He tosses and turns long after she has fallen asleep, soft body curled near to his chest as her tiring fingers slowly cease their tracing along his many scars—hand settling heavy around his forearm and breathing slowing to a steady, deep pace.
Her body is warm against his and he hates to disrupt her—so relaxed in the sleep she desperately needs.
But his wandering mind leads his thoughts steadily to the young woman whose life he ruined, and he is sure he deserves the pounding, torturous reminder of who he really is.
He does not deserve to have her believe so firmly in him.
He does not deserve her at all.
"Why're you still up?"
She shifts minutely in his arms, lifting her head to press her cheek to the bare skin of his shoulder. Her voice is heavy with sleep, bright eyes peering concerned at up at him through the darkness of his room.
Through the darkness of him.
"I've only just woken."
Her fingers are drifting groggily back to life, beginning again their sleepy tracing of the scars that line his wrist.
"What did I say about lying, Killian."
He swallows.
"Is it about her?"
Her eyes are soft and pleading and verging on pitying and he breathes out slowly.
"Aye."
Converse to anything he might expect, she moves her body closer, more firmly against his.
"History," she murmurs, pressing her lips light to his shoulder. "I would tell you if it bothered me. And it doesn't. You could try trusting me, too."
He feels her lips twitch against his skin, playing at a weak smile, and he finds her hip beneath the sheets, brushing across her with the pad of his thumb until he finds her spine and can play his fingers lovingly along.
"How do you manage to see the best in someone when their entire life hasn't a good bit in it?" He finally asks in a breath, clenching his teeth tight behind the words.
She does not answer at first, eyes fixed on his chest as she circles an old sparring wound with her gentle fingertips, sending pleasant tingles throughout his body.
When she finally peers up at him, it is with a meekness deep in the green of her eyes that is unfamiliar to him.
"How do you, captain?"
He knows they are no longer talking about him and his heart pangs hard in his chest against the delicate circling of her fingers. He frees his hand from the sheets to grasp at her chin and run through her tangled hair.
"You've not a dark bone in your body, savior."
"What makes you so sure?"
A soft smile tugs at his lips and he presses them to her forehead.
"None but a bloody saint could love me, darling."
Her lips are tugged into the barest of frowns when he pulls away.
"You should try to look at the best in yourself sometime too, Killian."
—
It is not pretty in the diner. Secrets spilling and her eyes widening and he can practically feel her heart shatter in the way she looks at her parents, biting her lip and cocking her head just slightly, fighting clearly against the wetness that has suddenly filled the green of her eyes.
"You… lied to me."
She is gone in a flash of red leather and blonde tresses, with a tear just beginning to make it's way down her cheek.
He goes after her without a second thought.
He finds her at the docks, back turned and soft locks tousling in the easy salt-kissed breeze.
"Why did you follow me?"
She does not turn around and he can hear a quiver in her voice that makes his chest ache.
"Didn't suppose it would be very boyfriend-like of me to let you off on your own."
She tenses when he touches his hand to her shoulder.
"Alright, love?"
She shrugs him off, and he curls his fingers cold to his chest.
"Yes."
"What was it you said about lying, again?"
She turns slowly to face him, tears staining her cheeks. He longs to reach for her, to wipe them away one by one— but she has already brushed him off once and he is not sure he can take it again.
The air between them feels ice cold, and her eyes are no warmer.
"They didn't tell me."
Her words hang dead between them and he clenches his teeth tight together because there is nothing he can say or do to counter it.
The way her throat bobs and her eyes fall assure him that she knows.
"They thought if I knew…" Her voice trails, and she is studying his feet closely, lips a firm line— her only barricade against the tears that still press at her. "They think I'm capable of darkness, Killian."
He cannot stop himself this time when a sob shakes through her, stepping forward and looping his hook around her waist to pull her against him, hand going to rub reassuring circles into her back.
"You aren't though, Swan. You aren't. Is that not what matters?"
He mutters the words soft into the hair that curtains down her neck, and she presses herself nearer to him.
"I never knew I had the choice."
The revelation is heavy and daunting and for just a moment, her shoulders stop quaking.
He tightens his hold around her waist, holding her precariously along what he can only imagine as a sharp, reaching edge.
"Now you do," he pauses, lifting his head from her shoulder and brushing a faint kiss along a cheek before meeting her eyes. "What are you thinking, love?"
Her mask falters just a moment, weakness pressing through her glistening eyes.
"How can you still look at me like that?"
Her eyes train carefully in on him, reading his every twitch like words on a page. He slows the gentle rub of his thumb at her back.
"How is that?"
She lets a frustrated breath leave her lips as she stares into the distance, before looking back to him.
"Like I hang the stars, Killian. You have never looked at me any other goddamn way. I was holding a dagger to your throat and I swear to God, you looked at me like it was your pleasure to have the honor of being there."
She is frustrated and her muscles have grown tense beneath his touch, but somehow a smile tugs weakly at his lips.
"I made you a promise, Swan. That I would always see the best in you."
She huffs, eyes trailing away before he lets his hold around her back go entirely, reaching to thumb her chin softly back so her eyes meet his, twisting his fingers into the golden strands that fall at her shoulders.
"You should try to look at the best in yourself sometime, too."