Chapter 13

Love

He is angry. Lately he feels like he's in a constant state of rage, a feeling he doesn't like. It's dark and terrifying.

But what does his mood matter if he's a dead man anyway?

" It's true, Killian. You are going to die. Your brother sent you here with a note telling me that you didn't – couldn't remember it."

What would have happened if he never went after Swan? If he never had his mind probed and prodded by magic? What would have happened if he never remembered?

Would he just drop dead one day? Or would it be a slow weakening of his body?

"What did I walk in on here?" Elizabeth repeats.

"What exactly do you want Sailor?" Emma had asked him.

What a ridiculous question. Emma Swan. All he wants is to be by her side. Why else had he saved her? Trusted her? Killed for her?

Make no mistake. He has wanted her since she asked that question the first time. But he was afraid, afraid she didn't want him, afraid that the second he opened himself to the possibility of more, she would disappear back into her world, leaving him to his.

But this time, he isn't afraid. He's dying. What does he have to lose?

So he kisses her. He takes a risk and goes for it. He feels her freeze against him, and his heart drops into his stomach. He pulls away to stammer out an apology he doesn't really mean.

But then, suddenly, she is kissing him, and it's everything. She burns into his soul, makes him feel brave, like the hero he once wished to be. He never wants to stop kissing her. He would be content to spend the rest of his life in this moment.

"Are you two even listening to me?" Elizabeth snaps.

He isn't.

Finally waving the list of needed supplies to get their attention, she tells them, "I got you your stuff, had the goods delivered to your boat."

"Liz, the Jewel of the Realm isn't a boat," he chastises. "But thank you. We'll just take our leave then. Come on, Swan." He reaches for Emma's hand, but she pulls away, a blush creeping over her cheeks. It makes him grin. Now at least he knows how to fluster her the next time she tries to make him sweat.

"Yes, thank you for your hospitality," Emma says softly.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to Victor?" Elizabeth asks Killian.

He clenches his fist, wanting more than anything to punch the healer, the man who had been family to him for years, the man who spent all that time only pretending to care about him.

"I already did."

…

Emma waits until they're back on the ship, away from the noise of the harbor, before she speaks. "You're angry. You've been angry since before we…we talked, since you were arguing with Victor."

He nods. "If I tell you, you're going to hate me," he says quietly.

Even though kissing her had made him feel more alive than ever, he is still dying. He will end up being just another person to leave her, no matter how much he doesn't want to.

Emma sighs, leaning into him. "Try me," she challenges. "You're talking to someone who has done terrible things, who has slayed villages simply because they were in the way."

Killian averts his gaze to look at the water. The ocean always calms him. Whenever he's had a problem before, being on the waves makes the world seem bigger, his problem smaller.

"Emma, love, I want to tell you, but it's something…something I'm having trouble accepting myself. Admitting it to you … would make it real."

She considers his answer for a moment, before she shrugs and turns away with a muttered "Fine."

"Swan -" he calls after her, but she shakes her head.

After a few minutes where they both stare out to sea on opposite sides of the ship, Emma walks back toward Killian. "Ingrid and Elsa are late. Think we should leave without them?" she asks, mischief dancing across her face.

He reflects the look, taking her peace offering gratefully.

"It would be dishonest to say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind," he admits. "But my loyalty is to you, so I will let you decide."

She smirks at that, moving into his personal space. "My decision? Tell me, sailor, what do you think I want to do?"

His face heats at the way her tongue flicks over the words. He can't help staring at her lips.

"Ah…" he stutters as she advances on him. Electricity races up his arm from where her hand falls on it. "Emma…" he breathes as she locks eyes with him.

"Careful sailor, you're turning pink. Makes a girl wonder what ungentlemanly thoughts are running through your head."

He gasps as she rests a hand on his neck. He presses his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent. He wants to kiss her, wants to lose himself in this moment.

He's going to die on his 30 th birthday.

He can't. He can't do this to her. He isn't that guy. He's not his brother.

"Looks like the Dark One finally decided to grow a pair," interrupts a snide voice.

Killian and Emma spring apart. "There you are, Elsa! You two are late," Emma snaps.

"Well we had quite a trek to get to the Wizard," Ingrid explains. "He told us where to go to find Anna's true love."

Emma laughs, dark and mocking. "Please, that's just a load of crap," she rolls her eyes. "True love isn't real. Of course you'd believe in something silly like that."

"I know it's real," Elsa says, chin up. "It has to be."

Emma almost lets it go. Killian can see her loss of interest. He's confident enough in the temporary truce to begin guiding the ship into open water.

"Come on, Elsa, let's go. She can't hope to understand," Ingrid says, hand on Elsa's shoulder, trying to lead her away.

He sees the warning in the small movements of Emma's body, the crease in her brow, the clenching of her hands, the way darkness swirls in her eyes.

Emma laughs bitterly again, whirling back around to face Elsa and her aunt. Ingrid is baiting Swan. He can see it plain as day, venturing closer apprehensively. He wonders what Ingrid is thinking, trying to provoke an altercation. What does the White Witch stand to gain?

Ingrid appears behind him, Emma and Elsa too absorbed in bickering to notice. "I have a deal to offer you, Killian," the witch murmurs. He doesn't dare move a muscle.

"I'd expect such silliness from Ingrid, but not you, Elsa," Emma is taunting. "I thought you were smarter than that. Besides, I thought you said she loved Hans, and he's dead, blade straight through his dark little heart. So if your precious true love's kiss myth is real, then your sister is gone too."

Elsa snaps. She throws a bolt of Ice at Swan, hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her off her feet. When Emma gets back up, she turns to Elsa with an unhuman look. She's all Dark One as she claps her hands, sending a stream of dark magic to strike Elsa right back.

Killian can only observe the witch fight from across the ship, cornered as he is by Ingrid and her sinister offer. "Aye? And what would that be?" he answers, fighting to keep his tone level.

"The truth," she says, pausing a beat before elaborating. "I can untangle the magic obscuring your memories, let them come back to you all at once instead of the trickle of fragments that's been driving you mad."

He tenses. "But you're not going to help me out of the goodness of your heart," he realizes. "You want something from me. I thought you were the goody two shoes, all about family and forgiveness and such?"

"This is for my family. I want you to leave Emma. Stop making eyes at her, stop the puppy dog act, stop all this nonsense before one of you gets hurt," says the Ice Witch. "You don't understand her, us, so stop trying."

Killian doesn't respond, and Ingrid fades away as if she were never there.

If I agree to her terms, I can get everything I want. I'll stop being tormented by these half-remembered scenes that make no sense. I'll finally know the truth, maybe learn something that will help me find Liam. Then I can return to my life, return to the life I've lived for the last 14 years. If his Captain doesn't kill him first.

As well as the unsavory fact of killing a monarch.

A knot forms in his chest as he tries to focus on the logic of his situation. He rings his hands through his hair.

But I'd lose Emma. I'd be just like all of those people she told him about, who used her and then left her. He would break his own heart just as much as he would hurt her.

Killian feels stuck between many potentially self-destructive decisions.

He hears Elsa yelp in pain, jarring him back to the present.

Swan is going to kill Elsa. He can't let that happen.

"Swan," Killian tries to reason as he launches himself across the ship to reach her.

"That's right, let the sailor tell you what to do," Elsa sneers. Maybe she has a death wish, because his warning glare isn't stopping her provoking words. "Show the world that to control the Dark One, you don't need a dagger. You just need a sob story and a pretty face."

Elsa throws her hands in the air dramatically, miming a swoon."Swan, Swan, oh Swan," she mimics his accented voice badly. "Please don't hurt anyone."

Killian stiffens. Images of stabbing Hans replay in his mind. He sees himself, stabbing the King over and over again. Who is he to preach about not hurting people? He's a hypocrite. A bloody hypocrite!

He can see the moment Emma snaps. She pulls her arm out of his grip and throws a right hook into Elsa's jaw. He hopes the resulting crunch is more satisfying than a magical deathblow would have been.

"Shut. Up." Emma growls. "Go rescue that ice cube you call a sister, and stay away from us."

"Hit a nerve, huh Swan?" Elsa snickers, though it doesn't come out very clearly through her clenched teeth. She spits blood at Emma's feet. "Good." Before anyone can make a quip about putting some ice on it, Elsa waves her hand over her face, healing the damage, and turns away to rant to her aunt.

"Swan…" Killian says softly. He places a tentative hand on her shoulder.

She slaps him away. "Don't you dare!" she seethes. "If you're going to stick around, then we need some ground rules."

He takes an unconscious step back at her sudden violent expression. "Fine, Swan. How can I perform to your liking?" He's too stunned, and maybe hurt, to think better of sarcasm in response to an angry Dark One. He hates the idea of listening to her set terms; the very notion implies some sort of corrupt arrangement. It's too similar to his captain spelling out the rules of his servitude.

"For one thing, can you stop shutting me out? I want to –". Her voice softening from shout to silence, she can't quite complete the thought.

Killian steps back into her space. "Tell me, Swan? What do you want? My heart? My soul? A promise never to disobey your nefarious wishes?" His volume is lower too, but it only makes his words strike deeper.

"No I –"

He goes on over her reply, "You called me a tool once. Is that still all I am to you? A servant at your beck and call? A pet for you to train?" Killian's control over himself is running thin, his emotions pulling him in a dozen directions.

He can't snap at her again.

He has to.

Emma looks stricken. "Killian-" she tries again, needing him stop but not quite knowing what to say. "No. That's not what I want," she promises, biting her lip. "I don't know what I want, ok?!"

But her body does. With the next breath, she reaches out to the lapels of his jacket and tugs. And then she's kissing him.

And he's kissing her back, nipping at her lips, breathing her in. He can feel the desperation in the kiss, the way she clings to his jacket. He wonders if she can feel his own fear. His fear of not being enough, of letting her down. No matter how tightly she clings, he's going to let her down.

"You're not an object," she breathes into his mouth. "Or a servant," she kisses his jaw. "Or an animal," she whispers into his ear.

And he knows it's true. Nothing about this kiss says business transaction. When Emma comes out from behind the Dark One's mask, shows herself only to him, she makes him feel like a king, not a slave. Like a captain instead of a deckhand.

"But still your favorite, I hope," he grasps for levity before the weight of their feelings, their fears, drags them down.

"Course," she smiles, a little breathless. "I haven't done this for a while..." She admits.

"Kiss?" He teases.

" Care." She insists. "I didn't expect to care about you."

Her admission takes him aback. He doesn't know how to process it. He doesn't know what to say. Apparently neither does she. She pulls away, ducking to avoid his gaze.

"Now go chart a course…please. You and I are going back home."

"If the lady wishes it," he says with an exaggerated bow. He loves the sound of her laugh.

He feels something expand in his heart, something hopeful, he thinks. Whatever doubts he feels about returning to Misthaven, about finding his brother, about learning the truth have faded under her touch. He'll be ok. If someone as breathtaking and as brave as Emma cares for him, he'll be ok. Who needs memories when you have a Swan?

…
His ebullient mood lasts a good hour. Emma follows him around the ship, asking questions and making snickering comments.

"Why do you keep adjusting the sails?"

"How do you know which way we're going?"

"I wonder how loud we'd have to be to get Elsa's attention."

Sharing his beloved ship with his…his Swan is pure happiness.

"Killian? What's that?"

He looks up, expecting it to see her pointing at some routine piece of sailing equipment, some new thing he can teach her.

She isn't. He follows her gaze to the horizon. A black sail. Killian curses. Bloody black sails.

"Emma, go get Elsa. I'm going to need both of your help," he says flatly, rushing to the wheel and making a sharp turn.

"Why? What's happening?" Emma asks.

"Well Swan, you turned me into a ship captain. Now we're going to see if I can turn you and Elsa into my crew. We're going to outrun a pirate ship."

10/20/17: Now beta read by the insightful notoriouscs