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[todaysbird]

the reveal

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 3/9

In celebration of the one year anniversary of my first @cssns fic, I’m reposting a chapter a day until my 2019 drop date, especially since each chapter has never been posted to tumblr before. Amazing art above done by the talented @shipsxahoy.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rating: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this tag list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @xhookswenchx

Chapter Two

Whenever The Essex made port, Killian always felt a pull deep inside of himself. There was, of course, the energy pulsing from everyone on board, as well as the cacophony of sounds. Docking a ship this size was no easy feat, and all hands were needed. The creaking of wood, splashing of waves, and the slapping of sails were all magnified as the large vessel was maneuvered into port. Added to that were the sights, sounds, and smells of whatever portside town they were approaching.

But for Killian, it was more than that. He loved the sea, the same as his brother and his father. Salt water was in his veins, as the old expression said, and there was something calming about the moon reflected on the glassy surface of a calm sea. Something invigorating when an entire crew battled the crashing waves.

And yet . . . there was another part of him that yearned for the feel of soil and grass between his toes. A part of him that missed the sight of sunlight filtering through tree branches and the cool feel of bark beneath his palm. He sometimes felt torn in two.

On this particular day, Killian felt a tug towards the forest that hugged the tiny village where they had docked. His bare feet slapped against the wet wood of the deck as he surged forward when the gangplank was lowered. But before he could descend, a gnarled hand grabbed him across the chest and pulled him back.

“And where do ya think ya be goin, lad?” snarled the Captain.

“Shore leave,” Killian answered, tilting his head back to look up at the wizened old man. He glanced over at Liam, who shook his head wearily. His brother clearly had a look of frustration on his face.

“And risk ya runnin’ off like last time? You belong to me, boy.”

“I didn’t run off!” Killian argued, his eyes darting between the captain and his brother. “I just wanted to go to the woods, that’s all. To play.”

Liam stepped forward then and wrapped an arm around Killian’s shoulder. “See, sir? He’s only nine. He just wants to run and play.”

“Run is the part that worries me,” the man scowled. “You both are my property, so the answer is no.” He stooped and fished a dirty rag from a bucket near the railing, then tossed it at the boys. “And there’s plenty to do while she’s docked. So get to it.”

Killian tried to be brave; he really did. He knew every tear he shed only made his brother’s own pain worse. But he couldn’t hold back the sniffles as he bent to swab the deck on his hands and knees.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” Liam whispered, giving his shoulder a light squeeze, “we’ll get these chores out of the way, and then the captain will have a change of heart. You’ll see.”

But it didn’t work out that way. There was always another chore to be done, and waiting for the captain to have a change of heart was like waiting for the sea to run dry. The most Killian was allowed to do was run up and down the docks and play in the tide pools beneath the pilings. Even then, the captain was there shouting for him to come back aboard before he had much chance to get a good game going or make a friend with a village child.

He also never got a chance to see her. He got a glimpse one afternoon as he played in the dirty sand, trying to catch a crab on the end of a stick. The little crustacean scuttled into the water, and as Killian watched it swim away . . . there she was. She normally wore green, but here in the surf she wore a dress of filmy white.

“Killian,” she smiled, her green eyes sparkling. But just as he straightened and went to run into her outstretched arms, he heard his name again. This time shouted from the docks overhead. He hesitated for a moment.

“Killian!! You good-for-nothing little rat! Where’ve you run off to?”

“Go on,” she told him softly, “it’s okay. I’ll see you tonight, remember?”

Killian grinned at her promise and then took off. It wasn’t as much time as they had when he’d managed to get away to the forest, but for now, it would have to do. They were setting sail this very morning.

He dashed as fast as he could down the boardwalk and up the gangplank to the ship. He was surprised when he got on board to find most of the crew gathered against the far railing, leaning over, jostling, and shouting.

“I saw her, I swear I did!” shouted the boatswain, pointing down the beach.

“What?” Killian asked, hopping up and down trying to see over the men. He ducked beneath legs to try and get closer to the railing, but he kept getting shoved back. “What did he see?”

“The ghost,” the third mate finally answered him. He was one of the few on board who treated Killian and Liam with kindness, and he hunched down to look the nine year old in the eye. “Sailors tend to be superstition. Don’t let it worry you, lad.”

“Ain’t no superstition!” the boatswain argued. When he grinned down at Killian, there was a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I seen her many times. Every port we come to, there she be, haunting the docks. One minute she be there, the next, she’s vanished into thin air!”

The third mate shook his head. “Sea foam and fog, nothing more.”

“With pretty red hair and a haunting song?”

Killian gasped at the boatswain’s description. Liam was suddenly behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder and clapping a hand to his mouth. Killian squirmed in his brother’s grip, scowling up at him.

“He gets scared real easy,” Liam explained to the crew, “so can we not talk about this?”

The boatswain chuckled and leaned towards the boys. “She’s a heartbroken window, haunting the docks for her long-lost husband. And any sailor she fancies, she grabs him and yanks him down to Davy Jones’ locker.”

The man clenched his hand in a fist right in Killian’s face to emphasize his point, and the entire crew laughed uproariously. Killian wrenched free from his brother’s grasp.

“That’s not true! She wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

The crew exchanged confused looks, and Liam rushed forward.

“My brother has a vivid imagination,” he chuckled as he pulled Killian towards the hatch that led below deck. Killian kept fighting him, even as he hauled him down the ladder.

“It’s mum, Liam! They’re talking about mum!”

“Shut up!” Liam shouted, shoving Killian so hard that he fell with a crash into the barrels of rations lining the far wall. Killian bit his lip, trying to keep back his tears as he gazed up at his brother in shock. Liam’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. “I’m so sorry, little brother, I didn’t mean to . . .”

Killian jerked away from his brother’s extended arms, turning and curling in on himself. He buried his face in the circle of his arms as the tears could no longer be held at bay. Liam reached out hesitantly and put an arm around him.

“I just can’t talk about her anymore,” Liam whispered. “You’re all I’ve got, and I can’t . . . I don’t . . . She only comes to you, and I guess I know why, but it . . . it makes me so angry!”

Killian turned towards Liam and threw his skinny arms around him. Liam was right. They were all each other hand.

Tauriel still “haunted” every port; still visited Killian in the night. But that was the last day he ever spoke of her. To Liam or to anyone else.

******************************************************

Storybrooke had become a sleepy little town in the five years since Emma and Killian’s wedding. So sleepy that patrolling was often a boring chore of traffic violations and warnings about jaywalking. Occasionally there was a truant teenager or a disorderly drunk. Emma constantly made Mayberry jokes. Which she of course had to explain to her husband.

Emma was relieved on this particular morning that the town was so peaceful. Her eyes were scanning the alleyways and sidewalks of main street as her yellow bug rolled slowly along, but her mind was elsewhere. Mainly on her husband. His hurt and sadness was completely understandable to her. In many ways his situation with his mother reminded her of those early years with her own parents. Her mind had understood why they had sent her away, but all her heart understood was the abandonment. As Killian himself had once said, the wounds of childhood lingered.

“Hello there, love.”

Emma grinned as Killian’s voice came through the static of the walkie talkie. She snatched it from the passenger’s seat and pressed the button.

“Still not using talkie code, Deputy. Over.”

His responding chuckle sounded odd through the static. “A deputy must wax eloquent when his sheriff is exquisitely beautiful. Over.”

Emma rolled her eyes although he couldn’t see her.

“And I know you’re rolling your eyes at me, Swan.”

Emma laughed at that. The way he read her was even more uncanny five years into marriage. “That’s Sheriff Jones, Deputy Jones. And I’m heading back into the station. Over and out.”

Emma set the walkie talkie down on the dashboard as she rolled slowly to a stop at the traffic light right beside the park. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red hair. There, along the tree line, stood Tauriel Jones. Her mother-in-law. The woman fixed her gaze on Emma. Emma pressed her lips together in a firm line as she pulled the bug over and parallel parked. It was eerie the way the woman could communicate with a look, and it was clear she wanted to chat with her daughter-in-law.

Actually, everything about Tauriel was eerie. The fact that she wasn’t really alive, for one. Emma was constantly calling her a ghost, and Killian was constantly correcting her. But the last time Emma checked, “not fully alive” meant a ghost. The whole “not fully dead” thing was still confusing.

Tauriel had shown up in Storybrooke about five years ago when Emma and Killian were engaged. Killian said he hadn’t seen her since right before Regina cast the curse. Emma could see in his eyes that the timing bothered him for some reason, but she hadn’t pressed him about it. At any rate, his mom showing up had thrown them both for a loop. Killian had issues with the woman, that was certain. And then there was the bomb dropped on Emma that her husband was a Dunedin.

In other words, not fully human. As in, half elf. As in, he was blessed with unnaturally long life. Neverland aside, he most likely would have lived to 200 or so and aged only slightly.

It had been a lot to take in, for sure, but nothing could shake Emma’s love for this man. She would march to the Underworld all over again if she had to. So she was marrying a man who was half-elf, so what? As Killian would tease, it was better than a flying monkey.

In all seriousness, Killian was her true love, no matter what, and she would do just about anything for him. Hence why she was walking across the park to talk to his “mostly dead” mother. She actually chuckled at her own Princess Bride joke.

“Are you laughing at me?” Tauriel asked placidly.

Killian had explained to her once that elves had little, if any, sense of humor. That was definitely an understatement.

“No,” Emma said with a wave of her hand, “I was just thinking about . . . never mind. What’s up?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t as if Tauriel had a lot of time to shoot the breeze. Elves were immortal, Killian had explained, though they could be killed in battle, or . . .

Or they could waste away of a broken heart. And Brennan Jones had been many things, but faithful sure wasn’t one of them.

“You know because of my broken heart, I am cursed to wander the realms.”

Emma nodded, circling with her hand for the elf to get to the point. “Yeah, and I also know you’re gonna get all fuzzy soon and disappear on me, so . . .”

Tauriel gave that tinkling sound that Emma had come to learn was an elf’s laugh. “Aye.” She scratched behind her pointed ear, looking so much like Killian, that it made Emma’s heart ache. He always seemed to think he was like his drunken, dead beat father, but Emma saw so much of him in his mother. “My son is hurting, Emma. And I wish to help him.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “I know, but I just don’t know how you can fix it.”

Tauriel reached forward and grasped Emma’s shoulders. “Yes, he is still angry with me. But that isn’t what I speak of.”

Emma gasped as the hands resting at her shoulders became lighter. She could now see the red leather through the outline of Tauriel’s hand. The woman’s face fell as she realized her time was ending.

“Ask him to give you a child, Emma.”

“I can’t!” Emma cried, surprised that those panicked words were the first ones from her mouth.

“You must. You wonder why you aren’t with child yet. I can see it on you, Emma, the desire to have a child with the man you love. He must will it.”

Emma shook her head as Tauriel faded almost completely away. “What do you mean?”

“An elf must will a child into existence.”

Those were Tauriel’s final words as she disappeared completely. Emma swore under her breath and stomped her foot in frustration.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

***************************************************

“Tauriel wants me to tell her son to knock me up.”

Emma dropped the bomb on her mother causally at lunch right before cramming an onion ring in her mouth. Just as she had anticipated, Snow’s mouth dropped slightly and her fork hovered over her lasagna.

“Um . . . she said that?”

Emma laughed as she dragged another onion ring through ketchup. “Well, not in those exact words.”

Snow took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and dabbed her napkin against her lips before responding. “Well, what was your reaction?”

Emma smiled at her mother as she took a sip of coke. She should have known her mother would respond diplomatically. She was a queen, after all. But then Emma’s face grew serious as she thought about Tauriel’s request.

“It scared me.”

Snow’s brow furrowed. “So you don’t want to have a baby with Killian?”

Emma shook her head, frustrated when tears welled in her eyes. “No, actually, I do.” Emma glanced around nervously, then leaned closer to her mother, “That’s why I went off my birth control pills.”

Snow clasped her hands under her chin. “So you’ve been trying.”

“Not . . . exactly,” Emma hedged as she carefully broke her grilled cheese into two pieces. When she glanced back up at her mother, those identical green eyes were wide.

“Emma,” her mother admonished under her breath, leaning in closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, “do you mean to tell me you went off your birth control pills without talking to him first?”

Like a child caught in a lie, Emma took a huge bite of her sandwich to avoid answering for a moment. When she swallowed, she quickly attempted to explain. “I meant to! It just . . . every time I started to bring it up, I don’t know. I got scared, okay?”

“Oh honey,” Snow replied softly, taking her daughter’s hands in hers, “you must know he wants the same thing.”

“How?” Emma asked, her eyes darting nervously, “How do you know that?”

“Because,” Snow said simply, “I have eyes. I saw how he was with Henry. I see him with the children of Storybrooke. Every kid in this town adores him because he’s putty in their hands. He’s even good with the lost boys at the convent.”

Snow took a few more bites of her lasagna, and Emma did the same with her grilled cheese and onion rings.

“He is good with kids,” Emma finally conceded, “but that doesn’t mean he wants one of his own. Besides Henry, I mean.”

Her mother shrugged one shoulder and gave Emma a teasing smile, “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure, honey. And can I be honest?”

Emma laughed nervously as she gnawed on her lower lip. “Do I have a say?”

Snow laughed too and squeezed her hand. Not letting go, she said, “Emma, sweetheart, it’s a conversation that’s about five years overdue.”

Emma sighed and squeezed her mother’s hand in return. She knew she was right.

*****************************************************

Later that night, Emma exited the bathroom of their master suite, rubbing lotion into her hands as she approached the bed. Killian was sitting up against several throw pillows reading a book, but he eagerly tossed the volume aside when he saw her standing there in nothing but one of his old pirate shirts. He reached his arms out as she drew near, circling her waist. His hand slipped up the back of the shirt to rub her bare skin and his stump rested at her hip. He tilted his face up to hers, and Emma pressed a kiss to his nose. He pulled her down into bed with him, gathering her close to his chest. When they were first married, every touch went from tender to passionate in sixty seconds flat. But as the years waxed on, they had learned to cherish the moments of simple intimacy. The kind that built slowly to a deep molten heat. Not that fast and frenzied wasn’t still fun at times. But they had time to cherish now, and they luxuriated in it.

Emma enjoyed the feel of being in his arms for a moment. Then with a sigh, she sat up next to him, running her fingers through his hair as she spoke.

“I talked to your mother today.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Aye?”

Emma nodded. “She . . . just wanted to make sure you were happy.” She bit her lip, knowing she was dancing around the subject. “Are you? Happy, I mean?”

He sat up a little higher in the bed, seeming vexed about the question. “Of course I am, my love. You doubt it?”

Emma attempted to soothe him by running her thumb along his cheek and then his jaw line. “No, of course not. I just . . . I mean, it does get boring around here.”

Killian laughed and cupped her face. He brushed a kiss against her lips. “After all we’ve suffered, I’m okay with boring. Besides, I prefer to think of it as contentment with family by my side.” He searched her eyes for a moment before adding, “A family, that . . . hopefully, continues to grow?”

She swallowed. It seemed the perfect segue to the topic that, as her mother had said, was five years overdue. But what if he was only referring to Henry giving them grandkids? She decided to test the waters. Emma traced Killian’s ears with her fingertips. Biting her lip and swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she spoke with what she hoped was nonchalance.

“You know, when – if – we have a baby, I hope he has your ears.”

Killian blinked and his jaw fell open. “You . . . are you saying you want to, I mean, that you’d like . . . a baby? With me?”

Emma chuckled nervously, “Who else would I have it with?”

The silence that stretched between them had Emma so nervous, she slid down and snuggled next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his heart. Was it her imagination, or was it pounding in his chest?

“I have a confession to make,” she whispered against his skin, “I stopped taking my birth control pills.”

“You did?” she couldn’t read his voice at all, yet she was too nervous to lift her head and look him in the eye.

“Mhm.”

“How long?”

Emma let out a shuddering breath as she answered, “Two years.”

Killian’s arms tightened around her. “And you’re probably wondering why you still aren’t with child.”

Emma sat up abruptly, her turn to gape at him in shock. “That’s your response? What about the fact that I went off birth control without even discussing it with you?”

“Getting a woman pregnant has never been something I have to worry about,” Killian explained, his eyes darting about the room. “Not that I’m telling you it isn’t possible, it’s just – “

Emma sighed. “Killian, I know. Your mother explained it to me. Sort of.”

“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes finally settling on Emma’s. “That’s what she wanted to talk to you about?”

Emma shrugged. “She said she could tell that I . . . longed to be a mother of your child. Her words.” Emma suddenly found her hands twisting in her lap suddenly fascinating. “And she’s right. But she also said that it would never happen if I didn’t talk to you, which for some reason, I’ve been terrified to do.” She finally looked up, struggling to keep the tears that were rising at bay. “Do you not want kids? Because I thought when you picked out this big house, that it was sort of implied, but then time went on, and you never brought it up, then your mother tells me –“

Killian cut off her words with a swift kiss, pulling her onto his lap. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want a child with you, Emma, more than anything. I guess I was waiting for you to bring it up. I’ve never wanted to push you into anything, including this.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she slipped her arms around his neck. “How do we still suck this bad at communication?”

He laughed as he thumbed her chin, “Long years of loneliness does that to a person, I suppose. But we keep making progress, don’t you think?”

Emma nuzzled against his shoulder. “So, this whole elf conception thing . . . “

Killian’s groan reverberated against her cheek. “An elf – or in my case Dunedin – has to will a child into conception. It’s why you have no need to worry about dozens of my illegitimate children running about the realms.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “So, you do . . . what exactly? To conceive a child, that is?”

Killian shifted beneath her. “I don’t know the biology exactly. All I know is that I have to sort of let a part of myself go when I make love to you. It’s sort of like . . . giving a piece of myself away, if you were.”

“And only male elves have to do this?”

“No, a female does as well. Or both, if it’s two elves,” Killian explained, rubbing her upper arm absent-mindedly.

Emma tilted her head to smile up at him. “Which means your mother wanted you from the start, Killian. She willed you into existence. That’s pretty cool.”

He smiled softly, his gaze a bit distant. “Aye, I suppose you’re right. I never thought of that.”

Emma sat up and shifted, straddling him with a mischievous smile upon her face. “So,” she said teasingly, running her hands through his chest hair, “if you wanted a child, why didn’t you just will it before now?”

She was surprised when Killian’s face actually tinted with a faint blush. “It isn’t exactly something I could do without you . . . er, noticing.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “Will it hurt me?”

Killian smiled a bit cockily, “Oh no, Swan. I have a feeling you will thoroughly enjoy it.”

Emma cocked her head, smiling even more broadly, “Oh really?” She leaned closer to him, her lips hovering just over his. “So, are we doing this?”

Killian just nodded, then pressed his lips to hers. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated, and soon what little clothes they were wearing had been discarded.

Killian was always an attentive lover, ever in tune to what Emma needed in order to climax. He knew Emma’s favorites, but he also seemed to intuitively know when she wanted something different. In short, the man was just plain good in bed.

But tonight was different. Emma was glad that Henry had moved out and that they had no neighbors on this corner street because she had never cried out so loudly in ecstasy. Emma couldn’t even explain the sensations that washed over her. In some ways, it was as if they truly became one person for a moment. She also saw herself in that moment through his eyes: her body incandescent and dazzling. For one exquisite moment in time, she felt what Killian felt when he made love to her, and it was indescribable.

Afterwards, Killian was trembling in a way she had never seen, and his skin felt clammy as he drew her close.

“Oh. My. God.” she gasped. “That was the most amazing experience of my life. How are there not millions of elves? I want to do that again. And again. And again.”

Killian laughed wearily. “Well,” he gasped, “that’s going to be a bit difficult on my end.”

Emma shifted to see Killian struggling to keep his eyes open. His face was pale and waning. She reached up to cup his cheek, and found it cold. “Are you okay?” she asked in alarm.

“Aye,” he gasped out sliding farther beneath the covers, “I just need to sleep . . .”

His voice slurred as he spoke, his eyes fluttered closed, and then he was fast asleep. He was like any man, ready for a nap shortly after sex, but she had never seen him like this. Her brow furrowed slightly in concern as she leaned over and kissed him gently. She rolled over to go to sleep herself, but she lay awake for a long while, her hand on her abdomen and a smile upon her lips.

***************************************************

Killian had mentioned to Emma once that elves rarely conceived children, and as the days went by, she saw firsthand why. Killian had her scared to death, sleeping for three days straight. Even when he finally woke up, it was another five days before he had the strength to get out of bed. Yet every time she went to check on him, he assured her it was normal when conceiving an elven child.

“Well,” she quipped one day as she sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back from his face, “it better have worked.”

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Oh, it worked. Trust me, love. When an elf wills a child into existence, he always succeeds. You are with child at this very moment; there’s no doubt about that.”

Emma rested her hand upon her still flat stomach, a look of wonder lighting her eyes. Killian’s own eyes were bright even as they drooped with fatigue. Emma thought she felt a fluttering within, though she knew it was far too soon for that. It was only her imagination, filled with joy and anticipation.

As if he could read her mind, Killian told her, “You aren’t imagining things, my love. The babe is moving within you.”

Emma gasped in surprise. “How is that possible?”

Killian mumbled his next words as he drifted off to sleep, “Did I mention that the gestation period for elven babies is different?”

Emma shook her head at her now sleeping husband. “No, Killian Jones, you left out that little detail.” But then she felt that fluttering again, and she couldn’t really be angry. This was going to be interesting, that was for sure.

*****************************************************

Dr. Whale didn’t know any more than any other doctor when it came to Emma’s very unique pregnancy. According to the books on elves in the library, an elf was pregnant for only three months. But Emma wasn’t an elf, and Killian was only half elf, so they really just had to wait and see. And so it was, that after less than six months of pregnancy, Emma gave birth to a healthy, seven pound baby girl. When she first held her, warm and squalling, Emma laughed as she traced the baby’s tiny ears.

“Look, Killian,” she told him, “elf ears.”

She was perfect.