It felt like an eternity had passed, an eternity since the hidden hands had pushed her into the yawning portal. An eternity since his anguished face had been restrained from following her into nothingness. An eternity until her back slammed against the ground, effectively knocking the breath from her lungs, and creating the darkness grasping at her consciousness, and begging her for a dance she was all too glad to accept.
When she woke, it was dark. No, dark wasn't the right word. It was too dark to be dark. It was pitch fucking black. She sat up, and was immediately rewarded with a complete tilt in her equilibrium. The world lurched around her, and bile rose in her throat. She fell to her side as it burned its way to her mouth, and she felt her stomach clench as she retched her breakfast. Once her stomach had ceased its traitorous actions, she rolled slowly from the mess. The blackness claimed her attention again.
The dazzlingly bright sun woke her again. Slowly, she rose to a sitting position, wiping at the sand and spittle clinging to her face. Brightly colored bugs swarmed the area she had emptied her stomach. She watched them curiously. They were sick little creatures, hunting the disgusting things nature offered. Why would something so amazing choose something so horrible as a food source?
"Swan!" the deep, accented voice swayed her gently from her observations. She turned confused eyes to the approaching man. "Swan. Thank the gods I've found you." She stared at him, meeting his eyes. They were the color of the ocean. She felt her eyes gloss over as she drifted into the depths they offered. Her body began to rock, her eyelids grew heavy, and she was falling to the side, her mind floating again into the empty void.
His hand shot out as fast as lightning to catch her before she could hit the ground. Fear gripped his heart and tightened his chest. What had happened to her? It had taken him nearly a week to find her, and if the sand around her was any indication, she hadn't moved from her spot. The large animal tracks around her still body were frightening, however. He feared some beast had infected her with a wild Neverland illness, one he had no way to cure.
He sat with her head in his lap for hours. Time flowed differently in this land from hers, and he lost track quickly. His only indication was the setting sun. Gently, he brushed the hair from her face each tome the wind lifted the tresses. In sleep, her skin was smooth and flawless. She was unburdened by the stress of her every day life. As the wind picked up and the night air cooled around them, he shrugged from his overcoat and draped it over her body. Oh, how he wished she would wake soon.
There was a shadow across her face, blocking the glare of the sun. she was reluctant to open her eyes, but the rough fingers caressing the side of her head filled her with enough curiosity to risk the sine. Her eyes flicked open and the worried brow of the man carefully touching her immediately smoother. His face lit up with a smile, and she felt the pull to grin back. But her head throbbed, and her body ached, and, dammit, she couldn't even remember her name.
His brows furrowed again when she showed no signs of recognition. He pressed his fingers gently into her temple trying to draw some sort of reply from her. She watched his Adam's Apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, no doubt trying to work out what was wrong. What was wrong with her?
"Love?" She could hear the concern in his voice, and she had the sudden urge to comfort this man. She didn't know. His fingers were moving again, trailing down her cheek. "Could you say something, darling? You've got me frightened."
She lifted her hand slowly to his face. He watched her hand rise, yet he still tensed the moment her fingers touched him. What had him broken so badly that her touch made him stiffen so suddenly? "I'm sorry for scaring you." Her voice came out as little more than a whisper, but she knew he had heard her. He relaxed visibly, his hand trailing to her shoulder. His touch was comforting, and it put her at ease. Despite no knowing him, or how he knew her, she felt as though they belonged to each other.
The scruff of his face tickled her fingers. He brought his hand up to cover hers, pressing her palm flat against his face. "Lass, what are you not telling me?" he sounded so lost, so broken hearted. She didn't want to tell him that she couldn't remember who he was, or why she felt so close to him. She just knew the look that would flit across his face would break her heart too.
The words wanted to lodge themselves in her throat, but she forced them out. He was waiting her hear her voice, to listen to what she had to say. His patience with her felt important. His attention felt important. Her mouth opened, but for a second, she sputtered, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said. All the while she struggled to align her thoughts, he watched her patiently, expectantly. "I don't know who you are…" His face fell immediately, her words sinking in automatically. She rushed to continue, before his crestfallen expression brought the tears that burned just beneath her eyes to the surface. "I don't know who I am, either. My head hurts, my stomach is a knot, and I can barely feel myself. I feel like I've slept for weeks, but like I haven't for a year…" she trailed off, struggled to realign her still jumbled thoughts. "And I think I'm going to puke."
She lurched away from him, struggling to get as far from his warm body as she could before the muscles of her stomach started clenching again, searching for something to expel from her body. She knelt for what felt like hours, gagging and dry-heaving. There was nothing in her stomach to come up, but the heaves wouldn't stop. He was there suddenly, pulling her hair away from her face. His fingers rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders. By the time she got control over her body, she was trembling, sweaty, and sobbing. He whispered soothing words into her ear, his hand never ceasing its ministrations.
He waited silently until she had calmed, then drew her body slowly to his. He moved hesitantly, waiting for the fiery spirit to make itself known. The woman he held, whose hair he stroked so delicately, wasn't the same woman he had grown to love. But he knew. He knew that something was wrong. He had stood vigil over her resting body for a day and a half, retuning his overcoat to his shoulders as the sun rose, praying to the gods above that he hadn't lost her as well. He prayed that she would wake so that he could look into her beautiful eyes again. But the news was devastating, and he wanted nothing more than to have her push him away in this moment, roll her eyes at him, and scoff at the way he was behaving. But that woman wasn't here right now, and he was the one that was tasked with bringing her back.
He placed his fingers under her chin, and slowly tilted her head back, locking eyes with her. "You are Emma Swan. You're a bloody brilliant lass, with fire in your veins, steel walls around your heart, and love filling it. You have a young son back home. His name is henry, and you love each other like nothing I've seen. Your mother is Snow White. Your father is Prince Charming. Yes, I'm serious. My name is Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger. You're the most amazing woman I've met in almost three hundred year, and I'll tell you now, in the hopes that it may jog your memory. I love you, darling."
She felt the tears brimming in her eyes. He spoke so earnestly, and it took a moment for the entirety of what he said to sink in. But there was something he said. His name, her parent's names, the title of his ship. "Wait. Captain Hook. Snow White. Prince Charming. Jolly Roger. Three hundred years? No. Freaking. Way. You're trying to tell me you're all fairy tales? Are you crazy or something?" she started to laugh, but thought better of it when the movement racked her head and churned her stomach. She jerked away from him, fearing she would start heaving again. What the hell had she done to cause this kind of torture? He – Killian – Hook – reached for her again, to draw her back into his comforting embrace. She smacked his hand away, sucking in a breath at his pained expression. It stirred something in her chest. She wanted to apologize, but he had already schooled his features into a look of nonchalance.
"We need to get you home, lass." His hand touched the back of her head gingerly, light as a feather. "This bump is rather nasty, and I fear rum is not the answer this time." A chuckle vibrated his chest, and her eyes were drawn to the deep V his shirt created, and the patch of dark hair poking from underneath. She felt her body heat, and she forced her gaze away from his chest and back to his face. He was staring at her, his face completely serious. Her face heated as quickly as her body has, and she jerked her gaze away, hoping to hide her embarrassment.
"You're beautiful all flustered up, love. I can think of a few more situations to create a similar reaction. All of which are quite more enjoyable." She blushed so hard her neck took on a bright red glow, and he broke out in full laughter. Blindly, she reached towards him to smack his shoulder, and her elbow skimmed across the smooth metal of his hook. She froze, her gaze drifting lower. Her finger wrapped around the curve, and he tensed when he realized what she was doing. She tugged, drawing his appendage closer. She twisted it, gently turning it this way and that. Slowly, she reached for the sleeve of his overcoat, watching him watch her from under her lashed. Hesitating only briefly, she pushed the sleeve up minutely, not pausing in the least at his careful "Love…?" She ran her fingers over the device holding the accessory in place. The cool metal cooled her heated skin, and she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding.
"Killian…" She ignored his sharp intake of breath. "You were serious, weren't you? No, you said you were serious, but you're seriously serious." She let go of the hook suddenly, and he drew it back to his side, attempting to hide it, fearing it would upset her further. He had always known she didn't accept it. Who could? "I live in a fucking fairy tale, and Captain fucking Hook says he loves me. No, no, don't hide it. It doesn't frighten me. I just don't understand this. Everything. I mean, where are we? How did we get here? Where are we from? You said you love me, but you also said my son. Is he yours, too? Do I love you back?"
He watched her intently, waiting until her questions died off. There was nothing more in this moment he wanted than for her to remember herself, to come back to him. He stretched, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed down her face, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. "We're in Neverland. I came after you." He searched her eyes, judging if his next move was wise. "Emma. I'm going to kiss you now."
And then he did. He waited, gently moving his lips against hers. She was shocked at how perfectly they molded together. He took her hesitation as a sign that what he felt was unrequited, and pulled away, hurt glistening in his eyes, pink lighting his cheekbones. She wasn't done with him, she realized suddenly, and her hand shot up to grip the back of his neck. She jerked him forward and their lips crushed together in a tangle of skin and teeth. Something powerful pulsed through her body, erasing her aches and her questions, and she pulled away panting. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "Emma," he whispered, and a shiver raced down her spine.
"Killian," she whispered, just as quietly. "Let's go home. I want to properly introduce you to my parents and to Henry." A grin broke his face, and she couldn't help the wave of heat that crashed over her body. Her fists gripped the lapels of his coat, and she jerked him as close as she could, pressing her lips back to his. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair, the gentle pressure igniting a flame deep inside she couldn't remember ever burning. This, whatever this was, was real. She pulled away, lifting his face so that she could look in his eyes. "I love you, too, Captain."