Spoilers ahead if you're not caught up with the show!
Prompts and reviews are always welcomed and encouraged! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Once Upon a Time (except my obsession)!
At first when Gold had shown her the grainy video, Emma had brushed it off. The manipulative bastard would say anything to try and worm himself out of his magical prison deep beneath the library. True, that made it no less horrible, like the attack on the fairies, but really, it had been Gold who had killed those people. Henry's grandfather or not, he was a monster who prayed on the vulnerabilities of others and used them to his own end. What Hook had done was horrible, but out of his control. And more importantly, was behind them. Killian's heart was safely back in his chest. The Snow Queen, Rumplestilskin, they were all defeated, their plans foiled. Once again, the heroes had defeated the villains. Good triumphed over evil. Everything was okay. Then why didn't she feel like anything was alright? And that it might never be alright again.
The wind brushed her hair along her face and she tucked the errant strands behind her ears. The noise of the raucous gathering at Granny's drifted out onto the patio. Another curse broken, another party. This one was especially rowdy, perhaps since they were celebrating the defeat of two villains instead of one. He sat across from her, his confession, freely given, confirming the Dark Old had been telling the truth, was fresh on his lips. His jaw tightly clenched as he awaited her response. He had promised never to lie to her, Emma thought. She took a swig from the glass in front of her, the alcohol burning her throat. She knew she would never be able to drink rum again without thinking of him.
"Swan," Killian said. His chiselled features illuminated by the hanging lights. "Please love, say something. Anything."
Emma took a shaky breath. She'd almost lost him today. Gold had held Killian's heart in his hand, but it had felt like he had hers. She remembered every ounce of hurt, every gasping breath Killian had taken. She couldn't remember the last time she was so scared. But he was fine, better than fine. He was whole. Wasn't this the part in the story where they had sweaty I thought I lost you sex? Instead he'd dropped this bomb on her. She stared at him, her thoughts a jumble. God, she probably was going to have to arrest him.
Emma closed her eyes and fought the urge to run. Just to get up and walk away from him, from magic, from everything. Against her will, her thoughts drifted back to the last time she'd sat on this patio with Killian. How they'd shared that kiss that had started, really started, everything between them. How starkly his admission he'd given then contrasted with his now. That he'd killed a man simply because Gold told him to, his heart still his own.
"I'm not sure what to say," Emma said, avoiding his gaze. She was afraid if she looked at him, if saw the pain in his eyes that she heard in his voice, she would break. "Except, I, I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you needed to change anything," She glanced quickly at his hook. "That you felt like you had to go to him."
"Gods, Swan," He reached across the table and captured her hand in his. He expected her pull away, but when she didn't he felt a tiny spark of hope. This wouldn't break them. "You never did anything, I just," He closed his eyes, his inability to find words an unfamiliar affliction. "I just wanted to be enough for you. I wanted to be the man you saw I could be."
"You were always enough, Killian," Emma said, tears brimming behind her eyes.
Killian felt his heart plummet in his chest. Were always enough. Past tense. The earlier spark of hope wavered slightly. He moistened his lips and pulled his chair closer to hers. The metal of the chair scraping along the patio. "Emma, please," He whispered, his voice dripping with desperation. "Tell me what to do, tell me how to fix this. I'll do anything, love."
"There nothing, you can't just," She swallowed thickly and finally met his eyes. His chest tightened as he saw the hurt in her eyes. That he had put there. "I'm not sure I can get past this," Emma said quietly, worrying her lip between her teeth. Hook's face fell. He felt like all the air had been knocked out of him. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. He started to speak, to plead with her, but she covered his mouth with her fingers, silencing him. "But I want to Killian. I just, I just need some time, to process this."
He nodded and squeezed her hand gently before she pulled it back to her lap. She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting back a shiver. She wasn't sure if it was from the the chill in the air or the familiar feeling of loss building in her stomach. She knew that there was nothing left to say, they'd each said their piece, but she was still unwilling to leave. So they sat together, enveloped in a comfortable silence for what felt like hours. Finally, she shook to head to clear it. She needed some time to think. Alone. She rose from the table slowly, her back stiff from the cold. She tried to shoot him a reassuring smile but felt it falter and not quite reach her eyes.
"Emma, I'll be anything you want me to be," Killian said suddenly, his admission surprising them both. He rose to his feet beside her. His eyes searched hers desperately. "I just can't lose you." A lone tear slid down Emma's cheek. Killian reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. His hand lingered against her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch and rested her hand over his. He slowly caressed her face, his palm warm against her wind nipped cheek. She pulled his hand to her lips and gently kissed his palm. She smiled, more sincerely, as she released his hand and it dropped back to his side.
"We'll talk soon okay," She said, her voice wavering as she fought to maintain control.
"Then why do I bloody feel like this is the last time I'll see you?" When she didn't answer, he pulled her into his arms roughly. Emma buried her head in the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, so uniquely him. She slid her hands under his coat and felt his toned back beneath his shirt. Choking back a sob, pulled herself closer to him. For a moment, she wished that he never told her the truth. That she could blame Gold instead of him. He held her more tightly, as if he could read her thoughts. He kissed the top of her head softly.
"We'll figure it out Swan," He said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Stop it Hook," Emma spat, pushing against his chest, her hurt quickly morphing into anger. She felt him stiffen with her use of his monicker. He tightened his arms around her and refused to let her slip out of his grasp.
"Emma," He murmured against her skin. "Please, don't push me away-"
"Are you kidding me?" She asked incredulously. She roughly twisted away from him, steam coming out of her ears. Sensing her mood, Killian stopped fighting her and let her pull away. "Do you understand the position I am in? The position you put me in? I vouched for you. Told everyone you've changed and now you killed someone, an old, defenceless man, Hook."
"I know, Swan," Killian said quietly. He looked completely wrecked, his face twisted in pain. She knew her words had hurt him. Unable to maintain her composure, hot tears fell freely from her eyes. He reached for her and gently trailed his thumb over the pulse point at her wrist. "If you'll let me I'll spend everyday of the rest of my worthless life making it up to you-"
"God, stop. Just stop," She sobbed. He ignored her and moved to pull her back into his arms, but she pushed against his chest roughly and he staggered back a step. "The worst part about all of this is that I love you," She sobbed.
"Emma," He said, taken aback, a smile forming on his lips before he could stop it. Gods, did she just say she loved him? He felt his chest swell with warmth at the mere thought. He cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her face to meet his gaze. "That's bloody brilliant-"
"No, it's not," She said meeting his eyes fiercely. "Because once again, I've proven that I'm toxic. That-"
The door to Granny's opened and drunken party goers stumbled onto the street, interrupting her. Emma pulled away from Killian suddenly and wiped her tears on the sleeve of her jacket. "I gotta go," She said, sniffling, over her shoulder. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, and she didn't want to have to explain anything to anyone, especially her parents, until she did. Emma cast her eyes on the ground and walked away from him, her boots crunching against the snow. She'd expected Killian to chase after her, like her always did. She felt fresh tears pooling as he let her walk away, a dull numbness settling over her bones.
Killian sat on his bed at Granny's, his empty flask at his feet, an almost empty bottle of rum in his hand. The room was dark, sounds of a few, particularly dedicated celebrators drifted under his door. He took a long swig directly from the bottle as the room swam before him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. He hadn't felt the need to drink more than a glass or two since, since the year he'd spent in the Enchanted Forrest, without her. The thought did nothing to comfort him. He choked down another gulp of rum, sighing as the bottle ran empty. He dropped it onto the ground and heard it roll along the floor.
He flopped onto the bed, still fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling. He'd been nothing but anger and vengeance before he'd met her. She'd reminded him of the man he used to be, the honourable man he was capable of being. With her, he felt like he had finally come alive. She was his light after centuries of darkness. He scrunched his eyes closed tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure he could survive losing her. The villain in him, perhaps. But the man he'd become? He doubted it. Cursing himself for the thousandth time since he'd walked into the Crocodile's shop, he reached for his flask in the dark. Finding it empty, he swore loudly and hurled it against the wall.
"Bugger off," He slurred without opening his eyes as someone loudly banged on his door. "Or I'll bloody give you something to complain about." The nose stopped, thankfully. Why his neighbours cared about his banging when the partygoers at Granny's were still carrying on was beyond him. The room swayed around him and he sighed, the motion reminding him of his days on the Jolly. He prayed sleep would claim him, soon, so he could stop thinking about her. That he could have a break from dwelling on the guilt that he'd ruined them with his thoughtless actions.
His mind more than a little fuzzy from the rum, he drifted off to sleep. Minutes or hours later, he couldn't be sure, he groaned as he heard something straightening up his room, empty bottles banging together. That blasted Granny couldn't give him twenty minutes of solitude. Gritting his teeth, he sat up, his curses lost on his lips as the room spun wildly around him. He blinked repeatedly, thinking he had to be hallucinating as he saw not Granny, but Emma. She stood like a vision before him. The sun poured in through the window, dancing across her features.
"I need to talk to you," Emma said, from the foot of his bed. She rested her hand against her hip and rolled her eyes as he remained speechless, his eyes boring into her. "You're still drunk," She said, more of a statement than a question.
"Swan," He said as he pulled his hand through his hair, trying to tame his dishevelled appearance. "I'm not drunk," He said, wincing. "A little worse for wear this morning, but sober love." He felt like he'd eaten a pound of sand and his tongue felt too large for his mouth. She soundlessly handed him a glass of water and he smiled at her gratefully. Their fingers brushed as he took the glass. He eyed Emma closely, wondering if she felt the same jolt of energy that he did from their touch. He drained the glass quickly.
"I came by last night, but you weren't in any shape to entertain," She said simply. He winced again as the previous evening came rushing back to him. He set the now empty glass down on the night table, never taking his eyes off of her. With a sigh, Emma flopped onto the bed beside him and ran her hands through her hair, impossibly tangled from the wind and a restless night. Her coat and boots were near the door. Her clothes were rumpled and looked slept in. How long had she been here? Had she forgiven him? Did she still love him? Had she ever?
"How did you get in?" Killian asked, groaning inwardly. Out of every question he had, he cared about that answer the least. Although he supposed it was a safe question.
"It's all about the tumblers," Emma murmured with a smirk as she played with a loose thread on the blanket.
"I've always said you'd make a bloody brilliant pirate, Swan," He said with a genuine smile. Holding his breath, he reached towards her and stilled her hand with his own. His heart skipped a beat, when she smiled back and laced her fingers with his. Even their hands fit together so well, like two broken pieces of a whole coming together.
"I'm sorry Killian," Emma said, her eyes searching his face. "For everything last night. I, I was hurt and angry and I'm sorry."
"Gods, Emma," He said, trailing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Not as sorry as I, for everything, I assure you."
"I know," She said, still smiling.
They sat quietly for a moment, carefully taking the other in. Killian wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. Just as he moved to wrap his arms around her, his stomach pitched, last night's rum suddenly not sitting well.
"I very much want to continue this conversation, love," He said with as much swagger as he could muster. "Just give me a moment to make myself more presentable?" He asked motioning to the bathroom door.
"Sure," Emma said with a small chuckle. She gave his hand a soft squeeze. "Just hurry back, okay."
"Aye, love," He said already moving to the bathroom. "I'd be a fool to keep you waiting."
He shut the washroom door and turned on the tap. There were some strange things about this world of Emma's, but running water was absolutely marvellous. He splashed cold water on his face, trying in vain to chase his hangover away. Shutting it off, he eyed himself in the mirror and scowled, barely recognizing his reflection. He looked as he felt. Terrible. His head throbbed with a wicked hangover. Why had he drank so much? Because he'd never expected her to come, he thought.
He pulled his rumpled waistcoat and shirt off, hanging them behind the door. He brushed his teeth and drank some more water. He realized with a groan, that all his clean shirts were in the other room. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize either walking shirtless to find clothes or to force himself back into yesterday's shirt. His eyes shot open at the quiet knock at the bathroom door. He'd kept her waiting.
"Sorry, love," He said leaning heavily against the vanity. He smirked when he saw her poke her head into the small room. "Now, Swan, if you wanted to see me shirtless, you only had to ask love." She gave him no response, except for a small eye roll. She pushed into the room, clearly not bothered with his state of undress.
"Can't handle your rum?" Emma said, gently rubbing his back. Her fingertips trailing lightly over his old scars. "Some pirate." Her other hand rested on his bicep, squeezing lightly. He covered her hand with his and smiled at her in the mirror.
"Yeah," He said with a cocky grin and much more confidence than he felt. "Well, this old pirate is all yours love." He swallowed thickly. "If you'll still have me that is." There was a pregnant pause between them and as the silence stretched, Hook worried that he'd pushed her too fast.
"I did mean what I said last night," Emma said finally, meeting his eye in the mirror. Her own eyes overflowing with emotion. Killian felt his heart sink like a stone. So that's why she'd come. She came here to end it. Gods he needed more rum.
"Swan-"
"I love you Killian Jones. I love you so much, it scares me," She said as she kissed his shoulder, her lips lingering.
"Gods, Emma," He said, turning to face her, his hand tilting her chin up to met his eyes. His blue eyes overflowing with passion.
"I thought I lost you," She interrupted, trailing her fingers though his chest hair, her eyes brimming with tears. She rested her palm over his heart and seemed to draw strength from the steady beat beneath her hand. "If I lost you, I, I don't know what I would do," She blinked away her tears and looked at him fiercely. "And if you weren't so infuriating, I could have told you all this last night, instead of sitting in that chair watching you sleep off a bottle of rum."
"Emma, love," He started, but she covered his lips with her hand.
"Let me finish," She said, her speech clearly practiced as she watched him sleep. He smiled against her fingers at the thought. "I'm still not sure what is going to happen, with the hat, but we'll deal with it, and everything else, together, okay? God Killian, I love you."
"I love you too, Emma. So bloody much," He said without hesitation, a weight lifted off his chest as he said the words he'd thought for so long. He pulled her close to him, his arm tightly around her waist and they kissed desperately, all their pent up lust, desire and love fuelling their heated kiss. Their hands everywhere, as close as they were, it wasn't enough.
"I apologize Swan," He said, pulling away reluctantly. He gave her a small grimace as he motioned to the cramped bathroom. "I always imagined a more grand moment to first express my love for you."
"Killian," Emma laughed, a real laugh. She rested her forehead against his chest and he smiled against her hair. Gods, he loved to hear her laugh. She propped her chin on his chest and looked him square in the eye. "You've expressed your love for me, every moment we've been together since we first met." He cocked his brow at her questioningly and Emma smiled. "With your smile," She gently placed a soft kiss over his heart. "And your glances," She kissed his collar. "And your touch," She said gently nipping his pulse. "And your actions," She trailing her lips over his jaw. "And in every kiss," She said with a smile as she finally brought her lips back to his. Emma's hands raked through his hair, pulling lightly. They kissed languidly, his arms tight around her, until they were both breathless. Gods, he loved her. Emma finally pulled away, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.
"Now come on pirate," She whispered against his lips. She slowly raked her nails down his back, eliciting a low groan from him. "Let me introduce you to my sure fire hangover cure."
"And what's that Swan?" He asked curiously.
"Hot, sweaty sex," She said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She reached down and gently stroked his length from overtop his pants, causing his breath to hitch. "Unless, you don't think you can handle it?"
Without hesitation, he slung her over his shoulder, her surprised cries and giggles bringing a wide smile to his face. Emma Swan giggled, who knew? Killian lightly nipped at a patch of bare skin between her pants and her shirt before he dropped her onto the bed. He covered her body with his, trailing soft kisses over every inch of skin.
"I love you so much, Emma," He said again, so relieved he could tell her how he truly felt after all this time.
"Oh my god, Killian," Emma said as she pulled him into a bruising kiss. "I love you too." She reached for the laces of his pants and deftly wrapped her fingers around him, stroking lightly. "Let me show you how much," She said breathily.
Gods, this woman would be the death of him.