disguise Lir's son as strongly as possible. "And why am I interested in this information?"

"I heard you're the healer in town. My wife fell ill on our travels." Killian said. "I hoped you'd come look at her. She's not waking up."

His concern for the Savior was genuine. What did he mean by her not waking up? 

Vivienne wanted to tell him no and go back to her rounds, but the Crone wanted her to teach the Savior. It seemed that for the time being Killian and the Savior were a package deal. Vivienne would deal with that later. "Does she have a fever?"

Killian shook his head. "No, she's warm, but not feverish." Killian glanced around and slowly stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. "What do you know about magic?"

"Enough." Vivienne challenged. There was no way she'd give away her hand. Not to him. "Why?"

"Because my wife has magic." Killian spoke lowly as to not be overheard. "I think she used too much of it." He looked at her imploringly. 

Here's where Killian not having his memories hampered him. He'd been one of her father's best students, all the more why Vivienne disliked him, and now he had to come to her for basic magical knowledge. She'd feel smug if she didn't hate him so much. 

Alas, she had to teach the Savior, so she'd have to suffer Jones all over again. "All right, take me to her and I shall see what I can do."

His immense relief was palpable. "Thank you, miss."

"Vivienne." She introduced. "Vivienne Wilder."

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

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

Also on Ao3!

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

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

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

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

 "What?" He asked.

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

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

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

 "I think I can manage."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 She sighed as she eventually started the car.

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spartanguard]

green with envy

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

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

rated T | 5.7k | AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

═══════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

═══════════════

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” Emma gratefully replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait—was that it? 

Was she literally turning green with envy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was going on?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” she chuckled. “Have fun.”

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

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

“Swan? Are you alright, love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I bring you anything, then?”

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

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

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

“I find that very hard to believe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s downstairs with Ruby.”

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

“Beg your pardon?” Killian sounded slightly offended. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think it was her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And goddamn, could he kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So she kissed him again.

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

═══════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

═══════════════

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

[stahlop]

All of Me (loves all of you)

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

Thank you to @xarandomdreamx​ for being my beta

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

Rated: T

Ao3 Link

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

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

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

Right now, she just needed a place to hide.

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

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

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

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

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

—-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” David asked concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—---

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

She’d hurt Henry. 

She’d hurt her father and almost hurt Killian. 

The look on her mother’s face.

How could they want to be around her after that?

How could she act like everything was normal after that?

Maybe Ingrid was right and she was a monster.

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

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

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

“Henry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[saptaincwan]

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

[makwandis]

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

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Sky's Canvas"

This little future Swan-Jones-Mills family fic envisioning them during their happy beginning post-s6 would probably have been well suited to Father's Day last week, but I didn't think of it until too late. I hope it will still be enjoyable this week too. It's a part of my one shot collection on AO3 or ff.net (if you'd prefer to read it either of those places instead) I hope you have fun picturing this alternate idea of what might have happened - and I'd love to hear what you think!

Notes: I toyed with the idea for this one for quite some time. The prompt elements that I have used are: a museum, the phrase “it was just a joke”, and also some small art facts – mostly about the particular museum itself (which is real). I have also put in a CS daughter (my personal head canon imagined one, Morgan Ruth Jones, whom I have written about before), and a college aged Henry. So, this is set somewhere in an alternative post-season 6 reality, where Henry stays in the Land Without Magic to seek his story, and also to be close enough to visit his family often, and for them to return the favor…)

by: @snowbellewells

The bubbly, nonstop chatter of her four-year-old little girl, which has cheerfully been filling Emma Swan’s ears for the past hour and a half, suddenly stills, immediately grabbing her attention and setting off an interior maternal alarm. She turns to seek out Morgan Ruth Jones – her little pirate princess – wondering if her daughter has yet again managed to sneak away from them and find herself in some sort of trouble.

Luckily, Emma doesn’t have to look far before she hears a chortling trill of baby laughter and locates her toddler with the disheveled head of dark, ringlet curls and twinkling, mischievous eyes – an aquamarine mix of her own green gaze and her father’s ocean blue – standing before a huge oil painting of a Spanish galleon rocking precariously on the stormy main and looking up at her father with fixed adoration. “Really, Papa?” Emma hears Morgan chirp, practically bouncing on the balls of her little feet as she tugs anxiously at his hook in eagerness to hear his answer. “Was it a storm that big you sailed ‘Roger’ through when you went to save Henwy in Neverland?!”

Emma is just chuckling wryly at the changes which have transpired in her life to give her a little girl more interested in daring adventures, ancient naval ships, and sword fighting than frilly dresses or dolls and makeup, even as her husband raises his eyes just enough to smirk at her knowingly over Morgan’s head, when another voice, youthful, warm, and settling into its masculine, adult timbre, answers Morgan’s question from over her shoulder, announcing Henry’s arrival to join them. “It was bigger, Pipsqueak,” he confirms jovially, pausing briefly to wrap a wiry arm around his mom in a quick side-hug before continuing to the side of his younger half-sister, kneeling to her level and adding with a gleam in his eye, “A mermaid summoned it to drown them all.”

“Hen-wy!!” Morgan squeals with glee; the painting, and even her papa’s beloved ship, forgotten as she flings herself into her brother’s arms with enough force to nearly bowl him over, causing Henry to chuckle as he catches her close to his chest.

“Hey Munchkin,” he greets affectionately, standing to his full height again – now even with his stepdad’s – still holding Morgan, her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that Emma has to wonder if she’s ever going to let go. Turning to include his mom and his surrogate father in his next statement, Henry adds. “It’s great to see you all. Things must be quiet in Storybrooke, if you’re still going to stay all weekend.”

Here he arcs an eyebrow in curious bemusement, a trait Emma realizes all too well that he has picked up from her dashing scoundrel of a husband and probably uses to equally charming effect on all the girls he meets in his freshman courses at Bowdoin College. It is clear he has settled easily into the small arts school in Brunswick, Maine, just under a two hours’ drive from them, and that the campus atmosphere and freeing anonymity and normalcy he has there must be agreeing with him. Emma wants to snort in disbelieving laughter at his jest, though well aware that he knows better than to ever think his hometown would go completely, boringly normal. Instead, she shakes her head resignedly, merely giving her grown son a playfully long-suffering sigh. “You know how it is,” she shrugs, “never a dull moment. But – if you don’t count the dwarves coming to blows at Granny’s the other morning because Tom Clark accidentally sat in Leroy’s spot at the counter and got his flu germs on Leroy’s plate of bacon and eggs…”

“Which I do count,” Killian interrupts smoothly, winking at his adopted son. “I am the one who risked infection from the virus in forestalling their skirmish.”

Emma rolls her eyes at her deputy husband’s interruption and mutters “drama queen” under her breath, which Henry and Morgan both clearly hear and snicker at before she continues, “Otherwise it’s been as quiet as it ever gets. No deathly dangerous villains or curses meant to tear us apart and wipe our memories blank.”

“Yet…” Killian adds on needlessly, an ominous tone in his voice acknowledging the fact that they all know it’s only a matter of time before some new threat is wreaking havoc again. Their sleepy little town might seem like a place lost in time and space, but it is still a veritable magnet for trouble, and none of them can deny it.

Killian, however, waggles his brows playfully after his foreboding aside, making Henry shake his own head at his stepfather. It had seemed a rather grim pronouncement for the reformed pirate – more like his mom, really.

Morgan grins widely back at her father, nodding in gleeful agreement, her gap-toothed smile showing where she has lost a fair few of her baby teeth recently. “Yeah…yet!” she exclaims, not fully understanding the concern behind the sentiment, but always ready – as is her entire extended family – for action and excitement.

Emma shakes her head in humored exasperation at her two “children” – wondering, as she often does, how someone who has seen and experienced as much as Killian, who has witnessed some of the worst humanity had to offer and suffered at their hands, who has lived so long and weathered such crushing heartbreak and hate, can still easily find such simple, child-like joy in the littlest things. “Really, guys?” she questions, looking to her college student son for more mature support. “Can’t we just enjoy things being normal for once?”

“Aye, of course, my Love,” Killian replies deftly. “ ‘Twas merely a joke,” he adds, leaning over to brush a quick kiss to her brow that makes Morgan giggle, hide her face in Henry’s shoulder, and cry out, “Eww, they’re kissing again!” in a frank, tickling whisper against her older sibling’s skin.

“Just a joke is right,” Henry declares, motioning them forward to venture on into the rest of the Bowdoin College Museum and toward the particular exhibit he wants them to see. The collection was an 1811 bequest from a wealthy benefactor to the school and was one of the earliest college art collections in the country, as Henry had enthusiastically told her over the phone some weeks ago when his project had commenced. His Maritime History class had done a cross-curriculum partnership with the arts department to put together a student exhibit of research and mixed media in the college’s museum, and Henry has been quite secretive about his entry, even if insistent that they needed to see it in person. “Like anyone could be around you lot for long and think you were normal!” he scoffs.

“Ha ha,” his mother laughs drolly, bumping into his side with her shoulder in playful retribution as they move ahead side-by-side, with Killian, who is now holding a wriggling Morgan once again, following closely behind. However, once the jostling ceases, Emma grasps her nearly-grown son’s hand in hers for a moment, stunned anew at how much he has changed from the little boy who had found her in Boston all those years ago, and led her into the very life she has now. Squeezing tightly with emotion welling up in her throat, she wishes he could truly understand how much she loves him.

“Missed you too, Mom,” Henry murmurs softly, pressing her fingers back with his own wrapped around them. It is more than enough and makes her heart flutter in gladness.

Once Henry leads them through a few different rooms and several intriguing displays, he slows when they reach a large, somewhat circular room with a high, arched ceiling, and then turns to them with a mysterious smile on his face and clear anticipation in his big, brown eyes, just as they have always held, even at ten years old.

At first glance, this particular exhibit, this room in itself, seems empty. Looking around with faces equally full of curiosity and confusion, Killian, Emma, and Morgan end up staring back at Henry expectantly until Killian finally speaks up, “Begging your pardon, Lad, but I’m afraid I am not quite certain what you wish for us to see.”

Henry gives a nod of acknowledgement, rather knowingly pleased, and making Emma smirk to herself with a mother’s satisfaction at seeing her son so confidently happy and in his element. ‘He’s definitely got something up his sleeve,’ she thinks affectionately, admittedly finding herself anxious to see what his surprise might be. She knows that Henry has been loving this course all term – not to mention how thrilled her husband had been at the news – and that the long term practicum research projects are being showcased here throughout the entire month of April. Emma can only conclude that her son’s hard work has paid off in a way he’s proud of, and he must believe wholeheartedly that they will be too.

All Henry says is, “I take it you’re ready then?” and at Killian’s nod and Morgan’s “Yes, yes, YES, Henwy!!” exclamation, while she hops up and down exuberantly, he switches off the lights and presses a previously unnoticed button next to the light switch.

Immediately, the light and airy sound of some sort of flute or piccolo trickles through the quiet air of the room, a gently evocative melody with a lingering, haunted quality to its tone, enhanced by the sound echoing beneath of waves washing gently against the hull of some easily floating ship or back and forth over the shore of some deserted bay. Even as the sounds which are familiar and comforting to his tiny family audience wrap around them, small pinpricks of light appear just like stars in the night sky out on the ocean, sparking to life on the walls around them and the high ceiling overhead. It is a constellation spread out just for them in breathtaking majesty. Then, the Author begins to narrate his newest story…

Listening to Henry’s words, Emma feels her breath catch just a bit in both awe and emotion, glancing quickly over at her husband and daughter, before either of them realizes they are being observed. Morgan’s green eyes are wide and sparkling with interest and excitement, her mouth an open “o” as she looks above her, dazzled at what would appear for all the world to be the stars and constellations in the night sky brought indoors and spread out for their entertainment. Killian is silent and still, so much so that Emma knows – as few others would – just how valiantly he is battling some strong emotion…how very touched he is. Emma was never as great a student of the star charts and navigational astronomy as her sailor would have loved to make her, but Henry ate it right up, and she would bet her battered and beloved old VW that Henry has recreated some particular display that holds an extra meaning for he and his stepdad alone.

Shaking herself slightly to bring her focus back to earth and her attention back to the words of Henry’s presentation once more, she hears her son’s voice – soothing, engaging, and reeling her into the adventurous stories behind the scattered specks of light arrayed above them and their meaning and guidance to generations of sailors making their ways on a wide and pathless sea.

“The Cygnus,” Killian mouths silently beside her, appearing genuinely awestruck as he takes his gaze just momentarily from Henry’s representative “sky” to look in the eyes of the young man he has for years now cared for and loved like a son; a sincere gaze of fond understanding passing between them that brings a film of unshed tears to Emma’s vision that she has to rapidly blink away. In fact, soundless though it may be, she catches Killian’s comment only because she is so focused on her husband and his emotional reaction to this gift Henry has given all of them – but her pirate in particular. Emma senses that Killian knows it in this moment and holds tightly to his fingers twined with hers while practically beaming at her son, wondering again how she ever got lucky enough that the two most important people in her world would love each other as much as they each love her.

Morgan reaches over from Killian’s arms to pat her mother’s cheeks as Henry concludes his tale and turns the lights back up. “Don’t cry, Mama,” Morgan coos sweetly. “Henwy’s story was happy in the end. The Swan leads the sailor to his home.”

Emma smiles shakily at her daughter, and then the rest of her family with their looks of understanding. “I know, Baby,” Emma murmurs softly, still brushing away the evidence, but with her smile growing broader all the while. “Don’t worry. These are happy tears.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jrob64 @apiratewhopines

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @branlovestowrite

@linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @let-it-raines @ineffablecolors

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [1/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. "You owe it to yourself," Mary Margaret said. "Happy endings always start with hope."

--

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer for always giving me a cheer when i needed it (including--in B's case--occasionally getting random, context-free paragraphs dumped into her DMs)

--

one. 'when you leave, you just miss it'

The sun was shining.

Almost a week since they’d seen real daylight—maybe more, maybe less.  No one was sure.  Time, like light, did not work properly in Neverland.  That’s what Hook had said, and Neal had agreed, an uneasy peace between them; Regina grumbled and Gold snickered but it had been a week or a lifetime and the sun was shining and she had slept last night, for the first time in a week.

Or a lifetime.

She heard the wind rustling around her through the open portholes.  Tasted the salt on the air, sweet and slightly cool.  Emma sat up and the chill danced around her skin as the sheet fell.  She felt good; rested, refreshed.  Free.

Her clothes were were on the floor where she’d left them.  She slipped from the bunk and picked them up, one by one and hanging from her fingertips. Because time might not have been real in Neverland but everything definitely smelled like she’d been wearing it for a week.  When they got back to Storybrooke she wasn’t just going to wash the clothes.  She was going to burn them.  Just thinking about it made the power well up inside her.  It wasn’t anger or darkness or the unrelenting terror of the Dark Hollow.  It was something else—warm, gentle flames that tickled.

Or maybe she just really needed a shower.

God, a shower.

She dressed quickly and found her way above deck, stumbling over a dozen dozing Lost Boys and one wide-awake former fairy.  Neal and Wendy leaned up against the bulkhead, their legs sprawled out in front of them.  Wendy had curled herself against Neal like she wouldn’t let him go.  

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up.  The sail billowed, but the Shadow cast no shadow here.  Tink turned and spotted her.  The way her eyes lit up made Emma’s breath catch.  They were going home.

“We’re nearly there,” Tink said.  “I almost can’t believe it.  Where’s Hook?”

Emma shrugged.  “I thought he needed to be here.  Steering.”  Behind them, the giant wheel turned on its own.

“Magic,” Tink said.  “The ship, it has magic.  Not my kind—I’ve no idea how it works.”

“And I’ll never tell.”  His hair was mussed by the wind but his coat hung heavy over him.  Weighing him down.  The words were heavy, too, weighted with meaning—something in his eyes before he cleared his throat.  Then Captain Hook inclined his head and it was gone, replaced with twinkles like tiny blue gems in his eyes.  “Tinker Bell.”

“Hook.”  A speculative syllable as the fairy stared intently and he blushed.  Emma looked from one of them to the other until Hook’s eyes caught hers and held.  He raised his eyebrow, just the one.

Emma raised hers.  Both of them.

“Swan,” he said.

“Hook,” she said.

“Mom!”  Henry ran across the deck, leaving Regina behind in the companionway with a genuine smile on her face.  Neal’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of his son’s voice and he scrambled to his feet, catching Henry in his arms but barely slowing him before he angled back toward Emma.  She nearly fell over as she absorbed the fullness of his hug.  Her son’s arms around her, finally.

Six days.  Not even a week.  But her life had changed in less time before:  The time it took to steal a car, to open a locker.  Sixteen hours to give birth.  Ten hours on a beanstalk.

The kiss it took to break a curse.

A week was plenty of time for her world to turn itself upside down.  Again.

“The sun is fully up,” Hook said.  “We’ll be arriving shortly in Storybrooke.”  A fairy-tale land full of fairy-tale people encased in a magic shield that they were going to pierce with a magic boat piloted by a pirate and guided by a demon’s Shadow.  Hook spoke and the ship turned on a dime, the wheel spinning, the Shadow-filled sail briefly flashing white, and there it was.

The harbor.  The clock tower.  The neon sign of the B&B.

“Home,” Mary Margaret whispered, coming to stand next to Emma.

David rested his hand on her arm and Emma tensed.  His smile gentled and he moved, stepping back to pull Mary Margaret closer.  “Together.  Heroes, villains—pirates.”  Pride glowed briefly in his eyes.  “Just like you said.”

Heroes, villains, pirates.  Parents.

Storybrooke.

Home.

The rest of the fairy-tale folk rushed to the rails, hanging over the sides for a closer look at their heroes’ welcome.  A faint sound carried on the breeze—laughter.  Cheers.

They were in the water.  They were in the harbor.  The gangplank lowered.  Henry was practically trembling with excitement as he hurled himself onto the dock, zooming between his father and his grandparents and Granny and—and—and—

But it was Neal Emma was watching.  Hugging his father.  Hugging Belle.  Escorting Wendy.  No longer a Lost Boy but a found one.

“Home.  The place that when you leave, you just miss it.”  He’d told her that the night they’d met.  Her lifetime had been a series of moves from place to place to place and every time, she’d only known one thing for certain:  She wasn’t home.  Not yet.  She’d been seventeen and Neal Cassidy had kneeled in the dirt and picked the lock and when he turned the amusement park lights on and smiled at her, knowing and full of confidence, her entire world had shifted on its axis.

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact.  Or maybe it was a secret he was sharing.  With her.

Home.  Neal wrapped Wendy and her brothers in a group hug with an expression Emma had never seen before.  But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either.  

Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales.  The flame warmed inside her again, as if the idea of wanting—of knowing what she wanted—was its own kind of magic.  Maybe it was.

Possibilities.  Hope.

In her.  In the magic.  In this town.  It wasn’t a home—yet—but for the first time Emma felt like it could be.  If she let it.  If she wanted it.  If she chose it.

Henry turned back to her, waiting.  An impatient gesture.  She took one last long look around the decks of the ship.  Hook stood at the helm, tracing the scratch marks in the wood.

Home.

With a deep breath, Emma stepped onto the dock.

two. 'i quite fancy you'

The realization hit at approximately the same time Emma Swan hit the water, the waves enveloping her and dragging her down, though he didn’t think about it.  Not then.  Not in the midst of the magically-intensified storm and the maelstrom wrought by his own frustrations:  Baelfire’s death, his son missing, the Dark One on his ship and Prince-bloody-Charming up in arms and in Killian’s face, so certain it was he who was the captain here—an uncomfortable thought all on its own, and similarly ignored.

But then she’d hit the water and it was all hands on deck.

Nothing else mattered as they retrieved her from the deep and lowered her to the deck and waited.  Waited for her to breathe, to move, to cough out the water, her body wracked by the effort but alive.  The storm vanished as quickly as it appeared but the weight lingered.

Killian did not like to think about the last time he had seen a woman laid out before him on his ship.  About how it had ended.  So he ignored it.  Ignored it with the patience and practice of a man accustomed to counting time in centuries rather than minutes and it was easy enough.  In Neverland the only thing real was the here and the now; their horrific, indeterminate trek across the island was more than enough to occupy his mind.

Until it wasn’t.

He set himself up a good bit away from the others as they made their camp.  He refused to watch the undisturbed slumber of the Charmings.  Even Regina slept, but not Killian.  Never Killian, never on Neverland.  Whether it was better or worse to be alone and surrounded by the haunted cries of the Lost, Killian did not know.  He’d thought and hoped never to hear them again no matter how unnaturally prolonged his life might be.  But he knew this—it was too easy for Pan to grab on to a person in the netherworld of Neverland at night and it was darker now than Killian remembered it being, unless it was just the effect of the rum. 

He almost wished it was.

Either way, there wasn’t enough of the bloody stuff to soothe the ragged edges of his soul.

He’d said it as a joke.  Or a feint.  An instinctive push in their ongoing tug-of-war.  “I quite fancy you sometimes,” he’d said.  But here in the dark surrounded by the cries he had no choice but to admit to himself that he’d meant it.

Horrific thought.

Idly, he wondered if Tinker Bell was still here.  Their tactics for sleep--and mutual exhaustion--had always proved more then satisfactory in the past.  Pleasurable, even; some of the only good memories Killian had of this place.  Only that felt somehow…disloyal.  A betrayal to an idea that his heart was apparently already committed to.  Killian took another pull from the flask and reminded himself that villains didn’t get happy endings and if Captain Hook had been anything in his life, it was that.  

After all, if he had been a better man, perhaps Baelfire wouldn’t have left.

It was with that happy thought that the cacophony of cries reached its crescendo—midnight, then, or near enough on this cursed island where the night felt endless.  Perhaps it was endless, now.  The days seemed shorter—nonexistent—the darkness constant.  The island was changing.  Dying.  Killian knew only too well there was nothing Pan would not do to prevent that happening.  Every instinct told him that Henry was the answer Pan sought.

Killian had not been lying when he told Emma that on this island, he was not the villain.  Perhaps that was why he waited.  Waited to hear the whisper of movement and the moment she finally gave up.  When she finally got up.  He had never wondered if she might hear the cries.  It had been very nearly his first thought upon meeting her.  She’d had the Look and few knew it better than he.  Maybe Baelfire—Neal—had recognized it, too.

He could hear the muttered imprecations under her breath and was only gratified that she had sense enough to take the cutlass with her as she began to roam the surroundings of their camp.  And then he heard something else.

Not words.  A voice.  A voice that taunted him still, lurking on the edges of his nightmares.  Even worse, he knew what it meant.  To be approached by Pan was to have a quest assigned, a task given.  When Emma stumbled out of the woods clutching a scrap of parchment, he stood to meet her, already on alert.

Pan always did like his games.

three. 'you owe it to yourself'

The shower felt incredible.  One after Granny’s; one before bed; one when she woke up.  Part of her felt like she might never not be covered in dirt and sweat again.  Part of her just wanted the warmth and the solitude.  Even in a loft built for one and sleeping four, the shower was a one-person-at-a-time activity.

She hoped.

Exhausted but too restless to sleep, Emma had lain in her bed and stared at the exposed beams, counting the wood scratches and feeling it every time someone in the apartment breathed.  Henry’s little snores made her smile with every exhalation and though here Mary Margaret and David were only—breathing—it was hard not to think about the other things they could be doing in the bed they shared at the bottom of the ladder.

Ew.

Emma really needed to get her own place.

Henry would want to go back to spending nights at Regina’s again, anyway.  As he should.  She was his mother.

Emma couldn’t help but think of Regina at the Tree.  Regina with ‘no regrets’.  She wasn’t sure if she believed any of it, but she couldn’t argue with the result—all of them, still standing, at the end of something horrible.  Even if Emma thought Regina should have a few regrets—surely some of the murders had been unwarranted—maybe it was time to follow Regina’s example.  Leave the past behind and focus on what she had.

What would it be like, to live with no regrets?

A new beginning.

A steam cloud followed her as she opened the frosted glass sliding door and followed the sweet smell of coffee to the kitchen island—a little pot, in an honest-to-goodness tea cozy, left in the blessedly quiet loft.  Mary Margaret hadn’t done that in—she hadn’t done that since—

Before.

The texts had accumulated on her phone while she showered.  She recognized most, but not all, of the phone numbers—David, Mary Margaret, Henry, Ruby—and remembered suddenly that she didn’t know which one might be Neal’s.  Being presumed dead made that easy enough to excuse.

She was glad he wasn’t dead.

Emma sighed.  Maybe it would have been easier if she’d set a time, or maybe it just would have been funnier:  An hour to process Felix into the cells.  Another at the pawnshop to watch Pan sealed beneath the floor—a tiny box to hold so many nightmares, but both of her parents standing next to her in spite of the dreamshade.  Henry flanked by his mothers, his father, three of his grandparents.

Of course Neal had approached her—exactly down to the minute on the timer she had not set—cornering her at Granny’s.  The beer was flowing, the food was hot, the noise was crushing her skull.  Tick, tock.

“Emma, can we make some time to talk?”

She hadn’t even gotten her coat off, and it was weird to suddenly need it again after six days and a lifetime sweating in an otherworldly jungle.  She saw Hook at the bar with Tink, a glass mug of amber liquid in each of their hands as they toasted.  Mary Margaret and David pushed in behind and around her to head for a table.  Regina and Henry were tucked in together at a booth.  

Tick, tock.

She forced her attention back to Neal.  “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” she said.  “Unless—are you trying to ask me on a date?”

Yes.

Yes, he was and yes, she would make time—because they needed to know what would happen.  Emma had a few ideas and as Mary Margaret always said happy endings start with hope.  It was the look on Mary Margaret’s face as Neal settled himself back into his booth that had her worried.  The big eyes, the bright smile.  It was a look she wasn’t totally used to seeing on her friend’s face because it was such a Snow White look.

“You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret had said.

Tick, tock. 

A motherly look.  She wasn’t used to that yet, either.  Six days or a lifetime hadn’t quite given her enough time to digest the shift from best friend to parent and almost every minute since the curse had broken had been one unrelenting nightmare after another.   Ogres, giants, beanstalks.  Cora.  Hook.  Neal.  It didn’t help that even while Mary Margaret was urging her to take the chance—“You owe it to yourself”—Emma kept thinking about the chances Mary Margaret and David wanted to take.

Tick, tock.

They were home now, the three of them—four—five—six—or maybe eight—one big modern fairytale family—and that mattered, even if Mary Margaret had looked her in the eyes and promised that she wouldn’t be an orphan anymore and then decided that she would stay in Neverland forever if she had to.  The thin leather strap of the waterskin crossed over David’s shoulder didn’t feel like much against that, but it was everything.

The water.  From Hook.  And every time she’d turned Emma had seen Hook watching, his eyes tightening slightly every time David moved.  Like he was waiting for something.  Tick, tock.

Shaking herself, Emma finished her cup of coffee and hauled herself back up the ladder.  The curling iron felt comfortable in her hand; it was a relief to look in the mirror and see someone she recognized, from Before.  Her blue leather jacket because it was warmer, her favorite tank top layered underneath, and she was going to go to Granny’s and have a goddamn normal day.  Whatever that meant now—now that it wasn’t Before, but After.  After the curse.  After the Enchanted Forest.  After Neverland.  

After—everything.  

She wasn’t a tiny princess under a mobile of glass unicorns; none of them knew what to do with a goddamn adult with a past.  A history, a trauma, that was not part of their storybook fantasy, and more than a missed opportunity that they could recreate.  

She refused to just be that.  She was a mother, too.  A sheriff.  A Savior.  

An orphan.

If what they had was unique, to use Mary Margaret’s words from the Echo Cave, then they had to be able to make their own definitions.  Their own rules and wants and needs and hopes.  Their own story.  And what Emma wanted, more than anything, was to carve out her own space in this world—parents, children, magic, exes, and evil queens—and know that it was hers.  That she belonged.  Emma wanted to know that when Henry came for her he wasn’t just looking for her to break a curse.  He was bringing her home.

How did Snow White, of all people, not understand that?

She glanced at her phone, at the time and at the last text message.  Pulled on her shitkicker black boots and closed the door behind her.

She had a date to get to.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

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

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

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

CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

The next morning, Granny’s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Later that afternoon

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

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

What was wrong with her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Ruby!”

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

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

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

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

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

“But the cloud…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock, knock, knock

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

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

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

He swallowed hard.

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

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

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

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

She’s nervous.

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

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

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

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

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Somebody that I used to know

By I_should_be_doing_other_things | Rating: M

This is an angsty fic that switches back and forth between the time Emma and Killian get stuck in the past and the time they come back. In this fic, Killian and Emma spend years stuck in the past and eventually fall in love and get married, but when they come back, it's clear that something went very wrong. Complete with a WIP sequel.

Read it on AO3

Read the sequel

[snowbellewells]

@jrob64 Oh wow! This story just keeps getting better. Season two as a whole - particularly the back half of it - has never been my favorite in canon, but you are really adding a lot to this segment you’re dealing with that makes it much more compelling. For one thing, you’re letting people actually deal with their past actions and their current feelings, and not convoluting it with nonsensical plot twists and extraneous, unneeded characters. Hook telling Neal the truth about his mother’s death, and then Emma telling him they were NOT ever getting back together and why, were enough on their own to make this chapter great, honestly.

Anyway, all that being said, I loved how, at the start of the chapter, Hook’s take on NYC was so realistic and relatable. It would be so much overload for someone from his time and place - it’s a lot even for a modern person not from there! And not all of its hustle, bustle, and modernity would look positive either. I loved though, how he was able to find a calmer spot and then how he was almost able to “sense” Emma. That was beautifully done! 🩷 “When he finally found a large plot of grass and trees, he wandered through it until he spotted a bench in a somewhat quiet area. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and pictured Emma. Ever since he first laid eyes on her from his position underneath a pile of bodies, he felt a connection with her that he really couldn’t explain. It was as if he could tell when she was near, simply by thinking about her. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her.

The longer he sat there, the clearer his mind became. When he was compelled to start walking again, he seemed to have some indication of which way to go. Before long, he was standing outside what appeared to be a residential building. He went into the lobby, but found it empty. Looking around, he discovered a small bench along the wall beside the door and settled down on it to wait.”

There were so many other wonderfully written, really memorable moments in this one!! But I’ll try to highlight at least a few. You wrote Hook catching up to Gold and his speech as he sinks his Dreamshade-laced hook home SO vividly. It was perfect - how he was so close to seeing his son, and how Belle was back in Storybrooke waiting, but that was for Milah and his mission was complete. Really, really effective!! ❤️⚓️❤️

His moment telling Neal the truth was so intense and emotional too. Neal didn’t want to believe him, and yet, he knew his father well enough that he kinda had to. Not only that, but you then balanced the ensuing conversation Neal had with a dying Gold so well too. Though that conversation back in SB between Neal and Gold is one moment of 2b’s canon I do really like, I could easily see it going this way as well. Neal does have so much unresolved anger and trauma with his father and in the end, Gold really would still choose his power, even over his loved ones - as we continued to see in canon when he survived. This allows for so hard truth and realizations to be aired in a way the show never fully did.

And Hook having them lay Gold right there on the spot on the deck where Milah died?!? Talk about poetic justice! He might have been convinced by Emma to let Gold onboard and try to get them back to Storybrooke, but he’s at least going to have to lie there and think about what he did.

I also loved Emma speaking to him about Milah’s loss and his hand. Her understanding just why he has carried this dark mission for so long, and her sympathy for the pain he has suffered was really effecting.

And then, my favorite part came right at the end, where we see just what his new mission, his new reason to keep going will be: “The first time he laid eyes on her, he was struck by her beauty. As he spent more time around her, he admired her fire and determination. Most people who held a knife to his throat would have found themselves on the pointy end of his sword. Then she chained him up in the lair of a giant. Yet he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her.

“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you.”

“…As the Jolly Roger sailed silently toward Storybrooke, Hook contemplated what he would do now that his quest for revenge was finally over. He had no family and no home, other than his ship. He had already sailed to numerous realms and seen almost everything the world had to offer. Nothing held any appeal for him.

Except Emma Swan.”

Wow!! That was just gorgeous!!! I surely can’t wait to see what chapter three will hold now!!!

❤️⚓️❤️⚓️❤️⚓️❤️

Exacting His Revenge - Chapter 2

Welcome to chapter 2 of @kmomof4's birthday story. There will be one more chapter after this, and because the birthday girl has requested smut for that chapter, the story is now rated M. I haven't begun writing the final chapter yet, but hopefully you won't have to wait too long.

Thanks so much to @hookedmom, my wonderful beta and friend.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M

Words (Ch. 2): 6076

Posted on Tumblr - Chap. 1 and also on ffn & Ao3

Story under the cut

Hook had been to many ports in his hundreds of years, but none as crazy and disconcerting as New York City. The people at the harbor seemed especially interested in his ship and he almost decided against leaving it there, but knew time was of the essence.

The city itself was loud, dirty and obnoxiously colorful. Bright lights flashed everywhere around him and huge signs displayed pictures of everything from barely clad women to bottles of whiskey.

People walking past barely paid attention to him, even though he saw no one else dressed, even remotely, like him. However, their attire was vastly diverse and he supposed he really didn’t stand out any more than anyone else.

At first, he was overwhelmed with the tall buildings and massive size of the city and nearly despaired at finding Emma. Taking deep breaths of the stale, putrid air failed to calm him, so he sought a place where he wasn’t surrounded by buildings that seemed to stretch as high as the beanstalk he and Emma climbed.

When he finally found a large plot of grass and trees, he wandered through it until he spotted a bench in a somewhat quiet area. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and pictured Emma. Ever since he first laid eyes on her from his position underneath a pile of bodies, he felt a connection with her that he really couldn’t explain. It was as if he could tell when she was near, simply by thinking about her. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her.

The longer he sat there, the clearer his mind became. When he was compelled to start walking again, he seemed to have some indication of which way to go. Before long, he was standing outside what appeared to be a residential building. He went into the lobby, but found it empty. Looking around, he discovered a small bench along the wall beside the door and settled down on it to wait.

Numerous people came and went while he waited, none of them paying any attention to the leather clad pirate. He was beginning to think his intuition was wrong, when he heard a familiar voice and saw Emma and Rumplestiltskin entering the lobby.

“...still can’t believe you screamed about wanting to be the first one off the plane until you got yourself placed on the ‘no fly’ list, Gold. How are we supposed to get back to Storybrooke now?”

“I can get us back with a mere flick of…”

“We’re in the fucking land without magic!” Emma hissed.

“We’ll worry about the problem of getting back later. Right now, I need to find my son.”

They were so caught up in their conversation, neither of them noticed Hook. As they searched for something on the wall, he bided his time. He hadn’t prepared his hook with the poison yet and he didn’t want to do it while they were standing right in front of him.

“I bet this is it,” Emma said. “It’s the only one without a name. I know from experience that when a person doesn’t want to be found, they won’t put their name beside their apartment number.”

She pushed the button beside the number and waited. There was no response. She was getting ready to press it again when a heavyset woman with her hands full of shopping bags entered the lobby. Rudely pushing past Emma and Gold, she dropped the bags that were in her right hand, dug in the pocket of her gaudily flowered dress and withdrew a key. After unlocking the metal gate, she collected her bags and passed through.

Quickly, Emma stopped the gate from closing and gestured for Gold to go through ahead of her. Hook watched their slow progress up the stairs, waited until they disappeared, then pulled the bottle of poison out of his pocket. Before he had a chance to uncork it, a man entered the lobby. Something about him seemed familiar to Hook and he studied the man as he unlocked the gate, entered, then hurried up the steps.

Hook was so busy trying to place the man, he forgot to get his hook ready to attack Rumplestiltskin. He was further distracted by feet pounding down the stairs. The man who had just gone upstairs plunged back down them, burst through the gate and took off out the door.

“Go get him, Miss Swan!” Hook heard Rumplestiltskin shouting. “I can’t run, so you have to catch him. Get him to come back here and talk to me!”

As Emma flew past Hook, red scarf trailing behind her, he realized why the man she was chasing looked familiar. It was Baelfire!

Thinking quickly, Hook dashed across the lobby and caught the gate with his hook before it slammed shut. He knew he didn’t have much time if Rumplestiltskin was on his way downstairs, but after listening carefully for several seconds, he was able to determine the crocodile wasn’t following Emma.

As he uncorked the poison, he grinned at the irony. The day Rumplestiltskin found his son again was the day he was finally going to die. After dousing his hook with the deadly poison, he stuffed the empty bottle back into his pocket. Then he began creeping up the stairs, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of the vile imp.

When he reached the second floor, he moved down the hallway, listening at each door along the way. Behind some, he heard music or conversation, while others were completely silent. He knew the man he sought could be in any of those apartments, but Hook had a feeling he wasn’t.

Continuing on to the next floor, he immediately noticed an open door at the far end of the hallway. Sucking in a breath, he started in that direction, pondering if he could possibly be lucky enough for that to be the right place.

Once he reached the doorway, he peeked around the open door and saw Rumplestiltskin leaning out the window, looking down at the street below. Hook swiftly covered the space between them, grabbing the other man’s arm and spinning him around.

“Tick tock, Crocodile,” he growled, then sunk the tip of his hook into Rumplestiltskin’s chest.

Gold let out a choked cry, dropping his cane to clutch at the metal appendage. “You…you cannot kill the Dark One,” he gasped.

“Ah, but dreamshade straight to the heart can,” Hook leered. As Gold’s eyes widened and filled with fear, Hook continued, “Now, as you die, you can think about how very close you came to seeing your son again. The one you abandoned because you chose power instead. And you can think of Belle, back in Storybrooke, waiting for you to come home. I told you all demons could be killed and it looks like I did indeed find a way.”

Yanking the hook out of his victim, Hook gave him a slight push and watched with satisfaction as he slumped to the floor. “Milah’s death is finally avenged. I’m sated, replete. My life’s purpose is met,” he said savagely, his face mere inches from Rumplestiltskin’s.

Then he straightened up, turned, and triumphantly walked out the door.

*********

It took Hook longer than expected to make it back to his ship. When he finally did, he was appalled to find that he owed docking fees and they wouldn’t take doubloons as payment. By the time he worked out a deal with the harbormaster to send the money once he got home (which he had no intention of doing) the sun was beginning to set.

He readied the ship to sail, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that he may never see the lovely and fiery Emma Swan again. Just as he was set to instruct the dock workers to untie the ropes, he glanced across the bow of the ship and his mouth dropped open in shock.

He could see Emma and Baelfire were approaching the Jolly Roger. They were half carrying, half dragging Rumplestiltskin between them. As they started up the gangplank, Hook moved to block the opening in the ship’s railing. “Where do you think you’re going?” he boomed.

Emma and Bae looked up at him in surprise. “Hook? You’re here?” she asked.

“Where did you expect me to be? This is my ship after all. How did you know it was going to be here?”

“We took a chance,” Baelfire answered. “My father said it was you who stabbed him. We figured you sailed to New York and hoped you hadn’t left yet.”

“When we saw the ship, we thought you may have gotten lost on your way back here or something,” Emma said. “Neal said he could sail the ship back to Storybrooke, but now that you’re here, you can do it.”

Hook widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “The bloody crocodile isn’t coming aboard my ship.”

“Hook, please,” Emma begged. “He says he has a cure for dreamshade in his shop…”

“Why would I want him to be cured?” Hook interrupted. “I intended to kill him. I’m not going to do anything that will help him survive.”

“You owe me, Hook,” Baelfire snarled. “You already took my mother from me and now you’re trying to take my father, too.”

“And my son’s grandfather,” Emma added.

“Your son’s…How?” Hook asked, but as soon as he did, the pieces clicked into place. “Wait, you mean the two of you…?” He gestured between Baelfire and Emma.

“Can we discuss this aboard the ship?” Emma asked, hoisting Gold’s limp form up a little higher. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Hook remained slackjawed for another few moments, before his countenance darkened once again. “I told you I’m refusing his admittance onto my ship.”

Emma gave Baelfire a meaningful look, then disentangled herself from Gold, leaving his son to keep him upright. She hurried up the ramp to stand in front of Hook.

“Look, I know you hate the guy and I don’t blame you, but Henry has the right to know Gold is his grandfather. Plus, Neal is Henry’s father and he deserves a chance to meet him.”

“Neal?” Hook questioned.

“That’s how I knew him, not as Baelfire. He took a more modern name in the land without magic.”

“How did the two of you…”

“I’ll explain everything to you later, but first we need to get back to Storybrooke. Personally, I don’t care if Gold lives or dies, but since it turns out he’s Henry’s grandfather, I’ve got to do all I can to try to help him survive.”

Hook’s jaw ticked furiously, but before he could protest again, Emma stepped closer. Looking deeply into his eyes, she pleaded, “Please, Hook. Do it for me?”

Hook narrowed his eyes and stared at her for several long moments. “What’s in it for me?” he finally asked.

Emma sighed heavily. “Can’t you just do it out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m a pirate, Love. I have no goodness in my heart.”

“I don’t believe that, Hook. You helped me and Mary Margaret get back to Storybrooke and you can’t convince me it was only because you wanted to get your revenge.”

“Emma! Hurry up!” Baelfire called.

She turned to look at him, then turned back to Hook. “If you get us back to Storybrooke, I’ll…I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re a hero.”

Hook blinked in disbelief. “A hero?”

“Yeah. Like I said, you brought the rightful queen back to her people.”

“I also shot the town librarian.”

“True, but if Gold dies, they’ll be able to overlook that. Everyone in town hates him.”

“I’m bringing him aboard, Hook!” Bae yelled, his voice strained from holding his father up.

“Please, Hook,” Emma begged again.

He reached out and captured a lock of her hair between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll allow him aboard on one condition.” Emma raised a brow, silently encouraging him to continue. “You join me for dinner on the Jolly Roger once we’re back.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re asking me to bring my worst enemy onto my beloved ship and sail him to Storybrooke in an effort to save his life - the life I’ve been trying to take for hundreds of years. One dinner with me isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

Emma glanced between him and the men on the dock. Then she seemed to deflate a bit. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

Hook watched her walk back down the gangplank and help Baelfire maneuver Rumplestiltskin up to the ship, swallowing down his malice with every step they took. When they got the injured man aboard and began making their way to the hatch which led down to the living quarters, Hook quickly stepped in front of them.

“I may have been forced to allow him on my ship, but he will not be given the luxury of being in my quarters, or even those of my crew,” he growled menacingly.

“Where are we supposed to put him then?” Emma asked, breathing hard from the exertion of hauling the man around.

Hook walked over to the starboard side of the ship. “There,” he said, pointing to a specific place on the wooden deck.

Giving him a quizzical look, Emma helped Neal lower Gold down to the designated area. While they helped the man get as comfortable as possible, Hook went about sailing the ship out of port.

Once they were out on the open sea, Emma climbed the steps to where Hook was standing behind the wheel. “Is there any way you can make this ship go faster? If we don’t get back to Storybrooke very soon, it’s going to be too late.”

“Our speed is dependent on the wind. I can’t control that.”

Emma looked thoughtful. “I wonder if I could.”

Hook narrowed his eyes. “Are you thinking of using your magic?”

“You have magic, Ems?” Baelfire asked incredulously, taking them both by surprise. Neither had heard him approaching.

Emma sighed and turned toward him. “Yeah, it seems the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming somehow has the ability of performing magic.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“When the evil queen’s mother tried to pull my heart out of my chest to crush it, she couldn’t. Apparently it was because I have magic inside me.”

Neal laughed humorlessly. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook moved to stand beside Emma. “It’s true. I saw it myself.”

The other man crossed his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t mean Emma has magic. Maybe it just means pulling a person’s heart out isn’t possible.”

“It bloody well is possible,” Hook growled. “I watched your father do it to…” He stopped short, suddenly realizing what he was about to say.

“To who, Hook?” Baelfire challenged.

Hook set his jaw, determined to set the record straight at last. “To your mother. That’s how she died. Your father” he spat, pointing to the man writhing in pain on the lower deck, “reached into her chest, pulled out her heart and crushed it right in front of me. She died in that very spot. That’s why I had you lay him there, to remind him of the horribly despicable act he committed.”

“You’re lying,” Baelfire said through clenched teeth. “He told me pirates killed her.”

“That’s the thing about the Dark One,” Hook shot back. “Dark One lies. Dark One tricks. The truth is, Milah and I loved each other and she was miserable with him, so she ran off with me. He couldn’t stand the fact that she left him, so he killed her.”

Baelfire’s face lost all color. “Is that true?”

Hook’s eyes softened, seeing the boy he once took care of within the man. “Aye, and I’ve been seeking my revenge ever since. I tried to tell you when you were a lad…”

“But you can’t deny that you took her away from me,” Baelfire accused.

Hook dropped his head and swallowed. “Not a day went by that she didn’t miss you and talk about you. We always planned to go back to get you when you were a bit older and better able to live aboard the ship, but she..she was killed before we could do it.”

The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Emma looked between them, then cleared her throat. “Do you, uh…do you want me to try using magic…”

“No!” Neal shouted, making her jump. “Look, I don’t know if you have magic or not, but even if you do, I don’t want you to use it.”

Emma gaped at him. “But your father may die!”

“Let him die. He’s destroyed countless lives and killed so many people. Now it’s his turn. You reap what you sow,” Bae said bitterly, then he turned and walked to the port side of the ship, completely ignoring his father’s weak pleas.

Emma turned to look at Hook. “I, um…I understand now.”

“Understand what, Love?”

“Why you sought revenge against Gold for so long. Is that what Cora intended to do to me? Tear out my heart and crush it?”

“If I remember correctly,” Hook said, sauntering toward her, “she meant to rip out your mother’s heart to present it to Regina. You simply got in her way.”

Emma mulled that over for a few moments. Finally, she looked up at him, sincere sympathy shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry about Milah, Hook. That must have been very painful to watch.”

He sighed. “Aye, it was. Even the pain from him cutting off my hand didn’t hurt as badly as seeing the light go out of her eyes as life left her body.”

Her head snapped up. “He…he cut off your hand after he killed her?”

Hook nodded grimly, subconsciously rubbing his hand over the curve of his hook.

“That explains why you call him ‘crocodile’.”

His brow raised in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like in the book Peter Pan, when Pan cuts off Captain Hook’s hand and feeds it to the crocodile.”

“That book is a work of fiction. Pan is a demon, but he had nothing to do with me losing my hand. However, I am intrigued that my fame is so widespread that I’ve been written as a character in a novel.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So why do you call Gold the crocodile, then?”

“When he’s in his true form as the Dark One, his skin is scaly and greenish-gray, like the cold-blooded reptile he is.”

She hummed in understanding, then turned her eyes to the deck. Neal was leaning on the ship’s railing, his back turned toward his father. His jaw was clenched tightly and that, combined with the way he agitatedly rubbed his hands together, clearly conveyed his anger.

On the other side of the ship, Gold lay on his side, one hand clutching the wound in his chest, while the other stretched toward Baelfire futilely. Emma could see his lips moving, mouthing the words, “Please, Bae” over and over.

With a quick glance at Hook, Emma went down the steps and over to Neal. Hook didn’t follow, but couldn’t help himself from listening to the conversation. Years of being on the sea allowed him the knowledge that sound carried on the water and most private conversations were anything but private.

“Don’t you think you should go over and talk to him?” Emma asked. “If you don’t and he dies, you’ll probably regret it for the rest of your life.”

Baelfire shrugged indifferently. “I haven’t talked to him for years and I don’t regret it. I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing him again and I wouldn’t regret it.”

“You can’t know that for sure…”

He whirled around, his face contorted in anger. “He fucking killed my mother, Emma! Then he lied about what happened to her and went on living his pathetic life as the fucking Dark One! He chose being the Dark One over being a father to me! I owe him nothing!”

Hook felt a twinge of jealousy as Emma laid her hand on Bae’s shoulder. “This is your last chance, Neal. Ask him why he made those decisions. The man is dying. He may be ready to confess and cleanse his conscience.”

“He wouldn’t be able to cleanse his conscience if he had an eternity,” Baelfire spat.

“Then at least tell him how you feel. Make him understand how much he hurt you. I…I did that with my mom and it helped me deal with my feelings of abandonment.”

Bae glanced over to where his father lay in agony. Hook could tell he was contemplating what Emma said. Finally, he blew out a long breath, gave her a grim smile and patted her hand where it still rested on his shoulder. Then he slowly crossed the deck and lowered himself to sit beside Rumplestiltskin.

After following his movements, Hook looked back at Emma. She was standing with her arms crossed, watching the scene unfolding on the other side of the ship. She must have felt his gaze on her, because her eyes shifted to him for a brief moment, before flicking back. Hook reluctantly turned his attention to the two men.

Father and son sat without speaking for several tense moments. When Baelfire finally broke the silence, it was through gritted teeth. “I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to do something you rarely do and tell the truth. Agreed?”

“Bae…”

“Agreed?” Baelfire asked again, barely containing his rage.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Yes, son.”

“How did my mother die? Did you kill her?”

“You have to understand…”

“Did. You. Kill. Her?” Baelfire bit out.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Baelfire clenched his hands into fists. “By tearing out her heart and crushing it?”

“Yes, but she…”

“Save it! Nothing she did was bad enough for her to deserve that kind of death.” Bae pushed himself to his feet and paced back and forth beside his prone father. “Did you kill her before or after you refused to follow me through the portal?”

“After. I was…” He sucked in a sharp breath and clutched at his chest, a wave of pain obviously passing through him. Hook couldn’t help but feel a macabre sense of satisfaction over being the one responsible for the crocodile’s suffering. “I was trying to obtain a magic bean…in an effort to find you. I knew she had one.”

“You planned to find me?”

“Yes. I…I’ve been trying to find you ever since you left.”

“Since I left?” Bae exploded. “You mean since you let me go!”

Rumplestiltskin stretched out a bloodied hand. “Please, son. All I wanted all these years was to be reunited with you. You have to believe me.”

Bae suddenly slammed a fist down on the railing. “How can I believe you? You’re the Dark One! All you do is lie! If you truly wanted to be with me, why didn’t you come through the portal with me in the first place?”

“I was afraid…”

“Afraid of what? Losing your power? Not having magic? What could make you so fearful that you couldn’t even stay with your only son?”

“Bae, I…I wanted to give you everything…”

“I didn’t need everything! I just needed you, Papa!”

“Please…forgive me,” Rumplestiltskin managed to say between labored breaths.

Baelfire studied him for several seconds. “I…I don’t think I can. My whole life has been tainted because of your terrible choices.”

“Bae…please…”

Squatting down beside him, Baelfire looked into his father’s pain-filled eyes. “Let me ask you something. If you could do it all over again, would you still have become the Dark One, or would you have stayed with me, even if it meant being known as the town coward?”

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to answer, but seemed to reconsider. When he finally spoke, he said, “I wanted to protect you…and I couldn’t do that…unless people feared me…”

Bae stood up. “That’s all the answer I need. You’ll always choose power over me or anyone else. Now, you’re going to die alone, just like you left me.” With those words, he walked away from his father.

Hook watched Baelfire move to the bow of the ship, then shifted his eyes to the pathetic, sniveling form of the Dark One. He expected to feel nothing but glee over the heartbreak and demise of his nemesis, but to his surprise, he felt a tiny pang of sympathy for him. Hook himself knew what it was like to have Baelfire turn his back on him and walk away.

“Do you think I should talk to him?” Emma asked quietly.

“Baelfire or the crocodile?”

“Bael, um, Neal. Maybe I should try to convince him to give his father another chance. He is dying, after all. It’s the last chance he has to forgive him.”

Hook speared her with an intense look. “He doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“I know he’s the Dark One and has done some horrible things, but…”

“That’s correct, and you just heard him tell Bae that, given the chance, he wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Still…”

“Look, Swan, if you feel sorry for the bloody crocodile, perhaps you should be the one to comfort him in his dying moments. Bae made his choice, and the underworld will freeze over before I give him any sympathy.”

“I understand, but it just seems really sad for him to die all alone on the deck…”

“In the same spot where my Milah died?” Hook growled. “I consider it poetic justice.”

Emma looked back at Gold and chewed her bottom lip. Then, after a quick glance at Hook, she made her way down the steps. Hook watched her go, jaw ticking in agitation.

She knelt down beside the dying man and murmured something Hook couldn’t quite hear. At the groaning acknowledgement of the man, Emma continued in a louder voice. “If we don’t make it back to Storybrooke in time, do you, um, is there anything you want me to tell Belle?”

“Tell her…I wish…I could have…seen her…one last time.”

“Anything else?”

“Thank her…for loving…a beast…like me.”

Emma nodded. Hook could see Rumplestiltskin’s chest rising and falling more shallowly with each breath and knew the end was very near.

“You…and Bae…” Rumplestiltskin gasped. “Do the…two of you…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “If you’re asking if I love him, the answer is no.” Hearing those words, Hook couldn’t help breathing a small sigh of relief.

“But Henry…”

“Today was the first time Neal heard about Henry. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he, um, the last time I saw him.”

The two fell silent and Hook wondered if the crocodile had spoken his final words. Just as he was convinced he had, he heard the man mutter, “Tell…Bae…I’m sorry.”

Before Emma could respond, Rumplestiltskin emitted a rattling breath and went completely still. Emma put two fingers on his throat to feel for a pulse. After a few moments, she announced, “He’s gone.”

At her words, Bae turned and made his way back to his father’s side.

“He told me to tell you he was sorry,” Emma said. “Those were his last words.”

Baelfire shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too little, too late. He had the opportunity to tell me himself, but he didn’t.”

As the two of them stood looking down at him, a swirl of black smoke began rising from his body, causing both of them to jump back.

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked.

“It appears to be the darkness leaving its host,” Hook explained, ambling over to stand beside her.

Her eyes widened. “It…it’s not going to attach itself to one of us, is it?”

They warily watched the haze floating in the air, ducking when it got close to them. After hovering for a while, it drifted away and dissipated.

“Where did it go?” Emma asked. “Is it going in search of the next Dark One?”

“There won’t be another Dark One,” Hook said.

“How could you possibly know that?” Baelfire snapped.

Hook looked at him pointedly. “How is the power passed on?”

“By killing the Dark One with the dagger,” Emma answered.

“Aye, and since the crocodile wasn’t killed with the dagger, the darkness has no one to whom it can attach itself.”

“So it’s just…gone?” Emma inquired skeptically.

“It would appear to be.”

Bae’s eyes shifted from where the darkness disappeared, down to his father’s lifeless form. Squatting down, he brushed some strands of hair away from his forehead. Emma hesitantly reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Neal.”

“He wasn’t always a bad father, you know. When I was a little boy, he was the best Papa. But then, the darkness and his thirst for power took over and he…” He hung his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other remained on his father’s forehead. Suddenly, he shouted, “Damn you, Papa! Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why did you have to become the fucking Dark One? Why?”

As sobs wracked his body, Hook and Emma exchanged helpless looks, unsure of what to say or do.

“Bae,” Hook began.

Baelfire jumped to his feet, face contorted in pain and anger. Jabbing a finger into Hook’s chest, he screamed, “NO! Do not say anything! You took both of my parents from me and I hate you!”

“Calm down, Neal,” Emma said.

Neal turned and unleashed his wrath at her. “Are you taking his side? He’s nothing but a selfish, filthy pirate, Ems!”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, but just a few minutes ago, you made it sound like you couldn’t care less that your father died.”

“That doesn’t take away from the fact that he killed him!” he raged, poking Hook again.

Hook didn’t respond. He understood that Bae had anger he needed to work out. If Hook was the recipient of that anger, he would accept it, as long as he didn’t direct it toward Emma.

“Look,” Emma said forcefully, “we’re gonna have to be on this ship together for quite a while yet, so just try to stay away from each other, alright?”

“Aye, Love,” Hook said. “I think we can do that.”

Baelfire took a step away from Hook and eyed him critically. “Where do you get off calling her ‘love’? Is there something going on between you two?”

“No!” Emma replied quickly. At the same time, Hook poked his tongue into his cheek, before answering, “Perhaps.”

Bae looked from one to the other, eyes squinted and mouth set in a hard line. “Stay away from her, Hook.” Grabbing Emma’s arm, he said, “Come on, Ems. Let’s go below deck.” Before she could respond, he started toward the hatch, yanking forcefully on her arm.

She planted her feet and tried unsuccessfully to pull out of his grip. “I don’t want to, Neal. I’m going to stay up here.”

“With him? You can’t do that. He’s…”

Emma jerked her arm free and glared at him. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Neal! I’m no longer a teenage girl that you can manipulate. I may have helped you with your father, but don’t get the idea that I have feelings for you any more or that we have any chance of getting back together. I’m older and much, much wiser now.”

Hook watched Baelfire’s expression change from anger to confusion. “But you said we have a son…”

“We do, but that doesn’t mean that we’re going to be a family! You set me up for your stupid crime then abandoned me, so I had him while I was in jail and had to give him up for adoption. He managed to find me last year and talked me into going to Storybrooke, the cursed town created by Regina, who is the Evil Queen and his adoptive mother.”

Hook’s brows raised. That bit of information was news to him.

“You let the Evil Queen adopt my son?” Bae shouted.

Emma’s expression became furious. “Let her? I didn’t let her do anything! I didn’t know who was adopting my baby! I had no idea a fairytale world even existed where I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming…”

“For real?” Bae interrupted. “They really are your parents?”

“Yeah, which makes them Henry’s grandparents along with Rumplestiltskin, and his step-great grandmother, the Evil Queen, is also his adoptive mother. If you tell me you’re actually the big, bad wolf - which would be very easy for me to believe, by the way - his family tree will be complete.”

Hook couldn’t help but smirk at her statement, but sobered the next moment when he realized that Milah was also the boy’s grandmother.

“I already told you why I had to leave you, Ems,” Neal said, his tone almost pleading.

“Oh, that’s right. Pinocchio told you he knew who you were, so rather than face your father, you decided to let me take the fall. It seems being a coward is a hereditary thing.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know what it was like having the Dark One as my father. I was forced to make that choice…”

Emma took an aggressive step forward, her finger pointed in Baelfire’s face. “You told me you loved me! We could have had a good life together with our son!”

“We still can, now that the curse is broken and my father is gone.”

Emma turned her back, folding her arms over her chest. “It’s too late, Neal. I don’t love you any more. Maybe it would be better if Hook turned the ship around and took you back to New York.”

“I want to meet my son and bury my father. Besides, I would never let you sail back to Storybrooke all by yourself with that pirate.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I just flew to New York with the Dark One. I think I could handle Hook.”

Hook pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at her words. She had proven more than once that his assessment of her being a tough lass was accurate.

“Emma…” Bae began.

She whirled around to face him again. “Look, Neal. Just because we’re on this ship together until we get to Storybrooke doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ve said all I want to say. Now, I’m gonna go over there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the ship, “and you can go…wherever you want to go, as long as it’s nowhere near me.” With that, she stomped away.

Hook turned and climbed the steps up to the helm. Standing behind the ship’s wheel, he watched Bae find a piece of canvas to lay over his father’s body. Then he sat down on the deck beside it and unabashedly stared at Emma, who was standing with her back to him, gazing out at the waves.

Hook’s eyes were also drawn to the blonde spitfire, her hair whipping in the wind. He could tell she was still angry by the way she stood stiff and straight. Knowing she couldn’t see him, he continued to observe her openly.

The first time he laid eyes on her, he was struck by her beauty. As he spent more time around her, he admired her fire and determination. Most people who held a knife to his throat would have found themselves on the pointy end of his sword. Then she chained him up in the lair of a giant. Yet he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her.

“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you.”

He had plenty of time to think about that statement after she left him there. It gave him a strange feeling of hope that perhaps she thought of him as more than just a thieving, murderous pirate. Perhaps it was possible for her to see the good and honorable man still underneath all of his leather and bravado.

As the Jolly Roger sailed silently toward Storybrooke, Hook contemplated what he would do now that his quest for revenge was finally over. He had no family and no home, other than his ship. He had already sailed to numerous realms and seen almost everything the world had to offer. Nothing held any appeal for him.

Except Emma Swan.

That’s the moment he made the decision to stay in Storybrooke and try to win her heart.

*********

Thanks for reading!

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones