Somwhere Over the Rainbow

by letsmarvelus

AU Captain Swan: Storybrooke High senior Killian Jones stars his life movie. He's in charge of the music, the characters, what happens, what doesn't. But there are things Killian has to deal with Otherwise, life seemed normal for Killian. He could handle anything, right? Until Emma Swan comes into Killian's life. Then everything changes...Everything. My first Nanowrimo failure

1. Chapter 1

KILLIAN

Now picture this: the scene is your typical 50's black and white mystery movie. I'm stalking into the room, a large, bulky man forcing me into the office for questioning. No jazz music here, ladies and gentlemen, my life is on the line.

The leader of his gang greeted me with an evil smirk, a venomous eye patch, and a bewitching laugh.

"Ah Killian," he crackled, stroking the white hissing Persian cat on his lap. "You thought you could escape me, didn't you?"

"You can't handle the truth!" I spat, forcing our crinkly villain to flinch in disgust.

The old man put his cat down and proceeded towards me. He stopped about two feet in front of me, frowning abruptly in my face.

"Where is it Jones?" he started hoarsely, his fluffy eyebrows furrowing down.

I said nothing.

"Damn it, Jones!" he roared, clutching fistfuls of my shirt into his grimy hands and shaking me. " WHERE IS IT?!"

AUGUST

"Killian," I sigh. "I'm not here to kill you. Focus."

I've seen some messed up stuff over the years being the only therapist in Storybrooke, but this just takes the cake. I take a deep breath of relief as I see his eyes blink in recognition. Poor kid. I've heard of people creating their own world in their mind to escape reality, but thinking your whole entire life is one big movie?

"You talkin' to me? Well, I'm the only one here!"

"Thanks Robert DiNero," I murmured. "Okay, Killian. Let's get back to the session. Tell me...tell me your story."

Killian paused for a moment, his eyes projecting his deep thought.

"MY story? Okay." 'Ah yes.' I finally thought, 'Now we're getting somewhere.'

"It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child."

'Oh no.'

"I remember the day, sitting on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi."

'Dear Lord,' I groaned.

"Really?" I played along weakly. 'Why did I listen to my mother?'

"And one morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas," he continued, as I put my head in my hands, trying not to sob. "How he got in my pajamas, I don't know."