A/N. I plotted out this fic BEFORE all the big reveals about why Emma gave in to the darkness and the whole Dark Hook reveal so just assume that from here on out it's gonna be cannon-divergent (That being said, I may or may not throw some cannon elements into this story, but we'll see.). Just a head's up.
P.S. Thanks again for all the kind words! Your reviews and comments, however short or inconsequential you may think they are, are probably the greatest motivators for me to keep writing! Thanks again!
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Standing in the captain's cabin of the Flying Dutchman was doing nothing but make Killian ill. It was almost like being sea sick, the rolling of his stomach just as nauseating, but Killian was certain that he hadn't felt such a thing in centuries. No, the source of his sickness was sitting in a chair and staring him up and down in gleeful and disbelieving awe.
Davy Jones still looked every inch the weathered seaman. His large frame filled the room like a silent specter even while seated and his wind-beaten face was more wrinkled and creased than Killian remembered. The dark curls on his head, the same as Liam's, had turned wiry and thin from years at sea, and were peppered with wisps of gray. He still stank of drink and there was a damning redness to his eyes, but his movements didn't seem drunk nor was his speech obviously slurred. There was a forced functionality to Davy's movements that Killian recognized all too well from nights he had crawled into a bottle himself.
Perhaps this was not actually the Flying Dutchman then, but a variant of Tartarus? Meeting Davy Jones again could only be punishment for centuries of villainy. If Killian were lucky the punitive sentence would be shortened given how he had tried to live the last few years of his life since meeting Emma Swan and her family, but perhaps even that was a fool's hope.
"They called me a fool for waiting for you," Davy noted in maniacal glee, not even addressing his son but thinking out loud. "Told me you was long dead, somewhere on land, but I said, I said! I knew in my gut you'd do proper by your family and die at sea! And 'ere you are!"
Killian silently refused to talk with the bastard. This was the man who abandoned his family only to return after Liam had gone into the navy and their mother had passed. This was the man who dragged a young Killian between ships and pubs and kingdoms, throwing their ill gotten money away on drink and eventually leaving his son hungry and alone altogether. As far as Killian was concerned, Davy Jones had failed his family, and no amount of joy in the man's face would change how Killian felt about the bastard who sired him.
"All that's left is to find Liam on the riverbanks, then we'll be a proper family again," Davy muttered, sounding absolutely sure of himself. "Liam died on land. That's the only reason I never saw 'im at sea, but I've got you now and I'll see Liam soon too."
"Don't you dare say his name," Killian seethed. "You're not fit to speak it."
But Davy didn't listen to his son's outburst, only further lamented on the imagined fate of his eldest son. "Joneses are meant for the sea, meant to live at sea and die in her embrace. To die ashore like some landlubber… Poor lad's soul must be lost, wandering the shores of Styx all this time. I'll save his soul yet…"
Confusion filled Killian, along with a growing dread that Davy was well and truly mad. "The bloody hell are you on about? Liam died at sea. I gave his body to the waves myself." Killian was proud that his voice kept steady, but it didn't stop the clenching of his heart as he remembered the brief funeral he'd given his brother before turning pirate.
Davy Jones' expression looked broken when Killian's interruption finally registered, and he stared up at his son as if he were only just seeing him for the first time. "Did he? Impossible, I would've saw 'im… I remember every soul lost to the sea while I've been captain," He muttered, eyes blinking in a daze.
Killian stared at Davy aghast. "You never saw him because he died before you… How the bloody fuck did you outlive your son?" He stammered in horror, his heart clenching into an icy fist. It wasn't fair. Brave and honorable Liam had died first when his life should have been longest and brightest. The horror twisted into disgust as Killian continued to stare down the man in the chair. How dare such a coward outlive his noble son? How dare he sit there and talk nonsense about saving souls and being a family? Killian's heart clenched again in further pain, muting him to the world but focusing his anger at the same time. The bastard had lost every right to family when he walked away from them. He didn't deserve even the hope of seeing Liam again.
If only there was a more permanent and torturous end for the bastard, a fate worse than death…
"Of course there is, so why haven't you put him through it yet?" A familiar woman's voice echoed through the cabin, seductive and low. Killian's head whipped toward the corner of the room where the source of the voice leaned causally against the cabin wall, dressed in head to toe black leather. Her skin and hair were as pale and cold as ice, and her darkened lips quirked up in a curious sneer. At the sight of her Killian's blood froze. "It would be the least of what he deserves. Rumplestiltskin was no better, abandoning his young son to a strange realm like a coward."
"Swan?" He whispered, not acknowledging her words, however much he found himself silently agreeing with them. The figure chuckled darkly and tipped one eyebrow upward. Wrong, not Swan. This was the Dark One still using his Emma's lovely form. "Why are you here? And how? The darkness was pulled from you, why are you here like this now?" His words were choked and broken. How could he have failed her? Excalibur was supposed to work. The darkness was supposed to be gone. Was this a further vision meant to torment him in the afterlife?
"What's gotten into you?" Davy accused, confused by Killian's sudden shift in focus.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not her. Not really," The Dark Swan told Killian with a casual shrug.
Killian's anger came rushing out. "The bloody hell does that mean? Explain yourself!"
"Who're you shoutin' at boy? Whose this Swan?" Davy's mood grew impatient and irate, but Killian barely heeded the rising danger, already too consumed in the impossible sight of the Dark Swan aboard a ship meant for the dead.
"Don't call me- You can't see her? She's right there!" Killian gestured wildly toward the corner of the room.
"The bookshelf? Boy, lie down, clearly you're not in your right mind." Davy stood and approached him, one meaty hand reaching for Killian's shoulder, but Killian shoved the hand aside in a flourish. As he did, something fiery and hot and angry burst from him, shooting down his arm and straight into Davy Jones. Davy was sent flying across the room and smashed into the nearby wall. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, the barest of twitches the only sign that he had not died once again.
It was a sight that greatly pleased a part of Killian he had thought long dead since his days of piracy. But as pleased as that part of him was, the rest of him was properly caught in the moment, shocked at the sudden burst of magic and power he had just released. "Bloody hell… Why did I…?"
"Oh, spare me," The Dark Swan seethed. "You and I both know that was a love tap compared to what that bastard deserves, and we both know even another death would be too good for him. He really is like Rumplestiltskin, he's a coward who never should have outlived his more noble son."
He barely flinched at her harsh words, part of him pleased to hear them said aloud. "But how did I…?"
"You know this one. Just think it through and remember," She taunted.
Remembering, or at least trying to decipher the Dark Swan's meaning, was a great blur, a foggy mess of erased memories and stormy emotions. They swirled through Killian's mind and he could only pick out a few thoughts at a time with any coherency. There were memories of Storybrooke in the last few weeks, of the Dark Swan's reign there.
She tsked in annoyance at him before he could delve too deeply into those thoughts. "I thought you were clever? Those aren't the memories you should be looking at."
"What are you talking about?" He asked, still unsure how she could know his silent thoughts.
The Dark Swan rolled her eyes in a movement so like Emma that Killian's heart ached at the sight. "Go back just a little further. I know she talked to you about it."
"Swan? In Camelot?" Killian let his thoughts drift to Camelot and the haze of amnesia that accompanied those memories, starting with the earliest memories of their time in the other realm. Finding Emma with the red-haired girl's heart in her hand, hearing her reasoning for needing to crush it…
("You don't understand what's at stake. If I don't find Merlin the darkness will destroy all of you.")
("She has to die.")
Those were not Emma's words. Killian had known that right away, but at the time he thought those were the words of the darkness trying to corrupt her heart. It was more than that. There was something else, something he was just glimpsing. He pushed through the misty haze that tried to hide his memories of Camelot, and tried to remember more of what Emma had told him in her early days as the Dark One.
("He's inside my head. I can't get him out.")
("It's Rumplestiltskin, or at least something that looks like him. I've been seeing him in my head ever since we got here.")
Killian's eyes widened and his breath caught as he remembered Emma's plight in Camelot and her very physical struggle against the darkness. He glanced up at the Dark Swan and saw the recognition flash through her darkened eyes. "You figure it out yet?" She teased him again.
"Aye, you're a memory of her, of the Dark Swan," He answered. Just as Emma was tormented by visions of the crocodile in Camelot so too would Killian be haunted by visions of his love at her darkest. "The last Dark One before me. I'm the Dark One now."
"Welcome to the club, lover," She taunted in a voice that set his skin to crawling and anger flaring through him at her words. "I'm not just her memory though, I'm all Dark One's. And all of us, together, are here to guide you, not that you need much guiding."
His anger was quickly overshadowed by a much kinder realization, one that lightened his heart and set it to fluttering happily. "If I'm the Dark One then that means the darkness is gone from Emma. She's finally free," He said, feeling more at peace in that moment than he had in a long time. If Emma was safe then it didn't matter what happened to him. Come hell or high water he had promised to keep Emma safe and it seemed in his final moments he had kept his promise. Killian breathed out a sigh of relief at the realization.
If this was the price for Swan's freedom, to become the very thing he had sought for so long to destroy, than he was glad to have paid it. He could go to the afterlife in some semblance of peace, perhaps even survive the journey there in close quarters with Davy Jones, especially with his new found magic.
"About that journey… We're a little stuck," The Dark Swan answered his unspoken thoughts.
"Stuck? What could you possibly mean by that?"
She pushed off the wall and sauntered around the room, eyes glancing with disinterest about the cabin. "You already know this is the Flying Dutchman and you know it's true purpose."
"To ferry the souls of the dead lost at sea to the afterlife. I died aboard the Jolly Roger so technically that includes me, does it not?" He asked, confused and watching her warily.
She nodded in agreement. "Normally it would, but what can the Dark One never do that every other creature alive can?"
He shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Oh good grief, stop being so dense! You're better than that!" She complained. "Think it over. You should know this better than anyone. What's the one thing you searched for all those centuries?"
"The dagger, but what-"
"Not the dagger!" She interrupted, angry and seething and halted in place as she hissed at him. "The dagger was a means to an end. What were you searching for all that time?"
He narrowed his eyes at her in realization. "Vengeance," Killian answered. "A way to kill the crocodile. The Dark One can't be killed by conventional means. I needed the Dark One's dagger to do it."
The Dark Swan coiled back, seeming pleased with his answer. "Exactly. But the dagger and sword were re-forged and made whole again."
"Re-forged into Excalibur, I know. It's the one blade that could kill a Dark One and I was stabbed in the heart with it before any such corruption could take place," Killian tried to tell her. Emma had stabbed him on the deck of the Jolly Roger and the darkness had seeped from her and into the sword. If the hallucination of the Dark Swan in front of him was to be believed, and he unfortunately suspected she was, then that darkness continued from Excalibur into him instead of staying put inside the sword.
The Dark Swan shook her head at him. "You were infected by Excalibur and joined the ranks of the Dark Ones in eternal life. You're immortal now, and cannot journey to the underworld as a spirit."
"Then why the bloody fuck am I here?" He demanded. "If I'm not dead then how and why am I on this accursed ship?"
She looked at him in thought before glancing briefly toward the still fallen Davy Jones. "Now isn't that the million dollar question?" She mused.
Her answer did nothing to satisfy Killian's questions or quell his rising temper. "But why didn't it kill me? Excalibur was stabbed through my mortal heart, I still don't understand why that didn't end me once and for all."
"The darkness chose to save you, Killian Jones, as it has always saved you, given you purpose. There is perhaps no one more suited and primed to be the Dark One than you," She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, a truth as eternal as the ocean, and it pissed Killian off even more.
"The bloody hell are you on about, you blasted harpy? How could the darkness 'choose' me?" He spat at her, the heat and fire rising again from his chest and through his arms, ready to be unleashed onto the manipulative vision should she speak falsely.
She did not flinch at his insults or his anger. If anything, she expected them and plowed forward with her explanation. "After your brother died did you return to your kingdom to bring your corrupt monarch to justice, an act that would have surely seen you killed for treason? No, you followed the darkness and turned pirate. You survived and your reign of terror brought the kingdom to its knees."
"I brought a corrupt monarchy to an end, what does it matter how I did it?" He answered with a roll of his eyes.
The Dark Swan continued, approaching him where he stood in the middle of the cabin. "As a helpless child you couldn't save your mother from a horrid marriage but as a ruthless pirate you could take Milah from hers. Your quest to avenge her death kept you alive for centuries thereafter, through trials and tribulations and certain-death encounters. You have always been willing to do whatever it took, no matter the lengths or cost, to get what you wanted, because you know better than most that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. The darkness recognized that in you early on, Killian Jones, and it fought for you."
Killian stared at the vision in disgust and horror. "Everything I did, every step I ever took in life, you're saying you lot orchestrated it?"
"Of course not literally," The Dark Swan snapped at him. "Those steps were your own. I'm simply saying I'm impressed with them and now I want to help you."
He narrowed his eyes, rightly suspicious but wrongly intrigued. "Help me how?"
"You've spent centuries seeking vengeance but you've fought alone. Let the darkness help you, let it be the sword with which you exact your justice. With my help you can do it, you can find justice and peace at long last for your brother, your mother, for everyone who was ever wronged in your life that your mortal self couldn't save," She told him, eyes boring into him eagerly.
Killian found it was easy to let her words sink in, to let them burrow their way under his skin and back into his heart, because she was right, the darkness had always been a part of him. It helped him survive all those years and it could help him finish his revenge at long last.
He let a malicious grin spread on his face. "Where do you suggest we start?"
The Dark Swan's answering sneer was a cold smirk of success, all teeth and harsh angles, so unlike his Emma's soft smiles, a distant part of him remembered. "I think you know exactly where to start." She pointed toward Davy Jones, who was only just beginning to crawl to his knees. "Take the ship from Davy Jones and it will be yours to command. It's certainly not as nice as your Jolly Roger but the Flying Dutchman is a ghost ship and ghosts can reach into the dreams of living souls from across the realms. They can even physically jump to those realms when summoned. Use the ship and the spirits on board to hunt down those who wronged you and everyone you cared for."
Killian followed her finger to kneeling man, thoughts swirling madly in his head. It was not difficult for him to see that the Dark Swan had a point. Davy Jones did not deserve even the afterlife he had been granted. He did not deserve the sight of Killian or the hope of seeing Liam again. He deserved the fate worse than death that Killian had hoped to give him earlier; the one the Dark Swan claimed was real. Now was the time to see if such a thing truly existed.
Davy had risen to his knees with a hand against the wall by then, and Killian took a few steps toward him. The magic and heated power was already building up in Killian's arms and he readied his hand to throw a bolt of the energy at the fallen man, his anger and the darkness cackling in mutual excitement. But he did not release the bolt soon enough, and was too late to notice the vial that was hidden in Davy's hand. In one swift motion Davy quickly unstopped the vial and threw its inky black contents onto Killian's form.
"Gah! The bloody hell is that?" Killian cried in surprise, frozen in place and unable to use his new found magic. He watched in rage as Davy rose on drunken legs to stand taller than he should have ever been allowed, his form pulling the air from the cabin.
"Squid ink." Davy's breathless answer was patronizing and tinged with hurt, the sort of tone Killian had heard Robin lecture his son Roland with on the rare occassion he was disappointed with him. It's presence now confused and angered him. "So you've magic now? Is that 'ow you survived all these years? Through the sickness of bloody sorcery?"
"What did you hear me saying?" Killian asked, suddenly very aware that no matter how much he had heard, Davy could only have heard one half of the conversation Killian had been having with the Dark Swan.
"I heard enough," Davy replied, his condescending tone and puffed out chest giving him an air of superiority that infuriated Killian.
Killian grit his teeth, eyes searching for the Dark Swan but realizing she was nowhere to be seen. "Release me now!"
Davy's eyes softened into a dazed grin that didn't match the foggy and reddened glaze of his eyes, and Killian was reminded of the covetous looks Ingrid had once shot Emma and Queen Elsa. He recognized the twisted desire for something lost, the unshakable willingness to sacrifice any and all for an unattainable goal. To be on the receiving end of such a gaze left Killian Jones well and truly terrified.
"Worry not boy, I'll have you fixed up and better soon, just you see. We'll be a proper family again in no time." Davy picked up a heavy looking tome and walked calmly forward. Frozen in place, Killian was helpless to stop Davy's arm once it pulled back and flew forward, the oncoming 'thwack' of the thick book against his head sending a sharp pain through his skull that was blissfully short-lived as he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Killian awoke not long after that to the familiar sensation of restraints holding him down and the unfamiliar feeling of what he assumed was dampened magic. His head still hurt from Davy's previous if brief assault of it, but at least there seemed to be a reasonably comfortable bed beneath him now. Unfortunately, Killian seemed to be incapable of leaving it. He tugged at his restraints several more times, at the knots holding his wrists and ankles and the gag in his mouth. When they did not budge, Killian glanced quickly around his surroundings, and was surprised to find himself still in the captain's cabin, his hook lying detached on the nearby table. Given his insubordination he would have thought it more likely he would be sent to the brig, son of the bastard captain or not, but it seemed that Davy Jones' sanity and reasoning were questionable at best when it came to family. That was something Killian could certainly use to his advantage.
"Oh yes, that will do nicely," The falsely sweet voice of a woman, someone other than the Dark Swan, sounded from just outside the cabin. The words were barely muted by the thick door and while his brain was having a difficult time placing the woman's voice right away, familiar as it was, Killian recognized Davy Jones' voice immediately when it chimed in.
"And you can help 'im? Take that magic and those visions of that blasted Swan away? Make 'im well again?" Davy sounded like he was pleading with the woman, which did not sit well with Killian. In fact, it made him a little sick to his stomach again to hear the man desperate.
There was a chuckle and then the woman spoke once more. "Fear not Captain Jones, your son will be sound of mind soon, and I'll have what we agreed to, of course?"
"Of course, the ingredients will be yours. I'll deliver the rest of them to you meself."
"Very good. When this is all over you'll have your sons and I'll have my daughter again and the power to protect her, just as it should be."
"Aye, nothing more important than family and what you're willing to do for 'em." A pause, and then Davy Jones spoke again. "I'll have some men take care of the sword for you. You say it's in Storybrooke? The land I found my son in?"
"Indeed it is. I admit it will be strange to eventually see it once again, magic boxes and all."
Killian's eyelids were too heavy to keep open for long but his last thoughts as he drifted out of consciousness once again were that he recognized the woman's voice, and that recognizing it meant trouble was coming not just for him, but for everyone in Storybrooke too.
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Before you ask, the answer is yes, there's a reason I didn't have Davy Jones add Killian's mother into his 'proper family' vision (And of course I can't tell you what it is yet!). I'll admit that writing Davy Jones like this gives me the serious creeps, but it's also something new I'm trying, so we'll see how that goes. Let me know what you think!