Hi everyone! How are you all doing?
I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, fave, follow and review my story, because I had an insane amount of response to this! I'm serious, you've broken all of my records. I've never had this kind of response before, and I am absolutely honored that you love this little thingy my brain decided to come up with all of a sudden.
So, I know you were all curious about this chapter, and I know it's short, but it needs to be. The story kicks into gear after this one, and there are some bumpy seas ahead for out lovely Lieutenant, his Swan and their little family.
So, I'm gonna go back to studying, and I hope you all have awesome holidays, and if I don't update before the New Year, Happy New Year to all of you!
Bye y'all, and I hope you enjoy.
Please, R&R!
Love,
Annaelle
PS Reviews are like Killian Jones; they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and grin like a loon (and they make me write faster :p), and hopefully, they'll make the hiatus seem like it's shorter.
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Across Time And Space
He's staring at her, and the knot in her stomach tightens—she knew, she knew it was too soon for them to have a baby, and now he'll be mad at her because it sucks having a baby this young—it's gonna ruin their lives—and then suddenly, he's kissing her and she can't breathe and…
Shit.
She kisses him back—of course she does—playing with his hair idly, relaxing slightly, despite how nervous she was (and still is, to be honest). When he leans back, she pouts, because as long as he's kissing her, she knows they're okay, and she doesn't want to hear if he's upset about her being pregnant (though, now that she thinks about it, it's not like she took a test, and for God's sake.. Wouldn't it be way too early to tell? She was a virgin up until two weeks ago—you can't tell that early, right?)
"You're with child?" he breathes, and she swears to God… He sounds awed. "If she was right," she whispers, still slightly unsure about how he'll respond, "I mean… It's not like there's a test or anything. All we have is the word of a gypsy woman." He chuckles, nudging her nose with his and pressing a soft kiss to her lips before whispering, "That and many a day we spent in bed, my love."
Her cheeks flush and she flails slightly, but he's already moving, dropping to his knees before her (in the middle of the fucking street, mind you), pressing soft kisses to her stomach. "Killian," she hisses, "Get up! What are you doing?"
"Hush, love," he scolds her, "I'm greeting our child." Her eyes flood with tears at his words, and she swears, she's never loved him more than she does right now. She twines her fingers in his hair as he whispers silly nothings to her stomach, trying desperately not to cry; he's happy—she is too, but she's also so scared.
She doesn't know how to be a mom.
Killian gets to his feet slowly, cupping her cheeks as he pulls her forward to kiss her again. "We're having a child," he whispers against her lips, "We're having a child." She breathes in relief at the pure happiness in his voice, nodding along slightly. "We're not sure yet," she reminds him, "I mean, it hasn't been that long… She could be wrong."
"No," he shakes his head stubbornly, playing with one of her curls, "She's right, I'm certain. We're having a baby." She chuckles a little, because honestly… He's more stubborn than she is—they are going to suffer when they do have a child.
Their kid is going to be the most headstrong kid ever.
"Come love," he suddenly cuts through her thoughts, "We must go back to the house." She frowns in confusion, not moving though he's tugging at her hand insistently. "Why are you in such a hurry?" She asks, squeezing his hand tightly. He looks down sheepishly and smiles, "You need to take off the corset. I remember when Prue was expecting Rose, she stopped wearing corsets because it was bad for the baby."
"Oh," Emma breathes, her eyes wide and astonished—she hadn't even thought of that. "Really? It's bad for the baby?" Her hands fall to her stomach and she feels slightly panicked at the mere thought of their baby being anything less than 100 % perfect.
"Not this early on," he assures her, wrapping his arms around her, "the child will be fine for some time—but I know you do not enjoy wearing corsets anyway.." he smiles a little and strokes her cheek, "I thought you might like the opportunity to stop wearing them." Emma's smile brightens instantly, and she nods eagerly. "Yes! I would love to stop wearing them! Let's go!"
He chuckles slightly at her enthusiasm, but allows her to drag him along as she nearly bounces back down the road, towards the their house. She doesn't let go of his hand until they're back at the house, and she doesn't turn around to face him until they're in the bedroom, when she realizes that him being in the same room when she takes off the corset might not be the best idea if they want to do anything else today.
And besides, if she is pregnant… Can they still have sex?
She blanches a little at the thought of not sleeping with him for nine fucking months—that would be too damn long. She turns around slowly, biting her lip nervously as she looks at him. "Can we still… Can we still have sex?" She chokes a little, her eyebrows furrowing, "It won't hurt the baby, will it?"
Killian's nose crinkles, and he shakes his head, sliding his arms around her waist, "Well.. I don't think so. And if I am to believe my brother," he shivers a little in disgust, "All you will be able to think about in a few months is sex, darling." He taps her nose playfully and leans in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Oh," she breathes against his lips, "And … How will that be different from right now, exactly?"
She can feel his smile against her lips and she can't help but smile too—he knows she's right.
Besides, it's not her fault her husband is hot.
"You know," she whispers, her breathing growing slightly more labored when said husband begins trailing kisses down from her lips to the edge of her dress, "I might need some help getting out of that bloody corset."
He grins wickedly then, glancing up at her—his eyes are dark and it sends a shiver down her spine; that looks predicts so much…
So much pleasure.
Oh, she loves where this is going.
"As you wish, milady," he smiles, kissing his way back up to her lips, "As you wish."
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They have been back for a few days now, and though Emma is now almost certain that she is with child—she claims her monthly bleeds are late, and that she has never been late before—they have not shared their news with anyone yet, and Emma doesn't want to either.
He does not fully understand why she is insisting on keeping her condition a secret, but, as she's trying to explain, apparently it is something quite common in her land.
They are currently holed up in their bedchambers, Emma claiming to be tired and unwilling to entertain other people—her words, not his. He is sitting with his back against the headboard, Emma's back resting against his chest as their entwined fingers rest upon her stomach. "You know, in my world," she whispers, "We have this thing called 'ultrasound'… It can show you what the baby looks like and how far along I am and all." She sighs and leans back against him, "I wish we could do that now. I would love to see our baby grow."
He's intrigued by the idea of seeing the baby before he or she has even been born, but he can hardly comprehend the idea. "How is that possible?" He questions in the same soft tone, stroking his fingers over her flat, bare stomach.
She shrugs a little and sighs. "I don't know exactly. I've never been pregnant before. I just know stuff I remember from health classes." He frowns a little, unsure what she means with health classes, but decides not to question it. "I'm a few weeks along," she continues, "So… Our baby's probably the size of a peanut by now."
He chuckles a little, pressing a kiss to her temple—he remembers her telling him that a peanut was a salty little nut; a snack; that was shaped almost like a bean. "A little bean then," he chuckles, "Our little bean."
They're silent for a while, and he closes his eyes, enjoying the moment—he won't be able to do this for a few weeks, and much as he loathes to leave Emma now, he cannot turn down an easy assignment like this. The King had specifically asked for him and Liam, assuring him that it was a one-time thing; that the time they spend on the mission will be added to the time they get off—so that Killian will be able to spend far more time with Emma before he needs to take on another assignment.
"I hate that you're leaving," she whispers softly, and he doesn't have to look at her to know that she's crying.
He tightens his arms around her and presses his lips to her temple again. "I know, my love, I know. But it is but a short mission. Liam assured me that it would take no longer than two to three weeks."
"That's still too long," she whines softly, "We just got married, and we're having a baby and I don't know this world and… I just want to spend more time with you." He smiles a little, but doesn't respond—she's right.
He, too, would prefer to spend far more time with his wife before they need to settle in their new, everyday lives. "It will be fine, love," he finally whispers, "I will be back before you know it, and you will have Prue and Rose to help you settle."
Emma only grumbles in response, her fingers flexing against his. "How do we do this?" she asks after another moment of comfortable silence, turning in his arms, so that she is straddling him. "How am I supposed to stand on that dock and watch you sail away, knowing all the things that could go wrong—the things that could keep you away from me forever?"
There are tears welling up in her eyes and he hates that she is so upset about this, because he can't turn down this assignment, not when the King specifically requested him and Liam. "Nothing will keep me from you," he vows, rubbing his thumb over her cheek gently, erasing any trace of tears, "there is no power strong enough to keep me from you, my love."
She sighs deeply and leans forward, resting her forehead against his. "You can't make that promise," she whispers while pulling herself closer to him, moving deeper into his embrace.
"I know," he whispers, wincing, because he hates how she's been hurt in the past, how she's been left by people she loved and cared about so many times that she's absolutely terrified to let him out of her sight for fear he might not come back to her. It's something he understands all too well—though he has not nearly suffered the same kind of losses as she has, he does understand how scared she is.
He is too.
He loathes the mere idea of not having her in his life.
"But I can promise that I will never leave you of my own free will. I can promise that I will fight for you—always, my Swan. I'll never abandon you or our child," he adds, running his fingers up and down her spine slowly, soothingly, as she snuggles against him, her breath fanning over his collarbone. He feels her eyelashes flutter against his skin when she closes her eyes, and rests his cheek against her hair, closing his own eyes as she whispers a "okay."
"I love you, Killian," she says after a short silence, her fingers trailing over his arm slowly, and his heart skips a beat, because he will never be able to convey to Emma how much he loves her—adores her.
Needs her.
"And I you, my love," he whispers in return, tightening his embrace on her slightly, "Always."
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"All hands on deck!"
He strides across the deck of the Jewel of the Realm, trying his very best to remain as professional as he can manage with his mind still quite preoccupied by his wife and the way she had wished him a good journey, reminding him that he had promised to return to her—to them.
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"Promise me you'll be safe," she tugs on his cravat lightly, a little bit harder than necessary, as she pretends to straighten it. "And that you won't do anything stupid." He smiles indulgently, and decides not to remind her that this is not his first journey, nor that he is as nervous about their separation as she is.
"I promise, Emma," he smiles, wrapping his fingers around her wrists delicately, pulling her closer so he can press a kiss to her forehead. "You have to come back," she mutters, "You promised you'd be back for me and the little bean."
"And I shall," he responds, "There's not a day that will go by that I will not think of you, my love."
"Good," she smiles shakily, and tears well up in her eyes, "You better come back soon, mister," she orders in a no-nonsense tone that makes him chuckle slightly. "I'll miss you too, darling," he whispers, pressing a short kiss to her lips.
He yields when she pulls on his hair and kisses him again, allowing them both one more moment before he needs to leave. "I will see you soon," he breathes against her lips when she breaks the kiss, smiling a little when she merely kisses him again, before sinking into his arms for one last embrace.
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Absent-mindedly, he taps one of the sailor's chests where his vest is not properly buttoned. "Apologies, Lieutenant," the man grumbles, and for some reason, it bothers him that they do not address him with his name.
"Lieutenant Jones, sailor," he says slowly, clearly, "The Captain is in transit with orders directly given to him by the King himself." He paces the deck slowly, tensely, trying to take his mind off his wife and their child and onto the mission, so he can complete it quickly and safely, and return home to her in one piece, like he promised her.
"Before he returns," he continues, shaking himself from his reverie, "this ship will be swabbed, specked and—" he stops dead at the sound of clinking glass, closing his eyes in desperation for a brief moment, before he turns to the responsible sailor, fishing a poorly hidden bottle of rum from the man's pocket, waving it toward the other sailors (and trying to ignore the urge to drain the bottle himself). "Does anyone know what happens to sailors who drink rum?"
The men are all silent, and he continues harshly, trying to work off his own frustrations on them. "They get drunk. And drunkenness leads to bad form—and the one thing that will not be tolerated aboard this ship is bad form." He tosses the bottle, angrier with himself for being tempted to drink from it than he is with the sailor to have brought it.
"My ship has never been in finer hands," Liam booms as he steps aboard The Jewel, "Excuse our Lieutenant, men, he was pulled from his honeymoon and his wife's bed unexpectedly—any man would be in a foul mood," he jokes, and Killian smiles slightly in relief while the men all laugh and tip their hats at Liam as he approaches them.
"Captain," he nods at his brother, "We stand ready to receive the King's orders." Liam nods and bellows, "To your stations," before he turns to Killian and claps his hand on Killian's shoulder. "I feel as though I have not seen you since you came home, brother." Killian grins sheepishly, following Liam to the helm of the ship, shrugging a little.
"I would apologize, brother, but I do not regret spending all of my time with my wife whatsoever." His smirks is almost devilish, and Liam chuckles in response. "Aye, nor should you be. I do hope you are able to pull your attention from your lovely Emma for the duration of our assignment."
"I make no promises," Killian winks playfully, "she is quite lovely.. And—" he glances around briefly, verifying that they cannot be overheard, "I wish to return to her swiftly… I loathe leaving her in her condition."
Liam whirls around, his eyes wide and startled. "Her condition?" He repeats slowly, "She is with child?"
"Aye," Killian nods, hushing his brother lightly, "But do not shout it off rooftops—Emma wishes for it to be a secret for a little while longer." Liam nods, clapping his hand on Killian's shoulder briefly. "Congratulations, brother. You both will make fine parents."
Killian's stomach squeezes a little, and he nods, disguising his nerves as excitement. "I certainly hope so, brother. Now, please, let us set off on our journey—the sooner we leave, the sooner we can return."
Liam chuckles and nods, opening his satchel and handing Killian a beautiful golden sextant, to commemorate their latest journey together. "So," Killian asks when he has thanked his brother and examined the sextant, "whereto, brother?"
Liam smiles secretively and pats the top of his satchel. "A land where none before us has set foot, Killian. We are in need of our Pegasus sail too."
"Pegasus?" Killian demands, "We are travelling across realms?"
"Aye, we are," Liam nods, "And I've need for you, little brother, to set our course." Killian glances down at the sextant in his hands briefly before looking up at Liam. "And what might our heading be, Captain?"
"It's quite simple," Liam chuckles, maneuvering the ship out of the harbor with practiced ease, "Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning."