Author's Notes: Hey y'all will have to forgive me for the late update. Again. I'm prepping for a trip to Vegas and packing is a bitch.
If there are mistakes in this chapter, pardon me. No time to edit!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Chapter 17
The Locker was not at all the Hell that sailors were taught to fear. The sky was an endless blue until it reached the horizon where the edges appeared to melt into a green that mirrored the sea. The sea itself was calm with a gentle breeze. It was the type of weather that sailors coveted. Because yes, while the lust for treasure and adventure governed a large part of a pirate's heart, his true love would always be the sea, the tempting mistress that she was, and the beauty of a calm sail under a bright sky was beyond price.
If this was the afterlife that awaited him, Killian wasn't worried in the slightest.
He stood at the helm, one hand on his belt, the other on the wheel. Jack was next to him, although the older Captain tapped restlessly at his compass, flicking it and then once banging it against the rail. "Come on, you blasted thing," he hissed. "Work."
Killian raised an eyebrow. "Just what to you wish to find?"
"My ship. Jones took it."
"Why?"
Jack sighed in irritation. "My father was a pirate. I didn't want to be him. Joined the Navy. Navy wanted me to trade slaves. I set them free. They burned my ship with me on it. Didn't want to die. Made a deal with Jones. Thirteen years or a hundred souls. I chose the latter." His words were quick, his tone clipped, almost bored. He smiled sarcastically. "Thirteen years were up. I welshed. Jones took the Pearl. Savvy?"
"You thought you could leverage the heart for her."
"Aye." Jack looked down at his compass. "And now I'm here, and I can't find my ship."
The dial continued to spin restlessly, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Killian cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps you want something else more?"
Jack looked away, troubled. "Perhaps."
"Allow me to try, then," Killian said, offering a hand. "I may yet have better luck."
Seeing no real alternative, Jack handed over the compass, and felt a certain amount of satisfaction and relief when the dial continued to swing. Killian frowned before his gaze swept the deck. Emma sat on the rail next to Vincent, the two looking thick as thieves. He could see her smile even from the quarterdeck.
"Swan!" he called. "Come up here, would you, lass?"
Emma slid off the rail, landing lithely on her feet even as the ship lurched, a little detail that only made Killian's heart clench. He remembered the first weeks of their first voyage, remembered smirking to himself when he heard her curse after losing her footing when the ship rolled. Seeing her now, so comfortable, only made the fact that she'd chosen to stay that much sweeter.
Emma glanced between Killian and Jack. "What's up?"
Killian handed her the compass. "See what you make of it," he said.
Frowning, she took the compass in her hands. The dial seemed to stutter, and Jack tensed in anticipation, before his shoulders fell a second later when the dial once more began to aimlessly twirl. "Damn," he cursed.
"Sorry." Emma handed the device back to Jack. "Why isn't it working?"
Killian looked out at the waves. "Perhaps it's the Locker. The sea here is endless, therefore our direction needn't matter."
"What are we looking for?" she asked. "Jones?"
"I have a feeling that he'll find us. No, Jack was hoping to find the Pearl."
Emma's brows rose as she stared at the endless sea. "Good luck, then."
"Your optimism is overwhelming, Miss Swan."
She flushed. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it, lass. I'll be reunited with her again."
They sailed until night fell, and what a sight was the sunset. The sky bled slowly from pink to orange to a deep, blood red that left purple reflections on the water. Emma and Killian met at the helm by unspoken, subconscious agreement. It was neutral ground.
Killian was the one to make the first move. He took her hand in his, and Emma waited for him to kiss it as he usually did, only to frown as he merely held it between them, studying it, his thumb sweeping occasionally across her knuckles. They stood that way in silence, her hand in his, until Emma opened her palm to twine their fingers. Killian stared at their hands harder.
"I've always admired your hands, Swan," he said eventually. "I don't know about your land, but here, a man knows a lot about a woman by her hands." Unlacing their hands but not letting go completely, he ran his thumb along the pad of her palm. "I knew from the moment I took your hand that you were a strong woman," he brushed against her calluses, "that you were no stranger to the world and its hardships. They were paler then," he added. "Have you noticed?" Turning her hand over, he swept his thumb over the dusting of freckles that occasionally dotted her now lightly tanned skin. "They've changed."
Emma reflexively wanted to close her fingers and take her hand back. Her muscles tensed. "Is that a bad thing?"
Killian did kiss her hand then. "No, love," he said quietly. "Not at all. It's only that when I think of it, when I think of what your hands have done since meeting me, that I wonder . . ."
"Wonder, what?"
He swallowed. "If it's worth it." Emma wanted to argue. Her eyes flared and her hand tightened in his hold, but he silently squeezed her hand to halt her words. "These hands have now killed because of me," he said. "They've acted without your consent, they've made you question yourself, and it's my fault."
"You asked me the other day why I desired to shield you from the darker aspects of myself, and I was truthful. I do not wish for you to change because of me, to become something that you fear or distrust because of my influence. I never want you to look at your hands and feel anything except pride. Darling, you're the brightest light in my life." He finally tore his gaze from hers, eyes falling once more to their hands, and Emma was grateful. She needed a moment to process, but Killian didn't give her one. His voice was low and shy as he admitted, "But I fear that one day, my darkness will snuff out some of that light. I fear that you'll hate me for it."
Emma stared at him with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "You think I'll run," she said. "You think that if you show me your darkness that I'll leave."
"Everyone does, Swan," he said brokenly, and Emma suddenly had a vision of a scared little boy with the brightest blue eyes waking up alone to a cold bunk on a mean ship. It wasn't so different from a scared little girl with sea green eyes waking up alone in squeaky bed in a lonely home.
You and I, we understand each other.
She knew what she needed to say, and the weight of it, of what it meant—for her, for him, for them—sat heavily on her tongue. But she needed to say it. No allusions, no hints. She couldn't rely on him to hear what she couldn't say. Not this time. This time, she needed to say it.
Emma still hesitated.
Because what she needed to say sounded oddly like Tallahassee in her mind, and she had sworn that she'd never say anything like that again, never want for something like that again, never trust anyone for something like that again. Everything was just happening so fast. If she stopped to think of it for too long, she would undoubtedly run because stuff like this just didn't happen.
People didn't fall through time and land in a magical realm. They didn't meet a handsome, dangerous stranger on some quest to return home, and they certainly didn't sail away into the sunset with that stranger because he asked, because he was unlike anyone she had ever met, because he made her feel things she'd sworn never to feel again. It. Just. Didn't. Happen.
But it did. It had.
And of all people, it had happened to her.
"I . . ." she swallowed, "Killian . . ."
Part of her wanted him to interrupt, to give her an out, but when he only stared at her and patiently waited for her to sort herself out, even though she knew he was terrified of what she might say, she was even more grateful that he kept quiet. "You don't have to worry about me," she said finally. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to . . . I want you. And you're a pirate. I know what that means, and I don't care."
Killian's eyes shone tentatively with hope, and Emma found the courage to lace their fingers together once again while her other hand gently ran through his hair. It was softer than hers, and it wasn't at all fair, but she loved it. "Don't get me wrong, I like this you," she said with a blush. "The sweet one who sings to me and kisses my hand and says all these wonderful things that no one's ever said to me before." She smiled when she spotted the slight pink color in his cheeks. Good. "But," her nails scraped against his scalp, "I like Captain Jones, too."
"I want you, Killian," she said honestly. "Gentleman and pirate."
He smirked half-heartedly, too overwhelmed to be as audacious as usual. "I'm always a gentlemen," he said.
Emma rolled her eyes, using their joined hands to pull him forward. "You're an idiot," she murmured as she tilted her head up, her forehead resting briefly against his.
Killian closed his eyes. "Aye," he agreed before abruptly pulling her close and capturing Emma's lips in a kiss that literally made her toes curl.
Pirate.
They sailed aimlessly for three days before they saw land, and it was all there was to see. It was as if the ocean had suddenly dried up, leaving the wreckage of dozens of vessels to wither away on the arid sand. Jack didn't have to stare to know that the Pearl was not one of them. He knew at a glance, yet the Pearl's absence did nothing to assuage him. If anything at all, it made him that much more anxious.
Because if she wasn't here, then where the devil was she?
Killian scoured the beach with a different idea in mind. All those ships just laid to waste . . . truly it was tragic, and the sailor in him lamented the loss . . . but he'd be a terrible pirate if he passed up this opportunity. So he gave the order to drop anchor and deploy the longboats. They were going to shore.
He snuck a glance at Emma as he rowed them to shore. She looked radiant in the midmorning sun. Her hair shone like finely spun gold and her eyes were alight with curiosity as she studied the beached ships that dotted the coastline. She wore one of his shirts again, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a brown leather vest that hugged her waist like he wished his hands would.
With her hair tied back and her kohl-lined eyes, she looked more like a pirate than ever.
It was terribly attractive.
He'd nearly dragged her back into his quarters when she'd appeared on deck with her eyes lined in black to combat the bright sun. It was a practical solution, yes, but gods, did it have to make her look so enticing? There was only so much even a gentleman could take.
As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts (or perhaps merely noticed his stare) she smirked at him like the nymph he sometimes suspected she was, and said, "So, Captain"—how he loved it when she called him by his title—"what's the plan?"
"I have many plans, love," he said. Currently the majority of them involved the two of them, a bottle of rum, and considerably fewer clothes. "You'll have to be more specific."
She rolled her eyes. "What are we doing here?" she asked. "Are we honestly just going to wait around for your undead grandfather to show up?"
"If you have a suggestion, I'm all ears, Swan," he retorted lightly. "Since the only way I know to contact him is by quite literally killing the messenger, who do you nominate? Personally, I'd go with Bellamy."
Emma blinked, knowing in her gut that despite his playful tone, there was an undercurrent of deadly sincerity, and while she was glad that he wasn't holding himself back for her sake any longer, she felt the slightest bit of hesitation. "I think we can afford to wait a few days," she said dryly, even as she silently questioned just what she'd gotten herself into when it came to Killian Jones.
She hadn't lied last night. She cared for both man and pirate. Truthfully, in her mind, they were one and the same. Different layers of the same man. Of course, that didn't excuse his actions. That didn't place him above judgement. And she wondered just what she would do when the day inevitably came when he would test her ability to stay true to her word . . . when he killed out of anger or vengeance or cheated some hapless person out of spite. . . all things that she knew he had done and would do again . . .
Emma wasn't so much worried about what it would say about her character whatever she decided. What worried her, terrified her, really, was why it didn't matter. And in her heart she already knew. It was because she was Emma Swan, and he was Killian Jones, and she, he, they were . . . something, something that she couldn't even define.
Darling, you're the brightest light in my life.
I want you, Killian.
They reached the shore in short order, and Killian hopped out, boots splashing in the surf, as he tugged the boat onto the beach. He offered her a hand as she stepped onto the sand, and Emma felt that faint, annoying schoolgirl flicker in her stomach when he didn't let go. She bit her cheek in order to squash her smile.
"So, what do you say, love?" he asked as they walked inland. "Left," he pointed to a weathered warship that had been broken in half, "or right?"
The ship immediately to the right waved a shredded Jolly Roger, and she started toward it. "Right," she said.
"Excellent choice, Swan."
Emma glanced behind them as they walked. The crew seemed to splinter in all directions, no more than three men going to one ship. She noticed Jack was the last to pick a direction, and instead of heading toward the ships, he began to walk straight inland. She watched him with a frown. "I don't know what he wants," she said. "Jack, I mean."
Killian followed her gaze with a faint smile. "I have a few ideas," he said.
"Care to share?"
"What do your movies tell you about Elizabeth Swann?"
"Governor's daughter. She was supposed to marry Norrington, but Barbosa kidnapped her because she had this medallion from this cursed treasure that made him a skeleton guy in the moonlight—"
"Curse?" Killian interrupted. "You mean to say that he couldn't die?"
Emma blinked. "Yeah."
"He must still be under that curse then."
"How do you know?"
"Because I killed him, and he didn't die."
"Weird how that actually makes sense."
Killian smiled slightly. "What more of Miss Swann, Swan?"
"That was horrible," she muttered with an eye roll, but shrugged, and added, "She was rescued by Will and Jack. They broke the curse, Jack killed Barbosa, and then Elizabeth called off her engagement to Norrington to be with Will. That's it."
"And now I shall tell you what I know," Killian said as they approached the ship. He gestured for her to begin climbing the rungs on the side of the ship. "After you, love."
Emma raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Right," she said, though she nonetheless began to climb. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, pirate."
Killian smiled as he followed after her, his eyes lingering over her shapely arse, as he said, "I've no idea what you mean, darling."
"You were going to tell me about Elizabeth."
"Of course," he agreed, his eyes momentarily straying to check their surroundings. "You see, Elizabeth Swann was the Governor's daughter. Aye, that much is true. But what your movie seems to have forgotten, is that she did not go on some grand adventure before breaking off her marriage to the Commodore. Instead, she left him at the altar, never to be seen again."
Emma frowned. "Really?"
"Aye, but there are rumors."
"You pirates sure do like to gossip."
"We pirates thrive on gossip and stories, Swan," he said.
"And how do you know what's the truth?"
"That's the fun of it, love."
"So those rumors about Elizabeth, what did they say?"
"Oh, well, some were the usual fare. Cold feet. Loved another. But I always heard one explanation that sounded clearer to my ears."
"And what explanation was that?"
"That she had met a pirate to be executed, only to find something redeemable in him and in turn helped him escape. They fell in love, and she, not wanting to be confined to a life of an aristocrat, ran away with him."
"That's . . . romantic."
"Aye. The Commodore never believed the rumors, insisted that she had been kidnapped, and so set out to find her."
Emma climbed over the rail with a huff and brushed the grime from her hands. "And what do you think?"
"I think," Killian said as he climbed over the rail and take her hand, pulling her close, "I think that she became a pirate because she wanted to be free."
"You think the pirate she ran away with was Jack," she said.
"It would fit with what I know of him."
"I can't believe Norrington is still looking for her. Surely he knows?"
"Love can make a man believe in anything, Swan. Now," he abruptly stepped away from her, though in the next second he began to pull her along with him as he went straight for the captain's quarters, "let's see just what treasures may await us."
Emma followed behind him with a small, amused smile as he broke through the door with a sharp kick. He turned to her, a boyish grin on his face, as if he wanted her to comment on his prowess, but she only raised what she hoped was an unimpressed eyebrow before turning away from him to examine the cabin. She missed Killian's pout.
Emma began opening drawers, tossing aside clothes and focusing on trinkets. She had no intention of taking anything, yet she had always been an innately curious person, and so it was with great interest that she searched each nook and cranny of the cabin, finding interesting maps that she set aside for Killian and other little trinkets and baubles that were appropriately shiny or sparkly. She ran her fingers over the few book titles she found, noting with some amusement that this unknown captain and Killian shared the same taste. She picked up some star charts, thinking that he might like them, only to turn to him and immediately laugh.
"What?" Killian said. "I think I look even more charming and devilishly handsome than usual."
Emma snorted and pressed her lips together in order not to laugh. Killian had raided the captain's wardrobe. Obviously, there had been more than one woman to share the quarters, as Killian had strings of pearls around his neck, a feather hat on his head, and a delicate fan in his hand that he seemed to be absently waving.
"Oh, yeah," Emma agreed as she crossed the room to fiddle with the pearls around his neck. "Very sexy." She reached up to flick the peacock feather in his hat.
"I do hope you're not making fun of me, Swan," he threatened lightly, tossing the fan on the desk behind her and then placing a hand on her hip to pull her close. "Because if you are, I'll be forced to punish you. A Captain can't afford to deal with such insolence among his crew."
"I didn't know I was part of the crew," Emma said as she boldly looped her arms around his neck. Her genuine smile at the ridiculous hat on his head kept her from showing just how unsure of herself she still felt. This was still so new. "All you did was ask me to sail away with you."
Killian grinned at the reminder as he arched an arrogant eyebrow. "Is that so, love?" His hands locked against the small of her back, pressing her against him. "Didn't you know that every person aboard my ship has their place?" His voice dipped lower as his eyes, while teasing, darkened.
Emma waited for him to kiss her, but he didn't move. He merely stayed a breath's away from her lips, arrogantly waiting for her to cave. She promptly slid her fingers into his hair, letting her nails scrape lightly against his scalp. His eyes fluttered. "I don't remember you ever assigning me a place . . . Captain."
Killian let his eyes close, arms tightening around her. Maddening woman! He'd started this game, and he intended to win, godsdammit. "Hmm," he hummed, and Emma felt the sound vibrate against his chest that was so firmly pressed to hers. "Well, darling, let us fix this error," he murmured, thoughtfully leaning in to let his lips skim her throat. "How about . . . mistress?" Emma yanked on his hair, but he only chuckled. "That only leaves wench, Swan."
Emma tried to pull away with a huff, and though he let her take a step back, he refused to let go of her completely. "Try again, buddy," she said with a sniff. "We may have met in a tavern, but I'm not your wench."
Killian pretended to think. "There's really only one other option then, love," he said, tugging her closer once again, and smiling when her hands settled on his shoulders. He had a feeling it was less an act of affection, and more a warning that she might strangle him. He rested his forehead against hers anyway. "You must be my first mate," he said.
Emma raised her eyebrows. "What about Smee?"
"He'll get over it."
She laughed when he kissed her.
They went from ship to ship, gathering treasure, and Emma felt a strange child-like glee that she'd been robbed of as a child. It was so terribly fun to explore each ship and find strange, new things. She cared little for silver and gold, though she smirked when Killian shove handfuls of coins into his pockets. Emma focused on smaller things, earthier things that would last, like maps and books and a dusty bottle of wine.
It surprised her that it didn't feel like stealing. It was discovery. It was an expedition. It wasn't about screwing over the system that had screwed her. It wasn't about rebellion. It was about adventure.
And god, was it just fun.
"I can't believe you're taking that," she laughed as Killian tossed the gold dress over his shoulder, petticoats and all. "Unless you've got a secret I should know about."
"I'll have you know, Swan, that I look stunning in gold."
"Killian."
"You never know, love. One day, you might need a dress."
"Because a dress is obviously practical."
"Quite."
"For piracy."
"Sometimes."
"You're such an idiot. You just want to see me in it."
Killian spun to look at her, eyes wide, brows raised innocently. "Is that an offer?"
She hummed as she passed him. "Maybe," she offered slyly before quickly turning away before he could see the flush to her cheeks.
"Oi, get back here, you minx."
An arm snaked around her waist. The many necklaces around his neck swung heavily, clicking together as he spun around in front of her, and the dress on his shoulder twirling out like a cape. He still had the damn feather hat on his head. "What are you gonna do, pirate?" she dared.
"I'm gonna do what any self-respecting pirate does, Swan," he said. "I'm going to take what's mine."
Emma's heart had just enough time to flutter in anticipation and for her hands to grab Killian's collar when Jack interrupted. "So sorry to interrupt," he said as he swaggered forward, hand raised in apology. "I just thought I'd make a wee little suggestion."
Killian cocked an eyebrow. "And what suggestion would that be?" he asked wryly, frustration barely contained.
Jack grinned knowingly before pointing past all the shipwrecks. "I think we should journey further inland."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"There's no way to tell if the Pearl is there."
"There's no way to tell if she isn't unless we mosey over ourselves and have a look."
Emma found it hard to take either of them seriously, considering that Jack, much like Killian, wore his spoils, which included a golden crown that sat crookedly atop his head. The crown combined with Killian's feathered hat made it difficult to keep a straight face as she watched the two captains glare at each other.
Yet as she looked at Jack, she thought about what Killian had told her earlier. Elizabeth. And it struck her then that Jack always talked about finding her, about reuniting with her, and while she knew it could easily refer to the Pearl, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe . . . maybe he wasn't here for just his ship.
Snippets of his conversation with Norrington ran through her mind.
"Where's Elizabeth?"
"Not here . . ."
"Okay," she said, causing both Killian and Jack to pause midsentence and stare at her in surprise. She focused on Jack. "We'll look. Tomorrow."
"We will?" Killian questioned. "Just what makes you say that, Swan?"
"I'm first mate," she said simply. "I get some say. I say we look for the Pearl. No matter how he went about it, Jack helped us get the heart, and we owe him."
Jack nodded. "She has a point, mate," he said, pointing at Emma.
Killian stared at her for a long moment, questioning eyebrow arched just shy of condescending, as he said, "So it would seem." Emma didn't blink under his gaze. She only stared steadily back, confident and trusting and maybe just a bit smug. He hated that he found it more attractive than annoying. Terribly inconvenient, that. "We'll set out tomorrow," he said, finally glancing at Jack. "But we'll only search for a day. The Locker is not some place where I'm keen to linger."
"Of course not," Jack agreed. "Very wise of you."
Emma scanned the beach. "Looks like everyone else is ready to head back to the ship," she said, spotting Vincent lugging what she thought was an entire trunk behind him, while Bee chased after someone with a goblet raised like a weapon. "And maybe we should make sure no one kills each other."
Both Killian and Jack turned just in time to see Bee tackle a man to a ground and wrestle some jewel from his grasp. Emma could see it wink in the fading sunlight. "I think the lass is onto something," Jack said.
Killian's jaw flexed. "If I wanted your commentary, Sparrow, I would ask for it."
"Apologies. It just looks a bit . . . chaotic."
"Anything else you'd like to add?"
". . . nice hat."
Emma snorted, breaking the tension completely, and causing both men to once again look at her. Killian eyed her like she'd betrayed him while Jack looked like he'd gained an ally. She rolled her eyes at the both of them. "I'm going to the boats. If neither of you are there in ten minutes, I'm rowing back by myself."
Ten minutes later, everyone was rowing back to the Jolly, and Killian's hat was nowhere to be seen.
Thanks folks.
See you Friday
-AC
