It was an unusually slow and peaceful day even by Storybrooke standards. Emma had spent the last few hours sorting out papers in the police station and was currently getting some well-deserved rest, feet propped up on the desk and no plans to do anything productive for the rest of the day. She let out a small contented sigh and lay back in her chair, allowing her eyes to flutter shut for just a second…
"Slacking off at the workplace eh, Sheriff?"Came a low, drawling voice from the general direction of the door. Emma's nose crinkled as she willed her eyes to remain closed despite the sudden urge to throw the intruder one of her trademark are-you-serious looks.
It had been months since Killian had arrived alongside Cora. At first he had been received quite badly, if for no other reason that his allegiances were quite uncertain. Also, he tended to rub people the wrong way. But then Cora had gone so far in her bloodlust that she had estranged even the pirate, and he had ended up playing his part in bringing her down. When the dust had settled and time had come for his confrontation with Rumplestiltskin, Belle and the rest of the town had interfered and prohibited any further bloodshed. Thus the two men were forced to get over themselves and settle for avoiding each other like the plague. Drama levels had gradually subsided as everyone went back to their daily routines, doing what they could to keep the town running until Rumple and Regina figured out how to lift the curse for good.
Hence Killian Jones, better known as Captain Hook, had taken up the position of town slacker and resident ladies' man. Today his target seemed to be Emma.
"Go away," she murmured, trying to recapture the state of inner peace his voice had done away with.
"Now, now, that's no way to treat a fellow townsman, love."
She made an incoherent grumbling noise in reply, which Hook seemed to take as an invitation, as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards the desk. With her eyes still closed, Emma could only hear his soft footsteps and a sort of quiet clinking sound that made her vaguely curious.
"I am here to rid you of your boredom and yet you do not even spare me a glance!" He sounded just as cheerful as always, but Emma could swear there was a hint of annoyance in his tone. He really hated not being paid attention, didn't he?
"Who said I was bored?" Here Emma couldn't help herself anymore and opened her eyes, only to roll them at the sight of a visibly overjoyed Killian with the ever-present impish grin plastered to his face.
The only reply he gave was an unequivocal raise of his eyebrows before he snapped back to what she liked to call the 'hyperactive puppy mode'. "Come on, up, up, and away!" He was on the verge of bouncing up and down with excitement. "You need exerci- I mean, it's a lovely day outside, and you should make the most out of it!"
Emma shot him a look that could knock out a small rodent. Alas, it had no effect on his maddening enthusiasm. "And what do you suggest?" she asked finally, making sure to sound as unmotivated, uninterested and many other un-s as she could. "Should I go find a stick for you to fetch?"
Whether he didn't understand the last one or just let it slip by, she had no idea, but either way he wasn't backing down. "Get up! Good. Now, after me."
Another roll of her eyes and Emma was obediently (if sullenly) trailing behind the Captain as he led her out of the office and on to a nearby open space. The sun was making its rounds in an immaculate azure far above, the grass was green as could be, even some birds seemed to be chirping… All in all, for a second the Sheriff was almost glad she'd ventured out of the station. Then she remembered who she was with and her happiness subsided noticeably. The only thing egging her on was the same vague curiosity she'd first felt when she heard the clinking noise coming out of his knapsack. It was relatively big, maybe over a metre long, but not bulky overall, and looked as though it had seen better days.
It clearly was not holding a picnic basket, which left Emma with zero ideas as to what Killian had in store for her.
"Now, love," he began as he set the mysterious bag on the grass and set about untying all the (unnecessarily) complex knots he'd made. He really must be missing the days at sea, Emma thought distractedly, but any sympathy she felt was quickly chased away by his next words. "Since we both know the one thing you're absolutely rubbish at," this he stressed more than she'd have liked him to, "I decided that my good deed for the day will be to attempt to pass on some of my superior knowledge." He really seemed to be enjoying himself. Smug bastard.
She was about to make some sort of remark when he finally managed to open the knapsack and took out...
"Are those swords?" Emma made sure not to seem surprised. Where had he got them from, though? And had he been up to anything with them? Was there something she had to know?
"Wow, you're good at the whole sword fighting thing. Wanna switch places?" He just couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Though, to be fair, she wasn't sure he was even trying. "Yes, Swan, they're swords. Handle, sharp edge, pointy end and all that."
Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but he seemed almost... serious now. Either he was fed up with her ill temper or he actually, genuinely wanted to teach her something. She dismissed the second idea with a slight shake of her head and turned to the man again.
"I was just testing you, Jones. You haven't exactly been getting a lot of practise lately either. Are you even sure which the pointy end is?"
Like hell if she was making this easy on him.
"Would you like me to try them out on you?" he cocked an eyebrow, thus putting an end to their short-lived sassing competition. Emma settled for watching him scrutinise the blades, sliding his finger down the edge with a concentration she'd never seen from him before. If she were to be honest with herself, she'd have to admit it was an oddly fascinating sight. Hook then weighed the swords and made a few test swings through the air. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he appeared pleased with their condition and rose up, handing her one of the weapons hilt-first. She took it and looked it up and down, trying to see what it was about it that the man had spent so long gazing at.
"No, no. No more looking at them, I did enough of that." At this he gave her chin a gentle nudge upward with his finger, levelling their eyes. "It's time we try out these lovelies." And there was that playful tone to his voice that he'd mysteriously lost a few minutes earlier. She almost felt glad that whatever had been clouding his mind had clearly passed, or at least that he was keeping it in. As much as she hated admitting it, she enjoyed his philanderer ways – they allowed her to view him as an uncomplicated, single-minded person, which in turn made being around him all the more possible. If she were to get more acquainted with the real Killian... Well, suffice to say she really didn't know how that would end.
"'Ello, love?" His insistent voice wrung her out from her reverie, and for the better. "We're trying to accomplish something here. If you zone out on me while we're practicing, it won't end well for either of us. I mean, you'll be fine, but I have a feeling daddy Charming is one of those overprotective parents. And don't even get me started on Snow..."
"Yeah, can we drop the subject of my family tree, please?" She snarled through gritted teeth, getting a firmer grip on the sword.
Making her annoyed was hands down the best way to get Emma to focus, and Hook could get her from zero to absolutely steaming in one sentence. For once, she was glad of this.
"Shall we then?" His lips cracked into a broad grin as he took position.
"Most certainly," she muttered under her breath as she launched into attack.
For the next minute or so nothing could be heard but the sharp clanging of metal on metal as the two whirled around. What Emma lacked in technique, she made up for with irritation - which didn't take long to turn into pure relish. She'd forgotten just how alive the rush of battle could make her feel. Of course, the recent peace and calm were a pleasant change in their own way, but if she were to be honest, she wasn't quite ready to let go of the adventure in her life yet. And there was nothing quite like a surge of adrenaline to get the blood pumping.
Once he noticed she was smiling, Killian gradually became less rough until they were basically fencing, where Emma's previous zest served her little. There Hook's nearly flawless skill and tactical prowess outweighed her fire and she quickly ended up with his blade at her throat.
"You don't pay a lot of attention, do you?" He laughed not unkindly as he dropped the sword, taking some time off to catch his breath.
"I don't?" She raised an eyebrow as she relaxed too, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
"You expose yourself far too much," he replied, matter-of-factly. "You don't really have to swing in such a wide arc," and here he repeated what she'd been doing, giving her the chance to notice the many flaws of her approach. She really had no idea how vulnerable she'd been. And yet he hadn't taken advantage even once… "I'm sure you'd pack quite the punch in a shorter sweep as well," the man finished, demonstrating a much more compact swing, which seemed just as powerful. All this he did with such care that it was impossible not to understand. "See what I mean?"
She nodded, mesmerised. He really did seem to be taking the whole teaching business seriously, and for once she didn't even feel like mocking him. He was just so sincere, so into it, that the very idea of ruining his efforts felt abhorrent. Snap out of it! Be snarky or something, her conscious mind waged a lost battle.
"Come on, let's try again. Keep in mind what I told you." He picked up his sword and resumed position. Emma followed suit and soon they were at it again, though this time she was doing her best to keep her swings short and effective. The change was almost immediately noticeable – this method took a lot less energy and resulted in far more hits. She was far from perfect at it, though, and soon he had her backing up like the first time. Just then an idea occurred to her of a way to gain a small advantage, if only a second to catch her wind. She remembered the first time they'd fought all those months ago when he'd spun around, throwing her slightly off-balance. Would it work on him, though? Only one way to find out.
Apparently, however, she had either miscalculated the distance or, oddly enough, his three hundred years of experience made quite the difference. Either way, she ended up with her back against his chest, a hook pressed against her abdomen and the now familiar blade at her neck. She was about to laugh it off when she realised how tense he felt behind her.
"Trying to use my own tricks against me, eh?" He hissed in her ear, the previous gentleness in his tone suddenly gone. From his rigid posture behind her to the cruel glee in his voice, in a split second he had morphed into a different man altogether. Emma realised he could rip her open in more than one way from his position, and froze.
There was this threshold of fear beyond which she tended to go entirely numb. The mind would operate at full speed, but any self-preservation instinct she had just failed to function: a full-scale reckless mode. It had put her in insane situations more times than she cared to admit, and right now was no different. Experience told her to be frightened, to run, but something else, some deeply ingrained instinct had her rooted to the spot. Despite her own better judgement, she wasn't thinking of ways to escape. Flight wasn't an option, not this time.
"Killian?" She addressed him softly, the breath hitching in her throat where his sword rested still, dangerously close to breaking the skin. She could feel his already insane heartbeat speed up a little more and for a second she was actually... afraid.
What had she been thinking, trying to talk possibly the most violent man she knew out of his madness...? He'd spend three hundred years living off hate. Everything good about him had been torn away from him, stolen from his very arms. He was the product of nothing but mindless loathing; the sole purpose of his life had been to hurt. To kill. And he had been denied that. She'd been a fool to think a few months of playing pretend in a small town could change him... Fix him. Hell, she doubted anything could. For all she knew, he could be beyond repair at this point.
He was unstable, volatile, headstong; he'd been that way all his life. She could put no name to his condition. He could probably be diagnosed with every disorder under the sun and then some, but even the worst illnesses of the mind had their latent stages. They could lay dormant for years at a time, just waiting for a trigger... He was relapsing. He was relapsing and she was right there, in his arms, with a blade pressed to her neck and his hook digging into her skin. If she so much as trembled... No, she wouldn't think of that.
His uneven breathing and her own heartbeat were the only things she could hear for the longest time. Countless frantic seconds passed before she could finally feel him relax behind her. He let the blade drop from his hand, falling idly on the grass. The cold metal of the hook had left her skin, too. Before she knew it he'd let go of her entirely and was storming away. No, no, no...
"Wait!" She was surprised by how scared, vulnerable even, she sounded, but it was all she could do not to run after him. He'd nearly killed her mere moments ago and now she wanted to chase him. Save him. Emma, you need to stop with this. The need to mend the broken had been her driving force for so long now that she had lost track of reality. He was a murderer. He was a monster.
But he stopped. She couldn't believe it. After everything she'd done to him, he stopped for her. Again. He turned away as she approached, but he had nowhere to hide now. He'd given her a chance and she wasn't letting it go.
"Killian, what happened?" She instantly hated how shaky her voice came out, how fragile...
"So it's Killian now?" He laughed, but there was nothing but bitterness in the sound that came out of his lips. "When I act normally, I get Hook. Or maybe Jones, once in a blue moon." He wasn't talking, he was spitting the words out. And the worst part was she didn't know what he was more disgusted with – her or himself. "It takes a monster to make you call me by my real name. Do I have to be a monster to you of all people?"
He wasn't angry anymore. If anything, he appeared... empty. His face was drained of colour, eyes had lost their gleam and his sealed lips looked as if they had never seen a smile. He also seemed older, and so tired, as if he'd weathered a few lifetimes' worth of storms.
And Emma... She was dumbstruck. Her mouth stood slightly open, but no words escaped it. They seemed to get stuck with the big lump in her throat instead, and she couldn't force them out. Even the clichés had abandoned her. She couldn't manage a meagre "It's gonna be alright" to save her life. How could she lie to him now?
If her life so far was any indication, nothing was ever alright. But that didn't mean they had to give up...
"Forget about it," the pirate shook his head slightly as a wan smile stole across his face.
He started walking again, visibly struggling to maintain his resolution, but she could swear his shoulders slumped a little and did he even take his eyes off the ground?
"No... Please." This time she was on his heels before he could get too far. "Just tell me. Talk to me." She was imploring him as if her life depended on it, and in that horrifying moment, it felt as if it really did. Mere minutes ago she had been terrified of learning his closet skeletons and now they were all she could think about. What broke you so? Her mind was screaming and she had to bite back the words with every passing heartbeat.
He turned around and then she was sinking into his eyes, into everything she didn't know, everything he held back, everything that undid him. If only she could read him better, like he did with her. He seemed to understand her in a way she could never return. No flicker of emotion, no matter how small, ever evaded him. It was almost uncomfortable how much of an open book she had been to him since the very first moment...
"I'm sorry. That wasn't meant for you at all," his tone and face had softened and his eyes, so steadily fixed upon hers, were the clear blue of an autumn sky. "It's just some bad memories. I should've seen this coming," he added quickly, apologetically.
"I'm not going to make you tell me," the woman replied, "but if you need to..." The sentence didn't need finishing. He knew what she meant, just like he always did. It could be infuriating, but right now she was beyond thankful for it. And in time she would learn, too. She would get acquainted with every little sign, every feeling he tried to hide, every fear he pushed down. There was no other way, not after... this. She'd seen some side of him even he seemed afraid of, and there was no way she could move on and ignore it.
"Maybe later," he managed a smile as he lightly, almost unconsciously ran his thumb over her cheek.
She managed to smile, too, and in that moment it all felt better. Disaster had been averted, they were both still breathing, both in one piece... At least physically. But something irked her still, and she knew she wouldn't be able to let go of it without bringing it up him.
"By the way... What was that about me calling you by your name?" she asked cautiously, gently, lest she should throw him back into the darkness he'd only barely escaped from.
This seemed to give him pause, but he looked thoughtful, not hurt. Mentally, she let out a relieved sigh.
"Hook is... was a bad person," he said simply, a wistful sort of half-smile etched on his lips and the smallest speck of hope in his eyes. "I wished you could see how I've been trying. Trying to be Killian and not him..."
Her mind was buzzing suddenly with memories like puzzle pieces, and for the first time she could put them together. Everyone had been so stunned when he'd offered to help Belle out with setting up the library. They had thought he was still after revenge and no one, no one at all had trusted him when he asked time and again if he was needed. When Mary Margaret and David decided to move out, he'd volunteered to tell stories to Mary's pupils so she could take the afternoons off and help around the house. He'd spent every afternoon for a week with the kids, recounting tales of his swashbuckler years in Neverland, his memories of the lost boys, his childhood even. Not to mention that he'd been working in the mines since day one despite being impaired... Hell, he'd even taken shifts for Ruby so she could have a night off with the girls.
And all those things everyone, including Emma, had interpreted as scheming, or sabotage, or flirting...
The second she finally saw the whole picture, she felt like the worst person in the world.
She'd been so blind... She hadn't even thought about giving him a chance beyond not arresting him the second he set foot in town, and so she'd been unable to see everything he'd been doing. Despite all the odds, despite everyone just looking for a reason to blame him or a crime to pin on him, despite people avoiding him even after so many months, he had never stopped trying...
"I'm so sorry," was all she could say.
But it was enough.