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hollyethecurious · 2 months ago

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CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Prologue

Chapter One

Two and Half Years Later…

“What have we got?”

Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.

“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”

“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.

“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”

“Mom?”

“Deceased.”

“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”

Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”

“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”

“Does she often walk by herself to school?”

The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”

“But not today?” Killian inquired.

“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.

“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.

“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”

The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.

“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”

“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn’t allowed to cut through the woods.”

“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.

The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.

Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.

Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.

Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.

When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.

Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.

“I’ve got something!”

Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.

“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”

“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”

Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.

“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”

Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”

Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.

“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”

“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.

Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let’s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”

“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about Aesop’s?”

Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”

Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”

“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”

~/~

“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”

Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.

“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”

Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.

“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”

“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.

When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.

She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.

She woged.

Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?

No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…

No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?

Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.

Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.

“Did you see that?”

Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”

“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”

“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.

He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?

“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.

“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”

Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”

For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…

“We got a boot print!”

Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.

It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!

“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”

Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”

It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.

“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.

“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”

“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”

“Go on.”

Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.

“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”

“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”

Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.

“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”

“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”

“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”

It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.

There had to be a way of finding this monster.

Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.

This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.

“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”

Typical.

Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.

“Will? What you got?”

“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”

“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”

“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”

“You think it was the postman?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.”

A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.

If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?

Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.

Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.

His prayer was answered.

“Hello?”

“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”

~/~

The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.

He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.

Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.

A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.

Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.

“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”

“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.

The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”

“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”

Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”

Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”

Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.

Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.

“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”

Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.

“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.

“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”

“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”

“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”

A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”

“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”

“As in… fully?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been intense for all of you.”

“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”

“Until?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.

“So… you made it through your first full moon.”

“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”

“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”

Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.

It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.

“That was…”

It was a big fucking mistake.

“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”

Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.

“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”

“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”

She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.

“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”

“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”

“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”

“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”

“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”

“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”

“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”

“The feelings are still there?”

Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”

“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”

Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.

“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”

“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Meaning?”

Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”

Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”

“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”

“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”

Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”

“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”

“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”

“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.

“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”

“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”

“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”

Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.

“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”

The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”

“Then… you’ll help me?”

Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”

Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.

“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”

Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”

Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.

Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”

“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”

“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.

“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”

Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”

Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.

“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.

Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”

“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”

Killian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”

Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”

“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”

“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”

“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”

“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”

With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.

“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.

“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”

“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.

The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”

“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”

Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.

You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--

Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.

“Killian? What is it?”

Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.

“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.

“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.

His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”

Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”

“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”

Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.

“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”

“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”

She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.

“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”

“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.

It would be a lie, though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”

“So?”

Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”

“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.

“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”

“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”

His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”

His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”

“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”

“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”

He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.

“As you wish.”

Chapter Two - Coming Soon!

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.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper

@jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @superchocovian @caught-in-the-filter

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @gingerchangeling

@exhaustedpirate @cocohook38 @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

@jackieorioncat @paradiselady19 @snowbellewells @earanemith @ultraluckycatnd

@pirateherokillian @calmjoonie @unworried-corsair @tiganasummertree @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @kday426 @djlbg @fairytalepretzkle @maggiegreenvt

@natascha-ronin @ilovemesomekillianjones @iamstartraveller776 @deckerstarblanche @shadowsaur

@qualitycoffeethings @idristardis @phoenix-untamed @bluewildcatfanatic @bananachickens

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #csfic #cs au #captain swan #Grimm!Killian #Wolf!Killian #Witch!Emma #cssns24 #words by hollye

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swanslieutenant · 3 months ago

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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

#cs ff #cs mc ff #captain swan #cs fic #a place in time #sorry its been forever #my life sort of fell apart about 2 months after posting the last chapter and only now am I feeling like myself again #I know most of the CS fandom has moved on but I am determined to finish this

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everything-person · 4 months ago

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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.

#captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs fic #cs art #cs aesthetic #cs fanart #cs fan art #emma swan #killian jones #henry mills #ouat #once upon a time #cssns24 #captain swan supernatural summer

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year ago

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kazzy's fanfic moodboards- emma's first perfect christmas

[gifted to @booksteaandtoomuchtv, csge 2023] When Mary Margaret decides the family needs to start celebrating Christmas, Emma's not sure how she's gonna make it through the holidays- until Killian makes it his goal to give her the most perfect Christmas possible.

#once upon a time #ouat #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fic #kazzy's moodboards #kazzy's fanfic moodboards #otp: try something new darling

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4getfulimaginator2022 · 11 days ago

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I can't believe this is happening... But this fic has, after 10 long years, come to an end. ❤️

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fic #cs au #once upon a time #heart bound #fic update

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overlordofthelollipopguild · 1 month ago

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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.

#cs au #cs fanfic #cs fanfics #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #ouat #ouat fanfiction

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grimmswan · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#once upon a time #emma swan #killian jones #ouat #captain swan #cssns24 #cssns23 #grimmswanfic #csff #cs ff #cs fic #csfic

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stubblesandwich · 1 year ago

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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

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs au #captain swan fanfiction #return to me

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 months ago

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fanbinding: the path that moonbeams make

okay, it's official: my new favorite book size is legal quarto. it's perfect in the hand, it's a really pleasing ratio and shape.

the binding sewn boards with bookcloth spine and homemade bookcloth cover. backed the cover with rice paper for the first time--never going back. printed on the church paper bookbinder special in warm white.

titles printed on siser HTV black glitter using a silhouette portrait.

the story the path that moonbeams make by KnifeEdge

an oldie but, imho, a classic. OUAT season 2b AU. i don't think any other writer has explored this scenario but it's one of those that makes me wish we could go back and do it all again.

#cs fic #fanbinding #door of time books #renegade bindery #cs fic rec

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shady-swan-jones · 7 months ago

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Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition

Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you

-Sophie

when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard

Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault

everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?

rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain. “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her.

Read on Ao3 or ff.net

I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage

Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones. rated E | 6267 words

love scare by @exhaustedpirate

it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B rated G | 922 words | ao3

Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?

The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj

There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this. Words: 6181 ~ AO3

Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites

Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew. ao3 in progress 19/23

a work of art by @sotangledupinit

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.

Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese

Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line. AO3 T

The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors

"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."

ff.net

The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely

Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.

E 16k words in progress AO3

Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious

After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776

She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair. Ao3, in progress, T, 4k

Note:

Don't forget to comment and show some love. To me too. Come on. Anyone else who wants to be tagged can request it.

If you have more fic recs or more links, drop them in the comments and I'll include them. You creative mermaids, love ya.

@kmomof4 @caught-in-the-filter @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl @facesiousbutton82 @finmnsoh56 @followbatb @killianxswan @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd

#cs ff #captain swan #ouat #killian jones #emma swan #ouat ff #cs modern au #cs au #cs fic #my lists

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hollyethecurious · 3 months ago

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CS AU: Pan Says... (13/13)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: We've made it! The final chapter is here. Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope is does not disappoint!

Much love to my @kmomof4 and @ultraluckycatnd for being amazing cheerleaders and betas! A shout out to all of you who sent me prompts. This fic would not exist without y'all!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

“There has to be a way out of here,” Killian grumbled as they hit yet another dead end.

Never had he been more eager to get his Swan to safety. Sure, the man who’d been tasked to eliminate her may well be dead, but that didn’t mean she was out of danger. Cassidy was still lurking somewhere within the maze and Killian didn’t want to take any chances of him getting his hands on Emma.

“Killian?” Emma whispered softly next to him, both of them trying to draw as little attention to themselves and their position as possible. “What do we do if Neal finds us before we make it out of here? Assuming there is a way out.”

“There has to be,” Killian replied, bypassing her initial question and leading them down a new corridor. Or had they already been down this way? “Pan can’t trap us in here forever.”

“Sure he can.”

Killian and Emma spun around, stunned to find Neal Cassidy making his way around the corner they’d just turned. Where had he come from? That way had been a dead end. Hadn’t it?

A baseball bat was firmly gripped in one hand as he menacingly tapped the cap of it in the other. No need to guess the weapon he was meant to use in order to complete the grizzly task Pan had assigned him.

“Looks like Emma already took care of your dear old dad,” Neal commented, his eyes taking in the blood soaked into Killian’s sweatpants and smeared across his bare torso and chest. Shifting his attention to Emma he added, “I knew Pan would give you Brennan, leaving Killian and I to duke it out to the death.”

Killian let the man keep his wrong assumptions and tightened his grip on Emma’s hand, hoping she would do the same. Having his focus on Killian as both his target and would-be assassin allowed them the upper hand, even if they were both loath for Emma to be in a position to have to take the man’s life. Neither of them wanted it to come to that, but Neal seemed not the least bit concerned with the idea of cold-blooded murder.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Neal murmured darkly, continuing his advance as Killian and Emma both crept backward down the corridor, unwilling to take their eyes off the danger in front of them. “Do you know how often I’ve dreamt of killing you? How many times I begged Pan to let me be the one to punish you?”

Arriving at a T junction, Killian signaled for Emma to go to her right, hanging behind for a moment to ensure Neal did not lunge at them unexpectedly. She’d only just rounded the corner when a panel slid out from the wall, cutting him off from her completely. Forgetting about Neal, Killian spun around and yelled Emma’s name, desperately feeling his way along the panel for a way to remove it.

“Swan!” he hollered, but was unable to determine whether or not she could hear him. Her name had only just left his lips when a whooshing sound gave him a mere moments warning of Neal’s attack. Ducking out of the way, Killian nearly had his head taken clean off by the swing of Neal’s bat, which instead collided with the solid panel separating them from Emma.

“Quick bastard, aren’t you?” Neal muttered, taking aim once more.

His next swing was stalled when Killian demanded to know, “Where’s Emma? How did you manage to separate us?”

“Don’t look at me, pal,” Neal scoffed. “Haven't you noticed the walls moving before now? Hallways seal themselves all the time, creating new dead ends. It’s all part of Pan’s genius.”

“Awfully enamored with Pan, aren’t you?” Killian stated derisively.

“Pan is my family,” Neal shot back. “He’s always looked out for me.” Cocking his head to one side, a sneer crept over his lip as he taunted, “Unlike your own father who left you and your brother to rot in foster care. Left you to the mercy of someone like John Silver.”

Killian tamped down the anxiety and panic the mention of his abusive foster father’s name brought up. He could not afford to let Neal rile him up or make him lose focus. In fact, perhaps it was time to turn the tables.

“Always looked out for you?” Killian countered. “Was he looking out for you when he brought Emma here? When he let me have her instead of you?” Neal’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the grip of the bat tighter in his hands, his teeth grinding together in anger and rage Killian hoped he could work to his advantage. “Tell me, Neal,” Killian continued to taunt, “How was Pan looking out for you when he let me pleasure Emma? Let me caress her body and taste her cunt before fucking her to heights of ecstacy you were incapable of giving her?”

A guttural roar of rage preceded the wild swing of Neal’s bat, but Killian managed to side-step it before it made contact.

“Or was he looking out for you when he forced Emma to her knees to suck me off?” Killian said, throwing another barb at the man who was growing more and more unhinged by the second. “Or when she washed me, or kissed me, or fondled me, or rode me like a bloody goddess?”

Another savage swing broke the air, but when this one also missed its target, Neal, in a rage, rushed at Killian, nearly knocking the breath out of him as they both landed on the ground.

“You think any of that meant something? You think it means she’s yours?” Neal bellowed, striking Killian in the jaw with his fist when he attempted to get up, landing him flat on his back once more. “She’ll never be yours!” Neal roared. “She’s mine!”

Crushing the bat against Kiliian’s windpipe, Neal continued to rail at him. Perhaps he’d done too good of a job riling the man up in the hopes he’d make a mistake. It was clear, however, that Killian had been the one who’d made the fatal error. Frantically, he clawed at Neal’s hands as the man continued to spit vitriol at him, not that he heard a word of it, the sound of his blood thundering in his ears as a ringing began to swell from the lack of oxygen effectively drowned the murderous man out.

No! He couldn’t let the man win. He couldn’t leave his Emma at the mercy of Pan and Neal. He couldn’t… he had to… he must…

Killian’s vision began to tunnel, the black edges of oblivion quickly creeping in as the pressure in his face and head continued to build and his lungs screamed from want of air. With the last of his strength he tried anything and everything he could to dislodge the man from his chest and bat from his throat, but it was no use. Neal would not be moved.

The last vestiges of consciousness began to leave him, his final coherent thoughts of his Swan and the grief he felt as he mourned the life they could have had together. He wished he could see her one last time. Hold her. Kiss her. Tell her he--

Killian jolted from the blast of gunshots that rang out and his lungs suddenly opened, allowing him to draw in a much needed breath. His eyes, which he hadn’t even realized had shut, flew open in time to see Neal Cassidy being propelled backward by the force of the bullets hitting his chest, blood splatter from his wounds erupting in the air and hitting Killian in the face as he continued to choke and gasp for breath.

“Killian!” Emma screamed, her footfalls rushing towards him as he rolled over onto all fours in an attempt to get up. She practically knocked him on his back again, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Careful, love,” he choked out, settling back onto his heels as he knelt before her, threading his fingers through her hair and holding her as close to him as he possibly could. Once he was able to breathe again without a choking fit, he pulled back and looked over at Neal’s prone body.

“Is he… dead?”

“I unloaded the clip on him,” Emma told him, her tone giving away none of what she might be feeling over the matter. “So, yeah. He’s dead.”

“Good.”

She released a heavy breath in response, tears pooling in her eyes as relief seemed to engulf her. Cupping her cheek, Killian nuzzled his nose against hers and affirmed, “You did what you had to do, Swan. You saved me.”

“I tried to hurry,” she told him in a slightly hysterical tone. “I knew there had to be a way back around to you. I’m sorry it took me so long to find it.”

“Shhh, love,” Killian soothed, pulling her back into his arms and cradling her head against his chest. “It’s all right now.”

Emma’s eyes fell shut and a tear slipped past her lashes. Before Killian could wipe it away they were both startled by the sound of more panels closing in around them. Getting to their feet they frantically looked about for a means of escape, but there was none. All access points had been closed off to them.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Killian hollered, grabbing on to Emma’s hand for fear they might get separated again. “It’s over! We completed your tasks and survived! We won! Why have you trapped us in here?”

“Yes, yes,” Pan said in an unenthusiatic tone with a half-hearted slow clap accompanying his words. “You’ve won. Congratulations.”

“That's right!” Emma chimed in. “We won, so let us out! You said we’d earn our freedom if--”

“And I am a man of my word,” Pan replied, though there was clear reluctance in his tone. “Even if letting you go will end up costing me dearly. Think of the revenue I’ll lose from my guests when they discover their favorite playthings are no longer available to them?”

“Forgive me if I don’t lose any sleep over it,” Killian grit out through clenched teeth. “Something tells me you’ll manage just fine without us.”

“I suppose,” Pan sighed. “Part of the fun was watching your father and Neal suffer and stew while I played with you. Now that they’re gone…” Another heavy exhale filled the corridor as a panel slid open. “Well, I suppose a deal’s a deal. Pan says, follow the corridor.”

“Wait!” Emma called out, clearly unconvinced that he meant to make good. “This is really it, right? You’re letting us go? We’re free? Forever?”

“Of course,” Pan replied. “Unless you would wish to stay and remain a part of my--”

“Fuck that,” Killian said, pulling Emma along the corridor with haste, ready to be done with this god forsaken place once and for all.

The path led them back to one of the rooms they’d started in and a cold stone of dread dropped in Killian’s stomach when the door shut behind them.

“I knew it!” Emma exclaimed. “I knew it was a trick! I knew he never meant to--”

Her words were cut off by the hissing sound of the fog filling the room. Terror filled green eyes caught his own as they stared at one another in fear.

“K-Killian?” Emma stammered. “Do you… do you think he means to--”

“Relax,” Pan’s voice exasperated from the speaker. “It’s only going to knock you both out. I can’t have you remembering any details that might lead the authorities back here, now can I?”

A shuddering exhale of relief left Killian’s lungs, but it was replaced with a fresh breath of panic. Where did he mean to take them? Would they remain together or would he dump them back where he’d had them grabbed that fateful night?

“Swan,” Killian said desperately. The air around them was already filling with the noxious choking gas and he knew they didn’t have much time. “I’ll find you,” he promised. “If when we wake we aren’t… I swear I’ll find you.”

“I know you will,” she said, clinging to him as she nodded furiously. “Or I’ll find you. We’ll find each other.”

“Aye.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he lowered them to their knees, not wishing for either of them to become injured when they eventually lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

“Killian, I…” Emma gazed up at him, a sentiment he’d longed to hear swirling in her jade depths as the words began to form on her lips. “ I lo--”

“Don’t,” Killian said, cutting her off. “Not here. Not like this.” Taking her face in both hands he pleaded with her, “Tell me when we’re free. Tell me after… after you’ve found me or I’ve found you. Please, love.”

“As you wish,” she slurred out, her body becoming too heavy for his weakened arms to hold. Together, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies entwined with one another as darkness pulled them under.

~/~

A horn blared from the street outside the window jarring Emma awake. Bolting upright, she was stunned to find herself in her apartment, the air thick with two months worth of dust collecting on the surfaces. Glancing down to assess her physical state, she was again taken aback. Someone had dressed her in the very clothes she’d been wearing when she’d disappeared. The same tight jeans, the same gray tank top, the same red leather jacket, the same tall boots, even the same ponytail, she realized, reaching back to run a hand over her hair.

Out of instinct she called out for Killian, hoping against hope he might be somewhere in her apartment as well. After a very short, quick search - her place was tiny with only an open concept living and kitchen area, a bathroom, and a bedroom - she was devastated to discover she was alone.

Patting at her pockets, she found her phone tucked away in one of the interior ones of her jacket. A curse fell from her lips when she tried to unlock it. The thing was completely dead. Rushing to her bedroom, she started tearing it apart in search of her phone charger, all the while trying to decide who she should attempt to contact first.

Obviously, she needed to find Killian, but there was also David and Mary Margaret to consider. They’d been through hell and she didn’t want them to suffer a moment longer than they had to. Not to mention, the police had to be notified, she was probably gonna need a good lawyer, she was desperate to find out if Henry had indeed been returned to his mother, it would probably be a good idea to have a doctor check her out, but out of all of the concerns and worries spiraling through her brain, the thing that continued to drive her as she searched for her damn phone charger was Killian.

She had to find Killian.

Someone started pounding on her front door, causing Emma to freeze. As the assault against her door continued, Emma realized there was one thing that had not been returned to her from the night Pan had her taken.

Her gun.

Looking about for something she could use as a weapon, Emma froze again when a voice began to accompany the banging.

“Killian?” Sprinting to the door, she didn’t even check the peephole before throwing it open.

Hand still raised, ready to set another round of knocks on the surface of her door, Killian stared back at her with equal disbelief and elation.

“Swan,” he breathed, barely able to complete the exhale before Emma launched herself into his arms.

He struggled to keep hold of her and make his way into her apartment as she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered his face with kisses.

“How… How are you here… How did you… find me so fast.”

“It was Pan,” he muffled against her lips, causing her to flinch back.

“What?”

Setting her back on her feet, he reached into the pocket of the jeans he wore - tight fitted jeans paired with an equally tight black shirt, charcoal colored waist coat, and a black leather bomber style jacket - and produced a familiar looking folded piece of paper.

Closing the door as she took the message from him with trembling fingers, Killian recited the words as Emma read them.

“Pan says… find her.”

Included on the paper was her full address.

“Well,” she said, wetting her lips and handing the note back to him. “Good thing you did, because tomorrow I’m moving to an unregistered address.”

Killian chuckled and they were back in each other’s arms, lips sliding and tongues tangling as their hands clung to the fabric of the other’s clothes.

“You’re alright? Truly?” he murmured in the space between them when they broke apart for air.

“Yes,” she assured him. “But I’m not sure how long I was out. I only woke up a few minutes before you arrived.” Pulling back further, she gazed up at him and asked, “How did you get here so fast?”

With a stunned expression, as though he himself hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of what he was about to relay to her, he said, “I live just on the other side of town.”

Emma was struck by the fact they never once talked about where they lived. All of his stories had been of his life back in the UK, having only mentioned once in passing that he’d moved to the US for a fresh start after his court martial.

“After I woke up and saw the note, I raced over here. Breaking several traffic laws in the process, I’m sure.” Taking her face back into his hands, he caressed the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. “I had to see. I had to see for myself that you were alright.”

Reaching up, she placed her hands over his and closed her eyes, letting his touch and the comfort of his presence wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, she led them to her sofa, asking, “What about Liam? Or the police? Have you--”

“I called Liam on my way here,” he told her. “He’s booking the first flight out.”

“I guess I half expected him to already be in the States, working with the police or at least connecting with David and Mary--”

“Aye, he did all that,” Killian added, cutting her off so he could relay what Liam had told him over the phone. “After our phone calls to them, Liam and David and Mary Margaret were in contact with one another immediately and he came here to help them convince the police to take up the case again. Unfortunately, his leave ran out and he had to go back, but he said he would reach out to David and Mary Margaret, as well as the detective that’s working our case, to let them know of my return.” With knitted brows he looked around and said, “I’m surprised they aren't blowing up your phone or already at your door.”

“My phone is dead.” She nodded at the coffee table where the useless device was still laying, then glanced around once more as she said, “I was looking for the charger when you…” Emma returned her gaze to his, not wanting to take her eyes off him for fear he might simply disappear. Shaking off the absurdity of that feeling - while trying to convince herself it was absurd - Emma cleared her throat and informed him, “David and Mary Margaret live more than an hour away, so… we have a bit of time before they come barging in.”

“Aye,” Killian acknowledged. “And Liam asked that I wait to go to the station until after he arrives. He uh… he wants to be here. To support me through…”

“Of course he does,” Emma said, running her hand up and down his arm in a supportive and comforting manner. “He’s your brother and he loves you.”

Killian stood and started to pace, his hands sweeping through his hair over and over again. “I’m not sure what I’m going to tell him,” he confided. “About what we’ve been through. About what we… what I had to do in order to gain my…” Stopping dead in his tracks he looked over at Emma with mournful eyes and asked, “How am I going to tell him about Brennan? How do I confess to him that I killed our father?”

Emma sprang up for the couch and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. “You didn’t kill him, Killian. You weren’t the one responsible for his death. And regardless, you won’t have to face it alone. You won’t have to do any of this alone.” Craning her neck, she captured his gaze and reminded him, “We will get through this the way we’ve gotten through everything else. Together.”

“Aye, love,” he expelled on a relieved breath, crushing her to him. “Together.”

After a few more minutes of simply holding one another, Killian loosened his grip and chagrined, “I’m sorry, Swan. I know I’m not the only one facing a daunting amount of trauma to work through.” Taking her hands in his, he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily before he spoke. “I know now that my father sacrificed everything to protect Liam and me. That he gave up his life to ensure I had a future.” Gently, he placed her hands against his chest and cradled them there, flicking his gaze up to meet hers, the intensity swirling in those forget-me-not depths nearly drowning her. “And I damn well intend to have one,” he murmured fiercely, their lips now only a hairsbreadth apart. “I know you must have your own trepidations about entering back into the world, but I want you to know that I will be by your side. For all of it. Always.”

“I know,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his and losing herself in the fervor of his kiss and the promise it left simmering between them.

After taking a much needed breath, Emma burrowed her face into his chest, refusing to let go as she tightened her arms around him. “For now though?” she implored. “For the little bit of time we have before David gets here and goes all Nolan, or before the police descend with their questions and interrogations, or before your brother arrives and I have to worry about earning his approval…” Killian chuckled at that, giving her a comforting and commiserating squeeze. “Can we just… do this? Can we just… be? Can we just leave the world outside for a little bit longer? I just want you to hold me. Can you just hold me and let me forget about everything else for a while?”

“Aye, love,” he murmured into her hair. “I can do that.”

The tightening of Killian’s arms around her alerted Emma that there was something she needed to do first.

“Um… actually,” she said apologetically, wiggling out of his embrace and shooting him a slightly embarrassed look. “Real quick, I need to um… use the restroom. Sorry.”

Killian chuckled again and fully let her go. “Go,” he said in an amused breath. “Take care of necessities while I make myself useful and get us some tea.” Waggling his brows at her he added, “Then we can cuddle up with a cuppa until the masses arrive.”

Emma smiled and threw out instructions of where to find things as she made her way to the bathroom. When she reached the door, she paused and turned back.

“Oh, and Killian?”

“Aye?”

Drawing in a cleansing breath, she declared, “I love you.”

He whirled around from the cabinets and beamed at her, elated. “And I you, Emma,” he murmured back, clearly torn between taking her in his arms again and letting her continue on with what she needed to do. “And I you.”

“Hold that thought,” she told him with a coy smile, her hand pressed against the bathroom door while her attention remained focused on him for a second longer. Watching him smile that adorable boyish grin as he went back to puttering around her kitchen, Emma placed her other hand over her chest. Her heart was full and feeling as though it might burst from relief and joy and hope and a certainty that settled deep within her.

They were going to be okay. There was a lot for them to face and get through and overcome, but… he loved her and she loved him. They were going to be okay.

Swinging the door open, she stepped into the bathroom, then stopped short with a gasp falling from her lips that took her elated smile with it.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Killian’s rushed footfalls were accompanied by his frantic tone as he demanded, “What is it? Swan, are you--”

She flicked her gaze up to the mirror, her face white and her eyes wide as saucers. When he joined her his attention was on her reflection, but then followed her gaze as it returned to the counter, and the note laying there.

A note she somehow had not seen earlier when she’d quickly checked the bathroom for Killian.

A note that was sitting atop a very distinctive object.

“Is that…”

A pregnancy test.

Emma nodded and they both leaned down to take a closer look. Hands shaking, Emma picked up the stick and a shuddering breath left her lungs as Killian read the scrawling words that had been penned on the paper.

Pan says, congratulations are in order.

The End

(cue evil laugh)