#csss2019

Yes, I made you a hand-themed playlist.

And colorized the Colin photos feat. his hands, which has probably already been done by people when the photos were released, but I did these versions myself for your playlist header (accompanied by the black and white originals, source links below and credit to photographer Teren Oddo).

Songs are in no particular order (other than the order I thought of them and added them to a Spotify playlist), and while hands in general were the focus when I initially added songs, I did think of CS when I played them back to finalize the list with what could also apply to CS in various situations/feelings/aus/etc, so it is still technically a CS gift. ;)

Emma considered his words, carefully examining his clothing through the bars of the cell. They were a bit tattered, torn in several places, and the navy fabric was obviously stained by sea water, bits of salt crusting along the edges. But his hair was short, he had only one small ring on his right hand and a delicate chain that disappeared somewhere under his shirt. He had no earrings or ostentatious jewelry, and no peg leg or hooked hand. 

“You don’t look much like a pirate,” she said finally.

“I’m not one,” he replied. 

“Then why do they think you are?”

“My father,” he shrugged. “I’m told there’s a striking resemblance, though personally I wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen the man since I was six.”

“That’s awful,” Emma breathed, fighting back the feeling of sympathy that was rising within her. He was probably lying to her, trying to trick her. She shouldn’t trust a word he said. And yet there was something so sincere in his blue eyes, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that his words were true. “Who are you really then?”

“The name’s Killian Jones, m’lady,” he said, dipping into a bow with a flourish of his arms. “I’m a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. And with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Lady Leia of Arendelle,” Emma lied easily. “Can’t you just tell them that you’re innocent? 

“‘Til I’m blue in the face, love,” he answered with a wry laugh. “But it seems that I don’t have a very trustworthy face. So it seems I’ll be off to the gallows, my only crime resembling a man I’ve hardly met and having a tankard of ale in the wrong tavern.”

“There must be something you can do!” she objected, her voice echoing a bit in the cavernous dungeon. “I won’t let them do this to you.”

“That’s very kind, m’lady, but I doubt you have the power to stop this,” Killian answered, with a sad sort of smile. 

Emma privately disagreed, but then again, she’d never had the guts to challenge her parents on anything before, so what made her think she could do it now? But something about this man made her feel bold and confident, and she felt like she suddenly had the courage to do what she’d been dreaming of for weeks.

“If I get you out of here, will you take me with you?” she asked, stepping up to the cell and wrapping her delicate fingers around the bars. 

“How will you get me out?” he said, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. “And why would you want to leave?”

“I have my ways,” Emma grinned. “The jailers will never tell my - the King and Queen that you’ve escaped, they’d be in too much trouble, so they’ll probably just fake your execution. You’ll be free to go back to your post in the Navy, and you can take me back to my family in Arendelle. It doesn’t matter why I want to go, I just do. Now, do we have a deal?”

Killian considered her words carefully, and his eyes roamed over her as he thought, traveling from the soft porcelain skin of her fingers over the gold damask of her sleeves to the expanse of bare skin across her chest. Typically, she would have worn an ornate necklace, but she hadn’t wanted to stand out. Now she almost wished she had worn it because she was feeling very naked under his gaze. Emma could tell that he was attracted to her, and she felt like his desire was infecting her through the bars of the cell.

“Alright,” he said at last, stepping back a step, “you’ve got a deal.”

Emma smiled and stepped away from the bar, pulling a long pin from her hair. She knelt by the door, briefly hoping that the ground wouldn’t stain her gown, and began fumbling with the lock. It took her a moment to get it right, but eventually the lock sprung open, and she tossed it aside unceremoniously. Killian immediately rushed the door, stepping out to his freedom with unparallelled eagerness. 

“Come on,” Emma said, after allowing him to bask in the feeling for a second. “We need to get moving before the guards come by.”

She began walking through the dungeon at a brisk pace, Killian following at her heels. They wove through dark, dank corridors, and more than once Emma had to stop and get her bearings. They didn’t speak, and the only sounds were the steady drip of water, the soft click of Emma’s shoes, and the puff of Killian’s breath. Finally, they passed under an archway and found themselves at a set of stone stairs leading up. Killian grabbed Emma’s arm, stopping her as her foot was on the first step.

“You’re not planning on just walking me out the front door, are you lass?” he asked, apprehension clear on his features.

“Of course not,” she sighed, trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “These stairs come out near the servants’ quarters. There’s a small courtyard and a door in the outer wall, and the street beyond leads straight to the marketplace and the port. We just need to get through the gate without being spotted by guards, and then we’ll be safe.”

“Is it not manned at all hours?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma shook her head. “You need a key to get in - only the head servants have them - but it opens easily from the inside. They really only care about keeping people out.”

“How do you know all this?” 

“I explore a lot,” Emma said with a shrug. “And I suppose I hear things.”

Killian looked like he didn’t completely buy her answer, but he didn’t question it, and that was enough for her for the moment. He released her arm and they began to climb the stairs. It twisted once and then they could see light streaming in from the little archway at the top. Emma nearly ran up the stairs, so close to her freedom. In her eagerness, she didn’t hear the rustle of chainmail and the soft stomp of boots approaching.

Killian grabbed her arm once more, just in time to pull her back from the doorway, and he slammed her against the wall, his own body following hers and pressing against her. They were so close together, the guards would almost certainly not see them in the darkness. Even if they did, they would likely just assume that Emma and Killian were lovers stealing a moment, and leave them be. 

Emma turned her gaze away from the door and realized just how close she and Killian were. She could count his eyelashes as they exchanged breaths. One of his hands was on the wall by her head, while the hand that had grabbed her was trapped between them, along with her own. It would be so easy for him to dip his hand beneath the low collar of her gown and find her breasts, and oh how she wished he would. The thought sent warm tingles throughout her body, and she was sure that a blush was rising on her cheeks, betraying her desire. Through the heavy fabric of her dress, she could feel him rising as well, hardness pressing at her thighs. Emma thought she would have given anything for him to hike up her skirts and take her right there, pushing into her as they got rid of all space between them. Her governess had given her all the details of wifely duties, explaining in great specificity what to expect. She had been nervous about it all, but now Emma believed when her mother had said that it could really be quite pleasurable. She wanted Killian to kiss her fiercely now, swallowing all of her little noises of pleasure so that no one would catch them.

Don’t be absurd, Emma thought to herself. You’re a princess. 

But the thought did nothing to drive away the desire, and when she looked at Killian, it seemed he was having much the same battle as she was. It was only when he stepped away that she felt the fog that had descended over her mind begin to lift. 

“After you, m’lady,” he said, speaking the words like he was reminding himself to behave. 

Emma took a deep breath and peered carefully around the doorway, making sure the guards had actually passed, and then she stepped out into the sunlight of the courtyard. The red and gold fabric glinted in the light, so much brighter than it had looked in the dungeon, and Emma hoped it didn’t look too fine. If Killian figured out who she was now, he would never take her with him, and she had to get away. 

They skirted through the courtyard, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, though Emma was acutely aware that she didn’t exactly look like a servant. But they made it through without being stopped, and Emma pushed open the heavy wooden door eagerly. Killian followed her through, and then the door fell shut with a heavy thud behind them. Emma thought she would remember that sound her whole life, because it was the start of her freedom.

Killian and Emma walked down to the port quickly, but once they had gone a few streets from the castle, they both began to relax. They were starting to become lost in the throngs of people, and there was little chance that anyone would find them now, even if they were looking. As they drew closer to the market and the port, Emma began to feel nervous. She had only been to the market a few times, and never unaccompanied, so she didn’t truly know her way around. It would be very easy to get lost.

“Allow me to lead on, lass,” Killian said, as though he could read her thoughts. “This is rather more my domain.”

He wound his way through the crowds, occasionally nodding or saying a brief hello to one of the merchants. Emma realised that he must dock here quite often, to be known on sight, and really it made sense for a naval lieutenant. This was the capital, after all. A great deal of naval duties were conducted here.

At last, they made it to the port proper, the sea breeze wafting over them. Emma felt her hair lifting in the wind, and it felt like freedom. She was so close to getting away. There were small fishing boats and medium-sized personal leisure boats, and behind those stood a fleet of massive naval ships. Their masts rose into the sky like a thousand barren trees, searching for sunlight, just waiting to unfurl their gargantuan sails. The sight took Emma’s breath away, and when she finally regained her composure, she found Killian grinning at her. 

“What?” she asked, feeling more than a little defensive.

“I’m merely enjoying your awe, m’lady,” he replied, chuckling a little, and Emma sensed there was more to it than that, but she didn’t push. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

It dawned on Emma that her cover story was being a lady from Arendelle, and as such she would have had to take a ship - likely one very similar to the naval ships - to the kingdom of Misthaven. She inwardly reprimanded herself for allowing her facade to slip for a moment. This bargain was precariously struck, and she didn’t want Killian to back out now.

Killian makes his way down the docks until he reaches one of the smaller naval ships, quickly stepping aboard and holding his hand out to help Emma. She takes it graciously, and feels another surge of electricity emanate from their joined hands. The tips of his ears turn red, and he reaches up and scratches at one of them, immediately letting go of her hand. Emma’s not entirely sure why - perhaps he’s not very experienced with women? It’s not as if she’s not a suitable match for him as far as he knows. But whatever the reason, his embarrassment is more than a little endearing to her, and she can’t help the smile that crosses her face. 

“Welcome back, sir!” a pudgy little man greets, sweeping off his Chief Petty Officer’s hat and bowing toward Killian. It was only as he was rising and opening his mouth to speak again that he finally noticed Emma standing there. “S-sir? May I ask -?”

“We will be escorting Lady Leia of Arendelle back to her home,” Killian explained rapidly. He seemed anxious that she not be mistaken for a prostitute, placing significant emphasis on her title. Not that her fine clothes didn’t already give it away somewhat. “This is not a mission for the Royal Navy, so any of the men are free to stay at port until they return if they so desire.”

“How soon would you like anchors away, sir?” the Chief Petty Officer asked, ready to begin preparations, even if he did look a little wary of their endeavor.

“Within the hour, if you please, Mr. Smee,” Killian replied, and Smee immediately sprang into action. Killian turned his attention toward Emma. “Follow me, m’lady, you’ll be quite comfortable in my quarters.”

“So I’m to be hidden below decks for the whole journey, is that right?” she said, mostly teasing him. 

“Answer me this, m’lady,” he replied with a knowing grin, stepping into her space. “Am I correct in thinking that leaving Misthaven is not exactly a sanctioned trip for you?”

“I…” she wanted to deny it, but the honest truth was that it was even less permitted than Killian imagined. Truth be told, he would probably be accused of kidnapping her if they were found, and Emma didn’t think even she could save him from that. “Yes, you’re right.”

“Then I think it is better that you remain in my quarters until we are in international waters and far from any other ships,” Killian said. “But I assure you, they’re quite comfortable.”

He lifted a section of the wooden floor, revealing a small staircase, and he quickly descended. Emma followed behind him,  and as she reached the bottom few stairs, Killian held out his hand for her once more to guide her in the dark. She could barely make out the narrow corridor that traversed the length of the ship, a few doors dotting either side, presumably leading to the crews’ bunks. But right next to the staircase was the door that Killian pushed open, stepping inside. He was quite right to say that it was comfortable. There was a narrow bed along the left side, with drawers built into the bottom of it, and to her right was a large bookshelf. Directly across from the door was a built in dresser of sorts, with little windows right above it. Little knick knacks and instruments were scattered across the top of it. Most of little room was taken up by a sizeable table and matching chairs. Emma stepped inside and gently ran her hand across the tabletop as she examined the room’s contents. Behind her back, Killian flushed with embarrassment again.

“It is nice,” she admitted out loud. “Very organized.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied simply, scratching at his ear once more. “I need to help with a few preparations before we leave, but I’ll be back soon and I’ll bring some food for us. Please, make yourself at home while I’m gone.”

Emma nodded and he quickly turned around, closing the door softly behind him. She wasn’t entirely sure that he was being honest, perhaps he simply didn’t want to be stuck there with her, but he had said he would be back. She walked around the room a little bit more, examining the shelves and their contents in a little more detail. But it was less interesting without Killian to ask about each object’s use or history. She pulled a book down from the shelf - Ovid’s Heroides - and settled herself at the table. She couldn’t really tell if they were moving, but she supposed they must be, because the sun was beginning to set before Killian returned to his quarters, carrying two plates laden with food.

Emma looked up and felt her breath catch in her throat. The setting sun was illuminating Killian in a golden glow, and his hair had taken on a slightly reddish tint, like each strand was infused with copper. He was looking at her similarly awe struck, and Emma idly wondered how the scene appeared from his perspective. 

“Apologies for the wait, m’lady,” he said, setting the plates down on the table and pulling out the chair adjacent to her. “A few of the crew stayed behind, so I had to help a bit more than usual with getting out of port. It should be smooth sailing from now on though.”

“That’s good,” Emma replied, not really sure what else to say to that. “Thank you for the food.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the palace cooking, but we make do here,” he shrugged.

“Why did you join the Navy?” Emma asked abruptly, searching for any topic that would break the silence that stretched between them.

“My brother joined first, and I didn’t really have any other prospects,” Killian answered, although he tensed up in a way that made Emma think that perhaps she hadn’t chosen the best topic of discussion. “There aren’t very many people who want to hire orphans. You don’t get any family favors in return, you see.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. She felt awful that no one wanted him. Sometimes she felt like nobody really wanted her as she was - Emma, rather than the Princess - but at least she had a family who loved her, if not always in the way she wanted them to. They were far from perfect, and she didn’t feel particularly affectionate toward them at the moment, but they were better than not having any family at all.

“It’s alright,” he replied with a wry sort of smile. “The Navy isn’t such a bad life, and I found myself well suited to it.”

“Is your brother still in the Navy?” Emma asked.

“No,” he said, his face falling a bit.

There was silence again in the small cabin. Killian didn’t expand upon his answer, and Emma could tell that she shouldn’t ask. That, in and of itself, told her enough. Whatever happened, his brother was probably gone or changed in a way that could never be reversed. Both of them pushed their food around their plates a bit, sitting awkwardly.

“Why did you want to return to Arendelle so desperately?” Killian asked after several long minutes had passed.

Emma blanched. This was not at all a topic she wanted to discuss. But she supposed she owed him some amount of honesty - he was taking an awfully big risk for her, after all. She took a second to really think about her answer, and then breathed deeply as she began.

“I suppose it’s a lot of things, really,” Emma shrugged. “But the pressing issue is that I’m supposed to be married in a few days’ time, and there’s nothing in the world I want less than that.”

“Not a big fan of marriage?” Killian asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“It’s not that,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t mind the idea of marriage under the right circumstances, but this isn’t that. My parents have arranged a marriage for strategic purposes, but the man they’ve chosen is just awful. I don’t really understand how they could even want me to be his wife. I’ve heard so many rumours about him…”

“There are rumours that I’m a pirate,” Killian replied quietly. Touche. 

“I’ve met him a few times as well, and he lives up to his reputation,” Emma assured him. “But it’s not just that. It’s that for so long, my parents haven’t seen the real me, they only see me as the p- as a political tool,” she continued, correcting herself at the last second. “People only ever want me for what I can offer them - or what my title can, at least. Nobody ever really wants to know me as a person. And don’t mistake me, my parents are really good people, with hearts of gold. But since my brother was born I think they’ve just gotten a little bit carried away with having a son and a second chance at parenthood, and I mattered just a little bit less because I was no longer heir.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, his voice taking on a soothing tone. 

“I know they love me,” Emma continued, feeling inexplicably defensive. “I just think that maybe they don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe I don’t even know.”

“Why do you want to return to them then?” he asked, and it took Emma a moment to remember that she’d said Arendelle was her home.

“They don’t live in Arendelle,” she said, lying quickly. “My parents have been friends with the Royal Family for a long time, so they spend most of the year in the Misthaven court. We keep an estate in Arendelle of course, but we really only ever go back there for vacations.”

“Won’t they come to look for you there first?” he pressed, poking holes in Emma’s plan left and right.

“I won’t stay there long,” Emma replied after a minute. “I just need to gather my thoughts and come up with more of a plan. I didn’t really expect to run away when I set out this morning, I just sort of... “

“Siezed the opportunity?” Killian finished for her. 

“Yeah,” she admitted with a shrug. 

They fell into an awkward silence once more, and Emma began to wonder if he thought she was just some spoiled noble girl. Maybe she was. He’d seen real problems, and wasn’t she really just saying that nobody paid enough attention to her? No, it’s not that, she reminded herself. Everyone deserved to be seen and wanted for who they really are, even princesses.

“My brother was killed about two years ago,”  Killian said, pulling Emma out of her own thoughts. “There was a skirmish near the border, shots were fired. He was just unlucky I suppose. He was thrown back in the blast and got a cut across his ribs. But the damn fool wouldn’t have it treated properly and it got infected. It was so close to his heart that the infection spread fast and he was gone within two days.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, sorrow sweeping over her. 

“When we were young, Liam was the only one who really cared,” Killian continued, barely even registering Emma’s words as he stared through the little windows at the darkening sky. “Nobody pays much attention to orphans, except to reprimand them and chase them off. Liam did his best to keep us off the streets, but we didn’t always have food. Sometimes I would nick some from the markets for us. Liam didn’t approve of such behavior, so I always told him that I had earned it carrying boxes or that some kind woman had taken pity on me or something of the like. I’m not sure he ever really believed me, but our bellies were empty and there was no returning the food at that point, so he let it slide.”

“He sounds like a great brother,” Emma said, reaching out and covering Killian’s hand with her own.

His head snapped around, blue eyes focusing on her with intensity. She felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him once more, but this was different. She felt like this one conversation had provided them each with something they very sorely needed, and it had fostered a unique intimacy between them. Even though there was so much she didn’t know about him, she felt like she had seen him to his very core, and she never wanted to stop. He was a good person with a hard life, and how anyone could ever think he was a pirate was beyond her. His eyes flickered over her lips and Emma could feel similar thoughts rattling around in his mind. He leaned forward slightly, and Emma thought he might close the gap between them.

A movement in the window caught both of their attention, and they turned away from each other with only a few measly inches between them. Emma groaned inwardly at the interruption, but her irritation was quickly replaced by fear as she took in the black sails of the ship passing by. Killian practically leapt out of his chair and crossed to the window, scanning the horizon with his hands resting on the top of the dresser.

“Pirates?” she asked, her anxiety betrayed by the small quiver in her voice.

“Pirates don’t usually travel in fleets, love,” Killian answered, but his words didn’t seem to relax him at all. “Stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

He strode from the room before she could ask him to stay with her. Not that she would have, but she wanted to. She wanted him to tell her everything was alright, not to worry. Instead she just watched the door shut behind him.

Killian practically raced up the stairs, immediately finding Smee at the helm.

“What’s this?” Killian asked, motioning toward the approaching fleet. As they drew closer, he could see that the sails were not, in fact, black, but rather a dark crimson with a navy slash across them.

“That’s the Royal delegation from the Darkwood,” Smee answered, using the nickname for Glowerhaven. It was not a well liked kingdom among the people of Misthaven. “They’re on their way for the wedding of their prince to Princess Emma in two days’ time.”

Killian watched the ships warily. He doubted they would start any trouble while they were carrying the King, but with that lot, you never knew. King Gold, as he was unaffectionately known in Misthaven, was a vile man - vengeful and exacting with a temper that could turn with the slightest word. It was said that he had been kinder before his wife had passed away, but Killian couldn’t personally attest to that. He’d had multiple encounters with the repugnant king, and none of them good. The man was particularly known for striking unfair bargains and having no mercy in their execution, inflicting harsh punishments upon those who could not pay up. It was his ships that had fired upon Liam’s, all over a disputed tax. Killian had heard similar things about the Prince - that he was cruel and manipulative and unfeeling, though he couldn’t say how much of that was true.

And then it clicked for Killian.

“Bloody buggering hell,” he swore, stomping across the deck toward the stairs once more.

“Sir?” Smee called out after him, but Killian ignored him and kept marching on.

He opened the door to his quarters and let it close heavily behind him. Emma turned and could see anger flash in his eyes, but his voice was calm and measured when he spoke.

“You’re the Princess,” he said, half a statement and half an accusation.

Emma’s mind reeled as she tried to think of some lie to tell, but she was taking too long to answer, and she could see that her pause was confirmation enough for him.

“Yes,” she admitted at last. She expected him to fume at her, and she straighted her back and squared her shoulders, ready to defend her actions. She had done what she needed to.

“I suppose it’s a bit late to genuflect now,” he sighed, deflating a bit and surprising Emma. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“If I had told you who I was, you never would have taken me,” Emma answered defiantly.

“I think I had the right to make that decision for myself,” Killian replied, “since I could be executed for it if we’re caught.”

“Then I suppose we shouldn’t get caught,” Emma said, taking a step toward Killian and wrapping her fingers around the lapel of his jacket. 

“Your Highness,” he said in a warning tone, protesting her closeness even though Emma could tell he wanted to pull her in tighter.

“Emma,” she corrected, swaying the tiniest bit closer. “Keep going and we can be just Emma and Killian. I see you, Killian, and I want you.”

His head dipped in a little, tempted by her close proximity, but then he pushed away, running his hand quickly through his hair as he took a deep breath.

“No,” he said, the words feeling a little bit like a blow to Emma, but he continued on hastily. “You have power and influence and a good heart, you can’t throw that away.”

“I’m only a princess, Killian, I’m not even the heir,” Emma protested, more than a little bit frustrated. She thought he would be different, that he might want her not for her title, but for herself.

“People love you, Emma, and they’ll listen to you, and that’s power, heir or not,” he replied, stepping back toward her like her irritation hurt him. “You are so strong, love, and you have a voice, you just need to find it. Tell the world who you are and what’s important to you, because they’ll care about it, and that’s very special.”

“I won’t marry him,” she said, as much of an acknowlegment that he had a good point as he was going to get from her.

“I’m quite glad to hear it,” Killian answered, the hint of a smile crossing his lips as one hand dropped to her waist, pulling her closer while he tucked a strand of her hair back with his other hand. 

“Come back with me,” Emma asked, placing her hands on his chest. 

“I’ll be by your side for as long as you want me,” he agreed, the hand on her waist tightening a little.

“How does forever sound?” she asked with a coy smile, moving her hands across his muscles until her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Sounds damn good.” 

          “I’ll get up with her,” he said as he started to remove himself from her embrace.  But her arms around him only tightened.              

          “No, it’s my turn.” She pushed away from his back and when she threw the blankets off, he felt a cold breeze against across his skin.  He shivered and reminded himself to check the houses heating system.  It may be winter, but there was no need for the house to be as cold as the Jolly Roger while at sea.

          Emma pulled a pair of lounge pants and a large Storybrooke Pet Shelter t-shirt on over her underwear.  “You got up with her the other night when she had that nightmare.”

          Killian grasped his wife’s hand as she headed toward the bedroom door.  “Regardless, love.  If you want to stay abed a bit longer, I am happy to entertain our little early bird so you can rest.”

          That earned him a smile.  “I’m already up.  Try and get some more sleep; we have a busy day ahead.” Emma gave him a quick kiss as she turned off the baby monitor and headed out.  

          Killian groaned and dramatically pulled the blanket up and over his head. He could hear Emma’s laugh as she made her way down to Hope’s room.

          A busy day…

          That was a bit of an understatement.

          It was Christmas, one of this realm’s winter holidays.

          It was a day filled with family, friends, many odd traditions, and copious amounts of food and drink.  He quite enjoyed the holiday, personally, especially the food and drink.  

          But last year had been a bit of a disaster.

          Emma, Henry, 1 year-old Hope, and himself had all gone over to Mary-Margaret and David’s house for an early Christmas brunch and to exchange gifts.  Afterwards, they’d all gone into town and had a small lunch at Granny’s.  They then continued onto Regina’s house, where the combined “royal family of Storybrooke” hosted a large Christmas party that the people of the town flitted in and out of the rest of the day.

          Normally, this would have been a long, if tiring, day.  But any event was made more complicated when there was a toddler involved.

          The excitement of the day had made getting Hope down for her afternoon nap nearly impossible.  It had taken over an hour to get her to sleep and she refused to stay asleep unless she was in either his or Emma’s arms.  Even then, she only slept half the normal amount of time she usually did.

          Which resulted in everyone having to deal with a very cranky toddler for the remainder of the holiday.  Tempers frayed, words were exchanged, and Killian had had to pull Emma out of the house and into the cold before she roasted the Christmas ham without the aid of an oven.  

          In the weeks leading up to this year’s event, he and Emma had made the decision to spend the morning at home and join the rest of their family after Hope’s nap.  Mary Margaret had been disappointed and tried to convince them otherwise.  David, however, had understood and had been instrumental in getting his wife to let them make their own decisions.  

          “Dada! Up! Dada get up!” Hope’s voice drifted down the hall, pulling him from his musing.  

          He heard Emma shushed her gently, “No duckling, let Dada sleep.”

          “No… Dada up!”

          The sound of Hope running down the hall told Killian that his time in bed was about to end.  But he decided to have some fun before his daughter dragged him out of it.  He settled himself down and pretended to be asleep.  

          “Dada!” He heard Hope yell as she ran into the room.  The bed shook as her tiny body barreled into the side of it. There was a soft tug on the blanket as she said, “Get up Dada! Get up!”

          Killian let out an exaggerated snore in response.  Her small, soft hands patted at his face.  Before she could move, Killian quickly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto the bed.  Hope shrieked in laughter.  

          “Don’t you know better than to wake a sleeping pirate?” He asked as he snuggled her close.  She smelled like baby powder and the soft lavender scent of the baby-specific detergent they used for her clothes only.  

          Hope babbled something too fast for him to understand completely, but he did make out the words “strawberries”, “pancakes”, and “newt”, the last being his daughter’s current word for milk, so he figured she was talking about what she wanted to breakfast.

          “I don’t know love, I’m very comfortable right here.  Why don’t you and Mama bring me breakfast in bed?” He winked at Emma as he said this and received a roll of the eyes in response.

          “No Dada.  Up!” Hope continued to insist.  She squirmed from his arms and out of bed.  Once on the ground again, she grasped his hand and pulled.  At the sight of her determination, Killian relented.

          “Alright, alright, you win.  I’m getting up,” he said as he moved the blankets aside.  He swung his legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed. This seemed to satisfy Hope, who released his hand.  Killian ruffled her dark hair before stretching his arms above his head, hearing a few joints pop in the process.  His 200 years were finally catching up to him.

          As he brought his arms down, he noticed that Hope had a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.  No, that was wrong.  He saw the same speculative look on Emma’s face every time she was presented with a new situation.

          He started to ask her what was wrong, but stopped when Hope slowly reached out and placed her hands on the blunted end of his left arm.  Her small fingers explored the scared skin, in much the same way Emma had the first time she had seen it.

          “Hooky.”

          Killian blinked, unsure at first if he heard Hope correctly.  

          “Hooky,” she repeated.

          He looked up at Emma, whose face now wore an identical expression to Hope.

          “I think she is wondering where your hook is,” Emma cautiously suggested.

          Killian frowned.  He knew Hope had seen him without his hook many times.  He wore the fake hand nearly as often as he wore the hook nowadays, especially when at home.  

          Hope poked at the end of his stump.  

          “Hooky.”  Her small voice was starting to take on a slightly hysterical edge, which both he and Emma knew meant that a meltdown was on its way.

          Without taking his eyes off of Hope, Killian stretched his arm out and pulled his brace from the drawer of his nightstand.  He places it on his lap, careful to position the point of the hook away from his daughter.  It’s duller now than it used to be, but it was still a weapon.

          Hope’s attention shifted and she placed one hand on the leather of the brace.  Her voice was soft as she almost whispers, “Hooky.”

          Killian nodded as he said, “Yes duckling, this is how Dada wears his hook.”

          Hope moved his arm closer to the brace.  Figuring out what she wants, Killian guided it onto his arm.  The straps of the harness that secure it hang loose, but Hope appeared much happier as soon as the brace and hook are on his arm.

          “Dada Hook,” she yelled, triumphant.

          Killian wraps both his arms around his daughter and pulls her close.  

          “Yes duckling.  Dada Hook,” he whispers against her hair.  He feels Emma’s arms encircle both of them. They stay that way for a moment, before Hope begins to wriggle.  

          “Henry up!” She says before running out of the room, presumably to go wake up Henry.  

          Without prompting, Emma positions and fastens the straps of the harness along his arm and shoulders.  This simple act help sooth some of the insecure feelings that had settled in his gut. Once finished, she placed a kiss on the back of his neck and said, “Come on, Dada Hook.  It’s time to have Christmas breakfast with your family.”

Emma is just stepping out of the shower when her phones rings. Seeing Killian's name appear on the screen, a huge smile breaks out over her face as she picks it up.

"Hey babe, have you left the grocery store yet? Did you remember the cinnamon?" she asks playfully.

"Is this Emma Swan?" a voice she has never heard before in her life answers, a voice she is certain she will now remember forever.

"Yes, this is she. Who is this?"

"My name is Joanna Miles and I am a nurse at New York Presbyterian Hospital. I am calling because you are listed as Mr. Jones’ emergency contact. He was in an accident and is very seriously injured."

The earth is moving under her feet, she can no longer stand, it feels like her legs have turned into jello.

Killian is hurt. He was in an accident. Her love was injured. Those thoughts are going around her mind on an endless loop and she can't concentrate on anything else Joanna is saying.

Emma asks her which hospital he’s in, forgetting that Joanna had already mentioned it, and in which room to go, before hanging up the phone with shaking hands.She only wants to reach him, o be near him. She takes a deep breath and moves to the door only to realise she is still wearing a towel.

She runs into their room, puts on a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt and her jacket. She ties her wet hair in a bun on the top of her head and races out the door.

She drives to the hospital while staying just above the speed limit. When she arrives, she parks outside the hospital and runs to the front desk.

She’s directed to the waiting room on the third room and then waits. At some point she remembers to call Killian’s brother, Liam, and then her brother to let them know what happened. She isn't sure they understand everything she says, tears are constantly running from her eyes.

David is the first one there; he holds her and tells her that Killian will be fine. Liam arrives next with his wife, Elsa. He is livid, pacing the waiting room and asking the same questions, questions Emma doesn't have the answers to.

She is sitting there and waiting, waiting to hear if he will be okay. She is waiting to see him and hug him, she wants to make sure he is still there, that he didn't leave her. Just the thought of it has her sobbing again, David has his arm around her; her tears are soaking his shirt.

After several hours spent in the waiting room, a doctor finally appears and asks for her. She immediately stands up. What the doctors says, though, makes her want to sit back down.

Killian had a severe head injury; the doctor telling her in details about his conditions usings many medical terms, which she is certain are important, but her mind can't grasp them. What she does understand, though, is that Killian is in a coma and the doctor doesn’t know when he will wake up.

But he has to wake up, she thinks to herself; though she might be saying it out loud, she might even be yelling it, she just isn't sure anymore.

The next couple of days pass slowly creating a new routine. Emma and Liam are on Killian's side at all hours, they only leave to go home for a shower and some hours of restless sleep. David keeps telling her to go home and stay there, and that he can call her if anything changes, but she can't leave more than a couple of hours; she can't sleep in their bed by herself. She needs to be near him, to see him, to make sure he is there.

She almost snaps at her brother the third time he suggests she not stay another night at the hospital. Can't he understand that where Killian is, that's where she wants to be?

The doctors keep coming in to the room, taking tests and checking all the machines that are connected to his body, while sharing very little. They don't know when he will wake up or if his condition will leave any permanent injury. His left hand is in a cast, but it is healing, he has some bruises on his body and arms, but they will heal with time. She knows it, everything will heal, if only he wakes up. She wants him to wake up to see again those blue eyes of his that made her fall in love.

It is now Christmas Eve and they had planned to go for a walk at the park near their house today. It was their place, where they shared their first kiss, it was the moment after that kiss that Emma knew she could risk getting her heart broken again, even if she ran away from him in that moment, she knew she could trust him.

Killian had mentioned that it would be nice to see the park decorated with Christmas lights, she was always a sucker for everything that had to do with Christmas. She didn’t need any convincing to agree to his plan. Unfortunately, their walk will have to wait, they would go once Killian was out of the hospital.

Instead she is spending Christmas Eve in a hospital at the bedside of her boyfriend. Their family will be here again later; they don't leave her alone for long. Just being the two of them for a moment, she feels that it is her time to ask for a Christmas miracle.

Emma holds Killian's hand while sitting beside him on the bed, she brings the back of his hand to her lips to press a gentle kiss it.

"Killian, I don't know if you can hear me, the doctors say that you might, so if you do, I ask you to wake up, to come back to me." Tears are falling from her eyes, she can't hold them back anymore. "I am begging you to fight, to open your eyes and make me the happiest person on earth. Please, my love, wake up." She is openly crying now but she doesn't care, she only cares for him to wake up. She is still holding his hand in hers and praying to everything and everyone to help him.

She stays like that for hours, always at his side, holding his hand. David comes in with his wife, Mary Margaret, his wife a little later, and they sit with her, telling her all about little Leo and how excited he is about Santa coming. Emma tries to smile, to show her love for her nephew, but she knows that her smile is not bright.

Liam and Elsa soon follow, but with Elsa being 7 months pregnant she can't stay for long. When the visiting hours end, everyone gets ready to leave. David pulls Emma aside and asks her to come to their home. Emma hugs him and wishes him Merry Christmas.

Emma is again alone in the room, talking to Killian about how everyone was just here how they can't wait for him to join the celebration, and how nobody makes gingerbread cookies like him when she suddenly feels his hand twist. For a moment she thinks that she imagined it; she is staring at his hand expecting to see it move again before she looks up and sees his eyes open and looking at her.

Emma is speechless; she is frozen as she looks back at him. After a moment she is standing up and calling out his name in just a whisper. She then presses the call button for the nurse to come in.

What happens after that is a rollercoaster of emotions. The nurse comes in, takes a look at the bed and then at the machines beside him and calls the doctor in. Emma is rushed outside of the room reluctantly, where she starts pacing.

Killian is awake, she saw him. He will be okay. That's what she keeps repeating to herself to help her stay focused and calm.

After what seems like hours, the doctor comes out and informs her that Killian is awake and well, that his body needed the extra time to heal from the accident, he will be very sleepy the next couple of days, but everything looks promising. Emma is thrilled, she cant contain her smile anymore, and calls everyone to let them know; she is certain they will be there soon.

When she’s allowed back in the room, she practically runs to his side;, His eyes are closed but the moment she touches his hand, they open and he gives her a small smile,

"Swan, did you miss me?" he asks.

She all but throws herself at him, being careful of his injuries and kisses him. There are tears coming from her eyes, but they are happy tears. "Only a little, Jones," she answers and kisses him again.

Christmas day is finally here; it's not the Christmas that they had planned, but she’ll take it. Killian is doing better and that's all she could ask for.

"Hey, love, have you seen my phone?"

"I am not sure, let me check the box with your things the nurse gave me when I arrived." She goes to the closet and opens a drawer. Sure enough, there is Killian’s jacket and she is searching the pockets when she something small, she pulls it out and sees a velvet ring box.

"Did you find it love? I wanted to text Liam," Killlian asks from the bed.

Stunned as Emma is, she’s able to turn around, still holding the ring box. Killian looks at her and starts scratching behind his ear, his nervous tell.

"Uhhh, um..” he stutters. ”Guess you didn't find my phone then?"

Emma gives him an annoying look and that is all it takes for him to decide that it doesn't matter that they aren't in the perfect place, or that he’s not wearing the perfect outfit; all that it matters is that he has found the perfect woman.

"Emma, come a bit closer, love." When she is within touching distance, he takes the box from her hand, and holds out his hand for her to take. When she does, he takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes.

"I had this all planned, we would go to the park, see all the Christmas lights, drink hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon and then I would ask you. But seeing as my plan got sidetracked, I can't go another moment without asking. Emma Swan, you are the light in my life, the perfect woman for me. You stood by my side at my worse and brought me back. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes a million times yes!" she answers while pressing her lips on his and seals her answer with a kiss.