#cs-ff

Dragging himself off the sofa, he went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then pulled open the refrigerator door. 

“Fuck.” He’d forgotten to buy milk. “Fuck, fuck, bloody buggering damnation, now what?” He really didn’t want to walk all the way to the shop in his condition, but tea without milk was unthinkable. Perhaps there was a kindly neighbour in the building who might spare a drop, he thought. Unlikely, but he supposed it was worth a try. 

Taking a moment to splash cold water on his face and run damp fingers through his hair, and put on some clothes that didn’t smell like alcohol and sadness, he went across the hall and knocked on the door directly opposite his own. 

It opened, and Killian’s world tilted sharply on its axis, shifting everything around him, altering the course of his life forever. The woman standing before him was a vision, sunlight shining through her pale gold hair, green eyes wide in the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. She looked like an angel, like a fairy tale princess, like— like someone who could never be within the reach of the likes of him. He stood, stunned, struggling for breath and for sanity, aware he was staring but unable to tear his eyes away. 

Say something, gobshite

Desperately, he groped for his charm, the one thing he could always rely on to get him through difficult situations. It came to his aid, as it always did, and he produced a dazzling smile. 

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Killian Jones, I just moved in across the hall. I was wondering if I might borrow a drop of milk.” 

For the briefest moment their eyes met and something flashed between them, a recognition, like calling to like, a profound sense of home. Then it was gone, so abruptly he thought he’d imagined it, and her expression slammed shut followed quickly by her door. 

“No,” she said, punctuating the flat declaration with the click of her lock. 

He stood outside her door for what could have been seconds or hours for all the notice he took of the passage of time. After… however long it was, he turned away and headed for the elevator. Suddenly, he felt up to walking to the shop. The air and the exercise might clear his head. 

He felt different, he realised, somehow… brighter. The pain and the guilt and the shame were still there, the sense of unworthiness, the general despair. And yet he couldn’t help feeling that in a world where a woman like that could exist and could live across the hall from him there might also be a place for hope. Hope that maybe he could pull through, that he could make things better, be better. Hope that he could discover what had made her slam the door in his face, in his face, for fuck’s sake —he paused for a moment to examine the reflection of it in a shop window; somewhat worse for wear perhaps, but still devilishly handsome. What had she seen in it that no one else did? She was intriguing, and she was bloody gorgeous, and against all probability it seemed she had relit a spark of vitality in him that he thought had died with Liam. For the first time since his brother’s death, Killian found himself feeling that there might be a chance for him yet. 

*.    *.    *.

Present day…

Killian burst into the apartment with such exuberance that the door nearly leapt off its hinges. “Swan!” he called, striding into the living room where Emma was on the sofa reading a textbook, and pulling his laptop out of his bag, “You’ve got to see this!” 

He opened the computer and presented it to her with a flourish. On the desktop was the home page of the New York Times. 

Green Enterprises Executive Charged With Misappropriation, declared the headline. Neal Cassidy, son-in-law to CEO Peter Green, has been charged with misappropriating company funds, he is being remanded in custody as prosecutors convene a grand jury. 

Emma’s jaw dropped, then she snorted. “I knew he was involved in something shady,” she said, “He couldn’t not be, it’s just who he is.” 

“Well it looks like seeing you again put the fear of the gods into him, love,” said Killian, not even trying to keep the glee out of his voice. “It seems that he had been doing a decent job of hiding his activities, but the day after the fundraiser his pattern changed and he got sloppy. He was trying to cover his tracks, but the bloody idiot only managed to draw attention to himself. He might as well have stood under a big sign that read ‘Criminal Activity Here.’” He grinned at her in satisfaction. “There’s no way Peter Green will let him get away with thievery, that man values loyalty above all else. Tamara has already initiated divorce proceedings. He’ll be persona non grata in every financial centre in the world, even if he avoids jail, which is unlikely given the power and influence of the people he crossed.” He set the laptop aside and pulled Emma into his arms. “I’d still like to punch his arsehole face, but I have to say, as comeuppances go, this one is pretty bloody satisfactory.” 

She remained silent, and he pulled back to look at her. “What are you thinking, love?”

She frowned slightly.“I’m thinking that I should be glad he’s finally got what’s coming to him,” she replied. “But I kinda don’t care. I meant it when I said I’m free from him. If he goes to jail that’ll be justice done, but it’s nothing to me beyond that.”

“You are far too good, my darling,” he said, raising an eyebrow, his grin tinged with malice.  “I intend to revel in his downfall.” 

She laughed and kissed his cheek, then slipped from his arms, sliding to the end of the sofa. He could tell that she had something to say, and needed space to prepare her words. 

“Killian,” she seemed suddenly nervous. “Do you know what today is?”

He did. “Er… Wednesday?” he said teasingly, but she was focused inward and failed to pick up on his tone. 

“Yes, but it’s something else too, kind of an anniversary. I mean, not really but just something you might remember, and—”

He decided to stop teasing, and took her hands in his. “One year ago today was the first night we spent together. Of course I remember, love, how could I not? I’ll never forget kissing you for the first time after years of dreaming about it, it was like all my Christmases had come at once. And as for what came after… well, it will forever remain one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life.” 

She flushed with pleasure at his words and at her own memories, but her expression remained troubled. “I’m so sorry for running away from you the next morning—”

“Darling, you have nothing to apologise for—”

“No, please, let me say this. I never told you why I ran.” 

He opened his mouth, but she shushed him and carried on. 

“I know you think it was because my past with Neal made me scared of getting close to people so I just automatically pushed everyone away, and that’s partly true. But if it had only been that I wouldn’t have run, just kicked you out before you’d even gone to sleep, or at least I would have done that if it had been anyone but you. I’d never fallen asleep with a man before except Neal, and when I woke up that morning, for a minute I didn’t remember what had happened, I only knew that I felt warm and content and— and loved, for the first time in my life. I felt like I belonged with you and I wanted to stay there with you forever, and I’d never felt any of those things before, not ever, not even with Neal. What I felt was stronger than anything I’d felt in my life and I barely even knew you, and that’s what scared me. I ran not because you were the same as the other men I’d been with, it was because you were so different. I just… wanted you to know that.” 

Killian was stunned. Although he knew now that Emma had never hated him as he’d once believed she did, he’d had no idea that she’d felt such a strong connection to him so early on, that the irresistible pull he’d always felt towards her had never been one-sided. He suddenly remembered their first meeting, the brief eye contact, the overwhelming sense of having found the missing piece of himself, quickly dispelled in the face of her blunt rejection. 

“Love,” he said slowly, “Do you remember when we first met, there was, well for me anyway there was a moment…” 

She nodded, looking slightly ashamed. “I remember,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You felt like home. You always have. That’s what scared me most of all.” 

Killian reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a small, blue velvet box, caressing it gently with his thumb. It was old, the nap of the velvet worn thin on the edges. Inside it lay his most prized possession. 

“Emma,” he began, holding the box up where she could see it, not missing her slight intake of breath. “This was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have left of her, the one thing Liam was able to save. My father sold all her other valuables, but this Liam took and hid from him, knowing what a treasure it was. My mother was given it by her grandmother who had also inherited it from her grandmother, going back I don’t even know how far. When Liam died and it came into my possession, I could never have imagined letting go of it, of the one thing that ties me to the mother I can barely remember. I do remember it on her finger, though, and I— I would like nothing more than to see it on yours.” He slid off the sofa and knelt before her, and opened the box. Emma gasped. “I know it’s not a traditional ring but we’re not exactly traditional people, and we’ve certainly not had a traditional courtship. This ring is a symbol of love and family to me, and I love you more than I am able to express, and I want you to be my family. You saved me from the darkness I was mired in when we met, pulled me into the light and into a life so marvellous I could never have envisioned it. I want to be with you every day until I draw my last breath and depart this Earth forever. And so, Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

He looked up at her face. Tears glistened in her eyes, dropping onto her cheeks as she tried to blink them away. She began to nod, swallowing hard, trying to force words through the constriction in her throat. “Yes!” she croaked, “Yes, Killian, yes, yes, yes!” Taking his face between her hands, she slid off the couch to kneel as he was kneeling, and began to kiss him, holding him tightly to her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back until they were both breathless and laughing and he pulled away to take her hand and put the ring on her finger. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. 

“Like its new owner,” he replied with a brilliant smile, “It’s a wild pearl, small but flawless, much like you. Our family legend says that it came from somewhere in the South Sea Islands, what is now called Polynesia, brought back to England by an ancestor who had been a ship’s captain, some said a pirate.”

“Hah,” she said, “I always knew you had some pirate in you.”  

He chuckled. “The stones at the side are Bohemian garnets, added when the pearl was laid in this setting, probably sometime in the late nineteenth century. The ring itself is Welsh gold.”

“Killian, I— I’ll treasure it. I love you so much. I—” Overwhelmed, she kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and toppling him backwards onto the carpet. When she broke the kiss he looked at her quizzically. 

“I love this carpet,” she said, stroking it. “I have since I first saw it, when I went to your place to stop you from leaving, to tell you I loved you. Every time I look at it I think about that day and how I almost lost you, and how I never want to be apart from you again. I want you to make love to me on it now.” 

He growled approvingly deep in his throat and kissed her deeply as he rolled her over onto her back, slipping his leg between hers and running his hand up her side, under her shirt, snapping open her bra and cupping her breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she moaned into his mouth. As he teased her breast she managed to unbutton his shirt and push it insistently off his shoulders. “Get this off,” she demanded, breaking the kiss and giving his shoulders a shove. Reluctantly he released her breast to sit up and pull off the shirt as she turned her attention to his jeans, undoing them in record time and reaching inside to grasp his cock. Now it was his turn to moan, looking down to see her hand adorned with his mother’s ring wrapped around him, stroking his heated flesh. He wondered if it was wrong that he found that insanely erotic. Nudging her off him briefly so he could divest her of her shirt and bra, he leaned down and latched his mouth onto her nipple, nipping it and bathing it with his tongue as she took him in hand again and he slid his own hand between her legs, blessing the stretchy leggings she wore. He stroked her clit with his thumb and slipped two fingers inside her, and her hand on his cock faltered under the onslaught of sensation from his touch. She revelled in it for a moment, riding his hand with small thrusts of her hips, then she pushed him away. “I want to come on your cock,” she panted, and yanked his jeans down over his hips then shimmied out of her leggings as he kicked the jeans away. She pulled him down to her, spreading her thighs wide as he positioned himself between them. 

“Don’t be gentle,” she commanded, “If I don’t have rug burns on my ass when we’re done, I’ll want to know why.” 

“It’ll be because this rug is made of silk,” he purred in her ear. Her laugh ended on a moan as he thrust inside her, heeding her proscription on gentleness, pounding himself into her as he lifted one of her legs under the knee and draped it over his shoulder, angling his hips to hit her in just the right spot. 

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she gasped, lying back and letting him fuck her for several long minutes, her hands flexing in the nap of the carpet before she ran them up her own body and took her breasts in a firm grip, pinching and rolling her nipples as he loved to do. He groaned at the sight of her touching herself, and her eyes flew to his. The combination of intense love and almost feral lust in his expression sent her flying over the edge and she came hard. He fucked her through it, letting her little gasping moans and the feel of her quivering around him drive his pleasure higher. Just as he was about to come she shoved him off her and onto his back. He snarled, and she laughed. “Patience,” she purred, straddling and sinking down onto him in one smooth move. She took his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together above his head, leaning down to give his mouth access to her breasts as she began to ride him. He took her nipple into his mouth again, more roughly this time, sucking it hard between his teeth and dragging his tongue across the compressed tip. Soon she was breathing in short, desperate gasps and she came again within minutes, letting go of his hands and collapsing against his chest. He grabbed her hips and lifted them, slamming them down to meet his as he thrust up into her, again and again, desperate beyond control, until he exploded into an orgasm so strong it was almost painful. 

They lay silent and entwined until their breathing steadied and the sweat dried from their bodies. “Gods, that was magnificent,” said Emma, finally, rolling off him and snuggling against his side, her head on his chest. “We’re sweating all over your silk rug,” she remarked. 

“I don’t care,” he murmured, still coming down from his high, too blissful to give much of a damn about such details. 

She traced random patterns in his chest hair with her fingertips. “Do you think we’ll still have sex like this once we’re married?” she asked, and he felt a stupid grin split his face at her casual use of the m-word. “You don’t think we’ll ever end up just doing lights-out missionary three times a year, do you?”

Killian had a sudden vision of himself and Emma, wrinkled and grey, making each other scream in ecstasy on the floor of a living room he didn’t recognise, in a house they had yet to buy. “No,” he said decidedly. “I do not believe that fate will ever befall us.” 

He could feel her hair brush across his chin as she nodded and her cheek flex against his chest as she smiled. “Good,” she said. 

 *.    *.    *.

~3 1/2 years later…

The wind whipped around Killian, ruffling through his hair and tossing up the collar of his shirt as he manoeuvred his boat out of the mouth of the Hudson and pointed her towards the open sea. It had taken far longer than he’d anticipated to get her ready for this voyage. A year or so’s hard work, he’d once figured, and she’d be set to go. That had been nearly four years ago, since which time life had consistently got in the way of his plans for repair and restoration of his beloved vessel. Yet Killian had no regrets, for the life that had thrown a wrench in his plans was far too good for him to wish it to be in any way different. 

The bright sound of laughter reached his ears and he turned to see Emma standing at the boat’s railing, the tiny blonde source of the gleeful noise perched on her hip. His heart swelled at the sight of them, as it always did. His wife and daughter, the two great loves of his life, his cherished Emma and his darling Hope, who was the symbol of her namesake for him in every imaginable way. Even after three years of marriage, even after Hope’s first birthday celebrated just the week before, Killian sometimes struggled to comprehend that the life he was living was truly his. A tenured professor, a husband, a father, what had he done to deserve to call himself any of those things, a dark voice at the back of his mind still sometimes needled him. Impostor syndrome, Emma called it. 

She had completed her MSW with flying colours and had been working full time at the women’s shelter for over two years. Like him, she still sometimes had doubts about her worthiness for such a role, had days when she felt useless and like nothing she did made a difference, but those days were growing increasingly rare. Emma had really come into her own over the past few years, her confidence in herself and her abilities growing by leaps and bounds as she let go of all the insecurities that had held her back in the past. Killian was absurdly proud of her. 

He needed to follow her example, he thought, to forgive himself for the mistakes of his past and accept that he had earned his life, that he was a far better man than he’d been seven years ago, that Emma and Hope loved him and he made them happy. He was working on it. 

He smiled as Emma came over to him, still laughing with Hope. The little girl held out her arms, the blue eyes she’d inherited from him sparkling merrily. “Daddy,” she said. He took her from her mother, balancing her on his hip with one arm while with the other he continued to steer. “Well, darling,” he said, nuzzling his nose into her blonde curls and breathing in her sweet baby smell, “What do you make of the boat? I hope you like her, as she bears your name.” 

Emma humphed. “I still think we should have called her the Jolly Roger.” 

“Swan—”

“In honour of your pirate heritage, Killian!”

“My very likely apocryphal pirate heritage!” 

“Still.” 

He shook his head in largely feigned exasperation and she grinned, stepping in close and wrapping her arms around her husband and daughter, stroking Hope’s hair and resting her chin on Killian’s shoulder. He turned his head to press a kiss on her cheek. 

And so the Swan-Jones family set out together for an adventure at sea, aboard the Lady Hope. 

-------

“I didn’t exactly know that he was a fairy tale question at that moment,” Emma defended.  “I just thought he was a pawnbroker.”

“What did he want from you?” Killian questioned. “He never makes deals without wanting something else.”

“He wanted me to go to New York to find his son,” Emma said softly.

“And you just agreed to go, no questions asked?” Killian wondered.

“Well, no,” Emma said with a blush. “He threatened to go after you if I didn’t. You were in the hospital and I didn’t want him to kill you.”

He smirked at her as he placed his arm around her. She shook her head, but leaned slightly into his warmth.

“It’s not like I knew at the time when I was making the deal. He just said he wanted a favour for some time in the future,” Emma shrugged.

“You would have if you believed me about the curse,” Henry said pointedly. She knew her son was joking around with her as he mentioned her unwillingness to accept the curse.

“Even Jefferson wasn’t able to convince you,” Her mother said with a shake of her head. “To be fair, kidnapping isn’t the best way to prove that you’re right, and not crazy.”

“What are you talking about?” Killian asked with a frown. Emma shook her head, hoping her parents wouldn’t tell him. If they did, she knew she would panic.

Unfortunately, her mother had never known subtly.

“Jefferson kidnapped Emma and I. He wanted her to make his hat work and he refused to let us leave until we did so. Fortunately we got away,” Snow said. She took a look at Emma’s face and realised, “I wasn’t supposed to say that was i?”

“Emma, why didn’t you tell me that you were kidnapped?” Killian asked her furiously. “Who does this Mad Hatter think he is?”

He stood up suddenly and started to leave the diner. Emma handed her brother over to her parents and followed him out of the diner.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked him as she caught up to him.

“To go find him!” Killian said. He didn’t have to go far, seeing how Jefferson and Grace were headed towards the diner for their own family brunch.

Emma tried to stop him, but Killian was too fast. He walked over to where Jefferson was and punched him right in the face.

Emma rolled her eyes as she looked at a distraught Grace, “Go into the diner. Henry’s there,” Emma told the girl who was clearly confused about what was happening.

“Ow, man what was that for?” Jefferson as he held his nose.

“For kidnapping Emma!” Killian said angrily. He looked like he was going to go in for another punch when Emma pulled his hand back.

Jeferson raised his hands and tried to back away from him.

“Killian, you don’t need to do this,” Emma said. She stood in front of him and made sure he was looking directly at her. “I don’t condone what Jefferson did, but he only did it because he wanted to get his daughter back. He did it so he could be with his family.” She held his face in her palms. “I’m safe now though, okay?”

Jefferson seemed to realise what was happening and why Killian was after him, “Look, I’m sorry for everything I did! Haven’t you ever done bad things as means to an end? I just wanted her to accept that she had magic so she could make my hat work. I was right though, wasn’t I? You do have magic. You just needed something to believe in.”

Killian seemed to calm down, but he still glared at the Hatter. “Don’t think that I’m going to forget all this again. If you so much as look as Emma the wrong way then I will come after you,” Killian threatened. “You’d be wise to keep that in mind.”

Jefferson nodded with a sly smile on his face, “I’ll keep that in mind. Now if it’s all good with you, I’m hungry.”

Jefferson pushed past them as he joined his daughter in the diner.

“What was that about?” Emma asked him gently.

“I don’t like the idea of someone hurting you,” Killian told her softly. “I want to be able to protect you all the time. I know you’re strong and that you don’t need someone to fight your battles for you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to stop fighting for you. I love you, and I will always be there for you as long as you want me in your life.”

She kissed him tenderly, bringing him in closer. Her arms wrapped themselves around his waist. His hand curled in her hair.

“I love you too,” Emma said as she pulled away a bit from him. “I love that you fight for me and I love that you’re always there for me regardless of the situation.”

He pressed another kiss on her lips, and the two of them stayed together like that for a bit longer. She spent so long running away from everyone, to be her own saviour and to stop relying on others. But being here with him changed all that. She enjoyed the warmth of his arms and how safe she felt in them.

“So, are you planning on telling me that you’re dating Killian?” Henry asked as he took a bite of his waffle. He had it topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“I-well-we’re not officially together,” Emma stammered, clearly not prepared for the question. Killian seemed unsure of the terminology Emma was using. “We’re taking it one day at a time, and we’re going to see where it goes.”

“But we’ll do it together,” Killian said, giving her a smile as he squeezed her hand.

Emma gave him a grateful smile back, “Together. Henry, I hope you’re okay with this,” she said softly.“I know it hasn’t exactly been long since your father died-”

“But the two of you weren’t suited?” Henry asked. “I get it. Every kid wishes they could believe that their parents love each other and will stay together, but at the same time, you wouldn’t have been happy with him.

“Basically,” Emma said gently. “He makes me happy.” Killian’s eyes lit up at that, and she held his hand a bit tighter under the table.

“Good,” Henry said with a smile.

She knew she would eventually have to tell her parents, but they were busy with Neal, and truth be told, she was avoiding it. The last thing she wanted was a huge confrontation with them. She didn’t know how they would take it. Emma knew for a fact that her mother really wanted her with Neal, and she knew her father seemed to go with it. Telling her parents could wait a few days.

Emma was about to take a sip of her coffee when she felt the diner begin to freeze slightly. She looked up and saw that the windows had frozen completely. Everyone began to murmur curiously, wondering what happened.

The door blasted open, and Emma stood immediately, trying to see who was there. She half expected it to be Regina, wanting to get revenge for Emma bringing back Marian, but she had seen the woman a few moments ago, drinking coffee in the diner. She looked more depressed than she did vengeful.

There was a blonde standing at the door, wearing a flashy blue dress which tailed long down behind her. She looked furious, and the items near where her hands rested had begun to freeze.

“Who did it?”  The lady asked furiously. “Who was it who trapped me in that item? And where are we? This is not Arendelle.”

Emma began to push her way to the front of the diner, asking Henry to stay with Ruby. Killian followed behind her and Regina close by after him.

“Who are you,” Emma asked calmly. “And what is it you’re talking about?”

“You know who I am,” The lady snarled. “That was why you did it; that was why you trapped me. Obviously you were threatened by me having a bit of magic, and the cowards you are, took the easiest way out.”

“No, we don’t,” Emma explained. “Look, I don’t know how long you were in that item you claimed trapped you, but the people here are from realms far and wide. If someone did trap you, they could be here, but you need to calm down, and we’ll find them.” People had begun to crowd around her, trying to see what was happening.

“I don’t trust you,” the lady yelled. “All of you people are the same. You get freaked out by things you cannot explain. Now, I’ll give you one chance to tell me who it was who trapped me, and no one else will get hurt.”

“Look, you little witch, listen to Emma. We don’t even know who you are!” Regina yelled. “Now, stop making it cold, and either leave, or calm the hell down.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she yelled. She raised her hand, and a block of ice hit Regina square in the chest. The people in the diner began freaking out, and started trying to run out through the back. She could hear a lot of yelling, but couldn’t make out what anyone was saying.

“Whoa, Lady, please calm down,” Emma said. “Look, there are laws in this land; you can’t just go around hurting people because you’re scared or confused.”

Most of the diner had cleared out, but a few people were still around. She could still hear a bit of screaming, and she turned to see who it was.

“Elsa, please calm down,” a redhead called out, as she pushed her way to the front of the diner.

“Anna?” the lady asked, as her hands immediately fell to her sides. Emma could feel the cool air slowly return back to the normal state.

“Elsa, it was Hans,” Anna said, a few tears. “You were right, he was completely wrong for me. He trapped you and gave the object away to someone in a far realm; the Dark One. And then he tried to kill me to take the throne. He’s not here in this land; or if he is, I haven’t found him yet.”

The lady, Elsa, immediately wrapped her arms around her sister.

“These people are good,” Anna said softly. “They can help you learn to control your magic. I know that’s why you left; you were scared you would hurt someone.”

Elsa looked at Emma and Killian, slightly untrustingly.

“We won’t hurt you,” Killian said carefully.

“I have magic, and so does she,” Emma said, gesturing to Regina. “We could train you. That way you would have control of your powers and wouldn’t have to be scared of them.”

Elsa nodded slightly, “Okay. But keep in mind, if I find Hans, I will hurt him.”

Emma shrugged, “From what I hear, he’s a real asshole; so go ahead.”

She could hear Henry rush forward, “That’s so cool! You control the snow! Do you think you could make an ice skating rink or something once you can control your powers???”

Elsa looked taken aback, “If that is something you wish, I should be able to do it.”

Everything was working out as well as could be, until that morning. When her boyfriend woke up and found that she wasn’t in bed, and heard the shower running, he had the great idea of joining her in it. Little did he know that it wasn’t her in the shower, as she was downstairs, bottle feeding her little brother while her mother slept and her father was in the shower.

When she heard the scream, she ran upstairs, to see her boyfriend nakedly standing in the shower, beside her father, who was covered only by a towel. David had been furious, as he realised just who Killian had been hoping to find in the shower.

Emma hadn’t been sure about whether she should laugh or cry. The situation was so weird, and part of her wanted to just close the door and walk out, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing. But she realised one thing, they needed to find a new apartment.

“I know you are, Killian,” Emma said with a smile. “But you must admit it is time I finally moved out. It’s getting far too cramped in here, and if I do, they can turn my room into a nursery and Henry’s old room into a guest room. It would definitely save them some space. It just feels a bit surreal, doesn’t it? I never thought I would have the opportunity to move out of my parent’s home.”

“I should go then,” Killian said. His face had a bit of a rough expression as he stood up to leave.

“Where are you going?” Emma asked confused. “I was hoping you would help me look.”

“I was going to go ask Granny if I could get my old room back,” her boyfriend said gruffly.

“Why?” Emma asked, a hint of fear creeping into her voice. Was he planning on leaving her?

“Because clearly you haven’t considered what would happen to me in your plans!” Killian snapped. “If you move out of your parents’ house, then what do I do? Clearly I can’t stay here without you. I’m sorry I stepped in when your father was in the shower, but I didn’t think you would end everything so suddenly.”

A few tears slipped down her face. She stood up and cupped his face, “I’m sorry, I thought you understood what I was saying. Killian, when I said it was time for me to move out, I meant that I want to get a place somewhere, with you. I want us to have our own home. I want us to be able to build a life together, with each other, and be a family. I didn’t mean that I wanted to end our relationship. You’ve been so amazing, and I never want it to end between us. You’re one of the best things that have ever happened to me; how could I ever want that to end?”

His eyes widened when he realised what she had meant, and he immediately had regret written across his face, “Emma, I’m so sorry,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her. “I jumped to conclusions. I should have known better. I would love to get a place with you, if you still want me.”

She pulled him in for a deep kiss, hoping it would give him her answer, and he relaxed in her arms.

~ ES & KJ ~

Emma sighed as they walked into the apartment that they were going to view next. She, Killian, and Henry had already been to several that day, and none of them were working out. There was something wrong with each of them; the rooms are too small, the neighbours seem really mean, the place is too far away from town, it smells funny. She had told them both in the car that this was the last one they were viewing for the day, and if they hated it, they would just have to keep looking tomorrow.

Henry had been ecstatic the moment he saw the location of the apartment. It was closer to the edge of the town, but by the docks, and he said he loved the smell of the water, causing Killian to ‘Aye’ in agreement. Her son bounced up all the stairs to the fourth floor, unwilling to take the elevator, and stopped once they reached apartment 426.

She opened the door, and was immediately stunned by the spacious living room area. The room had a few nice leather couches already set up and there was a large television against the wall. In the left side of the room was a big kitchen, with dark cherry cabinets, and marble counters.

“Can I go see the bedrooms?” Henry asked eagerly. When Emma nodded, he took off towards the one he presumed to be his, leaving Emma and Killian to check out the master bedroom, something they knew the location of due to the blueprints they had seen in the car.

Killian walked into the room first, and stopped immediately, causing Emma to bump straight into him.

“Why did you do that?” Emma asked. She looked over his shoulder, and saw that the room was rather large in size. There was a huge walk in closet, with the door to it currently open, and the bed was king sized. But those weren’t the things that caught his attention. Right beside the bed was a window facing out over the docks. She could tell he liked the idea of being close by the water.

“Do you like it?” Emma asked him carefully, wondering what he would think. He had assured her on several occasions that he never regretted giving up his ship, but she often wondered if he missed his life at sea. He had three hundred years’ worth of adventures, and now he was a domestic pirate. It couldn’t be an easy transition.

“I think it’s wonderful, Love,” Killian said with a smile. “I could see us living here together, and having a few children running around.”

“A few children?” Emma asked with a laugh. “Last I checked, we only had Henry.”

“What do you think the bed is for, Lass?” he asked her wolfishly.

She grinned, about to retort, when her son ran into the room. “Mom, can we get the place? Please, Killian? It’s absolutely wonderful here. My room’s so large!”

Emma smiled, as she slipped her hand through Killian’s.

“I think it’s a beautiful place, and Killian likes it too. I’ll talk to Rumplestiltskin in the morning about signing a lease, and we can move in after that. How does that sound?” Emma asked.

“I think we should celebrate with ice cream!” Henry said enthusiastically.

“After dinner,” Killian said with a smile. “Shall we go tell your parents that we found a new place? So that way they won’t have to worry about anymore incidents, to say in the least.”

She took his hands in hers, and winced as she realised she could have phrased it better, “I’m not leaving,” she said softly, and his face calmed slightly. “I thought I would go back there, and I left most of the things we have in my apartment, and I just need to go up there for a few days to get all my stuff, and to let Henry say goodbye to all of his friends there. I promise, I’ll come back. I wasn’t lying when I said that my home is here now, with you, with my parents and brother, with my son. I’ll come back to you.”

He relaxed at that, “Good,” he breathed, as he placed a kiss on her lips. “I couldn’t bear it if you left. I don’t know how I can go for a few days without seeing you.”

Emma placed a phone in his hands, “This land has a piece of technology which can let you call people, a phone. I know you’re familiar with them to a degree, but I want to teach you how to call me on it, so whenever you want to talk to me, you can do it. I already put my number in it, and all you have to do is find it.”

She spent a few hours teaching him how to call her, and while she tried to teach him a few other things like texting, or picking up calls, or even how to download an app, those went a bit more poorly.

When the next day came, and it was time for her to leave, she felt a pang in her chest. Henry was slightly excited, knowing he had left a lot of his video games back in New York, but seeing Killian standing there, waiting to see her off made her heart break. Emma pulled him into a tight kiss, holding on to him. He didn’t let go either, and she could tell that he was just as reluctant to do so. She wanted to stay there, and bury her head deep into his chest and stay there. He was so warm, so comforting, and she hated being away from him.

They were barely out of Storybrooke when he called her for the first time, “Emma?” He asked, his voice slightly louder than the norm.

She had placed him on speakerphone, “I’m here, Killian,” she said softly.

“I miss you already, Love,” he said, and his voice sounded like it was full of sorrow.

“I miss you too. I promise that I’ll be home soon,” Emma said.

“Is Henry there too?” he asked, and Henry immediately answered with a quick ‘hi’. The pirate began asking him questions on how phones worked, not wanting to disturb Emma, seeing how she was busy ‘Captaining a land ship’.

It was exactly three hours later when he called again. It was still early in the afternoon, and Emma and Henry just pulled over at a Burger King to get some lunch.

“Emma?” He asked, as if he were still unsure of whether he would hear her voice or not.

“Killian,” she breathed, and her son rolled his eyes at her. “I’m here. How are you?”

“Terribly lonely, Lass. According to your parents, I’ve been moping around their place for the better part of the last few hours, and they told me to call you. Emma, I miss you,” he said, and his voice made her heart hurt.

“I miss you so much, Killian. I just want to be with you,” Emma said, earning her knowing smile from her son.

“As do I, Love. When you come home, I’m going to take you and your son to dinner. I’m going to kiss you, and I’m going to hold you in my arms,” Killian said, and she could hear a faint smile. “I’ll let you go now, and I’ll call you in a few.”

He had called her five times, every three hours, and they had a conversations lasting a few moments each time. Killian told her all the things he wanted to do with her, from showing her the stars, to walking together and talking.

She glanced at her dashboard, and saw that it had been three hours since his last call, but nothing. She was pulling into the parking garage of her apartment, and when they got to their loft, Henry went to his room to change into some pyjamas, while Emma placed her phone on the counter. She hadn’t intended to, but she ended up staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. Slowly, it became three and a half hours since their last phone call, then four.

“Why don’t you just call him?” Henry asked, as he paused his video game.

“I tried teaching him how to pick up calls, and he didn’t quite grasp it,” Emma said with a frown. “He always ended up declining the call.

“Seriously, Mom. It’s obvious that you want to talk to him,” Henry said, as he came over to grab two bowls of ice cream, something which he insisted on picking up at the store. “You never did this with Walsh, and I doubt you did with any other guy. What you feel for Killian must be stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before.”

She looked at her son, “Would that bother you? I know before you were fine with me and Walsh, but that was before you remembered your father.”

“Mom, I might have wanted you with Dad, but that’s because every kid wants their parents together. I’d be lying if I said I thought you two would work. You really don’t and I realised that in Neverland. Maybe you fit once upon a time, but you don’t anymore. But you and Killian just click. Besides, he treats me really well, and he doesn’t have to. He’s a really good guy,” Henry said.

She stared down at her phone, as it lit up, with a chime of a text.

Killian: Sorry I didn’t call, Love. I’ve been trying to master this phone. Your father taught me how to text now! :) Did you know that’s a smiley face? It’s supposed to convey emotion.

Emma smiled as she read what her boyfriend wrote. He would get excited over emoticons. There was another chime and she read it.

Killian: I miss you, Emma. Words cannot properly convey the pain I feel to not be with you.

Emma: I miss you too, Killian. Call me? I want to hear your voice.

Less than a few seconds later, her phone began ringing. Her son put his bowl in the sink and gave her a kiss goodnight as she picked up the call.

They talked for a few hours that night, and Killian told her how David was trying to properly teach him everything. Apparently he ended up annoying her parents as he sat around their place waiting for her, and her father wanted to show him how to send a text so he could do it more often. It had taken him a while to master, seeing as he only had one hand, but he learned it soon enough.

Two days later, when everything was all packed up, and Emma and Henry hit the road, she felt a surge flowing through her. They drove most of the way straight home, and as soon as she stepped out of the car, she threw her arms around Killian’s neck. He had been waiting for her, with a bright grin, and she held on tightly, as her lips pressed against his.

“For God’s sake,” Regina said, as she hugged her son. “You two are so much worse that your parents, Emma. I thought the pirate would die of a lonely heart without you.”

Emma smiled as she looked at him, “Did you think of me?” she asked, teasing him with what he said the last time she had to leave him behind, when she left to escape Pan’s curse.

“Every day,” Killian breathed, as he pulled her in tighter. “Bloody hell, Emma, I missed you so much.”

  I’m always a gentleman.

Exhaling a rattling breath, Killian Jones leans against the closed door of his rented room and listens to the sound of Emma Swan walking away, and never have his past words rung quite so mockingly in his thoughts. 

Bloody buggering good form, indeed.

He closes his eyes.  Perhaps it’s for the best that they have parted company, at least for tonight, he tells himself. Beneath the exhilaration of his new intimacy with Emma, he is exhausted, wearied to the bone, gritty-eyed and footsore.  He’s dreamed so very long of being with her, pleasuring her, laying his heart at her feet.  If she does indeed plan to honour him with her presence in his bedchamber now that they have reached a new understanding, he intends to be fully rested.

It’s a noble resolve, but it doesn’t stop him wanting her with the ferocity of the fiercest sun. 

He touches his fingertips to his lips, still incredulous at this evening’s turn of events.  He’d given her privacy to reunite with her family, knowing how wretched she’d felt at the loss (however temporary) of her mother, but she’d come in search of him.  She’d sought him out, speaking to him with soft words and gazing at him with soft eyes.  She’d told him he was a hero and thanked him, calling him by his true name, then finally asked the question he’d been both dreading and eagerly awaiting.  Finally, the secret that had been burning a hole in his heart had been hers to do with as she’d wished, and his gut had tightened as the realisation of what he’d done dawned in her eyes. 

You traded your ship for me?

There were so many things he’d wanted to say to her then.  Beg her, perhaps, to understand that he hadn’t done so with an eye to make her beholden to him, that he would have been happy for her to never learn what he’d given up in exchange for the chance to help her reclaim her true identity.  That he would do it all again if it meant she was happy.  That he would give up everything he had if it meant she was safe.

Not one of those words had come, though.  The time for jokes and japes had long passed, and he’d seen the craving for the simple truth burning in her eyes, those eyes that always seemed to see into the very heart of him.

And so he’d given her the plain truth.

She hadn’t said a word.  Instead she’d simply kissed him, a kiss that was soft and sweet and filled with all the words that have long lain dormant between them, and his world had tilted on its axis, his horizons tilted and resettling into a brave new world where Emma Swan gave him reason to hope for a happy ending. 

A hero’s journey, indeed.

When her fingers had tenderly stroked the nape of his neck and tangled in his hair, he’d felt as though he could fly.  When she’d pulled back and smiled at him, her eyes shining with the same joyous disbelief coursing through his own veins, he’d known that his feet would never touch the ground again.  He’d kissed her again, his hand tangling in her bright tumble of hair, drinking in the sweet heat of her mouth, painfully aware that she’d shifted closer, letting her knee slip between his.  He’d held her close many a time during their recent adventure - many variations on the complicated dance that has always been their lot to negotiate – but this had been something quite different.  This had been simply a man and a woman finding pleasure in each other, and the erotic simplicity of the slow, lazy kisses had stolen his breath and his voice.

Finally, finally, she pulls back, her left hand splayed wide on his chest, the other resting on his knee. “We should go in.”  Her voice is faintly unsteady, a perfect match for his hammering heart. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

“I suspect they’ll both assume and fear the worst as to where we are, Swan.”  He rubs his thumb along the delicate curve of her jaw, then the soft swell of her bottom lip.  “At least, I suspect your father will.”

“He does actually like you, you know.”  She laughs softly, turning her head to catch his thumb between her white teeth, making his gut clench with a hot, aching twist of need.  “Despite the occasional punch in the face.”

He smiles. “He certainly liked Prince Charles.”

Her answering chuckle warms his blood.  “And you’re never going to let him forget it, are you?”

“You know me, Swan.”  He stands, loathe to disturb the sense of private intimacy that’s settled upon them, but knowing it’s the proper thing to do.  “I’m not a man to ignore an opportunity when it’s handed to me on a silver platter.”

She takes the hand he’s offering her, tangling her fingers with his as she rises to her feet, coming to stand toe to toe and almost nose to nose with him.  “Especially by a prince, right?”

She’s teasing, he knows that, but he can’t stop the words from coming. “He’s your father, Swan, and he loves you.”  Releasing her hand, he lifts his own to toy with the silky strands of golden hair tumbling over her shoulders.  “I’ll take any opportunity to impress the man.”

Her gaze is locked with his, but she doesn’t seem to be searching for the truth of his words in his eyes. “I think it’s more my mother we’ll have to work on,” she murmurs lightly, and he’s still processing the larger picture her teasing words entail as she sways on her feet towards him, the exertion of the last several hours seeming to catch up with her all in an instant.  His knuckles inadvertently brush against the curve of her breast (he hasn’t been able to stop himself from touching the soft fall of her hair) and a flash of heat shoots up the back of his neck.  He’s never touched her thus, only in his dreams, but she merely gives him a tremulous smile.  “We should get inside before someone comes looking for us.”

They kiss one last time, his hand sliding down her back to rest low above the tempting swell of her arse, and he feels her tremble against him, the brush of her thighs against his more arousing than any of the bare-arsed rolls in the sheets he’s seen fit to enjoy in the past.  He lifts his head, his senses swimming with the taste and scent of her, and eases himself away slightly.  “Perhaps a celebratory drink is in order,” he mutters, and she taps his chest with the back of her hand in a gentle rebuke, and he grins. “Still a pirate, love,” and her eyes light up.

“I’m counting on it,” she shoots back, the intent gleaming in her eyes enough to make him stumble on the cobblestones as he follows her to the front entrance of the diner. He thinks of the way she’d kissed him - the past him, the man he used to be – on the Jolly Roger, and his pulse quickens, a maelstrom of emotions tightening his chest.  Befuddled by a slip of a girl (woman) at every turn until he’s all at sea, he thinks, and he’s never been happier to have been outmanoeuvred in his life.

Of course, once they’d rejoined the others (and resumed their babysitting duties of Regina’s erstwhile prisoner), it had all come asunder.  The woman had been revealed to be Loxley’s presumed dead wife and mother of his child, and Killian’s heart had sunk at the realisation that he and Emma had been responsible for invoking the Queen’s cold, dark fury.  Before his very eyes, he’d seen the fight go out of Emma, her shoulders slumping as she took on the blame Regina was all too quick to pile upon her, and he had not been able to hold his tongue.

What a mess, Emma had said, and she’d been quite right. The thought of Loxley knowing that he’d been wooing (and more, surely) the woman who’d had his wife put to death was enough to make Killian wince in sympathy, especially after seeing the beseeching look that the man had given Regina as she’d left the celebrations early.  Loxley had given his heart to the Queen, and now its original owner had come to reclaim what was once hers. It’s enough to make his own life feel relatively uncomplicated, at least for the moment.

He moves slowly about his room, cataloguing the aches and pains that gradually make themselves felt.  Emma’s absence is a hollow ache, scratching at his very bones, but he’s a practical man, and he will make the best of his solitude.  He’s eaten and drunk his fill this evening, now he intends to spend the next few hours sleeping like the dead.  Actually, he thinks as he shrugs off his coat and tosses it onto the bed, now he needs to bathe, because he feels as though he is carrying the grime of not one but two realms. 

Sinking down onto the bed, he pulls off his boots, then his woollen socks.  As he absentmindedly removes his rings and places them on the nightstand, his gaze falls upon the black bag (it’s called a gym bag, apparently, although that stirs his curiosity even further) that the Prince had forced upon him a few days earlier.  He’d thought it strange at the time, perhaps even a little insulting, but tonight he looks at it with new eyes, remembering his dealings with Emma’s future father in the guise of Prince Charles, and is grateful for it.  The Prince is fiercely protective of his family, and if a few items of clothing and strangely scented lotions can possibly be seen as a sign of approval, then Killian is bloody well going to take it.

He chooses a hot bath over the practice known as showering in this realm. While he’s long come to terms with the modern contraption that Granny’s communal bathrooms provides (and appreciated it greatly), tonight the lure of soaking in steaming hot water is too much to resist.  Such a luxury was hard to come by in his former life, and while he’s quite sure he’d enjoy it tenfold were Emma still with him, he’s quick to embrace the opportunity to soak his weary limbs.

The hot water is perhaps too soothing.  He falls asleep in the tub, waking with a start and a splash and a faintly panicked sense of disorientation.  “Bloody hell,” he mutters, swiping his hand across his wet face.  There’s no clock in the bathrooms, of course, so he has no idea of how long he’s been in here, but the water is tepid now, and he suspects he’s running the risk of another lodger complaining to the landlord about his lengthy stay.  Thinking longingly of his bed (he can’t help wishing he wasn’t heading for it alone, but that’s the lay of the land this evening) he dries himself quickly and redresses in his usual trousers and shirt, intending to make use of the Prince’s cast-offs when he prepares for sleep. On his way back to his room, however, he runs into a familiar face in the corridor, and greets him politely.

“You and your family are lodging here this evening?”

Robin of Loxley nods, his expression unreadable.  “It seemed the best solution to a rather unique situation.”

“Ah.”  Killian finds himself suddenly at a loss for words, which is truly a rare event, but really, what can he say that might improve matters?  “You and your lad have been staying with the Lady Mayor, I take it?”

“Now and then.”  Loxley runs a restless hand through his hair.  “We’ve also been camping near the town line with my men, but I can hardly ask my wife to do either of those things.”  He fumbles over the word wife, and Killian feels a kinship he’d rather not feel.  Neal’s alive.  That’s right, the man Emma loves.  He’s here, in Neverland.

Bloody hell.

As much in hope of distracting himself as well as offering comfort, he puts out his hand to stop Loxley from continuing on his way. “You look like you could stand a drink, mate.”   Killian gestures towards the stairway that leads to the diner.  “And perhaps an ear to bend?”

The gratitude in the other man’s eyes is almost painful to witness. “You have no idea, but I do believe they’re about to close for the night downstairs.”

“And my own supply is running worryingly low.”  The widow Lucas is far from a soft touch, but perhaps her granddaughter might be more hospitable towards paying guests with a wish to imbibe after-hours.  “Never fear, I have an idea.”  He waves a joking hand at his bare feet.  “Just give me a moment to make myself respectable.”

Robin smiles for the first time since their conversation had begun. “From what I’ve heard, I suspect that would take more than a few minutes.”

They find themselves in the small courtyard where, only a few hours earlier he’d held Emma in his arms while she’d kissed him.  The she-wolf Ruby had fixed them with a gimlet eye at first, then seemed to take pity on them.  On Loxley, in any case.  “Just clear away the empty bottle and glasses when you’re done,” she’d instructed them sternly, “or else Granny will string you both up without batting an eyelid.”

He’d smiled at her, wondering if she and Emma have had the chance to discuss the matter of Princess Leia and Prince Charles.  Judging by the scowl she’d giving him, perhaps not. “I don’t doubt that.”

Now he and Robin are sitting in the cold night air and Killian vaguely wishes he’d taken the time to towel dry his hair more thoroughly, but the rum will soon take care of the chill.  He pours them both a generous measure, then lifts his glass.  “I hesitate to propose a toast, but -” 

Robin’s smile is melancholy.  “To life.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The booze burns a pleasant path over his tongue and down his throat, and he sinks back into his chair.  “Your wife, is she well?  Has she recovered from the shock as yet?”

The other man throws back his drink in one gulp, then also leans back in his seat.  “Yes and no.”  He reaches for the bottle, then seems to think better of it, putting both hands flat on the table.  “She’s overjoyed to be with us, just as I was overjoyed to see her alive and well.”  He glances at Killian quickly, then looks away again, his gaze fixed on a distant point on the horizon.  “The shock of it all, well, that’s another matter entirely.”

Killian pours another drink for both of them, then clears his throat. “And has she told you how we came to meet her in the Enchanted Forest?”

Robin nods. “She has indeed.”  His expression is pained, and he reaches for his glass with a faintly trembling hand.  “To say that I’d never imagined finding myself in such a predicament is something of an understatement.”

Killian sips at his rum, content to savour it now that the sharp edges of his thirst have been quenched. “The Regina you know now is a very different woman to the one who imprisoned your dear wife.”

“I know.” The other man sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes with long fingers.  “I fear that make this situation even worse.”  He gives Killian a look of quiet despair.  “If I didn’t know her heart, if I didn’t know the good that dwells within her, this would be much easier.”

“Easier if she was still the Evil Queen,” Killian murmurs, and Robin nods. 

“Precisely.  And the fact that I wasn’t able to speak to her about what happened tonight-” He breaks off, shaking his head, his glass cradled in his hands.  “I saw her face when she was speaking to yourself and Emma.”  He closes his eyes.  “I’ve hurt her badly, and I have no idea what I am going to do about it.”

“Mate, if there’s one thing you need to remember, it’s that you haven’t done a thing to hurt her.”  Killian taps his fingers on his own glass, trying to find the right words.  “We saved an innocent woman from certain death and brought her to Storybrooke, and the result is your current dilemma, I’m afraid.”  He manages to catch Robin’s gaze.  “She’s your wife and you loved her deeply.  If you had been at all dismayed to find her still alive, then you wouldn’t be the same man who’d won Regina’s heart.”

“I love Marian.”  Robin stares down at his glass, as if it might hold the answers to his plight. They both know it doesn’t, of course, but that’s never stopped a melancholy man from trying. “But Regina-” He hesitates, as though to speak the words aloud is testament to adultery.  These are unique circumstances, however, and Killian has no qualms about prompting him.

“You love her.”

“Gods help me, I do.”  Robin finishes off the rum in his glass.  “But enough of this wallowing in self-pity,” he says flatly. “My son has his mother again and my wife is sleeping upstairs in a warm, soft bed, and that is what matters.” 

“Ah, but affairs of the heart are never quite that simple, mate.”

Robin looks at him. “And what of your affairs of the heart? Judging by the way the sheriff was clutching your hand earlier this evening, it seems your adventure into the past achieved rather more than just saving Marian’s life.”

“Aye.” Killian doesn’t bother to fight the wide smile that touches his lips. “The Lady Swan and I have reached a new understanding.”

Robin looks impressed. “I’d imagine she was a tough lass to win over.”

Killian chuckles.  “Says the man who was courting the Evil Queen.”  As soon as he’s said the words, he wants to bite his tongue. “Sorry mate, probably not the best joke, giving the circumstances.”

Robin shrugs.  “It’s the truth, man, and there’s no denying it.”  He sighs heavily, and once again rubs his eyes.  “It’s my dream and nightmare combined, with broken promises no matter which way I turn.”  He looks at Killian with tired eyes.  “What would you do?”

There’s a sudden lump in Killian’s throat.  “What do you mean?”

“You’d loved before, yes?  In the other realm?”

Killian swallows hard, but the lump in his throat remains, choking his voice. “Aye.”  There is still rum in his glass, but the thought of drinking it suddenly turns his stomach.  “But she died long ago.”

“How?”

“She was the wife of the Dark One.”  Killian is astounded at the ordinariness of the words.  “Before he was the Dark One, of course.”

Robin’s staring at him now, enthralled.  Whatever he and Regina have discussed in their private time together, it obviously hasn’t been the ancient history of the denizens of the town.  “What happened?”

“We made the mistake of crossing his path several years later.  He ripped out her heart and crushed it into dust.”  Again, Killian feels as though he’s telling the tale of a horror that befell a different man.  “She died in my arms.”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Hell’s bells, man. My apologies, I had no idea-”

Killian waves his hand, feeling a familiar darkness pricking at the edges of his thoughts.  “'Twas a long time ago.” They sit in silence for a long moment, then Robin speaks. 

“My question still stands, though.”  He looks at Killian.  “If you were in my situation, if the woman you’d loved but thought long dead suddenly returned at a time when you’d found happiness with another, what would you do?”

Bitterness burns at the back of Killian’s throat, a sour taste that has nothing to do with the rum.  There is no easy answer he can give to that question that doesn’t betray a heart, including his own.  Milah is long gone, deep in the arms of Poseidon for scores of years now, and nothing will ever bring her back.  He’d told Loxley that affairs of the heart are never simple, but Milah is gone and he is still here, and his heart and soul now belong to another.  “There’s no right or wrong here, mate,” he says softly, deflecting the question as politely as he can manage.  “It’s a bloody mess however you look at it, but the people you love are alive and well, rather than rotting in a box or lost to the tide.”   He pushes away his half-empty glass, knowing there is no more comfort for either of them to find in a grog bottle tonight.  “You should join your family, mate.  Enjoy the second chance you’ve been given.  Tomorrow will be here soon enough.” 

Robin rises to his feet, then claps him on the shoulder.  “My gratitude to you, Captain.”  He takes a step away, then stops.  “Perhaps the next time we share a drink, it will be in less fraught circumstances.”

Killian smiles at him, suddenly feeling every one of his years.  “I look forward to it.”

  ~*~

He dreams.

He dreams of Milah, her dark hair streaming as dark as blood over the wooden planks of the Jolly as she gasped her last.  He dreams of the white shroud that had hidden her face from his eyes as she’d slipped into the sea.

He dreams of Liam, the strong clasp of his brother’s hand on his shoulder (I’ll look after you now, Killian), the agonised scream that dies on his lips and is reborn in Killian’s own voice, screaming into the abyss, honour rewarded with death, dishonour rewarded with the most aching of loneliness. 

He dreams of Emma, her golden hair tossed asunder by the turbulence of the witch’s portal, her lips mouthing words he cannot hear as he begs her not to leave him, not to slip from his grip (useless, useless, one-handed pirate) and fall into the darkness.

He dreams of Emma falling through the portal, the dark earth closing over her head before he can reach her, stealing her from his sight, the hard ground solid and unforgiving and cold beneath his hand and hook as he frantically digs, his fingertips bleeding, his throat raw with the horror of losing her.

When he wakes with a violent jolt, his face is wet with tears. For the second time that night, he finds himself wiping a hand over his damp face, trying to get his bearings. 

“Bloody hell.”

Throwing back the covers, he suddenly wants to banish the darkness pressing in on him.  These are the nights when he misses the Jolly the most, when the solid floor beneath his feet taunts him with its stillness, and the thick curtains block out the stars and moon’s glow, making it so that a man could be anywhere in the realms and never find his way home.

Shunning the electric lights (he still marvels at their existence, however there are times when he craves the comfort of the familiar), he lights two of the many candles he'd placed about the room.  There are no ghosts in the room, of course, only in his nightmares.  He sits on the edge of his bed, scrubbing his hand across his face.  It has been an age since the familiar visions of grief and loss have disturbed his dreams, and that they should return when he’s on the brink of taking a step into a strange new life is painfully ironic.  Dreaming of Emma in a fashion that doesn’t involve her naked in his arms is also something new, and he returns to the scant details of the dream that he can recall, worrying over it like a dog with a bone. 

She’s safe, he tells himself.  She’s sleeping peacefully in her bed, surrounded by her family.  She’s safe and he will see her in the morning, and she will smile at him with open eyes, no longer hiding her heart from his gaze, and the memory of the nightmare will fade.

Getting to his feet, he goes to snuff out the candles, but a faint sound from the hallway outside his closed door gives his pause.  He stills, ears straining, then he hears it again.  It’s the sound of creaking floorboards, not caused by the steady footfall of someone walking to use the bathroom but by that of someone lingering and, in his long experience, people rarely linger in hallways in the middle of the night for good-hearted purposes. 

He reaches for his wrist brace and hook, loosely donning them both before snuffing out the candles, then walks silently to the door of his room.  The creaking sound comes again, and his jaw tightens.  He’s clad in naught but a borrowed pair of black sleeping trousers, but he has his hook, and that’s been more than enough on many an occasion.  Taking a deep breath, he pulls open the door, then stares at his late night visitor.

Emma blinks at him, her curled fist still raised in the air, obviously poised to knock.

 “Swan?”

‘Uh, hey.”  Her gaze drops to his bare chest, then his stomach, then down to the trousers the Prince had curiously referred to as sweatpants. She blinks, dark eyelashes fluttering, her gaze roaming over his torso before finally lifting to his face, and he allows himself a moment to drink in the sight of her. She’s dressed in a heavy coat he’s never seen before, her usual woollen cap pulled low over her head, her gloved hands clutching her son’s storybook before her like a shield. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It matters not,” he reassures her, then checks the hallway behind her, unable to stop himself from fearing the worst, despite her calm demeanour. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”  The subtle curve of her mouth makes his own lips tingle with the memory of the taste of her. “You said we needed to talk?”

Perhaps there will come a day when Emma Swan stops surprising him, he thinks, but he doubts it will be anytime soon. “Aye, I did.”

“Then let’s talk.”

He glances down at his unclothed chest, uncomfortable aware of the darkened bedchamber behind and the spark of awareness glowing in her eyes.  He wants her so much he can scarcely breathe with the weight of it.  He believes in good form, but he’s only a man, and human frailty finds them all in the weakest of moments.  “Are you sure that’s wise, lass?”

“Not really,” she says softly, her grip tightening on the book in her arms, her gaze never leaving his face.  “But I’m here now, so are you going to let me in, or do I have to go back to my own bed and lay awake thinking about you until the sun comes up?”

He’s spent so long waiting for the smallest words of affection to fall from her lips that, for a moment, he thinks he’s misheard her.  Then he realises that this is real, she is very real, and he is keeping her waiting at his bedchamber door. “Well, if you put it that way,” he says with a smile, waving a hand of invitation as he opens the door a little wider. “I’m at your disposal.”

Those green eyes flash again, countless unspoken thoughts flickering in their depths, then she smiles.  She steps into his room, turning to face him as he closes the door behind him.  “I have to talk to you about Henry’s book-” she starts, but he reaches for her in the darkness, holding her still.

“Wait, let me turn on the light,” he murmurs, then he feels it, the ripple of magic prickling his skin.  Around him, the candles flicker into life, turning the room aglow.  Startled, he looks at her, a smile touching his own lips as he sees her beaming at her handiwork.  One hand still raised, she gives him a look that clearly says she’s waiting for his critique, and he’s only too happy to oblige.  “Very impressive, Swan, but how did you know the candles were there?”

She dimples at him, her smile mischievous.  “I could smell the beeswax when I came in – did you have them burning earlier?”

“Aye.” 

“Such an old-fashioned gent,” she teases, and something light and hot ripples through the heart of him. 

“Guilty as charged, love.”  Curling his hand around her elbow, he draws her towards the small desk in the corner of the room, then liberates the heavy book from her grasp.  The feel of it in his hand is all too familiar, and for a brief moment he is once again in the past, surrounded by the scent of peat fires and unwashed bodies.  Then he blinks, and he is once more in the modern world, and the only scent filling his nose is a mingling of Emma’s perfume and candlewax.  Putting the book on the desk, he lifts his hand to her face, gently brushing his knuckles against her soft cheek, his eyes widening at the chill of her skin.  “You’re frozen, lass.”

“I know.”  She pulls off her gloves and tosses them onto the desk. “There is something very weird happening with the weather tonight.”  She stills, turning to give him a wary look, then shakes her head. “I gotta stop being worried that anything unusual means that something bad is about to happen.”

“In all fairness, love, around here it usually does mean just that.”

“Not helping.” She goes to backhand him lightly in the arm, then seems to think better of it. Perhaps his half-naked state is unsettling her, and while he’s pleased she’s affected by him, it might be more courteous of him to cover himself while they talk.  Her gaze follows him across the room, and he knows she’s watching him as he unscrews his hook and places it on the nightstand, then reaches for a simple white undershirt from David’s bag.  “Uh, that’s a different look for you,” she mutters as he pulls the shirt over his head.

Her voice is thready, a little breathless, and he smiles to himself.  “A pirate I may be, love, but I’d rather not freeze before I’ve had the pleasure of spending this evening conversing with you.”  He turns in time to see her strolling across his room to the bed, sitting herself down on the edge, her hands braced on either side of her.  A nervous swallow moves in his throat without conscious will, because Emma Swan is sitting on his bed and she is even more beautiful in the candlelight than he ever could have imagined. “You said something about your lad’s book?”

“I did.”  She’s plucking at the woven bedcovering with her fingers, her forehead creased in a frown. “But, uh, there’s something else I want to ask you, too.”

“I’m an open book as far as you’re concerned, love.”  Gingerly, he sits on the bed beside her, careful to leave a decent amount of space between them.  Bloody buggering good form again, he thinks. “Have at it.”

He sees her take a deep breath.  She looks at the floor at her feet, then the ceiling, then finally at him. “How did Zelena manage to curse your kiss?” 

He closes his eyes.  Of all the secrets she had to touch upon, it would be this one, the one that has caused him so much shame, so much searching of his soul.  The one secret he vowed he would reveal to her before he had the honour of taking her to his bed.

“Killian?”  The concern in her voice has his eyes flying open.  She’s shifted closer on the bed, one hand hovering over his knee as though trying to decide if she should touch him. 

“It’s quite a long tale, love, but one I dearly wish you to hear.”  He catches her hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a hard, fierce kiss to her soft palm. “It doesn’t show me in the best of lights, I’m afraid.”

“I told you earlier.” Her gaze drops to his mouth, watching as he presses another kiss into her palm, her pale throat working as she swallows.   “It won’t change how I feel about you.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her, her hand still clasped in his, because they both know she’s never articulated her feelings for him.  He says nothing - he has no desire to pressure her - but the unspoken question flares between them nevertheless.  “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep, lass.” He lowers their joined hands, resting them gently on her thigh, and he feels the lean muscles there twitch at his touch. “There have been many times in my life when being a man of honour was the utmost thing from my mind.”

Her fingers curl around his, her free hand dancing between them in a dismissive wave. “You wanted to tell me?”  Leaning closer, she lets her gaze roam his face, dipping to his lips before once again meeting his eyes.  She’s smiling, but her tone invites no dissent. “Then tell me.”

He returns her smile, knowing she has no idea of the convoluted tale she’s just unleashed. “Well, the most important thing you must understand is that the little mermaid was never actually here in Storybrooke that day.  Rather it was Zelena in a wicked disguise, using Ariel’s friendships to worm her way into the heart of the town and entrap me into revealing my darkest, most shameful of secrets in order to curse my kiss in a vain attempt to remove your magic before you could dispatch her into oblivion.”  

Emma’s eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted, and he chuckles at her stunned expression.  “You alright there, Swan?”   He squeezes her hand.  “We could save this tale for another time if you wish.”

She shakes her head, her eyes coming back into sudden focus.  “No, tell me everything.”  She shifts closer, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her, the hair on his arms standing on end as though charged with an invisible current.  Electricity comes in many forms, it seems.  “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

Her voice is low and soft and beguiling, bewitching him in a heartbeat, and he can no more resist her request than if she’d cast her magic net over his free will.  “Indeed we do, love.”  He hesitates for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts in order to properly convey the tale of a stolen ship, a determined mermaid and a painful epiphany that had ultimately set him on the course which had led him to her door in New York City.

Feeling distinctly as though he is about to set sail into unchartered waters - and praying that she truly means it when she says nothing he tells her will change her feelings for him - he takes a deep breath and begins to talk.

“What about now; hasn’t Emma done anything for you?” Robin asked, suggestively.

David elbowed him hard; he might not have had a problem with the two of them dating anymore, but he didn’t want to know if they actually did something!

“We haven’t been together during my birthday yet; I don’t think she even knows when it is,” Killian said, as he took a gulp.

“And when would that be?” Robin asked.

If Killian had been slightly more sober, then he probably wouldn’t have answered, but after a several drinks, it was safe to say he wasn’t in a right state of mind, “In two days from now,” Killian said with a grin.

David didn’t really remember much else from that night, but when he woke up the next morning he knew he had to do something.

Thankfully for him, Emma’s place wasn’t too far from his. He called her that morning, not wanting to go over in the fear that Killian was there, but when he did, she mentioned he was sleeping off a particularly bad hangover. He asked her to come by and bring Henry, because he needed to talk to them.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“What was so important you couldn’t say so over the phone?” Emma asked, as soon as David opened the door to see his daughter and her son on the other side. He ushered her into the kitchen, where his wife was making breakfast, while Neal sat in his highchair.

“Did you know it’s Killian’s birthday tomorrow?” David asked her as they sat down at the table.

Emma’s eyes widened, “He never mentioned that to me!”

“I doubt he would have told me either, yet he was drunk out of his mind when he let it slip,” David said, as he picked up his son. “So I was thinking we should plan something. How about you guys come over for dinner tomorrow, and we can cut a cake after and give him presents.”

“Operation Surprise Birthday!” Henry said with a smile. “I like it!”

Emma nodded, “Sounds good; now I just have to figure out what to get him…”

~ ES & KJ ~

Killian was surprised when Emma told him that they were going over to her parent’s for dinner that day, but with no explanation of why. He wondered if they knew what today was, but as he thought about it as a possibility, he realised that it couldn’t be high. It wasn’t as if he had told anyone when it was. He had spent so many years alone.

Emma had made sure to dress him up in a set of dress pants and shirt, something which her land claimed to be formal attire.

They had arrived slightly after six that day, and Snow immediately rushed them to the table, on which she had placed a lot of food on it. He looked at his girlfriend questioningly, but she simply shook her head to tell him not to question it, but she made sure to hold his hand as they sat beside each other.

The entire dinner was slightly awkward, but suddenly, Henry turned to Killian.

“Killian, could you tell me about your past?” Henry asked, somewhat eagerly. “Like about your family! And how you became a pirate!”

Killian squirmed in his seat, as he looked at his girlfriend. She gave him a nod of approval, but squeezed his hand, and it showed that she supported him.

“It’s not exactly all a pleasant tale,” Killian said warningly.

“We can handle it,” Henry said.

Killian took a deep breath, and he began to tell them about his life. He knew that Emma knew bits and pieces, but not the entire thing. He told them about how his father had left him, because he was on the run from the law, and that he couldn’t afford to keep Killian around, and that his mother had died already. He told them about how Liam found him, took him in and put him through Navy training, then let him join his crew and work up to Lieutenant. He told him about how they went to Neverland, and how Liam was poisoned by dreamshade, but Pan gave him the water, yet Liam died when they reached the Enchanted Forest. That it triggered him turning into a pirate, and how he had lived a good life like that. Then he told them about Milah, and how she ran away with him, but then how the Dark One caught them, and eventually killed her and took his hand. He told them how he went to Neverland to stop himself from aging, but how he met Baelfire there, and tried to raise him until he had to turn him over when Bae learned what he had done.  And then how he got back and learned about the dagger, and went to find Belle to see if she knew about it, but Regina caught him, and sent him after Cora. Then he told him how Cora told him all about the curse and offered a chance at revenge, which lead to him meeting Emma and Snow.

When he finished his story, he saw that the entire family was in tears. David was trying to cover it up, but the rest not so much. Emma squeezed his hand, while Henry launched himself into a full blown hug.

“Killian, do you know why we wanted you to come over today?” Emma asked him. “Because we know it’s your birthday, and I don’t want you to think that it’s just another year and no one loves you.”

“Because we do,” David said. “I might not want to hear all the details about you and my daughter, but I think of you as a friend, but more importantly, as family.”

“And we want you to know that we will always be here for you, no matter what,” Snow added.

“And that we love you,” Henry said, as he let go of the hug.

Killian stiffened, but as their words sunk in, he felt himself relax. He looked around the room, and he could feel that every single one of them loved and cared about him, and that gave him hope. Emma pressed a kiss on his lips, and he knew that they were his family, and his home.