A/N: Hey hey! So here's the first chapter. Please review. Like I said, it's AU and Killian is established in Storybrooke and Cora, well, you'll find out won't you? :P
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His legs were tiring. He usually wouldn't have tired this quickly, but then again, he usually wouldn't have taken the longest route possible to his destination. Part of him insisted that he had chosen this rarely trod path because it would allow him just a little more time, even if the girl in his arms was asleep for those spare moments. No, he told himself. That's not why. He had chosen this path because it avoided the town. Avoided the noise and the people, and any possible questions. He had to be careful not to wake her up. Despite the mild sedative he'd slipped her, he couldn't risk waking her. If she woke now, it would all be over. He could hear the protests already, and he wasn't sure he could remain resistant to her demands. Giving in to her could be his, as well as her own, undoing.
Yes, he told himself. This was the correct thing to do.
He adjusted his grip on her, freezing when this movement caused her to stir a little. He waited until she'd settled to begin climbing the wooden stairs to the tiny house at the top of the hill. He knocked on the door - quietly - with the toe of his boot. The noise alerted the family dog, which began to bark. He cursed to himself silently. To get all the way here without waking her was a feat in and of itself, one which he was immensely proud of. To have the damned animal be his undoing at the very end would be too much. The very end? Yes, this was the very end. He'd have to accept that.
Luckily, a female voice shushed the dog before opening the door.
"Is this the child?" Her eyes were soft and her face was pleasant, slightly settling the churning motions in his gut. She was in her mid-forties at most, and had been talked about as a very gentle woman with a good heart.
"Yes," he replied in a low voice. "I'd rather not wake her, if you don't mind. Do you have somewhere I can put her down?"
"Yes," the woman answered. "Come in."
He stepped gingerly into the cottage. It was small, but well-kept. It stood at the top of a hill overlooking the sea. The girl was accustomed to the sea. She loved it, in fact. He took a bit of comfort in knowing he'd given her that much.
"In here," the woman gestured to a small sitting room. "Her room is up the ladder, but you can't climb it without waking her." He simply nodded before moving to place the girl down gently onto the tattered sofa. Her head, which she'd unconsciously nestled into the crook of his neck, hung limply for a moment as she slid from his grasp. He felt the absence of her soft hair brushing against his chin and although the lack of her small frame relieved his tired arms, he couldn't help but feel very cold. He resisted the overwhelming urge to gather her back up to his chest and return with all haste before she even knew what he'd almost done.
No. He scolded himself for the hundredth time, forcing his... Regrets? Sadness? His emotions, he decided, to the back of his mind. This was it and he had better learn to deal with it.
These people were far from rich, but the girl wouldn't want for anything while she was here. She would be taken care of to his satisfaction, he'd seen to that personally.
The girl shifted again, grumbling something about the cabin being too damn cold again. It was a little damp in here... oh well. These were far better conditions than she'd been used to in the past. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't wake.
He turned to leave the room. No long goodbyes, he reminded himself. She'd say something - something to make him change his mind. Too late for that. He couldn't change his mind, not with her life on the line.
"I don't mean to pry," the woman whispered, following him a few steps out of the room. "but why exactly are you just leaving her here? She does know what's happening, doesn't she?"
He paused in the doorway. The sleeping draft he'd given her would wear off soon, and she would wake up. He had to leave before then. The last thing he needed was her chasing him across the bay.
"I'm afraid, madam, that she is unaware of the arrangement," He replied quickly. "I must go, and you must make sure she stays here. Don't be letting her try and follow me. I have reasons of my own for leaving her in your capable hands." He walked briskly out the door and onto the porch. "I thank you, bid the lass farewell for me... And apologize."
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She clutched the straps of her backpack tightly in her hands. Chill out, she thought. You've done this before. You've done this before.
Tiptoeing over the dock without being heard was easy enough. Not being seen, well, that was another story entirely. She breathed slowly, deliberately. She had to keep her head. If she was seen, she'd need every ounce of brainpower to get away unscathed. One foot in front of the other. Nearing the edge of the yacht, she easily grabbed the edge and pulled herself up.
This boat wasn't exactly empty; the owners were staying on board, preparing for their trip. Luckily they weren't "party people" and were sound asleep at three in the morning. The crew seemed to have disappeared too, to her relief.
She quietly crept across the deck, to the stairs that would lead her to the owner's cabin. This was a large boat, and also had cabins for the crew and lots of rooms for storage, some of which remained untouched most of the time. This wasn't the first time she'd been aboard, no. It was, however, the first time she'd ever stayed aboard.
She made her way down the stairs, careful to listen for any signs of movement. As she passed the door that marked the owner's quarters, she heard nothing but gentle snoring. She continued down, down to almost the bottom of the ship, and into a small, empty room. Well, a nearly-empty room. She had a few boxes for company, and after poking through them, found nothing but a few fancy dishes.
She carefully closed the door and removed her backpack. She sat down on the floor, trying to make herself comfortable. They'd be leaving at a leisurely hour come morning, and she'd be stuck in here for a good twenty hours before they docked in Storybrooke.
She woke with a start when she heard voices outside her door.
She wasn't sure what time it was, or how long she'd slept. The ship was still rocking beneath her, and her instincts told her that they hadn't docked yet.
"No, no, no!" A female voice said. "I know they're in here. I want them for our guests next week, and they'll need cleaned. I can't remember the last time we touched them."
Fuckity shit!
The woman was talking about the dishes. Sophie knew it, and she also knew that there was nowhere in this room to hide. She was small, and had crammed herself into the oddest of hiding places before, but this room was so utterly empty that she found herself face to face with a middle-aged woman in less than thirty seconds.
"Robert!" The woman screamed.
Well, there goes plan A.
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"Damn it, Killian, if you don't hand them over I swear to God I will arrest you!" Emma tried again to snatch her handcuffs from him.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you'd hardly be able to arrest me without them."
"I couldn't use them on you, anyway. You only have one damn hand." She was just an inch or so too short to grab them from where he was holding them above her head. It never ceased to amaze Emma how men, no matter how old they were, still managed to maintain the mentality of a five-year-old.
"Too true, lass."
Since he was still not handing them over, she kicked him in the shin. He wasn't prepared for her to react violently, so he was taken a little off guard. He had bent over just enough for her leap up and grab her handcuffs from his good hand with a satisfactory "Haha!"
"Alright, you win, Swan," Killian said. "No need to get physical."
"You're such a pain in the ass." She said flatly.
"From you, love, that's a compliment." He smirked.
Emma had been sitting in her office for hours, trying to catch up on some paperwork that procrastination was making far worse. She took a long drink of her coffee, trying desperately to make up for her lack of morning caffeine. She'd never skip out on coffee again, if this headache was indeed proof of her caffeine addiction. It was almost as bad as a hangover.
She put down her pen and rubbed her temples. Laying her head down on the stack of paper and dozing off suddenly seemed like a very good idea, but she forced her eyes to stay open. If she could just finish this, she'd be all caught up. She just had to finish this last bit. She rubbed her aching hand, convinced she was going to get carpal tunnel syndrome if she had to write for one more second.
Her hand. It reminded her that she was long past due for a visit from a certain pirate who usually stopped in at some point in the day. Not that she looked forward to his unnecessary social call, because she didn't, but it did make her wonder. Of course, just then...
"Afternoon, love!"
"What is it now?" She'd groaned, flopping her head down on the desk. Hm, that nap sounded even better from down there. She wanted to say something about him interrupting her work, but she was far too relieved of the excuse to take a break to complain much more.
"What's wrong, Swan?" He'd asked. "You don't look happy to see me."
She had slowly lifted her head from her folded arms and raised an eyebrow at him. He was pretending to look hurt, but she could still see the smirk threatening to ruin his facade. That's when he'd stolen her handcuffs.
She shoved them into her pocket with a satisfactory "Hmf" and sat back down in her chair before her phone began buzzing.
Damn.
One distraction after another. An unknown number flashed across the screen.
"Hello?"
"Is this the sheriff?" A gruff male voice came through the earpiece.
"Yes, it is. Can I help you?"
"We need you down at the marina," he said quickly. "We found a stowaway on our boat, think she's a runaway."
"Is she still there?"
"Got 'er under lock n' key. Thought she was real clever trying slip away, but we got her here for you to take care of."
"I'll be down at the marina in a few minutes." She hung up and slipped her phone into her pocket.
"What's going on?" Killian asked.
"Some sort of stowaway down at the marina, apparently..." She said absentmindedly as she collected her keys, and doubled checked her phone.
"Curious, I thought strangers didn't come to Storybrooke?"
"Well, they don't. Not normally, I mean," Emma began. "They drive through it occasionally, and we get visitors from time to time. The curse somehow prevents them from staying here for any length of time."
"Ah, so they can pass the town line without being..." Hook paused.
"Without being de-memoried. Yes." Emma pulled on her coat and headed for the door, pausing when Killian followed. "Can I help you?"
"I'm going with you."
"No, you're not." Emma said blankly. "I'll have enough to worry about without you mindlessly tailing me."
"Mindlessly?" Hook asked. "I don't do anything mindlessly. Besides, I've nothing better to do. And I would make an excellent accomplice."
"Accomplice?" Emma repeated sarcastically. "Somehow I never saw a pirate becoming the accomplice of a cop."
"What can I say, love? I'm full of surprises."
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If Hook gave her one more smoldering sidelong glance, she was going to slap him so hard his clothes were going to be out of style when he woke up. Which is something he probably wouldn't appreciate seeing as he'd just acquired most of them. He'd settled into Storybrooke rather quickly, more quickly than she'd expected. Then again, Cora had made sure they were both prepared for the new land.
Emma parked her car as close to the docks as she could get to prevent herself from having to walk too terribly far.
"You drive like a chimpanzee," Hook stated. "I believe my life flashed before my eyes more than once."
"When you learn to drive, Hook," Emma retorted. "Then you can diss my driving."
"Touche."
Emma got out of her car and strode towards the docks, Killian on her heels.
"Why are you walking so fast?"
"Why are you walking so slow?"
"Someone's in a mood..."
"No, actually." Emma said sharply. "I'm not in a mood. Meaning, I'm not in any mood to put up with your shenanigans. So if you don't mind, I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible." She continued marching past the rows of boats.
"Are you Sheriff Swan?" A man stepped out from behind one of the larger boats. His voice matched that of the man she'd spoken with on the phone, and his appearance matched the gruffness of his voice. He was small, heavier, with hair that looked extremely unkempt.
"Yes," Emma replied. "Is this your boat?"
"No, I just work here." He replied, holding out his hand. "Name's Robert."
"You can call me Emma," she said, shaking his hand. She noticed his glance turn to Killian, then run down his left arm to his hook, then back up to his face. "Oh, this is my... associate. Killian."
"Charmed." Killian said flatly, noting the man's glance down at his hook. Very rude.
Because you know, there was nothing weird about the hook thing.
"Where is this person you were telling me about?"
"Right up here, follow me." Robert replied.
"Are the owners wanting to press charges?"
"She hasn't made up her mind yet. Nothing was taken. Seems like the poor kid just wanted to hitch a free ride." Robert said. "Boys, the sheriff's here!"
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"Boys, the sheriff's here!"
Double fuckity shit.
Sheriff? Oh, hell no. If they thought they were going to arrest her, throw her in jail, they had another thing coming. No way was she going down like this. Were they even in Storybrooke? She had no idea. They may have stopped anywhere so long as they could throw her off their boat. She couldn't get in trouble like this. Not now.
Two of the crew members entered the small room they'd immediately locked her into, one grabbing each arm before she could try for any great escape. There was no point in fighting them off down here anyway. She'd wait until she was outside, where she could get on shore and run like hell. The next town, the next boat, what ever, she didn't care.
They dragged her none too gently up the stairs and out onto the deck where a blonde woman (the sheriff? Sophie was expecting someone older, fatter, more... sheriffy) was waiting with the old guy.
Now.
Sophie swung on the crewman to her left, using their grip on her arms to hoist herself high off the ground and bring her foot hard against the side of his head. The first crewman let go, and the second was quick to release her when she threw him a punch. She ran towards the dock, but the blonde blocked her.
Emma grabbed the girl by the waist as she tried to charge past, but she spun out of Emma's grasp too quickly. Emma hadn't been ready for the small girl to exhibit that kind of strength, and was thrown off balance and onto the ground. When she made a second grab at the girl, she missed.
Sophie was nearly off the ship when she saw him.
Instead of running down the boarding ramp and onto the docks to possible freedom, she tried to skid to a stop. Sophie had spent plenty of time on boats, but she had forgotten one thing: everything is always slippery.
When she tried stop her feet, one of them simply slid out from under her. She went down, her head crashing against the yacht's railing. Her vision blacked out, and she limply fell into the water below.
"Shit," Emma hissed, standing up. She ran to the railing and looked down. The girl was not trying to swim.
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A/N: Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated! I am still learning here. As you may or may not be able to tell, I actually came back and edited this. I added a few lines in the beginning (and cut out a couple that just... they bothered me...) and found most of the typos. I think. I will be fixing the other chapters as well, so keep a sharp eye for minor changes!