That Bar Wench He Kissed
CS Genre: 2a canon divergence
Note: A good portion of the dialog comes directly from canon. Wish I could, but I can't take credit.
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Killian pulled the large, voluminous cape around himself and then burrowed beneath a pile of corpses, feeling more than a little sick—not at the proximity to death; he'd been a pirate for centuries after all, death was a known commodity, but rather at the thought of what he'd just witnessed.
She'd killed them. Killed them all. Men, women, children, the good and the bad alike, the witch had mercilessly slaughtered them all. Killian was hardly a saint; one did not remain a pirate captain if he were soft, but this level of malice…there were no words.
Cora was bloody terrifying. He played a dangerous game aligning himself with her, but now that he had he'd do best to keep her pleased with him. She seemed content with their alliance for now, but Killian had no illusions. If he were to cross her, he'd end up no better off than the poor sod whose lifeless body currently lay on top of him.
And so after the killing had come to an end, after Cora had ripped out every heart while he stood by horrified at the sight, when she'd presented him with the two magic repelling cuffs for their journey up the blasted beanstalk and then ordered him to glean as much information as he could from a group of determined princesses, he'd never even considered refusing.
"There will be four," Cora had said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping at a bit of stray blood on her hands, "but only two come from the land we seek."
"And how am I to know which two princesses to interrogate, love?" Hook asked, hiding his revulsion of his travelling companion behind his well-practiced smolder and insolence.
Cora rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "If you cannot figure that out, you're a complete dunce, Hook, and you're not worth my time."
That answer had been both cryptic and singularly unhelpful, but as it was clear that no more was forthcoming, Killian had simply nodded and begun plotting his strategy to win the trust of the princesses headed his way.
Playing the victim seemed the most sensible plan, and so after pilfering a voluminous cloak from one of the recently departed, he'd taken up his current location, using the waiting time to create an identity for himself, one with which the women would sympathize.
Hook had no sooner hidden himself beneath the body of a man who smelled as though he'd never seen a bar of soap, than he heard soft footsteps and feminine voices. Time for the ruse to begin.
"Look! There's someone under there!"
A moment later, one of the women offered Hook her hand, and he grasped it. A pulse, almost like electricity, shot from the point of contact straight to his heart.
The hell?
Killian peered up at his "savior", and suddenly felt his jaw drop. Blonde hair, gorgeous green eyes, the face of an angel…
It was HER.
Visions of a night in a tavern filled his mind. A game of dice interrupted by an alluring blonde siren. Drinking and flirting cocooned in a corner. Taking her back to his ship. A series of deep, passionate kisses that shook him to his very core….waking up the next morning, quite alone, with a splitting headache and a steadily blackening eye…
Bloody hell! He'd spent weeks looking for that damn bar wench he kissed, only for her to once again find him. A grin spread over his face. It would seem fortune had indeed seen fit to smile upon him.
The woman pulled him to his feet and then looked up at him, brow furrowed, a suspicious look in her eye. "What?" she asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He gave his head a tiny shake. He felt like a lad standing before the first girl he fancied. Best keep his wits about him. "Apologies, love," he said. "But I feared I'd never see you again."
"Again?" her frown deepened.
"Aye," he answered, noting the other princesses coming to flank her. "We've met before; some thirty years ago in the tavern. I'm quite sure I'd never forget a woman such as you"
"Look buddy," she said, "I don't know what your deal is, but I can guarantee you I've never been in a tavern in Fairy Tale Land, and thirty years ago I wasn't even born yet."
Hook's eyebrows rose. There was no doubt this was the same woman who'd filled every dream he'd had that wasn't consumed with vengeance and heartbreak. There was equally no doubt that the lass believed she was telling the truth. She was quite the open book to him already.
Ah, well, they lived in a land filled with curses and countless methods of erasing memory.
Hook tore his eyes from her beautiful face and took in the rest of her. Her attire was strange—stiff looking blue trousers, a white cotton shirt, a jacket made of red leather, of all things. Was it possible? Was she one of the women Cora told him about? Was…was she from the Land Without Magic where the Crocodile currently resided?
Thoughts of the Crocodile hardened Hook's heart and rekindled his anger. He had a job to do, vengeance to win once and for all, his Milah to avenge. He'd best pull himself together before he gave himself away and lost his chance altogether.
"Apologies," he said, lowering his eyes in what he hoped appeared a subservient posture. "I must have been mistaken. I….I believe I hit my head when the melee commenced."
His statement, spoken with just the right amount of pitifulness seemed to galvanize the princesses into action. The soft one, with reddish-brown hair and a feminine pink gown cooed over him as she helped him over to a bench, the short haired one in odd attire coming to her aid.
Hook's eyes followed his barmaid as she and the warrior princess moved aside and held a hasty, whispered conversation. He'd wager it was the two of them he'd need to keep his guard up toward. They seemed suspicious already, and if Hook didn't miss his guess, neither would hesitate to bury a sword within his chest should they judge him a threat.
After a moment's conversation, the blonde angel returned, setting a tankard of water before him.
"An island full of corpses, you're the only one to escape," she said, her words clearly an interrogation, "How exactly did that happen?"
"She attacked at night; slaughtered everyone in one fell swoop," he said, infusing a tremor in his voice. "When she started ripping out people's hearts, I hid under the bodies of those who had already been killed; pretended to be dead myself. Mercifully the ruse worked."
A quick look of revulsion covered her face. "So much for fortune favoring the brave."
"It was all I could do to survive."
His former barmaid stood considering him for a moment, her face inscrutable. Finally she leaned down toward him, and it was all Hook could do to keep himself from gasping. The move was so very familiar. Memories flooded him yet again. A gorgeous woman, blonde hair flowing free, loosened corset setting her glorious bosom on display, the scent of vanilla and something vaguely spicy—cinnamon?—surrounding her like a perfumed cloud. As now, just as then, she was glorious.
"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," she said in a soft, deceptively gentle voice. "I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me."
Bollocks! Could she read him as easily as he read her? Had his ruse failed already?
"I'm telling the truth," he lied, letting his voice crack on the last syllable as he sent imploring looks in the direction of the soft princess with the bleeding heart. Rage filled him at the necessity of portraying such a weakling. There was very little he abhorred more than those who would cower and grovel.
Still…for a moment, he believed his moment of "vulnerability" worked. His barmaid backed off, stood back and listened as he chatted for a few moments with the other princesses.
He'd just finished offering to lead the group where they wished to go, when suddenly he felt his head yanked back by the hair, a dagger to his throat.
"You're not leading us anywhere until you tell us who you really are."
This woman was bloody magnificent! Hook felt another piece of his heart tumble at her feet as she held him at knife point, as she tied him to a tree, as she threatened to summon the giants to tear him limb from limb if he continued to lie to them.
She'd make a hell of a pirate.
After telling his princess the truth, she'd untied him from the tree, but left his hands bound in front of him, and so their journey had begun.
As Hook slowly began leading the group toward the beanstalk, toward their next adventure, toward the next step closer to revenge, he couldn't keep a small, secret smile from forming on his lips. For the first time in centuries he felt something new. Hope.
Hook had always believed his revenge would be his last act. He'd skin his Crocodile, and then he'd die, finally being reunited with his Milah. But now…now he saw that perhaps there was a second path. Perhaps there was yet a life for him after Rumplestiltskin was dead.
His story with the Crocodile was nearing its end, but his story with that barmaid he kissed 30 years ago was just beginning.
Notes:
-Happy Once day! I can't believe after this week I only have 3 more Fridays to say that! *cries*
-Obviously in canon, Killian didn't remember the bar wench he kissed during Captain Swan's time travel adventure, but I thought I'd take a stab at writing a divergence about what might happen if he had remembered her. For now, I'm calling this a one shot, but the muse has sat up and started sniffing the air. It's possible that one day I'll pull this little guy out by itself and turn it into a longer mc. I'm intrigued by the possibility of following this little divergent thread along to see where it would lead and how things would play out differently if Killian remembered Emma from the first.
-Up next: Time for a season 2b deleted scene! After Gold calls in the favor Emma owes him, getting him to agree to come to New York with him in part by threatening Killian, Emma goes back to the hospital and attempts to put a protection spell over her pirate—something he will probably never let her live down.