#what a good place for killian to die <3

[captainswanwriter]

Kansas - Missing Scene - One Shot

Summary: This story takes place in those moments that were missing from Season 3 Episode 20, “Kansas”, right after Emma saves Killian from his dry-land drowning mishap. The writers/producers/directors really knew how to set up CS fans to leave them wanting more moments, but then never gave them to us. This is one of many that I think about a lot and wish we had more of Emma and Killian. Of course, this is more whump and fluff than television allows for, but a writer/fan can always dream…and write it themselves. Haha!

Author’s Note: Of course, none of these characters belong to me, no matter how much I wish they did. I thank ABC for giving us this sandbox to play in. 

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“Swan,” Hook begs Emma. “What did you do?”

Emma sits back on her heels and takes a breath. “I, um…”

Hook pushes himself up from the muddy ground as best he can. Emma pulls him up into a sitting position and leans his body against the pool's outer edge that nearly drowned him. More water comes out of his lungs as he violently twists to his side to cough. The coughing becomes so harsh that his body convulses as he gags on the remaining water aggravating his throat, but nothing comes up. Emma can sense the panic rushing through him.

“Just take it easy, Hook. Try and focus on breathing.” She rubs her hand over his shaking back to comfort him.

With the coughing finally under control, he repeats his question. “What did you do, Swan?” Looking into her eyes, he understands the answer and is unhappy.

“Now, how are we supposed to defeat Zelena?”

“Was I supposed to let you die?”

“If it meant preserving your magic to keep everyone else safe from the witch? Yes!”

“Well, it’s done.”

Emma stands up and reaches her hand down to Hook. He looks up at her solemnly, still upset with her decision to save his life.

“Come on, Killian. Let’s get back to the hospital. Hopefully, the baby hasn’t come yet, and there’s still time.”

She pulls him up from the muddy ground, but he sways slightly once on his feet. Emma grabs his bicep to steady him.

“Hook? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head slightly and takes some slow, shallow breaths. He touches his hand to his chest.

“A little light-headed, love. And there’s this tightness when I try to breathe.”

Emma softens her expression so as not to worry him. She knows that none of what he is experiencing is a good sign. 

“You drowned, Hook. Let’s get you back to the hospital, and we can have Whale look at you.”

Hook nods slightly in agreement and walks alongside her to the car. He stumbles slightly, and before he can object, Emma loops his arm around her, and she supports him the rest of the way. They reach the car, and she pulls a blanket from the trunk to help keep him warm once she gets him settled.

“Thank you, Swan. Truly, I…”

“Shh…just try to stay warm until we return to the hospital. I just hope Zelena doesn’t get there before we do.”

Hook lifts the heavy blanket under his chin and thinks warm thoughts. Emma blasts as much heat as the little yellow bug can provide. Hook’s drowsy eyes can no longer stay open between the heat and the blanket's warmth. He finally lets them close briefly, only to wake moments later.

He opens his eyes when he feels his body shift and cool air breezing towards him. Emma opens the door as she tries to maneuver him out of his seat.

“Hook, you need to help me out here.”

He forces his body to respond to her commands and quickly moves from the car.

“I’m alright, Swan. I’m a little…a lot, wet, but other than that, I’m fine. Let’s get to your parents.”

Emma approaches the front desk and asks for Snow White and Prince Charming. A nurse directs, “Second floor, room 216 - end of the hall on your left.” 

“Thank you,” Emma says, “And he needs medical attention.” She points to Hook while speaking with the nurse, but Hook is already heading toward the stairwell. 

“Never mind.” she rolls her eyes, saying, “Excuse us.”

They head up the stairs, and at the top of the second-floor platform, Hook stops to press on his chest as another cough rips through him.

“Hook…” he ignores her and focuses on relaxing his body.

“Killian!” she says, louder now, twisting his body to face hers. “Please, let Dr. Whale check out your lungs.”

“Swan,” he says, clearly struggling between his words. “I’ll be fine. Do you think this is the first time I have taken in some water in my unnaturally long life?”

“So, you’ve drowned before?”

“Ay…not, on dry land, but yes.”

“Well, still you should….”

There is a commotion coming from Mary Margaret’s hallway. Emma hears her father and Regina, voices raised. Emma pushes past Hook, and he follows behind.

“What’s going on here?” Emma asks.

____________________________________________

After Zelena’s defeat, everyone returns to the hospital to present Snow with her rescued newborn. Snow, Charming, and Henry are all fawning over the new baby. At the same time, Emma leans against the doorframe and admires her beautiful family from afar—a gentle smile of appreciation tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“I never thought I’d see one of those.”

Emma chuckles at Killian’s observation. “It’s called a baby.” 

“No, Swan. The smile.”

Emma smiles wider at Hook and says, “We won.”

Hook looks into her eyes as he hesitates to say what he needs to say. “With all of the chaos, I never got a chance to say thank you.”

“You really think I’d let you drown?”

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

Gesturing to her hands, he asks, “Has your power returned now that Zelena has been defeated?”

Emma looks from Hook to her hands and says, “Nope. That’s okay. I won’t need it in New York.”

The smile on Hook’s face falls away into a solemn gaze as Emma turns to walk into Snow’s hospital room. He watches the beautiful family reunion momentarily before returning to the waiting area. His breathing becomes slightly heavier than usual, so he sits in a chair. The room is spinning, and the air feels thinner than it did moments ago. A nurse walks over to him and touches his hand. It’s ice cold.

“Sir. Sir! Are you okay?”

Hook tries taking a slow, deep breath to quell nausea, but the air gets trapped, and he starts coughing. In between each cough, he responds to the woman sitting before him.

“Can’t breathe, love.”

The young nurse runs over to the desk and speaks into the PA system calling for a doctor. Hearing the commotion, Emma comes up the hallway and sees Hook falling out of his chair, looking paler than he had moments ago. She kneels in front of him and grabs his hand.

“Hook. What’s happening?”

The nurse answers before he can. “Trouble breathing, and he’s ice cold. I paged a doctor, and we will bring him to an exam room.”

“I can carry him.” Emma stands and brings Hook’s left arm around her shoulders so she can support him. His clothes are still damp from earlier in the day, and his body is ice cold.

“Miss, that’s not….”

“Which room?”

“We need to wait for the….”

“What room?” Emma asks louder.

The nurse rolls her eyes. “Room 201”.

Emma whispers to Hook, “Hold on to me,” she walks him to the room and gets him settled on the bed before another coughing fit wracks his body. Once he calms down, the nurse checks his vitals. She can hear the rattle in his lungs as she listens with the stethoscope. 

“Sherriff, can you tell me anything about his condition? When did his symptoms start?”

“He, uh, drowned earlier today. I revived him, but he couldn’t have been unconscious for more than five minutes.”

The nurse looks at her gently, “Sometimes that’s all it takes.” She continues her physical examination of Hook, pressing all around his rib cage. “Did you administer CPR?”

Realizing how complicated it would be to explain how he was cursed and she just needed to kiss him, she goes with a more straightforward answer. “Once I could reach him, he was alert and choking on the water in his lungs. I turned him on his side to help him.”

“Okay, so no cracked ribs, at least. I’ll note that and get the doctor in here right away.”

Emma moves closer to Hook and holds his hand in her own. “Thank you.”

Hook lifts his eyes to meet Emma. “Sorry, love. I know you were spending time with your new brother.”

She shakes her head at him, saying, “It’s okay, Hook. I’ll have plenty of time with him before I leave for New York. We need to make sure you’re okay. I told you we should have had Whale look at you.”

Quietly he says, “You were right, Swan, as always.” Exhausted, Hook closes his eyes while they wait on Dr. Whale. He falls asleep almost immediately. Emma pulls a chair alongside his bed and grasps his hand so he knows she is still with him.

Gently, she whispers, “Rest, Killian. I need you to be okay.” Hesitantly, she lifts her other hand to a stray hair hanging loose over his forehead and brushes it back. Her hand rests at the base of his skull, and she can’t help but continuously twirl her fingers through his soft hair. His face softens slightly as he sleeps.

—------------

A little while later, Dr. Whale finishes his examination of Hook.

“Well, the good news is that you’ll live.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “And the bad news…?”

“Bad news is that he needs downtime to recover. Even though he was only down a few minutes, he’s experiencing a lot of difficulty breathing – which is normal – but he needs to rest.”

“I told you we should have had him look at you sooner, Hook!” He rolls his eyes and turns to look back at Dr. Whale.

“So, Whale…what else?” Emma asks.

“Well, he might show signs of fatigue more quickly. And behavioral changes are common too. I would recommend avoiding alcohol for the time being.”

Now, Hook interrupts. “Well, I hardly think that that’s….”

 Another fit of gagging coughs wracks Hook’s body before he can finish his sentence. Emma’s eyes widen as she tries to figure out to help him. She helps him sit forward and supports his back throughout this episode. Once it seems like his body is calming, she helps him lay back against the pillows and makes him more comfortable.

“Hook…I want to keep you here overnight to ensure you’re okay. It isn’t long ago that you cracked several ribs, and now this drowning incident…it’s a lot for the lungs to handle.”

Hook looks over at Emma, and she only glares back, telling him he will be staying.

“Looks like I’m staying the night, Whale.”

“Great. Well, I’ll have the nurses bring you something more comfortable, some extra blankets…maybe a robe again. It gets drafty here, especially at night.”

“Thanks, Whale.” Emma puts a hand on Hook’s shoulder and smiles gently.

“Swan…love, you don’t need to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

Emma is skeptical of his motives for sending her away from his room, but she trusts him to listen to Whale.

“Now that I know you’re okay, I’m visiting my new brother briefly. I’ll stop in again before I leave, though.”

Hook nods and gives Emma a scrunched smile, wishing she would stay with him. The nurse comes in with the items Dr. Whale asked for, and they help him get set up for the night.

A while later, Emma returns to the room with David coming to check on Hook. They walk through the door only to find Hook asleep. David signals that he will return to Mary Margaret’s room, and Emma waves good night.

Quietly, she moves to tiptoe back out of the room but spots a blanket and pillow on the tray in front of his bed. She removes her winter coat and hangs it off the back of the plastic chair. With her pillow propped behind her back and the blanket gently draped across her body, a series of yawns and rapid blinks indicate her own exhaustion after today's events. As she dozes off, she looks at Hook and whispers, “I’m right here, Killian. I’m not going anywhere.”

THE END.

[gayday]

Alright, there's a trolley about to run over 3 people tied to the tracks but you can switch a lever to make the trolley move to a different track where there is one person tied. Tell me how you and your OCs would answer this and why

Me personally? theoretically id switch it, but cuz yknow i donttt do well under pressure and the best i could do is panic :3 realistically I'd likely just freeze & do nothig id be like HOW DO I WOPRK A TRAIN LEVER THING WHAT IF I BREAK IT mods help hep DDDD: dont get tied to train tracks near me you will be dying

oc time!

Trevor: I'd switch it? Duh (in head: how heavy is a trainn lever omg how much time do i have whgat is the situation who r these ppl who tied them there what am i douing there what if i get blamed for tying them up and arrested?? why are they tied unevenly to the tracks like why not put them all on one track... what kind of hypothetical hell have i been placed in.)

Alistair: Fuck it, I'm not moving it, not my problem. (in his head hes going like ':((( but i dont want 2 hurt anyone' cuz hes basically incapable of being sincere out loud lol)

Kenny: XD id kill them all >:3c mwahahahaha

David: (Goes on long long autistic monologue about the trolley problem and ethics in general, never addresses the question and forgets what he was talking about by the end)

Jasper: (Tries to make a case but just ends up a stammering mess and panics cuz he doesn't wanna be wrong, says sorry like 50 times)

Teo: Are you like a cop or what? Go away, weirdo.

Ashley: Ahhh so scary I don't wanna be groceryies!!! (she is thinking of this kind of trolley)

Lena: SCAREY, WOULD NOT GO NEAR IT, SORRY UR DYING !!! (has a phobia of large machinery)

Zhen: Of course I'd switch it, I'm a monster not a monster. (lying, he thinks it would be kinda fun and cool to watch the 3 people get run over)

Yasha: *Heard the word trolley and got so hard he got nauseous* I think I hauve covid

Felix: Switch it, I don't really have that guilt anymore I've seen way too many people die, but obviously less people dying is good (Lie, he would go home and cry no matter what he chose)

Ethan: Can I jump in front of the trolley too? I don't think I'd stop it but thats a cool way to die.

Ori: But... but... not... real? No trolley... no understand and... no want kill...

Killian: (visibly high) ...what?

Destery: I think I'd just turn the lever back and forth as fast as I could, and like whatever happens happens

Kye: ... yea I don't think I can do anything about this situation (Has 0 working arms)

Dalton: I uh... how would I know... which way is the right one... (Is blind)

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife chapter 12

Today’s review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 12

“Your Firstlife sets the stage for your Second.” —Troika

Full offence, but Archer literally told Clay that you will be forgiven for anything in Troika. So you should totally sign with them, go party, murder some people, etc etc… And then die. 

This book has yet to tell us exactly what the point of living a long firstlife is. Life sounds goddamned miserable. Like you’re the civilians caught up in another country’s war. 

And then it sounds like you’re going to be nothing but cannon fodder once you die. 

Maybe Ten should roll the dice and hope that there’s something better after she dies in secondlife. 

When I ask to speak with the owner, she gives me a tsk-tsk.

 “You wanting a piece of him? Don’t try to deny it. Girls just can’t seem to keep their hands off his goods and services.”

Why is this author so goddamned obsessed with sex? I’m not sure that we’ve had a single chapter where a character didn’t say something along these lines, even in passing. 

“I saw his body. And I used his severed hand to open the gate and free you.”

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you can 100% survive without a hand. 

“How old are you? Really?”

 “I’m seventeen.” His chest puffs up with pride. “A mature seventeen.”

Why the hell is nobody in this book over 20? And the older ones are the bad guys. 

I open the door to find the boy—probably three or four—clutching a stuffed teddy bear to his chest.

[...]

“You can’t tell I’m a Shell?”

[...]

“Weren’t you listening, blondie? Or is the air in your head clogging your ears? I’m not on duty, so I’m not signing no one. All I expect from you is a hand job.”

Maybe the author thought that she was being funny and edgy with the constant sex “jokes”. But the fact that she had the angel in the body of a 3 or 4 year old is honestly so icky. 

I hope that the author got put on a watchlist for this scene. 

Get to the airport, get to the States. 

If you could run anywhere, why the fuck are you going to go to USA? 

Nah man, send me to the goddamned south of France. It’s the last place anybody would think to look for me. 

We HART You! Humans Against Realm Turmoil! 

Don’t Believe the Lies! Realms Are Simply a Way to Control You!

I want to hear more from these HART people. They’re the only ones with seemingly any ounce of logic and free thinking. 

“Hawaii,” I say, making a split-second decision. I’ll be far from LA—and my parents—but close to water. “ 

I t ’ s s e t t l e d t h e n , ” t h e p i l o t s a y s. “ G o a h e a d a n d b o a r d a n d w e ’ l l t a k e o ff.” [I don’t know why the hell it’s like that, and I am NOT fixing it]

Chapter 12 summary: Sloan and Ten go to the B&B Archer told them about, where they hand over the “coin”, and get put into a room. That night, Ten has a dream about her mentally ill auntie. About how she’d always talk about Ten in the past tense, and usually stuff like “I’m sorry you died.” When Ten was 13, her father completely cut his sister out from their lives, and refused to talk about her anymore. When she wakes up, she finds that Killian visited in the middle of the night. He’d left her two bracelets that have garroting wire in them. 

The girls eat breakfast and put on new clothes that were given to them. As they’re discussing what their next move should be, a little boy shows up at their room. It’s actually the hotel owner, a rogue Troikan angel who was put on probation after selling angelic drugs to humans. He says that he owed Archer a favour, and he’s not doing it for either of them. 

As they’re being driven to the airport, they discuss their future plans. Sloan’s backstory is that her granny wanted to force her not only into signing with Myriad, but also in marrying a man twice her age. Like Ten, she wants to make it to 18 so that she can be freed of her guardian forcing her to be tortured until she gives in. Then, she plans to torch her family’s estate. There are also signs along the highway advertising both Troika, Myriad, but also the anti-realm group, HART. 

The airport is super sketchy, but they realise they have no choice. Killian is there, and Ten wastes no time in calling him out on his shit. That he’s the reason why Clay died. Killian is like “Who cares? So another human died.” Although it’s hard to say if he doesn’t give a shit about humans in general, or specifically those who’ve signed with Troika. 

Ten goes over to the pilot, who she thinks is unsigned. He asks her where they’re going, and she says Hawaii. 

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 7x22 Leaving Storybrooke

Omg it’s the finale! This is wild! To think I started writing my thoughts on each episode every week on April 6th, 2019. It’s been very nearly 3 years! And now here we are! It’s been so fun and I’ve loved having this little outlet to express myself. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed rewatching and analysing. What a journey it’s been. Thank you to everyone who’s read or interacted with these posts in any way! I hope you stick around to read my views on Once Upon a Time in Wonderland starting next week!  

Here we go, me writing an ouat recap one last time!

The dwarfs! Granny! Archie!

Good Lord, Margot nearly ran Grumpy over! You just know it’s cause she didn’t have her glasses on. Put your glasses on, girl!

Ha! She listened! Cause she definitely wasn’t wearing them at the start of their journey. It must have been a wild and dangerous ride to sb.  

I can’t believe Gothel and Drizella messed up her eyesight for the curse. Drizella was probably jealous of her and Alice and thought, “hmm, I know what I’ll do,…make her wear glasses mwahahahaha!”

Jokes on you, Driz! Her glasses are awesome.

Jesus! Granny was gonna straight up shoot them with a crossbow! What the hell Granny?! That’s extreme. Now they’re running at them with pickaxes! Oh my God!  

Love Alice and Robin’s little adventure.

Zelena! I missed you!

Little Robin sticking her tongue out at her older self and older Robin looking horrified lol.

It must be so weird for past!Zelena to see her grown up daughter. And I guess for Robin to see her younger self.

“… that magic bean hiding in the cupboard.” Of course there is. Rumple is screaming in the distance.

There in the snow globe! I got caught in the snow on Thursday. It was suddenly like a blizzard. It’s weird it was snowing in March but it’s not the first time that’s happened. But my poor doggy, Happi, got caught in it too and she has a cold. Luckily, she had her adorable winter coat on, and we carried her like a princess, wrapping her in my own coat like a burrito for good measure. She seemed to enjoy herself haha.  

Oh! How have I never caught this part?! Wish Rumple, or rather Wish Henry, stripped Rumple of his powers and immortality! So, Rumple’s kinda got what he wanted already. Wow, the Author is so freaking powerful that he can even take the Dark One’s power away. I always wondered how Rumple could suddenly die so easily. The only issue is that if his magic was taken, he shouldn’t have been able to rip out his own heart. And also, he probably should have taken out Wish Hook’s own heart first. Though I’m guessing that was impossible and maybe Hook’s shrunk like in Wicked with Boq.

Jared is so good at being a villain. I remember Lana was so proud. Me too Lana. Me too. Remember when he was ten???!

Where do they all get these magic-hindering cuffs from? I thought Pan made them? There even in the Wish Realm? I guess Wish Pan could have brought them with him.

But he hasn’t saved her. He’s a different Henry.

The way he grabs her arm and slashes her hand. Ruthless!

In the Wish Realm stories are written in blood and tears? I thought the Wish Realm was a happy place, where the good guys prevailed over the Evil Queen. I’ve been lied to!

I know Regina loved Robin but come on?? Facilier’s only just died! I would have preferred if she had seen Facilier in her dream, but I am biased.

Is Regina having some kinda magic dream here? Did Robin’s supposedly destroyed soul somehow make his way into Regina’s dream? Or else, how did she get the feather?  

Aww Rumple and Wish Killian bonding!  

The fact that Alice had Maui’s Hook suggests she must have wished for it. Her wish magic is so powerful and was so underutilised! She can summon things from other realms. She can summon anything! I wonder if she can summon people across realms. I would have thought she could if she just wished for them.

And now I’m sad, because, if only Killian had used Maui’s hook to free Alice straight away. *cries forever*

I love that they make it clear Alice still has magic. I think that the only additional powers she had as the Guardian were the abilities to sense the dagger and absorb the darkness.

The way Alice shakes herself as though scolding herself after she approaches her father. I’ve shook myself like that so many times. And Robin’s right there to comfort her straight away.

Oh, he is King Henry! I thought so.  

Did Wish Henry run out of ink? I guess Cruella’s hair only contained so much.

I’m still sad they didn’t make the Blue Fairy the ultimate big bad of the show. They had such an opportunity in s6, and it would have made so much sense. God, I wish she was the final villain and had a villain monologue about how she orchestrated everything and how she even played Rumplestiltskin so that he’d cast the first dark curse. She was the one who told him about the curse in the first place. God, it would have been the perfect end. In my heart she’s the big bad. I do feel sorry for the Wish Blue fairy. She’s gonna live out her worst nightmare forever. That sucks.  

Rumple is sad that the magic of the Guardian is gone, and he seems to believe that because of that he’ll never be able to get back to Belle, but all the Guardian could do was free him of the darkness. Isn’t the darkness technically gone if his Dark One magic and immortality have been taken. I guess the darkness could still live within him.

Poor Killian. Alice needs you! Stay strong, buddy!

Aww Robin asking for his blessing.

Curious Archer have been courting for 10 years. Holy bananas! It makes me wonder if there were laws in the NEF preventing them from getting married.  

And they’re both so happy! This is so sweet!

Robin: “I don’t care what we’re up against. No matter what, you are walking Alice down that aisle.” God bless.

How’s he gonna take on all those guards on his own? I guess Robin’s gonna shoot arrows at them from afar but still.  

Regina was so freaking scared. It looked like that guard was gonna stab Henry. But then, has Wish Rumple taken over Wish King George’s/Snowing’s castle? Why are they dressed like the Wish Evil Queen’s Guard’s then? It can’t be the Wish Evil Queen’s castle because that was taken over by Split Queen. I’m confused but I’m gonna go with the former option.

Snowing!!!! Babies!! You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you!!

Yeah, the table’s there. It’s definitely Wish King George’s castle. It makes sense that Wish Henry would be there but not that his guards would be dressed like the Evil Queen’s guards.

So, as suggested by the official prop books, Regina’s nightmare prison is on a rock in the middle of the ocean, Snow’s is in some desert (I guess cause her name is Snow), Zelena’s is in the Nautilus (or should we say, on the naughty list), Alice’s is to be trapped in a frozen tundra with trolls (Is she in Arendelle? Because that would be fun. It should have been trapped in the tower again because lbr that would be her worst nightmare), Wish Blue’s is in the creepy woods from the Snow White movie, Charming’s is in Neverland with the Lost Boys (which very nearly happened, of course), Wish Hook’s would be in Wonderland (Ouch! The adventure he never got to go on with Alice) and Lucy’s would be in a tower. Source, pictures and more info here: https://wicked-storybrooke.tumblr.com/post/626242962347655168

Margot holding Tilly’s hand because she must be so traumatised from being imprisoned the first 17 years of her life and now she’s facing the possibility of that again.

Killian doesn’t have the heart to tell Alice that being so near to her is killing him. I wonder if it was made worse by all the time they spent together under the curse. Maybe his heart was corrupted every time they were near each other, but he just couldn’t feel the pain from it.

Oh. I forgot Wish Rumple planned to trap everyone. Charming tells them to scatter throughout the realms so it’s not just the people of the Wish Realm Wish Rumple wants to trap. I have to wonder, to what end? And I hope Snow and Charming and literally everyone else were able to hold onto something rather than fall into their nightmare.  

Snow hope speech!  

I love Snowing so much and I’m so glad they’re here.

Oh! He poured magic on his hand and that’s how he was able to remove his heart.  

Omg Wish Henry and Regina are sword fighting! Uh oh!

Oh, Wish Rumple only opened these guys’ books, so maybe Snow and Charming and everyone else aren’t hanging onto blades of grass for dear life.

Oh my God! Margot nearly fell through! That was so scary. Thank goodness her big cousin Henry saved her.

Oh no! Alice!

Killian’s face when Alice begins to slip!

Margot yelling at her to hold on!

Papa Killian to the rescue.

Wish Rumple’s having the time of his life.

Margot is screaming! She’s so scared for Alice!

Wish Henry’s gonna kill Regina!

Nooo! She slipped!

Killian grabbed her just in time.  

Alice: “Papa, let go!” Wish Hook: “Never!” My heart!

He’s in increasingly excruciating pain every moment he holds on to her, but he would rather die than let his baby girl be alone and imprisoned again. Gaaah! Such an amazing Papa!

And she would rather live out the rest of her days lonely and trapped than let her Papa suffer. My heart’s gonna explode!

Oh, the portals opened because of Wish Henry’s anger, so when his fury subsided the portals closed. I literally never knew that.  

That was a really cool and terrifying sequence!  

I can’t believe he’s hugging her though. She still killed his grandparents and kidnapped his mum as far as he knows.  

No, Killian!

Omg, poor Alice! This is horrible.

Rumple’s so mad that his bro is hurt and that his surrogate daughter is sad.

Rumple: “I have evolved. I am ultimate Rumple on steroids!” Wish Rumple: *throws him across the room*.

She’s shielding her Papa from bad Rumple.

Noooo! She’s crying! This is so freaking heart breaking.

Rumple: “I also know you don’t do the right thing for a reward. You do it because it’s right.” Looking at you prosperity gospel I grew up with.

But how did giving his heart to Killian kill him? Not to mention Wish Rumple. The only way I can try to explain it is that it was the nature of the curse of the poisoned heart and the two Rumple’s are connected by the darkness?  

Thank God Killian’s alright!  

Knightrook hug at last!  

Bless Rumple for doing that, even though he didn’t think he’d ever get back to Belle.  

So wild how Rumple died for a version of Hook.

I don’t really understand how Henry is Rumple’s undoing but maybe they’re referring to Wish Henry? That doesn’t really make sense because he wasn’t the boy who led him back to Baelfire.

Aww Wish Hook and Regina holding hands.

Regina: “Thank you for one last lesson; that darkness can always find the light.”

Regina looks like she’s about to tlk Rumple on the lips.  

She settles for his forehead. That’s sweet.

I always wonder if that’s really Belle he sees here. She’s just a lot younger than when she died. Do people de-age in the better place? Did Henry sr. and Cora? And Belle here seems so ethereal, it makes me wonder if this is just a vision of her.

This whole idea about casting another curse was an interesting one. I feel she should have asked the people of the other realms if they wanted their realms moved. I guess she can do it without altering their personalities and memories, but can a dark curse really be good? I guess they wanted to end the show how it started, with a curse and a royal ceremony. And I do kinda like the idea of the United Realms. I want it to be a real theme park. But I did like it when it was difficult to go from realm to realm. I think overall I prefer them to be separate, but I think they wanted to keep with the theme of everyone being able to find one another.

She wants everyone she loves to gift a small piece of their hearts to cast this curse? Sounds dangerous.

Regina, this is kinda a terrible idea, hun.

It’s cool seeing all the realms again though.

They finally revealed who Lily’s dad was in the last few minutes of the last episode haha.

Wow. Wish Henry embraced Regina real quick. And it looks like he’s wearing a Sherriff’s badge, so I’m guessing Emma has accepted him as her son. I mean, he is. As far as we know there’s no Wish Emma and she must have memories of raising him.

Oh, I’m glad they showed Zelena using magic. Otherwise we wouldn’t know which Zelena this is. It’s present-day Zelena not past Zelena. Good to know.

Prince Neal’s grown up a little! Cool! So, they’re stuck back in a time where he and Robin are like, 8 or 9. So they’ve been stuck back in time for around 3 years since Regina cast the curse. If Drizella and Gothel’s curse took them back in time, why couldn’t this curse take them forward into their own time? It must have created another timeline because Zelena and Robin would already have known their futures and it didn’t seem like they were in the United Realms at the beginning of 7x11. I could be wrong though. It just would have been nice if they’d met up with their family from their own time but the reason why they didn’t do that was because Emma would be in her 60s and I guess they wanted the original main cast to be recognisable for the last episode. This could have been avoided if Lucy was born earlier. In my head they go back to their own time after this ceremony.

Wow, Regina’s becoming Queen of Everything.  

Emma!

Henry with his little sister.  

And they called her Hope, the theme of the show. That is quite fitting.

Calling each other Madam Mayor and Miss Swan. The nostalgia!

The flashbacks!!

Look at them all. I love these characters.

Leaving Storybrooke? But it won’t be for long. Storybrooke’s my home.

And that’s the end guys. God, I love this show and there’ll be many rewatches to come for me. Thank you again. It’s been totally awesome.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 8/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

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

Notes:

Thank you all for your interest in this story, it was really my first time trying to write a story that was not modern. It took a lot of research and not all of it is accurate but it was a lot of fun stretching myself to try this out. Thank you all again for all the comments, flails, and encouragement. You guys are the best.

Chapter 8: Love is Stronger

Emma watched in horror as the King and Queen of Jonesboro fell to the ground, a pool of blood expanding under their motionless bodies. Killian advanced to his mother’s position, glaring up at Regina with a look of murderous anger.

She felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he stood from his spot, his sword out in front of him, a low growl expanding from his throat until he ran full force toward the woman. He was blocked immediately by her guards as his sword clashed against metal. Liam moved beside her, rushing to flank the evil Queen between himself and his brother.

Emma stood frozen to her spot at the front of the room, moving only when she saw her mother pinned between two guards. She knelt on the ground next to a fallen soldier, pulling the blade from the man’s hand. Spinning away from an approaching attack, she raised the blade, hearing the metal clang loudly in her ears as it connected with the man’s sword.

The man seemed surprised, his eyes widening as she narrowed her eyes. “Come now sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it quick for you.” He taunted her.

Emma stepped back on her foot, spinning under his blade, and driving hers through the man’s chest. “Thanks for making it quick.” She glared, kicking her foot against his body to push him off her blade as he fell, lifeless to the ground.

She continued to make her way toward her mother when Regina’s voice boomed louder than the commotion around her, causing Emma to spin around to find her in the crowd.

“How does it feel to be king?” She taunted Liam. “Unfortunately, it will be the shortest reign on record.” She growled, rushing toward him. Liam met her sword with his as they stood inches away from each other, a grimace of anger on Liam’s face. Suddenly she saw movement behind the Queen, dark hair moving through the crowd as he rushed toward the pair with his weapon raised in front of him.

Thinking he had the upper hand he left himself unprotected, something that the Queen immediately took advantage of. As if she sensed his presence, she spun around, the end of her blade slicing into his shoulder.

“Killian.” The words left her mouth in a scrambled scream. She looked toward her mother, seeing her defending her spot valiantly. Emma rushed forward, trying to race to the other side of the room. When she could see Liam in front of her, she watched in horror as strong arms pulled Liam backward, allowing the Queen to focus her full attention on his younger brother.

The path to Killian closed as men flanked her on all sides, evil smiles spread across their faces as they held their weapons in front of them. She lunged forward, fighting off two of the men, but the men behind her were getting closer, the blade narrowly missing her leg as she tried to spin away. She heard a loud clash behind her and turned to see her father’s sword enter the fray. She nodded in his direction as he took care of the men behind her, and Emma turned her attention back to the soldiers at her side.

Dispensing of one of them easily, she began swinging her sword, the feeling of anxious desperation to get to Killian’s side starting to grow in her.

When the man in front of her finally fell, she looked up to see Killian still fighting the Queen in the center of the room, behind them she could see Liam fighting off three other large soldiers. Before she could reach them, Liam burst through the wall of men, backing up against his brother as the two of them held their swords, fighting the crowd around them, while trying to keep the Queen at bay.

For a moment as Emma watched between blades, she thought perhaps they had the upper hand, but then Liam was on his back, a blade at his throat and the Queen had Killian in her grasp, his arm wrenched behind his back, a dagger digging into his side.

She spun him around, showing him off to his brother and Emma felt her heart pounding in her throat.

“Which is gonna hurt more, watching your parents die, or your baby brother?” The Queen taunted Liam, laughing as she threw her head back.

Emma kicked at the man in front of her, bringing the blade down against his neck, pushing past him before his body fell. She heard Killian wail in pain, the dagger drawing blood. Emma lifted her sword, ready to plunge it into the woman’s back. Again, as if the woman sensed the presence behind her, she spun around, holding the dagger to Killian’s throat. “The bride wants to play games.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

The Queen looked to her right as a man pushed Liam to his knees and she locked eyes with Killian. “Go…save your parents.” He grunted at the end when Regina dug the knife into his neck.

“No, I won’t leave you.” She cried out, biting her lip as she tightened the grip on the hilt of her sword. Something flashed in the Queen’s eyes before an ominous laugh escaped her lips.

“Interesting.” She mused and Emma took a step toward the woman.

“You have nowhere to go. You are surrounded, we will destroy you.” Emma threatened only causing the woman to laugh louder.

“Do you think your measly forces are a threat to me? Such a naïve child you are.”

“Emma go! Our people will follow you, even after we are gone. They need you.” Killian grunted, struggling to free himself from Regina’s grasp.

“I need you.” She said through tears as her eyes stayed locked on Killian’s, avoiding turning her gaze toward the man she was supposed to marry. She couldn’t lose Killian; she would not let this woman take the one thing she had waited her entire life to find.

Love.

She didn’t know what overtook her, but a growl from somewhere deep in her belly left her throat as she rushed toward the woman, her sword held high in front of her. Killian pressed an elbow into the woman’s side, bending forward to avoid the blow of Emma’s sword, Regina twitched to the side causing her aim to be off center as the blade plunged into the woman’s side.

Before she could react, she was shoved backward against the ground, the woman yelling orders around her as men rushed toward the door surrounding their Queen in a circle of protection.

She winced in pain as she sat up on her elbows, knowing that tomorrow she would have bruises in places she didn’t dare think of, if she survived today, she thought grimly. Killian was at her side, his fingers in her hair.

“Are you alright?”

She looked up into his blue eyes, a smile returning to her face for a moment. “I think so, are you?”

He reached down, pressing his hand to his side. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, thanks to you.” She was transfixed by his gaze, the way he stared at her as if he were afraid she would disappear in his arms, leaning into the soft feel of his hand against her cheek.

“That’s the second time I’ve saved your life.” She said with a soft smile.

“You’re very good with a sword.” He smirked.

As if suddenly they were both aware of their surroundings, he helped her to stand and they both looked around the room at the men and women scattered about the ground. Emma’s eyes searched desperately for her parents only to have them appear at her side, fussing over each scratch and bruise displaying on her skin.

“I’m fine.” She said, brushing them away as she watched the two brothers standing mournfully over the bodies of their parents. She knew they would both be devastated, though Liam was fully aware of the possibility of one day taking the place of his father, she knew this was not the way he had anticipated it happening.

She leaned into her father’s side as he cradled her head in his hands before Liam and Killian approached. “The guards advised that Regina retreated by way of the East Road, though most of her men have scattered.”

“We need to attack while she is vulnerable, Your Highness.” Her father said with a bow of his head toward Liam.

“I am in agreement, she is injured thanks to your daughter, she will not expect an advance after the destruction she left in her wake.”

“Then we shall continue the ceremony at once.” Her father stated, gesturing to some of the men to collect the priest, Emma’s heart sinking in her chest.

~*~

Killian pressed a palm to his mother’s face, closing her eyes and bending to press a kiss to her forehead before draping the cloth over her body. “She loved you more than me, you know.” Killian glanced toward his brother’s voice, a small smile splaying on his face.

“You know that isn’t true.”

“You were the baby, I reconciled with it long ago.” He chuckled.

“Regina must pay for this.” He said solemnly.

“She will. Today we stand together, you and I. Nothing will stop us from bringing Regina’s reign to an end.”

He clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I will follow you to the end of the earth, my King.”

“You fought valiantly today.”

“We still lost.” He said sadly.

“They would not want us to lose hope.” Liam said softly. “As mother always said, when we are at our darkest, love will bring us to the light.”

Killian turned his eyes toward Emma’s at the other end of the room, her mother fussing over her hair as she looked nervously in his direction.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Killian jerked his gaze back to his brother. “What?”

“Before the ceremony, Emma told me that she was in love with another.”

Killian gulped, the guilt tearing at him. “Brother, I swear, I never meant…”

“Do you love her?”

His eyes met hers once again. “With everything that I am.”

~*~

“Mom, please. Stop.”

“It’s just a spot of blood.” Her mother complained, brushing her cheek with the corner of her sleeve. “Emma, I’m so sorry, this is not how your wedding should have gone.”

“I’m not upset about the wedding! His parents are dead?”

“I know.” She said sadly, pausing as she leaned against the wall beside them. “Alice and I were friends when we were younger. I would never have wished this on her. She was a wonderful woman. But Liam has been preparing for this his entire life.”

Emma shook her head, staring at Killian across the room, their eyes meeting for a moment as he spoke with his brother. “Liam will be a good King.”

“And you will be a wonderful Queen, Emma, you were born for this.” Before Emma could respond she was approached by her father.

“We must start the ceremony now.” He announced as Liam and Killian appeared behind him. He turned toward the men. “It’s time, you and Emma must marry now.”

Emma met Liam’s eyes and he smiled at her softly. “I was wrong earlier.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I cannot perform my duty when my heart belongs to another.”

Her father’s face narrowed in anger. “Are you rejecting my daughter?”

Liam smiled at Emma. “I am simply allowing her to meet her own destiny.”

“King Liam, I know this has been a difficult day, but we must unite our kingdoms if you wish to avenge your parent’s death.” Her father tried to reason.

Liam stepped closer to Emma and took her hand. “You and I do not need to marry to unite our Kingdom, Emma, but there can still be a wedding this day, if that is what your heart truly desires.”

“What are you talking about?” Her father interjected, staring between the two of them.

“Liam…I can explain.” She started before he cut her off.

“There is no need to explain. The heart wants what the heart wants.” He looked over her shoulder toward the woman standing behind her, Elsa looked bewildered as he stepped toward her and took her hand.

“This is an outrage.” Her father said angrily. “You reject my daughter for another woman at her own wedding.”

“Father.” Emma said loudly. “Stop.” She turned toward Killian. “I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.”

“Love, you did what you thought you needed to do. I could not judge you for doing your duty, no matter how much it pained me.” Killian stepped toward her.

“I should have chosen you; for it is all that my heart desires.” She heard her mother gasp behind her.

“Then choose me now.” He reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. “I cannot make you Queen of Jonesboro, but I promise that I will always be by your side, and I will love you like no other.”

“Emma, what is the meaning of this?” Her father stepped between them.

“I love Killian, daddy. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I choose him, and together we can still stop Regina, we can still protect our people.”

“Killian will never be King.” Her father stated somberly.

“You taught me about responsibility, about duty and honor, but I don’t need to be the Queen of Jonesboro to unite our people.” She reached over and took Killian’s hand, looking over her shoulder at Liam. “We simply need to lead the way and they will follow.”

Her mother stood next to her father, reaching out to touch his arm. “Years ago, it was love that tore these kingdoms apart, perhaps now it is time to let love bring them together.”

“But she needs to be Queen…”

“And she will be.” Her mother said suddenly, reaching out to touch her daughter’s cheek. “Emma is the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

“Thank God.” Henry exclaimed behind them.

“Mary Margaret, women are not in the line of succession.” Her father argued. “It is the law of the land.”

“A law that the King of Misthaven has the ability to ignore or perhaps rewrite.” She said with a smile in Emma’s direction.

“Regardless of my father’s stubbornness, and though he would not admit it publicly, he knew that his Margie had chosen the better man that day.” Liam said stepping forward. “And now we face a mighty adversary, a woman who does not care about the law of men. Perhaps on this day, it is not a man who will defeat her.”

“Emma, is this what you want?” He father asked.

“All I have ever wanted was for you to see me for what I could be. I have watched you lead my entire life. I have learned everything I know because of you. I am more than a decorative piece of furniture.”

“Aye, she is a fierce fighter, skilled with a blade, and too stubborn to back down.” Killian said proudly as he stood at her side.

“She gets that part from me.” Her father said with a laugh.

“People of Jonesboro.” His brother’s voice boomed behind him. “Today has been a sad occasion. We have lost our beloved King and Queen, but we will not let this deed go unpunished. I promise to serve you proudly as King of Jonesboro and we will avenge my parents by removing the evil that set foot in our house here this day.” He turned toward Killian, glancing between him and Emma. “This kingdom has long since held ill will to our neighbors in the North, but starting today, there will be no malice toward the people of Misthaven. We must let love guide our hearts.”

He paused, taking Emma’s hand. “I have learned much from Princess Emma, she has taught me that our duty as royals means that we must protect those who trust us to lead them. But she also taught me that without love, duty means nothing.”

He turned toward the blonde woman standing behind him. “Love is stronger than any blade and I will not allow love to be defeated on this day.” He turned his attention back to the people standing in their seats, confusion, and anxiety on their faces. “Today Jonesboro and Misthaven will join as one, a force of love so strong that it will defeat anything that stands against it.” He guided Emma’s hand toward him until he had placed it into Killian’s palm.

“My brother, Prince Killian will wed Princess Emma of Misthaven, a pair who have proven their worth on this day, a pair who will guide and lead our kingdoms to victory.”

There was a murmur among the crowd as many people whispered to their nearest neighbor.

“Hear me Misthaven.” King David’s voice boomed. “I will follow King Liam into the depths of the black forest until we reach the Queen’s castle and remove her from her reign of terror. I will do so with my daughter by my side, the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

Killian heard the crowds gasp before David pushed on.

“People of Jonesboro, we must never forget the sacrifices that were made today, a loss that I am most certain will be felt for years to come. As many of you know, King Brennan and I were not friends, but perhaps we had more in common than we realized. The devotion of our Kingdom, the joy of watching our children become braver than ourselves, and the support of the one who stands firm beside us.” He reached over and took the hand of his wife, pulling her to his side. “We should have let go of childish pride, but we could not see past our own anger. An anger that divided us and surely would destroy our lands. It is our children that have shown me the error of our ways, sadly it is too late for me to make it right with King Brennan, but together, with our children united, we can save the Enchanted Forest from a most certain destruction.”

Liam clasped him on the shoulder. “Let love rule this day.”

Killian glanced at Emma; her eyes wide as she took in the scene in front of her. “Love, what do you say?”

She turned to him, her eyes blinking slowly. “I…”

“Marry me, Emma. Marry me for now and for all eternity.”

She shook her head repeatedly as her father laughed. “She was never this quiet at home, you have done something I have tried to do for years, you have rendered her speechless.”

“Father.” Emma said in a warning tone but with a playful smile on her face. He turned toward the priest.

“Please, continue.” He gestured to the couple and stepped away from the altar to take his seat.

The priest took in the situation in front of him, hesitant to proceed. “They have my blessing.” Liam said softly, stepping back from the couple and taking Elsa’s hand once more as he guided her happily to a seat at the front of the room.

The man cleared his throat. “I suppose I shall ask again, Princess, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will and choice?”

Emma turned to him and smiled widely. “Yes Father, with all my heart.”

“Prince Killian…” He continued after a pause, “and Princess Emma have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Heaven to bless this union.” The man stared at the door nervously. “Therefore, if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time.” He winced, as if waiting for the doors to barrel open once more. When he was met with silence, he exhaled.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Killian felt his heart flutter at the words, barely believing the fact that she was standing in front of him, giving herself to him and not his brother. He heard her clear her throat across from him, her eyes nervously scanning his. “Aye, I will.” He said quickly, offering her a smile to reassure her that he was alright.

“Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Emma squinted her eyes closed for a moment and then opened them as she leaned toward him. “About the obey part…” She whispered.

“Considering you are the one who will one day become Queen, it is I who will follow your lead.” He winked.

She laughed light heartedly. “Knowing you, neither one of us will be very good at this whole obeying notion.”

The Priest scowled. “May we continue?” He offered quietly.

Emma stepped back, “I believe we have an accord.” She grinned. “I mean, yes, I will.” She corrected as the Priest stared at her with a frown on his face.

Killian watched her with admiration and pride as they exchanged rings, his hand shaking with nervous energy, his heart barely contained in his chest the moment he felt the cold slide of metal on his own finger.

“Forasmuch as Killian and Emma have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce therefore that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

He pulled her to him before the man spoke again, brushing his lips against his own as he felt her mouth turn upward in a grin. “My wife.” He whispered softly as she pulled away from him, grinning and turning toward the cheering crowd.

They were approached by his brother and Emma’s parents, congratulatory cheers surrounding them before they were quickly ushered from the room. There was much to be done before they had a moment to digest the last few moments of the day. Planning their armies next moves was paramount if they were to get the upper hand in the fight against Regina which meant they would have mere moments alone before they would head into battle.

The moment the doors closed and the air around them was finally still, he pulled her against him, holding her close against his chest. “I will remember this day as long as I shall live.”

“Then remember to live longer than today.” She said softly against his chest. “For I wish to think upon this day when we are old and gray.”

He pulled away from her, the worry in her eyes shining through. “Emma, I would have followed my brother to the depths of hell to protect my kingdom. And today, I will follow him, but mostly I am honored to fight side by side with you in battle because I believe in you and your will to survive. I saw you today as you stood in front of Regina, unafraid and full of pride. Today you are not only my wife, my love, but my Queen. Regina doesn’t stand a chance against the likes of Jonesboro and Misthaven united. Today she will fall.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips assaulting his in a bruising kiss. “Keep talking like that and you will find yourself properly rewarded in your bedchamber.”

“Our bedchamber.” He corrected her. “And I very much look forward to my reward.”

She closed her eyes and pressed into him once more. “I love you, Killian.”

“I love you too.” He returned, opening his eyes, and staring into hers with every emotion he could muster. “Stay close to me, love.”

“I shall not keep my eyes off you for one moment.” She teased.

“I would despair if you did.” With one final kiss, they joined the others to make their united stand against Evil Queen Regina.

~*~

Three months later…

“No this is my favorite spot.” Killian’s voice wafted from below her, his lips lightly pressed against the skin behind her knee. She mewed appreciatively. “Ah yes, and that is why it is my favorite, it elicits such a glorious sound.” He traced his hand higher up her thigh, “Though I do enjoy the sounds this area brings as well.” A groan left her throat, much lower than the previous.

“Killian, if you keep this up, we will be late for breakfast.” His lips pressed against her inner thigh.

“Since when are we ever on time for breakfast?”

She giggled, watching his dark hair disappear between her legs, her eyes closing lazily as she enjoyed his ministrations. “Mmm, you make a valiant point, my love.” She could feel the short hairs at his chin brush against her most sensitive area, causing her head to fall back against the bed as she reveled in the feelings washing over her.

“I do believe if you continue to make that sound, we will be late for dinner as well.” He teased as his tongue slid across her center causing her to squeal in delight.

“Then it would be wise for you to quickly finish what you started, before your brother arrives on the morrow.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

“Your father takes great delight in our conversations at the table.” His fingers slipped inside of her. “I would hate to disappoint him with my absence, and it has been a while since I have seen my brother.” His tongue pressed into her folds, sliding languidly against her hot center. “But it would be a shame to rush such a delicate art.”

“Art, huh?”

“Aye.” He said with a smirk, “Pleasing you is a work of art that I take great pride in.” His finger curled inside of her, his tongue hanging loosely from his mouth as he watched her, their eyes locked in a sensuous stare.

“You are quite gifted at…” She moaned as his fingers increased their speed. “Oh God.” She cried out the moment the feeling overtook her, her hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth against her center, riding out the wave of ecstasy before she settled against the bed once more.

“I will never tire of that song.” He chuckled, pulling himself against her body as he brought his mouth against hers. “A song made entirely for my ears, or at least that is what I assume since you enjoy tugging at them while you sing it.” He joked, his tongue sliding against her lips as she allowed him entry.

“I find it is the only way to silence you.” She giggled.

“Minx.” His body melded into hers as he slid inside of her, a low groan leaving his throat the moment he was fully seated inside of her. It was in these moments, the golden sun streaming in through their window, the light caressing his naked skin as he hovered above her, his blue eyes focused only on her, the true intent and emotion of their connection the only thing she could see or hear as his body became one with hers, in these moments she knew that when she had been faced with the decision between love or duty, there was always only one answer.

She had fought beside Killian, and Liam, her father standing by her side. On that day, even her mother had found her bow and set aim on Queen Regina that day. Jonesboro and Misthaven fought side by side, driving out the Queen and ending her evil reign of terror.

They had won because they fought together. Because they were bound by their duty to their people and to each other. They were bound by a love that had risen and bonded them in a way that could not be destroyed. That day they fought for each other, for their home, and for love.

And when Emma returned to Misthaven, as the future Queen of her lands with Killian at her side, she had done her duty and in return been rewarded with love.

[elizabeethan]

Spaces Between Us Chapter 13: You & I

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

Complete

As my grandma used to say,"theyah." (she meant "there" and she would brush her hands together, but she had a very heavy a Maine accent) 

Thank you to everyone who read this, and to everyone who commented, left kudos, liked it, reblogged it, sent flails.... you're the best!!

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly​, and to @donteattheappleshook​ and @xhookswenchx​ for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

His warm fingers tickle her awake, dancing delicately over the skin of her waist and making her giggle before she hisses at the bright sunlight stinging her eyes. “It’s too early for all that.” 

 “No it isn’t,” he argues, kissing a hot trail down her neck until his lips reach her breast. She swears she was wearing a shirt when she went to bed… “We’ve got to get up soon anyway.” 

 “Then why are you initiating what you're initiating?” 

 “I can be quick.” 

 She snorts, reaching her fingers into his thick hair and letting out an appreciative sound as he flicks his tongue over her nipple. “I’m sure you can.” 

 “Let me do my work in peace, please,” he chastises playfully as he drags his mouth down her stomach, tucking his fingers into the hem of her underwear and tugging them down her thighs. 

 “If you insist,” she sighs, letting her head fall back against the pillow and grounding herself as she scratches her fingers against his scalp. 

He certainly does take his work seriously, succeeding in his promise to be quick and getting her ready for him in just a matter of minutes. She pulls on his hair a bit harder and he lifts his head, looking up at her with shiny lips and a glint in his eyes before he wipes his chin and crawls up her body slowly, peppering kisses along the way. “Already?” he asks when he reaches her ear, and she giggles. 

 “You promised to be quick, I thought you’d be pleased to know that you delivered.” 

 “Oh, I’m very pleased. If there’s one thing parenthood has taught me, it's how to get my lady love off in a jiffy.” 

 “Shut up,” she laughs, though the sound is cut off quickly when he plunges himself into her, nearly to the hilt before he pulls back out and slides in again, slowly this time. She groans in appreciation for the way he stretches her, hitting everywhere just right as he sets a steady pace. 

 “I love you,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, tracing his tongue over the sensitive skin just below. “So much.”

 “I love you, too,” she whispers back breathlessly, then with a moan, “don’t stop.” 

 “You like it like this?” he asks, biting her skin and pushing into her at just the right angle. 

 She whimpers and nods, her nails clawing at his back. She’s so close already, his mouth bringing her halfway there before they’d even started, and when he reaches his fingers between them where she needs him the most, she cries out again. 

 “There,” she begs, her legs shaking as she holds him in place. “Oh, fuck, right there.” 

 When he whispers, “come for me,” with his tone commanding and gentle, there's little she can do but obey him. 

 He’s heavy on top of her, her chest heaving beneath him, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She loves being here with him more than just about anything. The way he kisses her cheek over and over while they catch their breath makes her heart flutter more. 

 “You don’t actually have to go, right?” she asks jokingly as she runs her fingers up and down his back. “You’re actually just going to work? Won’t Will be mad if you miss a day, Mr. Mechanic?”

 With a laugh and another kiss to her cheek at the charming nickname she gave him when his friend hired him to work in his garage, he answers, “I bloody well better go. I promised Ruby I’d be there and I certainly don't want to be on her bad side.” She giggles, though he continues, “and I want to watch that bastard get exactly what he deserves.” 

 She nods, letting out a long, steady breath. Walsh’s trial is today, and while Killian isn’t allowed to testify because of his relationship with the victim-- her-- Ruby has a lot to say about that evening. At first, there was talk of Killian being unfit to serve and having made irresponsible choices because of his emotional connection with Emma. But after Ruby’s accounts of that night and the body camera footage, it was clear that he acted as appropriately as he ever has. Walsh shot first, and the sheriff responded using non-lethal force. And besides, Killian left the force on his own accord, anyway. 

 At first, she was almost angry that he’d lived. Part of her wanted the surgeons to let him die; another part of her wanted Killian to have taken a better shot. But he was shot himself, so the fact that he got him in the shoulder was pretty damn good. Plus, Walsh will never be able to fully use his arm again. 

 And… he’s probably going to jail for a long time. Which would be cool, considering the amount of times he’s been beaten up already.

 “There’s too much going on in there,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “Tell me what you’re thinking?” 

 With a shrug, she says, “just thinking about what happened. It’s been a long eight months.” 

 He hums. “Aye, it has. Hasn’t been so bad, though.” 

 “No,” she agrees softly. “But I’ll be glad when this whole trial thing is over. Maybe we can finally leave this place.” 

 “Are you implying that you aren’t a fan of my apartment?” he asks through feigned offence. “I find it to be quite quaint.” 

 “Oh, it’s quaint,” she giggles. “I just feel bad making Henry sleep in a closet.” 

 “It’s not a closet! I pay extra for two bedrooms!”

 With a soft smile, she cups his cheek in her palm and says, “I’m sorry, my love, but that is a walk-in closet.” 

 He rolls his eyes, then rolls off of her and offers her his hand to hoist her off the bed. “Soon we can get him a nice big bedroom, promise. Once the trial’s over, there’s nothing holding us here.” 

 It’s true. While they haven’t fully talked about where they’ll end up when all is said and done, Walsh signed the divorce papers from his cell a few weeks ago. And with the pre-nup null and void, Emma took her half of his fortune and donated it to an organization that supports victims of domestic violence and their children. 

 “Henry’s appointment is at ten, right?” 

 “Yeah,” she nods. Starting him up with Archie has been a blessing. Emma had a lot of fears that he would handle the transitions with difficulty, but with Dr. Hopper’s help, he’s been well adjusted, and she couldn’t be prouder. 

 They struggled with how to tell him about his father, but she never wants to lie to him. They moved out of their old house with haste, grabbing everything they could as quickly as possible so that Emma wouldn’t have to be there for a second longer than she had to. And while Henry was confused, he didn’t seem overly upset. He enjoyed living with the sheriff for a few days, even creating a comfortable nook for Abby, before they sat him down and told him everything. 

 When Emma told her son that the man who’s been in his life all along isn’t actually his father, she thought he would be upset. In reality, though, he simply shrugged and asked if Killian’s house had macaroni and cheese. 

 When Emma told her son who his real father is, a few days after they moved in with him for both safety and stability, he cheered and gave Killian the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give anyone. 

 She still can’t think about that day without crying. 

 “So Sherrie is actually my dad?” 

 Emma nods. “Yes, baby. I’m sorry that this is so confusing.” 

 He ignores her sentiment and asks, “and I can call him daddy?” 

 “You can call him anything you want.” 

 Turning towards Killian, he asks again, “can I call you daddy?” 

 The look on his face is so heartbreaking that Emma’s tears flow freely. Killian looks up at his son, meeting his eyes with glassy ones, and nods. “I’d love that.” 

 “Have you got one as well?” he asks, shaking her from her memories as she wipes away a rogue tear.

 “Wednesday. You’re okay to watch Henry in the morning, right?” 

 “It’s not exactly babysitting, Swan,” he reminds her gently, and she grins at the name he uses and the fact that it’s finally her name again. 

 “I know, but…” 

 “Go and see Ingrid on Wednesday, love. I’m glad you’re still finding it beneficial to talk with her.” 

 Honestly, finding a therapist who happens to have experience working with victims of domestic violence in this small town was a surprise to Emma, but she’s found her work with Ingrid to be invaluable. While she’s known all along that what happened wasn’t her fault, and that she shouldn’t feel guilty about what she and her son went through for all those years, it’s been helpful to hear that from a professional as well. Ingrid reminded her that, while the physical abuse happened only near the end of their relationship, Emma was being emotionally abused the entire time she knew Walsh. She was trapped from the moment she met him, little by little being gaslighted until she believed that she would have nothing if she left him. As hard as it was for her to see how toxic he was at first, it was even harder to imagine leaving when she thought he had so much power over her.

 The guilt that came with finding out she put herself and her child through that for nothing was unmatched. Her feelings and thoughts about herself as a mother, about how she failed to protect her son, are something she’s been battling for months and will likely never be able to fully let go of. Finding out that Killian is Henry’s father gave her the freedom to leave, but it also gave her the most traumatic experience of her life and brought endless feelings of self-hatred, and that’s something she’s been working on coming to terms with, slowly but surely. 

 “Alright,” she agrees, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as she walks past him towards the bathroom. 

 “I’ll go give him his nebulizer while you get ready.” 

 Stopping short in her path to the shower, she turns to him and smiles. “I love you.” 

 Returning her smile with his own, he says, “I love you, too, Swan.” 

 In eight months, he’s become more of a father than Walsh was Henry’s entire life. 

 ~~~~

 As he watches Walsh being escorted into the courtroom, donning his orange jumpsuit and shackles, Killian is reminded of the last time he saw the man who almost took everything from him. It was months ago, once he was finally transferred to the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department’s jail cell. He was still clearly favoring his left arm, his right shoulder completely out of commission as a result of Killian’s rather good shot, and he felt a sick sense of accomplishment seeing the monster struggling to get comfortable on the firm cot with the sling wrapped around him. 

 “Need something?” he’d asked, although he wasn’t too chuffed to give the bastard anything that would take away his obvious malaise. 

 He scoffed and responded, “yeah, my pain meds would be nice. Are you always in the business of torture?”

 “Aye,” Killian responded without thinking, then he stood up and walked to Walsh’s cell, keys in hand. “I suppose I am. But I really only focus on torturing the absolute most wretched inmates. Like you.” 

 Walsh shook his head and laughed, but Killian didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes as he inserted the key and swung the cell door open, shutting it behind him. “Talk about protect and serve.” 

 Killian hummed in response and nodded as well as he moved to stand over Walsh’s cot, staring down into his eyes with anger, the strength of which he won’t ever feel again. “The fact is, mate, I couldn’t care less about my duties as the sheriff. Not when the safety and happiness of my son and the woman I love are on the line.” Walsh laughed once more and rolled his eyes, so Killian moved quickly to thrust his open hand down upon his neck, pressing just hard enough to make the animal’s eye pop from his head. “You threatened them. You tried to kill her. You neglected the child you thought was yours for his entire life. You are garbage; a waste of oxygen. Trust me when I tell you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never live to see the light of day. You will never take a breath outside of a barbed wire fence. You will never eat anything but the slop they feed you. You will never experience pleasure for as long as you live. And I promise you, you will live for decades in an iron cage, right where you belong.” 

 He was quiet for a moment as his cheeks started to turn red and his eyes grew wider, before he finally gruffed, “I can’t breathe.” 

 “Perfect,” Killian responded. “Then you know exactly how she felt. Count yourself lucky that I’m not going to try and shoot you again.” 

 He released his forceful grip, shoving Walsh down onto the cot as he took in a forceful breath, before he turned and locked the cell, walking back to his desk and collecting his things. When his shift ended, Killian Jones walked out of the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department precinct for the final time. 

 ~~~~

 Henry’s birthday is definitely cause for celebration. He’s turning six. It’s the first time Killian will be able to celebrate his son’s birthday. He’s finally with his Emma, with nothing stopping them from being happy together. There’s a lot for his family to be happy about. 

 “Daddy!” Henry calls as he sprints at full speed towards his father. “Daddy, can I have cake yet?” 

 “No, not yet. You haven’t even touched your lunch. And don’t let your mother see you running wild like that.”

 His more intensive therapies have been working as well as they can, but they know they have to be careful to avoid another serious attack-- one that might not end as well as the last had. Killian only just became a part of his son’s life. He doesn’t intend to lose him. 

 “But it’s my birthday,” he complains, rolling his eyes and giving him a look that could rival his mother’s. 

 “Your birthday isn’t until Monday.”

 “Well, it’s my tarty.” 

 “Your party.” 

 “I think I wanna ask mommy.” 

 Killian chuckles. “If mommy doesn’t tell you to wait until after lunch, I’ll give you five dollars.” 

 His eyes light up and widen immediately, cloudy gray perfectly complimenting the black pupils as he turns from him and runs straight for the door. He watches from the deck as Henry begs and pleads with his mother, giving her his best bambi eyes, before he sees her nod, the lad jumping for joy and shrinking excitedly. He runs towards the sliding door and pounds his fists against it, shouting through the glass, “you owe me five dollars!”

 With a sigh, Killian brushes past his son, ruffling his hair just a bit, before he wraps both arms around Emma’s waist, pulling her in for a hug from behind. “You really got me there, Swan.” 

 “Did I?” she asks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 She leans back into his chest, turning her head so that she can press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No? Are you telling me our son didn’t inform you of my poorly-made offer?” 

 With a giggle, she answers, “of course he did. That’s what you get for trying to negotiate with our six year old.” 

 He squeezes her a bit tighter, reveling in their loneliness in the kitchen. “He’s still five,” he reminds her, content to never let him grow up.

 “Yes,” she hums. “And what a big difference the two days will make.” 

 He pushes his lips against her cheek and says, “I’m afraid he’s getting too old. We’ll have to return him soon.” 

 “And what,” she laughs, “trade him in for a newer model?” 

 “Aye, that’s the price of fatherhood most men aren’t willing to pay. But I’m not like those other men.” 

 She doesn’t need to be facing him for him to know that she rolls her eyes. “You are absolutely ridiculous.” 

 “--ly in love with you,” he corrects. She does spin around now, turning to face him and burying her face in his neck as her arms hold him in her iron grip. “What is it?” he whispers into her hair more seriously. 

 “Nothing,” she responds softly. “I’m just… happy. It still surprises me sometimes. That we’re here and celebrating our son’s birthday together; that nothing’s stopping us.” 

 “Aye, love, me too,” he agrees, running his hands up and down along the contours of her spine. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” 

 “You won’t ever have to,” she reminds him with a smile as she pulls away just enough to look at him. “We won.” 

 He grins down at her, running his thumb along her cheek as he holds her jaw with his palm. With her ex-husband being found guilty on all charges, his life sentence without the possibility for parole means they’ll never be apart again. “Yes, my love,” he says, leaning down to kiss her chastely. “Let’s simply avoid the scorned husbands and attempts on both of our lives in the future, aye?”

 She agrees with a nod. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Fucking idiot got exactly what he deserved, though.” 

 He laughs and says, “as eloquently put as always. I couldn’t agree more.” 

 As it turns out, the prosecution lawyer was very experienced and was able to use Walsh’s statements of intent to kill his wife, as well as the loaded gun pointed directly at her and at the sheriff, to prove two counts of attempted second degree murder, plus assault with a deadly weapon, plus domestic violence, plus election fraud, plus embezzelment. Suffice it to say, Walsh won’t be seeing much daylight for quite some time. 

 Of course, the honorable man in Killian almost thought that sending his mistress’s husband to jail for life as a means to be with her was taking the cheap way out, but he got over those feelings very quickly. It’s not about Killian being with Emma, after all. Not really. 

 As their son laughs raucously on the swing set with his cousin, he sees exactly what it’s about. 

 “I suppose we should do the cake,” Emma finally sighs, lifting her head 

 “I suppose,” he concedes, squeezing her tighter in his hold and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

 ~~~~

 The afternoon rolls into evening, everyone finding a lawn chair or chaise lounge to relax in as David starts a fire and Mary Margaret prepares for an outdoor movie. Honestly, Killian’s son is spoiled with the grandeur of his sixth birthday party, with the giant white screen and the projector displaying The Good Dinosaur for all the children to enjoy. 

 Emma sighs happily as she leans back against Killian’s chest, taking his wrists in her hands and pulling his arms around her middle. She feels warm against him as the fire heats her skin and her sweatshirt, and he can’t get enough of the feeling of the weight of her body pressed to his own. 

 “I love you,” she finally whispers into the dark as the movie starts, the sounds enough to drown out her voice so that only Killian can hear.

 “I love you, too,” he agrees softly, sentimentally, squeezing her just a bit tighter. “More than just about anything.” 

 “Just about?” 

 He hums out a laugh and nods. “I’m afraid I love our son just a tiny bit more than you. That’s normal, right?” 

 “Yes,” she agrees softly, turning to face him and pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’m afraid I love our kids more than you, too.” 

 He smiles and laughs lightly against her, returning her soft kiss with one of his own as he sighs and looks on at their son happily enjoying his special day. “Wait,” he says as it finally dawns on him; the specific wording she chose and the coy smile she dons through a giggle. “Kids?” 

 She hums in agreement, nodding against his chest and pulling his arms tighter around herself until his palm is pressed to her stomach. “I found out this morning.” 

 “Emma,” he breathes, unable to comprehend her meaning. 

 “I was thinking if it’s a boy, we could name him after your brother. At least his middle name. Thoughts?” 

 “Emma,” he tries again, separating his arms and pulling away only far enough to help her turn towards him. “Are you…” 

 “Shh,” she insists, pressing her finger to his lips and grinning at him and she turns to face him head on. Then she whispers, “it’s a secret. I’m pregnant.” 

 He can’t breathe, a shocked sound coming out of his mouth as he leans towards her and captures her lips in his. She grins against him, holding onto the neck of his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly closer to herself. “You’re sure?” 

 “I’ll call the doctor on Monday to make an appointment, but I took three tests. All positive.” 

 “Fuck,” he breathes almost silently, trying hard not to alert those around them of their shift in mood but finding it near impossible. “Fuck, I love you. I thought…” 

 She shakes her head, cradling the back of his neck in her hands as she answers his silent question. “I probably never would’ve been ready,” she explains. They’ve talked about it in passing, and she’s insisted that her last pregnancy was difficult and that she’s still recovering from the trauma she’s endured and is therefore unable to consider the possibility of having another child. “If I had a say, I probably would’ve kept putting it off,” she whispers. “But… surprise.” She shrugs and grins at him.

 He kisses her, because he can think of no other way to express his feelings towards her than to show her what she means to him. There are no words to tell her exactly what she’s given him, not just now, but every second he’s known her. No words, except, “marry me.” 

 She giggles breathlessly, the air escaping her lips hitting the tip of his nose as she gasps, “what?” 

 With a grin, he responds more seriously, “marry me. Please.” He clears his throat and tries again. “Emma Swan-- love of my life, mother of my children-- will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” 

 “You’re serious?” she breathes softly, careful not to alert the other parents present of the sudden shift between them. “You know I just got divorced, like, two months ago.” 

 “Aye, but I should've asked you to marry me seven years ago. The divorce is merely semantics.” 

 She laughs breathlessly again, disbelievingly, and nods her head before pulling him close to her. “Yes,” she whispers against him before pressing a passionate, if not also chaste, kiss to his lips. He can tell that she wants to deepen it, perhaps she wants to take him inside and show him how excited she is, but they're at their son’s birthday party and they have to keep things G-Rated. PG; nothing higher. “Yes,” she says again. Then once more, “yes, I’ll marry you.” 

 Andrew Liam Jones was born seven months later. He was monitored closely throughout Emma’s pregnancy to ensure proper development of his lungs, and when he was born, he screamed like a banshee to alert his parents of his healthy arrival. He weighed seven pounds, three ounces, and was twenty-one inches long. His big brother, newly renamed Henry David Jones following an amendment to his birth certificate, refused to leave the baby’s side until he fell asleep, needing to be carried out of the maternity suite by his uncle while his parents took in the bliss and terror of having a new life to care for. 

 Emma and Killian were married two months after the arrival of their second child, the small ceremony taking place on the secluded, rocky beach in Storybrooke, Maine. At first, Killian wanted to remove his family from the hellish town that nearly stole his life away from him, but she disagreed. This was where they were reunited. This was where they found each other again. This was where she found herself again. It’s where her children were born and raised. So, when she finds a beautiful, blue victorian style home on the outskirts of town and cries at how perfect it is for their family, at how close she would be to her sister, they place an offer. And they win. 

 They won when they found each other again and they know that they will never lose at anything ever again so long as they have each other. 

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​ @xsajx​ @itsfridaysomewhere​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @rapunzelsghosts​ @spaceconveyor

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature 

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

��Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

-/-

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[wellhellotragic]

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal  3/4

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself.  It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: Guy, I suck so hard core. I don't even know how I let so much time lapse between chapter 2 and now, and then to really top off my suck-o-meter, I realized that there's going to have to be a chapter 4 because I can't fix what I've done so easily. Not realistically at least. I promise, and happy ending is coming though, and it won't take me another 8 months to get it up. I hope to have it up and finished by the weekend.

The AO3 version

It’s been a hell of a night. She’s not sure where exactly it falls on her list of worst days ever, but it’s in her top five. It has to be. It’s not the worst, that honor is saved for the night she almost lost Killian, but it’s still up there. She’s spent hours now going through all of the details over and over again with Graham and Lance, her story never changing. Getting poked and prodded by EMTs, despite telling everyone that she’s fine.

She’s not, but they can’t stitch up her insides.

David, her partner, on the other hand has a bullet hole in his leg. Better than his head though.

She’s not even sure if she can fully reconcile everything that happened. She and David were investigating the death of a low profile importer, a nobody, interviewing some dock workers that had found the body. Some gruff looking men who easily blended in with the usual fishmongers and cargo sorters.

But they weren’t. She realized it just a second too late, right before a bag was pulled over her head. She fought like hell, but she was at a disadvantage. From what she heard, David had put up a fight as well, but in the end, it was useless, and she lost consciousness with a sharp blow to the head.

She woke up strapped down to a chair with David the same a few feet beside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Jefferson had always given her a bad feeling, but she never actually thought he’d go dirty. She certainly never expected to be facing the wrong side of his department issued sidearm.

Even now, everything is still a blur. Graham assured her it’s the shock, that it’ll fade once the adrenaline wears off; that everything will clear up after a good night's rest. She’s not sure about that though. It’s four in the morning now and the adrenaline seems to be hanging on for dear life still and she knows she's not going to rest any time soon. Humbert offered to drive her home but she declined, choosing to wait for August to finish wrapping up his report.

She’s not sure what time it is when they finally arrive at her apartment. The battery in her cell phone died ages ago. Neither of them even make a move for the fridge, choosing to bypass the beer she keeps stocked for the hard nights. Instead, the two of them move in silence to her room. She plugs in her cell before crawling in bed next to him, like when they were kids in Ingrid’s foster house. She’s not sure who’s comforting who at this point, but she knows that she just needs to be with family.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t, but she knows she needs to or it’ll eat her alive. She’s tried that once already and it ended up with her almost having a complete nervous breakdown and a three week leave of absence with daily Archie sessions.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

It’s true. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, there’s no one easy to pinpoint place to begin. So August goes first. He fills in the blanks that he can, so that she might be able to piece together the rest. He tells her about Killian sending him undercover, about Jefferson and missing drugs and money. How Jefferson was helping to conceal evidence that would link Walsh and the Nikko empire to a wide distribution of pixie dust.

Some of it is just speculation, that Jefferson must have figured out they were closing in on him and that’s why he went for Emma, and David was probably just collateral damage. How he most likely picked Emma because he knew how much she meant to him , and while he didn’t say Killian’s name specifically, the implication hung over her like a heavy cloud.

“Before you got there, he told Killian to choose. Between me and David I mean. To pick which one of us would live and which one would die. And then he just started laughing and screaming in this crazed voice that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

It was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. The mania that accompanied it. She already knew that it was going to haunt her for months to come, if not longer.

It’s a real Gracie’s choice. Gracie’s choice Killian. GRACIE’s CHOICE!!!

She felt August shift next to her.

“Gracie was his daughter. She died while he was undercover with a Southie Gang. Killian was undercover with Cruella at the time. It was a freak accident, a gas leak and the house went up in flames, but he was convinced that she was killed by one of the De Vil boys. He told me once that he knew Killian had given him up as a snitch to prove his worth. The De Vil’s had nothing to do with the Southie boys, but he’d twisted it up in his mind. I never thought he’d do anything about it though. It was just crazy drunk venting one night.”

She knows August. Knows that he’s blaming himself for what happened tonight, but she ignores it. Nothing she says will stop him from tormenting himself, and she’s not done.

“I told him to choose David. He has this whole perfect life, you know. An adoring wife and a new baby, all of these people that would miss him if he were gone. I told Killian to save David, and I-” She hates how small she feels when she cries, but she can’t hold back the tears. “He gave me this look. He’s been cold, but this was something different. There was just so much anger in his eyes.”

And that’s when she breaks. Knowing that hated her was one thing, but watching him train his gun on her. Seeing the pure darkness in his eyes. She doesn’t know how to voice it to August, but she knows that if August hadn’t arrived when he did, she knows he would have done as she asked. That he wouldn’t have had to think twice about it. And it’s that knowledge that sliced open the last piece of her heart that had been hanging on by a thread, even after all that time.

August holds her through the tears, until she finally exhausts herself enough to sleep. And so she drifts off, completely unaware of the new voicemail alert waiting for her.

________________________________

The February air is cooler on the water and he kicks himself for not bringing a heavier jacket. It’s been ages since he’s been out on this boat, and time has helped him to forget everything except for the things he wishes he could. Liam always used to tease him, so much so that Killian would reject any offers of warmth from his brother just to prove a point. He wasn’t some silly kid that needed to be minded anymore. He was capable of doing everything on his own, except for bringing an extra coat. He forgot everytime, and today was no exception.

Luckily for Killian, the spare that Liam kept on the boat just for him is still in its place, folded neatly in a small storage locker below deck. It hits him in the gut a little, that Liam could be so right about some things and incredibly wrong about others.

It’s eating Killian alive, not talking to his brother. Not being able to express himself because despite everything Emma has done for him, Liam still doesn’t approve of her. Liam often still thinks of him as the teenage boy, awkward and desperate for approval from anyone that will give it to him, even if it means getting taken advantage of.

He’s not that kid anymore though. He isn’t letting his crush steal his essays and letting her claim this as her own. He isn’t using all of his hard earned money to buy her jewelry that she’s just going to pawn for cash later. He isn’t following after Emma like a lost puppy dog.

He’s in love with her, and he has a sneaking suspicion that she feels the same way. But at this rate, he’s never going to get Liam’s blessing, the only approval he needs anymore.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. He really shouldn’t. Not when he and Liam are sitting in a rented dilapidated loft across from an abandoned fabric warehouse waiting for the Canal Street Cutter to emerge. There had been a lot of chatter that morning about where he might be hiding and Liam assembled teams throughout South Boston hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Emma and August were stationed about eight blocks over. Lance and Arthur were on the edge of South Boston and Waterfront. Other teams were scattered, but too far away to get to if they needed assistance.

Killian had tried to tell Liam that it was a bad idea to spread everyone so thin, but the elder Jones brother had been instant and headstrong as ever. It would have been a career making arrest, and Liam, ever aspiring to be more just wouldn’t let that chance pass him by.

“I just think that you have other obligations that require your attention right now.”

“If this is the bros before hoes speech you can just save it.”

“Killian,” The exasperation evident in his brother's tone, “you know I detest such vile language. It's crude and you are better than that little brother.”

“What obligations?” He has to quash his desire to correct his brother’s description of him.

“I just think that you are meant for so much more in this life and I worry that you gave up so much when you left the narcotics division to follow her into homicide. You were a rising star there and now you’re having to cut your teeth all over again.”

“It’s not as if I’m starting all over. For God’s sake Liam, I just made Lieutenant. But there’s more to life than a job.”

His brother takes his gaze away from the binoculars to turn to Killian.

“Look at father and all of his vices. It strayed him from the path. But you, Killian, you persevered and now everything you've wanted is in your grasp.”

“This isn't the same thing and you know it. Emma isn't some pathetic man’s addiction. Liam, I'm in love with her.”

“Killian,” Liam pauses, taking a deep breath. “She's a distraction. Think of all that you’ve accomplished in the year that you were undercover. You brought down an entire crime syndicate. You did that without her taking your attention away.”

“I didn't bring the De Vil family down because ‘we’ were apart. I did it because we were ‘apart’ and I knew the only way I'd be able to see her again without putting her in harm's way would be to find the evidence and make the arrest.”

“Fine, if you need another reason, have you thought about working directly with her, or even over her in a supervisory position? Have you considered how your personal relationship with a subordinate could affect your judgment?”

“It’s not-”

Liams sees movement in the distance, cutting off Killian’s rebuttal, but his view is obscured so he motions for Killian to follow him, to leave the safety of their little room. They stay silent as they walk downstairs and head out a propped-open door leading to an alleyway. They had to wind through hallways to get from the loft outside and now they’re further away from the warehouse with no cover.

Killian even tries pointing out how visible they are, but Liam shuts him down, determined to close the case. He’s halfway sure that Liam’s trying to prove a point about how Killian can’t be successful and be in a relationship with Emma. He’s seen it before, the way professional jealousy destroys couples. But Emma’s not like that. She wouldn’t see his success as her failure.

They try to skirt the perimeter and he knows he should keep his mouth shut, this just isn’t the time, but he’s just so frustrated that he can’t keep holding it in.

“Please don’t make me choose between you.” It’s an angry whisper, more to himself than anything, and even though he did his best to keep his volume low it’s still enough that Liam’s heard and turns back to him, missing sight of the empty beer bottle at his feet.

The glass battering against the gravel echoes through the night as they both stay silent, waiting to see if they’ve been heard. The air is still around them, and Killian thinks they just might have lucked out.

And then he hears the gunshots ring out.

Liam is on the ground before Killian has time to register what’s happened. He runs to Liam, but gets knocked to the ground before he can get to him. His body hurts and he can see blood covering his hand from where he just touched his abdomen. He’s always heard people say that the shock blocks out the pain, but they must all be liars, because the longer he lays there, the more the pain intensifies.

It takes everything he has to pull himself behind a dumpster, half crawling, half slithering like a snake.

The shock eventually did kick in though, because even to this day he has no memory of radioing in for help. Just the vague memories of Emma leaning over him. The look in her eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears.

The same tears he fought back the night he left Boston, like the coward he was. But Archie was right. He needed to get his head on straight, to distance and center himself. He had to leave, for her.

He’s still wrestling with the guilt. He talked about it with Archie, how she begged him to kill her and save David. And that he actually considered it for about two full seconds. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want her feeling the way he did. The burden of knowing that someone else was dead, and knowing that no matter how good you are, how hard you try, that you’ll never live up to them. He didn’t want her hating herself the way he did. Didn’t want her to destroy herself like he had.

But then something snapped inside of him and rage bubbled up. The audacity of her to beg him to kill her. For her to try and force that decision on him, with no regard to him or his feelings.

It was at that moment that he finally realized what he’d been doing to her ever since Liam had passed away. He finally understood the choice she’d been forced to make that night. And he knew - he knew that despite it all - he could never live with himself if he’d chosen anyone but her. That he couldn’t let her go just like she didn’t with him.

The only thing that saved him was Boothe. In the moments that passed after August arrived, while the two of them tried to wrestle the gun away from Jefferson, he felt the weight of Liam’s death wash over him. And then he heard a shot ring out and there was nothing but panic. Panic and guilt.

It felt as though ages had passed as he searched for Emma in the smoke filled room. The SWAT team had moved in at some point, but he’d been too focused on fighting off Jefferson to notice. He pushed through the sting in his eyes and the tightness of his chest as he looked for her, but all he saw through the haze were armored cops everywhere.

It wasn’t until he was forcibly escorted outside the building that he saw her, saw that she was safe, and then his stomach turned. He ran around a corner away from all of the prying eyes, and for the first time in his career, he gave in and let the night overcome him.

It’s been nearly a year since that night and he’s been running ever since. Some days are better than others. The anger is mostly behind him, but some nights he still wakes up in a sweat clutching his bed sheets, ready to fight. But there’s never anyone around to take a swing at, because he’s all alone. He’s pushed away anyone that ever mattered and isolated himself on that damn boat.

He thinks of Emma, wonders if she’s moved on or not. He’s too cowardly to call her, partly because he has no idea what he will say if she answers, but mostly because he’s terrified that she won’t answer. So he broods. He takes to the local bars as he sails the coastline and drinks a little too much before stumbling back to Liam’s boat alone. It’s a wonder nobody’s robbed him yet for what a careless sot he’s been.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s made his way down to Florida and back, only a few hours away from Boston, and his demons are screaming again. He’s hoping against all hope that the rum in the tumbler across from him will help quiet them. Just holding the small glass in his fingertips helps a bit. A placebo of sorts. He doesn’t want to be this man anymore though. This pathetic lonely human. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Archie said that him realizing it was a good first step but he’s not sure if he agrees. He’s called Archie a lot over the last year. Somehow doing therapy over the phone as the boat sways back and forth under his feet has helped to ease his hesitancy. There’s something about knowing that he can hang up at any time if he wants, and that no one knows. No one will judge him.

They don’t talk about Emma, not in present tense at least. They’ve had conversations about the way he’s treated her in the past, about his complicated feelings for her, the way it’s all shaped him, but they never talk about her now. He’s not sure if it’s because Archie doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, or if Archie knows something that he’s absolutely not ready for.

Archie is here tonight though, the rum is.

He’s still twirling the amber in his hand as he hears the familiar scraping of a nearby barstool against a wooden floor. There’s a scent that follows, a floral perfume that doesn’t match with the musk of the dive bar. He doesn’t look at her directly, doesn’t need to when he can see her from the mirror behind the bar. Her top is low, flashing more skin that it’s covering. She’s closer than he thought.

“Is that for me?” She’s bold.

He’s reminded of those early days on the force, when he wouldn’t even have to talk to a woman. When he could just flash her a smile and she’d be on his arm heading out the door to her place. He’s not that guy though, he’s salty and cynical, and the look he flashes her is closer to a smirk.

“Excuse me?” “Well, you’ve been toying with it for almost twenty minutes. I just thought maybe you were waiting for me to walk into your life.”

Was he this bad at picking up women?

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m not in the mood for woman.” “So you’re gay?”

It’s a good thing he hasn’t started drinking yet because he damn well might have chocked otherwise. He doesn’t get a chance to respond though. The bubbly blonde that served him his rum has returned with a spray bottle in hand. “Mary of Mothers. Didn’t I already have you escorted out of here tonight, Teresa?”

“Bite me, Tinkerbelle.”

The girl behind the bar might be all of five foot tall but there’s a beast inside her that towers over any man in that bar and before he knows what’s happening the bartender is drowning the girl in what smells like stainless steel cleaner and the words coming out of her mouth would make any Navy man blush.

The girl ends up running away and Killian isn’t sure what to make of any of it. He’s broken up bar fights before, but he’s never seen anything quite like that.

“Sorry about that. I know this little bar might not seem like much, but it’s all I’ve got and I’ll be damned if I let the likes of her selling her body in here.” “Oh, she wasn’t-” “Trust me, where you had agreed upfront or not, you would have been light whatever cash you have left in that wallet before the night was up. And I’ll bet you dollars to pennies you would have had a lovely little itch or two down there.” She nods her head towards his crotch before switching the subject like she hadn’t just implied the poor woman from before was an STD ridden whore. “So, I haven’t seen you here before. Where you from?”

He’s not sure how she’s disarmed him so quickly, but he finds himself telling her all about himself over the next hour. Business has slowed down and her other barmate seems to be more than capable of handling the few strays still walking in.

She makes him laugh too with her feisty spirit. It’s been far too long since he’s felt at ease like this. They talk and talk. Not about much in particular, just random conversation. She bought the bar about six years ago, and tells him about how it’s let her build the family she always wanted and never really got. She’s carved out her own little place in the world and he envies her that. The way she can just lay her whole life bare to a complete stranger while he can’t even talk to the people that know him best.

The night rolls on and it’s time to close up. He half expects that she’s going to invite him upstairs, to the little apartment she mentioned earlier, but she surprises him. She’s done that a few times tonight, but this one hits him in the gut. “So, what’s her name?”

This time he actually does chock on the water she’s poured for him.” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Killian, in the last few hours, you’ve told me your entire life story, everything from your shitty father to your arrogant brother, your job, your leave of absence, but you haven’t mentioned a girl one single time. You’re holding back, which means there’s something to hold back.”

“You don’t know that. I could be gay.” “Um, ya, I saw you check out Teresa’s rack earlier, definitely not gay. So what’s the deal.” He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to be rude either. So he gives her as little as possible, but she sees through him. In fact, she actually asks him what the hell he’s waiting for as she pushes him out the door.

He doesn’t really know what he’s waiting for to be honest. He’s wanted to go back to Boston, but there’s just so many threads he left unravelled when he left.

[thelonelybrilliance]

2021 Fic List

*Gimli voice* "Final count? 120"

This included 55 for The Silmarillion (5 of those longer than 20k words), 65 for other fandoms (and 40+ of those for Friday Night Lights), plus, lucky Fixing on the Hour (NEW AND IMPROVED!), which I finished revising and reposting this year.

The Gold Rush AU is here, co-captained by @abadpoetwithdreams and @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey

A FNL masterlist is here

If you were wondering about the in-between pieces, here's a full, celebratory masterlist under the cut.

Marvel

Captain America/Agent Carter

where the light collects

Everyone’s life is framed by death. War hammers this point home like a nail. Peggy has scarcely stepped out from the shadow of her brother into the shape of Agent Carter before she meets another hero. This one is, at first, a good deal smaller than Michael was. This one, she is deadly certain, will not be allowed to break the rest of her heart.

Still—a hero.

Loki

those who expected lightning and thunder / are disappointed

Loki has not yet asked Sylvie about Thor.

Falcon and the Winter Soldier

The Man in the Moon

The thing about the moon is that all the world is in love with it, though no one has ever seen it up close.

what has to be done, again and again

You can’t change history. You can build a man out of bronze, and have that mean something to the world. You can, in turn, contend that the world means something to him.

But it takes a long time, to cast a legacy in metal, and most people only have one life to live.

Korean Dramas

The Guest: 손

have you no rebellion in your bones

You can be alive without really knowing you’re alive.

Ecdysis

The devil never gives up when he decides he wants a soul…

[Hwa Pyung knows he is blind.]

The Devil Judge: 악마판사

unending fires

Elijah remembers everything.

eat of the tree

"in another life we were of the same blood." - Louise Glück

(You are still the sound of his footsteps.)

Supernatural

Vintage Winchesters

I completed a series of season 1 episode tags, all 500 words a pop.

my heart was wild in me

Life of a hunter, and all that. There was no one else near this overlook; no cars passing on the stretch of highway nearby. He’d driven half an hour past the gas station before stopping. The mini-mart and lonely pumps had looked like the last place on earth, and he might have believed that, except he’d seen the ramshackle edges of the living world before. He rubbed his eyes. Then he got back in the car and kept driving.

The closer he got to Sam, the worse it was.

[Dean heads for California to get Sam]

the heart has two heads

A man had two sons, and was like God. Who is like God?

[Chuck character study]

we know who our enemies are (we know)

Funny thing is—funny—you don’t want to go to hell. Never did, of course, except for the single moment that mattered. Yes, you’ll do it. Yes, you’ll die for him. In a way, you want him to suffer, but only for you to see. You want him to suffer the abrasion of your protection: it means you’ll always be there for him. Death can’t take that away. In hell, you’ll still be here, because Sam will carry the pain of you.

[Dean, season 3]

Once Upon a Time

this spectacle that makes me small

Emma is not afraid of heights.

all love is time travel

Killian has long been a captain, and so he does not show weakness or indecision unless he wishes to. Still, the desire to vouch for their chances of success is difficult to balance with the pressing need to school those uninformed of Neverland’s horrors as to the dangers that lie ahead.

All this, under the sneer of Cora’s daughter and the reptile stare of his greatest enemy.

All this, before Emma Swan.

Shadowplay / The Defeated

the demon of the art of living

There are other conversations, stolen moments in a hopeless land, where she has teased a little and made Max smile at her. His eyes are never content, never at peace, but they are very kind. Claire knew at once what sort of man he was.

different heartbeats (but all the same heartbreak)

Pain is a small price to pay, but sometimes, it is also the final coin—the one placed in the mouths of corpses.

(How do you keep a soul from returning?)

[Max ponders the inevitable next move.]

The Vampire Diaries

the bright banner of your heart

Oh, death, where is your sting?

(Here.)

the drop-dead dream (the chosen one)

Damon doesn't write diaries. He writes letters he never sends.

Lord of the Rings

all kindled with an unconsuming fire

It was Boromir who first brought Faramir along the secret ways that led to the storied view of light through water.

Big Little Lies

here is my hand that will not harm you

Perry seemed like the answer to everything.

Sometimes he still does.

Black Sails

of the absence of regret

The sea’s a cruel mistress. It will pay you out, one way or another. It will kill you, but that comes later.

[Charles Vane/Eleanor Guthrie]

Fixing on the Hour (Genderbent P&P AU)

all that we are (is the greatest of victories)

Bing and Darcy explore Manhattan in winter.

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper, Chapter 3

Thank you: @veryverynotgood my phenomenal beta--you keep me going when I'm busy wallowing in doubt, and you make me less of a walking run-on (hooray!).

Bless y'all: the CSMM Discord crew--it's like a community of flails, encouragement, and collaboration...such magic!

Head's up: No description of violence nor abuse; however, they are mentioned.

AO3 Links: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Most days, Killian occupied himself either by helping Granny with the more physically taxing chores around the inn and diner or on board his ship ensuring her seaworthiness. Granted, the Jolly was in top form and she certainly had no need of repairs nor did she have a heading before her; but it quieted his mind to see to her every need and to painstakingly mend every frayed hem of a sail and worn bit of paint. Lately, he’d taken to wandering Storybrooke as Granny increasingly gave tasks over to young Felix.

The boy was coming along, a bit less surly now. Killian was certain this was due to Ruby’s unending praise of his efforts--no sixteen year-old lad could resist her charms. He’d had a hard time containing his laughter when he witnessed the latest scene: Ruby, clad in a button-down shirt she must have sewn onto herself each morning, batting her eyes at young Felix as she asked for his help bringing up kegs from the cellar. The boy had practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to assist, then struggled mightily as he puffed up the stairs with a metal cylinder that likely outweighed his slight frame. Killian had watched as Felix professed the task “no problem”, but had also seen his eyes widen to immense saucers when Ruby cheerfully called there were only “five more to go”. At that, Killian offered his assistance quietly, assuring the boy Ruby would never know that he had not fulfilled the task single-handedly. She was occupied cleaning up after the lunch crowd filtered out, so Killian helped Felix make short work of the task before ducking out the back and allowing the young man credit for the entire endeavor.

Today, however, there was little for him to do and it made Killian antsy. He took to wandering the shore as his mind drifted to the Crocodile, the Princess, and the confusion of his present state of affairs. His increasingly cloudy thoughts were interrupted by a shouted “Ahoy, Captain Hook!” and Killian’s eyes snapped to a strange wooden contraption where young Henry Mills stood, waving to him and grinning from ear to ear.

“Good afternoon,” he sketched a brief bow to the boy as he stepped up to what he now realized was Henry’s castle. Emma had mentioned it in passing as the place the young lad took refuge in his own thoughts, an all-too-familiar notion for Killian. “I was given to understand this time of day was set aside for studies, lad. Or am I mistaken?” He raised an eyebrow up at the boy who shook his head, informing Killian school had ended an hour ago.

“My moms are busy though,” he explained simply. “Regina has a meeting with someone who wants to open a new store, and Emma is in the mines because ‘ the dwarves are flipping out about some property rights ’.” Killian chuckled at the boy’s impression of his mother. He was invited into Henry’s castle where the two sat and looked out at the waves lapping against the shore. At first, the conversation was largely Henry reporting out about his school day. It seemed he was struggling with something math-related, and while Killian’s formal schooling was long behind him, he did offer the boy assistance.

“If, that is, your parents will allow it,” he added quickly, unsure where he stood in the strange dynamic of this town and particularly this family.

Henry snorted at that. “Regina might get weird about it, but she’s trying to make up for the whole...Evil Queen thing, so I think I can manage one mom. The other mom…” he shrugged “I don’t think she’d mind as long as I’m not asking her the math questions. She said it was her least favorite subject in school.”

Killian steeled himself for his next question, taking a deep breath and levelling his gaze at Henry. “And your father?”

Henry made a face at that. “I don’t really know,” he admitted in a tone Killian couldn’t quite decipher. “He was supposed to pick me up from school today,” Henry tucked up his knees and rested his chin on them in a pose Killian had seen Emma take up as well. It seems they both made themselves smaller in these moments of questioning.  “I don’t know if he forgot, or if something came up...I don’t think he knows what to do with me.” Henry peeked up at Killian, looking so uncertain of himself that it nearly broke the man’s heart. He knew what it was to feel on uneven ground with one’s father, to feel more a burden than a blessing, and he refused to allow Henry’s mind to wander those dark halls. While he could offer no real comfort when it came to the man Neal seemed determined to remain, he could offer a promising distraction that should spark young Henry’s curiosity.

“Well, whatever may be delaying him, it certainly has come at an opportune moment for me. Would you care to join me on board the Jolly , Master Mills? It’s past time she received an inspection from a keen eye such as yours.” The boy’s face lit up immediately and he jumped up, grabbing a device from his jacket pocket. After a moment’s pause, Killian heard a tinny version of Emma's voice as Henry hurriedly explained the plan to his device, suppressing a smile as Henry rolled his eyes at his mother’s questions.

“Yes, we’ll stay in the harbor,” he glanced at Killian who nodded along. “Yes, I will stay away from the railing and listen to everything--did you just call him Killian ? That’s weird, Mom, he’s a Captain...well, you’re supposed to address him by title because it’s his ship, of course…yes, yes, no….Mom, I’m not gonna die. I’m gonna go around the harbor with a master sailor…”

Killian knew the lad had won out when a rushed series of ‘thank you’s’ left his mouth before he tucked the device away once more. “She says, ‘tell The Captain that if you come back with one hair out of place, I’ll shave his off with David’s longsword’. She’s just being weird, I know we’re gonna be great--let’s go!” The lad took hold of Killian’s hook and led him down the small stairs onto the sand, setting off in the direction of his ship.

Once aboard, Henry was clearly overcome with curiosity. His return trip from Neverland hadn’t afforded him much time to explore or ask questions. In fact, he’d largely been asleep from pure exhaustion. For Killian, the afternoon with Henry was a remarkable chance to see his ship through the eyes of another. The boy’s questions seemed endless, and while they started with simple questions of identification--what parts of the rigging were called, the names of the various decks and quarters--they quickly expanded to encompass how everything came together to make her sail. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it brought Killian so fully out of his earlier sour mood that it nearly felt like Henry had his own kind of magic.

“Okay, but how do you get up to the crow’s nest?” Henry scrutinized the location through narrowed eyes. Killian stepped in behind him, pointing out the most logical route through the rigging. “Cool! Can I try?”

“I...don’t think that’s wise, lad. I prefer my head firmly attached, and your mother may well remove it if she finds out I let you free-climb the rigging.” Henry turned to face him, a mischievous smirk on his face as he intoned that she didn’t have to know about it.

“While I appreciate the enthusiasm, I need her to like me far better than she does before I conspire against her wishes. A rogue can only get away with so much when it comes to the tenacity of a mother,” he winked, and hoped like hell the boy would let it go. Of course, as Emma’s child he should have known that would be improbable at best.

“Oh, she likes you well enough.” Killian furrowed his brow at this while Henry grinned. Obviously the lad knew how to catch his attention, though just how aware he was of what Killian felt for Emma was still unclear-- the notorious Captain Hook, bested by a child . “You earned a ton of points with her in Neverland,” Henry clarified. “I know she didn’t tell me everything, but she did tell me you saved my grandpa, and I already know you saved me. Since she just got this part of her family back, you gotta know that earned you like...a million points in her eyes. You could totally stand to lose a few of them and teach me how to get up there.”

It took Killian another five minutes to finally persuade Henry that rather than risk a broken arm, or worse, he should simply ask Emma for permission before he learned to scout from above. The cost of negotiations wasn’t much, Henry simply wanted to learn to steer the ship, and so Killian guided him in his quest as they toured the harbor together. The lad had adventure in his blood, that much Killian was certain of, and it seemed he just might be falling in love with the sea as well. The idea tugged at Killian’s heart, as did the pure joy he saw in the boy’s face when they returned to port after the successful little journey.

After receiving a message on his device, Henry mentioned needing to return to his grandparents’ loft, and Killian was happy to escort him, listening to Henry’s re-telling of their afternoon on the Jolly and basking in the shared moment. To hear Henry tell it, you’d think they’d travelled across a realm or two rather than simply around Storybrooke’s small harbor.  He wondered how the boy would tell it to his mother and what she would think. Would she be angry at Killian and think he had overstepped? Would Henry mention his father’s neglect today?

His thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at the door and Henry flung his arms around Killian. He hesitated only a moment before returning the fierce embrace. “Thanks, Captain,” the boy grinned up at him. “Next time, I’m going up that rigging though. And I’m learning how to use your spyglass up there, right? I wanna see everything--as far out as I can!”

Killian chuckled, “So long as you have it in writing from your mother, aye lad.”

---

Two nights later, Killian awoke to someone pounding on his door in the middle of the night and he bolted upright, grabbing his hook from the bedside table as he crossed the pitch-black room. He swung the door open to reveal a distraught Emma Swan, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm at her side.

“I didn’t know where else to go, but I couldn’t stay in that loft for another minute,” she explained, voice cracking. “Can I come in?”

Killian stepped aside, allowing her to pass before he followed and shut the door behind them, clicking on the lamp by the bed and sitting down. There was little room, and she took a spot near him on the bed, her right leg bouncing as she stared down at the floor. He gave her a moment, but when she showed no signs of relaxing he gently spoke her name, “Swan?” Her leg stilled and she looked up, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Swan, what’s wrong?”

As he waited for her response, Killian wracked his memory--what had happened over the course of the last few days? He’d seen her in the diner each morning when she picked up her coffee and there had been no hint of whatever was on her mind. He’d run into her at the library when Henry was doing research for a school project and he was reading up on this realm’s history, but she’d been perfectly fine and that was only yesterday. They’d even discussed finding volunteer work for Felix as he was starting to grate on Granny’s nerves, Swan mentioning it may be best if the boy also enrolled in school. What could have changed so much since yesterday? He searched her eyes and waited, hoping she would reveal the problem in due time.

“I yelled at them,” she murmured at last, dropping her eyes back to the floor.

“Pardon? At whom?” He’d seen Emma yell at a fair number of people, himself chief among them, and didn’t recall her reacting in this way before.

“My parents,” she clarified, “I yelled at Snow White and Prince Charming of all people, and I know I hurt them...she was crying when I left the loft, but I was just...I was so angry with them that I couldn’t, I mean, I can’t be there right now.” She sniffed, and Killian saw her shoulders start to shake. He took a risk, trying his hand at comfort when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and to his surprise she willingly leaned into him. Silence fell between them. He knew there was far more to the story, but wanted to let her move at her own pace and tell it in her way rather than pry it out of her.

She wiped her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she started, “I don’t know what I was doing, I just had to get out and you were the only person I thought might answer the door this late.”

“Always available to help a lady in distress, Swan,” he tried a light jest and was rewarded with poke to his ribs. “Oww--just going to wake a man up and bruise him in his own room?” He pulled back to smile at her and she immediately scooted away, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. It was then he realized they’d never shared a touch that gentle and intimate. Yes, they had kissed-- and gods what a kiss it was --but moments before he’d been granted permission to hold her. It was just the two of them in the quiet hours of the night, and she had spent these vulnerable moments cradled against his bare chest. He cleared his throat and asked softly, “What was it that upset you so? Is there something I can do to help?”

She shook her head, tucking her legs under her as she chewed her bottom lip. With a huff, she continued. “They asked if I wanted to have family dinner, and that’s kind of...new, but I went with it. So Regina dropped Henry at the loft and I thought it was going to be--anyway, it wasn’t what I thought. Neal showed up ten minutes later.” She was picking at the quilt on the bed and wouldn’t meet Killian’s eyes, probably for the best given the sneer he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Henry, so I just went along with things at dinner. I figured I could deal with a couple of hours, plus the kid is a hell of a buffer and good at keeping everyone talking, but I know he didn’t show up the other day when you and Henry went sailing. I know when Henry talks Neal only half listens.” She paused for a long while, and Killian crossed the room, offering her the flask he pulled from the pocket of his greatcoat.

She took a swig and rolled her shoulders, visibly trying to relax before turning back to face him. After a soft word of thanks, she continued. “When Henry left, Neal stuck around. My parents offered him a nightcap and asked if he’d like to stay over .” It didn’t take the experience of Dr. Hopper to see she was disturbed by this. “And I lost it. I am so sick of their meddling, and their bizarrely perfect vision of him that I completely snapped. I spit out the whole story--”

Killian sat up straighter at this, aware she’d built up momentum and certain he was about to have another piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan click into place.

“How he’d preyed on a goddamn homeless teenager, offering her shelter when he knew she didn’t have any of her own. How he knocked up a fucking seventeen year old and left her to rot in jail for his crimes, never bothering to admit his own guilt, never checking in to learn he’d fathered a child,” her tears flowed freely and her eyes blazed like emerald fire. “I told them the truth. That he was a predator, and I was too young and stupid to know better, and that I didn’t have the luxury of having anyone to warn me about people like him, of having anyone who cared enough to see the situation for what it was.”

Her breathing hitched and Killian instinctively reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace and stroking her hair as she lost the final shreds of her composure. She sobbed against him and he murmured to her small comforts, that it would be all right and she didn’t have to be alone. After a while, her sobs diminished, lessening to sniffles and gasping breaths. He rubbed slow circles on her back and she finished her tale, tone empty and defeated, “I told them exactly what I finally realized: that I was abused by the man they keep inviting into our family, and that I cannot be in that place if they really think I’m supposed to patch things up with him and act like none of this happened, like it didn’t matter that he used me and threw me away.”

His heart broke for her, eyes stinging with unshed tears as he listened to the culmination of her loss and pain. “I don’t know how to face them again,” she mumbled against Killian’s chest, sagging against him in complete exhaustion. He assured her she needn’t think of that now, that what she needed was rest. And he offered to share the space with her. She nodded quietly, taking the offered shirt and pants and leaving to change in the adjoining bathroom.

Killian lay back, propped up on a pillow while his mind processed all she’d told him. He knew without a doubt her parents would mend this relationship, though it may well take time. He knew as well that whatever he’d promised Neal, that oath had been needless. In fact, the larger problem Killian now faced was how to make it through the next twenty-four hours without gutting Neal with his hook. The man had taken advantage of Emma, had framed her for his crime, and had abandoned her. It seemed Bae had become his father after all, and that did not bode well for him in Killian’s eyes.

His violent contemplations were interrupted by a bashful looking Emma, clad all in his own black attire and softly padding across the small room. “I’ll take the side by the door, Swan. Old habits, you know,” he nodded toward the cutlass by the bed and his hook which once again lay atop the nightstand. She smiled sheepishly as she slid under the covers next to him, offering a soft word of thanks and curling up with her back to him. He clicked off the light, desperately hoping she couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart as Killian tried like hell to fall back asleep.

Thanks for reading! Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @gingerpolyglot, @hollyethecurious, @caught-in-the-filter, @lonelyspectator12, @donteattheappleshook

[ryik-the-writer]

CHAPTER 29: Instincts

A03

         Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

·         Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

·         Chapter 3: Day One

·         Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

·         Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

·         Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

·         Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

·         Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

·         Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

·         Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

·         Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

·         Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

·         Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground

·         Chapter 14. Recovery

·         Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

·         Chapter 15: Trapped

       Chapter 16: Filth

       Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1

       Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2

       Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2

       Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1

       Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2

       Chapter 24: Closing

       Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan

       Chapter 26: Temporary Fix

       Chapter 27: The Search Begins

        Chapter 28: The Missing Pan

So this is what death feels like? It’s not terrible, just incredibly long.

Dehydration had long set in, so much so that even Pan’s eyes were dry.

Jones was refusing to give him food and water until he “revealed what he knew.”

Pan would, of course, tell him to fuck himself. Nevermind that he had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

Maybe it was journalistic instincts or his own, but Pan wanted to know what Jones was going on about, why he thought kidnapping him would give him what he wanted.

He had been waiting for the man to finally spill, but Jones seemed to be as clever as he was.

Pan would die a slow painful death with an unknown secret. He could only hope it tore Jones to pieces.

But it was harder for him to focus on disemboweling Jones when his own demise were front and center.

It was odd how unafraid he was. Annoyed and pained, yes, but not necessarily scared.

He remembered wanting to die on plenty of occasions: when he was a snot-nosed little punk in Scotland and his father used to wail on him, when he found out Belle was in love with his fucking brother of all people. When he’d be on a high after writing an amazing story that ruined someone’s life. Even in between the better moments of his life, when he was investigating with Felix or having drinks with Tink and Lily, when he just couldn’t find peace.

When he was with Wendy and he felt so grounded he couldn’t take it.

Shit. He swore he wouldn’t think about her. Wouldn’t think about any of the people he gave a shit about.

Yeah, now that he was on death’s door, he could finally admit to himself that he kind of gave a shit about something.

His pride and his ambition had stood in the way for so long, he had plenty of time to realize when those walls had come down.

Wendy fucking Darling.

She’d gotten under his skin, into his veins. He’d become desperate for her presence, for her validation.

For her smile.

“She’s really beautiful you know,” Jones had gloated to him last night as he drunk from that damned flask of his. “Really something. I might just get a taste of her myself.”

A weak snarl was all Pan was able to muster, but his brain was burning with all the things he was going to do to him the second he had these fucking cuffs off.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he was still hanging on. He wanted Jones’s blood to soak his lips, give him the hydration he had denied him for days now.

Or maybe he truly had gone soft and he wanted to see her and everyone else again.

All the people who hated him and cared for him…he was going to be lost to them now.

It was true then: Peter Pan didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be forgotten about.

And he wanted to see her again.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 “What are we doing?” Wendy laughed as Killian drug her up the boat.

Jones hid his smile well. “You shall soon see, Miss Darling.”

Wendy shrugged and followed, charmed that he still referred her to something so gentle. He’d been courting her for three days now, and each time they were together she found herself a bit more star struck.

Killian was so far advanced in the world than she. He had seen things, been places she’d only seen on maps, lived as a person she was far from being.

But Wendy ate up his stories, usually told over brunch or a nice picnic.

Tonight however would be the first time they’d have dinner, and have it on his vast ship she’d been admiring from the dock for some time now.

She was grateful for his company just as much as she was for the distraction from her current dilemmas.

Pan still had yet to return or make his location known. They were both set to return to the Mirror in a few days with their suspension ending, and she only hoped he thought to come back by then.

She could honestly care less at this point, she had decided, squashing the guilt she felt. Pan had made his decision, had chosen to push her so far away he could never find her again. She wouldn’t be the one to try to make amends if he returned.

The “if” part was what was keeping her from falling asleep at night. If he’d been more ceremonial in his departure, she might be more relaxed. But he just vanished. No note, no hints. Not even a plan for his cat. He pretty much left the poor thing to starve.

Wendy still checked in on the creature, but had slowly made the transition to her own apartment. Sometimes at night, when she was getting out of the tub or combing her hair, she’d look down her window at his building and spare the thought that he was coming back soon.

But it was just a flutter of a thought, and she would return to the present. Story ideas for when she returned to work, making peace with Tink, and Jones.

Wendy would be the first to admit she was naïve when it came to dating. Her first and only beau, Edward, had been more boring than a sack of flour and their breakup had been a celebration for her.

What she had with Pan was more of a fight to the death speckled with quick moments of peace. It was stimulating but painful all at once.

Whatever she was building with Jones excited her. It wasn’t the back and forth screaming match she had with Pan. It was tamer, and felt unabashedly like romance.

“You know, the last time my view was obstructed I solved a nearly decade’s old mystery in this town,” Wendy deadpanned as she felt a railing under her hand. They were going up something. And they were on the docks judging by the scent of salt in the air.

Killian’s chuckle rumbled through her back. “I’ve heard a great many about your adventures in town. You’ll have to tell me all about them.”

Wendy felt around until she found his hand, and he paused.

“I haven’t finished learning about you,” Wendy pointed out, her heart speeding up.

She felt Killian’s warm breath on the edge of her ear. “I have to keep some of my secrets, love.”

Wendy swallowed hard. Damn. Now it was more than the darkness that made her heart swell.

Thankfully though, that part soon passed and Killian removed the blindfold.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the setting sun, and then the sight before her made her gasp.

 A well-set table decorated the deck of Killian’s ship, complete with a bucket of ice and what looked like champagne.

She could smell garlic in the air, not doubt encased in whatever was under the metal dishes on the table.

Killian had passed her and began lighting the elongated candles on the table.

“What is all this?” Wendy laughed.

“An anniversary dinner of sorts,” Jones winked.

“We’ve barely been acquainted a full week,” Wendy pointed out, following him when he motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs that he had pulled out.

“Then we have something to celebrate,”

Wendy watched him, amused as he popped open the champagne and poured them each a glass. He raised his, tipping it towards her.

“To five days of a beautiful relationship,”

Wendy scoffed. She could toast to that, and she did, tapping her glass to his.

She took a slow sip of the bubbly drink, stilling her flinch at the strong alcohol. She’d never had anything stronger than a glass of wine at her college graduation and she knew her tolerance would be very low.

He drained his glass quickly but made no attempt to refill his or hers.

“And now,” he bowed, lifting the lid off their plates.

Wendy witnessed a well-crafted dish of crispy fish surrounded by colorful vegetables in a sort of white broth.

She glanced up at Killian and noticed the slight hesitation in his eyes.

Oh my gods, she thought, he’s nervous about his food!

Wendy picked up her fork, getting a bite of everything on the utensil. The vegetables were a bit salty for her preference, but the fish melted on her tongue.

She chuckled. Of course someone who lived on a ship would know how to cook a good fish.

She smiled as to ease Killian’s mind.

“Delicious.”

He glowed at the compliment and comfortably began to eat his own dish.

Wendy continued to examine him, wishing more than anything that she could figure out his game. Jones didn’t make her uncomfortable, not really, but he did make her question his motive and his interest in her.

“You’re quite distracted for someone eating some of the highest quality crawfish on this side of Maine,” Jones joked when he noticed her inquisitive expression.

He’d been taking small circles around her, disguising his intentions. Tonight was the final test, one last go before he decided—not if—but how he would eliminate her.

He was starting to doubt that she knew anything at all.

“I was just thinking about you,” Wendy said boldly.

Jones stopped chewing, the slightest tension curling his fingers.

“Aye?” he said, keeping his demeanor.

“I was thinking of me as well,” she admitted. “How I know so little of you yet came onto your ship—lovely craftsmenship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, easing a bit. Wendy was young, and hopefully easily distractible.

“I feel like I should be afraid of you,” she continued, not feeling the least bit foolish about the reveal of such a personal thought. She’d fought off maniacs and barely escaped with her life; she wasn’t afraid to admit if she was scared or not.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you, and for all I know you poisoned the very food I just ate, or you plan on knocking me cold and dumping me into the harbor.”

One out of two, not bad, he thought.

Still, he to keep the game going, had to pull her out of that state of uneasiness if he wanted to win.

“Allow me to put you more at ease,” he offered. He stood and made his way across the deck where he had set up an old vinyl player.

Wendy gasped when he turned on a gentle tune, looking up at him with stars in her eyes when he came back to her and held out his hand.

“Care for a dance, Miss Darling?”

Wendy’s stomach twisted, the memory of Pan twirling her around the club downtown causing a periscope of emotions to crash over her.

She took Jones’s hand and squeezed it, praying the memory would leave her.

As Jones guided her down the deck and positioned his hands like a true gentlemen, she decided she could leave it indeed.

“Now,” he said as they moved. “Allow me to ease your mind. Ask me a question, anything you like, but I want to ask you one in return.”

“I’m a journalist, Mr. Jones, I’m fairly good at asking questions.”

 “Then make them count,” he grinned.

She accepted his challenge, licking her lips as she laid out in her mind exactly what she wanted to know.

“Do you live on this ship?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Hey now,” she chastised.

Jones chuckled. She really was a delight.

“It was an antique I restored for one of my clients,” he said. She didn’t need to know that said client had been disemboweled by him on the very deck they were dancing on.

“He practically gave it to me when I finished.”

“You’re a carpenter then. A traveler as well?”

“One question at a time, Miss Darling,”

“Not a question. More like an observation.” she corrected.

He smiled. Witty as well.

“Tell me, how did such a well-established lady like yourself end up in Maine of all places?”

Wendy scoffed, the life she had before Storybrooke seeming so long ago.

“An internship. It was really an excuse to leave home and see a bit of the world, but I decided to try to make it a career. It’s been…”

Jones’s smile faded when Wendy’s tenseness caused them to stop. As if sensing her distress, the vinyl player abruptly stopped its song.

“Are you alright,” Jones inquired.

Wendy gulped, memories of that devil woman Cruella and that sick bastard Jekyll crawling through her brain.

“It hasn’t been easy being here,” she said.

It hasn’t been easy being with Pan, she wanted to say.

“That lad, the one who abandoned you” Jones pushed. “Does he have anything to do with that?”

Of course, Jones knew the answer to that, having had said lad in his company for several days now.

“More than you could ever know.”

Jones tilted his head. It was really tragic, watching such a vibrant creature fade over such a wretched little creature.

He cupped her cheek and turned her to him, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin.

“Let him go, love,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

Wendy Darling was innocent, both in spirit and in the crimes he had stacked against her. It didn’t stop what he had to do, but he would prefer that her last memories were pleasant.

But Wendy was plagued by the pandemic that was Pan. She told him in her message to him that she had to let him go, there was no room anymore to wait on him.

Yet he was still in her mind. She wanted to let him go, needed to.

She looked into Jones’s smiling eyes, this enigma of a man who had wondered into her life. Maybe it was fate’s way of telling her to move on, or perhaps just a coincidence.

Either way, she needed his help.

She cupped the hand on her face, keeping him where he was.

He didn’t move, perhaps sensing what she wanted to do, needed to do.

She leaned in, leaning up just enough so that their lips touched.

Kissing Killian was like tasting the rarest of liquor: it was addictive, intoxicating, dangerous. Wendy weaved her fingers into his hair, her other hand unsure quite where to venture next.

But Jones did. He led it to his chest, one of his hands cupping her waist with purpose, the other traveling to tangle in her locks.

He felt Wendy tensed under his touch and he pulled back.

“Please, not my hair,” she said, ashamed.

He nodded, uncertain and shocked when his heart lurched at her pained expressin. “Do you want to stop?:

Wendy wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Was she really about to go through with this? Have relations with someone she’d only known a few days?

She thought about all the morals that had been lodged into her mind since girlhood. They seemed so faint now, a side effect, she thought, of being in the presence of someone as moralless like Pan.

Truth was she wanted to do it, wanted to fill that emptiness Pan had created in her.

“Where…is there…”

He nodded, knowing her mind and lead her to his sleeping quaters.

He sat her down on his bed, hands twitching by his side while the rest of him remained still.

This had to be her choice. He couldn’t continue unless she made the first move.

They stared at each for a moment, their heavy breathing subsiding as Wendy made up her mind.

She reached a hand out, inviting him.

A small smile curled on his lips. He took it and got down on one knew, hands guiding up her smooth knees.

Wendy leaned forward and began to remove his shirt as he lifted his arms up to let her.

The weight of her inexperience began to thrive as she gazed upon his lean, mature form. He had little knicks and scars on his arms and chest, tales of a life he . Just like her.

She felt so small compared to him, so young. She considered calling this whole thing off—she knew he’d respect it.

“Nervous, love?” he inquired.

He intertwined his fingers in the hand that had undressed him.

“Let me lead, Wendy,”

She allowed it. Allowed his hands and lips to seek her out.

He was gentle. He wanted to be.

Wendy wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded in the past. She had this air of sophistication he hadn’t known before, cutting deeply into the innocence she wore like a torn coat.

But her passion, bless her. She allowed the instinct to take over, to guide her hands and lips to places he wants them to be.

He’s struggling to contain himself, his own instinct telling him to conquer, but Wendy doesn’t deserve that.

It was part of the game, after all. Seduce the pretty girl woman, kill her and be done with it. One last round of euphoria before he moved on to the next target.

His kisses are heated, biting, but patient – she allows him to remove her clothes, carefully.

He moans when her soft, round lips mouth down his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist, caressing her bareness possessively, greedily. He soon draws her mouth to his own once more.

“Wendy,” he breathes, almost trembling. Her name alone is so delicate.

She looks at him and he is so proud of the fire in her eyes.

“I…” she begins, stopping and laughing nervously.

He couldn’t stop his own from breaking free. He picks her up just enough to spread her on his sheets, ready for the next bit.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. It’s a line he’s used on his targets before as he’s reeled them in. The answer’s always the same. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they?

But something in Wendy’s expression changes. There’s no hesitation in her eyes, but an unwavering defiance that changes everything.

“No, Killian,” she said with a sad smile. “I don’t trust you at all.”

Indeed, those few words change everything.

When she leans up to kiss him, he doesn’t return the gesture right away.

Wendy Darling is indeed not like the other women he’s dealt with. She’s young, charismatic, and worst of all, far from a fool.

Her hand strokes his jaw, turning him back to her.

“But I still want you,” she says, her very being glowing. “Is that alright?”

The man between her legs accepts her in earnest, those predatory eyes fluttered shut as he pressed into her hand.

  Oh Wendy, run, he wants to say.

  “That it is, love,” he says instead, sealing her fate.

  Hours later Jones examined her in the fading moon light. The game had stopped. Maybe it had been over the second he asked Wendy her name.

She was breathing so tenderly, so calm despite the fact that she had just slept with someone who had been killing people longer than she’d been alive.

Unperturbed that she and her little friend below were teetering on death’s door.

He rose and dressed quietly, slipping the sheet fully around her body, but he didn’t kiss her temple despite how he desperately wanted to.

He heads below, pausing to grab a bottle of water, an act that surprises even him.

He makes his way below deck slowly, the form of his captive becoming clearer the closer he gets. Within a moment he make out the lad’s deadly glare.

“You fucker,” he wheezes.

Jones smirks. “Oh, so you heard?”

Pan lurched forward, thwarted by his shackles but the malice in his eyes didn’t die.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

Jones chuckled, pulling a barrel forward as he reveled in one-upping the pious lad.

His smirk faded though as he thought of Wendy.

He was due to report back to his contact tomorrow afternoon. He was expected to report two deaths and he hadn’t managed to kill off the one before him.

Now as he stared at the glaring youth and his thoughts stayed on the blonde goddess above his head, for the first in his like Killian Jones was having second thoughts…about everything.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Jones tested. Of course Pan didn’t respond.

Jones sighed. He couldn’t just let him go. He had been noticed by now. Jones heard whispers in the street of his disappearance. He needed to be dealt with now.

Jones uncapped the bottle he brought with him. Pan struggled to keep his eyes from following the sloshing of the water.

His capture held it out to his cracked lips. “Take it.”

Pan turned his head. No matter how much he needed it, he wouldn’t give in.

Jones growled and grabbed Pan by his hair, forcing his head down. He squeezed the bottle and water spewed all over Pan’s face and hair, the lad struggling fruitlessly in his grip as he cough and wheezed.

Jones threw him back, glaring at him as he cursed and shook the water off.

“What the fuck do you want!” Pan yelled.

Jones stood and backhanded him. “Shut up. You’ll wake her.”

Blood oozed from Pan’s right nostril, moistening his lips.

“I’m going to break your fucking neck!”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” Jones sighed as he flicked stray water droplets off his hands. “You see, boy, I have to end you soon.”

Pan’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t fret, I’ll be quick, simple. I’ll grant you that.”

“It’s lasted for days,” Pan reminded him with a snarl.

Jones shrugged. “As for our lovely Miss Darling …”

Pan paused, dreading the words that would come from his mouth next.

“Tell me,” Jones said, his tone sincere. “Do you think she’d dig further if I let her alone? Do you think she’d try to find your murderer once your bloated corpse washes up on shore?”

Pan gritted his teeth. Hearing her passion had disturbed him. He had yet to picture her in such a way, let alone with his damn kidnapper.

Now she was above him more close to death than he was, and he couldn’t save her.

And then there was the question of would she try to avenge him.

He hoped not. He truly did.

Jones tilted his head as Pan’s mind raced. He almost felt sorry for the boy, having such a lovely creature so close to his closed-off heart.

He stood, his decision made.

“Good night, boy,” he sighed, closing the door on his returning remarks.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wendy’s eyes opened, the earliest rays of a new day awakening her.

She hadn’t meant to spend the night here, didn’t expect she’d be welcome.

Yet her bed partner was sleeping comfortably beside her, one his arms draped loosely on her waist, and she did indeed feel welcomed.

Maybe she could stay here a bit longer and enjoy the smell of sea air and warmth.

But natured called, and she did have to at least check her phone.

Maybe Pan…

No, she wouldn’t think about him.

Let him go…

She sighed and regrettably removed herself from Jones’s hold, blushing when the sheets scraped her naked skin.

It was hard to believe. She’d been beaten and traumatized but the idea of giving up her womanhood was what was having the most profound effect on her.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore. It was the last thing she’d managed to hold on to from before Storybrooke before all its insanity got its hooks into her.

Now, with her short hair and circled eyes, she truly wasn’t the same girl who’d left London over two months ago.

She was new, darker.

Pan had given her her start; Jones had pushed her over the edge.

And, despite the morals swimming in her head, she was glad.

She was glad it had been her choice, that it was something she had had complete control of.

She smiled as she put on her underthings and dress, stalling her movements to prevent from making a noise. Perhaps Jones would be interested in hearing her revelation when he awoke?

Perhaps he also wouldn’t mind if she searched for substance in his kitchen? That crawfish from last night was long gone.

She located her bag and cellphone and quietly escaped the room, swiping through app notifications that had all but drained her battery.

She stopped in the hallway when she saw she had seven missed calls, three of which were from Tink.

She had a series of missed texts from her as well.

Wendy, please call me.

Wendy, it’s important.

I know I hurt you, but please I need you to call me.

Do you know what happened to Pan? Have you see him at all?

Wendy glanced around and found a random door. The room seemed to be an office of sorts, or a collection room judging by all the memorabilia, but quiet enough to make a phone call.

She called Tink, her stomach turning with apprehension. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Pan’s absence then.

Tink answered after two rings.

“Wendy!” she said, her voice winded.

“Hey,” Wendy answered uncertainly. “What’s—”

“Where are you?” she cut in. “You – here – as soon as –”

“Tink?” Wendy said, moving around the room for a better signal. “You’re breaking up. What’s going on?”

“Wend—”

The line abruptly went quiet and Wendy cursed when she saw her phone had died.

She tossed her bag on Jones’s desk and untangled her charger from the rest of her belongings.

She squatted down to search under the desk, hoping to see a charging port, but there were too many boxes in the way.

She made a note to tease Jones’s about his hoarding as she pulled boxes out of the way, one of which was surprisingly lite and came out easily.

She stumbled a bit, tipping the box over and causing its contents to spill.

“Bloody hell,” she growled, her hands gathering the sheets of papers that had slipped out.

She shouldn’t have looked. Maybe it was journalist instincts that caused her to look down. It was defiantly trauma that made her bolt back when she saw the face on the paper.

Jekyll.

“No.”

No…no no…

It couldn’t be. How could Jones … why would he …

Her opposite hand fluttered around her, searching desperately for something to grab on to.

It brushed against something hard—a beeper? Hand’s shaking, she picked it up. She wasn’t sure what force was making her turn it on. She should be throwing it.

But it came to life and revealed its secrets.

WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED?

COMPRIMISED. BLUE EYES FOUND.

“Blue eyes,” Wendy pondered before the bluest pair of eyes she knew flashed across her mind. “Belle?”

PITY. YOU ARE NO LONGER OF ANY USED TO ME THEN.

GOODBYE.

That was it, and if Wendy had to guess Jekyll had had his brains blown out after receiving that message.

She dropped the beeper, wiping her hands frantically on her dress, not wanting any part of her on him.

She had been searching for Pan that night at the club. He had disappeared. She thought he abandoned her.

Jones had it. All this evidence that had been taken from…where? His secret lab under the hospital…

The car his corpse had been rotting in?

“I … I …”

Panic was setting in. The roots of her hair were standing straight up.

She could see Jekyll’s rotting corpse so clearly.

Pan had been there too. Talking to her. Keeping her from losing her mind.

She was searching for him in a sea of strangers. She felt so lost.

There had to be a logical explanation, right? Jones just picked up the beeper, found it somewhere …

She glanced at the overturned box again, full of Jekyll’s fucking face.

He didn’t pull them out of a dead man’s car, did he?

“Wendy?”

He heard him stop, seeing the mess around her.

She looked up at him and saw everything. The guilt of being caught, the secret of a man who had too many secrets.

And she knew right then that Jekyll wasn’t the only one.

It was like an arrow had gone straight through her skull, carrying a physical rage and boiling hurt that settled into one acidic fire.

She shot around, staring at the man who shot her, but only one thing—one person—had squirmed past the pain.

Pan hadn’t abandoned her…

And she needed him now.

She abandoned him.

“Where is he?”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yeah, I don’t write sex scenes sorry ;p

Still, sorry for the, what, year-long wait? Yikes. Going through some stuff and I just haven’t felt like writing. Trying to get into again, so hold on tight!

[firelxdykatara]

hello!! i just wanted to ask- i wanna do an ouat rewatch bc CAPTAIN SWANN but its pretty long and i honestly dont care for the other characters/how badly the overall writing was handled.. which are your favourite captain swan eps? anything them centered and i think ill just skip around to rewatch their romance as they did invent romance 😭😭 ty in advance <3

they absolutely did invent romance, you are right about that and i love them so much

UHMMMM as far as my favorite CS eps, here’s a roadmap of what I personally consider key eps in their journey (some of this is from memory but I haven’t done a full rewatch in a while so i’m going through the episode list as a refresher)

2x06: Tallahassee--this is a must-watch ep for any CS fan, and I really think this is the episode that sparked the fire that CS would become as a fandom. It has everything--flirtatious banter, all kinds of tension, deliberate parallels drawn between Emma and Killian’s pasts, as well as their first meeting being intercut with her relationship with Neal (which serves, especially in hindsight, to highlight just how sketchy that relationship was, and why she couldn’t bring herself to trust Killian--because the last time she felt this way about anyone, it ended horribly)

2x08 and 2x09: Into the Deep and Queen of Hearts--these episodes cover the race to the portal between Emma&co and Hook/Cora and while they don’t do a ton for CS as a relationship since they’re still enemies at this point, it lays great foundation for their future relationship development. Plus, sexy swordfight, Hook going out of his way to save Aurora’s heart--he may be a pirate, but he has standards ok--and Emma realizing Cora can’t remove her heart without her permission? Poetic Cinema

2x11: The Outsider--more of a Killian-centric episode, it shows a lot of Killian at his worst but it’s necessary for his overall character arc and I genuinely love looking back and seeing just how far he managed to come, to the point of eventually even letting go of his (very understandable) grudge against Rumplestiltskin.

2x12: In the Name of the Brother--am I including this purely for Emma&Hook banter in the hospital, and Killian saying ‘hey beautiful’ when he’s lying on the road because he just got hit by a fucking car? You bet I am. Also, go to youtube and look up ‘ouat season two deleted scene jello’, because it’s beautiful and there was a tremendous outcry in the fandom when we realized it had been cut from the episode lmao (It’s also the episode that made me start shipping Frankenwolf, which I’m still sad never went anywhere, but they had a lot of potential and great chemistry.)

2x22: And Straight On Till Morning--A few of the episodes in between have some fun minor interactions and flashbacks (and I always approve of episodes where Killian gets one up on Rumple, so 2x15 is fun for me if i ignore all the Neal bits) but the finale is where we finally get a glimpse of who Killian could be beyond his need for revenge. He didn’t have to come back, he didn’t have to bring back the bean and help the town--but he did.

Season 3a: there’s a lot of really good stuff here for Hook and Emma that is interwoven between the A plots of other episodes. I think, as far as half-season arcs go, it’s one of the best (and everything after 4a bombed hard, but I digress) But there are a few episodes that stand out if you don’t want to watch the whole season. (I recommend starting with the premier though, it was a really solid season starter overall.)

3x05: Good Form--this is the culmination of David’s poisoned-by-dreamshade arc, and is also Peak Captain Charming Bromance. Hook not only keeping David’s secret, but doing everything he can to help save him??? Poetic cinema. It also provides some crucial Killian backstory, showing how he lost his brother to the very same dreamshade. Plus, the character development--Pan offers Killian a chance to escape the island with Emma if he kills David, and instead, he saves him, refusing the deal and damn the consequences. Also also? The first CS kiss which drove the fandom WILD.

3X06: Ariel--not only to I love OUaT’s take on Ariel, but this episode has the infamous Echo Cave scene, which involves a lot of feelsy confessions and Killian being the one to tell everyone that Neal is alive and helping Emma save him despite his own growing feelings for her.....IT’S JUST A LOT AND I LOVE IT.

3x07: Dark Hallow--oh man, I’d forgotten about this episode, but it has Killian and Neal fighting over Emma, which may sound eye-roll worthy, but Emma is allowed to tear them a new one about it and it’s one of the few times she’s allowed to actually???? put her own feelings first so I have to include it here on spec

3x11 and 3x12: Going Home and New York City Serenade--these mark the end of 3a and start of 3b respectively, and it has some amazing shit like Killian vowing never to forget Emma and Emma smiling as she replies, “Good.” And then she and Henry are in New York with their memories completely altered, but Killian shows up because Storybrooke is back and in jeopardy, and he helps Emma get back to her family and her home and, much later, Emma finds out he sold the Jolly Roger to be able to do it and it’s just. It’s beautiful ok.

3x17: The Jolly Roger--there’s honestly not a whole lot in the back half of season 3 (until the CS movie) but of course anything named for Hook is a must-watch, and this is where we get the iconic line I swear on Emma Swan--which is Killian saying he’s in love with her before he even realizes it. We also find out just what he did to Ariel, and his attempts to make amends are what lead to Zelena being able to curse him, so it’s great from a character perspective as well.

The next four episodes round out the end of the season, and there’s a lot of great stuff in them--Hook refusing to get Emma to kiss him, but Emma feeling like she can’t trust him because he didn’t tell her about the curse to begin with, and then kissing him anyway to save his life regardless of the consequences.... but the only ones that are absolutely necessary are the final two episodes.

They are colloquially termed ‘The Captain Swan Movie’ for a reason, after all.

Killian and Emma essentially have an entire Time Travel adventure all to themselves, where they accidentally ruin her parents first meeting and have to fix it so that she’ll even be born, Emma finally getting into the storybook, the pair of them dancing at a ball, Killian rushing to save Emma only for her to get out of the cell herself, because “The only one who saves me is me.” Killian saying “I would go to the ends of the world for her... or time.” Finally fixing the timeline and making it back to Storybrooke and Killian feeling like he doesn’t deserve a place at the table so he doesn’t go inside, but Emma comes out to him anyway and finds out he gave up the Jolly Roger for her, the true start to their relationship...... IM CRYING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT I’M SORRY.

I personally really enjoyed 4a, the Frozen arc was one of the last good half-season arcs of the show, but a lot of people disliked it so it’s really up to interpretation. I don’t have as many Intense Opinions on this season (except hating almost everything about 4b and the queens of darkness arc), but I will say the episodes with good Killian/CS moments are 4x02 (Emma nearly freezes to death, Killian is desperate to save her, Captain Charming teamwork, my heart hurts), 4x04 (Emma asks Killian out on a real date, he tries to get his real hand back from Gold, things go massively awry and he winds up back under Gold’s thumb), 4x08 (Killian tries to save Emma from Gold’s plans), 4x11 (the 4a finale is just great in general), and then..... it cannot be overstated how much I hate season 4b, but 4x15 is the Killian-centric ep where his past with Ursula is revealed and he makes amends to her in order to get her to leave the QoD alliance and it’s great character stuff for him, and then there’s the season 4 finale.

Both parts are worth watching, if only because Deckhand Coward Hook still being a braver, more heroic man than ‘Hero Rumplestiltskin’ warms the very cockles of my heart, and of course the second part of the finale has him helping Henry to save Emma and it’s beautiful and also Emma watches him die for her and it is angsty as FUCK but gods I love it. Here’s where it gets tricky, though--my recommendation is, turn the episode off right after Emma finds Killian back in the present day of Storybrooke and they reunite.

Just turn off the episode there and skip right ahead to the s6 musical episode (Emma and Killian’s wedding ep) and pretend they got married and none of seasons 5 or 6 ever happened. >.> (Although I will say certain parts of the Underworld arc were incredibly feelsy despite how much I overall hated the season: 5x11 (the 5a finale, Killian as the dark one STILL being a better man than rumple, we love to see it), 5x15 (I am not immune to Brothers Jones feelings ok), 5x20 (emma literally takes a True Love Test trying to find a way to save killian, you don’t get more romantic than that--also Killian telling Emma to promise she won’t put her armor back up just because she lost him again??? my HEART), 5x21 (Hook does what he can from the Underworld anyway and zeus sends him back to Emma, they really just said ‘today I will invent romance’ and then Did That)

And then, yeah, just skip to the wedding. It’s beautiful, I enjoyed the music, personally, though I know musical episodes are hit or miss with most people. And if you turn it off when the last musical number starts (after the wedding ceremony, I believe) you can pretend it was the end of the show! =DDD

.....Oh my god I just rambled for years. I HOPE YOU FIND THIS USEFUL, ANON. I 100% support a CS-centered rewatch, their episodes were consistently some of the best across the entire series, and they are truly one of my favorite romances of all time.

[captain-emmajones]

The Lady of the Lake

Hiii! It's been so long. Hope you are all alright. 

This is based on The Haunting of Bly Manor. Fair warning, it emotionally destroyed me. This is my way of coping. (If you haven't watched it, WATCH IT.) Let me know if you're intrigued and would like to read more of this verse, I might fuck around and actually write a MC ;) 

Big thank you to @carpedzem for her feedback (and fair amount of screaming let’s not kid ourselves)!!! <3 

Happy Halloween!! 

Summary: Ghost!Emma haunts Mills Manor, and Killian only wishes she would haunt him instead.

Ghost AU - Angst - 1400 words - Ao3 

Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies  out of the lake,

and dress them in warm clothes again.

Richard Siken.

.

And each night, tirelessly, endlessly, she would wake.

She would walk.

She would sleep.

And she would forget.

Until, until...

Time erased everything. Time erased her memories, erased him, erased the very chore of her existence, but she no longer was, so how could she have mind?

She let herself sink into oblivion, because it meant he was safe. They were all safe.

She let water fill her lungs, she let the lake wrap its ice-cold arms around her and for a time she wished they were his, for a time she did not forget until,... until she forgot.

And each night, again and again, she would wake.

She would walk.

She would sleep.

And she would forget.

Until there wasn’t anything else to forget, until she wasn’t a person anymore -- surely a person would have a face -- until she was only a vague feeling, a fleeting, dripping shadow, walking through the night, muddy footprints dropped behind her, and water, so much water, wishing that something would happen -- only it never would.

But she didn’t mind. She had forgotten she was waiting. She just stood there, by his workshop, without seeing the empty pots, without hearing the night’s owls, until her stiff, dripping legs moved again.

And she would dive into the frozen, frozen lake, and she would forget. Forget it all. Forget them and the why and the how.

And she would wake. She would walk.

Up to the same room, every night, to the bed without sheets and the mirror -- and for a time she did not forget how frightened she was, of this goddamn mirror, of her reflection, of seeing him and then her -- and this room that was so empty, so empty and she wondered if it had always been. But soon enough, she ceased wondering. She forgot to.

And she would go down the corridor, through the garden, to the moon flowers.

And she would stand there until some kind of recollection would sink into her mind. Her eyes would widen. And then, she would remember. It would be a wave of warmth suddenly overflowing her.

His blue eyes. The warmth of his arms. His voice. She would remember --

“And if you can’t feel anything, then I will feel for the both of us.”

-- and then, just like that, she would forget. Endlessly. Tirelessly.

“Because see, Swan, moonflowers only bloom once. And then they die. But they are worth the trouble. And sometimes, if you are lucky enough, you find someone worth the trouble, too.”

.

And each night, tirelessly, endlessly, he would fill his sinks with water, would fill his bathtub to the brim, would crack his front door open.

So that she would know that it was okay for her to step in, that he wouldn’t mind the muddy trails and the drenched carpets, so that she would know that he was waiting for her.

“It’s just water, love. It’s easy to clean up.”

And he would sleep, crouched on a chair, in front of his door, just in case, just in case--

He would sleep.

And he would forget.

That she was gone. That she wouldn’t come back, ever. That their love story was nothing more than a ghost story now --

And he would wake. And he would remember. And he would walk, among the livings, only he died when she surrendered herself to the lake.

-- oh, cross that actually. That’s utterly wrong. Those are sadness and anger and grief speaking.

Of course their love story was more than a simple ghost story.

He just wished...He just wished she had taken him down with her.

Down in the lake.

Just wished she had offered him this last cold embrace, just wished she had allowed him to rest by her side.

He didn’t mind the cold.

So long as her hand remained firmly clasped in his. As it had been. As it should be.

Only it wasn’t anymore.

One morning, one fine morning, he had woken up. But she had already walked, she had already walked out of their room, out of his life.

She had only written him a note.

And she had walked, she had walked without him, to the lake, and he had imagined her hair floating in the water, golden threads dancing amidst a grey pool, he had imagined her lungs filling with water, as she had surrendered herself, as she had saved them all.

And he had known, that it was all over, all over, that she was gone.

“The beast lives in me, Killian,” she had said, at the beginning, only it was the end, “and she will come to fetch me. I know it. I can feel her inside of me.”

And he had wanted to promise her that they had time, more time, and he had said: “One day at a time, my love. We will fight the beast together. But for now, we have today.” And he had squeezed her hand thinking perhaps he could hold onto her.

And she had smiled, and he had known that when the time came, she would fight the beast alone.

She wouldn’t drag him down with her, no matter how loudly he would scream, no matter how long he would weep for her to come back, she would do what was right.  

“I cannot risk losing you, Killian. I cannot lose you.”

Thus, after all these years, he had driven back to Mills Manor, to this cursed place, and he had walked back to the lake. To see her. One last time.

He had plunged, dived, rushed to her, as the cold had bitten his skin and slashed his heart open. Wishing he could walk with her, wishing he could sleep, wishing he could forget.

“You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, do you, Swan?”

“IT’S ME. IT’S YOU. IT’S US,” he had screamed, down in the lake, water filling his lungs and burning his eyes, only he wasn’t screaming because how could you scream with this much water in your mouth?

He had screamed the same words he had heard her howl, years ago, when she had saved them all.

When she had taken the beast inside of her.

But this time she was the beast and he couldn’t take her in. She wouldn’t let him.  

“DRAG ME DOWN WITH YOU,” he had yelled some more, only in his heart, on seeing nothing, on seeing her pale, pale, moon face, down in the lake.

Her hair was spiraling around her peaceful features, just like he had imagined it would. She was still her. Her eyes were open, but she wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t move an inch.

And in that gesture she wouldn’t initiate, in the fingers she did not stretch to hold his hand, he knew.

That she wouldn’t drag him down. That she would never drag him down. Not now, not ever.

The lady of the lake would never drag anyone down with her again.

But that doesn’t mean he stopped waiting for her. Doesn’t mean he stopped filling his sinks and his bathtub and quit searching for her smiling eyes in the quivering water, for a sparkle of green and gold, doesn’t mean he closed his door and went to bed.

No.

He sat on that very same chair, in front of his open door, and he waited.

And just as his eyelids became too heavy for him to keep his eyes open, just as he fell into a deep slumber, there was a cold draught that gently shut his door.

His eyes flickered open at the noise, for one second, could it be…

But then Morpheus’ arms hugged him tighter and there wasn’t an inch of willpower left in him to wonder.

Still, a small unconscious smile stretched his lips and a whisper escaped his mouth.

“Swan…”

Silence. He was now sound asleep.

And if you were to gaze into his window, innocently of course, as every good neighbor does at midnight when the moon is their only companion, well perhaps you’d see the blonde woman that tucked a blanket under his chin and kissed his forehead, and you’d think that was quite odd -- considering Killian Jones lived alone -- but then you’d shake your head and stopped thinking about it at all.

And you’d blink back to see nothing but darkness in your neighbor’s flat, although you could have sworn there had been a humming light just a second ago, darkness everywhere, and perhaps a shiver would even shake your spine, and in another blink you’d think you saw a smiling face in the window pane, green eyes and blonde hair but it couldn’t be so you stopped thinking about it and you stopped looking into other people’s windows -- because that was actually quite rude, now, wasn’t it?

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 8/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Or on FF

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

Chapter 8: Confrontation

“Just give it to me straight, Ruby, don’t go making up tales now.” The dark-haired woman chuckled defiantly from her spot on the bed in the corner of the room, the plastic walls separating her from the rest of the occupants in the room.

“It’s not good, Mum.” Ruby said softly. “It started spreading the moment it got in your blood stream. The doctors said it matches the data they have on file for J2.”

“So that’s it then.” The woman nodded resolutely before turning her attention to Emma. “Did the message make it to Merlin?”

Emma bit her lip, and her eyes met his for a moment before turning back to Mary Margaret. “Not all of it.”

“Enough?”

Emma shook her head. “I think so, I don’t know.”

“Where’s Will?”

Killian took Emma’s hand when he heard her loud exhale, knowing that the tears would be coming shortly after. “He’s next door. He uh…” She sniffled and the woman sat up in her bed.

“J2.” Ruby responded softly.

“Dammit.” The demure woman cursed. Killian sighed and pulled Emma against his chest. “So, what’s next?”

“Mum, you need to rest.” Ruby demanded.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, Red. You know I don’t rest.”

“I contacted David.” Killian said suddenly, causing all the eyes in the room to turn toward him.

“What?” Emma asked horrified. “Why would you do that?”

Killian gestured toward the woman in the bed. “It’s his wife, he deserves to know.”

“Killian.” Mary Margaret spoke softly. “Did he…did he say anything?”

“He’s confused, doesn’t understand why you were there. I didn’t tell him much, just not to trust Regina, things aren’t what they seem, J2.” He added quietly at the end.

“He must be so angry.”

“He’s a good cop, if I know David, he’ll do some digging, figure things out.”

“You could have put him in danger.” Ruby exclaimed.

“Compared to what? We aren’t exactly on vacation here, love! We need help on the outside, Dave’s a good man.”

“He’s right. My husband followed the Mayor’s lead because he believed in what she was doing, but things have changed, she’s not who he thought she was, he’ll follow the leads, do what he thinks is right.”

In his pocket, his communicator beeped. Killian held up his hand and pulled it from his jacket. “We need to talk.” David’s voice boomed in his ear. “Now.”

“Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.” He said light heartedly, hoping to set the man at ease.

“You aren’t listening to me. We need to meet. I want to see my wife; I have information you all need to see.”

“I can come to you…”

“No, no deals. I come to you.” He demanded and Killian sent a worrying glance in the woman’s direction as she stared at him in the bed.

Covering the device with his hand he talked softly. “He wants to come here; says he has information we need to hear.”

“No way, it’s a trap, he’s not just going to walk in here, no questions asked.”

“He’s worried about his wife.” Killian said honestly in response to Ruby.

“Go get him, follow our protocols.” Mary Margaret demanded of the dark-haired woman who opened her mouth to protest and then stormed out of the room.

“We’re sending one of ours to the wall. Meet her there and follow her rules or else you don’t come, Mate.”

“Fine.” He paused. “Can you tell my wife…” Killian glanced at the woman on the bed, her face pale. “Tell her that I love her.”

“Aye, Mate.” The line went dead. “He’ll meet her at the wall.”

“Thank you.” She said with a nod.

“He said to tell you that he loves you.” The woman smiled sadly as Killian took his leave from the room, Emma following him closely behind. The moment she stepped from the room; she entered the one directly beside it that held the critically ill, Will Scarlet. She nodded to him, and he watched as she closed the door behind her. He wasn’t sure how they were going to get through all of this, he only hoped that whatever David needed to speak to them about didn’t bring about more sorrow and despair.

~*~

“There’s my girl.” Will said weakly when she entered the room.

“Hey.” Emma breathed nervously. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed and injected with a plague there’s no cure for.”

Emma frowned in anger. “That’s not funny.”

He coughed. “I ‘spose not, but what else you gonna do?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me, don’t even try to deny it.”

“What are we going to do?” She cried.

“Don’t cry Emmie.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“Oi, I’m too cranky to die, I’m gonna be around long enough to embarrass Henry when he dates his first lass, or watch you marry that gent out there that can’t keep his bloody hands off ya.” Emma couldn’t stop her laughter no matter how much she just wanted to cry. “So, what’s the plan?” He asked, as she sat down in the chair across the room.

“Ruby left to bring David here, he says he has something we need to see; I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like it’s a trap, but Killian trusts him.”

“Not like we have any other brilliant plans, eh. I guess we work with what we got.” He coughed again, blood forming at the ends of his mouth as he wiped it away with his hand. “Hey, I’m fine. Really.” He tried to reassure her.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” She teased as the door beside her opened and Killian stepped into the room, announcing David’s arrival.

“Good, give ‘er someone else to harass.” Will joked as she stood from her seat.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised, trying to smile as she left the room. When the door shut, Killian stopped her by placing a hand on her forearm.

“Are you alright love?”

“Of course, I’m not. My best friend is dying, I have no idea if the message I sent reached Merlin, if all of this has been for nothing, and I am honestly running out of reasons to have even a sliver of hope.” His finger brushed against her forehead, the tickle of her hair tingling against her skin.

“If the message didn’t go through, we’ll find another way,” He laced her fingers with hers, “together. But you don’t give up, not my Emma.”

A warm feeling filled her heart as his blue eyes stared back at her. She wanted to curl into his arms and believe that there was still a chance for them to win, but knowing Will was laying behind the door, dying a slow painful death, overtook any feelings of hope that tried to grow roots within her.

Killian wrapped her in his arms, and Emma melted against him, enjoying the moment of stillness and peace they had been afforded. On the other end of the hall, she heard a commotion and the sea of people parted as Ruby waked through the center. Emma withdrew from Killian and motioned to the end of the hall.

David strode toward them, a look of apprehension in his eyes as he settled them on Killian. “Where’s my wife?” He demanded as he reached them.

Killian and Emma exchanged a glance. “We need to talk, Mate.”

“I’ll talk after you take me to my wife.”

“Aye, this way.” He turned and opened the door, leading David into the room that housed Mary Margaret.

Emma stood at the back of the room as the man hesitantly approached his wife, a look of fear in his eyes. “Why would you do this?” His voice was shaking as he spoke.

“David…” She paused, as if she were rethinking her response. “I did what I thought was right.”

He hung his head. “Perhaps you were right.” He turned and looked at Killian. “I had questions.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a folder. “Things weren’t making sense. So, I did some digging.”

“Gold?”

“I followed the money. It all leads back to him, all the transactions into the Mayor’s office, research money for the Gold Collective, military operations. Money that shouldn’t be there, man.”

Killian glanced at Emma. “It’s all Hive.”

“That’s not all I found.” He almost whispered. “I saw the message to Merlin.” He turned and looked at Emma. “Of course, I had to do a search on Emma Swan. Grew up outside the walls of Storybrooke, came to town at age 14, lived on the streets for a few years until you found your payday in Neal Cassidy.”

Emma grunted. “Trust me, I didn’t want his money.”

“Did he know about your run in with J2?” Everyone turned and looked at her.

“No. His father was so interested in testing people, his search for answers seemed to have nothing to do with wanting to help people. I couldn’t trust anyone.”

“When did you know you were sick?” David asked.

“I got sick when I was 16, I had a place on the docks where others gathered at night to stay warm. A few of them got sick that winter, they didn’t last more than a few days before they were pulled from the streets, their bodies drained of life. When the fever came, I resigned myself to death. I got picked up in a sweep, they took me to a hospital for treatment. But after a few days I got better. The doctors started asking questions, I got nervous, so I ran.”

“Your blood work is in the system.” David said, opening the folder in his hands. “It was housed in one of Regina’s databases, looks like Gold flagged the information about 4 months ago.”

“That was right after I took off.”

“That’s not all they found. See I thought finding someone who had survived J2, a plague with zero cure, was a miracle, but imagine my surprise when I found you aren’t the only one.”

Emma shook her head. “There’s someone else who survived?”

David looked at Killian. “Did you know?”

“Know what, Mate?”

David handed him the folder and Killian stared at the pages in front of him. He flipped the page in his hand, his eyes wide. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“Medical records.” David answered. “Killian’s medical records, to be more specific. His bloodwork shows he had J2.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, the only time I’ve ever even been sick was when I was young. That was years before the plague.”

David turned back toward his wife, “Don’t you get it. They both carry the gene that can fight off J2.”

“What good does that do?” Killian asked.

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. Maybe they can use your blood somehow to save my wife, to save everyone.” He turned back to her, a look of desperation on his face. “Maybe if we take your blood and Killian’s blood, maybe together, together it means something.”

She paused, staring at the man in front of her and then looking at Killian. “Henry.” She said suddenly.

“He’s sleeping, love.” Killian responded.

“No, Henry is the key.” She rushed to the door and then turned back to look at Killian. “I know I said we needed to talk, and this is really not the way I wanted to do this, but…” He narrowed his eyes. “Henry isn’t Neal’s. He’s yours.” She blurted out.

“What?”

“I…I didn’t know, not until he was born. I thought he was Neal’s. We had been apart for a month when I found out, but I was so stressed out, I wasn’t thinking. When he came early, I thought it was because of the stress, but then I held him, and he opened those beautiful blue eyes, and I knew, I knew he was yours.”

“Henry’s my son?” His voice cracked and tears sprung in her eyes, she stepped back toward him and pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Henry has your blood and mine. What if…” His eyes sparkled as he stared at her. “What if he has been the answer this whole time?”

Suddenly Killian’s entire face crumbled in anger, he reached forward and grabbed Emma, pulling her toward him as she tried to understand what was happening. Then she heard a voice that made her entire body tense.

“Hello, dearie.”

~*~

Killian didn’t have a moment to deconstruct the information he had learned from Emma before Gold and his son appeared in the open door. Killian had only seconds to react, pulling Emma toward him, protecting her from the man who had caused all of her fear.

“And where is that grandson of mine?”

“You stay the hell away from him.” Emma yelled and Neal stepped toward her.

“You took him away from me.” He reached out, touching her hair as she slapped his hand away from her face. Before he could react, Neal’s fist had drawn back and made contact with Emma’s cheek. Killian stepped forward, grabbing Neal by the collar, and yanking him toward him. The man cowered for a moment before Killian heard the click of a gun and Emma’s shrill. Killian could see Gold standing next to Emma, a gun to her head. He released Neal reluctantly, holding his hands in front of him.

“Just saying, a gentleman never strikes a lady, perhaps you should have raised him with better manners.” He said with a shrug, looking over at Neal with disdain.

“Children have always been such a disappointment.” The man growled and Neal stumbled backward to step away from the group. “So, let’s change that today. Where’s the boy?” Killian glared at the man, no one in the room saying a word. “Regina.” He called out and the woman appeared in the doorway. “Bring me the brat.”

Emma shrilled as the woman left the room, setting off to search for their son.

Their son.

His son.

He had a son with Emma. He couldn’t think about that right now, right now they just needed to survive.

He caught David’s eye as the man stood on the other side of the room. Nodding his head, he stepped closer to the door as David reached behind himself, pulling the gun he always kept at his back. Things moved suddenly the moment the gun came into view. Gold twisted quickly and Emma used her shoulder to shove the older man to the ground at the exact moment that Killian rushed Neal.

The two men crashed through the open-door frame into the hallway. Killian used the man’s surprise to his advantage, punching him square in the nose before he could get his bearings.

“Killian…” He looked up to see Ruby at the other end of the hall.

“Save Henry.” He screamed, continuing his assault against the man on the ground in front of him. Ruby ran down the hall toward the rooms where Henry was sleeping. Neal watched as she ran, a sudden kick to the side causing him to lose his balance as Neal scrambled away from him.

Killian took one look into the room, watching Emma rushing at Gold, as David was shoved into the wall. He had to trust that they would be ok, he needed to get to Henry before Neal. Standing up he gave chase after the man as he ran in the direction that Ruby had disappeared.

When he reached Henry’s room, the door was open. Ducking into the room, he rushed to the bed to find it empty. Turning around he saw Ruby laying on the ground behind the door. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted her off the ground as her eyes flew open. “Henry.” She exhaled.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Neal…he took him.” Killian leaned her against the wall. “Go, I’m fine. I’m right behind you.”

Killian rushed back into the hall, looking up and down to determine which way Neal would have gone. He heard a clattering at one end of the hall and ran quickly after it. He pushed through the door of the stairwell and began climbing, praying with each step that he would find his son at the top.

When he breached the door, the light flooded his eyes as he rushed into the room, the water swirling through the boat dock. He spotted movement near the boat and yelled.

“Neal.”

The man stilled his movement, spinning around with the boy in his arms.

~*~

The cane came crashing down against her arm and Emma grabbed ahold of the wooden stick, yanking it forward as the man tumbled to the ground beside her. Emma took advantage of his imbalance and climbed onto his chest, holding the wooden cane against his neck, pressing it harder as the man struggled to breathe.

“Emma.” David sent her a warning from his spot on the floor on the other side of the room as he recovered from his previous entanglement with Gold.

“He can’t live.” She cried. “He’s too dangerous.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “That’s not for us to decide.”

Emma slowed her breathing, trying to rationalize the need to remove Gold from the playing field with her need to make him pay for everything he had caused.

“He’s not worth it, Emma.” David warned softly beside her.

“He’s dangerous.” She cried, watching as the man’s eyes widened in fear below her.

“Your son needs you.” Emma flinched, relaxing her grip on the cane as the man slowly lost consciousness. She threw the cane to the ground, falling back against the wall beside her.

“Go.” She said turning toward him. “Go find Killian and Henry.”

The man nodded, turned toward his wife, and then left the room.

“All of this, because of one man.” Mary Margaret said from her bed. “Because of greed.” She said angrily.

“I’m so sorry.” Emma said as the tears fell from her face. “You don’t deserve to die.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I have faith and so should you.”

“How can you be so positive at a time like this.” She said with a laugh, wiping her face with her hands.

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t feel like giving up just yet.”

Emma smiled, she appreciated the optimism of the woman, even if she didn’t share it. Suddenly the wind was knocked out of her, a blinding pain hitting her like a lightning bolt against her back. Before she could react she was lying face down on the cold cement, a foot pressing against her head.

“Neal said you were smart, but I think he was just blinded by a pretty face. That boy of mine is not a good judge of character.”

Emma gulped for air, choking in muffled gasps. She swung her arms, trying to grasp the man behind her, if she could just get ahold of a leg of his pants, or even a shoe. Her vision was blurring, sparkles of light flashing behind her eyes as she began to lose her fight to breathe. Her hand dropped to the ground beside her, a crashing sound vibrating in her ears.

Suddenly her airway opened, she choked, sucking in breath as her lungs filled with air. Beside her a wooden cane with a brass top fell to the ground. Emma rolled onto her back, looking up at the silhouette above her, she blinked her eyes, trying to focus as a hand was extended to her.

“I’m up here doing all this work while you take a nap, eh?”

Emma grabbed Will’s hand and pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re supposed to be resting.” She said with a laugh.

“And miss all the bloody fun?” Will teased before coughing. “Now go.” He gestured to the open door.

“I can’t leave him.”

“I think Mum and I can keep an eye on him while you save the world this time.”

“We’re going to fix this.” Emma said, looking between Mary Margaret and Will.

“Go Emma, find your boy.” The woman demanded and Emma ran out the door.

~*~

Killian stared nervously at Neal as he dangled Henry over the water. “Put the kid down, Mate. He’s innocent. You want to hurt someone, come at me.”

“You know I tried to do this the easy way, all you had to do was go on with your new life. But you just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Henry’s face was red, the loud cries echoing in the hollow corners of the room. “Come on Neal.”

“Don’t!” He shouted. “You took everything away from me. Emma. My kid…”

“He was never yours to begin with.” Killian growled, which caused the man to twitch angrily, and Killian immediately regretted taunting him. “Please.” His voice cracked. “Just don’t hurt him.” He begged.

There was a loud crash behind him, causing Neal to step backwards closer to the water. Killian kept his eyes on the small bundle in the man’s arms, desperate to reach the child and pull him to safety. Suddenly Regina crashed through the crates behind him, landing on her back on the ground. David came rushing out after her, diving against the crumbled form.

Killian used the distraction to rush toward Neal who looked up right before he reached him. A smile grew on his face as he dangled the boy over the water, a menacing look on his face. Killian’s heart raced as his feet tripped closer to the man just as he released the boy into the dark waters below them.

“No!” Killian screamed as the bundled child fell into the icy water and sunk below the surface. He didn’t stop as he rushed past Neal, pushing him away from the edge and diving headfirst into the murky depths below.

[wellhellotragic]

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 2/3

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself.  It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: No, you’re not crazy. The chapter count grew a little. My sincerest apologies guys (especially to @searchingwardrobes​.) I have a lot of stuff going on in my personal life that’s taken most of my attention. I really didn’t mean for this next part to be so delayed, and honestly, time has become an illusion at this point and I didn’t even realize that 6 weeks had passed. I was thinking closer to 3, so thank you for staying with me on this little journey, and hope you enjoy.

If AO3 is more your jam...

His jaw is killing him and he’s realized all too late that it was a mistake not taking the ice from Emma. But he couldn’t. He can’t have anything to do with her. He can’t even look at her. It’s just too damn painful in every way fathomable.

Sometimes, his heart aches to be near her, to see her smile and pretend for just a moment that it’s before. That everything is still fine and that they’re going to meet up for drinks later. To imagine that they’ll go back to one of their apartments and put on a movie. That she’ll fall asleep on his shoulder and he’ll move so that they’re spooning each other on the couch. It’s on those days he turns to the bottle.

Other days, the very thought of her sends him into a rage and it’s all he can do not to throw her desk out of the bullpen. He never should have agreed to take the Captain’s position. He should have gone back to the narcotics division, far away from her and the ghost of Liam imprinted into the very fabric of his chair.

He shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

He shouldn’t have gone to the Salty Winch tonight. He knew that it was her birthday, try as hard as he might to forget. And he wasn’t planning on going. But something in his subconscious had him driving there against his own better judgement. He was just going to peer in through the window, just go get a look. To see if she was happy.

And now he’s got a bruise on his face, he’s down a detective, and he’s going to have to call a cab in the morning to take him back to the pub to pick up his car.

He’s also got a text message from Archie telling him he wants to see him tomorrow before lunch.

He goes to bed, but sleep doesn’t come until hours later.

The next morning is a disaster. There’s two empty desks instead of one, paper work is piling up. Everyone is tiptoeing around him and he can see them watching him out of the corner of his eye. He can hear their hushed whispers, and as much as he doesn’t want to have to schlep all the way down to headquarters, he needs the retreat from being the star of his own tragedy.

Archie’s office is on the third floor, and it isn’t lost on him how many offices he has to pass on the way to what should be a private visit. But then again, nothing about his life has been private lately. He knows that everyone still talks about it. For weeks his portrait graced the cover of every newspaper in town, sometimes next to Liam’s departmental photo. The news was there that night to film him being carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. His name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue as the investigation and trial drug on.

His detectives don’t trust him, and he knows it’s a problem, as well that he should care, but most days he just can’t find it within himself to give a damn. He buries it all as deeply within himself as possible, just going through the motions. He’s gotten pretty good at ignoring the ways he feels, most times, but Archie is going to want to drag it all up again, especially after last night.

The office has been redecorated since the last time he was there for his psych evaluation and mandated therapy to determine if he was capable of returning to work. There are more plants in every corner of the room. No doubt the cricket’s way of cheering everyone up while he chirps in their ears. Not that he has anything against Dr. Hopper. The man may very well be the only reason Killian is even still human at this point.

“Killian, thank you for coming. Why don’t you have a seat?” He doesn’t want to, the black leather is worn and cracked in places, pinching the back of his legs even through his thick cotton pants.

The man just watches him, waiting to see if he’ll open up, to make the first move, but Killian’s never been much for spilling his guts. He’s not sure talking would even help at this point. Everything has become so twisted that no emotional epiphanies can untangle his problems anymore.

“So, I think you know why I wanted to see you.”

“Aye.”

“My next appointment called in sick so I have all day to wait for you to say something.

Killian sighs, ready to give in to the inevitable, although he’s not completely sure which part of it Archie wants to get into, and he’s treading water trying to keep as much of his life off limits as possible.

“There’s nothing to say really. One of my detectives was drunk, mouthed off, and hit me. His suspension was well earned. I’m not sure there’s anything more to it.”

Archie watches him for a second, tilting his head as he listens to Killian, and before he even opens his mouth, he knows that the cricket chirping in his ear is about to dissect the evening.

“Killian, I think there’s a lot more to it. Clearly there’s been some resentment and animosity building between the two of you for some time more, or August wouldn’t have brought it up.”

He hates this, the way Dr. Hopper is always trying to poke his way through Killian’s brain, trying to unlock doors with a metaphorical paperclip. A one size fits all therapy tool that with enough finesse can open everything he’s trying to hold back.

“I’ll admit, there’s no love lost between the two of us. We’ve never gotten along, even before. But August has never been one to make smart well thought out choices and last night was just another in a long line of mistakes he’s made.”

“Long line, or tipping point?” This isn’t going to work. He isn’t going to let Archie trip him up. He’s not leaving anymore crumbs to follow. “I know you don’t want to discuss this again, but I can’t help but think all of this stems from your relationship with Emma.”

“I don’t have a relationship with Emma.” He doesn’t mean to spit out the words as harshly as he does, it’s just a gut reaction and it’s too late to play it off. “She’s my subordinate, that’s it.”

“You mean she was your subordinate.”

It pisses him off more than he expects, partly because somehow this man miles away already knows that Emma has transferred when he only found out himself a few hours before, but also because it brings up emotions he doesn’t know how to handle.

“Aye.” All he can do is nod and clinch his jaw, which in turn reminds him of the punch he took last night. He’d give almost anything for some Motrin right now. Better yet, some morphine so he can fall into a sleep where none of this is real.

He’s not really sure what’s happening. He knows he’s in the hospital. He can surmise as much by the beeping machines and the blood pressure cuff that’s about to sever his arm clean off. But his eyes are too heavy to open just now, and he doesn’t remember coming to the hospital. He can’t remember why he’s here.

Until he tries to move, twisting his torso just enough that pain shoots clear up to his eyeballs and he screams out in pain without even realizing it.

There’s a nurse in the room, telling him to relax, and he thinks he hears another voice from the other side of the room, but now his arm is cold and he doesn’t even have time to think before the world goes dark again.

His mouth is dry. He tries to open his lips, but they’ve melding together and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. His body feels so weak and heavy, and it’s a struggle to speak, but even with just a slight moan, he feels his hand squeezed and he knows it’s her just by the way she fits with him. The bed shifts and he hears something new in her voice. She’s timid, like maybe if she speaks too loudly he’ll blow away in the wind. And to be honest, at this point, he very well may.

He forces his eyes open, blinking as much as he can to clear his vision. She’s standing at his side in a Boston PD sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big - pilfered from his closet after a night off of bar hopping turned into a movie at his place - and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. It might very well be any other Saturday morning, except for her face. It’s puffy and red and she’s clearly been crying.

Emma Swan doesn’t cry. Ever.

He should be worried about himself, but in that moment, he can only think of her and how miserable she looks.

But then the blood pressure cuff goes off again, reminding him of where he is, and everything comes rushing back. The fight with Liam, the sound of shots ringing out, Emma begging him not to die. He told her he loved her, and he’s angry with himself for waiting so long. It shouldn’t have been a death bed confession. He shouldn’t have put so much stock in Liam’s approval.

Liam.

Liam.

Liam.

He barely gets his brother’s name out before he sees more tears running down her face, and she’s apologizing over and over again. There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s somehow her fault, like she was the one that fired the fatal shot. The pain returns and so does the morphine.

He wakes again, groggy and weak. His eyes are too heavy to open, but perhaps that’s better. Maybe if he can’t see the world around him, he won’t have to face everything to come. Liam’s always been there, even when everyone left, Liam stayed. He doesn’t know how to continue on in a world without him. He doesn’t know how to do anything now and all he can think about is how it should have been him. How he started the argument, he distracted Liam. How he was the one that raised his voice and alerted the killer to their presence.

He’s in the middle of his downward spiral of self loathing when he hears muffled voices come closer, likely entering his room from the hallway. They speak in hushed whispers as they move around the room, flittering about all around him, lifting his blanket and touching his feet, fumbling with his hand. He still can’t muster the strength to open his eyes, much less his mouth to tell them to leave, so they continue, completely unaware of the way he hears them. Unaware of how they are turning his life upside down.

“Why does this guy look so familiar?”

“Oh, you mean other than the fact that his face is all over the television?”

It’s silent for a bit, and he thinks that maybe they’ve gone finally, but then he hears a tapping noise, like fingers angrily hitting letters on a keyboard.

“It’s really sad actually. Remember Astrid down in the ER?” She waits for the other voice to agree before continuing. “I had lunch with her today and she was telling me how our guy here is cop. Came in with gunshot wounds, along with his brother. They were both in really bad shape. Whale was able to save this one but the brother was too far gone.”

It’s the first time he’s heard the words spoken allowed, and although intrinsically, he knew that Liam was gone, the words are a nail to a coffin.

The voice continues, telling the other one how they were both in shock, having lost so much blood, giving vivid details that tear at him to his very core, but it’s the end of the story that he latches to.

“So there’s nothing they could have done then?”

“I guess we’ll never know. I mean, by the time the ambulance brought him in, he was already gone, but from what Astrid overheard, I guess their back up got there late. One of them ran after the shooter and the other stayed to help and couldn’t save them both.”

“Damn, I can't even imagine. This guy is gonna have some hell of survivor's guilt.”

But it wasn’t guilt that overcame him that night. Instead, it was rage that crept in, filling the hole in his heart.

“So you still blame Emma then?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look up from the mark of the coffee table in front of him that he’s been starting at for the last few minutes.

“Killian, the mind is a tricky thing. You were still in shock, heavily medicated, and mourning. Is it possible that maybe you somehow misunderstood what the nurses said that night?”

That has his attention, and not in a good way.

“Are you insinuating that I’m a liar?” He leans forward, voice steady, focused on Dr. Hopper and the way he’s now squirming in his chair. “Or do you simply believe that I’m just crazy?”

He’s off the couch, steady quick strides for the door. He’s had enough judgment for the day, and needs to leave before he crams Archie’s notebook down his throat.

“That’s - Killian! That’s not what I meant.”

He’s halfway out the door, but something in the man’s tremble gives him pause.

“I- I just. I spoke to Emma, to August too, after it happened. I just mean that maybe you all have different accounts of what happened that night, and until you sit down and finally clear the air, none of you will be able to heal.”

That has him barking out a laugh. The very idea of either of them being able to make anything right at this point? It’s absurd.

Two weeks pass without much fanfare. August’s desk still sits empty, a magnet for other detective’s paperwork piles, but the seat stays cold. Emma’s desk on the other hand is now occupied by a short stodgy old bald man who seems to be compensating for his hair loss with a long salt and pepper beard that covers half of his face. The man has been nothing but surely since his arrival the week before. He’s managed to piss off most of Killian’s bullpen, and it’s almost laughable how quickly his life has gone totally shits-up on him, but then he remembers that Leroy is going to be August’s partner when he comes back and that’s almost enough to satiate Killian’s frustration.

Almost.

Because August isn’t coming back, at least not to his division. There’s an opening in Narcotics, Killian’s old team, and while is not a transfer Killian would ever normally agree to, it's not a typical assignment. Despite his reservations, he knows August is good as his job and the best fit.

That’s the only reason he finds himself walking back into the Salty Winch at 10:29 on a Tuesday morning. August isn’t there yet, which doesn’t surprise him in the least. The truth is, he doesn’t honestly even know if the man will show at all, never having responded to his message.

It’s odd being back in that building, the incident from a few weeks ago notwithstanding. The derelict bar has always been special to him in a way he can’t explain, like an extension of himself. Liam brought him there after his first collar, saying a celebration was in order, and that one night somehow became a long standing tradition. Looking at the scuff marks near the well, he remembers Ruby’s attempts at clogging in 6 inch stilettos and the pub owner nearly crying at the sight of his ruined wood floors. He remembers Lance throwing up in the peanut bucket at the end of the bartop at his bachelors party.

But taking a seat in the booth in the back right corner, all he can see is her face the night they met.

It’s been a damn good day, and each sip of the rum in his glass dances it’s way down his throat, warming him on the way down. He’s buzzed to be certain, but hasn’t had nearly enough to be drunk, and Will intends to remedy that as soon as possible if the third round he just ordered is any indication.

They’d been after a small time dealer for months, and on the day they finally go to bust the guy, they somehow luck into nabbing one of the largest suppliers in the city by sheer dumb luck. But no one needs to know that. Not when he and Scarlett have just received public commendations from the commissioner himself. Not when he’s wearing his medal on his shirt like a goddamn first place science fair ribbon. Not when his name is being floated around as someone to keep an eye on.

And sure as hell not when the most gorgeous creature he’s ever laid eyes on has just walked into his pub and sat herself four bar stools over. To say that he’s gobsmacked is an understatement. It’s dark, but even in the dim pendant lit room he catches a glimpse of her eyes. They’re emeralds, sparkling as the light from a glass bottle being poured reflects in them.

He’s so infatuated with this woman in her tight red leather dress that he’s apparently missed an entire conversation, only his name on repeat is enough to pull his attention back to his mates.

“Oh bloody hell, I think we lost ‘em boys.”

There’s a heat overcoming his face and he’s not quite sure why. He’s left with many a fine lass from this very bar on other, much less eventful nights. His boys are no strangers to the effect he has on women, but perhaps this time it has something to do with the effect she’s having on him. This enchantress that’s beguiling him.

Perhaps the last shot was a mistake.

After some merciless teasing he’s out of his seat, making his way to the empty spot on the other side of her. He waits for a second, casually watching her send an email from the corner of his eye before making his move yelling out to the bartender.

“Robin, can I get my tab? I need to head across the street and file a complaint.”

She’s startled, her eyes flitting between him, the bartender, and her phone.

“Oh, what for?” Robin walks over with a towel and glass in hand, and a coy grin on his face. This may or may not be the first time he’s used this ruse before.

“Well, this woman here has just stole me beating heart right from my chest.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, and while it may not be the first time he’s used the line, it’s certainly the first time it’s ever not been reciprocated.

“Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work on girls.”

He can’t help but smile despite how epically he’s failed. And while she’s clearly not amiable to going back to his place with him tonight, she doesn’t outright reject his offer to buy her drink, or even a second one after that.

Somehow the two of them move to the booth in the back. He learns that she’s from the 42nd, a vice cop just coming from her last shift. The red leather dress is a departing gift of sorts from her supervisor, by way of a prostitution sting. She’s transferring to his precinct tomorrow and just wanted to come get a feel for the area before her first day.

They talk until the bar closes somehow, and when her cab pulls up, he takes his shot one more time. This time she laughs him off and tells him she’ll see him tomorrow. He gets his own cab, and even though he’s going home alone tonight, he’s still got a shit eating grin on his face when he walks through his apartment door, her laugh echoing through his head like music.

August arrives in true fashion, twenty minutes late, and Killian isn’t sure if the man is just being disrespectful or trying to somehow create an illusion of control over the situation. Either way, he’s not happy, although he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to himself that he’s happy that the man won’t be around for a while.

Boothe has always rubbed him the wrong way. Even before Emma, August had a way of pissing him off, always shooting off his mouth and trying to one up him. In truth, his annoyance turned to hatred when he learned of how close the man was with Emma. They had inside jokes and secret looks, and Killian always felt like an outsider. Eventually he learned that August was practically Emma’s brother, having been raised together in the foster system, but hearing of how Boothe was the one that introduced Emma to her first love, and man that led her down a path of petty crime, it only solidified in Killian’s mind that August Boothe is an arse of a man with no redeeming qualities.

Which is also the exact thing that he needs right now. The two of them sit in that back booth, discussing the matter at hand. The narcotics division has been trying to catch the supplier of pixie dust, a drug that’s recently made its way to Boston from New York. They have a fairly good idea who the importer is, but they haven’t been able to catch him thanks to a mole in their ranks. One of their own has been tipping off Walsh Nikko and their captain is fairly certain it’s Jefferson.

A man by all rights is mad as a hatter. Killian had only dealt with the man a few times, but undercover work had taken its toll on Jefferson and he returned from a botched assignment with demons in his soul.

Killian explains everything to August. How Captain Humbert needs him to come in as a disgruntled cop, how he needs to break rules and make his distaste of the Boston PD known. That it shouldn’t be difficult given their recent encounter and his suspension.

He knows it’s working when snippets of August’s ranting about his character get back to him.

______________________________

His adrenaline is waning and his stomach turns. He barely makes it away from everyone on scene into a back alley before the remainder of his lunch is spilling out of him. He’s never been so terrified in his life, and nothing is right. Nothing makes sense, and he’s still hurling his guts out. There’s blue and red flashes of light coloring the clouds above them as nearly all of Boston has turned out to the scene.

There’s going to be mountains of paperwork, but that’s tomorrow's problem. Right now, he just needs to get out of there, far away from the flashing photography bulb and the interviews. Away from the smell of blood, the screams he swears are still echoing in the building. He just needs to get away.

He’s not sure how he ends up here. He’s not even sure how he knows that address, but his feet have somehow brought him here and he knows that he can’t keep holding everything in. He can only pack it all down so much before the latches break and everything explodes around him.

Dr. Hopper doesn’t even seem surprised to find him standing outside of his brownstone, just motions for him to come inside. Archie goes to get him a towel, which he tries to refuse. It’s only at the man’s instistance that he realizes that he has blood on his jacket, and that’s his breaking point.

There’s blood on his jacket, and despite scrubbing it for the length of the car ride back to the precinct, he’s standing on the steps to the 56th and it’s still there. He’ll likely have to burn the damn thing. As remissed as he is though to discard his favorite article of clothing, it’s not the jacket that causes him pause.

He’s thought about this moment a lot of the last year. Wondering if she will be happy to see him, if she’ll care at all. There was a distance between them before he left, a chasm of his own doing, and when he told her he was leaving, he couldn’t miss the look in her eyes. A flash of betrayal and distrust, and while she’s the only thing that’s carried him through the last eleven months, he knows the chances of her thinking of him in the same way are lower than he cares to admit.

He’s thought of it so many times, playing it out over and over in his mind. How he’s going to find her and finally confess his feelings. Of how he can’t keep pretending that friendship with her is enough from him, that he wants more. How the random kisses they share are like knives to his heart showing him of what could be but isn’t. He’s played it out so many times, but never was he standing before her in a blood stained jacket.

But now that she’s there and in his arms clinging to him just as strongly as he is her, he couldn’t care less. She’s soft and warm and still smells of cinnamon just as he remembered, and her touch soothes the monsters whispering inside him. He felt broken the whole time he was gone, but she’s mending him.

He finally breaks away, he needs to tell her, he needs to just get the words out, but before he can, Liam is behind him ordering him to the bullpen, and now isn’t the time. It’s not a rushed conversation to have with people yelling his name from another room.

“I, we’ll talk later, ya?”

She nods, and it’s only then that he notices the faint tears that have been freshly wiped away.

They never talk about it though.

Liam takes him out to dinner, just the two of them, and by the time he gets home, the monsters are back, reminding him of all the things he’s done. Of what a villain he is now, and he knows that he’s not good enough for her.

His monsters are back, screaming, drowning out anything good and all he sees is the dark. Archie brings him a glass of rum, telling him after the night he’s had, he deserves it. And they talk. For the first time, Killian lets the walls down and tells Archie about all of it. All of the dastardly deeds he did while undercover. About how everything that has happened since is his fault, it’s because people like him don’t deserve happy endings.

Archie rebukes everything he says, but it does little to ease his conscience. He leaves Hopper’s house feeling slightly lighter though having unburdened himself, and possibly hopeful for the first time in years. But he’s still got a lot of work to do, and he knows it’s going to take time.

His suitcase is packed before it ever even occurs to him to call his commander and tell him that he needs a sabbatical. He expects pushback. Hell, he expects the man to tell him he’s fired, but his commander understands and tells him to take whatever time he needs. That they’ll find a place for him whenever he’s ready.

Liam’s boat is still in the harbor just as he remembers it. She’s been neglected the past two years, his own fault to be certain, and she’ll need some work as well, but she’s sea worthy enough, and he can’t be in Boston anymore. The sails are unfurled and he’s just pushing off when he pulls his phone out of his pocket, making one last call.

She doesn’t answer, he knows she won’t, and perhaps that’s why he’s calling her now, when he knows she’s busy. Instead he leaves a message, telling her that he loves her, that he always has and always will, but that he’s broken. That he needs some time to clear his head if he wants to be a man deserving of her heart.

He’s a bastard and a coward.

And then he’s gone.

[westiec]

fic I want to see: five futures Tony/Rhodey/Pepper deserved but never got

Hey there friend! I'm going to take advantage of the @goodintentionswipfest to finally answer this ask by posting what exists of the fic I totally never finished writing you for this prompt before I burned out real hard on writing last year. Hope you get a little bit of fun out of what's here. <3

1 - MIT meet, 100% less drama

Tony meets James-call-me-Rhodey Rhodes at MIT. In other universes, they were on campus at the same time, but the whiz kid playboy tearing up the mech-e department and local bar scene seldom crossed paths with the steady grad student getting a masters in aircraft design courtesy of the Air Force. 

In this one, they are inseparable. 

Rhodey's got a way of following his train of thought that Tony's never encountered, and his intuitive understanding of flying machines outstrips Tony's own. (Tony is determined to catch up, but Rhodey never makes him feel bad for having to. Entirely unlike Howard, he thinks, and feels disloyal for the thought.) They bounce ideas off each other and make each other sharper, better, and it's a feeling of belonging Tony never expected to find. When they build an AI - a Turing-complete AI!! - Tony jokes about them becoming parents without ever going on a date, and the look of wistful fondness on Rhodey's face is all the encouragement he needs to finally ask him on one. 

After graduation, Tony owes years to SI and Rhodey owes years to Uncle Sam, but they keep in close touch, with plans to go into business for themselves one day. Times being what they are, no one asks, and no one tells, but he and Rhodey both know that the much publicized dates with various eligible ladies are for maintaining appearances and nothing that will really come between them.

When Howard and Maria die, Rhodey must cash in every favor he has to get the leave, but he's there for the funeral. Tony is pretty sure his steadfast support is the only reason he could stand to be sober those first couple weeks. Stark men are supposed to be made of iron, but Rhodey's always been the one with a core of steel. 

Rhodey never trusts Obie much, and - continued relationship with Tony notwithstanding - Rhodey is an impeccable judge of character. A few years later, an internal audit proves his instincts right when Stane is caught laundering company assets to sell weapons on the black market. Terrified at the thought of his weapons in the wrong hands, Tony quietly begins to diversify SI's business model - clean energy, healthcare, [THIRD THING] - things that can build the world up instead of tear it down.

Eventually Tony is able to hire Rhodey away from the military to be his chief airframe designer and personal test pilot. They move out to California to oversee the autonomous search-and-rescue drones they're developing, and set up in a preposterous mansion overlooking the ocean in Malibu, with their ever growing family of bots and JARVIS to make the huge place feel full.

Despite having no qualms shout their personal AI butler and robotic lab assistants, Rhodey calls him bougie when Tony brings on a driver, Harold-call-me-Happy Hogan, and a personal assistant, one Ms. Virginia Potts. Happy's a solid driver and a cheerful guy, but Ms. Potts is a downright revelation. She's the second person he's met now who has no trouble keeping up with his mile-a-minute mind, and though her competencies lie along a different line than his or Rhodey's, he quickly realizes they are no less remarkable. He also plain likes her in an easy way he so seldom clicks with people. Tony might be a little bit smitten.

After a while he realizes Ms. Potts-call-me-Pepper (and seriously, did Tony miss a memo on alliterative nicknames?) seems smitten too, though not with him. Rhodey's no longer active duty, but old habits of discretion die hard, so she has no way of knowing when she strikes up a flirtation with the airman that he and her boss are more than just business partners. Rhodey's flustered, and Pepper's embarrassed, but Tony's always had a big heart, and he loves nothing quite so much as making the people he cares about happy. He can see the way his honeybear smiles when she's around, and it's obvious how much she lights up with him, and he's a genius, right, but he doesn't need to be to see that they'd work. So he tells them to go for it, as long as Pepper doesn't mind sharing and Rhodey doesn't mind being shared, and they look at him like he's grown a second head because what they want is all of them together.

They totally work.

2 - IM1, BUT HAPPIER?

They meet when Lt. Rhodes is assigned the Air Force liason to Stark Industries. Warned in advance, Rhodey was expecting brash, crass, and totally out of control, but what he found in Stark, Jr. was someone with a passion for machines and an excitement for invention unlike anyone he's ever met. When they realize they'd been on campus at the same time, Tony (“please, Mr. Stark was my father”) declares them the Brass Rat Pack, which makes him roll his eyes, but doesn't make a Sammy Davis, Jr. joke, which bumps him up a couple more points in Rhodey's estimation.

3 - IM2 BUT WITH SOME DAMN COMMUNICATION 

Rhodey was always going to get a suit. Tony's best friend, the best pilot he knows, AND one of the few people in military he actually still trusts? Of course. He offered Pepper one too, but he seemed to expect her to turn him down, because then he offered her the position of CEO. Insisted, really. 

So Pepper becomes the head of Stark Industries while Tony and Rhodey become Iron Man and War Machine. The military brass doesn't love having one of those suits and all of their secrets in the hands and head, respectively, of such an unpredictable element, but knowing that Colonel Rhodes is liasing most of his activities goes a long way toward quieting the grumbles. The men's joint testimony on just how far off any imitators, foreign or domestic, are from duplicating the technology convinces Congress that Team Iron Man's op-sec, while unorthodox, is effective. 

Rhodey takes some well deserved R&R and joins Tony and Pepper in Monaco. It's new still, this thing between them all, but it's good. 

4 - POST-IM2

AVENGERS FAM DAMMIT

Aliens invade New York, and Rhodey is so glad he stole that damn suit. 

5 - POST-IM3

IN WHICH WE AVOID CIVIL WAR 

RESCUE HAPPENS

Rogers and Romanoff bring down SHIELD, and Pepper is horrified to realize how close she came to being murdered by the state. After Killian, after Extremis, she knows she could be considered a threat, but seeing her name, and Tony's, and Rhodey's, on the kill list in the data dump is chilling.

+1 - After Everyone Lives

"Meguna Petunia Stark-Potts-Rhodes, out of the lab and inside for dinner!"

Morgan laughed. "Not my name, Dad - and anyway, wouldn't it be Potts-Rhodes-Stark, alphabetically?"

"You know, you'd think that, but your pops actually called dibs on the anchor leg years ago…"

"A relay's got four legs, Dad."

"What did I ever do to deserve a jock for a daughter? Tell you what, find us a Q who doesn't run screaming, and we'll consider it."

"What are we considering, Tony?"

"Morgan thinks our polycule needs to be a quadrilateral, apparently, and I'm blaming the track team. I've told her we're only considering candidates with Q last names; we're so close to a straight."

"Tony, you've never been close to straight in your life."

Mom gestures at the two bickering and pleads, "Just not another guy, please, darling, I'm outnumbered already."

"I dunno, you usually like tha-"

"Tony!" Mom and Pops shoot him identical stern looks.

Family. She wouldn't want it any other way.

If anyone made it this far, thanks for reading! @allofthefeelings I'm sorry the full fic never made its way out of my brain, but thank you for the prompt anyway! And thanks again to the Good Intentions WIP Fest!