I own nothing except my delusions.
Emma felt exhaustion creep into her body as she walked back to the camp, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the tent she was sharing with Mary Margaret, David, and Henry and crawl into her cot.
She missed having an actual bed but knew it was nothing more than a luxury; she had slept in much worse places than a cot before.
Praying the others in their small camp wouldn't ask her to do a supply run, she passed over some of her communal weapons to Mulan so the other woman could store them with the others.
Seeming to read her, Mulan glanced up from where she was cleaning some of the guns. "A small group is going out to do a run with David and Mary Margaret. I'm heading out with them in a minute. Looks like you get a break."
Surprised at the news that Mary Margaret was choosing to go out, Emma couldn't help sighing in relief, nodding. "Alright. Thanks."
As she began to move away, she heard Mulan call out to her again.
"Emma," the other woman called.
Turning back to face her, she raised her brow curiously.
"Mary Margaret and David asked me to ask you to check on him," she said quietly, tilting her head inconspicuously over to the dark blue tent nestled among the others.
Even if the others were kept in the dark, everyone in the camp knew to watch over Killian, as well as keep an eye on Neal.
Silently nodding, Emma checked around the camp as she moved over to the tents, seeing where everyone was. Henry sat beside Ian, seeing he was showing her son some metal object he held. Lance sat near a small fire cleaning some kills with Neal, while some of the others took care of basic chores around the camp.
Making sure Neal wasn't watching her, she walked to the tents, passing hers to stop at the one next to it.
Hesitating as she suddenly felt unsure, she dropped her voice to be just loud enough for anyone inside to hear. "Killian?"
His voice was muffled as he responded. "Come in."
Checking again to be sure no one was watching her, she slipped in, quickly closing the flaps behind her. Turning, she saw Killian with his back to her sitting in one of the camp chairs that belonged to the brothers.
Moving closer, she saw his left sleeve pushed up, fiddling with what looked like a black brace he was wearing over his blunted wrist.
"You shouldn't have anything on like that," she told him quietly. "Killian, you're still healing. It's only been a couple weeks since you lost it and you need time to heal. Asa said-"
"I don't have time for that," he said in frustration, but she knew it wasn't at her. "I can't be bloody helpless. I need to do something instead of just sitting around useless while everyone is out there risking their lives-"
He stopped himself, exhaling heavily as he rested his head in his hand.
Her chest clenching in what she knew was sympathy, Emma moved so she could kneel down in front of him, hesitating before resting a comforting hand on his knee.
"Killian, no one blames you," she said gently. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard all of this is for you. But you have to let yourself heal."
He lifted his head to look at her, letting her see his lifeless eyes.
"I can't just wait around for this to heal," he said brokenly. "I have to help take care of the camp, but I don't know how. I'm useless now. I can't go on supply runs right now. I can't go out to check the area because everyone is afraid that I'm vulnerable because I'm missing my hand. I can't even do some of the bloody chores around here."
Not even realizing she was moving to do it, she reached forward to cup his cheek, stroking over a scar under his eye with her thumb. His scruff had grown out, forming more of a short beard than the stubble he wore when she first met him.
Surprising herself more than her sudden performance of the intimate action, she found she was reluctant to pull away, wanting to comfort him in any way she could.
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes.
"I should have been the one everyone buried that day," he whispered brokenly. "Liam should still be alive. I should be the one dead instead."
"Killian," she said softly.
He shook his head, but not enough to push her hand away as he opened his eyes. "Liam was a far better man than I am. He should be the one still alive instead of me. And I don't even remember what happened."
Her chest aching impossibly more, she moved closer to him, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as if to prevent him from breaking. Just as he was feeling physical pain from having his hand brutally amputated, he was feeling intense emotional pain as well, mourning the loss of his brother.
He slid out of his chair so he was kneeling with her on the floor, pulling his own arms around her just as tightly.
She was careful of his blunted wrist as she embraced him, not wanting to cause him any further discomfort.
"What's worse is the bastard knew something was going to happen," he muttered bitterly. "He fucking knew it, yet-"
He cut himself off, not wanting to continue as he began to pull away.
Confused at his statement, Emma rested her hand back on his face, drawing his eyes to her. "What do you mean?"
Killian reached into the front of his shirt, drawing one of his chains out. A single silver ring was strung on it, a red stone resting in the middle of the band.
"This was my brother's lucky ring," he explained. "You already know that my brother and I didn't have a good childhood. Liam got this when he was young, and always kept it with him. Somehow, we always managed no matter how bad the situation, so Liam started telling me it was because this was lucky.
"The day we were all fishing in that creek, he gave it to me," he continued, his voice beginning to break. "He told me he had a feeling that it was time for me to have it and it was his job to protect me."
"You couldn't have known," she tried to soothe him. "Neither of you could have."
"It doesn't change the fact that he gave it to me, and now he's dead," he argued weakly.
Emma had no experience in dealing with survivor's guilt, much less how to talk to someone who was suffering from it. Adding to the fact that Killian lived while his brother, the man who single handedly raised him and was the only family he had until recently, had died, made it worse.
She knew there was no way she could tell him what David and Mary Margaret suspected, what she knew in her gut to be true, that Neal had literally pulled the trigger that led to Liam's death. Killian would immediately tear away from her to go after Neal, resulting in a fight that wouldn't end until one of the men were dead. Killian was in no condition, his wound far too fresh and the possibility of him being injured too high.
"He did it to protect you," Emma told Killian softly. "It's no different than what I would do for Henry. Or even David and Mary Margaret. Liam loved you, Killian."
Not knowing what prompted her to do it, if she was just overly tired or the hurt she felt for him, she leaned forward, gently pressing her forehead to his.
He froze for a moment before cradling her face in his hand.
"What's this for?'" he asked. There wasn't any flirtation in his voice, just amazed curiosity at her initiating the intimacy as he continued to hold her close to him.
"You're hurting," she told him softly as she stroked her thumb over the scar on his cheek.
She caught sight of whatever it was he was trying to fit onto his wrist, black and silver catching her eye.
"What were you trying to do, anyway?" she asked, gesturing to his left arm.
He looked down at it, drawing it closer so she could see it. Over the white bandage covering his wrist, black leather encompassed it, straps wrapping around it held together with metal buckles. The seams were roughly sewn, evidence that he had done it himself. Out of the end where his hand should have been, it was rounded off, but revealed that something was meant to attach to it.
"You've been working on this?" she asked quietly, unable to help feeling impressed at the job he did.
He gave her a small nod. "Aye. I wanted it to be ready for when these bandages come off."
She nodded, reaching for his arm. She stopped herself, realizing what she was doing.
"It's alright, Swan," he said softly. "It's not like you can make it hurt anymore than it already does."
Flinching, she looked back to see his open yet wary expression. Tentatively, she touched his arm, feeling the makeshift brace under her fingers. She noticed him relax, as if he had been afraid she wouldn't want to touch his wrist.
"Where did you get the leather?" she asked curiously, knowing she had seen the design of the straps and buckles before.
"Liam's old jacket," Killian told her in a near whisper.
"So you can keep another piece of him with you," she surmised, feeling a fresh wave of emotion wash over her.
"Aye," he nodded.
Seeing the harder, firmer part at the end, her fingers gently grazed it. "What are you adding onto it?"
He surprised her by offering her a small smirk, reaching up onto his cot and pulling something from it. He twisted the end into the brace, his face pinching in pain for a moment, before he raised his arm, showing his gleaming silver hook.
"I think your lad may like this, love," he said, smiling. "Though I can't deny it's been an effective weapon so far out here."
"The dead have been rising, and you're becoming Captain Hook?" she asked, fighting a chuckle.
He shrugged lightly. "Why not? It doesn't hurt that I'm a dashing sailor, either."
Emma smiled in amusement, happy that his somber mood had seemingly passed.
"You know Doc is gonna be pissed that you're messing with your wrist," she told him.
"I need to be ready when this is healed," he argued without any bite. "Swan, I can't be a liability. I have to be able to protect everyone."
Breathing out heavily, she closed her eyes. "You won't be."
"But what if I can't do everything anymore?" he asked.
"You'll still be able to do everything," she replied confidently. "But you need to take it easy for right now."
Killian sighed heavily before nodding, his hand going to the buckles of his brace. He pulled it off, revealing the bandages beneath.
"Do you want me to help you change your bandages?" she offered quietly, completely willing to assist him, having seen the injury before, even after it had began healing.
"It's alright, love," he responded. "I can take care of the wrappings myself."
Emma nodded in understanding, knowing more than anyone else about not wanting to appear weak or vulnerable in front of others.
"Are you sure you're okay in here?" she asked, not wanting to leave him alone if he needed someone else to stay with him.
He shook his head. "I'm alright, Swan. Go rest, I know you need it."
She looked at him in surprise.
"You look exhausted," he said with a small smile. "I know you have to be tired. I'm okay on my own."
Letting out a small chuckle, she shook her head before standing. "Alright."
She held out a hand, offering to help him up, which he accepted.
Giving him one last small smile, she left the tent, heading back to her own tent.
Reluctantly opening his eyes in the dim morning light, Killian fought back a groan. He felt some pain in his arm, the flesh tender around where his hand had been.
Deciding to hold off for a little while before changing his bandages and cleaning his wound, he grabbed onto a shirt to pull on, struggling slightly with the buttons. Careful not to wake Ian, he slipped out, breathing in the forest air around the camp.
Only a couple of people were awake, Chase and Ron on a log serving as a makeshift bench while Leroy poked at the low bonfire and added a few small logs. David sat at a slightly further distance off, Emma beside him.
Surprised at her being awake because of her obvious exhaustion the previous day, Killian quietly moved closer to them, only drawing their attention when he was a few feet away.
"Morning," David greeted quietly, mindful of the near silence in the camp.
Killian nodded as he moved to sit with them. "Morning."
"How's your wrist?" Emma asked him.
"Hurts," he shrugged. "Nothing too unusual now."
"How's it looking?" David asked him.
Hiding his furtive glance at Emma, he realized she hadn't told anyone of the brace he had made with his hook.
"Good yesterday," he said, answering David's question. "I haven't checked it this morning. I doubt Ian wishes to wake up to see me pulling shards of bone from my wrist."
David's features twisted into that of disdain. "Good call."
Smirking, Killian shook his head.
He sat with them, watching as the rest of the camp stirred awake.
Knowing they were to remain for a couple of days so they could have some more rest before going back on the road, he felt himself relax, knowing there wasn't an urgency to pack up and go.
He fought with everything he had to hold back a smirk as he saw Neal emerge from his tent on the far side of camp and throw him a dirty look. The other man continued on, moving towards the tree line.
"Neal," David called, his voice full of authority. "Where are you going?"
"Take it easy, I'm just setting up some snares," Neal replied. "We need to eat, don't we?"
He took off again towards the treeline, disappearing into the forest.
"Idiot," Emma muttered.
Killian nodded in agreement. His brow pinched, Neal's words niggling at something in the back of his mind.
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