It had been at least three hundred years since Killian had last shared breathing space with a woman so intriguing, so unique, so wonderful, it made him lose himself entirely in her. Only this time, his infatuation was probably far worse than with any woman ever before. Maybe 'worse' was not the appropriate term, actually. Being in love again was a wonderful feeling! His stomach fluttered every time she was even fifty feet away and he was unable to control the bashful reddening of his cheeks when she smiled his way. And what could be said now? Emma Swan was finally his… HIS! Well, not technically "his" his, but… his. And that alone was enough to reach into that world that had been kept locked deep, deep down; that vault that now slowly came back into the light and threatened to spill all its magic colors, joys, tears, moments…
"Hey… come back…"
Her soft, velvety whisper drew his gaze into hers. A kind grin awaited him as they both lay beneath the willow tree, by the bench at the park, overlooking the lagoon. The sun had started to descend on the horizon and delivered a majestic display of pinks, greens and oranges tht reflected on the water like the northern lights.
"Hmm?"
"How many leagues away from me are you right now, Captain?" she smiled as she nuzzled into his embrace.
Who would have thought this was going to be so damn comfortable? Had she only known they wouldn't have wasted so much time.
Killian sighed and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Sorry, Swan. I was just reminiscing something... from long ago."
"How long ago?"
"Quite long ago. You know…" He grinned. "There was a similar lagoon near my home, when I was a lad…"
Emma sat up and looked at him with a bemused grin. "You've never talked about your childhood before…"
"Aye…" He grinned. "And you of all people should clearly understand why, love."
Emma nodded. "Painful…"
"Very. But…" He huffed smiling. "It wasn't always so bad…"
The blonde dislodged herself from his embrace and sat cross-legged before him, holding his one good hand with both of hers. "I'd like to hear one of those nice stories, Killian… I can sort of picture you, little boy, big blue eyes, black hair, running around with your brother."
Killian chuckled. "At times, yes. We had a farm."
Emma furrowed her brow. "You... were a farmer?"
"Aye. Or a farmer's son. My father had dreams of one day becoming a sailor or a merchant marine. Never worked for him quite that way. In the end, he just inherited his father's farm and we all lived there. Liam was a woodcarver's apprentice..." He shrugged. "My father was... well..."
"Tell me a story, Killian." Emma grinned warmly. "A nice one."
Killian raised his hook and mussed her hair behind her ear, delighted to see she didn't even flinch at having the sharp, curved object so near her face. "Well, sometimes good and bad memories are entwined, darling… I can't share the good if I don't also share the bad."
Emma's smile disappeared into a very embarrassed frown. "Yeah, of course, I'm sorry… I don't mean to… I …"
He giggled. "Don't sweat it, Swan. I'll always tell you everything you want to know about me. I can't keep a secret from you, we've both seen what that can do."
She recovered her grin and sighed. "Ok…."
He looked into the lagoon and a grin, an adorable, beautiful, nostalgic grin rose on his lips the likes Emma had never before seen on him.
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"And now, foul ogre, I will vanquish thee!"
Clack, clack, crashed the two wooden swords.
"Oh who shall be the one brave knight to rescue me?" Wailed the fair little girl.
"Tis I, fair Moirin! Prince Killian, come to rescue thee!"
The older boy played along with his younger siblings. "Gragh! I shall rip thee from limb to limb, prince Killian!"
"You beast! You shall not!" And the little boy turned a pirouette that astounded even his older brother.
"Wait, wait, wait there, son!" Liam laughed and stopped his seven-year-old brother, who smiled at him intently. "Quite good form! Where did you learn that particular maneuver?"
Killian looked at Liam in the eye, his own glistening with the magic of childhood. "The smithie in town taught me, brother!" he replied enthusiastically. "Said I had a flair, would you agree?"
"I would indeed." Liam chuckled.
"Oooiiii! Who will rescue me now!?"
Moirin's squeak brought another grin to Liam's face. "Never mind, dear princess!" he laughed. "We should be thinking about dinner, papa will be back soon, and you know how he gets if his dinner's not done."
At fifteen, Liam was pretty much the biggest caretaker of his younger brother Killian and his little twin sister, Moirin. Liam had been born unto a different mother who had died of plague, while the little twins had still seen some of their mother before she left them all. That particular incident had caused their father, Seamus, to spiral down into a haze of alcohol and woe.
The Jones' were no strangers to abandonment. They were practically alone every day and while Liam had lost his mother to death, the little twins still wondered when mama would come home. But the bond between the three was practically unbreakable... even when their father came home drunk from the local bar.
His favorite victim had always been Killian. For two reasons: One, he looked most like his mother. Second, because he was the least submissive and had a rebellious streak all his own, something that desperately needed to be snuffed out. More than once, Liam had stood up for his little brother for as long as he could, but in the end, it only made Seamus Jones' anger worse… and the three children would pay for Killian's defiance. So Killian, the natural born little valiant on a constant hero's journey, would take his father's beatings.
Not this once, however… this once they were right on time to have the old man's dinner prepared, his bath drawn and his bed at the ready.
It was later in the evening that he rose, inexplicably, and reached for his belt, made his way to Killian's bunk and dragged him out to the barn for a harsh buckle-pounding… for no particular reason; Or maybe just because the boy had his mother's summer sky blue eyes.
The following morning, the man was gone to the pub once more… earlier than usual. Liam rose and looked for his siblings. Moirin slept soundly on her bunk above Killian's…. but Killian was not there.
He ran to see if his little brother had perhaps gotten up early; he seemed to have a bit of a habit of doing so. And indeed, he found the boy, crouching by the water of the pond, playing with a wooden boat his papa had carved for him before he'd gone bad.
Liam smiled. "Brother!" he huffed as he approached. "you scared me half to death! Why didn't you wake me up to fix breakf…" When the boy turned his teary eyes to Liam, the older boy gasped in horror at the vision of his beautiful brother's bloody face. He ran to him and slid to the dusty ground, shaking Killian by the shoulders. "Oh, bloody hell… Killian, was it 'im again?"
Killian merely nodded.
"But why?"
The child shrugged.
Liam nodded. "Enough is enough. Come now. Let's go back indoors and get our sister ready, brother. We're leaving."
Killian pinched his black eyebrows. "Where will we go, Liam? We have no food, no gold, your only trade is wood carving… what will become of us?"
Liam closed his eyes. "I know not, brother… but papa will never hurt you again. I will take care of you, Killian; you and Moirin." Killian hugged his brother hard and wept as Liam rubbed his unruly black mop of hair. "I promise you."
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"So there's a third Jones'!" Emma smiled. "I didn't know you had a twin sister!"
"Moirin, yes… such a little spitfire, that one." He chuckled. "Looked nothing like me; she was a ravishing little lass, ginger hair, big blue eyes... and a smile that could stop all ships in port."
Emma rubbed his arm. "Is she still in the forest? Was she not swept by the curse?"
Killian side grinned and shook his head. "No, Swan. The curse can do many things, except raise the dead."
The Savior heaved and shook her head. "I'm sorry…" She looked back to him and found a shockingly peaceful demeanor on his face. "You miss her?"
"Aye. Every day. She passed not long after the day I got beaten by my father…"
Emma touched Killian's right cheek, running her finger down the scar on the right side of his nose.
"Is that how…?"
"Aye." He touched it gingerly, as if the wound were still fresh… in many ways it still was. "To this day I do not know what prompted that particular beating. The man was evil… just off his head. He blamed me for my mother's departure. Not to mention I have my mother's looks. He couldn't handle that. So..." he shrugged and tried to smile, much like he had smiled at her when confessing how he had traded his ship for her; a smile devoid of joy. ""It could be said I was his scapegoat."
Emma bit her lower lip, her brows an inverted 'v'. "Oh, Killian…"
"It's in the past, love." He touched her nose with his finger. "Can't hurt me any more."
"We both know that's a lie, Hook…"
They exchanged a knowing silence, their eyes locked in each other's knowing gaze. Those two really did understand each other on a very deep level.
"I suppose the trick is in remembering it as a spectator." She added. "Try not to involve yourself, try not to say, 'that little boy is me'… You know what I mean?"
Killian nodded with a grin. "You're an angel, Swan." He looked down at his hand as she locked her fingers between his. "I hadn't spoken to anyone other than Liam about this. Not even Milah knew…"
She leaned back into his chest. "I appreciate the trust, Killian. I really do."
There was a short silence; they both used the moment to simply breathe each other's company while a bird sang to the setting sun. There was now but a thin line of golden sunlight reflected on the water.
"Wait…" Emma muttered suddenly. "Something doesn't add up; I thought your father had left you…"
Killian sighed. "That he did. Running from the King's soldiers. About a day after he…" He caught his breath and pressed his lisps hard, closing his eyes, probably to stop tears.
Emma looked at him intently. "After he what, baby?"
Killian once again huffed a heavy sigh as he looked out into the water, unable to contain a single tear from running down his cheek.
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"What do you mean the stables are not clean, lad?" Seamus hollered at Killian. "Are you really that bloody useless, boy?"
Killian shriveled in a corner. "I took Moirin to the doctor's, papa! She's got a fever, she's so sick! Please!"
Seamus took a cane and whacked him twice over the shoulder. "I don't care about excuses, you useless bilge rat! You're no good, you were no good when you were born and you're still no good now!" He raised his cane again while Killian cowered, his little bleeding hands over his head as he screamed in fear, and delivered one thud per word. "Worthless, stupid, pathetic..."
Liam ran in and stopped the cane before it fell on Killian's head once more. "STOP, YOU BASTARD!" he gave his drunken father a shove. "You'll kill him!"
Seamus staggered back and returned his face to his eldest son. "Well, well… Look who's finally become a man!" He picked up the cane once more and turned to Liam. "Let's see how well you can hold the title, boy…" He began to club Liam; the still gangly teenager was able to fend off a few of the blows but soon after, he was on the floor. Killian shouted from the corner, "Papa, please! Stop! Please, don't! Please, leave him!"
The shouting only seemed to feed the wrath of the drunken Jones as he beat the teenager unconscious. Killian sobbed, standing at the corner. "You killed him!"
"Nay, lad, he's just not man enough to remain on his feet." He turned to the boy. "And you… I'm not done with you; I'll teach you to be a man, boy, if it's the last thing I ever do…"
Killian shook and quivered in his place as his father staggered back and forth, delivering a final kick to Liam's ribs before turning to him again, cane in hand… only to be stopped by the pain of an arrow behind his shoulder. Howling in pain, he turned to find little Moirin, looking feverish and drawn, holding a crossbow.
"That's enough, papa!" She shouted, stern looking.
In spite of his pain and anger, Seamus managed to laugh. "And it turns out the wee lass is twice the man that both my sons ever will be!"
She approached, droplets on her forehead from the dreadful fever that had befallen on her. "Papa… leave Killian alone. He's done nothing to you. He's little, he can't fight back."
Killian looked on from the corner, still shaking, and completely unaware that he had wet himself, yet another trigger for his father's wrath.
"Well, that's not a problem for you, lassie!" Seamus ripped the arrow out. "Perhaps I should send YOU to the Ogre wars and these two pathetic boys should do the weaving and washing…." He approached the girl and effortlessly ripped the crossbow from her tiny hands. "Still, no wee female will ever… EVER be tellin' me what I should do." He picked the girl up by the neck and hung her in the air. As the young child gasped for air, Killian shouted. "Papa, DON'T! DON'T! PLEASE!"
All it took was one shake of the hand.
Seamus threw the little girl into a heap of straw. "Now go back to your bed, you miserable little rat, or you'll be gettin' me belt next…"
The child didn't move.
The drunken man staggered in place, looking at her limp little body on the heap of hay. "M… Moirin?"
Killian stared, his lower lip quivering, eyes wide as dinner plates as they shone with tears, as the man approached the child, trembling. He turned her little face to him, and two little blue eyes stared blankly past his shoulder. "Oh… no…" He whispered. "Lass… lassie… wake up!"
Moirin had a broken neck; no magic, however powerful, would be able to restore that. The child was dead.
Liam had regained consciousness and stood beside his little brother, with tears of shock and horror in his own eyes. "What did you do, papa? WHAT DID YOU DO?" He shouted.
Seamus turned, eyes glazed and panicked from the outcome of his deeds. "Lads… lads, help your papa… help your papa, take her to the lagoon." He begged, his hands shaking as he paced to his sons. "She… she can't be found… I'll hang! They'll hang your papa in the main square, m'boys! Please! Liam, Killian, help me take your sister to the lagoon…"
Liam pushed him and he fell to the floor, turning to run out the stable. Killian stood still, still as a statue, his shocked gaze still fixed on his dead sister. The whole world sounded like a numb hum, thousands of miles away, as if he had been submerged under water.
Seamus found no help that night; Killian was paralyzed and Liam was gone. He wrapped the girl's body in a cloth as best he could and dumped it in the lagoon. It wasn't until he heard the distant sound of cavalry approaching that he figured out Liam had gone to tell the authorities what had transpired. He took his son, who was silent as a rock, and dragged him through the streets of his village, stopping at a port, where he anxiously caressed the boy's head, repeating over and over how they would travel the realms, just the two of them, to never return… they'd mend things, they'd be father and son and find a place where nobody knew them… Killian heard him from a mile away… But his mind was still with Moirin; she'd given her life to defend him. She was dead because of him.
Killian slept at an inn where Seamus had left him and three days later, Liam and the King's cavalry found the child under a bridge, cold and ill… but alive.
Seamus Jones was never seen again.
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Emma found it hard to hold back the tears as Killian continued to stare out into the pond. "It took me three years to start talking again." He chuckled. "Three years. Quite a record for a mouthy, sassy pirate, eh, Swan?" he smirked. But Emma did not smile back.
"That's not funny…" she looked into his eyes.
He looked back at her and swallowed hard as averted his gaze to the water. "Aye well…"
"Killian…" she placed her hand on his chest. "This is big… You shouldn't just brush it off like this."
He said nothing.
"Killian?"
She was surprised to see him, breaking down suddenly, a heaving, weeping man, a grown man, crying for the little boy who had remained silent for three years. "She died for me Emma! She… I didn't even fight! I just… stood there! He killed her and I did nothing!" He sniffed hard before breaking down again. "I'm a coward, a coward adorned with big words, a hook and a blade, Swan, bloody hell…"
Emma instinctively held him to her and caressed his hair. "No, no you're not. You were a little boy, Killian, there was nothing you could have done. What happened to you then does NOT define what you are now, Killian, look at me!" she pulled his face up and looked into his eyes; the expression, the sheer pain and loss on his face was completely new to Emma. There was no trace of the saucy king of innuendos for the time being… this man she loved was hurting and finally letting go of all that hurt. She was both delighted and heartbroken to be the one to help ease his long contained pain. She smiled at him. "You're a hero to me…"
He blinked tears and grinned as he sniffed. "I hate that you have to see me like this…"
"I don't." she kissed his forehead. "Means you trust me. Hell, you cleaned tears from my face, remember?" she grinned and repeated his action with her thumb on his cheeks.
Killian grinned. "And I'd be only too glad to do it again when needed… Just…" He sniffed and sat up straight. "Please… tell no one."
She wrinkled her nose. "What happens between us stays between us. I promise."
Killian smiled and looked at the lagoon.
Emma sighed and leaned against his chest. "Thanks for sharing…"
"What, Swan? Such a nefarious story?"
"It wasn't all nefarious!" she smiled. "There was that bit about the sword-fight… saving the princess from the Ogre…"
Killian chuckled and after a brief pause, he suddenly stood. "Come on, Swan…"
"Oh, noooo…" she whined as she grabbed his hand, helping her stand. "Whyyy?"
"Because…" He said as he browsed around for two large branches. "You're the savior and you are not exactly the best swordfighter. One never knows… Come on. Just like Lake Nostos."
"What? If I recall correctly I was the one to knock you out there, Captain…"
Killian turned to her with a smirk. "Did you really think you could beat a 300 year old bladesman after you had picked up your sword for the very first time, Emma?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't…" He smirked at her. "You… let me win?" she gasped in mock horror and found her own thick branch, turning to him for combat. "Bad form!"
"Quite the contrary, my love!" He giggled. "Cora wanted me to finish you off and quite frankly, I thought you were too beautiful and too special to do it. So I saved your life, there, by playing possum…"
"Oh, my hero…" she mocked as Killian grabbed a long stick. "Go on, pirate, defend yourself."
"As you wish, milady…"
And they duelled, much like Killian and Liam had so many years ago, by the pond near their home, over the life of Princess Moirin Jones.
The following morning, just at the crack of dawn, a leather-cloaked figure paced by the edge of that same lagoon; he was holding a crown of white lilies, which he gently deposited on the surface of the water. As the crown drifted inwards into the deep end of the lagoon, Killian smiled and sighed. "I never said it… but I owe you one, fair princess Moirin. Thank you, love…." He blew a kiss in the random direction of the water, and returned home to Emma's bedside.
The savior stirred after he shed his clothes once more and pressed herself into his chest as he spooned her. "Where were you?" She moaned softly, still groggy.
"Just… visited a fair maid at the lagoon."
"Flowers?"
"Aye…"
"Good. Go back to sleep…"
And he slept like a child… because even as a child, he had never had the chance to sleep so soundly.
This was home.
