Chapter 2
A salty breeze whipped against Emma's face as she made her way down the pier towards the towering vessel currently overrun by overly excited preteens. Her own son among them. When Henry had told her that her newest client had agreed to let his class tour his ship, the enthusiasm practically vibrating off him was too much for Emma to negate in order to beg off being one of the needed chaperones. Not that she wasn't curious to see Killian Jones' pirate ship firsthand, it was more the curiosity she held towards the man himself that had her wanting to avoid casual encounters with him. Better to keep things professional. Distant.
Hard to do when the man kept infiltrating her dreams.
Emma shook her head, once again attempting to cast aside the impossible coincidence that the man she knew to be Captain Hook in the nightmare she'd been having since moving to New York shared the same voice with a man who had professed to likening himself to the same literary villain when her son had questioned him about his ship's moniker. Because they couldn't really be the same person. She must have projected Killian's voice into the dream subconsciously, remembering her Hook's voice differently. In her dream, Hook was always screaming at her to run. When she'd spoken with Killian, he'd never lifted his voice above a respectable volume. So, maybe they weren't the same at all?
Of course they aren't. Stop being ridiculous, Emma chided herself, squaring off her shoulders and marching a determined path towards the gangplank. Before her foot could meet the deck, a second chiding came from her scandalized son.
"Mom! You have to have permission to come aboard!"
Emma jerked her foot back and exasperated. "Well, then grant me permission."
"I can't," Henry stated with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not the captain."
Right. The captain. That would be--
"Welcome to the Jolly Roger, love." Seemingly out of nowhere, Killian strutted his way over until he stood no more than a few inches before her, his hand poised to assist her on deck. "You've my permission to come aboard."
Emma took his hand and stepped onto the Jolly Roger. The sails snapped above her while wood creaked below her feet as if the majestic ship was welcoming her alongside its captain. A fanciful thought Emma was ready to toss overboard with the other ridiculous musings of her imagination. Musings that were not at all being helped along by the way Killian's calloused hand felt clasped around hers, or the way his liner rimmed eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners when he smiled and thanked her for coming.
"Um… sure thing."
"Isn't she amazing, Mom?" Henry exclaimed beside her, tugging her other hand and pulling her around the deck.
She could sense Killian hovering close by, not wanting to intrude on Henry's exuberance as he prattled on about gunwales, rigging, and poop decks, but remaining close by to patiently correct or supply information. Emma couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu she had a number of times while touring the grand vessel. The shiver that ran over her when she stood on a certain section of the deck, a heavy weight almost pressing at her chest, momentarily stealing her breath. A surge of determination when she took the helm at Killian's prompting, feeling certain she'd braced herself against the wheel before with this same man beside her. The melancholy that overtook her in the hold which was quickly replaced with a spike of nerves and a sense of belonging.
The only place on the ship that didn't give her nostalgic feelings was the Captain's Quarters. Those feelings were all about the present. Hyper aware that she and Killian were alone for the moment, Henry having run after his friend, Avery, Emma wet her lips and tried to swallow down the swell of nerves rising up from her stomach. It was ludicrous, really. She was a grown ass woman, not one of the twittering girls from Henry's class she'd seen giggling on deck anytime Killian passed by or gave them any sort of attention.
Not that she blamed them.
"So, tell me," Emma said, breaking the awkward silence draping the cabin as she perused the meager possessions of its occupant. "How does one, in this day and age, become the owner of a pirate ship?"
Noting a mournful, furtive glance into the corner of the room, Emma wished she could take the question back when he answered, "I acquired her after my brother's death."
"I'm sorry."
"It was long ago, love. No need to be sorry."
"Still. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to lose someone so close to you."
Killian's brows pinched together and he gave her something of a guarded expression that looked as though it might be tinged with… was it hope?
"How do you know we were close?"
Shrugging, Emma continued to meander about the cabin. "Just a hunch. You kept his ship, and it's pretty clear from the amount of pride I've seen from you while talking about her that she means the world to you. I think that must be because of the connection she has with your brother."
He seemed stunned by her assessment. "Quite perceptive, aren't you?"
"Maybe," she said, brushing off his comment with another shrug of her shoulders. "Or you're just something of an open book."
The stunned expression intensified briefly before he smothered it with a raised brow. "You're one to talk," he said in a muted tone that almost made Emma miss the playful dig.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Crossing her arms over her chest, her own brow jovially cocked in challenge while she attempted to suppress a smile by pursing her lips.
For a moment, Killian looked like he might not rise to the challenge, but then he took a few steps forward, closing the space between them and causing Emma to drop her arms back to her sides. His eyes never wavered from hers, flicking back and forth as he softly imparted, "Perhaps the reason you know my brother and I were close is because you recognize the depth of that loss. That my pain is a reflection of your own. When my brother died, I didn't just lose a sibling. I lost the last member of my family. It was the final abandonment I experienced from the people who are supposed to never leave you. I was left alone. Orphaned... Just as you were."
"How…?" Emma felt the last remnants of breath leave her lungs as she tried to formulate her question. Killian smiled down at her with understanding, no pity evident in his forget-me-not eyes as he brushed a section of her hair off her shoulder.
"Like I said," he murmured. "Open book."
Before Emma could respond, a trampling of thuds came rushing down the hallway.
"Mr. Jones! Is it true you usually have a hook for a hand?"
"Avery!" Mr. Walters admonished from the corridor, entering the room a moment later. "I apologize, Mr. Jones."
"No need," Killian waved off, moving towards his desk and opening a drawer. "Curiosity is a natural state for youngsters. I was remiss in stowing this before the tour began, and it seems some of them caught a glimpse of it earlier."
Emma's heart nearly stopped when he produced a metal hook from the confines of his desk. With practiced ease, he twisted the stiff prosthetic, removing the wooden hand from its brace, and clicked the hook into its place.
"It's much more utilitarian for the toil the ship requires, but it can make others ill at ease. Hence, why I wear the false hand whilst in public."
"Seems kinda old fashioned," Avery stated.
"Aye, well," Killian reached up and scratched at the back of his ear, clearly weighing his words. "I didn't have access to modern prosthetics when I lost my hand. I've adapted to the brace and functionality of my hook well enough that I have no desire to change it."
"How did you lose it?" another boy asked.
Mr. Walters opened his mouth with a reprimand at the ready, but Killian cut him off. "That, lad, is a tale best left for another day."
"Absolutely," Mr. Walters agreed. "It's about time to head over to the maritime exhibit anyway. Let's get out of Mr. Jones' way so he can do whatever he needs to before he joins us. You are still planning on coming to the exhibit, aren't you, Mr. Jones?"
"I'd be delighted," Killian replied.
The tension Emma had seen tighten in his shoulders while he talked about his hand melted away as the kids filed out of the cabin. Her own tensity, however, sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off the hook since the moment he'd pulled it from the drawer. It was as if the compartment contained some sort of a portal into her dreams where he'd plucked the namesake of a villain off her dream Hook's wrist before snapping it onto his own.
They were identical. The hook. The brace. The voice. All identical.
"Swan?" Killian coaxed her back to reality, a look of concern pulling at his features. "You alright, love?"
"I-" She jumped when her phone chimed, then gave him a look of apology before reaching into her back pocket. "Damn," she cursed, reading the text she'd just received.
"What's the matter?" Henry's voice startled her, she hadn't realized he'd remained behind when the other kids left the room.
"Mrs. Q is ill. She can't watch you tonight."
"Mom," Henry whined. "I'm twelve. I don't need a sitter. I can look after myself."
"I'm not arguing with you about this, kid. I'm gonna be out late on that stake out, and I'll feel better knowing there's someone with you."
Who was she going to find with such late notice, though?
"I'd be happy to keep an eye on the lad for you," Killian offered.
Henry's face lit up. "That would be cool! I wouldn't mind hanging out with Killian."
Emma chewed her lip as she considered the man's offer. She'd always been particular with who she allowed to watch over Henry, and she'd only just met Killian Jones. Still, she couldn't shake the bone deep certainty that she could trust him, and with Neal out in the city somewhere she really didn't like the idea of Henry being left on his own.
Perhaps sensing her vacillation, Killian laid out suggestions for her consideration. "I'm going with Henry's class to the Maritime Museum. Mr. Walters extended the invitation as thanks for allowing the class to explore the Roger. Once done, I can see to it Henry has dinner, then we can come here for you to pick him up when you've finished your stake out, or I can wait with him at your place until you return home. Whichever you're more comfortable with."
The pleading look from Henry as he practically bounced on the balls of his feet sealed it for her.
"Okay," she sighed, bracing herself against the tight hug her son launched at her.
"Yes!" Henry cheered. "I can't wait to tell Avery. He's gonna be so jealous."
Henry scampered off and Emma's heart warmed at Killian's smile beaming after him. She really hoped she wasn't wrong about him.
"Hey," she said, grabbing onto his forearm to turn his attention back to her. "There's something you need to know."
"What's that, love?"
Once again, those intense blue eyes were solely trained on her. It was equal parts unnerving and invigorating.
Taking a deep breath, Emma began to share the thing that had kept her up for more nights than she'd care to admit to. "So, a few days ago, Henry's birth father, who he's never met and wasn't even supposed to know that Henry existed, showed up on my doorstep."
Killian's Adam's apple bobbed before he wet his lips to respond. "And you are concerned for your boy's safety."
"I don't think Neal would do anything to hurt Henry, but I-"
"I assure you," Killian interrupted. "Nothing will happen to the boy while he's in my charge."
Releasing a long breath, Emma gave him an appreciative smile. "Thanks." The spooling charge she'd felt in his cabin when they first entered hung heavy once more in the atmosphere around them. Emma could feel the energy prickling along her skin, her whole body attuned to Killian's proximity as the cabin suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate, than it had a moment ago.
The sensible part of her brain, the part that told her to keep a level head when it came to men, ever since Neal betrayed her so devastatingly, screamed at her to take a step back. Literally and figuratively. She didn't have to, though. Whatever spell had come over them, Killian seemed to snap himself out of it first.
"We should go," he said in a strained whisper. "Mr. Walters and the children will no doubt be waiting on me."
"Right," Emma replied, making her way past him towards the door while he exchanged the attachment on his brace. "I'll text you later to check in about Henry. Take him back to my place when you're done with the museum and dinner. He has a key."
"As you wish."
~/~
Killian turned his flask over in his hands. Now that the lad was sound asleep, Killian was tempted to take a fortifying pull from it to help soothe the tension he'd been carrying all day. It probably wouldn't do to have Swan arrive home to find the scent of alcohol on his breath, though.
Reaching over to where his jacket lay draped over the back of the couch, Killian returned the flask to the inner pocket then ran his hand down his face, letting go a deep sigh. The stress of the day hadn't been all bad. He'd enjoyed having Henry's class tour the Jolly Roger, and as precarious as interactions with Emma were at the moment, he'd never refuse the opportunity to be with her. Even if her lack of memory of him cut to the very marrow of his bones.
Her lack of memory tempered with the undercurrent of mutual attraction that had been present in their association ever since she'd tied his lying arse to that tree at knife point made their current affiliation all the more exasperating for him. His promise to Bae when they were still in Storybrooke burned in his gut like a hot coal of guilt, to say nothing of how his vow to Emma whilst they were still in Neverland wrenched around his heart as he used the knowledge of their history to ingratiate himself into her and Henry's life.
Though, it hadn't kept him from thoroughly enjoying the lad's company all afternoon and evening. Still a little spitfire, it had been a joy for Killian to watch Henry with his peers at the museum, to see the excitement in his soulful brown eyes as he soaked up the knowledge the exhibits, and Killian himself, presented to him. Eyes that were the spitting image of his father's, calling up memories of Bae as a boy when the same elation spilled from his brown depths during those early days in Neverland… before rejection and betrayal caused Killian to commit one of his biggest sins; a regret he carried to this day.
Other than his own internal castigation, the only mar to the afternoon had been spying Neal at the museum, watching Henry from afar. The man was none too pleased with Killian's insistence that he leave when he'd gotten a chance to step away from the group and confront his cohort. He couldn't even imagine the pain Neal had to be experiencing, being so close to his son yet unable to reveal himself to him. To watch another man, especially the pirate who had already taken so much from him, enjoy the pleasure of the boy's company, creating a bond that should belong to him. Killian didn't begrudge Neal his contemptuous glares and muttered slights as he walked away, but it wasn't as though the ruse he was employing was any easier on him either.
The jingle of keys against the lock in the front door resonated through the silent dwelling, prompting Killian off the couch to greet Swan as she made her way into the apartment.
"Hey," she called out in a whisper, depositing her bag and keys on the counter before proceeding to remove her boots. "Everything go okay?"
"Aye," Killian replied softly, matching her tone and volume, both of them cognizant of the slumbering boy in the next room. "You've a fine lad there, Swan. We had a grand time."
Tucking her hair behind her ear she took a few tentative steps forward, ones he matched, finding himself before her as they hovered in the dining area.
"I really appreciate you looking after him. There were no problems? No one tried to-"
"No one approached Henry," Killian assured her, weighing his words with practiced ease to ensure everything he said to her was technically the truth. "He was never in any danger."
Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she smiled up at him with gratitude, causing his heart to skip and that guilt to begin churning in his gut once more.
"Well, it's late. I should leave you to get some rest." He turned to collect his jacket, throwing it over his arm before he made his way for the door.
Emma halted him, having moved back to her bag to rummage inside it. "Let me at least give you something for your troubles."
"That isn't necessary, love." He waved her off. "Your boy is no trouble at all."
Pursing her lips together, she seemed reluctant to let him leave. A summation that proved accurate when she asked, "Would you stay and have a drink with me at least?" Procuring a bottle and two glasses from the cupboard behind her, she left him little opportunity to decline.
Not that he was truly inclined to refuse her, good form coming out on the losing end of its battle against his instincts as a scoundrel. Ever the pirate, regardless of how the past year had tried to prove otherwise. He knew he should leave, head back to the Roger where Neal would no doubt be waiting for him, demanding a full report of his time with Henry and Emma. Leave the temptation the woman before him posed; a temptation that drew him in as she poured the dark spirit into the tumblers then offered him one with a raised brow of hopeful anticipation.
"If the lady insists," he murmured, taking the glass from her and noting the flick of her eyes to the bright ink splashed across his exposed forearm where he'd failed to unroll his sleeves when she came home.
Her gaze jumped back up to his before dropping down to the table top as she lowered herself into the dining chair across from the one he was pulling out to occupy for himself. Each took a long sip, and Killian hummed appreciatively at the spicy wash of the familiar libation against his tongue. Placing his glass back onto the table, his rings tapped out a tinkling melody into the oppressive silence that now hung between them as Killian took in Swan's hesitant countenance with a knowing look.
"It's alright, love. You can ask me about it."
Emma's eyes finally met his. She took another sip of the dark rum before licking her lips and innocently shrugging. "Ask about what?"
"My tattoo," he stated, picking up his glass and swirling its contents while giving her a pointed look.
Attention back on the glass now resting on the table, her hands wrapped around it with her thumbs skimming over the rim, she took a moment before quietly asking, "Who's Milah?"
"Someone from long ago," he answered. The memory of this moment playing out atop a beanstalk invaded his mind and brought out the contrast of the undercurrent present during both conversations; similar in scope, but vastly different in their scale of emotion.
"Where is she?"
"She's gone. Passed on, hopefully to a better place."
Emma winced and glanced at him apologetically before muttering, "I'm not a very good conversationalist, am I? Earlier, it was about your brother, now," she gestured vaguely in the direction of his arm, "this."
"I don't mind talking about them," Killian assured her. "Like Liam, I lost Milah a long time ago. I've… I've made my peace with it." The truth of those words released a moment of quiet resignation within him. A part of him would always love Milah, would always wish for her murderer to be held accountable for his actions, but the account he sought now was justice, not vengeance. He'd put that desire behind him when he'd chosen to turn his ship around and be a part of something. Something that might make him a man of honor once more.
"But the wound is still fresh, huh?"
Killian cocked his head to the side, wondering if she were still referring to his pain, or her own. Contemplating for the first time how seeing Neal after all these years (as far as she was concerned) had affected her. "Speaking from experience?"
Emma responded with another swallow of rum, the burn of it pulling at her features. She let go a heavy sigh and leaned back into her chair, arms crossing over her chest in a protective gesture, giving away the vulnerability she was about to share.
"Henry's father," she answered with a nod.
Killian swallowed and shifted in his seat. "You don't have to tell me, Swan," he offered. "I gather his reappearance back in your life has left you rather unsettled, though. I'm happy to listen if you need to talk about it."
A moment passed, the choice she was struggling with evident in her expression. Killian was sure she'd take the out he offered her and lifted his drink with the intent of polishing it off so he could bid her goodnight. The rum hadn't made it past his lips before she began to speak, causing him to set the glass down in order to offer his full attention.
"I met him when I was really young. Young and naive," she huffed with a shake of her head, dropping her arms and leaning forward to wrap her hands around her glass again. "We were both street kids, but I was the only one of us still technically a minor. We pulled odd jobs, petty theft stuff, and looked out for each other. When things got... intimate between us, I thought…"
Her words died away. Killian had to fight to keep his expression from becoming thunderous when she continued on, relaying all that had occurred, the lengths to which Bae had gone to run away from even the possibility of his father finding him - not that Emma knew of his reasons for abandoning her.
"... I was sitting there, in my cell, with this pregnancy test in my hand, wondering what the hell I was going to do when one of the guards brought a package that had arrived for me." She stood and grabbed her keys from where she'd tossed them on the counter earlier. Singling one of them out, she returned to her seat then held it out for Killian to see. "This was inside. The key to the bug I stole when we first met. The one he'd already stolen." A scoff puffed from her chest as she flipped the key over her fingers. "Clearing the title and leaving me the car was the best thing he ever did for me… besides Henry," she finished almost on a whisper.
"I'm sorry, Swan."
Emma shrugged and set her keys down on the table before lifting her tumbler up to take another drink. "Nothing to be sorry about," she stated in the tone she used to deflect her emotions. "Like you said, it was a long time ago."
"Aye. But as you implied earlier, wounds that are made when we're young tend to linger." Killian considered his next question carefully, curious as to what memories Regina might have implanted to fill in the years that Emma believed she'd spent with her son. "Has there ever been someone you were willing to risk such hurt for since Neal?"
Emma shook her head and cast her eyes towards Henry's closed door. "No. It's just been Henry and me. I don't need anyone else." Her attention fell to him once more, her lip caught between her teeth before she reciprocated the question. "What about you? Has there been anyone else you've wanted to take that leap with since Milah?"
Killian's pulse ticked up. "No. no one," he lied, knowing the truth would open a topic he'd be unable to discuss without giving away too much. Swan's brows pulled together, and he hoped she wouldn't call him out for the falsehood, that she'd see it as his way of setting a boundary and simply accept it.
"Well," she started, lifting her glass up and presenting it towards him with a sarcastic quip, "here's to heartbreak."
Killian clinked his glass against hers and they both polished off the remainder of their drinks.
"I should go," he said, getting up from his chair and swinging his jacket over his shoulders. Emma walked him to the door, thanking him again for watching Henry. Killian was over the threshold when he turned to her before she could close the door. "Swan," he murmured softly, "Don't begrudge heartbreak, love. It's something to be thankful for."
"I should be thankful for having my heart broken?" she replied incredulously.
"If it can be broken," he reached out and brushed a piece of hair off her face, causing her breath to visibly hitch, "it means it still works."
Her lips parted as if she meant to respond, but no words emerged. Killian smiled down at her with a soft pull at his lips and bid her goodnight, leaving her to mull over his words.
~/~
"Bugger off! You think I'm enjoying this?"
"You have Emma and Henry eating out of the palm of your hand, don't tell me you aren't relishing that fact."
"I'm not, actually."
"Yeah, right."
Killian's jaw clenched at Neal's caustic tone, the muscle above ticking madly from the way he grit his teeth. "I once told Emma I wanted to win her heart without any trickery," he confessed with a biting edge of his own. "How do you think she's going to respond once her memories are back, knowing I've been playing her all this time?"
"So, you're going back on your word then?" Neal accused him, raising Killian's ire.
From the moment he'd stepped back aboard his ship, Neal has been relentless with his indictments of Killian's true motives in playing the charade of a client, accusing him of using the ruse in order to weasel his way into Emma and Henry's affections.
"I've never hidden my intentions about Emma from you," Killian reminded him. "I told you, I'm in this for the long haul, but right now it isn't about pursuing Emma, it's about getting her and Henry back to Storybrooke."
"And then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"We get them back to Storybrooke, restore their memories, and then what?"
Killian scrubbed a hand down his face and let go a deep sigh. "That's not up to either one of us, mate. Ultimately, that's up to Emma."
Neal didn't seem too satisfied with that answer as he stormed past Killian on his way out of the captain's cabin, headed back to his own bunk in the crew's quarters. Killian's shoulders sagged. He had hoped that returning to this realm, to Emma, to Storybrooke, to that something she had invited him to be a part of, he would be able to fill the void he'd sought to fill for the past year. Be able to reconnect, make amends, and rebuild relationships he'd cast aside in the wake of his grief at being ripped away from the woman he loved.
He'd kept his promise. Not a day had gone by he hadn't thought of her, but he'd thought of others as well. Others with whom he desperately wanted to start again, to have a second chance, to make things right. Now, he feared that when all was said and done, the very things he'd have to do in order to bring about that outcome for Emma would be the very things to destroy his chance at a happy ending.
Maybe the man he had Swan fruitlessly searching for was right. Villains don't get happy endings.
But he'd be damned sure Emma got hers.