Chapter 17

The Hard Way

Telling Emma the truth, at least most of it, is both painful and liberating.

A part of him also figures that if someone, anyone really, knows his story, then perhaps his life won't be in vain. If he can give Emma some understanding, some insight, before he eventually dies, then perhaps there will have been some meaning in his life. He just needs to get around to telling her the rest of his tale, about the poison, about Milah, about Bae.

Bloody hell will it hurt to tell her about Bae.

But now is not the time. He needs to wait until they're alone to tell her the rest.

And they are very not alone right now. Now there are pirates on the ship, his ship. Not the Captain's ship, not Liam's. This is his bloody ship.

Killian Jones does not want pirates on his bloody ship.

"My business is with the Captain," he shouts at the strange men onboard, all of whom are leering disrespectfully at Elsa and Emma. Their lewd gazes make him tense, and he moves to block their views of the sorceresses. "And if you look at them once more, I swear they'll be the last thing you ever see," he growls raising his blade threateningly toward one of the men.

Their captain, a tall man with a large beard, steps forward.

A large black beard.

"Who the hell are you? I know the captain of this vessel, and it isn't you, boy."

Killian grimaces, but keeps his gaze level. These men feed on fear; they crave it. He is bloody terrified, but refuses to move a muscle.

"I'm the new owner," he replies with a sneer. "So either get off my ship, or you and I are going to have a problem."

The pirate captain eyes Killian carefully, scrunching his brow. "Hmm. Who are you? I remember you."

Killian remembers him too. It's hard to forget that voluminous black beard. He'd seen the man several times throughout the years he sailed with Liam. Killian often saw his brother with this pirate carousing in taverns, drinking their gold away. One particular incident stands out in his memory, even without a Jabberwocky forcing him to relive it.

"Now you, Captain Jones, know the important things in life," the bearded pirate says as Liam throws back the liquor in his glass.

Usually Liam doesn't let his little brother catch him at his "extracurricular activities," but Killian had a nightmare and wants the comfort of his brother. So when he learned Liam went to town, thats just where Killian went to find him. He was either a brave 10 year old or a stupid one.

"Gold, rum and women," the man laughs.

Liam nods in jovial agreement before turning and spotting Killian,

"Kill…" Liam slurs. "What – Who –" He reaches for Killian, stumbling. The younger Jones has to reach up and keep his elder brother from falling over. It scares Killian how drunk Liam is. He's never like this.

"I had a nightmare. Lizzie said you were here," Killian explains quietly,it all feels like a stupid idea now.

"Liam? Who's this?" a blonde woman asks, draping herself over Liam's arm, looking slightly annoyed. She's wearing too much makeup and blinking at Liam over and over, for some reason. "I'm ready for my night cap," the woman announces to Liam, popping the p.

"Liam," Killian says. "Let's get out of here, please? Let's go back to the Jolly."

Liam looks dreamily at the blonde, running his hand through her hair. "Princess..." he slurs, pressing his nose into her neck. The woman giggles and pulls him closer, making sure he can't see the glare she is shooting Killian.

"Liam!" Killian tries one last time.

The pirate with the black beard makes an irritated noise as he stands, towering over Killian. Without any warning, the man hits him in the face. "He's busy, boy. Make yourself scarce," the brigand growls. "Can't you see that your brother is occupied by important things? No time for little ungrateful brats," he sneers, kicking Killian in the stomach. "You should learn by now that pirates don't cry. They don't run to their brothers because they're scared of the dark." He taunted.

Killian's brother slides his hand under the lady's shirt, paying no mind to the abused boy on the floor only a few feet away.

"Liam…" Killian whispers meekly before bolting back to his room on the Jolly, where he cries himself to sleep.

Killian straightens, mentally and physically squaring his shoulders. He isn't that little kid anymore, and he intends to prove it. "Perhaps you've heard of my kin, Liam Jones."

Both recognition and fear flash in the pirate captain's eyes.

Killian laughs loudly. "Ah, so you do remember him," he sneers. "My elder brother had quite the reputation on these seas. Beat you within an inch of your life for laying a hand on his family, as I recall."

"Killian? Elizabeth said you were feeling ill and had a nightmare last night?" Liam asks, knocking on his door the morning after the tavern debacle. Killian refuses to move from his corner of the room. He hadn't wanted Elizabeth to see him cry, and he especially doesn't want to cry in front of Liam.

"Killy?" Liam asks again, pushing the door open a fraction.

Killian hides his face under the covers. "Go away!" he yells, trying to keep tears from escaping yet again. He can't help it. All Killian wanted last night was his big brother, his hero and protector, and Liam hadn't cared, hadn't even noticed when his friend hit his younger brother.

Despite his protests, he hears Liam's quiet footsteps enter the room and feels him sit down beside him.

"Killian? What's wrong, little brother? Are you ill again? Chills? Tummy ache?" he presses, pulling the blanket away.

Killian refuses to look at Liam but hears his gasp all the same.

"Oh Killian, what the bloody hell happened?"

Killian flinches away when his brother's hand pushes against the dark bruise around his eye. "Leave me alone!" he snaps, He isn't going to cry. Killian Jones is a pirate, and pirates don't cry!

"Killian, what's wrong? This isn't like you," Liam insists.

"I had a nightmare last night," Killian says simply, watching Liam for any sort of recognition. Elizabeth told him once that when Liam and Victor went to taverns, they sometimes had trouble remembering what happened.

"A nightmare…" Liam repeats, grabbing his head. "I thought that was a dream…I'm sorry, Killy. I don't remember much. Please tell me who did this to you? I'm your big brother! I have to protect you, but I can't unless you tell me what happened."

Killian feels tears slip down his cheeks no matter how much he tries to resist.

"I was scared, but you were kissing some blonde and acting funny. I wanted you to stop and…" Killian hesitates, breaking from sniffles into complete sobs. "And your friend hit me and kicked me and … and … and, he told me you were too busy for me. He said I wasn't important to you." As his brother tries to pull him into an embrace, Killian pushes him away. "So just go away!"

Liam doesn't respond for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists before placing his hand over one of his little brother's bruises. "Killian, look at me," he insists.

"You, my dear brother, are the most important thing in the entire world to me, more than gold, more than any woman. You are my little brother. I love you. I'm so very sorry that man laid a hand on you. He shouldn't have done that, and I should have beaten the daylights out of him – a mistake I will rectify as soon as possible," he adds harshly.

"I promise, nothing will ever keep me from putting you first again," Liam vows, pulling a stunned Killian into a hug.

It's not lost on Killian that Liam broke that vow only a few years later. Now that he remembers the truth, the fact that Liam traded away his little brother for his own life is never, for a second, lost on him.

"He hasn't been heard from in 15 years," the enemy pirate captain responds to Killian's mention of Liam. "I thought he perished, caught by some country, hung for his sins."

Killian laughs, flipping his blade with forced calm. "Please," he chuckles, "My brother is a legend. He wasn't caught by some puppet king." Killian circles the opposing pirate slowly, menacingly, gathering his thoughts. "No, Liam is far too ruthless."

The pirate captain has his sword in hand, but he seems too curious about Killian's tale to raise it. And Killian, who is used to blocking out thoughts of Liam's disappearance, is only too happy to play with it now, to use Liam's name to get his way.

"He'll die on his 30 th birthday, and you, Captain, will live."

After all, it isn't like Liam had cared for him anyway. He had been no more than a pawn to Liam, an object to trade in when he needed to. Turns out his older brother had been – still is – nothing but a coward. What does Killian care about his bloody name? His bloody reputation? After all, the man sent him away to live 15 miserable years alone, just waiting until he is scheduled to die.

"Traded away his own brother for a little gold. Did you know that?" Killian lies. "Gave me this scar, right here on the cheek," he muses, tapping his skin.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Kill," Liam says, bandaging the wound. "Why were you running around the deck like that while I was sparring, anyway?" he demands. He's shaking, terrified at the thought of hurting the boy he's supposed to be protecting.

Killian is a liar, but what the hell, so is Liam. Except his own lie won't hurt anyone, while Liam's broke Killian's heart and ruined his life.

His pirate opponent eyes him warily.

Killian doubles down on the swagger. "Now I have his ship, so what does that tell you?"

The man huffs, drawing his weapon. "The last captain of this ship was not Liam Jones, lad. But now I recall where I saw you last, boy." He closes the distance between them with a repulsive leer on his face.

Liam returns to the ship with bloodied knuckles and darkness in his eyes. It's the same look he often wears when he comes back from "pirate business." Killian watches him lift his flask slowly, studying it. Without warning, he hurls it across the ship and turns his back to it in a single motion, eyes finding Killian's.

"He'll never hurt you again, you understand?" Liam promises.

"The man with the black beard?" Killian asks haltingly.

"No, Killian," Liam shakes his head. "The man…the man who nearly drank himself to death last night, the one who was too preoccupied by his own misery to notice that you needed him, the man who let you down last night."

From Killian's expression, it's clear he doesn't understand.

"That man, the man who I've become, will never rear his ugly head again, understood? I'm so sorry, little brother. Things will change. I'll change. I swear it."

As it turns out, no matter how much they remember, pirate captains who hit small children and then get pummeled in return by younger, stronger captains prefer not to recount their beatings in front of their crews.

So the bearded pirate calls up a different memory.

"You're the cowardly deckhand who couldn't even hold his rum."

Killian scowls, "I'm allergic."

The man scoffs. "Last time I checked, being a bloody lightweight isn't an allergy, mate."

He did something right and good. He stood out to the crew as more than just a deckhand. He could see it in their faces, the respect they had for his knowledge. So the rest of the crew take him out for some celebratory rum. Killian hopes this means they are willing to give him a chance, treat him like one of the guys.

Unfortunately, rather than buying him drinks as a gesture of friendship, they only get him hammered so they can set him up and laugh at his embarrassing antics.

This pirate had been there, joining Killian's crewmates in reveling in his misery.

He might have been a laughingstock then, but no more. On this ship, Killian is in charge, or so he tries to tell himself, swinging at the man.

As their swords clash, the older pirate goes back to needling him. In between taunts about his cowardice and stupidity, the pirate is gaining ground against Killian. The deckhand-turned-captain is putting on a good show for someone who wouldn't pick up a blade a week ago and manages some impressive blocking maneuvers, but his seasoned opponent is stronger and far more practiced at this dueling-to-the-death thing.

Killian is starting to panic. He knows he should stay calm. He can't afford to lose focus, but it's easier said than done with his life on the line and a blade swiping ever closer to his body. He can barely keep him back.

Bloody hell, he's going to kill me. He's going to stab me, cut me, and throw me overboard. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

"Once we're done with you, boy, the crew is going to have fun with those lasses. How did you get them all aboard your ship anyway?"

Emma.

Something in him clicks. He can't lose here. He can't die here. He refuses to. Because he wants her. He wants Emma more than anything in all the realms right now.

"Liam, during the storm, you acted strange," Killian says.

They're in Liam's cabin nursing a cold.

"I heard the voice of someone I love," Liam admits slowly. "No one you know, Killy," he says when Killian presses.

"Why not? If you love her, why haven't I met her?" Killian asks, somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Because she's scared right now, and it's my job to protect her, even from annoying little brothers," Liam tries to distract him.

"Younger brother!" Killian reminds him, but isn't deterred. "And why do you need to protect her?"

Liam looks up at the cabin ceiling. "Because, Killian, you have to fight to protect the ones you love. You have to protect them from everything, especially from your own demons. A man who won't fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

Killian forces Liam from his mind. The middle of a swordfight isn't a great time to reminisce.

But it is a good time to remember Emma, to remember that if he dies now, if he loses this fight, then Emma will come out swinging. She and Elsa and possibly Ingrid will have to fight a full crew of pirates and draw attention to themselves. Even if they survive, they can't sail the Jewel on their own. And he can't even think about what will happen to them if the pirates get the upper hand.

He's never had anyone else relying on him before, never been trusted to defend others. For his entire life so far, whatever he did would only affect him.

Now he has Emma, Elsa and Ingrid depending on him.

Now he has no choice but to win.

"You won't get anywhere near her – them," he answers. The pirate lunges at him, making him recoil to avoid getting hit. He tumbles to the deck in the process.

" Her ? I see you have a special one, deckhand."

Killian gets to his feet in a flash, blocking the man's next blow, one that nearly sliced through his neck.

"I don't think it was the icy blonde. She seems too rigid, no fun at all," the lecher observes as he pulls his arm back.

Killian takes the chance to put some distance between them, just enough to breath a bit. By now, he knows this man is toying with him, using Killian as little more than some entertainment for his crew, all of whom are playing along brilliantly, laughing, hooting, demanding blood.

Bloody hell, the pirate is still talking.

"But that other blonde, with the leather ," he licks his lips obscenely. "I doubt a coward like you even knows what to do with a lass like her." He pauses for crew participation. "After I'm through with her, she'll know how a real captain takes a ship."

Killian has to concentrate on not shaking with the force of his rage. The man is toying with him. Killian suddenly understands why Liam beat him so easily all those years ago. All this man cares about is inflating his own ego, not the battle before them.

Killian straightens, squares his shoulders and puts a pitying sneer back on his face. This man must not be very skilled if he's relying on these tactics. "Please, you couldn't handle it."

Perhaps he can do this. Killian knows that what he lacks in experience, he can make up for in his knowledge of the environment.

The infuriated pirate lunges at Killian with homicidal intent. Perfect.

Killian doesn't have the strength or the skill to win this fight. But he does have his ship. Captain or not, she's always been his ship, every last plank of her. With the enemy stalking him step-for-step, Killian leaps backwards and just slightly to the left, knowing perfectly well –

crack

– which board not to land on. As his prey falls neatly into his trap, one foot crashing through a rotting plank to hold him in place, Killian strikes. His opponent's blade goes flying as the scoundrel flails, trying unsuccessfully to keep his balance.

The pirate audience gasps as their captain hits the deck, Killian's sword held neatly against his throat.

"She prefers a man with a head on his shoulders," Killian says with a smirk. "Now tell your crew to get off my ship, " he demands, eyes turning cold. "Before I make you walk the plank."

The man rolls his eyes at that last bit of dramatics, as if he hadn't been staging his own show the whole time. "Fair is fair, boy. You won our duel, and while my men could make short work of you, it would be bad form to break our deal."

Killian's breathing hitches. Did he actually win?

"And I do owe that brother of yours one for letting me live," the salty captain mutters as he gets to his feet.

Killian nods watching as the assembled crew disperses, grumbling but obedient.

"Killian, next time we meet, I won't let you off this easy," warns the older sailor. "You better build a crew you can trust if you think you can follow in Liam's footsteps. A captain without a crew isn't much of a captain."

Killian doesn't respond. He just watches, mind swimming, as the pirates board their own ship and sail away.

Eventually his breathing calms, and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

I was just in a swordfight with a pirate, one who knows my brother.

And I won.

His small chuckle evolves into a manic release of tension, and finally into a laugh of pure victory. He's on top of the world, and it's all because of her, his Swan, because she gives him someone to fight for, and because she believes in him. He needs her right now, needs to see her, to tell her that he faced his foe and won. He doesn't care that she'll tease him for it later; he just wants her in his arms.

He rushes below deck, throwing open doors until he finds her. He whisks Emma up and into his embrace, twirling her until her feet dangle in the air.

She shrieks in glee as he spins her. Over the sound of her laughter, Killian can barely hear Elsa scoff and Anna giggle.

"Emma, I did it! I won!" he crows, opening his eyes to take in the radiance of her features, the smile on her intoxicating lips...

"Easy tiger," she breathlessly interrupts his adrenaline-fueled tumble from relief to lust. "I knew you could do it," she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Oh Elsa! They really are cute!" Anna gushes, nudging her sister.

The Ice Queen rolls her eyes. "They're nauseating."

Killian puts down his blushing Swan. "Sorry love, I just got wrapped up in my excitement." He scratches behind his ear, averting his gaze slightly.

With a gratingly false cough, Ingrid, the Snow Queen, glares at them. He squirms. The woman's cold eyes just make him uncomfortable. And he still doesn't know exactly what she did to him when she helped herself to his memories. Killian was thankful that she hated the outdoors unless she could keep it below freezing, much preferring to stay below deck rather than help her nieces act as crewmen.

"We were having a discussion," Ingrid scolds. "And you are interrupting, sailor. Go back to your post, and take Anna with you. We still have more to discuss," she orders, waving vaguely toward the deck above.

Killian looks between Ingrid and Emma. He'll wait for her word, his Emma. If she wants to talk to her sort-of aunt, then he'll leave her to it, but he doesn't like being dismissed by this woman.

"Elsa," Emma says slowly. He can feel her anger vibrating under her show of calm.

"Emma," Elsa mirrors in unspoken agreement.

Ingrid's own fury appears just as bright as the girls' her hands sparking with blinding white magic, somehow electric and cold at the same time. His instinct is to cower away from it, but he doesn't let himself. He stands strong, moving his hand over his sword. He doesn't feel like he'd stand much of a chance against this woman, but it makes him feel better to be armed.

"Girls, send your toys away. Now." Ingrid's command sounds like the order of a mother to her children, and he knows how well both of them will take that. Lord knew how angry Swan got when he gave her an order, and that hadn't even been a direct one.

He exchanges a look with Anna, who is some combination of confused and terrified. They both know hell is about to break loose. Maybe they should step back, give the Snow Queen some distance before she reveals just how little she values their lives. It's not an option for him, however, as Emma tightens her grip on his jacket protectively. Possessively even?

"I have a better idea," Emma growls, suddenly dropping her hold on him. "Killian, stay here with Anna. The three of us are going above deck for a bit, all right?" It may have been phrased as a question, but it clearly wasn't one.

He nods his agreement anyway. Emma keeps her glare locked with Ingrid's as she pulls him in for a kiss. He knows it's just to spite the Snow Queen, but he'll revel in the feeling of Emma Swan's lips on his any chance he gets.

He's dazed for a second, which is all it takes for the trio of furious witches to disappear.

"Killian? What just happened?" the red-headed lass asks, eyes wide as she lets out a breath. "Everything was ok at least for the most part, like Emma and Elsa made amends and everything seemed like it was going to be ok, and then –"

He nods as he settles himself to sit opposite her on one of the beds in the officers' quarters, the one Elsa has been using, he thinks. Might as well get comfortable. Who knows how long it will take for the ladies to cool off?

Pun intended.

"Your aunt has a particular disdain for our kind," he tells Anna, laying back with his arms under his head, eyes drifting closed as the adrenaline of the afternoon fades from his veins.

"Our kind?"

"Mere mortals. Those of us without magic," he explains, not moving. "She already tried to warn me off Emma." Her ultimatum – his memories or Emma – still weighs heavily on his conscience. It's an impossible choice, as the reason he wants to untangle his memories is to find a way to avoid abandoning Emma.

"Why would she want us out of their lives?" Anna asks in a shaky voice.

"Depends on what your impression of her," Killian huffs. "I've narrowed it down to two probable reasons." He's been thinking about it for days. "If you believe her spirit to be as light as her magic, then she wants the best for them, her sisters, and she's afraid we'll hurt them."

Anna doesn't respond at first. "How could we hurt them?" she eventually whispers.

He turns toward her, looking at her carefully. "Your sister has magic. Shouldn't you be the expert on this stuff?" he asks. He doesn't really know the siblings' story. "I've only known Emma and Elsa for a few days, and I've already gathered quite a few things about them."

Anna keeps quiet, fiddling with her hands.

"From what I gather, Ingrid hates magical users, she believes we either hate and fear magic, or want to use it to control them"He can see the guilt on Anna's face.

A large screech comes from above deck. He shudders.

"I am afraid of her, Killian," Anna says softly. "She was so much fun when we were little, so gentle. But now? Now she's terrifying. She almost killed you! She's killed before, I can tell. What if…what if I make her angry? Will she kill me too? And Emma, she's the Dark One! I remember the rumors, the horror stories about her, she was the stuff of nightmares!"

They are honest questions, but a dangerous ones.

"Don't think like that, Anna. What does your heart tell you? Elsa may be different now, she may be harsher, colder even, she may be a bit rougher around the edges, but she still loves you. When she found you frozen, she was devastated that her magic harmed you, she became adamant about saving you, had her stunt with me failed, she was never going to give up until she'd saved you. Do you really think your sister who did all that would ever purposely hurt you?" he asks, taking her hands in his, stopping her fiddling and forcing her to look at him.

She shakes her head. "What happened to me, being frozen alive, was an accident. Elsa didn't even know it happened. I tried to find her, but I froze too quickly. Even if she would never do anything on purpose, I'm afraid of another accident. What if you aren't there to unfreeze me?"

"So I guess you know, then," Killian sighs. "About the feelings that Elsa thinks I have."

Anna nods. "I heard what she said about what the wizard told her. Thank you," she says softly, gripping his hands a little tighter. "I owe you everything."

He rubs behind his ear. "But I don't. I can't. I can't love, not right now," he struggles to convince himself as much as her. "It's not possible." Not as long as he's counting down the days until his death via curse.

He cannot love Emma Swan if he is going to die. He can't be another person to show her love only to leave her.

"Hope you know you're lying to yourself," Anna says cheerily.

He groans in annoyance "Yes, I suppose I am." He looks around to make sure it's only him and Anna before he confesses, "it's easier to hate the Dark One, to fear her, than it is to love her."

But he doesn't hate her, could never hate her. Now he's stuck going down the harder path. It had never really been a choice at all, not since the moment he saw behind the monster.

Killian hops into bed, legs crossed. "Falling in love sounds hard, Liam. It sounds scary

That makes his older brother laugh. "It is. Falling in love is like finding and losing yourself in one moment. It's like finding out that the only person in the world who can fix you is also the only person who can truly wreck you," he explains, or at least tries to. "But you can't help it, Killian. When you fall in love, you can't help it. But once you do, you know. You always know."

Right now, Killian knows. He thought he knew with Milah, but this, this is different. This is a thousand times better.

"Thank you, Killian. I think I know what to do now," Anna smiles at him. "I think I know how I can avoid hurting her now."

He's glad he could help her, even as in doing so, he realizes he's so far beyond helping.

"Killian?"

They both jump. He stands to meet her eyes, a smile on his face.

Emma is smiling too, but it's weak effort. He can see burns on her arms and exhaustion in her features, but there's something else too. He wants to let her lean on him, let him soothe her obviously aching soul.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks, moving to close the distance between them.

But she steps back, out of his reach. She might as well have slapped him; he knows a rejection when he sees one. He doesn't understand the sudden change. Emma went from possessively kissing him to pulling away.

"I'm fine," Swan snips, crossing her arms almost angrily. "Ingrid isn't going to be bothering us anymore. Just get us back to port."

And she's gone, her order left in her wake.

Killian turns to see Elsa chatting easily with her sister. She has burns like Emma's on her arms, but Anna is patching them with a smile, and both seems almost pleased for Anna to have a reason to take care of Elsa.

He looks back in the direction Emma fled, longing to go after her. First he'll follow her wishes and check the ship's course, but then he's going to find out what happened.

He considers for a moment letting her, letting her push him away, but he can't.

He desperately wants to protect his Swan, but he can't help gravitate towards her.

He's a selfish idiot in love.

12/11/17: Now Betad by the lovely Notoriouscs

~Luna