I've decided to post the CSSS gift today because I'm leaving town tomorrow and I didn't know if I would have time to do it properly, so here it is. Merry Christmas to everyone!
This is unbeta'd so apologize in advance for all the mistakes.
When Killian sees her for the first time, he thinks she's just a tourist, strolling the streets of Storybrooke camera in hand. There's something different about her, though, an enigmatic halo perhaps. However, he has no time to observe her carefully since she disappears into the crowd in the blink of an eye.
As he immerses himself in his daily routine, he doesn't think about her again in the next few days, the moment too short for his brain to hold it back.
Three days later he sees her again. His first impression is discarded when he allows himself to observe her more closely. He is an observer, after all. And a story creator. Although he no longer has anyone to tell his tales. Not anymore.
No, she definitely is not a tourist. He can assure it now, after finding her three days in a row.
She follows a kind of pattern. First, she wanders through the streets, merged with the crowd. It's strange that no one notices a person who takes pictures in the middle of the street. But sometimes people are too busy or too submerged in their own concerns that they hardly notice what they have in front of them. That happens even in small towns such as in Storybrooke where the pace of life is much quieter than in a big city. Or perhaps she is a kind of ghost or spirit and he alone has received the strange privilege of contemplating her.
She then heads to the docks, her camera pointing towards the ocean, he supposes taking some photos. Finally, she stays for a few minutes facing the horizon.
Three days of observation allow him to begin to create several stories, to imagine what lies behind that enigmatic woman. He is used to it, old habits die hard. She could be a reporter for a travel magazine, or a rookie spy who has not yet learned to camouflage herself. Or a millionaire bored of her tedious life who entertains herself immortalizing the lives of other people. For some reason, though, none of these stories seems to fit her.
On the fourth day, he does not see her through the streets of the town. He is busier that day, so he must put aside his observer work at least for a while. With the sunset, he walks back to his ship —to his house— when a vision leaves him paralyzed. She, the mysterious woman, is there, on the dock, her camera directed towards his own ship. Killian remains frozen a few feet away, doubting whether to approach or continue his observation without interrupting her. In the end, his curiosity is more powerful.
He walks a few steps towards her. When he is close enough, he rests his arms on the railing and directs his gaze toward his ship. For some reason, he is nervous, his heart beats faster, the desire to scratch behind his ear almost so hard that he finds it difficult to suppress it. After a quiet sigh, he speaks.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
The only hint that she has heard him is a slight tremor in the hand holding the camera, her shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly.
There is no other reaction on her part for the next few seconds. He begins to doubt even if she is aware of his presence. After what seems an eternity, she turns to him. And that's when his heart stops working. Her eyes, of an intense green color, searching his gaze with a certain hint of curiosity. There is something else there, but he can't discern it since his eyes drift to her lips, which have begun to move.
"So is that a she?" She tilts her head a little, waiting for his answer.
"Aye, The Jolly Roger." He affirms suppressing a chuckle, a hint of pride slips in his words. She is his house, after all.
"Yeah, I can see the name." She points to the hull where the name appears in black.
She doesn't ask him if he owns the boat and he doesn't question what she does there. She does not look upset, but her gaze now turns to the horizon, as if she were lost in thought. After a few seconds, she gives him a half smile and walks away. No more words between them.
Killian doesn't see her for the next two days. He begins to fear that somehow he scared the enigmatic woman when he caught her watching his ship. On the third day, however, she appears again at the docks. She is looking at the sea leaning on the railing, her blond mane and her red leather jacket are unmistakable. He regroups again the courage to approach her.
The look she gives him this time is far from resembling the first one. Where once there was an intense green with sparks of vitality now there are red-rimmed eyes, a dull look. He also detects that she does not carry her camera.
"Where's your camera?" The words come out of his mouth before he can do anything to stop them. It's not the smartest question he can ask, he thinks as he checks her reaction, her features drawing a gesture of sadness.
She studies him for a moment, perhaps deciding whether to trust him or not. Finally, she mutters as she turns her gaze back to the horizon. "I was so stupid to leave the camera on one of the tables of that diner. I needed to go to the toilet. When I returned, the camera was gone." Her words come in a whisper so subtle that he almost confuses them with the murmur of the sea breeze.
"That device is important to you, isn't it?" It's a rhetorical question, he is aware. By all answer, she lets out a snort — that sounds more like a muffled sob— and starts to walk away.
"Wait!" He is reluctant to let her go. Not yet. "Can I ask you something?"
She turns and stares at him for a few seconds. Her gaze is still sad, but he would swear he has detected a spark of vivacity again. "You can, but you may or may not receive an answer."
"Fair enough." He pauses for a moment, sensing that there will be a point of no return from this instant. "I wonder... what you're looking for through the lens of your camera."
She doesn't respond at first and his heart falls to his stomach when he thinks he has missed his chance to approach her. But suddenly the corners of her lips rise subtly. "Smiles... I'm looking for smiles. And the horizon." Without further ado, she walks away, leaving him with even more questions, but also with a purpose, to find the thief. He knows whom to address. He's an observer after all.
He only needs a couple of days to find him. It's not a difficult task in a town as small as Storybrooke. Will, that's the name of the town thief. He doesn't steal out of necessity or greed. He does it simply because he can. He finds him in an alley, a camera in one hand and a phone near his ear in the other. Killian doesn't wait for the call to end. It's better to catch him off guard. So without more, he spits, "can I see the photos that the device contains inside?" He points at the camera with his right hand, while his gaze stays fixed on the thief.
Will's reaction is immediate, he runs off as he drops the camera on his escape. The device falls on a trash bag, avoiding the impact against the ground. In this simple way, Killian recovers the camera. It's not his most skillful performance, but the goal is fulfilled. He doesn't expect her to think of him as a white knight who has come to her rescue. But the camera and its contents seem important to her. So he does what he should do.
Two days later, he finds her in the same place, this time sitting on a bench in the pier. He approaches and offers her the camera. Her reaction takes his breath away for a few seconds. Her face lights up in such a way and her eyes shine with such intensity that he is unable to look away. He shouldn't be proud, his only merit has been knowing where to look. But he cannot prevent a wave of pride washes over him. His action, however minimal, has caused a positive effect on her.
She does not ask how he got it, simply thanks him and gives him a warm smile, clearly indicating that his presence there is welcome, so he accepts her silent invitation and sits by her side.
"Can I ask you something?" Killian repeats the same question of two days ago. It seems like that's their only way to communicate for the moment, so he accepts it.
"You can, but you may or may not receive an answer." She obviously responds in the same way. He didn't expect anything else, but her smile lingers on her lips, so that encourages him to continue.
"What's your name?"
"Is that your question?" She raises one of her eyebrows teasing him.
"Well, if we exchange our names we will never be strangers anymore."
"Maybe it's the best, keeping us as strangers."
He nods but doesn't give up, his curiosity is too strong. He has an ace up his sleeve, something he doesn't feel particularly proud of, but he uses it nonetheless. "Perhaps gratitude is in order now."
She lets out a snort as she rolls her eyes. "So you want my name as a gratitude for returning my camera."
Although her words do not come in the form of a question but confirmation, he nods with a shrug. "It's fair enough, isn't it?"
She then gets up and starts walking. He holds his breath, thinking he may have pushed her too hard. A few seconds later she turns, the sea breeze playing with her curls, so she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's Emma, Emma Swan."
The way her name slides between her lips, like a melody, and the light of the sunset giving her silhouette an ethereal halo makes him wonder if he really is not contemplating a gosht, or a vision. He blinks a couple times, and she's still there, her lips flatten out in an attempt of a smile. She is waiting, he finally realizes. She's waiting for his name.
"Swan, it suits you. Killian Jones is my name."
"See you around, Jones." Before turning and walking away, she smiles at him again. She, Emma, doesn't look back.
The next day they meet again on the same bench. Although he has gotten her name, Emma Swan is still a mystery to him, so he intends to know her a little more. His ability to create stories doesn't work with her. Or maybe, he doesn't want to create a fictional story with a happy ending for her. Maybe it's time to know a real tale. He begins the conversation in the same way as in previous days.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You can, but you may or may not receive an answer."
"You said the other day that you were looking for smiles. Why?"
Her face keeps a thoughtful expression for a few seconds. Then she tilts her head, her eyes searching for his, a spark of defiance in her gaze. "I've noticed that you observe people. Why?"
And there it is, a proof that she had also noticed him. Killian cannot suppress his lips forming a grin. He does not mind answering, not really. In fact, this can be a kind of catharsis. It's been a long time since he's expressed these thoughts out loud, so he takes a few seconds to respond.
"Well, the answer could be quite long."
She shrugs. "I don't mind, it's not like I have anything better to do." She leans back against the back of the bench, resting her head against her palm, her gaze directed at him, a sign that she is ready to listen.
"Okay, I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours later."
"Deal."
He can't do other than trust her to fulfill her part of the bargain. After clearing his throat, he turns his gaze to the horizon, his mind, though, travels several years ago.
"It's just a habit. I learned it from my brother Liam." He pauses for a second, the mention of his brother always has the effect of drying his throat and moisten his eyes in the form of contained tears. "For a while, it was just him and me, no one else to take care of us. He began to develop an idea for the purpose of distracting his little brother in the endless summer afternoons. He asked me to choose a random person from among the many who passed down the street. Then, he used that person as the main character and created a story just for me. He invented a life for that person that started from the moment I chose it. It was a story with a happy ending, of course. That was their purpose, after all, to ensure that, for a moment, our lives were not so miserable, to get us to experience full happiness, even through other people's"
"And you have taken that habit back then? Do you observe and create stories?" She gives him an understanding look.
There is much more in his story, but a sudden melancholy seizes him, preventing him to continue. Maybe some other day he'll tell her the next chapter, though. Meanwhile, he just nods. "Aye. I like to think that some of those created stories do come true. Maybe the chosen person dies the next minute hit by a bus. But there are many other possibilities. To think that my story might be one of those possibilities is enough for me."
After his confession, a quiet silence reigns over them. He thinks that Emma is not going to fulfill her part of the deal, but after letting out a sigh, she speaks.
"I... I like to capture the moment, to immortalize that instant when a genuine smile appears, a proof that, whatever happens before or after, that person was happy for a moment."
There is much more than that. He can say it when a cloud of sadness crosses her gaze. He does not push her, though. "And what about the horizon?"
"I like the sea. It has a calming effect on me." She simply responds.
"We make quite the team, Swan."
"We do?"
"Of course love." He replies in an exaggerated tone, as if the answer were obvious. "I offer a chance to happiness through these stories and you immortalize that happiness, capturing the moment and making it eternal. I tell you, Swan, quite the team."
They continue with that routine over the next few days. Now, when they see each other in the distance, he observing and she taking photos, both wave or share glances and smiles of complicity. They even meet by chance in places like Granny's. On these occasions, they sit in the same booth. And they talk about everything and nothing, their respective coffees abandoned and cold on the table.
One day the pattern changes and it's Emma who asks first. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can, but you may or may not receive an answer." He emulates her previous answer because how not? Although he will answer any questions she asks. Killian earns a laugh on her part. He then realizes that he needs to hear that sound more often.
"When you first saw me, did you think of any story for me?"
"Aye, too many stories, indeed. But for some reason, none of them seemed to fit with you."
"Would you tell me any of them?" The way she addresses him, with a mixture of curiosity and hope and a special glow in her eyes makes it impossible for him to reject her request.
So he tells her not one but all the stories he created based on her. Her reactions vary from almost laughing to widening her eyes with surprise or shaking her head in disagreement, but without losing her smile. I would never do that, Jones. He cannot deny it, he likes the effect his stories cause in her. He could spend hours inventing stories just to keep that smile on her lips.
After a few seconds of silence, broken only by the sound of the sea and the echo of her previous laughter in his ears, Killian asks. "Do I appear in some of your photos?" There is a deeper meaning in that question and he is not sure he wants to know the answer but he asks nevertheless.
Her gaze is full of understanding when she responds. "Yeah, in several, mostly on your boat, other times while talking to the librarian or when you come across that couple, the short-haired woman and the blond-haired man."
"The Nolan." He offers.
Emma nods. "They look pretty nice."
Yes, they're nice, like Belle, the librarian. He is surprised by the answer, though. Not because he thinks he doesn't smile, but because he would never have considered them as genuine smiles of happiness. He didn't come to this town in search of happiness, in fact, he thought he would never get it again, his heart broken and his soul empty. But maybe his feelings are starting to change.
"See that man, the one with a red hat? Tell me his story, Killian." She asks him one day, after having had an intense conversation in which both have shared memories of their past, not the most painful parts, he suspects. Not on his part, at least. Sometimes it's better if the old demons stay buried.
He looks in the direction Emma is pointing at and finds a man leaning on the railing, looking out to the sea. He narrows his eyes and studies his posture and his expression intently. Little by little, a story begins to form in his head.
"This man is a sailor, a seaman, and he has spent most of his life on the high seas. It seems, though, that bad luck hangs over him and he hasn't been able to get on board for a while. He looks at the horizon, remembering the countless adventures he has experienced in the ocean and dreaming that someday, he will be able to sail again. Two days later, his bad luck is over. A sailboat arrives at the port, at his command, an adventurer captain with a lot of free time and too much money. He is looking for a small crew to accompany him on his next adventure, a trip around the world sailing on his ship. And that's how our man with the red hat gets back to his beloved sea."
"Whoa, you have quite the story there. I like it, it suits him." At that moment, Emma raises her camera and points directly at the man. "Got it."
It seems to be a day of confessions because, after a brief silence, Emma begins to speak. "I... I was looking for a particular smile. When I came here I was just looking for someone." Killian senses a slight shake in her voice, but she continues, a nostalgic expression on her face and a gleam of sadness in her gaze. "As I told you before, I grew up in the system... I... got pregnant very young, while I was in prison for a crime I hadn't committed... I couldn't keep that baby. I had no future to offer him so I gave him up for a closed adoption trying to give him his best chance."
He knows that the story is not over, so he simply nods and silently encourages her to continue.
"It was easy for a while. After leaving prison, my main concern was to find a way of life that would allow me to move on. The first few years I managed to bury my regret with work, but as time passed, every time I saw a child on the street, the memory of my son came to torment me. I began to feel guilty and I kept asking myself if I really had done the right thing, if I really had given my son his best chance. So, after a few investigations, I got something, just a name, Storybrooke. That's how I got here."
She is looking for her son. More specifically, she is looking for the genuine smile of her son, to make sure that she made the right decision. It's a bittersweet story, he thinks uneasily. But there is something that doesn't fit into all this. Killian is aware that Emma takes pictures not only of children but of other people. Before he can express his doubt out loud, she continues.
"I don't even know what I was looking for in the beginning. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, I don't even know what my son looks like. Maybe that's why, while trying to locate him among the crowd, I began to observe people and I was surprised by the reasons why some people smiled, so I started looking for smiles. Since I didn't find my son's at least I could immortalize the happiness of other people."
Killian's heart tightens after hearing her story, while a wave of affection washes over him. She is waiting for his reaction, if her hesitant gaze is an indicative. Little by little, a goal begins to draw in his mind, he's going to help her find her son.
"You can still find him, you know. It looks like a small town, but there are several children around your child's age." He trusts that the smile he offers her will be reassuring enough. "I offer my observation skills to help you in your purpose. I'm going to help you find your boy, love."
Her lips draw a tentative smile as a pleading shadow crosses her gaze. "Would you do it?" When he nods firmly, her shoulders fall slightly, as if discharging part of the burden she had been carrying. That encourages him in a certain way, maybe if he also talks about his past he may feel lighter.
So on this day of confessions, he also shares his. The words escape from his lips in a fluid way, demonstrating how easy it's to talk to Emma. They have known each other for barely a month, but there's a connection between them that makes it possible for him to feel closer to her than he has been with any other person in a long time.
Killian tells her that his brother died when he was still too young, leaving him alone in the world, with no one else to tell him stories. It was then that he began to acquire that practice of observing people and building their happy endings. He also tells her how he met his first love, and a future full of promises opened before them. That future did not last long, though. A car accident took his love and his left hand. And again, he was left alone in the world, heartbroken and with no one to share his stories with.
"We make quite the team." She repeats the same words that he used a few weeks before, getting his lips to lift slightly despite the pain of bringing his old demons to the surface. To his relief, her soft voice and warm smile have not a shred of pity, only understanding.
After their confessions, they continue with their routine, but little by little, something is changing between them. He feels more and more close to her, his heart beats faster every time he sees her, while his stomach flutters violently. She seems to feel the same effect, always looking for his gaze, always looking for a casual contact from their hands. He does not want to give a name to this feeling that is still blooming, but it's getting harder to be separated from her, if only for a few hours.
A week later, they are sitting on the bench they have already made theirs, looking at the horizon. There are no words shared among them, sometimes all they need is to feel the presence of the other at their side as a perpetual support.
Suddenly, he feels Emma's hand squeezing his leg slightly. Confused, he looks for her eyes, but she is no longer looking at the horizon but at something different. He follows the direction of her gaze and meets two people, a boy, and a woman. They're having an ice cream while walking by the docks. The realization of what they are contemplating washes over him. He doesn't need confirmation to know that Emma has finally found her son.
"Tell me his story, Killian." She pleads in a strangled whisper, without looking away from her son, while holding her camera ready to capture that unique moment. That bittersweet instant.
He closes his eyes for a moment and lets his mind wander for a few seconds, while a story begins to form. He knows the woman, after more than four months in Storybrooke it would be impossible not to know who is the mayor of the town. But she is a reserved and a bit haughty person, reluctant to share her life, so he hardly knows anything about her. Maybe it's better that way because he can offer a genuine story to Emma.
"She is the mayor of the town." It's the only thing he can affirm with certainty. "She... she decided to adopt for the wrong reasons. It was a selfish act with the aim of filling her wounded heart, to find someone who loved her without reservation. In spite of this, at the moment in which the little boy came into her life, she started to change. Where there was darkness before, now there is light. Her son has become the center of her life."
Although Emma doesn't look away from her son, he knows that she is listening to him, or at least that is what he senses while seeing a silent tear running down her cheek. Suddenly, he feels how she stiffens and raises her camera, ready to capture the moment she has been waiting for so long. And there it is, that smile. He doesn't need Emma's skills to be certain that the smile that appears on the child's lips is a genuine one. And it's addressed to his adoptive mother.
He feels the need to do something for Emma, to brush away her tears, to hold her in his arms... Instead, he offers her something she can cling to, hope. That is his function, after all, to generate a ray of hope through his stories, creating a happy ending within the infinite world of possibilities. Maybe it will come true, maybe not. But his instinct is strong and silently shouts that this time his story and reality will run parallel paths until they converge on a point. He just hopes that he can witness it.
"He's a happy lad, he has everything he could wish for. He also knows his history and his origins. For that reason, some days, he looks out the window and observes the town with longing. He likes to think that maybe, somewhere in the world, there's someone who also looks with yearning towards the streets full of people. That maybe there's a person who is looking for him. He is a patient boy and is confident that, when the right time comes, that person, his biological mother, will find him."
Silence falls over them while he holds his breath, waiting for her reaction. "Thank you." She mumbles while wiping away her tears. The moment has passed, the boy and his mother are no longer in sight and it seems that this is the moment for Emma to leave as well. "I have to go." She whispers, as she gets up and walks away without looking back.
He doesn't try to stop her. But he begins to feel an uneasiness that tightens his heart while a terrible thought takes hold of him. He feels helpless but cannot do anything but wait the next day and trust that, even though she has already fulfilled her mission of capturing the genuine smile she was looking for, there is something else that makes her stay.
When Killian approaches their bench the next day, there is someone else there. Emma. She is still there. He represses the impulse to jump for joy and instead approaches with slow steps. The moment he arrives at her side, Emma looks up, the corners of her lips rising slightly. She carries a folder in her hands. He pulls his lips into a soft smile as accepts the folder she hands him while sitting next to her.
"I've thought to bring this to you as gratitude for your story from yesterday." He opens the folder and is surprised to see its contents. There're photos where he himself appears, and most importantly, he is smiling. Killian seems happy while talking to Belle, the librarian, or the Nolan. He also sports a placid smile as he contemplates the sea in another of the photos. He swallows the growing knot in his dry throat, as emotion seizes him.
"I wanted to show you that you are not alone anymore. I think you have already found your place in this town." Emma is smiling, a soft smile that goes straight to his heart. His gaze then drifts to her lips, wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss her. There is an almost irrepressible impulse that begins to take hold of him. Instead, he decides a path perhaps more subtle.
"Can I ask you something?"
Emma is grinning now, instantly recognizing their little game. She doesn't disappoint, of course, responding as expected. "You can, but you may or may not receive an answer."
"I've been thinking. Since your mission to find a genuine smile has been successfully solved, you could start a new mission. What do you think about looking for kisses that mean something?"
Her eyes widen in surprise, but, fortunately, she seems to have caught the hint. Her gaze also goes to his lips getting his heart to race with anticipation. "Uhm, it's not a bad idea. Maybe you can help me with the first attempt." Emma suggests with a tone of voice that would make it impossible to reject it.
She doesn't wait for an answer though. Instead, she approaches until she is within inches of him. And before he is aware of it, her lips are on his causing an electric shock to travel throughout his whole body. He's lost in the softness of her lips, in her sweet taste, in the number of sensations that the kiss brings with it, sensations that he already thought forgotten but that now return making him want much more. The kiss ends too soon, though.
"I forgot something." Emma's voice caresses his lips, while their foreheads remain in contact. "I'm afraid we're going to have to repeat since I forgot to take the picture."
He happily obliges, of course. And while their lips come into contact again as Emma raises her hand holding the phone and pointing towards them, he sets a new goal, to get a genuine smile from Emma every day and to make their kisses, because he is sure that from now on there will be lots of them, always mean something.
Thanks for reading :)