AN: Thanks everyone who reviewed or followed this story, I hope you like this chapter.
Chapter Two
Closing the door to his cabin firmly behind him, Killian went immediately to the cupboard beside his bed and pulled an open bottle of rum from the shelf. Most of it was stored in the hold, but he'd long ago started keeping some aside so that his crew wouldn't get their hands on it and waste his finest. Grabbing a tin cup from that same shelf, he strode over to his desk and sat behind it, filing his cup and downing it in one go before pouring another. Taking another mouthful, he leaned back in his chair and tried to let the familiarity of the situation - the room, the rum, the slouch - relax him.
Eyeing the bottle warily, he wondered how much of it he'd have to go through before it actually started to work.
He was a fool. There was no other explanation. He had understood Emma's desperate need to find her son, and so when he had felt such a strong connection with her he had held back, waiting for a better time, thinking that she was doing the same. Their constant close proximity and the frustration of the search had led them into each other's arms a few times; normally arguments about the best course of action turning into heated kisses. And the last few times...
Closing his eyes, Killian let himself remember the feel of her soft skin under his lips, his hand on her wherever he could reach. The sweet smell of her, the way her hot mouth felt on his skin. The sound of her moans as she writhed under his touch, and the look on her face as he made her come undone. The memories were torture but he drank them in, needing to be sure that every moment was imprinted in his mind.
He should be trying to forget her, but he was a sucker for misery, it seemed.
Despite his best efforts, newer images slowly began to replace the ones he preferred. Downing another drink, he tried to chase them away, but to no avail. Baelfire running towards Emma, stumbling a little in the sand in his haste to get to her. Their arms around each other, him lifting her and spinning her off her feet. The way they had kissed, like there was no one else in the world but the two of them, until Henry caught up to them and they had hugged each other close, a perfect little family, something that he could never be a part of.
He was a damned fool, all right.
The small rowboat had been too small to fit all of them, so David had rowed Emma, Neal and Henry to the Jolly Roger before returning for himself and Mulan. The warrior had looked him up and down once before apparently coming to the conclusion that he wasn't up for cheerful discussions of reunion, and had kept quiet until David had returned. Killian had introduced them quickly as they made their way to the ship.
Mulan looked at his cautiously, speaking to him for the first time after a few minutes of rowing. 'So you're on the good side now?'
'It appears so,' he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
Cocking her head, she studied her warily. 'For how long?'
He opened his mouth to retort angrily - he was sure in the mood to pick a fight - but David spoke first. 'We've learned to trust him, Mulan. It's because of him that we were able to save Henry.'
Although she hadn't said anything on the topic since then, Mulan had kept her distance once they had reached the ship. Which suited him just fine. As everyone else had spoken over each other, trying to find out what had happened since they'd been separated in Storybrooke, he'd pulled the anchor and made preparations to get them a little way out to sea before night fell. He didn't have it in him to sail through the night, but he wouldn't leave them anchored so close to shore. Although his ship needed a hand at the helm to steer, he could man it on his own - the benefit of an enchanted ship - so he didn't ask for help as he got them underway. David had sent him a look enquiring if he needed assistance, but he'd shaken his head, preferring the solitude. The recently reunited family didn't seem to notice. Baelfire, Emma and Henry sat close together, father and son talking almost nonstop, Baelfire looking constantly between Emma and their son. Emma herself was quiet, staring at the hand that Baelfire held tightly in his own. Rumplestiltskin had stood behind the trio, his hand gripping his sons shoulder.
As soon as they'd been a safe distance from shore, Killian had dropped the anchor and headed below deck. Everyone else seemed to be having a merry old time. They'd opened a few bottles of rum, grumbling that it was the only liquor on the ship but drinking it all the while, the whole group celebrating. Even Regina joined in, under the condition that everyone knew that she was only joining them to celebrate Henry's rescue.
A few hours ago he would have been happy to join them, ready to celebrate Henry's return just as much as any of the others. And he had to admit that a big part of him was happy for Baelfire to be alive, the poor boy who he had known all those years ago. But a big part of him wished that he had died when they all thought he had.
Unable to tell which part was bigger and feeling like scum because of it, Killian went to take another drink and realised his cup was empty again. Tossing it aside, he took the bottle and drank straight from it, big mouthfuls that burned his throat on the way down. He'd have to get another in a few minutes.
Before he could stand, there was a tentative knock on his cabin door. He was about to yell at whoever it was to leave him in peace when the door opened and Baelfire himself poked his head through the opening. 'Do you have a minute?'
I'm not drunk enough for this yet, he thought, waving his hand to bid him enter. Pushing himself to his feet, he took another bottle and held it out for Baelfire to see. 'Drink?'
Baelfire slowly walked into the room, looking around quickly. 'Ah, sure.'
Taking two fresh cups from the cupboard, he tried to keep his face guarded as he made his way back to his desk, dropping them on the table. He grabbed a spare chair from against the wall and put it down on the other side of his desk. Baelfire sat as Killian did the same, pouring some rum into one of the cups and pushing it in front of the other man. He half filled his own cup and took it in hand before reconsidering and filling it the rest of the way.
Neither of them spoke. Baelfire was staring into his cup so Killian took the opportunity to study him, feeling curious about the boy who he had known several lifetimes ago. He looked tired, worn down. Rumplestiltskin's son... Milah's son. He pushed away the pain of her memory, knowing that if he dwelled on that for too long he'd lose his temper.
'How long ago did you get out?' he said, breaking the silence and trying to distract himself from his own thoughts.
Baelfire didn't need to ask him what he meant. 'Almost twenty years ago.' He pressed his eyes closed as if chasing away his own memories, and downed his drink. 'And you?'
Killian downed his own and had to blink a few times before he could focus to refill both their cups. 'Almost thirty, but I was frozen in the Enchanted Forest for the last twenty eight by Regina's curse.' He paused, then set the bottle down heavily. 'Bloody hell. My own stepchild is older than me,' he exclaimed without thinking.
The look on Baelfire's face made him immediately regret his words. Maybe the drink had affected him a little more than he thought. Baelfire coughed harshly, choking on his own drink, before staring at Killian with wide eyes. 'You were married?'
This is not where he'd wanted the conversation to go, but he knew it was own fault for bringing it up, albeit unintentionally. 'No, we weren't. But we were in love. I don't know if you remember the last time we met, but I told you that we were going to come back for you and I meant it. I know you were angry when you found out that I was the man who took her from you, but I sorely regretted letting you leave.' He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair, feeling extremely uncomfortable. 'There is not enough rum in the world for this conversation,' he muttered.
He found himself unable to meet the other man's eyes. What a mess. Neither of them spoke for a little while, then Baelfire shifted in his chair.
'I don't blame you anymore.'
Killian looked up at him reluctantly, and saw that same hesitancy in the other man's eyes. He had a feeling that being this open with someone who was now a near stranger was just as foreign to him as it was to the pirate.
'For taking my mother,' Baelfire continued. 'I've had a bit of time to think about it all,' he said wryly, 'and I know that if it was anyone's fault, it was hers. You didn't make her leave me, you just gave her the opportunity. You were the reason, but it was her decision.'
For a moment, he let himself submit to the memory. 'I wasn't the only reason,' he told the man before him, picturing instead the young boy who he'd found on his ship nearly three hundred years ago. 'Adventure was the reason. She didn't want the quiet life anymore. And she did want to share her new life with you, but when she left you were just too young to have any sort of life on a pirate ship...'
'I know.' Baelfire cleared his throat, hesitated, took a drink and poured another. Killian grew increasingly uncomfortable; as truthful as he'd just been about his regret and his love for the boy's mother, he couldn't quite comprehend that that same boy was now the man who had been all over Emma just a few hours ago. He'd known that he was Henry's father, but having an adult face to put on the child made that knowledge seem so much more... wrong. 'Um... I actually came down here to thank you.'
Killian raised his eyebrow at him. 'Excuse me?'
'For saving Henry.' Baelfire leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on the desk between them. 'I know it was mostly your doing. I didn't have very long with him but he's a pretty remarkable kid.'
Despite himself, he felt a smile tug at his lips as he remembered the never ending excitement that was bottled within the lad. 'Aye, he is,' he said softly.
'And also for helping Emma,' he continued. 'Henry told me that you saved her life a few times while you were here.'
Killian stiffened slightly at the mention of her name, then tried to hide it by attempting to pour another drink. His hand shook a little as he tilted the bottle - damn it, the drink was affecting him more than he thought. Good, he thought darkly. 'Neverland is a dangerous place, as you well know,' he said, voice surprisingly calm. 'We each did our own share of saving during our search.'
'Yeah, well.' Baelfire simply sat there for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. 'Thank you, anyway. You have no idea how much I appreciate being back with them and knowing they are safe.' He tipped his empty cup to him and set it on the desk. 'Cheers for the drink, Hook.'
'Do you love her?'
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Baelfire turned back to him slowly, a small frown marring his brow. Killian held his gaze almost defiantly, knowing he should probably be trying to appear amicable but unable to find it within himself.
'I do,' he said softly. 'I tried to forget her for a very long time, but life pushed us back together and I realised I could never get her out of my head. I'm a lucky man to get such a second chance.'
Feeling sick, Killian forced a smile, sure that it came out more like a grimace. 'Indeed,' he managed. Baelfire gave him one more long look before turning and exiting the cabin, closing the door softly behind him.
He managed to hold in his anger until he heard the footsteps disappear up to the deck, then grabbed the first empty bottle and threw it into the cold fireplace. He growled irately at the mess, quite mindful of the fact that it was his own fault but willing to let it stir his fury. This wasn't him. He hadn't let something get to him like this in a very long time. To be so worked up and - he begrudgingly admitted it to himself if not aloud - jealous over a woman was ridiculous.
Unfortunately, as he felt his mind wander back to her he felt his anger lessen and turn into gloominess. He really just wanted things to go back to how they were this afternoon. They'd spent a day in good companionship, quietly going about their gathering until it was time to leave. He'd wanted to say something to her but had decided against it, confident enough in their back and forth that he was willing to wait for her to make the next move. He'd always loved a woman's reaction to him and had known how to use it to get what he wanted, but had never been as thrilled with the chase as he was with Emma Swan. He had thought that he'd finally won, that she was about to finally give in to him when his hand had lifted her face to look at him and he'd seen the openness in her eyes.
He'd give anything to go back to that moment, and he hated that bitterly. He hated how quickly that connection had obviously disappeared from her thoughts, her arms around her old lover, returning his kiss.
He was not normally the one who was left forgotten.
Sighing heavily, he kicked a few stray shards of glass further into the fireplace and unlaced his boots, stripping down to his usual bed attire - nothing - before grabbing the half empty bottle and blowing out the lanterns lit around the room, taking the last one with his hook and heading over to his bed. Setting the lantern on the short table beside his bed, he pushed the covers back and slipped inside, leaning back and letting his head fall against the wall.
Closing his eyes, Killian brought the bottle of rum to his lips. He was going to drink until he passed out, and hoped fruitlessly that he wouldn't dream of her.
AN: Poor Killian.
This scene is part of the reason I started writing this fic. There was originally more to it but when I realised I wanted to write it longer I decided to save that bit for later :)
Let me know what you think :)
