a/n: Thank you so much for all the reviews/follows/favorites. They seriously mean the world to me! I love hearing your thoughts and I'm thankful for every one of you that has decided to give my story a chance :) I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Emma trudges open her heavy eyelids and finds the world around her bleary and disorienting. It's too dark, and it takes her still sleep-muddled brain a few seconds to remember where she is.
She blinks and rubs at her eyes for a second to clear them, shifting her focus to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. The fire beside them is all but burnt out—smoky tendrils that snake up from blackened ashes the only indication that it had once been a source of heat. The mouth of the cave provides a frame for the world outside. A world which is still dripping from the after effects of last night's rainstorm and looks miserably cold compared to the warmth she's currently experiencing huddled up against Killian's side.
Emma's own body rises and falls with each gentle breath he takes and she's completely convinced that she would be content to spend the entire day lying here in his arms.
It's unusual for her to wake before him, and so taking advantage of this rare moment she tilts her head to look up at him. His countenance is relaxed—probably lost in the peacefulness of some dream—face softened with sleep and his tousled dark hair falling gently against his brow. Her fingers itch to trace his features, and after a few moments of self-denial she gives in and skims her forefinger along the light scar across his cheekbone, her touch faint and tentative.
He shifts beneath her, mumbling something unintelligible and tightening his arm around her as he exhales. Resting both her head and hand back onto his chest she closes her eyes and soaks in the feeling of his strong body beneath her and the tickle of his breath against her hairline. She doesn't quite fall back asleep, but she finds a peaceful lull in the rhythm of his breathing, and treasures the silence and the stillness of the morning.
It's not long before he begins to stir beneath her, and lifting her head again she watches with a slight smile as he begins to rouse himself from sleep. Taking a sudden deep breath through his nose he stretches out his stiff limbs, arching his back away from the unforgiving ground, and slowly blinks his eyes open.
Her smile grows as he stares at her through half open lids, still drifting in the haze between sleep and wakefulness. "Hi," she mutters, her soft whisper the only sound wafting through the damp air of the cavern.
He simply closes his eyes tighter in response. Mumbling something that sounds vaguely like "Let's keep sleeping, Swan" and tugs her even closer to his chest.
Emma laughs, a bright sound that she might normally keep in check, but she's feeling particularly light as she lies snuggled against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
In spite of his insistence to keep sleeping, he's opening his eyes again a few minutes later, turning on his side to give her a lazy smile.
"Sleep well?" she asks, still amused at the way he's still trying to shake the remnants of sleep.
"Quite well," he hums, his eyes tracing over her in such a way that makes her stomach swoop and her heart flutter.
"Good," she replies simply. Fighting the urge to brush his messy hair from his forehead.
He doesn't seem to have quite the same restraint though, as his fingers soon begin to trail light pathways up and down her spine. She shivers a little at his touch and almost rolls her eyes at the smirk he gives her when he notices.
As much as she would love to spend the entire day hiding away in this little cavern, they need to get going. They already lost quite a bit of time yesterday, having to stop in the middle of the day and backtrack once it started raining.
It's with reluctance that she sits up, almost immediately regretting the loss of his warmth, but afraid that if she doesn't she'll end up wasting the day away lying in his arms.
"Anxious to leave already, Swan?" he says, propping himself up on his elbows. It's apparent that he means his words to be light, but there is the tiniest hint of disappointment in his gaze.
It's not hard to understand his feelings. Yes, their relationship has taken a definite shift, and she could easily drag out the moment before they leave this cave, could easily spend hours exploring whatever this is—lying next to him, talking with him, and perhaps even kissing him, but they can't let any developing feelings distract them. Getting to the spaceliner and off the planet is still their top priority.
And lying back down to soak in his warmth and his touches in not conductive to getting to the spaceliner.
She might have to keep telling herself that.
"We're almost out of ration bars," she reasons, trying to convince herself as much as him, "and heaven knows we can't live off of nothing but berries."
"So we'll start setting snares," he shrugs, "and feast upon this planet's finest creatures."
"We still need to go."
He watches her for a moment, and Emma meets his gaze head on, not sure what he's thinking or what he's trying to figure out. Eventually he sighs, shaking his head slightly as he looks away from her. "As the lady wishes," he accedes, grunting as he pulls himself to standing, running a hand through his mussed locks in an effort to tame them.
Killian grows quiet after that, keeping to himself as he ties his shoes and chews on a bland ration bar.
"Swan?" he finally mutters, just as they're about to leave.
Emma turns to him, confused by the uncertainty in his voice.
"Listen…about yesterday, I don't want you to feel like anything has to change between us…I mean only if you want, but if you—"
Emma places a soft but thorough kiss against his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling. Somewhere in her eagerness to leave he must have assumed it was in order to avoid the tentative step they took in their relationship last night.
But she doesn't regret it, and that's the last thing she wants him to think. So she tries to pour all that she's feeling into this one kiss—tries to make him see that she is open to this, whatever this is. That she wants it, wants him.
It seems to do the trick though, as she's greeted with a ridiculous grin when she pulls away.
-CS-
They spend two more nights within the mountains. It's longer than Killian had anticipated, but after the rainstorm and the time they lost, he knew their time in the mountain would be extended.
Not that he's minded. Ever since they kissed Emma has been more open, and with each day that passes she becomes less restricted in the amount of affection she exhibits. And he loves this. Loves being able to run a thumb across her cheekbone because he wants to, loves learning more about her, more about her family and her home.
So yes, it's taken them a day longer to reach the spaceliner, but he can't bring himself to care.
It's still morning when they finally reach the base of the mountain, the landscape changing to softer hills veiled in swaying grass.
For a while their trip across this new terrain is pleasant. The open space makes it easy for Emma to walk beside him, her delicate fingers threading with his own, and walking on relatively level ground is a relief he didn't know he needed after spending days treading either up or downhill.
As the day wears on, the ease and comfort of being out of the mountain is soon overshadowed the closer they get to the spaceliner. The debris left by the crashing spaceliner is sparse at first, scattered pieces of metal a mere dusting across the hills. But soon enough what they're walking through is a graveyard of steel, and the tombstones range from small clumps of metal no bigger than his arm, to massive towers that twist and loom above them.
The Swan is a devastating sight, the grandeur and power the giant spaceliner once exuded is gone, crushed and burned like the pile of wreckage it now is. The front third of the ship looks like a knife has slit it open, the burned and blackened framework visible even from this distance. The nose of the ship is smashed, crushed from the force of its impact with the planet's surface. A long trail of churned up soil streamlines behind it, a visible display of where the spaceliner landed and skidded to a halt—the trench it left behind is large enough to house a small village.
Despite the magnitude of The Swan's destruction not all of it was destroyed on impact—the back half or more of the ship looks, for the most part, relatively intact. Though that section of the spaceliner is not quite as burnt or crushed as the front, the stability of the latter half still remains to be seen.
Killian squeezes Emma's hand, pulling her to a stop, but keeps his eyes fixated on the ruins in front of them. "We're going to have to be extra cautious. We don't know the intensity of the structural damage and one wrong step could be catastrophic—and we don't have the medical supplies necessary to deal with any serious injuries."
"Hey," Emma soothes, and the feel of her gentle hand against the side of his face pulls him from his dark thoughts. He turns to her as her fingertips skim down his neck and over his shoulder; her touch is warm, leaving trails of delicious fire in their wake. "We'll be careful. Everything will be fine."
"Aye. But let's stay alert."
She nods in response, giving his hand another squeeze before pulling him forward so they can continue on towards the ship.
"I say we keep to the lower maintenance and crew levels, that's where we'll find most of the technology and hopefully we'll be able to locate a communications system." Her tone is matter of fact, and it's like when she led him to the escape pod at the start of all this, her knowledge of the spaceliner impressive.
"You know the ship well, don't you?"
"Well, I have spent a lot of time on it. My parents thought it was safer, considering some things going on at home, but I'm guessing their not all too fond of it anymore."
"Oh?" he responds, lifting his eyebrow in question and hoping the open-endedness of his brief response will encourage her to elaborate on what she means by safer.
She doesn't however, either not understanding his query or choosing to ignore it she continues on about the structure of the ship. "I was hoping we'd have access to the communications center, which is at the bow of the ship. But—" her eyes scan over the wreck, and she doesn't have to continue. The bow, the very front of the spaceliner, is demolished, crushed on impact. "I'm sure we'll still find a communications system."
"I think it would be wise if we took the time to gather as many supplies as we can as well."
"Of course," she agrees, "that should all be within the lower levels as well, I don't think we'll have to venture up to any upper levels that's mostly living and entertainment space for the…uh…passengers." She says the last bit after swallowing thickly, her eyes downcast.
Killian runs soothing circles against the back of her hand in response, not sure what else to say. He knows how the image of death can haunt you, how it lingers with you far longer than invited. He's never experienced it on quite this scale, but he's experienced enough of it to know.
And it's not something he wishes for her to see.
He hopes, for her sake, that they can avoid the worst of it.
It turns out that finding a way inside the still intact portion of the spaceliner is harder than they thought. The parts of the hull that aren't torn open and scorched, or crushed completely, are sealed off. The metals melted together creating an alloy that blocks them from entering. This is a good thing he hopes—maybe it means that whatever is inside will still be intact.
Which doesn't even matter if they can't get inside.
They work their way along the outside of the hull, searching for a way to get in. Nothing but silence accompanies them as they push and prod the spaceliner, in hopes of finding a weak point. The silence is unnerving and Killian is struck by the fact that there really seems to be no other survivors.
He's not sure what he had been expecting, perhaps a small amount of people milling about the wreckage site, trying to survive just like they were. And maybe there were survivors and they've simply left—took what they needed and abandoned The Swan. But from what he's seen, there's no one, the spaceliner is a tomb, the air around them hollow and empty of any life.
And as dismal as the situation is, he's reminded that they were close to meeting the same fate. The pod had stopped working, and if it weren't for Emma they wouldn't have survived. If she hadn't used her magic to tear their pod away from the ship, they never would have made it.
He can't help but watch her as they walk. She bites her lip in concentration, green eyes wide as they scan ship's exterior. She's dirtier, and a little more worn down than when he first met her in the stuffy atmosphere of that high-class party, but he finds her just as beautiful, and, if it's even possible, he finds himself more enamored by her now than that first night she fluttered those pretty lashes at him.
Distracted as he is by the woman beside him, he still manages to find a break in the ship's hull that lets them in. A pane of metal has buckled away from the rest of the spaceliner, leaving a small amount of space that, if they can wedge open, could become an entrance.
Without saying much they get to work, with hands gripping the edge of the opening they lean back, straining and panting as they try to make the gap larger.
The metal is moving, but at a pace too slow for the level of exertion their putting out. Killian is about to suggest they take a break, or try using her magic, but the thought is cut off when a searing pain slices across his palm. Wrenching his hand away from the metal he stumbles back, cursing.
"Bloody hell," he gasps, gritting his teeth against the throbbing of his palm. He should have been more careful, heeded his own advice and paid more attention to what he was doing. An angry red line spans the width of his palm, and within seconds it's bleeding. The blood flow is generous, furious and red. Killian tightens his other hand around his wrist in an effort to minimize the bleeding.
"Killian, is everything—oh." Emma's quick to react, grabbing their pack and sifting through it as fast as she can. "Didn't you think to pack a first-aid kit of some sort in this 'survival pack' of yours," she huffs in irritation. Stressed by the amount of blood streaming from his hand.
"A small one. It's at the bottom."
The pain is bearable, the only cause of concern is that it's deep and it isn't like they have much in terms of medical supplies.
"Okay, I found it. Let's see your hand."
He offers her is hand, and she holds his fingers gently while she pours more than half the contents of a tiny bottle of antiseptic over his palm. It stings, and Killian hisses at the pain.
"Baby," she teases, but her brow furrows in concern as she places the gauze from the first aid kit against the cut and wraps the wound as best she can, with what little they have.
"There," she says, kissing the tip of his fingers and then lifting up onto her toes to place a chaste kiss against his lips, "all better."
"Much better, thank you, love," he grins at her as she kneels down to pack away the near-empty first aid kit. Despite her best efforts, his wound begins to bleed through his bandage, but he's not too worried.
It will be fine. Once the bleeding slows it can start clotting.
Ignoring the way his palm now throbs in time with his heart beat, Killian focuses his attention back on the small opening. "Perhaps, we should try your magic," he suggests, using his good hand to scratch at the back of his head.
Emma only shrugs in response, tilting her head to the side as she considers the gap. "Actually, I think I can fit through it."
Killian doesn't even have time to protest before she's turning herself sideways and worming her way into the dark opening.
"Alright, but keep making sure that you can move backwards." He's anxious at the thought of her getting stuck, heart hammering at the off chance that she cuts herself on something and ends up with a wound more severe than his. Her legs disappear and he waits with his breath caught in his chest. "Swan?"
His call is met with a clash, and the bowed metal jolts as she kicks at it from the other side. She kicks at it several more times, the metal bending easier when the force comes from the inside, and soon enough the gap is big enough for Killian to fit through.
"Well, Lieutenant Jones," Emma says as she steps back out from spaceliner. Playfulness dances in her eyes and her success has brought an elated grin to her lips, "I officially welcome you aboard The Swan, vessel of your majesties the King and Queen of Misthaven."
He shakes his head at her with fondness before giving her a quick wink. "Thank you, milady," he smiles, inclining his head in her direction.
She bites her lip to keep from laughing and turning around she steps back into the spaceliner. Killian watches her disappear before following her bright hair into the darkness.