Home of the Lost Ones
CS Genre: Canon Divergence (between 3x1 and 3x2)
The rescue party had barely settled in for the (long, interminable) night before the distant crying began. Hook took a long swig from his flask, savoring the spicy burn of the rum. How he hated Neverland! This land with its humid, tepid air, its stifling heat, its aura of menace and evil, its cruel, sadistic overlord was the last place in the known realms he wanted to be. Everything about this realm felt wrong.
What the bloody hell had he been thinking, offering the Jolly and his services to come back here? It was madness!
As the sounds of the lost ones crying intensified, Hook gritted his teeth and took another swig. Had it only been a matter of hours since he'd had a compunction of conscience and returned to Storybrooke with the magic bean in hand? There was something about Neverland that was utterly timeless. Whether one had been on the accursed island one hour or one hundred years, he felt as though he'd been here forever—forced to dwell upon his worst moments, his greatest failures, his most disgraceful insecurities. Hardened pirate he might be, but on Neverland, he felt like naught but that frightened lad who'd woken one morning to find that his father had abandoned him—and not merely abandoned him but sold him into servitude.
Bloody hell! He'd best turn his thoughts before the painful memories drove him mad.
He scanned the clearing the Charmings and the Queen had chosen as their campsite on this first night on Neverland. He was still amazed the heroes had trusted him to take the first watch, amazed that they'd put so much faith in a villainous pirate.
A nearly forgotten sea of emotions burned in his chest—gratitude, a desire to live up to expectations, a stirring of that old heroic sense of good form he used to hold so dear. He hardly knew what name to put to the emotions churning within, but he knew one thing. He didn't want to disappoint the heroes; he didn't want them to believe their faith in him was misplaced.
He scanned the motley group, peaceful in slumber, and in due course, his gaze landed on her. Swan. Easily the most fascinating woman he'd met in the last few centuries. The most fascinating woman he'd met since Milah. The pain settled once more over him like a familiar cloak at the thought of his beautiful pirate lass, the woman who had been brutally murdered and taken from him far too soon.
But the pain was lessened somehow. More and more his dreams and imaginings featured a determined lass with hair the color of spun gold, flashing green eyes more courage and determination than the toughest pirates he'd come across in his days on the high seas.
A slight frown marred her lovely face in sleep, her dreams obviously troubled, and Hook's mind suddenly went back to that moment mere hours ago when she'd nearly been lost. Nothing could have prepared him for the panic that set in as she'd jumped overboard…and then failed to resurface. Nothing could have prepared him for the relief when she'd finally coughed and breathed after her father had pulled her back on board.
It made him vaguely uncomfortable, the implications of those thoughts.
Oh, aye, she'd fascinated him since the moment she'd appeared before him in the safe haven, since the moment she'd pulled him from the pile of bodies he'd been hiding beneath. Every subsequent moment he'd spent in her presence he'd become more and more captivated by her beauty and fire.
But being captivated by a lovely and spirited lass was one thing; becoming as utterly smitten as he was becoming was something else entirely. If the truth be told, he'd spoken the truth in that moment they'd first washed up on the sandy beaches of Neverland. He did fancy her. (Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he spoke a partial truth. He fancied her whether or not she was yelling at him.)
Guilt rose up and punched him in the gut. It felt like a betrayal of his sweet Milah to even think such thoughts. Oh, he'd taken his fair share of lasses back to his ship over the long years since his love's death. They'd been more than happy to care for his…needs. But never did it go beyond the physical; never did any of the wenches approach his heart. (Except perhaps that one, half-remembered lass. The one who'd been very deliberate about getting him drunk before accompanying him back to the Jolly. There'd been something about her…something fascinating, something that had called to him in a way far stronger than his baser desires. Come to think of it, he may only have the barest recollection of the woman, but he'd swear that dream wench also had hair of spun gold, hair that smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and all things exotic and delectable.)
But Emma…Emma was different. He wanted to know her, really know her. Dangerous waters he trod here, to be sure.
As though summoned by his thoughts, the lass herself stirred, and then sat up abruptly, her head twisting this way and that, panic evident on her features.
"Who's there?" she asked. "What's that noise? Who's crying?"
"It's merely the lost ones, love," Killian said softly, remaining resolutely seated against his tree. She turned startled eyes in his directions.
"What?" she asked. "Why are they crying? Why doesn't anyone else seem to hear them?"
Hook looked down at her with compassionate eyes. "They cry for the reason all abandoned children do. They wish for the families they've lost, the families they never truly had. As for why no one else seems to hear them…only those who have been abandoned and left on their own can hear the cries of the lost ones."
She looked startled for a moment, and then a look of angry determination settled over her lovely features. Getting to her feet she made her way to him, finally settling beside him on the ground. "Got any more of that rum you'd be willing to share. I feel like I need a little liquid fortification."
Wordlessly, he extended his flask to her, swallowing hard as he watched her tip her head to take her drink, her tongue darting out to lap at the stray drop that had escaped the bottle. She drank deeply, recorked the bottle, and then handed it back to him. Hook read the fear and anguish in her eyes as her gaze briefly met his.
"This is unbearable, Hook," she said softly, "this…waiting, not knowing, worrying, my son prisoner of who knows what kind of psychopaths. I feel like I'm going to go crazy just…sitting here. I need to be up, looking, walking, something. What if Pan did something terrible to him? What if he's being tortured? What if he's already dead?"
Without thinking, Hook reached out and took her hand, needing to comfort. She looked up at him, clearly startled, but she didn't pull away. "Swan, I may not know your lad well, but I've seen enough to know of his courage, of his determination, of his unflagging optimism. He seemed a lad capable of keeping his wits about him even in the worst of circumstances."
"You really think so?"
"Aye," he smiled slightly. "He's got you for a mother. How could he fail to inherit your admirable qualities?"
If he wasn't mistaken, that was a faint blush that came over her cheeks. "Th…thanks. I just…I just can't stand the thought of him out there alone and scared, thinking…who knows what he's thinking. I just feel like I'll crawl out of my own skin if I don't start searching again soon."
Hook extended the flask again, and she wordlessly took it. "I know the feelings of helplessness can be well-nigh overwhelming, but you must get your rest. You'll be of no use to your boy if you drop from fatigue and exhaustion."
She looked at the ground, sighing. "I know you're right, it's just…falling asleep, getting that rest is easier said than done."
He'd been able to read the lass like an open book since the moment he'd met her, and he knew full well what she needed now—something else to focus on. Perhaps a bit of his rapscallion charm was in order; better she roll her eyes at him in irritation than worry as she currently did. Hook pasted on his most suggestive grin. "Oh darling, if it's trouble sleeping that's bothering you, I'd be delighted to offer my services. I've a nearly endless supply of ideas to…ahem…tire you…ways that I assure you would be most pleasurable for us both."
She huffed and rolled her eyes, the tiny hint of a grin on her lips. "Do you ever stop with the innuendoes?"
"Not if I can help it, love. So what do you say about those more enjoyable activities?" He quirked a teasing eyebrow in her direction.
She barked out a laugh. "Keep dreaming, buddy. Think I'll stick to the rum."
He grinned, extending the flask once again. "I'll manfully attempt to contain my disappointment."
He was surprised how easy, how pleasant, how perfect it was to flirt with this woman. She was bloody brilliant.
She was also a desperately worried mother who needed her sleep.
"Well, if you won't accept my offer of activities that would make you forget your own name with the pleasure of them, perhaps I might interest you in a story."
"A story?" she eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of a story?"
"There's not much I recall about my father…particularly not much that is pleasant," he began, looking away, "but there is one thing. I remember him coming to me when I couldn't sleep. I remember him spinning the most fascinating tales. Whether true or not I neither know nor care. All I know for certain is that without fail, as his soft voice spoke of travels and wonders and adventures, I invariably drifted off. Perhaps you'd permit me to do the same for you?"
She was quiet for a long moment, and then she nodded her head. "Sure, why not. Does Captain Hook have any daring, swashbuckling stories for me?"
"Indeed I do," he said with a grin. "If you would, return to your sleeping pallet and settle in comfortably. Aye, that's the ticket."
She did as instructed, and then turned curious eyes in his direction. Hook spun a tale of adventure, intrigue, humor and bravery. Slowly her eyes became heavy and began to close. He finished his tale as her breathing began to even out into sleep. Quietly he began to move away—back to his seat under the tree—when her eyes opened once more, arresting him with their beauty. She reached out, taking his good hand and squeezing gently. "Thanks Hook. That…helped."
"It was no trouble, Swan," he said, squeezing her hand in turn before she pulled away. "And fear not; we will find your lad and we will save him."
She nodded, and then closed her eyes, finally relaxing into peaceful slumber. Hook had the strongest urge to brush her hair back from her lovely face, to lean in and kiss those beautiful lips.
But that would be bloody madness. Best he guard his heart and avoid such fanciful nonsense. Regardless of what connection he might feel to the fascinating woman before him, Milah was his love, the only love he'd ever have in his life.
And besides, he was fairly certain Swan would never deign to accept a kiss from him. Best he guard his heart before it was broken for the second time in his life.
Notes:
-Happy Friday once again!It's been really cold and snowing in my corner of the world over the past week, so what better way to warm up than to return to the humid jungles (and sizzling CS sexual tension) of Neverland?
-If you couldn't tell, this story takes place on the gang's first night on Neverland.In this canon divergence, when Emma wakes that first night it's Hook rather than Pan that she comes across (far preferable company if you ask me, lol).I like my canon divergences to stay reasonably close to canon.I basically take the CS movie as my model:In the divergence things happen differently, but they basically all work out similarly in the end.In this particular version of the Neverland story, after Emma went back to sleep, Pan appeared to Hook and gave himthe map he gave Emma in canon.Still the same deal.The map will appear when Emma acknowledges who she really is.Everything else in 3x2 and onward transpires the same as canon.
-Up next:I'm not entirely sure.I've got plenty of prompts/ideas waiting to be written, but there's nothing specific I'm planning for this week.What genre would you like to seen next?Deleted scene? Another canon divergence?An AU?Something from the near future when CS is alive and back in Storybrooke after the Underworld ordeal?Lieutenant Duckling?
-Btw, I'm getting ready to get started on a new 5b speculation multi-chapter.I've been wanting to write another long story along the lines of "A Wish Your Heart Makes" or "Mysterious Fathoms Below" (33 and 30 chapters respectively) for a while now, but the storyline going into the last couple of hiatuses just didn't inspire the muse.This Underworld storyline does!I've got a few plot points to try to figure out yet, but if you're interested, the first chapter will probably be up sometime next week.