Author's Notes: Hello, hello, helloooo! Sorry this is coming in a wee bit late. Life happened. Adulting happened. It was awful.
On a better note *summons Old Spice guy voice* I rode a horse. Yep, my Dad finally got his horses, so I drove my happy ass down to the farm and went for a ride. The horse's (one of them anyway) is named Vegas and he's a precious love muffin and I adore him. So yay.
But! We have some fun action going on here, so let's get to it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Disney or its characters. Or a horse. But my Dad does. *squee*
Chapter 16
As soon as Killian stepped onto the Jolly Roger, he began shouting orders. "Haul anchor! Get ready to make way! Quickly, lads!" He was in constant motion as he stalked across the deck, Emma beside him as Jack went to the helm. "Take the chest," he told Emma, lowering his voice though it did very little to escape the crew's notice. Everyone was sneaking a peak at the chest under Vincent's arm. "Place it in the cabin. Somewhere safe."
Emma nodded, smiling at Vincent as he handed it over, "Thank you."
He huffed. "You owe me a drink. No, you owe me three."
She laughed. "Three, it is."
Holding the chest in both hands, Emma went down to the Captain's quarters—her quarters, his quarters, their quarters, she didn't know if she wanted a label yet—pondering where she might hide the chest. She understood why Killian had asked this of her. He knew every nook and cranny of his quarters, yet everyone saw things differently, and what she might consider a good hiding place might escape Killian's notice entirely. Of course, this was exactly why Killian had asked her to hide the heart.
Even he didn't want to know where the heart was, and though the weight of the trust he had placed in her sat heavily on her shoulders, there was a delighted warmth that settled in her chest. Scanning the room, she automatically ruled out the wardrobe, the cupboard, and the bookshelves. Under the bed just seemed cliché, and there was no stopping the chest from sliding across the floor with each roll of the ship. Even the safe was pointless. Anyone could pick a lock.
So she settled on his desk.
Emma sat in his chair and examined the drawers on either side. The bottom-most drawers were the deepest, and knowing Killian as she did, she knew one if not both had false bottoms. Curiously, she opened the one to her right. It was filled with papers, neatly rolled and tied together, and she rolled her eyes at his tidiness. It was strangely cute.
Carefully, she took out the papers and set them on top of the desk. Tapping the bottom of the drawer, she heard the answering echo with a hint of smugness. She felt around the drawer, fingertips searching for a latch or a pressure spring, finally finding the latter in the back. The drawer opened, revealing a little space just the perfect size for the chest.
She gently moved aside the few baubles that were already present—a gorgeous opal pendant, a flask of rum, and a carved wooden horse the size of a chess piece—before she placed the chest into the drawer. It was a snug fit, which she liked. It would be harder to hear the hollowed echo of the drawer if anyone started tapping around.
She'd just finished rearranging the drawer, exactly as she'd found it, when she heard it.
Thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . .
Immediately she had the urge to undo all her work and open the chest. It was almost a compulsion, and she wondered if it was magic, if the chest wanted to be opened. Her fingers itched to touch it. She closed her hand into a fist and shook herself.
Get out. Leave it alone.
If she seemed to gulp fresh air when she appeared on deck, no one questioned it. The air was crisp against her face, the sails straining as the wind propelled them over the waves. She quickly climbed the stairs to the helm, her eyes finding the Dauntless chasing after them. Jack had out his compass while Killian stood at the wheel, still shouting orders.
She came to stand between the two men as she looked back once again at the Dauntless. "Can we outrun them?" she asked.
"Oh, just you watch me, love," Killian said with a sharp grin.
Jack extended his spyglass. "Looks like Barbosa made it back to the ship," he said as he watched the crew of the Dauntless scurry around on deck. "Bugger."
"And Norrington?" Emma asked.
"Also, unfortunately, present."
"You know, it's funny. No one seems to like you, Jack."
"Alas, tis the price I pay for being clever."
Emma hummed. "Right."
They sailed on, nearly flying atop the waves until the Dauntless was a mere speck in the distance. Only then did Killian let the men rest. It was nearing dark, everyone was exhausted, yet he did not dismiss them below. Instead, he looked at Emma, his eyes tired but serious, as he said, "Mr. Smee! Take the wheel for a moment."
Smee scurried up to the helm with a squeaking, "Yes, sir, Captain" even as he cast an anxious eye at Jack, who only wiggled his fingers in a childish wave.
Emma thought she was the only one who saw just how brightly the Captain's dark eyes danced when Smee looked completely befuddled.
"Swan," her attention was drawn back to Killian, "perhaps we could take our conversation below?"
There was still that serious glint in his eye, yet there was something anxious in his voice that made her steps heavy and reluctant as she followed him to his quarters. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, Killian on one side of his desk while she stood on the other. He didn't immediately speak, which only made the sinking feeling in her stomach worse.
The only sound in the room was the steady, quiet beat of Davy Jones's heart.
Thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . .
God, that sound was going to drive her mad.
"Killian?" Her voice hovered hesitantly in the air. "What is it?"
Their brief lightness they'd shared on the island had only left more tension between them, a tension that Emma suddenly felt acutely since it was entirely her doing. She was the one that had pushed, and he had pulled away. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. Tense shoulders. Flexing fist. That steady tick in his jaw. All signs pointed to anger.
She knew it was nerves.
Finally he looked up and said, "Even under the best of conditions, portal-travel is a risk. I can't chance dropping anchor for the night with the Dauntless on our tail, yet I also can't chance traveling through the portal in darkness." He glanced out the window at the fading sun. "If we are to venture into the Locker, it has to be now."
Emma nodded slowly. "Okay, I still don't see the problem. Let's just go."
"It's not that simple, love." Killian sighed before fixing her with a steady look. His next words came out bluntly. "The Locker is another realm. In order to get there, we need a magic bean."
It took a few seconds before it clicked, and then Emma's eyes widened slightly and her mouth fell open. "Oh," she said. "You need my bean, the one the Apprentice gave me."
"I'm sorry, love. I'm so, so sorry. I was too distracted by Jones's threat that I failed to think ahead, and now I'm . . . I'm forcing you to make a decision that should have been yours entirely."
Emma stared at him. "That's my only way back," she said, and though nothing in her voice hinted that she was upset, Killian flinched. "To my world."
He hung his head. "Aye."
"I don't—"
"If you wish to use it to return to your world, I'll not stop you," he said honestly. "I'll not pretend that letting you go is what I want, but I will assist you, just as I promised you in that crowded tavern in Queen's Port. I am a man of my word, Swan."
"You'd let me go?"
"Aye."
"Just like that?"
"If it be your wish."
Emma felt so much in that moment that she felt nothing at all. She was frustrated. Because he just had to do this, didn't he? He just had to be noble, like some damn white knight, putting her first. Always her. Her wants, her desires, her wishes. His own desires were secondary to a point that they were seemingly nonexistent, and that just wasn't right or at all realistic. He was a goddamn pirate, for Christ's sake.
And oh, she was angry, too. Angry that this decision was hers to make. Angry at Killian for forcing her hand, at Davy Jones for getting them into this mess, angry at herself for not immediately knowing her answer. Because she should know. And perhaps, perhaps she did, in her heart.
But did that make it easier? Of course not. Because with that knowledge came more feelings, feelings that she had never felt comfortable with and known all too little in her life. Feelings of warmth and safety and longing. That soft sort of tenderness that simply ached. It felt like a knot in her chest that was already swollen with emotion because Killian Jones was giving her a choice. It was hers. It would always be hers. And that meant everything to her. So little in her life had been her choice.
All of these feelings mixed and swelled within her until she felt completely numb to any of it. So she simply stared at Killian for the longest time as her brain mechanically flip-flopped between yes and no, stay or go. And the longer that she stared at him, that he stared back at her with those big blue eyes of his that were just as troubled and torn as she imagined her own . . . Emma's numbness faded into a strange, blazing need.
She needed to know one thing.
"What do you want?" she asked.
He blinked. "Swan, it's your—"
"What do you want?" she repeated, taking a step toward him. When he abruptly sealed his lips, as if to hold in his answer, something in her snapped. There was a war in his eyes as he watched her, something dark lurking beneath, and Emma wanted to let it out. She needed to know. "You're a goddamn pirate, Killian Jones," she snapped, advancing on him. "What do you want?"
In answer, his hands wrapped around her upper arms in a bruising grip, and he tugged her forward until she was pressed against him harder than she'd ever been. She only had time to marvel at the feeling for one small second before his lips claimed hers. He set a punishing pace that was all heat, wonderful, possessive, consuming heat. His hands released her arms. One fisted in her hair while the other dared to squeeze her ass to bring her even closer.
Everything about the kiss said mine.
"You." His voice was rough and low, his forehead pressing harshly against hers. "Fucking hell, that's all I want. I just want you, Emma. Damn the consequences. How many times are you going to make me bloody say it?"
And she smiled faintly, her thumb caressing the scar on his cheek. "There's the pirate I met in that tavern," she said before she pulled away from him, turned her back, and crossed the room to his chest at the foot of the bed.
She lifted the lid. Her red leather jacket sat right on top, and she unfolded it in her lap, her fingers rubbing at the soft, familiar material. She unzipped the left pocket and found the magic bean right where she'd left it. It sparkled even in the faint light, and her fingers felt warm where she touched it.
Holding it in her fist, she walked back to Killian and then held out her hand, palm up. "We better hurry," she said, her voice still slightly breathless from their kiss. Or maybe it was because she knew exactly what this meant. "We've got someplace to be."
Killian didn't even look at the bean. He stared into her eyes, searching. Gone was the possessive pirate. That darkness was sequestered once again, but Emma didn't mind. Not right in that moment. She needed a moment with just plain Killian, too.
He swallowed. "We, love?"
"Yeah." She tried smiling and succeeded sheepishly with a shrug. "I mean, we do make a damn good team."
"You're staying."
She nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. "I am."
"With me."
"With you."
This time when he kissed her it was soft, almost apologetic for the brutal way he'd pillaged her lips earlier, but Emma took the kiss just as greedily, loving the soft way he cradled her head just as much as when he'd been pulling her hair. "You're more than I deserve," he said softly.
She smiled faintly to hide how his words made her insides squirm. "That's debatable," she said before stepping back and offering the bean once again. "C'mon. Let's do this."
The sun was just beginning to set when they emerged on deck. Killian immediately began to give orders. "Alright, lads! Prepare to go through a portal! Keep her trim!"
Emma glanced at him. "So, we're just going in guns blazing?"
"If I'm correctly guessing your meaning, yes."
"Go big or go home," she muttered as a brief flicker of nerves flared to life in her stomach. Her grip on the bean tightened. "What do I do?"
Killian nearly asked, just once more, if this was truly what she wanted, but he swallowed the words. Instead he nodded slightly toward the bow. "Think of where you wish to go, and then throw it. The magic will do the rest."
Emma paused. "That's it?"
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. Magic words? That's how the movies go."
"Swan, I'm beginning to think that your movies leave much to be desired when it comes to reality."
"Reality, right," she muttered as she rolled the bean between her fingers. "Because this is reality. Portals and hearts in boxes."
Killian said nothing, and so Emma silently told herself to get a grip before she strode to the bow. The bean felt heavy in her hand as she held it in her fist, terrified that she might squeeze too tightly and crush it. Could it be crushed?
Alright, this was happening. She was doing this. Dear god, she was really doing this.
Before she could convince herself that she was making a mistake, Emma Swan—former resident and nonbeliever of the Land Without Magic—made her choice.
She threw the bean.
As soon as the bean touched the water, a whirlpool swirled to life, seeming to grow in size as the Jolly Roger approached. Emma stared in shock, that stubborn part of her still unable to comprehend that this—magic, pirates, the Enchanted Forest, Davy Jones—was real. She stared until the ship began to lurch, reminding her of the first big hill of a rollercoaster. It was all click, click, click until boom, down you go.
Which, if Emma were forced to describe the experience, would be her definition of what it was like to travel through a portal.
She clung to the rigging with both hands, hugging the thick lines to her chest as she felt her stomach drop as the entire fucking ship dropped. There was that beautiful moment when they tipped, like the top of a water slide where you still felt like you had some traction, but then the bottom fell out and it was just down, down, down.
Wind beat her face. She even felt her feet lift off the deck. Some of the men were yelling curses. A few, though, one of which she was willing to bet was old Ace, let out a yodel of delight. For her part, she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over.
Their landing was rough and for a moment Emma had to wonder how they all weren't just pieces of driftwood. She looked up in time to see the portal close in a burnt orange sky, spinning away like a top. God, they'd really done it.
"Everyone alright?"
She didn't even notice until then that Killian had stayed with her on deck, with his crew, rather than steer them into the portal. She looked up at the helm where Jack stood behind the wheel, an arm resting between the spokes lazily as Smee hyperventilated into his hat as he leaned against the rail. Jack took off his hat and gave a small, sweeping bow when he caught her eye.
She had to smirk.
Captain Jack Sparrow, indeed.
"Swan?" Killian touched her arm. "In one piece?"
She looked down at herself. "Looks like it."
"Well, welcome to Davy Jones's Locker."
Got to love Jack.
And Killian.
And Emma.
Let's just love them all, shall we?
Alrighty, let's see what trouble our heroes can find, hmm? Next time in Run, Baby Run . . . "Since the only way I know to contact him [Davy Jones] is by quite literally killing the messenger, who do you nominate?" - Killian
See you Friday!
-AC
