A/N: Let's just suppose that the circumstances of the curse changed, and this is a COMPLETE AU. Another ficlet for the CS Saturday prompt, which was Pirate!Emma this week! I had a lot of fun writing this one. Perhaaaaaps an update in the far future? We shall see ;) While I'm here, I'm going to plug Fortune Favours the Brave and let you know that you can look forward to the next chapter on Monday! :)
The night was stormy and cold when she walked into One Eyed Jack's, her hair tousled beneath the brim of her hat; her boots clicked loudly across the floor as she strode in, her head raised high like she owned the place.
Killian Jones sat himself near the door with a few of his crewmates, swirling a cup of rum in his hand. He watched her – the way her hips moved when she walked was hypnotizing – as the woman made her way to the bar alone.
She wore a white blouse underneath a deep crimson silk corset; there were scarves tied around her waist – red and white in colour – and a pair of black leather pants with matching lace-up boots. A pistol holster was belted snugly to her thigh. A large black hat complimented with an even larger feather completed the ensemble. Her golden curls fell over her shoulders, and she brushed them away as she careened over the counter, catching the bartender's attention immediately.
"I'll have the usual, Jim," she smiled, tapping her knuckles against the wooden countertop.
A regular – how did Killian never cross her path?
When the man slid the cup to her, she thanked him merrily and took a table only a few away from Killian's. His crewmates stopped their bantering and chatter to see what he focused so intently on – they understood at once.
"Do you know her captain?" one of them asked, following Killian's gaze. They all paused to look at her while she brought the mug up to her red lips, sipping quietly.
Killian shook his head. "Mm, no. Wish I did." He felt a tightening in his lower stomach when she pulled her pistol from its holster – she began taking it apart, wiping down the pieces several times with a handkerchief. Her fingers worked at it delicately, twisting it apart and laying them across the table. Oh gods.
There was not a single shake of hesitation. Killian got to his feet and navigated the chairs to her, and he pulled one up to take a seat. He felt slighted when she didn't glance up at him, all of her attention directed at her gun.
"Beautiful piece," he rang out. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.
"Thanks," the pirate said flatly, still brushing. The only source of light in the tavern came from small lanterns on each of the tables, and it illuminated her face – Killian could see he creases in her brow grow darker and deeper, a frown widening across her face.
He drummed his fingers on the table as words caught on his tongue. "Don't reckon it's a tad cold out for a drink?" What kind of a bloody question is that?
At this, she raised her gaze. She had striking green-blue eyes, and when they met Killian's, for a fleeting moment, he was sailing again over the deep blue waters. "Is that not the point of coming to a place like this?" She sounded bored with him. "To warm up after a cold day at sea?"
"Touché," Killian breathed. A challenging one, she is. Killian Jones always loved a challenge.
She paused the scrubbing and carefully placed the piece down in front of her before crossing her arms, propping herself on her elbows. "Who are you and what do you want?"
Killian waggled a teasing finger at her. "To the point – I like women like you." He leaned over until he was several inches from her unflinching face, and he lowered his voice to an almost-whisper, as if it was some kind of secret. "Killian Jones," he told her with a smile. "Though, most have come to calling me by my more colourful moniker…" Killian showed her the metal attachment – his hook – shimmering in the dim yellow light. "Hook."
A snort escaped her and there was a failed attempt at stifling a smirk. "Cute." She lifted her hat from her face, revealing the undeniable beauty that Killian sought. "I don't suppose you're going to ask for my name?"
"Well, that is certainly customary, love," he jeered.
"Why would I tell you, even if you did ask?"
Killian inhaled a deep sigh and rummaged through his pockets. Out of them, he pulled several gold coins and whistled to the bartender. "Oi, Jim!" he called out, turning several heads. "The next drink for this lass is on me!" He mirrored Jim's nod and turned back to her, pleased. "We're going to be here a while, and I told you mine."
She bit on her lower lip and removed the hat from her head, revealing the rest of her face and hair in the warm light. Killian admired her, his eyes scanning every bit of her face – her eyes like the ocean, the way her hair fell on the sides of her face, her lips a deep red – he could see something else there, something familiar. The side of her mouth twitched into a smile as she reached for her cup and sipped from it, her stare locked on his own.
"Swan," she said finally, whirling the drink in her hand. "Emma Swan."
"Lovely name." Killian motioned to her hat perched upon her knee. "You captain a ship?" Only captains had hats such as those. Killian was never fond of them.
Swan shrugged and gulped down the remainder of her drink. "Of sorts," she responded mysteriously. Her speech was low and soft. "I'll have that drink now."
It was brought over to her quickly – straight whiskey – and Killian tossed the bartender his payment. He watched her savour the burn down her throat over the rim of his own cup. She was different, this one. There was something about her that pulled Killian in and held him there. This Swan felt dangerous, but a little adventure never hurt. "What brings you to this port of harbor, love?" he asked, curiosity brimming in his voice. This part of the realm had few pirates, small docks – seemed strange that there would be many other regulars here. He certainly had his reasons, but Killian was quite positive that hers were not in any way similar.
Swan's eyes narrowed. Her fingers were working the pistol again, twisting it back together. "I'm searching for something," she began. "I need to find a way to another realm – another land." Was this a call for assistance? Suddenly, he wrinkles from her frown surfaced again, and she looked sad – sorrowful. "I need to find someone."
It was Killian's turn to study her warily. His ship was a marvel, aye, but she was also enchanted – could travel through realms granted the proper opportunity presented itself; that opportunity was on his ship. Though, Killian was also searching for someone in another realm, and after being left behind, he was in no more a forgiving mood. Her name left a sour taste at the back of his tongue and he glowered. "I'm searching for another realm as well." The words slipped from his grasp like liquid, and he felt the pit of his stomach drop. He saw her look at him through hopeful eyes, and he shifted in his seat. Bloody hell, Killian.
"Do you know how to travel between worlds?" Swan asked. She transferred her weight onto her elbows again and angled in. "I've been to this land and that but I've found no means to get myself elsewhere – a land without magic."
Killian's chest fluttered. "What is this world you seek so desperately, my dear?" He sipped his rum in an endeavor to hide his knowing simper. She wanted all the help she could get – Killian could tell.
She didn't waver. "Storybrooke." The name rang beautifully in Killian's head, and his grin broadened, to which she pricked an eyebrow up at him in surprise. "You know this place?"
Perhaps another on his side wasn't such a bad idea; they both had similar end goals, and he could use more hands on his deck. "Would that I did, love…" Still, Killian had to be careful. "Why should I help you?"
He could see the fire in her eyes flickering lustrously in the dreariness of the tavern. "I don't know what you want in Storybrooke, but at the end of the day…" Swan was inching closer now. "You and I both want the same thing."
Killian could smell her whiskey-stained breath and it burned hot against his lips. He inhaled sharply and brought his apprehension up to meet hers again. "Well, that's an offer I simply cannot refuse, lass," he uttered. "Shall we take this somewhere more…" He paused, and treasured the smirk that crept up Swan's face. "Private?"
Her brow lurched approvingly. "Aye, captain. Let's."
As they crossed to the door, Killian noticed his crewmates had abandoned the building – most likely returned to the ship after they had emptied their mugs. He gave the bartender a quick salute as they departed; the door closed behind them with a jingle as the little bell knocked against it.
Swan led him down the dark path, her hair billowing behind her as he followed. She was headed for the docks, it seemed, and Killian speculated to himself of what her vessel might look like – surely something smaller than his; the Jolly Roger was one of the most spectacular ships to ever sail the high seas.
They arrived in silence at the docks; the only harmony was the low croaking of the galleys rocking gently atop the water, the waves crashing into them on this windy night. The moonlight reflected off of the ripples in the water, granting them a faint light.
Killian hovered in his spot on the pier. His ship was the only ship anchored at the port, empty and eerie in the night. He was apprehensive of her as she stopped and spun around on her heel. "Where's your ship, captain?" he demanded firmly.
Swan readjusted her hat and paced closer to him, each of her steps ringing louder and louder in his head. His heart thumped wildly in his chest while he backed away from her, and he flattened himself against a column. Killian's sharp breaths lingered in a mist, vanishing into the cool evening air.
She was against him now, and he had nowhere to escape – a part of him hadn't felt it was necessary as her leg wrapped around his ankle, binding him in place. Swan's own breath mingled with his, the smell of rum and whiskey mixing into a tantalizing aroma. Her breath was hot as it pierced his stinging jaw. She rested her hand on his shoulder and brought herself face-to-face with him, cocking her head to one side so that she could brush her lips against his. The feather-light touch sent tingles up the back of Killian's neck.
"You're the captain of the Jolly Roger…" She was so close that Killian could almost taste the alcohol on her tongue. "I've heard marvelous tales of her – she's enchanted, able to travel seamlessly through worlds." Swan ran a strong finger down his exposed chest. "I've heard… tales… of you, lad."
Killian smiled against her lips. "My reputation precedes me then, love," he taunted, maintaining a mellow exterior. How badly his fingers longed to slink through her curls made him tremble under her weight.
It was her who brought their lips together in a tender kiss. Her mouth was wet and her breathing ragged with anticipation. "Aye, it does." Here was another – quicker but hungrier than the last. "How do you propose we get to Storybrooke then, captain?"
Killian reached up and plucked the hat from her head, tossing it to the side. It flopped lazily on the dock, the feather swaying in the wind. "A once-petrified bean, love." He made to grab her mouth with his teeth, but she escaped before he could catch her. "We restore its magical properties, and we will soon be on our way to this curiously-named land."
"Sounds like a decent plan," she whispered sharply, and Killian lolled his head back, groaning in thirst.
His breath caught in his throat as she panted an aggressive kiss on his lips. Killian's hook grazed along the small of her back and she shoved herself closer to him, their bodies ravenous and eager to close any breach of contact between them. Killian felt her sinking further into him and he inhaled the air from her lungs as if it was his last breath.
Swan's hands found his wrists and gripped them tightly, pulling them down to his sides. Killian felt her grasp tighten, thinking nothing of it as she shoved his hands behind his back around the pillar. There was a click in his ear, and he could feel a cold metal pressing against his cheek.
When she pulled away, he saw that it was the barrel of her pistol jamming into his cold face.
"Well, you certainly know how to tie a knot," Killian hissed. He tried to wriggle his wrists free, but it only constricted them more, the rough fabric of her scarf scratching against his skin.
Swan tilted her head again, but this time, it sent a different shiver up his spine. She wore a devious and fearless grin on her glistening lips. "I also know how to shoot a gun," she cautioned. "Is it true your ship can sail without a crew?"
Killian only stared at her, and he could feel the rage bubbling in his chest.
That seemed to be the answer she was seeking. Swan lowered her gun and laughed breathlessly, and Killian's eyes squinted with cynicism. "Thank you, my dear captain." She hoisted her hat from the ground and flipped it back onto her head gracefully.
The last thing Killian saw before he was hit with darkness was the butt of her pistol as it collided with his temple.
"Captain?" The voice was muffled in his head. He could see the faint outlines of a face close to his, and he blinked his eyes into focus. "Captain?"
Killian moaned at the pounding in his brow as he crawled to his feet, wringing his wrists free of the scarf. "Where the bloody hell is that woman?" he snarled, pushing his crewmates off of him after their attempt to help him up.
"The one you were with last night?"
Killian was seething. "Where in the bloody seven levels of hell were YOU lot last night?" Had they been on the ship, it would still be anchored safely in the harbor. Swan knew about the bean, about the enchantments. The Jolly Roger was the fastest vessel known, and no doubt she was long-gone now, in the hands of a thief.
"We – we were…" one of his crew stuttered nervously. "What happened?"
Killian's voice boomed. "Do you see my ship? Am I on it!?" He could feel his face growing hot with fury, and spit flew at their faces, but he was far from caring now. "She stole it, you dimwit!" His cries echoed violently off of the trees and the water. Killian paced to the end of the dock and strained his eyes for the silhouette, but all he could see was darkness – the stars glittering in the distance, teasing him.
Bloody pirates. "I will find you!" he bellowed at the sea. It responded with roars of its own. "And when I do, I will make you regret your decision." He whirled around and pushed his way through the crowd of men eyeing him. "Now let's go find her bloody ship."