Set season 3- Emma & Hook are aboard the Jolly Roger in Neverland about to start their journey to rescue Henry. I have know idea where this will go story-wise, yet this idea for a chapter has been haunting me! So please read & hopefully enjoy. Comments & reviews would be lovely & appreciated! ;)
Chapter 1: Crossed Swords
Shoulders hunched, Emma slumped into the nearest chair by the window and stared out onto the street from the two story building. She watched from above the youthful looking boys gathered on the sidewalk, all with their sticks and fake swords battling one another. Her gut twisted angrily.
"Emma." A stern voice called from behind her. She rolled her gaze to the doorway of the library. It was the social worker who worked in their foster home. The woman's eyes were as stern as her voice. Her graying hair was twisted in a formal bun and she wore plain clothes—plain like her features. Yet Emma had a feeling that this woman's disappointed scowl would haunt her the rest of the day.
"We do not tolerate violence here. You know that." She said evenly. "You gave Zack a black eye. You're lucky that you didn't cause more damage."
Emma said nothing, simply returned her gaze to the street where the boys continued to do battle with their swords, even after she nearly stabbed one of their eyes out. She arched a contemptuous eyebrow. She should still be out there. Just because she was a girl didn't make her any less their equal. Half those idiots stabbed and poked each other with those crappy, hand-made sticks they had found in the park. And they had been perfectly happy with the idea of Emma joining their little gang of hooligans. But when they discovered that she too could fight with a sword, their opinions changed. It didn't help stabbing one of them either. Wimps.
"You'll remain here the rest of the afternoon. I suggest you think about you're behavior, Emma. Maybe you might find something interesting in here, rather than outside. Some reading may do you good."
Emma glanced over her shoulder to watch the social worker close the door and leave her in the foster care's shabby little library. She could hear their laughter of the boys below. Irritated, Emma stood and walked to the small bookshelf next to the kid's area. There were little plastic, colorful chairs for the kids and their finger-painted pictures decorating the walls. Remnants of orphaned children lingered in this room. Normally she avoided this place. Younger children were more adoptable than older ones, so want-to-be parents were in and out of this place constantly. But today was an off day and the room was empty, except for her.
Her eyes scanned the titles of the shelves. She was unimpressed by most of the children's books. Stories of love and happy endings, of families and hope. This wall of books was meant to inspire the children in the foster home—to give them a sense of meaning and purpose, so that one day they would believe they too would be adopted and loved. Emma however saw it for what it really was—lies.
Letting her fingers trail over the titles, she hovered over Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and finally stopping unexpectedly on Peter Pan. This story was vaguely familiar to her. She knew it didn't have any silly princesses looking for true love or any of that nonsense. She sighed, snagged the tattered book and returned to her window seat. She glanced outside for the boys and saw they had left, forgetting all about her.
A sharp sting of loneliness hit her. Emma swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Once more she was alone—abandoned. She may have never truly belonged with those boys, but at least she felt less alone.
Frowning, she snapped the book open on her lap and absently began turning the pages, attempting to take her mind from her feelings. Colorful pictures throughout the story captured her attention. Emma paused on the lush images of Neverland. A place filled with magic, adventures, creatures, and beauty. She wondered what it would be like to actually see a place like that.
She flipped the next page and paused. A sinister pirate glared up at her, his eyes painted a dark and malicious color, as if he could see inside her heart. The villain of the story… Captain Hook. He stood on the deck of a pirate ship, wearing a feather hat and a silver sword strapped to his hip. She eyed him curiously. His sharp hook glinted as he pointed off towards Neverland, telling his crew to find and hunt down Peter Pan. She continued flipping the pages, watching through the actions of the pictures as Peter Pan outsmarted Hook until their final battle at the very end of the story. Dagger against hook. Sword to sword.
Emma's mind raced. If she could fight like Hook, those boys outside would bow down to her in wonderment. They would not have abandoned her in the library. She read on, Peter Pan eventually won, but with the help of the Wendy and some silly fairy. But if they wouldn't have been there, she knew Hook would have defeated them. After all, he was a ruthless pirate who commanded his own ship and ruled the seas.
Feeling even more agitated, Emma tossed the book aside and returned her gaze out the window. The world suddenly felt like a formidable place to her. If a kid could defeat someone like Captain Hook, than what chance did she have in the real world? A world that had never been kind to her and at times, cruel. She knew when she reached 18 in seven years she would be kicked out of foster care and on her own for good. It was probably a good thing, she thought with a sigh. Leaning her head back, her long blond hair fell behind her as she curled up on the chair, the sun warming her skin.
She was better off alone—at least that was what she convinced herself of. Still, she longed for friends and companionship. Unfortunately life had seen it fit to shackle her to the role of orphan. Just as Captain Hook had been shackled to his hunt and revenge of Peter Pan. Emma glanced back to the discarded story on the floor. The book lay open to the face of Captain Hook and his vicious looking hooked hand and sword.
If life were as easy as a fairy tale then she may get a happy ending too one day. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Yeah, because her life had been so good up to now to make her believe she deserved some magical happy ending. She was better off seeing herself like Hook—at least then, she would know she had nothing to gain other than some tragic ending.
She dropped her head into her hand and stared at Captain Hook. Sunlight drifted through her hair and shadowed everything on the book except for his eyes. So maybe she should just become a villain? She smirked at the thought. Yeah, she could fight alongside Hook—fight the good fight and look out for only herself, because no one else would. Become a pirate, a drifter and never look back at her life here.
Feeling a bit better, Emma picked the book up once more and began reading the whole story—cover to cover. Too bad Captain Hook couldn't teach her how to swordfight, she thought with a small smile.
The memory of her time in foster care came back with startling clarity as Emma withdrew her actual sword from her belt and gripped it tight in her hand. The sun beat down on her back, the sounds of water lapping against the ship, and the feel of the wind at her face made this moment all the more real. The memory felt almost surreal now. She remembered wishing to someday fight with swords, duel with Captain Hook like in the story. Never in his wildest dreams did she think it would actually come true.
"Nervous, darling?" Captain Hook asked as he strode forward from below decks, his hooked hand looped around his belt, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his sea blue eyes.
Hook's drawling voice had her jolting slightly, straightening her back.
"No—why, should I be?"
"Not everyone voluntarily asks to duel a pirate, usually it comes out of necessity."
"You mean survival?"
He laughed softly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword on his black leather belt. Emma's gaze was drawn to it, to the long, tanned fingers, the wide back and the ring that stated who and what he was—pirate, villain. His hand fascinated her. He had touched her once, not gently, but potently when they fought before on the beach. There was strength in his touch that a woman could rely on, as well as fear. She wondered why at the moment she should feel only the first.
"I'm doing this for Henry. I want to get better with…" she gestured to her own sword. "This. I've been good so far—lucky even.
"Yes, I heard you killed a dragon. Rather impressive if I must say."
"But I need to be better than good." She retorted.
"And naturally you come to me instead of your father?" he asked curiously.
She paused, but decided there was no point in lying to him. "He's good… a good man and fighter. But you're... well…"
He arched a suspicious eyebrow.
"You're a pirate—you can teach me how to fight dirty if I have to."
His handsome expression turned seductive then. "I can teach you more than just how to fight dirty, love— other skills that we pirates are known for." His meaning wasn't lost to her. Nor was the shiver of anticipation that raced up her spine either.
Her heart was pounding in her throat and it was ridiculous. She wasn't subject to flights of fancy and wide swings of emotions. But somehow Hook stirred her up. There was just something about his devil may care attitude and swagger that caught her attention. Meet it head on, Emma advised herself. Meet it head on and push it aside. Now was not the time to get caught up in fleeting emotions, especially with Henry in danger.
But she couldn't deny the sizzling awareness between them. She felt it the moment she met him not so long ago.
She didn't respond to his flirt, instead said bitingly. "Don't call me love."
Hook gave her a devilish grin. "How 'bout this—if I win, I'll call you whatever I like. If you win, I'll stop calling you love."
"And darling, and beautiful and whatever else you come up with that's not my actual name. It's Emma—or Swan to you."
"Yes, well you seem to enjoy calling me Hook. But I wouldn't mind Killian every now and then, love."
She rolled her eyes. "Are we gonna talk all day Hook? Or are we going to fight?"
"I thought we were fighting," he said with a winking smirk.
"Not yet," and with that, Emma sprang forward, sword in hand.
A flare of excitement flashed in Hook's eyes as he too stepped forward fearlessly. Swords crossed, metal slid whistling down metal. Then the two began their dance with danger and fought.
The ripple of desire tightened his muscles. She stood before him as a woman on a mission—with passion and intent. Challenging him. He'd wanted her before. Now with his mouth drying up, he thirsted for her like a man stranded at sea.
He lunged, teasing her, testing her. She seemed to sense this immediately and took her first move towards him, extending her arm, blade upon blade. Impressed, Killian cooled his mind and attempted to focus. He preferred the attack. She seemed content with defensive maneuvers. She blocked and parried out of his attacks. She was good—better than she even knew. Nature prevented from using his full skill, but even as he held back, he realized she made for a formidable and exciting partner.
The slimming pants she wore distracted him with images of what moved so elegantly beneath. Her wrists were narrow, but her arms were strong and flexible, enough so to keep him at bay. But not for long—he moved in with a challenging clash of swords and for a moment they held there, swords crossed. He gazed cuttingly across her face and saw a flash of excitement in her eyes he had not seen before. And when he smiled lazily at this, she instantly chilled her expression and pushed back.
At times she was close enough to smell, her scent was dark and sweet, tantalizing the air around him. Emma Swan was a woman he wanted. Desire curled inside him as he realized he wanted her here and now. Their dance with swords showed him just a glimpse of what their passion could be if they shared a bed.
"I must confess…" He drawled out breathlessly. "I'm having difficulty concentrating on my own form when yours is so much more appealing."
Emma let out an irritable grunt and snapped back with a quick parry. "Stop flirting and take this seriously Hook."
"If you insist, beautiful."
Emma's dark eyes flared angrily. Abandoning her steady defensive tactics, she attacked at full force, catching him off guard. Within seconds, he felt the tip of her blade push into his shoulder. He lowered his sword instantly, acknowledging the hit.
"Well done, love. You've bested me." He said in surprise.
"It's Swan now, Hook."
"Ah, yes. Deals a deal. I will address you henceforth as Swan. As requested."
She lowered her sword and looked curiously as him before saying softly, "thanks."
He smiled slowly and stepped forward. He was close enough to hear her soft intake of breath.
"You may call me Killian. I prefer to hear my true name on your lips rather than the one that was bestowed upon me."
"I don't think so."
"Why not? Too—intimate, Swan?"
It was coming over her again, that ridiculous warm excitement whenever their eyes met and held. It was like a brewing storm. Water rising over her head, attempting to drown her. But she didn't move away like she should've. It was too late to prepare, too late to stem the feelings that rose up in her. He had a seductive pull that kept her shackled to him.
He slid his sword effortlessly into his belt and reached towards her, his fingers tangling in her blond hair, pulling her closer. Emma's grip tightened on the handle of the sword, afraid of what may happen if she finally surrendered to him.
"Is it so difficult to see me as more than just a villain? As flesh and blood?"
"No, I—yes." She couldn't seem to catch her breath. The salty sea air felt stifling.
"Say my name. Now." He demanded, pulling her close enough to taste.
His eyes were not dark and deep like the sea—rather a light startling blue like the sky above them. She'd never seen how blue his eyes were before, never allowed herself to. Now, as he drew closer, she could see nothing else.
"Killian." She breathed his name. Heat flowed through him like scorching lava.
"Again." His hooked hand reached behind her waist, drawing her to him.
"Killian," she whispered, then he pressed his mouth desperately to hers.
Her lips burned against his instantly, as he finally tasted their simmering heat for the first time. He gripped her tight, even as she tensed in his arms. He deepened his kiss, parting the seam of her soft lips with his tongue. She trembled and within that moment, opened her mouth for him. He let out a strangled groan, slipping his tongue inside her warmth, tasting her fully.
Emma's muscles had tensed, yet her heart hammered inside her chest. Killian kissed her like a man presented with a goddess. Flourishing her with passion and heat, ready to seduce her. And Emma wanted to be, oh dear God she wanted to be his. Her cool control began to slip between her fingers, as she suddenly realized how much she needed this. His mouth was open, urgent, as if he had waited all his life for this moment. She felt his fingers dig into her hair, holding her there as he devoured her. She trembled at the knowledge that she could be wanted so forcefully.
Finally, her control snapped and she plunged head first into their kiss, sword clanking loudly to the deck. She wrapped her arm around his neck and the other clung to his leather coat. He pulled his lips away just enough to whisper her name in a gasping breath and push once more inside her mouth with his delicious tongue. Their tongues danced as she fought for dominance and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. She whimpered as her insides melted and her body tingled with a surging sexual heat.
He tasted like she imagined he would—steamy tropics, hot sticky nights—aggressively sweet and spicy. Killian, Captain Hook, was a dangerous pirate that could ravish a woman with his mouth, and make her feel like a temptress. And somehow, being wrapped in his arms, she felt safe. That he would never harm her, never hurt her—someone she could trust with her body and her heart. Emma shivered at the thought, which Killian flamed as he kissed along her cheek, down her neck and suckling gentle kisses on her neck. Before she realized what she was doing, Emma slid her leg upwards, angling her hips towards his body.
He let out a growling moan against her neck as he pushed his arousal into her. She gasped, letting go of all control. She wanted to feel him, all of him. He rotated his hips forward, rocking into her own heat once more.
"Emma?" the lower deck door creaked open. "Honey? Where'd you run off to?"
Her mother's voice echoed on the deck. Head swimming, Emma leapt backwards from Hook's grasp and tried to catch her breath.
"I'm up here." She pressed a hand to her throat. "Did you need something?"
"I just wanted your help with dinner—can you come down for a few minutes?" she asked from the doorway, unseen from below and blissfully unaware of what she just interrupted.
"Yeah, I'll be right there." Emma responded and the door to below decks closed once more.
He stared at her. He'd nearly been lost, Killian thought. Lost in her, lost to her. What right did she have to make him aches and want and need? She was standing there now, silent, her eyes dark and huge. How could a woman look so innocent when she'd nearly destroyed a man's soul with a taste of her mouth?
Emma bent over and retrieved her fallen sword. He watched as she sheathed it quickly in her belt and began to walk away, unable to meet his gaze. But he would not allow her retreat as he stopped her with his hooked hand, curving it around her wrist.
"Not so fast love—we have much to talk about you and I."
"It's Swan." She retorted.
He smiled, stepping towards her, "I think I can call you whatever I wish now after that little adventure."
Her eyes turned hotly to his, "we had a deal, Hook."
"Yes we did, but I consider your kiss a surrender." He lowered his mouth towards her and smiled mockingly. "I beat you."
Her lips parted, at first in confusion, then in surprise. The hurt came quickly, but before it could make her weak, she let in the fury. Her hand swept out and came hard against his face. The slap echoed in the air, and then silence remained.
"Go to hell, Hook."
Emma clenched her fist tightly as she strode down the deck and to the doorway. Fighting her sudden anger, she refused to show anything to that arrogant ass. Thankfully Hook managed to keep his mouth shut as he let her leave without another word.
Killian didn't go after her. His anger wouldn't allow it, even though he instinctively wanted to sooth the pain he had caused her just now. But he wasn't angry for the slap—no, that was nothing important, considering she could've easily sliced him with her sword instead. But her words, and the look in her eyes had carried more sting than the slap had. What bloody right did she have to make him feel remorse—guilt over being who he was? A snarky, sharp-tongued pirate who conquers whomever he pleases.
But still he wanted her. Killian admitted angrily as he scratched his hook along the closets sail beam. The sails whipped above him, catching the wind and beating fiercely above him. He ran his hand over his face, and breathed in deeply.
He would not let Emma Swan under his skin so easily. After all he was a villain, and like Regina said—villains didn't get happy endings. But he could at least damn Swan and all that she represented, heroes and happy endings, he thought grimly as he strode to his post of commander and grabbed tight to the spoke of the wheel. And he would make himself forget all about how her kiss made him feel.
TBC