A/N: My first Once Upon a Time fan-fiction, set just after the events in Echo Cave. Title belongs to the fantastic Andrew Belle.
All Those Pretty Lights
It was all silvery, haze and dappled moonlight in the forest of Neverland, and the look of it; a shimmering, eerie mirage. The haunting whispers of the trees and smoky, flickering shadows conspired to paint the campsite ghostly. A lone figure, Killian, eyed the woman - Emma - standing in the forests clearing, shamelessly admiring the way her slender figure swayed in time with the rustling of the leaves. Her back was turned and in that instant, where he was unable to see her face and the tautness of her lips and the ferocity in her emerald, assassin stare, she looked deceptively fragile.
She knew he was there – the air crackled with his presence – but she didn't turn around.
"You alright, love?" He asked, as if he didn't know how monumentally her world has spun of its axis, as if he was ignorant to the way her mind must be reeling at Baelfire being alive and being here – Neverland – of all places. Killian couldn't help the pang that shot through his heart at the thought of Baelfire and the adoring and indisputably world-aligning way his eyes had fallen on Emma in Echo Cave. The Charming's had a word for those looks - true love - but to him it just sounded an awful lot like heart break.
With her back still to him, "Hook, what do you want?"
"Treasure. To hold the Jolly Rogers steering wheel with two hands," He stated, a wistful lilt to his tone, before continuing more seriously, "Oh, and to see if you're alright, lass." The leaves crumbled beneath his boots as he strolled - no, swaggered - towards her.
Emma laced her hands through her hair and tightened her fingers around the stands. "I'm fine."
Of course Emma would deny it, he thought, of course she would pretend she's fine, just fine. Who was he- Killian Jones, a mere pirate with a drinking problem - to think he could scale the walls she'd built around herself?
Killian waited until her knuckles glowed white before letting his own defense mechanism kick in: "Most women would be positively over the moon if I declared feelings for them."
He had been wrong about her fragility being an illusion. This was what he thought as she turned around, all harsh lines criss-crossing on her forehead and knitted brows. His eyes, a whirring blend of gray specks and ice, ice blue, collided with her misty, starless ones.
Staring at him she sighed desolately, "Most women didn't have to face a dead man today."
It was so unlike his Emma, his strong, determined, radiant Emma to sound so defeated. Not his, he corrected, Baelfire's Emma.
"Touché." He said simply, unsure of exactly what to say to her remark about 'a dead man'.
"If that's all you're after then…" Emma trailed off, angling her head so her gaze slide past Killian's and landed on the dying fire and multiple tents of the campsite. Killian noted the hint of her body language and almost laughed humorlessly at the universes cruelty; typical the only person to make him feeling anything in centuries doesn't want anything to do with him.
"I suppose a good night kiss it out of the question then?" Killian's words, half hopeful and half flirtatious, fell from smirking lips.
He barely batted an eyelid at the following; "Kiss me and the only thing you'll be questioning is whether or not you're in tact enough to procreate."
"Okay, okay I'll stop my dear," Killian replied with a chuckle before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and curling his fingers around the familiar metal of his hip-flask. "But just so you know, in my vast personal experience, the best companion for a sleepless night is rum," He unscrewed the cap with his mouth and held the hip flask out, beckoning her with his hook. "Go on; don't be too hasty to accept my generosity."
As Emma took it her hand skimmed feather light - and electrifying - against his and the intensity of the jolt startled him.
"I didn't realize generous was part of a pirates vocabulary."
"Have a little faith love; this is the closest I'll ever get to buying you a drink."
Emma rolled her eyes and took a swig of the rum. "I usually walk when I can't sleep" She began before taking another gulp, "I usually just walk and walk with no destination."
"You must loathe it, this standing still. It must feel like the world is closing in on you." Slowly, so slowly, Emma's expression flickered to life; eyes simmering, a smile toying on the corners of her lips. It was as if he'd ignited something inside of her, something blazing, something beautiful because she seemed to marvel at him and the fact that he understood, that someone finally understood her torment.
"Is that how you feel when you're not on a ship?" She murmured softly, her head tilted curiously to the side.
Her words caused a stir between them and just like that they weren't Captain Hook and the Savior, they were Killian and Emma, basking in the silvery glow of Neverland, their vulnerabilities bare for the other to see. In that moment Killian knew he didn't need to answer, the silence that settled between them said it all.
"Miss Swan, what do you say to a little adventure?" Killian asked, shrugging his jacket off and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.
She blinked at him, once, twice, and a third time before: "I'd say you've got to be joking."
"Certainly not love. As much as I'd love to take you on a moonlit, romantic stroll around Neverland, you and I both know we can't leave the campsite. However…" Killian paused for effect and pointed to a nearby tree with his hook. "We can climb. I promise we won't have to battle giants this time."
"I'm sorry, you know, about that." Emma whispered and Hook knew from her voice and the way it carried the weight of a thousand apologies that she meant it despite the lack of eloquence in her words.
"About what exactly?" Killian asked innocently despite his face scrunching slightly as he recalled her betrayal on the top of the beanstalk. He had watched, handcuffed to the tower, his first ray of hope walk away from him and leave him stranded. Yet, Killian thought to himself, look how far they had come since then. They were, at last, on the same side – allies - which was all he had wanted in the giant's lair.
"Don't push it." She said simply, turning away and wandering over to the tree. Killian followed, trailing lazily behind her.
"You can always make it up to me by handcuffing me to your bed instead." He called out, watching with amusement as her shoulders stiffened at his remark.
Emma let her retort die on her lips and opted for: "Alright, let's climb."
He struggled to recall as he watched Emma hoist herself up onto the first branch a time when this woman hadn't claimed the taut strings of his heart. It had seemed impossible when he had lost Milah to ever feel a fragment of the heart pounding, pulse racing, nerves blazing feeling she had invoked in him again. Love had become the figment of fractured, alcohol induced dreams until Emma and her unyielding bravery, sharp wit and iron strength had tumbled into his life, looking like an angel but acting as if she were a god-send for his shattered heart.
"That's my girl; I knew you liked a little danger." He drawled, baiting her.
"Funny, I swore I said climbing not talking." Emma shot back, glaring down at him through the foliage in the trees.
"Oh I do love it when you flirt with me, Princess." Killian swiftly pulled himself onto the first branch.
Challengingly: "Do I have to shut you up by force?"
Amused: "If you wish to try you're more than welcome to."
"You're awfully flippant for someone who got their ass kicked last time we fought. Or is selective memory part of the pirate package?"
It was quite nostalgic, Killian thought, the banter and the climbing and sizzling rush of chemistry. He wondered, as he pushed himself higher, what would have been if the stars had aligned a little differently, if Emma hadn't left him at the top of the beanstalk and defined their world by battle lines and shades of good versus evil.
"I remember perfectly Swan but I think we both know the most effective way to silence me isn't by punches," Killian began, the curve if his mouth tilted in a devilish smirk, "You know, by keeping my lips otherwise occupied so to speak."
Emma froze momentarily. "I'm guessing you didn't hear me when I said 'one time thing' huh?"
Oh how mistaken she was. Emma's words had echoed in his mind for the last twenty four hours, ghosting around the edges of his ears, meshing with the tingling of his lips and driving him mad, mad, madder.
"Why did you kiss me then?" Killian finally asked, refusing to regret the awkward way his words trembled in the air.
"Does it really matter? Just cherish the memory Hook, because even if hell freezes over it won't happen again." Emma was up to her fifth branch and as she delivered her reply – through gritted teeth and thin lips – she violently swung higher.
"If kissing me is such an unimaginably horrible prospect then why do it in the first place?" Killian pressed on, desperation lacing his resolve. He had to know why; he sought to understand her, even if it was just for a fleeting instant.
"I don't know Hook; a momentary lapse in judgement? Masochism? Pity? Pick one of the above."
Her words stung – they really did – and it was in the unexpected way Killian likened to seeing an old flame completely immersed and happy with someone else; a kind of disbelieving shock like the wind being knocked out of him.
"You're Emma Swan; you don't do something without a reason." He said simply, stubbornly because deep down Killian needed her to have one that didn't start with whim and end with regret.
"Why does it even matter so much to you?" She asked angrily, arms shaking ever so slightly.
Killian's eyes darkened slightly but his response was level: "Because, Emma, when you get Henry back and you will get him back I can tell you how the story ends: You and Baelfire live happily ever after with your son. And when that happens I want you to remember that you kissed me because that - that - means something."
The moment he said the words he knew he'd pushed her too far. They had spoken like this before, exchanging jibes and dancing around each other, two kindred spirits always on the brink of something but never knowing what that something was. Yet, this was different; this was real and just like that, with one sentence, they were tumbling, spinning, falling over the precipice and into the abyss.
Emma's head whirled around, blonde hair flying around her face and ricocheting tiny, silver rainbows as the moonlight struck it. Her eyes fell furiously onto his and he swallowed nervously as he appraised the clenching of her jaw.
"Look Hook, if my life wasn't screwed up enough by all this saviour crap I also have to worry about my son being missing and possibly turning into a lost boy so forgive me if I'm not spending my evenings dwelling on some stupid kiss like a sixteen year old."
"Apology accepted." Killian snapped, his voice whip like and the sarcasm far harsher than he had intended. He clenched his fist and slumped against the trunk of the tree. He was honestly taken aback by how little she seemed to think of the kiss, how easily she brushed it off as nothing and, really, who knew he had enough heart left for her to break?
Suddenly, Emma gasped and Killian's head snapped upwards, following her stare to the edges of the horizon before letting out a low whistle of his own. Without realizing it they had climbed their way to the top and both he and Emma were silent in their appreciation of the view from it's peak; the way the stars wove a kind of dazzling magic, tiny pinpricks on the canvas sky that twinkled hypnotically. Killian had spent countless nights stargazing, both for pleasure and navigation, but the Neverland sky never failed to take his breath away.
"I never understood it before now, why it's called Neverland - why people never want to leave." Emma whispered spellbound, "God, it's like anything is possible."
She was right; Killian thought, in that minute, moment, second anything was possible. The deception of this land was the rush, the feeling of infinite possibilities, the potential that exploded like a volcano, ricocheting from the inside out and igniting the veins. He knew that indescribable sense of what if was what Emma was feeling and he didn't blame her, not when she was next to him, lips parted slightly and cheeks flushed. Perhaps, there would be a time, in a world defined by endless, starry skies and lost, kindred souls finding each other, where Emma could return his feelings.
It was that epiphany that prompted the following, "I heard what Baelfire said about fighting for you and you should know I'm not going to back down either. You're one of a kind Emma and there's nothing I love more than a gentleman's fight."
"Hook," She began warningly, her eyes glued to the sky.
He brushed the unsaid rejection off swiftly, "No, its fine, love. I've said everything that needs to be said so let's just enjoy the view before all hell breaks loose tomorrow."
Emma nodded and took a sip from his hip-flask before handing it back to him. It was poignant, he decided, as they passed the drink back and forth until it was empty. They'd see each other again; tomorrow, the next day and the day after that and so on. Yet, Killian thought, they'd never be as they were tonight, he and Emma at the height of Neverland, with the world lying before them and that great something they shared cradled just within his reach.
A/N: If you enjoyed, please leave a review and spread the Captain Swan love.