Hi everyone!
this new story is written at four hands, by montanarosalie, and myself, eaasybugboy or also known as Adriane, I hope you will enjoy this new fiction, taking place in a cursed Storybrooke, Montana writes Emma, when I will take care of our pirate, Killian deliciously Jones, we won't follow all the original story, but we hope you will enjoy it as much as we do!
Welcome Home
Emma leaves the house where her son is getting ready for bed and drives back into town, looking for a place to have a quiet drink. It becomes obvious rather quickly that her only choices are Granny's Diner and a seedy bar called The Jolly Roger; her childhood decides for her and she steps through the door boldly, half expecting to find Captain Hook behind the bar.
And he sort of is.
Well, not really. The guy behind the bar is strikingly attractive, dark-haired and blue-eyed, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans that hang just right on his hips, but none of that is what makes her think about Captain Hook; it's the fact that he's missing his left hand and not even trying to hide the scarred stump.
Emma realizes she's staring and quickly glances away, and she can feel his eyes follow her until she reaches the bar and sits on a stool; he pours her whiskey on the rocks before she can even open her mouth and order anything.
"Thank you", Emma says and looks up, her heart rate quickening when their gazes finally lock together; it feels like being struck by lightning. Or magic.
"No need to thank me, lass", he says and she's not even surprised that he's got an accent that sends shivers shooting down her spine; it only makes her sit up straighter and tell herself that she's here strictly for Henry.
"Lass? What century are you from?" Emma asks him and downs her drink in one go, tapping the glass on the bar until he pours her another round. Her eyes are drawn to the rings on his hand and she comes to the conclusion that the hand itself is really fine too.
"No need to be hostile", her bartender admonishes and she sips her second drink slower because since when is he hers?
"I'm sorry. This day has been pretty shitty", she says and looks up to find him studying her carefully.
Too carefully for comfort.
"You're worried about your lad? You should be", he says and Emma lifts her eyebrow at him because how the hell does he even know about Henry? "It's a small town."
"It's a small town? That's all you're going to say? I just met you and you already know more about my son than I do", Emma says and his expression darkens as if somebody had turned out the lights in his blue eyes.
"Forget about it", he says and disappears to the back room, leaving her sitting there all alone.
Emma finishes her drink wondering what just happened and drops a fiver on the bar before going back to her car, stopping only to check the name of the owner written below the bar's name.
"You're strange, Killian Jones", Emma says and starts the car, driving toward the town line and trying not to pay attention to his voice echoing in her head.
You're worried about your lad? You should be.
"And you should mind your own business", she mutters under her breath and glances at the speedometer to check that she's not going too fast; she looks up a second later and there's a wolf in the middle of the road.
Emma turns the wheel and crashes the car right into the Storybrooke sign, her head hitting the steering wheel, pain exploding in her forehead and darkness claiming her in a matter of seconds.
The last thing her mind shows her before she loses consciousness is Henry's earnest face.
"Bloody infuriating lass", Killian uttered, shaking his head in disbelief as he washed her glass. Leroy, a regular at the bar asked for a beer, effectively cutting his reverie short.
There was something thrilling about the little exchange he had had with that Swan girl; there was a fire burning in her eyes as she looked at him, not focusing for one second on the lack of his left hand. No, Swan had looked him right in the eyes and gave as good as she got, something not a lot of people were willing or able to do around him.
"Jones! I'm waiting for that beer!" Leroy groaned, tapping the counter.
"Calm down mate, it's coming."
Taking the bottle of beer from the fridge, Killian opened it with ease; he had learnt to work around his injury, hooking the beer in the crook of his left arm, and popping the cap with his right hand before he handed it to Leroy.
"You could always ask", the hairy man said with a grumpy tone, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip.
"You could always ask for it nicely", Killian shot back, going back to washing the glasses.
Emma was her name. The whole town was talking about her coming, the first visitor since what seemed forever, and if it pissed Madam Mayor, even better. And plus, Killian couldn't shake the feeling that something huge, something earth-shattering was happening right now, prompted by that bloody storm that had came into his bar and challenged him with her green eyes.
Emma Swan.
Things promised to be interesting.
Killian closed the bar after Leroy finished his tenth beer and helped him stand up dragging him by the arm; Leroy stumbled and almost fell.
"Come on mate, let's get you home."
"Hmm."
"Yeah right", Killian wrapped an arm around his shoulders, locking the door behind them before they stumbled to Killian's car; Leroy babbled incoherently and Killian just nodded along, perfectly aware that trying to argue with the short man was a lost cause.
Thankfully, Leroy didn't live far away from the bar; he had a little house he was loaning from Mr. Gold, much like everyone else in town did with their homes.
Reaching for Leroy's keys, Killian got him out of the car, opened the front door and walked them to his room, quickly making sure it was okay to leave him alone.
"This is the last time I take you home, Leroy, next time you're on your own."
"Yeah right, princess."
Chuckling and shaking his head, Killian turned on his heel and left.
On his way home, Killian drove without really thinking, rubbing his forehead and pinching his nose. Days and nights working at the bar had drained him; his back was killing him and since the beginning of the night, his stump hadn't stopped bothering him with a kind of ghostly pain that felt like his hand was still there.
It was a first; nothing like that had ever happened before, but he forced himself to keep the prosthetic on because he needed it to drive himself home.
Surprisingly, his drifting thoughts led him to the town line, and Killian slammed on the brakes violently when he noticed a yellow bug crashed against the "Welcome to Storybrooke" sign; leaving the car parked haphazardly on the side of the road, he opened the door and ran to check if the driver was okay.
Emma Swan.
"Bloody hell!"
He shook her shoulders gently, looking for blood, but her only injury seemed to be the laceration on her forehead where she had probably hit the steering wheel.
Killian had been in enough fights both at the bar and beyond to know that her wound wasn't that bad; she had just been knocked off by the shock of the accident.
"Come here, lass", Killian groaned, wrapping one arm around her and supporting her under the knees with the other; he got her out of the car carefully not to hit her head, and settling her more securely in his arms, Killian walked to his own car where he placed her in the backseat, brushing off soft strands of hair away from her face.
No doubts about it, Emma Swan was one gorgeous woman; Gods knew he had met his share of lasses in his life, but there was something in the line of her neck, or the way she frowned her brows together, or, even better, the way she snapped back at him when everyone just avoided him that made him smile.
Something about her was different.
After making sure she was comfortable, Killian reached for the blanket that had been in his car forever and put it over her before he closed the door, got behind the wheel again and started driving.
Where, he didn't really know, but for sure, he wasn't letting her out of his sight while she was in this state.
Emma opens her eyes and the ceiling above her head spins. She closes them again and groans, her hand lifting to check for blood, but warm fingers envelop hers and gently tug her hand back down.
"It would be best if you didn't touch", a male voice says and her muddled mind struggles to figure out what's happening.
"Killian", she says the first name that comes to her and opens one eye, wincing when pain pierces her forehead, finding her- the bartender looking at her with a serious expression.
"That's right, lass. Can you remember your name?" He asks her and Emma gives him a sideways look. "I'm just making sure that you don't have a concussion."
"Emma Swan", she says and he nods approvingly. "You could've taken me to the hospital if you were worried about the concussion."
He looks oddly conflicted, his brow furrowed as if he himself can't figure out why he didn't. Emma takes the opportunity to look around the room and lifts her eyebrows at him because there are flowers on the wallpaper and pictures of kittens hanging on every wall.
"I wasn't the one who decorated the place", he says defensively and Emma smirks, then winces again, and it's only when she reaches for her head again and he stops her that she realizes he'd been holding her hand the entire time.
She must be concussed if she had let him do that; she doesn't like people touching her, and she especially doesn't like when strangers do it.
"I cleaned you up and put a band-aid on your cut, so don't go poking at it", Killian tells her and releases her hand, and Emma finds herself listening to him.
"Thanks. How's my car?" She asks him and he gives her a wry smile when she sits up and sways a little, his hand landing on her shoulder to steady her.
"A bit banged up, but she's fine."
"Are we talking about me or the car?"
"It applies to both", he tells her and Emma smiles, then tells herself that she was never here to flirt.
"So I'm good to go?"
"You are, but I don't think you should", Killian says, and Emma stands up, shaking her head at him.
"I just came here to bring Henry back to his mother", she tells him and starts for the door, but somehow he gets there first.
"And that mother is making Henry deeply unhappy", Killian says and Emma is about to argue but he cuts her off before she gets a word in. "So unhappy that he ran off again and now half the town is looking for him."
"Henry is missing?" Emma exclaims, sidestepping him and opening the door.
He lays his hand on it above her head and slams it closed.
"Slow down, lass. He's okay, he's just not home", he tells her and Emma tilts her head to look up at him, acutely aware of how close they are even despite the worry for her son gnawing at her stomach.
"Where is he?"
"There's a wooden playground near the beach. Henry calls it his castle, and it's where he goes when he's upset", Killian says and Emma is stunned that he'd know that. "He's a bright lad, and for some reason he likes my company."
"Do you like his?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
Killian hesitates, his blue eyes assessing her for a moment before he finally answers her question.
"Because he's one of the few people in this town who don't treat me like I'm some kind of a freak."
"Why-", Emma starts to say, then remembers his missing hand. "People in small towns are pretty narrow-minded."
To her surprise, Killian smiles.
"What?"
"He gets it from you", he tells her, and Emma's heart expands in her chest at the thought that her son had gotten something good from her.
"So castle by the sea?"
"Just follow the main road and take the second turn on the left. You won't miss it."
"Thank you. For everything", she says and he waves if off, stepping back so she can open the door.
"Swan?"
She pauses and turns back to him and he tilts his head toward the bed.
"If you need a place to stay…"
"I'm just going to find Henry", she tells him and his knowing smile shifts something inside her, something that's been asleep for a very, very long time.
"And then you're going to stay to make sure he's okay", he says and Emma bites her lip and politely declines his offer.
She escapes before he reads her mind again and discovers how much she wants to stay, and how it's not just for Henry; before he sees how hard it already is for her to tell him no.
It was horribly cliché.
As if it were a movie scene, Killian stared at her walking to her car, the one he had managed to get back after making sure she was peacefully asleep. Not once she turned around to look up at him, just honking her horn once she sat behind the wheel and shooting him a watery smile before driving away.
What had he been thinking when he brought her back here? Having a tea party? Of course she would leave, he was a nobody to her, just a guy who had served her a drink and talked to her for a few minutes; yes he had saved her ass back there and took care of her, but he had probably crossed a line when he did it.
Rubbing his head, Killian stalked from the window and paced around in his apartment, trying to calm his racing thoughts; he had thought twice before taking her here, where not even Leroy had had the pleasure to enter. It wasn't something he was used to doing, because not many people were close enough to him to be called a friend; the old grumpy man was the only one fitting the description, Henry being a nice companion once in a while, when his mother wasn't spying on him and watching his every move.
However, the strange and fluttery feeling that he had felt last night hadn't gone anywhere, something new curling in his stomach as Killian had carried her to his bed; he couldn't let her sleep on the couch, could he? There was something about this woman, this infuriating lass that had challenged something within in, something he hadn't felt in a long time and hadn't thought he could ever feel again.
Emma Swan, her name was.
Maybe things would change now.
Emma parks her car next to the beach and looks out over the ocean, immediately noticing Henry in his imaginary castle; it's just a lonely playground, and he looks so miserable that she can barely stand it.
He reminds her of herself when she was his age.
She's about to close the car door when she notices his book on the passenger seat, so she takes it out and carries it to where he's sitting.
"Hey", she says and he looks up, his face lighting up instantly.
"You found me!" He exclaims and she sits down next to him, shrugging and handing him his book.
"Somebody told me where to look", Emma tells him and he frowns.
"Who?"
"Killian Jones", Emma answers and Henry grins, opening his book and turning the pages quickly.
"You mean, Captain Hook", he tells her and shows her a picture of a man that does look strikingly like Killian.
"Why did you run away again?" Emma changes the subject, feeling out of her depth with Henry's delusion that everybody in town is a fairytale character.
"Because she hates me", Henry says flatly, like it's the most logical thing in the world.
"Your mom doesn't hate you", Emma says, and it feels like a kick in her gut because that woman isn't Henry's mom. Not really.
"She hates everybody. When she found out that Killian and I were friends, she told him to stay away from me or else", Henry says softly, listlessly thumbing through his book.
"And did he listen to her?"
"Of course not", Henry beams, lowering his voice to a whisper when he goes on. "We always meet on the docks or here, so she doesn't know."
"Did your mother say why she doesn't want you to hang out with him? Did he get you into trouble or something?" Emma asks because even though she can read people pretty well and Killian didn't seem dangerous, it's still a little weird that he'd be hanging out with a little kid.
"I told you; she just hates everybody. Killian never did anything wrong but people always assume the worst because of his hand", Henry tells her and looks at her steadily, as if waiting to see if she's going to be one of the people.
"I think you should listen to your mother", she tells him gently, fighting the urge to brush away a lock of hair that's falling into his eyes.
"He's my only friend", Henry says softly, and Emma's stomach drops.
Giving Henry up for adoption was the hardest choice she'd ever made, but she did it to give him his best shot, and clearly Regina is not the kind of mother Emma had wished for him.
"And she's your mother", Emma tells him because he's not hers anymore, and no matter how much it hurts to see him like this, there's not much she can do about it.
"You're my mother", he says, looking at her like she's some kind of a superhero who can fix everything.
"Kid-"
"Please don't make me go back to her", he begs her, his big brown eyes breaking her heart; all she wants in that moment is to take him and run away with him, no matter the consequences.
"I'll talk to her, try to make her ease up on you a little", Emma says and Henry sighs heavily, closes his book and nods, but it's clear from the look on his face that he's not expecting her to succeed.
The urge to take him from Regina is rising and she knows it'll only get worse if she sticks around in this town, but as she leads the way to her car Henry slips his little hand in hers and she realizes it's already too late.
She's here to stay and make sure that her son is well taken care of.
His musings hadn't really stopped since Emma left him; she was messing with his thoughts as he served at the bar, Leroy mocking his dreaming mood, even Ruby noticing how he was lost in his thoughts when she dropped by, but Killian brushed it away quickly.
Glad to close to bar, Killian had decided to go for a walk, his legs taking him to the shore, the only place in this bloody town where he felt free of strings and obligations, the salty air feeling welcoming and familiar, calming down his too racing heart, helping him cool down; he got to the bench he always picked to sit on as he stared at the sea, and didn't fight the smile on his lips when he saw Emma Swan already sitting there.
"This is my spot, you know", he said when he reached her, hands in his pocket, his best devilish smile on.
Emma looked behind her, her eyes finding his before she gave him a bitchy smile.
"I don't see smartass written anywhere, though."
"For someone who got saved by this very charming gentleman after she got her pretty head bandaged up, you're not really grateful", Killian grinned and cocked his head to the side, his tongue pressed against his cheek.
"It wasn't that bad, you know; I would've been perfectly fine."
"It wasn't fine and you know it, lass."
"You're just stroking your own ego and expecting me to do it too", Emma arched a brow, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Sorry to disappoint you but I'm not doing it, pal."
"Ouch, you're a tough lass, aren't you?"
"You're a smartass", Emma shot back, rolling her eyes at him in a comical gesture that didn't fail to make him chuckle.
"At least it means you noticed the ass", Killian said and savored the way she sighed with exasperation. "And you, love, are stubborn."
"I'm just not falling for your act… Killian?" She faked uncertainty, giving him a big grin.
"A challenge, just how I love them", he simply answered, talking more to himself than to her, biting his bottom lip, enjoying this way too much. He sat down next to her but Emma shook her head, got up and started walking away.
"Hold on, Swan, nobody said I didn't want to share."
Turning around and cocking a brow at him, Emma put a hand on her hip.
"Maybe I just don't want to share your spot with you. Did that ever cross your mind?"
"It's not like I invited you to share my bed, lass; it's a bench, it's not even comfortable", Killian patted the worn wood. "Why are you here, though?" He asked with real concern. "And you're your information, I only proposed you to stay with me so you didn't have to sleep on this very bench, nothing more."
"Excuse me if I don't believe you, buddy; it's never that easy with a guy like you", her tone was sharp and there was more to it than a simple shot back ping pong game.
Standing up, Killian made a show of walking to her, tilting his head to meet her eyes.
"That I don't believe; you've never met a guy like me, lass, I'm your first Killian Jones and definitely the last one you will ever meet."
"You're not the first smartass I had met, Jones, and they are all the same", Emma shrugged and rolled her eyes once more before continuing. "Listen, I just wanted a moment to-"
"A moment to catch your breath and think", Killian ended for her, making her eyes go wide, clearly taking her by surprise. "I told you, Emma, don't let yourself be fooled by appearances; it won't lead you anywhere around here."
"What is that supposed to mean?" She clenched her jaw, taking a step forward.
God she was a real entertainment, that was for sure; not many people in this town were able to stand up against him and talk back, not when he had a missing hand and mostly didn't bother with a prosthesis to hide the remaining stump with.
"I don't know", he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek but not even making her shiver. "You will figure it out very soon, I guess."
"You always talk in riddles?" She ground out between her teeth, and he could almost feel her hands shaking from where he was standing; Killian had to bite his lips not to laugh because she was definitely something else.
"Are you always this stubborn?"
"I'm not the one answering my questions with another question", she said, her pink tongue teasing him as she lifted her chin up as shot him a dark glare, daring him to answer and only succeeding in making his grin get wider.
"You're the one avoiding them in the first place, love", Killian said before walking past her. "I'm leaving you my spot for tonight; consider yourself lucky, it's a sort of privilege, but don't think it's permanent."
"Is that supposed to be funny? I don't want your spot", Emma shouted, making him stop dead in his tracks.
"You're supposed to be grateful and say thank you, but I guess those words are a foreign concept to you. Anyway, you need time to think. Enjoy it, Swan, because you and I aren't done."
"Yeah right, buddy, tell yourself whatever you want, I am done with you. You take your spot and leave me alone", Emma stormed away, passing by him in a twirl of curls, and Killian didn't do anything to stop her, just admiring her from afar.
"That's what you think, Emma. But my offer still stands; if you need a place to crash-"
"I'm not sharing your bed", Emma cut him off. "And for information, I'm staying at the Inn. It's perfect over there."
"And for your information", he gave her a dramatic bow, almost succeeding in making her smile, "I'm a gentleman, and I would have taken the couch, but if you're staying at Granny's that's good too."
"Yeah right, whatever", she tossed back before walking away. "Goodnight, Jones."
"'Night, Swan."
"Definitely the promise of something interesting", Killian murmured to himself.
And somewhere in Storybrooke, the clock started working again, time running out.
Tick tock.
Please review!