Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours.
Two weeks since the Snow Queen had been foiled. Fourteen days since Gold had been forced over the town line by Belle. Three hundred and thirty six hours, and counting, since Emma had watched as Gold held Hook's heart in his hand. Since she'd almost lost him.
Since that day, Emma and Killian had been nearly inseparable. Days spent together. At Granny's, Emma's parents' loft or walking along the beach. Mostly they talked. First of the events that had led up to Gold possessing Killian's heart, but then of everything else. Their equally checkered pasts, their hopeful future, happenings around the town, their favourite series on Netflix. Their days together felt surprisingly domestic, but Emma found she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. In fact, she rather liked it.
Their nights however, were still infuriatingly spent alone. They both wanted each other, that much was obvious, but despite the abnormal calm that had settled over Storybrooke, they just couldn't seem to catch a break. While there were no villains to contend with, the inhabitants of the town seemed to be going stir crazy since crossing the town line was still impossible. Anytime Emma and Killian got remotely close to any kind of satisfaction, an argument, a brawl, or some other emergency that required the Sheriff's immediate attention always seemed to pull her away. Hell, Henry's appendix had even burst during one particularly steamy make out session. While Regina's magic had quickly set Henry right, the constant interruptions were maddening to say the least. Two weeks, hell more like two years, of flirting and thinly veiled desire certainly did nothing to help the situation.
Perhaps that's why when Emma found herself pressed against the wall outside of Killian's room at Granny's, she could do little else than cling to the lapels of his jacket, pulling his lean, muscular body more tightly against hers. He kissed her passionately, persistently. As if he were a drowning man, and she his oxygen. When his tongue trailed a torturously slow path across her bottom lip Emma moaned, almost embarrassingly loudly, before deepening the kiss. Their heated breaths filling the dimly lit hallway. Killian's arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, the cool metal of his hook at her hip. His hand roamed her body unabashedly. Touching her cheek, trailing his fingertips down her side, bringing his hand back up her body to sweep through her hair.
Reluctantly breaking their kiss for air, his lips moved to her neck. He placed, wet, open mouthed kisses along her pulse, his scruff tickling her delicate flesh. The sensation eliciting what could only be described as a giggle to fall from Emma's lips. At the sound, Killian smiled against her skin. Gods, he loved to hear her laugh. He swore he would spend every waking moment, for the rest of his life, chasing that sound. He continued his exploration of her skin, raining soft, wet kisses along her neck, her jaw, her collar, anything he could make contact with. She sighed and arched against him, releasing his jacket and running her hands through his hair.
He parted her legs with his knee, his jean clad leg rocking gently against her core. She bucked her hips against him, desperate for more contact. Killian's hand slid down her body to her leg, his fingertips gently trailing across her smooth skin. He hesitated when he came to the hem of her skirt, though his fingers positively itched to go further. Sensing his trepidation, Emma pushed her leg against his hand, the movement inching her skirt up, exposing more skin. Needing no more encouragement, Killian's hand continued to explore her thigh, pushing the skirt higher, inch by tantalizing inch.
"Such a wanton woman," He whispered into her ear, blowing lightly before he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling lightly. In response, Emma let out a low, breathless moan, her hand tightening its hold on his hair, pulling lightly. Sod it, Killian thought. He'd spend the rest of his days chasing that sound.
Emma's hands dropped to his shirt, which she pulled unceremoniously from his pants. Needing to feel his skin, as he felt hers. She slid her hands under his shirt, feeling his toned back, pulling him closer to her. She raked her nails down his back and smiled when he groaned, with a volume rivaling her own.
"Gods, Swan," He said, his voice raspy, his words hot against her skin as he rocked his hips against hers. "Can you feel what you do to me, love?" His words sent another moan through Emma. She most definitely could feel him, hot and heavy against her thigh.
"Killian," Emma said, her voice breathy as she extracted herself from his embrace. She rested her palms on his chest, gently pushing him just enough so she could meet his eyes. She looked completely wrecked, her lips swollen, lipstick smeared, her hair mussed. From his own rapid heartbeat, pounding loudly in his ears, Killian surmised he must be in a similar state.
"Forgive me, love," He said, his accent falling from his lips more thickly than he was accustomed. He smoothed her skirt, now resting scandalously high, back over her silky thighs, his hand lingering only slightly longer than was necessary. He may be a gentleman, but he was still a man after all. He cleared his throat and attempted to maintain some semblance of composure. "Since the return of my heart, my self control seems to be lacking when it comes to you." He swallowed thickly, and moved to increase the space between them, but Emma grabbed his necklace, holding him in place.
"No, I," A slight blush on her cheeks, Emma dropped her eyes. Her hands preoccupied with the charms on his necklace. She bit her lip and found his eyes again. "Just, are you gonna invite me in, or what?"
His fingers twitched, and he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and do exactly as she requested. Summoning all the strength he possessed, he took a half step away from her, his eyes searching hers carefully.
"Are you certain, love? I don't want to rush you into—"
"Rush me?" Emma said. While her tone was laced with frustration, there was also a delightful twinkle in her eye. "Killian, open the damn door before I break it down." Killian's eyes darkened considerably at her words. His gaze so full of lust that for a moment, Emma thought he might take her, right there, in the hallway. She moistened her lips and suppressed a shiver at the thought. Instead he smiled broadly, and reached into his pocket, no doubt in search of his key.
"Of course, Swan. As you wish," Killian's said, as he fell into a mock bow, a chuckle tumbling from his lips before he could think to stop it. He brandished his key and extracted himself from her embrace. Shooting her a saucy wink as he turned to the door. Before he had a chance to lament the loss of Emma's body against his, she wrapped her arms around his torso, her whole body tightly pressed against his back. Her hot mouth doing the most delicious things to his neck. Killian bit back a groan and tried to focus on his task. The feel of her was distracting as hell, particularly as her hands began tracing senseless patterns across his stomach. He couldn't help but feel more than a little relieved that Emma seemed to want him as desperately as he craved her.
Against all odds, he managed to open the door. Breathing heavily, he spun in Emma's arms, capturing her lips once again in a bruising kiss as he slammed the door behind them. Bathed in darkness, he almost missed passion burning in his Swan's eyes. Soundlessly, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and he lifted her off the floor, carrying her across the room to the bed. Without breaking their kiss, he deposited her on the mattress, his body covering her own. Hastily, he unzipped her jacket, his hand exploring the newly exposed skin. Emma arched her back into his touch. Her own hands dropping to his belt.
"Bloody hell," Killian gasped as she palmed him roughly him from over top his pants. "Slow down, love," He whispered, swatting her away. They'd waited so damn long, he absolutely refused to be rushed with her now. He kissed her languidly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. His hand sliding under her shirt, relishing the feel of her smooth skin under his rough palm.
"Well this is embarrassing," A soft, sultry voice said from the corner of the room. Emma almost jumped out of her skin as a lamp flickered to life to reveal a woman, sitting quietly on the only chair in the small room. Her arm resting causally on the end table beside her. A small satchel resting beside her feet.
Emma and Killian leapt to their feet, almost simultaneously, albeit somewhat clumsily. Their bodies a tangle of limbs, their vision clouded by passion. Killian reached for a sword, which was of course long absent from his hip. He cursed himself inwardly as he angled his body slightly so he stood between Emma and the intruder, as if he feared she might suddenly lunge at them, though she made no move to do so. There was something familiar about the intruder, but having more than 300 years of memories made placing the particulars difficult. His whole body was taunt with stress as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he knew exactly who the intruder was. All too well, he thought with a grimace. He needed to get Emma as far as possible from her, as quickly as he could.
Nervously considering who this woman was, and more importantly why she rattled Killian so, Emma surveyed her unabashedly. Intricate and delicate braids framed her face, keeping her long blonde hair, which tumbled almost to her waist in soft waves, out of her piecing blue eyes. Her skin was pale and unmarred, her lips an almost shocking shade of red. Besides the number of rings she wore on her fingers, she had little else in the way of ornamentation. Not that she needed it, Emma thought with a surprising pang of jealously. The soft light cascaded over the dark, tight leather clothing she wore, which left little doubt to how trim her small body was. Her ample chest almost spilled out from her vest. Emma shifted uncomfortably, suddenly filled with an irrational desire to bash the woman's head in with the lamp.
"Lady Jorinde," Killian said, his voice low, and laced with a hint of danger, something Emma hadn't heard from him in a very long time. "I do believe when last we met, I promised you a swift death should I ever have the misfortune to look upon you again."
"It would seem you have the misfortune," She said, seemingly unperturbed by Hook's threat. She nonchalantly crossed her legs, the leather of her pants swishing slightly as she moved. She surveyed the pair of them with bored look. "But I doubt very much you'll wish to harm me until you've learnt what I've crossed realms to tell you. Bad form and all that."
"I doubt very much that we have anything to discuss," Killian retorted with a growl, his arm resting protectively on Emma's waist.
"Come now, Captain," Jorinde replied, a sultry smile painting her face. "Or should I even call you that, being as you're without a ship? Word has it, you traded the Jolly for one measly magical bean. That doesn't sound like the ruthless pirate I knew."
"Well you never did know me well, lass," He shot Emma a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. As he suspected, a telltale glimmer of guilt crossed her face at the mention of his ship. His former ship. He wanted to reassure her that he felt not an ounce of regret at the decision, but alas, now was not the time. Instead he tightened his hold on Emma's waist. "Now, if you wish to leave here with your life, I suggest you take your leave."
"I'm not playing, Jones," The woman snapped, a flash of annoyance crossing her face, before she could compose herself. She fiddled absentmindedly with one of her many rings, twirling it in place around her finger. "Lose the wench, we have business to discuss."
"Yeah right," Emma said, moving from behind Killian to stand by his side. "Anything you have to say to him, you can say to me." She could feel her magic thrumming through her veins. She balled her fists and took a halting breath, a little surprised at the feeling. It had been a while since her magic had felt out of control. While subtle, her outburst was not lost Killian. The damn man never missed a thing about her. He placed a comforting hand on the small of her back and eyed her, concern darting across his face.
"It's about them," The woman said, her voice quiet, simply ignoring Emma. "And what we took."
Killian's head swivelled to look at Jorinde, his jaw tightly clenched, the vein near his temple throbbing. Through her words had been decidedly cryptic to Emma's ears, she could see that they obviously meant something to Killian. Though she knew it was petty, she would be lying if she said that the fact this Jorinde seemed to have a shared past with Killian didn't irk her. That, coupled with the fact that she continued to act as if Emma were invisible did nothing to cool the boiling blood pumping in her veins.
"Perhaps it's for the best, Swan—" Killian started gently, turning to face Emma once again, knowing his words would almost certainly displease her. He had no qualms with Emma hearing anything, everything, about his past, but the thought of getting Emma away from Jorinde, to safety, was too tempting to pass up. He would explain everything, and deal with her anger, later.
"Are you kidding me?" Emma interrupted, bewildered. A trace of hurt in her voice, that he would even consider siding with this other woman over her. "Killian, I—"
"Killian?" The other woman interrupted, her lips turned in a sneer, her eyes twinkling. "My, that is interesting isn't it?"
Killian flinched slightly, but aside from that, paid the other woman no mind. He moved between her and Emma, blocking her from Emma's sight completely. His eyes pleading, he rested his hand and his hook on Emma's hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him.
"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice low. His steely eyes carefully darting between hers. The quiet desperation in his voice took Emma by surprise.
"You know I do," Emma replied, his question causing her features to soften. They didn't however, smooth the trace of annoyance lacing her words. Whether her annoyance was from the fact that he'd had to ask if she trusted him, he should know the answer by now, or his not so subtle attempt at manipulation, she wasn't certain.
Her answer, quick to fall from her lips, brought a small smile to Killian's face and a twinkle to his eye. He ran his fingers through her hair, still slightly mussed from their encounter in the hallway. His smile growing in size, he tugged playfully on a lock before tucking it behind her ear.
"Then please, love," He said, his hand slipping back down to her rest on her hip. He slowly, but persistently ushered her towards the door. "Go back down to the bar, have a libation, on my tab. I'll join you before you're finished. I promise."
Emma allowed herself to be walked backwards, her eyes never leaving his. Her hands rested on his forearms, as if her physical presence could somehow make him change his mind. She felt his warmth radiating through their clothes and for the hundredth time since she'd met him, she found herself wishing she had her own place. Her eyes dropped of their own accord down to his lips, still slightly swollen from their ministrations. A slight blush crept onto her face as she imagined how differently their night could have been had they gone to Emma's imaginary, non-existent apartment. How free of sultry, leggy, mysterious blondes, seemingly from Killian's past, they could have been.
Killian reached behind her and pulled the door open, the light from the hall flooding the room, breaking Emma's train of thought. Her eyes darted back to the leather clad woman. For her supposed nonchalance, she was all tension, her foot bouncing, her fingers strumming against her thigh. The woman caught her eye and stilled her movements. She smiled saucily and winked at Emma. A knot of something Emma would not call jealously twisted in her stomach as she looked back to Killian.
"One drink," Emma replied. Her response somewhere between a question and a command, as she took a half step into the hall.
"Aye," He whispered so faintly Emma could scarcely hear his words, as he leaned closer to her. "I know better than to keep my Swan waiting."
He closed the remaining space between them and placed a small, chaste kiss, full of promise, on the corner of her mouth. While there was nothing truly improper in his touch, Emma still couldn't help but suppress a small shiver. She gave his arms one last squeeze before she released him and moved out into the hallway.
"Is that the new Milah?" The woman asked, her voice somehow both smooth as silk and grating to Emma's ears at the same time.
"What she is, is of no concern to you," Killian growled, the softness gone from his voice, as he turned away from Emma. "Say your piece. Before I change my mind."
With that he shut the door roughly, causing it rattle slightly in the frame. Emma could vaguely hear the murmurs of conversation, but the thick door kept her from making out any of their words. Swallowing thickly, she stared at the dark wood, a flush creeping onto her skin. For a wild moment, she considered storming back into the room, demanding answers. Instead, ignoring the gnawing feeling in her stomach, and the fact that she was seeing red, she turned on her heel and stomped down the hall to the stairs that led from the inn to the diner. She had half an intention to storm right out of Granny's, into the cold and all the way home. As she considered leaving Killian and that woman alone in the same building, she instead flopped unceremoniously onto a barstool. Her hand tapping the vinyl counter impatiently.
While a part of her knew she was being ridiculous, beneath her simmering anger, she felt surprisingly hurt. She and Killian were supposed to be a team. Rationally, she knew Killian asking her to wait downstairs plus a slammed door did not rejection make. But that knowledge didn't do anything to lessen the string. She felt rejected. Something she was unaccustomed to feeling. Especially from him. She vaguely wondered if he'd ever slammed a door in Lady Jorinde's face, the gnawing feeling in her stomach back with a vengeance.
Emma shook her head to clear it. She eyed the bottles behind the bar, considering what would cost the most. Killian did say to put it on his tab after all… The thought of payback, however minor, brightening her mood slightly. Emma effortlessly envisioned herself drowning her worries in shot after shot. The warm burn of alcohol, soothing all her troubles. Unbidden, a vision of Hook's mystery woman popped into her head and she sighed, realizing drinking probably wasn't the best idea. She wanted to keep her wits about her, should she need to… do what? Kick her leather clad ass for putting the moves on her pirate? Real mature Emma, she thought to herself.
"Mom?" A voice called from the other end of the diner, interrupting her thoughts. Emma rotated on her stool and saw Henry sitting with Regina in a booth. Both shooting her a perplexed look. Emma smiled and walked over to them, trying to ignore the scathing look Regina shot her as she took in Emma's attire. Gritting her teeth, Emma zipped her red leather jacket up to her throat, lest more skin be exposed to Regina's scrutiny.
"Miss. Swan, I didn't expect to see you here," Regina said. Her voice, well not warm, lacked it's usual icy bite. Things were still slightly awkward between the two women, but Emma felt relieved that they finally seemed to be on the mend. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Don't wanna talk about it," Emma said, as she slipped into the both beside her son. Her voice came out more chipped than she had intended. Anger was always easier than pain. Emma sighed and admonished herself silently. It wasn't Regina's fault that she'd just had a door slammed in her face. And that behind said door was an attractive woman with Emma's, what? Boyfriend? Pirate? Makeout Buddy?
"Henry, do you have your storybook with you by any chance?" Emma asked, the idea popping into her mind unexpectedly. He nodded quickly as he reached for his bag. This momentary distraction also had the potential to reign in Regina's snark before she had a chance to get going.
"Is this about Operation Mongoose?" Henry asked, his voice low in a furtive whisper as he reverently set the book on the table.
"Uhh, no," Emma said simply, thumbing through the pages. She knew from experience that Henry's storybook contained disappointedly little about Hook, she couldn't help but wonder, and hope, that Jorinde's life was better documented within the leather-bound tome.
"What are you looking for?" Regina asked. Her tone, while cool, was also laced with curiosity.
Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She wasn't especially keen to burden her son and Regina with her relationship concerns, was that even what this was? But she knew that Henry and Regina had a much better handle on the stories in the book than she did. Despite the fact that she and Killian had a hand in rewriting some of the pages themselves.
"A woman, from Killian's past, I think," Emma said quickly, the words spilling out of her mouth before she had a chance to reconsider. A slight blush creeping onto her cheeks that she was asking them to assist her with her snooping. "I think her name is Jorinde."
"Overconfident, blonde, too much lipstick, a knack for breaking into places she shouldn't be?" Regina asked bluntly.
"Well, yeah that sounds like her," Emma said, surprised for a moment that Regina seemed to know exactly who she was talking about. She tired to not consider that there were probably a number of people in the world, this one and the enchanted forest, whom that description could apply to. Regina nodded and pulled the book towards her, purposely flipping through the pages.
"Our paths crossed when, well," She glanced at Henry with a sigh. Her fingers still turning the pages quickly. "Back when I was still the Evil Queen. And I'm afraid the story doesn't paint me in a very good light."
"It's okay, mom," Henry said, quickly and without hesitation. "We all know you're not the Evil Queen anymore." Regina shot him an genuine smile, before turning the book back around to face Emma and her son to see.
"Here," She said pointing at the page she was apparently searching for. A woman, who looked decidedly like Jorinde, well as much as a drawing could anyway, walked arm and arm with man, smiles dancing across their faces. "Jorinde and Joringel were two of the most notorious thieves in the Enchanted Forest. They even had the gall to try and steal from me."
"Thieves?" Emma asked surprised, quickly turning the page, trying to both listen to Regina's explanation and read the pages of the storybook.
"Is that Jorinde and Joringel?" Ruby interrupted, causing Emma to jump. She wrinkled her nose as though she was deep in thought as she set down an unbidden cup of hot cocoa next to Emma. "I didn't think they came over in the last curse, or the one before that…"
"They didn't," Emma said with certainty. She'd become all too well aquatinted with the town's inhabitants since thumbing through the dusty census records in an unsuccessful attempt to track down Ingrid. She squirmed slightly in her seat, unwilling to involve someone else in her borderline insane behaviour, but she was in too deep now anyways. God, since when had Emma Swan ever been the crazy stalker, obsessing over her partner's past? Leave it to Killian Jones to reduce her to this. "You knew them? Back in the Enchanted Forest?"
"Just by reputation," Ruby said with a shrug. "I thought they were more legend than anything else." She leaned over the table, studying the book.
"I can assure you," Regina said with a grimace. "They were very real. I caught Jorinde trying to steal from me, so I turned her into a bird, a nightingale actually, and kept her in a cage to teach her a lesson," She said with a shrug.
"I'm guessing she escaped," Emma said, again with a hint of certainty in her voice. That was no nightingale talking to Killian, that was for sure.
"Her betrothed, Joringel," Regina said tapping the picture of the man in the storybook. "Dreamt of a flower which would break my spell. More like Rumpelstiltskin put the dream there, but that's neither here nor there," Regina continued with a scoff. "He touched Jorinde with the flower, she became a woman again and they escaped. I'd almost forgotten about them…"
The end of Regina's story fell on Emma's deaf ears. She tried to compose herself as the mere mention of Rumpelstiltskin had turned her veins to ice, stilling any anger or frustration she felt towards Killian. It had been a couple weeks since she'd watched, helplessly, as Gold held Killian's heart in his hands, but she'd only very recently stopped having nightmares. The memory of the terrible day, of almost losing him, acting like a touchstone to snap her out of her insanity. She closed the book gently, and pushed it back towards Henry with a feeble smile. She felt unbelievably childish. She and Killian were a team. She didn't doubt for a moment that he would tell her every word of his conversation with Jorinde. He never lied to her. Killian had always been true to her and she had no reason to doubt him now. Besides, she further admonished herself, everyone had a past. She had a son for Christ's sake and he'd never let that bother him.
"Shut it down," Henry suddenly whispered, his eyes darting furtively towards the bar. His warning breaking Emma from her reflection. She shot Henry a confused glance, before she followed his eyes and saw Killian, standing near the small bar.
"Thanks, kid," Emma said as she fought back a laugh and bumped her shoulders against his.
Her eyes drifted back to Killian and she took a moment to contemplate him, before he found her. Times like this, Emma wished she could read him as easily as he was always able to read her. His entire body was tense and his brows furrowed in frustration, as his eyes scanned the diner. Emma smiled to herself, knowing he was looking for her. The ice in her veins thawing slightly at the mere sight of him. Despite her desire to not feel jealous, she also couldn't help but feel relieved to see no trace of Jorinde. She watched him tightly clench his jaw and run his hand through his hair. With a heavy sigh, Killian strode purposely out the door, the bell chiming overhead.
"Shit," Emma hissed under her breath, realizing he obviously hadn't seen her. He probably thought she'd run. Like she always did. She threw some money down on the table and slid out from the booth. "Thanks for the help guys," She called over her shoulder with a wave as she marched out the door.
She was met with a cool breeze as she stepped out into the street, her hair blowing lightly in the wind. Since the defeat of the Snow Queen, Storybrooke had been steadily growing warmer, but it was still winter, and the vague chill that hung in the air for the past couple weeks refused to be fully shaken. Squinting against the fading light, Emma saw Killian's retreating back. His shoulders hunched as he barrelled down the road.
"Killian," She called, as she walked towards him. Her breath visible as the street lights began to come alive. Her voice halted him in his tracks, he turned back to her, concern in his eyes. He jogged the remaining distance between them and before she had a chance to protest, not that she would have, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Swan," He said, the relief at finding her so quickly palpable in his voice. He released her and eyed her warily, no doubt expecting her wrath. "I thought you'd left, I was heading towards your loft," He spoke quickly. He scratched behind his ear, and Emma realized with a start that he was nervous. "I can explain everything, love. I—"
"I know," Emma said. She rested her hands on his waist and smiled. "But you don't have to—"
A gaggle of dwarves raucously pooled out of Granny's interrupting Emma. A couple shot her and Killian questioning looks and Emma fought the urge to fire several warning shots with her sidearm. Was it seriously too much to ask for 15 minutes alone with her pirate?
"I don't want to hide anything from you, love," Killian said, clearly unperturbed by the interruption. He looked so serious, his brows furrowed, and Emma wanted nothing more than to soothe the concern from his face. Before she had the chance, he took her hand in his and led her down the main street. Emma followed, wondering for only a moment where he could be taking her. She knew she guessed correctly when the gentle crash of the surf and the call of the gulls assaulted her senses. She eyed Killian carefully as she breathed in the salt of the sea. He always went to the docks when something was bothering him.
Killian released her hand as they sat down on a bench facing the water. For one of the few times since Emma had met him, Killian looked his 300 years. His face tightly drawn as she looked out to the sea. He sighed heavily, considering where to begin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, the darkness obscuring it from Emma's vision.
"I knew Jorinde, in another life," Killian began simply. "Before I was Hook," He said gesturing to the appendage which gave him his moniker. Emma saw the thinly veiled pain behind his eyes, knowing his thoughts turned to Milah, or perhaps to Liam. To the man he used to be. Saying nothing, Emma rested her hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. He closed his eyes at her touch, and continued. "We ran a couple of jobs together, with Jorinde and her partner. Our association did not end well." His eyes flashed and his jaw tightened at the memory.
"The short of it, is that Jorinde says she can return my ship to me," Killian said, his voice low. Emma couldn't help but notice the longing that flashed in his eyes, through he tried to hide it as he looked out to the sea. "For a price of course."
"What price?" Emma asked, apprehension lacing her words. She was comfortable, but by no means wealthy. It just wasn't something that mattered in Storybrooke. But if she could do something to return Killian's ship, his home…
"One last heist," Killian said, distain dripping from his voice. "One she claims I am uniquely suited for." He shook his head slightly, as if the whole situation was comical.
"You don't trust her?" Emma asked, trying to sort out what the issue was. "You don't believe she can get your ship back?"
"Not for moment," Killian said with a scoff. His eyes still surveying the ocean. "She is without a doubt the most vile woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I am almost certain this is some trap or scheme of hers, but—"
"But what," Emma asked when he hesitated. She scooted slightly closer to him on the bench, her knees brushing against his.
"She had this," He said, finally showing her what he had been fiddling with. He angled his body towards her and reached for her hand. Gently, he placed a small piece of wood with faint carvings onto her palm. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but something seemed to thrum beneath the surface of the wood, as if it were a living creature. Emma turned it over in her hands and studied it intently.
"What is it?" She asked after a moment, not understanding its significance.
"It's a piece of her," He said simply. "Of the Jolly Roger. She was my home for almost 300 years, Swan, I am certain it's from the Jolly." He looked at Emma defiantly, as if he expected her to question this, but she said nothing. She didn't doubt it, or him, for a second.
"But we know it's a trap," Emma said, a small smirk on her face. "You're telling me, that the fearsome Captain Hook, can't outmanoeuvre some wrench who stole his ship?"
"Emma," He said softly, his voice thick with emotion. He moved towards her and ran his hand gently through her hair. "After I lost you, during the last curse, I, it nearly broke me." He hesitated and she offered him a small smile. His words came as no surprise, he'd told her this before. "But I promised myself, should I ever get you back, that I would never leave you again. I'll make that same promise to you now Swan, I won't leave you, not for this, not for anything."
"So, don't leave me," Emma said, blinking away the tears in her eyes. She reached for him and rested her palm against his cheek. Her thumb gently caressing the scar on his face, his stubble tickling her palm. "Let's do this. Together. Killian, let's get your ship back."
"Even knowing it's a trap, I can't promise you'll be safe," He said quietly, a battle raging behind his piecing blue eyes. He knew what Jorinde was capable of. Yet, he could almost too easily envision he and his Swan on the deck of the Jolly. Laughter on her lips, his arms tightly around her waist, her skin salty from the sea…
"Since when has that ever stopped us?" Emma replied with a smirk. Still, Killian looked hesitant, so she leaned closer to him. She placed the piece of his ship firmly back in his palm, closing his fingers over it. Her own hands wrapped tightly around his. "Killian, we can do this. Let's get your ship back."
He contemplated her words for only a moment, before a wide smile danced across his face, his eyes twinkling. Happiness seemingly radiating off of him.
"Just when I think I couldn't—" He pauses, the words, love you anymore than I already do, almost falling from his lips, because of course he loves her. How could he not? He just isn't sure she's ready to hear it yet. "You never cease to amaze me, Swan," He says instead, before sweeping her into his arms. His lips chased hers, but she tilted, just slightly, out of his grasp.
"For the record," Emma said, her tone serious, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "Not a fan of doors being slammed in my face."
"Forgive me, love," Killian said, a look of regret flashing against his face. "I assure you, it was decidedly a one time thing."
"Good," She said, simply. Satisfied with his response, she closed the remaining distance between them, kissing him, hungrily. The passion from their recent encounter boiling just beneath the surface. She smiled against his lips as a soft hum of contentment escaped him. She couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation as she imagined this adventure she was about to embark on with her pirate.
So I have been having a bunch of trouble with fanfiction lately, but I think I finally got this up here! If you like what you read, please review :) This is my first try writing an OC character (because I am getting slightly tired of Once Upon a Disney), but don't worry, it will be mainly CaptainSwan because I am obsessed.