Summary: Twenty-Six Years after the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, Emma Swan and Killian Jones’s only daughter is swallowed up by a portal where she gets caught up in a surprising mission that tests everything everyone thought known about a terrible battle that cost the life of the Saviour shortly after Zarina’s birth twenty-five years earlier.
Meanwhile, Killian and Henry fight to find a way to the missing Zarina, only to find themselves caught up in the same story.
Rating: Teen (but will probably become Mature)
Warning: Contains Reference to a Major Character Death
A/N: The predictability of the hate mail, was well, predictable. If you don’t like the theme, then don’t read it. This is going to be something a bit different to the usual, and all the hate mail in the world is not going to stop me finishing it and publishing it.
Also on AO3
Chapter One: Deep in the Enchanted Forest
Three days earlier…
Zarina Jones landed, cracking her wrist on the hard ground beneath the pile of leaves the portal tossed her into. She suppressed a groan. Then using her uninjured hand, she pushed herself over to lie on her back. Her gaze lingered on the fluttering canopy while sunlight shimmered over her body.
She wasn’t in Maine anymore. Sun was a rarity in the winter months. This was not Thanksgiving weekend Maine weather.
With a sign, she focused her attention on her wrist. It was rapidly swelling and any sensation in her fingers was dulling down. She cradled it against her chest while schooling her reactions in a bid not to cry. This type of physical pain was no longer normal for her. Not since she had blazed out of Storybrooke in a forty-year-old Mazda MX-5 Miata two years earlier with the vow to only visit in the Summer and holiday weekends. Maybe that’s why she was caught out. Her quiet life had dulled her senses.
Zarina rolled up into a seated position. From her position, she assessed the damage to her hand. A bruise was already spreading from the mound of her hand, towards her fingers and thumb to her wrist. She cursed under her breath. Then she closed her eyes, reaching for the magic buried deep within. It took a moment of persuasion, but it sparked. The white warmth travelled to meet her injured hand. She willed more forth to until the pain vanished and she could move her fingers again.
Once she was able to flex her hand comfortably, Zarina sighed in relief, a smile lifting on her lips. As she did, rustling reached her ears. The smile died and she cocked her head to listen when a whoosh of air passed close to her back. Flicking her head to her right, she saw an arrow embed itself into a tree trunk. Her eyes widened as she cursed under her breath before turning to face the direction it had come from.
She got to her feet as she looked up into the trees then back to the ground. She moved by instinct, her muscle memory kicking in to put her in a defensive position, but she hadn’t belted a sword to her side before leaving the house. Instead, she focused on her magic, letting it brim to the surface of her palms so it was a thought away.
‘Show yourself,’ she called, as she did another pass on her surroundings.
Three men emerged from the woods. Their attire was camouflage to look like the undergrowth. She looked at each one; two were burly in stature, with knives at their sides. Zarina surmised they were probably more proficient in throwing their fists than using daggers. The curl mop-headed man stood with his bow drawn, holding his bow tight. For the moment he was aimed just to the left of her shoulder, but it would only take a swift flick of his wrist and he could take her knee, or her ankle, her eye…
The list of devastating wounds that didn’t result in death was numerous.
‘Name yourself, Witch,’ the archer asked.
She smiled tightly, shaking her head tightly. ‘My dad always told me not to speak to strangers,’ she said.
The humour didn't hit home. ‘You are in violation of our bylaws.’
Zarina frowned looking down at where she had arrived in this world. ‘I didn’t do that,’ she said.
‘First, it's ‘I was thrown through a portal’, then it's an attempted coup on the Queen,’ said the Archer. ‘Magic is punished at the pleasure of Her Majesty.’
‘And what sort of pleasure does that entail?’
The Archer lowered his bow, his angle now a clean shot to her thigh. ‘Torture. Mutilation. Death.’
Zarina tried to suppress a smile at the ominous sounding tone. Judging by the grimace on her captors face, she didn't manage it.
As the Archer proclaimed he was arresting her, Zarina took in her surroundings as the Hulk on her left produced chains from his belt. He didn’t exactly look like the law and order respecting sort. She should know; her father was the infamous Captain Hook as well as the Sheriff of Storybrooke. He was hardly the epitome of law and order either, but at least he had an air of respect and authority about him. Zarina clicked her tongue, thinking of her father's one-time advice for if she ever got stuck in another realm, before turning on her heel and crashing into the undergrowth.
--//--
Assuming the sun travelled in the same east to west direction, then Zarina guessed she would be travelling north. After an initial sprint, she settled into her jogging pace to conserve energy which allowed her to duck branches. Several still caught her wool coat. The hundred and thirty dollar coat wasn’t exactly forest attire, but then she didn’t leave her father’s home with the intention of ending up in this forest.
With a glance behind her, she felt secure enough to slow to a walk. Taking a moment, she turned full circle to take in her surroundings. There was no discernible threat, but Zarina was certain her would-be captors were more than capable of creeping up on her. Still, if she kept jogging she’d cramp up then there’d be trouble. As she walked, she rolled her shoulders, rubbing her neck as she glanced around for more tree men.
Maybe she’d ended up in a Tolkien novel. She was pretty sure the Hobbit had some wildmen who prowled the woods. The archer and his men certainly weren’t elves.
Her feet kicked at the at the leaves carpeting the floor as she dug her hands into her pocket. In the reprieve of the situation, her mind began to work over possible outcomes to return home. It was clear her magic worked. Her hands clenched around the contents of the pocket. Her cell phone and keys. At least she still had them, for all the good they would do her here.
She kept moving. Her feet were dragging due to tiredness. A whole day had passed in Storybrooke before winding up here. As she willed herself to keep going, she crested a small mould which looked down to a small stream. The water she understood. Knowing it would flow out to the sea, she started down to it when she was lifted skyward.
A rope tightened around her ankle as she flew up, cursing to the seven suns as she did until she was swinging to and fro. Her long wavy hair brushed the ground, now disturbed thanks to the trap she set off. She wrapped her flailing leg around her ankle to steady herself and waited until she moved slowly. There was no way of getting out of this. She had tried before on the deck of the Jolly Roger - much to the amusement of her father and Henry. Instead, she crossed her legs and waited for her captors - no doubt her friends from the clearing - to join her.
Their approach was swift, slinking out of the shadows. The Archer didn’t have his bow raised. In fact, it was slung over his shoulders. His face with twisted with a smirk, his lips pulled up. Zarina felt like flipping him the bird, but she wasn’t certain it would have the same effect as in her world.
‘That was quite the effort. We’ve never had anyone out run us that far before,’ he said, tilting his head.
‘You can chalk it up to experience,’ Zarina bit back. ‘Now, let me down.’
‘We still have to arrest you,’ said the Archer as the same man from before pulled out the cuffs.
At least she thought it was the same man as before, the two thugs bore a striking resemblance to one another now she thought about it.
‘You know, you should really work on those sideburns,’ she said as one of them stalked towards her. ‘I hear the girls love ‘em.’
The stoic man slashed his blade to cut the line. Despite being prepared she crashed to the floor in an unceremonious heap and unattractive groan. After straightening out, she moved to a cross-legged position, gazing up with her hands resting her lap.
‘So what does the Queen really do with magic users?’ she asked, flicking her eyelids.
The Archer rolled his eyes. ‘I told you.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, tucking her arms further into the nest of her legs.
‘Well, you are about to find out,’ he replied as he nodded his head at the cuff bearing man.
The other moved towards her and hauled her up while his brother cuffed her. They were none too gentle as they pulled her arms around. All the while she kept her eyes trained on her captor. Her defiance brimmed to the surface. He was amused. Chuckling as he was given the key.
‘So who are you?’ she asked. ‘Might as well given into a dying girl's request.’
Another smirk crossed his lips. The type of arrogance in his eyes that suggested he always got his way. ‘Roland of Locksley,’ he said, bending into an extravagant bow with his arms out. ‘And you are?’
‘People call me ZJ,’ she said, ‘or just Zee.’
Roland nodded his head. ‘Zee,’ he repeated. ‘Fine with me, but the Queen will know your name. Where are you from, Zee?’
‘A place where stories are often left untold,’ she rapped off. Tip number two was to never reveal where she was from. ‘I was fleeing someone.’
‘And ran straight into us.’
‘The irony isn’t lost on me,’ she shot back. ‘Well, Roland of Locksley, lead the way to my inevitable doom.’
--//--
After two days of forest trekking, the Dark Palace roses from the trees, dominating the landscape. She’s seen pictures of it many times. It dominates the early part of Henry’s storybook given it was Regina’s stronghold. It was also once the home of her family. Her Grandmother grew up here, and it was built for her Great-Grandmother. It’s hard to appreciate the palace though. Her feet ached with the walk, blisters forming on the balls of her feet. Glam high street boots not exactly sensible attire for the journey through the forest. The cuffs around her wrists caused her pain as the rough metal rubbed at her skin.
She had listened carefully to her captors, discerning that the long-time occupier of the palace was known only as The Dark Queen. The two thugs called her it under in undertones. It didn’t take a genius to work out they were uncomfortable with the situation they were in. Seeing the place brought a bubble of panic to the surface. Her bravado was dying as they arrived in the courtyard where guards lined up in dark uniforms with swords strapped to their sides. It looked ostentatious. The guards bowed as Roland passed. The young man had some level of position at the palace.
Above them, the huge double doors opened to reveal a greying old man. He might have been normal sized for all Zarina knew but in the surroundings, he looked like a dwarf. He was dressed in formal morning attire complete with tails that flapped when he moved. He looked harassed, and perhaps a little worried as he called Roland’s name, using the title of Sir.
Sir Roland of Locksley.
Zarina remained still as the man ran to them, getting a little puffed out as he dashed to the stairs. ‘Is this she? The portal jumper?’
Roland’s face dropped in a little bit of surprise before he schooled himself. ‘How does Her Majesty already know?’
The seneschal looked at Zarina, his grey eyes flicking over her. ‘The Queen had a vision. One that set her to bed for a night and day.’ He settled on looking her right in the eye. ‘She wishes to see you.’ Then he looked to Roland. ‘Uncuff her Locksley. This woman is a guest of the Queen.’
Her captor gave the seneschal a dubious look. Holding his look, they seemed to be fighting something out, but the seneschal won with the younger man backing down as he pulled the keys from his pocket. It was clear who had the authority here. It was almost painful when the metal came away. Zarina’s wrist were red and a few layers of skin had been rubbed away. Her eyes became doleful as she looked at Roland.
‘If you will follow me, Miss…?’
‘Zee will do,’ she said, turning to the seneschal. ‘Just Zee.’
The seneschal nodded his head. ‘Zee. Follow me, ma’am.’
Zarina glanced at Roland. He shrugged as she followed the older man.
‘And what do I call you, Sir?’ she asked.
‘It isn’t Sir,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘at least not to guests of Her Majesty. Mr Cogsworth, or just Cogsworth.’
Her steps might have faltered where she one of her fellow teachers from Portland, but she maintained his pace through the halls, glancing at the tall onyx pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling. ‘What is this place?’ she asked, trying to get look at Cogsworth to see if he was particularly clock-like in any mannerism. He was thinner than both his film counterparts.
‘It was originally built as the summer palace for Queen Ava,’ he said, ‘before becoming the stronghold of The Evil Queen. But it is the home of Her Majesty.’
‘Who is this Majesty, Mr Cogsworth, I have only heard whispered names by Sir Roland’s cohorts,’ she said.
‘The Stabbington’s are to be ignored, they were found guilty of a crime and are working off their debts,’ he said. ‘Now if you will just wait here ma’am, I will introduce you.’
Two huge doors were pushed open to reveal a grand hall. Onyx covered the floor, but great marble pillars held up the ceiling. At the end stood a chair on a dais. The queen, clad in black pants and a jacket sat in the shadowed space. It was almost as if that space was cursed not to let light in despite Zarina being able to see little dust motes dancing in the air. Cogsworth crossed the space quickly as Zarina lingered, resisting the temptation to fidget with her fingers. She took a deep breath. She was the next in line of a family of heroes and she would hold that up.
‘Might I present Lady Zee, of the Land Without Magic,’ he said, giving an extravagant bow, his arm shooting out in her direction.
She took a deep breath. ‘You are the daughter of heroes,’ she whispered as she tossed her black hair back.
Her back was ramrod straight as she walked into the room. The great room was worthy of admiration, but she was utterly fixated on the slender woman. As Zarina walked the length of the room, the Queen rose, clasping her hands behind her back while crossing her legs at the ankle. Her angular face caught the light; sharp cheekbones and her chin jutted out. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She was pixie-like in every way.
Zarina paused half way into the room. Her heart pumped against her chest as she met the green eyes rimmed with silver as she stepped into the light.
The Dark Queen looked down at her, face expressionless as Zarina found her courage. This woman wasn’t just any old story. Zarina had seen this woman plenty of times inside her brother’s book. She had flicked back to that part of the story with some sort of sickening interest.
A piece of Storybrooke legend.
A dark incarnation of someone good.
Zarina’s world turned in a great pulse of magic as her cheek met the onyx floor.
Summary: Twenty-Six Years after the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, Emma Swan and Killian Jones’s only daughter is swallowed up by a portal where she gets caught up in a surprising mission that tests everything everyone thought known about a terrible battle that cost the life of the Saviour shortly after Zarina’s birth twenty-five years earlier.
Meanwhile, Killian and Henry fight to find a way to the missing Zarina, only to find themselves caught up in the same story.
Rating: Teen (but will probably become Mature)
Warning: Contains Reference to a Major Character Death
A/N: This is not a conventional tale. But it’s something that has been knocking around my head for a while. It’s full of some of my headcanon, particularly relating to a CS Child. I know that dealing with the Character Death will be difficult, but all I ask is you trust me. It’s pure Captain Cobra in some place and completely Captain Swan in nature.
Also on AO3
Prologue: Once Upon a Time…
To the world looking in, Storybrooke, Maine had the air of a typical coastal town. The day dawned, the sun rising over the harbour and lightening the gently lapping waves. People made their way to work. To school. To visit family. Henry Mills-Jones was one such person. He rose to the sound of his alarm clock blaring, his bed cold and his head pounding from the long night. However, he pushed through his morning grogginess to push the comforter from his body and throw his legs over the edge of the bed.
For a strapping forty-year-old, Henry was certain he was still too young to be feeling out of it. He rolled his shoulders as he walked over to the desk, looking out the window and down onto the street below. This residential area of the town was always quiet. His eyes moved to a large book open on the desk. The old oak chair creaked as he sat down.
Summary: Twenty-Six Years after the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, Emma Swan and Killian Jones's only daughter is swallowed up by a portal where she gets caught up in a surprising mission that tests everything everyone thought known about a terrible battle that cost the life of the Saviour shortly after Zarina's birth twenty-five years earlier.
Meanwhile, Killian and Henry fight to find a way to the missing Zarina, only to find themselves caught up in the same story.
Rating: Teen (but will probably become Mature)
Warning: Contains Reference to a Major Character Death
A/N: This is not a conventional tale. But it’s something that has been knocking around my head for a while. It’s full of some of my headcanon, particularly relating to a CS Child. I know that dealing with the Character Death will be difficult, but all I ask is you trust me. It’s pure Captain Cobra in some place and completely Captain Swan in nature.
Also on AO3
Prologue: Once Upon a Time...
To the world looking in, Storybrooke, Maine had the air of a typical coastal town. The day dawned, the sun rising over the harbour and lightening the gently lapping waves. People made their way to work. To school. To visit family. Henry Mills-Jones was one such person. He rose to the sound of his alarm clock blaring, his bed cold and his head pounding from the long night. However, he pushed through his morning grogginess to push the comforter from his body and throw his legs over the edge of the bed.
For a strapping forty-year-old, Henry was certain he was still too young to be feeling out of it. He rolled his shoulders as he walked over to the desk, looking out the window and down onto the street below. This residential area of the town was always quiet. His eyes moved to a large book open on the desk. The old oak chair creaked as he sat down.
In the night, he had added several pages to book. The magic had taken over after several hours of trekking through the woods that bordered the town. He flicked through the pages. The illustrations were familiar to him. He had written about the Enchanted Forest many times over. As the realm was no longer desolate, new heroes were beginning to rise in the Kingdom. This new story seemed to focus on a villain.
But it wasn't the story he wanted to be telling.
Slamming the book shut with a huff he went about his morning, playing kitchen tango with Lucy as he readied himself for work. He saw his daughter out the door at eight-thirty for school, reminding her not to dally on her way to class. He was ready ten minutes later. His first class wasn’t until ten. Henry could have remained home for another hour. But Storybrooke had a habit of getting in the way of normal plans.
He made his way down Main Street. Locals looked at him. Sympathetic smiles graced their faces. He nodded in acknowledgement to them as he dashed up the steps to the diner. Granny was far too old to run the joint. Instead, she was enjoying her retirement with the fairies. Meanwhile, the diner had been brought by Henry’s wife. Her changes were occasionally met with hostility, but Tiana’s Place had a steady clientele and a breakfast menu to rival anyone with aspirations of being an all day cafe.
Tiana stood looking down at the heavily wrinkled Grumpy as he groused about his bacon being over done. The dwarf was particularly grouchy after being enlisted on the mass scale search happening behind the scenes of the town. Tiana waved Leroy off when the door bell tinkled. Her lips stretched into a smile when she saw her husband.
‘That’s right, go and make moon eyes at your man,’ Leroy grumped before tucking in with gusto. 'Don't worry about customer satisfaction.'
‘He’s cheerful,’ Henry remarked as he leant on the counter.
The pair kissed in greeting over the countered.
Then Tiana threw a sympathetic glance back at the dwarf. ‘He’s worried. Everyone is.’ She sighed, her expression growing tight.
Henry nodded. ‘Whatever Facilier did should have ended when he was killed.’
‘It’s not so easy to kill the Shadow Man,’ Tiana replied, looking away to her fidgeting hands.
‘Dad sent him to the Underworld with the spell my mom and Zelena came up with,’ he said, reaching up and lifting her chin with his thumb. ‘Hey, pretty sure he’s gone. He's gone from the book.’
Tiana nodded but pulled away before Henry could brush a kiss to his wife’s lips. He frowned as she walked to where two cups to go sat in a cardboard holder. ‘Two double espressos.’
‘Double?’ he queried, taking the cups from her.
‘I know you were up late, and as for your father…’
‘Grandpa said he would try to get him to sleep,’ Henry cut across.
Tiana shook her head. ‘When have you ever know Killian Jones to sleep when a member of his family is peril?’ she asked with a quirk of her eyebrows. ‘This is Zarina we’re talking about.’
Henry took a sip from one of the cups, grimacing as the caffeine hit his system. 'True,' he acknowledged.
Henry left his wife to the influx of customers who appeared to have come from the search parties for his missing sister. He made his way to the Jones House. Killian still occupied the large house that Emma had acquired during her time as Storybrooke’s resident Dark One. Even now, long after Emma’s sacrifice, it was still full of the momentums the couple had acquired in their all too short marriage. Of course, it was also full of the little touches Zarina added. Every time she returned from Portland a new photo appeared in the house.
The most recent were of father and daughter at Storybrooke’s annual Summer celebrations. Henry had caught the picture after seeing them laughing at one float or another.
As Henry entered the house, he saw the picture in pride of place on the fireplace. Snoring on the sofa was his grandfather. Prince Charming had aged some in the last few years, his blonde hair turning grey at an alarming rate since experiencing his fiftieth birthday five years earlier.
Killian, however, was stood looking at a cork board he had been putting together since waking on Friday to discover his daughter missing. Unlike David, Killian had not started to grey. His secret stash of rum brewed from the waters of Neverland stowed in the bowels of the house slowed the process down. Henry had never been exactly clear as to why his dad still drunk the stuff. Nor was entirely sure how he had so much of it left after all these years.
Killian dragged his eyes from the cork board as Henry approached. ‘Any luck?’ he asked as he took the offered cup.
Henry shrugged.
After his initial disappointment in the morning, his contemplation of the words he had produced for the book had got him thinking. No new story came to him without good reason. He walked over to the kitchen table with Killian on his heels. ‘Not sure.’
He navigated his way through the pages until he landed on the newest pages. King Leopold’s Summer Palace rose through the trees in the illustration on the first page of the story.
Once Upon A Time, a Dark Queen rose over the Enchanted Forest...
Speculation Fic - Deep in the Pixie Hollow is a weapon to destroy the Black Fairy. At least, that is what Emma Swan told Gideon....
Her footfall on the stairs woke Henry from his own restless slumber. He finds his mother stood before the TV, an old copy of Disney’s Peter Pan flicking on the screen. He shuffles so he’s stood beside her.
‘Mom?’
‘We need access to the Pixie Hollow to find the Black Fairy,’ she said, crossing her arms and holding on to herself tightly.
‘I don’t think Disney is going to help you, Mom,’ he pointed out turning to head into the kitchen. ‘Not exactly known for its accurate renditions of the stories, is it?’
‘I know,’ she agreed spinning around to face him. ‘But if there is a way to the Hollow in Neverland, well it’s one step closer to getting Killian back too.’
A faint smile up-ticked on Henry’s lips.
--
‘It’s true,’ chimed in Tinkerbelle as she poured over the maps Emma had taken from the Jolly Roger. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at Gideon. She could tell he was doubtful of Emma’s idea, which is why Emma had asked Tink to confirm. ‘Travel to the Hollow from the Enchanted Forest was destroyed when Regina cast the curse. The only way back was through Neverland.’ She turned to Emma. ‘It’s why I was there when we met the first time.’
Gideon glanced at Emma. ‘So, you’ve been before?’
She replied with an icy glare.
‘You won’t be able to get there without help,’ Tink continued. ‘The entrance to the Hollow is guarded. Only a fairy may pass. From there, I can let you in from the other side.’
‘Awfully convenient, isn’t it, that only a fairy can let us in on the other side,’ mused Gideon.
‘The Pixie Hollow contains all sorts of secrets we would rather didn't land into the hands of others like you, or worse still, the Dark Fairy,’ snapped Tink, rolling the map. ‘In fact, given your lineage, you may not even be able to pass. The protection charm was forged with her blood.’
‘It seems that it is settled then,’ replied Gideon looking between the Saviour and Fairy.
--
No one was happy Emma was leaving them for Neverland. Memories of the place might no longer torment her family. But at the reminder of the place, she could see the blood draining from Henry’s face, the concern lingering in Regina’s eyes while Snow looked resigned. Mother and daughter shared a look, a searching glance before Snow kissed Emma’s forehead with a blessing.
Emma glanced at Tink as she walked beside her, trekking up to the mansion with Gideon in tow.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Emma asked as she pulled the doors open. ‘Sure you want to go back?’
‘Are you?’ countered Tink.
The coolness of the ring Killian had given her pressed against her heart. She resisted the urge to touch it. ‘Yes,’ she replied, squaring her shoulders.
--
One thing that Emma could never fully articulate in her mind was the oppressive heat of Neverland. The humid air clung to her skin, forcing her to peel off her coat and top, leaving her in a vest. Tink, however, remained dressed as she was, seemingly already reacclimatized to her previous home.
Emma swung her sword absently. Gideon had returned the Hrunting blade to her before making the journey to Neverland. The weight in her arm felt unusual. When she fought or practised it was usually with a lighter cutlass, but she had to be ready.
Tink led them, her nose to the map with Gideon coming up on the rear. The one benefit was the boy seemed to be afraid of the encroaching forest. She hasn’t told him, but Neverland is a truly fearful place. After the second curse had been cast and she returned to Storybrooke, she had nightmares of this place. Demon boys watched her from treetop houses while covered in the blood of Henry.
Now she’s back with an entirely different mission. A mission that had come to her in the darkest hour, when she thought her sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on her. But when you love someone, you know.
Her thumb brushed the seashell in her pocket. She’d managed to convince Gideon it no longer worked thanks to her own brand of magic. Only she could hear the musings of Killian Jones as he travelled from realm to realm in search of The Land Without Magic. His whispers brought her here.
Emma glanced behind her to see the man keeping them apart.
--
He comes barrelling out of nowhere, running as though hell is on his tail but managing to pull short of where Emma and Tink stand. The pixie’s eyebrow ticks up as they take in the red clad pirate.
‘Blackbeard?’
Emma’s heard of him, of course. A man in ownership of a magic bean or two for the right price. Depending on who you listen to he’s the most fearsome Captain across the realms. He doesn’t look particularly terrifying with his sweat drenched beard plastered across his face. Blackbeard draws his sword.
‘Who in the devil are you?’ he demands. His mean eyes flick between the three of them. ‘I’ve had enough of the monsters that roam this cursed place.’
‘Who we are is no business of yours, Pirate,’ said Gideon, stepping forward, his hand out choke the man.
Emma twists the hilt of her sword in her hand, holding it so the pommel is facing up. With a well-practice, but not often used, move she uses her whole body to bring the sword handle down on Gideon. The unsuspecting man collapses in a heap, releasing Blackbeard from the choke hold. Ignoring the groaning pirate, Emma pushed Gideon over.
‘What are we looking for?’ asked Tink, hunkering down to help.
‘A napkin,’ replied Emma, patting down the pockets. ‘It contains a spell, destroy the napkin, destroy-’
‘-the spell that stopping Killian from getting back to Storybrooke?’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Emma as she pulled things out the pockets. ‘A-ha.’ She held up the napkin Gideon had been using to keep her from Killian. ‘Do you think it will be so easy as setting it on fire?’
Tink shook her head. ‘He’ll have enchanted it to stop you from using it for certain,’ replied the fairy. ‘Here, I’ll do it.’
--
‘Killian.’
His name leaves her mouth in a soft whisper of relief. He only turns after she starts running, catching her when she collides with him. She’s in his arms in seconds, cupping his face then kissing him.
And she’s home.
They’re both home. Right where they found each other in the first place.
So, I just read The Price and it was absolutely amazing. I love how it became like Sleeping Beauty and how awesome was it that Killian as the Dark One fell in love with the princess that he cursed. So amazing, and even though it sucks that Emma and Killian had to leave, I'm glad that they're together and free of curses. Such an amazing story, thanks so much!! -Amy
Thank you so much, Amy, and can I confess, The Price is one of my favourite pieces I’ve written. Thank you for reading x
Pairings: Emma Swan/Killian Jones | Snow White/David Nolan
A freak storm makes it possible for Emma Swan to speak across time with an old ham radio that has been gathering dust since her father’s death twenty years earlier. But the resulting conversations with David from Misthaven have further reaching consequences when Emma discovers her whole life has changed in ways she did not consider when she informed David he was about to die in 1996.
Now father and daughter have to race against time to undo the unforeseen damage caused by David’s ultimate survival, and Emma has to find who is behind a spate of murders that have perplexed the police for twenty years. A spate of murders that did not occur in the timeline where her father died.
Also on AO3 and FF.NET
Previous Parts - Have A Nice Day I | II
A/N To address some remarks that I’ve recently had. This is not a conventional in its portrayal of Snowing, or Captain Swan for that matter. I’ve taken the partnerships and changed them in a few ways that aren’t usually used in the fandom. This is a choice I’ve made with the hope of being able to create something a little different.
Can I ask if you do enjoy it, do let me know with a like, or reblog, kudos’ or reviews. It all means a lot to me.
Have A Nice Day III
22 October, 2016
‘Dad?’
The word left Emma’s voice as a whisper while she sunk into a chair. Her heart pumped erratically with tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. She pressed the corner of her eyes willing herself to calm when the door swung open. Emma looked up as Killian crossed the threshold with a tilted expression of concern.
‘You looked vexed,’ he said as his eyes passed over the scene.
He perched on the table, reaching out to her. She twined her fingers with his, coaxing a smile from her lips as she shifted closer. Killian pulled her into arms, his other hand resting on the base of her spine. Emma took a moment to breathe him in, soaking in the comfort his nearness provides her with.
‘What happened?’ His voice is soft against her temple.
Emma dragged in a deep breath, pulling away from him to meet his gaze. The blue of his eyes seem dark in their concern. sShe tried to give him a reassuring smile while stroking his jaw, the soft hair of his scruffy warm to touch.
‘All this just got me thinking,’ she said, looking down at where their hands were still joined.
His fingers ran up her arm. Emma rested her forehead on his shoulder as the torrent of unexplained emotions attacked her. She pulled back again. Peering into his eyes looking for that bit of strength she lacked to bring the words to the fore. She glanced back to the silent ham.
‘Come on,’ Killian said quietly.
He didn’t let go of her hand as he tugged her along, pulling up the stairs to the porch and into the kitchen. Henry was still up, his thumbs tapping furiously on the control of his PS4 while muttering under his breath about eleven-year-old infidels.
‘Five more minutes,’ she called in his direction while Killian went about making hot chocolate on the stove.
He was a coffee man, but after the last two years of dating then living together, he was well taught in the art of making her favored drink. She set herself down at the breakfast bar, leaning into it on her forearms as she watched Killian work. Normally as salacious smirk would form on her lips as she admired him but her mind was gone until a hot foaming drink appeared in front of her topped with cinnamon.
Behind her, Henry shut off his console and gave them a hasty goodnight. He had long grown out of giving her a kiss goodnight, a fact she sometimes mourned now he was old. She called after him then looked back at the drink as the cinnamon became dark brown as it was saturated with liquid. Killian waited, glancing up the stairs as Henry’s footfall landed on the highest floor. He looked around, coming around to sit on the stool beside her. He waited as she took a sip and wiped the foam from the top of her lip. She sucked her thumb as Killian raised an eyebrow for her. She shook her head.
Killian waited, glancing up the stairs as Henry’s footfall landed on the highest floor. He looked around, coming around to sit on the stool beside her. He waited as she took a sip and wiped the foam from the top of her lip. She sucked her thumb as Killian raised an eyebrow for her. She shook her head.
‘It started working,’ she told him.
He held up his hands. ‘After you said stop I…’
Emma placed her hand on his wrist. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It just kinda started working after I was clearing up in there earlier.’ She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘The guy on the other end was chatting Ball, commiserating the Pirate’s loss but not before they tossed the Yankee’s around the park.’ She sighed. ‘Reminded me of my dad.’
Upstairs the door clicked again. She sighed. ‘He was my best friend, you know?’
Killian nodded, his expression sad. Their fingers twined back together. Killian gave her a comforting squeeze.
‘He was everything to me, the sun, the moon…’ she chuckled off the end of the sentence. ‘Used to drive my mom insane. But then he went undercover. They tried to make it work. They had always been ridiculously in love but six months turned into “just another three” time and again until Mom couldn’t take it anymore. He used to leave me presents in a coffee can after that. Another thing to drive mom insane. Then he died. It was, uh, twenty years ago tomorrow.
‘Shootout. Narco dragged him out of the boot of a car. It had been rolled into the docks.’
Emma pulled her hand free from Killian and ran it through her hair as she looked away. Her engagement ring tugged on a small knot that had formed in the long strands. ‘He was dirty,’ she whispered. ‘In too deep, forgot which side he was on…’Silence stretched out in the nooks of the old house, filling it unbearably with a story she had long tried together. Memories she had tried to quash out of her system escaped and flooded the halls of the very house in which most of it was acted out in the first place. Killian didn’t move as Emma sipped more of the cooling chocolate, but as she reached the bottom, he finally moved.
The silence stretched out in the nooks of the old house, filling it unbearably with a story she had long tried together. Memories she had tried to quash out of her system escaped and flooded the halls of the very house in which most of it was acted out in the first place. Killian didn’t move as Emma sipped more of the cooling chocolate, but as she reached the bottom, he finally moved. He stepped down and moved around so he was behind her before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips press a kiss to her hair. ‘That is the most you’ve ever told me about him.’
He stepped down and moved around so he was behind her before wrapping his arms around her. She felt his lips press a kiss to her hair. ‘That is the most you’ve ever told me about him.’‘Yeah…’ she whispered. ‘I dunno, it still hurts.’
‘’Course it does.’
23 October, 2016
The night passed in a quiet haze as Emma settled into Killian’s embrace with red wine and soft music playing from the CD player. Their conversation turned her mother’s suggestion earlier in the day that they should have a party to celebrate their engagement. Between the two of them, they were sure the turn out would be a significantly large one. The conversation ended in Emma suggesting they just elope to city hall with Henry in toe and go before a judge. The conversation ended in the bed, much the same as the previous night had as they explored each other under the warm sheets of the bed.
However, when dawn erupted, bringing a slew of promised rain thoughts of her father settled in her belly. She walked out to her study. As a child, it had been her room and overlooked the patch in the garden where David Swan would leave her gifts. The damp earth made the place look freshly churned but it could not be so. She hugged herself and continued to stare.
A thirteen-year-old girl who refused to believe that a little stars and stripe flag would never again flutter on a pile of mud stood in her stead.
The phone in Emma’s pocket vibrated, shocking her out of the melancholy thoughts. Graham Humbert’s voice filled the line telling her they had an ID at the morgue. The recently exhumed body had raised some questions as the homicide team waited out the autopsy. Despite it being a Sunday, she knew she had to get over there.
The familiar smell of pancakes and bacon filled the house. Emma reached the bottom of the stairs to find Killian filling Henry’s plate with the first cooked batch.
‘Hey,’ she said, falsely cheerful, opening the cupboard where she stashed pop tarts for morning emergencies. ‘I’ve just had a call about my body,’ she said as she put two in the toaster. ‘Gonna need to head in for the morning. I’ll drop in on my nanna alone. You know how it goes…’
Killian nodded. ‘Aye, the later we leave the more chance we have of bumping into the esteemed Lieutenant,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Got it in one, Captain,’ she said. ‘I just don’t want another one of his scenes in front of Henry again.’
‘Got it in one, Captain,’ she said. ‘I just don’t want another one of his scenes in front of Henry again.’ ‘Of course,’ he said as the
‘Of course,’ he said as the pop tarts came out the toaster.
He saw her out to the porch. Under the roof that shielded the front doors and window from rain, Killian pulled her to him. His fingers gently explored her cheek and jaw as his eyes turned to a shade of concern. She leaned into the touch with a smile.
‘You call me later,’ he said, before pressing a kiss to her lips.
She nodded as she pushed up onto her tiptoes to claim his lips. His kiss was gentle, his arm coming around to hold her close.
‘I’ll see you later, Swan,’ he said as she pulled away to dash for the car.
The drive across town was an easy one, that early on a rainy Sunday. She made it to the Memorial Hospital in less than forty-five minutes and parked up in a space designated for officers visiting the morgue. She was through to Victor Whale’s basement den with the flash of her badge. As a homicide detective, she was well known here. The action was more habit than necessity.
‘Okay, Swan,’ said Whale, quickly switching the screen off on his computer and getting to his feet. ‘Your body.’
‘You dye your hair?’ she asked, provoking an unconscious tick as Whale pushed a hand through it as he walked to his stash of gloves.
He ignored the jibe as he snapped on some latex gloves, and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Looking early thirties at the latest, and dumped in the marsh between eighteen and twenty-one years ago. As I was checking her over, I noticed something and got on the phone to my predecessor, Doctor Henry Hyde.’
‘You ask others for help?’ she deadpanned. ‘Did he give you a verdict on the hair as well?’
This time he pulled a face at her. ‘Yes, and no, he wasn’t so forthcoming. Now, I called the old man because when I mentored under him he went on about some old case twenty years go; a fledgling serial killer who had quite the distinctive calling card.’ He went back to a kidney dish sat on a trolley behind him.
Emma had noticed it, but not paid too much attention. While she could look at a body in situ, there was something about this basement that set her on edge. She pushed her hands into her pockets and curled her them into fists as Whale produced two sets of rosary beads.
‘One was bound around the wrist,’ he explained, holding them out in her direction. ‘The other around the ankles.’
She could feel her face twisting as Whale handled the dirty beads. The clicked together.
‘Ritual?’
‘Not that anyone was aware of,’ said Whale pouring the beads back into the kidney bowl. ‘They called him the “Nightingale Killer”.’
’Sure, I’ve heard of him,’ replied Emma with a shrug. ’Targeted Elementary teachers. Her used rosaries?’
Whale pulled the gloves off. ‘According to Hyde. The information wasn’t made public, and you won’t hear of it in your police training. But all three victims were the same.’
Emma frowned looking at the skeleton on the table, stepping forward with a grim sense of renewed interest. ‘Maybe there were four,’ she mused. She looked up at Whale. ’Thanks, Doc.’
He nodded. ‘And I noted congratulations were in order?’ he said, looking at where her hand sat in her jacket pocket.
She pulled her hand out to look at the ring. ‘Yeah,’ she said, her smile morphing. ‘Thanks.’
The archive box she had called in for was on Emma’s desk by the time she arrived in Downtown. On a Sunday morning, the team could only be described as skeletal. She gave her fellows a warm smile with Belle calling out her congratulations as she poured over her case work. Despite it all, Emma could not help the warmth she felt as she showed off her ring to the younger detective. Belle gushed for a moment, with a query as to when the big day would occur before letting Emma get on her way.
The box on Emma's desk had not been touched in some time. She ran her finger through the dust that had accumulated on the top. Emma peered at the box. The date made her frown, but she opened the box, spluttering slightly as she inhaled the twenty-year-old dust.
The department had been working on a program to digitalise the old files but cutbacks meant they would be lucky to get to ninety-six before the end of the century. The paperwork was covered in familiar signatures. As she sorted through the paper her eyes fell on Captain Humbert’s signature on several occasions. The old manilla files began to stack up on her desk, sorted by the victim in the order of their bodies being found with a singular sheet for her Jane Doe at the end.
Her phone buzzed. Emma pulled the device out of her pocket to see a message from Killian. His casual curiosity as to how it was going was double speak for asking how long she was going to be. They had plans to celebrate their engagement with Henry and her mother in the afternoon. If the medical examiner came back with a name for their victim, however, that plan would be nixed. She put as much in her text, leaving off that the victim may have been part of an unsolved serial killer case, knowing it would only worry him.
It was barely eleven when she was done, content that she’d be able to get through it come the morning.
Ruth Swan lived in a gated community for the retired in Golden Heights. Her apartment looked over the beach the district was named for. Emma found the aging matriarch of the small Swan family sat in a rocking chair in the midst of knitting a blanket on the porch as the sky tried to clear. The soft click of needles stopped when she looked up to see her only grandchild at the bottom of the steps. Her crinkled face rose with a smile.
‘Your mother called,’ she said, setting aside the work with a soft clatter on the wooden table. ‘I hear that lovely young man has finally put a ring on your finger.’
Emma held out her hand for Ruth to examine. The old woman perched the glasses that had hung from beads around her neck. Her crinkled hand enclosed hers as she laughed with the sort of delight only old ladies could muster.
‘Of course, back in my day, you didn’t live with him before you marry,’ she said.
‘Might explain the Generation X infidelity streak,’ she deadpanned as she sat next to her.
The old woman chuckled. ‘Maybe,’ she agreed.
Emma lapsed into silence, gazing out over the dying riot of colour Ruth cultivated from Spring until Autumn. Ruth hummed to herself as she picked up the knitting needles. The scratch of metal was oddly comforting.
‘It’s always a hard day,’ she said after a lengthy silence between them. ‘You’re Da would have proud, you know. Detective with Sergeant on the horizon and a fiancé who treats you like a Princess.’ Ruth smiled fondly.
Emma looked away, shying from Ruth’s compliment of Killian.
‘He does,’ she insisted. ‘You and Henry. If I didn’t know any better, you’d think they were father and son.’
Emma’s embarrassed smile morphed into a warm one. ‘Yeah,’ she said softly, then glanced at Ruth. ‘Nana, do you think Dad got in too deep.’
Silence again filled the space bar for the click of needles. ‘Yes,’ she answered as a car swung into the street. ‘But I don’t think he forgot which side of the line he was on.’ The car came to a halt. ‘He loved you and Snow more than anything in this world. He would never have forgotten that.’
Emma drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair as Lieutenant James Swan, Emma’s uncle and her father’s older twin, emerged from the car. As Lieutenant of a neighbouring precinct, Lieutenant Swan was well respected if a little feared. He had mentored her when she had been a beat cop before she made Detective; a move he didn’t seem to approve of particularly when she was placed under Captain Graham Humbert.
‘If anyone had said the same of James though…’ she trailed off as the man in question pulled off a pair of aviators of and tucked them into his pocket.
Emma’s gaze moved to her uncle. She often wondered if her father had survived what sort of man James would have been, but the way Snow once put it, he was already on his own path. He strode to the house, eyes falling on Emma as he mounted the steps to the porch.
‘Hello Emma,’ he said, his eyes looking over her. The coolness was enough to freeze over the space between them. ‘I didn’t expect you here.’
’Nonsense,’ said Ruth rebuking his nonsense. ‘It was her birthday two days ago, and I told you she was visiting today.’
James shook his head and walked into the apartment, the door clattering shut behind him as Ruth rolled her eyes. ‘It’s always antsy on this day,’ she said by way of explanation.
‘We all are,’ Emma replied as she got to her feet. ‘I really have to head back, Nana,’ she said as she bent to press a kiss to Ruth’s cheek. ‘We’re having lunch with Mom, and I’ve already had to leave those boys to their own devices since this morning.’
’Such is the job,’ said Ruth, as she got to her feet. ‘But wait here a moment. You can’t think I forgot to get you a little something, can you?’
Emma huffed out a laugh as she followed the old woman into her home. She stood in the living room as Ruth bustled off into the bedroom. She turned her back on James who had already helped himself to the whiskey and sat on the sofa.
‘You shouldn’t really be here,’ he said in a sharp voice. ‘You always remind her of him.’
The strange jealousy that always tinted his voice when David Swan was mentioned curled around his words. Emma frowned and looked down at her tan leather clad feet. It always courted her mind as odd that Lieutenant Swan would show envy towards his supposedly dirty cop brother who left a trail of death and heartache in his wake.
Before Emma could counter with anything, Ruth reappeared with a small wrapped package. ‘It isn’t much,’ she declares.
When it’s opened, it is a small, slightly tarnished, silver spoon that had been a Christening gift to her father. She looks at it for a moment. If she’s honest with herself, it was a tradition she hoped would never have to apply to her. But as James has never felt the need to procreate, Emma is the only grandchild Ruth has ever had and it's important to her.
Pairings: Emma Swan/Killian Jones | Snow White/David Nolan
A freak storm makes it possible for Emma Swan to speak across time with an old ham radio that has been gathering dust since her father’s death twenty years earlier. But the resulting conversations with David from Misthaven have further reaching consequences when Emma discovers her whole life has changed in ways she did not consider when she informed David he was about to die in 1996.
Now father and daughter have to race against time to undo the unforeseen damage caused by David’s ultimate survival, and Emma has to find who is behind a spate of murders that have perplexed the police for twenty years. A spate of murders that did not occur in the timeline where her father died.
Also on AO3 and FF.NET
Have A Nice Day I
Have A Nice Day II
22 October, 1996
Static filled the one bedroom apartment given to David as part of his assignment. He stared at the ham radio he had been speaking on. Weeks had passed since he had last made a connection. Normally he found himself chatting ball with other nearby Pirates fans. However, talking with Misty was decidedly the oddest call he’d been on for a while. Her predictions for the Yankee’s, which seemed entertaining as he glanced up at the telly replaying the highlights, were the last of his concern. However, she had been adamant that William’s performance would turn the tide. Misty recited her prediction with precision. In the back of his mind, he pondered the worth of a flutter on what she said. Yankees hadn’t won since his own childhood, not that the Pirates had recently trumped the Yankees. In fact, the New York team had trashed Storybrooke’s resident heroes the last time they met.
It wasn’t until the end of the call when anger filled her voice that concern rose. His name seemed to bother her in a way it shouldn’t. How many David’s in Misthaven’s were there? Yet it struck an angry chord.
People were strange. He of all people knew that.
He took a long drag on the cigar he’d been chewing on through the conversation. His eyes fell on the Backstreet Boys cassette covered in cellophane next to the radio. He had talked it out of Graham Humbert what Emma was into these days. His life undercover didn’t permit his contacting her for fear of exposure but he kept his word over the secret messaging system with Emma. She used it less now she was older. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t uphold his end of his end of the bargain. Especially on her birthday. Humbert’s veiled warning about going back to the house sat with him but bringing up Emma with the impatient Misty only strengthened his resolve.
Besides, he was close now. It wouldn’t be long before all this would be over.
He picked up the cassette and rolled it over in his hands a few times before heading to the meagre kitchen. He pulled out the empty coffee canisters he saved for his messages to Emma. He shoved the tape in as he switched off the TV with his hip in the middle of a murder report.
The drive to Tenth Street from his downtown dive didn’t take long. The half light of the dawn made his labour easy but he was conscious of Snow waking up to find him there. He made quick work of the hole thanks to the rainfall over past couple of days - so bad it had delayed the start of the World Series. After dumping the wet mud back in its hole, David stepped back to pick up the flag he had left just out of reach.
The small stars and stripes fluttered in the soft breeze of the morning. He watched it for a moment, not wanting to do this. Every time he plunged the little flag in the ground his heart broke remembering Emma’s cries begging him not to leave. It made so much sense at the time.
A car went passed, forcing David out of his reprieve. He looked at the watch on his wrist. It was nearly seven meaning Snow would be stirring anytime soon. He chanced a glance up to the window of Emma’s room. It had been two years since he had last seen his daughter properly. Fleeting glimpses was all he was afforded in moments where he could tear himself away for his work. The three-month gig had stretched on far longer than it ever should off. He dashed back to his car, parked on One-Hundred and Fifteenth East, and hunkered down as the neighbourhood came to life.
At eight, kids started pouring out their houses. Long time neighbour, August barrelled out his house, waved off by his ageing father and headed down to knock on Emma’s door. The two had been firm friends since Kindergarten.
Snow appeared with a warm smile on face, offering him a wrapped up package that seemed to be a little ritual. She turned back to the house, no doubt calling on Emma. In the years since he had left, Snow had cut her hair into a short pixie crop thus hiding away the tumbles of black hair of her fairy tale namesake. She placed her hands on her hips as she stepped back in the house, but Emma hurtled around from the back with her knapsack on clutching at the coffee can he had buried.
Emma had grown into a beautiful child with golden hair streaming out behind her as she ran to join August. Snow looked at her daughter clutching the muddied can. Her eyes flared as Emma shoved the can in her hand while setting out with August, running off to join the herd of children making for the elementary school.
David hunkered down further into the battered seat of his car as Snow looked out. her eyes searching the street for her missing husband. Her expression was cold, biting down on her right cheek as she shook her head.
Meeting for drinks was no easy endeavour for an undercover cop still trying to keep tabs on his roots. Luckily for David, his marks moved in Misthaven and Arendelle District freeing up other area’s of Storybrooke to meet Graham Humbert. The Golden district in the south of the city offered for a safe haven to share a drink with a fellow officer. But they still had to keep it discrete.
The dingy dive bar offered the game on a crackly little screen overlooking the tables. The commentary was speculating on the overall demise of the Yankee’s to the scattered sound of cheers and jeers. The Bookie in Misthaven had practically howled with laughter when he put down twenty on the Yankees winning. Yet Misty had been so certain, he was sure of it. Besides, what was twenty if they lost?
Graham passed him an opened Bud. David silently toasted his mate before taking a long sip.
‘So, what do you think about these Nightingale murders?’ David asked as he swung the bottle from his thumb and forefinger.
Graham shrugged, but the tension had built on his shoulders as soon as he said 'Nightingale'. ‘It’s a bitch, I know that. The top brass is already in a tizzy about it. Press are already likening him to Zuso.’
David screwed his face up in disgust. ‘He’s targeting teacher’s isn’t he?’
Graham gulped a few mouthfuls from his bottle. ‘Elementary. For now,’ he confirmed, watching David’s expression. ‘But Snow is going to be just fine. She’s smart.’
David nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. He grimaced, looking back at the label of his bottle. It peeled at the edges as he turned his mind to Emma and Snow. His wife’s cold look was etched in his mind.
‘How was the party?’ he asked.
Graham shrugged as a gang of dolled up Braves tumbled through the door. ‘Come on, Dave, you know how Snow does it. Em was smiling ear to ear the entire time.’ He had to raise his voice over the flurry of sound from the newcomers.
David nodded, glancing away to disguise his remorseful expression.
‘It was a nice party.’
Despite himself, David’s lips hitched into a smile before he put the bottle to his lips again.
‘Look, man,’ Graham continued when David looked back. ‘Word if you’ve been swinging by the house.’ He paused while David took a gulp from the bottle. ‘I don’t know the details, but Snow asked me to ask you to stop.’
‘Right.’
‘I think Em is starting to ask questions, hard questions that Snow just can’t answer,’ Graham paused to drink from his Bud before lowering his voice. ‘You’ve been under for three years, Dave. I wouldn’t be the only happy to have you back in the real world.’
David nodded, resting his chin on his curled fist. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘I’m working on it.’
Graham’s eyebrows shot up, a smile forming on his lips. From the outset, he had been against David’s foray into undercover, particularly when the process got longer and longer. But he had stood by his friend.
‘When?’ he asked, then shook his head. ‘You can’t tell me when can you?’
David shook his head, a quick expression.
‘But it’s good, man,’ Graham said. ‘Really damn good, but you’ve got to stay safe. They say the most dangerous time after starting is getting back out again.’
David nodded his agreement. Graham drained his bottle before clapping his hand on the shoulder of his friend. With a final smile, Graham slunk off into the crowd pulling up his collar. David turned his attention to the TV, leaning back on the bar taking note when he saw William’s name for the Yankees on base.
The commentator remarked on the players as some of the crowd called for William’s, who had already managed to score two ribeye’s, to nail the Braves to the boo of Atalanta fans…
‘… Misty, hey, how did you call that homer?’ David asked when she finally answered after ten minutes of hailing her on the frequency from the night before.
‘It happened twenty years ago. In Ninety-six,’ came the reply.
David looked at the end of his cigar in bemusement. ‘Earth to Misty, it is Nineteen-Ninty-Six.’
He sucked on his cigar as she recited her predicted outcome for tomorrow’s game in Atlanta. ‘Are you screwing with me,’ she asked after declaring the Yankee’s would run the table from the top of the tenth for the rest of the Series.
‘Me?’
David half choked on his words then grabbed his open Bud.
‘David from Misty. A daughter who tries to talk to Astronauts? And you aren’t trolling me? God damn it.’
Misty sounded angry as the line went dead. David shook his head. ‘I’m not what-ing you?’ he asked at the alien phrase she had just spat out.
‘Okay, David what? What is your last name?’ Misty demanded, cutting him off with an imperious tone. He took another drag of his cheap cigar.
‘Swan,’ he said after blowing out the smoke. ‘Not that it’s any of your business. You know what Misty? You are weirding me out right now.’ He moved to turn when Misty’s voice implored him to wait. Her tone had softened back to what she had sounded like in the first part of their very early morning exchange.
‘What’s your call sign?’
‘It’s WQ2YV,’ he said.
The line went dead. Only the sound of static came from the radio as he leant back in his chair, first guzzling some Bud then another drag on his cigar which he set back on the box, missing the ashtray.
‘What’s your daughter’s name?’ Desperation tinged her voice.
‘I’m out,’ he said.
But her voice relented as he got to his feet, turning away as she recited what she claimed was her name, the name of his daughter, his name and the address of the house he had visited earlier in the day. Misty, or Emma, claimed it had been her home since before her parents split.
However, if hearing Emma’s name was enough to incite rage, hearing her address turned that into blind anger.
He slammed his hand on the transmitter button as Misty recited his method for sending Emma presents. ‘Who is this right now?’ he demanded, spittle flying from his lips in rage.
‘In a coffee can,’ she finished as he sat back in shock.
No one but Emma or Snow would know that.
Silence.
Only the sound of his breathing filled the air. There was clattering over the line. The sound of a metal chair hitting wood.
‘You burnt the box.’
David looked up to where his cigar sat, ash falling on the wooden casing. ‘Damn it,’ he muttered.
‘Tell me you did not just burn the box?’
Emma’s voice wailed over his actions as he picked up the cigar and wiped it clean.
‘David?’
He picked up the mike, clutching it so hard his nails dug into the palm. His knuckles went white and he could barely hold the microphone straight as he levelled his voice. ‘I want you to listen to me right now. If you contact me on this frequency again, if you contact me again then so help me God, I will hunt you down and kill you if you go near my family.’
He was deaf to the pleas of his name as he switched the radio off. He sat down with a sigh as the light of the dial faded it out, but Misty’s call of his name resonated in his ears until his bottle of whisky dulled his senses.
I loved your Butterfly Effect story and I can't wait to read more! I just noticed as I was reading that you used "their" everywhere "there" should be and I thought I'd let you know. Keep up the good work!
Pairings: Emma Swan/Killian Jones | Snow White/David Nolan
A freak storm makes it possible for Emma Swan to speak across time with an old ham radio that has been gathering dust since her father’s death twenty years earlier. But the resulting conversations with David from Misthaven have further reaching consequences when Emma discovers her whole life has changed in ways she did not consider when she informed David he was about to die in 1996.
Now father and daughter have to race against time to undo the unforeseen damage caused by David’s ultimate survival, and Emma has to find who is behind a spate of murders that have perplexed the police for twenty years. A spate of murders that did not occur in the timeline where her father died.
Also on AO3 and FF.NET
A/N: So this is inspired by the CW’s Frequency. Some of this fic will mirror that, some of it will mirror OUAT. I will confess it might take me some time to write this as Frequency is only part way through, and of course, there will be the usual deviations from that story, from OUAT. I hope you enjoy.
NSFW from the outset.
Have a Nice Day I
21 October 2016
Laughter filled the master bedroom of a corner house in the suburbs of Storybrooke as the first shades of dawn lightened the room. Emma straddled her lover, grinding herself against his groin while running her fingers through Killian’s thick chest hair. A deep chuckle resonated in his chest as he thrust up to match her moves before pulling her down so their bodies were flush. Killian’s fingers massaged the base of her spine as Emma wriggled against him.
‘You are a true siren, love,’ he whispered while threading his fingers into her blonde hair as she gasped. He sucked at the pulse point under her jaw while her eyes drifted shut.
They moved together. Emma taking the lead atop of him as they continued their exploration of each other. Killian’s fingers grazed over her sensitive skin as her core clenched around him. Her release exploded from her lips in a soft sigh of completion. Killian stroked her heated skin. In a swift move, flipped them so she was beneath him. His lips devoured her as he continued to move within her. Emma’s cries intensified but were swallowed by his kisses as her toes curled into the soft cotton sheets. Her fingers struggled to find purchase on his back, now slick with sweat, but she clung to his toned shoulders.
Somewhere in the distance, Emma’s phone chirped in a shrill tone.
‘Ignore it,’ muttered Killian, reaching down, sliding his hand over her thigh until he reached her knee. He pulled her leg up over his hip, changing the angle so she cried out.
His movements grew erratic as he reached his own climax. He groaned out her name, burying his head in the crook of her neck as she came down from another orgasm. Her fingers slid over his slick back as he came back to his senses, kissing her languidly. She’d give anything to stay put, twisted in the sheets of her bed with this man but she could hear the house coming to life. In an attic room above them, she could hear the plodding feet of her fifteen-year-old son as he began to stir for the morning.
‘I should get up,’ she whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.
Killian groaned, making no effort to move bar to look at her. Their noses nudged each other. ‘Who says?’
‘The little birdy on my phone that is kindly reminding me I have an eight thirty start,’ she said between kisses. ‘Not to mention Henry is getting up.’ Again, Killian only responded with a growl while grinding his hips into her. She giggled. ‘Come on, Jones,’ she chided him. ‘He’s going to his grandmother’s tonight. We’ll get all evening and tomorrow together.’ Her voice lowered to a seductive sotto as she arched beneath him in a teasing manner.
‘I know,’ he replied, nipping her behind the ear. ‘But can you blame a man for wanting to stay put when he as the most beautiful woman in the universe in his bed?’
She chuckled as he nibbled a row of kisses down her throat, over her neck towards her breasts. ‘Ours,’ she reminded him as he nipped at her nipple while threading her fingers through his hair. ‘Killian,’ she moaned under his ministrations. ‘Come on!’
He chuckled, an obscene laugh but rolled off her, landing on his back beside her. His blue gaze swept over her, an intense look which sent a pleasant shiver down her back. She smiled back before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed while tugging him with come-hither eyes.
Enticing Killian into the shower with her had not taken much in the way of persuasion when she sauntered out to the en suite. Before they had met she had not been one for giggling, but she laughed in his arms as hot water sluiced over their bodies. Even now, a good twenty minutes after he had left her to start on breakfast, the smile on her face was perfectly obscene. Down below she could hear the faint melody of music from the radio below the chuckles of her boyfriend and son as they fell into their early morning ritual. Any reservations she once had about Killian moving in had been quickly put to rest. The last three months had been the sort of domestic bliss she thought she’d never find.
Her eyes flicked over the dresser searching for her badge. It was wedged in Killian’s underwear drawer. She pulled it open to free the leather wallet, but her attention was quickly diverted when she saw a suede covered box. The black material shone in the pale October light. A shaking hand moved forward to pick it up. It opened with a click to reveal an antique square cut diamond ring. She gasped. It wasn’t the sort of thing you just gave as a birthday present. It usually came with a man on one knee with promises of forever.
Emma gasped, barely keeping in a squeal at the thought Killian Jones wanted to keep her forever. She closed it softly and nestled it back amongst the underwear that had barely covered it. Emma sank onto the bed, rubbing her hands together at the thought of the ring, and others, adorning her finger.
Downstairs, the phone rang. She heard Henry answer it.
‘Mom,’ he yelled, ‘its the station.’
‘Be there in a sec,’ she called back forcing her to no longer think about the little box, nor to envision how she would feel in his arms promising her forever to him.
The smile was too wide on her face to even contemplate it being a no.
With that in mind, Emma dashed out the room and galloped down the stairs to where Henry stood with the receiver.
‘Swan,’ she said as she put it to her ear, smiling as the smell of pancakes and bacon assaulted her nose intermingled with a hint of the Columbian coffee Killian favoured for the mornings. ‘Ah, you’re kidding me,’ she said to the man on the other end of the land. ‘I’ll head straight out there in twenty.’
She dumped the receiver down and headed out to the kitchen where the two men of her life were still flipping pancakes. Killian had adored a flowery apron her mother had given them as a moving in present while Henry was streaked in flour. She chuckled. They both looked up.
‘Happy Birthday,’ they chorused with Killian pushing a coffee over the breakfast bar.
She ignored it in favour of making a beeline for him and kissing him regardless of her son’s slightly disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Emma couldn’t help it, but she grinned into the kiss, inhaling the fresh mint scent of the shower gel she had rubbed into his chest.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered before stepping away to give her son a one armed hug. ‘Thanks, kid,’ she said as Killian began to plate up the breakfast.
‘You don’t live here anymore.’
Emma’s dumbstruck voice at the sight of her mother in the living room brought to her a halt. Snow looked at her daughter with a smile before walking over to give her a hug. She wrapped Emma in a huge hug pressing a kiss to her cheek.
‘I know, but can’t a mum drop in on her birthday girl?’ she asked, as she pulled away but kept holding on to her upper arms.
‘Of course,’ Emma replied, a smile crinkling on her lips until she caught the wafted of lasagne hit her name. ‘But you aren’t supposed to cook.’
Snow waved off her daughters attempted at a rebuke. ‘Why can't a Mom cook her girl a dinner on her birthday?’
‘Because she’s been crawled over by third graders all day,’ quipped Emma without missing a beat as she peered down into the oven to see the white sauce bubbling over the layers of pasta. ‘Where’s Killian?’
Snow chuckled as Emma straightened and threw her badge on the breakfast bar. ‘I sent him, Henry and August to get beer from the garage an hour ago. I’ve not seen them since.’
‘Bromance,’ the two women chuckled together.
The Snow’s lined face became serious as Emma went to the fridge to pull out a half full bottle of white wine. ‘So you going to tell me why you’ve been burning out my phone all day?’
Emma poured the wine into stemless glasses and handed one to Snow. She shrugged. ‘Okay, don’t go mental,’ she said taking a sip of her cool beverage.
‘You’re pregnant,’ Snow blurted out.
Emma raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head while tilting her wine glass in a sardonic manner.
‘Okay, not pregnant,’ Snow conceded but mirrored Emma’s expression.
‘I found a ring,’ said Emma, lowering her voice, glancing out the window in the direction of the garage. ‘In his underwear drawer.’
Snow pulled her arms free, clapping her hands on her cheek as a soft cry of delight escaped her lips before cupping her daughter’s cheeks. Snow’s eyes were bright as she searched her daughter’s face for her reaction.
Open book.
Snow’s face lit up. ‘Oh, Emma.’
Emma’s face relaxed into a smile, a small tear forming in her right eye. ‘I know, right?’
Snow enveloped her in a hug, pulling her tightly so Emma’s chin rested on her shoulder. ‘You’re going to say yes, right?’
Emma pulled back, arching her eyebrow. Killian had been the first person she had ever allowed to inhabit her living space… ‘Mom,’ she said, drawing out the word as she disengaged, but the lilt in her tone made Snow smile.
Emma tapped her mom’s shoulder before turning her attention to the outside when she saw August emerge on the roof of the garage. ‘What the…’ she muttered as she pushed open the door.
‘August!’
Emma’s voice echoed through the back yard as she jogged down the steps, her glass of wine still in hand. A small amount of it splashed over her hand. ‘What are you doing?’
He paused. Then spun as carefully as he could on the slippery slate of the roof with the sort of look on his face that Emma would usually warrant as good enough cause to refer to the DA’s office. He held up his bottle of Coors Light in cautious greeting as Killian’s voice echoed up through the hatch.
‘You nearly had it there, mate!’
‘She’s pissed,’ August yelled back, his head tilting in the direction of the hatch.
‘Who’s pissed?’
‘Emma,’ replied August not taking his eyes off her.
She stood with her arms crossed, staring up at him with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning just want to the three men were up to. She’s yet to hear Henry’s voice, but she knows he’s in there with Killian. The young teen might never admit it, but he worshipped the ground Killian walks on and never misses the opportunity for mischief-making August inevitably brought with him.
The door to the garage flew open, with Killian eyeing her warily. Behind her, Emma became vaguely aware of her mother opening the door to stand on the back porch. Killian’s blue eyes flick from her to her mother and back again.
‘Did you know there is an old ham radio in here?’
She scoffed but tightened her arms over her chest while her lips crease into a frown. ‘Of course,’ she replied tightly, with a glance over her shoulder. If Emma felt tense, it was nothing compared to her mother who stood as still as a statue behind her with a glass of wine halfway to her mouth. ‘I’d rather you leave it be,’ she said.
‘Oh come on, Swan!’ Killian half moaned. ‘It’ll be fun.’
She shook her head as she stepped closer to him. Her hand reached out for his. His fingers twisted with hers. ‘It was my father’s.’
He blinked, his face turning to one of understanding as he squeezed her fingers. ‘Okay, love,’ he said. He twists to look at August who has been watching the whole exchange. ‘Get down from there mate, before we have to call the EMT’s.’
‘Right, Captain!’ he calls back before picking his way back along the roof.
Killian’s attention is back on her. ‘I didn’t realise,’ he said softly, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek.
She nods her head, then glances over to her mother, watching as she takes a large mouthful of wine. Her heart sinks at the reminder that sometimes the pain never goes away. It rarely comes up now, but something about her father occasionally blindsides her and Emma is thirteen years old, hearing the news for the first time.
The pain must show on her face because within seconds Killian has wrapped his arms around her as Henry appears. He glances at him mother but makes a beeline from his grandmother. Snow smiles at the sight of Henry as he takes the steps two at the time. Emma hears her mother make some reference to his height and how he just seems to keep growing.
August appeared a moment later, holding out a beer for her with an apologetic smile. ‘Happy birthday, Ems,’ he says as she takes it. ‘Shall we get this party started?’ he called up to Snow as he strode back to the house.
Getting the party started involved soft music, her mother’s lasagne and wine. August’s wife and daughter joined the party once she was home, filling the garden with laughter as a game of soccer began in earnest leaving Emma, Snow and Tink chuckling at their endeavors as the sun went down and the night cooled. Snow hauled Henry off half an hour after August left leaving Emma and Killian on the back porch under the fairy lights she had decorated it with a few weeks after he moved in with her. Instead of sitting at the table, they move to the love seat wrapped in scarves and covered in a blanket. Emma finds contentment in his arms, head against his firm chest as her mind wonders back to the morning.
He drops a kiss on her head. ‘You didn’t mention how your day went?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to open a cold case.’
He winces beneath her, so she covers his hand. Being a detective in the Police Department of a busy city like Storybrooke is not an easy job. Sometimes it’s even hard to be the partner of said detective, but the ring she found indicated Killian is more than ready to commit. He lifts her hand to his lips and adorns her knuckle with a soft kiss. She nuzzles him in response.
Silence falls between them. It’s the comfortable sort shared by two people who are happy to be at one. She sips her wine as anticipation settles in her belly.
‘Emma?’ his voice is low, and she more feels her name than hear it.
She turns to look at him. Killian’s dark blue eyes sparkle in the twinkling fairy light. It occurs to her, this close, just how handsome he is. Even the small scar under his eye enhances his otherwise symmetrical face. Beneath her, he shifts, hand plunging into his pocket and pulling out the ring she had found earlier. Despite expecting it, she says his name softly, her eyes fixed on the twinkling diamond. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees this perfectly kissable lips curve into a smile.
‘Emma, will you marry me?’
Silence falls between them as Emma reaches out for the ring pinched between this finger and thumb. A giddy laugh escapes her lips. She turns back to him, their eyes meeting with matching smiles on their faces.
‘Yes,’ she whispers before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. ‘Yes.’
22 October, 2016
The storm woke her. Emma had never been able to sleep through the crackle of electricity that filled the air. It didn’t help she was somewhat restless by the coursing adrenaline in the aftermath of Killian’s proposal. She could have cuddled into his warm body, maybe coaxed him out of sleep with the promise of more celebrations to commemorate their new status. Her eyes flicked down to the ring on her finger. Its weight was unusual but comfortable. Emma flickered the kettle on and pulled out the hot chocolate and cinnamon from the cupboard.
The stormed thundered over her head, the sky around her house lighting up as streaks of light hit the ground. She jumped a little as the house shook a little and the kitchen light flickered. She turned just in time to see a bolt smash into the antenna August had been hooking up. Emma yelped.
‘Jesus fucking christ,’ she muttered as she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on over the camisole she wore.
Emma ran out into the night, her feet getting wet in the flip flops she wore. She barely noticed as she ran to inspect any possible damage. Emma burst through the door to the sound of static crackling on the old ham she had previously admonished Killian over with the hint of a voice over calling out over it. Emma paused at the sight, it’s dial lit up. She hadn’t turned the damn thing on since her vain efforts to reach out to her deceased father in the ether twenty years ago.
Before she had found out just want kind of a man he really was.
‘CQ. Calling CQ. This is WQ2YV. Is this frequency clear? This is WQ.’
The voice continued calling out as Emma walked towards it. Her face pinched in a frown as she got closer. She pressed down on the microphone. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, hey! Hey, so what’s your call?’
Emma blinked as she sat in the chair. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even know this thing was working.’
‘That’s okay,’ said the voice. ‘So where you from?’
‘Misthaven, Storybrooke,’ a grin caught on her face.
The mystery caller chuckled graciously. ‘Get out of here! Dockside, born and bred! You a Pirates fan?’
‘I was,’ Emma replied. ‘I don’t really follow baseball anymore.’
‘Ah, but you still gotta love watching the Yanks getting slapped around, huh?’ continued the good-natured caller.
Emma chuckled. ‘Okay, who doesn’t?’
‘Yeah, I mean, Maddux was just incredible tonight.’
Radio static filled the garage as Emma sat back. She clenched her fist for a moment. ‘Greg Maddux?’ she said in a questioning voice. ‘As in Atlanta Braves?’
‘As in game two,’ he replied in a dour voice as if she were somehow taking the mickey. ‘Come on Misty, you’re breaking my heart here.’
‘No,’ Emma called back. ‘I get it, Yankee’s - Braves World Series. In 1996.’
‘There you go,’ chuckled the caller, the conversation back on track but Emma’s brow furrow.
She leant forward, resting her arms on the table the radio sat upon. ‘As in the third game, Bernie Williams jacks a two-run shot in the bottom of the eights. Yanks take the Series in six.’
The incredulous laugh from the caller filled the room. ‘Right, and you don’t follow ball. Okay, yeah, lets do this, I’m good for twenty on that.’
Emma pressed the microphone. ‘It’s not a prediction,’ she replied as something started to settle in her belly.
‘Look, Misty, you seem nice, you do but my thirteen-year-old kid has more chance of taking to shuttle astronauts than than Yankee’s do of taking the series.’
Emma froze, much like her mother did earlier in the day at the mention of her father. A memory filled her of trying to call Columbia, or Endeavour, or Discovery with her dad as her mother watched on with a bemused expression. But there were no Shuttles in the sky anymore, and the Yankees ended up dominating the rest of the decade in the World Series. If her memory was right, the Cubs were about to go toe to toe with Cleveland. At least, she was sure that’s what August had told her fiancé who was indifferent about the news. Killian simply didn’t enjoy the America variety of sports when there was British Rugby to sate his appetite.
‘Your daughter?’ she questioned, unable to help herself. ‘What was that about your daughter?’
‘Oh, she turned thirteen today,’ his mirth dying away. ‘So I guess she’s on my mind, you know?’
Emma paused, the fingers she had been drumming on the table pausing in mid-air. Above her, the thunder rumbled shocking her out of her train of thought. She looked up, wondering if the storm had been going on the whole time. It would explain the static…
‘What’s your name?’
‘David.’
‘David from Misthaven,’ she deadpanned.
‘Yup,’ he agreed, but the warmth from his voice had completely gone. ‘Finally something we can agree on.
‘Who the hell is this?’
But static flooded the line. Emma adjusted dial multiple times over but each frequency was filled with the same noise.
Summary - Soulmates don’t always find each other, so despite the mark Princess Emma carries, she tries to move on with her life. Until she wakes up to find the sky the most vivid blue. But it’s not the result of the man in her bed.
Modern Royalty & Soulmates AU.
Also on AO3
It seemed to Princess Emma of Misthaven that the whole world was obsessed with her love life. The media learnt several years ago she was branded with the iridescent mark that indicated there was a soulmate. The media of her little European Country hunted the world looking for the Prince or Duke who was her match. They never found him.
Besides the mark wasn’t a guarantee she would actually find that person. At twenty-eight, Emma had long accepted her fate. She felt ready to settle with the next best. After all, those with the mark who didn’t find their mate were perfectly capable of settling down and loving someone else. She met Walsh, son of a British Duke, over an appraisal of some pieces his family’s heirlooms. A few lunches later she found herself enjoying his company. He hadn’t brought her a world of vivid colour but she smiled at his text messages, laughed at his jokes and felt a reasonable amount of attraction toward him.
It felt like it could be enough. She could push the little streak of emptiness away. She had been doing so for the better part of ten years already. Emma could do her duty and push it away for the rest of her life.
So when her vision became awash with the most vivid of blues, Emma could barely breathe. The night out at the London club had been normal, dancing to the exotic beat and sipping the best cocktails the city had to offer. She had gone to bed without being able to see the colours but now the sapphire in her ring was the brightest she had seen. Hues of blue were visible in the drapes. When she pulled them back from the floor to ceiling windows Princess Emma was looking at the sky. A gasped escaped her lips, thankfully unheard by Walsh who still slept soundly.
One thing she always remembered was her mother telling her how beautiful the light blue of the sky was on a clear day. Here in London, she was looking up at for the first time. Sadness crept over her. The man in her bed hadn’t caused it. Somewhere else in the city, someone else was waking up to the sky for the first time wondering just when the prerequisite skin to skin contact had been made to activate the response.
Checking Walsh was still sleeping, she slipped into the bathroom to lift the tank top she had worn to bed to check the mark on the slope of her breast. She examined it under the artificial fluorescent light but she couldn’t tell if there any change. Emma rolled down her top and closed her eyes. A tear escaped over her cheek as she sat on the toilet.
When she wasn’t busy smiling for the press in exquisite gowns and glittering crowns, Princess Emma worked for one of Europe’s most prestigious Art Dealers using her moniker, Lady Emma Swan. Work and pleasure had brought her to London. The constant reminder of the blue sky and the tingle in gut reminded her the pleasure aspect would not be fully realised. She decided to put the thought aside as she had an appointment. Opting for a simple two-piece black dress with matching jacket she twisted her hair into a chignon and applied the barest amount of makeup as Walsh finally stirred. Two cups of coffee had wiped away the shock of earlier but her greeting of the half-naked man was stilted. He didn’t say anything about it if he noticed.
Emma sat in the back of a hackney carriage, drumming her fingers against the leather of her handbag as the car trickled along with the rest of the early morning traffic. Her mind was replaying her evening at the bar; Mojito’s in hand, laughing with Walsh and dancing amongst the crowd. Nothing seemed to strike her. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the contacts until she found the number of the Palace Archivist. Her thumb hovered over the number but before a decision could be made the cab pulled over.
The London Offices of Monarch Valuations hid behind a discrete door on Bond Street. They didn’t advertise their presence to keep their client base small and well-curated. Emma punched in her passcode and slipped through the glossy black door into a huge hallway. Emma visited this place once or twice a year when her expert opinion was needed. This particular case had excited her no end. The pictures of the pieces had taken her breath away. If they were what she thought, it would be monumental for her family. If they were what she thought, there would be an interesting tale to listen to from the current owner, Sir Killian Jones.
The London agent, Arthur, was reportedly smarting over the need for an expert opinion but he stood in reception waiting for. In his pristine Armani suit with snowy white shirt, she knew he was attempting to make an impression for their client. He held out his hand in greeting.
‘How was the journey, Lady Swan?’ he asked ushering towards the door he opened.
‘We took a First Class EuroLink from Paris,’ she replied as the door clicked closed. ‘It was enjoyable.’
Arthur nodded his head. ‘I did the same with Gwen to surprise her for our wedding anniversary. I take it you’ve seen the pieces?’
‘Indeed,’ she said with a nod of her head. ‘I’ve contacted Lady Belle French at the Palace. She is ready to receive the goods to confirm authenticity.’
The older man led her to his office where he took her coat which he hung on a coat stand. He picked up a large Manilla folder with two pairs of white gloves, offering the smaller pair to her with the folder.
‘I am in no doubt the Misthaven Royal Family are keen to see the return of these pieces,’ he said, now leading her back out the office towards the valuation suite. ‘I must warn you, Sir Killian is a bit aloof. Not exactly conventional for a man of his rank.’
Emma flicked to the profile of the buyer noting his former naval rank as a Commodore before an honourable discharge. She sucked in a breath as a glossy white door opened hoping she wouldn’t be subjected to any further surprises. She stepped in, her eyes taking in the royal blue décor before landing on a man lounging in a throne-like an armchair flicking through a broadsheet.
He seemed awfully young to have attained a knighthood. He directly contrasted with Arthur. Sir Killian wore dark jeans, a shirt with an indecent number of buttons undone and a leather waistcoat. A matching jacket was thrown over the chair. Emma glanced back at her colleague. Arthur shook his head. At the sound of the door closing, he looked up.
Arthur took the lead walking into the room ahead of Emma. ‘Sir Killian,’ he said, ‘might I introduce you to Lady Emma Swan from our Misthaven branch.’
She held her hand out for him. She expected him to shake but his hand curled around hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips. The moment they touched, she was overwhelmed with sensation as the bright shades of yellow flashed across her vision. Trained to hide the surprise, she was able to school her face but Killian Jones had no such luck so she gave him an encouraging smile.
‘A pleasure, Sir Killian,’ she said with a soft smile pulling her hand free. ‘Let’s get started shall we?’
A sound of an argument reached her ears while she was on the phone to Belle. She had been on the brink of telling her confident of the developments but when her name came up she ended the call. She strode to the door and pulled it open to see Sir Killian and Arthur having a heated discussion.
‘Gentlemen,’ she hollered, ‘is this really appropriate behaviour?’ She strode down to them. ‘What appears to be the problem?’
Arthur turned to her, his face flushed with annoyance. ‘Sir Killian wishes for you to finish the handling of the transaction, however, it is against the contract agreed,’ he said.
Emma nodded in understanding. ‘Of course,’ she said, turning to Killian, pausing as she noted how he was drinking her in. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to oversee the finalisation of the transaction due to a potential conflict of interest. I can assure you that you remain in good hands with Mr Pendragon.’
Killian was about to speak when her phone chirped in her pocket. Emma ignored it, wanting to hear his agreement, to hear the deep voice that washed over when they had spoken in the valuation rooms. However, he nodded his head as her phone went off again.
Emma pulled her phone out, her face falling just a little bit to see Walsh’s name with the message he was waiting for her at their reservation. She had completely lost track of time over the course of the morning.
‘I am truly sorry, but I’m running late for an appointment,’ she announced as she pocketed her phone. ‘Arthur, if you email the paperwork, I’ll okay it this afternoon.’ She held out her hand to Killian. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Sir Killian.’
She didn’t want it to seem like she was fleeing, but she couldn’t help but hasten. Emma was already aware Killian planned to follow his trinkets to Misthaven so she would see him again. But she had Walsh to deal with. She had her family to speak to. She had her own sense of shock to wrestle with. However, Emma couldn’t help but look back at the man, take in his face, statue.
She could barely think of anything else as the taxi whisked her away to The Ivy. It wasn’t far away, but given she was running late she felt she should make the effort to get there as quickly as she could. As the taxi pulled away, her newly found soulmate emerged from Monarch’s door. Part of her felt the urge to stop the taxi and walk back to him.
She owed Walsh her time and explanation.
It didn’t go well. Her chance to explain thrown out the window when he got down on one knee. Her heart thumped in her chest as she looked at the platinum ring complete with a huge princess cut diamond. Emma’s fingers curled into the cloth napkin as they became the centre of attention. Her age-old mantra of keeping up with appearances dictated she yes to make the rest of the meal run smoothly.
‘I can’t,’ left her lips instead.
He looked crushed. She looked away. Their relationship had been wonderful, three years that had been happy, but everything had changed. Had he asked twenty-four hours earlier she’d have thrown herself into his arms. Instead, she reached out blindly for the stem of her glass, looking anywhere but at the man still at her feet and sipped the two hundred pounds a bottle champagne.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said as he finally got to his feet.
He slammed the box on the table, grabbed his coat and headed for the exit. Emma signed, taking another sip as whispers gradually turned to conversation. The diners wouldn’t forget this particular lunch date. She picked up the box and slipped it in her handbag indicating her desire for the bill with a flick of her wrist.
She found him pacing their hotel room when she arrived having gone directly from the restaurant. He had pulled his purple tie off, popped a few buttons, sparing her a glare as she closed the door.
‘What’s going on?’
Telling him the story was easier than she thought. He sank into his seat with a shocked look on his face. He gazed off into the middle distance while she remained stood, her feet beginning to hurt from the hours she had spent in the heels.
‘So this is it? Three years count for nothing?’ he demanded. ‘You are mine.’
‘I’m not anyone’s property,’ she replied.
‘That’s not entirely true,’ he said. ‘You belong Misthaven, Princess. How do you know some naval officer with a fancy title will be any good for the country?’
‘Fancy title?’ she repeated. ‘A bit rich coming from Viscount Conroy, isn’t it?’ She sighed. ‘I’m truly sorry Walsh.’
She checked into a different hotel the same afternoon.
Her phone beeped as she contemplated calling room service having arranged a flight home for the following morning. Once she checked the flight manifests she would have no reason to remain in the city. Although, her eyes slid to the folder she had chucked on the desk. Gross misconduct aside, she could just send a text – How does one just come across the priceless, stolen jewels of Misthaven? Sounds like an exciting episode of Cash in the Attic. She couldn’t help but smirk at her own joke. After settling into her new room she had fired off an email to Belle asking for all the details that could be found with regards to the missing pieces.
There had been no notification on her phone that Belle had acknowledged the email. But then her work phone blipped with an incoming email. She picked it up, noting it was from Arthur with the manifests. Copied in on the email was Sir Killian Jones. She couldn’t help the smile spreading over her lips as she reached for her laptop so she could read the forms. They were expertly filled out, already bearing Belle’s electronic signature and instructions, along with valued worth with the universal symbol for priceless. Her reply was short, noting if Belle was happy then she was before adding her email signature which included her business contact details.
The next notification came as she changed into a pair of roll cuffed jeans, ballet flat shoes and a floaty blouse. This was a text message to her work number.
What does a high-flying valuation consultant do on her evenings off? KJ.
Contemplate the room service menu. ES.
She put her phone down with a shaky breath and bit down on her lip. The enormity of it was astounding yet now she knew she still couldn’t picture him in the bar. It must have been such a fleeting moment, bumping into each other on the dancefloor or at the bar. Emma rapped her fingers on the desk trying not to look at the iPhone.
Would a glass of wine be considered fraternising with a client, Lady Swan? KJ.
Strictly speaking, you aren’t my client, Sir Killian. ES.
He sent her details for a bar not far from the hotel. It was walkable and having confirmed her attire was appropriate, she took a leisurely stroll. She repeated over and over again that just because they were soulmates it didn’t mean they had to rush head first in. Besides, she’d have to tell him she was a Princess, heir to the throne of her little kingdom. She stepped into the bar, ushered in by a uniformed doorman, her eyes going wide at the décor. Her lips parted then lifted into a smile. While some colour remained in the muted shades she was used to, the new additions were miraculous.
‘It’s rather amazing, isn’t it?’ Killian whispered into her ear, his prosthetic hand resting on the small of her back.
She turned to glance at him. ‘It’s like being woken up,’ she said, their eyes meeting. ‘You have very blue eyes.’
A smile lifted on his lips. ‘Come on my Lady,’ he said, ‘it may be considered rather presumptuous, but I ordered red. I find it better for sipping while enjoying conversation.’
He guided her to a table in a booth and offered out her chair before sitting opposite. While he had changed out his earlier shirt, he was now wearing deep midnight blue beneath his waistcoat. He poured the wine into a small glass while she took a moment to absorb him.
‘I can’t say I expected this,’ he said once the glasses were full. ‘Evidence suggests if you don’t meet your soulmate by thirty, the chance decreases to almost zero.’
Emma nodded. ‘Even less if you socialise in small circles,’ she said. ‘It must have been a surprise this morning?’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I’ve travelled the world and never seen the sky as blue as it was this morning.’ He took a sip from the glass. ‘What about you?’
‘I was pretty much resigned to the idea three years ago we would never meet,’ she said. ‘Another statistic suggests that if you already know someone who has a soulmate, then you even less likely to find yours.’ Emma tilted her head. ‘I’m still trying to wrack my brains to figure out when we encountered one another last night. There have been terrible stories of soulmates literally bumping into one another, not realising until morning but never finding each other again.’
Killian nodded thoughtfully. ‘That was before the creation of Craigslist and the like,’ he said, ‘although I doubt someone of your position would look there.’ He chuckled at her offended look.
‘I’ve used Craigslist,’ she said. ‘When I was in the States.’
‘Please tell me it wasn’t personal ad,’ he groaned.
She shook her head. ‘A friend came home from a Thanksgiving’s gift from her mother that was, well, interesting.’ Emma shrugged. ‘Someone wanted it for the two-hundred-dollar price tag we put on it.’
‘And that’s when you found your calling as a Valuation Consultant,’ he replied with a grin.
‘I was Curator at the Getty first,’ she said, ‘well a Junior Curator, then a Valuation Assistant. I’ve been a consultant for the last eighteen months.’
Killian nodded. ‘Missing Misthaven Crown Jewels are a specialist subject for you, I take it?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ she replied. ‘Lady Belle, the Court Historian and Archivist, is the expert. I have enough preliminary knowledge on the matter for my opinion to count for something.’ She sipped her wine again.
‘Enough so that you can’t take over the transaction in Misthaven,’ he observed, a wry smile.
‘There aren’t many Misthaven nobles who aren’t related to the royal family –’ Killian grinned at her over his glass ‘–and Mr Pendragon has, of course, already told you,’ she said softly.
He nodded as she huffed a soft laugh. ‘His phone call was less than complimentary about it,’ Killian said as he topped up her glass. ‘Why the secret identity?’
‘Why not?’ she replied, then smiled. ‘I just wanted to have the chance to have a life without all the trappings of my title, although Lady still gets its fair share of notice.’ Then shrugged. ‘I make no apologies for it.’
‘I wasn’t about to suggest you do,’ he said. ‘Had you kept yourself to your Palace we may never have met.’
‘Not with you hording away the missing Jewels of Misthaven,’ she said. ‘Where did you find them?’
‘I’m still trying to establish the connection but they were found amongst the possessions of my father’s estate,’ he explained but she noted the tightness in his jaw as he spoke.
‘I see,’ she said, then gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Well, I’m sure it will be a thrilling tale when you unravel it. I know Belle will be most interested.’
‘Aye, love,’ he said.
They walked back to the hotel slowly after eating pizza in a small Italian place that made them wait for a table at the bar. He admitted as they shared a pot of olives and breadstick that he was impressed she didn’t throw her title around.
‘I’ve had enough public fervour for one day,’ she confessed, gazing off into the middle distance towards the streets where people still walked before they were seated.
As they walked, he draped his coat over her shoulders. Emma curled her fingers around the hem and pulled it closed. She smiled, their eyes catching. While the evening had been nice, silence fell between them which was a strange cross between awkward and comfortable. Emma looked down at her feet. In her ballet flats, her feet looked oddly dainty next to his booted feet.
‘We don’t have to rush this, do we?’ she asked him quietly as they rounded the corner to her hotel. ‘I know the soulmate thing means there is an inevitability about this but…’
‘You have a boyfriend?’ he finished with a lilt that turned it into a question.
Emma shook her head. ‘He… it…’ she sighed. ‘He proposed at lunch.’ She twisted her fingers as she came to a halt. ‘It didn’t go well. He’s, erm, not as nice as I thought. He knew, of course, about the mark. Everyone does. But as I said, I was pretty much resigned we’d never meet. It was okay, good even.’
‘I do understand, you know,’ he said, placing his hand over the fingers she was still fidgeting. ‘I haven’t spent the last thirty-five years of my life wandering around looking for you Emma.’
It stings a little, her breath catching.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said, his thumb stroking her knuckles.
She brushed it off. ‘I get it too,’ she said. ‘It’s not like we stumbled on one another at University like most of them do. But Walsh, or Viscount Conroy, he isn’t, and we’re no longer.’
Their gazes remained locked. Her lips hitching up because no matter how much more she needed to learn about him she could help the happiness she felt at finding him. Then he stepped into her personal space, his eyes flickered to her lips and before she knew it she pushed up onto her tip toes. Their lips met in a sweet, chaste kiss. There was no flash of bright colour but warmth trickled down her back complete with the urge to open up to him.
She stepped back. There as disappointment etched in Killian’s face for a moment before he nodded.
‘Taking it one day at a time,’ he intoned.
Emma nodded. ‘I have to talk to my parents,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty sure they are expecting me home with Walsh and his half a million carat diamond ring, not my soulmate.’ She sighed. ‘There is so much for us to contend with as well.’ His expression turned sad. ‘You could decide that no matter what you feel me the pressures of my life, my title, would be too much.’
Killian placed his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly. ‘Then we will work this out, Emma,’ he said. ‘You’re right.’
Relief was painted on her face.
‘So what does a Princess do for lunch?’ he asked, returning her smile.
‘Sadly, this one will be on a plane back to Misthaven,’ she said. ‘I have an official engagement tomorrow evening; presenting a series of community awards. You’ll be in Misthaven late tomorrow yourself. You should be getting an email from the esteemed Mr Pendragon anytime soon with Belle’s updated plans.’
Killian’s eyebrows rose. A shy smile crossed her lips.
‘You don’t think I could truly be expected to wait a whole week before I see you again?’
Summary - Captain Emma Swan of the Starship Storybrooke is two years into a five-year mission to explore space. Over the last two years, she has crossed paths with her former rival at the academy turned pirate Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger. However, her most recent pursuit of him finds her following him into dangerous territory and a rescue mission that uncovers a terrible secret on an abandoned planet on the edge of space.
Based on the edit set by @shipsxahoy here
A/N - If you wish to be tagged on future updates, let me know. (This particular chapter was beyond hard to write, but I hope it is worth it)
Part One Here | Part Two Here | Part Three Here |
On AO3 / On FF.NET
Chapter 4 - In the Dark of Night
Despite sparring over the methodology of their escape, Killian succumbed to Emma’s plan. Of course, it had taken a swift swipe to his side followed by a scandalous look from him as he collapsed into her arms to achieve it but he’s down. For the moment she has the upper hand. Their pixie like friend skipped over, peering down at him with concern as Emma fumbles with the medi scanner.
‘Damn it,’ she muttered, looking at the readout. There is nothing untoward there but Tink didn’t know that.
‘What wrong?’ Tink asks.
‘He was hurt in a crash,’ she replied. ‘I can’t take him much further.’
Tink stands up, cocking her head to the side as she looks up to the darkening sky. Emma follows her gaze. She doesn’t doubt they’ve been told the truth about how the others hunt. It’s Tink’s part in this she doesn’t understand. As they followed the girl through the maze of back alleys, Emma recognised the attempt to confuse them. However, Elsa’s last instructions help her a great deal to keep orientated – the suns are on the left when facing north.
‘Is there somewhere here we can take him?’ Emma asks as she looks at the high rises. She’s more familiar with this sort of surrounding being from the Core Planets.
‘Not safe here,’ Tink replies. ‘But have root, for pain. I go get it.’
Emma backed Killian in a wall which he slid down, following her routine perfectly as Tink flittered off down the narrow streets. Instead of pulling out her medi scanner, she pulled out her PDA to scan for anything following them.
‘You know, Swan,’ Killian grunted as he pulled out the rum flask. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there is more than a little pirate in you based on that move.’ He put the flask to his lips then pulled it away in disgust. ‘I’m out.’
Emma raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised it lasted you this long,’ she said, drawing the pain relief from her belt and dosed him up before he could protest about using it on a real injury again. ‘Besides, you don’t end up a Captain in Star Fleet by playing entirely by the book.’
He raised his eyebrow, giving her a crooked smile. ‘So, are we being followed, Captain?’
‘Not so far as I can tell,’ she replied. ‘I want to head, so far as we can, in the direction of the beacon. You good to move?’
‘No thanks to you,’ he shot back without missing a beat as he tried to haul himself to his feet. Emma bent down and grabbed him by the elbow to haul him up. ‘Nightfall isn’t far off,’ he observed.
Emma shook her head. ‘According to this, we head down here and keep moving east. We’ll find it.’
Emma led them with the aid of her PDA to a twelve storey high-rise nestled between two skyscrapers. The dilapidated building looked uninviting particularly as it sat in the shadow of once shiny office and leisure blocks. Like the tower, they had spent the previous night in, the air was thick and musty as they walked down the corridor. The doors of the corridor were all closed leaving something of an eerie picture remnant of horror films. Light from Emma’s pen torch bounced off the peeling walls.
‘What do you think?’ she asked the light lingered on the stairs. It looked to be in a worse state than the tower.
‘We remain down here,’ Killian decided as he walked to the closet door. ‘with an exit route.’
Emma nodded, shining the torch in his direction. He kicked the door by the lock. He needed have bothered. The door shattered into the splinters landing at his feet.
‘Nice one, mate,’ she said, imitating his accent as she flashed the light into the room.
Whatever retort he had no his lips died when the light fell on skeletal remains bent over a table. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered as he walked in. ‘What do you think Swan? Same as the others.’
She already had her medi scanner out, while she flicked her torch around, the light landing on similar remains on a sofa by the window. Beside her, Killian powered up his gun, the whine of the plasma filled the room drowning out the sound of her scanner. She glanced over her shoulder at him but decided against calling him up on it. He was a pirate after all. Besides, she trusted him not to do anything stupid. She blinked in surprise at the thought. Less than forty-eight hours ago she had marched through the corridors of her Star Ship cursing having ever heard the name ‘Killian Jones’.
The scanner blipped. ‘Same as the others,’ she agreed while she crossed referenced it with her earlier findings in the tower. ‘Medically more healthy than the tower occupants.’
‘Apart from the dead bit,’ deadpanned Killian. ‘What do you think happened?’
His voice was curious rather than attempting to force her to explain it. His cocky demeanor seeming to have fallen away in the last few hours.
‘I’ve heard of this sort of thing happening hundreds of years ago,’ she said, putting the device away. ‘Terraforming events or the ecosystem suddenly collapsing, but this seems to be something different. It’s like they sat down and just died.’
Killian raised his eyebrows at her as she walked to the slumped remains at the table. Most of it had collapsed to the floor over time. However, the skull sat in a bowl, hands and arms on the table with the pelvis and femurs on the chair. Then her eyes went to the sofa.
‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘If he died first, then wouldn’t she do something about it? Or vice versa?’
‘Are you hypothesising whatever happened to them was instantaneous?’
She shrugged, wanting nothing more to check the buildings but they were swathed in Neverland’s darkness. Emma had never been a fearful woman, but the hairs on the back of her neck pricked upon hearing a howl she had not heard the night before. Suddenly the gun she had been carrying on her shoulder seemed an attractive option; its status as an embargoed weapon could be damned. Killian had paused too then his blue eyes sought hers. He looked around, his gaze predatorial as he held out his hand to her. She went willingly, their fingers curling together as if the last four years had never happened.
He led her to a room of the main room they had found. Evidence suggested it had once been a bedroom with a broken down bed. It looked like a young woman’s room, with trinkets on the vanity table with posters peeling from the walls. There was a dark space against the wall of the window were a bedside table provided extra shelter.
‘Did I willingly follow you to your room,’ she asked as he slid down the wall to sit in the darkened space.
Killian chuckled. ‘I carried you,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting the drug to take effect that quickly. I thought you’d be back on board the Storybrooke when it hit you.’
‘So the cuffs?’ she asked as she settled beside him, her knees brought to her chest.
‘Well, I had to infuriate you enough you’d follow me,’ he said nonchalantly. He tilted his head to her. Even in the gloomy darkness of night, she could make out the blue irises against the white of his eyes. ‘You have to know by now I’d never hurt you, Emma.’
She paused at the sound of her name on his lips. Even at the Academy, he had rarely called her anything but Swan, preferring to call her by the assumed surname she had taken upon joining Star Fleet. ‘Emma’ had been reserved for the quietest of moments. She sighed, arms winding around her legs as she rested her chin on her knees. She stared out into the darkness as silence created a vacuum. For the first time, in a very long time, Emma didn’t feel like a Star Fleet Captain anymore. If anything she feels like the heartbroken woman who had fought tooth and nail to get through her exams after Killian left.
‘But I did,’ he sighed as the darkness stretched on.
‘It was a long time ago.’
His hand touched her shoulder. A tentative trace of his fingertips. ‘You have no idea how many times I wanted to come back for you,’ he said softly. She looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowed despite the gloom. ‘But I knew how important Star Fleet was for you.’
She turned back so her eyes were on the wall opposite, shrugging her shoulder out of his touch.
‘You did good, Swan.’
‘I don’t need your praise,’ she said.
‘I guess not,’ he replied.
The night drew on in watchful silence. Pushing down her feelings was easy enough for Emma as she focused on her job. Between her feet, her PDA scanned their surroundings, reporting back on the lifeform movements it detected in their vicinity. She watched the blips with fascination, noting how they hunted in a coordinated pack. Where they not hunting for her she’d be interested in their prey. They were close.
Evolution suggested some of their senses would be heightened due to their nocturnal instincts, not to mention the physical changes they had observed in Tink. She held on to her Phaser. She had adjusted the setting to kill. It was rare she felt the need. It wasn’t just Star Fleet’s pursuit of justice that inspired her, but her deep set morality.
‘If they come here,’ she said, finally breaking over two hours of silence as the blips got closer, ‘I have one charge for a kill shot. You need to be ready to prime your plasma gun.’
Emma looked over her shoulder. He didn’t speak, but nodded in acceptance, his eyes falling closed for a moment as his head dipped. Her Phaser whined as it charged. She backed up against the wall, loath to this close to him after their earlier conversation. Emma slipped her PDA into her belt as the window rattled. Then the moonlight was blotted out with a screech. The shadow revealed a cross between a monkey with batlike wings. Emma started, her hand going to Killian’s, his fingers curling around hers. Her breath caught. His too, a slight rattle from the drain in his chest. Another screech went up then the moonlight returned. Emma held her breath, her fingers crushing Killian’s.
The first sun rose without further incident but her hand remained entwined with his. He sat with his eyes closed but he wasn’t sleeping. The threat of attack was too great but Emma was conscious if she didn’t get him onto the Storybrooke he wouldn’t last much longer in his current condition. A check of his medical status in the night, as she listened to his rattling breath indicated an infection was developing. Having less than sterile tools to use no doubt contributed to that. While her med kit contained a board spectrum antibiotic he needed proper treatment.
‘S’okay love,’ he said, breaking the silence as if he had heard her train of thought. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. Survived worse.’
‘Yet that doesn’t fill me with confidence,’ she said, pulling out her PDA.
They were approximately three blocks away from the signal Killian had picked up in the Jolly. Throughout the night, she had thought through the coding she would use to transmit to the Storybrooke. Like all Captain’s she had a specially designated distress code which would be the best thing to transmit. However, she also needed to communicate she had Killian with her.
‘I think we’re going to have company when we get to the signal,’ she continued, showing him the PDA readouts.
A rakish smile lifted his lips. ‘Good job we have these fully charged plasma guns,’ he said, patting his weapon.
‘If we don’t need to kill them, we shouldn’t,’ she replied, finally untangling their fingers and getting to her feet.
Once again, she shouldered the gun then dialled her phaser back to stun. Shooting down primitive lifeforms was not something she was keen to do. Killian, however, seemed to hold no such concerns. His gun whined as it booted to life. It contained over three hundred shots of radiated plasma that could drop a platoon of men in moments. Looking at him as he fiddled with the dials, her hand cold from where they had unlaced their fingers, filled her with sadness. It occurred to her once they got back on the Storybrooke he would be arraigned. Taken from her again. Even if they found evidence that proved his dismissal from Star Fleet was a sham his arrest warrant was longer than her arm; piracy, smuggling, larceny. Not to mention wanted in connection with a murder.
‘Ready,’ she asked when he looked up again.
‘Aye, love.’
Emma peered into all the windows she could as they passed the high rises. The same scene was repeated in several reception areas; remains on sofas where people may have been waiting. Killian mused, as he followed her gaze, that her hypothesis was correct.
‘It’s like,’ he said, glancing up at the sky, ‘the atmospherics were shut off and they were left to die. If that is the answer, the next question would be why would anyone want to do such a thing?’
Emma shook her head. ‘I have little doubt the records of why such a thing happened have been destroyed. With any luck, the Storybrooke may have surveyed the planet in greater depth while I’ve been here. There might be something to learn from that.’
‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘How much further?’
Emma pulled out her PDA. ‘Another block or so.’
The closer they got the greater the urge was to throw her principals to the wind and charge up her plasma gun. The eerie silence combined with the knowledge they were walking into an ambush made her feel inferior. She knew logically there was nothing she could say or do to these people that would result in their survival. They had both heard the blood lust in the nightly howls as the streets were prowled around them. It didn’t make her decision any easier to stomach. The PDA showed the tribes formation in full now they are close enough. An attack circle around the signal. Their little friend in the middle which Emma wastes no time in pointing out to Killian.
‘Bait,’ he said roughly.
The harsh timbre of his voice helps her make her decision. She pulls the plasma gun around so it rests on her hip, ignoring the smirk on Killian’s face as she activates the weapon. She glances up, throwing him a challenging glare. He’s already likened her to a pirate.
‘You know, Swan,’ he said, ‘there is little shame in doing what you need to save your life.’
‘And you’d know about that, wouldn’t you Jones.’
‘He shot first,’ he shrugged. Then he looked conflicted. His dark eyes flickering over her. She saw the look each time they encountered each other since gaining her Captaincy. ‘Emma, should this not end well, I want to thank you for believing me.’
They were less than a foot apart. Emma felt the air knocked from her lungs as she looked up at him. ‘We’ll survive,’ she replied. ‘We have to.’
The conflict passed as he stepped into her personal space, hand going to her cheek before his lips crashed onto hers. Her fingers curled into his collar as she pushed up onto her toes to better the angle. Killian didn’t hold back as he sucked her lower lip between his lips. His other hand went to her waist as hers wrapped around his neck. The old dance felt bittersweet as they pressed together. Emma wasn’t certain what she was trying to pour into the moment but it wasn’t a goodbye. She didn’t want a goodbye from him. Not while she had the chance to save him.
The broke apart, breathless as their gazes locked. The shattered parts of his heart reflected back at her.
‘We should go,’ she whispered, her breath shaky.
‘Aye.’
Ignoring the flickering emotions wasn’t easy. If he hadn’t been injured, she’d have suggested walking away and coming back to fight another day but Killian didn’t have that sort of time available. They had one chance. Emma took point as she rounded the building up ahead, her gun primed and ready. Tink looked as vulnerable as she had upon their first encounter, sat on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest. Behind her was a shuttle craft. It wasn’t new, by Emma’s estimation it was at least fifty years old. The transponder was clearly inside it.
Tink looked up as they approached. Emma waved down Killian’s gun, a decision made on how she was going to play this.
‘You gone lost,’ said Tink.
‘Shadows came,’ Emma explained. ‘We hid.’
Tink’s expression was sad. ‘I would have looked after you.’
Emma gave her doubtful expression, tilting her head to the side. ‘We know we’re surrounded,’ she said, pulling out her PDA. ‘We’ve been tracking you since last night. Clever trap and bait.’
‘Food, good flesh, doesn’t come often,’ Tink said.
‘No,’ said Emma softly. ‘Not many know about this place. Not to mention the Ji stationed between here and the outer lands.’
Tink blinked but she said nothing. Emma waited then something pricked the back of her neck. Killian called out her name, shooting the direction of the assault, as Emma removed a dart. She looked at it for a moment, the barbed tip glinting dangerously in the sun. The effect was almost instantaneous as the world swum before her, swaying to the sound of her name on Killian’s lips as he caught her with a grunt.
‘Told you having me collapse into your arms was a bad idea,’ she muttered as her body met the crumbled ground.
Her eyes didn’t drift shut as she thought they wouldn’t, instead, she gazed up at the sky, one sun beating down while the other began to rise. Killian stood over her, gun in one hand his PDA in the other. It isn’t going to be much of a fight, she thinks as she loses feeling in her extremities, watching him take aim and shoot. Around her is the pitter-patter of metal against the aging concrete floor. Her head flops to the side to see the brightly coloured darts.
‘Killian,’ she whispers just as a shadow passed over. Suddenly she is hauled up.
Her cheek flopped against the leather of Killian’s coat. They are moving again. Something stirred and she finds the strength to look up. The pixiesque Tink is rushing at them, mouth open wide to reveal a jaw full of fangs with her bat-like wings opened. Emma grabbed her Phaser and took aim, the bolt from it travelling at Tink before knocking her clean over. Her little body doubled over, tumbling head over feet as Killian made it to the shuttle. There was a little ceremony in the way he lay her down upon the cargo deck floor.
Others were coming as he manually pulled at the door. His grunts of pain unmistakeable, a yell of agony escaping his lips as the light was swallowed up. There was a thunk as Killian collapsed against the wall.
‘Swan, you still with me?’
She tried to nod but couldn’t move. ‘Aye,’ she whispered. ‘You need to activate my personal distress code. It is stored on my PDA.’ Her hand rested as best she could on the device tucked into her belt. She sighed as she started to lose the fight with whatever was coursing through her veins.
Killen loped over, heavily cradling his injured side reaching over her body for the device. His fingers brushed hers. Emma’s eyes flicked to his face noting how scraggy his jaw looked. His strength waning. If they did not get onto the Storybrooke soon then they would not survive the night. Then he was gone, heading to the console towards the front of the shuttle.
‘This is going to take some work,’ he said. ‘The tech is positively ancient.’ He looked over at his shoulder. ‘You stay with me, Swan.’
She gave a small flick of her hand to indicate she was still conscious. She anchored herself to his voice as everything around her faltered. Around them was the dull thud of the remainder of the tribe attacking the shuttle. It was designed to break through the atmosphere so it would stand up to wooden weapons and darts. It wouldn’t stand up to the plasma gun that had been left out there.
‘Gotcha,’ said Killian, victorious before he appeared at her side. ‘Swan?’
Her bleary eyes searched for him. She felt his fingers on her cheek. She opened her mouth but his lips brushed against her forehead. A tear welled up in her eye, pooling in the duct before it trickled away down her cheek.
‘Don’t you dare leave me like this, Emma,’ he whispered against her brow. ‘We’re getting through this together, remember?’
She didn’t have the capacity for any movement but she wanted to cover his hand with hers. She could only let regret pool in her gut as the energy in the air around her changed. A familiar tang, a whizzing sensation and then a warmth brushed her over her. Emma swallowed thickly.
Then a voice cut through her thought. ‘Someone get me medical, now,’ yelled the Engineering Officer of the Storybrooke. ‘The Captain is down.’
Summary - Captain Emma Swan of the Starship Storybrooke is two years into a five-year mission to explore space. Over the last two years, she has crossed paths with her former rival at the academy turned pirate Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger. However, her most recent pursuit of him finds her following him into dangerous territory and a rescue mission that uncovers a terrible secret on an abandoned planet on the edge of space.
Based on the edit set by @shipsxahoy here
A/N - If you wish to be tagged on future updates, let me know.
Part One Here Part Two Here / On AO3 / On FF.NET
Part Three - Tink
It didn’t take long for Killian’s shallow breathing to fill the darkened room. The medi scanner showed an improvement in his vitals but moving him in the morning would only cause a decline in his health. She sighed as she got to her feet after the second sun set. Out of habit, she pressed her communicator but is only met the familiar static that had filled the air since the only call after materialisation. Her appearance must have disrupted the field around the planet allowing their first communication before being blocked again. She should rest as well but she’s agitated. There is something very wrong about the human remains she has found. Not to mention the curiosity of what about this planet prompted High Command to court martial him.
Emma retrieved the torch from her pocket and set it to the lowest level. She shone it around, walking over to the armoire beside the broken bed. It was dust ridden. Untouched for hundreds of years. Pulling out the drawers would likely disturb Killian.
She turned and began to descend the stairs to the dorm below. Killian was right. She needed to find some sort of journal or letter that might indicate what happened before his demise. She was drawn back to the skeleton in the bed using her med scanner to perform an in-depth diagnostic of the body. However, there was no more information to garner from him.
Emma considered going back down to the mess to check out the other remains she had found on the sofa. However, she suspected they would give her similar information. Instead, she headed back up the stairs to check on her patient. As she looked at him, she considered the little information he had given her about this place. She switched off her torch as she tiptoed across the floor so she could extract his PDA from the inside pocket of the battered leather jacket he wore. He seemed to be out cold thanks to the combination of pain killers and rum. She extracted the handheld device slowly pausing when he exhaled then slipped it out. It wasn’t as advanced at her own kit but it had been retrofitted.
It was also password protected.
She sat down beside him and looked at the password command. Several years ago she might have been able to guess it. Five years of piracy suggested a darker man with secrets. A man who was willing to drug her to keep her off his back.
The password command blipped at her. She glanced at his peaceful face again, the colour returning to the apples of his cheeks. He looked no different to the young, open Star Fleet cadet she had once known. The numbers just came to her as she watched his lashes flutter against his cheeks. It worked. The screen blazed to life. The background picture caught her breathe. Emma blinked before pushing the implication aside as she accessed the file system.
Five years of research cumulated in very little. A few maps with supporting documents. He had piloted the Jolly Roger out to the edge of the atmosphere to survey what he could on a couple of occasions. According to the map, they were on edge on the largest city he had found. There was also a faint beacon signal he had picked up. The range broadcast on both old digital and even older analogue systems. Emma looked up at the ceiling, imagining she could see the stars pondering if Elsa had picked the same beacon on the bridge of the Storybrooke.
‘What are you doing Swan?’
Killian faint, but deep voice, cut through the silence.
‘Reading your files on this place,’ she replied. She tilted her head to the side to look at him. ‘Did you hack every core computer you came across for this?’
‘Yes, not with much to show for it though.’ he replied his tone suggesting that should be obvious. ‘I got chucked out the academy for finding this place. I wanted to know why. Ask yourself why a Star Fleet Cadet with a clean record –’ Emma snorted ‘– was court-martialled and dismissed for asking why several million was quietly being diverted here when it was classified as dead.’ He took the PDA from her and flicked to another document. ‘See?’ She took the PDA back and read the document. It was mere months old. ‘Now aren’t you just a little bit interested?’
‘I was interested when I saw the skeleton downstairs,’ she said. ‘It’s not natural.’
He nodded, understanding the look that formed in her eyes as she looked at the at the stairwell. ‘You need to rest, as well Swan,’ he said. ‘It might be some time before the Storybrooke is able to locate you.’
She woke to an empty room, wrapped in a battered leather jacket that smelled of spicy rum and a cologne Killian hadn’t changed in eight years. She resisted the urge to breathe in from the material as she gathered it into her arms. Outside the second sun was rising, the sky turning an odd orange-purple hue on the horizon as the forest quietened down around the tower. The bottle of rum was empty. Emma frowned in frustration as she got to her feet. She checked the window, walking over and peering down the five stories they had climbed when the sun set.
‘Think I’d escape?’ he asked, holding some dilapidated pieces of paper.
He still looked pale, sweat beading on his brow which he wiped away with the back of his hand. He’d done his shirt and vest up after leaving it open for the night which was a small mercy.
‘No,’ she said, holding his jacket out. ‘Looking to see how far up we are or if anything was interested in our presence. What have you got there?’
‘Radio transmission notes,’ he said, strutting into the room but still cradling his side. ‘Seems they were observing the local wildlife.’
He handed her the notes, exchanging them for his jacket which he threw over the armoire. Emma took them carefully looking at the notes.
‘Feral humans?’ she said looking at the observations about a pack of boys who had made the forest their home. ‘Hardly the way to talk about indigenous people.’
‘Read some more,’ he said, ‘that’s just the end of it.’
Emma frowned, flicking through the pages, leaning back against the wall. She blinked. ‘This was part of a secret facility.’
‘Which explains the obscure key on the map for this place,’ he said. ‘The humans mentioned seemed to have come from a nearby training facility.’ He pulled out his PDA. ‘There isn’t anything on the map beyond a smaller city further south.’
She shrugged. ‘Could be under the city, or concealed in a tower block.’
He conceded the point by cocking his eyebrow. ‘Then we get to the city. The emergency beacon might give us more information.’
‘In your state?’
He pulled a flask from his jean’s pocket. ‘S’fine, I topped it with rum so you can save on the Oxycodone,’ he said. ‘Might need it for an actual injury.’
The forest thinned to a long grassed field before the empty city. The city loomed in the distance. The map indicated they were ten clicks away from it and would have to travel under the beating dual suns to get there before the next sun down. Killian loped behind her, losing pace under his injuries and dragging back on the limited supply of rum to keep the pain at bay. She had tried to persuade him to stay in the tower while she ventured forth to the city.
The wild-eyed anger she had been faced with sent her recoiling back when he advanced on her telling her he would have the truth. She had only nodded her acquiesce in reply, looking away and only daring to glance up when she heard him grunt as he pulled his coat on. The first sun was laying low in the sky, one shadow lengthening as the planet seemed to come alive again. It was clear, now the fauna had recovered from the crash landing, that everything slunk away when both suns were up. She used her PDA to scan for signs of life, picking up signals coming from the direction she had come.
‘What do you know about the landscape of this place?’ she asked Killian as she paused to look in the direction they had come.
‘Dense forest or water for the most part,’ he grunted, his skin pale.
She pulled the medi scanner out again. ‘You need to rest.’
‘In the middle of a field?’ he said he asked her incredulously. ‘Let’s get to the city.’
He loped ahead. She stared helplessly after him not wanting to reignite his anger.
As they reached the edge of the city, Killian kicking through a wood panel and pushing into what was an overgrown garden. Before Emma pushed through, she looked back, shielding her eyes from the orange glow. Her eyes danced over the swaying grass but she was certain there was something more. Again, she drew out her PDA to scan the surrounding area.
‘Jones,’ she called through the hole, looking at the read-out. ‘Jones?’ She spun to look through the gap. ‘Killian,’ she yelled at his still form as he looked up at the house ahead of him.
‘Aye love?’
‘I’m getting human life signs,’ she said, looking back at her PDA. ‘Out there.’
He turned back and walked towards her with his own device out. ‘Mutated,’ he concluded from his own readouts. ‘From years of a small gene pool. We have no idea what sort of people they could be if they’ve abandoned the city for the forest.’
‘They could be the descendants of the people the tower was observing,’ she concluded.
Killian looked up. ‘Which would not be good if they still enjoy their cannibalistic tendencies,’ he replied. He grabbed her upper arm. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we need to find somewhere else to stay. This place isn’t going to be safe.’
The neighbourhood was designed in curving streets with large houses and big gardens. Emma looked around in awe. No such thing existed amongst the core planets. They were all sleek towers with bio-gardens. Her home didn’t have the charm of this place.
‘What do you think made our pursuers remain in the forest?’ she asked, rolling her shoulders against the gun strap digging into her shoulder.
‘If they’ve adapted to their surroundings, they may see no reason to leave,’ he replied, his eyes ranking over the home, mentally assessing them. ‘Food is likely to be abundant there for them when they aren’t eating their own.’
‘Did you have any idea they were –’
‘– cannibals?’ he finished. ‘I’m as surprised as you to find indigenous human life here at all.’
‘What were you expecting to find?’
‘Secret training base,’ he said. ‘Undercover project of some unimaginable horror that reveals the Federation to be as corrupt as the regimes of old.’
Emma turned on him. ‘I accept what Star Fleet has done to you is wrong, Killian, but it doesn’t mean there is some vast network of conspiracy out there.’
He sauntered back to her, stepping into her personal space. ‘So what is the Captain of the Starship Storybrooke going to do about it?’
‘Take everything we find to the highest authority. Higher than Admiral Gold.’
He considered what she was said then nodded. Such words from her were not an empty promise and Killian Jones knew it. Emma wasn’t in the habit of using her family ties to get her way. But for him, it appeared, she was willing to make an exception.
‘I do have to wonder what your father would make of this,’ he said as he winced.
Emma went to reach out for him when a clatter made them jump apart. She looked around in the direction he had come from, grabbing her pen torch to look between the two tall buildings they were beside.
‘Are you getting any readout?’
Killian’s PDA blipped. ‘Humanoid. Female. Similar make up to who followed us from the forest.’
Emma turned to look at him then started walking into the alleyway with her Phaser out. Behind her, there was a whine as Killian charged up his Plasma gun.
She turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Switch that thing off now,’ she said, her directive an order not a request. He gave her a rakish glance, his response clear – she was not his captain. Equally, as she had not arrested him, she couldn’t very well direct him as her prisoner. ‘You shoot and you will be in violation of the Prime Directive,’ she hissed.
‘I’ll risk it,’ he replied with a careless shrug. ‘I’m sure the Captain of the Storybrooke will not be so hung up on the Prime Directive if breaking it saves her life.’
‘Just stay close,’ she replied.
‘As you wish.’
She was tiny, so far as humanoids went, with a pixie like face peering at them with childlike curiosity. Hidden behind something that could have been metal bins, Emma coaxed her out with a gentle voice and promises not to bring her to any harm. She lay a reassuring hand on the arm of the child while Killian scanned her with the medi scanner he had slipped from Emma’s waist.
‘Friend?’
Her voice was harsh from little use. The delivery was far from what was considered normal on the core planets in the Misthaven Belt.
Emma nodded. ‘Friend,’ she repeated. ‘I’m Emma, this is Killian.’
She recoiled. ‘No kill.’
‘No, no,’ said Emma. ‘No kill. Why don’t you just call him Jones instead.’
‘Emma, Jones,’ she repeated. Behind Emma, Killian chuckled at the sound of their names combined in such a manner, but the girl wasn’t done. ‘Tink,’ she said. ‘Runaway.’
‘Okay Tink,’ Emma replied, getting back to her feet and looking at Killian. ‘What have we got?’
‘It’s fascinating. I’m no doctor, but the readouts suggest an interesting evolution pattern,’ he said, showing Emma the readouts. ‘She has bat-like wings. Her fingers and feet have developed to make it easier to climb.’
‘Any guess as to how old she is?’
‘None, her mineral composition isn’t registered in the Star Fleet’s data banks at all,’ he continued, now pulling out his own PDA to search through his files there. ‘What are you doing outside of the forest alone Tink?’
‘Kill small ones for food,’ she replied. Emma and Killian looked at her as she gestured towards herself. ‘Me small one. No good for others.’
‘Guess they haven’t outgrown their desire for flesh,’ Killian muttered grimly. ‘Is there anywhere safe? We think they followed us here?’
‘Down low,’ she said. ‘Lost boys are always high up.’
Tink’s strange grey eyes flickered to the rooftops, making their shadowed alleyway feel smaller than ever. Tink flickered away, her movements fluid and sinuous as she headed to what she called safe. Emma frowned after her then looked up at Killian was who watching her with curiosity until he felt Emma’s gaze on him.
‘I don’t like this,’ she said when his eyes meet hers.
‘Aye, love,’ he agreed. ‘She seems entirely too well fed to be ‘no good for others’. Bet this Plasma gun isn’t looking so contraband now, is it Swan?’
Emma looked at him, looking him over, out of the sun some of his colouring had returned to his face but he was sweating. She stepped in close, pushing herself up to her tip toes so her lips were close to his ears. ‘We give it ten minutes, then I want you to collapse in pain,’ she explained. ‘Stall her from taking us to where she wants to. I need to check your drain anyway.’
‘Why can’t you collapse into my arms?’
Emma glowered. ‘Because you have two broken ribs, a punctured lung and makeshift drain in situate,’ she ground out. Then smiled sweetly. ‘I could always remind you of how much it hurt.’
‘I’m well aware,’ he replied.
‘I realise it must be damaging to all that male libido to have me carry you around…’
‘Not at all,’ he cut in. ‘I was just hoping to carry you in my arms for a while.’
Emma’s eyes went wide. ‘This isn’t some joke Killian,’ she said. ‘We’re not safe here.’
He shrugged. ‘Then call it a dying man’s request,’ as he loped on behind the shrinking figure of Tink.
Hi! just wanna say thank you for being the talented writer that you are, i love coming across your fics! the price was stunning and unforgettable for me!
Thank you soooooo much.
I was really nervous about writing Fanfic again as it’s been years. It means so much to hear about how much someone is enjoying them :)
Big secret, The Price is easily my fave piece of writing I’ve actually published in any fandom, so I’m glad you love it.
Sometimes, it’s immediate, like having the darkness forced into you, other times, fate waits.The new minted Dark One, Killian Jones, may think his first curse is nothing more than a bit of ripe punishment for royals of the Enchanted Forest. Until he meets an enchanting Bounty Hunter in a tavern twenty nine years later.
After all, magic always comes with a price.
‘You aren’t the Dark One.’
The Evil Queen’s voice echoed around the cavernous hall of the castle that now belonged to the new minted Dark One. Killian Jones quirked his eyebrows at the newcomer and removed his boot from the giant oak table. He had been lounging in contemplation of what comes next – what did one do after emerging victor after a two hundred year feud? His blue eyes narrowed on the black-clad monarch as she strode the length of the hall in an imperious manner. Her black dress glittered when it caught the light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows on the south wall.
‘Well, Your Majesty,’ replied Captain Hook, with a wave of his hand. In the swirl of smoke, a dagger of ornate design appeared in his hand. He twisted it in the light showing Regina his name engraved in the wavy blade. ‘You are very much mistaken.’
Her hazel eyes zeroed in on the dagger. Killian smirked as he flicked his wrist, the dagger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared to return to its place deep in the vault below the castle. He may well be the new incarnate of the Dark One, but he was a centuries-old pirate. He knew a murderous look when he saw one.
‘I’m supposed to believe that you, a one-handed pirate without a drop of magic, killed Rumpelstiltskin,’ she sneered flicking the skirt of her dress in frustration. Hook answered with a quirk of his eyebrows. ‘How did you do it?’ she asked, her tone changing to interest. ‘How did you kill the Dark One?’
‘By making sure he didn’t see me coming,’ replied Hook. ‘But enough about me. You came here, looking for help from the Dark One Your Majesty, so what how can I help?’
A grin, dark and evil, curved on her face. ‘I’m thinking of several things you can help with Dark One.’
Hook chuckled, a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. ‘Much as I’m sure it would be an enjoyable experience, love, I’m more interested in why you came here in the first place. You didn’t come here for an enjoyable experience with the Crocodile. So Your Majesty, how can I help?’
‘The curse Rumpelstiltskin created didn’t work,’ she said, her hands going to her hips. ‘I crushed the heart of the thing I love the most but we’re all still here.’
‘Ah,’ Hook replied, tapping his finger on the arm of his chair. ‘But surely that would imply you can love.’
From the look on her face, he could tell he hit a nerve.
‘What can I say,’ he said as she seethed at his words, ‘I’ve not spent an overabundance of time in this realm in the last few years, but while in port, whispers of hundreds dead, perhaps even thousands dead at your hand. Doesn’t strike me as someone who has ever experienced love.’
‘A little rich coming from you, Captain.’
Hooks lips twitched into a lopsided grin. ‘Rumours of my escapades are greatly exaggerated, milady,’ he rapped out smoothly, then he shrugged when her head fell to the side in a doubtful expression. ‘Pirate, Your Majesty, I’ve spent centuries traversing the realms. I couldn’t do it unhindered without some sort of reputation under my belt.
‘But I digress,’ he continued putting his feet on the floor, ‘you have yet to tell me what it is you actually need. I tire of you wasting my time.’
‘I want to know how to cast the curse.’
Killian spread his hands. ‘I can’t give you what you need.’
Regina glowered at him, but unable to harm him in any capacity without his engraved knife, she stormed from the castle leaving Hook contemplating Rumpelstiltskin’s alliance with the Evil Queen. The machinations of the Crocodile were of little interest to him. However, one did have to ponder upon the curse requiring the heart of something loved the most and concluding the Evil Queen was the best person to procure such a thing.
Unsurprisingly it all centred on Baelfire. Even after all this time, Rumpelstiltskin still sought a path to his son. Killian couldn’t quite rid himself of the bitter taste in the back of his throat.
--//--
The curse on the new Princess came about as a show of power after the Charmings attempted to storm his castle. As he had done very little in the way of antagonising the royal family, he decided a show of power was required in the form of a curse. He had not some much as clicked his fingers to use the magic forced upon him following the Crocodile’s death, but now, well he could see where Regina’s desire to be rid of the do-gooding royals. Harm would be easily caused by focusing on the small child growing in Snow White’s belly. The Crocodile had theorised the child would be the product of True Love, thus a very powerful being of unimaginable power. Putting that to the test was the sort of challenge Killian enjoyed.
The coronation ceremony was in full swing when he entered the throng, throwing open the doors just as the Blue Fairy finished granting her gift. Although why anyone would trust Reul Ghorm to gift a new born with anything was beyond the Dark One’s imagination. Killian had donned his best attire; a red vest with brass buttons, black shirt, matching leather pants with his coat and sword at his side. Charming rose to his feet drawing his sword as Killian began his walk towards the cot.
Killian rested his hook on the hilt of his sword, throwing an arrogant smirk at the Prince, or was it King now, as he peered into the cot.
‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ he enquired, looking at the swaddled babe.
‘Hook,’ Snow addressed him, her hand on Charming, staying his hand.
He glanced up, a smile plastering across his face. Dark, twisted, sardonic pleasure lingered in his blue eyes as he looked at Snow White in her fine gown with a crown atop her head. ‘I must say, Your Majesty, I was most distressed at not getting an invitation.’
‘You’re not welcome here,’ snarled Charming.
‘Really, mate? After all I’ve done for you? Slaying the imp. Preventing Regina from casting that delightful curse she threatened upon the Kingdom,’ Killian replied as he hooked his thumb into his belt. ‘I’d say I’d done you a favour. And how do you repay me? By storming my castle in the dead of night. Your tactics are certainly lacking in good form.’
‘What do you know of good form?’ yelled Charming. ‘You’re nothing but a pirate.’
Silence fell in the room, breaths held as time seemed to slow down. The Dark One threw off the insult with a wave of his hand. ‘Aye, mate,’ he said as he turned back to the child. ‘That I am, but I’m also the Dark One. Besides, I did not come to bestow my time on you. Instead, to give your dear daughter a moment of my time.’
Charming surged forward, pulling himself out of Snow White’s grip. ‘You stay away from her,’ the prince roared.
Again, Killian flicked his wrist, Charming paused in mid-movement, his face twisted and snarling as he reached out with fingers that had turned into claws. Killian tutted. He looked at Snow White who was frozen in her seat looking up at her husband. ‘Dear me, Your Majesty, your husband has quite the temper.’
He tutted again then looked at the child. She had some dark tufts on the crown on her head with the baby blue eyes that every child was born with. His mortal self always had a longing for children. A brace of boys and girls bearing the shared characteristics of himself and Milah. It had never meant to be.
‘Now,’ he muttered, ‘where was I? Oh yes, now listen up all of you, I certainly wouldn’t want you to miss out the details. The Princess will indeed grow in beauty and grace-’ he threw a look at the Blue Fairy who fluttered nearby without so much as intervening- ‘beloved by all, yet before the sun sets on her thirtieth birthday, she will prick her finger on the thorn of a rose to fall into a death-like slumber only to be awakened by True Love’s kiss.’
Killian smirked at his clause. The Princess’s parents might share True Love, but it was the rarest of magic, the hardest won. Despite how much and how long he had loved Milah, they had never attained the heady heights of True Love. Besides, the harder one looked for it, the harder it became to obtain it.
‘This curse shall last to the end of time. No power in all the known realms and beyond can change it,’ he finished.
Then with a wave of his hand, the blackest of magic rushed over them all, releasing the furious prince and Snow White from their frozen stances. Yet the Dark One was too fast, or time to slow, as he vanished in a haze of red smoke. Gone before Charming’s sword even reached the spot where he stood as Snow White collapsed to her knees.
--//--
Killian Jones was not so stupid as to leave his newest mortal enemies with a sitting target, even if he could drop them with a swish of his wrist, thus retreated back to the Jolly Roger. The intention was to watch them suffer, struggle to save their daughter knowing that nothing could ever prevent it her demise. As the years rolled by fits of sheer malevolence took him back to the shores of the Enchanted Forest. He would plant lures to lead the family around in the hope of finding an end to his curse. Every time he ventured into the green depths of the once beautiful forest, he noted evidence of roses being destroyed; uprooted and burnt. The Charming’s were nothing if not through in their bid to save their daughter.
His face also decorated the trees with a healthy bounty for his capture. As if any mortal would truly dare to tangle with the Dark One.
As for the Princess, the Royal Family sent her away with the fairies for her own protection. Killian was amused by the thought of the ditzy creatures given the task of protecting the Princess from him. She had very little to fear from him directly.
At twenty-one, the Princess ran from the fairies. A decision that Killian couldn’t agree more with. For all the fairies claimed to be wholesome, the Dark One knew it not to be so. But how the Royals wished to raise their child was up to them and their misguided beliefs. Of course, his little game now had the added delight of watching them search not only for the cure for his curse but for their daughter as well.
But in all, the twenty-nine years passed in a haze.
--//--
Piracy was even more fun when you did have mortality to hold you back. His crew was successful and not one of them knew that beneath his charming, unaged smile, lurked the Dark One. With his newly restored hand, using his given name once more, most agreed he had the most uncanny if unfortunate resemblance to the Dark One. He was able to hide his lack of a need for sleep from the crew by entertaining himself with many a willing girl in each port, yet sexual gratification was beginning to bore him.
At this time of disillusionment, she caught his eye.
A lithe body covered in brown leathers and blonde hair in a high ponytail. A sword was slung on her back rather than at the waist. She walked with a swagger of confidence. Killian watches her with hungry eyes as she leans over the bar to order her drink, assets on show for the barkeep. He grabbed his tumbler of rum and sauntered over.
‘Not an especially safe place for a lady such as you,’ he remarks, even though he notes a dagger at her side and one in her boot.
‘Who says I’m a lady?’ she asks, turning to face him, her smile sweet but eyes sardonic. ‘And who says I want you for company?’
‘Well, aren’t you the feisty one?’ Killian replied. ‘Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger-’ he bows with a flourish- ‘at your service.’
Her eyes light up, jade going to a slight tawny shade. ‘Is that so?’ she replied, taking a sip of ale. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good. Surely you’re the type of man who makes this place dangerous for a lady like me?’
Killian can’t deny she has a point, thus he only smiles back, a dangerous, lust filled expression but from the way she looks back at him… Well, he’s always liked a challenge.
As the night comes to a close, the feisty one is still supping on the pints she has been steadily buying through the night. While she sits in the shadowed corner, her eyes darting over everyone and everything, while waving away other would-be suitors with a flick of her wrist. One tried his luck more than once earning himself a thump to the face from the clearly able woman.
Killian knows the expression darkening her otherwise beautiful face; she is searching for something but she doesn’t appear to know where to start. Yet he feels he has an element of measure in her. In his much younger years, he two would linger in taverns, seated in the darkness searching out some missing piece. For him, it had been the last link to rid the realm of the Crocodile. She seems to be searching for something as equally as important – her own missing link.
Eventually, their eyes meet again. This time, she gets up. Her moves are fluid, sensual as she saunters over, beer in hand before settling opposite her.
‘You are quite the conundrum,’ she said. ‘You are the only man in here to have left me be.’
‘Well, what the lady requests, the lady gets,’ he replied taking a sip of his rum.
An angelic smile crosses her face. ‘I need passage on your ship.’
Killian blinked, leant back to examine her. ‘What do I get in return?’
‘That is up to you, Captain.’
--//--
His payment, he decided, was to pillage the beautiful woman who had so boldly asked him for passage on his ship. Miss Swan, Emma, had been more than willing to accept his offer. Particularly after he pointed out being the lover of the Captain came with certain privileges.
‘Besides, would you rather have one of their grubby hands on you?’ he asked, waving his hand in the direction of his rambunctious crew. ‘Once I’ve had my way with you, I’ll let you be, unless you ask for more.’
His promise had elicited a dark look in her eyes, thus he led her back to the cabin of his beloved ship. The moment he had her enclosed, away from prying eyes, Killian began to devour her. Lips moulded against each other as tongues tangled together. His hands roved freely as did hers. Emma Swan had clearly had her fair share of encounters. Not that he minded, blushing virgins were always a knife edge to walk in such a situation. He just wanted to fuck. He pulled at her top, half regretting he no longer had his hook to just rip it apart, desperate to reveal the milky tits he had only gotten a glimpse of in the bar. Killian tugged at the laces of her corset, then in a growl of frustration, took drew his dagger and sliced through them. The shirt beneath ripping apart by his sheer strength.
‘Captain,’ she whispered against his ear, as his tongue slid between her exposed breasts ‘so eager.’
He growled in response and latched onto an exposed nipple, his teeth grazing the soft flesh while his tongue massaged the pointed tip. Emma cried out, a call to the gods as Killian’s hand went to the other, fingers pinching her until he transferred his mouth there. He was going to be sure the only name she said by the end of the night was his. She was going to want him with endless abandon by the time he was done.
Her hand cradled the back of his head, threading through the short hair at the base of his skull, urging him closer. The hand that wasn’t occupied with slid over her hip, finding scars there before sliding down to her waistband. Her spare hand was at the laces of her figure hugging leggings, pulling the apart as his hand made its way to the soft globe of her ass.
Emma encouraged him every step away. Nipping at his skin at every chance she had, touching and exploring his body for herself. Her fingers were touches of light against his darkened heart. Part of him revelled in it as he kissed her until her lips were bruised, buried deep in her. Another part hated her for the power she had over the darkness. Yet he could not deny the intoxicating high he gained from her. Particularly when she turned the tables on him in the night. She took her own pleasure from him, taking him deep in her hot mouth until he came.
Her reaction was a smile. She brushed her matted blonde hair aside as she wiped her lips clean with her thumb as she swallowed before sliding down onto his still hardened length.
--//--
As dawn filtered through the port holes, Killian found himself gazing at her honeyed skin as he sat in the high back chair at his desk. It had been an age since finding himself such a willing lover as her. She barely spoke during their ritual, just as he preferred. But as she was to be his companion having promised her the rights of the Captain’s lover while she remained, he supposed he would soon discover the reasons for her scar covered body.
The ship came alive on deck. Killian washed himself down and dressed, remembering as he did so that he had been careless with her clothing. Her shirt was nothing more than ragged remains. The laces of her corset were obliterated. Replacing them would not be an issue. It would be a matter of sending one of the men out with a handful of coin. The Darkness might still rage in his body but it didn’t mean he had to alter his standard of care towards a woman under his protection.
--//--
Over time he learns she is a runaway and mercenary. Emma Swan has hunted many a bounty in her years. Like many others seeks the Dark One, but only should he cross her path, a more pressing matter concerns her. One of a very personal nature. Killian asks, naturally, but Emma just smiled and demanded further satisfaction at his hands.
He doesn’t tire from her heavenly quim and delicious lips.
The part of him that still remembers being mortal ponders whether it is love. He shakes it off as lust but his entrancement in her leads him offering to improve her sword skills for whatever battle she has. They go over the moves until she begins to be able to best time one in every three times before declaring they can go no further. No point teaching her how to completely best him when she desires to win the bounty on his head.
‘I’m a lost princess,’ she whispers one night after one too many shots of rum.
It takes a lot to shock him. This certainly does. Emma Swan is a siren, vicious mercenary and a drinker on par with his own indulgence. She isn’t a Princess. Yet, he could tell if it was a bald face lie or even one said under a haze of alcohol. A shake develops in his restored hand; he calls it his anchor of mortality for a reason. He has come to care for her, wanting to understand the woman who seems to reflect his mortal soul, or what remains of it at least.
‘Don’t believe me?’ she giggles. An uncharacteristic sound but she is pretty drunk.
From around her neck, she removes a necklace he has seen every time from time to time. It usually gets discarded amongst her shirt in the heat of passion but when she walks around the cabin naked, it’s there swinging from breast to breast. She holds out the ring for his examination.
The coat of arms belongs to Charming and Snow White. It adorns every poster in the Enchanted Forest that bears his face. Their eyes meet for a moment.
‘You’re the cursed princess?’ he whispers.
She smiles, it’s sardonic but still full of all the grace and beauty bestowed on her by the curse. ‘Indeed.’
--//--
By his calculations, he has a little over a month to find a cure to the curse he had deemed would last until the end of time. The curse no power in all the known realms could change. The curse that requires the rarest of magic to break. He hasn’t withdrawn from slaking his lust with her. But while she sleeps he combines all the words he knows to save her from the curse he enacted in a childish fit of pique thirty years earlier. A curse that earnt him the good grace of the Evil Queen for its genius.
No power in all the known realms and beyond can change it.
The words mock him in his nightly struggle. Come the morning, he loses himself within her again. It’s a despicable act, even for one possessed of the Darkness. As a result, the man he once was speaks to him. The man who once knew how to love has resurfaced in his mind.
Love.
Is that what he feels for this burning woman? All he had wanted was bury himself in her, use her for his own pleasure, but now… Now he’d walk to the end of the world for her.
It never occurred to him what the outcome of this curse was going to be beyond the Princess’s eternal sleep. His desire had only been to harm her parents for their needless endeavours against him. Killian Jones, the Dark One, was never supposed to suffer.
However, magic always has a price.
--//--
The deck is deserted. Killian whisking his crew away into slumber with a wave of his hand despite the choppy waters. Emma is at the bow of the ship, enjoying the exhilarating rise and fall of the waves with spray in the air. Killian has decided she has to know. The internal struggle of the last few weeks has been won by his light side. The real Killian Jones is surfacing under her ministrations both inside and outside the sanctuary of the Captain’s Cabin.
As he draws closer to her, she sees her hand curled into the thick ropes to help her hold on.
‘Emma,’ he calls.
He rarely calls her Emma, preferring the surname she has chosen for herself – Swan. After all, she is as graceful and fierce as one. She turns. As the Crocodile had predicted all those years ago, she is pure light magic. He is drawn to her because he has noticed how she lights up the little parts of his soul he thought were consumed. It wasn’t as if he ever wanted the mantle of The Dark One.
She smiles at his call, her body swaying towards him, her hand landing on his shoulder. ‘What is it?’
‘Emma, I must tell you something, something that will make your mission so much easier.’
Her expression grows serious, her hand curls into his lapel. She’s grown too close to him as well. He aches to touch her, put her hands on her waist to steady her.
‘What is it?’
She looks at him as if he can do her no harm. He supposes there is not much more he can do for her. In a less than a week, she will fall into a sleep that no one will ever be able to wake her from. He takes the hand on his lapel.
‘Love, I must ask you hear me out,’ he said, walking her away from the bow.
The hand in the rope untangles and rests on his waist. Killian does know if he can take losing this type of contact from her. He realises just how much they have been falling for each other. He caresses her cheek. She sighs into it.
‘Emma, I am the Dark One.’
The moment freezes. The hand at his waist moves away as if she has shocked her with magic. Were it not the hold on her hand, Emma would have tugged it away. He recognises her desire to move so he releases her hand.
‘No.’
She looks from one hand to the other, then his skin. Even though he has barely used magic he had taken on the scaly appearance of the Dark One. He used a cloaking spell to restore his natural appearance.
‘Aye, love,’ he whispers, stepping away from her.
As he did so, he flicked his wrist and produced the dagger he had hidden for years. He showed her his name as her hands went to her face in despair. She is shattering. He wants to hold her together. He’s shattering too.
However, all her focus is on the dagger, his name written in embellished in the dark engraving.
‘What would happen if I took this from you?’ she asked, her arms glued to her side.
‘You would control me.’
‘If I slid it into your heart?’ Emma asked as her fingers twitched.
‘I would die. You would be reborn as a Dark One,’ he replies as his fingers release a little of their grip on the hilt.
Emma looks at the gesture, the dagger going limp, her eyes widening. ‘Would it prevent the curse?’
Tears form in the ducts of his eyes. ‘I don’t know.’ A beat passes between them. ‘For all the gods in the realm Emma, just…’
‘Just what?’
‘Save yourself.’
She looked up and met his eyes. ‘How am I supposed to do that when you cursed me for all time?’
--//--
The standoff between them results in him banishing the dagger back to its hiding spot while Emma fled to the cabin. There was barely a week left. Killian resolved to leave his crew in their slumber while he saw to Emma. He stood at the ship's wheel when she emerged from the cabin, pushing it open with a huge amount of force. Her eyes narrowed on him. If looks could kill he was sure this one would have burnt him up. He noted that far from their usual jade appearance they had turned amber. Emma stalked towards him.
‘Take me home.’
The demand was simple. He supposed he should allow her the time with her family, but as the night had passed another option had occurred to him. In the middle of the sea, there was no way for a rose to even find its way onto the ship.
‘You will almost certainly succumb to the curse,’ he tells her.
‘I will anyway,’ she yells. ‘You said yourself last night, you have already tried to undo it. Please, just let me go to be with the people who love me.’
His hand clenched the handles of the ship’s wheel. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘There is one other option. Swan, tell me what you see?’
‘Other than the accursed Dark One?’
‘Aye, other than me,’ he replied.
‘The sea,’ she said, looking away from the boat the open expanses of the ocean they had been traversing the last month. ‘I don’t understand?’
‘Well, the sea isn’t known for its ability to grow roses,’ he said. ‘If there is no rose with which to prick your finger then the curse cannot take effect.’
Emma looked at him incredulously. ‘You think something so simple as that will just make the curse blow over?’ She shook her head. ‘Why do you even care?’
‘Because I care about you.’ The words hung between them. Emma rocked with the motion of the ship, but the fury in her eyes died down, he looked away. ‘It’s worth a shot, Emma.’
--//--
For some reason, she agrees. He doesn’t know why, but she nods her head says she’ll stay. She occupies her mind by going over her training. Killian watches her mesmerising dance wishing he could pull her into his arms and reclaim her body for his own. But he keeps his distance from her until she comes to him as the sun is setting on the day before the dreaded birthday.
‘Take me to bed,’ she whispers.
He does so willingly, pulling her into his arms to kiss her. He makes it about her. He isn’t sure if it is love that he feels, but it’s strong so when he removes her clothes he does so slowly. Each lay is peeled away reverently. Instead of rutting into her, he worships her as if she were a goddess. His lips and fingers move over her, pressing at all the little spots of pleasure he has come to know well.
They take their time reaching their peak. Tumbling together as though nothing but they matter. Twisted, garbled sentences left each of their lips as the night sped on until dawn. If freezing time were possible, Killian would have done so just to revel in these hours over and over again. When completion came, he took Emma in his arms. Even he fell into sleep.
The restful period did not last long. Killian woke as the golden beams of dawn filtered into the cabin, highlighting her burnished skin and golden hair. As his fingers painted a pattern on her shoulder, she sighs as she nuzzles into the pillow. There is a great appeal to waking up with her every morning. Even if they beat the curse, the act of sleeping and waking together would be a luxury. With a groan, Killian pulls himself away and rolls onto his back. Something on his desk catching his eye.
He sits up, pulling the sheets off of Emma as he does to look at the flower on the desk. ‘No,’ he mutters, scrambling out of the bed. ‘No, no, no.’
Emma stirs, rolling over then moving into the space he has just vacated. ‘What is it?’
Killian holds up the flower. A rare rose from the fields of Camelot. ‘Middlemist,’ he mutters.
‘It’s a rose.’
‘Aye, love,’ he agrees sadly. ‘It seems you were right. Nothing so simple.’
She sits up and pulls one the nearest shirt to hand over her head. It’s one of his black ones, it leaves her looking tantalising. Now isn’t the time to be lusting over her. She looks down at it with sadness, fingers curling into the sheet as she tries to stop tears from forming. Her head tilts to the side, but before she can say anything Killian snatches up the rose and makes for the deck despite being naked.
‘Killian,’ she yells, jumping up the bed to follow him, emerging behind him just in time to see him throw the rose into the wake of the ship.
He watches it land then sink into the waves before turning back to her. Without a word, he cups her cheeks then kisses her in a slow, searing manner before ripping the shirt from her. They fall in a naked tangle on the deck.
He takes her without preamble, pushing into her warm depths.
‘I will not lose you to this curse,’ he vows as he begins to move within her.
Yet when they return to the cabin, their bodies covered in sweat from their lovemaking, they pause at the bottom of the ladder. Another rose lies on the table. Emma looks up at Killian. She is no longer looking her lover, but the Dark One.
Dangerous, furious…
Bested…
Emma is resigned to the fate that has been hanging over her head since she was a week old. She leaves his side and walks to the table. As she reaches out for it, Killian grabs her wrist to stop her, his other hand warm on the bare skin of her waist. She turns her head to look at him.
‘Let me do this on my terms,’ she says softly. ‘Not forced at dusk.’
‘I can’t,’ Killian bites out.
Emma pulls her wrist free. ‘You can. Just return me home.’
Before he can stop her, while he is dumbfounded by her decision, she grabs the bloom. Examines it as she twists it between her fingers for a moment. In a swift movement, she clenches the stem in her fist, the thorns breaking through the skin of her palm. The pain causes her breath to catch as the sensation of a glut of poison feels her blood. Her knees give out as she turns her head to him.
Killian catches her before her knees hit her floor of the cabin. Her eyes drifting shut as he lays her down. He shouts and screams and rages. It makes no difference. His curse is complete. Princess Emma lies in an eternal sleep that only the rarest of magic can break.
For the end of time.
--//--
It’s midnight. The bell tolling in the palace clock tower when a bed with a beautiful woman appears in the tallest tower. She has not been seen in the Enchanted Forest for years. But now she lies in a white gown, her hair glossy and shining with a Middlemist Rose in her hand. To the casual observer, Princess Emma looked as innocent as the day she was born. No hint of her travels, battles or lusts marked the milky skin of her body.
The Enchanted Forest entered mourning for their sleeping Princess.
In a port far from the palace, an entire crew of men appears without their captain nor ship surrounded by their ill-gotten gains.
And on a ship far out to sea, the most powerful of magical creatures rips his cabin apart with a roar of anguish, stopping only when he finds a letter tucked into a book.
I forgive you. Emma.
--//--
Killian Jones concludes royals have no imagination. Since losing Emma to his curse, he has travelled the known realms to learn what he can of True Love, even returning to the Dark One castle to research the Crocodile’s musing on the subject. Each of the cases he has encountered of True Love has involved pure princesses and valiant princes. Emma’s own parents are not an exception to this rule either. His research into Emma Swan has caused him to conclude the product of True Love had a ruthless streak, took her pleasure and indulged in excess.
Killian ponders, as he reflects on the life he had before Milah if it is the case for people like he and her to ever attain such rarity. Perhaps if Emma had allowed to be a Princess she would have found True Love in the halls of her parent’s palace.
As he searches for the cure, stories reach him of Princes arriving in the Enchanted Forest with the express intention of kissing the sleeping Princess. It maddens him to the core.
Jealousy, a voice sounds much like his younger self, is a sure sign of love.
His eyes drift to the phials the Crocodile had collected in his two-hundred-year career. True Love. It burnt with light magic as two hairs entangled with one another. Killian had to ponder just who the Crocodile had plucked them from.
‘Why Prince Charming and Snow White,’ laughed the imp in the recesses of his mind. ‘Not that he’s really a Prince of course.’
Killian spun on the spot, looking behind him. He was alone, but a thought struck him as he listened to the voice of his deceased nemesis. He turned back to the vials to carefully extracted the True Love one and placed it in his pocket.
‘What exactly are you going to do with that, dearie?’ the apparition asked.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ he snarled before vanishing in a cloud of red smoke.
‘You really shouldn’t be toying with things you don’t understand,’ Rumpelstiltskin insisted as Killian appeared in a grand marble hallway of the palace were Emma lay.
He walked away from the voice. He had become well practiced in ignoring the deepest recesses of the darkness this past year. Emma had changed him beyond all comprehension. Killian flicked his wrist in the dismissal of the voice and began the climb to the room. As suspected, it was guarded but it was little more than a minor inconvenience. Killian knocked them to their sleep. They’d wake up to sore heads and likely dismissal but at least they wouldn’t be dead.
In the room, the Princess looks frozen, still in the garb he had conjured for her. She didn’t look like the woman he knew, the passionate lover who took as much as she gave. His walk to her side was slow, full of hesitation. He had missed her in the year that had passed. Her smiles, glorious body, conversation, all of her.
As he reached her, he stroked her cheek then removed the tiara in her golden tresses. Emma did count herself a Princess. Neither did he. He glanced at her lips, wondering how many errant Princes had pressed their lips to hers in their vain bid to awaken her and win the country that came attached to her.
(Her younger brother, trained for the Crown, pushed aside to encourage the gentry to try to wake the Princess.)
‘I will never ask anything of you for this, my love,’ he whispered as he placed his forehead on hers. ‘But if this works, and you wish to stay by my side, then we shall stay together as long as you wish.’
His lips touched her lips, a tear sliding down his face, wondering how on earth it had taken him a year to come to this conclusion. Killian pulled away from her, but her eyes remained shut. He sighed deeply.
‘Never doubt I have come to love you, Swan,’ he said, standing to take his leave of her. ‘Should you ever wake and I linger on in this world, you have but to ask for me.’
As he turned from her, a hand grabbed his, fingers curling into his palms. ‘I knew it was you,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse from a year asleep.
She reached up, pulling him down so she could kiss him, fingers sliding into the shorter hair at the base of his skull. As she did so a wave of light magic engulfed them. It was so strong Killian was forced back, breaking the kiss. He stood looking at her, her mouth slightly agape at him, as his fingers went to his lips.
‘It’s gone,’ he whispered, looking at her as if he were the first time he had ever seen her. ‘Emma, the Darkness.’
Emma swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing the cover off herself in frustration. ‘True Love’s Kiss,’ she whispered, getting to her feet. She’s a little shaky after a year asleep, but Killian grabs her elbows. ‘I knew. I knew the Darkness was leaving you. That last day.’
As she reaches up to kiss him, but the door flies open revealing Emma’s father. He sees his daughter on her feet, but then his eyes go to Killian. Hatred boils in his eyes for the man who cursed his daughter. The aging King draws his sword.
‘Father, no,’ Emma shouts, placing herself between her True Love and father. ‘I can explain.’
Charming pays her no heed. Killian tries to pull her aside out of harm’s way, but she shrugs him off, instead she turns and pulls Killian’s sword.
‘This bastard cursed you,’ Charming yells.
‘I know,’ Emma cried back, levelling the sword at him, ‘but I will run you through if you harm him. He isn’t the man who did that anymore. He isn’t the Dark One anymore.’
‘I likely tale,’ snarled Charming.
‘But true,’ bit out Killian.
The King doesn’t relax his stance but neither does Emma. ‘I love him, father,’ she said. ‘And he loves me. He woke me from the curse.’
‘As caster of the curse, he could have orchestrated this to gain the Kingdom,’ replied Charming. ‘Seize him.’
The guards surged around the room. Emma watched shaking her head whispering ‘no, no, no’ as Killian was bodily pulled from the room. She looked at her father, aghast and angry. ‘How could you?’ she demanded, the sword now shaking. ‘How could you?’
Her father gave her a pitying glance as Emma’s legs gave out, crashing against the marble floor of the room as Charming sheathed his sword.
‘It’s for the best Emma,’ he said. ‘One day you’ll understand that.’
The doors to the sleeping chamber were shut to the sound of her soft cries.
--//--
He was sentenced to death. There would be no trial, no chance for him to have his say. The guards casually remarked that the Princess was locked in her room. Bewitched, they said, by the powers of the Dark One. Where he still the Dark One he would have been able to blast through these bars without a second thought.
Killian sat in his cell. It had a window so he could measure the passage of time. Once the sun had peaked over the horizon he would be killed; hung, drawn and quarter was the sentence. A particularly vicious death handed down by a monarch who was usually celebrated for his clemency. His only comfort was the bottle of rum the guards had failed to extract from his person when tossing him in here. It’s a bitter irony. Had she waited for but a moment to kiss him, he would have still had his powers and could have whisked them from this predicament.
Commotion reached his ears, the zing of blades and the slosh of blood. The other prisoners started yelling, rattling the bars as the sound of a fight echoed down the damp stone corridors. Killian got to his feet as a guard was dropped at the end of the corridor. The silhouette replacing the guard revealing not another man but the lithe body of the beautiful woman he’d trained in such moves.
‘Swan?’ his voice was hoarse with surprise.
She ran down to him, followed by another who sheathed his sword.
‘Killian,’ she said, pulling out some keys. ‘We’ve not go long. The castle already stirs. We must leave.’
‘How?’ he asked as she unlocked the doors.
‘Secret tunnels that lead out into the woods,’ said the young man, pulling back his hood to reveal the spitting image of Prince Charming. ‘They are an escape route for if the family was ever to be ambushed. Just use your seal, Emma, and the door will open. Keep moving. Do not look back. It will not take long for father to piece together what happened here.’
‘I know,’ she said, taking Killian’s hand. ‘We can get back to the Jolly. Get away from here forever.’
‘Aye, love,’ Killian replied with a nod. He looked at Prince Neal. ‘I don’t know how to repay you.’
‘You care for her,’ the Prince replied, ‘but don’t set foot in this Kingdom until my father is dust. I will not be able to help you a second time. You must go. I need to return before I am missed.’
Emma nodded, turning to pull Killian with her. ‘Come, we must.’
They ran through the tunnels, her hand never leaving his and burst out into the forest a good two miles from the palace. Emma paused, bending over to catch her breath, before continuing as the sky began to lighten. They didn’t speak as the moved, using all their energy to get as far from the palace as possible. Stopping only when they reached a stream.
‘I’m starting to think I was hasty in kissing you,’ she said.
‘Aye, but what is done is done,’ Killian replied as he filled his canteen. ‘We should follow the water, we’ll reach the sea in a few hours, and the Jolly Roger.’
Emma smiled and nodded as she poured water over her face.
‘Why did he help us?’ he asked. ‘Your brother.’
‘Well, getting back his place as next in line to the throne was a powerful motivator,’ she explained. ‘Besides, had he not helped, I’d have done it myself. It was just made easier with us both.’
She held out her hand for him. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘the sooner we’re on that ship, the sooner I’ll feel safe.’
--//--
It takes days for Charming to deploy his Navy. More than long enough for Killian Jones to put distance between them and the Enchanted Forest so that they’ll not be caught. Emma stands at the side of her captain, her chin resting on his shoulder as he casually throws out they should visit Agrabah.
Summary - Captain Emma Swan of the Starship Storybrooke is two years into a five-year mission to explore space. Over the last two years, she has crossed paths with her former rival at the academy turned pirate Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger. However, her most recent pursuit of him finds her following him into dangerous territory and a rescue mission that uncovers a terrible secret on an abandoned planet on the edge of space.
Based on the edit set by @shipsxahoy here
A/N - If you wish to be tagged on future updates, let me know.
Part One Here or On AO3
Part Two - Finding Neverland
Emma materialised in a hot forest with the power of two suns beating down on her. According to the reports, Neverland only experienced five hours of darkness. In the proximity of two Type-G stars, she didn’t understand why anyone had attempted to terraform here. The water percentage was well below the accepted average required for human survival. She could easily accept that as the reason it was a dead planet were it not for the classified status Jones claimed not even her father could override.
She looked around the terrain. The thick, dense forest sprawled across her vision with little sign of where the emergency shuttle may have landed. Emma pulled her PDA from the utility belt she had strapped to her waist before leaving the Storybrooke. The machine booted up and started scanning for the beacon. Leroy claimed he would be putting her down less than a mile away, unwilling to further endanger her by putting her down directly on the site.
‘Captain to Bridge,’ she called, head bent towards the communicator on her chest.
‘Go ahead, Captain,’ Elsa’s voice was obscured with static.
‘Can you look into improving the signal?’ she asked her First Officer. ‘Can you confirm my location in relation to the emergency beacon?’
‘It should be two clicks to the north,’ replied Elsa. ‘According to the data, when facing north, both suns should be on your left.’
Emma sighed as the PDA finally picked up the beacon. ‘Easier said than done, Snowbourne,’ said Emma. ‘The canopy of the forest is so thick there is barely any light down here. Will you continue trying to obtain as much data on this planet as we can?’
‘Ma’am,’ said Elsa, her voice hesitant, ‘shall I contact your father?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she said, ‘besides if Jones is to be believed then it will do us no good. Swan out.’
Emma switched off the communicator and began walking in the direction her PDA indicated. The trek was not easy, climbing over fallen trunks and vine undergrowth. It took ten minutes before the wretched smell of plasma fuel filled Emma’s nose. She winced at the assault on her nose as she pushed into the clearing created by the crash landing. Emma blinked at the brightness caused by the two suns beating down on the space. True to Snowbourne’s remarks, the two suns were indeed on her left. Planets with two suns so close were a rarity as they couldn’t produce the right conditions for human life. The lush growth of this forest was unprecedented according to the education she had received both as a child then as she progressed through the Academy.
She stepped into the crater produced by the impact. The undergrowth had been ripped away making it easy to step out to the escape pod. It was small, battered by both the impact with the atmosphere of the planet and landing. The observation window was cracked. Emma frowned. If it happened on entry, then it was likely Jones hadn’t survived to the ground. She tried to ignore her racing heart as she ran over.
Behind the shattered visor was the bloodied face of Killian Jones. Emma’s heart jumped in her chest. It was with shaky hands she fumbled with the release mechanism. It hissed as the compressed air of the compartment escape with the breaking of the seal. That was a good sign the pod hadn’t been compromised on entry. A little bit of relief settled as it opened to reveal her quarry with two Class Seven Plasma Guns at his feet.
From the belt at her waist, she pulled out another handheld device. The medical scanner blipped to life as she held it over Killian’s prone body. She could see he was breathing but they were shallow. From another pocket, she produced a shot adrenaline. While she wasn’t a doctor, she had basic medical training as part of the requirements to become a Starfleet captain. She pressed the blunt tip over his jugular when his heartbeat pulsed just under his skin.
‘Come on, Jones,’ she whispered as the canister decompressed and the drug was sent racing to his heart. The moment it took dragged on. ‘Don’t you dare leave me, Killian.’
Then his eyes flew opened and he gasped. Emma let go of the breath she had been holding but didn’t manage to school her expression before Killian looked at her. ‘Hello, love,’ he said in a dazed tone. ‘It isn’t every day a beautiful princess comes to the rescue of a devilishly handsome rogue.’
Emma scoffed as Killian sat up, groaning at the pain he was in. Her med scanner showed as well as the gash on his forehead he had two broken ribs and bruising to his hip and pelvic region.
‘I’m only here to arrest you, Jones,’ she replied. ‘Care to explain the Class Sevens at your feet. They are embargoed under the Ezediah Treaty of Twenty-Two Eighty.’
‘That they are,’ he replied, pushing his thick black hair out the way of his eyes, wincing when his fingers glossed over the gash in his forehead.
Emma stepped back as Jones got to his feet. She pressed her communicator. ‘Captain to Bridge.’
She was greeted with cold static. Killian raised his eyebrows then bent over to pick up the two guns. ‘There is a force field through the atmosphere,’ he said, handing a gun to her. ‘It disrupts communication and teleportation.’ She blinked at the gun, recoiling from the powerful weapon. ‘Love, your phaser won’t do you any good here.’
‘And where is here, anyway?’
‘Told you; Neverland. A supposedly dead planet,’ he explained as he swung his plasma gun over his shoulder, ‘and the reason I was thrown out the Academy. Now take the bloody gun, Swan.’
He pushed it to her chest, leaving her no choice but to take the gun. She blinked at his words as he began to walk out the crater.
‘You weren’t thrown out,’ she called after him, mimicking his earlier movement of swinging the gun onto her shoulder. ‘You left. That is what you said to me when you were six planets away.’
He turned to face her. ‘You really think I would just up and leave?’ he asked her, his blue eyes boring into hers. He looked away. ‘Look, I found this place in the databanks. When I queried it, I was court-martialled. It was hushed up. Had I told you the truth then you would have been court-martialled as well.’
Killian began walking again, clutching his chest where his ribs were broken. Emma frowned as Killian climbed over the lip of the crater. She scrambled after him, using her hands for extra leverage as she climbed after him.
‘Why would the Federation cover this up?’ she asked once she was at his side again, wiping the beads of sweat forming on her brow.
‘They didn’t, per say,’ replied Killian. ‘This place, and whatever happened here. predate the Federation by a few hundred years. What happened here was done by the Alliance.’ He looked at her, his eyes going to her utility belt. ‘Tell me you have painkillers, Swan.’
Emma looked down then produced a tube, pressed it to his neck and let the solution infuse into his body with a hiss. He sighed in relief, cracking his neck. As he did so, a streak in the sky caught Emma’s eye. She didn’t need to be told it was the Jolly Roger. Killian seemed to sense it as well. He turned just as a Warp Drive exploded. Emma shielded her eyes as a second explosion rocked them.
‘So much for a quiet entrance,’ he muttered.
Emma turned to him with a glower. ‘What about your crew?’
‘You think I brought them out here, love?’ he asked. ‘Not a chance. Left them on the Auras.’
‘But you said –’
‘– what I needed to so you’d disengage your weapons, Swan,’ he cut in. ‘Now are you coming? We might as well find out why I was thrown out the academy while the mighty Starship Storybrooke figures out a way to reach her Captain.’
The trek through the forest was largely carried out in silence. As they walked Emma repeatedly tried to contact the Storybrooke only to be met with static. On one or two occasions, she was certain she heard Elsa cool voice trying to reach out but it was fleeting. Ahead of her Killian lead the way with a map on his PDA. It was evident he had come prepared and been planning this for a long time. It struck he had been planning this from the moment he was ordered off Osiris. He was slowing up, hobbling more as his pain relief wore off. She considered giving him more but also knew it was unethical without knowledge of how his injuries had developed over the past two hours.
Eventually, he stopped.
‘There we are Swan.’ Killian nodded his head ahead of him to a what looked like a tower reclaimed by nature. ‘The first sun will be down within the hour. We’ll need shelter anyway.’
‘What is this place?’ she asked as she took point, pulling out her phaser.
‘Outpost of some sort, or control tower,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. I was able to gain access to schematics of this place before the court martial but they aren’t particularly detailed. They do show a city another few hours trek away but we won’t make it before nightfall.’
‘You won’t make it much further tonight,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re injuries might be worse.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Killian. ‘That is a fair assumption to make.’
Emma frowned at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I’m telling you now,’ he said. ‘We needed to some sort of shelter before the first sun went down. It’s anyone’s guess what is out there.’ She looked out into the forest. It had been quiet through their trek, but it was likely that Killian’s crash had scared off the surrounding wildlife. ‘Look, to make it up to you love, I’ll lie back and let you do whatever checks you think necessary.’
Emma looked back at him. ‘It’s for your own good.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘How else will you bring me to justice if I die here.’
She shook her head, unwilling to get into that discussion. Emma stalked up to the outpost, noting the crumbling walls were covered in vines. She walked around the perimeter of the building looking for the door and finding it buried behind the crawling plants that had reclaimed the building. It was so thoroughly covered that Emma predicted it had left for over three hundred years. There was no way to access the door. In the dying light, Emma pulled out a torch and shone it up to examine the upper levels. Killian stood beside her, gazing upward with a grimace on his face.
‘We’re going to have to climb,’ she said. ‘Think you can manage it?’
‘Shoot me up with some more of that Oxycodone and it won’t matter,’ he said.
Emma frowned. ‘You could puncture your lung.’
‘And I’m not bloody well staying out here,’ he tilted his head to expose his neck. ‘Come on, Swan. Don’t leave a man hanging.’
She ground her teeth as she pulled the pain relief infuser from her belt and jabbed it into his neck. He sighed as the pain was relieved, then stood aside.
‘Ladies first,’ he toned with a bow.
Emma threw him a scathing look as she secured the gun he had given her over her back, curled her hand into the vine and began to climb.
The climb to the top was slow with her injured companion. On more than one occasion she found herself looking down to check on him as the forest around them filled with strange noises. Finding purchase in the climb on got harder as they reached the top. But she found a broken, exposed window that they would both be able to get through. Emma deployed all her skills to swing through it. After landing on the floor she pulled off her tunic and lay it over the opening in case there was any stray glass left in the fitting. She reached out to grab Killian, catching him below the elbow as she hauled him up.
‘Come on,’ she said as she wrapped her arms under his shoulders to pull him through.
She hauled him with both her arms around him. He pushed with his knees, propelling them over, Emma landing with an ‘offff’ as she broke his fall. Killian groaned in pain as he tries to capture his breath.
‘You okay Swan?’
‘Never better, Jones,’ she replied. ‘Mind getting off me. Forgotten how heavy you are.’
He pushed himself up, his blue eyes flickered over her face, his gaze intense. Emma’s breath caught as their eyes met. The tension that always lingered between them was suffocating in the mere centimetres of space between their faces. They had never managed to get this close to each other in the two years they had been crossing paths in the cat and mouse game that led here.
‘Killian,’ she said softly. ‘I need to check you over.’
He nodded, rolling off her and landed with a thump beside her. She looked over to see him clenching his face as he breathed, his hand cradling his injured side. Emma pushed herself up and pulled out her medical scanner to examine him for the second time. She frowned at the results.
‘We need to sit you up,’ she declared, offering her hand to him. ‘Lean against the wall.’
‘What is it?’
‘Punctured lung,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to figure out a way to make a chest drain.’
He scooted back to the wall with some difficult as Emma retrieved her tunic, shaking it out before she pulled it on again to cover her vest. She didn’t button it back on but pressed the communicator on her chest.
‘Captain to Bridge,’ she said but was only greeted by static.
‘Told you, Swan, there is an electromagnet disruption field around the whole planet,’ he said. ‘We’ll need to switch it off, or the Storybrooke will need to blow it up from her position above us.’
Emma scowled at him. ‘There is no harm in trying. You need the med bay more than a makeshift lung drain.’
‘Aye,’ he said, waving his hand. ‘All for my own good.’
She pulled her utility belt back on and got out the torch. ‘Something like that,’ she muttered.
The thin beam of light traced the brick walls. There were some vines, but there were also posters and what appeared to be newspaper cuttings adorning the walls. Emma looked at them, but the writing was faded beyond readable. This room looked to be a living space with a collapsed sofa and bed against either wall covered in moth-eaten fabric. There was also a table with a bowl and plates stacked on it. Whoever had been here must have left in some sort of hurry as there was evidence of other personal processions left.
‘I’m going to check downstairs,’ she informed her injured companion. ‘Just stay there.’
Without waiting for an answer she shone the torch down the stairs. With infinite care, she proceeded to navigate the stairs noting the were made with metal rather than wood. Still, she tested each step before putting her full weight on it. Falling through would be catastrophic. They would both die here together if she got badly hurt. Emma reached down to the next floor.
This room looked like a dorm. In the gloomy light, she could make out four bunks and a table. She shone her torch, checking the room. The thin beam of light landed on a skull. She screamed.
‘What is it, Swan?’ Killian’s voice echoed down from above.
‘There are human remains down here,’ she called back, pulling out her med scanner. She set it to analyse bone structure. ‘Didn’t expect it, is all,’ she continued as she held up the scanner.
Male. Late twenties to early thirties. Some vitamins deficient. Not enough to kill him.
The bones looked dried out, but she could see some evidence of the flesh having been eaten away which wasn’t unusual.
‘Check of a journal, or writing of some sort,’ yelled Killian. ‘He might have penned a letter in the hope someone found the poor sod.’
‘I’m more interested in a first aid kit,’ she called back. ‘I can have a better look tomorrow with some proper light.’
‘Check the kitchen area,’ he said.
She nodded, heading over to the next set of stairs. Emma had to ignore the urge to pull out her Phaser as a cold sweat formed at the base of her skull. She found the mess and common room on the next level. There was more evidence of human remains. Emma couldn’t help there was something amiss. She glanced back at the stairs pondering Killian’s earlier words that he had been court martialled for finding this place.
Why?
Emma searched the mess with her torch before going in and opening the cupboards. She came across cans, and bottles, picking up one with a faint label that declared the contents as being rum. The seal hadn’t been broken so there was, surprisingly, every chance it was preserved. Under the sink, she found what she was looking for. The kit was basic but had everything she needed to patch up Killian.
He was resting with his eyes closed when she returned, but he looked worse for wear. His skin was pale and bags under his eyes were pronounced. She’d never seen him like this. She knelt beside him, placed the medi-kit and rum by his hip before placing a hand on his forehead to test his temperature. He was clammy to touch.
‘Have I ever told you how much I missed you?’
Delirious too.
‘I’m sure if that were wholly true you wouldn’t have drugged me then cuffed me to a bed last night,’ she replied before putting the torch in her mouth to open the kit and bottle of rum.
‘Wasn’t just any bed, Swan,’ he said. ‘It was mine.’
She blinked as she brought the rum up to her nose. She wrinkled it at the harsh smell. Killian pulled it from her hands and put it to his lips.
‘Not bad,’ he declared after taking a swig.
‘Yeah, but it doesn’t mix well with Oxycodone,’ she said, snatching the bottle back. ‘Undo your shirt.’
She picked up the scalpel and opened its wrapping, then poured the rum over it while ignoring the expression on his face as he undid the buttons. It was the closest she’d get it to sterile. She looked over his exposed torso for a moment, then pulled out her med scanner again to help her decide where the put the drain.
‘Have you ever done this outside of a training room?’ he asked as the scan bleeped.
‘It’s going to hurt,’ she said, deflecting him.
In response, Killian grabbed the ancient rum and took another swig. ‘Don’t worry love, I’ve had far worse, just make it quick.’
She nodded, opening the pack with the kit with the drain. As she had done with the scalpel she doused it with rum.
‘Okay. Think happy thoughts,’ she said as she dug the blade in.
Killian yelled in pain, his deep voice reverberating about the small room. She tried to block it out as she put in the drain. Blood stained his dark shirt, but clear fluid escaped through the tube. Emma sighed, sitting back with a smile.
‘You okay?’ she asked, trying to keep the shake from her voice.
‘Better than you, Swan,’ he replied, holding out the bottle of rum. ‘You should take a sip of that.’
Summary - Captain Emma Swan of the Starship Storybrooke is two years into a five-year mission to explore space. Over the last two years, she has crossed paths with her former rival at the academy turned pirate Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger. However, her most recent pursuit of him finds her following him into dangerous territory and a rescue mission that uncovers a terrible secret on an abandoned planet on the edge of space.
Based on the edit set by @shipsxahoy here
Part One - Pursuit Through the Hostile Zone
‘Much as I enjoy our little encounters, Swan,’ Killian Jones said over drinks at a bar on the SS Auras. ‘I really do need you off my back.’
Fourteen hours later Captain Emma Swan woke up fully clothed but handcuffed to a bed with a communicator to the Storybrooke just in reach. She cursed to herself as she explained to the Head Engineer, Leroy, of her predicament. The usually grumpy man had laughed, painfully pointing out her weakness when it came to the roguish Captain before teleporting her, sans bed and cuffs, aboard her starship.
‘Not a word of this,’ she ordered before making her way to the bridge.
She marched through the corridors. The ship had over twenty miles of corridors but it was a blissfully short walk from the engineering department and bridge. At the elevator, she pushed her finger to the ID panel that provided the trip to the bridge. As she stepped in the automated voice of the ship’s AI greeted her in its cool voice.
‘Computer, order a report on the whereabouts of the Jolly Roger,’ she said as the lift began to move.
‘Yes Captain,’ responded the Computer. ‘We also picked up a transmission encoded so it could only be unlocked by you.’
‘Play.’
Killian Jones’ handsome, if smug, face filled the screen before her. ‘Hope there are no hard feelings over last night, love, but you really should have just walked away when I gave you the chance. Until next time.’
He smiled as he gave her a mock salute before the screen went black. She ground her teeth. Jones was the most infuriating person she had the misfortune to cross paths with. The worse thing was it kept happening. The first time had been a minor infraction on a lesser planet in the Aurilla Belt a mere two months into her mission but this was now the fourth time. The charges against him were much more serious now.
‘Computer, send me the coordinates the message was sent from,’ she requested as the doors opened.
‘Captain on the Bridge,’ called Ensign Henry Mills from his seat at the navigation screen prompting First Officer Elsa Snowbourne to rise from the Con.
‘Captain,’ she said, standing up and bowing her head. ‘I trust your evening was fruitful.’
The smirk on face suggested some previous knowledge of the position Emma had found herself in. Emma took her seat, sliding into the leather chair and crossing her ankles.
‘I was able to distract Jones for a short while, but he still has something of a head start over us,’ said Emma. ‘Where team two able to fully identify his cargo?’
‘We were able to identify several Class Four Warp Drives and some embargoed Class Seven Plasma Guns from Oebos,’ Elsa told her.
Emma looked up to see her First Officer in a stiff position, shoulders tense and hands behind her back. ‘What is he doing, Elsa?’
‘I wish I knew,’ she replied. ‘This doesn’t seem to be a black market run. While the Class Fours would sell in the right place, there is nowhere to sell the Class Seven’s. I’m at a loss as to where he actually found them.’
Emma nodded. ‘Thank you, Elsa.’
She glanced down at the screen embedded into the arm of her chair. It was full of the information collected on the location of the Jolly Roger. Emma drummed her fingers against the arm and sighed. ‘Mr. Loxley, I’m sending the last known coordinates and projected path of Jones. Set a course to follow.’
Robin Loxley looked at the information Emma had just sent him. ‘With all due respect, Ma’am, that is uncharted space.’
Beside him, Ensign Mills shook his head. ‘Ma’am,’ he piped up, ‘it isn’t just uncharted space.’ The young man got to his feet and walked to the large screen. ‘Auras is our most heavily guarded outposts,’ he explained, ‘because of this belt here.’ He pointed to an area blacked out on the map. ‘It’s Ji territory.’
Emma blinked, her fingers curling over the edges of her chair. ‘Can we punch through at warp?’
Captain Emma Swan didn’t like putting her crew in jeopardy, but the report on Jones’ cargo was enough to follow him through. The Ji weren’t capable of warp speeds hence Emma was pretty certain she could outrun them. Still, it made her blood run cold. She paced her study with her hands behind her back pondering what Jones was up to. More than once she spoke aloud to the ceiling in a desperate bid for answers. Jones might infuriate her but when she sat down with the evidence of his crimes she couldn’t make head nor tail of it.
A beep on her desk alerted her to a visitor. Emma looked up, pushing her bangs from her face. ‘Come,’ she yelled.
Elsa walked across the threshold. ‘We’re coming up on Jones,’ she said. ‘Appears he has retrofitted his ship with new warp drive.’
Emma nodded. ‘He always had a talent for mechanics and engineering,’ she said softly, leaning back on her desk.
Elsa nodded, her white hair bobbing as she walked further into the room, dropping the mask of First Officer. ‘He made his choice a long time ago, Emma,’ she said.
‘But why?’ Emma replied. ‘I can’t help but think…’ she trailed off. ‘What is he doing?’
‘I wish I knew.’
Before Emma could continue another notification rang on her console. ‘Swan,’ she called after pressing the accepted button.
‘We’re coming up on the Jolly,’ said Mr. Loxley.
‘Thank you,’ she said then looked at Elsa. ‘Shall we, Ms. Snowbourne?’
Elsa stepped back. ‘After you, Ma’am.’
Emma strode back onto the bridge adjusting her uniform as Elsa took her place at her station. ‘Hail Jones on all channels,’ she announced as she slipped back into her chair. ‘And lock on. If he doesn’t answer, we’ll blow him out the sky.’
The screen filled with his charming face, an infectious smile on his lips. ‘Captain,’ Killian said, ‘a joy to see you as always. A little sooner than I expected.’
‘This is a Class Eight Warp Ship, Jones,’ retorted Emma. ‘Even with your little stunt you could hardly outrun us.’
‘I would have despaired had we had the ability, Swan,’ he retorted. ‘Now kindly disengage love, you’re making my First Mate nervous.’
Emma nodded and with a hand signal the weapons system offlined. She looked at the man on the screen before her. If she looked out the window of the bridge she would see his small ship glinting in the distance. If they were alone, she would ask him why they were on the edge of space.
‘You need to surrender your ship, Jones,’ she said instead. ‘You are in violation of six Space Corps Directives as well as charges of piracy and smuggling lodged against you. I am authorised if you do not stand down to use force to bring you in.’
Killian gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Oh Swan, I love it when you threaten me. But aren’t you more interested in why I’ve brought you here?’
Emma blinked in a bid to keep her composure. ‘Okay, Jones,’ she says, with a quick flick of her eyes to Elsa. ‘I’ll bite.’
‘Take a look at your charts,’ he replies. ‘To your port side, you should see a ‘dead planet’, Neverland.’
Mills inputted a couple of commands into his console, reducing the window with Jones’s face so the screen before her is dominated with a map. Ji territory now sits behind her. Truth be told, there is a planet with dead status. Emma gets to her feet and walks towards the screen. Elsa is also on her feet, but her icy eyes remain on Killian.
‘Computer,’ Emma says quietly, ‘full status report on Neverland. Location binary; forty-five point nine, fifty, ten point eight.’
‘Neverland; forty-five point nine, fifty, ten point eight. Status: classified.’
Emma frowned as Killian’s smile grew wider.
‘Override; beta, sigma, eight, three, twenty,’ she said. ‘Report.’
‘Override confirmed,’ said the AI. ‘Neverland; forty-five point nine, fifty, ten point eight. Status classified.’
Emma growled in frustration.
‘I wouldn’t bother, love,’ said Jones, as if he pre-empted her next move. ‘Classification goes beyond the Federation. Beyond your father, even.’
Emma started at the reference to her family. She looked at Jones, his expression back to one of sympathy. Once again she wishes she were not on a bridge full of people as she speaks to this man. But before she is able to say anything more, the wail of a siren broke every thought process.
‘Ms. Snowbourne, report,’ she yells as she settles back into her seat.
‘Captain, we have incoming from a Ji Cruiser,’ yelled back her first officer. ‘Must have broken off from the group. I’m seeing three locked on Type Forty Missiles.’
‘Engage full shields,’ replied Emma. ‘Mr. Loxley, basic evasive manoeuvres. Ensign Mills, plot a course outside of their range but close enough to Neverland to survey it.’ She looked up at her screen to where Killian remained in the corner. He smiled in a rather self-indulgent manner suggesting what he saw pleased him. However, just above his head, a missile rocketed past the Storybrooke.
‘Killian,’ she said, looking at his screen. ‘You have incoming.’
Her words were too late as the screen burst into flame. In the distance, a supernova lit up, covering a small portion of the bridge window. Emma flew to her feet as the flames died. The Jolly Roger lost its stabilisation as it somersaulted towards Neverland. Emma grabbed her personal communicator at the sight of the ship glinting against the light of a G-type main sequence star situated two hundred thousand million kilometres to their starboard position.
‘Killian,’ she yelled as she fell back into her seat as she watched the Jolly Roger get dragged into the orbit of Neverland.
‘Detected emergency shuttle deployment,’ called Ms Lucas from her radar station. ‘Captain’s beacon identified.’
Emma spun to look at her third officer. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ replied Ms Lucas.
Emma nodded. ‘Ms Snowbourne, you have the Con.’
Emma surged to her feet and headed to the elevator. Instead of going to the Captain’s chair, Elsa followed Emma, grabbing her arm at the elevator.
‘It’s a dead planet,’ whispered Elsa as Emma wheeled around.
Emma looked to the ceiling. ‘Computer, real time analysis of Neverland. Location binary; forty-five point nine, fifty, ten point eight.’
The Captain’s wrist strap bleeped as the information was transmitted there. She looked at Elsa. ‘What type of dead planet has a full ecosystem with an atmosphere for human survival?’
Elsa frowned. ‘Nothing this far from Osiris is terraformed. Emma, I know you still care for him, but this is suicide.’
‘Ms Snowbourne, we have a duty to bring the crew of the Jolly in alive,’ she said. ‘If I am not successful, you are required to report back to High Command and my parents before continuing our mission.’
Summary - They've promised to move on from the hurt caused to each other as the Dark One. But Emma Swan has something more on her mind that settles like a lead weight in her stomach as she thinks on all the times she neglected to tell Killian Jones just how long she has loved him.
The last time they stood in this diner together, alive and whole, was in none too dissimilar circumstances Emma muses darkly to herself as Granny hands her a glass of wine. Killian had been saved from death after sacrificing himself for her in the Author’s twisted world. Of course, this time around, his demise should have been of a more permanent nature. Thankfully, one of the most powerful beings in the universe disagreed.
There is a celebratory mood in the air, but it is softly subdued as the town remains in mourning for their lost brother. However, much to her delight, it’s clear the townsfolk are willing to welcome Killian back into their lives. Over the course of the evening, he is graced with many a smile, kind word and handshakes before they call it quits for the night.
Henry had earlier text to say he would be with Regina, neither of whom reappeared after going to restore magic to Storybrooke, but as the couple reach their home she’s glad it will just be them. Emma tightens her grip on Killian’s ring clad fingers. They discussed keeping the house in the Underworld, pondering if they could banish the dark words they had exchanged their and the secrets buried beneath. They came to the conclusion that yes, they could.
It was meant to be their home. Nothing changed that.
Still, it feels odd crossing the threshold together. But she's ready. So is he. Besides, it’s about keeping her armour off. After all, Killian did move on as promised. He had relayed the story to her in the quiet moments they spent together before facing the music at Robin’s wake. Emma had openly wept as he spoke of the moment he followed the light. Tears had filled his eyes at the memory but it is she he is focussed on caring for. His thumb brushed the salty rivers under her eyes away, fingers dancing across her cheeks before kissing her with promises whispered against tear stained lips.
Once there inside, they both pause to look around, its sterile and doesn’t look much like a home. Emma didn’t have need of personal possessions as the Dark One. But she is certain it won’t remain that way. Emma steps up to Killian, her hand sliding in his, head laying on his shoulder, nuzzling into the soft leather and his hard shoulder. Eyes drifting shut because she missed him. Missed this.
Killian turns, lips brushing her hairline with a tender kiss. ‘Come on love,’ he mummers softly, leading her up the stairs.
--//--
She promised to sleep for a week. An impractical promise to make when sharing a bed with Killian Jones. Emma’s ability to resist him had flown out the window from the moment they had first made love in the wake of their second date. It seemed like an age ago. An innocent time as they explored the true depth of their feelings for one another. Alone now, and at least physically whole, their desire to rest was hampered by the very real need to be together in every intimate way possible. They were both determine to relearn every inch of each other so when they fell asleep, limbs entwined and partially sated, they had made love several times over.
They repeat the pattern of sleep and love making for nearly three days, letting the bind of True Love tie them as tightly together as possible. Eventually, though, Emma wakes with the sun high in the sky, body moulded to her lover with a lead weight sitting in her stomach. Her fingers brush tenderly though the soft hair of his chest. She closes her eyes, nuzzling closer in a bid to gain more contact.
‘What is it love?’ he asks, his fingers ghosting over the base of her spine leaving tiny goose bumps in their wake.
She hadn’t even realised he was awake.
When she doesn’t answer with anything bar the stilling of her fingers on his chest he rolls on to his side and slides down a bit so their eyes meet. Emma moans at the loss of contact as his other arm rests on her hip but she is quickly pulled close again. They press their foreheads together, looking at one another while her fingers now stroke patterns over the crook of his elbow up to his shoulder and back again. Her eyes dart over what she can see of his face in such close proximity, but they always slide back to his deep blue eyes.
It’s all about her armour; naked and vulnerable as she is right now, there is something buried deep in her soul she has never revelled to him. It only came to the fore at the scales on which she was to measure the weight of her love. Even as she had told him she didn’t know whether what they shared was true love, she knew otherwise. She had known for a long time. Although Emma tries not to regret the past, she wishes she had told this man, this wonderful, beautiful, loving man, that she loved him the moment she had realised it herself.
‘I…’ she starts, then blinks.
Killian doesn’t speak, he never does in these moment, just gives her a gentle expression that asks her to tell him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.
‘Swan,’ he replies, his tone warning.
She places a finger to his lips. They promised in the Underworld, after he had decided he was worth saving and could forgive himself, that they would never apologise again for the hurt they had caused each other as the Dark One. Neither one wanted to hang that sword over the head of the other.
‘No, it’s not that, Killian, I…’ she pauses again, her hand sliding over his shoulder to cup his cheek. ‘I’m sorry for even partially doubting that what we share is True Love. Not when I’ve…’
The look in his eyes transforms, softening to deep cobalt. ‘When you’ve?’ he prompts her gently as tears start to form in her eyes.
‘I’ve loved you since we were in Neverland,’ she says softly, her thumb tracing his cheek bone. ‘But, with Henry being kidnapped, and finding out Neal was still alive, then Pan’s curse coming…’
Killian chuckles deep in his chest. ‘Not to mention all those walls of yours,’ he said a little ruefully.
Emma chuckles too. ‘They’re never coming up again,’ she whispers against his lips as they tumble back into each other’s arms.
