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terreisa · 6 years

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The Savior and The Scoundrel: Should I Stay or Should I Go

Emma has had a few titles attributed to her in her life: princess, captain, pirate but none sat so heavily on her shoulders as Savior. When fate forces her to step into the role prophesied before her birth the only saving she wants to do is to bring back the man she loves. Fulfilling the Prophecy along the way is an additional reward. Sequel to A Crown and A Captain.

Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13

ff.net, AO3

“I don’t see why I can’t just go ashore by myself! You said we don’t have to worry about Zelena anymore, right?”

“Just because we don’t have to worry about her doesn’t mean there aren’t hundreds of other ways to get into trouble. Especially when you have no clue how anything in this land works.”

Emma watched Marty and Turner argue with little interest. She didn’t have much interest in anything at all but she was trying to put on a good show for everyone else. They were treating her as though she were moments away from a breakdown but she only felt numb. It was easier to act as though her world hadn’t imploded with a false smile than staring blankly out at the water waiting for another pointless day to end.

Nearly a week had passed and it was the first time she had emerged above deck since the day Zelena had told her the awful truth about the curse. Emma had stayed holed up in her quarters for the first few days, only emerging to give Turner the order to sail the Jewel into the town’s harbor. There had been a small snowstorm not long after she’d given the order and she tried not to think of it as a sign of some sort. The next day they had moored the Jewel in an empty berth with little fanfare. She’d forced herself to remain below deck in order to resist the temptation of going to Killian to explain everything. It was also an attempt to keep herself from returning to Gold’s shop to try and see if she could discern if he was truly a heartless Dark One or not.

It was currently the morning of their second day anchored in the harbor and she had reluctantly emerged on deck when she had heard raised voices. Discovering that Marty was simply having another fit about having to stay on board had irked her at first, mostly because she had been forced to leave the confines of the lower decks. She was about to escape back down into her quarters when she heard someone shouting for permission to come aboard.

Exchanging a shocked look with both Marty and Turner she quickly walked to look over the port side rail to the docks below. She did nothing to hide her frown when she saw that it was Walsh standing there.

“Ah, good to see you Miss White!” He called up to her with an insincere grin. “I’d like to speak to the, uh, captain of this boat.”

“It’s a ship and you are,” she said back, leaning her hip against the rail and crossing her arms. “What can I do for you Sheriff?”

“Can I come up? I’d prefer not to keep shouting at you, especially with the matter we need to discuss-” he said, his grin mellowing into a stern look.

She gave him a terse nod and his grin bloomed again as he began to climb the gangplank. As much as she didn’t want him on her ship she was even less willing to step off the Jewel herself. Moments before his head appeared over the rail she heard the sounds of others emerging from below. With a sigh of frustration she turned to find that everyone was grouped below the helm, watching Walsh step on deck. She heard his surprised intake of breath and rolled her eyes before turning back to address him.

“Welcome aboard the Jewel, Sheriff,” she drawled, lazily waving her arm to present the ship. She then waved over her shoulder, “This is my crew.”

“Ah-” Walsh’s eyes roamed over the deck and those at her back, wide and with seemingly reluctant respect. “Can we, uh, maybe go somewhere a bit more private?”

“I’m going to have to say no. The last time I had a private conversation with you you threatened me before forcing me to choose between saving my own hide or Jones’,” she said with a raised brow. “I think wanting a few others hear what you have to say to me is understandable.”

Walsh bristled, his jaw ticking and his hands clenching into fists at his side. There was a low chuckle behind her that she believed was Roland but didn’t want to look to be sure. They still weren’t on the best of terms even in light of recent revelations. That he was showing his support of her, in the smallest of possible ways, had her squaring her shoulders, ready to square off against Walsh as long as was needed.

“I received a call this morning from the harbormaster,” Walsh grit out. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes lit up with malicious glee, “He reported that a boat, oh sorry, ship had docked without permission or payment. Thought I might take a gander and lo and behold it’s something that belongs in a museum and it’s supposedly yours. Am I to believe you sailed this here? I mean, you did say that Jones had picked you up in Portland, right?”

“She is mine and of course I sailed her here,” Emma spat back, incensed at his condescending tone. “Since you can’t even seem to believe that much can you blame me for telling you something your small mind would find easier to understand?”

“Watch your tone Miss White!” Walsh snapped. “You wouldn’t want to go back to the station in cuffs now would you?”

“I’d like to see you try,” she said with a smirk, resting her hand on her hip, a finger width away from the hilt of her sword.

“Now now, that could be seen as threatening an officer,” he rebuked with a disapproving click of his tongue. He placed his hands on his own hips, revealing a leather harness with what appeared to be a small black firearm holstered in it, “We don’t want things to get messy here. How about you come back to the station with me and we can sort this all out like civilized folks.”

“Wouldn’t she take it up with the harbormaster?” Regina asked, the sneer evident in her voice.

“If I wanted your input Ms. Mills I would have asked for it. Come along Miss White.”

“I thought I told you to leave them alone.”

“Madam Mayor!”

Walsh spun around so fast that Emma wondered if he had been trained to do so at the sound of Zelena’s voice. For her part she merely rolled her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath as the woman appeared over the rail. She gazed longingly at the hatch leading down to her quarters, resigning herself to dealing with the two people in the whole town she wanted to interact with the least.

“I never gave you permission to board,” Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“As if you wouldn’t make me wait a god awful amount of time for it,” Zelena scoffed. She looked at Walsh, “Baum isn’t there a jaywalker you need to scold or some school children that need to be scared straight?”

“Er, no but there was a complaint-”

“Miss White and her… companions have brought their ship here at my request for the Founder’s Day festivities. Which is why I’m here-” Zelena gave her a wide, beaming smile. “I believe we had an appointment?”

“Madam Mayor-”

Zelena’s eyes slid to Walsh and when she spoke it was with a quiet fury, “I believe I told you to go.”

Emma couldn’t see his face but from the way his shoulders stiffened she knew he wasn’t taking kindly to the order. She half expected him to argue further with the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Instead he threw her a disdainful look over his shoulder and stormed off the ship, seemingly murmuring to himself the entire way.

“Ever since you showed up he’s started getting a mind of his own,” Zelena sighed. She frowned as her eyes scanned the deck, “I thought you’d have a… better crew put together. Then again the one you had before was hardly a good effort so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Tell me what you’re doing here, now, or you can get the hell off my ship,” Emma snapped.

“Not out here where practically everyone within earshot can hear us. Especially when there is more than one person in this town who shouldn’t hear what I have to say,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes.

Emma could practically feel the others tensing behind her, ready to argue over one thing or another. Not wanting Walsh to turn back or attract the attention of any passerby she threw a glare over her shoulder at her unhappy crew. She turned back to Zelena and indicated the hatch leading down to the lower decks.

“After you.”

With a look of disgust curling her lip Zelena climbed down into the ship. Emma went to follow and saw disappointment looking back at her from nearly everyone else. In a bizarre twist Regina was the only one who wasn’t. Instead she was looking down into the bowels of the ship with a mixture of awe and disgust. As she stepped down into the dim bowels of the ship Emma could only hope that someone wouldn’t end up with some kind of injury before too long.

They ended up settling in the galley. She’d had a passing thought of leading Zelena into her cabin but it was too personal and with the way the others had followed her it wasn’t large enough to hold them all. As it was they had to cram themselves around the table with Roland and Turner forced to stand back by the doorway as there weren’t enough chairs. Zelena scowled at her but Emma merely scowled back and settled back in her chair.

“Alright, we’re here where no one can hear us. What do you want?”

“Did you have to allow the peanut gallery to join us?” Zelena sniffed, obviously annoyed at the company.

“It’s either that or I escort you off the ship,” Roland growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If I had my magic I’d turn you into one of my monkeys just to watch you dance.”

“Stop threatening my crew or I’ll help him throw you overboard,” Emma said, glaring at Zelena and trying not to smile at the thought of tossing her into the freezing harbor. “I’m not going to ask again: Why are you here?”

“This is the first time you’ve deigned to show your face in week-” Zelena glared back, “and I need reassurance that you won’t be breaking the curse. There’s a lot at stake here.”

“Why should we even trust you? How do we know you’re not lying just to keep this warped reality you reign over in tact?” Regina snarled.

“Please, you think I warned you out of the kindness of my heart? Who do you think that beast will kill first if the curse is broken? I'm merely trying to save my own neck and if that means aligning myself with you then so be it,” Zelena huffed, looking as though she had just swallowed a lemon.

“Why his heart? Why any of this for that matter?” Regina asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’d already beaten me, I was at your mercy and you had everything. You didn’t need to cast the curse.”

“Of course I did,” Zelena spat out. “He didn’t think I would do it for all the reasons you stated and more. I had to prove him wrong, show him that he had underestimated me, again. And I didn’t have everything, your face did. I had to fix that as well.”

“Unbelievable,” Regina scoffed. “I knew you were the jealous type but I had no idea you were this insane. When the Savior breaks the curse I’m going to enjoy watching him snap your neck.”

“She’s not going to break the curse,” Zelena said confidently. She smirked at Emma, “Not when she’s of the same ilk as her hero parents.”

“If we-” Emma hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “If we don’t break the curse then the people here will be miserable for the rest of their lives. They won’t ever remember who they were- are. They won’t know that they’re missing pieces of themselves, that there are people they lo-love that they think are nothing but another face they walk by day after day. Or worse they won’t know them at all. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, princess, anyone who tells you different it just selling something,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes. “You break the curse the darkest of Dark Ones wreaks havoc on every realm he can get his scaly carcass to. You don’t and people live blissfully ignorant lives where they don’t even know what the hell they’re missing anyway. I believe that should simplify your choice.”

“For someone without morals perhaps,” Grace murmured from her seat at the corner of the table.

“We can argue this round and round until we’re blue in the face but eventually you’ll have to decide,” Zelena said, pointedly glaring at Grace.

“I need more time-”

“You’ve already had a week!” Zelena growled.

“And I’ve spent over a year believing I was coming here to break the curse!” Emma snapped back, flames of anger licking up her spine. “I scoured our land for any clue as to what you did, where you could have sent everyone, and when I found something to lead me here I had to find a way to actually cross realms. For every second of every day since you cast the curse and up until this very moment I’ve had a prophecy hanging over my head, declaring me as a savior because for some reason I’m the one fated to break it. Then you come along and tell me in no uncertain terms that I can’t because you made a mistake that could cost us everything if I do. So forgive me if I need a little more fucking time to figure out what choice I’ll be able to live with.”

She was breathing hard, as though she’d just crossed blades with Zelena instead of words. Her hands were shaking violently but they were in her lap, hidden from most everyone’s view under the table. All eyes were on her, mostly in surprise at her outburst but she could see concern among them too. Keeping her focus on Zelena she was pleased to see that the woman was finally looking at her with a small measure of respect.

“Fine, whatever the princess wants I suppose,” Zelena said begrudgingly. Then after a pause she said, “There is, however, another matter we need to discuss.”

“What else do we need to talk about? I’m pretty sure I have nothing left to say to you,” Emma said, her voice somewhat hoarse.

“Then just listen,” Zelena said with a tinge of frustration. “There’s something I need you to get for me, something that we’ll need if you make the stupid decision to break the curse-”

“Alright, you need to go now,” Emma said shortly, the barely tamped down anger rising again.

“You’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Zelena protested.

“I said go,” Emma growled, pointing a still trembling finger at the door.

“Fine,” Zelena huffed. She stood and held her head high, as though it was her decision to leave, “You should know that I wasn’t kidding about your motley crew participating in Founder’s Day. Festivities start at ten and I expect you to put on a good show. If you refuse I’ll give Walsh plenty of reasons to scour this boat from warped mast to mealy biscuit.”

Zelena pushed past Roland and Turner, leaving Emma gaping at her back as she left. She turned to Regina.

“What is she talking about?”

“It’s this ridiculous festival that everyone remembers happening every year because of the curse but no one’s actually been to,” Regina said, still gaping at the empty doorway. “It’s supposed to celebrate the founding of this stupid town with booths selling cheap homemade knick-knacks and historically inaccurate reenactments throughout the town. Someone always gets arrested for getting too drunk off the spiked cider and it ends when Zelena’s trumped up speech about harmony and prosperity in the town gets interrupted by one thing or another. Last year it we had a two for one when Jones drunkenly accused her once again of killing his brother. It took both Walsh and Archer to successfully drag him off the stage.”

“But that didn’t actually happen, right?” Emma questioned as Regina’s eyes snapped to hers in surprise. “You said this festival is just a false memory but you’re talking about it like it actually happened.”

“It… no… I remember-” Regina’s eyes had clouded over and her fingers were nervously tapping on the table. After a few seconds she blinked rapidly as her eyes cleared, “No, you’re right, it’s never happened. The cursed memories are stronger if they’re ones I haven’t been constantly trying to keep straight. You’ll probably have to give tours of the ship or at the very least come up with some lie about how a ship like this brought over the original settlers.”

“You mean make a mockery of us?” Turner said with distaste. “There’s a reason this ship is named the Jewel of the Realm. It’s not some mere pleasure vessel for entertaining the masses.”

“Newsflash, Blast from the Past, but ships like this are nothing but novelties in this realm,” Regina said testily. “Walsh already thinks there’s something going on here and we don’t need Gold getting any kind of idea what this ship and all of you really are. If Zelena said you’re going to be part of Founder’s Day she’s already told at least thirty people and each one of them have told thirty more. By Saturday you’ll have a crowd of people clamoring to get on board. There’s no choice here, it’s going to happen.”

“Is she doing this to torture us even more?” Roland asked in disbelief.

“Probably,” Regina said with a shrug. “She knows she has the upper hand for now. If Emma doesn’t break the curse we’ll have to play by her rules.”

“And if she does then we’re sentencing everyone to the whims of an untempered Dark One who we have no idea what he will do,” Grace sighed.

“What if we kill him first and then break the curse?” Marty piped up, clearly eager to be included.

“How might I ask?” Roland asked with a raised brow. “According to that witch the man is dead already. Our only hope would be the Dark One’s dagger but seeing as no one had seen hide nor hair of it while he was imprisoned I doubt we’d find it here.”

“Even if we did whoever killed him would become the Dark One,” Emma said with a bitter smile. She stood, her legs barely able to hold her up, “Although, it’s not the worst option on the table. I’d even volunteer to do it myself.”

The collective gasps were seemingly still echoing in the galley as she sped out, almost tripping over Turner’s feet in her haste to get away. Grace called after her but she kept moving forward. Finally she made it to her cabin, slamming the door behind her as her breath came in quick pants. The emotions she had pushed down had suddenly burst, pouring over her like a bottle of ale that had been shaken too vigorously.

Sliding to the floor she tried to reign everything back in but it was hopeless. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she gasped for air. Black spots erupted in her vision as the horrible choice Zelena had forced on her swirled in her head. Dropping her forehead to her knees she scrabbled for Killian’s ring, grasping it like a lifeline as she waited for the overwhelming feelings to subside.

Eventually her breathing evened out and she could hear the normal sounds of the ship over the pounding of blood in her ears. When she felt confident enough to stand she made her way to the table where only two things were resting upon it: her journal with her letters to Killian and the second of the two magic beans she’d found in Blackbeard’s hat. Sitting at the table she resumed staring at the two items, as she had been doing for nearly three days straight as she tried to decide what to do.

The sound of Roland’s voice broke through her musings.

“Planning on running away from it all then, are you?”

“The door was closed for a reason,” she answered without looking up, gently spinning the bean with her finger.

“I came to check up on you since you’ve been holed up in here for two hours.”

Emma glanced around and was surprised to see that her quarters were mostly in shadow from the afternoon sun. Roland was watching her warily and she sighed, turning her gaze back to the bean.

“Come to argue with me some more? Or are you here to try and convince me one way or the other about what I should do? Either way I’m not in the mood.”

“How about a drink instead?”

Looking up with a raised brow to see him produce a bottle of the darkest rum she’d ever seen and two pewter mugs from behind his back. With a shrug she nodded at the chair across the table from her as she sat back in hers. Uncorking the bottle with his teeth he poured out a generous measure of rum for the both of them, gently placing one of the mugs in front of her and then the bottle in the middle of the table before sitting down.

She picked up the mug and held it up for a toast, “To the lucky bastards living under the curse. At least they can sleep peacefully at night.”

“I don’t want to drink to that,” Roland said with a frown.

“Then don’t,” she said indifferently, downing her rum in one swallow. Shuddering slightly she poured herself another round, scowling at Roland as she did, “Where the hell did you get this from?”

“I, er, knicked it from Daniel’s cabin-” the tips of his ears began to turn pink and he quickly took a sip of his rum, coughing harshly after he swallowed.

“Daniel?” Emma repeated, confused until Roland flushed deeper and his eyes skittered away from hers. “Oh, is that Turner’s first name? Add that to the list of things I didn’t know. Although it does go to show that you’ve been so pissed at me that you decided to hide whatever it is you two are now.”

“Emma, it’s not like that,” Roland said, even as he still avoided looking at her.

“No?” She asked, scoffing in disbelief. She took another drink of her rum and uncurled a finger from her mug to point at him, “So if I were to ask Turner why neither of you said anything he won’t tell me that you asked him to?”

“He will, but not for the reason you think,” he said, finally looking at her. “I didn’t want to flaunt it in your face that we’re together when you can’t be with Killian the same way. It’s not fair that we found happiness when you’ve been given nothing but misery.”

“But you’re mad at me!” Emma blurted out, her hand dropping to the table causing some of the rum to splash over the sides of her mug.

“Not anymore. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders,” Roland said with a shrug and a pained smile. The blush returned to his cheeks, “Daniel might have also pointed out that I wasn’t being fair or helpful by constantly badgering you about the curse when I’m not doing anything to actually help you break it.”

“If I decide to break it, you mean,” she pointed out.

With a less than steady hand she brought her cup back to her lips, downing the lot. Roland followed suit, coughing again as he reached for the bottle. He poured more into both of their mugs, lightly tapping the rims together when he picked his up.

“So is this your plan then?” He asked, looking pointedly at the bean in front of them.

“To run?” She nudged the bean with the bottom of her mug, “Not in the way you’re thinking and I don’t even know if I can bring myself to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll think I’m cruel.”

“I could tell you at least fifty different thoughts I’ve had that would have you thinking the same of me,” Roland said with a raised brow, sipping at his rum and only grimacing as he swallowed. “I promise not to judge.”

“I keep going back to two options, other than the ones Zelena forced on me. One: we somehow convince our family and friends to come on the ship-” Emma gripped her mug tightly. She wanted to slam the rum back as quickly as she had with the other two but knew she was well on her way to tipsy and she needed to have some of her wits about her as she finally told someone the thoughts that had plagued her. “We could use the bean to take us back home and we break the curse on them there.”

“Leaving the Dark one here, still cursed and somewhat safe,” Roland said with a nod, showing no sign of shock at her suggestion. “I take it Zelena would be left behind as well but so would-”

“So would scores of other innocent people,” Emma sighed, finally taking a sip. “Even if we could convince even half the people we want to save to board the Jewel can’t hold them all. Who are we to decide who gets to stay and who gets to go? And if we do how can we be sure the curse will break for those we take? Or if it does what if it somehow still breaks over here and the Dark One is freed anyway?”

“All valid questions,” Roland hummed, tapping his mug with a finger. “And the second option?”

“We use the bean to send Gold to a different realm. But then that brings up a whole different set of problems. What if he ends up somewhere that has magic? What if going through the portal somehow wakes him up? And again, if we break the curse here maybe it breaks it on him wherever we send him and he happens to be somewhere with magic. It’s even riskier than just breaking the curse here where we already know there’s no magic. At least that will stall him for a little bit-” Emma took a deep breath before continuing softly, “I’ve been going round in circles trying to figure out what to do.”

“I can see that,” Roland chuckled. “Did Marty’s suggestion ever occur to you?”

“To kill Gold and hope for the best? For about a minute in the dead of night until I realized that it was the worst option of all and I stayed awake until dawn because of it.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“When I’m not worrying about what to do,” she sighed.

“So… that would be not a wink,” he huffed.

“You and Turner? Exactly how long have you been spending time in his cabin?” Emma asked in a clear attempt at changing the subject.

Roland rolled his eyes but once again his blush belied him.

He took a small sip of his rum before mumbling into his mug, “Since the night after I ran into my father and Regina came on board.”

“Decided you needed to free up a bunk in the hold or was it you just couldn’t stand her that much?” Emma snorted. She raised her mug, “How’s this for a toast? To being with the one you want in order to get away from one of the bitches that ruined your life.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything-” he gave a put upon sigh even as his lips were twitching and he raised his own mug. “Too bad Killian isn’t here with us. He’d gladly toast to that.”

They both drank their rum but Emma had to fight to keep it down. In the few moments where she wasn’t overwhelmed by the momentous decision she had to make she had nearly driven herself mad trying to figure out what she could possibly say to Killian. It was because of her desire to tell him everything and whisk them away to safety that she had first thought of the bean. Then her sense of obligation to her kingdom’s people and the guilt of even considering leaving them behind in favor of those closest to her had begun to trickle in and her thoughts had spiralled on and on from there.

There was one other option that she hated herself for even thinking and couldn’t bring herself to tell Roland even if he had thought it had been her plan for the bean. The worst part was that it was the most sensible and feasible of anything she had come up with but it was by far the most terrible of them all. They could simply weigh anchor and leave with only themselves on board, return to Misthaven with broken hearts but safer for it. She once more shoved the thought of it away, too painful to consider for more than a moment, and drained her mug for the third time.

“I get it, you know,” Roland said quietly. She gave him a puzzled look as he dropped his gaze to the rum he was swirling in his mug, “Why you’re having all these doubts and can’t bring yourself truly decide what to do. I didn’t at first, which is part of the reason I was so mad at you, but now I do.”

“So why? Why can’t I just choose and be done with it?” She whispered, not entirely sure of the reason herself.

“Killian,” he said with a matter of fact shrug. “He’s falling in love with you again-”

“You don’t know that,” she interrupted quickly, realizing she didn’t want to know why after all.

“True, but Daniel does.”

“What? How?”

Roland gave her an unimpressed look, “You sent Killian to find him right after taking off with that loathsome Walsh guy, did you expect them not to talk?”

“Well, no, but they’re strangers without his memories and they weren’t together that long,” she argued.

“You forget Daniel’s known Killian a lot longer than either one of us has. I guess even without his memories he’s behaving exactly the same as when he fell for someone back when he was younger,” he said with a sad smile.

“He told you about that? He wouldn’t say anything about her to me.”

Emma dropped her gaze, trying not to feel betrayed that Turner had told Roland about Jaqueline when he had all but refused to tell her. She knew it was because they were something more, that they were together, but it still stung all the same.

“He didn’t tell me anything either, not really-” Roland tapped his mug on the table to catch her attention. She looked up and he gave her a knowing look, “No need to be jealous, he just told me that he’s seen the way Killian is when he’s falling in love but it was different this time.”

“Why, because he’s already married and my being here has him feeling confused and guilty?” She drawled sarcastically, eyeing the bottle of rum.

“No-” Roland huffed, grabbing the bottle and pouring her a pitiful amount, “because you love him too and you’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy even if it makes you miserable. Which is why you can’t decide what to do about the mess we’re in. He’s unhappy and apparently vilified under the curse but he’s safe and if it breaks then he gets you and his rightful life back but then Dark One could just destroy it all with the snap of his fingers.

“And don’t tell me it’s the same argument you’ve been having with yourself concerning your father or Red or anyone else stuck in this town because it’s not. I may not have exactly what you do with Killian and it’s only been a few weeks but I know if it was Daniel I’d be right where you are now. Except I’d have probably broken out the rum a lot sooner.”

“Who says I haven’t,” she murmured. She looked up at him, doing nothing to keep her emotions from showing and was unsurprised that tears began to form, “What should I do?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his own eyes glassy. “I’m sorry Emma, but I don’t think this is something we can help you with.”

“Because I’m the Savior?” She asked with a warbling voice.

“Yeah,” Roland answered, looking as though he wished he was telling her the opposite.

Emma cleared her throat and gave him a shaky smile, “I hate that prophecy more and more by the way.”

“I'm sorry I was ever enthusiastic about it,” Roland said with a grimace.

“It's not like you knew what was going to happen,” she pointed out. “Can we just drink and talk about something else? Anything else, please?”

“Sure,” he said easily, pouring the rum until it was almost to the rim of her mug. “What about that Founder’s thing?”

“Ugh, not that either. How about being raised by the Merry Men? It has to be almost as interesting as faking my way into being a feared pirate captain.”

Roland laughed and launched into a story about being left in the care of Will Scarlet and Little John and escaping them both. Emma tried to keep her attention on the tale but her thoughts began to run away from her from everything her and Roland had discussed. She only hoped that the rum swirling through her veins would slow them down enough to finally get some rest, if not peace along with it.

It took nearly until the morning of the festival, two days later, for Emma’s hangover from her talk with Roland to dissipate completely. It wasn’t helped by the hoards of curious onlookers that circled the docks, shouting questions at her while she had a pounding headache, regarding their participation in the festival. With the crew’s reservations and her urge to not bow to Zelena’s whims Emma had nearly ordered them to return to the cove almost three times. The only thing that held her tongue was Regina’s suggestion that they require people to pay to board the Jewel during the festival, something that she assured her would irritate Zelena to no end.

Despite having only just gotten over her night of excess with Roland she nonetheless found herself eyeing the cabinet where she kept her liquor as she dressed for the day. With a sigh she focused back on fastening her vest correctly and trying to remember the story they would be telling the people who would be crawling across the Jewel’s deck like rats before she knew it. Regina had tried to convince her to say the ship was an integral part in the founding of the town but Emma had scoffed at that and stated that she was a pirate captain and that was exactly what the people would get. She hadn’t even bothered to hide her smile at Regina’s frustration and Turner’s distaste at her declaration.

The only somewhat good that was resulting from the festival was that between it and her recovery she hadn’t dwelled as much as she had previously on the decision she still had to make. In the few moments her thoughts would stray Roland would suddenly be at her side commiserating in their shared misery or Turner would be consulting her about the level of the stores in the hold and the state of the ship. She had appreciated their concern but no matter how hard they tried to distract her during the day the nights were consumed by nightmares of Killian blaming her for the decision she had yet to make.

“Emma, are you ready? There are already dozens of people waiting to board and they’ve been pacing the dock since daybreak it seems.”

Emma shook her head at the annoyance she could clearly hear in Roland's voice but couldn't blame him. There in fact had been people queuing up since nearly dawn that morning, when she had tried to escape from her nightmares above deck. She had watched them from the shadows near the helm figuring they were as good a distraction as any. Then she had thought she had seen that Killian was among them but when she had rushed to the rail to invite him on board early it had been a stranger looking back up at her.

As she crossed to the door she strapped on her sword, almost hoping that Zelena would see it and remember the promise she had made back at the jailhouse. When Roland caught sight of it at her hip he merely rolled his eyes and stepped out of her way. She elected not to comment on the hilt of a dagger she had seen poking out of the top of his boot.

“I still can't believe there are people actually willing to pay us just to step on board and not actually go anywhere,” Roland scoffed from behind her. “This realm is so strange.”

“Is Turner still determined to stand guard over the hold?” She asked as she reached the ladder leading up to the deck.

Roland snorted, “He's still upset that we knicked his good rum and he trusts those strangers much less than he does us.”

“Excuse me, who stole his rum?” She asked, turning to glare at him.

“You as good as stole it-” Roland shot back with a grin, “I would have never believed someone as tiny as you could drink that much!”

He deftly dodged her half-hearted swing at his arm, laughing at her scowl. When she turned to climb up to the deck she let her smile unfurl. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him while he had been angry at her until he no longer was.

When she stepped on deck she wasn't surprised to see the others looking at her with a range of emotions. Regina was by the starboard rail, the scowl twisting her features deepening as the voices of the crowd swelled from the dock at the port side. Grace was at the helm looking apprehensively between her and Marty, who was bouncing excitedly on his toes by the foremast. Roland stepped up beside her and gave an interested hum.

“Is it too late to say I don't think we should do this anymore?” Emma sighed.

Roland snorted, “I believe that ship has sailed, Captain.”

“Not funny,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She looked at Regina, “I guess it's time.”

“I still don't know why I was roped into helping you with this,” Regina huffed, stalking across the deck towards the gangplank.

“Because you're the only one who knows how to handle the coin of this realm,” Emma said with only a hint of the annoyance she was feeling. “And it's not like you have anywhere else to be.”

“Besides-” Roland chimed in, “you’re the one who insisted we go through with this charade, it's only fitting you should suffer along with us. Even if you did refuse to dress the part.”

“I won't debase myself by putting on those rags you found in the hold,” Regina sniffed haughtily.

“They're better than the ones we found you in,” Emma said under her breath causing Roland to snort in amusement beside her. With a smirk she said louder, “Just go so we can get this over with, Regina.”

With one final sneer Regina walked down the gangplank and out of sight. As they heard her address the crowd Emma moved toward the stern of the ship. She returned Grace’s uneasy smile as she took her place at the helm, where she'd have full view of the deck and everyone upon it. Grace stepped back behind her as Roland situated himself directly below her. When the first curious head appeared over the rail Emma took a steadying breath and drew her lips into a welcoming smile.

After a few hours Emma felt as though she had a handle on how to deal with the townspeople, at least the ones she didn’t know. It was only the early afternoon and there had already been a steady stream of familiar faces that had stepped on board. Roland had even gone so far as to slip below deck when Robin had walked up the gangplank. Emma hadn’t been much better when David and Red had shown up within ten minutes of each other, both circling the deck as she had stayed rooted at the bow, barely able to converse with the man who had been asking her questions at the time.

By far the worst moment had been when a group of children had come on board. Their adult minder had told Emma that they were from the local orphanage with some of the older ones along to keep the younger ones in line. Grace had been standing near her and had looked over at the group with a gentle smile that dropped from her face in an instant. She had nearly fainted on the spot and it had taken both Emma and Roland to get her below to the galley, both yelling for Turner to bring them water. After a few harrowing minutes Grace had raspilly whispered that her own missing children had been with the group and though she hadn’t seen them for years she was certain that it had been Jack and Jill among them.

After sending Roland back up to the top deck Emma had stayed with Grace for another hour or so. Finally Grace had regained some of her normal color and insisted that she would be fine. Emma had been reluctant to leave her but her urge to check that everything was still running smoothly had been the final push in getting her to leave Grace’s side. By the time she had emerged on deck the group of children were gone and there had been a whole new set of curious onlookers roaming about the deck.

“I think the whole damned town is going to step foot on the Jewel before the day is over,” Roland grumbled.

Emma grimaced, glad they were somewhat alone by the helm, “We’re something new in a town where apparently time hasn’t moved for over a year. I’d be suspicious if they didn’t.”

She looked over the deck and tried not to catch the eye of Walsh as he moved methodically from stem to steer. He had been on board for nearly a quarter of an hour, inspecting innocuous things like the fastenings for the lines or knocking on the deck with the heel of his shoe. Unsure what exactly he was looking for Emma hadn’t let her gaze stray away from him for too long.

“And are you?” Roland’s voice broke through her concentration on Walsh.

“Am I what?” She asked, turning confused to see him looking at her worriedly.

“Suspicious that Killian hasn’t shown up yet,” he quickly looked towards the gangplank where no one was currently stepping on board. “I thought he would have been one of the first ones here.”

“Me too,” she sighed quietly.

It had been a niggling thought throughout the day, constant and irritating in the back of her mind. Killian had always shown up when she least expected with a smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. She had been waiting anxiously all day for him to sneak up behind her and whisper in her ear about her outfit or the ridiculous farce they were performing but she had been so far left disappointed. Roland bringing it to the forefront of her attention had only succeeded in bringing about her worries as to why Killian had yet to appear.

“Perhaps he’s waiting for the crowds to lessen,” Roland suggested halfheartedly. “Or until the sheriff over there has looked his fill.”

“If it was the crowds Killian would have found a way on board before everyone else and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Walsh or his presence,” Emma huffed, narrowing her eyes as Walsh lightly kicked at the main mast. “Even Pinocchio has stopped by twice and I broke my promise that I’d return to his library.”

“The curse may have made them forget you but everyone still seems to hold on to their devotion to you whether they realize it or not. I didn’t miss the way your father or Red kept looking at you like they already knew you.”

“Robin was almost doing the same-” Emma pointed out gently, “You disappeared too quickly for him to get a good look at you though.”

“Yeah, well I’m not as strong as you,” Roland said with a shrug. “I doubt-”

“Excuse me?”

They both turned to find a woman around their age standing behind them. She had wide, brown eyes and hair to match, though only the ends of it could be seen poking out of her knit cap. Her dress was much the same as the rest of the townsfolk but there was something slightly scandalous about it, her thick coat open to reveal a bright pink shirt that exposed her chest and stomach in equal measure and trousers so tight Emma wondered if she had been sewn into them. She looked between the two of them with slightly suspicious eyes before focusing on Emma alone.

“Are you Eva?”

“Yep,” Emma said with the false cheer she had been talking to the townspeople with all day. “Captain of the beautiful ship you find yourself on.”

“So you’re the one helping to feed my husbands delusions,” she said in an accented voice that was as cold as ice and eyes that were as hard as steel.

“Excuse me?” Emma asked in shock, sharing a puzzled glance with Roland.

“The high and mighty private detective here to solve the murder that our sheriff’s department has been working on for ages-” the woman sneered, planting her hands on her hips, “You think you can just waltz into town and wiggle your nose and just like that you’ve solved it? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been told but I only want to find out the truth, whatever it may be,” Emma said placatingly as she wondered how far talk of her false reason for being in the town had spread.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re set on seducing my husband while you’re at it. You got your claws in him but I won’t allow it, you whore.”

Emma stepped back in surprise at the vitriol in the woman’s voice just as someone rushed up beside her. She was further surprised to see it was Killian instead of Roland as she had thought. He was shaking with anger, his breaths were shallow and his hand was clenching and unclenching in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture.

“That is enough, Deb,” Killian growled.

Emma took another step back, her back pressing against the helm as she realized who the woman was. She somehow felt she should have known it was Deborah, the woman cursed to believe she was married to Killian. Watching Deborah’s face slide from a jealous rage to simpering adoration was almost enough to make her lose what little food she’d eaten that day.

“Oh, hey baby! I didn’t see you,” Deborah crooned, batting her eyelashes. “I thought you’d be down at the Hole like every year.”

“I had more pressing matters,” Killian said shortly with half a glance back at Emma.

“Talking to her?” Deborah’s nose wrinkled as she looked her over from head to toe.

“That’s it,” Emma said sharply, coming out of the daze she’d stumbled into with Deborah’s and Killian’s presence. She stepped around Killian and into Deborah’s space, “You need to leave.”

“What? I paid good money and I have every right to be here!” Deborah shrieked indignantly, her face turning red in anger.

“And we appreciate your patronage,” Roland’s voice rumbled deeply from behind Emma. “You can either go voluntarily or I can escort you. Either way you’re leaving now.”

“You aren’t going to let them treat me like this are you, baby?” Deborah whined, once again changing her demeanor in a split second as she turned to Killian with tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m going to let them treat you however you deserve,” Killian said coldly. He turned his back on her and looked at Emma with no less anger in his gaze, “Can we talk in private?”

“Sure,” she answered, ignoring Deborah’s spluttering and murderous glares. She looked at Roland, “Make sure she’s off the ship and on her way anywhere else. Let Regina know not to let her back on under any circumstances.”

“You can’t do that!”

“She can and she did, Ma’am,” Roland said with a wide grin. “If you’ll follow me then.”

Deborah continued to yell about the way they were treating her but Emma left Roland to deal with it. With a tilt of her head she began to lead the way to the hatch that led straight to her cabin. She paid little attention to the gazes of the townsfolk that were alternating between watching her movements and the scene that Deborah was making. It was, however, hard to brush off Killian’s presence at her back and she could barely get a calming breath in as she descended into her cabin, Killian right on her heels.

Her quarters weren’t fit to receive visitors and she resisted the urge to rush about setting things to rights. Her bunk was a mess of blankets with a multitude of clothing piled on top, all items she had deemed unfit to wear for the crowds along with the boots she had kicked across the room in fits of pique. The table was littered with loose papers, books, her half eaten breakfast, broken quills and ink pots, and in the center of it all was the journal of letters to Killian, open to the last letter she had written late the night before. With blood pounding in her ears and a scorching heat in her cheeks she quickly crossed to the table and slammed it shut not giving a damn if it caused Killian to become curious as to what it was.

Turning back to him Emma realized she shouldn’t have worried. Killian was standing at the base of the ladder, head down, a muscle in his jaw ticking as though he were chewing on something tough. She wondered if he was trying to calm himself after Deborah’s words and the commotion she had caused. Her answer came when he looked up and his ire hadn’t abated. Instead it seemed to be burning hotter.

“Just what was all that, lass?” Killian asked in a low growl.

“Your wife apparently,” she snapped back, immediately rising to the defensive. “I would think you’d at least recognize the woman you yourself said made you miserable.”

“Sod Deb, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he snarled, taking two steps towards her before coming to an abrupt halt. He waved his hand jerkily towards her then up at the ceiling, “That ridiculous show you and those others are putting on today, what is all that?”

“Something appropriate for your town’s ridiculous festival. I would think that much would be obvious,” she drawled as she propped her hip on the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

Killian’s nostrils flared as an angry flush began creeping up his neck, “Don’t get bloody cute with me, lass. This has that bitch’s scent all over it and I want to know what she said to you to that has you jumping through hoops like a trained dog.”

“What the hell is your problem?” She asked angrily. She also felt a sting of hurt that he was attacking her and tried to hide it with a frustrated frown, “This is my ship and what I do on it is none of your business.”

“Your ship?” Killian asked mockingly. “Is it now, Captain Swan?”

Emma’s heart stuttered in her chest. She was still leaning against the desk and glad for it otherwise she would have collapsed to the floor hearing her moniker from out of his mouth.

“Wha- what did you say?”

“I read your bloody book,” he spat.

He fumbled with a satchel at his side that she hadn’t noticed, pulling out the story book she had given to him for safe keeping at Sunset Storybrooke. Emma had nearly forgotten all about it in the aftermath of Zelena’s revelations. She had thought that Killian had given it to Turner who in turn had held onto it while she had kept herself apart from the others. In truth she almost wanted nothing to do with the book that was filled with the memories of happier times. There had been no intention whatsoever of letting Killian read a single word from its pages.

“Yes it’s quite the fantastical tale, what with all those Disney characters coming together in a magical land. Although there were quite a few names I didn’t recognize from any cartoon I’ve ever seen,” he gave a mocking smile as he strode to the table and dropped the book unceremoniously on it, causing Emma to jump to standing in her startlement. There was a vein throbbing in his temple and his voice was deadly calm, “Can’t quite comprehend your fascination with a book of fairy tales, lass. Especially when you tell me it’s real and that I need to keep it safe before getting whisked off by that wanker Baum. Then come to find out you have a tet a tet with the devil herself and suddenly eager to obey her demands? What the hell do you take me for anyway?”

Emma took a deep breath, forcing herself not to fidget as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation.

“It’s complicated-” she started, wincing as his hand clenched into a white knuckled fist. “What I talked to the mayor about, this idiotic show for the town, even that book, it’s all a part of this stupid complicated thing and I just… I can’t tell you what it is right now.”

“You can’t tell me,” Killian scoffed in disbelief. He leaned towards her and growled, “After I read it I was certain you were having a laugh, a cruel joke but still in the realm of possibility. Then I thought it was some kind of allegory or metaphor or what have you. It could have been a front for the real tale at the heart of it because only a nutter would believe that fairy tales were real, but you were so damn adamant that the bloody book be kept safe. Then when I come here to ask you to explain I find you playing pirate and lying to my face.”

“I’m not lying,” she retorted hotly, wondering how she had completely lost control of everything.

“A lie by omission is still a lie, lass,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“And you’ve been so forthcoming with me? Do you know how many people have told me that you’re involved with whatever it is that got your brother killed? Which, by the way, it wasn’t only that hag and her puppets that mentioned it. How idiotic are you to think that that’s the way to prove anything?”

“This isn't some bloody game!” Killian yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This is my life and I’m doing what I have to in order to finally find some peace for both me and my brother. I'm not some do-gooder prince from over the rainbow or some kind of hero out to save the day. I don't need this fanciful bullshit distracting me from finding what I need to take Viridans down. So either get on board and actually help me or go back to wherever the fuck you came from.”

Emma felt as though he had slid a knife between her ribs. She could hardly breathe. Killian had never spoken to her in that way. Ever.

“Get off my ship,” she said through numb lips.

“I- what?”

“I said get off my ship,” she repeated slowly, hand resting involuntarily on the hilt of her sword. “You came here with accusations flying out your mouth and an itch for a fight in your blood but I’m not going to sit back and take the punches as they come. You don’t need my bullshit distracting you? Fine. There’s the door.”

��Oh, no. You can’t just throw me off the ship like that! I deserve some kind of explanation!” He hollered, stepping towards her to tower over her.

“You deserve nothing!” She yelled back, refusing to back down and having to crane her neck to stare him down. “I thought I could trust you. I did trust you and you just threw it back in my face. Funny, having met Deborah I can now see how you two are a perfect match.”

“That’s a low blow, lass,” Killian growled.

“And here I thought you didn’t understand the concept,” she snarled. “Now get the fuck off my ship.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Not until you set some things straight.”

“I believe the captain has given an order,” Roland’s clipped voice sounded from across the cabin. “It would be wise to follow it.”

Killian spun on his heel and Emma could see both Roland and Turner standing inside the doorway. They were both glaring at Killian, Roland somehow seemingly standing taller than he already was and Turner with his sword half out of its sheath. She had never needed someone else to fight her battles but she was grateful all the same that they had appeared before she had said something she’d truly regret.

“Tell Tweedledum and Tweedledee that we’re not done with our little chat yet,” Killian said with disdain as he turned back to look at her. “I have more questions and I'm not leaving until I get some answers.”

“Too fucking bad,” she spat out. She looked around him to the doorway, “Turner see to it that Jones here finds his way back to the dock and let everyone else know they’re welcome to leave as well.”

“Aye, Captain,” Turner said with a nod, sheathing his sword and stepping towards Killian.

“You touch me and I’ll make sure I’m not the only one handed man about town,” Killian snarled, glaring at Turner. He then sneered at her, “This isn’t over, lass.”

Emma kept her face impassive, biting her tongue as Killian waited for one last retort. With a scoff he left making sure to hit both Turner and Roland with his shoulder as he did. Turner gave her an apologetic glance before following him out as Roland walked to her side pulling her into a hug. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed deeply as her arms wrapped around his waist.

“Why is it every time I see him I end up wanting to punch him in the face?” Roland asked conversationally.

“You’re not alone,” she mumbled as she sighed again. “It’s been a passing thought for me nearly the entire time I’ve known him. How’s Grace?”

“Could be better,” Roland said with his own sigh, giving her a quick squeeze before releasing her. “She came back on deck not long after you went below with Killian but she was far away from here. It took hearing you two yelling for her to snap out of it.”

Emma winced, “You could hear us?”

“Why do you think Daniel and I both showed up when we did,” he said with a shrug. He gave a quick glance to the table and the book sitting innocuously on its surface, “So, what are you going to do?”

Looking at the book she felt torn between wanting to burn it and curling up on her bunk with it to find comfort in its pages. She thought back to the devastated look on Grace’s face when she’d revealed that her children had been on the ship, how Roland hadn’t been able to face his father, the indifference in Red and her own father’s eyes, and of course every single interaction with Killian from the moment they’d arrived. Letting out an unsteady breath she knew what her choice was, what she had already decided deep in her heart.

“I’m going to break the curse.”

If you’d like to be tagged so you don’t miss future chapters let me know.

Tagging: @teamhook, @galadriel26

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au ff #cs ff au #ouat au ff #savior and scoundrel #i know it looks like shit on the dash but it's fine everywhere else #i can't figure out how to fix it either and it's driving me nuts

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thegeminisage · 3 years

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Here's something I'd love your take on: I read a meta recently (would link it but I can't remember where, ack) that suggested that Sam is able to forgive John in later seasons because a) he's had the whole "family making unilateral decisions for your own good" thing repeatedly shoved down his throat, and b) whatever John did under this umbrella in their childhoods, Dean has done far worse by that point, and Sam HAS to forgive him so by extension he can't really be mad at John anymore (1/2)

(2/2) As someone who has admittedly only seen bits and pieces of the later seasons, this seems to jive with Sam losing a lot of his characteristic early-seasons anger, letting Dean call the shots almost all the time even when he thinks it's the wrong move, and moments of sympathy for John (contrasted w/Dean's growing resentment, which is so interesting!). But! I got some big ol' gaps in my spn comprehension, so was curious if you had any thoughts on this dynamic

wow okay long answer warning! i got carried away and forgot how to use punctuation. nobody is obligated to read all of this lol and the biggest part of the answer is behind a cut. anyway!!

first things first: i think a big thing to remember with sam’s characterization in later seasons is that it’s like...not there, and when it is there, it’s sometimes flat and inconsistent. because dean became sole the main protagonist after the first 8 (arguably the first 5 or even first 2) seasons, sam sort of got demoted to “side character we don’t know what to do with” along with cas and crowley. they all had good arcs pop up now and then (sam had some fun stuff going on with lucifer in s11 and s13) but most of the time the writers either don’t know how to give him a meaningful characterization or don’t care (or both). so we have to do a lot of that work ourselves.

so, for example, when we talk about sam losing his anger, i like to read it as him OVERCOMING that anger to avoid becoming his father (which may even be where some of the seemingly sympathetic comments come from, because he’s trying to be forgiving instead of angry), but really...it’s that the writers forgot he had anger issues. in-universe explanation vs irl explanation, yk? and i think pretty much all meta about sam in late seasons is written through that lens, whether the writer of that meta knows it or not. including this one! i can’t prove any of this shit, it’s my personal reading, i’m making it up. like there were just SO many different people involved in the production of supernatural that there was a lot of conflict and contradictions in things like continuity and characterization. (most of the writers room hadn’t even seen every episode!) so there’s not one definitive way to go about it. in many ways it makes the characters more nuanced and in many other ways it makes me fucking insane.

as for sam and john and whether or not sam forgives him, i’m actually glad you asked because this has been driving me nuts for a long time and it took me SO LONG to pin it down - sam’s relationship with john is very different to dean’s, and i couldn’t figure out WHY. it’s not that he was “abused less,” it’s not that he loved john less or was less hurt by his actions, so why doesn’t he seem as INVESTED in everything that happened to them as kids? like he says in season 14 he had to learn to let it go and that it was all a lifetime ago for him. meanwhile i think dean still deals with it every day. he’s still stewing in it to some degree 24/7. so like what’s the difference??

i think it comes down to two things. firstly, that while dean didn’t have anybody parenting him except john (and mary, but only for a very short time that he could actually remember), SAM’S parents were john AND DEAN. most of the time dean was the one raising sam, and in fact he arguably did way more parenting of sam than john did. so the person that made dean feel safe and like he could fight back against monsters, the person he was grateful to, was john. but the person who made SAM feel safest was dean. he doesn’t have that same gratitude towards john that dean does and he never will, because of how john made him feel alienated and excluded from their family growing up. dean’s resentment of john is so tangled up in this very deep and unconditional love and gratitude for him that sam just doesn’t have.

secondly, i think dean has a serious case of “i can fix him” re: john that sam doesn’t have and possibly never had. john just never showed sam the same kind of inclusion and warmth and trust that he showed dean (however rarely he showed it, and however fucked up it was). i think sam figured out very very early on that their quest for yellow eyes was either a long shot or straight up impossible, and that they couldn’t waste their entire lives doing it, and that even if the demon died, john was never going to change. dean 100% drank the koolaid - he really truly believed in a world where someday they’d kill the demon and all retire from the life and be normal and be a family again, because that’s what john said and dean took his father’s word as gospel. sam knew better.

so i think what sam did was just disengage. partially because he felt he couldn’t afford to nurse that kind of anger and not become either his father or lucifer, and partially because even though sam loved john, still loves john, he never needed him the way dean did, because sam had dean. so it doesn’t hurt him as much to just “gray rock” it. i think if sam stopped and really dug into it he’d find that he’s still quite angry (probably more angry on dean’s behalf than his own, at least at first, because in his mind he was able to move past it and dean was not, dean had it worse, HIS OWN trauma isn’t real etc etc), but he doesn’t do that because he doesn’t want to be that angry, and possibly even thinks that if he brought it up dean would jump to john’s defense and it would cause a fight, which the opposite of what a gray rock does.

as for being forced to forgive john because if he didn’t he would also have to condemn dean...i don’t think i buy that at all. sam is fine making dean his exception and he allows dean to get away with a lot of deeply horrible shit he would condemn other people for. partially because he’s dean and sam loves him, but in my ~personal reading~ of sam, this is also because once sam became an adult the weight of everything dean did and had to give up to raise him really sank in, and part of him felt guilty (even though sam arguably didn’t have a childhood either). you know how kids take care of their parents in old age to repay them for raising them? that’s sort of how sam is with dean in later seasons - he implies multiple times that he would leave the hunting life forever and not look back if it weren’t for dean.

and as a side note - sorry, this is only tangentially related - dean implies several times in later seasons that the job is where he finds his sense of accomplishment and self-esteem and meaning - he believes the world is a better place because of what he and sam do, and even though he doesn’t always like DOING the job, he likes the outcome. it’s weird because this is as close as we see dean get to even HAVING self esteem. sam, emotionally intelligent, would have picked up on that - and since he and dean have both tried to leave the life multiple times and have always come to regret it, i also think part of sam believes you CAN’T escape - certainly SAM could never escape so long as dean was still in it, because whether he meant to or not dean would always pull him back in. and part of dean doesn’t really want to escape because he’s made his peace with it. so sam stays, and i think even if he can’t find the same meaning in the job that dean does, he finds a lot of meaning in being there for dean. (this, like gray rocking, is also consistent with the seasons where sam’s sole character trait is caring about dean lol. but i’m happy enough to read it in a kinder and less bitter/resentful way.)

it IS worth noting i think that the most forgiving sam ever was about john was in the adam episode, where he said he understood why he was the way he was and why he did what he did, and when dean said they were alike sam decided to take it as a compliment. sam in season 4 is arguably at one of his lowest points - struggling with addiction, consumed by anger and hatred and the need for revenge. he WAS like john in many ways, and i think he justified what john was doing because it also justified what HE was doing. but what he was doing led to breaking lucifer out of hell and the apocalypse that followed, which is why i like to think sam worked so hard to reign in his anger afterward - both to avoid his fate and avoid becoming his father.

in short: i don’t think sam has actually forgiven john so much as disengaged from him and moved past it. because if he DID engage with it, it’d bring up a whole lot of stuff he didn’t feel prepared to deal with. one of the risks of gray rocking things is doing it to the point that you lose touch with your own wants and needs and personality, so i think by late seasons sam’s repression, which is much more sneaky and quiet than dean’s, has settled in to the point where he’s like “yeah whatever” about dad out of sheer self preservation - because otherwise, he’d end up going crazy about it like dean does. i think it’d do him a hell of a lot of good to be able to get to shout at john and finally say his piece/ he’s really afraid of his own anger, but i think it’d be healthy for him to get back in touch with some of it.

[spn masterpost]

#liz answers asks #bimbonaparte #sam winchester #john winchester #liz makes stuff #liz's spn stuff #liz's meta #whew this was a long one sorry.#i am so glad you have the same icon on tumblr and ao3 i was replying TO YOUR COMMENT when i got this ask <3 #fun cool coincidences!!!!!#anyway i didn't want to mention my fic but like this is why i had him yell in my fic. it's good for him #for himself and for dean he deserves to feel angry

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