Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT. If I did, this would be cannon.
AN: This is my first fanfiction in years. First in English. The idea came to me after watching " Poor Unfortunate Soul" and the comeback of The Jolly Roger. I had it at the back of my head and after season 4 finale spoilers, it just would not go away. Set after 4b finale. Partly inspired by Gabrielle Aplins song "The Power of Love" Big thanks to my lovely beta- mama-sass.
Night is lurking through the ship's portholes, bathing the dark captain's quarters in its dim light. Moonbeams are kissing her bare shoulders, illuminating her hair, making the soft waves seem almost silver. She looks like a goddess wrapped in a faded red quilt, lying peacefully on his narrow bed. Her breathing is even, angelic face relaxed and soft and for once. All her worries seem to be gone.
He watches her, eyes full of careful wonder. He refuses to close them, like he's sure she will disappear, if he does. So he keeps vigil, sitting in the dark of his quarters, sore back leaning against the cabin wall, long legs spread on the wooden deck, his shirt unbuttoned and hair ruffled from their previous activities. Waves are rocking his ship. They should have lulled him back to sleep but he's too wary of nightmares that have hunted his dreams for far too long. He pulls his knees to his chest, rests his arms on them. His stump is hidden beneath the dark blue sleeve of his shirt, leather brace gone, laying on a shabby desk a few feet away. A stark reminder of other dark times.
He rubs his face tiredly with his good hand and rests his head against his palm.
"I can feel your thinking," he hears her murmur. He sits up straight and eyes her still form. She has yet to move, her bare back still facing him. Even in the darkness he can still see that she hasn't even opened her eyes and a soft smile dancing on her lips.
"I'm alright, love"- he answers trying to keep exhaustion form his voice " just …" he shakes his head.
"Brooding?" she ask teasingly, sitting up and facing him, golden hair in disarray, a peace of quill held filmy to her bosom. Her eyes are a little skeptical, one eyebrow risen but that smile is still lingering on her lips. Gods – she is beautiful. She studies him for a moment. He cannot tell if she sees the circles under his eyes in the darkness surrounding them. He would not be surprised if she does, the magical being that she is.
She pats a spot next to her with her other hand, a silent request passing between them. He feels helpless against her plea, bare feet moving across the old hardwood deck. She takes his hand in hers, as he sits beside her. Their fingers intertwine as he catches himself thinking how much he had missed this simple gesture, still not believing she's here with him.
"You know" she says looking at their joined hands " that whole 'open book' thing – it works both ways."
Blue eyes meet emerald ones. She's smiling softly again and that makes him let out the breath he did not know he was holding. Her pale hand caresses his cheek, one long finger trailing an old scar. He leans into her touch. Porcelain skin feels warm and delicate against his scruff. A sigh escapes his lips and it's almost surreal, that a simple touch can chase his dark thoughts away.
"Talk to me, Killian," she pleads, her voice eager, her other hand covers their already joined ones.
He pauses for a moment, not ready to break the spell she has cast upon him.
"How did you manage…" she looks at him curiously as he clenches his jaw nervously "How did you manage to make it through?" He hopes she understands what is he asking about, too afraid to voice his thoughts aloud. That she will not take his fears as proof of him doubting her. That she'll know he is trying to learn from her strength.
"How did I manage to not to give myself into darkness?" she inquires knowingly. All he can do is nod.
She looks thoughtful for a moment, eyes searching something far away, fingers mindlessly playing with his hand. And he waits patiently, as always.
"It was many things, I guess," she whispers. "What Henry would have said. That annoying optimism of my parents - it's probably genetics," she snarls and he finds himself chuckling a little. "The thought, that I alone am able to deicide, who I am and will be," she continues. "I hate all that fate and destiny crap. No one decides for me but me. Look, when that had led us before," she rolls her eyes and he starts relaxing, recognizing a well-known pattern of her behavior. She is a tough lass.
"But most of all, I had a reason not to give up…" Her hands grip the edges of his shirt, sliding down from collar to hem, with mesmerizing speed, making him catch his breath. "One I had not had before. That kept the darkness at bay." She looks up to him, eyes shining with emotions, he is afraid to name. She eyes him, a little bit surprised, a little bit teasingly. "Don't you know, Killian?…It's you."
His heart skips a beat, mouth hangs agape and for once in his life, he's speechless. All flowery words gone, he's gapping like a fish. A smile tags her lips once again and then he's kissing her. Lips hungry, insistent, hand caressing her check, stump pressing her lower back. Her fingers anchor themselves in his locks as his tips her head back. The quill falls between them. Tongues are dancing, hands tracing exposed skin. His shirt is gone, long forgotten, somewhere on the floor. Her back hits the bed, taking him with her. Lips are brushing against each other. Skin is touching skin. And they move together to the rhythm of their heartbeats.
She's not The Savior this night. And yet she is. His Savior, his light, his happy ending.
Love is a strange and funny thing- it banishes all the darkness away, even if it's for one night, one moment in time only. But then again- maybe it could be forever…