Title: Finding Home With You
Warning: Contains spoilers from Season 4.
Author's Note: Let me know what you guys think so far! Back to Killian's point of view.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Once Upon A Time characters.
Summary: (Lieutenant Duckling!AU) What would have happened if Emma and Henry couldn't help Regina get her happily ever after? Now stuck in the story the Author wrote them into, Emma and Henry will have to start a new life in the Enchanted Forrest. With a little help from a timid sailor, Killian Jones. But plagued by the new Evil Queen, the three will have to continuously dodge Snow's efforts to hunt them down and end them.
Word Count: 3,113
Bloody hell.
His mind simply could not stop reeling. He had spent the past quarter hour reliving every moment of the most exhilarating and lovely interaction in his entire life. But nothing sent him blushing quite like her parting words.
Just what had she meant by more compromising positions? And why did she seem okay with her son seeing them so close? He was, after all, a mere stranger, though neither son nor mother acted as though he were.
The more he thinks on it, the more confused he becomes. Though one thing is achingly clear, he is without a doubt falling in the most potent kind of love with Emma Swan in the quickest means possible.
He tightens his grip on the wheel, willing her tantalizing voice to stop whispering in his ear. He'll have time to relive all of these moments later, when she takes her son and leaves. For now he needs to soak in every moment he has with her while he can.
"Hey, Killian," Henry's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Why, of course, lad. Though, I can't promise I'll have the answer," he responds, trying to keep a light tone to mask his insecurities.
"Believe me, you're the only one who can have the answer," Henry mutters as he walks closer. The boy was just as mysterious as his young mother. "This may be a bit personal, but do you have feelings for my mom?"
Killian opens his mouth to respond, but unable to form any words, closes it once more. He clears his throat and tries again, but his mind is reeling too much to think clearly. I must look like a bloody fish, gaping like an idiot.
"I'll take that as a yes," Henry says with a smirk, causing Killian's ears to burn. "I thought as much, with the way you look at her."
Killian was sure he'd catch flames any second now, with how hot his ears felt. "I'm not sure I know what you mean, lad," he was able to choke out, starring pointedly at the horizon and avoiding eye contact.
"It's okay, you know. We've talked about it before," his voice was soft as the lad tried to soothe Killian the way the Swan girl had.
And there he was, talking about some past Killian had never lived. Why did this pair seem to think they had history with him when he had only met them today?
Killian looked at the boy, and couldn't help it when his voice rose, both in pitch and volume, "What is it with you two? You keep speaking of things that haven't happened. I don't know what you're both bloody talking about half the time!"
"Killian," Emma's calming voice comes from behind him. He turns to see her climbing the last few steps onto the main deck and looking at him with sympathy in her eyes and he knows it's because of the wild confusion in his own. She places a hand on his bad arm, just above the crook of his elbow. It's comforting and exhilarating at the same time. Her touch sends sparks along his skin, yet cools the wild heat of confusion within. "Henry, take the helm," Emma commands, all the while maintaining eye contact with Killian.
He finds himself once more sinking into the most beautiful pool of green he could ever imagine. He can see her sympathy, her comforting nature, her determination, her…love?
That can't possibly be. A confident, strong, beautiful woman like Emma Swan could never love a sniveling coward like himself.
Then again, this extremely unpredictable woman continuously surprises him, as she does now when she slides her hand down his arm and holds his hook with her fingers, completely unbothered by the lack of limb. He can't help gaping down at her long, graceful fingers curled around the hard, cold metal so naturally.
She's no longer looking at him, but walking away, tugging him along behind her. He knows it must be frustrating to her, the way he blindly stumbles along, relying purely on her hand in his hook to keep him moving, but he is unable to bring himself out of his state of shock.
The Swan lass finally releases his hook and lightly pushes down on his shoulders. He looks around to see that she's brought him down to the Captain's cabin and has him sat on the bed. She turns and sits next to him, close enough for him to feel his tongue run dry. Their legs touch. Their arms touch. Their shoulders touch.
And then she wriggles her hand under his elbow and runs it down his forearm until her fingers once again wrap around his hook. And as if he isn't having a bloody hard enough time breathing as it is, she leans her head on his shoulder, her free hand resting in the crook of his arm.
He knows she can feel the way he's breathing hard, but he doesn't know how to stop. Not with her so close, so intimately close.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, causing his head to swivel to the side in order to get a good look at her.
"What for, love?" He asks gently, surprising himself with how even his voice is.
She removes her head from his shoulder, turning her head to look at him. "For not telling you everything. For being so secretive and just expecting you to do everything we asked. It isn't fair to you," she responds, her eyes slightly watering. She glances away, looking down at her fingers as they slide over the cool metal of his hook.
He's amazed by her familiarity with the harsh tool. She's not disgusted or afraid. She seems completely at ease, drawing small patterns on the hook as one might the palm of a hand.
"I don't blame you, lass," he reassures her, his hand coming up to cover hers where it lay on his arm.
At his touch, her head snaps up to look at him, surprise and hope in her eyes.
She sniffles once, before nodding. "Still, now that we have some time, I'd like to explain it all to you. If you'd like, I mean," she says tentatively.
He chuckles at her uncertainty and shakes his head. "Even Lily couldn't keep me away," he teases, smiling when her eyes twinkle and she grins.
"I'm not exactly sure where to start," she eventually admits, after chewing on her bottom lip for a few silent minutes.
"I find the beginning is usually a great place for starting," he replies cheekily, bumping his shoulder against hers as she struggles against a smile.
"That's just it," she responds, thoughtfully. "There really is no beginning. You see, I come from a different reality; well it's more like the reality I remember has been changed, rewritten. I'm confusing you even more, aren't I?" She questions when she sees his furrowed brow.
"No, I'm just trying to understand, love. Go on," he urges, wanting to hear more about this other reality.
"Right, well. There's a man called the Author and he's supposed to keep track of all things. Once one Author dies, it becomes another man's duty to take on the responsibilities of Author and keep track of all things and so on. But the most recent Author decided to stray from the path. Instead of just, you know, recording what he saw, he decided to change it all. He wrote us this story; well, him and the Dark One. His name is Rumpelstiltskin and he was determined to make all the villains' happy endings come true while leaving the heroes to suffer. He has a particular dislike for you, so he had the Author write you as a timid hand deck, instead of the proud captain you really are," she says, her eyebrows furrowing in anger and her voice turning bitter.
"Are you alright, love?" He asks, squeezing his hand around hers tighter.
"I'm sorry, it's just- Oh, Killian, it isn't fair. You deserve so much more than this. You're supposed to be captain of the Jolly Roger, not Blackbeard. You're confident and daring and witty and a true hero. And Rumpelstiltskin took that all away from you. He took so much from so many. My parents especially. He took away their true love and their hope; he took away who they really are," she replies, tears flowing freely now.
He gently untangles his hook from her grasp and wraps that arm around her shoulders to provide some comfort. She immediately snuggles into him, turning to wrap her arms around his neck and holding herself against him as she cries into his shoulder. He knows he shouldn't be thinking of such things at the moment, but he loves the way her body fits into his, the way her mouth is so delectably close to his throat. Close enough to-
He forces himself to think only of comforting the young woman in his arms.
After her cries die down, he swallows hard and asks, "Who are your parents, love?"
"My mother is Snow White and my father is Prince Charming," she answers quietly against his neck.
He is barely able to suppress a gasp. Everyone knew of the Evil Queen's hate for her man-servant. And beyond that, how could this bright, positive, loving young woman have parents so dastardly? Or so young?
"And how do you know all of this? Don't get me wrong, love, I'm not doubting you. I merely wonder why you're the only one who seems to recall this other reality, as you call it."
She's quiet for a few more seconds, wiping away tears as she twists to face forward and lean the back of her head against his shoulder once more and while he misses the more intimate closeness they had only moments ago, he also revels in the comfort this simple position brings him.
"That was his way of making me miserable," she replies morosely. "You see, in our land I have magic. I have the purest magic possible, because I am the product of True Love, my parent's true love. And because of who I am, I've broken curses and saved our town multiple times. I'm known as the Savior, as ridiculous as that sounds. And Rumpelstiltskin had the author rob me of my magic, stick me in a land where everyone I love suffers one way or another and then let me keep my memories so I could watch their suffering and remember how it should be."
He's silent for a few minutes, simply tightening his arm around her at the emptiness in her voice. "Swan, I haven't the words to tell you how sorry I am."
She heaves in a dry sob at his words and turns to look at him.
"And your lad," he prompts in a whisper, when her gaze becomes too intense for him to bear.
"Henry is not from this land. The Enchanted Forest, I mean. He was born back in our world, in Storybrooke. When the Author rewrote the story, Henry wasn't included, because he's from the land without magic. I don't know how exactly he made it here, but I'm so grateful he did. He's brilliant, that kid. And I can't fix this without him," she says proudly.
He can see just how much she loves her son. And just how highly she thinks of him.
"And I can't fix it without you either," she continues, looking at him gratefully. "Henry was right to come and get you, there's practically no one else in this whole realm I'd trust to help us on this quest."
"Hey, mom?" Henry's voice comes from above, cutting off Killian before he can even think of how to respond to her confession.
Emma glances over to the stairs that lead to the main deck and then back at Killian, hesitating for a moment before placing another soft kiss on his cheek and then climbing the stairs.
Killian spends the rest of the ship ride sitting in the same spot, thinking over the latest encounter. Everything would make a bit more sense now, if he were to believe Emma's words. And for some reason he does, wholeheartedly. He has absolutely no reason to believe her, but he can find no doubt in his heart or mind. In fact, he not believes her, but he wishes it were true. And he wants to help get everything back to normal. He wants to become this proud, witty captain that Emma speaks so highly of. He wants to be worthy of the pride and adoration in her eyes. He wants to have the confidence to hold her and kiss her without her having to initiate the contact.
He wants to remember why such a daring, confident, able young woman would trust him with her life and the life of her boy, not to mention the fate of her much loved family and townsfolk.
When he can hear the sounds of port, he makes his way on deck and helps his new companions dock the ship. Then they make their way towards town, making sure to steer clear of any black knights along their way.
"Henry, why don't you find us some food?" Emma suggests, quirking an eyebrow when her son smirks back at her.
Killian sees the interaction, but doesn't quite understand the blush on the young mother's face. The boy runs off though, shouting back something about protection which doesn't make much sense to Killian. Shouldn't the mother be worrying about the child's safety and not the other way around?
"I'm going to kill that punk," Emma mutters under her breath, avoiding eye contact with Killian as she hurries into a large, but less crowded alley way. "C'mon let's get working on your fighting. This sure is strange- I mean, me teaching you. You used to brag about how much better you were than me," she says, chuckling to herself as she slowly approaches him.
He tenses, loving her proximity, but unaware of what to do with himself while she's that close.
He clears his throat in an attempt to clear his mind, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, "You're telling me that…in this other reality, I'm an expert with such a weapon?"
She smirks and cocks an eyebrow, "You're a regular Jack Sparrow."
Confused at her words, he frowns slightly. "Is that good?"
She ignores his question, and responds with, "Here, let me show you how to use it."
He opens his mouth to protest or point out how she ignored his question, but she walks around behind him thoroughly destroying anything he might have said by pressing her small body against his back and wrapping one arm around him to grab his wrist. She guides his arm backwards to unsheathe the weapon and then pushes his hand upwards. The metal gleams in the sun, but all Killian can focus on is the way she's pressed up against him.
"They say once you become an expert, your subconscious takes over," she informs him, swinging his arm to show him the basic techniques. He knows he should be paying attention to what she's teaching him, but she's so enticingly close. And she only gets closer as she says, "Back in my world, that's what we call muscle memory."
She guides his sword back into its sheath, but does not remove her hand from it. He doesn't complain; he likes being this close to her.
"Tell me more about this reality you want to return to," he says, turning his body slightly to face her. He notices that her hand continues to remain on his sword hilt, anchoring her to him, and this gives him the courage to continue. Terrified, and with only the nerve to maintain eye contact for mere moments at a time, he goes on, "Us, for example. I sense that we, uh, we may be close."
He doesn't even have enough time to hope for an answer in the affirmative before she sends his heart soaring with a simple, "Very."
"Really?" Killian can't help the relieved and hopeful chuckle that comes out. He's amazed at the newfound confidence that this woman's company seems to give him. He even attempts to flirt, "Well, I'm starting to get jealous of the other me."
"Let's see what food Henry's discovered," she responds, ignoring his remark. He isn't even put off by it though, because of the blush on her cheeks, smile on her lips and twinkle in her eye. "I'm starving."
He starts to follow her, about to question her change of subject, but is interrupted by a woman's voice shouting, "There they are!"
He isn't really sure about everything that happens after that. He's caught with fear at the sight of the Evil Queen herself coming after them with a horde of black knights. Emma tries to reason with the Queen and her man-servant, but to no avail. They are forced to fight and Killian does the only thing he can think of; he sacrifices himself for the woman he has irrevocably and inconceivably fallen in love with over the course of a day.
He turns to her and pushes her back slightly, "Save Henry."
The defeated look on her face shatters his heart, "Killian, you can't beat them."
"If I can help return things to how they were meant to be, then what happens to me here won't matter, will it?" He can see in her eyes that she understands what he's getting at. He's willing to die to return her to the world she's meant to be in. Killian knows that any life where he's willing of Emma's trust is worth dying for. She looks torn, though, unsure if his logic is truth. "Now go. Save your boy."
Killian himself is unsure where the authority came from to give that last order, but he's glad he does as she stumbles back a few steps, heading towards Henry.
An alien, but not altogether uncomfortable feeling takes over and he suddenly feels very familiar with his sword. He isn't able to make out exactly how he does it, but he somehow is able to take down the man-servant and makes an advance towards the queen.
He hears the Swan lass' voice yelling from farther down the corridor, though, and begins to turn. As he does so, he senses a presence behind him and has enough time to turn completely before a blade is pushed inside of him. He can feel the pain of the cold metal and then everything fades into darkness.