They sit in silence on the edge of the docks, feet tangled and dangling over the water. She turns in his arms and sighs, folds herself deeper into his embrace as he buries his nose in her tangle of blonde hair. She smells like the sea – salty and smooth - completely intoxicating.
They don't talk about it. They never do.
"Tomorrow will you take me out on the boat?" Her fingers drift along his arm in a gentle pattern and he knows this is how she copes with it – how she tells herself they will be okay. But he's had to barter for quite a bit of food this year (he doesn't regret it – not for a second – because she had been hungry and shaking and pale and she needed it) and his name is in there more times than he likes to think about.
"Aye." He replies and he tightens his arms around her middle – hugs her close – closes his eyes and listens to the lap of the water against the docks. "Tomorrow afternoon."
-/-
The commons is crowded with hoards of children and nervous parents, milling about in anxious groups before the Peacekeepers start moving them into position. He sighs heavily and shakes away the lead in his stomach, tries to focus on the sound of the waves in the distance. He hates these things – hates the way it leaves them shattered and broken.
"It'll all be over soon." Liam claps him on the back and squeezes gently, his blue eyes bright but nervous. Killian attempts to nod but it comes out more as a muted shake, giving his brother a lingering glance.
He tries to articulate all his thoughts in that moment – tries to tell his brother how much he loves him, how much their little family means to him, how much it means that Liam has always stood by his side – taking care of him above all else. But the Peacekeepers are moving in and shifting them to their designated sections so he settles for a careful quirk of his brow, a forced smile, and a sure nod.
It's enough. It has to be.
His eyes search for hers - drawn to her always - and he finds her lingering on the edge of the large group of girls. She's talking animatedly with her parents, hand holding tight to her little brother's.
He's 12 – his first reaping.
She turns suddenly as if feeling his gaze, blonde hair whipping over her shoulders with the movement. She's wearing a little bit of makeup - just enough to make the green of her eyes seem brighter – and he aches to reach out and touch her. She gives him a tight smile before bending at the waist and whispering in Henry's ear. Henry turns and Killian's heart twists when he sees the tear tracks on his face. Fury builds low in his chest and he clenches his jaw against it.
He gestures to the boy in encouragement as he takes a couple uncertain steps forward. Henry wipes roughly at his cheeks.
"I'm not afraid." The boy whispers and Killian smiles despite himself.
"I know that, lad. You're very brave - just like your sister." His eyes dart back to Emma and she's watching them with soft eyes, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. A Peacekeeper ushers her closer to the group of girls, moving her forcibly with a strong hand on her arm. Killian stands quickly, but Emma gives him a quick shake of her head, shrugging off the Peacekeeper and taking her place amongst the other 16 year old girls.
"Come, Henry. We best get you to your place." Henry nods, letting Killian take his hand and guide him to the rest of the young boys. They stand huddled together – like sheep in a storm – and it rips him apart to leave Henry standing there alone. He moves to his place amongst the 16 year old boys just as the Capitol anthem begins to play over the speakers and he grimaces, looking for her blonde hair amongst the girls.
He finds her and lets his gaze trace her taut shoulders, the soft curve of her neck. Regina, the Capitol's escort for District 4, unfolds herself from her prim position seated on the edge of her chair, standing with a look of utter disdain twisting her lips. Killian rolls his eyes and urges his heart to calm.
She gives her usual speech but his mind his numb, hearing blocked out by a loud buzzing. He closes his eyes and focuses on the good – the sea, the blue of the waves as they crest over one another. The way her hair looks as she emerges in the surf, how it clings to her skin, nearly translucent in the sun.
He thinks of her laid out beneath him in the sand, the way she gasps when his fingers graze hip bone to hip bone, the way she whimpers his name when –
"Emma Swan."
His eyes fly open with a gasp and he knows it isn't a dream because he can see Liam from the corner of his eye – two sections over, turning fully to look at him with sharp eyes. He sees the way her body crumbles, the utter defeat in the lines of her face. And he hears the panicked shout from the back of the crowd – her father stepping forward – heartbroken anguish expressed in an inhuman sound.
He breathes in deep, breathes out harder.
Not her, not her, not her.
He never thought it would be her.
She hesitates before mounting the stage, clenches her hands hard, and he breaks, shatters to a million pieces with a whimper under his breath. The boy next to him grabs him roughly by the upper arm, pulling him back from the center aisle he didn't even realize he moved in to.
"Not here." The boy (Jefferson?) mutters but Killian is too caught up in watching her as she moves. She shuffles across the stage and turns, facing the crowd. Her eyes find his.
And he breaks again because she's looking at him and saying goodbye and it's too much and not enough and he is hardly aware that his chest is heaving, that his hands are shaking – because she's saying goodbye and it isn't fair.
He doesn't even realize Regina has drawn another name until he sees the way Emma's face falls – the way her eyes widen and a single tear falls down her cheek. He tilts his head in confusion and then there is a much louder commotion from the parent's section. Emma's father David is being held back by two armed Peacekeepers, her mother Mary Margaret sobbing openly. He turns his head back towards the stage in alarm just as Henry steps forward – head held high – being brave.
Just like his sister.
Just like his sister.
He moves without thinking, shoves out hard into the center aisle. He can feel everyone's eyes on him, burning into him with startling intensity. A Peacekeeper grabs him and pulls him back but he pushes him off, fixes his eyes straight ahead.
"I volunteer."
Gasps echo around him, a loud shout from the boy's section - and he knows Liam well enough to know what that sound means - so he just moves forward, keeps his gaze straight ahead. He doesn't look at her – he can't look at her – carefully turning Henry back into his section as he passes by, ruffling the hair on top of his head.
He climbs the stairs with herculean effort, focuses on his movement of his feet to keep himself from throwing up. Regina is beside herself with excitement – a volunteer tribute is rare and makes for excellent television.
"And what is your name, dear?" She thrusts the microphone into his face as he raises his eyes, looks out on the crowd. They're restless with energy and the Peacekeepers look nervous, shifting from foot to foot, weapons held just a little bit tighter against their chests.
"Killian Jones." He stutters out and his eyes lock on Liam. He's furious, being held back by two other boys. "I'm sorry." He says, thoroughly unable to help himself. If he's going to die, he's atleast going to apologize to the one person it matters to. He never wanted this for Liam, never wanted to cause him any pain.
His eyes drift through the crowd and land on David and Mary Margaret. David is no longer being held by the Peacekeepers, instead holding Mary Margaret tight to his chest. He grabs the microphone in front of him, crushes his fingers over Regina's to hold it steady.
"I'll keep her safe." He says with assurance and a low fervor spreads through the crowd, bodies jostling into one another, like animals ready to strike. But he keeps his gaze focused on the red-rimmed eyes of David, promises him with everything inside of him. "I'll make sure she gets back to you. I swear it."
Regina wrenches the microphone away from him and then they're being forcibly pulled away from the crowd – Peacekeepers pulling them roughly into the old state house just as the crowd erupts around them. There's screams of anguish and then the door slams in front of them, leaving them alone in dark silence.
Emma turns to him with wide eyes, entire body shaking.
"What did you do?" She whimpers. "Killian, what did you do?"
His mouth opens and closes and then her hands are sliding over him, twisting in his hair and crushing him against her. Her mouth falls into his as she kisses him desperately, the saltiness of her tears mingling with the sweet taste of her. She nips at his bottom lip with a sob and flattens her hand against his heart.
"We had afternoon plans, love." He whispers and she chokes out a laugh mixed with a whimper. Her fingers curl in the old button down that used to be Liam's, pulling him even tighter against her. "Couldn't let you go it alone."
If he closes his eyes, he can hear the ocean in the distance.