"Lover of the Light"
He supposes he has always been enamored of the color, Killian Jones muses as he delves his fingers into the soft, shimmering blonde strands of Emma's hair. Just touching her pale, corn silk yellow locks, he marvels again that he is the one she finally allows to hold her, to be this close when she needs someone to lean on. For a moment he is lost in the feel of the long, luxurious strands, letting the very sensation carry him back…
While he'd still been a wee lad, there had been a pond near the little cottage he shared with his father, mother, and Liam at the edge of their village. Though their father had often been gone, his mother loved to go on walks with her boys to the pond or down paths through the little forest glade nearby, to sing to them and tell them stories, or to show them how to bake and tend the vegetable and herb garden she kept. Killian didn't remember much about her – dark curls, lilting voice, and warm, caring hands – it had been so very long ago, and he had still been so young. What he did remember was how he always wanted to go to the pond.
He had loved skipping stones on the water, watching the way the breeze ruffled its surface, feeling of the cool water on his feet and ankles when they went wading, and he remembered his awed joy the day they had encountered a mother duck and her young. The little ducklings had seemed as curious about this wide-eyed, dark-haired human boy as he had been about them. Killian had stood ever so still, his ma warning him softly from farther back not to startle them, as one particularly bold duckling paddled its way closer and closer, observing this stranger in its waters. It had tilted its head curiously, and without even realizing it, Killian had done the same. The tiny bird looked so soft and cuddly, still covered in bright downy yellow striped with brown. The little boy he had been couldn't resist taking one more step closer and stretching out his hand to touch the wild bird. The duckling had hesitated, paused there on the water's surface, and then Killian had stepped in a hole on the pond bottom, lost his balance, and floundered for a moment before falling down with a splash. When he surfaced just a few seconds later, the duckling had already zipped away to his mother and siblings, startled into keeping his distance by the noise and sudden movement. His ma was at his side in the next moment, asking if he'd hurt himself and gathering him in a hug, soothing his disappointed little sniffles. Liam had shook his head in that superior, big brother way he had begun to take on, smirking when he asked, "What did you think would happen, Kil? It's a wild thing after all. Wouldn't have let you just pick it up and cuddle it."
That night as she stoked the little fire that kept their cottage warm, his ma had tucked him in and stroked her hand through his unruly black hair, humming a gentle little melody as he eyes grew heavy, even while he fought to stay awake just a bit longer. "Don't you worry, my sweet lad. You keep reaching for the things you love. The most precious treasures are often simple…and fleeting…but don't let that keep you from holding them while you can." Her smile was still calm and loving, but even as young as he was, Killian had seen the wistful sadness in her eyes. Though he didn't understand her words then, he had never forgotten them and had found his life proved them all too true.
When he had become a young naval lieutenant some years later, he had loved the crisp, smart uniform he wore. The bright yellow edging against the dark navy jacket never failed to catch his eye, and he each time they set out on a new mission the donned his uniform with pride. His love of the open water – the way it stretched to the horizon and stirred in the breeze – had never diminished, and was equaled now only by his love of adventure and hopes for glorious service.
The chance to follow his brother, the very fact that Liam had become a captain in the king's navy, and that he himself had earned the rank of lieutenant, still stirred his blood and made him thrill with pleasure. He did all he could to serve his monarch, his country, and the brother he loved and admired, with good form and faultless obedience. Sometimes, he found himself standing at the bow of the ship awaiting orders, merely tracing the bright yellow line along his cuff in admiring disbelief while they put out to see.
It was only when Liam was lost to him forever, taken from him by a despicable poison and treacherous king, and the starched naval jacket had been thrown into the waves as he swore himself to piracy, that Killian ceased to be drawn to the color.
From there it had been all about gold, the deeper, richer sheen of the coins they took as he and his crew boarded other ships and took their haul for their own. He never looked or felt more a pirate than when he dug his hand into the treasure chest of a conquered ship and held a handful of the glittering doubloons. Bringing that first coin to his nose, almost as if he could catch the scent of the food and ale it would buy, the bath and the fresh, clean fabric of the new clothes they would all be wearing thanks to their spoils, gave him the closest to a feeling of pride and accomplishment he could achieve by then.
Contrary to popular belief, it was never about growing rich or striking fear; instead each pile of gold amassed meant longer before they would have to attack again, another stretch of time he could know his men were cared for, that his ship – Liam's ship – would be kept in top condition, and that he would not have to wound or kill to see it done. The bright young lieutenant with dreams of honor and heroism still lie beneath the surface of the hurting, vengeful pirate. A strike against the king made it enough to keep him going, but the tempting sheen of gold never equaled the cheery yellow he once delighted in.
When Emma had appeared to him that day in the Enchanted Forest, standing over him with distrusting eyes and hands on hips as he was pulled from under the bodies of Cora's victims, he had been struck almost immediately by her pale halo of hair and how much she looked like a brilliant warrior angel. Nothing she had done after that – not grabbing him and putting a knife to his throat, not threatening to leave him tied to a tree for the ogres, not even her double crossing him atop the beanstalk – had eased his awe and attraction even slightly…
All these memories flash through his mind in brief instants as Emma tackles him to her bed in her parents' loft, trembling with relief and enthusiasm as her arms wrap around him and hold on tight, that glorious blonde hair cascading down to hide both their faces in flowing waves.
When they finally sit up again, still so close their foreheads practically rest against each other, Killian can see she is struggling to say something, biting her lip and looking at him as though she fears he will disappear again right before her eyes. He waits with baited breath, unable to stop stroking his good hand through her bright, lovely hair, nor to tear his eyes from her beloved face. He senses what Emma wants to say, but he will not push her.
Her eyes lower then, looking almost ashamed of herself, and when she does speak, thanking him for the sacrifice he made in the Author's alternate universe, Killian knows it is not what she intended to tell him. He cannot hide a second's dismay in his gaze, but it passes quickly. As he has told Emma all along, he's a patient man. After so many years lost in pain and anger, unloved and unloving, hopelessly sure that would never change, he can wait for Emma to say the words he already knows she feels. Gazing on his brilliant, shining lass, Killian smiles at her easily, letting her know it is alright and that he understands.
He wants to hold onto her light as long as he can. She is the pale, yellow sun who has guided him from the long, dark night his soul was lost in, and he will follow her to the ends of the earth, wherever she wishes to go. She is the greatest treasure he has ever found. Granted, he has long desired to speak the words locked within his heart, but surely now that Rumple and the Author have been defeated, they will have time. Until then, he will continue to show his golden princess just how much it means to him that she has brought brightness and joy back into his life.