#once upon a time ff

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x09 The Queen of Hearts

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my   rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump   start the muse again.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a   “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.    Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an   emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as   soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 1262

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

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Note: I know, I know.  This installment is more than twice the word count I limited myself to in these drabbles (making this clearly not a drabble), but I couldn’t end it with that first scene.  I just couldn’t!  We needed a little hope and inspiration after all!

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Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

Emma slumped down the rocky wall of Rumplestiltskin’s cell and settled on the ground, dropping her head as the utter futility of their situation washed over her.

For several minutes after Cora and Hook had left the cave, her anger had fueled her, giving her the strength to use her sword to bang away at the bars of their prison, to use brute force to try to get them the hell out of here.

If nothing else, it had been a good outlet for her aggression.

The absolute son of a bitch!

He’d betrayed her, betrayed them all, stolen the heart out of a princess’s chest for the sole purpose of manipulating them.  Who did that?

You betrayed him first, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

It was that voice that made the fight go out of her entirely.  Maybe if she hadn’t betrayed him, he would have continued to help them.  Maybe it would be Cora in this cell instead of them. He’d already shown himself to be endlessly resourceful.  Who’s to say she hadn’t picked the wrong side?

Not that she had any illusions that he was anything more than an absolute blood-thirsty mercenary, who would stoop to absolutely anything to get what he wanted.  No, she was right to not trust him.

Where she messed up was in trusting herself.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

He was right; she was useless.  What good had she ever been?  Yeah, she was the “savior”, but this cell, the scroll Rumple had written, proved it wasn’t anything special about her.  She was the savior because Rumple had made her the savior.  Now that she’d broken the curse she was indeed useless.

And even a man she’d just met could see it.  The two of them understood each other, after all.

Dried up. Dead. Useless. Much like you.

The thing is…he hadn’t meant it; not really.  Her superpower had not only flipped on at that phrase but sounded as loud as a five-alarm fire warning.  He’d been lashing out, trying to hurt her.

Because of how badly you hurt him.

The guilt bumped the hopelessness out of the way to take center stage.

He may have been lying his (smoking hot) ass off when he compared her to the bean, but his insistence that he wouldn’t have left her at the top of the beanstalk?  Yeah, that had been entirely sincere.  He’d trusted her, believed in her, put his life on the line for her, and she’d betrayed him.

Because I knew he’d screw me over the first chance he got!

Her superpower flared to life again.  That was a load of crap and she knew it.  She’d betrayed him, because she sensed she could trust him.  She sensed he could become something to her, something big and important and all encompassing, and she couldn’t go there again.  

And because of her fear, they were in the mess they were in now.

Mary Margaret continued talking about hope and optimism, insisting they would find a way out and get home, but truth be told, Emma was beginning to wonder if they’d all be better off if they just left her here.

She was, after all, dried up, dead and useless.

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

“Hey!”

Killian’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, the relief overwhelming.

He was under no illusions that he was anything more than a villain.  He’d done what he had to do to preserve his chance at revenge, aye, but he’d done so at a price that turned his stomach.

He’d never forget the squelching sound that accompanied his removal of Aurora’s heart.  He’d killed before, of course.  Killed, injured, maimed, manipulated, all of it.

But he’d never ripped out a heart.

The bile rose in his throat just thinking of it, visions of Milah swimming before his eyes.  What had he become in his quest to avenge her?

Still, as uncomfortable as ripping out Aurora’s heart had been, it had been nothing to the look in Swan’s eyes when he’d compared her to the dried-out bean. It was such a stupid and preposterous lie that he was surprised he’d been able to deliver it with a straight face.

She was anything but useless.  She was extraordinary.  He could see that even through the pain of her betrayal.

How could he truly blame her for her actions?  Was she not protecting herself just as he was? She was desperate to get back to her son after all.

The guilt deepened at that.  Killian had already separated one boy from his mother, and the guilt of that had eaten away at both Milah and him every day of their lives together.  What manner of man was he to break up another family?

It had been enough that he had almost almost changed his mind, almost defied Cora.

But that would have been suicide.  And a suicide from which nothing useful could have come.

Given that, he’d tamped down his guilt and left with Cora, hoping beyond hope that Swan would find some way home, that her resourcefulness would get her out of that blasted cave.

And so, when the princess brigade had shown up on the scene, shooting the compass from Cora’s hand and rushing them like a troop of avenging angels, his most predominant emotion was relief.

Cora ordered him to get the compass, and he’d turned to comply, coming face to face with Emma Swan bearing down on him with her sword outstretched.

A blind man could have seen her lack of skill with the weapon.  He could have ended their “duel” before it even began, but he had no desire to defeat her, even less to do her bodily harm. His mind went to the bean he possessed.  Perhaps there was a way for the both of them to achieve their objectives.  Perhaps he could let her obtain her prize—could prove to her that he was wrong, so very bloody wrong, in the way he compared her to the bean.

Perhaps he could remind her just how special she was while at the same time retaining his ability to exact his revenge on his sworn enemy.

So, he’d toyed with her, remaining on the defensive (although he couldn’t resist a bit of blatant innuendo once he’d flipped her to her back.  The opportunity to see the surprise—and maybe even a bit of desire—in her eyes, too delicious to pass up).

In the end, back in possession of the compass, she’d dealt him a blow that knocked all sense from him.  He’d come to minutes later—just in time to watch in horror as Cora’s hand shot forward, plunging into Swan’s chest.  He’d been frozen in place, the shock and revulsion so pervasive he couldn’t move; couldn’t speak, couldn’t even cry out.

But then it had happened.  A burst of magic shot forth from Swan, blasting Cora back with such force that she was rendered unconscious.

He was right; she truly was remarkable.  Just like this bean that would soon be restored to its former glory, Emma Swan was back.

Far from dried up, dead and useless, Emma Swan was the best of them all.

                                                                                      Next Chapter-->

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Very nice!  This chapter hurt, but it did a good job of showing Emma’s state of mind at the very beginning of season 2!  I also appreciated the scene between Kathryn/Abigail, Jim/Frederick and Snowing!

Season II Episode 1: Broken

Summary: The curse is broken, and now Emma has to live with that fact. Based on Season 2 Episode 1: Broken.

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @zaharadessert @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Want to be added? Send me an ask!

AO3

FFN

Read under the cut!

All Emma could focus on was one thought, repeating over and over in her mind, a music-less earworm she wished would have never taken hold, though now that it had it couldn’t be eradicated.  This wasn’t a song she had stuck in her head that listening to a thousand times would end.  This was a confirmation of everything for which she had both hoped and dreaded.  This was the end of everything she had known.

It’s true.

Magic, curses, time-gone-still.  Evil Queens and malevolent imps and princes and princesses.  Dwarves, fairies, dragons.  Her parents.

It’s all true.

She just broke a curse.  A curse.  Those things don’t exist.  They’re not supposed to exist.  And yet she just broke one.  A real, live, rainbow-throwing curse.  She saw it, lived it, felt it, but she didn’t believe it.  Or rather, she didn’t believe that it had been her, that it had been real.

All around her, people were greeting others as if they hadn’t seen them in years even though they had all just spoken within the last couple of days.  Some were embracing, calling each other by names Emma didn’t recognize.  She wandered down the street with Henry in a daze, overcome with a familiar emotion and overwhelmed by what this meant for her.  What it meant for the whole town.

How it changed who she was now.

Emma couldn’t deny the magic, though her brain was at war with her heart over it.  She had felt the wave course through her body and outward in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations.  She had seen the dragon with her own eyes, slayed it by throwing a sword at it.  She believed in the magic and fairy tales in a way she never had before this.  She didn’t want to, but there was no denying that she, like Henry, was now a believer. She accepted that.  But believing something and believing in it were two different things.

She still wanted to run.

That ever-present urge to get away, find home, surged through her, stronger than ever, but she couldn’t give in this time.  She had promised herself that she would stay here for Henry, be here for him to make up for giving him up, so here she would stay.  Her eyes locked with Mary Margaret’s.  Mary Margaret: her roommate, friend, and now mother.  What were the odds that they would find each other and become friends without ever realizing they were mother and daughter?  She wanted to deny the relation, to stay friends and nothing more complicated, but she saw the truth in her mother’s eyes, saw the joy in David’s at finding her at last.

She wished she could share that joy.

Instead, she just felt the sinking sensation of feeling devastated.  She had been given the gift she had always wanted, but it was nothing like she thought it would be now that she had it.  It hadn’t filled some hole inside her.  It hadn’t made her feel found.  She felt more lost than she had prior to the curse breaking.  She felt off-kilter.  She focused on that feeling, wouldn’t allow herself to contemplate on how much more she had suddenly gained.

She had lost too many people in her life before this.

Her mother had cradled Emma’s face in her hands reverently as she murmured, “You found us,” with such wonderment and joy.  Then, her parents pulled Emma into a tight embrace.  For the first time since she had been born, she knew what it felt like to be held by her parents.  She felt the sensation of knowing that her presence meant something to someone.  She felt the comfort of those who were supposed to protect her.  She pushed that comfort away, wouldn’t let herself feel it.  Though she resisted, the foundations of her walls that had been laid with their placing her into a magic wardrobe began to crack.

All Emma could think, would allow herself to think, was ‘Who was supposed to find me?’

At least Henry was excited, calling David “Grandpa” and hugging them.  Emma wished she could be more like Henry and see the good in the situation.  (She wished she could be more like Henry and allow herself to see the good in the situation.). Henry saw everything as more black and white (thanks to his youth), and in many ways it made it easier for him to roll with the punches.

She wondered if she could forgive easier if she had gotten Henry’s hope.

Of course, the reunions didn’t last long before the next crisis hit.  Regina got herself into trouble with the townsfolk now that the curse was broken, and Emma had to save her from the mob.  She was loathe to do it, but she was Henry’s mother for the first ten years of his life, so Emma would do anything she could to protect Regina for that simple fact.  The best part of this conflict was that it allowed her to push all the stuff out of her mind that she had been dealing with.  She could breathe a little bit easier.  But before the conflict’s solution could really get underway, there was the problem again.

“Don’t push it Snow,” she heard David chide his wife (his real wife, and God knows that is going to take some getting used to).  She saw Mary Margaret nod in agreement.

Of course, the woman doesn’t let it go.

“We’re finally together,” Mary Margaret says after telling Emma she wanted to talk, really talk, “but I can’t help but feel like you’re not happy about it.”

Emma hedged, trying to deny that she was unhappy, just focused on the latest crisis, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful.  The thing was, this was a lot for her to take in, and until she could overcome that urge to run when confronted with it, she had no intentions of talking to anyone.  The truth behind the matter was that none of this had happened the way Emma had dreamed.

And now, she would have to live with that fact.

After the total chaos of the day in saving Regina from an angry mob and then locking her up in jail, Emma just wanted a grilled cheese, a hot bath, and a show to binge watch on Netflix.  She had managed to separate from her parents for some time to herself, but she knew that all too soon they’d be together again, and Emma was low key dreading that.  She was glad she had finally found her parents, but they seemed too expect things from her that she wasn’t sure she could give.  Emma put her hands in her pockets as she trudged up the steps to the back entry of Granny’s.  She could have gone up the front steps to the diner, but people had been stopping her all day to thank her for breaking the curse.  She figured she was owed at least these few minutes to herself for Henry nearly dying and leading her breaking it.

Saviors’ wishes should be respected, after all.

Opening the door as quietly as she could, she glanced inside the diner even though she couldn’t see much.  No one seemed to notice her presence, so she slunk inside the foyer, stopping just by the jukebox.  She could see that Mary Margaret and David were sitting in a booth, clearly waiting for her.  Henry was across from them, chattering about something that caused David to laugh and Mary Margaret to smile.  Emma took a deep breath to fortify herself into taking that first step to join them.

Time to face the music.

Just as she took that first step, she stopped.  Kathryn and a blond man (wasn’t that Jim, the gym teacher at the school?  Emma rolled her eyes at the pun) entered the diner, and Emma watched as a determined look came over Kathryn’s face.  She decided to hang back and watch in case there was trouble.  Savior though she may be, she was still the sheriff of this town and old habits died hard.

There’s always trouble in this place.

David looked up and his eyes widened at seeing Kathryn and Jim.  Mary Margaret and Henry watched as the two newcomers approached.  David stood as they got closer to the table.  To Emma’s complete surprise, Kathryn hugged David tightly as Jim looked on, a small smile on his face.  

When they separated, Kathryn said, “I’m so sorry for everything!  I was wrong for trying to make you stay with me and fight for our marriage.  It didn’t even exist!  I can’t believe I was so blind.”

David chuckled and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile.  “We were cursed,” he responded, then continuing, “It’s alright.  I’m just glad we’re all back to normal.”  He reached out a hand to Jim, which the man shook eagerly.  “I’m sorry for ‘cheating’ on you during it.”

Kathryn shook her head, smiling.  “It’s alright.  As you said, we were cursed.”

“We owe you and your family so much,” Jim said.  “First you helped to de-goldify me in the Enchanted Forest, and now your daughter broke the curse to reunite Abigail and me.  I can never repay you.  If you ever need anything-” he broke off as Mary Margaret interuppted.

“You owe us nothing,” she said gently but firmly.  “We know what it is to be separated.  Your happy reunion is thanks enough.”  She smiled softly at them before continuing, “I’m sorry for causing you so much anguish, Abigail, with the affair David and I had carried on.”

Kathryn laughed.  “We were cursed,” she responded, giggling.  “Have I mentioned that?”

Everyone at the table laughed, with Kathryn adding after the laughter had calmed, “Besides, I’ve got something better now.  My true love.”  She beamed up at Jim, who smiled just as largely back.

“We’re very happy for you,” David said.  Everyone smiled once more and the couple said their goodbyes before moving to another table for dinner.

Mary Margaret beamed at David as he sat back down.  He leaned over and kissed her gently in response.

When he pulled away, he murmured softly, “I’m just glad I get to do this again.”  Emma couldn’t hear his words, though she did read his lips and so got the gist of what he had said to her roommate turned mother.

Her mind wandered back to the person she had been at sixteen, young and in love for the first time.  She had had that once, or she thought she had, and it had torn away all of her hope and confidence in herself.  That love had been a large part of the reason why she always ran, having learned the hard way to never trust love again.

She wondered what Neal was doing now, if he had been able to find his Tallahassee without her.  But after a moment, she slammed the lid shut on those thoughts.  It was foolish to dwell on him and what could have been.  She would never know his happy ending; all she would know was that she wasn’t a part of it.  Her thoughts turned to that brief interaction with Cleo, but she slammed the lid on that just as hard.  “You’re holding on too tightly,” had been Cleo’s admonishment to her, but when you didn’t have much, you had no choice but to cling too hard to the little bit you did have.  Besides, it was clear to Emma that she had never had Neal, and you couldn’t hold onto what you had never had.

Sighing, she allowed herself one final rumination before resolving to put all this behind her.  She thought about what she would do if Neal ever did come back into her life, if she would give him a second chance.  Her gut reaction was to refuse the notion, but she was just aware enough of the state of her heart that she would wish for that with all her might.  It had to have been an accident, or a misunderstanding.  If he were sorry, then she would have her answer.  It would be hard, but they could get through it.  A smaller voice deeper in her gut told her that he wasn’t sorry and it wasn’t a misunderstanding, and that she would have to do whatever she could to keep Henry’s heart safe (for that was all that would matter).  Briefly, she allowed herself to dream of a happy reunion between them.  Then, she shook her head and shook of the daydreaming.

It didn’t matter what she would do in that situation; it was never going to happen.

In the end, all she was left with were what-could-have-been, bittersweet memories, bone-deep regrets, and a juvenile record she couldn’t shake no matter what she did.  It didn’t matter at all what she would do.  As she finally left the back room where she had been lurking, her heart gave one last painful lurch as she witnessed the easy affection her parents shared as they kissed one more time.  For a fleeting moment, her heart yearned for the same chance to be that for someone, to finally be enough and not be left behind.  She yearned for that same kind of affection from someone and the ability to give that kind of affection back.  But as she greeted her parents and Henry, she tamped that yearning down, slamming yet another brick on her walls.  True love wasn’t in the cards for her.  She wasn’t the kind of girl to have a fated true love waiting in the wings to find her.

All she was was broken.

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[myfearless-love]

Too Well Tangled (Chapter 21/21 - "Untangling the Last Knot")

Chapters: 21/21 — "Untangling the Last Knot"

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Emma Swan, Angst and Romance, Banter

Summary: Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness." His past, a stormy mosaic of rejection and rebellion, has forged a man both feared and revered. Yet, the indomitable Miss Nolan proves an unexpectedly formidable opponent for his infamous charm. But when Killian's reciprocated passion lands them in a scandalously compromising, and very public, predicament, Emma is left with no recourse but to demand satisfaction...

Previous chapters: ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch. 6 II ch. 7 II ch. 8 II ch. 9 II ch. 10 II ch. 11 II ch.12 II ch. 13 II ch. 14 II ch.15 II ch. 16 II ch. 17 II ch. 18 II ch. 19 II ch. 20

READ HERE: AO3

Preview:

BIG shout out to my amazing beta @xarandomdreamx for always catching my mistakes and leaving me smiling with her comments!!❤️

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare

@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779

@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd

@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke

@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda

@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[takemetothemoon-fics]

Perfectly safe

Title: Perfectly safe

Pairing: Killian Jones x reader

Word count: 863

Warnings: alcohol

Tags: Fluff, a loooot of flirting

Synopsis: Reader get's really drunk, and needs Hook to take care of her.

A/N: I am quite braindead so forgive me if I make some mistakes or anything in that direction.... Once again, enjoy reading :) btw, figured out the "keep reading" thing, so now it's not that long hihi

MASTERLIST

In the end, you are grateful in a way. If you wouldn't have gotten that shitfaced, you would never have met him

You are sitting in a tavern. It's late. You felt lonely, and since you didn't have a person to solve this problem with, you decided to use your only friend available. Alcohol.

He's sitting in a corner of a bar, with his crew. He's had a few ales, but is acceptably sober. He notices a person with y/h/c hair sitting at the bar, all by themself. He walks over to you, and from this angle, he can tell you've had one too many.

"Hello darling." He says, in a flirtatious way, trying to asses your state.

"Hello sir." your words are slurred. You look to the man who appeared next to you, not having a clue who he is.

"Are you alright, my lady?" He asks, his brow slightly raised, his voice deep and gentle. he can tell by the way you're staring at him, and your speech, that you've had too much to drink, but he's a gentleman, and you've drawn his attention with your beauty. He takes the opportunity to lean in closer to see the color of your eyes.

"I'm fiiiine"

"You are anything but, darling, let me escort you home"

"I do not," you hiccup, "need escorting home." you switch up the way you sit, showing him that you are fine, but the act does not last long.

"My, my, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" he says, letting out a chuckle. He takes a moment to observe you, a curious look on his face. You are quite the sight, that's for sure. He leans in a bit close to you, looking deep into your eyes. "The only thing you need to do, is trust me." he has a devilish smile on his face, and then he tries to take your hand.

You pull your hand back. "I do not need anything from you."

"Are you quite sure, my fair lady?" He says, his voice sweet, yet with a small edge of authority. "My offer is still open, if it is of your desire", He says in a seductive tone - one that would have a lesser person weak in the knees, so to speak, but you are much braver than the usual ladies he pursues.

"Leaaaveee" You push your hand out, in an attempt to push him away. You miss completely causing you to fall.

"Hm," He grunts as he catches you before you hit the ground. "That was most unladylike", He says teasingly, but with an air of seriousness. He lifts you up and holds you steady under the arms, letting you rest against his chest and begins moving towards the exit, assuming that his gentlemanly gesture had changed your mind. "We would not want to make a scene in this fine establishment, would we, my lady?"

You mumble something, but he can't make much out of it.

He notice how your breath is heavy, and the blush on your cheeks is rather intense. He gets curious. With a swift move, he puts you back on the stool you were sitting on. "May I ask what a beautiful lady like yourself is doing in a place like this, and all alone, at that?" He asks in a gentle voice, but his gaze is intense, and the slight edge in it makes it seem like he wants to know the genuine truth. It is almost as if he's a detective who has to figure someone out.

"That is-" Suddenly, you become aware of your surroundings. you notice people glancing at you and smile or snicker once they notice your current state. "I need to get out of here."

"As you wish, my lady", His voice is deep and smooth. "I'll take you away from this place. But, please, tell me, what's your name, lovely one?" he asks, taking an opportunity to move closer to you, as he wants to get his hands on your waist. You can feel the heat of his body as he stands this close, and it would be very hard for a woman not to be intrigued by such proximity.

"Y/N." you say shortly, trying to put an end to the conversation.

"y/n. A pretty name for a pretty damsel. Killian. Killian Jones." He says, as he lays his hand on his chest. "Is there somewhere you'd like to go that is more quiet?"

"I want to go home. Ssso tired."

"Then we shall", He says in a gentle voice, with a small smile. "I'll escort you home, my dear." He starts taking you to the door, and then, with some effort, he hails a carriage. He opens the door for you so that you can get in first.

"Please don't do anything bad to me. I am in no state to defend myself" you say, as you hiccup for the 1000th time.

"You will be perfectly safe", he says, a genuine, reassuring smile coming on his face as he enters the carriage with you. "I will be your escort and your protector through the night, and the nights to come…"

[exhaustedpirate]

call disconnected

my first entry for CS Autumn/Spooky Bingo created by the lovely @hollyethecurious - the prompt was "ghost stories", i got a little carried away and made it into a bit of a crime solving thing! all my love and devotion goes to @belovedcreation for betaing!

rated T | 7849 words

also on AO3

summary: Sheriff Emma Swan gets a call about an accident in the woods, a man begging her for help. An hour later, Killian Jones is on his way to the hospital. Funny thing is, the call for help doesn't match the voice of the victim.

The call arrives just after 2 o’clock, which is lucky because there would be a whole other emergency if someone stopped Emma Swan from getting her grilled cheese. 

Ruby is supposed to be on phone duty but there is an anniversary dinner to plan and she doesn’t want to be responsible for Mulan having an underwhelming night due to her wife’s rushed planning. So Emma is covering the phones when it rings.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static greets her on the other side of the line, tensing her body unconsciously before a voice rings out. “Help, I-I fell-” It’s a strange panicked voice she’s never heard before, an accent not common to their small town of Storybrooke, Maine. She feels a tingle in her spine all the way to her hands. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir,” Emma takes a deep steadying breath. “Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” His guttural grunt of pain weighs on her chest and she feels like she’s having difficulty breathing. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she feels his panic in her veins. “I can barely hear you, sir,” Her knuckles are white as she tightens her hold on the phone, pressing it harder against her ear as if it will make it easier to hear. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River,” His breathing becomes panicked and she knows she should keep him calm, urging him to take shorter breaths but she’d feel like a hypocrite. “I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

The call cuts off and she is left with the sounds of her fast breathing. “Sir? Sir?” 

Emma tries to redial, grateful for the old technology to allow her to do so. An automated voice informs her the number is not in service and she frowns in confusion.

Maybe it was a prank.

Maybe some of the local teenagers were trying to send her on a wild goose chase so they can vandalise another section of their lovely neighbourhood. 

But the panic was real. The fear in that voice was real. The hairs on her arms are still raised as she remembers the voice, as she remembers all the alarms her body gave her.

Graham pokes his head into her office a second after. “Emma?” Her hand hurts from where she’s still holding onto the phone as if her life depends on it. “Are you alright?”

Maybe it is a prank.

The tight feeling on her chest tells her to go check it out nonetheless.

She drops the phone, with maybe too much strength, before she faces her deputy. “Are you up for a hike?”

---

It really is lucky that Graham practically lives in the woods. Emma was made for concrete roads and windows to keep the insects away. She wouldn’t last an hour alone in these woods.

The Toll Bridge crosses through the edge of the forest. The Misthaven Trail parallels the Shepherd River that flows under the bridge. It’s common to see vehicles on the side of the road - hikers leaving the last piece of civilization before venturing into the forest.

Emma parks the cruiser alongside a Chevrolet Chevelle and she’s almost sad to see it left to the whims of nature. But it probably belongs to their injured hiker. She places her hand on the hood of the car. She can still feel some warmth.

“This must be his.” She points the car out to Graham. “It’s probably been like an hour since he left. Call the hospital, ask them to get an ambulance here.”

Graham nods and grabs his phone. She lets his voice become background noise as she inspects the car. The door is unlocked, the hiker probably wasn’t expecting to be long. There’s a satchel in the back seat. She opens the door and looks inside. There’s an ID in the wallet and a buzzing in her ears when she looks at the picture on it. Killian Jones.

“They’re on their way,” Graham breaks through her inspection and everything becomes clearer. “I told them to keep their radio on.”

She nods. “We’re looking for Killian Jones,” Emma turns the ID towards him before tossing it inside the car. “Assuming he’s our hiker.”

Graham has his tracking face on as she closes the door. There’s something on the driver side floor that causes that tugging in her gut that guides her to flare up.

“It’s a good thing it hasn’t rained,” Graham points out from the other side of the car. “There are some recent footprints leading west. They’re probably his.”

“The Misthaven Trail,” Emma nods, any investigating paused in lieu of finding the injured hiker. “Let’s go.”

“Stay behind me.”

“Go get him, Fido.” Emma presses her lips together attempting to hide the smile at her terrible joke, but fails at the sight of his unimpressed look.

They follow the trail in familiar silence. Graham’s experience allows them to travel at a fast speed through the trees. They pay close attention to any sounds out of the ordinary - which is to say, anything that isn’t birds, animals or the rushing river below them.

“Emma.” 

Graham stops and she manages to stop before she runs into him. He gestures to the ground where a blanket is crumpled underneath a tree, still warm. 

“Still warm,” Emma confirms before dropping the blanket. “He must be close. Maybe he fell.”

“After all the warnings the Mayor released, there’s still people who forget to respect the forest.”

“I thought those had only been around for the past year,” Emma frowns, looking around. “I mean, you both gave me an hour-long lecture about it when I started.”

“Everyone in town knows to be cautious of these woods but there was a, uhm,” And it is the first time she’s ever seen Graham sound uncertain, his voice trembling with emotion. He clears his throat before he continues. “There was a death in these woods.”

She sees the way he looks guarded now, in pain. “Oh.”

A flash catches the corner of her eye. With a hand to cover her eyes from the sun, she turns towards it. The sunlight has caught on a metal flask within throwing distance from the blanket, she assumes. Close to it is a pile of rocks. A strange pile, each rock deliberately placed on top of the other. It must have been a while since it’s been built there according to the moss growing on them.

Emma turns towards her deputy to point that to him but sees him a few steps away looking at the ground. “Drag marks,” he points out as if he could feel her eyes on him. “He must have fallen down-”

“Help!” A weak yell cuts him off and they whip their heads to the right. 

“And ended up down by the river,” Emma finishes for him in a quiet voice, her heart beating faster at the sound of pain, as she stands next to the deputy.

Using caution, Emma follows Graham’s lead as he gets them to the river bank following the sounds of pain. Halfway down, they locate the hiker and for the first time, Graham’s confidence falters and so do his steps. A man is slumped on the side of the river, covered in dirt and blood. She can see tendrils of red flowing down the river.

“Don’t move,” Graham orders, recovering quickly, as he stands next to the victim who seems to slump at their arrival, the fight leaving his body in his relief. “We’re here to help.”

Emma kneels on one side of him and is instantly on alert at the sight of the gash in his head and the bone protruding from his leg. She looks up at Graham and he seems to read her thoughts.

“I’ll guide the paramedics here,” Graham says, grabbing the radio from his belt. “Keep him still and awake.”

She nods before he returns to the trail to guide the others to where they are. Emma places her hand on the man’s shoulder, careful to avoid hurting him further. His big blue eyes turn to her, pain and fear side by side with hope and creating a tug in her gut.

She clears her throat. “Are you Killian Jones?”

“Aye, I fell, broke my leg,” he explains in a hoarse voice. She frowns at the sound, a whole other type of tingle running up her spine. “The ground caved under me.”

There’s static in her radio before Graham’s voice rings out. “ETA is three minutes, is he conscious?”

“Yeah, conscious and lucid,” Emma answers through the radio. “Broken leg and head injury.”

“I thought I was going to die here,” Killian groans as she puts away the device. “How did you find me?”

“The Misthaven Trail is long and you weren’t exactly specific.” Emma breathes out a chuckle, her nerves slightly calmed at knowing help is coming. “But we found where you fell down. We would have been here faster but service in this area is crap. I don’t know how you called us in the first place.” She’s babbling. She does that when she’s nervous.

Killian’s eyebrows furrow together, confusion taking over the pain. “I called you?”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s how we knew to come find you.” She answers as if it’s obvious, even as a pull in her gut tries to tell her otherwise.

“I left my phone in the car,” he explains and she feels that tingle up her spine once more. “I didn’t call anyone.”

Careful footsteps and cautious voices approach them and she lets the paramedics do their job as they put Killian Jones in the stretcher and cover his wounds. Their eyes remain locked until the last possible moment before Emma follows behind the stretcher being led by Graham. 

A light flashes in her eyes once more and she looks up at it, the pile of rocks still standing proudly in the forest, a bird perched on the top stone, its deep blue wings fluttering. The hairs at the back of her neck stand in attention and she tries to make sense of what happened. 

They found the hiker exactly where he told her he’d be. His leg was broken, just like the call said - she wouldn’t soon forget the sight of the bone piercing his flesh. The voice was different, Emma noticed it right away, but there were no signs of other hikers in the area.

But if the call wasn’t made by Killian Jones, then who called them for help?

---

Loud laughter rings out from the open kitchen window. An unconscious smile stretches Emma’s lips as she looks out at the dark heads illuminated by the fire pit she borrowed from Graham. Despite being disappointed at the cancelled camping trip, Henry seemed to have forgotten all about it when she reminded him of the comforts of home camping and the awesome backyard that came with their house. 

After the day they had, Emma just couldn’t think of Henry in the woods.

“Emma?” 

Speaking of, her deputy’s voice from the phone in her ear brings her back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turns her back to the window, leaning on the counter. “I got distracted.”

“I was saying that Mr. Jones should be going into his MRI scan right now and after that, they are preparing him for surgery on his leg. The doctors said that despite the trauma his body has been through, he’s doing really well.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Emma breathes out in relief. Against her best interests, she hadn’t been able to put this strange rescue away from her mind. There was just something about the call, his voice, his eyes, that just didn’t seem right.

She feels Graham’s patient silence on the other side and she nods to herself to gather up courage. “Doesn’t all of this seem strange to you? The whole situation.”

“Emma-”

“He didn’t call the station, Graham, it was someone else, I swear,” she interrupts, her hackles raised. “He didn’t have a phone on him either, this is all just-”

“Weird,” Graham interrupts this time and he sighs. “I should have told you earlier, but I know Killian Jones, we a- were friends.”

“What?”

“He used to live here until last year. His brother, he-” Emma waits in suspense as Graham takes a deep steadying breath. “He died while on a hike in that trail a year ago, I assume Killian went there to pay his respects. I didn’t even know he was in town until we found him.”

“Y-You didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it was him and then, when we found him, I knew I had to stay focused. I needed to do my job.”

“Right,” Emma scratches her forehead, her brain full of conflicting thoughts. This was a lot to consider. “So who called the station? A ghost?” She asks her question sarcastically to disguise how the possibility doesn’t sound too ridiculous to her.

“All I know is that we had a long day, Emma,” Graham evades, his tone placating and calm. “We should get our rest and look at this whole thing again tomorrow, with fresh eyes.”

“You’re right,” she exhales. “Goodnight, Graham. Keep me updated.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

Emma ends the call and throws the phone at the dinner table. She’s going to push those doubts away even if she needs to force them away. She’s got some happy campers to focus on. Emma pulls the popcorn from the microwave and picks up the platter she made with the components for s’mores before pushing the back door open carefully.

“Does anyone know any ghost stories?” Ava Zimmer is almost vibrating in her seat as she grabs a handful of chips Emma brought earlier. Camping is not synonymous with healthy food.

“Ghosts? Aren’t we too old for that?” Nicholas Zimmer, on the other hand, is trying to hide his fear with bravado.

“Come on, Nick, it’s almost Halloween.” Henry knocks shoulders with his friend’s and she can hear the grin in his voice. “And that means ghost stories. Besides, they’re not real.”

“Yeah,” Ava agrees. “It’s just spooky and Halloween is the time for spooky.”

“Just not too spooky,” Emma interrupts, ignoring the way Nicholas startles at the sound of her voice - no need to embarrass the boy. “Otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.”

“Have you heard the story of the Misthaven Ghost?” Henry leans close to his friends on the bench with a grin.

Emma is glad for her steady grip on the platter or there would be no s’mores tonight. “Misthaven Ghost? Where did you hear that sort of story?” She tries to keep her voice cool but even she can hear the edge in it - was she the last one to hear about this? -, focusing instead on placing the food down on the small camping table she opened.

“Mr. Booth is having us write a ghost story for class and he gave us that one as an example,” Henry answers and he must misinterpret her questioning as innocent curiosity but she’s not going to correct him. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” 

“No, please join us!” Nicholas grabs her thankfully empty hands to pull her to sit between him and his twin after Henry stands up to stand on the other side of the fire.

“You’re such a scaredy cat.” Ava teases, looking at him around Emma.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Kids.” Emma warns, holding their arms to keep them from hitting each other.

“Listen up! For I am about to tell you the story of the Misthaven Ghost,” Henry calls from the other side of the fire before popping another popcorn in his mouth. Emma finds herself smiling at her kid’s dramatics. “It was a cold night in October, the 30th of October to be exact. An innocent man is walking the Misthaven Trail, determined to beat all odds and finish the hike. He is alone, nothing but his thoughts and the animals around him,” Nicholas plasters himself to Emma’s side. “He carries only a phone that won’t work this far into the woods and his bravery. He hears a presence to his right, to his left, all around, feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand in attention and a voice whispers in the wind,” Ava holds her right arm now as Henry lowers his voice. “‘Get out of the woods’, it says, ‘get out’, but the hiker is too fearless to heed their warning. Suddenly, a boom lights the sky and the ground gives out from under him, and then he’s falling. He’s falling and he can’t ask for help,” Emma feels the shiver running up her spine and, distantly, she thinks maybe Henry should focus on this storytelling ability he has. “He is floating on the river then, his body weak and leaving him, his last thought on the family he leaves behind, a last goodbye sent to the stars he loved so much.”

Henry finishes with a fluttering gesture towards the night sky. Ava and Nicholas on either side of her are gripping her arm, not willing to break the silence. 

“He had a family?” Emma asks and even her quiet tone manages to startle the twins. 

“Were you scared, Ava?” Nicholas asks as he looks at his sister, a victorious grin winning over his fear.

Ava huffs and crosses her arms. “No, you’re the scared one.”

“It’s a good story, isn’t it?” Henry asks, a bright smile on his face and a proud stance to his shoulders.

“Mr. Booth told you this story?” Emma tries again.

“Yeah,” Henry grabs another handful of popcorn, now that his story is done, eating one at a time. “He wanted us to have an example of what to write but he was probably also showing off.” 

The kids laugh, everyone in town knowing of August’s designs of being a published author and his constant promises of finishing his novel soon. But there was still something niggling at Emma’s brain.

“Did he make up the story himself? Or did he hear it from someone?”

“He says he made it up inspired by a real event,” Henry shrugs. “I told Mrs. Nolan about it and she said that, about a year ago, someone did die in those woods and that’s when the Mayor put out the announcement.” He grabs the marshmallow sticks and passes them along to his friends who are still visibly spooked. “Apparently there had been lots of reports of injuries and lost hikers on that trail before that.”

“So it took someone dying for them to actually do something about it? Figures.” Emma scoffs and Henry shrugs, unaware of the turmoil in his mother’s brain.

“Okay, can we tell less spooky stories now?” Nicholas asks, begs almost, bringing Emma back to the present. The fact that Ava doesn’t tease her brother is telling.

“Why don’t I grab my laptop and put on a movie for you?” Emma suggests, standing up from the bench.

“Nightmare before Christmas?” Nicholas turns pleading eyes towards his friends.

Ava nods and then seems to remember herself. “Only if we watch ‘Monster House’ after.” 

Her twin seems to think about it before nodding resolutely. “Deal! Is that okay, Henry?”

Henry smiles, seemingly just happy to have a fun night with his friends. “As long as it’s Halloween themed, I’m in.”

Emma grins, despite everything. “Double feature it is,” she chuckles. “I’ll set it up.”

‘This is Halloween’ drifts through the open kitchen window as the kids settle down making s’mores in the yard while Emma sits at the kitchen table. She finds Killian Jones’ social media easily enough - she wouldn’t have become one of the best bail bondsperson in the business without being able to find someone’s internet footprint with only a name and a date of birth. It might be slightly illegal to have taken a picture of the man’s ID but what is she gonna do? Arrest herself?

Maybe Emma needed to take a long look within herself if she was negotiating committing illegal acts to herself… After she got to the bottom of this mystery.

Killian Jones is even more handsome than she had previously thought. Considering the only times she’d been able to actually look at him were either a small grainy ID photo or him caked in dirt and blood, it wasn’t a high bar. 

Seeing him on the deck of a small boat, a colourful shirt open to show his chest underneath, his eyes crinkled in laughter as he holds out a beer bottle in cheers to the person behind the camera is a welcome alternative. She has to force herself to scroll past the picture. 

She notices belatedly that the last post - the Hawaiian shirt distraction - is from a year ago, September to be exact. In the middle of all the thirsty comments, she finds something interesting. ‘Don’t shut me out, Killian, I’m here for you’, was posted by one bookworm33 and it would have looked weird if it didn’t speak of desperation and worry.

Emma continues to scroll down and doesn’t have to swipe too long before she pauses at a picture of Killian Jones and a man that shares the same eyes and facial features. Her gut tugs at her and she taps on the picture once, a tag covering the man’s eyes. Bejewelled40 - whose real name is Liam Jones - aside from being a Taylor Swift fan, is also Killian Jones’ brother.

There are pictures of them in boats, hiking, and visiting foreign countries, even some that include Graham. His posts also end a year ago and the ‘remembering’ on the top of his profile is an easy explanation. Clicking on the first photo - different angles to the September boat trip, focusing more on Liam Jones than his brother - she finds another comment hidden between thirsty comments and boat enthusiasts. ‘I miss you’, written simply and it’s the lack of emojis that catch Emma’s attention. Bookworm33 was clearly important to the siblings. 

It doesn’t take her long to get a better picture of the situation. Belle French, the brother’s friend, has been a librarian at Storybrooke High for the past 4 years after a troublesome divorce made her move cities. Pictures and references to the Jones brothers start a few months after that, before there’s a significant lack of Killian Jones in her pictures a year later. 

An article in the local newsletter, an announcement in the paper and a remembrance post on Facebook spells out the rest of the story. The Jones Brothers move to Storybrooke 5 years ago and join the community, Liam as the Sheriff and Killian as the Harbormaster; Belle and Liam start their romance and become engaged two years ago. A year ago, Belle’s father passes away and she travels back home and Liam is found dead on the Misthaven Trail three days later. Killian Jones isn’t seen in Storybrooke for a whole year after the funeral until Emma finds him almost dead by the river bank.

A message notification puts an end to her research. ‘Jones is out of surgery and we should be able to visit him tomorrow’, Graham texts and she looks at the clock. Emma sighs. Two hours researching and she still has so many questions.

‘Take the day off tomorrow, Humbert, I’ll follow up with Jones’, she messages back. ‘Don’t argue with me, I’m your boss, you deserve some rest’, she sends right after, expecting the argument.

‘Alright, Sheriff, I leave it to your capable hands.’ The reminder causes her to massage her temples. She has Liam Jones’ job; could this whole situation feel more like a horror movie?

Going back to Liam Jones’ instagram, Emma finds a picture of him with Graham in a nature setting. With a squint and a zoom, she recognises the setting. She swipes to find a video with Graham’s voice from behind the camera and Liam Jones struggling but determined to take his next step.

“We’re currently on mile 5 of the Misthaven Trail,” Graham explains, a very faint hint of tiredness in his tone as he sweeps the camera over their surroundings and Emma can’t help the eerie feeling at the setting sun behind the trees. “As you can see, this area is beautiful and peaceful, a great place to be at one with yourself and your thoughts.” There’s a scoff from the right and Graham laughs, turning the camera to his friend. “Liam here is having some trouble.” He earns himself a glare from his companion. “There've been a lot of accidents in this area so this is your friendly reminder to be careful where you step and to respect the forest.”

“You’ve lectured every single lost or injured hiker we pulled out of these woods. Friendly, my arse.” Emma sucks in a breath at the sound of Liam Jones’ voice. Graham’s responding laughter and voice seems to sound from underwater as he defends himself. 

Please, help me, plea-

It’s the same voice. She feels the tingle in her spine and the raised hairs on her arms she had before. How could it be possible?

Sounds of yelps outside have her jumping from her seat, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Subsequent cheering reminds her of her whereabouts. It’s the kids reacting to the anthropomorphic house finally meeting its demise on the small screen. Emma grips onto the kitchen counter, taking deep steadying breaths. 

She needs to have a chat with Killian Jones.

---

It’s rainy and gloomy the next day when Emma arrives at the hospital. 

Maybe the weather’s a sign. It’s not like she was ever a superstitious person but it’s hard to remain sceptical after the day she’s had. The nurse tells her he’s in room 13. Of course.

In the corridor, she sees a familiar figure. 

“I thought I told you to take the day off, Humbert.” 

Emma almost grins when he startles. Almost. She simply crosses her arms as she stares him down. Graham looks away, as if he just got caught in the proverbial cookie jar, it’s a cute look.

“I am taking my day off, Emma,” Graham defends and she raises her eyebrow. “I didn’t ask him anything that could be related to the case. I just-”

“Wanted to see how your friend was,” she finishes for him.

Graham stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets and nods. “I just needed to make sure he was okay.”

“Because Liam would have wanted you to do the same.”

He looks up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. This might have been the first time she’s shocked her deputy in the year they’ve worked together.

“H-how…?”

“I did some research last night.” She uncrosses her arms to stuff her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I found Killian Jones’ social media, which led me to Liam’s, to Belle’s and then to yours. You were his deputy.”

“The four of us bonded over being away from home.” He shrugs, trying to hide the heartache over the loss. “After Liam passed, it all fell apart.”

“I’d never seen Killian Jones in Storybrooke before today, or Belle French.”

“Killian left after the funeral, said something about a family member in Boston even though I’m sure they didn’t have any family in the States. He rejected all my calls, I had no way to find him.” Graham sighs, scratching his forehead. “Belle isolated herself the first few months. After that she would go from home to work and back. She’s been trying to go out more, determined to live her life the way Liam would have wanted her to. It’s still a slow process but at least she’s trying.”

“And here you are in the middle of everything trying to be there for everyone.”

“I didn’t lose a brother or a fiance, Emma, I’m fine.” He crosses his arms and she recognises the look on his face.

“Right, if you want me to be ‘bad cop’, I will,” she threatens.

“Seriously, Emma, I’m fine, it’s been a year and-”

“Graham,” she interrupts, holding up her hand. “Go see Dr. Hopper or I’m suspending you.”

He groans and yet, it feels like a victory. “Yes, boss.” He mockingly salutes and yet it still shows his respect.

“Go home and enjoy the rest of the day off while I go and talk to Mr. Jones.” Emma pats his arm and he nods. 

“I told him to tell you everything he could remember,” Graham informs her. “I know you can do your job but he can be very stubborn so I just wanted to make it a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Emma smiles amusedly and watches as he walks past her. “Hey, Graham?” He stops in the corridor and she can’t hold back her curiosity. “Liam was the sheriff before me,” Graham shifts in his feet, uncomfortable. “Did you apply for the job? I’d think you’d be a shoe-in to be the next Sheriff as opposed to an outsider.”

“Nah,” He shrugs and she can actually see the weight on his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have felt right.” His lips curl up in a small smile, a grieving smile. “Besides, you are a great boss.” 

Emma rolls her eyes but her smile is wide. “Get some rest and go see Dr. Hopper.” 

“Yes, boss,” he repeats before he leaves the hospital wing all together.

With a deep steadying breath, Emma knocks at the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

She nods to herself before opening the door. “Mr. Jones, I’m-”

“Sheriff Emma Swan,” Killian Jones nods at her. “Graham told me you were coming. Didn’t expect you here so fast though.”

“As it happens, you’re my only open case.”

She stands a few feet from his bed, arms crossed as she finally takes a look at the man they saved the day before, now no-longer covered in blood and dirt. There is a bandage on his forehead all the way down to the temple, his face, neck and hands - the only things visible - filled with small scratches, and his leg is in a thick cast. He looks tired but okay.

He looks handsome too and she’s trying not to remember his boat pictures. It helps that the hospital gown and robe cover his chest and what she knows is underneath. She’s really trying. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the chair next to his bed, where she assumes Graham had been seated minutes prior. “We’re probably in for a long chat.”

She should refuse, keep him at a distance. She sits down but not before pulling the chair back a few inches. Emma catches an amused smile on his lips and she wonders what else Graham told him about her. She clears her throat focusing on being professional.

“Alright, Mr. Jones-”

“Please, call me Killian.” 

Emma nods, trying to look away from the soft smile he directed at her. “Killian.” His smile grows. Professional, Emma. “Do you remember what happened before we found you?”

“Aye,” It’s his turn to clear his throat at the wavering tone of his voice. “The ground slid out from under me and I fell, hit my head and broke my leg.”

His tone was distant, factual, and it sounded wrong in his voice. “What were you doing in that part of the woods?”

“I-uh, I went there to drink.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of alcoholic beverages and your blood alcohol levels were very low.” She raises her eyebrow at his half-truth. “Let me tell you a little secret.” She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “I-”

“Have a thing with lies.” There is a small smile on his lips at Emma’s surprised expression. “Graham told me about that.”

“Right.” It takes her a second to recover from the surprise. “If you know, why don’t we avoid lying or, in this case, omitting part of the story and you tell me the truth.”

“Commanding, I like it.” He smirks weakly and at the roll of her eyes, he nods in preparation, his expression turning serious. “I was there to mourn my brother, Liam.” 

“Why not go to the cemetery? I’m sure you’ve heard how dangerous that part of the woods is.”

“That’s where he died,” His voice is low and she can only just hear it over the beeping of the machines. “Graham and the others found his body wrapped around on a rock in the river the next morning. He’d bled out during the night.” 

“So he got injured the day before? How did no one notice he was gone for so long?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound accusing but from the guilty self-punishing look in Killian’s face, that’s how he would describe it.

“A few weeks before he passed, I went through a break-up,” he sighs, settling carefully on the pillows at his back and Emma does the same on the cushioned chair. “I had fallen in love with a married woman.” She tries to contain her surprise and apprehension but it’s like he can see everything she tries to hide. “I know, I got an earful from my brother when we started dating. But she promised that she was going to divorce her husband as soon as she could find a good lawyer so she could guarantee a joint custody deal.”

“She has a child?”

He nods and his frown is enough for her to understand his conflict. “We kept it a secret. We didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise her relationship with her son. Liam kept telling me how reckless I was being, how naive, but I kept shutting him down. I was in love.” He shrugs. “After a while he stopped trying and I was happy.”

“Her husband found out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I got greedy, selfish,” Killian’s tone turns hard, self-loathing. “We went to a cafe in town and she was nervous but I was happy, I was out in public with the love of my life.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “Her husband walked in with her son right behind him and I considered it luck that the cafe was almost empty. The boy came up to us first, asking his mom why she was there and who I was. I didn’t know what to say and her husband was looking at me like he wanted to kill me.” Killian sighs. “She asked me to leave and that she would talk to me later.”

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well.”

He actually laughs, a sharp, terrible sound. “I had gotten myself into a state when she finally met me. We yelled at each other, she accused me of pushing, I accused her of playing with my feelings. When she finally told me that she almost lost her son because of me, I shut up. She told me she was going to go back to her husband, that he was willing to take her back after the stupid mistake she made and then she left.” He finishes with a sigh and Emma leans back on her chair, overwhelmed. “I didn’t take it well.”

“Who would?” 

His chuckle brings her eyes back to his and despite the pain behind them, there’s an amused glint in the blue eyes that definitely do not get captured well in pictures. “For the next few weeks, I started drinking. A lot. I didn’t want to see Liam’s disappointment or self-righteousness so I distanced myself. That day, he barged into my house, took one look at the half-empty bottle in my hand and went off on me.” He shifts in his bed, hissing when his leg moves wrong. “I can see now that he was scared but at that moment I was angry. We argued and I told him that I never wanted to see him again and he left my house.”

“Is that why no one filed a missing persons report?”

He nods and his eyes water. “I drank the whole night after he left and the next day, I woke up to someone banging on my door. It was Belle.” His breath shudders. “She had been trying to call him all morning. Liam had told her that he would be coming to my place so she thought he’d stayed the night, when he didn’t text her or call her the next morning, she started to get worried. That fear, the feeling that someone had gone wrong to someone you love, was the sharpest cure for a hangover I ever had.” They both shared a mirthless chuckle. “We called Graham right away and when he didn’t know where Liam was, it became a town wide search.” He takes a deep breath. “Graham found his car parked at Toll Bridge and searched through Misthaven Trail.”

“He fell.” Emma wrings her fingers as she watches the emotions in Killian’s face.

“He left his phone in the car so when he fell into the river, he couldn’t call for help.” He sniffs, staring at the wall in front of him. “So imagine my surprise when you and Graham showed up to my rescue despite the fact that I also left my phone in my car and no one knew I was even in town.” Killian turns to her, his eyes still full of pain but a curious small smile gracing his lips.

Emma tucks her hair behind her ear in a nervous move and leans back on the chair. “It’s like I told you yesterday, we received a call that helped us find you.”

“Right,” he frowns. “And as I just said, I left my phone in the car, so it’s impossible.” 

She sighs. “I’m aware of that and, trust me, I’ve spent the whole night trying to figure it out and the only explanation I have is impossible.”

“Try me.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth a few times while Killian looks on patiently. “All our calls are recorded,” she says instead, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Before I came here, I went by the station to download the recording, so I’m just gonna play it for you.” Killian raises an eyebrow while Emma brings up the file.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static rings out from the speaker and she tenses up all over again. “Help, I-I fell-” Killian gasps and she gives in to his silent request and hands him the phone. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir. Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” Killian’s eyes shine with tears at his brother’s voice, at his sounds of pain and Emma feels her chest tighten. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she is dreading the end of the call. “I can barely hear you, sir.” His knuckles turn white from where he is gripping the phone and a tear falls down his cheek. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River. I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

Killian takes a shuddering breath when the recording ends and the phone drops on the bed. She should grab the phone and give him space. She should ask him questions about it. And yet, Emma finds herself grabbing his trembling hand with hers, her whole skin tingling at the touch. He grips her hand back tighter, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“H-How-,” he whispers in a broken tone. “That’s my brother’s voice but-but how is it possible?”

Killian looks at her, pleading for an answer, for an explanation. But she can’t give him one. Emma shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.” Her thumb moves unconsciously over his knuckles. “But if it wasn’t for this call, we wouldn’t have found you.”

To her surprise, Killian starts to laugh even as tears fall down his face, a disbelieving sound. “I can’t believe this.” He covers his face with his free hand and Emma squeezes his hand, silently asking for clarification. He sighs and looks at her, his eyes bluer than they’d been before. “I ran away after the funeral, they had barely finished covering the casket and I was crossing the town line. I knew Belle needed me to stay, Graham too, we should have mourned together, helped each other during this but I-I-”

“You blamed yourself.”

He exhales a laugh. “Aye, stupidly tried to find answers at the bottom of a bottle once again. I just kept replaying our last argument, kept seeing him bleeding out in the river and I knew I couldn’t grieve when I knew it was my fault.”

Emma opens her mouth to protest but Killian raises his hand, stilling the words she still wasn’t sure she would say. “After a night where I was almost inducted into this woman’s witchy cult,” and she really wishes she had the chance to ask about that, “I looked for help. Found a therapist, grieved. A week ago, I told him about the anniversary of Liam’s death coming up and he suggested I visit his grave, talk to him, ask for forgiveness.” He sighs. “I was on my way to the cemetery when I found myself on the Toll Bridge. I thought it was a sign when I found the marker Graham made to honour Liam. I sat there and talked to him, I didn’t realise how much anger I still felt towards him dying, abandoning me.” He laughed sarcastically. “Ridiculous, I know. I threw my flask and I felt the ground slide from under me and I thought ‘there it is, your revenge, Liam, you’re finally punishing your killer’.”

“And then we showed up.”

“And I thought that maybe you had appeared for a reason and now hearing that?” He looks at her embarrassed, shaking his head. “I sound like a crazy person but-”

“I thought I was crazy,” Emma interrupts him with a reassuring smile. “Common sense would have you think the call was a prank. But from the moment I got the call, my instincts told me something wasn’t right, that there was more to the story.”

“I’m really glad you decided to go with your instinct, then,” he smiles softly. “If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“But you did.” She squeezes his hand and they both seem to remember that their hands are still clasped together. She doesn’t let go and neither does he. “And if we are to believe in ghost stories, your brother is adamant that you get a second chance.” 

They lock eyes, share a soft smile and she figures professionalism has been thrown out the window from the moment she took his hand. He nods and his smile widens. She kinda wishes they could hold hands forever.  

Wait, what?

“You may be right.” His voice is soft and it feels like he’s trying to look inside her, searching. “He’d probably beat up the side of the head that it took me this long to get my head out of my own arse.”

Emma chuckles and his smile widens. “I don’t think he expected you to break your leg and your head to get the message across.”

“Well,” his lips curve into a side smirk and she’s not ready for it, “I’m guessing that the service in the afterlife is a little spotty.” She laughs, surprised at his joke, and he laughs with her. Nope, she was not ready. “My brother always gave me good advice, maybe I should follow this last one too and take that second chance he gave me.”

“Oh?”

Her heart hammers against her chest at the way he looks at her. He opens his mouth to answer when the room door bursts open.

“Killian Jones!”

Emma jumps from her seat, refusing to acknowledge how empty her hand feels now that it’s no longer holding his, to make space for the shorter brunette storming up to Killian’s bed. 

Belle French.

“I haven’t heard from you in a whole year and then I have Graham calling me to tell me you’re in the hospital?!”

But Killian only smiles, clearly happy to see his would-be sister-in-law despite the guilt beginning to take root in his eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Belle.” And it’s clear that the simple sentence breaks something in the librarian’s being. With two quick strides, she embraces him tightly. “Careful, love, I’m an invalid now,” he complains, even as his arms hold her closer, willing to ignore any pain it might be causing him. 

“You’re in a world of trouble, Killian.”

His smile only widens and he turns to look at Emma, likely amused at the overwhelmed look on her face. Belle seems to realise that there’s someone else in the room - not that Emma blames her - and turns to her.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I-”

“No need to apologise,” Emma raises her hand to stop the apology. “I just needed to take Mr. Jones’ testimony.” He raises an eyebrow at her use of his last name, clearly unimpressed by her choice to be professional. “Sheriff Emma Swan,” she introduces herself before holding out her hand.

“Belle French.” Belle takes her hand, still somewhat surprised as she looks between Killian and her. “Is he in some kind of trouble then?” Her expression seems ready for a fight and Killian’s smile seems to grow.

“No, no,” Emma is quick to appease. “I just needed the full story, that’s all.” She stuffs her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I actually should go write up the report.” She takes a few steps back towards the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss French. Get better soon, Mr. Jones.”

She starts to walk out the door. “Emma,” Killian calls and she really should not have turned around so fast. “Maybe we can grab a coffee when I get discharged? You can tell me all about safety measures when hiking.”

Emma tries to ignore Belle’s curious expression. “I think Graham might be the better man for the job.”

“He’s been trying for years, it never stuck,” He grins and there’s only so much a girl can be expected to take. “Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

She bites her lip and focuses on the hopeful look in his eyes. The last time she trusted someone, that she gave someone a chance, she ended up in prison. She should say no. 

Maybe she can justify this leap on supernatural activity too?

“It’s a date.”

The way his grin lights up a whole room does feel otherworldly. 

Just as the door closes behind her, she hears Belle’s stupefied voice.

“Killian Jones, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Emma laughs. Maybe not all ghost stories have to have bad endings.

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair 10/?

See! Another update! I originally intended to include the wedding in this chapter, but I hit over 2k words and decided it would have to wait. But guess what? Tomorrow there will be another chapter, and it will be a romantic, swoony, steamy one! For now, enjoy the mystery and thickening of the plot in this chapter . . .

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 2k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious @lfh1226-linda

Chapter Ten

Killian studied Emma’s profile from the backseat. She was looking out the window, her chin in her hand, and she was worrying her bottom lip. He knew she was nervous about seeing her mother, especially after reading Mary Margaret’s journal. He wished he could make this all easier for her.

“This place we got her into is really nice,” Ingrid explained as she drove through town. “I’ve been trying for years. I think they can really help her here, and she’ll be safe.”

“What will really help her is solving the riddles,” Emma said, pulling away from the window to look at Ingrid. “I’ve only solved the first one!”

“Right,” Ingrid replied.

Emma narrowed her eyes at her foster mother. “You do believe her story, right?”

Ingrid glanced over at Emma, then quickly back to the road. She squirmed in her seat a bit, then sighed. “I don’t know, Emma, to be honest. It’s so completely unbelievable.”

Killian sat up straighter and leaned forward, grasping the back of Ingrid’s seat. “You said you wouldn’t think she was crazy!”

“I don’t!” Ingrid exclaimed. 

In the passenger seat, Emma slid down lower and nibbled on her finger nail. Ingrid glanced in concern over at her. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Emma. It’s me trying to process all of this.”

It grew quiet in the car for a bit, then Ingrid spoke again wistfully.

“It would make so much sense, though, thinking back on how your mom was when we met.”

“How so?” Emma asked tentatively, sitting up a bit straighter.

“She didn’t know how to drive. Had never seen a car before, actually. Everything seemed loud and frightening to her. She said things were just too fast, you know?”

“Like where she came from was completely different? Older in a way?” Emma asked.

“Exactly. And even though so much clearly made her nervous, she was also very well spoken and obviously smart. She carried herself with such confidence, too, like -”

“Like royalty?” Killian supplied. 

Ingrid smiled at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, like royalty.”

It fell silent in the car again until Emma spoke up hesitantly. “It’s confusing to me too, Ingrid. Sometimes I tell myself it’s all crazy, then other times . . . I don’t know, other times, it makes more sense than anything else in my life ever has.”

“Well,” Ingrid replied, “regardless, we’re all here for you, and we’re going to solve those riddles.”

The car crested the hill then, and the mental health facility came into view. It was a grand mansion of red brick and dark brown wood, older even than the buildings at the university.

“Whoa,” Emma breathed as she looked up at the intimidating manor, “how are we affording this, again?”

“Medicaid?” Killian asked.

“No,” Ingrid answered with a chuckle. “Yet another reason to believe Mary Margaret is Snow White and under a curse. She never had any form of identification, no social security number, no record that she ever existed.”

“I wonder why she chose the name Mary Margaret Swan,” Emma mused.

Ingrid shrugged as she pulled into a parking space. “Maybe Swan because of the cursed princess in Swan Lake? As for Mary Margaret, I think she may have made it up on the spot when we met. She kind of stumbled over it, you know?”

They all exited the car, and as they walked towards the entrance to the mental hospital, Ingrid answered Emma’s first question under her breath.

“A fellow professor at the university used to be a psychologist here. He pulled some strings. And there are non-profit funds for itinerant people.”

The foyer of the massive building was more like the grand home of some turn-of-the-century tycoon than a hospital. Ingrid checked in at the mahogany front desk, and they all got visitors badges, then they headed up the stairs to the second floor. The doors that lined the hallways looked like regular bedroom doors except for the numbers affixed to them and the patient names on the walls beside them. Ingrid knocked lightly on a doorway to the left, and a nurse opened it. 

“She’s just had a dose of medication,” the nurse explained. “She had a bit of a difficult morning, so I don’t know how long she’ll stay awake for your visit.”

“We understand.” Ingrid continued to speak in low tones to the nurse as Emma stepped around her and into the room. Killian was right beside her, his hand resting reassuringly at the small of her back. 

The room was more like a suite, with a sitting area around a fireplace, a window seat lined with bookshelves, and an en suite bathroom. A glimpse into the bathroom was the only sign that this was a hospital, for that room was sterile and utilitarian. 

Mary Margaret lay on the bed under crisp white sheets, a burgundy blanket pulled up to her chin. She looked more pale and thin than Emma had ever seen her, and there were dark circles beneath her emerald eyes. When she saw Emma, however, her face brightened a bit. 

“Emma? Is that you?”

She reached out a hand that was almost bony, and Emma took it as tears welled in her eyes. 

“Yes, it’s me.” 

“You’re alright?”

Emma nodded as she took the chair that was pulled up beside the bed. 

“Yes, I’m alright.” 

Mary Margaret’s gaze flickered and darkened as she looked over Emma’s shoulder. “Who is he?”

“This is Killian,” Emma explained, pulling him closer. “He’s a good man. He loves me.”

Killian eased down to his knees beside the bed. “I asked Emma to marry me.”

Mary Margaret studied his face, then sighed and relaxed into the bed. “So you’re not that horrible boy with the red car.”

“No.” 

“And you’ll take care of my Emma?”

“I would die for her.”

Tears began to course down Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “True love,” she said so softly that Emma and Killian had to lean close to hear her, “it’s the strongest magic of all.”

“Mary Margaret?” Ingrid said gently, coming around to the other side of the bed.”Do you remember me?”

“Ingrid!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “You kept my promise?”

Ingrid nodded, her own eyes filling with tears. “I love her like my own daughter.”

“Good,” Mary Margaret sagged again, as if conversation wore her out. Then she began to sing:

“O, where are you going?" "To Scarborough fair,"

    Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;

"Remember me to a lass who lives there,

    For once she was a true love of mine.

And tell her to make me a cambric shirt,

    Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,

Without any seam or needlework,

    And then she shall be a true love of mine.

And tell her to find the town which no one knows,

    Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,

And reunite the lovers there with a kiss ,

    And then she shall be a true love of mine

And there she must sow an acre with but one kernel of corn,

    Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,

Upon the seashore before the tide comes,

   And then she shall be a true love of mine

Her voice grew soft as she sang the last line, and her eyelids started to flutter. Emma leaned close, desperate to get some answers before they left. 

“Ma- er, Mother, how do I find the town no one knows?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes fluttered open. “A place where there are no happy endings,” she murmured. 

“But where?”

“Don’t cross the town line, no, no, no. Bad things will happen. Be careful, dearies.”

Oh no, she was sounding crazy again! Emma stood and grasped her mother by the shoulders. 

“Don’t start that,” she scolded. “I need help to solve these riddles, to help you! To help me! To help my baby!”

Mary Margaret lifted her head and shoulders off the bed, her eyes wide. “The baby’s coming?”

“Yes!”

“We don’t have much time! You have to find the town! You have to find my true love!”

“I know,” Emma choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks, “but how?”

Before her mother could answer, a scream and a crash sounded from the hallway. They all jerked their heads instinctively towards the sound, and Mary Margaret clucked her tongue.

“Princess Belle is not doing well,” she sing-songed, then began to giggle. 

There was another crash and scream, and Ingrid being the eternal caregiver, rushed out into the hall. 

“He won’t let her go,” Mary Margaret began to sob, “or me. Or you.”

“Who won’t let you go?” Emma demanded. She was beginning to lose her patience.

“I can’t say his name! It’s too dangerous!”

Killian put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll get anything more from her today.” There was another scream and crash, and Emma looked towards the door with concern. Killian squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll go.”

Emma tried to follow him, but Mary Margaret clasped her hand with a grip firmer than she would have expected. 

“Don’t, Emma! He’s here!”

Killian stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. A nurse and an orderly were rushing into the room across the hall from whence came the frantic screams. But more oddly, Ingrid stood in the middle of the hall gazing with adoration at a man with long gray hair leaning on an ornate cane. She even giggled as he spoke to her - something Killian had never heard Ingrid do in his life. The man looked up and saw Killian. The man’s gaze unnerved him. 

“Is this your son, Ingrid?”

She turned, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “Oh, yes! Well, I mean, my husband’s brother, actually. Though soon to be my son-in-law! Crazy, I know.”

She was gabbering on like a schoolgirl! Killian recoiled as the man stepped closer.

“Who is this, Ingrid?” Killian demanded.

“Oh, he works with me.”

The man inclined his head. “Public relations.”

Killian narrowed his eyes. The man reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Though it seemed irrational, Killian recoiled and reached behind him for the doorknob to Mary Margaret’s room. “Get away from me.”

“Killian!” Ingrid gasped. “Mr. Gold, I’m so sorry for his rudeness.”

“No need for apologies,” the man, Mr. Gold, assured her in dulcet tones. He gazed intently at Killian, rubbing his thumb along an amulet hanging from his neck. Killian blinked, confusion making his vision blur. He let go of the door and stepped closer . . . 

“Is everything okay out here?”

Killian spun to see Emma standing in the open doorway. Her eyes landed on Mr. Gold’s face, and she went suddenly pale. 

“You, you . . .” Emma’s knees began to buckle, and Killian rushed to catch her. 

Emma pressed her face into his chest, and the words she whispered against his shirtfront made his blood run cold. 

“It’s the face I saw . . . when it wasn’t Neal anymore.”

Killian cried out with horror and rage, but when he turned to face the man . . . he was gone! Ingrid stumbled a bit and put a hand to her forehead. 

“What . . .” she mumbled, “what’s going on? Why am I in the hallway?”

“That man you introduced me to,” Killian hissed, “it’s Rumplestiltskin!”

Ingrid’s eyes grew wide even as she shook her head in bewilderment. “What man? I didn’t introduce you to anyone.”

The nurse and the orderly stepped out of the room across the hall, which now was silent. Emma gave a small gasp. 

“Killian,” she whispered, “look at the name by the door!”

“Lacey Cassidy!”

Killian looked down in shock at Emma’s face, and she gave him a small nod. Before the nurse could close the door behind her, the two of them rushed forward.

“We’re here to visit Mrs. Cassidy,” Killian told them. 

The nurse glanced down at their visitor’s badges, then suspiciously into their faces. “And who are you?”

“I was her son’s prom date,” Emma spoke up. 

The nurse’s eyes widened in understanding, and Emma didn’t miss the way she glanced at the small baby bump only recently noticeable under her ribbed tank. She hated the rumors and assumptions, but in this case, it worked in their favor.

“Go ahead,” the nurse conceded, stepping aside. 

They stepped into a room almost identical to Mary Margaret’s. A woman sat at the window seat, clothed in a hospital gown, and stared out the window. Her auburn hair hung wild down her back and in her face. Killian and Emma stepped towards her hesitantly.

“Hello,” Emma said gently. 

She didn’t turn away from the window or acknowledge their presence. 

“Belle?” Killian said, and Emma glanced at him with concern. He shrugged. 

The woman turned then, however, and stared at them for a long, weighted moment. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice scratchy, probably from all the screaming, “that was my name once.”

They drew closer, as if approaching a skittish animal. The woman turned back to the window, humming and twirling her hair. Emma gasped, for the song she hummed was “Scarborough Fair.”

“How do you know that song?”

Belle continued to hum for a few moments, then turned and stared right at Emma. “What kind of lover acts that way? Demanding difficult tasks to prove true love? That’s not true love at all.”

Emma and Killian glanced at one another. They’d never really cared to analyze the world view of the song, but they supposed she had a point. 

“My mother said true love is the strongest magic of all.”

“Yes,” Belle turned and leaned forward, beckoning them closer, “but he hates it!”

“He?” Killian asked. “You mean Rumplestiltskin?”

Belle grabbed both of Killian’s hands. “You’ll have to be strong. You’ll have to believe in her. He didn’t count on you, and it fills him with hate!”

[killyspinacoladas]

Currently reading the most incredible, well-written Captain Swan fic where they get stuck in the past (during the CS movie storyline) and it's everything I've ever wanted. I'm dreading finishing it.

Anyone got any recommendations for CS stuck in the past fics that I can read after this one?

For this interested, this is the one I'm currently reading.

[everything-person]

Captain Swan SuperNatural Summer

I was looking so forward to this event. I had so many ideas and concepts. But real life happened and my muse ran away so i was unable to write any of my ideas no matter how hard. But with this being the last event I will not turn up empty handed so I made art for all the ideas. @cssns

TRIGGER WARNING under cut has 9 art pieces they are numbered the 9th piece contains images of blood

1.) Sands of time based on the movie/video game Prince of Persia. King Nemo ruled with his brother and right hand Jafar. The King already had sons but one day while wandering the market he found two orphan boys that showed grant potential and took them in. After invading the sacred oasis of MistHaven Killian is framed for the murder of his adoptive father. With the help of Princess Emma he escapes and finds there is more to the dagger and plot behind his fathers death then he thought.

2.) Phoenix Diamond Based off of Onward. Henry never knew his father Graham. ON his 16th birthday his mother gave him a gift from his father it was a magic wand powered by a phoenix diamond to bring Graham back for one day. He tried the spell himself but it didn't work. But when his mother touched the wand it began to glow. The spell went a miss and now they are in a race against time to find another phoenix diamond to bring him back unbeknownst to them the dangers that lie in their quest.

3.) Living in the Dark inspired by Being Human. Killian is a vampire that has stopped drinking from fresh blood. Graham is a werewolf. They get an apartment together and be roommates. They wind up renting from Emma but there's something strange about her son who randomly pops in on the guys. Everyone trying to get a sense of normal life but how can they living in the dark.

4.) Wrong Ship inspired by Doctor Who episode. Jolly Roger magically tranforms into a human woman and goes to find Killian. Confusion and misunderstanding puts a rift into Emma and Killians relationship.

5.) Sandcastles and Riptides Liam and Killian are mermen raised under their grandfather King Triton brother to King Poseidon. Emma is the princess of misthaven raised under her well meaning but over protective parents. Each of their worlds forbidden from each other but fate demands them together.

6.) The Swan and the Hook is a pirated themed story with lots of twists and turns. I know doesn't appear supernatural but trust me there was/is supernatural undertones.

7.) Witches of Storybrooke loosely based on Hocus Pocus. After Henrys mother dies he goes to live in the sleepy town in Maine. He learns the legend of three witches that used to live there and of a candle that was to bring them back to life. Hoping maybe he could find some magic to bring his mother back he ventures into the woods. But he finds there is are two sides of every story when the witches do come back.

8.) Dance with the Devil Killian succeeded in his revenge against Rumplestiltskin and turned into the Dark One as a result. For centuries he stayed in the dark ones castle until one night he heard of princesses coming of age ball. Unable to turn away the temptation he slipped into the ball and had a hypnotizing dance with a beautiful blonde before barricading himself back into his castle. What happens when he finds the same blonde battered and abused in his forest years later?

9.) How a got a pet vampire was a supernatural comedy that came about from a discord discussion of a prompt.

Those were my ideas and maybe some day I can actually write them the titles might change if I do these were just the best I could come up with.

[grimmswan]

Dracula in Storybrooke ch 8 final chapter

@cssns

For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

Once Upon A Time: Captain Swan: Emma Swan/Killian Jones

“You weren’t tempted by the prospect of immortality? Not even once?” Killian asked as they made their way out of the caves.

“The idea of living forever? Watching everyone I love die?” Emma shook her head “No. I’ve seen what living for centuries has done to you and Gold. You, at least, were in Neverland, surrounded by your crew. No one around you even aged. Gold never formed a bond with anyone. That’s probably what darkened his heart a lot faster. He’s lived for centuries, and still doesn’t understand friendship, and love. I don’t ever want that kind of existence.”

Meeting up with her parents, Emma saw that everyone Dracula had turned was back to being human.

David, seeing his daughter and her boyfriend, eyed Killian with scrutiny. “Are you back to your normal self?”

“Aye, I’m back to my usual extraordinary self.” Killian grinned.

“I’m so glad that you both are alright.” Snow hugged Emma and Killian. “It’s a relief that the theory that everyone would be human again once we got rid of Dracula was right. He is gone, right?”

Emma nodded. “Nothing but dust. We won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Now we’ll only have to worry about the next villain who will pop up in this town.” David sighed “But, that’s a worry for another day. Today, we celebrate our victories.”

“I think we should get Henry, and Regina, and have burgers and milkshakes at Granny's,” Snow proclaimed.

Everyone was in agreement and headed out to do just that.

No surprise, Henry demanded to know every detail of the epic battle. He was eager to write down another installment of his family’s heroic wins.

“That Dracula didn’t know who he was messing with.” Granny said as she brought their plates of food. “Emma would never want to become a vampire. She would have to give up onion rings.”

“And chocolate milkshakes.” Emma added, grabbing hers from the trey. “The idea of being a vampire was not nearly as tempting as Dracula thought it was.” She looked at Killian. “The trade would have certainly been a downgrade.”

A couple of nights later, when Henry was again staying at Regina’s, Emma decided to surprise Killian with a game of dress up.

Killian walked into their bedroom and stopped suddenly. His beautiful Emma was wearing an interesting set of clothes.

“It’s called a cheerleading outfit.” She explained. “I thought after slaying vampires it was appropriate. Technically, I am a vampire slayer now.”

Killian recalled Emma and Henry showing him a television play about a teenage girl who was called a slayer and fought monsters. He had thought there were many similarities to the girl on screen and the woman he was in love with, and had told Emma so. Of course Henry had loudly agreed with him and she had been greatly flattered.

She swayed her hips as she moved to him. “Do you want to reenact some of the scenes from the show?”

Killian knew just what scenes she had in mind. “Just as long as we’re not doing every scene in its entirety, I don’t want to explain to your father why our house has crumbled down around us.”

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Fic Advent Calendar - Day 1: "Decorations"

"So, everyone decorates their houses with lights?" Robin asked, holding up a coil of string lights before pushing around one of her lawn decorations. "And figurines of a man in a red suit?"

"Yes to the lights," Regina replied, amused by his reaction to Christmas decorations. "But Santa is optional. I like him and his reindeer but others may prefer snowmen. Others may like giant ornaments, and so on. Everyone is different."

He set the lights down, still frowning. "Why?"

"It's for Christmas," she replied. "It's essentially this world's version of Yule. They even use the word yule to describe it sometimes."

"So the lights are like the candles we used to put out at Yule?" he asked, rubbing his chin.

She nodded. "Yes. They shine lights during the darkest night of the year."

He seemed to understand that. But he pointed to Santa. "So what's with the man in the red coat?"

"I'll tell you that while we hang the lights," she said, holding out her hand to him. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said, taking her hand. She led him to the window, ready to introduce him to the wonders of Christmas.

She had a feeling he would love it as much as she did.

Maybe even more.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles: 2x6 Tallahassee

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump start the muse again.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 500

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22) (22)

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

Emma turned toward the hole in the wall Anton had made for her, fully intending to get the hell off this beanstalk, but a sudden thought arrested her.

Hook.

He’d kept his word, helped her more than once.  There was no question without him, she wouldn’t have the compass.  He deserved for her to keep her part of the bargain.

But she couldn’t.  She couldn’t.

She tried to tell herself it was because he was a pirate, that he couldn’t be trusted, but in her heart, she knew that wasn’t the reason.

It wasn’t that she sensed she couldn’t trust him; it was that she sensed she could, and that terrified the hell out of her.

There had been something between them from the moment she first pulled him from the pile of bodies down in the refugee village, and that something had only grown and strengthened the more time they spent together on their beanstalk adventure.

Her mind went to the moment when they’d first reached the top, the moment he’d noticed the cut on her hand and insisted on bandaging it himself.  Her face flamed and her breathing hitched at the very sight of those blue eyes looking up at her from beneath hooded lids as he took the makeshift bandage between his teeth and secured it with his mouth.

It had been sexy as all hell, there was no denying that.

But it was more than that. She’d felt a deep and inescapable pull to him in that moment that went far deeper than carnal desire.  Soulmates.  The single word had echoed in her mind as he finished his ministrations, and it continued to echo as he told her of his past heartbreak and then continued to assist her.

She hadn’t felt a pull like this to a man—to anyone—since Neal, and therein lay the problem.  She’d given Neal her entire heart and soul, trusted him with every fiber of her being, and he’d betrayed her in the most painful way.  It wasn’t just that he’d left her, wasn’t even just that he’d sent her to jail for his crime.

He’d given her a son, and through his actions, taken that son from her before she’d even had the chance to hold him.  That moment, chained to a hospital bed in the prison infirmary, had shattered the last bit of her innocence, shattered her heart so completely it could never heal again.

It was at that moment she’d promised herself she would never again let herself be so vulnerable, never again give another man the power to destroy her.

Her intuition told her she could trust Hook, but her intuition had been wrong before.  She couldn’t take a chance that she was wrong about him.

And so, she knew what she needed to do.  She didn’t need to harm Hook, only to detain him. She tamped down the guilt at what she was about to do and turned toward Anton.

“Actually, I get two favors.”

                                                                          NEXT CHAPTER-->

[4getfulimaginator2022]

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Remember This (Cygnet Scholar drabble)

requested by @accidental-spice

As the years that followed would blur together, many details of that night would too. Was it a high school prom or a grand royal ball? Had he invited her, or had she brought him? What song was playing, and who had sung it, and for how many nights prior had he prayed for a moment just like this?

But one part of that night Gideon would remember for the rest of his life: Hope leaning toward him with a spark in her eye, and the first kiss she gave him, and the lingering taste of forever on her lips.

(a/n and tags under the cut)

a/n: this one was super duper duper fun to write! it has similar vibes to spicy's birthday drabble, and that makes it even better!

taglist: @accidental-spice@kanerallels@ouatnextgen@booksteaandtoomuchtv [let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the cygnet scholar taglist!]  

📀 Spotify Wrapped Drabble Roulette

[myfearless-love]

Too Well Tangled - Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Emma Swan, Angst and Romance, Banter

Summary: England's most notorious rake has traded debauchery for daddy duty—and surprisingly loves it. Between his newborn daughter, his always-active son, and his quick-witted wife, Killian Jones discovers that domestic chaos might just be his most thrilling adventure yet. An epilogue to "Too Well Tangled"

READ HERE: AO3

BIG shout out to my amazing beta @xarandomdreamx for always catching my mistakes and leaving me smiling with her comments!!❤️

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare

@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779

@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd

@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke

@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda

@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[takemetothemoon-fics]

helpless pt1

Title: helpless pt1

Pairing: Killian Jones x reader

Word count: 984

Warnings: blood, swearing

Tags: angst, hurt-comfort

Synopsis: when reader gets really hurt, she has no choice but to go someone who is not really her friend....

A/N: I'm back!! I think this will be a multiple part story, I wanted to test something new. so the idea was that y/n arrives at his door beaten up and weak, and he has to kind of take care of her, but she's cold and doesn't wanna open up to him. enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

They got you good. Your face is bloody, and you're covered in bruises. You're a long way from home, and won't make it back in one piece, so you have only one choice.

You new his house wasn't far from where you were, so you gathered yourself and went.

You stand in his doorway, bloody and beaten up. Your knees are weak and you're on the verge of collapsing right then and there

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go" You say, weakly.

His eyes instantly show concern. While you are definitely not his friend, he's not a complete monster.

"Come inside"

You try to get over to a chair, but your legs are unstable and it causes you to stumble. He lifts you to the chair as gently as possible, and leans you back. He takes a moment to study the bruises.

"You are beaten pretty badly. Who did this to you?"

Your breathing is heavy. Blood drips out of your mouth on the floor. there's a huge cut on your face, and blood leaks from it. You exhale, not giving him a response. You don't want to open up.

He gives you a stern, but concerned look, waiting for you to speak. It's breaking his heart to see you so roughed up. If this were any of his men in this state, he would be furious.

"You got any antiseptic?" you say, with a cold tone in your voice. Anything to break the silence.

He gets to work quickly, cleaning the injuries and getting the necessary supplies for stitching it up. He takes a deep breath and asks the dreaded question

"Who did this to you, y/n?"

You wince in pain as he touches the cloth to your open wound "It's none of your concern."

He shakes his head. "Your pride is going to get you killed. I have never seen an enemy left in such a state. You can hardly walk. Tell me. Who did this."

You lean your head against the wall, closing your eyes. You let out a groan, feeling discomfort because of your wounds.

"No offence y/n, but you truly are stubborn. I'll ask again. Who did this to you?"

"Let it go Killian."

"No. This could be vital information. The person who nearly killed you could attack you again, or attack me and my men. Or we could have some common ground on this matter. Please just tell me who it was."

"It's nothing!" you yell in frustration as you stand up with trouble. "Thank you for the care. I'm going now." You stand up, regretting your decision of coming here in the first place.

He stands in front of the door and sighs, shaking his head "I can't let you leave in this condition, y/n. You are practically helpless."

"Let me leave." You try to push him aside, but you have no strength left, and it causes you to have to take a step sideways, leaning into the wall with your hands.

"You cannot leave. You are in no condition to move. If whoever attacked you finds you leaving this state, for all I know they would just finish you off. Do not be so stubborn."

"Why are you acting like this? As if you care about what happens to me."

"You may not believe me y/n, but I do care. You have caused me a great deal of grief and rage, but seeing the state you are in right now fills me with empathy. So I'm not asking you again. Who did this to you?"

"It's nothing of your concern Killian"

"I am telling you, it is my concern." He takes a deep breath "Whoever did this to you, they are not good. I am willing to set our little rivalry aside to make sure this person doesn't cause any further trouble. I am only telling you this once, y/n. Who did this to you?"

"shut up." you say, softly.

He rolls his eyes. "What a surprise, the proud, stubborn woman finally breaks." he steps closer and towers over you, looking you dead in the eyes "Who. Did. This. To. You!"

"SHUT. UP!" You yell at him, your voice shaking. Your eyes tear up a little bit. You take a deep breath and put your hands at the wall, holding yourself up.

He notices how much this is obviously hurting you. You are on the verge of tears and it takes all your strength to keep from collapsing. It secretly pains him to see you in such a state. He sighs and looks at you. He takes a step closer and places a hand on your shoulder. He speaks in a softer tone

"I know this may be a shock to you y/n. But I'm willing to put a hold on his hate for you to help you. We can put our rivalry away temporarily and focus on this matter at hand. All I ask is for you to tell me who did this to you, so that I may ensure this does not happen to you or anyone I may care for again."

"Fine. It was Sunamo and his men." You say softly, having your eyes closed.

His eyes show shock and his jaw drops at such a name. Sunamo is a sadistic monster who knows no mercy. He lets out a slow exhale. For the first time in all his time knowing her, you are showing slight trust in him. This is certainly a breakthrough.

"What did they do to you?"

You look at your shoes with a puzzled look on your face, looking for words.

"Take your time. I am not going anywhere until I get the whole story. This Sunamo is someone I have had my eye on for a while. You are not the first to suffer at his hands. What did he do?"