He isn't sure why a tie is so much less comfortable than a cravat, but he wants to tug on it all evening. Killian reminds himself not to pull on his necktie and settles into his seat. The paper program is difficult to read with one hand because he can't hold it open well. He struggles with it for a moment and then a hand holds it open for him.
"Here," she says, "I can hold it." Maleficent turns in her seat, shifting closer to him. "The students did this themselves. There's drawing of me on the second page and I think they did a great job with the horns."
He hasn't seen her horns that closely, but if she's happy with them than the drawing must be good. She holds open the first page, waiting for his permission to turn to the next.
Henry's foreword sits on the inside cover, and the lad is quite eloquent as he expresses his thanks to the town and his family in a grateful couple of paragraphs.
"I'm so proud of him," she says.
"I think everyone is." He drags his hand through his hair, and smiles." Probably the whole bloody town, but it's well-earned. Writing a play is a difficult thing, and it can't have been easy to balance everyone."
"You mean writing a play where your mothers are the protagonist and the antagonist, and your stepmother dies at the end."
He grins. "I will admit to a certain relief in knowing that I will not become a character until the next installment."
"But which of these charming children will have the honor of portraying you then?"
"I imagine the most dashing one."
She smiles at that, tilting her head towards the program. "Are you ready for the next page?"
"By all means."
She holds the program quite steady for a while, then her hand moves, jumps. Killian turns his eyes to her, and she stares straight ahead, without looking. Her free hand rests on her belly, and it seems her attention is drawn to that.
"Are you all right?"
Her sigh drags up from her chest. "it seems something always has to hurt lately."
Emma has mentioned that as Maleficent nears the birth of this child, she's been increasingly uncomfortable in a way Snow White never was. Contractions come in bursts, taking her strength and concentration for a time, and then leave her no closer to the child's appearance. Emma's face went soft in sympathy when she told him, and though he understands little of the process of childbirth, he knows pain, and how frustrating it can be when it arrives for no reason.
"My hand still hurts, on occasion," he offers, holding up the hook. "Worse than the pain is when it itches and I can't scratch a place that no longer exists."
"So you live with it." she agrees, shifting in her seat. "I'm fine, and I shall endeavor to hold the program on a steady course."
Chuckling, he touches her hand and her skin's so warm. "Cargo that won't stay put is always difficult. Cargo that moves on its own, well, that's something I usually tried to avoid."
Mal smiles at him, perhaps grateful for the distraction. The lights dim and she tucks the program away. Her hand lays on the armrest between them, but her fingers go taut light leaves them.
That remains in his thoughts as the play opens on Emma, at least, a young woman's version of her, sitting along with a tiny cake and a single candle. She blows it out, leaving them all in darkness, then someone knocks. Tiny Roland yells his lines through a door, and the story begins. A son finds his mother and brings her home, to his other mother who would rather the whole thing just went away. He's read the storybook, heard these recounted to him several times, but seeing it acted out with miniature version of everyone who is now his family touches his heart.
Also, the young woman playing Regina has just the right amount of menace, Roland remembers most of his lines, and young David and Snow stare at each other with a kind of heartfelt longing that reminds him watching young loves in taverns. All love can appear the same, in moments.
Watching this is a pleasant enough way to spend an evening, to be sure. He knows the gist of the plot well enough that his mind wanders occasionally, and during one of the wanderings, he notices that the hand occupying the armrest is tight again. Much tighter than before, in fact, her own arm is rigid with strain when he touches Maleficent's wrist. He rests his hand over hers, questions without speaking. To his surprise, her hand turns in his, taking his as if he'd offered. Perhaps he did. He's not sure how close they are, being that simply being the shared potential step-parents of a boy with a great abundance of family does not make them friends. Killian does not wish to presume a closeness that is absent.
Regardless, in this moment, she plainly needs one, so he squeezes back and waits for her grip to lessen before he whispers. "You're damaging the upholstery."
The play continues. Theatrical-David, a friend of Henry's, has just arrived in the forest, ready to be robbed by theatrical-Snow White back in the Enchanted Forest.
He can barely see her nod in the weak light, trying to relax her fingers.
"Are you all right?"
"I think–" Her whispered protest dies in her throat. This is not mere discomfort. This is something else. "It's nothing, again," she insists when she has breath again.
"Regina and Robin are just down there," Killian says, tilting his head. "I can get them."
"No, not now, not yet."
"I'm here, he whispers back. "But be gentle, I only gave the one good hand."
"Maybe you should let me hold the hook," she teases back and the pain lessens in her voice.
He shifts, passing that over as well. He doesn't expect her to take it, but having it there might make her smile. "Shall I remind you to breathe?"
"Only if I stop."
Maleficent settles into her seat, and her breathing slows, calms. Young Snow and David defeat the trolls and part ways, with David off to marry some princess. Killian's quite forgotten her name. Nearly a whole scene passes before her hand closes around his again. There's very little he can do other than run his thumb over the back of her hand or murmur to her when her breath catches in her throat.
Centuries at sea have taught him patterns and how to find rhythms in the wind and waves, The contractions that drew Emma's sympathy were irregular, weak and random. These bouts of discomfort grow closer together as the intermission approaches and when the lights rise, he looks at her with eyebrows raised.
She nods, hesitant, but shakes her head when Regina, Robin and Emma return from the front row, cameras down for the moment.
Their faces all glow with happiness and pride, and together they speak non-stop of the wonders of Henry's writing, Roland's performance, and the flashes of magic that have been provided by Lily.
That at least makes the dragon smile in a way that even he finds utterly believable. He stands, resting against the arm of the seat between them, moving her hand to his knee. Robin and Regina are so enraptured with the performance of their children that it seems a portal to another realm could open without their notice. Emma, however, makes quick note of the way his hand covers Maleficent's. When the beaming pair head off together to fetch a cup of water and discuss Roland's performance with Marian, Emma looks from him to the dragon and back to him.
"What's wrong?"
He's quite terrible at lying to Emma, but he's saved from the prospect because it seems Maleficent is far worse.
"It's simply more of those fruitless, wasted contractions that insist on being very uncomfortable for several hours."
None of them believe that, so he does not mention that they have a decreasing rhythm that he does not need a timepiece to track or from the pressure of her fingers, he's certain they're becoming more intense.
"I'm sorry," Emma says, and her half-smile is very gentle.
"Robin and Regina-"
"Will totally flip out and want you to go home and Lily's big moment is at the end of the play," Emma finishes. She leans over to kiss him, and they share a moment of silent understand. "Don't hurt his good hand."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Maleficent replies. Robin drops off a small paper cup of water and kisses her cheek before the lights dim again and they're gone to snap a whole gallery full of pictures.
""Emma understands how much you want to see the end," he promises her, rubbing her arm through her sleeve with the round side of his hook. "When it's over, you'll need to tell Robin and Regina because these are neither irregular or weak."
Maleficent nods, pressing her lips together. "I want them to have this," she whispers back. "It's a few hours that they've been waiting weeks for."
"You believe the child will take all night to arrive?"
"And most of tomorrow," she adds, wincing.
He can't help wincing at that. Willingly walking into nearly a day of pain that only grew in intensity would intimidate anyone, himself included. If an hour or two of pretending it is not happening will help, then he is happy to oblige. Emma should have given him more to do than just wait, but if there was more, she would have told him so perhaps this is all he can do.
"Now, you are holding your breath," he whispers while the young version of Regina saves a tiny Snow White from a horse.
On his right, Maleficent shudders, releasing the air in her chest.
"We're almost to the dragon," he says. "It won't be much longer."
Her fingers squeeze his gently this time and in the darkness, he fancies that she smiles a little. This is Emma's story, and that of his family, and the earnest young performers keep tugging at his heart.
Young Regina watches her mother, a fairly appropriate portrayal of the queen of hearts, crush the heart of her beloved, an innocent called Daniel. She sobs over him, staring up at the evil who has ended her chance at happiness and he is the one who needs the friendly hand at this side. Maleficent wraps both of her hands around his and the heat of her soaks into him.
When Milah died, he returned to his ship, alone amongst his crew. He drifted, pillaged, murdered and tried to drown himself in the darkness of his heart. He failed, and found Emma. Emma comes with Henry, her parents, little Neal, Regina, Robin, Roland, and the dragon holding his hand. She is beloved by the town, and wrapped in family.
As he is now.
He's only held Neal for moments, while something's spilled or Emma needs to get her coat. He's become fond of the lad Henry, but he's interactive in a way an infant is not. He has a vague understanding of the appeal of a warm baby asleep in his arms. Robin's been aglow since the revelation of this baby's existence, and Regina's been smiling more, even beaming about the planning for the child.
Emma's brightened at their happiness, shared it because she is fond of the three of them, and protective as she always is. This eminently arriving babe is a part of their happy ending and Emma will ensure that they have it. This will probably involve him as well, and holding Maleficent's hand now may only be the start of a long night to come for all of them. None more than her, so he smiles his gratitude in the darkness, and the play moves on.
Maleficent sits forward in her seat, staring at the darkness as the lights dim so only Emma's character has the stage. She stands alone with a sword, entering a cave, and then, the dragon appears.
She emerges from behind the stage, rising out of smoke and she rears up over the audience. Surely part of it must be an illusion because the ceiling of the gymnasium is high, but perhaps not quite high enough because Lily easily rises as high as the second yardarm of the Jolly Roger.
The crowd gasps and fire flies over their heads, it's even warm, and Maleficent's grip on his hand is purely that of pride, instead of pain. Lily portrays her mother dragon well, some of the children in the audience scream as she fights with the play's Emma, and the gasps and cheers are all in the right places.
Maleficent 'dies' to a round of applause and the dragon herself sits back, sighing. He touches her shoulder gently with his hook to draw her attention.
"I imagine few have been so pleased with the depiction of their death."
She begins to murmur back, but her whisper dies in her throat.
These pains grow closer, creeping up on each other. Though she tolerates this discomfort enduring through most of this pageant, she must be tired.
"It's all right," he whispers for lack of something else to say. "Lily was wonderful."
That earns a squeeze of his hand. Watching for Emma's blonde head in the front row, where she's still taking pictures, he wonders what happens next. It's not his place, but there must be some kind of inevitability involved in sending her home, and keeping her safe.
The fervent rush of applause at the end of the show drowns a gasp of pain, and as the crowd erupts in celebration around them, he offers his shoulder and arm to get Maleficent to her feet. They share a look, a quiet moment while everyone cheers around them. The tension in her eyes eases.
"Standing is better?" he asks. He has to lean close, perhaps too close, but they're already entwined.
She nods, eyes half-closing. "Thank you."
Killian makes sure she's steady before he adds his voice to the cheering.
The final curtain call is Henry's, and his heart swells for the lad. This is his vision of their history, something of theirs that he remade and offered to them and it's clearly struck the hearts of everyone in the room. On his right, Maleficent has tears on her face that have nothing to do with childbirth.
Lily finds them first, rushing to hug her mother. They wrap together, and he tries not to stare. Lily opens her eyes and gives him an awkward smile over her mom's shoulder.
"First school play where I was ever proud of myself."
Maleficent holds her daughter's face in her hands and beams. "You were wonderful."
"I was you and I died."
Chuckling, Maleficent lowers her hands. "But you did it well."
"If you say so."
"You certainly made an impression."
"I almost didn't duck enough, and I thought the fire might have been too hot and-"
"You were perfect," Maleficent promises. "I'm so proud."
This naked affection twists his heart, warming it. He does not remember his own mother, and his father traded him away, a part of his history that still stings, yet he is surrounded by good parents. Emma, Regina, Robin, and it seems the dragon as well, because she wants nothing more than to tell Lily how wonderful she was.
Emma finds them, touching his back while Maleficent encourages Lily to go talk to everyone else: her young brothers, Granny, Ruby, and Marian will all want to see her.
"Ursula and Cruella are bound to tease you and me, for my vanity." Maleficent strokes Lily's arm again. "Of course, you were much more beautiful than I."
"I was being you, Mom."
"And you were great!" Emma adds. "Considering I was there, I feel like I can speak for how terrifying it is to have a dragon stare you down, but uh-" She flushes a little, looking down.
"It's all right, dear," Maleficent assures her, removing her hand from Killian's arm long enough to pat Emma's. "You were rather expertly manipulated into it, and fortunately for me, death didn't take too much of a hold."
"Lily!" Ruby says, wrapping her arm around her. "How was it it? You looked amazing.'
Lily gives her mother one more small smile, and tentatively follows Ruby over to be congratulated by more people. Maleficent's gaze follows her with such affection that it almost seems invasive to watch her face. He turns his eyes to Emma, taking in her radiant smile. Henry's successes mean so much to her, and this is a happy occasion.
Maleficent's fingers grip his arm when the next contractions hits, faster than he expected, she should have had more time. The sound of the crowd around them dulls her hiss of breath, but Emma still reacts, takes her hand and smiles softly.
"Are you sure you don't want Regina and Robin?"
Shaking her head, Maleficent returns Emma's smile with a weary smile of her own. "It's not bad."
Emma looks to him. "Do you have your flask?"
Killian blinks and pats his coat. "Yes, of course."
"Give it to me." Taking it from him, he touches Maleficent's shoulder, meeting her eyes. "If you drink a few swallows of rum, your contractions might slow down a little, might let you get some sleep when you get home."
"Sleep?" He asks before he realizes that he's speaking.
"Even a little bit helps," Emma says, both gentle and wise. He adores that about her. "If you can handle the taste-"
"It's quality rum."
"I'm certain it is," Maleficent assures him, taking the flask from Emma. "This is on the forbidden list."
"I'm sure," Emma says, and that smile returns. "It's late, you're tired, and little baby dragon here will be absolutely fine if you have a drink, then try and get some sleep at home. Trust me. I've seen it work".
Must be one of her bail bondsperson adventures. He'll have to ask. Her stories are often amusing.
"I'll let Regina yell at me," Emma offers and that makes the dragon smile back.
"That's very kind." Maleficent takes two draughts from his flask and hands it back. She finds his eyes, hers blue ones serious and calm. "How long do I have?"
He glances at Emma before it occurs to him that she's asking him.
"Your sense of timing is excellent."
"It is necessary when sailing," he says. He should be using a timepiece. Emma has one. "It will be soon."
"Don't tense up," Emma warns. "It's worse if you're tense."
"Good advice." Maleficent searches the crowd, as if making sure Robin and Regina are out of sight before she allows any discomfort to show in her face.
Emma, of course, is far better at this than he is. "It's hard to follow, I know."
Emma was so young when she had Henry, does she remember the advice given her then or is this collected knowledge in the time between? She always wants to help, so perhaps she knows this now so no one suffers alone as she did.
Smiling at him, Emma gives him one of those looks, the heroic, saviour glance that promises he will again help atone for his past by assisting her. He nods, his agreement without needing to speak.
"I'd like to send Killian to Regina's with you," Emma begins. "That way you won't be alone and Regina and Robin won't rush home to be with you. You have hours yet, so watch Game of Thrones, play cards, do something to keep your mind off it. Drink tea."
"No more rum?" Maleficent asks, smiling with gritted teeth.
"No," Emma answers, ever gentle. "I won't tell you it's not awful, but you'll be all right. Find Regina and say goodnight, I'll grab your coats."
The latter may be directed to both of them because he's just volunteered for something he is woefully underqualified for. Luckily, he doesn't know enough to worry about what could happen. Emma says there's time and he trusts her. It seems Maleficent does as well because the two of them leaving together becomes a plan: a plan he has agreed to.
Maleficent does not share his apprehension, because she takes his arm when he offers it and they leave the relative safety of the seats once she has her breath back.
"You have six, maybe seven minutes before you have another one. Since you have the poker face of a cabin boy on his first voyage, if you want to avoid Regina's ire, I suggest you say goodnight quickly."
"I've always hated long goodbyes," she teases. Maleficent smiles at him, almost as if testing it out before looking at anyone else. "I'm sure you've smuggled before."
"Never a dragon."
"Always a first time."
Henry's thrumming with excitement like a full sail in a stiff breeze, and luckily, he draws most of the attention because it's difficult to get a word in edgewise about Maleficent going home.
Emma, of course, comes to her rescue, coats in hand. Regina stares at her and Emma hands Killian's coat over and starts helping Maleficent into hers. "Killian's going to escort Maleficent home," she explains, entirely calm.
"What?" Regina asks, raising her eyebrow while her voice lowers. "The pirate?"
"She's exhausted," Emma speaks for her, "and Killian volunteered."
"He can't drive. How do you expect to get there? Are you taking them?"
"Regina," Maleficent begins, softening Regina's expression simply with the gentle tone of her voice. "He doesn't have to drive, all he has to do is hold still."
"And you're all right with him going with you?"
"I appreciate the company," she answers, graciously. "And I assume you would not want me to head home alone."
"Of course not," Robin agrees, concern written into the lines on his forehead. "We'll all feel better if you're with someone."
Maleficent's hand starts to tighten on his arm; their time draws short.
"I'll see you soon," she promises. Robin leads forward to kiss her goodnight but Regina hesitates.
"Are you sure you don't want one of us to come home with you?"
"Yes, quite sure, dear," Maleficent says. "Stay, enjoy the party, eat cake."
Ignoring food sparks Regina's curiosity. "You don't want any?"
Maleficent starts to reply, but Emma interrupts.
"We can bring some back for her," Emma says, smiling easily. "Regina, they'll be fine. I remember how tired I was when I was that pregnant, " That hint of past vulnerability makes Regina's expression soften. Robin nods to her and Regina steps forward to kiss Maleficent's cheek.
"Tell the boys I'm proud of them."
"Of course," Robin answers. "We'll see you soon, but don't feel like you have to wait up."
Magic engulfs them, whisking them away before the hesitation in her breathing becomes a gasp. That she saves for Regina's foyer. She wavers, shutting her eyes to focus. Free from prying eyes, she rests her hands on his shoulders, his coat absorbing the sharpness of her grip.
"I'm tempted to give you more rum," he teases. Her weak smile in return rewards him with a warmth in his chest. Caretaking is so far from his realm of knowledge that he won't even call it one of his weak suits. It's not a suit he has ever played.
"Thank you."
"I told you it was quality stuff."
Her weary laughter, even stilted by discomfort, charms him. He doubts he could be so positive in her position.
"What does it feel like?" Perhaps that's not a question he should ask, maybe she wants to think about something else. He should change the subject.
"Metal," she says, panting. "It reminds me of taking a spear in the back." She opens her eyes then and winces. "Only that did not creep forward and wrap around my stomach as this does."
He doesn't ask in which body this occurred, hopefully the dragon, so the spear would be smaller. "And standing is still better?"
"Much."
All right, he just has to get her out of her winter clothes, fix her a cup of tea and try and find something distracting they can do while standing. Simple. "Well, at least you're home."
Nodding, she presses her lips together, then sighs. Her breath stutters in her chest. Her muscles must be tight.
He scratches the back of his neck, searching his thoughts for things to say, for what to do.
"Whom did you lose?" she asks, shocking him back into his thoughts.
"Pardon?"
She has to take a breath before she can speak, but she finds words. "Watching Cora crush a heart troubled you. Who did you lose?"
"Milah," he replies, again without thinking. Perhaps it is the desire to provide distraction that makes him so willing to bare the old wound. "She was once Rumplestiltskin's wife, and she fell in love with me. We sailed the world together before we returned for her and and the Dark One killed her."
"His wife before the darkness?"
"The same."
Maleficent's grip on his shoulders eases. "I'm sorry."
"Old wounds heal with time."
"Not without scars." Her bright blue eyes study his face and he's reminded of the predators he's seen with that unrelenting gaze.
"Would you permit me to take your coat?"
She nods, even helps him by shrugging it off her shoulders. He hangs hers and his own in the hall closet and removes his boots. Regina does not take kindly to snow tracked on her floor and he will attract enough of her ire without lectures on the flooring when she returns.
He drops to one knee before Maleficent, contemplating the laces on her winter boots.
"Robin tied them," she explains. "I could use magic."
"Never fear, I am proficient in unlacing," he teases from the floor. "Years of practice with corsets and these are wider laces." Digging the hook into the knot makes it fairly easy to undo and once unbound, she steps out of her boots.
"Most gallant."
He puts her boots in the closer and returns to her side. "What?"
"I was thinking that I was once skilled in the art of removing a corset." She folds her arms over her belly and smirks. "It was a different time, but a pleasant one."
"Oh really?" He returns her smile and offers his arms again. "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought. If you'd accompany me to the kitchen, I am also proficient in the making of tea and Emma thought that was a good idea."
Notes
But you gave Maleficent rum, what are you doing? - Never fear, readers, I did some research. A little bit of alcohol inhibits oxytocin (the hormone that causes contractions) and can be useful if labor starts late at night so mom can sleep for awhile. No fic babies were harmed, I promise.