Chapter four !

This chapter was a HELL of a lot of fun to write. And, it's pretty instrumental to the rest of the story.

I appreciate the comments and the likes and follows! You all make a new girl feel right at home! I think I might just continue writing fiction about the dear ol captain of the Jolly Roger and his Swan Lady… I Ship 'em hard, you may have noticed, lol.

Enjoy!

"Are you out of your mind?" Mary Margaret whined while Emma stood before the mirror, comparing one dress next to the other. "I don't wanna rain on your parade, Emma, but Regina's got eyes all over town! She's made your life miserable so far, what do you think she'll do if she finds out you're some sort of… groupie?"

"I'm not a groupie…" Emma sighed. "Just a girl going on a date with a guy who HAPPENS to be a rock star."

"Yeah!" her roomie nodded with a wide-eyed smiled. "That's usually the definition of 'groupie'."

Emma rolled her eyes to her friend. She knew that Mary Margaret had some sort of point there; but she had lived through enough crap in her life to learn that the best way to allow a bully to get away with his or her plans was… well, to let them get away with their plans. Refusing to go out on a Friday night after such a kind invitation was just not right. Ok, given, the date was not the everyday, guy-in-a-suit kind of date and was a rather unconventional kind of guy. And he drank a lot. And she had found a joint in his wallet. And he wore makeup. Had loads of girl fans… And probably had tattoos even where the sun didn't shine… But he had a certain something that she could not quite pinpoint: Almost like a connection of sorts. In a single minute he had figured out the entire reason she had left Boston for a small town like Storybrooke.

"It's just a rock n' roll show, Mary Margaret. I've been to plenty before." She smiled. "Now which dress do you think he'll like better? Black or red?"

"Ugh!" mary Margaret raised both hands and turned in her axis before looking back at emma. "Are you even listening to yourself, Emma? Which dress 'he' will like better? Come on!"

"Ok, look!" Emma turned sharply. "I know you mean well and I know you have this whole… mumsy, motherly, pre-school teacher thing nailed to a tee, and I appreciate the whole thing about you letting me crash at you pad when Regina sent the wolves out on me, but seriously, You're over-reacting!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! I don't think going out with a guy on a Friday night is something that would stop the clocks around the world, for god's sake!" She huffed. "Now I don't know about you, Mary Margaret, but it's been a year since I… well, since…"

The pixie-haired beauty shook her head and pulled a stool from under the kitchen counter, sitting down to look at her friend. "There are more important things than… well, sex, Emma." She looked positively self-assured. "Like Henry. You do know that Regina has a thing against that particular guy…. Why are you testing the water when you know it's boiling hot?"

Emma smiled and turned back to trying out the dresses. "Well, it's not like I'm eloping with the guy!"

Mary Margaret sighed and bit her lower lip. "I do admit he is a bit of a dish…" she grinned. "I just don't think I'd be capable of just… fishing out a rock star and…" she scratched the back of her head. "…getting laid."

Emma turned completely to Mary Margaret. "And why are you so sure I'm getting laid tonight? I am not stupid enough to go to his place, wherever that is, I certainly can't bring him home and god knows the only hotel here is Granny's B&B which, by the way, I was shunned from by Regina's strings, so, honestly? I find it difficult that that would actually happen."

"He's a rocker; He's got a rehearsal room, for sure…"

"Look, I really don't think it'll go that far. I'm aware that Regina's got her eyes on me but I'm sure that going out to a show during a weekend night isn't against any law. And as long as I don't start using drugs, I'm pretty sure I'll be ok." She held both dresses up. "Now, again: Red or black?"

Mary Margaret looked at both dresses and sighed. "Red."

"I thought so…" Emma smiled as she removed her t-shirt and slipped into the red outfit. "Ok. Not too slutty, not too office-girly…"

"I still think you're out of your mind…" Mary Margaret sighed as she stood up and walked upstairs to her bed. "I really hope you don't regret this, Emma."

"He's not such a bad guy. You of all people should know there's always something good in everyone."

"Maybe." Her friend stopped and grinned. "I just pray that he shows that before Regina gets the drift and you never see Hen…"

The knocking on the door interrupted her line and Emma made a beeline to the door. She opened it and found a tall, dashing blonde figure with a somewhat sheepish demeanor. "Hi! Emma!" he eyed her up and down. "Well… you look… amazing!"

Mary Margaret flew back down the stairs at the sound of his voice.

"Thanks David." Emma grinned. From the corner of her eye she could see Mary Margaret shaking her hands adamantly and mimicking a "no" with her lips. "Can I help you?"

"Well…" He shrugged. "I was wondering if Mary Margaret's home…"

"Sure!" Emma smiled and stood aside as Mary Margaret stared daggers through huge round eyes and an open mouth. "Come on in!"

She stepped to the kitchen as David looked at the pretty young brunette, who closed her pink jackie'o sweater tight around her chest and flushed. "Hi… David…"

"Hi…" He smiled, equally flushed.

Emma grinned and rolled her eyes as she reached out for her purse. "Oh well, I'm outta here." She said. "Nice to see you David…" She then approached Mary Margaret's ear and whispered. "Leave a post-it on the door if you decide to do the deed…"

And she giggled her mischievous way down the stairs, leaving a flustered Mary Margaret indoors with the crush of her life. Nice move!

She walked, her high heels making her an inch taller, and she looked for the keys to her bug in her tiny purse. She was interrupted by the sound of a loud engine behind her. She turned to find a headlicght coming closer until it stopped a few yards away. The man climbed off the Harley and walked to her, removing his helmet. "Well, well Swan, aren't you a sight for sore eyes…"

She still didn't quite know what the hell this guy had that kept making her weak at the knees; it wasn't like this was the very first good looker she'd ever met. But something about him got her right in the gut.

She settled for thinking that this evening would be like a field trip to try and understand what exactly Devlin Kragen was made of that rattled the very core of her feels. All for the sake of science. Yeah. Right.

She grinned and walked to him. "What are you doing here?" She grinned. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready to rock?"

"I am." He nodded with a complacent grin. "But 'should', doesn't always match with 'want', darling."

She frowned. "You're not playing tonight, then?"

"I am. And I will debut that song for you… but…" he held his hand out. "…just for you."

Emma felt an unavoidably powerful smile overtake her lips like they had a life of their own. "What will your band think?"

He huffed and shuffled his foot on the floor. "They know I won't show up." He looked back up to her. "I will explain it all to you, Swan, if you give me the chance to. But not at the Rabbit Hole… not under Gold's watch…"

There was something that spoke of true anger in the way he mentioned Mr. Gold's name. Emma had always been pretty good at telling when a person meant well or not; when there were lies behind the words or when honesty was the playing card. And angry and glammed as his makeup-clad eyes may have been, he was on the level.

"So, where exactly are you taking me?" she grinned as she grabbed his hand and followed him to his motorbike.

"The woods." He huffed. "Don't toil, Swan, I won't abuse your virtues or anything like that." He turned to her with a wink as he reached into his black leather saddlebag for a smaller helmet, handing it to her. "…unless you ask me to."

She chuckled. "Keep your hands to yourself."

"I thought you'd say that." He smiled, as he removed his biker jacket and placed it around her shoulders. "You might want to put that on, Swan, it gets bloody cold when riding."

She noticed he was wearing his shirt open, displaying a fair amount of body hair and some pendants hanging from a chain. "Won't you be cold?"

He saddled himself on his bike and strapped his helmet under his chin. "What, a cold-hearted Pirate like Captain Hook? I'm already cold, love! Go on, hop on!" She grinned, sighed and took her seat behind him, holding on to his waistline. She had expected a crude remark about that; instead, she just got a somewhat happy smile as he turned his key and moved out of the street.

It was a strange task, riding through a cold place like Storybrooke in a red dress and high heels, but she somehow managed to keep warm. She herself couldn't figure out what the insanity was about: Only a couple of weeks back she had busted his ass for drunkenness and disturbing of the peace. He was really the epitome of a loudmouth hobo and like most rock stars had probably had more sex in one week than she'd had in her entire life. All the same, there was something that bridged her to him, a feeling of knowing what to expect… uncanny, inexplicable trust.

They rode through the woods and into the old cabin just off Toll bridge. The place, she knew, was owned by Granny and Ruby, so she was a bit surprised, but when Devlin explained to her that he had exchanged a kiss for the use of the place and that Ruby would manage to keep her old guard dog Granny busy, she figured it would be safe enough. It was, besides, far better than being seen roaming around a bar with a notorious Rocker. At least this way they were away from prying eyes.

He led the way indoors and she was pleasantly surprised to find that he already had a pleasant fire going. A welcome warmth, compared to the chill they had gained on the ride there. The second thing she saw was that he had placed a few cushions on the floor before the fireplace, with scattered boxes of foods and candies… and a single red rose. For a man with as little finesse as Devlin Kragen, she was impressed. "Wow… you really did want to… get away."

He grinned as he closed the door behind them. "I told you I was a gentleman, alas, you refused to believe me…"

Emma closed her eyes. "You licked my ear…"

He huffed and shook his head with a chuckle. "And, you will never allow me to forget that, will you?"

"You were so drunk I thought you had forgotten already."

He studied her face and nodded. "Point taken, love. You caught me on a bad night, love. I can unfortunately allow my inner demons out when I'm shitfaced." He reached over into a drawer and produced a small box. "Therefore, I'd like to initiate this cultural evening with a standard present and an apology for the lady…" He handed her the box.

Emma grinned and took it. It was a tiny little music box with a little ballerina that spun in it. It played the Swan Lake and the Ballerina was dressed as the Swan Princess. She smiled and touched it. "You're just full or surprises, aren't you?"

He blinked expectantly and when she looked into his eyes, she was surprised to find them wide open and expectant. "You like it, then?"

"Are you kidding? I love it!" She laughed. "You spared no detail."

He sighed and nodded. "Only the best, Sheriff. I have to clean my rap sheet."

She laughed aloud and shocked herself by suddenly reaching out and hugging him, hard. "Thank you."

"Oh, about bloody time…" He smiled and hugged her back.

They hugged for a few seconds before she awkwardly pulled away and made her way to the nicely set up fireplace dinner. "And just what do you have in here, aside from chocolates and flowers?"

He nodded and first walked to a corner, where he took a large guitar case, and then joined her, sitting down with a huff. "There's sandwiches in that one love, and chocolates… There's also wine, but I don't think it's a good idea…" He opened his guitar case and produced a beautifully carved acoustic guitar.

He began to fiddle with it as he tuned it, and Emma looked on: he had beautiful hands, clad with thick, bulky rings.

"So… what is there that you have to explain to me that you couldn't do your show?"

He stopped cold and shot his bluer-than-blue eyes up at her, bit his lower lip and put his guitar down with a sigh. "I wish I didn't have to…" he spoke under his breath. "Listen love… Mr. Gold and I, we don't have a good story together." He swallowed. "When you asked about that name, on the tattoo, and I answered that it was just something I got in a drunken binge… I was not being honest with you…." He closed his eyes and then shot them up at Emma. "Milah was my love. A woman I cherished above all other things. But she was… also Mr. Gold's wife."

"What?" Emma frowned.

"Please, wait!" He begged, his eyebrows a sudden inverted v. "I beg of you, her me out and then decide whether or not you wish to see me again…" He drew breath and continued. "He was not good to her, she feared him greatly… she wanted to be loved. It just happened. For two years… she left him, we lived together. She asked for a divorce, but he would not let up. He's the most powerful man in town, maybe more than the Mayor. One day, she became ill. I took her to the hospital and… she had a problem in her heart." He licked his lips repeatedly. "Dr. Whale himself carried out all the studies she needed. But the lads and I, we had nothing yet with the band and I was working as a caretaker at the docks, just cleaning the decks of the ships…" It was easy for Emma to tell he was fighting very hard not to allow any tears to even come out and make his eyes shine. "She was there for three weeks; the bills piled up and up and… I didn't have a pot to piss in; I could not afford her hospital fees. When Whale finally told me she needed an urgent operation to survive, I went to Gold. I knew it was a long shot; The Mayor would have never even given me the time of day and I know no other person that would pawn my belongings… I gave him my motorbike, all my guitars, all I had." He frowned. "He was mean, as mean as one could get. He gave me the money, told me to keep my belongings… but gave me only enough to pay for the bills and not the operation. I begged, I really did, but he refused." He huffed. "He would have rather seen her die than to be happy at my side." He sighed deep and sat up. "They let her out. Whale told me she'd only live for a few days more. So we stayed in our boat, spent every living breathing second together till…" he closed his eyes. "…she died. She went, she drew her final breath in my arms, told me she loved me, and passed away." He remained silent for a few seconds and Emma didn't know whether to say I'm sorry or to give him enough time to continue his story. "Gold hasn't forgotten. A debt is a debt, Emma, and I will always honor it, so I returned to him after her wake, offered to work for him or anything to pay him back, even if he had refused to save her life." His hands closed into fists. "He only paid for her bills to trap me in debt. He made the band what it is: found us gigs, a local record deal, made us what we are…" He looked into her eyes and Emma could see the tears had finally made their way into those large, blue pools his eyes were. "The shows make fortunes, love… he takes 80% of it. 17% goes to the lads and the pathetic remainder is pretty much my pocket money. I'm not going anywhere any time soon, unless I just walk the fuck out… And he will find me." He heaved. "He was the one to make the club gig tonight, Emma, he was the one who sent you the flowers, not I… because he… asked me to keep an eye on you. He wants me to be his spy." He shook his head. "This was a big gig. I spoke to the lads that I wouldn't show up, make the bastard look like a proper turd tonight… I won't be his pawn."

It was a lot to take in; Emma had a strong set of principles against dating married people, but the way Kragen had put it it seemed like a star-crossed lover story that had had a very sour ending, and that had led a rebellious albeit good guy down a spiraling boozing path. Sure, he had talent, looks and quite the personality, but it seemed to her then that Devlin was far more sensitive and vulnerable than he appeared. Besides, Gold, she knew, could be a pretty tough knot.

But that was not what intrigued her at that moment.

"Wait… keep an eye on me?" she sneered. "Why, what the hell for?"

"Gods know…" He huffed, pressing his lips together. "I reckon it's because you're at odds with Regina… Those two have a feud that spells longer than the Gettysburg address."

"Well, I'm not taking any sides on this!" She shrugged. "My fight is for my son!"

He smiled at her. "I take it you'll want to stay the hell away from me now, eh?" He chuckled. "Just as well."

Something in her gut told her that, however odd it might have seemed, the last thing she needed to do was push Devlin away. He was a key player in a battle that no longer seemed to concern the idea of her just being out with the wrong person; quite the opposite: Devlin and Emma were being used in a war that even they had no clue about.

She sighed and shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere." She popped a chocolate into her mouth. "Seriously, they wanna play rough? I grew up an orphan, believe me, I can handle rough. Henry's MY son, nothing can or will change that."

Devlin breathed with relief. "So… you're not going to storm off into the woodland and imperil me by making me run after you?"

"You kidding? It's cold outside." She shrugged. She looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry about your girl. I guess sometimes love has a way of showing up in the oddest places."

He nodded. "That it does, love." He grinned. "I am grateful… I've not spoken of this to anyone other than the lads…ever."

"Glad I could help. Now it would be a great thing to figure out what the hell Gold's got up his sleeve with me."

He cackled. "Now THAT…" He opened up a beer and gave it to her. "I could do… Gladly." Opened another for himself and propped it forward. "To a fruitful partnership, Swan; may we defeat our foe and avenge our dearly departed with grievous satisfaction…"

Clink.

"Ok, whatever…" Emma smiled awkwardly before taking a drink. "So, shall we eat, play dominoes, what?"

He placed his beer down and nodded before he picked up his guitar. "I wasn't joshing when I said I'd written you a song, love…"

Emma smiled. "Ok, sounds like a plan. Let me hear it…"

He nodded and cleared his throat, fiddled around a little bit and started to play… slow, melodious, beautiful notes, of a song so slow and beautiful, Emma was swept away immediately by the perfection of the music stemming from his fingers.

He sang.

Who are you, lady, swimming on the mirrored lake?

What have you done to my evening's sleep and my morning's wake?

So bright a light in yonder darkness glows for me.

Only for me.

Why do you, lady, dwell within my restless thought?

With princely beauty you've taken hold of my freedom harshly fought.

So fair a lady in yonder darkness, shining free.

Only for me.

You have taken from me my shadowed torment sad,

And turned to beauty all the sadness that I had.

A pirate and a dweller of the darkest, darkest seas,

I've found the guiding star that delivered me to peace.

So bad a wretched figure of a man at war with love

Has seen the whitest bird as it circles far above…

And you, my guiding swan, my whited dove that lights my life,

Are far away from my touch… but always within my mind.

By the time he was done, Emma had all but forgotten to breathe.

"Well?" He held his breath. "You like it?"

Emma shook her head and finally drew breath. She could barely mumble. "You… did this? You wrote that? For me?"

He looked at her, not quite knowing what to make of her astonishment, but instinct told him it was good. He smiled and nodded. "Aye… You make a fine muse."

"I… don't know what to say…"

"Well, thank you would be a good start. Perhaps some gratitude is in order now. " He laughed. "Go on… have another drink."

Suddenly, Emma's lips spoke of their own account. "I really want to kiss you right now…"

Devlin rolled his eyes up at her. "Come again?"

"You heard me."

He bit his lower lip and grinned. "Love, right now, I think you couldn't handle it…"

She moved closer to him. "Maybe you're the one who couldn't handle it, but I'm still asking."

He smiled, stunned at her determination. He said nothing and simply slid one hand under her hair, pulling her neck to him, closing his eyes as their lips grazed, gently, curiously and feeling like velvet. With the sudden feeling of her fingers running through his hair, Devlin drew breath and released it through his nose, his kiss locked, melting into the begging shape of her lips as they molded into his own.

Something happened… something suddenly snapped; it was as if they both knew who they were, where they were from… and their kiss intensified, desire building up as their bodies suddenly lurched forward, fitting perfectly into one another, like an embrace created by an artist on a marble stone.

With a deep breath, she stopped the kiss. "We shouldn't…" she whispered, her eyes closed and her lips trembling as his forehead pressed against hers and his fingers gently grasped her neck from behind.

"Why?" He whispered back.

"Because… We don't know each other…"

He smiled. "Well, what finer way to start…" he licked his lips.

She held his face away for a few seconds. "Why do I feel like I know you?"

He furrowed his brow and his voice broke, excitedly. "I had thought the exact same thing."

She made no more of it. 'Trust your gut', had always been her motto. It would probably hurt to take a leap of faith… again. But what was life without faith? So she simply closed her eyes and melted away, first into his kisses, then into his hands as he gently pushed her back on the carpet, her head on one of the cushions…. And finally, into his body, all of it; they made love passionately by the fireplace, skin to skin.

And it felt right. She touched every corner of his tattooed arms and was somewhat stunned to find some uncanny scars on his back and chest, and he displayed a strangely awkward grimace when she ran her fingers down the hook tattoo on his left arm. They became one and finished in a climatic surge, something Emma herself knew didn't happen too often.

Who was he? How did he fit so perfectly into her life, when he was exactly the kind of man she would have run for the hills from in all practicality?

Afterwards, they held each other under a quilt by the fire, and she fell asleep as he caressed her golden tresses. He stared into the crackling fire in front of him and sighed with a deep smile that led to the first dreamless sleep he'd had since his Milah had died.

…..

After closing doors, the manager at the Rabbit Hole had warned Mr. Gold about his protégés never again being allowed to set foot in the club.

The lads shrugged it off. Rock n' Roll, they thought. Their friend and captain had a right to be.

But something began to happen to Gold as he calmly walked back to his shot and home that night… his eyes and skin began to shift. "You've played me for the last time, Killian jones…. NOBODY breaks a deal with me. Nobody…"