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artistic-writer · 6 years ago

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Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 23

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of Werewolf! Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, especially those of you who have encouraged me so much along the way. There is another art to post, but I am unfortunately not in the right place to do so (it’s saved on another computer) so that will be posted tomorrow with a reblog. I have also been sick all week, and not been able to complete ch 24, so i am aplogising in advance if there is a delay with the ending, especially as I have left this one on a cliff hanger.

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssnsThank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan@sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones@bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan@onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

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“What are they doing?” Graham asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

David was at the window, peeking through a gap in the curtains, but he had seen all he needed to see. The barrage of werewolves on his land was a real threat, fanning out in human form around a single truck that David knew held his brother. James was dramatic, he always had been, and he would be the last wolf to appear.

“Awaiting orders,” David mumbled, watching the array of wolves with a narrowed stare. His breath fogged the glass in front of his face as he spoke, clouding his view of the attackers.

They were organized and methodical, moving into position like they had been practising for years. David heaved a sigh at the thought. Knowing his brother, these wolves had probably been conditioned to the highest degree, beaten until they were unable to take any more and then made to take more. James was pure hatred and in his world, only the strongest survived.

David wasn’t sure how many wolves had lost their lives at the hands of James. The only one thing he knew for certain was that they had.

“Speaking of,” Graham interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his Alpha’s shoulder. “We have wolves ready throughout the grounds, inside and outside the house. Will is awaiting my next instruction.”

“Will is here?” Emma asked, almost a little too excitedly.

“Who is Will?” Killian added gruffly, a darkness to his voice that had David staring directly at him. The Alpha cocked his head sideways and looked at his newest pack member.

Killian looked at Emma and the blue of his eyes had turned grey, taking on a coal like darkness that echoed the clench of his jaw. She matched his stare, green eyes boring into his, the silent conversation between them of assurances not going unnoticed by their Alpha. Emma was telling him it was okay, that she would explain everything, but Killian only had rage in his eyes.

“Something I should know?” David prompted them, interrupting their stare.

Graham looked to Emma, who gave him a sideways glance, not committing to the full act of looking at him. He had no idea that mentioning Will would cause this sort of reaction of her mate, and he looked to Killian nervously. The only other wolf he had ever seen with the same sort of look was James.

“Answer your Alpha,” Graham insisted, nudging Killian with his elbow.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma said impatiently.

David silenced her with a wave of his hand, moving across the room towards Killian. He took him in, Killian’s stance closed and aggressive, shoulders hunched and stiff from tension. He was angry, but David couldn’t tell why. His scent had changed, a more masculine scent than before invading the space between them as David approached him and shook him from his fury with a slight nudge.

“Killian?” David spoke quietly and calmly, and Killian blinked a few times, clearing his red blurred vision. David looked at him, a mixture of fear and apology in Killian’s eyes after the inner wolf, so full of bloodlust, had subsided. A blush crept over his cheeks and Killian licked his lips nervously, averting his gaze as David reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Killian stuttered nervously. “I’m not...I don’t-”

“Will is Graham’s beta,” David assured him kindly. “He is no threat, I promise you. I know it’s hard, all these terms and new rules that you’ve never heard before.” Killian nodded a little. “We can help you tame it, Killian. I know the inner wolf so eagerly craves blood, and we have all struggled.”

Killian’s eyes went wide with shock, and despite all his warnings, he stared David directly in the eye. There was no challenge, and David knew that; he was not threatened a single bit by the half-wolf in front of him.

“Your whole life is about to change. You are going to feel things you never have before, and some will be confusing,” David told him with a warm smile. “Being a wolf takes more than being a man-”

“With all due respect, sir,” Killian interrupted sheepishly, “being half man makes me a better wolf.”

Killian had the drive and the tenacity that made only a few wolves great, but he also harboured a darkness David had seen within his brother. James was taught the ways, shown the path, and despite his father’s encouragement, had been overtaken with the desire to kill once he spilt blood. Killian needed a gentle hand to guide him into pack order, and Misthaven was where he would find it.

“Maybe,” David agreed with a nod. “In time, and with Emma’s love, you will be a better wolf than me.”

David could see the flash of fear in Killian’s eyes, behind the bravado, the love for his daughter shining above all else. David had seen that before too, in his own reflection, his love for Mary Margaret lighting his journey and taming his own darkness, shaping him into the wolf he was today. Every wolf had the ability to become encumbered by the blackness in their hearts, but not every wolf had the chance to shine a light on it.

Emma was Killian’s light, David could see that now, and he just needed the right pack to guide him the rest of the way.

“You are strong and fierce, Killian. More wolf than human, I’d say. Do you think, just for a little while, the wolf my daughter loves can help us protect our home?” David gave Killian a warm smile, patting him on the back like an old friend and Killian felt his entire body relax.

“Yes, sir.” Killian smirked. “I can certainly try.”

“Good,” David nodded before turning to Graham with a much sterner face. “Emma, go to Will. Protect the rear. Killian, Graham, you come with me,” David demanded, the sound of his wolves rousing throughout the old house. “This is my home as long as I am breathing. Graham, you see to Walsh. That snivelling mutt needs to know his place.”

“Above or below ground?” Graham snarled, his nostrils flaring.

“You decide,” David rasped darkly. “Killian, you think you can think clearly enough to fight with me?”

“Like my life depended on it,” Killian said faithfully.

“It might,” David sighed. “I’m sorry, but it just might.”

James stepped from the truck, the old leather seat squeaking under his weight as he slid from his place behind the wheel. There was a light dew hanging just above the ground all around Misthaven. It was coated with the scent of wolves, mostly male, but between the droplets of moisture, James could detect the scent of his niece. She was no longer in heat, he could smell that, but she was scared, her fear evident in the air.

“She’s here,” James growled on a long inhale, turning to meet the gaze of his beta at his side.

“I smell her too,” Walsh agreed with a nod, the inside of his mouth becoming wet with saliva. Emma’s scent was new, freshly laid across the ground and a nearby truck that reeked of the Misthaven beta, Graham Humbert. There was another scent Walsh could detect, one he would never forget as long as he was alive. He ground his jaw impatiently, fists balling at his sides. “The mongrel is here too,” he spat, lips curling as he focused on the house.

James whipped his head to the house once more, an eyebrow rising on his forehead. “The mongrel? Now that is interesting,” he muttered to himself.

“Maybe he is dead already,” Felix offered, the Neverland pack member appearing next to James. Even though he had no visible injuries from his alleyway fight with Killian, his ego was still bruised from the way Killian had grinned a blood stained smile in his face.

“If he isn’t, he soon will be,” Walsh ground out, shooting his comrade a glance whilst fingering the scar tissue on his neck.

“Enough!” James barked, looking between the two wolves on either side of him. “This isn't the time to be caught up in petty revenge,” he growled, pointing first to Felix and then to Walsh with a menacing finger. “Look where that got you last time.”

Walsh looked to the ground, his toes curling in his boots. He didn’t have to look at James to know that his Alpha was still disappointed in him, but he could redeem himself. It was either that or his life would be snuffed out before he had time to blink. James was ruthless. The years Walsh had spent at his side would mean nothing to James if he stopped him from taking Misthaven from David.

“Take half the men and flank right,” James told Felix, nodding towards the back of the house. “Stop anyone that gets in your way.”

Felix nodded eagerly, silently signalling a handful of werewolves to follow him as they slipped into the darkness beside the house and around the back. They were silent, and as big as they were, they tread silently across the driveway and scaled the fences with ease. When they were gone, Walsh let out a breath, the skin on his forearms standing to attention in the sleeves of his jacket as a ripple of excitement passed over his skin.

“This is going to be fun,” he sneered, all but rubbing his hands together.

“Attack!” James called out, ignoring his beta, his voice echoing through the nearby trees. A bird flew off from its perch, calling out it's warning as it took flight, wings hitting branches as it escaped the confines of the brush.

The wave of werewolves behind them rushed forward, barging shoulders with each other as they let out an almighty roar, their voices carried across the land like the rumble of a huge engine. James led the charge, Walsh at his side, feet sliding on the gravel beneath their feet as they ran up the driveway that led straight to the huge doors of the house.

“Will!” Emma called out, rushing through the hall and into the huge, farmhouse style kitchen at the back of the old house. She slid to a stop just in front of the huge island counter, the flash of black in Will’s eyes as he gave her a quick glance telling her he knew what she was about to say.

“They’re coming over the fences!” he said quickly, pointing left and then right. “Come on!” He motioned Emma to follow him, yanking the door open and rushing out onto the slippery grass behind the house.

Emma followed, quick to take instruction from Graham’s beta. Will Scarlett was another loyal pack member, another stray that David and Mary Margaret had taken in when his family had abandoned him. He was a few years younger than Emma but had struck up a firm relationship with Graham when they were teens. Now, adults, Will answered to Graham as his second-in-command.

Misthaven was like any other pack in terms of hierarchy, with an Alpha at the forefront, leading the pack in everyday scenarios as well as political decisions. His second-in-command would be a beta, in Misthaven’s case Graham Humbert, who in turn would have his own beta. Will Scarlett was Graham’s beta, and as such, a high ranking member of the Misthaven pack, so Emma fell into line immediately, following his orders.

Out in the open yard they were bombarded, five burly looking werewolves in human form rushing towards them whilst the one known as Felix followed up the rear. Emma spied him instantly, recognising him from the alleyway where Killian was taken, and caught his gaze with her stare. He sneered, lips curving back across his teeth in a grimace that made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You take the stragglers,” Emma whispered to Will. “The big guy is mine.”

Will didn’t have time to object before he was pushed out of the way by Emma, her eyes fixed on Felix with an aggressive stare. Her feet carried her across the grass, dodging a few of the Neverland wolves, the point of her elbow connecting with Felix’s jaw as she jumped through the air with a roar. He recoiled back, his forward momentum causing his jaw to slide sideways and out of place, his hand immediately clutching the offending joint as he fell to the ground.

Emma skidded to a stop, turning to face the brute with a wicked grin. Felix snapped his head towards her, a growl escaping his throat as he grunted in frustration. His mouth tasted coppery, the blood from his gums coating his tongue, and with a curl of his lips, Felix spat a mixture of blood and saliva to the ground.

“You don’t look so tough,” Felix grunted, shaking his head at her and pushing himself to his feet. He rushed her again, but Emma parried left, spinning on her heel and righting her stance immediately in case he was quicker than her. He wasn’t, his weight not on his side as it carried him passed her, and Emma sent a kick right into his back. Felix howled, arching his back into the pain as he fell to his knees.

“How do I look now?” Emma smirked.

Felix scrambled to his feet, charging her once more, his jaw clenched tight as he ignored the pain that still throbbed through it. Emma was ready, blocking blow after blow as they sparred, Felix’s clenched fist finally connecting with her face. He grinned triumphantly, snorting through his nose, and Emma dabbed the split in her lip.

“Oh,” Felix taunted, heaving a breath. “Did that hurt, princess?”

Emma grit her teeth, inspecting her fingertips for blood, the crimson fluid coating her skin. She growled under her breath and licked the cut, the tang of copper coating her taste buds.

“Not as much as this is going to!” Emma roared, rushing for the brute once more.

Felix let out a cry, and Emma dodged him again. She was smaller than him, more nimble and she landed another elbow to the back of his neck. He cried out, clutching the back of his head and narrowing his eyes at her as he winced in pain. Emma smiled, mirroring the one Killian had given Felix in the alleyway, and it made him boil with rage. Felix let out an anguished cry, tearing the jacket from his back and falling to all fours with a groan.

Emma watched in disbelief as Felix changed, his hands clutching at the ground before turning into paws and his spine growing longer as he stretched into wolf form. His clothes ripped from his body and Emma was met with the sight of his wolf, the huge, black tipped grey hairs of his pelt bristling along his back. Felix lifted his head after his transformation, a low growl in the back of his throat as his green eyes darkened and fixed on his prey.

“Oh, shit!” Emma gasped, a hot flush of panic rippling over her flesh. She turned tail and ran, heading back towards the house as Felix gave chase, snarling and snapping at her heels. She ran into the house through the kitchen door and turned, pushing the heavy wooden door as hard as she could, but the weight of the wolf pursuing her crashed into it and sent her flying across the kitchen.

Emma hit the wall, crashing into her mother’s display of patterned plates, and overturning the table in the process. There was a huge crashing sound, bits of the broken ceramics raining down on her as she winced from a pain that shot through her ribs. One was definitely broken, maybe two, and she clutched her side in agony, boots scuffing the dusty, wooden floorboards as she scrambled for cover behind the fallen farmhouse table. A shard of a plate had sliced her face, but Emma ignored the dripping wound when Felix’s growl roused her once more.

The wolf was in the house, the door swinging shut behind him keeping Will outside. Emma heard him sniff the air, tongue licking at his chops as he sought her out. She knew he could smell her, and it was only a matter of time before he realised she was so close and injured. Emma glanced around, finding only a huge shard of the broken crockery and clutched it in her hand.

The sound of Felix’s claws on the floor drew nearer, and Emma could even hear the drops of his drool hitting the floor as they spilt from his maw. He growled low, a warning most likely, and Emma clutched the broken bird covered porcelain harder, the jagged edge tearing into the fingers of her skin and palm. With a bark of excitement, Felix leapt onto the edge of the upturned table, looming over her and Emma cried out in surprise.

The wolf snapped its jaws, lips upturned in a menacing snarl, fangs dripping with saliva as it growled, green eyes aglow with hatred. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and lifted her arm, broken plate piece ready to strike but then, out of nowhere, the sound of cast iron hitting bone echoed through the kitchen and Felix slumped to the ground, limp and lifeless. The hollow vibration rang out again, and again, and Emma peeled her eyes open to see her mother straightening her stance and wiping specks of blood from her pale face.

“Mom?” Emma asked, her voice high pitched.

“Hush,” barked Snow, eyeing the wolf carcass now slumped over her kitchen table. She huffed, annoyed. “If your father thinks I am going to hide away in some panic room whilst my daughter gets mauled by a Neverland wolf, he has another thing coming.”

Snow extended her hand to her daughter, smiling warmly as Emma clutched her limb and was pulled upright. Emma groaned in pain as she stood, the feel of bone crunching against bone inside her torso and the sting of her cut cheek as it reopened making her hiss. Snow looked her over, concern etched on her face, but Emma gave her a reassuring nod.

“I’m fine, mom,” she insisted but Snow was unconvinced, just about to object when Will came crashing through the back door.

He was bloodied, a swollen lip and a cut under his eyes, but somehow Emma could still see the red tint of a blush when he realised Snow had caught him inside the house with dirty boots and clothes on. She gave him a frown, hands on hips as she motioned to his mud clad footwear with a glare, just like when he was a child.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nolan,” Will stammered quickly, out of breath from his fight. “I’ll clean up, I promise.”

“Yes, you will,” Snow chastised him playfully. “But not before you go help my husband.” Snow pointed to the hall, giving Will the silent go ahead. He nodded, rushing off through the doorway as Emma collapsed against her mother once more.

Will bounded up the huge staircase three steps at a time, grabbing the rail and pulling his weight with each step. He breathed heavily, already half exhausted from his fight with the straggling wolves outside, but the sound of his Alpha in a fight made him ignore the burning in his lungs and continue on to his goal. At the top of the stairs he saw Graham, engaged in a fist fight with James and from the look of things, gaining the upper hand.

The Neverland Alpha was strong, and he fought back, countering each of Graham’s blows with one of his own. The men exchanged blows so furiously quick, Will had a hard time keeping track, but he heard the unmistakable sound of teeth breaking loose from James’ jaw as Graham landed a backhanded punch to the older wolf’s face. James stumbled backwards, giving Graham pause, and the Neverland Alpha looked back at him slowly, a dark, narrow stare as he spit blood out onto the floor between them.

“My brother chose a fine Beta in you, Humbert,” James said darkly, licking at a split in his lower lip. He rearranged his jaw again, spitting out a tooth which hit the floor and sounded like a dice rolling across the wooden boards. “Ever considered a darker career path?”

“Not in a million years,” Graham spat disgustedly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Ah, that’s right,” James said snidely. “You can’t, what with your human and mongrel child.”

Graham ground his jaw, fists balling at his sides. He hunched his shoulders, staring down the Alpha who dared threaten his family. He didn’t know how James knew, and he didn’t want to know, but what he did want was the man in front of him dead. Anger fuelled his already tired body and Graham lunged forward, teeth bared and his lungs expelling a cry of rage.

“Graham, no!” Will screamed, the thickness of his accent rolling his tongue around the name.

Graham didn’t listen, following through his action and grabbing James by the shoulders. The men stumbled backwards, Graham’s weight atop James as they rolled to the floor. James threw a punch upward, colliding with Graham’s jaw, but the beta didn’t falter, stiffening his neck to absorb the blow. James lifted his knee, tossing Graham over his head in one motion that sent the beta sprawled out behind him towards the end of the hall.

“You’d better get me, boy!” James taunted, pushing himself to his feet and motioning Graham to him with a flick of his fingers. “Before I get to that pretty human of yours.”

Graham jumped to his feet, barely giving himself a chance to shake off his fall when he charged James again. The Neverland alpha grinned a bloody smile, digging his hand behind his back to grip at the handle of a knife sheathed on his belt. As Graham got closer, James took up stance, half squatting on the spot, bouncing on the balls of his feet ready to move. As Graham reached him, James dodged sideways, pulling his knife free and plunging it into Graham’s shoulder as he passed him.

Graham cried out, falling to the floor with a thud, and Will was at his side in an instant. By the time Graham rolled over, hand clawing at the top of his shoulder, James was gone, nothing but his scent lingering in the hallway.

“Where did he go?” Will asked quickly, assessing Graham’s shoulder. The blade was in deep, probably touching bone, and Graham winced with a growl when Will gave it a tug.

“God, Scarlett!” Graham hissed. “Stop pulling on it!” Graham batted his beta’s hand away, tutting in frustration.

“It’s got to come out!” Will insisted. Graham growled again, half a groan of consensus as he nodded. “On three,” Will told him firmly, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the hunting knife. Graham tensed, gritting his teeth and snorting short, panicked breaths. “One, two-”

“Son of a bitch!” Graham yelled when Will pulled the blade earlier than he anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Will said quickly, tossing the blade aside and covering the wound with his hand. “Hold still, let me see.” Graham calmed his writhing, steading his breath as Will lifted his now bloodied palm and peered down at the slice in Graham’s shoulder. He wrinkled his nose a little but the wound looked clean and not as deep as he first thought. “I think you’re good,” Will confirmed. “It looks clean.”

“That mother fucker,” Graham rasped, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouting. “He’s gone after David.”

“Killian was with him,” Will assured, helping him into a more comfortable position. Graham hissed through the pain, his shoulder blade throbbing like he had been burned. “I’ll go and check-”

“No!” Graham insisted hastily, clutching Will’s arm desperately. “Neverland knows about my family,” he gasped between breaths. “Go to the cabin. Make sure Ruby and Davin are okay.”

“But-” Will began.

Graham cut him off. “This is not up for discussion, Scarlett!” he growled. He grabbed Will by the head, forcing the lower pack member to look directly in his eye, and unable to look away, Will paled under Graham’s command. “Go.”

Will nodded, rushing to his feet and fleeing the hall, his feet pounding the floorboards as he ran down the stairs and out the huge fortified front doors. Graham slumped back against the wall, the cold, wet patch of bloodied cloth sticking to his skin as it pressed against the surface behind him. He looked along the hall in the direction James could only have gone, and prayed Killian was able to finish what he had started.

David and Killian were holed up in one of the libraries with nowhere to go. They would fight their way out if needed, but David had intentionally drawn the Neverland wolves to that spot because he knew it would give them the advantage. He knew the house like the back of his hand, and any Neverland wolf able to get through his pack defenses would surely fall by his hand.

The sound of men hitting each other ricocheted through the old house as wolves battled each other. Dull, sickening punches and the cracking of bones was all that could be heard from the opposite side of the door. Killian’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsing through his eardrums and almost making him deaf to the cries of wolves as they fell. He wasn’t sure if they were friend or foe, but he was caught between the lust for blood and the fear of the battle. Killian had never encountered hostility like the Neverland pack, and if he survived, he never wanted to again.

“You traitor!”

Killian looked at David when he heard the unmistakable sound of Walsh from the end of the hall. There was another room there, and David nodded when Killian reached for the handle, twisting it open silently. They both stared down the silent hallway, bodies littering the landing like dirty laundry. There was another shout, this time of pain, and Killian instantly recognised it as his father.

“Neverland is fighting amongst themselves,” David whispered, peering over Killian’s shoulder.

“It’s my father,” Killian told him, whispering back.

“He’s here? Why?” David looked confused. He knew that Brennan Jones was a member of Neverland, but what he didn’t know was why he would be fighting in their corner, turning on his own to help defend an Alpha he didn’t follow.

Killian strained to listen, but the conversation between Brennan and Walsh was muffled on the other side of the door. He could only smell Walsh and his father, the still warm bodies of the fallen wolves fading from his senses.

“He’s helping,” Killian whispered, unable to believe his own words.

The dull sound of a clenched fist hitting a body caught Killian’s attention and without thinking, he ran along the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. The door at the end led into one of the libraries, and just as his boot connected with the door and sent it flying open, Killian saw his father hunched over in pain. Brennan was clutching his stomach, all the air leaving his body as he stumbled back into a huge wall of books. With little energy to even stand, Brennan grabbed a book from the shelf behind his shoulder and launched it at his attacker, the heavy leather bound tome hitting Walsh directly in the jaw.

Walsh recoiled in pain, grabbing his face as the weight of the book completely turned his neck sideways and his head was jarred unnaturally. He snarled in anger, launching himself at Brennan once again, but Killian was there to block his assault and take the brunt of the damage. He caught his arm mid air, twisting it sideways with a sickening snapping sound, Walsh howling in agony as he desperately tried to pull away.

“Killian, get back!” Brennan rasped, his voice changed from how hard he had been gasping for breath. He clutched at his arm, a burn mark in the fabric there.

“No!” Killian roared, eyes fixed on Walsh, his feet planted firmly on the ground to protect his father.

“Listen to your father,” Walsh spat, hugging his broken arm to his chest. “Or should we end this once and for all, mongrel?”

With an evil grin, Walsh presented what he had been hiding behind his back, and the reason why Brennan had been overpowered so easily. The long black pole of the cattle prod in his hands sent a shiver down Killian’s spine, his neck flushing hot with anxiety at the sight of it. Walsh let out a chuckle, his sadistic laugh not even enough to rouse Killian from his panic. He was frozen, petrified to the spot and when Walsh turned it on, the blue spark jumping between the pronged ends, Killian flinched backward.

“Oooo!” Walsh sounded through a laugh. “Looks like someone has a little residual trauma lingering around.”

Killian took a breath, steadying his nerves, grinding his teeth at the remark. He knew Walsh was just torturing him, trying to force him into making a move. Walsh was injured, incapacitated by his broken arm in such a way that all he really had left was his threats. Killian licked his lips, eyes scanning over Walsh’s face, searching for any indication that the wolf in front of him might attack, only all Killian saw was panic behind Walsh’s bravado. He was a wolf alone in a battle, outnumbered and at a disadvantage, and he knew it.

“What’s wrong?” Killian asked frankly. “You look a little scared.”

“Ha!” Walsh sneered. “Of you two?” He motioned between them with a wave of the cattle prod. “An old wolf not fit to be alive and his mongrel son? Please.” Walsh stepped forward, brandishing the sparking pole and Killian couldn’t fight the way his body moved back again. Walsh let out a sadistic laugh, igniting the rod once more, only for it to fizzle out after a small blue spark as the batteries run flat.

“You’re not having much luck, are you boy?” Brennan coughed, clutching his side as a grin lit up his face. “Not so big without weapons, are you?”

Brennan’s jibe riled Walsh enough that he lunged forward, holding the pole above his head with the intention of striking Killian. Killian was too quick, reaching up and grabbing the cattle prod mid strike, his might too much for Walsh who had to let go when Killian twisted the device from his grip. Walsh jumped back, huddled near the wall, panting hard from the tussle.

“What are you going to do now, halfbreed?” Walsh spat, his lips curling over his teeth in disgust at the words he used.

Killian looked down at the rod in his hands and then back to Walsh, a wolfish grin on his face. He shook his head, pinching his eyes closed for a second, before tossing the defunkt pole aside where it hit the wooden floor with a clatter.

“I’m not like you,” Killian ground out. “I will not hurt someone else for fun.”

“Just like I suspected,” Walsh growled. “Weakness runs in the Jones blood. Tell me, Killian,” Walsh growled, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small handgun. Killian’s eyes went wide, the black pistol pointed directly at him. “Does Liam know how to fight?” he asked, waving the pistol around, “ because, when I’m done with you, I am going to find him, kill him and wipe every last Jones halfbreed from existence!”

“Over my dead body!” Brennan rasped, forcing his change in the blink of an eye. The light grey wolf leapt through the air, black patches around his eyes like a bandit mask, jaws snapping together as he attempted to reach Walsh. There was almost no time to react, Walsh squeezing the trigger as soon as Brennan’s feet left the ground, the crack of the gun echoing through the house.

Brennan let out a yelp, his wolf body stopping mid air and falling to the ground like a stone. Killian felt his entire body go cold, the whole scene playing out in slow motion as his father’s body hit the floor and Walsh fled through a door at the back of the room. The narrow passage was like a secret tunnel into the next room and as he squeezed through the gap, he dropped his gun. It clattered to the ground but was soon forgotten over the whining wolf at Killian’s feet.

“Dad! No!” Killian cried out, rushing to his father’s side. He slid down to his knees, tearing the jacket from his back as Brennan changed back to human, his naked form quaking on the dusty floorboards. Killian covered his father with his jacket and attempted to make him more comfortable, bundling the man into his arms like a babe and ignoring the way blood stained his hands. “Come on, stay with me.”

“You called me Dad,” Brennan smiled, looking up at his son with a glassy stare. His eyes were vacant, void of the colour they had once held so vividly, and Killian heard a rasp from his father’s chest.

“And I will again, just hold on, can you do that for me?” Killian clutched his father’s body harder, pulling him closer to his body. Brennan groaned, the twist of his body causing him pain. “Somebody help!” Killian called into the room, quickly scanning for anyone who could help him but finding them all alone.

“Killian,” Brennan muttered, clutching his son’s arm and drawing his attention. Killian looked down, the paleness of his father’s face a stark contrast to his black hair.

“No, don’t try to talk. Somebody will come,” Killian reassured his father, but he didn’t believe the words himself.

“I want you to know-” Brennan’s words were cut off by a hacking cough, blood dribbling from his mouth and down the side of his face. Killian’s hand hovered over his father’s face, ready to dab at the trickle of blood down in his father’s beard. He was unsure what to do, how to save him, and his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of losing the man in his arms.

“I know,” Killian smiled weakly. “I love you too.”

“Tell Liam,” Brennan rasped, and when he inhaled, his chest sounded hollow. The bullet had gone through a lung, possibly something much worse, and he was drowning in his own blood. “Tell Liam, I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to tell him yourself, just hold on.” Killian reached under his jacket and pressed his hand to his father’s wound, the tiny, circular hole oozing crimson on every one of Brennan’s breaths.

“I wish-” he gasped on a ragged breath.

“What, Dad, what?” Killian asked him eagerly, desperate to hear his voice a little while longer.

“I wish I was half the wolf you’ve grown to be, my boy,” Brennan coughed, his words but a whisper. His hand found the side of Killian’s prickly face and traced the apple of his cheek with a serene smile. “You’re just like your mother,” he told Killian softly before expelling his last breath, his hand falling back down to Killian’s lap as his smile faded.

“No, father, no!” Killian cried without pause, his words quick and panicked. “Don’t leave me again! Not again,” he whispered through tears, his father’s lifeless body heavy in his arms.

Killian had convinced himself he would never love his father. He had grown up believing that the man had left his mother, breaking her heart, for himself and nothing else. Killian now knew he was wrong, and his father was willing to sacrifice even more for those he loved, including his own life. Killian pulled his father’s suddenly heavy body towards him even harder and cried. Hot, fat tears streamed down his face and dripped onto Brennan’s head tucked under his chin. Killian was sure his wails could be heard throughout the house, but still, no one came.

The sound of a frustrated growl coming from the next room pulled his attention away from his father, and fuelled with a new anger for Walsh, the wolf who had taken and tried to take everything from him. Killian let his father’s body slip from his grasp and pushed himself to his feet. He took a long, deep breath, wiping at the tears wetting his face, and ignoring the discarded gun as he pushed himself through the gap and into the next room.

“Fuck!” Walsh growled, kicking the door that was locked from the outside. It was trapping him in the room; there was no other way out except back through the other room where he really did not want to be. A noise from behind him made him freeze and spin around, forehead beaded with sweat and eyes wide with a newfound fear for the young wolf that had appeared.

Killian was different. The blue of his eyes was replaced with black, his previous hues as soulless as the devil. Walsh swallowed hard, clutching his arm tighter to his hunched frame as he panted for breath. For the first time in his life, he was the scared, cornered prey of a predator hell bent on revenge. Killian’s nostrils flared a little and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, the tips of his ears pink with anger.

Killian surged forward across the last remaining foot between them, and grabbed the lapels of Walsh’s jacket. He hoisted Walsh into the air, the wolf shying away from his gaze and flinching with the expectation of a strike. Walsh’s one good arm covered his head, instinctively trying to protect himself, and he couldn’t stop the whimper that tumbled from his mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, I was just following orders!” Walsh snivelled, shaking in Killian’s firm grip.

“Orders to tear apart my family?!” Killian roared, his face inches from Walsh’s as he gave him a shake. “Orders to have my mate!” Walsh flinched even harder, pinching his eyes closed as Killian’s breath heated his face. Killian’s grip tightened on the fabric of Walsh’s jacket, twisting the material in his fists and pulling Walsh even closer to him. “Orders to kill my father?” he added darkly.

“No!” Walsh objected firmly. “No, no, no, no,” he shook his head from side to side, the sting of tears in his eyes. “He turned on me! I was just defending myself! I didn’t mean anything I said,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know that, right?”

Killian took a long breath, loosening his grip on Walsh’s jacket. The other wolf took a breath and sighed thankfully, his body relaxing a little as Killian set him back on the floor and let him lower his hand.

“Just his orders,” Walsh said slowly, nodding in understanding. “You don’t know what he’s like. It was follow the orders or die, Jones, what would you have done?”

Killian wasn’t sure what Walsh was trying to achieve by humanizing his so called orders. Emma had told him all about James, the twin to her father and a lion with a rather large thorn in his oversized, powerful paw. Killian expected no less than brutality from James, but after seeing the sadistic side of the Neverland beta, he thought Walsh would put up more of a fight.

“You’re right,” Killian told him calmly, his voice eerily level headed. Walsh looked at him confused, watching Killian’s hands release the edges of his jacket and slowly flatten out the creases. “What would I know?”

“Exactly!” Walsh grinned excitedly. “You’ve never been a part of a pack, followed an Alpha,” he added quickly.

“Of course,” Killian agreed, a tranquillity falling over him. “Pack loyalty is of the utmost importance.”

“See! I knew you would understand!” Walsh screeched excitedly, his one good arm reaching out to pat Killian on the shoulder.

“What I understand is your idea of loyalty is to follow pack law without question. Not because you’re afraid of the consequences if you don’t, but because deep down you like the reprehensible things your Alpha makes you do.” Killian rasped, looking at the spot on his shoulder where Walsh’s filthy touch had made his skin crawl. “You take pride in serving your own brand of darkness, but are too much of a coward to do so in your own name, so you disguise it as loyalty. You’re a weak wolf. Weak, pathetic, and I pity you.”

“So… you aren’t going to kill me?” Walsh whimpered hopefully, trying to gauge Killian’s expression.

Killian stepped back, watching his feet as he moved and then extended his hand out to Walsh. For a second, Walsh looked confused, straightening his back from his hunched position and eyeing Killian’s olive branch suspiciously. Killian nudged his head towards his hand, giving Walsh a nod, and with a small smile, Walsh reached out with his good arm and shook Killian’s hand. No sooner had his hand touched Killian’s, than the young wolf’s fingers wrapped around his palm and crushed it in a vice like grip, pulling him forward on unsteady feet until Killian was in his face again.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” Killian growled menacingly. “Because my idea of loyalty to pack law is to protect those I love, regardless of orders or the price it might cost me.” Walsh’s mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as he tried to pull his hand free, sure Killian was breaking every bone in his fingers from his grasp. “And if killing you is that price,” Killian added, the darkness back in his eyes. “I am more than willing to pay it.”

Before he had time to object any further, Walsh felt the splitting pain through his skull as Killian headbutted him, holding onto his hand ever tighter so he couldn’t shy away from the assault. Walsh cried out, his eyes springing with tears as the force of Killian’s forehead hitting his nose broke the skin wide open and triggered a stream of blood from both his nostrils. Walsh had no time to even cry out before Killian pulled his arm so hard he felt his shoulder pop, and met the momentum of his body with another headbutt.

“That was for my father,” Killian growled, Walsh’s dislocated arm limp in his grasp.

He took a step back, lining up his next shot, which was a firm, heavy booted kick to Walsh’s crotch. The sound Walsh made as Killian’s boot connected with his balls was high pitched and like a trapped animal, the squeak in the back of his throat barely audible. Walsh crumpled to the floor, sinking to his knees and unable to grab at his throbbing testicles because of his useless arms, shaking from the pain radiating up into his belly.

“That was for thinking you could touch Emma,” Killian spat, his jaw clenched with the mere thought of anyone defiling his mate.

Killian reached out and grabbed Walsh by the throat, his fingertips digging into the straining chords of his neck. The muscles in his forearms rippled with the strain, but Killian squeezed until he heard the deep, grunting gasp of a breath and Walsh’s eyes flew open and met his in a plea of forgiveness.

“And this,” Killian paused, increasing the pressure on Walsh’s trachea. The older wolf began to wriggle in his grip but Killian didn’t let up, the tiny red pin prick dots of petechial haemorrhaging appearing in the whites of Walsh’s eyeballs. “This is for my car,” Killian rasped gravely, closing his hand around Walsh’s throat until he felt the spongy tissue and muscles of his trachea give out under his crushing grip.

Walsh went blue before he even hit the floor, his body unable to hold its own weight any longer as he struggled for breath. He rolled onto his side, broken arm and hand awkwardly clawing at his neck where Killian had left dark purple bruises in his wake. Walsh gasped, the deep, croaking sound he made as he struggled for air signifying his end. His larynx and windpipe were crushed, damaged beyond repair causing muscle spasms to close off Walsh’s airway and slowly suffocate him.

Killian simply watched as the wolf at his feet writhed, legs kicking out wildly, and boot soles scraping the wooden floor. Wide eyed and full of fear, Walsh’s ability to swallow disappeared and he began to drool, saliva mixing with the blood that already coated his lips from his broken nose. He caught Killian’s gaze, eye flicking from side to side as his brain began to shut down, remnant muscle twitches all that was soon left when his chest ceased to rise and fall.

Killian held his breath for what felt like an age, staring at Walsh’s body as it continued to twitch even after death. He finally took a step backwards, stopping only when his back hit the wall of books behind him, and then his legs gave out and he fell to the floor. Killian had imagined he would feel different, that taking a life would sate the beast inside of him and he would finally be able to set aside the hunger that had plagued him since he had come of age. Only, it hadn’t, and now all he felt was a numbing coldness at the realisation maybe Walsh was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all?

“Killian?”

At first he thought he was dreaming, the long buzz in his ears almost overpowering the sound of his name. He blinked, slowly and deliberately, unable to stop the image of Walsh’s dead body from invading his thoughts. There was no blood on his hands, but Killian felt like there was, and he lifted them closer to his face to inspect his digits.

“Killian? Can you hear me?” Emma’s voice was clearer now and he lifted his head to see her crouched in front of him. One hand was on his knee, fingers gripping the joint for balance, whilst the other was planted firmly on the scruff on his cheek.

When he blinked and rolled his eyes in her direction, she smiled and he felt a warmth wash over him. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, just a strangled sound that sounded like an apology.

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him softly, moving her weight so that she was in between Killian and Walsh. “Come back to me.” She blocked his view, cupping his head in her hands and tilting it back so he was looking at her and not the corpse behind her. She smiled again, the corners of her mouth ticking into a smooth line that gave Killian instant comfort. “What happened?” She pried tentatively, thumbs stroking his cheek bones and coaxing him back to her.

“I killed him.” Killian blinked again, raising his eyebrows in disbelief of his own words. He frowned, confused for a second, but when Emma gave his head a gentle shake and her eyes met his again, he knew he had no reason to be. Her eyes were filled with love and nothing else, and Killian knew that whatever he told her would not matter a single bit. “He killed my father, and I killed him.” A single tear rolled down Killian’s cheek and was lost under the pad of Emma’s thumb.

She quickly brushed it away, and he finally gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?” Emma asked him again.

He shook his head. “I thought it would feel different, to take a life,” Killian began, his hand finding the smooth skin of her inner wrist and tracing over the bulge of her veins lovingly. He wanted to protect her, by any means necessary, and when Walsh had threatened that notion, Killian had been unable to hold back the darkness within himself any longer. “I thought-”

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him gently. “You thought all of the hatred you had for him would disappear, but it didn’t.”

“Yes,” Killian shook his head, his breath hitching on a sob. “And I still feel like I’m not the one in control anymore.” Killing Walsh had opened a dark door for Killian, and he felt like the hollowness that enveloped him was sure to swallow him whole. “I can’t take it back,” he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. “It’s free, Emma. The bloodlust inside of me is free and I’m scared I won’t be able to control it.”

Emma’s heart broke. Killian had been raised by a human, with humans. For all intents and purposes, he was a human who just happened to be able to shift into the form of a wolf. There were many things he needed to learn, and there would be some adjustments, but whether human or wolf, Emma knew that Killian knew exactly how to love. The love he had for her was the strongest, fated by the stars, and Emma had no doubts he would learn to control his impulsive inner wolf and not lose an ounce of love for her in the process.

It would make him a wolf to be feared and a man to be cherished.

Emma leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss. She let her mouth linger on his until she felt the quiver in his lower lip stop completely, and then stroked the hair of his beard at the top of his cheeks with her thumbs, holding his face to hers even harder. She felt him relax, his whole body expelling all tension, and he hummed contently in the back of his throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asked softly, breaking the kiss and resting her forehead against his.

Killian let out a breathy laugh, sniffing and wrinkling his nose against hers. “Not really,” he whispered, parroting the words she had told him when she had first told him of her arranged marriage.

“Excellent,” Emma smirked, repeating his earlier retort. “Neither do I.”

“We are going to be okay,” Emma sighed happily, rolling her forehead against his as she nodded.

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “We will.” It didn’t matter what was going on inside of his head, Killian knew that with Emma by his side, he would be just fine.

“At least now we know that one of the names on the tombstones from our dream was my father,” Killian added idly, the sadness in his voice evident. He let Emma help him to his feet, brushing his hands down the front of his jeans, but as soon as he had finished his words she gasped in shock. “What?” Killian asked concerned. “What is it?”

“What if the names are not ours, but the names of our fathers?” Emma asked.

Killian looked at her expression, worry etched into every line of her face. “That would mean-”

“We have to find my father,” Emma said firmly, tugging his arm as she headed towards the now unlocked door through which she had previously entered. “We have to find him now.”

#Alii dimidium Lunam #werewolf au #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs smut #temporary dog au #ch 23 #killian jones #emma swan #david nolan #graham humbert #will makes an appearence #mary Margret blanchard #james nolan #walsh #felix #every one is getting what is coming to them #i think y'all are going to enjoy this bit

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everything-person · 11 months ago

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Kazoos Advent Calendar

@kazoosandfannypacks Day

I did my best but heres todays gift.

Killian was sprinting down the street. He was quiet literally running late.

'David is going to kill me. If Liam doesn't get his hands on me first.' Killian thought to himself.

He turned a sharp corner. Running straight into something. All of a sudden Killian was on the ground and wet. Before he could right himself and see just what he ran into, the what or rather who spoke up.

"Really?"

He looked up to see a beautiful woman. Her gentle blonde curls pulled artfully into a messy ponytail, wearing fitted dark blue jeans knee high boots a red leather jacket on top of a light grey shirt which now was covered in a rather large brown stain. Her head turned down looking at her shirt now covered in the drink she was holding.

Killian looked down and sure enough he was wearing a similar stain on his shirt.

"Bloody hell," Killian whispered.

This caused the womans glare to turn from her shirt to him.

Killian began to stand as he said, "I am so sorry lass. Please allow me to pay for your drink."

"Watch where you're going next time." She muttered as she pushed past him.

Killian would've went after her if it wasn't for his phone beginning to buzz in his pocket. With one more glance toward the blonde he continued on his way.

Moments later he arrived at Storybrookes town hall. Bursting through the doors he ran down the hall before coming to a halt. Looking all around trying to find where he was suppose to go.

"Killian!"

He turned to the shout to find his brother, Liam.

"You're late," Liam stated as Killian made his way over to him. "What happened to you?"

"Be glad, I'm here."

"Come on lets get you ready."

Some time later Davids wife dressed in her holiday best stood in front of an anxious crowd.

"Hello everyone! Thank you all for patiently waiting and for all your contributions to our toys for tots and food pantry. All toys and food will be sent to families in need this holiday season. There are some snacks along with hot chocolate and water courtesy of Storybrookes finest Grannys Diner feel free to help yourself. There are also plenty of crafts and games to be done." Mary Margret paused looking to her left and right before saying, "Did anyone else here that?"

This caused the crowd to also begin looking around.

"Huh? I swore I just heard a clatter." On that cue sleigh bells started to ring out through the space. "Does anyone else hear belles?"

The kids in the audience all yelled yes.

"Do you know what that means?" Mary Margret replied.

The over the speakers was heard 'Santa Claus is coming to town.' Killian came around the corner dressed as the man himself, Santa Claus. Waving at all the excited children letting out a ho ho ho he came to stand next to Mary Margret.

"Hello Mr Claus! Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit us."

Through his beard in his best Santa Claus voice Killian said, "Well Ms Blanchard I had some elves running around telling me how great the children of Storybrooke have been this year. So I thought I might stop by and personally ask them what they wanted for Christmas. Would you mind helping me?"

"I would love too."

As Mary Margret gave instructions on how pictures with Santa would work the curtain behind them opened to reveal an intricate display with a grand chair for Santa to sit with enough room for a child to sit next to him should they decline sitting on his lap.

The children all lined up with their parents and one by one came up to speak with Santa Claus. Mary Margret assisted in introductions with shy children and helped take pictures should the parents want to join in. She even helped when one little girl told him insisted that if he was the real Santa he should know her name, mouthing the name behind the child.

Mary Margret approached him, “You’re doing great Killian. Just 3 more kids and then your done.”

Not allowing him to speak she ran off the get the next two kids. A brother and sister pair.

“Hello there. What’s your names?”

“My names Ava and this is my brother Nicholas.” The girl, Ava, spoke for her and her brother. The young lad looking nervously down at his shoes.

“I’m glad to meet you both. Would you care for a picture?”

They nodded and stood on either side of him as their father took their picture.

Killian turned to Ava and asked, “Now Ava what would you like for Christmas?”

“I’d like a tool box. So I can help my dad.”

Killian smiled at the young girl, “That’s a very nice thought. A tool box can be very helpful; it can also be a way to be creative. You look like a very smart girl. I’m sure you’d do wonders with a gift like that.”

The girl smile so bright at him as he turned to the boy.

“Now Nicholas what would you like for Christmas?”

The boy continued to look at his feet shuffling as he did. He looked like he had something to say but was afraid to say it.

Killian turned back to the boy sister, “Ava would you be so kind and go to your father. I think Nicholas and I need to have a word in private.”

Ava looked at her brother then her father than back again before nodding and making her way to her dad. Turning around only once to look back at Santa, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“Now Nicholas it’s just you and me. Do you have something to tell me, lad?”

Never looking up from his feet he muttered, “I’m on the naughty list.”

“Oh and what makes you think that?”

“I don’t listen to my dad sometimes. I goof off too much. I get in fights with Ava. And I eat too many sweets.” Nicholas said in a huff.

“Ah I see,” Killian said almost to himself before continuing, “Nicholas can I share a secret with you?”

The boy pick up his head only slightly before nodding.

“I sometimes sneak a cookie or two before and after dinner.”

The boys eyes went wide at Santa’s declaration so Killian continued.

“I also sometimes get in arguments with my elves. I forget to help Mrs Claus around the house. And I am a bit of a goof myself. Now do you think I’m naughty?”

Nicholas shook his head so hard Killian was sure it may come loose.

“Just because we do naughty things every once in a while doesn’t make us naughty. Now as I said earlier I had some of my best elves watching over Storybrooke. They did tell me of naughty behavior from everyone but not one person came back as naughty.”

The boy was now looking Santa in the eye. His eyes sparkling at Santa’s words.

“I can tell your a mischievous lad but you are a kind one, most Nicholases are,” Killian added with a wink.

Nicholas face finally broke out into a smile. He threw himself in Killians arms and Killian held the boy until he let go.

“Now what would you like for Christmas?”

After telling Killian he wanted for Christmas Nicholas scurried off to join his small family. Killian waved them off as they walked off to join the rest of the celebration. Before turning to greet the last child he was to see.

Mary Margret held the hand of a little boy with brown hair and a round face. As they approached him the little boy slowly let go of the older woman’s hand, picking up his pace as if he were on a mission.

“Hi Santa”

“Well hello there! What might your name be?”

The lad stuck out his hand, “I’m Henry.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Henry.” Killian took the boys hand and gently shook it, “You have a very good hand shake.”

“Thank you,” Henry said letting go of the man’s hand.

“Would you care to sit on my lap?”

“No, thank you.”

“That’s quite alright. Why don’t you take a seat right here next to me?”

Henry obliged and sat down. They turned to look and see David and Mary Margret standing there to take a picture of Henry with Santa. Once they singled they had the picture Killian turned to the lad sitting next to him and asked, “what would you like for Christmas?”

“I don’t want anything.”

Killian tilted his head, “Really? Why’s that?”

“Well I don’t want anything for me.”

“Oh?”

“I want you to help my mom.”

“Your mum?”

Henry nodded, “She works really hard. She does everything she can for me and she helps whoever she can.”

Killian smiled, “Your mum sounds like a wonderful woman. Is that her over there?” He nodded his head over the where Mary Margret and David where waiting for the lad.

“No. My moms not here right now. But she will be soon. She’s always working or helping someone. And I just want her to be happy. She says she’s fine but I see she’s tired and sometimes she seems sad and mad. So I want you to help her be happy.”

“I understand. That’s a hard present to bring down the chimney but I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to ask your help with this.”

Henry leaned forward to listen carefully as to what Santa was about to tell him.

“It’s okay for your mom to be mad or sad sometimes. It’s not good for her to bottle that all up. So I need you anytime you see her and she looks upset just to hug her and tell her you love and appreciate her. I know for a fact if you do that whatever bad feelings or thoughts she maybe having will melt away. You’d be surprise how happy you can make her.”

Henry gave him a big grin and nodded before running off.

Killian waved a goodbye to everyone before disappearing behind the scenes to change into regular clothes. His brothers wife was kind enough to get him a set of clean clothes. After his change and a quick bathroom break he joined the rest of the festivities.

Mary Margret quickly located him and enveloped him in a hug.

“Killian you were perfect! Thank you again so much for doing this,” She said pulling away.

“I’m glad I could help. I only wish I could help grant some of the children’s wishes.”

“Well you know the holidays are all about granting wishes and miracles,” David piped up.

A bought of laughter turned Killians attention to a table of kids. He saw the lad, Henry, amongst the table.

“I wanted to ask you,” Killian pointed over to the boy, “who is that boy?”

Mary Margret followed Killian finger to see who he was pointing to, “Oh Henry?”

Killian nodded.

“He’s our, for all intents and purposes, nephew. His mother is my best friend and is like a sister to David.”

“Where is she?”

“Why do you ask,” David asked sternly.

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t met her yet,” Mary Margret expressed.

“Mom!”

Their attention was turn toward Henry again as they watched him run across the room to the door where stood the blonde woman Killian had ran to stood. The boy ran into her arms and they collided into warm embrace.

“There she is, Emma Swan.”

“What about Henry’s father?”

“It’s just her and Henry. She works at the sheriffs station. But she also does a little bit of everything around the town.” Mary Margret informed him.

“We try to help her out when we can. But she’s can be stubborn and prides herself on being an independent woman,” David spoke up.

Killian hummed thinking of the little boys wish. If he was to make the lads wish come true it maybe more difficult then he originally thought. How do you help someone that doesn’t believe they need help?

#kazoosadventcalendar #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #emma swan #killian jones #henry mills #ouat #once upon a time

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cianmars · 8 years ago

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Kiddo: Chapter 11. Fanfiction.net

David and Mary Margaret both slept fitfully, Emma had tossed and turned a little but was too exhausted mentally and physically to wake up, with every turn David and Mary Margaret woke up. Emma and Mary Margaret both settled a little better as she cuddled up to Mary Margaret but David still lay on the cusp of waking as soon as Emma moved closer to the centre of the bed again David’s eyes opened watching her. He wasn’t sure how but somehow she seemed even younger than she had before.

When the first curse broke, and he saw Emma for the first time as his daughter, his eyes had automatically searched her face, trying to see the baby she had once been as he raced through their castle. He had just about been able to make it out, but mostly he saw that his daughter was an imperfect copy of his wife, yet perfect in her own way, a perfect Emma.

But now it was clear for him to see the baby she had once been, the shape of her chin as a newborn was easier to make out on baby Emma, and the shape of her face, the shape of her nose, even her ears. It was still easy to see Mary Margaret in her, and she was still perfect. She always had been.

As David watched her Emma, she moved a little further away from Mary Margaret’s arm so she was completely by herself in the centre of the bed, she curled up tighter in a ball with only her broken arm sticking out. David was brought out of his thoughts as she began to whimper and curl closer in on herself. He felt his blood boil as she whimpered. He was a second away from climbing out of the bed and going and hunting down the people who had made his little girl so scared she had nightmares. He was sure they would be more scared of him with a sword. He could feel the anger like fire burning through his body, like a beast he was desperately trying to restrain, something both unnatural and a force of nature.

He took a couple of deep breaths before he gently stroked his hand through Emma’s hair, he didn’t want her to wake up or somehow know how angry he was, as he knew that she would probably interpret it as anger towards her or something she did. He felt his anger dissipate a little as she uncurled and moved slightly towards him. He continued to stroke her hair trying to calm her so she wouldn’t wake. Emma’s next movement was more pronounced that her others had been, her whimpering quietened down as she cuddled right up to David, half lying on his chest.

David’s anger disappeared completely as her head rested on his chest, her golden curls curled even more dramatically after her tossing and turning. One hand rested lightly on the back of her head, as it always did when he hugged her, while the other gently stroked her back. Emma’s stopped making noises and fell back into a deep sleep. David’s hand drifted over the raised line which Mary Margaret had told him about. How could anyone hurt a child? He held her tighter and felt the steady movements of her chest against his as she took steady breaths in her sleep.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as her hand held tightly to his t-shirt, “I’m here, daddy’s here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while daddy and mommy are here.” He knew she was asleep so couldn’t hear him, and he knew he was talking to her as though she was younger, but it just felt right, as though he needed to say it. He felt a hand on his own and he stopped rubbing Emma’s back and looked at his wife.

Mary Margaret gave David a sympathetic smile, she had heard everything, naturally. She had woken up as Emma had started to whimper and head towards David, she didn’t mind that Emma wanted her dad, even in her sleep. Despite how many protests Emma would make if she said it, Emma was a daddy’s girl, through and through.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” David whispered to his wife, assuming that it was his whispering to Emma that had woke her. He moved his right arm up for her to move closer, which she did straight away, as she cuddled into his side her hand carefully stroked Emma’s curls.

“You didn’t.” Her eyes finally looked away from Emma to David. “It’s almost time for Neal’s three am screeching.” She joked lovingly, despite the sleep exhaustion they already faced with him, it was plain to see that neither of them minded being woken every few hours by their son. “And I heard her.” Her eyes fell to where Emma’s left hand was holding tight to David’s pyjama t-shirt, she smiled a little, it was an adorable sight – their tiny daughter cuddled on top of David’s chest and holding tight to him, she too was aware of how young she looked when she slept.

“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” David said reading her mind. “She probably would have had me wound around her little finger.”

Mary Margaret chuckled quietly so she wouldn’t wake Neal or Emma. “She already does.”

David chuckled in response but didn’t disagree. He carried on watching her. “I like the yellow cast.” There was a smile at his face, not at Emma needing a cast, but at the fact it was a yellow one in the shade of her bug. He knew that they should both probably be trying to get more sleep but neither could make themselves miss this moment. Plus unspoken words hung in the air, but neither could bring themselves to say them, even as they tiptoed closer to the subject.

“She chose it herself.” Mary Margaret smiled. She saw David raise an eyebrow a little surprised. “Well, the nurse sorting the cast out for her asked her what colour she wanted, I don’t think she realised how old Emma really is, when she started to list off the colours I saw Emma’s face light up a little. She looked at me as though I would stop her from getting a coloured one.” Her face fell a little at that. The habitual look behind Emma’s eyes as she sat on Mary Margaret’s lap, refusing to be apart from her mother in the hospital. She really did seem like a little kid then.

David shook his head, why would anyone stop a child from choosing a coloured cast, what was the harm in it? It seemed to him to be an act purely to upset a child. “We have to talk to her.” He said it quietly but it was not a surprising statement to Mary Margaret.

“I know.” Her statement meant more than that. It was a shared dread, and guilt, but a tone of inevitability. It wouldn’t be easy for them, and would be even harder for Emma, but by tomorrow they would know about Emma’s past. She pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek, her little face scrunched up a little but she stayed sleeping peacefully, an action she shared with David. She heard Neal start to fuss, she pressed a kiss to David’s lips then got out of bed to feed her youngest, before he woke up his big sister.

They both knew that it would be hard for Emma to tell them about her past, but they had to know, for all of their sakes.

In the wooden trunk in the living room Emma’s thick medical file lay forgotten.

*OUAT*

Emma woke up feeling a lot calmer than she had the previous morning waking up, or the night before, she had a sense of having had bad dreams while she had slept but they seemed to have gone away. She felt a shiver run down her and she cuddled closer to her pillow. No. Not a pillow. She fought her sleepy eyes until she eventually opened them.

“Shit.” Her mouth formed the word but no sound came out when she realised that her comfy pillow was in fact David. Her eyes shot up to his face as her body went rigid, her fight or flight instinct seemed to be in overdrive in her younger body, she scan David’s face for any sign of annoyance, anger, even awkwardness or disgust. There was none.

David smiled down at her with a look of pure undiluted love. He had tried to move out from under her when Mary Margaret had woke up for the second time with Neal, but Mary Margaret had sent him a look that told him which told him that he didn’t need to feel bad for not getting up with Neal, he was already looking after their other child. Plus Emma had made grumpy sounding noises of protest and held tighter to him until he wrapped his arms back around her. He carefully stroked his hand down her back, he was already aware of where not to touch as it would be painful, and where she was comforted by. “Morning, kiddo.”

Emma relaxed a little, a blush still coloured her cheeks, but she didn’t try to move off of him not unless he asked or made her, she was comfortable where she was. “Hey.” She croaked out, she gave a little, slightly painful, cough to get the sleep out of her voice. “Sorry.” She mumbled.

“Don’t worry, it meant I didn’t have to get up with your brother.” He joked to make her feel more comfortable though his tone told her that he really didn’t mind. “Plus it’s adorable.”

Emma hid her head against his chest, she could smell the faint smell of his aftershave and laundry detergent. When she spoke it was into his chest. “I’m not adorable.”

“Uh huh.” There was disbelief in is tone and a smile evident even without looking at his face.

“I’m not. I’m a saviour. I have magic. I’m a badass.”

David snorted with laughter. He cuddled her tighter, seeing that she was clearly still sleepy, and she didn’t even try to move away. “Adorable.” He insisted teasingly.

Emma huffed but hid her smile against David’s chest. Her throat and chest still burned and she still felt freezing. Not to mention the slight pain in her back when she moved a certain way, and the sharp pain of her arm under the heavy cast.

David’s hand managed to get between his own chest and Emma’s head to feel her temperature, as though sensing all those things. He already knew that he would be met with her high temperature, he had felt it through his t-shirt since before she had even woke up, but both he and Mary Margaret hadn’t thought it would do too much harm to wait to give her medicine until she woke. He noticed that his wife wasn’t in the room still, though he was sure she would have heard him and Emma talking, he rolled his eyes with a smile when he realised she was purposely not there so he would be on medicine duty. “How are you feeling?”

“Meh.” Emma answered noncommittedly. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she was also way too stubborn to admit the truth, that this flu had really kicked her on her ass.

David gave a knowing nod. “We’ll get some medicine in you, we can just chill and watch movies today, if you like?”

Emma groaned. “Dad do I really have to-”

“Yup.” He cut her off, he smiled when she looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and a pout, her chin resting on his chest. “But I can make you chocolate chip pancakes before you have to take them…”

Emma bit her lip at his tone which dragged out the food name trying to tempt her. “Double chocolate?” She bargained.

David smirked, yeah he was definitely wound around that girl’s finger, he had been since before she was even born. “I think I can manage that.” He grinned as she held her little finger out to make sure he would make them without Mary Margaret convincing him to make something healthier. He went to go the same but paused before they shook. “But no trying to get out of taking the medicine.”

Emma rolled her eyes but shook their fingers. “Fine, but I’m still going to complain.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything different.” David noticed the slight moving of the curtain which signified that Mary Margaret was about to enter the room. He carefully moved Emma off of him, noting her slight look of disappointment, and climbed out the bed making sure she still had blankets wrapped around her.

“You play dirty, bandit.” David whispered jokingly as she started toward the bed to see Emma, there was a knowing smile on her face which showed her happiness at not having to convince Emma to take her medicine, that was David’s job this morning.

“I have no idea what you mean, Charming.” She replied sweetly taking more steps into the room.

*OUAT*

Emma couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when David moved her from where she had been lying on him. She frowned a little and tried to keep a pout from her face. She felt the bed dip down next to her, when she looked up she saw her mother’s smiling face. She smiled back, then looked down at her cast.

Mary Margaret placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder making Emma look up at her with big green eyes. “How are you feeling?” She asked kindly, she didn’t mention their trip to the hospital the previous night and her injuries, though they both knew that there would be some talk about that at some point.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, she watched her mom raise an eyebrow then patiently wait for Emma to answer. Emma sighed. “Everything hurts.” She admitted, she felt her lip tremble a little and grew frustrated at herself for feeling so self-pitying. She looked down into her lap with tears in her eyes. She suddenly felt two arms hugging her gently but securely.

Mary Margaret couldn’t help but hold her tight. She could tell that she was feeling miserable and finally admitting to herself that she was ill. She almost wanted to put off the talk she and David were going to have with Emma, she just looked too little and poorly to have it, but deep down she knew this was needed and that Emma was still a grown up. Plus everything was likely playing on Emma’s mind just as much as it was on hers. But they would have breakfast first, before they spoke of anything else, especially as it might make Emma close up – then it would be even harder trying to get her to take her medicine. Though Mary Margaret had something else she need to do too. She pressed a kiss to the top of Emma’s head then moved back a little.

Emma frowned. What was it with her parents moving her when she was comfortable today? She didn’t even notice that she wouldn’t normally feel like this, she didn’t care, it was instinctual; she wanted her parents.

“I have to put the cream on your back,” she noticed Emma start to pout and the slight fear in her eyes, “it will be quick and it’ll help it get better quicker. That way it’ll stop hurting sweetie.” Emma nodded so Mary Margaret carefully manoeuvred Emma so she was led on her front flat on the bed.

Emma seemed to detach from herself as Mary Margaret lifted her top and vest, as though she was trying to avoid talking or thinking about it. She was as gentle as she could be as she rubbed the cream onto Emma’s back but Emma still wiggled a little trying to get away from the cold cream. She managed to get the cream onto Emma’s back as quickly and gently as possible, she didn’t want to delay it being done, especially as Mary Margaret seeing it seemed to make Emma behave differently.

She pulled back down the vest and the dinosaur pyjama top with a small smile, they really were cute, plus Emma hadn’t protested them yet though that might have been because of the events and things which transpired the previous night. Emma’s small voice brought her out of her thoughts, and the way she spoke reminded her of the shyer children she taught at the school, who had rehearsed what they were planning on saying several times in their head. She had never heard Emma use that tone.

“Can I get out of bed?” Emma wasn’t sure why she was feeling so timid, she had never had a reason to feel like this around her parents, she tried to shake herself out of it and remind herself that she was safe, but it didn’t work. “Please?”

Mary Margaret hid a frown at Emma’s tone, as though she was waiting for something bad to happen. “Of course you can.” She smiled, she couldn’t refuse Emma right now, plus when they had the talk it might be better to have it away from the bed. She had read articles on having conversations while Emma had slept and they said to leave certain spaces away from bad conversations. “But you still have to rest, and you have to go back here later on.” She added, because Emma was still ill after all, and although she didn’t phrase Emma’s return to the bed as a nap Emma would need to sleep some more a little later on to help her get better.

Emma didn’t seem to mind that as she just smiled and started to climb out of the bed, she wobbled a little, clearly still dizzy from the flu. She was tempted to make Emma get back in the bed, but she had seemed so hopeful when she had asked if she could get out of the bed, she didn’t want to go back on her words straight away. “Here let me help you.” She picked Emma up and started to carry her out of the room.

“Seriously?” Emma raised her eyebrow, though both she and Mary Margaret knew it was a token protest, she cuddled a little closer to her mother – for safety purposes, she told herself, she didn’t want to be dropped. They got to the table just as David was plating up breakfast. He had made plain pancakes with strawberries for him and Mary Margaret, but in Emma’s place was double chocolate pancakes topped with chocolate sauce. She heard Mary Margaret tut at David as she placed Emma onto the chair topped with cushions, David winked at her and Emma grinned back, Mary Margaret obviously didn’t mind to much as she cut up the pancakes for Emma so Emma could use her one good hand to eat them.

*OUAT*

Mary Margaret had eaten her breakfast quicker than David and Emma so she could feed Neal again. David finished after her but stayed sat at the table with Emma, making casual conversation, once Emma had finished David had laughed at her then wiped the chocolate sauce from around her mouth with a napkin, making her give him a playful glare. David made Emma take her medicines, which she did, though with the complaining she had promised.

Emma tried to stand down from the table but found herself feeling dizzy again, David scooped her up straight away, though at least he headed towards the couch instead of the bedroom again. Mary Margaret was sat on the couch watching Neal asleep in his Moses basket, that was she was watching him until David and Emma entered the room, David placed Emma down on the couch next to Mary Margaret who placed a cushion on Emma’s lap for her to rest her cast on, David sat down on the coffee table facing Emma.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” Mary Margaret’s voice was soft as she pushed a strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear.

Emma sighed. “I know.” She said quietly. Her parents weren’t the sort of people to leave things unsaid or alone not when something was needed, something slightly irritating when you were used to suppressing things like she was though she had to admit their way was more helpful, she could have done with someone like them when she was younger… she could have done with them when she was younger. She looked down at her yellow cast for a few seconds, she had never been allowed a coloured one when she was young, she finally looked up at Mary Margaret then David showing them that she was ready for them to ask her some questions.

Mary Margaret took Emma’s tiny left hand into hers, while David lay his hand on Emma’s knee, trying to support without overwhelming her. “Can you tell us how you got the marks on your arms? The scratches and bruises, and the cigarette marks.”

Emma had to admit that she was kind of impressed with Regina’s first curse then, she knew her mother had spotted the burns because she knew what they were from her teacher training, a curse and her fake teaching degree apparently making her a better teacher than most of the ones she had as a child. “They were from the foster home I would have been in at this age.” She looked down at her cast as she spoke. Squeezing her mom’s hand a little as she spoke. “I had a bedwetting problem, apparently it’s harder to acquire the skill when you’re constantly moving around, but my foster mother caught me trying to wash my sheets… she never took it too well…. The big hand bruise is from when I tried to run away from her when she caught me.”

David gently squeezed Emma’s knee, she looked up at him and he gave her a small and comforting smile. “Is that why you were trying to rush to wash the sheets last night?” She gave a small nod and he could tell she felt embarrassed and worried about the accident. “It’s okay Em, just let us know if something like that happens again, you shouldn’t have to change them by yourself and that bed’s too big for you to try.” He watched her eyebrow’s furrow in confusion but there was also a grateful look also, she clearly had never had people who didn’t make a big deal out of bedwetting, or have people insist on helping her. “How about this?” his hand left her knee to gently touch the cast on her arm before he placed it back on her knee. He saw her look of hesitation. “It’s okay, you can tell us, you don’t have to be scared Emma.” His voice was quiet and reassuring, as though he was talking to a small child, which seemed to be a better tone while talking to Emma about this as she was half clinging to Mary Margaret’s hand and looked so small and young.

Emma nodded though mostly to herself. She knew that if she really didn’t want to tell them they would understand, they wouldn’t make her tell them, and she did want to tell them it was just hard. She had expected this talk to happen but there was still a part of her, a small part, which was battling with the fight or flight response the mere idea of talking about her past brought out. “It was the foster home before the one I got the bruises in. The foster dad… he wasn’t nice… he used to drink a lot which only made him worse. He had a temper.” She squeezed her mom’s hand a little tighter, Mary Margaret squeezed it back gently, grounding her. “There was a couple of us being fostered by him and his wife, though neither actually cared about children, let alone foster kids. We only got small meals twice a day, but I had missed one of them as I had a meeting with my social worker. He had his friends over to watch the football, so I snuck downstairs to try and get a slice of bread to eat, I ate it quickly and tried to drink the juice too, but the glass was too heavy. I dropped it and it smashed on the floor. He came into the kitchen and started yelling, saying I was stealing his food and yelling names at me, he pushed me over and I fell onto my arm.” She didn’t add that she had never gotten it checked out, well not until the foster mom who had given her the bruises and other marks broke it again, she tried to tell the doctors but they didn’t really care.

“Oh Emma.” Mary Margaret sighed, her free hand covered her mouth, tears clouded her eyes but she could see well enough to tell that David had tears in his eyes too. “You should never have gone through that. You shouldn’t have had food withheld, or had your arm broken, or been in a home with such a horrible man.” She wrapped her arm around Emma and held her tight, after a couple of seconds David joined in. “I’m so sorry.”

Emma stayed wrapped in their arms for a little while, allow tears to roll down her own cheeks too, although eventually she moved back a little she stayed tucked into Mary Margaret’s side. “I hurt my back there too.” She told them quietly as David sat back down on the coffee table while wiping his eyes.

“Emma, if it’s too much to tell us right now, we understand.”

Emma shook her head at her father, if she didn’t say it now, she might never say it. “I can do it.” Her words were brave and a stark contrast to her tone. “I was in the same home, I was the youngest, I had an older foster sister and an older foster brother, my foster brother was a few years older than me but my foster sister was a teenager - just. I was staying up really late, my foster brother had leant me his glow in the dark watch he had told me that when the numbers all turned to zero I would be five years old, plus my foster mother had her television in her room on loud so I couldn’t sleep. The numbers had just hit zero when the television went off. I was about to fall asleep when I heard my foster sister crying in her bedroom, she was always nice to me and tried to look after me, so I went to see if she was okay. I got to the landing and saw my foster dad coming out from her room, she was crying really loudly, he hit me and told me to go back to bed, I argued because it sounded like she was really in pain…. Next thing I knew he had hit me really hard with his belt, so hard I fell down, and my back felt as though it was on fire.” Part way through speaking Emma had started to cry again, she didn’t say what her foster father had been doing in her foster sister’s room, but she was sure her parents could guess. She stared down at her cast as she spoke. “My foster sister tried to look after me, she stole some pharmacy supplies and tried to patch it up as best she could. I was at nursey school and had an accident, the teacher there had to help me change, she saw it and called the police and social services. We got taken away from that family that day. I don’t know what happened Alice and Zac though.”

“Oh Emma.” David and Mary Margaret breathed out her name at the same time, tears flooded from their eyes. In one swift motion David picked Emma up into his arms, he sat down in the place she had been sat with her on his lap, he held her tight with one arm, while the other wrapped around Mary Margaret who also wrapped an arm around Emma. The three sat crying with David and Mary Margaret tried to soothe Emma but they were doing all they could just by being there.

“I should have told someone about what had happened sooner, but my foster sister begged me not to, I think he had threatened her that something would happen to the rest of us if anyone found out.” Emma choked out eventually.

“It wasn’t your job to have to tell someone, baby,” Mary Margaret stroked tears from Emma’s cheek as David held them both close, “you were just a child. You should never have been placed in the care of someone like that, you shouldn’t have had to be put in that position.”

The three sat quietly for a while, the only sound was the occasional sniffling, as they all tried to control their crying. Which they couldn’t. David held tightly to Emma as though he was never planning on letting her go and Mary Margaret didn’t take her eyes off her. But they couldn’t change Emma’s past, even if she was now five years old, she wasn’t everything had already happened. There was nothing they could do to save that little girl from having to go through that.

“When I became a bails bonds person I check on him, to make sure he wasn’t hurting anyone else, he was already in prison.” She assured them as she cuddled against her father’s chest.

“We love you Emma.” David told her. “You’re a good person. I’m so, so, sorry you had to go through all of that.” David knew the ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ saying, but that was bullshit, no one deserves having to go through crap like Emma had – she was already and always would have been a strong person without having to go through abuse from an early age.

Emma started to cry again. She cuddled her head closely against David, her cast arm rested on her lap the pillow she had had lay abandoned on the floor, Mary Margaret sat next to David cuddled up while holding onto Emma’s good hand while stoking her hair. Soon Emma fell asleep cuddled up to her parents. David and Mary Margaret didn’t have to speak to know that they wouldn’t be putting Emma down that day, not even to sleep, maybe not ever again

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