Well friends, I’m a little late getting this posted this week, but I wanted to revisit this little early 5a one shot - a missing Swan Believer moment that I would have loved to see when they returned from Camelot to Storybrooke. There’s art now too, so hopefully the whole product will bring a bit of warmth and a little smile. It can still be found as a chapter in my collection of various one shots, “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”, on either AO3 or ff.net, if that is your preference. There are numerous other fics where this came from in that collection.
Summary: Standing alone outside Granny’s Diner, while all of those she loves are gathering inside without her, Emma feels the true weight of what taking on the Darkness has cost her. But there’s one special person who can still bring an offering that reaches her, no matter how dark and cold the night might feel…
“Dark Swan, Hot Chocolate”
by: @snowbellewells
She stands alone outside the packed diner, huddled into the long, black duster she wears over her equally dark dress, futilely trying to ward off the chill autumn air. Unfortunately, the effort is wasted when the cold comes from within her as well, wrapping subtly around her heart. Cozy, bright lights and the hum of chatter from her gathered family, former friends and allies, emanate in a soft glow from the windows of the little inn and restaurant, piercing the night.
The woman once known as Emma Swan, now the self-proclaimed Dark One, impassively watches those within mingling, laughing, and embracing. If a person didn’t know the tiniest nuance of her face, she would look unaffected, waiting for the best time to make her next move. However, as her thin frame, buffeted by the wind at her back, leans forward slightly, a hint of the yearning within her peeps through the harsh, immovable veneer. The former lost girl who had almost – finally ¬– found her home nearly shows through the frosted, severe hair and barely glimmering pale skin for a moment, aching desperately to take a step closer, to be back inside, within the warmth of love and light, once more a part of something.
The Darkness slides back in smoothly, quickly, before Emma’s human longing can fully take hold, purring with the thrilling tingle of so much magic at her fingertips, whispering that she does not need any of them. ‘Look at them, going right on without you…’ the insidious voice in her head reminds, until Emma finally recedes once more and it is the icy, impervious new magical villain who turns and begins to walk away – a solitary black shape against the backdrop of the dark, deserted street.
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NEW Chapter! A Trick of the Light - A Captain Swan Tale
Chapter 7: United
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…The Tale of a reunited family, an inescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan!! who dragged herself out of bed to fix all of my problems ♥️
♥️♥️♥️
The headlights of the yellow Bug cut across the parking lot and Alec navigated her car into the wide space beside them.
“Stay here for a moment, Swan,” he opened the door, the rain falling harder now against the gravel, “I’ll be right back.”
He popped the back hatch, Alec leaving the Bug to stand with him, voices soft as Killian pulled something, a cutlass, from the trunk. Killian started to hand Alec the sword, pulling back sharply and raising his eyebrow, and asked, “are you sure you can handle a blade, lad?”
Alec scoffed, pulling the pommel out of Killian’s loose grip, jaw twitching with annoyance at the nickname Killian had bestowed on him as soon as they were once more together in this land- look er’ lad, I may not be a one thousand year ol’ pirate- it was Killian’s turn to scoff- steady on, mate- and release the sword to his friend. But I’m no’a laddie, I’ve held blades my whole life, and if what may be waiting for us on that ship is what you say- he nodded at Killian, eyes sharp- ye’ar gon’te need a’hand, aye?
Killian had been worried, pushing gently past Henry as the boy bounded into the living room, his mother on the floor with the baby, skin ashen with fear, to stand sentry at the door to their home, the whisper of a name like the sting of ice water on his soul.
Blackbeard.
He would not have left her. Never would he have given her back voluntarily.
But if Henry was correct, and Killian knew in heart that he was, something was wrong.
He had excused himself, driving as quickly as he dared to the farm, Alec meeting him before his feet hit the wooden steps of the porch- what’s wrong, lad?- nodding to Fiona as he closed the door of the study behind them both.
Killian told him a tale of a rival, a wager and a die cast. He had traded his Jolly for a future- this future- and he would not have that taken from him.
“Dinna worry, lad,” Alec’s voice was quiet, gentle as the rough burr was soothed by the Scotch he had poured them both, “we’ll sort it out.”
Alec slid the blade into the scabbard at his hip, securing it carefully before nodding towards the water.
“Is that her?”
“Aye.”
♥️♥️♥️
Read the rest here.
Tagging (let me know if you would like to be added):
Summary: (s3A, "Good Form" canon divergence) Instead of David getting hit with the poisoned arrow, it's Hook. Now it's up to David to get Hook to Dead Man's Peak before Dreamshade takes Hook's life, and maybe learn, perhaps too late, that Hook is far more than just a pirate. h/c Captain Charming
AO3
Chapter 3 (under the cut!)
"You want to keep wasting time or do you want to live to see morning?"
Hook felt shock wash through him.
What he deserved was to die a painful death, alone and unloved.
What he wanted was to live to see the day he wins Emma Swan's heart.
No one has cared to save him in centuries.
No one has cared about him in centuries.
And if he were to put his faith in anyone, it would be the family that had defeated Cora, changed the Evil Queen (more or less), and saved their town from a seemingly-impossible-to-stop destruction.
He has yet to see any of them fail at anything.
Perhaps they could find a way to save his life, beyond the Neverland spring water.
But the one thing he'd never thought possible was David, Emma's bloody father looking at him with something other than contempt.
"Can you stand?"
Hook shook himself a little, refocusing his vision. He had just managed to catch his breath; his jaw was killing him—and that was the second time the prince had struck him this week—and he'd very nearly passed out.
Bloody gods, he was so weak.
The poison was hours away from his heart, and hell he was feeling it.
"Aye," breathed Hook, but was shocked once again when David's expression furrowed with something Hook would almost call concerned.
Swallowing, Hook allowed the man to pull him to his feet. Hook shut his eyes as his sense of gravity tilted, and he used his hook to catch himself on the tree. He blinked his eyes open as it settled, finding that crease in David's brows deepen.
"Come on," he said, "we should tell the girls."
Hook felt his chest clench.
David started back toward the camp, and Hook took a heavy breath, and followed, his hand twisted in the material of his shirt. The poison burned under his skin, making him all too bloody aware of how close he was to his end.
But he forced himself to keep up with David's pace, his heart beating faster.
Once back at the camp, Hook took another breath to steady himself, and released his vest, straightening as much as he could.
"Where's the vine?"
Hook felt his chest hurt at the sound of Emma's voice, walking into view of them. Emma and Snow White had stopped working at the sight of David empty-handed, and Regina even gave them a lift of her brow.
"Uh," began David, with half a look to Hook. "About that… Hook is—"
"—I think there's something we can use to read Baelfire's starmap," said Hook, cutting off David, ignoring the sharp rise of David's brows.
"Hook—" began David with surprise.
Hook shot him a look, then continued, pulling out the torn scrap of material from Liam's satchel—the only part of Liam he kept with him—with shaking fingers. "David and I found this; it's from my brother's—" Sharp pain in his chest. "My… Captain's satchel," he amended quickly, blaming the poison for loosening his tongue, "from the first time I set foot on Neverland," he found himself whispering. "I'd thought it was gone forever. But Pan had stolen many things from those who wander here," he said, shutting his eyes for half a second, trying his best to not sway. He opened his eyes, meeting theirs, Emma's, saying, "If this survived, I believe his sextant did as well. We can use it to decode the map."
David was staring at him with an incredulous look on his face.
But Hook met his eyes, and David held the gaze for a long moment, before saying to the others, "Hook… said it's a few hours' trek from here. I say he and I check it out while you three get in touch with Henry."
Emma and Snow stood.
"You want to split up?" asked Snow softly.
With another look to Hook, who wished he was closer to a tree he could use to steady himself, David said, "It's our best shot."
Snow bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay."
David pulled his wife to himself, kissing her and Hook felt himself look at Emma, who was already looking at him. "You and David on a trip?" she said with half a laugh. "One of you might not make it back."
And Hook swallowed, his chest hurting, because that was more than a possibility, and why she mustn't know the truth of the trip.
"Be safe while I'm gone." he whispered, eyes burning into hers.
Because even if he doesn't make it back…
She must.
Emma seemed a little taken aback by the heaviness in his voice, and she swallowed. "Always am," she said just as quietly.
And his eyes lingered on hers, wanting to say it, needing to say it.
But he can't be another man to love and leave her.
So he feigned a smile, something holding every ounce of his brokenness, the little strength he had left, and he forced himself to walk away, feeling David follow behind.
-.-.-.-.
"What the hell was that?" demanded David the minute they were out of earshot of the rest.
Hook let out a breath, staggering ahead of David, and David felt himself hovering close. The man looked like he was about to collapse. "What?" managed the pirate weakly. All the bravado that he'd shown in front of the girls vanished in a second, and David felt something he never thought he'd feel for a pirate, let alone Hook.
Pity.
"The lying out of your ass," clarified David, matching Hook's slow and uneven pace. "Why the hell did you do that?"
Hook swallowed, stumbling and catching himself on the trunk of a tree before pressing on. He shut his eyes briefly. "Because I'm not entirely sure I'll make this trip," he admitted quietly. At David's confusion, Hook said, "The arrow was meant for Emma." David felt his chest tighten at the reminder that it was almost Emma stumbling beside him, dying before his very eyes. "She'll blame herself." Even quieter, something horribly sad in his voice, he said, "And that is a curse I'll not leave her with."
David hesitated for a moment, at the sheer weight of the words.
Those words sounded heavier somehow.
Experienced.
David felt his mind click pieces into place.
"David and I found this; it's from my brother's—my… Captain's satchel, the first time I set foot on Neverland."
"The spring there… Its water has the properties to heal any ailment. I once used it to heal my br—one of my crew from Dreamshade."
"Since its power comes from the island, it only works in Neverland. If I were to leave Neverland, I'd die."
"It was your brother," said David softly, and he saw Hook stiffen to a stop. "Wasn't it?"
Hook went deathly still.
"You lost him to Dreamshade… didn't you?" said David, stopping beside him.
And he felt himself freeze at the look on Hook's face.
It was just…
Pain.
Hook shook himself a little, pressing on, only saying, "It's not far now."
David felt himself follow numbly.
Because he's never quite seen that kind of pain before.
"She'll blame herself. And that's a curse I'll not leave her with."
Whatever exactly happened to his brother… Hook blamed himself for his death.
Taking blame for anything wasn't exactly the action of a pirate.
And it was becoming more and more like Hook's actions weren't that of a pirate.
Ever since he was a boy, David had grown up with the knowledge—the simple fact—that pirates were selfish scum. Hurting innocents, taking what they wanted when they wanted it.
And the reputation of Captain Hook had spread across the realm. He was not only no exception to David's view on pirates; he was the worst of them all.
David hadn't ever given thought to thieves or pirates beyond that simple fact that they were bad and he was good.
But with the knowledge that Emma had been a thief at some point, stealing from innocent people, and Snow hadn't exactly only stolen from the rich as a bandit.
It was only now that David realized that maybe Hook wasn't the same as people like Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin hurt people for the glee of it, for the sport. He'd chased off his only son and chose not to make up for it when he had the chance.
But what David knew of Hook's life was that he was one of the most feared pirates in the realm, and that he was on a suicidal quest to kill the man who'd killed the love of his life.
For the first time, David felt himself realize that Hook had given up the tirade.
Sure, he was here for Emma, not out of general nobility, but…
Pirates don't care about anyone but themselves.
And pirates definitely don't go to the lengths Hook has for a good time with a woman.
In fact, Hook had gone after his revenge solely for the woman he'd lost.
As much as David hated admitting it, he might have been slightly… wrong, about pirates.
And certainly about Hook.
His innuendos and flirting with Emma and Snow aside—though David had noticed the flirting has shifted fully and solely to Emma recently—Hook has put forth more of an effort to change than Rumplestiltskin and Regina combined.
Rumplestiltskin was here out of obligation to his son.
Regina was here because she needed Henry in her life, not solely because Henry needed her.
And Hook was here, David had thought, because he wanted Emma for himself.
But to sacrifice his life for her?
"Be safe while I'm gone."
David had heard the words, and every emotion behind them.
Hook had changed, and David had been too stubborn to change his own mind about him.
Hook stumbled again before him, letting out a groan, catching himself on a tree, taking yet another break in their trek.
David held back, feeling guilt and fear for the man creep up his spine.
They'd given Regina and even Rumplestiltskin a chance to change, and neither have exactly taken it.
Hook had.
And David suddenly found himself wanting to see the man he became on the other side.
He just hoped, as he watched Hook stumble once again, that they would both be able to.
Summary: (s3A, "Good Form" canon divergence) Instead of David getting hit with the poisoned arrow, it's Hook. Now it's up to David to get Hook to Dead Man's Peak before Dreamshade takes Hook's life, and maybe learn, perhaps too late, that Hook is far more than just a pirate. h/c Captain Charming
AO3
Chapter 2
Two hundred years.
In all the two hundred years he'd been trapped on this godforsaken island, he'd managed to avoid Dreamshade poisoning, only to finally suffer the fate within two days of returning.
Hook dropped tiredly against the trunk of a tree a few dozen paces away from the camp. They'd spent the day looking for Tink, who'd only agreed to help them if and when they found a way off the island. They'd go looking for Bae's old 'home' after the lot of them got some rest.
Hook let his head rest against the bark, shutting his eyes with a weary sigh. The day of walking that had never once gotten him out of breath had nearly depleted all of his energy. Climbing into Tink's treehouse had been a feat in and of itself. By the time they settled to make camp, a thin layer of sweat made the twisted humidity of the island nearly unbearable.
Opening his eyes, Hook hesitated for a moment, not wanting to look at it, not wanting to see the timeline of what was left of his life.
But with a sharp intake of breath, he jerked up his shirt again, forcing himself to look down.
His heart stilled.
The black tendrils had spread far already, crawling across his torso, toward his heart. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his hand shook.
Days.
Weeks, at most.
But the truth of it was clear.
He was going to die.
It was just a matter of time.
And very little of it.
He dropped his shirt, shutting his eyes.
It felt like a cruel, horrible trick of fate.
The moment he finally gave up his revenge, the moment he finally decided to lay bloodthirsty Hook to rest, the moment he found something worth living for…
Something burned behind his eyes.
He suddenly thought of Liam.
Liam, who had died just as Hook will in a few days.
The poison had taken him in the very moment Liam had chosen to be a hero.
Hook's eyes opened.
Maybe that was just their legacy, then.
Their good will live on without them.
Hook sighed.
He could hear Emma's voice from where he was, talking with her parents.
That burning behind his eyes returned.
Bloody hell, he wanted to live on.
Taking a shuddering breath, Hook forced himself back to his feet, catching himself on a branch when his sense of gravity tilted with exhaustion.
He opened his eyes, lifting his head to look in the distance where he knew it was.
Dead Man's Peak.
The water would save him.
But Hook knew it was a trip he would not be able to make alone. Not with one hand and dwindling strength.
And to live on, watching Emma and her family leave?
To be condemned to the island for hundreds of years more?
It wasn't living.
Watching Emma leave him would kill him in ways even Dreamshade never could.
If he couldn't be saved, he was at least going to do whatever he could to ensure that Emma and her family were.
He didn't need them wasting time trying to save him, not when they had such little chance against Pan as it was. Not that they would want to, anyway.
For once in his life, he needed to be selfless.
So, it was a secret that would die with him.
He just wished such a thing wouldn't come so soon.
-.-.-.-.
The next afternoon, Hook blinked slow, trying to fight the growing weakness as they rifled through Baelfire's Neverland home. He attempted to shake the blur at the edges of his vision; there were perhaps maps here that only he could decipher for them. He needed to be strong.
He needed to live.
Just until they could find a way off the island.
And Hook tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the prospect of not being able to join them.
"He stopped counting."
Hook blinked, tuning back into Emma's voice, where she was, reading the tally marks on the wall.
"Because he got off the island," murmured the Queen, a soft smile on her face that Hook knew was misplaced.
However, Emma corrected her. "He was here longer. He stopped counting because he lost hope." Something sad descended in Emma's eyes then, a pain that Hook recognized from every Lost Boy, and his own reflection. "It's what I did, every time I left a new foster home. Counted days until counting seemed pointless."
Hook felt a muscle tick in his jaw.
If those words didn't describe his life at the moment.
Almost as if to emphasize his ticking clock, he felt his sense of gravity shift, and he was only lucky the wall was near enough to keep him upright.
Bloody hell, he's getting worse.
He kept his eyes shut, trying to ground himself.
He heard shuffling, and opened his eyes to see the group leaving the cave.
He might not get another chance.
Swallowing, Hook took an unsteady step, managing to keep himself upright. He quickly moved into Emma's way. "Swan," he breathed.
"What?" she asked, her eyes darting over his shoulder and back. "We're wasting time."
She was even more terrified for her boy now, he could see it bright in her gaze. He was the last thing on her mind. However...
He swallowed.
He's had two people—the two most important people in his life, prior to Emma—die in his arms. No last words. No final sentiment.
He couldn't leave her without telling her something.
She was staring at him expectantly, impatiently.
Bloody hell, there was only one thing he wanted to say.
"I, ah…" His voice caught.
He's never, not once, been speechless around her before.
But, damn it, he's trying to say goodbye and he doesn't bloody know how.
Shutting his eyes, he went on, "I just wanted to say… that I, too, know what it feels like." He swallowed, practically feeling the poison spread further across his torso. "To lose hope," he whispered, because damn it, he already has.
Summoning up the courage, he shut his eyes, opening his mouth to say it, to finally tell her—
"Look," Emma cut in. "I know what this is."
He froze.
"This," she said, irritation coloring her eyes. "You. Trying to… bond with me."
The burning behind his eyes returned.
"So save your breath," she said. "I'm not in the mood."
She walked around him, and Hook shut his eyes.
Something hot fell, trailing down his cheek, as it was now two secrets that would die with him.
-.-.-.-.-.
David glared at Hook as he dropped an armful of vine, where Emma and Snow were busy tying them together to make rope.
Hook, who had slunk off while everyone else set up camp, and came back unsteady and looking nearly out of it. Clearly helping himself to some refreshments. The amount of times he'd disappeared made David wonder how the man was still capable of walking.
And now, had dropped himself down on a log, his eyes drilling a hole in the back of Emma's head.
David felt familiar anger course through him regarding the pirate, since he was the damn reason they were stuck here, and Henry was in danger.
He was walking around like he was a gift to them, being so generous to offer his "help", though to David, Hook's "help" was nothing more than an attempt at redemption for the pain he's already caused them.
And the fact that Hook seemed to have his eyes set on his daughter wasn't helping things.
At all.
The idea of Hook getting anywhere near his daughter…
"We need more vine," said Snow to David, pulling him from his thoughts.
Nodding, David moved to walk back through the trees. "Hook." growled David as he passed. "You're coming with me."
Hook slowly shifted his gaze from Emma to him, like it took effort. "And why's that?" he muttered.
"Because we need more rope," repeated Emma toward Hook, brow hitched up.
David's glare was still pinned on the pirate, who turned to look at Emma, something exhausted slipping into his eyes. But he sighed, giving her a smile that David wanted to punch off, and said, "As the lady insists."
The smile fell as he moved to stand, again unsteady, looking more than reluctant to follow.
David headed into the trees, feeling the pirate lurk behind.
Once they were out of earshot from the girls, he heard Hook mutter, "What would you like to yell at me about now, Dave?"
David pulled a vine from a tree, not bothering to turn toward Hook to say, "Stay away from my daughter."
A slight, tired-sounding scoff. "She can take care of herself," muttered Hook. "She doesn't need your parenting."
David felt himself seethe. The words had meant to irritate him, and succeeded.
"You're not gonna get her," said David firmly.
A slight hesitation came from behind him, then, surprisingly quiet, Hook said, "I know."
It made David pause halfway to reaching for another vine, because he's never once heard Hook concede an argument.
The bastard was probably playing an angle, and David grabbed a vine with more force than necessary, saying, "Because I'm not going to let you."
"Yes," came Hook's sarcastic mutter. "That's why."
David felt his brow twitch, his patience reaching its end.
And then…
David turned around, and threw his fist into Hook's jaw.
Hook hadn't expected it, and to David's surprise, Hook's eyes had been shut, and he'd been leaning his arm against the trunk of a tree as if for balance.
Hook didn't roll with the punch.
He collapsed.
The pirate hit the dirt hard on his back, groaning from the impact.
David blinked for a second; stunned.
Damn, he really is drunk.
David sighed, really not wanting to explain this to Snow.
"Hook." said David flatly, walking toward him.
But Hook's eyes were screwed shut, and his breath hitched.
David felt something unsure shift in his chest. "...Hook?"
But Hook made no move to get up, and something felt wrong.
Bending down, David shook his shoulder. "Hook," he said firmly. "I didn't hit you that hard," he found himself voicing.
Hook managed to blink his eyes back open. "Bl–bloody," he breathed, breath hitching again.
Something wasn't right.
"Hook," said David slowly. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Hook managed to open his eyes again, looking like he was actively trying to control his breathing. "J-Just a bit in…inebriated," he managed.
But it was only now that David could see the sheen layer of sweat on his forehead, and through the touch of his hand on the pirate's shoulder, that Hook was shaking.
David's eyes landed on Hook's hand, grasping at his chest, knuckles white, like he was trying to manage—
And suddenly David was flashing back to the past few days.
Hook's unsteadiness, that only seemed to have gotten worse. Everything that David had chalked up to rum, that only now he could see clearly wasn't.
"Damn it," cursed David, anger from before fading away. "You're not drunk—or, not any more so than usual," he muttered. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
When Hook didn't respond, and David realized that he couldn't, he grabbed Hook under his arms, dragging him up and leaning him against the trunk of a tree. Hook's face screwed up when he did, a horrible groan torn from his throat, the knuckles on his hand only growing whiter and his breathing harsher.
"Hook!" snapped David, shaking him a little, making Hook's eyes open. "What's wrong with you?"
Hook held his gaze a little, the pirate's eyes looking glazed over with pain or tiredness or both. He swallowed, but seemed to realize that David wasn't going to let it go. With a weary sigh, he let go of his own vest, to reach down, his fingers shaking, to grab the bottom of his shirt. A muscle ticking in the man's jaw, he lifted his shirt.
David froze.
What looked like black spiderwebs had crawled across Hook's torso.
"What the hell is that?" he breathed.
Hook dropped his shirt, his hand falling to his side. "Dreamshade," he whispered.
David's eyes met Hook's. "Wait… you mean—"
"—the incurable poison native to the island?" Hook smiled, but it held no warmth. "Aye."
"When—?" began David, his mind racing through the past two days, trying to pinpoint when—
His eyes snapped back up to Hook.
"The arrow—" breathed David. Meeting the pirate's eyes, there was a sad sort of defeat in Hook's gaze that confirmed it. "The arrow that almost hit Emma?" whispered David in shock.
"Wasn't fast enough," said Hook hollowly, shutting his eyes.
A moment of tense silence.
Then—
"Why the hell didn't you say anything?!" demanded David.
"No point." replied Hook softly, opening his eyes.
"But…" He shook his head, shock flooding him. "What, were you just going to drop dead with no explanation?"
"That was the plan."
David looked back toward Hook's chest, then back to his eyes. "How long?" he asked.
Hook managed a weak shrug. "Hours," he whispered. "Might manage to make it through the night."
David felt something tighten his chest.
Hook was dying.
Dying.
As the silence spread, Hook took a breath. "I can… I can tell you everything I know," he said with effort, like talking alone hurt. "About the island, about Pan and the Boys."
David's brows kneaded.
He looked at Hook.
All day long, Hook had pointed out plants to avoid, mapped out parts of the island, and spent every waking moment of their trek spouting off information about the island and Pan himself. David had tried his best to tune the bastard out.
"That's why you wouldn't shut up about Neverland trivia all day?" breathed David incredulously.
Hook didn't say anything.
He wasn't just being an annoying ass who liked the sound of his own voice.
He did know he wouldn't get Emma.
Hook was dying, and he spent every waking moment trying to help them anyway.
David looked at Hook, feeling something indescribable in his chest.
Then, David suddenly found himself asking, "There's really nothing that can save you?"
But at that, Hook hesitated, a muscle ticking again in his jaw.
"There is," said David, brows lifting.
"No," said Hook, shutting his eyes.
"What is it?" demanded David.
"There's no way," repeated Hook, opening his eyes, attempting a weak glare.
There was.
But David felt himself pause with puzzlement; why would that be something Hook would keep to himself?
"Just tell me," said David firmly.
Hook sighed shortly, then reluctantly said, "There's a place in Neverland… Dead Man's Peak," he said. "The spring there… Its water has the properties to heal any ailment. I once used it to heal my br—" Hook stumbled over the word, making David's brow shift, and Hook instead said, "one of my crew from Dreamshade."
David moved to stand. "Then let's—"
Hook was already shaking his head. "Since its power comes from the island, it only works in Neverland." Meeting his eyes, he said, "If I were to leave Neverland, I'd die." And before David could suggest it— "And I've spent more years than I've cared to on this bloody island; I'll not spend more."
David hesitated.
With a heavy breath, Hook said, his voice weary, "Don't waste your time on me, mate. Find your grandson. Get Emma off this island."
David sank back to his knee, his mind whirring for a solution.
Not a few minutes ago he'd have been happy to see Hook go—at David's own sword, for that matter, after one too many looks toward Emma. But for some reason, seeing it in front of him…
"Look, there's got to be something we can do," said David. "At least we can buy you some time." Looking at the pirate, who was giving him an increasingly incredulous look, David said, "We're going to take down Pan; I'm sure we can find a way for you to leave the island and stay alive."
Hook was staring at him, a sort of innocent confusion in his eyes.
It was such a normal expression that Hook was almost unrecognizable.
David shook himself. "What do you mean?"
"Why bother with me?" asked Hook, the question spoken quietly.
Honestly, David wasn't entirely sure himself.
Hook had done plenty of bad in his life; if this was his fate, he definitely deserved it.
But Hook also didn't have to take that arrow for Emma.
All this time, knowing Hook's reputation with women, David hadn't wanted him making Emma another notch on his belt.
But to risk—to sacrifice his life for her?
That didn't exactly sound like a pirate after a good time.
That sounded…
Noble.
David hesitated a moment, trying to find something to say. With half a sly grin, he said, "Well, we need someone to captain the ship home."
"I'll talk you through it."
David paused again, giving Hook a look.
There was no ulterior motive in Hook's eyes.
There was only defeat, and a sadness that David had never noticed before.
David sighed. "How far is this dead guy mountain?"
Hook lifted his head, brows creased in confusion. "Dave—"
"How far?" repeated David, firmer.
Hook sighed shortly. "A few hours' trek from here."
David offered a hand to Hook. "Come on. Let's go."
Hook just stared at his hand, then him. "What?" he whispered, and suddenly his voice was devoid of any cunning, any arrogance. He again looked so normal it made David hesitate.
"Look," said David, sighing. "Like I said. We're heroes. We save dying people, and right now that's you."
"Dave—"
"Hook." said David, firmer. "If it wasn't for you, it would be Emma dying right now." Sighing sharply, he said, "Not that I don't still blame you for taking the bean in the first place and giving Greg and Tamara a chance to take Henry—"
Hook winced, and for the first time, David saw regret flit through his eyes.
Or, perhaps it was the first time David has actually bothered to see it.
"You saved Emma's life," said David heavily, "and for that I owe you."
Hook shut his eyes. "Mate—"
"Not to mention the fact that we hero types," David went on, "save everyone. I sure as hell don't like Rumplestiltskin and I'm not exactly a fan of Regina's… but we saved both their lives because it was the right thing to do." He gestured with his hand again for Hook to take it. "Never thought I'd say it, but I actually consider you the lesser of three evils."
"I don't—"
"Emma and the others are working on getting a message to Henry, and we aren't traveling any further until tomorrow." said David with exasperation. "You want to keep wasting time or do you want to live to see morning?"
Hook hesitated.
David watched a battle of emotions rage in the pirate's eyes, from confusion to shock to something that looked like hope.
Summary: (s3A, "Good Form" canon divergence) Instead of David getting hit with the poisoned arrow, it's Hook. Now it's up to David to get Hook to Dead Man's Peak before Dreamshade takes Hook's life, and maybe learn, perhaps too late, that Hook is far more than just a pirate. h/c Captain Charming
(Chapter One under the cut!)
a/n: This first part takes place during the episode "Lost Girl" and picks up right in the middle of the fight against the Lost Boys, where David originally was hit by the arrow when he pushed MM out of the way. This is a CS compliant story with some CS but it's mostly Captain Charming bromance building :)
They were outnumbered.
Hook knew it.
However, he didn't think the rest of this lot did.
They had only been on this island one night, and they had not yet seen Lost Boys. Not until tonight.
And here, as the Boys began to slowly surround them, Pan's wicked smile grew as he knew everything Hook did.
The lot of them—Hook himself, the Prince, Snow White, Regina and, of course, Emma—braced themselves, but Hook could see it in their eyes. Regina, and even the Prince and his Queen, had a sort of confidence in their eyes that they would not have shown in the face of an army of grown soldiers.
They were underestimating them. For the Prince—as he'd proven when he'd blatantly ignored Hook's advice ever since the Dreamshade spotting—had a sort of bravado that would get them all killed. Most importantly, Hook himself.
Somewhere, Hook felt a familiarity in David. He reminded him of someone. Someone close to him, but as distant as a faded memory.
Yes. He was as brash and impulsive as Liam.
Hook's eyes landed on Emma.
She was the only one who didn't have the overconfidence that the others had.
She was distrustful of anything that moved, and as much as Hook understood that—lived that—and as heartbreaking as it was that someone as pure as she had grown into a distrust like that because she had to…
That distrust was on her side, tonight.
Feeling his chest tighten, hearing the snick of arrows being loaded into quivers, Hook snapped his eyes back to the Boys. There had to be over ten. Pan liked to play with his prey, and these Boys were hungry for fun.
Hook remembered that all too well.
But he also knew just how dangerous their weapons of choice could be, and he needed to snuff out that overconfidence in the heroes before it killed them.
"Watch out for their arrows," he said firmly, carefully drawing his sword. "They're laced with Dreamshade."
Snow White, Emma and David seemed to heed his warning, but Regina's face just twisted into a deeper scowl, that underestimation still there even as she formed a ball of fire in her palm.
A moment of silence passed, where every living thing held its breath.
Then, with a wild cry, the Boys began firing.
Hook deflected three arrows with one swipe of his blade, his heart hammering because plenty of things on this island scared him, but none of them scared him like Dreamshade.
None of them hurt him like Dreamshade.
It had never physically touched him, and had caused him more pain than he'd ever imagined.
Gods above, he hated it here.
A few Boys rushed at him, some he bloody recognized, and Hook took no hesitation before bringing them down. They may look like children, but they were older than he was.
Hook dispatched two other Boys, dodging arrows with his heart in his throat at every close call. One suddenly slipped sharply past him, and he felt it, however light the touch was.
Hook grabbed at his leg, where it had grazed, breathing out in relief when his coat was the only part of him harmed.
A quick look at the others showed him Snow White taking down Boys in rapid succession, and he was mildly impressed with her skill. The Prince was at her back, and they were fighting as partners, never leaving their backside unprotected, and it, for a moment, reminded him of how he had felt with Emma, when they'd fought the giant atop the Beanstalk.
On the other side of the clearing was Regina, setting ablaze to the forest, but the foliage didn't hold any of the fire, and with irritation Hook realized Pan was watching the fight, simply entertained, for he was deciding how far he wanted it to go.
But Hook's heart twisted, looking for Emma.
He spotted her, a few yards behind him, fighting a Boy with her cutlass. The Boy was grinning, playing with her, Hook knew, because for as impressed as he was with Emma, sword fighting was not currently a skillset of hers.
But, however, he also spotted a Lost Boy hidden in the trees across the clearing.
Smug grin on his face.
Arrow aimed at Emma.
"Swan!" cried Hook, taking down the Boy he was fighting with a swift blow, to see Emma oblivious to his cry of her name as she took down a Boy of her own with a punch to his face.
Hook ran, just as the Boy shot the arrow straight for Emma's chest.
Hook dove, tackling Emma to the ground, a mere millisecond before the arrow struck her.
They both hit the ground hard.
"Swan?!" gasped Hook.
Somewhere a whistle sounded through the air, and Pan was calling his Lost Boys back.
Footsteps ran, disappearing between the leaves.
Hook didn't care.
"Emma," he said breathlessly.
Emma's eyes shifted from shock and irritation to fear when she spotted the arrow buried in the dirt inches from her side. She looked from the weapon, dripping black ink from its tip, to Hook, and he saw a rare moment of her panic.
But she swallowed, attempting to compose herself, however shaken she was. "You really know how to charm a girl," muttered Emma, breathless, eyeing how he was still on top of her.
Hook ignored her, his eyes scanning her body for a different reason than usual. "Were you hit?" he asked sharply, not seeing any rips or tears in her clothing.
Emma met his eyes from where she lay on the ground, stilling at the concern in his eyes and his voice. "No," she said, clearing her throat a little, that rare fear in her eyes from the close call. "But I probably would have been if you hadn't done that." she relented in a whisper. With a little smile, she said, a touch of shyness to the words, "Thanks."
Hook felt relief wash through him.
"Emma! Hook," came David's voice, followed by his wife. "What happened?"
"Are you all right?!" Snow whispered with a touch of panic.
Hook lifted himself to his feet, offering his hand to Emma. She took it, telling her father, "An arrow almost hit me, but Hook knocked me out of the way." Two sets of impressed and gracious eyes flicked his way. "We're both okay." Emma looked to Hook, with a little concern of her own. "We're both okay, right?"
"Aye," said Hook, giving her a flick of his devilish grin. "Any reason to get you under me, love." He winked.
Emma looked relieved, despite the roll of her eyes… and the glare from her father, drilling a hole in Hook's head.
"If you're all done making sure no one broke a nail," came Regina's irritated voice, "I'd like to get back to finding my son."
Emma's face hardened. "Regina's right. We've got to figure something else out, and fast."
The group made their way out of the clearing.
Hook followed, but hung back a bit, finding some cover from the trees.
Quickly, he yanked his shirt from his trousers, pulling it up to reveal his abdomen. His fingers shook.
Because there, at his side, was a long cut, sliced from the arrow that had been meant for Emma.
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Summary: Vampire Killian interrupts Emma’s cooking for a drink of her blood. (This one is not particularly smutty, just a little implication.)
A/N: These are unbetaed simply because September started out of nowhere. 😅
Rated: M (but as a whole my Sucktember prompt fics are rated E); Words: 477; AO3
——
“Mmmm, something smells delicious,” Killian growled in Emma’s ear as he pressed his chest to her back and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Emma smiled wide, tilting her head with a soft giggle as he nuzzled her temple, his breath tickling her cheek.
“It’s just from a box,” she dismissed lightly.
“I’m not talking about the pancakes.”
Killian hummed at her scent as he nosed along her jaw. Opening his mouth, he slowly dragged his teeth along her neck, a feral rumble rolling from the depths of his growing hunger for her.
“May I?” he asked. As giving as Emma always was to him without fail, Killian promised to ask permission first every time he needed to drink, and he was determined to keep that promise.
“Always.”
“Thank you, my love.”
He was very gentle with her. His hand teased her skin beneath her shirt—well, his shirt, the long black button-down she’d pilfered from his side of the closet hanging open at her sides as he expertly undid the buttons—to ease her tension and keep her relaxed as his fangs sank into her flesh.
Emma gasped at the feeling, one she might never exactly get used to though it was far from unpleasant, and reached for Killian’s hair. He had a way of numbing her that felt as intoxicating as a few glasses of rum, the bloodloss just as dizzying. Her fingers tangled in his dark locks but didn’t pull him away. Instead, she encouraged him to keep going, whining quietly when he finally stopped.
“Shhh,” Killian soothed, holding her upright and petting her hair as he licked the small puncture wounds he’d made. “I’ll never have enough of you, darling, but that’s as much as I need right now. You should rest. I can finish making the pancakes.”
“Hnnn to hell with the pancakes,” Emma mumbled, trying to be seductive in her haze as she turned to face him and draped her arms over his shoulders. “You might be satisfied, but I need something else now.” Pressing her lips to his, she added as she kissed him, “Please?”
“You know I can’t resist you.” Killian nipped playfully at her bottom lip as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom.
Though the first bite was the only time he broke Emma’s skin, it was not the only mark Killian gave her that morning, and well into the afternoon too. He covered her body in bruises of love as he sucked a bit too hard with each attentive kiss. But Emma reciprocated in kind, just as desperate for the taste of him as her energy quickly renewed.
Soon enough, they were both worn out again, and they curled up on their bed to rest, tangled in their sheets and each other’s embrace.
Set soon after Dark Hollow at some nebulous point.
Emma confronts her parents about Neal, and it leads to a heart-to-heart with a certain pirate.
Rating: G (very mild swears, I don't even have Emma say 'fuck' once)
Word count: 3k+
@teamhook
--
a/n
Be warned, there's some classic pro-Neal Snowing that quickly gets dismantled. There's also a surprising lack of swears.
Will I ever get enough Neverland fics? No. Never.
To my friends in the csmm discord--it's good to be back. I've missed you. Hope this makes up for my months of absence.
And for my multichapter fic readers, I'm hoping to make some progress on that soon.
xx Elise
Read it on AO3 here.
Or read it now, right here on tumblr.
Emma Swan, ever the optimist, was convinced that if Mary Margaret gave her one more pointed look about Neal, her head was going to explode.
The island wasn’t enough of a hell hole, no, she had to deal with the return of her ex and her meddling (naive) parents and Regina’s stupid snark and that fairy who kept watching her—not to mention, oh yeah, trying to save her son.
But saving people was what she was born to do.
Apparently.
(She was still having trouble believing that one.)
It turned out that hacking through a jungle was a great release of frustration, though.
There was another thing that was wearing on her, a certain thing she didn’t want to even name. A thing that simultaneously drove her nuts while also kept her head from actually exploding, but that realization itself was almost enough to freak her out past the point of recovery.
As much as she was denying (and would continue to deny) it to—well, to everyone, she couldn’t deny it to herself anymore. Not after the Dark Hollow and the shadows and the candle and her magic. Because her magic had cooperated, and she hated that she knew why.
And god, everything he’d said—she couldn’t think about it now. She had to save her son. But that didn’t stop the feelings that just kept coming.
Luckily, those feelings were easily covered up by irritation when she caught him and Neal bickering over something about firewood or guard duty or whatever excuse to argue that they were able to scrounge up on this hell island.
Emma stood several yards from the two, leaning up against a tree and trying to keep the grimace from becoming too noticeable.
“I’m so happy that you’re finally getting your second chance, sweetheart,” Mary Margaret said, startling Emma for more than one reason.
“Oh, um, that’s not—”
Mary Margaret put a hand on her arm to stop her. “It’s okay, Emma. You’ve found each other again. It’s all going to be okay.”
There were so many things Emma wanted to say. Wanted to scream, actually. But none of them came from her lips as she stared at her mother whose eyes were wide with that signature ‘hope and love’ look she should’ve gotten patented. By the time she thought of a response, Mary Margaret had left her with a smile and a wink.
--
If she stared at the fire any harder, her eyes were going to burn. She had no idea how long she’d been watching it as if it were the most interesting thing on Netflix, but going by the stiffness in her joints, it had been a while. And that’s when she realized that someone was talking to her.
“—and I know it’s been forever, Ems, but we should do it. For Henry.”
Emma’s head snapped up to look at Neal. His expression was so painfully Neal-like that she felt her muscles recoil instinctively. And though she hadn’t been listening all that well, she knew that it was a conversation she never wanted to be a part of.
“No.” It was hardly a declaration. But it was hers.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Exactly what I said, Neal,” she told him, standing and ignoring that aching in her bones. “Don’t follow me,” she added, not bothering to look back as she headed into the jungle.
It wasn’t a brilliant plan, walking off into the dangers of Neverland like that, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t go far, anyway. But she needed to feel like she was far. Far from him and his stupid words—it didn’t matter that she hadn’t heard them, she knew they were stupid—and his barely apologetic smile and also her parents.
She was painfully aware that even if she’d been on the other side of the damn island, it still wouldn’t have been far enough. So she settled for the nearest clearing.
She inhaled aggressively, until her lungs froze when her back pressed against a tree trunk, and she waited. For the tension in her every cell to release, for her world to shrink from oversized and dreadful down to the distance between her and the tree that stood opposite. She waited for the warning sirens to stop going off in her head.
They didn’t.
She kept breathing anyway. Even though she felt like she couldn’t.
And slowly, she started to feel like maybe she could handle the next inevitable thing that would try to break her.
But then David and Mary Margaret—her parents—shattered the temporary sanctity of her clearing, and she definitely couldn’t handle it.
Her mother’s eyes were hopeful and a little sad when she looked into them, and Emma wished for a moment that she wasn’t so shielded. Because maybe if they could just see the pain they caused her, maybe they’d understand. Maybe they wouldn’t push.
But vulnerability wasn’t something Emma was good at.
“Sweetheart,” her mother began cautiously, as if Emma were a startled doe rather than the Savior. “You can’t keep running from your happiness.”
And that was it. That was enough, a strike at her resolve to break open every crack.
“Happiness?” she echoed, and she felt like laughing. “Is that what you think I was when I was with Neal? Is that what you think I’d be if I was with him now? Happy?”
Mary Margaret blinked, taking a step back. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as if her hopeful words had failed her for once.
“Did Neal tell you that?” Emma asked. She couldn’t regret that she almost spat the question at them. “No, that’d be an outright lie—he knows better. Omission is more his style.”
David had gone rigid, his jaw locked into place. “You weren’t happy?” he wondered, his voice quiet.
Emma sighed, glancing away and into the darkness for a moment. “I know that I thought we were, back then,” she said. She returned her gaze to her father. “But I was young, and to me, back then, happiness was as simple as being chosen. Someone staying with me. Someone who hadn’t broken my trust.”
Her anger boiled in her chest, pushing her to say things she never would have dared to before. “But Neal doesn’t even qualify for that pathetic excuse for happiness anymore. And my requirements have certainly developed a bit since then. I refuse to apologize or even explain myself—to anyone—for doing something that I need. So you can put away your pleading looks and not-so-subtle glances and let me do what I need to do.”
Emma didn’t stick around to find out if they heard her, she just moved on, heading into the trees to take her a little farther from their camp.
She only made it a few feet from the clearing before she nearly collided with a figure, and when she stumbled back to find Hook staring at her with those eyes, she couldn’t even tell if she was irritated or not.
His hand had reached out as if to help her, but he drew it back, taking a shallow breath.
Her skin still buzzed from the rage and the relief she felt from setting things straight. She looked at him, and she knew that he’d heard. Knew that he hadn’t meant to, based on the edge of shame, the guilt that he wore on the crease of his forehead.
She winced at the sound of her parents still behind her, their voices carrying because they weren’t yet far enough away.
And then she decided.
Emma nodded towards the trees beyond, hoping he’d understand without words and follow her.
She couldn’t figure out if it was surprising or not that he understood immediately.
He trailed behind her, the sway and creaking of leather distracting her from the fading voices. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him closer, if having him just a step behind rather than five would make a difference.
The next clearing was much smaller than the last, but it would do. For what, she didn’t know.
There were a lot of things that she didn’t know.
He stood as far from her as the space would allow, his eyes following her as she moved her feet anxiously, nearly pacing instead of facing him right away.
She forced her feet to still, planting herself in the middle of the clearing—closer to him but not too close. She watched him for a long moment, pressing her lips into a tight line as she considered her words.
“You…heard everything?” she asked. It wasn’t accusatory or angry or anything like that (anything she would’ve expected from herself, anything he probably expected from her).
He nodded, his gaze cast downward now, fixed on the floor of the jungle.
Very suddenly, she wished she could read his mind.
Her arms folded across her chest, a necessary action after thinking something like that. Because she didn’t want to read his mind for any defensive reasons, a way that she could predict his movements and ensure that she was always one step ahead of him—no. She wanted to know the words that trailed through his mind when he pieced together things that her parents never could have.
“Tell me what you think,” she said, and his head snapped up, his eyes locking with hers, confused and reluctant to believe what he’d heard.
“Pardon?”
“You must have thoughts about it,” she replied.
His expression was somewhere between amused and pained. It was an odd combination. “Thoughts,” he muttered, as if he despised the word. “Baelfire abandoned you, and you’re asking me if I have thoughts?”
It was confirmation.
So, she supposed, there was one thing that she knew pretty well.
And she also knew that the fact alone terrified her.
“Yes.”
He blinked in surprise, all the tension of anger vanishing from his form. “Why?” he wondered, like he couldn’t fathom the idea of her wanting to know anything about him at all, like he couldn’t understand how his opinion could be worth anything to her.
“Because you weren’t surprised.”
Hook reeled at that, and the pain in his eyes confused her. “I didn’t know,” he protested—as if he would have done something if he had, as if he felt some sense of duty. “But you made it clear that he’d hurt you. And I…suspected,” he told her at last.
Her brow furrowed. “Did I?”
“Did you what, lass?”
“Make it clear,” she said, a little desperate now. “Because Mary Margaret and David obviously didn’t figure that one out.”
Clarity dawned on his features, and he shifted his weight, his thumb going in his belt loop. “Well, they can’t seem to get past the ‘first love must be True Love’ concept. Can’t blame them for that, really,” he said nonchalantly.
But she recognized the tightening of his shoulders, knew that he’d put up his guard, slipped on that Captain mask to hide something he didn’t want her to see. She studied him, searching his eyes that were the wrong shade in the darkness.
Oh.
Her throat attempted to close in on itself, and she had to look away from him, otherwise she would have had to run. And for once, she didn’t want to.
His gaze was on her when she glanced back at him, and there was a flicker of something there in the depths, something raw and nearly fearful. The sight of it should have sent her running, too, but all it did was make her more certain that she didn’t want to.
“You’re not gonna go all…macho pirate and punch him now, are you?”
He chuckled, and there was an edge to it that told her that he’d imagined doing exactly that. “I have a feeling that the prince will beat me to it,” he said.
Emma huffed, her arms folding over her chest. “Doubtful,” she mumbled (did she want David to punch Neal?). “They don’t usually understand me that well. Not like—” she cut herself off, but they both knew what she hadn’t meant to say.
Not like you do.
“I just mean,” she continued, “that I wasn’t explicit about what he did. Not really. I don’t think they’ll understand from just that.”
“True,” he said with a sharp nod. “But what do you suppose they’re doing, right at this very moment?”
She stared at him for a long moment, ignoring the way her heart flipped when his eyebrow did that thing. Now was not the time for her to get distracted by his various expressions. But when her mind finally allowed her to focus on something other than Hook and his…his—his whatever (not attractiveness, nope. Not sexiness. Pirate swagger? No, that couldn’t be it, either), it clicked.
“Shit,” she muttered, her eyes turning automatically back in the direction of their camp, but now her feet didn’t want to move. “You’re counting on the idea that he’d tell them the truth,” she pointed out, her attention on him again.
Hook shrugged. “Even if he lies by omission, I think they’re smart enough to put the pieces together,” he said, his lips turning towards a frown. He paused, adding, “Now that they no longer assume that Bae makes you happy.”
He was right (as he so often was when it came to her, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit that to herself or anyone else at the moment).
She sighed, “Is it bad that I don’t really feel like swooping in and preventing any bodily harm?”
He chuckled, and something about it made her feel warm. “Certainly not,” he assured her. “In fact, if you were inclined to join them, I believe that would be natural—warranted, some might say.”
She pushed out a breath, searching for the anger she knew she had buried within her—it was over a decade old—but she couldn’t seem to find it. “I don’t really feel like punching Neal,” she said abruptly.
His lips pressed into a line, cocking his head. “What do you feel like doing?”
Kissing him.
But she couldn’t say that. Or she shouldn’t say that.
She had to look away again, but this time it was because she would have snatched him up by the lapel and drank him in for hours if she kept looking at his mouth.
“I want…”
“What is it that you want, Swan?” he asked when she didn’t continue. His eyes were alight, as if knowing her desires would give him the answer to some long-sought question. As if knowing her desires—and fulfilling them—was his deepest desire.
“I want…to feel like I can breathe. For like five minutes,” she said firmly. “And then I want to save Henry.”
He nodded knowingly (he always knew). “And how would you go about that, then? Finding a momentary reprieve,” he added, and there went his eyebrows again. His curiosity was a magical thing, a living thing in his ocean blue gaze as he watched her, waiting patiently for her response.
Had he always been so patient with her?
(Had she ever let him?)
“I don’t know.”
He hummed thoughtfully, his thumb swiping over his lips as he considered it (and he had no idea what that did to her). “Well, when’s the last time you felt like you could breathe?” he asked innocently.
She knew.
Oh, she knew.
She stared at him, frozen in place while her mind skidded to a stop—she wasn’t even debating whether or not to tell him, she was just trying not to jump him.
“Swan?”
It was the way he said her name that got her (the one she’d chosen for herself, the one that didn’t link her with abandoned baby blankets and highways).
There was curiosity there, of course, but there was concern—genuine concern for her—and a desperation to understand what plagued her so he could rectify it.
“Emma.”
He didn’t say her name like a prayer—she knew nothing of religion.
Instead, he said it like he’d never said anything else, like he never wanted to say anything else. He said her name like a vow, like he was promising to her that he didn’t follow on blind faith alone, but because of an unshakable belief in her that was forged in their understanding of one another.
He said her name like it meant something to him.
He said her name like she meant something to him.
No, that wasn’t quite it.
He said her name like she meant everything to him.
So when she crossed the small clearing, it wasn’t fueled by anything but raw emotion and the stunning absence of fear—because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to open herself up to the possibility of something more.
She had been avoiding this and him for longer than she cared to admit, because the thought of starting over—the thought of trying again—made her doubt and pain form an abyss in her gut, threatening to swallow her whole.
“Emma?” he breathed when she reached him at last, his eyes too wide and hopeful and afraid of hoping, even when she latched her fingers on his lapel like she’d done before.
His proximity and the scent of him must have been intoxicating, because words were slipping out before she could prevent them—and she couldn’t even regret it.
“You make me feel like I can breathe,” she told him, barely finishing the last word before her lips were colliding with his.
He responded instantly this time (less shocked than before), his hand tangling in her hair but in that gentle way, like he thought she was something precious, like he believed that she should be handled with respect and care and other words that made her head spin.
Or maybe that was the effect of his mouth, the way his tongue slid along her bottom lip simply because he needed to taste her. She opened herself to him like she hadn’t before—her tongue exploring his, certainly, but this time she let herself feel.
He could tell, a moan on his lips that she devoured greedily, and he brought her closer, desperate to get her body flush with his. Even as she lost herself in their kiss, she could sense that he was still torn, still confused, still afraid that she would pull away and utter the words that she had that first time.
She drew back, breathless but somehow able to breathe for the first time in days—her feet didn’t try to carry her away, her brain didn’t shudder and flicker with horrible things, her body felt right. She felt more like herself than she had in a very long time.
“Swan?”
“When we get back to Storybrooke…”
“Aye?”
She smirked at him. “That’s when the fun begins.”
His mouth fell open, his eyes locked on her when she stepped away, turning back in the direction of camp.
“You coming?” she asked over her shoulder, something almost flirty in her tone. She felt lighter, and they could both tell.
It took him a moment for his brain to catch up, then he nearly stumbled in his attempt to leave the clearing. “Aye,” he called. To himself, he added, “I’ll never stop following this woman.” It was a promise.
He was just a step behind her this time as they walked back to camp, and she decided that it was definitely better. She made a promise to herself, too, though hers was silent.
She’d keep him close.
Because clearly, he belonged at her side. Even if she couldn’t say that aloud yet. But that was okay.
She had a feeling that he knew—he always seemed to know her best.
A/N: Sooo, I’m fairly new to this whole writing fanfiction thing. I usually feel like whatever I come up with is too ooc or that it’s been done. I think I’ve only actually posted two Sherlolly fics and a five-sentence Supernatural one so far. Oh, and that one Captain Dark Swan thing that kind of turned into a mini fic but started as a comment on someone else’s post. Anyway…
I actually wrote this quite a while before this season started, but I was never happy enough with it to post it and time just got away from me. So I’m finally posting it so I can’t let myself nitpick anymore. It might be a bit outdated now, but it was meant to be a stand-alone side-story anyway. I’m not exactly sure where to place it chronologically, but it should fall somewhere before all the Dark Swan stuff. And shoutout to @euphoric-melancholyy. Without her input and support back when I originally wrote this, I may never have posted it at all. Her help made it a lot better than what it was when I started. Thanks, Alex. <3
The intro lyrics are from “This I Swear” by Nick Lachey.
Feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think. <3
I may not say it quite as much as I should.
When I say I love you, darling, that means for good.
So open up your heart and let me in.
—————————————————-
“Mom?” Henry knocked on the bathroom door. “Mo-o-om, are you ready yet? We were supposed to meet dad ten minutes ago!” Anxious to begin the day’s adventures, he paced back and forth impatiently.
Emma grinned at her son’s excitement. She and Killian were going to take the boy sailing again after grabbing some lunch to-go at Granny’s. But the fact that he said dad made her stomach flutter, although maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. She loved Killian, though it was difficult for her to say the words, but as true as their love was, she wasn’t ready for that commitment yet, and he was fully understanding about it. She knew abandonment all too well, and even though she felt – she knew - Killian was better than that, she couldn’t bear to be the jilted lover once again, especially at the altar.
Henry, on the other hand, was a bit more ready to accept the next step. Killian had been the only father he’d ever really known, being that Neal had left Emma before Henry was born and had been murdered too soon for a relationship to form between them. Though Robin was kind to Henry whenever he stayed at his other mom’s home, they never really bonded like he had with the reformed pirate. It just felt right for Henry to begin calling the Captain “dad.”
Emma’s and Killian’s relationship had been going on for quite a while now, more and more publicly as they grew more comfortable with the reality of it. Everyone - even David, though he didn’t like admitting it - knew it was true love for the Pirate and the Swan, and a bond like that doesn’t break very easily.
With all the struggles she lived through in the system as a youth and alone during her unexpected pregnancy, Emma needed a little longer to adjust to her new surroundings. Friends. A family. Love. It was so much change all at once.
She just needed more time.
“Alright, kid. Cool your jets. I’ll be out in a sec.” She twisted the hair tie once, twice, three times around her golden locks so that they hung behind her head in a ponytail. Breathing in and exhaling hard, Emma mumbled to herself as she left the bathroom, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
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My dissertation on the horrible person Neal Cassidy is and why he was never meant to be a romantic interest for Emma Swan.
There was a recent TV Line list that talked about Love Triangles that didn’t really work. The Neal/Emma/Hook triangle was one of those on that list. It was obvious from the short blurb that was written that the writer was a Neal fan. I’ve also heard and seen SwanFire (Emma and Neal shippers) fans plead passionately about how they were meant to be, and honestly, I’ve always scratched my head about this, because I’ve always seen Neal as a horrible person. Even before it was obvious to me that they were going the Captain Swan (Hook and Emma) route, I’ve never understood how anyone could be on Team Neal. So I’ve decided to look at it logically.
Look, I understand that Neal is the father of Henry, Emma’s son. I understand that a lot of people feel they should be together because then they would be a family. But just because you have a child with someone does not mean that person is the one for you. So let’s look at the facts surrounding Henry’s birth. Henry was 10 when he found Emma on her 28th birthday, which means she was 17 when she had him (despite Emma saying she was 18 in The Price of Gold). She went to juvie, not jail, which we know from Desperate Souls, because she tells Regina that the records needed for the article printed about her in the paper about having Henry in jail were obtained illegally, because her records were sealed, something that could only happen if she were underage. We know that Emma ran away from Ingrid’s foster home at 16 and made her way to Portland where she stole the bug with Neal inside. At this point, Emma is either still 16 or just about to turn 17, depending on how long it took her to get to Oregon from Minnesota. Either way, she is still underage, and Neal, if we want to go off the age he is now since leaving Neverland, is around 22-23 (his wanted poster in Tallahassee has his birthday as 3/23/77), which is still skeezy in my book. I’m not even going to get into his years in Neverland, because he was the same age for that whole time. Now, Henry’s birthday is 8/15. Regina put this in as a code in the hospital in A Tale of Two Sisters, and in The Dark Swan Henry tells Killian that Regina uses his birthday for all her codes. Whether the writers intended this to be true when they used the code originally I have no idea, but this has been what most of the fandom considers Henry’s birthday. With that date in mind, Emma would have conceived Henry in November of 2000. Since we know Emma’s birthday is October 22nd or 23rd, that means she was only a few weeks past her birthday in conceiving Henry. Barely past the age of 16. In Oregon, the age of consent is (and was in 2000) 18, so Neal was breaking the law by having sex with Emma regardless of her consent.
