Chapter 5 - Milah.
Emma knew this was possibly a very bad idea.
It wasn't any news by now, of course — if you could trust Emma's heart with anything, it'd be with making terribly poor decisions.
There's a pang of fear shooting through her stomach as Emma led Autumn out of the stables, wondering what might just happen if anyone came to pay her a visit in her chambers that evening; expecting to find her on her bed, fast asleep or maybe reading a book, only to find...
No, they wouldn't be finding anything. That was why she'd taken so long in leaving; pretending to go up to her room after dinner, only to silently make her way out of the castle a few moments later. If things played out the way she hoped them to, her parents would have no reason to check out on her that night — and they'd be fast asleep in their chamber by the time she returned.
Emma rode through the castle's grounds, slowing down the pace and halting as she arrived at the gate. A single man stood right in front of the large gate doors, dressed in her kingdom's colors.
The man remained firm, apparently unfazed by her presence.
"Good evening," she softly said.
"Your highness," he greeted back, and despite she couldn't see his face through the helmet, she sensed surprise and curiosity in his voice.
She was almost certain by the sound of his voice that this was the same guard from a couple of nights ago; something she wasn't too thrilled about. He'd already caught her sneaking back into the castle, and the last thing she needed now was for him to catch her sneaking out.
She played it cool, though. "Might you open the gate doors for me, now?"
She could perfectly picture him squinting his eyes under his helmet at her; eyeing her suspiciously, wondering what she might be up to.
"I don't believe it's a good—" he began, careful yet firm, and Emma couldn't help but groan in exasperation.
"It doesn't matter what you believe," she quickly cut him off, a bit harsher than she'd intended. She was already running late and this — this wasn't something she needed right now. However, she immediately felt bad about it, and added carefully, "I'm sorry. I just need to be somewhere else."
He hesitated for a moment. "The king and queen will not be pleased, my princess."
"Well, I'm not telling the king and queen – will you?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him, a slight playful smile on her face.
The guard shifted nervously. "If you don't wish me to, then I won't."
"Good."
He seemed to watch her, in yet another moment of hesitation, before moving around to open the gates.
"Will you be returning?" he wondered out loud, pushing one of the large doors open for her to pass.
The question threw her aback.
"What?"
"Forgive me if I'm being intrusive," he quickly chimed in, turning his head to watch her before moving on to the other door.
Emma shook her head.
"I'm not running away if that's what you believe."
"Right, I — um," he sounded nervous. "It's just —"
"Me sneaking out of the castle all by myself at night, and asking you to keep quiet about it is a bit sketchy?" Emma guessed, a slightly amused smile on her face.
"A little," he chuckled under his breath. "I was terrified for a moment there — two months in, and I already end up being the one guard who allowed the royal princess to run off from her home."
Emma raised a questioning eyebrow.
"You're new here, huh?"
He nodded. "Youngest member of the royal guard as well," he explained with a shrug. "So, you see why I might need to be a bit more careful, your highness."
"This'll be our little secret, then," Emma reassured him with a kind smile, and nodded at him as both doors were open, leaving the path clear. "Thank you."
However, the young man stayed on the bridge, still doubtful.
"Do you wish for me to accompany you, at least?"
"Aren't you supposed to be guarding the gates?" Emma questioned back at him.
"I am, milady — but making sure you're safe is more important than my assigned duties," he quickly responded.
"There's no need. You can stay here," she told him, and, noticing he was about to reply, she quickly added, in a stern voice: "It's an order."
Emma heard him sigh in defeat, before stepping aside; allowing her to move forward. A slight smile showed on her face; because while she'd probably wasted a bit more time than she should've, she'd thought the small chat with the guard had actually been nice. He…
A realization made her halt, and her horse had only taken a few slow steps into the bridge before she'd stopped, turning around slightly to address the guard.
"Forgive me, sir, but I do not know your name."
The guard seemed to freeze in his place, watching her incredulously. He cleared his throat.
"I didn't expect you to, your highness."
"Well?" she urged him on after a couple of seconds of silence.
"I — um — Tom," he stammered, shifting nervously once more. "It's Thomas, my princess."
A grin appeared on her face. "Pleasure meeting you, Tom. And thank you."
Even though they'd agreed to meet up by dusk, stars filled the night sky by the time Emma reached the pub. She was late — obnoxiously late, and she was very aware of the possibility the person she'd be meeting could've already left, tired of waiting for her. She deeply hoped that wasn't the case.
She knew exactly where to look as she made her way into the pub, eyes heading right away to the corner where they'd sat a couple of nights before. And she didn't need to look anywhere else, a breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her lips as she caught a glimpse of the leather-wearing pirate.
"Hook," Emma called, as she walked towards the table, wondering how long he had been sitting there. A couple of glasses were set on the wooden surface, along with a bottle of rum – which, she had to repress an amused grin as she noticed, was already half empty. What was it with pirates and drinking?
She guessed he'd be annoyed by her impunctuality; yet she found herself surprised as Killian's eyes shot up to meet hers, a mix of thrill and relief in his eyes. He showed her a full-on grin as soon he saw her, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.
"Ah, finally," Killian spoke with a sigh, watching her as she sat in the seat across from him. "I was starting to believe I'd been royally stood up — pun intended."
Emma shot him a serious look, rolling her eyes at the comment.
"I'm sorry about that," she responded, giving him an apologetic smile. "I tried to be here as soon as I could."
"What took you so long, lass?" he inquired, curiously.
Emma let out a sigh, leaning back into her seat. "I had to be sure my parents wouldn't notice my absence. It took a bit longer than I'd anticipated."
"So, the king and queen don't know you're meeting me here, huh?" Killian asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I didn't take you for the rebellious type, Swan."
"Yeah, well, I don't think they'd be pleased to find that their sole daughter is out to meet with a pirate," she responded, getting a chuckle from Killian in response. She then added, "I'm sure if they learn I'm out here drinking with you, they'll forbid me from ever leaving the castle again on my own."
"A tad overprotective, aye?" he asked.
"No – no," Emma was quick to say; however, she cut herself off, watching as he raised an eyebrow at her, making it clear he could see right through her. "I mean, yeah. A bit. They're just scared."
"That someone like me will harm you?" he teasingly wiggled his eyebrows at her, and Emma shook her head.
"It's far more complicated than that."
"Ooh, do tell, love," Killian spoke, leaning against the table like the conversation had taken a sudden, interesting turn. "I've been dying to learn about you."
She didn't really understand why. It baffled her, why the captain had taken such an interest in her — watched her like she was an unresolved mystery, despite him always claiming she was sort of an open book.
"I haven't even had my first sip, and you already want me to start 'fessing up to you?" Emma said with a snort.
Killian let out a chuckle and wasted no time in placing a cup in front of her. "Well, go ahead," he dared her. "Nobody's stopping you."
Her fingers wrapped around the small glass, and she carried it up to her lips. She allowed a large sip of the drink to pour down her throat and wrinkled her face slightly at the taste. It wasn't as bad as the first time, but still, it was far from being her favorite drink.
Leaving the glass down on the table, Emma hesitated for a second, pondering on whether she should answer his questions. Despite her feeling like she could actually trust him with some information about herself, she doubted he could possibly understand — he was a pirate, after all, living the life of a free man, doing whatever he pleased whenever he pleased.
Overprotective parents wouldn't ever be something Captain Hook could relate to.
Still, perhaps she could use just a moment of venting out.
"Things around here were pretty awful, back when my parents just married," she slowly began her story, leaning her arms on the wooden table. "It was a constant war between my parents and my mom's stepmother, Regina — the evil queen. She had this sort of… personal vendetta against my mother, because of some secret she spilled back when she was just a child. So, she threatened to destroy my parents' happy ending, even if it were the last thing she did.
Killian watched her intently as she narrated the tale, and she sighed.
"Nobody really knows what was it that she planned. From what I've heard, something truly terrible. My parents stopped her before she did anything — but just before they could imprison her, she just vanished," she continued explaining. "Poofed herself out of existence, apparently; as not one soul has ever seen her since. Some say she's lost her power. Some say she just gave up on her vengeance altogether. What matters is, we've been at peace for over eighteen years. And still, my parents…"
"Aren't too sure about that," Killian concluded, and Emma nodded in response.
"They think it's sketchy. They believe she's still out there, making plans to fulfill her revenge — and she's just waiting for the right moment to strike."
"And what do you believe?" He watched her curiously.
Emma hesitated for a moment. "I… I think she's been away for nearly two decades. Maybe she's moved on — maybe we should too."
Killian seemed thoughtful, and Emma saw something dark briefly flash through his eyes. "I wouldn't believe she's moved on, lass. Twenty years of waiting are nothing to a vengeance-filled heart."
The fact that she could easily guess he was speaking from experience made her look away for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
Right — she'd forgotten he was too part of the vengeful, bitter, maybe soon-to-be homicidal crew.
Emma cleared her throat. "Point is, my parents believe she will stick to her former promise of taking away their happy ending. And, according to them, I'm a great part of their happy ending. Meaning, she possibly has me as her target," she pursed her lips together. "So, they prefer me being all locked up in my castle. Going out to the real world — alone, might be too dangerous for me."
She shrugged, trying not to make such a big deal about it; not show how much it truly bothered her.
"Well, I wouldn't worry that much if I were them, lass," Killian reassured her, and Emma's eyes shifted to find him grinning at her, before taking a large sip of rum. "You might as well be the toughest princess I've ever met."
For some reason, it outdid any compliment she could've ever gotten from any of the princes that courted her, and she looked down for a moment to try to hide the smile that fought to break through her lips.
"Oh, so you've met many princesses before?" Emma tried to shift the conversation quickly, asking in a teasing manner, with an eyebrow raised at him.
"Why, of course. Plenty of them, actually, lass—"
"—so, my dad barges in, finding me and my lady-in-waiting — who, by the way, is trying to clean up vomit off of my nearly passed out body—" Her story is interrupted by a fit of giggles. "and he just looks at us with a dead serious face and then—"
A laugh shakes through her body.
"—she just stands up, shaking from head to toe, and says: No need to worry, your highness — she just had a bad shrimp."
Both of them burst into laughter as Emma finally finished her story; of that one occasion when she snuck a bottle of wine into her chambers.
Emma was sure she'd never heard Killian laugh so wholeheartedly, arm clenched over his stomach. It's a sound so unusual coming from him yet so filled with joy, she definitely didn't ever want to forget it.
If there's always an obnoxiously loud table at the pub, tonight that's them — apparently unable to contain their loud laughs, tears falling freely from their eyes. She had lost count for how long had they been there, laughing and sharing stories and drinking — which, she had also forgotten how many drinks she'd had that night.
"That's — that's bloody hilarious, Swan," Killian said between laughs, holding out his glass to her. "Cheers to that."
Emma clashed her cup against his, a little harder than she intended to, a few drops of liquor spilling into the table and making her giggle. While Emma's movements had started turning slow and sloppy since the last couple of shots, Killian seemed to be having a way easier time holding his rum. She hesitated for a moment, lips pressed against the cold glass as she watched him chug down his drink, place it back down on the table with a soft thud. If his apparent calm behavior didn't give him away, it was the sparkle in his eyes that showed he was a bit more drunk than he appeared, as he grinned widely at her like he might as well be having the best time of his life.
She might as well be having the best time of her life, too.
"Are you trying to get me drunk, Hook?" Emma teased, lips curving slightly upwards against the cup, before throwing her head back and allowing the liquid to burn down her throat.
She heard Killian laugh softly.
"Do you think so poorly of me?"
"Pirate," she stated with a shrug, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste that remained on her mouth.
"Aye, fair point there, lass," Killian grinned. "That'd be my usual tactic, yes, but I've decided against it with you."
Emma raised an eyebrow at his statement, and chuckled, "Why would you?"
"That's no way to treat a princess, love — and I'm sure you'd hardly ever fall for it," Killian shrugged, a slight smirk appearing on his features. "You're too young for me, anyway."
That last comment threw Emma aback, sending her into a fit of giggles; and despite her sensing playfulness in his voice, she still raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
"Oh, I'm too young for you now, huh?" she inquired. Truth was, she'd never put much thought on his age. He was older than her, that was sure. He had the face of a fully-matured man, yet he still looked young - in his mid-twenties, perhaps. "How old even are you?"
A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "How old do you think I am?"
Emma eyed him carefully for a few moments, and then blindly guessed:
"Twenty… eight?"
Killian chuckled. "A bit past two hundred, love."
The statement made her laugh out loud.
"So, fearsome Captain Hook tells jokes now?" Emma replied, as she placed her glass on the table and pushed it towards him. "I think, though, you might have to pour a shot or two more for me to actually fall for that."
Killian watched her with amusement, taking her glass to pour more liquor in.
"It's no joke, love," he simply stated, handing her back the cup. "I know it's hard to believe — I've aged quite nicely, as you see."
Emma squinted slightly; trying to get a good look at his expression despite the blurriness of her sight due to the alcohol. And while she wasn't sure of how trustworthy her lie-detecting abilities were while under the influence of alcohol, she wasn't able to detect any trace of a lie in his face.
"You're… serious?" she hesitated.
"Dead serious."
Her mouth opened in surprise for a couple of seconds, unsure of what to say as she tried to process this new information about the pirate.
"But that's impossible," she stammered. "How—"
Killian seemed amused by the reaction he'd provoked, leaning back into his seat with a smirk on his face; watching her clearly not able to make sense of what he'd just told her.
"I was trapped in a land where time never passes," Killian explained with a shrug as if it were no big deal. "All the time I remained in that island, I did not age a single day."
"Wait, I—" Emma shook her head. "Let me get this straight: you're a… centuries-old pirate even though one, that's not possible, and two, you look at most like you're in still in your twenties — and all of that because you lived in a land where time is frozen?"
She let out a deep breath and watched as Killian threw his head back laughing.
"I couldn't have summed it up better myself, princess," he said between chuckles.
His age had never been a question for her. Killian was certainly older, yet she'd guessed ten years or so at most — not two hundred. Certainly, that small piece of information seemed to be bringing her a headache - learning of the existence of realms frozen in time. The rum also didn't help.
She was sure she'd end up emptying the contents of her stomach if she had any more drinks.
"You have it," she pushed the still liquor-filled glass back to him with a sigh and looked at him with a mix of surprise and awe. "How'd you ever get to that land?"
Killian looked at her with amusement, accepting the drink and taking it all down in one quick sip.
"First time I ever got there I was just a young lad; still a lieutenant sailing under my brother's command. My brother and myself were sent on a mission to retrieve a plant from an unknown land. That land being Neverland, of course," he explained.
Emma's eyebrows raised at the mention of his brother and his early life as a lieutenant; for some reason, the idea of learning about the pirate's background was thrilling to her. Like getting a small piece of a puzzle she was determined to solve.
However, her focus on the tale shifted briefly as he mentioned the name of the land, and she snorted. "Silly name, isn't it?"
Killian rolled his eyes. "You can't expect bloody children to have exceptional naming skills, lass."
"Children?" Emma repeated with curiosity.
"Aye. The Lost Boys; some of the very few inhabitants of the Island, along with Pan, their leader. Dreadful little brats, all of them. Best to never encounter them."
He spoke as if they might as well be the worst beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing, disgusted look clear on his face. It had Emma holding back a laugh, at the idea of the pirate dealing with a gang of little kids.
"Some kids can be obnoxious, but I don't think it can be that bad—"
"They aren't obnoxious, Swan — they're evil," Killian responded with annoyance, and this time Emma couldn't help the drunken giggles that escaped her.
He continued to explain to her all about his adventures back in Neverland; the constant encounters with the Lost Boys and Peter Pan - the worst of them all, according to Killian ('Bloody demon,' he had whispered through gritted teeth) -, the bloodthirsty mermaids, and even all the harmless-looking plants and fruits that turned out deadly.
Emma's father had always told her that magic always came with a price, and perhaps the price that came with the island's magic was the unceasing dangers that came along with living there. A life of eternal youth, yes; but what was it worth when every corner of the land seemed to be a death trap?
"Geez, sounds like you don't have many fond memories of that place," Emma said.
"I don't." He scowled.
"Then why stay there for so long?"
"Told you, I was trapped," Killian explained. "After that first adventure on Neverland, I used a magic bean to get there a second time — on that occasion, it was to buy myself some time. Turns out, leaving wasn't as easy as I hoped, and I ended up having to spend a lot more time there than I'd originally planned."
With every word that came out of Killian's mouth, more questions popped right into her brain. He could easily be the most intriguing person she'd ever met, having lived and seen so much more than she ever had. And with every new tale he spoke of, she became more and more intrigued by him.
"Why would you need to buy yourself some time?" Emma wondered, leaning into the table, resting her head on the palm of her hand.
"I needed to make plans," he simply stated, and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, urging him to elaborate. He hesitantly added, "To kill the crocodile."
"Rumplestiltskin." The name pops into her brain and out of her mouth before she could even notice it, and she watched as Killian's expression shifted to one of surprise.
"I never told you—!" he began, looking at her wide-eyed.
"I'm not the farm girl you thought I was, remember?" Emma was quick to cut him off and try to explain herself before he jumped into any other conclusions. For some reason, she preferred to keep the fact that she knew way more than he believed her to, to remain a secret. The last thing she wanted was for her to spend the rest of the night answering his questions, about the fact that she knew the girl he'd been looking for all along. So instead, she shrugged it off, like it wasn't of importance. "My family is no stranger to the Dark One. I simply joined the dots."
Killian seemed thoughtful for a moment; yet whatever he pondered on, he did not voice it out loud. He seemed suspicious like he didn't really quite buy her answer; yet after a moment he continued talking, absent-mindedly rubbing his stubble.
"Aye… Anyways, I'm mortal, he's not. That's a problem, clearly, if I'm to kill him. I needed a plan — a good one. So, I bought myself more time, in Neverland."
The thought came into her mind that he had spent hundreds of years on a dangerous island he despised, only to figure out a way to kill the man he hated.
Killian was one hell of a determined man, that was for sure.
"Why do you want to kill him so badly?" she inquired and noticed how his eyes darkened slightly.
"He took my reason to live, so… I'll take his life instead."
Emma was taken aback by that answer, the raw and honest anger behind those words. Until now, she'd believed the captain's ire over the Dark One came purely out of the fact he'd been the one responsible for his missing limb. That answer told her there was certainly no way it was just about that.
"And…" she began slowly, the fact that she knew quite well this was a touchy subject making her hesitant. "…you're not speaking about your hand, are you now?"
She had a feeling, intuition you might call it; and while it would possibly be stepping way out of the line, she still gathered the courage to voice it out loud: "Was it someone you cared for?"
"You're a clever princess, aren't you?"
There was a hint of slight irony and bitterness in his voice, something that told her perhaps she should know better than to push things further than to urge him on to continue speaking about the matter.
But she had to, didn't she? She had to know — had to understand. There had to be more to him, more than just a missing limb and a plan of revenge.
Killian could easily be the most complex person she'd met so far; a cold-hearted, vengeance-driven pirate who yet could seem so warm at times.
She'd seen it in glimpses; the gleam in his eyes she'd catch whenever she bested him, or the rare, truthful smiles he'd once or twice offered her. It was in those brief moments where she believed she could actually see him — the man behind the pirate, the man she was starting to believe wouldn't do anything to harm her.
But they were just glimpses, quickly shadowed by a smirk and a cocky remark that'd remind her who she was really dealing with. And as quick as she'd thought she had begun to catch a glimpse of Killian Jones, she was back off to where she'd started.
Yet, for some reason, she was determined to figure him out.
"Can you tell me?"
Killian watched her for a couple of moments; face as still as it could be, yet Emma noticed the darkening in those blue eyes of his, the conflict behind them. The fun, easy-going feeling she'd been loving from that evening had slipped away, and Emma wondered if this was a question she'd end up regretting to have asked.
Maybe she'd regret it. Maybe the answer would be far worse than she could picture it to be; a tale so filled with hate it would once and for all prove her wrong about him. It would be easier that way; accept she had no reason to keep on by his side, searching for whatever light she'd believed had seen within him.
It would be just what she needed to will herself away from him.
"There was, um…" he began hesitantly like he was unsure of how to start. "There was this woman…"
The answer she got was indeed far worse than what she'd pictured. It wasn't a tale of vengeance; it was a love story.
And that was worse, so much worse.
From the moment he'd begun telling his story, Emma found herself under a spell; unable to do anything but silently listen to him, frozen in her seat as she swallowed every detail of his tale.
Maybe it was that Killian happened to have an unknown natural talent for storytelling. Or maybe it had nothing to do with talent, but with the fact that everyone on this world is good at speaking about the things they love — and by the end of that evening, Emma was certain about one truth: that Killian Jones had madly loved the woman of his tale.
It's hard for Emma to picture what that all had been like, having never really been in love herself. It's just like with her parents — the deep, mad love story she wished so profoundly to understand, to live for herself. And while she had no idea what that was really like, she still felt her heart pumping and racing along with the story — maybe it was his voice that caused that effect or the way he spoke oh-so-passionately about her.
Emma had no trouble picturing her in her head: a beautiful, tall woman with long hair tousled by the wind. A girl, much like herself, with hopes and dreams to see the world. A girl who married too young, had a child too early.
A girl who wanted a life that didn't belong to her. A life of excitement and adventures, a life away from the ordinary. One filled with love, true and wild.
And Emma understood. Wasn't that exactly what she wanted for herself? Could she ever blame that woman's choice of changing her life?
She'd lie if the idea of a life without her royal obligations didn't get her heart racing. She'd lie if the idea of a life of adventures; of the sea and him, didn't get her breath caught up in her throat.
There she was now. In a bar, sitting across the table from him — just like Milah had hundreds of years ago. Emma could perfectly imagine him mouthing the same words he'd probably said to her back then: come with me.
Would she really be able to resist, if he only spoke those words to her, right then and there?
Milah hadn't resisted, of course.
Emma pictured her, with her skin tanned by the sun and smelling of the sea. A pirate girl, in love with a pirate boy.
And then she pictured it all gone; the hopes and dreams and plans. All gone way too soon, as her heart turned into dust in the Dark One's hands.
Killian paused for another drink, straight from the bottle, as he came to the story's darkest point; eyes adverting from hers as he finished his tale.
They were buried on his clenched fist upon the table, like the rings of his hand had suddenly become the only things he was interested in that evening. Maybe he feared that as soon as he locked eyes with her, she'd see right into his soul; notice the hurt and anger buried within him.
But she had already seen.
The table had fallen into silence as soon as Killian finished speaking, and for a few moments, Emma had no idea of what to say in response. She was too preoccupied watching his face, wondering what thoughts laid behind his vacant gaze and slight frown.
Would he regret telling her? Allowing that vulnerable side of him be known?
Emma didn't regret asking. She now knew something she would've never imagined before, something that made her see him in a whole different light.
He wasn't just a pirate. He was Killian Jones; the man who once had a brother, who once had perhaps a true love. Who had lost them both to bitter death.
And while Killian often would brag about her being nothing but an open book, at that moment, Emma was the one seeing right through him – reading him just as easy as if he were one of the books stacked up in her room.
He was heartbroken. And he was lonely.
A feeling of sadness came over her as she came to that realization, and in a desperate attempt to make things better — to try to do the impossible and fix the broken man that sat across from her, she reached out her hand and placed it over his clenched fist. She gently squeezed it, a silent message that at least that night, she was there with him.
"I — That's — I wish I knew what to say." Emma struggled with her words, silently wanting to smack herself for it.
She noticed brief surprise upon his features at her touch, and his eyes remained buried on his hand — and now hers, frown upon his face as if he tried to make sense of the unexpected gesture of comfort.
"Told you it wasn't a fun tale, love," Killian shook his head slightly. "I don't think I've ever shared it like this before."
A faint smile grazed upon her lips. "Thank you."
"What for, love?"
"For sharing it with me," she explained. "It means a lot to me."
A brief silence surrounded them once more, as Killian seemed to be more preoccupied with their joined hands, and Emma briefly followed down his gaze, watching how he - perhaps not even consciously- had begun to slowly move his thumb to caress the skin of her hand. And while the gesture of taking his hand had originally been meant to comfort him, Emma found herself now relaxing under the gentle caress. Out of instinct, she shifted her hand slightly; her fingers finding their own way to lace themselves up with his.
"Killian, I—" she'd begun, watching his eyes finally rush up to hers, a mix of surprise and something else in them, something warm. Yet, just as if you'd blown out a candle, that warmth faded within seconds; replaced by uncertainty and –
Regret.
Just as the vulnerability disappeared from his face, he pulled his hand away from the table; the movement so harsh and sudden it made her jump back, leaving her to just stare at him, confusion and disappointment upon her features as the pirate stood from his seat, blinking a couple of times before flashing her that usual smirk of his.
"While it's been one hell of an evening, Swan, I fear it might be time now to head out," Killian smoothly said, acting like the previous conversation had never happened — like he'd been just speaking about the weather, instead of baring himself to her for the first time. "Do you wish for me to accompany you out?"
Emma blinked up at him for a couple of seconds, unsure of what had just happened. They'd been having a moment there, she'd felt it. It was just them, no cocky acts or play-pretends in between them. He'd been closer, more real to her than ever before, and then…
A sudden wave of anger seemed to rush throughout her; perhaps at the sudden rejection of her touch, or at the fact he'd been so quick to push her out, to retreat back into his confident persona, just when she'd just begun to see him as he truly is.
Emma quickly mimicked his movements, standing up from her seat so harshly she barely knocked down the chair.
"No need. I believe I can find my way out all by myself, thank you," she responded, a tinge of bitterness lying beneath her voice. A part of her secretly hoped he'd do something, say anything that would give her an excuse to stay just a moment longer; but she watched as Killian simply nodded in response, making her inhale deeply and clench her jaw slightly. "Have a good night, Hook."
"'Night, Swan."
Emma desperately fought the urge to look back at him as she, in hurried steps, made her way out of the bar. She had a feeling if at any point she took a final glance at him, their gaze would most certainly meet — and she couldn't bear at that moment to stare into those icy blue eyes.