Title: Over Land and Under Sea
Rating: M for language (additional content to be tagged later)
Summary: Finding herself in trouble, Emma is surprised to find the handsome man who wears a seal skin and claims to have magic may not be as crazy as he seems. But it's going to take more than just magic to keep these two together when a deadly danger from the past comes back to haunt them. Written for CSSNS featuring selkie!Killian.
A/N: Wow. I can't believe it, but I'm back! No seriously, it's been far too long since I wrote ANYTHING, that I just have to give huge thanks to kmomof4 for putting this CSSNS together. It's given me the motivation I needed to tell this story that has been niggling at me for almost 2 years now. That said, some of you may recall I had a similar story with the same name I published a while back. I've decided to tell this version instead (the other one just wasn't sitting right with me, though I do know a lot of you really enjoyed it). I think that this is a much fuller, more exciting version. I hope you will like it. I'm expecting it to be around 20 chapters long, with updates about every 3 weeks or so for now, possibly less in the future. What I lack in updates, i tend to make up for with extremely long chapters :)
Also, I have to thank mryddinwilt for looking this over and for inspiring this fic with her recommendation of the movie Song of the Sea. It's wonderful and moving, and just so, so sweet.
As always, reviews, follows, and faves are much appreciated!
Chapter 1:
Emma took a deep breath of salty air and willed her heart to slow to the rhythm of the pounding waves. She reminded herself that she'd been in dire straights before, though maybe none quite like this, and that the only who needed to rescue her was herself. There was no need to panic about being trapped on a deserted island. None at all. There just had to be some way out of here she hadn't thought of yet.
With a final deep breath, Emma opened her eyes to the blinding sun, shed her jacket and pulled her long hair back into a pony tail. Now she was ready to kick the island's ass or die trying. And, if she did end up getting out of this stupid mess she made for herself, there was one thing she knew for certain—she was never going near the ocean again.
"Emma, I need your help."
Eyes closed to keep out the way-too-early morning sun, Emma grumbled into her phone. "You do realize I do most of my work at night, right David?"
"Sorry, sis, but this is serious. I need you to get up here to Storybrooke as soon as you can."
He certainly sounded serious, but she was still trying to switch from asleep to awake and processing anything this early wasn't a skillset of hers. She rolled out of bed and zombied her way towards the coffee maker, silently cursing out her brother the whole way. "Are you or Mary Margaret in the hospital?"
"No. We're fine. This is about a case."
Stopping the water-filled coffee pot mid-pour, she threw her head back and groaned loudly. "Seriously?"
"I know, I know. But there's a couple of missing kids and you're the only person I trust with this."
Missing kids? What the hell? That was like government level stuff. Why would he need her help with that? "I'm a private investigator who handles things like cheating spouses, David. I don't go after missing kids. That's your area. Or like CPS or the FBI. What's going on?"
"Look, can you just come and I'll explain everything. Please. Time's kind of an issue."
Finally, the aroma of brewing coffee hit her nose, triggering her brain that it was time to wake the fuck up. If David was calling her in on this, that meant there was a lot more to it than a couple missing kids. It meant this was big. And dangerous. "Yeah, sure. I'm on my way."
Two and half hours later, Emma pulled into Storybrooke's tiny police station, expecting to see a flurry of activity (or what passed for it with as little actual staff as he had), but instead found only her brother and a unknown man enclosed in his office.
Not bothering to knock, she entered the room and threw herself into her favorite chair, the one with the worn brown leather that smelled like old pipe tobacco. "I'm here. So do you want to tell me why I drove all the up here before—" she paused to look at her phone—"ten a.m. on a Monday morning?" She gave her brother a significant looked that meant 'you'd better start talking or I'm getting right back into the car and returning to Boston'.
Clearly, her brother knew that look. "It wouldn't have been a long drive if you'd take the deputy job I keep offering you."
"And miss all the fabulous Boston eateries? Not going to happen," she snorted. It was an old argument and not one she was in the mood to revisit "Now, are you going to tell me what's so important that you got me out of bed at the ass crack of dawn or should I go right back to my Ernesto's."
David glared as he grumbled out a "You better be inviting me and Mary Margaret along next time you eat there," while standing from his chair in order to introduce her to the man who had his head buried in his hands. With a deliberate cough, he turned their conversation back to the case. "Emma, this is Michael Tillman. He's the father of the twins, Nick and Ava. They went missing early this morning on their way to school."
Upon introduction, the man lifted his head, standing to shake hands. He was tall, had a cropped haircut and a suit that looked like they set him back several hundred or more. Some sort of businessman, she guessed, and a successful one, if his look was anything to go by, which was why his disheveled hair and deep darkness under his eyes was so startling. The man was clearly in great distress.
Emma shot another look at her brother, and David scooted a file folder across his desk towards her with all the details he had gathered so far. She took a moment to watch Mr. Tillman collapse back into his seat and resume running his hand through his hair before bending to look over what David had put together.
As she read, her mood shifted from curiosity to anger. She gritted her teeth while scanning the rest of the file and tried not to storm out of David's office. This man was no saint. He'd only gained custody of the children about a year ago when their mother, Evie Starwalt died of cancer. Who knew if he even wanted to be in their lives or if it was something forced on him? The picture of the kids on the top of the file caught her eye. They were on either side of their dad and neither of them were wearing big smiles, even if Tillman was. Were those kids were like her, hesitant to let in the man who abandoned them? They had a wary took about them in the photo that was achingly familiar. The type of look she wore when she was about ready to run away. Maybe those kids were better off on their own.
Hell no. She would not be working for this man. Let David sort this mess out.
"I'm sorry that your twins ran away," she said after a moment, glaring unapologetically at the man David was trying to comfort.
Then she handed back the file to her brother. "Aren't you capable of tracking them down on your own? Why did you call me for this?"
Surprising her, Mr. Tillman cleared his throat and stood up, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Ms. Swan, I know what the file says, and I'll admit that the twins and I haven't always had the easiest of relationships, so I know how this looks on paper. So does David. But I…I love my kids more than life itself and I promise you, they didn't run away." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the guys denial. Saying he loved them was nothing compared to the thirteen years he was absent from their lives. She knew a thing or two about it.
"Then what happened to them?" She replied tersely. David gave her a sharp look but kept his mouth shut. He knew her past well enough that he should have anticipated this as her reaction.
Tillman didn't even seem to notice. "They were kidnapped. By Eddie Teach."
Well, she wasn't expecting to hear that.
Emma whistled low. "Are you serious? Eddie Teach? The smuggler and crime lord? What makes you think he's behind this?" It was one hell of an accusation. Teach was a name synonymous with shady arms deals, smuggled black market goods, and several well-orchestrated assassinations, if the rumors were true. A rather notorious modern-day pirate, but not really someone who would kidnap a couple random kids. Unless there was a sizeable ransom or Tillman owed him big time. She was willing to bet it was the former.
"I run a pretty profitable high-end car dealership in Portland. Once upon a time, Teach was one of my, um, business partners," Tillman coughed, and she could tell that he meant the not-so-legal kind of business. What a shock. Sensing her disapproval, he held up a hand. "But I promise you, I went legit several years ago. David can attest to that if you don't believe me. Anyway, last week, Teach approached me out-of-the-blue with an offer to sell off some of his merchandise. Very nice stuff. All stolen. I said no, I had a family to think about. Told him I had quit that life a long time ago. He promised me I'd regret it. I guess I thought that was the end of it. Until I got this."
At that, the man leaned over and showed her a text message on his phone from an blocked number:
YOU WERE WARNED—BB
"And you think this is from him?"
Tillman nodded. "I know it. The BB stands for Blackbeard. Teach always had a thing for the pirate since they shared the same name. That's how he always signed his messages when we worked together."
"No ransom demand?"
"Nothing yet," David answered for Tillman. "But we think it's because it's only been a couple hours or so. He'll want to make Michael here sweat it out for a bit so he'll be sure to pay up."
Emma sighed, "Look, guys, It's not much evidence to go on, but I'll admit it does seem plausible. Even so, going after a crime boss is a bit out of my league. Why not call the FBI in on this? Surely they'd look into it at least."
"Here's the problem," David answered, "Teach's got to have some powerful friends in government to keep his operation going as smoothly as it's been for this long. I don't know who I can trust with this. Besides, Sis, you're the best at finding people. All I need to know is where he took the kids, which we're assuming is where his base of operations is. I'm not expecting you to storm the place, just locate it. I can call in some favors and handle it from there."
"And I can pay. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. I just want my kids back," Tillman pleaded.
God, she hated this. She didn't trust the man, but he hadn't been lying. In her experience, however, people never changed, never made up for the past. They never came back. David was the only exception to the rule. She had been placed with his mother, Ruth, when she was a teen, and from day one, David referred to her as his sister. She had thought it was only a nickname he made up, but little did she suspect he really meant it. Then, after she got moved to a new home, he kept in touch via letters, always signing them with 'Your brother, David.' His loyalty meant more to her than she could ever express. Even when she wound up in prison because of Neal, David didn't abandon her. So, when she was released, she finally relented and accepted her role as little sister in her life.
Which was why she couldn't say no now. Not to mention, she genuinely did want to help those kids. She couldn't help but empathize with them. They'd had a pretty rough go at life so far, and there was no way she was going to leave their fate in the hands of some gangster-pirate wannabe. So, she was going to do this. For David and for the kids. Not for the sorry excuse of a father sitting in front of her.
"Fine," she agreed, looking up at her brother. "What do you know about where he might be?"
David gave her a slight smile and sifted through a small stack of photos and papers, handing them over to her. Most of them were of a large fancy-looking sailboat sporting two tall masts with giant sails, lots of varnished wood, and antique replica-style touches-the kind only rich people who probably had their own private island could afford. "Michael told me that this ship belongs to Teach and I checked with our harbormaster. He confirmed that it was docked here all week and only left this morning."
Emma scanned a security cam photo and snorted. "Queenie's Revenge? You really weren't kidding about theBlackbeard thing," she told Tillman before looking back at her brother. "Call the Coast Guard. Let them know what's going on."
"Same problem as before. I don't know who I can trust. I call the Coast Guard and I risk tipping him off. Who knows where's he's stashed the kids and what he plans on doing with them? Look, I realize this is a long shot, but if he's taking them on a boat, most likely wherever he's holed up is somewhere along the coast. We find his safe house, we find the kids, I guarantee it."
Rubbing her forehead, Emma shook her head. He was asking a lot of her. But given the evidence she saw, she'd say he was right. Teach most likely had some sort of compound or hideout of something along the coast, likely to the north, as that area was less industrialized and developed. Tons of places to set up his operation. "I'm going to need a map of the coast."
David grinned, reaching into a drawer. "On it."
Emma sighed at the eager expression on her brother's face, and forced herself to focus. If she was doing this, and it seemed that she was, she needed to know exactly what she was dealing with. "Mr. Tillman, can you tell me any more about your dealings with the man? How he thinks? What he's capable of?"
"I…I don't know. It was years ago. I was in a bad place. Evie had just told me she was pregnant. We were flat broke, fighting all the time. I…I ran out on her. It was the worst thing I've ever done."
He wasn't lying.
A sick feeling stirred in her stomach, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, trying not to let her emotional turmoil show. "How do you live with yourself? Knowing you left them?"
What was it she was feeling? Disgust? Horror? No. It was something bitter and far more personal.
Tillman paled and looked down at his hands which he was rubbing over his pants' legs. "I know I messed up. I know I'm an awful person. But I promise you, I've been trying to be better." Emma glared at him and hated the fact that her inner lie detector still didn't go off. "When Evie got sick and reached out, I realized this was the second chance I'd been hoping for. Twelve years and they're all I've thought about. Laying eyes on them for the first time was the hardest thing I've ever done. I was terrified they'd hate me for leaving, and for a while, they did. Understandably. But I've been trying to do my best and things have gotten better. I'd do anything to get them back safe, Ms. Swan. Anything. I'll pay whatever you ask. I have a feeling Teach'll want some sort of astronomically high ransom. And Lord help me, I'll pay it, too. I don't care. I just want them back."
Listening to Tillman's story was like being doused in a wet blanket and then being shocked by an electric current. She knew what she was feeling now, and hated herself for it. David must have seen the distress on her face, no matter how hard she was trying to hide it, and came over, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. It helped a little, but not enough.
Because while David knew that what Emma wanted more than anything was a family, he never knew just how badly she wanted it. Up until this moment, even she didn't know. What she wouldn't have given to have had a parent show even a fraction of the concern Tillman was showing. But her jealousy had no place in this investigation, so she swallowed and took a breath, slightly pulling away from David's hand. She needed to focus. There were a couple kids who needed her, and wallowing in the past was not going to help anyone.
"Okay," she whispered, voice cracking.
Thankfully, Tillman was far too preoccupied by worry to notice and he proceeded to answer her questions as if she didn't about have a full blown panic attack right in front of him. David, on the other hand, kept giving her concerned looks every five seconds until she finally rolled her eyes and nodded that she was okay.
"As far as Teach," Tillman said, "he's utterly ruthless and without conscious. But he's also got an ego the size of California. He thinks he's untouchable. His hideout will be large, ostentatious, probably not too easily guarded. He's always relied on his reputation to keep anyone away that means harm, and his bribes to the authorities cover everything else."
Emma nodded, a loose plan already starting to take shape. "Alright. I can work with that."
David squeezed her shoulder once and headed back to his desk for the map. "Here you go," he said. The maps showed numerous little islands, secluded coves, and forested areas. He could be anywhere. She was going to need more information.
"I'm going to the docks and see what the harbormaster can tell me about Teach's ship."
"Do you want back up?" David asked, clearly meaning more than police support. He wanted to know if this case was going to be too much, if her past was going to interfere with her being objective.
It wasn't, she wasn't going to let it. She stood up, slipped a photo of the yacht and one of the two little kids-arms slung over each other-into her jacket pocket, and gathered the map he'd handed to her. "I'll be fine, David. You keep working it from this end. Let me know what you turn up. And Mr. Tillman? Call me if you hear back from Teach with a ransom."
Tillman glanced up, but his whole body now seemed little and frightened. She might not have gotten the resolve she wanted with her parents, but here was a father determined to make up for his mistakes and fight for his family. She could appreciate that and it only hardened her resolve further. If she couldn't have her happy ending with her family, she was going to make damn sure this family had theirs.
"Be careful, sis." David called after her.
She gave him a grim smile and flung back her hair as she opened the office door. "Always am."
The harbor was busy, the water bright and shimmering in the noon-day sun. Emma had ran in to Grannies for a grilled cheese and onion rings to go, and had hastily shoveled them down on her way to the quay, knowing she'd probably not have much of a chance to eat later. Hoping she didn't smell too much like greasy diner food, she popped a mint in her mouth and pulled back her hair into a loose chignon, throwing on a pair of gold sunglass for good measure.
The offices of the harbormaster were open, so she strolled in, looking as intimidating as she could in a red leather jacket, grey tank, black jeans, and black boots. An older man with grizzled hair and grimy t-shirt at the back of the shop gave her a quick once-over and smiled. "Help you, sweetheart?"
Emma reached for her cell phone, flicking through random apps to appear busy and not even looking at the man. "Yeah, I'm hoping you're the person who can help me. I'm the personal assistant of Gus Gordon, CEO of the Gordon's Fisherman company," she lied smoothly, hoping it sounded as plausible to him as it did to her when she thought up this scheme waiting for her food at Granny's.
"He's been looking into purchasing a new yacht for his own personal use. When I arrived this morning, I noticed you had the kind of yacht he's been eyeing docked here, so I was hoping you had the owner's contact information or maybe where his home berth is. I'm just wondering if he'd be interested in selling, especially since I could make him a very generous offer." She made sure to keep her voice alluring and her smile soft, playing up the flirtatiousness in her attitude.
Taking a little too long to look over the curve of her ass and the bra slightly showing through her tank, the man shook his head. "Well, now, we normally don't just give that sort of thing out."
"I'd make sure you were more than adequately compensated for your time," she purred, making sure to give him a more teasing smile when he leaned in towards her enough that she could smell the cigar he'd been smoking earlier. Ignoring the creepy-crawlies running over her skin, she was confident she'd have him as putty in her hands.
He grinned widely back, making sure to step into her space. "Since you put it like that, I'm sure he'd not mind. It's all in the spirit of generosity, after all." Stepping over to a cluttered desk, he riffled through some of his papers, finally producing a log book. Quickly, he copied down some information on the back of an old envelope and passed it over. "Here you go, sweetheart."
She took a quick glance at it—Queenie's Revenge, a classic sailing yacht owned by one Thomas Edwards, departed Storybrooke's harbor heading towards Canada at approximately seven-thirty that morning-before tucking it away in her back pocket. North. He was sailing north like she suspected and had only a few hours head start. It was not quite eleven-thirty yet, and a ship that size running sail would probably not be making full speed, which—a quick check on her phone confirmed—might be at best 15-20 knots. A smaller, motorized boat could go up to 40-50 knots. That meant, if she could get a fast enough boat to go after it, she might be able to chase him down and track him right back to his hideout.
But where was she going to find a boat like that?
Remembering herself, she held out her hand. "Thank you so much Mr—"
"Silver. Johnathan Silver," the man informed, squeezing her palm tightly.
She pulled away as quickly as she dared, and gave him another fake smile. "Well, Mr. Silver, I'm sure Mr. Gordon will be very appreciative if this deal goes through."
"How appreciative?"
"Very," she insinuated.
"I'll hold you to it, then." He smiled, his dark eyes distant, almost like he was seeing the dollar signs already. "Anything else you need, sweetheart?"
Emma schooled her features into one of thrilled pleasure at the endearment. Now, things were going to get tricky. "Well, come to think about it, could you tell me if you have any smaller yachts available to rent out for the day? Maybe something with some real speed to it? I'm thinking about getting something for myself someday and seeing as I'm visiting all these little port towns, might as well mix a little business with pleasure, if you know what I mean."
His grin grew as he looked down her shirt again. "I do indeed. In fact, I think I've got just the thing for you."
"Perfect. Thank you." David was going to kill her, that was for sure. But she'd call him once she was already out on the water and unable to make good on any threats. It was sort of his idea anyway. He'd hired her to track Teach down. Well, this was the way she was going to do it. Besides, she'd gone sailing with David and Mary Margaret a couple times. She knew the basics. How hard could it be?
What was she thinking? It was clear just minutes after taking the small day cruiser beyond the Storybrooke's sheltered little harbor that she had vastly overestimated her boating knowledge. All she'd ever done was day trips with David and Mary Margaret where she usually spent most of it sloshed on wine. She'd begged her brother for a lesson how to steer and he'd let her (before she got drunk) but was always reminding her that if she really wanted to know, she should take a class or two. Now she was regretting not listening to him. Still, luck must have been on her side somewhat as she tried to stick close enough to still see the Maine shoreline and follow the map and compass on her phone northward. And most importantly, she was making good time. She'd better, considering that she'd given quite the performance in order to get this boat in the first place.
The Giant's Lair was small—the type of cruiser tourists took out for the day to go fishing and look for dolphins-but easily made up for it by cutting through the rough waters with ease. However, the further she went, the rougher the ocean swells grew until she was forced to focus all her attention on keeping the boat from capsizing. And this was the reason she managed to not notice the approaching island until it was far too late.
To her credit, the island was tiny, probably only a few thousand square feet, with a weather-worn rock beach surrounding a plateau of pine trees that had somehow survived the fierce ocean weather just off the coast. It barely showed up on the horizon as anything more than a grey blob until it was already too close. But what she'd also failed to notice was the long sandbar that snaked out from the island until she jerked forward and toppled to the deck of her boat, her cruising brought to an jarring and abrupt end. There was a moment of panic while the crunchy grinding noise of a boat grounding into the shore rang in her ears before reality hit.
Picking herself up from where she'd been thrown forward and wincing at her bruised knees, she shouted several curses to the sky before taking stock of her situation. The front end of the boat was lifted high, clearly breached on the shore, and unless a giant wave came and washed it away, was going nowhere fast. Thankfully, there were no visible gashes or tears in the hull that she could see. So maybe it wasn't so bad. Like a car getting stuck in a deep mud puddle, she would just need a tow of some sort to get back into the water. Off far to the west she could make out the dark line of the coast, but knew without question it was too far to swim for it.
Immediately, she took out her cell phone, bracing herself for the call to David, only to find that she must have left the compass app running and that it had drained her battery. That left the yacht's radio, an monstrously elaborate concoction of dials and LED lights that literally looked like the panel in an aircraft cockpit. She wasn't even sure how to turn the thing ON, much less how to signal anyone for help. Still, what choice did she really have? She began pressing things, shouting SOS into the microphone at random, and praying that someone might pick up. A few times, some of the lights flashed, but a loud wailing beep made her throw the receiver away in anger and frustration.
It was time to face the facts. She was stuck. And unless some passing ship happened to see her out here stranded, she wasn't going anywhere. But maybe that was the solution. Half-remembered survival skills floated around in her brain and she thought perhaps she might be able to light some sort of signal fire. Of course, she didn't have a lighter or anything, but surely she could get some of the dead brush to light with a couple of rocks or something. How hard could it be?
In a huff, she kicked the ladder down and climbed it, dropping on the rocky beach with a thud. It wasn't even a nice, sandy beach. Nope. It was just pebbles and large boulders; the type that made walking over nearly impossible. Looking over the bottom hull, she saw the scraped paint and twists of metal, but nothing too horrible. Still, she was pretty sure the rental agreement she barely glanced at said she was totally responsible for any damage she accrued.
Oh god, she was in soooo much trouble.
Scrambling over the beach towards the brush and tree-covered plateau, her thoughts began to circle and the guilt in her stomach increased ten-fold. As bad as she felt about the damaged boat, she felt a hundred times worse about the kids she was supposed to be helping. There was no way she'd be able to track Teach now. Though, now that she was being honest, her idea was a long shot to begin with. There had probably been a much better way to trace him electronically or whatever that hadn't even occurred to her. No, she just had to rush head-long into trying to catch up to him on a boat she barely knew how to pilot, to a location she knew nothing about and hope that the kids were with him and that she could…what? Take him on all by herself? Play the hero?
God, she was an idiot! Why did David call her in on this? She was absolutely useless. A failure and a disappointment. Always a disappointment.
And just like that, everything she pushed away from that morning—thoughts about her childhood, her past with Neal—came rushing back. It was so overpowering, she felt the strength drain out of her. In a collapsed pile, she leaned over the edge of a boulder that jutted out over the sea, and watched as her tears were carried away by the surf.
Why even bother lighting a rescue fire? Who would want to rescue her? She wasn't worth it. She had never been worth it. Not to her parents, not to Neal. Not even to her child.
Before she could block them, memories of that day in the prison hospital, the day she did her best to try to never remember, played out anyway. The empty, hopeless feeling after they told her that the child she didn't even know she was carrying didn't survive. Then, the absolute despair she felt when she found out that she would never be capable of carrying a child to term, if she could even get pregnant at all, that was. And what did it matter? The only man she ever loved had left her to rot for his crimes. That day, Emma decided that she must be destined to always be alone, to never be enough. That day, she walled away her heart and built her walls up impossibly high, because no man was ever going to be worth the risk again.
"You alright, lass?"
Emma startled, nearly falling off her rocky perch, looking down through tear-blurred eyes at a dark figure standing just below her on the shore.
"Where the fuck did you come from?" She shouted, looking quickly around for his boat that must have pulled up on the other end of the island while she was sobbing her eyes out. She hoped he didn't notice her dashing away the traces of tears, but was secretly so relieved at being found, she didn't care if she was snotty and red-eyed. And then she looked at him.
Oh no.
This was no passing boater or Coast Guard officer. This guy looked like he just stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. He had a sharply angled jawline hidden under dark, reddish-brown scruff, sun-kissed skin that gave his cheeks a rosy glow, and thick, dark locks that kept dancing in the wind. His eyes were framed by long lashes and focused intently on her. His bare, toned chest was thatched with more dark hair, the same hair lightly covering a pair of equally well-toned legs and arms, with one arm that ended at a scarred-over wrist, which he seemed to be trying to keep hidden behind his towel.
Only it wasn't a towel, exactly.
Despite his bodily attractiveness, she was more drawn to what he was wearing. It seemed like he had on some kind of bluish-grey fur, which, okay, was a pretty odd thing to wear swimming. Something was not right. And just where was his ship? Or his board? And if he did swim here—which she doubted-why wasn't he wet? She could still see the whole of the island, and there was nothing. How the hell did he get here?
"I get a distress call from a fair maiden and I'm on the spot," he answered merrily, swaying towards her in a clear attempt to be seductive. She instinctively flinched back and his teasing grin dropped into a frown. "Lass?"
Actually now that she was thinking about it, there was something about his presence that was making her feel completely off-kilter, like she wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes, even from this distance, were of such a crystalline blue that they were almost glowing. He was definitely not normal, even if he was easily the hottest guy she'd ever seen.
"I'm not distressed," she told him, despite the obvious lie. She just needed a moment to figure him out. Her instincts were all over the map with him, telling her he was both safe and dangerous. She was still trying to figure out where he came from and what he meant. Had she called him? Had a message gotten through on the radio without her realizing it. On one hand, it meant she was rescued and in enough time to go after Teach again. On the other, she wasn't sure if rescuing her was really his intent. The way he kept leering, she'd say his intent was a bit more carnal. Still, she needed out of here and she needed to help those kids. If this was her only option, she'd have to take it. She'd just have to be on her guard around him and not give him any encouragement that he could find what he was after from her. In the meantime, she scanned the area for any sort of weapon she could use, spotting a sharp rock just a few feet away.
"I beg to differ, milady. Why else would you be shedding your tears into the sea to call on me?" The man gestured with his good hand skeptically and stepped closer, causing her hackles to rise even further.
Anger and embarrassment warred within her. She growled, "Look, even if I did call you, it wasn't on purpose and it certainly wasn't for a booty call. And my tears are none of your business."
He rocked back at her tone, holding a hand up to indicate his concession. "Alright, alright. Point taken. If you don't want to share your burdens, there's no need. I'm sure I can offer you the relief you need without any personal details," the man replied, flicking his tongue out to lick his lips. She was fairly certain it was meant to be a come-on, but to her, it just came across as a turn-off.
"Yeah, nope. Not happening," she told him, bracing herself to run after that rock and strike him with it. "I need you to go away."
"Go away?" He asked, puzzled but with a tint of anger. "This is my home, you came to me!"
"Came to you! Right. Like I got myself shipwrecked on purpose because I just wanted a random hook up? Keep dream, pal!"
"Shipwrecked?" He asked, his eyes widening as he turned to look back at the boat on the shore and at her. She expected him to laugh, to grow cocky about how she was at his mercy. Instead, he furrowed his brow and asked, "Is that why you were crying?"
"No," she answered automatically, hating the genuinely curious look he gave her in response, and especially hating that her first impulse was to blurt out exactly what she had been crying about.
Again, he shook his head, giving her a tight grin. "Right. None of my business."
Damn right, she thought, crossing her arms.
He gave her a more genuine smile at that, and she felt unexpectedly warmed by it. There was still something very odd about him, but all of a sudden, she didn't feel so frightened of him. If he wanted to hurt her or to take advantage, he had all the opportunity he needed. Instead, he seemed to be simply concerned about her. It was…unusual. So this time, when he took a step forward, she didn't flinch back.
"I think perhaps there's been a misunderstanding, lass. Why don't you come down and I'll see what I can do to help you get your ship back to shore." With a slight bow, he moved away allowing her plenty of space to descend the rocks and go straight to the boat. It was a small gesture, but significant, and she decided that maybe she could take a chance that he could help after all.
But just a small chance.
"Fine," she said. As she walked down the outcropping, she bent to retrieve the sharp stone, hefting it in her hand, letting him read the warning in the eyes. "Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."
"I would despair if you did," he muttered, smirking back at her.
Stepping far enough around him to keep him in her peripherals, she motioned that he should lead the way. She didn't want him where she couldn't see him and he didn't seem to mind leading her over the beach. Though it wasn't a far hike, she felt her mind drift to other matters. It was getting late, the sun creating golden orange streaks across the waves. The lead Teach had with the kids was growing by the minute and her hope of catching him was all but gone. At best, she'd have to head back to Storybrooke and explain to David and Mr. Tillman what had happened, locate Teach the hard way, hope the kids were still safe, and live with the knowledge that her rash decision meant she'd lost her chance at rescuing those kids. At worst, she have to endure a lecture from her brother about how dangerous her actions were and how he regretted asking her to take the case, how he regretted being her brother. That was her deepest fear. Even though her rational mind knew it wasn't true, a small part of her would probably always expect that someday she'd push David too far and he'd tell her she was no longer his family. Then she'd truly have no one.
Maybe she should just stay here and never go back. At least she wouldn't be alone, since this guy said he lived there.
"How is this your home?" She asked, stopping abruptly in the sand.
Freezing like a statue, the man straightened before turning around to look at her. Unexpectedly, he frowned and looked out across the water, his bright eyes darkening with some sort of private pain. "How is that any of your business?" He quipped pointedly, throwing her words back at him.
"Fine," she conceded. Maybe he did surf out here, then. Maybe it was like his private little island and she had crashed into it. It would explain a few things and she could definitely understand the appeal. It was beautiful and secluded, unbothered by humanity. Now that she wasn't in such dire circumstances, she took a moment to really take it all in. The little trees, though weather-worn and scraggly, held a hidden toughness and endurance she admired. The stones themselves were a mix of sharp jagged edges and smooth, caused no doubt by the constant lapping of the water. Very pretty and poetic in their own way. The waves and ocean surrounding her were calm and gentle, the soft whoosh as they approached and receded the only real sound on the island.
Just like the man in front of her. A mix of contradictions.
Following the awkward pause, she started walking again, passing him by as he stood rooted in the sand. She reached the grounded boat and stared at how deeply sunk-in the hull of the boat was and wondered for the first time how exactly he planned on helping her. It wasn't like they had the strength-even between the two of them—to push the ship back into the water.
"Looks like she's well and truly stuck, lass," he replied, approaching slowly.
"I know, genius," she replied with no real heat. "Do you know how to operate the radio? If I could get a call out to the Coast Guard or even my brother, I'm sure they can un-stick it."
He laughed at her choice of words, but shook his head. "No need. I can free her."
She turned and rolled her eyes at him. "Okay, macho man. I might not know everything about boats, but I know you can't just push it back into the water. No one's that strong." Though she didn't mean it to be a criticism, she noticed the way he suddenly tucked the blunted arm behind him again, and hated that she had embarrassed him. She was very familiar with being treated as worthless because of who you were. It was like that when people found out she was an orphan. No one should have to feel that sort of pain. She made a mental note to be more careful about what she said around him.
"I don't plan on pushing, love. I can use my magic," he answered curtly.
Magic. He had to be joking. Maybe her earlier assessment that something was off with him was right. He was deranged, crazy hermit who lived alone on an island and thought he had magic. Probably talked to the fishes, too. Wasn't this just super fucking fantasic.
Feeling like the universe had it out for her, Emma threw up her hands. "Sure, buddy. In the meantime, I'll just signal my unicorn and wait over there for you to finish," she snapped, pointing away to the rocks she had just left. She was better off alone, she thought as she stormed away.
The man called after her, "I assure you, I'm quite serious."
"Magic isn't real, pal," she yelled back, swiveling around and aching for a fight.
She opened her mouth to give him a full 'There's No Such Thing as Magic' TED Talk, but was interrupted suddenly. "It's Killian, actually."
There was a hint of genuine hurt in his eyes, but she ignored it-and the guilty feeling low in her belly. No matter what she might feel, she was stuck here while those kids were in danger and entertaining some crazy's idea of a joke was just one step too far. "Whoever you are, still doesn't change the fact that magic doesn't exist. And you can call me Emma instead of 'lass' or 'love' or whatever cutesy names I'm sure you like to use on all the fair ladies," she added, even including a horrible imitation of his accent.
Oddly, her behavior only seemed to amuse him and instead of arguing or retreating, and he gave her an indulgent smile that did not make her chest feel warm. "Are you really so certain?"
Magic? Real? Her experiences of the world had only confirmed to her over and over that magic and miracles definitely did not exist. "Oh yeah. Very."
His eyes flickered over her at that, but he merely sighed in response. "Well, I beg to defer. But I suppose a demonstration is needed to convince you, eh, Emma?"
She shrugged. "Knock yourself out, Killian."
The blue in his eyes brightened again at her use of his name, but she did her best to ignore it, focusing instead on what she was going to do to get off this island now that she knew her rescuer was going to not be of any real help. In fact, she was so focused, that she barely paid him any attention as he walked to the edge of the beach where sea met land. Standing there, chest puffed out, feet sinking into the sand, he made a gesture with his hand. It appeared to be something between a wave and making a fist, and she looked up just in time for a solid column of water, about a foot wide to go shooting straight up into the sky.
"Holy shit!" She yelped, her whole body trembling.
That wasn't-
It couldn't be-
Killian turned and gave her a smirk. "Believe me now?"
"No!" Did he have secret jets hidden under the beach or something? Was she being pranked this whole time? She ran to the edge of the water and looked down into the foaming surf but couldn't tell if there was anything mechanical down there that could shoot up a spray of water. "Do it again!" She demanded.
He chuckled, but obliged, moving the fingers of his good hand in the same movement. Again, a solid column of water rose up, this time lingering in midair and bending into a series of curves that vaguely resembled a shape.
Not a shape…her face.
Emma collapsed to her knees, oblivious to the pain and dampness soaking through her jeans. She was unable to stop trembling. There was just no way. No way. The water face melted back into a blob before straightening out into a column again. Only this time, it bent smoothly and headed straight toward her, stopping and hovering just inches from her face, morphing into an exact copy of her boat riding the waves. Riding and then crashing, apparently. She knew he'd done it on purpose to taunt her, and normally she'd give him hell for it, but at the moment she was a bit preoccupied with not freaking the fuck out. It was like that scene in The Abyss come to life. Except it was real. And right in front of her.
Needing to absolutely certain this wasn't some sort of elaborate hoax, she reached out her hand, her fingers dipping into the seawater. The cold water was like a shock to her system, solidifying that what she was seeing wasn't just a hallucination. "That's—"
"Magic, love," Killian replied gently, bending down so that he was crouched next to her, eyes never leaving her face. She turned from the water to look at him, and was overwhelmed by his nearness and by the vivid, unnatural sea-blue of his eyes. It hit her then, like a tidal wave, that whoever or whatever Killian was, he wasn't human.
An itching began to creep up under her skin and all of a sudden, she couldn't breathe, couldn't look at him. She needed air, she needed space. So, she ran.
Jumping up without warning, she took off for the boat, scrambling up the ladder, barely remembering to pull it up after her, and collapsed into a heap on the deck. She nestled herself back into a space between the seats and the rail on the deck, and willed for it all to just be a bad dream.
She had no idea how long she sat there, knees tucked up under her chin, her mind flickering through all that she had seen, trying to find some sort of flaw, some sort of way for it to not be true, but unable to find one. Eventually, though, she did calm down, and when she did her mind began to race with a new set of questions. What was Killian? How did he do that with the water? What had happened to his hand? Why did he live out here all alone? Why did his sadness seem so familiar?
"Lass, er…Emma!" His voice called out from below. "Are you alright?"
She chuckled to herself. No, she wasn't alright. Her entire worldview had just been upended. But she was calm enough to accept what she had seen.
Not to mention the thought that she still had a job to do kept her somewhat grounded. Those kids were still in trouble and if there was still a chance that she could get out of here—even if it meant swallowing her pride and getting magical help—maybe she could still find some way to help them.
"I'm getting there," she answered, standing up and looking down over the side of the ship, "but I have some questions for you."
"And I'll be happy to answer them." His hand darted up to scratch at his ear, fingers gesturing toward the boat. "Do you want me to come up there? Or would you prefer to come down?"
In lieu of an answer, Emma kicked over the ladder and Killian made quick work climbing up, his black eyebrows emerging first as he peeked up over the rail. His uncertainty turned to a grin when he saw her, apparently pleased that she didn't seem like she was going to either stab him with something sharp or start screaming at him.
"So," she started, unsure how to start.
"So," he answered, amused.
"You have magic."
"Aye."
"How?"
"I was born with it."
She licked her lips, nerves rattling her as she asked the question she was most curious about. "Are you human?"
He raised a brow at that, but shook his head slowly. "No, I'm not."
"Then, what are you?"
"I'm a selkie, love."
A what now? She couldn't help but scrunch up her face in confusion. "A silky? Isn't that like where you dress up like rabbits or teddy bears and have sex in public or something?"
The look he gave her was an adorable mix of confusion and disgust. "What?"
"What," she answered defensively, though she was trying to keep herself from grinning at him. "I saw it on Buzzfeed."
After a moment of glaring at her, he rolled his eyes and told her, "A selkie is a creature that is half-human, half-seal. We were created when your ancestors were first beginning to explore the oceans and the ancient sea gods thought that if they helped strengthen the relationship between humans and the sea, the world would be better off. It was a bloody ill-conceived notion, if you ask me."
"Why's that?"
His jaw clenching, he turned his darkened eyes towards the horizon, clearly lost in some personal pain. "Well, for starters, the ancient gods, not fully understanding human lust and greed gave selkie males the compulsory desire to please human females far beyond what their human lovers could accomplish, and gave selkie females the same compulsory desire to please human males. I suppose they thought humans would be grateful and would reciprocate by offering them great sacrifices or some such nonsense. Apparently, they'd never heard the term 'jealous lover' before."
It was far too easy for Emma to picture exactly how bad things could go, and she grimaced.
Killian continued, though Emma noticed that his fist was clenched tightly now in anger. "To make matters worse, selkies are bound by the sea magic contained in their pelts. I suppose it was to prevent us from simply remaining on land and living as human, and they couldn't allow that."
"Why not? It's not like life on land's all it's cracked up to be." She could see how frustrating it would be to not be able to have a choice over your own life. Was that why he was so angry?
"Aye. Still, some of us do find reasons to stay." He looked at her, face softening a bit, but darkness remaining in his eyes. "However, we were meant to be the caretakers of the oceans, Emma. Without us and our magic, life in the seas would cease to exist. Therefore, certain rules must be obeyed."
"Like what?"
He swallowed and shook his head slightly, giving her an apologetic look that meant she was prying a little too deep. "I've no wish to discuss it at present, suffice it to say that I make it a point to never let my seal-skin from my sight."
Not wanting him to keep that pained look in his eyes any longer, she tried to change the subject. "So the towel you're wearing is actually your seal skin?"
His mouth dropped open in shock, but the way his eyes sparkled told her that he wasn't nearly as offended as he seemed. "Are you referring to my pelt as a towel, love?"
"Can you show me, then? Turn into a seal, I mean?" She hadn't really meant to ask it, it did seem sort of personal, maybe like asking someone to get nude in front of a stranger, but she was too curious about the whole process not to.
Thankfully, on this, he didn't seem overly offended. "Afraid not, lass. Part of those rules I mentioned forbids the transformation from seal to human to be observed by human eyes."
"Oh. Sorry I asked, then."
He gave her a small grin. "No need to apologize, Emma, though if your interested, there are plenty of other things I'd be happy to show you." He waggled his eyebrows and she reached over to slap him in the arm.
"Why don't you show me how you plan on 'magic'ing this boat out of here?" Her humor left her as she remembered that somewhere there were two scared little kids that needed her and here she was flirting. "There was something important I was trying to do. I guess I just didn't realize that steering a boat wasn't as easy as it looked."
Giving her a curious look, Killian turned his palm upward and she leaned over the side to see what he was doing. Gently, water began to rise around the hull of the boat until it began to float buoyantly on it's own. When it didn't sink, she turned to him, nearly laughing with relief, but he was still watching her with a quiet sort of intensity.
"Do you mind me asking what you were doing before you piloted yourself onto my little island?" He asked.
"I'm a private investigator and I was trying to track down a ship called Queenie's Revenge. I believe the captain, an awful man called Teach, kidnapped a couple children. I was hoping to track them and somehow get them to safety. I know how idiotic it sounds, trying to find locate a random boat in the middle of the ocean and then somehow manage to get the kids away. Truthfully, I didn't really think about what was going to happen. I think I just liked the idea of being a hero and I just…I just didn't want the kids to get hurt."
He sat back at that, stunned. After a moment, he replied with an almost whispered, "It's not idiotic, love. You just didn't want them to feel abandoned like you were."
Her heart jumped in response, all her walls slamming back into place. How could he have known that? "What makes you think I was abandoned?"
There was something self-depreciating in his posture, and a deep familiar sadness in his smile. "There's a look in you eye that you get when you've been left all alone." A waver in his voice told her the rest. He'd been left, too. She wondered if his story was anything like hers. Seeing as how he lived alone on a deserted island, she had a feeling it was uncomfortably similar.
Suddenly, his demeanor shifted, some sort of decision made. "I know I have no place asking this, but if you'd permit me, Emma, I'd like to help you save those kids."
"You want to help me?" She couldn't help but sound suspicious. She wasn't use to anyone volunteering to help her.
He shrugged, running his fingers through the dark locks behind his ear again. "I believe your quest to be a noble one. And, as you said, you could use a better plan than trying to go after this Teach fellow single-handedly, not that I doubt you could handle yourself."
It took a minute for the offer to sink in. Though she still wasn't certain she could trust him, she really could use the help. Especially, since she had already seen what trying to do everything on her own accomplished. And he hadn't lied to her about anything so far. "Well, I guess having a little magic on my side couldn't hurt." Still, she knew better than to trust that he was doing this for purely honorable reasons. "What do you want in return?"
His jaw clenched and she knew she had pegged him right. There was something he wanted. "Beyond rescuing a damsel in distress and a couple of kiddos? I suppose…" he trailed off, as if worried about what she would think of his request. She wondered if he would demand a more physical type of reward, though even with the flirting, he didn't really seem the type. A small voice also told her that it might not be such a bad price to pay.
"You said you investigate things for a living?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"Could you help me locate something?"
"What?"
His eyes deepened and his held out the arm with the missing appendage freely for the first time. "My hand. Or rather, my fin," he spat, staring at his wrist like it disgusted him. "It was taken many years ago by a man who wished to use my pelt as a source of magic. He's since passed, but I have no idea what happened to it and I'd like to have it back."
Someone took his hand for his magic? That was horrible, and she could easily understand the raw anger lacing his words. "Are you certain it's still out there?"
He nodded. "I'm… connected to it. I can feel it. I just don't know where it is or who might have it in their possession."
Everything in her wanted to reach out and comfort him, to take his wrist in her hand and soothe away the rawness of the pain. But it was too much and they were barely anything but acquaintances at this point. And that was all she could allow them to ever be because she had a feeling—one born from the deep connectedness she could already feel pulsing between them-that if she let him in, he might break her more than even Neal had. Besides, what kind of relationship could they have anyway? She was human, he lived in the sea. He just told her he was always drawn back to it. There was no way that ended well.
Instead, she stayed still and offered him what she could. "You help me rescue the kids, and I'll do what I can to help you, Killian."
His eyes lit up, burning blue. "That's all I ask, Emma." He stayed there for a moment, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but heavy. Suddenly, he blinked and he let himself smile again, let the anger and sadness pass over. It was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds. With a smirk, he asked, "Now, let's get your heart racing, shall we?"
She rolled her eyes indulgently, but a smile spread out on her lips as she watched him hold his hand out over the water. At the gesture, the boat lurched forward so suddenly, she nearly stumbled in her seat. Her hair whipped out around her in a frenzy, the water spraying her face. She had no idea how he was making the boat zoom along so fast, especially since the motor wasn't even on. After a moment of watching the keel of the boat slice through the water, she turned around to look at Killian who was leaning against the wheel like he was born to it. She gave him a smile, wide and true, which he returned.
A warmth spread through her as she looked out over the vast blue ocean, the sun just hovering near the horizon, and she found herself thinking about the way this strange seal-man kept making her feel. It was a feeling she had a hard time placing, one that had been unfamiliar to her for a long time. Watching him there, like some sort of pirate god, the feeling just kept growing. It started with a flutter in her stomach, then a tightness in her chest, followed by her hands tingling as they clenched at her seat. It felt like excitement. And it also felt a lot like happiness.