#wanted to make a happy gifset of his first time flying in all the major adaptations but pluto never came through with the goods lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

accio-ambition · 7 years ago

Text

I know it seems like there's a lot of time jumps in this story, but they'll calm down soon. Ish. Promise. But I’m giving you some relationship milestone(s) in this chapter, sooooo... As always, thank you, thank you, thank you to @sotheylived, @queen-icicle-fandom, @shipsxahoy, and @captainswanbigbang for doing their parts in this story. If you feel so inclined, go ahead and leave a comment or message me on the tumblr. I've spent all day with screaming children, I'm already impervious. :)

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 Eleven

A week later, Emma and Henry arrive at the wrap party, dressed up for the occasion because what else is she supposed to dress up for in Storybrooke? They’ve gathered at Jefferson’s house, a nice little two bedroom on the other side of town. The furniture has been pushed to the sides of every common room, and Emma can only be thankful that Jeff had the forethought to plan it here and not on the Jolly Roger or the Jewel. There’s got to be upwards of 50 people here, crews and casts and friends and family, and there’s no way more than 10 could fit on the Jolly Roger on a good day.

(The weather isn’t spectacular either, but the late fall breeze wouldn’t be unwelcome with all this body heat surrounding them.)

She’s got a drink in one hand, waiting for some big announcement Jefferson had teased upon entering the party. She’s laughing with Liam at a shitty joke Mulan’s told when Jefferson claps his hands and mounts a crate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have an enormous announcement,” Jefferson says, his arms flying wide and spilling some of his drink over the lip of his glass. It falls just short of Emma’s bare toes.

“Not one for the dramatic, are you now, Jeff?” she asks, loud and sarcastic, getting a raucous laugh out of the crowd.

Jefferson gives her an annoyed side eye. Otherwise, he continues as if Emma hadn’t interrupted. “I have the great pleasure to tell you guys that the execs loved the show.”

“Well, that’s always nice to hear,” Liam booms.

“And that they want a second, full-season!”

“No way!” Emma shouts, covering her surprised smile with her hand. Henry runs into her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

She’d hoped for a second season, but figured they wouldn’t have a clue for another couple of months. The premiere hadn’t even aired yet, and it was, in her experience and knowledge, very rare for a brand new series to get picked up at this point in the game. Thus, the job searching.

“So congratulations, everyone!” Jefferson yells over the chaotic din that’s broken out. “We’re a hit!”

“Technically,” Henry says at her side, “the show hasn’t premiered yet, so we can’t tell if it’s a hit.”

“Ah, m’boy, that means little,” Killian chides him in good nature, appearing at their sides from nowhere. His free hand ruffles her son’s hair and Henry beams.

For once - and it’s been known to happen on the odd occasion since their tenuous friendship began - Emma agrees with Jones. “Seriously. Think of it this way, we get to stay here.”

“We’re staying?” Henry asks at the same time Jones says, “You were planning on leaving?”

Emma directs her nod toward the captain. “I’ve got to go where I can provide for my son,” she says simply. And then she grins wide and looks down at the boy. “And right now, that’s Storybrooke.”

Henry’s excited, as she knew he would be. He’s practically jumping on her feet. “I can’t wait to tell Phillip and Grace.”

“Well, Grace is over there with Ruby, so you can tell her now.” Gently pushing him toward the little group of kids gathered together in the corner of the room, Emma nods her assent. “Go ahead.”

He starts off toward them, but then Henry hesitates and comes back. “Can I have friends over tomorrow?” he asks.

“In the afternoon,” Emma responds. With a slight glance - hopefully not too noticeable to anyone but herself - in Jones’ direction, she adds, “I have a feeling we’re going to want to sleep in tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, Henry turns around and bounds toward his friends, yelling their names to grab their attention.

“And just what do you plan on doing that’ll force you into a late morning?” Killian asks with a smirk, leaning toward her slightly.

She knew he was going to ask something along those lines, especially if he caught the look she gave him. Which, of course, he did, if the look he’s giving her - a look she’s seen on many men in bars during late nights - is any indication.

Biting on her bottom lip, Emma smiles. “I’m going to celebrate with my friends because I have a steady job for a little while longer and people who care about me.”

“Yes, that is indeed true. An ever growing list, if I’m not to mistaken.” Killian takes another step toward her, invading her personal space and Emma can’t find it in herself to reprimand him for his bold move. “Henry, of course, the Nolans, Ruby and Granny, the crews-”

“You,” she interrupts despite herself. And then she feels her face go blank because now she’s the one who’s being bold. Nervously, she seeks a bit of validation. “Right?”

Killian chuckles nervously and scratches at his ear. “Me,” he admits, “and hopefully it’s likewise?”

She feels kind of foolish, like they’re middle schoolers with their first crushes. She shrugs, trying and failing to hide her growing smile. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Killian scoffs, his hand coming up to his chest. “You know how to wound a man, love.”

Emma smiles wider, tilting her head to the side. “Let’s just say, god forbid, if you were to be lost at sea, I’d help look for you,” she says, “and if you were never found, I’d be sad.”

Chuckling softly, Jones shakes his head. “Such a way with words, Swan,” he says on a sigh. “So eloquent.”

And because she’s happy, so happy, she goes for it. She grabs his hand at his side and pulls him into her, their noses barely touching, but their bodies are aligned from hip to shoulder. “I’m more of a take-action kind of girl.”

“Do tell,” he murmurs, leaning forward just enough so the tips of their noses touch. She, in turn, sets her hands atop his shoulders.

“I’ll leave the words to you, Jones. How’s that sound?”

She feels more than sees him shrug his shoulders beneath her hands. “I think I’m agreeable with that.”

It’s been so long since Emma’s just kissed a man that she becomes a bit too enthusiastic at the prospect. Normally, Killian stands maybe six inches above her, if not less. Now, in her present shoes, they’re nearly the same height. When she pushes up on her toes to kiss him, Emma overshoots and her lips end up closer to the crease of his brow than his lips.

Killian chuckles. It seems he leaned down to compensate for their height difference. Emma groans in embarrassment, sinking to her regular height and clunking her head against his chest.

“Now, now, love,” he says, tipping her chin up to face him. “We’re both a little eager. You’ve been dreaming about this moment since the day we met. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

His comments make Emma scoff, a real smile growing across her lips as shakes her head. “You’re so full of yourself,” she mutters, closing the distance between them much more cautiously than before.

When their lips brush against each other, it’s steady and surprising. For all the hard exterior bravado he puts on, Killian is soft, both in the pressure he exerts on her lips and the way he holds her. His arms wind around her waist as they give and take. Her arms slide up from his shoulders to around his neck, her fingers finding a sweet spot that makes him shiver at the nape of his neck. Scratching at the hair she feels there, short and coarse, makes him growl, a dark sound starting in the back of his throat and rumbling into hers.

It’s not at all what she was expecting, makes her heart pound and her breathing run amok, but then again, when has Killian Jones ever done or been what she was expecting?

Killian leans further into her, his mouth more insistent against hers, forcing her to bend backwards to keep their lips together. She gasps, allowing the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue between her lips and tangle with hers. Emma feels a grin on his lips and can’t help but respond with her own, a hand coming from behind his head to hold his face, bring him infinitesimally closer to her.

She pulls back quickly when she begins to lose her footing, but not without inner protest. Feeling sort of dazed, she opens her eyes to find his bright blue ones shining down at her. If Emma could keep kissing him – perhaps even more than that – without the threat of Henry or anyone else popping in on them or questioning their motives, she most definitely would. No question.

Alas, even now, Ruby approaches them, their bodies still entwined around the other’s, with a martini glass in one hand and a devious smirk growing ever bigger on her lips. She was drunk before Emma got to Jeff’s, and Emma wouldn’t expect her to have stopped because she arrived. Nor would Emma have expected her to spot her and Killian in the midst of everything facebattling one another and not comment on it.

“Were you two just making out in the middle of a public event?” she asks, loud and brash, whatever drink in her glass swooping perilously close to the edge.

Emma shakes her head furiously, even though her arms are still wrapped around Killian’s neck. “Of course not.” She licks her lips as she tries to think of a plausible excuse as to why the two of them are so close. Killian casually swings them so the weight of their bodies shift from one foot to the other and it’s as she hears the slow music in the background that Emma finds the perfect lie. “We were just dancing,” she explains, swaying them more obviously from side to side as if to prove her point. “You know these Jones men.” In a more secluded corner of the room, Emma finds Liam dancing similarly with a brunette woman wrapped up in his arms. She nods her head over Ruby’s shoulder to direct her gaze as she herself looks up to Killian, a soft smile on her lips. “Nothing but gentlemen.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, pulling her closer by the waist. “Raised to save a damsel in distress.”

Ruby cocks a brow, not understanding something that Emma doesn’t want to attempt to understand either. “So you’re saying you saved Emma?” she asks.

Killian shakes his head. “She can save herself.” But under his breath, meant for her ears only, he adds, “I’m just here to help if you need.”

Ruby all but forgotten, Emma feels his words resonate deep inside her. No matter what curve ball she throws at him next, he’s going to stay by her side. He’s sticking around for a while and Emma can scrupulously say it’s the first time in a long time she’s believed anyone who’s vowed to do that.

0000

In-between seasons have usually been a letdown in Emma’s experience. She goes from occasional 14 hour days to nothing. Granted, her place does seem cleaner, and she gets to hang out with Henry more often, but it’s very much a 60 to zero lifestyle.

That being said, of all the off seasons she’s experienced, this one is the least boring. With the promise of another season on the horizon and a nice system – support, school, etc. – in place, it only makes sense for Emma and Henry to stay in Maine for the winter. She did promise him cold days cuddled up by the fireplace and snowman building sessions. It only seems fair to follow through.

(And she loves it. Honest to God, this winter makes her regret every winter she spent in sunny wherever, without snow and her snow bunny son, with his chubby red cheeks and nearly nonstop laughter.)

What she’s not prepared for is the sheer amount of time she spends with people from the show. Emma expected to hang out with Mary Margaret and David simply because they’re old friends of hers and they live right next door, but when Robin calls her a week and a half after the wrap party to invite her and Henry to a pre-Thanksgiving get together, she confusedly says they’ll be there. Then Ruby invites her to a girls’ night down at the Rabbit Hole, as many drinks as you want for five dollars because the season’s slowing down and Ruby finds herself bored more often than not at her off-season bartending job.

And then the snow starts in earnest and barely stops enough for the roads to clear and their clothes to dry again. Henry’s running off to Jefferson’s house for a snowball fight while she drinks with Scarlet and Whale on the front porch, trading horror stories and laughing so loud that both Joneses two and a half blocks away can hear them.

(Killian texts her one specific evening, telling her to calm down and “next time you decide to imbibe the drink, please invite me so I can keep the lads from getting too randy.”

“You think I can’t smack your men into shape?” she responds.

His answer comes a moment later: “Oh, I know you can. I want to make sure I have a crew afterwards.”)

By the time Christmas rolls around, Emma doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. For so long, it’s just been her and Henry. They’d usually go to Walmart or Home Depot and buy a small potted plant to throw on the few ornaments they had collected, most of them handmade. She’d get a handful of presents for Henry and split them down the middle – half from her and half from Santa. They’d stay up late and watch Christmas movies until they couldn’t keep their eyes open on Christmas Eve and laze about on Christmas Day.

But now they have a house – a big house, far bigger than they really need but worth every square inch – that needs decorations inside and outside. It calls for a real Christmas tree, with lights and tinsel and a star on top. Stockings hanging from the actual fireplace mantle and the scent of Christmas cookies wafting through every room: the mere thought makes Emma emotional when she’s on her own some nights.

They have friends and people who care for them. When she and Henry sit down to make a list for the people they need to get presents for, Emma nearly cries at how long it is. There’s David and Mary Margaret, Jefferson, Mulan, August, Graham, Robin and Regina...

For the first time in a long time, Emma feels like she belongs.

“Liam and Killian!” Henry reminds her, his finger anxiously jabbing the next blank line on the paper. “We have to get something really good for Liam and Killian.”

“Why do we have to get something really good for them?” she asks as she reluctantly writes down their names. There’s a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that bubbles up when she adds their names to their list, and it’s a bit hard to place, so Emma shoves it further down.

“Because they’re our best friends,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

(And it kind of is, when she thinks about it.)

“What about your friends from school? What about them?” she asks in an attempt to distract him.

Henry shrugs and shakes his head. “Liam and Killian are our best friends.”

Chuckling, Emma means to correct him - she meant does she need to add any of his school friends’ names to her list - but a knock sounds at the door. Both of them tilt their heads to the side: neither of them are expecting any visitor. As the adult of the relationship, unfortunately, Emma stands up and shuffles over the front door, swinging it open and letting in a chill.

Lo and behold, it’s Killian himself.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Is that your way of saying you find me devilishly handsome, Swan?” Killian asks with a twinkle in his eye. It’s been showing up a lot more often these days, as a byproduct of their wrap party dalliance, she’s sure.

But as for development of whatever it is between them, there’s been none. Aside from occasional texts and drive-bys, Emma hasn’t really seen or talked either Jones brother since the party. Unsure as to whether Killian was staying away from her, letting her come to him in her own time, or whether she was unconsciously hiding away from him, Emma couldn’t say.

(But she does miss them. Him. Henry runs down to their house and says hi at least three times a week when he’s off to school or a friend’s house. She knows that, and they’re less than a mile away, but they just haven’t said anything about the elephant in the room and it feels awkward.

So Emma doesn’t broach the topic.)

(Whatever she tells Ruby in the aftermath and hangover of that night, Emma ruminates in the memory of making out with her soft, blue-eyed captain more than she would like to admit.)

“No.” She ushers him in quickly with a roll of her eyes as the wind picks up, and motions to Henry still sitting on at the table. “We were just coming up with a list of people we need to get Christmas presents for.”

Killian smiles, acting honored with a hand to his heart in true Jones-drama fashion. “And I made the cut?” he qualifies. Spinning around on his heel, Killian looks back at her and sends her a wink. “Swan, I’m truly honored.”

“Nuh uh.” Emma points to Henry with a slight grin. “You should be thanking him. I was more than happy to leave you off the list, but he insisted because he thinks of you and Liam as his best friends.”

His expression softens before turning to face her son. He looks truly honored now. “I’ve never heard kinder sentiments, lad.” In a few long strides, Killian situates himself right next to Henry’s chair. He reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Thank you, Henry.”

Henry’s bashful when he says you’re welcome - his cheeks rouge and he begins twiddling with his fingers beneath the table. Emma’s heart hurts from how happy she is, how much joy she finds in this moment in time. Henry’s never really had anyone but her to look up to, but here and now, it feels like Killian is taking on some of that burden.

“So,” Killian starts, breaking the moving warmth in the room, “do the Swans have any big Christmas plans?”

Emma shakes her head, settling back into her chair. “We’ve got a lot of decorating to do before then,” she reminds him dolefully, both answering his question and not. “That’s where my mind is right now.”

Henry asks, “What are you guys doing?”

Killian shrugs. “Nothing special, I suppose,” he tells them. “We usually eat dinner with Robin and his clan, but I shouldn’t think us welcome in Regina’s current condition.”

Under her breath, Emma laughs. Regina’s well into her second trimester, maybe even the beginning of her third at this rate, reaching the point in her pregnancy where Emma knows nothing matters but finally getting the baby out of her. She remembers those days far too well.

It probably is better that Liam and Killian stay far and away from a woman in such a volatile state, especially during one of the most stressful times of the year. But in no way would she think her own son would suggest the alternative he does.

“Why don’t you come and spend Christmas with us?”

Emma’s jaw drops and she sharply scolds him. “Henry!”

His eyes meet her from across the table. “I’m serious, Mom,” he says. “It’s just going to be us and Liam and Killian are going to be alone too. Why shouldn’t we be alone together?”

Killian glances at her, then back to Henry. “If it’s quite alright with your mother, I would love to,” he answers the boy gently, “and I’m sure Liam would think the same.”

Henry’s face illuminates more than any Christmas tree Emma’s seen in her life. Then he turns his begging puppy dog eyes on her. “Mom, please?” he begs.

“I don’t know,” she responds hesitantly. Her gaze flick between the brown of her son’s eyes and the startling blue of Killian’s. She relents. “Maybe during the day. But not in the morning,” she says sternly. “That’s gonna be for me and you, kid.”

“You should come over for dinner,” Henry offers. “Mom makes spaghetti.”

Killian cocks a brow. “Really?” He stares her down, his tongue peeking out from the smirk growing on his lips. “You cook, Swan?”

Holding her ground, Emma casually shrugs. “On occasion.”

He nods, his mouth trying - and failing horrendously, she observes - to hide his grin. With a nod of his head, Killian says, “Then I look forward to the day.”

Her smile is smug, she knows, she can feel it, but she’s very satisfied with how her son’s little surprise ends with a win for her. And then she remembers Killian interrupted their family Christmas list making session. “Did you come here for a reason or did you just need to get out of the house?” she asks.

“A little bit of both,” he admits, pushing off the back of Henry’s chair to scratching behind his ear. “I wanted to see if I could interest you in coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He nods, his eyes darting everywhere that isn’t her and his hand moving furiously at the skin behind his ear.

She’s suspicious. She narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “What did you do?” Emma grumbles.

“Nothing, hopefully.” And his words ring true to her. “Liam sometimes gets a little too into the holiday spirit. He’s been baking and cooking all day and though the house smells heavenly, I am merely one man and cannot possibly eat close to a quarter of what he’s made,” Killian explains. “So I called up the lads and some other neighbors and invited them over and thought I’d swing by and invite you and your boy.”

Jones’ sentence is barely finished when Henry says, “We’ll be there.”

“Henry,” she reprimands.

(What is up with him, she wonders to herself. He’s never been this obstinate and she of all people would know how stubborn her son can be.)

“Mom, you were going to say yes anyways,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. That takes Emma aback even further, but Henry doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he turns to look up at Killian. “What did Liam bake?”

“A few dozen batches of cookies, a lasagna or three, and there may have been some homemade jam as well,” Killian rattles off, ticking each one off his fingers.

Just the list of food has Emma practically drooling. She looks to Henry, whose eyes are wide as saucers and his mouth gaping open. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to be there,” she decides immediately. “What time?”

“Whenever pleases you.” Killian gestures to the door he’d entered through a few minutes before. “We can walk back together now, if you so wish.”

“Can we, Mom, please?” Henry pleads. “We want to get all the good cookies before Will comes and steals them all.”

Opening her mouth to respond, it’s cut off by the clicking of Jones’ tongue. “The lad’s got a fair point, Swan,” he says, turning a swarthy look on her. “You know Scarlet will scarf down everything in sight.”

After scrunching up her nose - she’s displeased to say the least at her coworker and son banding against her - Emma groans, turning to Henry. “Did you do all your homework?”

“Not my math.”

“Take it with you,” she says reluctantly. “Maybe Killian will be better help than me.”

“Oh, well, I, uh,” Killian says, stumbling over his words. That makes her smile. For once the tables have turned and she’s caught him off guard.

But Henry’s already cheering, excited to be having this huge dinner with the people he’s grown to love.

Emma - she’s just excited to see her son so happy.

They gather up their warm clothes, Henry his backpack from upstairs, and then they’re out the door. Henry, in a great impression of the Tasmanian devil, whirls down the porch steps and is halfway out the gate while Emma turns around to lock up the door.

“Honestly, Swan, I don’t know why you insist on locking up your home,” Jones grumbles at her side. “You know practically everyone in town. The town knows you and the lad. What do you think should come to pass if you don’t lock the door?”

She shrugs, watching Henry hurry down the sidewalk to the Jones’ house. “Old habits, I guess.” A brief look at his face shows him unsatisfied with her answer. “You know me. We were in Phoenix before we were here, and L.A. and Baltimore before that.” She shrugs again. “I guess I’ve just always lived in cities.”

“Oh, so it’s not because you don’t trust a soul in this town,” he says, pushing and holding the gate open for her. “Because, honestly, love, I hope there’s at least one person in Storybrooke you trust enough.”

Emma giggles and hums. “And who do you hope that it is?” she asks him, already knowing the answer. Stopping short on the sidewalk, she faces him. “You, Jones?”

The question hangs in the air as they silently make their way through the cold and around the corner to his and his brother’s home. It’s similarly big as hers, though a light blue instead of a gray. The porch doesn’t extend all the way around, but it covers most of the front. Even from here, Emma can spot their backyard, shadows dancing across the lawn from people inside. They extend as far as the wooden walkway, on which the other side harbor waters lie. Even before her son claimed the Jones brothers as their best friends, she could’ve said this was a perfect house for them.

Henry’s already made it to the front porch. Emma can see him knocking on the door from the sidewalk.

Jones doesn't answer her question until they step up to the front door. He reaches for her arm, squeezing her forearm before shrugging, a boyish quality taking over his body language. “It’d be an honor of mine,” he tells her, not a hint of teasing to be heard. “But in the unfortunate case it is not, then I’d be glad to know that you’ve got someone to lean on.”

Emma chuckles. “You know, your brother said something eerily similar when we first met.”

Opening the gate for her, Killian laughs as well. “Honestly, Swan, it’s like you forget who raised me.” He leans in to her, close enough for her to smell the cologne he must have sprayed before coming to visit them. “I know who my confidante is,” he whispers conspiratorially to her, winking. “I happen to be standing next to her. She’s quite enticing, even when she’s yelling at me.”

His words really touch her, even with their slight jab at her temper, but she doesn’t have time to contemplate them for her attention is immediately focusing on the ruckus from inside. It sounds like something fragile just hit the floor and shattered. “How many people did you invite?” she asks.

Killian chuckles and pats her on the shoulder. “Come now, Swan, it’s a spontaneous dinner,” he reminds her. “Can’t have dinner without the entire crew.”

He opens the door to reveal literally the whole crew: all trawlers from both of their ships and assorted family members parade through the house. Emma spots David and Robin in the corner with beers in hand and August and Mary Margaret chatting in another. She’s been to crew dinners before, but she doesn’t even know half of these people.

“Are you sure Liam made enough food?” she asks him quietly, stripping off her jacket.

“Definitely,” he assures her, taking her coat and somehow finding it a spot on the crowded coat rack. “Funnily enough, Swan, this is not the biggest crowd we’ve ever had in this house.”

She grimaces. “I’d hate to have been there.”

He gently pushes her toward the center of the madness. “Don’t be prickly. Who knows, maybe you’ll have a good time.”

Emma groans and drags her feet as she makes her way toward the kitchen and the admittedly heavenly smells that waft from that direction. There’s got to be a bottle of beer and a handful of Christmas cookies with her name on them somewhere in this house.

#csbb #captain swan big bang #cs ff #captain swan #ouat #ditlot #my words #storytime #YOU WANT DANCING?!#HAVE IT #KISSING?!#PRESTO CHANGE O #CHRISTMASTIME #TAKE IT #HEART TO HEARTS #WHAT HAVE I GOT TO LOSE

65 notes · View notes

icecubelotr44 · 7 years ago

Text

To Every Thing a Season (2/16)

Summary: After witnessing the tragic murder of his brother Liam, Killian Jones is more determined than ever to discover the secrets of time travel. Fast-tracking his education at Storybrooke University, Killian is assigned a lab assistant, one Emma Swan. Together, they find a way to break through the veil of time so Killian can set things right. But what will be the price for changing the past, and is it one they’re willing to pay?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @optomisticgirl made imagesets for all the chapters and @ab-normality made a video and a gifset for this fic. You can find the imageset for this chapter above and here on her blog. The video is linked here and on her blog here and the gifset will be posted later in the story!

Beta readers: The as-always wonderful @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, thanks so much for all of your help and cajoling and reassuring! And a huge thank you to the spectacular @spartanguard who stepped in to help beta read as well!

A/N: Written as part of the 2017 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Thursday from now until its completion. And yes, there is a happy ending after all this… just so you know.

Word count: ~ 5,100 (80K+ Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: ao3 | ffn

Current Chapter: AO3 | FFN

Chapter 2: To Plant and to Pluck

“Professor, no! I don’t need an assistant. And certainly not some freshman who probably doesn’t know the difference between and photon and a… a proton!” Killian balked, his hands curling into fists automatically. “Please, Dr. Hopper, she’s just going to slow me down.”

“That might not be a bad thing, my boy. And I’ve asked you before to call me Archie when we’re not in the classroom.” Archie looked over the rims of his glasses and Killian met his gaze with a glare of his own.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered sullenly.

“The fact of the matter is, Killian, that you need to slow down. Consider it a favor to me, taking her on. She’s a criminal justice major and she’s already enrolled in Physics 102. If you can help her understand any of this better, then it will make my life easier.” The professor paused. “And I don’t think I have to remind you that you are only allowed five hours a week in the labs to work on your project unless I allow you more.”

Killian’s shoulders slumped. The bags under his eyes from his latest batch of nightmares weren’t going to do anything to help convince Hopper that he didn’t need the help. And really, how bad could it be? She wasn’t a pure science major. Surely this lass would be no more interested in helping him than he was in her help.

“She needs the job to stay in school, Killian. You understand how much this school can mean to some people, don’t you?”

He could feel the muscle in his jaw twitching at that low blow. “Fine. But if she breaks anything or gets in my way…”

“I will be the first to find her someplace else to occupy her time. I don’t want to impede your work. I want to improve it.”

Killian closed his eyes and tried not to imagine the horror he was about to agree to. “And you’ll approve the extra hours I requested?”

“Yes. And if you make it through the semester with her working with you, I will also approve the practical materials you need to start building your project next year.”

Just the mention of the possibility of starting construction on the capsule he would need in order to get back to Liam had him nodding his acquiescence. He could handle a freshman sitting pretty in the corner of the lab if it meant he could start some physical work within the year - on top of the theoretical work he spent every free moment on. Bloody hell, Killian thought, he’d have volunteered to host Hopper’s entire 102 class if it meant he could finally get to practical work.

Regardless of the incentives, he knew how trying this was going to be. Killian pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “When does she start?” he breathed out, already feeling the headache building.

He missed the beginning of Archie’s satisfied grin as he shut his eyes as if he could block out the inevitable answer.

“Right after finals are over.” Dr. Hopper was laughing under his breath. Killian resisted the urge to groan out loud. “Turns out that Miss Swan isn’t going home for break either. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other with all the hours you’ve requested over Christmas.”

Killian’s eyes opened wide and he was finally graced with the beaming look his professor had adopted.

He couldn’t help it; he rolled his eyes.

“Here’s your approval for the lab hours over break. You’ll have to share with Miss Blanchard’s AP Physics field trips once a week when the high school is in session while we’re out. And Killian?” Killian squeezed his eyes shut, dreading what else Dr. Hopper was going to demand of him.

Archie waited until he looked up and met his gaze. “Try to do something fun over break, all right? Something outside of the lab? Something… I don’t know, something exciting.”

“Yes, sir,” Killian muttered, resolutely ignoring the defiant part of him that already planned to refuse that request.

“Very well, my boy. I’ll see you tomorrow for your final, then. Try to get some sleep; you still look tired.”

Killian took off before Hopper could come up with something else that he would end up ignoring. On his way out the door, a blonde woman - he thought she might be the same one who had knocked him off his feet during the snowstorm - looked up from where she sat opposite the classroom. Her green eyes flashed with recognition and then she rose to her feet. She never broke eye contact, and Killian gulped as his hand rose to scratch behind his ear.

“I… I suppose I owe you a better apology for the other day, lass. Right poor form on my part to rush off like I did after I knocked you down. My brother would have my…” The words choked Killian as he realized what he had said. Where his memories were traipsing off to. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth against the onslaught.

Killian hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until the touch of a hand on his arm startled him.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

His gaze was locked on her hand, amazed at how quickly the gentle touch had brought him back from the streets of Ireland to their campus in Maine.

She seemed to realize what she was doing and snatched back her arm with a mumbled apology of her own.

Killian felt the loss immediately, but shook his head as she seemed to shrink in on herself with arms crossed and defense written across her face.

He knew the feeling.

“I… erm… I’m fine. And you? After the other day?”

She nodded, and looked like she was about to say something when Archie called out from inside the room.

“Mr. Jones? Are you still out there?”

Killian’s eyes widened. “You never saw me!” he hissed before sprinting down the hallway.

And that should have been the end of it. He had never allowed himself to ponder the idea of fate or kismet or whatever people told themselves to make sense of how the world worked. If Killian thought like that, he’d never be able to go back in time to save Liam - the ethics and morals of it were already shady enough without believing that there was a plan already in place for all of them.

So what if he’d seen her twice and been drawn to her both times? So what if she was the first girl… woman that he’d ever looked twice at. He didn’t even know her name, so what did it matter if her golden hair and her emerald eyes were seared into his brain, even hours later?

Right?

Killian rolled over on his bunk so his back was to the room, pounding at the pillow until it conformed to his liking, and let the numbers fly around his head. There was something off with the newest part of his equations, something that was making the earlier numbers look yellow as they flitted about. He took a deep breath and tried to focus, but the problem stayed just out of sight.

“Jones!” Scarlet yelled as he barreled into the room, and Killian sighed as the numbers faded away. All that was left were the chicken scratches in his notebook.

“What?!” He rolled over again, glaring down at Will until he saw the girl hanging off his arm. “Apologies, lass, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Killian looked over to where Will was grinning like a maniac and rolled his eyes. “At you, anyway. What do you want, Scarlet?”

“Ana and I are going down to the student center to see Robin and John play. Fancy comin’ along?” Will didn’t even wait for an answer before he turned to bury his nose in Ana’s neck, the resulting giggles that came from her grating on Killian’s ears.

“I don’t think so, mate,” Killian said when Will finally looked up. “I’ve got a lot of studying to do, still. Thanks, though.”

His roommate shrugged. “Your loss, mate. Should be a good show. Better than your impersonation of a hermit, anyway.”

Killian smirked at the dig, but then Archie’s words echoed in his ears. Try to do something fun… something exciting. He was a man of his word. Liam had instilled that into Killian even if his father hadn’t. If he went to Robin’s show, then at least he could honestly tell Dr. Hopper after break that he had done something outside of the physics lab.

“Hold up. Give me five minutes to change and I’ll go with you.”

Scarlet grinned, and Ana smiled coquettishly. “Good on ya, Jones. We’ll meet you in the common room, then.”

Killian nodded and heaved himself out of his loft as the door shut behind them. Some fresh deodorant, a clean shirt, and a brush over his face to make sure his scruff hadn’t turned into all-out beard in the last few days, and he was ready.

And already wishing he’d never said anything.

The walk across campus to the student center was frigid and a little bit eerie. Holed up as often as he was in his room, Killian hadn’t been able to fully appreciate just how desolate the campus got when the underclassmen were cramming for exams. There were a few others making their way towards the show or to the cafeteria for dinner, but the snow-covered quad was otherwise empty.

Killian sighed as he trudged along behind Will and Ana, idly wondering how the two managed to walk while wrapped up in one another like they were. Surely their altered combined center of gravity would make it nearly impossible to stay upright.

He had to bat away the numbers that began to dance in his vision, trying to pull him into a headspace that would likely leave Killian standing dumbfounded in the middle of the quad.

“Jones!” Will called out without even turning around. “You comin’ or not?”

Killian smirked. His roommate could be a bloody prat sometimes, but other times they were one hell of a pair.

The auditorium was dark already, the only illumination coming from the stage where Robin and the Merry Men were idly plucking at guitar strings or adjusting microphones. The row that Ana chose was mostly full, leaving Killian with only a single seat to his right before the aisle. It was unlikely that anyone would sit next to him now, and his shoulders slumped a little in relief. There were already more people than he was comfortable sharing space with and he’d take the reprieve where he could.

Will smacked him on the arm and grinned when Killian rolled his eyes. “You’ll like it, mate. I’m tellin’ ya.”

Killian nodded and settled further into the cushioned seat. He let the numbers fly untended, half his awareness on his surroundings and the other on potential breakthroughs. He had just perked up on a possibility when-

“Is this seat… you again?”

Killian startled badly before he locked gazes with the same emerald eyes that had haunted him all afternoon as he tried to work.

“Are you following me?” he blurted out, then cringed.

The blonde rolled her eyes and folded herself into the seat beside him. Killian expected to feel uncomfortable. He expected to feel confined and antsy.

It felt like she had been by his side for years.

“Hardly. I don’t even know your name, Idiot,” she muttered, already lighting up her phone screen and ignoring him.

“Killian Jones, at your service, milady.” Killian cringed again, mentally smacking himself upside the head even as he extended his hand in greeting. What was he going to do next, kiss her knuckles and offer her his sword?

“I’m Emma,” she replied, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Emma.” Her name rolled of his tongue smoothly, and he was caught by the urge to say it again. Their fingers intertwined and the bolt of electricity that sparked up his arm took him by surprise. Killian stared down at their hands, looking for the catalyst that had nearly made him jump. There was nothing for him to find, however, and Emma pulled her hand back far too quickly for his liking.

Bloody hell, mate, he chastised himself, what is wrong with you?

Killian smiled politely to hide the unwelcome sting of rejection and reminded himself, again, that he barely knew the woman sitting next to him. He turned back to the stage, tugging off his glasses to clean them as a distraction, determined to forget about her.

“Are they any good?” Emma asked, jutting her chin out towards Robin’s band. “I’ve seen flyers for their shows before, but I really just needed a break from studying.”

Killian perked up at the chance to talk to her for longer. Don’t muck this up, he begged himself. “Aye, they’re pretty good. I’ve been drag… err… coming to their shows for a few years now, since they got together freshman year. Robin was my first roommate, before I got stuck with this prat.”

He nodded in Will’s general direction, ignoring the elbow to his ribs that caused the comment.

“Will Scarlet, love, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’d love to get to know you even better, though.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but shook his hand as well. As Will leaned over to brush a kiss to her knuckles, Killian leaned in and hissed, “Aren’t you here with a woman already, mate?”

Will pulled back with a ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin and threw his arm around the scowling Ana’s shoulders. “Just bein’ friendly, Jones. Should try it some time.”

Killian was saved from trying to make a witty retort when Robin’s voice came over the speakers. “Hey there, everyone. Glad to see the books haven’t sucked out your souls just yet.”

The laughter that rippled through the small crowd seemed to break the hold Emma had over his thoughts, and Killian settled in for the show.

Emma adjusted the beanie that was dangerously high on her forehead, then checked that the straps of her backpack weren’t going to slip off her shoulders. She fastened one more button on her shirt, then released it.

She ignored the smirk on Ruby’s face as she checked her reflection in the mirror one more time.

“Nervous for your first day on the job?” Ruby asked, the smirk morphing into a wolfish grin as Emma glared through the mirror.

She ripped the beanie off her head, checking inside of it to see what was making her so uncomfortable. Emma expected to see a pin or a loose thread.

There was nothing there.

“Not nervous. Just…” Emma thought hard about how to phrase what she was feeling. “Concerned. I need this to work, and if this junior doesn’t fall for it, I’m out of a job and out of a college experience.”

Emma looked up, then repeated, “I need this to work.”

Ruby sidled up to her, hip-checking Emma to the side until they shared the mirror. “Emma, he’s going to be falling all over himself for you. You know that, right? Unless he’s blind. Or gay. And then you may have your work cut out for you.”

Emma glared again. “This isn’t… he’s an upperclassman. I’m just a freshman. He’s not going to care what I look like.”

“And yet, you’re going to be late because you’re still standing in front of the mirror.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she looked down at her watch. Ruby was right; she was going to be late. She took off out of the bathroom, jamming her hat back over her ears and brushing the wayward strands of hair out of her face.

“Knock his socks off, Em!” Ruby’s voice echoed down the hall and was answered by the slam of the hallway door.

It wasn’t like Emma hadn’t been thinking about just that. It had been on her mind constantly since she’d rushed into Dr. Hopper’s classroom to agree to take the job before one of the advanced classes started their final. She remembered the way the professor had flushed that first day when she’d insinuated he wanted her to seduce this science geek, but how else did he expect her to get the guy out of the lab without telling him what was up?

Emma Swan didn’t do people.

She practically flew across campus to the science building, searching the room numbers in the physics hallway for the one she’d hastily scribbled down on a scrap of paper and jammed in her pocket the night before. Dr. Hopper had assured her that he would meet her there to make the introductions, but that he had to run right afterwards for a meeting at the local high school.

Emma hoped he’d still be there.

Finally coming across the correct room, Emma tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. She would freely admit that she didn’t pay much attention in science, but she thought that with equipment as expensive as what was housed here, the labs would all be locked when not in use. Hesitantly, she poked her head inside, wondering if she should wait for Dr. Hopper before entering the lab. She had thought she was late, but maybe she wrote the time down wrong, or maybe she got the room number wrong, or maybe…

Killian Jones, the guy she kept running into all over campus, was hunched over one of the lab benches. His hair was all in disarray, a pencil tucked behind one ear even as he held another one over the notebook he was scribbling in. He didn’t even look up as she walked in and shut the door behind her. But Emma did notice something curious. His left hand was twitching at the corner of his scribblings; it almost looked as if he was flicking through pages of a book, but the pads of his fingers never touched the paper he was writing on.

“Are you working for Dr. Hopper, too?” Emma asked, grimacing a little when Killian jumped in his seat.

His startled gaze locked on hers quickly, and she smiled sheepishly. Killian continued to stare at her for just a moment too long, and Emma started to squirm under the scrutiny.

And then, as if a switch were flipped in his head, he smiled back at her. “Well, now I know you’re following me, lass. Should I be concerned?”

“Oh yeah,” she returned. “You should start yelling for campus security any moment now.”

Killian’s laugh was deep and sent a shiver through her. He seemed like someone she could genuinely get used to hanging around. But, she reasoned, he was probably waiting for Dr. Hopper, too, and would be heading off to his own upperclassman to herd out of the lab.

He sobered up a minute later, but there was still a sparkle in his eyes and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “So what can I help you with, Emma?”

“Oh, nothing, I suppose. I’m waiting for Dr. Hopper. I guess you are, too?” she asked, looking towards the door. “I thought I was late.”

Emma turned back to Killian just in time to see a strange look come across his features. He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened behind her and Dr. Hopper came rushing in.

“Emma, I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a few last minute projects show up in my inbox and I had to… oh, I see you’ve met already. Good, good.” He smiled happily, and turned to go. At the last second he turned back. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just leave you both to get started and figure out your schedules for the next few weeks?”

Emma stood, transfixed and facing the door, long after the professor had left. She finally was broken out of her shock by Killian clearing his throat behind her.

“Erm, well, yes. I suppose I should introduce myself properly, lass. Killian Jones, physics major in… err… reluctant need of a lab assistant.” Killian stood up and stuck out his hand for her to shake.

Emma stared at his hand like it would reach out and bite her. “I think there’s been some mistake. Dr. Hopper assigned me to a junior.”

“Aye,” he nodded, still holding his hand out. He shook it a little, and Emma rolled her eyes before reaching out to shake it. To her surprise, Killian tugged her towards him a little bit, and then laid a light kiss on her knuckles.

She snatched her hand away, avoiding the impulse to wipe it on her jeans. “Who does things like that?” Emma snarked.

“My brother,” Killian replied, and it sounded sad.

Her features softened, and she tried to make him smile again. “So you thought playing the gentleman now would be a good start?”

“Oh lass,” he smirked, and Emma tried not to think too deeply about the flutter in her belly that came from it. “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Right,” Emma drew out the word as she looked around the lab. “Gentleman or not, I’m looking for an upperclassman to… umm… assist. You can’t be that much older than me, if you aren’t younger!”

Killian laughed derisively.

“Our ages aside, lass, a junior I am. And one who needs to get to work. So if you don’t mind?” He gestured towards the other side of the lab table. “If you’re serious about helping, then I need you to log into the computer. If not, then there’s a desk over there that you can sit at and be out of my way.”

Emma bristled, then dropped her bookbag under the table and booted up the computer. “Just tell me what to do.”

Emma was a quick study, Killian decided as he looked over the output from his latest equation. He couldn’t deny that the work went much faster with her there to type in the numbers and monitor the simulations in the computer program for him. Her work left his hands free to scribble in the margins of his notebook or to fiddle with the prototype machine he was starting to craft out of scrap materials. That work would have to be farmed out to engineers once Archie approved him to build a full-scale model, but having Emma working with him was moving the timeline to completion along nicely.

He might even be able to get a set of blueprints to Archie before the end of this semester rather than in the fall. Killian was quietly pleased with how the arrangement had worked out - if only Emma didn’t insist on distracting him every few hours.

Throughout the entirety of the winter break, Killian had to deal with Emma’s penchant to lag in efficiency whenever she started to get hungry. He found, reluctantly, that the quickest way to get her back up to his level of productivity was to follow her to the cafeteria - since she refused to go by herself - and try to hurry her along through her meal.

And yet, they had the same argument every time Emma started to get hungry.

“Lass, why don’t you run to the cafeteria and grab something to eat?” He asked that afternoon when Emma started gnawing on her pen cap and typing in the codes with one finger.

She shrugged, her point-and-stab typing pausing while she swung around to look at him. “I’ve got another hour in here with you. It will still be open when we’re done.”

“Really, Emma, I’ve got this under control,” he cajoled, trying - just once - to get her to go on her own.

But, as he expected, she just shook her head and turned back to the computer screen. “Don’t worry about it, Killian. If I go now, I’ll have to eat by myself and everyone will stare. Let’s just get back to work.”

A moment later, Emma’s stomach growled and Killian clenched his eyes shut. His chin dropped to his chest and he gave in to the inevitable.

“If I go with you, will you please get something to eat?” Even to Killian’s ears, he sounded like he was being led to the gallows.

But, just like every other time, Emma beamed at him and jumped from the stool to grab her coat. “Let’s go, Jones! There’s a grilled cheese with my name on it.”

The smells from the cafeteria hit his nose before they were fully inside and Killian realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast… almost eight hours ago. He may as well make use of his meal card while he was here - then he could stick around the lab for a few extra hours without having to worry about dinner. They swiped their meal cards at the turnstile and then separated to find their meals.

Killian eyed Emma to make sure that she was in line for food before he headed over to the sandwich bar to see if something caught his eye. He chose a tuna-and-something panini that looked the most appetizing and moved to the salad bar before he met up with Emma at a bar-style table in the corner of the eating area.

Emma hopped up onto one of the stools and shoved a plate of fries in his direction. “Eat these, they gave me both and I don’t want them,” she said around a mouthful of onion ring.

The next thing he knew, Emma’s eyes were watering and she was slurping down her drink. “Hot,” she breathed out with a pained look. He couldn’t keep from huffing out a laugh under his breath.

Killian eyed the french fries and could almost picture the amount of time he was going to waste shoving them in his mouth, but he knew they’d be eaten before they left.

What seemed to be an eternity later, Killian followed Emma back to their shared lab and the computer results that awaited them. He watched as her hips swayed from side to side. Will, he knew, would be salivating all over Emma at the way she moved, but Killian was more cautiously intrigued. She was stunning - he’d have to be blind not to see that - but that wasn’t what was foremost in his mind when Killian thought of her.

No, it was the way she seemed intent to learn so that she could actually help him, rather than just putting in her hours. It was the way she asked questions - only once - and remembered the answers. It was the way she seemed to care that he should succeed.

And Killian hadn’t even told her the real reason he was trying to manipulate time. He hadn’t told her anything about Liam.

He was starting to think that he should.

But not today. Just the thought of Liam’s death made the food in Killian’s belly threaten a reappearance. He had to swallow hard to make sure that visions of blood and pale skin didn’t stop his footsteps and leave him lost in the past, still standing in the middle of the science building’s hallway. He couldn’t-

“Killian? Are you coming?” Emma looked back from where she was unlocking the lab’s door.

“Aye, lass, sorry. I’m with you.”

No, he wouldn’t tell Emma about Liam today.

But soon, he promised when she smiled over the desktop at him. Soon. She deserved to know what she was getting herself into.

What he was getting them both into.

Killian returned her smile, wondering if it looked as forced as it felt, but unable to shake the whispering voice in his head - I’m waiting, little brother. Why haven’t you saved me yet?

He had no answer for Liam.

Or for himself.

Killian sighed, then stepped into the lab with the grim reason for creating his machine nipping at his heels.

Once upon a time, he had worked on this project for fun. He could still remember the first time he heard of string theory, the way it had taken hold in his head and wouldn’t let go. He could still remember his eighth birthday when Liam had gotten him a huge whiteboard and a whole tub of dry erase markers. He could still remember how Brennan had sneered at the gift, but Killian had been ecstatic. One of his happiest days was that birthday - he and Liam had spent the afternoon putting the easel together, then writing out “KILLIAN’S THEORY” in big block letters at the top.

That whiteboard had seen him through most of his awkward teenage years. It had seen him through the bullies who couldn’t stand him showing them up in class and the girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day. It had been a sense of stability when Liam was working and Brennan was downstairs, drunk as usual.

It had been the only source of comfort when he was mourning his brother.

He’d had to leave the whiteboard behind, of course, but there was another in the corner of this lab. The penmanship hadn’t gotten much better with time, but the big block letters at the top spelled out the same - even if they weren’t permanently etched into the board like the one back in England. It was here that Killian moved now, the familiar ritual of scrubbing out numbers that had become warped with new aspects of his theory and listening to the squeak of the marker as new ones took their place.

“This result came back negative. What do you want me to change?” Emma asked, her voice breaking him free of the numbers’ dance.

“Try increasing the intensity while decreasing the frequency. See what that does,” he replied, still distracted.

Behind him, Killian heard the clack of keys as Emma input the new parameters. With the numbers taken care of, he turned his attention to the model he was working on. He theorized that a round exoskeleton would be more conducive to time-flight, or at least to the cessation of flight when he got back in time. He would need to use strong materials - a combination of carbon fiber and titanium for the actual chassis, carbide and silicon for the computer parts, polycarbonate-

“Killian?” Emma was standing next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been calling you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, the feel of her this close to him stealing the very words from his lips. “Err… umm… right. What?”

Emma smiled; it was a little thing, just barely quirking up the corners of her mouth, but it brightened his day regardless.

“It’s after nine, Jones. Time to go.”

He nodded with a put-out sigh. For all he was trying to mold it to his will, it seemed that Killian never had enough time.

tagging @gusenitsaa, @kiwistreetswan, @lenfazreads, @xhookswenchx, @killian-whump, @eala-captian

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #ouat fic #ouat ff #my fic #time travel au #college au #no character death in this chapter folks #cameo by robin #cameo by will #can't wait to see what you all think #I promise this chapter is a lot fluffier!

81 notes · View notes

twilight-deviant · 8 years ago

Text

@uglybusiness reblogged your post “Okay, you know what, your tags are a JOY and a highlight of my dash :) Also, it didn't occure to me that Flynn's remark...”

My mistake - I saw @wellwhataboutme’s post and tags after messaging you. But yes, it’s such an great observation. And it makes me happy that the writers put that in there, ‘cause the minor, less obvious details and lines like this are my favorite kind of characterisatoin. I can just trust the writers so much more when they show this level of consistency and subtlety. So I’m very excited, despite even the bitterness of that moment for Flynn and Lucy. (Now, I just hope the writers won’t use these skills they’ve just proven to write something truly aweful for us garcy fans, lol.)

At this point, he as good as blames her for the endurance of Rittenhouse. […] she (in his mind) condemned his family to their deaths all over again.

Ow. The way you pharsed it, it hurts. :( You’re right of course, that’s exactly what he must be feeling. He lost both the hope that this time he’d finally saved his family, AND the hope he’d had a friend in Lucy. (I can’t imagine how lonely he must be. How much he must want someone who understands, who he could share the weight of his mission with.)

But did you notice Lucy’s reaction to his accusations? She looked so upset and distressed, very clearly sorry for him. Like, she knows she absolutely had done the right thing by saving the boy, but this knowledge doesn’t help much when she sees Flynn in so much pain and despair. When, also, another child might have lived, if. Poor Lucy. :( I guess she’s just had a sneak peek into Flynn’s shades-of-black world, where every action, every choice, even the most humane, inevitably leads to someone getting hurt. :(

On a side note (and since we’re on the topic of hurt Flynn :)), did you spot that when he returns from 1780 and rants about 50 muskets, he’s got a wound on his arm? And he pays it no heed? Someone needs to make a wounded!Flynn gifset, of that moment and of his stitches from the pilot ep. Ahem. That reminded me of another thing that’s been bothering me, if you don’t mind duscussing it. From what we have been shown, Flynn never shies away from a fight or a shootuot. He seems both competent and fearless. But when he’s telling Wyatt how his family was killed in Watergate episode (“we call them silencers but they’re not that silent”), and Wyatt asks why he didn’t fight back, his reply (and Goran’s delivery) sound almost like a set of… excuses. “It was dark, bullets were flying, there were too many of them”. He covers his face when he says that, too, and then quickly forces the conversation back to Rittenhouse. Am I seeing things, or does this really look a little like Flynn is ashamed or hiding something? What do you think?

They each want the other to be who they want them to be. They’re projecting. But, it should be noted, they are still not devoid of similarities or understanding or even an interest in being in each other’s company. So I am just really looking forward to seeing them both… not “settling”… but accepting each other for who they are instead of what they’ve read or who they wish they were. Sign me up. I want ten seasons.

Yes, exactly! :) I really love how you phrased it. ♥

(Also, sorry this is so long and rambley!)

That’s one of the reasons I love Timeless so much. Like yeah, it’s fun to make up theories. But just expanding upon and drawing attention to what subtleties are already there is super great fun. Many layers to this show. I stand by the belief that the writers still intend to make Flynn and Lucy team up one day. The journal will come true. We’ll get there. Everything along the way is just a bump in the road. Makes for an interesting ride, yeah?

I mean, just when Flynn says, “So my family is still dead. And Rittenhouse survived. And it’s your fault.” And calling it, “the mess you made.” I think right now it makes him feel better to blame someone, and she’s his best target. (Even though he was having his own reservations about it!) Hers is the betrayal he never saw coming. Because he thought he had all the answers and that the journal was indelible. I’m sure he does feel very alone now. You’re so right.

I DID notice her faces as he was berating her!

She does feel sorry for Flynn. And on some level she feels the guilt Flynn is trying to force on her, but she still knows she made the right choice. She would make it again. (I mean..... I'm pretty sure she would? She was researching where to find John in the future. Under Flynn's orders, of course, but still. She was complying?) She does want Flynn to succeed and bring his family back to life. No doubts there. She just had to draw the line at murdering a child, even if it meant Flynn’s remained dead. But it does beg the very important question of how many other lines in the sand Lucy would let Flynn cross before she intervened. Because she just stood there watching when he killed Rittenhouse. Lucy is constantly weighing Flynn’s goal against what it costs today and trying to decide if it’s worth it. But she does want him to bring his family back. She does. So despite how Flynn might feel right now, Lucy is on his side. She just can’t go as extreme as him, not against her own moral code and not against recorded history. If it was easier, if no one had to die, if history could remain intact, I don’t doubt she would willingly help him. (Can I point out though that one of the main pillars in her argument against killing John, twice used, is that there were other followers and his death ensured nothing? So... I wonder just how different the discussion would go if John’s death was a 100% guarantee towards saving Flynn’s family.)

I did see Flynn’s injury!

Boo-boo. He got himself hurt. Such a tough guy though. Such a manly man. Doesn't even seem to notice. I'm sure he's had worse. Wyatt's shot to the shoulder (neck? shoulder/neck area?) was worse I think. (And yas. Give me all that hurt Flynn. I want that man to have so many scars. He shot Wyatt in return, didn’t he? lol. They’re scar buddies! Wacky fun.) But I guess that's when he gave up trying to infiltrate Rittenhouse's compound. Got hurt. Cut his losses. Still, man, screw semi-automatics. Go back with fricking full on automatics. I know he has one. He used it on Rittenhouse agents in 1.06. (Old timey one in 1.09. More I’m sure.) Snipe them from the trees. Grenade launcher. Tear gas. The possibilities are almost endless. Can I just say... Can I suggest... A nice touch when they arrived at the house in 1.10 would have been if Arnold commented that security was even tighter than usual and someone replied saying, "We suffered a major assault a few days ago. He's taking no chances." Which would have been Flynn in the beginning of 1.11. It's stuff like that which really makes something pop in the time travel genre. Come on, Timeless.

You do make a point, yeah. Flynn’s delivery in the story of his family’s deaths is a little... hesitant, stilted. Granted, he is giving his very personal story to an adversary, a man who doesn’t even believe him when he says it and is undoubtedly tearing apart every aspect for its credibility.

Flynn has definite survivor's guilt about that night. Severe survivor’s guilt. Super. (If it were a contest, I would submit that his is worse than Wyatt’s, but this is not the sort of thing you hold contests about.) I don't doubt Flynn would give up his own life to bring them back. He already considers his life as it was forfeit. He considers that man to be dead. He has no purpose beyond killing Rittenhouse and righting their wrongs. I really want to see that night played out in a flashback (goodness, for SO many reasons), but I'm not sure what he'd be ashamed of, going off what facts we do have. By the time he became aware enough to get out of bed and fight back, his wife and daughter were already dead. Although, ya know big stab to the heart, it was his actions that caused their deaths, however unintentional and unknowing.

I'm sure Flynn has replayed that night in his head so many times and has identified every little thing he could have done differently. He thinks what would have happened if he got up to check on their daughter instead. But he has to rationalize that they would all three be dead in that instance-- Rittenhouse catching him more unaware without the two gunshots to warn him. And how horrible is it that the sound of his wife and daughter being murdered is the very alarm that kept Flynn alive? They died because of him, and he lived because of them. .....................Let that sink in. Heavy stuff. Painful stuff. That’s twofold survivor’s guilt. He has so many reasons to feel guilty, though none of them are really his fault. And I’d wager if his account about that night sounds like an excuse, it’s probably because he’s had to excuse it to himself. In the past two years, he has, over and over, had to tell himself that he had to make it out that night. Everything had to happen as it did. His wife had to check on their daughter. He had to give up fighting. He had to flee. He had to leave them there. He tries to excuse his actions that night because he knows it’s necessary. He tells himself the entire course of events was necessary. He has to survive so he can bring them back. It’s just really hard to rationalize it though.

And you are right. Flynn doesn’t back down from a fight. He really pushes his recklessness sometimes. But, as commented on above, he seems to know when to cut his losses. Live today, fight tomorrow. Though I’m sure he only did so after he knew for certain that his family was dead. He wouldn’t leave them there otherwise. I like to believe Flynn did fight back at first. Because his first excuse is, “There were too many of them.” He maybe picked off a few before he realized how many there were. They kept coming. And if they saw him, they shot at him. Bullets everywhere. There’s really no telling how accessible guns were in Flynn’s family home, but I’m sure he had at least one near. However, disoriented, unprepared, in the dark, outmanned, lacking firepower, emotionally compromised, Flynn knew they had the advantage. And yet he either stayed long enough to try killing them anyway or there were so many that even in retreat, they almost killed him. Because he barely made it out alive.

Now, what I REALLY want to see is a flashback of Flynn after the battle. I want to know how he escaped. I want to know how badly he was injured. And though it will be the death of me, I want to see him the moment he’s able to stop running, the moment when it all comes slamming into him and he has to acknowledge what just happened and that his family is dead. I’ve seen Goran’s acting so far. I know this one would kill me. Like dead. Just dead. Straight dead. But I’m willing to risk it.

#uglybusiness #TD Reply #I really need some flashbacks of that night #So many flashbacks from all the characters #Very necessary #And hey #I don't wanna keep sounding like an overreaching crazy #but it is... questionable #that we've never seen a picture of Flynn's family #but we've seen like half-a-dozen of Jessica #If Flynn is doing this for them #how is he not constantly looking at their picture for reassurance and strength?#At a certain point their lack of presence becomes suspicious #Liiiiiiiiike... oh I dunno...... maybe his wife is a character we already know #but we can't know that yet #Timeless

3 notes · View notes

accio-ambition · 7 years ago

Photo

And here we are: another week, another update. Four million and six thank yous to @sotheylived, @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, and everyone over at @captainswanbigbang, for this would be absolutely nothing without any of you :)

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset

Chapter Seven

Gaining her sea legs is a bit of a challenge, but after ten minutes on the water – the Jolly Roger isn’t even out of the sound yet – Emma begins to steady. It’s all in the knees, she finds, along the lines of ice skating: bent knees are better for absorbing the shocks. She’ll probably have a bump on her knee from knocking into the walls of the ship – the hard way of learning that lesson – but it’s a surface injury.

“You’re a natural, love,” Jones shouts from the captain’s hut as they finally hit open water. She turns with the camera to catch his brilliant smile. “I’ll be able to add you to my roster in no time.”

Behind the viewfinder, she scoffs. “Please, Captain, don’t you have a boat to steer?” she responds, focusing back on Scarlet and Robin preparing some ropes for the first throw of the season.

Even from her spot on the deck, she can hear his groan. “Ship,” Jones says, “it’s a ship, Swan, not a little dingy boat.”

She believes herself to be doing well: she’s only fallen on her ass once so far and that’s because she missed a step going down to interview Whale in the galley. She’s been on the boat – ship, one of these days she’ll remember – for half an hour, so she’ll be fine.

Right?

Nope, not at all.

The true test comes once they get out of the sound. Jeff and the Jolly Roger’s crew had explained the basic layout of the general harbor: the docks lead out to a sound where boats pass one another in their comings and goings at a slow speed, sort of like a merging zone on a highway. Once they float past the end of a certain jetty, the captains are allowed to proceed full speed in whatever direction they desired to go that day.

It’s when Robin and Whale shout at her to take a hold of something that Emma notices the wind picking up. It seems that Jones is going to nail the gas pedal until they get to their first destination, something that his seasoned crew is prepared for, but she – being the new guy and the one without any background in boats – is not. She finds herself on the ground in a hot second, her back sliding and bumping into the aft of the ship the next, and her grip on the camera dangerously loose.

Unwilling to test her chance at standing, Emma sits, curled in the fetal position at the back of the boat, for probably 15 minutes, until her hair begins to settle into a mess at her shoulders and the crew comes toward her.

“Are you alright there, Emma?” Robin asks, offering her a hand up.

She gratefully takes it, hoisting herself back to standing, and just steadies herself for a second. “Yeah,” she assures him, “I should be fine for now.”

“We’ll be sure to give ya a bit more warning next time,” Scarlet assures her, standing in the doorway heading below deck. And then, yelling into a walkie-talkie, he says, “Isn’t that right, cap’n?”

Jones’ voice crackles back, “I don’t rightfully care unless you lot are throwing the cages into the ocean.”

“Well, you heard the captain,” Whale shouts. Clapping his hands, he jogs to the pile of cages on the side of the ship. “To work, boys!”

Not getting in the way of their work, being a fly on the wall like she’s supposed to be, proves a lot more difficult than Emma originally thought. She’s got no sense of what the guys are going to do yet, except that she’s usually in the middle of the way. When they come to a new trawling grounds, Robin kindly tells her to move this way or that so they can throw the cages into the ocean as fast as possible. She throws Scarlet many a glare after he uses some colorful language to give her the same message. And Whale – she’d rather not think about it.

(Honestly, it’s a miracle that she doesn’t give him a black eye for the things he did to get her to move.)

She bumps into people and objects so many times that she’ll be surprised if she gets one second of good footage today. Luckily, nothing major happened – no broken bones or men overboard. It’s something that she, David, and Jeff accounted for, some time at the beginning of the endeavor to get the lay of the land, or the deck in this case.

In total, Emma comes home from her first day – about nine hours total, from leaving the last step of her front porch to the moment her toes touch the same stair – with that knee bump, two toes that feel broken, a slew of bruises up her right arm, some scratches on her back, and shoulders tense from unused camera-holding muscles. She feels used and raw and beaten. She’s never felt so productive in her life.

Walking in the front door shortly after dark, she leans against the wood and sighs happily. She leverages herself just enough to kick off her sneakers and sink into the entrance rug.

“Mom?” Henry’s voice echoes through the halls of mostly-built furniture and empty cardboard boxes. His face peeks around the corner of the living room. “How was your first day?”

“Pretty good,” she answers as she follows her son into the living room. Mary Margaret is sitting on the couch and cranes her neck over the back to smile at Emma. “David should be already home.”

“He is,” her friend says casually. “He texted me about an hour ago.”

“Then why are you still here?” Emma asks, shuffling into the kitchen. Despite being around it all day, she’s dying for a glass of water and then, maybe once Henry’s in bed, something a little stronger. To, you know, ease her wounds and unwind or whatever.

Mary Margaret’s voice is closer, coming from the other side of the counter when she says, “I wanted to make sure Henry was okay.” Turning around, Emma tilts her head, a sign of comfort and appreciation. “And I wanted to hear about your first day.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s similar to your husband’s first day.” She downs the entire glass in one go, pouring and starting to drink a second one before continuing. “Different names, but same general idea.”

“And he’ll tell me all about his day when I get home.” Skirting the island, Mary Margaret comes and rests her hand on Emma’s arm. “You’ve been around practical strangers all day, Emma. I just want to offer you someone you know to share any grievances or stories from your day.”

Raising her eyebrow, Emma qualifies: “So you want to pretend to be my boyfriend? I don’t know how your husband will feel about that.”

Mary Margaret shrugs. “I want to make sure you know that whatever’s happened in the past is in the past.” Dragging her hand down to meet Emma’s, Mary Margaret gives her a hopeful squeeze. “David and I are always here for you and Henry. Even if that means babysitting or picking Henry up when you’re running late or whatever.”

Emma shifts forward to hug her. “I know, Mary Margaret. I know.” And she does. Or she’s learning to rely on others after years of relying on herself. “Thanks, but it’s been a long day. I just want to hang out with Henry before he goes to sleep and then end the night with a drink and maybe some Supergirl.”

“Well, I won’t be in the way much longer,” Mary Margaret says, grabbing some stuff from kitchen table. She turns to both of them. “You guys are coming over for dinner Friday night.”

Chuckling, Emma takes another sip of water. “That sounds like a statement and not a question.”

“It’s not. You’re coming.” Mary Margaret leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the top of Henry’s head before turning back to Emma. “Enjoy your night.”

“You too, Mary Margaret. Have a nice evening with your husband.”

Mary Margaret winks as she leaves and Emma shudders at the mental image that pops to mind. She hears the front door close as she’s facing to Henry.

“Alright, kid, shouldn’t we be getting ready for bed?”

“But Mooom,” her son whines. He’s hunched over his game controller, staring intently at the TV screen. “I’m so close to completing this mission.”

Emma sighs and picks up the extra controller. “Can I be any help?”

“Yeah.” Pausing the game quickly, Henry turns on her and fixes her with a pointed glare. “But then we both finish this mission and the next one.”

Groaning, she resignedly relents. “Ugh, fine. Then bed. No questions.”

Goofy smile on his face, Henry puts his attention back to the screen and plugs her into the game. “Deal.”

0000

By the end of her first week of work, Emma’s gotten the hang of things. Sort of. Jones gives her a heads up as to what his plan the next day is so she can plan what sort of shots she’s going to try and get. He gives her a time of departure every day and she mostly makes it on time. She mostly stays out of everybody’s way, but since it’s the beginning of the season, the stakes aren’t as high. Everyone – captain included – is dusting off their trawling instincts.

Robin is definitely the most helpful of the crew, the most compassionate. Something about having kids creates the ultimate bond between even the most unlikely of compatriots. Emma realizes that on her second day when, before leaving port, Robin gives her a run through of where she should stand or go when certain things happen. While Whale and Scarlet load the galley with snacks and games in what little off time they’ll have, Robin’s trying to teach her trawling 101 on the fly.

Their conversation fades into small talk, Emma revealing small, unimportant bits of her story to further cement her and Robin’s friendship. She succeeds in her mission if him telling her that he and Regina recently found out they're expecting a baby is any indication. Even for people she barely knows, she’s ecstatic for them.

“You can’t tell anyone, though,” Robin makes her promise as he’s coiling rope. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy until told otherwise. Even the lads don’t know.”

Miming zipping her mouth closed, Emma grins. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Robin returns the smile tenfold. Leaning closer to her, he whispers conspiratorially, “I just really wanted to tell someone. It’s quite exciting.”

Scarlet, it seems, has adopted her as his little sister. He teases her at the most inappropriate moments and makes her laugh during the best shots of the day, therefore rendering them almost unusable. The few times he’s seen her about town, Scarlet stops what he’s doing, no matter how important, and takes a few minutes to walk with her.

Whale, on the other hand, is still a sleaze. Her first impression wasn’t wrong about that. But he seems to soften when Emma approaches the topic of the diner or, more specifically, Ruby. Maybe there’s a chance he is partially human after all. She’s made several mental notes to set those two up, give them a slight nudge in each other’s directions.

The only person who she still doesn’t know where she stands with is Jones himself. He’d made attempts to befriend her at the Fourth of July shindig, and a few times in the days since, but there’s just something about him that doesn’t click with her.

(She knows what it is, in the deep recesses of her mind. Emma doesn’t want to connect with him because she fears she’ll connect with him. It’s much safer for her and Henry if she doesn’t, if she just keeps things cordial and professional.)

It’s an unspoken agreement between the two of them that things stay work-related unless Liam is around. He acts as a buffer, an older brother to both of them, with teasing and scolding and such. Things don’t seem as awkward with Liam around, and for that, Emma is grateful.

Before she knows it, Emma is flipping her calendar – homemade, a birthday gift from Henry last year with pictures of them on their various adventures – to August. A month until school starts and a month since she started this gig. A little over a month since they moved to Storybrooke.

“It’s been a good month,” she mutters to herself before going to empty the dishwasher and start on dinner. “Hopefully that’s a good sign.”

#csbb #captain swan big bang #captain swan #ouat #cs ff #my words #storytime #ditlot #friends!#were all making friends!#and theyve survived one whole month in Storybrooke!#no ones died!

71 notes · View notes