#cs fic

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: the reason birds can fly

the story: the reason birds can fly by philthestone

genuinely i sometimes wonder if i am the only person who has read this little gem of a fic. canon-divergent post-s5 finale and an absolute delight of absurdity and ... reality from Henry Mills' POV as he heads to college after everything he has survived.

the binding: sewn boards paperback legal quarto. designed to look like an american school kid's composition notebook. took me ages to line up the notebook lines and then they didn't print that way so i had to trim it pretty much by hand using a guillotine. speckle design from stock imagery printed on sparkle HTV. modified spine with bookcloth, no backing, to give it that rounded feeling. in retrospect, i might have made a few different choices; if i ever print it again i might try black kraft paper with white sparkle HTV so the feeling of negative space is different. but this bind has been in progress over a year and i'm happy just to be holding it in my hand.

yes, the first page is on the wrong page. yes, i (mostly) did that on purpose. lol.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (2/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest I'm sorry this Part Two took a little longer to get to you than I'd planned, but I hope you'll find it worth the wait! Again, it was lovely being your CS Secret Santa!! I hope you have a wonderful 2025!!

For the rest of my readers, I started over with my Curious Crew Tag List (which I typically do at the first of the year). Although I'm pretty sure I've added everyone who told me to date that they wished to be added, if I missed you (SORRY) or you wish to be added, please let me know!!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition square for the CS Winter Bingo!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Part Two

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma clinked her mimosa against the glasses of her family and friends then settled onto the sofa next to her brother. Taking a sip of the bubbly beverage, she perused the room and let the early morning alcohol warm her from the inside as the fireplace beside her took care of the outside.

Much as Killian had done for her last night.

Shaking off that thought - and the remnants of the dreams she’d had where he’d kept her warm in other ways - Emma tucked her legs beneath her and gave Liam her attention as he passed out the gifts.

The couples tended to exchange gifts with one another in private before they met as a group, and Emma imagined this year was no different. The gifts Liam was handing out were the ones each of them had brought for a specific member of their group. Every Thanksgiving they drew names at random so each person only had to buy something for one other person. Then, Christmas morning, they would all open their gifts and reveal who had bought for whom.

Emma was grateful that she did not have to buy something for everyone, but she did not enjoy the fact that they opened the gifts one at a time while the rest of the group watched, making the person unwrapping the center of attention.

Well, the person unwrapping and the person who had gifted it.

“David, I love it!” Elsa praised with a laugh, holding up the lightweight sweatshirt for everyone to see.

Printed across the front in bold lettering, it read: No. I don’t need a coat. The cold doesn’t bother me.

“That’s perfect,” Liam chortled, already tearing his gift open.

And around the room they went. After Elsa was Liam, then Kristoff, then Anna, who Emma had drawn and gifted a pair of boots she’d known her cousin had been wanting. When Anna was finally done gushing over them, Emma began to open her gift.

“So… who will I be thanking for this…” She’d gotten the rest of the paper off and the lid to the box open when her words fell away as she looked over the myriad of items within.

“It’s a, uh...” Killian cleared his throat and pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear as he went on to explain. “It’s a sort of… winter stake-out care package, I guess is what you’d call it.”

Emma began lifting the items out of the box as Killian described them and the thought process behind his selecting each one.

“I’d noticed earlier this month when we all got together for that holiday festival that you needed a new beanie,” he said as she slipped the hunter green beanie onto her head and then pulled out a pair of soft gloves. “Now, I know you don’t tend to wear gloves on a stake-out because they get in the way of you taking photos or making notes on your phone, but with these you can slip the individual fingertips off so your hands can stay warm while you still have use of your finger pads.”

Emma tested them out whilst he explained their function, loving the ease with which she could quickly bare her thumbs and fingertips. They would certainly come in handy, as would the next item.

“A portable electric kettle,” Killian informed the group when more than one of them had murmured an inquiry about the item in question. “You just add water and plug it into the cigarette lighter in your vehicle and it’ll boil in less than 90 seconds. It also serves as a thermos once you’ve heated the water.” Killian lifted his chin in a pointed gesture and added, “There’s some hot cocoa packets and instant coffee in there as well.”

“This is…” Emma began, somewhat at a loss of what to say.

“Do you like it?”

Emma’s eyes jumped to Killian’s which were filled with a hesitant anticipation; his brows furrowed as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I do,” she answered, smiling softly at him. “This was all so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Swan,” he replied, a bright smile adorning his lips as he let out a heavy breath of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary Margaret elbow David in the ribs. No doubt it was an attempt to keep whatever snide comment he had at the ready about her occupation from falling out of his mouth. Emma knew her brother did not approve of her line of work. In truth, most of them didn’t. The only one who never gave her a hard time about it, who never questioned her abilities or capability, who only ever asked about it out of genuine curiosity and interest, and without an ulterior motive to somehow diminish her success or exaggerate the dangers, was Killian.

Emma tried to focus on the remaining gifts being opened by the rest of their group, but her mind kept circling back to her own. The way Killian had noticed the state of her beanie and how he inherently knew and understood the reason why she tended to not wear gloves, despite her having the opposite reaction to the cold from her cousin.

The cold did bother her. It always had.

The contrast of her and Elsa’s response to it had always been a source of amusement within their circle. As evidenced by David’s gift to Elsa and past comments made regarding the issue. It struck Emma, in that moment, that Killian had never taken her objection to the cold lightly. From the beginning, he had always made sure she was comfortable. Warm. Content.

Like last night. Like many times before. Like with his gift. Making sure she’d be warm and comfortable during the long, wintery nights whilst on a stake-out. The way he’d made sure she was warm that night. The night in the Caribbean when a cool ocean breeze had met her damp skin - sweat soaked from dancing in a crush of people - and she’d shivered, her slip of a dress, which left little to the imagination, unable to combat the chill as goosebumps erupted over her entire body.

She could still feel the soft fabric of Killian’s jacket around her shoulders, the warmth it transferred from his body to hers, his scent lingering on the collar and intoxicating her sinuses in the same way the rum had infused their blood. The memory of the heat of his hand, pressing against the small of her back as he walked her to her cabin made Emma shift in her seat, as did the whisper of his hot breath against her neck when she recalled the words he’d murmured into her ear.

“I’ll keep you warm, love. Just say the word and I’ll make you burn until morning. It would be both our pleasure, I swear it.”

He had been good to his word.

So, so good.

“Who's ready for breakfast?”

Mary Margaret’s inquiry, which signaled the end of the gift giving portion of the day, shook Emma from her thoughts. Her highly inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts that had caused her cheeks to grow hot and blush pink; a fact she hoped no one had noticed.

“You look a bit flushed, Swan,” Killian commented on their way to the dining room - much to Emma’s mortification. “I guess my gifts are doing their job.”

Unable to meet his eye, Emma swiped the new beanie off her head and peeled the gloves off her hands. “Yep. I’m nice and toasty now. Thanks.”

“Anytime, love,” he replied in a deep, quiet timbre. Was she imagining the mixture of promise and longing in his words? Was he merely being his usual cheeky self, or was he reminding her of all the ways they could produce heat together… and his willingness to explore them with her?

“Who needs a refill?” Elsa offered, holding up the bottle of champagne and the pitcher of orange juice.

“Me!” Emma responded, hurrying towards the island with her champagne flute and receiving the first of many, many refills she’d imbibe that day.

~/~

This was a bad idea. No, it was a great idea, but it was also, potentially, a very, very bad idea.

It had been Anna’s idea. Which wasn’t the reason it was a bad one. It was actually a really good one. After a long day of cooking and drinking and eating and games and drinking and cleaning and drinking, her cousin had suggested they end the evening with a soak in the hot tub.

Which was a terrific idea, except… wearing nothing but her bikini, in a hot tub, with Killian Jones, also in his swimsuit, with his hair curling from the steam and water droplets clinging to his chest hair and pooling in the hollow of his throat while she - and the rest of them - continued to polish off the bottles of champagne that never seemed to end was a very, very bad idea.

But when had a bad idea ever stopped her before?

Especially when said bad idea had actually crossed her mind days before when she’d packed her bag. More specifically, the tiny, red, string bikini she’d worn during their cruise vacation. But no, she absolutely did not choose to pack this particular bikini because she remembered the look on Killian’s face and the hunger in his eyes when he saw her in it the first time on the pool deck. The same hunger that was threatening to devour her from a darkened, forget-me-not gaze across the hot tub.

Okay, maybe she did pack this particular bikini on purpose with this particular scenario in mind.

The idea wasn’t the only thing that was bad. Emma was also being bad. Very, very bad. And she wanted to do bad things. Very, very bad things with the man she found herself alone in the hot tub with after all their family and friends had decided to turn in about an hour after they’d first all got in.

“D’you wanna stay inna bit longer or turn in,” Killian asked with a heavy tongue from all the alcohol he’d consumed over the course of the day.

The same amount that was currently coursing through her veins and causing her to want to act on her very, very bad ideas.

“Prolly should turn in,” she replied in an equally tipsy tone. “M’ry Marget wants to head out early for after Kissmas shopping.”

Another loathsome tradition, but one Emma complied with for her sister-in-law’s sake. She wasn’t much for bargain hunting, but she knew what the bonding time together meant to the woman who had married into a sisterhood (despite Elsa and Anna actually being Emma’s cousins) after being an only child all her life and an orphan for the greater part of it.

“Right then,” Killian said, standing from where he’d been lounging in the corner and offering her a hand up. “We should get you to bed, love.”

Taking his hand, Emma stood, then immediately lost her footing and fell into his wet, firm chest. His arms circled her waist, his inebriation making him a bit clumsy and the slickness of their skin causing one of his hands to inadvertently land a bit too low. Palming her ass cheek may have been an accident, but the way his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he prompted her hips forward was not.

Nor was the way she responded, bringing herself flush against him as their lips, teeth and tongues met with fervor. He groaned into her mouth when she raked her nails down his back, then reached up and wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he breathed, the much needed air secondary to the words he seemed desperate to convey.

“I want you, too,” she told him before suddenly finding herself in his arms, being carried out of the hot tub and into the cabin. After setting her down by the dying embers of the fire, he grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around her.

“I’m gonna shut off the hot tub and close things up,” he informed her. “Wait for me in our room?”

Emma nodded, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she headed for the stairs. Glancing back over her shoulder, she giggled at the way he hurriedly - and drunkenly - took care of the tasks so he could follow after her. He didn’t keep her waiting long. No sooner had she finished drying off - still clad in her bikini, so not completely dry - and taking her hair down from the high bun she’d pulled it into so it would stay out of the water, than he came through the door like a man on a mission.

His mission, it seemed, was to pick up where they’d left off. In less than a second she was back in his arms, their hands indulging in the vast expanse of exposed skin while their mouths fought to devour the other.

“You’ve no idea what seeing you in this bikini does to me,” he growled against her lips, his fingers toying with the knotted strings tied at her back.

Reaching between them, Emma cupped his hardness through the thin, damp fabric of his trunks and hummed into his mouth before murmuring, “Actually, I think I do.”

“We’re drunk,” he stated, pulling back slightly while his hands gripped her hip and grazed her back.

“W’are,” she slurred, flicking her gaze up to his. “Your point?”

“We were drunk last time, too,” he reminded her, sloppily. “I’ve always regretted that.”

“Regretted it?”

“Not what we did,” he clarified, his fingers brushing up her side, over the back of her shoulder, then back down her arm. “I regret I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties when I took you. That the details of you, naked and quivering beneath me, are hazy in my memory because of the alcohol clouding them.”

Emma cupped his length harder, pulling a grunt from the depths of his chest and causing his eyes to slip shut as his lips parted in pleasure. “Will that regret keep you from taking me again?” she asked, kneading the underside of his balls with her fingertips. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she gripped his earlobe between her teeth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that interrupted the moans vibrating up his throat. “Will that regret keep you from allowing me the pleasure of being taken?”

Killian jerked his head away, her teeth scraping against the lobe of his ear. A growl rumbled in his chest as he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes dark and piercing despite the alcohol hooding his gaze.

“Absolutey the fuck not,” he declared in a tone that curled her toes and nearly made her knees give out.

With a series of sharp tugs, he undid the knots that had kept her bikini top secured, then tore the flimsy piece of fabric from her breasts so his mouth and hands could replace it. Clutching his head to her chest, Emma gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist when he managed to lift her, one handed, so he could carry her to the bed. He probably would have deposited her on the mattress with more finesse had he been sober, but Emma wasn’t complaining, not when he sank to his knees at the end of it and began divesting her of her bikini bottoms with his teeth.

She wasn’t sure whether she said them out loud, but the last coherent words to flow through her consciousness before his tongue began its assault on her sex were, we really ought to do this sober at some point.

~/~

“Got our to-go coffees!”

Emma groaned, her head resting against her arms which were crossed on top of the table they’d just finished having breakfast on. If you could call a slice of dry toast breakfast, that is.

She really shouldn’t have drank so much the day before.

She hated to think how much worse her hangover would be if, after their… relations, Killian hadn’t insisted they both take an aspirin and chase it with a large glass of water before crashing.

Yet another thing to be grateful to Killian Jones for.

And he had given her many, many things to be grateful for last night.

Of course, she’d given him her fair share as well.

Not that she should be thinking about any of that now, especially when thinking in general was causing her head to pound.

“Here,” Elsa said, prompting Emma to sit up and take the to-go cup being offered to her. “I slipped a little hair of the dog in it for you.”

Emma glanced down to where Elsa was brandishing the flask she had tucked away in her purse, a very Jones-esque smirk pulling at her lips.

“Your brother-in-law is a bad influence,” Emma chortled, then winced at the way the action made her stomach gurgle.

Elsa laughed and stood, prompting the rest of the table to follow. The four women made their way out of the diner and towards the shops that were just beginning to open for the after Christmas sales. Emma took a large gulp of her doctored coffee, willing it to sustain her these next few hours. She was gonna need all the help she could get.

“Emma,” Elsa said quietly, as they milled around the third - or was it the fourth - shop of the day.

When Emma glanced over at her, Elsa tilted her head towards the corner, indicating a more private place to chat, and Emma, curious, followed her cousin.

“What’s up?” Emma asked, noting the discomfort and hesitation Elsa was struggling with.

“It’s just…” Elsa began, tentatively. “I know you were joking before, when you said Killian was a bad influence, but…”

“But?”

Elsa’s cool blue eyes locked onto Emma’s. She knew that look. It was the same look David would give her when he was about to go all I’m-telling-you-this-for-your-own-good, trust-me-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about, slightly insufferable, older brother on her.

“He isn’t a bad guy.”

Stunned, Emma blanched and assured, “I know that.”

“I mean,” Elsa continued. “I know David thinks he has a reputation of being a ladies’ man, and has written him off as a ‘bad boy’, but Killian isn’t actually like that.”

“Okay,” Emma drawled, suddenly very uncomfortable with where this conversation might be going. “Why are you tell--”

“Because… He talks about you all the time,” Elsa told her. There was something in her tone that alerted Emma to the fact that her words might be considered a betrayal, but she’d decided to place her loyalties with her cousin rather than her brother-in-law. “He asks about you when it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together. I really… I really think he has a thing for you, and I wouldn’t want any misconceptions to get in the way of you possibly--”

“Elsa, stop.”

Emma couldn’t listen to anything more her cousin had to say. It was too much. Too much to hope that this… whatever it was between her and Killian, was more than some ‘dalliance’. More than an itch he felt the need to scratch or some challenge he wanted to conquer.

More than just another notch on his bedpost.

“Look,” she said, her tone not quite as snappy as it had been. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t have to defend Killian to me. I know he’s a decent guy, and I…” Emma wasn’t sure what else to say without giving away her feelings, something she was barely ready to do with herself, and nowhere near ready to admit to anyone else.

“Right,” Elsa said, letting Emma off the hook. “Well, I’m glad we got that sorted. I just… Now that Liam and I are married, the Jones brothers are a permanent fixture in our lives and I--”

“I know,” Emma interjected, wishing to end the awkward conversation. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Elsa asked, stepping a bit closer. “Emma, Killian isn’t going anywhere. I know you keep your guard up because you’re afraid of being wrong about him, but… give him a chance? I really think he just might surprise you. In the best way.”

Elsa’s words lingered in Emma’s mind for the rest of the day, as did nearly every interaction she’d ever had with Killian over the past several years. If what Elsa had said was true, that Killian had genuine feelings for her, then why hadn’t he ever made a move?

Granted, in the early years of Elsa and Liam’s relationship, he only came around a couple of times, but he had been a solid member of their group for at least the past two. Yet, he’d never given her any indication of being serious about her. Sure, he flirted and made suggestive comments and did outrageous things with his eyebrows and tongue, but he did that with everyone, right? Even David and Kristoff.

He didn’t have their preferred drink at the ready when they inevitably showed up late, though. Nor did he buy them thoughtful gifts that affirmed and supported their chosen profession. He also did not gravitate towards the rest of them like he did her. And she to him.

He didn’t look at any of them the way he looked at her. In fact… She could not recall a single time they’d been together when she’d seen him look at another woman that way. Not even on the cruise when there had been no shortage of beautiful women in revealing, eye-catching outfits. Not even when those women had come onto him, slipping their room numbers, phone numbers, and who knows what else into his pocket.

Surely, given the fact that he was gorgeous and charming and sexy as hell - don’t get her started on the accent - and had women throwing themselves at him, he had no trouble keeping his date book full and his bed warm. It’s not like he’d been pining after her all this time.

Right?

~/~

The ladies got back to the cabin later than they’d planned. Initially, the group was going to make do with the leftovers for dinner, cleaning out the fridge and making sure nothing went to waste before checking out the next day. However, the shopping and bonding and girl-time had led to them informing the guys that they’d be dining out instead and to not wait up.

Emma - despite the internal turmoil and lingering questions her conversation with Elsa had left her with - had actually enjoyed the day with her cousins and sister-in-law. So much so that it might have been her idea to ditch leftovers with the gents and treat themselves to a lovely meal at the bistro they’d walked by several times during their shopping ventures through the town.

Was a small part of that suggestion due to the fact she wasn’t ready to face Killian?

Yup. Absolutely. 100%

There was no putting it off any longer, though. Despite their insistence that the men should not wait up for them, they had. Because, of course they had.

After a brief recap of the day and a run down of what would need to be done in the morning before they checked out of the cabin, the group dispersed, heading to their respective rooms and turning in for the night. Emma glanced at Killian, whom she’d been avoiding making eye contact with, and could see the same uncertain, hesitant, bracing-for-what-may-come-next demeanor she knew she’d walked into the cabin with.

Making her way into their room, she noted how he’d made the bed and picked up their discarded suits that had still littered the floor when she’d left early that morning. She swallowed heavily at the memory of her quickly quieting her alarm and getting ready - queasy and heavy-headed - as silently and stealthily as possible as not to wake him and force an interaction. What had it been like for him to wake up alone? Had he been plagued by thoughts and memories and questions all day like she had? Eager to see her and discover what it all meant whilst also willing to allow the hours to drag on and avoid having to face a reality that may not meet hopeful expectations?

The door softly snicked closed, the air growing heavy and charged as tense anticipation palpated throughout the room.

“Swan,” Killian began, his voice gentle but resolved as he hovered by the door, giving her as much space as he could within the privacy of their room. “I know talking about last night is probably the last thing you wish to do, but I really think, given that it’s happened twice now, that we really ought to dis--”

“You’re right,” she agreed, cutting him off. “I think we need to talk about it.”

Killian balked. That was clearly not the response he’d been prepared to receive from her. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said, wetting her lips and shuffling her feet against the carpet, her gaze turned downward as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. “I’ve, uh… I've been thinking about it all day. I mean…” she paused, her eyes closing briefly at how that statement could be misconstrued, even if the presumption wouldn’t be completely off base. “I’ve been thinking about us all day.”

“Me, too,” he replied with understanding, no hint of teasing or suggestive provocation in his tone.

Emma lifted her gaze and met his eyes. He was looking at her as one would a cornered animal, cautious and careful of making any sudden movement that might frighten the creature away.

“Actually,” she continued, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she gathered the courage to make her next confession. “I’ve been thinking about us since that night on the ship.”

“Aye,” he breathed out on little more than a whisper. “Me, too.”

With her hands still tucked away in her pockets, she dipped her gaze down to her feet once more and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

It took her a moment to get over her own.

“The other night,” she began, haltingly. “When you implied that you didn’t share your bed often enough to develop a preference on which side of the… I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“But?”

Flicking her gaze to his once more, she took a breath and asked, “How often is not often enough?”

Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear; a usually endearing tell of his, but one that had her stomach churning at that moment.

“I, uh… actually…” He cleared his throat and cast his gaze aside, though he did throw a furtive glance her way as he answered, “This past year I’ve only shared my bed with one person.”

“Oh,” Emma replied, her heart sinking a bit. “Can I ask who?”

Killian’s head snapped back towards her, a look of amused confusion on his face. His expression softened and he closed the space between them, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he said, “Don’t you know, Emma… It’s you.”

“What?” she exhaled, stupidly. “What do you mean… me?”

“I haven’t been with another woman since last Christmas when you kissed me beneath the mistletoe.”

Emma knew her mouth was hanging open. She knew she must have looked - in his words - absolutely gobsmacked. “B-But that was…” she stuttered, recalling the moment he was referring to. “That was just a silly, little peck on the lips because Elsa had hung it over the bar station and caught us standing there. It was hardly even a kiss.”

“Perhaps not to you,” he said with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “But it was to me.”

Dropping his hand he took a small step back and Emma instantly regretted making it seem as though the kiss hadn’t been a big deal. In truth, she’d had to convince herself for months afterward that it wasn’t.

“But it wasn’t just the kiss,” he continued. “It’s what the kiss exposed.”

Emma felt her breath hitch at the way he was looking at her now: vulnerable, unguarded, and - to use the word he’d just uttered - thoroughly exposed.

“Which was?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a longing took over in his forget-me-not depths. “That you’re it for me, Swan. I…” Boldly, he approached her again, his words and expression leaving no room for doubt as to his sincerity. “There’s no one else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re the one I want.”

“Why… Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, the sound of her heart thundering in her ears, her chest rising and falling a bit too rapidly.

He cocked his head to one side, an uncomfortable expression taking hold of his features as he reminded her, “At the time, you were with that Walsh bloke, and despite my dislike of the fellow, it seemed bad form to make heartfelt declarations whilst you were in a relationship.” Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled heavily and added, “When it did, thankfully, end, although his timing was rubbish, leaving you high and dry on Valentine’s Day, you seemed a bit… put off by the idea of, well, all men.”

“Right,” she said, her cheeks flushing hot at the reminder. “My rant at the pub about how all men are bastards and how I was vowing to live a celibate life from then on.”

“Aye,” he chuckled. “Didn’t seem like the right time to suggest we start… anything.”

“So,” she said, understanding why he’d taken a step back. “You gave me some space.”

“I thought it best to give it time. Let you heal. Remind yourself that, though the wanker had broken your heart, at least that meant it still worked.”

“And then,” she said, prompting him to continue. “The cruise.”

“Aye, the cruise,” he parroted, swallowing hard. “Liam and Elsa’s wedding, both of us in the wedding party, spending all that time together, flirting, connecting. I thought… I thought, perhaps, it was finally my chance. Our chance. We had that amazing night together. Not just the sex, but everything else that had led up to it. And then…”

“And then, I metaphorically ran for the hills the next morning.”

Killian dropped his head, his shoulders tense as he drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid that I may have taken advantage of--”

“No, Killian,” she said, cupping his cheek and urging him to look at her. “We went over that the next day. You didn’t take advantage of me. At least, not anymore than I took of you. That wasn’t why I--”

“I know, love,” he murmured. “I know you weren’t ready. You were still getting over--”

“No, I wasn’t,” she told him. “I got over Walsh a long time ago, I just…”

“What?” he asked, his eyes flicking between hers. “You just what, Swan?”

A contrite expression pulled at her brows and she dropped her hand to his chest as she confessed, “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost. I didn’t want to be some conquest.”

“Oh, Emma,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms. “You are not some conquest. Not to me.”

He held her for several beats of their hearts, his face nuzzling the top of her head. “Ever since that night, I have waffled between the desire to respect your wishes, and the urge to fight for what I want.” Pulling back, he gazed down at her and professed, “I’m done waffling. I want you, Emma. I want to be with you. I want to pursue you, and woo you, and court you in all the ways you ought to be.” Bringing his hand up, he caressed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers and murmured, “But only if you want that as well. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.”

“That all sounds good to me,” she said, pulling a deep chuckle from his chest, and they both smiled at one another, basking in the joy of the moment.

A joy that transitioned as they stood there, lightly caressing the other, breathing the other in, and gazing into each other’s eyes. Eyes that were darkening and becoming more hooded and intense as the atmosphere began to electrify around them.

When their lips met, it wasn’t in the chaotic and frenzied way they had in the instances before. There was no less passion, no less heat, but the desperation in this kiss was for closeness, intimacy, and not because either of them thought this might be the only time they’d ever get a chance to experience the other in this way.

After a long, thorough, languid exploration of her mouth, Killian’s moved to her jaw, the space below her ear, then down her neck. Emma’s fingers carded through his hair as his tongue mapped the slope of her shoulder, his hand gently pulling at the collar of her shirt to expose a greater path.

“I agree,” he murmured into her skin, his lips applying soft kisses and gentle, sucking pressure to her pulse points as they traveled back up her neck.

“With what?” Emma panted, torn between wanting to bask in this unhurried moment of enjoyment and her eagerness to move things along so they could get to the really good stuff.

“With what you said last night,” he reminded her, pulling his face away from her neck so he could stare down at her with a smoldering gaze of desire. “We really ought to do it sober sometime, and I see no better time than now. Do you?”

“Uh, yeah. No. I mean…” Emma silently cursed herself for sounding like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, then began lifting it as she replied, “I think so, too.”

Killian raised his arms, allowing her to peel the shirt from his body. His breath visibly hitched beneath her touch as she ran her fingers down the front of his chest; the muscles in his lower abdomen jumping when they reached the top of his jeans where his body hair began to taper into a happy trail. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she loosened his belt, heard the soft gasp that fell from his lips when she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and the groan he let out when she slipped her hand past his boxer briefs to wrap around his hardening, hot, velvety length sent a shiver of wonder down her spine.

“I think,” she whispered in a sultry tone, flicking up her gaze up from beneath her lashes to meet his; her words causing them to open after her actions had clearly made them fall shut in pleasure. “I’ll be the one doing the taking this time.”

A shudder ran through him and his gaze darkened. “As you wish,” he murmured, his timbre low and gravelly and making her want to do all sorts of naughty things to him.

Her hand still wrapped around his cock, she guided him to the edge of the bed and prompted him to sit on the edge as she sank down onto her knees.

“Lie back,” she instructed while working to free him from his jeans and underwear.

“As my lady commands,” he replied, collapsing back onto the mattress, though his head remained lifted so he could watch.

After divesting him of his remaining garments, Emma pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She delighted in the way his body jumped and quivered beneath her touch; her teasing caresses and taunting kisses applied to all the areas except where he’d want them most. Pained pants puffed from his chest and soft whimpers collected in the back of his throat. The cords of his neck strained whenever his head fell back, his eyes following the motion, his lips parted and sticking at the corners whenever his teeth weren’t burying themselves into their soft flesh. When she finally turned her attention to his neglected manhood, his hips jerked off the bed from the feel of her tongue running the length of his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, his hands balling up the comforter in a white-knuckeled grip.

“Shhhh,” she admonished. “Don’t make me gag you like you had to with me last night.”

The reminder forced a half-growl, half-groan from his chest, but it fully transformed into a moan of pleasurable relief when she took him fully into her mouth.

“Gods above, Swan,” he croaked after several minutes of her working him over, trying to keep his voice down. Trying… and failing. “Fuck!”

With a soft pop, Emma released him and stood.

“Apologies, love,” he whispered in a desperate tone. “Please. Don’t stop.”

“I have no intentions of stopping,” she assured him. “But you clearly need help staying quiet.”

If he had a retort to her statement, it must have been forgotten when she lifted her shirt over her head and then removed her bra. Killian’s tongue slowly dragged across his lips, his eyes intently focused on her as she shimmied out of her own jeans and panties. Her black lace panties that matched her bra; a set, like her swimsuit, she had intentionally packed with him in mind.

Black lace panties that she picked up off the floor and let hang off her index finger as she made her way up onto the bed, mounting him dramatically and straddling his hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and keep quiet, or…”

She swung her panties once around her finger. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes trained on the black fabric until it came to a rest, crooked on her finger once more, before they met hers. Emma could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to decide which he’d prefer.

After a deliciously taut moment, he said, “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, leaning down so her lips could hover over his. “Good choice.”

She laid her panties on the pillow next to his head as they kissed - just in case. Killian groaned when his tongue ran alongside hers and Emma knew it was because he could taste the brine of his precum still lingering there. When she finally broke off the kiss so she could sit back and position herself over his length, he followed. They both broke the promise of being quiet when he slipped inside her, filling her, stretching her, molding her to him as though they were only ever meant to fit one another.

Rolling her hips, Emma began to move as Killian held her. Murmurs, grunts, staccatoed breaths, sweet nothings, curses, praises, all filled the space between them as their bodies rolled, their hips swiveled, their lips collided, their eyes connected, and their pleasure mounted.

Whenever Emma would arch her back, Killian latched onto her breasts, lavishing them with his tongue and applying sweet torture with his teeth. Torture that reverberated down to her clit, causing it to throb and ache until she couldn’t take it any longer. Pushing Killian back down onto the mattress, she ground down hard against him in an attempt to alleviate the torment. When she felt the damp press of his thumb against her she nearly cried out before remembering herself.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, vigorously applying just the right amount of pressure and rhythm to her clit as he shifted beneath her so he could continue to thrust up into her warm, slick center. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. So soft. So wet.” His words became breathier and more strained, his exertions unrelenting as his thumb and cock competed to bring her to completion. “Come for me,” he pleaded, though there was a tone of command that grew more prominent as he repeated them.

“Come for me, love. I want you to come. Need you to come. Come for me, Emma. Oh, Emma. Emma, Emma, My Emma. Come!”

And come, she did.

Hard.

Showing her no mercy, Killian kept pounding into her, his ministrations at her clit sending wave after wave of ecstasy and bone-numbing pleasure through her, making it impossible for her to stay upright. Collapsing against him, she felt his rhythm falter for a few brief seconds when he brought up his knees, giving him the necessary leverage to chase after her into the euphoric abyss she was still tumbling down. The sounds of his desperation panted and grunted and moaned in her ear, until his breath hitched and guttural groanings, deeper than words, reverberated through his chest and stuttered over his lips like his hips did against hers.

Emma wasn’t sure how long they laid there, sated and spent and unbearably content as their bodies cooled and their breaths evened out.

“Do you need to move?” Killian asked, his legs stretching back out as his arms kept her held firmly against him.

“I don’t want to,” she mumbled into the side of his neck. “But I probably ought to.”

During their post-coital cuddling, he’d already begun to soften and slip from her, but the emptiness she felt when he fully left her had them both quickly moving through their aftercare routines so they could be back in the other’s arms, nestled beneath the covers, as quickly as possible.

“Does it all still sound good to you, love?” Killian questioned between the soft kisses he was applying to the back of her shoulder.

“The wooing and pursuing and courting, you mean?” she clarified, sleepily.

“Aye.”

“Mmmm, you bet.”

~/~

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Liam said, tying a knot on the last of the trash bags that needed to be taken out. “Elsa is going over the check-out list one last time, but I think we’ve taken care of everything.”

“I don’t see why we even bothered,” David groused. “It’s not like the owner kept up his end of things.”

“And Elsa will make sure her review reflects that,” Liam assured him.

Emma and Killian exchanged amused glances with one another. Other than the heat going out that one night - which Kristoff had managed to fix the next day - she and Killian had been the only ones truly ‘inconvenienced’ by the misleading information in the cabin’s listing.

An inconvenience she was tempted to leave a five star review for.

Sleeps ten, her ass… and her eternal gratitude.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@bluewildcatfanatic @scotchiegirl @jonesfandomfanatic @idristardis @lfh1226-linda

@paradiselady19 @phoenix-untamed @jackieorioncat @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells

@brucethegirl @superchocovian @jennjenn615 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kmomof4

@the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @motherkatereloyshipper

@earanemith @captainodonoghue @jrob64 @djlbg @wyntereyez

@kday426 @gingerchangeling @winterbaby89

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[chained-spirits]

Fic WIP : Kokiri and Sailor

Sweat dripped from his fourhead. Not only did he have to keep himself alive, but he also had to keep that- pirate boy alive too. Kokiri grunted as a hard pain julted his sheild arm into him as he defended himself from a likely fatal attack, it had reminded him of when he was tackling Dudongo's Cavern for the Gorons, the double Lizalfos fight, where he hid under his over-sized sheild for protection as the swings from the monster hit the sheild and had it dig into his back before he found an opening thanks to Navi and struck one or two times before the process repeated. Kokiri looked up to see what was attacking him, and it was a- well. It looked like a moblin- but it was pink and pig-like, and it carried a sheild.

With a clean dodge from another attempted swing at his heart, he rolled around the beast and slashed his gilded sword into its back, it let out a cry of pain, flailing its meaty arms about and kokiri continued to slash at it until it was dead.

One down.

The next smaller monsters went down easily enough, they were nothing compared to the prev- Kokiri's thought was cut short as he heard the pirate boy get knocked over with a slight yell, whatever he was fighting... didn't look like a monster.

Kokiri hurred over to the large masked man and didn't hesitate to start swinging. He had managed to get a couple of hits in before it... disappeared?

Kokiri knew better than to lower his guard, but he was unsure of what it was planning,

"Above you!" The pirate boy yelled in warning as Kokiri looked up, he was right, the swordsman was above him, falling, sword pointed at his head, his hands found themselves casting Farore's wind before he could stop them and in a flash he had teleported himself to the side, avoiding the strike. The pirate boy, who was now on his feet, had delt the final blow to the masked warrior, who jumped back and surrounded himself in red runes and with a clap of his hands, vanished. This time it was clear it wasn't coming back.

The pirate boy sighed, "Nice teamwork that was," he grinned, great he was the talkative type, "You really showed them up, kid!" This boy was getting on Kokiri's nerves the more he spoke. What right does he have to be calling him a 'kid?' "So," the curly haird boy stepped forward, "how did you do that" he gestured with his hands, the same way Kokiri did when casting spells, but with over exageration in finger wiggling.

He sighed. He wanted to avoid this. "I used a spell," he decided upon. The disappointment look on the sailors' face was clear. This answer wasn't satisfying enough.

[swanslieutenant]

a place in time - chapter xv

Available now on AO3 (catch up on the rest of the story here)

Fic Summary: Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”

Rating and Warnings: Teen. Wordcount (this chapter): roughly 8K

Due to the current atmosphere of potential AI theft, this chapter is only available on AO3 to registered users.

Read Chapter 15 here

[everything-person]

Captain Swan SuperNatural Summer

I was looking so forward to this event. I had so many ideas and concepts. But real life happened and my muse ran away so i was unable to write any of my ideas no matter how hard. But with this being the last event I will not turn up empty handed so I made art for all the ideas. @cssns

TRIGGER WARNING under cut has 9 art pieces they are numbered the 9th piece contains images of blood

1.) Sands of time based on the movie/video game Prince of Persia. King Nemo ruled with his brother and right hand Jafar. The King already had sons but one day while wandering the market he found two orphan boys that showed grant potential and took them in. After invading the sacred oasis of MistHaven Killian is framed for the murder of his adoptive father. With the help of Princess Emma he escapes and finds there is more to the dagger and plot behind his fathers death then he thought.

2.) Phoenix Diamond Based off of Onward. Henry never knew his father Graham. ON his 16th birthday his mother gave him a gift from his father it was a magic wand powered by a phoenix diamond to bring Graham back for one day. He tried the spell himself but it didn't work. But when his mother touched the wand it began to glow. The spell went a miss and now they are in a race against time to find another phoenix diamond to bring him back unbeknownst to them the dangers that lie in their quest.

3.) Living in the Dark inspired by Being Human. Killian is a vampire that has stopped drinking from fresh blood. Graham is a werewolf. They get an apartment together and be roommates. They wind up renting from Emma but there's something strange about her son who randomly pops in on the guys. Everyone trying to get a sense of normal life but how can they living in the dark.

4.) Wrong Ship inspired by Doctor Who episode. Jolly Roger magically tranforms into a human woman and goes to find Killian. Confusion and misunderstanding puts a rift into Emma and Killians relationship.

5.) Sandcastles and Riptides Liam and Killian are mermen raised under their grandfather King Triton brother to King Poseidon. Emma is the princess of misthaven raised under her well meaning but over protective parents. Each of their worlds forbidden from each other but fate demands them together.

6.) The Swan and the Hook is a pirated themed story with lots of twists and turns. I know doesn't appear supernatural but trust me there was/is supernatural undertones.

7.) Witches of Storybrooke loosely based on Hocus Pocus. After Henrys mother dies he goes to live in the sleepy town in Maine. He learns the legend of three witches that used to live there and of a candle that was to bring them back to life. Hoping maybe he could find some magic to bring his mother back he ventures into the woods. But he finds there is are two sides of every story when the witches do come back.

8.) Dance with the Devil Killian succeeded in his revenge against Rumplestiltskin and turned into the Dark One as a result. For centuries he stayed in the dark ones castle until one night he heard of princesses coming of age ball. Unable to turn away the temptation he slipped into the ball and had a hypnotizing dance with a beautiful blonde before barricading himself back into his castle. What happens when he finds the same blonde battered and abused in his forest years later?

9.) How a got a pet vampire was a supernatural comedy that came about from a discord discussion of a prompt.

Those were my ideas and maybe some day I can actually write them the titles might change if I do these were just the best I could come up with.

[middlemistcs13]

Gingerbread Houses and Plays and Christmas! Oh My!

Second and Final Chapter!

Here is the second chapter! Sorry for the delay! This is the second installment of my fic for Captain Swan Secret Santa 2024 @cssecretsanta2020 and this is my gift for @whimsicallyenchantedrose. Thank you so much for being so patient with me! You are seriously one of my very favorite authors, and I hope this has been an alright story! I've been very worried about making this good enough for you!

Any and all feedback is much appreciated! I'm still continuing to learn to be a better writer, and would love any thoughts you might have. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! (Or a Happy Holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas!)

Rated: G

Word Count: 4K

“Pass the frosting, love,” Killian said, holding together two pieces of gingerbread. Emma passed him the pipping bag full of white frosting. The Swan-Jones household was busy making their gingerbread houses. They had cleared off the kitchen table and were all in deep concentration making their houses. Well, their gingerbread things. Emma and Hope were working on a gingerbread house together. Hope directed Emma and helped when possible. Henry had decided to make an AT-AT from Star Wars out of gingerbread. Killian had, as Henry predicted, decided to make the Jolly Roger out of gingerbread. 

“They are so going to vote for my gingerbread being the best!” Henry said, confident in his artistic ability.

“Lad, don’t get too overzealous. I am creating a mighty fine ship over here.” Killian responded. The boys decided to display their gingerbreads for their family to judge and pick a winner tomorrow morning on Christmas Eve. Everyone would spend Christmas Eve over at Emma and Killian’s for breakfast before more gatherings would occur throughout the day. The loser of their friendly competition had to do the winner’s chores for a week. 

“Mama! We need more gumdrops for my roof!” Hope interrupted her father and brother’s playful banter. 

“Okay, relax. I’ll grab them.” Emma responded, shaking her head slightly at her toddler’s enthusiasm. She jumped up and down for five minutes when Henry told her they would make gingerbread houses this Christmas season. “Do you want more of the pink and purple ones or all the colors?”

“Purple! And pink! And all of them!” Hope said, practically bouncing in her chair. Killian laughed quietly at his daughter. 

“Hey! Stop eating those candy pieces, little love. We need them for decorating. You can have a snack after we finish,” Killian chided Hope. 

“Sowwy! Candy is dewiscious!” Emma handed the little girl some more gumdrops, and she quickly went to work adding some on the roof of their gingerbread house. 

“Do you guys want some hot cocoa? I’m craving some,” Emma asked, getting the milk out of the fridge to boil on the stove. A chorus of “yes”es rang out in their kitchen. Emma got to work preparing four cups of hot cocoa while the milk boiled. This time next year they would have an infant, and everything would be hectic and crazy in a different way. Emma and Killian won’t be getting any sleep, and they had just gotten to the point that Hope would sleep through the night about a year and a half ago. They are still working on Hope staying in bed until at least 6:30 on school days, and 7 on weekends and breaks. Hopefully, Henry can come home from college for the winter holidays next year. Emma didn’t think it would ever feel like Christmas if all of her kids weren’t home. 

The bubbling of boiling milk snapped Emma out of her thoughts, and she poured the glasses of milk into mugs before finishing making the hot chocolate exactly as they all liked. Emma took a minute to take in her family just the way they were- Henry laughing at something Killian had said, some flour in his hair; Killian putting a dab of icing on Hope’s nose, causing her to burst out into a fit of giggles; her husband entertaining their kids, his smile lines showing in the cold, winter light streaming through the windows. She hoped their home was always filled with love and laughter like it was in this perfect moment. 

-------CS-------

“My AT-AT was better than your ship,” Henry grumbled as they walked up the steps to Regina’s mansion. 

“Lad, just admit that you lost. Fair and square as they say,” Killian replied with a smirk. 

“It’s only because the kids don’t know what an AT-AT is yet. Everyone loves the Jolly Roger. And you!” Henry snapped. 

“Everyone loves me?” 

“Killian, stop. It’s Christmas Eve. Stop antagonizing him,” Emma hushed. They greeted everyone at Regina’s house. They were evidently the last ones there. Zelena practically lived with Regina and Robin, and young Robin also lived with them and Roland. Emma’s parents and siblings were already there, and so were Belle and Gideon. Gold was apparently home with the flu. Not that she wished him ill, but she was certainly glad Gold was not there for Christmas Eve to prevent any possible feuds between him and Killian. Granny was also spending Christmas Eve with them since Ruby had moved to Kansas with Dorothy. 

After greetings, they gathered around for their feast. It was a potluck of Christmas dishes, with a little of everything anyone could want to eat around the holidays. Emma was thankful her morning sickness was pretty much gone, because she was hungry and wanted to enjoy the food. They had brought Emma’s new found favorite dessert: a chocolate peppermint ganache brownie deliciousness. Emma was craving all things chocolate and peppermint right now, and she had made these brownies at least once a week for the past month. Most of their company seemed to enjoy the brownies as well, complimenting the couple. When everyone had finished eating, the adults helped clean up the kitchen and dishes, while Henry took the children to prepare for their play. Henry had his camera set up to film the play for his senior project. The children got into their costumes, and before long, the adults were settled and the play had gone underway. Emma and Killian sat on a loveseat together, his arms protectively draped over her shoulders. She laid her head on Killian’s shoulder as Henry began narrating the play. 

Henry was a natural storyteller, and his job as the author only strengthened his skills. Henry had chosen to reenact Emma and Killian’s journey to the past in the Enchanted Forest, when Emma and Killian got to watch Snow and Charming fall in love. The children were playing different people, with Gideon playing his father, Neal as David, Margaret Ruth as Snow, Hope as Emma, Robin as Regina, and Roland as Killian. Henry weaved them through the story, with Hope and Roland going back in time, and arguing in the forest about getting back to the present. There was a costume change, and Hope was then wearing a cloak reminiscent of the Enchanted Forest. They then meet Gideon, who did an excellent job playing his father. Gideon even perfected Rumple’s voice he used before arriving in Storybrooke 30-some years ago. Hope and Roland had another costume change, and Hope was wearing a red satin dress she had worn for Christmas last year. Roland got down on his knees to help Hope dance during the “ball’. Robin, playing Regina, suddenly interrupted their dance and takes Hope prisoner. Roland and Neal converse before going to break Hope out of prison. Before they get there, Hope has escaped herself and delivers Emma’s famous line of “Sorry. No one saves me but me!” and winks at their audience. There’s a brief jump ahead and Hope and Roland help to ensure that Neal and Margaret Ruth meet for the first time. Hope and Roland once again talk with Gideon, before they discover that Hope has her magic again, and they return from their adventure into the past. They all hold hands and bow, finishing out their little play. 

The adults burst out into applause, and congratulate the kids on their great performance. Every adult in the room embraces Henry and praises him for a job well done. Despite everyone speaking highly of Henry’s hard work, Henry can’t help but grumble. 

“It would have went a lot smoother if they had actually bothered to practice!” 

-------CS-------

“Mama! Papa! It’s Chwistmas! Get up! Get up! Get up!” Hope shrieked, making her way down the hallway to her parent’s bedroom. 

“Ugh, already?” Emma mumbled into her pillow, pulling her husband's arms closer around her. His hand was firmly planted on her baby bump, thumb rubbing circles into her bare skin where her shirt had slid up in sleep. Killian kissed her shoulder before snuggling his face in her long blonde tresses. Hope opened their door and skipped to her father’s side of the bed. 

“Papa! It’s Chwistmas!” She repeated, trying to climb up the bed. Killian relented and helped her up, tickling her in the process. “Papa!” Hope giggled, crawling on the bed to her mother for protection. Emma enveloped her daughter in her arms, kissing the little girl on her hairline. 

“Good morning, baby,” Emma said, snuggling Hope closer to her.

“Morning, Mama. It's Chwistmas!” Hope said, her blue eyes shining in the early morning light. 

“You’re right. It is Christmas morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Good! I had dweams that Santa bwought lots of presents! Maybe he bwought me a baby!” Hope said, suddenly remembering her dreams. 

“A baby?” Emma questioned. 

“Mhmm. I want a baby. Like I’m Henwy’s baby. I want a baby.” Hope explained. 

“Like a baby brother or sister?” 

“Yeah! Henwy says he likes being a big brother. I want to be a big sister!” Emma looked at her husband. He smiled at his girls, before nodding his head to his wife. This was their perfect opportunity. 

“Well, Santa didn’t bring you a baby, but Papa and I have a surprise for you, sweet girl.” Emma began. 

“A supwise?!” Hope perked up, her riotous blonde curls falling down her back. 

“Your Mama has a baby in her tummy right now, little love,” Killian said gently, stroking his daughter’s hair as she looked intently at her parents. 

“In your tummy?” 

“Mhmm. Do you want to see?” Emma asked. 

“Yeah!” Emma pulled their comforter down to reveal her baby bump. Hope probably also hadn't noticed because she’d been wearing baggy sweaters and coats to hide the baby bump from her parents. Hope placed her tiny hands on her mother’s stomach, curiously observing Emma’s breathing. “There’s a baby in your tummy? When does it come out?”

“The baby will come out of my tummy in the spring. In May, right before you get out of school for the summer,” Emma replied, placing her hands over Hope’s tiny ones. 

“Is it a brother or a sister?” 

“We don’t know yet, baby. We will get to know so soon at the next doctor’s appointment.”

“The baby has to go to the doctor?!” Hope asked incredulously. 

“Well, kind of. Mama has to go to the doctor. The doctor has to check on Mama and the baby,” Killian chimed in. “We had to go to the doctor when you were in Mama’s tummy, too.”

“I was in Mama’s tummy?!”

“Yep. And your Papa would sing you lullabies every night to help you go to sleep.” Emma smiled at her little family. 

“Just like you sing me lullabies now Papa! Did you sing to the baby yet?” Hope asked, hands exploring Emma’s stomach and pushing her shirt up over her bump. Hope was too young to remember Snow being pregnant with Margaret Ruth, so she hadn’t really ever been exposed to pregnant women before. 

“I’ve sung a little bit, but the baby is still little, so it hasn’t been keeping your Mama up yet. When the baby gets a little bigger, it moves around. When you were big enough and moving around, you sometimes kept your Mama up at night. The only two things that would calm you down enough for Mama to sleep were for me to sing lullabies or for us to sleep on the Jolly Roger. You calmed down because of the waves gently rocking the ship.” Killian explained. 

“I moved in your tummy?”

“All. The. Time. You loved kicking me all day long. And sometimes all night long.”

“Has my baby kicked you?” Hope asked, finally tearing her eyes away from her mother’s stomach and looking at her face. 

“Your baby?”

“I’m Henwy’s baby, so this is my baby,” Hope said matter-of-factly. 

“What about my babies?” Emma questioned the four-year-old’s logic.

“We are all your babies, Mama!” Hope giggled in response.

“Ahh, I see. And no, the baby hasn’t kicked yet. Maybe in a few weeks it will.” 

“But if the baby is not kickin’ you, why you so sweepy?”

“Because that is just what happens. The baby has to grow a lot. It starts out smaller than the nail on your pinky finger and it gets as big as your baby doll. Then once the baby is out of my belly, it will get as big as Margaret Ruth, and you, and Neal, and Henry and even bigger, just like you are going to get bigger. But the baby is growing a lot, so I have to eat more for the baby, and it makes me tired when the baby is growing,” Emma attempted to explain. Hope nodded in understanding before sliding herself down so her face was right in front of the baby bump. 

“Hi, baby! I’m Hope! I’m gonna be a big sister! Don’t make Mama too tired today, it’s Chwistmas! And we are gonna see Henwy and Grandma and Grandpa and Neal and Ruthie!” 

“Hope, Grandpa and Grandma and Neal and Margaret Ruth don’t know about the baby yet. We have to tell them. Do you think you could help us tell them in a little bit?” Killian asked.

“Gwandma doesn’t know?! She knows everything!”

“Tell me about it, kid,” Emma said. 

“I wanna tell them! I wanna tell them!” Hope exclaimed, before beginning to jump up and down on the bed. 

“Be careful!” Emma and Killian said in unison. 

“We have to be very careful with Mama because of the baby right now, little love,” Killian said gently. 

“Sowwy Mama!”

“It’s alright sweet girl. Do you want to wake Henry up so we can get ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s?” Emma asked. Hope practically leaped off the bed and ran for the door, a “yes!” coming from her before she rounded the corner towards Henry’s room. 

“Well, that went well,” Emma said sleepily, curling herself into Killian’s arms. Killian embraced his wife, blunt arm going around her back and his hand finding its place on her stomach once again.

“Aye, love. I told you there’d be nothing to worry about. Our girl loves her baby dolls and is practically your sister’s older sister. Everything will be fine. And I think your parents will be pleasantly surprised later,” Killian replied. They snuggled together in the stillness of the December morning for several more minutes, until Hope could again be heard down the hallway talking animatedly to Henry about babies and tummies. 

-------CS-------

“Alright remember Hope- the baby is a secret until we tell you. Then you can tell Grandma and Grandpa,” Henry said, reminding his sister of their plan once more as they pulled up to the Nolan’s farmhouse. The house was decorated for Christmas with lights and garland lining the massive covered front porch. 

“I ‘member!” Hope said, eagerly looking out the window at her grandparents’ house. “And it's a secret from Neal and Ruthie, too!”

“That’s right. It’s like how our play was a secret. We can’t tell them until Mama or Papa tells you. You did so good keeping the play a secret.”

“I’ll be good! I pwomise!” Hope said as Emma parked their car. When they were pregnant with Hope, Emma, and Killian had ventured out of Storybrooke looking for a newer and nicer car for their growing family. They decided on a new Subaru Outback, with 5 seats and plenty of safety features for their icy and snowy winters in Maine. The family got out of the car and made their way up the front steps before knocking and entering the warm house. 

“Mmmm,” Emma said, smelling the aroma of spices and freshly baked goods in the foyer. “Mom, I have no idea what you’re making, but it smells so good.”

“Thanks, sweetheart! I just took the sourdough out of the oven! Should be perfect with the eggs your father is finishing up.” Snow replied, not leaving her spot in the kitchen. Emma, Killian, Henry, and Hope removed their boots and coats in the mudroom before venturing further into the house. Neal and Margaret Ruth came down the stairs in nice clothes, ready for the inevitable family photo. The children greeted each other before Neal made his way to his sister. 

“Ems! Merry Christmas!” Neal greeted, giving Emma a big hug. Because he was ten, Neal’s head was at Emma’s abdomen height. In the tight hug, Neal realized something was impacting his ability to hug his sister. “Ems?” Neal questioned quietly, looking up from her shirt to Emma’s face. She just smiled before quietly telling him she would tell him later. He nodded before smiling at his older sister, going back in for a second hug. Snow finally made her way out of the kitchen to greet her daughter’s family, giving everyone hugs. Emma made sure she didn’t get too tight of a hug from her mother. She desperately tried to make it until Hope told her parents their little secret after breakfast. 

They ate breakfast together in the dining room, talking animatedly about different things going on in their lives, specifically, about Henry’s play from the previous night. 

“Henry, you just did such an incredible job. I have no idea how you pulled it off. I know we all loved it. We got to relive my love story with your grandfather, and a part of your mother’s love story. It was just really special. There’s a reason you are the writer,” Snow complimented. 

“Thanks, Grandma. I thought you would like it,” Henry beamed. After breakfast, the adults helped clean up before they moved into the living room to open presents from each other. 

“Alright, Hope. Come here,” Emma said after over an hour of opening presents. All the presents had been opened, so it was the perfect time for Hope to make their announcement. Hope followed her mother’s directions before Emma whispered in her ear. 

“Okay, Mama,” Hope whispered back, grinning at her parents and Henry. She turned around to her grandparents who were sitting on another couch before skipping over to them. 

“Gwandma and Gwandpa, there’s one more present!” Hope excitedly shared. 

“There is? There’s nothing else under the tree sweetheart,” Snow said, looking from their vibrant Christmas tree to her granddaughter. 

“It’s not under the tree silly!” Hope giggled. Snow and Charming looked more confused, but let Hope finish. “It’s from Mama! There’s a baby in her tummy right now!” The little girl shrieked. It took approximately 1.3 seconds for Snow to catch on before she jumped up off the couch screaming in excitement. 

“I knew it! I knew something was going on! OH! I’m SO excited for you Emma! Another baby?! How wonderful is that!” Snow squealed, forcing Emma to stand before embracing her in a very tight hug. 

“Mom. A little tight,” Emma muttered. 

“Oh! Sorry! I’m just so excited! And you!” Snow said, turning to her husband. “You have to do the dishes for a month. I told you!” Snow bragged triumphantly. 

“You made a bet that I was pregnant?” Emma questioned. 

“Of course! You were just being so suspicious! The weird appetite? Wanting to eat more? The tiredness? Dear, you were a classic case!” Snow babbled. “And you weren’t telling me anything whenever I asked. That was a surefire sign!” Snow embraced her eldest again, before hugging her son-in-law. 

“I’m so happy for you both!” Snow gushed. David had gotten over his initial shock, sure Killian would have told him earlier that they were pregnant again, and gathered Emma in his arms. One hand went around her back, and his other hand held her head like he always did when giving his daughter a comforting embrace. 

“Congratulations, Emma. I don’t know how you continue to make me proud to be your father, but I am so happy for you, and I am so proud of you. I can’t wait to have another grandchild.” David said in Emma’s ear during their embrace. 

“Thanks, Dad. It means a lot, and we’re both really excited,” Emma replied. David let go of his daughter before turning to his son-in-law (and best friend). 

“I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me earlier, especially when I specifically asked you how Emma was doing. But, I understand, and I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Dave. We wanted to present it as a surprise for Christmas,” Killian said, hugging his mate. David quickly wiped tears from under his eyes trying to appear strong in front of his family. 

“Dad? Are you crying?” Emma asked, perplexed.

“Yeah, I just-. It’s something special to see your daughter growing up and being happy, Seeing you happy with Killian and with your growing family, it’s everything I wanted for you and more.” David’s comment brought a fresh layer of tears to Emma’s eyes, and she burrowed herself in her father’s arms once more. 

“I’m glad you are in my life, Dad. You too, Mom. Merry Christmas. I didn’t realize I was going to get so emotional,” Emma said, wiping the tears from her eyes as she looked towards all of her family. 

“Love, you’re four and a half months pregnant. Of course, you were going to get emotional.” Killian said, face broken out in a permanent smile. 

“Four and a half months?!” shrieked Snow. Emma was never going to live down the fact that she hid her pregnancy from her mother for over four months, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her parents were emotional soon-to-be grandparents for the third time. Her siblings looked excited and were already talking with Hope about “her baby in Mama’s tummy”, and Henry just looked proud. She sure was proud of her kid, and thankful that he was so supportive of her and Killian growing their little family. Then there was her husband. Killian had rarely looked happier, except maybe when she told him she was pregnant with Hope or the day Hope was born. Gone was the rough-around-the-edges great pirate captain. A loving, kind, generous, and supportive man stood in his place, and Emma couldn’t ask for a better friend, husband, or father for her children. 

It was a Merry Christmas, indeed.

[4getfulimaginator2022]

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Taking That Second Chance -- Chapter 5

Summary: After the end of 4a (pre 4b), Killian dies in a random accident and Emma thinks about all of the time she wasted with him and how she regrets they didn't have more. The next thing Emma knows, Mary Margaret is waking her up in the EF. Emma realizes that she's travelled back in time, so she has a choice to make: follow the same path, or change it so she and Killian have more time.

Start here on FF.net and here on A03.

Chapter 5 is here and here.

And below:

Also, I'm saying off the top: yes, Belle is going to come off as incredibly naive in this chapter. It's a part of her character arc. Bear with me please.

Chapter 5

I find the best way to love someone is not to change them, but instead, help them reveal the greatest version of themselves. — Steve Maraboli

They shouldn’t have kissed. She shouldn’t have kissed him. Or did he kiss her? It didn’t matter; it shouldn’t have happened. Guilt festered in her heart as Emma refused to look at Hook as Anton climbed down the beanstalk, both of them holding onto Anton. It was much faster than their climb the first time around. 

Emma needed to figure out how to shrink Anton. 

Hook’s eyes burned into her. He wanted to talk about it.

She couldn’t let him. It wasn’t fair to him that she kissed him. Emma had months of a friendship and romance and memories of private talks and secrets revealed all twirling around in her head. Her love for him was already there, but Hook didn’t have any of that. 

He just had his revenge, his past, and his pain. For him, she was a stranger that came into his life and completely upended it. 

Starting something with him now, when she had so much of an advantage over their relationship, was wrong. It felt like manipulating him. She couldn’t do that to him. No, if they were going to be allies and maybe friends, Emma needed to put distance between them. 

Once they rejoined the others, Emma would focus on getting home and figuring out where to go from there. She still wasn’t sure about the consequences of her time traveling and probably needed to look into that when they got back. Of course, she still wasn’t sure if she could even tell anyone the truth about time traveling. If she told anyone, they’d think she was crazy. No, it was better to keep it to herself. 

“So, when we get down there, how are you going to explain me?” Anton asked after a prolonged silence. He knew there was something going on between Emma and Hook, the tension too palpable, but wisely chose not to comment.

“We’ll tell them that you’re on our side.” Emma said. “As for your size, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“How long have you had magic?” Anton asked. 

“I think I was born with it.” Emma lied, pretending to theorize because Rumple wasn’t around to confirm it for her. So, she was rolling with manipulating the narrative as realistically as she could. “My parents are True Love, and I’ve been told that that’s the most powerful magic of all, so I guess that’s why I have magic. I just kind of discovered it though, and completely on accident.”

“Who are your parents?” Anton asked. 

“Prince Charming and Snow White.” Emma said. “My mom’s actually here.” Which reminded her that she still had to apologize to Snow for her harsh words the other day. It wasn’t fair to Snow how Emma reacted; her reaction coming more from being overprotective of Killian as well as hurt that her mother had so little faith in her. Was trust too much to ask? Was faith in her abilities too much to ask? Probably not, but Snow was trying to mother to an adult, who never had a mother before, and Emma knew that the situation wasn’t easy for her. 

“Never heard of them.” Anton admitted. “After my family was killed, I never came down here.”

“Well, they’re heroes.” Emma said. “They fought a war against King George and the Evil Queen and they won. Until the Evil Queen cursed everyone.”

Anton had so many questions. Spending years in isolation had that effect. As he asked everything, Emma filled him in on the stories, explaining how she learned all of this from her son’s magical storybook and explaining her role in breaking the curse. 

Hook remained silent the entire trip. 

When they finally got to the bottom, Anton helped them down as Mulan, Snow, Marian, and Aurora looked warily and somewhat fearfully at Anton. 

“So, this is Anton.” Emma introduced. “He’s actually a good guy and helped us out. He’ll be coming with us to Storybrooke.”

Anton smiled politely, waving a bit shyly. 

The other women gave polite smiles as well, and Mulan helped Anton find a place nearby to settle for the night. It was too late to travel.

As Marian, Hook, and Aurora settled around the fire Snow pulled Emma away from the others to talk. 

“Emma, where’s a giant going to live in Storybrooke?” Snow asked. 

“I’m working on it.” Emma shrugged.

Snow could only nod, but she still wasn’t sure. Emma had been so closed off in Storybrooke, but now, not only had she given the infamous Captain Hook a chance, a giant was getting a second chance too? What was going on with her? “Emma, is there anything that you want to tell me?”

Emma knew that Snow was trying to figure out why she appeared as a completely different person, but Emma wasn’t going to tell her about time traveling, not until she found out more about how she ended up back here. Emma wanted to say something though. “Actually, yeah. I wanted to apologize for what I said. About not needing you.” Emma looked away, trying to find the right words. “I know that this isn’t easy for you, me being an adult. You were barely a mother before everything was taken away from you.” Braving it, Emma glanced at her mother. 

Snow’s expression was one of pained sadness. 

“I never had a mother.” Emma said. “Well, that’s not completely true. I was adopted. The Swans adopted me when I was a baby because they thought they couldn’t have their own kids. When I was three, they had their own baby girl and put me back in the system. After that, well, it would be a kindness to call any of my foster parents actual parents.” Her voice shook as old memories long buried surfaced. “So, when I say I’ve done fine without you, what I mean is that I survived without you.” Tears burned her eyes. This was the most open she’d ever been with her mother. Even in her other life, she feared opening up this much to Snow, not wanting the other woman to feel guilty. This time around, Emma wanted to deal with her past. Maybe losing Killian had her realizing other things, like how much she still kept most people at arm’s length. “I don’t know how to be the daughter you want. I am who I am, and it’ll be hard to be for me to accept parents, but I can try.”

Snow was openly, silently crying as Emma spoke, torn as she was glad that Emma opened up to her, but heartbroken at hearing that her daughter’s past wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. Giving up Emma was supposed to ensure that she grew up to break the curse, but Snow always hoped that Emma ended up somewhere where she’d be loved. When the curse first broke, she was so happy to be reunited with Emma and Charming, that she didn’t let herself think too much about it, wanting to be a family again. It was clear Emma had walls that were hard to climb and she wasn’t one to be openly vulnerable with people. Now, Emma was trying, clearly emotionally exposed. Snow cleared her throat, reaching out, taking Emma’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, and it never will be enough, but I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, Mom.” Emma said. “But it’s not your fault. Or Dad’s. Yes, you chose to send me away, but I’ve been thinking about it.” Truthfully she had been thinking about it for months, but never voiced it to her Snow or her David in the future. “When I said which curse would be worse, us together under the curse or us missing out on what could’ve been, I realized that you and Dad really didn’t have a choice. The curse didn’t give any of us a choice.” 

“I’m still sorry.” Snow hugged Emma to her. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. That’s a promise.” 

Emma hugged her mother back tightly, feeling as raw and exposed as she had been talking with Hook on the beanstalk. Maybe this was a part of why she time travelled? Maybe she didn’t just need to make up for lost time with Hook, but with everyone else too. Her relationship with her parents had gotten better after she and Henry returned to Storybrooke after Zelena’s curse, but Emma knew that it wasn’t anywhere close to the relationship she or her parents wanted. 

Maybe she was meant to fix all of that. After all, she was the Savior. Surely she could make things better with her parents this time around. 

As Snow let go of her and they walked back towards the fire, Emma vowed to try harder in mending her relationship with her parents. They all deserved it after everything they’d been through. 

Hook’s eyes found hers and Emma looked away. She knew she’d have to deal with him eventually, but still exposed from her talk with her mother, Emma stayed as far as she could from Hook, eating dinner quickly, before claiming exhaustion as an excuse to be left alone for the rest of the night. 

The Savior could only do so much in one night.

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

The flames licked at her skin, causing Aurora to jump back. When were these nightmares going to end? It was too vivid, too hot, too real. Tears started in her eyes as frustration mounted. How could she get rid of these nightmares? 

“Help me, please.” She whimpered to no one as she backed away from the flames. There shouldn’t be a reason to be scared. This wasn’t the real world; it couldn’t hurt her, but it felt real. The flames were hot as though she was really here and not in a dream world. 

Her eyes caught a shadow. She wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?”

The shadowy figure moved a little closer. 

Even so, there wasn’t much she could really see. The figure was still too far away. “Who are you?” She called out. 

A voice came across the flames but still it was a muted mumble. 

They wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the flames. 

Aurora warily watched the flames dance. Could she cross them without getting burned? If this was a dream, were the flames real? Gingerly, she reached out her hand to touch only to retreat when the heat got to be too much. 

Her eyes found the figure again. “Can you cross?” 

The muffled voice still wasn’t clear over the flames, but the figure stepped a little closer. It was still in shadow, but Aurora could tell that the figure was shorter than her with a small frame. 

Was that a child? How was a child in such a horrible place as this? 

While Aurora wanted nothing more than to wake up, she couldn’t leave a child in this place. But how was she going to cross? 

Looking around her, she saw how everything, even the curtains, was engulfed by flames. There wasn’t anything she could use to protect herself from the fire. 

The only way through was to brave it and go through somehow. Aurora walked alongside the flames, trying to find an opening. If she could find any low enough, she could jump. Not that this dress was conducive to any kind of jumping. Eyeing the flames for a long while, Aurora noticed a pattern where some spots would flicker lower then shoot up before lowering again. As she watched, she counted how many breaths it took for the fire to change height. 

She counted about a dozen times to see if it was consistent. Once she figured it was, Aurora walked away from the flames as far as she could. Here in this dream realm, nightmare realm, wherever this was, Phillip’s dagger was still in the folds of her dress. Taking it in her hand, she knelt down and cut through her skirts until her dress was just above the knee. Once that was done, Aurora discarded the ragged scraps of fabric and stood. 

Her gaze found the flames with her opening. It was high again, but she didn’t know how long it had been that way. When they finally lowered after a few still seconds, Aurora broke into a run. Jumping over the flames just in time, Aurora landed on her feet, quickly stumbling into the ground. Groaning, she pushed herself up only to come face to face with a boy, who looked about nine or ten years old. 

His bright green eyes looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked, helping her up. 

“I’m fine.” Aurora said as she looked down at herself. Luckily there were no signs of burns. Her poor dress was completely ruined. Her gaze returned to the boy. “I’m Aurora.”

“I’m Henry.” The boy said. “Were you under a sleeping curse too?” 

“I was.” Aurora answered, surprised that someone cursed a little boy. Then she registered his name. Henry. Wasn’t Emma’s son named Henry? To be certain, she asked another question. “How did you become cursed?”

Henry grimaced. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. How do you explain to a stranger that one of your moms was trying to kill the other one and that he was the one that prevented it.? “I ate a poisoned apple turnover.”

Her brow arched at that, but stranger things were known to happen. “Would this have been in Storybrooke?”

His eyes widened. “How do you know about Storybrooke?”

“I’m traveling with two women from there.” Aurora said. “Emma Swan and Snow White.”

“My mom’s with you?” Henry leaned forward, eyes glittering excitedly. “Are they okay?” His mom and his grandma were still alive! This was great news. He’d have to tell grandpa as soon as he was awake.

“They’re fine.” Aurora said. “We’re trying to help them get back to Storybrooke.”

“Where are you?” Henry asked, trying to get as much information as possible. 

“We’re in the Enchanted Forest.” Aurora said. “We might have a portal back to your Storybrooke. Well, as long as Cora doesn’t get in our way.”

“You have a portal?” Henry was relieved to hear that. “Wait, who’s Cora?” He vaguely remembered that name. It had to be someone from…wait. He did know that name. She was mentioned in his book as…Regina’s mother. “Not…are you…do you mean the Evil Queen’s mother?”

Aurora nodded. “She’s here in this land and she’s got magic. She wants a portal as well.”

“Why?” Henry remembered the book said something about a pirate being sent to kill Cora before the curse. 

“She wants to reunite with the Evil Queen.” Aurora told him. “Likely to start a new reign of terror in your realm.” 

Henry swallowed. While his mom might not be terrorizing people now, there was no guarantee that Regina was changing her ways. “Okay, I’ll warn people over here.”

That was a good idea. “Do you want me to give your mom and grandmother a message?” 

Henry thought about it for a moment. “Just that I’m safe with grandpa and that we both miss them and we love them.” Henry figured that was good enough for now. “And, we can’t wait for them to come home.” He smiled at the real possibility that his mom and grandma would be home any day now. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them.” Aurora returned the smile just as she felt herself being tugged awake. “I think I’m waking up. Be careful, Henry.”

With that, the fiery room faded away. 

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

Belle woke up clenching her sheets, gasping harshly as the images of Rumple killing the dwarves stuck in her mind as she came into the waking world. Her nightmare was so vivid; it felt so real, almost as it were a premonition itself. 

No, no, that’s not going to happen. She told herself. Rumple promised you that he would stop using magic. He’s a changed man now. He changed for her, because he loved her. A smile crept on her face, banishing away the last, horrifying vestiges of her nightmares. 

Looking around her, she found herself alone in the darkened bedroom. Hadn’t Rumple stayed with her as she fell asleep? Where did he go? She hoped he didn’t think he’d be intruding, staying with her all night. That’s exactly what she wanted; him near, his presence a comfort. 

Feeling a desperate need to go find him and seek out his comfort once again, Belle stood from the bed. Her hands reached for her robe, throwing it around her shoulders for warmth as her room was rather chilled. Though it was late winter, which certainly wasn’t kind to older houses such as this one. The old wood floors were cold as well, so she secured her slippers to her feet. Once that was done, she slowly opened the bedroom door, leaving the room. 

Her feet carried her to Rumple’s bedroom, only for her to find the door ajar. Opening it further, she saw it was empty and the bed was made. As the Dark One, Rumple didn’t sleep like she did. 

She shivered again, and not from the cold. Had he not brought magic to Storybrooke, would he be sleeping? Would he be a normal man? Or with the curse broken, would he be the Dark One again whether magic was here or not? 

Belle hadn’t dared ask him any of these questions. While she loved him, she was more than aware of how volatile he could be, especially when pushed. It scared her, as did his magic. He  promised her that he wouldn’t use it anymore, but she knew that was easier said than done. 

Perhaps, one day, she could try True Love’s Kiss again. It almost worked back in the Enchanted Forest; it could work this time as well. Rumple was trying to be a better man. Surely, he wouldn’t push her away this time. 

As her search continued through the rather large manor, which she was still very much unfamiliar with, there was no sign of Rumple. Just where was he? How big was this house? It was almost like a castle with the many winding and connecting hallways. While there was plenty of windows, there were also heavy curtains, which brought darkness with them, causing her search to be much slower as she felt around her surroundings. 

Finally, she turned a corner, intent on at least finding the kitchen for some water, when a glimpse of light caught her eye. 

A yellow tinted sliver of light came from behind a slightly open door.

Where did that door lead to? Was Rumple there, or had he simply left a light on? 

Curiosity outweighed any hesitance on her part. After all, Rumple told her that his home was her home now, and she was welcome anywhere. Still, she kept her footsteps light and slow. Creeping ever so silently towards the door, Belle’s breathing slowed and softened so that she wouldn’t be heard. 

She reached the door. 

Now, she hesitated. What was she going to find behind this door? She closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself. Belle blinked her eyes open. Wait, why did she need to prepare? Rumple wasn’t going to keep secrets from her. Not anymore. Right? 

If you trusted him, you wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. A voice in her head reasoned. You know what he’s up to. 

She had a feeling, of course. 

Slowly, she crouched down and peered through the crack. Down in what appeared to be a basement, Rumple sat at a table, books of magic, magical items, a cauldron, and scraps of paper with notes littered the table and space around him. Not too far was his spinning wheel surrounded by gold straw. 

He was mixing together a potion. 

He was breaking his promise to her. 

She backed away and eased along the hallway, just as silent as before to not draw his attention. Her eyes watered thickly and her throat tightened. 

Had her wishes truly not meant anything to him? Had he really thought so little of her that he’d blatantly use magic in his home, knowing she wasn’t all that far away? And really, sneaking around at night? Had he thought that she wouldn’t catch him? Did he think himself to be clever?

She entered her bedroom in a daze, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. Shutting her door with a soft click, Belle pressed her back against it, descending to the floor. Her knees met her chest as she held herself. She bit her lip to keep her cries quiet. 

She trusted him to do as she asked. She trusted him to put his faith in them. Yet, he couldn’t give up magic. Not even for her. 

He never would. 

Heaving a breath, trying to pull herself together, Belle was hit with clarity. 

If he wouldn’t give up magic for her, then she had to give him up for herself. 

She couldn’t be in a relationship with a man she couldn’t trust to not lie to her. If he couldn’t be open with her, or lean on her, and his preference was sneaking around at night to practice magic, then she needed to walk away.

Letting him go would be hard, but Belle believed that perhaps, if Rumple truly believed that their love was worth fighting for, then he’d chose to be a better man. 

Her decision made, Belle stood with determination.

This was going to end, no matter how much it hurt them. 

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

What was she doing here?

It was the ass crack of dawn, black night turning into a grey, dull winter’s morning. She should be in bed, sleeping in the comfort of her blankets, warmed by central heating. 

Instead, Henry’s words were getting to her, having kept her awake most of the night. 

I think you could be good if you really wanted to be. 

Could she be good? Did she even have the capacity for it? Regina had no idea. For so long, she’d been filled with hatred and anger. There was a void where her heart was, and even Henry never quite filled it. All she wanted for so long was for everyone else to suffer. 

Victory had been hers for a time, but now…

Now she was all alone and the most hated woman in Storybrooke. Even her own son didn’t want to be around her, preferring to trick her so that he could find a way to bring his other mother back to their realm. 

Just thinking of Emma Swan filled Regina with such a blinding rage that her knuckles turned white as they gripped her steering wheel. Everything would’ve been just fine if that woman never came to town. Her curse would still be intact and Henry…well, she would’ve figured out sooner or later how to deal with him. 

Gritting her teeth, Regina almost started her car to return home. 

She caught sight of red hair. 

Archie was walking up to the building where his practice was, with Pongo trailing along next to him on his leash. 

I think you could be good if you really wanted to be.

That’s why she was here. Her anger still simmered, but at least it wasn’t an all consuming rage. Henry believed she could change if she tried. If he believed in her, could she believe in herself? Ha, likely not.

But…but this would at least be a step in the right direction. 

Though she didn’t exactly have faith in the abilities of a former cricket. How effective could his form of therapy even be? 

She scoffed, once again debating about turning the ignition on and leaving. She couldn’t be good. Her blood was full of dark magic, just like her mother’s. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from that tree, did it? 

Her stomach sank at the thought. 

Was she like her mother? Memories of using magic on Henry time and time again throughout his life assailed her. Everything she did, she learned from her mother. It was no wonder that Henry hated her. 

I don’t hate you. He’d said that of course, but had he just been saying that because he needed her out of her office? Or had he truly meant that? Did he really believe in her? 

Henry had such a good heart. He was nothing like her. So much of him came from his grandparents and even Miss Swan. There was nothing of her in him despite raising him for ten years. 

Though, with how she turned out, that was probably for the best. Even if it meant Henry didn’t want to be around her. 

But Regina wanted to be around Henry; she wanted to be in his life. 

As long as she was the Evil Queen, as long as people viewed her as such, then she’d never be able to be in his life. She’d be ostracized at best and likely arrested or killed out of revenge at worst. Sure, her magic was back, but it was spotty. There was no guarantee she could defend herself when the time for it came. 

She stared at Archie’s building, not knowing how long it had been since he’d gone in, but the sun was higher in the sky now. Grey was tinted with bright blue at the horizon. 

Regina swallowed. 

There was a choice to be made, and she had to make it now. 

If she went through with this, if she tried to change, could she achieve her happy ending? Or was it better to stay as she was and be the villain everyone saw when they looked at her? 

Closing her eyes, Regina warred with herself. To get therapy or not to get therapy. There wasn’t a guarantee that it would work. Perhaps she had nothing but a dark and wretched heart. So many choices led her down her path to darkness. It hadn’t bothered her until Henry.

What if he meant it? What if he truly did believe that she could change?

“There’s one way to find out.” Regina whispered to herself. She took the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her purse. Locking her car, her heels clicked on the pavement, the only noise echoing on the silent street. 

She paused before the door. 

You can do this. She told herself as she took a long, deep breath. For Henry. You can do this for Henry. 

Opening the door, Regina took the first step forward to changing her life. 

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

Waking with a start, Aurora sat up quickly, looking around camp, finding everyone already awake and the sun rising over the horizon. 

“Are you all right?” Mulan asked, kneeling next to her with concern. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Nightmare. Aurora whipped her head around, spotting Emma sitting with her mother as they divided up berry portions for breakfast. “Emma!” Aurora scrambled to her feet, rushing over to the startled blonde. “I saw Henry.” She said as she dropped in front of her.

The others were just as startled, sharing confused looks as to what Aurora meant. 

“Henry?” Emma blinked. “How did you…?” She trailed off as the realization hit her. So much had been going on that Emma forgot Aurora and Henry had both been under the sleeping curse. Their nightmares were some kind of dream realm.

Luckily, Aurora quickly filled in the silence, unknowingly covering Emma’s remembering. “We were both put under the sleeping curse. So, whatever realm I’m in in my dreams, Henry’s there too. We can communicate.”

Hook scrutinized Emma’s expression. When she had begun to ask Aurora about how she saw Henry, Hook could’ve sworn realization crossed Emma’s face, as though she knew the answer before Aurora revealed it. How could that be?

“You talked to him?” Emma leaned forward. “Is he okay? What did he say?” She knew that he was with her dad by now, and she could find a way to thank David for getting Henry out of Regina’s custody for the moment when they returned to Storybrooke. Still, Emma wanted more than anything for Henry to be all right and knowing if he was would ease her mind at least.

Aurora smiled. “He said that he’s safe with your father. They both miss you and Snow and they want you home.”

“We’re getting there.” Snow said, excited and determined. “Did you tell him we were on our way?”

“I did.” Aurora’s face fell. “I also warned him about Cora.”

“That’s wise.” Hook spoke. “Emma said the Dark One brought magic to Storybrooke. Which means if Cora gets there, she’ll have magic as well.”

“And if she gets Regina on her side,” Snow started. “Storybrooke might be in for a war.” She hated to think about going through another war against Regina. They barely survived the last one, and if Cora was around this time, they could all very well be destroyed. And that wasn’t even accounting for Rumplestiltskin joining them or not. 

“We won’t let that happen.” Emma said, determination filling her. She stood then. “We’re going to use the portal before she can get the chance.”

“If she’s as powerful and clever as you all seem to fear,” Anton began, looking down at all of them from his great height, even as he was seated. “Then how are you going to stop her?”

No one was sure how to answer that. This was Cora after all.

“We’ll figure it out.” Emma said.

“We need to figure out how to get the ashes to work.” Snow said. “The sooner we do, the sooner we can get home and leave Cora here.” How to get the ashes to work though? Was Emma’s theory even correct? Could they still have magic even though the wardrobe burned?

Emma gritted her teeth. There was no way she could mention Lake Nostos without drawing suspicion. She wasn’t from here and she wasn’t suppose to have knowledge of Lake Nostos or the magical properties of the lake. There had to be some way to bring it up, but how? 

“Maybe we should return to the Safe Haven.” Marian suggested, an idea coming to her. “If Cora was posing as Lancelot, it’s possible she might continue to do so. If she is, then maybe we can trap her somehow. With her knowledge of magic, surely she knows how the ashes work?”

If Emma could cheer without looking insane, she would. How had she not thought of that? Cora might not return to Safe Haven, but if there was a chance she would, then they could stop her. Without Hook to cover for, Cora wouldn’t need to kill anyone, so they could get others on their side to help trap Cora. Then Emma could figure out how to get Cora to reveal the truth of Lake Nostos.

Hook wondered just why Emma looked relieved about that. There was nothing to be relieved of where Cora was concerned. While Emma had his trust, his instincts were telling him that there was more going on than any of them knew. Emma knew something and he’d figure out how to get her to talk. Though they still needed to discuss their kiss, and he hadn’t had much luck with that. It wouldn’t hurt to try again. 

“Do you really think she would return?” Aurora asked. 

“If she needs allies or some sort of cover, it’s a possibility.” Hook said, adding to the conversation.

Mulan glared at him with suspicion, which was nothing new. 

“Okay, we return to Safe Haven.” Snow agreed. “We trap Cora and we get the information we need.”

“Then we go home.” Emma added with a smile. They’d be back in Storybrooke in no time now. 

“Let’s get going then.” Mulan said, curtly. “We shouldn’t waste anymore daylight.”

As they broke down camp, Cora watched from the trees, her presence rendered invisible by her magic. It was almost cute that they thought it was possible to trap her. Well, she wouldn’t allow that of course. Safe Haven proved to be a problem as their returning there meant they'd gather allies. 

Cora’s lips curled into a cruel smile. If she did away with the people, then she’d prove to them just how much of a threat she was, especially when she revealed to them her hostage. They’d comply with her once they knew she’d do anything to get to Storybrooke. 

Transporting herself back to the Safe Haven, Cora began her work to defeat the heroes. 

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

Henry hurried down the stairs as soon as he was awake. 

Liam, being an early riser, was already sitting at the counter as David cooked bacon and eggs.

“Grandpa!” Henry practically crashed into David as he came to a stop. “Mom and Grandma are coming back!” 

“Whoa, wait, what?” David blinked, surprised by Henry’s statement and caught off guard by so much energy this early in the morning. He then registered exactly what Henry said. “Henry, what do you mean they’re coming back? How do you know that?”

“They’re with Sleeping Beauty.” Henry said. “Princess Aurora. She was under the Sleeping Curse too.” He spoke quickly, full of excitement at his discovery. “The room where the fire is has to be a realm when we’re asleep.”

“Okay, so you saw this woman in your dream?” David asked slowly, trying to remember if he knew of a Princess Aurora. The name sounded familiar. He took the cooked food off the stove to focus on Henry. 

“Yeah.” Henry said. “She’s traveling with Mom and Grandma. They’re getting a portal home.”

Relief was the ultimate understatement for what David felt in that moment. His emotions overwhelmed him as a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Emma and Snow were coming home. They would be reunited and be a whole family once again. 

Liam wanted to be happy for his friend. He knew how upset Henry was that his mom and grandma were gone, but he couldn’t stop the jealousy settling in his bones. Henry would have his whole family again, and Liam would be alone. His papa was still gone and then when Emma and Snow came home, there wouldn’t be room for him to stay here. He’d be kicked out and on his own again. Was it his fate to always be alone?

“Did she say when they’d be home?” David asked. 

“She said they were woking on it.” Henry said. Then his smile faded and he grew serious. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked. 

“They said a woman named Cora was trying to come too.” Henry said.

“Cora?” David’s look of horror chilled both boys. If David was scared of her, then she was seriously bad news. “Cora is alive?”

Henry nodded. “She wants to come here for Regina. Aurora said that if that happens, then they’ll terrorize everyone.”

David turned grim. “They will.” Seeing the scared expressions on both boys’ faces, David added. “But we’ll fight them. We won’t let them win, all right?”

The boys nodded, but they weren’t all that reassured. 

“Hey, I promise.” David started. “If Cora comes here, then we’ll stop her and Regina from hurting people.” Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, David sighed. “I know neither of you want to go to school right now, but it’s safer there. I have to warn others about Cora and we’ll need to prepare.”

“We can help.” Liam protested. Storybrooke was their home too; they could help defend it. 

“No, boys.” David was stern. “You have to go to school. I know you want to help and I know you’re scared, but this is most definitely a job for adults. If it comes to fighting Regina and Cora, you both are at risk of getting hurt.” David grasped Henry’s shoulder in one hand, and reached out a reassuring hand to Liam’s forearm. “It’s good to want to help, but you both have to promise me that you’ll listen to us and stay out of this fight. We can’t beat Regina and Cora if we’re worried about you two, okay?”

Reluctantly, both boys agreed. 

“Okay, let’s eat up and get dressed.” David said, plating up their bacon and eggs. As the boys ate, David walked away into his and Snow’s bedroom area and dialed Ruby’s number. 

“Hey, David.” Ruby answered after only a couple of rings.

“Hey.” David kept his voice low so the boys wouldn’t hear, and thankfully with Ruby’s wolf hearing he could whisper and she’d understand him clearly. “I need you to gather our allies. Henry made contact with someone in the Enchanted Forest. Snow and Emma are okay and they’re coming home, but Cora’s alive and trying to get here too.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby practically screeched. “The Enchanted Forest still exists? How did Henry make contact? And what the hell do you mean Cora’s alive?”

“I’ll explain later.” David said. “Have everyone come to Granny’s. We’ll meet in the sitting room.” He glanced back at the boys. “I have to get the boys to school, then I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Ruby said. “See you soon.”

When she hung up, David looked in the mirror above the dresser. No wonder the boys weren’t all that reassured. He looked like a ghost, grim and dour. Cora was bad news and without the fairies having their magic, how the hell were they going to fight her?

There’s always the Dark One. David grimaced at the thought. Going to Rumplestiltskin for anything made his stomach knot. But, as the Dark One, he was more powerful than Cora, possibly more powerful than Cora and Regina combined. They would need him on their side. 

He didn’t like it and he really, really didn’t want to do it, but he was going to have to talk to Rumplestiltskin.

After he took the boys to school, he’d stop by the pawnshop on the way to Granny’s, just to see exactly what the dealmaker would say.

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

Belle left the house early that morning without seeing Rumple, not quite ready to face him. Most of the early morning hours were spent with her walking practically all over Storybrooke to prepare herself to confront him. It was magic or her, and if it was magic, then she’d walk away. 

She just wasn’t ready for Rumple’s reaction. He wouldn’t be pleased about her wanting him to choose. In fact, he was likely to be cold and furious all at once. Belle swallowed; she shouldn’t fear him so much. Dark One he might be, but he’d never hurt her. He loved her. Their love was True Love; it had to be and she was going to do what was best for both of them.

If she left him, he’d change for her. She knew in her heart that he would become a better man. She just needed to give him the right incentive. Winning her back would do just that. 

Her destination was now in sight. Just down the block and across the street, the pawnshop looked somewhat harmless in picturesque Main Street. Steeling herself with a deep breath, Belle walked forward with a confidence she wasn’t quite sure she felt. 

The closer she came to the door, the less certain she was of her decision. 

No, you can’t doubt yourself. Belle chided as she crossed the street. This is what’s best for both of you. 

When she reached the door, she saw Rumple through the glass. With another deep breath, Belle opened the door, meeting Rumple’s eyes.

Rumple smiled. “Belle, you were gone this morning.” He worried about where she’d gone off to, because she wasn’t that familiar with Storybrooke yet. After checking all of the shops on Main Street, he came to the pawnshop and used magic to locate her. His map of Storybrooke showed a dot representing Belle walking all over Storybrooke. He didn’t know why exactly, perhaps she was trying to familiarize herself with the town, but he felt that wasn’t the case. As she neared his shop a few minutes ago, he turned off the locator spell and waited for her at the front counter. “You should’ve said you were off. Storybrooke is still a strange place for you. I was worried.”

Guilt ate away at her. How could she not tell him? Sure, she was hurt and angry that he broke his promise, but he shouldn’t have had to worry about her. “I’m sorry.” Her feet stopped before the front counter. “I didn’t sleep well last night and I thought a walk would clear my head.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Had she woken up in the night and seen him? He hoped not. It was like Belle to be curious, but for her sake, and his, he hoped she stayed in her room. While he welcomed her into his home, Rumple knew he should’ve set some ground rules. He missed her so much for so long, so he wanted her to feel like his home was hers. However, if he was ever going to cross the town line to find Bae, he needed magic. What he didn’t need was Belle snooping around. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I did.” Belle braced herself. “You used magic and killed people.”

Of course, it always came back to him abusing his magic. Though it’s not like using his magic to kill people was anything new. He’d been doing that for centuries. “Belle, it was just a bad dream. I promised you that I would try and not use magic.” Rumple kept his tone reassuring, not wanting her to suspect what he’d actually been up to. “I haven’t used it, because of you. You need to believe that you can trust me.” 

His lies stung and it took a lot more strength than she felt for Belle to keep her emotions at bay. “You haven’t?”

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Rumple said. “Surely you know how important you are to me. I wouldn’t break my promise to you.” His reassurance was strong so that she’d believe him and stay out of his way. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his son. If he could keep Belle in the dark and get Bae, then he would have her and Bae and his life would be complete. 

Her tears came on their own, stinging at her eyes. “I saw you in the basement last night. You were using magic then.”

Rumple tensed at her accurate accusation. “I wasn’t.” He lied. “I was researching something. Research doesn’t mean I was using magic.” He couldn’t let her know he broke his promise. He needed her. 

“Stop lying to me.” Belle pleaded. How could he lie to her face like this? She knew he loved her, but his lies were coming between them. His secrets were poisoning them. “You were making a potion. That’s magic.”

“Barely.” Rumple’s tone darkened. “Belle, please, what I was doing doesn’t amount to anything.”

Belle shook her head. “It still counts and you know it.” She placed her palms on the glass, looking earnestly into his eyes. “Rumple, please. You know magic is a crutch that only hurts us. You have to stop.”

Anger blinded him for the briefest of seconds. Who did she think she was to speak to the Dark One that way? Breathing through his nose, Rumple forced down the voices of the previous Dark Ones, who called for Belle’s blood. “It only comes between us because you let it.” Rumple stepped back from her proximity to calm himself. “Magic is a part of me and you need to accept that.”

“It’s a curse, Rumple.” Belle argued. “And curses can be broken.” 

He saw the hope in her eyes and it made him sick. He couldn’t try True Love’s Kiss; it would rid him of his magic. He needed his magic. “It’s who I am. You need to accept that.”

Her chin lifted defiantly. “It isn’t you. You’re a good man. I know you are. The darkness in you is just a poison that’s festered for too long.” Belle moved, coming around the counter. 

Get her away. Older Dark Ones hissed. 

“Rumple, you can choose not to use your magic.” Belle continued. “I know that you can. You’re stronger than this curse.”

“You’re naive to think that.” Rumple snapped, turning his back to her. “I became the Dark One by choice and I remain so by choice.”

Hearing those words shattered Belle. It was the curse talking; the curse was what made him evil. Now was the time to make the choice for both of them. He would change for her if only to win her back. “Then we can’t be together.” 

This again. Rumple shook his head. “Of course we can.”

“No.” Belle said. “It’s me or magic, Rumple. If you choose your magic and being the Dark One, then I’m walking away.”

A heavy, stifling silence descended upon them as they stared off. 

Rumple calculated his next move. He couldn’t have her leave him, but he also couldn’t promise to not use magic. Clearly, it hadn’t worked the first time, using magic behind her back, and she’d be more alert to his machinations a second time around. 

The silence broke thanks to the bell jingling above the door. 

Annoyance coursed through Rumple’s veins as Prince Charming walked in. 

David stopped short when he realized something was happening between Rumplestiltskin and his…friend. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, but I have news.”

“Please, do share.” Rumple snarled. “It’s not as if we weren’t done with our conversation.” 

David glared at the Dark One’s snideness, but this was more important than Rumplestiltskin’s relationship problems. “Henry’s been having nightmares since the Sleeping Curse. He seems to be in another realm and he’s made contact with a Princess Aurora.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Rumple said. “She’s one of Maleficent’s unfortunate victims.” 

“Right.” David said. “Aurora is with Snow and Emma and they plan to get a portal home. The problem is that Cora, Regina’s mother, is alive and after the same portal.” 

Rumple stiffened. “Cora is alive?” Truly, he shouldn’t be too surprised. Cora was the wiliest student he’d ever had, if not one of the wiliest magic users he’d ever met. Himself included. “Well, she always was clever. Let me guess, she wants to come here for Regina?”

“It seems so.” David confirmed. “Look, I don’t know what Regina will do if Cora shows up here, but I do know that we’ll need someone with magic to help us fight them.” David stepped forward, his jaw set. “Even if Regina doesn’t aid her mother, it’s not likely that she’ll stop her. You have the power to do that.” Preparing himself for a deal, David hoped that he wouldn’t have to give up too much. And whatever he did give, he hoped his family would forgive him. “We’ll need your help if Cora comes to Storybrooke. Will you help us?”

While Belle didn’t know who Cora was and she didn’t like the idea of Rumple using magic, it was clear that the acting Sheriff was afraid. Even Rumple seemed uncomfortable at the idea of this Cora person coming here. Was she truly so terrible? If so, then, Rumple needed to help them. The fact that it involved magic made Belle’s stomach twist, but perhaps it would show Rumple that he could be good. If he worked with heroes, then he could very well have a chance at becoming one. Please, Rumple. You can be good. I know you can. Help them. 

Rumple stared David down. Anyone who stood against Cora was a fool; he wouldn’t help her if she came to him, but he wasn’t going to get in her way either. “No.” Rumple stated with finality. “Cora’s trouble, and I’m not going to stick my neck out for you heroes. If she comes here, I won’t aid her or you. Whatever happens is your problem.”

Clenching his fist, anger filled David, though since it was the Dark One he was dealing with, he should’ve expected such an answer. “We need someone with magic on our side. The fairies don’t have dust and I doubt Regina’s going to warm up to us. You’re the only other person who can help.”

“No, I’m not.” Rumple said. “Miss Swan has magic.”

“What?” David’s brows furrowed. “Since when?” Emma had magic, really? But how? She’d never shown signs of it, and he and Snow didn’t have it to pass on.

“She was born with it.” Rumple stated as though it was obvious. David’s ignorance irritated him. “True Love is the most powerful magic of all. A child born from True Love is a representation of that. Her magic is powerful, likely more powerful than Cora and Regina combined. Though, she doesn’t have the training, so there’s no guarantee she’ll be effective.”

David supposed that made sense. Perhaps that’s why Rumple fated Emma to be the Savior. “Then you could teach Emma, couldn’t you?”

“Get your pests, the fairies, to do it.” Rumple said. “I’d rather not waste my time. Now, if you’ll be so kind, get out.”

So much for that. David glared at Rumple a final time before storming out of the shop.

Rumple turned to Belle with the intention of finishing their conversation, stopping short of speaking when he saw the disappointment in her eyes. “Belle, I…”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Belle said. “Don’t expect me to come home. Don’t expect anything of me.” Be strong, Belle. You have to do this. “We’re done.” She turned on her heels, stalking off, practically running out the door as she did so. 

Rumple gripped the edge of the counter tightly. Belle couldn’t break it off; he couldn’t let her. No, no, he’d get her back. She’d cool off and realize her mistake and everything would be perfect once he got back into her good graces. 

He just needed to be patient. 

As for Cora, well, he was serious. He wouldn’t interfere as long as she left him alone. The Savior would do well to stop Cora from coming though. Cora being here was a complication no one needed. 

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

Jefferson groaned into his hands as the headache that plagued him since he woke up at The Rabbit Hole persistently stuck with him despite the ungodly amount of Tylenol he consumed. His second cup of coffee was no help either.

Hopefully the bacon, sausages, and eggs he ordered would be greasy enough to help and not cause his stomach to empty itself out into the nearest toilet. 

“Here you go.” Ruby placed the plate in front of him, devoid of her usually upbeat charm. 

Jefferson looked up at her. “What’s got you in a mood?” He grumbled reaching for a fork. 

“Nothing.” Ruby growled, though she kept looking nervously at the door, like she was expecting the world to fall apart. 

“Fine, jeez, don’t bite my head off.” Jefferson stabbed at his fried eggs. He was never drinking that much again. That was a guarantee. 

Ruby glared at the former portal jumper. “When I bite your head off, you’ll know it.” She whirled around, walking away to attend to other customers.

“It’s not like I haven’t lost my head before.” Jefferson mumbled. As he aggressively cut his eggs with his fork, his thoughts turned over to exactly why he was hungover. 

Grace. He still hadn’t gathered the courage to see her. Or, well, meet her. He watched her from afar sometimes, but it was too painful knowing that she remembered him now. He was too afraid to see a look of hatred on her face. Abandonment changes a person and he definitely abandoned Grace, though it wasn’t intentional. 

No, it was fucking Regina’s fault.

Then again, Jefferson was the one who agreed to work for her again. The guilt was never going to leave him; he shouldn’t have left her. Grace was better off without him, in a home with two parents, who would never leave her. She was happier without him; it was for the best. 

Poking at his food, Jefferson forced a sausage link down his tight throat and into his queasy stomach. Though he knew that Grace was better off, it didn’t stop the pain of losing her. After Priscilla died, Grace became his whole world and he vowed to always protect her and never leave. Yet, he broke his vows and failed so completely as her father. 

His wallowing kept him from noticing the stool next to him being occupied at first. 

“Portal jumper.” Dr. Victor Whale greeted curtly. 

Jefferson turned to face Whale, glaring at the man. “Mad scientist. What the hell do you want?” He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with old colleagues. Or, well, scheme buddies? He wasn’t sure what to call Whale. They only worked that one job together for Rumplestiltskin, which only made Regina a monster. He winced; he didn’t like remembering his hand in helping create the Evil Queen. His already ill stomach twisted even more. 

“Your hat, if you still have it.” Dr. Whale said. “I want to return to my realm.” While he believed that his realm was destroyed during the curse, he’d overheard a couple of dwarves at the pharmacy talking about Emma Swan and Snow White being alive and in the Enchanted Forest. If the Enchanted Forest still existed, then his realm likely did too. He needed to get back and check on his brother. Who knows what happened to Gerhardt in the years since Whale was stuck in this accursed place. 

“I don’t have it.” Jefferson said evenly before taking a sip of coffee. He wasn’t going to tell him that David had it, even knowing that the hat wouldn’t work without magic anyway. 

“Where is it?” Whale asked. 

“I don’t know.” Jefferson lied. He picked up a slice of bacon, chewing it carefully as he stared Whale down. “Why do you want to know?” What was Whale up to? Jefferson only met him the one time, but from what he gleaned from the man, his experiments were important to him. He wondered what exactly Whale did with that enchanted heart. 

“That’s none of your business.” Whale glowered. He looked away from Jefferson, thinking about what to do next. There was magic in this realm now, so that meant the Dark One and Regina had magic. He didn’t want to make any deals with Rumplestiltskin and he doubted he had any bargaining chip that demon wanted anyway. That left Regina and after leading an angry mob to kill her, he doubted that she’d be receptive of him.

No, he needed something to use against Regina. Hadn’t he heard a rumor that she brought magical items over to this realm? Turning back to Jefferson, he asked. “Did Regina bring magical items here?”

Jefferson paused in forcing down his breakfast. For a few seconds, he considered telling Whale to fuck off, but then he remembered Regina was the one to leave him in Wonderland, permanently separating him from Grace, only to bring him over with her curse solely to torment him for twenty-eight years by trapping him in a huge house within viewing distance of Grace. “Yeah, she did.” So he was spiteful and maybe a tad vengeful. “She has a vault under her father’s grave in the Mills Mausoleum. That’s where she keeps everything.”

Whale nodded and scurried off.

Honestly, Jefferson didn’t care what Whale was up to as the guy wanted to get home and whatever he did would probably ruin Regina’s day, and that thought gave Jefferson some amount of satisfaction. 

Ruby reappeared sometime later to take his empty plate, but she disappeared as soon as David walked through the door. 

Jefferson briefly wondered what that was about before returning to his coffee, wallowing once more. 

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

The trek through the forest was awkward to be sure. There was still suspicion and mistrust amongst a few of them as well as the odd tension between him and Emma and Emma and her mother. Snow seemed to glance at Emma with worry and guilt every few minutes, Mulan led them occasionally glaring at him or up at poor Anton every now and then, and Anton, being a giant, made way too much noise. Truly, it was a miracle ogres hadn’t come upon them yet. 

Emma had fallen behind some time ago, likely to avoid her mother’s glances and definitely in an attempt to avoid him. 

Hook wanted to talk to her about the kiss, of course, and about how she knew how Aurora made contact with Henry. There was something she wasn’t saying every time they had a conversation. He could see it in her eyes that she was hiding something, holding back information. Come to think of it, despite claiming to not know of her magic, she used it with more ease than any other amateur he’d seen. 

Glancing back, he realized she was further behind the group than was safe. A pang of fear shot through him at the thought of losing track of her or her being vulnerable to ogres should they come upon them. He slowed, slipping back, stopping to wait for Emma to catch up. 

Her eyes were fixed on the ground, lost in thought, so she hadn’t noticed he stopped until she was almost upon him. Her steps faltered, hesitation clear in her expression. “Hook.” Emma’s voice was soft, yet there was a stern undercurrent, almost a warning. She started walking again, with Hook stepping in time with her. Please don’t mention the kiss. She silently begged. Not now. Everything’s too confusing. 

He didn’t speak at first. Hell, he wasn’t sure how to start without saying something that would cause her to immediately shut him out. Perhaps…if he caught her off guard. She would expect him to try to bring up the kiss, but not his other suspicions. His gaze flickered to her form as they walked, though it was clear that Emma wasn’t speeding up to catch up to the others, meaning that she either gave up on avoiding him or she didn’t want to risk him following her to confront her and having the others overhear their conversation. Here goes nothing. “You knew about the dream realm before Aurora told you, didn’t you?”

Shock jolted her so badly, her feet stumbled, causing Hook to reach out to catch her. As his hands rested on her hips to steady her, Emma shot up to look at him, her eyes wide. How the fuck did he know that? “What?” 

Hook drew closer, keeping his voice low. “You knew what Aurora was going to say. Then when it was suggested Cora might return to the Safe Haven, you were relieved. Why?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Emma swallowed as Hook’s intense scrutiny pinned her in place. She could deny it, but her reaction to his accusations wouldn’t help her denials. In fact, it would’ve only cemented the truth to him. Pulling away from him, Emma started walking again, a little bit more speed in her step as her stumble had put them further behind the group than was safe. 

Hook hurried alongside her. “Swan, wait.” Her panicked look was one that told him that he was on the precipice of discovering what she was hiding. “Look, I meant what I said. I trust you, but if there’s something else going on, shouldn’t you tell the rest of us?” He looked ahead, hoping that no one would overhear so that Emma might be receptive to speaking with him. They didn’t need any interruptions. Not if he could get answers. 

Emma didn’t know how to respond to that. This wasn’t the time or place to go into the whole story of time travel. She wasn’t even sure if she should tell anyone, if it was even safe to tell anyone, about her inadvertent time traveling. “I…Hook, I can’t…” Emma started, but she couldn’t figure out what needed to be said. She stopped again to fully face him. 

He didn’t step closer this time, giving her some space to sort through her words. 

Emma’s mind raced as she tried to come up with excuses, denials, confirmations. She was completely torn as to what to do. The entire story was so bizarre that she would’ve thought she was crazy if she wasn’t living it right now. And she didn’t want to keep lying to him. Lies didn’t make for a friendship let alone a relationship. But things were too complicated. They needed to get Cora, open the portal, and get to Storybrooke. Then when everything settled down, she could figure out what to do. But how could she alleviate his suspicions for the moment?  

She looked away from him for a second to clear her head, only to realize the group was well ahead of them. She didn’t need the others wondering why she and Hook were hanging so far back. “Look, I can’t explain right now.” She might as well be honest for now. It would at least give her time to figure out what to do next. “This isn’t the time or place, okay? Let’s focus on getting back to Safe Haven and getting to Storybrooke.”

While he wasn’t keen on her not really answering his questions, she at least confirmed that something was going on. “All right, Swan.” Hook agreed. 

“Let’s catch up.” Emma said, hurrying along. “And one more thing, don’t tell the others, please? I’d rather keep this between us.”

He wasn’t sure what it was she was hiding, but if she didn’t think she could tell the others, and if he wanted to earn her trust, then he wouldn’t say anything. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

A small, slight smile from her soothed him just a bit. “I know.”

It wasn’t long before they caught up to the others without attracting attention.

Emma really hoped no one noticed just how far back she and Hook had been, especially her mother. Despite their talk, Emma knew her mother didn’t trust Hook and she’d be even more concerned over Emma after the whole revelation of her past and complete lack of parental figures in her life. 

After a time, Mulan finally stopped them. “We can’t go on like this.” She stalked over to Emma. “He’s too loud.” Her arm motioned up at Anton. “He’s going to attract too much attention.”

“We can’t leave him behind.” Aurora protested. 

“Taking him with us is only going to get us killed.” Mulan argued. 

“Well, he is bigger than the ogres.” Marian said. “He could just stomp on them.” 

“I’d rather not.” Anton winced. He wasn’t much for taking life, even if ogres were mindless killers. “I’d walk quieter if I could, but my size isn’t exactly helpful.”

Marian looked up at him. “That’s it, it’s your size that’s the problem.” She turned towards Emma. “Your magic, could it shrink him?” There was a lot that magic could do after all, certainly it could be used to help Anton.

The suggestion surprised Emma. Cora shrunk Anton somehow before bringing him to Storybrooke the first time around, but Emma had no idea how she did it. “I don’t know…I just learned about my magic.” 

“You can do it.” Marian encouraged. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Snow cut in, her brows tight. “Magic always comes with a price. It’s too risky.” Truthfully, Emma having magic worried Snow. She saw how magic corrupted others. Her daughter couldn’t fall down that path too. 

“But Emma did well at the castle.” Aurora reminded. “And there haven’t been consequences yet.” 

Her success at the castle was because she basically was pulling a few tricks Regina already taught her. Though from Regina’s own research, she hadn’t found the magic of True Love to follow the same rules as regular or dark magic. “Yeah, barely.” Emma shook her head. “I have no idea how to shrink him.”

“It won’t hurt to try.” Mulan grumbled, crossing her arms. “Better than being ogre food.”

How the hell could she shrink him? She didn’t know the right spell, or even if it was a spell. For all she knew, Cora might have given Anton a potion to shrunk him. In fact, she hoped that when they trapped Cora at Safe Haven, they could convince her to shrink Anton. That way he could live a normal life among humans whether here or in Storybrooke. 

She glanced at her mother, who still looked leery of the idea. Snow never was receptive of Emma’s magic and with everything that happened with Elsa, Emma saw just how much her mother was uncomfortable around it. Likely due to everything with Regina, but they never talked about it.  

His presence appeared behind her. “You can do it, love.” His voice was low, his tone supportive. 

Emma looked over her shoulder at him. 

Hook’s eyes were filled with faith in her. He gave a slight nod of encouragement. 

Emma sighed and turned towards Anton. “Okay, I’ll try, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“That’s okay.” Anton shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Still, if he was honest, he was terrified. He knew Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but she admitted to her lack of knowledge and skills in magic. As Emma lifted her hands and closed her eyes, Anton shut his own eyes, not wanting to watch in case something went wrong. 

Emma tensed up, uncertain about her success rate. What if she failed? What if she hurt Anton? What if she hurt the others? Leaning on her love for her family, Emma called forth her powers. She felt magic thrum in her veins, but it hesitated to unleash itself. 

His quiet, reassuring rumble reached her ears alone. “I believe in you, Emma.” 

That did it. She could, no, would, do this. Her body relaxed, her breathing became even. Emma could see Anton in her mind’s eye and willed her magic to do her bidding. Make him smaller. Make him human sized. She repeated over and over again in her head. Her magic responded and Emma released it.

Anton suddenly felt enveloped in warmth and then a sensation of falling, seeing bright light from behind his eyelids. When the light dissipated, he slowly opened his eyes, finding his previously tiny companions staring up at him. While he still towered over Princess Aurora, the shortest of the group, he was just over half a foot taller than the other women, and barely had an inch on Hook. 

With the exception of Hook and Emma, who still had her eyes closed, they were looking at him in wonder. 

“You did it, Emma!” Marian exclaimed, causing Emma to open her eyes.

Emma’s jaw dropped when she saw that Anton wasn’t all that much taller now. Instead of a towering giant, now he towered at a human-sized height. All of his limbs looked intact and there didn’t even seem to be a tear in his clothing or a hair out of place. “I did it.” She breathed out in utter disbelief. 

While Mulan looked relieved that he wouldn’t be making anymore noise, Aurora and Marian walked closer to Anton, prodding at him with compliments on how good a human he’d make. 

Emma glanced at her mother and her heart sunk. Snow didn’t look proud or awed. Instead, her brow furrowed and her face was tight, more than likely worried about what Emma’s use of magic would mean. 

Hook noticed Emma’s shoulders fell when she realized Snow White didn’t hold the pride that a mother should whenever her child accomplished something. That didn’t settle well with him, but he didn’t feel like analyzing why at the moment. Without thinking, he came to her side, hand drawing up to the back of Emma’s neck, a gesture meant to soothe. 

Her bright green eyes latched onto him.

“See, Swan,” He smirked. “You can’t fail. You’ll give Cora a run for her money if you keep this up.”

The blinding smile that appeared on her face sent his heart stuttering. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He grinned more genuinely than he had in a long, long time. “You’re amazing, Swan.” For a heartbeat, he knew they were going to kiss if he didn’t step back. He saw a longing fire in her eyes, which he felt matched his own desire. But this wasn’t the time or place, and she’d told him before, their kiss was a one-time thing. He wouldn’t allow her to do something she’d regret. Reluctantly, his hand dropped from her and he took a step back, noting the disappointment in her eyes. “Well done.”

Though she was disappointed, and relieved, that he hadn’t kiss her, Emma couldn’t stop smiling at his words. “Thanks, Killian.” 

Her soft proclamation of his name surprised him to his core. She hadn’t used his name all that much, preferring the Hook moniker as the others did. Only thrice before had he heard it from her lips, all on that blasted beanstalk, and each time, he felt his walls crumbling. It was then, as he watched her slowly turn away, giving him a lingering look of want, that he realized something. She didn’t use Hook because of him or the others; she was using it to keep a barrier between them. Hook was safer than Killian. Hook was who she needed him to be; Killian was who neither of them could handle at the moment. Shaking himself, his attention returned to the now human sized giant, shoving away his revelation. 

“All right, we need to keep moving.” Mulan declared. “We’re losing sunlight, and I’d like to make it back to Safe Haven before dark.”

As they began their trek, Snow fell into step with Emma. Quietly, she asked, “Emma, what did Hook say to you?” 

The question surprised her. “What do you mean?” 

“Before you shrunk Anton, when you were concentrating,” Snow began. “It looked like your magic wasn’t going to work, then he stepped closer to you and whispered something.” Snow’s expression was serious and concerned and oh so very motherly. “What did he say?”

I believe in you, Emma. 

“Nothing important.” Emma lied, avoiding her mother’s eyes. 

Instead, she looked ahead of them, where her pirate walked alongside Anton. 

She had to tell him the truth. As soon as they were alone and they had time, Emma would tell Killian everything. Her heart needed him to know, even if he came to hate her for it. 

[killiansprincss]

Timeless - a Captain Swan AU Chapter 11/19

Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

In which every chapter is inspired by a different Taylor Swift song.

Previous Chapters, AO3

This fic means the world to me and I would love for people to love it as much as I love it 🫶🏻

_________

CHAPTER 11 - WILDEST DREAMS

Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just pretend

___

“So that was a weird day.” Emma says as they get back into their carriage after their encounter with Rumple. “How are you doing?” Emma was cautious with Henry, seeing his adoptive mother look at him and not know who he was must have been horrible.

“That Regina, wasn’t Regina. She was, it was-”

“She was way too nice?” Emma suggests, making them both laugh.

“She seems happy though. And I’m glad she’s had a life without magic, she suits it. Robin makes her happy and I’m glad they found each other.” He comments, Emma has to agree, Regina was at times a horrible person and it clearly stems from her magic. “Does Hook make you happy?” Henry asks with the biggest smirk on his face.

Emma just laughs at her son, how could he compare what he saw with Robin and Regina to herself and Hook? “There is no correlation between those two things.” There wasn’t, she and Hook were not a thing before the curse, and she was still sure that he had something to do with getting the two of them together.

“How did you meet? In this world I mean?” He asks and Emma can’t help the smile that appears on her face as she recounts the memory.

“There was a ball, I danced with him under the impression he was a Prince or a Lord, but I eventually found him in the throne room trying to loot us.” She catches the smirk on Henry’s face as she continues trying to keep it age appropriate. “I met him again when I snuck out to a tavern, we got talking and I don’t know- something just clicked, I wanted to see him again. We hid our relationship for a few years and then he proposed, we planned to run away together. Long story short your grandparents weren’t happy about it, but they came around and offered him a Naval Captain position and let us marry.” She was so excited to marry him, she loved him, but those feelings were warped-she didn’t know if he had some role in this happening or not but it just didn’t explain why they met at the right place at the right time.

“I may not have had my memories, but I saw what was going on. I thought he was this ex boyfriend who you realised you were still in love with and that’s why you turned down Walsh’s proposal and we randomly went on a trip to Maine. You dumped me with him when you had saviour stuff to do, I thought it was a way for you to introduce me to him before you told me you were getting back together.” His explanation was pretty wild, but then again she wasn’t completely honest when they came back to Storybrooke. “Mom, if he makes you happy, I’m okay with it.”

“Thanks kid, but let’s save our town first.” That was the problem. He did make her happy. And she hated it. If she did decide to continue their relationship when the curse was broken, would she be as happy as she had been? Would Killian want to be with Emma Swan, the orphan, he fell in love with Princess Emma, and she was a very different person.

The ride back to the castle went by pretty quickly, Emma was lost in thought about what to do, and Henry fell asleep. She bids Henry goodbye just outside of the castle where Leo was waiting for them, “lie low for the next couple days and I’ll send word to you.”

When the carriage drops her back at the Castle, Emma runs up to her room, up the back staircase so nobody would see her. She takes a deep breath in and out once she's inside and the door is shut behind her.

“Everything okay, love?” A voice from behind her says.

Fuck.

“Killian, what are you doing here?” She asks as she turns round and sees her fiancée sitting on the bed with a book in his hand.

He moves up off the bed towards her and Emma’s heart starts to race, she knew she had to keep up the charade but she was nervous she would mess up. “Where have you been?”

She gives him the sweet smile she always gave him, well the other Emma gave him. “I was doing wedding prep, didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Wedding prep? What else is there to do?” He asks, coming closer and closer until his hand is pulling her closer until she is wrapped in his arms, and her heart begins pounding.

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a surprise.” It felt really good being in his arms, he smelt like the ocean and it would be so easy to fall back into the life she had been living, but she had a job to do.

He twists her round so they are now facing one another and he brings his lips to her ear, “I do love surprises.”

His lips move from her ear to her neck as he begins to place hot kisses along the side of her neck, slowly moving towards the column of her neck. Emma forgot how good this felt as she whisper moans his name, “Killian.”

She shouldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t right. But why did it feel so good? It was wrong to take it any further, but instinct took over and she grabbed the back of his head, pulling it towards her as she captures his lips and kisses him hard and fast. His lips tasted of sea salt just like he smelt and it made it that much harder to pull away, especially as he grabbed her legs and carefully places her on the bed. No, it couldn’t go any further than this. When he threw her on the bed, it was usually a quick and hard fuck to satisfy them both, but when he carefully placed her on the bed, this was when they took their time with each other and Killian would make sure to kiss every part of her body.

She tries to say his name, tries to stop but the way he kisses her felt so good. His fingers traced the edges of her thighs over her pants and she knew if he put his hand near her core how wet for him she would be.

No. She couldn’t do this, it wasn’t right. Killian wasn’t having sex with the right Emma and that would kill him. “Killian.” She finally manages to say, “stop. Not tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks as he raises himself up and off her body.

“It’s fine, I just don’t feel too well. I wanted to come home and get some rest, my head is still pounding.” It was a clever lie, he still had no idea where she was all day and wouldn’t ask.

“I will retreat back to my chambers then love.” He kisses her cheek, “I wish you regain your strength tomorrow, I hear your mother has a few tasks of her own for you.”

“Do you know what she has planned? My dress is not being fitted for another 2 weeks and the flowers are being imported from the Thimblewood kingdom.” She was rattling her cursed brain for what else was on her mother’s endless to do list.

“Not for the wedding, it’s for the ball.”

“Of course, of course. I just have our wedding on the brain.” She says nervously, hoping he believes her. Shit, their engagement ball. After officially courting for a year as Princess and Naval Captain, Killian was finally able to propose again and this ball was for everyone in the kingdom. Her parents pride themselves on the fact that Snow married a “commoner” and they should extend their invitations to balls to the same “commoners”. Except in the craziness of breaking the curse before their wedding, Emma had forgotten they had a ball this weekend to celebrate their engagement.

“Aye, I’m excited too, not long to go. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He takes her hands and places a kiss on both. She needed to make sure he wasn’t completely hurt when she breaks the curse.

“You don’t have to go.” She felt bad, he was waiting for his fiancée to come back home and she practically sent him away, that’s not what other Emma did. “I was going to have a bath, but I could use the company tonight, I missed you.”

“Do you wish for company in the bath?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“No Killian. But I am starving if you could get something from the kitchen that would be perfect.” She really needed just a few minutes alone with her thoughts.

He kisses her on the cheek again and Emma breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves. This was going to be a lot harder than she originally planned. She went over the plan as she drew the bath.

The ball was on Sunday, three days until then. She could busy herself with the planning until then and she had been to hundreds of balls over the years, she could get through the ball and then the next day Killian and her dad were travelling to the Kingdom Navarra which was the perfect journey. She would wait a few days until they were at Sea and would not be home for a while. That way she could poison her mother and her dad would come home, give her True Love's Kiss and they could go home. Home to Storybrooke, where she could figure out what she was feeling for the Pirate.

That night she goes to bed with Killian by her side as they have done hundreds of times before and it felt nice. Comforting. She had spent many nights alone in her life, cold and dark places and many in her car. But in this life she never had to worry about where she was sleeping that night, and she had a guy who loved her more than anything in the world beside her. She was going to hurt him when the curse breaks and she was prepared for him to hate her, but for now she enjoyed pretending she was still the Emma he loves.

____

The next few days leading up to the ball were hectic and Emma realised she had never seen her mom this stressed in Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest really highlighted how different they were.

“No. Those flowers are for the Grand Arch, not the Stairway!” She would yell at a poor servant who was just trying their best.

Normally when her mother was like this and planning a ball, she would try and excuse herself to see her brother or get Killian to come and save her. Except this time she was unable to do either as her brother was hopefully keeping her son hidden, and she found it hard to pretend to be Princess Emma in front of Killian, she didn’t need to spend any more time than she had to.

So she busies herself with tasks her mother assigns her, checking on the food and checking the servants list to see who would be working. Her name glosses over the list, and one name pops up that she has a bad feeling about one of the servants conveniently named “Harry Potter.” Dammit Leo, he was meant to keep Henry hidden, not put him to work.

At night she returns to her room and is asleep before she catches Killian, thankfully he was getting his ship ready for the venture he and her father would be taking the day after the ball. It was also out of pure exhaustion that she falls asleep almost instantly from her mother working her very hard.

When the day of the ball eventually arrives, Emma does her best to put on her Princess act and also play the very important part of the excited fiancée, it was her engagement ball after all. It was just one night and then Killian would be gone and arrive back just as her parents break the curse. Then everything would go back to normal. They would be back in Storybrooke by this time next week and she could go back to being Sheriff and could deal with him then.

___

It’s very easy to pretend to be the Crown Princess everyone loved, she had been that girl for most of her life. She knew the right etiquette of a ball, unlike the first ball they held for her parents' coronation, she must have stepped on the toes of many young Princes, and she did not hold herself the way a young Princess should have. She had fond memories of that life, it was real, she remembers it clear as day, just as she remembers being the same age and having her foster family say they don’t want her anymore and going back to another group home.

Her dress was beautiful, there was no other way to describe it. It was a deep shade of Red, similar to the colour of her trusted leather jacket, with a sweetheart neckline with subtle white detailing. It was plain and her hair was swooped back into a low bun at the back of her head with a few curled pieces framing the front of her face. Her tiara sat nicely on the top of her head, it was a simple crown compared to ones she had worn previously, simple white gems and small flowers that complimented the dress.

“You look stunning Emma.” Killian tells her as she walks into the entryway before they are presented. She can’t help but smile as she sees Killian, he always had that effect on her.

“You look very dashing.” She says as she takes his arm as the double doors open to the ball. He was dressed differently to his naval uniform she had come accustomed to last year, he was wearing a light brown coat with black lapels, a little more open than a suit her father would wear. He suited this look, she just could not imagine him wearing jeans and a plaid shirt like her father. As she looked out at the crowd of people in front of her, it made her realise how much she missed Storybrooke.

Emma knew royal etiquette, this was not her first ball. But it was the first one she was facing awake from whatever these past few years have been. She feels her hand being squeezed and looks away from the crowd to the man beside her, he gives her a simple nod as if to say ‘you can do this’.

He knew she was feeling overwhelmed. He would always give her hand a squeeze when she was stressed or nervous or anything in between. She doesn't know how he could tell, but he just could. And it would always work. Including tonight. She takes a deep breath as they descend the stairs to their faithful subjects and Emma allows herself to become Princess Emma, whose wedding she was terribly excited for in just a few short weeks.

She spends most of the night dancing, mainly with Killian who was an incredible dance partner, even when she had forgotten a few steps covered her. She also spends it talking to everyone.

“I’m very excited for the wedding.”

“Thank you very much for coming.”

“No, No plans for children just yet.”

“You will all see the Wedding Dress on the day, no early surprises.”

It became exhausting by the end of the night, she remembers when she and Leo were younger and would sneak into the kitchens, back when nobody cared about the Princess and Little Prince. She couldn’t exactly sneak out of her own engagement ball. Or so she thought.

“Want to get away?” Killian whispers as the crowd starts to die down.

Emma nods her head, “Please.”

He takes her hand and glides through the dying crowd towards the back of the ballroom, keeping an eye on the front to make sure they were not being followed. She follows him up the stairs to the second floor, and crosses the hall to another staircase and up another floor until he leads her to a bookcase and Emma knows where he was taking her. They push the bookcase to reveal the hidden staircase to the top of the castle. They can see everything from up there, all of Misthaven.

“I’m going to miss this place.” She catches herself saying. It was beautiful, it was called the Enchanted Forest for a reason, enchanting was the only way she could describe it. She looks up at the sky and can see the stars clear as day, she can point out the different constellations in the sky as well as the moon at its highest peak. You wouldn’t be able to spot the stars in the sky in cities like New York or Boston, too much light pollution and bustling traffic.

“Why? Where are you going?” Killian asks.

“I mean I will miss being able to do this, sneak away and come up here. Once we’re married I fear we will not get these moments to ourselves anymore.” She carefully lies, not wanting to accidentally say something about Storybrooke.

Killian smiles, “I understand. It’s why I thought I would bring you up here, think of it as our last night of freedom. The stars are out, and I want you to dance with me.”

Emma looks up at the stars, it was a beautiful night. “Dance with you? But there isn’t any music.”

Killian just extends his arm out, “Imagine the music.”

Emma has to laugh as she takes his hand and he pulls her closely, moving as if nature was playing the song they could both hear in their heads as they moved slowly together. This life she had was beautiful, and she wonders how many people she could hurt by waking them up. She almost wishes she could fall back asleep and go on with life as it was, despite how much she missed electricity and modern plumbing. But she was the saviour, it was her job to do the right thing. This life was not the life she was meant to have, she was put through the wardrobe to save everyone.

“What are you thinking about?” Killian asks, noticing her lost in thought looking at the stars.

She takes her eyes off the stars and looks into Killians blue eyes, “I want you to remember me in this moment. If something happens, if anything goes wrong over the next few weeks and we are not able to be married. Remember me, in this moment, together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t know what the future holds. What if something happens on your trip and I never see you again? Or you come back and I’m a completely different person?”

Killian tucks a loose strand of her behind Emma’s ear, “my love, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m a survivor. Nothing will happen. And I will love you, no matter who you become.”

She raises her chin to look at him properly, the scruff on his face and the small scar above his right eyebrow he got from a fight with another Pirate years ago, and his eyes as blue as the sea. This man loved her, and it was going to kill him when she woke him up.

“ad astra per aspera.” He whispers to her as he captures her lips with his and Emma swears she can hear fireworks.

It was a latin phrase he had taught her when they had first got together, meaning ‘to the stars with difficulties’ or something like that, but it meant that she would look to the stars on a night she felt alone and know he was there for her, no matter how hard it was to be apart, he was there.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: given the choice [part one]

well, this one has been printed, sewn and glued--complete with boards--for almost a year. i just hit a block with perfecting the final steps because it involved hopping between 3 different computers. worked out in my favor, though, because i was able to use the most beautiful bookcloth for the spine strip and push myself to finish something i'm really happy with.

the story given the choice by @iverna

one of the true classics. a season 3b divergence with no missing year but plenty of adventure. technically part one as this is a WIP and this is not even inclusive of everything that's been posted. just stopped at a natural stopping point so that i could enjoy it. and honestly--this story is so good that i'm just so grateful it stops at a natural stopping point and i have what is already written to enjoy as many times as i choose.

the binding half-letter folio sewn boards. cover art by @iverna printed inkjet on canvas and finished with a decorative gloss. titling in HTV glitter. bedazzled because of who i am as a person.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two

[grimmswan]

Dracula in Storybrooke part 7

@cssns

For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

Once Upon A Time - Emma Swan and Killian Jones

 While the monster inside of him demanded that he destroy Dracula, the man worried about being seen as a monster in the eyes of the woman he loved.

“Emma.” Killian spoke softly as he pulled her to him. “We never really talked about it. And I know you and your parents always want to redeem the villain. How do you feel about killing Dracula?”

“That it is necessary.” Emma sighed. “Normally there would be a chance of setting things right and redeeming the villain. But in this case, it’s not possible. The only way to save everyone is to take Dracula’s power from him. And taking his power is sure to destroy him. We don’t have a choice. Especially if we’re going to turn you human again.”

Killian was relieved to hear that he and his true love were on the same page.

Snow and Charming were of the same mind, as usual. They wanted to protect their daughter. Dracula was a threat to her safety and happiness. Therefore, he needed to be ended, for good.

“We need to corner him somewhere, so the pirate can do his monster thing and end the guy.” Leroy suggested.

“We’d have to lure him somewhere to make cornering him possible.” Whale said. “Maybe we should use Emma as bait?”

“You’re not using her as bait!” Charming, Snow, and Killian all shouted angrily at the same time.

Fearing for his safety, Whale backed up several feet and said, “I’m only suggesting it because she is who Dracula wants. If you know of a better bait, let’s hear it.”

“He’s right.” Emma said. “It’s me Dracula wants. If he thinks I’m alone and vulnerable somewhere, he’ll follow me.”

Killian kept shaking his head. Emma cupped his jaw, running her thumb over his stubble. “You know this is the best way. And I trust that whatever creature has suddenly awakened inside you will get to Dracula before he gets to me.”

“I’ll tear Dracula’s non beating heart from his body.” Killian vowed. “The closer he gets to you, the more agonizing I’ll make his demise.”

At that moment, Smee walked into the diner with a triumphant grin on his face. “I found it! I knew I had it among my things somewhere, and I finally found it.”

“Found what?” Killian asked. 

“Van Helsing's journal.”

“I had Van Helsing's journal.” Whale said with a frown, “I misplaced it years ago. But my former professor gave it to me when he retired.”

“You didn't misplace it. I stole it from you.” Smee replied matter of factly.

“When did you do that?”

 When our memories returned. I saw it in your office. I thought it would be of use to me.” Hook’s former first mate answered as though he was not going to get in trouble for just admitting theft.

But considering all of the other shady things he had been up to in the past, and all of the trouble he had gotten into (Like being turned into a rat) it stood to reason that punishment from the sheriff was not high on his list of concerns.

“You can decide if you want to press charges later.” Charming told Whale “Right now, we need to find out if Van Helsing ever figured out how to end Dracula, for good.”

“Well, as it happened, I can’t actually read it. It's in German.” Smee explained. He then handed it to his former captain.

“Just how many languages did they teach you in the Royal Navy?” Emma asked teasingly with a big smile on her face.

“When you travel the realms, it's Important to be able to communicate with those who can give you supplies.”

Killian flipped through the pages until he spotted the words vampire and Dracula. He then translated outloud to the group.

“I have discovered ancient scrolls hidden in the depths of an old church. They spoke of a prince's transformation from man to monster. To conquer his enemies, he consumed the blood of a creature from another realm. It gave him great strength and great speed. Made him immortal. It made him able to do many wondrous things. But that power came with a price. He had to take the life force from others. And he became a monster. 

I have learned of beings that were known as Dracula’s enemies. He seemed to have feared them when he feared nothing else. They were called the hunters. Strong, powerful beings. But driven to extinction on Dracula’s orders. He sent his minions out in hoards in order to eradicate the beings he feared would end him. The only hope of salvation from the monster, is if the blood of a hunter is awakened in a descendent.”

“So you've become a hunter?” David asked Killian. 

“It would certainly seem so.” Killian nodded. 

“Then we have the advantage we need.” Snow said.

“We already had one advantage. What with your daughter being a source of vampire repellent.” Leroy reminded his queen.

“Does it say how the hunter can destroy Dracula?” Emma asked, eager to see this big bad gone for good.

“Apparently, only a hunter has the strength and speed to rip off Dracula’s head and tear out his heart.”

“Well that's pretty graphic.” Whale commented. “It makes sense that the pirate would have enough brutality in him to kill a real monster.”

No one deemed it important to react in any way to Whale's comment. 

“The best place to corner Dracula would be in a cave or stone fortress.” Snow advised. “That would also give Killian the best advantage. Dracula can't run from him if there is nowhere for him to go.”

Coming up with a plan, the group gathered and infused as many crystals as they could find. Even if they were separated in the battle, those without special abilities would still have the protection of light.

Snow tied light infused crystals to her arrow. David used the crystals on his sword.

Emma’s magic and Killian’s new powers meant they did not need additional weapons for this battle.

Both Whale and Smee were completely useless as warriors, so they stayed behind. Much to their relief.

The hunter blood that awakened within Killian gave him the ability to know exactly where the vampires were hiding.

The Tunnels.

The dwarves and the fairies had the simple task of placing glowing sun crystals at every opening of the cave system. That way no vampire would be able to get through.

The rest of the heroes followed Killian to where his instincts were telling him Dracula had hid his coffin.

Emma knew that Drake would remain hidden as long as she was close to her parents and Killian. She also knew that they would not approve of her plan if she told them, so as slowly and quietly as she could, she moved away from them and down a shadowed corridor.

Credit where credit was due, Whale was right when he said she was perfect Dracula bait.

“Emma” The familiar voice came from the shadows. “You are very far away from that pirate. Tell me, what did you think when I turned him into one of my kind?”

“I didn’t really think anything. But Killian has a way of scrambling my brain whenever he kisses me.” Emma didn’t want to mention Killian being turned into a hunter, in case Dracula didn’t know.

As if reading her thoughts, he said with a growl. “And now he is a greater monster,” Realizing he was losing control of himself, and failing in his seduction, he calmed his voice and said, “But he still lacks my special skills.”

“Trust me, Killian has his own special skills. I know that from personal experience.”

Her tactic to draw him out of the shadows by antagonizing him worked.

He came flying toward her, hissing, “I will make you forget all about him, and his skills you like so much!”

“I doubt that! Vlad!” Killian shouted.

Dracula stopped his approach to Emma. And gave a long loud hiss at Killian, “Hunter! You will die like the rest of your ancestors!”

Killian’s eyes began to glow a hypnotic blue. His nails elongated to razor sharp talons.

Dracula’s eyes grew large and wide with fear at seeing the emergence of his age-old enemy in his rival. But he composed himself, refusing to allow his enemy to witness his weakness.

Dracula may have been afraid, but Emma, though she only said the words in her mind, found Killian’s transformation to be a huge turn on.

The two monsters lunged at each other. Snarls and growls echoed through the chamber as the two wrestled for dominance.

In order to help, Emma focused on her love for Killian. She used it to fuel her power, making the light within her emerge, surround her, and grow to encompass the entire area.

Dracula screamed in agony. The light both blinded him and burned his skin.

Inserting his hook deep into Dracula’s neck, Killian held the vampire in place as his clawed hand dug deep into his chest and ripped out the beast’s heart.

Once Emma’s bright light hit the black organ, it burned and crumbled into dust.

Killian’s hook slashed deeper into Drake's neck, severing his head from the rest of his body.

As Dracula’s body suffered the same fate as his heart, Emma saw Killian’s claws regress back into his usual well manicured nails. His beautiful eyes dimmed back to their usual mischievous sparkle. And his usual smirk returned, minus the long fangs.

Answering Emma’s unasked question, Killian nodded. “I’m my devilish self again, love.”

Emma sighed with relief. “Hopefully everyone else he turned is human again, too.”

“You know that they are. Don’t try to distract me from asking you why you put yourself in danger like that.”

“You know it was the only way to get Dracula to come out of hiding.” Emma moved to Killian, giving him her best flirty smile. “Besides, I knew you would come to my rescue.”

“Are you using your feminine wiles to stop me from being upset with you?”

“Of course. And I know it’s working.”

“Naughty minx. I’ve always said you have a little pirate in you.”

“I have a pirate in me pretty frequently these days.”

They pulled each other close and sealed their lips in a joyful and passionate kiss.

[stubblesandwich]

Return To Me - Chapter 4

A/N: It was requested I post this here, as well, so here ya go! (Sorry if I double tagged anyone.) I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you endlessly to anyone still following this story. You have all my love.

Summary: Emma Swan is dying. Her last remaining hope is a heart-transplant, and those aren't easy to come by. But, as luck would have it, fate finds her worthy, and on a stormy autumn night, Emma is given a second chance at life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Boston hospital, Killian Jones has been devastated by the sudden loss of his wife.

Inspired by the 2000 film of the same title with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny. Find on A03 here

++++++

Chapter Four - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Three Weeks Post-Op 

Emma had been called a cynic plenty of times in her life. As it turned out, being pushed through the foster system for a decade and a half hadn’t exactly turned her into a beaming optimist. Like most cynics, she claimed she was actually a realist. She planned for the worst, because things tended to not work out that great for her, and hoped for the best. Sometimes she was pleasantly surprised. 

But in the litany of potential outcomes Emma had been preparing herself for, a new heart had never actually made the list. It was akin to winning the lottery, in her mind. Life had not been particularly kind to her. Yet, she had always taken her blows in stride, and she never took handouts. And the prospect of finally making it to the top of the transplant list at the age of twenty-six, after almost a decade of waiting, felt like a handout from life. 

Emma Swan had never been one to sit around waiting for handouts. 

There were other things she had prepared herself for. Increasing the handful of pills she took each day to keep her body from failing on her any faster. Moving from her full time job and supporting herself completely on her own to working part time, then very part time, to not at all. Getting on a government disability program. Each new punch to the gut from life she took in stride, as best she could. 

And through it all, righting her each and every time she stumbled, were David and Mary Margaret. They were some of the best, most genuine and caring people ever to be placed on planet earth. She didn't deserve them—there was a small, cruel voice in the back of her head that affirmed this for her every day. But they just kept showing up for her, and they wouldn’t leave, and they wouldn’t let her quit. 

As it turned out, after the first week, getting a whole new vital organ sewn into her chest wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. By the third week, the pain was starting to subside, transitioning into a residual soreness, and her biggest struggle currently was not clawing at her incision every time it itched. When the skin itself didn’t feel like an odd mixture of both tight and numb, it felt ablaze with itchiness. It was all she could do not to scratch at it. (Every time she did, Mary Margaret would bark at her to stop it, or David would throw a random item in her direction. Most recently, it had been a box of tissues that had narrowly missed her head, and he threatened to get an extendable fly swatter to swat her with, as needed.) 

For the first time in her life, Emma was well and truly doted upon. She had family members who inarguably refused to leave her side. That is, of course, until Mary Margaret was forcibly removed by way of her impending school year start. 

She’d had almost a month left of her summer break when Emma had had her operation, and she had been able to push almost all of her classroom prep off until the very last minute. David helped her ready her room when he could, but Emma knew her friend was fraying at the seams from trying to do so much in such a short span of time. Mary Margaret had a handful of vacation days, but she hoarded them like a dragon for true emergencies, and worried constantly that if her students started off the school year with a substitute teacher, they would just end up watching movies all day instead of actually learning something. 

This was their last weekend before the new school year started and Mary Margaret went back to working full days. Emma was lounging on the couch, dozing, lidded eyes half focused on the episode of Friends quietly playing on the living room TV. She and Mary Margaret had just finished putting together twenty-five “Welcome back!” folders for her incoming students, as well as a second set for their parents. 

“Why couldn't they have been ready for you to have the surgery during the start of summer?” Mary Margaret lamented, as she plopped her last folder down on the pile.  “I would have had three months off to be here with you!” 

David glanced over at them from the pile of pans he was washing at the kitchen sink and gave his wife an odd look. “You do realize you're wishing the woman whose heart Emma has now had died earlier in the year instead of later, right?” 

Mary Margaret looked aghast. “No! Of course I don’t wish that. I didn't... I just meant...” 

David raised his eyebrows at her, but by now he was smiling gently at his wife. Mary Margaret huffed. A slightly awkward silence settled between the three of them. The fact that another person was dead and Emma was still alive because of it was something they all knew but typically left unsaid. David had said it out loud, and now the strangeness of that fact settled over them all heavily. 

“I wonder what she was like,” Emma murmured from her spot on the couch, puncturing the silence. “They couldn't tell me much. Well, couldn't or wouldn't, not sure which. All they said was that she was older than me, but not by too much, and in great health. Obviously we had to have the same blood type. But they couldn't tell me how she died, just that it didn't affect her heart.” 

“Probably head trauma,” David said sagely. Emma winced at the thought, but he was likely right. He had seen enough as an officer to know. Especially working night shifts, when the majority of car accidents took place in the area. 

“That sounds awful,” Mary Margaret said quietly.

“I'd never say I was glad someone else died,” David said after a while. “But I'm glad Emma's still with us.” The fact that these things were one in the same went unsaid. Mary Margaret reached over and squeezed Emma’s arm in gentle agreement with her husband. Emma glanced over at her and offered her sister-in-law a small smile, trying to convey to her without having to say it aloud that it was okay. 

But in truth, Emma was uncomfortable. It just made her feel so strange, knowing that for every happy moment she now got to have here with her family, someone out there was living new moments, making new memories, without their own loved one to share them with. Someone out there was grieving a tremendous loss—had lost a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife. The woman whose heart Emma now had could have been any one of those things, or all of them at once. She was presumably loved, adored, missed dearly. And Emma just didn’t know what to do with that information, how to carry these feelings with grace and proper gratitude. Often they \manifested in the form of guilt. David and Mary Margaret were quick to talk her out of that whenever it came up. That woman’s death meant something, they assured her. Part of her lives on, and part of her saved a life. That has to mean something to her family, right? 

They were right, Emma knew. David saw so much meaningless death in his line of work that she inherently believed him when he told her that it was a gift, her being able to use someone else’s heart. (She didn’t have the courage to ask him how he would feel about any of Mary Margaret’s vital organs going to someone else, if she died.) It was a guilt she carried nonetheless, and she carried it poorly. It was an awkward shape, this guilt, and heavy, and she didn’t know how to carry it well. It all too often made her fumble. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said Mary Margaret looked over at her sharply, instantly suspicious that Emma was still feeling off from the previous conversation, but Emma was quick to wave away her worry. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Really. I just feel grimy, and I don’t want to taint the epicness of Last Dinner with my stink.” This was their last evening—Last Dinner—before Mary Margaret returned to work full time, and they were marking the occasion with David’s mother’s famous lasagna recipe, a favorite from David and Emma’s semi-shared childhood (and coincidentally the only meal David really knew how to make, but that was beside the point). 

“I second the vote for a shower,” David said, raising his hand in mock vote. 

“You would,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes that David didn’t even need to see to know was there. Mary Margaret started to rise with her, as if about to help her to her feet. “Relax, woman,” Emma said, putting her hand on her friend’s shoulder gently to stop her. “I’ve got it. I’m not a complete invalid.” 

“Jury’s still out,” came David’s response. 

Emma looked at Mary Margaret, half expecting her to admonish her husband, but Mary Margaret just stared up at her with poorly veiled anxiety. “I’m not!” Emma said. “Guys, it’s been almost a month.” 

“Three weeks,” Mary Margaret corrected. “Since you got a new heart. Not since you got your tonsils removed.” 

“Okay,” Emma said, stretching out her back a bit as she stood there, chasing a kink out between her shoulder blades. “Sure, it was a big surgery.” David scoffed from his place by the sink, and Emma shot him a warning look. “But the doctors even said I have to try to do more on my own. I think it’s safe to say that includes showering.” There was no argument from David on that one. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked unconvinced. 

“What if you slip and fall?” 

“I’ll be sure to have my Life Alert button handy,” Emma retorted wryly. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. I can handle showering.” Before they could argue any further, Emma slipped away, locking herself in the bathroom.   

“Let me know if you need any help, okay?” Mary Margaret called through the door in a singsong voice only a few moments later. Emma swore she heard the doorknob jiggle, like her friend was testing to see if it was locked or not. It was, thankfully. Emma was already halfway undressed, and the last thing she needed was for her brother to get an accidental peep show because his wife thought Emma had already gotten stuck behind the toilet and died or something. “Emma?” 

Oh, my God, Emma mouthed to herself. “Thanks,” she called out. “I will!” That seemed to appease Mary Margaret. But the faint squeak of the bar stool at the kitchen island assured Emma she hadn't gone far. It was endearing, how much they worried about her. At least, that's what she told herself in the moments like this, when it was almost impossible to find even just two seconds of privacy. Sometimes, she really did feel like she was a little kid again. Only now, she was re-living a much different version of her childhood. A sweeter, kinder version wherein people actually wanted to take care of her and didn't think of her as a monumental burden. 

The tub's faucet squeaked shrilly as she turned on the water. When she’d first gotten home a week ago, just that motion, gripping the handle and giving the antique metal a yank, had left her arm feeling like a limp noodle. She was doing much better now, but she still felt pathetically weak and exceptionally out of shape. At one point, long ago, she had been fairly strong. A thin child, but always scrappy. Now she was a pale waif, muscles atrophied over the years as she'd gotten sicker. She vowed to herself that was going to change. Despite how frail she was, at the same time, she legitimately felt like she could take on the world now, with this new heart. She could finally breathe, take a breath fully in and out, without feeling lightheaded. That alone was a miracle.  

Gingerly, she lifted her tank top up over her head. Her scar, where a surgeon had cut into muscle and bone and forcibly ripped open her sternum, stood out, an angry red slash against alabaster skin. For the first few weeks, it had been concealed by gauze. By this point, it was still tender, but her doctor encouraged her to air it out often. She even had some skin mobility exercises she was supposed to be doing daily, to help the layers of tissue beneath the scar not permanently adhere to one another. The scar itself stretched from the top of her chest, dropping down in between her breasts, all the way past her sternum bone. It was a thick, gnarled thing, aesthetically ugly; but she found herself overwhelmingly grateful for it the longer she looked at it. As ugly as it was, this scar meant she was going to live to see her next birthday. 

Washing herself was still a slow, cautious process, but much easier than it had been when she’d first gotten out of the hospital. She took the time now to do her full, luxury, self care princess shower routine, something she hadn’t had the strength to do in months.  The venting system in the loft's tiny bathroom was terrible, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, steam cloaked the room like a fog. The sheer dampness of the air made her cough when she inhaled. Emma didn't care; she felt amazing. It was easy to underestimate how much better a good shower could make a person feel. She felt human again, instead of the fresh-from-the-hospital, invalid goblin she’d been feeling like for the past few weeks. Humming to herself, she dried off, turbaned her wet hair, and started to dress. 

David had the water running at the sink, and the apartment’s ancient radiator had kicked on next to the bathroom; when Emma finally opened the bathroom door, her brother and sister-in-law didn’t hear the faint creak of the old wood on its hinge as it started to open. 

“But you love your classroom.” David was saying in a low voice. It was clear he was trying to be fairly quiet, but this felt like intruding in on a conversation that had been going on for several minutes. Possibly the whole time she’d been in the shower. 

Emma didn't hear Mary Margaret sigh, but she could tell by the tone of her voice that her words had come on the end of one. “Of course I do,” she said, “And I really do miss my kids. But Emma needs me here. I can't just leave her! She just got a new heart, David. A heart. It's not like she had her wisdom teeth removed and just needs a day or two to get back on her feet.” 

The aforementioned heart skipped a beat in Emma's chest. A familiar, sinking feeling of guilt settled low and heavy in Emma's stomach. 

“But she will get back on her feet,” David said gently. “You know she will. She just needs time.” 

“Exactly! And she needs me here to help her until she does.” 

“No, she doesn't.” 

“David—” 

“Mary Margaret,” David interrupted lovingly. “She's going to be okay. Better than okay. This is the day we've all been waiting for, don't forget. She's getting a second chance at life here.” Unexpected tears welled in Emma's eyes at that. “And Emma knows that,” David continued. “You and I both know she's going to be chomping at the bit to get back out there. It's going to be hard enough keeping her here the six weeks it'll take for her to heal. She's not going to need our help half as much as you think she will.” 

Mary Margaret started to respond, but Emma couldn't take it anymore. She took the bathroom's old doorknob in her hand and gave it a good rattle, like she had just started to open it, and the door creaked loudly as she pushed it fully open. David and Mary Margaret grew hush until Mary Margaret piped up with, "Oh, hi Emma!" a little too brightly. David noticeably busied himself with cutting the garlic bread he’d pulled out of the oven moments before. The guilt at having eavesdropped coiled in Emma's chest like a snake ready to spring, and she swallowed around the lump that had grown in her throat. “Hey,” she said, trying her best to sound normal.

“Everything go okay?” Mary Margaret asked. “No dizziness?” 

“I didn’t hear the Life Alert alarm go off,” David said dryly, shooting his sister a wink. 

“I feel amazing,” Emma said earnestly. “Seriously.” She sidled up to her brother and successfully bumped him out of the way, taking over the cutting of the garlic bread despite his weak protestations. 

“Oh, good,” Mary Margaret breathed, and the relief was evident in her voice. She shared a glance with David, which Emma pointedly ignored, and moved to grab the stack of dishes waiting on the island so she could start setting the table. 

“I was thinking,” Emma went on, “Maybe I could come help you set up your classroom later today. If you think you need the help. Or I could just come keep you company, get a change of scenery.” 

“That sounds like a great idea,” David said, as he watched his wife’s expression. 

“That would be great, honestly,” Mary Margaret said, but was quick to add, “As long as you’re feeling up to it.” 

“I mean, as long as you don’t have me lugging around twenty-pound carts of Crayons or something,” Emma laughed, “I think I’ll be okay.” 

“Do fourth graders still use crayons?” David asked, as he popped open the oven one final time and withdrew the lasagna. The cheese on top was browning and bubbling and a minute away from burnt, just the way his mother had always cooked it, and the whole thing looked wonderful. 

“Not really,” Mary Margaret said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter. I have a big, handsome deputy to do all my heavy lifting for me.” She batted her eyes at her husband a few times, who grinned back at her. 

“All right, lovebirds,” Emma said, as she clicked the salad tongs at them a few times in playful warning. “Let’s eat. I’ve got my appetite back and I’m actually starving.” 

“Jeez,” David said, “You’d think she’d gotten a new stomach with the heart. She’s gonna eat us out of house and home now.”

Table set, food out, they took their respective seats. David uncorked a bottle of red wine he’d been saving for a special occasion, which Emma was definitely not allowed to have, but she told Mary Margaret to enjoy it for her. 

As Mary Margaret spooned squares of lasagna onto everyone’s plate, Emma took a moment to try to find the right words to say to convey how she was feeling to these people who would seemingly do anything in the world for her. But what she wanted most is for them to get back to living their lives, too. They had put off so much for her sake, and she was more grateful than she knew how to say. But it was time to move on now, to heal, for all of them. 

“I know it can suck, having such a huge surgery,” Emma started, pausing to clear her throat. “But this is different.” She glanced up at Mary Margaret, who was watching her closely. “I mean, a month ago, I was dying. I never told you guys this, but it just felt like the end. I was working on drafting a will.” 

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret said quietly. 

“That’s so morbid,” David said.

“I know it’s stupid.” Emma toyed with the end of her napkin as she stared down at her plate.  “I don’t really have anything to will to anyone. I was just going to leave anything I had to you guys.” She cleared her traitorous throat again and took a moment to blink back some tears. She needn’t have bothered; when she glanced up at her family, they were both openly tearing up as they looked at her. “Okay, stop,” she said, pointing her fork at them, “Or I’m going to lose it. Absolutely no crying in baseball.” 

“Got it,” Mary Margaret said, her voice watery and absolutely unconvincing. 

“Just… Thank you,” Emma said, when she finally got her voice back under control. “I don’t want to think about where I’d be without you both. From the bottom of both my hearts,” she said, with a wry little smile she couldn’t keep at bay, “Thank you.” 

David chuckled, wiping at his eyes, and Mary Margaret continued to stare at her, smiling and barely holding back the floodgates. “We love you, sis,” David said, and a moment later he raised his wineglass. “To Emma’s new lease on life.” Mary Margaret’s wine glass followed, and Emma clinked her water glass with theirs. 

“And Mary Margaret’s new school year,” Emma added. 

“Hear, hear,” Mary Margaret agreed. “I’ll take prayers, good vibes, anything you’ve got.” 

“You’re going to do great,” David assured her, as he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to kiss her cheek. “Those kids are lucky to have you.”

Dinner was splendid, and the company even better. It was the first full meal Emma was able to enjoy without feeling nauseated, which was a win in her book. She literally couldn’t think of the last time that had happened. Mary Margaret did indeed have Emma’s wine, and was perhaps a little tipsy when they later ventured out to put some finishing touches on her classroom, which just made it all the more enjoyable for Emma and David. 

And as Emma settled into bed that night, for the first time in a long time, she felt well and truly good. She felt full, warm, strong, and loved. And she knew, felt sure in her bones, that this was the start of one of the best years of her life. 

+++++

The funeral went as well as a funeral could--especially considering there was no actual body to bury. Milah had set it up long beforehand that all salvageable organs were to be donated to the nearest hospital at the time of her death, then the rest of her body donated to science. This made planning her funeral and memorial service a unique affair, as there was no body for a wake, no urn of ashes received. That he would receive later, whenever the hospital saw fit. So Killian honored his wife's memory the best way he could. 

Everyone who had ever known her in the past few years since she and Killian had moved Stateside was crammed into a small funeral home to celebrate her life and speak well of her. Her parents were long dead, but he had managed to get his hands on some childhood photos from her aunt who still lived across the pond; a small smattering of her extended relatives had sent cards to pay their respects. But the room was filled primarily with her coworkers and friends she’d made in the few years they’d lived in Boston. 

Milah had been a truly gifted photographer, both in her work and personal life, evidence of which sat neatly framed and displayed on nearly every available inch of table space in the room. All the best photos Milah had ever taken through her work had been printed and framed and displayed, tucked neatly between bouquets of flowers. One table was so long, it took up the entire back wall. 

Killian had almost, almost, completely lost the last tenuous grip he had on his sanity when the wrong flowers had come in that morning. He had distinctly ordered stargazer lilies, his wife’s favorite flower, for the table arrangements. Instead, what had been delivered to him were a rainbow assortment of Gerber daisies, of all things, which he viewed on this particular day as nothing short of an abomination. As it turned out, there had been a mistake with the delivery trucks, and his order had been sent to a birthday party instead. It probably should have embarrassed him, how angry a simple mix up of flowers had made him. But as he had very little pride left, he was literally seeing red, until Robin showed up beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently steered him out the side door and outside for some fresh air. Will took over, his general belligerence a helpful and actually useful tool that day, and tried to get the flowers sorted out with minimal shouting. 

As Killian stood now, gazing down at the myriad of perfect photos his wife had taken over the course of her career, he belatedly realized he had been the star of many of them, unbeknownst to him. His wife had apparently been a ninja behind her viewfinder when he wasn’t paying attention. It should have made him feel awkward, being the focal point of so many of her photographs; the last thing he wanted now was attention. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at most of them. One of him leaning over the railing of a dock, for instance, staring pensively out at sea, squinting slightly in the light of the sun. Another of him from behind, a shadowed figure standing on the beach with his toes buried in the sand and his hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring out at the red slashed sky of an oncoming storm. He was the blurred, black clad figure in the background or at the helm in several photographs of the ships he and his brother had helped restore. 

It was visible, tangible proof of how much she had loved him, how often her camera found itself pointed in his direction, focused on him. And God, if that didn’t make him miss her all the more. His heart was an open wound, and he was never going to be able to staunch the flow from it. Day by day, he felt like he was bleeding out, until soon there would be nothing left of him. 

One photo, his favorite, and one that was already framed in his home, stood out prominently. His and his brother, Liam, in front of their first real score for the ship restoration foundation, a beautiful, towering piece of history in the form of a stunning antique merchant vessel. Liam’s arm was thrown over Killian’s shoulders, his face alight with absolute joy (and possibly the buzz from the beers they’d had over lunch). They were both squinting, laughing like fools at having finally pulled it off. Towering behind them, not to be overshadowed, was the ship, herself: the Jewel of the Realm. Milah had been sent by a local paper to get photos of the ship, and her new owners, as a focal point for a story on local maritime history. 

Killian felt fortunate he remembered that day so well. It had felt like the best day of his entire life, at the time. Seeing his brother so elated, after everything they had endured together, had been enough to send Killian to the moon. It felt like things were finally, finally going their way. He had taken to Milah instantly, and spent the hour regaling her with the history of the ship. A merchant ship, originally, but thought to have been used for piracy at one point. He leaned heavily into the implications of the latter fact, as he felt—rightly so—that it added intrigue, and Milah had been enamored with the Jewel. He'd joked that day about renaming it the Jolly Roger, much to his brother's chagrin. She’d had other work to get to that day, so she hadn’t stayed long, but she’d given him her business card, which he still carried in his wallet. Liam had been killed shortly after, on one of his last missions with the Royal Navy before his scheduled retirement. Everything had changed, then. But Killian had always felt especially lucky that it had been Milah that day who had come to take their photo. For one short hour, she had been able to meet his brother, before Killian had lost him forever. The stars had aligned, and for one short span of time, the man who had meant the most to him and the woman who would come to mean everything to him had met, briefly. It wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things, but to Killian, it had to be enough. 

And then there were the glorious photos of the rest of the ships he had brought on through the years. He had always marveled at Milah’s skill behind a camera, her ability to find just the right angle, at just the precise time of day, to truly capture the essence of the ships he restored. Through her eyes, even the in-progress pictures never made them look like pieces of floating shit, which some of them very much were at the start of the process. She managed to make them look like hidden treasure, just waiting to be uncovered. Pieces of history waiting to be lovingly restored to their former glory. That’s what he’d felt like, with her. She’d been the one to see past his flaws after the death of his brother, to see something worth loving in him, something worth restoring. 

And now what was he, without her? 

The frequent looks of sympathy that came his way over the course of the memorial service were one of the worst parts of the day. Each and every concerned glance that flit in Killian's direction was threaded not only with heavy condolences, but something much worse: pity. And he knew he was a pitiable sight, indeed. He was dressed well enough, in a deep black suit Milah had bought for him after his business had another big break. But, his arm with the broken collarbone was still in a sling and had no hand at the end of it. Dark circles cradled his eyes, which seemed to be permanently bloodshot these days. He had given up almost entirely on sleep.

Sleeping felt impossible, an insurmountable task despite its simplicity; the bed was too big, too cold, and too empty when he was the only one in it. He tried—really tried. Each night, he made a valiant attempt to sleep in his own bed. He'd toss, turn, and generally do a lot of staring up at his ceiling. Eventually, he resorted to Netflix. But his “recently watched” list was full of her favorite shows, episodes half finished, series just begun. It was a terrible distraction. 

The first week after he arrived home from the hospital, his recliner chair in the living room had been the only place he could comfortably fall asleep with his arm in a sling. It was a lumpy, unsightly thing he had inherited from his brother (it was this reason and this reason alone his wife had allowed him to keep it.) Milah had called it his old man chair. These days, he’d often fall asleep in the chair, wake up with a start an hour later, and make his way to the couch, where he’d try to fall back asleep, but would mostly lie awake, staring into the dark, letting his mind off its leash and letting it wander to dangerous places. 

Often these thoughts centered on what he would do if he could track down the driver who had hit them head on, then fled the scene. What he would do when he found him or her varied. Sometimes, he pictured lighting him on fire. The next moment, he'd revel in the thought of running him through with a knife, watching him slowly bleed out on the floor. Or he’d take his hand from him, too. Such thoughts kept him company and carried him through until morning. 

Now, with the lack of sleep and the general dissociation he felt, he often didn’t feel cemented in reality. When he looked around the room, taking in the funeral parlor, it felt like this was happening to someone else, and he was merely observing. It didn’t help that he was surrounded by a sea of people who didn't know what to say to him. The moment never came that he was spared the awkward indignity of a conversation with someone who had little else to say other than I'm sorry. 

She was a lovely person. 

(Each time, he bristled at the use of the past tense.)

She'll be missed. 

Pity had overtaken the room, lingering like a dense fog. Everywhere he turned, his friends, her friends, co-workers, even a handful of people he had never seen before in his life, were all wearing the same expression on their faces. It transcended simple pity. It was next-level pity, flashing from their eyes and those slight down-turned corners of their mouths like a brightly-lit billboard in the night that read "YOUR LIFE DEPRESSES ME." 

He couldn't blame them. He pitied himself, too, when he wasn't numb, pulled down so deep into his own despair he could no longer think straight.

At least the food was decent—or so he had been overhearing. One quick glance over at Will Scarlet in the back of the room, face stuffed with h'orderves, told him the funeral parlor's appetizers couldn't have been terrible. If there had ever been a time he appreciated his friends more, he couldn't think of it. Of all the people who had shown up to the service, Locks and Scarlet were the only two who didn't make him want to scream. Or run. Or throw a punch. All of it, all at once. 

Will and Robin sat apart from the rest, in a pair of wingback armchairs in the corner of the room. Killian hadn't had a chance to speak to either of them, apart from initial hellos and quick hugs when they'd first arrived, and of course the ordeal with the flowers, but somehow, he knew without even asking they intended to stay for the entire affair, likely planning to take him out for a drink when this was all over.

What else do you do for your best friend after his wife's funeral?

All in all, it wasn’t a very hopeful affair, and too often bordered on bleak. Killian had no words in honor of Milah he wanted to share with a roomful of people who didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without breaking down. So, people ate, drank, and made a reserved and somber form of merry. They swapped stories back and forth, each offering up little pieces of the woman they had known.

Milah's parents had died years ago, and she had no siblings, so the room was occupied primarily by people she had thought of as friends. That was a nice thought, and in the coming weeks, Killian would be touched by the food, flowers, and cards that continued to arrive on his doorstep in memory of his wife. 

But here, in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to find hope in anything. 

+++++++

One Year Later 

Was a house truly haunted if you didn’t mind the ghost?

It felt like a haunting for months after Milah’s funeral, this limbo state he found himself in, where he couldn’t bring his heart or his brain to fully comprehend that she was gone. They traded shifts in misunderstanding, his heart and brain. There were days where, logically, he understood his wife was dead. And yet, his heart still leaped at the sound of a car door shutting outside, or an imagined creak in the floorboards that sounded like her coming around the corner in the hall. Other days, his heartache was so profound, he could barely muster the strength to get out of bed. All too often, he’d forget, and for a few blissful minutes, reach for his phone to call her and ask her a question. Those were beautiful moments, the forgetting. But the remembering that followed took his breath away. 

Then there were the things around the home he couldn’t bring himself to toss. Notes she’d left on the fridge, a grocery list on the table. Leftovers from her favorite meal at their favorite restaurant he couldn’t bring himself to throw away until they were fouling up the whole kitchen. Her phone was recovered from the accident and eventually made its way to him, via the detectives working the hit and run case. He went through her email drafts, texts, anything he could get his hands on that held pieces of Milah. He'd saved every voicemail she'd ever left him, had them memorized, and he'd play them when he missed her most, poking the bruise in his heart over and over until it numbed and didn't hurt so much. It all felt relatively harmless, like doing this to himself couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. 

Until he found himself practically sobbing the floor of the shower one morning over a soggy clump of her hair he’d pulled from the drain. 

He just couldn’t seem to pull himself together. 

How do you bring yourself to purposefully excavate traces of someone from your life, after they’re gone, until it was like they weren’t even there at all, the life you shared existing only in snapshots and memories? How exactly does one get to that place, force yourself to loosen your grip on all you have left of the person you love, the person you’d give anything to see one last time? Killian couldn’t fathom it. He couldn’t picture himself ever ridding himself completely of Milah’s memory. 

But he could stop leaving land mines for himself. 

He’d always run a tight ship at home, in terms of cleanliness. He had never had much, by way of possessions, and wasn’t sentimental about keeping things. Now he found himself debating whether or not he should keep a note in the bathroom his wife had scrawled out for herself to remind herself to order new contacts. These were the silly, useless things he stared at for minutes on end, debating what to do with. This little scrap of her pretty handwriting he recognized and loved. The thought of it winding up in a landfill somewhere made him ill. 

Eventually, he gathered these random scraps and pieces of her he’d found (except the clump of hair from the drain—that one did make it into the waste bin, thankfully) and gently shepherded them into a large Ziploc bag, which he kept in a box on her side of the closet. 

Robin and Will called often, texted even more often, and even dropped by now and again. They offered their help constantly, gladly would have helped with menial tasks like this (like throwing away scraps of paper Milah might have touched, God, he was a mess), but he turned them away each time. He just wanted to shut the world out, encase himself in a tomb of his own grief. 

He hadn’t even been able to see her, to say goodbye to her, because he hadn’t been bloody conscious for it. He had no memory of Robin telling him of her death; in the week following the accident, he left a slew of traumatized nurses in his wake as people had to tell him again and again for what felt like the first time that his wife was gone. 

Milah, bless her ever-loving soul, had signed herself up to be an organ donor. Of course she had. On some level, he knew this. It was marked on her driver’s license, and it was surely something they had talked about at one point. But now he resented it, resented the whole idea of it. He resented anything that didn’t allow him to see his wife one last time. One doctor had had the absolute audacity to tell Killian that he didn’t want to see his wife, anyway; the damage from the accident had been too great, the brunt of which had gone to her head, and that it was a miracle her heart was still beating enough to allow for any organ transplants. Killian, for his part, had an entirely different definition of the word “miracle”. 

So he waited to receive her ashes, held a funeral without her body. But he certainly didn’t wait patiently. 

He wonders sometimes what she would think of what he's become. No doubt there would be times she'd laugh at how ridiculous he was being, debating on keeping an old, wet clump of her hair like some kind of serial killer, and the subsequent guilt he felt at throwing it away, this gross little piece of her DNA. 

And yet, he reminds himself that there is, oddly, more of her DNA out there somewhere. Somewhere, out in the world, a select few of her vital organs are in new bodies, presumably thriving and keeping their hosts alive and well. Presumably, there are people out there who will be forever grateful for these pieces of his wife. Actual, living pieces of her. Killian has no idea how to feel about that, truly. There will come a day, when he is able to pull himself out of this darkness that perpetually feels more crushingly inescapable by the day, that he is able to see the true and abundant beauty in it. Milah, gone, but literal parts of her living on, providing life-giving support to someone else’s body and soul. That's the true miracle, really, and something he’d know she would be proud of. 

For now, in the depths of his despair, he feels annoyed, indifferent at best. Her benevolent medical and scientific donation was, for many long months, the thing standing between him and a proper burial for his wife, the thing that stood in the way of closure and him being able to say goodbye to her properly. This is the thing his mind latched onto, chooses as a target for his blame. 

Closure arrives on his doorstep one afternoon, boxed and bubble wrapped, in the form of an unassuming black urn. When he finally received her ashes, half a year after her death, he knew what he would do with them, knew immediately what she would want him to do with them. But he can’t yet bring himself to say goodbye, and the urn sat above their fireplace for months. This is the moment it hits him, truly, that she is gone. This is what it takes for it to finally sink in. He spends a long time building up the courage, brick by brick, to do what he needs to do. And as what would be her 37th birthday approaches on a warm July day, he finally gathered the strength to lay his wife to rest and honor her the way she deserved. 

What he doesn’t appreciate about the day, however, is the weather, which turns out to be an absolutely perfect New England summer day, which Killian very much resented. 

It was almost like it was mocking him. Jabbing a bright, sunshiny finger right into his face and laughing at his grief, which still, even almost a year after the death of his wife, was still a wound that had left him hollowed. When his brother had died, suddenly and with too much life left unlived, he'd felt like the ground itself had been pulled out from under him, and he'd been left in free fall. Now, with Milah gone, it felt as if his heart had been ripped right out of his chest and crushed in front of him. 

How did people live like this? 

If he were truly honest with himself, Killian wasn't certain what he was doing each day could actually be called living. He was alive, sure. Most days, the only thing that kept that from being true was the unknown lurking behind the veil of death. He had his own theories, his own hopes, for what awaited in a possible afterlife, but of course, no one really knows for sure until their time comes. He couldn't be sure what would happen to him, whether or not he'd see Milah, if he died tomorrow. Hell would be dying and not being reunited with her. And that was a hell whose existence he was not quite ready to test. 

The closest thing he had to his wife now was resting in his lap, ashes encased in ceramic. He had taken a small, private sailboat out to sea, sailed until there was no one else in sight, trying to find a good spot to release her ashes to the ocean she had loved so much. It had been close to two hours, now; he knew he was putting off the inevitable. If he didn’t do it now, he feared, with good reason, that he never would.

The best part about giving someone’s ashes to the sea was that there wouldn’t be one particular spot where her body would be laid to rest. The waves would take the dust of her and spread it for him, from shore to shore, just like they had taken his brother’s ashes. There would be no headstone, but the ocean itself would remind him of her, and he could visit her anytime he liked on a sea that had always brought him a sense of serenity. 

Killian Jones had never believed in soul mates until he’d met Milah.  And he still didn't quite believe in them, in the traditional sense. He didn't believe in a ready-made mate just waiting for him to find her. No, in his experience, life was far from ever that easy or that simple. But things had changed for him when he'd met his wife. Then, with her love, the broken pieces in him, irrevocably shattered the day his brother had died, shifted together into something that could almost be held together again. With her, he’d felt more whole than he could ever remember feeling in his life. 

She had been married at the time, when they’d met. Daydreaming of leaving her terrible husband, dreams which grew in intensity with each passing day. And while she hadn't exactly left him for Killian, she may has well have. Everything had changed for her that day, too. 

For while Milah had been his partner, they hadn't met each other and been perfectly content. But they had made each other stronger, in all the ways that counted. Now he believed wholeheartedly that soul mates existed. But they weren't found, ready made and prepackaged. They were made, forged through love and hard work working hand in hand. 

These were the things he thought, as the gentle salted breeze ruffled his hair and brought stinging tears to his eyes. As he looked down at the urn that held the last physical piece of the woman he’d loved, would always love, was lost and adrift without. 

“I love you, Milah,” he whispered to the wind. The tightness in his throat and jaw wouldn’t let him say more, but he knew he didn’t need to. She’d known how much and how fiercely he’d loved her, and he had to think that wherever she was, she still knew the hold she had on him. 

He held the urn against his chest with his prosthetic hand, working to unscrew the top. The breeze calmed at just the right moment, and as he leaned over the side of the ship to release Milah to the sea she'd loved, the dust of her settled gently down into the water. 

=========

gonna tag a few folks who I think might care this is up (again, sorry if I already tagged you!) @spartanguard @sunbeamsandmoonrays @caprelloidea @kmomof4 @queen-mabs-revenge @ahsagitarius @galadriel26 @t-tamm-

@lavendersoapsuds @its-imperator-furiosa @midnightswans @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky @withheartfulloflove @captainswan-middlemist @sarahreadsff @princesseslikepirates @winterbaby89 @pirateherokillian @wordslovedreams

@hannah-mic @thecraftyartist @blackwidownat2814 @once-uponacaptain @kylalovesbabeme @swiftmicheles @emmaswanstlk @captainswanslay

@the-tones-of-wallflowers @kday426 @krystalsficpage

[pirateswhore]

You're enough - comfort one-shot

It's never easy to have your disability be made into a joke - to be reminded every day that you're not good enough or deserving of love & for it to be your defining trait. Killian has learnt to live with it. That doesn't mean Emma can't remind him from time to time.

for @vasfasan HAPPY BIRTHDAY STINKY <33 ILY

Read on ao3 || Read below:

"Mum, could you help me with an art project tonight?"

"Sure, Hook's staying over so we'll help you."

"I think the pirate's going to be more a hindrance than help."

"The one-handed wonder is only good for pillaging and plundering. It honestly surprises me how he can do anything."

"Maybe it's time we replace the missing dwarf. I'm thinking - Stumpy?"

"Shut the fuck up already!"

The dinner falls silent, heads turning towards him. He stands, chair creaking against the floor. His eyes flash across the people sitting at the table with him. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he turns, making haste towards his bedroom in the inn. He can hear the hushed murmur of comments behind him, but his mind is too hazy to actually focus on what they're saying.

He pushes past a confused and worried Ruby and makes it to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he slumps against it. His chest is tight, his breath uneven and strained and his knees give out as he slides down to the floor. His head falls back, a low thud against the wood. His eyes glaze over as tears pool down his cheeks. He swallows, pushing the lump caught in his throat deeper down.

Hook. Pirate. One-handed wonder. Stumpy.

Through his sobs, he can hear a gentle knock on the door. He steadies his breath enough to grunt a "Go away," but it comes out a lot less demanding than he intended.

"Killian, it's me. Please let me in?"

He stands, wiping his face with his hand. He shakes his head, wipes the tears and opens the door. Emma's standing in front of him, hands trembling and anger on her face. She softens and smiles at him, but he doesn't return it.

"What, no comment on how I can unlock the door with one hand?" he grits out, trying his best to sound angry, but his voice cracks and he sounds more pathetic than anything.

"Killian..." she sighs, shaking her head. "Can I come in?"

He rolls his eyes but steps aside so she can enter the room. He closes the door behind her but doesn't turn to face her.

"I told Regina and my parents off for the comments. Henry's pretty disappointed with them too."

He doesn't reply, standing still with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I'm sorry for what they said, I promise not to-"

"You promise not to do what?" He snaps around, catching her off guard. "Not to comment? Not to insult? Not to stare and laugh? You're a few months late to that party, Swan."

She swallows and steps forward. "I'm sorry for not saying anything sooner. You're usually good at standing up for yourself, and you said nothing so I assumed it was all in good fun." Her hand reaches out, stroking his cheek and his facade breaks. A cry breaks from his chest and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch.

She leads him to the bed and sits them down, never taking her hands off of him. One hand holds his cheek as the other strokes through his hair.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He swallows, fingers playing with the zipper of her jacket.

"I didn't want to put a strain on your relationship with your parents. I knew you would get upset with them and I didn't want you arguing with them over me."

She pulls away, worry etched into her features. "Babe... if they're hurting you, you should've said something. I would have told them off earlier."

"I'm not worth the trouble, love."

"To me you are."

He scoffs and shakes his head. She holds him closer, pressing him into her chest.

"I hope you know I don't see you that way. The hook doesn't bother me," she whispers into his hair.

"You deserve better."

"And what could be better than you?"

He straightens, deliberately avoiding her gaze. She tilts his head up and meets his eyes with a soft, encouraging smile. He sighs.

"Someone you won't be ashamed of. Someone who's not broken and ruined. Someone you won't have to explain what you see in him, you won't have to justify your choice to people. Someone who will be able to hold you and touch you with both hands. Someone you wo-"

She cuts him off with her fingers to his lips, a gentle chorus of "shush" on her own.

"Killian, listen to me. I don't care about any of that. I'm not ashamed of you. You may not be perfect, but neither am I, and I refuse to believe either of us is ruined beyond repair. You've helped piece my heart together, and I hope I'm doing the same to you. I don't care about what people think of us, and I don't owe an explanation for my choices to anyone. If they can't see what I see in you, well. Their loss, really." She took his hook and hand in hers and placed it on her sides. "And you can hold me very well, thank you very much. If anyone, anyone, dares to object to that, to us, I have no problem setting them straight. I'll stand up to whoever has a problem with it."

"It's rotten work."

"Not to me. Not if it's us."

His mouth hangs open, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath. Her hands rest on his chest, anchoring him to her. He drops his head and smiles, a breathy "I don't deserve you" on his lips. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet, pouring all her unspoken feelings into it.

Their foreheads rest against one another and they hold each other close.

"You're enough. You'll always be enough. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

She takes his hook, carresing it gently, fingers wrapped around its curve. She presses it against her chest, the coolness of the metal causing her skin to prickle. She smiles at him. "This? This makes no difference to me. It doesn't change how I see you, nor does it make me think less of you."

She leans forward to whisper into his ear. "And while I'm being honest, it's unbelievably attractive."

He laughs. Finally, he laughs, happy and hearty and she can feel the rumble in his vest through her palm. He reaches up, running his fingers across her cheek. There's a tenderness in his eyes, and she's certain no one has ever looked at her like that, not before him. Tenderness, utter devotion, lo-

Her thoughts are derailed when he lunges forward, kissing her and pinning her to the bed. She reciprocates in a second, pulling him into her.

"Does Henry still need help with his school project?" he murmurs between kisses.

"Not for a few hours."

"Good."

[everything-person]

Just when they thought they could move on the past comes back to them. Starting with Marian the Graham appearing in the sheriffs station. Soon Storybrooke becomes a place of inbetween life and death. The Savior tried to juggle the towns epidemic with her own personal conflicts that come with it.