chapter nine ~ clear by daylight
When the first rays of sun pierced through the minute cracks and crevices of the rough wooden walls surrounding him the next morning, Killian Jones was already blinking his eyes into wakefulness and squinting to adjust to the dawn. He had always risen early; his animal instincts honed and sharp, too alert to the world around him to remain unaware while the bustle and stir of day began. When he and Liam had gone to sea, the rhythms of life on a ship, plus their low status which gave them the worst (and earliest) chores, had cemented his natural inclination to the point that it was almost impossible for him to sleep late. The very fact that he was waking to warm, golden light spilling across the cabin floor from the sun already risen in the sky, rather than to the first pale streaks of its appearance at dawn, spoke volumes toward what had occurred between he and Emma just a few hours ago, to the peace and calm it had brought him, and just how comfortable he was with her there at his side.
Glancing down at the beautiful woman lying tucked under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, Killian simply had to marvel at the way his fate had turned around because of her. Emma huffed slightly, wrinkling her nose at some itch in her sleep and snuggling still closer. He reached out to brush stray tendrils of golden hair from her face and to plant a kiss atop her head, whether she was awake to notice it or not. Clearly she had none of the difficulty he did in sleeping deeply, as she showed no further signs of stirring and was releasing a soft wheeze of a snore with each long, languid exhale.
He would take the moment to linger happily. Continuing to idly stroke her silky hair and then up and down her soft, bare shoulder in turn, Killian wanted nothing more than to stretch the glowing moment to its very limit, and bask in the happiness he felt warming his chest. Happiness he had not been certain he would ever feel again. This woman curled in his embrace was already so precious to him, already filling so much of the aching emptiness he had harbored for so long and giving him hope. Hope he'd not felt so strongly since he was yet a pup - before the loss and pain he had been swallowed by had taken hold. Much had colored his world to a darkened grey which had shown no sign of lightening until Emma blazed into his world, brightening and broadening his horizon until he could again see more than his revenge and probable death in carrying it out. Once more he had something to live for, not merely survive.
"You cannot even fathom all that you have done for me, Love," Killian murmured into the slope of her shoulder, his voice still warm and husky with the fading vestiges of sleep. Closing his eyes briefly, preparing to make himself comfortable and enjoy every last second of this rest with her in his embrace, Killian let his mind drift back to the moment when she first appeared to him, stalking down the street toward Gold's shop with her parents trailing after less certainly but clearly unwilling to let her out of their sight. She'd appeared as if she were ready to breathe fire, her forehead creased in consternation and telling both Snow White and Prince Charming themselves that Gold owed them some answers and it was time he supplied them. He was stunned by her even then, breathing as raggedly as if he'd been struck full in the chest by the recklessly righteous whirlwind this Deputy Swan had made for as she blew by all red leather jacket, shining badge, and deliciously snug breeches caressing her every curve, just as he suddenly found his hand wishing to do. He harbored no doubt then, as he pulled further back into the shadows between buildings where he lurked, having only recently arrived on his ship with Cora and still watching and waiting, getting the lay of the land, that this Swan would have smacked him silly for such a frank and lustful reaction, but that didn't halt or abate his appreciation in the slightest. Even then, she was world-altering as he had watched her charge through the door of the pawn shop with her two noble followers in tow and disappeared from his sight.
From that moment on, he had been unable to resist looking for her, even following and learning more about her when he could get away with it. He knew now that though he'd remained undetected, Emma had sensed someone watching and been unnerved by it, which he regretted. Still, he'd been pulled along in her wake, drawn as if by a magnet, and he simply hadn't been able to resist. He could never have fathomed then that he would come to know her, have her befriend him and change his course utterly; much less that she would save his life, offer him her body, and - he believed - her tentative, fragile heart as well.
"How could I have imagined an old sea dog like meself would hold such treasure?" he breathed, still quietly awed against the downier hairs at her part near the crown of her head.
At that, Emma shuffled a bit, burrowing against his chest and digging her nose into his sternum sharply, her still-garbled sleepy voice barely intelligible and asking, "What are you mumbling about, Pirate?"
Smirking down at her, where he could see Emma had slitted one eye open, peeking out at him curiously, the bright green sparkling in the cabin's dim interior. Just as she had done mere hours before when they had come together, he trailed his able hand over her naked behind, and where she had squeezed, he gave the pert cheek a pinch before smoothing further over its rounded curve and between her shapely legs. "Now, now, Lass," he warned, melodious voice low and laden with temptation, "no teasing a man besotted with you...especially when he is in the position to make you squirm."
With those words, he let his fingers press forward, causing Emma's eyes to shoot open wide and a harsh gasp to escape her lovely lips. She wriggled against him at the delicious onslaught, making her nipples rub against his chest in a way that tormented them both, and he could do nothing other than press his advantage, both pirate and ravenous wolf surging to the fore as he slid his fingers deeper into the wet heat of her treasure and Emma practically writhed against him, bucking her hips and urging him on.
The evil grin he gave before incongruously soothing kisses across her brow quieted his love only minimally as he murmured, "See, Darling? Never cross a pirate," before deftly withdrawing his fingers to her growl of protest.
"Kilian - ah - don't!" she whined, her voice high pitched in her desperation, nails scratching through the hair on his chest as if in retaliation for his torment. When he didn't relent, she threw back her head with a moan before finally panting, "Fine, fine, you win! No more teasing," against his bicep.
Satisfied by her capitulation, and more than a bit desperate and on edge himself, Killian plunged his sure fingers back to their former task, to Emma's cries of renewed pleasure. He barely noticed until it twinged while they lay tangled together and panting afterward that she'd bitten down on his bicep in the intensity of her release. He couldn't bring himself to mind in the slightest.
Thankfully, that morning was a Saturday, and back in town Henry had no school - nor did Mary Margaret, who planned to return to her teaching post fresh with the new week. It seemed a perfect opportunity to take her grandson to meet the town's sweet new resident for brunch at Granny's and see if he and Belle would hit it off as wonderfully as she anticipated. She had checked in with Emma briefly the previous evening, just before she and Charming had turned in for the night. Both because her mother's heart needed to know that Emma was safe and well, and because it seemed only right to be certain Emma was okay with her idea to let Henry try to jog Belle's memory and help her to acclimate. As she had expected, Emma was fine with her plan - felt it was a brilliant one, in fact - and was grateful to her for watching Henry a bit longer as well. What Mary Margaret hadn't expected was the soft, relaxed tone in her grown daughter's voice. So often, Emma's voice was tense, the strain and worry of so many depending on her, demanding the time and attention of "the Savior" that as a mother she ached for the strain it placed on her child. Emma had just regained her family, only begun to discover who she truly was, and yet it always seemed there was a new calamity or foe demanding her focus instead of her being able to settle in, gain her equilibrium, and simply enjoy the fact that she no longer had to be alone.
However, Mary Margaret had heard none of that in her daughter's voice when they spoke. Instead, she realized after some reflection, Emma had sounded happy. Despite the danger they had been in, despite the injuries Killian had sustained, it was clear that Emma was comfortable and at peace, even for just the few brief moments they had spoken over the phone. The Enchanted Forest's former princess could only shake her head in humored disbelief at the thought of her baby girl finding love with a pirate werewolf. In a way though, she supposed it made sense; she and David might be royalty, but they were also a bandit and a humble shepherd. No matter who he was, she knew Emma's centered calm was due to him, and for that she was incredibly thankful to Killian Jones. She would tell him so, she decided with a playful twinkle in her eye and a bob of that determined chin which her daughter shared, the very next time she saw him.
With that matter firm in her mind, Mary Margaret turned from the counter where she was sat to glance over once more at Henry and Belle (who was clearly on her way to becoming Henry's new best friend as she listened wide-eyed and nodded along to every word his said, eyes wide in rapt attention for each new page he showed her) where they were ensconced in Granny's corner booth. Pleased with her morning's work, Mary Margaret raised her cup of hot chocolate to sip and greeted Granny Lucas herself when she bustled out from the kitchen, and exchanged a meaningful look with Ruby who hurried by with a load of dishes from the dwarves' early meal before heading out to the mines. (Yes, even on Saturday, they'd informed Snow once. She still chuckled and shook her head, remembering it.) Her former housemates literally headed off to work happily, axes on their shoulders and whistling 'Heigh Ho'.
Oblivious to Snow's plan, Belle and Henry were in their own little world on the other side of the diner. Belle asked the young man who knew the tales in his treasured book as well as his own history, numerous questions, and gradually - like a faucet slowly being turned on from the barest dribble to a full flow - she felt bits and pieces of memories, more and more of the experiences in her former life, returning to her. Who she was and where she had been crescendoed in her chest as it returned to her in fuller detail. The re-emergence was both exhilarating to feel more herself again, and horrifying in equal measure as she once more registered all she'd been through.
Though she struggled valiantly to keep the tears that had formed in her eyes from falling freely, Henry must still have perceptively sensed the change in her mood. She was still looking at the storybook page he had displayed before her - one which depicted Regina going to Rumple's Dark Castle and telling him that she had been killed - by her own father no less. Rumple had believed she was dead all these years, murdered because she had cared who he could be, the man behind the monster, when Regina knew all along she held his love captive. Belle realized all this through a sort of stunned haze, and she knew her eyes must have appeared a bit glazed and unfocused, but she couldn't help the way this formerly unknown portion of the tale left her reeling. The destruction he had wrought once the Evil Queen departed, also in vivid detail on the pages, showed her just how affected he had been by her presence. More than she'd even realized herself. If she hadn't stormed off that day...if the Evil Queen hadn't captured her while she was returning...if things had been different...Would Rumple still be the beastly villain he was currently proving himself - or would he have been the good man she'd seen peeping through the facade all those months she'd spent as his maid, the man she knew he could be?
The timid, eleven-year-old hand that came to rest softly on her arm startled her slightly from her melancholy reverie. Henry's big brown eyes held a sympathy much too wise for his years as he offered her a hopeful smile. He had spent his entire young life coddled and catered to, yes, but also as a prop, a possession in Regina's quest for her own satisfaction. "Belle?" he asked anxiously, his voice concerned for her in a way which made the starting tears she was holding back prickle in her eyes all the more. "Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?"
She placed her own delicate hand atop Henry's, returning the soft press of his fingers with hers and offering him a tremulous but sincere smile. "I'll be fine, Henry. You needn't worry. The memories flooding back were just a bit overwhelming, that's all. You did nothing wrong."
He smiled widely, the action made even more adorable by the spot where he was missing one late baby tooth. "Are you sure?" he pressed. "I didn't mean to upset you. We can stop for now if you'd rather."
She shook her head vigorously, wrapped a thin arm around his gangly shoulders and hugged him tight. "No, let's finish this one at least," she urged, wanting to make certain he didn't feel badly or think he'd upset her. Beyond that, painful as it might be, she needed to know all which had come before and been lost in 28 years' fog - particularly where she and Rumple were concerned - if she was to be any sort of help in what was yet to come.
Henry nodded, this time appearing reassured, and bent his head back to the storybook, re-reading yet one more time. Belle was about to do the same when the jangling of the chime at the diner's entrance got her attention. Looking up to see who had arrived, she was enthralled by the near halo the afternoon sun shining through the glass made around his trim form. Already someone who signalled warmth and security to her after having rescued her from a long, waking nightmare, the sun's effect just then only intensified her impression of Graham Humbert as he stood framed in gilded light there in the entryway, looking every bit as stunned by her when their eyes met as she was by him.
Belle found herself having to steady her breathing and exhale slowly, trying to instill calm as he eventually stepped further into the room and made his way toward she and Henry's booth with an endearingly gentle smile on his scruffily bearded face. The way heat rose on her cheeks, her awareness going almost blurry and her mouth dry, was like nothing she had encountered before. Her reaction to the town's sheriff would border on alarming, it was so strong and immediate, if it weren't so pleasant as well.
Her heart threatened to beat its way right up her throat and out of her body as Graham reached she and Henry's table and he turned his beguiling smile on them even more completely. Luckily, he addressed Henry first with an affectionate chuckle, giving Belle a few more moments to compose herself, as he playfully reached out to fist bump and then manage some complex finger-flapping gesture with Henry that was clearly enthusiastic and well-practiced. "What're you up to here, Henry? Adding someone else to the Operation Cobra team?"
Henry chortled at him good naturedly, though he also rolled his eyes in an expression eerily reminiscent of Emma at his friend's perceived confusion. "Um, don't know if you've noticed, Sheriff, but Operation Cobra is pretty much complete. Curse was broken, we won, all that." He arched an eyebrow at Graham cheekily, as if daring the sheriff to contradict his statement.
"Fair enough. You have me there," the man conceded, his lilting accent making even his admitted error sound charming to Belle's listening ear as she watched man and boy interact. In fact, though she hated feeling like some silly damsel in one of her childish books, watching her heroic Huntsman playfully joke back and forth with the young man beside her, and seeing how blatantly Henry adored the man in return, made Graham Humbert even more attractive - if that were even possible.
Her thoughts were jolted back to the conversation before her however when Graham spoke to Henry once again. "Our team still exists though, doesn't it? Around here, it won't be too long before we have another mission. Miss French is a sharp one; I'll wager you've already got her up to speed. She'd be an excellent addition to our team."
His words were still directed at the boy who was now eagerly bobbing his head in agreement and beaming between the two of them in excitement, but his gaze had drifted decidedly over to her, twinkling delightedly and making her heart flutter as well. Once more when their eyes connected, it was almost as though they stuck - neither of them quite able to glance away and unsure if they even wanted to. It was as magical as any of the other fairy tales come to life running around their outrageous, unbelievable little town. Everything around faded out of focus slightly; each the only thing not a bit distant or hazy in the other's eyes.
About that time, Ruby arrived at their table with a flourish, grinning widely with a sort of devious mirth that normally made Graham squirm, sure his sister was about to embarrass him. This time though she only patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and brushed right by him to Henry. "Hey Bud! Guess what? Granny said you can come help us in the back for a bit - see how everything really gets made, even the secret ingredients of the grilled cheese. We were going to let you last week, but then you had to leave, remember? Mrs. Sprat even said you could use her favorite skillet if you come back before her shift ends - and she won't even let me touch that! Want to?"
Henry definitely did if his immediate farewell and eager request to finish their "meeting" later to Graham and Belle was any indication. They had barely offered their agreement before he was scooting out of the bench seat and taking Ruby's offered hand. The two of them scuttled away so quickly and with such gleeful conspiratorial giggles that Graham had to wonder if the whole thing was planned somehow. He also noticed Snow giving Ruby a stern look, but decided to let it slide. (Ruby, for her part, refused to feel badly. Graham was her brother, and he needed this chance to open up and heal with someone who could understand his pain. If she had to run a bit of interference for it to happen, she had no qualms about doing so.) And yet, as Belle smiled back up at him sweetly, he could see she was not part of whatever finagling behind the scenes might have been going on. Deciding to seize the moment, Graham asked if the seat across from her was taken, to which she responded only if it was taken by him, and he slid in to sit facing her, no longer even caring if they had been set up.
Shaking his head lightly at the precocious boy he came to care for long ago, even while still Regina's unwitting puppet, and at his sister's antics, he turned to face Belle French and found his insides warming delightfully for a completely different reason. She didn't speak, but her face was open and clearly welcoming, and he found that - unlike with most people - he didn't feel pressed to fill the silence. Having grown up in the wild with mainly animals for company, he had never minded quiet moments, but often others did not feel the same.
Eventually Belle did reach across the table though, her petite hand careful but resolute to take his before she whispered intently. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to thank you again...when I was calmer and a bit more myself...for what you did. You set me free of that awful cell here in this new land. And you made sure I wasn't forgotten… you kept me sane really, in the other."
Graham returned the gentle pressure unabashedly, turning his hand in hers so their palms would press together, and entwining their fingers. He was more comfortable with touch - and least touch of his own initiation - with action and small gestures, than words. No doubt it was another byproduct of being literally raised by wolves in the woods, but it was also one thing that made he and Emma get along so well and made them such good partners. She was much the same. He sensed Belle to be so as well; one of the most clever and crafty twister of words in existence had used them to hang onto her and abuse her trust much too long for it to be otherwise.
She practically beamed at his gesture, not shying away from the touch in the slightest, and Graham found words spilling off his tongue after all, in spite of himself. "Please don't thank me," he murmured thickly. "If anything, I should ask for your forgiveness. You must wonder why I didn't free you sooner. Why I didn't help you escape in our land, as I did Prince Charming. I've been asking myself the same ever since I remembered."
However, her kind, understanding eyes took him in with no judgement at all in their depths, only sweet sympathy. "I have not once thought that, do you understand? Don't take on more burdens than necessary. You couldn't have succeeded; there was no way. She had me locked in her highest tower, carefully guarded. My use as a pawn against Rumple," and at that her mouth twisted in somewhat bitter disgust, while Graham merely listened in concern, stroking his roughened thumb over her hand when it trembled slightly in his hold, "made her certain not to let me slip from her grasp. If you had tried anything more than you did, both of us would only have been hurt worse."
He shook his head though, one hand breaking free of where they had been clasping each other's across the table, despite whomever else might enter and see them, or the shyness they might have usually felt and allowed to hold them back, to tug at his already disheveled hair in frustrated distress. "You can't know that for certain. I could have tried!" he insisted, clearly tormented by the idea that he might have allowed her suffering to continue longer than necessary.
Belle reached her now freed hand back to take his once again, alarmed by the intensity of his guilt and upset over it, and needing to help him as he had once helped her. "Hey, hey…" she crooned soothingly, wrapping her hand back around his and pulling it close to her chest. "It's alright. You did all you could...took more risk trying to help me than anyone else has since my mother when I was a girl. I can't even pretend to know what you went through with her…" Her deep, guileless eyes sought his with nothing but genuine acceptance, aching to offer only comfort, "but I know you weren't in control. You did what you had to, in order to survive...and…" She swallowed hard there, looking down to their joined hands instead of maintaining his gaze, "...you helped me survive too."
A soft huff of air left him at that last admission, the tension falling from Graham's shoulders as he leaned forward to momentarily cradle her cheek in his palm before tilting her face back up to his and then silently wiping the lone tear that had escaped her from her cheek. The look he gave her then was every bit as tender as that fragile touch, before he murmured hoarsely in a voice raw with emotion, "Well, then thank goodness I managed at least that much."
Snuggled together in the secluded cabin in the woods, far from town and removed from the churning chaos of their clatch of heroes and villains, Emma and Killian had lingered, sharing with each other things they had kept and carried all alone for far too long, reluctant to return to everyone else and the riot of pressures and needs that continually interrupted. Though they had sought a momentary shelter in dire need, it had become a quiet haven neither wanted to leave.
As the day slipped away and Emma ran her fingers through the thicket of dark hair on his chest, a rumble of pleasure emanating from his throat at the stroking warmth of her digits and the delicious friction of her nails, Killian learned how she had come to lose and find Henry again, about all the foster homes and the almost-families who'd given her back, and how alone she had felt erecting skyhigh walls to convince herself it didn't matter. In turn, Killian had dried the few inevitable tears that had slipped unbidden from her proud jade eyes and bared his own scars. In a voice roughened by the emotion of the tale, he told her of two brothers whose mother had died when the younger could barely remember her - all that was left him an impression of kind blue eyes to match his own, a tinkling laugh, a singing, melodious voice as cool fingers brushed through his hair, and the ability to shed his human skin for a swifter, stronger form when the moon was full. As the story poured from him, one of the first times ever loosed, he found he couldn't stop. He told her how their father abandoned the brothers to the streets, how the elder had worked his fingers raw to keep them both from starving, and how the younger had idolized his Liam, following in his footsteps right into the Royal Navy up until the day that beloved older brother had taken his last breath, betrayed by the crown he had served so proudly and consigned to a watery grave. Before he knew it, Killian had even told Emma the long, sordid story of his love and loss of Milah, his ancient grudge with Rumplestiltskin, and the maiming of his hand. She held him close through it all; eventually sitting up with his head cradled in her lap as silent tears he wasn't sure he had ever allowed himself to cry trailed down his face.
Some time later, when both their tears had dried and their stories were told, each was infinitely relieved the other was still beside them, not running scared, and each was slowly gaining strength from the other's stalwart presence; suddenly aware that there was another who shared the burden and wasn't going to leave. More than that, Emma would have still been still freaked out by a second occurence of her magic, bursting from her as if at an impulse beyond her control, except that when she voiced her fears to Killian he laid them to rest so adeptly she couldn't even argue. It steadied her more than anything she could have told herself when he looked her full in the face and swore to her honestly that though he had not seen much good magic in his long life, he knew that hers was, and he believed in her.
When Killian shifted that night, Emma was right there to see it happen, still marveling at the sleek black fur, the large, powerful form, and the yet familiar blue eyes he retained. It seemed clear just then that she would know those eyes anywhere and in whatever form he took.
Giggling slightly at the imposing canine who lazed next to her, tongue lolling and somehow still bearing an expression much like Killian's, Emma reached out her hand to pet his soft fur, and he nuzzled her hand with his cold, wet nose affectionately, tail thumping against the covers happily. Scratching behind his ears in return, Emma lay down to rest and he curled up at her side. She struggled not to feel guilty at leaving it all behind - Henry, her parents, the town - but this time was needed too, even if they had essentially been in bed all day. She had let down walls for Killian that she hadn't been sure she was still capable of releasing, and he had clearly needed this purging and closure too, as it would seem that perhaps some of his wounds had never been grieved.
The next time she opened her eyes - in the wee hours of the morning, everything still glowing with a wash of blue moonlight in the pre-dawn darkness - Emma let her eyes slide over Killian's once more human, bare and sculpted, body, gleaming in a pale halo over his skin. She had to press her lips together to avoid exclamation at the sight before her. Looking at him that way, as still, silent, and beautiful as a work of art, she simply had to reach out and touch him. There was no way to take it back.
Soon enough she was running hungry hands over the planes of his broad shoulders, down his arms and over his stomach, which shivered and rippled in response. Her fingers trailed lower, marveling at the fact that he appeared hale and whole once more, the marks of the previous night's damage having knitted and healed to join older scars like a quilted canvas of honor. Far from appearing unsightly, it sent a further quiver of desire through Emma's core, making her clench and want at the clear display of masculine strength, dominance, and willingness to fight - even to the death if need be - for those he loved, the things that mattered.
Finally peeling open the glittering cyan pools of his eyes to peer at her stealthily, Killian grinned when he caught her wandering hands in his own, trapping them by her head as he rolled over to cover her body with his, licking his lips with a wanton hunger he intoned, "What's the matter, Love? Didn't get enough of me yet?"
Emma's pulse pounded in her ears at the abrupt reversal, breath heaving from her lungs in a way that left her without enough air to reply. She shook her head, eyes wide and gazing into his fathomless stare; unable to deny just how desperate she was for more.
"Well then," he murmured, peppering quick little bites along her collarbone toward her ear, where he nipped the lobe and drew yet another shameless gasp from her, "far be it from me to leave you unsatisfied," he finished with a ravenous growl, and thrusting forward he made good on his promise.