Once Upon a Captain Swan

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Once Upon a Time
Captain Swan Story Book
Chief editing and compilation by @flslp87
Editing by @whimsicalenchantedrose and @flslp87
Graphics Editor - @duathadun
Cover Design by marvel-lous-captainswan
Completed – September 12, 2016
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Once Upon a Captain Swan Story Book
Who would have thought that when Emma Swan uncovered a dirty, one-handed “blacksmith” in
Season two of Once Upon a Time, that she’d actually just met her True Love? Emma Swan and
Killian Jones are a couple that not only do we watch and swoon over every Sunday, but they’re more
than that. Their romance has sparked creativity from fiction to beautiful artwork and beyond. Now on
the cusp of Season 6, join a few of their many fans as we walk you through their journey, from
Season 2 to Season 5 and beyond.
The Captain Swan Story Book is comprised of fictional works written by fans of Captain Swan. Some
of the authors may be your favorites, others you may not know. Some of the authors have been
writing for years. Some have just started. Some of the stories are brand new, others you may have
already read. But in the words of our favorite pirate, "try something new darling. It's called
trust." Trust that you will find 1, 2 or maybe even 32 stories that you will really enjoy.
The book is separated into sections. You’ll start off with canon-inspired stories divided by season and
arc. Within each arc you’ll find canon divergent fiction and deleted scenes. Next you'll find firsts and
future, from that first kiss in Neverland that makes us breathless still to this day, through their first
date and beyond. And let’s not forget those Alternate Universe stories. From lieutenant duckling to
captain duckling to “real world”, there's a wide range of stories that all feature our favorite savior and
pirate.
The last section includes some wonderful Captain Swan merchandise created by fans. You'll see
shirts, drawings, totes and room fresheners, all with links for you to purchase your very own.
The Once Upon a Time Captain Swan Story Book is the brainchild of @whimsicalenchantedrose and
@flslp87, who wanted to find a creative outlet during the Summer 2016 hiatus. We would like to
thank the 30 authors and 8 artists/graphics and 7 vendors who helped make it possible. Each story
includes the author’s fanfiction.net and archive of our own URL’s as well as both the author’s and the
illustrator’s tumblr user name. Be sure and drop a line or two about your thoughts for each story.
Thank you so much for joining us! So grab your rum (or cocoa with cinnamon), sit back, and happy
reading.
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Table of Contents
Canon
It Won’t Be Long (Till I Belong to You) ........................................................................ 9
By @revanmeetra87 and artwork by @duathadun
Just Who Are You? ................................................................................................... 17
By @itwastruelove and graphics by @duathadun
A Neverland Thank You ........................................................................................... 23
By @whimsicalenchantedrose and art work by @hopeandbeans
The Things That Stop You Dreamng ........................................................................ 29
By @mahstatins and art work by @hopeandbeans
The Ways of Magic ................................................................................................... 35
By @dani-ellie03 and graphics by @duathadun
A Captain Swan Quiet Moment ................................................................................. 41
By @thegirlwhowaited82 and art work by @flipperbrain
I’ll Show You the Stars .............................................................................................. 47
By @flslp87 and graphics by @duathadun
Hope Among Roses .................................................................................................. 57
By @whimsicalenchantedrose and art work by @scribblecat27
A Bit of Absolution .................................................................................................... 65
By @snowbellewells and art work by @hopeandbeans
First and Future
Captain Swan and Kisses ......................................................................................... 73
By @singingisfun and art work by @flipperbrain
A Thousand Candles and Live Swans ...................................................................... 79
By @the-reason-to-sail-home and art work by @flipperbrain
Always ...................................................................................................................... 91
By @startswithhope and art work by @scribblecat27
I’m Gonna Love You (Like I’m Gonna Lose You) ...................................................... 97
By @I-know-how-You-Kiss and art work by @tennant-the-tigger
Flickering Lights ...................................................................................................... 107
By @flslp87 and graphics by @duathadun
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Table of Contents cont.
First and Future
Rum and Cocoa ...................................................................................................... 119
By @thegladelf and graphics by @duathadun
She’s a Marvel: A Storybook Proposal .................................................................... 129
By @laschatzi and art work by @flipperbrain
Musings .................................................................................................................. 143
By @flslp87 and @whimcalenchantedrose and art work by @flipperbrain
Whispers ................................................................................................................ 147
By @ilovemesomekillianjones and art work by @flipperbrain
The Night Before the Wedding ................................................................................ 151
By @lizzyc807shipscaptainswan art work by @flipperbrain
Don’t Look Down; A Wedding on the Jolly Roger .................................................... 157
By @totheendofthewordortime79 and graphic by @duathadun
The Toast ............................................................................................................... 165
By @msstarlight and art work by @marvel-lous-captainswan
Taco Tuesdays ...................................................................................................... 169
By @marajade4s and art work by @marvel-lous-captainswan
Learning Curves ..................................................................................................... 175
By @blowmiakisscolin and art work by @cocohook38
Code Red: The Search for Mr. Snuggles ................................................................ 189
By @captainswanluver and graphics by @duathadun
The End, Kind of ..................................................................................................... 201
By @gusenitsaa and graphic by @duathadun
Terrifying Your Daughter’s Date.............................................................................. 209
By @nowforruin and graphics by @duathadun
Shh…they’re asleep ............................................................................................... 213
By @bromfieldhall and graphic by @duathadun
Alternate Universe
Close Encounters of the University Kind ................................................................. 219
By @mryddinwilt and graphic by @duathadun
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Table of Contents cont.
Alternate Universe cont.
What’s the Opposite of Fake Dating? ..................................................................... 227
By @Charmingturkeysandwich and art work by @flipperbrain
First Impressions ................................................................................................... 239
By @afairytaleprincess and art work by @thesschesthair
I Just Wanna Know Your Name .............................................................................. 249
By @amagicalship and graphic by @duathadun
The Fourth Overture ............................................................................................... 265
By @allyourdarlingswans and art work by @hopeandbean
Wanderlust ............................................................................................................. 275
By @hungrywhoviapotterheadfrom 221b and graphic by @duathadun
Captain Swan Merchandise
G’s & J’s Chest O’ Treasures .................................................................................. 285
Marianne Paluso ..................................................................................................... 286
ElmStudio ............................................................................................................... 287
Chooker38 .............................................................................................................. 288
Flipperbrain............................................................................................................. 289
Svenja Gosen ......................................................................................................... 290
Sarah Mac .............................................................................................................. 291
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It Won’t Be Long
(‘Till I Belong To You)
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It Won’t Be Long
(‘Till I Belong To You)
Season 2
After Belle retrieves Neal's scarf from Hook's ship, and Rumpelstiltskin nearly ends the
Captain on the deck of the Jolly Roger, can Emma convince the stubborn pirate to end
his pursuit of revenge? A season 2 canon divergence one shot, set during The Outsider,
imagining what could have happened if Archie also came to Emma for help after he told
Rumpelstiltskin to assist Belle.
Hook watched the Crocodile disembark his ship, arm in arm with his new lover, all
superior arrogance and vile sanctimony.
Face already swelling from the beating he'd just received from the Dark One's cane,
Hook tried to catch his breath, and received a mouthful of blood in the process. For
many long minutes, all he could do was stare into the cloudy grey sky, watching the
world turn without him.
He'd been close. He'd been so close to making that scrupulous librarian a witness to
exactly the kind of man with whom she was involved.
The crocodile had been just a twitch away from killing Hook—and in doing so,
effectively ending his chances of happiness with Belle forever – and yet, something had
stopped him. Somehow, the odious creature's desire to please his paramour had
overridden his urge to finish his foe.
“Why?” Hook wondered, but it mattered not. They had the scarf now, so he knew their
next move: leaving town. Poor Baelfire. He had not been lying to Belle when he'd
suggested the boy (if, indeed, he was still a child, or even still alive) would not be
pleased to see that his father had tracked him into this realm.
Hook knew he would have to make haste if he wanted to catch them, but he gave
himself another few moments to recover. As he shifted uncomfortably against the deck,
something in the pocket of his jacket nudged against him, and with delight he realized
he still had Belle's weapon; the sleek, miniscule firearm was tucked away safely.
How opportune for him. “The only proper thing for a gentleman to do would be to return
it to her, aye?”
Emma drove her bug to the harbor, grumbling to herself the whole time. She could be
helping her mother and father look at new homes but no. She had to deal with this crap.
Of course 'this crap' came with the sheriff territory, but still...why couldn’t people
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just...behave? Was this life's way of ironically paying her back for her years of petty
crime?
Reaching down to the vehicle's cup holder with one hand, Emma grabbed the glass of
ice water she'd brought from the house on her the way out the door, and took a sip. She
had so much to think about.
Her parents wanting to move to another house, Henry in turmoil over Regina's murder
of Archie – which, as she'd discovered in the last five minutes, was not even true. But
could she stop and comfort her son about it? No, she had to go deal with those idiots,
Gold and Hook, at the harbor.
At last arriving at the docks, she pulled over the bug and got out, surveying the scene.
Everything seemed normal; in fact, despite Archie's frantic claims, she couldn't even see
a ship.
But then a newspaper page, which had been tumbling from a trash bin towards the
piers, a heavy breeze carrying it ever closer to the water, stopped in midair as if frozen.
Halted in its flight towards the ocean, its edges were slightly fluttering as it was held
aloft.
“Almost as though it ran into something,” Emma thought. Then, just over the wind, she
heard it. A faint creaking, as of planks rubbing together...
“It's cloaked,” she said, amazed enough that she spoke aloud, “They actually cloaked it.
Captain Kirk has nothing on this.”
Walking down the pier, she awkwardly kicked around the left side, knowing she must
have looked like a complete fool. But her persistence paid off as at last she found
purchase on the invisible gangplank, and cautiously began ascending.
After a few steps, the ship shimmered into view, and Emma paused and drew her gun,
looking around for some evidence of a fight. But everything was still, and the only thing
she heard was the wind whistling along the deck above her.
“Hey!” she called. “Hello? Gold?”
Silence; then, a voice that was not the pawn shop owner’s quipped, “Shame; you've just
missed him. It looks like you have me all to yourself.”
There was only one voice that could irritate her on that level. “Hook?” Emma snapped,
taking her gun off of safety and stomping the rest of the way up the gangplank. “What
have you done?”
“Me?” came the innocuous answer.
She was about to continue yelling at him, but when she caught sight of him, flat on his
back on the deck, blood streaming down his face, her angry words fled from her mind.
Approaching him, she put her weapon back on safety and holstered it as she shook her
head. “So, Gold's gone, and you're down for the count. Why am I not surprised? I'm just
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amazed he left you alive.”
“It was not for lack of want, Love,” Hook replied, and while he was grinning as though he
found it all an amusing joke, she could see the pain behind the mask.
Crouching down, Emma reached out to skim her fingers over his bruised face in
assessment. At her touch, Hook drew a sharp, startled breath. Assuming she'd hurt him,
she pulled back. “Sorry. Hold on, okay? I will be right back. I'm going to get something.
And don't go anywhere; I still need to question you.”
Dazed, Hook gazed after her as she exited the Jolly. How was he going to follow the
Dark One with Swan interfering? She was not responsive to his usual methods of
distraction. Perhaps he could convince her he needed to rest and recoup on his ship.
Maybe then, she'd leave for good.
Closing his eyes, he let a soft groan escape. Now that the frenzy brought upon him by
the confrontation with Rumpelstiltskin was wearing off, the previously numbed pain was
overtaking him full force. Slowly, he sat up.
Even that was torture. Huffing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, one of the few parts of
his head that was not tender or aching. It was like the morning after imbibing too many a
drink, only magnified exponentially.
Boot steps echoed across the deck, and he opened his eyes to see that Swan had
returned. There was something in her hands. Either she very quick on her feet, or his
injuries were hindering even his sense of time.
“Swan, ask your questions and be on your way. I need to tend to these cuts.” Hook
attempted to sound impatient, but his voice was faint, even to his own ears.
“Shut up and sit still,” came the reply as she sat down beside him, long legs folding
underneath her. Without warning, something cold was pressed gently against his nose
and mouth.
Automatically his head jerked back. Another wave of pain ripped through him, but he
hardly noticed it. Was her goal to bloody smother him?
“Relax, will you? It's just the ice I drained from my drink. I wrapped it in a dust cloth from
the glove compartment. It'll help with the swelling.”
Although his head was throbbing, he couldn’t help but tilt it slightly as he looked at her.
“Where did you get ice?” And why would she use it for something as frivolous as cooling
a drink?
“From the freezer. Oh, for the love of -Would you hold still?”
“Freezers...produce ice?” What an incredible notion. Simple, yet so useful.
“They can.” He might have been imagining it, but he thought he caught a glimpse of
mirth in those green eyes. Moving more slowly than before, Emma reached over and
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held the bag of ice against his face, then shook it lightly, indicating he should take it.
Grasping the cloth, Hook watched her thoughtfully. How to ease her suspicions and
send her on her way? “What else do freezers do?” he blurted out, slightly muffled by the
fabric. Immediately his mind screamed at him. What kind of ludicrous, childish query
was that?
Quizzically, clearly unsure whether he was being sardonic or not, Emma stared right
back at him. “They keep things cold. To store food and stuff.”
“That would be a very useful invention,” Hook told her, applying more pressure to his
upper lip to stay the bleeding. “In my world, ice is a luxury. Sometimes we can preserve
food in cellars during the winter.”
“Great. You're a regular Laura Ingalls Wilder. But this is very off-topic.” Narrowing her
eyes, Swan continued. “What exactly happened here?”
“I was here on my ship,” he answered as vaguely as possible, gesturing with his hook.
“Minding my own business. The librarian came along—armed, mind you – and tried to
steal something I had below decks. I suggested she return it and leave; she argued.
Then, that coward of a Crocodile arrived and attacked me.” With a shrug, he added, “I
don't know what else to say.”
Rolling her eyes skyward, Swan said, “Oh, I don’t know. How about the facts you left
out?”
Dripping innocent sweetness, Hook inquired, “Such as?”
Leaning forward, she finally exploded in frustration. “That 'thing' below deck you're
referring to, for one! Archie! He went to Gold first, to get help for Belle, and then he
came to me, telling me that you and Cora kidnapped him. You threatened him! What
were you thinking? He had nothing to do with Gold, so don't give me your excuses.”
At this tirade, Hook was left with a loss as to what to say. Blinking a few times, he
explained, “Actually, I was talking about a scarf.”
Clenching her hands into fists, Swan moved even closer, and he could see the potent
anger written across her face. It was the closest she'd ever gotten to him without trying
to extricate herself, and he was mesmerized in spite of her demeanor.
What passion this woman had buried inside the stalwart fortress of her heart, regardless
of how reticent she acted! He couldn’t help but wonder what secrets were locked away
in that hidden soul of hers, and what it would take to find out. Certainly most would not
have the mettle to withstand her thorns.
“Hey, HEY!” Swan was practically shouting, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
“Why is your face all weird? Are you even listening?” The blows to his skull must have
caused more damage than he'd guessed, because he thought he could detect a trace of
concern edging the next words. “Can you hear me?”
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Trying to look contrite, Hook made noises of accordance. “Of course. You were scolding
me for guarding the man Cora kidnapped, I believe?”
Bracing himself for another eruption, Hook was intrigued when he heard Swan give
nothing more than a small sigh. “Why do you do that?” she asked plainly.
Forcing a sly grin, he began, “I'm sure I don’t know what -”, but she interrupted him.
“That. That's what I mean, right there. Do you think I don’t know that you're deflecting?
You figure that if you just keep talking, saying stupid and offensive things, I won't notice
what you're really thinking, or what? Why do you do it?”
Hook was suddenly aggravated, though he couldn’t have articulated why. Moving the
ice-filled cloth, he taunted, “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose for the same reasons you refuse
to talk when you're deflecting.”
Drawing back, she gaped at him, eyes widening in displeased astonishment. “Oh, my
darling, you've been transparent to me since we climbed that beanstalk,” he thought.
“Why does this surprise you so?”
Composing herself quickly, Swan tucked some blonde hair behind her ear and scowled
ferociously, as if to frighten his words away. “You can't take anything seriously, can
you?”
He laughed bitterly, which turned to coughing as he turned his head and spat out more
blood. “There is only one thing I take seriously now,” he retorted. “And that is destroying
the Dark One.”
“Yeah? Look at you now. That little confrontation didn’t end so well for you, did it?”
“It almost did,” Hook thought, and his mind turned to the gun, still in his pocket. If only
she would leave, he could go finish the job. “It doesn’t matter how this ends, as long as
it ends him.”
“What if it ended with your death?” Swan asked, but Hook didn’t hear the question. He
was thinking about the town's exit road, and how long it would take him to reach it.
“Look, okay, maybe this isn’t the nicest thing to say, but...it's been a really long time,
hasn't it? Since... After all these years, why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
Oh, so she wanted to play that way, did she? Well, he was up to the challenge. “And
how long has it been since you've been separated from your lover? Exactly how many
years? However, you're clearly past all of that. Henceforth, I shall follow your sterling
example.”
Flushing, Swan looked away. Good; he'd discomforted her. “All right, I get it. I'm sorry.
But that still doesn’t give you the right to torment a meek little psychologist. Or...cricket.
Whatever.”
He fell silent. Several moments ticked by as a gull passed overhead, screeching.
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Finally, Hook said, “She didn’t have anyone else to fight for her. Never. Her whole life.”
Swan met his glace again, and he saw the corners of her eyes beginning to sparkle with
wetness; and, perhaps, the unfortunate understanding of a Lost Girl. With a selfreproaching
shrug, he added, “This is all I can give her in death. So you want my
reason? There it is.”
What, exactly, was Emma supposed to say to that? How could she reason with a man
this dedicated? The guys she knew couldn’t commit for three weeks, never mind three
centuries. “Look, I...Put your ice pack back on.”
Incredibly, he did so without comment, and they both sat there, even as the cloudy sky
finally gave way to a mild drizzle. She knew she should be cuffing him and hauling him
to the bug, but something was telling her to stay. “I must be going crazy.”
“I thought my life was over, y'know,” Emma finally told him.
His eyebrows lifted sarcastically, wearily. “When was this? When the giant was coming
after us?”
Drawing up her knees and resting her chin upon them, Emma gave a small shake of her
head. “Nah, I’m talking ten, eleven years ago. I had just gotten out of jail and given up
Henry for adoption. It was pretty much the lowest point of my life. I felt like I’d failed him,
and I’d failed himself.” She gnawed on the inside of her lower lip, summoning the
courage to continue. At least, so far, he hadn't mocked her.
“Go on,” Hook said quietly after a few moments, and she brought her head up abruptly,
meeting his eyes. For the first time since she'd stepped on deck, she felt as though she
truly had his undivided attention and interest. “You said you had been in jail?” he
prompted.
“Uh...I won't bore you with the details or anything.” To take her mind away from the way
she was revealing the parts of herself she wanted to keep hidden most, Emma pulled
out one of Snow's handkerchiefs from her pocket and began swiping at the drying blood
on his face. “The point is my life was really just beginning. It took a while, but Henry
found me and brought me here to meet my parents. That was everything I'd ever
wanted. Okay, maybe not the part where we are the same age, and they're fairy-tale
people, but still. Now I have them, and my son. If I'd given up then, I wouldn’t have any
of them now. So just...Maybe someday, you'll have that.” As speeches, went, she knew
it was pretty feeble. But she'd put into it everything she was able to give.
“Never thought of you as an optimist, Swan,” he said at last, but his voice was
unexpectedly gentle.
Clearing her throat, Emma stuffed the handkerchief back in her pocket and said gruffly,
“Now come on. I have some more questions, and I don’t want to sit here in the rain
anymore. Will you come back with me to the station?”
Reflectively, hesitantly, he said, “Aye. Just this once. But first I ought to give you this.”
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Slowly he reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a small handgun and handed it to
her, grip first. Oddly, she didn't feel even a modicum of fear. Taking it from him, Emma
made sure it was secured before wedging it into her belt.
She grasped his arm as she led him off the ship. For procedure.
If you enjoyed this story, check out more of my fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7962872/revanmeetra87
Archive of Our - http://archiveofourown.org/users/revanmeetra87
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Just Who Are You?
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Just Who Are You?
– 3x02 Missing Scene
Thoughts about her past rushing to her mind, Emma sneaks away from camp the night
of her revealing Pan’s map to Henry. Killian - always aware of her presence - goes to
find her after she doesn’t return for a while.
Emma flung the blanket off her body, rolling to her side in another attempt at rest. She
tucked her hands beneath her cheek and forced her eyes closed as she tried to focus
on anything but the thoughts swirling around in her mind.
The uneven ground dug into her hip, beads of sweat dripping down her neck as the
stagnant air fought her lungs. The island had grown so quiet all she could hear was the
occasional rustle of someone turning in their sleep; it’s eerie presence looming over
them under the light of the moon. A few feet away her parents slept, their easy
breathing something she envied.
The map that now gave them a path to Henry should have calmed her, but as it lay
folded under the edge of her bedding, all it served to be was a reminder of everything
she had tried to forget, everything she was trying not to be.
Her mind refusing to settle, she ignored her body’s protests and sat up. Quietly, she
slipped on her boots, grabbing the map and tucking it inside her shirt for safekeeping.
She slung Neal’s cutlass over her shoulder, pausing briefly to glance back at her
parents before sneaking out of view.
She used the tip of the sword to mark the trees that she passed as she followed the dirt
path. She walked about twenty paces from camp before the land opened up to reveal
another small clearing. Finding a fallen tree trunk, she slumped down onto it,
resheathing the sword before resting her elbows on her knees.
She stared forward, the foliage around her moving occasionally from a rare breath of
wind that did nothing to cool her skin. She kept waiting for the cries to return, for the
voices of the lost boys to seep into her mind and twist what she knew to be true.
She felt a tug for a place she didn’t know, a place to return to.
A home.
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Despite her parents’ many efforts, Storybrooke remained lacking; a place to reside while
she got to know her son–something she didn’t even know how to handle with her own
parents. How was she supposed to be the parent he needed when she had been left
with no example? No way of knowing how to trust the person that birthed you but sent
you away to a life alone?
She didn’t bother wiping away the tear that left a trail down her cheek as she let the
thought come through, Pan’s words echoing off her skull, taunting her.
He hasn’t forgiven you, either.
It was proven today that she wasn’t The Savior everyone wanted--needed--her to be;
she was what she had always been: a girl who didn’t have a family who knew her, who
understood her. An orphan.
The word was one she shoved down many years ago, its inflection too heavy to carry.
She was no princess. The real world didn’t care what she wanted. Her head dropped
into her hands as the weight finally became too much–so encompassing that she didn’t
hear his footsteps until they stopped just beside her.
She quickly wiped the wetness from her cheeks, bringing her head back up and opening
her eyes to find a flask hovering just in front of her face. Hesitantly, she took it.
“It’s not wise to be out here alone, love. The jungle’s dangerous enough in the day,”
said Hook.
She ran her fingers along the leather of the flask, noting the cap already swinging from
its cord. “Did you follow me?” she asked before lifting it to her lips, grimacing as the
warm liquid slid down her throat.
“Couldn’t sleep, fancied a walk,” he replied casually.
“You followed me,” she argued plainly, staring forward. She waited for his response,
turning to him after a moment when there was none and finding the truth in his eyes.
She tipped the flask toward him before taking another sip. “At least you have rum, I
suppose.”
He huffed, tilting his head as though insulted before his face softened. There was a
short pause before he shifted his weight toward her. She kept her gaze on the ground
as he asked, “What’s vexing you, love?”
She felt his eyes on her as her thumb wiped away a drop that had escaped down the
flask. She was reminded of his earlier attempt to get inside her head and found, in the
twilight of the woods, just the two of them, she felt the pull to trust him. “Pan found me
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again,” she told him. A beat of silence passed and she felt the moment escape to say
more.
She’s grateful when he doesn’t press, instead gesturing to sit next to her with his hand
and a slightly raised brow. He waits until she scoots down the trunk to give him room.
He swung the end of his coat over the tree and she wonders how the hell he wasn’t
dying of heat stroke in that thing. He looks at her before glancing away. “Pan is
trying…and succeeding to get under your skin, using what he knows will cut most
deeply.”
“Well, it’s working,” she mumbled, offering the flask back to him.
His palm wraps around the bottle and she ignores the tingle that goes through her when
their fingers brush. Her eyes flick up to his. “As soon as you let him get to you, the battle
is all but lost,” he responded softly.
A breath is all that passes before she retracts her hand and stands up. “This island
makes me feel defenseless,” she sighed angrily, beginning to pace. “I don’t know what
I’m doing. My son is somewhere out there,” she gestures to the wildlife around them,
“being told he’s better off without me and if I lose him,” she paused, her throat clogging
with emotion at her next thought, “to that, to the same–” To the same demon she still
carried with her. She took a deep breath. “If he feels alone like I did, then I’ve already
failed.”
She’s grateful when he doesn’t respond with some optimistic retort her parents would
have given her. She sat down, her body now as restless as her mind after her
admission. Her words hang between them for a moment, both seeming to be encased
in their thoughts. She sneaks a glance out of the corner of her eye and she finds herself
unable to look away from his face, taking a moment to notice small details she never let
herself before. The line of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks. In the dim light he
looked far younger than he was, and what she expects to say isn’t what comes out.
“You look tired.”
His lips quirk up in a humorless smile. “Probably because I am,” he said.
As if on cue he raised the flask to his lips and took a long sip.
“You hear them, too,” she stated.
She sees the understanding glaze over his eyes. In that moment he discovered just who
she was and it terrified her, but perhaps worse was the lost look she saw in his eyes,
the one that now connected the two of them in a way she hadn’t anticipated. He faces
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her and she catches his eyes shift down to her lips and back before he composes
himself. “Aye,” is all he says.
“How did you survive here for so long?” she asked on a breath.
“I had to.”
The conviction in his voice surprised her. “Killing Rumplestiltskin was worth that much?”
There was a long pause before he finished. “She was worth it,” he responded quietly,
unconsciously brushing the underside of his right wrist with his hook before looking back
at her. “Your boy is worth it.”
She gave him a small smile, taking another sip of rum when he offers.
“This island was probably the largest aid to my becoming a villain,” he admitted softly a
few minutes later.
It was the first time he mentioned his history with Neverland and she had a feeling if she
asked for the story behind that statement, they would be sitting there ‘til morning. “A
villain wouldn’t have come back to help us,” she argued, looking at him. Once the words
slip out, she realizes her belief in them.
He studies her face and she feels her cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze. “If
there’s one thing I learned in my life, it’s who deserves my loyalty.” She swallowed, his
unwavering belief in her quickly becoming overwhelming but he continues before she
can respond. “The way I see it, your boy is lucky to have you, Swan, and he knows
that.” There’s a pause and what he says next nearly brings tears to her eyes. “He knows
he matters.”
She gives him a grateful smile, hoping he can’t see the way the remark overwhelms her.
After one final offer of rum that she waves off, he takes the opportunity to stand. An
unfamiliar pull goes through her, something in her wanting him to stay. He’s about to
turn when she catches his attention. “Hey, Hook?”
“Yes, love?” he asks, his brow raised.
“Thanks.”
He raised his flask, nodding in acknowledgment as he walked away, becoming lost to
the dark jungle just as quickly as he had appeared.
***
21

If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics;
FanFiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2224419/disnerdfighter
Archive of our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/disnerdfighter
22

23

A Neverland Thank You
Emma turned over once more in her bunk in the crew’s quarters. She should be
exhausted after a full week of nothing but stress and strain and anxiety as she and her
family desperately searched for a way to get her son back. She should have fallen
asleep the moment her body hit the comfortable lower bunkbed after a week of sleeping
on the ground of that damn island.
And yet, sleep was alluding her.
Judging by the even breathing and gentle snores all around her, the rest of the rescue
party wasn’t having nearly the same trouble.
After several moments of lying awake, merely staring at the bed above her, Emma
groaned, and got to her feet. No sense lying in bed just tossing and turning. Maybe
some crisp, night air as they flew through the sky would clear her head and coax the
sandman to pay her a visit.
Emma made a quick stop first to the captain’s quarters. Henry was safe, he was well, he
was unscathed as far as any of them could tell, but after the nightmare they’d all been
through, she didn’t think anyone would blame her for being a little obsessive about
checking on the kid.
She eased open the door, not wanting to wake Henry if he was asleep.
“Em?” came Neal’s sleepy voice from his chair near Henry’s bed. “There a problem?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Emma assured quickly. “Just looking in on Henry. What are
you doing down here?”
“Same,” he said simply, gesturing to the bed. “I just… I know what Neverland’s like. I
know the games Pan plays. I just wanted to make sure our kid’s dealing with it okay.”
“Is he?”
Neal shrugged. “Seems to be. Sleeping like a baby. Look Em, I know you need time to
make up your mind about me and Killian…”
“Neal…” Emma cut in.
“Just hear me out,” Neal begged. “I get it, okay? I screwed up, and I get that you’re still
pissed with me, but I just want you to know that I want to be a father to Henry. I wanna
do right by him. I had a crap father, and his father before him was even more a crap
father, but I don’t want to be that way with Henry. I want him to know I’m there for him.
No matter what happens between you and me.”
Emma felt a quick rush of affection for her former boyfriend. She didn’t know if she
could ever fully move past what Neal did to her back in Portland – at least enough to
have another go at a relationship with him, but it was clear how much he cared about
24

Henry, and Emma was grateful for that. “I’m glad, Neal,” she said simply. “I’m glad you’ll
get to spend a little time with Henry now that things are back to normal. He’ll enjoy that.”
“Thanks, Em.”
“Welcome.” She turned back toward the door. “I think I’m going to go walk the deck a
little, try to clear my head.”
Emma made her way up the ladder suddenly wished she had another sweater.
Neverland might have been a humid, sweltering jungle, but up here in the clouds, it was
a different story altogether. It was cold! She shivered as she made her way toward the
ship’s wheel, noticing Hook standing proud and tall, keeping them steady as they made
their way home.
Emma wasn’t ready to have “the talk” with Killian any more than she had been with
Neal, so she turned quietly, hoping to find a rail on the opposite side of the ship, hoping
she could creep away before the pirate saw her.
“Swan? Why are you still awake, love? It’s likely nearing two in the morning. All is well
with the lad, I hope?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, moving closer to the pirate in spite of herself. “He’s fine; fast asleep
last I checked.”
Killian nodded, then turned back to look at the sky around them. “He’s a resilient lad,
and a courageous one.”
“Let me guess; he’d make a hell of a pirate too?”
Killian turned toward her with a devilish grin. “Oh aye. Without a doubt.”
Emma narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “If you turn my son into a
pirate, Hook, you’re going to regret it.”
If anything, his grin grew even wider. “What punishments do you have in mind for me,
Swan? I’ve no doubt we could come to an arrangement that we would both greatly
enjoy.”
Emma felt a grin creeping over her face despite herself. “Yeah, that’d kind of defeat the
whole point of a punishment, don’t you think? Hardly discourage bad behavior.”
“Perhaps not,” he said softly. “Very well, I shall endeavor to behave myself.”
“Good to hear.”
For long moments they lapsed into silence. Emma was amazed at how easy it was with
him. There was no awkwardness in their silences, no urge to fill the emptiness with idle
chatter, just… contentment. It was amazing really. Captain Hook had turned out to be
nothing like she’d thought he’d be. He’d surprised her over and over again during this
week in Neverland. He’d been an unfailing help to her – to all of them, and if he hadn’t
25

een here, they’d probably still be wandering aimlessly around the island, looking for
Henry.
Emma turned slightly and looked at him. Did he know how grateful she was for his help?
She thought for a moment, and realized she’d never thanked him (well, other than for
saving her father’s life). No one had yet thanked him for his actions in getting Henry
back. It was high time someone did.
“Hey, Killian,” she began.
“Aye, Swan?”
“I just, you know, wanted to thank you,” she said quickly. “Without you, I’d have never
gotten my son back. Without you I wouldn’t even have made it to this island. Without
you we’d have no way back home.”
He looked uncomfortable, reaching up to scratch at that place behind his ear. She
watched in amusement as he pulled on his “charming rogue” persona to cover his
embarrassment.
“And before you start suggesting a method of expressing gratitude that I told you was
going to be a one-time thing,” she said with a grin, “just, you know, hear me out.”
“And then I can proposition you for a kiss, love?” he asked with feigned innocence.
She laughed. “Nice try Romeo.”
His brows furrowed in obvious confusion, and Emma realized he probably had no idea
of the reference she’d just made. It was going to be fun teaching Killian all about
modern culture – and classics from her world – over the next few decades in
Storybrooke.
Strange how she just knew he was going to stay. Normally she expected the men in her
life to run. Sooner or later they always did. How strange the very idea of Hook doing so
seemed ludicrous, laughable.
“Swan?” Killian said. “When you asked me to hear you out, I presumed you had more
you wished to say to me.”
“Yeah,” Emma said, pulling herself from her thoughts. “It’s just… I know about what
happened to your brother. I know how many bad memories Neverland must have for
you. I know it was just about the last place you ever wanted to return, and yet you still
offered your ship and your services to help find a boy you’d barely even met. You know
full well how dangerous it was to be aligned with us against Pan, but you never wavered
in your alliances. Your insights and knowledge about things here in Neverland was
invaluable to our search efforts, and you managed to save my dad’s life. I just wanted to
let you know how much it means to me.”
It was difficult to see by the negligible light of the moon, but Emma would swear Killian
blushed. “It was the right thing to do, Swan. I failed Bae many, many years ago; I had
26

no intention of further dishonoring his memory – or so we thought was just his memory
– by abandoning his son to a similar fate.”
“Was that the only reason you chose to help us?” Emma asked, trying to tell herself it
was an off-hand question.
“No,” he admitted with a grin. “There might have been a certain golden haired goddess
of a savior who I didn’t wish to disappoint.”
They exchanged a quick smile, before Killian continued.
“Ever since Liam died, I’ve been adrift,” Killian admitted. “I’ve felt as though I’ve
alienated myself from every human person who could possibly care for me. You’ll never
know what it meant to me, Emma, when you offered me a chance to be part of
something – to be part of the heroes once again. It was a lifeline.”
“Well, I’m glad you took us up on it,” Emma said, “and not just because it got us where
we needed to go. You’re not who I thought you were, and… well, I’m just glad you
chose to be a part of our group.”
Killian smiled at her, a gentle smile, full of sincerity. “For that, and anything else I might
have done to aid you and your family, you’re quite welcome.”
Emma felt a warmth creep up over her skin at the tenderness in his eyes as he looked
at her. Impulsively she stepped up to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He seemed
frozen in place for a moment, and then responded in kind, burying his face in the crook
of her neck. “You’re so much more than a pirate, Hook. You’ve become a friend. Don’t
make yourself a stranger when we get back home.”
“Not even Pan’s bloody shadow could tear me away, Swan.”
Emma smiled against his shoulder, and then stepped back, feeling a yawn rise up.
Something about being with Hook eased her mind, let her relax. She didn’t want to think
about it too closely. Was terrified, in fact, to discover the reason why. For now, she’d
just enjoy the night, the victory, the man by her side and this quiet moment in the sky.
There would, after all, be plenty of time to rebuild her walls tomorrow when the next
villain inevitably struck.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics at:
Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5342956/jdmusiclover
Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/works
27

28

Story by @mahstatins
29
Artwork by @hopeandbeans

The Things That Stop You Dreaming
A missing scene from 3x18 ‘Bleeding Through’
All his life he'd been a disaster. He'd been a whirlwind fueled by hate, by revenge, by
drink, brief sparking moments of light and joy snuffed out almost as soon as they
bloomed to life by virtue of the one fact that never changed. Villains don't get happy
endings, Regina had said, and Killian Jones must be a hell of a villain.
In his youth he'd wondered if he might be cursed. If perhaps his parents had sensed
from the off that there was something wrong with him, something that attracted the
darkness to him even then. He can still recall the way he would lie in bed at night,
fingers digging into the straw mattress as the darkness would press in on him, laying
heavy and thick on his chest while he struggled until someone struck a match and set
him momentarily free. He never had been able to free himself.
They’d all left in the end, those who'd struck the match of joy and happiness within him,
and they'd taken the light with them. The darkness had won, and he'd worn his curse
like a blessing and called it vengeance.
Until her. Until she’d stormed into his life, not bearing a light but being it, bright and
beautiful and good.
And then he'd sworn on her name, taken her name, her light, the love he'd never
thought he could feel again, and handed it over to the bloody witch on a platter. He may
as well have snuffed her out himself.
He tosses a green apple in the air (one of Zelena’s little gifts, Regina had told him with a
sneer) and wonders if he drives his hook into it the point will appear, blood red, out of
the witches’ pale throat.
Emma walks in like a beacon, shirt the colour of the deepest sea, and looks at him like
he matters.
“Where's your sense of humour?” She asks.
The universe laughs.
---
All her life she’d had an itch under her skin. It had crawled through her veins, flaring up
like wildfire whenever she spotted a lie, her superpower fizzing in the tips of her fingers
and the twitch of her nose.
It never bothered her much, it’s hard to be irritated by something as natural as
breathing, but then she’d opened her door to Henry, to Storybrooke, to magic, and the
itch became a burn. Lightning in her blood no longer a superpower, but a curse.
30

He makes it worse. In Neverland the lightning becomes fire, the orphan becomes a
saviour, and it terrifies her in ways she can barely articulate. Truth and lies and fact and
fiction screwed up and set alight by a fire she can’t control.
(I wished you were dead. A one-time thing.)
Her magic burns regardless, and she hates it.
When she leaves, magic, and family, and hope, and him, all disappear in her rear-view
mirror, and the itch along with them. She doesn’t remember to miss any of it.
But now she’s back, a tickle crawling beneath her skin, and he won’t even meet her
eyes.
At first she puts it down to his own issues. He’s not a man used to compliments, after
all, and maybe working for the good guys is making him twitchy. He’d been fine when
she’d left Henry with him. His usual obnoxious self in fact, leading with his hips into her
personal space and making her breath catch, her magic sparking so fiercely that when
he smirks at her she’s sure it’s because he can see it.
Of course he can see it, she’s an open book, after all, but right now she can’t figure him
out at all.
“Why’d you knock the table?”
He’s walking three feet from her, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if she’s carrying
some infectious disease. If it stings, she’s not about to let it show.
“Crossed my legs, as I said.”
Emma raises an eyebrow, not that he can see as he stares resolutely at the toes of his
boots.
“Doesn’t seem like you.”
“Clearly you don’t know me as well as you’d like to think, Swan.”
She balks at that and he cringes, his hand coming up to rub at his beard.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”
“It’s been a hell of a few days,” she tries to keep her voice light even as her heart seems
to be growing heavier, “maybe we just need a drink.” She bites her lip, eyes the way
he’s always turned half away from her, “Granny’s?”
His eyes flick to hers then, shadowed blue that seem to look right through her before he
directs them to the starlit sky. “Alas, I have some reading to catch up on.”
Lie, screams her magic.
31

“And you can’t read and drink at the same time?” she says. “The great Captain Hook
can’t multi-task?”
He sighs, offering her a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I could keep
you company for a little while, if you insist.”
“There is a wicked witch on the loose after all,” Emma smiles back, “can’t have you
wandering off and getting into trouble.”
She expects some quip, some jibe about how she can be his bodyguard any time she
likes, but all she gets is a shrug of the shoulders as he traipses after her towards the
diner.
It’s empty except for them and one of Granny’s most cheerless waitresses who makes
Emma’s usual with a begrudging sneer. Killian disappears upstairs as soon as the
waitresses’ heads into the back and Emma is left to sit at the counter, her knee jiggling
nervously and invisible spiders crawling over her skin.
---
He's been in some brigs in his time all right, very nearly his fair share in fact, but this,
this is surely the worst torture he's ever had to endure.
He hadn't meant to kick the table, per say. But he'd seen the look of terror on Emma's
mother’s face and it had spoken to the part of him afraid to meet the queen’s eyes in
case she could see the lingering echo of her sister’s magic around his lips. So she's not
wrong with her accusations. Men like him don't become, well, men like him through
oafish clumsiness, no, he's always been a man of tactics, of strategy.
A fine job he's doing of that. Captured, cursed, and reduced to an awkward bumbling
lad by the touch of her hand to his ruined wrist. The air around her crackles and sparks,
the danger clear and present, and gods help him he wants to run for his life (her life).
“Granny's?” She asks for the second time in two days. For a moment he wonders what
it might be to be a worthy man. Imagines her and him, cocoa and rum and greasy plates
on shiny tablecloths. He'd like to be the man worthy of the smile that's just touching the
edges of her lips, a man good enough to let her go. Alas, he's only a pirate, and he's not
strong enough to refuse her again.
He'd made up some bilge about reading, so he leaves her glaring down the waitress,
heading up to his rented room for one of the few books he managed to salvage from the
Jolly. Perhaps there’s something in here about curse breaking. Or perhaps it’s time that
he accepted that the curse isn’t just on his lips, but on him, and this stilted nighttime trip
to a third class dining establishment is the best he deserves. (She deserves better.)
A better man would go now, depart, ship or no ship, and leave her in peace. But there’s
no peace in Storybrooke, and gods help him but he can’t leave her. He heads back
down to the diner, his head bowed like a man voluntarily attending his own hanging.
32

She smiles at him brightly as he shuffles wearily onto the narrow bench seat of the
booth, one of her signature frivolous beverages sitting on the counter before her. He
tries to smile back, but then she mentions her magic and any warmth it may have had
fades into cold dread.
----
Something’s wrong, cries her magic the longer he’s away. It seems to coalesce in her
shoulder blades, a frantic itch that she stands no hope of scratching, and it’s as if her
magic itself wants to burst free from her skin and find him.
I don’t care, says her brain, even as the rhythmic jigging of her foot almost causes her
to upset her hot chocolate down herself. Then his footsteps land, solid and heavy and
oddly comforting, at the bottom of the staircase, and her traitorous heart whispers, Yes,
you do.
He slides into a booth, the book he must have gone to fetch open in front of him, and
spares her the smallest of smiles.
“So I’ve been practicing my magic,” she says for lack of anything better. His thumb rubs
along his fingers - a little nervous tick she’s noticed - and he grunts out something noncommittal.
Emma frowns. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I’m sure we’ll all be apoplectic with joy when you defeat the witch, Swan. Me more than
most I’d wager.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks at her, quirks his eyebrow in what he must think is his normal cocky way (it is
not normal in the least). “A man has his secrets, which as I recall you declared none of
your business.”
“Yeah,” she runs her finger through the cream on her drink, watches the way his eyes
can’t help but follow her movements as she licks it off, “but that was before you starting
acting so...”
Both eyebrows go up then. “So?”
“Weird,” she nods decisively, “you know a girl might start thinking you’ve lost interest.”
He laughs then, a sharp bark that makes her jump it’s so unexpected. “Ah, so that’s it! I
can assure you Swan, no matter what you might be, uninteresting is certainly not it.”
She balks at that. “So what am I, then? Just something to entertain you when you’re
bored?”
“Well wouldn’t that just be beautifully mutual?” he spits, and then his eyes go wide, the
tips of his ears turning pink, “Emma, Emma I didn’t mean…”
“No,” she takes a deep breath, “no, you did. And you’re right. I shouldn’t have said it in
the first place.”
33

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t care what a man like me thinks of you, Swan.
You’re a hero, a saviour, you have magic. What am I.”
He says it casually, as if his own utter unimportance is a given - a rule of the universe.
The tide will turn, the sun will rise, Killian Jones doesn’t matter. She knows a little bit
about what that’s like, has worn the same careless, carefree smirk in front of a
succession of caseworkers, foster parents, and nameless, faceless men. But if she
hates that mask when she sees it in the mirror then she hates it even more on him.
It’s funny, but of all the people she’s ever wanted to see through it, nobody really did,
until him. Turnabout is fair play.
Emma lifts her drink to her lips, watching him over the rim of her cup. “You’re my friend,”
she says softly, “and I do care. A lot.”
It’s a confession and it isn’t, and she’s not sure who it’s to. Her magic hums softly
though, so it isn’t a lie.
Killian looks down at his unturned page, his face pained. “You shouldn’t.”
She puts down her cocoa and fights the sudden urge to squeeze in next to him, to lie
her head on his shoulder and breathe him in. She gives herself a mental shake and
fixes him with a bright smile.
“You shouldn’t worry so much. You forget, you’re part of team hero now. We’ll be rid of
the witch soon enough, in fact, look,” she spins on her seat to face her hot chocolate,
wrinkles her nose in concentration, and closes her eyes, “watch this.”
-----
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics;
Fanfiction.net – https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1726671/eirabach
Archive of our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/eirabach
34

Story by @dani-ellie03
Artwork by @duathadun
35

The Ways of Magic
Deleted Scene from 4a
"I somehow don't find it fair," Emma Swan muttered into the emptiness of the apartment, her
hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene in front of her, "that this is Mom's everyone-helpsno-exceptions
spring cleaning day and I'm the only one here."
Snow White had officially declared today as the day everyone was to help clean the apartment
from top to bottom. No stone was to be left unturned. On the agenda was Windexing every
window and dusting every knickknack. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, the bathtub
needed to be scoured (with bleach!), and the sinks and appliances were to be polished until
they gleamed. Oh, and there was an apartment full of laundry to do, too.
And here Emma stood, all by her onesie.
She supposed it couldn't be helped. Her poor baby brother had awoken this morning congested
and coughing, his little cheeks pink with fever. As every new parent was wont to do, both Snow
and David had panicked. They'd ignored Emma's insistence that the poor little squirt simply had
a cold (as she knew they would because worried parents of a sick child tended to go from zero
to crisis in about four seconds flat) and had rushed him down to the emergency department at
Storybrooke General. They were still there now, waiting for Dr. Whale to take a look at him and
diagnose his simple rhinovirus.
They'd barely been out the door five minutes when Regina had called and offered to take Henry
down to the stables for the day. The kid had looked so excited at the prospect of spending the
day riding and hanging out with his other mom that Emma hadn't had the heart to tell him no.
Besides, what kid in his right mind would want to spend a day cleaning if he had the opportunity
to go have fun instead?
And so their cleaning party of four (five, actually, once Killian was added in) had dwindled to a
cleaning party of one. Snow and David would help when they got back and got the squirt
settled, of course, and Killian was due to arrive any minute now. He'd stopped off at the store at
Emma's request to pick up some cleaning supplies they hadn't had on hand.
But still, as of right this very moment, Emma Swan had an entire apartment to clean and just her
own two hands with which to clean it.
She'd just dropped to her hands and knees in front of the bathtub to start scouring when she
muttered, "Whoa, wait a second."
She had freakin' magic, didn't she? Who said she had to do this the hard way?
36

A sly grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she set the bleach-soaked sponge in the
bathtub. All right, she thought as she closed her eyes and started concentrating her magic, let's
see if this sucker will scrub away the soap scum stains by itself.
The magic flitted in her stomach like little butterflies, generating a warmth that spread
throughout her entire body. The warmth relaxed her and encouraged her and focused her
thoughts, making her feel like her magic could do anything, even something as silly as making
the sponge scour the tub for her.
When the warmth was at just the right temperature, Emma opened her eyes. Sure enough, the
sponge was moving up and down along the side of the tub of its own accord, doing the dirty
work for her.
Emma grinned. Okay, this? Was going to be fun.
Within minutes, she had the broom sweeping the hardwood floors on its own, a couple of
feather dusters running themselves over all of Snow's knickknacks, and a second sponge
wiping down the kitchen counter. The laundry was sorting itself into washable loads and the
kitchen sink was filling with sudsy water in which to soak the breakfast dishes.
All Emma had to do was play air traffic controller and redirect the cleaning objects to a new task
once they completed their current one.
Killian pushed the apartment door open just as the mop wrung itself out in the dirty water
bucket, plunked itself back into the soapy water bucket, and set to work on the next area of the
bathroom tile. "Bloody hell," he muttered, startled, his eyes wide with shock as he gaped at the
scene in front of him.
Then he spied the sparkle in Emma's eyes – the warm rush of her magic always left her a bit
giddy – and shot her a smirk. "Having fun, are we, love?"
"We are," she affirmed. So very much fun. She might have to clean like this for the rest of her
life!
And all of a sudden, something about her pirate standing there with that lopsided grin of his on
his lips set her heart racing and made her a little weak in the knees. She dashed over to him,
clutched his lapel, and pulled him towards the couch. "And we're also alone."
Killian grinned, setting the bag of his purchases down on the kitchen table as they passed. As
Emma pulled him into a hot and heavy kiss, all memory of magically moving cleaning supplies
fled both their minds. All that mattered was each other.
-----
Snow White ascended the stairs to her apartment slowly and silently to avoid disturbing her sick
little prince, who'd finally dropped off to sleep in his car seat. She and Charming had spent a
couple long hours in the emergency room with him only to be told that their baby boy had his
first cold.
Thank the heavens it was nothing more serious than that but now both she and Charming both
felt a little foolish for rushing him down to the hospital for a case of the sniffles. As a matter of
37

fact, Snow could already see the smug smile that was sure to cross Emma's face for at least a
split second upon hearing the diagnosis.
It went without saying, of course, that Emma would also be relieved to hear that her baby
brother simply had a case of the sniffles but yes, her daughter wouldn't be able to resist at least
a silent I told you so.
Snow finally reached the top step and let out a breath of relief. She'd managed the two flights
without jostling her son awake, which she considered a victory. As she approached the door to
the apartment, however, she heard rather panicked voices coming from the other side.
"Why won't they stop?" That was Hook.
"I don't know!" And that was Emma.
"Charming," Snow murmured, glancing over her shoulder. Her husband suddenly stood at
attention, alerted by the urgency in her tone. "Something's wrong."
Charming dashed past her and had the door open in an instant. Neither one of them was
prepared for what they saw.
Snow's broom and mop skidded around the floor by themselves, darting this way and that and
bypassing each other like two little kids sliding in stocking feet on a freshly waxed floor. Three
sponges scrubbed at nothing but air, leaving trails of soapy water on the floor below them as
they flew around the room. The feather dusters zoomed from shelf to shelf across the room at
top speed. A frantic Hook and Emma had to duck to avoid being smacked in the face with a wet
pair of Emma's pajama pants that were clearly supposed be going in the dryer.
Of all the things Snow had expected to walk in on, an Invisible Man's spring cleaning day gone
wrong was nowhere on the list.
Charming recovered his voice first. "Emma, what the hell is going on?"
"I don't know," she cried, her tone both frenzied and helpless. "I can't make them stop!"
"I take it that means you made them go to begin with," Charming deadpanned before
swallowing a snicker.
"It's not funny!" Emma huffed. Then she ducked to avoid a dive-bombing feather duster.
Snow had to swallow a chuckle of her own. Sorry, baby, she thought as she set Neal's car seat
down facing away from the pandemonium that had overtaken her living room and pulled out her
cell phone, but this actually is kind of funny.
Without wasting another second, she sent Regina a text that simply said, "SOS."
Less than a minute later (though it was still enough time for the mop and the broom to collide,
clatter to the ground, and get right back up and continue their dance through the apartment),
Regina and Henry appeared in a cloud of purple smoke.
38

"What's so–" Regina asked only to stop short when she realized exactly why she'd been
summoned. "Oh. I see."
Henry took one look at the chaos and started giggling. The poor boy at least tried to muffle his
chuckles behind his hand but when Emma shot him a weary glare, he couldn't help laughing in
earnest.
Regina let the chaos reign another moment before heaving a sigh and waving her hand. Broom,
mop, sponges, feather dusters, and laundry all fell to the floor, utterly motionless.
Emma and Hook let out breaths of relief. Snow, Charming, and Henry all stifled chuckles.
As for Regina, she was surveying the now calm scene. "Dare I ask how this happened?" she
asked, glancing up at Emma. Her gaze flicked to Hook and then back to Emma before sudden
realization lit her eyes.
Snow understood a second later. Emma's mussed hair, Hook's breathlessness, the flush of both
their cheeks … all signs Snow had mistakenly attributed to their panic over magically moving
cleaning supplies with minds of their own. Oh, Emma, she thought, working hard to swallow her
burbling amusement.
Regina quirked an eyebrow at Emma, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I applaud your initiative,
Emma, but perhaps next time you should end your enchantments before moving on to, er …"
She glanced at Henry. "Other activities. Magic is emotion, after all, which means it can be …
excitable."
Emma's cheeks burned a bright shade of red, and poor Hook looked like he wished he could
melt into the floor.
Snow bit her bottom lip to further hide her amused smile while Henry wrinkled his nose at the
implication of his mother's words. Charming just stared open-mouthed at his baby girl and her
pirate for a moment before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even
want to know," he muttered, shaking his head.
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39

40

A Captain Swan
Quiet Moment
41

A Captain Swan Quiet Moment
Missing Scene after 4-13
As Emma watched her parents leave the sheriff station, she tried to process what they
had said about Maleficent being back. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any
stranger in this town, the dragon she was sure she had slain was apparently some witch
or evil fairy and had been resurrected by Cruella De Vil and Ursula. (Seriously, what
was her life?) So now, they had three potential villains roaming town. And despite her
parents insisting they didn’t know why they had all suddenly shown up, or the fact that
she’d just told Killian she didn’t believe they were lying to her, something didn’t feel
right. Her super power was tingling and she could tell something was...off.
“Everything alright, love?” Killian’s low voice beside her pulled her out of her thoughts,
and she turned to face him, giving him a soft smile.
“Did they seem like they were acting strange?” She asked. “I know I told you I don’t
think they are lying, but I can’t help shake that something is going on.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, love,” Killian replied, giving her a reassuring smile.
“They are probably worried, just as you are, that these women they’ve had dealings with
have come to town.”
“I suppose,” Emma mumbled, more to herself than him. Sooner or later, whatever it was
her parents weren’t telling her would come out, but until they were ready she was just
going to let it go. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed, “it is getting a bit late and the Savior should get some rest.”
They walked to the door and he helped her put on her coat before they headed out.
Emma locked up and, as they headed down the street, slipped her hand into Killian’s
linking their fingers together. A gust of wind sent a chill down Emma’s spine, and she
wrapped her free hand around Killian’s arm, moving into him a little more. He was
always so warm.
“So,” she said and they walked down the street in step together, “tell me about some of
these other creatures you’ve encountered in your adventures on the high seas.”
“Ah,” he smiled, “well, let me see. Liam and I had a rather nasty time with a charybdis
once. It’s a creature that’s basically a giant whirlpool, nearly took down the ship and the
whole crew. But luckily with Liam’s cunning we managed to outrun it.”
“No doubt you helped,” Emma smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder.
“Aye, a bit,” he replied, going quiet for a minute. She knew talking about his brother was
hard. “Oh, there was that time I was stranded on an island for quite a while with this
creature called Calypso. Lonely lass, kept me there for company she said, but I think
42

she just couldn’t resist my devilishly handsome self.” He turned his head, flashing her a
cocky grin.
Emma just laughed and turned her head to rest it on his shoulder. “No woman can resist
Killian Jones,” she teased.
“None save one,” he replied, bumping his hips into hers. “But, I think perhaps I’ve finally
managed to win her over too.”
“Mmm,” she mumbled in agreement, pressing a tiny bit closer to him. It had taken him a
while, and he was relentless, but he had managed to break through her walls and win
her over. She was still a bit terrified to admit how she might truly feel about him, but
every day it was getting harder and harder to deny that she was falling in love with him.
And after their conversation at the station earlier, that her parents had so perfectly
interrupted, she was a little reluctant to say good night just yet.
Lifting her head from his shoulder, and she glanced up at him. “Can we maybe, not go
to my parents place just yet?” She asked.
Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “And where is it you want to go?” He asked. “You know
I’d follow you anywhere, but I do believe most of the town has closed up shop for the
night.”
Emma shrugged in reply. “I was thinking maybe we could have a night cap.”
“Ah, well between a former thief and a former pirate, no doubt we can get into
Granny’s,” he teased. “I do know where she keeps her finest rum, but you mustn’t tell.”
Emma laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant,” she said. “I mean, we can go to Granny’s
but I was thinking of the bed and breakfast rather than the dinner. That is where you’ve
been staying, right?”
“Swan, are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want your parents to worry if they are
expecting you home.”
It was Emma’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Killian, I’m a big girl. My parents just saw we
were together, I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Besides, aren’t you the one always reminding
me to take advantage of the quiet moments?”
“Aye, love,” he nodded. “I merely didn’t wish for them to think that I might be...er...taking
advantage of their daughter. “I don’t wish to meet the pointy end of your father’s sword.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I promise, that’s not going to happen,” she assured him.
“Despite the over protective dad act, I think he likes you,” she smiled.
Killian chuckled. “Prince Charming may have grown fond of me, but who knows what an
Evil Prince would think. I’d hate to see that version of Dave, actually. Probably stab me
in the back, like a right coward.”
43

“I don’t think you have to worry,” Emma replied. “And if does, I’ll protect you,” she
reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the check. “Now, let’s get to Granny’s cause
it’s getting cold out here.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “And you are starting to shiver, so let’s get you inside and get you
warmed up, eh?”
At the bed and breakfast Killian gave Emma his key and she headed up the room to
wait while he went to the diner, sneaking in to swipe a bottle of Granny’s finest rum and
two tumblers, before he headed up stairs to join her. Coats hung up on the rack by the
door and boots removed, they climbed into the queen size bed and Killian fixed them a
drink while Emma attempted to find something on Netflix they could watch.
Warmed up by the rum, and each other, it wasn’t long before the movie was forgotten
and they were snuggled up together. Emma’s headed rested on Killian’s shoulder, one
of her legs tucked in between his, and his arm was wrapped around her waist. His
fingers lightly traced the skin on her back where her sweater had risen up.
“If the sorting hat put you in a Hogwarts house, I bet you’d be in Gryffindor. Or maybe
Hufflepuff, with all your ‘good form’ or whatever it is you say,” Emma said softly.
Killian smirked in reply. “I have no idea what that means, love. No doubt it’s some
reference to something from this world I’m unfamiliar with.”
“It’s Harry Potter,” she said, moving her head so that she could look at him. “It’s a series
of books about this orphan boy who doesn’t think he has anything special about him.
But on his eleventh birthday he finds out he’s a wizard. It was my favorite when I was
growing up,” she explained.
“Ah,” Killian smiled. “I see.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Perhaps I shall have to
read it some time.”
“You’d probably like it,” Emma smiled back. “I bet Henry has a copy he’d let you borrow.
Or there might be one in the library.”
“And what of you?” Killian asked, bringing up his hand and brushing a strand of hair
behind her ear. “Which of these houses, as you say, would you be in?”
“Mmm, well,” Emma thought for a moment. “There are four of them. Slytherins are
ambitious and cunning, and all the bad guys came out of that house. Not that it means
everyone who’s in it is bad, but it’s got a bad rap. Ravenclaws are intelligent and witty,”
Emma smirked. “That is definitely not me. Hufflepuffs everyone kind of makes fun off,
because they are sort of considered the wimps of the wizard world, for being goody two
shoes. And pretty much all the heroes are Gryffindors,” she explained. “When I was a
kid I probably would have said I was a Hufflepuff because I was the outcast who nobody
really wanted. But now, I would probably say Gryffindor, what with the whole family of
heroes thing.”
44

“But you still don’t believe that you’re worthy of that title,” Killian said plainly. “Which
further explains why you tried to take away your magic, and why you still seem to doubt
yourself.”
“Sometimes, yeah” Emma shrugged. “I mean; I see the hero in you but you still think of
yourself as being a villain sometimes. I still see myself as that lost girl.”
Killian’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her skin as he looked into
her eyes. “I’ll always have faith in you, Emma,” he said softly. “And I as promised
earlier, I will always choose to see the very best in you.”
Emma could see in them everything she felt for him reflecting back at her, but admitting
to any deep feelings still scared her. She knew Killian would never hurt her, and he’d
proven time and again that he certainly wasn’t going to leave her. Her armor was thick
however, and part of it still wasn’t quite ready to let go all the way, but every day, he
chipped away the pieces that were left and she could feel it finally slipping away for
good. “I know,” she smiled warmly at him, “and I trust you.” She leaned in and placed a
light kiss on his lips before letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I guess I’m
more tired than I thought.”
Killian chuckled. “It is rather late,” he said, “or early I suppose, depending on how you
look at it. You should let me take you home, love.”
“Mmm,” Emma groaned in protest, wrapping her arm around his waist and snuggling
further into him as she closed her eyes. “Can I stay, please?”
“It’s fine by me, love,” he said into the top of her head. “Are you sure your parents aren’t
going to be concerned if you don’t return home?”
“We can set an alarm,” Emma mumbled, as she began drifting off to sleep. “I’ll sneak
back into the loft before they even know I wasn’t there.”
“As you wish, love,” Killian said, placing a kiss to the top of her head before reaching
over to turn off the bedside lamp, sending the room into darkness. “Sleep well, Emma,”
he whispered.
She didn’t set an alarm and woke up late, but by the time she met up with her parents
the next morning, they didn’t seem to care she’d been with Killian all night. They were
too busy worrying about Regina and her not checking in having gone undercover to find
out what the so-called Queens of Darkness were up too. Once again, crisis took over
her life but at least her pirate was by her side.
45

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46

I’ll Show You the Stars
47

I’ll Show You the Stars
Deleted Scene – between 4-15 and 4-16
Remember in 5-03, when Dark One Emma took lunch to the Jolly Roger and made a
comment about enjoying it like old times and Killian said he’d like nothing better? My
thought was when did this happen?
Emma sat at her desk trying to read over a chart but after going over the same
paragraph three times, she had to admit that her concentration was shot. Her thoughts
were on Hook. She kept thinking about how she had felt when Ursula said "your
pirate's shark bait" and how she had to fight not to run out of the cabin and go searching
for him. And then minutes later when he had walked through the door, how utterly
relieved she had been. And once again, she had fought with herself, but not to run
"away" from him, but to run "to" him.
She also couldn't help but think about their conversation after everyone had left. He
had called her his happy ending. When he had said that, she had felt that time had
stopped, and her heart had swelled with an unfamiliar emotion. As she stood there
looking into those blue eyes that so captivated her, any words she might have said were
locked inside. And while she couldn’t find the words to express her feelings, she had
wanted to convey them in some way. And so she had meant to give him a simple kiss,
but as her lips met his, the kiss was anything but simple.
A kiss, just the meeting of one's lips touching another's. Simple, yet with Killian, kisses
had always elicited emotions not necessarily ready to be handled. Interest, fascination,
like, lust, and feelings not quite ready to be named. But their last kiss at the cabin,
when time had stood still revealed what those feelings were, but sharing them with
Killian? Was she ready?
Wanting to finish what she started, Emma attempted to get back to work, but after
another half hour she realized it was futile. When her stomach reminded her it was time
for eat, she decided to take lunch to Killian on the Jolly Roger. Maybe he would be
willing to share how he got Poseidon to come to Storybrooke. And maybe even the
story about his past with Ursula.
E&K
Killian expected to have a barrage of memories the moment he stepped onto the deck
of the Jolly Roger, and he wasn’t disappointed. The memories washed over him, just as
if they were the moving pictures, that Emma's lad always mentioned. What surprised
him were that the memories were not what he had expected. They were not memories
48

of his life with Liam, or after his death or of his pirating or revenge days. No, they were
memories, that all led back to one person, and that person was Emma.
The moving picture show of his memories began with Emma's speech about being a
part of something and his thoughts as he sailed away, complete with the bean, she had
thought he had left behind. He remembered as he sailed farther away from the small
town, that being a part of something might not be such a bad thing, and he had turned
his ship around. He came back, for her yes, but once he heard about Henry, he wanted
to help him too.
The next scene in his moving memory was when Regina had told him what Greg
Mendel had said about "villains don't get happy endings and asking if he believed
that. He remembered his response had been "he hoped not as he would have wasted
his life. Ironic that it seemed that the journey toward his own happy ending had started
on that specific day with a simple decision.
Running his hand along the wheel, he waited for the next memory, which
involved finding Emma in New York. How even then she was so important he had
traded his home, of hundreds of years, for a way to get to her. How she hadn't known
who he was but had taken a chance, drank the potion and remembered. How if he had
to do it over again, he would, for a chance of a future with her.
And then finally the arrival of Ursula and while trying to help, when unsuccessful, he had
reverted to trying to solve the problem the way he had as a villain. And then the final
act of having Ariel retrieve Poseidon, and returning Ursula's voice, and the words he
had uttered to Emma. Was it too much? Too soon? Would she pull away again as she
had so many times before?
E&K
So lost in thought was he, that Emma was half way up the steps to the bridge before he
noticed her,
"Swan! Did I forget a meeting?"
"No.” She walked up the rest of the steps and continued quietly, "I thought we should
talk."
Trying not to show that she was nervous, she watched as several emotions moved
across his face. Wanting to reassure him, she held up the take out bag from Granny's.
"I brought lunch. I thought maybe...," hesitating, she looked around the ship and out
over the water.
49

"Thought what Swan?"
"I thought maybe we could go sailing."
"And work?"
Emma smiled at him and answered, "David can handle it."
Killian smiled a gentle smile before responding. "I'd like nothing better. Shall we?"
E&K
They sat down for lunch and as they ate, quietly exchanged pleasantries. Killian waited
for her to say something about his confession so was surprised when she said.
"Killian, my faith is not misplaced." Her gaze toward him showed unwavering trust.
Taking a deep breath, Killian opened his mouth and started talking about his initial
meeting with Ursula. How when they were in the pub and he heard her sing, her voice
had been so beautiful that it touched a place deep inside him for the first time in a long
while. And when she had told him her story of her voice being used as a weapon, he
had wanted to thank her by allowing her to have her freedom.
But then later that evening, her father came to him and offered a means of finding the
Crocodile and the lure had been too great. He had treated her worse than her father by
selling her freedom, for his revenge. "The look of betrayal on her face still lingers on my
mind" he murmured almost to himself.
He looked down to see that Emma had covered his hand with hers. Looking into his
eyes, she reminded him, " But you didn’t fail." How did Ursula’s father end up in
Storybrooke?
Mentally shaking himself, Killian explained about trying to give Ursula her voice and
failing and resorting to his villainess ways. She had thrown him into the sea to die, but
thankfully Ariel had saved him. And so love, I thought about you and your family and
what you would have done. Ariel swam to bring Poseidon and he returned her voice
and her happy ending.
E&K
Emma noticed that during the entire telling of his story he had barely looked her in the
eye. He had looked over her shoulder, at the table, out the porthole, but rarely at
her. When she had laid her hand over his, she noticed that he had settled a bit before
continuing his story. Once he was finished, she stood up and walked around the table
to stand in front of him. When he looked up her, she smiled and ran her hand along his
50

jaw.
"Killian, I meant what I said. You aren't that man any longer. Your past is your
past. Nothing will change things between us."
"Your faith in me is everything Swan."
Smiling at him as she took his hand and hook and pulled him up, "I like hearing that
Killian." She pulled him close for a hug, feeling his body slowly relax as he returned her
embrace.
E&K
Killian felt the weight of his past lift from his shoulders and enjoyed the soft women in
his arms. Leaning back, he looked into her eyes.
"Ready to sail away with me Swan?"
"Aye. Aye Captain." Emma dimpled.
Killian couldn't help himself, but when she looked at him like that, he kissed her. Their
lips met in a kiss of affirmation that what they felt was real and true. Their breathing and
soft moans joined the sound of the seagulls and waves that were gently slapping
against the hull of the ship. The kiss went on until their need to breathe asserted itself
and breaking apart they leaned their foreheads against each other.
As their breathing returned to normal, Killian slowly released Emma, and squeezed her
hand. "Thank you for bringing lunch. Let's cast off, shall we?"
Killian taught her how to cast off and they set off for a sail around the harbor. As the
sun started to set, he dropped anchor far enough from Storybrooke that the lights from
the town were still visible but not so much that they in any way impaired the visibility of
the stars above.
"Come love. Let me share my stars."
He led her to a place near the bow where he had brought some cushions from down
below. They settled in among the cushions, Emma's head on his shoulder with his left
arm around her. Looking up at the dark sky with all the stars shining down upon them,
Emma felt at peace. She knew it was only temporary but sharing with Killian had
released some of the fear that she had unintentionally held inside.
Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she whispered, “They're so beautiful."
51

Killian bent his head and lightly kissed the top of her head, "Aye love, they are, but none
as beautiful as you."
Emma smiled, "Smooth. A real Casanova, aren't you?"
He leaned back and looked at her, an affronted look on his face, "I know not who this
Casanova is but I speak only the truth. You should say thank you properly, "and just as
in Neverland, he challenged her by tapping that full bottom lip.
Emma got caught up in the blue heat from his eyes and responded just as she did in
Neverland, except this time she pushed her hand through his dark hair to bring his lips
to hers.
Their lips met in a heated kiss, mouths open, breath hot. She was surprised when he
let her lead, and releasing his lips, she angled her head slightly more to the side before
diving back in for another kiss. She opened her mouth, sucking on his lips lightly and
running her tongue along the seam of his mouth, she asked for more which he gladly
allowed.
She wasn't sure how long the kiss went, but she could hear their breaths coming
quicker, and becoming louder. Every few minutes, she heard a bird call out and the
waves hit against the sides of the ship, but these sounds were secondary to the sounds
and sighs coming from the man whose very lips she felt she couldn't get enough of.
The longer the kiss continued, the more active their hands became. Hers had left his
hair behind and inserted itself into the opening left by the undone buttons of his
shirt. Grateful that they had removed their jackets before laying down, she unbuttoned
a few more buttons and allowed her fingers to roam the upper part of his chest. His skin
was a mixture of warm smooth spots, and other places covered with the soft, springy
hair that she found devilishly sexy.
Emma could feel that Killian's hands were also exploring, learning her body, in an oh so
subtle way. He had moved his hand from tangling in her hair to cupping and aligning
their hips. He had then gradually soothed his hand up her back and around her
collarbone to cup her jaw. Feelings not familiar to her threatened to overwhelm as their
kisses became more hurried, each of them trying to get closer, to feel more, until Emma
almost lost track of where she stopped and he began.
E&K
When he had tapped his lip and issued the challenge to Emma, Killian hadn't expected
her to accept so enthusiastically. When her soft lips had closed over his, he had gladly
participated as kissing Emma was one of his favorite pastimes. This time though there
had been something different about her kiss, freer perhaps and when she had run her
52

hands over his body, gods, he had about come undone. Pulling her hips tightly against
his, provided a little pressure exactly where he had needed it, but was not all he wanted,
or needed. Letting her lead had become second nature during their courtship and so
when her emotions overwhelmed her and he felt her retreat, he released her lips and
buried his face in her neck, as he pulled her tightly into a hug.
Gradually she relaxed and tucking her back against his shoulder, he pointed up at the
sky. "See that there?
Emma murmured her assent. "That's Orion. He joined their hands and using them
pointed to a pattern of stars above them, "That is Cignet. She kept me company during
our year apart."
Emma squeezed his hand, "I'm sorry Killian. But you found me."
"Aye Swan, I did. A most happy day it was too," he said with a smile on his face that
didn't quite reach his eyes.
Wanting to make him smile again, she asked, "Killian, did Liam teach you about the
stars?"
His smile got bigger just as she had wanted, "Aye. I was a wee bit younger than your
boy and Liam taught me all that he knew. I remember the next morning a book about
the stars was next to my bed. Liam said he didn't put it there, but if not him, then who?"
He said as his voice faded.
"Did you keep the books? Is it in your cabin?"
Killian tightened his grip on her before answering, "I don't know."
"Let's go look." They stood together and made their way down to his cabin. With some
trepidation he walked to his shelf and searched among the books. On the bottom shelf,
tucked into the far corner, he found it. The pages were old and creased from the many
times he had read them and some corners were turned down, probably to discuss
something he read with Liam. As he flipped through the pages he allowed the
memories to wash over him.
E&K
Emma watched him for a moment, admiring the lean lines of his back, his tanned neck
and his cute little elfin ears that she found so sexy. As he flipped through the pages of
the stargazing book, she could tell that memories were flashing across his mind. He
looked up at her and the look in his eyes, almost brought her to her knees.
53

Stepping closer to him, she ran her hand along his arm, before taking the book from his
hands and putting it aside. As he continued to watch her movements, a lone tear
tracked down his cheek. Emma wiped it off and pulling his head down to hers, placed
her lips gently on his. The kiss was soft and tender. Slowly their lips slid over each
other's for several minutes before Killian moaned into her mouth and she opened further
for him. As their tongues mated in a language as old as time, their hearts beat a similar
rhythm, quietly picking up speed.
Emma lost track of how long they stood there while kissing and moaned her pleasure
when Killian's lips traveled across her face and down to her neck. His hands were not
still either, pulling her tightly against his firm body, until she could feel his hardness and
anticipation for what might come next. Expecting to be propelled toward the bed, she
was surprised when he kissed her firmly and then buried his face in her neck, his
breathing slightly labored and his arms wrapped tightly around her slim frame.
"Killian?" She asked, wondering why he stopped.
Momentarily he lifted his head, "Shall I walk you home, Swan?" He asked gently.
A slight frown appeared between her brows, "I don't understand."
"It's not the right time yet Swan. Almost, but not yet."
He kissed her tenderly on the forehead before turning toward the cabin stairs. Emma
wasn't sure what to say but followed him up, watching him closely. He picked up their
jackets and after helping her put on hers, donned his own as well. Taking her hand,
they walked across the gangplank, heading toward the loft.
As they walked she glanced at him out of the side of her eye, noticing a pensive look on
his face, but that he seemed content with the silence. She wondered what he was
thinking as taking the next step in their relationship hadn't happened yet. It wasn't that
she hadn't thought about it, because she had, a lot! But sex had always been a casual
thing and a way to scratch an itch. Her feelings for Killian were not, and if she were
honest with herself, had never been casual. She wanted their first time to be special,
not just a scratched itch, but an emotional connection, and that right there terrified her
still. In the moment she was fine, but it seemed he was right and she was an open book
to him. Squeezing his fingers, a little tighter, she leaned her head against his shoulder
as they continued walking toward home.
E&K
Killian felt Emma squeeze his fingers a little tighter, relax her body against his side and
then lean her head against his shoulder. Knowing he needed to explain himself but
unsure where to start he remained silent as they walked, until they climbed the stairs
54

outside her parent's loft.
"Emma," he began as he backed her up against the door.
"Oh, so serious" she replied.
He cupped her jaw, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her petal soft cheek,
"Remember when I said to you 'when I win your heart, it won't be because of any
trickery, it will be because you want me?"
Emma nodded her head yes but remained silent.
"It's the same with when we make love, and we will make love, Emma. It will be
because you give yourself to me, all of you, without any walls."
Killian saw in her eyes her response and before she could find voice, he put his thumb
over her lips, "Open book, remember?" He smirked, which got bigger when she rolled
her eyes.
"Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow?" He whispered.
Emma answered him with a kiss and he responded by wrapping his arms tightly around
her lithe body, and pulling her against his, allowing no space between them.
Releasing her lips, just barely, he whispered, "Thank you for lunch." Before returning to
recapture them again. He lightly sucked on her top lip, before opening his mouth farther
to enclose both of hers. The kiss went on until both were breathing heavily, and only
parted because they thought they heard someone coming. Leaning his forehead
against hers Killian closed his eyes and savored the fact that she hadn't run as he had
worried about a few hours earlier.
Dropping his arms and stepping back, Killian allowed Emma to turn and open the door,
"Night Killian." She said before slipping inside.
"Goodnight love. I'll see you in the morning." Taking a deep breath, he walked down
the steps toward home, where a one handed cold shower awaited.
K&E
Emma quietly slipped inside the loft thankful that David and Mary Margaret were asleep
and Henry was staying at Regina's as she needed to think. Think about what Hook, no,
what Killian had said as to the reason why they weren't in his bed on the Jolly Roger
right now. She wanted to make love with him, but sometimes he knew her better than
she knew herself, and that scared her too. How could one's life be so odd that the man
who turns you to mush when he kisses you is a 300-year-old Pirate? But then she
thinks as she drifts close to sleep, how can one's life be so wonderful that she has a
55

300-year-old Pirate who loves her, and supports her in every way? Anticipation hums in
her veins, for what comes next with him, is her last thought as she succumbs to sleep.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/~flslp87
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56

Hope Among the Roses
5a Canon Divergent
Story by @whimsicalenchantedrose
Art work by @scribblecat27
57

Hope Among the Roses
5a canon divergence
Killian took Emma’s hand and led her from the lively great hall into the secluded,
shadowed stairwell. As soon as they’d disappeared from the curious eyes of the
Camelot court…not to mention Emma’s family and friends…he took her into his arms
and kissed her as though his very life depended on it. She responded immediately, her
arms coming around him, her lips, against his, turning up in a smile, a small sound of
contentment in the back of her throat.
Killian kept the kiss gentle, tender, needing to show her just how much he loved her;
reveling in the fact that they were together; that she was here in his arms.
Never in his life had he experienced such panic as the moment he’d summoned her
with the dagger and it hadn’t worked. The thought that the woman who’d become his
very life had been taken to a distant land where she’d need to do battle with the
darkness on her own had been agonizing.
He thanked any god who would still listen to a reformed pirate, that they had discovered
her whereabouts—and a way to create a portal to get there—in a matter of hours.
He’d never forget the moment he caught sight of her, a solitary woman in a rough, gray
dress, walking the dirt road toward the magnificent castle of Camelot. They, none of
them, had known what state she’d be in when they found her. Regina and the
Charmings had counselled caution, advising him to approach her with care.
But he’d always been an impulsive man, and the moment he’d seen her, it simply didn’t
matter what state she might be in. He needed her like his lungs needed air. He’d
sprinted to her, taken her into his arms and buried his face into the crook of her neck,
manfully attempting to hold back the relieved tears at finding her comparatively well.
“I love you too,” he said, again and again in between quick kisses to her lips, face, jaw,
neck, anywhere he could reach, his voice cracking with emotion.
They’d proceeded to Arthur’s court, seeking the one being who might have the power to
save Emma. But in the ensuing week, their attempts had proven fruitless. It seems the
sorcerer, Merlin, had not been seen in Camelot for years—maybe centuries. There
were tales of his imprisonment by a powerful sorceress, but none knew if the legends
held any truth.
It was a blow, to be sure, but he and the rest had not come this far to simply give
up. They would locate Merlin, and they would persuade him to help them.
In the meantime, Arthur had welcomed them cordially into his castle, offering every
diplomatic advantage to the Enchanted Forest royalty that graced his court.
58

Killian was not entirely sure he trusted the king. There was something in his
eyes…calculation, cunning, something…that spoke of ulterior motives. In particular, the
way Arthur looked at Killian himself, was troubling...as was the man’s uncommon
resemblance to him. Killian’s mind went to a tale Liam had told him long, long ago
about a long lost brother, or some such relation. Killian had believed it to be merely a
fanciful story his older brother told him to help him through the first bitter days after their
father’s abandonment, but seeing Arthur…maybe there’d been more truth to that old
tale than he’d given his brother credit for.
Time would come to sort all of that out, but tonight was a night for revelry. Arthur and
his fair Guinevere had thrown a ball in honor of their distinguished guests. After a
sumptuous feast, and entertainment by the best minstrels and jongleurs Camelot had to
offer, the great hall had been cleared, and the dancing had begun.
Killian had danced with Emma until his feet ached, until the need to hold her, to kiss her
had overwhelmed him.
Thus their current passionate embrace in the secluded, darkened stairwell.
After long moments, Emma finally broke the kiss. “Not that I’m complaining, but what
was that for?”
Killian brought his hand up to tuck a strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. “Does a
man need a reason to kiss the woman he loves?”
“The woman he loves; I like the sound of that.” She smiled. “I’ve loved you for so long,
Killian. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say the same to me.”
He smiled tenderly. “You’d best prepare for the possibility, darling. I fully intend to
speak the words at every opportunity until we’re both old and gray.”
Her face fell at that, and she turned slightly away from him, but he was having none of
it. He gently turned her back to face him, his breath catching at the agony in her eyes.
“What is it, my love? What’s troubling you?”
“You know what’s troubling me, Killian,” she said in a voice liberally laced with
despair. “This darkness…It’s still inside me. I’ve done everything I can think of to fight
it, but it’s still there, always. I feel it, I don’t know, bubbling up inside of me. Every once
in a while, I get these weird flashes of anger, hatred even. And not even about things
I’d normally get mad about, just about stupid random things. My mind keeps going over
and over and over all the bad things that happened to me, you know, back in the foster
system. It’s like…it’s like this voice inside me keeps telling me that I’m alone and that I’ll
never really have anyone. And I try to push it aside, I try not to give in to it, but it’s just
so hard. Every day I feel like I’m losing a little more of myself.”
“And,” he said gently, “you feel that one day you’ll lose yourself, your true self, entirely
and only the darkness will remain?”
59

“Yeah,” she said, “exactly.”
“It won’t happen, Emma,” he said firmly, holding eye contact, desperate to let her see
the truth. “It won’t happen, because the voice inside you is a dreadful liar. You are not
alone, nor will you ever be. We’ll find a way to get this darkness out of you, but until we
do, you need never fear. I’ll be at your side forever, come what may.”
“How can you say that?” she cried, taking a small step back. “You know what the Dark
One’s like, Killian. You more than anyone! You know what kind of terrible things it
might do to you through me. I…I know you love me now, but…but what if the darkness
takes over? What if I’m not me anymore?”
Killian stepped firmly forward and took her face in his hand and hook. “Listen to me
carefully Swan. When I told you I loved you, I didn’t mean merely today. I didn’t mean
merely while things are peaceful or while you’re behaving in a heroic manner, or while
you’re fully yourself. I meant forever. For all eternity. Nothing, nothing, can ever
change that. I’m far more familiar with the darkness than I’d like to admit, and I can
assure you without the slightest hint of doubt that nothing the darkness might do will
destroy my love for you. Even should you get the perverse notion to lock me in your
brig and force-feed me that vile ‘bologna’ for all of eternity, my love will not waver.”
She smiled in spite of herself, and then sobered once more. “But I…I might be capable
of much worse than that. What if…?”
“Even should you rip my heart out and crush it before me…”
“Don’t even suggest that, Killian!” she gasped.
“…even then would my love remain,”
How was he to tell her? How was he to show her? How could he reassure her of the
truth of his statements? His hand wandered to the pocket of his red vest, and he
tapped what was inside. He’d been vaguely planning something for a while now,
perhaps it was time to put the plan into motion.
Taking her hand, he led her toward the great hall door. “Come, Swan, I’ve something
I’ve been meaning to show you.”
~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~
Emma burrowed into Killian, her arms tightening around his waist, her head resting
against his back, as the moonlit landscape rushed past them. She’d never ridden a
horse before, and she…wasn’t sure whether or not she liked it. On the one hand, there
was something utterly freeing about it, the wind blowing through her loose hair, her pure
white cloak waving behind her.
On the other…she wasn’t entirely sure this particular beast liked her. He’d whickered
and side-stepped nervously as she stepped into the stables with Killian. The darkness
60

within had sneered, telling Emma that animals sensed a person’s true nature; she was
so damaged even animals wished to shy away now.
Whatever the case, Killian had expertly calmed the horse, helped her onto its back
behind him, and then galloped toward the forest in the distance.
After a few minutes, Emma felt the horse slow, and she sat up, looking around with
interest. In the light of the full moon, Emma watched as Killian led them through a gate
and into the most beautiful garden she’d ever seen.
Flowers of various kinds and colors sat in artful patches while trees stood guard, and
flowering vines climbed the encircling stone wall. Everything about the garden—from
the heavenly scents, to the leaves gently waving in the breeze—spoke of peace and
serenity.
Killian dismounted, and then helped her to do the same, holding her in his arms for
perhaps a few heartbeats longer than necessary.
“What is this place?” Emma asked in wonder, turning in a slow circle.
“Queen Guinevere’s private garden,” Killian answered, coming to join her after securing
the horse’s reins just outside the garden wall. “There was, apparently, some manner
of…difficulty…between Arthur and Lancelot, and the queen took it hard. Arthur told me
he had the garden built so his love would have a place of beauty and refuge for the
moments when the demands of court became too overwhelming.”
“Well, it’s beautiful,” Emma said gently.
Killian kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers for a moment
afterwards. “Aye, my love, but its beauty is a pale comparison to yours. You, Emma,
are like a star, whose loveliness and luminescence puts all other heavenly orbs to
shame.”
Emma felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she chuckled. “I still have no idea how you
manage to pull off these lines that would sound cheesy as hell coming out of anyone
else’s mouth.”
He grinned. “It’s a gift darling.”
She chuckled, and then sighed. “I might be bright and, I don’t know, good, now, but
how long will that last?”
“Forever,” he said, his thumb caressing the soft dimple in her chin. “The Dark One can’t
change that. Whatever happens, whatever you become, you will still be Emma; you will
still be the woman I’m desperately in love with. I will never stop fighting for that woman,
fighting to protect her heart, no matter how far the demon may bury her within herself.”
“You’re good for me; you know that?”
61

“Aye, I know,” he said with a cheeky grin. Turning away, he reached down and cut a
single flower with his hook, then extended his hand, presenting it to her. “A pink rose,
Emma. A symbol of love, gratitude, appreciation. There could be no more appropriate
offering for you.”
Emma brought the flower to her nose and inhaled gently, closing her eyes at the sweet,
delicate scent, reveling in the romance, the beauty of the moment. “Thank you,” she
whispered “You have no idea how much it means to me, you loving me; believing in
me.”
“Oh, darling,” he said, stepping momentarily away, “I’ve only just begun. As it happens
there is another reason I brought you to Guinevere’s garden.”
Emma watched curiously for a moment as Killian pushed his black, quilted coat aside
and rummaged around in his red leather vest. After a moment, he smiled in
satisfaction, producing a small, reddish-gold ring and holding it up for her perusal.
“It was my mother’s,” Killian said. “She passed it on to Liam, and then upon his death, it
came into my possession.”
“It’s beautiful,” Emma breathed, running a gentle finger over the metal band.
“Aye,” Killian said, dragging his eyes from the ring to look at her face, “And now I want
nothing more than to place it on your finger.”
Emma gasped, turning startled eyes in his direction. Place it on my finger? Was he
about to…?
“Emma, my dearest love, you are the blood that runs through my veins. There will
never be a single day of my life I wish to be parted from you; not for an instant. You are
the missing piece of my heart that I thought to never find again. Will you do me the
greatest gift, the greatest honor of becoming my wife?”
Emma felt the tears flow freely now. Never had she wanted something more in her life.
And never had something been so out of reach.
Calling on every ounce of her strength, she took a step back from him and slowly shook
her head. “Killian…”
He stopped her with a hand to her arm. “What’s the matter love?”
“I…I want to marry you so much it’s killing me, but…” she dragged in a deep, painful
breath. “I love you too much to do that to you. Killian, while I’m still the Dark
One…while I’m still dealing with this curse…while I’m not really myself…I just can’t.”
“And that, my love is why I’m proposing an engagement,” he said, his eyes tender, his
hand moving to take her own, “not an immediate marriage. While the darkness
remains, we’ll merely remain betrothed. And once this newest evil is defeated, and
62

make no mistake, Merlin or no Merlin, we will defeat it, we can begin planning our
nuptials in earnest.”
Something new stirred in Emma’s chest, something she’d almost forgotten
existed. Hope. Overwhelmed with love, with a joy even the darkness couldn’t dampen,
Emma surged forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him with an
ardor pure enough to banish any evil.
“Yes,” she breathed, when she finally pulled away. “Absolutely, one hundred percent,
yes!”
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5342956/jdmusiclover
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The title art can be purchased - www.redbubble.com/people/artsez
63

64

A BIT OF ABSOLUTION
Story by @snowbellewells
Artwork by @hopeandbeans
65

A Bit of Absolution
Emma Swan charged doggedly through the graveyard on a mission, almost beside
herself in her urgency. Unfazed by the reddish sky hovering low around her and the
uneven ground, she plowed ahead undaunted, without pause, possible turned ankles or
face plants not a concern that registered in her current haze.
‘How did I not think of it sooner?’ was the thought echoing through her head, bouncing
around her consciousness like a pinball game within her skull. Somewhere between
returning to the ghastly mockery of the house meant to be she and Killian’s in the world
above, the loss of Milah and the stunned, robbed look on Killian’s face at almost getting
to see his first love again, and then hearing Snow’s tale of Regina finding Daniel’s grave
and the good it had done her – one idea had flashed to the forefront of Emma’s mind
and refused to let go. Of someone else who had been lost too soon and whose fate she
had never known.
Out of breath when she reached the far end of the graveyard, Emma turned, anxiously
squinting through the ruddy haze and unsure of where to go or exactly what she was
looking for. How to begin? Panting heavily, she scanned the space before her, rows of
sad, decrepit-looking markers – either cold and forgotten, cracked down the middle, or
fallen over on the ground. Finally, she pressed a steadying hand on her stomach, blew
out a breath, and simply followed her instincts. The dark trees of a scraggly forest on
the border seemed to beckon her, and she picked her way more calmly in that direction.
Then, nearly tripping at an uneven dip in the ground, Emma reached the final row of
headstones and a whoosh of air left her lips as she caught herself barely with a hand on
the nearest stone, only to glimpse the lettering on another that was lying flat before her.
The Huntsman it read in rough block letters that she reached out to trace with stunned
fingers.
“Graham,” escaped her lips in a quiet breath of relief, even as she wondered if she had
hoped it would still be standing so that she could speak to him one last time, apologize
for not believing him sooner, tell him how much his support and backing had meant to
her, and ask if he was alright. She wanted to know for certain that he had found peace
at last, and if not to make sure that they helped him do so. But if he already had, how
could she be sorry about that? After all, he had suffered for so long, could she really
wish he’d had to languish in the Underworld merely for her to be able to better say
goodbye?
Righting herself and attempting to pull her tangled thoughts back together, Emma’s
surroundings came back into focus when she heard running footsteps pounding up
behind her. “Swan!” that lovely, masculine voice whose lilt she cherished beyond all
others was calling her name as she sat back on her haunches from where she had
66

stumbled to her knees and brushed dirt off her palms. “Emma, are you hurt? Are you
alright, Love?”
Killian was at her side before she could form an answer, sliding into a crouch on the
ground at her side, pulling her into his arms and worriedly checking her over for injury.
Emma nodded ‘yes’, shakily trying to assure him that she wasn’t hurt, but it didn’t seem
to break through his concern until she gripped his hand and his hook in hers and leaned
her forehead against his to hold his gaze. “Killian, stop. Take a breath, Babe. I’m not
hurt, I promise,” she soothed, finally easing his fear.
“When I saw you fall…” he breathed out, his usually warm, sturdy voice trembling. “I
was afraid something had attacked you or sucked you in…that you would disappear…”
For a moment his words died away as he smoothed his hook over the soft strands of
her hair, then he swallowed and found his composure to continue. “I realize you
probably wanted to be alone, but I was following at a distance. I simply had to make
sure you did not encounter trouble.”
She blinked, unable to believe this man – rogue, scoundrel, whatever people might at
first believe – but beneath it, so caring, so genuine, and always wanting what was best
for her, to take care of her, in any way he could. How had she gotten so lucky?
Shaking her head, Emma laced her fingers with Killian’s and brought their joined hands
up to kiss his knuckles. “It’s alright. Now that you are here, I’m glad. I just – I hated to
ask you to do this with me when…when we can’t do the same for you.”
He tilted his head in confusion, eyebrow arched ridiculously in that way she couldn’t
resist. “Whatever do you mean by that, Swan?”
“Well, this grave,” she gestured to the whole, uncracked stone lying flat on the ground
before them. “It belongs to someone I knew in Storybrooke…someone I cared about
who died much too soon…and… well, when I heard Regina talking about finding her
Daniel’s grave…” she shrugged helplessly, still not quite sure how to put into words
what she had wanted, but met his eyes evenly and simply hoped Killian would
understand, as he so often did.
Her pirate didn’t disappoint, lightly tilting her chin with the curve of his hook and smiling
in reassurance. “You realized you could at last put your doubts to rest and find out if
this person,” he squinted curiously at the stone and then tried the title out, “this
Huntsman, has gone on to his reward or if he was still here and in need of our aid.”
“Exactly,” Emma nodded succinctly; moved to stand once more and took Killian’s
offered hand to help herself once he had done the same.
“Well,” he offered, gesturing to the resting position of the marker, “if her Majesty
informed us correctly, he is lucky enough not to be languishing in this infernal realm.”
67

Emma agreed with him, but tried surreptitiously to remove her gaze from Killian’s
focusing on the block letters of Graham’s true identity and hoped it wasn’t obvious that
she was blinking back tears. ‘Didn’t he ever have a true name until he was cursed?’ his
mind cried, right along with, ‘Why would he be here?’ in a self-chiding of frustration. ‘He
was honest and good. He thanked you when he died because he knew who he was
again. He had his answers and his peace – no unfinished business for Hades to get his
claws into. And that’s a good thing. What else did you think you could say to him
anyway?’
Of course, if she had thought Killian “Quite Perceptive” Jones would miss her turmoil
and disappointment, she was sorely mistaken. His hooked arm rubbed gently up and
down her arm as if trying to ward off the constant chill that surrounded them in a world
Emma would have expected to be burning with fiery heat and brimstone. “You had
hoped to see this person, aye?” he asked, already knowing the answer thought he
phrased his words in a gentle question. “Wished to speak with him one more time?”
“I know, silly, right?” she shrugged sheepishly, blinking back the few tears that had
nearly fallen and effectively holding them off. “I should be thrilled he didn’t have to
spend any time here…or at least that he isn’t stuck here now.”
Killian shook his head. “That is not silly at all, Emma. If I could have a moment more to
speak to Milah – either here, or as she was dying in my arms all those years ago – to
assure her once more that I loved her too, that a part of me will always hold her dear, I
would want that dreadfully as well.”
He traced his fingertips lightly along her chin, speaking to himself as much as her, but
when Emma’s eyes flew up to meet his, he stopped, wondering what he had said to
cause the look of pained recognition in her gaze. “Wait…Killian…” Emma faltered,
gripping his fingers tightly and pulling them from where they rested on her cheeks to
press them to her chest. “Milah…she-she died in your arms?”
“Aye,” Killian dipped his head, but not before Emma got a telling glimpse at the way the
blue darkened stormily with hurt and anger, even after all this time. “The Dark One
freed me from my bonds once he had crushed her heart. She was lying on the deck,
taking her last breaths to tell me she loved me. There was not even time for me to reply
before she was gone. All loving me ever earned her was separation from her boy and
an early death.”
He started to pull away, and Emma was stricken to the core by the self-loathing in his
face, so much so that she lurched forward in panic to grasp his hand and pull him back
to her. “Killian, no! You know that isn’t true!” she argued fiercely. “Maybe we haven’t
been over every detail of the life you and Milah shared – and I don’t need to know it all.
But you saved her from a life trapped and wasted. You gave her love and adventure,
and I may have just met her for a moment, but the way she reacted when she learned it
was you we were here for, I would say she counted her time with you well worth the
cost. Trust me,” she added, bring the back of his hand, joined with hers, to her lips and
68

pressed a kiss there, “having the blessing of your love myself tells me just how grateful
she must have been.”
Killian didn’t speak aloud in answer, but Emma watched closely as he swallowed hard
and pulled her more fully into his arms. Neither of them said anything for several
minutes, merely drawing solace from each other.
Then Emma leaned back slightly, trailing thoughtful fingers across the letters one more
time. “I may not understand completely. It’s different, of course, but I have thought
before that Graham could still be alive if it weren’t for me.”
“How is that, Lass?” Killian questioned, drawing back just enough to look into her face
more fully and brushing loose strands of her hair off her forehead.
“Well,” she wet her lips, hating to even think of that last night, the fight with Regina and
Graham’s collapse to the station floor, but knowing she owed Killian no less than the
whole truth after the scene he had just relived. “He hired me as his deputy, and we
became friends, so he came to me when he felt something was wrong. He felt as
though he was remembering things from another life. He kept saying he didn’t think he
had a heart, and that he had to change things…that he needed to feel something. I
encouraged him to stand up for himself, but…I never would have if I had known that
Regina had his heart from before the curse. He broke away from her, and she crushed
it. He collapsed and died in my arms as well.”
“Oh, Love…” his breath ruffled her hair lightly as he bent his head to rest atop hers and
rubbed his hand over her shoulders soothingly. “That does not make it your fault,” he
crooned lowly.
“No more than Milah’s death was yours,” Emma replied softly, stroking her fingers in
what she hoped was a light, comforting touch over his exposed collarbone and chest
showing from the open collar of his burned, stained, and much worse for wear shirt.
There didn’t seem much else for either of them to say, but for just a few moments more
they lingered close together, drawing strength and warmth in a land that thrived by
making those sent there feel nothing but cold and alone. For just a bit longer, they
didn’t worry about their next move against Hades, meeting up with the others, or how
they were going to get out of the Underworld, but simply hung onto each other. Finally,
Emma nodded in acceptance, and with one last glance, turned to walk away from
Graham’s grave, hand holding Killian’s tightly. “At least he’s finally somewhere
good…and he’s at peace,” she spoke quietly.
Killian squeezed her fingers in his, then linked their arms at the elbows. “Aye…and truly
Swan, that is no small thing.”
“I hope not,” she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder as they meandered back to
that realm’s version of their home. Still unhurried and savoring a bit of private time
reunited, knowing too that it was anyone’s guess what new threat might assail them
69

next and that there was at least some safety in numbers. It wouldn’t be wise to stay
separated from the rest of their group for too long. Of course, both of them wished to
find the way back home, to the true Storybrooke as soon as possible. They had earned
– they deserved – to begin their future in the actual house of hope that Henry and Killian
had found as a promise to her.
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to see Milah on to the other side, to her happiness…” Emma
murmured as they reached the edge of the cemetery. The words seemed woefully
inadequate, and yet she found she had to offer something. He had understood her and
helped her process what she had learned of Graham, how many times more should he
be finally able to do the same with the memory of his lost first love? Besides, having
now met Milah herself, Emma wanted more for the woman in her own right. After all
this time and her penance paid, shouldn’t she have been allowed something as simple
as passing on to find peace and forgiveness in reunion with her son? “We’ll find a way
to make it right…for you, and for her…someday.”
“Maybe,” Killian started, and he shook his head, refusing to finish the thought, as if not
wanting to let himself harbor false hope.
That as much as anything spurred Emma forward. For all that her love had been a
rascal, a villain, a true pirate, Killian had always possessed an unbelievable wellspring
of hope that fascinated and bolstered her. When they had been separated by a curse,
her very knowledge of his existence erased, he had vowed that “not a day would go by”
without him thinking of her until he found her again, when she had been almost
completely consumed by the Darkness, he had convinced her that “all sins can be
forgiven when someone loves you”. He had given up his very home on blind,
determined faith that he could cross realms and time to reach her once more. She
would not see that miraculous hope snuffed out now.
“When we defeat Hades, when we set thing to rights here, maybe the souls will be
allowed what they truly deserve at last instead of being trapped,” Emma offered, feeling
it ought to be true with all of her heart.
“Aye,” Killian agreed simply. “That certainly would be more fitting.” They stepped out
onto the Main Street once more, still hand-in-hand, and turned toward their destination
in the weird crimson light. As they ventured on, he added with heartfelt sincerity in his
words. “If nothing else, I am always willing to believe in you.”
If you enjoyed my story, please check out the rest of my fanfics;
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70

71

72

Captain Swan & Kisses
73

A Neverland Kiss
The guy is absolutely incorrigible. He’s standing there with that cocky grin on his face
that – dammit – is working, pointing to his lips in a subtle (obvious) suggestion that her
thanks should take the form of a kiss.
She knows she’s smiling because, really, she’s got to give him a little credit for
persistence, when she replies, “Yeah, that’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”
He swaggers forward in that flirty way of his, the picture of innocence he paints
completely at odds with his next question, “Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?”
He’s ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. His eyes twinkling like a fucking kid on Christmas,
asking Santa for a long coveted toy.
“Please. You couldn’t handle it.”
There, gauntlet thrown, she thinks.
(Even though somewhere in the back of her mind it also occurs to her that this is the
first time she’s ever actually flirted back with the too-blue-eyed pirate. Oh, he’s flirted
with her. He’s flirted with her plenty. But she’s never returned any of it, no matter how
tempted she was. But today, after being able to see Henry’s face and assure him that
they’re here and coming for him, she’s feeling a little too good to resist giving him a little
of his own back.)
Not to be outdone, he simply leans in. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”
He pops that ‘t’ at the end and she would swear that’s what causes the buzz that
suddenly runs through her veins. Then he gives her a smoldering look of challenge
and, well, she’s never been one to back away from a challenge.
At least that’s what she tells herself when she reaches forward and grabs the collar of
his coat, yanking him forward in a move that she hopes catches him off guard.
And it does. She can tell it does by the way he draws air in through his nose.
She feels one instant of triumph at that but it doesn’t last, because he’s kissing her back
and everything gets a little hazy around the edges. And when his hand runs softly
across the back of her head, it doesn’t feel like a challenge anymore, it feels like
something completely different… a little too gentle, a little too close. And that’s a little
too terrifying, especially when he dips his head in an effort to break the kiss. And she
can’t allow that, not when his fingers are still running gently through her hair in that
tender way, so she chases his lips and dives in for more, gripping demandingly at the
back of his head to get this back to the challenge it was supposed to be.
74

Still, by the time she breaks the kiss, they’re both breathing heavy and it occurs to her
that they’d both proven the other right – neither of them could handle it – and the way
he lets his lips linger in front of hers, tells her that he knows it, too. But he doesn’t seem
to care who won or who lost, and that terrifies her even more because she realizes that
this has stopped being about a challenge for him.
“That was…”
“A one-time thing,” she finishes for him, releasing his collar with a little tug that pushes
his all too tempting mouth further from hers.
She wants him to look annoyed but he doesn’t. Instead his features read confused and
hurt and she realizes she’s got to get out of here – like now.
Turning away from the question she knows he wants to ask, she starts walking away,
her voice showing only the barest bit of the breathlessness she feels, when she says,
“Don’t follow me. Go get some firewood or something.”
“As you wish,” he replies, not bothering to cover his own breathlessness and, since he
can’t see her face, she lets a smile light her features. He’ll never know, anyway, just
how sweet she thinks it is that he keeps proving one of the first things he told her about
himself.
He truly is a gentleman.
75

I Can’t Lose You Too
He’s been anxious all day, his heart beating dully in his chest ever since she dismissed
him to the sheriff’s station this afternoon. It’s always one step forward and two steps
back with this woman. And it’s happening again. After last night, when she’d sunk her
head into his chest, when she’d allowed him to warm her icy hand by holding it in his,
when he’d finally felt like she was truly opening up and letting him be the man he longs
to be for her, here she goes pushing him away again.
She’s retreating behind those walls right before his very eyes and there’s nothing he
can do to stop it, it seems. But he won’t give up. He’ll sit here and wait for her to alight
from that door until daybreak, if necessary. And while he’s at it, he’ll stew and sip at his
rum.
He knows she doesn’t trust easily. He knows she’s got a lot to deal with. But, dammit,
hasn’t he proven himself to be a worthy ally? Even if she doesn’t return his feelings,
hasn’t he proven, at the very least, that she can trust him? Doesn’t she realize he’ll
never sit idly by while she rushes into danger?
Laying the flask down on the table, he rubs his hand over his heart, as though he can
force the weight in it to dissipate by doing so. It doesn’t help. Of course, it doesn’t help.
It’s not physical weight. It’s an emotional one, and one he knows won’t be lifted until he
confronts her and finds out exactly where they stand.
So here he sits, apart from all the others inside, patiently (impatiently) waiting for her to
come out.
He gives up on trying to massage the ache out of his heart and takes another drink of
rum.
And another.
The rum is just starting to warm his system, relaxing his limbs and easing the sinking
feeling in his chest (fractionally) when the door finally opens and she barrels through it.
He tries to be nonchalant about asking her to have a drink but she blows past him,
barely looking in his direction and his heart smacks into his ribs with frustration.
She’s running, almost literally this time, and he’s not going to let her get away with it.
So he vaults to his feet and follows her, demanding an explanation.
He catches her with his hook on her arm, already out of breath – not from the chase but
from how hard his heart is pounding in anxiety.
“I know it feels like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders but at some
point, even though we’re quite different, you’ve got to trust me.”
76

She rankles at that, looking at him with what could almost be distain and his heartrate
spikes even faster. “You think that’s what this is about? That I don’t trust you?”
“Is that not what it’s about?
“Of course I trust you!” she declares heatedly and it’s almost relief to see her lose
control because it allows him to let loose some of his own frustration.
“Then why do you keep pulling away from me?!”
“Because everyone I’ve ever been with is dead!” she nearly shouts, freezing any retort
he might have on his tongue, the ache in his heart shifting instantly from self-pity to
tender sympathy as she continues, “Neal, Graham, even Walsh. I lost everyone. I – I
can’t lose you, too.”
And now his heart is swelling, it’s still beating frantically, but it’s swelling with just how
much he bloody loves this woman. “Well, love, you don’t have to worry about me. If
there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”
Her eyes mist, her face open and vulnerable, and he can’t stand to see her troubled.
So he closes the distance and catches her lips with his. He realizes about two seconds
into the kiss that he should probably slow down, cherish this declaration from her with
gentle finesse. And he tries, he really does, but his heart sets the pace, the dull ache
he’s had all day morphing into a desperate need to devour.
His fingers find their way into her hair when she opens her mouth to him, passion
sizzling between their joined lips. He shifts the angle and goes deeper, glorying in the
way her hand snakes under his coat. It damn near makes him growl with appreciation
because she seems just as desperate as he is to be rid of whatever frustrations are
plaguing her, and what better way to do that than taking it out on his lips.
He doesn’t know how long it goes on but it never slows, their panting breaths mixing
together in between the nips and sucks, their mouths plunging and retreating in perfect
synchronization until he doesn’t know who is actually in control anymore.
But it doesn’t matter, because by the time they finally separate, the weight he’d been
carrying all day is gone and Emma is in his arms, both of them nearly drooping in relief
from their shared release of frustration.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics;
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5438397/singingisfun
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/singingisfun
Title art can be purchased – www.redbubble.com/people/flipperbrain
77

78

A Thousand Candles
and
Live Swans
Killian and Emma’s First Date
Story by @the-reason-to-sail-home
Artwork by @flipperbrain
79

A Thousand Candles and Live Swans –
Killian and Emma’s First Date
“I’d like to humbly thank you for asking for my company this evening. I’m having a great
time!” Killian said, staring at the empty seat across from him. He sat with his arms
folded in front of him on the wooden table of his quarters. His tightly woven fingers
shook with performance anxiety, an odd feeling to have when addressing an imaginary
woman.
He probably sounded ridiculous, rehearsing their date like this. It was times like these
that Killian was almost glad he didn’t have the Jolly Roger. The last thing he needed
was his crew overhearing him pretending to woo a woman while he was alone in his
cabin.
Not that Killian Jones needed to practice his wooing skills. He knew how to charm a
lady, thank you very much. This was simply a fortification of sorts that he hoped would
embolden his natural ability.
It’s just that when he started thinking about what he’d say to her during the date, the
things they’d talk about and all, Killian realized in his head he sounded like a right git.
Turns out, he sounded even more ridiculous out loud. But it was necessary. He had one
shot for a quiet evening with Emma. If this night didn’t go well, Killian doubted he’d have
a second chance to make it up to her.
“I chose this restaurant just for tonight,” Killian spoke, trying his opening line again. “Just
for you.”
Killian dropped his head into his hand, ruffling his hair to try to shake some sense into
himself. He sounded like a stalker. If Liam was here, he’d just say Be yourself little
brother - younger brother - and don’t overthink it.
Liam would be right, of course, but it didn’t make it any easier. Be himself? Who even
was he? The deckhand who had a drinking and gambling problem? The Lieutenant who
easily gave away the only sliver of honor he ever had for a life of piracy? The onehanded
pirate who stole wives and ruined families?
Gods, he had no idea what he was going to do. Emma Swan definitely deserved more
than even the slightest hint of any of the people he was and still could be.
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Show her the man of honor, Killian. You’re a man of honor, Liam’s voice told him in his
head. So he decided to try again.
“I’m not quite familiar with this world just yet, but I chose this restaurant because it’s by
the docks and we both like the sea,” he murmured, beginning to feel stupid. But it
worked! This particular statement was entirely truthful, considered both of their interests,
and let Emma know that he put some thought into planning this evening together.
He did know how to plan an evening, after all.
He imagined that in reply, Emma would smile and approve of the restaurant. Just the
mere mental reflection of her grin made a small smile fall onto his own lips.
Practicing for their date after that went so well, that at points, Killian had to remember
he wasn’t actually on it. He’d find himself reaching across the table to hold her hand,
only to find cool air instead of soft skin.
The one part of their date he didn’t practice - to protect his pride and dignity - was the
part where he’d walk her home after a nice evening, drop her off at her door, and say “I
had a wonderful time tonight.” What would come next...The gentle press of her lips that
he’d already felt more than once, her sweet hands pulling at the hair that rested on the
back of his neck...It would be confirmation that this quiet evening together would not be
the last.
All he had to do was leave the pirate at home and bring the man of honor.
*
“Emma, what’s the face for?” Mary Margaret asked, eyes peering up from her magic
spell. For hours they’d been researching about where the Snow Queen could’ve come
from and how they could get rid of some of the things she’d plagued the town with. The
predicament called for immediate solutions, which could only be brought about by
endless hours of research. It wasn’t Emma’s fault that her mind slipped a little.
“What face? This is my thinking face,” Emma replied. She must’ve gotten her lying
superpower from her mom, though, because Snow just rose an eyebrow that said Notbuying-it.
“Thinking about a certain sailor face, maybe?”
Emma still hadn’t told her mom about the date she had planned tonight, not because
she was embarrassed to be going out with Hook, but because she knew her mother.
Snow White could turn even the simplest affair in the world’s largest celebration.
There’d be pictures, planning outfits, maybe painting each other’s nails. Which was nice
and all, Emma actually secretly wanted all those things a little bit, but she wanted to end
81

this Snow Queen thing once and for all even more. Her night with Killian would distract
her, but she didn’t want to spend any more time than she needed to relaxing for the
sake of her own stress levels.
No one else cared about the Savior’s stress levels - except Killian maybe - so why
should she?
Emma was going to have to tell her mom about the date eventually, since Hook texted
that he’d be picking her up at seven sharp.
“What is it? Have you two not been getting along lately?” Snow pressed further.
“No, no, it’s not that. Kinda the opposite, actually.” Emma pushed a stray hair behind
her ears and wetted her lips. “I asked him out on a date.”
Snow blinked a few times, not looking nearly as surprised as Emma anticipated. Instead
she looked a bit confused, mixed with what Emma hoped was excitement.
“You asked him?” Mary Margaret asked, astonished.
“Why is that always the important detail?” Emma chuckled nervously, remembering the
way Killian’s walls had gone up as soon as the question left her lips. Of course, once he
realized that things with them had never been traditional, he accepted the offer and was
back to his usual flirting self.
“I guess I’m just surprised is all,” her mom continued. “He was the one who had interest
first.”
“So he’s letting me set the pace.” Emma shrugged. Killian was good like that. Never
crossing the line, only pushing the boundaries in a way that encouraged her to step out
of her comfort zone and get shit done. Always unconditionally supportive, which was so
unlike the rest of the men she’d seen.
Suddenly Emma really wished it was seven already so they could just get this show on
the road.
“You look happy, Emma.”
Emma’s lips lifted, eyes crinkling in the corners. When was the last time someone
outside of her immediate family made her smile so genuinely?
“I am happy. I think tonight is going to go well.”
Maybe she should’ve been worried that Killian was planning the evening when he barely
knew how to use a cellphone. The anxious feeling inside of her wasn’t laced with heavy
82

dread, like it usually was with first dates (or any date really). It felt more like dancing
butterflies that could flutter enough to lift her off the ground and into the clouds.
Good god, she was like a high school teenager with a crush again. She loved every
second of it.
*
Killian paced back and forth in his room, trying to stretch out his new pants. When he
first purchased them, the shop assistant insisted that the dark jeans were supposed to
be that tight. They were different than his usual leather trousers, which were taught to
his skin but still were able to bend and breathe. This was just uncomfortable.
He tried some kicks upwards, but soon decided that wasn’t the best idea. Ripping his
only pair of 21st century jeans just hours before his date with Emma would just about
ruin the night, his pride, and quite possibly the rest of his life.
He had to admit, putting the clothes on was a lot easier now that he had both hands to
dress with. The hook would’ve definitely inflicted some sort of damage to his new attire.
Again, no wardrobe malfunctions allowed before the big night.
Killian caught a glance at himself in the mirror and lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t see a
three-hundred-year old pirate who hadn’t properly courted a lady in three hundred
years. He looked like a modern man ready to take his girl out.
Except he was anything but ready.
Nearing the mirror, Killian honed in a few minute details and scowled. The first thing he
noticed was the smudged blackness around his eyes; kohl that he rubbed around in his
nervous anticipation. Then of course, pointing out all the other imperfections were so
much easier. His beard needed trimmed. His hair was an utter mess and needed a
comb at the earliest second he could find one. The skin beneath his fingernails was
filthy. So many things needed adjusted and groomed.
But he had time. A whole hour and a half, and then it would all begin.
*
Emma had time to pull herself together. A whole two minutes, and then it would all
begin.
Walking down the stairs, Emma realized that her date with Killian had already begun to
distract her from her “Savior Responsibilities” and it had hadn’t even started yet. She
wasn’t exactly sure if nervousness was a fantastic trade for the stress, but she was sure
83

that there was a good possibility that her heart would jump out of her chest in the next
thirty seconds.
Taking a deep breath, she approached her family.
“Okay, I want honest opinions. What do we think?” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
The room went silent as the Nolans and Elsa examined a very date-ready Emma. It
wasn’t exactly what she tended to wear on dates, a soft pink dress with rosy cheeks and
a high ponytail, but it matched the occasion.
Besides, she was not about to walk down those steps in a firetruck red bodycon dress
and have to face her father.
“Wow...” Snow sighed.
“What your mother said,” David chimed in, just as awed.
The amazement in the room didn’t stop Elsa from asking, “Is that just the corset?
Where’s the rest of it?” Emma frowned, looking down at her dress. Elsa’s bodice was
just as tight as hers was.
“This is the rest of it.”
Less than one-minute left now.
Through the flashes of her mom’s polaroid camera and the unhappy look on her father’s
face (that was no doubt because of who Emma’s company was going to be), she could
only think of one thing. In just seconds, there’d be a man on the other side of the door
who absolutely adored her and who she was beginning to absolutely adore in return.
Knock knock knock. Emma bit back a squeak, heart rate skyrocketing exponentially.
She could almost feel him standing in the hallway, just as nervous as she was. Maybe it
was her magic, or maybe it was just her intuition, but the connection was there. It made
her want to open the door even sooner.
*
Killian’s eyes were glued to the floor as the door swung open. He wanted to reveal this
beautiful treasure to himself all at once. When his eyes rose, his breath evaporated and
for a few moments, he wasn’t living off of oxygen. He was living off of the beauty of the
woman he loved.
He’d experienced this woman at her worst, but always thought that in each opportunity
to see her, she was always at her best. Tonight, though, she excelled all expectations,
entirely angelic in her own transcendence. She was like a goddess on earth, dressed in
84

a soft peachy pink dress that reminded him of home in the way it flowed. Each billow of
her skirts was a crashing of the oceans waves, each flit of her hair was a gentle, salty
sea breeze.
“You look stunning, Swan,” he managed to say. Emma took a half step back, mirroring
the astonishment on his face with her own parted lips and wide eyes.
“You look...” she trailed off, trying to find the right words.
“I know,” he supplied, knowing exactly what she was noticing first. It wasn’t everyday a
three-hundred-year old pirate sported clothing from the modern realm. “Now that I’m
settling into this world, I finally thought it was time to dress the part.”
He wasn’t nearly as concerned with his words as he was with the rose he was holding in
his left hand, the rose that would reveal the newest and biggest change.
“Yeah, you really went all out!” she replied with an almost embarrassed chuckle. Emma
reached forward to accept the rose as he offered it, not noticing his new appendage
(much to Killian’s amusement).
Snow was the first to see it. “Uh, Emma?”
Swan’s head snapped right down to his left hand, like her subconscious had noticed
before she herself did. With wide eyes she asked, “Is that...?”
“Mine? Yeah,” he answered, peering down at his palm. “The Dark One kindly has
restored what he once took from me. It seems he has indeed changed his ways.”
He tried to believe it as much as he could, even if just for a few seconds, to avoid
setting off Emma’s lying superpower. If she caught him, and what he’d really done, the
evening could easily be ruined. Not only would she be disappointed in him for visiting
his old blackmailing ways, but she’d also have to add Rumpelstiltskin to the list of
people she needed to save the town from.
Luckily, everyone in the room - including Emma - accepted this, and nodded
thoughtfully.
“So what do I call you now? Captain Hand?” Emma teased, a playful spark in her voice
and lift in her eyebrows.
“Killian will do.”
“Alright Killian,” gods be praised, his name sounded heavenly on her lips, “let’s get out
of here before David gives you his ‘overprotective dad speech.’”
85

It turns out David managed to tone back his speech enough so that Killian could get
Emma out the door and headed toward their destination on time.
*
As they trailed away from the loft, Killian’s left hand hovered over Emma’s waist just
enough to be able to feel the soft fabric of her dress, but not enough to give him the
satisfaction of holding her close to him. Feeling him linger so close to her, Emma
reached over with her right hand and pulled his fingers to hold her waist. She wrapped
the other arm around his own back. Killian’s heart stuttered.
“So, what do you have planned for us?” Emma asked, breaking into the comfortable
silence.
“I thought we’d keep it simple. Have dinner together and go for a walk afterwards. Does
that sound alright?” Emma could probably sense the nervousness in his voice. What if
she wanted more than just dinner and walk? What if she wanted to eat and go home?
“It sounds perfect,” she admitted. “Gotta admit, I’m a little surprised.”
Killian cocked a brow and turned his head to look over at her. “Aye? Why’s that?”
“I thought there’d be some big romantic gesture involving a thousand candles and
actual live swans.” Killian chuckled, a bit forcefully because deep in the crevices of his
idea crafting, something along those lines had actually crossed his mind.
“Can’t go wrong with dinner and a moonlit walk, Swan. I figured that if the town were to
suddenly need its Savior, I’d be able to follow you, instead of needing to stay behind to
put the swans back in their cages,” Killian explained, half joking, half truthful. He waited
a breath before asking, “You’re not disappointed are you?”
Emma stopped walking, taking both hands in hers. Their eyes met, and Killian swore he
felt each of the shimmering glistens in her eyes like sparks in his nerves. She saw right
through his sky-high walls of insecurity and climbed them like she were trailing across
flatlands.
“Hey, anything you would’ve planned would’ve been fine. Like I said, tonight is perfect. I
am the one who asked you out, don’t forget.”
Killian smiled, feeling affection swell his heart to its seams. They walked to the
restaurant hand in hand, small grins on each of their faces, and a warm feeling through
their chests.
*
86

Emma was equally unsurprised by how good dinner went as she was with the
interruption (because of course that thief would be in the same restaurant, at the same
time as her and her date were). She was proud of herself for putting her sheriff duties
on hold so she could have these few hours to herself.
The thing that did surprise her, however, was Killian’s outburst which left as soon as it
came. A flicker of a flame, snuffed out in seconds. He seemed a little shocked by
himself too, so instead of feeling uneasy - like she thought she ought to be - she felt
reassured. Having his hand again probably hashed up some old habits, and the fact that
he was strong enough to recognize them and seek control them was proof enough to
Emma that he had changed.
Anyone who thought differently could speak to her privately on the matter and get their
nose punched.
When the food came, they both unwrapped their silverware from the fancy cloth
napkins. Emma reached across the table and picked up his fork, holding it before him
so he could examine it closely.
“This is called a fork. You eat with it. Say it slow with me, foooor-” Killian snatched the
utensil from her grip and scowled.
“I know what a bloody fork is, Swan,” but his frown was erased from his face when he
heard her laughing.
“I know, I know, I’m just teasing you.”
“That’s a lesson probably better suited for Ariel, I’d say. What does she call these?
Thingamabobs?” Emma’s laughter poured out of her so loud that a few heads turned in
their direction. Neither of them cared.
“In her defense, she did live the majority of her life underwater.”
Emma was relieved when conversation came easy with the two of them. It always had,
but she’d been concerned that the romantic setting would make it...different somehow.
But he was the same old Killian, just as clever and flirtatious, just as kind and charming.
His appearance had changed drastically, but the man was still the same.
She suddenly was looking forward to that goodnight kiss she’d be receiving at the end
of the evening. Maybe she could sneak a few more in, since of course, he wouldn’t
argue even remotely.
A moan broke Emma out of her thoughts, and her eyes snapped straight to her date.
Killian had just taken his first bite of spaghetti, something he’d never tried and Emma
87

insisted he have. While his reaction made her laugh, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit
that his pleasured moan had stirred warmth in her abdomen.
“Like it?” she asked, digging into her own chicken alfredo.
“Bloody ‘ell,” he murmured though a full mouth. After swallowing, he stared up at her in
amazement. “It’s like ambrosia. What did you say this is called?”
“Spaghetti,” she repeated, a grin splitting her cheeks.
“Strange name. Heavenly taste.”
Watching him eat, taking bites between the casual conversation, made thoughts of the
future appear across her eyes. Suddenly they weren’t in a fancy Italian eatery, but in a
house they would call their own, sitting at their own dinner table. Killian would brag
about how he perfected his spaghetti recipe and slaved over the meal they were about
to share. They’d have a perfect view of the sea and of each other...
“Have I lost you, Swan?” Killian asked rousing her from her thoughts. Emma blinked a
few times and shook her head.
“No, I’m listening.”
He didn’t buy it, but didn’t look very worried. She did, after all, have a wide smile on her
lips.
“What is it?” he pressed, curious more than anything else.
“Nothing,” Emma said with a shake of her head. “I’m just really enjoying myself.”
Reaching across the table, Killian locked his free hand with hers. An emotion flooded
over every single inch of his eyes down to the miniscule corners and each glint of
reflected light. In that moment, Emma wasn’t afraid to admit that it might be love, and
she wasn’t scared that she’d been imagining a future with him. Sure, once life kicked in,
the fear would probably be back, but at least the date had given her a chance to sample
what could be if they did this right.
“Me too, Emma, me too.”
Emma tightened their fingers. Maybe she’d have to ask him out more often.
*
When the night was almost over, Emma savored the last few seconds of this quiet
moment. She engraved each miniscule detail into her memory, hoping that once this
ended, if she closed her eyes, she’d be able to remember again. The warmth of Killian’s
88

jacket around her, the softness in his eyes as he looked at her, how easily their hands fit
together. If she could, she’d spend all night just holding his hand, talking to him, being
with him.
The heavy desire in his voice when he was asked her for a “next time” almost made her
fall to pieces right there in front of him. With the way tonight had gone, there wouldn’t
just be a next time. There’d be a time after that, and time after that, until all that’d be left
would be an eternity full of forevers to fill with each other.
Emma made the first move, a gentle lean in. Then they were pulled together by an
equal force, slowly dragging them closer together until their lips touched. It was like all
of their kisses combined. A hint of passion. A dash of adoration. A magnitude of what
Emma thought could be love. Each press of their lips another declaration. I want this. I
want you. Each caress of a hand another answer. I want this too. I want you most of all.
When she had returned his jacket and gone to bed, Killian began his trek back. The
feeling of her still tingled against her lips as if it was still happening, mind foggy with
lovesickness. In the air Killian could feel each of their silent confessions with a certain
tangibility that he understood in his heart.
The sweet melody of their budding love on the wind lulled him to sleep so that he could
soon return home to her in his dreams.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2759399/
Archive of our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead
89

90

Always...
91

always…
missing scene from Emma and Killian’s date -4-04
She’s making him nervous. Something about that realization manages to calm the
butterflies in her own stomach, at least to a more balanced flutter instead of the swarm
she’s been dealing with since first opening the door and seeing him look like that. And
the hand, his hand, wrapped up in hers as they weave their way out of the restaurant,
it’s both somehow anchoring and setting her adrift at the same time. She doesn’t know if
she should talk to him about it, get the whole story of how he got it back and what it
means to him, too afraid of drudging up painful topics on this, their first real date.
Instead, she chooses to focus on the warmth of his fingers, the press of his ring against
her knuckle and the way his thumb moves in a circle against her skin every time he
catches her looking at him. And yeah, that’s happened more than a few times tonight
already.
The cool breeze coming in from the water rustles her skirt as they step outside,
prompting her to step a bit closer to his side as a shiver courses down her bare arms.
“Let’s get you to the car, love”
Her mind and body react simultaneously as her hand grips his just a bit firmer and she
looks from her bug over to him with a genuine smile. She’s not ready for the night to be
over, not quite yet.
“I’d rather walk, if that’s okay?”
His eyes go a bit wide at her suggestion, looking pointedly at her bare arms and down
to her heels, a look of incredulousness taking over his features as blue meets green
once again.
“In those shoes, Swan? It’s at least a mile back to the loft.”
92

“Oh these things, they’re nothing. The ones I wore to the other date you witnessed put
these to shame. I’ll be fine.”
He leans in slightly at that, voice low, his warm breath caressing her cheek resulting in a
shiver that has absolutely nothing to do with the cold.
“I never should have doubted your abilities, love…”
Drawing out the last word, his lips brush her temple in a feather light kiss, a barely
perceptible touch gone too soon as she finds her hand suddenly free from his grip.
Something in her gut stirs at the loss, a need she’s already feeling all too keenly, the
pull of him stronger now that she’s stopped pushing him away. Her arms move
instinctively to cross over her chest in defense against the cold and maybe other things
she’s really not ready to name. Looking over at him she realizes why he’s let go and
that stirring in her gut, well, it’s turning into a damn cyclone now and she mentally
prepares herself to be swept away.
His new jacket is now in his hands, both of them, as he holds it up towards her with a
devilish smile, not managing to completely mask the tinge of insecurity still lingering
behind his eyes.
“Milady…”
The act is so overtly romantic and his words so old fashioned and she…god, she loves
every second of it. She may be “The Savior”, fierce and strong, but that doesn’t mean
she can’t enjoy when a man who knows she is but still wants to treat her like she’s soft
and gentle, if only for a short time on a quiet night where no one else can see. Turning
slightly, she lets him help her work her arms into the jacket, immediately soaking up the
warmth of his body still clinging to the soft leather. His chest comes to rest lightly
against her back when he pulls the collar closed beneath her chin, the scruff on his
cheek brushing against her neck as he takes every opportunity to invade her space now
that he’s catching on that he’s welcome to do so.
“Such a gentleman…”
93

He releases a long breath on a quiet chuckle before stepping back a step, his arms
sliding down hers from behind before stepping back to her side and extending his hand
once again.
“Always.”
They share a smile full of memories as her fingers stretch past the too long jacket to
mingle with his, their now chilled skin warming as palm meets palm. He leads them off
the curb and they fall into a slow pace, perfectly in sync as always, neither in a hurry to
reach their destination.
“I like the new jacket.”
“Aye, but I must admit it looks far better on you, Swan.”
She can’t help the playful nudge to his ribs at his flirting, his tug to pull her closer a
welcome retaliation.
“How did you manage such a perfect fit with the short notice?”
His slight flinch is hard to miss with her pressed against his arm and she stops their
stroll to look over at him, curious as to his odd reaction to her rather innocent question.
The nervousness is back in his features, this time in full force as he refuses to meet her
gaze, instead focusing on the streetlight turning red in the distance.
“Killian?”
He doesn’t look at her when he responds; speaking with a careless nonchalance she’s
all too familiar with.
“You have quite the talented tailor here in Storybrooke.”
Lie.
Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she lowers her voice to a more soothing tone, hoping
to coax him out of whatever is causing him to hide the truth from her.
“Hey, look at me.”
94

It takes another brief moment, but he complies, the look in his eyes reminiscent of their
day in the woods looking for Zelena, raw and open, his heart fully on display.
If it can be broken, that means it still works.
She’s about to speak when he moves a step closer, his free hand lifting to hook lightly
under her chin as his eyes set firmly to hers.
“I’ve been procuring new garments for weeks, Swan. It didn’t feel right to wear them
until I was sure you wanted me to stay.”
So many things bubble up in her at once, regret, sadness, fear, hope, love…everything
all jumbled in a ball pressing against her breastbone trying to escape. She wants to say
something, needs him to know, but she can’t find the words, or her breath. Releasing
his hand, she closes the last bit of distance between them as she wraps herself around
him in a hug, the warmth of his throat against her cold nose sending tingles of
awareness all over her body. He wastes no time in pulling her closer, one hand tight
around her back as the other cups the back of her head, his fingers tangling gently in
her ponytail.
Taking a deep breath, her lips brush against his skin as she finally finds her voice,
realizing it’s really only two words he needs to hear.
“I do.”
“Good.”
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6425807/
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/works
The title art can be purchased - http://www.redbubble.com/shop/sarah+mac
95

96

I’m Gonna Love You
(Like I’m Gonna Lose You )
97

I’m gonna love you
(like I’m gonna lose you)
For such a thing so light, the newspaper grasped in his hand feels strangely heavy. But
then he thinks of a conversation in the woods – words of love and trust, a promise of a
future – and maybe it’s not so much that the newspaper itself is heavy, but rather
weighs hefty with significance.
He has lived for three centuries, faced countless foes, travelled across realms and time
itself, and nothing could have prepared him for this, nothing has ever been as daunting
as these grainy, black and white photos with their short-sentenced descriptions.
Victorian-style three-story…Wrap around porch…Ocean view.
“What’s that?”
The voice startles him, makes him jump in his seat in a booth at Granny’s. It’s rather
early yet, and he hadn’t been expecting any company for another hour or so, least of all
Henry’s. He feels his cheeks flush instantly, not so much from embarrassment as from
anxiety at having been caught browsing the newspaper for potential real estate.
There is a lump caught in his throat that grows twice in size as he scrambles to hide the
paper beneath his arms as best he can. His reaction is instinctive, and probably
completely suspicious to the lad’s perceptive gaze, but it’s too late to take back. He
turns his head just as Henry climbs into the booth behind him, peeking over his
shoulder.
“Nothing!” he says, a nervous chuckle rumbling from his chest. “It’s nothing, why would
you think it’s something?”
Henry gives him a bland look, brow arching up just enough for Killian to want to clamp a
hand over his mouth for his idiocy at allowing his anxiety to show or slap his hand to his
forehead for the obvious agitation in his voice.
The boy stares at him but a moment more, then he’s glancing forward, drawing Killian’s
attention to the space ahead of them. “Oh, hey Gramps!”
He cannot control the panic that swells abruptly in his chest, twisting back around to
meet the prince’s gaze with his own apprehensive look. Except the prince isn’t there,
and Henry moves with lightning quickness, nimble fingers latching onto a corner of the
newspaper Killian hadn’t been able to cover and snatching it away just before he
clambers out of the booth.
98

Killian is on his feet like a shot, stumbling after him with his eyes wide and hand
outstretched, palm out pleadingly. “Henry!”
“I’ll give it back,” he replies.
“You know it’s not wise to steal from a pirate-”
“Borrow,” Henry interrupts, ignoring him while he unfolds the newspaper and inches
backwards to keep some space between them. “Now…let’s see…”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mutters under his breath, resisting the urge to pinch at the
bridge of his nose.
He does not know how much time passes with Henry’s gaze flitting across the page, but
the air is heavy with the tension radiating from his body as he watches Emma’s boy look
over the section he himself had been staring at so intently only moments ago.
“These are…these are real estate ads,” Henry finally says, voice quiet.
Killian’s scoff is followed by a scowl. “No,” he insists.
But the boy shoots him a look, something fierce and full of seriousness in the
expression that makes Killian sigh, giving up the facade of denial with an exasperated
drop of his hand. He pushes his tongue into his cheek, gesturing at nothing with his
hook as he grips his belt buckle and rocks back onto the heels of his feet.
“Alright…perhaps.”
His heart is beating against his ribcage now, stomach twisting itself into knots as he
carefully watches Henry’s face. The lad is the most important person in Emma’s life. His
opinion on all matters of the future – their future – is hugely important to him.
“I’ve been looking for a place for forever!” Henry blurts out suddenly. “This is awesome!
I was thinking something by the water and-”
“Wait, what?” Whatever Killian had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been a response
full of so much enthusiasm.
“Huh?” Henry wonders, excitement cut short by Killian’s confusion.
He crosses the room and stops just in front of him. “I just want to be sure I’m
understanding clearly, lad. Do you mean to say you’re alright with…this?”
He sweeps his hand towards the newspaper still clutched in Henry’s hold, the home that
would be a symbol, a promise to Emma as well as to Henry. The corners of Henry’s
99

mouth tug up into a beaming smile that is so reminiscent of Emma, Killian’s heart aches,
and he is simultaneously filled with relief and a staggering amount of affection.
“Well.” Henry lifts his chin, hazel eyes steady on his. “You love her, don’t you? And she
loves you?”
The best Killian can manage is a nod.
Henry shrugs as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Then yeah. I just want her
to be happy. Besides, you’re alright, I suppose. For a pirate and all.”
The hoot of laughter slips past his lips and echoes in the empty diner, easing the
tightness in his chest considerably. He cannot control the urge to draw Henry in for a
hug, clapping him companionably on the back.
“You’re alright as well, I suppose. For an author and all.”
“Oh, also,” Henry chimes in. “I get the master bedroom.”
He doesn’t snort, but it’s a near thing.
“We’ll talk,” he replies, ruffling the lad’s hair as he pulls away. “So what do you think,
Henry? Will your mother say ‘yes?’”
He is treated with another raised eyebrow and he can’t help but think that perhaps that
particular trait is his influence.
“What do you think?” Henry retorts.
“I think you boys need to get the stoves on in the back if you’re planning on breakfast
this morning,” Granny interrupts, giving them both a stern look as she saunters into the
diner.
Henry glances over his shoulder, waiting until she is across the room before handing
Killian back the paper. He lowers his voice, but Killian imagines it’s futile against the
widow Lucas’ wolf-like hearing. At least she practices discretion, on occasion anyway.
“We should call it something,” Henry suggests.
“What do you mean?”
“When I brought my mom to Storybrooke and we were trying to bring back the Happy
Endings, we called it, ‘Operation Cobra.’ It was like a codename for a secret mission,
you know?” He purses his lips, eyes narrowing in thought. “We should call this one,
‘Operation…’”
100

“‘Light Swan,’” Killian finishes, without the slightest bit of hesitation.
At the end of this – the gods willing – Dark Swan will be naught but a distant memory,
another tale for Henry’s book, and all that will remain will be them and their future, white
picket fence and all.
“‘Operation Light Swan,’” Henry muses, testing the words on his tongue. He pauses
then abruptly grins again, looking rather pleased. “Perfect.”
“Henry!” Granny calls. “You know how your mother gets when there’s no coffee on the
pot, don’t make me say it again!”
“Coming, Granny!” He rolls his eyes and pulls another chuckle from Killian. “Pick a few
places, we’ll discuss later.”
Killian smiles in turn, heart so full of everything – hope and light and love – as tucks the
folded newspaper safely beneath his vest and coat at the top of his breeches, and
watches Henry cross the room to start brewing coffee.
(Later, he swoops Emma into his arms when she trudges into the diner and lingers
delightedly over their morning kiss. Her smile is soft against his mouth, her quiet giggles
reserved for his ears only.
“What was that for?” she wonders.
“What? I can’t kiss you good morning?”
She gives him a narrow-eyed look – there’s no heat behind it though, just amusement –
that suggests she’s not entirely convinced that’s all he’s about. But she presses no
further, curling her fingers around the lapels of his coat and tugging him towards the
coffee pot.
“Coffee first, then you can kiss me all you want.”
His brow arches up in that way that always makes her laugh, makes pink rise high on
her cheeks and her eyes crinkle adorably around the edges. He has to say, never has a
morning looked so bright.)
—–
It turns out picking ‘a few’ potential homes is the easy part, it’s deciding on the one
that’s tough.
The paper passes between his and Henry’s hands several times in a day and they only
have a few minutes between to safely chat before arising suspicion. They weigh the
101

pros and cons of each property, agreeing on some things, but mostly disagreeing on the
rest.
Too close to school.
Too big.
Too far from the docks.
Too small.
Too near her parents’.
Too…yellow.
Too many blocks from Granny’s.
It’s a frustrating process to say the least, made even more frustrating by the fact that the
rest of the lot – save Emma, thank god – have begun to notice their odd, secretive
behavior. They endeavor to take more care, but there is still one time that Dave catches
them outside of Granny’s, tucked away into a small alcove.
He sneaks up behind them without so much as a rustle of leaves, peering over their
heads to give his input while they argue about a quaint little two-story abode.
“Doesn’t Leroy live on that block?” Dave asks.
Both he and Henry start, heads snapping around to look at him. The prince sips idly at
his mug of coffee, eyes dancing with amusement.
“You’re right, better not risk it,” Henry nods, turning back around to peruse the
properties once more as Dave gives his shoulder a squeeze and chuckles at him.
The only response he has to Killian’s arched brow – questioning, challenging – is a wink
and clap to the back. Words of understanding pass silently between them and while
Dave retreats to the diner, Killian blames the ball lodged just beneath his breastbone to
Granny’s lasagna special.
—–
Granny happens upon them on her way to the well just before sunset the following day,
scrunching her nose at the house he and Henry have been discussing for the better part
of fifteen minutes.
“Too small!” she says, shaking her head. “You’ll need some space for babies!”
102

Killian turns as red as a tomato, scratching behind his ear with his hook while Henry
snickers beside him. He turns the page of the paper, his expression smug. “Told you.
We need something with a yard.”
—–
In the end, it’s the first one he had seen, the very last one on the second page of the
newspaper, that he spends more time contemplating over than any of the others. Emma
sits outside, stitching her dreamcatchers under the light of the moon, and his gaze
keeps flickering through the open blinds of the windows, looking between her and the
newspaper in his hand.
Victorian-style three-story…Wrap around porch…Ocean view.
He takes the pen beside his coffee and writes a quick note across the top for Henry –
This one? – and vacates the booth to head towards the rooms in the back. He slides it
beneath the door of Henry’s quarters with a deep breath, then makes his way outside to
keep Emma company for the rest of the evening.
He makes her laugh while he hands her beads and feathers and seashells, tells her an
exaggerated albeit charming tale about a lost princess and a scoundrel pirate that fall in
love against all odds, and then steals kisses when she leasts expects it. All through the
night, with Emma close beside him on the log, her cheek on his shoulder while she
weaves and crafts, the words linger with him.
Victorian-style three-story…Wrap around porch…Ocean view.
(Henry personally delivers the paper back to him that morning. Killian’s choice circled
and his question answered when Henry confirms, “This one.”)
——
She comes up behind him while he peers through the spyglass in the sitting room,
watching the sun dip below the horizon on the water, arms snaking around his middle,
chin resting atop his shoulder.
“Can we just unpack tomorrow?” she wonders.
“If you wish, Swan,” he replies.
Her sigh is tired, but happy, and it makes him smile.
“Nice view,” she comments, squeezing him just a bit tighter.
“What can I say? I do have rather good taste.” He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss
to her temple.
103

“Indeed you do.” Her hum of agreement reverberates through his back and he stays
close, brushing his lips across her cheek.
The silence that passes between them is full of contentment and he cannot resist
covering her hands where they are twined over his stomach.
“Still scared?” he wonders.
He senses her smile rather than sees it.
“What do you think?” she replies, voice soft in his ear, and he feels his heart squeeze
sweetly in his chest, remembering a similar question posed by her lad not too long ago.
“Still mad?” she asks when he doesn’t answer, filling up the quiet with a question of her
own.
Killian turns to face her, hand and hook anchoring on her hips and easing her closer
until the tips of her shoes bump against the tips of his, and their bodies perfectly align
as they press together. He grins at her, reaching between them to drag his knuckles
along her jaw before leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.
He thinks of all the things that had led them here – the sacrifices, the fear, the hurt, the
battles, the hope, the love.
“What do you think?” He gives her the words back, nudging her nose with his until her
chin tips up and he can kiss gently at her mouth.
The smile she gives him in return is overwhelming, as is the way she closes the space
between them and kisses him more firmly on the mouth, her I love you murmured
fiercely in the breath she takes just before she kisses him again and again and again.
He cannot get a word in, she won’t allow him to, so he simply angles his head to
deepen the kiss, I love you, too lost in the groan that tears itself from his mouth at the
way she softens beneath him and slides her hands up to tangle in his hair.
He has spent years loving her already, but never has he loved her more than in this
moment, in their house – their home – with the rest of their lives ahead of them.
You still think we can get back there? To Storybrooke and some white-picket-fence life?
Yes. I’ll never stop fighting for us.
It’s staggering to know that neither will she.
Fin
104

If you enjoyed this story, check out more of my fanfics;
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105

106

Story by @flslp87
Artwork by @duathadun
107

The Flickering Lights-Captain Swan Style
Set sometime after season 5, but was written prior to 5b.
Granny's was packed - an impromptu post-underworld celebration – and all Emma
could think about was the fact that they'd achieved the impossible. They had actually
gone into the Underworld and brought Killian home. Since finding him, she had rarely
let him out of her sight and even now she was as close to him as she could get, his left
arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Leaning closer and putting her head on his
shoulder, she looked up at him with a tender smile that he answered with one of his own
that was reserved for her, the one that made her feel like she was the most precious
thing in the world.
“Ready to go, love?”
She tilted her head and grinned up at him. “In a hurry for some reason?”
His smile changed into a lopsided smirk as he leaned down and whispered in her ear,
“Aye, I believe some time alone is in order.” The words were immediately followed by a
kiss on her cheek, and without waiting for an answer he directed her toward her parents
to say goodbye.
Her parents were speaking softly to Blue, apparently getting up to speed about her little
brother Neal and all the things they'd missed while they were gone. They both gave her
a brief hug as she said good night, and her mother made her promise that they'd all get
together the next day for a family brunch.
In the middle of the goodbye hugs Henry appeared by her side. He pulled her into a
hug, and was gone with a 'love you, see you tomorrow' before she could properly
reciprocate, then was back to chasing Roland through the diner without giving them
another glance.
“Henry’s staying with Regina and Robin tonight?” Mary Margaret asked Emma.
Killian's arm tightened around her as she glanced up at him, his smile sending a shiver
down her spine, and she had to force herself to turn back to her mother to answer her
question.
“Yea, he said he missed Roland, but I think he wanted to give us...” Her smile widened
as she looked at Killian again. “... a chance to spend some time alone.”
“And we appreciate it,” Killian added, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Her father threw them a stern look while her mother just smiled, and Emma turned
toward the exit before her parents could give her a lecture. They walked to the door,
saying goodbye to everyone on their way out but were already so immersed in each
other that they didn't notice the lights flickering the moment they cleared the door frame.
108

Mary Margaret exchanged a look with her husband, raising her eyebrows in question.
David only shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the flickering of the lights without much
thought and they turned back to their conversation with Blue.
K&E
Regina and Robin were sitting side by side in a booth watching Roland run circles
around Henry when the lights flashed. Regina looked toward the door to see that
Emma and Killian had just walked out and with a contemplative look on her face she
turned toward Robin, “Surely, not.”
Turning to her, Robin asked, “Pardon me?”
“Did you see the lights flash just as Emma and Killian walked out?”
“Yes, so?”
“Well, what if they caused that?”
“What do you mean?”
Regina turned toward the door and shook her head to indicate never mind, but Robin
grabbed her hand and kissed her finger tips. “What is it?”
Leaning toward him Regina said, “Emma’s magic is tied to her emotions and well,
there’s no more powerful emotion than love so…”
“So,” responded Robin, “And?”
“Well, what if that flash of lights was caused by Emma and her pirate being together?”
“Why would this time be any different than any other time?”
“But Robin, that’s just it. There hasn’t been any other time.”
She looked over at him as his mouth dropped open, “Really?” And then the lights
flashed again.
“Really.” Regina answered. “Ms. Swan has kept her pirate waiting.”
“Well, my darling, why don’t we go home and make some magic of our own.”
Robin leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and her breath caught in her throat as his
mouth curled up into a smirk.
“Lovely idea.” She murmured, “Let’s get the boys and go home.”
As they were gathering the boys and saying good bye, the lights flashed again.
109

“Regina, any idea what’s going on?” asked Mary Margaret as they walked up to her and
David.
Looking at Robin out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that his dimples had
deepened even more and whispered close to Mary Margaret’s ear, “I think it might be
Emma and Killian.”
“What?” Mary Margaret said.
“Well, they’re …..” Regina trailed off, waving her hand in the air as if she was searching
for the right word.
“Oh! Oh!” Mary Margaret said quietly as she put her hand on David’s arm. “David, let’s
go home.”
David glanced at his wife, then turned back toward Regina and Robin. “What did you
say?”
Regina, feeling strangely uncomfortable, looked over at Robin who took her hand in a
show of support, “Well, Emma’s magic is controlled by her emotions and the flickering
lights could be caused when Emma and Killian are…”
“Whoa,” holding his hand up in front of them, “stop right there.” David moaned, “There
are some things a dad doesn’t need to know,”
He quickly put his hand on Mary Margaret’s elbow and as they were walking out the
door, the lights went off completely.
Everyone started talking at once until Granny shouted, “Calm down a minute and the
generator will kick in.”
Thankfully it did and David, Mary Margaret, Regina, Robin and the boys were able to
slip out before anyone started asking questions that they really didn’t want to have to
answer.
K&E
Killian wrapped his arm around Emma and pulled her close as soon as they walked out
of Granny’s. She in turn put her arm around him and her hand in the back pocket of his
jeans. He looked down at her and raised that eyebrow that seemed to have a mind of its
own. “Something you need, Swan?”
Emma tightened her hold and just smiled up at him. As they walked through the streets
of Storybrooke toward their home, their footsteps fell into sync and the air around them
seemed to sizzle with electricity. Killian couldn’t believe he had been given another
chance at life. Another chance to have his happy ending with the woman he loved.
Unconsciously he tightened his hold on her even more.
110

“A penny for your thoughts,” said Emma.
“Another one of those sayings, I gather,” stated Killian.
“It is.” Emma smiled.
“Well, Swan, I think my thoughts are worth more than a penny.” He tapped his bottom
lip with his finger and smiled down at her.
Reaching up, she pulled his head down and kissed his lips softly. “Okay, I paid up, now
it’s your turn.”
He stopped walking and turned to her, putting his hand and hook on her hips to pull her
closer.
“Emma, I love you,” he said, his eyes finding hers for a moment before he averted his
gaze over her shoulder.
“You are my happy ending, but if you are not ready to take this next step with me, then I
am willing to wait.”
Her hand cupped his cheek forcing him to gently meet her eyes again.
“Killian,” she said in a quiet voice. “I love you, too. Now take me home pirate.”
It took him but a minute to process what she had just said and once he did, he bent
down and gave her a hard, but passionate kiss, then promptly turned them back toward
their home and quickly began leading her down the street to their future.
As they came to the gate that would lead to their front door, Killian pushed up the latch
with his hook and together they walked through. Both of them gazed up at the house
looming tall and majestic in front of them, then at each other and smiled. Turning slightly
toward Emma, he bowed, and with an outstretched arm indicated she precede him up
the stairs.
She smiled and as she walked up the steps and swept her hand in front of her to
magically open the door. Before stepping over the threshold, she turned and held her
hand out to Killian. “Ready?”
His answer was to swing her into his arms and quickly march through the door without
looking to see where he was going.
“Swan, get the door, will you?”
With a toss of her hand, Emma closed them into their house, finally alone. She felt safe
and secure in Killian’s arms. Home. Leaning in she kissed his neck, right next to those
freckles that she’s always thought were so sexy, all the while running her fingers
through the chest hair that was visible where he had left a few buttons undone.
111

She was thankful that someone had come in and turned some lights on low so they
weren’t walking into a dark house. They had also made sure there was heat. She
leaned her head on his shoulder as he walked up the stairs, not minding when he
reached for her lips and kissed her with one of those all-encompassing kisses, to which
she responded immediately. As they were making their way up the stairs the lights
flickered on and off, but they were so wrapped up in each other that they barely
noticed.
“Which way?” He murmured against her neck.
She pointed toward an open door and as he carried her through the doorway she slid
slowly down his body, never once letting go of his mouth. Wrapping her arms around
him, he brought her closer where she could not help but feel how much he wanted
her. She felt cherished and loved and couldn’t believe that finally, finally, she was going
to be making love with Killian, her pirate. She felt such a strong burst of love right at
that moment that it seemed as if the very air surrounding them was glowing and all of a
sudden all of the candles in the room sparked to life causing Killian to lift his head and
look around slowly.
“Liked that did you? Then you’re really going to like this.” He smirked.
Emma wondered what Killian thought of the room that she had decorated with him in
mind, but from the way he was kissing along her neck, how the room looked appeared
to be the last thing on his mind. Wrapped in his arms, she felt them slowly moving
backward, toward the bed. With deft movements he slid her leather jacket off one
shoulder, all the while kissing her neck, and then off of the other, letting it drop to the
floor. Once the jacket was gone, he moved to the other side of her neck, worshipping it
just as thoroughly,
Emma, slid her hands up Killian’s chest and pushed his leather jacket off of his
shoulders, too. She then proceeded to kiss every inch of his chest that was visible as
well as slowly unbutton the remaining buttons of his shirt. Just as she finished undoing
the buttons of his shirt the back of her legs came in contact with the bed and she found
herself falling backward. Not realizing how close they were to the side of the bed and
because he was so involved in kissing every part of her that he uncovered, as soon as
Emma fell, he did, too, landing right on top of her.
“Well, my darling, in a hurry I see.”
Emma smiled up at him. “I’m just trying to see if you can live up to your promise.”
He looked confused, and asked, “My promise?”
As she was slowly pushing his shirt off of his shoulders, she smirked, “Yes, the one
where you said that when you jab me with your sword, I will feel it. I’m waiting to see if
that is true.”
112

~~~~
He couldn’t believe that after all this time she remembered something he had said in
what seemed a lifetime ago, but oh, did he plan on making sure that she felt it, every
single inch.
“Well, I don’t make promises that I can’t keep.”
Standing up, he quickly divested himself of his shirt, pulling the sleeves over his brace
and hook.
Killian wanted his first time with her to be real, without anything artificial between them,
and while he loved that she treated his hook just as any part of him, he wanted to love
her, as he had not loved many. He had no illusions about his many conquests
throughout his long life as most women threw themselves at his pirate persona and not
because of the man he truly was. Emma loved the man and tonight he was only going
to give her the man.
Unscrewing the hook and laying it on the dressing table, he then pulled the leather
sheath off and sat it down. His boots were pulled off and tossed in the corner and then
his leather trousers.
~~~~~~~
Emma watched Killian in awe as every beautiful part of his body was exposed to her.
When he pulled off his hook and leather sheath and looked at her with what she felt was
vulnerability she wanted him to not only feel but know how much she loved
him. Reaching her hand out she ran her fingers along the side of his leg, and there
were sparks.
“Well love, now isn’t that interesting,” he smirked.
“Only with you, Killian, only with you.”
The candle flames burned brighter, growing larger and larger, until the entire room was
lit, almost like day. With a flick of her wrist, Emma plunged them into darkness.
“Come here pirate. I need you now.”
~~~~~~
Quickly divesting themselves of the rest of their clothing, they fell together on to the
bed. Killian ran his hand from her hip, along the indention of her waist and then up to
her shoulder. He gently cupped her chin and put his lips against hers in a kiss that
Emma felt all the way to her toes. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, silently
asking her to open up for him, and when she did, he swept in as if he had been kissing
her like this her entire life. His hands were not exactly steady as he moved them all
113

along her body, all the while continuing to punctuate each new area he touched by
moving his lips all over. He worshipped her body, learning exactly where she liked to be
touched and kissed, thinking that he had been waiting for this moment for many a day
and while he wanted to take his time, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait to
claim her as his own.
~~~
Emma felt like she was burning up and even with her eyes tightly shut she could see
light. Opening her eyes, she noticed again that the lamps around the room were
lit. When did that happen, she thought. And with another wave of her hand she plunged
the room back into darkness.
Touching her pirate, wasn’t something that Emma was shy about. She nipped at any
place she could reach with her teeth, and then soothed it with her tongue. Her hands
were busy running up and down his back until she could grab hold of his firm behind.
Kneading the muscles, almost like a kitten would, up and down from his shoulders to his
behind, she heard him growl as he lifted up his head to look at her.
“You keep that up and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Who says I want you to be responsible?” she whispered. “I’m sorry Killian. I’m sorry
that I made us wait. I love you.”
“Shh, love. We’re here now, that’s what matters.”
He took her mouth in another kiss that was meant to take all thoughts from her head.
She let herself go and showed him how much she loved him and how much she was
ready for that future with him. At the peak of their joining, she completely lost control of
her magic. Lightbulbs burst with a pop and candles flamed brighter. She was so happy
she felt like they were floating on the air.
~~~~~
Killian kissed her one last time and opened his eyes. He took in the lit candles that
were blazing everywhere and let out a surprised gasp, then tilted his head to look back
down at her.
“Bloody hell!”
She met his eyes and raised her eyebrows in question.
“Look down.” he indicated with his chin over her shoulder. “We are bloody floating in the
air.”
“No, we can’t be.” She started to say, but as soon as those words left her mouth they
fell back onto the bed with a little bounce.
114

“My magic?” she asked.
“Aye, love, it must be. Now, do you think we can do it again?”
And do it again, they did.
K&E
All across town the lights had been flickering on and off for a while until there was the
brightest surge of all. Robin was lying in bed with Regina curled around him when it
occurred.
“Well done mate,” he said as he heard Regina snicker before they both drifted off to
sleep.
K&E
Mary Margaret and David had also settled down for the night. The lights had
consistently been flickering off and on since they had gotten home. Because they really
didn’t want to think about what was going on with their daughter, they were laying in
complete darkness when all of a sudden the lights powered back on and then shut back
off. David groaned and put his pillow over his head.
“There are some things that I really don’t need to know.”
Mary Margaret sighed, “I agree. Maybe I’ll ask Regina to talk to Emma about how to
control her magic a bit more.”
She too pulled the covers up over her head to shut out the lights that had resumed
flickering while they were talking.
K&E
After his many years at sea, Killian tended to wake with the first light and even though
he had not had much sleep the night before, this morning was no different. The big
difference this morning was that Emma was finally next to him where she belonged.
Killian slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked so peaceful laying there in
repose. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as he remembered how
they had spent the better part of the night. He knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help
himself, as he turned on his side and pulled her tighter against his front. Curling around
her, he moved her hair aside and pressed soft kisses to her neck and shoulders all the
while running his hand up and down her body.
He could feel as Emma slowly regained consciousness, her body becoming more pliant
to his ministrations.
115

“Good morning,” she purred as she moved closer to his front and tilted her neck so he
could continue to kiss and caress her. “I could get used to waking up this way every
morning.”
“Then you shall,” he whispered against her skin. “I never want you to feel alone again.”
He proceeded to show her just what other ways he was going to use on a daily basis to
show her how much he loved her. The candles flickered back to life but wrapped in their
own cocoon Emma and Killian didn’t notice.
Many minutes later, Emma glanced at the clock. “Killian, we’re supposed to meet the
family for brunch shortly. I’m going to jump in the shower.”
He looked at her and winked. “Shall I wash your back?”
“Now, wouldn’t that be nice?” she said softly. “But, we’d never make it on time.
Raincheck?”
Giving him a quick kiss, she climbed out of bed and grabbed his shirt from the night
before, and slipped it on. When she picked it up, she noticed that there were shards of
glass on the floor. Careful to avoid the sharp edges, she picked up a pair of slippers and
put them on her feet before walking across the room.
“Stay right there,” she threw over her shoulder. “Let me get something to clean this up.”
Killian was busy looking at her legs from his prone position on the bed, but in response
to her comment, looked up and said, “Let me. You take your shower.”
When he stood up, he noticed Emma was staring at him, her cheeks tinted pink, but a
small smile and an awestruck look graced her beautiful face.
“See something you like, love?” he responded stalking toward her.
Giving a little shriek, she quickly grabbed her clothes and ran into the bathroom, but not
before he noticed a very satisfied smile on her face.
Once they were both ready they headed toward Granny’s to meet their family. She
looped her arm through his as they walked, just enjoying being together and being able
to touch each other freely. Periodically she would smile up at him and he, in turn would
lean over and give her a small kiss. Every time he did, she felt magic buzz through her
body and wrap around them. She couldn’t believe she was so happy.
Together they walked into the courtyard of the diner not noticing that the sign was no
longer lit, nor were the lights around the patio. Killian pulled open the door.
“After you, Swan.”
She walked through the door past him and ran her fingers along his scruff.
116

“Thank you.”
Feeling the electric current between them spring to life she quickly moved her hand and
looked up to see her family staring at them. Her parents were smiling in an
embarrassed way but trying to act like it was nothing out of the ordinary for her to arrive
after spending the night in Killian’s arms.
She felt a bit like a teenager who got caught necking with her boyfriend but tried to act
like it was nothing out of the norm. Looking around though she noticed that the entire
room was quiet and that Leroy was sitting at the bar with a plate of fruit in front of him
and a grumpy look on his face.
“It’s your fault sister,” he bellowed while pointing his finger. “You and that pirate are the
reason I didn’t get my bacon!”
Emma glanced up at Killian with a look that said 'do you have any idea what he’s
talking about?', and Killian just shrugged his shoulders, placing his hand behind her
back to guide her toward her parents’ table. About that time, Emma noticed that Robin
and Regina were sitting with her parents, and that Regina had the strangest smirk on
her face. She got up from the table and sauntered over.
“Emma, a word, please.”
Emma assumed it had something to do with Henry so she told Killian to go ahead and
sit down and turned to Regina. “What is it?”
“Did you happen to notice that the power is out?” asked Regina.
“Now that you mention it, I see that. Please don’t tell me there’s another villain in town.”
“No, it’s you and your pirate. It seems that you’re explosive together.” She snickered.
Emma’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t mean that the power outage was because
Killian and I…” she trailed off and looked around her. Every eye in the place was on
her.
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “Is there a way to fix this? I don’t plan on
giving him up, now that I’ve had a taste,” she said quietly.
“Oh drop the moon eyes, we can fix it.” Regina snapped her fingers and the power
came back on. “I came up with a spell for you to say when you get home. It should
keep the power of your magic contained within your house, but you might want to work
on ways to get a handle on your emotions when you and Killian are….” Regina made a
small motion with her hand before adding, “After all, you don’t want to scare Henry on
the nights he’s staying with you two.” Regina passed her a piece of paper that had a few
words written on it.
117

“Thanks, Regina. I owe you one.”
They walked over to the table where their family sat and she laid her hand on Killian’s
shoulder. The lights flickered again and she quickly removed her hand and thought, oh
man this is going to be tough. He grabbed and kissed her hand, pulling her down
beside him. This time she was ready for it and while the lights in Granny’s didn’t flicker,
she could still feel the charged air around them, and she looked at Killian and smiled.
David and Mary Margaret looked at each other and, while the pirate might not have
been their first choice for their daughter, it was obvious he was the best and last choice.
He made her happy. What more could a parent desire?
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/~flslp87
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/flslp87
118

Story by @thegladelf
Artwork by @duathadun
119

Rum and Cocoa
Emma can't see the time when she wakes up, but she knows it is too early. Way too
early to be up, even if you’re an old-fashioned pirate still thoroughly entrenched in the
notion that the day starts with the rising sun.
Only, when she rolls over, bent on curling up against said old-fashioned pirate, he isn't
there.
Ignoring the slight speeding up of her heart, she pushes up onto her elbows, shoving
her hair out of her face. Cool, blue numbers glare the time at her. 2:34. Not even close
to the hour Killian usually rolls out of bed to...do whatever he does before she gets up
and they start puttering around the kitchen together, fixing breakfast and coffee.
Her pulse kicks up another notch, but she clamps down on the feeling with sheer logic.
There are a number of reasons Killian might be up. She lists those reasons one after
another as she slides out of bed, grabbing a pair of pajama pants from the back of a
chair and slipping them on underneath her oversized t-shirt. It wouldn’t be the first time
she found both her boys chatting downstairs over hot cocoa and Totinos.
She only finds Killian, an elbow propped on each knee and a mug of something in his
hand. He stares at the TV, though the screen is dark.
"Hey," she says, leaning against the railing. "That thing's a lot more interesting when it's
on."
Killian starts, which is her first—well, second—clue that something is up. He always
knows when she's there. He sets the mug down on the coffee table, rubbing his hands
across his eyes as he turns to her.
"Everything alright, love?" he asks.
"Yeah," Emma says, padding across the floor. "I just woke up and you weren't there."
He lifts his arm, curling it around her waist, apology written on his upturned face. "I'm
sorry."
"It's alright." She leans down, kissing his forehead so he knows all is forgiven. Sitting
next to him, she leans her head against his shoulder, her hand going to his heart
despite the fact that she wasn’t going to act all clingy. She clears her throat. This isn't
about her lingering issues. "What's up?"
120

"Nothing."
"Ah. So you’re just sitting in the dark, staring at the blank TV, sipping cocoa for
funsies?" A thought striking her, she reaches for the mug. "Is there rum in that?"
"Who do you think you're talking to?"
"Is that the answer for both questions?"
Killian chuckles, the strain in his shoulders loosening. "Yes, love, there's rum in that."
Emma takes a healthy sip, ducking out from under his arm and offering the drink back to
him. She leans against his back, chin on his shoulder, running her fingers through his
hair as he takes another drink. She feels the remaining tension from the tilt of his head
all the way to the set of his shoulders.
Pressing a kiss to one of the long scars running down his back she asks, "Do you want
to talk about it?"
"Not particularly." He stares at his mug.
"Okay," Emma says, rising and heading into the kitchen.
She finds enough hot water left in the electric kettle that she doesn’t have to wait for
more to heat up. The less time between her and her hot cocoa the better. She's
sprinkling cinnamon on her whipped cream when she hears the soft footsteps coming
up behind her. Setting the cinnamon down, she turns just in time to catch the look on his
face before his hand is in her hair and he's kissing her like his life depends on it. For a
long moment, she kisses him back, hands roaming, pulling him closer and offering the
comfort he wants.
"Not that I'm complaining," she says when she finally pushes him away to breathe, "but
are you sure you're okay?"
Heat falling from his gaze, Killian looks away. "I was just reminded of unpleasant things
today. That’s all."
"Hey," she says, running her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. She leans
back, the counter a hard line at her back. "You know we don't have to talk about it, but
you can tell me anything."
The corner of Killian's mouth twitches up. Not into his usual smirk, but into something
sadder. Darker. Emma swallows. Something tells her this isn’t the usual guilty
conscience talking. This is something deeper, something connected to the shadows that
tend to linger in his eyes.
121

Emma can't read people like he does. She’s better with the here and now, reading what
someone will do. She can't take one look at a person and see their past written in their
eyes like he did with her, but now that she knows him—now that he is hers—she sees it
all the time. Even when he's happy. Even when he forgets, she still sees the pain of his
past reflected back at her. Right now, it's so strong her chest physically aches.
"It's a rather long story, Emma." His sounds so tired. "And it's late."
"Okay," she says, even though tomorrow is her day off and late is a relative term. "Let's
just finish our drinks then." She picks up her mug, pushing past him, holding out her
hand when he doesn't immediately follow.
This couch is a definite improvement over the one she picked out as a dark one. More
suited to family movie nights and rainy afternoons curled up under the blanket with her
pirate. She sits next to him, tucking her feet up onto the plush cushions, holding out her
mug for a little of the rum in his flask. He chuckles and obliges, captivating her with the
way he unscrews the cap with only his thumb.
He sighs, his breath warm on her scalp, resting his cheek against the top of her head.
"I talked with Regina about this weekend," Emma says. "She's said she's fine with
switching."
Killian hums, taking a sip of his cocoa. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"
"No," she says, "but we probably shouldn't leave Storybrooke without both sheriffs right
now. And my dad has been bugging you for, what, the last month?" She laughs shaking
her head. "You two have certainly come a long way."
He nods. "Aye." He sets his cocoa down, leaning forward the way he was when she first
came down, fingers tracing the scarred flesh where his hand should be. "This afternoon,
when I picked Henry up from school… There was a boy... Dark hair, blue eyes, about
the right age to be..."
Emma's stomach clenches as he trails off, not quite sure what he's saying, but already
bracing for the new loss. How much was taken from him before the universe finally said
enough?
Swallowing, he continues, "I have...or I had a younger brother, I think he'd be near
Henry's age by now."
"What happened to him?" she asks, running her fingers through his hair, not even trying
to figure out how that fits with his timeline.
"I happened," he says softly.
122

She doesn't believe it. Despite everything he has told her about his past, there isn't one
second that she thinks he is saying that he really harmed this boy. She knows him, she
knows he wouldn't have gone that far. He would, however, blame himself if something
happened because of him.
"Hey, what really happened?"
Killian shakes his head. "It's too much to tell right now, Emma."
"Nope, not doing that tonight. We both know you won't get a wink of sleep if you without
getting this off your chest." She settles back onto the couch, cradling the mug in both
hands and waits. "Killian, there is nothing you can say that's going to make me love you
less."
He shakes his head. "I'm not so sure about that."
"Yeah, well, don’t I deserve the chance to decide for myself?"
Somewhere deep inside he has to know she's not going to run screaming. Not anymore,
but she also knows what it's like to be so wrapped up in your past that you can't think
rationally.
Killian sighs. "Aye, love, I suppose you're right." He stands, motioning for her to stay as
he crosses into the kitchen to retrieve the mostly full bottle of rum from the liquor
cabinet. They discussed locking it up, what with a teenager in the house, but Killian's
threats of keelhauling if he ever caught Henry drinking before he was "of age" seemed
effective enough that Emma's not worried about it. Not yet at least. He slumps back
onto the couch, holding the bottle out to her. "We'll both want more of this before the
tale is done."
Emma rolls her eyes, but now is not the time to tell him that he's being dramatic—
honestly, when isn't he—so she just takes the bottle from him and tops off her cocoa.
She goes to pour a little more in his mug as well, but Killian takes the bottle from her,
adding a hefty helping before setting it on the coffee table.
"Hey," Emma says, stopping his mug halfway to his mouth. "I've seen the worst versions
of you and I'm still here. I love you, no matter what you've done."
The hand under hers shakes and he blinks rapidly, setting the mug back on the table
without drinking.
He looks at the ground, speaking softly. It's the first she hears of his childhood in detail.
She knows how he got the scars on his back—it wasn't hard to put those pieces
together—and she knows he grew up with only Liam watching out for him, but this is her
first time hearing his father's name and just how deep betrayal his betrayal cut. He
123

skims over the worst of his growing up; grimacing in apology at even the few gory
details he gives. There are tears in her eyes by the time he tells her about meeting his
father again. He recites their conversation in the tavern with such precision she knows
he has turned those words over in his head many times.
And then, well, she's glad that he won't look at her when he finally confesses to
murdering his father and leaving his brother an orphan. She hadn’t expected that. She
knows. She has always known the kind of person he was, but it still shocks her. It’s
dark, even for him.
Silence falls between them.
It takes Emma several moments to find her voice and even though she he won't look at
her, she knows he's thinking the worst.
"God, Killian," she says, her words almost too thick to get around the lump in her throat.
"I am so sorry." She leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Maybe she should be
disturbed by what he's done, but her feelings are so far from revulsion. She's proud of
him, for finally sharing his darkest demons with her. And she's in awe that even after all
that, he had the courage to love, to reach out to a little girl who had been lost and
neglected just like he had.
He looks at her like she is losing her mind, fingertips brushing at her tears as though he
can't believe they’re there. His breath ghosts across her cheeks in short, ragged puffs.
"How can you look at me like that?"
"You're pretty easy to look at."
It's not smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch up. He runs his hand through his hair,
before reaching for the mug of rum. He sips it, now, rather than gulping it down.
She tugs on his arm, pulling him with her as she lies back. He wraps his arms around
her waist, his cheek pressed against her shoulder as they stretch out on the couch. He
hums as she continues massaging his scalp.
"What happened to your brother?" she asks.
She feels his breath catch as he considers his answer.
"I imagine he came over with Regina's curse."
"Well, maybe we could find out what happened to him," she says, playing with the hair
curling at the nape of his neck. He relaxes under her touch, though his face remains
serious. "I can ask Regina if you want."
124

He lifts his head, staring up at her with wonder. "I don't deserve you."
Craning her neck, she kisses him softly. "The feeling is mutual," she whispers against
his lips.
"That is absolute rubbish," he says, pushing away from her almost angrily. "He's an
orphan. Because of me, Emma. Because of what I did. How can you say—"
"Hey." She follows, catching his arm before he runs off in a huff. Though where he'd go
at 3 a.m. she doesn't know—and she doesn't care to find out. "All sins can be forgiven
when someone loves you, remember?"
Killian deflates.
"I did not follow you to hell to be scared off by something you did decades ago. Not
when you would change it if you could." She strokes his cheek, smiling when he meets
her eyes. She wishes she could spend forever, just like this. No Hyde. No Evil Regina.
Nothing to disturb their little bubble. Just her and those blue eyes that look at her like
she hung the stars. And then she remembers Henry and her parents and the friends
she has here.
Okay, she definitely doesn't mind a few disturbances.
"You are a saint," he says, "putting up with me like you do."
Emma shrugs. "Pretty selfish of me, actually."
He raises one incredulous eyebrow. "You? Selfish? Love, every time a crisis occurs I
have to hound you to remember the basic necessities." He wrinkles his nose. “Like
laundry and sleeping and showering.”
"Why do it myself, when you do such a good job?" she asks, kissing him again, savoring
the taste of rum and chocolate on his lips.
“Hmmm, I see. You’re just using me for my body. Yes, terribly selfish of you.”
She laughs, softly because the last thing she wants right now is Henry coming down
and scolding them for waking him up. She can just see his look of disapproval at having
the audacity to make out on the couch when he’s in the house. He’s done it often
enough.
“Not quite,” she says.
He tilts his head. “Then I fail to see how giving this old pirate his happy ending is selfish
of you.”
125

She almost laughs it off and makes a joke, but he was honest with her and she knows
he would never laugh at the real reason. No, he’d cherish it.
She scoots back, taking his hand in both of hers. “Do you remember when you found
me in New York and I said what I wanted wasn’t in the cards for the savior?”
“Aye?” He says it reverently, with a soft smile.
“This is what I wanted.”
“And by this you mean…”
She bites her lip, waiting, because she knows it’s coming. The little nod that means go
ahead. She doesn’t need it. Hasn’t needed it for weeks, not since that day outside
Granny’s, but she loves it just the same.
He doesn’t disappoint. Tilting his head just so, his whole attention on her.
She smiles. “My happy ending.”
"Swan, you don't need me—"
"Yes, I do." She pauses, taking a deep breath before plunging on. "You're an important
part—maybe even the most important part of it. Until you to me—I mean, I didn’t—” She
sighs, taking a breath to collect her thoughts. “You were the first person that made me
believe my happy ending was possible, Killian. You've crossed realms for me, you
brought me home—hell, you gave up your home—"
"You are my home," he cuts in.
Emma narrows her eyes. “I am baring my soul here, would you stop interrupting?”
Pressing his lips tight together, Killian pantomimes a locking motion and then throwing
the key away. She has to look away to keep from bursting into loud guffaws at his
cheeky grin.
"My parents love me, they gave up everything so I could have the chance to grow up,
but—I am all grown up now...I don’t need them, not like Neal does—they can’t make me
a priority. Not the way you do." She shrugs, her fingers stroking up and down his
forearm, finding comfort in the way his hair tickles against her palm. “The point is, you
never stop fighting for me. And I will never stop fighting for you, Killian Jones." She
leans in to kiss his cheek again. "I want it all—everything I never believed was possible
until I met you—with you and only you."
He stares at her, awe bright in his eyes. A quiet smile creeps on his lips, the motion
sending a tear trickling down his cheek. She catches it with a swipe of her thumb and
126

wonders why she never told him this before. She makes a vow right then, to use her
words more and rely less on her actions to remind him just how much he means to her.
"You might be the best thing that ever happened to me," she says, teasing.
Both eyebrows shoot up, his forehead rumpling adorably. "Might?" he says, feigning
offense.
She shrugs. "I'm pretty sure. Like, eighty-three percent."
His grin widens, his eyes flashing mischievously. "Oh, well, we'll have to see about
that." He surges forward, both arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against
him as he captures her mouth with his own.
She breaks away, giggling softly. "Hold on there, pirate. We have company tonight..."
"Emma," he says with a little growl that does a real number on her self-control, "I am
trying to romance you, now is not the time for awful puns about my profession."
"Hey! You like my puns," she says, swatting at his arm when he starts to protest again.
"You like my puns," she repeats, her tone daring him to challenge her.
"Yes, dear," he says in a deadpan imitation of her father that has her giggling all over
again.
"Anyways, before you so rudely interrupted me...again…"
He does that thing with his eyebrow, suggesting that he knows exactly what his
interruptions do to her.
"...I was going to suggest moving somewhere where we're less likely to be interrupted
by hungry teenagers."
"Ah." He grins again, tongue peeking out briefly. In one smooth motion, he's on his feet
with her still in his arms. "I shall bow to your wisdom then, my lady."
Emma muffles her laughter against his shoulder as he carries her up the stairs.
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1783046/TheGladElf
127

128

She’s A Marvel
A Storybook Proposal
129

She’s A Marvel
A Storybook Proposal
“Thanks for your help, mate,” Killian says and hands David a bottle of beer. To him, it's
still odd that any other libation than rum and wine comes in a bottle – beer should be in
barrels, really – but this is the 21 st century, and besides, it has its perks. He kept those
bottles in a bucket with cold water aboard his ship, and so they have an acceptable
temperature.
David wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and takes the offered bottle,
eyeing his daughter's boyfriend with mild suspicion. “What was this really about?”
Killian scratches behind his ear. “Uh, what?” he frowns and fetches a bottle for himself.
“I don't...”
“Oh, come on,” David interrupts and plops the swing top of the bottle open. “Out with it,
Hook. You've navigated this ship alone for quite some time, you could have done that
bit of handiwork alone. You didn't really need my help.”
“Alright, alright, you got me.” Killian opens his bottle, too, and tilts his head. “I was doing
you a favor. With your little one teething I thought you could use a bit of–”
“Killian.” Oddly enough, David is one of the people who still call him by his old moniker
most of the time, even though he is – there's no use denying it – his best friend. Maybe
because he is. They are so comfortable with their friendship now that they can say
almost everything to each other without it being offensive. They have developed that
routine of friendly throwing around nicknames like Hook, prince, mate, pirate that it
actually stands out whenever David calls Killian by his first name. Mostly it's a sign of
seriousness.
Killian sighs and knows that he can't delay the moment any longer, and anyway – David
is right. There was a reason why he lured him on the Jolly Roger on this hot summer
afternoon under the pretext of “needing a hand” with some repair work. “You're quite the
perceptive prince,” he grumbles and puts down his bottle while David patiently waits, an
amused grin on his face.
Killian reaches into the pocket of his jeans and fumbles a bit before he can pull out the
item he's looking for – serves you right, David thinks, why do you always have to wear
those extra tight pants, just to prove a point? But then he manages, and David is really
curious now what it is that the pirate makes such a fuss about. A very small worn
leather purse is dangling from the tip of Killian's hook, and with deft fingers he extracts a
small object that he presents to David on his palm. Emma's father is only mildly
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surprised to see that it is a ring – a woman's ring, fine silver wrought into some sort of
celtic braid, encircling a pale greenish opal that glitters in various shades of green and
blue, according to the light.
"So, what do you think?" Killian asks a little nervously.
David clears his throat. "Well...” he sways his head from side to side, not being able to
resist the occasion to tease his mate. “As much as you've grown on me against all odds,
and as much as our relationship has developed, I'm afraid I have to decline."
Killian raises his eyebrows and stares at David, all dumbfounded, before he realizes
that the prince has been pulling his leg. His mouth curves into an unusually
embarrassed grin, and his mate slaps his shoulder hard. "So, you've finally pulled your
wits together and decided to ask for my daughter's hand?"
Killian tilts his head. "With all due regard and just so we're clear...” – he looks a little
apologetic – “you don't get a say in this. But,” he motions to David appeasingly, “as
Emma's father and perhaps also a...” – at this point he has to avert his eyes when he
scratches behind his ear again – “...a friend I'd love for you to approve. Besides, I
consider it indeed..."
David waves him off. "Yeah yeah, I know, good form,” he finishes Killian's sentence.
This is how far they've come. “So, long story short, you're asking my permission without
actually leaving me a choice, is that right?" He folds his arms and looks at Killian
severely, his pale blue eyes sparkling with benevolent irony.
The pirate is clearly nervous now. "I..."
David chuckles and slaps his shoulder again. "Hook, I'm just kidding,” he soothes,
taking pity on his friend. “If you haven't noticed, I've given my totally unnecessary
blessing to this a long time ago.” Killian grins in embarrassment and looks down at the
ring in his hand. “I admit,” David continues, “if I'd had a say in it, at least at the beginning
I wouldn't have picked you as a companion for my daughter.” Killian sways his head to
the side, not surprised at David's words. Well, he can't even blame the prince, to be
honest. But his next words make the tips of his ears turn slightly pink. “Luckily, Emma is
much smarter than me.”
Killian shuffles his feet a little uncomfortably – Killian Jones and compliments still don't
go all too well together – and averts his eyes. Then he clears his throat and asks flatout,
“So, I assume we're having the talk now?”
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Emma's father snorts. “You mean the you-break-her-heart-I-break-your-neck talk?” He
shrugs. “I'd say we're already past that.” He leans a little forward, searching Killian's
gaze, pointing his index finger at him. “You told me once you'd go to the end of the
world for her, or time,” he reminds him. “And you proved that over and over again since
then.”
Killian's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do,” David replies indignantly. “I know that most people think from Emma's
parents Mary Margaret is the clever one.” Killian grins, but refrains from giving his friend
a sassy line. “And probably she is... but I'm not stupid either.” David leans a little forward
and motions his head to the ring in Killian's hand. “May I?” he asks, and when Killian
nods once, he carefully picks up the ring. The artfully wrought silver looks ancient, and
the green opal mysterious. It's not as bright as a diamond but captures the light just as
fine; it reminds him of the very rare green flash at sunset he's only seen once in his life.
“It's graceful and simple,” he says. “Just beautiful.” Killian smiles, obviously pleased with
David's appraisal. Then, suddenly, the prince's eyes narrow suspiciously. “This had
better not come from a buccaneering spree.”
Killian isn't offended; it's obvious that this ring is old, and given his former occupation...
well, it isn't that far-fetched a thought. Regardless, David couldn't be any more wrong. “It
belonged to my mother,” Killian reveals, and Emma's father looks at him in surprise. He
knows that Killian lost his mother when he was a child, and that he has spent the good
part of his younger years in servitude, so he obviously assumed that he had nothing left
of his mother. But Liam has seen to that, and Killian has been carrying his mother's ring
in the small leather purse in his pocket for longer than he can remember.
David nods quietly and gives the ring back. “The ring I gave Snow was my mother's,
too,” he remarks.
Killian grins. “I know. I helped you get it back, remember?” Carefully, he puts the ring
back into its purse.
David snorts. “Yeah, after you'd had her steal it from me!”
“All for the greater good,” Killian retorts smoothly and stuffs the little purse back into the
pocket of his jeans. “So... what do you think, will she accept?”
“Oh, come on.” David waves his hand dismissively. “You should know by now that
Emma is irrevocably, irremediably in love with you.” Killian raises his eyebrows at him,
and David shrugs. “I can throw around big words, too. The thing is, she loves you. Truly,
madly, deeply,” he adds a bit reluctantly.
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Killian nods with a pleased smile but combines it with a nervous ear scratch. “Aye, I'm
not doubting that.”
David frowns. “Then what's your problem?”
The pirate tilts his head. “Well, I'm asking myself...” he pauses for a second, as if he's
scared to say the words out loud, but then he draws a deep breath and blurts out, “if
she's actually ready.” He plucks an imaginary lint from the tip of his hook. “I mean, I
don't want to scare her...”
David nods slowly, understanding now what's worrying his friend. Given the extremely
slow burn of their relationship, he isn't even surprised. But if he's sure about one thing,
then that his daughter won't even hesitate for the blink of an eye before accepting a
proposal of the man she went to hell for. “I wouldn't worry,” he says and smiles to
himself when he sees Killian's worry partly dissolve into relief. “I mean,” he adds with a
shrug, “of course, she's a woman and she's her mother's daughter, so doing something
unpredictable is not completely out of the question, but...” He slaps Killian's shoulder
again. “No, I wouldn't worry.”
A broad grin splits Killian's face.
Later, when he gets home he finds Emma still hasn't gotten home from work, and he's
relieved about that – because there's another secret talk he wants to have. Quickly, he
hurries up the stairs and knocks at the door to Henry's room.
“Yeah?” comes the immediate answer.
Killian opens the door and peeks inside carefully; the boy is alone at his desk, his
brunette head bent over a book. Good. “Lad, can we talk for a moment?”
Henry looks up from his homework, always happy about a distraction. “Sure, what's
up?”
Killian slips into the room and closes the door, even if they are alone in the house.
“Well, it's a little delicate,” he starts tentatively and clears his throat, “and it would have
to stay strictly between us.”
Henry's face lights up. “What did you do?”
This lad is definitely his suspicious mother's son. “Nothing!” Killian assures quickly. “Not
yet, that is.”
Henry's jaw drops, his homework completely forgotten now. “Ooooh... that's even
better.” His eyes sparkle with devilish glee. “You're planning to do something, and mom
isn't supposed to know.”
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Killian waves his hook vaguely. “Well, aye, but... she's going to find out. Later.”
“Is it illegal?” The boy doesn't sound as if he'd mind.
“Of course not!” Killian contradicts in fierce indignation and lifts a reprimanding eyebrow.
“Why would you even consider this?” When Henry tilts his head in a very hook-ish way,
Killian raises his hand. “Alright, I see your point. Anyway, I can assure you, it's not in
any way repugnant to the law.”
Henry folds his arms and frowns in confusion. “Well, then, what is it?”
Killian shuffles his feet. “Look, you know that your mother and I are...” he pauses and
waves his hand a little aimlessly before he goes on, “well, you know, together.”
“Yeah, I know,” Henry replies in an amused voice. “I live in this house, remember?”
“Aye,” he replies almost absentmindedly and tilts his head. “Anyway, I thought, I would
love to, I mean...” Stumbling over his own words, he falls silent, hastily rummaging
around in his usually quick mind for a way to reveal the delicate news to Emma's lad.
“Shoot me!” Henry suddenly exclaims, his reaction startling Killian a little, and points his
index finger at him like a sword. “You're planning to propose, aren't you? That's it!”
The lad's voice is excited, and Killian feels relief settle in. He knows that Emma's son
likes him, that he considers him already family. That he approves of him and his mother
being a couple, that living under the same roof, as a family, has become a natural thing
for him. But still, this – this is one big step further, and a part of Killian was a little
anxious about Henry's reaction. But the excitement and joy in the boy's eyes leave no
questions open about his attitude towards this. Killian averts his eyes for a moment and
scratches behind his ear. “So, I take it you don't mind if...”
“Are you kidding me?” Henry interrupts. “I've been asking myself already when you'd
finally pop the question! And let me tell you I'm not the only one.” When Killian raises a
surprised eyebrow, the boy chuckles. “Everyone's waiting for it.”
“Well, it's not that I didn't want to,” Killian clarifies, “I just thought she might need a little
more time, you know.”
Henry nods. “Yeah. Can't blame you. But I believe in her.” Of course he would say that.
He grins. “She's ready.” Leaning a little forward curiously, he wants to know, “So, when
are you gonna do it?”
“Soon, lad, soon.” Killian scratches behind his ear again. “But I'd like to ask you a favor
first.”
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“What's that?” Henry asks eagerly.
Killian tilts his head. “You see, my closest friend besides Emma, of course, is probably
your grandfather,” he admits and, as he sees the boy's amused grin, adds dryly, “but
don't tell Dave that I said that. Anyway... he's the father of the bride, so I can't ask him
to.”
Henry is clueless. “To what?”
“To be my best man.”
“I see.” The boy shakes his head slowly. “No, you can't,” he confirms. “That's a
problem.” Briefly, a sad shadow flickers across his young face, and Killian knows he's
thinking about Robin Hood, the man his other mother loved. He certainly would have
been an excellent choice, too – a good man and a good mate.
“Would you consider to do me the honors?” Killian asks softly, and the boy's eyes grow
wide and then light up again, the sadness fading to a faint melancholy.
“Me?” he asks incredulously. “You want me to be your best man?”
“I couldn't imagine a more appropriate choice.” Killian tilts head. “I hope it's not
presumptuous to ask.”
The obvious pleasure on Henry's face touches him deeply. “Sure,” the lad answers,
trying to keep a nonchalant expression. “I'll do it.”
Killian beams. “Good. Then that's settled.”
He has the approval of the two other important men in Emma's life. Now all he needs is
her yes. That has him slightly nervous, but there's no point in procrastinating any longer,
and so he starts to plan the perfect date.
***
Emma's had an exhausting day at the sheriff's station, and she's glad that she won't
have to work the day after. For a moment she contemplates to call Killian and ask him
for a rain check for the picnic date he planned for them on his ship, because honestly,
all she wants (and has the energy for) right now is to go home, slump on their couch,
prop up her feet in his lap and eat some takeaway meal directly from the box. But on the
other hand, she doesn't want to disappoint him; when he told her earlier what he has
planned – some sort of romantic picnic date under a starlit sky on that soft balmy
summer evening – how could she have the heart to tell him she prefers to go home?
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When she asked him what the occasion is, he answered vaguely that he just wants to
celebrate them having a quiet moment for once, and why does he even need an
occasion to plan a romantic evening with her? Emma knows something's up and that
there's more to it than just that – she might be an open book for him, but she has her
super powers – but she doesn't poke any further, decides just to take it easy and see
what happens. After he even tells her that she doesn't need to dress up or anything,
she's convinced. She trusts Killian that he, as usual, will exactly provide what she needs
to relax and feel better. Whenever she's allowed him to take care of her in whatever
way, she has never regretted it so far, and she's getting the hang of it.
When she parks her yellow bug at the mole, she can see soft light shining from the deck
of the ship which means that Killian has obviously lighted the lanterns on deck. The
gleam has already a soothing effect on her, and with a contented sigh she gets off the
car and carefully steps on the gangplank that leads her aboard the gently swaying ship.
Killian is already expecting her and offers her a dazzling smile and his hand to help her
step on deck. The moment she stands safe on the wooden planks, he pulls her close
and greets her with a lingering kiss. Another bit of tension falls from her shoulders, and
she sighs against his lips.
“Tiring day, love?” he asks and rubs soothing circles on her back.
“Yeah,” she replies, “I'm completely finished.”
“You can relax now,” he tells her and motions to an island of blankets and cushions he's
built on the wooden floor. “Make yourself comfortable.”
An hour later, she almost feels like reborn. Killian has offered a variety of a few dishes
he knows she likes, her favorite red wine and apple pie, he encouraged her to rant
about the unnerving, totally unnecessary emergency calls she received today while he
massages her feet, and now her moving his fingertips in light circles over her scalp
while her head is resting in his lap and she's complaining about that weird noise her
beloved bug has started to make this very afternoon.
“Mhm,” he hums a little absentmindedly and combs his fingers through her hair while
she sighs and remarks that she needn't even bother to get upset, because if all else
fails she can fix her car with magic. The more he can feel the tension rolling off of her,
the more nervous he's getting, because the moment is approaching, the moment when
he won't be able to put it off any longer. It's not like he doesn't want to do it, but there's
still that tiny part of him that's afraid of her reaction, afraid to see her get afraid. Dave's
encouraged him, and so has her lad – but still. They have gone through a lot, more than
any couple probably, and they came out stronger from every new ordeal, but the times
when she kept pushing him away, when she had her armor up even with him, they are
not so far in the past. His mother's ring has been burning a hole in his pocket all
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evening, and his fingers are fidgeting more than usual out of sheer nervousness. But
Killian Jones has never been the one to shy away from a challenge nor to back off from
a risky move. And he surely has never been unwilling to fight for what he wants. When
he notices that Emma has fallen silent, he draws a deep breath.
A calmness has settled deep in her bones, and the tension and annoyance of the day
are gone, just like that. Emma smiles to herself, knowing that it's not about the quiet
evening, the comfortable picnic isle or the food, not about the wine or the apple pie. It's
all that too, yes, it's the thoughtfulness, the feeling of being taken care of by someone
so familiar that they know your weaknesses, soft spots, what will rile you up and what
will calm you down. So comfortable and easy, so... home.
Shifting herself into a sitting position, she smiles at Killian and tells him, “You sure know
how to show a girl a good time.”
He just can't help but smirk while smoothing out her air with his hook, a familiar gesture
and one of the first displays of tenderness he ever dared to show, even when they
weren't together yet. “Aye, so I've been told,” he replies in a low timbre.
Emma rolls eyes at him and slaps his chest with the back of her hand. Throwing him an
annoyed glance, she revels in the sparkle of his eyes. His eyes are always a marvel to
look at – to drown in – but she has the impression that tonight they're particularly
beautiful, softly shining with tenderness and affection. The skin around them creases
when he smiles, forming the crinkles she loves so much. It's all so comfortable and easy
with him, she thinks again, and like being pulled by an invisible magnet, she leans in to
kiss him.
He barely moves, letting her come all the way to him, and when their lips touch, she
feels his hand in her hair, gently cupping the back of her head, like he loves to do. The
kiss is slow and thorough, soft and sweet, unusual for them without teetering on the
edge of passion. It's not making her head spin or boiling heat course through her veins
– a comforting warmth settles deep in her belly instead. The ever-present butterflies are
not making her stomach flip, they just flutter gently. Emma has learned that not every
kiss has to be one for the ages, one that leads to entangled limbs and panting and
racing heartbeats. Sometimes all she needs is a kiss that tastes like homemade pie,
warm and comforting like a bubble bath and soft like her favorite pillow. Exactly what
she needed today, and Killian lets her have it, he lets her take exactly what she needs,
and it strikes her again how absurdly well he knows her. Open book. He always knows
what she needs, and he always provides it.
She doesn't have to pretend with him. There are days when she feels like she can't
make ends meet, like she isn't even capable of saving a wayward spider from the
kitchen sink, let alone someone else's day. Then he encourages her, tells her she can
137

do it, reminds her of all the villains she's defeated, of all the obstacles she's overcome,
including her own walls and fears. Sometimes he even gives her what she doesn't know
she needs, like telling her uncomfortable truths. When she just needs to unload the
baggage of the day, like today, he listens and lets her talk, calming her nerves with a
soothing touch here and there. Sometimes, when that's not enough, when she needs to
get rid of too much adrenaline in her veins, pumping her into a foul mood, he lets her
pick a fight, and because he knows she needs to dump her frustration and anger
somewhere, he gives her contra. And later, when she corners him with her apology, he
holds her like she needs to be held and makes love to her slowly and tenderly,
whispering sweet words, but sometimes he's rough with her, hair pulling and
manhandling and all, his voice commanding, dark and low, but it's always lovemaking.
It's not like it's a one-side track, though; she's there for him, too. He's learned to accept
that there are people who care for him. So, she's the one to make his nightmares wane
when they shake his sleep from time to time. When his mood gets broody and dark with
memories of his past sins, she's the one to remind him that he was strong enough to
become the man he's always wanted to be. And when he's caught in old habits like
preparing to face every foul task and difficult time alone, she tells him that he's not alone
anymore – he has her, he has friends now and a family.
Emma's eyes lock with his, and she sees the intensity of his feelings and the softness
and depth lingering beneath the tease, the love beneath the desire, the seriousness
beneath the flirting, and she thinks it cannot possibly get any better than that. And
spontaneously, she blurts out, “Marry me.”
“What?!” She caught him completely off guard, just when he was about to pull the ring
out of his pocket. But then, this is his Swan, his tough lass, the bravest woman he
knows, who will never ever cease to surprise, to amaze him. Why was he nervous
again?
Of course, Emma takes his startled reaction for shock and is now startled herself –
frightened by her own courage. “Uh... what?” She shrugs defensively and pulls back a
little. “This is the 21 st Century,” she remarks indignantly. “A woman can ask a man if he
wants to marry her.” He's so overwhelmed that he just continues to stare at her with
wide blue eyes, and now she gets a little nervous. “Say something?” When he doesn't
react immediately, her nervousness increases, and starts to ramble mindlessly. “I mean,
if you need time, it's fine.” She licks her lips and combs her hair behind her ears with
both hands. “You don't have to... it's not like... maybe it's not even your thing to...” She
falls silent when the words remain stuck in her throat. God, has she made a complete
fool of herself?
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Then he finally has pulled his wits together again. “Swan,” he interrupts softly, the hint of
a tender tease to his voice. He tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow. “Are you trying to
make an honorable man out of me?”
And suddenly, she's calm. His voice and his eyes tell her everything she needs to know.
A wave of relief and warmth rolls over her and engulfs her in happiness. “You are an
honorable man,” she scolds with very little edge to her voice.
Killian snorts a little embarrassed laugh and averts his eyes for a second, he can't help
it. “Alright, so,” – he gestures vaguely with his hook – “where's the ring?”
“The ring?” she echoes in feigned annoyance. “Really?”
He raises a mock-indignant eyebrow at her. “Are you saying you're proposing to me
without a ring?” he drawls, feeling absolutely elated that they can tease each other so
comfortably, that it's all so natural, and he's full of wonder about how far they've both
come. It's a blessing how she's finally completely opened up to him, how much she
loves him and isn't afraid of it anymore, and that he doesn't feel unworthy of that
anymore and can just bask in it. “Now I can tolerate you not going down on one knee,
but no ring?” he tilts his head. “That's bad form, Swan.”
Emma half snorts, half laughs. “Please,” she huffs, “you don't even have a free finger.”
“Ah, but...” he shifts a little, stuffing his hand into his pocket with some effort, and
finishes triumphantly, “I have this.” With three fingers, he holds up the wrought silver
band and waits for her reaction.
She frowns as her eyes fall on the ring, the glitter in her irises he same as the golden
reflections in the green opal. “What's... I– I don't understand?” Her mouth is dry all of a
sudden.
Killian tilts his head in a shrug. “Well, it looks like you're the braver one again, Swan.”
She hikes up her eyes to his face again, a question in them. His show a genuine,
affectionate smile bare of any mockery now. “You managed to do spontaneously what I
had planned and rehearsed in my head over and over again and what made me
nervous for days,” he admits freely.
Emma's eyes widen when her swirling mind grasps the meaning of his words. “Wait,
what?” She motions between the ring and them both. “Are you saying you were
planning...”
He smiles, bare of any mockery. “It was only a matter of moments,” he nods. “I was
about to offer you this ring and the rest of my miserable existence.”
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Her fingers are flexing, wanting to reach for the ring he's still holding up but not yet
daring it. Instead, she threads them through her hair again. “Killian... it's gorgeous,” she
murmurs.
“It belonged to my mother,” he replies quietly and watches her blink rapidly, before her
beautiful mouth curves into a loving smile. If she's surprised that he has something left
of his mother, she doesn't show it.
She's speechless only for a moment. “And you want me to wear it?” she asks softly.
“Aye.” He smooths out her hair with his hook. “I want you to wear it with a white dress or
a leather jacket, whatever you like, when I marry you on this very deck. Under the
stars.”
The admission that he already has envisioned it all in his mind touches her deeply. Her
eyes twinkle with fond amusement. “Ah, and what...” she runs her fingers from the tip to
the base of his hook. “What are you going to wear?”
“Something appropriate for the occasion,” he tells her and winks. “I've already placed an
order with the local tailor.”
“You have it all planned, haven't you?” she playfully pokes her index finger into his
chest. “Just how could you be so sure I would say yes?” She raises her chin and folds
her arms. “Who do you think you are, God's gift to women or something?”
Killian tilts his head. “To be precise, a God's gift to a woman,” he replies smoothly, “but
yes, technically that's what I am.” She can't help but snort a laugh. He grins in response,
full of mischief and tenderness. “Alas, since you beat me at the question, it's quite
redundant to discuss my expectations.” The softness of his voice betrays the emotions
behind his teasing.
Emma rolls her eyes. “Alright, Captain Godsent, is that your pompous way of saying
you'll marry me?”
“Aye, it is.” He catches her wrist with his hook, and suddenly his expression is bare of
any teasing, has gone completely serious now, and slips the ring on her finger. “I'm
yours,” he simply says, his voice low and rough with emotion. He looks up at her only to
find her eyes resting on his face, a calm, content smile shining in them. “If you want
me.”
The fingers of her left hand curl around his, while her right hand reaches for his hook,
taking a firm hold on it, as she replies loud and clear, “I do.”
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If you enjoyed my story, check out more of my fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2660987/sandra70
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/laschatzi
Title art can be purchased – www.redbubble.com/people/flipperbrain
141

142

Musings
Story by @flslp87 and @whimsicalenchantedrose
Artwork by @flipperbrain
143

Musings
She stood at the counter slowly stirring her cocoa while she stared out the window. She
had a job to do, but it was quiet; almost too quiet, and she wasn't used to that. Henry
was staying at Regina's and Killian on the Jolly Roger. It was the night before her
wedding and she needed to write her vows. She had been putting it off, not because
she didn't want to marry Killian, not because she didn't know what to say to him, but
because she wanted to say too much. How did you tell the man you love he had
become your everything in just a few words?
Taking a pen and a piece of paper, she sat down at the table and started writing. Ten
minutes later, she laid down her pen, let out a deep breath and rubbed at her temples.
Picking up the paper, she read what she’d just written…and then swore viciously under
her breath.
It was total crap! Seriously, how did she manage to find every single ridiculous cliché
out there in just ten minutes? This was the most sickly-sentimental piece of garbage
she’d ever read. No way she could stand up in front of all their family and friends and
say something like that.
Emma picked up the paper, balled it up and tossed it into the trash can. Back to the
drawing board.
Why was it so hard to translate what was in her heart onto the paper? She’d bet Killian
wasn’t having this kind of difficulty. With his way for words, he’d probably written the
perfect set of vows ten minutes after he’d proposed.
What Emma needed was advice, someone to use as a sounding board.
And then the perfect solution hit her suddenly. She needed to go talk to Henry. Maybe
she could find out what Killian was going to say to her and it would help her decide what
to say.
Arriving at Regina’s, she knocked softly so as not to wake baby Robyn. Henry opened
the door, a startled look on his face, “Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Hey kid. Can we talk?”
Henry walked out and shut the door behind him. “Sure mom, what’s up?”
Putting her hands in the back pockets of her pants and kicking her foot back and forth
across a pile of dirt, Emma looked at the ground, “Well, I wanted to ask you…”
Henry interrupted, “You still haven’t written your vows, have you?”
Raising her eyebrows at how even her son read her like an open book, she made a face
before replying, “Busted. Help me out here. What did Killian write in his?”
144

“Mom,” Henry responded, his voice quite flabbergasted, “I can’t tell you that! I’m the
best man! The best man code prevents me from sharing any secrets.”
“Really! You’re going to pull that one?”
“Yep. Now go home and try it again. Just put what’s in your heart.” Then he pushed
her down the sidewalk before shutting the door behind him.
Emma blew out air and threw up her hands. “Now what?” She said as she got back in
the bug. Desperate measures call for shots of rum. Maybe if she was going to find a
way to think like her pirate, she had to drink like her pirate.
Emma pulled up at the Rabbit Hole and stepped into the noisy, dark interior. She
stepped up to the bar, ordered her rum, and then wandered over to the pool table where
six of the dwarfs seemed to be having a rousing game. (Sleepy was asleep in a chair
along the wall.)
“Hey, sister!” Leroy called, saluting her with his pool cue. “What are you doing out on
the night before your wedding? Enjoying your last night of singlehood?”
Emma snorted. “I wish. I’ve got about 18 hours to figure out how to write vows that’ll
both show Killian how I feel about him and keep me from looking like an idiot in front of
the whole town.”
“So no pressure then?” Doc asked, as he lined up to take his next shot.
“I ain’t never been married,” Leroy said, “but, seems to me you oughta just write what’s
in your heart.”
Emma rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically. “Write what’s in my heart, write what’s in
my heart! Why’s that the only advice anyone gives me? Don’t you think if I knew how
to express what’s in my heart I’d have done it already?”
“Sister,” Leroy continued, after taking a moment to hit dopey upside the head when he
hit the opposite team’s balls into the corner pocket, “I know what you can do. This
method is foolproof. All you have to do is go talk to your Pirate. Look in his eyes and
you’ll know exactly what to say to him. Now get outa here so we can play pool.” Then
he pushed her toward the door.
Emma walked out of the Rabbit Hole and thought about what Leroy had said, “Maybe
Grumpy has a little of Dreamy left in him,” she muttered. Before she knew it she had
driven to the docks and was walking toward Killian.
She could see him watching her as she carefully stepped over the coils of rope and
canvas that littered the dock area where the Jolly Roger was anchored. His smile
reaching his eyes, and as she took the last few steps, he reached for her hand, and
gave it a squeeze. “Hello love, what brings you down here at this time of night? I
thought it was bad form for the bride to be seen by the groom on their big day?” he
teased.
145

Emma placed her hand along his jaw, “I missed you. Isn’t that enough reason for me to
be here?”
Killian smirked at her, “Still having trouble writing your vows? I told you we don’t have
to write them, Swan.”
Reaching up, Emma gave him a quick kiss, “Killian you speak flowery words like John
Keats or Lord Byron. How do I compete with that?”
“Swan,” he whispered as he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her
waist pulling her body flush to his, “It is not the quantity of the words you say, but the
quality of the words that matter. You say one word and I will listen and cherish it for the
rest of my days.”
“See, that was beautiful.” She told him gazing up at him.
“I love you Emma. Tell me what is in your heart.” He said just before his lips covered
hers and all thought drifted off into the night.
Wrapped in the warm embrace of the man she loved she just knew what to write. She
broke the kiss with a soft gasp.
Killian gave her a quizzical look. “Something the matter, Swan?”
“Just the opposite, actually!” She said, stepping out of his embrace and giving him a
quick smile of reassurance. “I think that inspiration I’ve been looking for for weeks has
finally struck.”
“Then go, love,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Far be it from me to get in the way of
you writing an ode to how much you adore me.”
She swatted him playfully, and then reached up to bring his mouth down for one last
quick kiss. “I love you,” she said, just before turning and walking back toward her bug.
“And I you, Emma,” he replied, “to the end of my days and far, far beyond.”
Emma knew the soft, secret smile those words elicited in her would stick with her until
her pirate was finally her husband.
Back at her desk in the home she and Killian would share as a married couple starting
tomorrow night, Emma once again took up her pen.
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146

Whispers
147

Whispers
She watched him from the doorway where she was leaning on the frame, as he sat at
the desk in their study concentrating deeply. She could see it in the ridge of his posture,
his forearm flexing as he scribbled furiously at his task. The furrow of his brow, when he
paused to think of what to write next. The tick of his jaw which caused a twitch of his
ears as he ground his teeth. Emma loved to watch him, and experience all these little
nuances when he wasn’t aware she was around, and although she'd be hard-pressed to
find a part of him that she wasn't a fan of, she unequivocally adored his elf ears.
"What are you working on," she asked, giggling as he jumped a mile out of his chair.
"Good Gods Swan, you're liable to give a man a heart attack sneaking up on him like
that," he said in lieu of answering her question.
She approached him at his desk, and it wasn't lost on her that he turned his papers over
as she was nearing.
"Anything I can help with?" she asked him.
"It's actually the one thing you can’t help me with, love," he answered, scratching shyly
behind his precious ear.
“We don’t have to write our own vows Killian, we can do the traditional ones if you
want,” she assured him.
“Rubbish! There is nothing traditional about us darling,” he argued.
Walking behind him, she draped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his
shoulder.
“Too true babe,” she whispered in his ear, giving it a kiss, and hugging him close.
He shook his head chuckling, trying to pull away from her a bit.
Wait, did Captain Hook have sensitive ears? She blew a warm breath over his ear, to
test her theory.
He dispensed with a laugh, trying again to wiggle away. It was too late though, she
knew his secret.
"I can't believe it," she started, then teased, "The feared Captain Hook has ticklish
ears?"
"I am not ticklish," he scoffed, "perhaps a little sensitive is all."
148

"Oooohh, how so?" she probed, her voice a purr. "Does it feel good?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he questioned, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“Perhaps I would, Pirate,” she popped her t, causing him to shiver a bit.
“Mmmmm,” he groaned, “how is a man supposed to get anything done around here, if
his lass is distracting him.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play, right Captain?” she crooned.
“What’s that, darling?” he played along, biting at his bottom lip.
“Well… I’m not really sure, let’s never find out,” she made her move then, licking the
shell of his right ear, while bringing her hand up to massage the lobe of his left ear
between her thumb and index finger.
“Swaaaan,” he moaned, bringing his hand to her neck to secure her in her place.
She gently nibbled from the pointed tip at the top of his ear, down along its crimped
helix. She could feel him draw in a deep breath, as she continued to caress the other.
He squirmed in pleasure at the titillating experience. Sure she’d kissed or licked them
here and there, but never like the homage she was currently paying them.
She bit down a little harder at the second point of his ear, right above the lobe, eliciting
a jerk of his body. Then she smoothed over the love bite with her tongue and lips,
causing a stuttered sigh to leave his mouth. Humming appreciatively at his responses,
she moved down lower and sucked his lobe, earring and all into her mouth, garnering
more noises of want from Killian.
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149

150

The Night Before
The Wedding
Story by @lizzyc807shipscaptainswan
Artwork by @flipperbrain
151

The night before the wedding
TIRED (Emma’s POV)
She lay awake in her apartment alone thinking of him. She wasn’t a bit tired and she
was trying to figure out how she let her parents talk her into this. This was such a stupid
tradition. She would have married him the minute he asked her if it weren’t for all the
pomp and circumstance that her mother requested.
Well maybe she wanted it too, after all you only marry your true love once but at that
moment she wanted to throw away tradition and invite him over. They were true love,
surely that was stronger than any old wives’ tale.
She pushed back the covers and walked to the kitchen, their kitchen. He’d helped her
move in all of the furniture, pick out the coffee maker, and the little white dish towels
with all the anchors on them. She brushed her hand along them lazily.
She opened the cabinet and his Captain’s mug was staring at her, mocking her. She
reached past it and pulled out the one Henry made for her in art class. It was oddly
shaped and the color wasn’t even but her son made it so it was instantly her favorite.
When she found out that Killian had asked Henry to be his best man her heart swelled.
She would be walking, no running, down the aisle towards her family. She couldn’t wait
to be Mrs. Jones, to be his family. She was proud to take his name and stand by his
side. He was her rock and always would be. They talked about children and happily
both were excited to extend their little family.
She poured a steaming mug of coffee and held it in her hands. She closed her eyes and
took in the rich scent. It was Killian’s favorite blend, the one he made when he brought
her breakfast in bed, the one he made her the morning after they made love the first
time, the one that reminded her of him.
She took a sip and lazily walked towards the couch, only interrupted by a soft knock at
the door. She looked up at the clock and it was extremely late. “Swan, it’s me.” Her
breath caught in her throat as she realized he was here. She walked towards the door
to be closer to him. ”You’re not supposed to be here, remember that stupid tradition,
you can’t see me the night before the wedding.” She heard him let out a breath.
“Love, I know, it’s just, I miss you. I haven’t slept without you since we moved into our
apartment.” She touched the door frame. “I know; I miss you too. I was trying to figure
out how to get you here under false pretenses.” He laughed. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
She smiled and closed her eyes slowly as her heart soared. “Close your eyes. “
"Alright.”
She closed her eyes and opened the door. ”Whatever you do, don’t open them ok?”
“Aye Love.”
152

She put her hands out and moved towards him. She felt his arms and up his shoulders
until she was in his embrace. She listened for his soft breath and moved her face to
align their lips. She leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his.
“I love you Killian.”
“I love you too Swan.”
She pushed back carefully and closed the door. She took a deep breath and opened
her eyes. “See you tomorrow.”
“Aye.”
She pressed her back to the door and smiled. Tomorrow he would be her husband.
Killian’s POV
He was sitting on a stool at Granny’s having a pint. The thought of going up to the lonely
room without her after they hadn’t been apart for the last few months was not appealing.
He’d waited a long time to find her, his true love. He could still hardly believe that his
dream was coming true, by this time tomorrow she would be Mrs. Emma Jones.
When he asked her to take his name he fully expected her to oppose or at the very least
he would have to put forth a great argument to convince her. When she said yes and of
course she would, he was shocked at her immediate acceptance.
When he asked her further why she was so willing she merely said it was because he
was her family and accepted her for who she was and is without question. When she
took the name “Swan” it was from the first family to take her in and show her love.
When she accepted his proposal it wasn’t just him she was accepting it was him as her
family, her future, her home. They discussed having children and it made sense they all
had the same name. So she accepted his request with ease and it only made him love
her more.
He looked around the diner and thought about earlier that day when the families were
there having dinner. He looked forward to the day when the Jones family would come in
together.
He looked at the clock on the wall and it was a ridiculously late hour. He was the only
one seated there, given strict instructions by Granny to lock up before he went to bed.
He just couldn’t force himself to go. He missed her and needed to see her. Tradition be
damned, he’d waited long enough to be with her and he’d had enough to drink to fuel
his decision to go.
153

He strolled through the door locking it behind him at Granny’s request and set off to
their apartment. He needed her, even one night apart seemed like a lifetime now that
they’d decided to be together.
He made it there in no time, he looked at the time again and shook his head. She was
probably asleep. He could just go and look in on her, make sure she was alright. That
was what he told himself.
When he got to the door he saw the lights on and he heard shuffling sounds. He
decided to knock so he didn’t scare her, the woman did yield magic after all.
He knocked lightly at the door and stood waiting in anticipation. He felt like he did the
first night he knocked on the door for their first date. “Swan, it’s me.”
He waited in anticipation for her to answer. ”You’re not supposed to be here, remember
that stupid tradition, you can’t see me the night before the wedding.” He let out a breath
he was holding and placed his hand on the door. If only he could reach through and
touch her.
“Love, I know, it’s just, I miss you. I haven’t slept without you since we moved into our
apartment.” He realized he shouldn’t have tried to push this. “I know; I miss you too. I
was trying to figure out how to get you here under false pretenses.” He laughed. “I can’t
wait to marry you.” He couldn’t hold back the grin on his face if he tried. “Close your
eyes.”
“Alright.” He took a small step back and did as she asked.
”Whatever you do, don’t open them ok?”
“Aye Love.”
He felt her soft hands on his arms and then over his shoulders. He pulled her into a soft
embrace and let the scent of strawberries and coffee envelop him. She felt so good in
his arms he didn’t want to let her go.
He felt her warm breath against his lips and he leaned in to kiss her softly. He felt the
apprehension subside as her lips touched his.
“I love you Killian.”
“I love you too Swan.”
He felt the loss of her warmth and wanted to pull her back. He knew if he did tradition be
damned he wasn’t going to leave so he allowed her to go. He heard the door click shut
and he opened his eyes.
“See you tomorrow.”
154

“Aye.”
He composed himself, gave one last look at their door and started the long walk back to
Granny’s. His heart was full because he remembered again that tomorrow she would be
his wife.
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155

156

Don’t Look Down
A Wedding on the Jolly Roger
157

Don’t look Down
A CS wedding on the Jolly Roger
“Stop!” Emma shouted above the din. “We have to stop.” She was frantically looking
under her discarded clothes, tossing them aside haphazardly.
“Emma!” Snow cried. “What is it? What are you looking for?”
“My necklace,” Emma said, her back still turned to her mother. “The anchor necklace
Killian gave me. I can't find it!”
“Emma, honey,” Snow repeated, coming into the cabin, her heels heavy on the ancient
wood. “Slow down. You're going to mess up your hair if you keep that up.”
Emma turned and faced her mother. Snow White was beautiful in a pale lavender gown
and matching heels. Her pixie hair framed her face elegantly. Emma felt a stab of
jealousy, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be as effortlessly
beautiful and gracious as the fabled Snow White. Not even today.
“What good is my hair if I can't find the necklace? I can't do this without it,” she shot
back petulantly. She was more nervous and jittery than she had ever been in her entire
life and Snow was bearing the brunt of it.
Snow reached out and took her daughter's hands. “Emma, listen to me. Everything is
going to be fine. People do this every day. In fact, your father and I did it twice. It will be
perfect.”
“The only way it wouldn't be perfect is if Killian wasn't there waiting for me,” Emma
admitted. “I don't care about the rest.”
Snow smiled. Truth be told, Killian Jones wasn't what she had envisioned for her Emma,
but in every way that mattered, he was better. “He’ll be there, Emma,” Snow assured
her. “He's never kept you waiting before, now, has he?”
Emma thought about all those times in Neverland; those times when Killian had shown
up – just in time – to save her. And not just from physical attack. He'd kept her sane
through those months of looking for Henry. They became quite the formidable team
during that time. And they hadn't stopped since, not even during the Neal return drama.
That had been more than a year ago. Now she was getting ready to do something she
had never really imagined herself doing: getting married. To Killian Jones.
“You're right, of course, you're right,” Emma said, trying to will herself to calm down. “I
still need my necklace though. I promised him I'd wear it.”
158

“Then we'll find it,” Snow said matter of factly. “Where did you see it last?”
Emma looked around the partially destroyed cabin. “Over there,” she said, pointing. “On
the desk.”
Carefully, Emma and Snow picked over the mess, trying to find her necklace. Killian had
given it to her as an engagement gift, an anchor, to symbolize her place in his life. That
after so many centuries of drifting he'd finally found something – someone – worth
anchoring his heart to, a home. Emma hadn't worn it since, wanting to save it for their
wedding. And when she couldn't find it, it had been the last straw and her nerves had
gotten the better of her.
“Emma,” Snow said slowly, “is this it?” Her mother held up a delicate silver chain at the
end of which hung the silver anchor.
Relief washed over her. “Thank god,” Emma breathed. She let her fingers brush over it,
smiling as she did. “Could you put it on for me?” she asked Snow.
Her mother beamed at her. “Of course.”
Emma turned and pulled her hair aside. As Snow laid the chain around her daughter's
neck, Emma heard her sniff. “Mom,” she asked tentatively, “are you alright?”
Snow clasped the necklace and said hurriedly, “I'm fine, Emma.” Then she sucked in a
breath. “It's just...I always imagined how this day would be. I never expected it to be so
soon, that's all. Don't mind me.”
Emma turned and looked at her. Her mother was still sniffing and there were unshed
tears in her eyes. Emma found one of Killian's handkerchiefs and handed it to Snow.
“Honestly? I never expected this to happen...ever,” Emma told her. “I didn't think this
whole marriage thing was for me. But Killian...I can't imagine anything else.” It was a big
admission for her and Emma knew that of everyone she knew, her mother would
understand exactly what she meant.
Snow dabbed at her eyes. “I know we didn't all get off to the best start, but he's more
than proven himself. He makes you happy and that's all your father and I have ever
wanted for you, Emma. If I didn't believe that, we wouldn't be here right now.”
Emma smiled gratefully. She needed her family – her whole family – to be alright with
this. Emma pulled her mother into a hug, finally feeling for the first time that she could
actually do this. That everything was going to be alright. Snow pulled away and gave
Emma the once over. “You look beautiful, Emma.”
“My hair still okay?” Emma asked.
159

“Yes, Killian won't know what hit him,” Snow assured her. There was a knock on the
door. Emma looked over her mother's shoulder. It was David, looking very handsome in
his dark suit.
“Ready, Emma?” her father asked, smiling. “Regina says it's time.”
Emma's stomach lurched. “Um, yeah,” she said uncertainly. “I'm ready.”
Snow touched her arm. “You're going to be fine.” Her mother gave her one last
reassuring smile and turned to go, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. “So will you,”
Snow said quietly to David. So quietly Emma almost missed it.
“Nervous?” David asked, stepping further into the cabin.
“Nah,” Emma lied. “Piece of cake.”
David smiled knowingly. “It's okay to be nervous, Emma. I was. Both times.”
“What is up with that anyway?” Emma asked. “Why'd you get married twice?”
“It's a long story,” David said, grinning. “I'll tell you some other time. You've got
someone waiting for you, you know.”
“You mean he hasn't run away far as he can get?” Emma joked, picking up her small
bouquet. She hadn't wanted one, but Snow had insisted it would help. Now that she had
it in her hands, Emma knew what her mother had meant. Her hands were shaking.
“This is his ship, Emma,” David reminded her. “He couldn't leave without you.” He took
her right arm and wrapped it around his. “Come on, kid. We got this.”
Emma looked over at him, biting her lip. As always, her father was a solid calming
presence. “Okay, I'm ready.”
Together, they exited the cabin and walked carefully along the deck. Her shoes thudded
loudly over the ancient wood, echoing the beat of her heart. “Don't let me fall,” she
muttered to David.
“I've got you, Emma.” David covered her hand with his reassuringly.
They turned the corner and Emma could see it. All their closest friends and relatives
gathered around the small flower covered altar near the bow of the ship. Emma hadn't
wanted anything large and formal, just a small gathering of the people closest to her.
Gold was nowhere to be found, but Belle was there, smiling at her. Neal wasn't there
either; things between them were still strained. But Archie, Granny, all the dwarves,
Ruby and Victor, Gepetto and Pinocchio were all there, grinning. Ruby even gave
Emma the thumbs up as they passed. At the front, Snow and Henry stood beaming.
160

Finally, her eyes drifted to where Killian stood, his back to her. He was dressed in his
best pirate's garb; even though she couldn't see his face, Emma immediately felt
calmer. Killian was right there.
“See?” David whispered. “I told you.”
Emma smiled – really smiled – for the first time since that morning when she woke up.
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispered back.
David beamed at her just before they came to a stop at the altar. When they stopped,
he held her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You look beautiful,
Emma.”
David stepped to the side, revealing Killian's smiling face. “Hello, love,” he said quietly.
“You look gorgeous.” David took Emma's hand and placed it in Killian's. “Captain,”
David said, nodding. “Look after her.”
Killian tore his eyes from Emma and looked at David, very seriously. “I will.” David
nodded again and moved to stand next to Snow. Emma glanced over her shoulder at
them and smiled. They looked so happy, happy for her. Then she refocused on Killian.
He was holding her hand very tightly, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “I
was starting to think you weren't coming, love,” he whispered.
“I always come back to you, you know that,” she replied under her breath. Now that she
was here, her nerves seemed silly. They'd faced down irate pixies, Lost Boys and crazy
magic hating people together. They could do this as well.
Regina stood in front of them, a small smile on her face. Since she was still technically
the mayor, they had asked her to perform the ceremony. Henry had been thrilled. The
former Evil Queen had really changed in Neverland, as they all had. Her reform was still
a work in progress, but she was already miles away from the woman Emma had first
met when she came to Storybrooke. For Henry's sake, Emma was happy for her.
“Shall we begin?” Regina asked. Emma and Killian both nodded.
Regina's voice filled the air; her cool commanding presence lending weight to the
proceedings. It was a role Regina played well and this time, she seemed genuinely
happy to be doing something for someone else. Emma largely tuned her out though,
focusing instead on Killian's presence beside her. They kept stealing glances at each
other, their smiles getting bigger. When it was time to exchange vows, Emma handed
her bouquet to Snow and took both of Killian's in hers. She held extra tightly to the left
one; the one she had returned to him when Belle brought it to them from Gold's shop
out of the blue one day. It hadn't made a difference to her; Emma loved him even with
his hook, but she loved the look of awe on his face when she'd reattached it. He was
giving her the same look now, like she'd disappear if he blinked.
161

“Emma and Killian have written their own vows,” Regina said in a clear voice. “You can
begin whenever you're ready.”
They'd talked about this. Emma had wanted to go first, just to get it over with. She hated
public speaking and talking about what Killian meant to her in front of everyone, scared
her witless. So with Killian's encouraging nod, she began.
“When I first met you, you scared the hell out of me,” Emma said quietly. “In no time at
all, you saw right through me, knocked down every single wall I'd ever had. That's why I
left you on that beanstalk. I was afraid to let myself trust you, because I'd been hurt. But
I was wrong. No matter what happened, you kept finding me. And I can't tell you what
that meant to me, what it still means to me. When I was at my lowest point, you were
there; you came back for me. I think I fell in love with you then, but I was too stubborn
see it. Ever since you've been my rock, always there, always fighting. I love you, Killian
Jones. And I will for the rest of our lives. Together.”
Emma blinked back tears; it was over, she'd gotten through it. Killian's eyes shined with
unshed tears, but he smiled at her. She smiled back and squeeze his hands. It was his
turn.
“Emma,” Killian said, his voice low and gravely, “you were – and still are – the
stubbornest and most infuriating lass I have ever met. But that's exactly what drew me
to you. When I first saw you, it was like the sun had come up for the first time in three
hundred years. My world had been so dark, so bleak until you. After you left me on the
beanstalk, I was determined to lock my feelings for you away. But I couldn't. You called
to me, like a siren. I saw how you fought for your family, for your boy. And I wanted you
feel that way about me. We're alike, you and I. Two people looking for a home and
family. You took me into yours and I want yours to be mine. I love you, Emma. Forever.”
A tear slipped down Emma's cheek and Killian reached up gently, brushing it away. “It's
alright, lass. I've got you.”
Regina looked at them, surprisingly near tears herself. “Henry,” the Queen said, “do you
have the rings?”
“Yes!” Henry rushed over and held them out. Two matching silver bands lay in his small
palm. Killian took the smaller one and placed on Emma's finger, repeating after Regina
as he did. Emma repeated the possess with the larger, sliding the ring over Killian's ring
finger of his left hand. When she was finished, they just grinned at each other.
“By the power vested in me by Storybrooke's charter, I now pronounce you husband
and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
But Killian was too fast for the Queen. Before Regina had even stopped speaking, he
wrapped his arms around Emma and slanted his lips over hers in a desperate needy
kiss. Emma gasped against his lips not expecting it, but kissed him back with equal
162

fervor. Faintly, she could hear Leroy and some of the others whooping and cat calling,
but Emma didn't care. She had her pirate now and nothing was going to take him away
from her.
Killian pulled away reluctantly, nipping at her lips one last time before straightening up.
He wrapped her arm around his and faced their family and friends, beaming. Snow was
crying, David was grinning, Henry was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Everyone was
clapping enthusiastically. With one final glance at each other, they walked through the
crowd and off into their future.
~~~~~
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163

164

The Toast
165

The Toast
Killian tugged at the high, tight collar of his tuxedo.
He couldn’t get a deep breath with the blasted thing constricting his airway. It seemed to
grow even tighter when Swan turned and smiled at him, positively ethereal in the white
silk and lace of her wedding dress. A gauzy veil covered her hair, which she had left
hanging loose down her back in soft curls.
His wife.
He still couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream. Surely, any minute now, he’d wake to find
himself back in the hot, dark jungles of Neverland, doomed to an eternity in Pan’s
service while rage slowly ate away at his soul.
“You okay?” Emma asked softly.
He snapped to attention.
“Aye. Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed and searched his own for some sign of his thoughts. After a
moment, she leaned close and whispered, “Don’t worry. It won’t be much longer before
we can get out of here.”
The ceremony itself had been quite brief. He’d thought the whole affair over once they
exchanged rings, kissed, and made their way back down the aisle. But then a whole
new set of rituals had begun. First, they’d had to stand and meet each of their guests in
turn. Then they’d sat down to a feast where he and Emma had taken turns feeding one
another bits of cake. And now the dwarves had brought in sound equipment and started
up music, beginning what Killian could only describe as a ball, though he didn’t
recognize any of the dances.
He hung at the edge of the dance floor with Emma at his arm, waiting for the chance to
escape.
166

When the music dropped suddenly away, Killian glanced over to where Leroy was
manning the equipment and saw David standing on the stage, a drink in one hand and a
small, black device with a long cord in the other. He brought it up to his lips and cleared
his throat.
“Hey, everybody!” David’s voice boomed out of the speakers. “As the father of the bride,
I couldn’t be the best man.” He nodded at Henry. “But I wanted to make a speech
anyway.”
Emma drew in a breath. “Oh no...”
“My little girl...” David began and gestured at her with his glass.
A little bit of champagne sloshed over the side on his hand, but he didn’t appear to
notice. Killian wondered how many he’d already had — David was a lightweight at best.
“I feel like I just got you back, and already I’m giving you away. If someone had told me
three years ago that I’d be standing here today, watching you marry Hook, I’d never
have believed it. More than that, I’d have been dead set against it.”
An uneasy laugh rippled through the audience.
“But here we are.” David waved his arm and lost more champagne out of his glass.
“Killian, you make Emma happy. As her father, that’s all I need to know. But more than
that...you have proven to everyone here what kind of man you really are. A man of
honor. A man of courage. A hero. You let go of three hundred years of anger and fought
through the deepest darkness…all for her. For love.”
Killian flushed and swallowed back a protest.
David raised his arm in a toast and everyone else did too. “You have my blessing. And I
wish you a long, wonderful life together.”
Everyone took a drink followed by a round of applause.
David beamed, then hopped awkwardly down off the stage and pushed through the
crowd over to where Emma and Killian were standing.
He pulled Emma into a long, tight hug, his free hand cradling the back of her head.
Then, releasing her, he looked to Killian.
Killian froze, not sure if David was about to pull him into an embrace as well. He was
relieved when the other man settled for putting a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Take good care of my daughter,” he said with a squeeze. “And welcome to the family.”
Killian smiled. “Thank you.”
167

“Now...” David turned and offered his arm to Emma. “May I have this dance?”
As they moved out onto the dance floor, Killian watched with guarded amusement,
because Emma wasn’t the only one who had inspired him to change.
In Neverland, it had been David who had reminded him of Liam, of the honorable man
he’d once been, and who he could be again. Setting aside all of the petty indignities and
insults they had traded between them to save David’s life — against the prince’s will
and with no hope for earning anything by it — had been one of his first big steps toward
redemption. And he was loath to admit how often in the years that followed that he had
looked to Emma’s father for clues and reminders on how to be a good man, a hero
worthy of a happy ending.
Maybe someday he’d set the record straight and admit all that their friendship meant to
him.
But certainly not any time soon.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/32326
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Starlight
168

Taco Tuesdays
169

Taco Tuesdays
What happens when Killian decides to wear clothes more appropriate to the world he's
currently living in? ;) Captain Swan & Snowing one-shot, early season 6. Rated T.
They’re supposed to meet for lunch today, all of them, and Emma can’t wait for the
moment she and David can head out to Granny’s to catch up with her mom, Neal,
Henry and Killian. So far, it’s been one of the calmer days in Storybrooke, incidentally.
But even if Hyde and the Evil Queen had not played nice today, Emma knows she
would not have let them stop her from enjoying lunch with her family. After the
Underworld debacle, she’s decided to never let a quiet moment slip or anyone put a
damper on her family time.
Besides, despite the villains wreaking havoc in the never-quiet coastal city in Maine,
Emma feels better than she’s ever felt before. She has parents, a brother, the son she
never thought she’d see again, and a love all of her own. A True Love at that. It still
awes her to think of her and Killian as true loves. And every day it humbles her to see
this incredible man by her side again. And she’s grateful, so incredibly grateful, to have
him again.
And have him she does, Emma thinks with a wistful smile contemplating their activities
from the night before, and every night since they’ve been reunited. A slow blush makes
its way across her face and she leans a little closer to the monitor, hoping her dad
hadn’t been watching her right at that moment. She might be comfortable calling him
dad now, but it’s an entirely different thing to be caught daydreaming about her
boyfriend and his skill in bed, by her father.
Abandoning thoughts of Killian for the time being, Emma turns her attention to the
boring part of her job as sheriff - paperwork and updating archives. But, as boring as it
may be, apparently it keeps her mind occupied quite well, for when David calls out her
name, she raises her head in surprise.
“Time to go, Emma”, her father supplies seeing her questioning look. He’s already by
the door, ready to go, and Emma is a bit bewildered to realize she’d been so engrossed
in her work she hadn’t heard him move.
She smirks at his obvious eagerness, so she gets up and shuts down her computer. “A
bit impatient, are we?”, she can’t help but tease him.
David shrugs a bit sheepishly at her, but not willing to let her make fun of him. “You’re
one to talk, I saw you fidgeting not half an hour ago.” It’s her turn to look a bit sheepish
since she remembers just what she’d been thinking half an hour ago. With thoughts of
Killian, she’d fidgeted, alright.
“Yeah, well, let’s go”, she adds a bit gruffly, annoyed to have her thoughts brought back
to Killian with so many hours left in the day until she can go back home to her pirate.
170

One of these days, maybe she’ll do something really selfish and call in sick. That should
teach her dad to make fun of her and maybe she’ll get her fill of Killian. But who is she
kidding? She’s never going to get enough of him, but it will definitely be nice to spend
more time together.
Later, when Hyde and the Evil Queen are gone, she sighs. As much as she’d like to do
it now, she knows she won’t. Not while the two villains threaten her family and everyone
in town with their mischief and thoughts of revenge. And that’s not even taking Gold into
account.
“Come on, Emma”, David calls after her, drawing her out of her musings. “I promised
your mom I’d be there on time. She wants to talk to Dr. Hopper after lunch, so I’m to
take care of Neal for a bit.”
That certainly catches Emma’s attention. “Dr. Hopper? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah”, David jumps in to reassure her. “She just wants to talk to him a bit. After
everything that’s happened these last few weeks, she thought it would be a good idea to
talk to someone. And while we’ve talked a lot, she thought someone impartial might cast
some light on some of the things we’ve experienced.”
Emma sighs a bit. She understands where her parents are coming from; heck, maybe
it’d be good for her to talk to Dr. Hopper as well. She and Killian have talked quite a bit
about the recent events and she’s feeling better and better in her skin, but lately she’s
started to feel a bit tired of being the Saviour all the time, of always putting the greater
good first. It must be a family curse, that.
Her mom’s already there by the time they get to the diner, Neal perched up in a high
chair, mumbling happily at the tiny baby book in front of him. And as soon as he sees
them, he erupts in happy giggles and bounces up and down in his seat; or as much as
he can, at least.
She’s the first to get to him, her dad busy kissing her mom in greeting. Public displays of
affection from her parents is still something she’s not really used to, but it doesn’t faze
her anymore; she may not be overly enthusiastic at seeing her parents kissing, but
she’s happy they’re happy.
“Hey, buddy,” Emma says as she picks her baby brother up and places a huge smooch
across his cheek. Neal giggles in response, not so gently caressing - more like slapping,
actually - her cheeks with his chubby hands. She laughs in response to his antiques,
and pulls his tiny fingers in her mouth. The baby shrieks in surprise, clearly delighted to
have gotten such a reaction from his big sister, and Emma gives him a big smile. “It’s
good to see you too, buddy!”
She passes the baby to David next, taking her father’s place in embracing Snow. While
she feels closer to her father, she and Snow have been getting closer and closer lately.
Having Snow by her side when she went to the Underworld for Killian, her mom keeping
her hope up that they could do it whenever doubts had plagued her, has meant a lot to
Emma.
171

Whatever has happened in the first 28 years of her life, she’s put it where it belongs: in
the past. And thanks to Killian’s unconditional support and love, she’s gotten to this
point much faster. For the first time in her life, she feels loved and cherished, and damn
glad to be part of a family!
Smiling a bit under her breath, Emma shakes her head. She’s been so prone to
daydreaming today, she’s lucky the current resident evil doers have decided to take a
break. She only hopes it lasts throughout the day, but with her luck, she’d be happy to
make it through lunch without incident.
Greetings accomplished, they take their seats and place the orders, for Henry and
Killian too, with Ruby. Her boys have been at the docks all morning, on the Jolly Roger,
but she’s sure they’ll get here any minute and she knows what they like. They order the
same thing every time they meet for lunch at Granny’s, after all. While they wait, some
easy banter ensues between her parents. As funny as they are, she’d rather not take
sides so she concentrates on her brother, pointing to various objects in his book, while
quietly sipping on her drink.
She almost chokes on her hot chocolate the moment she sees him walk in. Her father is
not so lucky; the water he’d been drinking goes down the wrong way and he starts
coughing loudly and her mother’s eyes go wide as saucers. The only ones unaffected
by the pirate’s entrance are Neal, happily gurgling in his high-chair, and Henry, strolling
in after her boyfriend in a rush.
Killian, ever the perceptive man, notices that something is wrong and stops short a few
feet away from the table. He’s strikingly beautiful, even wearing that ridiculous red
sweatshirt and jeans, bold letters scrawled across his chest: Live Everyday Like It’s
Taco Tuesday, and Emma makes an effort to reign in her reaction to him. Oblivious,
Henry stalks over and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, mom, grandma,
grandpa!“ He turns his attention to baby Neal, then, not giving the gaping adults a
second thought.
Meanwhile, Killian looks in confusion at each of them. Taking pity on him, Emma
beckons him beside her. “We weren’t expecting you to wear anything other that a shirt
and vest”, she tries to cover for their unwelcoming reactions with a sly smirk.
Snow seems to be the first to recover from the shock of seeing him in that outfit,
because she’s quick to jump in with a rather strangled: “Yes, we’ve grown accustomed
to you wearing a more formal attire.” Her father just glowers, still coughing a bit. So she
glowers right back at him, silently telling him to not say anything rude.
It’s clear he doesn’t believe them by the way one of his eyebrows arches, but he doesn’t
press the issue. “Henry helped me pick it out. He said these sweatshirts, a ridiculous
name if you ask me, are appropriate apparel for men of this realm when accomplishing
relaxing tasks”, Killian explains, brushing a lock of hair out of his forehead.
He sits beside her and when she presses into his side and presses a short kiss to his
cheek, Emma feels his muscles thrumming in tension beneath her. She brushes her lips
closer to his ear then; “I’ll tell you later”, she promises in a whisper meant only for him.
172

Emma feels him relax against her at the words and it breaks her heart he’s still so
susceptible to fall prey to his old insecurities. She frowns a bit; she’ll talk to him later
about it because she’s not going to let him believe he’s not what she wants, regardless
of anyone’s opinion on the matter. Not that it was an issue, anyway.
The lunch progresses well after that, despite her father throwing scalding looks to her
boyfriend’s T-shirt, frowning each time he does it. Snow just ignores it altogether. It’s a
bit awkward, to be sure, but she squeezes Killian’s thigh under the table a few times in
reassurance, and it seems to do the trick, because he’s not sulking, but cautiously
watching her parents. She even throws him a wink at one moment, when he’s looking at
her, thinking about how he’ll love the explanation later on. He grins back.
By the time they finish their meal, her heart swells with love for the pirate besides her.
Henry’s been so enthusiastically telling them about his morning on the Jolly Roger and
all the various knots he’s been practicing, her heart is about to burst. She can’t help
lacing her fingers with Killian’s and squeezing his a bit, trying to keep her emotions in
check. Killian is so good with her son, she can’t help the warmth spreading through her
body. It shouldn’t surprise her, but it still does. For the umpteeth time since meeting him
in the Enchanted Forest, Emma feels grateful to have met him and that he’s been
pursuing her so stubbornly.
She’s still in a good mood by the time she gets home and sees him lounged on the
couch, engrossed in reading. The villains have behaved themselves all day and she’s
itching for a quiet night with her pirate. And maybe some pleasurable activities later on.
“Swan, you’re home”, Killian exclaims as her sees her, closing the book and moving to
stand up. There’s so much happiness on his face every time they get reunited, it makes
her heart melt. It never matters to him if it’s only been a few hours since they last saw
each other; his face lights up as if he’s looking at the sun.
“No, don’t get up, I’ll join you”, she tells him as she discards her boots and jacket.
She lounges beside him and Killian’s quick to put his arms around her and draw her in
for a kiss. Several minutes, and kisses, later, she draws a bit away from him. He’s still
wearing the ridiculous sweatshirt and she can’t help but grin.
He notices where her eyes went for a sneak peak, of course, and he raises an eyebrow
again in challenge. And since they’re alone now, she can indulge him.
“It’s a ridiculous story, actually”, Emma starts just as her fingers move across his chest
in a tender caress. “After me and mom got back from the Enchanted Forest, we decided
to have tacos for family lunch. And it just so happened to be a Tuesday on the day in
question.” She knows she’s piqued his interest because he’s watching her attentively.
“So me and Henry go out to buy ingredients for tacos and when we get back, mom and
dad are in bed, almost entirely naked, resting. I’m standing there shocked, while Henry
asks them why they’re still in bed in the middle of the day. I didn’t even know how to get
him away from there faster.”
173

Killian starts laughing cheerfully at that and she revels in the sound for a while. A few
weeks ago she had thought him lost to her forever, but now he’s here again and her
heart clenches painfully in her chest. It’s a good kind of ache. But she can’t let him have
too much fun at their expense, though. “It’s not funny; I couldn’t look them in the eye for
a week after that.” She says a bit boorishly, but she’s smiling too, although internally
she still cringes a bit at the memory.
“So this quotation of Live Everyday Like It’s Taco Tuesday…”
He’s beautiful when that mischievous smile graces his lips and there’s a teasing glint in
his eyes and Emma knows she’ll never tire of it. She nips at her lower lips and arches
an eyebrow in challenge.
“Never let it be said I’m not amenable to following sound advice”, he continues as his
left arm snakes around her waist to draw her closer and right hand grabs a lock of hair
and twirls it through his fingers. And as his lips raise up to hers, she thinks it’s a good
thing Henry is staying with Regina tonight. The way he’s looking at her now, she’s not
sure they’ll make it to the bedroom. Not yet, anyway. Heck, who cares about the
bedroom, when he kisses her like that, the couch is perfectly fine.
He wears the T-shirt to family lunches every Tuesday for the next month, but this time
he revels in drawing the most ridiculous of reactions from her parents.
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/~marajade4s
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraJade4S
174

Learning Curves
Story by @blowmiakisscolin
Artwork by @cocohook38
175

Learning Curves
The first few weeks in their own place felt somewhat surreal. The chaos of moving in
had detracted from the heavy realization for Emma that she'd officially put down roots.
Usually, that sort of sentiment would have her running scared, feet jittering, shifting
restlessly as her all-too-familiar flight instinct kicked in.
It was a subtle enough feeling that would settle into every nerve ending in her body, but
one she was acutely aware of. And for once, in fact for the first time in her life (minus
the year of fake memories), Emma felt strangely at ease with the prospect of settling.
The fact that she'd been feeling somewhat off-kilter for a few days, Emma had simply
put down to the stress of moving and the fact that it was all suddenly very real. She had
a home. Something she'd searched and wished for her entire life.
Most of their things were still in boxes, but it was already feeling very much like a home.
Granted, between them they didn't have all that many belongings, and Henry was
keeping half of his stuff at Regina's anyway. A large proportion of the boxed items were
pieces that her parents had donated to their 'cause', quietly pitying their inability to
furnish a house themselves.
Every time she passed the lines of boxes in the hallway, she sighed. Moving house,
even without much stuff, was stressful. So the churning sensation and rolling waves of
nausea? The fatigue and the sudden weird cravings for bagels and ice cream at 3am?
Yeah, she was going to put that down to the life-changing decision she'd made by
settling in Storybrooke for good. Everything could be explained away by stress, right?
She'd also tried to convince herself that the nausea could just be to do with something
she'd eaten (maybe bagels and ice cream didn't go so well together after all), or
perhaps a viral thing. But she kept hearing that skeptical voice whispering 'yeah,
that's bullshit,' at the back of her mind every time she passed it off as something other
than the glaringly obvious. She ignored it.
Days quickly turned into weeks and Emma couldn't deny that she remembered the
pattern all too well. It may have been almost fourteen years since she'd last experienced
it, but she was well aware of the unmistakable signs her body was sending her.
Thankfully, she noted, Killian was apparently none the wiser.
But when her period didn’t arrive, she knew she wasn't going to be able to just ignore it
for much longer. So she drove to the next town over to buy a pregnancy test, well aware
that the whole of Storybrooke would find out about her situation within a day if she
simply went to the local store or the hospital clinic.
176

When she arrived back home, testing kit securely hidden in her purse, she was relieved
to find that Killian was still out with her father. They'd taken Henry sailing that morning
and she was glad that she didn't have to brave a smile and cover up the anxiety twisting
in her gut as she headed straight for the bathroom.
All she could think about was getting a definitive answer to the question that had been
quietly weighing on her for a couple weeks already. She just needed to know.
--------
Laying the stick face down on the side of the bathtub, Emma chewed on her bottom lip
and began to count off the minutes in her head. Taking a long, shaky breath, fingers
knotting together anxiously, she paced the bathroom, only stopping when she'd reached
three minutes in her head.
Standing next to the bathtub, she looked down at the stick and braced herself before
picking it up with trembling fingers and turning it over to face her.
Two pink lines. Clear as day.
She was pregnant.
Staring down at it, numb with shock, a choked sob fell from her lips. With her legs
feeling like Jell-o, she tossed the stick into the trash and made sure it was covered with
paper towels, before moving to the kitchen and filling the kettle. Peppermint tea would
settle her nausea, but she highly doubted it would quell the fear and anxiety that were
now also swirling in her stomach.
They hadn’t been together all that long and they certainly hadn't approached the topic of
kids. She didn't even know if he wanted kids. Whenever he'd been around her little
brother, he'd kept his distance, quietly mumbling that his hook wasn't safe enough when
David offered to let him hold Neal. She hadn't really dwelled on it then, but the
recollection was adding to her state of anxiety now.
The idea of telling him and seeing any kind of negative reaction cross his face would
surely be her undoing. She was so terrified of losing him, after everything it had taken
for her to open up and let him in, that she could feel her vision getting hazy with tears.
She'd always insisted they were careful. He hadn't ever used a condom before, and she
remembered the first time she'd handed him one, the way he'd turned it over in his hand
and looked at her with utter bewilderment. She hadn't known whether to laugh or be
mildly concerned about that.
177

The only time they hadn't used protection was their first time. They'd been so caught up
in each other, that it hadn't even crossed her mind. A twinge of alarm had stirred in the
back of her mind as he'd collapsed on top of her, still inside her and breathing heavily,
and she'd felt the warm stickiness of him between her thighs. But the sweeping bliss of
afterglow had quickly quashed any apprehension she'd briefly felt and it didn't occur to
her again.
Until now.
The apprehension was back full force, making her heart race and her hands reach for
purchase on the kitchen counter. She recognized the tell-tale signs of a panic attack
and fumbled around blindly for a paper grocery bag, closing her eyes and breathing
deeply into it when she found one. Long moments later, her eyes fluttered open and her
heart felt less like it was being pulled out of her chest, Regina-style.
Still shaky, Emma threw the grocery bag back where she'd found it and removed the
now-boiling kettle from the stove, splashing a little hot water onto her hand as she tried
to pour it into a cup. Cursing, she fought back the tears that were threatening to spill
down her cheeks and instead moved to run her hand under cold water, wincing as she
saw the pale skin growing redder by the second.
It was at that moment that Killian and Henry barrelled through the door, laughing and
joking animatedly. Startled, Emma turned and met Killian's gaze and the smile
immediately disappeared from his face when he noticed the tears on her cheeks. He
was by her side in seconds, confusion and concern etched into the lines of his face.
"Emma, love, what happened?"
Sniffling, Emma forced a smile and tried to play it down.
"I was…I just…I got distracted when I was pouring boiled water. It's no big deal, really,"
she moved then to turn off the tap and press a wet cloth to her hand, "did you boys have
a nice time?"
Killian was still frowning and she could see the instinctive urge he had to help tend to
her injury, but she'd moved to the other side of the counter and he seemed to sense her
need to handle it on her own. So, he nodded, looking over to Henry who was also
regarding his mother with a concern-laced expression, and informed her somewhat
flatly that they'd had a great day.
--------
"Did you and Milah want kids together? Did you ever talk about that?"
178

Emma and Killian were lying together in bed that night, the same way they had done
each night since moving into the cottage, with Killian's arm around her and her head
resting on his shoulder, fingers idly tracing patterns into the hair on his chest.
She felt him tense slightly at her question and her heart stuttered. She'd been trying all
night to figure out how to broach the subject that there was, literally, a little pirate in her
now. When he'd teased her about it as they'd made dinner that evening, she'd stiffened
and excused herself with the guise of needing to use the bathroom. He'd noticed, and
had been eying her warily for the rest of the night.
"We…talked about it. She was rather adamant that it wasn't an option, and I had to
agree with her reasons. Raising a child aboard a ship, a pirate ship, wasn't the kind of
life we would have wanted to offer a child. And after leaving Bae behind…no. Children
were never in the cards for us, lass."
Biting her lip, glad that he couldn't see the plethora of emotions flashing across her face,
Emma simply nodded and pressed herself closer into his side.
"So you never wanted kids then?"
Her voice cracked and she silently cursed herself for it. He pulled back to meet her
gaze, a baffled frown on his face as he searched her eyes. She sat up and tried to
school her face into a mask of nonchalance.
"That's not what I said at all, love. Back before…when I was in the King's Navy, I hoped
to find a good woman, one just like you – beautiful, fearless and as stubborn as the sea,
with a light in her that the sun would envy. But three hundred years and a heart filled
with vengeance took away any dreams I may have harbored of a family. It's…it's not
that I didn't want children, I just gave up any hope that I could have that life."
Tears were once more spilling down Emma's cheeks and he reached over with his good
hand to brush them away, quietly questioning her with his too-blue gaze.
"Emma…please tell me what's going on? You've certainly not been yourself toni-"
"I'm pregnant."
She cut him off, a soft sob chasing her words as they fell from trembling lips. She
watched then as shock rolled over his features, eyes wide and those expressive
eyebrows of his shooting upwards as he jolted into a sitting position facing her. She felt
the tension squeezing every muscle in her body and realized she was holding her
breath then.
"You're…y-you're with child? We're going to have a child?"
179

She nodded tentatively, heart hammering painfully against her ribs. A grin broke out on
his face and he suddenly crashed his lips down to meet hers, at which she yelped in
surprise, and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her until she was breathless.
Pulling back with his hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing delicately over her
cheekbone, he gazed at her with so much love in his eyes that she was entirely sure
she could drown in it.
"You're…happy about this then?"
She smiled despite the tears in her eyes, and he chuckled as he leaned forward to
press small, quick kisses to her lips.
"Happy? You've made me the happiest man in the whole realm, Swan."
He moved his hand from her cheek to press it gently against the flat firmness of her
stomach, glancing down with a smile so bright she was sure he could power the whole
of Storybrooke for a month.
"I said it before with an entirely different meaning, but now there really is a little pirate in
you, love."
---------
Emma and Killian were sat in the waiting room at the hospital clinic, waiting anxiously
for the first prenatal check. After a few weeks of getting used to the idea and tentatively
allowing herself to feel less anxious and more positive about the whole situation (though
not quite as happy as Killian was, of course), she'd finally booked a check-up.
It hadn't occurred to her that Killian had absolutely no idea what an ultrasound was,
though she berated herself for such an oversight when she remembered his initial
reaction to a microwave. The wonder on his face as he'd watched her nuke a breakfast
burrito had reminded her of a five-year-old at Disneyland.
So, when she'd informed him of the appointment she'd made, he'd panicked, assuming
something was wrong, and she'd assured him it was all simply routine but he'd insisted
on accompanying her regardless.
They hadn't yet told her parents or Henry about the pregnancy, though she was amazed
they hadn't figured it out by themselves considering how gleeful and overly attentive
Killian was. Not to mention how he always seemed to be glancing at her belly whenever
he thought she wasn't looking, as though making sure she hadn't suddenly developed a
significant baby bump the second his back was turned. It was exasperating and
adorable at the same time.
180

Henry was suspicious, occasionally side-eyeing them with a raised eyebrow, but he'd
kept any questions he had to himself and she realized, somewhat sorrowfully, that he
wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a fully-fledged teenager, and talking about his mom
being pregnant was clearly not a subject he wished to broach of his own accord.
On the short drive over to the hospital, Killian had casually inquired as to what the
appointment involved, attempting to mask the obvious anxiety etched into his frown.
She’d explained simply that they'd first go through the boring stuff – medical history,
blood tests etc – and then there'd be a physical exam and ultrasound.
He'd nodded thoughtfully, and it wasn't until they were sat quietly in the waiting room
that he turned to her with the same troubled expression he'd worn in the car.
"Alright, what exactly is an ultrasound?"
By his resigned tone, she figured he'd been rolling the word around in his head and
trying to decipher it, attempting to break it apart to work out the meaning. Smiling
despite herself, she rolled her eyes.
"It's just a wand thing they stick on my belly that'll show the baby on a screen. It lets the
doctor see his or her heartbeat and measure their size. Then they do a few checks to
make sure everything's okay in there."
"So, we'll be able to see the baby? How is that even possible, love?"
His eyes were wide and she bit back a laugh at his disbelief. His wondrous responses to
technology that she mostly took for granted occasionally made her stop and realize just
how incredible it actually was.
She'd made a conscious effort to distance herself as much as possible during her prenatal
check-ups with Henry, terrified of becoming attached to the sound of a tiny
heartbeat, or falling in love with the squirming shadow on the screen. So, despite being
prepared for the process (granted, this time she wasn't going to be cuffed to a prison
bed throughout the examination), it still felt like she was experiencing it for the first time.
"And you're sure this is safe? The wand isn't going to hurt our baby, is it?"
His concern warmed her heart and she reached over to squeeze his hand, a soft smile
on her lips and a rush of affection touching her heart the way it always did when he said
‘our baby’.
"No, it's just passing sound waves through my belly. It won't hurt the baby at all."
181

She reassured him and he settled back into his chair until Emma's name was called.
She squeezed his hand again as they made their way into the exam room and he
squeezed back firmly.
---------
"That…that's the baby?"
Killian was stood next to the bed, his hand resting on top of Emma's by her side as he
stared, wide-eyed, at the screen on the opposite side of the bed. With a few presses of
the wand across Emma's now-slightly swollen belly, the picture went from a blurry
smudge of black and white, to the clear profile of a baby-shaped image.
Emma watched, equally as captivated, as the image moved a few times and the
distinctive thump-thump of heartbeats, fast and strong, sounded from the speakers. She
felt her heart clench and tears begin to form, shifted her gaze from the screen to meet
Killian's watery blue eyes. She hadn't been prepared for the flood of emotion that
overtook her.
"Do you feel any different this time around than you did when you were pregnant the
first time, Ms. Swan?"
The doctor who was dealing with them was called Flora – because, amazingly,
Storybrooke General had doctors who weren't Whale – and she had patiently answered
Killian's long list of questions before she'd set up the ultrasound. Fortunately, she
seemed to be aware of who he was and why he had a profound lack of modern
knowledge, and Emma couldn't help but wonder which fairytale she had emerged from.
Flora's question made Emma frown and she looked at the older woman carefully. She
was being nonchalant about it, but from the way she was repeating angles and doublechecking
the screen more times than Emma really felt should be necessary, an
unsettling wave of anxiety washed over her.
"Why? What's wrong? I've had a lot more nausea this time; I barely had any with Henry.
Is that a bad sign? Do you see something wrong with the baby?"
Emma's voice was slightly raised with alarm, her heart beating a little faster as she
peered at the screen and tried to figure out what was amiss. Flora smiled and shook her
head.
"No, there's nothing wrong, but I don't see a baby here…"
She paused and turned to face the equally bewildered couple, who wore twin
expressions of confusion and panic. She smiled and turned the screen toward them.
182

"…I see two."
Emma stared blankly at the doctor for a few moments, the room shrouded in silence as
realization descended. Two babies.
"T-two," she stammered, her vision blurring at the edges, "Are you fucking serious? I-
I'm…there's twins in there?"
Flora gave her another warm smile and nodded, and when Emma turned her gaze to
Killian, the shock she felt was reflected back at her, mixed with utter elation as their
eyes met. He was too astonished to speak, which was definitely a first.
Feeling her heart stuttering and unable to hear anything but her own labored breathing
making her dizzy, she whispered "twins…" in a choked voice before passing out.
--------
Twins.
Just as she'd been starting to adjust to the fact that there really was a tiny human
growing inside her, Emma's whole world was turned upside down again.
After passing out when the doctor had informed them that their unplanned bundle of joy
was actually plural, she had come round a few minutes later and hoarsely requested
that Flora double- and triple-check, just to make sure.
When the presence of two tiny heartbeats sounded, strong and loud, from the machine
once more, Emma let out a shaky breath and met Killian's gaze as Flora informed them
that she was about 13 weeks pregnant with fraternal twins.
"They're facing each other, and you see that membrane there? That's separating them.
They're fraternal," at Killian's questioning frown, Flora smiled and rephrased, "Nonidentical.
Mom released two eggs that have both been fertilized, as opposed to
releasing one egg that split into two."
Killian was listening intently, fascinated by it all, but Emma barely heard a word the
doctor said. It was really happening. They were having twins. And if she hadn't felt
nauseous from hormones already, then the gravity of this revelation would have done
the job.
She'd remained silent for quite a while afterwards, trying to gather her thoughts and let
the reality of their situation sink in. Numb with shock, she'd sat in the parking lot,
knuckles white with her vice grip on the steering wheel, and Killian had tried his best to
assure her it would all be okay.
183

She could tell he was holding back the happiness he felt – she could see it dancing in
his eyes – in order to allow her time to adjust to the news, and part of her had softened
at that knowledge.
When her legs had felt slightly less like Jell-o, she'd driven them home. As she parked
in the driveway, they sat in silence until she cracked.
"We need to tell Henry and my parents tonight. They already know something's going
on."
When Killian had nodded in agreement, she turned to face him fully.
"David might try to hurt you…"
At her words, Killian spluttered, indignant, and Emma tried to repress a laugh.
"I understand the fatherly instinct, Swan. I dare say I'll feel that way if we have
daughters who ever dare to bring suitors home. But you are a grown woman. And it's
not as though he can accuse me of taking your innocence."
Emma couldn't argue with that, so instead she rolled her eyes and sighed, her hand
absently drifting to touch her belly as she moved to get out of the car. The mental image
of Killian interrogating the imaginary future boyfriends of their daughters - if either or
both of the twins were even girls - put a smile on her face and she found it oddly
comforting.
--------
"I have absolutely no idea how they're gonna take this."
"Well, love, I'm hoping they take it better than you did."
Killian snickered as Emma delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs and a half-hearted glare.
Emma had called Mary Margaret and invited her and David over for dinner at the
cottage that evening. She'd then called Regina and requested both she and Henry join
them for dinner too. Surprised, Regina had accepted the invitation, but Emma couldn't
help but hear the note of suspicion in her voice.
When her parents turned up, punctual as ever with David carrying baby Neal in his
travel chair, Emma saw Killian's shoulders stiffen. He was nervous, and somehow that
managed to settle her own nerves a little. She wasn't alone in this, like she had been
with Henry.
"We'll tell them during dinner. Probably best if there's a table between you and my dad,
just in case."
184

Smirking a little, she saw the color drain from him and he shot her a bemused look
before schooling his face into a mask of nonchalance and greeting Mary Margaret and
David at the door.
As she prepared dinner with a little help from Killian, Emma could feel anxiety twisting in
her gut and she toyed with the idea of simply getting it over with right there and then,
announcing the news to them while they sat making idle conversation in the living room.
Managing to compose herself, she called for Henry to lay the table and everyone took
that as their cue to gather around for dinner. Once everyone was seated, Emma felt
Killian's hand squeeze her knee under the table and she turned to find him levelling a
reassuring gaze on her. Nodding and taking a deep breath, Emma cleared her throat.
"Um…Henry, Regina. Mom, dad…we have something we need to tell you all…"
With four sets of eyes trained on her, expectant and curious, Emma's mouth suddenly
went dry and she stumbled over her words. Mary Margaret and David looked somewhat
concerned, but Regina raised her eyebrows with impatience. She'd known Emma hadn't
simply invited her to a cozy family dinner on a whim, so the fact that they had some big
announcement to share didn't surprise her at all.
"Let me guess, your pirate proposed? And of course, you said yes."
Regina said, filling in the silence somewhat flatly and picking up her fork, about to start
eating when Emma swallowed hard and shook her head. Suddenly, Regina looked
interested.
"No. I mean, we're not engaged," she looked flustered and Killian squeezed her knee
once more, "I…I'm pregnant."
She finally managed to force the words from her lips and Regina promptly dropped her
fork in surprise, as Mary Margaret gasped and David looked absolutely floored, unable
to find words no matter how hard he tried. Henry rolled his eyes, despite the huge grin
that lit up his face. He was the only one who wasn't particularly surprised.
Mary Margaret stood up suddenly and rushed around the table to pull her daughter up
to standing and wrap her in a hug.
"Oh, Emma, that's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you both! We're so happy for you
both, aren't we, David?"
They all looked expectantly over at David, who was still struggling to form words as
numerous emotions fought for dominance. Killian was holding his breath, silently hoping
he'd proved himself enough by now to avoid a right hook to the jaw.
185

David stood up and held out his hand out across the table to Killian, who stared blankly
at it for a moment before tentatively grasping it in a firm handshake.
"You better take care of my daughter and that baby, Hook. Otherwise you'll lose this
hand too."
He warned, his tone lacking the authority he was trying for thanks to the emotions that
were overwhelming him. Killian shot a pointed glance at Emma then, but she just
quirked her eyebrow.
'I did the hard part. Now it's your turn.'
Killian clenched his jaw but nodded succinctly, understanding her unspoken order.
"I promise you I would go to the ends of the earth for your daughter, mate. But we
haven't told you all of our news just yet…"
David narrowed his eyes, his hand still firmly gripping Killian's in a hold that tightened at
those words.
"Well, come on, pirate. You're dragging this out."
Regina snapped, folding her arms and leaning back in her seat. Even Henry looked
intrigued now.
"Emma's, erm…we're having two. Two babies. Twins."
The silence that descended on the room was deafening, and Emma winced, waiting for
some kind of response, any response at all other than paralyzing shock. David looked
as though he was actually about to cry, though Emma couldn't tell if it was out of
happiness or something else. Regina smiled then and broke the silence.
"Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. I raised one, and that was challenging
enough. Good luck to the both of you."
She raised her glass and Killian shot her a watery smile, Emma levelling a bemused
glare on her when Mary Margaret suddenly laughed, giddy with the surprise and
excitement that had only just sunk in.
"Well, you have your father to thank for passing his twin gene on!"
Confused, both Emma and Killian's gazes shot to David and he finally smiled, albeit
somewhat awkwardly, loosening his grip on Killian's hand before releasing it completely.
Emma suddenly remembered Henry's book, and the story of how David had ended up
becoming royalty. He had a twin brother. She glared at her father and then at Killian,
186

amusement dancing in her eyes, and she couldn't help the short laugh that fell from her
lips.
"So when I'm the size of a house and unable to tie my own shoes, guess who I'm gonna
be blaming? Both of you!"
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/662838/blowmiakisscolin
Title art work can be purchased – www.redbubble.com/people/chookers38
187

188

Story by – captainswanluver
captainswanluver
Artwork by - duathadun
189

Code Red: The Search for Mr. Snuggles
Emma and Killian have faced many challenging situations, but nothing compares to the
search for their 4-year-old daughter's favorite stuffed animal.
...
"Emma!" Killian called his wife from the kitchen. "We've got a Code Red on our hands!
This is not a drill!"
Emma appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Oh no. Not again."
He nodded. "Aye, I'm afraid so."
"How long has he been missing?"
"Unknown."
"Where is she now?"
"In her room crying inconsolably. Bedtime was a quite a challenge," he said with a
shake of his head. "I greatly regret trading bath time with you tonight."
Emma sighed heavily. Mr. Snuggles was their 4-year-old daughter Ella's favorite stuffed
animal. It was a white bear that she received from her grandparents when she was just
a baby. She didn't go anywhere without it. And she couldn't sleep unless he was safely
within her arms.
"Where was he last time he disappeared?" Emma asked.
"I located him under the couch."
"And the time before that?"
"Behind the washing machine."
Emma nodded. "Okay, you take the couch and I'll take the washing machine. We'll meet
back here in five minutes."
They scattered and returned five minutes later, their searches fruitless.
Killian ran a hand through his hair. "Can't you just use your magic to conjure up a
replacement, love?"
190

Emma shook her head. "We tried that last time. My magic can't replicate Mr. Snuggles
exactly. She immediately noticed his ear wasn't ripped and his nose wasn't smudged."
"We must do something. Last time, she didn't stop crying for three days and she barely
slept, as did we. I'm afraid I won't survive a second go around."
Emma and Killian had faced many villains and dangerous situations, but nothing
frightened them quite like the thought of a sad, cranky, sleep-deprived preschooler.
"Mommy! Daddy!" Ella screamed from her room upstairs.
Their eyes widened and they looked at each other.
"You go," they said in unison.
"She wants you," they again said at the same time.
They sighed heavily and shook their heads, as they reluctantly climbed the stairs and
entered their daughter's room.
Ella bolted upright in bed at the sight of her parents.
"Did you find Mr. Snuggles?" she asked, her eyes red rimmed and tears staining her
cheeks.
Emma and Killian looked at each other, both waiting for the other to answer. Emma
finally nudged her husband with her elbow.
He swallowed hard. "Well, sweetheart, we've just begun searching. I am sure we will
locate him in a timely manner."
Emma stepped forward and picked up a brown stuffed dog from the foot of her bed. She
held it out to her daughter. "How about you sleep with Mr. Cuddles tonight instead?"
Ella's lips curled in disgust as if Emma had just suggested she sleep with a dead rat.
She brought her hand up and swatted Mr. Cuddles, causing him to go flying out of her
mother's hand. He landed with a soft thud against the wall and then slid to the floor.
"I WANT MR. SNUGGLES!" she screamed, her face growing beet red, as tears clouded
her blue eyes and then spilled down her cheeks.
She shook her head violently, her blonde curls flying every which way.
Killian and Emma exchanged a worried look before slowly backing out of their
daughter's room. Killian closed the door behind them and released a breath he didn't
know he'd been holding.
191

"You know, love, I just recalled I have some repairs to complete on the Jolly Roger. I
think I'll spend the night there tonight so I can get as much done as possible."
He tried to sidestep his wife, but she placed a firm hand on his chest.
"No way. You are not leaving me alone here."
Killian shook his head and gave his wife his best puppy dog face. "Swan, you know I
can't bear it when she cries. It breaks my heart."
Emma tilted her head. "You can't bear it when she interrupts your precious beauty sleep
and gets between us in bed."
"That as well," he replied with a little grin.
"We are dealing with this together. Remember our wedding vows? For better or worse?
This is the worse part."
"I thought you were referring to villains and curses."
"Those I can handle."
Killian sighed in defeat. "What do you suggest we do?"
"We need to perform a more thorough search of the house. We meet back here in one
hour."
…
One hour later, Killian and Emma returned to the same spot outside their daughter's
door. They were sweating and disheveled from their extensive search.
"No luck," Emma said in frustration.
"I left no stone unturned. That infernal stuffed animal is nowhere to be found."
"We're screwed."
"Perhaps you should conjure a replica and we can attempt to make it look more like Mr.
Snuggles this time."
Emma shrugged. "It's worth a try."
She waved her hand and a white stuffed bear appeared in it.
"Brilliant," Killian said with a smile.
192

He took the bear and headed down the hallway to their home office, as his wife trailed
behind him. Killian pulled a pair of scissors from a cup on the desk and cut at the seam
of its right ear.
"Not bad," Emma said. "What about the smudged nose?"
Killian looked around the room and spotted a candle that had recently been burned. He
walked over and touched the wick, gathering some ashes on his fingers. He rubbed his
fingertips against the nose of the bear.
Emma nodded. "That's a fairly accurate replication."
"Thank you, love."
Emma eyed the bear. "Something isn't quite right though." She paused and then her
eyes lit up. "It's too white. Mr. Snuggles is dingy."
Killian let out a frustrated breath. "Any suggestions for achieving dinginess?"
Emma shrugged. "We could kick it around the yard a bit."
A grin lit up his face. "I would like nothing more than to kick this creature."
Emma laughed as they headed downstairs and outside to the backyard. Killian dropped
the bear and then kicked it with his boot a few feet. It landed in a patch of dirt. Emma
walked over and rolled him around in the dirt a bit. She then picked up the bear and
swiped at its fur to evenly distribute the dirt.
She held the bear up to her husband. "What do you think?"
"I think it bears an uncanny resemblance," he said with a barely hidden grin at his pun.
Killian waited for Emma to laugh, but her expression remained serious.
"Come on, love. Bears an uncanny resemblance."
"I get it, Killian," she said.
"Not even a smile?"
"I'm exhausted and the thought of a sleepless night has me on edge. I'm sorry if I can't
muster the energy to react to your pun."
Killian stepped forward and placed a kiss to his wife's forehead as he linked his fingers
with hers.
"Okay, so why don't we see if we can remedy that, shall we?"
193

Emma nodded and they headed inside.
…
They stood outside their daughter's door.
"Ready?" Emma asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he said.
Emma placed her hand on the knob and began to turn it, when her husband's voice
stopped her.
"Wait!"
"What?" Emma asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"I just recalled that Mr. Snuggles had a bit of an accident yesterday."
"He did?"
Killian nodded. "Aye. Ella was coloring and she accidentally got red marker on his right
paw. She'll know it's an imposter if we don't add that in."
Emma sighed heavily and marched down the hall while Killian followed behind her. She
found a red Sharpie and handed it to Killian.
"It's all yours."
Killian eyed the paw for a moment, then made a quick slash mark across it.
"That'll do," he said with a nod.
They headed back to Ella's room and entered. She sat up again, her eyes anxiously
darting to her parents.
Emma swallowed hard. "Honey, look what Daddy and I found."
Ella's eyes brightened and she held her arms out. "Mr. Snuggles!"
Emma placed the bear in her daughter's arms. The little girl clutched it tightly to her
chest, as she placed a kiss to its head.
Killian and Emma exchanged relieved looks. Ella looked up at her parents.
"Where did you find him?" she asked.
194

Their mouths hung open for a moment before they both responded at the same time.
“Under the couch," Emma said.
"Behind the washing machine," Killian replied.
Ella's eyes narrowed at them. She held the bear out in her arms and examined it
carefully. She then sniffed it. Killian and Emma held their breath.
Ella shook her head. "He's a fake!" she screamed.
She then flung the bear, nearly taking her father's head off in the process.
She threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, as she began to
wail again. Killian and Emma quickly retreated from the room, closing the door behind
them.
"For future reference, let's make sure we get our stories straight before we attempt to
trick her," Emma said.
Killian shook his head. "This is bloody ridiculous. We've outwitted the most clever
villains in all the realms yet we can't outsmart a 4 year old."
Emma laughed. "Welcome to parenthood. It has challenges you've never seen before."
"I'm starting to miss the torture of the Underworld. I think I may have preferred being
strung up and chased by three-headed beasts."
Emma chuckled softly. "Just wait until she's a teenager. That will be a special kind of
torture."
He shook his head. "I'm quite sure that will do me in. I conquered death but I do believe
our daughter's teenage years will finally put an end to me."
"I sure hope not. I'm pretty fond of you," she said with a smile.
Emma sighed as she wrapped her arm around her husband's waist and placed her
head on his shoulder.
"Let's go to bed," she said.
"We're just going to leave her to sob all night?"
Emma shook her head. "Oh, I'm sure she'll be at our door soon and we can listen to her
wail all night long right beside us."
Killian suppressed a groan as they headed to their bedroom.
195

…
Thirty minutes later, Emma was snuggled up to her husband. Her head was resting on
his chest, as his arm was slung across her waist. They were about to drift off to sleep
when they heard a knock at the door.
Emma lifted her gaze to her husband. Killian brought his hook to his lips and said, "Shh.
Remain quiet, love. Perhaps she'll believe us to be asleep and retreat."
Emma nodded as they both stared at the door anxiously, as if a horrific monster stood
on the other side.
The knock came again, this time more forcefully. Emma and Killian were afraid to
breathe.
The knock came again, but this time it was followed by, "Mommy! Daddy! I can't sleep!
Let me in!"
Emma buried her face in her husband's chest and groaned. Killian squeezed his eyes
closed. Emma finally lifted her head and then raised her hand. She waved her hand at
the door and it swung open.
Ella came bounding in. She jumped up on the bed and wiggled her way in between her
parents, managing to pry them apart. She rested her head between their pillows.
About ten minutes passed during which Killian and Emma waited with bated breath for
Ella's sobbing to begin again.
She finally let out a little breath. "Oh yeah, I just remembered that I forgot Mr. Snuggles
at Grandma and Grandpa's today."
Emma and Killian exchanged surprised looks. Her parents had babysat Ella that
afternoon and brought her back after dinner.
"What?" Emma asked.
"I was playing with him up in your old bedroom and I forgot him there."
"And you're just recalling this now?" Killian said.
"Yup."
"After you spent hours crying about him," Emma said, as she tried to maintain a calm
tone.
"Yeah."
196

"You do realize your mother and I just tore apart this entire house looking for that bloody
bear, don't you, Ella?" Killian said, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice.
"Sorry," she said with a shrug as she batted her eyelashes at them.
She was lucky she was cute.
Emma sighed. "And you do realize your father and I went to a lot of trouble to create
that fake. We even went to the backyard and kicked it around to make it look dingy."
Ella nodded. "I know. It's not nice to try to trick people though."
"Excuse me?" Emma said.
"You both lied. It's okay. I forgive you," she said matter-of-factly.
Killian groaned. "What a relief," he muttered.
Emma nudged Ella with her elbow. "Back to your own bed."
She began to pout, as she tucked her lower lip under her teeth. "But I can't sleep
without Mr. Snuggles!"
Killian shrugged. "Perhaps you'll consider that in the future and you won't be so careless
with him. Off you go."
Ella whimpered as she crawled off the bed and slammed the door behind her. Emma
chuckled softly as she placed her head back on her husband's chest and he snaked his
arm around her waist.
"Crisis averted," she said.
"Aye, until next time," he replied.
…
The doorbell rang the next morning and Emma went to answer it. Her father stood at the
door holding Mr. Snuggles.
"Missing something?"
Emma nodded as she took the bear. "Yes, it was quite the ordeal last night. Thank you."
"Your mother discovered him while she was cleaning this morning."
Just then, Killian and Ella appeared in the foyer. Ella's eyes lit up at the sight of her
bear. She ran to her mother and pulled it from her grasp.
197

Ella squeezed the bear in her arms. "I missed you," she whispered in its torn ear.
"Ella, what do you say to Grandpa for returning Mr. Snuggles?"
"Thank you, Grandpa!"
"You're welcome, sweetie. I'll see you soon."
David left and Emma closed the door. Ella skipped off with her bear as Emma and
Killian's gazes met.
"All is right with the world again," Emma said.
"Perhaps now we can get a restful night's sleep," he said.
…
That night, Emma and Killian went into Ella's room to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.
When they entered, they found her already asleep, Mr. Snuggles tucked safely under
her arms.
They exchanged a smile as they moved to the bed. Emma placed a kiss to her cheek,
as Killian pressed one to her forehead.
"Sweet dreams, little love," he said.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," Emma said.
Killian placed his arm around his wife's shoulders as she wrapped hers around his
waist.
"Parenthood is quite challenging," he said.
"It certainly is," she agreed.
"But I wouldn't trade it for all the treasure in all the realms," Killian said.
Emma smiled, as she placed her head on her husband's shoulder. "Neither would I."
"And there isn't anyone else I'd rather do it with," he said, as he gazed down at her.
Emma smiled as she lifted her head and placed a kiss to his lips. "I couldn't agree
more."
"Let's go to bed," he said.
Emma nodded, as they made their way toward the door. The sound of their daughter's
tiny voice stopped them in their tracks before they reached the threshold.
198

"Mommy? Daddy?"
Killian and Emma slowly turned around, their breath caught in their chests.
"Yes?" Emma asked.
"Can you get me Mr. Cuddles?" she asked, pointing at the rejected dog that still lay on
the floor by the wall.
Killian arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
Ella shrugged. "I don't like Mr. Snuggles anymore. He smells weird."
Emma had to bite her tongue. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.
Killian shook his head. "Bloody hell."
He reluctantly retrieved the dog and handed it to her. Ella unceremoniously dropped Mr.
Snuggles to the floor, as she hugged Mr. Cuddles to her.
"You smell nice," she whispered in its ear.
Killian and Emma traded a look then left the room without another word to her.
Killian looked at his wife. "The lasses of this realm can be quite fickle."
Emma laughed as she linked their hands. "Well, it's been 8 years and I haven't traded
you in yet."
Killian chuckled. "And for that I am eternally grateful."
He then placed a kiss to his wife's lips as they entered their bedroom. Killian closed the
door behind them and locked it.
...THE END...
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199

200

The End, Kind of
201

The End, kind of.
The day Liam was born his eyes were as bright blue as his father's with enough jet
black hair that Emma complained the boy had nothing of her. Then he opened his
mouth, screaming his displeasure at the world and Killian had smiled, informing her that
certainly the boy had her tenacity. But he was tiny and so very breakable. Killian was
overcome with a sudden terror... What had possibly made him think he could protect
something so very breakable?
He'd thought he understood what it was like to have a child. He had Henry, and he knew
that he couldn't possibly care more for the boy if his own blood ran through his veins.
But then they brought home Liam, and suddenly his whole world turned upside down.
Everything shifted focus ever so slightly and he couldn't imagine never having that
precious child in his arms. Emma had come in one evening to the nursery as he held
the boy close and she must have seen something on his face. She sat next to him and
leaned her head on his shoulder.
"What's wrong, Killian?"
"Nothing," he told her dejectedly. "Everything is perfect."
She laughed and raised her eyebrows at him. "Then why do you look so confused?"
"It's perfect now, but I never wanted to... I never cared that Henry wasn't my blood. I still
don't."
"I know that, Killian. He knows that too-"
"But this...it feels ... different? I'm sorry Swan, truly I am. You know I'd do anything for
Henry, I'd give my life in an instant were he in danger... but this ... it feels different."
She raised her hand passing light fingers over his furrowed brow, realizing suddenly
why he had apologized. He was thinking of the ones she'd told him about. The foster
parents who had used her as a placeholder until they had their own child.
"Killian it's alright. It's different for me too." He looked up and she smiled. "Henry's my
whole world. I love him more than anything. And now Liam is my whole world too. They
each have a part of my heart all their own, just as you do." She drew her fingers down
the infant’s arm. "I think... holding a child for the first time is supposed to turn your world
upside down. Every time. It doesn't make what you felt before any less true."
The relief on his face warmed her heart.
~~~~~~
"Another story lad, are you not yet tired?"
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"No," the boy yawned and Killian laid back down on the bed, glancing over at him.
Liam's eyes were darker now, they'd shifted ever so slightly day by day from the bright
blue he'd had as an infant to a clear green that now more closely mirrored his mother's.
"One more, but you have to promise to keep your eyes closed. Can you do that?"
"Why?"
"You won't get sleepy otherwise," Killian answered.
"What if it gets scary?"
"Why would it get scary? You know I'll never let anything happen to you. Promise me
you'll keep your eyes closed and I'll tell you one more story."
"I promise," the boy said, clenching his eyes shut tightly.
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess."
"Was her name mommy?"
Killian chuckled. "No, her name was Swan. And she was the most beautiful Princess in
all the lands."
"So it was mommy?"
"Indeed, but she didn't much like being called Princess at the time. The Princess and
her mother were stolen away from their home by a magical portal and taken to a land
far far away."
"So she could have adventures?"
"She wasn't much interested in having adventures. She just wanted to get home. But to
do so she had to defeat a heartless sorceress and a dashing pirate."
"What does dashing mean?"
"Oh.. well it means... handsome and clever."
"I thought you were the pirate?"
"Blo- I am glad your mother didn't hear you say that. You'd keep her up all night with
laughing. Are you going to let me tell the story?"
Liam screwed up his nose and Killian chuckled. "The heartless Queen did some very
bad things and then she left the pirate behind; to trick the Princess and figure out her
plan. You see, the sorceress and the pirate wanted to go to the Princess' home kingdom
too"
"Why didn't they all go together?"
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"Oh, the Princess was much too clever to allow that, Liam. She wanted to protect her
Kingdom from such deviants."
"What does deviants mean?"
"Well.. not very nice people."
"Why weren't you very nice people?"
"That, my lad, is a very long story and not one for bedtime. So... when the Princess
discovered the pirate she didn't believe his made up story. She tied him to a tree and
swore that she would leave him there if he didn't tell her the truth."
"Was it love at first sight?"
Killian laughed, and leaned back against the wall closing his eyes as he continued. "Not
exactly. But the pirate realized that the Princess was very special, and that maybe he
wanted to help her. Eventually he convinced the princess that they would make a good
team, and she untied him from the tree. He led her to a giant beanstalk where they
could find a magical compass to help them get back to her home. They climbed all the
way up to the very top of the beanstalk. So high that you couldn't even see the ground
anymore from the top. At the top was a courtyard, but it was guarded by a Giant. They
had to work together to put the giant to sleep before they could search for their prize.
Once they did, they went into a room, full of every treasure you can imagine. Gold and
silver and gems... so much treasure that they had to search for the compass for a long
time. They eventually found it, but the giant had woken up. The princess had to come
up with a very clever plan to trap the giant so that he couldn't hurt them. Once she had
the compass she was able to find her way home again... all the way back here to
Storybrooke. The end. Sort of."
"I think he fell asleep while we were searching the treasure room."
Hook grinned and opened his eyes to see that his original listener was indeed fast
asleep and Emma was watching him from the doorway. He sat up and tucked the
covers in around Liam, giving him a kiss on the forehead before leaving his side. Emma
flicked off the lights as Killian wrapped his arms around her.
"You missed a few details," she commented, leaning against him.
Killian chuckled, "artistic license."
~~~~~~
The next night Killian told a high seas adventure tale.
A lone captain, with no crew outrunning a curse to return the lost Princess' memories.
He told Liam of arriving in New York and searching the busy bustling city for a woman
who he could only hope would still remember that her name was Emma Swan. With a
memory potion in his pocket and a million schemes in his head he searched until one
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day he found her name on the door marker, and her yellow vessel outside. He'd stood
outside for a long time, but finally he worked up the nerve to pound on the door.
"Alas, my Princess had no memories of our time together, no reason to think I was
telling her the truth. It was a ... painful realization." he commented glancing at Emma
with a half-smile. "Without memories of her pirate, the Princess thought he intended to
hurt her, and she had him locked up in a deep dark dungeon."
("Killian, really?")
"But somewhere... deep inside she knew that it wasn't right. Finally, she released him
from his captivity and took a leap of faith. She drank the memory potion and returned
home to her family once more...The end, somewhat."
~~~~
When Emma was in charge of bedtime stories she told a different version. She told him
of a fantastic trip through time trying to ensure a prince and princess got their happy
ending. She told him about how she found Hook playing games in a tavern, but the
moment she introduced herself he sent away all of his other companions. She spent the
whole evening there talking and laughing with the pirate, while Killian was putting into
motion their clever plan to fix the happy endings. (There was a great deal of artistic
license...)
She told Liam of a grand ball and how she'd never really understood how incredible a
ball could be until Killian taught her to dance. She told him of how the Princess cried
when she thought she'd never see her family again. But in the end, good was victorious
and they defeated the wicked curse, returning the realm to normal. She told him of how
badly she had missed her family, and that she would never, ever leave them again.
"The end, kind of."
~~~~~
It was Henry, though, who told the best bedtime stories, and Liam always looked
forward to the nights that Henry spent at their home. In the middle of the night Liam
would crawl out of bed, sneak into Henry's room and bury himself under the covers,
poking Henry with his elbow mercilessly until he woke.
"Story?" Liam asked.
"Go back to sleep, Liam," Henry muttered drowsily, rolling over.
"Please," Liam pleaded, jabbing Henry with his elbow again. "I can't sleep," he
whispered furtively, "there's an ogre under my bed."
Henry laughed, "I don't think there's an ogre under your bed. They smell really bad,
you'd know."
"Heeeenry-"
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Henry rolled back over. "You know, if our parents catch us I'll get in trouble for keeping
you up past your bedtime."
"I'll be really quiet," Liam promised, putting his finger over his lips and Henry ruffled his
little brother's hair affectionately. "Fine, fine stop poking me! One story-
Once upon a time... there was a man who thought it was awfully unfair that villains
always lose. This man, one day was given the power of a magical quill and entrusted to
record the greatest of all stories. Eventually, he could no longer resist... and he decided
that he was going to write something else. So instead of just recording the stories, he
decided to change them. He wrote a story where all the villains could win and all the
heroes would lose and he locked everyone inside his story. Everyone except one little
boy... me."
"Why didn't you get locked into the story?"
"Because sometimes adults forget how important little kids can be. I followed my family
into the story. But everything was all wrong. I tried to find Regina but she had no
memory of me. She thought she was a bandit, a thief on the run, and she didn't believe
me when I told her who I was. Grandma and Grampa were mean versions of
themselves; evil rulers of the land, so I couldn't trust them. I had to find my other mom,
your mom.
"Where was she?"
"Locked in the tallest tower in the middle of a dangerous ocean."
"So couldn't daddy just sail to her?"
"He could... if he remembered her. So I went searching for him, finally finding him where
I knew he would be, aboard the Jolly Roger."
"Did he remember you?"
"No, and what's worse he wasn't even captain of the ship. He had no idea how to sail, or
do much of anything else. but he came with me anyway. I helped him steal back his
ship and we made way for the island! When we arrived it was being guarded by a black
knight, one of the Queens guards. I pretended to be a prisoner that Killian was bringing
into the tower. We tricked the guard and locked her in a cell, and I ran to the top to
release my mom. When we got to the bottom she ran right into him. By the time I finally
managed to get them to stop staring at each other and get on the ship, the guard was
waking up! We got out to sea which might have been far enough... if the guard hadn't
actually been a dragon in disguise!"
Liam gasped appropriately and Henry put his finger over his lips to remind him to be
quiet.
"Did you fight the dragon?" Liam asked in admiration.
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"Not that dragon no... See mom had been locked in that tower for a long time. She
needed to do something fun. Can you imagine being stuck in a tower for years, Liam,
with nothing to do?
Liam shook his head.
"So we'd defeated the dragon and rescued the princess, so that's the end of the story
right?" Henry asked.
"Yes!" Liam answered excitedly.
"Oh no," Henry corrected, far from it. Because the Evil Queen and her henchmen were
still searching for us. When we made port, the queen found us! She wanted to get rid of
us all so that the author would win. She had with her right hand, the best swordsman in
all the realms as well as many other black guards! We were outnumbered with no way
of escaping. Dad couldn't remember how to use a sword and I didn't know how to use
one very well at the time myself. Even Mom had no magic, she couldn't defeat them all
alone. So do you know what your dad did? He told mom to run, to keep me and herself
safe. He fought all the king’s guards and the Queens right hand, the best sword in all
the realms. Even though he couldn't even remember how to hold a sword himself. You
see, even though he didn't remember us... he was willing to do anything to protect me
and mom. Do you know what that means?"
Liam shook his head somberly as Henry got up to take his brother back to his own
room. "That means that you never have to be afraid of what's under the bed. Because
your dad will do anything to keep you safe. So will mom, and me too. And our family...
Our family is what the monsters are afraid of."
"The end?" Liam asked as Henry tucked him into his own bed.
"No, Liam" Henry said, ruffling his hair again. "That story is never over. It just keeps
going and going, as long as there's something interesting to tell."
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5070869/gusenitsa
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209

Terrifying Your Daughter’s Date
“What are you doing?” Emma demands, entering their bedroom to find Killian
rummaging through an old box in the closet, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“Looking for something,” is all he offers in reply. Emma rolls her eyes, sliding up behind
him to peer into the box. It’s filled with things she hasn’t seen in years – old brocade
vests and that leather jacket of his, bits and pieces of his pirate days long left behind.
“And just what are you going to do with that?” she asks as his eyes light up and he pulls
out the shiny silver hook he hasn’t used in nearly ten years with a triumphant grin.
“Rose has a date tonight.”
“I know. I took her to buy a dress yesterday. What does the hook have to do with it?”
He only grins at her, clicking the hook into place on the brace she only now notices he’s
already strapped on. “You don’t honestly think I’d let the lad take our daughter out for an
evening without putting the fear of the gods into him, do you?”
“Killian,” she warns, scowling at him in spite of the smile tugging at her lips. “You really
shouldn’t. She really likes him.”
“I was thinking I could wear the coat, too. Remind the lad whose daughter it is he thinks
he’ll take down to the docks tonight,” he continues like she hasn’t spoken, fingering the
soft leather jacket
Emma laughs at that, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss
to his lips. “She’s sixteen, Killian. She’s going to kiss boys down by the docks.”
“She is going to do no such thing.”
“You’ve kissed me plenty down by the docks.”
“That is different.”
“Why?”
“Because, Swan, it just is!” She grins at him – he only calls her Swan when he’s feeling
particularly frustrated. She hasn’t been Swan in many years – the diamond on her left
hand is a reminder of that every time she looks at it.
“I’ll tell you what,” she whispers in his ear, pressing seductively closer. “You can put on
the Hook getup – the pants, the vest, the jacket – but once they leave, I get to take it
off.”
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His grip on her tightens, the curve of the hook pressing into the small of her back a
familiar feeling not quite forgotten as she leans back to take in his grin and darkening
eyes. “My love, are you trying to kill me?”
She laughs, kissing him lightly and pulling away before he can draw her in closer.
“There’s a catch – you have to be nice to Rose’s boyfriend. You can look the part of the
pirate captain – but you are going to behave like Killian.” Her eyes narrow in a playful
threat, her fingers threading into the short hair at the nape of his neck. “And if you
embarrass our daughter too much, you’re sleeping on the couch. In the leather pants.”
“Too much, as in I can embarrass her a little?” he asks hopefully, and Emma just
laughs, kissing him again.
“I think she would be surprised if you didn’t try.”
She does warn their daughter, but Rose is used to her father’s antics. She’s got
Emma’s fair looks, pale blonde hair and creamy skin, but Killian’s bright blue eyes. She
rolls them at her mother when she hears what he’s planning, huffing at the mirror as she
swipes on another coat of mascara. “Moooooom, c’mon, you can’t make him just not?”
“Let your father have his fun. He misses his little girl sometimes,” Emma soothes,
wrapping her arm around Rose’s shoulders and kissing her hair.
“It’s not my fault Henry’s got a fiancée now and makes you guys feel old,” she grumbles,
but she leans back into Emma’s embrace anyway. “You should tell Dad it’s not fair – he
never tortured Henry’s girlfriends.”
“Oh, honey, you know it doesn’t work like that.” Her daughter, with all of her fire and
Killian’s stubbornness, is already protesting when Emma chuckles and lightly runs her
fingers through Rose’s hair. “I didn’t say it was fair, but it’s how it is.”
“You’re messing up my hair.”
“Sorry.” Emma struggles to hide her smile, shoving her hand in the pocket of her jeans
and watching as Rose makes an invisible adjustment to the tumble of curls falling down
her back. “What time is he picking you up?”
“Six.”
“It’s five of.”
“I know.”
“You want me to get out, huh?”
“Kind of.”
“You look beautiful.” Emma smiles to herself as she turns for the door, leaving her
daughter to fuss over her appearance for a few more minutes.
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Killian is pacing in the living room, and for a split second, the last twenty years fall away.
He’s even put the boots on, and they thud against the wooden floors with each step. He
doesn’t see her right away, leaning in the doorway, and she watches the way the coat
sweeps out behind him, the light catching on the leather pants that fit him as well now
as they did then.
In fact, but for the fine lines and peppering of gray in his hair, her pirate is still as
devilishly handsome as he was the day she tied him to a tree – not that she would have
admitted it then.
He turns on his heel, and that’s when he sees her watching him with that look in her
eyes he’s come to know well – it usually ends pretty well for him. She can’t help a smirk
– he’s even rimmed his eyes with her blackest eyeliner.
“You’re going to terrify the poor kid.”
“Aye, that’s the idea.”
“Your daughter isn’t thrilled about this.”
He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening – Rose has been Daddy’s girl from
the moment they brought her home from the hospital. But a knock at the door ends any
possibility of him giving up this ridiculous charade, his eyes lighting up with mischief as
he turns for the door.
“Rose!” she calls, her eyes on her husband and a smile tugging at her lips. “Come save
your boyfriend from your father!”
-x-x-
If you enjoyed this story, please check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1969701/nowforruin
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/nowforruin
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“Sh….they’re asleep”
Story by @bromfieldhall
Artwork by @duathadun
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"Sh…they’re asleep."
Killian leaned against the door frame and watched as Emma bent over the bed and
adjusted the bedclothes more snugly around the sleeping child. Satisfied that he would
be warm enough, she turned her attention to the little girl that was also sleeping soundly
in a nearby cot.
A tender smile still lingering on her face, she straightened then looked up to see her
husband watching her. She raised a silencing finger to her lips as she quietly walked
towards him, her smile growing wider as she drew nearer.
“They're asleep,” she whispered unnecessarily.
Killian nodded and put his arm around her waist as they both made their way down the
stairs and into the lounge. It was the first time that their grandchildren were staying for
the whole night. They had looked after them for Henry and Sarah on many other
different occasions but as it was the couple's fifth year anniversary, Emma had insisted
that they should have some quality time to themselves to celebrate.
“Brings back memories, eh, love?” Killian observed with a wistful smile as they sat down
together on the couch. “Putting the little ones to bed like that then having to sneak out
so as not to wake them because it'd take twice as long to settle them again.”
“Yeah, then some nights they wouldn't go back to sleep at all,” his wife remembered
dryly.
“Aye. Liam wasn't so bad, but I had many a night walking the hall in effort to quieten our
little Eva when she refused to succumb to slumber,” he recalled with a chuckle. “She's
still a headstrong lass...just like her mother.”
Emma gently nudged his shoulder with her own in half-hearted objection of his claim
then commented in a reminiscent tone, “The years have certainly flown by.”
“That they have,” he agreed quietly, “And yet for all the changes time has wrought
around us, there are two things remain as they ever were.”
“And what are they?” she asked with an indulgent smile.
He reached for her hand and clasped it gently, bringing it to his lips in a lover's salute
before revealing with simple honesty, “You're still as beautiful as the day we met and I
still love you more and more each day.”
Emma blushed prettily then, as always when words failed her, she leaned towards him
and kissed him softly on the mouth. His hand came up to cup her cheek and she felt the
familiar rush of desire course through her when his tongue brushed lightly against her
lips. After all their years together, it still amazed her that the spark of passion between
them had never diminished.
“Aw, not again,” suddenly groused a young man's voice, “Don't you two ever stop?”
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They broke apart and Killian turned to see his son standing in the doorway wearing the
half pained, half embarrassed expression most teenagers sported when catching their
parents displaying any kind of affection towards each other.
“No,” he replied succinctly. Ignoring the expected eye roll, he looked at Emma again and
saw all he felt for her reflected back in the love shining bright in her eyes. A tender smile
touched his lips then he added for her ears alone, “And I never shall.”
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4493/Katrina
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/bromfieldhall
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219

Close Encounters of the University Kind
College was hard. The classes, the reading, the midterms, the papers; all of it was hard.
And for Emma Swan, who had last attended formal school twelve years ago in a prison
while pregnant, it felt especially hard. But Emma was no stranger to doing hard things.
She had raised Henry on her own, built a life for herself despite her GED and felony
record and no matter how hard college was she knew she could handle it. At least that
is what she told herself when she was drowning in tests and pulling all-nighters to finish
papers.
As Emma sat in her quiet corner of the massive library and struggled to make sense of
her Econ assignment she reminded herself that she “could do this”, over and over like a
mantra.
“I believe in you, love.” The deep and distinctly British voice startled her and her
highlighter skittered across the page leaving a green trail over the charts she had been
trying to decipher. She looked up but the owner of the voice was already disappearing
behind a shelf of large leather volumes. All she caught was his black hair, slim build and
a whiff of Hugo Boss.
Emma mentally berated herself for talking out loud. It was a bad habit that she had
developed when Henry was a baby. She had kept up a constant stream of chatter;
talking enough for two people so he wouldn’t be behind in development. One of the
reasons she came to the maritime law section was because it was always empty and
there was never anyone to hear her mutterings. She had spent all of last semester
talking to the air and the thick, lonely books. She hadn’t considered that with her change
in schedule it was possible that she would stumble on others in what she had come to
consider “her place”.
She looked down at her textbook and the jittery green trail and felt herself get a little
angry. The textbook had cost more than her phone and he had made her ruin it all
because he wanted to be funny. She gritted her teeth and returned to her book and her
assignment. A few minutes later she heard it; humming. A deep male humming coming
from somewhere behind her and occasionally accompanied by the loud rustling of
paper. She couldn’t see him to give him a death glare but she could hear him and it was
disrupting her concentration.
“Seriously. Doesn’t he know this is a library?” she muttered to herself.
She tapped her foot. She tapped her highlighter. She wished she hadn’t forgotten her
headphones. She told herself it was a public place and he was free to do what he
wanted. But she knew if he was here on Thursday she would need to find a new place
to study.
She glanced at her watch, she had 20 minutes before her next class. It was the first day
but her second Tuesday class. She decided she might as well pack up and go in case it
220

took her awhile to find the classroom. She pulled on her coat and put on her beanie
before hefting her backpack. She turned and walked toward the exit; the humming got
louder.
He was sitting at the large table near the entrance a thick black book open in front of
him. His thumb rubbed at his lower lip as he read and hummed. He had a handsome
profile with sharp cheek bones covered in scruff. This did little to ease her annoyance.
Emma was going to just walk by but as she approached he looked up and gave her a
smile. The first thing she noticed was that he was older, probably about her age, the
second was the thick chest hair peeking out of his black dress shirt, the third was that
he didn’t seem at all sorry for wrecking her study session.
She stopped on the opposite side of his table and his smile grew wider.
She held up a hand before he could attempt to speak. “This is my spot.”
His eyes widened and his eyebrow quirked but his smile stayed in place. “I was
unaware one could purchase parts of the library.”
She rolled her eyes doing her best not to let his precise diction unnerve her. “You know
what I mean.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Aye, I do.”
“I am not big on sharing and I just need to know if you are going to be here all semester
so I can find someplace else to study. I got really difficult classes and a kid at home and
I need a quiet place to study if I am going to have a chance of passing.”
Emma didn’t like the way his eyes twinkled, as if he found the entire situation delightful
and not at all confrontational like she intended. She glared at him and he dropped his
smile.
“I apologize, love. I didn’t mean to embarrass you earlier.”
“I wasn’t embarrassed,” she protested. “It’s your goddamn humming.”
“My–? Was I humming?”
“Yes. Loudly.”
A sheepish look crossed his face. “Apologies. I didn’t realize. When I get excited
sometimes I hum.”
The fact that he unconsciously hummed made Emma feel better about talking to herself.
“I promise it won’t happen again and you won’t have to find new place to study.” He
seemed so sincere that Emma found herself nodding.
“Yeah, okay.”
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His phone buzzed on the table. “I have to run.” He gave her another small smile and this
time Emma appreciated how it lit up his face. He jumped up closing his book and
gathering his things. Emma thought that was her cue to walk away but then he stopped
and stuck out his hand.
“I’m Killian.”
She took it firmly. It was rougher and warmer than she expected. “Emma.”
“Emma,” he repeated as if memorizing it then he released her hand. “I’ll see you here
on Thursday?”
She gave him a smirk. “As long as there is no humming.”
“I promise no humming. But maybe we could talk a little?”
“Okay. I’ll see you then, Killian.”
She spun on her heel and walked quickly away. As she crossed campus she tried to get
her heart under control. It had broken loose the moment Killian had started apologizing
and gone nuts when they shook hands. Emma hadn’t had a crush since she was 14 but
she was pretty sure this was how they started. With smiles and warm hands and
flutterings in the stomach. She was so distracted wondering about what it might mean
and how she had been out of the game for a long time that she got turned around on
the way to her class. She was almost late but managed to slip into the large lecture hall
just as a man in a black dress shirt turned from the whiteboard where he had written
“Professor Jones” in loopy cursive.
Emma’s heart stopped and she sunk down in her chair as Killian welcomed everyone to
Introduction to Criminology. She had practically yelled at her professor. She had
practically flirted with her professor. The first guy she had been attracted to and excited
about in years and he was her professor. She stared at the ground as he began to
explain the syllabus. She wondered if she could leave before he noticed her. It was a
big class and she was close to the back. She looked up waiting for him to turn to the
computer or the board. But instead he continued talking about what percent of their
grade the midterm was as his eyes scanned the room.
Emma knew the moment when they fell on her. He stumbled over his words and his
forehead corrugated. He looked away, down at the syllabus in his hand and then
continued. Emma flushed and did her best to keep her eyes on the syllabus for the rest
of class. If he looked her way again she didn’t see it.
Emma was the first one out the door when class was dismissed.
In between berating herself for almost getting involved with a teacher (he is in his
thirties of course he isn’t a student!) working on her readings and assignments and
taking care of Henry, Emma tried to find a way out of Professor Jones’ class. It was
impossible. She needed the class to apply for the Sociology major. Ridiculously it was
only offered in the Winter semester and there were only two sections. If she didn’t take it
222

now she would have to wait a year and that would put her a year behind in getting into
the major. Not taking the class wasn’t an option.
The other section was taught by Professor Edward Teach it was at night which is why
she hadn’t registered for it. She worked most nights. She arranged her schedule so she
was home when Henry got home from school and she went to work around his bedtime.
It wasn’t a perfect system but it worked. She was now willing to sacrifice a night of
working but the class was full and Teach wouldn’t make an exception. She had tried via
email and in person and he wouldn’t budge. By Thursday morning as her and Henry got
ready for school she was resigned to the fact that Killian Jones would be her professor
and she would just need to suppress whatever flutterings or feelings she had felt.
On Thursday Emma was halfway to the maritime law section, running on auto pilot,
before she decided not to risk seeing him there. She changed course and found a quiet
place in the folklore and myth section. She did her best to concentrate on her reading
and not to think about the class she had in an two hours. It was a little louder than her
usual spot but there was no humming and despite her nerves she managed to get
through a lot of her work. The time flew by and soon she was pulling open the door to
the lecture hall.
She took up a seat in the back of the classroom and did her best not to look at the front
while other people filed in. But she did sneak peeks of Professor Jones talking to other
students and she couldn’t help but notice that the majority of them were female. She
rolled her eyes. He was probably constantly warding off his over eager co-ed admirers
or maybe encouraging them.
She frowned at this thought. She didn’t know him but the way he had lectured the first
day about how the law was not the same as what was morally right made her think that
he might be one to flout rules, if he had the right reason. Emma shook her head,
derailing her train of thought, she didn’t want to think about him breaking the rules
because that led to thoughts of her breaking the rules with him. And while he was
undeniably attractive no man was worth jeopardizing her and Henry’s future.
The lights dimmed and the projector flickered to life as the class began.
Killian–Professor Jones–really was an excellent lecturer. He had a passion for his
subject and a way of explaining things that really spoke to Emma. It helped that his
voice was deep and British and practically demanded to be listened too. It didn’t help
that he smirked and fluttered his hand as he spoke so that Emma couldn’t look away
and sometimes she forgot to take notes. She thought he looked at her a few times, or at
least in her general area. But it was dark and she was pretty sure he didn’t know she
was there. He had probably forgotten she existed.
As the last slide flashed away Emma checked the clock, the hour had flown by and she
thought maybe this wouldn’t be so bad; she could do this for a semester. People started
to put away their things as Professor Jones reminded them of the reading assignment
over the growing noise.
223

“Thanks again for coming and I need–,” he looked down at a paper as if looking for a
name “Ms. Emma Swan to come talk to me.”
Emma froze and looked up from her bag to find his eyes fixed on her. He hadn’t
forgotten her and he knew exactly where she was sitting. He had an eyebrow raised in
an almost challenge and Emma looked away. The activity continued around her and
after a moment she finished zipping up her bag, lifted it to her shoulder, and made her
way to the front of the lecture hall.
By the time she reached him the room was practically empty. He was shuffling through
his lecture notes but looked up with a smile when she approached. Her stomach flipped.
“Ms. Swan. I was wondering what are you doing Wednesday night?”
Emma didn’t know what she had expected but a blatant date invitation was definitely not
it.
“Excuse me?” Her tone was a mix of surprise and offense.
“Are you free Wednesday nights?”
“I– I don’t think that is any of your business Professor Jones.”
His brow furrowed and Emma wondered if he had ever been rejected in his life. “Don’t
get me wrong you are very attractive and we had a moment, or whatever.” He was
smiling again but Emma plowed ahead. “But I have worked hard to get here and I am
not throwing everything away for some kind of fling with my professor.”
He raised an eyebrow and gave her an approving nod. Then he offered her a piece of
paper.
“What’s that? Some kind of sexual harassment release? In case I rejected you?”
He let out a chuckle. “You are certainly a force to be reckoned with, Em– Ms. Swan.”
Emma suppressed a smile–she liked that assessment–and took the paper.
“It’s special permission to join Professor Edward Teach’s section. It meets on
Wednesday nights, which I understand might not work for you. But I was hoping you
might prefer him as a professor.”
Emma looked up from the paper to see him scratching behind his ear. She wasn’t sure
what to make of this turn of events but she felt a flush of embarrassment.
“Oh. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I just–” she trailed off not sure how to explain why
she thought he was asking her out. Or how to explain how the idea of him wanting her
to drop his class made her feel.
“Don’t apologize. You weren’t entirely off the mark. After class on Tuesday I did some
research and talked with my department head. I can’t date a student but if you changed
to Teach’s section you wouldn’t be my student.”
224

Emma felt a rush and a tingle in her toes as she lifted her eyes from the paper and met
his. She had thought them green in the dimmer light of the library but they were
definitely an intense blue.
“Teach’s section was full. I couldn’t get in. He was pretty rude about it.” Her confession
made him grin. His lips pulling up lopsidedly.
“He owed me a few favors.”
Heat filled her face. That he had felt something, that he had wanted to pursue it and that
he had arranged it so they could do it the right way; it was a small thing but somehow it
felt big. And that big feeling excited her even as it scared her. She looked down at the
paper and back up. She had been burned before and she wasn’t ready to jump back
into the fire, especially with a man who seemed like he could consume her. But she also
didn’t want to walk away. She thought there was a middle way.
“Right. So I’ll see you on Tuesday?”
His face fell and he dropped her gaze. “Yes, of course. I understand. I’ll see you in class
Ms. Swan.” He shuffled his papers; the tips of his ears pink as he avoided looking at
her. Emma realized that despite his charm and his looks Killian Jones was just as
unsure as she was. It made it all a little easier.
“Just remember no humming,” she added and was reward by him glancing up sharply
and breaking into a broad smile.
“No humming. I promise.”
~
He did hum a little but this time it didn’t bother Emma so much.
If you enjoyed this story, check out more of my fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4338147/mryddinwilt
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/MryddinWilt/pseuds/MryddinWilt
225

226

What’s the Opposite of
Fake Dating?
Story by charmingturkeysandwich
Artwork by @flipperbrain
227

What’s the Opposite of Fake Dating?
Emma Swan did not like clichés.
So imagine her disgust when she woke up Sunday morning to realize she’d become
one. She’d gone to Vegas for a perfectly respectable purpose – a work conference –
and yet she’d ended up getting fantastically drunk, meeting a gorgeous wonderful
amazing man, having gloriously satisfying sex with him through more than half the night,
and then – idiot she was – marrying the bastard at 3 am at a drive-through chapel on
the Las Vegas strip. Yeah, she went to Nevada to hone her managerial skills and she
ended up becoming a fucking trope.
This was crazy, crazy, crazy. She did not let people in. She was not a romantic – she’d
find a guy at a bar, head to a bathroom or a bedroom or a fucking broom closet, take
what she needed, give an orgasm or two in return, and then bolt. She never, ever spent
the night. No, the last man she spent the night with had been hired to do so to keep
track of her (psychotic family members were the worst). And the only other man she’d
spent the night with had been in the back of a VW Bug and he’d left her to take the fall
for his crime the next morning, soooo.
Emma was a runner, and with good reason.
Yet here she lay, still in bed with the man she’d “gone home with” (married) the night
before, the sun rising through the thousand windows of one of many honeymoon suites
in the tropical-themed resort in the middle of the goddamn desert. She lay here, cuddled
up to the man like a needy teenager – with absolutely zero desire to run far away. No,
she wanted to stay. She craved this man’s presence like oxygen – which really is more
of a need than a craving, but that’s not the point, OK? The point is she’s lying in a
honeymoon suite, a silver band firmly wrapped around her left hand ring finger
signifying her recent wedding to a fucking stranger and instead of being disappointed in
herself or horrified or mentally calculating how much money and time it would take to
get this shit annulled, like now, she was thinking how she should probably order them
some breakfast and start the coffee before he wakes up.
Emma Swan has found herself married to a stranger in Vegas, has fallen into the plot of
a goddamn sitcom, and even worse: she’s OK with it.
~~~~~
Killian Jones is a man who knows what he wants, and goes for it. A man unwilling to
fight for what he wants deserves what he gets, after all. But he never thought this would
be what he’d fight for.
228

No, love seemed like the last thing he’d ever be wasting his energy on. The last woman
he gave his whole heart to had died with it still firmly in her grasp, so he was just going
to focus on anything else in the whole world to occupy his attention. He figured he’d be
fighting for justice or a higher position at his firm or something strong and certainly not
something purely emotional. Like he said, his heart was long buried with another.
Or he thought it was. Then he met the most wonderful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
She was objectively beautiful, of course, the kind of beautiful that made your knees
weak and your cock twitch, but through her piercing green eyes you could see into her
bloody soul and that itself held more beauty than in all the rest of the world combined.
He met her at the craps table, and he realized after five minutes it was her he wanted to
win. Not that she was a prize or loot, no – but she was the missing piece to his broken
soul and he wasn’t about to let her just flutter away like was her obvious intention. She
had walls a mile high – her projected freedom a mere tactic of flirting and not a true lack
of barriers – but he was determined to scale them.
And he did.
They drank. A lot. And the drinking was inhibition-lowering, and that was great. But what
was greater was her spirit and her stories and the delightful melody of her laugh.
When he’d thought about winning her he’d really only been hoping to earn her trust, her
respect, and absolutely win her attraction, but he truly, honestly had never meant to win
her hand in marriage. Not that night. But it was her idea because she said she loved
him so much but had such a bad habit of running and needed a reminder in the morning
of the fact that he was different and she wanted him to stay with her forever and yes
she’d been drinking but people are more honest when they’re drunk and he felt exactly
the same about her – his chest was on fire with how much he wanted her and needed
her and felt compelled to keep her safe. He loved her and not just because she had
fucked him senseless three times in his hotel room. No, because she really hadn’t
fucked him senseless – they’d absolutely 100% made love and he wanted to stay with
her forever, too, so they walked through the drive-through chapel and exchanged rings
and I love yous and went back to his hotel room and consummated the marriage
against the door and promptly cuddled up in the bed – spooning – and went to sleep.
Together. As they’d always stay.
He woke up to a knock and an empty bed which made his heart ache like the day it was
the state police that knocked on his door, but a shuffling noise to his right put his nerves
at ease. His wife was merely answering the door to retrieve the room service she’d
ordered for them because their tummies were probably rumbling from starvation at all
the physical exertion from the night before without proper nutrition to replenish them.
229

“Good morning?” she said hesitantly, like she was fully expecting him to bolt like she’d
warned him she might want to.
So he needed to put her at ease immediately. “Good morning, my love. How are you
doing this morning? Not too sore I hope. I did enjoy our adventures last night, but I
wouldn’t want my wife to be hurting.”
At that she smiled (like the sun – yeah it was a tired, worn-out cliché, but it was accurate
so bugger off), and brought the tray over to his (their) bed, her face filled with joy (but
also worry and confusion, too, because love or not, this was a weird situation).
They ate their breakfast (each one-handed as they kept one set of hands constantly
entwined), their fingers running lovingly over the skin of the other’s during their
somewhat tense discussion.
“So, you’ll move in with me?” She asked, still worried they were “moving too fast”
despite the fact that they were already legally bound in matrimony.
“Of course, love. It’ll take some time – New York to Boston isn’t terribly far, but I’ll need
to rent a Uhaul for my things and such. I’ll put in for a transfer at work right away, and if I
don’t get it, I can just quit. I’ve got savings.”
The logistic factors of all this should make it less romantic or something but really it
made it more, thinking about suddenly becoming so domestic with this woman who
made his heart soar.
But then he thought a little more about leaving their little bubble and rejoining reality –
and all the people who wouldn’t believe they could possibly know already that they were
in love.
“What’ll we do about telling people, Emma?” he asked in a quiet voice. He didn’t want to
make her feel ashamed because he absolutely wasn’t. But you couldn’t stop the
opinions of other people. And he knew they’d be harsh.
“I don’t have a lot of family. My adoptive parents and one non-crazy aunt. My little
brother. If I called them and told them right now they’d be absolutely certain I was
joking. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I don’t date. I’ve been quite… prickly on the idea
of love for really all of my life.”
Killian had a small family, too, just his brother Liam and Liam’s wife Elsa. But, like
Emma, he’d been closed off for quite some time. They wouldn’t believe he’d done
something so rash, nor would they believe it was genuine.
(And how could you blame them – it really was crazy when viewed from the
outside.)“There’s one way we could do this, Killian, to make it more normal for our
230

families and for work people and stuff. Because, yeah, no one’s going to accept this.”
She looked flustered and sad so he kissed her, pulling back before it could blossom into
anything more heated. This discussion was important to their future, and a future was all
he wanted with her, so he’d keep his hormones in check (newlywed or not).
She hated that faking it was the only option. She loved her family and they loved her
(and same for Killian’s as well), but no one was going to get it. And Killian and Emma
couldn’t stand the idea of lectures or fighting or whatever might come when people
didn’t understand how they could possibly know so fast.
So they decided (well she decided, as was usually they case, but he was a gentleman
and pretended it was a joint effort) to fake the slow burn, to make it “believable.”
In one way, it was sort of like a game. They could make it fun! It’s not like they lived with
their families or friends – they’d have plenty of moments they could just be themselves.
So the faking it parts of life could be like their own little inside joke.
But Emma quickly didn’t think it was very funny. “Killian, I don’t want to take our rings
off. Can’t we just… I don’t know, say they’re religious or something?”
“You think it’s more believable that we both separately came back from Vegas having
found God than having found one another? I’m not a non-believer, love, but I’ve never
been the organized kind. I really doubt they’d buy it.”
“But I like our rings. I like that I belong with you. And I don’t want to have to take it off!”
Emma was whining. She knew it was a necessity. But that little band made her smile a
hundred times a day and she didn’t want to make that sacrifice.
“Put it on a necklace, maybe? And wear it under your shirts? Though with your plunging
necklines that won’t quite work.” Killian was being serious but also flirty, which was just
fine by Emma – so she stepped into his space and moved his hand up to her breast.
“Only for you, darling,” she joked before he dipped her low and kissed her until she was
dizzy.
Later that night, she removed the ring (fighting back tears because apparently now she
was a sap), and placed it in her jewelry box on the dresser she’d just half emptied to
make room for Killian’s clothes.
(She was never so happy to be giving up her space.)
The day he moved in officially – the Uhaul parked outside and all – she mentioned a
new neighbor to her mother.
“He’s kind of an ass,” Emma said with a secret smirk. “Thinks he’s God’s gift and all.”
231

“Come on, Emma, if he’s going to live close you’d better at least be nice. Give the man
a chance before you suggest he’s the devil.” Mary Margaret, Emma’s adoptive mother,
was quite the optimist. She wasn’t one to push Emma toward romantic interests, but
she did plead with her to just make friends sometimes. Mary still felt guilty for Emma’s
time in the system, for the troubles she had for so many years before her adoption, but
she always encouraged her to look past the people who’d hurt her before and to look
forward to the things to come (she’d never believe Emma had finally taken her advice –
to the extreme).
“I’ll be nice, mother. I’m just saying. I’ll, I don’t know, bake him a pie or something.”
She dropped his name in conversation many times, just talking about casual encounters
on the street and such – secretly smiling about the fact she was usually sitting on
Killian’s lap for these phone conversations. Sometimes he’d kiss her neck or tickle that
spot by her hip bone to try to get her to giggle, but usually he’d just listen patiently and
wait for his turn to drop hints on the phone with his brother.
The trouble started when Liam wanted to come visit Killian’s new place. Because Killian
didn’t have a new place (of his own). And Emma wasn’t about to remove any trace of
her existence from the house just to keep up the charade. So instead, Killian invited
Liam to a picnic at “his neighbor’s place,” hoping that Liam would just have fun at
Emma’s and not actually request a closer look at Killian’s place.
It was sort of a ridiculous hope on Killian’s part. Emma warned him it would blow up in
their faces, but Killian insisted – he was going to say his place was getting fumigated so
they had to stay out.
The picnic was a great idea, though, for getting their families to meet each other. And at
first it was going fantastically. Other neighbors came, so it didn’t seem suspicious that
Killian and his brother were present. And Emma’s adoptive father was really loving the
Jones boys.
Until the elder Jones asked Killian to at least point out his new house. So Killian picked
a house at random, just a standard blue house with yellow shutters several houses
away from Emma’s. It wasn’t three minutes later when a family exited its doors. Emma
saw and made sure to distract Liam, but it was a pathetic attempt and Liam started to
suspect something – not the truth, but something nonetheless.
They were in the clear on the house debacle, but then there was the problem of
Emma’s phone. It was full of pictures of her and Killian – unpacking the house, going
out to dinner, even their escapades in Vegas were documented in her camera roll. And
her favorite photo – their wedding selfie – was the background on her phone.
232

“Emma, is that a picture of you and Killian on your phone? I didn’t know you guys even
hung out that much,” Emma’s adoptive brother August observed, obviously not seeing
the photo clearly enough to make out the rings they were showing off in it.
“Oh, um, yeah. We ran into each other last weekend and I lost a bet. I have to keep his
picture as my background for two weeks.” Emma was a pretty good liar, but even to her
the story sounded shaky at best.
“You like him, don’t you, sis?” August teased. “I’ve seen you look at him. Why don’t you
just go for it, anyway? He’s probably not that bad.”
Well, at least they’d made a good impression on her brother.
After the day of the picnic there were a hundred more little slip-ups (their plan was
ridiculous and doomed to fail, so it wasn’t surprising in the least).
Emma picked up Killian’s ringing phone one day thinking it was hers (damn iPhones for
all looking the same). Liam was confused, but Emma claimed they were at a town
meeting. (Did town meetings exist anywhere but Stars fucking Hollow?)
Killian accidentally slipped and told an entire story to Elsa in we format instead of I.
“Who else was with you, Killy? Got a girlfriend you didn’t tell us about yet?” So he
slipped in that he and Emma had gone, just as friends, but Elsa wasn’t sold and maybe
that meant the plan was working? Emma really wasn’t sure. How slow was a realistic
“slow burn,” anyway? Maybe they could be dating now and it would be OK.
So they told their families they were casually seeing each other, nothing serious, of
course. But it certainly didn’t seem not-serious when Mary Margaret noticed that Emma
signed her last name as Jones “accidentally” at the restaurant when she was paying for
dinner (because it had been legally changed, after all).
“Are you seriously thinking about marrying him already, Emma? That’s so unlike you!”
“Uhhh, no. I mean, I could? I don’t know. Would it be so bad, mom?”
“Of course not, sweetheart! Whatever makes you happy.”
“Well, he makes me happy.”
~~~~
Killian was the worst liar ever. He wanted nothing more than to gush about his
wonderful life with his wonderful wife, but no he had to pretend she was just some lady
from down the street that he was sort of annoyed by.
233

Yeah, they’d opted to start the slow burn with not even liking each other because sadly
that seemed in character for them (idiots, Emma had said; but it led us to each other, he
countered). It was so hard. Not because he couldn’t complain about Emma genuinely.
Ohhhh, how he could. She was messier than he was used to. She was pretty bossy at
times. She hogged the covers and often used all the hot water, too, though as her
barely-familiar neighbor he couldn’t exactly bring up those issues.
But he loved her. More and more every single day.
Which is why he slipped and talked about her. A lot. And had to back pedal about why
they were in the same place. Liam asked him once if he was stalking the poor girl, since
he’d mentioned “running into her” at the movies, the grocery store, and the park all in
one week’s time.
It wasn’t long after that Emma suggested they “start dating.” Which gave him too much
freedom to drop her name in conversation, to mention things that had occurred in Las
Vegas before they’d fucking known each other, so he’d have to back pedal again and
say it happened one night in Boston but there were too many this one night stories that
really didn’t make much sense.
And then there was the day Liam showed up to “his house” and no one was home. And
Liam called Killian, who said he said he was sitting in his living room. So Liam literally
walked up to that stranger’s house and peered in the living room to find it extremely
empty.
“Brother, you’re lying to me and I don’t understand why. You’re not doing drugs or
something, are you? Did you join the CIA and not tell me about it?” Liam was being
lighthearted and still quite firm all at once.
“I, uh, have something I’ll have to tell you. Eventually. But now is not the time.” Emma
wasn’t home yet and he wasn’t about to blow their cover before he consulted her. They
were a team. They made decisions together (even when he let her think she made them
herself).
She got home a few hours later, exhausted from work. She slumped down on the couch
immediately and he felt guilty for the weight he was about to add to her life.
“We’re going to have to move this along a little faster. It’s been long enough that it’s
appropriate for us to move in together, right?” He knew how ridiculous the question was,
because seriously they were already married. They’d been married for three months
now.
“It’s not time yet, Killian,” Emma groaned, her face smashed into a pillow. “There’s no
way you or I would just move in with someone after only three months.”
234

“But we did, Emma! We would because we did and seriously. Lying is exhausting. I just
want to be with you.”
“You are with me. Please. Just give it time.”
They were idiots. Any fool could see they loved each other. A stranger off the street
would see the electricity between the two of them – so of course their families would
see it, too. Mary Margaret had heard a little something warmer than usual in her
daughter’s voice when she’d first spoken of Killian, but it wasn’t until she saw them
“casually” talking that she knew. It was love.
She’d asked Liam about it, too – at the picnic Emma had. Maybe there was a spark but
some reason they couldn’t be together. Was Killian taken? Did he have walls as high as
her daughter’s? It turned out he did, but Liam saw he was smitten.
So Mary Margaret set out on a quest – she was going to get them together.
Until she realized they already were. Silly, silly idiots. It was August’s fault, really. He’d
seen the picture of Killian on Emma’s phone at the picnic, so a few weeks later he
hacked into her iCloud account to see the rest of the photos in her phone. And 90% of
them were of Killian. Including some at their wedding.
Mary Margaret was highly offended at first, of course. She’d missed her daughter
getting married. She’d never get that experience back! But then she was sad for a
whole different reason: Emma had thought that her family wouldn’t accept her
unconventional love story, and was therefore hiding it. Her daughter had been a lost girl
for much of her young life, Mary Margaret knew that, but it was so hard to accept. She’d
given her love and a home and had dedicated her life to making Emma (and August)
feel supported and like family – but Emma would always have some doubt.
Well, no longer.
She felt bad about it (kind of), but Mary Margaret asked August to hack into Emma’s
contacts so she could call Liam. Those crazy kids needed an intervention.
~~~
He knew it. His brother had fallen fast and hard for that neighbor of his.
Well. Now he knew she wasn’t his neighbor at all, but his “roommate.”
Yeah, Liam had done a little more snooping when Killian hadn’t been “home” for his
surprise visit. And guess whose living room he was in? Emma Swan’s.
235

Except he got a call later that afternoon from Mary Margaret Nolan, Emma’s mother,
which revealed that Emma Swan had become Emma Jones months ago.
Those assholes had gone and gotten married without them.
Of course he realized the timeline was a little more complicated than that – it seems the
wedding part had come before the dating, but he couldn’t believe his brother would think
he would judge them for it. After all, Liam had told Killian that he’d known Elsa was the
one for him the second Elsa had offered her hand when he slipped on a patch of ice. If
there had been a wedding chapel next to Bentley Hall, he’d probably have married her
that first day, too, despite their being only sophomores in college.
Mary Margaret had suggested an intervention, but Liam had been more excited for a
Friends-style game of making them admit it themselves – “they don’t know we know
they know we know.” But Mary Margaret had won in that argument. Only because she
was right about one thing: their loved ones hadn’t trusted them to be happy for them.
And that meant there was no room for joking.
~~~~~~
They were three and a half months in when Mary Margaret suggested a little “family
dinner.” Emma insisted it be at her house rather than Killian’s (still desperate to maintain
that their houses weren’t one in the same). She made Killian hide all of his things in
their bedroom or the attic, and had him “arrive” after her parents and August were
already there. Liam and Elsa showed up not long after Killian, bringing along some
delicious desserts and wine.
Emma was just finishing up setting the table when Mary Margaret asked that they all
take a seat.
“We need to talk,” she started.
“I’ve found when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation,” Killian
responded with a nervous chuckle. Emma’s stomach dropped, worried that her mom
might be telling her she shouldn’t be with Killian, that they weren’t good together, that he
wasn’t a good guy (or worse that she wasn’t good for him). Unconsciously Emma
moved to sit on Killian’s lap, wrapping one arm around his waist while the other reached
for his hand to lace together their fingers.
Her mother’s next words shocked her. “Where did you put your rings, Emma?”
Rings?
236

Then Liam spoke up. “August showed us the wedding pictures, guys. Emma, you really
should have a more secure password on your iCloud. Also, you guys are so obvious it’s
painful.”
Emma’s eyes were so wide they probably looked like they were popping out of her head
and she squeezed Killian and started shaking and struggled to figure out what was
going on because none of this made sense.
“Liam!” Mary Margaret chided. “We were going to do this nicely, remember?”
Emma felt like she should probably be defending herself from something or she should
be mad or at least annoyed because there was definitely some kind of privacy invasion
going on, but also her mother had been conspiring with Killian’s brother?
“I don’t understand,” Emma finally managed to whisper.
“I’m guessing they’re onto us, love,” Killian said, brushing her cheek with his lips.
Shit. Though they didn’t seem angry with them. No, everyone seemed kind of… sad.
“Are you disappointed in me?” Despite her best effort to sound strong and sure, Emma’s
voice came out small and scared and so very fragile.
“Never!” Her father finally shouted. “We wish you both hadn’t have lied, though. And,
honestly, it looked like you probably needed some help down that ‘aisle’ of yours. I’d
have been happy to escort you, sweetheart, whether it was down a church hall or on the
beach or even down a drive-through in Vegas. Anything. We just want you to be happy.”
Emma’s first instinct was to be ashamed, but then she realized a funny thing. No one
fucking cared. Even her dad wasn’t mad at her for getting drunk and married in Vegas.
Well, she shouldn’t say no one cared – in fact, they did care. But they weren’t judging.
So what was the point in faking it?
God, they were such idiots.
~~~~~~
Killian turned a shade of purple when he realized the purpose of their visit. They knew.
He and Emma had slipped up one to many times and somehow their families put it
together and also somehow talked to each other because Liam had winked at August
and to his knowledge the two had never spoken just the two of them ever and it was a
little too conspiratorial to have been by accident.
No, they knew they were brothers-in-law-in-law or however that worked when you were
the brothers of the married couple.
237

Once Emma realized what was going on, things got very tense. For a second he wasn’t
sure if World War III was about to break out or if his wife was about to collapse crying,
but then all of a sudden her beautiful laughter started ringing out throughout their very
clean home. She was shaking in his lap, absolutely losing it in giggles and gasps.
Whether out of contagion or awkwardness, the rest of the little dinner party started
laughing, too, and five minutes later they were all clutching their bellies because they’d
laughed so hard their abs hurt.
Finally, his lovely wife spoke. “Yeah, so I got drunk and married a guy in Vegas! And
then tried to pass him off as a new neighbor. I’m totally getting a daughter-of-the-year
award, right?”
“You owe me a dance,” is all her father said in return.
~~~~~~
The whole family flew back out to Vegas a month or so after the little intervention.
Emma wore a lacy white dress and Killian put on a shiny red vest and they declared
their love in front of witnesses who were neither drunk nor paid to be there. Afterward
they went back to their hotel and danced the night away at the club – Emma and Killian
regaling the crowd with their own little dance to Chris Brown’s “Forever.” Emma danced
with her dad and Killian danced with Mary Margaret and at some point when everyone
was too drunk to stop her, Emma picked some flowers next to the street and flung them
behind her – a very drunk Spring Breaker behind them catching the “bouquet.”
“Better find yourself a stranger to marry,” Emma said to the girl, swaying a bit into
Killian’s side. “That’s how I got my happily ever after!”
At that, Killian swooped his arm beneath her to pick her up bridal-style, carrying her to
their room where they promptly passed out, content in each other’s arms.
Emma Jones had become a cliché. And she didn’t give a flying fuck. Because she was
happy.
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
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238

239

First Impressions
Co-Star AU. Emma Swan is the star of the hottest show on TV, The Analyser. She's
professional, polished, poised... But there is something about that damn Killian Jones
that gets right under her skin. (Title shamelessly borrowed from Jane Austen)
Tired and aching after another long night shooting on the cold New York streets, Emma
Swan was ready for a hot bath and a warm bed. Friday night shooting always wiped her
out. It was always the same when a script required long scenes at night outdoors. But
she couldn't complain; she loved her job. The Analyser was the number one rated show
on Wednesday nights and even now in its fourth season it showed no signs of stopping.
Wearily, she locked her door and kicked off her flats. She was just about to head for the
bathroom when the ping of an incoming message made her take out her phone. She
smiled in anticipation when she saw the sender - it was from Jerome, the program's
creator and head writer - and the contents: the script for the next episode.
Undressing and filling the bath was expedited by her excitement to see what was going
to happen. Her character, Delilah St Clair, was currently tracking down the kidnappers
of a rich billionaire's son and even she didn't know how this plot arc was going to turn
out.
She sank into the tub with a deep sigh and pulled up the script on her iPad.
It was an action packed episode from the start. Car chases, shoot outs…
"What the fuck?" she screeched as she reached the final act. "No way!"
She was going to have to kiss Killian Jones.
/
He'd been cocky and arrogant from the first moment he swaggered onto the set last
season. Originally a guest star for a few episodes, his character was to be somewhat of
a nemesis to Delilah - James Hook, genius computer analyst, reckless, womanizer.
From the start, it had been a working relationship fraught with conflict. He had taken her
parking spot in the company lot (‘it's not marked reserved, darling’), before immediately
working on charming the rest of the cast with his damn British accent and stupid
innuendos (which she’d loathed, of course). He'd tried to worm his way into her good
books those first few weeks, being overly nice and offering to get her lunch from craft
services every day - but she saw through that act straight way.
Yeah he was handsome, with cliched good looks and ridiculously blue eyes. Sure he
was popular with everyone (cast and crew). And, yes, he wore nice cologne…
240

But Emma Swan knew his type, she'd been in the business long enough, and she knew
it was only a matter of time before he changed and showed his true colours.
And then, then, he'd gone and been made a regular.
To be fair, the audience loved him. Every time he was on screen the show's twitter
account would explode with messages. Fawning women would wait outside the gates of
the studio almost every day desperate for a glimpse of the object of their affections. And
of course, the media just loved him.
So Emma had huffed and pouted when he was promoted by Jerome, and then whined
and complained even more when it was decided that the character should have a
change of heart and start working for the 'good guys' - Emma's team of investigators
who worked just outside the law.
Killian, predictably, had tried to use his ‘charm’ to win her over. The pink roses in her
trailer weren't so bad, but his insistence on leaving cups of her favorite cocoa with
cinnamon by her chair was bordering on stalkerish. And then there was the PaleyFest
panel where he had purposefully embarrassed her by responding to a question about
his favorite person to work with - 'Why, Ms. Emma Swan, of course, our beautiful and
talented lead.'
Talk about sucking up.
But. she had steadfastly resisted all attempts by him to build some kind of relationship.
She'd had him worked out the moment she met him. He was trouble.
And that was the last thing she needed.
/
"I'm sorry Emma, but there's nothing I can do."
Emma scowled over her omelet. Breakfast was the only chance she had to Skype
Jerome and share her displeasure with the script.
"Jerome - you can't seriously be telling me that you think a romance between Delilah
and Hook is a good idea, they practically hate each other!"
"It's a great idea Emma! The chemistry between you two is off the charts - do you know
how much attention you guys get online? The viewers love you together."
"And since when did you let viewers tell you what to write?"
Jerome grinned, "I don't. To be honest, this is something I was planning for a while. It's
perfect - the reformed scoundrel and the uptight, serious profiler: this plot is going to be
a goldmine. It's really going to get people talking and create some buzz in time for
sweeps."
"So there's no talking you out of it?"
241

Fixing her with a stare, he simply replied, "Trust me."
And with that, Jerome ended the call.
Well she didn't trust him. In fact, she was worried. Her character didn't have 'love'
interests. They'd tried that with a character called Neal in season one, only to have him
turn on her and almost get her killed in the season finale. Since then, Delilah had been
single and happy. Just like she was.
Emma liked the fact that she was playing an independent, strong woman who was
successful and relied on no one.
Indeed, she herself understood the importance of focus in her job. Working hard on her
character, spending hours in the gym to keep in shape. She didn't socialize with the
other actors very much. She liked to keep work and her private life separate. Just like
Delilah St Clair.
/
"Swan?" The corresponding knock at the door made her start. She'd been staring at her
script, trying to memorize her lines.
"Jones," she sighed, wondering what he was bothering her with now.
"I was passing by and thought I would come and see how the preparation was going."
He stood in the doorway, flashing her that stupid megawatt smile that she hated.
"Preparation?" she asked, frowning in confusion as she set her script aside.
He took a few steps forward, his signature swagger evident, his eyebrows raising as he
replied, "For the big scene, lass. I know it may be intimidating, but I promise, I don't
bite."
Emma rolled her eyes, wishing she had something nearby to throw at him other than a
cup of cocoa. "Well I do, so watch out."
"Ooh, feisty today aren't we. Well, if you do want to rehearse, you know where I am…"
he replied, nodding in the direction of his trailer (which was annoyingly right next to
hers). He pulled his fingers through his annoyingly good hair (seriously, it was so unfair)
as he ran a suggestive tongue along his lips.
Emma narrowed her eyes, "I think I'll manage. Now don't you have some groupies to go
hang out with, or at least someone else to annoy?"
Smirking, he winked and left.
God, he was so frustrating.
/
242

Another Friday night 'Fraturday' shoot. It was the 7th and final day of filming for the
midseason finale. (And the episode of the kiss…)
Standing on a street corner in midtown and still shivering despite the thick down jacket
around her, Emma waited for the scene to be set up.
James Hook had just saved Delilah from a bullet, pushing her out of the way just in time
for it to graze his arm. The next scene to shoot was her thanking him. And the kiss.
She was shaking a little, but that was from the cold. It wasn't like she was worried. She
was professional, she'd done this many, many times-
"Ms. Swan, they're ready for you."
The young assistant smiled brightly (too bright for 1am) and ushered her in the direction
of the set. Killian was already there, his arm bandaged to show where the 'bullet' had
grazed it, a scratch on his cheek, his hair all mussed up-
Shit, he looked good.
Swallowing hard, Emma fixed her lips in a thin smile.
"Jones," she nodded.
He turned on a bright grin as she approached, "Swan, ready? All rested up?"
She gave him a grim smile. "Just looking forward to wrapping and getting home," she
grumbled as the assistant removed her coat.
Killian took a step closer to her, and lowered his voice, "Don't be nervous, love.
Remember what they say in acting school, just imagine you're kissing someone you
actually like."
"Is that what you do?" she quipped, tucking her hands under her armpits to keep some
body heat.
"Usually, but I doubt that will be a problem tonight, love."
"Wha-" she was just about to finish when the director called everyone to their places
and the run through of the scene began.
/
It had been a simple enough rehearsal; the dialogue was brief so it was mostly for
blocking purposes. They hadn't had to kiss, 'save it for the camera's' Mike the director
had said. Now she waited just out of shot for the call.
Across the street, Killian smiled, raising his brows at her and then tapping his lips.
God, he was insufferable.
"Action!"
243

She walked onto the scene, her heels clipping on the asphalt. Killian stood, phone at his
ear before tucking it in his pocket as she approached.
"Well, St Clair, how are the bruises?"
"I'll survive," she nodded, "How's the arm?"
"Nothing but a flesh wound." He took a step closer just as the wind picked up and the
scent of his cologne hit her full force. It was very inviting.
She took a breath and composed herself. "Look, I just wanted to thank you. For pushing
me out of the way."
"And taking a bullet for you…"
"Please, flesh wound, you already said."
Killian grinned. "Aye love, so I did. But really, is that all your life is worth to you?" He
raised his brows in a way that was a bit too Killian and not quite Hook.
"I already said thank you."
He took another step until there were mere inches between them, running his tongue
along his lip in a way that was all too familiar, pursing his mouth seductively.
"Please, you couldn't handle it," she recited, feeling her heart rate spike in anticipation.
"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it?"
The script then required her to stare in his eyes for a few seconds. That was all too
easy, quickly losing herself in their unfair blue as her breathing hitched and she reached
for the collar of his shirt-
Their lips met and she went for it.
Delilah was supposed to be the aggressor here. It was implied in the script that she had
long held feelings for Hook, so she needed to play this moment perfectly.
Their kiss was mingled with heavy breaths and grasping fingers. They hadn't exactly
discussed how they should do this - beyond her order to 'suck on a mint' - but it didn't
seem to matter. Her fingers slid into his hair, he cupped her face with his palm, their
bodies were flush against one another-
Oh God, she was enjoying it. She liked it! Kissing him was… easy. Exhilarating.
Exciting. Everything she had believed it wouldn't be.
"Cut!"
The director's call pulled her out of the moment and she stumbled backwards,
practically pushing him away. He was breathing heavily too, but she couldn't look him in
244

the eye, preferring to pretend to focus on fixing her hair (where his hands had been just
seconds before).
"Reset!"
At the next command, she began walking back to her starting point, bringing her
breathing under control, ignoring Killian's brief cry of, “Swan”.
/
Five takes.
Five goddamn takes.
Each one harder than the next. Every kiss becoming more intoxicating as they learned
each other's mouths and bodies.
She was normally really good at this. Always the professional. Never one to let reality
and fiction blur…
Goddamn it, she thought as she stalked back to her trailer.
Slamming the door behind her, she started making a cup of cocoa. That always calmed
her down.
She was just debating the merits of begging Jerome to kill off Killian's character when
there was a knock at her door.
"Swan?"
Damn, what the hell was he doing here?
She stomped over, yanking open the door to see an annoyingly dashing looking Jones
standing at the bottom of the steps.
"Can I come in?"
"Is it important?" she snapped.
"Aye," he nodded, his expression so ridiculously earnest that she simply turned on her
heel and headed back inside.
"I'll take that as a yes," he called behind her.
Stirring her cocoa, she heard him enter and stand behind her. She took a few sips,
calming herself. It's just Jones, same old annoying, stupid Jones.
She turned and he was smiling shyly (yes shyly). Immediately she put up her defences
and adopted a nonchalant pose. "And?" she snipped.
"Swan - Emma - I think we need to talk."
245

"Oh, do we?"
He nodded, "Yes, about that kiss-"
Emma froze, cup midway to her mouth.
"That was more than acting."
She scoffed, "Please-"
"Emma-"
He was back on her lips in a heartbeat, his hands at her waist, kissing her like his life
depended on it. The cup dropped to the floor, landing with a dull thud as the contents
slid over the carpet. Like before but more: more passion, more feeling, more real.
And that was where she understood why ladies in old movies talked about swooning.
She was struggling to breathe, her heart was racing, her hands wrapped in the lapel of
his jacket, all her reservations dissolving-
He suddenly stopped, pressing his forehead against her. "That wasn't acting, love."
Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to collect herself.
"I've wanted to do that for so bloody long."
"You have?" she asked in a whisper, her mind still trying to catch up with what was
happening.
"Yes!" he cried, pulling back so he could look into her eyes, "Don't you know how hard
I've been trying to get your attention? You always seem so bloody unapproachable."
Her mind swam, "But all the bravado, the banter-"
He pressed his lips against her once more, and this time she managed to smile.
"You seemed so aloof, it was the only way I could think of to get you to notice me."
Emma rolled her eyes, "Oh I noticed you alright-" and this time she kissed him, bundled
her fists in his hair, rolled her hips against his-
"So you don't hate me?" he asked,
"Now let's not be too hasty-" she laughed.
Another kiss, this time leading to her pressed up against the wall, leaving them both
breathless and panting, he caged her in with his arms, drawing his tongue along her
neck, nibbling on her jaw.
"Come on, you have to at least kind of like me…"
She raised a brow, feeling giddy and breathless and more than a little confused.
246

Emma Swan wasn't really sure just yet how she felt about Killian Jones, but she decided
right then she was willing and ready to find out.
"We'll see," see she teased, chasing his lips for another kiss, "I barely know you-"
"Well we'll just have to change that then."
/
A Saturday date, turned into a Sunday in bed and a shared ride to the set on Monday.
/
They tried to keep it quiet. But some kid posted a picture of them on Twitter a couple of
weeks later and it was all over the set the next day.
/
The episode was the highest rated one in two seasons.
Killian, of course, tried to take all the credit.
Emma silenced him with a kiss.
And then some.
If you enjoyed my story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/~kissmelikeapirate
Archive of Our Own - http://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmelikeapirate/works
Cover art by - http://thesschesthair.tumblr.com/
247

248

I Just Wanna
Know Your Name
249

I Just Wanna Know Your Name
Killian arrives at a party and is immediately taken with the beautiful blonde woman he
sees across the room. However, getting across that room to meet her proves to be
more difficult than he ever imagined.
Killian could see that the party was in full swing by the time he walked up the driveway
to David and Mary Margaret’s house. The muffled din of music and laughter permeated
the quiet night air, bringing a smile to his face. He could tell good things were awaiting
him inside.
Walking up the stoop with a bounce in his step, he came to a stop at the front door and
was just about to knock when he noticed a crafty wooden sign hanging inside a wreath.
“Come on in, make yourself at home!” the sign read, and Killian shook his head at
another of Mary Margaret’s cutesy contraptions.
Turning the knob, he found the door unlocked, and he casually made his way into the
foyer which adjoined the great room. The sights and sounds of the party were brought
to life before him, people talking, eating, and drinking in various parts of the living room
and kitchen.
He was just removing his sport coat when a very attractive face caught his attention
from across the room. She was perched on a barstool, her long legs a vision in a short
skirt, and luscious blonde locks floating against her back. Emerald green eyes caught
his unwavering gaze, and she stopped in mid-movement, holding her beer in mid-air on
its way to her mouth. He gave her his best “come hither” smirk and saw the corners of
her mouth turn up in the barest of smiles, though the dimples in her cheeks gave her
away. Ducking her head adorably, she returned her attention to her drink and the
conversation she was having with a group of ladies including Mary Margaret.
Who was this beautiful siren? And why hadn’t David ever mentioned her before? He
would make it his mission to find out.
He was still caught up in his newfound enchantment when David himself came over to
greet him.
“Killian! How are you, buddy?” he said, offering his hand for a friendly shake and
breaking him out of his trance.
“Dave! I’m well, thanks, mate. Lovely of you and the missus to invite me,” he said,
grinning broadly.
“Yeah, of course. Let me take your jacket for you. We’re putting everyone’s things in the
guest bedroom.”
250

“Thank you,” he said, giving him the jacket with one hand and holding out a bottle of red
wine with the other. “And this is for you.”
David draped the jacket over his arm and took the bottle from him. “You didn’t have to
do that, man. But thanks, this looks like a good one. Maybe I’ll hide it from the guests,”
he added in a conspiratorial whisper as he elbowed him. “Come on in, make yourself at
home - like the sign says.”
He was just about to turn and walk down the hallway when Killian caught his elbow.
“Dave, I was just wondering, who is that lovely lass talking to Mary Margaret?” He
nodded his head in her direction.
David turned back towards the kitchen. “Who? Oh, yeah, I thought you might take a
special interest in her,” he said, smiling. “That’s -”
But he never finished his sentence because their friend Robin had the ill-timed
inclination to interrupt them right at that very moment.
“Killian. Hey, mate,” he said, his face the approximate expression of a basset hound.
“Robin,” Killian said, giving him the sympathetic head-tilt. “How are you holding up?”
“Ah, well, you know,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It hasn’t exactly been
a walk in the park, but I’m managing best I can. It’s Roland that I’m worried about.”
Killian grimaced. “Ah, yes. Divorce is never easy when children are involved. But he’s
normally a cheerful little lad. I’m sure he’ll come ‘round eventually.”
“Aye,” Robin nodded, his head hanging low, before regarding Killian again. “I was
wondering if I could bring him around to your clinic sometime, let him see what a
veterinarian does, visit the animals, that sort of thing,” he asked.
Killian smiled brightly, bouncing on his toes. “Sure, mate. Anytime! You can call over
and set something up with my receptionist so that I’ll not be in surgery when you come.”
David returned from putting Killian’s jacket away just then and jumped into the
conversation. “Hey, you can bring him to the animal shelter, too! We’ve got some new
puppies just recently that could use a little playtime.”
“Thanks, guys, I appreciate that,” Robin responded, smiling wanly. Killian patted him on
the shoulder, glancing back to the kitchen to see if the blonde was still there. She was,
looking as delicious as ever as she threw her head back in laughter at something Ruby
just said. Killian had to fight the urge to grin in pleasure, remembering his current
company.
“Killian, let me get you a drink. Still keen on that Brugal añejo rum?” David asked.
“We’ve got it stocked just for you.”
251

“Sure, that sounds splendid, Dave,” Killian replied, then turned back to Robin, who was
sipping a beer. “So, tell me, how are things with Marian?”
Robin shook his head. “It’s the strangest thing, really. It’s like she’s a completely
different person now. I hardly recognize her.”
Killian raised his eyebrows, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, mate, women are
unpredictable at best, and a complete mystery in all other cases.”
Robin chuckled at that. “Too right. I just never imagined when I married her that she’d
turn into such a...witch! I mean, honestly…”
Killian shook his head, grinning. He was right about that. The last time he had seen
Marian, she had interrupted their boys’ night with venom in her words, more or less
telling everyone to get out immediately. They had nicknamed her “The Wicked Witch of
the West” after that little performance.
“You said it, not me.” Killian looked at his friend sympathetically. “It’s going to be alright,
though, you know it? I have a feeling your true soulmate is still out there. Perhaps
Marian has a long lost sister,” he said wrily, making Robin laugh.
“Now that would be a wonder! Pretty sure if she had a sister she’d be as much of a
man-eater as Marian has become.”
The men chuckled together amiably, and again he caught green eyes glancing in his
direction. Killian reached up and toyed with his shirt buttons, letting one more slip loose.
He wasn’t sure why men preferred to be so “buttoned-up” all the time when he was
perfectly suited letting his chest breathe freely. That got her attention, and he could
swear he saw one perfectly-manicured eyebrow raise just slightly before she turned
back to her conversation.
David returned with Killian’s drink, handing it to him.
“What’s this? Something about Marian’s sister?” Dave asked.
“Yes, I was telling Robin if Marian has a long lost sister, then he should be sure to look
her up!” Killian informed him.
David laughed. “Oh! Hey, we should introduce him to Mary Margaret’s step mother!
She’s single.”
“Geez, Dave. What do you take me for? Some kind of desperate sod?” Robin
questioned.
Killian raised his eyebrows. “Regina is a lovely woman, that’s for sure, if you can get
past that whole ‘evil queen’ persona she’s got going on.”
252

“Yes! And she’s actually not much older than Mary Margaret, which is a little weird for
me. Her father married young the second time around, you know how that goes.” David
chimed in.
Robin shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to get back in there yet, to be honest.
Marian was the love of my life.” He looked wistfully at them, taking another long sip of
beer.
Just then the door opened, letting in a gust of chilly air. A few of the candles they had lit
on the mantel flickered briefly before holding their flame. Regina herself walked in the
door, and the three men turned to look at her, wide-eyed. She glanced up at them
curiously and fixed her suit jacket back in place, smoothing a cool hand over her short
dark hair. David finally broke the silence.
“Regina! So glad you could make it,” David said, walking towards her and giving her a
quick hug.
Killian turned towards Robin and watched as his mate gulped deeply, a startled
expression on his face. David brought Regina towards them, one hand on her back.
When they reached the other men, Regina dropped her overcoat and purse
unceremoniously into David’s hands, and he fumbled to catch them.
“Regina, have you met Robin before?” Killian asked.
“I don’t believe I have,” she said, smiling tightly as she offered him her hand. Killian
couldn’t be certain, but he could swear she gave Robin the once over, eyeing him from
head to foot.
Robin took her hand in his, holding it for longer than might be deemed necessary. “I’m
certain I would remember being introduced to an alluring creature such as yourself.”
She smiled again, this time a little less forced, then she nodded at him. “Killian,” she
said by way of greeting. “I see you still haven’t learned how to button a shirt properly.”
Robin grinned widely at that.
“Lovely to see you again, Regina,” he said, bowing slightly. “I was just telling Robin here
how you both work in finance.”
Robin raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t try to correct him. “I’m just a lowly
accountant, as it were. What do you do, milady?”
She arched a regal brow when he called her ‘milady’ and gave Killian an amused look.
“I’m a controller, actually.”
“Is that right?” Robin asked. “But where are my manners, let me get you a drink.” The
pair moved off towards the kitchen bar as David and Killian exchanged a knowing
glance and an amused smile.
253

“Well, then,” David said. “I’ll just go put Regina’s things away.” He motioned to her
overcoat and purse.
“Wait a minute - Dave. You were going to tell me about the lovely blonde lass?” He
gestured towards her as covertly as possible.
“Oh! Right. That’s Mary Margaret’s coworker. She’s the new school counselor at
Hillview. Great with the kids, I hear. She used to work with troubled youth in the foster
system.”
Killian nodded, desperate for any other tidbits he might glean about her. Like if she was
single, for example, and if she might be interested in someone devilishly handsome
such as himself.
He was just about to ask a follow up question (her name, dammit, what’s her name?)
when none other than Will Scarlet appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He always had
the tendency to turn up like a bad penny. One of the more low-brow members of their
group of friends, he had a habit of bringing out the ire in Killian. Still, he was a part of
their motley crew, like it or not.
“Will Bloody Scarlet, how are you, mate?” He held out his knuckles for a fistbump.
“Killian! You’re just the bloke I was looking for, matter o’ fact. I have a very lucrative
opportunity I think you may be interested in,” he said with his smarmiest of smiles.
Killian rolled his eyes. Not another one of his blasted pyramid schemes. He glanced
back to the group of ladies, noting that they hadn’t moved from their perch. She was
playing with her necklace, tugging the pendant back and forth low across her chest. He
could swear her fingers were brushing across her splendid cleavage on purpose, a
smirk and a quick sidelong glance confirming his suspicions. Was she toying with him?
Bloody minx. Oh, he was going to enjoy meeting this one, he could tell.
“...and then after 3 months, you’re bloody set, all the cards are stacked in your favor and
the money practically makes itself,” Will finished, giving him his best salesman pitch.
Killian sighed. “Will, mate, you’re a decent fellow, but you really ought to take up making
money the old-fashioned way. It’s called earning it. Anyone can do it if they work hard
enough.”
Will’s face changed from amiable to irate in a split second. “Oy! I was just tryin’ to help
ya out, mate, I swear it. There’s a lotta good money to be made an’ ya missing out.”
Killian continued to sigh exasperatedly, especially when the object of his interest was
getting up from her stool. Why did he have to waste his time on this bloody wanker
when she was waiting across the room?
254

Thankfully, the answer to his silent prayer arrived beatifically at that moment, touching
his arm lightly and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Killian,” smiled Belle. “It’s been too
long, how are you?”
Killian gave Will a hard look. “You’re lucky your taste in women far exceeds your
interest in money making schemes,” he said. He smiled down at Belle. “I’m well, darling,
how are you? You look lovely this evening.”
Belle smiled back, wrapping her arm around Will’s in an affectionate way. “Were you
talking business again, babe? I thought we agreed to stick to lighter topics tonight?”
He had no idea what the clever librarian saw in the dodgy bastard, but he could at least
admit that she kept him under control most of the time, even managing to teach him
some manners now and then.
Will placed a kiss at Belle’s temple before he hung his head. “I know, I know. I thought
Killian might be interested, ‘is all.” He turned to look at him, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,
mate.”
“It’s alright,” Killian replied, noting Belle’s expression of appeal. He decided to change
the topic, for her sake, at least. “How’s that rascal of a dog of yours doing?”
“Who, Toppa?”
“Topper, right. Last time I saw him he was destroying your living room, I believe.”
They all laughed affably.
Will scratched his cheek. “Well, he may not have very good mannuhs, but he’s a right
splendid fellow, nonetheless,” he said, smiling.
He noticed Belle gazing adoringly at her boyfriend, and Killian’s heart constricted a little,
a twinge of jealousy coming out of nowhere. It wasn’t that he was interested in dating
her, she was his friend and nothing more, but seeing the couple so happy together - and
all the couples at the party - had the effect of reminding him just how alone he truly was.
It had been a long time since he lost Milah, and he was finally beginning to enjoy dating
again, but sometimes he wondered if he would remain a bachelor forever.
He cast his glance back to his mystery woman and noted the group had moved outside
to the patio. Bollocks. Every moment that ticked away was raising his anxiety, as if she
were a beautiful princess who might disappear when the clock struck midnight. He was
determined to meet her before that could happen.
Half-heartedly, he continued his conversation with Belle and Will for the minimum
amount of time that might be considered polite, then excused himself under the guise of
getting another drink. He made it halfway across the room when he was stopped dead
in his tracks by the intimidating form of Anton, a gentle giant, as it were.
255

“Anton, how are you my fine fellow? How’s the plant research progressing?” He glanced
out the sliding glass doors onto the patio with repressed longing. Standing up with her
back facing him, he was able to admire the shapely curve of her arse and his torment
continued, unable to walk away from the only bloke in the room probably lonelier than
he.
“It’s going really well, thanks for asking, Killian. In fact, I think we might have found a
breakthrough in our stress tolerance field tests. I may just get another patent with my
name on it.” Anton bobbed his head up and down, for lack of a more sophisticated
expression.
“Is that right? Well, good for you, mate. That’s something to be proud of, for certain.”
Killian clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder, wondering how many minutes this dull
conversation would cost him.
He was partially saved from having to find out when David suddenly reappeared.
“Hey, guys. Killian, I was just going to show Anton here my new setup in the man cave.
You gotta come check it out!” He pointed his finger behind him.
Killian raked an agitated hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “Sure, Dave,
lead the way.” David’s childlike grin was so beseeching, he knew there was no getting
out of this, beautiful stranger or not. It wasn’t worth crushing the host’s feelings, even if
he had little to no desire to see this “man cave.”
They stopped on their way past the kitchen and Killian poured himself another generous
measure of rum. If he was going be to cockblocked all night, he was going to need more
sustenance than the meager portion Dave had handed him earlier. Bloody lightweight
couldn’t handle two teaspoons of liquor.
The Nolan’s had a lovely house, which was the purpose of their housewarming party to
illustrate. Beyond the great room was another hallway leading to the laundry, the
garage, and Dave’s “man cave,” it would seem. Killian raised his eyebrows when he
entered the room, as it was actually much more appealing than he’d have ever
imagined.
The room was quite tastefully decorated in a nautical theme (Mary Margaret had good
taste, what could he say) with navy blue walls and white trim and rich mahogany
wainscotting. Against one wall was a monstrous flat screen television, with a couple of
supple leather armchairs facing it. Tucked against the window was a pool table, and
suddenly Killian wasn’t so disappointed he came.
He ran his hand across the edge of the table, admiring the gleaming wood. “I didn’t
know you were a pool player, Dave.”
256

David grinned happily. “Well, if I wasn’t before, I am now!” he exclaimed. “Get a load of
these armchairs, though, boys. Come on, sit down, try ‘em out.” He patted the
armchairs.
Obligingly, he sat down in one while Anton took the other. He propped one leg up on his
knee and leaned back, sipping his rum.
“Not bad, Dave, not bad at all,” he said in approval.
“Not bad? These are freakin’ awesome!” Anton chimed in.
“Just wait ‘til I show you the surround system!” David said, grabbing a remote from the
side table.
For his part, Killian was momentarily distracted, until he caught a glimpse of golden hair
through the window, and his contempt blossomed deep in his chest. I thought a man
was supposed to help his mates out, he thought tersely. Or was Dave going to insist on
keeping him all to himself?
Twenty minutes later, when all the specifics of his new LCD panel and accompanying
home theater system had been fully explained and fawned over, Killian was itching to
head back to the party, his leg twitching nervously. He had to find a way out of here and
back to more tempting company.
Just as he was thinking this, David finally said the words he had been waiting to hear.
“Well, boys, I should really head back out to the party. Mary Margaret’s probably
wondering where I’ve been.” He smiled sheepishly.
“Yes!” Killian exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. He cleared his throat, trying to cover
his blunder as David gaze him a quizzical look. “I mean, it would be great to hole out in
here all night, but your lovely wife is likely to have all our heads!” He raised his
eyebrows for effect.
The boys chuckled as they made their way out into the hallway. When they returned to
the kitchen, Killian craned his neck, trying to see if the beautiful lass was still out on the
patio, but there was no one to be seen. Then he spotted a blonde head of hair spilling
over the back of the sectional sofa, and he smiled to himself. There she is. And all
alone, too. Perfect.
He was just about to stride over to her when Mary Margaret walked in from the foyer.
“Killian! How are you, Sweetheart?” she asked, coming in for a hug.
As he was hugging her, he spied none other than Graham Humbert walking over to the
couch, smiling predatorily at his lass. Shit. He hadn’t counted on Fireman Graham to
steal the show. If there was anyone here who was competition for the affections of a
lovely lass, it would be him.
257

When he pulled back, his face must have been the picture of anxiety, because Mary
Margaret looked concerned.
“Everything alright, Killian? Has David been showing you a good time?”
He forced a smile. “Yes, yes. I’ve just been made privy to the wonders of his man cave.
And your house is lovely, Mary Margaret. I’m very happy for you both.”
Her face softened, but she didn’t release her grip on his arms.
“I was just...looking for someone. Ah! There he is,” He pointed at Robin, still deep in
conversation with Regina, and his mate looked at him questioningly. Before Mary
Margaret could respond, he strode towards Robin, winking at him surreptitiously.
Robin and Regina were standing at the corner of the couch, so it was the perfect spot
for him to pretend to be moving towards. He wasn’t sure what Mary Margaret’s opinion
would be of him hitting on her new friend, but regardless, he had to move quickly before
he blew his shot at even meeting her. Graham may be talking to her now, but Killian
knew that a man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. He had no
intention of conceding so easily.
As he rounded the corner of the couch, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mary
Margaret wasn’t still watching him. She was not. Luckily, she had headed back to the
kitchen to refill the cheese platter and her attentions were elsewhere. Robin was so
engaged with his conversation, he either didn’t care that Killian had pointed to him or
had completely forgotten about it already.
Killian smoothed his hand over the back of his hair, preparing his cheekiest come-on
and wondering what his ‘in’ would be to their conversation, when he glanced towards
the blonde speaking with Graham and stopped in his tracks.
Ice blue eyes framed a lovely face, and he realized with a sigh that it was not his
mystery woman after all, but Elsa. She almost always wore her hair in a braid, so it was
a bit surprising to see her long hair hanging loose around her shoulders. From the way
she was looking at Graham, though, it was apparent why she had gone to the extra
effort this evening.
Damn. Perhaps the beautiful princess had run off into the night after all. Killian took a
large gulp of his drink, letting the alcohol burn his throat. Glancing about the room, he
noticed that everywhere he looked people were clustered together in couples, save for
Anton and Leroy, who were laughing heartily about some nonsense or other.
Feeling defeated, he sidled along the edge of the room unnoticed until he came to the
sliding glass doors, and he slipped out onto the patio, breathing in the cool night air. It
had grown darker since he’d arrived, and the patio was lit meekly by a few outdoor
lights and the watery glow coming from the pool. There were two large chaise lounges
with canopies set up just out of sight of the doorway, and he wandered towards them.
Circling round the first, he collapsed onto it, settling his weight against the pillows.
258

“Bloody buggering hell!” he groaned out, putting his hand over his eyes.
A melodious giggle alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he sat up straight,
turning his head from left to right. It was then he noticed long, sleek legs stretched out
across the other chaise lounge, though her face was hidden from view. Then she sat up
and pulled the canopy back a notch, and Killian’s face lit up in a wide grin as green eyes
peered back at him.
“Tsk, tsk,” she chided. “Is that the way proper Englishman are supposed to speak in
front of a lady?” She fluttered her long, dark eyelashes at him and his heart all but
stopped beating.
Feeling his ears grow warm, he scratched behind one nervously. “My apologies, lass. I
didn’t know anyone else was out here.” He looked her over and was even more
impressed with her beauty from up close. There was something special about this one,
he could feel it.
She continued smiling at him, so he decided to lay it on thick. “What’s a beautiful
creature such as yourself doing out here all alone?” he asked, giving her his best selfassured
smirk.
She giggled again, and it was like music to his ears. “Well, it seemed the only safe place
for those of us who came here alone. I felt a bit like the third or fifth wheel inside.”
“I know the feeling,” he sighed, liking where this conversation was headed. “You came
here alone, then?” he asked. He glanced down at her left hand, which was resting on
her thigh, and was happy to find a bare ring finger.
She looked him over, but didn’t respond right away. “That’s right.”
“I’m Killian, by the way,” he offered. “Killian Jones.”
“Oh, I know. Mary Margaret already told me all about you,” she said, smiling a secret
smile. “The adventurous veterinarian from England, who plays pool and drinks rum.
You’re practically famous.”
Now this was a surprise. Killian sat up more, swinging his legs over the side of the
chaise so he could face her.
“Is that so? You know who I am, and yet you haven’t even told me your name.”
She pursed her lips at that, but turned her head. “What fun would that be?” she asked
coyly, grinning smugly. When she looked up at him again, her green eyes were flashing
with mischief.
Killian didn’t want to admit it, but she may have been right. The mystery was intriguing
him probably more than it should. He longed to unravel her, piece by piece, know every
part of her from start to finish. The only question was if she would let him.
259

“I hear you’re one of Mary Margaret’s coworkers, that you are the new school counselor,
and that you used to work with foster children,” he told her, swirling his rum in circles
and looking at it nonchalantly.
She arched a cool eyebrow at him, obviously impressed. “All true,” she said simply,
before continuing. “Which do you prefer, children or animals? Or is that an obvious
question?” she asked.
Killian sensed a test, and he grinned at her. “Both, I think. I was a child myself, once,
believe it or not.”
She laughed. “Like a million years ago, right?”
“Perhaps,” he answered. “Can I get you a drink? I’m having rum right now, as luck
would have it. Care to try it?” He had a few tests of his own.
She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the chaise and facing him, their knees
almost touching. “Alright, I’ll try it,” she said, before taking the glass out of his hand and
raising it to her lips. He swallowed hard as her mouth opened and she poured the
amber liquid between her red lips, leaving lipstick stains on his glass.
“Mmm,” she purred. “Delicious. Tastes like toffee or something.” She licked her lips
slowly and suddenly it was a few degrees warmer on the patio than it had been before.
“It’s yours, then. Have as much as you like.” Watching her drink it was satisfying enough
for him.
She laughed softly. “I’m willing to share,” she said, handing it back to him and brushing
his knee with her own.
He smirked at her, then purposely stuck his tongue out before taking a sip. Her eyes
grew dark at the sight, and something provocative yet dangerous ignited between them.
“So, are you new in town, or just a new job?” he asked, passing the glass back to her.
“Both,” she answered cryptically, so he pressed on.
“And how do you like it so far? Do you think you’ll...stay?” he asked, his eyes flicking to
hers. Something about her struck him as shifty, as if she hadn’t spent a long time in one
place before.
She took another slow sip of rum before passing it back to him and seemed to
contemplate his question.
“I think I’ve got a pretty good life here,” she said, as she considered him. “What about
you? You used to live in England, have you been here awhile now? Ever think of going
back?”
260

He shook his head. “My past is buried there, and I’d like to keep it that way, I wager.
Things are lighter here, fewer things to remind me of it.” He almost said her, but thought
better of it. “Besides, my brother moved to the states a few years ago, so there’s really
no reason for me to go back now. I’ve got no family besides him.”
The lass smiled sympathetically at him, her eyes full of recognition. Could it be that she,
too, had lost someone? Or perhaps lacked a family, as he did?
She sighed heavily, her eyes cast downward. “I know what you mean. I’ve got no family,
period,” she said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. “Except for Mary Margaret
and David, of course. They seem to want to adopt me. What do you think? Should I
draw up the papers?” She scrunched her nose at him.
Killian laughed. “The Nolan’s are good people, the hero sort. You could do worse for
parents.” He took a sip of rum, the glass now empty.
She looked down at his hands, and took the glass from him, her fingers skimming over
his and making his heart race.
“Let’s play a little game. We can call it a treasure hunt, if you want.”
Killian raised one eyebrow. This woman was getting more enthralling by the second. “I
do like treasure,” he said, biting his lower lip.
“I’m going to go get us some more rum. Then I’m going to hide. If you can find me, there
might be a reward for your efforts.” She rose slowly before him, and he admired every
last curve of her body before him, her floral scent filling his nostrils. It was all he could
do not to reach out and pull her to him.
“Am I to wait here, then?” he asked, hardly believing what was happening.
“Mm hmm,” she said in a low murmur. Then she bent down, placing her lips close to his
ear and her glorious cleavage right in his face. “Be a good boy and count to 50,” she
whispered coarsely, her hot breath tickling his ear. Then she walked away, and he knew
at that moment he’d follow her anywhere. To the end of the world and back.
Tossing one last saucy grin over her shoulder, she went inside the house. He wasn’t
sure if it was the buzz from the liquor or the complete and utter enchantment he was
under, but he sat there for a full minute at least, grinning like an idiot, before he
remembered he was supposed to be counting.
He turned towards the house, now easily illuminated since he was in the darkness of
the yard. Searching the great room, he didn’t see her anywhere. What he did notice,
however, was a light flicking on in David’s man cave, and David himself was clearly
engaged in conversation with Mary Margaret, Robin, and Regina.
Killian smirked to himself. This woman was everything he had hoped she would be and
more. The attraction was undeniable, and he found himself thinking things he hadn’t
allowed himself to even dream of in ages.
261

Making his way into the house, he tried his best not to attract any attention, lest he be
delayed again. He had his sights set on the treasure, and nothing could stop him from
attaining it.
He slipped past the kitchen down the hallway, glancing behind him to make sure no one
was following. When he reached David’s man cave, he noticed the door was slightly
ajar, a thin beam of light cutting across the hallway. Opening the door, he immediately
closed it softly behind him, turning around to a miraculous vision.
She was there. Sitting on top of the pool table, legs dangling beneath her, a half-full
glass of rum between her fingers. She grinned at him and he fell back against the door,
entranced.
“You found me,” she said, taking a sip of their drink. She giggled softly.
Killian felt a bit like giggling himself, but attempted to restrain himself. He strode
forward, never taking his eyes off of her for second, until he came to stand right in front
of her. He took the glass from her and sipped slowly.
“So,” he said, “what’s my prize?” He dared move even closer to her, positioning himself
in between her thighs, feeling the heat radiate off her body. From this distance, he could
see the flecks of gold in her eyes, and the jut of her collarbone that he desperately
wanted to map with his lips.
She stared at him long and hard before she grabbed his shirt in her fists and pulled him
in for a kiss so searing he almost spilled rum all over Dave’s new pool table. Her lips
were full and soft, and it would have been enough until it wasn’t and then he was
tempting her with his tongue, seeking entrance. She obliged him, moaning softly as their
tongues intertwined, moving together in a delicious dance that left them both breathless
and eager for more. He had barely wrapped his arms around her, delighting in the feel
of her warm body against his, when she pulled back, biting her lip and grinning.
For his part, he blew out a long breath, shaking his head. “Well, now. If that’s the sort of
prize I can expect, then I can only wonder what other games you like to play,” he said in
jest, running his palms lightly down her thighs.
She hummed in the back of her throat before she pushed him back, jumping down from
the table. Wrapping her arms around his neck and threading her fingers into his hair,
she pulled him down for another kiss, this time branding him with her tongue and biting
on his lower lip, making his knees shake. Her hand ran down his shoulder to his chest,
and she scratched lightly through his chest hair, sending shivers up his spine. He pulled
her to him, pressing her torso against his, and he marveled at the feel of their bodies
connecting from shoulder to hip. He ran his palm down her side, wanting to map every
curve and yet not knowing how far she’d let him go.
When they finally broke apart, they both gasped for air as she toyed with his collar.
262

“I like you, Killian,” she said, and he suddenly realized he still didn’t know her name.
“I like you, too, darling. Are you going to tell me your name now?” He played with a lock
of her hair, rubbing it in between his fingers.
She giggled, her eyes still dancing with mischief. Then she was pulling away from him,
intent on the door while he could only stand there, mouth agape. He could go after her,
he should go after her, but something told him this was all part of the game, and if he
were patient enough, all good things would come to him.
Clutching the door in both hands, she turned back to look at him.
“Goodnight, Killian,” she said, disappearing into the hallway.
“Goodnight, love,” he whispered to nobody but himself.
~//~
3 Days Later
Emma was sitting in her office, looking over a student’s case file when she heard a
knock on the door.
“I’m not taking any more appointments today. You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she
said, watching the door swing open.
Her eyes widened in surprise. Standing there looking bashful as hell was one Killian
Jones, adventurous veterinarian and drinker of rum. He was holding a bouquet of
buttercups in one hand and a takeout cup in the other. Wearing a navy blue shirt
practically unbuttoned to his navel, tight faded jeans, and a worn brown belt, he leaned
against the doorframe. She had never seen anyone as handsome in her entire life, his
blue eyes twinkling playfully.
“Hello, Swan,” he said, taking her breath away.
Her throat was suddenly dry, but she managed to speak. “You found me,” she said,
grinning broadly.
“Aye. And I’ve brought gifts.” He walked over to her desk, handing her the flowers and
the cup.
“Thank you. What is this?” she asked, holding out the cup.
Killian grinned at her, raising his eyebrows. “Why, hot chocolate with whipped cream
and cinnamon, of course.”
She smiled at him and groaned softly, taking a sip. “Someone’s done their homework.”
Holding the cup out to him, she asked, “Wanna try it?”
263

He took it from her and put it to his lips, taking a small sip. “Mmm. Delicious.”
As he handed back the cup, he looked thoughtfully at her. “So, you like sharing then?”
She let out a small hmph. “I like sharing with you,” she said, and they stared into each
other’s eyes, the happiness overflowing. This time when she giggled, he allowed himself
to giggle too.
If you enjoyed this story, check out more of my fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6824993/amagicalship
264

The Fourth Overture
265

The Fourth Overture
Emma and Killian were just children learning to grow up when they found each other
through music and fell in love. Their love is put to the test when the Dark Curse sweeps
Emma and her kingdom away and they have to begin again. Lieutenant Duckling and
Captain Swan, ft. Princess Emma and street musician Killian Jones, with Cursed!Emma
and Cursed!Killian.
part 1 - we were just children
Killian scrunched his face as Cook scrubbed at it with a rough cloth. He didn’t
understand what all the fuss was about. The crew had been talking about some girl all
morning. He didn’t see how it had anything to do with him and why they hadn’t
disembarked from the ship after making port hours ago.
Cook spit on the cloth again and wiped at Killian’s neck. Killian turned away in mild
distaste, a frown pulling on the edges of his mouth.
“No need to look so sull’n, boy. That be the best we can do with yer anyhow,” the oneeyed
man mumbled before dropping his meaty hand.
Killian took that as permission to scamper away. He ran towards the mast and started
climbing the rigging when he heard the sound of trumpets, quickly followed by the
familiar barks of captains telling their men to get in order.
To Killian’s bemusement, the sailors in each ship along the berth got in line like they
were members of some royal navy. He was frowning so much at the spectacle that he
nearly missed the one that caught everyone else’s attention. It was the subtle shift of
his own crew’s heads that alerted him to the true scene.
Running along the docks was a yellow haired girl in a red dress. The fabric had a
certain sheen to it that indicated it was finer than any fabric Killian had ever been
privileged to touch. Just from her clothing, it was clear to him she was high born.
But there was also the way she held her head up and the retinue that followed her and
everyone clearing their way for her. And of course, all the men straightening like the
Admiral himself had come to inspect their posture!
Why, the girl was probably only a year or two older than him! Killian thought with a
shake of his head. Noble born or not, Killian really didn’t see what all the fuss was
about. She didn’t even glance at any of the merchant ships she was passing. She was
clearly more intrigued by the tall masts of the actual Royal Navy.
266

Killian was just about to climb higher on the rigging to see if there was anything more
interesting when Murphy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back on to the deck.
Though he hadn’t been very far up, Killian landed hard in front of Captain Flint.
The hooked faced man sneered down at him and pointed a heavily ringed finger in his
direction. “Sing, boy.”
Killian was so startled that he didn’t sing any of the sea shanties he had been taught by
various members of the crew. Instead, he sang a song his mother used to sing to him,
nearly the only thing he remembered of the woman who died when he was barely a
toddler.
looking up from underneath
fractured moonlight on the sea
reflections still look the same to me
as before I went under*
The girl had already passed the ship but she paused and tilted her head to the side.
After a moment, she turned back and looked up, following the sound of his song. Her
deep green eyes met his as he continued to sing.
and the arms of the ocean are carrying me
and all this devotion was rushing out of me
and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me
but the arms of the ocean delivered me
Without breaking eye contact, she walked closer and closer to the ship until she was
nearly at the end of the pier. Her people fluttered around her, not getting in her way but
clearly concerned about the change in her trajectory.
Killian may have found her unremarkable from afar, aside from the fineness of her
dress. But closer up, he thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. And with
her eyes locked on him, for the first time in a very long time, Killian felt like he was worth
something. So, he kept singing.
267

part 2 - learning to grow up
“I know you.”
Killian startled and pressed too hard with his bow, the string it touched protesting with a
discordant squeak. He kept playing as though he hadn’t been interrupted. He always
opened with the same song, the song his mother used to sing to him, the song he once
sang to a beautiful girl who made him realize he could make it on his own, so long as he
could make music.
Once he finished, he looked up to see who dared interrupt him. Bloody hell, he knew
who that yellow haired girl was now - the Princess of Misthaven.
“I know this song too. Play it again,” she said. She probably didn’t mean to sound
demanding but she did. She was a princess after all.
She placed a gold coin in his upturned cap on the ground and Killian scrambled to put
the coin in his pocket. He knew better than to leave something like that out in the open
for anyone to swipe.
Once the coin was secured, he put his violin and bow back in position and began
playing again. As it was seven years ago, she kept her eyes on him. And he looked
back too. He didn’t need to look at the frets or strings to play this song.
and it’s breaking over me
a thousand miles down to the sea bed
found the place to rest my head
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go
“What else can you play?” she asked eagerly as soon as he finished.
“Anything,” he replied, holding his head up high just as he had seen her do once before.
“Anything?” she asked, eyes wide. But the next moment, she shook her head, causing
her sunlight locks to fly. “You can’t play anything,” she dismissed.
“Sing me a song,” he challenged.
268

Emma squinted in thought before singing a folk song that hadn’t been popular in some
time. But it didn’t matter if it was familiar to him or not. He could play it. He hummed it
back under his breath and then positioned his fingers and bow.
She didn’t interrupt him this time and he played it without fault, even on a secondhand
violin that he had tuned himself.
She approached him again with a coin held between two fingers. Killian held the bow
delicately between his teeth and turned his palm upward so she could drop it in the
makeshift cup he made with his hand. To his surprise, she instead pressed the coin
into his palm. He felt a jolt where her fingers grazed his skin - Killian didn’t know what it
felt like to be touched by lightning but he imagined he knew now.
He shook his head at the fanciful thought when she pulled her hand away.
“Do this one,” she said as though she hadn’t changed him.
She sang in a foreign language that he did not know, that was only taught to the high
born. But he didn’t need to know the language to play it. He spoke best in the
language of music anyway. It transcended all else for him.
From the look in Emma’s eyes, he knew he had played it flawlessly. A few other
observers came and dropped some copper in his hat and he bowed to them clumsily.
“You are to be a royal musician of the court,” Emma declared once he straightened.
“Not playing for coins in the street.”
Killian frowned as he tried to put his day’s earnings away while looking at her. He didn’t
like the tone of her voice, telling him what to do and how things were. It reminded him
too much of Flint and being indentured into servitude.
“I earn my coin. I don’t take charity,” he huffed at her.
“Of course, of course,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But you will have
to learn where your place is.”
Killian felt his temper flare. “I’m an orphan living on the streets. Of course I know where
my place is,” he scowled.
He knew her offer was nearly too good to be true, that he should grasp it and keep hold
of it as long as he could, but he couldn’t accept that Princess Emma of Misthaven had
taught him he was worth something only to set a ceiling to what he could accomplish.
He slung the violin across his back. “Goodbye, Princess,” he said as he mockingly
bowed at her.
“Wait! Where are you going?” she cried, clearing unprepared for him to reject her offer.
“I’m better off alone,” he threw over his shoulder.
269

“I will find you!” He thought he heard her say as he ran away. “I will always find you.”
But that was impossible. Killian shook his head. As he had said to her, he was an
orphan from the streets - no one had ever looked for him, no one ever would.
Killian hiked his violin higher on his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.
part 3 - when we found each other through music
Killian stumbled despite her hands guiding him from behind. “Can’t I take the blindfold
off yet?” he huffed, tempted to pull off her silk scarf himself. She had accosted him
before he had even disembarked from the Arendelle merchant ship that brought him
back from a longer than usual service with the Royal family in the northern kingdom. He
had written her weeks ago about the two gracious princesses her own age who had
given him leave to practice on their grand piano. He hadn’t heard back from Emma -
perhaps bored with his endless descriptions of the piano’s craftsmanship - and had not
expected her to be at the docks when they made port.
“Then I wouldn’t have an excuse to hold you,” she breathed into his ear as she
tightened her arms around his waist.
“Well, if you say it like that, lass,” he replied, placing one of his hands over hers. Every
time their skin touched he felt that familiar jolt pass through him, making him feel warm
and alive.
“Just a few more steps,” she murmured as she maneuvered him. Finally, she paused,
hugging him from behind for a moment, cheek resting between his shoulder blades,
before reaching up and pulling the blindfold off with a flourish.
He was standing before the grandest piano he had ever seen - a majestic concert grand
made of enchanted wood and clearly, of the finest craftsmanship. It even exceeded the
grand in the Royal Hall at Arendelle.
“What do you think?” she asked, biting her lip and hopping back and forth on her
slippered feet. “I had it commissioned for you.”
Killian was in a daze. "What is this for?” he breathed as he slowly approached the
piano, trembling with awe, eager and excited to touch the instrument but just as afraid of
ruining it with his undeserving hands.
“Let’s call it an engagement present,” she said so quietly he thought he might have
misheard her.
“Wha...are you...?” he asked, swinging his head around to look at her.
“Marry me, Killian.”
270

Killian forgot all about the piano in his astonishment. He had never been sure what
would result from his relationship with the Princess of Misthaven. They’d shared a few
secret kisses and fallen asleep in each other’s arms from time to time. But she had
come-of-age now and he had played during her debutante ball, where royal suitors had
come from all over the kingdom and beyond to court her. He had been expecting their
intimacy and time together to come to an end, that he would only see her from afar,
when he was commissioned to play during special court events. “I, I uh...I’m just a
commoner, a half-sailor, a street musician,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.
But she reached out and grasped both of his hands. “You’re a great many things as
you’ve just said yourself! And not just some street musician but the greatest musician in
this kingdom,” she said earnestly. “Perhaps in any kingdom!”
She looked into his eyes and as it was that very first day, twelve years ago, he could not
look away.
“I love you. It would be my honor,” she said with a curtsy that took her down to one
knee, her hands still holding his, “if you would have me.”
She continued to stare at him, her eyes wet and wide, her lips trembling a bit, and he
realized with awe that she was scared, scared that he would say no. Granted, she had
spent years finding him at his next destination, following his song, standing in dirt roads
and around wishing wells, waiting for him to come back from a sojourn at sea, and he
had always turned down the offer of a royal position.
But it had nothing to do with her. He loved her too. But he had thought her admiration
had been because of his music. That it wasn’t actually HIM she loved. She was young,
beautiful and heir to a kingdom. That she wanted him for him, out of all the partners she
could have in the seven kingdoms, was beyond his comprehension.
He still didn’t have the right words to say to her so he did what he did best instead. He
took her hand and guided her to the piano bench. She looked at him in confusion and
some alarm but he smiled reassuringly at her and placed her hands on the keys. Note
by note, he taught her how to play his mother’s song, their song, on the piano.
and it’s breaking over me
a thousand miles down to the sea bed
found the place to rest my head
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go
271

and the arms of the ocean are carrying me
and all this devotion was rushing out of me
and the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me
but the arms of the ocean delivered me
Even after they stopped playing, he could hear the song in his heart. He hoped it
touched her as it did him, like an echo of their hearts in each other, deep in their souls,
in a language that could transcend time and words.
“To a new beginning,” he smiled at her as she leaned into him, eyes on him.
“To a new beginning,” she echoed.
And for the first time since he first lost his hope, he allowed his heart to open up fully to
his princess.
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go
never let me go, his heart sang.
They ended up playing the song once more that night, achieved one last
transcendence, made one last vow, shared one last kiss, before a curse swept Emma
and her kingdom to another realm while Killian was away at sea.
and it’s over
(never let me go,
never let me go)
and I’m going under
(never let me go,
never let me go)
272

ut I’m never giving in
(never let me go,
never let me go)
but I’m never giving in
tbc in storybrooke…
If you enjoyed this story, check out my other fanfics:
Fanfiction - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6454472/allyourdarlings
Archive of Our Own- http://archiveofourown.org/users/allyourdarlings
*song: Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine
273

274

Wanderlust
275

Wanderlust
Emma Swan is the hidden princess of Misthaven, when she was born the kingdom was
under siege from the Evil Queen, and King David and Queen Snow in their desire to
protect their daughter locked her away. When Emma is twenty her only dream is to see
the world, and create a life of her own. Her parents deny her. Instead they sign a treaty
with the Dark One her hand the in marriage the price of such a deal. Desperate and
angry Emma does the only thing she can think of. She steals away into the night, and
finds herself at a tavern in the village, with a blue eyed stranger.
Killian Jones is a pirate. He lost his hand in a duel with the Dark One, and is consumed
by thoughts of revenge, but even so. Who was he, to deny himself the simple pleasures
when in port? So when he comes to the aid of a beautiful blonde, who is being harassed
by a drunkard, how is he supposed to know she was a princess as desperate for
escape as he?
The ocean is beautiful. If she closes her eyes, she could imagine sprouting wings and
soaring over it. As long as she’s been alive, she’s dreamt of embarking on adventures
across the lands. Unfortunately, her family had other ideas. For nineteen years, all
Emma Swan Charming has known, has been the stone walls of her palace, and the
brief glimpses of the ocean from her balcony. Her father and mother were protective,
though with good reason. When Emma was born, they had been at war. War with her
mother’s stepmother Regina. Even after the Evil Queen was defeated, they continued to
shelter her. Making her into the elusive princess of Misthaven, unseen by her people.
Only whispers shared about her.
The seclusion is what drove her tonight. As Emma slipped to the maid quarters, stealing
clothing and escaping the palace in the dead of night. Her destination was unclear, as
she moved through the silent corridors of the palace, ducking as night guard made their
rounds, into dark corners. Then continuing.
She knew the palace like the back of her hands, each corner and crack, and every
escape hatch she never had the nerve to choose. But tonight? Tonight she needed to
escape. To at least see what laid outside. Perhaps never return. As upon doing so, she
was sentenced to a life married to the gruff and insensitive son of the Dark One.
Emma shuddered at the thought of marrying Baelfire, he had seemed kind enough
when they were children, but as they grew, he did not. He still acted like a child even
though they were grown. Definitely not marriage or king material.
Still she knew it would likely happen. As their fates seemed tied together with golden
threads. No matter how far she fled, he was there, with a smile and a compliment, but
beneath she could see something brewing that would not be explained with words. They
276

weren’t true love. She knew now she would likely never get that. That didn’t stop the
pang of regret in her heart that she never got to try and find it.
So here she was, borrowed cloak pulled tight around her, as she made the last mad
dash, and out into the open air. Then after a moment, just letting it soak in that she was
out, she was off. She slipped silently and quickly across the courtyard and off the palace
grounds. Not releasing a breath till she was safely away from the palace. Then she
started moving along the streets. Her hood pulled up to cover her hair. She looked
around. The village wasn’t much. Its buildings shabby and rundown, yet still they spoke
a silent beauty Emma had never seen before. A large grin spread on her face, as her
attention was drawn by the sound of merriment. Loud laughter, and the stale smell of
something she never smelled before.
Emma approached it, at first she only intended to peer in the window, but something
drew her through the doors. Inside the lighting was dim, but the atmosphere was light,
people laughing and cheering, and some were singing. She felt the smile tugging at her
lips, as she stepped farther in, lowering her hood, just as someone ran into her.
“Sorry, girlie.” Said a gruff voice, “Didnae mean any offence.” His eyes roved up and
down, making her skin crawl, “Say, are you here alone, darlin? Can I buy you a pint?”
he asked, his leer making her shrink back, disgusted by the smell of his breath, and the
heat she could feel coming off of him.
She shook her head, “No thanks… I’m not thirsty.” She tried, attempting to sidestep him.
The man stepped with her, “Oh come on darlin. I insist.”
Emma glared, her anger flaring up, tinting her skin pink, “I must insist to decline then.”
She said sharply, standing tall but careful, so as not to let her regal mannerisms seep
through.
He reached out, to grab her, “C’mon darling, just one drink.” He said, his hand was
almost on her arm, when it was caught by the wrist.
“I believe the lady declined, rat. Now, if I were you, I would step back, and leave the lass
be.” Said a silky voice, with an exotic accent, and a dangerous edge.
Emma looked up, and saw her rescuer. A tall man, dressed head to toe in black and
leather, with a splash of red from the blood colored vest. He was a tad shorter than the
man who had approached her, with a dark head of hair, and a prominent jaw, seen
clenching as he stared down the man, with piercing blue eyes, precisely the color of the
ocean in the morning light from her balcony. He had a dusting of stubble on her chin. He
was likely the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
277

When the man pulled back, the other man smirked, “As I thought. Move along.” He
ordered. Her rescuer released him, and turned to her, his expression softening. “Are
you alright?” he asked, a genuine concern in his voice.
Emma nodded, “Thank you.” She said, her eyes soaking in every part of this man. “I
should probably go…” she said, starting to back towards the door.
He held up a hand, “No, no! You don’t need to. He’s gone. I dare say he’ll not be back
either.”
She paused. She before smiling softly, “Perhaps for a little while.”
He beamed. “Well lass, might I offer you a drink?” he asked, “Me and a few of my men
are seated in that corner.” He said, gesturing with his right hand. It was then she
realized this was in fact his only hand, as the left wrist ended in a wicked looking hook.
Bells tolled in the back of her mind, a niggling thought of something she heard in the
hushed whispers of court. But she pushed them away, enthralled by the sight before
her.
She knew she should decline. Perhaps this had been enough for one night. Enough
adventure to settle her heart, but his blue eyes were so hopeful. His stature so open, his
voice so inviting. So she found herself smiling back at him slightly, and nodding, “Maybe
one drink won’t hurt…” She said, cautiously.
The man gave her another dazzling smile, “Now, I believe an introduction is in order.”
He said, giving a bow, and taking her hand in his. “I’m Captain Killian Jones. At your
service.” He punctuated his statement, by brushing his lips across her knuckles.
Emma felt a flush go through her, as his scruff tickled her hand. She had never gotten
such a greeting before. Not even at balls. The princes there always gave her tight bows,
and offered her dances, none deigned to press their lips to her hand before. Not even
Baelfire. It made her tingle down to her toes. She needed to say something. Anything.
Anything to make him stop staring at her pinkened cheeks, and make her seem less
terrified. She gave him a small smile, tamping down her emotions, like mama taught
her, then she spoke again. Saying the only thing that could come to mind. “Captain?
That’s no uniform of any navy I’ve seen. Not even my…” she cut herself off, almost
stating that even her father, who was extremely lax in his military uniforming didn’t
permit the captains in his fleet to wear such tight leathers and vibrant colors. “Not even
my king’s navy.” She corrected quickly.
If Killian Jones detected anything off about her response he said nothing, merely
shrugged, “I sail under no king, milady.” He smirked, “I’m more of a freelancer.”
Emma’s eyes widened, “Oh, you’re a…”
278

He shrugged again, straightening, “Well, they call us pirates. We sail where we will, and
answer to no crown.” He told her, making it sound so light in his meaning.
Emma knew she should leave now. Perhaps alert the guards to a pirate in their midst. A
wanted one at that, her eyes flicking to his hook, it became clear. The stories she had
heard. Captain Hook. The most fearsome of pirates, rival to Blackbeard himself. Yet his
eyes held no malice, he didn’t know she was the princess. Nobody need know. And who
better to tell her of a world so wide, then one who has sailed its seas without order, with
only the thought to see it. “How wonderful it must be. To be out on the ocean.” She said,
it sounded lame even to her, “I’ve not seen the world beyond our small port.” She said,
with wonder. She knew she came off like a child, but couldn’t seem to care.
He looked down on her, gazing at her, like she was the ocean that so enthralled her,
and in a quiet voice he said, “Perhaps, rather than drink with my men, we find a corner,
where I can tell you of the world, and you can tell me your name.” he suggested.
Against everything in her mind, which was screaming, don’t do it. Leave, you’ve had
your adventure! Emma took his offered hand, and let him lead her to a secluded corner,
where the ruckus of the crowd seemed more hushed, and she sat, unable to stop
fiddling her fingers, trying not to look at the beautiful man beside her. The pirate.
“Now, I believe the deal was, a name for a story of my adventures of the world.” His
eyes twinkled in the low light, and Emma froze.
She couldn’t well give her real name. He probably wasn’t from this land; in fact, he had
never really been a bother to her kingdom before this. But everyone knew of the elusive
princess Emma. So she wracked her brain, and spat out the first thing that came to
mind, “Leia. My name is Leia.”
He looked suddenly disappointed, “Is it?” He asked. Something, something in his eyes
told her he saw right through her lie, then those eyes cast to her nervous hands, “Are
you alright? You seem nervous,” He asked softly.
Emma laughed nervously, “I’m not sure, am I? I mean, I agreed to have drinks with a
pirate captain,” She was rambling, she wanted to stop, “My father would be livid if he
knew. He would likely lock me away, and throw away the key, if he even knew I was
here!”
Killian looked almost amused, “I see. Protective father, thus a false name. I can
understand that, as for the Pirate thing. I assure you darling, nothing will happen you
don’t wish. If you simply wish to have a drink and hear of far off lands, then that is all
that shall happen.”
She couldn’t lie, she didn’t know what to expect from a pirate captain. This of course,
was the farthest from her expectations. She expected a much more rough and
279

uneducated man So she smiled, and looked down at her hands, willing them to still, as
a barmaid placed two mugs of frothy drink before them. Emma didn’t think, merely
grabbed, and started to gulp, trying to steady herself. She choked, at the acrid taste,
and nearly spat it across the table.
Killian chuckled, “Easy there, lass. Ale can be an acquired taste. Best not to chug at
first.” He suggested.
Emma nodded, making a face as she pushed the mug away from her, “That might be
best.” She said, wishing she had some water to chase the flavor away.
“You’re a most peculiar lass. I’d almost think this to be your first time in a tavern, yet you
carry yourself so well.” He mentioned.
She ducked her head, “Well, that comes from years of being locked away, by parents
afraid of the world.” She confessed. She froze, glancing at the pirate, praying he didn’t
figure out who she was.
He nodded, “I see. Snuck out for the first time? Allow me to make it memorable.”
Emma smiled gratefully. “I think you already have.” She admitted. Then she turned in
her seat, “What’s it like?” she asked, scooting forward to the edge of her seat.
He turned as well, their knees almost brushing. “Eager lass. But I did promise a tale of
bravery and adventure, did I not?”
Emma nodded. “I just want to know what the world hides beyond the sliver I can see
from my home.” She said softly.
Killian placed his own mug by hers, “Very well.” He said, then he launched into his tale,
his voice wrapping around the words like silk. Describing lands were the air smelled of
spices, and women danced in the street to music made only by the stomps of feet. He
told her of an island, were none grow old, and of places that women are treated as
queens no matter the station.
Emma clung to his every word, soaking in the images he spun for her. She imagined
being one of the women, her feet moving to a rhythm of men stomping. She thought of
venturing to the land where boys stayed boys forever. She felt a smile on her face.
Wonder filling her eyes.
“And when the moon is high in the sky, the kingdom releases the lanterns, from every
point in the land. A sight to behold. Once mourning and hopeful the lanterns of the king
and queen searching for their lost princess. Now a sign of celebration at their family
once more being whole. One of the best things to do, is stay out in the harbor, and
simply look to the sky as they flow past. Listening to the music flowing from the kingdom
280

above,” He said in a soft almost whisper, his eyes soaking in the awe filled expression
on her face.
“It sounds amazing. Perhaps one day, I could see it.” she whispered.
Killian reached cautiously, and took her hand in his, “Perhaps you could.” He said
carefully, “My ship leaves port in the morning, but I happen to return to this particular
port quite often. If you wish to see the world, it would be an honor to be the one to show
you.”
Emma so wanted to say yes, agree and run away tonight, but she imagined her parents.
Her mother telling her she was their most precious. Her father saying none could shine
as bright. She knew then, she couldn’t go. “I’d love nothing more. But my family needs
me. My parents would be distraught. I can’t just run away.” She looked down, feeling
her heart fracture just slightly.
Killian nodded, looking disappointed, “Aye, well… if ever you change your mind. You’ll
know where to find me.” He cleared his throat. “I understand the importance of family.”
He said. She realized he still held her hand in his, but she didn’t move, not wanting to
lose the warm feeling of his skin on hers.
“Maybe someday.” She said softly. Then she looked up, “Because I do want to see the
world. I want to see the ports of women dancing, and smell the spices on the air. That I
know more than anything.”
“Then do it.” He whispered, leaning in close. She could feel the warmth of his breath on
her skin, making her shiver.
“I-I…” she stammered, her eyes flicking to his lips, as he mirrored her. “I…” she tried
again, getting distracted by the urge to grab him by the lapels and kiss him, something
she never wished to do before, with anyone. “I…” she stammered once more, before
her mind threw in the towel, and said ‘screw it!’ and she was grabbing him, pulling him
to her. His eyes widened, before he willingly came, their lips colliding in the middle.
Emma felt explosions behind her eyes, color flooding her vision, heat building in her
heart, pouring out through where their lips met, as she gasped, his lips moving over
hers like silk, his arms going around her. Holding her closer.
A part of her was screaming, saying this wasn’t proper, but she shushed that part,
pushing it away, as his tongue prodded for entrance, and she let him in with a small
moan as she tasted him. She had moved closer and closer, until she was practically in
his lap.
Outside a chorus of alarm bells chimed, and Emma pulled away from the pirate in her
arms, her eyes blowing wide. She knew what those bells meant.
281

Killian was pressing his fingers to his lips in a daze, “That was…” he whispered, his
voice husky and low.
Emma set to untangling herself, “I have to go.” She gasped, tripping over the bench.
“Wait, don’t go.” Killian said, “I meant what I said.” He said.
Emma felt guilt bubble in her throat, “I’m sorry.” She whispered, pulling away, pulling her
cloak around her, and dashing out into the night.
She didn’t expect the hand on her wrist, “Leia.” He called to her quietly, “What are you
so afraid of?”
She couldn’t tell him, instead her green eyes met his, and she felt sorrier than she could
say. “Emma,” She whispered. “My name is Emma.” She said, before pulling away and
running into the night, towards the bells. Towards her prison. Leaving the charming,
dark, and dangerous pirate behind her, the taste of his lips still fresh in her mind.
~~
He watched her go. Her voice ringing in his mind, making his heart stutter and start. He
wanted to run after her, but his feet were made of lead, his legs refusing to go, “Emma,
my name is Emma.”
His fingers went back to his lips. Her hood fell, her golden hair flying behind her like a
trail of sunlight in the darkness, before she faded from view. “Emma.” He whispered,
“Emma, I will find you again. No matter what, I won’t let you get away.” He needed to
know her.
He wanted to show her the world. And see her dance in the streets, that golden hair
tangling in his fingers as he held her at night. Emma… One kiss, and she already held
his heart. He just needed to find her again, so he could win hers. “Emma” He whispered
again, before he finally moved back into the tavern.
If you enjoyed my story, please check out my other fanfics:
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