#so it would make more sense for Killian and Henry to have not met

[charg3rs0ck3t]

Faux promises and secret solaces.

Killian jones x reader

Warnings: it’s once upon a time, that’s the only warning you’ll need.

This is not proofread. There will probably be mistakes and I will fix them!

———————————————————————

You met him in the enchanted forest.

You fell for him in Neverland.

You lost him in Storybrooke.

You found him in your heart.

———————————————————————

The first time you met Hook, you could tell he was trouble.

He did him self no favours in trying to not be suspicious, but the others needed him so you held your tongue. Although, this was despite how much you truly wanted to rip out his tongue and shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.

The way he’d take glances at you and smirk if you were walking close by, would make backhanded compliments, flirt to get his way, pick winning sides, he was a pirate. He was a pirate and you hated him. You hated his kind.

He was exactly the sort of man Regina would have used in her pursuit of ‘revenge’, the exact sort of man that killed your father.

But he wasn’t, no matter how many times he would breathily chuckle at some comment or some face you had made, you had to hold yourself back. You had to stop yourself from killing the man who smoothly laughed even in the face of his own demise. You had to stop from wanting to punch him in the throat and strip him of that feathery and deep chortle that took away all of your fears, that freed you of your panic, and provided you a euphoria that you had personally forbidden.

He was bad for you, bad for this team, bad for this mission.

He was a bad guy.

He was a villain,

and villains don’t get happy endings.

Leaving him behind was something you and Emma had talked about, you knew she also held distrust of him. Luckily, she had already planned on abandoning him.

The bean stalk was a stroke of luck, Anton was a stroke of luck.

Sure, you felt a slight sense of remorse as you had distracted him. But, as soon as Emma has attached that shackle, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know was there. Something felt good about going back to your life of solace, your newfound life of grief. He was too wild, too unpredictable, it scared you more than anyone would ever know.

You had fully expected not to see him again.

But fate seemed to have a sense of humour.

Such a fickle thing.

———————————————————————

Going back to Storybrooke, nothing was the same.

Your life had changed.

You didn’t know if it was for the better.

But your life had changed, your old life was gone. You had to adapt. No more was it straight lines and schedules, none of the life that Regina had provided was there, instead it was constant fights and unpredictability.

You had to become as unpredictable as the dangers you faced. You turned to the memories of the man in the enchanted forest, his power hidden behind his nonchalance and his loyalty a question left unanswered.

However much you hated the man, you needed to channel some part of him to adapt, to evolve and to overcome. The curse was broken, but danger seemed ever present. The towns memories were returned, but so were their worries, their fears, their anger. Instability was the first sign of anarchy and chaos, one weakness could enact a revolution among the people. So you did as you would, a child of a royal knight, ever loyal to Snow and Prince Charming, one of whom had raised you as a child throughout the curse.

All you had was your friends and your loyalty, but you’d soon learn that wasn’t enough.

———————————————————————

Yet the man returned, Hook. Still as untrustworthy as ever and yet, he seemed less irritating when in Storybrooke, except maybe for his dangerous tendencies and antisocial behaviour.

Henry being taken by pan was devastating, but this was the unpredictability you had planned for. So you knew what to do.

———————————————————————

The ride to Neverland on the Jolly Rodger was less than pleasant. It was full of cryptic warnings and misdirected anger. Even Emma was struggling.

The mermaid that was soon brought above deck definitely didn’t help your nerves, nor did the storm that soon followed and berated the ship.

You could catch no one’s attention, you had figured that the warnings may have held some truth. This land was built on belief. There were definitely some strong negative beliefs between them all. The blame fest began, fighting ensued and you couldn’t take it. So as you searched through the rain, you caught sight of land and jumped overboard. Your thoughts were that if no one would listen, you’d at least catch someone’s attendance or make your own way to land without them.

What you didn’t account for was a bit of broken barrel being launched after you and slamming into the back of your head once you had reached the ice cold water.

Losing your breath and all reasonable thinking, you gaped your mouth like a fish, breathing in and spluttering out water to no avail.

You could feel it filling your lungs and your eyes began to close, focused on the blurry light of the moon above you, till it was covered by the shadow of someone diving in for you. But by then you were already too tired.

———————————————————————

Opening your eyes and coughing out liquid from your burning lungs seemed to have never felt so good. That was until you saw it was a particular irritating man that hovered over your jolting form, hand on your shoulder as he helped you sit up.

The storm has calmed now, and you smiled. Everyone’s focus was on you, eyes wide at the madness that had ensued.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that! See! I got the storm to stop.” You proclaimed in a broken voice, interrupted slightly by a coughing fit and a small ‘thank you’ as you were passed a blanket.

The way that David and Snow stared at you was obvious you’d get some form of scolding later, but you hadn’t cared too much for it. When the curse was first broken, they had to double check you weren’t in some way related to Jefferson with how you often acted on impulse, in supposed madness. So rest assured you were used to scolding.

Getting to the island was your priority, keeping the team together and getting Henry was your number one goal.

But you could help but notice the glances the pirate would send you when he thought you weren’t looking.

———————————————————————

Neverland was a place of pure belief. A place of magic and miracles.

———————————————————————

It seemed like as if by some miracle, you started to believe in the sincerity and goodness of a certain pirate.

Hook was caring, he was careful and serious. He was always suited to the situation, always ready. But he could also lighten the mood.

It seemed all the time that wasn’t spent avidly searching for Henry, fighting Pan or planning, he always wanted to make you laugh.

The first time you had laughed at one of his jokes, it would have been some stupid joke about his hand.

“Can you give me a hand?” David had yelled over.

“Cmon really? Last time I lent one out I didn’t even get it back!” He had hollered back in response, turning to smirk at David’s glare.

Only.. only he spun right back around when he heard a small chuckle.

Seeing you, with your back turned to him and hand coving your mouth, was all he needed to decide that you were right for him. He walked over to David with a huge smile on his face and kept stealing glances at you the entire time.

———————————————————————

Getting Henry, finding Neal alive, dealing with Rumpelstilsken. Everything felt insane.

It was all too much, you had lost Henry again to Pan, he was too powerful and you all seemed powerless.

You pulled your legs to your chest and buried your head in your knees. Making yourself small was all you could do when the world felt so big around you that it felt like it would swallow you up and you’d be nothing but a snack to a bigger cause.

Feeling a soft hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality, the reality that you had been sat sobbing into your arms after you had ran off from the main camp.

At first you were afraid, was this hand malicious, was it Pan?

But after hearing a feathery throat clearing, you raised your head to meet eyes with Killian.

“Killian? What’s up? I thought you’d be with David or Emma.” You muttered out in response to his presence.

“Y’know, I’m not sure Miss swan or her doting ‘same-age parents are too fond of me. Plus we both know that I can’t exactly tell one hand jokes to Regina lest I want to lose that and another appendage id much like to keep..” he takes a breath whilst you smile at his sarcasm. “Plus, You’re the only one who calls me my name, I’m getting sick of ‘Hey you’ ‘Oi’ ‘pirate’ or if they’re really creative, I get to hear ‘asshole’, would that be pleasant for you m’lady?” You laugh and shake your head in response.

“No, I suppose not kind sir~.” You tease him, just wanting to stay in the moment, it felt light and airy, for the first time in days you felt free. “Although I’m honoured you’d grace me with your presence, I sure hope it’s not because I’m the only one who doesn’t currently want to stab you?”

He turns to look at you, “Of course not, for a royal knight though, surely you should be the one to want to stab me most of all. Maybe it’d be better that way.” He moves in, close to your face, as you are enamoured with gazing into his eyes.

“I’m sure they can handle themselves, Four powerful people after you if you do anything wrong, I think I should be okay to try and resign from stabbing at the moment. Plus, if anything were to happen I’m sure I could accept the consequences.” He grabs your chin and smiles.

“You? Face the consequences? Perhaps you just are afraid to accept you might actually have fallen for me~” He pulls you into a short and passionate kiss. Grinning against your lips as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Not a chance pirate!” You tease as you stand up and begin to walk away, sporting a mischievous grin of your own.

But before you could walk further he grabbed your wrist and was suddenly stood right in front of you.

“Mark my words sweetheart, I’ll have your heart, we’ll take it as slow as you need but I will have it, as you’ve enslaved mine.” And as you turned your head away to think on what he had said, he had already walked off deeper into the forest.

Okay, maybe you did like him.

———————————————————————

Your return to Storybrooke was perfect, you could live the life you had whispered plans of every night since that moment in Neverland.

It was meant to be your fairytale ending.

Meant to be.

———————————————————————

Falling asleep every night, Hook would sit there hands running through your hair as you laid your head in his lap.

Every night he would repeat one sentence

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Except one night, when he wasn’t.

You woke up one night. Checking the clock next to you it was some time around 1 in the morning.

You weren’t sure what had woken you up until you heard sounds of struggling and choking. It was Killian! He sounded in pain.

You rushed down to see Pans shadow ripping Killian’s as he struggled against the figure.

Catching a glimpse of you, the shadow tore the other from your lovers frame and stole them both. Dragging them from the home as you chased and screamed for help, for Killian, for anyone.

You pinched yourself, you screamed until your throat went raw and your mouth ran dry, you yelled and sobbed until you had half of the town surrounding you, trying to figure out what had happened.

In your worn voice you could get out two sentences.

“Pans back.” “Killian’s gone.”

That was all you could force out before you fell to the floor, soon encased in a warm pair of arms trying to lift you back into the house. The house that you had just lost everything in. The house that was meant to have been your home.

———————————————————————

It had been months since the incident, months of failed attempts and grieving.

But you had had enough of being sad.

Nothing was going to save you, no one was going to save you, so you were going to save yourself.

One day you got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth and hair, and went into work.

Life had to continue as normal, you had to ignore the concerned glances and you had to hope the eye bags would go away on their own.

So life went on, it went on without him. Although it hurt, it needed to, the world couldn’t stop for another 28 years, everyone couldn’t just forget again.

However much you wished they could.

———————————————————————

Emma and David had been trying to interrogate the shadow for months now. They had decided to keep Regina’s torture methods away and just had to hope that a non physical being had some form of conscience.

In those months they had nothing.

Nothing until the shadow gave off a mirage, a realm of bodies and their shadows caring for them.

And in the middle of it all was him.

The man you cared about most.

Killian.

———————————————————————

Waking up to a breathy humming and the feeling of hands in your hair wasn’t unusual.

In your grief, you had accidentally began to see Killian. You’d see him every morning, you’d see him at dinner, you’d even make him an extra plate.

You knew he wasn’t real.

But you needed to cope somehow.

There was a hole in your heart and you couldn’t just fill it with a child like Regina could.

This morning felt real though, it felt too real. But it also felt too good to be true.

You opened your eyes to see him where he usually sat, next to you, hands in your hair playing with the strands.

“Why must you torture me every morning.” You muttered. “He’s gone and he’s never coming back.. I’m never gonna wake up to him ever again so just! Just go away!”

You yelled.

You’ve been yelling at your hallucination of him a lot lately.

Usually he’d disappear, actually, every single time he’d disappear. But you turned around from where you were now sat up and he was still there.

He stared at you, tears in his eyes, reaching out for your cheek. He needed to touch you again.

“Killian..?” You whimpered out.

“I told you I’d be here when you woke up” he said, tears streaming down his face as he tackled you and held you in his arms.

You both sobbed. You cried like you hadn’t seen each-other in years. You held each-other like the other would slip out of grasp and disappear again.

You were here.

He was here.

You had him back, you had your home and he had your heart.

And in his heart he knew he’d never let you go ever again.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Darkness Before Dawn (Leave Hope's Light On)"

This week's Self Promo fic is another older chaptered CS story that I am bringing back “out of the vault” lol ;p.  Though there will certainly be some angst this time around, there is also a happy ending - I promise. This one is a post-Christmas/New Year's themed one, and it takes place between the 4a and 4b timelines of the show (i.e. after the defeat of the Snow Queen, but before Gold returns with the Queens of Darkness) and diverges from there.

Summary: A lovely holiday season has come and gone, and Emma hates to see it end. However, much more pressing concerns quickly take precedence when she and Henry are in a wreck. Now the Savior is fighting for her life, and those who love her can only hope she'll find her way out of the darkness one more time...

*Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if you would prefer...

(I've posted all five parts in this Tumblr post for ease of reading)

by: @snowbellewells

i. prologue

Only three days after Christmas, and Emma Swan finds herself driving Henry back to Regina's where he will stay until New Year's Day. She can't help but feel that the holiday has passed her by in a flash, and she is loath to give up the sense of her first real Christmas with her family, and especially her son, around her. Though she is ridiculously grateful that she and Regina have worked out a schedule agreeable to both of them and Henry; now she is afraid that with Henry gone for several days, all the leftover bits of holiday magic, pure, innocent joy, and the light that might still be lingering, will go with him.

Shaking her head, Emma sighs as she glances across at her son in the passenger seat, lost to the newest app on his iPhone and luckily oblivious to her gloomy thoughts. There is no doubt in her mind that she is being more than a bit silly, but that doesn't make the feeling disappear. Realistically she knows that Regina truly needs Henry right now; he is the one bright spot in a horrible time of loss for the formerly Evil Queen. Emma doesn't want to begrudge the other woman what little joy she can find. Yes, Henry needs to spend the time with his adoptive mother, but Emma still hates to see him go, even for a few days. So much of Emma's life has been spent alone, with no one to care about her, much less be there to share Christmas traditions, and she feels a near-insatiable need to horde the precious moments now that she has them.

It has been more fun that she could have guessed taking Henry to her mom and dad's to help them trim the tree, watching F rosty the Snowman and How the Grinch Stole Christmas , helping Snow bake dozens and dozens of sugar cookies, both to decorate and eat themselves, and then passing the rest out to seemingly everyone in town. She wants to make the warm and jolly December evenings they've spent laughing cozily together last forever, so she will never lose the feeling of being curled up between Killian, whose arm stretches lazily along the back of the couch and over her, and her father, chuckling at Henry as he makes faces to entertain his baby uncle and exclaims over his presents. Emma knows they all felt similar emotions at times, like when her watery eyes met her mother's over the boys' heads and a lump rose in her throat. This year has brought her more of a holiday that she could have ever imagined having a part in as a cynical, unwanted foster child years ago. Killian's arms have tightened around her numerous times in the last few days, and she has known that he understands all too well from the life he had lived. Her father seems to find every possible moment to squeeze her hand in his, as if reminding her that they had always wanted her with them like this.

Without realizing it, Emma lets her mind wander and loses focus for the briefest of instants. It happens so quickly that cause or fault will never be clear. Emma only glances at Henry beside her for a moment; takes her glance off the road no longer that she would need to adjust the heat or the radio volume. Yet, somehow, they hit an unseen patch of black ice on the wintry road, going at full travel speed. The Bug skids, back end fishtailing out one way, and then almost up even with the front, putting the vehicle perpendicular to its original path on the pavement. Emma scrambles to right them, and Henry calls out a warning, but it happens too slowly and isn't enough. Their little yellow car shoots offcourse, seemingly flying from the road and directly into a pole at the shoulder.

Mother's instinct makes Emma's arm dart out in a desperate effort to shield her son, and she feels – with both hope and fear – some of her magical energy leaving her fingertips almost like second nature, in an attempt to protect him. It is the last thing she feels before impact, and then her world goes dark.

ii. the call

"Mom! Mom!" Henry snaps out of the daze he hovered in after the sudden stop and the settling of the car. He can see snowflakes falling thickly through the cracked windshield, and bitterly cold air is filtering in, though he doesn't remember it snowing before they skidded. If his mom had not told him the Snow Queen was dead, and actually hadn't been evil, he would blame the unseen ice and strange drop in temperature while they were vulnerable on her. It doesn't really matter now, but he is still trying to get his bearings and stop his head from spinning. For an odd second or two, it’s like he is in a vacuum; roaring in his ears and dizziness makes him off balance and sluggish, but when his mind clears and he sees his birth mother slumped over the steering wheel, a thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face, eyes closed, not moving, his concern bursts through the haze.

Henry realizes that she must have used her magic to cushion him somehow and didn't have time to do the same for herself. Yet, even as he registers what she has done, the air around him seems to waiver, flicker, and whatever shield she put in place weakens and fades, allowing him to reach beyond it and touch her carefully, worriedly, enough to see that she makes no response.

"Mom…can you hear me?" he tries again. When he still gets no movement or reaction, Henry begins scrabbling around in the seat, then on the floor, until he finds his phone where it has fallen in the confusion. Swiping the screen quickly, Henry calls his other mom, then his Gramps, in rapid succession – once he has gotten an ambulance on its way.

As far as the teen can tell, nothing seems to hurt and he is completely uninjured. The car is caved in clear to the windshield from where it smashed into the pole head-on, but his door isn't blocked. He can get out, but is determined not to leave his mom until help arrives. Whatever Emma did to shield him came at the expense of her own safety, and Henry swallows back both guilt and fear for her at that knowledge. He is momentarily glad to be alone when he feels tears welling in his eyes.

Reaching over the console to grasp his mom's fingers in his, Henry threads them together and forces himself to hope it will all be fine. Her skin feels cold to the touch, and his brow furrows in concern. "Come on, Mom. Hang in there," he murmurs to her fervently, leaning in as though he can assure that she will hear him. "Please."

For some reason, as the silence stretches on and Henry worries more the longer she remains still, he realizes who he has forgotten to call in his anxiety. Killian will have to be told and will be crazed with worry for his mom. How he didn't think to call his mom's boyfriend until now baffles him. Killian will be frantic to get to Emma, to help, to see that she is okay, and he deserves to be with her. Henry genuinely likes the reformed pirate. He has more than earned his place at Emma's side. Hating what he knows it will do to the Captain, Henry also can't put this call off. Dialing once more, the young man waits as he hears the phone ring two, then three, times before Killian Jones picks up, sounding half-confused, half-exasperated at the modern contraption in his hand.

His accent is clear through the wire as he asks, "Henry? What is it, lad? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine. Just listen to me, okay?" Henry swallows hard, not sure what to say, how to deliver what he knows will be an awful blow. Yet, one glance at his mom's still, expressionless face, and he knows he has no choice … Killian might even be able to reach her. Henry is no fool. Both sets of his grandparents are True Loves – and he sees something just as deep and strong, if not as clearly understood, between his mom and Killian.

"Aye, lad," the Captain's voice breaks back in to agree. "My apologies. I will simply listen then."

Henry draws in a deep breath. He hates having to put this into words, but then blurts it out in a pained rush, not trailing off until the end. "Mom and I had a wreck. The ambulance is on its way, and they'll help, but Mom hasn't woken up yet. She's hurt, and I thought you should know what was happening. …I'm sorry…"

Drawing in such a sharp breath it sounds like he has taken a physical blow, Killian is stunned by the news. His chest tightens at the mere thought of Emma and Henry in pain or danger, and his mind is already racing to where she is and how quickly he can get there, what he can do. Yet, in the next moment, he knows there is something else he must take care of first. He can tell immediately by the lad's tone that he is already feeling guilt at being alright when Emma is not, and also at having to be the bearer of such awful news. He speaks firmly, and with intent when he responds. "No, lad, none of that. You need not apologize. You did not cause this, and you should not feel sorry at being unharmed. I have no doubt that is how Emma wanted it. Understood?"

Henry nods reluctantly before realizing that Killian can't see him, then manages a begrudging, "Understood."

"Where are you?" Killian asks, already moving around his rented room at Granny's to throw on his coat and grab the grey knitted scarf that Emma had brought him just a few days ago with a gentle smile and concern that he would take a chill. He is already reaching for the door as he adds, "I'm on my way to you, just tell me the direction."

"Head to the hospital – that's where we'll be."

"I will see you there, lad. I'm starting off as we speak."

"Killian," Henry breaks in again, strangely sounding as if he wants to reassure his mom's boyfriend, even though he is the one who has been in the wreck and is sitting beside his unconscious mother, "I know you were there once. Remember, they patched you up, even though you'd been hit by a car. They kept my gramps alive when he would have died for sure in the Enchanted Forest. They kept me stable when I ate the poisoned apple. They'll help Emma too. They have to! She's going to be alright. Just…I'll see you there, okay?"

"Aye, of course, lad," Killian assures, hearing both the pleading note in the boy's voice and the need to have his hope confirmed. The pirate already feels himself growing more frantic every second, wondering just how bad it is, but he can still try to give her boy a bit of comfort before he gives into his own fear. Though he speaks calmly to Henry, the desperate thoughts are already swirling inside his head. 'What if she doesn't wake? ' His beautiful, blunt, brave sheriff-princess, and he might never speak to her again, nor see her lovely green eyes sparkle with mischief. Killian shakes his head roughly, forcing that line of thought away. 'Not again. Not this time. Swan is strong. She will come back to me.' Killian has to believe that he will not suffer the loss of someone else he loves; even his life cannot be so cruel. "I'll be there as fast as I possibly can," he finishes saying to Henry, hoping the boy will be somewhat appeased; it’s all he has to offer.

"Good. Come find Gramps and me when you do, alright? ... And Killian?" Henry's voice fades for a moment, then adds, "You be careful. Mom will need you when she wakes up."

~~~~~000~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hanging up the phone, Henry lets out a breath of relief. Things aren't really any better, but the part he had been dreading is done. He looks back over to Emma, covering her hand with his own still-growing one, trying not to dwell on the chill to her skin. "Killian's on his way. Neither one of us want to lose you, Mom. I know you've had to do it a lot, but keep fighting. Stay with us."

Soon he hears sirens blaring, and then his grandpa peals up behind them in the town's outdated patrol car and runs to the Bug, ambulance wheeling in right behind him. Next thing Henry knows, David is jerking open the door and crushing his grandson to his chest. "Henry! Are you alright?!" he asks, drawing in a sharp breath as he sees his injured daughter over Henry's head. The EMTs are already easing her out of the car and onto a backboard for the trip to the hospital, and all he can really do is clasp Henry to him more tightly and watch. He feels the boy shaking slightly, even as he tries so hard to be strong. As a father, he wants to ask so many questions about his daughter. 'Has she spoken at all?' 'Opened her eyes?' 'What made her lose control of the car?' But he holds back, comforting his daughter's child instead. There is nothing he can do to help beyond that anyway.

Easing Henry out and guiding him with a hand around his shoulders, David ushers his grandson into the cruiser, studiously ignoring the sniffles the teen is trying to hide. He rounds the front of the vehicle, sliding behind the wheel and immediately turning it around to follow the ambulance. Still, he brakes for a moment, making eye contact with Henry and holding it determinedly. "She’s going to be fine. Trust me," he vows, knowing he shouldn't make such a promise, but unable to believe anything else. His daughter has been through so much to find her happy ending; it cannot be taken from her now. He hears Snow's eternally optimistic voice in his head, telling them to keep hoping, and he will not do anything less.

Henry merely nods in acceptance of his words though, and silence settles over them again as they make their way to the hospital.

iii. keeping vigil

Killian Jones cannot turn off the fear that has overtaken his mind – the worries for her, and the feelings of helplessness, that there is nothing he can do for Emma. He spends the whole walk – more run really – to the hospital with his heart in his throat, feeling it trying to choke him, in almost as much agony as when the Crocodile had held the organ and squeezed it in torture. His heart might as well be ash without her.

Unwanted visions of Emma lying pale and cold, as Milah had in death so long ago on the deck of his ship, flit across his brain – vicious waking nightmares that he cannot seem to banish. It pains him that he is already thinking the worst, when he knows he should not. Just as he once told Emma himself, his Swan too is a survivor. She has been proving so her entire life, and certainly as long as he has known her. Still, Killian cannot quell the near-paralyzing fear; he has lost everyone he ever loved, and he will not survive the loss of Emma as well, nor does he wish to.

Upon reaching Storybrooke General, Killian barrels into the ER, searching for Henry and David anxiously, and finding them in hard, plastic chairs in the waiting room to the right. "Henry! Dave!" he calls out, rushing toward them even as he gets their attention. "Have you had any news? How is she? Can we see her?" He does not mean to deluge them with questions, or to seem frantic in front of her worried son and her father, but he must know.

"Easy, Hook," David cautions, reaching out to place a steadying hand on his shoulder, "take a breath. We'll tell you what we know, but it isn't much at this point. We're going to have to wait."

Killian gives a curt nod and does try to draw in a deep, centering breath. He dearly wants to yell at the Prince, to rail at him for his seeming composure and for telling him to wait on word. Emma cannot wait; he needs to reach her. Instead, he forces the words down, blowing out a tense breath, reminding himself that David loves Emma as well, and is trying to help. "Fine," he grits, making his voice as controlled as possible, though still aching for something to hold onto, practically trembling with the effort of holding his body still, to appear calm. "Just please tell me what you know."

David nods, motioning for Killian to take the empty seat between himself and Henry, after moving their coats off it. "Emma's car hit a patch of ice. There didn't seem to be any others on the route they were traveling; it was just a freak chance of nature as far as anyone can tell. It was cold and starting to snow, and it just happened. They were traveling at road speed, so it's really a miracle Henry isn't in worse shape too."

"No miracle," Henry mutters, looking at his shoes forlornly, bitterness in his tone as he interrupts. "She threw her hand up, used her magic on instinct somehow to protect me, and she let herself get hurt."

Realization dawns on the Prince's face, as if he completely understands something that had been puzzling him. He doesn't comment on his thoughts though, instead moves as if to get up and embrace Henry. Killian jumps in first, getting Henry's attention and making sure the teen is looking at him. "Henry, what did I tell you on the phone? You can't blame yourself. Emma loves you more than anyone else in this world. She would never want to see you hurt if she could prevent it. There is no shame in that. She is your mother and will feel that way whether you are 13 or 33. She would not want you burdened by this, that I know."

"Hook's right," David seconds, making sure that his grandson knows no one believes Henry could or should have done anything more than he has.

Henry doesn't speak to agree or argue, but he seems less angry at any rate, and Killian's worry finally urges him to ask David to continue with his news of Emma.

Sighing, David does as he requests. "Regardless, Emma sustained a serious blow to the head, most probably from the dashboard, on impact. She almost certainly has a concussion, and she hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness. They have her in a private room under observation, monitoring to make sure she doesn't develop any subdural hematoma that puts undue pressure on the brain. If that happens, they will have to go in to surgically relieve it…" The Prince's face is grim as he tries to explain what he has been told, and Killian does not like the troubled expression the royal's eyes take on.

"Let us hope it does not come to that, mate," he offers awkwardly, not sure how else to provide comfort.

They sit in silence for a time, until Regina arrives. She and Henry leave to walk elsewhere in the hospital for a bit. Killian is honestly glad that Queen is here; she loves Henry dearly, and has raised him. She knows as well as anyone could what to do for him and what to say to him in this situation.

He clears his throat once they are alone and asks, "Is anything else being done for her? Can we see her? Sit with her? Anything?"

David shakes his head, trying to dissuade Killian before he goes up against the doctors and the hospital itself. "Right now, they aren't letting anyone in. She needs to be in a quiet, non-stimulating environment. When the doctor spoke to me, they didn't even want her to have visitors. After that, Dr. Whale assured me he would see what they could do. He said that her pulse was slow and a bit thready, while her blood pressure was up, and that her pupils were somewhat unequal in size. Both are concerns if she doesn't wake soon, and could indicate her unconsciousness deepening."

Thankfully, David pauses to draw breath and let that much settle in. Killian honestly does not know how much more he can stand, picturing Emma alone and helpless in such a fragile state. He wishes to be at her side, even if merely to hold her hand. She might have no awareness of him at all, but if there is any part of her which senses that she is alone, he would rather believe that she could sense if he were near as well. Killian knows that Emma's father is about to finish giving him what information he has, and is steeling himself for it, when they are interrupted by Regina and Henry's return and the arrival a few moments later of a harried-looking Dr. Whale.

"Any news on Miss Swan?" Regina asks brusquely of the doctor, cutting across both Emma's love and her father. Her voice sounds sharp and matter of fact, but Killian senses more care under the surface than he imagines Regina intends to show. She may be here for Henry's benefit most, but over time the Captain has seen her come to hold a grudging respect for his tough, no-nonsense Swan. They are qualities the former mayor has as well, and appreciates in others.

Whale looks startled by this new person firing questions at him, but as the prince does not seem to object, he answers anyway. "Not much has changed since I spoke with you last. Ms. Swan has withstood a significant blow to the head and is dealing with a concussion as a result. Her unconsciousness is a serious issue and must be monitored, but is not uncommon with this sort of injury. As long as her pulse returns to normal and her other vital signs remain stable, we are cautiously optimistic that she will wake once her body has had time to recover. If she remains unconscious through the night, we will make sure she is equipped to receive adequate nutrition intravenously in the morning. She will also need to be watched for respiratory difficulty or inability to swallow. However, we will deal with those issues if they arise. In the meantime, I am prepared to allow one visitor at a time, as long as each visitor remains quiet and calm."

Emma's four gathered visitors assure him that they understand all he has said and will abide by his orders; then they are led to the room where Emma rests. Killian is more than willing to allow Swan's father and her boy to each take their turns before him; he is so relieved to see her at all. Besides, once he reaches her side again, he has no intention of leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly two hours have passed when Killian Jones is finally allowed to slip into the silent room Emma occupies and be near her at last. It is nearing 9 o'clock in the evening, and he knows he could not have stood being kept from her much longer. David has gone home to update and reassure Snow, who had stayed with the baby, and all three of them will be back bright and early in the morning. Henry has left as well, with Regina only minutes ago, surprising Killian by wrapping his skinny arms around the pirate's waist in a tight, wordless grasp and furtively wiping a silent tear from his face as he pulled away. "Take care of her, Captain," he had murmured lowly, making Killian aware that the lad knew his intention not to leave her.

"Aye, lad," he had responded in a voice equally low. "Have no doubt of that."

Moving across the room dimly washed in the moon's glow through the blinds, he tentatively reaches Emma and looks down on her before sinking into the chair nearby. For a moment, words are lost to him as he wonders how to reach her. He studies her beautiful, pale features, unable to stop gazing on her as his hand comes up to lightly trace over her cheek.

Speech seems pointless in the stillness of the room and her unflinching slumber. He only wants Emma to know that she is not alone, that she is loved, that he would do anything to bring her back. Bending to place a kiss upon her brow, Killian only whispers, "Darling, if you can hear me…please come back to us, Love. I need you. Your boy needs you. I promise…I will be right here when you wake." He threads his fingers with hers, leaning over the bed rail to keep his face even with hers, to watch in hopes of seeing her eyes flutter open again.

And so he begins the vigil he will keep, no matter how long, until she returns to him.

iv. drifting

Unbeknownst to Emma Swan, New Year's Eve dawns clear and bright, a brittle chill in the air, but a piercing sunlit sky overhead as well. Her son, her family, and her devoted pirate captain have all been waiting, watching, hoping she will wake, wishing each time a new sun rises that her eyes will open to see it and return to them. With a little one at home, David and Snow take turns visiting the hospital in the morning and afternoon while the other stays home with the young prince. As they do everything, the two royals work it out seamlessly between them, an unbreakable team. They set a routine of arriving at 7:00 a.m. – coffee and doughnut in hand for Killian – and never fail to carry on hoping, letting not a single moment of weakness show or a second of doubt that any day now their daughter will be awake to return their morning greeting.

Killian has not left Emma's side since he was allowed in her room that first night. One determined night shift nurse had attempted to shoo him out at midnight, but the words had died on her lips as she entered to find him seated at the sheriff's bedside – silent as stone, fingers of his one good hand tangled with hers, hook resting on the covers where the metal gleamed sharply in the dim light. He had raised a dark brow in questioning challenge, but had not moved or made a sound. No direct threat had been uttered, but it was clear he was not going anywhere without a fight, and from then on they had allowed him to remain.

Regina brings Henry faithfully as well, timing it so that Emma and Killian are not alone long after whichever of her parents has made the afternoon visit is gone. In truth, Killian is grateful for the company. He can only sit so long talking to Emma with no response – no twinkle of her laughing eyes, no sassy comebacks for his best witty flirtations – without wanting to beg her to return, to collapse to his knees, to give into the tide of despair he feels hovering in the back of his consciousness as each day and then night goes by with no change in her.

An IV has been put in, to get fluids and nutrients to her, and though he knows it was necessary, Killian feels a sense of nausea climb up his throat at the thought of her being so helpless, how much she would hate not even being able to feed herself or take a drink of water. His Swan is stubborn to a fault, not willing to give up an inch, wanting to handle all that life throws at her with her own strength and her own two hands. If she were aware of what was going on around her, it would be driving her mad. What really sends him over the edge though is the confirmation that she truly is not present with him; she doesn't know what is happening around her and she can't do it for herself. He continually has to push down the fear that she will not ever again.

After the first two days, it is determined that there is no further swelling or dangerous intracranial pressure. Continued observation reveals Emma's pulse and blood pressure regulating back to normal and her pupils' return to near equal size. Each note is received gratefully by her loved ones, but Emma remains in her distant, suspended state. Dr. Whale tries to caution them all that the brain has its own way and time frame for healing. They need to stay positive, keep visiting and talking to her. He assures them that he has no indication she will not come out of her coma once her body is fully healed and ready, but he also cannot explain to them why it has not already occurred.

A feeding tube is mentioned on the night Emma has been in the hospital a week, and Killian is more relieved than words can say when her father protests rather strongly, asking them to give her a day or two more to wake up before taking that step. The process would not have driven Killian away; he would have been there at her side, squeezing her hand in his, trying to offer her comfort whether Emma was aware of it or not, but seeing plastic tubing forced down his love's throat while she is unaware and can't fight back or speak for herself on the matter – even if it is meant to help her – seems somehow cruel and barbaric to him. Killian honestly is not sure he has the resolve to stand by and allow it without falling apart, much less to be present and watch.

Gradually, with his extended constant presence, the former pirate has grown on Emma's two regular nurses. Though both the day and night nurses had been disapproving at first of this dark, forbidding man disregarding all their rules and haunting their halls, his obvious devotion, his desire to do anything he could to help, and his charming nature had won them over. The day nurse now greets him as she arrives each morning, giving him a maternal smile and encouraging his hope by asking if there has been any change in Emma over the night. The night nurse has more than once covered him with a blanket upon her arrival, finding him asleep in the chair right next to Emma's bed. She cannot help but admire a man who loves that deeply and holds on so tightly; she finds herself anxiously awaiting their little town's sheriff waking to see who she has in her corner.

As Emma's unconsciousness stretches beyond a week, and then two, the hospital staff watches more carefully than ever for respiratory distress. Due to her inability to swallow, they begin suctioning her mouth and trachea when necessary, wanting to prevent any chance of aspiration. After failing to get Killian to leave while the procedure is accomplished, they show him how Emma must first be turned to lie on her side, and he then gently holds her in place while they carry out their task. Emma's pirate remains undeterred by anything she needs from him, only wanting to aid in her comfort, to do anything that might help, might keep her safe until she returns to them. His hands are steadying on her shoulders; he can tell that even unawares the suctioning must cause discomfort from the crinkle that forms between her brows, which he lovingly smoothes with a tender touch. He aches to take the distress from her, and so he watches over her religiously, brushing her hair back from her clammy forehead, watching for even the tiniest hint of movement.

Once all visitors and staff have cleared out for the night and they are alone again, that is when Killian Jones can do nothing more than pull the blankets back over her, take her hand once more, kiss her palm, and whisper to her. "Come, Love, surely you've had more than enough of this. Open your eyes, Darling…please. I am not giving up on you. I know you can find your way back. You are too stubborn by half to let this beat you. This…cannot…be your end."

It is only then, as darkness falls in the middle of the night, the halls are quiet, and Killian is sure no one will see, that he lets his strength crumble. His weeping is silent and fleeting, but his shoulders shake, unable to throw off the fear that his princess has finally gone where he cannot follow.

~~~~~~000~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~0000~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma feels as though she is swimming through a hazy dream world, floating unaware and unconcerned by any of the worries, any of the cares that normally tie her down. She feels no pressure, no impending doom from some new villain, no worry over whether she is doing right by her son, spending enough time with her new baby brother and her parents, serving her newfound home as both sheriff and princess the way all expect of her. No sounds disturb the easy quiet surrounding her, wrapping her up like a warm, soft blanket. It almost feels as though she could close her eyes and sleep for hours, days even, and it wouldn't matter at all. There would be nothing to stop her.

As quickly as that thought comes though, her calm is somehow shaken by a tremor of fear. Sleep for days? No one there to notice or worry about her? No sounds, nothing to see, nothing to do? Something isn't right, and on the heels of that realization comes the awareness that she cannot seem to open her eyes to see where she is or what is happening. She cannot make her arms and legs move or respond to her gradually growing distress. Emma wants to open her mouth to cry out, but her lips don't part and no sound escapes. The cozy grey haze that had seemed so comforting mere moments ago has become a thickening fog strangling her and pulling her down into its depths.

A soothing croon breaks through the darkness surrounding her. Emma cannot immediately place the speaker, but she knows instinctively that this is a voice she loves, a voice she feels comforted by amidst the nothingness surrounding her. "Open your eyes, Darling…please…" the lilting voice pleads, and desperately, painstakingly, with every bit of determination and energy she came muster, Emma moves toward that sound – or at least she attempts to. She surfaces from the sea of swirling fog and finally opens her eyes.

v. welcome back, love

Joyous pandemonium is not an exaggeration for the scene in Emma's room just an hour after her waking. Despite Dr. Whale and the nurses' repeated cautions that they are still in a hospital, that the other patients should not be disturbed, and that Emma should not be overexcited after being unconscious for so long, Emma's family can't help their enthusiasm and relief. Henry is unable to cease motion; one moment he practically bounces on the balls of his feet at the foot of her bed, and the next he shuttles forward to hug her again, as tightly as he dares, and then backs away as if afraid he will break her.

For her own part, Emma never wants her son to let go, but she is still dazed and can barely speak around the lump in her throat, so she wordlessly lets him do as he will. She catches Regina's eye over his head more than once, and though the queen only gives her a silent nod of understanding, Emma senses that even her former adversary is relieved at her return. David keeps bringing her water, trying to smuggle snacks to her, and pestering her for anything else she might need which he can fetch. Snow simply stands at her shoulder, looking at her with a teary smile, and bouncing Emma's baby brother gently in her arms. It is more than a bit chaotic after the absolute peace and quiet Emma has been stuck in for so long…and she loves it.

It had been a different matter when she first opened her eyes an hour ago. Relief had flooded through her upon finding Killian there, fingers of his good hand wound up with hers, speaking to her through the quiet dark. Emma had been so glad she was not irrevocably lost in the grey vacuum of her subconscious that it had taken her a few stunned, blinking moments before registering her sailor's motionless shock, and how he could not cease staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes over tear-streaked, unshaven cheeks - drinking her in as though she might vanish from his sight once more and trying several times to speak before finally stuttering out her name. "Em – Emma? You can hear me?"

She wanted to tease him, to break the tense emotional stakes and make him laugh the hearty, uninhibited guffaw she had only recently learned he possessed. Instinctively though – knowing what he must have gone through if he was sitting there looking as bedraggled as he did while she found herself in a hospital bed – Emma bit back any smart retort on the tip of her tongue and squeezed Killian's hand gently, merely nodding her head in response to his question. She realized just how dry and unused her throat felt anyway; speech seemed a bit more of a challenge than she had expected.

Killian had not seemed at all disappointed by her stillness. The smile that crept over his face at her barest of responses was near blinding and adorably accented by the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Leaning over her, he delicately cradled Emma's face in hand and hook, then kissed her forehead. It might have appeared awkward to an outside observer, but Emma found the gesture immensely comforting. Still gaining her bearings, she swallowed hard, looking up to him for answers.

Her captain seemed to understand, as he always did, what she was thinking. "You've been out for more than two weeks, Swan. And…I will admit…you had me worried." He paused, seeming to need a moment to rein in his own reaction, brushing his fingers through her hair as he did. When he continued, his voice was suspiciously husky. "I must go find your doctor. He will no doubt want to check you over now that you're awake. I shall call your boy and your parents too; they have missed you tremendously."

She nodded her agreement, sensing that Killian hesitated to leave her alone, and gave him an encouraging smile. Secretly, she was thinking how good it felt to wake up to someone looking on her with such love. It was something she had been missing her entire life, and with him, it had been there the whole time – she had only needed to finally see. Twice in the last month, she had nearly lost this; first to Gold's attempt to crush Killian's heart, and now to her accident. Suddenly, Emma was clear on just how much she would be missing without this man in her life, how much she wanted to rest in his adoring gaze every night and wake up to it each morning.

His small upturn of the mouth showed once again that Killian possessed the ability to read at least some small portion of what was on her mind. "I will be but a moment," he assured her as he stood, then leaned back in with a whisper in her ear and teasing glint of white teeth in a happy grin. "Welcome back, Love."

Now, in the midst of the rest of her loved ones, and the night nurse who Emma can immediately see has fallen right under the spell of her pirate's irresistible charm, hugs are flying non-stop, and everyone seems to chatter and laugh at once, both in trying to fill her in on all that she has missed, and back and forth with each other. Emma feels wrapped in a warm, noisy nest of chatter and touch and genuine belonging, and instead of feeling smothered or pressured to respond in the right way, she simply feels happy and grateful to be back.

Killian is still hovering at her elbow. He smiles and nods along with what is said, responds when he is spoken to, but she can tell he is still shaken, still anxiously watching her, making sure she is alright. It is as though he had sat beside her standing guard for so long, fearing she was about to be snatched away from him, that he cannot yet relax and believe the ordeal is over.

As their miniature party breaks up and the rest of the group files out with embraces and promises to return in the morning when she is at last released to go home, Emma finds herself wondering how to comfort him. It was not so long ago that she had been standing frozen in the clock tower, powerless to do anything but watch as the Dark One prepared to kill her pirate. The anguish on his face when their eyes had met in that terrible moment; the corresponding pressure gripping her own chest as his heart was squeezed, and the irrevocable knowledge that Killian was slipping away from her against her will, were still incredibly fresh. The memory haunted her in ways she did not know how to express or assuage. Emma was all too well acquainted with how Killian might be feeling now, but what she didn't know was if she could provide any comfort when she had been the reason for his pain.

"Hey," she whispers, holding out a hand to him, urging her pirate closer to where the bed was raised for her to mostly sit up and interact with her guests more easily, "come here, Captain." Her voice is still a bit hoarse and strained from disuse, but Killian hears it immediately and is at her side almost before she has finished speaking. He had still been at the door from seeing everyone off, but upon her request, he is with her in an instant.

"What is it, Love? Are you in pain? Do you need something?" His hand hovers over her anxiously, smoothing back her hair and brushing over her shoulder, not sure where to settle.

If she doesn't stop him, Emma is pretty sure he will dart away again, off to fetch her something she doesn't even want, when all she needs is him – to draw him close and let him hold her. She isn't sure which one of them needs the contact more, but it has become a desperate necessity. "No! Killian, wait…" she swallows and licks her lips, trying to make her voice sound less scratchy and to gather her nerve. It may be the lingering weakness in her system, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable, but she finds herself needing to take the leap, to let Killian know he is as important to her as she is to him. "I'm fine. It's just…I just…I need you."

His gaze, as deep and blue as the ocean he loves, depthless and encompassing, warms her as he takes her in, almost as though he cannot believe her confession. "Of course…Emma. Anything you want, I will do. I promise, Darling."

Emma's throat nearly closes up at the glassiness of his eyes and the way his voice goes raspy with feeling. She knows by now that Killian Jones does not make a vow lightly, and her yearning surges even higher at his words. Biting her lip, she reaches to take his hand once more, tugs gently, and pats the space beside her on the mattress, before whispering, "Then come here…please…I need you to hold me. I…I th-thought you were gone…"

The hesitant look on her pirate's face is so worried and careful that it makes Emma want to giggle. If anyone who had known him as the fearsome Captain Hook could see him now, it would be hard to believe he was the same man. Yet, Emma can see the truth; his strength and daring have never faded, nor his dashing looks and unwavering air of command, but the drive and determination which had twisted into hatred and pursuit of revenge were once again fixed on heroism – and his commitment to her. "I don't want to unknowingly do you harm," he says anxiously, while refusing to meet her eyes.

"You won't," she breathes, pleading in her gaze when he finally meets it again, "unless you don't get in here." She gives him a playful wink as further reassurance and scoots over until she lies on her side, facing him with her back against the bedrail. She moves the IV so he won't pull it from her arm accidentally and then watches him and waits.

Heaving a sigh, Killian acquiesces, and though he wants to be sure not to hurt her, she knows he is craving the closeness as well. After shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it on the nearby chair and removing his shoes, he finally clambers gingerly up onto the bed next to her. Stretching full length on his side facing her, Killian leans in, nuzzling his nose gently over hers and kissing her lightly, still chaste and soft, but full of intense care. "Alright now, Swan?" he asks.

"Nearly," she responds a bit breathlessly. She reaches out to curl her fingers around the metal curve of his hook, taking this moment to make clear something he should already know. She is not repulsed by or fearful of his appendage – it is merely an extension of him. Pulling the blunted limb toward her body, Emma rests the arm on her hip, letting the hook wrap around her back. Then, she snuggles closer, fisting her hand in his shirt and burying her face in his warm chest.

They lie together like that for some time, comforted by the quiet closeness, heartbeats fitting to one another's rhythm. Finally, she pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. Her words are fierce with passion when she speaks again. "I love you, Killian Jones. Don't you ever doubt that again."

He pulls her back, fervently ghosting his response with his lips at her temple. "You must know I feel the same, Emma. My love for you will never change – as long as either of us live."

The kiss that follows soothes both their fraught, churning hearts and finally brings the peace that both of them seek. Emma's hand finds the short hair at the nape of Killian's neck and begins to stroke through the dark strands. Killian's fear and sleepless vigil catch up to him in her embrace, and he soon drifts off to sleep. It isn't long before his warm, solid presence curled around her protectively does the same thing for Emma and she follows him into slumber.

Anyone else in Storybrooke General that night who peeks into Emma Swan's room cannot help but be touched by the sight of the lost princess- savior and her pirate prince finally at home…with each other. Right there for all to see is a vision of two healing souls finally granted a miracle.

Tagging a few who might enjoy (or have never seen this oldie!) : @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @statustemporary @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @zaharadessert @lfh1226-linda @wefoundloveunderthelight @mie779 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @bdevereaux @justanother-unluckysoul @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @ilovemesomekillianjones @thislassishooked @grimmswan

[jessmalia]

heartless | 15. olive branch

pairing: henry mills x oc a/n: i made this one gayer than it was originally you’re welcome. seriously, though, killian deserved to flirt with men. he’s a slutty pirate for christ’s sake you don’t get more bisexual and that! warnings: some lewd jokes, violence. wordcount: 2488

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After she had stormed off the night before, Max's inbox was filled to the brim with emails from Henry apologizing a million times over for having forgotten to keep her in the loop. She had written back immediately to tell him that apologizing wasn't necessary — it wasn't even him she was mad at, and he had always told her everything before; he was allowed one mistake. It hadn't done much to persuade Henry, though, insisting that he should've noticed that Max was feeling left out by his family, and also apologizing for being dragged along to the trip to find Baelfire, so they'd spend even more time apart.

  After Max had told him how much his apologies and worries meant to her, he calmed down a bit.

  She was happy for him that he'd gotten his family back — she really was — but she couldn't deny that all these new people in Henry's life meant that there was less space for her, and she missed how it used to be.

  "Max?"

  The voice was Mary Margaret's. It carried from the other side of her locked door as she knocked. Max didn't answer, just continued staring upwards from where she had laid on her bed all day.

  "Max, I know you're in there, and I know you're mad, and I get it. I came here to apologize."

  She wasn't swayed.

  "I'm sorry we left you out. We were neglectful and it won't happen again. I know how important you are to Henry, and I want you to feel like you're a part of this family, too. You're a good kid, Max. You know I've always thought that."

  Max turned her head to look sideways at the door.

  "David and I are going out to look for Cora and we want you to come with us. We need you, actually. We figured Hook is our best lead and you might be the only one he's willing to talk to."

  Slowly, Max rose from her bed. She walked towards the door and unlocked and opened it, an unsure smile on her face.

  "I'll help."

–––

While Mary Margaret thought it was best to bring Max along since she was friends with Killian and he would be more likely to listen to her, her husband didn't seem to agree. He simply would not stop arguing with and yelling at Killian any chance he got. Max recognized the couples' olive branch, and she really wanted to make up with them, too. She was best friends with Henry and being on bad terms with his family was simply inconvenient. David's behavior irritated her to no end, though. It didn't even make sense. This was the first time they'd met. What grievances could he possibly have with him?

  "You didn't even ask me about my recovery," said Killian as he escorted them through the docks. Max rolled her eyes. She had seen him suffer way worse injuries than this (often unnecessary ones caused by his own recklessness), and every time someone had expressed concern he got offended, saying it implied that he couldn't "handle" it.

  Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, too, but for different reasons. "How are you feeling, Hook?"

  "Come closer and feel for yourself."

  That comment immediately got him punched right in his wound by David. God, he was such an only child.

  An outsider might have thought that Killian was stupid for not seeing that coming, but they would be wrong — he knew that David would react that way. What made him stupid was that he'd done it intentionally.

  "You wanna lose the other hand?!" barked the prince. "Where's the ship?!"

  Max stepped in between them. "Woah, calm down there, Prince Charming. You going all Hulk isn't gonna help anyone. And do you really let yourself get antagonized that easily? Elementary School must've been hell for you." She turned around to face Killian, who kept his eyes on David. He was really reveling in getting under his skin while keeping Max on his side. She knew this behaviour was only a coping mechanism — a way to make him feel like he still had the upper hand. Her tone was a sharp contrast to David's question when she said, "Archie told us that the Jolly Roger was sealed somehow. Could you please show it to us?"

  As soon as she'd started talking, Killian had made eye contact with her, and he was now sporting a, still kind of smug, but definite familial smile on his face. Max knew it well, as it was reserved only for her. "Aye, that it is. And I will. But only because you're asking. And you deserve to come back home." He glanced up at David again, cementing to him that Max's place was with him, before turning around. "Follow me. I don't know what you expect to find. Cora won't be there."

  "Well, maybe she left something behind that will tell us where she is," David said, still infuriated. Max kept herself standing in between them so he couldn't punch him again.

  "No funny business," said Leroy from the back. "I'm watching you, pirate." The way he spit out the last word as if it were a curse made it hard for Max to stop herself from punching him.

  Killian smirked at the threat. "Yes, dwarf, that should deter me from any malfeasance."

  A matching smirk appeared on Max's face. "I don't think he understood what that meant," she said, and they exchanged chuckles.

  "Ah, here it is," said Killian, stopping in front of nothing. Before anyone could call him out on it, he walked onto the invisible ramp and was quickly swallowed up by the ship's cloaking spell.

  Max grinned, sprinting on after him, the others hot on her tail. While the power games Killian insisted on playing with David could certainly be annoying, she couldn't say that anything he'd said had been wrong. Boarding the Jolly Roger again certainly felt as if she'd just come back home. "Oh, she's as beautiful as ever!" she exclaimed, spinning around in circles so she could take in her every last detail. Then she walked over to the mainmast, gently stroking it like you would a horse. "Hi, girl."

  "Feels good to be back, aye?" Killian asked. Max's joy had infected him — he was grinning just as big. For that moment it was like the others weren't even there.

  She nodded. "Oh, more than you can imagine."

  "You sailed this ship from our land..." Leroy spoke up, reminding them of their presence. "Could you sail it back?"

  "My ship? She's a marvel."

  "Understatement of the century," said Max, joining Killian at his side, who nodded.

  "She's made from enchanted wood," Killian continued, walking up the stairs to the quarterdeck as he did so. It took him a while, his injuries making the task significantly more difficult, and Max eyed him the whole time to make sure he didn't fall. "We've weathered many a storm together, seen many strange glittering shores." They'd made it up, the rest of the group having followed as well, and as soon as Killian was out of the imitate danger of tripping and breaking his neck, Max's eyes left him and narrowed on large box. It was about chest high and was covered by a brown sheet. It was the only thing on the entire ship that was foreign to her. "But, to travel between lands, she must go through a portal."

  "Yeah," David said, patience running thin, "what do you know about Cora's plans?"

  "Cora's not the most communicative of lasses. But I will tell you this. Whatever malice she has in mind, her weapon of choice is in here," Killian said, patting the box Max was eyeing. Together, David and Leroy removed the sheet, revealing a wooden cage with a sleeping man inside it, wearing giants' robes.

  "Who's that?" asked Mary Margaret.

  Killian explained that it was the last remaining giant that he and Emma had faced off back in the Enchanted Forest, and that Cora had shrunk him using magic. "Whatever she intends to do with him, it's important."

  "Oh, I think you know exactly what she intends," said David, getting up in Killian's personal space, practically oozing testosterone. Max rolled her eyes so hard that, if she'd been in class, Mary Margaret surely would've told her off about getting her eyes stuck like that one day. "You're holding out!"

  "Well, either have your lovely wife torture it out of me, which I promise will be fun for both of–"

  David grabbed Killian by the throat and pinned him to the mast behind him. "Why don't you and I have some fun?"

  "Sorry, but you're not really my type."

  "Oh, come on, boys, you're both pretty. There's no need to start squabbling. Or flirting," said Max, stepping in between them again so David was forced to let go.

  Killian slowly rubbed at his neck, glaring at David. "I don't know what she's planning. Why don't you wake the bloody giant and ask him yourself?" He held out a key towards Mary Margaret, and she put her bow down and took it from him, unlocking the cage. Gently, she stroked the giant's shoulder, and he immediately jerked awake.

  "It's alright. You're safe now," she said, using that insanely soothing tone of hers no one else seemed capable of. "What's your name?" she asked as she helped him step out.

  "Anton," the giant answered, looking around him. "Where's that witch?"

  "She's gone, don't worry."

  Anton examined Mary Margaret seeming confused. Then he looked down at himself, eyes widening. "What did she do?" he wailed. "She made me small." Max couldn't help the stab of pain in her chest at the clear heartbreak in his voice.

  David seemed to have a similar reaction to Max, his face softening as he said, "Come on. Let's get you out of here," grabbing the giant's shoulder from behind.

  Anton turned around, and as soon as his eyes landed on David, they filled with rage. "You."

  David frowned. "Me?"

  "YOU!" he screamed, punching David so hard he flung into the air, making a couple spins before he landed on the main dock. Leroy ran after Anton, screaming. But he got his ass handed to him, too. The giant kicked the gun out of David's hand, and wasn't stopped until Mary Margaret shot a warning shot with her bow, missing him by just inches.

  Anton looked at the arrow, then back at them. "You may have me outnumbered, but this isn't over. You think I forgot what you did? I didn't! You'll pay for your evil! I PROMISE! YOU'LL PAY!"

–––

Anton had run off after proclaiming his threat, and now they couldn't find him anywhere. It really was too bad Cora had turned him travel-sized — if he'd been giant, he would've been much easier to spot. Killian had disappeared, too. Either he was tired of being assaulted by David, or he had met up with Cora to help her with her schemes. Max prayed to God it was the former.

  This meant Max was now alone with the Charmings and Leroy (who she never really liked), sitting in Granny's diner and discussing the day's events. Or more like listening in on the adults while they discussed it. Max wasn't saying much. Just resting her arms and chin against the table, thinking about how much she missed Henry.

  "David..." Mary Margaret started, "did that giant say he'll 'make you pay'? For what?"

  David looked as clueless as ever. "I have no idea. I've never seen that guy before."

  "Well, he sure knows you," muttered Leroy.

  Max frowned. "Didn't you have an evil twin brother or something?"

  Realization dawned on him then. "Yes... he must think I'm James! It's the only thing that makes sense."

  "How is that not the first thing you thought of? This can't be the first time this has happened."

–––

Max should've known to be careful what she wished for, because now the giant had somehow turned giant again, and while he may have been way easier to spot now, he had also started throwing cars around. She was lucky their plan was to convince Anton that David was not the person who'd done him wrong to get him to stop, and not to fight the guy. She'd never fought a giant before and she doubted her dagger would be very effective. Best she could do was give him a Spanish splinter.

  David and Mary Margaret had instructed the panicked townsfolk to run to the town hall, and when the streets were cleared, David ran up to him, waving his arms around. "WAIT!"

  Anton turned around, his face twisting in rage when he spotted David.

  "YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS!"

  "Yeah! I do! You destroyed everything in my life! Now you're gonna know what that feels like!"

  "THE MAN WHO HURT YOU, THAT WASN'T ME!" David was doing a surprisingly good job of sounding reassuring while simultaneously yelling his lungs out so that the giant could hear him. "THAT WAS MY TWIN BROTHER, JAMES! WE WERE SEPARATED AT BIRTH! HE WAS RAISED BY A– A RUTHLESS KING!"

  Anton hesitated. "You're not James?"

  "NO!"

  "Then where is he?"

  "HE PAID THE ULTIMATE PRICE FOR HIS ARROGANCE! HE'S DEAD! THERE IS NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO TO HIM!"

  "WE'RE ON YOUR SIDE ANTON!" Yelled Mary Margaret as she ran up to her husband's side, Max and Leroy following her. "WE'RE GOOD! WE'RE HERE BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU KNOW OUR DAUGHTER, EMMA — YOU HAVE HER THE MAGIC COMPASS!"

  "Emma? Let me talk to her. If she says you're okay, then I'll stop."

  Mary Margaret exchanged worried glances with the rest of the group. "...SHE'S KIND OF OUT OF TOWN!"

  "Really?" he asked, obviously not believing them. Max couldn't really blame him. "I have an evil twin brother" and "she's out of town" sounded like the two worst excuses of all time.

  "BUT WHEN SHE GETS BACK I KNOW SHE'LL REALLY WANNA TALK TO YOU!"

  "How convenient!"

  Max tilted her head. "ACTUALLY IT'S KIND OF INCONVENIENT! 'CAUSE NOW IT LOOKS LIKE WE'RE LYING TO YOU! WHICH WE'RE NOT, BY THE WAY!" she shouted, but Anton didn't act like he'd heard.

  "Everyone I'm looking for isn't around! All you humans do is lie, and cheat, and kill, and I'm sick of it!" At once he booked it towards them.

  Max and the others ran as fast as they could, keeping their distance from Anton. Though, Leroy decided that this was the best time in the world to start an argument over David's name. When that was over, David got the even brighter idea of self sacrifice, turning around and facing the giant once more.

  "ANTON!"

  He stopped.

  "HOW ABOUT WE MAKE A DEAL?"

  "I don't make deals with humans!"

  "HEAR ME OUT! I'LL SURRENDER MYSELF TO YOU, IF YOU SPARE THE LIVES OF EVERYONE IN STORYBROOKE!"

  "David, you can't do this!" Mary Margaret ran up to him.

  "If I don't, the whole town will suffer. I can't allow that," he said, before turning back to Anton. Max suddenly felt horrible for how mad she'd been at them. Because here David was, willing to sacrifice himself for the town, and Mary Margaret definitely would've done the same thing in his place. Their indiscretions really were nothing compared to their good deeds. "WELL, WHAT DO YOU SAY?"

  "Deal."

  He ran towards David, jumping up, and switched to one foot so that he'd squash him to bits. But Mary Margaret was faster. She jumped onto David and pulled him out of the way just in time. The sheer force of Anton's jump made him sink down waist-deep into the ground. He looked around, confused for a bit, before magic smoke appeared around him, and when it faded, he was gone.

  They ran to the edge of the sinkhole to look for him. He had turned tiny again and was holding on for his life onto one of the underground pipes.

  It took some time, but with the help of David's truck, some very sturdy rope, and at least a dozen other townies, they succeeded in pulling him up.

–––

heartless taglist: @clarasamelia​ @anonymousewrites​

[lilacmoon83]

Operation Castle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 8: Exposed, Pt 2

Idly, Emma watched the spar between her father and Hook in one of the training rooms in Castle. She remembered last night and finally let her walls down for her parents. It felt good and had made them all happy, including Henry. He had gone to school with a beaming smile. They finally felt like a family and were starting to pick up where they had started to get to before the trigger. She was still keeping a watchful eye on Hook though. He claimed he had changed and she was inclined to believe him for now, mostly because they all now had a common enemy.

"You're not bad for a royal," Hook said, as he parried David's blade.

"Not a real royal. Born a shepherd, taught by a friend, and then became a Knight. I'm only a Prince by marriage," David corrected, as he parried again and sidestepped Killian's footwork.

"Plus…you have been doing this a lot longer. I mean…a lot longer," the prince said. Killian looked at him in surprise.

"Oh…old jokes. Really?" he asked. David smirked, as they exchanged several strikes.

"You wanted to open that door about origins," he countered. Killian rolled his eyes.

"Fair enough…but you know, I haven't always been a pirate. I was once a military man," he boasted.

"You?" Emma asked in surprise from the sidelines. He smirked.

"Aye love…it's a long, sordid story, but my brother and I sailed the seas retrieving whatever our greedy King wanted," he replied.

"Which King?" David asked, as he parried another strike.

"His name was George, but he was well before your time," Killian replied.

"Probably a great, great Grandfather to the asshole that raised my brother," David said.

"Entirely plausible," Killian agreed.

"So…why did you leave the military to become a pirate?" Emma asked.

"Ah…well, our exploits for the King ended up getting my brother killed. He was our leader. I rebelled and the crew with me. We turned against the King and became pirates in revenge against the crown," he explained.

"Didn't know you had a brother," Emma mentioned.

"Aye…losing him started me down a dark path," Killian said.

"There's a lot that's not in the book," Emma mentioned.

"It seems that the book only covers certain parts of Misthaven's history," David said.

"Misthaven?" Emma asked.

"It's what a lot of the other Kingdoms called the Enchanted Forest," he clarified.

"There are more Kingdoms than what's in the book?" she asked, though she supposed that made sense. She just had never thought about it.

"Sure…I have a couple friends that hail from Arendelle. It's even further north than the Kingdom that Snow's mother came from. Then there was the Maritime Kingdom, Camelot, Nottingham, Briar Forest, the Southern Isles, Prydain, even Atlantica," David said.

"Wait…like the little Mermaid?" Emma asked. He smirked.

"Your mother and Ariel were actually good friends," he said.

"Where is that story?" Emma asked, as her interest was piqued.

"I'm sure she would be happy to tell you all about it," David replied.

"Don't forget Neverland, though I've bloody tried," Killian said.

"So Peter Pan…you met him?" Emma asked.

"Aye…that bloody little demon makes the Crocodile look tame," he replied.

"Mind your tongue, pirate," Rumple warned from the sidelines.

"Hold on…I thought Pan was the good guy," Emma said. Both Killian and Rumple looked at her like she had three heads.

"Who the bloody hell told you that?" Killian asked.

"Disney?" she offered, which received eye rolls.

"Sorry lass…he is evil incarnate, I assure you," Killian replied.

"Thankfully, I never had to meet him, but the stories of him stealing children by luring them from their beds with his pipe were well known legends," David said. Emma was reeling from information overload at that point, but she found herself craving it all now.

"So…do you think there are more books?" she asked curiously. David stopped for a minute.

"I've never thought about it…but maybe. We don't even know where this one came from," David said, as he looked at Gold.

"Don't look at me. Not even I know where the book came from," he replied.

"Did Regina understand anything about the curse when she cast it?" Emma asked.

"Excuse me…I did," Regina interjected, as she came down into Castle from the bar above. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"Sure about that?" the blonde asked.

"I was told it would give me my happy ending and that it would take away that of my enemies," Regina replied.

"Yeah…I'm seeing why they gave you the evil title," Emma commented. Regina's nostrils flared and she marched up to the blonde.

"You don't know anything about what my life was like!" she said, pointing her finger at her, but Emma glared right back.

"I know enough. Your life sucked so you made sure everyone else's lives sucked too," she countered.

"You have no idea what I went through!" she hissed.

"And you have no idea what I went through either!" Emma shouted back.

"Enough!" Casey interjected, as he looked at them.

"This is training…not a time to air your grievances," he snapped. Before he could go on, David's phone rang and he smiled, as he answered it.

"Hey…" he said.

"David…" Snow said and he could instantly detect that something was wrong.

"Snow…what's wrong?" he asked.

"The students and staff seem to recognize me from Greg and Tamara's fun little broadcasts. I never even made it to my classroom this morning. The teachers cornered me in the teacher's lounge, demanding answers," she replied, as he had her on speaker.

"The Principal is one of ours…he should be at least providing cover for you," Alivia said.

"Well he's not!" Snow snapped.

"He no longer seems like he's one of yours…he's in here too. They said they can't let a vigilante teach students and they've called the NYPD," she said, obviously starting to panic.

"I'm on my way," David said, as he and Emma were already running for the exit, followed quickly by Killian and the others.

~*~

As Snow arrived that morning at work, she instantly knew something was definitely off. She got stares from students and teachers alike, as she made her way through the hallways and to the teacher's lounge. A bad feeling settled in her gut even further, as she walked in and found several teachers and the principal waiting on her there.

"What's going on?" she asked her colleagues.

"You tell us…this went viral this morning," one of them answered snidely. It was the old, crusty English teacher that taught across from her classroom. Ms. Parsons had never liked her and Snow had never given her a reason not to. But she was one of those people that seemed to despise other women, especially young, successful and happily married ones. Snow watched the video of them luring one of the Banshee's into a trash can fire, with very clear video of their faces.

"That was quite a spectacle, but who are these mysterious people?" Tamara asked, as the camera panned to her.

"They appear as Saviors here to rescue the city from some sort of paranormal activity. But are they really? Or are they perpetuating these hoaxes to make a name for themselves as some kind of heroes?" Greg asked.

"What exactly are you involved in, Mrs. Nolan?" another teacher asked.

"What I do outside school is really none of your business," Snow replied, without missing a beat.

"The students are very distracted by these strange occurrences and we think having you trying to teach would be too disruptive," the Principal stated.

"Well…then I guess this little display is your way of asking me to leave. Guess I'll send for my things later," she said, but the door was then blocked by two of the gym teachers.

"Sorry…we can't let you leave. The reporters on the broadcast said that the people involved with this are of interest to the Police. They'll be here soon," the Principal replied. Yesterday, the man had supposedly been read in on her status as an NSA asset and now he had a completely different attitude. She immediately pulled out her phone and dialed her husband.

David slammed the car door, as they arrived at the elementary school.

"You can't just go barreling in there!" Alivia warned.

"I thought you said she'd be safe to continue teaching!" David snapped.

"We were wrong," Casey said.

"Obviously…" Emma commented.

"You said that the Principal was aware of her status as an asset," Killian recalled.

"He is…something's definitely wrong," Casey said, as they saw NYPD cars pulling up to the school.

"I'll handle this…" Casey said, as he marched toward the entrance, with David and Emma following him.

"Excuse me Sir…we have a situation inside and cannot allow you to enter," one of the uniform cops said. Casey flashed his badge.

"And my authority supersedes the NYPD. Agent Casey, NSA and these are my colleagues, Agent Nolan and Agent Swan," Casey said sternly, as they easily bypassed the uniformed offers and they entered the building. Students milled about in the hallways and no one went to class as the bell rang, for they had realized one of the teachers they had seen on the news was cornered in the teacher's lounge.

The door swung open and Snow prepared to make some kind of drastic move to avoid being arrested by the NYPD, but she was incredibly relieved to see her husband and daughter there with Agent Casey. She rushed to him and he hugged her tightly.

"We were told she was going to be brought in by the NYPD," the Principal said.

"You were told wrong," Casey said, as he approached, with his menacing gaze.

"You were on board and the school was compensated to be discreet about Mrs. Nolan's status as an NSA asset," he said. The Principal smirked.

"Guess I got a better offer," he replied. In turn, Casey grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him off the floor, causing the other teachers to gasp.

"Who are you working for?" Casey demanded to know.

"Sorry…I'm more afraid of them than I am of you," he choked out, as Casey let him down and then cuffed him.

"We'll see about that," he growled, as he led him out of the school. Once they were outside, David stopped for a moment and cupped her face in his hands.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded and breathed another sigh of relief, as he hugged her briefly and then swept her away toward the car when he saw the press running toward them.

"Guess my teaching career is over," Snow said sadly.

"I'm sorry, my love," David replied, as he kissed her forehead.

"Me too, Mom," Emma offered. Snow smiled at her and squeezed her hand, as they returned to Castle to deal with this latest fallout.

~*~

Neal hopped off the bus in Augusta and went into the bus station and up to the window. Thankfully, when he fell through the portal, he still had his wallet on him and enough cash to get by for a day or so.

"Hi…I need a ticket for the next bus to Manhattan," he requested. The attendant printed a ticket for him and he paid, before going and sitting down on a bench to wait. He saw on the ticket that he had two hours and then went up to the attendant again.

"Is there a library nearby?" he asked.

"Yeah…it's about two blocks east," she said. He smiled and thanked her, before walking out and heading there. If he knew one thing about most libraries, he would be able to read copies of large newspapers and magazines from years past. He entered and approached the librarian at the desk.

"Hi…I'm doing research for a paper and I'd like to find some major newspaper articles from Maine and New York from about three years ago," he said.

"We don't keep physical copies of anything that old anymore, but find a computer and you should be able to search our digitized collection of most publications," she replied. He smiled again and thanked her, before finding an unoccupied computer and sitting down.

"Okay…I did miss the Internet," he said, as he started his search. After about ten minutes, he found an article from a local newspaper, talking about a short lived, but mysterious seismic event. It was the very day that he had fallen through the portal. Experts had been baffled, for Maine was not known to have seismic activity. But there wasn't much else in the official records. He supposed that made sense with the government suits he saw yesterday. They had likely and quickly covered it up, because he knew whatever seismic event had taken place probably had a magical and supernatural element involved. He knew that there probably was unofficial chatter about that day in certain communities, but he didn't have time to do a dark web dive on it, so he decided that real answers would only come.

"Okay Emma…if you're still a bail bonds person, maybe you'll pop up on Google," he muttered to himself. He put in a search for bail bondsman, plus New York, plus Emma Swan. He smiled, as the search results returned instantly with an answer.

"Express Bail Bonds," he said and he scribbled down the address of the place that Emma seemed to be working now. It was a great starting place. He put the piece of paper in his pocket and left for the bus station. New York and his family awaited him.

~*~

When they arrived back at Castle, they gathered at the situation table and David had a hard stare for the General when he appeared on screen.

"It appears that the game has changed quite drastically and we underestimated what we believe is a rogue agent," Shaw said.

"Gee…ya think?" Emma quipped sarcastically.

"Greg and Tamara are extremely dangerous. We should arrest them next time they're doing one of their fear-mongering broadcasts," David said.

"Agreed," Rumple said.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Shaw said.

"Why the hell not?" Hook asked sharply.

"Those two are responsible for my son's death," Rumple growled and Belle put a hand on his shoulder.

"We have reason to believe that this rogue agent has his other agents running this network. If the NSA goes and arrests Journalists, it will not play well with the public at all and put us all under even more scrutiny. We'll never smoke out the person at the top of this if we take that path," Shaw reasoned.

"The General is right. Most of the public believes whatever their idiot boxes tell them to. They'll see it as us trying to undermine the freedom of the press," Alivia offered.

"Politics suck," Casey added, as it was clear he agreed with David and Rumple.

"So what now? I can't go back to my teaching job and Regina won't be able to even run the bar upstairs," Snow said.

"Yes, we have agents that will take over the daily operations of the bar," he said.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Regina asked.

"For now, you should all go home and lay low until there is another anomaly. Your identities haven't been revealed yet and we'll have agents posted nearby each residence," Shaw replied. They got up from the table and started to make their way out.

"So much for a meeting at Ruby's," Emma said.

"We'll just have to meet at our house and hope it's not bugged," David replied, as they agreed and headed there.

~*~

Tamara smirked, as she watched the spectacle outside the school. They hadn't revealed the identities of Storybrooke's residents yet, but their identities would soon be outed.

They just needed the perfect situation to truly expose them.

"That seems like a high concentration of radiation in Midtown Manhattan," Greg mentioned to his boss, as they looked at the map of New York City.

"Yes…if I had to guess, I am willing to bet the next anomaly may appear in this area and very soon…maybe as soon as tomorrow," Aza said.

"We'll be ready. Midtown Manhattan is the perfect place to truly expose them. Time Square might as well be broadcasting to the entire world," Tamara replied.

"Be ready…this could be big," Aza said.

~*~

Shaw sat at his desk and Alivia entered his office, having been summoned from Castle.

"Thank you for coming, Agent Becker," he said.

"Of course, Sir…I assume we are putting together a task force to track this rogue agent?" she asked.

"Yes…but I believe we already know who he is and drawing him out won't be easy," Shaw said.

"Who is he?" Alivia asked.

"That's not important for now. What is important is finding out the secret to these objects," Shaw said, as he pulled a painting out and it swung out, revealing a safe in the wall. Shaw opened it and she peered inside.

"What exactly are these objects?" she asked.

"Just a few artifacts we recovered at the site of the explosion three years ago. It's imperative we find out what they do and if they hold any power," Shaw replied.

"Why not just ask our assets?" she questioned.

"They must not know we have anything from their town. I suspect they're already searching for a way out and we're not done with them. If they can harness magic…then we

want to be the ones in control of the ones with such power," he said.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"I believe Mr. Gold suspects that we have the story book that details all their history, but it was never recovered," Shaw replied.

"Then how do we know it survived and how do we know so much about them without it?" Alivia questioned. She had heard them talk about Henry's book and always assumed the NSA had it.

"We have a source from years ago. We suspected the existence of the town for almost thirty years, but could never find it or gain access. That source has been persuaded finally to loosen their tongue," he said, pausing for a moment.

"She told us about a certain collection of books at the largest library in the city and I want you to investigate," he said, as he handed her a piece of paper with the exact

location.

"I'll go right away," Alivia said, as she left. Shaw stared at the objects in his safe and then closed it. He hoped to soon know what power they held.

[accio-ambition]

I remember having a really tough time trying to connect this chapter to the sentiment I wanted to give off, but it came out great. Some of my favorite (and oldest) parts of writing are in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. As always, thanks to @sotheylived, @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, and the crew over at @captainswanbigbang, who I will never be able to thank enough. But, most importantly, thanks to YOU. My mother would be appalled: you guys are all leaving wonderful comments and kudos and reblogging and whatever else and it's taken me eight chapters to thank you. My deepest apologies, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset

Chapter Eight

It’s way past her bedtime, especially knowing that Jones told her the Roger is leaving tomorrow at 5 a.m., which means she needs to be up by no later than four. But Emma’s let the laundry sit for too long as it is and now that it’s on her mind, she’s not going to sleep until it’s at least folded.

 As she’s setting the last of Henry’s shirts on top of the dryer, all of the clean clothes ready to be put away, she hears hurried footsteps above her. Henry has been asleep for hours, so that either means that someone’s broken in - doubtful, but one can never be too sure - or something’s wrong with Henry.

 Trying her best not to panic, Emma jogs upstairs to find the light beneath the bathroom door illuminated. She knocks cautiously. “Henry?” she murmurs. “Are you okay in there?”

 Though there’s no verbal response, the knob does turn and click open a crack. Emma pushes in, unsure of what she’ll find.

 Settling back into his position curled against the toilet, far too pale for her 10-year-old son in the middle of summer, Henry moans. Sweat beads on his brow and his eyes look hazy.

 Without a second thought, Emma kneels down beside him, brushing matted hair away from his face. He’s burning up. Emma reaches beneath the sink and wets a washcloth, patting it to the cheek that doesn’t rest against the toilet seat.

 “Mom,” Henry mumbles. “I don’t feel good.”

 “I figured, kid.” She busies herself with running the cloth over his hair and down his arms. “Do you still feel like you’re going to throw up?”

 Henry nods weakly before alarm widens his eyes. The simple movement must set off something, and he’s leaning over and into the toilet in the next blink. All Emma can do is run her hand up and down his back and wipe away the tears that follow in an effort to calm him down.

 “It’s okay, kid, it’s gonna be alright.”

 Sniffing, Henry swipes at his mouth. “I hate being sick,” he grumbles.

 Emma chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I know.” She shifts her body so she can hold him a bit easier, comb her fingers through his hair.

 Luckily for them both, Henry doesn’t get sick that often, but when he does, it’s an ordeal. One time, when he was about six, Henry contracted pneumonia and it nearly killed her. She had to take two weeks off to take care of him, and while she loved every minute she spent with her son and not with the random annoying crew she was with that month, the bills did not.

 Eventually, Emma manages to maneuver Henry back into his room, a bucket at his bedside and a cup of ice on his table. He sleeps in fits and starts, his fever not yet broken.

 She knows he’ll be okay - the doctors tell her he’s healthy at every check up - but it still worries her. Nobody was around when she was his age or younger to comfort her, offer her advice to settle her stomach, or spend the night making sure her fever wasn’t getting any worse. The only person she had as company was herself.

 So Emma spends the night in his bed, Henry sinking into her side comfortably when he does manage to sleep. If she gets more than an hour of sleep tonight, she’ll consider it a win.

 When her alarm goes off at four, Emma gets up silently and prepares for the day like a zombie. She almost takes her phone into the shower, the heat of the water shocking her system with one foot in and her fingers tapping away at a text asking Ruby to come over and watch Henry. She responds quickly, already up to help Granny make breakfast.

 I’ll have to help Granny in a min. H might have to hang here during my shift.

 That’s fine  , Emma replies.  As long as he’s quarantined. Don’t think Granny wants to infect her customers.

 By the time she somehow stumbles down to the dock, Emma’s awake enough to pass as slightly hungover. Thank god the water is calm or else today would’ve been a total waste in filming.

 (She feels like a total waste. How she managed to return to the harbor unscathed and without falling overboard is a miracle.)

 After a far-too-late night and an early morning of filming, Emma goes to Granny’s for a quick pick-me-up. The coffee there isn’t anything close to Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or whatever big name chain she relied on in the city, but there’s a hint of something more pleasureable in the old woman’s drink that makes Emma think it tastes better. It’s, like, love or something silly like that.

 “Hey there, sunshine,” Ruby greets her from behind the register.

 “You know what I like,” Emma says on a sigh.

 “I do indeed.” Requesting the required funds with an open hand, Ruby rings her up and shouts her order back to the kitchen. After they both hear Granny’s grumbled response, Ruby look back to Emma. “I’m assuming you’ll want to see your son as well.”

 “That would be appreciated.”

 With a crinkle of her nose, Ruby moves from behind the counter and heads through the door that connects to Granny’s inn. Emma knows that, on the days where Ruby’s in charge, Henry likes to spend his time in a bay window on the second floor of the bed and breakfast. It’s secluded, as she suggested, and it looks right over the harbor, something that she’s sure he finds comforting.

 (Her son’s watching over her, or that’s what he’d try to tell her.)

 Emma busies herself by looking over today’s specials - meatloaf and lasagna, hopefully not on the same plate - when the diner door opens and the bell above it rings merrily.

 “Of all the gin joints.”

 She’d know that voice anywhere. It makes her roll her eyes abnormally hard, actually spinning her vision around. She’s spent enough time with him in close quarters today as it is.

 His voice must be boisterous enough to make it through the kitchen door to Granny, who yells back, “We don’t have gin here, boy.”

 Despite her best efforts, Emma chuckles along with Jones. “Yes, Granny, I’m aware, it’s merely a saying,  ”  he amends.

After stifling the rest of her laughter, Emma faces him and gives him the stink-eye. “You say that like there’s another place I could grab coffee at this hour of the day.”

“There is.” Of course there is, she thinks. And of course he’s not there while she’s here. Of course. “The Busy Bee isn’t too far from here.”

Emma sighs dramatically, turning her attention back to the wall behind the counter she leans on. “Well, then I know where I’m going for all my coffee runs now.”

 “Now, don’t be a spoilsport, Swan,” Jones tsks.   “  Look, if you want to be alone, I’ll let you be.”

Thankfully, Ruby returns at this point with her to-go cup in hand and a styrofoam box in the other. “Here’s your coffee to go and your waffles,” Ruby says.

 “I didn’t order waffles,” Emma corrects her.

“Henry did,” Ruby clarifies. “He’s just finishing up his chapter, so he’ll be down in a jiff.” She hands the coffee and container to Emma before twirling around and heading back to the kitchen.

Jones clicks his tongue behind her, causing Emma to roll her eyes again. “Ah, so it’s not just the coffee you’re here for,” he says. And then, sort of out of left field, he asks, “When will I get to meet the lad?”

 Her internal monologue says never, but her mouth forms the words, “Not before he’s healthy enough to go back to camp.” At his perturbed look, she explains, “He’s sick. He had a fever and was throwing up last night.”

 That seems to catch him off-guard. Jones’ eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Why did you come today?” he inquires.

“Because it’s my job?” It’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s the breadwinner - the only one - in her house, which she still has to pay off, along with groceries and bills and rollback deals from Henry’s birthday presents. Money doesn’t come from trees.

 He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he shakes his head. “We could’ve held out and gone tomorrow or promised not to do anything interesting today,” he tells her.

 “No, that goes against the whole concept of reality TV.”

Jones scoffs and rolls his eyes, making Emma’s brow raise. “Come now, Swan, you and I both know you guys are going to edit the shit out of whatever you film. We’ve already got a pool on who’s going to be the prick of the show. My money’s on Victor.”

 They’ve come to a lull in the conversation, Emma unsure of how to continue. He’s got a point: when all is said in done, not much reality goes into the reality show.

 (And Jefferson was leaning toward making Whale the douchebag. He just lent himself to it so well.)

 The moment comes to a close when Jones starts scrambling, his hands patting at all his pockets. He leans over the counter to grab one of the pens and pieces of paper by the register. Swiftly, he scribbles something across the paper and slips it into her hand.

Emma glances down at it, a line of numbers across the page. “What’s this?”

“The next time you need to be mother,” Jones says, pointing emphatically at the paper, “call me and we’ll figure out a plan of action for the day that works for both of us.” His expression softens to something Emma’s never seen before. “Your lad needs you, love. He was in your life before me and my crew came along and he’ll be in it long after we’ve parted ways. Never feel the need to put this job above your son.”

She can’t help the grin that crosses her lips at his words. “Thank you, Jones. Truly.” Folding the paper in half, Emma slips it into her pocket. She picks up her coffee and Henry’s waffles and takes a step toward the door. “And I’m just going to gloss over your move.”

 “Move? What move?” Jones asks, one brow cocking up sharply.

 “Using the opportunity to let me stay at home with my kid to give me your number.” Emma grins wider, her teeth peeking out to bite at her bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll forget it.”

Mimicking her smile, she catches Jones’ tongue skim across his teeth. “Trust me, Swan. I don’t want you to.”

 She rolls her eyes as her back runs into the diner door. “Goodbye, Jones.”

 Just as she knew he would, Henry’s patiently waiting for her on the sidewalk outside the inn. He’s leaning against the fence, still entranced by whatever book he’s reading this time.

 (She really is lucky that her son has taken to books and not technology when boredom hits. Sure, he loves his video games, but that’s something she can control. If Henry had a smartphone, Emma isn’t sure she would ever talk to him in person again.)

 As she approaches, Henry shuts his book and smiles up at her. Silently, she hands her son his box of food. He opens it to make sure it’s what he wants, then takes a delighted whiff.

 “Sorry, I got caught up talking to someone,” she explains.

 “Who were you talking to?” Henry asks, turning toward home.

 “A guy from work,” Emma says. At his raised brow, she rolls her eyes and wets her lips. “It’s the captain of the ship I work on.”

 “Really?” His voice goes up an octave, he’s so thrilled. “Can I meet him?”

 Emma shakes her head and ruffles his hair. “Maybe.”

 “I’ll behave, I promise,” he pleads.

 She chuckles. “It’s not you I’m worried about misbehaving.” Taking a sip of her coffee, Emma thinks on the idea. “Besides, you kind of met him. We were on his brother’s boat on the Fourth of July.”

 “But I didn’t talk to him.” Of course he didn’t. Because she didn’t introduce her son to either of the Jones brothers and Henry knows better than to talk to strangers. “C’mon, Mom.”

 “We’ll see,” Emma sighs. And then, as mothers do when they tire of trying to explain adult dynamics to their children, she changes the subject. “How are you feeling? Better?”

 “Mom.” He holds up the takeaway box. “Waffles cure anything.”

 She laughs outright, and pulls Henry’s shoulders into her chest. “How could I be so silly?” She kisses the top of his head and pushes open the gate to their house.

[cosette141]

Begin Again (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 7

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Pairing: Captain Swan

Words: 6k (this chapter) | 40k (total, so far)

Summary: (s2 "Manhattan" divergence) No one breaks a deal with Rumplestiltskin, and Emma finds herself facing the wrath of the Dark One. What if Neal didn't come back for Emma in NYC, but instead, Hook showed up to kill Rumplestiltskin early? No one has ever saved Emma before, and Hook has never been able to save anyone at all. It's time for them both to tell a different story. Together. CS

Read this chapter (chp 7) on AO3

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Chapter 6: AO3

Chapter 7

"Good morning!"

Emma descended the last stair, seeing Mary Margaret looking at her from the kitchen, making what looked like a banquet. French toast, eggs, bacon and a light aroma of chocolate and cinnamon met her at once. David was securing his gun holster, dressed for sheriffing. He looked up, giving Emma a smile of his own.

Henry was already seated at the island, watching the food cook eagerly. He looked well-rested, and Emma felt relief that he at least was dealing with things well. She would never understand how her son could be so unbelievably brave.

"Sleep well?" asked Mary Margaret with a smile as bright as the daylight outside. Emma could already see a difference in both hers and David's faces and demeanors; the threat of Cora having eased seemed to lift a huge weight off their shoulders. They both seemed to have slept wonderfully.

Emma's honest answer to her mother's question was no, as she'd barely gotten more than an hour of straight sleep, none of it restful. Every slip into sleep was another vivid replay of Gold attacking her in the apartment, Neal leaving her again, or… or other people leaving her.

Seems her subconscious has yet to adopt the trust her conscious self had tentatively decided to.

The residual panic lingered, and Emma took a tired breath.

"I am not going anywhere."

"I will see you tomorrow."

The sudden urge to see him was overwhelming.

But Emma forced a smile, pulling out a chair and said, "Yeah, great."

Mary Margaret and David didn't sense the lie, and Mary Margaret smiled wider.

"How'd you sleep?" Emma asked Henry, ruffling his hair a little.

"Good," he said, and Emma smiled at the honesty in his answer.

"And before you offer to," said David, leaning against the counter with his coffee in hand, "you are forbidden from coming to work today. I've got it."

Emma felt a true smile touch her lips at the gesture. "Thanks."

"Though I'm expecting the crime rate to drop significantly," said David with a grin. "The two biggest problems in the city have been taken care of."

That certainly was true.

Mary Margaret turned off the stove, and filled a plate of food, placing it in front of Henry, who grabbed it with a "Thanks!" and immediately took it to the TV, where cartoons were already playing.

Emma smiled, seeing him happy.

A plate was placed in front of her, and Emma turned, realizing just how hungry she was. "What's with all this?" she asked, picking up a fork. "Cereal would have been fine."

After pouring Emma some hot cocoa, with cinnamon, and placing it by her plate, Mary Margaret smiled, just looking at her. "With you and Henry home safe and sound, and with the town crisis over with," said Mary Margaret, "it seemed like a nice breakfast was in order."

Emma took a sip of the hot chocolate and smiled at the familiar comfort it always brought. The food was amazing, though it could have been her hunger; Emma realized she hadn't eaten at all yesterday.

As Emma took another bite, Mary Margaret shot a quick look to David, who was pulling on his jacket, both him and Henry out of earshot, and she leaned over the counter. She lowered her voice, something curious jumped in her eyes. "So… Killian," she said, brow raising around the name.

Emma almost choked on her hot cocoa.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the hot beverage.

She felt herself tense, vulnerability rushing through her.

But at the thought of him, Emma felt a shy smile touch her lips involuntarily, and at it, Mary Margaret's grin grew.

But the thought of him also brought back the panic from the nightmares and her smile faded.

Emma put her fork down, suddenly no longer able to quell the desire, the need to see him. The need to make sure he hasn't left, that he hasn't taken the night to realize that she actually wasn't worth staying for—

Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

Hesitantly looking at Mary Margaret, she mumbled, "Would you be able to watch Henry today?"

Mary Margaret's grin only grew wider.

And Emma's cheeks only got hotter.

"Go," she said with that grin, and Emma was grateful she didn't press.

Emma smiled back, getting up and grabbing her own jacket.

Telling Henry and David she'd be back, though Henry barely looked up from the TV, Emma grabbed the door and opened it—

—and stumbled to a surprised stop.

Because Hook—Killian—was standing just beyond the door, and Emma caught an expression on his face that looked almost nervous, his fist raised as if he had just been about to knock.

"Hook," she breathed, her shock morphing into a smile.

"Swan," he said just as softly, matching her smile. "Good morning," he said with a little glint in his eye, something excited.

And Emma, for a moment, couldn't speak.

He came back.

He came back.

No one ever comes back.

Relief like none other was washing through her.

She couldn't help herself.

She grabbed him in a hug.

He made a little oof, catching her, and she felt the chuckle reverberate in his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and Emma felt herself sigh something in relief, his embrace chasing away the residual anxiety from the nightmares. "Morning," she whispered into his chest.

"Last night was the longest of my life, love," he whispered into her hair, and she could feel his smile.

That made two of them.

She couldn't quite process it.

He was still here.

A light clearing throat from behind them made them break apart, and Emma suddenly remembered Mary Margaret was still in the kitchen, in clear view of them. Not to mention David, whose tension wafted over like a storm cloud. More heat rushing to her cheeks, Emma bit her lip.

But Mary Margaret was clearly trying to keep most of her smile to herself, despite the clear torn expression on her husband's face, and she approached them, David a little stiffer. "Hook," said Mary Margaret in greeting.

"Milady," he said, dipping his head a little. Mary Margaret's brows raised at the respect and politeness, such a strong contrast from the way Killian used to speak to them.

"Hook," said David at her other side, his face attempting a smile, but it was more a grimace than anything. He was trying, and Emma would take it.

"Captain!"

All four of them turned at Henry's exclamation. He'd run from the TV still playing cartoons to them, looking at Killian with utter excitement. "You're really staying in Storybrooke now?!" he asked breathlessly, looking from Killian to Emma and back.

Killian smiled, such a fondness in his eyes, looking nothing but touched that the idea gave Henry so much joy. "Aye," he said, his eyes on Emma, making something flit in her chest.

"Awesome!" Henry grinned wider, his excitement making Killian's smile mirror his. "Can we go sailing again?" he asked eagerly. "Or—or can you teach me to swordfight? Maybe we can—"

"Slow down, kid," said Emma with a little laugh, seeing the slightly overwhelmed look on Killian's face. "I think we'll have plenty of time for all of that," she said softly, looking at Killian, who smiled at her. "It's been a long couple of days," she said quieter, her smile faltering a little with it. Killian was the only one who seemed to catch the emotion packed behind her words, and she saw his brows dip in concern.

"I thought I was going to teach Henry to swordfight," muttered David, looking at Mary Margaret, who whispered a, "Not now." Her phone suddenly went off on the kitchen island, and she walked away to pick up the call.

David stepped up, not-so-subtely puffing his chest and crossing his arms, staring firmly at Killian. "So, Hook," he said, lacking the glare he'd worn yesterday in Killian's presence, but looking like it was taking about everything in him not to. "You'll be sticking around town, then?"

Killian's eyes slowly shifted from Emma's to David's, and Emma watched the slightest hesitance in his eyes. But it wasn't because he was intimidated by David the Prince…

He was suddenly intimidated by David the father.

And the fact that he seemed to care now how David saw him made a warmth settle into Emma's chest, somewhere that used to only be cold and hollow.

"Aye," said Killian slowly. "I am."

"Well…" David drew out, looking from Emma to Killian, sighing something weary. But he sighed, dropping his crossed arms to slip them into his pockets instead, trading an intimidating posture for something more casual, and he said, "Welcome to Storybrooke, then."

Emma felt like she and Killian relaxed as one, and she tried to hide the smile at David's attempt at being friendly.

Mary Margaret approached them again, phone in hand, a furrow in her brow. "That was Leroy," she said to them. "Apparently Regina called for a town meeting at City Hall."

Henry's exuberance toward Killian fell from his face, something attentive and a different sort of eagerness trading places with it. "My mom?" he said hollowly.

"A good meeting?" asked Emma, her own brows kneading. Because she certainly couldn't take another crisis.

With a sigh, Mary Margaret shrugged. "I guess we're about to find out."

They all left the apartment, heading down the stairs, Emma and Killian behind her parents.

And Emma felt Killian's fingers slide in-between hers, and she smiled, the last of the panic from her dreams washing away like rain.

-.-.-.-.

Killian had not lied to Emma—last night had been long.

Sleep had been hard to come by; flashes of seeing Emma on the floor of that apartment, lying at the Crocodile's mercy blended into an age-old nightmare of being tied to his own mast in utter helplessness…

He hadn't been riddled with dreams like that since the first few years after Milah's death.

Needless to say, he needed to see Emma the moment dawn broke, to make sure his nightmares were just that; dreams.

And the fact that the moment she'd seen him, she looked just as excited, just as relieved, to see him as he was her…

It was something he bloody cherished.

City Hall was filled with nearly the whole town by the time Emma, Killian and Henry, David and Mary Margaret walked inside, standing at the back. As they entered, a few of the people noticed them—and noticed him.

At the sight of him, he saw several of them tense, some glare.

Killian felt himself tense.

The eyes lingered on Killian apprehensively, and Hook felt Emma tense a little as she noticed the reaction to him as well. For a moment, he braced himself for her to drop his hand, but instead, her fingers tightened around his, and she straightened a little, pulling him closer to her side.

And in that moment, Killian nearly forgot how to breathe.

She kept choosing him.

Over and over and over.

He looked at her then, the other people forgotten, seeing her already looking at him, such an easy smile at her lips. Something free and so unguarded. It wasn't the woman he'd met in the Enchanted Forest. But she hasn't changed; this washer.

Beneath her walls and her fear and her pain.

The pure innocence that lay underneath her armor was more beautiful than anything he's ever laid eyes on.

And he would protect it, her, for as long as he lived.

A cleared throat cut through the murmur of the crowd, belonging to Regina, who was standing at the front of the room, seeming uncomfortable for once. "Thank you all for… coming," she said, as if the words were a little forced. Silence fell, however, curiosity winning everyone over. "I'm sure by now you're all aware of what transpired between the Charmings and my… mother," she said a little awkwardly. "The return of my mother's heart…" Her voice seemed to catch a little, gracing her face with the hint of a pure smile. "She isn't the same woman you all feared." she added, softer.

At her words, a plume of smoke appeared at her side, revealing Cora beside her.

The reaction from the people was instant; flinches, gasps, and fear grasped the room in a grip that was palpable.

Killian felt Emma's fingers tighten around his reflexively, just as he did hers.

Cora winced at the reaction, looking genuinely upset, guilty by it.

Killian understood the feeling.

"It's okay," said Regina, looking just as unsettled by the reaction. "We're here to tell you all that… we don't want to instill fear anymore." A murmur of disbelief. Regina sighed, taking a breath as if to steady herself. "And… I'm here to do something I never thought I would do." She gave another sigh. "As of this moment," she said heavily, "I am abdicating the throne, both here in Storybrooke… and in the Enchanted Forest."

The sheer disbelief rushed through the crowd like a gust of wind, and Killian felt his brows shoot up with surprise, meeting Emma's identical shock.

"I would like to give this power back to its… rightful heir," she said, just as heavily, her eyes settling on Mary Margaret, whose face was whiter than her namesake. "Snow White." finished Regina.

Mary Margaret blinked in utter shock, matching nearly everyone else in the room, as well as David, standing frozen at her side.

"You—you what?" breathed Mary Margaret.

Regina approached her then, walking across the room, stopping in front of her, her eyes shifting to Henry, who was standing at Mary Margaret's other side, his jaw hanging open.

"I just want my family," said Regina softly, eyes finding Henry. "Henry, and my mother…" Looking at Mary Margaret, she said, "I thought… power could fill the void inside me. But… love did." And swallowing hard, shutting her eyes before opening them to say, "After talking with my mother, I… I understand that she put you in a… manipulated position. And… I don't want to be angry anymore. At anyone." The room was pin-silent. And with an even heavier breath, Regina said, "I… absolve you, Snow."

Mary Margaret was a statue.

Until Henry broke the spell on the room, and he grabbed Regina in a tight hug. "I knew there was good in you," he whispered, smiling, a tear falling down his cheek.

Regina let out a little gasp at his affection, a tear falling down her own cheek as she bent to hug him back, shutting her eyes. "Henry," she whispered. "You forgive me?"

"Of course I do," he said through his smile. "You're my mom."

Regina hugged him tighter, smiling even wider.

Regina pulled back, and looked toward Cora, who had hesitantly approached, watching them with tears in her own eyes.

Regina stood, hand on Henry's shoulder, swallowing emotions before she said, "Henry… this is my mother. Your… grandmother," she said with a smile. "Mother, this is… my son," she whispered. "This is Henry."

Cora approached Henry hesitantly, smiling something genuine. "Henry," she said gently.

Henry looked from Emma, Mary Margaret, and Regina, to Cora. Then he smiled and said, "Hi, Grandma."

A little gasp escaped Cora at the word, and before she could respond, Henry hugged her. She froze with surprise for a moment before slowly reciprocating, however tentatively.

Mary Margaret looked from Regina, Cora and Henry, to the rest of the room. People she was just seeming to realize were finally hers to lead.

Clearing her throat a little, she stood a little straighter. "Well," she said, exchanging a look with David and Emma, she said, "I'll gladly take my place as your Queen. And… mayor," she added, a little awkwardly.

Smiles erupted around the room, and Mary Margaret returned them with her own, and she and David walked to the front of the room.

"I've always been here for you all," said Mary Margaret, "but to do so unopposed…" Color touched her cheeks. "I'm honored." Exchanging a look with David, she said, "David and I will lead you all in this new era of peace, and of harmony," she said with a grin. "The realms have been freed of the Darkness, in every context of the word." she went on. "It's time for us all to start fresh."

"So it's really true?" came a voice from the crowd—one of the Dwarves. "Gold is really dead?"

Killian felt Emma flinch at the mention.

His fingers tightened around hers.

"He is," confirmed David. "And it's…" He hesitated, like his voice caught on the words, but he said anyway, "And it's thanks to… Hook."

Eyes suddenly turned to Killian, skepticism in many faces.

"Gold… tried to kill Emma," said David with difficulty, his own expression faltering, and Emma shifted uncomfortably at Killian's side. "Hook saved her, and in turn… all of us."

Killian felt a discomfort, an unfamiliarity, rise with the spotlight, but his own shock competed with it.

Because David, the man who had wanted to kill him only yesterday, was defending him, in front of the entire town.

Emma smiled at Killian, looking just as touched by her father's gesture.

"There's something else, too," said Mary Margaret. "We've kept it under wraps due to… previous events," she said awkwardly, "but our new friend Anton has been harvesting magic beans in Storybrooke." A few gasps echoed around the room. "The first two beans will be ready any day now. Those who want to return to the Enchanted Forest and rebuild your homes will be welcome to, and those who want to stay here are just as welcome."

Smiles and exclamations of joy erupted through the people, given hope for the first time in decades.

"The Curse is broken," said Mary Margaret, "and it's time for everyone to get their happy ending. It's all thanks to Emma, our Savior, and our princess," she said, turning her gaze to Emma, who suddenly looked uncomfortable with the attention. A little color touched her cheeks, and Killian felt her subtly shift a little closer to him.

"You did it!" exclaimed Henry with a wide grin toward Emma. "You brought back the happy endings!"

"Long live Queen Snow!" bellowed Leroy, standing and clapping.

The rest of the crowd rose with the same words, and Mary Margaret looked utterly over the moon, David just as happy at her side.

After the meeting, the town adjourned to Granny's, celebrating Mary Margaret and David and the prospect of returning home until the daylight began to fade. Regina and Cora left with Henry, who was going to stay the night with them and for the three of them to spend time together. Yet Regina had lingered before they left, gaze hesitantly on Emma's, as if an unspoken ask of permission.

One that Emma met with a true smile, that Regina genuinely returned.

Most of the night had Emma's parents mingling with the town, making plans, discussing their future in the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke, all the things they wanted to do. They didn't, however, seem to notice that Emma was not exactly all right.

Emma had remained at his side, fingers interlocked with his all day long. Several of the townsfolk approached her to thank her for her part in their newfound peace, something she didn't seem to know what to do with. She was quiet most of the afternoon, and every sudden noise near her—the clang of silverware or something of the sort—made her flinch a little, startling her. And Killian felt his chest twist, flashing back to when she'd been crumpled on the floor of that apartment at the demon's mercy, not even forty-eight hours ago.

Killian has had his fair share of traumatic events—his and Liam's abandonment, losing his hand and Milah—and he'd had his own trouble the weeks, and even months that followed them. It surprised him in a horribly sad way, just how little Emma's parents seemed to think of what she'd just been through.

So when Emma flinched at a sound for a third time, Killian leaned over her shoulder, saying softly, "May I take you somewhere?" He attempted a smile, but his concern for her couldn't take the slight crease out of his brows.

Emma looked at him, like she was torn from thoughts that Killian didn't have to guess were about, and she smiled, giving him a little nod.

And he returned her smile, gently pulling her with him, away from the crowd. They passed Mary Margaret and David on their way out, tearing their attention from their conversation with a few of the townsfolk. "Emma?" said Mary Margaret, like she'd forgotten she was here. "You're leaving?"

"Leaving… to go somewhere together?" said David in a tight voice. "Alone? Just the two of you?"

Mary Margaret slapped him in the chest with the back of her hand, just smiling at Emma who had cut David off with a "Byee," and left with Killian.

David looked at Mary Margaret with an expression that looked pained. "Alone?" he repeated to her.

"She's twenty-eight, David," muttered Mary Margaret half-heartedly.

"But with Hook?" His voice rose two octaves. At her look, he said, "I know, he saved her, twice, I know, but…" His face only grew more pained. "Did it have to be a pirate?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I was a bandit," she said dully. At his face— "What?"

-.-.-.

The sun was just beginning to set by the time Killian had led her to his destination. The entire walk there, Emma had only asked, "Where are we going?" once, just to get his response of, "You'll see," which made her smile something genuine.

It was the first time they were alone since last night and it wasn't lost on either of them. Their hands were still intertwined as they'd been all day, but they gravitated even closer to each other now, their arms brushing, and the same magnetism that had grown between them only seemed to intensify.

It was when they reached the docks that Emma said, "Your ship?" she asked.

"There's something I'd like you to see." he said. At her confusion, with a little wink to her, he said, "Trust me, Emma."

Those words had set her immediately on edge when he'd said them on the Beanstalk, and now made her smile, and seem to do just that.

His ship itself still wasn't visible, thanks to Cora's cloaking spell, but Killian smoothly found his gangplank and led her in behind him. The sun was setting now, the orange rays bathing the ship in a glow that could only be called incandescent. As Killian led her on board, he saw her eyes widen at the sight of it, and it made an involuntary smile tilt his lips. Emma had been in so much pain when she'd been here last that she had her eyes shut for most of the time Killian had carried her from his cabin to the hospital. She was seeing the ship for the first time, and Killian was touched at her genuine reaction, the wonder in her eyes that nearly matched Henry's when he'd first been aboard. Killian sure knew where the lad got it from.

Emma's eyes held a curiosity and an awe that displayed every bit of the innocent heart of hers that she'd hidden away for so long. And it stunned Killian for a moment, just how childlike, how sweet her true spirit was. And how heartbreaking it was that she had stifled it for so long, had been so afraid to be who she truly was. Her true spirit was like a breath of fresh air, and it stirred something in him, something so similar, something he hasn't felt for centuries. For so long, his life had just been bitterness and resentment.

Emma had brought him back to life in more ways than one, and they both seemed to be finding their ways back to themselves, together.

Killian whispered a "Wait here," over her shoulder, and gently pulled his fingers from hers. It seemed to snap her out of the trance, and she looked at him, but he just smiled reassuringly, and went off to adjusting the ropes, preparing the ship. He refused Emma's help when she offered, and he could have sworn he heard her mutter something half-heartedly, something sounding like gentleman.

But soon, he'd set sail, sailing away from the coast a ways, dropping anchor when land was a shadow in the distance. He found Emma portside, looking out over the waves. He approached her, seeing an ease in her face, the same he always felt himself as he'd watch the water. It was his own sense of comfort, something he's relied on more times than he could count, one of the few things that has felt like home.

But looking at her now brought the same feeling, this sort of anchor that he's never felt before. He simply watched her for a moment, the breeze shifting the hair over her shoulder, and hell he's never seen anyone more beautiful.

He approached her, stepping up to her side, watching the waves himself. She smiled at his nearness, her smile so easy. And he matched it, taking her hand at the same time she reached for his, and he whispered, "Turn around, love."

She did, seeing him first, but when he gestured over his shoulder, he watched her eyes take in the sight with a little gasp.

On the other side of the ship, the sun was sitting at the horizon where the water met the sky, and the brilliance of the sunset reflected off the waves, cascading toward the ship. The water sparkled with the light in a way that didn't even look real.

"It's beautiful," said Emma, eyes lighting just as bright as the sun.

"Aye," he agreed softly, eyes on her.

Emma walked to the other side of the ship, pulling him with her, making him laugh a little at her insistence to get a better look. Her free hand rested on the rail when she reached it, absolute awe in her eyes. They watched the waves in the sunlight for a moment, just basking in the quiet moment.

"I always find the sea to bring a sense of calm," he said quietly. "Especially so in my most… trying times."

She smiled, letting out a breath that seemed like a breeze of personified relief, like she more than agreed. But she caught what his words meant, his intention for bringing her here, and she smiled a little more, something coloring her cheeks, as if she was touched he noticed.

And he only smiled more, because his plan seemed to have worked, for the tension she had carried all day had vanished.

"Thank you, Killian." she said softly.

The sound of his name sent a skip in his heart, as it has every time she's used it. He had no idea how much he'd missed being called his given name, and would never stop being touched at the fact that she saw him.

With a smile, Killian gently guided her to sit beside him on the ledge behind them, one that was weathered from centuries of musing over a million sleepless nights. He wrapped his hooked arm around her, pulling her closer, their hands still clasped over his thigh. And he felt shift even closer, laying her head to rest on his shoulder. His eyes shut at the feeling, at how right it felt. They watched the sun dip lower and lower, casting orange rays over them both until it disappeared below the horizon. They were quiet, simply enjoying each other's company, and Killian knew with a certainty that he could stay here with her forever.

The moon replaced the sun as they watched, shining brightly with the light of a million stars in the sky above them.

His eyes fell to Emma, her eyes on the stars like she'd never seen them before, and he kissed her hair. "Make a wish, love."

But she smiled at his kiss, saying softly, "You're already here."

The warmth that touched his chest was like none other, and he felt frozen for a moment with her words, touched beyond words.

"I've never seen stars like this before," said Emma softly. "Or, I guess I never… looked."

He smiled, brushing his fingers over her hair, saying, "They're almost as beautiful as you."

And it was her turn to blush, a little color touching her cheeks in the moonlight, like she wasn't used to hearing such words.

Something he was going to have to remedy.

"As a young sailor…" he said softly, the words eased out of him, words he's never said aloud, not even to Milah. "It was my dream to sail every sea, walk the lands of every realm, chart the stars of every sky." With a breath, his voice softened, brows kneaded a little. It's been centuries since he'd dreamed. After so long chasing his revenge, fury and pain had erased desire. He'd been numb, been empty nearly his entire life.

But his eyes fell to Emma, feeling his brows ease and his lips tilt, feeling those dreams rekindle, as well as new ones, all with her at his side.

Emma's fingers played with his a little as she watched the stars, musing, "I always wanted to see the world, too."

He brushed his thumb over her hand, smiling at the words as he said, "When the beans are ready… I'd like to see it with you, love."

Emma lifted her head off his shoulder, looking at him. "See the world?" she echoed softly.

"Aye," he said with a wider grin. "There are beautiful lands I've seen and many I've only heard of."

A glint of excitement jumped into her eyes, brighter than the stars.

"The lad is welcome to join, if he'd like, of course," said Killian, honesty in the words that seemed to touch Emma even more.

"Are you kidding? He'll love it," she said with a grin of her own.

His brow raised a little, at what sounded like her acceptance. "You'd like that?" he breathed.

As an answer, Emma kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise with her passion. He met her emotion, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he smiled through the kiss, never having felt anything like her before.

They broke the kiss after a moment, just looking at each other, mirroring their joy, and Emma said, "I'd love that." And she settled herself back on his shoulder, even closer to him than she was before, humming a little with either relief or happiness, and it sent a rush of feeling down Killian's spine.

"These lands you've been to," said Emma. "Tell me about them."

And, Killian's eyes on the stars, he softly told her of some of his travels, adventures that made Emma's smile grow, and Killian felt that age-old sense of freedom at his old wanderlust that had apparently never left him. And Emma was suddenly speaking some of her own, of a few of the places she'd run away to, places she'd coined Boston and California, things she's seen, things she's always wanted to do.

At one point, she'd told him of a heist of hers, and at his interest had her smiling. At his raised brow, she lifted the fingers of her free hand, wearing one of his rings on her thumb. He hadn't felt her take a bloody thing. She laughed at his surprise, and it had skipped his heart, hearing it.

Her laugh sounded like freedom.

Seconds later, she was lifting his own hand to him, the ring back on his finger as if it had never moved, her sleight-of-hand a magic all on its own. And she was smiling, something part amusement and part mischief and he couldn't help himself, telling her she'd make a fine pirate.

She didn't disagree.

And he found himself falling for her, more and more and more.

The more she told him, the more he wanted to know.

Bloody gods, he wanted to know everything about her.

He was softly telling her of his time on one of the many seas he'd traversed when he felt her weight deepen into him a little, and he looked down, seeing her eyes shut, feeling her breathe gently.

She was asleep.

He felt his breath catch.

It would never, ever, cease to amaze him that he's managed to gain her trust to such an extent.

He watched her sleep, memorizing the moment until he felt his own tiredness.

And, gently, he gathered her in his arms, careful not to wake her. She didn't, and he carried her gently to his cabin, laying her in his bed. The last time he'd done so had been when she was hurt. This time, however, there was a little tilt to her lips, an ease to her sleep.

An ease he somehow managed to elicit.

It made him smile.

He grabbed a few spare blankets, laying them out on the floor beside her. The desire to hold her was blinding, but it was still Emma, and he wouldn't dream of pushing her comfort zone. Just being near her was enough for him.

-.-.-.

Emma's eyes fluttered open, seeing the outline of Killian in the moonlight, pulling a blanket over her. It took her a moment to recognize his cabin.

She blinked sleepily, realizing that he had laid her on his bed.

He froze a little when he realized he'd woken her, and she saw his soft, hesitant smile. He began to straighten, and Emma saw a blanket laid on the floor beside the bed, as if for him. He'd already taken off his coat, and Emma realized he'd also taken off his hook.

Emma's hand caught his wrist before he could move away, and she kneaded her brows. "What are you doing?" she mumbled sleepily.

He smiled, moving a strand of her hair over her face. He kissed her cheek. "You fell asleep," he said, like he found it cute.

Emma blinked. The last thing she remembered was listening to him, trying to keep her eyes open, because she didn't want to miss a word, every one making her fall for him more.

But it appeared she had fallen asleep.

Which made her pause.

She slept.

No nightmares.

Just… peace.

And she had a good feeling why.

But something unsure jumped into his eyes, and he swallowed before saying, "I can take you home, if you'd rather I—"

"I meant, what are you doing with that," she mumbled instead, gesturing to the blanket on the floor.

He hesitated a little, saying, "I…"

But she shifted over, tugging a little on his wrist toward her, her eyes on his, permission shining through.

And he stared at her, like he didn't understand.

Not what he read in her eyes, but the fact that he was reading it.

"Are… are you sure?" he asked, voice even more hesitant, but backed with a hope.

Emma answered with another tug on his wrist, freeing a surprised, touched chuckle from Killian's chest.

And slowly, so tentatively, Killian got into bed beside her.

His warmth hit her immediately, his scent enveloping her even more, but none of it was a match for the sheer safeness his presence instilled in her, wrapping her in it like a blanket all on its own.

She could feel him unsure, like he didn't want to push her, and she smiled at it. He understood her, he knew her, and he respected her fears.

Fears that Emma no longer wanted to cower from.

Not with him.

So she shifted closer to him, wrapping her arms around him, as close as she could get. She shut her eyes, such a strong feeling of right washing through her as she rested her head over his chest.

And he stilled for a moment with surprise, obviously not expecting her to be so trusting, not like this. But, slowly, he wrapped his arms around her as well, pulling her even closer to him, and Emma felt herself sigh with relief.

"Goodnight, Killian," whispered Emma sleepily, already feeling herself drifting.

She felt him kiss her hair, whispering just as softly, "Goodnight, Emma."

And she fell asleep, wrapped in his arms, drifting into sleep.

Dreamless, peaceful, restful sleep, with a smile still on her lips.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dawn was just beginning to shine through the night, casting a faded ray of morning onto the sign, reading Welcome to Storybrooke.

A car pulled up to it, arriving in town, stopping at the sign.

The driver's door opened, and the driver stepped out, approaching the sign, holding something up next to it, comparing it.

A postcard.

With a sigh, he lowered the postcard, turning toward the town that was visible now, that hadn't been the few yards before the town line.

He got back in the car, putting the postcard back on the passenger seat, next to the only other two things he brought with him.

A keychain.

And a cane.

With a weary breath, Neal Cassidy put the car back into gear, and began to drive into the sleepy little town.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

a/n: *insert awkward-smile emoticon here*

Y'all wanted Neal to come to town lol. Emotional chaos shall ensue.

Hope you guys liked Regina's abdicating the throne to Snow - it was something I really wanted to do for them :) And the romantic in me just loves the idea of Killian and Emma going on some adventures before settling down, because god knows those two need to have some fun. So I hope you guys like the idea of it too. However we have some things to take care of before they get there, cough, Neal's arrival, cough, so stay tuned lol... xD

I'm gonna take a week or so off this story before working on it again so the next update might be a few weeks, but it will be coming as soon as my muse allows it :)

thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed! :)

~cosette141

tag list: @teamhook @jrob64 @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @fleurdepetite @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @sotangledupinit

[vickyvicarious]

For the ask game: Rumplestiltskin, please!

Headcanon A:  realistic

This might even be canon, I can’t remember since it’s been a while and I stopped watching midway through the Camelot arc. But I like thinking about the tropes of determinism and self-fulfilling prophecies with Rumple specifically. Those spinsters he met + the seer who he met seem so linked to the Fates from greco-roman myth to me. I absolutely hated the Author storyline and don’t subscribe to that, but I do really like the idea of Rumple seeing the future as Dark One and building all his plans around his glimpses, but in doing so he makes all sorts of choices that turn against him later. More because of how he carries out his manipulations to ensure the events he sees come true, than because they happen. For example he knows Emma is gonna be the Savior, and he knows he has to be Dark One to make it happen so he rejects Belle, but maybe he didn’t have to be the Dark One after all, and if he weren’t trying so hard to fulfill his vision things would still happen some other way that he’d be happier for. That kind of thing, if that makes sense?

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Allow me to point you towards my short but beloved “fashionista rumple” tag. Oh, yes, he very carefully curates those looks. He has opinions on everyone’s fashion choices. If he were ever to have retired to normal non-villainous life that doesn’t revolve around hoarding power or taunting people, his ideal career would be a personal stylist or clothing designer.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

I’m gonna resist my impulse to go down the literal heart-crushing road here, tempting as it is. Instead, let’s say this... Rumple has never been happy without a caveat. More specifically, he’s never been satisfied where he is. He is so insecure and paranoid and hateful of himself/dismissive of others. He’s this giant control freak and always has to be smug and have plans within plans within plans... The closest he ever comes to simply enjoying himself in the moment is with Belle and Bae, but even then he can never relax. He’s too afraid to trust them, too hungry to prove himself, too resentful or guilty about the past. Every chance he’s ever had to be happy has been wasted, almost all of them due to his own issues and actions. And Rumple is completely self-aware about this, and it just makes things even worse in his head because he can never stop thinking.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

....I’m so sorry, the one thing that keeps popping into my head is bloodbender!Rumple from my OUATLA AU. I still love that verse so much.

Um, in terms of actual showverse I would really have loved going more into Rumple and Henry’s relationship. Even if Henry still doesn’t make the cut to be one of the people Rumple cares about enough to alter his behavior somewhat (an exclusive list indeed), in my mind there’s some conflict leading up to that decision. Some more scenes that appear as soon as Rumple learns who Henry is, and then more whenever Neal isn’t around. Oh, also I really like thinking about his relationship of weird mentor/respect/manipulator with Emma (I wrote a meta on it once actually). I guess my reject canon change there would be him teaching Emma magic instead of Regina. A lot of interesting character interactions there, especially with Killian too.

.

send me a character and I'll answer with 4 headcanons

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 13/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Notes:

I want to thank everyone so much for following along on this tale, I truly enjoyed creating a tale within in a tale and I enjoyed the comments every week about the meddling Yenta Henry. I think I will never ever look at this fic again without seeing gif's of Beverly Goldberg. It made my day every week. You guys really are the greatest cheerleaders ever. I love our fandom.

Chapter 13: Happily Ever After

Emma stared at Killian; her mouth slightly open. “Is that so, brother?” Liam was speaking but Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the man beside her.

“Aye.” He said, his eyes locked on hers, a tentative smile on his face as he turned to his brother.

“We have food, would you care to join us, there’s plenty. Killian always cooks for a family of six when he makes food.”

His brother laughed. “That’s because he always eats enough for four.” He turned back to his brother. “I would hate to impose.”

“And miss the chance to hear all about Killian from his brother. I insist.” Emma demanded, leading the way back to the dining table.

Emma didn’t miss the look shared between the brothers, nor could she quiet the pounding in her heart at Killian’s introduction of her as his girlfriend. She was trying to pretend that everything was normal, that his admission didn’t cause her so much joy that she wanted to launch herself into his arms and kiss him silly.

Emma knew that this was a huge step for Killian. They agreed when they started dating in secret that they wouldn’t label it, it wasn’t easy, she wanted more than anything to be the one to break that wall with him, but she knew she needed to give him space.

They hadn’t defined anything with Henry or their friends. They simply spent their time together. Killian came for dinner most evenings, they would take Henry to the park or out sailing. But now…

He called her his girlfriend. Would this change things with their friends and family too?

“So can I ask, when did this pleasant surprise begin?” Liam brought her out of her thoughts.

Emma laughed and her eyes met Killian’s, she shrugged. “Emma and I have been seeing each other for a few months, actually.”

“I’m happy for you.” His brother said sincerely. “Emma, you must be made of magic if you could turn this man around. I did not think I would see the day.”

She chuckled, her eyes glassy, trying to avoid Killian’s gaze. “He only dates me for my son. I swear they are the same person sometimes.”

“Emma and Henry are very special.” He said softly beside her.

The dinner with Liam stirred emotions in Emma, listening to the stories about Killian and Liam’s childhood, their adventures in the Navy together, things that Emma had never known about Killian Jones she soaked up like a sponge. His interactions with his brother only made her care even more deeply for the man next to her.

When Liam announced his departure, Emma stood from the table and accepted a hug from the man. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you, Emma. Perhaps you can convince him to come and visit us in Maine. Elsa misses his face, and we would love to take Henry sailing.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered jokingly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you officially.”

He followed his brother out of the room and Emma dropped down to her seat, adrenaline suddenly taking over, tides of change were coming.

~*~

“Elsa does miss you.” His brother said as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Aye, I’ll work on being less of a stranger.”

“I’m happy for you brother. She’s lovely.”

“I’m over the moon for the woman, I can’t deny that. Sometimes I feel like a lovesick puppy dog just because she smiled at me. It’s all quite ridiculous.”

“Sounds like you’re in love.” He said with a rise in his brow. “You know you owe me a hundred dollars.”

“I what?”

“When you told me you’d never have another relationship, I called you a liar, you bet me a hundred dollars.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You had a lot of rum that night, brother.” He stepped through the front door. “I prefer large bills.”

“Out you go.” He lightly pushed him out the door. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Killian closed the door and exhaled as he leaned against it. He walked slowly back to the dining room, stopping in the arch to stare at the woman sitting at the table in front of him.

“I hope I didn’t overstep.” He said softly as she made eye contact with him. “We didn’t actually discuss that change in status.”

She stood up from her spot at the table and walked over to him quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips greedily seeking his. Killian barely had time to think much less react as he took a step back, colliding with the wall behind him. “Woah love, we have all night.”

“We could get interrupted again.” She moaned against his ear, and he couldn’t stifle his laughter.

“Do you think we should talk…” He let the question hang in the air and she pulled away from him.

“Unless it’s filthy, dirty, or full of those innuendos you’re so good at providing at the most inappropriate time, we can talk later.” Her mouth continued its assault on his neck, her fingers making quick work on the buttons of his shirt.

“You did hear me earlier with Liam, didn’t you?”

She pulled her face away from his neck, her hands resting on his cheeks. “Killian, you’ve been texting me for months telling me all the things you were going to do to me when we were alone. And now, your girlfriendwould really like to experience them.”

“So, you’re ok with what I said.”

“Are you having a panic attack now that you’ve said it?” She asked him, her face full of concern.

“No, I meant it, I just wanted to make sure that you were ok.”

She laughed. “Babe, you’ve been my boyfriend in my head from the moment I laid eyes on you, leather jacket, sexy accent…” She ran her hands through his hair. “The sex hair.”

“Sex hair? I beg your pardon.”

“You always look like you’ve just been fucked. It’s sexy as hell.” She growled into his ear, her teeth nipping at his lobe. “And I’ve always wanted to be the cause of it looking like that.”

“Alright, you have my attention, love.” He reached down, grasping her by her thighs and wrapping them around his waist as he spun himself around, dropping her onto the counter beside him.

“Do I finally get a ride on the Killian Jones express?” She teased, his mouth sucking at the pulse of her neck.

“Express?” His mouth pressed together in indignation. “It’s an insult to insinuate that a night with me ends expediently.” Her head fell back in laughter, and he frowned, pulling her hips hard against his groin, causing her to look up suddenly. “I intend to make all those naughty little dreams of yours a reality tonight.”

“Who said anything about naughty dreams, Jones?”

“Shall I retrieve the text messages?” He reached for the phone at the end of the counter as she grabbed his hand, pulling it back to her hip. His eyes grew dark as he dipped his head to her ear, growling against her skin. “Enough talking, I think it’s fine time I had my way with you, woman.”

“Promises, promises.” She said, her voice deep, full of all the want and desire he could ever hope to have.

As he lifted her from the counter, her lips soft yet inviting again his, he carried her to his bed. The first time with Emma was different than his previous conquests, times he spent with women who only captured his attention and not his heart.

But the moment their bodies connected in a mess of sweat and limbs, Emma’s name falling from his lips as she screamed into the open void of his apartment, he knew that he would never let her go.

As they lay together in the dark, her head against his chest, her fingers twirling the hair on his chest, Killian knew he was finally ready to step out of the shadow he had been living in and move forward with his life.

“Is my sex hair satisfying enough for you?” He teased as her nails scraped along his scalp.

She bit her lip and smiled. “Maybe after a few more times.”

He kissed her again, pressing her back into the mattress as she giggled against him. “I think we should talk to Henry.” He announced as he stared down at her.

She smiled softly. “I’m sure he suspects something already. You practically spend every moment with us.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Just stating fact.” She leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolled onto his side. “But I agree, we need to talk to Henry.” He brushed her hair out of her face, smiling up at her.

“You saved me.” He whispered. “Meeting you and Henry changed my life.”

“That’s the orgasm speaking.” She teased and he felt the emotion pour out of him the way her eyes sparkled as she joked with him. He’d never felt so at ease in all his life. It was as if she was made only for him. He couldn’t help the smile that formed, hearing Henry’s voice in his head.

That’s because she’s your true love.

“What?” She asked, a curious expression on her face.

“I love you.” It was only three words, but they were the most important three words he had ever uttered. He never thought he would speak those words to another woman again. Yet when they left his mouth, it was as if his entire world made sense.

She pushed up on her elbows, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. “I love you too.” She breathed against his mouth. “Thank you.”

“For what, love?”

“For trusting me with your heart and opening up your life to Henry and I.”

He kissed her with every emotion that was building inside of him, rolling her over onto her back as he drove into her once more.

~*~

“So, kid, is your mom dating this Killian guy now?”

“Yeah, they’re trying to keep it quiet, but I’m pretty sure it’s happening.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know when mom’s happy, and she’s really happy when Killian’s around.”

His dad grunted. “Yeah but it’s not just about your mom’s happiness, I mean your opinion matters too, kid. If you don’t like the guy, that should factor in.”

“I love Killian, I’m the one that set them up after all.” Henry replied with a huge grin.

“Oh.”

“Look, I’m gonna be really honest with you dad, because Killian told me that the only way I’m going to feel better about you and me is if I tell you the truth.”

“You talked to him about me?”

“Before you go getting all jealous, let me just say this.” He paused and his dad sat back at the table. “I love you, you’re my dad. And you’re always going to be my dad, but I don’t like coming over here.”

His dad frowned angrily. “Kid…”

“Wait, I don’t like coming over here because I feel like you only want me here because it gets me away from mom or attracts those women who want to pretend like they’re my mom.” His dad started to speak, and Henry pressed on quickly. “If I come over here, I want it to be because you want to hear about my day, or you missed me, or you want to hang out at the park. And you gotta be there, you can’t keep disappearing on these business trips that have nothing at all to do with business. Either I’m your priority or an acquaintance you see once a year. Your choice.”

“Is this you speaking, or your mom?”

“See, you can’t keep saying things like that. I’m almost twelve years old, I’m not six anymore dad, you can’t keep lying to me and not expect there to be consequences. I love you and I want to spend time with you, but I’m not a pawn in your game to get back at mom.”

“Henry, I’m not trying to get back at your mom.”

“Maybe not, but you see her as the bad guy in this and all I see is my mom and dad. I don’t want to make you the bad guy in my life. But you don’t make it easy.”

His dad exhaled. “I’m not good at this dad thing, am I?”

“Not really.” He said with a laugh.

“I’m never gonna be able to handle things like your mom does, she organizes everything, knows what she’s supposed to do or not do. Even Killian seems to understand you better than I do. I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be, kid.”

“I don’t need you to be good at it. I just need you to be my dad.”

Henry felt relieved as his dad drove him home that evening. Killian was right, talking to him about how he felt made him feel better. All the anger and disappointment he had been holding inside about his dad had only led to him resenting his time with him.

He knew it would take time, and he was sure that his dad would not always succeed in his promise to do better, but at least he wanted to try. That was all he could ask for right now.

When he returned home, his mother was acting odd. Fidgety almost. He asked her if something had happened while he was gone but she assured him that everything was alright. When he asked if he could visit Killian, she told him that he had some errands to run and would be over for dinner.

“How was your dad?”

Henry bit his lip, he hated this part, coming home from one parent and having to decide which information to share with the other one. It was honestly why he found confiding in Killian just made more sense to him. “Fine. I got to try that new restaurant down by the water. Good fries.”

“That’s nice. So, things went ok?”

“Yup.”

The front door opened, and Henry was relieved when Killian walked through the door with a bag of groceries in his arms. It wasn’t exactly a new thing; Killian had often bought his mom groceries for dinner. However, walking in the door unannounced was not something he did. Usually he knocked, his mom would answer, they would act surprised that the other was stopping by. It was a game he let them play.

“I found everything to make the pasta, but they didn’t have that wine in stock that you love so much, but I got that one we had last week at the diner after work when...”

His mother cleared her throat beside him, and Henry had to conceal a grin from his face. Who did they think they were fooling with any of this? “Looks who made it home.” She said, her eyes narrowed in his direction.

Killian paused in his steps and turned toward them. “Lad, I didn’t think you’d be home for another hour.” He pointedly stared at his mother.

“Neal dropped him off early.” Henry just shook his head and continued reading his book. “So, I was thinking we could talk to him, about that thing you wanted to talk to him about.” Henry slowly put his book in his lap. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

“What’s going on with you two? You’re acting weird.”

Killian came and joined them on the couch, his mother scooting over to allow him room next to her. “So, Killian and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

They looked so serious, in fact, Killian looked like he may vomit at any moment, his mother was almost green around the edges. “Are you having another baby?”

“What?” His mother exclaimed loudly. “Oh God no, why would you think that? Of course, I’m not having a baby, Henry.” She stuttered. “Not that that’s a terrible thing, I just, not now, and…”

Killian reached over and put his hand on hers. “Henry, what your mother is trying to say…”

“You’re dating.” Henry added quickly, putting them out of their misery.

“Wait what?” His mother replied, her face sincerely shocked.

“Mom, everyone knows.”

“How, we’ve been so discrete?”

“Really? With the way you two look at each other, Killian practically trips over himself to help you do the dishes just so you can go to the other room and kiss.”

“Wait, everyone knows?” Killian finally joined the conversation.

“Yeah, Will and I have a joke about it actually. That’s why he always says he’s going home to do the dishes with Belle.”

“Oh my God.”

“Look, it’s cool. I love you both, I’m happy you guys finally figured it out, and having it all out in the open will make everything so much easier.” He stood up and kissed his mother on the cheek and patted Killian on the shoulder. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

~*~

“So, you guys just let us carry on and never said a word.”

“Of course, I wasn’t going to bloody scare off the first man you’ve truly seemed happy with. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little sneaking around.” Will reached over and squeezed Belle’s knee, earning a slap on his shoulder from the brunette.

“I’m really happy for both of you.” Belle said softly and Emma saw the exchange between Killian and the woman. It was soft and sincere, and she was happy that Belle continued to be friends with him.

“If Henry hadn’t locked the two of you on that roof we might still be waiting for some sense to be knocked into you.” David joked.

“My brother may be stubborn but once he becomes attached to something, there’s no taking it away from him.” Liam added.

Emma leaned her head on Killian’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. She had everything she could ever have wished for in her life. She felt his lips press against her forehead. “It seems our brothers are enjoying taking the piss out of us.” Emma laughed loudly.

“That’s what family is for.”

~*~

Killian never imagined that his life could change as much as it had in the past year. Emma and Henry had become a vital part of his life. At one point, he had reconciled with the fact that he would spend his life alone, now he felt as if he never had to worry about being on his own again.

Having a teenager was an adjustment in their life. Henry suddenly became more interested in girls and less interested in video games, but he continued his interest in writing and his imagination came in handy when the day arrived that he knew it was time to have the conversation with Liam. His brother had grown fond of Emma and handed over his mother’s ring before he even had the chance to recite the speech Henry had helped him write.

Henry assisted Killian with all the planning, decorating, and gathering of their family and friends. And when he got down on one knee in front of everyone they loved, Henry standing by his side, all his nervousness that had followed him through the planning was gone the moment he looked into her eyes. He knew her answer before she spoke, she was an open book to him, the only answer he needed was the love shining back at him in her eyes.

She was his true love, and he would remain devoted to her until the day he died.

~*~

“What time do you have to be back at the apartment?”

“I told Killian I would be there by 5. I think he’s nervous so I should probably be there before 4, just to be safe.”

“When I married your mom, I threw up right before I walked out.” His father said with a slight chuckle. “He’ll be fine.”

“What time are you picking me up tonight?”

“Take your time, just text me when the festivities are over.”

Henry was excited to get to spend the next few weeks with his dad, they were going on a road trip while his mom and Killian flew to the Caribbean for their honeymoon. Things weren’t always perfect between his mom, dad, and Killian, but they were all trying to be there for Henry, and he appreciated the effort.

Later that evening, his mother dressed in white, Henry held on tightly to her, guiding her up the stairs arm in arm as he walked her toward the roof of Skyline Apartments. Killian barely held it together as he passed her hand to his, tears coming to everyone’s eyes when they spoke their vows. By the time the fireworks exploded over the harbor, with his mother now officially Mrs. Emma Jones, Henry felt like the luckiest kid in the world.

His mother found her happy ending, her true love, and Henry had the adventure of a lifetime. Henry’s adventure became a quest to find his place in his family, and now he had a mother, a father, and the best stepfather he could ask for. A woman who gave everything to motherhood who thought she had lost her chance to find an extraordinary love, a father who learned to love his child more than himself, and a man who thought he was a villain who turned out to be a hero when he opened his heart to possibilities. Henry wouldn’t want his story to end any other way.

~*~

Henry had set sail on the Jolly Roger with his mother and Captain Jones a year prior. They had seen the world, conquered dragons, and been to exotic lands.

Henry finally learned how to sword fight after many lessons between Captain Jones and his mother, he rescued a fair maiden from a sorcerer, earning his first kiss, and learned to sail a ship as grand as the Jolly Roger.

Princess Emma sailed alongside Captain Jones, earning the honorary title Captain Swan from the man who took her under his wing and his crew. True love always guiding them on their adventures throughout the realms.

For Henry, he had unfinished business to tend to, and the first time they docked in Bostonia, he visited his father, Baelfire in prison. Captain Jones had convinced Master Henry that everyone, even a villain deserved a second chance. And so, every time they stopped in port at Bostonia, Henry got to know the man who abandoned him as a child. While it was not the same as the bond formed between him and Captain Jones, he found enough in common with Baelfire to create an understanding with the man and eventually a friendship that would last a lifetime.

As for Princess Emma and Captain Jones, they lived happily ever after.

The End.

[apiratewhopines]

Something Suspiciously Like Hope

Summary — The moment Captain Hook opens himself up to the possibility of love

Read on AO3

Inspired by Reception Redos and Jellymoons by Jrob64.

A gift for Joni @jrob64 as a thank you for the artwork she did for Killian, Persuaded. If words equaled gratitude, a million wouldn’t be enough.

David asked him once when he knew Emma was the one. He had hemmed and hawed, uncharacteristically shy about confessing his feelings to his father-in-law. One could argue that most people would have the same reaction when questioned by a man whose love life went down as the stuff of myths and legends. Although, when everything was said and done, Killian thought his own love story hadn’t turned out too shabby even with the many twists and turns it had taken over the centuries.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the tenderness of his emotions or the intimidation factor of Prince Charming being the inquisitor. No, the reason for his reluctance was something else entirely.

His life had changed so much, he had changed so much, that sometimes revisiting those early days of his acquaintance with Emma seemed like someone else’s life. He had been his normal roguish self, pushing and taunting to hide his genuine fascination with the blonde beauty who had steel running through her spine and fire in her blood.

She wasn’t charmed. Hell, he wasn’t even sure she was interested until he was already well past the point of no return. He had ached with longing, his body tense and mind restless, all the while trying to figure out how to pull her closer with hands already full of bitterness and tightly gripping on to vengeance.

He was ashamed at how long it had taken him to realize the price he needed to pay for the magic of her love was to let go of the past.

As he twisted himself inside out in his quest to become the man she deserved, the man he wanted to be, he would often think about when it began. Why after over a century of loneliness did a continuation of his life as it was suddenly seem unbearable? Why this woman who clearly was immune to his particular brand of charisma? Why abandon his sole goal, and all hope of revenge, for someone who merely tolerated him at best?

The answer was her heart.

Not her heart in the sense of her goodness, her courage, or her kindness. Although all those things formed pieces of the net that entrapped him.

He meant her heart in a very literal, and physical, manner.

Killian Jones had lain dormant for decades, buried under a cutthroat exterior and cunning mind bent on revenge. The young man who had been abandoned by his father and suffered through the loss of more loved ones than anybody should, rebelled against his role of victim and bystander of his fate. When he was forced to watch his brother die for the greed of an ignoble king, it had been the final straw.

But he had still been him. Still Killian, although a little more battle-weary and scarred.

Then he met Milah. His kindred spirit in all the ways that mattered, a companion who thirsted for freedom and adventure in a way that stole his breath. He had loved her as only a person who knew how it felt to lose someone could. Desperately, beyond reason, like a man who had lost his sight and clung hopelessly to the memory of his last sunset all the while knowing soon it, like everything else in his life, would fade.

And he had been right in the worst possible way.

Captain Hook was born out of loss, rigid in his purpose, unflinching in his objectives. But he was also a shield. Once committed to his bloodlust, Killian knew he was signing on to a life empty of love and friendship. The Dark One was not an enemy who respected fair play. The evil imp would find what you cared about, torture you with it, and then destroy all your happiness.

So it had seemed easier to not be happy in the first place.

It was a sacrifice he willingly made. He could have made the case his struggle was a noble one. After all, when you started a blood feud with the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, you couldn’t go about your business like it was any other Tuesday. So he was really doing everyone a favor by never carrying on beyond dalliances and the murky friendships with his crew that were more about loyalty and obedience than true affection.

Of course, it was all a lie.

He knew it the moment he saw her heart. Or rather, didn’t see it.

For all his musings and certainties he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance from the rest of humanity, the truth was he did it because he couldn’t suffer another loss. He didn’t want to see one more person he loved with their heart ripped from their chest and crushed to dust. If any speck of Killian Jones was to survive, it was better to bypass any entanglements.

He was prepared to stay the course. He took up with all types of villains and unsavory characters and found they were the best sort of people. People who cut off emotion and consciences like gangrenous limbs in order to save themselves.

They were his people.

And then, the moment that changed everything.

They said Lake Nostos had the ability to return to you what was lost. He just hadn’t expected it to come in a flood of emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed him.

As delightful as he had found Emma up until then, he was still prepared to double-cross and cheat her if it meant he could finally sink his hook into the Dark One’s thick hide. However, his attraction to her aside, he believed in good form and he wouldn’t cause her or her companions any more harm than necessary in his quest. Despite her uncalled for betrayal on their beanstalk journey, her orphan eyes called him back to his better days and he found while he couldn’t exactly forgive her defection, he could respect her singularity of purpose.

After all, wasn’t his own single-minded pursuit what had gotten him into the mess to begin with? Then he was trapped between a rock and a hard place. Cora would surely make him pay if he crossed her again and Emma wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Even he wasn’t sure which side he would land on, the internal struggle and cat-and-mouse game distracting him from the sword fight and leading to an opening the Swan girl took advantage of in a way that strangely made him proud.

As he watched from his place in the sand, Cora reached into Emma’s chest.

His eyes had shut tightly against the image. Echoes of past tragedies ripped through him, reminding him that love was pain, to keep his distance because all hope was already lost.

And then, nothing.

Against his better judgement, he opened his eyes and saw Cora’s empty hand. A wave of light so pure it burned his skin pulsed out from Emma, leaving him woozy. He watched Snow and her adult daughter jump into his portal but he was too dazed to register the fact that once again his chance at revenge was stolen from him.

Honestly, he started having an inkling it didn’t even matter anymore.

His mind whispered, “She’s safe.”

His heart whispered, “She’s the one.”

His soul whispered, “She’s everything.”

Years later, he admitted to himself it was then, at his bleakest point, the first rays of dawn had peeked through his unending darkness. He had even joked with Henry one time it was the moment he decided to win the heart of the woman whose heart couldn’t be stolen.

As he stood and watched his latest opportunity to get even with his archenemy close, he couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. Ignoring Cora’s murderous stare, he had looked at the peaceful waters and wondered if there was truly someone that would be safe from the Dark One’s machinations. Someone who already called to him on levels he had buried deeply before her grandparents had even been born.

Perhaps it hadn’t been full-blown love but it was the start of something. Something suspiciously like hope.

[donteattheappleshook]

It Was Only a Kiss 1 /3

Summary:

Neverland may kill her. If it’s not her fear for Henry, then it will her exhaustion, or her doubt, or the overwhelming despair that she’ll never get out of here alive, that she’ll fail her son, that she’ll fail everyone. There’s only one thing she’s found that can silence it all, that can make her feel real again. She shouldn’t be seeking comfort in Hook. She shouldn’t, but she does. It was only a kiss. That was all it was supposed to be. But now that she’s started, she doesn’t think she can stop. Not now that she knows what it’s like. 

Rated E. 

Also available on Ao3

My first entry for the @neverlandnewyear​ 

Disclaimer: @elizabeethan and I are very aware that we are basically writing the same story. This is how the event started. A big thank you to Elizabeth for betaing this fic and to @xhookswenchx as well for letting me brainstorm out loud with you guys. 

***

Part One: Neverland

It had all started with a kiss. That was all it was supposed to be. Just a kiss; a one time thing. She’d been feeling good, she’d been relieved, he’d saved her father’s life for god’s sake. What she hadn’t expected was that kissing him would make her feel better- would make her feel like, for a second, things would stay better. For a whole thirty seconds, she’d forgotten that she was trapped in fucking Neverland, that her son was missing, that her parents were breathing down her neck, constantly giving her these sad desperate eyes, begging for mother daughter bonding time or ready to offer up speeches about hope. 

No, for thirty goddamn seconds- for the first time in months- she’d just been Emma Swan and he’d just been Captain Hook and nothing else had mattered. It had been addictive, that feeling, that relief, the rushing of her blood and the turning in her stomach being brought on by excitement and desire rather than fear and anxiety. So she’d shut it down. “Don’t follow me,” she’d ordered, afraid of what might happen if he did, of what she’d do. She couldn’t start flirting and making out with Hook, or doing anything else with him for that matter. Not while her son was out there, not if she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. 

To his credit, he respects her wishes. He waits a whole twenty minutes before returning to camp, arms full of firewood. She doesn’t miss the nod her father gives him and it raises a strange sort of satisfaction in her. She doesn’t know exactly what went on between them on their little adventure but this is the first time David hasn’t glared daggers at him since they met. When Hook’s eyes meet hers though, she swears the whole damn camp must feel the tension between them. 

Her body stiffens, that twisting in her gut coming back in a mix of the good and the bad now, but he doesn’t say anything. He only smiles at her a little sadly before dumping the wood into the fire pit so Regina can light it. Then he takes a seat across the camp, as far from her as he can manage and pulls out his flask. She only realises she’s staring when she catches herself watching his throat as he swallows. Stop. 

“We should turn in,” she says, noting how dark it is suddenly. Hadn’t it been midday less than an hour ago? Does time even exist on this island where it seems to both stand still and move too fast? 

“Aye,” Hook says, nodding and returning his flask to his pocket. “I’ll take the first watch.” She almost expects her parents or even Regina to protest, but to her surprise no one does. 

As they set about unrolling the bed mats, she can’t help but glance over at him. Something is… off. She’s not sure what it is, but he’s quiet. Way too quiet. Normally she can’t get him to stop talking- one innuendo or flirtatious comment after another- but now, nothing. 

When she glances over again, he’s watching her, eyes boring into her like he’s trying to burn a hole through her and still, there’s that sadness, that regret. That’s what it looks like: regret. Does he regret kissing her? After all his quips about fancying her and the little playful smirks, has he changed his mind? 

She focuses back on what she’s doing. Who cares if he regrets it? She should regret it. It was a stupid idea. Her son is here. Everyday he gets further and further away from her. She knows how easy it is to start believing you’ve been abandoned. How easy it is to slide into the role of an orphan, to build walls. The thought of Henry feeling any of what she spent her whole childhood feeling - it kills her and that unpleasant twisting in her gut is back, the one that makes her want to vomit. She doesn’t know how to get rid of it, how to stop it. 

Well, she does know one way. But she can’t do that. Not again. She tells herself that over and over again. She can’t. She tells herself that as she lays down on her mat. She tells herself as she listens to Regina complain about sleeping in the forest. She tells herself as she hears her parents whispering sickeningly sweet nothings to each other.  She tells herself again as she hears everyone’s breathing even out and the jungle goes quiet- she can’t. But they’re all asleep. Well, everyone except her. Everyone except her and Hook. 

She hears him sigh, a deep, heavy thing, and she turns over to face him. She can’t see him well in the dark but she can make out that his head has fallen into his hand, and can picture him running it through his hair in frustration. Even from here, she can sense how tense he is. 

His hand scrubs over his face and he lets out another one of those sighs, this one angrier, and stands suddenly to cross the small space quickly, pacing back and forth. He reaches a tree then and she jumps as he strikes it. 

She must have made a sound because his head snaps towards her, clearly on high alert, and it makes her feel a little better having him keeping watch. His shoulders relax when he realises it was her and not some lost boy trying to find his way into the camp. 

She meets his eyes in the dark. Even in the blackness of the night, she can feel his stare heavy on hers and her heart hammers against her ribcage. She shuts her eyes tight, determined to just stop thinking about everything- about him, about Henry, about Pan,- and just sleep, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, she finds more fears, more worries, more doubts, and soon she’s sitting up, scrubbing a hand over her own face. 

The tell tale sound of his flask being opened makes her turn to look at him as he drinks deeply from it before leaning against the tree he’d struck earlier. His head falls back against it as another sigh leaves him. There’s a long silence, the jungle is heavy and quiet as the dead, not even a rustling of wind or a chirping cricket, and it sends a shiver down her spine. 

He doesn’t say anything, but after a moment, he raises his arm while holding the flask out in her direction. She only hesitates for a moment- she shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have a midnight drink with Hook. She shouldn’t want to ask him what’s wrong. Shouldn’t want him to ask her what’s wrong. 

She shouldn’t, but she does anyway. 

Emma takes the flask from him and swallows a mouthful, wondering for a moment how it could still be full. Knowing him, it’s probably enchanted. The rum feels good as it burns down her throat, settling hot in her stomach. She takes another drink. 

She hands it back to him finally and he takes it, his fingers closing over hers around the bottle, and she looks up at him with a sharp inhale. Neither of them move even though every fiber in her body is telling her to step closer. Or to run away. She nearly does, nearly uses their shared grip to pull him closer, nearly turns and heads back to her mat to fein sleep. 

But then he drops his hand, taking the bottle with him, and she regains her senses. This is Hook, she reminds herself. He’s one of the bad guys, or he was. She’s not even sure anymore. But he still hasn’t said anything, and it’s starting to worry her. Here they are, almost alone in the dark, drinking together, and he hasn’t so much as raised an eyebrow at her. Surely he can’t regret kissing her that much. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks finally, the words falling out of her mouth of their own free will. 

“Nothing.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she pushes. 

He shrugs, taking another drink. “You don’t have to.” 

“Hook.”

“Swan,” he repeats and she rolls her eyes. That makes him smile a little at least. “Why are you up?” he asks, turning the question on her. 

“Can’t sleep,” she says simply, taking the flask from him again. It’s definitely enchanted. 

“Why not?” he pushes and when she doesn’t answer, he grins at her a little. Fine. They can keep their secrets. “Funny thing about Neverland,” he says then, and she looks at him wearily. “The ones who’ve always known love sleep soundly. It’s the ones who’ve been left behind who can’t find rest. That’s why you hear the Lost Boys at night.” She straightens her shoulders, her jaw clenching. Open book, he’d said. He nods, like she’s confirmed something. “So you do hear them.”   

“How’s your hand?” she snaps, changing the subject. He doesn’t seem so restful himself.

“Which one?” he asks and she’s relieved to hear the teasing slipping back into his tone. Instead of answering, she takes another drink. He flexes his fingers a few times, turning his hand over to look at his knuckles. 

“I’ve had worse,” he tells her, gesturing vaguely with his hook and she nearly chokes on the rum. He smirks and takes the bottle back when she hands it over. “You should sleep, Swan. Get some rest.” 

“Yeah, well,” is all she can say. She’d love to sleep, but as long as Henry’s out there… Another silence hangs between them. “He’ll be alright,” Killian says then, and her heart swells into her throat, her voice coming out cracked and weak when she speaks. She wonders if Henry’s sleeping tonight, or if he already feels like a lost boy. 

“How do you know?” 

“If he’s anything like his father,” he starts and then looks at the ground for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “If he’s anything like you, then I’ve no doubt he can outwit Pan long enough for us to find him. He’s brave, Swan. You taught him well. I know a survivor when I see one.” 

And that’s it. She breaks. A sob bursts from her chest, her hand snapping up to cover her mouth as every horrible thought she’s had since they got here- every thought she’s pushed down and refused to face- comes rushing to the surface. 

She didn’t teach him. Any bravery, any survival drive he has isn’t because of her. She left him. She abandoned him. She left him to fend for himself in a world that she knew was nothing but cruel. She’s only known him a year. And if this year is all she gets with him, if Pan wins, if he takes Henry from her… She can’t lose him, not when she’s only just found him.

She struggles to muffle her cries, desperate not to wake her parents but unable to stop herself now. She can’t handle another speech about hope, about good always winning. Not when they’re so close to finding Henry but just as close to losing him forever. Good doesn’t always win; life’s proved that to her over and over again. If she’d kept him, if she’d just held him that one time, he wouldn’t be here at all. He’d be safe. He’d be with her. There wouldn’t be any magic or villains or monsters to threaten him. This is her fault. She can’t lose him. 

Hook only hesitates a moment before he’s pulling her into his arms, cradling the back of her head in his hand and letting her tears seep into his shirt and his chest, letting her silence her cries against the leather of his coat. Her fingers find the chain on his neck and twist around it for something to hang onto, something to ground her. 

He doesn’t say a word and she’s grateful for it. There’s nothing he could say that could make this better. Everything hurts. Her chest burns from strain and fear and she can’t stop thinking, can’t stop crying, though that’s all she wants. She wants it to stop, all of it. She wants to stop hurting. She wishes she’d never come to Storybrooke, wishes she’d never broken the fucking curse, wishes she’d never seen Neal again and let him and Tamara and all this fucking magic and madness into Henry’s life. He’d have been better off without them- without her. 

Her sobs slow after what feels like hours, all the energy drained from her body, but the pain won’t go away. She may have run out of tears to shed, but the fear and self-loathing are still wracking her body, making her shake as she holds tighter to Hook’s necklace, her other hand finding the fabric of his shirt and bunching it in her fist. 

She can hear him shushing her softly, his lips pressing against her temple as she trembles again. The sharp pain in her chest morphs into an ache that fills both of her lungs, suffocating her, drowning her. It overwhelms her, the grief, as though she’ll never be happy again. She imagines this is what it’s like to have her heart ripped out. She wonders if that would hurt less.

She just wants it all to stop. She can’t take it, feels like she’s going to crumble under the weight of it. She just needs something good. Just one fucking good thing, one good feeling. She turns her face into Hook's neck, seeking the warmth of his skin against her drying cheeks and the comfort of his soothing phrases breathed against her ear. She just wants it to stop. She just wants to feel something else, wants to know she still can feel something else. 

She slides her hand from the chain at his chest up to his neck and pulls him down enough so she can press her lips to his. It’s messy and desperate, but he lets her kiss him, lets her fist her fingers in his hair and slide her tongue past his lips, and slowly, the pain is overtaken by this new ache that he stirs in her. It’s not enough, though. His hand is at her hip but she needs it everywhere, she needs him to erase every thought and feeling with his mouth and his hand and his hook. She needs him to make everything go away like he did earlier. She just needs more.

Her lips find his jaw and his neck, trailing heady, open-mouth kisses to his collarbone, and she hears his strangled moan as he catches his lip between his teeth, his breath panting above her. 

“Emma,” he whispers, and she knows he thinks they should stop. The others are right there. But like he said, they can sleep soundly. “Emma, wait,” he says, a little desperately as she pushes him back against the tree. But she doesn’t listen. She shuts him up with her mouth on his as her hands reach for the few measly buttons he actually bothered to fasten. Her fingers undo them quickly and move to his belt before he stops her with his hook on her wrist. “Emma, I - I can’t…” 

“What?” she demands to know. Why can’t he? She knows he wants to, she can feel the evidence pressing against her stomach through his leathers, and while his hook may have stopped her, his hand has a death grip on her hip. His head falls back against the tree.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, and she can tell from his tone that she won’t like it; that it’ll hurt. She doesn’t want that. She’s had enough of that. She just wants him. 

“I don’t want to know.” She shakes her head and tugs him closer, and he lets out a sound that’s close to a whine.

She knew kissing him was dangerous; even as she pulls him back to her and kisses him again, she feels the rush of relief from the exhilaration and she knows she’s already hooked. She craves him and the release she knows he can bring her. “Please,” she says pathetically against his lips.

He doesn’t stop her from kissing him, but he doesn’t move until she reaches for his belt again and he stops her once more. She nearly lets out a cry of frustration, as she snaps her head back to glare at him. He barely gives her a second to be truly angry before his hand grasps the back of her neck and he kisses her like he’s drowning, like she’s the air he needs to breathe. 

He turns her, pushing her back against the tree behind her as he tilts her head so he can open her mouth and find her tongue with his own. She moans softly against his lips and reaches desperately for him, clawing at his jacket, sliding her hands into his open shirt, dragging them through the hair at his chest. 

He pulls back with a gasp and takes both her hands, pulling them away from him and trapping her arms at her side. She has a mind to protest but his lips find her neck, trailing down her throat to her collarbone and down her chest and the words die on her lips. His teeth and tongue tease at the spot beneath her ear, the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, making her writhe against him. 

He finally releases one of her hands so that his own can trace up her side, slide under her shirt and cup her breast in his palm. His thumb drags over the peak through her bra and he swallows her gasp with his mouth. She frees her other hand, giving up on undressing him and tangling both into his hair as he shoves her shirt aside with his hook and drags his tongue over one nipple before taking it into his mouth. 

She’s too loud again and his lips quiet her even as his fingers trail down her stomach to the waist of her jeans. He pauses, toying with the button, the scratch of his nails against her skin driving her insane and he looks at her as he pulls away long enough to meet her eyes. She realises what he’s waiting for and nods furiously, dragging his mouth back to hers as he makes quick work of popping the button and yanking down the zipper. 

The first touch of his fingers against her center is bliss and fire. She only barely manages to catch her moan, it coming out as a desperate sigh, her forehead falling against his as she grabs his lapels the way she had that afternoon. She expects him to say something, to smirk or laugh or whisper filth in her ear, but instead he just watches her, eyes fixated on her face as his fingers slide inside of her and find a rhythm. 

When his thumb finds her clit, she can’t contain the sounds she makes anymore and he captures her mouth with his to keep her quiet, his kisses languid and slow and deep as his hand works her higher. He’s everywhere, his tongue sliding against her own, his fingers curling and circling, his chest pressed to hers. He’s all she can see and think and feel and she lets it overwhelm her, lets all the horrible thoughts of the day and of this place slip away under his touch. 

When her mouth leaves his for air- hands fisting tighter in the leather and pulling him even closer as she pants and gasps, already nearly there- his lips find her neck. He presses slow, deliberate kisses against her skin, his tongue playing against every sensitive spot he can find as his fingers and thumb work faster, driving her to that edge she so desperately wants to fall over. 

“Yes,” she whispers into the darkness when he finds just the right spot, just the right pace, and he redoubles his efforts. She can feel him watching her, can see the awe and the reverence in his eyes as he watches her come apart on his hand, and it’s too much. She drags his mouth back to hers, rolling her hips and riding his fingers until she comes with a gasp, her head falling back against the tree as for one, small moment, she feels something good again. 

When she comes to, he’s pressing soft, gentle kisses to her jaw and below her ear as his fingers slow within her. She doesn’t protest when he takes her lips with his own again, too boneless and blissed out to register the intimacy of his kiss, to be bothered by it. She reaches for the laces of his pants, but he shakes his head, resting his forehead against hers. 

There’s a moment when she can tell he wants to say something, his whole body tensing and his brow pulling down like he’s in pain. But instead he kisses her again, harder and more desperate than before. There’s an edge to it, like he worries this will be the last time. 

And it should be, she reminds herself. Fuck. She just let Captain Hook finger her against a tree a few dozen feet from where her parents sleep. She nearly let him fuck her against it. What the hell was she thinking? She wants to tell him that this was a mistake, that it was another one time thing,but as his lips leave hers and a sigh leaves him, she knows she can’t promise either of them that. 

The moment he steps back, she can feel the bad thoughts starting to creep in again and she nearly grabs him and holds him close just to keep them at bay. It’s never been like this. She’s never craved the comfort of a man’s presence, of his touch before. And it scares the shit out of her. 

“You should get some sleep, love,” he tells her and she nods, only half registering what he’s saying. She doesn’t know what to say. Should she thank him? Address what this was or wasn’t? Warn him not to tell anyone? No, he wouldn’t do that. So she says nothing, setting her clothes right and returning to her mat. 

She watches him as she tries to sleep, watches the tension return to his shoulders and the heaviness return to his composure. When he looks up at one point, finds her in the dark and catches her studying him, his brow pinches tight and then relaxes, a melancholy and a want settling over his features and it stirs new longing in her gut. Fuck. She should never have kissed him. 

***

The next morning, Mary Margaret tells her Neal is alive. She doesn’t believe it. Not until she looks to Hook and sees the guilt and the shame on his face and she knows it’s true. Was that what he wanted to tell her last night? Was that why he wouldn’t let her touch him? 

Neal’s alive. The revelation settles like a lead weight in her gut. She can’t. She can’t handle him being alive. After all the pain he’d caused her, his death had finally let her put him behind her, let her move on from everything he’d done… let her begin to see the possibility of being happy again. And now he’s coming crashing back into her life again. 

They have to find him. She knows they do; he’s Henry’s father. She owes her son the attempt to rescue him if nothing else. She may never forgive him, but Henry has a right to make up his own mind, so they head off after him. Another detour, another chance at breaking her heart again, another chance to hurt. 

She doesn’t know why she tells Mary Margaret. The words just slip out. ‘I kissed him.’ She can’t explain why she did it either, can’t explain to the woman who preaches hope that she feels hopeless, that finding solace in Hook and what he makes her feel is the only thing keeping her alive, keeping her going right now. She’d never understand. 

‘I’m sure Neal will understand,’ she says, and it feels like a slap. She thinks she needs Neal to forgive her, after everything he’s done. She doesn’t say much else the rest of the way. 

“I kissed Emma.” The confession makes her roll her eyes. They did a hell of a lot more than kiss. How is that his biggest secret? But what he says next, about moving on, about finding love again… until I met you. 

Her heart hammers against her chest and she fights to ignore all the feelings his reveal brings to the surface. She’d thought maybe, with Neal dead, she could start to think of moving on, of trying again. But he’s not dead. And Hook just told her he’s falling for her and all of it is too much and she can’t handle it. She needs to focus on Henry. He’s all that matters. Her feelings, what she wants, it doesn’t matter. 

When they make their way back to camp, Neal finds her and she feels the need to apologize. Everything she said in the cave was true, but it was harsh. He may have hurt her more than anyone in her life ever had or likely will again, but she can’t help but feel guilty. She blames Mary Margaret. 

“I have a secret, too,” he tells her. “I’ll never stop fighting for you.” 

Her throat constricts, she can barely talk, barely breathe through it. No! she wants to shout. No, I don’t want that. He hadn’t listened to her at all. She’d told him she wished he was dead, that the idea of him being alive, of being a walking, talking reminder of the worst moments of her life, was too much for her to handle. A part of her may always love him, and she’ll hate that, but she can never forgive him. The thought that he believes they can find their way back to each other, that she can excuse what he did as though it doesn’t matter… she feels small, worthless, all of the bad creeping back in. 

He walks away first, going after the others, but she takes a moment in an attempt to compose herself and bottle up all the emotions once again so she can just focus on why she’s here and not on her heart being slowly ripped to shreds. 

“Are you coming, Swan?” she hears, and she looks up to see Hook standing a few feet away. His whole body is hesitant, poised to run if she tells him to leave. But she doesn’t say anything. She still can’t find words. 

I’ll never stop fighting for you. I’ll never stop fighting for you. It plays over and over in her head and she wants to scream. The thought of him being there, of Neal being around all the time, trying to worm his way back into her life and her heart -

“I’m sorry,” Hook says then and her eyes snap up to his. She frowns. Why is he sorry? “If my confession made things awkward for you and Balefire, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention. I heard you speaking just now and -” she wants to laugh. She almost does laugh. 

“I told him I wished he was dead.”

“You what?” 

“In the caves. I told him I wished he was dead, that having him in my life hurt too much, that I couldn’t take it. And he took that as an invitation to try to worm his way back in. And Mary Margaret, my mom, wants me to let him. She’s all about forgiveness,” she practically spits. “But if she knew what he did, if she knew…” She’d probably say the same thing, Emma realises with a twist in her stomach. 

“What do you want?” Killian asks then, taking a step forward and then another, closing the distance between them. He’s still hesitant, still not turned towards her, but his head ducks down, trying to catch her eye and she does let out a laugh this time. Bitter and hopeless. She doesn’t even know what she wants. She can’t remember the last time someone asked her that. She just wants it all to stop, the barrage of memories, old and fresh wounds opening up again leaving her raw and exposed and vulnerable. She just wants it all to stop. 

She shouldn’t. Not after his confession, not when he might think it means more than it does. But she reaches for him, taking his face in both her hands and pulling him to her, slanting her mouth over his, invading his mouth with her tongue, desperate for that release she’s come to associate with him. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, both arms wrapping around her waist, tightening and pulling her closer as he groans into her mouth. This, this is what she wants. His lips devour her, tongue delving deep and demanding as his hand traces her side where she isn’t wedged against him. His fingers trail over her breast, her waist, her hip and her thigh, his arm dragging her hips against his own as he rolls them against her, the hard ridge of him pressing against her center through all their clothes and making her gasp. 

He bites her lip, soothing it with his tongue before doing the same to her chin and her jaw and her neck and her shoulder, never stopping the steady grind of his cock against the seam of her jeans. She’s lost in the ache and the passion and the pleasure. Fucking hell, how he can make her feel this good with all their clothes on is beyond her, but if he stops, she might kill him. 

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice cuts through the quiet and she wants to cry as Hook jumps back from her before her mother can emerge from the dense forest. She looks between the two of them, Hook with his back to her, his hand crossed over and resting on the hilt of his sword as he says something about them having thought they heard lost boys lurking in the jungle. She helps them do a sweep but decides they’re safe and they head back to the camp. She can feel him watching her the whole way back. 

 ***

 They almost die. Both of them. Over a fucking lighter. 

Okay, she knows it’s not about the lighter, but the fact that they let anything get between them, let anything risk their lives, risk Henry’s life… she’s furious. She hangs on to it, grabs hold of her anger with both hands and doesn’t let go because if she does she knows what will creep in. The fear. The fear that gripped her when she saw Killian at the shadow’s mercy. 

She tells herself it was hatred and anger at Pan that made her find her magic. But she knows that’s a lie. It was him. The thought that she would lose him. She couldn’t lose him. Not after what he said. When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery. It’ll be because you want me. 

Even now, remembering his promise sends her heart racing and her blood rushing through her veins and she wants. She’d almost kissed him then, almost let him in, almost let herself believe that maybe there was a possibility… 

And then he went and almost got himself killed and she remembered again, remembered that she couldn’t let herself want him because everyone she’s ever cared about has left her, hurt her, abandoned her. Why would he be any different? 

The whole way back to camp, Neal won’t even look at her. It takes her a moment to realise why. Because of her magic. He hates it, is disgusted by it. She heard it in his voice when he asked if Regina was teaching her and it hurts to hear him disparage it, to hear him fear it. 

But then, suddenly, they’re arguing again and she snaps. Her mother warned her about the dangers of both of them having feelings for her. She just hadn’t thought this was what she’d meant. She knew that Mary Margaret wanted her to choose Neal, to reunite her family, and she worried that Hook might not react well. But she’d never imagined the risk they would put themselves in. Both of them. She can’t choose either of them, no matter that they’ve both asked her to. It’s too dangerous. 

Enough. It's enough. She can’t take it. They already almost died and now they’re at it again. So she tells them like it is. She doesn’t have room for either of them in her life. Not for Neal’s persistence or Hook’s heartfelt confessions. She can’t. Not now. She needs to focus on Henry, on saving him and she can’t do that if she’s spending her time thinking about them. She sees the acceptance on Hook’s face. She can’t do that if she has to watch him die. It would break her. 

When she thought Neal was dead, it had been a relief. All that pain had finally managed to leave her after over a decade. But when she saw Hook pinned against that tree, saw the life being ripped right out of him, god, it might as well have been her own shadow being ripped out. 

She shuts her eyes as she walks away, trying to block the image of him screaming, of him begging her to go, from her mind. But it won’t go away. It just stays there, playing over and over well into the night as she tosses and turns on her mat. Neal has placed his own right next to hers, closer than she’d like. She’d seen her mother smile when he did it. 

Regina’s on watch duty tonight and Emma sighs as she sits up, unable to sleep but glad for the other woman’s indifference to her troubles. Neal sleeps soundly, the sound of his breathing distracting. How can he sleep so peacefully while she continues to grow more and more distressed, continues to break at his hands? It’s not fair. She needs to get away. She needs to just… she glances over at where Hook lays a more respectable distance away. 

She can tell he’s awake. His head turns to look at her after a moment and she meets his eyes. He almost died today. At least he has the good sense to look ashamed. She hates how much she wants to crawl across the space between them, feel his heartbeat under her hand, reassure herself that he’s really okay, let him wrap himself around her and hold her until the dread finally leaves her. She wants to let him take everything away with his body against hers, make her forget everything the way she knows he can do so well. 

But they’re in the middle of the camp with eyes everywhere, so she can’t. Instead, she has to stew in it. In her fear for Henry, in her anxiety over nearly losing two people she cares about today, in her growing shame over her magic, both her possession of it and her failure to control it. At what he said. At what Hook said and how much it made her want, how much it reminded her that she can’t have the things she wants. 

She can’t breathe. Right now, literally feeling like she’s trapped between the two of them, between two paths to inevitable heartbreak, she can’t breathe. She just needs to get away. She stands, storming past Hook and Regina into the thick canopy of trees. It’s not until she’s several hundred feet away that she finally feels like she can take a breath again. 

Emma only realises what a stupid thing she’s done when she hears a rustling behind her. She reaches for her sword but it’s not there and panic seeps through her as she realises she left it next to her mat. But before she can look for a place to hide, a figure emerges from the dark and she lets out a breath. Hook. 

“Apologies,” he says when he spots her, sees what must be the obvious distress on her face. “I saw you left your cutlass behind. It’s not safe to be alone in this jungle. Especially unarmed,” he warns her, just this side of chastising. She rolls her eyes but sees that he’s holding her blade in his hand and appreciates that he’s brought it to her. 

“Thanks,” she says sincerely as she takes it from him.  

He nods, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. “I don’t know what’s troubling you, Emma,” he tells her, and her eyes snap to his at the sound of her name falling from his lips. “But I can’t bring myself to leave you alone out here. I’ll step away,” he promises, gesturing back towards the thick brush. “But I won’t stray far should you need help.”

She wants to roll her eyes. He’s seriously going to go stand somewhere where she can’t see him, ten feet away so she can have her breakdown privately while still protecting her? Why the fuck would he do that? Because he cares about you. He nods again, taking her silence as permission and stepping back to leave her be, but she stops him.

“Do you have your flask with you?” she asks.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves it. “Shall I leave it with you?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to go, Hook,” she says and he looks wary. “I’m over it. I just… had a moment.” 

“Hmm,” he agrees. “Neverland will do that to you.” 

She scoffs, glaring at him, pissed off now. “It wasn’t Neverland that did it to me,” she snaps and he frowns. “It was you. You and Neal and your stupid fight. Both of you, risking your life like idiots, like children!” He looks taken aback, searching for words as shame washes over his features again.

“Swan, I’m sorry. We -”

“Did you even mean what you said?” she demands then and he frowns in confusion. 

“What I said?” 

“All of it. About winning my heart, about moving on from Milah, about wanting me to choose you. All of it.” 

His face grows serious then. “Yes.” 

“Then how the hell could you do that? How can you make promises that imply you sticking around and then just be so goddamn callous with your life?”

“I’m sorry, love, I -”

“Stop apologizing!” she barks. His head snaps back like she slapped him and she stands there, panting and glaring at him. He studies her for a moment then steps forward. 

“No.”

“No?” she demands incredulously.

“No. You’re right. It was reckless and stupid and childish. I know how much you’ve lost and I’m sorry if I made you fear losing more. Whatever this is, Emma,” he says, using her name again as he gestures between them, “whatever it is you do or don’t want from me, I meant what I said in Echo Cave. I meant what I said to you today. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you send me away. And I’m sorry if I made you doubt my intentions.” 

“Stop,” she says, unable to hear more. Every word he says makes her hope and every moment she hopes is another moment closer to heartbreak. She can’t let herself care for him. She can’t let herself fall for him. What chance do they have? Her parents would fight her every step of the way, Neal would fight her. And he’ll leave. Just like everyone leaves. Everyone always leaves. 

“Swan,” he says, stepping towards her again. His hand comes up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheek as he tilts her chin up to face him. 

“Don’t,” she warns again, tears burning her eyes now.

“Is that so hard for you to believe? That someone would want to stay? That I-”

“Stop,” she says again, giving him no choice this time, pulling him to her and stealing whatever words might have fallen from his lips with her own.

She kisses him until a small groan rumbles deep in his throat, reverberating through her and sending tremors of desire coursing through every inch of her body. She can’t let him in. She can’t let him say whatever it was he was going to say. But this, this she can do. She needs this, him. Nothing else calms and excites her all at once like this. Nothing else stops everything like this. 

His hand leaves her cheek, tangling in her hair, fisting in it and tugging as he opens her mouth under his. Her hands leave his face, sliding down his neck to his chest to the clasps of his vest. He breaks apart from her as she undoes the first one, looking down at her hands and then back at her with heavy lidded eyes. There’s a question there, a request or a plea. 

She answers by undoing the next clasp and he drags her back to him, tongue delving, seeking, teeth nipping at her lips as he guides her backwards until her back collides softly but urgently with a tree. By then she has his vest undone and she pushes it off, shoving his jacket down with it where it falls heavily onto the jungle floor. 

She finds his shirt next, not bothering with the few buttons as she pulls it from his pants and lifts the shirt over his head. He releases her long enough to lift his arms and help her to pull it free from his hook. She traces her fingers along his forearms, marveling at the sinewy muscles and dark hair under her hands, hesitating a moment over his tattoo. 

She follows the path to his biceps, to his shoulders, tracing the intricacies of his brace on one side, and the defined shape of his obvious strength on the other. She realises she’s never seen his arms before. His chest is always on full display but the rest of him is always covered head to toe in leather, in armour. She traces along his sides next, over his ribs where she notices another tattoo: ‘Liam’ written out in small, elegant script. 

She looks at him, so much of him on display beneath her hands. He’s so goddamn beautiful and it sends an ache tugging low in her belly. As she draws her gaze up his neck and jaw to his face, she finds him watching her, something curious and tender beneath the desire. She kisses him again so she doesn’t have to see it. This isn’t what this is. 

He takes the hint, hook snaking into her belt loop to pull her hips firmly against his as his hot and calloused hand slides up under her shirt, over her stomach to her breast. She keens when he presses his palm against her, dragging over her slowly, filling his hand before his fingers find her nipple through her bra. 

She pushes him back a little, almost smirking at his surprised expression before pulling her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to undo her bra and let it fall somewhere at her feet. She reaches for him but he steps back, eyes raking over her slowly and intently and goosebumps raise everywhere that his eyes burn over her. 

“Bloody hell,” he breathes. 

“You gonna do something about it?” she challenges, and then he’s on her, lips attacking her neck, causing her to cry out as he sucks a mark into the hollow of her collarbone, dragging his tongue down her chest to her breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling it under his tongue and his teeth and she fists her hand in his hair so tight that she thinks it might hurt. His strangled moan makes her think he doesn’t care. 

He moves to her neglected breast, giving it the same treatment before nipping and licking and sucking his way down her ribs and her stomach to her navel and to the waist of her jeans as he kneels before her. He doesn’t ask for permission this time, the way she pushes her hips against him clear enough as he makes quick work of them, sliding them down her legs and pulling them off along with her boots. 

He looks up at her, toying idly with the waist of her panties, and it’s the hottest fucking thing she’s ever seen. Killian Jones, Captain Hook, shirtless with his hair a mess, kneeling between her legs and watching her like he wants to devour her. Then he smirks, eyebrow twitching up as he leans forward, holding her gaze as he presses an open mouthed kiss to her covered clit. Nevermind, that’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen. 

“Killian,” she begs, shocking them both as his name falls from her lips. Something flashes in his eyes then and suddenly he’s yanking the fabric off of her and pulling her leg over his shoulder. Fuck. Fuck yes, is all she can think. But… “We don’t have time,” she tells him, knowing that the others could wake up at any moment, that Pan or a lost boy could stumble upon them. 

He glances up at her with a smile that she can only describe as devilish. “There is always time, Swan,” he insists. Before she can protest or agree, his tongue is dragging through her folds, licking her slowly until he reaches her clit and pulls it into his mouth. 

“Fuck!” she practically yells, head falling back as she fists her hands in his hair. She can feel him smirking against her but she doesn’t care because his tongue is flicking against her clit now, slowly, meticulously, and then quicker as she starts to roll her hips against his talented mouth. 

He alternates flicking his tongue against her and sucking on her sensitive bundle as his fingers find her opening and push in roughly, pumping into her hard and fast. One of her hands finds his shoulder, steading herself against him, nails digging into his flesh, and he drives her to her climax so goddamn fast that she barely registers she’s almost there until she’s right at the brink. 

She’s gasping, muttering incoherent yeses and pleas, when he suddenly pulls away and stands and she wants to scream. But before she can, he’s freeing himself from his leathers and pulling her knee up over his hip, sliding into her easily despite his impressive size. 

Her fingers link behind his neck, her head thrown back against the bark behind her as he thrusts up into her purposefully, each stroke powerful and just the right side of rough. She’s forced to stand on her toes, foot nearly lifted off the ground as he drives into her, but she doesn’t want him to stop. Fuck, she’s never going to be able to stop. Not now that she knows this is what it’s like to be with him. 

His head falls to her shoulder, lips and teeth finding her neck as he moves faster and she knows he’s close, can hear it in the desperate sounds he’s breathing against her skin. She’s nearly there, she just needs… He pulls her thigh higher over his hip, hand finding her ass and pressing her closer until he’s grinding against her clit with every push inside of her and that’s it. 

Her back arches and her head falls back as she screams out her climax into the quiet of the jungle. He looks up at her, watching her fall apart, brows pinched in blissful anguish as he sets a breakneck pace, seeking his own release. She fists her hands into his hair, tugging and watching as his face becomes almost pained before she captures his lips with hers, biting at his lips, sucking at his tongue until she swallows his moan as it reverberates through her chest and he goes rigid. 

She can feel him finishing hot inside her and it sends another little quiver of pleasure through her, her muscles contracting around him and he groans, sliding his tongue into her mouth and seeking her own. 

They stay there, pressed against the tree, panting into each other’s mouths, seeking whatever they can find in one another until the sweat begins to cool on her body and a shiver runs through her, bringing her back to reality. He seems to sense the change because he’s the one to break the kiss first.

She just looks at him, unable to process any of her thoughts. She doesn’t know what this means. She doesn’t know what she wants it to mean. The thought that it could mean anything at all is terrifying to her. But a part of her knows she’ll find herself here again. But this is all it can be. 

She can’t risk it. Can’t risk him. She’s damaged goods and she’ll hurt him or he’ll hurt her because… she cares. Fuck. She cares. There’s nothing more dangerous or terrifying to her than getting her heart involved. If she has to choose - and she does have to choose - the one where her heart isn’t on the line is the only safe option. 

Neal could never break her heart. Not again. She’d have to be able to give it to him first for that. 

She tenses in his arms, hands sliding from his shoulders to curl into her chest and she tries to make some room between them. She can’t look at him but it’s like he can read her mind, his eyes casting over her face as she makes her decision. Open book he’s always said.

He lets out a soft sigh of a laugh, self-deprecating and accepting as he slides out of her and pulls back, allowing her room to dress as he pulls his pants back up his hips. She knows he thinks she regrets it. She wishes she could tell him she doesn’t. But she can’t give him hope. And he wouldn’t believe her if she did, not while she’s practically recoiling from his touch. 

“So you’ve made your choice then?” he asks, but it’s not really a question.

“Killian…” 

“Don’t call me that,” he says, shaking his head and it feels like a knife twisting in her heart. 

“I-” 

“You don’t have to explain, Swan,” he says. “He’s Henry’s father. He’s a better man.” 

She wants to scream at him, tell him that he’s wrong, but that would mean facing whatever it is that’s happened between them, whatever it was that started on that beanstalk and led them here, and she can’t do that. 

He watches her for another moment, the pain and the self-loathing written all over his face before he slides his mask of indifference right back up and it hurts to see. It's the one he wore in New York and in Storybrooke after she betrayed him. She supposes this isn’t much different. 

He gathers the rest of his clothes, nodding at her once before heading off into the jungle. “Don’t stay out here alone,” he says over his shoulder, and a tear runs hot down her cheek. He may hate her right now, but he’s still watching out for her. 

 ***

 They defeat Pan. They save Henry. She still can’t believe it. But they’re sailing back to Storybrooke and her son is sleeping soundly down below in Killian’s cabin. She frowns. She wonders when she started thinking of him as Killian. Probably when you realised how you felt about him, probably right before you broke his heart. 

She’s staring out at the sky below them, leaning on the railing and she lets her head fall over her arms. When did everything get so complicated? She feels so lost. She wishes she had someone to help her, someone to guide her. She wishes she had Mary Margaret, her friend, but that woman is gone. In her place is Snow White, her mother. Someone who should understand her but doesn’t. 

It’s Snow who finds her, places a comforting hand on her shoulder and gives her a supportive smile when she looks up. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. Emma shakes her head, too tired to lie, and her mom gives her a sad look. “Emma…” she starts, and she braces herself for whatever speech is about to come. “I know that love can be scary. And after all you’ve been through, I don’t blame you for being afraid of it. That’s my fault,” she says and Emma wants to say no - well, yes, but not just her fault. 

“But if you think that everyone that cares about you and who you let yourself care about is going to hurt you, if you don’t let yourself try and open up to the possibility… you might keep out pain, but you’ll also keep out love,” she finishes, parroting her words from so long ago and for a moment, Emma feels like she has her friend back, like Mary Margaret understands her. 

“You owe it to yourself to give Neal a chance,” she says, and it’s like a bucket of ice water falling over her. “I know what you said, about it being easier to forget about the pain and to move on with him out of your life. But he’s your first love; he’s Henry’s father. Don’t you think he deserves a second chance? Don’t you think Henry does, that you do?” 

Tears well in Emma’s eyes and her mother misreads them, assuming she’s hit the mark. She couldn’t be more wrong. But she’s right. Choosing Neal is easier. It's what everyone wants. It’s what everyone expects. It's the easiest way to make everyone she cares about happy. Even if it’s at the cost of her own happiness. Of Killian’s happiness. Her heart burns in her chest.

She wonders where Killian is. They’ve barely spoken since their moment in the jungle. He hadn’t been cruel or even angry, of course he hadn’t. But he’d been distant, keeping himself at arms length. She understands that, self-preservation and all. She’s been doing the same. She hears footsteps and looks up to see Neal walking towards them. Mary Margaret gives her an encouraging smile before disappearing below deck. 

Neal leans against the railing next to her. “We did it,” he says, a big, satisfied smile on his face. “We got our kid back. We got our family back,” he says and the word is loaded. 

“Yeah,” she nods, forces a smile. Neal could never tell the difference between her real ones and her fake ones. “We did.” 

He nudges her shoulder with his and she laughs. They did get their son back. That’s the silver lining to this. That’s what she should be focused on. “Emma, listen,” he says then. “I meant what I said. I’ll never stop fighting for you.” His words twist in her gut but she doesn’t let it show. “And now that everyone’s okay, that it’s all over and everything is behind us… maybe we could try again.” Everything is behind us. Just like that he’s wiping his slate clean of any wrongs he’s done her. 

“Neal, I-” 

“I know I hurt you, Emma. But I had to. You know I did. And we have Henry to think about too. Do you think there’s anything he’d want more than for his parents to get back together? Don’t you think we ought to try? For him?” Her fist clenches against the railing but he takes it in his. “I’m just asking for a chance, Ems.” 

She considers him, thinks of Henry. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.” 

He beams, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it, then, before she even knows what’s happening, he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. It’s familiar, slow and practiced and it brings a slew of painful memories rushing back to the surface. He pulls back with a pleased smile and she forces one back. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” he asks and she nods. As she watches him walk away, she knows one thing for sure. There’s definitely no risk with Neal. He could never break her heart. She could never give it to him. 

She brings her fingers to her lips, still feeling his kiss and his scruff burning against her chin and it just feels… wrong. It leaves an ache in her, an emptiness and a need, a craving for something else and her whole body hums with it, burns with it. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. She needs to make it right, to set it right. 

She walks almost blindly through the ship's lower deck, making her way past the crew’s quarters where everyone sleeps, past the captain’s cabin where Regina is watching over a sleeping Henry, past the galley and the storage and every other room she doesn’t recognize until she reaches the back, the bosun’s quarters where she knows she’ll find him. 

She pushes the door open, not bothering to knock and he sits up where he was lounging on the narrow mattress, book balanced on his knee. He’s discarded his coat and his vest, his suspenders hanging at his sides. “Swan?” he asks, a frown marrying his brow. “What’s wrong?” 

She doesn’t speak. She just crosses the room to the bed, shoving the book out of his hands and climbing over him, straddling his hips as she pulls his lips to hers, hands finding his shoulders as she uses his shock to push him back against the pillows. 

“Swan,” he breathes against her mouth. “What are you -” She stops his words with her lips again, sliding her tongue into his mouth until she can pull that groan that she loves so much from his chest. “Emma,” he tries again, weaker this time and a little desperate. 

She shakes her head, kissing him again, biting his lip, pulling at it, teasing him with her tongue until he breaks, sitting up and kissing her back, taking control as he tilts her head this way and that, arm sliding around her hips to set her more firmly in his lap. Yes. This is what she needed. The press of his lips, the scratch of his stubble, it feels right. And she knows she can’t have it, not really, but she can have tonight. She can have one last night. 

She feels him stirring beneath her and she grinds her hips down over his to encourage him. It works, his lips dropping to her neck, sliding her shirt easily over her head and taking her breast in his mouth like he already knows she likes. God, he’s perfect. Perfect in that he’s not. In that he knows he’s not. That he doesn’t pretend to be. He knows her. He understands her. And she knows she’s going to break his heart. 

She stops him as his hand begins to trail down to her jeans, pushing against his shoulders until he lays back. She pulls his shirt open, not caring about the few buttons that she sends flying across the floor as her lips latch onto his neck, desperately trying to find the spots that make him let out those sounds she can’t get enough of. 

When he’s practically writhing beneath her, she trails kisses down the center of his chest, glancing up at him as he watches her, her lips teasing their way down to the waist of his pants where he’s already straining against the laces. She can see the head of his cock just peeking out and she draws her tongue over him. He hisses, hips pressing up involuntarily towards her. 

She makes quick work of his laces, shoving his pants far enough down his hips that she can free him from them and take him in hand. He gasps out her name and it spurs her on, knowing how much he wants her. She’s glad when he doesn’t protest, only watches her as she drags her tongue slowly up the length of him before taking him fully into her mouth. 

His back arches, his hook reaching up to find purchase on the headboard as his hand tangles in her hair. The sounds he makes as she works him with her lips and tongue send heat straight to her core, making her slick and desperate as she tries to rub her thighs together and find some relief. He lets out a litany of sighs and moans and words, both praise and filth as she drives him towards his release. 

Before she can, he uses his hold on her hair to pull her off of him, to slide her back up his body to face him where he looks at her like he can’t quite believe she’s real. He reaches for her pants, undoing them and pushing them down her hips. She rolls onto her back beside him so that she can work them off and his mouth finds her breast, tongue pulling at her already hardened nipple and making her gasp. 

As soon as she’s free of her jeans, she rolls back on top of him, taking his cock in hand and sinking down onto him. They both hold still for a moment, adjusting to the feel of him inside her, to how fucking perfectly he fits. Fuck, she’s going to miss this. 

He lets out another moan as she starts to ride him, head falling back against the pillows. She’s never seen him quite like this, so lost in his bliss, so out of control, and god it makes her want him even more. She braces herself on his shoulders, moving over him faster, hips snapping against his, and he looks at her like she might just destroy him.

His hand grabs hold of her hip, pulling her down harder against him as his own hips lift up to meet her with every thrust. She can’t believe how close she is. He’s barely touched her. But with every roll of her hips over his, every time she feels him fill her up again and again, she feels like she’s on fire and she just wants to keep burning. 

“Fuck, Emma,” he curses, his brow pinched tight, the chords of his neck stretched taunt. “Emma I’m going to -” he tries to warn her but she only rides him harder, desperate to get him there first. Her nails dig into his chest as she tries to hold off as long as she can and she sees the moment he breaks. It’s the most fucking amazing thing she’s ever seen and it sends her over the edge, collapsing over top of him as they both struggle to catch their breath. 

His fingers trail over her spine, his head tilting down to kiss the skin of her shoulder, turning to press another to her temple. God, she wants to just stay here with him, to let him keep tracing patterns over her back, to let him keep kissing whatever parts of her he can reach, to let him just hold her here as long as she needs. But that’s exactly why she can’t. 

“Emma,” he says softly, a little hopefully and she rises, getting off of him and standing, pulling her jeans and shirt back on, not bothering to look for her underwear because that would take too long. “Emma,” he says again and she makes herself look at him, makes herself face the hurt she’s causing him. It’s better this way. They’ll only hurt each other in the long run if they keep this up. “So, it’s still Neal then,” he says finally. 

She nods. “It has to be.” 

“And this was what?” he asks, an edge of anger in his voice. “Goodbye? One last fuck with the pirate before you go back to the man you’re making yourself choose? The one you’re settling for?” 

Tears burn her eyes. “Killian...” 

“I told you not to call me that,” he says, bitterness in his tone. “It’s Hook you want.” But he’s wrong, and that’s exactly the problem. It is Killian she wants, the man he might be, the man he is, the man she wants too much to trust herself with. 

“Goodbye,” she says, backing away towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

***

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @yasbio2015 @the-darkdragonfly @klynn-stormz

[snowbellewells]

Once upon a time for the ask game thingy hehe

Okay, both you @itsfabianadocarmo and @cosette141 asked for my answers on this for OuaT, so here goes!!! 😜

Fandom Ask Game

Send me a movie/book/show and I'll tell you:

favorite character: I mean, the obvious answer here is Killian Jones. And, believe me, I do love our pirate hero very, very much. But my true favorite character of the entire show (hopefully no one throws me out of the CS fandom for this) is Sheriff Graham/the Huntsman. I just adored him from the first time we met him. My heart still breaks for him. And I am always going to think he deserved better (and we deserved more of him!)

least favorite character: Probably either Cora/the Queen of Hearts or Gothel/Eloise Gardiner in Season 7

brOTP: I do really enjoy some Captain Charming - they have such a fun bros and family both connection! - but my heart really belongs to Killian and Belle. Captain Book/Captain Beauty, whichever you want to call it is such a lovely friendship. I treasure every teeny little scene of it we got to see. There’s something so redemptive and wonderful in them overcoming their past animosity and becoming friends, and I absolutely adore them bonding and having each other’s backs! 💖

OTP: It’s Captain Swan, absolutely, all the way, they’ve really taken over most of my imagination and free time! 😅 (In all fairness, I did at the start think Gremma, or HuntSwan, could be my True Love OTP, but the show very literally killed that possibility. And of course, we then met a certain dashing rapscallion who managed to win Emma’s heart… 😏)

OT3: This isn’t really a category I give lots of thought. I have read some amazing fic though with Liam/Killian/Emma as an OT3. The one that I’d call my favorite though is what I’ve sometimes seen called Irish Swan Trio: Killian/Graham/Emma. (That I would happily read more of, if it was more commonly written. 🤭)

NOTP: I have (very rarely, thankfully) stumbled upon mostly modern au fics that have Regina and Graham hooking up, or friends with benefits, or friendly exes. I absolutely cannot handle that; it is so far from what that situation truly was and it’s just upsetting to his memory. I’m also not at all a fan or HookedQueen or SwanQueen. Neither of those make much sense to me, nor does Regina even seem to like either of them much or treat them at all well. Why would they be in a relationship?

favorite storyline: It’s probably, honestly, season one. Where we first see Emma coming to Storybrooke, getting to know her son, discovering magic and fairytales are real, figuring out who all the townspeople were in the storybook, all of that. The magic is so enchanting in that first season, and it seems the most tightly well-written to me. I often say the first season’s only real flaws are Graham’s death and Killian not being there yet!

If that’s too huge a chunk to be a favorite storyline, then I’d probably say the Save Henry trip to Neverland.

least favorite storyline: I am not a fan of the second half of Season 2. It gets all convoluted and disjointed to me, and Greg and Tamara were so pointless and annoying. I don’t know if that’s so much a storyline as a least favorite segment because there doesn’t seem to be as clear a storyline, but there you are all the same. 🤷🏼‍♀️

what I wish had happened but didn't: I’m never going to stop wishing that Emma and Killian had gotten a rainbow blast True Love’s Kiss like all the other True Love couples. I know their True Love was proven in another way, but still, come on!!! 🤨

Even more than that though, I wish

1) that Emma and Killian would have had a secret small, private wedding in the Underworld with Liam performing it so he could be there, which would be an excellent callback to Snow and Charming’s first private wedding performed by Lancelot so Charming’s mother could be there.

And 2) that when we learned about the meanings behind the gravestones in the Underworld they would have gone and found Graham’s and at least learned that he had passed on and was at peace.

**Maybe I should have mentioned 5b as a not-so-favored storyline - so much potential wasted!

what happened that I wish hadn't: I would have loved them to do so much more with Jekyll and Hyde (and Jafar, for that matter) rather than split Queenie and the Black Fairy in Season 6 😝 I also would not have had Ruby run off with Dorothy.

[karlyfr13s]

Helping Destiny Along

A fluffy CS one-shot for the lovely @teamhook

Thank you @veryverynotgoodwrites for being one heck of a beta, and @the-darkdragonfly for your brainstorming powers!

Summary: Henry Mills has a theory: for each Captain Hook, there must be an Emma Swan. Well, he found Princess Emma Nolan at long last and is determined to bring her together with Killian Jones now that he's back in the Wishverse version of the Enchanted Forest.

Read it on AO3

At nineteen, Princess Emma Nolan believed in True Love. After all, her parents had found each other, and everyone knew theirs was a legendary love worthy of poetry and song. She watched for a prince from the high windows of her tower bedroom, waiting for someone tall, dark, and handsome to sweep her off her feet. He would be bold, romantic, dashing, and kind-hearted—she just knew it.

At twenty-two, she concluded that such a love was rare and that her parents may be the only two people with a Capital-T, Capital-L True Love, so she started looking for the more run-of-the-mill variety. Instead of waiting for someone to ride up to the castle gate and court her, she took a more active approach and sought her love by traveling and meeting new people. When that didn’t work either, Princess Emma tried for mutual attraction, which was fun at twenty-four, but grew stale by twenty-five. So she resigned herself to loving her kingdom and her people.

At twenty-eight, a man knocked on the door and utterly transformed her life. To be clear, she did not love that particular man. Henry came from a faraway land and told her fantastic tales that seemed beyond the reach of even her magic, and while she did not love him, he told her somewhere out there in a world beyond her grasp there was an Emma Swan who was his mother, and who loved him ferociously. For days, she and her parents welcomed Henry to stay in their home and share meals at their table, and for days he regaled them with stories of his world and of other versions of each member of the Nolan family. They were spellbound by his narratives. He was a gifted storyteller, and as if he’d known this was too fantastic to be believed, he came with something called photographs that showed a still window into his world. She saw a version of her mother, Queen Snow, but much younger and with close-cropped dark hair instead of the silvery tresses she was accustomed to. Her father was another surprise--he looked barely older than Emma herself, sandy hair where now there was gray, and while she knew her father was still a strong and capable swordsman, this version of King David seemed able to challenge even the mightiest ogre.

Princess Emma Nolan even saw herself, but not herself. They looked identical, she and Henry’s mother, and while her style was different from this unknown twin’s, she couldn’t help but notice some similarities. Emma Swan was often pictured in a short red leather coat, while Princess Emma Nolan’s favorite doublet was a rich blue leather. When she commented, Henry told her they both wore them like armor, gesturing to the bruise on his shoulder from their earlier sparring session in the yard. Emma Swan liked to pull her hair back, wearing it high on her head much like Princess Emma Nolan when she wasn’t expected at court or in her regal finest. Henry even had a picture of his mother with a sword--is she trained as well? She’d asked, and Henry grinned at the question, answering with another tale of his mother besting a pirate in single combat!

“I’m pretty sure that fight was rigged though,” he admitted as they walked the castle gardens one afternoon. “And that’s part of why I’m here.” He stopped and faced her, saying he hoped she could believe one more outlandish story before he had to return to his world.

“You seem to come well-armed with evidence, Henry. I don’t see why I should doubt you at this point.”

“My mother, Emma Swan, is an incredible woman. It took her a long time, but she found her True Love, and I think you can find yours. When I learned there was a version of her--of you--here, I had to find out if you were with him too, and when you weren’t…” Henry trailed off, frowning at the ground. He was quiet for a long while, and Emma ran through his words over and over. Henry thought he knew who her True Love was? How? How could he know that his mother and whoever she was with were one another’s True Love?

“I know he’s here now--I’ve met him before, and back in my world--”

“What? Then how can he be my True Love if he’s from your world?” None of this was making sense, and for the first time she doubted Henry. It seemed he could see the uncertainty within her, and he steered them to a bench to sit and talk as he clarified this man was not from his world, but had been brought there by a curse. The same curse that separated Henry from his own family.

“I know you understand curses and magic,” he began and she nodded at his words. “So when I tell you he was swept up in a curse and brought back in time to my world, that should make sense, right?” She nodded again, wondering who could have cursed two men from different worlds at the same time. Someone powerful and dangerous. Henry sighed and continued. “His name is Killian Jones, and he’s the best man I know. He’s my father in every sense of the word, and while there’s a version of him who is my mother’s True Love, I know there is one who is also yours. He has to be.”

Henry told her a lengthy story about a witch who ensnared a group of people from this kingdom, trapping them in a place called Hyperion Heights. He spoke of a coven leader who cursed Killian Jones so he could never be in contact with his daughter—a child she had abandoned him with after tricking him into spending a night with her. “But you see, Emma, you can break that curse. Your love--yours and Killian’s will break that curse. You will have each other and Alice--hell, and Robin! I haven’t even told you about Robin,” he was lost in thought again after that. Emma waited and tried to make sense of all she had learned.

Is it possible? In some way, his tale made sense. If what he said about the curse was true, it would explain The Gap. Emma had never mentioned The Gap to Henry, though he may have learnt of it through other means. It was rarely spoken of, but everyone in the Enchanted Forest shared one simple truth: there was a block of time no one could account for. Whenever Emma or her parents tried to focus on that space, thinking back to her twenty-sixth birthday, there was a strange void where there should be at least some memory of the year. She could remember the celebratory ball and the night of her birthday, but every time she tried to focus on what came next it only earned her a persistent headache.

“Please don’t hate me, Emma,” Henry put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. “I told him to meet me here three days after I arrived. That’s tonight. He’ll be here, and he knows what I believe about you two because he also knows my mother and her Killian. He’s, uh...not entirely convinced. He’s been through a lot, but…” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile.

“It’s his story to tell, so I won’t go into detail, just...go easy on the guy. He might be a little gun shy—uh, guarded,” he quickly clarified when he saw her blink in confusion. “I don’t think he’s seen anyone since that witch who duped him, led the coven, and tried to destroy Hyperion Heights. Think that might do a number on a guy.” He looked so sincere, so much like he did when telling all his other tales that Emma chose to believe. Henry hadn’t lied to her before, so what would the motivation be to do so now?

She chewed at her lip, fretting over what to do and how to greet someone who might be a part of her very soul--someone who had been through tricks and curses, and had suffered real loss. She couldn’t simply turn him out in the night, that was unthinkable, but what do you say to the other half of your heart? If that is what he is. This had to have been simpler for her mother. At least she’d simply caught her father in a net after robbing him. That seemed easier than calmly welcoming fate to dinner and introducing the man to your parents on day one.

“Well,” she got up and dusted off her breeches, “I suppose we’d best let my parents know we’re expecting another guest. And I may need to change as well. I think I’d rather not smell worse than the stables when I meet him.” Emma faltered on the last word, not knowing how to address Killian Jones. Henry smiled and followed her lead.

-----

One thorough and contemplative bath later, Emma emerged in a blush pink gown that shimmered softly in the waning sunlight. It had taken her three other dresses before she settled on this one. It was simpler than what she wore to galas and State events: tea length and embroidered in sheer flowers. She knew it would glow softly under the lights of the candles and torches at dinner, and Princess Emma Nolan found herself hoping he would like it.

When he arrived, it was Henry who greeted Killian Jones first, clasping the man’s hand and giving Emma a moment to simply observe. His smile was warm, a bright white flash of teeth and Emma noticed the slight creases at his eyes as well. An authentic smile, she noted, enjoying the genuine moment between the two men. He was dashing there was no other word for it--dressed in black and rich crimson, rings and charms gleaming in the firelight, their glimmer echoed in the silver strands that threaded here and there through his otherwise coal-black hair. Where his left hand ought to be, Emma found instead a polished silver hook and she remembered whispered gossip of a pirate captain referred to only by the moniker Hook. Once a fearsome leader of a brutal band of thieves, he had all but vanished into lore years ago. She realized too late that she’d been staring, and cleared her throat softly before curtseying to cover the awkwardness. Henry took the moment to introduce them, “Captain Killian Jones, may I present Emma Nolan, Princess of Misthaven.”

She offered her hand and Killian took it up, placing a chaste kiss across her knuckles. His eyes met hers, their brilliant lapis blue making her breath catch in her throat. Regardless of the formality of their meeting and the fact Henry, her parents, and several serving staff looked on, she felt the pull immediately. From the moment her hand was in his, it felt right. She wanted to keep hold of him more than she’d wanted anything in her life, wanted to memorize the rough calluses formed by his years at sea, but she forced herself to maintain propriety and brought her hand back to her side. Emma reminded herself they did not know one another, to not get swept up in Henry’s notions without evaluating the truth of the situation. Though she saw in his gaze a strange flicker of recognition, a brief knitting of his brow that asked a silent question she could not interpret, she let the moment pass and returned to her expected duties.

Emma introduced him to her parents, watching her father’s scrutinizing gaze contrast with her mother’s brilliant smile. No doubt her father was riddling out Henry’s purpose in inviting this man to dinner, though she couldn’t fathom him guessing the truth. All through dinner, Emma could barely take her eyes off Killian. He shared a few stories from his days at sea, talking of far-off kingdoms and uninhabited islands, and Emma felt a longing take hold of her as he spun a tale of a snow-covered northern kingdom where they carved elaborate ice sculptures, held firelight festivals, and celebrated the beauty of winter rather than fearing its chill. His voice was low, its velvet warmth wrapping around her and pulling her from all sense of time. The evening passed quickly, and long before she was ready, Emma’s parents stood to signal the end of the affair.

“It’s far too late for you to make a return journey, Captain Jones,” Queen Snow spoke. “We welcome you to stay as a guest in our home. We will have a room made up for you at once and hope you will accompany us for breakfast in the morning.” At his thanks, the Queen turned to Emma, “Oh, and Emma, darling?”

“Yes, Mother?”

Emma approached and her mother drew her in for a close hug, whispering softly, “See to it that Captain Jones can find his way. Most of the staff have already retired and I’d hate for him to get lost in search of rest.” With that, the Queen turned and gently tugged her husband toward their own chambers, leaving Emma to escort their two guests.

She could hear her father grumbling about leaving Emma unchaperoned, but Snow’s voice echoed back, “David, she’s twenty-eight, not sixteen, she’ll be fine. Our daughter is perfectly capable--” Their voices were lost as they rounded a corner, and Emma suppressed a smile. It didn’t matter that she was a full grown woman, her father would always be protective of her.

When she turned around, Emma realized Henry had vanished. Someone seems to think himself a matchmaker, she mused and as her eyes fell upon the man who waited by the fireplace she could understand why Henry had made himself scarce. Deep breath, Emma. He’s simply a man like any other. If she tried very hard, she just might convince herself of that. Well, unless she stopped to listen to the way her heart raced when the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

“Did you want--that is,” she faltered and tripped over her tongue, coming to stand near him where he leaned against the back of a chair by the hearth. “I don’t know how long a trip you made today, and so…” Why was this so hard?

“I’m quite alright, Princess. Would it be terribly inappropriate of me to ask you to keep me company and perhaps share a drink?” She smiled in response, slipping a large book from a shelf over the mantle after pointing out where her father kept a set of glasses on a shelf nearby.

“He thinks I don’t know about this,” she opened the volume to reveal a bottle. “Rum he had imported from the south--is that acceptable, Captain?”

“Aye, that will do nicely. Bit of a pirate in you isn’t there, Princess? Pinching a man’s rum while he’s fast asleep.” They shared a conspiratorial grin as she poured and each took up a chair near the fire. “To what shall we toast, love?”

She hummed in thought, considering the man before her. The pull was still there like some invisible thread entwining the two of them and she hoped it wasn’t only she who felt it. “To new beginnings,” she offered, holding her glass aloft. He echoed the sentiment and crystal clinked as their eyes met over the rims of their glasses before both looked away shyly and took a sip. The warmth and spice slid down her throat, settling in her stomach and making her shiver. They were quiet for a time, simply sharing the space while they glanced at one another, eyes never quite meeting, nor acknowledging they were both performing the same dance.

“I take it dear Henry shared his theory with you?” Killian broke the silence, addressing the weight that had settled in the room. She confirmed he had shared that along with several other stories, asking if it were true he’d been swept away to a land without magic. “Aye, and for some time I had no memory of myself or this place. When the truth finally came back to me it was...difficult to deal with. Did he...mention Alice?” He swirled the rum in his glass, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“Yes, he also mentioned a curse is keeping you apart,” she reached across the small distance that separated them, hand resting on the brace that held his hook. “Killian—if I may call you Killian,” she felt herself flush at the informality and he nodded encouragingly. She said it once more, feeling the musical quality of it as she continued. “What kind of monster keeps a father from his daughter like that?”

His shoulders sagged as he said the story of Gothel was one for another day, that it was a story filled with dark shadows he dare not conjure without the sunlight to dispel them. “I only mention Alice because...well, given what Henry has told both of us I have been...” his brow furrowed as he searched for a word, and she leaned forward, absently running her hand over his sleeve and feeling where the firm leather of his brace ended and the warmth of his arm began. His gaze dropped to where her hand rested and she looked up, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Concerned,” he finished at last. “That is, I’d thought perhaps because I have a child with someone else, and because I am obviously older than you are, that you might feel...or not feel a certain…not that I think Henry is necessarily right…”

His words tapered off and she became very aware they were both leaning in now, the distance between them nearly closed. She could see the silver in his hair glinting in the firelight, the strands at his temples more greyed than the rest. Greedily, she took in all she could in this moment. The heat that radiated from where her hand still rested atop his arm, the scents of leather and petrichor that clung to him were so close she could nearly roll them on her tongue. When she searched his eyes she saw a lingering hurt, but behind that was what appeared to be cautious hope. Setting her glass aside, Emma brought her hand up, allowing herself to do what she’d been wanting to all evening and running her fingers through his hair. He held her gaze, eyes wide and uncertain and she realized his past hurts ran deep enough that he wouldn’t act on that hopeful glint she’d seen moments ago. She would have to be brave for both of them.

With a whisper of his name she closed what little distance remained between them. She’d intended a light brush of her lips, had simply wanted to know what may lie between them, but the moment their lips met Emma knew she would never be satisfied with so little. She poured herself into the moment, moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him tightly to her. He followed her lead, their kiss deepening as he tilted his head, the two of them moving as though they had done this a hundred times before. She heard her pulse pounding away in her head, felt his breath ghosting over her lips as they breathed into one another for a moment before he captured her lips again. Something shifted then, like the single beat of a massive heart, a shockwave rippled outward, though neither could be bothered to break this moment. Finally, the two pulled back, eyes searching one another.

“Was that?” Emma asked, not knowing how to complete the thought. Her parents had told her their story several times: the kiss that broke the curse. The kiss that radiated out from them in a burst of force and light. The kiss that sounded an awful lot like what she had just shared with Captain Killian Jones.

Killian rested his forehead against hers, breathing out slowly before replying in a soft voice, “Aye love, I think it may have been.” She asked how that was possible, neither naming it yet and both quaffing their rum before leaning back in their chairs. “Years ago,” he began, “I ran into a fortune teller on the docks. He told me I would find my happiness though it was presently locked away in a tall tower. So, when the time came and I found myself facing a witch and finding a woman locked away in a tower I had thought my moment had come. Instead, I found Gothel and her tricks. I brought a daughter into this world only to have her freedom snatched away by the cold-hearted woman who bore her.”

Emma watched him closely, he seemed far away and lost in another time. “Tonight,” he continued after several beats, “when I saw the westward tower of this castle I had to stifle my hope that perhaps after so long--what is that tower to you?” He leaned toward her suddenly, his sapphire eyes searching hers as though he could read the truth within them.

“My bedroom,” she admitted. “My parents thought it would keep me safe. With only one known entrance and exit, it was easy to post guards and easy to know who sought my attention. Of course, there is another exit, but no one other than me knows of it. I devised it when I was sixteen and desperately wanted a way out without the entourage of guards.”

He fell silent, his forehead creased in thought as he tapped a finger against the bow of his lips. The mantle clock’s rhythmic ticking was nearly deafening as Emma waited through each drawn out second. Mesmerized by the path he now traced along his bottom lip, her mind drifted back to the soft press of his mouth against hers and she wished fervently to undo whatever had him so lost in his own thoughts. Come back to me, Killian, she sighed aloud and he snapped to attention. “My apologies, love. I believe I may be in need of rest.” His explanation rang hollow and she leveled a gaze at him, knowing this wasn’t the full truth.

“I swear to you, Princess, I will make my theories known. I do not intend to hide anything from you.” He stood then, stretching languidly before offering his arm and waiting for her to rise. She acquiesced if only for the chance to feel the warmth of him once more before she retired for the night. She tried to stifle her yawn behind her hand and heard him chuckle low in response. “It seems I may not be the only one in need of sleep. Lead the way, love.”

She led him to one of the guest rooms not far from Henry’s. As she bid him goodnight, Killian leaned down to brush a featherlight kiss across her lips, wishing her sweet dreams. Emma felt as though she floated on air the whole way up to her room, content to leave him to his musings tonight and trusting he would speak his mind soon enough.

----- The morning saw Emma waking earlier than usual, calling a chipper “Good morning” to her sleep-rumpled lady’s maid before dismissing her and attending to her own routine. Still abed at this hour? It seems dear Tink has been keeping late hours herself. She let herself ponder whose affections might be persuading the spunky blonde to be less than punctual, smiling at her reflection as she brushed out her golden tresses.

Once ready, Emma hummed to herself, making her way down the innumerable stairs in search of breakfast, her parents, and Killian--the thought made her grin. His sudden shift into contemplativeness notwithstanding, he had been the perfect gentleman last night. Thoughtful in their discussion at dinner, genuine and curious without overstepping, and then there was the kiss. She flushed, pausing before the dining room doors to gather her thoughts and put on what she hoped was a soft smile rather than the doe-eyed look she’d undoubtedly been wearing since she woke.

Her parents, Henry, and Killian were already seated when she entered--the latter both rising and inclining their heads in deference. “Good morning, Princess,” they intoned in unison. She laughed, insisting they sit and continue the conversation she had interrupted, taking her place at her father’s right hand and quietly thanking the servingman who filled her cup with coffee and cream.

“Killian, you were asking about the tower, yes?” Queen Snow offered an encouraging half-smile before sipping demurely at her tea. At this, Emma heard her father mutter under his breath about the Captain inquiring about his daughter’s bedroom.

“Yes. You see, Your Majesty, I can’t help but notice it is nearly identical--from the outside,” he clarified at her father’s rapidly reddening face, “to one I encountered years ago. That particular structure was the residence of a rather powerful witch.”

“Gothel,” her father spat, and all eyes shifted to him. Emma saw Killian’s jaw clench at the name and he gave a single, curt nod in affirmation.

With her mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, her father began the story she’d heard many times over the course of her life. The story of how Gothel heard the regents were expecting and deduced there would be a child born of the most powerful magic in all realms: True Love. That she knew as well that child would have light magic, and that even if it never manifested there would be power in their blood. It was the story of why Emma’s parent’s fortified their home so heavily once word of Gothel’s covetous wish reached them, and why they insisted she train with sword and bow.

“It’s why my little girl was taught to ride like a soldier and not a courtier. Hell, it’s why I gave into her frankly dangerous wishes and allowed her to learn to sail--in case she needed to escape quickly.”

“Does it help to know Gothel can’t harm anyone anymore?” Henry offered helpfully, trying to lighten the weight that had settled on the group. There was general agreement at the table that, yes, it did help. Quite a lot, in fact, and it felt as though the sun broke out from beneath the clouds as they returned to their breakfast.

“Is that what you were concerned about, Captain?” Emma caught herself in time and used his title, not yet ready to have that discussion with her parents.

“The thought had crossed my mind, Princess, but it seems your own construction must have inspired hers for some reason.” He dismissed the thought, though she could practically hear the gears of his mind grinding away. The conversation returned to banal pleasantries about the weather and what game was in season. Her father consulted Killian on the conditions at sea, and in general the rest of the meal was like any other. Like any other meal you share with your family, a new friend, and the man you just shared True Love’s Kiss with less than eight hours after meeting him. Perfectly normal. Emma put on her court smile and commented politely, waiting for her moment to pounce.

“Join me for a walk in the gardens, Captain?” The moment arrived after a lengthy debate about the benefits of traveling by horse in comparison to ship. Thank the gods for the momentary lull as her father’s cup was refilled yet again - Emma didn’t think there was enough coffee in the whole of Misthaven to keep her alert on this topic.

“Of course, Princess.” He smiled bashfully, running his hand through his hair and standing as she rose. “May I?” He offered his arm and she accepted, the two making a long overdue exit.

The grass was still damp as they walked the grounds, the morning sun hinting at a warm day to come despite the slight chill that had Emma leaning in close, basking in the warm line of contact with Killian. “So, what was it you held back up there?” She broke the silence and watched the arch of his brow as he glanced at her. “I’ve always known when people are dishonest, or not fully honest in this case,” she explained. “It’s a feeling, sort of like a rock settling into my stomach. I don’t know if it’s part of my magic or something else,” she shrugged at this and watched his expression shift from curiosity to contemplation. No doubt he was thinking up a way to explain whatever was plaguing his mind.

He remained in that state as they passed her mother’s bed of crimson roses and all the way through the lilies that always made her nose twitch, their heady scent overpowering. Spotting the bench she and Henry had sat on—was that only yesterday?—she took the lead, turning to face him as they sat.

“There are some strange coincidences,” he began. Their knees brushed and she leaned into the contact, hoping her touch might ground him in the present. His past included darkness, and here in the bright morning sun amongst the flowers she hoped to keep those grim memories at bay.

“The tower is the first of them, and I’ve no idea which came first. Given Gothel’s numerous deceits, I’m not inclined to believe any of her tales nor any of Belfry’s—the woman who claimed to be the missing princess, Rapunzel,” he clarified when he saw her puzzled look. “Did you know the witch?”

She shook her head, “Only what my parents told me: that she was interested in my magic and had a reputation for taking what she desired by force.” He expressed clear agreement, and when his focus became distant Emma took hold of both hand and hook. “Whatever it is, that doesn’t change who we are to one another, Killian.”

That must have heartened him, for it earned her a gentle smile. “Aye, love, I suppose you’re right. You see, the other strangeness was Gothel’s impersonation. I’ve never given it much thought, but why should she play at being a princess? I’d no notion who the woman was, yet she changed her appearance, her voice, her name. Why?” He hypothesized then that either Gothel bribed the fortune-teller, planting the man in Killian’s path with a bogus story about happiness in a tower, or that she somehow knew Emma would be important and hedged her bets by occupying her own tower and putting herself in Killian’s path.

“You see, I’ve considered the strangeness of these overlaps and in part I wonder if one of the gifts she or a fellow witch of her coven acquired was prophecy. She seemed to know far more than anyone ought to, and perhaps thought to entrap me and use me to get to you.

“If she knew we were, uh,” he gulped, and flushed a charming shade of pink all the way to his ears. “Destined for one another, then it would be well within her character to exploit that. To make me think she could lead me to my happiness, then snatch you away for her own nefarious purposes. As well, I’m starting to suspect the unaccounted year the townsfolk allude to may well have been a longer span of time than any of you realize.”

It made sense in a way, and while they couldn’t be certain of Gothel’s intentions, Emma was definitely grateful the woman was gone and could do them no further harm. As far as The Gap was concerned, she supposed there was no real way of knowing how much time had passed, only that it seemed like a year. Had she slept as Aurora once had? Every answer seemed to lead to more questions, but Emma resolved herself to focusing on what mattered most first: reuniting Killian with his Alice.

“Despite her purposes, Killian, whatever they may have been,” she reached up and cupped his cheek. His eyes were blue as the sea and she let herself fall into their depths as she brought him back to the present. “Last night, Killian, True Love’s Kiss is potent magic and I think—I’m almost certain, actually—that we broke your curse. We can find Alice, and you can finally hold your daughter in your arms again.”

“We?” He grinned at her, nuzzling against her hand before turning to kiss her palm. “Then you’ll accompany me, love?”

“Of course! I know we’ve only just met, but I think it’s more than obvious how I feel about you given the fact we broke a witch’s curse with our first kiss.” They shared a laugh, shifting so she could rest her head against his shoulder as he draped his arm around her.

“She’s a bit different, my Alice,” he cautioned.

“And we aren’t?” she challenged. “Tonight at dinner, let me handle my parents. We’ll tell them what happened and make plans to seek out Alice. Henry said she’s with someone called Robin—does that name mean anything to you?”

“Aye, that’s Alice’s love. I know where to find them.”

“Then that’s our next course. Reuniting you with your daughter is the first step toward, well, I guess…” she paused, pulling back to meet his gaze again. “I guess toward becoming a family, right? I mean, my parents will have questions and all things considered, I guess we have other planning we’ll need to do in the future, but—“ he cut off her monologue with a kiss. It was sweet and slow, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips on his. His tongue flirted with her bottom lip and she twined her fingers in his hair.

Pulling back to meet her eyes, Killian smiled. “I love you, Princess Emma Nolan,” he whispered.

She felt warm all the way to her toes, grinning as she replied, “I love you, Captain Killian Jones.” The two shared a lingering kiss, the spell suddenly broken by a loud whoop of excitement.

“I told you both!” Henry hollered, emerging from his hiding place behind a large oak tree and performing some bizarre dance Emma had never seen. The three laughed, Henry congratulating them on their newly blossoming relationship while Emma and Killian thanked him for the unlooked-for but welcome help.

“What can I say except: you’re welcome.” His smile was bright at the sun and he slung an arm over both their shoulders, walking between them as the three returned to the house and, for Emma and Killian, toward the start of a new life together.

Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @veryverynotgood, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @laschatzi, @donteattheappleshook, @lonelyspectator12, @the-darkdragonfly, @zaharadessert, @winterbaby89, @jrob64, @wefoundloveunderthelight, @ultraluckycatnd, @stahlop, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @superchocovian, @monosalvatore16, @snowbellewells, @batana54

[sotangledupinit]

Listen, I don’t think we as a society talk about the fact that Killian gave up his revenge to save Henry (and I kind of think he did it in memory of Neal so).

Like hear me out with this and I’m not sure how much of this makes sense but it does, trust me.

So like the season two finale really focuses on Killian’s relationship with Neal when he was just a boy and still Baelfire. He was Milah’s son and Killian’s first chance at a family. (This could be a headcanon or fanon or whatever but I think it was pretty obvious that despite how blinded by revenge he was, he still regretted what he did to Bae in Neverland. Anyway.)

I don’t think the guilt of his past actions with Baelfire weigh as heavily on Killian as they do when Emma reveals that, not only is he Henry’s father but, he is also now dead. Killian’s plan by then is already in motion -- he already took the bean out of the bag and decided to take his ship and leave. 

It is Baelfire that is the reason Killian turns back. He feels full-force the regret of what he did in leaving Baelfire and he decides that he won’t do that to Emma; he will not leave her to die or at the hands of some evil force like he’s already done and regretted in the past. So he makes his first step in being a better man and turns around. It’s something he should have done for Baelfire, it’s something Milah and Liam would be proud of him for. Emma reminded him of what it means to do something good that would benefit more than just himself.

Killian turns back with good intentions and, luckily for him, the town didn’t blow up and they didn’t need the magic bean. However, he quickly finds out that Henry -- Baelfire’s son, Milah’s grandson -- has been kidnapped. He immediately offers his ship and his services without a second to think when Emma tells him what happened.

Rumple goes, “So, you done trying to kill me?”

Killian replies, “I believe so.”

Killian puts aside his thirst for revenge, his desire to see the Dark One suffer for all the pain he’s caused him, so that they can save Henry. They are literally standing on the deck of The Jolly Roger, where Rumple once begged for his wife back, and later right where Rumple crushed Milah’s heart and took his hand. It’s so poetic that Killian states then and there that he’s done trying to kill him, atop the scene of the crime where he vowed to find a way to destroy him and avenge Milah!

Instead, he gives this all up, offers his ship and services, to save Henry, a boy he hasn’t even met before this. But the boy is special because he is everything he loves (and is beginning to love) -- Milah, Baelfire, and Emma. 

I truly think him being Baelfire’s son is what sealed the deal. Baelfire found himself ripped from his world and without his family and then betrayed by a man he began to care for and Killian, fully regretting how his last encounter with Baelfire went down, decides he is going to do everything to save Henry in the way he couldn’t save Bae.

And I just love that. 

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 11)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! I am so excited to share this chapter for a number of reasons, one of them being that we get a new POV that is not Emma or Killian. That’s right, today I am including Elsa as one of our storytellers too. But don’t worry, as much as we’ll be learning about Elsa and Anna’s past and Elsa and Liam’s attraction to each other, there will still be some CS cuteness. Because it is me, there is also a LOT of fluff and feels abounding. It’s hard to say much more without spoiling, so, without further ado, I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for the support and good vibes!

Wandering through the woods at the far reach of the Institute, Elsa did her best to stave off the worry that had clung to her heart all night. She hardly slept, tossing and turning, gripped with agitation, and all because today, at long last, the truth would come out.

It wasn’t that she enjoyed lying all this time, or that Elsa was desirous to keep her story hidden any longer. This was simply reflex. For years she and her sister had guarded their real origins from nearly everyone they met. Only a select few people in the world knew anything of Elsa and Anna’s past, and those secret keepers had not been chosen by her or her sister. They were thrust into this situation as children, but today they would take a leap of faith and share the truth with a new, but genuine friend.

Emma is deserving of our trust, Elsa reasoned to herself, continuing an argument she’d had internally for weeks. She and Anna had both agreed Emma was someone they could confide in and they believed in her goodness and her ability to keep a secret. They had both yearned for the chance to share this truth with someone – anyone - and now they had it. But it had gotten so much more complicated at the same time, and all thanks to the royal visit that happened yesterday.

When she and Anna moved to Montenarro and began working at the Institute, they both knew the slight risk that existed of their being found out. Public curiosity had long ago waned about their family, enough so that they felt capable of using their real first names in applying for the job, but members of the aristocracy were different. They memorized lineages, and studied other families of note, across country lines. The royal family of Montennaro may not come to the Center often, but they did sponsor and fund this charity. As such, there may come a time when they encountered the royals. This was, theoretically, not a huge issue, at least not in Anna’s eyes. After all, Anna had never actually met any member of the royal family, and so had no chance of being recognized. She assumed that Elsa was in the same boat, and that would make sense, for the sisters had done nearly everything together their whole lives.

Selfishly, Elsa allowed her sister’s assumption of their past run ins with the royals to stand, even though it was not accurate. She omitted the truth, about a moment in time that felt light years away and yet so cherished even now, because she wanted to stay here in Montennaro. It was her and Anna’s dream to do good works, to make use of all their many years of study back in France, and to leave the world a little brighter than how they had found it. After everything they had been through, Elsa so dearly wished to give back to children in need alongside her sister. There were no other opportunities like this one, no Centers that provided as much for their pupils, and no other place that felt like a home, not since the passing of their Grandmere. So Elsa had bit her tongue, and enjoyed the years of obscurity they found here with the children, always praying that her secret from her sister would never come to light.

Things obviously changed when Killian arrived, and when it was announced that the youngest son of the royal line would be here, working alongside them, almost every day. The panic Elsa carried with her was profound, but after hesitation in the beginning, Elsa realized there was nothing to fear from the Prince. Prince Killian had no connection to her, and he was instantly consumed by his attraction to Emma. There was no fear of him discovering who she and Anna were, not when he was distracted and totally besotted by her friend.

Only when she and Anna spoke with Killian after the parade did Elsa begin to worry again, not because she thought her friend would lose out on the clearly true love she’d found with Killian, but because it was clear as day that Emma and the prince would one day be married. That was a wonderful thing, but it would make a friendship between Elsa and Anna and Emma so much harder. Guarding this secret would become even more difficult if they regularly saw people who held so many breadcrumbs from the past. Elsa had grown more and more worried about it, but it was ultimately Anna who made the decision.

“There’s only one thing to do,” Anna said the night of Killian and Emma’s reconciliation. “We have to tell Emma the truth. I think the danger for us has long since passed, but even so, it’s best to tell her what we’ve been through. Just in case. That way, when they marry, as we both know they will, we can sidestep the whole awkward RSVP thing. It’ll be a shame to miss it, but it can’t be risked. Not if we want to keep hiding.”

Elsa was simultaneously relieved at Anna’s idea, and guilty at the fact that she still wasn’t being totally honest. In truth, it was eating her up inside, and she just didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

Not much longer now. You’ll tell them both everything today. As soon as Emma gets here.

At that moment, Elsa came to the part of a wooded clearing where green grass met the bank of a bubbling stream. The clear spring water flowed across rocks and moss, gurgling along in a measured, soothing melody. It was nothing like the mighty river they’d grown up on, which was loud and thunderous and strong, but still, a lullaby from her childhood filtered through Elsa’s mind, and a memory of their mother singing to her and Anna transported her back to the life they used to have…

“Sing it again, Mama, please?” Anna pleaded, snuggling into bed and holding Elsa close as she did. The two of them had their own beds, and their own rooms, but every night Anna made her way here, insisting that she and Elsa needed to be together. Elsa never tried to fight it. She loved Anna, and she always slept better with her sister beside her.

“Anna, darling, it’s late. Far too late for my two little princesses to still be awake. How will you ever rise with the sun if you never go to sleep?”

Their mother’s green eyes shone with mischief, but also so much love. She was pretending to deny them, but she could never say no to Anna. It was only a matter of time before she repeated the lullaby again, and Elsa couldn’t wait. She loved her mother’s voice. It was like warm honey in her father’s favorite tea. A splash of simple sweetness that made all the difference in the world.

“I promise to go right to bed. Look, I’ll even close my eyes,” Anna said eagerly, shutting her eyes so tight her face scrunched with the effort. Elsa shook with silent laughter and watched her mother do the same. Then their mother sighed and yielded to the request.

“Oh, all right. Now let’s see here. How does it start again…?”

Anna’s eyes popped open as she fed her the line. “Where the north wind meets the sea!” she exclaimed, and their mother shook her head even as she smiled.

“Ah, ah, ah. Eyes closed remember?”

Anna nodded and closed her eyes again before whispering. “You help her, Elsa. You and Mama sing. I love it when you sing.”

“Ok, Anna,” she agreed, taking her sisters hand and squeezing it gently. Then she and her mother looked at each other and started the song together.

“Where the north wind meets the sea There’s a river full of memory Sleep, my darling, safe and sound For in this river all is found

In her waters, deep and true Lay the answers and a path for you Dive down deep into her sound But not too far or you’ll be drowned

Yes, she will sing to those who’ll hear And in her song, all magic flows But can you brave what you most fear? Can you face what the river knows?

Where the north wind meets the sea There’s a mother full of memory Come, my darling, homeward bound When all is lost, then all is found”

In the short time they sang the song, Elsa felt Anna’s hold on her soften, but she wasn’t quite asleep yet. Elsa held a finger up to her mother, a signal that they should sing it through once more, and by the time that was done, Anna’s breathing had evened out and she was already dreaming. She was nearly impossible to wake once sleeping, so Elsa felt free to speak to her mother in a quiet tone.

“Anna still thinks if we search hard enough by the riverside, we’ll find the magic in the song.”

“But you don’t?” Her mother asked and Elsa shook her head.

“No. I think magic like that is just in stories.”

“Perhaps, but I like to think our magic – real magic – is just a little bit different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you’re right, the lullaby goes hand in hand with our old folk stories, the legends of Arendelle shared for hundreds of years. In those stories people had abilities that no ordinary human should have.”

“Like superheroes,” Elsa offered, and her mother smiled.

“Exactly. But just because we can’t wield water or ice or flames doesn’t mean we can’t make a difference. And you know how you make the biggest difference?” Elsa shook her head. “With love and with kindness. The way you love your sister, the way you love your father and I, the way you love everyone here in the manor, that is your greatest gift, my dear. And someday you will change the lives of so many people all by showing them great love and compassion.”

“You really think that’s magical?” Elsa asked, letting the idea wash over her. She always tried her best to do right and to be good to other people. That was what her parents had taught her. She liked the idea that by being good she was using a superpower, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Everyone did seem so much happier when she was kind and patient, and at the end of the day, that was the greatest gift – to be happy.

“Oh yes. It’s an old magic, one that is so much more powerful than people give it credit for. But once you know of it, it’s your job to keep it strong. You must never give up hope, and you must always follow your heart and do the next right thing.”

“The next right thing,” Elsa agreed, not thinking too much of it as sleep was beginning to creep near. The hour was late, and she was tired too, but she wanted to stay awake and enjoy this time with her mother. She and Anna often had to share their time with their parents, and it always made Elsa feel special to be with her one on one. As if she could read Elsa’s mind, her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead and made a promise.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, my darling. Now, get some sleep.”

Elsa had no idea that that night with her mother would be the last, and that everything she took for granted as the pillars of her world would be stolen in an instant. They’d gone from peace and contentment to total upheaval in the blink of an eye, and she and Anna were whisked away immediately, saved by little more than luck and the will of fate herself. The pain of that day would be etched in her soul forever, and so would the grief of losing the only home she’d ever known. But now, after decades of wishing things were different, Elsa could look back and be grateful, not for the troubles that had come, but for the sacred moments they did have with their parents before they were gone. It was hard to look back, but it was also a blessing. To have been so deeply loved that death could not sever the tie, that was something that had kept Elsa strong, and what she would cling to today especially.

Unwillingly, Elsa’s mind wandered at just the thought of love, to a man who bewildered her and drew her in all at once. He was always meant to be a beautiful memory, a boy she knew one summer’s day who showed her kindness and kissed her senseless. She could never confess how much she’d thought of him that summer. It was a girlhood infatuation that rivaled any other. Truth be told, he never was fully forgotten. He was always there in the back of her mind, until they’d moved here and she’d seen a random tabloid in the corner store. On the cover was a picture of a beautiful man – the King of Montenarro – and staring back at her were the same blue eyes from her girlhood dreams, if a little colder than she remembered.

That night she’d poured over the gossip rag and scoured the internet, waiting only until Anna went to bed before falling into a sinkhole of information. She read all about what he’d done since they had met, and how he’d stepped up to rule in a country that needed more than a little bit of hope. He was fair and wise and just, and passionate about making this country prosperous for all. Most recently he’d been working on his initiative to give all people in the country more say in government, and she thought that was admirable and knew how hard a task it must be. For years she’d watched and read the headlines, tracking his progress, while trying to avoid the speculation on things like his future and his love life. There was always talk about who the King would one day marry, and though Elsa knew she would be nothing but a forgotten blip in his past, it still hurt her to think of the boy who’d touched her heart belonging to another.

“Touched my heart,” she said aloud, scoffing with the foolishness of the thought. “As if I haven’t been secretly giving it to him for years. God, what a mess this all is.”

At confessing her feelings, which had mostly developed from afar, Elsa’s hands began to shake. Even if she’d thought of him often, it never in a million years occurred to her that they would ever reunite. But yesterday they had, and it was even more intense than she remembered. All day she felt his eyes on her, watching her every move. At all stages of the visit she could feel his presence, and it spun her whole world upside down. Never mind seeing him with the children, and watching him come out of his shell to offer them genuine affection. That had truly done her in, and almost made her forget herself. A few times they’d managed to speak, but Elsa always found an opportunity to run or to distract. She longed for that closeness, but was scared to death of letting someone – especially him – behind her many walls.

By the time she made her way back to her and Anna’s home, it was nearly time for Emma’s arrival and Elsa was nowhere closer to composure. She tried to breathe deeply, using some mindfulness to clear her thoughts, but her pulse was racing and her hands still shook. No matter – it was too late to run now. She had to face this head on. There was simply no other way.

A minute later she opened up the door, and within seconds, Anna was on her, enveloping her in a huge bear hug and prompting an emotional reaction in Elsa. Her sister was scared too, but Elsa could tell that underneath it all Anna was excited. She didn’t even need to see her face to know that there was relief in sharing their story. Anna had never liked living a lie, and the burden of it weighed on her always. Knowing that, Elsa hugged her back and whispered words of encouragement.

“It’s going to be all right, Anna. Remember what Mama used to say.”

“All you can do is the next right thing,” Anna replied shakily before nodding. “This is the right thing.”

Elsa had just enough time to agree before a knock sounded at the front door. “Are you ready?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay, then let’s do this.”

………….

Sitting in the kitchen of Elsa and Anna’s small but charming house, Emma could practically taste the anxiety in the air. Whatever was going on with her friends was electric, and the room crackled with unsaid words Emma was increasingly eager to hear. Despite that, she could tell her friends needed a bit of an ice breaker, and she used one of her surest tactics to provide one.

“I’m sorry I’m a little later than we planned. Henry was on another level this morning. I love him more than anything, but he’s just so…”

“Helpful?” Anna offered.

“Curious?” Elsa countered.

“I was going more for something like ‘verbose.’ I swear he’s always got a dozen stories he can tell and today was no different. Actually, it was worse, because Killian was there last night, and you know how he gets with Killian.”

“He loves him,” Elsa said automatically, prompting Emma to smile warmly.

“He told Killian last night. It was so easy for him. He didn’t think twice, he just said exactly how he feels.”

“Oh, Emma,” Anna said, happily taking her hand after putting a tray of pastries on the counter. “That’s wonderful. What did Killian say?”

“That he loves him too.”

“I knew I liked that man for a reason,” Anna replied glibly. “Though, to be fair, it’s impossible not to love Henry. He’s the cutest, even if he hates me saying it.”

“Killian said something else too,” Emma said, waiting for Elsa to sit down with their tea. She watched her friends slightly shaky hands pour each of them a cup before spilling the beans. “He told me he sees a future, for us, the three of us. He said… well he said he loves me, and that no matter what he wants to be with me. Forever.”

The sounds of secondhand joy that came from both her friends made Emma even happier, though it also prompted a blush she’d been trying pretty hard to fend off.

“And what did you say?!”

“That I love him too.”

“Forever?”

“Definitely.”

“Oh my God, this is exactly what I needed today,” Anna said happily. “You don’t even know.” Belatedly it seemed to dawn on her – that was actually why Emma was here in the first place.

“I really don’t want to push, but it sounded yesterday like the two of you had something you really want to tell me. I promise whatever is said here, it’s between us. I’m still kind of new to the whole having good friends thing, but I can keep a secret.”

There was only a moment of silence between them before Elsa replied. She centered herself with a deep breath in to start and then let it out and looked directly at Emma. “You have to understand that all of her hesitation has nothing to do with you. We trust you. We do. It’s just been years of training ourselves to hide this part of our past, and keep the story in check so no one ever questions it.”

“Years?” Anna barked out hollowly. “More like our whole lives. Honestly, I barely remember a time without the secrets. It’s like they’ve always been here.”

“You’re right,” Elsa acknowledged, squeezing Anna’s hand gently. “This has been our burden to carry for as long as we can remember, and though time has passed, and we believe the physical threat is long behind us, old habits die hard.”

“Actually, in our case they don’t really seem to die at all,” Anna quipped. “You’re the first person we’ve ever told, and we can’t even seem to do that right. God, this is so hard. Why is this so hard?”

“Probably because there’s no easy way to say this,” Elsa admitted. Emma reached out for her hand in a show of comfort and Elsa looked up at her immediately. Emma wanted to assure her she was here to help, never to judge, and if they needed more time to make peace with their decision to share, that was fine too.

“Just tell me what you can. Start wherever you need to.”

Over the next hour, Emma patiently listened as they unfurled a truth that had been wrapped up tight for twenty years. They told her about their parents, two young Europeans who had met on foreign holiday. They were neither of them in their country of birth, and both eager to avoid the shackles of their real worlds, at least for a little while. Together they’d succeeded in doing this, and they had spent a week falling hopelessly in love with each other. From the way Elsa and Anna described it, Iduna and Agnar (yes, those were apparently their real names) had woven their strings together so tightly, the braid could not be broken.

The ‘problem’ stemmed from their father, for though he loved their mother endlessly, he had obligations – royal obligations. It turned out that Agnar was a Prince, of a nearby European principality that Emma had actually heard of. Arendelle was a small place, but it had undergone a revolution when she was a child, and even in the States there was endless conversation about it for a while. At first Emma was shocked, how was it possible that their Dad was a prince? But it took only a few moments for the surprise to dissipate. It explained why Elsa and Anna had always been so jumpy and yet very knowledgeable at multiple instances. It also explained why they were so hell-bent on keeping a secret, since the things Emma had heard about this country had hardly been positive.

According to Elsa and Anna, at the same time that Prince Agnar miraculously found love with their mother, his father, Runeard, had grown ill and passed away, leaving him as the heir apparent of the kingdom of Arendelle. Their father was eager for that role, and had been preparing for it all his life, until he was confronted with a truth that destroyed every plan he’d ever had. He could not remain the ruler of his country and pursue a life with the woman that he loved. He was bound as King to marry someone from a royal bloodline, and so he’d made a choice, to relinquish his crown and to hand it over to his younger brother. Their Uncle was a good man, and so they believed he would be a good King, but after a peaceful transition of power, and ten years of quiet where Elsa and Anna’s parents married, had children, and made a quiet country life for them all, something happened. Their Uncle had begun trusting the wrong people, and a coup had taken place. The palace was overrun, the royal family was imprisoned, and the country was thrust into darkness.

In the thick of that fighting, Elsa and Anna’s parents had also been targeted. They knew it was coming, as no coup could allow for anyone of the royal bloodline to live, but they didn’t have the time to all get out safely. Instead, their parents stayed behind as Elsa and Anna were taken with their father’s one-time nanny. She had lived with them all their lives, caring for them as if she were their own relation, and she brought them to France, through untraceable means, to the only other living relative they had left. Technically the older woman who became their lifeline was their father’s Aunt, but to them, she was forever Grandmere.

“It was a few weeks with Grandmere before we had confirmation that mother and father were gone,” Elsa said, sadness, even all these years, later taking hold of her quivering voice. Emma ached for her friend, and she couldn’t comprehend that kind of loss. She had never had parents at all, and that had been so painful in so many ways, but in some respects this was an even worse fate. “They were strong, and they protected us until the very end, but some battles simply can’t be won. Some heartbreaks cannot be avoided.”

“I’m so sorry, for both of you,” Emma said softly. “I cannot imagine the pain at knowing your parents and their goodness and then losing it like that.”

“It was difficult,” Anna agreed, “Especially being in a new country and having to hide who we were and basically stay at Grandmere’s estate all the time. But even when they passed, our parents were never truly gone. They’ve always been with us. Their love lives on in us, right Elsa?”

“Right,” Elsa agreed, offering a smile to her sister. “We stayed in France with Grandmere for years, and even though we were hurting, it was still a happy time. Grandmere adored us and spoiled us like any grandmother should. She gave us all the love and attention a person could stand, but she also took her role as our protector very seriously. As Anna said, we never really left the manor. It was a great estate, but for all intents and purposes we were under house arrest for years. We had private tutors for our schooling and no nanny except for Grandmere. The household staff were either sworn to secrecy or told an unassuming story about how we were two distant cousins who had fallen on hard times. The core of the story was true, of course. We had been orphaned through a series of tragic circumstances, but everything else was an illusion, including our names.”

Emma’s look of surprise had Anna clarifying quickly. “Our full names are Elisandra and Annadella, but our parents always called us Elsa and Anna. Those other names were family heirlooms, but these names were our truth. That’s what Mama used to say. Still those nicknames were a luxury we couldn’t afford when at our Grandmere’s. So we chose new ones. Selene for Elsa, and Soleil for me.”

“Totally different,” Emma said casually.

“They were,” Elsa agreed, “But they kept an important part of our story intact. My father called me his ‘little Luna’ since the night I was born, under a full blue moon. An ice-solstice, as it’s referred to in Arendellian tradition. It’s supposedly a sign of great fortune for babies born to be born on those rare nights. Meanwhile Anna was born at high noon on the sunniest, most beautiful day of the year. The kind of day that was a gift, as Papa would say. From that day forward, Anna became his ‘sunshine.”

“So let me guess, Selene means moon and Soliel means sun.”

“Yes. It was hard to get used to, but Grandmere helped us every step of the way. She was devoted to us completely, and in truth, I think she loved us as much as any mother could. She had no children of her own, but she had us, and thank God we had her.”

“But you never went out, you never left your home?”

“Not for a long time. Eventually we were allowed small indulgences. We went to Grandmere’s house in Paris every Christmas season for the shopping and the sights. We visited her sister, Aunt Josephina, on the Spanish coast in August, when the weather was hottest and the beach was pure bliss,” Anna acquiesced. “But we never went to school or sports or that kind of thing. All we really had was each other, until I made a dear friend in our next-door neighbor, Aurora. She didn’t know the truth about our past, but Grandmere fully trusted her parents. They were diplomats, and always had ample security. A few summers I was allowed to go for a week or two to their summer home. Elsa was always invited, but she preferred the quiet for a change, deciding to get lost in her reading instead of adventuring with me.”

Emma noticed that Elsa flinched slightly at the words, but it escaped Anna’s notice. Emma looked at her curiously, wondering if Elsa would comment on the claim, but when no words came from Elsa, she decided to ask some more directed questions. Emma wondered about what had happened to Arendelle and how they came to be in Montenarro. Arendelle, luckily, was much recovered from the tumult of the past. The heinous coup had been righted by the people, and a new democratic government instilled. Unfortunately, their Uncle had not made it through that dark time unscathed. He grew very ill while in confinement and died some years later. The country was now transitioning to a fully democratic state, but there was, at least reportedly, great respect amongst the public for the royals that were. Their parents and Uncle were highly regarded, with a memorial service each year held in honor of their bravery and dedication to the country. Whispers about whatever happened to Elsa and Anna, or if they had even existed remained, but it had been a long time since any real attention was paid to their fates.

Despite those changing tides, Elsa and Anna’s grandmother had always been hesitant in exposing the truth. She believed it wise not to open the door to a grand reveal. Why tempt fate when they could instead pursue, simpler, less complicated lives? Elsa and Anna had waivered at first, but ultimately decided that the best way to honor their parents was to do as they’d instructed – share their love and their abilities to make the lives of people who needed it better. Their personal experiences sparked their interest in working with orphaned children, and they both went to school to study in Paris, staying at their Grandmere’s home all the while. It was only after the unexpected death of their dear Grandmere that they’d decided on a change. The jobs here in Montenarro had been discovered, and the rest was history. Anna and Elsa had chosen their simple, balanced life, and they’d been keeping the secret all the while.

“So, I guess keeping the truth from the rest of the world now is less about any danger to your life, and more about your privacy. I can only imagine how it would go – the press discovering two long lost princesses who lived through that kind of turmoil. It would be…” Emma trailed off and Anna filled in.

“A nightmare.”

Now there was no denying the reaction from Elsa, and in truth, it looked like her friend had been struck by something. She was suddenly pale, and clearly agitated, and Emma suspected it was all to do with a certain King who’d paid her extra mind upon his visit to the Center yesterday.

“Elsa, are you all right?” Anna asked, pulling Elsa in from her own wandering thoughts. Still she looked almost haunted, and was unable to convince either Anna or Emma that she was well.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the whispered words were hardly reaffirming.

“You are definitely not fine. Elsa, you’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m always pale, you know that,” Elsa tried to joke but it was a pitiful attempt at humor.

“Elsa, seriously. What’s wrong?” Anna asked, looking, for the first time all day, actually afraid. That distress in her sister’s eyes prompted Elsa to hug Anna fiercely, and admit an unexpected truth for both Anna and Emma.

“I have to tell you something. Something I never told you.”

“Okay,” Anna agreed quickly, with nothing like anger in her expression. “You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all.”

This time the revelations shared were questioned mostly by Anna, though Emma had questions as well. Who wouldn’t, given the surprise twist in an already surprising tale?

It turned out that in one of those times where Anna was traveling with her friend, Elsa had gone with their Grandmere back to Paris. One afternoon they received an invitation from their grandmother’s oldest friend for a garden party. With Elsa now 16, it was their grandmother’s belief that she was ready for such an event. Elsa promised to keep to her story and mind her manners, but when she arrived, she was so nervous about doing or saying the wrong thing that she wandered off, away from the party all together. Deep within the hedgerow she’d met a young man who was also hiding. The bond of shared discomfort and an instant attraction made for a magical day where young love had a chance to bloom. At the time Elsa knew him only as Liam, and while she had planned to ask her Grandmere for more information on him, the old woman was in a state of panic when they finally reunited. It turned out more people were there than she ever realized, including some who could have discovered the secret. Elsa saw how much relief her Grandmere felt when she fibbed and said she’d been alone out in the gardens, she hadn’t the heart to tell her the truth. The lie was typical, especially for a teenager, but it was clear it still ate away at Elsa.

“I felt awful keeping it from her. I kept trying to get up the courage to confess, but then you came home early after Aurora broke her ankle on her horse, and the summer ended, and nothing ever came of it,” Elsa said, looking to Anna. “Eventually I came to believe that even if he seemed remarkable to me, he was just a boy. Our secret was still safe, and I had had my day in the sun.”

“So you didn’t realize who he was?” Emma asked and Elsa shook her head.

“It never came up,” Elsa asserted. “He only referred to himself as Liam. He told me he was seventeen and that his mother knew our hostess and that was it. I didn’t ask questions. Well, not about those kinds of things. We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. I didn’t have the time for basic details.”

The feeling was familiar to Emma. When she first met Killian, she felt the same way. They were so busy connecting with each other, so busy feeling the spark between them, that the words almost seemed to matter less. Knowing that Elsa had experienced that explained every part of her reaction yesterday, from the barely veiled interest to the severe trepidation every time she was within touching distance of the King.

“But when did you know the truth of who he was, Elsa? Please, please tell me it wasn’t just yesterday,” Anna begged, surprising both Elsa and Emma with her acceptance of the story and genuine want for Elsa to not have been blind-sided.

“It wasn’t,” Elsa admitted. “I found out when we first came to interview here. I saw a picture in the paper and I knew. I should have told you then, Anna, I know I should have, but we both felt it, our calling to this place. I swear it was like Mama and Papa brought us here. There were all those signs, and that feeling we just hadn’t had since we were kids. I thought that if I shared the truth we’d have to leave, and I couldn’t do that, to you or to me.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Emma admitted. “Perhaps that makes me selfish, but I know for a fact how much staying has meant not just for me but for the kids. This place is like one big family, and it’s thanks to you two. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I comforted myself with that thought for years. We were making a difference, we were using the magic Mama taught me about. But that doesn’t mean what I did was right. I shouldn’t have kept it from Anna, and now we may have no choice but to run.”

“No choice but to run?” Anna parroted, astounded at the idea. “Elsa, what are you talking about? We are not running. You are definitely not running!”

“We’re not?”

“Absolutely not. And you know why? Because this is love, Elsa. If yesterday is anything to go off of, and if your day together years ago was even half as romantic as you described, it’s full blown, love at first sight, once in a lifetime stuff. And you want to talk about signs? How about the fact that we could have landed anywhere in the world for work – we had no limits and no plan – and we ended up here, in the same place where Liam is King. The chances were so slim, I know that was Mama and Papa’s doing.”

Tears had spilled onto Elsa’s cheeks at Anna’s declaration, but it didn’t stop Anna from continuing on, even though her own eyes were misting over with the emotion of it all. “Our parents would never ever want you to run from love, Elsa, and neither do I. You deserve it, and here it is, back again after years of being parted. You’ve never really connected with anyone else, and I thought it was just a matter of waiting for the right man to come along, but now I know you were waiting for him again.”

“But it’s hopeless, Anna. He is the King.”

“So? You’re a princess.”

“A princess in hiding. A princess who’s story belongs squarely in the past. I can’t ask him to keep the secret, but I also can’t keep it from him. I’m caught up in this web I can’t get out of, and Liam is too honorable. He would never deceive his people like that. I wouldn’t ever ask him to.”

“So we let the secret go,” Anna said adamantly. “It’s simple Elsa. We just tell the truth.”

“You don’t mean that,” Elsa replied earnestly.

“I do.”

“You just said it would be a nightmare.”

“That was before I realized our alternative, and believe me, Elsa, there is no question of which is worse. If giving up obscurity and facing the press is what it takes to get you your love, it will be the easiest decision I ever make.”

“That’s assuming he even wants me,” Elsa said prompting Emma to chime in.

“Oh, he wants you. Believe me, and if you don’t believe me, then believe Killian. He talked about it most of the night, and he knows his brother better than anyone.”

“Maybe he wants me, but he doesn’t know everything, and I have no idea how he’ll take it.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” Anna said, standing up and pulling Elsa with her. “You have to tell him.”

“Now?” Elsa squawked, looking at Emma for help and Emma intervened.

“Let me call, Killian. He’s at the palace today. He can help us figure out a time.” No sooner had she said the words than her fingers were making the call. It rang only twice before the sexiest voice she knew picked up.

“Miss me already, Swan?”

“Something like that. Listen, I’m here with Elsa and Anna and I think it would be good if Elsa and Liam talked.”

Emma heard murmuring and then something that sounded like the phone banging on a table. She flinched from the sound, but then heard Killian once more. “Sorry, love. Suffice it to say my brother is enthused by the prospect.”

“When?” Emma asked, and she heard a resounding ‘Now!’ from the background. It was Liam’s voice and it prompted a smile for Emma. Elsa and Anna looked at her curiously as Killian responded.

“The sooner the better it seems.”

“Okay, so in an hour then?”

“Aye.” Again there was fussing on the other line, and it sounded like someone was pacing, until Killian spoke once more. “Might I suggest my place, so they may have some privacy.”

“Perfect,” Emma agreed. “She’ll be there.”

“Brilliant,” Killian quipped, “And Emma?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, hanging up and putting her phone away in her pocket.

“And?” Anna asked.

“He wants to meet at Killian’s in an hour.”

“So soon?!” Elsa asked and Emma laughed.

“By the sounds of thing, an hour may as well be an eternity in Liam’s eyes.”

“He’s not the only one,” Anna agreed drawing Emma and Elsa’s gazes immediately. “What? Oh, come on, Emma, like you aren’t totally excited to see what happens. The suspense is practically killing me.”

“It may actually kill me,” Elsa said, putting her hand to her heart.

“It’s going to be all right,” Emma insisted, prompting Elsa to look up at her with hopeful but still skeptical eyes. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. I can just tell.”

“See!” Anna said excitedly. “And you know Emma’s gut is legendary. She can sense these things.”

“She didn’t sense Killian was a prince,” Elsa replied, not in a mean way, but as a frantic response from someone currently dealing with a lot.

“Touché,” Emma said with a laugh. “But I did know he was it for me. So, let me put it this way: I don’t know exactly how it will happen, but I do know you and Liam are going to work things out. Is that better?”

“Only if you really mean it,” Elsa whispered.

“I do,” Emma said softly.

“Ok,” Elsa agreed after a moment’s pause, straightening her spine in a show of determination. “Ok, I’ll do it.”

And with that the three of them set out to help Elsa get ready, knowing today would be a turning point, and that soon a much-needed conversation would lay it all out there once and for all.

Post-Note: Not going to lie, this chapter took SO long to craft, partially because of my muse being fussy, but mostly because, in the end, I needed two chapters to do this whole bit justice. I know I am leaving you on a bit of a cliff hanger, but I promise that next chapter we get the entirety of the Elsa/Liam story, and some added CS scenes to boot. Anyway, I really do hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and that it brightened your day, even if there were parts that were a bit sad. I love seeing what you all think, and knowing so many of you have enjoyed reading so far. I am still pretty busy with other things at the moment, but I promise to do my best to get an update written soon. Hope to see you next time, until then, hoping you are safe, healthy, and well!

[cosette141]

Begin Again (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 8

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Pairing: Captain Swan

Words: 5k (this chapter) | 45k (total, so far)

Summary: (s2 "Manhattan" divergence) No one breaks a deal with Rumplestiltskin, and Emma finds herself facing the wrath of the Dark One. What if Neal didn't come back for Emma in NYC, but instead, Hook showed up to kill Rumplestiltskin early? No one has ever saved Emma before, and Hook has never been able to save anyone at all. It's time for them both to tell a different story. Together. CS

Chp 8: Read on Ao3

Chapter 8

a/n: I split this chapter up because it was getting obscenely long. So here's 5k of fluff. ;)

Emma has never been more comfortable in her life.

Warmth and a distinct feeling of safe was wrapped around her, holding her close. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking against the soft rays of daylight shining in through the window.

And she lay there for a moment, never once having slept so restfully.

A sense of calm coursed through her like the morning mist rolling off the sea. As she continued to wake, she blinked, eyes recognizing the cabin—Killian's cabin.

The slight surprise woke her even more, realizing where she was, and only made her realize even more where she ended up.

Or, more accurately, with whom.

Emma quickly realized the warmth was in fact Killian, who was lying on his back, and she had somehow come to use him as a pillow. Her face was resting against his chest, feeling every slow rise and fall of his breathing. Their hands were intertwined over him, and his left arm was wrapped snugly around her back, holding her close. His head was lying against hers, his nose buried in her hair.

Emma felt herself smile, turning a little to see him.

He was still asleep, his eyes shut, his face so peaceful. She was so used to seeing the intricate expressions in his face, so often a tortured sort of pain that held every one of his years that didn't show in his appearance otherwise.

But in sleep, it was all erased, leaving behind the person Emma has come to know. Holding every bit of the sort of innocence and the hope that had been in his voice last night.

Hope that had wrapped around her own heart, just as warm as Killian's embrace.

"I'd like to see the world with you, love."

Emma couldn't think of anything she'd want to do more, nor anyone better to do so with.

She was becoming more and more certain that Henry was right, that happy endings have returned.

And Killian was hers.

Emma smiled, eyes still on his face, and slowly, she untangled her fingers from his, using them instead to brush the hair over his forehead where it had fallen.

He shifted at her touch, though didn't wake, and Emma felt his arm pull her closer to him, making a soft giggle escape her—which surprised even her, because she can't remember the last time she'd made such a sound—if ever. Never would she have thought, when she'd met Captain Hook in the Enchanted Forest, that he'd be one for cuddling. Nor that she'd adore being the one in his arms.

Seems he's hidden his true self away the same way she has for nearly his whole life.

Yet, as she watched him, his brows twitched, and his eyes opened. It took him a moment to come to wakefulness, a softness to his face even before he did, like the sense of calm she'd woken with enveloped him as well. But his eyes fell to their clasped hands first, surprise jumping into his eyes before they snapped to her, still looking at him, her smile only wider.

And the look that overcame him, this expression between joy and disbelief, sent a warmth that touched every nerve in Emma's body.

"Morning," whispered Emma through her smile, and his widened. He lifted his hand from hers, brushing her hair behind her ear, and it made a heat touch Emma's cheeks, realizing he'd unknowingly done the exact same gesture she'd just done with him. His thumb settled on her cheek, brushing over her skin. With a grin that held a hint of the pirate in him, he said, "Your father's going to kill me."

Emma laughed, laying her head back on his chest, his hand falling to her back as she settled back into the comfort of his warmth. "Maybe we should just run away now," she mused.

It was his turn to laugh, his fingers running through her hair. "Aye, aye, captain." he whispered, kissing her hair. They were quiet for a moment, simply basking in each other, when he said, "I like waking up to you."

Emma's fingers played with the collar of his shirt, and she hummed. "Me, too," she agreed softly. "Worth having David chase you around town for it?" she joked.

"Sweetheart, you are worth it and more." he said with another kiss to the top of her head, his voice holding every bit of sincerity. Her eyes opened, finding his. "I'd do absolutely anything to be with you." he said softly, eyes holding an unwavering truth, a devotion.

And it made her eyes burn a little, because no one, not one soul, has ever said anything like that to her before.

"So would I," she whispered back, smiling, and he returned it, pulling her to him for a kiss, and Emma never wanted to leave this bed.

But some reality slipped in between kisses, and Emma pulled away, seeing the absolute boyish grin on his face, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, and Emma smiled at it. She sat up a little, and he loosened his arms instantly to let her, and it would never cease being absolutely touching how much he respected her comfort zone.

"Regina's dropping Henry off at the loft this afternoon." she said, biting her lip. "I think it might be a good idea to… tell him about us," she said, eyes flicking to his.

Killian grinned, slipping his left arm to fold behind his head. "Tell him what exactly?"

But Emma lifted her brow, setting her jaw a little at the very Hook-like expression on his face, something she could only describe as shit-eating. "You just want to hear me say it, don't you." she deadpanned.

His grin grew.

He wasn't going to be the one to say it, to give them any sort of a title, placing nearly every piece of control into her hands, and hers alone.

She would never, ever get over just how much he seemed to understand her.

For so long, commitment was a terrifying thing. She hadn't dated a single person since Neal, and never thought she would again.

But this was different. He was different.

And she suddenly didn't have that fear anymore.

So Emma leaned back over him, saying through her own grin, "That I have a very sexy pirate boyfriend."

And it made the expression of his fade a little, traded for surprise, like he hadn't expected her to truly say it.

To commit.

But it only faltered for a second, returning with something that mixed rich genuinity into mischief, an expression he could trademark, and he brushed her hair behind her ear again. "I do hope that is how you phrase it to the lad."

Emma laughed, kissing him again before untangling herself from him. Back on their feet, Emma said, "It's… it's probably better if I go home… myself," she said, wincing a little at both the idea and the chill of it. "I'd rather David doesn't kill you."

"I'm a survivor, love," he said, thumb brushing over her cheek again. "No need to worry about me."

Emma smiled from the heat at his touch. "I prefer not testing that theory more than once in a week." she said wryly. "How about you meet me and Henry at Granny's in an hour for lunch?"

He smiled, kissing her once more, softly. "As you wish." he whispered.

She smiled right back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Despite Emma's insistence that he didn't have to, Killian walked her home, kissing her on the cheek at the end of the block with a whisper to see her soon. Yet when he walked away, even just for the short time it will be, it still felt like a part of her had gone with him.

But remembering Henry, Emma climbed the stairs to the loft.

She opened the door cautiously, praying that no one was home, because all of a sudden she felt the distinct sense of the walk of shame. She slowly poked her head in…

…to find the loft empty.

She breathed out in relief at avoiding another awkward conversation.

There was a note on the table, however, and Emma picked it up.

Morning Emma!

David and I will be gone most of the afternoon to plan how we're going to restore the Kingdom. See you later!

- Mary Margaret

P.S. David convinced himself you took a very long walk alone last night. But I hope you two had a wonderful time. You deserve it.

Emma felt both a wince and a smile touch her face at the bottom of the note, but something hollow settled into her chest. As much as she'd worried that she'd have to have an awkward conversation with Mary Margaret and David about last night, the fact that they weren't here for it felt… empty.

And not for the first time, she wished things were different between them.

But a knock at the door shook away the thoughts, and Emma threw the note in the trash before answering it.

Regina was standing behind it, with Henry at her side. "Good morning," said Regina, lips in a tight smile. But this time, it wasn't because of forced kindness. It was more uncomfortable, it was trying.

"Morning," said Emma, a genuine smile. It certainly felt good to be on the same page with Regina now, and the fact that the woman gave up the throne for Henry made Emma realize just how much she did care for Henry.

"Morning!" said Henry excitedly. But his brows kneaded as he looked at Emma, saying confusedly, "Weren't you wearing that yesterday?"

Heat rushed to Emma's cheeks.

And Regina's lifted brow at that only made it worse.

"You hungry?" asked Emma instead to Henry.

He smiled. "Starving!"

"Good," said Emma, ruffling his hair. "We're meeting your Captain at Granny's in a little bit."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Awesome!" He then quickly hugged Regina with a "Bye, Mom!" and zipped up the stairs with a shout of, "I'm gonna get ready!"

Emma laughed a little, and Regina had a little amused tilt to her lips as well, surprising Emma to see it. "Henry spent half the night talking about Hook," said Regina wryly. "You two seem to be getting… close."

Emma's face flushed even hotter.

But Regina's expression softened a little, saying, "He also told us what really happened in New York." Emma barely caught the flinch before it showed. "Give the pirate my thanks for protecting Henry." Emma felt a little of the smile of hers come back, at the acceptance for Killian spreading through everyone. "I am glad you're all right, Miss. Swan." A pause, then, "Emma."

"Thanks," whispered Emma, stunned by the gesture.

And the honesty in the woman's eyes.

With a goodbye, Regina left, and Emma closed the door.

After getting changed and freshening up, spending more time on her clothing choice and her hair than she has in years, Emma found Henry fitting his storybook into his backpack.

"Hey, kid," she said, sitting on the edge of his bed, next to his backpack. "Can I ask you something?"

He finished zipping his backpack, looking at her, brows lifting at the slight nervousness in her voice. Brows kneading, he said, "Yeah, anything."

"How do you feel about the idea of me…" She trailed off, fingers fidgeting with each other. Life was a lot easier when she had walls to block the emotions.

However easier, it wasn't better.

"The idea of…?" prompted Henry.

Emma took a breath. Swallowing, she said, "The idea of… me… dating someone?"

His brows soared. "You're dating someone?"

Emma bit her lip.

"You are!" he said at her expression, smiling wide. "Who is it?"

Biting her lip harder, Emma hesitantly said, "...Hook."

The moment Hook left her mouth, Henry froze.

Emma suddenly felt dread in her chest.

Until Henry broke out in the biggest grin she's ever seen him wear.

And relief coursed through her, making her smile too.

"Is that… okay with you?" asked Emma, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

"Okay?!" exclaimed Henry, shooting to his feet. "It's more than okay! It's awesome!"

Emma's smile reached her eyes. "You like him a lot too, huh," she mused through her smile.

"He's so cool," gushed Henry, only making Emma's smile wider. But his smile softened a little, into that maturity that no other eleven-year-old had, and he said, "Just for the record, I'm okay with anything that makes you happy."

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, pulling Henry into her arms, hugging him tight. He hugged her back just as tightly. "I love you so much, kid," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he said right back. "But I really am hungry."

Emma laughed, pulling back, feeling a weight lifted off her chest. "All right, let's go," she said, standing and Henry gathered his backpack.

And Emma had a feeling she wasn't the only one about to feel even lighter.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Killian didn't expect the level of nervousness he currently felt, leaning against the fence outside the 'Granny's' tavern.

Yesterday, he'd been tentative enough when it was Emma's parents' approval of him on the line, something he still couldn't quite believe he'd earned (earned to a point). For he was certain that if he did happen upon the prince any time soon, he'd be getting another fist to the face, or at least a glare that packed just as much of a punch. But Killian was not against Emma having a protective father—the more people to protect her, in his mind, the better. Though he was set to remain firmly at the top of that list.

However, the idea of getting Emma's child's approval…

…was something entirely different.

Killian knew by now—something that still stunned him to no end—that Henry was a fan of him. That night in New York had created a palpable bond between the three of them, something Killian felt to his core. He'd protect both of them with his life, again and again and again.

But just because Henry liked him, didn't necessarily mean he thought he was good enough for his mother, or that he even liked the idea of anyone being with his mother.

And it only flashed him back to Neverland, to the few months he'd had Baelfire aboard. Certainly now that Killian knew the extent of what Baelfire did as an adult tainted his image of the boy, for he never would have thought the boy was capable of something as heartless as what he did to Emma.

Hell, when he met Baelfire, the young lad had told him he'd only ended up in Neverland to save another child from the same fate.

And with a sharp stab of guilt, Killian wondered if his terrible decision to let Bae into Pan's clutches had played a part in the terrible man he'd become.

But as someone who had been wronged by many people, and for many years had firmly placed the blame in the hands of others for the man Hook had become, Killian had gained quite a bit of wisdom over his many years. At some point, one's choices are his own and the man one becomes is his own doing. Killian would forever feel the guilt of how he handled his relationship with young Bae, but as far as he was concerned, the man Baelfire grew into had zero excuses when it came to how he treated Emma.

Killian had, however, been with Baelfire, been someone the lad had looked up to for quite some time, and it had felt so good. When he'd told Bae that he would make good on Milah's and his plan to go back for him, to raise Bae as his own, he'd been truthful. In that moment, his care for the boy had rivaled his need for revenge.

It made him realize just how much he wanted a child in his life.

To now have Henry look at him the same way that Bae did in those first few weeks…

Killian took a breath, shutting his eyes.

He would not make the same mistake twice.

He's come to care for Henry even more than he'd once cared for Bae, in such a shorter amount of time, and the fact that Henry was Bae's son was something Killian still couldn't exactly wrap his head around.

This was Killian's chance to make up for what he should have done all those years ago.

As well as for him to gain something he'd never thought was still a possibility for him: happiness.

Emma and Henry were his purpose, his future, and it was brighter than he could have ever imagined.

Killian was only waiting a few minutes before he saw Emma and Henry. He straightened.

"Captain!" cried Henry, running toward him, giving him a hug just as big as the one he'd given him yesterday.

And it would never not take him by surprise, warming his chest as he settled his hand on the boy's shoulder, smiling. "Nice to see you again as well, lad."

Over Henry's head, Killian looked at Emma, giving her a little unsure expression, to which Emma bit her lip. "I… already told him," she admitted.

Killian expression went blank in shock.

Henry knew?

And he…

…embraced him?

Henry pulled back then, giving Killian a huge grin. "I think it's awesome that you and Mom are together!"

Killian blinked in shock. "You… do?" he breathed.

"What isn't awesome about it?" he asked, brows kneaded in honest confusion.

Killian couldn't remember how to speak.

"Does this mean I get my own cabin on the Jolly Roger?" asked Henry eagerly. "Can we go sailing every day? Can we—"

"Take it easy, kid," said Emma with a smile. "How about you start with getting us a table?"

"On it!" said Henry excitedly, running inside.

Killian still felt utterly frozen.

Henry approved of him.

Him.

Emma's hand suddenly slipped into his, tearing his attention from his shock. She was smiling at him. "He's almost as happy about us as I am," she said softly.

And more shock was flooding in, at Emma's openness, the fact that her emotions were so free.

He smiled. "No one more than I," he whispered, kissing her something soft and quick. He watched color touch the tip of her nose, and he smiled.

Emma smiled too.

And Killian would never stop being awed by it, a smile that he'd never seen from her before New York. Her smile had always had a reason, it was a wall of its own, never from joy.

This one was so open and free and it was the way a smile was supposed to be: to show happiness.

And the fact that he seemed to be eliciting this rare smile from her was something he only wanted to do more and more.

They both walked inside, seeing Henry at one of the tables by the window. As they entered, a few of the patrons looked up at the sound of the door chime, and at the sight of him, he saw at least half of them tense, like a reflex. But as one, relaxed, and Killian didn't exactly know how to handle such acceptance and approval from so many people.

He didn't deserve it, but he would cherish it for the rest of his days.

Emma and Hook slid into the seat across from where Henry was sitting.

When they did, Henry was already sipping a drink from a mug. "I ordered for us," said Henry. "Grilled cheese for you," said Henry to Emma.

"With—" she began, but Henry just smiled and said, "Onion rings, got it."

Lifting a brow to Emma, he asked, "Cooked… cheese?"

Emma again tried to hide a smile. "When you put it like that, the name is pretty misleading." she said with a furrow of her brows. "Bread and cheese, pretty much, is what it is."

"I ordered the Captain a hamburger," said Henry with a wide grin.

Killian opened his mouth to question it, but Emma just put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Bread and meat." At the furrow in Killian's own brow, she said, "We put pretty much everything we can on bread. Welcome to America."

Not long after Emma and Henry attempted explaining this America and the basic geography of this realm, making him even more curious about exploring it further, their food arrived.

Killian had to admit, he'd been unsure about the new foods—he'd fished for his food while he'd been in town—but he was pleasantly surprised with the tastes. The 'french fries' that Henry dove into first were quite delectable.

After they ate, Henry looked at Killian. "Captain?"

"I appreciate the respect, lad," said Killian with a grin, "but you're free to call me Killian, if you'd like." And it was strange, saying his name, not having spoken it, introduced himself, as Killian since he was nearly Henry's age.

Henry seemed to think about it for half a second, but shook his head. "It's more fun to call you Captain." he said with a grin, making Killian and Emma laugh.

"Aye, then," he said.

"Can I ask you some questions?" asked Henry.

"Anything you'd like," said Killian honestly.

Henry unzipped his backpack and pulled out a large book. "The storybook doesn't say a lot about your life," he said, putting the book on the table, opening it to a page that Henry seemed to know by heart. Killian felt his brows shoot up, seeing a distinctly accurate painting of him at the wheel of the Jolly Roger, displaying his hook. Briefly, Killian realized this must have been the book that Henry referred to having seen his ship.

At Killian's surprise, Emma said, "The book is magic. It includes real life events of pretty much everyone who lives in town."

A magic book that features him?

Suddenly that was a worrisome idea, for too much of his life was less than… good.

And just as suddenly, he felt a cold fear at the idea of Emma knowing just what he's done in his life. She's forgiven what he's done since she's known him, but what he's done, period?

His chest suddenly hurt.

"All it says about you," said Henry, "is how you lost your hand," Killian felt himself tense a little, his left arm flinching, "and that you went to Neverland. It doesn't really say a lot about you, or Peter Pan."

Besides the initial relief of what the book lacked about him, the sheer name of the little devil made him tense, and Emma felt it. "Right," said Emma with a sigh. "He's real too, huh? Annoying kid?" she asked with a little grin.

"More like a little bloody devil," muttered Killian.

"The happy-go-lucky kid who just wants to stay young forever?" asked Emma, brows raising.

"The real Peter Pan isn't like the Disney Peter Pan," said Henry with a little seriousness.

"Disney?" echoed Killian.

"Wait, seriously?" asked Emma. Henry turned a page, and she saw a very dark drawing of a boy that looked quite more sinister than the Peter Pan from the film she's seen dozens of times. "Did Disney get anything right?" Emma asked Henry.

"What's 'Disney'?" asked Killian again, looking between them.

Emma lifted her head, looking at him. "Um, long story short, it's where I first heard of fairytale stuff." At his continued puzzlement, she said, "It's what I believed about Jack and the Beanstalk before you told me what actually happened."

"Sounds like a lovely tale. But the real story is a bit more gruesome."

"Ah," said Killian. Looking back at the book, he lifted his brow. "You're saying," he said slowly, "that in this realm, my story is considered a fairytale?"

"Everyone's, actually." said Emma. "Disney made a bunch of movies—" Killian's brow lifted. Emma looked to Henry, like she didn't know how to explain it.

"Moving pictures that look like real life, kinda like a theatre show but as drawings," supplied Henry.

"Yeah, that," said Emma with a smile. "They're usually made for kids to watch. One of them is yours."

His brow lifted more. "So you've known of me since you were young?"

"Uh, a version of you," said Emma, looking like she was trying not to smile.

"Most have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker: Hook."

"As in… Captain Hook?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me."

"That was how you'd heard of me when we met?" asked Killian in disbelief. He'd simply guessed his reputation had preceded him.

"Yeah," said Emma with that smile. "But the, um, movie-version of you looks nothing like you." At more of his confusion, she said, "It's a compliment, believe me."

But Henry smiled a wry grin, saying, "We gotta have a movie night."

Killian still didn't quite understand what that meant—as well as not exactly keen on seeing this less-handsome version of himself—but anything with these two was something he wanted to do.

"When you were in Neverland, did you see mermaids and sirens and stuff?" asked Henry eagerly.

"Too many," said Hook honestly. "They're some of the most vile creatures I've come across."

"Mermaids?" echoed Emma. "Mermaids are evil now?"

"You've a lot to learn," said Killian, smiling.

Henry turned a few pages, as if looking for something, but Killian caught something on one of the pages that made him say, "What's this?"

Henry looked at him, then turned back the page as if to see what Killian saw, and when he did, Henry grinned. "Mom's story," he said, looking from the page displaying a painted scene of what looked like the Prince, holding a swaddled baby, a name stitched in the cloth reading Emma.

And Killian suddenly realized he knew very little about Emma's story.

All he did know was that Emma was some sort of Savior, that she'd grown up alone outside the curse that froze everyone in town for thirty years, including her parents. It was certainly something he was sure was strange: to meet one's parents and be of the same physical age.

"May I hear this story?" he asked tentatively, eyes on Emma, not wanting to push the vulnerability she's already given so much of.

She met his eyes, the interest in them, and she smiled hesitant permission, like it touched her that he wanted to know.

"It's my favorite story of all," said Henry with a grin, and Killian saw Emma's lips widen, the smile becoming a little less hesitant. Pointing to the picture, where David's expression was grim, Henry said, "Mom was born the night the Dark Curse was enacted. She was prophesied to be the Savior, the one to break the curse." Henry turned the page, displaying David setting baby Emma in a wardrobe—something that rang a bell, as the one Cora had taken the ashes from for its enchantment. "Emma wouldn't be able to break the Curse if she got swept up in it too, so Grandma and Grandpa had to send her through the wardrobe to this world so she could meet her destiny…"

With a wide grin to Emma, Henry went on, explaining the story of how he received the storybook and found Emma in a village he called Boston. The tale was quite incredible, and Killian only thought more and more what a tough lass Emma truly was. It also filled in many of the holes in his understanding—why Regina had ended up with Henry, why Emma was this Savior, and how Emma had ended up in the Enchanted Forest.

Back then, on the Beanstalk, Killian had known Emma was trying to get back to her child, but only now he understood just how important, how strong her mission truly had been.

And more than that, hearing her story only reminded him of just how far they'd come.

And from the smile on her lips, and the way her fingers tightened around his, she felt just the same.

"I'm still jealous Mom and Grandma got to see the Enchanted Forest," said Henry, tucking the storybook back into his backpack.

"Jealous?" echoed Emma with a lift of her brow. "Kid, the place was crawling with killer ogres."

"Cool," breathed Henry.

Emma just shook her head and Killian laughed.

But Emma looked at Killian before looking back at Henry, saying, "Well, when the beans are ready… I'm sure your Captain wouldn't mind taking us on some adventures."

Henry's eyes widened. "Really?!"

"Aye," said Killian, smiling at Henry's enthusiasm.

"Can we start with today?" asked Henry eagerly. "I wanna go sailing!" To Emma— "Can we?!"

"I don't see why not," said Emma, trading a smile with Killian. She released Killian's fingers, reaching for something, then cursed under her breath. "I forgot my cash in the car," she said.

But Killian straightened. "I can pay, love," he said.

But Emma rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Granny's doesn't take doubloons." Standing, she said, "I'll be right back."

Emma walked outside, smiling to herself.

The afternoon couldn't get more perfect.

She found her car where she parked it at the corner, since apparently everyone was at Granny's today, and she grabbed her wallet from the center console. She shut her door, about to head back to the diner when she heard something that sent an icy chill down her spine, making her freeze.

"Emma?"

She whipped around, jaw dropping because she knew that voice, absolute dread filling her chest, mixing with the shock.

But her ears weren't wrong.

He was standing there, right behind her.

Here.

In Storybrooke.

It couldn't be.

Neal.

-.-.-.-.-.

A/N:

So it’s been brought to my attention that not everyone is happy to have Neal in this story, and the last thing I would want to do is taint this story. I honestly wrote it as a oneshot and never intended to continue it past a chapter or two, and now here we are and it’s become a really special story for me, and it means a lot that you guys like it too. I still want to continue this story, but I don’t want to ruin this story for the people who aren’t fans of Neal (even though this story will continuously be anti-Neal, and Neal will only be in it temporarily). 

So, I’m going to continue this story in a sequel story instead. :)

This story has sort of become a what-if that I started planning to take through different arcs of the show. Not all of them, but I had an idea for one that I was pretty excited about, but Neal will be a temporary character in it. This arc will include some conflict and angst (no love triangle crap or anything like that though). But in typical OUAT fashion, crises happen. And as much fun as the fluff and comfort has been to write, I’ve been itching to throw some conflict in there to not only strengthen Emma’s and Killian’s relationship (ensuing more h/c and fluff later), but to fix Emma’s relationship with her parents as well, something I wish had happened in the actual show. If I didn't have this next part, I would have ended this story about a chapter ago, but I'm not quite ready to give it up just yet. I fully intend for captain swan to have a happy ending, but I’m having a lot of fun playing with this what-if idea and seeing what could change in canon. But the last thing I want is to ruin it with more conflict for those who don’t want it.

So, for now, I’ll leave this story as it is, but when I post that sequel story, I’ll update a chapter here (another a/n) so you know when to look for it if you want to continue along for the ride. When I post the sequel, I’ll delete the very last section of Chapter 7 in this story, where Neal comes in, as well as Chapter 8, and put them in the sequel story instead. That way, if you want to skip how I’m going to continue this story, you can imagine that as the ending of this story.

Writing this story has been one of the most fun times in my fanfic-writing experience, so I definitely wouldn’t want to taint it or anything for anyone, but I definitely still want to play with these versions of the characters. So thank you guys so much for reading and for all your kind comments and your encouragement to keep the story going—you’re the reason it’s still here :) 

See you with the sequel soon! 

tag list: @teamhook @jrob64 @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @fleurdepetite @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @sotangledupinit

[themattress]

Inspired by this post, I wanted to reiterate a view I’ve long held.

Redemption at its core is a three-step process: feel remorse for the wrong you’ve done, commit to stop doing wrong, and commit to start doing right. And while it’s mostly possible for any villainous character to do this, the question is whether it’s plausible based on how the villainous character is established and written...and if it’s plausible, would it still make sense if they don’t do it? Once Upon a Time’s redeemed mainstay villains provide great examples: 

Regina and Zelena - NOT PLAUSIBLE.

Whether you like these characters and their redemptions or not, the fact is that the writers royally fucked up when it came to establishing them in their debut story arcs. Regina was established as a warped psychopath who is willing to kill her own father to enact a horrible curse that will grant her total control over the eternally miserable population of an entire realm solely because she irrationally blames a child for her boyfriend’s death and can’t feel happy unless said child, now grown-up, is “punished”. The only hint at a possible redemption was her love for her adopted son Henry, and even that eventually went out the window in the following story arc where a brief attempted redemption was followed by her being even worse than she was before in both flashbacks and the present day! Zelena, meanwhile, had power in Oz and could have had it good there, but she was so obsessively jealous of the sister she’d never met and lustful over their mutual magic teacher that she would uproot time itself just to ensure Regina was never born and that she would be the one to cast the Dark Curse for Rumple; still not explaining how she’d get around the whole “she’d have to crush his heart to do it” factor which was why Rumple rejected her in favor of Regina in the first place. Oh, and both of these ladies are straight-up rapists, with Regina even murdering her rape victim.

So the problem with the Mills Sisters and their redemption is that it is totally dependent on them just...changing their established characters on a dime. In Season 3 and Season 5 respectively, they’re still not good people at the start but are suddenly psychologically stable and totally fine with working with the good guys in pursuit of a mutual goal. This makes them plausibly redeemable, but it also makes them wildly different characters than they were previously shown to be. The trick worked on many viewers, but it also failed on many others, or it worked in regards to one of them but not in regards to the other. For my money, I find redeemed Zelena to be more tolerable since didn’t backtrack as much nor was she rewarded for her redemption far beyond what she deserved, but both her and Regina were not the kinds of characters who could feasibly be redeemed in their initial two seasonal story arcs.

Rumpelstiltskin - PLAUSIBLE, BUT UNLIKELY.

From the beginning, many people said that contrary to Regina, Rumple was established in Season 1 as a character who would plausibly be redeemed. His backstory, certain character traits, and motivation for his role in the Dark Curse certainly made him more appealing than Regina. However, I never felt that plausibility meant that it was likely with Rumple. The whole point of his character seemed to be that yes, he could be a better man than he is, but he actively chooses not to be because he’s a selfish, power-hungry coward. And he was one even as a struggling peasant and single father, something he flat-out admits. Many people point to his desire to find his son and make amends with him as altruistic, but it really isn’t, especially when not only is he willing to do horrible things (the same kind of horrible things that drove his son away to begin with) to make it happen just to alleviate his own guilt, but he isn’t willing to achieve this goal without also working in a means for him to keep his power, which was what the whole True Love Potion thing was about. The best that Rumple could ever hope for was a Redemption Equals Death rather than a living, continuous redemption.

Oh, yeah. That happened.

Captain Hook - PLAUSIBLE AND LIKELY.

Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook, was introduced as a pirate with an honor code who then had his lover murdered in front of him and his hand chopped off for good measure. This drove him to become a ruthless, dishonorable seeker of vengeance, willing to stop at nothing to get what he wants and caring for no-one and nothing else. And the more we see of him, the more apparent it becomes that there is a deep well of self-loathing underneath the surface: it’s because he believes he’s a wretch doomed to both an unhappy life and an unhappy afterlife that he is able to shut off his conscience and honor and positive emotions. In his depressed, nihilistic worldview, nothing matters except getting his revenge and then dying to suffer the consequences of all the wrongs he’s committed in pursuit of it. And that perfectly sets up the question of what would happen if that worldview was challenged, and if he realized that happiness and salvation were still possible and that seeking revenge is what’s keeping him miserable? Answer: he’d feel remorse, stop doing evil, and commit himself to doing good.

Hook’s redemption is plausible and sensible because unlike the Mills Sisters, the object of his revenge is someone who actually wronged him, and the hurting of other people caught in the crossfire stems from a place of misery and self-loathing rather than from a sadistic sense of satisfaction from hurting others. And unlike Rumple, his redemption is likely because he’s not a coward, and his ruthless selfishness is a flaw we see him develop and can thus believe he can un-develop too rather than being a central component of his character from the start. Rumple stans point to him bullying peasant Rumple when the latter is pleading for his wife back in his formal introductory scene, which ignores that he gives Rumple the chance to fight honorably, doesn’t hurt him when he refuses and allows him to leave his ship totally unscathed, and later admits that if Rumple had just fought him he’d have let him talk it out with Milah. Him being kind of a jerk about it is because he’s a freaking pirate captain, it’s part of the job description. Hook is hands-down the least evil of the mainstay villains, and him joining the good guys and becoming the heroine’s love interest was an organic development.