Killian paced around the Charmings' loft anxiously. Mary Margaret and David had told him in gritty detail about Emma having thrown Cruella off the cliff after she'd threatened Henry.
To be honest, he wasn't as fearful as he had thought he might be.
He'd always known Emma to be a good person, always trying to help, always jumping in to make things right (after all, it was what made her the Savior, he thought proudly). And when it came to Henry, she was fiercely protective. He'd seen that in her during their first meeting and called her on it right on that beanstalk.
So when the Charmings told him what she'd done, his heart skipped a beat, but only for a moment.
As Mary Margaret rushed off to care for Neal, David plopped down at the table and covered his face with his hands. Killian knew that gesture. It meant a good stiff drink was needed. He ambled over to the cupboard, retreiving two glasses, and poured a good measure of rum from his flask in each.
As he seated himself, he slid a glass to David with the curve of his hook. "Looks like you could use a drink, mate."
"At this point, I need several, Hook." David took the glass and they silently toasted each other. After the liquor was gone, David pushed the glass back to the man who he knew loved his daughter just as much as he did himself. "Maybe one more."
A devilish smile broke over Killian's face, and he filled the glass, but with not quite as much as before. "Ah, mate. Told you we'd be getting along just fine." He took a sip of the smooth rum. "You're sorely vexed. Care to elaborate?"
David's eyes shot up to meet Killian's, and a slice of fear cut through his gaze. "She killed Cruella."
Killian sat silently, taking another sip. Finally, he felt brave enough to answer. "Yes, she did." He paused. "Dave, may I ask you a question?"
David shrugged as he tossed back another mouthful.
"If it had been you up there, with that Cruella woman holding a gun to Emma, what would you have done?"
"Cruella wouldn't have killed her! The Author took that away from her!"
"Ah," Killian said softly. "But we've already established the fact that Emma was not aware of this. So, mate, I shall ask you again." He leaned forward, meeting David's eyes. "What. Would. You. Have. Done."
Sighing deeply, the prince threw back the rest of the rum. "I don't know."
"Oh, bollocks." Killian poured them both another, and he threw back a good portion. "You would have done the same, run her through with your sword."
"But Emma..."
"Oh come off it, Dave!" Killian stood up and thumped the table with a fist. "Emma's the Savior, but gods, man, you know how she is with Henry! That devil woman would have killed Henry if she was able, and Emma was perfectly in her rights to protect that boy." He leaned in close, squinting hard at the broken man before him. "As much as you think Emma is turning, she's not. She's a mother, and a damn good one, and if Henry was my boy, I've had done the bloody same, and you know you would have as well."
David sighed. "Didn't you say it yourself, Hook? That the darkness can creep up in you?"
The pirate smirked. "I don't consider protecting ones family to be darkness. I know I may have been a villian, but you know damn well the only reason I became a pirate in the first place was to get back at the corrupt kingdom who sent us on a fool's errand that killed Liam."
Both men were silent.
David sipped the last of the rum. "Have you heard from her?"
Killian bit his lip. "I sent her a, well, whatever you call those word messages on talking phones here, and she said she's fine, just trying to clear her head."
The prince rubbed his face.
"I've got her, Dave, trust me. If anyone knows how she feels right now, it's me. And I will make sure she understands that she did the only thing she could do. That she's not going dark." He looked pleadingly at the broken man who had fathered the woman he loved so desperately.
David looked up. "Protect her, Hook."
Killian stood to his full height. "Your Highness, I promise that I shall endeavor to keep your daughter's heart safe and true. She saved me..." He tossed the remaining bit of the amber liquid, feeling the lovely burn as it slid down his throat... "And I shall not rest until I do the same for her."