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hollyethecurious · 1 month

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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)

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#csff #csfic #cs au #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #pan says...#complete fic #words by hollye

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ophii · 7 months

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aurora hyperfixation is slowly returning.... cs au doodles come forth...

#ignore erins neck in the first pic of him. i noticed it half way through and decided “fuck it” and didnt fix it #also sorry kendal n dainix for some reason i couldnt draw u two..#kendal wasnt kendaling and dainix wasnt dainixing #aurora #comic aurora #aurora comic #aurora fanart #alinua #alinua aurora #erin ruunaser #erin aurora #tess ruunaser #tess aurora #falst aurora #aurora coffeeshop/college au #cs au #ophii #ophii draws things

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eastwesthomeisbest · 25 days

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Emma Dressed in Blood

A ghost story inspired by the "Anna Dressed in Blood" book series by Kendare Blake.

For @cssns 2024 event

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

#cssns24 #cssns #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs au #cs ghost au #captain killian jones #emma swan jones #captain swan supernatural summer

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donteattheappleshook · 2 months

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Not Broken At All Chapter 17/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Thank you thank you thank you @the-darkdragonfly for helping me so much with this chapter I literally wrote at your kitchen table lol.

This one is a bit shorter because I had to move the last scene to the next chapter or it would have been like 10k long…. but hopefully that means chapter 18 is coming soon!

(at least you didn't have to wait a year for chapter 17?)

*******

Part 17

Emma follows Killian’s eyes as they dart towards the ceiling, the deck above their heads. It’s dark out, but not the dark of night, the dark of an oncoming storm, that ominous, looming chill of electricity in the air, the waves lapping against the sides of the ship that rocks unsteadily against the threatening sea. A shiver runs down her spine. Whether Pan’s here or not - he’s fucking furious.

There’s a knock on the door, Wendy not waiting for permission before pushing it open. “Is he here?” Killian asks, voice low.

She shakes her head, holding a small, empty vial. “Not yet. But Ianeira sent a warning - he’s on his way and he’s not happy.” She looks out at the first heavy drops that land against the window like bullets. “Obviously.”

“Get the boys below deck,” he orders, still not raising his voice above the rumble of the storm outside. “Scarlet,” he adds, the younger pirate leaning against the doorframe, “go wake the crew. Tell them to be ready for a fight.”

“What are you going to do?” Wendy frowns like she already knows the answer.

“Handle Pan.”

“Absolutely not.” Emma answers at the same time as Wendy’s “like hell” rings through the air. “This was my idea. I’ll go deal with the consequences,” she insists, but her words are ignored as the two captains continue to argue. Will shoots her a sympathetic shrug from his place in the doorway.

“We don’t have time to argue,” Killian finally snaps at his second, standing and grabbing Emma’s pants from where she hung them last night before tossing them to her. “Pan and his Lost Boys will be here any minute and we need to make sure the boys are hidden and the crew is ready to defend the Jolly.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Wendy asks, arms crossing over her chest and Killian stiffens. Emma didn’t miss the weight put behind the question.

“Cap-” he starts but she cuts him off.

“No. No more of this ‘I’m not the captain’ or two captains bullshit. If you’re going to pull rank and make me follow orders then you don’t get to decide you don’t want to be in charge anymore tomorrow. If this crew is going to put our lives on the line for your plan, and trust you to handle Pan, then you’re going to be the one to make the order. And if you die today -” Her harsh facade breaks just a fraction - “It won’t be because of something I could have stopped.”

The room is silent as the two stare each other down, the rush and howls of the storm growing louder outside, growing closer as they remain locked in the standoff, Wendy’s ultimatum hanging between them. “Well?” she demands.

He’s silent for another moment, but then he lets out a sigh. “Bring the boys below deck, make sure they don’t make a sound or Pan will remember that they’re here.” Another hesitation as neither she or Will move and his thumb runs over the ring on his finger. “That’s an order.”

Wendy’s shoulders both straighten and sag at once as she shifts into her new role, her face blank, betraying nothing, but Emma knows. She can see the hurt and the fear, of his betrayal and of the danger he’s putting himself in as she nods. “Aye, Captain.”

Killian flinches away from the title just the barest amount before she heads out of the room.

“What are you gonna tell him?” Will glares at his usurping captain.

Killian sighs. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.” He reaches for his shirt, pulling it on over his head and turning to find the man still there. “Go wake the crew,” he orders again and Will stares at him for a long moment before doing as he’s told.

Emma watches him as he dresses, yanking her own pants on and rising from the bed, the buttons of his vest fastened methodically, one by one with practiced fingers before he dons his greatcoat. She realizes what she’s watching as he slides his sword into its sheath, secures it to his hip: a soldier dressing for battle, each piece of his armour clad carefully down to the expression he smooths over his face, the one that hides the man who’d let her in his bed and held her against the threat of the night behind a cold, heartless facade.

“Killian,” she starts, ready to fight him on this. Rescuing the boys was her decision. She’d made them do it. This should be her responsibility. Nobody else's lives should be on the line for her choices. A boom of thunder cuts her off before a flash of lightning brightens the room.

“He’s here,” Wendy tells them, stepping back into the room. Killian doesn’t confirm if his orders have been followed - he doesn’t need to.

“Let me go,” Emma insists. “I can tell him it was my idea. I can -”

“No.” They answer in unison and before she can protest a boom of thunder echoes above them and an angry, lilting voice calls out above them.

“Thieves! Show yourselves!” The demand is followed by a roar of approval, small, young voices calling out in a battle cry she’s heard before. The room goes silent, tension in every line of her body and Killian’s. Wendy looks to her captain, waiting for orders, hands fisted like she’s trying not to barge up there herself.

Emma sees the barest flash of fear in his gaze before he schools it and turns to her, leveling her with a hard, commanding look.

“Go to the hold with the children. Promise me you’ll stay down there - that you won’t make a sound.” Emma glares at him, his face only inches away as he speaks so quietly she can barely hear him. He glares back just as defiantly. “Promise me, Swan.” She doesn’t answer. She’s not promising that. Not when it’s her fault Pan’s here and he could hurt them. “They need you. They trust you and they need to stay hidden. If Pan’s reminded they’re here… he might demand their lives in place of the dead we took.”

Her glare deepens. “I know what you’re doing.”

The corner of his mouth turns up just a fraction before he straightens it. “Then you should have no problem following through with it.” When her shoulders straighten his hand comes to her cheek. “We can’t risk Pan finding out about you - not while we don’t have a way of defeating him or saving Henry. You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead,” he adds, using her words against her now and her eyes narrow. “You can’t protect Henry if you’re dead.” That one hits hard and Emma knows he’s right - but she still doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want him dead either.

Pan’s warning rings out again, harsher this time - ‘Come out and face me, coward!’ - and Killian’s shoulders tense. “Fine,” she concedes. “But if things go bad -”

“You’ll stay right here.” It’s a warning, and she almost wants to call him on it, to see what he really thinks he can do to her that’s worse than the situation they’re already in, but she bites her tongue. He takes her silence as the end of the discussion. “Darling,” he calls over his shoulder. “Bring her to the hold and then join me on deck - Darling,” he tries again when she doesn’t respond, but Wendy’s attention is focused outside the cabin, staring out down the hall, a frown starting to pull at her brow and Killian’s matches it. “Wendy?”

“Where’s Will?”

“What?”

“Will.” Her voice is low, far away but rising with tightly restrained panic. “He should be back by now. Where’s the crew?”

As if on cue, a voice rings out loudly above them. “Pan! Two visits in as many days? To what do we owe the honour?” They rush to the stairs, crouched low looking out at where Will stands, alone, facing off against Pan. Fuck. Please don’t be an idiot. She can feel Wendy tense beside her and Killian reaches, grabbing his first mate’s arm.

“Don’t,” he warns and Emma’s surprised to see her try to yank her arm free. But he holds firm.

“Scarlet.” Pan sounds annoyed but intrigued nevertheless. “It’s been a long time.” He cocks his head, a small smirk on his childlike face. “You got old.”

“Go get the crew,” Killian orders, staring her down and not releasing her until the fight fades slightly from her eyes. He knows how much this must be killing her. “If there’s going to be a fight, we won’t be able to stop him alone. Bring them with you and meet me on deck.”

Will baulks. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’ve the complexion of a man less than half my age.” He brushes a hand over his scruffless cheek as if to prove it.

There’s still resistance in Wendy’s stance but she nods, dashing off towards the crew’s quarters. Killian turns to her. “Stay here. Don’t let the children leave the hull.” She can only nod, still watching as her new friend continues to bait Pan. “Bloody idiot,” Killian mutters under his breath.

Emma grabs his arm, halting him. She waits until his questioning gaze turns to her. “Be careful. Please.”

He watches her for a moment, eyes darting up to the deck, and then takes her hand, presses a kiss to the back of it and nods the voices above growing louder. He spares her one last glance before dashing up the stairs.

“Hook,” Pan says as soon as he reaches the bow of the ship. “There you are. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Apologies,” Killian offers with a small bow and a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Where are my shadows?”

“Your shadows? We don’t have any shadows here.”

“Don’t lie,” Pan snaps and Emma flinches. “You stole eleven lost boys from me. Those were my lives - I won them fair and square. Give them back.” Emma half expects him to stomp his foot, but it’s then that she realizes that he can’t - because he’s not on the deck. He’s flying, or hovering a few feet above it. Wendy had said that Neverland’s magic couldn’t touch the Jolly - does that mean Pan can’t either? Can he not set foot onboard?

“They’re at the bottom of the sea, I’m afraid,” Killian tells him with a wince and she can see the rage building in the small boy.

“Then I’ll take them from your crew. Eleven of them in exchange for the ones that you took.” Emma casts a glance back down the hall towards the hold where a dozen children hide.

“No need for that,” Killian begins. “They aren’t to blame for this little misunderstanding. I’m sure we can find a solution where you get what you want that’s fair.” Pan hesitates at the word fair. He loves his games - he loves his rules.

“Then who is to blame?” he demands. “Bring the thief forward so that he can be punished.”

“Unfortunately we-”

“I did it.”

“Scarlet,” Wendy hisses in warning, but he’s already taking another step towards Pan.

“It was my idea.”

Pan glares. “Why?”

There’s a pause and then Will smirks. “I just wanted to piss you off. For old time’s sake.”

The boy’s anger shifts into something cruel and amused. “Well then, you can pay the price for old times sake. You remember how much fun my punishments can be,” he adds. She sees Will’s back go stiff right before Pan’s hand plunges deep into his chest and Emma has to cover her mouth with her hands to catch the scream that tries to escape. The crew stills, petrified. This isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen.

“Wait!” Wendy shouts as Will lets out a groan of pain. Killian grabs her arm, silencing her and holding her in place. Pan ignores her, pulling his hand free, something bright and red and glowing held in his palm. That can’t be what she thinks it is.

“Eleven lives,” he muses again, floating easily across the deck, thinking. He gives the thing a small squeeze and Will cries out falling to his knees. Pan smirks, he’s enjoying this, she can tell; he already knows what he wants to do and Emma’s nails dig into her palms, every bone in her body demanding she go up there and not let this happen. It should be her that pays the price. Not Will.

His fingers tighten around it again and Will stops breathing, hand clutched to his chest where his heart should be until finally, Pan loosens his grip, looking at Will with his head cocked again. “You really did get old, Scarlet. But maybe not old enough…” He looks him over carefully, then the mass in his hand. “Eleven Lost Boy’s lives… so many years - But I think we can make it an even hundred. For old times sake?” he smirks. “That sounds fair,” he decides. “You can pay me back a hundred years.”

When he squeezes the heart again, Will collapses onto the deck, bits of dust slipping from Pan’s fingers as the light flickers in and out and Emma can see Killian physically holding Wendy back now, knuckles white around the leather of her coat. Nobody breathes. The crew look like it’s taking everything they have not to run - either to Will or away from Pan. Instead they stand frozen.

She counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. Five… Will rasps out a strangled cry, fists balling against the wood planks of the deck. Six. Seven. Eight… She watches him grit his teeth, sweat beading along the back of his neck, fighting. Nine. Ten. Eleven…

When she reaches eleven, Will takes his first breath in what feels like hours, the light in Pan’s loosened grip smaller and dimmer but still glowing, still beating.

“That should do it,” he smiles, returning Will’s heart to his chest.

Will gasps, settling his hand over it as if to feel the beat under it - make sure it’s really there. Then he frowns up at the boy. “Is… is that it?”

“Scarlet.” It’s Killian who snaps this time. “Below deck. Now.” Emma can’t see the look Wendy gives him when Will defers to her, but it sends him to his feet and across the deck in a second, head bent low.

“Emma,” he greets with all his usual bravado despite the raspiness of his breath when he finds her on the stairs. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She punches him in the arm. Hard. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Ow!”

“That was so stupid! What the hell were you thinking?”

Will shrugs. “I owed him one. And I’m not going to let Killian get one up on the galant gestures.”

“Hook.” Pan says, drawing her attention away before she can hit Will again. “If your crew isn’t going to play fair then they won’t get to play with us anymore”

“I’ll get them in line,” he promises and she can hear the edge in his voice.

“Good. Do you need a reminder of the rules? You were away for a long time…”

“I remember.”

Pan nods, happy now - a child getting his way. “Good. Then the game can continue.” He turns, hovering over the railing of the ship and casting them one last glance as the threat of a storm begins to clear. “But no more chances,” he warns. Both Killian and Wendy nod solemnly before he flies off towards the beach.

As soon as he’s gone, Wendy practically runs towards the cabin. “All of you,” Killian commands, drawing the crew’s attention away from their former captain. “Back to work. Now,” he snaps when they don’t obey immediately. They scatter, finding work to keep them busy.

Emma has to jump out of the way as the other woman barrels down the stairs, grabbing Will by the shoulders. She turns him one way and then another, hands coming to his face as she does the same to his head, checking for injuries. Finally, her hand settles on his chest and Emma can tell she’s counting heartbeats. Will lets her, not resisting as she checks him for any sign of permanent damage.

When she seems satisfied, she raises furious eyes to his, the hand at his chest fisting in his shirt and shoving him away from her. “Fuck you, Scarlet,” she bites out before storming off down the hall.

Killian takes over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Will is less willing to let himself be manhandled by him though, shoving at his arm even as he holds firm. “Do you not know how to follow an order, mate?”

“I’m not your mate,” he snaps back, more annoyed than angry. “And you’re not my Captain.”

“And here I thought we were getting along,” Killian answers sarcastically. “And you don’t have to like it, but I am your Captain and if you do that to her again -”

“Like you did when you took off to find Henry?”

“That was different. I did it to spare her the pain of losing someone she cares for.”

“So did I. Do you really think Pan would have been so forgiving if you’d taken the blame? You’ve been gone a long time, Hook. You’re not his favourite playmate anymore.”

“And you are?”

“I’m still alive aren’t I?”

Killian scoffs. “You’ve lasted a decade. Speak to me when you survive a century.”

“Well if we keep her alive we won’t have to,” Will snarks, nodding at Emma.

“Me?”

“I wouldn’t have stuck my neck out for you if I didn’t think you were actually going to change things.” Emma doesn’t have an answer to that, the weight of his faith in her more than she can handle right now. “Don’t make me regret it, aye?” he winces, rubbing at his chest.

“What did he do to you?”

He gives a small shrug. “Crushed my heart. Wasn’t so bad, really - I’ve had worse.”

“What?”

“It’s a particular favourite of his,” Killian explains.

“I’ve seen him do it to disobedient Lost Boys for hours - days once. He’s done it longer to me when I was his second. I’m surprised it was only…”

“Eleven seconds,” Emma supplies. The longest eleven seconds she can remember.

“Aye - I thought he’d be angrier.”

“What did he mean by you paying him back a hundred years?”

Will shrugs again. “Pan loves his riddles. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I need to go find Wendy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Killian warns and it almost sounds like a threat.

Will scoffs, finally shoving his hand away. “Please. I’ve done stupider things than egg Pan on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Killian rolls his eyes and Will glares at him before smirking.

“I’ve become very good at getting her to forgive me.”

Emma wonders for a moment if she’s going to have to prevent a murder. “Get out of here before I get Pan to come back and crush your heart for good.”

“What? I thought we were mates -”

“Go,” Emma tells him. Before Killian follows through on that promise. Thankfully, Will isn’t stupid enough to push him any further and does as he’s told. She puts a hand on Killian’s arm. “Just remember that he almost died today. Cut him a bit of slack.” He doesn’t seem convinced, continuing to glare after the younger man. “And he might have saved our lives. He definitely saved mine.”

Killian scoffs, finally looking at her. “And he’ll never let us forget it.”

“So what’s next?” she asks, trying to distract him from his sort of daughter and her sort of boyfriend’s sort of love life.

“Hmm?”

“We’ve got the lorelei, we’ve got Tinkerbell, we’ve got a ship full of Lost Boys and pirates, we kept him from getting any more shadows… what do we do now?”

“We figure out what Pan’s plan is.”

“Can we not just… kill him?” she knows they can’t - probably - but she’s pretty sure the idea hasn’t been thrown out there yet so it’s worth a shot.

Killian shakes his head like she expected him to. “If we could, I’d have done it by now. I did once, when I first returned to Neverland after decades away. I ran him through with my sword trying to avenge my brother.” Her hand on his arm tightens without her meaning it to. “He pretended, made a whole show and lay there until I was sure he was dead - and then he started to laugh. Just another game - the first one I played with him even if I didn’t know it. He told me it was the only time he would let me win.”

“We’ll find a way.”

He smiles at her, small and half-hearted but she believes him. “I’m sure you will.”

***

“Why do we have to do this?” one of the boys - Kyle, she thinks - complains, dropping the wooden sword to his side. It had been so strange and jarring to learn some of the Lost Boys names over the last few days. “ We have nothing to do but wait ,” Killian had said. “Tink has let the Constant know that we’re ready to meet with them and they’ll send word when they’ve decided if they’ll hear us out .” For some reason, the boys had all been like Wendy in her mind, born ‘ somewhere around the 1880s, I think, ’ or Will, who’d come to Neverland during the Blitz, using dreams to escape the nightmares of real life. But this new group of boys weren’t characters out of a book or an old black and white photo.

“My mom named me after the guy in some robot movie that had just come out,” Kyle mentioned and it was a moment before it clicked. “The Terminator?!” He’d only shrugged. “That might’ve been it.” This boy was her age. He couldn’t have been born more than a couple of years after she was. Another boy’s tattered shirt had a faded image of Lilo and Stitch on it - he didn’t look more than twelve. These boys were just… kids. Regular kids like the ones she grew up with and the ones who lived in Storybrooke or Boston - boys like Henry. And now they were soldiers.

“We have to do this,” Wendy answers, giving his fake sword a tap with her own so his arm straightens, “because everyone on this ship needs to be ready to defend her when the next raid happens - If you want to live until the next one.”

“But we already know how to fight,” he whines. “We defeated you every time.” If Wendy’s upset at the casual mention of her crewmates being slaughtered, she doesn’t let it show. “I already know how to sword fight.”

“Do you now?” Killian calls from the helm before she can answer.

“Captain…” his first mate starts but he ignores her. He’s an imposing figure, clad in black leather with the metal of his hook gleaming in the sun and the weight of his sword heavy at his hip. As his footsteps echo across the deck as he makes his way over to where the boys had begun their training they all go silent.

“Now now, Mr. Darling, if the boy thinks he’s beyond our instruction he should have the chance to prove himself.” He stops in front of the new recruit, drawing his sword in a slow, measured movement, the tip an inch from the kid’s nose and Emma panics for just a second that he might cut him down right there. But then he turns to Wendy, “Bosun, get this boy a real blade,” and she realizes he’s had exactly the effect he intended as everyone around him tenses.

Wendy goes to fetch a weapon, shooting him the kind of eyeroll kids learn to make in front of adults without getting caught - one she knows very well.

“Think you can defeat me, boy?”

To his credit, Kyle straightens his shoulders, taking the offered sword and raising it to the Captain’s, ready for a fight. She thinks she might see the tiniest bit of approval beneath the scorn in Killian’s expression. The boy moves first, swinging at him with all his might as he deflects again and again. Killian’s toying with him - she knows he is. She saw Killian fight Will that first night on the Jolly. His blocks are too slow, letting the kid get within inches of hitting him. He doesn’t make a single attack, his feet unmoving and she’d think it was cruel if she didn’t understand why he was doing it.

Finally, when the boy starts to sweat, she sees Killian shift, adjusting his stance as he swings at his opponent. The block comes almost too late, only stopped by the way Killian pulls back at the last moment. He does it again, and again, backing the boy across the deck with blow after blow. There’s no flourish to it, no showmanship, just skill and finesse and strength and speed.

The kid starts to panic, the attacks coming too fast and Emma holds back a gasp when Killian’s blade slices across Kyle’s forearm. After that, it’s easy for Killian to twist his blade out of the kid’s shocked hand with his own, his elbow coming up to knock the boy flat on his ass. By the time he looks up, nose bloody, eyes dazed and watery, Killian’s sword is pointed at his chest, his brow arched in a harsh challenge.

“Please don’t kill me,” the boy says so quietly and so heartbreakingly that she thinks she sees Killian’s face soften just the barest amount before he takes a step back, dropping his sword.

“Listen, all of you,” he booms, though every eye on the deck is already on him. “You’ve never defeated anyone. Until now you’ve been playing a game and the game has been rigged. And I’m sorry to say, you’re now on the losing team. The only thing that matters from this moment on is staying alive. And the only way to stay alive is being a skilled enough fighter - and knowing how to hold that skill back enough - that Pan will want to fight you again.”

He lets this hang in the air for a moment, the boys’ faces showing different degrees of confusion and understanding and horror. “So all of you will follow Mr. Darling’s instructions and learn everything you can from him. You’ll fight to defend this ship, yourselves, and each other when the time comes because you’re part of my crew now.” He reaches a hook out to Kyle who sits cradling his nose and heaves the boy to his feet. “And we look after our own.”

Killian looks at the boy who nods, message received loud and clear, before clapping him on the shoulder. “Scarlet, see that our newest crew member’s wounds are tended to. He put up quite the fight.”

“Aye, Captain,” Will complies without argument or sarcasm and Killian must be as shocked as she is because he keeps his mouth shut.

“Darling must have said something to him,” he tells her when Emma joins him, his sword sliding carefully back into its sheath as he watches Wendy continue her lesson.

“Or maybe you just did.” Killian only looks at her, brow raised in disbelief before she gestures at the sword hanging at his belt. “So, come on, are you going to show me how to use this thing or not?”

His face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Ah, Swan, I’ve dreamed of the day that you’d ask me to show you how to handle my sword.”

***

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Tinkerbell asks. She’d floated onto the ship that night, looking stronger than when Emma had last seen her - the few days with the Constant clearly having done her good. Her wings looked taller, fully unfurled, the crepe paper like skin no longer breakable and frail as they flutter behind her.

“Is there good news?” Killian sighs, standing from his desk where he’d been looking over maps of the island while Emma asked him questions about them, how each was different based on when it was drawn, what Pan had changed, who he had brought. He seemed unbothered by the fairy magicking his window open and letting herself in.

“They’ve agreed to meet with you. They haven’t agreed to help,” she clarifies when Killian looks surprised, “but they’ve agreed to hear you out.”

“And the bad news?”

“They’ll only meet us in Echo Caves.”

Killian lets out a heavy, long suffering sigh, thumb brushing the inner corner of his brow, words dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful. Did they happen to give a reason why?”

“Something about making sure you can be trusted - some incident at skull rock?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” he mutters under his breath.

“Really because the way I heard it -”

“It’s fine. Tell them we agree to their terms. When do they expect us?”

“First light.”

Killian nods. “We’ll be there. And Tink,” he adds when she turns to leave. “Thank you.”

She sneers. “I’m not doing it for you.” And then she’s gone before he can say another word.

“What’s Echo Caves?” Emma pulls her knees up to her chest where she’s perched on the desk after she’s sure the fairy’s out of earshot and Killian’s sagged back in his seat.

“Another one of Neverland’s little delights,” he sighs again. “The magic of the cave compels you to share your deepest secret - whether or not you’re even aware of it.”

“Have you gone before?” she asks.

“Once.” His hand drifts up without her really noticing, fingers curling around her calf, thumb tracing over her shin and she thinks maybe it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “Pan wanted to test my loyalty.” She rests her chin on her knee, dreading what he may have had to confess to Pan to keep himself alive on this horrible island. He smiles up at her then, a put-on apathy. “Thankfully, I had many terrible deeds in my past to confess to.” He doesn’t give her a chance to say anything before he releases her and stands again - something dropped between them and something else put up.

“Are you afraid?”

Killian doesn’t look at her. “Always.” Her heart tightens. She understands - she’d only been here a few weeks and she’s been terrified every moment - apart from her brief experiment with fairy wine - centuries… she can’t imagine. “But not of the Constant. Tiger Lily may hold a grudge but they’ll do whatever’s best for this island, and so will their people. And I’ve no ill-intent towards them or love for Pan.” He looks at her then, pausing. “Are you?”

“Of having to spill my deepest secret to a bunch of strangers? No, why would I possibly be stressed about that?” she smirks half-heartedly.

“Strangers?” Killian raises a brow, sliding back across the room and resting his hand and hook on the desk on either side of her. “You hurt me, Swan. I thought we were friends - acquaintances at least.”

She shoves at his chest rolling her eyes and he smirks. “Usually a guy has to buy me dinner before he gets to hear the all sordid details of my past.” Or coffee in an empty theme park where a pretty smile and a well-placed sneak into his past makes her think she’s safe to reveal herself, to trust someone with all of it.

“Hey,” his thumb brushes over her knee as he tries to catch her gaze. “Where’d you go?”

Not anywhere he needs to know about - or anywhere she’d care to revisit. So she smiles at him, lets her foot brush against the side of his calf, teasing, distracting. “Just trying to figure out which of my deepest secrets are gonna come spilling out of me tomorrow.” He doesn’t believe her, his lie detector almost as good as her own, she's realized, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Well you are a mystery, Swan,” he tells her with a half-hearted smirk.

“Not for much longer, apparently.”

Something shifts in the way he’s looking at her, sympathy or understanding as he cocks his head. “You know you don’t have to come if -”

“I’m going.”

Killian huffs a laugh. “Of course you are. Well if there’s anything you want to get off your chest without an audience, now’s the time.” His eyebrow quirks up in challenge. “Won’t be a secret anymore if you tell me.” She meets it.

“What? Is one revelation about me not enough for you?”

Something shifts again, something heavier, her skin warm and humming with fear and anticipation as he looks at her the way he had when he’d been curled around her on the floor of the brig. His voice is lower when he speaks. “Perhaps I’d just like to know you, Swan.”

She casts her eyes to the floor, his gaze too intense - always too intense - before setting the smirk that had fallen from her lips back in place. “You first.”

“I’m an open book, love. Ask me anything you like.”

She has one question, one that’s been itching at the back of her mind since she’d seen the canvas of scars etched across his skin. “Who were you? Before you were here - before you were ‘Captain Hook’?”

His bravado falters for a moment. “I was many things. Son, brother, slave, sailor, lieutenant, captain, pirate, partner… None for very long.” He gives her another of those showy smirks. “It seems Hook is the only one that stuck.” Her heart breaks a little, so many loves lost and so many injustices done in such a short life. She thinks of the scars that had criss-crossed his back, that she’d asked about so casually then - slave he’d said - and she wishes she could do it over, pay both them and him the reverence they deserve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

His hand slides to her wrist, to the laces she’d tied there the first day she’d come back to the sheriff’s office alone. All of his things had been gone. Desk cleared out, jacket taken from the back of his chair, the few things he bothered to keep - a tacky ceramic wolf, a photo of him and some friends she never bothered to ask him about, even the bottle of whiskey he kept in his top drawer - had been ransacked. He had no family that she knew of - no family that could be found at all - and she’d just known that it was Regina. She’d come in and wiped every trace of Graham clean like he never existed - apart from a single pair of boots forgotten by the back door.

“They belonged to someone I used to know.”

“Someone you cared for?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. “He’s gone now.”

“It mattered enough for you to keep a piece of him with you.” He fingers the laces again, focusing on them, not making her meet his eyes again. “I know what it is to lose the people that matter most.”

Emma pulls her hand back, sliding them both behind her under the guise of leaning back on the desk and gives another dismissive shrug even as she can’t make herself look at him. “Yeah, well, when you grow up like I did you learn pretty quickly not to get attached.”

Thankfully, Killian knows how to take a hint, straightening and flashing her an off grin. “If only we all possessed such a skill, Swan.” Then, pushing away from the desk, “I best let the others know what awaits us all tomorrow.”

Emma swallows, this island has already taken so much from her - her son, her name, her memories - almost - her whole belief system… How much more can it really take? She doesn’t ask - not anymore as she slides into Killian’s bed instead of her own, and he doesn’t say anything as he joins her a few minutes later, just pulls her against him, breath warm and comforting against her cheek as they try to shut themselves off from the cries that ring out on the deck above them.

*******

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#captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs smut #cs au #cs neverland au #ouat season 1 au #cs neverland new year #don't hate me #It'll have a happy ending.... they just have to work for it #you can blame Kay for all the Will content in this one

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nebularious · 1 year

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Finally made a ref sheet for my girl! I also made ocs for the other 3 sprite blood castes who all pronounce GIF differently, they are all friends :>

#spriteblood #csau #cs au #crow strider au #crow strider #homestuck #trollsona #troll oc #fantroll #oc art #artwork #im not dead i swear #school's been kicking my ass

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homestuck-book-club · 5 months

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Week 5!!

We r starting with the new hs^2 update meaning this week is technically 8 days

16th April (Wednesday) - HS^2 pages 602-614

17th April (Thursday) - 1823-1892

18th April (Friday) - 1893-1962

19th April (Saturday) - 1963-2023

20th April (Sunday)- 2024-2102

21st April (Monday)- 2103-2172

22nd April (Tuesday)- 2173-2242

23rd April (Wednesday)- 2243-2312

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4getfulimaginator2022 · 1 month

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Captain Swan Fic Recs

Fic Recs (with my cover art)

Tagging the authors on Tumblr: @dancingdoula44, @o-u-a-timer, @killians-sex-hair, @livinglights, @goforlaunchcee

Thank you for all you've done for the CS fandom - sending you much love and many hugs! 🥰❤️💝💞

#captain swan #once upon a time #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer appreciation day #ffwad #fanfic appreciation day #ao3 #cs fic rec

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 months

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Throwback Thursday: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Note: This story was first posted on March 14, 2018. Given that it is once again National Pi Day, I was persuaded to repost.

Title: National Pi Day Meet Cute

Fandom: Captain Swan

Rating: G

Words: 1678

Summary:

When Mary Margaret Blanchard finds out her grandson has a very single, very handsome math teacher, she devises a way to create a sweet little meet cute between her daughter, Emma, and said math teacher.

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Bye mom!” Henry yelled, as he hopped out of Emma’s yellow bug, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started sprinting toward his friends. “See you after school!”

Emma waved him off, smiling as she saw her son catch up with a few of his friends, talking animatedly. It had been nearly a month since the two of them had moved to the sleepy little town of Storybrooke, Maine. Emma had worried that moving Henry halfway through his sixth grade year would be difficult, but her precocious little eleven-year-old had taken to small town living like a duck to water. He’d made more friends than he knew what to do with, and he absolutely loved school.

The smile slid from Emma’s face as she looked at the fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie sitting on the passenger seat before her.

The problem with having a preteen who loved school is that he talked about it. A lot. And one of the people he talked about more than any other was his absolute favorite teacher, Mr. Jones, who was, as Henry put it, “the best teacher in the whole world”.

When Emma and Henry had left New York for Storybrooke, the two of them had moved in with her mom and dad, David and Mary Margaret Blanchard, at least until they got settled. When Henry started talking about Mr. Jones, Mary Margaret had perked up. When he told her that Mr. Jones was single and “old like mom”, Emma had groaned.

Emma knew she’d never get another moment’s peace.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret had said one morning, a conniving look in her eyes. “It’s really important you be involved in Henry’s education. Don’t you think you should meet his teachers? Maybe we should have one of them over for dinner one night. How about, oh, I don’t know…Mr. Jones?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look mom,” she said, “I get what you’re doing, but I’m not looking for a relationship. I did the whole ‘fall in love’ thing about twelve years ago, and Neal Cassidy cured me from any desire to ever do it again.”

“But not every guy is like Neal,” Mary Margaret said earnestly. “Not every guy is going to leave you. And love is so worth it when you find the right guy.”

Emma muttered something about needing to get some work done before she went into the office, hoping her mom would drop the subject.

No such luck.

Last night, Mary Margaret had come up with her most brilliantly evil plan yet, and what’s worse, she’d gotten Henry involved.

“Hey mom,” Emma said as she returned to the loft after her day at the sheriff’s station. “Something smells good.”

Mary Margaret shot her the kind of smile that Emma knew was trouble. “So Henry came home from school today and told me that tomorrow is National Pi Day. I was thinking I ought to do something to celebrate. I thought I would make a pie for his math teacher, Mr. Jones—you know his very single, very handsome and very eligible teacher? You know because….pie for Pi Day?”

Emma groaned.

“And…” Mary Margaret said in a way that made Emma sure she didn’t want to hear what came next, “I was thinking maybe you could take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

“Mom…”

“Yeah!” Henry said, coming in and swiping an apple slice from the bowl where his grandma was tossing them with cinnamon and sugar. “Mom, Mr. Jones would love it, and I can’t carry the pie in myself! I’d look like a loser!”

“Since when does pie make you look like a loser?” Emma asked.

“Mom!” Henry said, drawing out the single syllable and following it with an eyeroll. “I can’t take a pie to a teacher. I’ll look like a teacher’s pet!”

“He’s right, Emma,” Mary Margaret said solemnly. “Middle school is a brutal place. You don’t want your son to be ostracized, do you?”

Emma sighed, shaking her head at the two. She knew when she was beat, and with the two of them ganging up on her, she was most definitely beat. “Fine. I’ll take the pie to Mr. Jones.”

And so here she was, bright and early on National Pi Day, weaving her way through a sea of rowdy pre-teens, looking for room 108, where Mr. Perfect himself would be waiting.

Mr. Perfect she scoffed to herself. The man was a math teacher, a math teacher who was passionate about his topic. Just about screamed nerd didn’t it? There was probably a very good reason he was very single.

She stopped just outside the door and took a deep breath. She’d get this over with, and then be able to go home and tell her matchmaking mother that her meddlesome schemes had failed miserably.

“Mr. Jones?” she said, knocking on the doorframe, and looking in at the man whose back was turned to her as he worked on his computer.

Mr. Jones turned around, and for a moment Emma forgot to breath, though she’s pretty sure she gasped so loudly her mom could hear it all the way from the loft. Mr. Jones was quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life.

He gave her an appreciative grin, getting to his feet and coming to meet her with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Killian Jones at your service. And who might you be, love?”

Great! Not only was he hotter than any many had a right to be, but he had a smooth, British accent as well. Butterflies started doing the polka in her stomach.

“Love?” He said again, and it was only then that Emma realized she’d been staring, mouth hanging open, at the man in front of her for a solid two minutes.

She shook her head. Emma! Get a grip!

“Sorry,” she said, hating the slightly husky sound of her voice. “I’m Emma Swan. My son Henry is in one of your sixth grade math classes.”

“Henry!” Mr. Jones said. “I must admit he’s one of my favorites. What can I do for you Mrs. Swan?”

“Miss,” Emma said, lamely, surprised and annoyed by how hard she was finding it to string two words together in a coherent fashion.

“Beg pardon?”

“It’s Miss Swan,” Emma said. Henry’s dad and I…well, let’s just say we haven’t been together since before he was born and leave it at that.”

He grinned at her from beneath heavily hooded eyes, and the look made her heart skip a beat. The amount of gorgeous this man was displaying should be illegal. It really should. “I must say, I’m rather glad to hear it. So what brings you to my classroom, love, though I’m hardly complaining about a lovely and single woman coming to visit me?”

Emma felt the blush covering her face. She averted her eyes, desperately looking for a way to get ahold of herself. Her eyes landed on the item she was holding. “Uh, I came to give you this. Henry thought you might like a pie for National Pi Day, because, you know, pie, Pi?”

He laughed, and Emma looked up, admiring the dimples in his scruff-covered cheeks, the tiny lines around his shockingly blue eyes. “I’ll accept this happily on one condition.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You simply must stay and have a slice with me,” he said gesturing toward his desk.

“Don’t you have, you know classes to teach and stuff?” Emma asked.

“Aye,” Killian said, “but as it happens, first period is my prep period, so I’m all yours for the next hour.”

“I don’t know…”

“I insist,” Killian said. “You, no doubt have heard about me from your son, but I know next to nothing about his mother. Just who are you, Swan?”

Emma grinned, giving him a flirtatious look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would,” he answered with a wink that did not turn her insides to mush. (It absolutely turned her insides to mush.)

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

An hour and a half later, Emma pulled up in front of her parents’ apartment building, dropped her head onto her hands on the steering wheel and groaned.

She and Killian had fallen into easy conversation over their pie, and just before she left, he’d asked her out to dinner that night, insisting he must return the favor.

She’d said yes almost before the sentence was complete. She had a date with her son’s (hot) math teacher.

There would be no living with her mother after this.

~The End~

Notes:

--Happy National Pi Day! When I heard on the radio this morning that we were celebrating that particular holiday, it brought back to mind something that happened to me several years ago. My sister had a single math teacher who was around my age. My mom decided that he would be absolutely perfect for me. (Why? I don’t know; she hadn’t even met the guy. All she knew was that he was my age and single, lol.). So she came up with this brilliant, devious plan to create a little meet cute. She made a pie for the guy for National Pi Day, called me at my apartment, and asked if I would take my baby sister into school that morning and take the pie to her eligible bachelor of a teacher. I rolled my eyes and agreed to do it. Sadly, my story has an anti-climactic ending. When I got to the classroom, Mr. Perfect was not there, so I ended up just setting the pie on his desk and leaving. I never did meet the math teacher, which is fine with me. We must not affirm our mothers in their crazy matchmaking schemes, lol.

--But, as that story came to mind, I realized it, like so many other things, would make a very interesting CS au. So happy pi day, everyone! I wish you all drop dead gorgeous, blue eyed, black haired, ginger-bearded math teachers to make your Pi Day complete!

#throw back thursday #captain swan fanfiction #cs au #my fanfiction

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shady-swan-jones · 1 month

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August Rec List!

So, it's August after April, right? RIGHT?

Today is Author Appreciation day so that ties in nicely, thank you @4getfulimaginator2022. Show your appreciation in the comments, it's mandatory. I have no way to enforce this but come on, spread the love!

She's Perfect But You're Mine (3/3) by me

Killian has a girlfriend. Emma handles it with the utmost maturity and grace. Or not.

Dark Swan Story by isaballerina89

What if Emma is pregnant as Dark Swan? Based in season 5 captain swan love story fanfic. It is different from the show.

What if... (Season 4) by Kml19

What if Captain Hook turned into the Dark One to get revenge on Rumplestiltskin? What if he only met the heroes in Neverland?

I can’t love you in the dark (oceans apart) by weareforeverstarlaced

Emma had long resigned her role as princess and Killian did the same, having left piracy. But now, as the mist covers their cliff side cottage, Emma and Killian say their final goodbyes when Rumplestiltskin steals the former pirates heart. And all they could do is wait it out until Rumplestiltskin’s torment was done and it’s crushed. Not knowing when it would happen. However, when morning comes and Killian is gone, Emma has one final idea to bring him back.

Ties That Bind (6/20) by Anonymous

When Killian Jones returns home after years away, it's not for a warm reunion—he’s there to confront his adoptive father, the powerful and rich politician Mr. Gold. Desperate to free Milah from his clutches, Killian finds himself ensnared in one of Gold’s infamous deals. In exchange for Milah’s freedom, Killian must carry out a dangerous mission that puts him on a collision course with Emma Swan, a sharp and determined agent for a secretive government force.

Into the Parallel by CSColifer

Emma and Killian are Travelers with and ability to travel through time and across parallel realms. A chance meeting will change their lives forever.

Cann I Be Your Werewolf? by @belovedcreation

After a particularly nasty encounter with a criminal, bounty hunter Emma Swan's friend convinces her to adopt a guard dog from the shelter. Little does she know that the massive dog she brings home is really the werewolf Killian Jones, who's laying low in wolf form to hide from danger.

Heart Bound by @4getfulimaginator2022

CS historical AU (mid-19th century), real world setting, teacher!Emma and artist!Killian. After years of private tutoring, Emma goes to teach in a village by the sea in a desperate bid to escape her heartbreak and the outside world. She thinks that she'll always be lonely and out of place, but the local lighthouse keeper, a fellow recluse and the town outcast, makes her see that she is right where she belongs.

Animal Instincts by @hookswench

Killian Jones noticed the moment Emma Nolan walked into the tavern. She was innocent... and she was trouble. As a lone wolf, he wanted no part of her pack politics. But when rival Neal Cassidy attacks, Killian can't just stand by. One quick escape later, and Killian finds himself alone with temptation. And Emma isn't one to back down from what she wants.

The Secret Romance by CaptainSwan02

Emma Swan and Killian Jones have been hiding their relationship for a while now, not wanting anyone to find out. The two have navigated treacherous waters and clandestine meetings, all to keep their love hidden from prying eyes. But as their feelings deepen and the challenges they face grow, the strain of their secret weighs heavily on them.

haunted by the ghost of you by @exhaustedpirate

Killian is cursed - cursed to lose Emma over and over again. He is doomed to live, to lose his love forever until he can break it.

For All Life and For All Time by @snowbellewells

Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

Pan Says... (13/13) by @hollythecurious

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.

Flight 815 (3/?) by @honey77bun

Emma moved into a new, incomprehensible world for her, in 1986. What to do? Unclear. And in this chapter, she'll have to find the strength to figure out what the hell is going on.

Too Well Tangled (12/21) by @myfearless-love

Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness." His past, a stormy mosaic of rejection and rebellion, has forged a man both feared and revered. Yet, the indomitable Miss Nolan proves an unexpectedly formidable opponent for his infamous charm.

Dracula in Storybrooke (6/?) by @grimmswan

“You don’t seem to be a vampire like the ones Dracula made.” Emma said softly, tracing her fingertips along Killian’s jaw. They were laying in bed. Holding one another. Gazing at each other lovingly.

Yet another villain had tried to tear them apart. And had failed.

Not Broken At All (17/?) by @donteattheappleshook

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

I’ll Wait a Lifetime or Two by @hookedonapirate

At forty, Emma Swan is living her best life. She's happily single and owns a thriving art gallery with her best friend Elsa. And of course, there's the love of her life, her teenage son, Henry. Since the divorce three years ago, her carefully curated life has been quiet, peaceful, ordinary. So why does the one guy she ends up falling for have to be the rockstar her son has a poster of on his bedroom wall, whose life is nothing short of extraordinary?

Independence Day by @whimsicallyenchantedrose

With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

Timeless (4/?) by @killiansprincss

Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

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

#cs fic rec #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs modern au #cs fic #ouat ff #ouat fic #ouat fanfic

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st0r-fruit · 3 months

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Sigh...cant keep holding you guys like this...

Have a relationship tier as a wip....take this as you will

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hollyethecurious · 29 days

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CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (1/?)

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.

I had hoped to be further along in writing this before my posting date, but alas… ‘tis not the case. This is turning out to be a much bigger beast than I intended and will likely be one of the longer fics I have written to date. That said, I do want to attempt to keep to some sort of schedule, so for now, I will be posting every two weeks in the hopes that I can bank more chapters and eventually update more frequently.

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:

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. 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.

Wesen. That’s what one of the Grimm brothers had called them in their other writings; in the journals and manuscripts they’d kept, cataloging these beings who walked among humans, yet were anything but.

Though Jacob Grimm had not been the first of his kind - those who were capable of seeing these creatures, these wesen, for what they truly were - for whatever reason, the men and women who possessed this same ability, this same birthright, would primarily become known as Grimms throughout the wesen world.

Perhaps it was because of how meticulously the elder Grimm brother had kept records, or how he had been the first to re-establish connections and relationships with others of his kind for the first time in many centuries, allowing the exchange of knowledge and organizing a more methodical way of dealing with the creatures their forefathers believed must be eradicated.

Though no one knew how or why, at some point, long before the brothers penned their first novel - no doubt inspired by the eldest brother’s encounters and retold as folklore by the younger - those who now called themselves Grimms had taken up the responsibility to protect humans from wesen, slaughtering entire bloodlines of these creatures without hesitation or remorse.

Never considering that they themselves weren’t exactly human either.

For just as wesen were born unto wesen, Grimms were born into Grimm families. The ability to see the truth, literally, passed through the family bloodlines, but there was only ever one Grimm in a family at a time. Possessing special abilities, Grimms had superior strength and stamina, as well as an ability to heal faster from injury. They were quick studies in the use of weaponry and had a natural talent for art and story-telling, which was a necessary trait given that they were compelled to chronicle all of their wesen encounters.

However, the most important gift was their ability to see a wesen woge when others could not.

A woge was when a creature would change from their human to wesen form, revealing their true, animalistic or nightmarish self. Although humans were capable of seeing a creature for what they truly were should it woge fully, most woges were a half measure, a demi-woge as some called it, only perceptible to other wesen - because they possessed wesen sight - and Grimms who could use this trait to identify their next target. However, it was also during a wesen’s woge, demi or full, that they could, in turn, identify a Grimm as well.

While Grimms only existed through birthright - a new one obtaining his or her powers when the previous Grimm in their family line died - not all creatures were born wesen. Some were made. Which, in the Grimms’ eyes, was one of the reasons they were so dangerous. Although gemacht - created - wesen were typically outcasts, and not favorably looked upon within wesen culture, the fact that some creatures had the ability to curse humans with a bastardization of their form, giving them the worst of their traits, was more than enough reason to eradicate their kind.

Some Grimms wondered whether wesen created these halflings as a way to throw suspicion off themselves, leaving Grimms to deal with these feral, newly turned and disoriented wesen while the pure-blooded wesen made their escape. Perhaps they were created for these types of distraction or even as a way for wesens to draw the attention of Grimms towards rival groups, using the hunters to dispatch their enemies for them. Whatever the reason, gemacht wesen were typically hunted by Grimms and wesen alike, considered by both sides to be an abomination, therefore, little was known about them, but there were some records within the logs kept in Grimm families, if one cared to look.

Killian Jones, however, had no interest in looking, or knowing, or learning, or indeed, having anything to do with his family’s Grimm legacy.

He and his brother, Liam, had been raised with the knowledge of their mother’s family’s ancestry. She had been the Grimm for her family line, until her death when Liam was sixteen and Killian twelve. A car accident that had claimed both of their parents' lives, and had altered Liam’s. Violently.

Upon Alice’s death, Liam had acquired the powers and abilities of the Grimm, but not the discipline or the skills to hone them. Fate, being the fickle, wretched bitch that she was, had placed the Jones brothers into a foster family of klaustreich, an alley-cat type creature that was prone to aggression and cruelty, as well as jealousy and a sense of possessiveness towards anything or anyone they felt a proprietary pull towards. Not typically known for their altruism, they likely only fostered children for the paycheck and as the Jones boys could attest, often mistreated and abused their charges.

The boys might well have been able to endure if the klaustreich son had not, in an attempt to intimidate and scare Killian into submission, woged with Liam in the room. Once the family had identified Liam as a Grimm, all hell had broken loose.

Fortunately, as most Grimms did, Alice Jones had made preparations in the event of her and her husband’s death, leaving the care of her sons and the knowledge of her bloodline in the hands of a fellow Grimm, Nemo. A longtime friend of the family, Nemo had, unfortunately, been overseas when he’d heard the news of Alice and Brennan’s demise. Having just arrived in town with the intention of taking custody of the boys, he showed up to the house with the authorities on the very same day the cat had been let out of the bag, so to speak.

Battered and bruised, but none too worse for wear, the Jones boys - who had fought off the feral, feline family and barricaded themselves in one of the rooms - were removed from the home, and into Nemo’s care. The clowder of klaustreichs was arrested by the police, who thought they had stumbled upon yet another sad, but all too common case of child abuse and neglect within the foster system.

That tussle with Liam was not the last time the klaustreichs met a Grimm in battle. However, the next one did not end as favorably for them. Nemo made certain of that.

Shouldering the responsibility left to him, Nemo moved the boys to Maine for a fresh start. By all outward appearances they lived a normal life, but nothing could have been further from the truth, although Killian certainly was allowed more normalcy than his brother.

After school, the boys had to endure hours of instruction, learning the various types of wesen and the most effective ways of killing each of them. Decapitation seemed to be the most popular choice among their Grimm ancestors, earning them the secondary moniker of dēcapitāre, as noted in the journals they kept in the basement of their Nantucket style house. That was until a break in had made Nemo overly cautious, causing him to acquire a second property - an old, abandoned, paint factory warehouse - where he’d fashioned an off the grid, bunker-style safe house on the harbour. He moved all of the Grimm artifacts, manuscripts, weapons, and supplies there, while keeping he, Liam, and Killian in the family home for appearances.

As the years passed and the boys grew older, Nemo and Liam spent less and less time at home. Often they crashed at the safehouse after a late night of sparing or studying, or they would be gone for days at a time… hunting. Though he missed his brother, Killian had reconciled the fact that he’d effectively lost him the day of their parent’s accident. Nothing had been the same between them since Liam had become a Grimm, but that did not mean they did not still care for and love one another. They just weren’t as close as they had once been, and they likely never would be.

After Killian had graduated high school and went off to college, the three men had effectively gone their separate ways. Nemo had fulfilled his promise and duty to Alice, and Liam had his own path as a Grimm to forge. During undergrad, Killian got a chance to embrace a true sense of normalcy for the first time in his life. Campus life, girls, classes, girls, parties, girls; he relished it all and even found his calling during one of the university's many job fairs and recruitment events. With his degree in criminology completed, he enlisted in the police academy and quickly worked his way through the ranks of the Storybrooke Police Department, located in the very town Nemo had moved them to all those years ago.

Though the Nantucket style house had long been sold, Nemo had transferred the deed of the safehouse to Liam and Killian, using false names and a dummy corporation in order to hide the identity of its true owners. While Killian wanted nothing to do with his family’s legacy, and had gone to great pains to try and forget the horrors he had learned about as an adolescent, he had relented when Liam begged him to take up residence at the safehouse for his own protection.

“Please, little brother,” Liam pleaded over the phone, the sketchy connection muffling Killian’s petulant response of ‘younger’ before he continued, “I know you want to distance yourself from me and our heritage, but if the wrong sort of wesen found out you were related to a Grimm, then--”

“Aye, I know,” Killian said with an exasperated sigh. “Having a Grimm brother puts a target on my back. I’m not a fool, Liam.”

“Then you’ll live at the safehouse?” Liam pressed. “And you won’t ever tell anyone or bring anyone there? You swear?”

“I swear.”

He’d been good to his word. Though he rented a modest studio apartment in the city so that he might have a physical address to keep on file with his work and avoid questions, his real residence for the past several years had been the loft in the safehouse, one level up from the bunker that still held remnants and reminders of who his family truly was, books and artifacts Liam had left behind when he’d filled a trailer and left Storybrooke for bloodier horizons. Books and artifacts Killian was determined to ignore, even if part of the agreement in him staying there was that he’d watch over things and keep them protected.

Perhaps, if he’d ever taken the time to look through those manuscripts when he’d dusted and oiled their bindings and covers, he would have realized the danger he’d fall victim to before it was too late.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian asked the detectives who were about to leave the gruesome scene. He was still just a uniformed officer, but his application to take the detectives exam had been accepted and he was eager to work crime scenes through a detective's eye. “Looks more like an animal attack.”

“DNA will tell us for sure,” one of them said while scribbling down something in his notebook. “Make sure the scene stays secure while CSU finishes their work.” Shooting him an apologetic look, he added, “I’m afraid it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Will do, detective,” Killian replied, lifting the crime tape for them, so they could pass under it and make their way back to their vehicle. Their heated vehicle with comfortable seats and snacks likely stashed away in the glove compartment.

Killian sighed and turned his attention back to the grisly site where a hiker had been found mauled and torn to pieces, with no clue as to what could have done such a thing except, strangely enough, a lone, fresh, boot print that had not belonged to the victim. He had asked whether this was truly a case of homicide because that was the question other officers and even some of the techs had been asking, but in reality Killian had his own suspicions. Suspicions that might have him calling his brother later should the case be deemed an animal attack, knowing full well it had not been an animal who had caused such carnage. He may not remember much from the lessons Nemo had tried to teach him alongside Liam, but he knew enough to suspect that this attack had been committed by a wesen. And a brutal one at that.

Killian’s pocket buzzed and he reached in to retrieve his cell phone, groaning silently at who was on the other end of the line.

“What is it, Will?” he answered. “I don’t have time for whatever it is you’re calling about. I’m trying to secure a crime scene.”

“Aw, come on, Jones. Not you, too. It’s Friday night, the moon is full, you ought to be out on the town and livin’ it up!”

Killian tried to stifle a half smile, then asked, “What do you mean, not you, too?”

“Rob’s gotten roped into extra duty tonight as well,” his mate informed him. “Something about a missing girl over in Glowerhaven.”

Glowerhaven, like Storybrooke, was a suburb of the larger city Killian’s precinct had partial jurisdiction in. Robin, Will, and Killian had all met at the police academy and despite Will washing out several months in and Rob being assigned to a different precinct, they’d all remained close over the years. Will now ran a bar at the epicenter of the intersecting lines of the city, Glowerhaven, and Storybrooke, and often tried to make it a hub for his mates and their uniformed colleagues.

Unfortunately, it sounded as though the SPD and the GPD would be too busy with their respective cases to live it up anywhere, much less at Will’s bar.

“Sorry, mate,” Killian commiserated. “Afraid I’ve got a long night ahead of me as well. Rain check?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will replied in a feigned disgruntled tone. “I’ve heard that before. I’ll add it to your growing tab of IOUs.”

“I promise I’m good for it.”

“Yeah, sure.” A more serious sigh crackled over the line before Will added, “Take care and watch your back out there, mate. The world is full of crazies.”

“Will do,” Killian promised, ending the call then muttering to himself, “Don’t I know it.”

For the next several hours Killian vigilantly patrolled the perimeter of the crime scene while the techs gathered evidence. It was just after midnight when the CSU officer in charge told him they were finished.

“Do you need me to have one of my guys stay to help you finish clearing the scene?”

“No,” Killian replied, waving them off. “You lot still have hours of work ahead of you.” With his thumb in his belt and his hip cocked to one side, Killian jutted his chin towards the scene and said, “It’s only a bit of tape and one final patrol. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the tech said, already motioning for their people to pack up their things and head out.

Killian watched the vans depart and began tearing down the police tape they’d used to cordon off the area. The techs had left behind one of their flood lights for him to use while finishing his own tasks, but after he stowed it away in his cruiser he realized how unnecessary that had been. The moon was bright enough for him to do a final patrol with the assistance of his flashlight to illuminate the hidden areas within the trees’ shadows.

He’d just finished a sweep of the perimeter when the skin at the back of his neck prickled and his hair began to stand on end. The area, which moments ago had been softly soundtracked by an ambiance of crickets and distant hoots of owls, had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Reaching down to his holster, he flicked loose the restraining strap with his thumb before palming his side arm. “Who’s there?” Killian called out as more prickles of unease crept over his skin and up his spine. “Storybrooke PD! Identify yourself!”

Movement flickered in his periphery and the quick succession of snapping twigs alerted him to someone fleeing the scene.

“Halt!” he yelled out while in hot pursuit with his gun drawn. “Storybrooke PD, I demand you stop and identify yourself!”

Barely able to keep pace, Killian chased after the suspect. His attempt to call in the incident over the radio on his shoulder had been met with static as he was clearly too far out of range. Not wishing to lose the perp, he did not want to risk digging his phone from his pocket, lest it slow him down. The pursuit lasted for an agonizing length of time, drawing Killian deeper and deeper into the woods, his legs burning and his lungs screaming from the extreme exertion.

He finally stopped after bursting into a clearing, biting back curses under his heaving breaths for having lost sight of the suspect. Holstering his weapon, he doubled over with his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. A painful stitch began to form at his side and sweat from his forehead threatened to blur his vision.

The snap of a branch was the only warning he had before something solid collided with him, knocking him to the ground. Inhuman snarls and the gnashing of teeth curdled Killian’s blood even before he caught sight of the monstrous wesen he was currently trying to fight off with all his might.

Blutbad. The Big, Bad Wolf. In full woge and ready to tear Killian’s throat out.

With his left forearm braced against the beast’s neck in an attempt to keep its canines from getting any closer, Killian reached down to try and retrieve his gun. Searing pain ripped through his arm. The blutbad had chosen to sink its teeth into the nearest bit of flesh he could get to, and Killian screamed as the bite turned to tearing. A shot went off, startling the creature and forcing him to release his prey, and it took Killian a moment to realize he had fired the weapon while in the throes of agony. Nearly blinded by the pain, Killian sat up and took aim at the fleeing blutbad, but could not manage to get another shot off before it disappeared into the trees. Shakily, he got to his feet, a howl in the distance making his blood run cold and causing his entire body to shake.

He had to get out of the woods. He had to call for back-up. He had to…

Stumbling, he headed back towards his cruiser. At least… he thought he was heading that direction. Brambles and branches scraped against his face and caught on his uniform while everything around him turned hazy. Off to his left he could see the flicker of a campfire. No. That wasn’t right. There were no campsites in this part of the forest, only hiking trails with strict policies regarding nighttime use. He headed towards the flames anyway and had to shield his eyes when he got closer, the light practically blinding him.

“Is anyone… is anyone there?” he called out, weakly, even as his other senses were being assaulted. He could smell a pungent mix of ingredients but had not the knowledge to identify them. There had been a grating sound of stone scrapping stone that had stopped when he’d entered the site, and it had been followed by a gasp that he was certain had meant to be soft and nearly silent, yet it had rang clearly in his ears.

Unable to hold himself up, Killian collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking violently and causing his teeth to chatter together. Footfalls pounded against the ground like a drumline and he managed to pry his eyes open in time to see a woman rushing to his side.

“H-Help,” he pleaded. His arm was still on fire from the pain while his body was wracked by chills. When the women bent over him, he was certain he was starting to become delirious as well. What other explanation could there be for an angel to appear to him?

“What happened?” she asked, looking him over. “Were you--”

“Attacked,” he choked out, lifting his arm so she could see his wound.

Peeling back the torn remains of his uniform, she examined the bite mark and her face grew pale and pensive.

“Oh, no,” she murmured.

Quickly, she stood and rushed back to where she’d come from. Killian tilted his head backward to try and keep his eyes on her, not wanting to let her out of his sight for several reasons. The scraping sound returned as she began to grind something with her mortar and pestle and though he could not decipher the words, he could hear them slip from her lips in a chant. Blackness began to creep from the corners of his vision, but not before he saw an unnatural shimmer erupt from beneath her skin. The last coherent thought he had before slipping into oblivion was that she must be an angel, because witches did not possess such beauty when they woged.

Quite the opposite really.

~/~

His body was stiff, his clothes soaked through from sweat, causing him to shiver. Attempting to pry his eyes open he coughed past the cottony feel lining his mouth and throat, then groaned when he began to shift positions.

“Don’t sit up too fast,” a soft, feminine voice warned him.

A hand pressed against his chest and the padding of whatever he was laying on dipped. Blinking, he tried to focus his vision, but had to clamp his eyes shut again when the soft lighting of the room blinded him.

“Bloody hell, that’s bright!”

“Oh, right!” the woman said. He could feel the bedding move as she did, and the room dimmed behind his eyelids. “There,” she said a bit further away now. “That should be better.”

Forcing his eyes open, he winced in anticipation. Fortunately, the lighting was easier on his vision now, so he took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. Bottles and canisters filled wooden shelves of deeply stained and aged cases that lined the long walls of the room. There was a massive workbench in the center of the space with a door at the far end. Behind him was a large, curtained window that overlooked the street. He could hear the occasional car and sounds of the city beyond. Beside him was a cased opening that led out to another space. Some sort of shop, by the looks of it. Spices and aromatics danced on his tongue and made his sinuses flare and itch.

Achoo!

“Bless you,” the voice said from the shadows next to the opening, and the blond angel from the forest emerged with a wary, yet concerned expression.

“You,” Killian said in a scratchy and unfamiliar voice. He tried to clear his throat, but it was too dry. Undeterred, he said, “You’re the woman from the woods. The hex, uh… hexen…” He cursed himself for not being able to remember the wesen term for witch.

“A hexenbeist?” she supplied with a tone of surprise.

“Aye!” Killian replied a little too enthusiastically, erupting into a fit of coughs.

Her expression and posture still guarded, she took a few steps towards him, assessing him with her brilliant green eyes. “You know about… us?” she said. “Wesen?”

“Aye,” he replied in a tone of gravel.

“How?”

Again, Killian tried to clear his throat, but he seemed incapable of producing any saliva.

“Could I trouble you for some water?”

The request snapped her out of her wary, slightly accusatory stance, and she quickly made her way to a small fridge at the back of the room. Killian considered his answer carefully as she grabbed a water bottle and brought it back to him, giving himself a few extra seconds to craft his response as he slowly sipped the water and coaxed moisture back into his throat, knowing she’d likely ask him again…

“So, how do you know about wesen?”

“I, uh…” he began, working through a few more coughs and deciding that something close to the truth would be best. “I had the misfortune of being fostered by a family of klaustreichs after my parents died. The son took great pleasure in tormenting me with his woged state.” His brows knit together and he cocked his head to the side as he glanced up at her. “How did you know I wasn’t just wesen myself?”

The pinched look of concern returned to her features and her gaze slipped from his down to his bandaged arm. “Because of that,” she told him. “If you were wesen then it wouldn’t have…”

She turned and grabbed one of the chairs resting against the wall. Bringing it over, she set it next to the bed then lowered herself onto the seat with a resolved and resigned sigh.

“You knowing about wesen is going to make this a little easier to explain, but it by no means is going to make it easier to accept.”

“Make what easier to accept?” Killian asked with a sense of dread.

“Do you know what attacked you tonight?” she asked.

“Aye.” Killian nodded. “A blutbad. In full woge.”

She shifted uncomfortably, causing the chair to creak annoyingly in his ears. “And do you know the significance of him being in full woge during the full moon?”

“I, uh…” Frantically, Killian searched his memory for any knowledge regarding blutbaden and the full moon. He couldn’t seem to concentrate over the pounding of his heart and ripples of anxiety coursing through him, though.

Perhaps sensing his distress, or simply wishing to deliver the blow with a measure of comfort, the woman took Killian’s hand and asked, “What do you know about lycanthropes? Werewolves?”

Killian shot off the bed with an unnatural speed and agility, forcing the woman from her chair and causing her to skitter back several steps. Her hands, raised protectively in front of her, were illuminated with a soft glow that seemed to originate from her palms. Killian lifted his own in supplication, an apology slipping from his lips.

“Sorry, love. I just…”

I can’t be, he thought with chaos and hysteria threatening to overtake him. I can’t be a lycanthrope. Liam kills lycanthropes.

Shaking the thought from his head, Killian swallowed hard and fixed his attention back onto the wary woman.

“Apologies,” he began again. “I don’t know how I… I’m not sure what--”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, lowering her hands as she took measured steps towards the workbench. “I can only imagine how much of a shock this is.” She braced her hands against the top of the table, an old, worn book laying open between them. “According to this, you're going to feel the effects of the change immediately. So, it’s only natural that you--”

“The change?” Killian croaked out. “You mean… becoming a werewolf? I’m a… Are you saying, that thing has turned me into a…”

“Yes.”

Something about her direct yet compassionate tone eased the hysteria threatening to overtake him. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands at the back, before dropping his hand to his chest where he pressed against the thundering in his ribcage.

The sound of the book sliding across the table pulled his attention back to the woman. Her expression beckoned him forward as she propped herself onto one of the stools that had been tucked under the work surface. Slowly, he shuffled forward until he stood hovering over the open pages of the book. He was struck by the similarities it held to the journals and manuscripts he’d been forced to study in his youth, with hand sketched illustrations and captions that had been translated into a myriad of languages.

“Not all blutbaden can create a lycanthrope,” she told him. Reaching over, she gestured to a section of text. He read without comprehending, his mind still racing. Fortunately, she paraphrased it for him.

“Lycanthropes, or more commonly known as werewolves, are created by blutbaden with a specific genetic mutation. The blutbad essentially goes off the rails during the full moon, and if they bite a human, and the human lives, they transfer some of their wesen characteristics to them.”

“Which characteristics?” Killian asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

“Your senses will be heightened. Sight, sound, smell. You’ll notice an increase in them in your day to day life, but they’ll be on overdrive, like they are now, during the full moon.”

“Will I…” he paused, swallowing back the bile working its way up his throat. “Will I… transform? Woge?”

“According to this, you’ll only be capable of woging during the full moon. I don’t think you’ll see other wesen woge outside of that time frame either.” Bringing the book back towards her, she turned the page and added, “Basically, everything is intensified during the full moon. Your senses, your mood and emotions, your abilities. You’ll be stronger, faster, have greater endurance and stamina, but will also be prone to volatile reactions. Your temper will be shorter. You’ll likely be more aggressive.”

“Violent, you mean.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “Aggression doesn’t have to turn into violence. You’ll just be more…”

“Like a powder keg.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, causing his eyes to flick up to hers.

“I can help with that.”

Relief and hope filled him and he gripped her hand in his. “You can… you can reverse this? You can cure me?”

She squeezed his hand and her expression effectively burst the elated bubble that had formed in his chest. “There’s nothing I can do to make you human again,” she said, remorsefully. “But there is something I can do to help mitigate the symptoms and keep you from falling prey to the worst of the condition.”

His shoulders slumped and he took a moment to come to terms with his new reality. He was no longer human. From this point forward his life would never be the same. It was like losing his parents all over again. Like losing Liam to the calling and duty of being a Grimm. He already hid so much of himself from those closest to him. From Will. From Robin. Now he would have to hide away these parts of himself from Liam. From Nemo. No one could ever know the fullness of who he was. The true him.

He wasn’t even sure if he knew who he was.

Bringing himself back to the here and now, Killian pulled his hand from the woman’s grip and asked, “What do you mean? How can you help me with… all of this?”

Again, she turned their focus back to the book. “Wolfsbane is a plant known for its uses against blutbad,” she told him. “It can hide one’s scent from them. It can also subdue them if they ingest it in great quantities.” Her eyes fell to where his arm was bandaged. “I made a paste of it and other herbs to apply to the bite so your transition would be less… intense, and it appears there is a tonic you can take at the outset of each full moon that can help minimize the effects of the cycle.”

Turning the pages again, she gestured towards a list of ingredients as well as a recipe for the tonic.

“There isn’t much here about the tonic’s effectiveness or what side effects it might have, so it would probably be best if we plan for you to just stay with me during the next full moon so I can keep tabs on you. See how it makes you react.”

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Killian moved into the woman’s personal space and wound a section of her hair through his fingers, his eyes hooded in a smolder and sultry tone dancing on his tongue as he cheeked, “If you wish to spend time cooped up together, love, just say so. No need to stand on ceremony.”

The widening of her eyes and sharp gasp falling from her lips made him balk and stumble back.

“I’m sorry, lass. I…” Forcibly shaking himself he took a tentative step back and declared, “I have no idea where that came from. Please forgive my…”

“It’s okay,” she said in an amused tone, waving off his apology.

“It is?” he replied, incredulously.

“I mean,” she continued, “I understand where it came from.”

“You do?”

She hummed, affirmatively, and explained, “It’s a blutbad trait. Using flirtation, charm, and guile to disarm their prey or throw off their rivals.” Turning the page again, his eyes fell to an excerpt he vaguely recognized from the Red Riding Hood tale. “How do you think the big, bad wolf charmed his way into the grandmother’s house after ingratiating himself with Little Red?”

“I don’t see you as prey,” he said in the hopes of assuring her, even as something within him wanted to counter the statement.

“Of course you do,” she said with a shrug. “I’m an attractive woman all alone with you.” Wetting her lips (which absolutely did not have his pulse rate ticking up and his uniform trousers tightening), she swallowed and cleared her throat before adding, “Some part of you is provoked by that and your new wesen side, being severely heightened, became overly stimulated by it. Hence the inappropriate proposition.”

“I swear you have nothing to fear from me, lass,” Killian vowed. “You’ve done me a great service and the last thing I would ever wish to do is--”

“I know,” she assured him. “I told you. It’s okay.”

Killian exhaled a shaky breath and a thought occurred to him. “Why are you so keen to help me? Not that I’m not grateful. It’s just… you don’t even know me.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” she said. “I know, being a cop, that you're a man who likely just wants to help people and that you were just out there trying to do your job.” Her demeanor, which up to this point had been a mixture of confidence, toughness, and candor with an undercurrent of compassion, shifted to one of vulnerability. “Also,” she began in a quiet voice. “The truth is… I’m not a natural wesen either. I’m a gemacht, a made wesen. I’m not… I’m not entirely accepted by others of my kind. By the covens. So I guess…”

“You have an understanding of what I’m going through and what I’ll face.”

Straightening her shoulders, her resilient bearing returned. “No one should have to go through this alone,” she told him while opening a drawer and taking out a small card and pen. “So, take this,” she said, handing him the card after she’d jotted something down. “It’s my business card for the shop, with my personal number on the back. Feel free to call or come by any time.”

Killian took the card from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers which sent a ripple up both their arms. He ignored the physical proof of their mutual attraction, just as he had been ignoring the growing chemistry during their entire encounter, and focused his attention on the card.

Swan Spice and Tea

Emma Swan, proprietor

“Thank you, Swan,” he said, tucking the card into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch about that tonic and we can make a plan for the next full moon.”

“That sounds good, Officer Jones.”

Killian cocked his head quizzically to one side, prompting her to nod towards his uniform.

“It’s on your name badge,” she reminded him. “K. Jones?”

“Right,” he said, reaching up and sheepishly pawing at a patch of skin behind his ear before extending his hand towards her. “Killian Jones. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan.”

“Likewise,” she said, placing her hand in his and offering him a soft smile.

They stood there for the span of a few erratic beats of his heart, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not pull her into his arms. She was stunning, with her creamy skin and golden tresses. Even in the low light he could make out the splashes of freckles across her nose and shimmer of gold flecks in her captivating green eyes. Although smaller in stature, there was nothing weak or feeble about her form, even in the softest places. A form he found rather alluring, from the shape of her curves to the swell of her breasts. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders. The way her breath hitched when he skimmed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist. The way she wet her plump, pink lips with a soft swipe of her tongue.

The way her skin glowed with an ethereal light that suddenly turned blinding.

“Bloody hell!” Killian cursed, wrenching his hand from hers so he could cover his eyes.

“Sorry,” she said with a note of contrition. “But you were… doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he huffed against the irritation spiking through him. Blinking hard, it took a few seconds for his vision to focus. When his sight finally adjusted, he found her several steps away with an amused smirk playing at her lips.

“Eyeing me as though you’d like to make a meal out of me,” she said matter-of-factly, yet without any hint of admonishment or fear.

Killian cursed under his breath. He’d developed something of a reputation in college: lady’s man, player, rake, charming bastard, scoundrel. In the years that followed, he’d done his best to put his womanizing ways behind him, choosing instead to use his looks and natural charm to his advantage as a cop when it came to comforting victims or disarming perps. So, while his current behavior was something out of character to who he had fought to become, he was certainly no stranger to this emerging personality the newly bred wesen side of him was cultivating.

“It’ll get easier to control,” she assured him. “Remember, these traits will be strongest during the full moon, and just as the paste is helping to lessen them now, the tonic should help you keep a rein on things going forward.” Closing the book, she skimmed her fingers over the cover and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before glancing over at him once more and suggesting, “Although, it might be a good idea, as much as you are capable, to limit your contact with people during that time. I don’t know how feasible it would be for you to take those days off from work, but avoiding high stress, high confrontational situations would probably be a good idea until you’re better equipped to--”

“Aye,” he said in agreement, running his hand through his hair again. “A wise suggestion.”

He shuddered at the thought of losing control of himself at work, surrounded by his fellow officers. His fellow armed officers.

The desire to make detective was now about so much more than his own personal pride and sense of accomplishment. As a detective, he’d have greater say over his schedule. Until then, he may have to slack off on his paperwork and use the days of the full moon to isolate himself in one of the private offices in order to “catch up” on his reports.

“I’m sure I can work something out,” he told her.

“Fortunately,” she said, jutting her chin towards the window and the soft, pre-dawn glow that was beginning to creep through the gap in the curtains. “This was the last night of this full moon cycle, so you should be okay once the sun is up.”

Killian’s heart thudded hard in his rib cage and panic swept through his bloodstream. “Bloody hell! What time is it?” he frantically patted his pockets in search of his phone. How long had he been gone? Who knew he was missing? He had to get back to the woods. His cruiser was still there. At the crime scene.

The crime scene.

The body of the hiker.

The blutbad who’d attacked him was a killer.

He needed to find him and--

“Whoa! Slow down,” Swan urged, grabbing onto his forearms and giving him a slight shake. “Your phone is on the table next to the cot. I don’t think anyone is aware of anything being wrong. You have no missed calls or texts.”

Killian balked. Had he said all of that out loud?

Releasing him, she grabbed his phone from where it had been laying and along with it, his keys. “Your cruiser is in the alley out back,” she told him, gesturing towards the backdoor at the far end of the room.

“You… You drove it here?”

A sheepish expression scrunched through her features as she confessed, “Actually. My brother did. It took some convincing, but he finally agreed to go get it after I got you back here.”

“Your brother? You’ve a… is he… is he wesen also?”

“He is,” she confided. “He’s a leschen.”

Killian’s ignorance must have been apparent in the pull of his brows and tilt of his head.

“They’re sort of… tree-like, wooden wesen.”

“And he took some convincing because…?”

“Because you’re a cop,” she confessed. “He’s been on the wrong side of the law a few times. Nothing violent,” she added quickly. “Just… maybe do me a favor and don’t have your car fingerprinted?”

“I suppose,” he conceded, “Given the circumstances. I can overlook your brother’s involvement in this evening's events.”

“I appreciate that,” she said on a relieved breath and with a soft, weary smile.

The side of him he was beginning to identify as the wolf caused him to feel torn about leaving. The longing he felt to stay, the primal, proprietary drive that kept creeping up within him as he remained in her presence was one he could now discern, and though not quite as overwhelming as it had been before, was still very much present.

“I should go,” he choked out with conviction, subduing the beast. “It’s late. Or rather… early?”

“Right,” Swan replied, wetting her lips and guiding him towards the back door. “We’ve both had a long night and could definitely use some rest.”

For the first time since he awoke in her spice shop, Killian was struck with curiosity as to what she had been doing in the woods when he’d stumbled upon her. It was clear from the way she swung open the door, revealing his cruiser parked in the alleyway, and issuing her farewells with a stifled yawn that it would be a question he’d have to leave for another time.

“Remember,” she called out before he could slip behind the wheel. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“Aye, Swan. Thanks. Thank you for everything,” he replied with a deep, rich sincerity in his tone. “I’ll be in touch.”

“See you at the next full moon?”

“Aye,” he promised. “See you at the next full moon.”

Chapter One - Coming Soon!