"Are you sure, dad?" Emma asked. "Six weeks are a long time."
"And God knows after everything you've been through, you deserve a little time for yourself," David told her firmly, "the three of you do." He motioned his head towards Killian and Henry who were carrying wooden boxes across the gangway of the Jolly Roger.
Emma's fond look followed her son and the man she loved, and she smiled. Six weeks crossing the sea on the Jolly Roger, only the three of them, no impending danger, no life-threatening force to worry about after their last ordeal – it sounded like a dream. Still, part of her felt guilty about turning her back on Storybrooke even for a limited amount of time, the rest of her family and friends, leaving her parents and Regina in charge, leaving it up to them to deal with any eventual crisis that might appear. After all, like Killian had once said, there was always a crisis. So, she protested again: "Yeah, but what if..."
"Aren't you a little full of yourself, Savior?" Regina mocked with that slight innate regal arrogance in her voice that was so much her, but the underlying warmth in her tone took the edge off it; so did the barely perceptible, but nevertheless fond smile around her mouth. She knew what she owed her former enemy.
Emma played along and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you can handle it," she replied. "But six weeks without Henry?"
"Of course I will miss him," the other woman replied, "but your father is right. I think this vacation is also good for him." She nodded towards the tall teenage boy who was just elbowing Killian and saying something to him with a whimsical expression on his face to which the pirate laughed and smacked Henry's shoulder. "Looks like he's quite fond of Captain Guyliner," the former Evil Queen stated soberly. "The next family vacation is mine," she finished and waved Emma off. "Now go!"
Shared custody, Emma thought. We've come a long way since 'he is MY son'. She wanted to reply something, but her mother nudged her from behind. She turned around.
"I think your boys are getting impatient," Mary Margaret smiled and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. Emma's eyes followed the indicated direction and saw both Killian and Henry standing on deck in a very similar pose, leaned against the railing, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, awaiting her with almost identical grins. Her pirate had added his trademark cocked eyebrow to the appealing mix. Emma smiled and waved, allowing herself some carefree joy and eager anticipation for the first time since Killian had come up with the idea.
"Okay, okay, I'm going," she said and hugged her mother first, then her father. "But if anything comes up..."
"...we'll know how to reach you guys," David finished and pushed her unceremoniously towards the gangway. "Have a great time."
She waved one last time at everybody, then she climbed the ship. Killian smiled and pulled her into a brief, but firm embrace, before he motioned Henry to help him haul in the gangway. "Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, m'lady," he teased. "Ready to set sails?"
Soon after, the majestic two-master that looked as if it belonged in another world – and technically, it did – was quietly gliding through the Gulf of Maine. Protected from unwanted attention by a cloaking spell Regina had provided, they were about to cross through the sea along the coast of Maine for the next six weeks. That the Jolly Roger herself was made of enchanted wood did help, of course. The former pirate ship was packed with everything Killian, Emma and Henry would need, and thanks to other magical precautions Regina had taken, they would be fine without having to stock up supplies.
It hadn't been long after Killian and Henry had brought Emma back from the abyss of darkness threatening to suck out all of her essence, that Killian had suggested to take mother and son on a sailing trip. The purpose was to just spend some quality time together, to help them breathe again, reconquer some normality – reconquer their lives. And it seemed to work: as soon as they'd left Storybrooke behind, the weight of memory and responsibility – and partly guilt – appeared to have been lifted from Emma's shoulders. She smiled as she watched her son and the man she loved work hand in hand, like a clockwork almost, to keep the ship on course – as if they'd done it a thousand times before.
Sure, their relationship had seen bumpy seas too; Henry's first experiences with the pirate hadn't been the best. He'd shot Belle, a sweet and innocent woman, wounded and almost killed Gold and conspired with the people who'd tried to destroy Storybrooke, kill Neal and then abducted Henry to Neverland. The next occasion they'd met, of course, he'd seen Hook risk his life to save him and stick to their sides from then on, and if someone did believe in second chances, it was Henry. He was the truest believer, after all. And like everybody else, it didn't take him long to see how happy Killian made his mother and that he was utterly devoted to her. Had they already grown to be more than friends – it wasn't even necessary to call them family – then their adventure in the parallel universe created by the ruthless former author Isaac had forged an even closer bond. Nobody had been surprised – and everyone had accepted – that Killian and Henry had been the ones to captain the mission Save Emma. And Emma knew that she could rely blindly on them – yes, her parents, her friends and even Regina were there for her, but at the end of the day it were Killian and Henry she'd entrust with her life any time.
The ship was swaying quietly, elegantly in the mild breeze after they'd cast anchor the first night. After Killian and Henry had checked their position and made secure everything was safe for a night's stay, they ate a picnic-like dinner on deck, enjoying the peace and quietude. It was a clear and balmy night, so they'd just spread a few blankets on the old wooden planks and settled there. Although Killian had grumbled that this was a quite landlubberish thing to do, of course he'd indulged it, conceding they were on vacation. He might also just have enjoyed Emma sliding up really close to him after having polished her plate; she took his right arm and wrapped it around herself, threading her fingers through his.
The night was so clear that the stars were clearly visible before it was really dark. "Wow, in Storybrooke I never saw the stars so clearly!" Henry exclaimed and pointed to the sky. "Look, you can clearly recognize it!"
"Is this the Great Bear or the Great Wagon?" Emma asked, winking at Killian.
Henry snorted. "Neither, mom," he huffed. "And those two are one and the same. This is the Swan, actually."
"Wow, I'm impressed, kid," she replied, and she really was. "Since when are you so star-wise?"
"He's a good sailor already," Killian commented with a hint of pride in his voice that warmed her heart, and she snuggled a little closer to him, tucking her head under his scruffy chin. Her thumb caressed the back of his hand, carefully exploring every line and scar.
"I had a great teacher," Henry replied with a little grin and exchanged a meaningful glance with Killian that held more than just the conspiratorial comradery they often displayed nowadays.
"And who might that be?" Emma asked with a fond teasing in her voice.
"Make an educated guess, love," Killian suggested smoothly and a little smugly. Emma leaned a little to the side and raised her eyebrows at him.
"I see," she retorted dryly, "flattering the Captain obviously earns you easily the position of First Mate." Henry huffed in protest, but before he could say anything, Killian came to his aid.
"Not at all," he contradicted firmly, "being a good sailor does."
"What, are you saying that I am not?!" she exclaimed in feigned outrage.
"You're fairly decent, Swan," Killian soothed but couldn't refrain from adding: "...but that's it."
Emma snorted, and Henry chuckled: "Besides, mom, you're not good at taking orders."
Killian sighed theatrically. "Don't I know it!"
She elbowed him a little roughly, but nonetheless with great affection. "Whoa, now listen, guys..."
Henry raised his hands to announce his orderly retreat. "I'm saying goodnight, if I'm dismissed. Can I roam a bit through the crew's quarters, Killian?"
"Of course, lad. My ship is your ship," Killian replied. Henry waved them good night and disappeared below deck.
Emma's gaze followed him fondly before she turned to face Killian again. "So," she said and let her fingers wander up his left arm and thrum a soft melody on his biceps, "tell me again why I'm not your First Mate?" She threw him a challenging look from under her long eyelashes.
He cocked his head with a smile and ran his hand gently through her locks, his hook lightly resting on her right hip. "Because you are already the Captain's lady," he replied, "and as such..."
"You better get this right, buddy," she warned playfully, not really expecting a sexist remark, though. If she'd ever known a man who believed that women were equal to men, it was Killian Jones.
"...you're second in command anyway," he finished and raised an amused eyebrow at her satisfied expression. "That good enough for you, lass?" he teased.
"As long as you really mean it," Emma replied and brushed a kiss over the corner of his mouth. She knew he did. He captured her lips with his and made clear how important the Captain's lady indeed was. "Hmmm," she almost purred, "about that taking orders thing..."
He chuckled. "Perhaps we should take this part of the conversation below deck to the Captain's quarters?" he suggested with an electrifying spark in his eyes and a low hum in his voice. Emma's stomach fluttered pleasantly, and her skin tingled where the coolness of his hook seeped through the fabric of her shirt.
"I think that's a good idea," she replied.
The following weeks were filled with a calming, recurring routine: Killian was always the first to get up in the morning, followed soon by Henry who'd never been a late sleeper. They checked the position and condition of the ship, then took a look at the planned route for the day. They controlled the wind force and its direction and studied the charts, then Killian decided – and explained to Henry – which sails to set. Emma was amazed at how complicated it actually was and at how serious her son took the whole sailing thing. She realized with pride that he was indeed very skilled already, and she gladly let him instruct her what to do. It was a pleasure watching him at the helm, big and old and stubborn sometimes (just like its master), and Emma herself had felt its strength before. Killian let him handle it even without assistance after a few days, and a few times she saw him gently thumbing over some mysterious scratched patterns to its left and right, a melancholic expression on his handsome face.
The Captain's cabin was very busy during the day, charts and nautical instruments covering Killian's desk, and Emma even learned a little to read them. During the nights, Henry was king of the crew's quarters, while Emma and Killian had his cabin to themselves. They finally had the time and chance to get familiar with each other, to learn and search each other's bodies and souls more and more, if that was even possible, to map gently, explore bravely, brand passionately. Breathless vows and kisses were exchanged in the starlit silence of that cabin, tears were spilled and tenderly dried, words of passion were whispered, moaned and sighed, sometimes revering, sometimes dirty, but always filled with love.
Some days they did nothing but go ahead, other days they took their lazy time, anchoring for fishing or even for a dive into the ocean which Emma and Henry did with enthusiasm. Afterward, she loved to rest on a towel on the sun-warmed planks until she wasn't sure anymore if the salty droplets trickling down her spine were still the sea water dripping from her ponytail or already new sweat blossoming under the heat of the August sun. Killian was not so fond of swimming, which was a shame in Emma's eyes because he sure looked damn fine in swimming shorts.
She spent a lot of time roaming across and through the ship which she did with interest – learning so much more about Killian's beginnings than she had ever been able to. She was glad to see him on his ship again, and under other circumstances than the trip to Neverland; she loved to see that self-confident side of him. Both Emma and Henry eagerly listened to his stories, the swashbuckling adventures and the serious ones, the funny, the painful and the sad ones. Stories of pain and loss, but also of joy and hope. Killian told Henry about Milah, his forgotten grandmother, and about his father and the time they'd spent together when Neal had barely been older than Henry was now. Emma listened closely and watched them both with fond preoccupation, Killian talking and Henry listening, and she wasn't sure how that was possible, but never for one minute did one of them feel awkward.
"It's kinda weird, isn't it?" Henry remarked one day when he was below deck with Emma, fetching stuff for their meal.
"Weird?" she echoed. "What do you mean, kid?"
"Killian and grandma Milah," he shrugged, and Emma swallowed anxiously. "And my dad. I mean, what are the odds?"
"Mhm," she made vaguely and asked tentatively: "Do you mind?"
Henry grinned. "I meant a good weird, mom," he soothed, sensing her nervousness. "Can't be any weirder than Rumpelstiltskin being my grandfather and my adoptive mom being my step-grandmother at the same time, right?"
Emma grimaced. Her son would never cease to amaze her. "Right."
"Makes it somehow like it was meant to be, don't you think?" Henry mused and added: "Feels even more like family."
"More?" she echoed and threw him a pleased glance.
Henry elbowed her fondly. "Yeah," he grinned and emphasized again: "More."
Emma pressed her lips together and smiled, perfectly aware of what he was really saying. "I love him," she said spontaneously.
Henry cocked his head at her in a gesture that reminded her an awful lot of Killian. "Don't I know it, mom," he replied in amused voice; a tone indicating that it was okay.
They had set sails as a hell of a team tied together by deep emotional bonds. But when they returned to their home port in Storybrooke, they cast anchor as a family.