Hello readers (she says, grinning a devilish grin. Hell, I might even be quirking an eyebrow): Sorry to rip your heart out on that last one, but you know me - I'm big on the feels. I promise, this chapter will have some fun to counteract that. Before it gets intense again, of course. What can I say? Killian brings out the best and worst in me. Thank you, all of you, for reading despite the rollercoasters I make you ride.
And thanks to all of you who jumped on my blog to read the OUAT reviews - I'm having fun writing them! Expect another one on Monday!
And finally, one last little bit of news: I've already figured out the plot for the next fic - and again, this is a Captain Swan adventure, featuring supporting performances from the good people of Storybrooke and the EF. I do plan to write a Gemini story at some point, but I can't decide if I should chapter it out in one long piece at Captain's Choice (like I did with Gareth and Anna) or turn it into its own story. Thoughts?
But enough about my writerbrain. Let's get back to the story, which takes place now in a rather familiar-looking tavern...
Killian pressed his hand hard against the wooden surface, trying to come to grips with his untimely demise. He drew in a breath, and then another one, grateful he could do so and was no longer feeling the snap of his ribs beneath the crushing weight of bus tires. He sat a moment, trying to clear his swimming head, and realized that he was, in fact, sitting. There was noise all around him, and the smell of wine and food teased his nostrils.
"Captain?"
He opened his eyes slowly, only to see a pair of firm breasts, encased in a white blouse and sitting above a corset. They didn't look familiar. He moved his eyes up to meet her face, and was still coming up blank.
"It's your roll," she said, putting a pair of dice in his hand. He gave them a toss onto the table, and she laughed, a bit too loudly and in a way that was more than a little grating.
"That's the way to do it, Cap'n!" shouted one of his men, who was sitting on the other side of the table.
"Oh, you've quite undone me with that roll!" the unfamiliar woman said, batting her eyes coquettishly. "How ever shall I work off what I owe?"
He forced a smile, but before he could form the words to brush her off, a hand reached out, taking the dice from the table.
"So...what're you boys drinking?"
Killian's head snapped up in surprise, and his mouth fell open at the sight of her perfectly presented breasts overflowing her corset.
"Do you want to join the game?' he asked, smiling up at her.
"I was hoping we could have a drink," she said, giving him a look that set his blood surging through his veins, hot and heavy. He turned to his companion.
"Apologies, lass," he said, giving her a smile but his eyes weren't anywhere but on Emma, "But I have a previous engagement."
The girl flounced off in a huff, and his crewman, after receiving an affirming nod from his captain, ran after her, hoping to do some consoling. Emma slid into the girl's seat.
"So." She reached for the bottle of rum, pouring them each a drink.
"So." He mimicked, picking up his drink and clinking it to hers. "Did it take you long to find me?"
She reached down, touching his hook with light, caressing fingers. "You're easy enough to spot," she said, with a mysterious smile. "The infamous Captain Hook is known all over the realm."
He tossed back his drink, setting the cup down. "Yes, I suppose I am. What about you? Did you see our friend?"
She looked at him oddly. "Our...friend?"
"How long have you been here?"
"I've been working here at The Stag and the Hound for over a year," she said. "And what friend are you talking about?"
He looked at her, nonplussed, the slow realization dawning on him. This wasn't someone else's dream - it was Emma's. He broke into a slow, sexy grin.
"Let's have another drink," he suggested. "And perhaps later we could...extend our plans."
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, tilting her head as she poured.
He reached out, taking his drink. "I was thinking...a picnic."
"A picnic? Is that...normal for a pirate?"
"It is if I have a lovely companion," he said. "Just don't vanish on me, love."
Emma's hand stopped halfway to her drink, and she blinked hard a few times. "I'm dreaming."
"It would appear so, love." He poured himself another drink. "I really wasn't expecting to meet my nameless bar wench again."
She sat back against the wall, reaching for her drink. "What can I say? I was intrigued."
"Oh, so he intrigued you. I was knocking myself about, traipsing through jungles and fighting off witches for you, but he intrigued you. A drunken pirate." He tossed his drink back, clearly annoyed.
"A drunken, playful pirate," she reminded him. "And up until then, I'd only kissed you once. I had no idea what I was in for."
"It's nice to know I acquitted myself well," he said, leaning in until his lips were hovering above hers. "What say we skip getting drunk and go straight to the ship this time?"
"I think that sounds very...interesting. What did you have in mind?"
His eyes darkened, and he rubbed his nose against hers. "It's your dream, love. I'm only along for the ride - if you'll forgive the expression." He kissed her, his lips lingering on hers and the tavern faded into the background as she felt herself melting into his welcome familiarity, his singular pull that made her feel things in ways she hadn't felt before. He moved away at last, reaching out to stroke the side of her face with his thumb.
"So beautiful..." he murmured.
She smiled at him. "So are you."
He gave a quiet laugh.
"What?" she asked.
"I know you hate the corset, love," he said, his eyes moving downward with blatant appreciation, "But it really does show off your...features...to their distinct advantage." He stood, helping her to her feet. "Still, I'm happy to liberate you from it at your earliest convenience."
"I'm sure you are," she smirked. "Let's hit the dock."
They made their way through the crowded tavern and out the door, standing on the dock with the night breeze whipping around them.
"Come along, love," he said. "Let's get you out of the cold and warm you properly."
He'd just put a hand to the small of her back to guide her when a shout broke out behind them, and the sound of feet pounding down the dock had them both whirling to turn around.
"That's them," said Morpheus, standing at the far end of the dock. "They're the fugitives. The queen wants them executed on sight."
"What the - " Emma barely had time to express her confusion before they were on them. Killian managed to get his cutlass drawn and shoved Emma behind him, fighting as hard as he could, but in the end, there were just too many of them. He took two direct sword thrusts to the belly and one to the chest before going down, and the last thing he saw was the blood spraying down as Morpheus slit Emma's throat.
###
Emma fell to her knees, not even registering the softness of the ground beneath her. Her hands went instinctively to her throat, and upon the realization that it was unharmed, and she was breathing, she fell forward, pressing her cheek into the sand.
Sand.
She opened her eyes. Where the hell was she? She lifted her head, then pushed herself up to her knees and looked around. She was somewhere tropical. Palm trees were everywhere and coconuts littered the shoreline. The water was crystal-clear and she could see nothing but ocean for miles. It was blazing hot, and something funny teased her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose.
She pushed herself up to her feet as a blast of heated air blew her hair into her face. She turned into the wind, pulling the strands out of her eyes, and then her jaw dropped.
The volcano stood in the distance - but not nearly far enough in the distance - belching a steady stream of lava, rolling down the side of it, and heading right for her. She looked around wildly, then began running up the shoreline. If she could get far enough away, perhaps the flow would miss her. She could feel the heat of it hitting her in waves on the breeze, and it's winding path through the jungle was easily traced as trees fell or burst into flames.
She rounded an outcropping of rocks and skidded to a halt at the sight of Killian, running toward her.
"Swan!"
"Killian!"
"Run! Emma, run!" he raced up to her, panting. "We've got to run - the lava has taken out everything that direction. Run!" he reached out to grab her arm, trying to urge her back the way she came. She dug her heels in.
"It's no good that way, either," she said. "The lava's working its way toward the beach."
Killian turned in a circle, then looked up at the outcropping of rock. He ran for it, pulling himself up and finding a toehold so he could climb. He reached the top, and stood, shading his eyes with his hand.
"Anything?" Emma asked,
Killian looked out helplessly into the jungle. The lava was coming down in an almost perfect semicircle, cutting them off on both sides. Animals were fleeing the jungle for the beach, birds flying out of the trees as they fell in the lava's path. There was no way out but the sea.
He climbed back down.
"Well?" Emma asked, looking around.
He shook his head, wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm. "We're cut off in both directions. Our best hope is to get up on the rocks, and hope the flow isn't deep enough to engulf them."
"And then what?" Emma asked. "We'll be stuck - no food, no water..."
"It's a lost cause," Morpheus said, stepping out from behind the rocks. "The heat from the lava will cook you alive on that rock."
"What are you doing here?" Emma moved toward him.
"It's my dream," he said blandly. "I've become quite adept at this. I can recognize my own dreams and move freely within the dreams of others. It's a skill that I'm sure you'll be longing for in another few minutes."
"You brought us here? Why?" Killian demanded.
Morpheus smiled. "Why, to kill you, of course. Only this time, it won't be quick, or merciful. It's going to be slow - hours and hours of torturous death upon a rock as the lava rises around you. You'll be praying for death long before it finds you."
"What?" Emma's mind just wasn't comprehending this. "Why kill us?"
"We won't stay dead, anyway," Killian pointed out. "You of all people should know that."
"Oh, I do indeed," Morpheus agreed. "And that is my point entirely. You're in my world, and I won't have you interfering with my plans."
Emma's eyes narrowed. "You mean your plans for Regina?"
"She will be mine," he answered emphatically. "And I'll put up with no more of your attempts to warn her. You have a simple choice: leave me be or suffer my wrath."
"You can't kill us if we kill you first," Killian snarled, leaping for him. He ended up face-down in the sand as Morpheus winked out of sight, reappearing on top of the rocks.
"You're fighting a battle you cannot win," Morpheus said, good-naturedly. "I can control my own dreams - a particular skill I've honed to perfection in my time here. And of course, I can influence the dreams of others. I can turn even the most mundane dream into a living hell for the both of you. Would you like to see Emma at the mercy of a gang of rapists and murderers? And Emma - I can kill off all the people you love. I can torture them, flay them alive, leave them begging you to end them - and put the dagger in your hand for you to do it. Can you imagine that?"
"You're a monster," she whispered.
"No, I'm determined," he answered. "Once Regina is safe within my realm, I don't care what you do. But for now, stay out of my way."
Morpheus clapped his hands over his head, and out of the clouds, a hot-air balloon descended from the sky, a rope dangling from it's basket. He reached out, winding his arm around the rope.
"I can make your time here endless bliss - or endless agony. I'm just giving you a little taste of your alternatives. Choose carefully." He gave them a sickening grin as he lifted off the rock. "Eternity can be a very, very long time."
His words carried back to them on the wind as he ascended, and soon, he was floating toward the horizon.
"Bastard!" Killian spat.
"He's going to kill us. Again and again and again." Emma's eyes were filled with horror. "He won't ever stop."
Killian's head swung up the beach. "We need to get to the rocks," he shouted, pulling her with him.
"Wait," she said, wetting her lips with her tongue. "Wouldn't it just be quicker, to let it hit us here?"
Killian paused, his hook already digging into the rock, ready to climb. "I don't know if I can do that," he answered. "I don't know if I can watch you do that."
"What choice do we have?" Emma's eyes filled with tears. "This is it. We die here, or we die there," she pointed up at the rocks. "And there will take a lot longer."
He took his hook out of the rock, shoulders slumping. The anger burned inside him hotter than the lava that was coming at them. The sheer helplessness of this moment was enough to drive him mad. He could face his own death, but he would never, ever get used to facing Emma's. He turned back, pulling her into his arms.
"Emma," he breathed into her hair. "I've got you, love."
"Killian." She burrowed her face into him, pushing aside his amulet so that she could rest her face against his chest.
"Emma!" He pushed her back. "My amulet - it kept the flames from consuming me in the red room - Rumpelstiltskin said it might have other magical defenses." He reached up, pulling it from around his neck.
"Stay back," he said, then he jogged off down the beach, getting as close to the lava as he could get. He drew back his arm, throwing his amulet as hard as he could into the lava flow.
The result was stunning - the lava cooled to rock on the instant, spreading quickly along the flow, stopping it and freezing it so completely, not even steam escaped.
"It's working!" Emma shouted. "It's working!"
She ran toward him and he picked her up, swinging her off her feet. They stood holding each other, watching as the lava cooled and hardened in a line all the way back to the volcano, which belched a final burst of smoke, and then lied dormant. Killian set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as the relief flooded through him.
And it was probably a good thing they didn't see the tidal wave before it drowned them.