A/N: A oneshot that I was inspired to make this morning, hope you enjoy!
The frost settled on the edges of the Jolly Roger, forming shimmering patterns on the chipped wood. The ship was aphotic, save for the glimmers of moonlight that gave the vessel a luminescent tinge. Killian watched the snow fall, the icy cold breath of winter his only companion as he sat on the gunwale of the Jolly Roger, allowing himself a rare moment to just sit and reflect.
Killian Jones rarely felt sorry for himself. He was a man of action, not contemplation, a man who buried all emotion that may hinder him in his vendetta, leaving behind only revenge and hatred and letting them rule him, often with so much vigor that sometimes even he forgot there was more to him.
He took on a new alias, Captain Hook, and swore to never love again, because love led to loss and he couldn't afford anymore loss. But sometimes being Captain Hook wasn't enough to shutout the feelings of despair and melancholy that so often haunt him.
Since Neverland, Killian has been feeling like a dwindling fire, the anger and resentment of the past burning out, leaving nothing behind to mask the parts of him that ache, exposing a broken soul, marked by the tell-tale scars left by loss, abandonment and heartbreak. He feels like cinder, burnt out and useless, the repugnant waste of something that once glowed so bright with the fire of promise and potential.
Truthfully this isn't the first time he's felt this way. Ever since his father first abandoned him as a child these emotions have been growing in the deepest, darkest pits of him, growing blacker and more intense with each impediment that hits him. Each obstacle scars him even more, making it harder to bounce back each time.
His father's rejection started the cataclysm of Killian's character, the pain from Liam's death coupled with the heartbreak after Milah's death made him forget himself for 300 years and broke something inside of him, something he let the darkness inside of him sew it up every time.
In the past when moments like this hit, all it took was a good swig of rum (or perhaps the whole bottle) to make him feel like whole and merry again. What he would do for a barrel of rum right now, a barrel so big he could swim in it and drown the demons threatening to consume him. He yearns for the burn of alcohol in his throat right now, the buzz and pleasurable intoxication that comes from downing a bottle of rum, but most importantly the ability to temporally forget.
He begun to make an effort to get his flask out before remembering he had thrown out all alcoholic beverages because it was 'bad form'. He scowls to himself, hating himself for his lack of foresight, among other things.
So deep is he in his momentous labyrinth of self-pity that he doesn't hear the soft pattering of footprints and the presence of another soul until she's right next to him. He moves his gaze upwards, into the deep green orbs belonging to Emma Swan. He smiles halfheartedly, gesturing to the empty space beside him. Taking her place beside him she frowns, after a pause, glancing over at him. "Wait, I come to your ship late at night and you don't even have a snarky innuendo? Are you feeling alright Captain Hook?" she teases.
It's genuine concern masked by humour and Killian acknowledges this. He cracks a smile, keeping his eyes fixated on the falling snow, trepidation keeping him silent.
"Killian..."Her voice knocks him out of his thoughts and the sound of his name on her lips revives him. He hadn't heard his name spoken with such tenderness in over 300 years and it encourages him to break the floodgates that so carefully guard his thoughts.
Voice thick with emotion he articulates the feelings churning up inside of him, of Liam and Milah, of his fears that he is becoming a monster and that Killian Jones is just a memory that can't be salvaged from the ruins he has become. He's speaking in a rhapsodic cadence and Emma sits there, listening until he's raw and she's the one holding him up, keeping him strong. His breath heaves as he sinks his head into Emma's shoulder, finally taking a moment to let all his guards down, Emma murmurs reassurance into his ears until she senses that comfort from another human is the best gift she can give him at this moment and lowers her head until it is resting on his head, silently giving him strength. In the morning the feeling of hopelessness and self-hate will pass and they won't speak of this moment of vulnerability, but for now the two broken souls sit in tranquility, watching the snow fall.
Not my best work I'll admit, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head and I had to do something with it.
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