"The Lonely Never Sleep"
Rest doesn't come easily – or at all – when his Swan is lost somewhere none of them can follow. One week, and then two, pass with no sign of Emma, no response when they finally attempt summoning her with the dagger, and no leads on how to get hold of a portal even if they knew where to follow her. It wears on Killian Jones in a way not even ages as the fearsome Captain Hook had done. Sleep eludes him, bringing only horrible nightmares when he does manage to close his eyes, visions of Emma in torment just beyond his grasp. He is unable to help her waking or sleeping, and the exhaustion paints dark, purple bruises beneath his eyes that even his pirate liner cannot hide, making Snow meet his gaze with pity over the breakfast table. He can tell she wants to mother him, to make him feel better, almost as she would do for her daughter, and it twists his gut just that much more. He isn't the only one in pain; the prince and princess have lost their daughter yet again, and they are left with the broken man she chose and their own regrets.
He had followed Emma's family home the night Emma left them standing aghast in the middle of the street, staring at the dagger which now bore her name. David had insisted he shouldn't be alone, and when Henry was told what had happened, he wanted Killian to stay with them too. He hadn't had the heart to deny their wishes, and left alone he knew he would either return to excessive comfort-seeking in rum or use the dagger to try and summon her to him the first chance he got – whether or not it was safe for either of them. Most days he accompanies Dave to the station and attempts to help Emma's father pick up the slack by filing or answering the phones, but the fact that the only empty desk for him to sit in is hers makes even that a painful place to be. Sometimes he escapes to the Jolly for a few hours, seeking the quiet calm that he has always found on her decks staring out at the waves and feeling a cool wind in his face, but even there, peace is in short supply. So for fear of what he might fall into and wanting to be available the moment they know a course of action, he has stayed in the loft that was Emma's home with the family she had just truly begun to let herself love.
To his complete surprise, Snow had insisted he could bunk in his Swan's room. He doesn't know if it is because he is the closest thing to her daughter she has now and so seeks anything she can do to cheer him, or if she senses how desperately he needs to be in Emma's space, as near to any semblance of her as he possibly can be. Whatever the reasoning, staying in her room, seeing all her things, is both a comfort and a torture. He simply wants her back where she belongs.
This particular night, almost three weeks after Emma's departure, drags on just like the many before it. Killian stares at the ceiling, watching the moon's glow wash a path of eerie light over the walls. Closing his eyes and slowing his breathing prove fruitless while her enticing honey-cinnamon scent on the pillows haunts him.
With a frustrated growl, Killian sits up, flings the covers away, and rakes his hand through his mussed hair. Sleep is not coming, and he can't pace the floors without waking everyone else, so he must get out. Pulling on the pants he flung over her desk chair mere hours before and donning his more modern leather jacket over the white T-shirt he wears without bothering to change further, he steps out of the room, quickly descends the stairs, and slips out the door onto the quiet streets of Storybrooke.
Having no specific path in mind, only knowing that he must move, must burn off this frustration and agitated energy he feels, Killian begins to wander aimlessly down the main street. It is the wee, dark of early morning and he would wager that no one else should be awake to wonder at his strange behavior regardless of where his footsteps lead him.
However, as he reaches the clock tower at the town's center, he sees a pale light burning toward the back of the library beneath it. Curious, he ventures closer, sure that his eyes must be deceiving him. Normally, even Belle with her tendency to get wrapped up in whatever tome she is reading, would be asleep by now, and even if she would not, she would usually be in her own upstairs apartment above her place of employ. Suddenly, a mixture of wanting the companionship of some other sleepless soul, the chance that she could have discovered something helpful to their search, or the possibility that something could be amiss and his friend in some sort of trouble, combine to bring Killian right to the library's front step and have him rapping the curved edge of his hook on the solid wooden door.
At first, he hears nothing and receives no answer, in this town Belle may quite rightly have more sense than to open the door for anyone knocking in the middle of the night. But then he thinks he hears shuffling footsteps coming closer and muttering in her adorably unique accent, before hearing the lock click and seeing a sliver of Belle's face peer out of the crack as she opens the door.
"Oh, Killian," she says, looking both relieved and confused and opening the entryway further, gesturing that he is welcome to come in. "It's you. What brings you here in the middle of the night?"
He scratches behind his ear, looking from her earnest face to the floor and the toes of his boots. "I couldn't sleep…nothing so unusual there…but I needed to get out. As I was walking, I saw your light on, and I …um…wanted to make sure you were well, Lass. One never knows what might happen next in this place," he finishes, feeling utterly ridiculous.
Belle, true to form and her kind nature, gives him a small smile and ushers him further into the library, leading her new friend through the maze of book stacks to the very back where she has piled several thick dusty tomes on a table next to a lamp which no doubt provided the light he saw from outside. "Well, you're welcome to join me. Truth be told, I couldn't sleep either, and thought I might as well try to do some more research."
"Aye, I can help with that," Killian affirms with a quick, grateful nod, seating himself near the stack of books as well, and looking to her for further instruction.
Seating herself in her original chair, Belle begins sifting through the books, handing certain volumes to him and speaking rapidly as she does. "I know that we've all done some looking and thinking into the more well-known stories of Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot, but I still don't think any of us really know where Camelot is located, if it can be reached, or if that is certainly where Merlin can still be found. Nor do we know if that is where Emma went…" she trails off here, her eyes finding Killian's across the volumes between them, hesitating as if she fears inflicting injury by speaking Emma's name.
Killian merely swallows hard and nods to her, indicating that he understands and wishes her to continue. As she speaks, he notices how drawn and pale Belle's face truly is. Her usually rosy cheeks and happy, inviting smile are gone, replaced by a softer, sadder tone and expression. Not only is she here burning the midnight oil trying to help them find a way to the Savior, but she has lost her husband, her True Love, whether Rumple ever wakes or not. This woman before him, so good hearted and compassionate, has been dealt more trial and pain in her young life than any one person deserves, some of it by his own hand, and Killian is struck with a wash of compassion for her.
Belle's explanation comes to an end without him having heard the middle of her statement, "…and so I thought I would look into some of the more obscure texts that I found in the back of Rumple's shop, along with several British histories and books of legend and lore. If you want to take those, and I'll continue with these…Who knows? Perhaps we'll find something of value?"
Killian nods his assent, but before they both bend over the books in front of them, he reaches across to lightly rest a hand atop hers, wanting to offer even a moment's assurance and comfort if he can. It is hard to speak around the lump in his throat and words do not seem adequate to express the thoughts swirling in his brain, so he settles on a simple, "Thank you, Belle," and hold her eyes until he hopes she is sure of the depth and sincerity in his simple speech.
She clears her throat, glances away for a moment, and when she looks at him once more, Killian sees that she is blinking back tears before answering. "It's not easy, is it?" she states haltingly, "Loving someone whom you fear might no longer be the person you fell in love with?"
He does not know how to answer that, knowing Belle understands this dilemma more than anyone else could, but unable to even consider Emma no longer being the brilliant, heroic lass he has known. He cannot entertain the idea of her being twisted by evil into something more powerful and horrible than she would ever wish them to see or he will simply go mad. He looks down and shakes the frightening image of a dark, vengeful fallen angel from his mind, unable to form an answer.
Belle's voice breaks back in, soft and placating. "I don't think Emma will be the same as Rumple, though," she continues, to which he meets her eyes again hopefully. "I've spent too many years of my life loving a deeply flawed man, trying to cling to that bit of him I glimpsed years ago hiding behind the beast." She sighs. "Rumple has always acted out of fear – and desire for power to curb that fear. Emma took on the curse out of love. She did it to save the rest of us. I don't think the Darkness will have as easy a time taking her over as it did Rumple."
Killian squeezes her hand, and Belle squeezes back, each offering a bit of solidarity and support where more words would fail. He is grateful for her assessment of the situation and he hopes she is right. This petite, soft-spoken librarian knows more about what he is facing than most would assume by looking at her. Belle French is made of tough mettle, and he hopes that somewhere in her near future some happiness and honest love will finally be her reward.
He bends his head to return to his reading, hoping that this will be the tome that yields the clue they need. Belle stands, however, and asks, "Why don't I brew us some tea to drink as we're reading?"
"That sounds lovely, Lass," he says, craving the small bit of normalcy that simply reading and sipping a cup of tea would offer. Regardless of the urgency of their task and the importance of the subject matter, at least he feels he is no longer alone in this bleak night turned early morning.
Belle gets up and shuffles away. He hears her light tread on the stairs up to her apartment, and the distant sounds of someone running water and filling a tea kettle. Returning to his reading, Killian feels his eyelids growing suspiciously heavy, more than they have done in some time; in truth, since Emma has been gone. Determinedly he tries to push on, now that he has at least found some useful outlet for his insomnia.
When she returns with two steaming cups of chamomile tea, Belle is at first startled and then feels a rush of sympathetic affection to find Killian asleep with his head in the book she gave him and good hand clutched around what appears to be Emma's swan pendant. Settling back in for her research, she hopes the captain will not be troubled by nightmares now that he has finally found a bit of sleep.