A/N: I must begin with a HUGE thanks to all of you! To say I was surprised to see this little fic get second for the Best AU Enchanted Forest WIP in the CSfanfic awards is a gross understatement. Several of you have left comments saying that certain scenes in this have made you cry and now you have returned the favor. I was so overwhelmed, I shed actual, literal tears. So, my heartfelt thanks to all of you for taking the time to read, nominate, vote, review, or send messages... I can't tell you how much it means to me. Truly.
All my love,
Rachel
Now, on to the next chapter. And a big shout-out to optomisticgirl for her beta services. MWAH, B!
"FE FI FO FU – " Killian cuts off as the book shakes again, rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance and returning his voice to normal. "Darling, how am I supposed to read this if you can't keep it still?"
His question proves too much for Emma to continue to contain her laughter and she and Grace erupt into a fit of giggles while Dopey throws his head back in silent, but obvious, amusement. They're currently sitting on deck, Killian and Emma perched on a crate and Dopey sitting cross-legged at their feet with Grace on his lap while Killian tries to read a bedtime story to Grace.
"I'm s-sorry," Emma stammers, "I just never knew what a flair you had for story-telling. I wasn't expecting the… voices."
"Oh, Hook is the best story teller there is," Grace pipes up with pride. "He always does the different voices for me. You should hear him do the Wicked Witch's voice. It's amazing."
"You mean like: 'I'll get you my pretty'?"
Now it's Killian's turn to laugh. "Princess, please never do that again. You've got the accent all wrong."
Emma makes a sound of indignation and pinches him on the thigh to which he yelps and sticks his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout that has their audience giggling again.
In truth, he's not upset in the slightest by the way this evening has gone. It's been absolutely perfect to his mind. It started out with he and Emma relaxing on the crate, her back to his chest while they watched the setting sun before Grace appeared and begged a story. He'd immediately agreed but Emma hadn't wanted to move so she'd offered to hold the book while he read over her shoulder, a perfect solution is his opinion since it meant he could continue to hold her while he read. But as the story went on, it was getting increasingly difficult to read with the way the book kept shaking.
He goes back to reading but cuts off again before he even reaches the bottom of the page.
"Hey," she snaps when he attempts to take the book from her, holding it out of his reach.
"We're never going to get through this story if you keep laughing," he retorts, then lowers his voice and lines his mouth up next to her ear. "And if we don't get through this story, we'll never get to bed."
That little reminder has her sobering immediately and he nearly hoots out a laugh himself. "Okay, fine. I'll stop, I promise," she replies, settling back into his chest.
Reaching around, she pulls her hair to one side so he can lay his chin on her shoulder again, then holds the book back up. He manages to get through the rest of the story with only one more interruption, and by that time the sun has completely disappeared.
Grace and Dopey give a short round of applause while Emma snaps the book shut and hands it to the little girl, then she sits back up, lacing the fingers of her now free hand with his.
"Time for bed," Patricia calls from the helm, starting toward the steps to collect her daughter.
"Do I have to?" Grace whines, making the woman in his arms chuckle.
"It's late, angel," Jeff says from behind the wheel.
Grace's shoulder slump but, just as her mother reaches her, her head shoots up. "Can I sleep in the crews' quarters again tonight?" she asks with a smile.
Jeff and Patricia share a look and Jeff shrugs.
"You promise to let Dopey sleep? You won't talk his ear off?" Patricia asks.
"I promise," Grace immediately concedes, practically bouncing on her toes.
"Okay," her mother says, "Let's go get you changed first, then you can pick whichever bunk you want."
Grace grins widely, thanking her mother and hugging her tight around the waist.
Killian chuckles when, as soon as she releases her mother, the little girl insists on giving goodnight hugs to everyone else on board. She'd make a hell of a pirate, he thinks with amusement, watching as she sends her mother an innocent look even as Patricia taps her foot in impatience. The child pulls out every stop to prolong her bedtime. She always has.
As the two finally disappear below deck, Emma settles into him again, her head leaning back to rest on his shoulder so she can gaze at the stars.
He knows he should get up, check their position, set their course, but he doesn't want to let her go just yet. The night is warm and the moon is bright and everything else can wait. He just wants to hold her for a few more minutes, so he lowers his head to rub his nose along her shoulder, relishing the happy sigh she releases as he does so.
He raises his head when he hears Dopey lighting the nearest lamp and the dwarf gives him a satisfied smile, nodding to him in approval. He nods back and glances across the deck to see Ruby giving him a similar look – only hers is more knowing – and he nearly blushes. Emma, who is completely oblivious to the glances being sent their way, snuggles closer in his arms and he buries his face in her neck to hide his smile.
It's been another glorious day. He and Emma had spent the afternoon with Dopey working on his form, him instructing and Emma demonstrating. Eventually, everyone else had joined in and it had turned into a full out fencing class. Then they'd all enjoyed a lovely dinner on deck under the setting sun.
"Today was fun," she murmurs and it doesn't surprise him at all that their thoughts are aligned.
"Yes, it was," he replies, tightening his grip on her waist.
She twists her neck to brush a sweet kiss on his lips and he closes his eyes to savor it. His eyes stay closed as she does it again, a soft glide of mouth against mouth, and his chest warms with contentment.
There's an easy breeze coming off the ocean, blowing through her hair to the point where the ends of it glance across his neck, the soft strands and her subtle fragrance mixing together into a moment he wants to revel in, to memorize and burn onto his heart. It's the simple moments like this one that he missed most of all, they're the memories he played over and over again in his head for so many years, and the fact that he's able to experience more of them now makes him want to etch the picture of every one on his brain, commit to memory the silky skin behind her ear where his fingers brush, the quiet sigh he hears when she turns further in his arms, skimming her lips across his again.
He's so lost in his effort to memorize every sensation that he misses the way she goes still when he buries his nose in her neck to breathe her in – roses and a touch of a spice he doesn't recognize that will haunt him for the rest of his life – but when his nose brushes the lobe of her ear and her fingers dig into his shoulder, there's something about it that draws his attention and he, regretfully, leaves the solace of her throat to look at her. When he does, she motions over his shoulder with an amused and slightly embarrassed expression and he turns to find Jeff crossing the deck toward them.
"Later," he hears her whisper and he turns back to see her eyes shining with merriment.
"Later," he echoes.
"Sorry to interrupt," Jeff says when he reaches them, "but I wanted to talk about where we're headed."
Killian stands to face his friend, slipping his arm around Emma's waist. "I was thinking Portsmouth," he replies, "I was there a few months ago, and I think it's our best option."
"Yes, that would be excellent. I've got several…" his eyes dart to Emma and back, "contacts there."
"Good. We should be there in a couple of days," Killian tells him, appreciative of the fact that Jefferson used the term 'contacts' instead of 'spies.' His friend obviously suspects that he hasn't told Emma about their operation yet and the look on his face confirms it.
"Once we get there, we should do a bit of scouting before Grace leaves the ship," Jeff comments.
"Of course, I was already planning on it."
"Planning on what?" Patricia asks, appearing at her husband's side and linking her arm with his.
Jefferson's eyes soften at his wife's appearance, turning to kiss her on the cheek, "We're headed to Portsmouth and Killian and I were just talking about doing a bit of scouting before anyone else leaves the ship."
"You're not going without me," Patricia immediately responds.
He and Jefferson share a look.
"It might be dangerous, darling," Jeff says to his wife.
"And your point?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jeff just sighs, obviously not willing to put up the fight to stop her. "Just that you'll need to be careful."
Patricia gives a sharp nod at that but softens it with a light kiss then, linking her arm back in his, her eyes suddenly lighting up with an idea. "We should stop by the tavern while we're looking around. Their tavern is always bursting at the seams with the latest tidbits!"
"Fine," Jeff agrees, resignedly.
"I'm going, too," Emma says.
Bloody hell.
His body stiffens against his will and he knows she notices, her own back going ramrod straight as she turns to face him. She's got that determined look in her eye, like she's daring him to contradict her, the argument forming before he can even say a word. But he's not going to argue with her – he's not. He's going to keep calm no matter how this conversation goes. He lets his hand fall from her waist, hooking his thumb in his belt and schooling his features the best he can.
"Emma," he says carefully, trying to get her to see reason, "the closer we get to your kingdom, the more likely it is that you'll be recognized. Regina is looking for you. You should stay aboard the Jolly, she'll protect you."
"And what about you?" she asks, obviously trying to stay calm as well. "Regina is looking for both of us. She sent a garrison of knights to capture you. Or have you forgotten that?"
"No, I haven't."
"Then what's the difference?!"
Her voice is starting to rise and he grits his teeth against his need to match it.
"I can't hide aboard this ship, love," he says evenly, "I'm sure word of that encounter is spreading faster than lightning and I need to stop any rumors of my untimely demise as quickly as possible."
"Why?" she demands, and now her arms are crossed over her chest.
"What do you mean, why?"
"Everyone already thinks Killian Jones is dead. Let them think Captain Hook is dead, too."
"No."
He doesn't expect the amount of venom that comes out with the word and Emma doesn't seem to either, her eyes widening in shock.
"But –"
"I don't care what the general population thinks," he cuts her off, "But the Evil Queen…? She already knows by now that her plan failed and I'll not give her the satisfaction of thinking she's scared me into hiding!"
Her mouth snaps shut at that but her eyes are still flashing with annoyance. After several cleansing breaths, he sees the tension in her shoulders start to relax and relief floods him, thinking he's won this debate. He's just about to congratulate himself on keeping his temper (for the most part) under control, but then she lifts her chin at a regal angle.
"Fine, but I'm not going to hide, either," she says. Then, at the eye-roll he can't contain, her voice goes a pitch higher, "People are going to find out I'm still alive soon enough. What does it matter if they find out before we reach Camelot?"
"Outside of the impropriety of being seen in the company of a pirate?"
"Impropriety?" she asks in disbelief, "You're worried about my reputation?"
"I'm worried about your LIFE!" he shouts.
"And I'm worried about YOURS!"
Their outburst echoes across the deck in the following silence, both of them breathing heavy and their stances stubborn.
Gods, she really doesn't understand, does she? She doesn't see the difference…
He takes a long breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself, grappling for any excuse he can come up with to convince her to stay aboard the ship.
"My life isn't nearly as valuable as yours is, princess." He rasps out the first thing that comes to mind. "If Regina finds out where you are, she'll set the remainder of her navy to find us. The Jolly is a marvel, yes, but she can't stand against all of Regina's ships. If they find us before we reach Camelot, they'll sink us without a second thought."
"You know as well as I do that won't happen," she replies with derision, "By the time word reaches her, we'll be half-way there and her ships won't stand a chance at catching us. The Jolly is a marvel, and she's also the fastest ship in the realm. Try again, Captain."
He bristles at the emphasis she puts on his title, a tinge of regret flickering through him that he'd made a point to use hers. But she needs to understand, dammit! No matter how much she doesn't like it, she is a princess. She was born to rule a kingdom and her life is too bloody valuable to risk over a simple scouting mission.
(And that's to say nothing of the prophecy that says she will be the one to defeat the Evil Queen - which he knows she knows nothing about, but she's not stupid and she must at least suspect where this is headed. While his life… Well, he's not as vital. He's already done what he needed to do. He's already awakened her magic and it will continue to strengthen with or without him.)
The tension is back in her shoulders as they stare each other down through the strained silence, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest that he idly wonders if she'll have bruises tomorrow from how her fingers are gripping into her forearms. For his part, his heart is pounding heavily and he can feel his fingernails digging crescents into his palm. He's also acutely aware that everyone is watching, none of them daring to move.
It's another few moments before Ruby's voice breaks the non verbal battle. "What if there was no chance that she'll be recognized?" she asks as though something just occurred to her.
Neither he nor Emma respond, their stares never wavering from the other, both of them so determined to not back down that they don't even glance Ruby's way, so it falls to Jeff to voice the question.
"How?" he asks.
"Magic," she replies. "Emma could do a glamour spell."
That gets Emma's attention and she finally breaks the nearly tangible tether between their eyes, swinging her gaze to Ruby.
"A glamour spell?"
"Yes, to change your appearance. It's the same principle you were using yesterday to change the color of our dresses," Ruby says.
Killian's stomach clenches into a tight fist when Emma's eyes light up, an inexplicable but all-encompassing terror crawling up his chest.
"How do I do it?" she asks.
No.
"Just picture what you want to look like and let your magic do the rest."
No, no, no.
Emma nods, closing her eyes and concentrating even as jagged claws tear at the back of Killian's throat, the sudden onslaught of fear manifesting itself by choking off his air supply.
No. She needs to stay aboard the ship, he thinks. She can't… It's too dangerous.
His lungs are burning with the need for oxygen by the time Emma's eyes open, looking to Ruby and shaking her head in an indication that it didn't work and Killian finally manages to draw a breath.
"Try thinking of someone you know well. Someone whose face is familiar – Gwen from The Gold Mine, maybe."
The dread washes through him again instantly when Emma's eyes close, her hands going into fists at her sides even as his do the same.
Don't let it work, he prays desperately. Please, don't let it work. She'll be safer on the ship.
Emma shakes her head, looking to Ruby again.
"Okay. Try me," Ruby suggests. "You probably know my face better than I do."
"It's not that," Emma replies, "It's… I can't even get the magic to start. It's…" she trails off, looking down to her hands with confusion as she turns them over and back again…
Then, without warning, she whips around to face him, her eyes wide with realization and her voice sharp with accusation.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she demands.
He nearly stumbles back from the force of her words, confusion and anger making his denial much more heated than he intends. "I'm not doing anything!"
"Yes, you are!" she shouts.
"No, I'm NOT!" he retorts – even though he's not sure what he's denying. He's just bloody standing here. He hasn't moved so much as a single muscle, so what on earth could she possibly think he's doing?
Her chin juts out stubbornly as she snatches his hand and links their fingers together. Clenching her eyes shut, she squeezes his hand, her face a mask of determination as she tries one last time to call on her magic. His eyes drop to their interlaced fingers but there's nothing, no spark, no warmth in his stomach, no light igniting between their palms.
She drops his hand as if he's burned her, taking a step back and looking at him with wide eyes.
"You don't want it to work," she says, disbelief and hurt lacing the words.
A heavy weight swoops into his belly, the pain on her face lancing his heart even if he has no idea what he's done to put it there. But she's right, he doesn't want it to work, so he doesn't respond to her implied question – not that he needs to, she already knows what he's thinking.
"Why?" she asks, idly rubbing her thumb over the palm of the hand she'd just released from his.
"'Why' what?"
"Why don't you want it to work?!" she demands at the top of her voice.
Because this is the best excuse I have to keep you on the ship. To keep you safe. Because I'm terrified of losing you. Because I won't survive it, not again. It has nothing to do with you being royalty or you defeating Regina and everything to do with the fact that I can't even think about a world without you in it without spiraling into a complete bloody panic!
"What difference does it make?" he says instead.
"Because I can't use my magic!"
"And how is that my fault?!"
"Because, you stubborn pirate, it's not just my magic. It's ours!"
Her declaration doesn't register at first, his greater concern the way her eyes widen in alarm as though she hadn't intended to share that secret just yet. But he doesn't have time to wonder why that is before the meaning of her words slam into him like a bloody hammer and his breath catches.
Their magic? What does she mean, their magic? It's her magic. She's the one who has power, not him. She's the one who saved his life and Grace's life and Dopey's life. He just… gives her a boost occasionally, he doesn't have anything to do with how she uses it.
She must see his confusion, so she takes it upon herself to demonstrate. "Watch," she says, reaching out and taking Ruby's hand. "Ruby cut herself earlier while she was making dinner. I'm going to heal it, okay?"
Before he can say a word, she waves her hand and he feels the spark in his stomach, the small cut disappearing. That only serves to confuse him even more because her magic is working, so what on earth is she going on about?
"Did you feel that?" she asks.
"Yes, but what does that prove?"
"You wanted it to heal, right?"
"Well, I… I mean, I obviously don't want Ruby to be in pain, but I – "
"So, you wanted it to heal," she surmises, releasing Ruby's hand and taking a step toward him. "Don't you see? It only works when we want the same thing… Consciously or not."
He shakes his head in denial. "That can't be true. You've used it without me before. Bloody hell, I was sleeping the other morning when you healed yourself – "
"But you'd never want me to be in pain. Just like you'd never want Ruby to be."
"But – "
"Look, it's hard to explain but… every time I use it, it's… it's like you're there with me… it's like I can feel your heart working alongside mine."
He shakes his head again, his thoughts reeling. He's part of her magic? But it's impossible. Isn't it? He doesn't have… power. He's no one. A commoner who was lucky enough to catch the eye of a princess. She's the special one. He's the son of a man who sold him into servitude the moment he was old enough to be useful. She's the product of true love. A princess… Royalty…
From out of nowhere, Jeff's words from a few days ago pop into his mind. The love between the two of you… It was electric. It was magic, Killian. Literally. Everyone around you could feel it.
His heart thuds and his eyes widen, his blood starting to race as he frantically thinks back to each and every time she's used her magic, replaying each one in his head…
Arendelle… the attack on the Jolly… the cave… He's felt it every time. Even yesterday, while she was practicing and he was fencing with Dopey there was a subtle spark in his stomach. His eyes had been drawn to her over and over again because he could feel her calling on it, contentment filling him because he was happy that it was strengthening… as he was hoping it would.
When he looks back to her, she's nervous, wringing her hands together as she eyes him warily, like she's afraid of what his reaction will be. But the only thing he can think is how amazing this is. How a man like him, a one-handed pirate, could possibly be part of something like this… A love so powerful that it can heal and protect everyone around them because, like Jeff said, it's their love that makes the magic.
He's moving in the next second, weaving his hand her in hair and kissing her so soundly that she squeaks in surprise.
K&EK&EK&E
Okay, definitely not the reaction she was expecting – not that she's complaining.
She'd been standing there, watching each thought flitter across his face – from disbelief to confusion to acceptance – terrified that he'd misinterpret her recent actions as a ploy to use him simply so her magic would work. Or that he'd be angry that she's kept it a secret. But he doesn't seem to be either, especially with the way he turns his back on their audience to afford them a bit of privacy so he can sweep his tongue through her mouth.
He breaks the kiss as abruptly as he'd started it and she's so caught up in the haze of his lips that she has to concentrate to pry her eyes open. When his face comes into focus, there's a look of awe in his heavy-lidded gaze, his eyes searching her features like he's seeing her for the first time. Slipping his hand further into her hair, he guides her head to nuzzle his nose against hers and her heart swells in her chest.
She's definitely not complaining.
Someone coughs loudly and they break apart, both of them blushing and clearing their throats as they turn back to their friends.
"Well, now that that's settled," Ruby says, "Can we get back to our current problem? Emma needs to be able to disguise herself if she's going to leave the ship."
Killian's shoulders immediately tense again and she looks over to him, his eyes clouding just before he hides them from her.
"Killian?" she asks, her chest tightening when she sees the way his jaw clenches.
He shifts around on his feet, keeping his eyes averted and she turns to face him, only vaguely aware of their friends silently retreating.
He shakes his head, his lower lip caught between his teeth. "I'm sorry, love, but I… If it's true that your magic depends on both of us, then I'm…"
He trails off, opening his eyes to give her a pleading look, begging her to understand.
Her heart sinks and her temper flairs back to life. "You still don't want it to work," she says, trying to keep the sharpness of the knives she feels in her chest from coming out in her voice.
"I can't help the way I feel, Emma. I can't – "
"Why?!" she demands, and dammit, he looks like she's just jabbed one of those knives into his chest now with how he sucks in a ragged gasp.
"Emma, please…"
She takes a measured breath to calm herself at the pleading in his eyes, but it doesn't do anything to slow her racing blood. Still, she manages to mask the worst of her annoyance when she speaks again.
"You don't trust me," she says flatly.
"It's not that," he immediately replies.
"Yes, it is," she retorts, "It's exactly that. You don't trust that I can take care of myself."
"Emma…"
"You know, I may not be a notorious pirate captain whose name strikes fear into anyone who hears it, but I'm not some spoiled, dainty princess, either! I may have been living in ignorance for the past few years but I'm still me. You used to have faith in me. You used to treat me like an equal. But now… what? I'm supposed to sit on my hands while you go off without me? I'm supposed to wait around on this ship like I'm fucking helpless while you risk your life?"
"Love…" He takes a step toward her, raising his hand as though to sooth her and she bats it away.
"Well, it's not going to happen that way. The only way you'll get me to stay on this ship is if you physically restrain me!"
She turns on her heel and stalks off, too angry to even turn back when he calls her name.
Once she's safe inside his cabin is when the tears come, fury and hurt making them burn as they slide down her cheeks.
That impossible… stubborn… thick-headed… pirate! How can he even consider leaving her behind? What does she need to do to prove to him that she's just as capable as he is? Because what she said on deck is true: He used to trust her, he used to consider her an equal, he used to believe in her. But now… Now he doesn't.
Her eyes land on the long leather coat hanging benignly on the peg next to the door and her blood boils.
Now he's a highly-feared pirate captain who is used to people following his orders without question. He's the commander of his ship and everyone aboard. And, somehow, he's gotten it into his head that she'll follow those commands without putting up a fight? Well, he's sorely mistaken.
Idly, she snatches a sword handle that's sticking out of one of the chests lining the walls, pivoting and slashing it through the air with grace. She may not be as good as he is with a sword anymore, but she's no amateur. Adjusting her grip on the hilt, she spins on the spot, the weapon zipping through the air so fast that she hears the hum of the blade before landing in a low lunge.
How naïve does he think she is? she thinks sourly. Does he think she doesn't understand the importance of what they're doing? It's her kingdom they're fighting for, her mother is the one locked in that tower, her father is the one who has been separated from his wife for all these years. And if he thinks she's going to let him treat her like some delicate, fragile figurehead who needs protecting while she stays behind…
She stabs the sword back into the chest, a satisfying clang of metal echoing through the room when it slides past the precious gold and silver treasures it had been nestled with. Angrily, she wipes at her eyes, removing the evidence of tears and walks to the bed, plopping down and covering her face with her hands.
She'll go mad if she's stuck here worrying about him while he's out there – probably rushing head-long into danger with a cavalier attitude toward his life. Because that's exactly what he'll do. He's already proven he doesn't see his life as a thing of value. He'd been willing to die for Grace and he'd made it clear earlier that he considers her life more valuable than his and that's just not true. He's more vital than he gives himself credit for but if half of what she's heard of him is accurate, he takes insane risks on a regular basis and he… he can't… She won't survive losing him again. She won't. She's certain her heart would simply cease beating if… if he…
Just the thought has tears spilling over again and she snatches up his pillow, hugging it to her chest as she lays back on the mattress.
She won't let him do it. She'll chain herself to his side if she has to. He's not going anywhere without her.
There's a shuffle on the deck above her and she holds her breath, watching the hatch to see if it opens but it doesn't. Instead, the footsteps retreat and she feels a pang of regret shoot through her. She shouldn't have yelled at him. She shouldn't have called him out for his pirate ways again. But dammit, does he really expect her to sit here and do nothing?
She clamps her eyes shut at the next sting of tears, willing them not to fall. She considers going back up to try to talk sense into him, but changes her mind. She'll wait for him to come down for the night. They've already put on quite a show for everyone and she'd rather have this conversation in private.
She stares at the ceiling and waits. And waits.
And waits.
It's sometime later when she jolts to attention, confusion filtering through her when she sees the room is much darker than it had been. She must have fallen asleep, she realizes, unconsciously reaching across the bed seeking Killian. Her hand glides over the empty mattress next to her and her stomach drops.
Glancing around the room, she notices the lanterns have nearly burned out, indicating she's slept for a good portion of the night. With a weight in her chest, she gets to her feet, her eyes still scratchy and sore from her earlier bout of tears.
Quietly, she makes her way up the ladder, expecting to find him at the helm. Instead, though, she's greeted by another dark-haired man. Jefferson is standing at the wheel and affords her a quick glance when he hears her.
"He's below deck," he says without prompting, "assuring himself once again that all of the cannons are loaded and at the ready."
His tone is reprimanding and, if she's not mistaken, there's also a subtle implication of something more hidden in his words. She's not sure because she doesn't know him very well, but her shoulders still slump at the admonishment. He's clearly not happy with her and who can blame him? His loyalties lie squarely with Killian and their little scene earlier is most certainly the reason he's not currently in bed with his wife. Rather, he's spent a good part of the night on deck, more than likely in an attempt to either console his friend or distract him.
Not wanting to deal with another confrontation, she skirts around him toward the stairs, but just as her foot lands on the first step, she hears him release an exasperated sigh.
"May I offer you a bit of advice, princess?" he asks.
She almost turns down his offer but there's a trace of apology in his voice that makes her hesitate. His sympathies might be with Killian but it does sound like he truly wants to help, and since he probably knows Killian better than anyone now, his advice could be immeasurably valuable. So she removes her foot from the step and turns to face him, folding her hands demurely in front of her.
Once he has her attention, he studies her for a moment, his eyes searching hers and his hand readjusting itself on the wheel in a nervous reflex, apparently trying to figure out how to approach whatever it is he wants to say. She lets her hands fall to her sides at the obvious concern in his eyes and takes a step toward him, silently encouraging him.
Finally, he draws a deep breath, his eyes softening as he looks thoughtfully out at the horizon. "I've been married for some years now," he starts, his voice soft, "and I love my wife with everything I have. She and Grace have brought joy back to my life. And joy was not something I thought to ever have again."
This wistful admission is the last thing she expected and her brow wrinkles as he fiddles with the handle again.
"I won't pretend to know what it was like for you when you were informed of Killian's death," he says gently, "But I was there when he heard of yours. He'd just lost his brother – killed right in front of him – and, within a fortnight, he lost you as well. He had nothing left. And it… broke him."
Emma's eyes fill with tears, her heart aching. He saw his brother die? Liam died before they even escaped the castle? She wants to ask what happened but her throat is clogged and, even though she tries, the lump obstructing her voice is too large to swallow past.
Jeff steps forward and takes her hand, holding it between both of his, his voice gentling even more. "I'm sure it was difficult for you as well, but at least you knew your parents were still alive. You had, at least a sliver of hope for the future. He didn't. He lost everything in a very short span of time and… that kind of pain, it stays with you. And it's something you would give anything to keep from feeling again."
She blinks to clear her blurred vision and it barely does any good with how fast her eyes fill again.
"He doesn't question your abilities, your highness. You have to know that. He's just terrified. And, if you'll forgive me for saying so, I'd say the… strength of your anger earlier would indicate you are, too."
Drawing a shaky breath, she squeezes his hand, a rush of affection pressing on her heart. Yes, he's squarely on Killian's side but he also holds sympathy for hers. And, he's right, she and Killian are both scared of the same thing, it's just that neither of them were willing to admit it. (Well, Killian might have been but, once again, she relapsed to anger to cover her fear before he could explain himself.)
As if understanding her predicament, he gingerly wipes a tear from her cheek, going on, "Take it easy on him, princess. He's nearly obsessed with keeping you safe. This is the third time today the cannons have been checked."
The statement melts her heart and she nods, his first comment when she alighted on deck suddenly making sense.
Flashing a sad smile, he gives her a quick kiss on the back of the hand and steps back, returning to the wheel. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he adds in a mischievous tone, "You know, there's something I've learned over the years I've spent with my wife: Arguments are inevitable, especially when you're both strong-willed people, but the making up can be…" he quirks an eyebrow… "fun."
She huffs out a laugh through her tears, completely taken off guard at his frank words considering the propriety he usually uses toward her.
"Perhaps," she replies in amusement but it fades quickly, adding, "but I wouldn't know. Killian and I never used to argue."
He must hear the melancholy return because his voice turns serious again. "That's because you never had anything to argue about," he points out.
At her questioning look he continues, "You were young back then, princess. You didn't have a care in the world. Your kingdom was at peace. There was no conflict, no war, and no reason to believe that would ever change. You were, the both of you, fearless. You'd never known loss, betrayal – and now there's danger everywhere. And danger makes emotions run high, especially when mixed with two people as headstrong as you and Killian."
The creaking sound of a hatch opening draws both of their attentions and Killian appears, stopping abruptly when he sees the two of them at the helm. Their eyes meet across the deck, but he doesn't hold the gaze, instead flicking his eyes to Jefferson.
Jeff looks completely unimpressed with Killian's tense stance, in fact, he looks almost pleased at Killian's irritation. Turning back to Emma, he gives her a quick bow. "Well, I should leave you to it, princess," he says, moving to walk past her.
She stops him with a hand on his arm. "My friends call me Emma, Lord Galerus."
He smiles softly. "And mine call me Jeff, Emma."
She gives him a thankful nod, hoping he understands how much she appreciates the help and insight she's gained from him during their short conversation. "Good night, Jeff."
"Good night, Emma," then he leans close to her ear, "Remember: Go easy… the making up could be worth the fight."
Her lips curve and she nods one more time in agreement, then he goes around her to make his way down the steps. He pauses when he reaches Killian, whispering something to him that Emma doesn't hear but makes Killian's lip quirk for the barest instant. Then he leaves, descending into one of the hatches.
As soon as the creaky hatch latches shut, silence descends in a nearly physical fog, it's thick weight even blocking out the sound of water lapping on the bow. Killian hasn't moved, his hand anchored in the belt at his waist but, somehow, it doesn't look as menacing without the pirate garb he's been shedding over the past few days. Still, his eyes are hard and his jaw ticking and her heart sinks even more. She wants to go to him, just rush down the steps and throw herself into the comforting warmth of his arms, surrender the fight and beg forgiveness for losing her temper again, but her feet are rooted to the spot.
"I thought you'd be asleep by now." His voice cracks the tiniest bit on the last word, completely at odds with the terse comment.
"I thought you would've joined me by now," she counters.
He fidgets and scratches at the back of his ear, looking away from her. "Well, I wasn't entirely sure my presence would be welcome."
His voice has softened but it's still guarded and she aches to cross to him. To that end, she takes a step in his direction, "Killian – "
"I don't want to fight, love," he interjects, his hand lifting as though warding her off and she freezes mid-step.
"I don't want to fight, either," she replies, going ahead and taking the step closer.
The space separating them feels like it stretches a mile and when he steps back as though to keep the distance even, her heart tightens so badly she fears it might stop beating.
"Please Killian," she rasps desperately, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I just – "
"Why did you think I'd be upset about your magic depending on both us?" he interrupts in a rough voice, both curiosity and pain dripping from the question.
Her eyes pop wide, surprised that this, rather than her outburst, seems to be what has him the most upset, "It was just…" she falters, "Things have been getting better between us and I didn't want to risk – "
"Did you think I'd be angry?" he asks.
"I… I just didn't know how you'd react…" She replies, hesitantly starting down the steps to close at least some of the distance between them. "You see, this magic – our magic – it's more than just us wanting the same thing. It also depends on… something else," she explains.
She's now at the bottom of the stairs and he hasn't moved, but she stops there and keeps her hand on the rail, needing something solid to hold on to as she goes on, "Right after I woke up, during those days when you were avoiding me… Well, it didn't work at all then. I didn't understand why at first but once it did start working again, I realized it… Well, it…" she trails off and bites her lip, unable to meet his eyes.
"Its strength is directly related to the strength of our… feelings for each other," he finishes for her, the way he says it giving her the impression that he'd already riddled through the matter while she'd been below.
She nods hesitantly, averting her eyes to stare at the grooves in the rail her thumb is nervously tracing. "Yes," she manages in a jagged tone.
"And you were afraid I'd think you were only… using me to make our magic work."
Again, she can tell he's already reached this conclusion and even though there's no accusation in the gently spoken statement, her cheeks redden in shame, her eyes filling with tears. She nods slowly, her thumb nearly gouging the thick wood of the rail now.
"Emma," he breathes taking slow steps until he's standing before her. He shakes his head sadly, reaching out to cup her cheek, "I'd never think that, love. Never."
She's frozen to the spot, swallowing tightly against the lump in her throat. She sees moisture caught in the edges of his eyes and he lifts his left arm and uses his hook to gently tuck a stray curl behind her ear, searching her features with a sorrow so deep that it tugs at her heart.
"We don't know each other at all anymore, do we?" he asks quietly.
The overwhelming sadness she hears makes her stomach plummet – because he believes it. He's been up here half the night, not upset because of her outburst, but pondering over her reason for not telling him about their magic and coming to this conclusion – this soul wrenching conclusion that they have changed so much that they don't even know each other and he's so wrong. She does know him.
"That's not true. I do know you," she says, trying to put as much conviction as she can into her words, but her throat is so tight it only comes out as a croak.
He shakes his head in denial and tries to step back but her hands grapple at his shirt, urgently gripping it to stop him from retreating as she presses on, her voice getting stronger. "I know that you're honorable and kind," she declares fervently. "I know that you'd do anything for a friend and that you have a sense of loyalty that runs so deep you're willing to give your life for it." She moves one hand to his cheek to make sure he keeps his eyes on hers. "I also know you're scared," she whispers, "you're scared of so many things. You're scared to tell me what happened while we were apart, you're scared that I don't care for you the way I used to and that I won't understand."
"Emma…"
"But that's not all you're scared of," she hurries on, because she doesn't want to push that right now, "You're also scared of losing me again. And that's why you didn't want the glamour spell to work earlier. You want me to stay on the ship so that I'll be safe. But what you don't understand is that I'm just as scared of losing you."
He sucks in a breath, his hand tightening at the base of her neck. "Darling…" he whispers, tears now falling unchecked down his cheeks as his head falls forward to land on hers with a strangled sound.
"I won't let you go without me," she vows, "and that's not me being stubborn or trying to defy you. It's me being terrified that you won't come back. You want to protect me, and I understand that, but why can't you believe that I want to protect you just as much? That if something happens to you, I… I…" Her voice clogs and she leans back to meet his eyes, noting the tiny glimmer of hope now shining in them. "I can't lose you again. I can't. I need you, Killian. I need you beside me, I need your strength and your faith and your hand in mine. And that has nothing to do with magic… or… or strategy… or…"
"I need you, too," he rasps out when her voice breaks, and then he's moving, covering her mouth with a kiss so desperate that it shoots dizzying relief through her system.
He kisses her thoroughly, a broken groan releasing into her mouth when he tilts his head and his tongue slides against hers. She can taste his tears, or maybe their hers, but either way, it adds more fuel to her response and her tongue moves with greater purpose, tangling with his.
She clutches his neck, holding on for all she's worth when he backs her up until her spine makes contact with the corner hidden by the staircase. He's like a man possessed, his mouth burning a trail of fire across her cheek and down her neck as he pins her to the wall with his body.
Tugging roughly on his hair, she brings his eyes to hers only long enough to say one more thing while she still can, something she needs to say and something he needs to hear. "Never tell me again that my life is more important than yours," she pants, clenching her fist in his hair for punctuation. "Do you hear me? Your life is just as important as mine."
She connects their lips without waiting for his reply, using the same tuft of hair to angle his head and attack his mouth demandingly.
"Never, do you understand?" she adds at the next break of lips.
"I understand," he gasps out, his hand gliding down her spine and his hook nudging her thigh to prompt her to wrap it around his back.
As soon as her leg is locked around him, he rocks his hips forward while his hand tugs her to him and she gasps, so caught up in the feel of him that she almost misses the mumble he releases into her neck. "I can't lose you, either," he grounds out. "I won't survive it again. I need you to breathe, love."
His lips clamp down hard on her collarbone and suck even as hand and hook start yanking at her dress, his urgency making her mind simply turn off until she feels his fingers pressing into her. It's then that she realizes he intends to have her right here on deck and a thrill shivers through her veins. Frantically, she reaches for his pants, nearly tearing them in her haste to free him from the confines, and amazes at the hard length of him jutting out and into her hand. It's the first time she's touched him like this and she wants to take a moment to explore the feel of him, but she only gets time to register how silky the skin is before he's batting her hand away and bending his knees to position himself. He pauses for one breathless instant, meeting her eyes with feral need and then he's plunging into her, his groan as loud and unrestrained as her own.
It's fast and fevered, single words all either of them are capable of – words like more, need, now, please – and then she's tumbling, one trembling leg falling from his hip as he pushes her through it, ending the crazed mating with a final 'fuck' that is gasped out against her ear.
She nearly crumples when she tries to support her own weight, her leg so shaky that it doesn't have the strength to hold her up but he steadies her, his forehead and nose planted against hers as they both struggle to breathe. His hand runs up her torso until his thumb glances over her cheek and he kisses her one more time, a barely-there kiss that makes her heart stutter. It's tender and sweet and she strokes his cheek in return, a tremulous smile shared between them.
A breeze makes its way into their little corner and glances across the sweat slickened skin of her neck and she jolts, dragging a half groan, half whimper from him that makes her smile widen. He eases out and lets her skirt fall back between them, burying his nose in her neck as she chuckles.
"What has you amused, love?" he asks.
She meets his eyes, and thank all the world, there's no trace of sadness left in them. "Jeff was right," she teases, running her finger down his cheek, "making up can be… fun."
He huffs out a laugh. "Why don't we go make up again in the warmth of our cabin?"
"Mmmmm, sounds perfect."
K&EK&EK&E
It's hours later and Killian still hasn't slept, his body exhausted but his mind reeling as he stares at the chest sitting on the ledge near their feet. Emma is lying next to him, the peaceful cadence of her breathing keeping time with his heartbeat while he fiddles with the ends of her hair through his fingers.
He's part of her magic – and that magic depends on them being close emotionally. And she's going to need that magic to defeat Regina – which means he can't risk anything driving a wedge between them until after that happens. And that means, no matter how much he wants to stop living this lie, he can't tell her. Not yet. There's too much at stake to take the chance on her reaction.
He'll get her to her father. He'll stand with her against the Evil Queen. He'll do whatever it takes to help David free Snow from her curse and see his King and Queen back on their rightful thrones. Then he'll tell her and hope she doesn't turn him away. Until then, he'll do his best to keep her safe and happy.
Tearing his eyes off the chest, he relaxes in behind Emma, tracing his fingers down her arm and settling his hand on her hip. She sighs softly in sleep and he presses a feather-light kiss against the back of her bare shoulder.
"I love you, Emma," he whispers, and even though she can't hear him, his heart feels lighter just by saying the words aloud.
By the time he falls asleep, the sun is peeking over the horizon.
K&EK&EK&E
David stares out the window facing the ocean with a mixture of joy and trepidation, his eyes straining through the morning fog to see the masts on the ships as they come and go with the tides. He knows it would be next to impossible for Emma to arrive so quickly but he can't help but watch for his daughter's appearance.
His mind wanders as he scans the harbor, his eyes losing focus and letting his head fall back. He's been preparing for this for years, formulated plan after plan, gone through scenario after scenario. There are so many moving parts, so many things to accomplish – and time is running out. The closer they get to Emma's birthday, the more anxious he becomes.
He's always been a worrier, something Snow used to tease him about on a regular basis. She'd been very fond of coming up behind him while he stood on their balcony, his eyes unfocused on the horizon like he's doing now. She'd wrap her arms around his waist and tell him to come to bed, assuring him he would come up with the answer in time, the complete faith in her voice making him believe it, too. Gods, he misses her. He misses her mischievous smile and her cunning wit, her smooth skin under his fingers and her hand in his. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her, her temple resting on his back between his shoulder blades as she wraps her arms around him like she did then.
The memory brings a tear to his eye and he presses his hand to his stomach in the exact spot where hers would be clasped together if she were really here. Breathing long and deep, he imagines turning to face her, You worry too much, Charming. Stop trying to plan everything. One step at a time, that's what we need to focus on. Just consider the next step.
When he opens his eyes again, he's calmer, the memory of her unerring hope making his heart settle. She'd always had complete faith in him and now is not the time to lose that. They'll be together again soon, he'll wake her from the curse and they'll be a family.
But first, the next step: Find the dagger and reunite the blades.
It's frustrating that he can't be the one out searching for the legendary weapon but he knows he can't. Arthur can roam the realms freely whereas David would be hunted mercilessly if he were to leave the haven of Camelot. But, dammit, he hates being cooped up like this.
Still, if there's one thing he's sure Arthur of Camelot is capable of doing it's fulfilling his own destiny to complete Excalibur. He just wishes it could have been fulfilled years before. But, according to the message they received yesterday, Arthur is now certain he's found the dagger's hiding place and it's just a matter of time before he returns with his long-sought-after prize.
Emma will need the sword. Everything hinges on it. According to legend, Excalibur is the most powerful magical object in the world which, once whole, has the power to strip the magic from anyone who possesses it. One cut is all it takes. He'd been pessimistic at first, worried that such a weapon could be used to strip Emma's powers, but he couldn't deny the advantage it would give them – especially when he'd learned that Regina had been searching for the dagger as well. Of course, Regina doesn't have either half, and they've already got one, so her search for the dagger must have been for the sole purpose of keeping it away from its mate.
But that doesn't matter now. It looks like Arthur has won the race and Lance is on his way right now to fetch the Promethean Flame that they'd found and hidden years ago. Things are finally starting to come together. Emma and Killian have been reunited. The dagger will be their possession soon. They have the spark Emma will use to reunite the blades. Emma has her magic and she's on her way here.
Emma is on her way here.
He draws a deep breath, once again imagining their reunion – and that's where the joy and trepidation come from. He longs to see her again and he wants more than anything for their reunion to be a happy one. And it will be. He's determined that it will be. Perhaps Arthur's idea for a ball is good thing. One night of peace and happiness before he has to tell her what she's destined for.
He's imagined telling her for years, played out every possible scenario in his head over and over again, and while he can't wait to hold her in his arms again, he also knows that it's finally time to tell her the thing he's been keeping from her since her birth and he worries how she will react. She'll probably be angry at first, feeling betrayed that she was never told. He prays fervently that she'll understand why they kept it from her, prays that she'll forgive him once he tells her all of their reasons.
He and Snow had made the decision together to keep her in the dark. They'd prepared as best they could without telling her of the prophecy and her roll in it, both deciding that she deserved a normal childhood free of the burden the knowledge would give her. Still, they were relieved when she took so easily to being trained in archery and swordplay, her love of adventure making them tasks she enjoyed so much that they were spared from forcing them on her and, inevitably, being forced themselves to tell her why she'd need such skills.
Later, as she grew into a young woman, they'd considered telling her again, but couldn't bring themselves to do it. She was always so determined and spirited, and telling her the importance of finding her True Love would have set her on a mission. And, knowing their daughter as well as they did, they feared she would put a little too much effort into something that should happen naturally. They didn't want her to analyze every man she met, weighing her feelings on some preconceived notion of what True Love is supposed to be.
Then she'd met Killian. It had been obvious almost right from the start that she'd been enamored with him and, as their relationship blossomed, neither he nor Snow could find it in themselves to give her – or him, for that matter – the dire news. So, they'd continued to keep their silence, trying to enjoy the beauty of watching their daughter fall in love – even while that beauty was marred by the knowledge weighing on them.
The night Killian had requested a private audience with him had been one of the best and worst of his life. The honorable Lieutenant wanted to marry his daughter and he'd given his blessing willingly, but the entire time he'd been filled with dread. The prophecy said they should never part and Killian was a naval officer, out to sea more frequently than he was on land with Emma. So, he'd insisted on Killian leaving the navy, offered him a promotion in rank to stay and join the army instead to keep him close. And it had worked. Killian had been just as eager to stay with Emma as David had been to have him stay.
Later that evening, after he and Snow had settled in for the night, he'd held her close while she wept, the knowledge that their time was running out now too obvious to ignore. They'd resolved to wait until after the wedding, when the blissfully ignorant couple returned from their honeymoon, to sit them down and tell them of the fate that had been prophesied so long ago. And, in the meantime, they would tell all of their most trusted friends, enlist the aid of all those loyal and discreet to form a plan to keep the young couple happy while also keeping them safe.
They'd thought they'd accounted for everything. They'd thought their plan was sound. Secret passages had been added to the castle, horses were kept saddled at all times in preparation. Rendezvous points were established; provisions were hidden all over the kingdom in case hasty exits were required. August and Liam had worked together endlessly to arrange transport and safe houses, places only the two of them would know about so that when the time came, there would be no way to torture or coerce the locations out of anyone else. And it should have worked. Even as David had watched that balcony collapse, he'd still believed it would work. As long as they were alive and they had August and Liam, there would be nothing to worry about…
Then the unthinkable had occurred. Not only were they separated, but Killian and Liam had been captured by Regina's soldiers and both had been executed – or at least that's what he'd been told.
He wishes he knew what really happened that day. He should have asked Killian before he sent him for Emma. Obviously, Graham had been lying, but had he been lying about all of it? What had really prompted Snow to eat that apple? What had happened Liam? Why did Regina believe Killian was dead?
He wrestles with those questions a little longer as he watches another ship appear in the harbor. It's not Emma, but one day soon it will be and, on that day, he'll get the answers he's looking for and be forced to deliver answers himself.
Joy and trepidation, indeed.
K&EK&EK&E
The sun is high when he awakes and the bed beside him is empty. Groggily, he rolls over and wipes his hand over his face.
"Good morning, sleepy head. Or should I say 'good afternoon?'"
Following the sound of her voice, he sees Emma sitting at his desk, looking over one of his maps. She folds it quickly and returns it to its holder before standing and crossing to him. She's already dressed and he wonders how late it actually is.
"Did you sleep well?"
No, he didn't. He tossed and turned, plagued with disjointed dreams of Emma and the Evil Queen, their magic locked in an epic battle of white and purple streams of light shooting in every direction while he tried to move… tried to help… But his heart was weighed down, his chest bearing a heavy burden that made his movements sluggish as he struggled to get to Emma's side. He'd awoken in a cold sweat, the image of Emma collapsing and Regina's deranged glee as she stood over Emma and produced a fire ball seared into his eyes.
"Fine, love. What time is it?"
"Nearly lunchtime," she replies, taking a seat next to him on the bed and laying her hand on his bare chest. "Are you hungry? I could go get it and bring it back if you'd like."
Her fingers are tracing patterns over his collarbone and his body reacts without his permission. Groaning, he sits up and rubs his lips over hers, "Do that and we may never get out of this cabin today, love."
He feels her smile against his mouth, her thumb running playfully over his nipple, "As much as I'd enjoy that, Dopey is already warming up for his next fencing lesson."
The words have barely passed her lips when she ducks down and sucks on the nipple she'd just brushed and he falls back to the bed, tucking his hand in her hair to bring her down with him. He watches her tongue dart out, his hand fisting when she applies more pressure.
"Darling, you're bloody amazing, but we shouldn't…" he grits out, his actions defying his words by gripping more tightly in her hair to hold her to him.
Closing his eyes, he arches his back and revels in her talented mouth, the tendrils of desire licking across his skin when she uses her teeth in a gentle nip. Bloody fuck, his heart is already pounding and she's only barely touched him, her light moan a siren's song he'd happily drown in. Her mouth moves to his neck as her hand traces down through the hair on his chest until it's only inches from where he's already growing hard. She hesitates and he sucks in a breath, her boldness apparently not quite enough to lower it further. Instead, she averts it to his hip, and it takes all his willpower not to grab it and move it back.
His breathing is heavy in his ears and it takes longer than it should for him to realize her weight is no longer on him and that she is, in fact, sitting up again with a mischievous smile playing at the corner of her lips.
"I just wanted to make sure you were awake," she says cheekily and then she's standing, tossing him his shirt and trousers while his senses are still reeling.
"I'll meet you at the helm for lunch," she nearly sing-songs as she walks to the door. "We wouldn't want to disappoint Dopey."
He shakes himself back into reality as soon as the door shuts, his lips curling at her underhanded tactics. She's more pirate than she'd care to admit.
When he joins her at the helm a few minutes later, she gives him a secret smile and he kisses it right off of her mouth with a loud smack and a louder chuckle. But as they settle in to eat, her playful demeanor slowly morphs into a nervous expression, biting at her lower lip. He considers asking what's wrong but doesn't, hoping that whatever has caused the change is something she'll voice on her own. And, as is the way of his princess, she does, looking to him with nervous eyes.
"Killian?"
"Yes, love?"
"About our visit to Portsmouth…" she hedges, obviously trying to avoid an argument but nonetheless making sure he knows this matter is far from over. "I tried the glamour spell again this morning and it's still not working."
"Emma…"
"I'm not angry," she says quickly. "Like you said yesterday, you can't help how you feel… but I… I just want you to think about something."
There's no way he can turn down the pleading expression she gives him. "What's that?" he asks.
She reaches across and lays her hand on the wrist above his hook, her voice gentle, "I know we've both changed, but we used to be a team – "
"We still are, love," he interrupts, placing his hand over hers, the action prompting her to meet his eyes.
After a beat, she tilts her head, pulling her hand from under his and sitting back in her chair to look at him with a calm but watchful expression.
"Are we?" she asks. There's no malice in the question, just sincere curiosity.
"Of course, we are," he responds.
She studies him for another moment before shaking her head. "I'm not so sure," she says, and again, there's not even a trace of anger in her voice, "I think, maybe, you consider me a bit… naïve. And maybe I am. But I'm not as naïve as I was even a few weeks ago. I know I was protected for a long time, and you weren't, but I've seen enough since we left Arendelle to understand what it is we're up against. And I'm not sure you're giving me credit for that. I think, maybe, you still see me as the princess you used to know, but I haven't been that person in a long time."
There's a raw honesty in her words that makes him sit back and consider them, taking his time to truly look at this from her side. Her nerves are gone now, replaced with an expectant and earnest expression as she waits for his reaction.
After several reflective seconds, he lays his hand palm up on the table, inviting her to take it. She doesn't hesitate, leaning forward to cover it with hers.
"You're right," he admits slowly, watching his thumb run across her knuckles. Because she is and he hadn't realized it until now. "I haven't given you enough credit. Since I found you again, my first priority has been to protect you. And I guess that protectiveness has… blinded me a bit."
He hears her shudder out a relieved breath and he raises his eyes, twisting his hand and linking their fingers together.
"We are a team, love," he assures her, "We're stronger together. Even without magic, we've always been stronger together. And I'm sorry I forgot that."
She shakes her head to let him know the apology isn't necessary, squeezing his hand in thanks.
"And, as a team," he adds, "I think we should visit Portsmouth together."
"Really?" she asks almost sheepishly.
"Really," he replies.
Her grin is near blinding – but not nearly as blinding as the light that immediately sparks between their hands. He chuckles softly, closing his eyes against it as their magic spreads through his chest. He draws a deep breath, embracing the warmth of it filling his veins before reopening his eyes, fully expecting to see the face of a stranger sitting before him. When she comes into focus, however, his brow furrows. It's still Emma before him and she obviously realizes it didn't work from the look on his face.
"You still see me?" she asks with disappointment but he doesn't have time to reply before Ruby's voice calls across the deck.
"You did it, Emma!" Ruby exclaims, rushing up the stairs to join them.
Emma's eyes shoot back to him and she gives him a surprised but delighted smile. She starts to say something but is interrupted when Ruby pulls her from her chair, insisting that she do a quick spin so she can examine her closely. "Nice job! Gwen's own mother wouldn't be able to tell the two of you apart."
The two hug enthusiastically, both laughing before Ruby breaks away. She glances between the two of them with a smile that looks almost like pride then steps back.
"Well, I'll just go and tell the others, shall I?" she says. Then without waiting or a response, she's off again in a flurry of red skirts.
Once she's disappeared, Emma turns back to him, bending at the waist to where their eyes are level and bracketing her arms around his neck.
"Thank you," she says with soft sincerity, then surges forward to place a chaste but firm kiss on his mouth.
"I didn't do anything," he tells her.
"You believed in us," she replies, "that's all it took."
She's pushing his chair back in the next second, giving herself enough room to plop down on his lap and hug him fiercely and he laughs into her neck. After planting several kisses on each of his cheeks, she sits up, directing his eyes to hers with her thumb on his chin.
"You do still see me, don't you?"
"Aye. You can't hide from me, princess."
"As if I would ever want to."