(Here we basically have angst turned fluff, which seems even more fitting after Sunday's sad, terrible loss and also its amazing, heartwarming reunion, than it did when I started this weekend. There are a few tiny details in here that aren't quite canon anymore, but I don't want to change them, so as you read, maybe pretend it's before 5x21 aired. In this story's timeline, the funeral was Killian's, and his return was not right there at the cemetery. Also, I can't take total credit for this one, as I saw the prompt/idea on Tumblr a while back. There were a few people discussing, "what if Emma found this little black kitten with blue eyes like Killian's, and she and Henry took it in, and it helped her deal with the loss of her pirate?" I hope no one feels any disrespect that I had to try it as well. The idea just rooted into my imagination and wouldn't leave! I've seen at least one other story from this idea, but I think this one is unique in its own way, and I hope you'll enjoy! Please let me know what you think – I'd love to hear your thoughts!)
And of course, they aren't mine, I only own my ideas and the fluff I want to give Killian and Emma a break to enjoy! ;)
"Strays Find a Way Home"
By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on FFnet)
Coming home from the funeral of her True Love is the sort of crushing blow Emma Swan could never have imagined herself enduring. Not so very long ago, she was completely alone, encased in her armor, tough, self-sufficient, and – if not happy – at least settled with her lot in life. Bail bondsperson Emma in her tiny apartment in Boston couldn't have envisioned her son, her parents, friends, and then a stubborn, charming, sexy, devoted pirate, working their way over her walls and making themselves at home in her forcibly expanded heart, but by extension, she'd also thought she was shielded from this level of pain. Now, her heart, which – no matter how hard she tries – still feels, is cleaved in two as surely as it was in a prison infirmary nearly fourteen years ago as her newborn was carried away where she couldn't follow. She had vowed never again… Yet, piece by piece her loved ones dismantled her inner stronghold and made themselves at home with her until she'd had no choice but to relent and return their affection.
Killian had done so more than any of them. She'd wanted to run from him and the feelings rushing back after a decade of disuse from the very moment she saw him as the dust cleared in that destroyed haven of the Enchanted Forest. She couldn't deny how fast her heart had beat when he bandaged her hand with his scarf atop the beanstalk, how tremors had run through her body as his fingers brushed her palm when he returned the bean allowing them to follow Henry to Neverland, how feverishly her blood had burned when she'd grasped his lapels in her fists and hauled him toward her in the midst of that thick, muggy jungle for their first kiss, or how sickeningly her stomach churned when the Snow Queen's jagged spikes of ice nearly pierced him, almost taking her infuriating rogue away from her. It made her crazy to be so attached to him, and she'd fought admitting it for so long, until the day her tears finally broke free as she fully accepted the inevitable when he had told her she was his happy ending. Killian had actually, however improbably, made her believe in the fairy tale, all of it: who she was, her magic, her family and her home, and his own love and devotion.
Now he was gone.
The service had been brief, but heartfelt, and Emma knew instinctively that Killian would have been moved by how many of the townsfolk were in attendance to mourn his loss. However nothing would have touched him more than the young man he had treated as his own son, than Henry's, show of both grief and bravery. Manfully, her boy had stood at her side, shedding only a few silent tears, almost as tall as she was and doing his best to lend support as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Both he and David had said a few words in Killian's honor, which the other attendees seemed to appreciate, though she couldn't seem to focus on anyone specifically, staring blankly at his headstone instead. Then her son had stepped forward, setting a perfect sailor's knot – one of the first Killian had taught him – on top of the marker. It was then that she had given Regina a beseeching look as the memorial concluded, and his other mother had convinced Henry to come to Granny's for the impromptu wake of sorts with her, Robin, Roland, and their baby girl, giving Emma a moment alone.
Her mom and dad had hesitated, Charming looking torn about leaving his "mate" there in that dusky, cold cemetery rain, finally admitting that their mission had failed, and Snow looking desperately as though she wanted to hover, to placate, to offer hope where Emma knew there was none. But at the look they saw in her eyes, both had halted and then told her they would wait for her in the truck before heading away from the fresh plot.
Once she was by herself, Emma stepped forward, wiping the moisture of the soft rain and tears from her face, no longer sure which were which as they blended while she stood in the drizzle and laid her hand on the marbled stone polished smooth, wishing that he could feel her touch and that she could still draw from his constant warmth. Reaching into the pocket of her dark coat, she pulled out and almost reverently cradled a small flask filled with rum. It wasn't his. They hadn't found it on his body, realizing belatedly that he hadn't been seen to pull it out for a drink nearly as often in his last few months. She had bought this one specifically for her purpose today, to leave as a final offering here in his last resting place. She'd had it engraved simply "K.J." in delicate, swooping script.
She raised the flask toward his marker, murmuring "Here's to you, Killian" in a final toast. "You were right, you know, I couldn't handle it." She almost smiled, remembering the challenge, the teasing, the sparks at their beginning, and all that had followed, when he had been continually at her side, helping her meet each new undertaking, even when she didn't know how or thought she had no more to give. That done, she brought the flask to her lips and took a long sip, letting the liquor travel down her throat, warming and lingering on her tongue and in her chest. Then, swallowing firmly and nodding to herself, admitting that there was nothing more for her here, no way that lingering would bring her pirate back, she tipped the flask, pouring the rest of the amber liquid out over the freshly turned earth, then placed the small, silver container at the base of his stone.
Whispering huskily, Emma bowed her head, wishing so desperately once more that she were not speaking at his grave, "You changed me, Pirate… more than I would have thought possible. It hurts…" she had to pause, gulping air for a moment until she could continue, "but…I won't go back. I won't shut the rest of them out…I promised you…and I'll keep it."
Nothing else to do, she touched her fingers to her lips, then pressed that semblance of a kiss to the etched letters of his name in cold, wet granite and turned to slowly walk away.
~~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn't until she stepped out of the truck, unfolding her shaking legs to touch down weakly on her front walk, and turned back to promise her parents she would speak to them later, that Emma registered anything else clearly through the vague fog of grief she'd slipped into after leaving behind what remained of her True Love here in this realm. She waved gamely, heaving a sigh of relief when they pulled away from the curb. She knew they only wanted to help, but she could barely breathe and stay standing, she couldn't remain stoic in others' presence much longer. With tired head bent and shoulders slumped, she made her way up the front steps of the white two-story and let herself in. Standing in the entryway and looking around at the house she had hoped the two of them, with Henry, would fill together with laughter and hope for the future they had earned, she nearly crumpled to her knees, feeling sobs she'd kept down for the last two hours rising up to consume her.
Frantically Emma stalked through the kitchen, down the hall, and out onto the screened back porch looking out over Storybrooke's small harbor, needing to escape from the interior of this place she now feared would never truly be a home. Of course, as she stood feeling the chilled evening breeze on her flushed cheeks and blinking rapidly while she brought her breathing back under control, her eyes came to rest on the Jolly Roger docked proudly at the pier and a strangled cry tore from her throat. He was everywhere – inescapable – so much a part of her now, and yet not close enough for her to hold.
Clawing against the rising panic, sniffling and wiping away tears, she heard a small, plaintive cry that was not her own. Pausing, perking her ears up, and nearing the latched screen door to peer down the steps into the closest part of the backyard, Emma strained to catch the sound again. Sure enough, a pitiful little squeak, hovering barely audible over the sound of the wind and the rain falling on the roof, came to her ears once more. It cracked as though about to give out, while she strained to see anything in the gathering dusk. She held her breath, and the sound peeped up once more, seemingly almost underfoot, this time recognizable as the pleading, tiny "mew" of a lost cat.
For a brief moment, Emma caught the quick glimmer of an animal gaze near the bottom step, huddled in the barest shelter of the wooden stairs to the porch and a badly neglected rosebush. Quickly, she unlatched the door and descended the steps. Bending swiftly and hoping the thing wouldn't run, she reached out to scoop up a bedraggled, wet, and muddy bit of fur, so dirty it was impossible to tell its color, eyes matted so helplessly that it could barely open them enough to look up at her, though it tried, and nearly weightless in her gentle hold.
She spoke in a whisper, trying not startle it, and tucked the tiny kitten in her hands against the shelter of her chest, caring little for how dirty it was quickly turning her formal black attire; she would never be able to wear these things again anyway. "What are you doing out here all alone, little guy?" she asked, worried over how young and feeble it was.
Feeling a surge of protectiveness for someone worse off and needing comfort even more than she did, Emma was already back up the porch, latching the screen door, and through to the kitchen, on a mission now and glad for anything to divert her focus for at least a moment or two. "It's gonna be okay," she promised the slight, quivering bit of skin and bones she held. "We'll get you all fixed up."
Henry would be back after supper, and if nothing else, this little visitor would make him smile. She couldn't very well let the poor thing suffer out in the rain, and it was clearly starving. She could figure out what to do with it long term tomorrow…
Half an hour later, the kitten was washed and rinsed thoroughly in her kitchen sink full of warm, sudsy water, and Emma was drying him with an old hand towel until he gradually came to resemble the soft, fluffy, black ball of cuddly fur he was meant to be. Turning her attention to his eyes next, Emma found that where they had been firmly almost sealed closed before, that had softened now. Brushing gently, hoping the poor critter wouldn't panic and scratch her to bits, Emma used the corner of the towel to wipe the last of the matted gunk away and coax the kitten's eyes open.
A small, soft whine issued from its mouth in protest at her ministrations, but first one and then the other eye blinked open to peek out at her. Her heart ground to a halt as they did, her chest clenching painfully. Those eyes were startlingly blue – a clear, sparkling shade that she had thought she would never see again. With the inky black fur and those curious, knowing blue eyes studying her, Emma's mind flashed to Killian so viscerally it nearly sent her to her knees.
Gripping the edge of the countertop to steady herself, she forced several deep breaths, drawing air in and out of her tightened lungs. The kitten tilted its head, studying her with an oddly puzzled expression, and then ventured from the mound of terrycloth he had been swathed in by her drying efforts. Picking his way over to her on soft, silent feet, he looked up at Emma hopefully before dipping his head to rub against the back of her hand, letting out another tiny chirrup of sound.
It might well have been her own floundering emotions, but Emma sensed almost human concern in the creature's gaze, and she scratched behind its ear affectionately, managing a watery smile. She moved to find something the hungry cat could eat, already finding herself way too attached, and she couldn't help asking the quiet around them, as if somehow her lost Love would hear. "Killian, did you send him to me?"
~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Henry returned three hours later, the kitten had eaten some bread soaked in milk, nearly stealing each piece she had torn off the loaf from her fingers with his paws before she could get them into the bowl, Emma had forced herself to swallow down some soup, she had made an entire list of things to purchase for her small new charge at the store, and she and the new arrival were curled up on the couch watching Dark Angel on Netflix. The kitten had settled himself up high on her chest, his head tucked warmly under her chin as she stroked his downy fur, a steady, low purr emanating from his tiny body, vibrating against her skin.
Honestly, she had been so relieved the little guy was with her in her loneliness all evening, his little body warm against hers where she had felt there would only be emptiness from now on – Killian's comforting heat whenever he'd held her close now lost forever. Emma was certain that Henry would love their family's tiny new addition, but she knew already that this little guy was as much hers as Henry's.
Her son entered the living room quietly, clearly subdued in his own right as well as unsure of how he would find his mom. But as he came around the couch to sit with her, his eyes found the new arrival and his face lit up. A watery chuckle and a shake of the head accompanied his question of "Who's this?" as he reached out to stroke the soft, black fur.
"Henry," Emma grinned proudly, even if her eyes were still red from tears and the smile was fleeting, "meet Pirate."
~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~~
To Henry's credit, he doesn't question the name, and by the following morning, the initial prompting of it at least becomes obvious when the kitten sitting beside him on the kitchen counter flicks out a paw and swats his spoon away just as the teen reached for it to eat his cereal. "Hey!" Henry exclaims, catching the kitten before it can get far while trying to pull the shiny metal object nearly as big as he is along behind. Henry picks Pirate up, scratching him under the chin for a second before plunking the kitten down in front of its own breakfast and retrieving the pilfered utensil.
When he moves into the living room where his aboveground version of the storybook sits open to a blank page, and he begins attempting to record Captain Hook's last brave adventure while Killian Jones, the man behind the moniker - the man he had begun looking to as a father figure - is still at the forefront of his mind, before the details begin to fade with time and healing, he finds that his chosen pen is not where he left it. Curled up on the seat across from him – seemingly dozing – Pirate cracks one eye open warily, and Henry realizes the little thief has curled up on top of the pen, as though hoarding anything with shiny tips or pieces away for himself. The way that the small cat peers back at him in challenge arrests Henry right in the motion of picking him up and closes his throat thickly. If the kitten possessed a human face, Henry could clearly imagine one eyebrow being raised in an expression that asks, "And just what do you plan to do about it, Lad?" More than the animal purloining things, Henry suddenly sees exactly why his mom named their cat as she did, and what he is doing here when she had never mentioned wanting a pet before. "I'll get another pen," Henry croaks hoarsely to the empty room, patting Pirate on the head as he stands.
~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~~
Emma had been afraid to even enter the bedroom that first night. She had spent so long as the Dark One just waiting, hoping for the time that she could sleep again, when she could truly rest safely in her own home. Now all that was ruined, her hope of finally curling up in his arms shattered forever, and she dreaded her first night here.
However, as one, then two, then three days dawn, and she manages a restless hour or two here and there, Emma finds her heart full of gratitude and affection for the errant fluff ball who found his way to she and Henry's doorstep. That first night, with rain pattering down on the roof and the vision of Killian's grave still haunting her mind, Emma had made a little bed of blankets and an old sweater for Pirate at the foot of the living room couch, and then snorted a laugh and let it go when Henry had turned his pleading gaze on her and carted makeshift bed, cat, and all to his room. She had been certain not a wink of sleep was coming to her anyway, and so she might as well allow her son all the comfort he could get.
Sure enough, the hours of the night crept by in the dark and yet her eyes remained open, trying to bring the beloved features that should be there resting on the pillow beside her up before her dry, sleepless eyes. She rolled over, staring at the ceiling dimly lit by the moon's glow, trying not to let tears start flowing again. All the times she had ached to get home at last and sleep for weeks, and now she still cannot experience the healing comfort of rest.
At that moment, when despair had begun to creep back in more insidiously than ever, she felt the impact of something landing on the bed near her feet. Surprised, Emma rose on her elbows to peer down, glimpsing the waving tip of a furry tail as Pirate disappeared under the blankets; she could see the bump in the covers moving and felt the brush of his fur against her leg as he moved further up the bed. When the little face popped out at the top again with a soft "mew" of greeting, batting at her chin and then bumping her nose with his affectionately, those unnaturally blue eyes blinking knowingly at her, her heart couldn't really ache much more than it already did, and so the resemblance seemed almost reassuring.
"What's the matter, Kitty? Is sleepy Henry boring you?" she'd asked playfully, wiggling a finger before him to bat at. "Poor Pirate."
Meowing again as if to agree with her, her kitten lay down on her chest, gazing back at her sweetly and Emma gratefully felt a small smile that slip over her lips.
When she woke the next morning curled on her side, the sun streaming in the window, she hadn't been surprised at all to find Pirate nestled on the pillow near her head. He might not have been the pirate she'd hoped to have with her in the morning light, but just as her captain would have, he had stayed by her side.
~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~
A week after Pirate came to them, Emma is sitting on the back steps, watching as her father and Henry return to their swordplay lessons in the shade of the large oak tree about hallway down the yard. Their words of challenge, encouragement and advice flow to her ears on the light breeze mingled with their laughter and the cracks of the wooden practice swords making contact. Emma smiles fondly – if a bit bittersweetly – glad to see her dad and her son genuinely happy, even if Killian would have loved, and deserved, to be there too, would have treasured adding to the lesson and being part of the familial bonding. She clutches the rin still on a chain around her neck, missing him sharply again, though he is never far from her mind.
Pirate, who has been playing happily at her feet, suddenly pulls up short, standing stock still for a moment, then darts off like a shot. Emma turns, meaning to follow him, and already opening her mouth to call his name, then is frozen in shock –
Standing at the corner of the house, looking winded, exhausted, and a bit worse for wear, but pleased and disbelieving, and with love in his eyes, stands Killian Jones, seeming solid and alive. For a moment, Emma cannot process this miracle, cannot take in what is right before her. She blinks, shakes her head to clear it, expecting him to fade away and disappear, as he has when she's dreamed of his return so many times before.
Then his mouth opens and he speaks hoarsely, a crackling tone of uncertainty in the single word, "S-Swan?" He is still real and there in front of her as she stands, tears streaming down her face. Behind her she hears the sounds of swordplay breaking off and exclamations of surprise ringing out as David and Henry catch sight of him too. That all fades vaguely into the background though as she murmurs, "Killian," shakily and runs into his arms.
She crashes into him with the force of waves smashing against rocky shores in a storm, and they are both trembling so hard with emotion and relief that the impact send them toppling to the grassy lawn together in a heap.
"Emma…my love," he says, awed, just before their lips meet and then he is laughing, she is laughing, both shedding tears even as they do and placing quick, roving kisses all over each other's faces, hands tracing over shoulders, arms, and necks.
Then Henry has flings himself to the ground with them, wrapping Killian in an exuberant, tight embrace as well, laughing and crying right along with them.
David is only a few steps behind his grandson, and just barely manages to hold back from falling into the pile of arms and legs locked in giddy embrace. The Prince finds that tears are welling in his own eyes as well at the sight of his daughter's hard won love and happy ending returned to her from beyond the grave. Eventually, Emma and Henry both ease off of Killian enough that David can offer his hand to help pull his friend back to his feet, and once Killian stands facing him, David's arm clasp quickly turns into a fierce "man hug" that Killian Jones doesn't hesitate even a second at returning.
Apparently this is the moment that their small new member of the family decides to reappear and make sure no one is ignoring him. Darting back out of the rosebushes, Pirate streaks over to them, and before anyone has seen him strike, latches his claws into Killian's leg, just below where the leather pants stop and he can strike the man's ankles.
"Oi! What the devil?!" Killian exclaims, jerking in startled pain and kicking his leg out to dislodge whatever assails him. Looking down, they all see Pirate sail over the grass a couple of feet and, after shaking his head briefly to regather his bearings, begin stalking back toward them.
"Oh no you don't!" Henry stoops to scoop the kitten up and hold him to his chest as he shows Killian his furry attacker face to face. "Killian, this is Pirate. He must have gotten jealous at being left out."
"Pirate, eh?" Killian asks, arching a brow sidelong at Emma. Gamely, he reaches out to brush a gentle finger over the kitten's forehead, and just like that the little thing stares up at him, charmed as everyone else by the man before him. Looking at Emma once more, while still lightly stroking the kitten's fur, his voice goes softer, aching, though he tries to make the words lighthearted. "Missed me that much did you, Lass?"
Emma has to swallow hard around the lump in her throat even to rasp out her answer, "You know that I did." She is hovering at his elbow, clearly not wanting to let him even an inch out of her reach, and Killian gravitates like a magnet to her in return, always leaning toward her.
David remembers his own and Snow's early days together, when one thing after another seemed constantly determined to separate them, and he understands all too well. It isn't long before he is promising to see his mate again soon, giving his daughter a kiss on the forehead and making himself scarce so that this little fledgling family can re-acclimate itself and he can go home to tell Snow the good news. Emma is chuckling despite watery eyes, her arm threaded through Killian's and her head leaning on his shoulder as Henry urges him inside, anxious to show the man how he had written his quest with Arthur in the Underworld, and to show Killian what he had done with his new room.
Looking back over his shoulder once more just before he turns the corner of the house, David smiles in contentment at the scene the three of them make climbing the back steps together, nothing else mattering in this world but their reunion. It's all he ever wanted for them.
~~~~~~~~~~CS~~~~~~~~~
That night as Emma gets ready for bed she can't remember when she's ever felt so free, so light, so unaccountably happy that it almost scares her. She's afraid of when it may all be taken from her again. She steps back into the master bedroom from her attached bath, one of Killian's formerly retired black pirate shirts skimming her mid-thigh as she gathers her hair into a ponytail and smirks at the sight that greets her.
Killian sits on the bed, looking adorably comfy and yet somehow still unfairly sexy in grey sweatpants and a plain, white t-shirt. What fully completes the picture is that Pirate sits purring happily on his lap, rubbing his head against her love's fingers, eyes closed in bliss as Killian scratches behind his ears. The kitten's tail switches back and forth playfully, lapping up her man's attention, and Killian is grinning down at the cat indulgently. When he glances up again to catch her eyes, his are twinkling and his grin is wide and bright, making her heart flutter.
Padding barefoot across the carpet to stand before him, Emma delves her hands into his thick dark hair, brushing her thumbs over his temples. Killian tilts his head back to gaze up at her adoringly, devastating smile on his face gleaming with mischief and love, hand and hook trailing over the back of her knees as she comes to a stop before him. His mouth falls open, simply relishing her touch and this moment here with each other again. Then a grin lifts one corner of his mouth, he licks his lips salaciously and asks, "See something you like, Swan?"
Her breath hitches, her hand on his chest pushing him to recline slightly and following him with her own body. Pirate is unseated and spits unhappily, hopping off the bed and flattening his ears back in irritation, glowering at them from the floor in affront, as if they have insulted him personally and Emma has just stolen his new favorite human. His blue eyes narrow as he studies them both, and it's suddenly all Emma can do not to burst out laughing at how much the kitten's expression resembles Killian's offense when someone calls the Jolly Roger a mere 'boat'.
Trailing her finger through the enticing dark hair peeking from the vee'd neck of his shirt, she leans in to trace along Killian's cheek with her nose, biting her lower lip lightly in anticipation. Nodding as she stares into his eyes deeply and replies. "Oh, I see something I like, alright."
"Well, then, Love, what do you plan to do about it?" he banters back.
"Plenty," she assures, snapping her fingers to douse the lights. However, she then curls into him, arms wrapping around him tightly, her body language practically begging him to do the same. "For the rest of our lives," she adds emphatically, "but for tonight. Will you just hold me?.. Please?"
Killian swallows hard at her words, hearing the devastation she's been living with in her voice and knowing its echo from how he had felt below, thinking she was gone from him and that he'd had no hope of ever reaching her again. "Aye, Emma, I can do that."
His eyes have adjusted just enough that after she sighs in relief, and they lie together for several quiet moments, legs entangled, her head on his chest, his fingers running through her hair, he can see her wink before she steals the last word. "By the way, you get to tell Pirate he can't have your pillow anymore."