Complete Synopsis: David 'Charming' Nolan is one of the best detectives in Storybrooke, sharing the title with his best friend and partner, Lance 'Lancelot' Knight. However, in a bust gone wrong, Det. Knight loses his life, and David hasn't been the same since.
Enter rookie hotshot, Killian 'Hook' Jones, straight from Boston P.D. He transferred for the chance to take down the man that cost him the love of his life, and his trigger finger. But first, he's gotta fight the "charming" Det. Nolan for his right to even stay in Storybrooke.
Further complications arise in the forms of the tyrannical Mayor Mills and her corrupt politician mother, organized crime boss and part-time loan shark Mr. Gold, the mysterious P.I. Swan, and David's–recently released from prison–daughter, Emma, whom Jones knows full well he's better off not even THINKING about looking at.
TL;DR: Born from the numerous jokes about Charming and Hook being in a 80s cop show, I did the natural thing: decided to write a (potentially rather inaccurate) crime drama starring our favorite duo (for NaNoWriMo, no less), and inserted some Captain Swan for kicks.
Warnings: Inconsistent tenses, mood whiplash (though not necessarily in the same chapter), alternative character interpretations, amateur writing, unbetaed, inconsistent updating (although, if you're familiar with me, that's no surprise), my own inability to take most things seriously, and above all, not canon compliant–because this is an AU, and I do what I want.
Disclaimer: I do not own a TV show, I do not own this TV show, I do not own Once Upon A Time, and this is a poor excuse of a Dr. Seuss rhyme.
"C'mon, Lance, don't do this to me, buddy."
The bald man smothered a body-wracking cough, more blood filling his mouth. "Sorry, Prince Charming." He winces as his body seizes and tries to cover it with a smile. "Tell Snow I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."
The blonde tried to return his smile, even as the tears poured down his face. "Tell her yourself."
His friend doesn't respond. His eyes are closed.
"Lance?" He tries to jostle him awake. "Lancelot?" He shakes him. "LANCE!"
He could hear the sirens now. But they're too late.
The young man slips into the warehouse, keeping an eye out for any witnesses as he shuts the door. With a grin, he makes his way further inside, eager to see her.
"Milah, everything's ready, I've got the passports, the tickets, and even got a place set up for you to stay right on the bea-"
"KILLIAN, GET OUT OF HERE!"
His blood feels like it's become ice. He pulls out his gun and rushes towards where her voice came, only to skid to a halt at the sight of her bound to one of the barrels, a bomb strapped to her chest.
"Ah, Detective Jones. I was wondering when you'd get here," comes another voice, distorted as only one can when on speaker phone. The man eyes the phone resting on his lover's lap with rage and terror in equal measures.
"Gold," he growls. "Are you really such a coward that would stoop to THIS?" the snarl echoes throughout the warehouse.
The other voice doesn't show a sign of being perturbed in the slightest. "'This' is how I deal with traitors, Detective Jones. She should've known better." The voice goes lower. "As should you have."
The woman's eyes widen in horror. "RUN! KILLIAN, RUN!"
"10," the voice on the phone begins to count.
The detective holsters his gun and rushes to her, trying to figure out how to get her free. "Just keep calm, Milah. Everything's going to be okay." He starts to tug at the ropes. "Just gotta get you out of this, and we'll leave together."
"9."
"There's not enough time! Hurry and save yourself!" she begs.
"8."
He shakes his head and looks her in the eyes. "Not without you!"
"7."
One of her arms is free, and she brings up her hand to cup his face gently. Tears are in her eyes as she smiles at him. "You must."
"6." The voice sounds just a touch more gleeful than before.
"Don't let it all be for nothing," she quietly begs of him, voice choked with emotion.
"5!"
He clenches his fists helplessly and bows his head.
"4!"
Heart in his throat, he nods his head quickly, presses a hard kiss to her mouth, and runs. Like a coward.
"3!" The beginnings of a giggle can be heard in the wretched voice now.
He slides around the corner, feet losing traction on the smooth concrete.
"2!"
The doors are in sight, but he's not going to make it. He notices a group of large, concrete cylinders and dives into one.
"1!"
And his whole world explodes.