What This Family Does
When he's finally back in their home, weariness settles into his bones as he sinks on the couch.
Staring into the fire that's crackling against the crispy cold outside, his mind starts to drift, and he thinks back to the moment he was about to burn the dreamcatcher with his awful memories. Without even noticing, Killian runs his hand over his face and sighs.
David didn't murder him, not even punch him in the face, on the contrary – he showed what looked like genuine relief, maybe even joy when he finally managed to return to Storybrooke, the bloody Crocodile's offspring's curse broken. But he knows there will come the moment – sooner than later, probably – when they'll have to have a serious talk about the disastrous events that took place all those years ago, in that night he ran his vicious blade through a completely innocent man and destroyed yet another family. In fact, destroying families and orphaning guiltless children seems to be his specialty.
But... he reminds himself that this is in the past, and he has finally made his peace with the fact that his past doesn't define him. What does define him are his actions and his choices, the man he is now: the man who managed to defy the darkness of Excalibur, the man who stands up for his loved ones, the man who helps justice to be done, curses to be broken and families and lovers to find each other again. The man he is now – he knows and accepts it, that man deserves love, he deserves trust and he deserves a happy ending. And if he has to work a little harder for that, then he'll do it. He'll do whatever it takes to set things right with David, his best friend aside from Emma, and he'll do what he must to prove himself to her, show her that he does have trust in her and their love. He can only hope that it is enough to make her believe in him again and trust in their relationship enough to make her want to be his wife.
Emma is no less tired; fighting murderous creatures that looked like a hybrid of Aragog and the monster from Stephen King's It takes its toll, even on the Savior, and that was just the beginning of yet another exhausting quest. At its end, she got her pirate back, of course, and that made it all worthwhile, but still – right now, she craves nothing more than to drape him on their bed, under the heavy winter blankets, and curl up like a ball against his side, his comforting warmth and familiar scent lulling her into a much needed sleep.
When she finds him, she watches him quietly for a moment, sitting in front of the fire, lost in thought. The set of his shoulders is firm, and from behind she can't really tell if it's more determined or tense. She hopes for the first, even though she doesn't know what that determination would be aimed at. Anyway, remembering the last time she found him here, staring into the fire, she can clearly imagine what he's thinking about. Her heart clenches painfully, a wave of guilt washing over her, and she thinks back to that occasion.
She has replayed that scene a thousand times in her head since she lost him, and it always left her in tears. This is the man who never abandoned her, never left her side even during those times when she'd really made it hard for him to stay. This is the man who sacrificed his former life purpose, his ship and finally his very life for her, the man who always encouraged her to believe in herself, in who she is and who she can be. The man who has always said and done the right thing since he'd made the deliberate decision to turn around – literally and figuratively. And then he faltered, once. And what did she do? Told him to sort out his issues by himself, turned her back on him and walked away. The moment he needed her the most to be there for him, she... well, she did abandon him in some way.
And it didn't stop there, oh no. She gave up on him, trusted one grumpy dwarf more than her own heart. Sure, she had no reason to doubt Leroy's tale – yet, she had every reason to. But unexpectedly, the long-dormant fears she'd thought long buried kicked in, and voilà, there she was again: the lost little girl who didn't matter and never thought she would, even though Killian Jones had proven her the opposite over and over again.
She shakes her head to clear it from those cobwebs of guilt – not exactly a pleasant metaphor, especially not after recent events – but they still cling to her heart like sticky, venomous jellyfish tentacles.
She draws a deep breath. "Killian?"
Almost abruptly he turns around, "Aye, love?" The concern is clearly written all over his face.
She wants nothing more than to brace the distance between them and hug him, feel him, crawl under his skin, but she just can't move, her guilt paralyzing her. "Killian," she repeats in a cracked voice, "I... I'm so sorry."
He draws his eyebrows together in a frown. "What?" Almost in rush, he gets up and hurries over to her, taking her tightly clasped hands in his and smooths out her hair with his hook, in that old familiar gesture. "Please don't," he pleads. "There's no reason for you to–"
But Emma interrupts him by shaking her head. "I'm so sorry," she repeats, "that I thought even for one second that you... just took off."
Killian scrutinizes her closely and sighs when he realizes the depth of her shame and guilt. This is eating away at her consciousness, at her self-worth, and even if that's something that hurt him for a moment, he has to admit it, of course he can't have that. Emma Swan has always encouraged him in his goodness, treated him as a hero long before he believed in himself – she doesn't deserve to drown herself in guilt now, just because she was weak and faltered once in her belief. He leads her to the couch and they sit down, facing each other. She is looking down at their joined hands, as if she can't even bear to look into his eyes.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Emma," he tells her calmly, in an attempt to soothe her. "You had all the reasons to believe that I left." If he feels the slightest reluctance about that statement, he does his best not to show it.
She snorts a bitter little laugh. "Yeah, except for one: you would never do that," she replies. "You would never have abandoned me, and I should have known that."
Killian doesn't reply, can't find the right words and just drops his gaze to their joined hands instead; what's he to say, after all? She's right – she should have known. Yet, how can he blame her?
"I promised to see the best in you," she continues, "and yet, when you needed me to, I didn't. I thought the worst." She looks directly at him now, and the pain and self-deprecation in her eyes cuts him straight to the marrow. "I failed you!"
He shakes his head and squeezes her hands. "Emma–"
"No, I did," she insists. "Yes, you should have told me the truth, should have known that I would have been there to help you get through it, the guilt you felt, the self-doubt... like you've always been there for me." He averts his eyes for a moment, trying to think of what he could say to her to make her believe that he understands, that he doesn't blame her. "But we all make mistakes," she goes on, "I mean, I kept secrets from you, too, and not even long ago, and I... I should have believed in you." She draws a deep breath. "I shouldn't have needed to hear your voice as a proof to believe you didn't abandon me."
He doesn't dare to look up now, because he's not sure what she's aiming at... granted, these things should be talked about and not simply swept under the rug, but she seems all too adamant to point out how they both have failed each other lately. He's starting to worry that she might be about to say that under those circumstances, there's no chance for them. Now that thought has never once crossed his mind, but this is Emma Swan, after all, and the latest events have proven that she obviously hasn't completely vanquished her issues. Killian braces himself for that possibility, perfectly aware that it wouldn't change anything for him – he's still determined to give her back her trust in him, in them – and if it takes years or the entire rest of his life. He is not going to give up on her or on their love, no matter what she thinks.
"So what are we going to do with that?" he asks tentatively and finally fixes his eyes on hers again, hoping to convey exactly that – that he isn't inclined to give up, ever.
And then she surprises him. "What we have is True Love." It's a simple statement, and his heart takes a jump at the determination he sees in her eyes when she speaks. "It's not easy," she continues, "in fact, it never was. But it's worth it. It's worth every second and every tear and every effort." Her fingers squeeze his tightly now, and her voice cracks a little, but she pulls herself together and firmly goes on, "So what we're gonna do is, we fight. We fight for it. Every – fucking – day." A single tear rolls down her cheek and she takes a deep breath and looks at him, the tiniest insecurity in her eyes. "If you can forgive me, that is, and if... if you still want it?"
Killian lets go of her hands and cups her face, a tiny smile finally crinkling the fine skin around his eyes. "Oh, Emma. Of course I forgive you. I've wanted nothing else since a long time ago." He wipes away the tear with the pad of his thumb, and she almost sobs with relief. It feels similar to when she heard his voice again through that shell phone: Like she can finally breathe again, and her heart has resumed beating.
She closes her eyes for a moment and leans her cheek into his palm before she looks at him again and draws a deep breath. "Look, I can't promise that it won't happen again," she tells him with disarming honesty, "that my fears won't get the better of me... but I can promise you one thing: I'm gonna fight back." She confirms that with a nod and adds, "And I'll be there for you when you need me."
He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "And I for you," he returns the promise. "And there will be no more secrets."
"No more secrets," she agrees.
He sighs. "I'll talk to your father tomorrow."
Emma nods and offers, true to the promise she just made, "I can come with you?"
He shakes his head once. "I do appreciate it, love, but that's something I have to do all by myself."
"Okay." Slowly, she rises from the couch and tentatively reaches out for him. "Are you coming to bed? I'm exhausted, but if you want to stay down here for another bit..."
"No." He smiles and takes her hand. "I think we could both use some rest."
Emma tries not to show how relieved she is; she does want to give him all the time she needs, but truth be told, she can't stand the thought of having to go to bed without him again, and even if it's only for one more time.
When they are in their bedroom, they undress quietly, but the silence isn't awkward at all. Killian is faster, as usual, and he's already in a pair of sweatpants and a henley he normally wears to bed when it's chilly outside while Emma is still fumbling with her turtleneck. When she's finally rid of it, he notices something that has him catch his breath in his throat: she's wearing the shell necklace around her neck, the pendant resting between her breasts.
She notices his gaze and blushes slightly. Cradling the shell in her hand, she explains in an almost apologetic voice, "This... it kept me sane, to hear your voice." She's rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of her feet, a sure sign for her uneasiness, and Killian knows she feels hat pang of guilt again.
Carefully, he takes the shell from her hand and removes the leather band from her neck, setting it on top of the dresser, then turns to look at her again with so much love in his eyes that it makes her heart clench. "You don't need it anymore," he tells her softly, "You have me now."
When they slip under the blankets, Emma literally wraps herself around him, so closely that it's hot and almost uncomfortable, but he lets her, perfectly aware that it's not only her attempt to feel safe again and her relief to have him back, but also her way to tell him without words that she'll never let him go again.
In spite of what transpired earlier between them, despite her exhaustion, there's still tension in her body, and Killian tries to caress soothing circles into the skin of her back and turns his head to press a kiss into her hair. Only very slowly she seems to relax a bit in his arms, and when he's just about to drift off to sleep, he feels her lips against the side of his neck, whispering his name against his skin like a prayer.
Soon he realizes that this is what they both need now – slowly, carefully get reacquainted with their bodies and souls, and so they make love gently and soothingly and with barely a sound, trying to express what their mouths have left unsaid, to heal each other's wounded hearts. What they don't leave unsaid are their softly, passionately whispered I love yous, because sometimes words do matter, and some things you just need to hear.
The next morning, after Henry has left for school and Emma makes sure one last time that Killian really doesn't want her to accompany him for support, he leaves the house and heads for the loft to talk to David. There's a heaviness in his heart, because not only is the man his True Love's closest family, but he's also his own best friend, and to have hurt him like that is nothing Killian Jones is able to brush off that easily.
Nevertheless, it has to be done, and so he draws a deep, weary breath and knocks at the door of the loft with the curve of his hook. The door is opened by Emma's mother, and as the first surprise of the day, the princess bandit smiles at him.
"Killian," she greets him warmly and waves him in invitingly, "so good to see you back. Come in." She has obviously just packed the baby in his stroller and is about to head out. "Killian is here," she throws over her shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile. "I'll leave you two for a bit," she then announces and nods her head towards the kitchen table where David is sitting in front of a steaming mug of coffee. Seeing Killian enter his home, he gets up slowly – hopefully not to throw him out, Killian thinks, at least not before he has the chance to say what he came here for.
But the next surprise follows: as soon as Snow has closed the door behind her and they are alone, David pours a second cup of coffee and sets it on the table, wordlessly gesturing for Killian to sit. He scratches behind his ear a little awkwardly and then follows the beckoning just as wordlessly.
David sits down opposite him again and opens the conversation. "So, you've really been to Agrabah?" he asks unexpectedly. "With Ariel? Must have been quite the experience."
Killian is a little taken aback and nods, not really knowing what to say to that. David looks down into his coffee and adds, "But you didn't come here to talk about that."
Killian swallows hard. "No."
Firmly, David fixes his pale blue eyes on his and replies curtly, "Good." With an almost brusque move of his hand, he prompts, "So say what you have to say, and then I'll say what I have to say."
Only a moment of silence falls between them before Killian nods and musters all his willpower to return David's gaze. "I can't change what I did, as much as I wish I could," he starts, as it seems perfectly clear that both men know exactly what he's here to talk about. Sugarcoating anything – especially his sins – has never been his tactics, so he aims right where it hurts and continues, "I murdered a good man who wanted nothing more than to get home, I ripped a family apart – your family – and caused a little boy to grow up thinking his father abandoned him."
David doesn't flinch the slightest at his words, but a tiny blink of his eyes betrays that he is indeed affected by Killian's painful words.
Killian refuses to look away. "I did that," he clarifies once more, pointing out his determination to face the consequences for his misdeeds. "I'm responsible for your pain. Nothing I could say or do can erase that." He runs his hand through his hair and tilts his head. "I know you will never again believe a word I'm saying, but I swear I didn't know that when you sought my help in finding out the truth." Almost pleadingly, he looks at David, desperately wanting him to acknowledge at least that much of honor in him, but the Prince's expression doesn't give away what he thinks. "I should have come to you immediately when I found out, but..." For the first time, his voice cracks a little, and he looks away from his mate. "... I couldn't. I couldn't look you in the eyes."
"And now you can?" David snarls.
"I have to," Killian replies without hesitation. "I'm not that vile excuse for a man anymore, and I know now that my past does not define who I am today. I've changed. Not to get Emma as a prize, but to be able to live with myself again." David probably won't believe that either, but somehow that's a particularly important issue for Killian to point out. "Today I'm the man I truly want to be, a man of honor," he continues firmly, bracing himself for David's cutting sarcasm, but no reply comes from him. So he finishes, "But I cannot be that man if I pretend I can erase who I was, I have to own up to it and face the consequences."
David seems almost detached when he asks in a flat voice, "Which are?"
Killian's head drops down, his eyes resting on his own, untouched mug now, somehow it's like he's lost all energy. "Losing your respect and your friendship," he answers in a tinny voice, because yes, that is going to hurt, "and the privilege of being welcome to your family."
David nods. "But you're still planning to marry my daughter?"
Without moving his head, Killian raises his eyes to David's; the man deserves as much. "If she can find it in her heart to trust me again, aye."
There's a long pause, David seems to weigh his words, ponder over his response. "Are you done now?" he finally asks with a stony face, and Killian averts his eyes again, swallows and nods once, part of him surprised that David even deems him worthy of an answer other than his fist finally breaking the pirate's jaw. "Then let me tell you something," David starts. "The man who murdered my father is no one I'd want anywhere near my family."
Nothing else could he have expected, Killian knows that, yes the words sting. "I understand," he replies soberly.
"But the man I've come to respect and appreciate," David continues, "as a friend... you're still that man." He pauses again, maybe to allow Killian to process his words.
Slowly, Killian raises his head again, his incredulous eyes searching David's, convinced that his ears must have deceived him. The other man's face is earnest, but not hateful or even angry. It can't be possible. And yet... Emma's words ring in his ears, They will forgive you. It's what this family does.
"As far as I'm concerned," David finally adds, "an evil king is responsible for my father's death, because he put him in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted him dead, and that's what happened." For a moment, his jaw clenches as if he's fighting some secret fight with himself, but then the moment is gone, and he tells Killian firmly, "It doesn't matter how it happened. The man who wielded the blade... he's gone. You're still here." He leans forward, as to put emphasis on his next words. "And, frankly, I'm glad about that."
For a moment, Killian is overwhelmed and has to avert his eyes. Then he smiles to himself and shakes his head in disbelief before turning back to Emma's father. "Thank you, David," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "That means... it means a lot."
David draws a deep breath and nods. "Your honesty means a lot."
For a little while, silence falls between them, but somehow it's not uncomfortable: the important things have been said, the atmosphere is cleared, and the balance between them is set right again. Killian takes a sip of his coffee, not because he really wants to, but because he feels it somehow seals the renewed bond between them. But then he has one final question, one that might be silly to even consider asking, but he just has to.
"Does that mean I still have your blessing?" he wants to know. "To ask for Emma's hand again?"
David snorts. "Whom would I fool if I said no?" he returns the question without blinking an eye. "We both know you're already part of this family."
Killian simply doesn't know how to reply to that, so he just nods and pushes back his chair to get up, now that everything has been said and done, feeling the overwhelming urge to be alone and process what just has been happening. David rises from his seat as well and wordlessly ushers him to the door, as if he understands what's going on in his mate's mind.
"Go home," he says and slaps Killian's shoulder, "Don't waste any more time."
Killian grins sheepishly and nods, scratching behind his ear without even noticing before he reaches out to open the door.
"Oh, and Hook?" David calls him back, and Killian stands rooted to the spot, throwing him a questioning glance. David smiles. "Just for the record: I always knew you'd never have abandoned Emma."
And that's it, that last statement is the straw that finally breaks the camel's back – hearing that someone, anyone never stopped believing in him. Killian turns around and hugs David without waiting for confirmation that it's okay. If Emma's father is surprised – and he probably isn't – he doesn't show it but hugs him back without hesitating, back slaps and all.
Killian finally leaves with his head humming and his heart overfull, and there's only one place for him to go when he's in that state of mind, when he needs calming, a bit of time to himself. Down by the docks the air is clean and the ocean is calm today, the horizon as endless as ever.
So, he does nothing but just sit there on the mole, recalling everything that happened since he found his way back home, to that patch of dirt that has become the center of his world now, because his family and his heart are there. From sorting things out with Emma to the talk with David, everything seems to have fallen into place, and he's just amazed about that. It really looks like a happy ending is in the cards even for someone like him, and even though it took him hundreds of years, he finally managed to find people who care about him, believe in him and support him. Love him.
All that's left for him to do now to make it all complete is give Emma the ring back and ask her again to marry him – simple enough. Simple? Well, he doesn't have any doubts about it, and there are no secrets between them any more, so there really shouldn't be a problem. Killian's also convinced that Emma doesn't have any doubts or reservations, and he knows that deep in her heart she does trust him... but then, she's still Emma Swan. He just hopes that the recent crisis hasn't scared her too much... not about her faith in him, oh no – he hopes that she trusts herself enough. That heavy guilt in her voice when she told him that she failed him... oh, he knows it all too well, that paralyzing, depressing fear of maybe not being good enough for the person you love the most... maybe she needs a little time to regain her trust in herself, that she will not fail him again. Putting her under pressure by proposing to her again right away could maybe have the opposite effect and make her shy away. On the other hand, she seemed very determined when she told him she'd fight because their love was worth it...
Suddenly, his train of thought is interrupted by Emma's voice, as if his musings have somehow summoned her. "Here you are," she addresses him tentatively, "I've been looking for you."
Without intending to, he flinches a little at her words when he turns around to face her as she walks up to him, hands buried deep in the pockets of her red coat, the grey beanie pulled down over her ears. The expression on her face is slightly anxious, and he can't help but ask himself if it will be always like that now – that she immediately starts to worry when she doesn't know where he is, because something could have happened that might have driven him away. He feels bad for having these thoughts, because it's like he's blaming her, and he's not... but damn, even the possibility hurts.
As if she's sensing his feelings, Emma raises her hands in defense. "Oh, I mean... I didn't mean..." She stumbles over her own words and interrupts herself; it's not easy to handle the aftermath of their first big misunderstanding as a couple, but hey – she's doing her damn best. She draws a deep breath. "I just thought maybe you needed to talk."
He seems to understand and smiles. "It's alright, Swan."
She sits down beside him on the breakwater. "So, how did it go?" she wants to know.
Killian tilts his head and scratches behind his ear. "Your father always manages to surprise me," he tells her a little vaguely.
"What did he say?" she wants to know.
He looks her directly in the eyes, the blue of his own reflecting the calmness of the ocean. "That the past doesn't change what we have become."
She presses her lips into a tentative smile. It sounds like the talk between her father and her True Love hasn't indeed gone bad. "And what's that?" she inquires.
"Friends," he replies and, after a pause, adds, "And family."
Her smile blooms into a wider, happy one. "He's right."
He tilts head again, and unreadable expression on his handsome face. "Not entirely, though," he contradicts.
Emma frowns at that. "What–"
"Well... we're not family," he explains, "Not yet."
She swallows and just looks at him, not knowing what to reply. Instinctively, she knows what he means, but isn't sure where he's aiming at, why he's pointing it out like that. Of course, technically, they're not family before they're not married, but... Killian is scrutinizing her intensely for a moment, and despite her resolution to not always expect the worst from any situation, her heart sinks, heavily burdened. What if in spite of his forgiveness, he's afraid that she isn't ready yet, given how she reacted the first time things got a little rocky between them? And how could she even blame him? She can't. Centuries of self-loathing and deeming himself worthless, and then she goes and seemingly confirms what he has been fearing all along – that he isn't worth believing in. His wounds aren't any less deep than hers, and if she has difficulties in overcoming her trauma, why would that be any easier for him? Oh Killian, she thinks, if only I could make you see how precious of a person you are and how much you deserve that happy ending you're denying yourself...
He gets up to stand on his feet, and automatically, Emma follows, looking at him anxiously now, unable to tear her gaze from his face. Goddammit, say something! she wants to yell at him.
He holds up his hand, and she's shocked to see the ring between his thumb and forefinger, the diamond catching the pale sunlight, multiplying it. Her jaw drops, and she stops breathing for a moment.
"I do trust you, Emma," he says, his intense gaze burning into her own, "And if you trust me, too, I need to ask you only one thing. Actually, two."
Slowly, he sinks down on his left knee, and she's still too paralyzed to perform any of the clichéd moves like pressing her hand over her mouth or her heart; her arms are dangling uselessly at her sides, and her entire focus is on the earnest face of the man kneeling before her on the pier.
"Please, take this ring back," he asks, "and let me be yours forever."
Like the first time it happened, her legs grow heavy and wobbly, but the feeling is doubled by the awareness of everything they've been through since then, of the tests their love has had to overcome – again – and what it really means for them. Did she think she knew before, now she really does know it with a clarity so pure and sharp it almost hurts, but in a good way, absurd as that may be: she knows that this is it. It's True Love, and it's forever. The realization makes it impossible for Emma to hold herself upright on her feet any longer, and so she unceremoniously drops to her knees in front of Killian, face to face and heart to heart.
Her right hand reaches for his hook and she raises her left to show him she's accepting the ring.
"I do trust you, too," she replies without hesitation, but in a slightly croaky voice betraying how emotional she is, "And I'm yours as much as you are mine."
For a moment, they are just kneeling there and facing each other without either of them speaking a word or moving as much as a single muscle. Then Killian finally slips the ring on her finger where it belongs and curls his fingers around hers, both of them slightly trembling. Simultaneously, they look at each other with awestruck, teary smiles and lean their foreheads together. After a while, kneeling on the concrete of the per becomes mighty uncomfortable, and they scramble to their feet, supporting each other and giggling like teenagers.
When Killian lets go of her hand and reaches for the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss, Emma wraps her arms around his neck and sinks into him, the last remnants of all the tension finally falling away from her.
The kiss is languid and slow, and when they finally pull apart, Emma has a playful smile on her lips.
"So, we'll really be Captain and Mrs. Jones soon?" she asks, and Killian tilts his head, his expression surprisingly serious.
"Only if you want to," he replies and, when she frowns, explains, "I've learned that in this realm a woman doesn't always take her husband's name." She smiles in understanding – of course he'd be considerate about her wishes, as he always has been – and he hastily scratches behind his ear before adding, "Although I have to admit... it would be a pleasure to this old-fashioned pirate's heart if you did."
Emma raises her eyebrows. "What, no Swan anymore?" she teases, and he snorts a little laugh.
"Oh, you know you'll always be my Swan to me," he tells her smoothly, "That's so much more than just a name. But if you..."
"Listen," she interrupts and puts her hand to his chest in a delicious gesture of casual intimacy. "None of the families I've been with ever cared enough for me to offer me their name, so I had to pick my own."
A profound melancholy washes over him, and his heart goes out to that unloved, lost little girl from a long time ago that still lives buried somewhere deep in the soul of Emma Swan. He makes a silent vow to himself to always take good care of her and make sure she won't ever feel like that again.
"Now that someone does," Emma continues with a bright smile, "I will happily accept it."
He doesn't even try to hide how happy he is about her choice. "Then Mrs. Jones it is," he nods.
A cheeky spark lights up her eyes, and with a grin she adds, "Unless, of course, you'd prefer Captain and Mrs. Hook."
"Ah well," he crunches his nose and tilts his head sheepishly, "I'd rather people forgot about that, honestly."
"Are you kidding me?" Emma shakes her head vigorously. "Not happening. How could I ever forget? Captain Hook is part of the man I fell in love with. Part of who you are now." Killian averts his eyes and smiles that embarrassed smile, he just can't help it. Emma puts her hand to his scruffy cheek, making him look at her again, and he's blown away by the honesty and sheer, unveiled love he finds in her eyes.
"Here's the thing," she says softly, "I'd wear it just as proudly."