Yes I may have kept this chapter back so I could post it for CS AU Week but I hope it was worth the wait.
BLERG BLORG not my characters FLORG FLOOP
"What was her name?"
Emma's voice slipped into his thoughts bringing him back to the reality of the cramped crow's nest he found himself in.
They had been at sea for nearly two weeks. After the discovery of Hewitt's body Elsa had agreed that they were no longer safe in Arendelle. Desperate with grief and heartbreak Killian had led an even more distraught Thompson back to the castle with Emma and Elsa following silently in their wake. Curious glances and sympathetic whispers preceded them to the gates so by the time they stepped foot in the front hall it appeared as though the entire castle staff already knew what had happened.
It ended up suiting their plans perfectly. The servants and guards averted their eyes as they broke off to mourn in the separate quarters, as well as heeding Elsa's orders that they not be disturbed. Barely an hour later they slipped away having paused only long enough to hastily pack what they could carry in a rucksack and for Killian to force Thompson into drinking enough rum to calm him down and numb the pain.
Elsa had been the one to show them the passages that led out of the castle. She assured them that there would be a small ship waiting for them with trusted sailors and that their disappearance would be concealed as long as possible. Taking the Brooke wasn't an option for their escape to work.
Emma had wanted more time. She had run across Pinocchio when they had returned to the castle but Red hadn't returned and wouldn't have known what had happened. There had been nothing for it though. They couldn't have wasted time waiting for her to return and the larger their group was the harder it would be for them to escape unnoticed. In the end Elsa had conjured one of her messenger snowflakes and promised Emma that Red would know all she needed to.
Despite their rush they had made their way slowly back to the docks. Elsa had remained in the castle to keep up appearances and to begin an investigation as to why Hewitt had been killed and by whom. Before Killian had slipped through the final door of the castle she had told him the name of the ship they were to leave on and where it was moored. She had also informed him that it had been on standby just in case of an emergency and he had been relieved she'd had the foresight to do so. He left her with a kiss on the cheek in thanks and a promise to keep the other three safe.
They had made it to the ship with no problem and without rousing the suspicion of anyone they passed. Killian had kept vigilant watch as they moved through the streets, as he was sure Emma and Pinocchio did as well, and saw nothing that worried him. Their ruse had worked and ten minutes after stepping foot on The Istapp they had been sailing out of the protected fjord of Arendelle and back onto the open seas.
A small part of Killian had been happy to be under the blue sky, feeling the wind rush across his face, after weeks of confinement but it was rightly overshadowed by the sharp pain of losing Hewitt and witnessing Thompson slide into the depths of depression.
The first week he had barely left Thompson's side, listening when he was willing to talk or just being there when he wasn't. Going into the second week had been better but not by much. Killian only felt comfortable leaving Thompson when he had passed out from exhaustion and only for a few minutes at that. His excursion into the crow's nest was the first time he had finally allowed himself a chance to mourn Hewitt.
Emma was watching him. She hadn't joined him, patiently waiting for his invitation or his request to be alone. He could tell that she would wait as long as needed even if it meant hanging off the side of the crow's nest allowing her feet to go numb on the rigging.
"Brighid, her name was Brighid," Killian sighed, not trying to fight the hitch in his words as he slid over to make a space for her at his side.
She climbed over the rail with a grace he knew he could never achieve. There wasn't much room but she was somehow able to sit without landing in his lap. They were pressed together from shoulder to ankle yet somehow Killian still felt like she was leagues away. He ached to curl into her side, to take what comfort she could give, but he stopped himself.
"How's Thompson doing?" She asked quietly, almost whispering.
"Thompson is, well, he's sleeping through the night now and eating when I put food in front of him. That's the best I can hope for," he said with a shrug. He tilted his head towards her but kept his gaze firmly on the wood slats in front of him. "Lieutenant Brighid Eadoin Hewitt of His Majesties Royal Navy of Balliolshire, that's how she'll be remembered if she's remembered at all. They won't know that she joined because she was the fifth child in a family of seven and it was her only hope of providing a life for herself after her parent's lost their shop. Did you know she graduated at the top of her class, love? No, of course you didn't, how could you?"
Without thinking he draped his arm over Emma's shoulders. He waited for her to stiffen and pull away. Instead she leaned into him, dropping her head onto his shoulder with a sigh. After weeks, months really, of restraining his urge to touch her he was revelling in the feeling of her against him. Even if the gesture was purely for comfort on her part he adored it all the same.
"I didn't even know," he continued, "she was handpicked by Liam for our mission. An honor considering she was only twenty-two at the time. She loved the color blue, wished she could go to a ball at the castle but hated wearing dresses, wanted to be a Captain in her own right, and I knew none of this.
"We had a strict no fraternization policy, no relations between anyone stationed on the same ship. Of course that doesn't mean it doesn't happen, only a fool would believe that. I understand why Thompson never told me how close they had gotten, I thought it was just a bit of flirting between them, but I can't help thinking that if I had known she would still be alive."
"What? Killian you don't believe that do you?" Emma asked incredulous turning her head to look at him.
He dropped his gaze to the toes of his boots, "What else would you have me believe, Swan? If I had known the depths of their attachment I would have made sure she was protected. Thompson may have hidden it from me but I'm sure the Queen's spies were able to see what I hadn't. Hewitt shouldn't have left the safety of Balliolshire even with the temptation of seeing Thompson again. She practically painted a target on her back by being close to someone who is close to me."
"I don't believe that. Is that what Thompson believes too? He's not blaming you is he?" Her voice was sharp with agitation as she pulled away from him.
"He doesn't need to. It's my fault they were separated in the first place."
Thompson hadn't blamed him, not once. Killian knew though, once the shock of Hewitt's death wore off Thompson would see the truth: everything that had happened to them was Killian's fault. His blind pursuit of Captain Swan and the Tarina Brooke to seek retribution for the humiliation he'd suffered when they'd first met had led them down a treacherous path. Only now was he seeing the repercussions of his decisions and seeing clearly what lay in wait for all of them if they continued.
"Hewitt was the top of her class, which means she was smart," Emma said in a voice that made her seem like she was talking to herself. He looked up at her and was surprised by the intensity of her gaze on him. "She impressed Liam enough to be placed on his ship. I'm sure she was resourceful, patient, and quick witted if Thompson loved her as much as I'm thinking he did. I may have never met her but from what I can tell she didn't go to Arendelle for Thompson. She wasn't killed to send us a message. She was killed to keep from giving us one."
Elsa's words came back to him. She had told them that Hewitt had desperately wanted to talk to them. Specifically to Emma, not Thompson and not him but Emma. Even if she had been sent to speak to Captain Swan, unaware of Emma's true identity, it was telling enough. That clue had been washed away in the wave of grief that had possessed him. He still believed she would be alive if he had known about her and Thompson but no longer thought it was the only reason for her murder.
"What could she have known that someone needed to murder her to ensure her silence? Drastic measures considering we didn't even know she was in Arendelle," he drummed his fingers on his knee. "Someone must have seen her, either when she arrived or as she traversed the docks. It would have been easy to have grabbed her at that moment and then hidden her body but they didn't. Whoever killed her wanted us to know that she had something to tell us but had no intention of letting her."
"We were meant to find her like that," Emma said horrified. She shifted so her back was against the railing, facing him. "What could she have known?"
"She was on Liam's secret council," he murmured, voicing his budding theories. He thought his words had been carried away on the wind but Emma nodded encouragingly for him to keep going. "In his letter he mentioned a man that had been sent by the Queen as an envoy. He had his suspicions that the man is a spy."
"Another one?" She asked, seemingly annoyed with the prospect.
"Or perhaps the same one. We never did discover who aboard your ship was the spy and they could have easily returned to Misthaven for new orders," he said thoughtfully. "The Queen is close to no one, I've observed that on the few occasions I've been a guest in her castle. It stands to reason that if her spy assured her he was undiscovered and unseen by any of the crew of the Jewel he could easily slip into the role of envoy."
"And then what? He followed her to Arendelle?" Her knee knocked his as she twitched in agitation.
"No, the risk of him being recognized by you or your crew would have been too great. He also would have left Liam unobserved which would have been a greater risk. Most likely he had a man of his own that he sent along," Killian furrowed his brow as he began remembering more details from that day. "Her room was ransacked."
"Or made to look like it had been," Emma said picking up the thread of his thoughts. "I didn't notice a pack or anything that indicated she had just arrived after weeks at sea. So, either it was taken or she had hidden it."
"I don't remember much," Killian said quietly, a small lump forming in his throat. His recollection of the room was overshadowed by the memory of Thompson cradling Hewitt in his arms. "But I'd wager her killer didn't find what he was looking for. He wouldn't have had much time to look before he would have had to flee. Hewitt must have worried that she'd been followed and taken measures to ensure we'd learn the truth in case something happened."
"Elsa's had people searching for any sign of the killer or what Hewitt might have been doing up until she died," she blushed when he stared at her in confusion. "She sent a snowflake a few days ago but there wasn't anything really important to tell so I figured it could wait."
"Can you do that?" He asked suddenly. Emma jumped, his voice had been rather loud, and he put his hand on her knee, hoping to calm her. "I apologize. I just meant do you think you can send a message like Elsa can?"
"I don't know," she said slowly, staring down at his hand. He removed it quickly and thought he saw her lips dip into a frown momentarily. "I, uh, haven't really practiced my magic since we left."
"Why not, Swan? Practice makes perfect after all," he said with a twirl of his hand.
He was relieved when she quietly snorted a laugh. During their time back at sea he had only seen her a few times and for mere moments at that. They hadn't had a chance to discuss what had happened before they found Hewitt. Their kiss had been the only thing that had kept him from being swallowed by his grief but his guilt, that had nearly consumed him.
"I didn't think it was appropriate," she said with a shrug. "I'm also sharing quarters with Pinocchio and he still doesn't know that I had spent all that time in Arendelle working on it."
"Really?" He felt a shot of pleasure that he was still the only one who knew. He resolutely ignored the continuous jealous pang he felt at hearing she was spending her nights in Pinocchio's company, no matter how innocent she seemed to deem it. "From what I've gathered he's been your friend since childhood. I've not known Thompson nearly as long but he's still the first to know my secrets."
"All your secrets?" Emma gave him a disbelieving grin, raising her eyebrows.
"Only the ones that are mine to share, love. He still knows nothing of your magic."
She hummed, whether in approval or not he wasn't sure. Killian watched as she cupped her hands in front of her, palms open to the night sky above them. Slowly a small ball of light emerged, steadily growing in size and brightness. Once it reached the size of an apple it stopped increasing in size, dimming and brightening with a soothing rhythm.
Emma dropped her hands back to her lap. The sphere bobbed in front of her in sync with the pulsing light. He could see her clearly in the glow, somewhat tired but with a deep elation as she watched her magic at work before her. With a quirk of her lip it moved, ever so slowly until it rested before him. He wondered what she could see of him under its illumination.
"We need to figure out what we're going to do," she said, sighing heavily. "We can't keep sailing without a heading and I doubt there's enough supplies on board to get us to a safe port. Either we return to Arendelle or…"
Killian realized what she was contemplating as she trailed off into silence. Even with the glow of the sphere he could easily see the stars above him. He didn't need a sextant to discern their position. At the rate and direction they'd been travelling they were far closer to Misthaven's shores than he was comfortable with. For Emma it must have felt like torture.
"Let's figure it out tomorrow, yeah? It's late and there's much we need to discuss and having Pinocchio and Thompson there will help us decide what to do," he said with a false sense of surety, as though the dawn of a new day would hold all the answers.
The sphere flared brightly, causing him to squint against its light. In the moment before it dimmed again he could see clear annoyance coloring Emma's features. Once the spots cleared from his vision her face was a calm mask. She coaxed the sphere back to float above her hands.
"If I could get a message to Elsa what should I tell her?"
Her voice sounded odd. As though she was asking a completely different question. Killian wasn't entirely sure what it could be but somehow he knew that his answer would need to be the right one.
He watched her closely but her face remained impassive. The only indication that she was agitated were the slight twitches of her fingers, magnified by the sphere glowing above her palms. Hoping he was making the right move he shifted closer, pressing himself against her once again as he wrapped his hand gently around her wrist. The sphere flared brightly again.
"That we're safe," he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her wrist, "that we have yet to decide on a course of action, that we're aware of the difficulties that face us, and that we're never giving up."
There was a bright flash, one that had him turning his face away squinting against the intrusion of light. Emma's wrist turned in his hand but he didn't break his hold. He didn't turn back, even when the light faded until he heard Emma's delighted laugh. Her hand slipped into his as he faced her again.
The sphere had transformed. There, perched in her open palm, was what looked to be a small luminescent sparrow. It cocked its head to regard him then hopped towards the tips of her fingers.
"Anything else?" Emma whispered, as though she was afraid of scaring it off.
"Have Elsa's men look for any loose floorboards in the room Hewitt was found in," he said in a daze, mesmerized by the lifelike movements of the bird. "If she hid anything it would most likely be there."
Emma closed her eyes briefly, tilting her head down as if she were speaking to the bird but no sound passed her lips. The little sparrow ruffled its feathers before spreading its bright wings and taking flight. They watched it circle the crow's nest once, unaffected by the wind, before it flew off to the north leaving not even stardust in its wake.
"Who knows if it'll actually work," Emma said ruefully, her fingers tapping out a disjointed rhythm on the inside of his wrist.
"I have every belief that it will, love," he emphasized his statement with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "But if you're determined to dwell on it may I suggest doing so from the warmth of your bunk?"
"Why Jones, how forward of you," she said batting her eyelashes at him.
"What! No! I never meant- not that I- that is, bloody hell, lass," he blew out a frustrated breath as she laughed at him.
"Relax, sailor, I knew what you meant," she said with mirth. Standing with ease she tugged on his hand and he followed, although with a lot less grace. "But I might just take you up on it one night."
Killian was left in the crow's nest gaping after her as she descended back to the deck. Quickly he followed her down. As he went he grumbled under his breath, annoyed yet oddly pleased all the same. He knew as soon as his feet hit the deck she would be waiting for a retaliation from him. With a grin he quickened his descent, knowing exactly how to throw her as off kilter as she had done with him.
He dropped down beside her, the wood of the deck solid below his feet after hours of swaying up in the crow's nest. Emma was watching him, a playful glint in her eye. With a genuine smile he offered her his arm, as he would with any lady of the court. She looked at him with surprise, her eyebrows raised high over wide unblinking eyes. In response he merely gave her a short bow. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion she finally slipped her arm into his, curling her hand around his elbow.
"Tell me, love," he said conversationally as he began to lead her around the deck. "Why not a swan?"
"What?" She asked confused.
They passed by the hatch leading below at a casual pace. Killian smirked as he watched her look back at it. When she turned back to look at him he quickly formed his mouth into a gentle smile and looked at the length of deck before them. Her confusion seemed to grow.
"The bird that is currently winging its way to Arendelle," he said as he seesawed his free hand out in front of them in a lazy flying motion. "I thought you would have chosen your namesake to bear our message."
"Oh, um…"
Killian felt her hand twitch on his arm. Looking down at her he saw her ducking her head away from him. If they had been awash in daylight instead of moonbeams he was sure he would be able to see that her cheeks were stained pink.
"Have I stumbled upon some sordid secret, Swan?" He asked gleefully, thrilled his plan to get her on uneven footing as she had with him had worked.
"Of course not," she huffed trying to pull her arm from his. He brought his arm tighter into his side and she relented with a roll of her eyes. "It's not really anything important."
"I think it is to you," he said quietly, understanding why she was reluctant to share. He nudged her gently with his elbow. "I'd love to know more about your past."
"My mother," she started hesitantly, "she doesn't have magic. I mean, not like I do, but my father always said that she had some kind of power if she was able to enchant him so fully. She would roll her eyes every time he said it but she always had this little smile when she did."
They reached the stern and Killian gently guided her across the width of the ship to the port side. Emma had a small smile of her own as she reminisced. He was loathe to break the spell she was under keeping their steps even and his head tilted towards her as he listened without comment to her tale.
"My parents always knew I had magic or I think they did, the Dark One practically told them I would when my mother was pregnant with me," she said frowning suddenly.
"Told them? He knows the future?" He asked suddenly worried. If that power was tied to the Dark One's Dagger then the Queen would be nigh unstoppable if she got her hands on it.
"I'm not sure, Mother never liked to talk about it and Father wouldn't even allow his name said in his presence," her frown deepened. Then she shook her head and a smile reappeared, though not as easily as it had once been. "Is this my story or not?"
"Sorry, love, please continue," he acquiesced, storing the tidbit of information to mull over later.
"Anyway, I remember watching my mother coax birds from trees or the sky, sometimes it seemed they came from nowhere at all. They were always small birds from the forest: bluebirds, cardinals, starlings and sparrows. She would just hold out her hand and they'd come as if she'd called them.
"Mother would laugh when I called it magic but it really was. She used to send messages with them and if I was sad she somehow get them to fly around my nursery until I smiled. It was her own kind of magic."
"You miss her."
Killian didn't need to make it a question. Her wistful sigh and the almost compulsive way she was gripping his arm was testament to her sorrow. She hadn't lost her mother as he had but it was a loss all the same. With a shudder he realized she had been torn from both her parents in one fell swoop.
They had reached the bow of the ship. Emma, with no guidance from him, continued with their slow promenade.
"I haven't seen her or Father for ten years," she murmured sadly, "but sometimes it still feels like I just saw them that morning. Then there are the days where I can't really remember the sound of her voice or the color of my father's hair after our daily sparring sessions. It's those days that are the toughest."
"When my mother died," Killian started haltingly as he swallowed around the small lump in his throat. He had rarely spoken of his mother after her death, even with Liam or his father. "I tried to hold onto pieces of her but it seemed the harder I tried the faster I forgot the exact shade of blue her eyes were or if she preferred one or two spoonfuls of sugar in her tea with breakfast. Now I only hear her laugh in my dreams and I'm not even sure if it comes close to how she truly sounded. Unlike me, however, you have hope. You will see your parents again."
"I will?" Emma asked in a small voice, looking at him as if she wanted desperately to believe what he was saying.
"Aye, love, of that I have no doubt."
They made another pass around the perimeter of the deck in companionable silence. Killian was lost in the memories of his mother and his father, both now gone. He suspected Emma's thoughts were similar in vein.
Once they reached the hatch leading below again Killian let Emma's arm go only to open it and guide her down into the semi-darkness below. He followed, closing the hatch behind him and pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the soft glow of the single lantern left burning. Emma waited for him patiently and he offered her his arm once more as he led the way to the door of her cabin.
"Your quarters, my lady," he said relinquishing his hold on her and dipping into a second short bow.
"What was that, Jones?" Emma asked waving her hand over her head and then in front of her. Gone was the melancholy, replaced with humoured suspicion.
"Well, I wanted to have properly courted you, in a way, before…" Killian let the unfinished statement hang in the air as he stepped closer to her.
"Before?" She asked almost breathlessly.
Instead of answering right away he dipped his head, meeting her lips with his gently. She sighed into him, one of her hands sliding across his back as the other softly ran across his jaw, delving into the hair at the back of his neck. He pulled her in closer with his arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders, his own hand tangling in her soft blonde waves.
With reluctance he pulled back before he truly wanted to. Emma swayed into him, her eyes still closed. He smiled as he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he brushed a tendril of hair back from her face. She opened her eyes and he felt a thrill at the starry eyed gaze she was looking at him with.
"You didn't need to court me for that, sailor," she said licking her lips as she blinked up at him.
"I suppose not, but that's not what I meant," he said as he let a smirk unfurl on his lips and stepped back. "When I do find myself sharing your bed I want to have done at least something properly beforehand. Goodnight Emma."
Killian picked her hand up and dropped a perfunctory, yet gentle, kiss on the back of it. She was still gaping at him as he turned and headed down the passageway to his quarters. He only made it a few paces before a choked 'goodnight' sounded behind him. Smiling widely he returned to his cabin, entering quietly with the hope that Thompson was still asleep.
"Kil?"
He cursed silently, upset that he had disturbed what little rest Thompson might have gotten.
"Aye, it's me."
"What time is it?" Thompson sounded alert and Killian cursed silently again realizing he hadn't disturbed anything at all.
"Late or early, I'm not sure which," he whispered as he undressed and climbed into his bunk. "Try to get some sleep. We're going to discuss what to do tomorrow."
"Done with the mourning now are we? Wondered when Princess Swan would snap her whip to get you to attention," Thompson said bitingly. Killian didn't need to imagine the sneer that was likely on his face.
"Don't," Killian warned, sitting ramrod straight and peering into the darkness in the direction of Thompson's bunk. He had expected anger but the vitriol in Thompson's voice was more than he had been prepared for. "Whatever you're thinking is wrong. Get some sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."
"Unlikely," he heard Thompson mumble alongside the rustling of bedclothes. Suddenly a dark shape loomed above him in the darkness. "I think I'll go up on deck myself. Perhaps when I come back I'll be as unburdened as you seem to be."
"Tommy," Killian said beseechingly, standing only to be pushed back down.
"No, Killian, I've been following you on this fucked up journey for almost a year now. All we've reaped from it is exile from our own land, a war we're unprepared to fight, and death. Brighid would still be alive if I hadn't-"
Thompson cut himself off abruptly. He was breathing heavily through his nose. It was the only sound in the small cabin aside from the constant wash of water along the hull. Killian remained silent, knowing anything he said would be met with increased anger and accusations.
Finally Thompson abruptly bent down, Killian guessed he was wrenching on his boots from the sound of it and then crossed to the door, wrenching it open. Muted light spilled into the cabin, illuminating the pain etched on Thompson's face.
"When we land, wherever that may be, I'm leaving. I can't be a part of this anymore," Thompson whispered brokenly before closing it behind him.
Killian sat looking at the door, willing Thompson to come back, for longer than he cared to admit. He knew that going after him would only incite him further and thus stayed put. Finally he gave up, laying down on his side facing the door but sleep remained elusive. When the first sign of dawn crept through the cabin's window he sighed and resigned himself to a day of exhaustion and high emotions.
When Killian stepped on deck he could feel the bubbling of tension amongst the crew. Emma was right, they needed to decide where to go and soon. Elsa's sailors were trustworthy but their patience wasn't infinite. It wouldn't be long before they had to make port and the chance of their small group being left on the dock was a possibility.
Thompson's words gathered around Killian like a dark cloud, his guilt returning and creating a miasma of painful and tortuous thoughts in his head. Making his way to the rail he kept an eye out for Thompson. He was prepared to grant him the leave he was so eager for without argument.
The accusations Thompson had hurled at him were true. Killian hadn't given Thompson any kind of choice at any point in their journey. It had been a grievous error on his part to mistake his friend's loyalty and trust for a belief in his own personal mission. Another thing for the guilt to feast upon.
When the sun was a hand's width above the horizon Killian headed below deck to the galley. His head was buzzing with self recrimination and loathing that had only gathered in strength as he'd observed the unchanging seascape.
The galley was nearly empty. Most of the crew had already had their meals. The few that were left were blinking sleepily over their cleared plates, ready to retire after a long night on duty. Killian wasn't hungry. There was a roiling in his stomach that hadn't ceased all morning. Settling for weak tea he sat at the far end of the communal table, away from the others and began musing once more on how everything had turned so quickly on its head.
"Is this seat taken?"
Killian started at the sound of Emma's voice. With another jolt he realized he had dozed off sitting up. Emma was standing next to him and he looked up at her to see her looking back with a teasing grin. He shook his head, at his own foolishness and to clear the last cobwebs of sleep, and saw that Pinocchio was already seated across from him. They were also the only ones in the galley. He took a sip of his tea to clear his throat, grimacing at how cold it had become.
"Consider it yours, love," he said with a cough.
Emma's smile widened as she climbed over the bench. She wobbled slightly and he immediately steadied her with a hand at her elbow, wondering at the lack of her usual grace. He received an answer almost immediately when she placed another mug of tea in front of him. One that had tendrils of steam curling from its surface.
"Late night, sailor?" She teased, hiding her grin behind her own mug.
"Aye, far longer than I expected," he said, scrubbing his hand over his face.
Killian knew she was hoping for him to tease her in return or slip in a poorly disguised innuendo but his heart wasn't in it. He felt worn down and wrung out of all emotion save guilt. It seemed that he'd be draped in the chains of it for the remainder of his days.
"Killian, what's wrong?"
Gone was the lightness in her tone. He felt rather than saw her concerned gaze boring into the side of his head.
"Thompson will be leaving us when we make port," he said resigned. "Wherever that may be."
"What do you mean he's leaving?" Pinocchio asked indignantly. "We're down to the four of us and he's just going to walk away? Where's he going to go? Can we trust that he'll keep quiet about everything?"
"Pinocchio!" Emma gasped. "What the hell?"
"The woman Thompson loved is dead," Killian bit out as he curled his hand into a fist in anger, glaring at Pinocchio. "I will not force him to remain with us if the only reason for him to stay is because he's come this with us this far. He has every right to go where he must to mourn Hewitt, whether that be Balliolshire or to parts unknown. It is his choice."
"I get it, I do," Pinocchio said carefully, "but don't you think it's better he stay with us than go wandering off alone? How much safer will he be in Balliolshire or anywhere else for that matter? We have to think about the bigger picture."
"Did Elsa turn your heart to ice?" Killian asked disgusted. "Or have you always been a heartless bastard?"
"Killian, he didn't mean it like that," Emma said placatingly.
"Didn't he?" He accused, turning to her. "I guess not having to hear your best friend trying to muffle his sobs or calling out the same name night after night from the depths of a nightmare lowers your sympathy for a person. He is suffering and if leaving eases that then I will let him go, no matter how much it pains me to do so."
"Okay, Killian, it's okay," she said calmly running her hand across his forearm. The tendons in his wrist felt like they were ready to snap with how hard he was clenching his fist.
"Nothing is okay, Swan but as Pinocchio said we must look at the bigger picture. Thompson is leaving. We need to discuss how we will proceed."
Killian was still thrumming with tension. Pinocchio looked contrite but whether it was genuine or an act he couldn't tell. He didn't want to keep fighting, they had an unknown number of days ahead of them to be at each other's throats constantly. Emma continued her ministrations until he relaxed fractionally and she was able to slip her hand into his.
"Apologies, love," he said, expelling a harsh breath.
It was her open affection that finally allowed him to become calm. He didn't know why she was doing so but he wasn't about to question her on it and cause her to stop. As he rubbed his thumb along hers he resolved to discuss it with her at a later time.
"I spoke with the captain this morning," Pinocchio said after a beat of silence, wisely not remarking on their physical contact. "There are enough supplies to last us a few more weeks but our stores of food and fresh water are starting to dip. We have to decide by tomorrow if we want to go back to Arendelle or continue south, after that we won't be able to make it back."
"So our choices are go back to Arendelle, where there's someone who's killed once that might come after me or keep going south where there's definitely someone who wants to kill me," Emma said sardonically. "Either way I might end up dead so I'm open to discussion on which one will see me living longer."
"If we return to Arendelle our chances of being recognized are high but the risk is far lower if we return to Elsa's castle under the cover of darkness," Killian began. "There's also the remainder of your crew and the Brooke itself back on the fjord, if they have chosen to stay instead of chasing after us."
"They did," Emma said with a distracted nod. "Elsa convinced Red it was best until we knew where the hell we were going to end up."
"There's hundreds of leagues of shoreline if we decide to go south," Pinocchio mused. "It wouldn't be too hard to have the captain drop us off where the forest is right next to the water. We could easily slip into the woods of Camelot or even Misthaven and no one would know."
"I don't know," Emma said unsure. "I'm already uncomfortable being this close to Regina's strongholds. She might have stepped up the patrols of the borders along the north if her spy knows we're no longer in Arendelle. We also don't know who we can trust when we get there. The people knew my mother as their beloved princess and then as the bandit that fought for them when she was hiding from Regina. I'm just the one who abandoned them to her reign of terror again."
"You didn't abandon them, Emma," Pinocchio scoffed. "If they knew how much it tortured you they could never think that."
"But they probably do, Pinocchio! To them Princess Emma might not even be alive and Captain Swan is nothing but a black hearted scoundrel who happens to have an affinity for the gold on Regina's ships instead of the treasure on others. Who's to say they'll offer help to either one when I ask for it or that they'll even believe a word I have to say?"
Her hand was squeezing his almost to the point of pain but he bore it silently. Emma had plainly been thinking along such lines for a while. Killian didn't know which option would be best, the one where they could regroup and start again or the one where they went headlong into the unknown and to the inevitable fight they had been marching towards from the moment the Queen had retaken Misthaven.
"Arendelle is our best shot at getting our feet back under us and coming up with something better than running blindly through the woods hoping there are still people loyal to my family," Emma said giving a bone weary sigh. She loosened her grip, "I'm sorry Killian but Thompson will have to return with us. I'll have Elsa arrange for his transport back to Balliolshire."
"Now why would you do something foolish like that?"
They turned simultaneously to the door of the galley. Thompson was standing there, his stance casual but Killian could see the ticking in his jaw.
"Tommy, we have no choice but to return to Arendelle," Killian explained as he stood up. He walked over to where Thompson was standing and lowered his voice. "I understand you're upset with me but it's the only course we have."
"No it's not," Thompson said speaking to Emma and Pinocchio, ignoring Killian. "There are people who are still loyal to you in Misthaven and beyond, Highness."
"You can call me Emma, Thompson," she said gently.
"There are many things I could call you but Highness will suffice for now," Thompson's tone was pleasant but the steel in his eyes and the unceasing tic in his jaw contradicted it thoroughly. "If we return to Arendelle it will be only a matter of time before the Queen sends her forces there. Queen Elsa is not prepared to fight a war, her kingdom has been isolated for too long. When the Queen attacks Arendelle will fall."
"When?" Pinocchio asked with a raised brow.
"The Queen most likely already knew that Captain Swan was seeking refuge there, the Brooke stands out and it's a busy port with plenty of ears to listen to any wagging tongues. Brighid's death," Thompson's voice caught but he continued, staring at Emma, "was the Queen sending a message. Her death was the first, anyone in league with you or known to help you will follow. It's a familiar tactic, she used it against your mother after all."
Killian felt as if he was watching from afar. Everything Thompson was saying was true. He had even had similar thoughts when he couldn't sleep in the dead of night. To hear them said so plainly, without any tact, and from Thompson's lips made it that much worse.
"Where do we go then?" Emma said at a near whisper.
"Luckily for you I know somewhere where you'll not only be safe but the people will be clamoring to help you."
A vein throbbed in Thompson's temple and Killian instantly knew where he meant to lead them.
"Tommy, no, we'll go back to Arendelle. We don't need to go there. You don't need to go back there," Killian pleaded as he caught Thompson's eye.
"Go where?" Emma asked, swinging a confused look between him and Thompson. When they didn't answer, locked in a silent argument, she raised her voice. "Killian, go where?!"
"To Sherwood, Highness," Thompson said with a grim smile as Killian dropped his head in defeat. "Sherwood Forest to be exact. The Merry Men will be more than happy to join our little quest."
"Tommy-"
"Shall I tell the captain to set a course, Highness? Or shall we further discuss the limited options we have?"
Thompson rocked back and forth as though he was marking the time it would take to make their decision. Pinocchio was watching Emma, she was watching Killian and he was watching them all. There was no better option, Thompson was right. He gave Emma a small nod but he couldn't find it in himself to even give her a smile of reassurance with it.
"Sherwood it is then," Thompson said gailey, as though they had chosen a spot for a picnic. "I'll be off to inform the captain then."
"I'm coming with you," Pinocchio said gruffly, scowling as he stood.
"Don't trust me? Still?" Thompson asked with a mocking pout. Pinocchio flushed and Killian wondered how long Thompson had been listening in on their conversation before he stepped in. "Don't worry I'll have plenty of time to earn that trust. Seeing as how I'll be bunking with you for the rest of the voyage."
"What?" Killian asked stunned.
Thompson finally turned to him, a fire burning hotly in his eyes. "I am committed to this fight, your Highness, if only to seek revenge for Brighid, but I blame you for her death."
Thompson turned on his heel and left the galley, Pinocchio hot on his heel. Killian listened Pinocchio's furious tirade until he couldn't hear him anymore. Hot shame flooded him and the ever present guilt flared as he stared unseeing at the space where Thompson had been standing.
"Killian?" Emma's voice was quiet as she moved in front of him.
"This is a right mess isn't it Swan?" He said with a choked laugh.
"He's hurting, he didn't mean it," she said vehemently.
"The thing is, I think he did."
Emma didn't try to refute him. Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. With a shuddering breath he dropped his chin to the top of her head, taking comfort in her embrace.
"We need to tell him, and Pinocchio, they have a right to know," he said, sighing.
"About us or my magic?" she whispered, they were too close to the open door for her to speak any louder about it.
"About everything really. It's time we put all our cards on the table before we get to Sherwood."
"Will you tell me, why you were against going there?" She asked shifting her head to look up at him.
"I will, later, but first I believe we have some packing to do," he said sadly, pulling back but grabbing her hands in his. "Consider my quarters yours, Swan. I'm sure there's an extra berth in the crew's quarters that I can use for the remainder of our voyage."
"Don't be stupid, you'll stay in your cabin and so will I," she said shaking his hands a little.
"No, love, it wouldn't be-"
"If you say proper I'll make sure the crew bars you from their quarters and you'll have to sleep on deck. You don't seem to have a problem with me sharing a cabin with Pinocchio," she said accusingly.
"Not that I've voiced," he grumbled but she seemed to hear him perfectly.
"Then this works out for everyone. Thompson gets his space to get his head back on straight, Pinocchio will stop trying to strategize my ear off at night, and you can stop imagining what things might be happening between me and my oldest friend in the dark of night. Now you can imagine what things we'll be doing in the dark of night," she said brightly.
"Swan!" He spluttered a warm flush working its way up his neck.
"Relax sailor," she gave him a small but heartfelt grin. "I don't pillage and plunder until I've been properly courted first."
"Such brazen words for a princess, love," he groaned.
"Pirate," she teased, squeezing his hand.
"My pirate princess it seems," he murmured pulling her back towards him.
"Yeah, I like the sound of that," she hummed.
"Good."
As he dipped his head to kiss her he let his worries slip away. It was a moment for them, a small bubble where they could just feel and be. Their troubles would still be there when they parted but they would face them, together.
A.N.: So things are looking up but also looking grim for our heroes. And before you, lovely reader, get all angry at Thompson just remember how well Killian did with Milah's death on the show. Considering Thompson didn't call a mutiny I think he's handling it pretty well.
Next: Sherwood Forest and a Merry Man that's not quite the adorable hobbit child we know and love anymore.