A/N: This is a Killian POV, yay! I love writing him, like, probably more than I should. And I love this chapter. This is Temperance, which is one of those good cards in the Tarot. It's all about opposites finding a balance and a way to coexist with each other. There's some angst here, because Killian has a lot going on in his brain, but overall, I think it's just the sort of chapter we can all use today, in light of the new episode coming up. Only seven more chapters of this baby to go, can you believe it? I love all of you who are reading this and I am glad you've all enjoyed it so far. I only hope I don't disappoint you as we hit the home stretch.
Chapter Fourteen
Temperance
"I have this feeling that I finally found the words to say, but I can't tell you if you turn around and runaway … "
It was better than any dream he'd had about it. When she had finally pulled him back to her, and kissed him like she meant it, at last, the remaining vestiges of his resolve when it came to her crumbled, and he had succumbed to everything she'd offered.
He really should have known better.
But, once again, he'd gone and been a bleeding idiot when it came to her. There was a moment that their eyes had met, when his fingers had been pressing into her hip and her nails had been digging into his biceps as he'd buried himself in her, and he was sure nothing had ever been more right in his entire life — and he'd seen it reflected there, in those stormy eyes of hers.
He should've known he'd wake up alone.
Didn't make it sting any less, though.
"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, rolling onto his back and hitting his head against the ground gently. With a growl of frustration, he finally forced himself to his feet, finding his discarded clothes and hastily throwing them back on.
She couldn't have gotten far. And he knew this place like the back of his hand … you didn't spend an unknown amount of years in a place — twice— without learning all the tricks. She'd be looking for the bridge, of course. She probably had it in her mind to traverse Neverland alone.
"Brilliant plan, lass," he muttered as he made his way in that direction. He didn't even want to start listing all the ways that particular plan could go pear-shaped. And that was before she even reached the Hollow. The pixies weren't like to talk to her, seeing as she didn't even speak the language. He wasn't even sure they'd speak to him, let alone a veritable stranger to these part.s.
"Swan!" he shouted, loudly, loud enough that if she was in the vicinity (and she was, he knew it), she would hear it. And she would know he was pissed.
Good. He was past caring whether or not he hurt her feelings. Seemed to him she could use it. It wasn't fair for him to be the only one arse over elbows here.
And he wasn't. He knew he wasn't, and that was the bloody bitch of it all. But instead of staying and facing up to … whatever it was, Emma chose to run away. Again, and again, and again, as if somehow, that would magically make things disappear.
Not this time.
"Think a-bloody-gain," he said, shaking his head and swinging up on a low-hanging branch of one of the pink-leaved trees that grew along the banks of the Sea of Stars. From here, he could see the top of her blonde head, and she was heading in the complete wrong direction.
Part of him just wanted to let her wander. Would serve her right, wouldn't it? After all, she'd left him hanging after …
He had a flash then, golden hair that smelled of lavender fanned out in the soft emerald grass, eyelids fluttering closed, soft whimpers of pleasure escaping those perfect pink lips. He hadn't thought it possible, for her to be more beautiful than she already was, but he'd been wrong. He could still feel the way she'd squeezed around him when he'd been inside her, and it made him ache.
No. He couldn't just let her wander.
He brought his fingers to his lips then, and let out a sharp whistle.
She whirled around, looking for the sound, alarm on her features. He smirked a bit, deftly crossing the branches, until he was in the tree directly in front of her.
She looked up, obviously hearing the rustle of the leaves. Her expression was guarded, but curious. "H-hello?" she said, and Killian rolled his eyes.
Oy, she wouldn't last a day on her own here.
He dropped to the ground in front of her, arms crossed, no longer smirking. Oh, he might not be about to let her wander about Neverland on her own, but it didn't mean she was forgiven. Not when he'd thought …
Bloody hell. He didn't know what he'd thought. But he was pretty sodding sure he wasn't the only one who had come to a startling revelation back there in the grass.
He'd be damned if he was just letting her go.
Her eyes widened a bit when he landed, and she backed up a half-step before stopping, straightening her spine, and giving him a defiant look.
He arched a brow at her. Apparently, neither one of them wanted to be the first one to speak here.
"Please tell me, love, that you're sleepwalking," he said, knowing better than to wait on her to speak. She'd just bloody take off again, stubborn bint.
She frowned, brow furrowing. "I … no, I was … "
He held up a hand. "Spare me," he said, and his biting tone surprised even him. "And while I'm all for another rousing round of Emma's Disappearing Act, I rather figured you might actually want to get home to your family in one piece." He gestured around them then. "Unless you'd care to wager that you know more about this place, and its many inherent dangers, than I do."
She bit her lip, looking down. Was that … shame he was seeing on her face? Was she going to spout off a list of regrets now?
Like hell.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snapped.
"Stop yelling at me!" she snapped back, her eyes shooting sparks at him now.
"Darling, I haven't even begun to yell," he said, gritting his teeth. "Not that you wouldn't bloody well deserve it if I did!"
"Excuse me?"
He laughed bitterly. "Oh, don't give me that," he said. "I know you like to bury your head in the ground any time things get a little bit too intense for you to deal with, but it's too late for that now, love."
She waved her hand in a gesture that he was sure was meant to be dismissive, but he could see the way her chest was heaving, the slight tremble in her lower lip. "Just because we had sex … "
She might just as well have slapped him across the face. For all his bravado, there was no way he could keep the hurt from showing in his eyes at those words. He caught her wrist with his hand then, causing her to finally look up at him. "Is that what you think happened?" he asked her, his tone low and even.
She shook her head, looking down again, and he could see the flash of misery in her eyes. He felt his heart clench at the sight, his anger giving way to fear then.
"Emma, if I overstepped, if I pushed too hard, then I'm sorry," he said, and he was earnest with his words then. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. "I only thought … "
She shook her head. "No, Killian, it wasn't you," she said softly, looking back at him. Her eyes looked glassy, and he realized she was fighting back tears. "I'm not sorry about … about any of it," she whispered. Her shoulders slumped. "That's why I left."
"Come again?" he asked, confused now.
"Because I wasn't sorry," she said, as though it explained everything. "Because I'm used to waking up and feeling regret."
His brow furrowed. "You were planning on regretting me?"
"I thought I was," she said, sighing. "I just don't understand what's going on here, Killian."
He wanted to ask her, do you love me? but he found that he was desperately afraid of what her answer might be. He'd waited three hundred years for a chance to exact his revenge on his Crocodile, and in one second, he'd given it up.
For Emma.
"Emma," he said, though he didn't really have anything else planned to say. He just needed her to lookat him.
She did, and he could see a veritable tempest of emotions in those eyes of hers. She swiped the back of her hand over her cheek, and that's when he noticed the tears sparking on her cheeks. Slowly, he reached up with his hand.
"Don't cry, lass," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. He found himself transfixed by her eyes, which were locked on his now. "You know I won't let anything happen to you."
She frowned a bit then. "I don't need to be taken care of," she said, and he could feel her starting to pull away. His hook looped around her wrist, holding her in place.
"But you do," he said. "You don't have to be brave and strong all the time, Emma. It's all right to let someone else take over every once in awhile."
"I don't know how to do that," she said, shaking her head.
"It's very simple, love," he said, sliding his hand into her hair now, letting his fingers thread through the silken tresses. "Just relax, and let me take care of you. I'll get you through Neverland, I'll get you home, and we'll figure out the rest as we go."
"Why?" she asked. "I mean … after everything I've put you through … "
"Emma, shhh," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, afraid of what he might let slip if she kept pushing him.
The reason he was still here, the reason he hadn't turned and left her to her own devices, the reasons he'd jumped through the portal … it all came down to one thing.
He was madly in love with her.
And for as much as he wanted to tell her, he was afraid it would only make her run again. He didn't want her to run. It was going to be hard enough sending her back to Storybrooke without him, but he knew it was the way it had to be.
To love was to sacrifice. He'd heard the saying before, but he'd never truly understood it, not until now.
Honestly, he had never wanted to understand it. He'd lived his long life for himself, selfishly moving from one port of call to the next. He was always looking for the next thrill, or a new way to exact his revenge on his Crocodile. But at the end of it all, he'd found her, and gods help him, he was prepared to die for her if he had to.
It should be scarier, this realization. But standing here, feeling her lips pressed against his, it somehow seemed like the easiest decision in the world.
"We'll figure it out together?" she asked him then, her voice quiet as she pulled back from the kiss.
"We will," he said, raising her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles. "First thing is getting you back to your lad, though."
She managed a smile then. "How long do you think it will take?" she asked.
"There's no way to know here," he said. "But I'd imagine … in your world, it'll be … a few weeks."
She frowned. "That's a long time," she said softly.
His heart seized a bit, wondering how she'd react to the news that he'd …
No. Now was not the time to tell her. She was going to be so angry with him when she found out … but that was the plan. If she was pissed off, it'd be easier for her to move on. To forget him.
But right now, he had her, and he knew it was selfish, but there were some habits that were never going to die. He'd make the most of the time they had together, here in Neverland. For awhile, at least, he could pretend like it was going to last. That he and Emma were truly written in the stars, like her parents were.
It was all a lie. But it was such a beautiful one that he could almost, almost convince himself it was real.
He only hoped that in time — when the pain of it had finally worn off — Emma would understand why.
"They'll be worried about you, no doubt," he said, nodding then. "But they'll just be happy to have you back."
"Happy to have us back, you mean," Emma corrected, smiling at him.
"I doubt anyone in Storybrooke is missing me overmuch," he said, managing a weak smile of his own.
"Henry is, I bet," she said. "He likes you a lot."
"And that doesn't worry you?" he asked her, giving a short chuckle and doing his best to keep his tone light, not wanting to betray the pain he felt now.
Her eyes narrowed then. "You're not telling me something," she said, but this time, she didn't pull back from him. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward. "But if you tell me it's nothing, I'm going to believe you." She brushed her lips over his, her arms going around his neck.
"And why is that, love?" he asked, his arms going around her waist, and pulling her closer, wanting to forget everything but this moment for the time being.
She leaned forward, letting her lips brush over his ear as she whispered. "I'm trying something new," she breathed. "It's called trust."
He closed his eyes, shivering at her words. He turned his head, catching her lips with his own then, kissing her with the desperation of a dying man.
She moaned, parting her lips for him, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his. He felt her hands fist in his hair and his arms tightened around her waist.
"Don't run away from me again, Emma," he gasped against her lips when they finally came up for air.
She shook her head, her eyes on his, wide and expectant and searching. "Never, never, never," she whispered, kissing him again, and again, and again, as they once again found themselves falling to the ground in a tangle.
Clothes were discarded with nary a care for where they ended up, and she had him pressed against the soft grass before he could even think to protest (not that he would). She rose above him, looking for all the world like some sort of goddess that he shouldn't be allowed to even gaze upon, let alone touch.
The stars that hung low to the earth here caught in her hair as she rode him, her fingers pressing against his chest as she rocked her hips against his. He was unable to take his eyes off of her, in awe of everything she did, everything she was. His hand slid around between them, one finger slowly circling her most sensitive of spots.
She gasped and he smirked, and she started moving her hips faster. He moaned, and she sighed, and their mingled sounds of pleasure became the only noises that mattered in all of existence.
"Killian!" she cried out then, her sweet mouth falling open, her head falling back as the waves of pleasure hit her. Her inner walls pulsed around him, and he pulled her down to him, kissing her as he felt himself topple over the edge with her.
"Emma," he breathed, his lips still on hers. "Emma, Emma."
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him, before she collapsed against him, panting heavily. "Amazing," she said breathily, and he chuckled a bit.
"You're not so bad yourself, love," he said lightly.
She pinched him lightly on the side, and he let out a small yelp. She laughed, then looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, and he could see how much she meant it when their eyes met.
"Just don't do it again," he said, his hand going around the back of her head and pulling her in closer. He just barely brushed his lips over hers, then kissed the tip of her nose.
She smiled then. "Killian … " Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Let's just rest. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."
"Even if you're not, I'll just chase you down again, darling," he said with a smirk. "I told you before, I love a challenge."
She rolled her eyes, but he could see something flicker in their depths. "Thank you," she said softly, before resting her head on his chest.
He felt her breathing even out long before he started to feel tired himself. His hand still rested on the back of her head, and he absently let her hair slip through his fingers. He looked up at the starry expanse of the heavens above, and closed his eyes, listening for the sound of the star song. He hadn't heard it in so long.
Tonight, it seemed to be singing maybe, maybe, maybe …
Maybe was no promise, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.
Maybe they were meant to be. It certainly felt that way right now. And maybe the fairies would surprise him, and maybe he'd find his way back with her, after all.
Maybe, maybe, maybe …