I know it’s August but the holidays feel fast approaching and with that my mind turns to this event.
I know the Once Upon a Time and Captain Swan fandom has dwindled over the years and with that events have begun to disappear. This being one of the last standing.
I don’t wish to see the event go but I don’t know if I have it in me to run this event or even if there is any more willing participants.
If there is interest in this event maybe I can do one last year or if anyone is available to co run it/run it in my stead.
PLEASE INTERACT WITH THIS POST AND BOOST IT IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE THIS EVENT CONTINUE! REBLOG COMMENT ADD TAGS! LIKES MEAN NOTHING BECAUSE I CANT DETERMINE MEANING BEHIND THEM!
Surprise @stahlop !! We got each other for @cssecretsanta2020 🥰❤️
When you mentioned that you loved Captain Swan as the Dark Ones I was so excited because I knew exactly what I was going to draw. Hope you enjoy this very special Dark Ones version of sitting on Santa's lap. Emma's asking for world domination this year, Killian's only too happy to oblige ✨
Summary: Hurting Killian Jones was the easiest way to end up on the top of Emma's most despised people list
Rating: T
Warnings: This story is anti-Milah (just the story, not the author!). Also, alcohol use because... it’s me.
AO3
A/N: Happy Holidays, @eddisfargo!! Tis I, your @cssecretsanta2020!! I’ve had fun getting to know you these past few weeks and I tried to give you a nice little Hurt/Comfort gem for you to enjoy on Christmas (even if you don’t celebrate)! I really hope you like it!! (Also, as mentioned above, I personally am not anti-Milah. I just went with what worked for the idea I had!)
-----
The list of people that Emma Swan well and truly despised was a very short one. Her birth parents, obviously, for abandoning her on the side of the road like some discarded drive-thru garbage. Neal Cassidy for taking advantage of a young girl and her innocence. Walsh Ozmand for taking advantage of her willingness to give love a second chance. They all ranked very high on the list.
But in that moment, as she sat watching her boyfriend try to give a police report to her brother David and not completely lose it, all she could think about was how Milah Gold had just shot her way to the very top of the list.
Killian’s apartment around the trio was in absolute shambles. Electronics smashed, lamps busted, nearly every piece of furniture upended or destroyed. Even the food from the fridge had been thrown all over the kitchen.. and dining area… and living room. There had been passion behind the destruction. That alone probably would have given away who had caused it all.
But the message on Killian’s bathroom mirror written in Emma’s fiery red lipstick was concrete proof that it had been his train wreck of an ex-girlfriend. That and the fact that the only valuables missing were the ones most precious to Killian. The ones only someone close enough to him would have known where to find them and why losing them would devastate him.
Emma could see it, the way Killian was struggling to hold himself together. The jaw ticking, the pained look in his eyes that made them seem like the coldest ice. He was hurting, and trying so hard not to let it show.
And it made her want to punch something. Namely the chaotic brunette that had done this horrible thing just five days before Christmas.
“And you’re sure there’s nothing else you can tell me?” David asked for the half-dozenth time. “You’re sure you don’t know where she might be or who might’ve helped her do this?”
“Bloody hell, Dave! No!” Killian snapped and Emma jumped up from where she was sitting across from him.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for now.” She looked at her brother pointedly as she placed herself down on the couch next to her boyfriend. “You got all the answers we can give you.”
David’s face held a look that was a cross between sympathy and frustration. She knew it likely wasn’t directed at Killian himself - he was David’s best friend, after all. She knew it had more to do with the fact that they all found themselves in this situation to begin with. That Killian was being put through so much pain yet again by someone who had made the last several years of his life difficult.
Still, she stared her brother down until he rolled his eyes and nodded. He pocketed his notebook and turned back to the deputies who had been busy gathering evidence. With David’s focus now elsewhere, Emma was able to give her full attention back to Killian.
“I’m sorry, love.” He mumbled, absently rubbing at his scarred left hand. “I didn’t mean to snap.” His gaze was focused on where his fingers massaged the damaged flesh. “I didn’t mean for any of this,” Killian finally lifted his eyes towards hers and she could see the shame there. “I’m sorry our date night was ruined.”
Reaching out, Emma took his left hand into her right and began running her thumb soothingly over his knuckles. “Hey, stop it.” She scolded gently. “You didn’t do this. You couldn’t have known she was going to do this.”
“Aye, but I should have suspected something when she wouldn’t stop calling and texting.” Killian muttered. “I should have-”
Emma pressed her forehead to his, reaching up with her free hand to place it against his cheek. “Shh.” It was all she needed to express for him to go quiet. His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed himself against her heavily. She could feel the tremors going through him, at him trying still to keep his emotions in check.
A throat clearing had them pulling apart and turning their attention to David, who was standing off awkwardly to the side. “Sorry,” He grimaced. “I’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but…” He gestured around at the deputies who were starting to clear out. “We’re done here and since it’s technically still an active crime scene…”
Killian nodded. “Yes, right.” He looked at Emma with faux cheer. “Mind if I stayed at yours tonight, Swan?”
It was his turn to get a pointed look from her. He nodded again and pushed himself to his feet quickly.
“I’ll just…” He paused as he began making his way in the direction of the bedroom. “It’s alright if I try and salvage some clothes and toiletries, aye?” The way he asked it towards David, in a quiet and uncertain tone, made Emma’s heart clench and the angry fire still simmering in her belly to flare up hotter.
David offered Killian a nod. “Yeah, that’s okay.” Emma knew it likely wasn’t, that everything in the apartment could be considered evidence that could help. But at that moment, David was being the best friend instead of the officer.
With a jerk of his head, Killian turned on his heels and headed down the hallway.
“I’m gonna kill her.” Emma snapped as soon as she knew he was out of earshot.
“You do know saying that in front of a cop is not the smartest choice, right?”
She looked up to see Detective Nolan was firmly back in place. Emma shrugged in her usual ‘does it look like I give a fuck?’ kind of way and she got the patented older brother sigh and eye roll in response.
“Emma, I get it.” He knelt down in front of her. “The fact that she did all this, deliberately to hurt Killian? It’s fucked up and it doesn’t exactly fill me with the warm and fuzzies,” She could see the suppressed ire, much like her own, burning behind his eyes. “But we can’t just… go off and hunt her down and punish her like a couple of vigilantes.”
“Actually,” Emma blinked at him innocently. “Hunting people down is kinda my thing, if you hadn’t heard.” It was true. She worked in bail bonds, after all.
The exasperated brother look was back in David’s gaze. “I mean it, Emma. I don’t want to have to arrest you for assault. Again.” Emma opened her mouth to argue and he put a hand over her mouth. “Yes, I know. Walsh deserved it. And so does Milah. But we have to play by the rules. That’s what makes us the good guys, remember?” She made a dissatisfied noise against his hand and he sighed. “I know. Just… will you promise me you won’t put him through any more pain this week by… well, being you?”
In response, Emma licked his hand indignantly. David groaned in disgust, pulling it away. He glared at her. “Real mature, Emma.”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, David.” She glared right back. The sound of Killian making his way across the hall into the bathroom had them both looking in his direction sharply. He didn’t seem to notice they were in a sibling ‘discussion’.
“I know that,” David hissed as they returned to looking at each other while Killian was still distracted. “I just don’t want him to have to bail you out of jail… again… two days before Christmas.”
“As if I’d need that long.”
“Emma!”
She sighed and sat back against the couch cushions. “Okay, fine.” She crossed her arms huffily. “I promise not to do anything that you’ll need to arrest me for.”
David watched her suspiciously, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Believe her about what?”
They both jumped slightly at Killian’s return to the room, and the conversation. The pair looked over at him to find him standing with a lone backpack slung over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in suspicion of his own as he watched them with a knowing look.
“Just talking about Christmas.” Emma filled in quickly before David could so much as utter a word. She hopped up from the couch, making sure to pat her brother on the cheek before stepping over to her boyfriend. Her gaze softened as she reached up to brush at the hair at the nape of his neck. “You ready to go?”
Killian continued to eye her questioningly for a moment, but then let out a sigh and glanced around the apartment. Emma could see the war he was fighting with his emotions was starting to drain him drastically. He gave a small, defeated nod.
She reached down and laced her fingers through his, offering a loving smile, before nudging him towards the apartment’s front door. As they went, Emma made sure to throw one last sweet look towards her brother over her shoulder that caused him to pull in a deep breath and run a tired hand over his face.
—--
For as restrictive and sexist as her honey trap wardrobe usually was, Emma had to admit that it was more than worth it in that moment as she sat gazing around the swanky, high-end bar she currently found herself in. Nobody seemed to be questioning her presence in such an establishment. Nobody seemed to care that she wasn’t really part of their crowd. She looked the part and that’s all that really mattered.
That’s all she had needed to get in. And getting in was key if she was going to have the interaction she’d been fantasizing about the past two nights.
She knew she had promised her brother, and then later that same night her boyfriend, that she wouldn’t do anything rash in regards to Milah. Killian hadn’t been so caught up in his own distress over Milah’s breaking and entering (and destroying and stealing) that he hadn’t quickly caught onto what her and David had really been discussing while he’d gathered his things.
“You’re an open book to me, Swan, remember?” He’d gestured at her with the glass of rum in his hand, propped up on his elbow on her kitchen island with the bottle more than half-empty before him. She hadn’t had the heart to deny him his vice that evening, or to lie to him that she was thinking of tracking Milah down for a “chat”. Even in his distraught, drunken state, Killian had been earnest in his pleas for her to not get mixed up with his ex in such a way. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want the stain of her to splash onto Emma in any way.
Except it already had. As she sat in that bar, sipping her vodka soda with lime, she thought back to Killian passing out with his head in her lap as they laid in bed later that night. About the silent tears that had slid down his cheek before he finally succumbed to the alcohol and exhaustion. The way he whimpered his brother’s name in his sleep, and how it took her softly brushing her fingers through his hair to get him to settle. About the ache in her that had settled like lead at how lost and vulnerable he’d been. How he was clearly just… hurting. The stain of that had seeped into her heart, and had been that way for two days now, and had been impossible to ignore.
Milah was impossible to ignore, no matter what David or Killian thought or said. Not until Emma handled it herself.
Which is exactly what she was doing now.
It hadn’t taken much research into Milah, beyond what she’d already known over the years from knowing Killian, to figure out where she would have slunk her way to after the destruction at Killian’s apartment. Ever since the woman had been dropped by her husband for a younger woman, Milah had been trying her best to maintain the lifestyle being Mrs. Robert Gold had always afforded her. Aesop’s Tables was the place to be for the city’s wealthy and famous. If there was any place Milah was going to actively be prowling in search of a new source of income, this would be it.
And all the while, still trying to get back the adventurous fling she had so readily chucked aside when it seemed divorce, and thus a loss of status and money, was initially imminent. Of course that hadn’t gone over as smoothly as Milah had anticipated. Killian had moved on from her and had absolutely zero interest in reliving the shame and betrayal being with her had brought into his life. He’d found his person, and it wasn’t Milah Gold.
And lucky for him, his person was Emma Swan. And there wasn’t a damn thing she wasn’t ready to do to make sure the world stopped hurting him.
Like tracking a bitter and jealous ex who had ransacked his place and stolen his most precious valuables over his rejection.
That was the real reason Emma had ultimately made the decision to go against Killian’s wishes and find Milah herself. Not to hurt her, not really. As much as the urge was there to make sure Milah felt the pain she’d inflicted on Killian, Emma knew David had been right. It wouldn’t do any good to be put in jail and have Killian have to deal with that on top of everything else. No. What Emma really wanted was to get his things back. The things that had him crying himself to sleep in her lap just a couple nights prior.
Which was why, when she finally spotted Milah flirting up to some guy in a suit over at the bar, her fingers wrapped around a chain hanging from her neck, Emma left her drink sitting at the table and moved with purpose in her direction.
“Oh my goodness,” She gushed with a faux poshness to her tone as she neared the other woman. “Is that truly Milah Gold?” The mere mention of the last name had the man Milah was talking to stiffen. “Darling, it’s been ages!”
“I’m sorry, I’m thinking you have the wrong woman.” Milah laughed nervously, glancing between Emma and the man who was looking more than a bit uncomfortable.
Emma moved into Milah’s space in a way that she was sure would make Killian proud had he not completely disapproved of this whole interaction before it had ever happened to begin with. “Oh no, I’m quite certain I’d know Milah Gold anywhere!” She made sure to put extra emphasis on the name this time and reached out to gently extract the chain from Milah’s grasp and pull the rest of the jewelry out from the confines of her dress. Sure enough, hanging at the end of its length was a ring.
“You and your one of a kind bling are impossible to mistake.” Emma seated herself onto the stool the man had just quickly vacated, the smile sickly sweet on her face.
Understanding and sudden recognition flashed in Milah’s eyes. “Ah yes, I do know you.” She moved in closer to Emma menacingly. “You’re that Swan girl.”
“Always nice to make an impression.” Emma grinned and shrugged a shoulder with a playful roll of her eyes.
“You know, he was always obsessed with you.” Milah spat with jealous venom. “The independent little sister of his idiot best friend who hardly gave him the time of day. It’s pathetic, really, how he yearned for such a lost little girl. It’s no wonder you’re the classless filth he’s followed me with. You are suited for each other. Nothings that the world never really wanted.”
Emma squeezed her hand around the chain still laying against her palm, causing Milah to gasp as she was yanked even further into Emma’s space. “Says the woman who trashed an apartment and stole the things of said ‘nothing’. Things that I’m here to get back.” Emma yanked the chain hard and Milah yelped as it snapped against the back of her neck, causing her to stumble out of Emma’s space a bit. The ring stayed dangling from the slack hanging from Emma’s hand.
“How dare you!” The other woman hissed and reached out to grab at the jewelry.
And was promptly met by Emma’s fist hitting her square in the nose. Milah cried out and fell back onto the empty stool behind her, hand coming up to try and stop the blood now gushing down her face. A silence fell over the bar as all eyes turned to take in what had just happened.
Emma stepped up closer to the woman who was now staring at her with shocked eyes over her blood-soaked hand. “Killian Jones isn’t a ‘nothing’ and never has been. You’ll have the rest of his things returned by the start of the new year. And if I ever find out you’ve inserted yourself into his life ever again, a broken nose will be the least of your worries.” Milah moved to say something and Emma pressed her hand over the one Milah had up against her face, causing her to moan at the pain it caused. “Easy now. Don’t wanna ruin your reputation around here even more than I just did.”
With that, Emma turned on her heels and sauntered out of the bar with her gaze intent on the ring resting in her palm, a satisfied smile on her face.
—--
“There you are.” Killian’s warm voice, the hint of rum on his breath, came just over her shoulder as he stepped up behind her on her brother’s balcony, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a gentle kiss against her neck. “I couldn’t find you and was starting to wonder if you’d been run over by a reindeer.”
Emma snorted and turned in his embrace, finding him smiling goofily down at her. His cheeks were a bit flush from the cold and the rum, but his eyes were alight with joy and love. Spending time with their friends and family had clearly helped ease some of the pain he’d been carrying all week.
“I’m not surprised you couldn’t find me.” She reached up and pulled the Santa hat that was partially obscuring his vision up a bit. “How can you even see with this stupid thing like this.”
“Hey now!” Killian batted at her fiddling hand gently. “It’s not stupid! It’s Christmas!” He deliberately pulled the hat back down so the white fuzz was in his eyes.
Shaking her head, Emma pressed up on her toes to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. Killian hummed in approval, tightening his grip around her waist and pulled her flush against him. After a few long moments, Emma pulled back and smiled lovingly up at him.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Killian licked his lips. “But what was that for?” Even though she couldn’t see it past the white fluff, Emma was sure his eyebrow had quirked up with the question.
She shrugged. “It’s Christmas.” Her answer made Killian beam and she wrapped her arms around his waist in the same way she was still wrapped in his. “And I’m just glad to see you enjoying yourself tonight.”
Some of the light dimmed from Killian’s eyes. “Aye.” He nodded and then glanced away from her to stare out into the darkness over the railing of the balcony. “I know I’ve been spending these last several days…”
“Brooding?” Emma teased and she grinned as he snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Aye, brooding.” He appeased her attempt at humor with a nod before finding her gaze once more. “Thank you, Swan. For allowing me time to wrap my head around what happened. And for not going off half-cocked in some ill-advised idea of vengeance.”
Emma couldn’t stop herself from dropping her eyes from his and pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth.
Killian gaped, scandalized. “Emma Swan, please tell me you didn’t!”
“I didn’t!” Emma defended, looking at him again.
“Emma!” Killian scolded, going to pull out of her arms.
She held on tightly, pulling him back to her. “I promise I didn’t do anything bad… Except punch her.” At Killian’s disapproving sigh, she was quick to hurry on. “But it wasn’t out of vengeance. Not in the way you think.”
Emma moved her hands to his hips and pushed him back some. Killian crossed his arms and watched her intently, an expectant look on his face that said her reasoning for betraying his wishes better be damn good.
Reaching up, Emma pulled at the chain hanging around her neck until a ring revealed itself from beneath her sweater. She watched as Killian’s face went from a look of frustration to one of overwhelming emotion.
“Bloody hell,” He whispered, tears instantly making his eyes shine. He stepped the short distance back to her and reverently reached for the ring. “Swan, I…”
“I wasn’t going to let her take Liam’s ring from you.” She whispered back before dipping her head so she could pull the chain up over it. She gently deposited it in his scarred hand, closing his fingers around it. “I don’t care how much you said it wasn’t important. I know it was. Is.”
Killian blinked through his tears, glanced from his closed palm to her with a look of exasperated affection. Before she could say anything else in her own defense, Emma found herself pressed back against the railing, Killian’s free hand around her back to steady her as he kissed her fiercely. She savored it, feeling his tears fall onto her cheeks.
And then almost as quickly as he’d come, he was spinning away from her with a disbelieving laugh. He paced a few steps away and then glanced at her with that same exasperated, loving look.
“Does that mean you’re not mad at me?” She asked with a small, playful, hopeful smile.
“Oh, I’m bloody frustrated as hell that you went and dealt with that woman and didn’t bloody tell me.”
Emma tilted her head slightly. “Then why were you laughing?”
Killian shook his head and grinned, dropping his gaze to the ground as he turned to face her head on. “I had planned to wait another week.” Planting his feet, he chuckled as he reached up with his free hand into the inner pocket of his tacky Christmas blazer.
Emma’s eyes widened as she saw what he pulled from within it.
hi there @ilovemesomekillianjones! here’s chapter three of my @cssecretsanta2020 gift to you! thank you for being so understanding and patient (still. because i am the absolute worst!).
run, run rogers (chapter 3 of 4)
SUMMARY: The last thing Emma Swan expected to be doing on Christmas Eve was last minute Christmas shopping. But Neal's genius left her in the lurch, and she needs to fix things. And the Uber trip to get this all done? It'll cost her.
RATING: M for Mature (may go up)
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4,284 words
TAGS: Captain Swan, Holiday, Uber Driver Killian Jones
AO3
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Special shoutout to @mariakov81 who worked with me to create this magnificent piece to showcase the chaos that was chapter two! So much love and appreciation -- thank you!!!! <3 love how this came out!!!!
And another very special shoutout to @snowbellewells who looked over this chapter for me as I was unsure about some moments in it, and she ended up fixing a bunch of my grammar and tense issues. A true blessing!!! Very grateful and appreciative for her help as well!!!! Thank you!!! <3 <3
***
Henry Bear’s Park.
It’s the last store of the night. Her last chance.
Brick overlay covers the top quarter of the store’s façade, white lettering spelling out its name. She’d never been in it before and didn’t even know what she was looking for, but the place has good reviews and Emma figures she’ll know what to get when she sees it. Plus, it’s got her kid’s name in it – that has to mean something, right?
Red carpet covers the floor and the walls are painted with lime green and orange, the colors alternating with each pillar. Shelves line the perimeter walls of the door, item display stands forming the configuration of the store. There’s soft plush animals, puzzles, and sporting goods spread throughout. A lacrosse stick crosses her vision and she’s tempted to grab him the equipment but ultimately decides against it. Henry’s never been one for sports, soccer holding only a passing interest two years ago, so she can’t think of a worse gift.
Standing in the middle of the store, Emma feels like a failure. Nothing there is catching her eye as a worthy gift for Henry, and the ticking of the large clock behind the register echoes in her ears despite the high volume of customers milling around her. She wonders if they all forgot a prized gift on someone’s wish list or if their significant other dropped a surprise family member on their doorstep for dinner and festivities.
The faint sounds of Christmas music wafts through the air as her eyes peruse each and every object in the store. There are books she passes by, ones too young for Henry’s reading level and others he already owns, action figures she decides against as he’s begun to grow out of them, and trading cards which never held his interest.
She nearly gives up, her eyes glancing at the clock to see the time reads 8:26, when a line of figures on display beside the registers catch her eye.
The figures are wooden, hand-carved by the looks of it, and shaped with intricate detail. They resemble different fairytale characters and it reminds her immediately of the story that Henry’s crafting. He leaves Post-It notes and scraps of paper for it all over their new house, and the sight always brings her joy, even if she’s constantly picking it up. Throughout her time in foster homes, she kept her belongings closely guarded. Anything she had, she locked away in the small duffle bag she hid underneath her bed, a parting gift from a former foster family so she didn’t have to use a garbage bag as they sent her back to the group home.
Henry’s scribbles were a sign of his comfort and trust in her and was the greatest gift she ever could have asked for.
“Hello, Miss?”
Emma turns around to find an elderly man behind her. White hair rounding his head, he’s dressed smartly with a nametag pinned to his vest that states ‘Marco’. His smile is small but kind and a bead of sweat trails down his temple, his hands wringing together for a moment as he gathers his breath to speak again. The shop has been packed since Emma walked in and she’s sure it’s the cause of Marco’s exhaustion.
“Can I help you find anything?” he asks, an Italian accent coloring his words.
“Those figures… I’d like to buy them.” Her hand points to the display and her smile is wide. The weight that has laid on her chest since dinner at Neal’s has finally lifted and she feels relief flood her system. The holiday isn’t going to be a total waste. A gift, a perfect gift, sits in front of her and she can already imagine the glee on Henry’s face as he unwraps it.
“Oh…”
That simple word, said with such pained hesitance, grips her ankle and pulls her swiftly down from cloud nine. Her heartbeat echoes loudly in her ears as Marco’s eyebrows pinch together and a frown mars his features. “My apologies, Miss. Unfortunately those are not for sale.”
“What?”
“They’re not for sale.”
Desperation clings to her throat, words difficult to come by. She licks her lips and eyes the figures frantically. “If someone’s already bought them, I will pay triple. Or just name your price and I’ll pay it. Please, it’s for my son.”
Marco shakes his head at her, smiling sadly. “They haven’t been purchased, they just are not for sale. They were crafted by my son. We lost touch some years ago,” the old man says, sucking in a breath as tears glisten in his eyes. “And these were the last things we worked on together before he left.”
It’s as if with those words the world caves in on her. Emma nods absentmindedly through his apologies, offers for her to come back on January 2nd if she’d like to special order a duplicate of the set he could make her, and ushering her out of the store as they close.
Stepping onto the sidewalk outside of the store, the stragglers of last-minute shoppers filing out behind her, she stands in a state of shock until the click of the store’s lock behind her brings her out of her stupor.
The breaking of her heart rings loudly in her ears as her eyes sting and begin to blur.
She’s failed him.
She had all night to find Henry a new gift, a perfect gift, for him to open at her house that’s not the same exact things Neal decided to give him, and she couldn’t even do that. Swallowing down a sob, the image of Henry’s smile dimming into disappointment projects itself in her mind. He’d do his best to conceal it, manage to meagerly grin through his confusion, and try not to let on how much he was let down. It tears at her.
Emma comes back to the car, tears in her eyes as she approaches. Killian is leaning against the passenger door with her coat and scarf slung over his left arm, and she can see Will sitting inside the car behind him, playing Candy Crush on his phone. The moment he spots her, Killian stands up straight, gaze roaming over her person. “Swan, are you okay?”
She chokes back a cry and blinks furiously. “I’m done. I’ve failed and completely ruined Christmas for Henry.”
“That’s not possible, Emma.”
“No, trust me, it is.”
“This isn’t your fault, you have to know that.”
“It is, because I knew my ex was an asshole and I should have expected him to ignore the explicit instructions I gave him like he ignores everything else because it’s such a Neal thing to do. If it isn’t directly about him, then he just wings it. And now I’m left with nothing to gift Henry tomorrow morning. He has nothing to open under the tree except what he already got! How does that make it a great Christmas?”
Her feet travel back and forth in front of Killian’s car. Hands clenched at her sides, all she wants to do is scream at the top of her lungs and lock Neal out of her and Henry’s life for good. All he’s done since finding out about Henry is disrupt the small foundation of stability that Emma has built for her kid. Their lives would have been much better without him in it.
But she knows she can’t cut him out, especially not when she admits that he’s not a terrible father. Sure, most of the time he acts more like a friend than a parent, and she suspects that’ll cause issues in the future, but her kid is smart and he can already see the cracks in Neal’s façade, the pedestal created when finding his father already beginning to crumble.
Still, it was Neal’s actions that led her to this moment. Christmas Eve without a new gift for Henry.
Every time he unwrapped a gift in Neal’s living room, a bright smile on his face and exclamations of the gift being exactly what he wanted, she forced a smile as her stomach dropped. Swallowing was a difficult task and anger brewed in her chest. There were specific items on Henry’s list that Emma didn’t get, leaving them to Neal. And now Henry won’t get them at all.
“Henry’s going to be so upset,” she says to herself, blurred eyes cast on the pavement.
She didn’t even realize she’d begun to pace until she feels Killian’s hands on her shoulders bringing her to a stop. “Henry’s a bright lad. He’s not going to care as long as you still make it a great day for the two of you.”
“I don’t know how I can do that,” she whispers. “I don’t want him to have the Christmases I had.” Tears completely block her vision without her permission and she hiccups as she speaks. “I want better for him. I want to give him everything he ever wished for.”
Her mind recalls Henry’s letter to Santa once more in her head. It was by no means extravagant but it presented a multitude of options. Options she couldn’t take advantage of now.
Though they’re several steps from the car now, her eyes zero in on Will’s phone through the window. Snow slowly starts to fall from the sky, and she watches as small flakes drift towards Rogers. At least Henry will have a white Christmas, she thinks lamely to herself. Not that it is anything she actually did for him though.
Killian brings her focus back to him when he offers a handkerchief to her. It hadn’t even registered to her that the wetness on her cheeks wasn’t the newly fallen snow and instead was her tears having spilled over. She sends him a small, grateful smile before cleaning her face, taking deep breaths. She presses the cloth to her eyes until she sees stars dotting the back of her lids.
“I just want him to have something new, something just for him that he hasn’t gotten already. Something that’s his.” Her voice is low enough that she’s surprised he even heard her behind the handkerchief. As in tune with her as if they were one, he gently moves her hands away from her face.
There’s a gaze in his eyes like he can see to her soul, and it unnerves her for a moment. Killian reads her like an open book, like every expression she allows to grace her features and every wall she’s built is familiar to him. She wonders how that came to be.
“Wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger.” Emma eyes him wearily. “Tell me? I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Suddenly bashful at his request, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his winter coat, and Emma sniffs, admiring the sight. He’s usually so cool and calm, collected even in stressful situations.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she chokes out, offering a tiny, watery smile.
“The beginning is always a good place.”
She’s not sure what makes her do it. Perhaps it’s the snow falling, drawing them into their own little world where the pain doesn’t hit as hard or the impossible feels real. Or maybe it’s that look in his eyes, the one that is starting to remind her of herself. The one that seems to mirror every hurt she’s experienced and is beginning to understand the struggle of getting through it.
Drawing a shaky breath, Emma nods to herself. It’s like her mind is full of crossed wires or tangled Christmas lights and she has to close her eyes to get a semblance of organized thought. Then it all spills out.
“My parents abandoned me as a baby. They didn’t even bring me to a hospital. Just left me on the side of the highway to die like roadkill.” She kicks her toe at the ground, frowning as she realizes she left a mark on her brand-new boots. Not enough snow has fallen yet to have softened the blow. “From there, it was foster home to foster home until I met Neal.”
She hates the way her voice cracks over his name. More than a decade later and the pain still echoes in her chest from time to time. Will she ever get over his betrayal? At times, she doubts it. Neal was the first person she trusted, the first person she let into her life, and the first person she offered everything to. Emma tells Killian as much.
“What made him different?” His voice lacks the judgment and pity that fill so many others and it hits her square in the chest. The unexpected notion takes her breath away and she shivers. Killian is quick to pull her coat over her shoulders and drape the scarf around her neck, the warmth that fills her from the action having more to do with the intention than the clothes. He moves without a second thought and continues as he rubs his hand and wrist over her arms in a desperate attempt to drive away the chill. Sincerity in his small smile encourages her to keep going.
“I was a kid and excited to have an older guy like me. He’d tell me all these things about how alike we were, acted like we understood each other and were cut from the same cloth. Lot of good that did me. He ended up setting me up for a bunch of luxury watches he stole,” she pauses, looking up at him briefly before straightening her shoulders and rushing out, “and I ended up going to prison for almost a year while he ran off to Canada.”
Her companion’s face still lacks any judgment or hesitation. Instead curiosity colors his features, a frail effort to cover the brewing anger she senses from the way he clenches his fist. She feels the fingers curl in on themselves, his tightly closed hand resting against her arm as he stops his warming motions. “When did you have Henry?”
“In prison.”
A myriad of emotions flicker across his face. Pain – the pain of being abandoned, the pain of being left alone – most prominent. He takes on her hurt like it’s his own, and she can’t handle how heartbreak looks on his features under the falling snow.
Word vomit. She’s convinced she’s suffering from a case of the worst of it because suddenly she’s telling him about her time in prison, finding out she was pregnant the same day she got confirmation Neal snuck across the border. How she gave birth shackled to a bed and had to give Henry up because she couldn’t care for him behind the iron bars of her cell. Of David and Mary Margaret Nolan being a godsend when they took Henry in as a foster, giving him the best first years of his life that Emma could have ever asked for. The way they let her see him as often as she wanted while she got herself back on her feet.
She tells him of how they became the only family she’s ever truly known, how they helped her build a home for herself and her son, how they understood the complexities of her job and offered to babysit Henry when she had to work late.
She tells him of the loneliness that settled in her chest when Mary Margaret was offered a job at a school in Boston not long after Emma gained full custody of Henry again and how Emma couldn’t bear to part from them.
“I owe them everything,” Emma says. “They’re my family. That’s why we moved here.”
“And your ex,” Killian asks next. “How did he come back into your life?”
Huffing only blows a small cloud of white smoke out of her mouth. It billows towards Killian’s face and makes her realize just how close they’ve been standing. She takes a step back as she clenches and unclenches her fists, his own arms dropping to his side. Wills cheers something loud from inside the car, Candy Crush still visible on his screen as his hand reaches up to pump his fist.
Clearing her throat, Emma attempts a wry smile. It only lasts a moment before the corners of her mouth tilt down in a frown. “I was trying to catch a bail jumper a few weeks after we moved here. Tackled the wrong guy. I ended up running into him with Henry a couple days after that and Neal put two and two together. It’s made my life hell since then.”
Fury rolls over her as she remembers their first interactions after over a decade apart, how he claimed she deprived him of raising his son as if he weren’t the one who completely abandoned her and destroyed her life.
“I have been trying to finally give Henry a stable life with an actual home and being around family, and Neal’s been fucking it up every which way. He comes by without warning to take Henry to baseball games, concerts, the park – and how do I deny my kid time with his dad? Then he tries to pit Henry against me as if he’s fucking Father of the Year and not some deadbeat that set me up for his crimes without an ounce of regret, never looking back.”
“This Christmas was supposed to be the first one where I could really spoil Henry, you know? I had a plan for it all and I told Neal what I got him so he could get the rest of the stuff on his list. And what does Neal do? Buys those things again. So here I am,” she continues, and throws her hands up at the closed storefront behind her, “getting the doors closed in my face on Christmas Eve and without any other gifts for my son on his wish list.”
Killian remains silent.
“I want him to have a better Christmas than I did. I don’t ever want him to wake up on Christmas morning and hope that someone cared about him enough to leave a gift under the tree only to see nothing there. I don’t want him to feel insecure about his place in my life or think I don’t care about him or consider him worth my time. I’ve been there. Some foster families tried to include me; they got me little knickknacks, sometimes ones I already had, but never anything personal. Others just didn’t bother.” She sucks in a ragged breath. “Honestly what’s less thoughtful? What’s a worse way to let someone know you don’t care about them – no gifts or the same ones you just got? How many more chances am I going to get with him to fix my mistakes? I feel like I’ve already run out.”
He sees the fear of vulnerability in her eyes as her walls begin to crumble and reconstruct themselves in the same breath and lets his own down in exchange. Biting his lip as his gaze becomes hooked on the snowy sidewalk, he takes a moment. Once he’s gathered his confidence again, he steps towards Emma but keeps his eyes averted, instead fixating on Will.
“My father moved my family here when I was still young – not much older than your lad’s age. Shortly after that, the only presence he had in my life was a title. When he abandoned us, he lost even that. Mum struggled to make ends meet after he left, and our Christmases became small affairs. My brother Liam and I would receive the necessities and a small trinket or two.” When he finally looks at her, she smiles sadly, but he shakes his head.
“When I look back, I don’t even think of his absence. You know what I remember the most about those Christmases?” he asks her.
“What?”
“Music.”
“Huh?” Emma inquires, tilting her head to the side. “‘Frosty the Snowman’, ‘White Christmas’? That sort of thing?”
Killian shots her a small, amused smile. “Yes, but not in the way everyone else remembers it.”
Will yells something unintelligible in the car, but her attention remains on the man before her. Snowflakes land gently on his facial hair and his blue eyes seem impossibly bright in the cold winter night. Perhaps it’s the watery sheen making them twinkle, but she feels like she’s staring at the ocean preparing to jump in.
“You see, we had this rickety old piano left in our apartment from the previous tenants. It sat and gathered dust most of the year, but around Christmas, Mum cleaned it off. Mind you, she only knew a song or two. Still, every Christmas Eve she’d gather Liam and I around the piano before bed and play us one of the songs she knew, make us sing along with her and everything. She made a big deal out of the whole thing even though neither of them could carry a tune.” The chuckle he lets out is watery and his gaze holds a pensive sadness she’d never seen on him before. “Then she’d send us off to sleep and play a song by herself as we began to drift off. The radio would go on next and she’d play it all night long through to the morning.”
“I always thought it was a way to ring in Christmas and get us excited for the morning. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized she did it so we wouldn’t hear her wrapping the gifts.”
The thought makes her giggle. She thinks of a boy with black hair all a mess and blue eyes filled with wonder falling asleep to the notes of a classic Christmas carol. She thinks of a woman staying up all hours of the night with one ear out for the softest of sounds that might reveal that her ruse has been foiled. She relates to the woman she’s imagined in her mind, to Killian’s mother, and feels her heart flip in her chest. A mother who would do anything to give her kids the best holiday.
Killian’s fingers fiddling with his rings bring her attention to his hand, and she realizes that he shoved his gloves into the pocket of her coat. His exposed prosthetic hadn’t even been a thought in her mind until now.
“When she got sick and her fingers couldn’t move as well, I played for her. I expanded our repertoire too, and I will never forget the smile on her face when she realized what I’d done.”
Tears sting her eyes, a longing pinging in her heart.
“The first Christmas after she’d passed was the quietest. Liam had to sell the piano to make rent and neither of us were in the mood to celebrate. It wasn’t until the following year that I’d be in the department store and heard one of her songs that it made me smile. It made me think of her and it brought me joy.”
Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “What was the song?”
“‘Little St. Nick’ by the Beach Boys.”
Emma huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes as Killian grins wide at her. She opens her mouth to speak when his smile begins to fade. She waits.
“Every year without fail she’d sit us at the piano and make us sing along before sending us up to bed. She kept up her tradition with the radio even when Liam and I both knew why she was doing it. Now every Christmas Eve, I play the radio through the night. It reminds me of her. It makes me happy, like it’s a little piece of magic she keeps giving me.”
His hand reaches out to take one of hers, pulling it from the pocket of her coat. Despite the icy feeling of his fingers, his skin sends sparks down her spine. The small step he takes in her direction makes her breath hitch, and the pure sincerity in his gaze leaves her heart hammering against her chest.
“Emma, gifts can be great, but what is going to stick with Henry is what you do to make the day special. That’s what will stay with him as the years pass – not what you got him which year. Because even when you have nothing, the memories are everything.”
She gets it. There’s a hole in her heart, carved out at a young age for the families that would house her but never truly accept her. Always the outsider looking in. What she would give to have memories to hold onto like Killian does. Not to be the other, the asterisk at the end of every family name.
The Swans*.
*And the foster kid Emma.
Emma tilts her head back towards the sky and takes a deep breath. Snowflakes land on her cheeks and set an icy burn to her skin. “I don’t know if I’ll be enough.”
One side of Killian’s mouth tilts up, his face coming all that much closer to hers as if he’s about to tell her his deepest secret, and she can’t help but drop her head to face him without barriers. No walls, no diverted gazes. “You just spent your Christmas Eve traversing Boston in the mightiest of crowds, all in an effort to give your son the best Christmas you could ever wish for him.” Then he does that thing – that one where he raises his eyebrows to drive his point home – and her stomach swoops at his words and the total confidence he has in her. “I’ve yet to see you fail.”
@imagnifika I am your Secret Santa in the @cssecretsanta2021 event @cssecretsanta2020
I realize that I am getting this in just under the wire on the 26th, but I still hope that you will enjoy your gift (or at least cover art and the opening - as a temporary sneak peek/preview) The fic in its entirety should be coming in the next day or two, but there have been some unforeseen family things these last few days that have made being in the writing headspace - or having time to do it - difficult. I didn’t want to rush it and give you a gift that felt unfinished or just not as good as I had hoped to give you. Please enjoy this teaser of the beginning though, and be looking for the rest as soon as possible.
I’ve enjoyed being your Santa and getting to know you a bit. Hope this season will be a wonderful one for you and yours, and that you’ll have a happy new year too!
~ @snowbellewells
And now, one with the fic.... ;)
“Elf Service” (for @imagnifika )
‘What was I thinking?’ Emma Swan blew out a frustrated breath while berating herself heartily. Strands of her blonde hair were lifted from her overheated forehead as she shook her head and stared at the long line before her, even in the self-checkout. She should never have waited so late on the 23rd of December to try to get the last minute ingredients she needed for their holiday dinner and Henry’s last few gifts as well. It seemed half of Boston had done the same - and now they were all paying for it.
She was exhausted, irritable, and more than a bit impatient; it took almost all the fortitude she could muster to stay planted in line with her cart, barely inching forward, rather than ditching it and getting out of there, no matter how much she’d wanted to try that new stuffing recipe and see the sparkle she had envisioned in Henry’s eyes after being able to add another couple items from his list to her haul after the surprise bonus she’d been awarded. Tracking down deadbeats wasn’t easy or glamorous, but she was good at it, and if pressed, Emma would admit to a flush of pride at the recognition for her efforts.
Using what she felt was admirable restraint, Emma kept herself from tapping her toes as people seemed to creep along ahead of her, going slower than should be humanly possible as they rang up items, asked for help, began again, rifled in their bags for their credit cards, and finally took their receipts and purchases and moved on.
‘At least I’m not stuck in some ridiculous costume,’ she thought with a disbelieving huff of derision as she glanced around her at the associates running the checkout lines, re-stocking the cart carrell, and assisting those who needed it at the self-check stations she was waiting on. The poor folks were not only overworked and underpaid in holiday retail dealing with crowds of harried customers such as herself, but they had also clearly been ordered to dress as merry little elves in Santa’s workshop. Shaking her head at the indignity heaped on these poor people, she took a moment to let the pointed hats, pom-pom adorned, upturned toed shoes, red and white striped leggings and green, fuzzy, white-trimmed getups sink in. Muttering to herself about stores not paying grown-ups enough to force them to dress like cartoon characters, she gratefully moved forward enough to finally be next in line for an open station and that much closer to fresh air and freedom.
Then, finally, she was running her purchases over the scanner, intensely focused on seeing each item register correctly and get tucked into the waiting bay just right. The last thing she needed at the moment was to cause the machine to misread or freeze up. She’d learned the hard way that these supposed “convenient” devices could be temperamental, and they had delayed her escape from the store on more than one occasion.
She was just a handful of purchases from finishing when the hanger from the new shirt she’d bought Henry got hooked on the one holding the little sweat suit that she’d also been unable to resist getting him. The clothing scanned but then, caught up together, missed the waiting bag and careened to the floor, causing the weight of the item not to register to the machine, and it began blaring robotically about an “unseen item in the baggage area” to her frustration and embarrassment.
Just what she’d been trying to avoid, her mind grumbled as she bent to retrieve the clothes and disentangle them. She couldn’t help the irritated growl she let out when the register refused to let her continue checking out without an associate voiding the mistake. Barely managing not to throw up her hands in defeat, Emma bit her tongue to avoid yelling at whatever hapless “elf” did come to her aid and attempted to wait with what little modicum of patience she still possessed.
“Can I be of assistance, Lass?” a low, silky voice rumbled, much closer to her ear that she’d been expecting, causing a frisson of electricity to shiver through her, even as she jumped in surprise.
Spinning around, Emma narrowly missed colliding with a dark-haired, lean muscled associate, standing close enough to nearly have her frazzled ponytail smack him in the face. She was about to sarcastically ask what it looked like she needed, or to tell him to back up and out of her space, when his twinkling blue eyes and handsome features made the words die away on her tongue.
Emma caught her breath, wanting to answer smartly and recover a bit of her dignity, but when she looked up into a playfully smouldering expression, strong, scruffy jawline, and appropriately rather elfishly tipped ears, speech was slow to return. She just kept drinking in the profile tilted questioningly toward her and coming up stunned and mutely smitten, not that she was about to admit that to anyone - even herself.
Backing up rapidly, Emma tried to blink the stars from her eyes and put some distance between them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make a hasty getaway because her purchases were only half bagged and the register still as uncooperative as it had been. Half-tempted to at least grab her filled bags and make a run for it, instead she finally huffed out a resigned sigh and gave her would-be rescuer a curt nod of assent. She might never get out of the store otherwise.
The costumed employee - who was minute-by-minute making an elf seem like a ridiculously attractive holiday character - smirked then, the look a mischievous one, complete with arched brow, that made her want to smack him upside the head for mocking her, even as she was equally enticed to jerk him to her by the front of his bright green outfit and smush his lips back into a less maddening shape with her own. Irritatingly, at her agreement, her “elf” helper had the snag with her register righted in no time with annoying ease. “Anything elese I can assist you with, Love?” he questioned. Rather cheekily, it felt to Emma.
Blushing furiously, she swiped her card, snatched her receipt, and tried to gather all her bags in one quick grab without making any further eye contact. Her blurted, “Nope, all set now,” was a rush of words, followed by a snarked, “and I’m not your love” that she realized too late hadn’t been as under the breath as intended.
Her gaze shot guiltily to his face once more, and she was moderately comforted by the slight red suffusing his neck and cheeks now as well. Her handsome assistant scratched at a spot behind his ear uneasily. “Apologies, Lo - Ma’am,” he amended sincerely enough. Then, just a bit of that rogueish smile quirked one corner of his generous, intriguing mouth upwards again. “But you can’t blame an elf for trying, can you?”
Snorting inelegantly, Emma couldn’t help the short burst of laughter that escaped her unbidden. “I don’t know about that,” she deadpanned back, not sure what had come over her in that moment, “Seems to me like Santa might not approve.”
The guy’s blue eyes widened in surprise, but also lit with pleasure at her playing along.
Yet, fun as it was for a moment, Emma’s instinct to pull back - self-preservation, she reminded herself - had her turning with a quick, “Thanks all the same,” and darting away, hurriedly tossing a “Merry Christmas” back over her shoulder before practically dashing for the store’s front exit.
She couldn’t get far enough away from wildly attractive and flirtatious strangers, even ones harmlessly dressed as holiday characters. She’d learned that lesson all too well a long time ago. And yet, as the bracing chill of the air hit her in the parking lot, Emma knew that she might have gotten away from temptation just in time, but she wasn’t going to easily forget that playfully engaging face or those rather adorably pointed ears that suited his costume all too well. Nope, those blue eyes would be dancing through her dreams tonight rather than any visions of sugarplums, and there wasn’t much she could do about that.
* I promise you should have the rest of this soon, and again I hope you will enjoy this first bit for now, and continue to have a wonderful holiday season!! *
@eastwesthomeisbest I am your Secret Santa in the @csss2021 event! This is ‘gift 1/2′ for you, as the story to go along with the art is still in the process of being written, but will be finished in the next couple of days! I really hope you enjoy it and that it ticks all the boxes of your favorite things!
Story Summary: Twenty-eight years after Princess Emma of Misthaven is kidnapped by the Evil Queen, Pirate Captain Killian Jones attempts to rescue her in order to earn the substantial reward offered by her royal parents. A CS Fairytale Mash-up AU featuring Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty & Tangled, with a sprinkling of The Princess Bride thrown in for good measure.
Merry Christmas to @colinoeyebrows and everyone at @cssecretsanta2020 ! I know you said you like a bit of fluffy romance and are particularly fond of Enchanted Forest stories, so I hope you like this, its just a cute little Christmas story, atheistically inspired by 5x08 an episode that you said you love :)
Title: A Rare Moment Of Peace
Rated: General Audiences
Summary: Emma’s first Christmas in the Enchanted Forest with her family
