This is just a oneshot that wouldn't let me alone until I got it figured out. It could fit into the show timeline right about where things are now post 3x16. CaptainSwan (with a few bits of Henry and Charming feels here and there for good measure ) Please enjoy and let me know what you think of it when you're finished.
Of course I don't own them! Nor do I own the lovely Christina Perri song that lends this story its title and the included lyrics.
"You Put Your Arms Around Me (and I'm Home)"
By: TutorGirlml
The beep and whir of the assorted machines both haunts and soothes Emma Swan as she tries to stretch and make herself more comfortable in the narrow, barely-padded visitor's chair. Storybrooke General is certainly not the newest, most-equipped, or most welcoming facility she has ever been in – but then again, how comforting can a hospital really be? Still, they have saved him; he is alive thanks to the hospital's efforts, so she is not about to complain.
The fact that her stomach is still curling and twisting in knots upon itself and that she wants to pace the floor, yell, scream, and break things for good measure, is not anyone's fault but her own. How has it come to this? The air that releases from the respirator breathing for him makes her tense as she waits with bated breath for it to draw air in, once more filling his lungs and causing his sturdy chest to rise and fall reassuringly, even if he isn't doing it himself. She is tempted to reach out and pull down the cover, to reach under the thin hospital gown and run her hand over the rippling muscles and dark chest hair that are usually tantalizingly on display. Somehow, all covered up, he looks even more vulnerable and exposed, ironic as that seems.
Emma settles for reaching out tentatively to brush one errant strand of his dark hair off his forehead and back over his brow. Her fingers linger, ghosting across his skin, having to feel him to believe he is still with her, that he isn't gone. She very nearly lost him without ever letting him know that he truly means something to her.
He is no longer an adversary, a villain, someone to conquer, keep away from, or leave behind. As much as her heart flutters in anxiety and fear at the thought, she trusts him. Emma finds herself wanting to tell him things she has bottled up inside for years: secrets of her past, her childhood, her loneliness, self-loathing, and feelings of never being good enough to have someone stay with her. How has he gotten so close to her that she wants to share any of these secrets? She is not sure, and yet, it is blatantly true.
"What have you done to me, Pirate?" she whispers to him brokenly as she keeps her hopeful vigil at his bedside.
I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart, But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start, You put your arms around me and I believe that it's easier for you to let me go You put your arms around me and I'm home…
Looking back on their first meeting, Emma can see that Killian Jones has always thrown her off-balance, messed with her head and made her emotions do crazy, erratic things completely against her usual reaction of keeping distance and control. As soon as they found him alive in the midst of Cora's desolation and carnage in the refugee camp and Aurora had bent to help him sit up, Emma had wanted to flee. Those startling blue eyes had a power over her that she didn't understand. She had known he was lying as soon as he began telling them his alibi, and yet Emma had found herself wanting to believe him. She had been cross with herself for that dangerous longing he stirred and excessively harsh with him in response. That was nothing compared to what had happened when they were atop the beanstalk together however…
Frighteningly, she'd nearly felt her heart stop when she had felled Anton with the poppy powder and hadn't seen Hook anymore. Those few seconds when she had feared he might be crushed beneath the giant had clenched her chest so tightly that she could barely draw breath. She had felt it again when he nearly walked into the tripwire as they had searched the treasure hoard. She had pulled him back from the danger and flush against her own body before her mind could catch up with her actions. Her heart had thudded so hard she had been sure he felt it too, so when he had smirked at her, knowing and lusty with his arms wrapping around her in return and his "about bloody time" heating her insides, she had wanted to smack him across the face and yell at him to be more careful instead of squirming out of his grasp weakly and fighting the urge to remain there instead.
Then she had gone and left him, shackled and betrayed. He would cost her too much, she had warned herself then as she backed away from him, preparing herself for flight. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to block out the pleading, open look on his face. His hurt, disbelieving eyes as he had reminded her, "Have I told you a lie?" haunted her the entire way back down the beanstalk, and even as she, her mother, and their two new princess friends trekked onward.
Emma had tried to tell herself that she was only making sure he didn't double-cross them, only insuring that they held onto the compass and got back to Henry. But the more distance she put between herself and Hook, the more she actually found her poor, addled heart hoping he would catch up to them and rejoin their cause. What she had really been afraid of was the weakening in her guard walls after only the short time they had spent together. She didn't want to trust anyone, didn't want to care, and he had made her do both far too easily. Emma had found herself wishing Hook would figure that out and understand what she had done as clearly as he had read so much else about her while they'd climbed. She had not been ready to chance being wrong about him, but he'd had her closer to risking it than she had been in a long, long time….
How many times
will you let me change my mind and turn around?
I can't decide
if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown.
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me
'cause I'm already falling
I've never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home
Back in Killian's room in the ICU, Emma smiles briefly, ruefully at the old memory. She and the pirate have actually laughed at it since then. His willingness to put her betrayal behind, to forgive and forget warmed her and helped her to piece their journey and the tentative partnership they now have back together in her mind once her memories were returned in New York.
Her hand slides down his arm wistfully, wishing she could know if he can feel her touch, if he knows he is not alone, and aching to hear his rich, accented voice tease her about not being able to keep her hands off him. Her fingers come to rest at his stump, covering the pale, puckered skin which is normally hidden by his hook and brace. Instinctively she knows he would feel naked and exposed, defenseless with his namesake gone and the remaining limb on display. Covering it with her palm and wrapping her fingers around what would be his wrist feels to her akin to holding the missing hand, as if she is offering him assurance that he is safe, she sees everything, and thinks nothing less of him for it.
Emma's eyes flutter sleepily, not knowing when she was last able to rest; not since he was attacked as least, but the last few days have been wild and intense as well. A good night's sleep seems a distant memory, and just like that, a tired haze engulfs her, lulling her into oblivion, her head lowering to rest on the bed beside Killian's still form. She is even snoring lightly by the time she is swept up in a nightmarish flashback of what had happened and how close they had come to losing him. It's like she is right there all over again…
It is the night Zelena had challenged Regina on Main Street. The witch fight has ended, Regina has headed into the woods alone, and everyone else in the crowd is dispersing. Emma is just about to head back to her rented room at Granny's when she hears an evil, spine-tingling cackle ring out echoing in the night air from the harbor. Her heart is immediately in her throat, flying to the two most important people in her world. 'Henry," she whispers, so terrified it barely registers, her mind echoing afterwards, "Killian…"
Then she is running to the Jolly Roger, knowing she left Hook and Henry vulnerable. She thought she was keeping them from the fray, but instead she had put them out in the open without her own – or anyone's – protection. By the time she has the docks in sight, she is sprinting full-out, feet pounding on the wooden slats, lungs bursting, praying desperately that she will reach them in time.
The sounds of water lapping calmly just below lulls her into a false sense of security as she finally reaches the gangplank to his ship and can see her two men standing on the deck looking out to the horizon companionably. Hook is pointing out something in the clear blue sky, bending to speak to her son, and Emma's heart warms for a second, watching them as she catches her wheezing breath. Relief washes over her; the sound must have come from somewhere else. They are safe, unhurt, and she has gotten to them in time.
Of course, as soon as she lets herself calm down, it all falls apart again. She has barely stepped onto the deck with them when the air is rent by the rush of wings and screeching howls of a horde of the Wicked Witch's monkeys. Killian's gaze flies to hers across the space between them, immediately shielding Henry with his body and putting himself between the boy and the nearest simian attacker. The look in his blue eyes is infinite and engulfing; even as quick and panicked as it is, it shows her all of his longing, determination, and love. If these winged freaks intend to hurt her or her son, it fiercely seems to promise, they will have to go through him.
She doesn't have time to react, or even to reach them, swallowing around the lump that has formed in her throat, blocking her airway. They are soon surrounded by the howling monsters, alighting all around them on the Jolly Roger and blocking any route of escape. The hideous laughter sounds again, and then Zelena herself stands before them.
Trying to appear clam and unafraid, Emma takes a step closer to her son and her pirate. "You just love to make an entrance, don't you Zelena?" she notes, forcing her voice to sound bored and unimpressed.
Their adversary's brow furrows in anger. "Don't mess with me, Pretty," she hisses, barely acknowledging Hook edging closer, hand inching carefully to the hilt of his sword. "You must know that I intend to deal with my little sister. I have a plan in motion that you will not disturb. Understood?"
Emma arches a brow, not arguing, but returning Zelena's feral look with one of her own that seems to ask, 'Really?! You think that's gonna scare me off?'
The Wicked Witch's eyes gleam evilly, almost thrilled with the challenge that Emma is obviously offering her. "Oh, you will steer clear of me, or I will rip you limb from limb…like this!"
Without a moment's pause, she flings her hand out at the same time that she shouts a curse. Killian flies backward, struck by whatever she has levied at him. Before Emma can counter the action, Zelena's simian guards attack from all sides – shoving Henry aside and rushing Hook so that she can hardly see her pirate's form through their hairy bodies. She hears his growl of rage and a howl of pain, along with their grunts and the sounds of ripping and tearing that nearly bring bile rising up in her throat.
"Killian!" she screams, afraid he truly will be shredded to pieces by the time she reaches him. Unthinking, Emma throws herself in the melee, bowling over several of the large apes in her desperation and feeling her stomach roll as Zelena's roar of triumph rings cruelly in her ear. She shoves forward, trying to reach him, and then letting out a gasp of shock and falling to her knees beside him when he is visible once more. She throws her own body over his like a shield, refusing to allow them to get past her to do any more damage. The cacophony of wild shrieks, beating wings, and claw feet scuttling grows even louder and more frenzied, but she steels herself and clings to Killian for dear life.
"Enough!" the Witch's commanding voice rings out like a steel blade, striking all her primate henchmen still. They part for her as she stalks closer to glare down at Emma icily, completely in control and relishing the chaos she has wrought. "This is the only warning you'll get, Princess," she intones, tisking with fiendish glee at the blood now staining Emma's shirt and hands from the open gashes and tears bleeding freely from Killian's many wounds. "Stay away from me and my revenge, or you won't even live to regret it. You've already lost one you hold dear – or at least, you're about to. Next time, it will be your precious little boy over there," she motions toward Henry fighting the grip of two monkeys, kicking and yelling in his efforts to reach his mother and Hook, "and then you at last."
In a sudden column of green smoke, she and all her flying monkeys vanish, but Emma barely registers it, already fumbling with her phone to dial an ambulance and trying to staunch the blood from way too many exit points. Henry is beside her, holding his jacket tightly to a wound in Hook's leg, looking to her for some sign of hope and silent tears running down his face. She is most terrified by the gaping wound nearly laying his gut open, and she heaves in a ragged breath, willing herself not to either be violently ill or fall apart sobbing at the fear and pain in Henry's eyes and the sight of this strong, daring man lying before her shaking and groaning incoherently, body already going into shock…
The horrific memory ends when she jerks into wakefulness about to scream, panting for air and trying to get her bearings. Emma has yet to see Killian's lovely blue eyes open again since the attack, but she is finally willing to admit that she needs him to come out of this. Just needs him plain and simple. It's a frightening thought, not just because she can't afford to need someone, to allow that dependence and trust which has only brought her pain in the past, but because admitting she cares for someone has proved the fastest way to make that person vanish or be taken from her life. She doesn't want him hurt because she is the Savior – because someone will always seemingly be after her – at least not any more than he already has been.
The walls seem to close in, surround her, as she realizes she wants his arms to hold her, be her refuge, and that she wants to fight allowing herself that luxury just as strongly.
"Just open your eyes, Killian," she pleads to his silent, unconscious form. "Maybe then I'll know what to do."
The world is coming down on me
and I can't find a reason to be loved
I never wanna leave you,
but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone…
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me
'cause I'm already falling
I've never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me
and I'm home…
Days continue to pass as Emma waits at Killian's bedside. David, Snow, and Henry filter in from time to time, to see if she needs anything, to show their support, and to see if there is any change in the Captain's condition. She feels awful that she is not spending more time with Henry, that she is probably worrying her parents, and that she is making her true feelings for Killian blatantly obvious without offering any explanation, but she can't bring herself to leave his side. He has no family, no friends, no one in this world at all except her – he'd as much as told her so with his words in the Echo Caves so long ago, and in the actions that have all been for her ever since. She knows what it is to be adrift in the world – completely alone – and she truly hates that she never made sure he knew things are different now. That he is not alone anymore.
Sighing, she looks down at her own forearm, freshly wrapped in gauze and only aching faintly now. She had been so full of adrenaline and panic for Killian that she had not even registered the bleeding gash the monkeys had left her with until David had skidded onto the scene, lights flashing on the squad car, mere moments after the EMTs.
"Emma! You're hurt!" he had burst out with fatherly concern as she climbed into the ambulance with Hook. The fear for both of them, but his only child especially, was clear on his face, and Emma remembered belatedly that he had seen the last attack victim turn into one of the flying menaces before his very eyes. For whatever reason, she didn't fear that. It seemed the Witch had different plans for them.
"I'll be fine," she tried to assure him as the ambulance doors were closing. "They'll patch it up at the hospital. Take care of Henry?"
David had nodded curtly and stepped back. As the emergency vehicle had sped off toward the hospital, she was oddly comforted by the view her father wrapping his arms around her son and helping him into the passenger seat of the cruiser. The knowledge of them following right behind and the continuous flashing of the blue and red lights out the back window lulled her panic, if only a fraction. It hadn't been often in her life that she had been able to have the assurance of her father's presence backing her up, anxious to help, but she used it to steady herself as she watched the EMTs work and saw how much blood Killian had truly lost and how torn up he really was. 'He's going to be alright,' she had recited over and over in her head as she watched.
Still using that mantra now, Emma lingers by his side as day melts into night, then day and night again. She had clawed and scraped against her own feelings for so long, tamped them down deep in hiding from the pirate, not willing to admit that she was only fooling herself, that he could see through her despite her best efforts. So it is shakily and reluctantly that she leans over to whisper in his ear. "You have to open your eyes, Killian Jones. I don't even care how much you gloat that you were right about us, as long as I see you awake again. I ne – "here she sucks in a great, gulping breath before she can continue, "I need you with me."
Her hand comes up to rest over his heart, hoping it lends some warmth and comfort. Here is the one person who has kept returning to her, no matter how often she sends him away or holds him off. Now that she can finally accept him, he has to manage one more return. Doesn't he?
I tried my best
to never let you in to see the truth
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved
'til you put your arms around me
…I've never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home...
Morning dawns hazily, the sky overcast and grey, on the third day Killian has been in the hospital. Emma wakes reluctantly, hoping the gloomy weather isn't a sign that things will get any worse. She is already blinking back a renegade tear, missing her pirate, his saucy smile, constant innuendos, and solid support so much that she can hardly breathe, when she turns to look at his still profile.
It takes her a moment of stunned disbelief to comprehend that his eyes are open and he is staring blearily back at her. Those long, luxurious black eyelashes flick over his blue, blue eyes tentatively, as if he is trying to put everything back in focus. "Where are we, Darling?" he asks, his voice scratchy with disuse, but so welcome she can hardly keep from crying out in joy. "Are you alright?"
She flings herself into his arms, heedless of his injuries in her need to hold him and let him know how much she has missed him, her few earlier tears turning into a full-fledged flood. "Am I alright?! "she gasps out incredulously. "It's you we almost lost!"
"Easy, Love," he exhales, feeling the pain at contact, but not wanting to send her back out of his arms. What happened is returning to him in bits and pieces, but mostly he just wants her here with him like this, the only sort of home he has felt in hundreds of years.
She eases up only enough to meet his eyes and tries to sniffle her tears back under control. Her cheeks blush red, and for a second she is tempted by the old urge to run, to get out before she cares any more for him, before this causes her even more pain.
Slowly, he raises his hand to cradle the side of her face, looking as if he can't believe she is real and here beside him. The wonder in his eyes, and the fact that he has come back one more time quells the doubt and moment of anxiety. She isn't running again – not from him. Killian is the one who has broken down her walls, and she never wants to go back to the way she was.