Wow, I'm blown away by the response to this story! You guys are SO amazing!
I'm sorry the updates aren't quicker - And they probably won't be. I do have school, and I do sleep, and I have this way that I force myself into writing half-decent long stuff that really takes forever and a day. Long story short, updates will take about a week or a bit less - So, your best bet is every Wednesday/Thursday and Sunday? I dunno, I'm not making any promises.
I love you guys! This little story is just sort of setting up the foundations for their little life which will play a big part in this story! I'm not entirely sure about this one, actually, but yea. Just try it.
Emma Swan was having a nightmare. Now, don't get me wrong - She was one that often had nightmares. Her past had certainly put a bit of a downer onto her dreaming regime, and haunting flashes of images often panicked her into consciousness more nights than not. But this seemed different - It wasn't terrifying memories formed into twisted abstract versions of reality, generally about the more abusive foster parents. No, this was more about her drifting in space and fog, surrounded by a horrible sensation of hopelessness and loss. Confusion swarmed her consciousness, and the feeling that she had been left, torn away from her loved ones, was heart-wrenchingly strong.
All of a sudden, images began flashing from beneath her fluttering eyelids. Henry, as only a young boy of around about 10, smiling up at her from within the doorframe of an unfamiliar apartment block. A red dress with her golden locks, and a baffled look on her features. A shining metal hook perched atop the thick stump of an arm. A graceful swan, a blood red apple, a male around her age with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A tall brunette disappearing, only to be replaced by silver wolf. A sign, in which she could only make out the word ' Granny's '.
Emma gave a loud gasp as she was suddenly jolted awake, shaking faintly. The images had disappeared, and were quickly fading away from her consciousness. She began trying to grasp them back hoping to put the pieces of this strange cryptic puzzle together, but soon most of them had gone. But the sensation of loneliness and hopelessness was still lingering around, which baffled her beyond belief. Even in her times when she was shaking at a foster home, wishing she was in a better place, had she never felt it this strong. Almost as if she'd lost something, instead of wishing for something that she'd never had. Trying to grasp reality, she registered a strong hand-less arm curled around her stomach.
Slowly, Emma let her mind drift off, and soon it landed on the sad tale of how her Killian had lost his hand. He was in the Marines many years ago - Not anymore. Not after what happened - and had lost his hand to some sort of gunfire. She really didn't know the finer details of the story, considering Killian couldn't really say much of it without a few glasses of wine, then he began slurring to such amounts that the rest of the tale is just gambled strings of incoherent sentences.
She had narrowed it down that the hesitation to tell this story wasn't connected to the loss of his hand. No, it was the loss of his brother, his ' stubborn arse of an older brother '. He had apparently saved Killian from a more dead-like state, sacrificing himself for the sake of his younger brother, so that he'd just lost a hand and not his life. When Emma had first met Killian, he was a lot darker than the loving person he was now. A broken heart - And the two of them kindred spirits.
Emma liked to think that she was the one that had picked up the pieces, and she knew for a fact that Killian was ecstatic that he was the one that put her back together, made her whole again. He constantly said it, in those small moments when they bared their heart to each other, searching for - and always surprising her when she can't find - the sensation that she should perhaps not do this. That primal instinct that she needed to bolt, to escape from the horror show that was her current situation. Of course, it was still sort of there { some things cannot merely fade from existence, even with someone alike Killian } but notably weaker.
Killian gave a little grumble, as if something was waking him up, as if her gaze was something that could substitute for an alarm clock. But he was still in a deep slumber - when he was truly awake, he opened his eyes, as if alert for some form of danger. Marines stuff, she supposed -, and merely nuzzled his nose into the pillow. Emma had to fight with all her might to avoid swooning, but her lips still fell into a pout as she wondered on how he could look so goddamn adorable, and pull off a half-decent appearance with that messy bed-hair.
" Take a picture, lass - It'll last longer. " A low voice mumbled, and the blonde gave a jolt of surprise, focusing her gaze to see the bright blue optics of a single opened eyelid, the corner of his mouth curved up into a small smirk. Emma blushed faintly at being caught staring at him, but then reminded herself that alongside having been together for a good two and a half years, he didn't mind an ego stroking. So, really, she had free staring rights - But that still didn't mean she wanted to fluff his already over-sized ego.
Suddenly, the dark-haired male frowned. " Lass? Did you have a nightmare? Tell me about it. " He sat up, leaning on his good arm and shifting forward to watch her features. For a moment, she blinked, surprised he had guessed so accurately, and how he was so definite on his reading to say it so surely. She didn't think that she appeared agitated - Did she? Oh. Right. He had stated on numeral occasions that she was somewhat an open book to him - which sort of irritated her - and this was obviously one of those moments. Damn.
Emma took a deep, slightly shuddering breath in, then exhaled slowly. " Well, " She started slowly. " It was sort of like the normal nightmares - But it wasn't. " She snatched a glance at him, but he was merely nodding along. He had heard the tale of the nightmares that mainly haunted her sleeping hours several times, usually being the one to comfort her, so ' normal ' was an easily understood description between the two. " It felt like I was lonely, as always, but it was different. It was like I left something behind. Like I lost something that I can hardly live without. "
" Well, you're awake now, love. " Killian mumbled, kissing her shoulder, and she turned her head to look at him. For a moment, she frowned. There was something in his dark depths - Something alike... Recognition? She tilted her head, trying to figure it out, but it was gone as soon as it had come, replaced by the joy of his dazzling smile. " Well, lass, if my instincts are accurate, I daresay we have about half an hour before the alarm- "
He was broken off by an obnoxious beeping sound, and he hung his head, touching his forehead to her shoulder which was shaking with not-so-suppressed laughter. " I was proven wrong. " Killian growled, then flopped back down onto the mattress and snuggling in. " Turn that blasted thing off, will you darling? " He asked airily, as if he had every right to stay in for as long as he wished to.
" Oh no you don't. I need to get up and have my cocoa before I get cranky, and I am not getting up without you. " Emma hissed, pulling on his bicep half-heartedly, but the Irishman just gave a little whimper. " Mmf. Don't want to. " He grumbled, however his voice was slightly hesitant. It was a proven fact that she becomes a cyclone of a bad mood when she doesn't have her hot cocoa with cinnamon within an hour of waking. A smile struggled to grace her lips at the realisation that it would be simple to convince him with that thought planted in his mind.
" How about... If you get up, you'll get your pancakes with whipped cream and maple syrup. " She trailed off, because he's suddenly out of bed and pulling on a pair of shorts { she swore that if Henry wasn't here, he'd be walking around the apartment naked. Not that she would be complaining, of course. }, suddenly as chipper as a bluebird ready to sing its morning tune. He turned his mischievous gaze on Emma, smirking. " Lass! " He cried in mock exasperation. " Get up, will you? It's already - " He leaned back to check the time on the alarm. " Seven thirty! "
After a small roll of her eyes, the blonde gave a loud yawn and swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stretching, watching the Irishman out of the corner of her eye. He was acting like Henry, bouncing from one foot to the other, giving off little annoyed sounds. " I want my pancakes... " He grumbled sheepishly at her questioning look, so Emma just patted his arm as she passed him and walked out into the hallway. A millisecond later, she was bombarded by a small jumping figure, begging for pancakes. " What is with this family and pancakes? " She whispered to herself, shaking her head.
Five minutes later, Killian and Emma were doing the Dance of The Kitchen. A rather fluent dance it was - Practised many times, with several faults that were gradually smoothed over. The steps had needed to be perfected, depending on what theme it was danced to - pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs, stuffed mushrooms with cheese - but it generally went like this; Stove, pans, cupboards, fridge, spin, crack eggs, spin, kiss on the cheek, quip about the whisking, oven, stove, pouring, waiting, waiting, another quip about Emma's bedhair, and finally, for a grand finale; Food. An elegant waltz.
It was almost humorous how in-sync they were. It was exactly like that when they'd first met. That was pretty much the only thing they really remembered of that time. Funnily enough, none of them - including Henry - really know how they met, only that it was a tale of gradual love. It was as if they were suddenly in each other's lives, or as if someone just didn't have enough time to write that part of their story. And Emma didn't really question it, which was especially strange, considering her tendency to never leave anything unquestioned. Killian, on the other hand - Well, she just reckoned he was taking what he got from her. The lovesick bugger.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud " Well... " by Henry, in which she turned to with an already-annoyed expression. Being a mother, she knew exactly what was coming. " I have this massive headache that I woke up to, and... " He trailed off, seeing her unamused-but-sort-of-amused look, and thought over his excuses. " I heard that there was this kid in my school who's going to go on a spree of taking kid's lunch money... " The child tried, voice weak.
" Whatever your excuse, lad - It's a big N. O. " Killian rumbled over his shoulder as he scrubbed at a plate. " Going to school is important for your adulthood. You'll make more friends every day, find a possible career, and become a whole lot smarter. Like me. Use me as a role model. Me, the handsome, smart and wonderful Killian Jones. " The raven-haired adult smirked, and both his girlfriend and her son shot him a ' bitch please ' look.
" Alright, fine. " Henry huffed, dragging his bag melodramatically onto his shoulder and, with one fleeting glance to see if they would change their mind, disappeared behind the wall towards the door. After a moment of silence, listening to the door open, his voice floated in. It was soft, and tentative, and rather frightful. " Um, mum? K-Killian? Someone's at the door. " He whispered.
Both adults shared a rather alarmed look, and hurried over to the doorway, where Henry took a long step backwards into their line of defense. Almost in the frame of their door was a figure, their eyes trained on the small family. " Who the hell are you? " Killian hissed, squaring his shoulders, and Emma had to try with all her might not to swoon at that moment of protectiveness. Jesus Christ, she turned into a teenager with this man! " That doesn't matter. Emma, your family need you. You need to come with me. "
So? What do you think?
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea who is going to come and save them! If you have someone you'd like, send it in with a review or even PM me if you want to!
This is unbeta'd, by the way, so sorry if there were any typos or things that didn't make sense.