Happy Valentine's day clockadile! I'm your CS Secret Valentine. I kind of strayed from the original prompt idea that inspired this, but I hope you enjoy it none the less. This is my first fan fiction in awhile, so hopefully it comes off well.
(A/N: The creation of deliri-weed is 100% in my head and has nothing to do with the original Oz story; or maybe there is something like it and I'm unaware. I'm not too well knowledged on Oz to be honest.)
Oz was not what Hook had expected, or anything he could have prepared for. The substances of the land were unfamiliar, and as it so happened - poisonous. Deliri-weed, as the locals referred to them, turned out to be quite the weapon against unknowing intruders in the Wicked Witch's kingdom. They grew like vines, tangling and twisting so tightly amongst themselves it was virtually impossible to cut through, and only seemed to expand once they had been disturbed.
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on one's perspective, Hook was the only one to fall victim to the plant's toxin. They had stubbornly tried to fight their way through the mess of weeds, and now he was paying the price. True to it's name, the deliri-weed left him in a state of delirium as hallucinations began manifesting around him. The longer time went on, the stronger they became. He'd nearly attacked Robin with his sword, seeing him as a ravenous dragon rather than the man that he was.
Though at first they tried to continue on, it soon became evident that his condition would only deteriorate until an antidote was found, and everyone agreed it best that he return to the Jolly Roger to rest - lest he strike out at another one of them in a fit of delusion. David had offered to watch over him while the others continued on, an idea Emma protested against until David made the point that her magic might be able to help find the cure faster. Hook suspected it was more than likely because he was against the idea of his daughter watching over a hair-trigger, half mad pirate.
"Don't worry, love. I'll see you soon." were his parting words to Emma, winking playfully before being all but dragged off by David. He didn't put up a fight. With only minor difficulty the pair managed to make it back to the Roger, for the most part unscathed. Well, David was anyway. Hook's health was still fading. As it turned out, the poison set in quickly. He tried not to think about just how quickly it might work it's way into his heart. He tried not to think about the flash of black hair and sharp blue eyes he'd spotted in a cornfield, the familiar yet forgotten lines of the woman's face.
It's just an illusion, he had told himself, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a long moment as he sucked in a sharp breath. When he had opened them again, she was gone, and Hook shook his head. If David noticed, he paid no attention, rather focusing on getting them back to the Jolly Roger while making sure Hook didn't lose it again. To his credit, that he had accomplished.
"Thanks, mate." Hook said, speaking for the first time since they set off, after they had reached his captain's quarters. He gave David an acknowledging nod, which was returned. "If you know what's good for you, you'll lock me in here until they've returned with the antidote." he warned, sitting down on the edge of his bed and handing over his hook, just in case he wound up doing something stupid while in a spell. He could have sworn he'd heard an "Aye, aye Captain." as David exited the room, causing Hook to grin to himself. He knew the prince would claim his delirium had caused him to hear things, if he ever brought it up again.
Hook settled against the headboard of the bed, closing his eyes as he tried to concentrate on simply breathing, in an attempt to keep out the delusion as he waited. Waited for hope, waited for death - both seemed like possibilities at the moment. The toxin was fast-setting; quicker than the dreamshade had taken hold in David's system back in Neverland. At this rate he wondered if he'd see the sunrise, least of all nightfall. But it hadn't hit a vein.
He cringed at the painful memory of just how quickly the dreamshade had gone into effect then; images of his brother collapsing sprung forth in his mind with aching clarity, the poison turning his veins black. He'd no doubt be dead on the ground in Oz now if he'd had the same misfortune.
"It's been three hundred years, and this is how I find you." Hook's eyes snapped open, falling immediately on the form of Liam Jones, who stood no more than a few feet from the edge of the bed, watching him intently. "Crumpled on a bed, sweating and delirious." Hook could have sworn he heard his brother tsk.
"Damn poison." Hook muttered - surprise, disbelief, and the smallest amount of hope clouded his voice, no matter how he tried to mask it. Rather than allowing himself to revel in this, he quickly reminded himself it was only an illusion. Liam was dead; he died over three hundred years before. This version was nothing more than a product of Hook's imagination in a moment of weakness.
"Please tell me your consciousness didn't conjure me up in your ailing state just so I could watch you rot." Liam went on. He stepped closer to the bed and peered down at Hook with something like sorrow in his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "It is good to see you, little brother. I've missed you."
And I've missed you, the words were caught in Hook's throat, leaving him with a choked gasp in response.
Not real. He reminded himself. None of this is real. The reality left a painful ache in his chest. No matter how many times he told himself otherwise, it would be so easy to slip into the delusion, just for a little while; just enjoy having his brother with him again. He felt so weak, his body burning from the inside. Hook was losing his strength to fight.
So he gave in.
"I've missed you too, brother." He said, allowing himself to grin. It had been such a long time since he had looked upon his brother's face, he was compelled to spend the moment reexamining every inch of it, committing it all to memory, pulling back together the missing pieces of Liam that had faded over time. Everything he had missed, all right in front of him, standing less than a yard away. "You haven't changed at all." he commented, attempting to be lighthearted. And it was true; from the leather boots to his captain's hat, he was exactly the same. Hook supposed that had to do with his own mind, and how he remembered Liam. Nothing less than the perfect image of a commanding officer.
"Aye, but you have." Liam said, and Hook struggled to hide his grimace. The idea of what Liam would think of him now - of the person he had become -, was never too happy of a train of thought to be entertained. It was something he had struggled with over the years, only to repeatedly shove it to the back of his mind, drowning it out with more rum. There was nowhere to run nor something to hide behind now though, not with Liam right here.
(Somewhere he knew that as a conjuring of his own mind, he might be able to change the hallucination and send his brother away. But Hook now found himself desperate to cling to this figment of his brother, no matter what pain it brought to him.)
"A lot has happened in three hundred years." He merely replied, an almost bitter smile taking place on his lips.
"That it has."
Then a silence fell upon the brothers, the air full of unspoken questions and answers - what Hook was dying to know but terrified to ask. It threatened to spill out at any moment, and yet was caught in the back of his throat. "Liam…" He tried to keep the tone of his voice level, but the amount of emotion he felt demanded to make itself known, and it came out much more pleading than he liked. Like he was desperate for his brother's understanding. He had never wanted to disappoint him.
He had once been so straight-laced, so proper. He was a naïve lad with a good heart, something being around Liam had always reinforced. Hook never wanted to be anything other than just like his brother, and worked hard to appease him. Now, as the bloody devil boy had put it, he was a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. Oh how time had changed things.
Liam smiled down upon him, standing at the end of the bed in front of him. "All is well, brother." Liam said, and Hook felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. (Never mind the fact that he felt too weak to even try to sit up.) He felt himself grinning up at him, a quiet, almost airy laugh that fell from his lips filling the space. Liam chuckled along himself.
Liam was, if anything, persistent. Hook had learnt that long ago. Of course, he never thought he'd bear witness to it out of anything other than his memory ever again. As he was quickly realizing, that was no longer the case.
Hook certainly hadn't thought that what the hallucination of his long dead brother would want to talk about would be his love life, or affections for a certain blonde. Or maybe that was what he wanted to talk about, since this was his delusion, after all. He wasn't quite aware how exactly it worked, or how much of it he had control over. It didn't feel like he had power over any of it.
"And when did things first begin between you and her?" Liam kept on, refusing to drop the subject no matter what attempts Hook made at avoiding straight answers. He was insufferably stubborn like that, and wouldn't give in. Still, Hook tried to dodge, out of nothing more than his own hardheadedness.
"That's not a simple answer."
Liam smiled, as if what he had said was amusing to hear. "Nothing of love is simple."
Hook ignored the implication of his words, breezing past it as if it were never spoken. Accepting the fact that Liam would not stop until he received some form of answer that he deemed satisfactory, Hook gave in, letting out a melodramatic sigh. "Neverland, I suppose, is when she began to see me in a light other than just a pirate."
Liam's face scrunched in distaste. "Devil's land." he muttered under his breath, and Hook was inclined to agree. The place had taken so much from him; his brother, his crew. But it had also given him something he'd never thought he'd have again. A chance, to prove himself and perhaps start again. Maybe everything he had done wasn't unforgivable, and could be atoned for. Helping save Henry was the start of it.
"The princess, hmm? You certainly know how to pick them, don't you?" Liam teased, grinning. Hook groaned audibly, his head falling back against the pillow. "And she cares for you as you care for her…?" he continued.
Hook didn't answer. He liked to believe that she did; that his feelings were mutual. But to answer that question was something he couldn't do. Only Emma could.
"She's the bloody princess. Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter. The product of true love. The Savior. And you think there is any chance she'll fall for a washed up pirate?" he challenged instead. It was true that Hook didn't have the highest opinion of himself; he certainly knew he wasn't worthy of someone like Emma. But it wasn't merely the on paper facts. Emma was good; she had a good heart. She was a hero, and he was a villain. By definition, they shouldn't work together. It was the truth that nagged at the back of his mind every time he was around her, that plagued him in the moments he found hope.
Liam looked at him, and he saw the sadness in his eyes. "I think you sell yourself short, and underestimate her feelings, little brother."
"And what do you know? Yo-" You're dead. Have you been spying on us from the grave? he thought sardonically, and perhaps a bit bitterly, but cut himself off. He looked away from Liam, unable to maintain eye contact. "I'm sorry." It might have seemed ridiculous, to apologize to a hallucination, but it all felt so real, he found it increasingly hard to not believe it was his brother standing in front of him again.
There was silence again between them, that hung heavy in the air. Then Liam continued on, as if it had never happened. "Have you given her flowers? It was my experience that women loved flowers. Gifts, in general, are popular. They love trinkets to carry around and show off." At that Hook lifted his head again.
"Emma is not a materialistic person." he countered.
"Ah." Liam responded, then began to pace with a hand on his chin, as if he were deep in thought. "What about something sentimental?"
"Where do the two of you stand now?" Liam questioned, having moved from in front of Hook's bed closer to the wall of the cabin. He looked at Hook as if he could see right into his soul, egging him on to answer his questions. Hook didn't know if this was his own subconscious trying to be therapeutic and get it all out, but he wasn't sure he was appreciating it.
"I'm not bloody sure, to tell you the truth." He said, with a small sigh. And it was the truth. Emma, first and foremost, was concerned with the safety of her son and dealing with the new threat in the Wicked Witch of the West. She had little time for engaging in any sort of romance, and as such, anything between them hadn't been touched again. Not their kiss, nor his vow to win her over fairly, her encouragement for him to think of her, more perhaps the biggest of all - his attempted True Love's Kiss. He knew to give Emma her space and allow her to deal with it on her own time, and he was willing to wait.
"But you love her, don't you?"
"Your point being?" he answered smoothly, evading a direct response. Though he knew how he felt, to speak it aloud would give it validation. It could be used as a weapon against him, or be rejected and left shattered. Speaking it gave it power over him, putting him in a position of vulnerability. Hook wasn't sure he was ready to go there yet. To allow himself to go there. Love had always been his deepest secret.
"You should tell her, brother." Liam insisted, as if there were no other acceptable option. His brother was always stubborn as an mule, and never failed to have very strong opinions. One would seldom get into an argument with Captain Liam Jones, because they knew they would seldom win it.
Hook's eyes fell from his brother to the floor, unwilling to hold his gaze. "It isn't the right time."
"You may not have much time longer, Killian. Look at yourself." He made a gesture towards Hook, who was completely aware of the fact that he more than likely looked half dead. He smirked at him in defiance.
"And what? Confess it to her with my last breath? Hang it over her head that one more person who loved her is now gone from her life?" He tensed as his tone became more defensive and heated. He never wanted to put Emma through anymore pain. She had already suffered so much in her life, and Hook never wanted to be the cause of any of it.
"She deserves to know. I would be surprised if she didn't already suspect it to be so, but she needs to hear it from you. Even when you survive this, you never know how much longer either of the two of you will have. She could be gone tomorrow, or in a month, or you before next year. Life is ever-changing and unpredictable; say all you can while you can, because when the time comes, you may not be able to."
"When?" Hook questioned. You mean if, he was about to reply, before a voice came from outside his cabin door
"Hook?" Emma called out, sounding anxious and a bit frazzled. Worried about him. The thought made him smile to himself, closing his eyes for just a moment.
"Aye." He responded to her, and it wasn't more than two seconds before he heard the click of the door opening. Hook opened his eyes to find Emma stepping inside, her gaze giving him a once-over. However the poison had affected him, it must've been bad, because the panic on her face only increased.
"Admiring the view, love?" he teased lightly, laughing despite the ache it brought to his ribs. Well that was new. He was certainly going downhill. "Did you find it?" If not, Hook knew he was a dead man. Maybe he would make good on Liam's advice in his final moments.
Emma quickly moved over to his side, sitting down next to him on the bed before pulling a green vial out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Here," she said, all but thrusting it into his right hand. "Drink this. It's the antidote to the deliri-weed's poison." And then, as if he wasn't moving fast enough for her taste, she even pulled off the cork to the vial.
Hook lifted it up to his lips, pausing to look over at Liam one last time. His brother's face held a sad, knowing smile, and Hook knew this was the last time he would be seeing him again. "Goodbye, brother." he said softly.
Then he threw his head back and swallowed the contents of the vial.
After Liam had gone, Hook realized that had been the first time since he could remember that he'd felt like Killian Jones again.