The Traffic Jam
CS Genre: AU
Emma took a deep breath and let it out as she took the on ramp onto the highway, feeling the tightness in her chest finally, finally begin to ease. It had been an absolute hell of a week. She'd broken up with Walsh, her boyfriend of several months, who ended up being a world class piece of work. She'd lost one perp, and another had briefly landed her in the ER with a nasty gash on her forearm when he knifed her. She normally had an amazingly thick skin; she'd had to, growing up primarily in the foster system.
But every now and then she just had to get away.
And so it was that this morning she'd packed a bag and headed for the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where her best friend Mary Margaret Nolan lived with her husband David. Though around the same age as she, Mary Margaret and David had always been the closest thing she'd ever had to parents.
Emma felt the tension drain from her shoulders as she thought of the big, homey farm house the Nolans owned, of their adorable little boy, Leo, of their dog Willby, whose antics always made her laugh, of their acres of open farm land. A visit was exactly what she needed to regain her emotional equilibrium.
In fact, to her surprise, Emma found Storybrooke and it's easy, small town feel sounding more and more appealing by the moment. Mary Margaret had been begging her for months to apply for the open sheriff's deputy position, and after the week she'd had, Emma was seriously considering it.
Wouldn't exactly a bad thing to be dealing with more routine traffic stops and small town squabbles than the kind of crap she saw on a daily basis on the streets of Boston.
Whatever she ended up doing she had to, had to get out of the city, even if it was just for a weekend.
Emma rolled down her window and enjoyed the pleasant spring breeze as she sped her way down the road….until forty-five minutes into her drive she suddenly saw brake lights ahead of her.
Emma groaned. A traffic jam. Of course, she'd get caught in a traffic jam. She eased to a stop behind a black Chevy Cruise, and waited for the congested traffic to clear.
Only it didn't.
Five minutes went by, ten, and traffic hadn't moved an inch. A police car sped by in the median…then a fire engine…then an ambulance…then another couple of squad cars. Emma groaned again. Must be quite the accident ahead to require that many emergency vehicles.
Emma clicked the button to turn on her radio and tuned to the local news and talk station, hoping to get some idea of what was going on.
"Traffic's bad out there, folks," the DJ said. "We have an overturned semi—a tanker. Spilled gallons and gallons of gasoline on the road. The driver is said to be in good condition, but the road is a mess. Traffic is backed up for miles as the authorities try to clean up the spill. If you're stuck in that traffic, you better settle in and get comfy. You're not going anywhere for a long time."
Emma banged her head on the steering wheel before turning off the engine. It figured she'd get stuck in the traffic jam from hell. It was only par for the course during this terrible, terrible week.
She tuned the radio to a top-40 station and rested her head against the back of her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. And that's when she heard the tapping at her window frame.
Curious, Emma opened her eyes and peered at the man standing just outside her driver's side window. For a moment, Emma's jaw dropped and all rational though fled her brain.
He was, no question the handsomest man she'd ever seen in her life. Thick, tussled black hair, striking blue eyes the shade of forget-me-nots, lined with kohl, reddish scruff covering his cheeks, straight, white teeth showing as he grinned rakishly at her.
For a moment, Emma was quite sure she'd forgotten how to breath, but then gradually the man's attire caught her eye. Long black leather coat, red vest with a brocaded design, blousy black shirt unbuttoned past the point of indecency (and revealing a delicious thatch of thick, black chest hair), tight black leather pants and large, sturdy boots.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" came flying from her mouth before she could think better of it.
If anything her (rather rude) outburst made his positively sinful grin widen. He took one step backwards and then dropped into a deep bow before shuffling closer to her door. "The name's Hook. Captain Hook, and if you play your cards right, I might take you for a sail on my Jolly Roger."
Emma merely stared at him…and then abruptly broke into laughter. "You spend much time working on that line 'Hook'?"
He shrugged, grin still firmly planted on his face. "One must find some way to pass the time while stuck in horrendous traffic. Gazing at the stunning beauty behind me and thinking of ways to get her attention seemed to work for me."
Emma laughed again. "Wearing that get up, you don't need a cheesy pick up line to do that."
"Hook" hummed noncommittally.
"So, Captain, you got a real name to go behind that moniker?"
"Killian Jones, at your service," he said, extending a hand—his only hand it seemed—for her to shake. "And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"Name's Emma Swan," she said, surprised at herself for giving the crazy stranger her real name. "Mind if I ask you something?"
"Not at all, Swan."
"We're still a good three months away from Halloween. What's with the pirate costume?"
"Why don't you come out here and join me," Killian said in a smooth British accent, "and I'll explain."
"You want me to get out of my car on the highway?" Emma asked.
"As we won't be moving for hours, if the news reports are to be believed," Killian said, "I see no reason why we shouldn't enjoy the lovely weather we're having on this fine day."
For one more moment Emma hesitated. This man was dangerous, very, very dangerous. Oh not to her physical person, of course. She was more than capable of defending herself. No, he was dangerous simply because he was too handsome and charming for his own good. If she wasn't careful she'd end up smitten with her own pirate in shining leather.
Still, maybe a little entertaining conversation couldn't hurt. Emma made up her mind. She'd follow the twists and turns fate threw at her today. Stepping from her car, she joined him on the large skull-and-crossbones throw he'd tossed over the grass along the shoulder.
"Okay," she said, when they were settled, "I have to ask. Why are you dressed like an 18th century pirate?"
"As it happens," he said, "I'm on my way to a gig."
"A gig?" she asked. "You a musician?"
For the first time the smile dropped from his face, and for a moment a look of intense sadness took his place. He took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and then turned back toward her. "I used to be," he said before raising his left arm on which a silver hook sat rather than a hand. "Until the accident a couple months ago when I lost the hand. Freak sailing accident."
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" Emma said.
"Don't be," he said, waving her off. "I've come to terms with it, finally, but it does rather derail my plans to strum my guitar."
Emma was silent for a moment. "So what does your accident have to do with your crazy costume?"
"After I got out of the hospital, I had to figure out what I wanted to do with my life," Killian said. "Tried various odd jobs for a while, but none of them were for me. A couple weeks ago, my brother Liam moved to the states from back home in England. He's the harbormaster in a small town in Maine and he's asked me to come be his assistant. We also have joint custody of a genuine pirate ship—that he insists on calling the Jewel of the Realm, even if I am bound and determined her name is the Jolly Roger. Liam thought it would be a nice introduction to Storybrooke society for me to offer a day cruise around the harbor with a genuine pirate upon a genuine pirate ship. And so here I am."
"Wait," Emma said, "did you say you're going to Storybrooke?"
"Aye," he said, looking at her shrewdly. "What of it, love?"
"Just a small world is all," she said.
"And why is that?"
"As it turns out, Storybrooke is exactly where I'm headed as well," Emma said. "What are the odds of both of us ending up in that tiny Podunk town?"
He waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously. "It seems fate has seen fit to smile upon us, darling, throwing us together so decisively. It would be quite bad form not to take advantage of the opportunity given us."
Emma laughed again. "Do you ever stop?"
"Very rarely," he said breezily. "So, Emma Swan, I've shared my reasons for travelling to Storybrooke. What about you? What brings you to that village?"
"Going to see my best friend," Emma said, glancing aside.
"If you don't mind me asking," Killian said, turning to catch her eye, "why does a visit with your best friend leaving you looking so sad?"
Emma looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes, debating how much to tell him. Finally, the whole sordid tale spilled from her lips.
"And so that was the end of it for me and Walsh, obviously," Emma said. "As usual, he wasn't who he said he was and I got my heart broken."
"I'm rather glad to hear that."
Emma glared at him. "You're glad I got my heart broken? Who says something like that?"
"If it's broken," he said, all trace of teasing and flirtation suddenly gone to be replaced with sincere compassion, "it means it still works."
Emma drew in a deep breath, the organ in question suddenly beating so quickly it felt like it was going to leap from her chest. "Thanks? I think?"
He nodded. "Swan, I've only just met you, but already I can tell with absolute certainty that if this Walsh fellow cannot recognize what a treasure he had in you, he is a fool. You deserve better. You deserve everything."
Despite herself, Emma felt tears well up, and with a little laugh, she reached up and wiped them away. "You sure know exactly what to say to a woman, don't you?"
He shrugged. "You, Swan, seem to bring out the gentleman in me."
Emma heard the sound of engines turning over ahead and realized traffic was about to start up again. She got to her feet and started to head back to her car, but abruptly stopped, turning back toward Killian.
"Killian," she said, "while we're both in Storybrooke, maybe we could grab dinner together or something."
He smiled broadly. "I'd like nothing more. Until we meet again, my lady."
She grinned and hopped back into her car, noting with some surprise that suddenly the tension, all of it was gone. For the first time in weeks since things had started going south, Emma had hope.
And as Mary Margaret always said, happy ending always begin with hope.
Notes:
-Today's chapter was inspired by real life events. The other weekend, I was trying to get to church, and I got stuck in a traffic jam that had traffic completely stopped for a good fifteen minutes at least. After it became clear we wouldn't be going anywhere for a while, drivers started gradually wandering from their cars, striking up conversations with each other, taking their dogs to the shoulder to do their business, all kinds of things. As happens on a very, very regular basis, my first thought was "How can I turn this into a CS au?", lol.
-Up next: I had a request on Tumblr for a deleted scene of Killian going shopping for the engagement ring. I think this one will turn into a Captain Cobra story.