For those of you who have followed me over to an entirely new fandom, I thank you for your loyalty. For those of you who have never heard of me before and you're a new reader, welcome! New or old, I hope you enjoy this little tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Captain Swan shares a lot of the same traits that got me hooked (no pun intended) on Delena in The Vampire Diaries. CS is truly something special, so of course I had to write about them. This story is AU/NO MAGIC. There will be romance and language that earns the M-rating, and there will be angst because I do so love it. And thank you to my wonderful friends, Sandra and Morgan for their beta skills and enthusiasm. I wouldn't have had the courage to post without you, ladies! Welp, I think I've talked enough. Happy reading! ~Kate
Emma can finally say she knows what they're talking about when they say the worst pain ever felt is that of a broken heart.
The organ in her chest is tugging, pulling, and twisting and she's having trouble pulling air into her lungs.
She's just barely able to get her question out, asking why he did what he did; her throat so tight her words sound garbled and she isn't sure he understands after minutes of silence. Her eyes are stinging and her vision is beginning to blur. She's prepared to ask her question again.
He looks over his shoulder and before shutting the door behind him, he speaks.
"I'm sorry, Emma."
He'd heard her question after all.
Two hours have passed since that moment. Two hours since the moment Neal had made her feel as though he'd reached into her chest and ripped out her heart, and the only thing that burns worse than the tears burning in her eyes is the alcohol scorching her throat. It's at that moment she thinks about something her father, David, had once told her: booze and depression make for a nasty combination. Yeah, well…the booze is helping to numb it, easing the pain into a dull throb rather than a searing tearing sensation beneath her sternum. She'll deal with the ramifications later.
Her body feels warm, and her arms feel tingly thanks to her new friend Jack Daniels. She lifts her empty glass into the air, wanting a refill and beaming at the handsome bartender who immediately grants her request.
"Thank you kindly," she tells him, and is about to unhinge her jaw to swallow another shot when the glass disappears from her grasp. "What the hell?"
A low, sexy chuckle sounds from behind her back and then her thief speaks to her, sitting in the stool next to hers.
"Sorry, darling. I'm feeling a bit thirsty myself."
She isn't sure if it's actually his voice or if the liquor is starting to mess with her, but it's enough to catch her attention. She raises her head and is met with pale blue eyes and nearly drowns when they suck her under. She has to blink a few times in order to snap out of it and when she does, she levels him with a glare. He stole her drink! "I understand you tried to steal my drink, but guess what?" She leans in to whisper in his ear. "You fail." She snatches her shot glass back, pleased that he hadn't emptied it yet, and knocks it back, ignoring the tingles she feels when he laughs.
"I gave it back, did I not?"
"I took it back."
"Either way, it gives me the opportunity to talk to a beautiful woman like yourself."
"Wow," she laughs and the sound nearly dies in her throat when his gaze darkens three shades. "Do you use that line on all the ladies?"
"Believe it or not," he says as he stares at her, his eyes bright and boring intensely into hers. She squirms in her seat. "It isn't a line, but the truth. An honest conversation is all I wanted but then I saw the look on your face and it was one I wanted to rid you of."
She frowns at that. She's always careful about not showing her emotions, especially in front of strangers so why is he any different? "There wasn't any look on my face."
"I hate to break it to you, darling," he smiles again and her heart jumps, "but you're something of an open book."
"Oh, really?" She is thankful her voice sounds stronger than she feels. She is always so careful. "Then read me."
He stares at her a long moment, and then the thieving stranger's brows dip. His gaze drifts over every inch of her face before meeting her line of sight. "Well, I'd wager something happened. It would explain why you're here alone, and the way you stared at each glass before consuming it. Heartache is my first guess, though it could be something a little more morbid, like a death. God forbid, of course. In any case, I can tell you are in no mood for friend-making."
She scoffs. "Friend-making?"
"Among other things." Another smile (though tilted this time in its lazy quirk) leads to another jumping of her heart. She watches his Adam's apple bob up and down as he asks, "What's your name, beautiful?"
The more he talks the more she wants him to. He definitely has an accent, smooth like honey and nearly melting her from the inside out. Warmth shoots to her lower belly that has nothing at all to do with her tipsiness.
"Emma Swan."
"Pleasure, Miss Swan." He twists a ring around his finger before offering his hand out to her. As she slips her hand into his, and their hands connect, a spark jolts through them though he doesn't let go. If anything he holds onto her hand tighter and rubs his thumb over the back of her palm.
"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" she gulps, beginning to feel her shots catching up to her.
"Many call me Hook."
"Interesting nickname, Hook. Mind if I ask why you go by something other than your real name?"
He merely gives her a lopsided grin, and then orders them each another round of drinks. Suddenly she finds herself having trouble remembering why she'd been upset in the first place.
Light pours into the room, and the first thing Emma does is bury her face further into the pillow, and throw her arms out across the mattress. A groan fills her ears and she freezes. The sound hadn't come from her, and her left harm is resting on something hard. Lifting her head and looking to the side she finds Hook raising a hand to his forehead and wincing.
"Bloody hell, my head."
No, no, no, she couldn't have...
"Well hello there, beautiful. You're still here?"
"I don't ever do this," she promises quickly. She was not one to have one-night-stands. "I mean, I have, but I don't usually…shit, sorry. I'm gonna go."
She watches Hook open his eyes again as a laugh bursts from his lips. He quiets when she wraps the sheets tight around her and moves to climb out of bed. "I'm quite certain this was mutual, darling. Don't apologize, and definitely don't leave."
He sits up and grabs her hand while she has to force her eyes to stay locked on his face – his bed sheet has slipped giving her a stunning view of perfectly carved muscles. Focus, Swan. "I'm trying to make it out of here relatively unscathed and you're dragging it out…why?"
He grins. "Maybe I enjoy your company."
At that moment she sighs, and pulls her hand out of his. She instantly feels the loss and redirects her attention to finding her clothes. One of her socks is at the foot of the bed, her other still on her right foot. Her bra's hanging on one of the posts, and she vaguely remembers Hook flinging it behind him, before ripping her panties off her body with his teeth and throwing them toward the other bedpost. She quickly grabs both, puts them on and climbs down from the elevated mattress to grab her blouse that's currently lying splayed across the floor.
"The last time this happened," Emma says as she slips into the fabric, "the guy was so blitzed he didn't wake up. So either you didn't have as much as I did, or you can handle your liquor better."
"We both know I can handle a lot," he answers easily, his lips teasing a smirk and she feels her cheeks burn. Memories of the night before are slowly returning and she has no doubt about his cocky response. "What do you say to eating breakfast with me, love?"
"You want to turn this one-night into a date?"
"Why not?"
"Because, well because…" she splutters, hating the fact that she sounds like some kind of bumbling fool as she fumbles with her buttons. "It's called a one-night-stand for a reason! You don't go out after a one-night stand, Hook."
"Again, I ask why not? It's clear we share something." When she doesn't answer, he smiles. "Aye, I knew you felt it too."
"'Aye?' What are you, a pirate?"
"My father was a fisherman, and I spent a lot of time aiding him in his efforts. I suppose I never lost the terminology he used on his ship…" A sad expression crosses his face, turning his blue eyes grey and she knows what he means by wanting to rid him of that look. She wants to wipe it away and replace it with that knee-knocking smile.
"Is that the reason for the nickname 'Hook?'" she asks, hoping that if they're going to spend the rest of the day together that she'll at least be able to know the real him.
Unfortunately, he isn't that forthcoming and she still can't get her damn blouse buttoned, realizing that she's been grasping at silky material for the last three minutes. "Dammit! I'm missing buttons."
Hook grins wolfishly. "Looks as though it's my turn to apologize."
Thankful for the well-fitting shirt Hook has lent her, the two step into the crowded restaurant. Hook grabs her hand and she notices none of the staff bother to stop him. She wonders if he works there. Or had at one point. Soon they're seated at a booth in the back of the house, next to the kitchen.
"Nicely done," Emma says. "No wait time."
"There wasn't a reason to wait when you've got strings like I do. So, Emma…"
"May I take your order?" a woman asks, walking up to the table holding her notepad and pen. She's waiting at the ready. "We have a fabulous –"
Hook looks mildly annoyed, but remains as polite as he's been with Emma. "We aren't ready to order just yet, but we'll take two hot chocolates with whipped cream. Sprinkle cinnamon on the top?"
"Sure thing, I'll be right back."
With that, the petite little brunette scurries off and Emma's having difficulty with picking her jaw up off the ground.
"I'm sorry, do you not like cinnamon on your chocolate? I'll bring her back…"
She blinks herself out of her stupor and nods furiously. "I do, actually, but I've never met anyone else who shares my taste."
"Until now."
There's a grin on his face that pulls one from her. "Until now. So…are you ever going to tell me your name?" Emma asks. "Your real one?" Hook looks down and fingers one of his rings. She remembers him doing that at the bar the night before. Was that one of his tells? Was he nervous? "Hook?"
He sighs heavily, but his lips quirk upward. "If you insist on knowing my less colorful moniker, fine. I'll tell you." He gives a small shrug and holds out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Killian Jones."
She visibly blanches, trying to understand how she could have fallen into bed with none other than one of the city's most eligible bachelors. There are flyers and posters with his name and face plastered on every corner. Last night he'd been devilishly handsome with his scruffy appearance, and the alcohol had made her fuzzy so it made sense that she didn't recognize him, but holy hell! She'd slept with Killian Jones!
"You've heard of me."
His calm reaction makes Emma wonder if he's out of his ever-loving mind. Her cheeks burn as she realizes what they've done. He's risking everything by spending time not working on his campaigns. It's the middle of election season and he's running for mayor. She isn't anything special, so what in God's name is he doing with her?
"I was afraid of that look."
"What look?" she counters, trying to force her face into a neutral countenance. "There's no look."
"Oh, sure there is. It's the one you're sporting this second and it's telling me you're going to run in thirty seconds unless I stop you." He reaches across the table and places his hand on hers. Softly, he tells her, "I'm not embarrassed, Emma. I don't know why you think I would be but I'm not."
"I'm not –"
"I told you," he says, releasing her hand and taking the mug that the waitress has dropped off at that moment. "An open book."
Just then her phone begins to ring, and she glances at the screen, knowing that Hook…Killian's seen her frown. She doesn't want to answer her phone and quickly presses the call away. No use in trying to pretend otherwise. She doesn't want to talk to Neal. He had said everything he'd needed to say to her when he walked out her door yesterday. If he's realizing his mistake, then that's just too damn bad.
"I'm poor," she blurts out, not knowing why her mouth is betraying her and gripping her mug so tight her knuckles are nearing white. "Jesus, I mean…I'm not poor, poor. But I'm not…"
"Ah," His brows furrow. "And that's why you're embarrassed. You think you're not good enough."
"No, that's not –" she swallows. "I just don't understand what you're doing here. Of all the women in this city, Hook…you chose to spend your night in bed with someone nowhere near your class level."
He surprised her by laughing. It's a full, deep, belly laugh and it almost makes her smile. "If you haven't noticed, out of all of New York City's women, yes, Swan, I did choose. I may have been intoxicated last night but my now-sober eyes are set firmly on someone, darling."
So she figures this is a pity date. He's interested in someone else, not her, just like she'd originally thought. He really was just trying to be friendly, to make sure that she wouldn't go running to the press about her romp in the sack and ruin his chances to become mayor. It makes perfect sense to her now so she nods, and reaches for her purse, annoyed by the pang of disappointment she feels.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I know when I'm being bribed."
"Excuse me?" he gawks, and she swears she sees hurt flash in his confused expression. "I'm not –"
"Sort of. With pleasantries and breakfast. Look, we fucked," she whispers, careful so no one else can hear. "And it was good, great even, but now that the night's over you've got a reputation to uphold. You don't have to worry, alright, I won't tell anyone." She throws her cross-body over her shoulder. "Thanks for the shirt, I'll have it dry-cleaned and sent back to you. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Jones."
Emma rushes out of the restaurant before he can convince her to stay, or worse, make her feel like she hadn't had the best night – and morning – of her life in years. Neal had been a boyfriend, a longtime one of four years. But their nights had grown stale, his loyalty shaky. She'd questioned infidelity but before she could question him on it, he'd gone off and kicked her to the curb but not before confirming her suspicions.
She can't possibly believe what she's feeling now is anything close to heartbreak. She'd barely known Killian Jones for five minutes before she'd ended up in his bed and yet she can't shake the tugging in her heart, the feeling that she should turn around and go back to him but she can't give it another thought.
She won't.
It's pointless because no matter what happens once she's back inside with him, she'll be reading in the paper that he's either won or lost the election, sure that either way he'll attend the gala coming up in a couple of months with a stunning woman on his arm dressed in Versace and a Cartier piece draped along her neck. She knows his date will be clinging to him and Hook will be promising the same charming, sweet nothings in her ear as he had the one night they'd spent together.
That woman sure as hell won't be her. She doesn't fit the classical, radiant type that's required for a politician on the rise.
So she ignores the tightness in her throat, waves for a cab and goes home.
Three Weeks Later
How in the hell is she supposed to focus on this upcoming interview when she can't get rid of the tectonic-sized plates shifting around in her skull?
Emma has scored an interview with City Hall, and the irony isn't lost on her. She needs this job, because being a bondsman just isn't cutting it anymore. The salary's decent, but she's not happy. She'd rather feel like she was doing a service, even if it's taking phone calls and making appointments to meet with the mayor.
Correction: the new mayor.
Her head throbs again and she knows she needs to just get it over with. No more stalling.
"Ruby," Emma calls, rubbing her forehead and waiting for her headache medicine to kick in while she stares down at her calendar. "Ruby!"
"Jesus, what?" her friend answers from the other side of their apartment. Your headache is never gonna go away if you keep screaming."
Ruby Redding is her best friend, and has been for over a decade, and if she hadn't already, she'd more than proven her title since Neal had literally walked out of her life.
"I need you to do me a favor."
"And what is that?"
She clenches the date booklet in her hands and clears her throat. "I need you to run to the drugstore."
"Well, which one? CVS?"
"Sure," she answers. "Doesn't matter which one. They all carry what I need."
"Which is…"
Emma swallows thickly, still unable to believe it. She's late. Her period always arrives like clockwork, but this month it hasn't and she's a week behind schedule. It would make sense if she's just stressed. Stress could cause a disruption in a monthly cycle. She hopes that's the reason because she cannot be a mother. She'd been thinking about having kids with Neal – douchebag that she now realizes full and well he truly is.
Word on the street is that he's been thrown in the slammer for a five-finger discount at Mr. Gold's Jewelers. It would've explained his phone call a few weeks ago, but she'd ignored it. For which she's now grateful. That day had been full of just bad and not because of a man who had broken her heart, but because of one who'd managed to sew it together and then rip it open again in less than twenty-four hours' time.
Emma never slept around, and she hadn't with anyone else since that night. There's only one person she has to worry about if what's going on with her is not due to stress.
"Emma?" Ruby waves her hand in front of Emma's face, staring at her with a look of worry. "What is it that you need me to get?"
"A pregnancy test."
Emma heads in for her interview later that afternoon, and the sound of Hook's voice does dangerous things to her heart, and other parts of her anatomy.
"…I don't see why that's necessary," she hears him say. "I have to go now. Yes, I'm doing something important. Milah, I can't talk right now. Yes, I know I did and I'm sorry for that but you must learn to let go." She winces. Is Milah someone else he'd hurt? He sounds sincere in his apology but his word choice isn't the greatest. "I said no, Milah. Goodbye now. Emma, you can come in."
Jumping at the sudden name change, and then cursing herself for letting herself be heard (she should have controlled her nervous habit of tapping her feet better), she walks into his office.
"Hello, Miss Swan. Go on and shut the door."
She does as she's told and stands there, feeling every bit as awkward as the situation really is.
"I wouldn't even be trying for this job if I didn't need it so bad."
Hook chuckles. "You're lucky it's me you're saying this to and not the original interviewer I had lined up to question you."
"What?" she gasps. "There was someone else doing this?" He must truly enjoy her suffering, she decides as he continues to stare at her with amusement alight in his blue irises. She needs to tell him. She doesn't even know for sure, but he deserves to know if there's a possibility he's going to be a father.
"Well, something told me I wouldn't want to miss the look on your face when you found out –"
"I'm late," she blurts out.
He laughs and shakes his head. "On the contrary, love. You are right on time, actually," he looks down at his watch, "you're a few –"
"No," she huffs. Bad timing. "I mean, I'm late…with the lady stuff." She watches as the color begins to drain from his face and stumbles backward. "Hook!" she rushes forward. "Easy." He mumbles something, and she guides him down into one of the two chairs by his desk while asking him to repeat what he said.
"My name. It's Killian," he breathes before snapping out of it and gripping her arms. "Emma."
"Yeah," she says, staring at him like he's a crazy person. A few seconds pass before he drops his hold on her and then steps around her, away from the desk, and away from her.
Her face falls. She knows perfectly well he's not happy about it. Not that she'd expected him to be happy, of course. Nodding her understanding, but not wanting to stick around to hear him reject her out loud, she bolts before he can.
"Swan!" he shouts after her, but she can hear his quick footfalls looming closer. He's hot on her heels, and she just wants to escape any further embarrassment so she quickens her pace through the hallway and down the stairs. And she almost succeeds in escaping until she hits the last step and trips. Strong arms wrap around her before she can hit the ground and his voice is in her ear as he growls. "Would you just wait?"
"Why?" she hisses, not wanting to draw attention from the onlookers but failing anyway. "You don't have to say anything. The look on your face says it all."
He grimaces and she almost feels bad until she does feel bad when he speaks his next words. "You ran out of there so bloody fast, you didn't exactly give me the chance to respond."
He helps Emma to her feet and she allows herself to enjoy his hands on her again for the short time it takes for her to have her balance back. "Emma, you've just dropped a bombshell on me. And it's the size of a Tsar. Aside from the fact we don't even know if you are, the mere statement threw me for a loop. Are you all right?"
"I should be asking you that. You almost passed out."
"I am, but are you? You could have sprained an ankle."
"Yes, I'm fine. Hook –"
"Killian," he implores. "Please."
"I'm a week late." She pushes her bangs out of her face. "I've been stressed from trying to snag this job. It's probably that, but we also slept together. I'm not on the pill so…"
He nods, understanding. "We need to know." He takes her hand again, and if anyone else would choose that moment to walk in on their conversation, they'd never know he'd almost lost consciousness by the way he looks now. Strong, and in control. "By the way, it goes without saying, but the job was yours the second I learned you were vying for it."
She smiles guiltily at him.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Thank you," she mumbles quietly, correcting her expression per his request. "Look, before I came here I had my friend buy me a test, but I was so nervous then that I put it away instantly. It's in my purse."
"Well, come on then."
Emma lets him thread their fingers together as they go back into City Hall and head for the restrooms.
Three minutes later, Killian leads Emma back to his office, the test in her pocket. "Well?" he asks as soon as Emma steps inside and he shuts the door.
"Stress of the new job, I guess." A smile spreads over her face. "False alarm."
"Aye, I suppose so." He's surprised to feel a pang of disappointment, but quickly masks it. He sifts a hand through his hair. The day's nearly over, and he's sure Emma hasn't eaten yet. Her stomach had growled when he'd caught her staring at the vending machine when she stepped out of the bathroom with the plastic test in her hand. "Are you hungry, Emma?" He watches as she tosses the stick in the trashcan. "Would you care to join me for dinner?"
"Can we just go to one of our houses?" She feels his presence and walks to the window. "I'm exhausted, and honestly would rather get takeout."
"If that's what you want, that's what we'll do." He doesn't even try to stifle his smile, and is about to ask her if she'd consider going out with him on another occasion, to the gala, specifically, when his phone begins to ring. Cora's name flashes across the screen.
"Who's Cora?" She's seen the screen too.
"She is my ex-girlfriend's mother." He holds the ringing phone in his hand but makes no other move, to ignore it or otherwise. "I wonder what she wants."
"Well, don't not answer on my account," Emma tells him. "Go ahead and take it."
He pauses another moment, debating on answering. He can't stand the woman, never had been able to and now that his relationship with her daughter is over, he's going to have to do his best to keep the disdain out of his voice. Right before it hits the final ring, he holds the devices up to his ear. "Jones."
"I've got great news for you."
He looks at Emma who's checking her own messages on her cell. "And what, pray tell, is that?"
"Milah misses you. Last night she was talking about how she's willing to take you back. She wants you back, Killian."
He nearly laughs. Back? He'd been the one to break it off with her. And after what he thinks he's found with Emma, quick as it has happened, there's no way he's going to put any of that at risk. "It's good to hear from you, Cora. I've already talked with her. So if you'd please, tell Milah I'm sorry but I left for a reason. We weren't right for each other."
"But –"
"No, Cora. It's finished." With that he hangs up, and leans against his desk. "That carried on far longer than intended."
"It was a two minute conversation."
A corner of his mouth turns up. "Far longer than intended," he repeats. "My apologies."
"No apologies are needed." She watches the look of gratefulness pass through his gaze and he takes a step near her, pausing when she asks, "was Milah the woman you were talking about that day in the restaurant? The woman you had your eyes set on?"
"No, not at all." He brings a hand and reaches for a tendril of her golden locks. "In fact, the only woman I have eyes for is standing before me."
Her lips curl into something of a smile and she swallows. "Oh."
A small chuckle escapes his own lips and he nods, continuing to finger her hair and enjoying the way her breath hitches when his touch changes target, and his thumb traces her jawline. "Aye, Miss Swan. Oh."
Well, there it is! The first chapter. I do have this thing loosely outlined, but I'm not entirely sure how many chapters it's going to be. If you want to make me happy (like STUPIDLY happy), please leave a review. See you next chapter! ~Kate