Will be back in Storybrooke in two hours. :)
His grin matches the little face she's inserted into her message, and he doesn't care. Almost biting his lip in anticipation, he throws on his clothes and, as he checks himself in the mirror, just about balks at how wonderful it feels to wake up optimistic. Still a relatively new thing for him. Dreams of Swan writhing and moaning in the bath, looking at his picture, had escalated into dreams of entwining wet strands of hair around his fingers, leaping in to join her, removing sopping wet clothing with as much haste as possible, water spilling out from the sides whenever one of them makes the other one squirm...
And now she's coming home. She would come home the same person she'd been before, only stronger now that she's won her battle with darkness. They can focus all their efforts on the Dark One and the Author and then finally attain a moment's peace.
He dashes down the pier onto the streets on his way to the apartment. He should suggest all of them taking some breakfast together, not just coffee or a dinner to close out the day, but breakfast—starting the day off on a positive note and continuing this rush of hope he feels.
Passing by the diner, he does a quick sweep of the place. His pirate instincts reward him, for the crocodile sits in a booth, just sitting out in the open, with a weaselly looking fellow in Enchanted Forest garb. The Author? Him? That blasted August would have made a more formidable adversary than him. Two cowardly miscreants about to realize people are not the pawns they'd assumed. He really shouldn't stop to gloat.
He really shouldn't.
"Did you hear?" he announces, strolling in, unable to stop smiling.
"This is why I hate this place," Rumpelstiltskin mumbles.
Then you should have stayed gone, Killian thinks, sliding into the booth next to the Author, being sure to nudge him. He makes no effort to scrunch his body, even widening his legs under the table.
"Are you sure this is how you want to start the day—by tangling with the Dark One?" Rumpelstiltskin threatens. Ha. Threatens. Oh, Killian Jones is not a stupid man. He knows the crocodile will slither back into a hiding place and hatch a new plan, content to bide his time until an opportunity presents itself, but for now, he's thwarted. And, if Regina's discovery holds true, he might not last long enough to hatch a new plan.
"Hmm," he snickers. "The Dark One who can't strike back without charring his heart. You're toothless, old dog, so I get to give you the good news. Emma's already on her way back, and guess what?"
He's rather disappointed; the Dark One doesn't share his enthusiasm. He leans forward, completely ignoring the simpering idiot next to him, and silently dares Rumpelstiltskin to look him in the eye. He'd taken his heart to help himself and failed, and now he's failed to take Emma's heart, so the impotent Dark One had better heed his words.
"She didn't turn evil after all. So I get to find my happiness." Literally, he thinks, his scowl on its way to another grin. "And you will never find yours, and for you, never is a long, long time." With something of a chuckle, he pats the Author on the back, on the verge of pitying him if he wanted to bother paying him much thought. You're writing for the losing side, fool. The man probably couldn't even write a decent pay note, let alone a book.
He leaves them and soon finds himself running up the stairs to the apartment, remembering how, ages ago, he'd scrambled up to it before Regina's self-destruct mechanism reduced the town to just another patch of forest. Had he not been absolutely correct? Hadn't his instincts been completely on the mark? He'd wanted to live, hedged his bets that there was more to life than revenge, and now here he is, heart in his body, on the way to see his family, Swan ever closer to coming home.
The door unlocked, he smiles at everyone bustling about, dressed and chattering away. Henry sits on the floor close to the table, reading something to the baby who is sitting in some kind of bouncing seat. He sucks his fist and looks rather content, and with the scents of bacon and potatoes wafting in the air, how could he not be? Breakfast sizzles behind them while Snow parcels cubed pieces of some kind of melon onto plates.
"Hook. We were just about to call you and see if you wanted breakfast," David says, pouring juice into a glass. He sets it on the table and motions for him to sit.
"We're of the same mind today, mate. I take it then Emma let you know she's on her way back?"
"She let Henry know," Snow calls to him, removing some bacon off the pan. "And we let Henry know everything that was going on with her and us. No more secrets for a while sounded pretty nice."
Killian glances over at Henry, so relaxed with his small uncle while still knowing the truth. Gods, he wishes he'd been so understanding at twelve. They should know, for Henry's sake. Surely applying that logic won't lead to Swan's disapproval. After all, he's just passing along pertinent information.
"Lily knows," he says to them, being sure to sit himself in a chair and mumble a thank you when Snow sets a plate down in front of him. They don't answer him, merely exchange a look. "She knows everything we do about her past. The only thing missing was Storybrooke's location, now no longer an impediment." Cocking his head, he bites down on the last word, watching them. Perhaps it's too early in the day, but they remain quiet, contrite even, and take their seats around him without a word.
He's able to stroke her back, savor the sensation of her head resting on his shoulder as they watch Maleficent and Lily meet. The family resemblance is uncanny, but the facial expressions couldn't be more different, Maleficent's joyous tears juxtaposed with Lily's aloof, unreadable features. He fully expects to have to restrain the younger woman, but whether she'll lash out at her mother or the two of that separated the two of them from each other, he's not sure.
"Come on. Are we going to go? Sailing?" Swan whispers to him, wiggling in his arms just enough to tug on the waist of his trousers.
"You want to go now?"
"Before the next big disaster? Yeah." She looks at him as though he's grown a third eye. "We can take Henry to school first."
She's serious, almost bouncing on her heels to go, and with her jacket just thick enough and a hat already on her head, he can't very well say they're not dressed for it. She's barely looked at her parents, and yet he slips his arm around her, smiling when she calls for Henry to come with them.
"What do you think?" he asks her once they're a good ways out on the water. The town, little more than a few uneven gray lines against the horizon, might as well be on the other side of the world, or farther, right now. It and all the problems wedged into it. She stands next to him at the helm, her fingers stretched out but not yet touching the spokes of the wheel. Such a clear day, light blue with just a layer or two of white cirrus clouds, allowing a soft sun to fall down on the water and scatter into a million diamonds.
She doesn't know where to look first, he realizes, biting down a laugh. Her head bobs from the mast to her feet on the deck, to him and back around to the town in a few seconds' time.
"Not bad," she sings, tossing her hair as best she can with her wool cap on. "Is this where you take Henry?"
"Well, I could show you where I take Henry, but then I'd have to kill you," he teases, enjoying this view of her running down the steps and dragging her fingers across the rail. She'd be in the perfect place should the waves grow choppy and make her sick; but on a smooth ride like this, she'd fare far better up with him, as close to him as humanly possible... "Why don't you give it a try?"
She leans backward, her grip on the rail the only thing keeping her from tipping back onto her tailbone.
"You just want to cop a feel," she says with a raised eyebrow. He answers back with one. Heaving a dramatic sigh, she climbs her way back to him, no need to list the similarities of her steering the ship with him driving her car. Squeezing in under his arm, she stands between him and the helm, right where he wants her. He just watches her handle the wheel, neither strength nor storm an issue for her this time.
"Take us further out." It comes out muffled, his mouth against the top of her hat. There's enough wind that the strands of her hair billow back around to him, but he doesn't care. "There you are, Swan. Good enough to sack a galleon."
"That sounds big," she breathes. "So how would I do that?"
"Well, you'd have a man at every gun and load them with a chain-shot." Snaking his arm around her waist, he leans over and kicks at one he has lying nearby. "Just two half-balls joined with a chain. They can take out the masts or the rigging of something large. Might add some fire, just for fun. While your opponent's busying himself with that and wondering how the hell you'd caught up to him so quickly, you'd order a large number of men to swing across and fight the first round. Wait a few minutes..." he trails off, dropping his chin down to burrow into the nape of her neck, smiling at the way her breath hitches. "Then send the second round, going with them this time. You fight the captain and take over. Then the ship, the crew, and whatever's in the hold belong to you."
"That easy, huh?" Gods, the very first time they'd been on the Jolly Roger together, he'd never have imagined she'd want to lean back against him and sigh; nor could he have predicted being able to know she'd close her eyes and just bask in the moment.
"Well, a skilled captain would find it easy.".
She elbows him for that one.
"This is how Ursula's song felt to me," she says so quietly he'd mistake it for a trick of the wind if her back wasn't pressed into his chest. "I mean, we're missing the smells of chocolate and coffee, but this is pretty damn close—sea salt and leather brushing up against my skin."
"H-how do you feel about turning back and docking now?" he asks, shaking, hoping she doesn't ask why. They can't drop anchor here, too shallow, or else there would be no need to go back in order to bed her.
As much as he loves his ship, Killian can't help but grumble a silent stream of profanities in his mind as he ties off the lines. It takes a bloody lifetime to cast off or dock, enough time for him to see Swan pause in her work to take out her phone and look at the screen.
"It's nothing, just my mom. I'll get it later," she calls over to reassure him.
Damn. He can't let them both blow Snow off...seeing as how the town's needed all of them in the past to keep from getting swallowed up by some villain. His hand balls up into a fist and then out again, blood rushing to all the right places, screaming at him to take her to bed—bad form. Snow and David took him in and have changed in demeanor since they first told her of their transgression.
"Swan," he calls back. She runs over to him, confused and glancing back at where she'd tied down the ship, probably assuming she'd erred.
"The Jolly Roger's secured. Will you come sit with me?" He sways to and fro to mask how awkward it sounds to him. "Have a drink?"
Helping her off the gangplank, they meander to the yellow ridge of the pier and take a seat. Letting one leg dangle, he grins at how she scoots close enough to sit between his legs and sends him a coy smile as she does so. She'll be the death of him, to be sure.
"What are we looking at?" she asks once she's comfortable.
"The horizon."
"Is it doing something?" A gull squawks by, a soft breeze rippling the water across the rocks—but not really doing anything, and he's well aware he'd have no luck at all in pushing her to end this feud if it was. That's all he'd need, a wavy sea serpent almost swallowing them whole just when he wanted to make a point.
"Well, I just thought you'd find it calming."
"It is. So is rum," she says, nodding her head at his flask. As you wish, he thinks, handing it to her. The gesture actually settles his nerves a bit.
"Emma, I can tell that your heart is uneasy, and it's my job...well, I hope it's my job to protect your heart...even when no one is physically trying to steal it." Well, maybe it didn't settle his nerves as well as he had thought.
"You don't have to stop me from going after Gold; I'm smarter than that," she states, deliberately, not defiantly. "He didn't turn my heart dark, and I'm not going to fall into one of his traps."
"I'm not worried about him getting to your heart, love. I was talking about your parents."
She groans and shifts her weight onto her arm.
"We talked about this."
"I talked. You walked away." He watches her straighten herself back up, at least hearing him out this time. "I just want to know, is anything going to be enough? Or are you willing to lose them just to spite them?"
He can't imagine living here and having every day filled with strain and avoidance, for that is what it will turn into at the rate things are going.
"Give me back the rum," she groans again.
"They've done a lot of good," he says, watching her take another swig. "Turned themselves into heroes." She swallows it down to argue with him, make the same point she did before, but this part of the discussion comes much easier. "Yes, I know they didn't own up to what they did. But did you ever think maybe they were ashamed? That they wanted you to like them?"
She pauses, considering the idea. "I'd like them more if I'd known they turned themselves around." She flashes him the most flirtatious smirk he's seen in a long time. "I like when people find their good hearts along the way."
Oh, her timing is awful in terms of attempting to butter him up...and it's working in spite of himself. Shrugging off the flattery, he smiles down at the space between them, a small space. He'd known she would try to distract him, too—open book.
"They were trying to protect you, Swan. Twice. Before you were born, they wanted to make you happy, and when they found you again, they wanted to make you proud. Do you want both those to be failures?" He'd gone through the same thing once, when night after night he'd lie awake and dream of what he would be doing if he was in the same world as she was, if she remembered him. He'd hoped what little of his true self he'd had time to show her had been enough to make her want to see more, that she wouldn't consider it beneath her to walk next to him. And then he'd hated himself for hoping. It was living in a fantasy world, wasn't it? Just like she was, only he knew better. He had known he'd never see her again, that he could never travel to a world without magic, and then...then life unfolds in a way that you never saw coming.
He'd had to leave her, returning to the Enchanted Forest while she needed to be with her boy, his hopes for a future with her dashed as irrevocably as David and Snow's had been when they'd feared their precious child would be a thing of evil. And then, after receiving a second chance, one has to tread lightly, exhibit patience and restraint in all areas while still hoping. Always hoping.
And it wasn't unrequited, despite the high walls she'd constructed. She'd hoped for love her entire life, too, and a family. Just one more time, she had to find the strength to take a chance and trust the ones she loved.
"It-it's not that none of that's crossed my mind..." she begins, but a deafening roar in the distance snaps their heads back toward the town.
"That came from the woods," she mutters, scrambling around to her feet. He leaps up and runs to her car. It's routine, but disjointed as it's happening in slow motion and at an unrealistic speed all at once. The car screeches in response and zooms down the road to the nearest entrance to the trails running all through the woods.
"We shouldn't have to go far. Whatever it is should be in sight soon," he says, catching sight of movement across the treetops. A shadowy hooked triangle of some sort rustles the leaves above them. Swan stops the car so quickly they both lunge forward and stay in the new positions, looking up through the windshield at what the form could belong to. The air crackles around them, and for a moment, he hears what could be a strong gust of wind. But it's not. Flames. Flames curl into the air just as a scaly neck dances from behind one tree to behind another.
"Well, I was right," he mumbles. His eyes never leave the dragon, jerking back into his seat when Swan pursues it. It's a fast creature, he'll give it that, weaving in and out of the brush ahead of them until they can only hear it...and then nothing but scorched earth after that. It wants something.
"Come on. We'll be less likely to get roasted out there," is all she says before she slams on the brakes and takes off on foot.
It's not a clearing, but a dragon-made wasteland, smoke still hovering over the dead grass. But what stops his heart is the sight of David bent over Snow, covering the side of her head with a cloth soaked in her blood. Traces of it lie smeared across David's sleeve.
"Mom?" Emma half-shrieks, bolting toward them. She stops right in front of her mother. David's propped her back on a rock, elevating her, but with the cloth in the way, there's no way to assess the injury. On his ship, his policy had been to take no chances when it came to the head. One moment, a deckhand may be swearing up and down that he's fine and swatting away everyone, and then slumping over the rail the next.
"She hit her head. Hard," David says, shifting just enough so Emma can kneel in front of her. They hold Snow's head in their hands, and he's not sure if he can watch her die again.
"No, stay still," he hears Emma order her. With a groan, her mother tries to comply as the familiar scent of magic fills the air, hotter now thanks to the smoke still in the air, but unmistakable. A whoosh of it washes over Snow's head, light closing the wound and wiping away the blood in one movement.
"It's going to take time to heal inside."
"I'm sorry I let you down again," Snow utters so weakly he finds himself leaning forward when he'd meant to keep his distance.
"You didn't."
"No, I..." Snow's eyes dart over to David, an implied "we" in her tone. "...was selfish."
"Yes, you were, but at some point this has to stop." A more blunt approach than he would have started out with, but that's Emma being Emma, he thinks, the corner of his eye still not leaving the bloodstained rag just behind Snow's head.
"Emma," Snow says with more strength. "I'm not ever going to stop trying to protect you, not ever. I don't care what you do or say."
"I know. I need to stop punishing you." Her squeezing her mother's hand tears his eyes from the cloth.
"You do?" Snow asks, tilting her head.
"You're a hero." Emma glances up at her father for a second, her eyes gesturing for him to follow her words also. "If it happened at my expense, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the good person you became, and it doesn't change what you are."
"Which is what?" Snow whispers.
Emma shrugs, giving her that half-embarrassed, crooked smile that usually brings some color into her face. "My mom." She looks lost, but not even for a full second; instead, she glances up at Killian and smiles. He nods, knowing she's found her words, knowing this storm has passed. "You wanted to make me proud, so you li—omitted the truth, which was kind of self-defeating, but human. Cutting you out and trying to hurt you has just made me miserable. Anyway, I miss you, and I forgive you."
There's a shared nod between them, maybe both of them recalling something at the same time, but Snow accepts her daughter's silent invitation and springs up to take her in her arms, the two of them content to just hold onto each other and make up for lost time. He smiles, then looks over at David, who is nodding and smiling right at him.
A/N: Coming up? A fanfic about an in-show fanfic. No worries if that sounds confusing. "Operation Mongoose" is going to be a LOT of fun. Special thanks to OnceSnow for her sublime editing skills. This one needed some help. Also a heads-up that I will be going on hiatus in about three weeks. For practical/artistic purposes, there are some things I will not be posting just yet. I'm as full of questions as the rest of you, and while I hope ComicCon sheds a little bit of light on what we can expect, I still won't be able to do anything with Season 5 until it's about 5/6/7 episodes in depending on its structure and pacing. But I DO expect this upcoming season to be a HUGE one for our good Captain and I think I am going to have my work cut out for me. Thanks, everyone who has read and especially to those who have reviewed.