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spartanguard · 2 years

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most wanted (11/11) [CSSNS21]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Ahhh we're finally here! The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this adventure and for all your lovely comments!! Hope you enjoy this final part! Forever thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl and to @cssns for putting on the event each year, even if I am so far behind here.

“And then I’m all yours,” Emma purred, putting her arms around Neal’s neck even though her wrists were still cuffed. “I love you, baby.”

“Aww, I love you too,” Neal replied, though it was clear his heart wasn’t fully in it—he just loved that he was getting his way.

Emma, though—for all that Killian had learned to read her, her skills in deceit were expert and he’d obviously been wrong about her before, even when he had all his faculties (which he didn’t have at the moment, pain still blurring his vision).

So he wasn’t sure who she was lying to: Neal…or him.

And the way she was pressing her body against Neal suggested the latter.

But he couldn’t do anything about it kneeling in the dust. However, when he shifted to stand, a couple of Neal’s thugs were immediately on him, grabbing his biceps and forcing him to stay down.

That drew Neal’s attention, even though Emma’s lips had been suspiciously close to his. “So, got any ideas on what to do with him?”

Emma shrugged. “Whatever you want; I don’t care.” She was looking straight at him with a look bordering on contempt. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

Neal stepped back from Emma and guided her shackled wrists over his head—though he held them a moment and pressed a kiss to the back of a hand, to which Emma gave a girlish giggle. It was easy to see how he’d charmed her in the first place, even if it was somewhat performative. (Killian would know; he’d done that move a million times—including to her.)

“We'll have you out of those things soon,” Neal told her, nodding at the cuffs. “But hold onto this in the meantime.” And handed her the gun, which she didn’t hesitate to take, quickly moving her finger to the trigger. Either Neal was an idiot, or Killian had been well and truly duped.

Neal turned his attention back to Killian, pulling out a pocketknife from his trousers before kneeling in front of him. “Who knew I’d get the satisfaction of killing the man who ruined my family twice?” he taunted, making a show of flipping the switchblade open. “I should have known I was off; the other guy went down too easily—had no idea what I was talking about. Figured he just forgot. But you—you look like you’d put up more of a fight. Like you took her as some sort of trophy, I bet; is that it? You just love to tear families apart?”

“No,” Killian snapped back. “I told you—I loved her.”

Neal ignored him. “That guy was pretty, but you’re prettier…I can see why my mom was taken in. It’d be a shame if something happened to that face.” He struck out with the blade at Killian’s cheek, slicing a thin but deep line that made Killian hiss in pain; he could feel warm blood running down his face almost immediately.

“But you probably need your neck more, huh?” Neal went on, pressing the knife against Killian’s jugular. It wasn’t the first time Killian had been in that position, but it had been a while, and the determination in Neal’s eyes made him think he was most likely to actually do it.

“Let me guess—you thought you were gonna take Emma, too? Some knight in shining armor deal?”

“Why would I want someone I was trying to arrest?” he said, feigning disinterest.

“Same reason you took the wife of a man you’d later arrest,” Neal countered, putting more pressure on the blade; Killian tried to move his neck away, but only had so much room to move. “Do you get off on the power or something? And then just toss them aside when you’re done?”

“Is that what your father told you?”

“He said you charmed her away from us, and then let her die when you got bored with her.”

“He lied,” Killian insisted, hoping an emotional plea might get Neal to stand down. “We fell in love, and we ran off together. Your father was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. And she didn’t just die—he killed her. He tore out her heart and crushed it in front of me. I did vow revenge for that, and I achieved it when I arrested him. But believe me, I was just as heartbroken at losing her as you.”

An array of emotions played across Neal’s face at what was apparently a revelation. It was to be expected, really, and the look that finally settled in place was a familiar one—one he’d worn so often as a scared, lonely boy.

“She abandoned me?” he said in a small voice, and for a moment, the scared young boy that he must have been once showed through.

“Not a single day went past where your mother didn't regret leaving you. But you have to understand just how unhappy she was.”

“No!” Neal shouted back, looking away. “You’re still lying! None of this is true! She loved us and you took her!” To emphasize his denial, he pressed even harder with the knife, and Killian could feel the sharp edge start to cut into his skin.

“A person’s not an object, mate; and I’m a bounty hunter, not a kidnapper. Trust me, I have no need to engage in any such deception to get a woman in my bed. Perhaps your father should have taken better care of his partners; perhaps you should, too.”

“Or what—you’ll steal her away, too?” Neal scoffed. “Didn’t you hear, though? She still loves me.”

Killian didn’t have a retort for that. That was beside the point right now, though. He would get over Emma’s double crossing; it might take some time, but he would. But he couldn’t let whatever heartache he was feeling prevent him from fighting to get back to Alice.

However—the blade was still cutting into his neck, blood likely staining his collar by now, and any move he could make to free him from his captors’ hold would only increase his chance at mortal injury.

“Not anymore, asshole.”

Emma’s voice drew the attention of both him and Neal, and before either could truly acknowledge her presence, she took the butt end of the pistol and, with the full force of both hands, smacked it down on Neal’s temple.

He swayed for a moment, dropping his knife, and then collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

Killian stared agape, too stunned to even appreciate the fact that Neal’s cronies had loosened their grip on him, likely equally surprised by the turn of events.

“Sorry,” Emma said, staring right at him. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

Killian blinked a moment. “Sorry for what? I’m not the one who’ll be waking with a splitting headache,” he replied, nodding at Neal and trying (and failing) to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, Killian—no,” she insisted—though what she meant, he wasn’t sure. She stepped over Neal’s comatose body and dropped to her knees in front of him. “I meant—all of it,” she explained. “I was just doing whatever I could to make sure he didn’t hurt you. Though I guess I didn’t do the best job,” she lamented, then grabbed her skirt and tried to dab the blood off his face.

But that didn’t concern him at the moment, so he stilled her hands with his. “So—you were playing him? About all of that?”

She almost looked angry. “Of course I was! You really think I’d go running back to that dick? Especially after everything that’s happened between us—-after this morning?” she added quietly.

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain?”

“No,” she conceded, and blotted up some of the blood on his neck. “Gods, these are gonna leave scars.”

“It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “I’m fine—and I’m so glad you were lying.”

She grinned at him, but it quickly switched to a look of alarm as another voice interrupted. “And I’m glad he was telling the truth—at least, I presume so.”

Killian’s midsection was still incredibly sore, particularly on one side near his ribs, but he managed to sit and turn around to face the newcomer—and smiled. “Nemo.”

The older man wore an equally warm expression as he approached, which was also when Killian realized no one else was with them—Neal’s goons had ran off, clearly showing the (lack of) loyalty their boss inspired.

“Are you alright, my friend?” Nemo asked when he reached them, gingerly placing a hand of comfort on Killian’s shoulder.

“I’ve had worse days,” he replied, attempting to keep things light, even if the ache was settling in more as adrenaline faded.

Nemo patted his shoulder in a paternal move that seemed to say “we’ll talk later” before looking over at Emma. “And this must be the elusive Miss Swan?”

Emma looked somewhat panicked at being identified. “Aye, that she is,” Killian confirmed, reaching over to grab her hand and give a comforting squeeze. “Emma, this is Nemo, my boss.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear,” she quickly blurted out, only to be met with a chuckle from Nemo.

“So I heard,” he answered. “And you can pin this fellow on other crimes?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma confirmed. “If you’re still looking for whoever robbed the bank in Franklintown last year, that’s him right there. Well, and me,” she confessed, “but I don’t care; I’ll tell you everything, even if it’s self-incriminating. I just didn’t do that.”

“In that case, I just might know a sympathetic judge who’ll be receptive to your story,” Nemo replied with a wink.

“You heard that, too?” Killian asked, impressed.

“Aye, almost all of it. I saw what happened outside the office, and followed as quickly as I could. This isn’t the most solid building; there were plenty of spots to spy from.”

“Yeah, Neal’s never been great at picking the best hideouts,” Emma added.

“Nor very original, I gather; we make at least one bust a month here. We knew where you were headed right away.”

Before either of them could ask who “we” was, an officer Killian had worked with on occasion—Billy, he thought was his name—popped his head in the open door. “We’ve got these guys, boss; want help with that one?” he asked, nodding at Neal.

“Yes, please,” Nemo replied, both polite and commanding in a way only he could manage. “I don’t think Jones here is going to be much help. We’d best get you to a surgeon,” he added in a quieter voice.

“Gods, I’m really so sorry, Killian,” Emma said again, trying in vain to staunch the sluggish flow of blood from the cut on his cheek.

“It’s done, love; we’ll both live to fight another day. But could you help me up?”

She nodded and smiled, though tears were brimming at her eyes. It was awkward, with the way her hands were still tied, but she managed to support his left arm enough that he could rise without jostling his painful right side too much. That also gave room for Billy and another officer (Jack, maybe?) to come in for Neal, who roused slightly, but only enough to get his feet under him.

Emma let him continue to lean on her and helped him shuffle outside, where the door was slamming on one prisoner wagon, but another waited, empty; Nemo stood beside the open back end.

“I guess that’s my ride,” she tried to joke, but its presence was anything but a laughing matter. This was it.

“Thank you for believing me,” she continued, turning to face him, “and for everything you’ve done. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to repay you—”

“You don’t have to, love,” he interjected, reaching up to wipe a tear that was starting to track down her cheek. “‘Twas my pleasure—all of it. And thank you for trusting me.”

Emma sniffed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so—”

“You will.”

“I hope so,” she agreed, more optimistic than he’d yet heard from her. “Send my love to Alice and Belle.”

“I’ll do that.”

“And…gods,” she stammered. Her head fell, but then she stepped closer, closing what little space had remained between them and placing her hands on his chest before looking back up. “I'm not a tearful goodbye kiss person. But maybe just this once.”

Then she rose up on her toes and placed a deep kiss against his lips, one which he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, despite his injuries. It was bittersweet—filled with the tenderness and sweetness of a new relationship but aching with an air of finality.

He held her as tight against him as he dared, even when they eventually broke apart for air. If this was the last moment they’d have for an unknown amount of time, they were going to savor it.

At least—until she shifted and hit his sore spot, making him suck in a breath in pain.

“Dammit—sorry,” she cursed, and stepped back a bit.

“With any luck, that will be all healed up next time you see me,” he promised her (through strained breaths).

He could see a quip on the edge of her tongue, but she bit it back. “Will you write?” she settled on.

“Absolutely.”

“Although—I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

“Nemo will.”

“Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting any more. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Emma. See you soon.”

She gave him another sad smile, a quick peck on the cheek, and then walked away from him, toward her fate.

Nemo, ever the gentleman, helped her get up into the back of the wagon, closed (and locked) the door, and hit the side of the wagon to let the officers know they were free to drive away.

The wagons started slow, but then began their amble down the dusty alley to the jail a few blocks away. He watched as long as he could, until they turned the corner back to the high street.

He still needed to wrap up his paperwork back at the office, get examined by the local surgeon (and likely get some stitches), and find out if his preferred inn had a bed available; he didn’t have the energy for half the things on that list, let alone the ride back to Meryton.

He also needed to collect the bounty on Emma, which was going to feel like a hollow prize now, considering he’d much rather have her.

But the biggest thing on his mind as he watched the wagon slip out of sight was wondering how much he would regret not telling her he loved her.

Alas. It would have to wait. At least he was a patient man.

He limped over to Roger and mounted him, then headed off to take care of business. And to distract himself from the growing heartache in his chest.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Eleven months later

Killian checked his pocketwatch for the umpteenth time and impatiently shifted his weight from side to side. He was on time—he always was—but would his mark be?

To say he’d thrown himself into work to fill the void Emma had left in his life wouldn’t exactly be accurate, but it wasn’t wholly untrue, either. Once he got home after the events in Longbourn, he spent a few months laying low and recuperating from what ended up being a couple cracked ribs, in addition to the lacerations. It was some much-needed down time with Alice that he hadn’t had in far too long, and they began to plot their big vacation.

They hadn’t gone just yet, though, as work had come calling again, not to mention his own restlessness. To be fair, he only took short assignments that never took him too far from home, but they were more frequent than they had been in the past, though generally simpler (and safer).

That was probably Nemo’s doing as much as anything; the man’s paternal instincts ran deep and he’d fretted about Killian nearly as much as Belle and Alice had, though obviously from afar.

But this—this was his biggest task yet, and he didn’t dare mess it up. Not that he often did, of course, but he was extra careful about being taken by surprise nowadays.

The street was fairly empty, thankfully, so no one paid much notice to him and Roger, waiting by the hitching post and staring at the building across the street. It was one of the quieter corners of town, on the far edge of Longbourn, but he knew his intel was good. He just felt like he’d already been waiting enough, though yet another check of his watch told him that only another minute had passed.

The door of the building he was watching swung open and he stood at attention—but the young man who walked out wasn’t who he was after; not even close.

What was the holdup? He went digging in his bag for the telegram Nemo had sent with the details, wanting to check again that he had the correct hour—that he hadn’t misread—even though he probably had the note memorized by now.

Of course, it said the present time, just like he knew it did. He sighed and shoved it back in the hidden pocket within the saddle bag, next to some other letters.

He turned back towards the street, leaned against Roger, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was being irrational. He was too mature to act like this; everything would happen when it was supposed to.

Which was apparently now.

“Killian?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and tilted his head forward. In the back of his mind, he hoped it was a move that looked casual and confident, even though his heart rate suddenly ticked up.

Because Emma stood just across the dirt lane from him, at the bottom of the steps coming from the kingdom’s womens’ prison.

The first thing he noticed was her shocked expression—perhaps not the reaction he’d hoped for, but not entirely unexpected. Otherwise, she looked—well, a bit tired, a bit wan, and her cream dress hung a bit loose on her frame. She’d also cut her hair to about chin length, and it was back to its natural blonde.

But she’d always look beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a tentative step toward him. “Are…are you on a case?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied casually (though in tone only; he was actually restraining himself). “I thought you might prefer a ride, versus whatever other transportation plans you may have had upon release.”

She checked both ways before crossing the empty street, but still stopped several feet away from him. “How did you know I was getting out today? I didn’t even know until a few days ago; there’s no way you could have gotten my letter that fast.”

True to his word, he’d kept up communication with her as much as he was able; her replies were infrequent but cherished, and currently stashed in his saddle bag. “Nemo wired me,” he explained.

“That was kind of him,” she replied politely, though she seemed unsure at what that meant. Hopefully she realized that Nemo was the one who kept Killian in the loop and even made it possible for him to contact her while locked up; prisoner locations weren’t generally public knowledge and she certainly didn’t have his home address.

(Nemo had also gently teased Killian any time they met in person about his crush, which Killian took as a stamp of approval.)

“Well, you helped bring down a wanted killer. It was the least he could do.”

Emma blushed and looked down, but it was true: her testimony not only sent Neal away on the aforementioned murder charges, but also a string of other unsolved robberies that she was able to pin on him, and a few other accomplices.

She began to wring her hand around her wrist, which was when he noticed: the magic-blocking cuff was still there. “Oh, love—let me get that,” he said, then held out his hand to her, hoping she’d take it.

She did, albeit hesitantly, and he had to make a point to ignore the spark at contact. He gently guided her hand onto his hook and slipped the cuff off; the skin beneath was even paler than she was and slightly calloused, but she sighed in relief as soon as it was off. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that it took so long to come off. It’s a clever, albeit cruel, trick of the thing that only the person who puts it on can remove it.”

“And they definitely wouldn’t have let you take it off before I was taken in.”

“Alas, no.”

A slightly awkward silence settled over them as she rolled her newly freed wrist; he tried not to wince at the audible pop it made.

“Oh, I have something that might make that feel better,” he said, and turned back to the saddle bag, digging through for a well-hidden bundle. “This is yours.” He presented the small, but important, package to her.

She untied the string holding it together, and then her eyes went wide when the fabric fell open “What…hold on, is this…?”

“Half of your bounty,” he confirmed.

“No, Killian—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “Half is more than enough for me, but I can hardly leave you penniless and fresh out of jail.”

“I’d get by,” she said defiantly.

“I know. I have no doubt you would thrive. But I wanted to help ensure it.”

She worried her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I like the hair,” he went on, hoping to somewhat change the subject from the past to at least the present. “It’s nice to see your natural coloring.”

“Thanks,” she replied, still shyly, and tucked a bit behind her ear. “The brown was looking weird as it grew out, so one of the girls in there just cut it off for me. I’m still getting used to it being so short, though.”

“It frames your face nicely,” he couldn’t help but add.

She smiled up at him through her lashes, but her face suddenly fell and she practically jumped into his space.

“Oh gods—your cheek,” she lamented, reaching up to brush the new scar that crossed his face. “I didn’t realize that cut was so deep; I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he told her. “It wasn’t your fault. And it’s all healed now. Frankly, I think it makes me look rather dashing,” he only half joked, with a terrible wink.

She giggled and rolled her eyes, but continued to cup his face. “I missed you,” she admitted.

He knew she was taking a risk with that confession—showing her hand, baring part of her heart to him. And he appreciated it more than he knew how to express.

He hoped the fact that he had made the effort to be here expressed how he felt, but in case she hadn’t picked up on that, “I missed you too, love. Quite a lot.”

They were very close—close enough that he could easily pull her into his embrace, find her lips with his, but he didn’t want to push her too far too fast.

She seemed to be thinking about it too, though, if the way her eyes darted back up to his from the vicinity of his mouth was anything to go by. But then her stomach growled exceptionally loud, breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you could use a real meal.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I know a good diner not far from here. It’s not Granny’s, but it’s better than average.”

“Sounds amazing. Do you have to head out after that?”

It was obvious what she was doing: testing the waters to see if he was really there for her or not.

“Depends. Where do you want to go?”

“Well, I was given the address to a halfway house in town, so I had planned on heading there,” she started, and he hoped his face didn’t fall as quickly as his heart descended into his stomach.

“I can take you there, if you wish,” he offered.

“See…my plan, though, was to write and let you know where I was, then see what kind of response I got from you before making any other decisions. So you kind of made me skip that step,” she said with a teasing smirk.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not. You saved me the postage.” Her winks were a lot better than his—but more, it was fun to banter with her again.

“And what kind of response were you hoping for?”

“Something like this,” she shrugged. “Westley coming for Buttercup and stealing her away. Unless…you didn’t…”

“I did,” he confirmed, then swallowed, suddenly nervous again. “It’s just…been a while,” he said, scratching behind his ear. “And I wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted, too. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, then stepped closer to him again and put her hands on his shoulders. “And that’s what I love about you.”

Killian blinked for a moment; he hadn’t expected that. But then he realized she was watching his reaction, and a grin quickly and involuntarily spread across his face. “I love you, too, Emma. I’ve regretted not telling you since the day we parted.”

“Jail cannot stop true love; all it can do is delay it for a while,” she paraphrased. (He may have read their new favorite book with Alice several times over the past year.)

He could probably have come up with a responding quip, but there’d be time for that later; right now, he just really, desperately needed to kiss her—and did so, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing his lips against hers firmly.

It somehow felt both new and familiar at the same time, which was probably appropriate—even if he knew Emma and his feelings for her, they actually had a chance now to give things a shot; to take a step forward together.

Eventually, they broke apart to take a breath, but stayed close—as they walked to the diner, while they ate, and as they mounted Roger and headed out; he intentionally took a route out of town that avoided the warehouse where they’d last been together.

“So where are we going?” she asked as they started to leave Longbourn.

He simply answered, “Home.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

That night, they stopped in Meryton to rest. He made a point to find a nicer inn than the first time they had been there—but they did continue their train of thought from that night, so perhaps not a lot of rest was had. At least no one seemed to judge their late exit the following morning, or the shy, but knowing grins they continued to exchange through breakfast.

The day’s ride saw them enjoying the late summer sun as well as each other’s presence, Emma almost constantly leaning back against him with a relaxed smile on her face.

At some point, though, she noticed the difference in the amount of time they’d spent on the road versus their last trip, and most likely the difference in surroundings. “Where are we really going?” she asked as they stopped for dinner by another of the many roadside firepits he was familiar with.

“I told you—home.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but any further concerns fell silent in lieu of kissing (among other things). (This particular fire pit was imbued with a cloaking spell that made it invisible if it was occupied; they definitely took advantage of that fact.)

And after another long day of riding, they approached some familiar surroundings late in the afternoon the following day. When Emma realized where they were, she turned around and grinned at him.

Much like when they left last year, the residents of Storybrooke gaped at them as they rode into town. Killian could only imagine what tall tales the rumor mill had spun after their unceremonious departure—and wondered how much of it Granny and Ruby set to rights.

And he was sure they’d find out shortly; they’d hardly even reached the hitching post outside the inn before Emma was halfway off the horse. It was midafternoon, so thankfully they’d arrived in between meal rushes and had a chance at a proper reunion.

She at least waited for him to tie up Roger before running through the saloon doors ahead of him, and sudden screams and squeals of laughter and joy greeted him once he followed her inside.

Emma and Ruby were wrapped in a tight embrace next to the bar, which looked just the same as it had the last time he was here, though maybe bearing a few more scuffs. And Granny was on her way out of the kitchen to join the group hug, so Killian continued to hang back, not wanting to intrude—and knowing full well that the both of them were likely to fawn and dote on him in a matter of minutes.

He also had a question for them: did—?

“Papa! You’re here!!”

The question couldn’t even finish in his mind before Alice was tackling him about the midsection. He huffed a bit—his ribs were fully healed but still had their tender spots—but didn’t hesitate to return the hug.

“So are you, starfish; I was worried I may have beaten you here.” She’d been growing like a weed the last year and was nearly up to his shoulder now.

“Never! I did all the navigation—all by myself!”

“Is that so?”

“Well…Aunt Belle helped a little.”

“I see.”

“Only a little though,” the woman in question added, coming from the direction of the stairs to the boarding rooms.

“Alice? Belle?” Emma had stepped away from Ruby and was looking at the other reunion. “What are you…?”

“We’re here to see you!” Alice exclaimed, and promptly threw herself at Emma, then started to talk her ear off about…oh, everything.

Granny quickly prepared a feast in a way only she could, and they all sat down to catch up with one another; it turned out Ruby was now engaged and she was quick to announce that Granny had taken a paramour as well—a fact which made the older woman scold her salacious granddaughter…while blushing.

Alice was exceptionally taken with Emma’s natural hair color, especially because “It looks just like mine!” A fact she emphasized with a knowing look in Killian’s direction. Though she’d obviously never lacked for parental figures, the fact that her hair color was so dramatically different from his and Belle’s dark hues he knew occasionally bothered her. So he was pointedly ignoring her implication that she should have someone around she resembled in that department, even if it was far more likely to happen then she realized.

And after several days spent in town, actually on vacation this time, they settled into something resembling a life. There was a cottage for sale just a short walk outside of Storybrooke—right on the water, like the one Alice grew up in—and Emma immediately purchased it with her share of the reward money and insisted they stay any time they wanted. Which ended up being all the time.

Storybrooke wasn’t the most convenient town as far as staying connected with Killian’s office in Longbourn, but there was a village just to the south that was on the telegraph network, so it wasn’t uncommon for he and whichever lady in his life felt like it to take Roger for a bit of a ride to check messages.

Killian also continued to take fewer jobs, so he could spend more time with Alice—who flourished in their new town, attending the local school and making friends. More even than adventure, that was all he wanted for her, so he ended up turning over much of his part of the reward to Belle so she could go on a solo trip. (She tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t hear it; and the postcards she sent back were incredibly gorgeous.)

Emma became Killian’s partner in crime, so to speak—or rather, the opposite of it. Her feline side proved invaluable at times in conducting reconnaissance, and she just had a knack for finding people, to the point that she received the occasional solo assignment; Killian had been correct in his assessment of Nemo’s positive view towards her. (And then he teased Killian for not proposing yet. He did get there, though—in the middlemist meadow, on a date that closely resembled their first.)

Roughly a year after they returned to Storybrooke, they were attending Ruby’s wedding to Dorothy—Emma was the maid of honor, and Alice was the flower girl. It was a raucous party like the town hadn’t seen in ages, but exhilarating, and the best part was the shared looks of pure joy on the newlyweds’ faces.

“Guess that’ll be us next, huh?” Emma asked as they sat on a bench along the wall of Granny’s, catching their breaths after dancing.

“I would assume so,” he replied, taking her left hand in his right and observing the way his mother’s ring sat perfectly upon her finger. “Unless you’re having second thoughts; then I might have to see what Granny’s up to.”

“Don’t even joke—you know she’d take you up on it.” (Doubtful, with the way the old wolf currently was resting her head on her beau’s shoulder.) “You’re stuck with me, Captain.”

“Damn,” he said dryly, clearly not complaining.

They took advantage of the quiet moment to share a cuddle of their own, and he took in his surroundings: Alice was playing with her friends, Belle was dancing with the fellow she’d been seeing, and the woman he loved—despite their strange and almost impossible start—was in his arms.

Though it didn’t follow any path he’d ever expected, he seemed to be living out his own sort of fairy tale adventure, and even if it was unconventional, it was perfect in its own way.

Emma let out a happy sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. “What?” he had to ask.

“I'm just... happy,” she explained. “It still surprises me sometimes.”

“Aye, love. Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And that’ll be us soon enough,” he added, nodding at the newlyweds, “and we can spend all our days living out our happy ending.”

Emma hummed and smiled. “I can’t wait. But I’m not sure about that term—happy ending. It’s not really an ending, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he had to agree. “What should we call it then?”

“How about…a happy beginning?”

“As you wish.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tags: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbythesea @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #cssns 2021 #cssns21 #wish kj ff #most wanted #my ff

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snowbellewells · 2 years

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CS Fic Rec Monday: “from the edge of the deep green sea” by: @ohmightydevviepuu

Oh my goodness, folks!! This story was originally written for @cssns last summer, but I just got to read it for myself this weekend -- and it is STUNNING!! It just took my breath away, SERIOUSLY. <3 If you like post Neverland divergent fics, this one is for you. If you live for some good angst and pining, this fic is for you. Really if you just like a well told tale that grabs your attention, keeps you guessing, and works your every heartstring, then this is a story you don’t want to miss.

It takes up around where 3x10 and 3x11 could have gone - if Pan had succeeded in making Storybrooke his “new Neverland”. That’s about the best, least spoiler-y way I can think of to introduce it. It would see that Emma is lost to them, and that everyone else is about to follow one by one, but of course our Captain - and the Truest Believer ;) - don’t give up that easily....

Just read it for yourselves - I doubt you’ll be disappointed!

“from the edge of the deep green sea” by: @ohmightydevviepuu

#cs fic rec monday #cssns21 #ouat 3a divergent ff #from the edge of the deep green sea #major cs fic rec

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eastwesthomeisbest · 3 years

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This Could Be Heaven or Hell...

I've been looking for an angel,

To come save me from this hell

To come save me from myself...

I've been looking for an angel,

To kill the aching in my heart

Don't leave me lost here in the dark...

**************************************

Captain Swan Angel and Demon AU for @cssns

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @hollydaisy23 @alexa-fangirl-forever

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caught-in-the-filter · 3 years

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My Bad, Bad Devil, You Put the Angel in You

—an angel!Killian/demon!Emma AU PWP for CSSNS21

A/N: A huge shoutout and thank you to ultraluckycatnd for beta-ing this for me, and to the mods of @cssns for giving us another year of this event!

Heads up that this has some sacrilegious uses of Biblical references, and I totally understand and respect if that's a big nope for anyone for any reason. Most of my life, it would've been a nope for me too. I mean no attack or mockery or other ill intent toward Christianity/religion or anyone who practices any form of it.

I grew up in church but I've been questioning a lot for a long time now, and this sort of became my own little personal rebellion. (I guess writing smut in general has been, but this one is on another level.) I kind of have a love/hate relationship with this fic; it was fun when I started it, but then I got frustrated and stuck, and now I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore. And maybe I'll regret it in the future if I ever see the light again or something, but for now, I've resigned to the fact that if I'm gonna go to hell (if I even believe there is one anymore), then I might as well have a little fun with it while I can.

So if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, dl,dr, and no hard feelings.

Also, I know the title is a little long, but I couldn't resist the Doctor Who reference.

Rated: E; Words: 2904; AO3

——

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Emma purred, closing the distance between herself and the angel standing before her. With a flick of her wrist, she cast him back against the window and commanded the curtains to cross in front of him, spinning him so that he faced the glass before wrapping themselves around his wings and arms to restrain him.

“A daughter of the damned, getting in over her head?” Killian quipped, testing the hold of the thick cloth keeping him in place without fighting it.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t worn a shirt in favor of opening his wings, she reached around his waist and bent her arms upward so she could slowly rake her nails down his exposed chest. “You’re the one tied up, but I’m in over my head?” She twirled a few of his hairs around her finger and tugged, making him flinch.

“You make the mistake of thinking I’m not exactly where I want to be, love.” Killian glanced back at her with a devious smirk. “That is why you’re in over your head.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma smiled. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she lowered her hands and began to unlace his trousers. “I know you want to fall, don’t you?” She freed his hardening cock from its leather confines and slowly ran her hand back and forth along the length of him. “You want to rise and fall and lose yourself in the worst way.”

“With you?” Killian panted, already breathless under her sinfully skilled touch. “Hell yes.”

“Then you’re going to let them watch you fall from grace.” Emma gestured at the window in front of them, guiding Killian’s eyes to gaze out at the possibility of unwitting passersby spotting their activities, before taking him in hand once more. “You’re going to let them see you give all of yourself to a demon.” The guttural groan he made only spurred her on as she continued to pump him. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

Killian’s head fell back when Emma interrupted her stroking to grip his balls with a taunting squeeze, and he muttered under his breath, “God, forgive me,” as his eyes fluttered closed. Bucking his hips, he tried to coax her to go faster, “Yes, Emma, please yes,” but she smiled as she removed her hand and relished the whine that left his lips.

“An angel eager to sin.” She slipped her hands beneath the back of his trousers, kneading his ass for a moment before stripping off the leather, trailing kisses down his spine as she sank to the floor with the material. “Step.” With a tap to the backs of his knees, she removed the trousers completely and tossed them aside.

Emma ducked between Killian’s legs and twisted her body in one fluid motion so that she sat with her back to the window, greeted by his cock pointing right at her face.

“I want to taste you,” she said and lifted his cock so she could lick a slow stripe from base to head, swiping her tongue over the sensitive tip. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she cupped his ass and pulled him toward her as she took him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. The staccato sounds that left his lips convinced her to hold him there as long as she could, flexing her tongue along the length of him, until she had to lean back to take a breath.

“Delicious,” Emma sighed and took him in again, and again, this time guiding him back and forth, in and out, her tongue darting out to tease his balls with each plunge.

Killian panted her name amidst a slew of encouragements, lost in the way she licked and sucked and consumed him. Her grip on his ass tightened, and he bit back a moan when her finger made its way to the center and circled its find before dipping just barely inside.

“Ooh, sounds like you like that,” she parted from him long enough to tease, continuing her carefully intrigued prodding as she asked, “shall we sodomize an Angel of God?”

“It wouldn’t—” he gritted his teeth as she gave his cock a particularly strong suck, straining against the curtains holding him at her mercy, or lack thereof, “—wouldn’t be the first time, love.”

“Oh?” Emma raised an eyebrow at him, pausing for a moment before bringing him into her mouth once more, staring up into his eyes as he watched her intently.

“Aye. Though I much prefer to give than to receive.”

Of course you would, Emma thought, the pun of angelic nature not lost on her. She hummed her assent around him and sent a ripple of pleasure coursing through his body.

It was too much and not enough. As Emma relentlessly devoured him, Killian fought against the material holding him back. With one forceful downward motion, he tore the curtains in half and freed himself as he sought his glorious ascension.

His fingers laced into her hair, and for once, he allowed himself to take. His frantic thrusts were met with surprised and hungry moans, the vibrations of which sent him soaring over the edge.

“Ohh fuck. Fuck,” he cried as he spilled himself down her throat. He felt it when she swallowed as he held her still and his cock continued to pulse.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a pure being,” Emma remarked as she caught her breath when he at last let her go. She got to her feet and stood facing him, using her tongue to trace the lines of the cross tattoo on his chest as she rose, and she yelped when he pulled her flush against him, his arms tight around her.

“Oh, it can be much, much dirtier,” he growled, making her gasp as he gave a harsh tug to her hair and attacked the exposed skin of her neck with sloppy kisses and less than gentle nips and searing hot breath. She arched up into him, and it was his turn to pin her against the glass. His hand and hook frantically tore at her blouse while his mouth continued its expert assault as it made its way to hers and along her jaw until he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Would you like that, demon?” he asked, slipping his hand beneath her waistband and trailing his lips down to the swell of her breasts. “Would you like my mouth on you where you’re warm and wet and wanting for me? Teasing you as you’ve done me, making you long for my cock as much as I long for the feel of you around me?”

Emma suddenly couldn’t find the words, too caught up in the thrill of hearing him, an angel, her angel, talk like that. Hoping to get the point across, she threaded her fingers through the haphazard locks on his head and shoved him to his knees.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” he grinned, holding her gaze as he lifted her incredibly short skirt and ran his thumb along the already soaked strip of lace she considered panties before pulling it down to her knees.

Emma leaned forward to allow the remnants of her blouse to fall to the floor before reaching for the support of the window once more as he canted her hips toward himself with the curve of his hook pressed to the small of her back.

Killian’s wing curled forward to assist with holding up the material of her skirt, the feathers tickling the top of her thigh, so he could focus his efforts on her aching core. Too eager to taste her, he wasted no time, choosing instead to start right with his mouth at her clit. She jumped at the unexpected jolt of pleasure, and he steadied her with his hand splayed against her inner thigh, inching his fingers toward her center.

“How can you be from Hell when you taste so divine, Emma?” he praised. “I could spend eternity quenching my deepest thirst between your legs.”

“Then shut up and quench it,” Emma barked. She didn’t really mean it, not completely. She loved his silver tongue, especially when he used it to talk dirty, but right now she craved him putting it to a different use.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” As he gave one more suck on her clit, Killian plunged two fingers inside her, soon increasing it to three as he stretched her and coaxed out more of her arousal onto his expertly explorative tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that,” Emma sighed, tugging his hair as she rode his tongue and fingers, relishing the warm vibrations his pained groans and hungry moans ghosted over her sensitive skin.

“Oh no, love,” Killian said without relenting, looking up at her as he continued working her between words. “Don’t blaspheme. I’m not Him. I worship at your altar, Emma, and there’s no better place to be on my knees.”

“I like your Word better, anyway.” Emma’s head tipped back as her hips began to buck, but her moment of near bliss quickly turned into one of frustration. “No,” she gasped, shocked and almost offended as he pulled away with a smirk and stood to his feet, leaving her clenching on nothing and far from sated. “Come on, Killian, please! I thought you were all about giving! And how is this worship?”

“I meant what I said, love. I adore you, I do. But I am an angel, after all.” Killian chuckled. “We tend to enjoy when someone is brought to the edge before they’re granted their salvation. I need you begging for it.”

“Fucking tease,” Emma huffed, turning away from him with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Mmm,” Killian mused, “perhaps you are ready to receive more.” He nudged her legs apart with his own, a soft blow with the side of his foot kicking one out to the side, and Emma scrambled to reach her arms out in front of her for balance, her hands slipping on the window as her legs spread. Snaking his arms around her, he set his chin on her shoulder as he held her in his embrace and mused, “What do you think, love? Shall we bare you to them as I take you and show them what they can’t have, or should we keep this sinful skirt on and show them how eager you are to be ravished by an angel?”

“On, off, I don’t care which you’re into, just fuck me!”

“A bit of both then.” Killian pressed the side of his hook to her stomach and pulled her to him, holding her so that her back pressed against his chest. Lifting the front of her skirt, he handed her the bottom hem. “Hold this up for me, love.”

With a smirk, she took it between her teeth, stretching the waistband higher and pulling the material taut between her breasts as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and winked at him.

“There’s a good girl.” He smiled and raised the bit between them with the tip of his hook, taking himself in hand. “You pretend you like to rebel, but you behave so well for me. Now, tell me what you want.”

“I said, I want you to fuck me,” Emma answered, slightly muffled by her skirt, frustratedly trying to swivel her hips in the hopes of getting him inside her.

He draped her skirt over his hand and wrapped his hooked arm around her once more to still her. Her annoyance encouraged him to tease her all the more, and he brushed the tip of his cock between her folds agonizingly slowly as he said, “I need you to be more specific, love. What do you want?”

“Fuck, Killian, I want your cock inside me.” Emma almost dropped her skirt when he filled her in one smooth slide, her jaw instinctively ready to fall open, but she caught herself and clenched it instead, biting down hard on the material with a groan at the sudden stretch.

“Very good.” The tip of his hook dimpled her flesh, dangerously close to piercing her, as he held her against himself and slammed into her from behind. His fingers laced themselves between hers and he caressed up the side of her body as he brought her hand to rest on the back of his neck. Emma raised her other hand in kind, and Killian moved his to her breast, kneading and squeezing it as he lost himself in the feel of her.

“Fuck, you feel fucking amazing around me, Emma. Not even heaven compares to the feel of you.” Killian licked a stripe along Emma’s collarbone and clamped his mouth over the spot, digging his teeth into her flesh. She moaned at the thought of the mark she’d wear tomorrow.

Bringing his arm back, Killian pressed it across Emma’s shoulder blades, pinning her chest to the glass in front of them with an arch in her back that jutted her ass out at him, and this time Emma did drop her skirt as her mouth opened on a loud moan at the forceful change of angles. Killian grunted and tucked his hook beneath the waistband, ripping it apart with the sharp tip and watching it fall as he pounded into her.

“I told you to hold that,” he growled against the shell of her ear. “Perhaps you are a naughty little minx after all.” Killian swatted Emma’s ass with an open palm before grabbing the reddening flesh and massaging it, in theory to soothe the sting but so roughly that she thought he might leave a bruise if he continued, one she’d be more than willing to bear as a reminder of their time for several days to come.

“Forgive me?” she teased in a mocking tone as she met his thrusts with each backward roll of her hips, almost inclined to make prayer hands at him if moving them wouldn’t risk her falling.

“Not exactly a sincere repentance, is it, love?” Killian struck her ass once more before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head backward. “But it is rather tempting to grant you reprieve nonetheless.”

“Ah, so why don’t you give into that temptation, angel?” Emma gritted.

“Don’t try to persuade. Ask me for it.”

“Please, Killian, I’m so close.” Emma couldn’t take it anymore. “Make me come, angel. Please!” Emma sighed through a string of curses as Killian moved the curve of his hook to her clit, pressing the brace against her flesh just above it as he rubbed quick circles over the swollen nub.

“What say you, demon?” he asked, breathless himself as he brought them both to the brink. “Shall we chance our own breed of Nephilim?”

“Yes please,” she panted desperately. “I’ve already tasted you. I want to feel you. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“I’ll give you what you want, demon, but I want to hear you scream my name when I do, not God’s.” Killian’s mouth travelled from Emma’s neck to her shoulder and back as he pistoned his hips with abandon. His teeth scraped her flesh before he moaned against her cheek as he found his release, “Emma, fuck yes, Emma,” filling her with it and pushing it deeper as it dripped down the length of his cock.

With his brutal thrusts and relentless teasing, Emma granted his request soon after, crying out, “Killian!” at the top of her lungs as her knees buckled beneath her.

He practically lifted her off the ground when he caught her with his arm wrapped around her middle, holding her tightly as he drew every last drop of ecstasy from within her before he slipped from her core and spun her into a lightheaded kiss, caging her against the window with his arms once more.

“Well, that was fucking hot.” Emma smiled against his lips as she pulled one into her mouth to bite it playfully, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Who knew you had it in you, angel?” One hand anchored in his hair as the other clutched at his ass, and she pulled him closer to her so she could rut against his leg, letting their releases spill down her thigh onto his and making him groan.

“It was the other way around, love,” he joked with a certainly devilish smirk, “but I concur, it was fucking hot.” Tucking his arms beneath her legs, Killian hoisted Emma into them and carried her to the bed, tossing her not so gently onto the mattress.

Emma giggled as she taunted him with one curled finger, beckoning him to her as she spread her legs wide, an invitation he happily accepted as he knelt between them and crawled above her body with a guttural growl.

“You might just convince me of the divine benefits of your side,” Emma purred, running her hands down his sides to grip his waist, “but I think I need to witness a bit more firsthand to make sure I believe, if you’ve got another miracle in you.”

“Angels are eternal, darling,” he said. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what it takes to really fill you with the spirit.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——

A/N: "Glorious ascension" to describe an orgasm? Yeah, I'm going to hell.

——

Tag list ❤️: @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @wefoundloveunderthelight @xsajx @zaharadessert

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs smut #captain swan #angel!killian #demon!emma #cs ff #cssns 2021 #cs pwp #pwp #angel/demon AU #kayla writes #my writing

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kmomof4 · 2 years

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Artist Spotlight

As part of the campaign to attract more artists for this years CSSNS, I wanted to make a post highlighting some of my favorite artists from years past.

@spartanguard was my artist for my vampire Killian fic, Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates and I will NEVER be over the magnificence of each piece!!! They made the fic come to life in a way I would never have imagined!!! If you haven’t read the fic, I hope you do and I’d love to know what you think. But even if you don’t, please look at Kaitlyn’s artwork under the cut and go give her lots of love!!!

#artist spotlight #cssns21 #spartanguard #of darkness vampires and soulmates #fanart for fanfic #krystal writes

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veryverynotgoodwrites · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), A Discovery of Witches (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Maleficent Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Maleficent (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Pinocchio | August Booth, Liam Jones (Once Upon a Time), Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), The Apprentice (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Alice Jones | Tilly, Belle (Once Upon a Time) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions Summary:

“Once the world was full of wonders, but it belongs to humans now. We creatures have all but disappeared. Daemons, vampires, and witches - all hiding in plain sight, ill at ease even with each other. But, as my father used to say, in every ending...there is a new beginning.”

A Captain Swan AU.

*I do not own any of these characters from OUAT, nor any part of A Discovery of Witches. Some dialogue and events are taken from both OUAT and ADOW to create this story, and are products of their original writers. This is just a fun CS au for your reading pleasure.

Long awaited, even longer procrastinated -

I present my addition to the 2021 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event: Blood & Magic, a CS/ADOW AU! @cssns

The entire time I read A Discovery of Witches, I absolutely adored the story and the relationship, but it wasn't until I saw the show that it clicked - it was perfectly suited to be a Captain Swan story!

I've been planning and working for months to get this out to you guys, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as you'd hoped!

Huge thank you to my beta, @ultraluckycatnd, for being patient and just generally being awesome while I was brainstorming at random times of the day/night! You're the best.

Another huge thank you to my artist, @mariakov81!!! I've enjoyed getting to know you, and I'm so pleased with what you've created for this story so far! Thank you so much! It’s stunning, and I can’t wait to see what’s coming in the future!

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tags list!

@teamhook @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz

#blood and magic #veryverynotgoodwrites #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #a discovery of witches #adow #emma swan #killian jones #alternate universe #my fic #cssns21 #cssns

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stahlop · 3 years

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Unmasking the Truth

Here it is! My entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! I'm so excited to show you this! I got this idea for a superhero au back in March after my kids were watching Megamind one day. Obviously, I made it work for Captain Swan.

Thank you to @kmomof4 for being my beta and my artist. Isn’t this art just amazing? Make sure you give Krystal kudos too.

Emma’s head is killing her and she has no idea why. She vaguely remembers going to the bar with Killian last night, but she doesn’t remember much after that. She usually never drinks enough to give herself a hangover headache like the one she’s sporting right now. What the hell did I drink? She reflexively goes to put her hand to her forehead but she can’t lift it. Well, that certainly gets her attention.

Her eyes fly open and her head jerks up, sending a jolt of pain throughout her neck and shoulders adding to the pain in her head. She tugs on her hands a few times, determining that they are tied behind her. Her arms already ache so she thinks she’s been in this position for a while. The last thing she remembers was it being around midnight when she’d been at the bar with Killian, her best friend. She quickly takes in her surroundings while also trying to remember what the hell happened last night (god, she hopes Killian is alright). The place is pretty nondescript, with light streaming in from windows far above her head that have dust particles floating through the sunny streams, and several shelving units filled with various items that she can’t identify. She assumes she’s in a warehouse of some kind. The question is, why is she here?

There is no one around, no one waiting for her to wake up, which she finds odd. If you go to all the trouble to kidnap someone, there must be a reason, and usually they can’t wait for their hostage to wake up so they can monologue all about their plans (at least, that’s been her experience in the past). But since no one is around, Emma immediately gets to work twisting her hands to try and loosen the ropes that bind her. Using ropes and not zip ties really should have been her first indication as to who was holding her captive, but she’s so busy looking out for anyone else while trying to get her hands free that she really doesn’t take any time to think about what the ropes give away. And it’s also why, despite the fact that she was attempting to look around for her captor, she fails to hear anyone coming from behind her until his voice is practically in her ear.

“Ah, the princess awakens,” a cool, deep, British voice says from behind her. Emma’s hackles are immediately raised as she recognizes the voice of her arch nemesis.

“Hello, Captain,” she says in a menacing voice.

He saunters in front of her with one eyebrow raised over the top of his mask. She’s always had to give him credit for his villain wardrobe. He has a very authentic pirate costume, what with the black linen shirts that were barely buttoned up showing off his impressive thatch of chest hair, and the beautifully embroidered vests he favored, the leather pants, and of course, his piece de resistance, the leather duster that has to weigh at least 30 pounds if not more (but looks fantastic flowing behind him during their mid-air battles, not that she was looking). He wears a simple black mask over his eyes and a black scarf over the top of his head to hide his hair. He reminds Emma of a more swashbuckling Westley from The Princess Bride.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me?” he says, giving a little bow. Shit! Emma realizes too late that she, Emma Nolan, has never actually met The Captain.

“I’m not stupid,” she snaps, still trying to twist her hands, though more discreetly now that her captor has shown up. “I watch the news. And I work for the paper.” She gives him her best scowl of disapproval.

“Yes, darling,” he says, clapping his hands together in what makes a hollow sound that does not reverberate around the quiet warehouse like she expected it to. Probably due to the black leather gloves he always sports. “The famous Emma Nolan.”

“I’m not famous,” she says quickly, wondering what type of game he’s playing.

“Emma Nolan,” he repeats. “28-years-old. Abandoned at birth. Went through a series of foster and group homes before finally getting adopted by Mary Margaret and David Nolan at the age of 12. Went to Boston University for a journalism degree, but currently works as a photographer for the Boston Globe, where she’s most ‘famously’ known for taking pictures of the elusive White Swan.” The Captain gives an evil smile right then, as if he’s caught her in the act of something. Emma immediately freezes up as if she too has been caught doing something she shouldn’t. After all, The Captain has no idea that Emma Nolan is the alter ego of the superhero, White Swan, his arch enemy.

He looks at her quizzically while tapping his fingers together in a classic villain pose, the fingers tapping under his chin as if deep in thought. His eyes keep darting about as though he’s looking for someone else. Maybe he thinks by kidnapping her White Swan will come and rescue her? While she does have magic (and the ability to walk on water, and fly, and morph into any outfit she wants) she can’t use it right now without giving herself away. She’s going to have to use her own brute strength to get herself out of this mess. She looks back up at The Captain and he’s still deep in thought, his fingers still tap, tap, tapping. Click, click, clicking.

Clicking?

She hears the clicking before she registers what it is. In their battles it is always so noisy, it would be impossible to hear the almost insect-like sound she is now hearing. Emma finally realizes it is coming from his hand.

No!

Not from his hand!

It is his hand.

Fuck! It’s so obvious now that he has a mechanical hand in his glove. Put that together with the all too familiar blue eyes, scruffy beard, British accent, and what Emma is sure are dark locks underneath his head scarf, and it all adds up to “Killian?” she wonders aloud.

He tries to ignore her, but Emma can see that slight tension that courses through his body when she says his name.

“Killian!” she says, a little more forcefully now. She’s on the verge of tears because she desperately doesn’t want this to be true. Her kind, sweet, friend couldn’t be this crass, cold, calculating villain.

The minute The Captain turns to look at her, though, all hope of her being mistaken flies out the window as she recognizes the sullen expression she’s seen on his face a million times.

“Emma, I…” but then he suddenly stands up straight, and his expression hardens before The Captain is in full command. A cocky smirk spreads over his face and he slowly starts pulling the fingers off of the glove on his false hand until Emma clearly sees the metal gleaming.

“You always were a smart one, Emma. Too smart for your own good.” He throws the leather gloves to the ground and flexes the metal appendage, the clicking like nails on a chalkboard to Emma’s ears. “Though, not smart enough. Who would ever think that Killian Jones, writer for the Boston Globe, and Emma Nolan’s puppy dog, would also be that dashing rapscallion, The Captain?” He flashes another cocky grin at her.

“Scoundrel is more like it,” she huffs, still trying to take in the fact that her best friend and permanent resident of some of her more naughty dreams is also her arch enemy. “What do you want with me?” she asks sadly and with an edge of fear. Is it possible he’s figured out who she is?

“I want White Swan. I want to hurt her like she’s hurt me,” he says simply while biting his lip. Emma’s heart is beating frantically in her chest. He moves right into her space, his lips practically on hers. How many times has she imagined kissing those lips? “You are basically her exclusive photographer. I want you to tell me her secret identity so I can be done with her once and for all.” Emma’s heart drops in her chest, because this is the one thing she can’t give him. She can’t tell her arch enemy that he has, in fact, captured his prey, only as her secret identity. So she decides to play on her strengths, because even as Emma Nolan, she’s not only a smart cookie, but a tough one as well.

Emma gives The Captain a smile, as if she will tell him what he wants to hear, then she rears her head back and head butts him.

“OW!” He screams holding his nose which is now gushing blood. Emma’s pretty sure she broke it. “What the fuck was that for?” He sounds so much like her Killian at this moment and not like The Captain that she almost hesitates to continue on with her plan. His blue eyes look up at her, the spark she’s used to seeing in them has returned. He’s looking at her like he has no idea what she’s doing there, but she doesn’t have time for The Captain’s theatrics, because she’s almost got her hands free from the ropes.

“Emma?” he asks, his voice muffled through his hand. He’s looking around the room as if it’s the first time he’s seen it and hasn’t been holding her captive for however long they’ve been here. He looks down and notices what he’s wearing, again with a look of surprise. His eyes are comically wide behind his mask and he jerks his head back up, probably from the pain in his nose. “Love? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Emma asks incredulously. “What’s going on?” She asks again, her voice getting more hysterical. “Apparently you’re The fucking Captain and you’ve kidnapped me to get information on White Swan. That’s what’s going on!” Killian shakes his head again as if trying to clear water in his ears. He sweeps the scarf over his head revealing his dark hair sticking up in all directions, just the way she likes it.

No! She needs to focus on freeing herself and not lusting over Killian’s hair. This would be so much easier if she could use her magic.

Killian is staring at her, his eyes showing a sadness Emma’s only seen once before, when his brother, Liam died. Is that when he turned into a villain? Emma tries to think how long it’s been since The Captain has been on the scene while she continues to try and free her hands. She’s so close now.

Liam died three years ago; a freak accident on board his ship where he’d been a Captain in the Navy. Killian had been his lieutenant, losing his hand in the same accident. Killian had vowed that someone would pay for the gross negligence he felt had happened. The Captain came onto the scene about six months later, now that she thinks about it.. At first he just seemed to go after government institutions. A pirate bows to no leader! had been The Captain’s motto. And Killian had almost seemed…. happier all of a sudden. Emma had chalked it up to acceptance of Liam’s death and the huge settlement he’d received for that and his hand, but could it have been because he’d taken up the mantle of The Captain?

How had she not seen his descent into madness? Every villain she’d come up against had an element of madness to them. Something that triggered them and then sent them spiraling into fanaticism. ‘The Hatter’ had his child taken away so he went after Child Services and foster homes ‘freeing’ the children while looking for his daughter. ‘The Evil Queen’ had felt that her fiance’s death was the direct result of someone revealing a secret, so she’d gone crazy setting fires to people’s homes that knew the gossiper while dressed in extremely gaudy clothes and a tiara. And what had White Swan done to The Captain?

He’d started out small; stealing files, exposing corrupt politicians. Nothing had ever been exposed about the ship accident though. Considering Killian Jones was a reporter for the same publication that Emma worked at, he would have had access to all the same information she did. And he’d definitely researched everything he could to see if that accident could have been avoided or if it truly was random. He’d never been able to prove anything, but he’d been convinced they were carrying something extremely hazardous that had directly caused the accident. But lately… well, lately, The Captain had been doing some villainous work that seemed out of character for him. She’d thwarted his plans to steal valuable works of art just the other day, and most recently, she’d even caught him trying to steal priceless artifacts from the Boston Museum. While his villain persona may have been a pirate, he’d never so blatantly acted like one.

“What has White Swan done to you?” Emma asks, realizing that with the exception of stopping his schemes, she’s never personally gone after him. At least not to warrant this kind of behavior from him. They tend to have a ‘trade barbs back and forth while he (she) flirted obnoxiously kind of relationship (and wow, Emma’s only now realizing how blind she must have been to not see that The Captain and Killian are one in the same). He’s more of a small time nuisance in a pirate costume rather than a super villain.

The sadness in his eyes shifts into anger. The wide eyes that looked horrified to see her held captive, now slits that hide the beautiful blue color of his irises. His back straightens up and the swagger comes back. He removes his headscarf from his nose, the bleeding finally stopped.

“Now, dearie, is that anyway to treat your best friend?” His demeanor is cold and menacing and not something Emma has experienced from him as Killian or The Captain. Killian is shy and sweet and doesn’t realize what a catch he is. The Captain is cocky and trades barbs with her as if they were going out of style. This… this is something entirely different, and Emma doesn’t know what to make of it. He has moved to kneel in front of her, but he’s far enough away that she can’t head butt him again. Emma knows when the adrenaline wears off she’s going to have a wicked headache.

“Maybe if you were acting like my best friend I would treat you better.” Admittedly, not her best comeback, but she is still reeling over the fact that her best friend and her arch enemy are one and the same.

“Ah, yes. Emma Nolan has to have everything figured out, doesn’t she? Can’t let anyone past those walls, no matter how desperately they want in,” he practically sneers at her at this ‘revelation’ about her. Emma feels tears pricking her eyes. Killian would never talk to her this way.

Never.

“Don’t act like this is something new, Killian.” He practically flinches when she says his name, like that’s not who he is at the moment and he doesn’t want to be reminded of that. But Emma doesn’t give a shit. She is tired, and her arms ache from being in this position, and her head is now starting to throb.

“Did you drug me last night?” she asks, the realization of what must have happened at the bar finally dawning on her. “Did you suggest drinks last night so you could get me in this position?” She’s the one being cold and callous now, but she doesn’t care. Killian was her person. The one person in all the world she could trust not to hurt her. He was the person she dreamed about building a life with, even if she was too chicken shit to actually make a move. And, okay, he didn’t know about her super hero persona, but she thought she’d been protecting him. Turns out she was still protecting herself.

A cold, maniacal grin spreads across his face. It makes him look positively evil, and a little crazy. “Oh she’s a smart one isn’t she?” Goosebumps creep down her arms the way he’s speaking to her. This whole night has been a bizarre chain of events. The fact that Killian suggested going out on a Friday was odd, because they usually went out drinking on Saturdays. Then they’d end up at one or the other’s apartments watching movies all day. He’d insisted on doing shots all night, which was another thing that was out of character for him. Emma loves shots, but Killian is a rum fan through and through. It also occurs to her that he was asking a lot of questions about her latest series of White Swan/The Captain photographs that she’d submitted. Not that that was completely unusual. She usually showed them to him to get his opinions on which ones were the best to submit, but he was extremely interested this time around about how she’d managed to get the pictures. How she knew where she’d be. Usually, he just made quips about how The Captain needed to get himself an exclusive photographer so maybe he could get a following as large as White Swan’s (something Emma is realizing was a big fucking clue since she sets up her phone to take the pictures, something she learned from watching fucking Spiderman).

But back to the question at hand.

“You never answered me. What has White Swan done to you that makes this so personal? How has she hurt you?” God, if she could only get this hand free. She’s so damn close.

“What concern is that of yours, dearie? I just need you to tell me who she really is, and then you can be on your merry way.” Emma’s skin prickles again. Something in the way he’s speaking to her keeps triggering it, but she hasn’t figured out exactly why yet.

“It is my concern. I’m not going to tell you who she is just because you have a vendetta against her. Half the villains in this town have a vendetta against her. But you’ve definitely played your hand by revealing yourself to me. Unless you think you’ll get her identity from me and then kill me.” She says it smugly, as if it’s not even something she’d considered, but looking into Killian’s eyes that are gleaming with malice, she realizes that she might actually be in this situation. She knows the second he comprehends her fear as the gleam in his eyes swiftly changes to something more feral, more carnal.

He swaggers over to her but stays far enough away so that she can’t head butt him again. “Have you always imagined this, Emma?” The way he says her name sounds almost menacing. “Me and you in a secluded room together? Have you had fantasies of me tying you up? Mine to do with as I please. Did you dream about kissing these lips?” He taps his lips in an almost playful manner before he reaches out toward her with his metal hand, and Emma has to physically gulp down her repulsion. She wouldn’t have minded it on Killian, but on this villain before her, she doesn’t even want to think about it. He must notice her discomfort (because when has Killian not read her like an open book?), because he pulls it away and almost looks upset. But Emma couldn’t care less because she has finally managed to get her goddamn hands free.

Emma stands up and immediately rears back and punches Killian full on in the mouth (hopefully bruising those lips she still would want to kiss). She almost gets ready to fly out of the warehouse, but then remembers that she is currently Emma and not White Swan, so she looks around to find an exit of some sort to start running toward. She glances quickly at Killian to see if he might be coming after her. He also can fly as The Captain (and now she’s pretty sure that Killian is right about what might have been on that ship if it’s left him with super powers), so she doesn’t want to be caught unaware if he’s right on top of her. But he’s still standing where she left him, again looking very confused, exactly like he did when she head-butted him. She should continue running, should proceed to find that nearest exit, but that puzzled look on his face is giving her pause. It’s happened twice now, the real Killian peeking out after she hit him, and she’s feeling that it might be significant.

“Killian?” She says it softly, almost as if she doesn’t want him to hear it, almost as if he’ll turn back into The Captain if he does. He looks first at the empty chair, and a look of relief comes over him. Then he looks over at her, and fear spreads over his face.

“Emma!” He says, his voice higher than she’s ever heard it before. “You need to leave. You need to get out of here!” He’s frantic now. He’s clutching at his pirate’s luck he wears around his neck like it’s a lifeline. Sweat has started to cover his brow. Emma wants to go over and soothe his fears, but she also knows that Killian isn’t afraid of much, and if he’s this worried about her, something is really wrong. “Please, Emma!” He pleads.

“Killian.” Emma doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, but something is really wrong with Killian, and she’s determined to figure it out, even if it means sacrificing her freedom again.

“Emma, please. It’s not safe for you here. He’s coming ..ahhh!” His pleas are broken by his hands coming to his chest and him doubling over in pain. Instinct immediately takes over and Emma runs to help him.

“Killian, please, talk to me. What is going on right now?” She is behind him, trying to get him up from the ground where he has crouched down. He is still holding his hand to his chest, his screams coming in waves, almost as if something was squeezing him.

Oh, shit!

As if something was squeezing his heart!

No! No, no, no, no, no, no!

Fuck!

She backs away from him slowly while he’s still gasping for breath. She should have figured this out months ago when The Captain’s MO changed.

She should have guessed when he stopped being flirtatious and started being cruel.

She should have known the second he called her ‘dearie’ and not ‘love.’

“Killian?” She asks trepidatiously. She’s backing up from him, making sure to put a good amount of distance between them. She doesn’t want him too close. Sure she’s managed to get the upper hand twice, but she’s afraid her luck may be running out, especially if she’s right about what she thinks is going on with Killian.

“Killian?” She asks again, finally gaining his attention. He lifts his head up toward her, his blue eyes colored with fear. Not for himself, she realizes, but fear for her. He’s afraid of what he might do to her. Because….

“Does The Crocodile have your heart, Killian?” She’s not even sure why she’s asking, she already knows the answer is fucking yes. The ‘dearie’ was the clincher. No wonder she broke out in goosebumps every time he said it to her. It’s creepy coming from The Crocodile, let alone from her best friend’s mouth. “God, Killian,” She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling at the ends. “How did this even happen?”

If The Captain was pretty low on the totem pole of villains, then The Crocodile was the ultimate super-villain. His skin was a shimmery gold and he didn’t even look human, hence his name. It had been rumored that he’d been alive for centuries, part of his super powers, along with magic, the power to blink in out of anywhere, and the ability to take someone’s heart from their body and control them with it. And now Emma knew exactly why The Crocodile wanted White Swan. Her magic was as strong as his and she’d actually managed to physically hurt him. In their last battle she’d managed to injure him quite severely. He’d been down for the past several months without nary a trace of him.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” Killian gasps again, his hand still at his chest where his heart should be. I didn’t even remember until now. He’s….” Killian grunts in pain again. “He’s letting me have my memories.” He falls onto the ground, now also holding his head as apparently all the memories from when his heart was taken come flooding back to him, a process Emma has heard is pretty painful.

“He will make me hurt you to get White Swan, Emma. You need to leave me here!” Emma is torn. If she could use her powers she could find his heart, but if she uses them, The Crocodile would know. He would know who she really is, and then it wouldn’t matter, he’d kill Killian as he’d be of no use to him anymore. She had to trust that leaving Killian and finding a way to save him would be his best chance.

“I’m sorry, Killian.” Tears have started to fall from her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Emma runs to a door she’s finally located on the other end of the vast warehouse. She discreetly uses her magic to open it and sees that she’s only a few blocks from her apartment, although she knows she can’t go back there. She turns back one more time to see Killian still. He stands up, his eyes now blank, The Crocodile having taken over again. Emma quickly closes the door and flies off before he can follow. She magically changes into her White Swan uniform (white bodysuit with swan feather arms, and a white swan feather mask) in case The Crocodile uses The Captain’s flying powers to come after her, but no one comes out of the warehouse that she can see. She breathes a sigh of relief and flies towards her parents house. She needs to come up with a strategy to get Killian’s heart back quickly before The Crocodile uses it to hurt Killian or come after Emma again.

“I promise I’ll find you, Killian,” she says to herself, removing her mask to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I promise, I’ll always find you.”

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssnsns21 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #csff #cs fanfic #csau #cs superhero au #White Swan #The Captain #kmomof4 art

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years

Text

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 2

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior@in-spirational @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch@allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @cssns @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @eastwesthomeisbest @dreamingdreamsalways @xsajx @justren21 @laughterandbooks @cocohook38 @therealstartraveller776

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

Other Chapters: Prologue 1 3 4 Epilogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So after the phone calls, the text messages started coming," Emma said, settling into her best friend's plush sofa.

"Texts?" Mary Margaret asked curiously before taking a sip of her tea. "What kind of texts?"

It felt like Emma had known Mary Margaret forever. Both girls were placed in the system at young ages-Emma, because her parents abandoned her on the side of a road as an infant, and Mary Margaret, because her parents both died of illness. They ended up in the same group home, and quickly became the best of friends. They were closer than sisters until the day Mary Margaret was adopted by Cora Mills, and then eventually, Emma was fostered by Ruth Nolan.

Even after being placed with other families, Emma and Mary Margaret kept in touch-letters, phone calls, even the occasional visit. On one such visit, Emma's foster brother, David, was home from college, and as soon as he and Mary Margaret met, it was love at first sight.

They were so in love it was honestly a bit nauseating.

When they got married fresh out of college, Emma couldn't be happier. She'd always considered Mary Margaret her sister in all the ways that counted, and now they truly were.

There was no doubt about it - Mary Margaret Nolan was the person Emma was closest to in the entire world, and so it was only natural that when the weird stuff with the cell phone started happening, Emma decided to discuss it with her.

"Weird ones," Emma answered, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa with cinnamon. "Stuff like Help! or You're the only one who can save me!. And then some of them were even stranger. Just...random letters and symbols, almost like someone was randomly pressing buttons on a keyboard."

"So what did you do?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa and turning toward Emma.

Emma shrugged. "I tried answering at first. You know, you hear about people who are abducted and, like, stuck in a basement for years and stuff like that. I kept thinking, what if someone really needed help and I just...ignored them?"

"And what happened when you answered?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Nothing," Emma answered before taking another sip. "No answer, just another cryptic text several hours later. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Either someone needed help, or someone was messing with me. I decided I'd call the number, decide whether I needed to help them or tell them to go f-" She stopped, glancing over at Mary Margaret's toddler playing with blocks nearby. "Well, go do something not at all child-friendly to themselves."

"Let me guess, your call didn't get through."

"Nope," Emma confirmed, "but it was even weirder than that. I dialed the number just after receiving a text, but it went directly to voicemail."

"But that's not possible!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"Right?" Emma said. "So I tried to ignore the whole thing. Maybe the phone was just...I don't know..glitching or something, although I don't know how a technological glitch could make phone calls and text someone. Anyway, for some reason, I just can't let go. Even though I don't know him, somehow I feel a...connection...to this Killian Jones. I just-I don't know what to do about it."

Mary Margaret was silent for a moment, taking several sips of her steaming beverage, before turning back to Emma with a cautious look in her eyes. "There is...there is another possibility, if you have an open mind."

"Just how open are we talking?"

"Pretty open," Mary Margaret said. "What if-and just hear me out, I know this is crazy-what if Killian Jones is contacting you from beyond the grave."

"What, like a ghost?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? One of the other teachers I work with was talking about this medium. His name is Merlin Emrys. Supposedly he can contact the dead and see ghosts and stuff like that."

"A medium? Seriously?" Emma asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Mary Margaret, you know those people are frauds. It's all about researching their marks ahead of time and then cold reading them. They're only in it to bleed as much cash out of vulnerable people as possible."

"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Margaret conceded, "but what if it's not? I've thought about going to him myself. If I could just talk to my parents one more time-make sure they're okay, make sure they've moved on, or whatever happens after someone dies. Well, it would provide a lot of comfort."

Emma's heart turned over, and she took her friend's hand. She knew how much Mary Margaret missed her parents. It was different for Emma. She'd never known her parents, only knew they'd tossed her out like garbage. She wasn't sure she even wanted to find them.

"I know you miss them," Emma said.

"I do," Mary Margaret said, "but that's not the point. The point is...what do you have to lose? Maybe this Merlin is just a quack like you said, but maybe not. Maybe he could be the key to unravelling the whole mystery."

Emma was silent for a moment. It was crazy; she knew it was. A medium wasn't going to give her the answers she needed if all her bail bonds tricks had failed her, but what the hell?

"Fine. I'll go see Merlin," Emma caved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the small, ranch-style house Mary Margaret had directed her to. She was skeptical before seeing the place, but now-now red flags were going up everywhere.

There was a huge, gaudy sign out front that read "Merlin, the great and powerful. Wizard of the unknown and medium of the great beyond." The sign-indeed the entire front of the house-was decorated with all kinds of astrological signs and symbols.

Was this guy even for real?

Emma seriously considered turning around and getting back in her car, but she'd promised Mary Margaret she'd at least check this Merlin out and give him a chance, and Emma was a woman of her word. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A moment later, an older man with longish, thinning gray hair and a rather unkempt gray beard opened the door. He was wearing long robes. Really playing the part, apparently.

"Merlin Emrys, I presume?" Emma asked as the man welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand.

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm merely his apprentice. Who might I tell Merlin is calling?"

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your all powerful boss didn't see me coming with his second sight or whatever?"

Emma stepped inside and the apprentice shut the door after her. "My master isn't clairvoyant. He merely has the ability to speak with the dead."

"Right," Emma said, not even trying to tamp down the skepticism in her voice. "I'm Emma Swan, and I'm here to-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't say too much. Merlin does not wish to be influenced by his clients. He wishes to sense the energy around you for himself."

Emma shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright," the apprentice said, moving toward large drapes at the far end of the room. "I'll be just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Emma looked around the room while she waited, and it took everything in her to keep from rolling her eyes. This guy was really playing up the whole "psychic" thing. It felt like she was in some sort of fortune teller carnival tent. All the signs and symbols. This guy even had a crystal ball. An actual crystal ball.

This trip was a massive waste of her time, but maybe it would at least prove to be entertaining.

"Emma Swan, welcome!"

Emma looked up at the handsome black man who made his way through the curtains. He was dressed in much the same way as his apprentice, only he wore a sorcerer's pointy hat on his head.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Full disclosure. I'm more than a little bit of a skeptic, so if this is one of those 'it can only work if you truly believe' deals, we might have a problem."

"My gift can withstand the doubts of the skeptic," he chuckled before reaching out and taking her hand.

No sooner had his hand touched hers than he gasped, taking a step back, eyes going wide. "Would you-would you care to follow me back to my private sitting room, Miss Swan? It's far more comfortable back there."

Emma cocked a brow again, wondering what this odd man was on about. Still, she didn't sense any overt deception in him, and he didn't seem to be any threat to her, so she shrugged before following him through the curtains.

This backroom was far more ordinary than the room they'd just inhabited. Emma took a plush armchair, and Merlin sat on a sofa across from her.

Merlin pulled off his hat and sat it beside him. "I apologize for all the theatrics, Miss Swan," he said, reaching for a pot of tea and then raising an eyebrow in question. Emma declined the beverage with a small shake of her head, and Merlin proceeded to pour himself a cup. "I attempt to play up to what most clients expect from a psychic. Unfortunately, most poor souls who come to see me are out of luck. The loved one they wish to contact has passed on. For most, all I can do amounts to smoke and mirrors. I could tell the moment I shook your hand that you were different."

Emma inwardly scoffed. She knew enough about cons not to be fooled by a clever con man. Made sense he'd use a different tactic with a skeptic than he would with some poor, grief-stricken sap who was a true believer.

"No offense, but I still think you're full of crap," she said.

Merlin smiled. "It seems those with the most energy surrounding them always do."

"So, what?" Emma asked. "Are there ghosts all around me or something?"

"There are a few spirits here with us today," Merlin confirmed. "There's one who's quite insistent. It's a man; looks as though he died rather young. I don't sense he's family, but you were close. Maybe coworkers? Perhaps friends?"

Emma took a deep breath, a face coming to mind. Surely he couldn't mean-

"I'm getting a G in the name," Merlin said slowly. "Greg or Gray….no. Graham."

Emma's heart turned over. Graham. Sweet, slightly dorky Graham Humbert. They'd worked together on more than a few cases, and they'd become good friends.

In fact, they'd been teetering on the precipice of possibly becoming more than friends when he died suddenly.

"How did you know to mention Graham? How did you know that name would get the biggest rise out of me?" Emma demanded, voice hard.

"I don't choose the spirits who come to me," Merlin explained calmly, "I merely give them a voice. Graham is pleased to see you again. He's glad you're doing well."

The anger came then, spurred on by the pain the memory of Graham's death brought back. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"He died quite suddenly, didn't he?" Merlin asked, ignoring her question. "I'm feeling a tightness in my chest. Something with his heart?"

"Heart attack," Emma confirmed tightly. "He had a heart attack right in front of me and died in my arms."

"He's sorry, so very sorry you had to go through that," Merlin said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "He never wanted to be a source of pain for you."

Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep them from falling. "Yeah, well, he didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Look, I don't know how you knew to bring up Graham, but I'm still not buying it."

"He apologizes he couldn't bring you a bear claw today," Merlin continued with a smile. "Oh, and he asks if you remember the day he thought he saw a wolf. He wants you to know he wasn't drunk. It really was there-in spirit at least."

Emma gasped, remembering the night she and Graham had gone to the Rabbit Hole for a drink after a long shift and Graham swore he spotted a big, gray wolf right there on the main street of town. Emma had made fun of him for that, telling him he'd clearly imbibed a bit too much that night. There's no way Merlin could have known about that incident. He couldn't have found it in any newspaper or online article about Graham's death.

Was it...was it possible this guy was the real deal?

"Okay, I admit, it's weird you'd bring that up," Emma said. "Let's say I believe you, can you ask Graham if he's okay? If he, like, moved on or whatever?"

"You just asked him," Merlin said. "He's here with us and can hear you. He wants to tell you that he is okay. He's more than okay; he's happy. He's moved on, and he's at peace, more than he could have ever thought possible."

Emma smiled, feeling comfort at the thought.

"There's someone else here with us as well," Merlin said. "Another male presence, but I don't believe you know this one. This one seems angry, desperate."

"Um...should we be scared?" Emma asked.

Merlin shook his head. "He doesn't mean us harm, only wants his story told. He's too indistinguishable to speak now, but I sense he'll be accompanying us on our journey today as well."

Wonderful. An angry, desperate ghost guide. Just fantastic.

"So, Emma," Merlin said, after a moment, "what brings you to me tonight?"

Emma pulled out her phone and laid out the entire story for Merlin. She told him about the calls, the texts, everything. Merlin took her phone in hand and gasped as soon as it touched his hand.

"There is a huge amount of energy here," he said. "There's no doubt a spirit has attached itself to you-or at least your phone."

Emma felt a chill. "My phone is haunted?"

"Not precisely," Merlin murmured, turning the device over in his hand. "Someone wishes to get your attention; wishes for you to help him, but there's something odd here, something I can't quite place."

"What do you mean?"

"The spirit is...indistinct," Merlin said, "hazy and just beyond my reach. I've never experienced anything like this."

Emma waited, her curiosity more than piqued at Merlin's odd reaction to her cell phone.

After a moment, Merlin's eyes widened. "Your friend Graham cleared up the mystery for me."

"What?" Emma asked. "What does Graham say is going on?"

"The reason I can't get a clear read on the spirit attached to your phone-this Killian Jones-is, well, because he's not dead."

Notes:

-So there you have it. For those of you who have wondered how this story could possibly have a happy ending since Killian is dead-this is how. He's not actually dead!

-Up next: With Merlin's help, Emma finds out how this is all possible-and she finds the not-dead Killian Jones.

Next Chapter-->

#cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #my franfiction #cs ghost story au #dead man's cell phone

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searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns, my beta @demisexualemmaswan, and my artist @cocohook38. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded.

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours.

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath.

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped.

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him.

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake.

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car.

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat.

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside.

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward.

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break.

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now.

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won.

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on.

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home.

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps.

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind.

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep.

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb.

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position.

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek.

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual.

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.”

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes.

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #ghost story #horror #strange lieutenant duckling #lol trust me #happy ending of sorts

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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I crave your lips as the moon craves the night

I crave your body as the ocean craves salt

I crave your love as the heart craves a beat

Alfredo Cano

This is my first CSSNS, I generally stay within the confines of modern work, it was only recently that I wanted to travel back to the Enchanted Forest realm for some of my stories, but Krystal asked me to join this year and I thought, why not stretch myself to try something different, even if I don't usually read fics of this nature, I wanted to branch out. Here is part 1 of my 3 part contribution.

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx

#Captain Swan #emma swan #killian jones #cssns21 #original edit #my art #stacy's art

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kmomof4 · 3 years

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Call Me Love: A new fic for CSSNS21 by @teamhook

Today is @teamhook‘s day to post her new fic for @cssns and I get to share the art I made for it!!! I am sooo excited both to share this with y’all and read her new fic!!!

Ao3 link here

Please be sure to give her all the love she deserves!!!

#cssns21 #fanart for fanfic #art by krystal #call me love #teamhook

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teamhook · 3 years

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Call me Love :: CSSNS21

Hello. I’m here to share my one-shot for @cssns

I hope you guys like it. Thanks to you all! Art was made by the wonderful @kmomof4, lovely shipmates and my beta amazing @ultraluckycatnd

Summary: Killian Jones gets a gift or curse it depends who is telling the story. He becomes a messenger of love and after screwing Snow White's match many years later he has to fix it by matching her descendant, a heartbroken Emma Swan. But what happens when instead of matching her, he falls in love with her?

AO3

FFN

Call me Love

🦢🦢🦢

Emma Swan was alone once more. The beautiful man that made her feel like a part of something was now gone. She had always had bad luck. No family or home to call her own. Her hope of a happy ending had been yanked from her grasp again. With tearful eyes, she said goodbye to the man she was supposed to marry and grow old with. There was no happy ending in the cards for her.

Emma hadn't fallen head over heels in love with Graham right away. He was the Sheriff of the small town of Storybrooke and she had been on the hunt for a scumbag. They got to know each other and before long she was working from the little town. Her job had allowed her to work from home. She did mostly research for her coworkers since she always tracked down her bounty.

Her beloved Graham had never said he wanted to quit her job and be a housewife. He had however suggested for her to take a deputy job at the Sheriff's station but she had said no right away with the excuse they would kill each other if they had to work and live together.

Now she wishes she would have taken him up on the offer. She would have had more time with him then.

☠☠☠

Killian Jones still remembers the day that changed his life. Sure, he had lived through more days than was natural and had had many life-changing experiences, but this one had invaded his life in a way he never thought possible. How was he supposed to know he was not dealing with an ordinary fairy?

He replayed the meeting in his mind.

"You should be helping me find my "happy ending" or something else equally as precious. Isn't that the fairy way.?

"It would be if I was a fairy." She morphed into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. The kind that left men speechless, including him. "Captain, I have an offer for you. I could help you get your heart's true desire, but in order to do that, I need to bestow a gift to you."

She had called it a gift, but to him it was a curse. He had mockingly asked her what he should call her and she replied coolly, " It doesn't matter the name you know me by; whether it's as Venus or Aphrodite that is not important. The only thing that matters is if you are foolish enough to deny me the consequences would be horrible for your health. But you could call me Aphrodite since that is the deity you are more comfortable with ."

Aphrodite had been the name she had used once she introduced herself. One warning is all she gave him: never allow an arrow to hit him, or he will be doomed to unrequited love.

☠☠☠

His life had consisted of heartbreak after heartbreak. His mum had died when he was young. His father had abandoned him and his elder brother Liam to a life of servitude. Liam, his beloved brother, died far too soon, leaving him alone and without his moral compass. He succumbed to his selfish desires: women, rum, and whatever his depraved heart asked for. Then he met his Milah. Milah had become the center of his life. The only thing they never considered was the desperation her jilted husband would feel, therefore making an unexpected exchange to become the epitome of darkness. A husband who would eventually catch up with them and require repayment for their selfish need to be together, ignoring the fact that there were broken vows and a child left behind without a mother.

Yes, Killian Jones had lived a long, unnatural life. He now stood in front of his new home. An apartment complex with a very special neighbor. Emma Swan was the name on the mailbox. He was told this one was special and he needed to focus on it, to make sure it was a successful match no matter what it took. He looked at his reflection on the glass door. His modern clothes made him look younger than he truly was. The black skinny jeans were tight, but not as form-fitting as his old leathers. The shirt was blue to match his eyes. She had told him that this assignment would help him redeem himself for the Snow White failure.

He walked to the elevator and pressed the button. He was still amazed by the technology in the world now. His mind drifted to simpler times, when he was a young boy. There was no belief in mythical creatures; mermaids, krakens, gods, faraway lands where no one ages, but now he knew the reality. They were as real as a 200-year-old pirate playing matchmaking for a goddess with a lack of a sense of humor.

He remembered his first assignment. A young girl with raven hair, big green eyes, and skin as white as snow. She had been a beautiful lass. He had paired her with a prince. To be honest, he cared little for her happiness. She was a royal, and frankly, he hated royalty. The match had ended in disaster. He was forced to see his handy work up close, the terrible way things had ended. The prince had decided to marry the match his father had chosen, leaving a broken-hearted young girl pregnant who had later been sent away to hide her indiscretion of falling for the man's lies. Killian's punishment for ruining a bloodline had been simple: take the Jolly Roger away from him. His ship was now a miniature held in the hands of a goddess, and he wouldn’t get it back until he could make amends. He hoped it was true. He knew this woman was special, and he was warned that mistakes would not be tolerated.

He had been successful at his duty. Throughout history and time, he had made good matches. He remembers them well. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Marie and Pierre Curie, Robert Capa and Gerda Taro. He had also paired Hollywood golden couple Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, Tom Hanks, and Rita Wilson both had been second chances at love. One of the most recent pairings was a young teacher and an aspiring actor. Killian knew that he had done a good job and although his first pair had been a failure the rest had been true loves.

He longed for the sea. His ship was his home for so long and now he had lost it as well. He had made deals with deities before. One that still haunted him was taking Ursula's voice on an arrangement with her father, Poseidon the Sea King. She had put so much trust in a scoundrel like him. He delivered her sweet melodic voice to her father in a shell, trapped for no one to ever hear again unless she agreed to use it to sink ships. He missed combat. The sound of blades colliding. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the salty sea spray. He would always be a pirate. His training in weaponry preexisted his life as a pirate, and it was vast and he yearned to wipe the enemy's blood off his blade. A pirate's life is forever; although he knew that life was no longer an option, he still craved it.

He looked down to where his hook used to be. His hook had worked perfectly with the bow and arrow he used to spark love between the couples he “helped.” The appendage had been a part of him for a long time, but the times were so different now. The bow and arrow were also replaced; she enchanted his beloved brother’s ring to use in its place for his duties. He was now to use the ring to travel, control time, or as the spark. The hook had also been deemed too old-fashioned to be believable for his assignment, and the hand he was given felt foreign to him. He had learned a lesson to never question the goddess, though. It had been trial and error in the beginning. He hated being under her control. He beamed from place to place as he was sent to spark love between couples all over the world and time. He maintained his youthful looks, and his charm had helped him ease his way into his charge's lives.

☠☠☠

Killian found that he enjoyed the little town of Storybrooke. The seaside location lessened his thirst for the sea, and it allowed Killian to keep an eye on Emma Swan from afar. He would introduce himself soon enough. They were neighbors for a reason. He still hadn’t decided if he should ask for a cup of sugar or not. He cringed at the unoriginality of the rouse. Alright, he thought to himself, tomorrow I will introduce myself to her.

🦢🦢🦢

On the other side of the wall, Emma curled into a ball as she watched home movies of Graham and herself on their first anniversary party with their closest friends. She still wore the laces of his favorite boots as a reminder of what she had lost, and what she would never have again. He had been gone for almost a year, and time was failing to mend her heart.

She wondered how she could still function when her heart was no longer complete. She woke up in the morning, dressed, and fed herself just enough to survive because she knew he would chastise her for letting the pain take her life force away. She hated the pity in the eyes of her friends, but that was her life now. She couldn't lose her routine too. She was a shell of a human. Work was especially hard seeing Graham's empty desk. They hadn't replaced him yet because the town was so small and there was hardly any crime. Her best friend Ruby had tried to cheer her up on many occasions, but who wants to be a third wheel?

Emma was looking over her mail. Yeah, she still got some mail as crazy and old-fashioned as that was during this time. She picked up the hunting magazines and added them to the growing pile. She had yet to rid herself of his clothes and personal belongings. He was like her, he had no family; that was what had inspired their bond. Robin, Graham’s best friend, had encouraged her to go to a support group to help her get back to normal, but she didn't like meeting people before and now much less. She didn’t need a bunch of strangers telling her that time would heal her broken heart.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian Jones had always used his looks to get things done and his current status hadn't changed that. He took great care of his appearance and health. He decided to take a run, and on his return, he would find a way to meet his neighbor.

While waiting for the elevator after he finished his run, he wiped sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, giving a nice view of the results of his hard work. He had failed to notice the two women eyeing him. The blonde looked away, but the brunette stared approvingly while trying to get the other woman's attention back to the display.

He felt a strange prick on his heart as he heard some whispers from behind him and turned to meet the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen. He knew who she was, but he had not realized how attractive she truly was. Seeing her from afar hadn't done any justice to her beauty. The wounded look in her eyes made his heart ache. He smiled as he scratched behind his ear.

“Hello, I’m your new neighbor, Killian Jones,” he said as his eyes met Emma’s, extending his hand.

The pretty brunette nudged the other woman who was glaring at him with thin lined lips. “Hi, I’m Ruby Lucas, and this is Emma Swan. Please forgive her rude manners, she's not feeling well. Oh, wait, are you the one that took over Mr. Miner’s lease?”

Emma hissed, shaking her head and begrudgingly extending her hand to take his. "Emma Swan, apartment 215."

There was a spark between them as soon as their fingers touched to shake hands.

Killian visibly flinched, while Emma chose to ignore it. They released each other's hand.

Ruby looked between the two and a small smile formed on her face. "It was nice meeting you. I hope you are not as grumpy as Leroy was."

Killian smiled. "I assure you I am not," he said as the elevator opened and he waved to them to enter with a bow.

Ruby giggled as she entered, while Emma rolled her eyes. He entered after them, opting to stay in front of them.

"Mr. Jones, you are already making a better impression than Leroy. You are a true gentleman," Ruby said, grinning.

"I'm always a gentleman when it comes to lovely ladies such as yourselves," Killian replied as he pressed the floor button and the elevator door closed.

Emma stayed silent in thought as Ruby tried to chit chat with the neighbor. He was a good-looking man, she was not blind, but she also knew that this could spell trouble for her. Ruby would inevitably tell their friends of the hot neighbor. She would just keep her distance from him at all costs.

The elevator dinged and he allowed them to exit first before following behind them.

Emma and Ruby reached her apartment. As they entered the apartment, Ruby turned to him, grinning. "It was nice meeting you. Hope to see more of you, right Emma?"

Emma grimaced. "Yes, that would be lovely."

Killian nodded and entered his apartment. This was not the way he wanted to meet her. He had it planned out and now it was ruined. How was he going to gain her trust enough to let him befriend her? He was going to have to adapt and come up with a new strategy.

As soon as they entered Emma's apartment, Ruby unleashed her thoughts.

"Ems, your new neighbor is so hot!!" she sighed.

"I'm sure Victor would love to hear you talking like that." Emma shook her head.

"Disapprove all you want Emma, but you didn't say I was wrong. Ems, there's nothing wrong with thinking the man is good looking." She gave Emma a sweet smile.

Emma ignored her as she walked into her kitchen to find a glass. "Do you want something to drink, or are you not done thirsting over my new neighbor?"

"Ems, I can appreciate a good-looking man. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. You can too. There's nothing wrong at all. Emma, you are not the one that died," Ruby said and as the words escaped her lips, she knew she had hurt her best friend instead of helping her.

Emma looked away as the tears filled her eyes. "Obviously, you are no true friend of mine or Graham's. You should leave," Emma said as she walked away from Ruby.

Ruby stared at the back of her friend's head, unable to form any words to alleviate the situation. "Emma, I'm--"

Emma turned and glared at her friend. "I thought I made myself clear. I think you should go and never come back. It's obvious you never truly cared for me or about the man I love."

☠☠☠

After meeting Emma Swan, Killian had a feeling things weren't going to be easy. It was clear her heart was broken. How was he to convince her it was time to move on? He thought the friend would help his cause, but now that it was obvious that wasn’t an option, he wondered how he should approach the situation. His other charges were more open to his true reason for being there. There was a time when the possibility of magic was plausible, but now she might have him locked away and throw away the key. Sure, that wouldn't contain him, but he was here for her.

He decided to find her match first and then have the man approach her. He was a perceptive man and knew she would have mile-high walls; part of him felt sorry for the sod that would have to climb them. Once upon a time in a different life, he would have been eager to rise to the challenge and be the one to break through. The pirate in him knew she was a treasure that should be protected and valued, rather than being plundered by some random bloke. He was not blind; she was beautiful, and the pain behind her eyes made her even more appealing as he found her to be a kindred spirit.

🦢🦢🦢

The day after her fight with Ruby, Emma decided to go for a walk to Storybrooke's Heritage Park. She sat down on their bench near the pond. She used to come here with Graham, and he would put his arm around her as they would watch the ducks swim in the water. It was such a peaceful place.

The only bad thing about it was that the park attracted a lot of people when all she wanted was solitude. She should be able to find it at home, but the memory of Graham was all over the place. Her always hopeful friend Mary Margaret had told her that someday the memories would soothe her instead of making her cry at the loss. Perhaps someday that would happen, but today was not that day.

She lost herself in watching the people running or just enjoying a nice brisk walk with a loved one. Soon, Emma recognized a familiar dark-haired man from a mile away as he was quickly approaching her spot. He seemed to enjoy running. She wondered if he was running away from someone at the intensity with which his feet pounded on the asphalt floor.

Yes, she had noticed his good looks, but that only made her feel guilty. Snapping at Ruby had been an instinct to calm her thoughts. She shouldn't be having thoughts about anyone. Ruby and Mary Margaret only wanted her to be happy. She knew this, but she feared what would happen if she opened her heart once more only to lose someone else. Losing Graham hurt beyond words, and she never wanted to experience that feeling ever again.

She noticed he slowed down as he saw her. He gave her a charming smile as he got closer, his hand scratching behind his ear and taming wet hair into place. She felt her body tense in reaction to his closeness. She knew it was fear, but she had yet to find out of what. In reality, she didn't want to find out. She got up to leave.

"Ms. Swan, please don't leave on my account. I just wanted to wish you a good day," he said with a small smile on his lips.

She looked at him and wanted to scream because he was just being nice. He had no idea of her argument with Ruby over him. It was a nice gesture, and she knew how it felt to be in a new place. She smiled back and offered, "Good day to you too, Mr. Jones." That's the least she could do.

His answering smile brightened both his face and her heart.

🦢☠🦢☠

It became a routine for them. Killian ran by Emma in her spot and shared a smile and friendly nod. The interactions had become friendly enough between them at the apartment building too. The bad thing was that things weren't progressing as fast as he and his boss would like. He tried to explain that Emma was not ready.

Little by little, though, he noticed small cracks in her walls.

☠☠☠

Killian had tried a discreet approach at first. His first choice was a man named Keith Nottingham. Killian had orchestrated a meet between Emma and the man during her daily walk to her spot at the park. Sadly, the man had been dismissed so fast, it made Killian’s head spin by the scowl on the blonde's face. A few more failed attempts ended the same way.

Killian was now a very frustrated man because it didn't matter what meet-cute scenario he thought of, the lass was not having it. He was a patient man but he knew he was running out of time. There was a constant ringing in his ears that only meant he was failing miserably.

Killian had met a gentleman that lived across the street and he thought he might be a good match. Unfortunately, he had to go out of town for a few days.

🦢☠🦢☠

On one of his daily runs, Killian's ears started ringing and escalated to screeching. He dropped to his knees in agony. He could hear the names of his attempted failed matches for Emma being listed to him. A warning he knew, regarding the consequences of his continued failings. His hands went to his ears in an attempt to quiet the noise he knew wouldn't stop. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on top of his own quieting the white noise. He opened his eyes attempting to focus on his savior's face.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked as she inspected him. Her eyes roamed his face for confirmation he was feeling okay when all he could do was nod in response.

He cleared his throat as he finally got up to his feet and she mirrored his actions.

"Maybe you should see a doctor about that. It didn't look pleasant," Emma said with concern on her face.

Killian smiled. "Ah, it's not a new affliction. I've had it for a long time, but never this badly, I admit."

"Oh, well, you should still have it checked out. If it has worsened, you should know why," Emma said. "Ruby's boyfriend, Victor Whale, is the doctor on call in the ER."

"I will, but I don't think it's an emergency. Thank you for your concern."

“What are neighbors for?”

They stood in silence for a second before they parted ways.

🦢🦢🦢

Emma had been lost in thought the rest of the day. She had an inexplicable need to take care of her neighbor which made no sense. Okay, she was not an asshole so yes, she could care for him, right? It was perfectly natural to want to soothe his pain. It was because she never pushed Graham to see a doctor about his heart, and now he was gone because she didn't push it. She had on several occasions wanted to knock on his door to see if he had gone to the doctor, but she chickened out each time.

Emma had called her friend Mary Margaret to try to distract herself. For a second she thought about calling Ruby too, but she was still hurt from her words and she didn't need her to tell her how hot her neighbor is. Well, she was going to have to fend off questions from Mary Margaret about the fight, but she needed her friend to keep her from knocking on her neighbor's door because she was so concerned about him she couldn't think of anything else.

A few hours later, Emma opened the door for Mary Margaret to come inside but her friend hesitated. Emma quirked an eyebrow. Mary Margaret pulled Ruby into view.

"I told you she didn't want to see me," Ruby hissed.

Mary Margaret put on her teacher's voice. "I'm tired of you two fighting. Emma, you know she didn't mean it. We all loved Graham, but we also want you to be happy. You can’t blame us for that." With Mary Margaret's pleading and Ruby's guilt-ridden face, Emma knows they both care for her so how can she begrudge them? That's when she decides to let them both in.

Emma led them to the living room to sit down and talk. Mary Margaret shared some funny moments about her charming husband. They laughed goodhearedly about his antics with their dog, Wilby.

She would check on her neighbor the next day. That would be the neighborly thing to do, right?

☠☠☠

Killian woke up the next day with a smile on his face. He looked at the time, 8:15 A.M. He got up and dressed to go for his daily run. Perhaps he would see his neighbor at the park. He noticed she loved to sit on the bench across from the pond.

Sure enough, he spotted her sitting on her bench. He slowed down so he could say hello to her. He noticed another man watching her as well, though, slowly approaching her. Killian rubbed the stone on his ring to activate the spark and then suddenly there was a flock of swans attacking him from all sides, not letting up until everything went black.

☠☠☠

Killian woke up with a smile on his face. He got up and dressed to go for his daily run. Perhaps he would see his neighbor at the park. He noticed she loved to sit on the bench across from the pond.

Sure enough he spotted her sitting on her bench. He slowed down so he could say hello to her. A nice looking man approached Emma with a smile on his face. Killian rubbed the stone on his ring to activate the spark, but then suddenly an unknown man approached him and shot him in the heart. His eyes turned to Emma's location to watch her with the stranger until everything went black.

☠☠☠

Killian woke up and stretched in bed. He felt a little stiff. He got ready for his daily run. Perhaps today... he paused for a second. Somehow it felt like deja vu, but he shook his head. Of course it felt like he was repeating the day. He had been doing the same thing for a while now. Wake up, go for a run. Try and match Emma only to fail and then there was another day. That was his routine. He sighed and got up. Once he was finished getting ready, he waited for the elevator. He couldn't help but notice Emma was talking amicably to a man. He tried not to make it obvious he was paying too close attention. He rubbed the ring. The elevator door opened and he took a step forward, only to fall. Then all he could see was darkness.

☠☠☠

Killian had woken up startled. He had felt like he had fallen a thousand leagues into darkness. He shook his head; something was amiss.

He grabbed his things and headed for the shower. The water was running at just the right temperature, so he undressed and jumped into the waterfall. He sighed. The water felt bloody amazing. He ran his hands over his hair and noticed he was wearing his ring. He cursed and while removing it he accidentally rubbed the stone on his ring and slipped and fell into the dark.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian woke up and hesitantly got out of bed. Today he decided to skip his run. There was something off, so he would do the opposite.

The bell rang as he entered Granny’s Diner and walked to the last table. A blonde waitress quickly spotted him and came to take his order. His order was unlike his normal healthy eating. He ordered eggs, sausage, and hash. A tall glass of water to wash it down. He was eating his food when the ringing caused him to glance up from his food to see who had arrived. His eyes met Emma's and she smiled briefly his way.

For a second, he forgot he had a job to do and enjoyed the thrill of having a lovely lass pay attention to him. Then he remembered he had a job to do that didn’t allow him the time to fancy a lass, much less this one. He was supposed to match her with her True Love, not a dalliance. He was supposed to find the right man but if he was honest, the men available weren't suitable for an amazing woman like her. He had done his due diligence in his research and knew that any man that managed to win her heart would be a lucky man.

Emma noticed her handsome neighbor enjoying his meal alone. She wondered if he was as lonely as she was. It was too soon to be thinking about that, wasn't it?

🦢☠🦢☠

Arthur King

Killian had found a gentleman that he thought might be a good match for Emma. Arthur King was his name. Killian wasn't thrilled, but he wasn’t ready to find out the reason behind his hesitation to find her a match; all that mattered was if he could make Emma happy. Killian had made friends with the man. He lived in the apartment building across the street. They had made small talk while on a run. He was single and was interested in finding a mate. All that was left was the introduction. Killian wanted to think of a romantic encounter.

Killian was on his way to meet up with Arthur. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he looked both ways on the empty street to cross. He noticed Arthur was about to reach Granny’s door and he could also see the blonde beauty about to exit the diner. Killian rubbed his ring as Emma opened the door and Arthur arrived. Not expecting the door to be opened as quickly as it had been, Emma’s coffee flew onto Arthur’s brand new suit. Killian was mid street, yet could hear the expletives that left Arthur’s mouth that should never be directed to a lady. The last thing Killian Jones saw before the car hit him were the pair swearing everlasting hate between them. After the impact, the car disappeared from sight.

🦢☠🦢☠

Jefferson Hatter

Killian met a kind, recently widowed single father during one of his trips to the park. The man had taken his daughter to see the swans swimming in the pond. He was the perfect choice, wasn’t he? He had a recent loss and that would be a good thing to bond over. Lost loves.

Killian waited for Emma to arrive. As she got closer, she smiled his way and his heart fluttered for a second, but she wasn’t meant for him. Villains don’t get happy endings. He then spotted Jefferson approaching them with a smile but Emma’s eyes were still on him, not her match. Killian couldn’t risk a missed connection, so he rubbed the ring’s stone, only for a cloaked figure to appear out of nowhere to stab him with a sharp twisted blade. As his body fell to the ground, Emma ran to his side with tear filled eyes.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian woke up startled. His hand went straight to his heart. He growled in frustration that the goddess was having fun at his expense. Was it possible it was a very realistic dream?

He got up from bed and started to get ready for the day. Later that morning, he had wandered into a kind old man's woodshop. He was perusing through the lovely wooden sculptures when the man's son approached him to ask if he needed any help. The man's son's name was August. He seemed nice and it was clear he cared deeply for his father. Good quality in a mate , Killian thought.

Killian's thoughts drifted to Emma. In his dream she seemed concerned about him. She had shed tears for him and part of him wished it was real. He wouldn't care about dying a million times if it meant she cared for him.

He stopped in his tracks at the thought of whether she cared for him. Did that mean he made her? Did Cupid's arrow pierce her heart? Did she feel for him? He looked at the ring with fear. Had he cursed them to a life of unrequited love? He hadn't wanted to admit that he felt jealousy at the thought of her finding love with anyone else. What was he supposed to do? His job was clear, he had to help her find love, but if she had feelings for him, could he still match her? Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do? He knew that Aphrodite would not tolerate another mistake. She was frustrated with his progress and had warned him of the importance of this match. His punishment would never end. Perhaps he was worrying over nothing since it was a dream. It had to have been simply a dream

He would find a way to match Emma and August Booth. She would have a happy ending and he would disappear from her life.

🦢🦢🦢

Emma woke up breathing hard with unshed tears in her eyes. The dream had been so real, but what surprised her the most was the ache in her heart at the thought of a life without her neighbor. How could have he come to hold a place in her heart? They had been cordial at most, but there was something about him she couldn't help but think that made him a kindred spirit. They understood each other without even saying words.

🦢☠🦢☠

The goddess sighed as she considered her next step. She remembered the day she appeared to the pirate captain. Normally she would avoid showing herself to mortals, but she knew there was more to the man than vengeance. His heart had a great capacity for love and she wanted to remind him of the joys of love. The problem was that he was a stubborn man and still couldn't see the gift she had given him. A chance of love. The fool had kept trying to match the poor girl with the wrong men and she admits she had some fun with the punishment of the reset of the day with a little death, but she was quickly losing her patience. The things she did for love.

🦢☠🦢☠

August Booth

Killian had placed a special order for a beautiful wooden miniature replica of his beloved Jolly Roger. Sadly, the real thing was held hostage as an incentive and reminder to not get on the wrong side of the goddess. He flinched at the thought. He had arranged for the delivery to be done when he knew Emma would be at the park, sitting in her spot.

He looked at his watch and decided it was time to leave. He made his way to the park and the closer he got, the more he wanted to turn back and not go through with the match. His heartbeat increased at the realization he had feelings for Emma and that today he would make sure she would fall in love with the woodworker.

Killian's face paled as he spotted Emma sitting on her bench. She looked beautiful with her golden hair up in a ponytail and she was wearing some dark jeans with her red leather jacket. He knew it was the armor to her heart, but today Killian Jones would ensure her walls came crumbling down. The only problem was that someone else would be the benefactor of his work.

Emma saw Killian approaching and without thought, she offered him her brightest, inviting smile.

He smiled back with genuine affection.

She waved him to join her.

Killian sat down next to her. "Hello, Swan. Lovely day isn't it?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Yes, it is."

They stared at the family of swans swimming in the pond.

"Have you ever been in love?" Emma asked without her eyes straying from the small winged family.

Killian turned his attention to Emma. His head tilted as he thought of her question. "Aye, I was in love once. A long time ago."

Emma nodded slightly. "I never thought I would be able to---"

"Mr. Jones." A strange man's voice interrupted her confession.

Killian turned to the source of the interruption. It was time. He discreetly rubbed the ring's stone.

With a sudden force, Killian was torn from his seat next to Emma onto the pond as he struggled to escape.

Emma jumped to her feet to rush to his side.

She tried to get him out of the water, but wasn't able to.

An invisible force kept him underwater until his fight ended.

Emma was finally able to pull him out of the pond as she tried to bring him back to life. She whispered in his ear, "Please come back to me. I can't lose you, too." She slowly lowered her lips to his and kissed him. A bright blinding light exploded from between them. Killian's eyes opened to meet her tearful gaze.

"I never thought I could let go of my previous love, until I met you," she said as she held him close to her.

Killian blinked as he realized what had just occurred, then his eyes found the goddess sitting on the bench with a wide knowing smile. "Captain, I believe you have fulfilled our agreement. You found Ms. Swan's true love. You will find your beloved ship at the harbor floating proudly. Remember, love is stronger than vengeance." The stone in his ring started glowing bright for a moment and then became a simple precious gem.

The goddess disappeared as she blew a kiss in their direction.

Killian couldn't believe his luck. He was out of his " deal " and was lucky enough to find true love.

Killian turned to Emma and said, "Love, you're my happy ending." A wide smile broke on his face.

Emma smiled as her hand lovingly caressed Killian's stubbled cheek as she replied, "and you're my happy beginning."

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scientificapricot @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @therealstartraveller776 @thesschesthair @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @winterbythesea @xemmaloveskillianx @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert

#Captain Swan #cssns21

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spartanguard · 2 years

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most wanted (10/11) [CSSNS 21]

A/N: Ahhhhhhhh I can't believe there's only one more chapter after this one!!! I really enjoyed writing this one; hope you like reading it!! Forever thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl and to @cssns for putting on the event each year, even if I am so far behind here.

That evening, they shuffled into the village of Meryton atop Roger after several hours of riding, eager for a meal and to hopefully (finally) get some rest. Longbourn was just over a day’s ride from his home, so he often used Meryton as a stopping point to break up the distance—and, if he was being honest, to drag out this journey just a bit more.

He tried not to enjoy the perfect way Emma fit between his arms, or the arrhythmia he suffered when she eventually nodded off and rested against his chest. (She’d apologized when she eventually woke, but he assured her it was fine—she needed it. He was still hesitant to admit how little he minded.)

That said, he was more than ready to get out of the saddle. He’d forgotten how laborious riding while sleep-deprived could be, and even if it had only been a matter of hours since they’d left home, he was keenly feeling each one.

At least departure had gone smoother than he anticipated. He wasn’t sure how Alice would take their leaving after such a short stay, but she’d been unusually accepting of it—nearly optimistic, even. “I know we’ll be together again soon,” she’d told him; her maturity toward the situation was appreciated, but also reminded him that his little girl was growing up, which brought on an entirely different slew of emotions.

“But Papa, please be careful; don’t get hurt,” she’d also said during their lengthy goodbye hug.

He wondered if she’d picked up on his emotional unsteadiness, particularly where Emma was concerned; Belle had obviously said as much to him. “I’ll try, starfish,” he promised her.

He’d been busy packing Roger’s saddlebags with a few days’ worth of provisions while Alice and Emma had their goodbye, mainly so as not to intrude, but what he observed seemed to be an amicable parting. Honestly, that was all he’d hoped for.

They’d spent a bit of time on the ride going over their plan for once they got to Longbourn, but other than that (and the aforementioned closeness), it was an uneventful journey and they were ready for this leg to be over. Thankfully, Roger knew the way to the stable he was usually boarded at and stopped there without being directed.

“Hey there, Mister Rogers,” the stable lad called out, and Killian winced; he hadn’t forgotten that he used the pseudonym in Meryton, but he had failed to mention it to Emma—who promptly stiffened in his hold, but said nothing.

The boy walked up and grabbed Roger’s reins, but waited for them to dismount before leading the steed away. “Just the one night, sir?” he asked after Killian helped Emma down, who was noticeably not making eye contact.

“Aye; we’ll be gone by mid morning.”

A quick salute from the lad confirmed the arrangement and he led Roger away, while Killian turned back to Emma. She was giving him a slightly wry, though vaguely accusing, look from under her lashes. He knew he should apologize for the apparent jolt it gave her, but Meryton, despite its small size, wasn’t as safe as it might seem; it was a conversation to be held away from listening ears.

Instead, he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment and offered her his arm, which she took. And he led them down the dusty main street, looking to all the world like a couple simply stopping for a night’s rest while on holiday. (If only.)

They didn’t have to walk far before they arrived at their next destination: an unassuming inn with an ordinary tavern on the ground floor. A sign hung above the entrance, but whatever it said had long worn off, other than the faint outline of a mug. “This is it?” Emma commented before he opened the weathered but sturdy door.

“Aye; it’s not Granny’s, but it serves its purpose,” he answered. With any luck, the mattresses were fresh.

“She does set the bar pretty high.”

“Incredibly.”

They managed to get the attention of the barkeep inside despite the fact the dining area was mostly full. And thankfully, there was still a room available to rent—although only one. He’d deal with that issue later, and went ahead and signed the guest book where indicated, then passed the pen to Emma.

She quickly filled in the spot next to his (fake) name, with one of her own: Eva Plover. It seemed like whatever shock she had earlier had dissipated, and that she’d picked up on his cue—or, more likely, was going to use a false name anyways, as Emma Swan would certainly have drawn undue, unwanted attention.

Actually, that was part of why he’d chosen this inn: despite its innocent appearance, it was one of the best spots in the kingdom to pick up on any gossip of the realm’s seedy underbelly. Which also meant that anyone hoping to keep a low profile needed to take extra precaution. As far as the world was concerned, Killian Jones had never set foot in the establishment, whereas Ian Rogers was a repeat customer.

After they were checked in and he pocketed the key, they found a seat at an empty table to one side of the dining room, enough out of the way to avoid attention but where he’d still be able to hear anything interesting.

A harried waitress came by shortly with mugs of ale, and dashed off just as quickly after taking their order, though he had little hope of it being soon fulfilled.

At least they weren’t in any hurry. The hum of conversation surrounded them; it was just a matter of catching the name they needed to hear.

“How did you even find this place?” Emma asked, then took a sip of her ale—and winced. “Does that even count as beer?”

He chuckled. “It’s heavily watered down; you’d need liquor if you wanted to get drunk. Which is how I discovered this establishment in the first place, back in my more, ah, wild days.”

“When you were on the other side of the law?”

“Indeed, which came in rather handy when I made the switch.” He took a sip from his own mug, which was truly awful, but thankfully not potent enough to tempt him to any excess. “Don’t tell me you’ve never passed time in a bar like this before.”

“A few times,” she conceded, “but I was usually the lookout, or on the prowl; Neal was the one actually taking care of any business.”

“Neal Cassidy?” another voice chimed in; a middle-aged man at the next table over was looking their way. “Not to eavesdrop, but is that who you’re talking about?”

“Aye; you know him?” Killian replied casually. He’d long since learned to answer questions—as well as to ask them—as simply as possible and let the other party do most of the sharing.

“Unfortunately,” he scoffed. “Bastard owes me money.”

“An old debt, I take it?”

“Naw, he bummed it off me just the other day. Overplayed his hand in a game of cards and I spotted him what he owed; said he’d get it back to me after he got back from Longbourn—that he’d have it then—but I ain’t holding my breath.”

“What’s in Longbourn?” Emma asked, though Killian didn’t miss a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Said he was gonna get his cat back. Surprised he even let it out of his sight; it was always crawling all over him. Think I like it better than him, so it wouldn’t surprise me if it ran off. Hell, I’d take it in if I found it; you ever seen it?”

“No,” Emma said quickly, in time with Killian’s “Afraid not.”

“You must not know him very well then; it’s like his furry little shadow.”

“We’re actually supposed to meet up with him in Longbourn,” Killian lied. “So perhaps we’ll yet get a chance.”

“Might want to hurry, then,” the man told them. “He was in a rush to get there, and you know he’s not patient. Think he got there yesterday.”

“Shit, he’s a day ahead of us,” Killian cursed, perhaps laying it on a bit thick.

“There’s no way I’m getting back on that horse tonight, so don’t even think about it.” Emma’s tone was warning, but he could see the mischievous glint in her eyes as she played—whatever character she was playing; they hadn’t established that in their planning.

“I’d listen to the lady,” the man said, chuckling. “But good luck when you get there. Do me a favor and tell him August says hi. And don’t give him any cash.”

“Will do,” Killian said with a nod as the man stood from his seat and made for the bar, likely to pay his tab. Once he was out of earshot, he turned back to Emma. “Well that was easier than expected.”

“No kidding,” she sighed. “Although, it’s a little funny to me—Neal hates August.”

“You’ve obviously met him before.”

“Yeah, but only ever in cat form. Like I said, Neal was the main one working when we were in public, and he was worried about the optics of having an attractive partner, or some bullshit like that. He said it was to protect me, but looking back, it was probably just plain old misogyny.”

“He clearly has a reputation as a bastard.”

“A well-deserved one at that.” She offered a toast, which Killian took, tapping his mug against hers. She nearly gagged on her drink this time, though. “Gods, I hope the food is better than that.”

“It…will suffice,” Killian replied, scratching nervously behind his ear like he usually did while telling half-truths.

Emma just groaned in complaint, but when their bowls of stew arrived a minute later, they did prove to be on the better side of palatable. “Granny could teach all of these barkeeps a thing or two about food. And beer,” she griped when she was done.

“Granny actually cares about running an establishment with quality fare,” Killian countered. “The owner here only cares enough that people spend money and don’t burn the place down when they get too drunk.”

As if on cue, some of the more sloshed patrons on the far side of the room began to shout at each other, and fists began to fly. But before any furniture could be destroyed, the burly owner had taken them both by the ear and was dragging them to the door. The bar was quiet for a moment, but began buzzing again fairly quickly.

With that excitement done and their only other goal achieved, dinner began to sit heavy in his belly and the ale was only making him more drowsy. Emma let out a jaw-cracking yawn as well that clearly indicated their evening was over. “Come on; to bed with ye,” Killian told her gently, standing and offering his hand.

She took it—and kept hold, as he led them through the tavern to the dimly lit stairs leading to the rooms.

He regretted having to let go of her hand to unlock the door of their assigned room, but she stayed close—likely as much for security as desire; he didn’t like the look of the man at the other end of the hall, and made sure to set the deadbolt as soon as they were in the room.

However, that confirmed the issue he’d been delaying thinking about, especially once Emma lit the oil lamp on a small table: though the room was tidy, it was small…and there was only one bed.

And while logically, he knew they’d shared closer quarters on his bedroll, there was something about the idea of that sole mattress that felt uncomfortably intimate.

He glanced over at Emma, and she too was staring at the bed and chewing nervously on her lip. Well, he was nothing if not a gentleman. “You can take the bed, love; I’ll be fine on the floor.” It looked…mostly clean.

“No!” she quickly countered. “I can just transform and take a corner of the bed or something; gods only know the last time that floor was swept.”

“But how well will you sleep that way?”

She shrugged in response. “I’ll deal.”

“I won’t. I couldn’t sleep if you weren’t either. And I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“So have I, but come on—there are mouse droppings in the corner. The bed is big enough for both of us; there’s no sense in us not sharing it.”

He hoped his subsequent swallow was subtle, but that was the solution he’d been hoping to avoid the most. Not out of any chivalrous desire or some prudish theology, but more out of self-preservation; a man of honor he may be, but he was still a man, and he feared that what such proximity might do to him physically could put him in a rather embarrassing position. “Fine. But I’m sleeping atop the covers.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but stepped closer to the bed and ran a hand over the comforter. “Okay, but only because it’s clean. Or, at least, it’s not dirty.”

They both quickly washed up in the room’s chipped wash basin, but he waited for Emma to crawl under the covers before he turned down the lamp and settled down on the other side of the lumpy bed.

Though he was exhausted, sleep did not come as quickly as he wanted; he was too aware of Emma’s presence next to him. Even when he turned on his side, away from her, he felt her warmth at his back and heard her own steady breaths.

At least hers eventually evened out as she drifted off. He cast a glance over his shoulder and could just make out the way she had the covers tucked under her chin in the light from the moon that seeped through the thin curtains. She looked younger in her sleep—free of the stresses and worries she’d carried for so long. And if this was to be her last night of peaceful sleep for a while, he’d not do anything to disturb it.

He settled back down and let her gentle snores carry him off to slumber.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Sometime in the middle of the night, something jolted Killian awake—a sound he was all too familiar with: the sound of a nightmare.

Without thinking, he was on his feet, ready to rush into Alice’s room and soothe her back to sleep. Until he remembered—he wasn’t at home, and Alice was miles away.

He turned back to the bed, and Emma was curled in on herself tightly, whimpering in her sleep. It broke his heart, but he had to hold back his instinct to immediately jump in as he didn’t want to startle her.

That said, he did hurry back to the bed, but was cautious as he knelt on the mattress. “Emma,” he whispered. “Swan, it’s alright—it’s just a dream.”

She didn’t hear him, though, and cried out and thrashed in her sleep.

Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said her name just a bit louder. “Wake up, love,” he told her. “You’re not alone.”

She gasped and her eyes flew open, darting around the room until they landed on him, and she drew another sharp breath, but then sighed. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s been a while since I had one of those.”

“It’s fine; it happens,” he assured her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not sure I can; it’s already fading, but they’re never very clear—more just the feeling of being left behind again.”

Given what lay ahead, he wasn’t sure he had any words of comfort to offer in response to that. He could only keep her in the present. He took her hand, which had just been running through her hair. “I’m here now,” he assured her.

She gave him a sad smile, likely as much as she could muster at the moment, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

They stayed like that for a while as she came down from the adrenaline of the dream. He didn’t dare move, but when they both yawned at the same time, that was a hint that they needed to go back to sleep.

However, when he tried to pull his hand away, she held on tighter. “Stay?”

He could have quipped about the fact that he’d be only inches away, but could tell that she needed more proximity than that. So he nodded, and did his best to slip under the covers while still holding her hand; the small hole his hook made in the blanket was hardly noticeable along the moth-eaten edge.

“Sleep tight, Emma,” he whispered now that he was facing her.

“You too,” she murmured, already half asleep, and he quickly followed her.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The sun on his face woke Killian the following morning. Despite the unevenness of the mattress, and the middle-of-the-night interruption, he was surprisingly well-rested and content.

He blinked his eyes open slowly and marveled at how cozy he felt, even though he could feel a draft blowing across his face. The blankets were evidently warmer than they appeared to be.

Or so he thought—until he felt the sensation of warm breath across the skin above his sternum, where his undershirt was unbuttoned. And became suddenly aware of the warm body tucked into his side.

As he became more alert, he became conscious of the weight resting on his chest, of the arm wrapped around his stomach, of the soft hair casually attempting to smother him.

He didn’t need to look down to realize that he and Emma had found each other in their sleep—he too had his right arm wrapped around her—but he stole a glance anyway. That peaceful look she’d had the night before was back on her face, and she was nearly nestled in the crook of his neck. It was the most relaxed and comfortable he’d seen her yet, and he hated that it couldn’t last.

He couldn’t help himself: he placed a small kiss at the peak of her brow, gentle enough that he hoped it wouldn’t wake her, but firm enough that she might still feel it in slumber.

Alas, he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. As soon as he pulled away, Emma tightened her arms around him and made a sleepy noise of complaint, but then blinked her eyes and tilted her head to look up at him. She made no effort to move, though.

“Mmmorning,” she slurred and gave him a drowsy smile. “Sorry if I drooled on you.”

“No worries, love,” he assured her (though he could tell there was a slightly damp spot on his shirt). “You needed the rest.”

“You make a pretty good pillow.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

She laid her head back down, and continued in a small voice, “Thank you for staying.”

“I wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

“I know, but—people tend to leave me. Especially in moments like that. So…it means a lot.”

Carefully with his hook—which he’d apparently kept away from her subconsciously all night—he nudged her chin back up to look at him. “Emma, you know I’m familiar with that feeling, too. But as long as you want me around, I’ll be there.”

She scoffed and gave a sarcastic smile. “Of course, I find someone who says that and means it right before I have to leave you behind.”

“It won’t be forever.”

“It might be.” There was an edge of fear in her voice, and he couldn’t blame her for that—prisons weren’t the most civilized places, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear of fights breaking out among the convicts that ended poorly. But, if all went well, Emma wouldn’t find herself in the company of the more ruthless felons, and wouldn’t be there for long.

“It won’t,” he insisted again. “And when all this is over, there’ll be a bed and a place waiting for you.”

“Why?”

He was taken aback at what seemed like a simple question, but in his mind was fairly obvious. “Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Seriously, Killian?” She shifted so she was propped up on an elbow, now looking down at him from above. “I don’t deserve that. I don’t honestly deserve any of the kindness you’ve shown me. I appreciate it—more than you’ll ever know—but I should have just been another job for you.”

He sighed, because she wasn’t wrong. But it was also too late to be questioning his motives. They’d come this far already.

“Aye, you should have been. And you were, at first. Until you weren’t you and I wasn’t me, and I thought I didn’t have to worry about protecting my heart. And yet, here we are.”

“What, in a cheap rented room on a crummy mattress, about to turn me in?”

She was deflecting. It was painfully obvious, and he knew it was in self defense.

“No, love,” he started, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and leaving it there to cup her face. “Together.”

And he pressed up to find her lips with his, hoping his kiss might calm whatever worries she had, particularly where he was concerned.

She stilled a moment when their lips first met, but not for long before she was pushing him back down into the mattress, deepening the kiss.

It was certainly a bittersweet kiss, knowing it’d be an indeterminate amount of time before they had another, but he was tired of fighting his feelings, and it was apparent that Emma was, too.

Though his body reacted instinctively to the sensation of a woman above him (a woman who was dangerously close to straddling him), they both knew it couldn’t go any farther. Still—they were going to enjoy this moment for what it was.

(The awkward moment he feared from the night before did inevitably happen—he was sorely out of practice in that area—but Emma merely giggled at his physical reaction and continued on.)

They eventually (regrettably) needed air but stayed close, and he pulled her back into his side.

“Thank you,” she told him. “For everything. In case I don’t get another chance to say it.”

“You will, love. But you’re welcome.”

“At least one of us has hope.”

“Hey,” he started, tone turning serious, and again nudged her chin to look at him. “I know you face an uncertain future, but there’s one thing I want you to be certain of: that you can always rely on me. No matter what lies ahead, I’m here for you.”

She gave a somewhat sad smile, placed another kiss on his lips, and said, “I’ll try to make it up to you someday.”

“Just don’t get in trouble with the law again and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal. But I’m guessing we need to get a move on turning me in for the trouble I’ve already caused.”

He grubmled. “Aye, we should.” The sooner they got to Longbourn, the sooner she’d be free—right?

After another lazy kiss, they finally got up and gathered their things, few as they were—the lone perk to this short trip. The cost of the room included breakfast, which wasn’t anything special (and again, nothing compared to Granny’s meals), but at least had some flavor and didn’t sit uncomfortably in his stomach when he was done.

He slipped his arm around her waist as they exited onto the dusty street. Even though it was late morning, the area was still fairly quiet—that particular neighborhood saw more action after dark. But that meant they were uninterrupted as they made the short journey back to the stable, and few eyes were there to judge how close they were standing or how slow they moved.

He was equally meticulous in picking up Roger and making sure they were ready for the next several hours on the road. But there wasn’t much to do—they’d done all the packing they needed to at home and none of it had been disturbed overnight; he was doing more to put the saddle bags into disarray with his needless digging.

His hook snagged on something, and when he pulled it out, the chain of his handcuffs was caught on the tip of it. He pulled them off, but held onto them and stared for a long moment—because, as much as he hated the idea now, he’d need to use them before they got to Longbourn. Though they were made of steel, they felt heavy as lead in his hand.

“Go ahead.” Emma’s voice drew his attention; he looked up to find she was next to him with her arms extended, nodding toward her wrists. “May as well get it out of the way now. Should probably put the magic-blocking cuff on, too—whatever you need to do if it helps my case.”

He couldn’t argue with any of that, but he didn’t feel good about it. Still, he went ahead and latched the shackles to her wrists, then dug the cuff out of the bag and slipped it on, too. He’d intended to wait until they got closer, but if her wrists were free of cuff marks, it would seem suspicious.

And without any further ado, they headed out on the last part of this adventure.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The road between Meryton and Longbourn was relatively narrow and quiet at first, which afforded them a last opportunity to enjoy their proximity. They stopped for lunch just before the road met up with the main highway and exchanged a few last, hurried kisses in the shadow of the trees.

But then the road widened and the traffic picked up considerably, more than they’d yet seen. For appearance’s sake, they kept a bit more distance—a bit more propriety—between them, lest anyone question why an obvious prisoner was getting cozy with her captor (especially should they run into one of Killian’s colleagues).

The avenue continued to get larger and busier as they approached Longbourn, and they soon found themselves on the outskirts, with homes and shops popping up and getting closer together, as well as the general sounds of civilization continuing to pick up in volume.

Though he’d traversed this street many a time, something felt different today and it had him on edge. He was used to scanning ahead for any potential danger, but it felt like there was something keeping an equal eye on them this time, even though he couldn't pinpoint anything amiss. Still—he stayed alert as they made for the center of the city.

Nemo’s office was in the heart of downtown, adjacent to the headquarters of the kingdom’s law enforcement. They weren’t technically officers of the law—more like privateers, honestly—but considering the amount of back and forth they did with the actual lawmen, their proximity made sense. It also typically meant that the area typically saw little trouble itself.

They rounded a corner and saw his office just ahead, so he began to relax a bit. But he didn’t fully let his guard down, and wouldn’t until they were safely inside.

And it was a good thing he hadn’t, because he had hardly reached the hitching post when he felt something solid, cold, and cylindrical jab into his side, just below his ribs. He sat up straight in surprise, pulling Roger to a halt.

“I’ve pulled this trigger many times, and I ain’t afraid to do it again,” the holder of the weapon sneered. “The fact that you’re a lawman won’t stop me either.”

“Neal, stop,” Emma said, though she kept her head down. Bloody hell. Killian turned his head to face the man, who was glaring at them from under the rim of a bowler hat. His vest and shirt were dusty, like he’d spent several days on the road, and the horse he sat atop was clearly rented, but visibly swift. And he was definitely Rumplestiltskin’s son; it was evident in his facial features.

“You really think you’d get away with it in front of a building filled with cops?” Killian warned him quietly, but nodded his head toward the many uniformed officers milling about nearby. “And I’m only the bounty hunter; no idea why you’d condemn yourself over someone you have no qualms with.” He hoped Emma didn’t think he was trying to redirect Neal’s attention—he was only trying to defuse the situation, and getting Neal to back down seemed like the best way.

“Fine,” Neal countered, unconcerned. “I’ll shoot her, then.” And pressed the barrel of his pistol into Emma’s back. “Nice to see you, too, Ems. Love the hair.”

Killian swallowed. Now it got complicated. How did he protect Emma without playing his hand about his feelings towards her? He got the impression Neal wouldn’t hesitate to use that against them, but also feared he would if Killian went too far the other way.

It didn’t seem to matter, though, when another gun barrel found Killian’s opposite shoulder. He turned to look at this other assailant, and quickly realized they were surrounded by several of Neal’s cohorts, and all the men had their eyes—and weapons—on Emma.

He could easily shout for help—draw attention—but he didn’t want to put Emma in the crosshairs of the (likely) ensuing shootout. And any weapon he owned was inaccessible.

They were stuck.

“Why don’t we go talk somewhere private?” Neal hissed; Killian could only nod.

But as the group led them away, he subtly wrapped the reins around his hook and wrapped his hand around Emma’s arm, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

The throng of horses and people made their way a few blocks down the street, likely (hopefully) drawing some attention—it was odd to see more than a couple of people riding together like so in town—and turned down a dusty alley, then through the wide-open doors of what appeared to be an empty warehouse. The barn-like space had a hard-packed dirt floor and all the windows were up high, only accessible by a catwalk around the upper perimeter of the building. In other words, a perfect place for doing something illicit without getting caught.

Once they came to a stop, the crew circled around him and Emma, and one of Neal’s cohorts barked at them to get off the horse. Based on the number of guns aimed at them, they had no choice but to comply; thank the gods Roger was obedient enough to not run off (though all bets were off should a gun fire). Almost instinctively, both he and Emma lifted their arms to indicate they meant no harm—though only then did he remember the hook at the end of his left wrist might say otherwise.

But no one seemed too concerned with him, especially as Neal approached Emma, keeping his firearm aloft. “Now what’s this I hear about you trying to clear your name?” he accused.

“I’m not the one who murdered someone, Neal,” Emma argued. “I’m not taking the fall for things you’ve done. I shouldn’t have to.”

“See, I thought you knew what you were getting into with me. I never proclaimed to be good, and neither did you.” He leaned closer and smirked. “I thought that’s what you liked about me anyways.”

Emma pointedly was not looking at him, her eyes cast down and her posture starting to curl in on herself with something resembling shame.

“Remember that night in Lambton?” Neal continued, stepping into Emma’s space. “That night we hid in the hayloft…the sounds you made, gods…”

Now Emma was squinting her eyes shut, clearly embarrassed. It was definitely time for Killian to interject.

“Bad form to kiss and tell, mate,” he scoffed at Neal. “On top of all your other crimes? Your mother would be so disappointed.”

As expected, that gripped Neal’s attention, who was now staring daggers into Killian (appropriate, given who his father was). “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Neal quickly put himself in front of Killian. “The hell you know about my mother?”

“Plenty. I loved her.”

Neal’s eyes grew wide. “It was you?” he said under his breath, and Killian could see in his eyes as everything clicked—as he realized he’d killed the wrong man.

He screamed in anger, and then his knee swiftly and firmly found Killian’s abdomen, right on the edge of his ribcage.

The world blurred then and Killian doubled over on himself and collapsed, trying to reclaim the breath that had just been knocked out of him as stars swam in his vision.

While he was on the ground, sputtering in the dirt, Neal returned his focus to Emma. Killian looked up in time to see him twirling his pistol before pointing it back at her.

“You sure know how to find ‘em, Ems,” he chuckled. “I guess I should be thanking you for bringing him here. But what I haven’t decided yet is if you’ll be dying alongside this guy. Because I can’t think of any other way to make sure you stay quiet, and he’s definitely not making it out of here alive.”

Nerves started to creep up Killian’s spine, a prickle that had nothing to do with his physical discomfort and everything to do with his well-honed instincts at recognizing trouble, paired with more than enough self-preservation. But his mind wasn’t clear enough to find a way to interject without possibly making the situation worse for both of them.

“You won’t have to do any of that,” Emma started to plead. “I won’t say a thing.”

“What?” Killian blurted out, looking up at her, but his voice was still raspy and neither of them noticed his exclamation.

“You can turn me in and I’ll keep quiet,” she continued. “Take the bounty for yourself. All I ask is that you save half of it for me for when I get out.”

Bloody hell—what was she thinking? Why on earth would she condemn herself like this?

Even Neal gave something of a confused look, though for very different reasons. “When you get out? In what, thirty years? You know how long a murder sentence is, right?”

“Not when it’s in self-defense,” she quickly replied. “The guy you shot? They were allies,” she explained, nodding towards Killian, “This one told me all about him, and they’re both scum,” she spat.

Killian was speechless. Just what was she doing?

“I mean, it says a lot when he was friends with the guy who killed your mom, right?” she went on. “I just gotta bat my lashes at a sympathetic judge and I’ll get a reduced sentence. And then I’m all yours,” she purred, putting her arms around Neal’s neck even though her wrists were still cuffed. “I love you, baby.”

Sounds of the city were still audible through the open door, but all Killian could hear were those three words, ringing in his head—mocking him. Bloody hell, he’d done it again.

He could feel a fissure starting on his heart, but that was unimportant right now. Now, he had to hope he’d be able to escape with his life.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tagging some (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbythesea @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #cssns 2021 #cssns21 #wish kj ff #most wanted #my ff

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eastwesthomeisbest · 3 years

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Just gonna stand there and watch me burn...

That's alright, because I like the way it hurts...

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Captain Swan / Killian/Demon AU for @cssns

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @hollydaisy23 @alexa-fangirl-forever

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exhaustedpirate · 3 years

Text

this is my late contribution to this year's CS Supernatural Summer! it'll be divided into three chapters that I'm planning to post this month. I hope you all like it and feel free to share your thoughts! also I owe my life to @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta !

Summary: Ever since he was a boy, Killian Jones could see ghosts. Some were kind, others were a nuisance and rarely, he found the worst of them. This time he meets a woman who remembers nothing, except her name. Together, they'll find out her story and help each other.

Word count: 8955

Rating: Teen and Up

tag list: @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @winterbaby89 @stahlop

read on AO3

Chapter One The Lost Swan

“...-aven was a matriarchy. That means that it was ruled by a woman.” Mary Margaret’s voice echoed through the hall from her open door. She’d justify it on the warm weather if someone were to complain. “That is until 300 years ago, when Queen Snow’s oldest, a daughter, disappeared a week before her marriage and her second born, Leopold, became King.”

He always admired Mary Margaret’s way of capturing everyone’s attention when she spoke. Killian wasn’t sure if it was her voice, her kind smile or just her overall posture but it felt natural to lean against the door to listen to the end of the class.

“King Leopold was the only king in Misthaven history. After him, his daughter Ava took the throne, restarting the line of queens. Until 10 years ago, when Queen Odette declared the end of the monarchy. But we’ll talk about her on Monday.”

As if on cue, the bell rang and a wave of noise flooded the classroom. Between the chairs and the closing backpacks, he could barely make out the children’s chatter.

“Before you go to your lunch, the Storybrooke museum wants you to participate in an event for the opening of the new wing about the Misthaven Royal Family next month.” The children had quieted down to listen to Mrs. Blanchard. “You’ll each be assigned a figure from the Royal Family and create a poster about them to be exhibited in the museum. Enjoy your lunch.”

The excited chatter almost drowned out Henry’s questions towards his teacher. Thankfully, the wave of children quickly emptied from the classroom and Killian could hear the boy’s excitement.

“Do you think they ever found out what happened to the princess? What do you think happened?” Henry had barely paused for breath and his face was approaching the color of the apples adorning Mary Margaret’s desk.

Endlessly endeared, the teacher merely smiled and Killian couldn’t help but mimic her. There was something so incredibly pure and likeable about Henry Mills that no one could explain.

“There was never an official story, but I think,” Mary Margaret began with that whimsical twinkle in her eyes, “that the princess was in love with someone she couldn’t marry so she fled the castle to be with him and they lived out the rest of their days in a cabin by the sea with their children and grandchildren.” Even Killian heard the wistful sigh coming from the teacher.

“Are you ready for lunch?” Killian interrupted before Mary Margaret decided to carry on her tale in embarrassing detail.

Both teacher and student turned to him from where he leaned on the door, both surprised at the interruption.

“Oh, yes! Time for lunch.”

“I can’t wait for this project. See you on Monday, Mrs. Blanchard,” Henry called as he rushed from the classroom but not without stopping by Killian. “Bye, Mr. Jones.”

“Have a fun weekend, lad.” And because he wanted to see the boy smile, he ruffled his hair. It never failed.

.-.

The smell of the flowers was growing intoxicating. The whip of the grass against her legs was starting to hurt. The river was no longer refreshing, but seemed eager to pull her in and keep her in its cool waters.

She wandered back and forth until she could no longer stand and sitting was torture.

There was nothing for her there but nowhere else to go.

.-.

“Do you really believe that fairytale?” Killian couldn’t help but ask as they made their way off of the school premises. “She probably died of a flu and the royal family hid it to keep their reputation.”

As usual, his skepticism was met with amusement.

“You spend your days surrounded by fantastic stories and you draw the line at a princess wanting to escape royal life for true love?”

“The library has more than just works of fiction,” he defended, ignoring her barely concealed eye roll. “I’m just being realistic.”

“Sure, you could be a realist or you could choose to take a leap of faith and believe in love.” Her almost annoying optimism never dimmed and perhaps that was the reason Killian considered her one of his closest friends. “It shouldn’t be so difficult for you considering your gift.”

“That’s different. I can see it.” And before Mary Margaret could give her predictable counter argument, he continued. “And you believe it because you are that way, a believer. Even if the speed in which you believed should concern you.”

That only made her shrug. “You were my friend and you had pretty solid evidence.”

“Is she trying to get you to believe in love again?”

The voice at his right made him grin before he turned to it.

“Aye, you’d think she’d have learned her lesson after the first 10 times.”

“Well, you have to admire her tenacity.”

“Is it Liam?” Mary Margaret asked with an expectant smile.

“Of course, he loves following us around.”

“I have to live vicariously through you, brother,” Liam added with a grin of his own almost at the same time Mary Margaret excitedly exclaimed, “Great! I have so much to tell him!”

As Killian let Mary Margaret use him as a front to tell Liam all that had happened during the week, he marvelled at the friendship that had grown between them. Despite not being able to see him, Mary Margaret had been so excited to meet his brother that it had completely enthralled Liam. In all honesty, it hadn’t been so much surprising as it was a relief - Killian knew Mary Margaret was likeable, he had just hoped that that skill translated well to spirits.

Thankfully, Granny’s wasn’t too busy and they managed to sit in a booth so that Liam could sit next to him. Despite his lack of physical body, Killian still cherished his brother’s strong presence.

“Alright, are you done hogging my brother or should I order for myself?” There was amusement in his exasperation and he relished the embarrassed smile he got from his friend.

“Now, Killian, jealousy is not a good look on you.” He didn’t have to look to imagine Liam’s smirk.

“Shut it, you git.”

.-.

The garden was beautifully eerie. Unable to leave, there was also no desire to do so. It had been designed to keep her inside and she let it. There was nothing except the overwhelming sound of the birds, the rushing water and the rustling leaves.

There was nothing for her but it was her everything.

But then she heard it.

A voice.

And then she saw it.

A beacon. A door.

She blindly followed it. When she walked through the door, she saw the sea.

A gorgeous sea that gave her a sense of peace and calm.

She knew she had left the garden when she couldn’t feel the waves as she did before. She knew her hand was underwater but she only felt the cold and the movement around her. Her clothes were not wet.

She tried to remember where she was and why she was there but there was nothing. Only her name.

Emma.

.-.

Like every Friday since they’d known each other, lunch ended with a short walk through the park before they returned to the school grounds. And like every Friday for the last 4 years, Liam accompanied them focusing mostly on their conversation without interrupting.

“David and I booked a week-long cruise through all the beaches in Glowerhaven. They provide entertainment and Ursula is said to perform every night.”

A gaggle of whispers flooded him and he turned to the Main Street in time to see a familiar figure being followed by a blue blur before his attention was pulled back to his friend.

“I just can’t believe that after two years we are finally going on our honeymoon.” Mary Margaret’s excited smile dimmed when she noticed his distraction. “Is everything alright?”

With a subtle shake of his head, he put on his best smile trying to ignore Liam’s concerned look. “Aye, just thought I saw something. It doesn’t matter. I’m really happy for you two; you deserve it.”

Killian let himself be drawn into Mary Margaret’s excitement as they returned back to work.

.-.

“Mr. Jones, I’m glad I bumped into you!”

It required all his strength to hold back the annoyed grunt at the principal’s voice. His arms were killing him, and his left hand was starting to cramp at the weight of the books he was holding. But he still smiled indulgently.

“Of course, Ms. Mills. How can I help you?”

“Follow me.” The haughty dark-haired woman barely raised her eyes from her phone as she started down the corridor leaving Killian to rush after her. “The children from Mrs. Blanchard’s class are going to participate in a project for Misthaven’s museum.”

“Yes, Ms. Mills. I know all about it, the children are very excited.”

“Exactly.” He suspected she didn’t hear a word he said. “I’m going to have some books delivered so that the children…”

Ms. Mills’ voice began to fade from his perception when he caught sight of something blue moving from the corner of his eye. He was too late to stop the eye contact he made with the hooded woman. Killian tried to pretend he hadn’t just looked her right in the eye but it didn’t work.

“You can see me!” He heard from the approaching woman. “You’re the first real person to see me!”

Killian could only shake his head and try to pay attention to the Principal and hopefully prevent her from catching him looking at no one.

“You looked right at me, why won’t you look at me now?” The woman kept talking, now walking right beside him.

He admitted defeat and turned his head towards her - he tried to ignore the wide grin she gave him at that - widening his eyes while gesturing with his head towards Regina hoping the ghost understood.

“What is it? Why won’t you talk?” The woman furrowed her brows and Killian could no longer hold in his groan.

That made Regina turn around and he quickly gave the principal his most charming smile and pretended there wasn’t a confused ghost frowning at him.

“Are we understood, Mr. Jones?” Regina Mills’ crossed arms and raised eyebrow could make anyone shiver like a leaf and he was, unfortunately, one of them.

“Of course, Ms. Mills, completely understood,” he quickly said, trying to appear confident.

“Great! I’ll expect you here at 7AM sharp to receive and organise the new books.” And with her most fake smile, she turned around and made her way back to her office.

Only when he could no longer hear the clicking of her heels, was he able to exhale. He was already dreading the prospect of having to work on a weekend when a voice at his left reminded him of the new company he picked up.

“She’s frightening, no wonder you’re so scared of her…”

“I’m not scared of her!” He tried to defend himself as he started to walk back to the library. “And if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have to come to work at such an ungodly hour.”

“Me?” He heard her indignant tone as she followed him. “How is it my fault?”

Killian looked around to make sure the corridor was still empty before speaking. “You kept shouting in my ear and I wouldn’t have agreed to something I didn’t even hear.”

“Well, you wouldn’t speak to me!”

“I can’t talk to you with other people around,” he explained, sighing with relief at the empty library. He rushed to put the books on a desk before stretching his muscles and massaging his left hand.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a ghost. No one else can see you but me and most people aren’t exactly accepting of such a talent,” Killian answered, his hand unconsciously skimming the scar on his cheek.

The woman, however, seemed oblivious to his tick as she contemplated what he had just said. He took the moment before she spoke to observe her clothing - he could now see that light blue cloak was dirty where it had dragged on the ground and hid her long blonde hair. She also wore a once white dress with wide sleeves. They seemed to be made of cheap materials and it was a style no one had worn in centuries. She had been dead for a very long time.

“What?! Are you saying that I’m dead?” He had never seen such haughty indignancy coming from a ghost as he observed her fists poised at her hips and her piercing glare.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Killian said with a sarcastic smile before dropping the books on a cart.

“Well then, you have to help me!” The ghost followed him as he wheeled the cart to a shelf.

“I don’t think so, what I have to do is my job.”

“You’re the only one who can see me so you have an obligation to help me.” From the corner of his eye, he watched the woman raise her chin and he grinned at her overconfident poise.

“Alright, you want my help, here it is.” Killian turned a simpering smile towards the woman. “You’re dead. All you have to do is figure out your unfinished business and move on.”

He was already turning back to his work trying to ignore her indignant sputters and whatever else was crossing her expression. The lights flickered above him once she quieted down and he stilled, expecting an explosion from the woman when her whisper stopped him.

“I don’t know how I died. I don’t know where I came from. All I know is my name.”

He’d dealt with ghosts all his life. Some were unable to remember their death and it always meant it had been so traumatic that they’d blocked it. But never had he dealt with a ghost that remembered nothing.

“Only your name?” Killian turned to watch her alarmed expression before she nodded.

“Emma.” Despite her confusion, there was strength as she spoke it.

“Killian.” With a put-upon sigh, he carried on shelving the books. “Guess I’ll have to help you, won’t I?”

He could feel her soft smile lighting her face and it was all he could do to return it.

.-.

“First things first,” he started later once they found a quiet moment to work through her situation. “You seem to have been dead for a long time. Cloaks and wide sleeves haven’t been in vogue here for...centuries, really.”

“Oh.” That seemed to catch her attention and she fiddled with the strings around her waist. “I did notice people dressed in a very odd way.”

Killian leaned back in his chair and tried not to overthink the appraising look she gave his exposed forearms. “Welcome to the 21st century, love,” he said, and Emma's gaze snapped back to his. “Our main issue now is that 'Emma' is a very common name. Our only solution would be to go through the census and try to figure out which one is you.”

“Would that work?”

“Maybe, it’s something we can try,” Killian replied before remembering that he’d have to talk to the mayor about such a thing.

“What is it?” Emma approached the table with a confused expression probably at the annoyed one on his face.

“Mayor Mills is not the easiest woman to deal with, that’s all.”

“Mills? Wasn’t that the woman you were just talking to?”

“That’s Regina Mills, the principal. Also a difficult woman but I’m talking about her mother, Cora Mills.”

“That is quite an ugly name, isn’t it? Sounds like something breaking.”

It was her utterly ingenuous expression as she spoke that did it and Killian let out a loud laugh before controlling himself. Emma seemed surprised at the sound but not displeased.

“I’d love for her to hear you say it.” He calmed his laughter under her amused expression before continuing. “I’ll have to speak to her about it.”

While Killian waited for the mayor’s assistant to pick up the phone, he noticed Emma’s curiosity leading her to the shelves. The light from the lamps reflected on the golden hair brooch that held strands of her hair. He focused on it, trying to figure out how someone who was dressed like a commoner could have afforded something like that. It was embarrassing how long it took him to reply back to Sidney and he was thankful that Emma seemed distracted.

However, when he hung up the phone, the embarrassment was gone and disappointment tainted his expression.

“Seems like Madam Mayor won’t be back until Monday.” He waited until she turned to him to continue. “I can’t do anything for the next two days.”

“We can’t wait that long, we have to get them now!”

Her determination was astounding and he felt drawn to follow her but he still had some common sense although he couldn’t help the amusement in his tone.

“We can’t get it without permission. Do you want to get me arrested?”

“No… but we can’t wait that long.”

The bell rang, startling them both.

“Listen, some children will be coming here soon, I won’t be able to talk to you while they’re around,” he explained, glancing towards the door. “You can meet me here later, alright?”

Emma looked at him as if she wanted to protest but before she could speak, the doors opened for a handful of children. Killian busied himself with them for a couple of minutes and when he looked back to try and communicate with Emma, she was gone.

He tried to quell the uneasy feeling in his chest as he sat back at his desk. Killian focused on his work even if his mind kept floating to Emma and her mystery. Never had a ghost intrigued him so. He wasn’t sure if it was her story, her beauty or the fact that she kept contradicting all that he expected from her. Despite her ragged outfit, she held herself with a haughty posture and underneath her spoiled front, there was the strength and determination of a fighter. He’d never met a ghost who knew only their name. There was no end to her mystery.

“Killian?”

Raising his head and for a moment expecting it to be Emma, he was surprised to see his brother’s face.

“What is it?”

“You were supposed to be home by now, I was worried.”

It was only when he saw the concern in Liam’s face that he looked at the clock and saw that he should have left half an hour ago.

“Oh, I guess I got distracted.”

Killian tried to ignore the inquisitive look he was getting from his brother and started packing up his stuff. He was surprised to find a book under his bag. A book in a different language, with an old brown leather cover and simple decor. Not something he’d ever seen before.

“Seriously, Killian, are you alright?”

“I’m alright, just…”

“Distracted?”

He could hear Liam’s raised eyebrow and teasing tone even as his eyes analysed the book in his hand. With an internal shake of his head, he set the book down and decided to leave it for later.

“Aye,” Killian chuckled, hooking his bag over his shoulder. “Are you in the mood for a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon and watching me eat pizza?”

“Very funny, but actually, yes. Maybe Jack Sparrow can put you in a better mood.”

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” Killian corrected with an eye roll.

“Of course, of course. How could I forget?”

“You do it to antagonize me, admit it.”

“I do, indeed.”

Killian ignored the judgemental looks he got in the corridor for laughing loudly. It wasn’t until they got to his street that he noticed a lack of a blonde ghost. There was nothing preventing his brother from seeing him glance around clearly looking for something.

“Expecting someone?”

“What? No, just…”

“Killian, you’re a terrible liar. Just tell me.”

Not wanting his neighbours to see him talking to no one, he waited until he opened his flat door to tell him all that happened since they had parted ways after lunch. He tried to keep a neutrality about him as he spoke but from his brother’s knowing look, he had clearly failed.

“So you’re attracted to this ghost… That’s sad even for you, little brother.”

“I’m not attracted to her!” he sputtered as he almost dropped the phone he’d grabbed to call the pizza place. “I can think that she’s attractive without being attracted. Did you miss the part where she doesn’t remember anything? I'm attracted to the mystery, not her.”

“She sounds like trouble. Are you sure she’s telling the truth?”

“No one is that good a liar and I don’t know, I could feel she was telling the truth.”

Uncomfortable with the truth of his answer, Killian focused on finding the pizzeria’s number.

“Alright, I’ll trust your instincts. Just be careful, you can’t trust people so easily.” Killian watched as his brother sat down on his couch with a self-satisfied smile. “Call that a life lesson.”

“Let’s be honest, Liam, anything you’ve taught me post mortem cannot be called a life lesson.”

He let his brother’s laughter ring out as they settled in for a relaxing night. His thoughts, however, kept replaying Emma’s smile despite his best efforts.

.-.

Saturday morning found Killian hanging on to his large coffee as if his life depended on it. Thankfully, the delivery driver must have been of the same opinion because there was minimal conversation while the books slowly filled the library’s carpeted floor.

Killian was trying to harness his energy to organise the books when the voice that had invaded his mind all night startled him.

“You look terrible.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

The smile she directed at him made his heart stutter and he was glad for the reprieve when she turned away to admire the new books.

“I thought I’d see you yesterday evening.” Killian changed the subject before finishing his coffee.

“Oh, I got lost,” Emma explained and he tried not to stare as she looked around the library. “A very handsome man helped me find the school this morning. He wore this very odd green outfit and helmet.”

Killian ignored the pang of ridiculous jealousy in his chest before he realised who Emma spoke of.

“Was he following a woman and her young child?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“That’s Phillip, the woman is Aurora, his widow. He died during the war in Agrabah five years ago.”

“Why haven’t you helped him like you’re helping me?”

“I’ve tried. He doesn’t want my help.”

“Why not?”

“It’s his wife and son, he wants to make sure they’re safe before he moves on.”

“Oh.” Killian could tell she was affected by his story. There was a frown on her brow and he was taken aback by his desperate need to smooth it out.

“Do you want to help me put away these books?”

If she noticed his obvious change of subject, she didn’t comment on it. Like him, she seemed glad to put that subject aside. Despite his offer, there wasn’t much she could do except keep him company. It was while she was attempting to move a book that ended up falling to the ground, causing him to hide his chuckle with a cough at her affronted look that Mary Margaret’s voice sounded from the door.

“Killian, are you here?”

“Aye, I’m in the biography aisle.”

“Great, that’s exactly where I need you!”

“Don’t let David hear you say that, love.”

As predicted, she rolled her eyes at his shit-eating grin.

“Hilarious, Jones. I need a book with the Misthaven genealogy.”

“Should be in the new stack, give me a second.”

He had barely noticed Emma’s gaze fixed on Mary Margaret until she moved to his side.

“Who is she? She seems familiar…” Before he could answer her, she continued. “I’m sorry, I forgot about your rule.”

“It’s alright. This is Mary Margaret,” he said with a smile towards both women.

As soon as she realised that he had been speaking to a spirit, Mary Margaret’s face lit up. “Is there a ghost here? Who are they?”

“As you can see, she’s a ghost enthusiast.” Killian laughed at Emma’s surprise and Mary Margaret’s tweaked nose. “Mary Margaret, meet Emma.”

“Oh, Emma is such a beautiful name. Where are you from? Did you die recently? Do you know your unfinished business?”

Emma’s dazed expression was worth the glare he got from his oldest friend at his laugh. With a reassuring look towards the ghost, Killian handed the book to Mary Margaret.

“That is very bad ghost etiquette, Mrs. Blanchard. Our friend Emma doesn’t remember anything except her name so I’m going to help her out of the kindness of my heart.” It was astonishing how both women gave him the same unimpressed expression.

“I can’t see you, Emma, but I hope you’re just as unimpressed by him as I am.”

“I like her.”

“Of course you do. Can you two stop pretending not to be utterly charmed by me?”

He hoped he hadn’t imagined the blush that spread over Emma’s cheeks even as she rolled her eyes before she turned to follow Mary Margaret.

“Listen, Emma, don’t let him fool you. He’ll pretend like he’s this roguishly handsome man that doesn’t care about anything and anyone but he’s actually genuinely sweet and caring.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the appraising look Emma turned to him but he knew his heart shouldn’t have been racing as he did.

“Alright, I don’t need you to talk me up and can you stop photocopying library books? I keep having to tell Leroy that you didn’t get your copies from me.”

“I could stop, but you love me too much to stop me. Plus, I need this for the raffle on Monday.”

“You don’t need it, you just want it.”

“And shouldn’t I get what I want?”

The charming little smile she had clearly perfected over the years did nothing but make him groan and roll his eyes. He wasn’t going to admit, especially to her, that his threats were completely empty.

“I really like her. Who is she?” Emma’s voice came from his left as he returned to organising the books.

“She was the first person I met when I came to this town and we became very close friends.”

“Is she asking about how we met? Let me tell it.” Her excitement seemed to endear Emma even more to her.

“And apparently I can’t refuse her anything,” he added with a resigned look and a shrug before turning back to his friend. “Go ahead.”

Killian saw how Emma approached the teacher with nothing more than curiosity filling her expression. Despite being unable to look Emma in the eyes, Mary Margaret was making an effort to look into the rough area of where Killian had been looking.

“About 3 years ago, this guy came into town. He said he came from Neverland, which everyone knows is a pirate-infested realm with a history of dark magic.”

“As you see, a great first impression,” Killian commented before being shushed by both women.

“But he’s right. Everyone started spreading rumours about him. There was even an article in the local paper about him. When he started working here, there were so many protests from parents that both Principal and Mayor Mills had to arrange a town council.

“They talked about how he was an upstanding citizen with no ties to piracy or magic and Killian just sat there looking like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.” Mary Margaret paused to laugh at the memory, completely ignoring Killian’s disgruntled huff. “Anyway, the rumour mill finally calmed down. Of course then, our dear friend decides to rescue a kid from the mines. And because he was Principal Mills’ son, he became a celebrity.”

“The people in this town are easily swayed.”

“After a couple of weeks, I found out he was my new downstairs neighbour and being the perfectly nice person that I am, I brought him cookies. He didn’t even open the door and I could hear the TV from inside.” There was a gasp from Emma that caused him to scratch behind his ear in shame. “I gave him the benefit of the doubt and basically cornered him at school.

“I managed to convince him to have a coffee with me and my then-fiancé. Safe to say, my charming husband and I ended up making this rascal our new friend. Sunday games, Friday lunches, you name it, he was invited and became part of the family. He was even the best man at our wedding.

“But before that, I found him talking by himself in the entrance to our building. He seemed to be having an argument with someone and the lights kept flickering. I thought he was on a call until he turned to me and there was no phone in sight. Turned out he was talking to the ghost of his brother. He told me over coffee how he can talk to ghosts and was just so relieved that I believed him that I just hugged him.”

“I was mostly happy that you weren’t going to have me locked in an asylum or something.”

“He was lucky that I trusted him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ever since then, I’ve been his trusty sidekick in his ghost business. We’ll never admit it, but I’m the one who does most of the work. He’d be nothing without me.”

“That is quite the story.” Emma’s chuckle filled his heart and he could feel himself blush at the impressed look she gave him.

“You’ve impressed our new friend, love,” Killian shared.

“Just as planned!” Mary Margaret grinned as she picked up her copies and put the book in the cart. “I have to run. Thank you for letting me copy the book and David wants you to bring beer for the game on Sunday. Bye, Emma.” With a kiss to his cheek and a wave over her head, Mary Margaret left the room.

“She’s fantastic!”

Emma’s awe caused a wider grin to grace his face.

“That’s Mary Margaret for you. A force of nature but the kindest person you’ll ever meet.” He smiled as he stored the last book on its shelf. “She’s like family to me and I’m honored that she thinks the same of me.”

In the moment of silence that followed his confession, he could feel Emma’s eyes on his face.

“Did she call you Jones?”

Emma’s new line of inquiry was so sudden that he fumbled for a minute before answering. “Aye, that’s my name, Killian Jones. Why?”

“I don’t know, something familiar about the name. Must be a common name.”

“I do hope you’re not planning on meeting any Jones better than me.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Hardly.” Killian grabbed his things to the sound of her laughter and tried to ignore the heat on his cheeks. “Alright, let’s sail away.”

.-.

It seemed that Emma’s company was a double-edged sword. While she was great to talk to, she appeared to be a magnet for other ghosts. Some were polite enough not to approach but others, like the sleazy writer who had died after his first bad review or the cursed carpenter who had died when he was turned into wood, followed her everywhere.

Regardless, Emma kept a polite disinterest towards them and once she shot them a glare, they were more than happy to leave them alone.

They had been enjoying each other’s company, as much as a ghost and a human could, until she returned to his flat with him and came face to face with Liam. There was an expression on his brother’s face that made Killian remember the long speeches he’d gotten when he misbehaved. Only difference was that he was now an adult and felt no need to cower.

“I’m glad you finally decided to come home, little brother.” His brother’s crossed arms and straight posture only served to irritate Killian more.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to justify myself to you. And it’s younger.”

“This is your brother?”

“Aye, this is Liam.”

“And I’m assuming you’re Emma.”

There was a harshness in Liam’s tone that startled Emma before she straightened her back and imitated his posture.

“Yes, though I don’t think my name is pronounced with so much disdain.”

“I don’t know how else to pronounce the name of someone I believe is a bad influence on my brother.”

“Liam-” Killian tried to protest.

“Were you this self-righteous when you were alive?”

“When it came to my brother, yes.”

Killian was speechless as Emma took a deep breath before disappearing through the door.

“What the bloody hell was that, Liam? She’s done nothing.” Killian threw his jacket on the couch, surprised at the anger in his chest.

“She’s not to be trusted, Killian. There’s something about her.”

While he’d usually trust his brother’s judgement, he couldn’t accept it when it came to Emma. “I thought you said you’d trust my instincts…!”

“And I also said that you can’t trust people so easily. She’ll lead you to your death if you’re not careful.”

“I can’t believe you’d be so arrogant as to treat someone I care for like that!”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and it seemed to surprise his brother as well.

“You care for her? You barely know her!”

“I...I- it doesn’t matter, I trust her and you should respect my decision!”

“I won’t sit by and watch you fall for someone you can’t have, someone who’ll wreck your life!”

“Then leave! I don’t want you here!”

Killian had forgotten how heart-wrenching fights with his brother were until he could no longer see Liam. Until he could no longer see the brother who refused to leave his side even after death. The silence of the house was deafening. He hadn’t been used to such quiet since he moved to this town.

.-.

The next morning, he hoped his brother would have come to his senses and returned to him to apologise but the house remained silent. Killian’s thoughts were a disarray of anger towards his brother’s actions and desperation to see him again while in the back of his mind, Emma’s smile and subsequent disappointment haunted him.

“I thought you’d sleep the day away.”

Emma’s voice startled him, making him almost choke on the coffee he realised had been poised at his mouth for the past minute.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me, you just startled me,” he defended dumping the now cold coffee down the drain before starting to make a new one.

“I came by earlier but you were still asleep.” Emma seemed comfortable enough to inspect the rest of his house.

“Did you watch me sleep?”

“No!” Emma quickly lied with a smirk on her face. “But you should probably invest in proper sleeping garments.”

Her pointed look at his chest made him blush and clear his throat to cover it up.

“I wasn’t really expecting anyone to watch me sleep, you know. That’s bad form…”

“I came to see you and when I didn’t see your brother, I worried.”

Her words were like a bucket of ice. His brother’s absence was like a weight in his chest but he knew Liam was the one who needed to apologise.

“That’s alright, he’ll come around.”

“I hope I didn’t put a strain on your relationship.”

“No,” he quickly reassured her. “He’s the one acting like a git. He’ll be back.”

Emma nodded, not knowing what else to say. Giving him a moment to breathe and finally drink his coffee, she moved back to inspecting the frames on his shelves. He could hear quiet chuckles when he was sure she saw pictures of him and Liam as children and a soft “aww” when he knew she saw a picture of him at the beach as a baby. When he joined her in the room, she’d made her way to his bookshelves and he knew it was coming before she even spoke it.

“Who is she? In the picture?”

Killian took his time joining her in front of the gold frame. He was relieved to know that looking at the woman with the adventurous glint in her eyes no longer felt like a hot poker ran through his heart but it was more of a dim pain.

“Someone from long ago. Her name was Milah.”

“Was?”

“Aye, she’s gone.”

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

He could feel Emma’s gaze on him but where he thought he’d see pity, there was understanding, a hint of similar pain - something he thought she was barely aware of.

“Aye. She was the love of my life. It was years ago. We fell for each other and I would take her on all the adventures she desired. She had told me how she had felt like a prisoner and wished to see the world so I took her. They were the happiest years of my life. Even if I ended up at odds with my brother, I was happy.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t last…”

“No. I didn’t know then but she was married, an unhappy marriage. We had planned to meet at a restaurant. I was driving there when all of a sudden, I saw her. She called my name and I ended up crashing into another car. Thankfully, no one was hurt. No one but me, at least.” As if reliving the pain, he began tracing the scars on his left hand knowing her eyes followed his movement. “I saw her again later, when I woke up in the hospital, but she wasn’t there. She told me how she had been getting into her car when her husband approached her. They had a big argument and he ended up killing her.

“I wanted to avenge her death but she didn’t want me to waste my life. She told me she was the guilty one and all she wanted was for me to be happy. That’s when I moved to Neverland and she moved on.”

“Have you contemplated revenge since then?”

“No.” There was no doubt in his tone. “She was right, I would have ruined my life. Her husband was imprisoned not long after and that was enough.”

There was a cold feeling in his left hand and to his surprise he looked down to see her hand on his. He couldn’t feel the texture of her fingers or grab her hand, but it was enough.

“I’m glad you didn’t ruin your life.”

He couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his face as he raised his head to look at her.

“I’m glad, too.”

Killian had never noticed the specks of gold in the middle of her green eyes. The ridiculous thought of being able to drown in her eyes crossed his mind before he could catch it and despite the fact that she had no physical body, he found himself leaning towards her. He heard her breath catch before the ringing phone made them jump away from each other.

“That’s mine.” All the way to the phone, he tried to get his thoughts in order and forget how he almost tried to kiss a ghost. “Hello?”

“Before you come over, can you bring pretzels?”

“David?”

“Yeah, can you?”

“First of all, terrible phone etiquette and second of all, must it always be pretzels?”

“I’m your friend, I’m allowed some bad manners and yes, it has to be pretzels.”

“You have terrible taste in snacks, mate.”

“It’s tradition, Jones, you don’t ruin tradition. Can you bring it?”

“Alright, I’ll bring the pretzels and the beers. See you later.”

The phone call had been a good reprieve and once he turned to Emma, he could see that the moment had passed even if his heart still stuttered at the soft smile she graced him with.

“Guess I have to do some shopping.”

.-.

Being in David and Mary Margaret’s flat was like visiting parents for Christmas. They tried to feed you all the food in their fridge and they made sure that everyone felt welcomed, both human and spirit. Introducing Emma to David had gone better than expected considering David didn’t have as much contact with Killian’s gift as his wife.

“Is Liam not coming?”

Killian should have expected it from Mary Margaret, but he managed to keep his cool.

“He had something else to do.”

As if sensing something, David drew their attention towards the TV. Apart from Liam, David had created that same brotherly bond between them and he couldn’t be more thankful. Emma seemed utterly focused on the football game and fifteen minutes in, she was mirroring David’s cheers much to Killian’s amusement.

Despite the interruption, he ought to have known Mary Margaret wouldn’t have dropped the Liam subject as she proved when they ended up alone in the kitchen during half-time.

“Are you going to tell me why Liam isn’t here or do I have to pull it out of you?”

“Perhaps don’t say things like that while holding a knife?”

The only response he got was a raised eyebrow and a knife menacingly turned towards him.

“I told him to leave…”

“What? Why?”

“I introduced him to Emma and he acted like a right bastard, we argued and I told him to leave.”

“Liam? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. He was being over-protective and it just happened.”

“I do hope you’re planning on reconciling with him,” Mary Margaret said in her mothering tone, organising the rest of the snacks on the large plate.

“Of course, but he’s going to have to come to me first.”

“Come on, guys, the game is about to start.” David’s voice, thankfully, drew their conversation to an end.

After grabbing another case of beer and following Mary Margaret out of the kitchen, he tried to tamp down the automatic smile at Emma’s excited expression.

“No beer for you, love?” he asked once he noticed the glass of water in Mary Margaret’s hand.

“Uhm, no, I haven’t been feeling great so I’m sticking to water.”

“I thought she was going to vomit up her insides this morning.”

“David!”

There was comfort in the laughter that filled the living room before the whistle from the TV stopped it. As usual, after every Sunday game, Mary Margaret cooked the best dinner and they would sit and talk and laugh all through the night. It was the closest he had to a family and, even without his brother, it still gave him the warmth and love a real family would.

It was much later after dinner and drinks that he returned to his house, thankful that he lived only a flight of stairs away. Killian was being lulled by Emma’s excited recount of the night’s events when he entered his home and lay on his couch. He was tired but a happy sort of tired, the kind that comes after a great meal and great company. He noticed the silence before he saw the soft smile on Emma’s face. She seemed to do that a lot.

“This was fun.”

“Aye. It’s been a tradition ever since I met them. They took me in as if I was their own family.” There was a happy glint in Emma’s eyes but unfortunately, his mind turned towards his actual family. “This was the first time Liam didn’t join us.”

“I-I’m sorry, I feel like it’s my fault.” He could punch himself for the frown he put on her face.

“No, it wasn’t your fault.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him but he still gave her his best reassuring smile and he was happy to see it returned. His eyelids grew heavy.

“Thank you for being by my side.”

Her soft voice was like a whisper and he could only hum in response. He felt a cold touch along his brow and was soothed to sleep by her voice.

.-.

“Is your job always so boring?”

Killian sighed trying to control his rolling eyes - his brother kept saying that they’d get stuck like that someday. After meeting Emma, he was sure it was just a matter of time.

Emma had followed him to work that morning as expected and he had assured her that they’d go to the Mayor’s office on his break to start their investigation. Until then, she kept him company. Even if apparently it wasn’t enough.

“If you don’t like it, why are you still here?” He kept his eyes on the books in his hand trying to remember its section. “You can meet me afterwards.”

“Because I either stay here with you, or I go explore and risk running into that furniture shop owner.” Emma shifted from her seated position until she had draped herself over the couch, letting her arms and feet dangle carelessly. He tried not to find that endearing.

Killian couldn’t argue against her reasoning. The shop owner was someone they both wished to avoid - a shaggy-haired man who had died almost 50 years ago kept asking Killian to get in contact with his dealer and kept trying to seduce Emma in the most indecent ways.

“Alright, but don’t expect this to become more lively. A library is supposed to be a space of peace and silenc-”

“Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones!” An ecstatic clamour that he recognised as Henry Mills burst through the door and almost tripped over the carpet in his excitement.

“You were saying?” He chose to ignore Emma’s remark.

“Henry, lad, keep your voice down!” Killian tried to scold but he couldn’t help smiling at the boy’s energy. From the corner of his eye, he could see Emma watching with a wide grin.

“Right, sorry!” Seemingly chastened, Henry looked down for a second before looking back up with a wide grin and carrying on in his previous excited tone. “Guess who I got for my assignment?”

Killian sighed defeatedly at the loss of the quiet, but there was barely any heat behind it. Before he could even open his mouth, the boy exploded.

“I got the lost princess!”

“Who?” Killian did it mostly to see the exasperation on Henry’s face and smiled. “That’s the one you wanted, aye? You’re one lucky lad!”

The boy’s grin lit up the entire room and, just like everyone who knew him, Killian could see Emma stand up, attracted by the boy’s light. Henry looked around before his eyes landed back on the librarian.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt, I assumed you’d be alone.” Killian frowned at his words but was interrupted before he could analyse them. “Can you show me the books on the royal family?”

His attention elsewhere, Killian made sure the boy was happily surrounded by all his required books before returning to his desk.

“He’s a very energetic boy.” He heard Emma’s voice before he felt her sit on top of the desk.

“He is.” Killian kept his eyes on the boy and his voice low so as not to draw Henry’s attention. “He doesn’t have many friends, but you can always find him with his head buried in a book.”

“Sounds like your type of kid.”

“I am very fond of him. Then again, he’s the most well-behaved kid that comes here.”

He was momentarily distracted by her chuckle until he saw Henry rush back to him with a book clutched in his hands, almost exploding with enthusiasm.

“Did you know they called her the Swan Princess?! Look!”

Henry’s book was laid with a thud on his desk as both boy and ghost gawk at the page-wide illustration. While he intended to give the boy his full attention, his gaze was drawn to the golden brooch in Emma’s hair. More specifically, to the swan cast on it. “There was an invasion by Prince James and when the princess saw her parents in danger, she unleashed her magic and everyone said she looked like a swan! She saved everyone when she was my age!”

Killian was struck silent as he tried to work through so much information. Henry, completely unaware of Killian’s internal conflict, turned to the next page causing Emma’s eyes to widen. When his eyes found the page, a picture of Emma looked back at him.

“What did you say the Princess’ name was?” Killian’s voice was barely above a whisper causing Henry to turn worriedly to him.

“Emma.”

At the sound of her name, Emma looked at him and he found himself holding her gaze - he could see the overwhelming conflict behind her green eyes. “That’s you…”

In the span of a second, Emma rose to her feet and the lamps started flickering as she paced back and forth. Killian ran his hand over his face and hair trying to control his running thoughts. Henry watched all this with a worried gaze.

“Is she okay?” The boy’s quiet voice caught Killian’s attention and he stopped his hand at the back of his neck.

“Aye, it’s just a lot of infor- wait, you can see her?”

“No.”

“Then how-?”

“I don’t know, I can sense she’s there.”

“This is too much to deal with…” Killian took a deep breath before standing from his chair. “We will talk about that later, alright?”

Henry nodded quickly before he got that glint in his eyes. “Is she really Princess Emma?”

“It appears so.” Killian can’t help but smile before he turns to the distressed ghost. “Emma?”

At his call, she turned overwhelmed eyes towards him and the lights stopped flickering. He hoped she found some comfort in his reassuring look. Her deep breath relaxed her shoulders and there was a measure of calm in the lines of her face.

“I can’t remember anything but this is quite the proof. Guess we won’t need scary mayor anymore, uhn?” Despite the situation, Killian chuckled at her attempt at a joke and she rewarded him with a smile.

“When we met, you asked me for help. This is how I help you. You’re not alone.”

“We’ll help you. I have to do a project about you, so this is actually great!”

Henry, precocious boy that he is, found the perfect thing to say to make them laugh.

“Thank you.” It came out as barely louder than a whisper but it was overflowing with gratitude. They shared a look until Henry’s voice caught their attention.

“Do you know how you got here?”

“No.” Emma looked disappointed for a second before her eyes widened. “Wait, I remember a garden! I remember being stuck in this garden for what felt like an eternity.”

“You were stuck in a garden? What type of garden?”

Killian had never heard of a garden from any ghost. It seemed Emma’s story was more mysterious than he thought.

“I’m not sure, it was very shiny and loud. I remember trying to leave but never succeeding.”

“How did you leave?”

“I… I think there was a voice. And then there was a door.”

“A voice?”

“Whose voice?”

At Henry’s question, she turned to him with her mouth slightly open.

“I think it was his voice.”

Both Emma and Killian focused on Henry. So much so that the boy finally noticed.

“Why are you looking at me? Is she looking at me too? I think I can feel her looking at me.” Thankfully, it only seemed to take him a second to understand. “Was it my voice?”

“How is this possible?”

“Maybe he did something?”

“Did you do something? On Friday, do you remember touching any sort of magic?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Think back, lad, it’s important.”

Killian could see the gears turning as the boy focused.

“Oh!” With that exclamation, Henry bolted towards the table and returned with his large backpack. “I found something in Mr. Gold’s shop and he gave it to me!” he explained as he rifled through his bag trying to find his treasure. “He said it was worthless and that it had been in the shop for decades. Here!” Holding out his hand, they saw a silver ring with a deep crimson gem on top of it. There were voices coming from it, but Killian seemed to be the only one who could hear them, even if he couldn’t make out the words. “I don’t know why I wanted it, I just did.” With a weak shrug, Henry lay the ring in Killian’s outstretched hand.

The overwhelming noise of the whispers quieted when Henry placed it in his hand. It was as if it was always meant to be his.

“This must mean something!” Killian exclaimed, sitting back down at his desk while keeping his eyes on the ring. Emma joined him to stare at it, too.

They barely noticed as Henry grabbed a book from his desk until the boy spoke.

“What is this?”

Absent-mindedly, Killian only spared the book a glance. “I found it in my cart, but I don’t think it’s from the library, it’s in a different language.”

The leather creaked as it was opened.

“The Swan. This is a storybook.”

“What? How can you read that?”

“It says it was written by Alice Jones.” Henry turned the page towards Killian while Emma read over his shoulder. Killian turned to her just in time to see a spark in her eyes and a triumphant smile on her lips.

“I think this is exactly what we were looking for!”

#cssns #cssns21 #captainswan #killian jones #emma swan #captain hook #henry mills #ghosts #cssns2021 #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff au #ouat ff #cs ff #carolina writes

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