A/N: I'd decided I wouldn't update until my friend had followed my story, but, she's taking forever, so I might as well do it now. :D As promised darlings, Hook and Emma will make an appearance in this chapter. And no, I don't regret my wording. ;) Got to have you lovelies living on the edge, now don't I. :P Chapter 7 sweeties, who knew my little story would ever get this far? All of you who review/follow/favorite, that's what keeps me writing this story, I eat them like some kind of writing food. I can never get enough of it! So, without further ado, here is Chapter 7. :) ~ Auream Lucem
Emma turned back the way she had started to go and ran. Emma ran. She didn't care where she was going, as long it was away; away from what had just happened, away from him. Emma was wet, she was soaked. Every inch of skin drenched with rain, but she didn't care, she just kept running.
He had kissed her...
Emma knew Hook, he was proud. He would pursue her with innuendos, till they both stopped breathing and dropped dead. But, he would never make a move. The whole point was to get her, to make a move on him, for him to win in their unspoken battle of wills. Then why in the world had he kissed her?
Emma couldn't think about kissing. After... after Neal, kissing had never meant anything. She'd never let it. Her emotions were chained down somewhere in the back of her mind and she didn't let them wrap their way into anything. She didn't let herself hope that 'this meant that' and 'that meant this', because when things matter, when things mean something, that's when you get hurt. They say being in love feels like flying, but that just alludes to the fall. Because when someone leaves, there is no one to hold you up, and you will fall. You will plummet at terminal velocity, until you connect with the ground, you soul, your trust, your everything shattering into a million pieces.
Emma had been broken. Neal had broken her. No matter how much she had put herself back together to survive, and then recently a little more, because of, and for Henry; she still had cracks. Her willingness to trust seeped through these cracks. She couldn't let anyone in, it hurt too much, because she knew they would leave her and it would be like Neal all over again. She had taught herself to be strong from a young age, she supposed she had to have been, to survive. Being an orphan had been tough, the lingering feeling of being unwanted, the constant question of 'what is wrong with me?'. Because it was the only thing that made sense, if there wasn't something wrong with her than wouldn't people have wanted her? Wouldn't a family have kept her, when she was in the foster care system? Because she had just bounced around like the ugly duckling that no one wanted. And then she had met Neal. Someone had finally wanted her, just her and only her. But it had turned out to be a lie. It had been the fact that she had thought she had had something, something that she had wanted for as long as she could remember and then to be told, actually no, that had really broken her. It had been like seeing the entirety of the wretchedness, that is the soul of the universe. Everything came in crystal clear and as sharp as knives. The life she thought she had, had been dispelled like a little girl's fantasy. She had felt betrayal at its true and immoderate core.
Neal had just walked away. Walked away, taking all her hope, trust and her possible happiness with him away in an instant. He had left her. She had thought before then, that she knew what it was to be alone in the world. But the moment after he left her, was when she truly knew what it meant to be alone. To feel truly alone, you have to have lost something; then when it is gone and you have less than nothing, is when you are completely, utterly and truly alone.
Since then, she had only felt as lost one other time. Her thoughts swirled to the last person she had kissed, Graham. It had been ten years since Neal had, without a care, sent her already fragile emotional state into turmoil. She could feel herself opening up and she wanted to. She wanted to trust him, to let him in. It had been in its early stages, but she had felt so full of hope, at what might be. She still had some of her walls up, but for the first time, in a long time, she hadn't been afraid to let them fall down. To let another person see Emma, who she really was, not who she wanted and sometimes pretended to be. She had felt like she needed to be constantly strong, unafraid. But the truth was, even the bravest person knew fear as a friend. She wanted to be able to be herself, not have to hide, and have someone love her anyway.
Although she never really often admitted it, as much as she had tried to convince herself she didn't need it, she could live without it, she did want love in her life, she did need it. She wanted to love someone and she wanted them to love her unconditionally back. She wanted to be happy, go to sleep next to someone and wake up to them by her side in the morning. Have someone stand by her and never want to leave. Graham had brought back that hope, that dream back into her life, like a wavering but steadying flame inside her. And then he had died. The last person she had kissed, considered the possibility of being able to be happy with, had died in her arms. He had left her, just like everyone else. She had felt like she had died herself. All her feelings of Neal abandoning her, had come rushing back and it was then she decided that enough was enough. A girl could only be expected to withstand so much heartbreak. She couldn't let anyone in again, she wouldn't even give them the chance.
That's why she had left Hook, left him before he could get to her. She had left him at the bean stalk, because he had been honest with her. When he had tried to use that in his argument for his release, it had only hardened her resolve. His honestly, his charm, his persistence, his bravery, his trueness had scared her. He had been himself and she had believed him. She had believed in the man that had stood before her. She had looked at him and seen something, and it had awakened something inside her. He had been like a key, unlocking her heart and letting all her feelings, everything, roam free. And she had liked it, she had enjoyed being with him. It had felt right, like second nature. Challenging him and besting him had made her feel alive, in a way she had never felt before.
But on their trip, she had seen glimpses of the broken man that dwelled beneath his walls. When she had asked of Milah, his face had been filled with the anguish of loss. It had been familiar, a look she had once known on her own face. They were so similar, yet so varied. He intrigued her, he infuriated her and he made her want to laugh in a way that made her feel free. Like she could fly again. And that was why she couldn't risk it. So much possibility came at a price. What if she was wrong again. She had only just survived Neal, she couldn't risk being wrong again. She couldn't risk being wrong about him, so she hadn't. She had left him then, and she was leaving him again now. She felt it was better to leave first, even if it hurt, because leaving first was better than leaving last, when you were in too deep. Because then all that you would do is drown.
But as much as she didn't want to let it be anything, as much as she tried to leave him, he kept coming back, he kept finding her. His face kept invading her thoughts. Ever since she had met him, he had been unwontedly stuck in the back of her mind, as much as she had tried to push him out. He was always there. Even when she wasn't around him, she couldn't help but think of him and when he was around her, he was all she saw.
Fresh tears started falling down her face. She hadn't wanted this, she hadn't wanted any of this. She felt like her life was some big joke for the universe, but she could never see the punch line. She had her family back, she had Henry, why couldn't she just be happy with that? That was all she had ever wanted, to belong. But as soon as she had met that stupid pirate, she had felt like she had had an unknowing part of her, her life, missing. And she had fought hard not to need him to fill it, because she didn't need him, she didn't want him. For all she cared he could just go away never to be seen again and she would be fine. She would be better than fine. She would get better, recuperate, use her magic and get back to her life. Her life away from Killian and everything remotely pirate related.
...Killian? Hook Emma, Hook, she thought. Killian Jones had vanished when Milah had died. That much she knew.
But then she realised something. It hadn't been Hook that kissed her, it had been Killian... He was still in there somewhere- but it didn't matter. He was a broken soul, even more so than she. What had happened with Milah, had destroyed him and with his hand he had lost himself. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he had shouted at Gold after he had gotten hit by the car. She had seen a man full of hate, not only for his foe, but for himself as well. All he had left inside him was his need for revenge. Even if he did feel something else, he would never let go. He had too many constant reminders, his tattoo of Milah, his hook and probably every time he looked at Gold, all he could think about was his revenge. Even if Killian had surfaced somewhere, he was still Hook, and Hook would never change, he would never leave Killian, he would haunt him till the day he died.
She could imagine as much as she wanted, she could let herself feel what he made her feel, but it was pointless. He had said once that she was an open book and now that she had really thought about it, so was he. She wasn't wrong about him, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, the whole thing was pointless. They would never be together, that could never work, even if a tiny small part of her might have wanted it to. So Emma kept running. Her vision was blurred by tears, but it didn't matter, she could see well enough to avoid the trees and that was all that mattered.
She forced herself to focus on the rain still pounding into her, beating on her body and everything around her with a drumming sound. She let it and her immediate surroundings fill her senses. Forest smells of dirt, wood and the smell of rain... rain. Rain reminded her of him. Rain reminded her of him on the side of the road, with broken ribs, making jokes and calling her beautiful. Rain reminded her of him kissing her. Rain reminded her that she almost had kissed him back. Rain reminded her that despite her words, she didn't want to be done with him. But rain reminded her that she had to.
Emma was so busy running, crying and thinking of rain, that she didn't see it, and then it was too late...
Emma turned her back on him and ran. Killian just stood there frozen, as he had been, since he had kissed her. He watched her go, she ran swiftly disappearing from his sight, she didn't look back. As soon as she was gone, his brain finally started to scrap together coherent thoughts. He found his thoughts echoing what Emma had said a little prior. What the hell was that?
Had he just been caught up in the moment? No. Captain Killian Jones did not get 'caught up in the moment'. Why had he bloody kissed her, what was he thinking? What would she think? What did she think? What had happened to his plan to make her see the worst of him, to not see the truth? It had shattered, that was what had happened, and he didn't really want to think too long on why.
Everything had been going great, he had said everything perfectly. He had seen the hurt on her face, even though it killed him to hurt her, it had to be done. It was for the best, for Christ's sake! He couldn't have Emma, she was beyond better off without him. The sooner they had oceans in between them the better. It had been a selfish thing to kiss her. Even if he was a pirate and it was his nature to be selfish, to take what he wanted and then some, he would have to be better for Emma. He would be better. The kiss was a momentary moment of weakness, he wouldn't let it happen again. He would try his best to make himself hate her. Then he would convince her of his hate, show her his true nature. And if he couldn't make himself hate her then he would lie... but that was the problem. She could tell when he was lying, so it was better for him to not say anything and if he had to speak, just tell her mean truths. He would pick his words carefully, so as not to tip her off of his true intentions, and it had been working fine until the stupid bear.
He had just kept thinking about what would happen if she was hurt, if she was killed. What it would do to him. He could live without her, if she was safe and living her life, but if she died? He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He had been filled with a dread so precise and worry so profound, that all he could think of, was wanting to keep her safe no matter what. He couldn't lose her, she- ... she meant too much to him...
And then the bear had gone and he had felt relief. Relief washing over him in waves, he had been so happy, so caught up in his emotions that his resistance faded and he had kissed her, like he had secretly wanted since the moment he had first seen her. She hadn't reacted at all at first, he hadn't expected her to. He doubted she had thought he would kiss her, he hadn't thought he would either.
But he had been surprised when she didn't immediately push him off and there had been a second, a moment, when he swore she had started to kiss him back. Then she had pulled away and he had ached, for a second, with all his being to pull her back to him; but then the moment had broken and he had froze, stunned by what he just done. He suddenly somehow had millions of things to tell her and nothing to say, at the same time. Then she had left him, like she had done at the beanstalk, but it had been a thousand times worse.
He found himself disliking her for that. Dislike was good. Dislike could lead to hate and he needed to hate her. He hurriedly tried to think of other things he disliked. He disliked her for not kissing him back. He disliked her for not kissing him first. He disliked her for not liking him, for not wanting him as he wanted her. He disliked her for using his words against him in the moment before she left. He disliked her for being a princess, for being too good for him.
But his thoughts, traitorous as they were, quickly twisted themselves in the other direction. He disliked her for almost kissing him back, she could do so much better. He disliked her for letting herself sleep wrapped in his arms, she shouldn't have let him do it. He disliked her for the small chance that she might like him in the slightest; she couldn't, he couldn't, they couldn't.
Killian quickly formulated a plan. He would find her, make her believe that together they had the best chance of getting back to Storybrooke. She would agree, because she would do anything to get back to her son. He would make sure she thought that was the only reason and he would make her hate him. Not so much as that she would leave him and go without him, where he couldn't make sure she was safe, but enough that he would clear any thoughts and possibilities she might be thinking, from how he had been acting and the kiss. Ironically, he realised, the kiss had probably made her more likely to hate him. He would have to use that, twist it like a knife in a wound. He would tell her it meant nothing, that he did it out of lust, that he had done purposely to annoy her and that was it.
He unfroze himself from where he had been standing and stiffly started to walk after Emma. He started to build up his facade. He tried for annoyance, void of any other emotion. He started to hasten his pace, realising he had been thinking for a while and if he ever want to catch up to her, he would have to quicken his stride.
His wall was up and well, and he was sure his face was showing the perfect fabrication of uninterested annoyance. But it all fell away immediately, when he heard Emma's screams of agony ring out across the forest. His recent resolve and plan, dissolved like salt in water. He started to run, faster than he had ever run in his life. But it wasn't fast enough, he coerced his legs to run faster and faster, ignoring the pain. Emma's screams were the only thing he payed attention to, and with every breath, he prayed to the Gods that she would be alright, that he would get to her in time. She couldn't die, because he loved her.
A/N 2: Wow... okay, just wow.
This chapter was meant to go for much longer, it was supposed to get to a bit after this, but this just happened and I was like yeah.
Originally I had 'Oh, and a word of warning... PREPARE FOR DEATH BY FEELS...' in the first authors note, but I took it out. :) Didn't want to spoil the surprise.
If you couldn't guess I was listening to music again when writing this chapter, normally I can't listen to something and write at the same time, but it seems to work for this, at least I think it did...
I feel really bad ending it here, but fear not, Emma might be okay... eventually. ;)
Sorry for any errors, once again I couldn't wait to update. :D
Review? ~ Auream Lucem
