#slimacwrites

But there was always someone to save. Always someone who wanted them dead.

Never time to say the words he wanted to. Ask for a future he desperately dreamed off.

Lucas reached the spot West had instructed him to leave Dorothy and he laid her down as gently as he could, slipping the long tweed jacket from his shoulders to cover her body like a blanket. She didn’t even respond. Lucas watched her, kneeling beside her, trying to memorize the face he’d come to hold so dear. Wishing he could tell her he-

“Lucas! Get out of the way! I need to bring down the tornado now!” West shouted from behind.

Then it hit him. How he could tell Dorothy what she needed to know. Ensure that she knew she’d never be alone so long as he was breathing.

“I need one second!” Lucas hollered back, moving to lift the coat from Dorothy. Her music box. Phone. Right, phone. When she’d played him those songs she’d showed him how to take a picture and a video, though the concepts still baffled him at times. There was a picture of the two of them captured on that little box but he needed to add one more. Lucas located the phone in the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled it out, calling up the needed program. Perhaps it was his desperation that made it work or perhaps the universe had finally deemed it fit to cut the two of them a break.

“Dorothy,” he started, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He coughed gruffly, needing to push through and get the words out. “Dorothy, I am so sorry, you don’t have a lot of time we have to send you back, it’s your only chance. Know that I will find a way back to you, I love you-” The phone screen went black. Cutting off anything else he might have said. Lucas frantically pressed the buttons, but nothing responded, the little machine as lifeless as Dorothy was.

Lucas roared in frustration, angry at himself for wasting time. Wasting words. He didn’t even know why he’d promised to make it to Kansas. If that would ever be possible. Was that time he could have told Dorothy more about why he loved her? That she deserved this chance and happiness? To accept permanency in her life because she couldn’t keep running? Would she even see any of his message? A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Lucas!” West shouted, sounding strained. Lucas waved to her, but never took his eyes off Dorothy. Lucas placed the phone back in Dorothy’s pocket, zipping it up, then placed a soft kiss against her cold lips. And regretted it. Because now the last memory he had of Dorothy wouldn’t be how strong and lovely she was- it would be of how wrong it felt to touch her when her fire was no longer lit.

Lucas scrambled up and back to West. The witch sputtered out words he didn’t understand as the tornado swirled lower, picking up and twisting tendrils of Dorothy’s hair in warning. Just before it touched Dorothy, there was a bark and a brown blur as Toto flew from his hiding space in a nearby building, rushing for his master and climbing on top of her legs like the guard Lucas desperately wished he could be. A moment later the Tornado touched both of them and they were gone.

“I really hope that dog came with her,” West muttered between gasping breaths.

Lucas nodded, relief that Dorothy wouldn’t be alone flooding him. “Don’t worry, Toto did.”

A strange beeping pulled at Dorothy’s consciousness. Her brain felt sluggish as it searched for an answer to the sound. Flying monkey drone? Was West doing something strange? Dorothy pried open one eye then the next, taking in her surroundings. What she saw hit her with a painful clarity.

She was lying in a recovery room in Lucas Medical Centre, Em asleep in a chair at the foot of the bed, Henry’s work coat hanging on a hook by the door.

She wasn’t in Oz.

Lucas wasn’t standing at the door watching over her.

West wasn’t making some snarky comment about how they’d defeated The Beast Forever.

Lucas wasn’t standing at the door.

Lucas was gone.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away, glaring hard at the tiled ceiling. There was so much she should have said to him. So much she wanted to say still. But she’d been so scared. It had been so easy to pretend everything else was more important, to pay attention to the needs of the rest of Oz instead of telling Lucas that she-

“Dorothy!” Em’s voice broke through her swirling thoughts, bringing her gaze back down from the ceiling to watch her adoptive mother rush to the head of the bed, features pinching when she noticed Dorothy’s tears. “Are you in pain? Do you want a shot of morphine?”

Dorothy wasn’t in pain. She could barely feel whatever injury had brought her to the hospital. But how could she tell Em that? How could she explain that she’d fallen for an amnesiac from a realm that she was brought to in a tornado? But Dorothy nodded anyways, because numb was better than the emotional pain threating her, hearing the little hiss as Em pressed the pain relief dispenser at her side.

“Do you know what happened?” Em asked, bending closer. Dorothy shook her head. She knew what had happened in Oz. She had no idea how she’d ended up in Kansas. “The tornado hit when you went to visit your birth mother. When you didn’t come home we got worried. After the storm passed Henry and I went out there and found you in a field. You’d been stabbed by something in the winds. A police dog was guarding you, barely let us close.”

“Toto,” Dorothy whispered before she could stop herself.

“What?” Em asked, pulling her chair closer so she could seat near Dorothy’s head to hear her better. Dorothy shook her head, telling Em nonverbally to keep talking. “We called the ambulance and they took you into emergency surgery right away. You needed blood and have forty stitches in your abdomen but you’ll be fine. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

Dorothy’s thoughts swam. “So you found me right after the storm?”

Em nodded. “As soon as we could.”

But what about the weeks she’d spent in Oz? What about the days she’d spent in Oz’s wilderness with no one but Lucas and the dog for company? She remembered that. Remembered finding Lucas, tared and feathered in Nimbo. Remembered being Mistress-New-Mistress after killing Mistress East. Remembered the opium laden path she’d followed for days. Remembered making love to Lucas but refusing to think of it as anything but a good fuck. Remembered the planning with Mistress West to Kill the Beast Forever. The boy they’d freed from Mombi’s apothecary and finding out that he was actually a girl, a princess no less. Remembered watching Lucas kill Mombi to save her from the witch’s anger at what she’d done. Remembered the feeling of magic and the feeling of home, somehow tied to Oz. She remembered everything.

And yet nothing seemed possible.

Had it all been a morphine fueled dream?

Had she never actually found someone she actually wanted to stay with?

Had she never had Lucas?

Pain swirled up in her, threatening to blow her apart. If she’d been in Oz it would have released in a magical earthquake. But she wasn’t in Oz. She was in Kansas and no longer knew what was real.

“I think I want to go back to sleep now.”

Dorothy didn’t wait for Em’s answer. Instead she just closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Days passed in a blur and Dorothy didn’t really care to keep track or participate more than as a passive recipient of explanations of her condition, instructions for release, Ryan’s flirting that paled in comparison to Lucas’s, or at least the man her mind had conjured up. She was told the cops had found Karen’s body in her storm cellar, a dead police officer in her home, and as Karen’s next of kin, Dorothy would inherit the trailer home after the crime scene was cleaned. The police dog who’d been at the scene, Toto (though actually named Thunder), had been retired immediately, refusing to do any tasks. Toto (Thunder) lived with his officer as a pet, though apparently kept running away to Karen Chapman’s land, apparently much to the frustration of his owner and entertainment and curiosity of the town. No one had any idea what had actually happened that night of the tornado. At least Dorothy wasn’t alone in her confusion.  But she seemed to be alone in her frustration.

After a week in the hospital Dorothy was released into the care of her adoptive parent’s home. As Dorothy was being wheeled out of Lucas Medical Centre by Henry, a nurse, Maria, rushed up to them with a white bag. “Dorothy,” she started, holding out the bag. “This stuff came in with you. It needs a wash but thought you might have wanted it back.”

Dorothy took it with a dull nod, pillowing it in her lap, not bothering to look inside as Henry began to wheel her to his truck again. Dorothy was quiet the entire ride home, pretending to sleep as they rolled past the cornfields and the sign marked Lucas before pulling into her family home. Henry helped her out of the truck and into the house, Dorothy asking to be brought straight to her bedroom. She wanted the quiet, the peace away from everyone to try and figure out what had happened, what was real.

Dorothy settled in her bed with a sigh. A few moments later there was a knock on her door as Henry reappeared, holding the white bag Maria had given her. “Here, in case you want something.”

She took the bag, settling it on her lap. “Thanks.”

Henry cleared his throat, pausing at the door. “I don’t know what happened, Dorothy, or what you’re going through, but you’ll figure it out.”

Henry closed the door, leaving Dorothy alone. She sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment before reaching for the white hospital bag. Might as well figure out if she could save her favourite flannel shirt she’d been wearing the night of the Tornado and all through her potential Oz dream. Dorothy undid the tie at the top of the bag, confused a bit at the weight of it, before pulling it open.

And losing her breath and control over the tears she’d barely been able to fight off. Because inside the bag, folded at the top wasn’t her flannel shirt. It was a long, tweed coat, far too big for her. Lucas’s coat. Dorothy pulled it out, bringing the rough fabric to her nose. It still smelled of a man’s sweat and had the dirt stains covering it of time spent in the woods, in battle. In Oz. The last time he’d been wearing it had been the battle against The Beast Forever. Had he given it to her before she was brought back to Kansas? Lucas had nearly nothing in the world, memories included, and yet he’d given her his coat. Unable to help herself, Dorothy shifted slowly, grunting a bit at the discomfort her stab wound still caused her, and pulled the coat over her shoulders, sliding her arms into the too big coat.

It was the first time she’d felt comfortable since she’d woken up in the hospital.

The first time she’d felt truly warm.

The first time she’d felt that she was remotely sane and her memories weren’t the result of a fever dream. Because where else would she have gotten the coat?

Dorothy reached back in the bag and pulled out the police jacket she’d worn in Oz. It was disgusting, stained with blood and mud. But it was there. Another element of her memories becoming tangible.

Wait-

Back in Oz, after listening to music with Lucas and kissing him for the first time, she’d wanted to keep her memories so she’d taken a selfie with him.

Was her phone still in her jacket pocket? Dorothy unzipped the pocket, feeling excitement and anxiety well up inside her. This would be the proof. The proof that everything was real. That she’d had Lucas and Oz and a home and adventure beyond her wildest dream. She pressed the home button on the phone but the screen stayed black. Dead. Hopefully just with the battery.

Dorothy cursed before digging around in her bedside table for a charging block, too sore to walk across the room for her wall plug. A few minutes of the phone being plugged into her portable charger and the little apple appeared. Dorothy pulled the coat closer around her as she waited for the phone to boot up. Once the screen had lit up she quickly pulled up her photos app.

And there it was. The selfie she’d taken with Lucas in the woods of Oz, him looking very confused as she grinned beside him.

Real.

It was all real.

But that wasn’t the last entry into the photo list. The last was a solo video of Lucas. She clicked it, confused when he would have filmed it because she was certain she hadn’t. Was it a mistake? Would she get it hear his voice? Dorothy practically slammed her finger over the video, bringing it up and holding it so close to her face that her eyes nearly crossed, as if she could get closer to Lucas by doing that.

“Dorothy,” he started. It was hard to hear Lucas over the swirling wind behind him. He was in Emerald City by the look of the background. Had he taken it after The Beast Forever was defeated? Was it some sort of goodbye message? Lucas certainly looked sombre enough for it to be. “Dorothy, I am so sorry. You don’t have a lot of time we have to send you back, it’s your only chance. Know that I will find a way back to you, I love you-”

And then the screen went black.

I love you.

Lucas loved her.

Loved her.

Dorothy scrubbed tears from her eyes and watched the video through three more times. She hadn’t made any of Oz or the people there up. She hadn’t made Lucas up. There was someone out there who loved her.

And she loved back.

But she had no way how to get to.

Despite her frustration things got easier after she’d found Lucas’s coat and video. Because she was going to get back to him. She just had to wait for tornado season. She was still Mistress East. Somewhere inside her was the power to get back and she was going. She was going back to Lucas. That determination drove her through physical therapy as she healed and the moment she had been given the okay to live alone, she moved to her mother’s abandoned house. Wanting, needing, to be close to where the tornado had picked her up and set her back down. Finding relief in the hundreds of journals Karen had kept, filled with details of Oz and magic and tornado tracking.

Two weeks into her new life at her mother’s old place, there was a barking in the yard. Toto stood there, barking at the door. The moment she rushed from the house, falling to her knees in yard, Toto was on her, yipping and licking at her face. All Dorothy could do was whisper good dog as she was overwhelmed by the creature that had guarded her and gone through two tornados at her side. Another piece slid into place because Toto clearly remembered their time together in Oz. The dog was another affirmation of her time in the land she’d come to think of as home. Toto’s owner had shown up a few hours later to get the dog but had stopped the minute he saw Toto laying on his back as Dorothy rubbed his belly vigorously. Apparently the dog hadn’t let anyone touch him since the tornado. Except for Dorothy. The woman he had protected in that field as the EMTs rushed to her. The police officer had left and returned twenty minutes later with Toto’s bowl and leash and Dorothy had a dog.

The months continued to crawl on. The first tornado of tornado season had hit everyone by surprise, a bit too early for it to be normal, but not that unheard of to be concerning. Dorothy had had no idea how to get to Oz in it, not having got through all her mother’s journals, so she’d hidden in the storm cellar with Toto, eventually falling asleep in it.

The next morning Dorothy and Toto crawled out of the shelter. Dorothy led Toto around the property, checking for damage, lingering near the scarecrow in the corn field as she always did. She could never move past it without being reminded of the man she was waiting to go back to. A melancholy feeling filled her as she trudged back to the property, relieved that there hadn’t been too much damage, just a weird little patch of grass being pulled up near where she’d touched down months prior, but disappointed she’d missed her first chance at going back to Oz. Dorothy wasn’t a patient woman and there was always that lingering fear that the right kind of tornado, or any tornado at all, wouldn’t arrive.

As she often did after she walked by the land’s scarecrow, the minute she stepped into her house, she slipped on Lucas’s coat. It no longer smelled like it had when she first got it, but she still brought the too long sleeves to her nose, comforted by the rough texture as it brushed her skin.

Two knocks sounded at the door. Toto barked, rushing to the sound, tail thumping on the wall.

“Who’s there?” Dorothy called, moving to the door.

“Someone who’s still uncertain at how this is a joke.”

Dorothy nearly ripped the door from it’s hinges as she opened it to reveal the man she’d been so determined to get back to, looking rather wind whipped. Lucas grinned at her.

Know that I will find a way back to you. Lucas had kept his promise. Somehow, someway, he’d gotten to Kansas. To her. At that point it didn’t matter how. Just that he did.

I love you.

Dorothy stepped into his space and pressed her lips hard against his. When she pulled back, she grinned up at his dazed expression. “Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Lucas asked, still baffled by the joke, but gamely playing along.

“I saw the video.”

Lucas sputtered at her words before giving her a careful look, unsure of how to continue the joke.

“I saw the video, who?” Dorothy prompted, squeezing his arm.

“I saw the video, who?” he repeated.

Only darkness every day….

In a fit of frustration, Lucas grabbed the hilt of Roan’s sword and slammed it into the ground, the frozen dirt giving way in a hissing slice. Pushing himself off the log he had been sitting on, Lucas stormed across the small space between the trees before turning on his heel and going back the same way. Pacing, as if that could find his memory. Or exhaust him beyond caring.

If the truth came out and he was the monster. No redeeming qualities. It didn’t matter who he was now- that he was Lucas now- did it? He’d still have to pay. How could he live this new life, be this new person, knowing he’d been a monster and destroyed countless others?

It was better before he knew anything about his past.

Nearing where the sword stood in the ground, Lucas swung out, kicking the flat end of the blade and causing it to wobble and whine, nearly jumping out of the ground.

“Lucas! Hey-” Dorothy shouted, hurrying from the trees, Toto hot on her heels. She reached him, grabbing for his hands.

Here was the one thing Lucas wished he knew more about.

Dorothy Gale. The girl who fell from the sky. Beautiful. Strong. Fierce. Brave. Gentle. Everything he could have ever dreamed of.

Nothing he deserved.

“Shouldn’t you call me Roan?” he snapped gruffly, spinning again and pacing away. He knew she was shooting him a confused and hurt look. It was why he was walking away.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, marching after him before grabbing the tails of his coat and yanking, using her body weight in a backwards fall. She brought him down beside her onto the hard ground before shifting on top of him and pinning him to the ground.

“I thought you said you were the man you wanted to be now? As Lucas?”

Lucas glanced away, ashamed. He had said that to her. Right before he kissed her. Kissed Dorothy. Finally gave into that attraction that had been growing between them since she’d pulled him off the crucifix in Nimbo. It was the only kiss Lucas remembered ever getting, the only sign of affection his blank mind could pinpoint. But something told him it had been the best. The most right. Even from when he was Roan.

And this house just aint no home….

“But what if I was a monster before? It’s a possibility.” Lucas didn’t feel right to him anymore, almost as if it were an ill-fitting suit or a house with a door that had shrunk in the dryness to let drafts in.

Dorothy shoved down on his shoulders, irritated. “Of course it’s a possibility. But why the hell should you punish yourself for a life you don’t remember? You’re catastrophizing. And it’s ridiculous. Should I punish myself about what kind of baby I was that made my own mother give me up?” Her voice broke on mother.

Lucas softened, hands moving up to grasp her elbows and guide her down onto him, wrapping his arms around her torso. Dorothy buried her face into his sweater, pulling in a few ragged breaths. Lucas cursed his temper. He should have been careful. He knew she took her abandonment as a child hard. It was why she was so determined to find out about that coat, supposedly of her mother, why she had reacted as she did to Sylvie.

“You weren’t in control as a baby. That’s on your mother.”

“Yeah, well, your behaviour before is on Roan. Not Lucas.” She twisted her head so she could glance at him. “If we find out the truth we’ll handle it then. Just be a good man now.”

“Even if we find out I was a very bad man?”

“Even if. Because Lucas is a good man. You’re not the Wizard Guard knight. You’re my knight. And my knight isn’t Roan, doesn’t give a shit about Roan. My knight is Lucas.” And then she shifted and kissed him. Hard. Almost angry.

And this house just aint no home/Anytime she goes away….

Lucas returned the kiss, rolling her off him and to the side so he could roll onto his own side and see her better. Dorothy was angry and scared and he was desperate and confused. But somehow, when they clashed like that, it made sense. They made sense.

When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Dorothy started at him hard. “Do you understand, Lucas?”

“Lucas,” he repeated. “Lucas of the Dorothy Guard.” Dorothy snorted in response to his words and he grinned. She gave him a good natured shove before curling into his side. Yes, they made sense. They were right.

“Want to listen to some more music before we fall asleep?” she asked, pulling out the little box.

Lucas nodded. “Can we listen to the song from before?”

With a small smile Dorothy obliged, handing him an earphone while he draped his coat over both their bodies. The quiet of the clearing, the emptiness of his mind, was filled with music again.

Toto splashed into the water, spraying Dorothy with icy droplets before hurrying from the fridgid brook. She hissed out a bad dog as she reached into her pack and pulled out a cloth, dipping the edge into the water. Behind her, Lucas was silent and she couldn’t even feel his eyes on her any longer, an abrupt, and slightly disconcerting change from the rest of the day. But she didn’t turn to check on him. Not yet.

Not until she decided what was going on.

Well not everything because she was in some weird land called Oz, had weird invisible gold gloves and was on the way to find a wizard.

But the most pressing stuff.

The Lucas stuff.

Dorothy ran the cloth across her face, scrubbing the dried blood from her skin. It had been hours since she’d been splashed by it. Hours since she’d nearly been killed and then Lucas had killed to save her.

Just like she’d killed the Witch.

Dorothy could pretend all she liked, that she’d convinced the Witch to turn the gun on herself for her own survival. But it was more. It was also what the Witch had been doing to Lucas. The flashes of his contorted body, writhing in the mud after he’d tried to pull the sword from his belt with arms that refused to work, still rushed through her brain. She’d killed to protect Lucas, just as much as herself.

Just as Lucas had.

They were far more similar than she’d anticipated, than what made her comfortable.

How could she be mad at him when he’d not gotten mad at her? She should be thankful. She should be beside him, tending to that nasty wound in his side, ensuring all the poison was out of his system. But she was scared.

Scared of meaning something to someone.

Scared of someone meaning something to her.

Dorothy sighed at her own swirling thoughts. She was in an unfamiliar world, with unfamiliar people and the only thing she had to cling to other than her own damn determination to get home was Lucas, named after a home that had never been a home but felt far more like a home when carried by the strange man. She couldn’t let that slip from her shaking fingers.

It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Or her.

Dorothy pulled a cup from her pack and filled it with water then dipped the clean side of the cloth into the creek and stood. When she turned back to the clearing, Lucas was propped against a tree, eyes shut. She approached slowly, watching carefully. She suspected Lucas wasn’t sleeping but he wasn’t looking at her either, maybe trying to give her the space her could, maybe scared to see her fear again.

Dorothy pulled in a deep breath and squatted. “Knock, knock?”

Lucas’s eyes flew open, regarding her with caution. “Who’s there?” he asked in his rough timbre after a moment.

“Me,” she answered on a whisper before clearing her throat. “Look, I uh, I’m sorry for how I behaved. You didn’t do that to me when I killed the Witch. You were just trying to protect me.”

Lucas was quiet for a few minutes, processing her words, before his lips quirked up in that almost invisible smile she’d seen back in Nimbo. “That’s a terrible joke.”

Dorothy snorted, settling on the ground beside him. “I guess it is. But I didn’t have anything better.”

“I apologize that I was a monster.” Lucas paused, features twisting. “Am? Honestly, I don’t know.”

Dorothy’s response was quick. “You’re no more monster than I.”

“I find that hard to believe. I saw myself at the apothecary’s house. I know what I look like now.” What he looked like with features full of rage and disgust, covered in blood that was both his own and the old woman’s. What he saw was what Dorothy supposed a monster would look like.

“Well it’s a good job we’ve got a creek then.” Dorothy grabbed the cloth and held it up. “I’m going to clean you up, then I’ll show you what you actually look like. Okay?” Lucas’s eyes flicked between the cloth, slightly dirtied with the blood from her own face, then back to her face.

“Okay.”

Dorothy slowly brought the cloth to Lucas’s face, pressing the dampness into the caked-on blood covering his skin. A slight pressure returned against her palm as Lucas leaned against her movements, eyes never leaving her own.

“I don’t know who I am,” Lucas said on a grunt as Dorothy pressed a bit too hard on the scrapes against his forehead as she attempted to clean them.

“Funnily enough, I don’t know who I am anymore either.”

“You really are bad with funny aren’t you?” Lucas grinned when she rolled her eyes, going back to the silence as Dorothy continued to clean.

With each swipe of her cloth more of his skin was revealed, the dirt washed away to show skin tanned from being up on the crucifix for an unknown amount of time. A scratch marred his forehead, but other than that, and the extreme exhaustion that hung from him, he looked untouched. She elicited a groan from his mouth as she scrubbed the cloth through his beard, pulling out the occasional particle of straw left by the birds and whoever had trussed him up, before tossing the cloth into the container of now dirty water.

Looking at his now fully clean face, Dorothy was reminded of the question he’d asked back in Nimbo.

What do I look like?

Handsome. She was going to say handsome back then, before she shoved that apple in her mouth. Even covered in dirt she didn’t want to look too closely at. But now she couldn’t deny it. Lucas was truly handsome.

Dorothy bit down on her tongue to concentrate on what she was doing and not thoughts that were better off pushed to the side for the moment. She checked the bandages around his wrists first, changing one that had become too dirty before pulling off the gauze that protected the wound in his side, Lucas holding the shirt off while she worked. The wound looked better than it had the day before but she slathered more of the honey and herb poultice across it to ensure the infection stayed away before rewrapping it. It wasn’t a guarantee that something else wouldn’t happen, his body so depleted after everything it had been through and she wasn’t taking chances on losing the one person she had in all of Oz. All her nursing duties completed, she was forced to look back at Lucas.

Lucas still had that ashamed, confused look. The look of someone who thought he was a monster but wanted so badly to be anything but. To be back to that confused man she’d pulled down. Dorothy wished she could voice what she thought about him but that fear still existed so, instead, she heaved herself upwards.

“Come on,” she ordered, grasping Lucas’s arm and pulling him up. “I want to show you what you look like.” Dorothy had to practically drag him to the water, allowing him to fall to his knees on the creek’s bank, body not cooperating in it’s need for sleep. “Look.” She waved at the mostly still surface of the water. Lucas gave her an unsure look before relenting to her determination and leaning over so his reflection was visible in the water.

Lucas was silent for a long moment. Eyes trained on the water surface, hands clenching the grass around his knees. Eventually, Dorothy leaned forward too so her face showed beside his own, the expression on his whiskered face one of quiet awe and trepidation.

“See?” she asked. “No monster. Just Lucas.”

“Just Lucas,” he replied.

Killian groaned, laying his head back on the headboard and staring up at the ceiling. A hand flickered at his waist, almost as if he wanted to palm himself through the jeans. One moment of hesitation before he spoke again. “I’ll repay the favour.”

“You want this though, right?” Emma asked, stepping closer, feeling the hesitation herself now. Because this wasn’t just a fuck. This was her reminding Killian that he had a body she wanted, that she wanted him, no matter how his body responded.

“I do,” Killian answered, strained.

That was all Emma needed. She climbed up onto the bed, moving on her knees over the where Killian had sunk down onto the mattress, head on the pillow with his eyes closed. Killian opened his eyes when she got closer, hand reaching towards her breasts. But not touching. Too close and too far.

“Can I?” he asked quietly, hand hovering in front of a breast. Emma nodded, unable to voice just how much she wanted his hand on her, tongue wetting her lips again as she watched the callused hand inch closer. Her back bowed as his warm touch circled one of her breasts, giving it a squeeze. It had been too long since she’d been touched. Killian groaned. Emma whimpered.

Fuck.

Another squeeze.

A warm hand wrapped around her other breast, and then Killian was kneading, hands moving and igniting a fire in her. A thumb slipped under the lace cup, brushing once, twice across her nipple.

Fuck, the friction was just enough to tease her for more. Enough for her eyes to shut. The next time a thumb brushed over her nipple it was damp. Emma’s eyes opened in surprise, looking down at Killian who watched her with a kind of awe, a shiny patch of wet on his lip from where he’d sucked a thumb into his mouth before pressing it to her.

“Good?” he asked softly.

Emma nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered back, almost scared to be loud. Killian twisted his hand so it gripped the strap of her bra and used it to pull her downwards, catching Emma off guard so she was forced to brace her hands on either side of Killian’s head to stop from smashing down on top of him.

“You’re beautiful, Swan,” Killian whispered, voice rough already. Another tug and she was closer, her face only an inch or so from his. He still smelled of the sweat that had perspired when he was under the hot lights of the studio but it wasn’t particularly cloying or at all unpleasant. It was a man’s smell and Emma could feel herself start to crave it. Emma dipped the rest of the way to Killian herself, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Killian’s tongue ran across her own, asking her to deepen it. Emma allowed him entry and Killian’s tongue swept into her mouth, long and slow. Emma lowered herself down onto her elbows, body pressed against his. The ridge of his cock pressed hard against the fly of her jeans, making her wish she had other plans than she did that night. Something that involved a base past blow job.

“You’re more beautiful than I deserve,” Killian murmured when they broke the kiss for air.

I deserve.

Emma’s heart clenched for the man who still thought himself so unworthy. She was the one who was unworthy- didn’t he know that? Didn’t he know that she was trying to show herself that they could be together, move forward, even if she was practically a peasant to his royalty? She pulled back, shifting up onto her knees. Killian’s face twisted, obviously thinking he’d said the wrong thing.

“Shirt off,” Emma demanded. When Killian looked confused, as if he didn’t expect Emma to want to continue, Emma settled further down on her haunches so her crotch settled onto the ridge of Killian’s cock and swivelled her hips. Heat shot through her. Emma had to clamp down on her lip to stop from making noise. This was about Killian.

Killian groaned out an oath, hands immediately going to his shirt. Emma twirled her hips again, causing Killian’s movements to stutter and to shoot her a glare. The t-shirt he discarded nearly hit her in the face as he attempted to toss it from the bed. Emma gave one more dip of her hips before rising again so she could get at Killian’s chest.

Fuck he was handsome.

The muscle tone was slowly returning, a slight bit of definition carving at his abs and hips, just enough so that he no longer looked wasted. That sickly pallor was gone and a thatch of curling black chest hair covered the top of his torso. Emma immediately dipped her fingers into it, combing them through the hair. Killian moaned in appreciation.

“You’re more dashing than I deserve,” Emma returned, bending and placing a kiss to his breast bone. She didn’t lift her head, instead running her lips across to a nipple before grating her teeth over it gently. Killian cursed.

“Emma.”

She repeated the movement on the other side, trailing kisses before using her teeth, earning her another curse and moan.

“Good?”

Killian nodded, tongue playing over his lips. “Just like that, lass.”

“We’re just getting started.” She moved off his nipple, kissing her way down to his belly button, shifting off an elbow so her hand could continue to brush over the hair and nipples. “Tell me if anything’s not good, okay?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Killian answered, hand slipping into her hair and scratching lightly at her scalp. Emma grinned up at him, pleased he was starting to relax, before pinching a nipple. Killian’s head shot forward, neck straining. “Fuck that’s good.” Who would have thought. Emma filed away Killian’s love of nipples, both hers and his own, before pulling her hand away and sitting up.

“Ready?”

Killian sucked in a deep breath, eyes shutting momentarily, before nodding. With Killian’s consent, Emma felt a flare of excitement and arousal shoot through her. She’d seen his chest before, but never his cock. Hands just slightly shaking, she undid his belt buckle. Killian’s hands came down to help her with the button before Emma shifted, moving off Killian and further down the bed. While she did that, Killian kicked off his jeans, revealing a pair of maroon boxer briefs.

The thick ridge of his cock was visible, hard, a damp spot collecting at the head of his cock. Emma leaned forward and ran a hand across the ridge, warm under her palm. Killian jerked, legs curling up at the sensation. Emma soothed a hand down his leg, scratching her nails against him. Killian’s dick twitched under the cotton fabric.

“Just relax,” she murmured, slowly snaking her hand back up his leg.

“Bloody hard to do with you doing this, Swan,” Killian returned, accent rough. Emma snorted a laugh. She’d definitely not done anything like this before. This not being the sex thing. She hadn’t been a virgin in years. But this with Killian. This kind of awkward, kind of hesitant and yet still hot kind of thing. Like she just snorted and Killian was still hard and nearly panting, just from her moving around his cock. Maybe this was what sex was like with someone you cared about?

Novel concept.

Emma bent forward and huffed a warm, damp breath against the head of Killian’s cock, lips brushing the maroon fabric as Killian thrust forward at the sensation.

“Fuck.”

Emma grinned against his cock before reaching up and pulling at the waistband of the briefs. Killian lifted his hips to allow her to pull them down, kicking his legs once the briefs were far enough down that he could get them off himself. When Emma looked back, Killian’s cock jutted upwards, a drip of pre-cum sliding down the back in line with a bulging vein and Killian was looking down at her.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Killian warned, already panting just from having his cock bared to her. As if she turned him on that much. The thought that she could be that wanted had a surge of heat going through her and she knew her panties would be damp. Maybe this was the result of just how long it had been for both of them. Or maybe this was what having sex was like when you felt things Emma wasn’t even close to being ready to name.

“Don’t worry,” she answered, tapping the inside of his knee. Killian spread them so she could gain access. “There will be plenty more times.” She settled on her knees, sitting so her heel was positioned the way she needed to bring some relief. “And I may just cum doing this,” she blurted, ducking her head in embarrassment a moment later when she realized how desperate she’d sounded. This was about Killian. Not her normal selfish desires.

“Hey,” Killian admonished, sitting up a little so his hand could reach forward and cup her chin. “No embarrassment, yeah? Me and you. This is us.”

“Us,” Emma echoed with a little nod. This wasn’t a one-night stand. This was her and Killian and they were learning how to be together, together. And together meant relearning bodies and pleasure away from the selfishness they’d used before with those found in bars or on dance floors.

And right then, was Killian’s turn.

Emma reached forward and wrapped a hand around the velvety hardness of Killian’s cock. Killian hissed, bowing off the bed at the sensation. Emma twisted her hand a moment, aided by the precum slipping down the cock, waiting for the moment Killian closed his eyes before dipping forward and slipping her tongue against the head. Killian cursed, legs twitching. She shifted so she could lean against one and reduce the chance of her being kicked because she had a feeling that Killian wasn’t much in control of his body at the moment. That was an injury she would not have wanted to explain to Regina.

Once Killian had settled again Emma leaned forward and instead of licking, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and sucked gently. Once, twice. Listening to Killian pant. Then she slipped her lips further down, around the ridge of the head, flicking out her tongue at the sensitive underside. Killian whimpered. A moment later she relaxed and slid as far as she could down, covering the rest of the space with a fisted hand. Killian cursed.

Emma set a rhythm then, up, down, twisting her hand as she followed her lips. Every few strokes she’d lick down the vein or suck on the space where the cock connected to the balls. Killian jerked and panted and cursed, calling out how beautiful she looked and other dirty platitudes when she hit the right spots. Emma might have been bad at meaningful sex but she was starting to learn that she was good at the actions for it.

Killian seemed to agree.

After a few more bobs and licks Killian’s hand came to rest on her hair, gently but firmly driving her rhythm faster. Toes cracked as Killian curled them, pleasure bowing out his back.

“Not. Long. Now. Swan,” Killian grit out between gasps for air, free hand balling in the sheets.

Finale time. Emma sucked in a deep breath through her nose before swallowing around his cock, shifting her weight at the same time so one hand was free to go to his balls. She cupped them gently, running a thumb over the wrinkled skin, while the other hand snaked up and scratched across a nipple. One more breath in and she swallowed around his cock again.

Killian cursed out her name, jerking his hips upward as he came down her throat. Emma pulled back, catching most of the seed in her hand as she moved her fist slowly down his length to draw out his orgasm. She panted in a few deep breaths, watching Killian’s eyes shut as he shook with an aftershock. Emma released him and stood so she could grab the Kleenex box from the bathroom and rinse and spit quickly into the sink.

Killian seemed completely oblivious to her actions, eyes shut, chest heaving, toes still curled. She had to grin down at him, the pleasure he was in undeniable. She pulled out a few tissues and cleaned him up before he could turn into a sticky mess while he may or may not have fallen asleep or blacked out. Emma really couldn’t tell at this point. After disposing the garbage, she returned to the bed, laying down next to him and pressing a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

“Okay?” she asked, watching as he cracked an eye open and turned to face her.

“Better than okay,” he answered on a sigh. Killian reached forward and pulled her close, still sleepy with that post-orgasm haze. Emma bent forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, opening when he became more insistent.

“You’re turn?” he asked, cupping her breast again.

“You’re sleepy,” she answered with a shake of her head as much as she didn’t want to. “You’ve got a big day ahead of yourself and you’re going to have no energy.”

Killian huffed in frustration. “But you’ve not been satisfied.”

“Your body needs to recover.” Emma knew going in that this was about Killian, not herself. If she rubbed one out in the shower later, so be it. Killian needed his confidence back. And needed to learn how to operate with his new body.

Killian was thoughtful for a moment. “What about this?” Killian snaked his hand past the waistband of her jeans, fingers moving just above where Emma was still dripping. She raised a brow at him. “I’m not moving. I’m resting.”

Emma couldn’t help herself, she laughed. And no small part of that was barely concealed relief because Killian was going to get her off. “I guess that could do,” she answered, unbuckling her jeans and shoving them, with her underwear, down to her ankle as Killian looked on.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, a moment later, before sliding his fingers down through her folds. Emma gasped as a callused digit brushed her clit. “So wet for me,” Killian went on, almost shocked sounding, surprised that she would be turned on by him.

“So wet,” Emma answered, rolling her hips into Killian’s hand. That seemed to spur him into action, fingers moving so his thumb could brush over her clit while he slid a finger into her, thrusting. It took no time before she was panting, having already been turned on, but now teetering on the edge. Killian slid another finger in and twisted, pressing hard against her clit. Emma pressed her lips to his, a battle of teeth and tongues as pleasure started to make that final coil in her belly.

Emma came hard when Killian pressed against her clit.

“Shit,” she panted, turning onto her back and running a finger through tangled hair.

“Good?”

“Oh yeah,” she answered.

“Next time though, we reverse the roles.”

Of course, neither did Dorothy and Lucas at that point.

And she was running away from the one thing she did know.

Dorothy stood from her spot, the movement drawing Lucas’s eye, needing a moment of separation to straighten her thoughts. She held up the clothing in her hand. “I need to change.”

“Oh,” Lucas answered, voice a gruff grunt, features twisting slightly. The memory of Lucas’s face when she came out of that room floated back to her, a bit more entertaining now that she wasn’t pretending to be Mistress-New-Mistress. A bit like how she had reacted when he’d asked how he looked and she’d nearly blurted out handsome. The dance they were doing around each other was nearly overwhelming, especially since she knew eventually it would explode and they’d either be sucked closer together or blown apart.

Dorothy snorted. “Try not to sound so disappointed. Next time you get to wear the corset.” With a roll of her eyes she tromped out of the meadow, aiming to go far enough into the forest that she couldn’t see the fire (and Lucas couldn’t see her).

“Go with her, Toto,” Lucas’s harsh voice whispered, warming Dorothy as she slowed for the dog to catch up with her. Lucas wouldn’t follow but he’d send the dog as a proxy guard.

“Good dog,” Dorothy whispered when Toto reached her, running her fingers through the course hair on the sheppard’s head, before moving a bit farther into the wood.

Dorothy had thought Lucas was a monster right after the Apothecary’s house incident. Something to be scared of. But he wasn’t. He was a protector. Her protector. What he may or may not have been before the amnesia didn’t matter, not when they were in the middle of the woods of Oz, only with each other and the dog to rely on. Lucas was Lucas.

And as terrified of permanence that she was, Lucas was going to stay with her.

Even when he said he was leaving he came back to save her from the Wizard’s Guard. Even when there really wasn’t a good reason for him to stay with her, to risk his life for her. Maybe that was what scared her, her mind searching for something to hate about him to push him away and latched on to his violence when it shouldn’t have. So she wouldn’t be upset when he left. But now Lucas had proved he wouldn’t leave and she found she was flailing, floating in a sea and trying not to let herself be pulled closer while having no reason to run away. Maybe she should stop fighting Lucas, save her strength for the bigger fight that was coming with the Wizard of Oz and let Lucas in. Maybe it was okay to want permanence.

Dorothy quickly changed into her jeans and flannel, throwing the police jacket on top, before balling the dress up in her hands and whistling to the dog who’d laid down under a nearby tree. Toto followed her out of the woods, yipping at Lucas when he looked up. Dorothy gave him a hesitant smile, the thoughts of earlier swirling in her head and pulling her in two different directions. She threw the dress into her pack and sighed, turning back to Lucas who watched her carefully.

She didn’t know what to say, how to put into words what she decided, so instead she stepped over to the log he was seated on and sat next to him. Lucas stiffened, shooting her a confused glance. She understood the hesitation. She’d been all over the place, healing him, then angry then relying on him to protect her at the castle, then walking away from the castle and expecting he’d follow. Dorothy could barely understand it all.

“Thank you for staying with me,” she whispered, voice barely loud enough to be heard above the crackling fire in front of them, flames spitting as snowflakes it them. “Thank you for not leaving.” Lucas softened, moving his sword from his lap and shifting a bit, elbow brushing her own. Taking that as a sign, Dorothy leaned sideways, resting her head on Lucas’s warm shoulder, feeling him sigh under her.

Emma turns from her to face Killian. He's sitting up, good hand pressed to his chest as it wheezes up and down. The sounds he's making cause Emma's stomach to clench. His face is red and the slight blue tinge of his lips tell Emma that he's been at this awhile now. Tears stream down his cheeks, falling onto his lap. His stump hangs lifelessly beside him.

She strides towards him, standing by the side of the bed. "Killian, hey, look at me." He doesn't. He's going to pass out if he doesn't stop this soon. Emma's brain races as she sits down in front of him. She reaches out and grasps his chin hard, her nails digging into the skin. The pain seems to focus him.

His eyes roll like a cornered animal but he doesn't pull away. "Killian, can you hear me?" Emma's not certain he can hear anything over the wheezing. "Hold your breath alright? I'll do it with you." When he doesn't immediately comply Emma adds, "think of it as a system reboot." After several long moments the wheezing stops. Emma holds her breath too, puffing out her cheeks so he'll know he's not alone in this. She counts to five before letting the air out. He follows her, his breath hitting her cheeks in a way that does not make Emma want to kiss him. Not at all. That would be crazy.

She grabs his good hand and puts it on her shoulder. "Breathe with me." Emma takes a deep breath then lets it out, watching his eyes. He's staring at his hand on her shoulder, following its movements, up and down, up and down. Soon they are breathing in sync and his face is returning to its normal colour.

Ruby moves closer, clearly relieved and tentatively takes his stump again. The bandages are off it. The skin is red and angry, a long scar makes a puckered line at the end of the wrist. It's just arm and wrist then there's nothing. It's the abruptness that's troubling, not the missing part.

Killian doesn't seem to feel the same way because he takes one look at it, turns an awful shade of green then vomits onto his shirt and the sheets in front of Emma. The sound that comes from him when he realizes what he did breaks Emma's heart.

She grabs the Kleenex from Ruby and wipes his chin clean. He doesn't meet her eyes as she does it.

"Hey, look at me," she orders. He glances up before his gaze falters and he's staring at the soiled linen again. "I have a four year old. I've seen way worse." Though the worst sights have had nothing to do with Henry at all.

Killian looks up again and Emma stands. She grasps his elbow and pulls him up as Ruby bustles over with new sheets and a clean shirt for him. Emma steps back to the wall as Ruby helps him change. Emma doesn't even bother to tell herself not to stare at his lean muscles, the curly black hair covering his chest. Just because she looks doesn't mean there's anything to it. Henry might be the only man she needs in her life but that doesn't mean she can't appreciate the view every once and a while.

Once changed Ruby unfolds a wheelchair and sets him in it. He uses his feet to wheel closer to Emma as his bed is changed.

"I'm sorry." His lap must be awfully interesting for the amount of staring he's doing at it.

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"You didn't need to come. I would have been fine."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night partner." Killian glances up then, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"I prefer Captain, lass." That lass does not affect her. It does not.

Ruby finishes the bed with a flourish and comes over, grasping the handles of the wheelchair and pulling him back to the bed. Emma pushes off the wall. It was time for her to go. Staying here with Killian was going to do her no good, not when he smirked like that. Smirks had gotten her nothing but trouble before.