#cs canon divergent

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge

- Chapter 3

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. To reward you for your patience, I will give you another chapter after this one, for a total of 4. (You would have gotten it anyway because I am apparently just too wordy)

Happy birthday again to @kmomof4 and thank you again to @hookedmom for betaing this story.

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 (for eventual smut in chapter 4)

Words (Ch. 3): 6666

Posted on Tumlr - Chap. 1 Chap. 2 and also on ffn and Ao3

Story found under the cut

*********

As the ship got closer to Storybrooke, Hook noticed Emma frequently glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. When the lights of the town appeared on the horizon, he saw her draw in a deep breath, turn, and walk toward the steps leading to the helm. Slowly climbing them, she looked up and met his gaze.

“Is there something I can help you with, Love?” he asked.

“I was just wondering…what do you plan to do, now that you killed Gold?”

He chuckled lowly. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

“Technically, you’re still under arrest. Now we’ll have to add escaping from jail to your charges.”

Hook reached up and scratched behind his ear. “Probably another assault charge, too.”

She widened her stance and crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“I may have knocked your father unconscious with a pry bar.”

Rubbing her forehead in irritation, Emma sighed, “You’re a walking menace, you know that?”

“I couldn’t just sit in that concrete brig, while you were off by yourself with the bloody Dark One.”

Her eyes shot up. “You broke out of jail because you thought you had to save me?”

He dipped his head in a slight nod. “Aye.”

“Why?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“I knew what the crocodile was capable of doing. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Even though he needed you to help him navigate his way to his son, you were disposable once you found him.”

“You think he would have killed me? Knowing I had a son waiting for me back in Storybrooke?”

“He killed Milah knowing she had a son. Why would you be any different?” He watched her mull over her question. When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you think Baelfire will stay in Storybrooke?”

She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know.”

“Do you wish for him to stay?”

“I don’t, but if Henry does, I guess I’ll have to accept it. First, I have to figure out a way to tell Henry about him, though.”

“You haven’t told him about his father?”

Her face scrunched into a grimace, something that Hook found to be quite adorable. “I sort of lied to him about Neal. I told him his dad was a firefighter who died saving people from a burning building.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I would ever see Neal again. And also because I didn’t want my kid to know his father was a lying thief who abandoned me.”

Hook glanced at Bae, still sitting beside his father’s body. He was glowering at them and Hook wondered if he had heard what Emma said, or was simply angry seeing Emma talking to him.

“The lad seems to be quite adaptable. I’m sure once he hears the whole story, he’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” Emma sighed. “The thing is, it’s already complicated enough trying to juggle his time between me and Regina. If Neal is added to the mix, I’ll get to see Henry even less.”

“He does have a right to see the boy, though, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It’s not like Neal abandoned him, too. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he took off.”

“You don’t think that the two of you, for the boy’s sake…”

“Not a chance!” Emma snapped. “Look, a lot has changed since Neal and I were together. I’ve matured and I’m assuming he has, too. But the only feelings I have for him are…well, they aren’t anything close to love, let’s put it that way.”

Hook nodded, trying to keep the happiness he felt about her declaration from showing on his face.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said. “I guess I just needed to blow off some steam, and you happened to be available.”

“I’m very happy to oblige, Swan,” Hook assured her.

Emma shifted her gaze forward and saw they were rapidly approaching Storybrooke. “If you want to sail away once we get Gold’s body off the ship, I won’t stop you,” she said conspiratorially.

“Why, Sheriff, do you intend to set your prisoner free?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I’m just saying that since you don’t have any reason to stay in Storybrooke…”

“Ah, but I do have a reason, Love.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You do?”

“You promised to join me for dinner, remember?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me you would give up your chance at freedom just to keep our deal?”

“A gentleman keeps his word, and as I told you atop the beanstalk, I’m always a gentleman.”

“You know I’ll have to lock you up as soon as you step foot off this ship.”

“And you know I won’t stay in that cell.”

“Seriously?”

“Pirate,” he said smugly.

“Are you going to dock the ship, Hook, or are you two going to keep making eyes at each other and let it crash into the pier?” Baelfire asked, his tone venomous.

“We don’t make eyes,” Emma said, rolling hers.

“Coulda fooled me,” he grumbled.

Hook began giving directions to the two of them, as he guided the ship into a berth. Emma was quick to follow, but Bae purposely lagged, earning him some sharp words from the captain.

Once the ship was tied off, Emma pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my dad. Hopefully, he can arrange transportation for Gold’s body as quietly as possible. I don’t want Belle to find out about his death until I get a chance to tell her.”

Hook and Bae stood on either side of her as she spoke to her father. When she ended the call, she looked from one to the other. “Are you going with me to talk to Belle?” she asked Neal.

“I thought you were going to take me to meet our son.”

“Not tonight. It’s late and he’ll be in bed.”

“But I…”

Emma angrily planted her hands on her hips. “Neal, if you want to meet him, you’re playing by my rules, got it?”

He stared at her for a few moments before dropping his eyes. “Fine. I’ll come with you to talk to Belle and wait until tomorrow to meet Henry.”

Pivoting to face Hook, she said, “You can stay on your ship tonight. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’ll deal with you then.”

“I look forward to it, Love,” he smirked.

If the look Baelfire gave him could kill, there would have been another body joining Gold’s on the deck.

*********

Hook lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his cabin and replaying the events of the day. It should have been the most satisfying day in his long life. Milah’s murderer was finally dead and the darkness was permanently dispelled. Milah was avenged, her soul could rest. For the first time in hundreds of years, he should be able to sleep peacefully.

Then why was he so restless?

Oddly enough, the stabbing of Rumplestiltskin and his subsequent death weren’t foremost in his thoughts. It was his interactions with Emma Swan - every word, gesture and facial expression - which were keeping him awake. She was under his skin and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He felt guilty about the direction of his thoughts. Ever since that most horrible of days, he mourned his Milah and promised anew that he would love her until the day he finally died. Sometimes he sought female companionship, but it was only ever for a single night, never with the same woman twice, and never on his ship. He didn’t want to besmirch the love he and Milah had for one another by bringing another into their bed. Now, he was lying here, his mind filled with images of a lass whom he longed to know better and whose heart he had decided to win.

“I’m sorry, Milah,” he whispered into the darkness.

Knowing sleep was going to continue to elude him, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Grabbing his flask off of the nightstand, he took a healthy swig and savored the familiar burn down his throat. Then he got up and lit the lantern on his desk. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well read.

He gave up after ten minutes. Sighing, he slammed the book closed, then donned his leather duster and ascended the ladder. He walked the decks of the Jolly Roger, rubbing non-existent smudges from her highly polished railings, double checking that her sails were folded correctly, and trying to convince himself that she was the only love he needed in his life.

The problem was, his heart wasn’t listening to logic.

Sleep didn’t come until an hour before daybreak. Thankfully, he didn’t enter REM sleep, so he wasn’t able to determine which woman would appear to him in his dreams.

*********

It was almost noon when Emma made it back to his ship. “Still here, I see,” she called up to him from where she stood on the pier.

“I assured you I wasn’t going to leave.”

She eyed him critically. “Are you alright? You look like hell.”

“Why, thank you very much, Swan. How kind of you to notice.”

“I thought you would be the happiest person on Earth, now that you’ve finally gotten your revenge.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps the day was too stimulating to allow me to sleep well.” Seeing her about to speak again, he cut in. “Where is Baelfire this morning?”

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. “I already regret bringing him here. He’s driving me crazy, asking to meet Henry.”

“You haven’t introduced the two of them yet, I take it?”

“No. Henry was at Regina’s last night and was off to school before I woke up this morning. Neal thinks I should pull him out of school. I keep telling him I want the chance to talk to Henry first, but he’s really pushing it. I managed to sneak away from him while he and Belle were making arrangements to bury Gold.”

While she was talking, Hook was making his way down the gangplank to stand in front of her. “I have no doubt you will stand your ground against him, Love.”

“I know. It’s just…things were good between me and Henry since Mary Margaret and I got back to Storybrooke. Now I have to tell him I lied to him and I’m afraid he’s going to hate me.”

Hook’s mind flashed to Baelfire’s reaction when he discovered the drawing of Milah in the captain’s quarters. His words were full of hatred and betrayal. To this day, he hadn’t forgiven him. Hook certainly hoped Henry wouldn’t react the same way.

Hoping to divert Emma’s worries, he asked, “How did Belle take the news last night?”

“Just as you would expect; she’s devastated. She was relieved to know that Gold found his son before he died. We didn’t tell her Neal was furious with his father for killing his mother and refused to forgive him. I’m assuming Belle didn’t know Gold’s role in Milah’s death.”

“Do you think if she did, she would have ever become involved with the bloody demon?”

“No, probably not. Belle tries to find the best in everyone, but hearing that bit of news might have been too much for even her.”

“You told her the, uh, the circumstances of his death?”

“Yeah. Let’s just say you’re definitely not her favorite person. She’s still recovering from the gunshot wound you gave her and now you killed her boyfriend.”

Hook grimaced. Thinking of the Dark One as someone’s ‘boyfriend’ turned his stomach. Not wanting to think about Rumplestiltskin anymore, he changed the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, Swan?”

“I have to take you back to jail. Everyone in town knows you’ve returned. Letting you go free after you shot someone isn’t going to sit well with them.”

“Even though I rid your fair town and the world of the Dark One’s power?”

“The people in town don’t know that yet. Belle isn’t planning to tell them until after Gold is buried. I’m sure the news will leak out soon. Until then, I don’t want Leroy running around town yelling, ‘Killer on the loose! Killer on the loose!’”

Reaching around behind her back, she extracted handcuffs and held them up between them.

“Again?” Hook sighed. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Standard procedure,” she explained. “Hand and hook behind your back.”

With a dramatic display of reluctance, he did as told. They walked down the pier and onto the beach, then over to the squad car in a moment of deja vu.

On the way to the sheriff’s station, Hook asked, “How is your father, Swan?”

“He has a headache and a good sized lump on his head, but he’ll be fine. You’re not his favorite person, either. In fact, you don’t have many people on your side in this town, which is why I figured you would take the opportunity to leave when I offered it to you.”

“There’s only one person I wish to have on my side, Love. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re really adamant about having that dinner with me, aren’t you?”

“I would never have allowed the bloody crocodile aboard my ship if you hadn’t agreed to that. I fully intend to collect what is owed to me.”

“You might have to settle for Granny’s takeout in your cell, while I eat at my desk.”

“I believe the deal was dinner on my ship.”

“Yeah, well, you might be locked up for quite a while, depending on what Regina says.”

“What does Regina have to do with it?”

Emma pulled up to the station, put the car in park and turned it off. Twisting in her seat, she said, “We don’t have a court system in Storybrooke, so the mayor decides on punishment for crimes. That’s the way she set it up during the curse and we never changed it. Considering the fact you killed her mother, I doubt Regina will be lenient toward you.”

“Regina and I had…an understanding before the curse was cast. I’m sure she will consider that.”

“What sort of understanding?” Emma asked.

Hook leaned forward, putting his face close to the divider between the front and back seat. “Let’s just say we also had a deal. It took a while, but I finally kept my end of it.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You made a deal with Regina to kill her mother?”

“The two of them never had what you might call a close mother-daughter relationship.”

“Just when I thought I heard it all,” Emma mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door.

After releasing him from the back seat, she walked him into the station, her hand gripping his elbow. Upon entering the main area, David rose from the desk, strode across the room and punched Hook in the face.

“Dad!” Emma yelled.

“That’s for the last time we met,” David said, shaking his hand slightly.

Hook licked his bloodied lip before replying, “I thought you might be a bit more genial, considering I brought your daughter home safely.”

“You knocked all the genial out of me when you hit me with that crowbar.”

Emma led Hook across the room, removed the cuffs, unlocked the cell and gestured for him to enter. Dabbing at his lip, he walked in, winking at her as he passed. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected the hint of a smile on her face.

She slammed the door closed, then turned as an afterthought. “I almost forgot. Give me your hook.”

“If you want to hold something, Love, I have a perfectly good hand,” he offered slyly, holding up his hand and wiggling his fingers.

She huffed, but he saw the corners of her mouth turn up again. “Just hand over the hook, funny guy.” As he twisted the hook out of the brace, she added, “And while you’re at it, give me whatever you used to pick the lock last time.”

“I thought you didn’t care if I escaped and sailed away, Swan.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave until I kept my part of the bargain.”

“Ah, yes, our dinner together,” he said, glancing toward David as he said it. His reaction to Hook’s statement didn’t disappoint.

“Your what?” he shouted.

“Calm down, Dad,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I had to make a deal with him so he would agree to bring Gold back to Storybrooke. It’s just dinner.”

“On my ship,” Hook contributed.

“On his ship?!”

Emma threw Hook a frustrated glare, before turning to her father. “I’ll say it again - it’s just dinner. And it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Regina will have to decide what to do with him. In fact, I need to go to her office to bring her up to speed.”

David checked his watch. “I’m supposed to be over at the cemetery in ten minutes to guard against anyone going in while they’re burying Gold.”

Emma sighed. “We probably shouldn’t leave Hook alone. Can you get Leroy to come over and keep an eye on him again?”

“Is that really necessary?” Hook asked.

David narrowed his eyes at Hook for several seconds before picking up the phone.

Turning back to Hook, Emma stated, “Guess that answers your question. Now, hand it over.”

With a dramatic sigh, he passed his hook through the bars into her waiting hand. She accepted it, then held up her other hand. He threw her his most charming smile, but she just tilted her head and speared him with another meaningful glare. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and removed the long hairpin.

As she accepted it, she asked, “Why do you have this thing, anyway?”

“As you can imagine, managing all of these buttons one-handed is quite difficult, so I use that to help pull them through the buttonholes.”

“I think you missed a few,” she murmured.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed,” he cheeked.

She turned away, but not before Hook saw the blush that colored her cheeks. With a satisfied smirk, he crossed the cell and took a seat on the cot.

David left before Leroy arrived, giving Hook some time alone with Emma. “Do you have a preference of what to eat for our dinner together, Swan?”

“You’re awfully presumptuous, thinking you’ll be out of jail anytime soon.”

“I did Regina a favor by killing Rumplestiltskin. I have a feeling she’s going to take that into consideration when she decides my fate.”

“People in town love and respect Belle. They won’t be happy if you get off scot-free for shooting her.”

Hook scuffed his boots back and forth on the floor. “I do feel bad for shooting the lass. I’m glad I only wounded her.”

“At least you’re remorseful,” Emma remarked.

Before Hook could respond, Leroy burst into the office. “I’m here, Sister,” he blustered. Walking straight up to the bars of the cell, he spouted, “No funny business. I’m watching you, Pirate.”

Hook stood and sauntered over to stand in front of him, “Yes, Dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Emma said.

Leroy and Hook continued glaring at each other for several seconds, until Leroy broke eye contact to say, “Charming didn’t tell me why he isn’t able to be here. Is he out on a call?”

Emma and Hook exchanged a quick look. “Um, yeah. Something like that,” Emma mumbled vaguely.

“Well, as long as one of you is back by dinner time. Granny will run out of bacon for my burger if I get there too late.”

“It looks like you could afford to forgo dinner now and then,” Hook muttered.

“Behave yourself, Hook,” Emma cut in before Leroy got a chance to respond.

After she left, Leroy sat down and began swiveling in the chair, keeping an eye on Hook. “So, I’m assuming you followed Sheriff Swan to New York after you knocked out her father?”

“You must be the smart dwarf,” Hook said, resuming his spot on the cot.

“Then how are the two of you back, but there’s no sign of Gold? Did you leave him in New York?”

“I have no idea of the Dark One’s location.” He wasn’t technically lying. The darkness dissipated, but he didn’t know where it went.

Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook shrugged. “It makes me no difference what you believe. I went to New York to ensure Swan’s safety and as you can see, I accomplished that objective.”

Leroy leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sweet on the sheriff?”

Hook very deliberately laid down and turned toward the wall, his back facing the dwarf.

“Because if you are, you’re never going to get her,” Leroy continued. “Her parents and most of the town won’t allow it. She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.”

Hook closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep so he wouldn’t have to listen to the grumpy man any longer. It didn’t work. Even though Leroy stopped talking, the last words he said kept replaying themselves over and over in Hook’s mind.

She’s too good for the likes of you, Pirate.

*********

Word of Gold’s death did indeed leak out, and soon the entire town was aware that they were free of the Dark One forever. Besides expressing their condolences to Belle, they didn’t show any signs of sadness over his loss.

Neal was greeted with trepidation. Granny reluctantly offered him a room at the boarding house and reassured the townspeople that she would keep an eye on him. If he showed any inkling of being like his father, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her crossbow.

Regina stopped in at the sheriff’s station the day after the ship arrived back from New York. After telling David she needed to speak to Hook privately, she stepped in front of his cell and glared at him through the bars.

“Your Majesty,” he drawled. “Or should I say ‘Madam Mayor’?”

“Is it true you’re responsible for my mother’s death, Hook?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Word gets around. Now answer the question.”

“Aye, Love. I finally carried out your noble request.”

“Once the curse was cast, the request was null and void.”

“I wasn’t made aware of any alteration in plans or any changes in your feelings toward your mother. Just because I didn’t do it when you initially sent me to do so, the result is still the same. Now don’t try to tell me you grieve her passing, or that you would have welcomed her to Storybrooke with open arms.”

Regina’s mouth tightened into a straight line before she answered, “You know I didn’t want her here.”

He gave a slight nod. “That’s correct, so I did you a favor. And another by killing Gold. I’d say you owe me, Your Majesty.”

“I suppose you think I should give you some huge reward,” she growled. “What’s your price, Hook?”

He rose from the cot and slowly moved to stand in front of her. “My freedom will do nicely.”

Regina’s perfectly groomed eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s all you want? That doesn’t sound like the greedy pirate I know.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My life’s goal has been met. I have enough doubloons to last me for another three hundred years. What more could I possibly need?”

She crossed her arms and studied him. “If I grant your freedom, I assume you will leave town.”

“Never assume anything.”

“Why would you stay?”

Hook studied his fingernails. “I don’t believe my plans are any of your business.”

“I’m the mayor of Storybrooke. Everything is my business.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You might control your townspeople, but…”

“I brought lunch, Hook.” He looked over Regina’s shoulder to see Emma coming into the room, holding a brown paper bag aloft.

Regina heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned to look over her shoulder. “Didn’t your idiot father tell you I wanted to speak to Hook without being interrupted?”

“I haven’t seen David,” Emma replied coolly. “I’ve been out on patrol all morning. I’m happy to report no one is breaking any laws.”

“No one except him,” Regina said, jerking her head towards Hook.

Emma set the bag of food on the desk. “Well, he’s locked up, so I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him.”

“Apparently he broke out once before and he’s a pirate. Locking him up doesn’t guarantee he won’t break out.”

“He doesn’t have any reason to break out this time, do you, Hook?”

“Alas, no. All of my objectives have been met.”

“I still don’t trust him,” Regina said.

“You needn’t worry, Madam Mayor. Your sheriff is quite efficient,” Hook said. “She particularly enjoys using her handcuffs on me, don’t you Swan?”

He was satisfied to see her cheeks turn pink. She changed the subject by asking, “Have you decided on his punishment yet?”

“Perhaps she’ll sentence me to house arrest with you. Do you have a spare bed? If not, I’m willing to share.”

Regina looked back and forth between them, her mouth set in a firm line. “Miss Swan, if you don’t mind, I haven't finished speaking with your boyfriend.”

Hook suppressed a chuckle, as Emma’s mouth dropped open. “My boyfriend? Hook? What’s your problem, Regina?”

“My problem,” Regina spat, “is that you’re impeding my job.”

“Fine,” Emma shot back. “I’ll be in the other room, eating lunch. When you finally finish your job, let me know.” Picking up the sack, she turned on her heel and went into the small inner office, slamming the door behind her.

Seeing her stand up to Regina filled Hook with pride and more than a little desire. Emma Swan was fiery and fierce, just the way he liked his women.

With effort, he turned his attention back to Regina. She was drumming the manicured fingernails of her right hand on her left bicep. “I’m willing to bet one of your reasons for remaining in Storybrooke involves Miss Swan.”

“I would have never guessed you were one for gambling, Your Majesty.”

She glared at him as Hook stared back at her unflinchingly, plastering a bored look on his face. After nearly a minute, she called loudly, “Sheriff Swan, come out here!”

Emma emerged, chewing and rubbing her hands on her jeans. “You bellowed?”

“I do not bellow,” Regina remarked snarkily. “I’ve come to a decision about this prisoner. He needs to be punished for the attempt he made on Ms. French’s life. Therefore, I sentence him to one month in jail. By that time, maybe he’ll be ready to board his ship, sail away and be some other realm’s problem.”

With that, she spun around and walked out the door, heels clicking on the cement floor.

Emma watched her go, then turned to face Hook. “Looks like you’re going to be our guest for a while longer.”

“Aye, but at least my jailer is a welcome sight to behold.”

“You told me you won’t stay in this cell. Do I need to make sure someone is here to watch you around the clock? Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase you down every other day.”

“As tempting as it is to have you running after me, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not escape.”

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him to detect any trace of deceit. Finding none, she said, “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Hook.”

He wrapped his hand around the bars of the cell. “You’re going to take my advice and try something new, eh Swan?”

Hooking her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans, she shrugged. “You went all the way to New York to make sure I was safe, and didn’t leave when I gave you the chance. I guess you’ve earned my trust.”

Hood couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. The fact that she trusted him was definitely a step in the right direction toward winning her heart. He reached through the bars and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, enjoying the silky feel of it against his calloused skin. “I’m very happy to hear that, Love.”

She was just opening her mouth to reply, when Baelfire entered the room. Hook’s eyes shifted to the other man, causing Emma to look over her shoulder. As soon as she saw Neal, she stiffened.

Bae stopped short when he saw how close the couple was standing. Then he saw that Hook had a lock of Emma’s hair wrapped around his finger and his face turned crimson.

“What’s going on here, Ems?” he blustered.

“Nothing,” she answered tightly.

“Doesn’t look that way to me. Looks like the fucking pirate is trying to seduce you, just like he did my mother.”

“Give it a rest, Neal. He’s behind bars and that’s where he has to stay for a month.”

“A month?” he shouted. “That’s all he gets for killing my father?”

“Actually,” Hook began, “that sentence is for shooting Belle French. Regina felt I did the town a favor by ridding it of the Dark One.”

“What the fuck? You’re just going to get away with murder?” Neal raged.

“Oh, come on, Neal,” Emma groaned. “You’re the one who said to just let your dad die. Now you want to act like the grieving son? I don’t buy it.”

He walked over to stand in front of the cell, looking back and forth between Hook and Emma. Hook untangled his finger from her hair and pulled his hand back. As much as he wanted to smirk at the angry man, he decided it was best not to add fuel to the fire. He didn’t want to put Emma in an even more uncomfortable position.

Bae turned his back toward Hook and tried to step between Emma and the bars. “Isn't it about time for Henry to come home from school, Ems?”

She heaved a sigh and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “School lets out in half-an-hour. Once my dad gets back to the station, I’ll leave to go pick Henry up.”

“Cool. I’ll come with you.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a fierce scowl. Hook was quite happy not to be on the receiving end of it. “No, you will not. I’ve already told you that I need to talk to Henry first. I want to prepare him to meet you.”

“What’s there to prepare? You just say, ‘Henry, this is your father.’ What’s so hard about that?”

“For fuck’s sake, Neal! He thinks his father is dead!”

“Why the hell would he think that?” Neal yelled.

“Because that’s what I told him! I said you were a firefighter who died as a hero…”

Neal leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from hers. “What the fuck, Emma? Why would you do something so idiotic?”

Emma didn’t back away from him as she spoke through gritted teeth. “Would you rather I told him that his dad was a thief and a liar who abandoned me and let me go to jail for a crime he committed?”

When Hook saw Neal grasp Emma’s arms, he had enough. “Let go of her, Bae!” he demanded, reaching through the bars to grab the other man’s jacket.

“Stay out of this, Hook!” Baelfire shouted, jerking away from Hook’s grip, letting go of Emma at the same time. “She’s not yours to protect!”

“She’s not yours, either!” Hook shot back.

“That’s enough!” Emma exclaimed. “Neal, you need to leave. After I’ve had a chance to talk to Henry, I’ll call you. That is, if he wants to meet you today. If he needs more time to process everything, that’s what he’ll get. And you will agree to it, or you won’t meet him at all. Is that clear?”

“I came all this way and he’s my son. You can’t keep me from seeing him.”

“I can and I will if you don’t back off. Go back to your room at the boarding house and wait for me to call.”

Hook watched carefully to see what Baelfire would do next. If he continued to defy and bully Emma, Hook would find some way to get out of the cell and go to her aid.

After several more moments of glowering at Emma, Bae finally stomped out of the office, nearly running into David, who was on his way in.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“He’s demanding to see Henry and I’m making him wait. I need to talk to Henry first.”

David took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I can understand his impatience. He just found out he has a son; it’s only natural to be anxious to meet him.”

“You’re taking his side?” Emma asked.

“I didn’t realize you two are on opposite sides. I thought you were, um…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Do you think we’re together?”

“Well, you do have a child together and you just found each other again after so many years.”

She put her hands on her hips. “If I had my way, I would have never seen him again.”

David’s jaw dropped. “But Mary Margaret and I thought the two of you…”

“Well, you thought wrong!” she spouted, then angrily grabbed her keys and pushed past him.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the door through which she just disappeared. Almost to himself, he murmured, “I’m so confused. Why wouldn’t she want to…”

“Be with Baelfire?” Hook interrupted. “Have you ever asked your daughter about the father of her child?”

David turned around, the look on his face making it clear the answer to Hook’s question was ‘no’. Instead, he said, “That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not, but Emma did share with me what happened between them, and let’s just say she has good reason not to want to be with him.”

“Why would she tell you and not her mother and I?”

Hook shrugged. “I think she felt a bit…trapped by the whole situation of him coming to Storybrooke and she wanted to share her side of the story with someone. I just happened to be available.”

“Did he hurt her?”

“Not physically, but that’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my story to tell.”

David eyed him critically for several seconds, then stepped closer to the cell. “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, how could she? You’re nothing but a pirate.” With those words, he spun on his heel and walked away.

The cocky smirk on Hook’s face faded as he watched David go. For the second time in two days, he had been told that Emma Swan would never be with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. The one consolation he had was that neither time, it was Emma who said it. He would have to cling to the hope that she didn’t feel the same way.

*********

Hook didn’t expect to see Emma any more that day, so when she came into the station soon after he finished eating the meal Granny provided, he was pleasantly surprised. However, seeing the agitated state she was in, his pleasure soon turned to concern.

“I thought I was finishing out this shift,” David said.

“I know, but I figured you would want to spend the evening with Mary Margaret, and since Henry is staying at Regina’s…”

“What? Why is he doing that? I thought you were introducing him to Neal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say things didn’t go as planned,” she said sadly.

“Emma, if you need to…”

“Look, Dad,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll be home in a couple of hours, okay? Maybe by then, I’ll be ready to tell you what happened.”

Hook thought David was going to argue with her, but after a few moments, he blew out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll see you at home. Be careful.” After kissing her forehead, he gave Hook a warning look, then left.

Emma dropped into a chair, threw her head back and groaned.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

She was motionless for so long, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally, she sat up and put her head in her hands. “Not really. Henry is very pissed at me for lying to him. He had no interest in meeting Neal and insisted on going to Regina’s because he doesn’t want to be around me. Then when I called Neal, he went off on me, saying it was all my fault his son refused to meet him.”

“I’m sorry, Love.”

She didn’t reply. He felt helpless seeing her sitting there, looking so defeated.

When she finally stood up, she paced back and forth in front of his cell. “Why did I ever think I could do this? I know nothing about being a mom. I probably screwed him up for life. First I gave him away, then I lied to him about his father…”

“Emma, stop,” Hook said firmly.

She stood still, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. It sounds to me like you made a very courageous decision by giving him up for adoption. Bae abandoned you and left you with very little choice. As far as telling him Baelfire was dead, you had no idea Henry would have a chance to meet him someday. You wanted to spare him the pain of knowing his father was a bloody coward, just like his own father before him. In my opinion, there was nothing wrong with telling Henry he was a hero. It was far kinder than the truth.”

“He was so angry,” she whispered hoarsely. “He may never forgive me.”

Hook’s heart ached for her. “Come here, Love,” he said softly, stretching his hand out through the bars.

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Emma, look at me,” he coaxed.

Slowly, she raised her eyes. Even more slowly, she reached forward to place her hand in his. He gave a little tug to pull her closer. When she was near enough, he attempted to put his arms around her, frustrated that the cell bars were between them.

“This is stupid,” she said, turning her back and walking away. He almost groaned in frustration, until he realized she was pulling a set of keys out of the desk drawer. She approached the cell again, hesitating briefly before unlocking the door. After swinging it open, she stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot.

Hook stepped through the doorway and into her space. Locking eyes with her, he silently asked permission and upon receiving it, gently pulled her into his arms.

At first, her body was stiff and unyielding, but as he rubbed his hand and wrist up and down her back, she gradually relaxed and let him comfort her. “You’re a good mother, Emma. Henry knows that, and he will forgive you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she mumbled into his chest.

“Because I know first-hand how hard it is to stay away from you.” He heard her scoff lightly, but she didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how long she let him hold her, but he relished every second.

Finally pulling away from him, she said, “Thank you, Hook.”

Using his finger to lift her chin, he looked into her beautiful jade eyes and requested, “Will you please call me Killian, Love?”

She blinked, then gave him a small smile. “Okay…Killian.”

*********

Thank you for reading! The final chapter is probably about half written, so hopefully it won't be as long a wait for it.

Tagging:

@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

[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."

[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​

[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....

[spartanguard]

can't believe it took me this long to get to the second part of this. SO GOOD. I so wish we'd had something like this in canon, but reading it is equally cathartic!!! LOVE.

the scars we bare ch2

aaaaand here's part two. if you saw me promise this would be done on tuesday no you didn't <333 thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. it nearly killed me and i loved it

summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence

tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also brief mentions of abuse

✨ ch1 | Ao3 link ✨

Hades hadn’t lied about starting from the beginning. The memories they witnessed were, quite literally, some of the earliest moments of their lives. From infancy to childhood, the memories seemed to blur together. At times they watched together, both occupying the same head, witnessing old, long forgotten moments. Other times they were separated, both of them lost in the long, endless tunnel of sound and noise that led to yet another moment in time.

As the memories blurred together, one into the next, it occurred to Killian how similar their childhoods were. Aside from the time and setting, they could almost be confused for the same, miserable adolescence. The same empty bellies, the same too-cold nights, the same edgy fear of the too-large hands that reached out to slap or to hit. And sometimes, in the worst memories, the hands that would reach out and grab. The hands that would pet and coax, almost comforting. But even in the minds of the young children they knew not to trust them. So they ran. And when they couldn’t run, they fought. They bit and screamed and clawed until the large hands learned not to touch so easily.

Through it all, one key difference made itself apparent. The loneliness. Killian had felt small as a child, had felt fear and isolation, but never truly lonely, not when he had Liam. Liam who fought for him, who protected him, who held him through the worst of it. Emma had no one. She floated through her hopeless childhood completely and totally alone. 

At times people would drift in, foster parents who promised to love her, friends who tried to get closer. But in the end, they left. They always left.

Memories of Ingrid and Lily seemed to blur together. The bright hopeful spark that this person, this bond, would be different. That they would choose her and mean it. And when their betrayals hit her, blindsided her defenses, it hardened her. She built walls around her heart so high no one would ever scale them again. Killian ached for her. 

Through the bond he felt her, felt her presence, and tried to reach for her. He felt her hesitation, and imagined himself wrapping his arms around her. The feeling of her stilled, then softened, curling into him.

He’d spent nearly three centuries alone like that. It ate at a person. He couldn’t imagine a life that had known only that aching, hollow loneliness from the very beginning. 

Eventually the memories slowed. They became mundane and repetitive. It felt as if they were watching days pass just for the sake of wasting time. Hades was toying with them, drawing out the memory spell to keep them there longer. Killian pushed against it. 

That’s enough, he thought loudly inside his head. Do you hear me hades? I said that’s enough.

The memories broke apart, dropping them back into the middlemist field. Killian staggered, glaring at the god lounging in the chair. He had a drink now, a bright blue cocktail with a miniature umbrella sticking out from it. He toasted them with it and grinned.

“Enjoying the show?”

“You’ve made your point,” Killian snapped. “We don't need to drag this out.”

Hades' eyes grew sharp, focusing on something behind Killian. “Oh I don't know about that,” he said quietly.

Killian turned and stopped. Emma swayed behind him, her eyes unfocused, her face white. He rushed to her, his hand moving to her face, his hooked arm snaking around her when she faltered and nearly fell. 

“Emma! Emma, look at me.” 

Refusing to take his eyes off her, he snarled back at Hades. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Just following the rules of our deal. Isn’t that right Emma?” 

Emma groaned, trying to push herself free from Killian's hold, but his arms didn’t move. 

“Killian, it’s ok,” she said with a croak in her voice. “I just need a minute.”

“What is he talking about? What does he mean ‘the rules of your deal?’”

Emma took a long shuddering breath and pulled herself upright, standing taller. Some colour returned to her cheeks and Killian cautiously let his grip on her relax. 

“He told me that in order for him to trust me, to make sure that I would see this through and mean it, I'd have to put some of my magic into it.”

Killian felt dawning horror bleed from his chest and into his lungs. 

“What does that mean?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him. “The memory spell he's using, it’s mine. I’m the one who cast it.”

There was a ringing in Killian’s ears, a shrill, staticky whine that made the world fade away for a moment. Her magic. They were standing inside her spell. He tried to think of how much power a spell of this size would take to keep going, and couldn’t conceive of it. Every moment that passed, ever second they stayed there, she was expending magic at an alarming rate. He could see it now, from the way her hands shook to how her skin looked thin enough to see through. It was devouring her. The magic was drinking her dry, hungry and unstoppable. 

Hades let out a gleeful giggle and clapped his hands. “And there it is! I was wondering when you’d tell him.” 

Killian heard the god of death move, and turned to watch him as he strutted closer. “A bit different when you’re not the dark one hmm? You’ll notice the magic hits just a liiiittle bit harder using light magic instead of all that infinite dark one mojo.”

“Go to hell,” Emma muttered, glancing back at Killian. “I'm ok. I swear I'm ok.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not quite able to keep the betrayal from his voice.

She looked at him for a long, heartbreaking moment. Something tragic flashed in her gaze, there and gone in seconds. “Would you have agreed if you knew?”

“No,” he said reflexively. The truth. He wouldn’t have. “But that was my choice to make Emma.”

She nodded “I know.” 

"Can you end it? Call off the magic?"

Her head shook. "Not while I'm under the sleeping curse. As long as I'm asleep the magic keeps going until this is over."

Her words struck him in the chest, robbing the air from his lungs. Of course. This had been Hades' plan all along. To force her to burn herself out. The cruelty of reliving memories was just a bonus.

“Why?” he asked, “just tell me why.”

She frowned, looking up at him. “I wouldn't leave you here. I can't.” 

She was going to kill herself for him. He knew it even before she answered. She’d die down here and he didn’t know how to stop her. 

“You have to go back Emma. You need to figure out a way to call off this spell and you have to go home.”

“I can do this. Killian please-” her voice broke and Killian felt his resolve crumble. “Do you trust me?” she asked after a moment

He smiled even as his heart split in half. “With my life.”

Her answering smile could have lit the entire night sky. “Ok then. See this through with me. We can do this. Together.” 

He wanted to say no. He needed to make her see. Did she even know? Couldn't she feel how much this spell was taking from her? But when she looked at him, when her chin raised and a light started to ignite behind her steady gaze, he knew he couldn’t stop her. Not yet, not now. But soon. Somehow, he would figure out a way to save her from herself.

As if caught in her current, he nodded at her mutely, and another door sprang into being beside them, swinging open and inviting them in. She took his hand again.

“It’ll be ok,” she said, a promise he knew she couldn’t keep. 

When she stepped through he followed her, powerless to do anything but let himself fall down after her.

***

Emma was tired. And pissed. And sore. And so filled with guilt it nearly choked the life out of her. She’d lied to him. Again. He probably wouldn’t forgive her this time. 

She’d live with it. Somehow, even if he walked away from her after this, if she managed to save him? It would be worth it.

They were falling again, she was holding his hand as the magic flowed around them. What he said earlier stuck with her. Hades was playing them. He wanted to drain her and let her die inside the sleeping curse. She realized that much. She needed to figure out a way to move this along. They needed a way out, and fast.

She tried to think, tried to feel for the edges of the magic. It was her spell damn it. If anyone knew a way out it would be her. But how-

She was thrown, full force into another memory before she had a chance to finish her thought.

In this one, Killian was back on the Jolly, in the captain’s quarters. A man with dark blonde curls stood behind the desk, his grin infectious. Emma felt the rush of love and relief at the sight of the man’s face. Liam. This must be Liam. She should’ve known from the smile. It was almost a twin to Killian’s.

“What now brother?” Killian asked.

“We reveal our king’s cowardice,” Liam announced, marching around the desk, grabbing his jacket.

Emma felt Killian's trust, his complete and total belief in his brother’s ability, and her heart hurt horribly. 

They kept talking, making plans and speaking about the future. Overhead someone called to brace for landing and the ship shook beneath their feet. They grinned at each other and Killian moved to the window, glancing out at the waves, a sense of new found purpose lighting inside him. They were going to expose the king, become heroes. No one else had to die because of his treachery.

“What do you say Liam? Want some company when you report to the admiralty?” Killian grinned as he turned to Liam. Liam who was doubled over in pain. Liam whose face was turning ashen and grey. 

Killian ran to him, grabbing for his brother, trying to pull him up. “No! Liam! Liam please!” he was begging, pleading to anyone who would listen for help

In his arms Liam gurgled, thin veins of inky black creeping across his face like curling spider limbs. Emma held on as Killian’s panic and grief crashed into her all at once, watching the life drain from his brother’s face. Killian’s voice sounded so tragically young when he begged for help, it nearly pulled her under. 

How could one person bear it? she thought again. All this loss. How did he keep moving forward, carrying it all?

She wondered how much more there would be. Who else had he lost? What else had he sacrificed and bartered away? How much more would Hades force her to witness?

None of this was new to her. None of these memories revealed “the man Killian Jones really was.” She already knew damn well who he was, and her heart broke for him. For who he had been and who he was now.

She was done. This was over. This pointless test was ending. Now.

She flared out her power in her mind. She could feel the borders of the spell that trapped them, felt the solid walls of it. She imagined herself reaching out both hands and pushed. Hard.

She felt the bars of her cage start to give and pushed again, harder this time, imagining herself balling her hands into fists and slamming them against the wall again and again. Cracks started to form. The memory she was in faded away, Liam's body and Killian's mind floating back into the past where they belonged. Here, in the present, Emma Swan wrapped herself in her power like armour and pictured the face of the man she loved. 

And punched her fist straight through the spell, shattering it.

***

Killian let the memory pull him where it wanted. He hoped it would be over quickly. He still needed to figure out a way to save Emma from herself. The answer, of course, came to him almost instantly. There was one way to show Emma the man he was. The man he hid from her. He had to show her the truth of his past. She would be horrified, she would leave and it would break whatever was left of the heart she had put back together. But she would be safe. She would go back to her life and she would love again. She would move on.

The thought of it. Of Emma Swan moving on without him, of her loving someone new almost destroyed him. But he knew deep in his bones that he would tear himself apart for her happiness. He had done it before and would do it again.

The memory formed around him as his decision was made. He glanced around. Emma stood alone in a dark back alley. Nervous excitement, and youthful joy crowded her mind. She was happy, so dizzyingly happy it made her head spin.

She was looking at a gold wrist watch, two sizes too big on her wrist and frowned, nerves started to edge their way into her excitement. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Baelfire- No, Neal’s face, filled her mind. He was late. He was supposed to be there and he was late.

She dialed the phone and held it to her ear, frowning when the automated voice told her the number had been disconnected. The hell? Had he forgotten to pay the damn phone bill again? 

“Damn right there’s an error,” she muttered, starting to dial again.

“Unless he set you up,” a loud voice called from behind her.

She turned and froze at the sight of the gun pointed at her. Icy, numb panic flooded through her, made her heart stop. When the cop told her to put her hands on her head she obeyed robotically, not understanding. Neal? Where was Neal? 

The cop was talking but Emma could barely hear him over the rush in her ears. He was full of shit, she was thinking. He didn’t have anything on her, and she told him as much.

“Possession of stolen goods,” he said, gesturing to the watch with the butt of his gun. “Your boy set you up.”

Emma could only stare. Neal . she thought. Just Neal , over and over. 

“He called in a tip, told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station.” 

The words hit her like a physical blow. He’d betrayed her. She’d loved him, gave him everything she had, and he’d betrayed her. Cold, aching misery filled her head. Killian felt it, letting it wash over him. She was alone again and all he could do was watch.

When the cop turned her, snapped the cuffs of her wrists, a numb fury filled her, clouded her mind and settled deep in her bones until walls made of steel formed around her heart. Never again. She would never let herself believe in love. Love made you stupid. It used you up and softened you until you were helpless. Never again.

Killian let the memories move around him, too tired to fight them. So much hurt filled his head, both his and hers, like old scar tissue, hard and calloused. Had love ever come into her life without strings? Without hurt? The unfairness of it made his blood boil.

When the memory finally stilled, she was in a police station. The officer across from her asked her her age. In a quiet, barely there voice she answered; “Seventeen.”

“Got a kid your age,” the cop said flatly and Emma didn’t know how to respond.

Killian tried to focus on the memory, but everything felt blurry. Time seemed to move too fast and too slow all at once, sliding around him.

“Killian.” 

Inside Emma's mind, he froze. The memory around him came to a grinding halt, nothing moving.

“Killian, we need to go.” 

He turned, no longer in Emma's head, but in his own body, sitting inside her frozen memory. Emma, his Emma, stood in front of him, her hand extended.

“C’mon,” she said, “This way, we need to go before Hades finds us.”

He was on his feet, hand in hers and moving before he could ask any questions. She led him to a door with an exit sign above it and pushed through. Instead of the back street he’d been expecting, Granny’s dinner sat before him.

“Emma what-?"

“Just keep moving,” she snapped, breaking into a run.

They ran together through another door, this one leading them to Mary Margret and David’s loft. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing but Emma was pulling him forward still. They headed through another door into the cabin of the Jolly Roger. Then through another into their bed chambers from Camelot. She led him through door after door, all places he recognized, places they had shared together, until finally they crashed through back into the middlemist field.

It was exactly the same as the field they had started in, only it was night time now. They were dressed as they had been in Camelot, she in her white gown and him in his black coat.

She gasped when they came to a halt, stumbling and nearly falling. He caught her, cradling her head as he brought them both to the grass.

“Emma!” her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. “Emma, what did you do?”

“Bought-” she took a shaking breath. “Bought us more time.”

She was still for a moment before opening her eyes. “You were right, Hades is toying with us and I'm tired of it.”

She moved to sit up and Killian saw her arms were trembling even as her shoulders straightened and her jaw set with determination.

“I’m done screwing around. We’re going to finish his stupid test, and then we’re going home.”

“Emma,” he dropped his forehead against hers. Cold sweat dampened her skin. “Emma, this has to end. You can’t keep going like this.”

He felt her nod. “Agreed. That’s why we’re only going to important memories, ones that-”

“No more bloody memories!” he bellowed, whipping his head up and gripping her shoulder. “This ends now. Call hades, call whoever. But tell them it’s over before you kill yourself.”

“No.” 

Her one word answer made his teeth grit, fear and anger nearly blinding him. “I won’t sit here and let you die for me Emma.”

She was still for a moment, studying him. “You’ve already died for me three times, Killian. I'm not stopping.”

He reared back as if she’d hit him. “So what? This is payback? Retribution? I die so you have to as well?”

“No!" the colour was back in her face now, her eyes alive and burning. “No this is me doing what I have to to save the man I love. And I will.”

He shook his head, raising to his feet. “No. Emma, no. I'm not worth this. I'm not worth losing your life over.”

She stood, the fine tremor in her limbs gone now, a halo of light magic behind her. “I’m the one who gets to decide that. Killian-” she broke off, then tried again. “Killian, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I should have and I'm sorry. But I am telling you now. I'm seeing this through. Because you’re worth it.”

“Enough!” his shout echoed across the field, shook the grass around their feet. “You want to see what kind of man you’re trying to save? The man you want to die for? Here.”

He thought of it, the worst things he had ever done, every unspeakable act he had ever committed and formed them into one solid, writhing mass in his mind. Inside the heart of the memory spell, the magic grabbed hold of him, greedily drinking in his shame. A door sprang into life between them. 

“Here, walk through here and see.”

She looked at him. One long, horrible silent moment passed as time held its breath. Then, she turned, opened the door and walked through.

***

There was no tunnel of light, no waiting, no falling. The memories started all at once. Killian with a sword in his hand, laughing, blood spraying on his face as he drove the blade through another man. Killian, with his hand wrapped around an insubordinate crew member's throat. The man was begging for mercy but Killian only squeezed tighter, his rage cold and unforgiving. Another man on his knees, pleading with Killian, telling him of the family who needed him, before Killian ran him through.

The memories felt sharp, pointed. They bit into her skin and tore at her, shredding her clothes and ripping her hair. All of it ruthless, unforgiving. At the heart of them, Killian stood with his heart completely black and hardened, a vicious grin on his face. The deadliest pirate of the seas. Revenge and blood and pain all muddied together in a blinding red haze around her.

He wore rings on his fingers, of the men he killed. He remembered all of their faces. In the darkness of his cabin he tortured himself with their memories. Of the feeling of ending their lives. He'd felt nothing while he did it, and yet in the quiet of his own mind he sliced himself open again and again at the sight of the rings. 

A bastard. A miserable, cruel bastard. He loved it. And he hated it. 

Emma sat in the corners of his mind and watched as the centuries moved in a blur. The heart inside Killian's chest turned hard as stone. Slowly, the killings grew less vicious. They became methodical. Practiced. 

Faces blurred past, cursing him, and he welcomed it. He was cursed.

Every part of him grew colder, harder, crueler. He no longer felt any sense of justice from the death around him. He felt nothing, only a bleak, yawning emptiness that he let fester and rot until there was nothing of him left. A living corpse that bayed to the sky for revenge. A man made of decay. 

***

In the field, cradling her body, Killian waited for Emma to awaken. When her eyes slowly fluttered, he braced himself, waiting for the hatred in her eyes, the revulsion. She blinked and stared up at him for a long moment. Then the most horrifically beautiful sight passed through her eyes; forgiveness.

“Killian,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He found it hard to breathe. A lump had formed in his chest, growing hard and sharp. 

Emma pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around him. “It's ok,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled away from her and just stared. “No. Emma no-you can’t-”

“Just shut up,” she said, her eyes closing as she rose to her feet. He followed her, his arms ready to catch her. She sounded so tired and it terrified him. 

“Was that it? Was that supposed to prove something to me?” her eyes opened and the green depths were so clear and understanding it completely shattered him. “It was a good try, pretty rough stuff. But Killian? Did you think I didn't know about your past?”

“I-”

“I know who you are. I know who you were then and I know who you are now.”

“Emma please, don’t do this.”

“I love you Killian. I love the man you are right now. And that’s the man I'm going to save.”

Laughter formed in his chest, rough and malformed, it thrust out of his throat in a harsh burst. 

“You can’t Emma, it’s too late, don’t you see that? Please. You need to let me go,” he looked down at the field of flowers beneath their feet then back up at her. In her white gown, lit by moonlight, she seemed to glow. “This is where it should have ended the first time love. Where it was always meant to end. Please just listen to me. You can’t stay here and die for me. I’m telling you now, I’m not worth your salvation. I’m not worth your life.”

She shook her head in short, frustrated jerks. “And I’m telling you, that you’re wrong.” Her hands lifted, framing his face. Hot, angry tears forming in her eyes, shining like burning stars. “I’m not offering you salvation Killian. You already earned that all on your own. I’m offering you a life, a home. With me.”

He smiled, trying to trace every line of her face, trying to memorize the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes lit with emerald flames. He wanted to burn her memory into his mind, how she looked at this exact moment, full of righteous purpose. His Swan.

“I know you love me Emma. And I know you feel you need to save me. But you can’t. Whatever misplaced guilt that’s keeping you here, please just forget about it. It’s alright,” his hand reached up to touch the ends of her hair, running the strands of them through his fingertips. “It will be alright.”

“Is that what you think?” she jerked free of his hold, took a step back. Whatever exhaustion had clouded her expression before was burned away, replaced with something hot and furious. “That I came all the way down here, let myself get cursed, put myself through all this, because I feel guilty?”

“Emma-”

“Well guess what? I do! I do feel guilty. I got you killed in Camelot and then I brought you back and cursed us all. And you know what? I'd do it again. I’d do this a hundred times over and then a hundred more times because when it comes to you Killian Jones? I'm selfish. Because. You. Are. Mine.”

She punctuated each word in short, clipped bursts that hit him like cannon fire to the chest.

“You’re mine,” she repeated, taking a step towards him, invading his space. “And I’m yours. And I'm not leaving you down here. I'm not leaving you with Hades. Because I love you. I love you so much and I'm bringing you home. We. Are going. Home.”

She was swaying, magic seemed to frame her like a halo. He couldn’t look away. “You told me, back in Storybrooke when I was the dark one, that it didn’t matter what I had done, that you still loved me. Well guess what? It's a two way street. Whatever you’ve done Killian? It doesn’t matter. I love you. I love you as the man you are now. The man who did those things and who still changed. They’re a part of you. And I love every single part.”

Her eyes were burning. He stared at them, transfixed. She had always been like golden sunlight to him. Now she was like a supernova, lighting him on fire. 

“We are going to get through this together. And then you’re going to kiss me, break this stupid sleeping curse, and we’re going to go home.” 

She sounded so certain, he didn’t know what to say. His mouth moved to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. What could he even say? That this wouldn’t work? That if he was right then this whole endeavor was doomed? That while they loved each other, it might not be true love?

“What?” she asked, searching his face. Slowly, a dawning look of realization came over her face. “You don’t think it will work. The kiss.”

“It isn’t just that, Emma-” he swallowed around a lump in throat. “Emma I love you, and I know you love me. But true love is the rarest magic there is. What if we’re wrong?”

“We’re not. I know it. I know what we have, I know it’s true love.”

Her confidence crashed over him like a wave. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted her belief, needed it so badly at that moment. But he just couldn’t.

“You still don’t believe me,” she said, studying him. “Ok then. Here. I’ll show you”

He saw her raise her hand, and dread filled him, knowing what she was about to do. Calling another door now would drain what was left of her magic and probably kill her.

“Emma don't! You can’t-”

Her hand flicked once, a surge of power snaking out like a ribbon of smoke, forming another door. She stood for a beat, then staggered. He cursed as he caught her, his arm circling her as her legs gave out and she fell into him. 

“There,” her voice was barely audible as she jerked her chin toward the newly formed door. “Let's go. You’ll see what I mean.”

Annoyance, terror, and misery surged through him all at once. Her face was too pale, her fingertips cold where they touched his arm. They didn’t have time for this. But as he looked into her face, saw the determination in her eyes even under half closed lids, he knew. There was only one way forward.

“When this is over,” he said carefully, bending down to pick her up even as she huffed a protest. “If by some miracle we make it out, you’re going to bed for two weeks. I'm locking the door and throwing the phones away. Understood?” 

She grumbled even as her head lolled against his chest. “If we get out of this, I'm sleeping for a month.” she muttered.

“Deal.”

Her face brightened with the ghost of a smile as the door opened and he carried her across.

***

The memories started so gently, inviting him now, rather than dragging him. Inside them, he could feel Emma beside him, her presence like a steady heartbeat, guiding him. He held onto her, felt her grip him back, and let them both fall into the past together. 

They were alone, in his cabin below the deck of the Jolly. He was stretched out beside her, asleep on the too small bunk. Through Emma’s eyes, he watched her reach out and brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. Love, a constant, drumming, beating force inside her heart, bloomed up and spilled over her. In the privacy of his room, where no one could see, she let the tears sneak into the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t known it could feel like this. That love could be simple sometimes, that it could be peaceful. Killian made loving him so easy that it had almost blindsided her a few weeks ago when she realized what she had been feeling. She loved him. Of course she loved him.

There were times it nearly overwhelmed her. Even thoughts of him were enough to have the feeling flood though her, washing her in the blinding glow of it. She hadn’t felt love like this, not once in her life. She’d thought she had, thought she knew everything love had to offer and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. But god. For Killian? She would do anything, give anything for this feeling. She would have loved him for free. She didn’t know how not to.

In the memory, past-Killian’s eyes fluttered. He groaned something in his sleep, turning to her, reaching for her. He was always doing that. She wondered if he knew. She moved her head to rest it on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart and grounded herself with it. And when she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips.

The memory blurred, winding around them. Killian felt helpless to stop it. They were at Granny’s, sitting together at a booth. He was making her laugh about something, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. The bright glow of her love for him was like a banking fire, strong and steady. When he turned to look at her, when she saw in his eyes the love he felt for her like an answer to her own, it took her breath away, the love inside her chest growing into an inferno. She knew he loved her. She could feel it in every moment he spent with her. Killian Jones loved her so much it practically shone out from him and bathed her in the warmth of it.

It scared her at times, being loved so strongly. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever loved her this much. She didn’t think anyone ever would again. 

More memories formed, all blurring over one another. They were in the car, Killian had brought her coffee and remembered to include extra sugar packets. She’d kissed him like they were teenagers making out in the backseat. Then they were at the station together, going through paperwork. Emma had shivered and Killian had thrown his coat over her shoulders without looking up, the act almost second nature to him. She thought her heart might have burst open in that moment.

Killian wanted to stay in these moments, wanted to live in them as long as he could. But they were moving him, gently guiding him, and he let himself be pulled along. 

They were on her bed in the loft. She was on top of him, dizzy, joyful relief making her giddy. He was alive. She had watched him die in another realm and here he was. Alive. 

She loved him so much at that moment and it nearly paralyzed her. She had almost lost him without telling him, almost lost her chance to say it out loud, to make it real. And the idea of that terrified her even more. She should say it, now while they were alone, while they had this time. In his eyes she could see he knew, he knew the words she wanted to say, could feel his anticipation. 

He loved her, but he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t needed to of course, she already knew. But still he had held off, waiting for her to make the first move. He knew her better than anyone else, and he knew she would run if he moved too fast. So he waited for her. He was waiting now.

The words were there, ready, waiting to come out. And she couldn’t say them. 

If she told him, it would become something else. It would be out there, in the open, for anyone else to see. In this moment, her love, this perfect, precious feeling, was only theirs. It belonged to only them. And she wanted to protect it, keep it safe. At least for a little while longer.

She would tell him. Soon. She would sit him down and tell him the words and make everything real. But for now? For now all she wanted to do was hold him. To feel the weight and the warmth of him beneath her. To sit in the feeling of his unspoken love for her, just a minute more.

Killian’s heart clenched, hard. Inside the frozen moment he felt Emma, his Emma, press a kiss to his face. Sorry, she thought, and he heard it inside his head. I’m sorry Killian. 

There was nothing for her to be sorry about. She loved him. He adored every bloody inch of her and in return? She loved him back so fiercely he was nearly blown down from the force of it. 

He tried to imagine himself holding her, pulling her close. Was there more? More quiet memories like this? Full of love and endless happiness? He thought he’d like to see them.

But slowly, the memories started to fade, the colours running, the sound quieting. All around them, the light dimmed, and the magic ended.

***

Emma, he thought. Emma. 

She had been right all along. It was true love. How could it not be? How could this feeling be anything less than true love? He woke in the field, his heart full, turning to reach out for her. 

She lay in the grass beside him, unmoving.

For one awful, terrible second, Killian could only stare. Her face was too white, the skin of her eyelids a pale purple, her lips blue. She wasn’t breathing.

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. “Emma no.”

He moved mechanically, his arms jerky, his breathing shallow. No she couldn’t be. He had just been with her, in the memory. She’d been alive and had kissed him, she was-

Her whispered words came to him, unbidden. I’m sorry Killian. What had she been apologizing for? 

“No.” He repeated the word. “No, no, NO, NO!”

He touched her cheek and nearly flinched back. Her skin was frozen. Terror built up in him in a frenzy, a dull whine building in his head. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t.

He pulled her to him, his movements gentle, like she might shatter in his hold. Her head lolled to the side, her arms heavy and dragging, a dead weight at her sides. Something primal beat through his veins, a screaming, gnawing terror that bordered on hysteria. She was not dead. They had not done all this, come this far, for her to die. 

He pressed his ear to her chest and nearly sobbed when he heard a heartbeat. It was sluggish, but it was there. 

“Emma please, you need to wake up.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb across the icy chill of her skin, trying to press some colour into it. “I need you to wake up. Please-” his last word broke on a strangled plea, tears filling his vision.

A crack of magic snaked through the air and a door exploded into life several feet away from him. Hades burst through, his face a mask of pure rage. 

“You little-” he hissed. He came to a halt at the edge of the field, his snarl freezing at the sight of Emma in Killian’s arms.

“Well now. Isn’t this something?” A cruel, vicious grin split his face. “This looks almost  familiar doesn’t it? Killian Jones, holding the body of the woman he couldn’t save.”

His words bounced off Killian, unheard. He was too deep inside his own churning panic. She was fading, every second they spent here, she was slipping away. There was only one thing left he could think to do.

“Emma,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “If you can hear me, please. Come back to me.”

He cupped her face and lifted it gently. From behind him he heard Hades shout.

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE-”

Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s. 

And the world exploded.

***

Emma had seen true love magic before. She’d felt it herself when Henry had nearly died in her arms. The raw power of it had taken her breath away. But it was a different feeling altogether to be the one receiving it. To be kissed by her true love. It felt like coming home. It felt like love. It felt like everything. 

Every moment together, every lingering thought, every second she had loved and been loved by Killian Jones crystallized into one perfect, all consuming force of magic that flowed all at once into her body. It ran down her boneless arms, flowing into struggling lungs, and filled her with a warmth and a light so full and strong it felt like being lit from within. And when she started to wake, when the sleeping curse snapped apart and her eyes flew open, she swore she could taste rum and sea salt in the air.

Killian’s face floated in the space above her, his wide eyes shining as his mouth hung open in an expression Emma could only describe as awe.

“Told you,” she said with a smile, her tired eyes still half drooping. “True love’s kiss. Works every time.”

He let out a watery laugh, dropping his forehead to hers. “Aye that you did. Should have known you’d be right.”

She hummed a weary sound of pleasure, even as her exhausted body throbbed like a bad toothache. Her fingers moved up to thread their way through his hair. “Wanna see if we can do it again?”

His breath fanned across her cheek as he huffed out a laugh. “May have delay that love. First,” he glanced up. “I believe we should figure out where exactly we are.” 

Emma frowned as things slowly started to come back into focus. White, glowing light seemed to surround them from everywhere, and when she tried to slowly pull herself up, the floor beneath her felt smooth and warm to the touch. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said as she looked around. It almost resembled a hallway. The widest and most expensive hallway she’d ever been in. It had golden marble floors and walls, and impossibly tall, carved column pillars that held up a domed ceiling. It rose so high above them that they had to crane their heads all the way back to see it.

“Another memory?” she asked him.

“Not one of mine.”

“Well it’s not mine, I think I would’ve remembered this place.” she said, trying to squint up at the airy, arched ceiling.

“If you’re both done laying around,” a voice called from behind them. “The way out is over there.”

Emma nearly jumped as Killian's arms tightened around her, both of them quickly turning to look at the woman seated at the far end of the hall who hadn’t been there a moment ago. She sat, half sprawled on a stone bench draped with spotted furs, a massive bow between her bent knees that she was trying to restring. Her copper skin seemed to glow faintly as she pulled the string taught and glanced up at them, clearly annoyed. Emma tried not to tense when she noticed the intense yellow of her eyes, or the way her pupil seemed to lock onto them like a hawk. 

“Well?” she asked again, jerking her chin towards the other end of the hall. “Go on, you can’t stay here forever.”

“Ah, where exactly?” Emma stuttered as Killian helped her to her feet.

The strange woman with the bird eyes waved her hand, dismissing them. “Just ask one of the others, I'm busy here.”

“One of the others…?” Killian murmured, trailing off as they both turned. 

Dozens of bodies suddenly moved around them, all of them with deep skin that held the same faint glow as the woman, and all draped in loose, airy fabrics cinched at the waists. Some slowed to stare at them, their smiles warm but puzzled. Others ignored them completely, pushing past with somewhere else to be.

“So I guess we just,” Emma gestured forward. “Find the exit.” 

“It would appear that way,” Killian said with a frown as his hand found hers, pulling her closer.

“Are they..? I mean do you think we’re in-?”

“I don't think it would be wise to ask that question,” Killian said in a hushed tone, keeping his eyes lowered. “I have a distinct impression that we aren't allowed to stay here very long.”

Emma tried not to stare as they moved past the impossibly beautiful masses, even when she felt the force of their power brushing against her senses. The sudden, overwhelming urge to not draw attention to themselves, took over her, and she tried to shrink. 

“Up there,” she whispered to Killian as she pointed to a spot where the hallway opened up and forked off in two different directions. “Let’s just pick one and hope the way out is somewhere along there.”

He nodded, gripping her hand tighter. As they got closer, they veered left, away from the crowd of people, and down another hallway. This was once smaller than the first, and quieter, but still managed to tower over them. 

“If we get lost here…” Emma said after a moment.

“Let’s hope very hard it doesn’t come to that.” Killian said tightly, pulling her through an arched passageway. “I imagine this isn’t a place they allow you to overstay your welcome.”

They moved into a massive room, the floor curving down towards an enormous raised platform that held a throne made of pulsing, molten gold. On it, a bearded man, nearly three times their size, towered over them. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, sending sparks of lightning shooting and dissipating into the air.

“Welcome heroes,” he said, his voice echoing and deep. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

Killian and Emma stood frozen, awestruck. His eyes were a burning gold and so bright they felt hot on her face. Emma's own eyes watered with the effort of looking directly at them. He smiled at them, his teeth blinding white against the dark bronze of his glowing skin. 

“You have faced your trial with great bravery I see.”

“I-ah thank you. We appreciate that,” she murmured, at a loss for what else to say. “Are you-? I mean is this-?”

He leaned forward, his attention on them scalding, like the heat of the sun beating down on them. Emma nearly felt herself take a step back, but stopped when Killian’s arm curved around her waist, holding her up.

“What Emma means is,” Killian glanced at her, his smile tight, his eyes slightly too wide. “What might we call you?”

The man reached a massive hand up, his fingers stroking the thick, dark curls around his chin. “I have many names, given to me by many people. Although, I believe the one you may know me as, is Zeus.”

“Oh.” Emma said in a whisper, unable to stop herself. Zeus. Of course. He was certainly… bigger than the other gods they’d seen.

“I’ve been watching you two as you embarked on my brother’s trials. That was quite the clever loophole to his test, little Swan,” he said, inclining his head towards her.

“Your brother?” she blinked, glancing at the crackling electricity arcing across his knuckles, then back at his sun lit face. “I can uh- see the resemblance.”

His laughter was a boom of sound that made Emma’s ears ring.

“Hades spends too long below ground,” Zeus said. “I keep telling him he should get out more, put some life back into his cheeks.”

Emma smiled and nodded, suddenly wondering if she was still caught in the dream realm. Was this really happening? Was she making small talk with the king of the literal gods? Beside her, she could feel how tense Killian stood, every line of his body pulled tight.

“You look distressed Killan Jones,” Zeus said. “I would think meeting a god would not affect you so, having met two of my brothers so far.”

Two? When the hell had he met another one? If they made it out of this without being melted into puddles, she would have to ask him about that.

“It’s not that,” Killian said, his voice deceptively calm, a charming smile on his face. “I just worry about overstaying our welcome here, as honoured as we are to be here.”

Zeus leaned back on his throne. He was enjoying this. For the time being at least. 

“You two have fought well today. True heroes, both of you are welcome in my halls.”

“Thank you, that is a great honour indeed,” Killian said, his voice growing slightly sharp. 

Emma could feel panic start to rise in her. They could stay here forever if they weren’t careful, talking in circles with a god who seemed in no hurry to let them leave.

“Is that why we’re here? Because we passed the trial?” she looked at Killian, held his gaze. “Did we win?”

“Well that depends,” Zeus said, his voice like heavy stones rolling down a mountain.

“Depends on what?” she asked cautiously, her tone holding none of the tremors she felt in her limbs.

“Depends on you, hero born of love and magic. Do you believe you have passed the trial? Do you believe you know now what kind of man Killian Jones really is?” 

Emma felt like time held its breath. This was it. This was the sort of thing they wrote legends about wasn’t it? Trials set by the literal gods to test heroes? Everything that happened now rested on her shoulders. No pressure. 

“Like I already told Hades earlier, there wasn’t any need for a test,” she said after a beat. “I already know what kind of man he is. And I was right.”

She turned to look at him and saw he was already facing her, his face filled with love and awe at the sight of her. “Well it’s true,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.

Zeus's laugh was booming. Emma tried not to wince as her ears throbbed. She glanced back at the king of the gods, her eyes going about as high as they dared without looking directly into his molten stare, and landing somewhere on his chin.

“WELL SPOKEN LITTLE SWAN!”

Emma swore her knees almost buckled beneath his praise, but still managed to nod her thanks

“I bear witness to you both. Emma Swan;” his enormous hand swept towards her. “Saviour of magic and of her people. And you Killian Jones; Hero of the Saviour.”

Emma thought she heard all the air shoot out of Killian at once, the title landing squarely on his shoulders and nearly taking him out at the knees. She gave his hand a reassuring pat. It was a good name. She would remember that.

“Thank you Zeus,” she said finally, nodding her head to him. “We’re ah- We’re both honoured.” 

Killian stood still beside her, and she turned to look at him. As if drawn by her attention, he turned away from the king of gods, and leaned into her. His arms rose, circling her waist, pulling her closer. 

“I will tell my brother the trial is over; you’ve both passed.” Emma could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sure Hades will be most pleased.”

Emma doubted that. She just hoped they were both far the hell away when he heard the news. 

“Are we…I mean. Are we free to go?” she looked up at him, trying not to squint as she met his stare, even when tears started to form in her eyes. “Can we go home now?”

Zeus smiled and it was like watching the sun rising between mountain peaks, the light of it so brilliant and overpowering it left spots in her vision. 

“Of course,” he murmured. Behind him, a passageway opened, forming between the towering columns. White, brilliant light spilled from it, as warm and welcoming as a homecoming. “You have my blessing. Well met heroes.”

They both nodded, moving towards the door with the warmth of his stare on their backs. When they walked to the passage, hands held, Killian turned to her, his face shining. “You did it Swan.”

She gripped him, pulling him to her. “We did it. Now,” she smiled, a heavy mass buried deep in her chest finally releasing its grip on her and falling away.  “Let’s go home.” 

As they stepped into the light together and the magic curled around them, their heads tilted together, their lips meeting. A bright light, shining and radiant, erupted from inside them. The power of it shimmered, colour and magic spiraling together like jeweled starlight, holding a world of promise and the faint scent of middlemist blooms.

[jrob64]

Exacting His Revenge - Chapter 4

Now a complete story!

Here we are, finally at the end of this story. When I started posting it in October for @kmomof4 's birthday, I had no idea I would be posting until Christmas!

Thank you and Merry Christmas to my wonderful beta and friend @hookedmom !

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 (for smut in this chapter, requested by the birthday girl)

Words (chapter 4): 11,928

Posted on Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 and also on Ao3 & ffn

Story under the cut.

*********

Hook awoke slowly the next morning, not wishing to leave the dream world in which he was holding Emma Swan. She left the office soon after she locked him back in the cell last night, but he was pleased to see she seemed a bit lighter and less like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, then swung his legs over the side of the cot. Yawning and rubbing his hand down his face to try to wipe away the sleep, he failed to notice David sitting at the desk. When his vision cleared, he met the other man’s gaze, surprised to see it wasn’t laced with anger and dislike. While he wouldn’t term the look one of friendship, at least it was less hostile.

“Good morning, Dave,” Hook said. “Have you been watching me sleep?”

“Not by choice. It’s just my turn to keep an eye on you.”

“I was alone all night and yet I’m here. Do you really still think I’ll try to escape?”

David got up and crossed the floor to stand in front of the cell, rubbing his hands together brusquely. “What did you say to Emma last night?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“When I left here, I could tell she was very upset but refused to talk to me. Whatever you said to her seemed to calm her down, because when she got back to the loft, she was able to tell us what happened with Henry. She said you helped her realize that he will get over it.”

“I just reassured her that she’s a good mother. Henry is a good lad. After he’s had some time to think about it, he’ll see that she had his best interest at heart by avoiding the truth.”

David eyed him skeptically. “How could you possibly know that? You haven’t even met Henry, have you?”

“Not formally, but in the weeks after I arrived in Storybrooke, I observed the two of them together. Additionally, Emma talked about him during our time together on my ship. He sounds like a bright boy.”

“He is. I know Emma feels a tremendous amount of guilt about giving him up for adoption; but ever since he found her, the two of them have been very close. Getting back to the subject though, what truth was she avoiding with Henry? She still hasn’t told Snow and me the whole story about what happened with Neal.”

“Might I suggest you sit down and have that conversation with her soon?”

He was taking a chance, giving Emma’s father advice like that. He figured it wouldn’t go over very well, since David made it quite clear the evening before that he thought of him as nothing more than a pirate.

So Hook was quite surprised when the other man nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m sure if we did, it would help us understand the situation better.”

“Your daughter is a tough lass, but she’s had to handle a lot on her own. I’m sure she would welcome support from her parents.”

“Breakfast is served!” Ruby announced, prancing into the station with a large brown bag in her hand.

David let Hook out to use the restroom, while Ruby set up breakfast. When Hook was locked back in his cell, David grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. “I gotta go, Ruby. I’ll eat breakfast later.” With that, he sprinted out the door.

Ruby gaped as she watched him go. Then she slowly turned toward Hook. “What flew up his skirt?”

*********

By late morning, Hook was seriously considering breaking his promise of not escaping. Once Ruby left, he was alone for hours, endlessly pacing and wondering what was going on with Emma.

When he finally heard the door open, he strained to see who was coming in. Relief flooded him upon seeing golden hair and red leather.

Emma entered and tossed her keys on the desk, then looked at him. As he was trying to read her guarded expression, a grin suddenly spread across her face.

“You were right,” she said simply.

“Of course I was,” he cheeked. “But what was I right about?”

“Henry. He called this morning to say he forgave me and wanted to meet Neal. The three of us had breakfast together and now the two of them are at the park, getting to know each other.”

“That’s excellent news, Swan.”

“It happened soon after David came home and asked me about my history with Neal. I guess you suggested it to him?”

“Aye. I thought it would be beneficial to all involved, except perhaps Baelfire. Did you tell him?”

“Yeah. I sat down with my parents and told them everything.”

“How did they take it?”

“Dad was upset, but Mom was downright irate. Dad had to stop her from going to the boarding house. She wanted to punch Neal in the face.”

Hook laughed. “You must get your fierceness from your mother.”

She smiled again. “They had calmed down by the time Henry called, and didn’t protest about him wanting to meet his dad.”

“I’m very happy things worked out so well.”

“Me, too,” she sighed. “Now, if I can just get it through Neal’s head that he and I have no future together, everything will be great.”

“Still pushing for that, is he?”

“He mentioned something about being a family a couple of times. When Henry left the booth to use the bathroom, I told Neal to stop putting ideas in the kid’s head because it’s never gonna happen.”

“How did he respond to that?”

“He started to protest, but I told him if he keeps it up, I’ll limit his time with Henry. Then he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again.”

“And you trust him to keep that promise?”

“Not really, but I told Henry to let me know if he keeps talking about it. I just don’t want my kid to be set up for disappointment.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” Hook said.

Emma walked closer to the cell. “I wanted to thank you again, Killian, for being there for me last night. You were a good listener, which was exactly what I needed.”

“Well, I couldn’t help being a captive audience,” he teased.

“Ha-ha,” she said flatly, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled. “I’m glad I could help, Swan.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that we saw Belle in the diner today. She asked how long you were going to be locked up. When I told her a month, she was actually fine with that. I was pretty surprised, but once she walked away, Neal told me that after they left the cemetery, he filled her in on the details of his mother’s death.”

Hook’s brows knit together in a scowl. “How did she react to that bit of news?”

“Neal said she was angry and hurt that Gold lied to her. It all happened before she met him, of course, but she was still shocked that he was capable of doing such a thing to the mother of his own child.”

Hook studied the toes of his boots, before speaking quietly. “It’s too bad she was misled by that bloody demon.”

“Yeah, I think on top of everything else, she feels foolish for trusting him. Anyway, she doesn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings toward you.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Not even for shooting her?”

“I told you, she’s very sweet. Apparently, she’s very forgiving, too.”

He thought about that for a few moments, staring into space until Emma asked, “Is something wrong? You look a million miles away.”

His eyes snapped back to her face. “I was, um…I was just thinking that it feels quite nice to be forgiven. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

She smiled and reached into the cell to squeeze his bicep. “I better get some work done. Is there anything I can get you?”

“A book or two to while away the hours would be much appreciated. I’ve already counted all of the cracks in the walls and ceiling of this bloody cell. If I don’t have something to occupy my mind soon, I think I might go mad.”

“I can arrange that. Do you want anything in particular?”

“I trust your judgment, Swan. Whatever you choose will be fine.”

“What about a bodice ripper love story?” she smirked.

He grabbed the bars with his hand and hook and leaned in as close as he could possibly get to her. “Are you intending to put ideas into my head, Love?”

Color immediately flooded her cheeks. “I’ll pick up a couple of mysteries for you.”

As she turned and walked away, he grinned. He found it quite entertaining to fluster Emma Swan.

*********

Every day of the next month followed a familiar routine. Either Emma or David were in the office throughout the day, leaving Hook alone overnight. Ruby dropped off food for him three times a day, and he was allowed out of the cell to use the bathroom, when necessary. Three times a week, he was taken to Granny’s boarding house to shower. After the first week, they didn’t even handcuff him for the walk across town.

Emma provided Hook with a steady supply of reading material from the library. One day, he was taken by surprise when Belle stopped at the station with two books clutched to her chest.

“Emma was checking these out when she got called away for an emergency,” she explained nervously. “I told her I would bring them to you.”

Hook slowly rose from the cot and approached the bars. “That was very kind of you, Lass.”

She moved closer, but didn’t offer the books to him. “I, um, I was hoping to talk to you, anyway.”

Hook waited, giving her an opportunity to collect her thoughts.

“Neal…Baelfire, he…he told me what Rumple did to Milah. How he…killed her. I know he was the Dark One, but I never thought him capable of such a thing. I mean, crushing the heart of his own son’s mother.”

“Aye,” Hook said quietly. “He did it right in front of me.”

“I should be angry at you for killing the man I loved, but after hearing that, I’m not sure I ever really knew him. What you did wasn’t right, but I…I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“I’m not sorry for finally getting my revenge on the crocodile, but I would like to apologize for shooting you. It was very bad form,” he said sincerely. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

Her fingers reached up to rub at her shoulder subconsciously. “I’m recovering nicely. Dr. Whale says I won’t have any lasting damage.”

“That’s good to hear. I truly am sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Once I’m released, I would like to make it up to you somehow, if you’ll allow me.”

“Actually, since my injury, it’s been difficult for me to shelve the books that go on the upper shelves. Would you mind helping with that?”

“I would happily do that for you. It’s the least I can do.”

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, until Belle seemed to remember her purpose for being there. Holding the books out to him, she said, “I helped Emma choose these for you. I must say, you have very good taste in books. You read them so quickly, too.”

He took them from her hands, checking the titles on the spines. “Well, I have very little else to do in here. Being on the ship for months on end helped me develop quite a love for reading. I got into the habit of…acquiring books at the many ports I visited.”

“Acquiring as in stealing?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Pirate, Love,” he quipped. “If you are interested in seeing my collection of books, they’re on my ship. You’re welcome to peruse them at your leisure.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Belle said, “but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t want to go aboard your ship, after what happened there.”

“Aye,” he said simply, nodding his head. “I hope you won’t harbor ill feelings toward me, but I understand if you do.”

Belle clasped her hands in front of herself. “I was thinking…since you have to be locked up for another two weeks, perhaps I could come by and we could discuss books together.”

Hook looked up in surprise. “You want to visit me, after all I’ve done?”

She shrugged slightly. “What’s done can’t be undone. I believe one way to overcome bitterness with someone is to get to know them better.”

“That’s quite noble of you, Lass. I would enjoy having someone with whom to discuss literature.”

Belle smiled. “How about if I stop by after I close the library tomorrow? Do you think you’ll be finished reading The Swiss Family Robinson by then?”

He flipped through the pages of the book. “I’ll be finished. Dave was kind enough to provide me with a lamp so I can read after both he and Emma leave at the end of the work day. I usually read until late at night.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it. Thank you again, Lass - for everything.”

With one last smile, she turned and left the station.

Soon after the door closed, Emma came bursting into the room. “Everything alright, Killian?”

Ever since he asked her to call him by his given name, she stopped calling him Hook altogether. Hearing his given name, he realized it had been centuries since he heard anyone use it. The last person he could remember was…Milah. Now, every time his name passed Emma’s lips, his heart swelled.

“Aye, Love. Why do you ask?”

“I just saw Belle leaving. Did the two of you talk?”

“We did.”

“How did that go?”

“You were right about her - she’s very forgiving. She said Bae told her what Rumplestiltskin did to Milah, and she understood why I wanted my revenge, even though she didn’t agree with my methods. I apologized for shooting her and told her once I am released, I will help with replacing the books on the upper shelves of the library until her arm is completely healed. She accepted both my apology and my offer, then, believe it or not, she proposed stopping by here from time to time to discuss books we’ve both read. As a matter of fact, she’s coming in tomorrow after the library closes.”

“Wow,” Emma remarked. “That’s…unbelievable.”

Hook nodded in agreement. There were several beats of silence, until he said, “Belle said you were called away to an emergency.”

“Yeah. Two of the dwarves were driving over to the mine and Tom sneezed loudly enough to wake a squirrel that was apparently sleeping behind the seat of Leroy’s truck. It started running berserk, which caused Leroy to run off the road into Peter’s pumpkin patch. When I got there, Peter and Leroy were at each other’s throat, while Sneezy was still trying to get the squirrel out of the truck. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt and there was no damage to the truck. All it took was for me to threaten Leroy with jail time if he didn’t pay for the pumpkins he smashed. I don’t think he was interested in being your cellmate.”

Hook laughed as she finished explaining.

“Laugh all you want, buddy. You weren’t the one who had to separate Grumpy and Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. I swear, my life is so bizarre.”

*********

The next day, Hook was waiting for Belle to arrive, when Henry ran into the station, shouting, “Mom! Mom!”

“She’s out at the moment, lad,” Hook responded.

“Oh,” Henry said, looking crestfallen.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Doesn’t she usually meet you after school?”

“Sometimes. My dad was supposed to pick me up today, but he wasn’t there. That’s why Grandma brought me here to find my mom. I have something really exciting to tell her.”

“Well, I know I’m not your mother, but if you would like to share, I would be amenable to hearing it. Unless you want your mother to be the first to hear it, which is quite understandable.”

Henry studied him for a few seconds. “You talk funny.”

Hook couldn’t help chuckling. “Aye, I suppose it does sound funny to your young, modern ears.”

“Did you really kill Mr. Gold?”

Hook scratched behind his ear. “Aye. Did your mother tell you about that?”

“No, and neither did my other mom. I heard some of the kids talking about it at school. He was my grandfather, you know.”

  “I’m aware. I suppose you are angry at me.”

Henry shrugged. “Not really. He wasn’t very nice to anybody, except Belle. He was the beast from Beauty and the Beast, you know. She’s the beauty, of course.”

“That makes sense.”

“You believe me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It took my mom a while to believe me when she first came to Storybrooke. She didn’t think fairytale characters actually exist.”

“Well, coming from the land without magic the way she did, I’m sure it was quite unbelievable,” Hook chuckled.

Henry scrutinized him. “Where’s your hook?”

“Alas,” Hook said, raising his left arm slightly, “your mother insisted on taking it from me for fear I would use it to escape.”

“Would you?”

“Of course,” Hook grinned. “I am a pirate, after all.”

“Yep, Captain Hook!” Henry said excitedly. “Have you actually been to Neverland?”

“Aye, spent many a year there.”

“Did you meet Peter Pan?”

“I have,” Hook grimaced. “He’s a bloody demon.”

Henry looked astonished. “He is? But in the movie, Captain Hook is the villain and Peter Pan is the good guy.”

Hook scoffed. “I can assure you, that isn’t true.”

“Why? What did he do that was so…”

“Henry?” Emma called, striding quickly into the station. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mom!” Henry said, rushing over to her. “I came here to find you. Guess what? I got an A+ on my geography test! I even got the extra credit question right!”

“That’s great, kid!” Emma said, wrapping him up in a hug. “I’m very proud of you!”

“I”m the only one in the class that got them all right. Thanks for helping me study.”

“You’re welcome. Now, back to my original question. Why are you here? I thought you were going to be with your dad after school.”

Henry shrugged. “I waited for a while, but he didn’t show up, so I had Grandma bring me here to tell you my news.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Let me see if he sent a message.” She unlocked the device and swiped the screen, her expression changing from concern to anger. “Nothing. I’m going to call him to find out what’s going on. Stay here.”

She went into the inner office and shut the door. Hook and Henry watched her become increasingly animated as she carried on a conversation they couldn’t hear.

“She looks mad, doesn’t she?” Henry asked.

“Aye, that she does,” Hook agreed.

“I don’t think she likes my dad very much. That’s why she lied to me about him dying.”

“She had good intentions, lad. She didn’t want you thinking badly about him when she thought you would never have a chance to meet him.”

“I know. I was really mad at her for a while, but I get it now.”

“I’m very happy you forgave her. She was quite distraught knowing how angry you were about it.”

Emma ended the conversation and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. “I’m sorry, kid. It looks like you’re gonna have to go hang out at the mayor’s office for an hour or so until my shift is over. Regina knows you’re coming.”

“Is my dad okay? Did something happen to him?”

“He’s fine, he just…something came up. He said to tell you he’s sorry and he’ll see you another day.”

Henry’s face fell. “Oh, okay. I won’t get to tell him about my good grade, then.”

  “You can tell him the next time you see him,” Emma soothed.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled.

“Come on. I’ll walk with you,” she said, slinging her arm over his shoulders.

Hook watched them go, silently seething at Bae. He was handed a golden opportunity to get to know his son, but evidently wasn’t putting much effort into it. This was Storybrooke - how could something come up that was more important than collecting his son from school?

Hook was still ruminating on that, when Belle’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hook? Are you okay?”

He mentally shook himself and forced a smile onto his face. “Aye, lass. I’m looking forward to our discussion.”

*********

Belle was on her way out when Emma returned to the station. They exchanged pleasantries, but the smile quickly slipped from her face as she dropped down in her chair.

“Alright there, Swan?” Hook asked.

“I’m fine. Neal is an ass.”

“What was his excuse for not spending time with his boy, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He met someone and was getting ready to go on a date.”

“He met someone? In Storybrooke?” Hook asked with undisguised surprise.

“That’s what I said. Apparently, she’s one of Cinderella’s stepsisters.”

“I heard those two are a bit dense.”

Emma scoffed. “They would have to be, to go out with Neal. That doesn’t say much about me though, does it?”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, Love. You were young, impressionable and alone. I have a feeling he took advantage of that.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. Now he’s making excuses to not see Henry. Hurting me is one thing, but hurting my kid is inexcusable. If he keeps it up, I’m gonna tell him to go back to New York and stay there.”

She stood up and began pacing in front of his cell. After a couple of passes, he reached through the bars to lightly grasp her arm. “Calm down, Swan. You handled the situation and Henry will be okay. Perhaps this will be the only time Bae lets his son down.”

“I wish I could believe that. Unfortunately, he tried to back out on seeing Henry a couple of other times, but I insisted that he keep his promise. A father shouldn’t have to be forced to see his own son.”

“Too right, Love.”

“This is one reason, among many, why I don’t want him around Henry. He’s unreliable and only cares about himself.”

“How does Henry feel about his father?” Hook inquired.

“He seems to like spending time with Neal, but I think the novelty of meeting his dad is wearing off a bit. He’s not as excited to be with him as he was when they first met.”

“I’m sure the boy senses his father isn’t fully committed to him. It’s probably putting a strain on their relationship.”

Emma nodded in agreement. Wrapping her hands around the bars, she looked at him for a few moments before saying, “You made a good impression on him. He talked about you the entire walk over to Regina’s office.”

“He’s a bright lad. I enjoyed my conversation with him.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He’s a good kid, which is amazing, considering what he’s been through.”

“What has he been through?”

“Being given away the day he was born, then being adopted by Regina. She sent him to therapy and tried to make him think he was crazy when he got the storybook and started figuring things out. Once he found me, he had to learn how to deal with two mothers, and now a father who he thought was dead. It’s a lot for a kid his age.”

“He inherited your toughness, lass. You haven’t had an easy life, either.”

She smiled slightly, then sighed. “I better get out on patrol. Thanks for letting me vent. Again. Having you behind bars is convenient when I need a captive audience.”

“I would be there for you even if I weren’t in this cell, Swan.”

Her smile grew. “Thank you, Killian.”

*********

“Ready to go to Granny’s for a shower, Hook?” David asked once they were finished eating the breakfast Ruby delivered.

“Aye, mate,” Hook answered, standing up and stretching.

David unlocked the cell and swung the door open. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I’m sure you are quite capable of asking one,” Hook teased.

“You know what I mean,” David said, rolling his eyes. “Why have you decided not to escape? You’ve had several opportunities.”

Hook waited until they were out of the station and walking toward the boarding house before he answered. “I have my reasons for staying.”

“The dinner you intend to have with Emma?”

“Aye, that’s one reason. Another is the fact I have nowhere else to go. Now that I’ve gotten my revenge, I’m at a loss as to what to do next. This town is as good a place as any to stay, until I decide.”

David was getting ready to respond, when Happy walked past. “Good morning, Sheriff! Good morning, Hook! Great day, isn’t it?” he asked with a huge smile.

Both men greeted him in return, then walked on. They encountered a half dozen more people before they reached the boarding house, all of them calling out a greeting to both the sheriff and the pirate.

“It seems you’ve been accepted as part of Storybrooke, Hook,” David observed. “Everyone says hello when you walk down the street, you have a book club with Belle, Henry thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread, Ruby flirts with you ridiculously when she brings your meals, Granny includes extra goodies in those meals, and Emma…well, she seems to have found a confidant in you.”

Hook digested this assessment, pleased to know Emma’s father noticed the bond they had and didn’t seem to be upset about it. “What about you, Dave?”

“What about me?”

“I’m winning you over, I can feel it,” Hook quipped.

“I, uh, I guess you have grown on me a bit.”

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people.”

They arrived at the boarding house and walked down the hall to the room where Hook always took his shower. “I’m going to get some coffee while I wait. Would you like some?” David asked.

“Of course,” Hook said. “You know my order, mate.”

He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Leaning back against it, he smiled. Perhaps he truly had found a place to belong.

*********

“Today is the day,” Emma announced when she entered the station the morning of Hook’s release.

“Aye, Love,” Hook responded with a grin. He rose from the cot, stretching his arms over his head. “As much as I have enjoyed your hospitality, I am more than ready to regain my freedom.”

She opened a desk drawer, grabbed the keys and held them up. After taking a couple of steps toward the cell, she suddenly stopped and pivoted to go back to the desk.

“Forget something, lass?”

She pulled out another drawer and shuffled through it. “Thought you might want these back,” she said, holding up his oversized hairpin and hook.

Hook hadn’t worn his brace since he’d been locked up. He rummaged under the mattress where he kept it, slipped off his shirt, then slid the straps over his shoulders. When he turned, still attaching the cuff over his stump, he caught Emma ogling him.

“See something you like?”

“Huh?” she asked, her eyes still focused on his exposed chest. “Oh, uh, no. I just haven’t seen…I mean…” Her face was rapidly filling with color.

He chuckled as he began to put his shirt back on. “Why, Swan, have I rendered you speechless?”

Her eyes finally met his, which were sparkling with amusement. ���I just wasn’t expecting to see you half-naked,” she admitted.

She unlocked the cell door and swung it open. After accepting the hairpin from her, he expertly used it to button up half of the shirt, then slipped it into his pocket, smirking as he saw her eyes lingering on his chest again.

“My hook, if you please,” he said, holding out his hand. She handed it to him and watched him lock it into place. “Might I have my coat, also?”

“Yeah, it’s in the closet. Come on.” She turned and led the way toward the front of the station.

He stepped out of the cell and breathed deeply. He may have been let in and out of his cell numerous times since Regina pronounced his sentence, but knowing that this time, he wouldn’t be returning to the small, dank cell felt exceptionally good.

Emma came back into the room, carrying his long, leather duster. “This thing weighs a ton. How the hell do you wear it all the time?”

He took it from her and pulled it on, the weight and creak of the leather a welcome friend to him. “I’ve gotten used to it through the centuries.”

“What are you, like a million years old?”

“More like two hundred.”

They walked out the door, almost bumping into David as he was about to enter. “Ah, that’s right. You’re leaving us today, huh Hook?”

“Aye, mate. I can stop in from time to time to play cards again, if you like.”

Emma looked between them. “You guys played cards with each other?”

David shrugged. “What else was there to do all those hours we were stuck in here together? Hook is a decent poker player. Have you ever seen him shuffle the cards one-handed?”

Emma’s eyes shifted to Hook. “No I haven’t. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

He took a step into her space. “There are numerous things I would like to show you, Swan.”

David cleared his throat. “Don’t make me punch you again.”

Hook chuckled and offered his hand. “It was a pleasure being your prisoner, Dave.”

David grinned as he gave it a firm shake. “I hope you don’t make a habit of it.” Then he went through the door into the station.

“Come on, Killian,” Emma said. “I’ll treat you to breakfast at Granny’s to celebrate your freedom.”

“That’s very kind of you, as long as you’re not considering it to be the meal we agreed upon.”

“You said it was going to be dinner on your ship. Oh, by the way, I’ve been stopping by the harbor every few days to make sure it’s okay.”

“She,” Hook corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“You should refer to my ship as ‘she’, not ‘it’.”

“You make it sound like a woman. It’s just a ship.”

He whirled around and stopped in front of her. “She’s not just a ship; she’s my home. We’ve been through more together than you can even imagine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Emma apologized.

“It’s quite alright,” he said, turning to resume walking. “Thank you for checking on the old girl.”

They arrived at the diner, where they were greeted by Granny, Ruby and a few patrons, including Leroy, who even offered them a hint of a smile.

As they took a seat in one of the empty booths, Ruby approached with the coffee pot and asked, “Same as usual, Hook?”

“Aye, Love,” he answered, flipping the coffee cup upright on the saucer.

“What about you, Sheriff?” Ruby asked as she filled Hook’s cup.

“Pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon,” Emma said, turning over her own cup.

“Same order as Hook’s. You two have similar tastes,” Ruby remarked.

After she walked away, Emma tilted her head and looked at him curiously. He took a slow sip of his coffee, swallowed, then asked, “Something on your mind, Swan?”

“You really have been accepted by the people in this town.”

He sat back in the booth, his fingers fiddling with the spoon laying in front of him. “Is that so surprising?”

“Well, you were in jail for shooting Belle.”

“She’s fully recovered and has forgiven me. Lately, she’s been mentioning a man named Will Scarlett quite frequently.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them around town together. She seems to have moved on from Gold.” Emma took a drink of her coffee before adding, “You, um, you also killed a couple of people.”

“Both of whom were villains who would have killed me first, if given the chance. I believe the townspeople understand that.”

“There must be different rules for people from the Enchanted Forest. In the land without magic, you can’t get away with murder, unless it’s clearly self defense.”

“You think I should have been incarcerated longer?”

“I’m not saying that. In all honesty, the world is a better place without Cora and Gold. I’m just a little surprised that everyone is willing to overlook your crimes to make you one of their own. Even my dad seems to be your…mate,” she said, attempting to imitate his accent.

He shrugged. “It’s nice to know people are willing to give me a chance, but as I’ve said before, there’s only one person whose opinion matters to me.”

Ruby arrived with their meal, interrupting their conversation. Once she walked away, Emma picked up a slice of bacon and raised it to her mouth. Before taking a bite, she quietly said, “I, um, I hope you decide to stay in town.”

Hook froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, a slow smile spreading across his face. As the two of them continued eating their breakfast in companionable silence, he felt a spark of hope that perhaps he was beginning to win Emma Swan’s heart.

*********

As soon as he got back to his ship later that morning, he began planning the dinner he and Emma would share. He wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, and he knew he would need help.

Over the next two days, he visited many shops in town and once he procured everything he required, he made a trip to the sheriff’s station. Striding into the familiar confines, he saw Emma standing at the file cabinet with her back to him.

Quietly walking up behind her, he leaned in and asked, “Did you miss me, Swan?”

She jumped. “Oh my gosh! You scared me!”

“Sorry, Love. I didn’t intend to take you by surprise.”

“It’s okay,” she said, closing the drawer and turning to face him. “What are you doing here? I thought you would want to stay away from this place.”

“I came to invite you to dinner tonight.”

“Tonight? That’s kind of short notice. How do you know I don’t have something to do tonight?”

“I talked to your parents and they said they weren’t aware that you had any plans. Your mother volunteered to take care of Henry for the evening, and David is willing to finish your shift, so you’ll have time to get ready.”

“So, my mom and dad are okay with me having this dinner with you?”

“Aye, so it seems. I told you we were getting along,” he smirked. “What do you say, Love? Will you join me for dinner on my ship?”

“Well, it seems like you have everything covered, so…sure.”

“Excellent! I will be at your door promptly at six o’clock.”

“You don’t have to pick me up. I can drive over to the docks…”

“Nonsense,” Hook said firmly, cutting her off. “A gentleman would never allow a lady to transport herself to their date.”

“Wait - you’re considering this a date?” Emma asked.

He was confused. “That was our agreement, was it not?”

“You just said dinner. You never used the term ‘date’.”

His heart sank a little. “Does that change things?”

To his surprise, she took a step forward and rubbed her hand down his arm. “No, it’s fine. I’ll still have dinner with you. How should I dress for this…date?”

“It promises to be a clear night with a chill in the air. Since we’ll be dining on the deck, I would advise you to dress warmly.”

“Got it. I guess I’ll see you at six o’clock then.”

He gave her a crooked grin, then turned to leave the station. He still had a lot of preparation left for his date with the fair Lady Swan.

*********

Hook straightened the left cuff on his new, leather jacket, which had a convenient zipper allowing it to fit over his brace. He had thought about handing her one of the dozen red roses from the arrangement he purchased as soon as she opened the door, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her with such a romantic gesture.

After taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he raised his hook to rap on the door. He only had to wait a few moments until Emma swung it open. He was very glad he had taken that deep breath, because gazing at the vision before him, he was having trouble breathing at all.

She was dressed in form fitting, black jeans, knee-high black boots with a heel, and a dark blue, hip-length coat, embellished with colorful flower appliqués running from shoulder to shoulder. Her thick, blonde hair draped loosely over her shoulders, creating a lovely contrast against the inky color of the coat.

The somewhat nervous smile on her face disappeared as she surveyed him, her eyes growing wide and her jaw dropping. He was sure she had been expecting him to wear his usual pirate attire, so seeing him in modern clothes had to be a shock.

“Swan,” he breathed, “you look…stunning.”

“You…look…”

“I know,” he smirked.

She smiled genuinely and called over her shoulder, “I’m leaving!”

“Oh, wait!” He heard Emma’s mother call. Then she came bouncing into the room with a strange contraption in her hands. She stood in front of Hook and Emma, held it up and pushed a button. It made an odd whirring sound, then a thick square of paper came out of a slot in the front.

“Pictures? Really?” Emma sighed. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

Mary Margaret waved the square around in the air. “It’s the first of your dates I’ve ever gotten to witness,” she explained. “I want to commemorate it.”

Just then, Henry came bounding down the stairs two at a time. “Hey, Hook!” he greeted, then pulled up short. “What happened to your pirate clothes?”

“Now that I’m living in the modern world, I decided I should dress to fit into it,” Hook responded, looking down at his new outfit.

“Oh,” Henry said, clearly disappointed. “So you’re not a pirate anymore?”

Hook chuckled. “I’ll always be a pirate, lad.”

“Mom says she’s having dinner with you on your ship.”

“That’s right.”

“When can I see your ship?”

“You’re welcome aboard anytime, as long as it’s alright with your mother.”

Henry turned to Emma. “Can I, Mom?” he asked excitedly.

Emma shot Hook a quick look before answering, “As long as you listen to Hook and do what he tells you. And as long as it’s okay with Regina.”

Henry’s face fell. “She probably won’t let me. I don’t think she likes Hook very much.”

“Henry!” Emma and Mary Margaret exclaimed at the same time.

Hook just chuckled. “She probably doesn’t, but to be fair, she’s not fond of most people.”

“That’s true,” Henry said, nodding his head.

“We better get going,” Emma said. After giving Henry a hug, she pulled on some black gloves. “Ready, Killian?”

“Aye, Love,” he said, opening the door for her. “Goodbye, lad. Goodbye, milady. Have a good evening.” Mary Margaret took another picture, causing Emma to roll her eyes.

Hook followed Emma into the hallway, closing the door behind himself. As they were descending the stairs, David came through the outside door. “Leaving already?” he asked. “I was hoping to be home by the time Hook arrived.”

“Don’t worry, Mom took pictures,” Emma assured him.

David eyed Hook. “I want her home by midnight.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Emma exploded. “I don’t need a curfew. I’m not a teenager!”

“You’re still my little girl and he’s still a pirate.”

“He’s also your card playing buddy, and I can take care of myself,” Emma snapped. “Come on, Killian. Let’s go before he decides I should wear a chastity belt.”

“Now that you mention it…” David began.

Emma grabbed Hook’s hand and forcibly pulled him out the door.

Once they were out on the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street. “Did you walk here?”

“I don’t have any other mode of transportation. It’s a lovely evening, but if you prefer to drive…”

“Walking is fine with me.”

He offered his elbow, she threaded her arm through it, and they started off down the sidewalk. As they passed various shops, they peered through the windows, commenting on the contents. When they walked past Gold’s Pawn Shop, with a ‘closed permanently’ sign on the door, Hook remarked, “Belle told me she plans to open the shop to the public soon, so everyone can claim what is rightfully theirs.”

“That’s nice of her,” Emma commented.

They continued on in silence for several steps, until Hook quietly said, “She told me he still has my…my hand in a jar in the back of the shop.”

Emma snapped her head around to look at him. “You’re kidding! That…that’s really morbid.”

“Aye,” he agreed simply.

They walked on a bit further. “Maybe…” Emma began thoughtfully.

When she didn’t continue, Hook asked, “What’s on your mind, Swan?”

“I do have magic. Maybe I could…reattach it?”

He stopped and turned to face her. “You would be willing to do that?”

“Of course. I can’t guarantee it would work, but I don’t think it would hurt to try. That is, if you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, and I fully believe you can do it. You proved how powerful your magic is at Lake Nostos.”

“If it does work, what will everyone call you? Captain Hand?”

“Killian will do,” he said with a shake of his head.

Emma took his arm again and they resumed walking. “I’ll talk to Belle tomorrow,” she promised.

“Thank you, Love,” Hook said, past a lump in his throat. After centuries without his hand, the thought that he could soon have it back made him a bit emotional.

When they were within sight of the docks, Hook steered them down a side street. “Where are we going?” Emma asked.

“I ordered food from Tony’s and told him I would pick it up on our way. I want it to be piping hot when we eat.”

“Tony’s, huh? I’ve heard about that restaurant, but I haven’t eaten there.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

“Sure, who doesn’t? Besides, I like that it’s not Granny’s.”

He laughed. “Lady Lucas has tasty food, but I thought you deserved something different tonight.”

After picking up his order, they covered the remaining distance quickly. Emma was sniffing the air with a smile on her face. “Oh my god, that smells so good!”

They arrived at the pier and Hook gestured for her to precede him up the gangplank. She came to a stop as soon as she stepped onto the deck, taking in the sight before her.

Hook had set up a square table, flanked by two chairs. It was covered with a red tablecloth and had a huge bouquet of red roses sitting in the middle, surrounded by fine china plates, silverware, and crystal wine glasses. An ice bucket containing a bottle of wine was on one corner. Lit lanterns were scattered around the deck, each one creating a halo of soft light.

“Wow,” Emma uttered. “You really went all out.”

“Nothing but the best for you, Love.”

She gave him a grateful look, then walked over to the table, bending to smell the roses. “They’re beautiful.”

He moved to join her. “So are you, Emma,” he said sincerely.

He could tell she wasn’t sure how to respond to his sentiment, so he set the large brown bag of food down and pulled out a chair for her. Withdrawing the box containing breadsticks, he set it in front of her, then picked up a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine. While he was pouring the burgundy liquid, she opened the box, taking out a mouthwatering breadstick. Biting into it, she moaned at the taste.

They enjoyed their dinner and the easy conversation accompanying it. After consuming their plates of pasta and meatballs, he reached into the sack and pulled out one final box containing tiramisu.

“I didn’t think I could eat another bite, but I’ll make room for that,” Emma said, eyeing the dessert with undisguised eagerness.

“I’ve never tried it, but it came highly recommended,” Hook explained.

They ate the rich cake, uttering expressions of delight as they savored it.

Once the meal was finished, Hook noticed Emma beginning to shiver. “Cold, Love?” he inquired.

“Just a little chilly,” she replied, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, heading toward the ladder leading below deck. He returned with a blanket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, grasping the edges and pulling it tightly around herself.

He put his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the bow. “I’m happy it’s clear this evening,” he said, pointing at the sky with his hook. “I’ve always loved gazing at the stars, even before I became a sailor.”

“There were stars all the way back then?” she teased.

“Curses and Neverland may have given me experience, but as you can see, I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

She scoffed lightly, then turned her attention to the sky. “Is it true that sailors use the stars to navigate?”

“Among other things.”

“The only constellation I can find is the Big Dipper,” she admitted.

As Hook began pointing out the various star configurations, she leaned back against him, her head on his shoulder while she scanned the sky. Wanting to keep her there as long as possible, he began regaling her with myths related to each constellation.

When he became quiet, she breathed, “Tonight has been very nice, Killian.”

“Aye, it has.”

She turned to face him, slowly running her hands up his chest. “I like your new clothes. They suit you.”

“Thank you, Love. They may take some getting used to, after centuries of wearing my leather trousers and duster.”

“You don’t plan to stop wearing your pirate garb altogether, do you?” she asked, her fingers caressing the lapels of his jacket.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you saying you would miss it if I did?”

“Maybe,” she said coyly, ducking her head to look up at him through her lashes.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, putting his hand and hook on her hips to pull her a bit closer, “you say the word and I’ll wear them anytime you want.”

“Just for me?”

“Aye,” he affirmed.

“Good,” she whispered, then tugged on his lapels, bringing his lips to hers.

His surprise quickly turned to pleasure. The blanket around her shoulders slid to the deck as he ran his hand up her back to tangle in her hair. He swiped his tongue across her lips, tasting a hint of wine and garlic. She opened to him and he eagerly accepted her invitation.

  Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, drawing in quick breaths when necessary. To his great delight, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end it. Their tongues explored, while their hands roamed, fingers teasing any skin they encountered.

When their lips finally separated, Emma rested her forehead against his. Neither of them spoke as the heavy breaths they were taking mingled between them.

“That was…unexpected,” Hook murmured.

“Yeah, for me, too,” Emma concurred. “I wasn’t planning to do that, I just…”

“Couldn’t resist my charm?”

She took a step back and peered up into his face, her fingers still toying with the hair curling behind his ears. “Something like that.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but when she opened her mouth to do so, she seemed to have second thoughts and began to pull away from his embrace.

“Hey, talk to me,” he urged.

She sighed. “I don’t…I don’t know if I want to be in…a relationship. I’m not good at them.”

“Perhaps you simply haven’t met the right person yet.”

“And you think that person is you?”

He looked deeply into her eyes, radiating sincerity as he spoke. “I never thought I would be capable of letting go of my first love…of my Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is, until I met you.”

Her jaw dropped and she blinked rapidly. “Are you…are you saying that you…”

“Love you? Aye, that’s what I’m saying. You have captured my heart, Emma Swan - a heart that has been hardened for more years than I care to admit.” As she opened her mouth to speak, he added quickly, “I realize you aren’t ready to return my sentiments, but if you give me a chance, I believe I will eventually win your heart. Not through any trickery, but because you want me.”

“Killian, I…” she began. Wrapping her arms around herself, she bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes, clearly reeling from his confession.

“Emma, I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Please don’t pull away from me.”

She raised her eyes to meet his once again. He held his breath as she studied him, then felt a thrill of hope when she leaned in to press a brief kiss to his lips. “Be patient,” she requested.

“I have all the time in the world.”

*********

After walking Emma home and enjoying another languid kiss outside her door, Hook went back to his ship and cleared away the remains of dinner, returned the table, chairs and lanterns to their rightful places and retired to his quarters.

Lying in his bunk, his mind replayed the events of the night. Dinner went as he had hoped, and the time they spent in conversation was extremely enjoyable. He hadn’t planned to admit his feelings, but her kiss took him completely by surprise and brought those feelings bubbling to the surface where he couldn’t suppress them.

If he had to pinpoint the moment when he realized he had fallen in love with her, it was when she came to the station and told him Henry’s reaction to finding out about his father. The way she trusted him when she hadn’t even wanted to tell her own parents, and released him from the cell so he could comfort her, gave him hope that he was breaking down the walls she built around her heart. Then when she used his given name, his love for her was solidified.

He hoped she wouldn’t have regrets when she thought about their evening together. He certainly didn’t. Touching his lips, he smiled, then closed his eyes and went to sleep, dreaming of the lovely Emma Swan.

*********

Hook was polishing the railings of the Jolly Roger late the next morning, when he saw Emma’s yellow contraption quickly approaching. Laying the cloth and jar of polish aside, he disembarked and met her as she was opening the door.

“Hey,” she greeted breathlessly. “I just talked to Belle. She wants me to bring you to the pawn shop right away so I can try to reattach your hand.”

His heart began to race. He had absolute faith in Emma, so he knew that after more than two hundred years, he was within minutes of having his hand restored.

Climbing into the passenger seat, he watched her maneuver the car the short distance through the streets, neither of them speaking. He was sure she was nervous about using her magic and he didn’t want to say anything to put more pressure on her.

Once she parked in front of the pawn shop, she cut the engine and looked over at him. “You want this, right? Henry might not think you’re quite as cool without your hook,” she teased.

He could tell she was trying to lighten the mood. “He can see it whenever he’s on my ship,” he chuckled.

She blew out a heavy sigh. “Alright then, let’s go,” she said, opening the car door, as he did the same.

Belle met them outside the shop, unlocked the door and led them inside. “Wait here. I’ll go in the back and get the jar,” she said.

Hook noticed Emma was anxiously wringing her hands. He went to her and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t fret, Swan. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be no worse off.”

Belle came through the thick curtain carrying a large, glass jar containing clear liquid and a human hand. Hook glanced at Emma and saw her swallow hard as she looked at it.

“Why would he keep it all of these years?” she asked.

“Probably to remind himself that he should have finished the job and killed me to get what he wanted. He cut it off to get the magic bean he thought I was holding, but when he wasn’t looking, I slipped it into my pocket. I’m sure he wasn’t happy when he discovered I tricked him.”

He stepped closer to the counter where Belle set the jar. Carefully turning it around, he got a lump in his throat remembering that fateful day when he lost so much more than his hand.

He didn’t hear Emma move to stand beside him, until she spoke quietly. “Are you alright, Killian?”

“Aye.” His voice was gruff with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Aye, Love. I just didn’t think there was a chance of ever having it back.”

“It will take powerful magic to reattach it,” Belle stated.

“Emma is bloody brilliant wielding her magic,” Hook said proudly. “She’s the only person I’ve ever seen who repelled Cora’s attempt to take her heart.”

“Rumple always said that magic isn’t an intellectual endeavor,” Belle said. “It’s emotional. You have to ask yourself, why am I doing this? Who am I protecting?”

“Like you did when you restored the waters of Lake Nostos,” Hook said. “You were thinking of how much you wanted to get back to your son and father.”

Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied the macabre sight of the hand floating in the formaldehyde. Finally, she locked eyes with him. “Are you ready to do this?”

“I am if you are, Swan.”

She closed her eyes tightly and held her right hand over the top of the jar. Hook watched her intently as her face became a mask of grim determination. Then she slowly moved her hand in a circle three times, thrusting it toward him at the end of the final rotation.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could do it, but he hadn’t known what kind of sensation to expect when his hand was back in its proper place. A tingling began at his shoulder, moving down his bicep to his elbow, then his forearm, wrist, and all the way to his…fingertips!

“You did it, Love!” he exclaimed, turning his reattached hand this way and that, while flexing his fingers.

Her eyes popped open, widening when she saw him holding up his hand in front of himself.

“Oh, Emma!” Belle exclaimed, giving a happy little clap. “How wonderful! I’m so happy for you, Hook!”

“I don’t believe you can call me that anymore, Love,” Killian said gleefully.

“No, I suppose I can’t,” Belle agreed. “What shall I call you, then?”

“My given name is Killian.”

“Killian it is,” she said, smiling brightly.

His eyes turned back to Emma, who was staring at her own hand, apparently in disbelief that it was capable of such powerful magic. Stepping forward, he captured her right hand with his left one.

She blinked rapidly before stammering, “I…I d-did it.”

“You’re a bloody marvel,” he praised. Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, Love.”

“I, um…I need to get back to the library,” Belle cut in. “The door is locked. Please close it tightly when you leave.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried out of the shop.

“I can’t believe I did it,” Emma said, seemingly unaware of the other woman’s departure.

“I knew you would,” Killian assured her.

She finally dragged her eyes up to meet his. “You really did have faith in me, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” he said simply. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What were you thinking when you did it?”

“Honestly? I…I was thinking about how important you are to me. You helped me get back to Henry from the Enchanted Forest and protected me from Gold to bring me back from New York. You listen when I need a sounding board and offer me good advice. You…you have become my best friend and I desperately wanted to help you by giving you the thing you want the most.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he said, wrapping a strand of her golden hair around his finger.

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely happy to have my hand back,” he said. “But the thing I want most isn’t having it restored. I could have gone on living without it, if necessary. However, I couldn’t go on without you. You’re the most brilliant, beautiful, mesmerizing woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Do you really mean that?”

“Every word.” Taking another step into her space, he murmured, “And I am bloody grateful that now I have more than one hand to hold you with, if you’ll allow me.”

In answer, she closed the remaining distance between them, pressing her damp cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of caressing her with both hands.

*********

When he and Emma walked down the sidewalk together the next day, she surprised him by taking his left hand and holding it all the way to Granny’s. The fact that she didn’t seem bothered by being seen showing signs of affection toward him made his heart beat faster with hope that she was beginning to have the same feelings for him that he already expressed for her.

With Emma and Regina’s permission, Henry began spending quite a bit of time learning the basics of sailing with Killian. One Saturday afternoon, he took his ship into the open water beyond the harbor with Emma and Henry aboard, so the boy could show his mother all he had learned. Killian wasn’t sure which of the three of them was the proudest.

It didn’t take long for word to get around town that Captain Hook was now a man without a hook. Townspeople smiled broadly as they greeted him as ‘Killian’ and received a smile just as bright in return. As time passed, he became more and more comfortable, and everyone welcomed him as a fellow citizen of Storybrooke.

David no longer showed any resistance toward the pirate dating his daughter. In fact, the two men were actually becoming the best of friends. Killian was often a dinner guest at the loft, being invited by Mary Margaret the majority of the time. The conversation around the table was always lively and filled with laughter. Afterwards, the four adults and Henry played card games until it was time for the boy to go to bed. Killian thoroughly enjoyed the time with Emma and her family.

As the weeks went by, he and Emma went on several more dates. Whether it was on his ship, at a restaurant or strolling around town, Killian couldn’t get enough of spending time with the woman he loved more deeply every day.

One evening, after having dinner with Emma, Mary Margaret and David while Henry was at Regina’s, Killian retired to his ship. He had just shrugged out of his leather jacket and was removing his vest in his quarters when he heard footsteps on the deck above. Grabbing a cutlass, he started up the ladder to confront the intruder. Before he reached the top, he heard Emma softly calling his name.

Without taking time to return the weapon downstairs, he completed his ascent and emerged through the hatch. “Hello, Love,” he greeted.

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the cutlass he was holding. “Planning on stabbing someone?”

He looked down at it, then back up at her. “A man must always be prepared when he is protecting his ship,” he explained. “What brings you here at this hour?”

She stepped forward boldly, pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and whispered, “You,” before kissing the holy hell out of him.

The cutlass hit the deck with a clatter as he wrapped his arms around her and eagerly reciprocated. When she finally took a breath, it was to utter, “Show me your quarters, Captain.”

He blinked in surprise, then an alluring smile crossed his face. “As you wish.”

After quickly descending the ladder, he stood below it to ensure Emma’s safety as she followed him down. She glanced around the shadowy hallway, lit only by two dim lanterns hanging on the wall.

“This way, milady,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door he left open in his haste.

She walked into his room, once again peering around the cabin. “So, this is your home, huh?”

“Aye, for more years than I care to admit.”

“You are pretty ancient,” she teased, winding her arms around his neck. “But hopefully not too ancient for what I have in mind.”

His brows rose on their own accord, even though he had already deduced her purpose for being there. Still, he didn’t want to assume anything, so he asked, “And just what do you have in mind, Swan?”

She kissed him chastely, then murmured against his lips, “I want to make love…to the man I love.”

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly. You won my heart, Killian…and I want to share every other part of me with you.”

He dove in for another kiss, then moved his lips down her throat as he hummed, “I love you, Emma.”

It had been many long years since he was with a woman, his mind more focused on finding the crocodile once Regina’s curse was cast. At this moment, he was glad he abstained all that time. It would make his first time with Emma all the more special.

He could feel the rising pressure against the zipper of his jeans as he continued licking and nibbling the soft skin below her ear. His hands pushed her red leather jacket off of her shoulders and she allowed her arms to slide out of it. Once it was in a heap on the floor, his hands moved to begin toying with the buttons of her blouse, while her hands went to work on his belt.

Their movements were purposeful, and soon more clothes were on the floor. Killian scanned down Emma’s body, now clad in only her bra and panties. “You are absolutely, bloody gorgeous, my love,” he rasped through a throat clogged with emotion.

“So are you,” she returned, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his bare abs. She had disposed of his shirt and belt, and unzipped his pants. Now, she pushed at the waistband, encouraging him to remove them. He accommodated her immediately, then pulled her to him for another round of passionate kisses. She gasped into his mouth when she felt his stiffening member pressing against her.

As his hands traced up her back, he encountered the band of her brassiere and froze momentarily.

“It unhooks,” she mumbled, then giggled. “You shouldn’t have any problem with hooks.”

Her giggles turned to moans when he proved her right and began squeezing her breasts as soon as they were free. Then his mouth moved to explore her nipples, first licking them, then gently tugging at them with his teeth.

It was his turn to moan when her hands slid down inside his boxers and began fondling his ass. He wrapped his arms around her and easily lifted her into his arms. As he carried her toward his bunk, her legs encircled him, her ankles crossing at the small of his back.

Gently lowering her to the mattress, he looked down at her, his breath catching when she locked eyes with him. The love he could see shining in them was unmistakeable. He removed his underwear, then slid hers down her legs. The next several highly pleasurable moments were spent exploring each other’s naked form with their hands, fingers and lips.

Killian was even more grateful to have both hands as he used them to stroke, tease and arouse the beautiful woman beneath him. She moaned as she writhed under his ministrations, widening her legs as he neared her most intimate place.

He took that as permission to slide his fingers through her sodden folds, his thumb finding her clit at the same time. “Killiannn,” she gasped.

“Tell me what you want, Love,” he requested, his breath hot against her left breast.

She didn’t answer right away and he could tell she was hesitant to voice her desires. Moving his mouth up her body, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t be afraid to tell me exactly how you want me to pleasure you, Emma.”

He felt her draw in a shaky breath. “Use your fingers to…get me ready.”

Nodding, he decided to probe a bit more. “Just my fingers?”

She hesitated again. “And…your mouth?”

“Aye, Love. I can do that.” His lips found hers as his fingers found her center, his tongue thrusting into her mouth while first one, then two fingers did the same down below. He paused his kisses to ask, “Can you take more?”

“Mmhmm,” she affirmed and was promptly filled with a third digit. He licked and kissed his way down her body, as she rode his fingers. Curling them inside her, seeking that spot, he simultaneously sucked hard on a nipple. She cried out and shuddered against him, her walls clamping tightly around his digits. He continued stroking her as he adjusted his position, then he wrapped his lips around her clit, using his tongue to toy with it.

“Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed, her thighs tightening around his head. His hands found her hips, holding her steady as he licked her slit to taste her arousal. His gaze slid up her body to see her fingers plucking at her nipples, her eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure.

The combination of what he was seeing, tasting and feeling made his cock almost painfully hard. He began to rub it against her calf and heard her mumble something. Pulling away from her a bit, he asked, “What did you say, Love?”

“I…I want you inside me.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. Quickly straddling her, he leaned down to kiss her, knowing she would taste herself on his tongue. As she let out a surprised gasp, he lined himself up and slowly began entering her.

After becoming a pirate, Killian accepted the fact that he had very little chance of getting to Heaven, but at this moment, he felt like he was there. Her sheath wrapped around him and drew him in until he was fully engulfed in her heat.

He rested his forehead on hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them. Opening his eyes, they connected with the sparkling jade of hers. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I love you, too.”

Pushing up to rest on his forearms, he began moving his hips languidly, sliding almost out, then back in again. Emma wrapped her legs around him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The pace quickened and sounds of slapping skin, moans, curses and panting breaths filled the air.

Killian felt the tell-tale tingle at the base of his spine, signifying his impending orgasm. Wanting to ensure Emma reached her peak first, he reached between them and rubbed his thumb over her swollen clit. The result was instantaneous. She cried out his name, tightening her legs around him and digging her fingers into his shoulders almost painfully.

He followed her over the edge, his body shuddering with his release. Moving his hands to grip her shapely buttocks, he rolled them over so she was resting on top of him. They lay without speaking, as their breathing returned to normal and their bodies cooled.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked quietly, the fingers of both hands moving lazily up and down her back. Gods, he was so happy he was able to use both hands.

“Yeah,” she answered simply.

“Your parents won’t wonder where you are?”

“I’m pretty sure they knew where I was going and the reason for it.”

“And your father didn’t want to come along and threaten to kill me?”

“Why would he want to kill his best friend?” she laughed, lifting her head to look into his face. Her fingers moved to brush some strands of hair away from his brows. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

She lay her head back down on his chest. “I love you, Killian,” she murmured into his skin.

“And I, you, Emma.”

After several more minutes, they finally moved to clean themselves up and Killian donned the flannel sleep pants he’d grown fond of while he was incarcerated. Emma stealthily snagged his shirt from the floor and slipped it on, earning a nod of approval and eyebrow wag from her pirate.

They settled into bed together and soon found a comfortable position. His arms held her snugly against his side, while her fingers toyed with the charms on his silver chain. “Goodnight, Killian,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Goodnight, Love. Sweet dreams.” His lips pressed against the crown of her head repeatedly. Within minutes, he heard her breathing even out and he knew she was asleep.

He remained awake for some time, thinking about everything that happened to bring him to this moment. The woman he held in his arms bested him not once, but twice. If anyone else had done that to the fearsome Captain Hook, it would have meant their death. Instead, Emma captured his heart and made him want to be a better man - one who was worthy of her love.

For dozens of decades, he thought getting his revenge on Rumplestiltskin was all that was left for him and that once he did, his life would be complete. However, attaining that revenge was only a footnote in his story now. Circumstances he never would have imagined brought him to this place that he now called home, where he had friends and was happier than he could remember being for a very, very long time.

Most importantly, he was in love with a brave, beautiful, fierce, passionate lass who, wonder of wonders, loved him in return. He would never understand what he did to deserve that privilege.

Tightening his arms around her sleeping form, he began drifting off himself, knowing that when he awakened in the morning, the first thing he would see would be Emma Swan, her green eyes shining with love for him.

*********

Thank you all very much for reading. I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate, and a great New Year, hopefully full of lots of new CS content!

Tagging:

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[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