#i think gale's a swell little guy and maybe they could be friends later but also i dont keep him in my party that much anyway so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmakillianfan · 4 years

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A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

#csss #csss2020 #Captain Swan

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yukayjei · 4 years

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Linked Universe FanFic: No Courage Without Fear

Hi! I’ve been a fan of @jojo56830’s @linkeduniverse for a while, and I’ve been dying to contribute my own fan work to this incredible series! I’ve worked on this fic since July (2019), and it’s finally finished (May 2020), so I really hope you enjoy it! I’ll upload it in separate chapters.

While in hot pursuit of an infected monster, two Heroes face fears they battled long ago.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

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It was just before midnight, and a luminous full moon shone silver rays through the trees. The Heroes were all sound asleep under a large rocky overhang, save for two who sat keeping watch from a large, flat boulder sticking out of the ground a short distance away.

Today’s weather had been cursed with a brutal downpour. It was just their luck that all the rain drained into the valley they were traveling through, so the group had spent the day trudging against a frigid, unforgiving gale and slogging through knee-deep mud. Understandably, their relief was euphoric when they happened upon their natural shelter perched on a higher ridge, and they built a roaring fire at once.

Once the Heroes were sufficiently dried out and warmed up, the sun had already set, so they settled in. Miraculously, the clouds cleared up, and since Hyrule felt the least tired, he offered to take first watch. After a silent-yet-furious argument exchanged through indignant glares and avoiding eye contact, Sky volunteered to join him, despite being a hair’s breadth away from snoozing off.

Still, the two Heroes managed to keep each other awake through a constant stream of chatter, jokes, and (quiet) songs. Hyrule played a rather soulful tune on his flute; the notes produced were slow, yet smooth. They flowed through the air without haste, almost like a lullaby. Yet when Sky closed his eyes, instead of falling asleep, he felt his heart soar like it had grown wings, and an almost weightless sensation stole into his body.

It reminded him of a time he and Zelda snuck out of Knight Academy in the middle of the night and gone for a flight. The atmosphere was perfect. The quiet stillness in the air, the twinkling of a million stars. No clouds, just a light mist. The moon had been full, just like this night, and cast a beautiful silver glow over them and their Loftwings. He could still picture Zelda, lovelier than all of these elements combined, illuminated in the heavenly light. She looked like the goddess Hylia herself, which he’d later learned she was. The memory ebbed all the day’s stress and soreness from his body, but left a little ache inside his heart.

“That was incredible,” he sighed happily when Hyrule finished. “Where did you learn that song?”

Bashful at the praise, the brown-haired boy looked away. “I’m not sure, actually. It’s an old tune. Some say it’s been around since the dawn of Hyrule.”

“Really?” Sky leaned forward. “I never heard it until just now.”

Hyrule flashed him a quizzical look. “Well, maybe my flute doesn’t convey it as well. Sometimes, I think it sounds better on my recorder.”

Sky cocked his head to one side. “Then why not play the recorder?”

“Because I don’t want to summon a whirlwind in the first six notes!”

Sky blinked, not fully grasping what he just heard. “You don’t want to what?”

“You heard me! It would carry me off to who-knows-where!” Hyrule stood up, gesturing dramatically to the wilderness. Though his tone was serious, it also carried a hint of exaggeration.

“Seeing as you’re prone to getting lost, I’d say it suits you,” Sky joked.

Hyrule faced him now, a jolly glint in his eye. “Oh, but you don’t know half of it! It can also warp me right back where I started! In fact,” The glint turned mischievous, and he began slowly advancing toward Sky. “I could be gone for hours…”

Sky chuckled as he edged away. Exhaustion, combined with the late-night hours, must have caught up with Hyrule; delirium had taken hold, the kind that makes anything and everything downright hilarious, and Sky grinned as he felt it creeping up on himself, too.

“…And then, pop up right when you least expect it! Raaah!” With a yell, Hyrule lunged and shoved Sky off the boulder, only to slip and fall flat on his stomach where the latter just sat. A most undignified “Oooooof!” spluttered from his mouth, like air escaping a balloon. The Heroes erupted into hysterical laughter, Hyrule’s mixed with groans of pain, and Sky, sprawled on the ground with his legs propped against the boulder, clutching his stomach as he cackled like a Cucco.

“Shhh! We’re gonna wake the others!” Sky tried to sound serious and his voice cracked from the effort.

“You shhh!” came Hyrule’s witty retort before he dissolved into another laughing fit.

They laughed until they were literally gasping for breath, and even then, managed to laugh some more. Loud enough to drown out a third voice, cackling softly in the distance.

“Oh geez,” Hyrule finally wheezed out. “I feel like I cracked a rib.”

Sky rolled over onto his side, gulping in air. “You deserve it,” he croaked. A silly giggle hiccupped out. “I hit my shoulder hard when you pushed me! If it swells up, you owe me fifty Rupees.”

The brown-haired boy snorted. “Don’t exaggerate. Besides, I don’t even have fifty Rupees!”

“Then I’ll give you a matching bruise for payment.”

An empty threat, but Hyrule still offered, “How about some ice instead?”

“Deal!”

Hoisting himself up on his arms, he looked down at Sky. The Chosen Hero had already removed his green tunic and pulled down his undershirt’s left shoulder to examine the damage.

“How bad is it?” Hyrule asked, voice devoid of concern.

“The size of Four’s Octorok.”

“So, puny.”

“Feels worse than it looks,” Sky admitted, poking tentatively at the blackening bruise the size of a grape.

“You still want ice?” Even as he posed the question, Hyrule started to get up, only to lean back down. “Hey, that’s a neat scar!”

“Huh?” Sky flinched like he’d been slapped, hastily covering his shoulder with his hand. “I-I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hyrule rolled his eyes at the atrocious lie. “I already saw it. Looks like you fought a hard battle!” As he spoke, he eagerly leaned in closer.

Sky yanked his sleeve back up. “N-no, no I didn’t,” he stuttered, ears bright red. Deliberately turning his left side away from Hyrule, he added, “It’s none of your business.”

Normally, Hyrule might have let him be, but curiosity overtook him (it wasn’t like he had anything else to do). “What happened?” he pressed. “From what I saw, only a sword could have left that mark.”

“It’s nothing!” Sky growled, glaring daggers at his friend.

“Then why are you getting so defensive?” Hyrule straightened up, taken aback by his friend’s uncharacteristic surge of anger.

“Because you won’t leave me alone!”

“Was it an accident?”

“No.”

“Do you simply hate having your skin permanently disfigured?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is!” Hyrule threw his arms up in exasperation. “Scars are nothing to be ashamed of.”

“This one is!” Sky snapped. The redness in his ears spread like fire to his face as he realized he’d said more than he wanted.

For a minute, he remained completely silent, refusing to meet Hyrule’s gaze. Then he exhaled heavily. “Look, unlike the rest of you guys’ crazy stories, it’s… it’s not my– my proudest moment, okay? I don’t– I don’t want to– to talk about it.”

A muffled giggle. Sky shot Hyrule a bewildered stare, more surprised than offended. Though not above poking fun at his friends, the Hero of Hyrule was the last to laugh at someone if they were genuinely upset.

“What?” Hyrule stared back, eyes wide.

“Why’d you laugh?”

“I didn’t. I thought it was you.”

He was dead serious. The two Heroes continued to stare at each other, silently posing the next question: Then who did?

A high, cold cackle answered. Further away this time, but loud enough for the Heroes to know they weren’t imagining it. Jumping to their feet, they unsheathed their swords. Instinctively, they put their backs together as they fervently scanned their surroundings for the source.

“Do me a favor,” Hyrule muttered. “Wake the old man. It’s his shift now.”

Rushing back to the camp, Sky shook Time as hard as he could, though this would prove in vain. If the old man did not want to be woken, he would not. He’d sooner sleep for seven years if you let him.

“Hey…! Hey! Wake up!” No response. His leader simply grunted and rolled over.

Sky tried the next-closest person. “Twilight? Can you hear me?”

No response. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Wild?” he tried again, voice rising in desperation. Surely the lightest sleeper would rouse. But there was no answer. “Anyone?” Sky couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. “Wake up!”

But no one answered, let alone stirred. He may as well have whispered.

“What’s wrong with them?” Hyrule demanded, hurrying to Sky’s side.

“They’re…they’re not waking up. It’s like they’re—”

“—Under a spell,” Hyrule finished in a hushed voice, as though his worst fears had been confirmed. “Of course… this must be the work of a Wizzrobe.”

“Wizzrobe?”

Another shrill cackle, like lightning splitting a tree. Immediately, the Heroes snapped back on guard; it sounded close. Too close.

“Robed monsters possessing incredibly powerful sorcery,” Hyrule continued, eyes narrowed as he peered into the shadows, trying to spot their unseen foe. “They typically rely on elemental magic, but stronger ones are known to wield dark magic. But to incapacitate seven people at once…there could be more than one, but it’s more likely one alone that’s beyond exceptional.”

Sky gulped. “You mean, infected?”

Face pinched, Hyrule nodded. “Exactly. We need to locate it as quickly as possible.”

“Would up there be a good place to start?” Unblinking, Sky raised a stiff hand and pointed above Hyrule’s head.

The Hero of Hyrule whirled around and gasped, for there atop the highest hill, the very creature he had described gazed down upon them.

Little more than a silhouette outlined by the moon’s full shine, the only features that could be made out were a tall figure draped in a heavy cloak, and two large bloodred eyes. Before either Hero could react, the Wizzrobe raised its hands and fired a tidal wave of black magic.

“Get back!” Hyrule jumped in front of Sky and raised his shield. The wave struck the shield directly, exploding in a blinding flash. But the shield remained unscathed, and the Heroes unharmed.

Undeterred, the Wizzrobe fired again. A blast twice as large as the last screamed towards them at breakneck speed. Yet the Hero of Hyrule remained poised, and quickly chanted something under his breath.

Bright radiance enveloped his shield a split second before impact, yet the dark magic was not blocked. It was reflected straight back at its source.

The wave’s full might slammed into the Wizzrobe. The monster collapsed, doubled over in shock and pain. For a few glorious seconds, the Hero of Hyrule thought he’d won, but the Wizzrobe rose up. He couldn’t read its expression, but those bloodred eyes looked murderous.

It let out a bone-chilling screech so loud it the Heroes’ ears threatened to bleed. The moon swelled to twice its size and took on a sinister crimson tint. Wind whipped around them like a tornado. Just seconds ago, the sky was clear, yet it now filled with ominous red clouds. Lightning flashed. Thunder reverberated high in the heavens and deep under the earth.

A bolt struck the ground right in front of the Heroes. With a yell, they threw their hands up over their faces, struggling not to fall down. Then the wind died down, leaving eerie silence ringing in their ears. Raising their heads, the boys saw that the sky had miraculously cleared. The moon shone stark white again. All seemed well, but the Wizzrobe had vanished.

“Where did it go?” was the first thing out of Sky’s mouth as he checked all around. Had it snuck up behind them in the confusion? Alas, there was no sign of the sorcerer. Their friends still slept peacefully, much to his relief.

“Was that…an illusion?” Hyrule stared blankly up at the hill, trying to comprehend all he’d just seen. “I sensed its magic was beyond ordinary, but I never imagined…”

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t have your shield,” Sky murmured. “Sorry, but how’d you repel it like that? I didn’t see you move an inch!”

“A spell I picked up in my travels,” Hyrule explained shortly. Sweeping his gaze over the camp, he muttered, “No one’s stirring.”

“They aren’t awake?” Sky shot him a worried glance.

“The Wizzrobe only retreated. Temporarily, I’m sure.”

Sky sheathed his sword. “What should we do, then? Prepare for its return?”

“No,” came the Hero of Hyrule’s decisive response. “We’ll pursue it.”

“Hold on a second!” Sky held up his hands. “I’m not against hunting it down, but what about the others?” He gestured to their friends, who still showed no signs of waking up. “We can’t just leave them here, defenseless! Suppose the Wizzrobe doubles back?”

“It won’t,” Hyrule responded forcefully. When Sky stared blankly, he elaborated, “I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling it won’t continue its plan— whatever it is— unless it traps all of us where and how it wants.”

Sky bit his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “Look, I–I trust you. I just don’t trust the Wizzrobe. Maybe one– maybe one of us could find it—”

“No! It’s too dangerous to go alone. We need to confront it together, especially if it’s like all other monsters we’ve fought!”

“But—”

The Hero of the Winds cried out in his sleep. Hyrule and Sky whirled around to see the youngest Hero tossing and turning, his face twisted in pain. His hand stretched out, like he was reaching for something.

Hyrule and Sky rushed to his side, falling to their knees. A desperate, fragile hope clung to them. “Wind? Wind, can you hear me?” Sky called, his voice hoarse.

Wind’s reaching hand seized Sky’s arm. In his feverish state, the young Hero mumbled, “Got you… just… hold on… don’t let go!”

With his free hand, Sky grasped Wind’s. “Everything’s going to be okay, Wind. It’s just a bad dream! Wake up!”

But the youngest Hero only tightened his grip. “Please…hang on…” he whispered. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

The sight was too much to bear. Hyrule felt a huge lump forming in his throat. A choked gasp escaped from his lips and he fought to stifle it. He turned away, but he could not escape the horror that enveloped the rest of the sleeping Heroes. There lay Wild, twitching and shaking like a frightened rabbit. Warriors, curled up into the fetal position and muttering nonstop. Legend, shouting incoherently into the night, each tormented cry more agonizing than the last. Twilight, hands balled into fists and growling “no” through clenched teeth over and over. Time, whose whole body shuddered every few seconds. Four, who lay so still they couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

The Hero of Hyrule was at a loss for what to do. What to say. Their friends’ condition had evolved into something far worse than imagined. Could he and Sky, who were just two people, even consider confronting the Wizzrobe, which he was starting to see more as a demon? Despair welled up inside his heart, weighing down his entire body like heavy iron chains.

As quickly as it had set in, he shook off the invisible shackles. How dare he think like that? Their friends were depending on them! A spark of determination flickered in his heart, spurring him to action.

Standing tall again, Hyrule approached Sky, who still knelt beside Wind, cradling him and clutching the smaller boy’s hand. Hyrule rested his own hand on Sky’s shoulder. “Listen,” he murmured softly, “I don’t want to leave them, either. But even if we wait for it to return, we’re at the bottom of a valley. With the range Wizzrobes have, we’d be at a tremendous disadvantage.”

Sky didn’t meet his gaze, but after a few moments’ silence, he sighed. “You’re right. The only way we can help is if we find and put an end to what’s threatening them.”

As gently as possible, he lay the Hero of Winds down and tucked his blanket over his shoulders. Letting go of his hand earned Sky a heart wrenching sob from the boy, but he managed to push past it and stand up. The same spark glinted in his eyes, too. “Let’s go.”

#linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #loz #the legend of zelda #link #tloz

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everlark-your-own-adventure · 7 years

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Powder Keg - Ch 6

Welcome back to the adventure we’re all everlarking together! Fallen behind in the story? Here are the previous chapters: Chapter 1 /// Chapter 2 /// Chapter 3 /// Chapter 4 /// Chapter 5

Last week, injured and trapped by a storm, our heroine took refuge with her nemesis in a cave... and found out that their past might not be exactly as she remembers. You voted for her to let down her guard a little and risk her coworkers ridicule by staying snuggled up with Peeta. What happens next? The incredible @javistg continues the story...

I take a deep breath and tell myself it doesn’t really matter who sees me here. I’m trapped in place by Peeta’s jacket, and my leg isn’t cooperating much. Even if I wanted to stand, I probably wouldn’t be able to do it without aggravating my injury.

A moment later, two tall men with identical white and red parkas and matching hazel eyes burst through the cave’s entrance.

“Hey, guys, what’s the problem?” Castor, one of our rescuers, asks.

“It’s her knee,” Peeta answers, unzipping his jacket and setting me free.

Pollux, the second paramedic —who is the spitting image of the first— kneels in front of us and twists me to the side so he can inspect my leg. His gentle fingers press and prod around my knee, feeling for any swelling or broken bones.

The icy wind from the cave envelops me, and I begin to shiver.

Peeta wraps his arms around me once more, and I lean into him trying to soak up as much of his warmth as I can without moving my leg.

“It might be dislocated,” Pollux says, “it’s hard to tell through your clothes, but I don’t want to expose you to the cold too much. I’m just going to wrap it with an ice pack to help with the swelling and immobilize it. We’ll give you a full diagnosis back at the clinic.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I clench my hands into tight fists on my lap to keep from crying. Dislocated! That would mean the end of my winter job. What am I going to do now?

As if hearing my thoughts, Peeta tightens his hold on me burrowing his face into the crook of my neck. The gesture soothes me, and I begin to relax once more.

The two brothers get to work quickly, wrapping a long splint around my leg. When they’re done, Castor offers me his hands and, with a pull, helps me to my feet.

Peeta stands up behind me, quickly grabbing my jacket and draping it over my shoulders. “Alright, you ride with Pollux. Castor and I will take your gear and meet you back at the clinic,” he instructs.

I nod. A part of me wishes Peeta could come with me. Despite everything that’s happened between us, I still trust him to keep me safe, but there’s no point in saying anything, there isn’t enough room in the snow trac for the two of us with my outstretched leg. We’ll go faster if he rides on the snowmobile with Castor.

XXXXX

Sprained ligament. At least 3 weeks rest. The doctor’s words bounce around in my skull.

I bite my lip to keep from screaming.

I took this job because I needed the extra money. I thought it would be an easy, fun way to have a little more for the holidays and maybe even save up for next year. But this injury just put a stop to all that. I don’t need a cast, and I can still move around somewhat, but I won’t be able to ski anymore.

It’s time to face the music, say goodbye to the slopes and hello to the snack bar. Ugh!

I sigh, melting into the mattress of the gurney I’m on, as I wait for the painkillers the doctor gave me to work their magic.

Suddenly, the door swings open and a glowering Gale walks in.

My stomach drops. Despite my best efforts to give my friend a day off, he still ended up here.

“You Ok, Catnip?” he asks, voice surprisingly gentle.

Still too numb to speak, I nod.

“Wait till I get my hands on the little shit,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

My ears perk up. “What are you going on about?”

“Mellark!” he spits. “He should have been watching out for you out there, not endangering you!”

Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest. I know Gale’s only being protective of me, like an older brother who worries over my wellbeing; but, for some reason, his words rub me the wrong way.

“I’m not a child, Gale!” I snap. “I know how to take care of myself. Peeta didn’t do anything wrong, we were racing downhill, and I got distracted, that’s all.”

He keeps quiet, but I can still see fire raging behind his eyes. “What were you doing out there with him, anyway? I thought you hated his guts.”

“I do,” I say, but there’s a lot less bite to my tone.

I still haven’t had a chance to process my conversation with Peeta, too much has happened in the last few hours, but my head hasn’t stopped spinning, second-guessing the choices I made over the past three years of my life.

I shake my head, Gale doesn’t need to know this. “I was doing my job,” I explain. “We had a group of children earlier in the day, and one of them got lost. Peeta and I were looking for him. When Johanna told us he’d been found we decided to race back down.”

“Are you sure he didn’t push you, or—,”

I raise my hand to make him stop. “Yes, I’m sure. Peeta’s not like that, Gale. He might be a douche who throws himself at anything that moves, but he wouldn’t do anything to endanger me. We’ve gone down those slopes hundreds of times, I know I can trust him when we’re out on the mountain.”

Gale crosses his arms and sets his jaw. I can tell he’s not entirely convinced, but he probably doesn’t want to get into a fight with me just now. I’m lying on a stretcher with a bandaged leg, after all.

Maybe it’s the certainty I feel in the words I just said, or the memory of all those happy days I spent in the snow with Peeta, but the next words fall from my lips before I can stop myself. “Can I ask you something?”

Gale nods.

“Did you ever tell Peeta to leave me alone?”

Gale’s eyes register surprise. I see his shoulders slump as he releases the air from his lungs. “I did,” he admits.

“Why?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

He reaches over to brush a gentle finger over my forehead. “You never told me what happened between you two, but you were so… broken, Catnip. I couldn’t stand to see you like that.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture tender and sweet. “I knew I didn’t have a chance with you, but I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore.”

My chest tightens. No one asked Gale to interfere. If anything, his actions only made my problems worse —Peeta might have been more insistent if Gale hadn’t scared him away— but his heart was in the right place. I can’t really fault him for trying to protect me.

“I thought he was with Bristel,” I quietly admit. I think it’s the first time I’ve actually said the words out loud.

Gale’s jaw drops open. “Back then?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He narrows his eyes. I can see his mind working, quickly sorting through the memories. “Wasn’t her brother like, really sick?”

“Yeah.” I feel like the biggest fool in history. Why didn’t I piece this together back then? How could I just cut Peeta off without giving him a chance to explain? Our romance might have been new, but we had been friends for a long time. We deserved better.

“I thought she was dating Darius,” Gale mutters, still reminiscing about the past.

I shrug, but I know he’s right. Darius was away visiting his family —he always does this time of year— but I’m pretty sure they were already together back then. As far as I know, they still are. I close my eyes. I don’t want to talk about Bristel anymore.

Gale knows me well enough to take the hint. “Ok,” he starts, completely changing the subject. “I’m going to head out to the main office to talk to Johanna. That teacher is bringing her kids back tomorrow, and we need to figure out who’s going to take care of them. I’ll be back when I’m done to take you home. Is there anything you need?”

I shake my head.

When I open my eyes, I find him looking back at me, gray eyes heavy with worry. “Thanks, Gale,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to come out here on your day off.”

He waves my words away. “Nonsense, Catnip. That’s what friends are for, right? We need to look out for each other.”

XXXXX

The sound of heavy footfalls startles me awake. I open my eyes and turn to find Peeta standing by my side. Blue eyes soft and worried under the fluorescent light.

“Hey!” he says, reaching out to grab my hand. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I say, voice hoarse with sleep. “It’s only a sprain, all I need is rest and meds.” Looking around the bare ER, I ask, “Was I asleep very long?”

“I don’t think so. I saw Gale heading out a few minutes ago.”

I frown, sleep doesn’t come easily to me. These meds are powerful stuff.

“I left all your gear next to your cubby,” he explains.

“Thanks. I won’t be needing any of it soon, though,” I grumble.

Peeta’s warm thumb begins tracing soft circles over my hand. “I’m sorry, Katniss.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a race. I fell. It happens sometimes.”

“I know,” he says nodding, “but still…”

We stay silent for a moment, his hand moving over mine as he looks at my leg.

He’s pale and tired. I can see the fatigue in his deep blue eyes.

I just want to wrap my arms around him and reassure him, tell him that I’m ok and that everything will be fine.

I don’t know if it’s the medicine making me loopy, or the fact that he’s taken such good care of me since I fell down, but I wrap my free hand over his wrist and squeeze lightly. “I never answered your question,” I whisper.

Startled blue eyes meet mine.

“Back in the cave,” I clarify, “you asked me something.”

It takes him an instant to process what I’m saying, but when he does, he merely nods.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Peeta’s face relaxes into a smile. “You want to be friends?”

“Yeah,” I confirm.

His eyes light up. “Under one condition, though.”

I scowl. I don’t know if he’s in any position to ask for anything.

Undeterred by my reaction, Peeta goes on, “Full honesty this time. That´s all I ask. No more walking away or ignoring each other if we have a problem.” He looks straight at me, pinning me in place with the candor of his request. “I don’t think I could handle any more misunderstandings,” he adds.

The pain in his words floors me. The truth is that my feelings for Peeta, good and bad, have always been too intense, and I don’t think I could handle something like that either —I’ve barely managed to pull myself together after our fall out three years ago.

My mind screams for me to back away and nip this in the bud, to quit before I end up getting hurt once more, but the rest of me wants to be with Peeta again; to experience the joy I’ve only known when I’m with him.

What should I do? Accept his terms and start a new friendship with him or say no and push him away once and for all.

#powder keg #EYOA #vote vote vote!#things are coming along #I'm getting excited!#edited

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