Hook and Emma + Scars
She wears her scars like badges of honor – painful reminders on never to trust, never to love, never to hope. She wears them in the shoe string around her wrist and the necklace around her throat. She wears them in the name she's chosen for herself – the remnants of a family that didn't want her, a scared little girl carelessly tossed aside.
She wears them in the way she moves – in the hunch of her shoulders and the frown on her lips. She wears them in her eyes – shielded and jumpy, never quite seeing, never quite believing. She is cynical and scared, but everyone focuses on the first – and soon she hardens herself to anger instead of fear.
(His words are gentle and insistent – spoken slowly so she has time to read the truth in his eyes. He grins at her over the table and when his fingers slowly crawl over to hers, she doesn't resist.)
("Shall we bring Henry home some pie?")
(He says home like he means it – like he's going to stay.)
(His heart beats a steady staccato under her fingers when he presses her palm flat against his chest and she learns to believe.)
His scars are much more visible – scattered across his body in fine and thick lines. There is an ugly one over his chest, merging with the tattoo over his heart – an attempt to burn away his old self, the memory of a lost brother. There are a myriad of thin long ones across his back – the price of a kingdom betrayed, taken out in severe lashes. The scars that wrap his wrist are ugly and jagged as is the hook that covers it. He sometimes sits alone and traces the rough skin with his fingertips – eyes hardening, chest seizing.
He becomes Hook – over and over and over.
(She soothes her fingers over each and every mark, her lips warm and gentle as she chases the pain away. Warm fingers tangle in her hair and he breathes out – his lips finding the crown of her head as her smile burns into his skin.)
("Killian." She whispers and the whimper lodges in his throat.)