A/N: So.. Started watching Once Upon A Time again (after stopping at the end of Season 2 because of other shows), and I've absolutely fallen in love with Killian, and -to a slightly lesser extent -the Captain Swan pairing. Something I noticed though, was that a vast majority of the Captain Swan stories involve a tragically broken Emma learning to get over her walls, and fears, etc., but very few of them deal with Killian's past. Abandoned by his father, raised in -essentially- slavery from a young child to an adult, losing his brother, his first love, and his hand... He wouldn't be the most mentally stable or trusting person either. Hence... this fic.
These are short drabble pieces, that I'll update as I finish. If you have any thoughts, or particular scenes you would like to see me add to, let me know. Again, I've only seen the latest seasons once, and while I'm trying to rewatch them again, there's probably stuff I've missed that would be great in here. So feel free to let me know if you have anything you'd like me to add. There's no real length limit... some will be longer, some shorter, as the scene calls for. Also, there will be no set time to these -they'll span pre-seasons, to post-seasons, and everything in between. I post them as I wrote them.
There had been bumps on the road; God knows, there had been some bumps.
The Pirate and the Savior both had their fair share of scars. Their fair share of walls in place to protect the tattered remains of their hearts. But perhaps what made them work so well was the walls; was the scars.
They knew each other in a way few others would ever understand. They understood the pain of abandonment, the pain of loss, and the callouses built over to a once-soft, and carefree heart. They knew what it was to be so desperate to protect themselves, knowing that one more betrayal, one more loss, would be what it would finally take to shatter the remnants of their patchwork souls. They were, in an odd way, kindred spirits. Birds of a feather, and all that. Two lost souls echoing out across the barren landscape of their hardened, battle-scarred souls, desperate for someone, but afraid to trust.
Emma was staring off into the darkened jungle, chewing her bottom lip, when the sound of a branch cracking behind her startled her enough to pull her from the log she'd been sitting on.
"S'alright, luv; only me," Hook said quietly, leaning against a tree. "Didn't mean to startle you."
"You didn't," She said quickly, feeling her cheeks redden at the obvious lie. "Couldn't sleep?"
He gave her a sad smile as he pulled his flask from his jacket. "Not with that noise," He said, taking a long pull from the flask. "Bloody awful, it is."
Emma breathed a sigh of relief. "You can hear it too?" At his small nod, she gratefully accepted his proffered flask. "I thought I was going insane."
Hook chuckled softly. "You're not going mad, luv. I'm not surprised the others can't hear it. The Pied Piper's tune can only be heard by those who feel unloved, and abandoned. And the cries of the Lost Boys can only be heard by those who were lost once themselves."
Emma paused, flask half lowered, trying to keep the glare from her eyes. "I'm not lost," She bit out, tossing the flask back to him.
He gave her that wry grin as he easily caught it, taking another long swallow before speaking. "You know, I'm half-tempted to say, maybe you aren't lost now… But that'd be a lie too, wouldn't it, Swan?"
"Oh really? And just what would you know about it?" She demanded bitterly.
The smile never left his face as he started walking back towards the camp, but his words stayed with her for the remainder of her lonely vigil.
"Because I can hear them too, luv."