a/n: Wahoo! I updated! It's been a month, but I've been busy with the end of summer and then moving back to campus and school starting again. Thank you so much for everyone that reads this, and for all my follow/favorite/reviews, they seriously mean so much. I would love if you could leave me a review :) let me know your thoughts, predictions etc. I love hearing them!
It takes Killian's eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light, but once they do he realizes that it's not as dark as he had expected it to be—at least not here at the periphery of the ship. Small cracks along the hull create scattered constellations of light that shine through in a dusting of daylight. It isn't much, and it won't do them much good the deeper they venture into the ship, but it's enough to at least catch their bearings and figure out where they are.
Emma seems to be thinking along the same lines, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip as her eyes scan the hallway they've wandered into. Searching for anything familiar that can indicate what part of the spaceliner they're in.
As she looks about, Killian returns his attention to his injured hand. It's still bleeding more than he would like, and so he presses it against his stomach in hopes of helping it to slow down. Searing pain shoots across his palm and zips up to his elbow at the contact, and he has to clench his jaw to keep from grunting.
Inhaling deeply through his nose he looks up to see that Emma has roamed slightly away from him
"Emma?" he calls out to her. "Where do you suppose we are?"
"I think…" she pauses and turns to him, eyes flitting to his hand, and her brow furrowing in concern at the way he's holding it against him. "I think we're near the storage area, but I'm not entirely sure… It's hard to tell from here."
"Alright," Killian tries to relax his stance a bit, but keeps his hand pressed to his stomach. "Nothing else to do except start looking. Though the lack of light once we wander past this point might prove a problem—think you could magic some light, love?"
Her only response is to blink furiously at him for a moment before giving her head a little shake. As though she's surprised he would even consider that an option. "We should probably find something a little more reliable, my magic is spotty and unpredictable at best."
Her self-doubt in her abilities isn't surprising, she's voiced them before. But he's seen her magic, it's saved them more than once, and he knows that all she requires is to perhaps use it a little more, become more comfortable with it. But he doesn't even have a chance to state his belief in her abilities before she's surging on ahead of him.
"There's a hallway over here," she calls over her shoulder, "I'm sure we can find a utility closet that will have a flashlight of some sort."
She disappears from view and Killian has to take a few jogging steps to catch up with her. The hallway they enter is a long one, stretching on until all that is visible is a void of black nothingness. Doors line each side, but they're hardly discernable, the light from the previous hallway already fading. The first few doors they try are jammed shut and no amount of force will open them. Finally when a door does swing open it's full of useless crates that have been knocked over, the contents thrown about the room. But nothing of value or use is within the mess, so they move on.
They've almost reached the edge of their visibility and Killian is beginning to doubt that they'll ever stumble across this utility closet that Emma is hoping to find. So when the next door they open is exactly what they are looking for, Killian considers it heaven-sent.
Emma emits an excited little squeal of triumph before reaching in to rummage through the closet's scattered contents, and Killian can't help the soft chuckle that escapes his lips as he bends down to help her search.
The closet is full of a bunch of tools, and various wires. Most of it is stuff they have no use for, but Killian stores what he thinks may prove helpful in the future into his pack.
It's not until his arm is elbow deep in a box of tangled wires that he finds the object of their search. Wrapping his hand around its solid, rounded handle, Killian lifts it out and flicks the switch on with his thumb. Light instantly pierces the dark closet, allowing Killian full view of Emma's elated smile.
"Oh good," she breathes out on a laugh. "To be honest I was afraid we'd end up stumbling around in the dark with no ability to actually do anything."
"We'd have figured out," he assures her. He would have carted around a heavy handmade torch for hours if it meant they could find the blasted communications system, and he could help get Emma home to her family.
"Yes, but this makes things so much easier." She smiles and presses a quick kiss to his check before standing and stepping back out into the hallway.
She's right though, the flashlight does make things easier. They no longer have to walk half blind to the next door, with hands skimming the walls until they come across a handle, which means they progress much quicker than before.
With the new convenience of having a light source they end up dividing the hallway between them, with Killian taking the doors on the left, while Emma checks the ones on the right.
It's several minutes of useless room after useless room later when Emma calls out to him.
"What is it?" he asks, joining her at the door she's just pushed open.
"Killian, look inside."
He does as she asks, using the flashlight to light up what appears to be mounds of fabric. Sheets and clothes of every color litter the floor where they've fallen in heaps from their neatly folded place along the shelved walls.
"It's a laundry room!" Her voice is a mix of relief and total delight as she takes the flashlight from Killian's hand and begins digging through the piles of fabric. "I hate this dress," she continues while holding up a pair of pants, scrutinizing the size before tossing them back into the mess. "You have no idea how inconvenient, uncomfortable, cold, and absolutely miserable this dress is."
"I can imagine," he laughs, picking up and shaking out a dark blue shirt that's about two sizes two small.
Placing the shirt back in its original spot, he looks up to discover that Emma is turned away from him and in the process of unzipping the back of her dress. The sight of smooth pale skin sends his ears burning at the same time that desire swoops low in his stomach. And bloody hell he should look away—
But she hasn't said he couldn't look—
"Turn around," she instructs, looking over her shoulder at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes.
He turns and looks away with a quiet groan that he's sure only he can here. But Emma's responding giggle is evidence that perhaps he was louder than he thought.
The sound of fabric sliding across skin is far too distracting, and it doesn't help when in his periphery he catches sight of her dress being kicked across the room.
In an effort to think of something other than Emma's likely current state of undress, he lifts his palm up to eye level to examine his injury. The bleeding has finally slowed, but the meager bandage that's wrapped around it is soaked through and a deep red. But the bleeding slowing is something and he chooses to take this as a good sign. The pain has subsided somewhat, but his entire hand still throbs in time with his heart, which is more annoying than anything.
"Alright, you can turn back around now."
She directs the flashlight's beam at her body so he can take a look at what she's wearing. She's standing barefoot in a simple pair of pants, and a shirt of deep purple, that even in the dull light of the flashlight he can see how it makes her eyes seem impossibly greener. And with the way her hair drapes across one shoulder, Killian is almost at a loss for words. But perfection is the one word that does come to mind.
"You look lovely, Swan," he manages to get out after a few moments of unashamed, slack-jawed admiration.
"Right," she looks down smiling, and Killian can see the hints of pink coloring her cheeks, "They're just a pair of pants." She hands him the flashlight after deflecting his compliment, but her cheeks remain pink and she has to bite her lip to keep her smile at bay. "I'll turn around so you can find something to wear."
It doesn't take him long to locate a pair of pants and shirt that are relatively his size, but it takes him a little longer to put them on with only the use of his uninjured hand. He tries using is other hand, but the sting when he bends his fingers doesn't make the effort worth it.
He lets Emma know once he's dressed and she makes her way over to him with a sheet she's torn up into long strips.
"I think we need to redress your hand," she explains as she places the strips she's made over her shoulder and picks up his hand with a gentleness he appreciates. Considering even the smallest pressure sets his palm on fire.
She unwinds his blood soaked wrappings and winces once his gash is visible. "It looks like it stings."
"Aye," he hisses as she uses a random shirt to clean the blood from his hand. "I've had worse though."
She's meticulous and tender as she cleans his hand, trying her hardest to avoid actually coming in contact with the cut, but when she has to, she keeps her touch as light as possible. Once it's clean she takes what's left of the small bottle of antiseptic and pours it on his hand.
"We need to see if we can find more of this," she muses and begins wrapping his hand with her makeshift bandages. "There's a sick bay somewhere on this ship, it shouldn't be too hard to find."
When she's finished only the tips of his fingers are visible, and he must admit the whole thing doesn't look nearly as dire now that it's wrapped in clean, fresh, bandages.
"Thank you, again, love." He wraps his good hand around her back and pulls her against him. "Sure you're not actually a doctor instead of a princess?"
She laughs—and it's one of Killian's favorite sounds. It means she's happy. And her happiness, her smile, is quickly becoming one of his favorite sights.
"Hmmm," she hums as though seriously considering his question. All the while running her hand up his arm and across his chest until she can curl her fingers inside the neck of his shirt, using it to tug him closer and press her forehead against his. "Perhaps I was one in another life."
"Perhaps," he agrees before capturing her bottom lip between his own. He kisses her slowly—as though just by the unhurried pace of his lips moving against hers, he could make the kiss last forever.
"We should be getting back," Emma finally whispers against his lips. He feels them brush against his own as she speaks, as though she's reluctant to put even an inch of space between them. "It'll be dark soon, and we need to set up camp."
He sighs, and then kisses her one more time before unwinding his arm from her waist and taking a step back.
Before they leave the find two large laundry bags and fill them with spare clothes and stacks of sheets they can use to make a proper bed. Once satisfied that they have enough they leave the laundry room behind and retrace their steps back to the opening in the hull, shoving their stuffed bags out first ahead of them.
They make their way back to a stream they passed earlier, one that is not too far from the spaceliner. Killian worries that the water might be contaminated from the wreckage but it's the only water source for miles, and so they'll just have to make it work. If they boil the water before they use it, then they should be fine.
Setting up camp proves a more difficult task than usual for Killian. He's tries to keep his hand clean while setting up the fire, but the task proves unsuccessful. He gets a fire blazing but his hand is soon throbbing from the effort.
Emma works to make an elaborate bed, using more sheets than necessary to make it, and then keeping a few items of clothing in each bag to use as pillows. He would say it's unnecessary, considering they've been sleeping on the ground for weeks, but any objections leave his mind the second he lies down. The softness of the blankets and the extra padding are absolute bliss, and the feeling only increases once Emma crawls in to lie next to him.
They spend a while looking at the stars and sharing whispered stories until Emma falls asleep with her head pillowed by his shoulder and her hand atop his chest. Sleep does not come as easy for him. The throbbing of his hand a disturbance that chases away any idea of falling asleep. He tries closing his eyes and focusing on the rhythm of Emma's quiet breathing, hoping it can block out the stinging of his palm. But it's not until the moon is well on its way towards leaving the sky that he finally relaxes into unconsciousness.