#wish hook ff

[piracytheorist]

Fanfic Self Promo: KnightRook

I decided to make a few self-promo posts on my older fics, starting with the ones centered on KnightRook! All are short one shots or drabbles, but they’re worth a little promo after all this time. They’re in a list of older ones first.

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Missing Knight | T, 2.4k words, written 16 Oct 2017 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Speculative fic about Detective Rogers meeting the girl who, unbeknownst to him, is his own daughter.

I wrote this a little after 7x02 aired, before we knew anything more about Killian’s daughter. I was completely off with it, but I’m still quite happy with it.

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A Young Tempest | G, 1.3k words, written 20 Oct 2017 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Killian Jones raises his daughter and learns things along with her. 

Another speculative fic about Killian’s history with his daughter. Once again, completely off, but it’s one of my favourite stuff I’ve written.

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A Song for Goodnight | G, 1.8k words, written 28 Nov 2017 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Alice Jones I sings a lullaby to her son. A long time later, Killian Jones sings the same lullaby to his daughter. Warnings: Canon character death in the past.

I have feels about Killian singing his mother’s lullaby to his daughter. Some of these made it into this fic.

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Untitled ficlet of Killian thinking about the white elephant he gave Ella | Tumblr link

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A Family by Choice | G, 3.3k words, written 04 Feb 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: The curse is broken, everyone’s memories are back, and Roni with Weaver find a way to remove the poison from Rogers’ heart. But it’s not easy nor perfectly safe, and it might just as well pull that family apart again rather than bring it back together. 

This one is a little sad, as usual with me. But again, lots of feels.

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The First Rain | G, 590 words, written 25 Mar 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Alice is finally free and gets to explore how being under the rain feels.

This one includes only Alice, but it’s got a lot of focus on KnightRook. (If you thought you’d find happy stuff on my fic, you thought wrong. KnightRook was brimming with angst and I milked the hecc out of it)

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Mother’s Day | G, 650 words, written 14 May 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Modern AU. Alice makes something for her papa for Mother's Day.

I felt that Killian deserved a little more love and appreciation for raising such a kind human as Alice all on his own. Father’s day doesn’t get as much appreciation as Mother’s day, especially considering it’s usually after school starts summer break. So I felt that in a modern setting, Alice would choose to celebrate her father and their love for each other on Mother's Day at some point.

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Poor Old Man | G, 530 words, written 12 Mar 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: While in the tower, Killian realizes he's growing old. But not alone. 

There’s a sea shanty with the same name, but only the title has a reference to the story. I just thought that it would be interesting to see Killian, who’d spent his centuries in Neverland not expecting to survive his revenge mission, realize that he’s not only actually growing old, but that he’s also got someone to love and love him back as he does.

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Sad drabble of “What if Killian hadn’t managed to save Alice from being pulled into her worst nightmare in the finale?” Like, really sad. | Tumblr link

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Sad Old Hook drabble in direct response to the fic above, because he did end up old and alone. Be sad with me, people. | Tumblr link

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Marks | T, 1k words, written 15 June 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Little Alice wonders why she doesn’t have any marks on her back, like her papa does. Warnings: Mentions of past physical abuse of a teenager

If you know me, you know I headcanon Killian having multiple scars on his body, many particularly from the time he was a indentured servant as a kid/teen. Being the only one who Alice sees in her first years, she thinks that she’ll grow to have such marks on her body. This is a bit of a melancholic take on Killian trying to explain it to her.

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Untitled ficlet about Old Hook “fusing” with OG Hook, becoming one with him. | Tumblr link

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A New Experience | G, 1.3 words, written 19 July 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Killian makes a re-imagining of a storm in the tower for Alice. 

Humans have more senses than vision. In this story, Killian does his best to create an experience for Alice by invoking her other senses. (Also nerding out for my music knowledge by adding an ocean drum)

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Sad drabble about how Killian seeing his daughter pull away out of fear of hurting him sometimes hurts worse than the curse in his heart. | Tumblr link

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Under the Weather | G, 2.2 words, written 12 Nov 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Young Alice gets very ill and Killian tries to help her. 

Don’t let my habit for angst worry you, this has a happy ending. The medicine techniques are probably inaccurate, but I wanted to focus on a scenario of Killian trying to heal Alice with the very very limited sources he has.

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Remembering Alice | G, 424 words, written 04 Dec 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: After Lucy's birth, Killian can't help feeling sad as he remembers how his daughter is forced to live away from him. 

It is what it is. A short angsty thing. Only Killian appears here, but the focus is on KnightRook.

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A Merry Little Christmas | G, 1.6 words, written 24 Dec 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: This year, Rogers and Tilly won’t spend Christmas Day on their own. 

I don’t participate on Secret Santa and similar events, cause they stress me out over producing a specific kind of content at a specific time. However, all the love people gave to that year's KnightRook Secret Santa inspired me to write a kinda independent contribution, which came out as this. It may not be Christmas yet but the warm, fuzzy feelings are the same!

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Untitled ficlet about re-awakened Killian thinking how his true self conflicted with Rogers’ memories and original goals. | Tumblr link

I barely remember writing this one, lol. I think, it may have started as a meta post, then it took a fanfic route on its own. Fics be doing that. I’ll probably post it on AO3 at some point, too.

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Outward-Bound | T, 2.5 words, written 20 Mar 2019 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Old, dishevelled, broken-hearted Hook is drowning his sorrows in alcohol, when he happens upon a familiar face, someone he never imagined he’d see again. Warnings: Depiction of alcoholism

Oh, this be sad! Again, only Killian appears, but the KnightRook feels are prominent.

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Sad (shocking, I know) drabble about Killian being taken away in the ambulance in 7x20 | Tumblr link

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The Dreams That Won’t Come True | G, 2.1k words, written 14 Sep 2019 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: Killian and Alice find a way to be together through their dreams... but it doesn't end up being what they expected. 

That made me sad. Almost made me cry when I first wrote it, and I’m very hard to cry.

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Bonus Fics!

Untitled ficlet with Robyn and Killian; three moments between them | Tumblr link

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Accepting Happiness | G, 1k words, written 26 Nov 2018 | AO3 link | Tumblr link Summary: A little after reuniting with Alice, Killian takes a moment to try and let everything sink in. Hooked Queen, open to your interpretation.

Some introspective thoughts on how Killian and Regina would feel, right after the climactic ending of the finale, the one set before the final scene. Only Killian and Regina appear, but KnightRook is in focus.

[piracytheorist]

Outward-Bound (1/1)

Summary: Old, dishevelled, broken-hearted Hook is drowning his sorrows in alcohol, when he happens upon a familiar face, someone he never imagined he’d see again.

Note: I’m purposefully being cryptic about this, not tagging any characters. I started this about... wow, a year ago. I’m technically two days (in my timezone) late for Old Hook day, but who cares? I have feels™ to share.

Warnings: Alcoholism and a bit of non-descriptive vomiting.

Word count: ~2.5k AO3

outward-bound adjective (of a ship or passenger) going away from home.

He hums a melody through his nose as he sloshes the remains of his ale in the stein. He doesn’t remember where he heard that song, or what it’s about. He just hums it to the end before he finishes his drink, to his dismay.

He really would do better with a bit of water, but he couldn’t care less about that now.

“Hey, lad!” he shouts at the waiter. “More ale!”

Hook can see the man approach slowly with empty hands. “I think you’ve had enough."

“I don’t,” he starts, raising a finger, “... care... what you think.” He pats his finger on the table. "I'm paying here and demand more... ale." His voice drops, and he looks up at the man.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," the man says, resting his hands on the table. "We have food, we have water, but booze's out for you-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Hook grabs a dagger from an inner pocket and drives it into the table, between two of the man's fingers. The man yells in surprise and pulls away, looking at his hand in shock.

Hook pulls the dagger off the table and stands up, holding it high towards the waiter. "It would be best for you to listen to me, lad," he says slowly, his eyes not focusing right. He pushes his grey locks away from his face with his hook.

"What's going on here?"

Hook turns slowly to the source of the voice. An old man roughly his age appears behind the waiter holding a bat. Hook snorts. "Swing that thing around, 'tis no match for me hook," he slurs as he raises said appendage and smiles.

"You've had enough, mate. Come on." The old man approaches him with his bat lowered. "You'd better leave before things get tense."

There's something about his voice, his hair, his raised eyebrow, that tickles something in Hook, something he can't quite place. He raises an eyebrow himself and looks him up and down. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The man sighs and shrugs. "I've had this tavern for years. You probably visited at some point. Now come on." He steps closer and pats him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Let me, father," the young man offers.

"It's alright Liam, I can handle him."

Liam?

Hook freezes. He looks at the young man, then at the older man next to him. Looking at him better, he realizes. Sure, he grew old and grey - just like him - and his eyes may look a little glazed now too, but he'd never forget that face.

Brennan Jones.

His father.

Hook stares at him with his mouth open. The old man - Brennan - turns back to him and pats him on the shoulder again, signaling him to leave.

"You bastard," Hook whispers. He raises his dagger and goes to stab him, but the young man grabs his wrist before he can do any damage. Regardless, Hook keeps pushing, adamant to drive the dagger through his heart.

"Stop!" he hears someone say, but ignores him.

"You bastard!" Hook says again. "How dare you!" He manages to break free of the man's hold of his arm, only to feel two big, strong hands grab him from behind and push him against the table. Hook groans as he struggles to get free, to no avail, losing his grip on the dagger. "Let me go!" he says.

"Thank you, Tom," Brennan says and turns to look at him. Hook grunts again, still trying to break free, but his aged body and his drunken state are only making things more difficult. "Let's get him out of here."

"Ah, so that's how it is. First you abandon me on the high seas, now you'll abandon me on the side of the road."

Brennan freezes, and the young man - bloody hell, his name's Liam - turns to look at him.

"Come on, father, he's out of his mind," Liam says.

Brennan leans towards the table and brushes Hook's hair from his face. Hook sees his eyes travel up and down his face, before he mutters, "Killian?"

"Glad to see you remember my name."

Brennan blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Killian? Ho-how? Wh-how...?"

"Father, what's going on?" Liam says.

"Oh, he doesn't know," Hook says, turning to look at him, then back at Brennan. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Who are you? How do you know my father?"

He turns back to the young man - his younger brother. "Believe it or not, he's my father too." He laughs, not bothering to see the reaction on the young man's face. "What a family reunion, innit?" The man behind him lets go, and Hook straightens his back. He looks around the tavern - everyone's looking at them. "Indeed! Brennan Jones' former son is back, and guess what, he's ol' Captain Hook now!"

"Son..." Brennan says.

"Don't you bloody call me that," Hook says, turning around and extending his hand, having forgotten he doesn't have that dagger anymore.

"Let's take it somewhere else."

"No, we-" His words are cut off by his stomach heaving suddenly. He leans forward and retches on the floor, supporting himself on the table. He hears disgusted sounds from the patrons, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Tom, can you give me a hand?" Brennan says, and then Hook feels the same strong arms slip under his armpits and carry him somewhere, away from the murmurs in the tavern. He's set down, he supposes on the floor, and then a door closes and someone kneels down next to him.

"Killian..."

He opens his eyes. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear anything from you."

"Take this," Liam says and offers him a mug.

Smiling, Hook brings it to his lips and starts downing its contents, until he realizes it's just plain water. "Ugh," he mutters.

"You're fooling yourself if you think I'm letting you get any drunker than that."

"Would you look at that?" Hook says, looking up at his brother. "So considerate! You raised him well." He turns towards Brennan. "Unlike others you sold into servitude."

"What?"

"Liam, give us a moment."

"Father, what-"

"Liam, please! I'll explain everything later."

Hook looks up at Liam's distraught face. He both hates him for getting everything he didn't and he wants to protect him from whatever betrayal this monster may have up his sleeve for yet another son of his. Liam just shakes his head and leaves.

Brennan turns his attention back to him, eyes once again going all over him. "Killian... what happened to you?"

Hook snorts. "It's easier to say what didn't happen to me."

"How did you survive this long?"

"Neverland. I was biding my time until I could find a way to kill an immortal. Where did you run off to after trading us for a bloody rowboat?"

"You were here, all along. And your brother?"

Hook narrows his eyes at him, noting that he hasn't answered. "Liam," he says, as if reminding him of his first son's name, "... was not so fortunate. How are you still alive?"

Brennan sighs. "I was caught. As soon as I reached port, I was arrested, and put under a sleeping curse."

It takes Hook a few moments to process what he said. He was caught... arrested... "You were caught?"

"Aye, not long after I left."

"You traded us," Hook says, pointing at his chest, "for a bloody rowboat, to escape, and you tell me now that it didn't work? That Liam and I grew up in servitude for nothing?"

Brennan closes his eyes and lowers his head. "It was wrong, and cowardly of me. I know that-"

"The hell it was!" Hook yells at the top of his lungs, and he can hear the noises from behind the door lower. "How could you face yourself?! How could you raise another child after what you did?!"

"I fell in love. The woman, who... who woke me up from my curse, we got married, and we had Liam."

"Liam," Hook says, scoffing. "Named after the son you abandoned. Was he that easy to replace?"

"I wasn't trying to replace him. I was trying to honour him. Him and you both. To remind myself to never make that mistake again." Brennan reaches with his hand and rests it on Hook's. Hook snatches it away in disgust. "I saw the error of my ways. I knew that I couldn't really go back and fix what I did. So when Liam came into my life... I found a way to redeem myself."

Hook looks up at him. He'd be lying if he said that didn't resonate with him... how could he berate him, after what he'd done to Baelfire? After how he'd found a reason to live in Alice?

"I'm truly sorry, Killian."

Hook squeezes his eyes shut, the pain almost physical. How long? How many times had he wished his father would come back and apologize? How many cold, lonely nights had he held on to that stupid, childish wish?

It's now he realizes how little it matters. How a few words can't and won't heal the centuries-old wounds. The dam breaks and his head drops, tears falling from his eyes as his chest starts shaking from the sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Brennan says and comes closer, wrapping his arms around Hook's shoulders. And damn him, Hook can't stop him. He hates him, he hates him so much, but he's also missed... this. Allowing someone to care for him. And that hole in his chest keeps asking for more, so Hook leans his head on that bastard's shoulder and cries his heart out. He hates how he remembers his scent. He hates how Brennan pulls him close and rubs softly at his back. He hates how he doesn't want to pull away.

~

He must've passed out next to him, he thinks. He wakes up on a big bench in the empty tavern, a blanket covering him and a soft pillow under his head. He grunts, feeling as if his head is being stabbed from all places. He opens his eyes to see Brennan walk towards him, a bowl in his hands.

"Thought I could bring you something to eat. We only had stew with lettuce but I left only the meat. I remember you didn't like lettuce in your food."

His proud smile breaks Hook's heart. "That was Liam. I loved lettuce in my stew."

"Oh, sorry. I must have gotten confused," he sits down on the opposite bench, setting the bowl on the table.

Hook sits up, his head spinning. "Well, what can you do? Now that you had another son, things can get confusing," he says, irony dripping with every word.

Brennan at least has the decency to show shame. "Killian... I meant what I said earlier. I'm truly sorry, if I could go back-"

Hook picks up the spoon, and cuts him off. "Good for you. Are you feeling better now? Do you feel you've repented?"

Bloody hypocrite, he tells himself. It's not like you'd do anything if Baelfire was still alive.

"No," Brennan says, surprising him. "I'll never be able to make it up to you. But with Liam..." His lips twitch. "I was given a second chance, and I didn't intend to throw it away."

Well, doesn't that sound familiar. "Where is his mother?"

Brennan looks down. "It's been... years. Liam barely remembers her anymore... She got sick." He shakes his head. "She never recovered."

Oh, bloody hell. How similar did their stories have to be?

I want to be just like you.

Hook stops eating and rests his forehead on his hand, once again feeling like vomiting and crying.

"Are you alright?"

"No," he says sullenly. "How can I ever be alright?"

"Stay, Killian. Stay here."

His suggestion catches him by surprise and he looks up at him. "And do what? Call for you to light the lamp at night?" Hook shakes his head. "It's not... you can't just go back. The damage is done."

"You're alone, aren't you?"

He almost says no. He wants to throw to this bastard's face that despite what he did to him, Hook still knew better... didn't he?

"What's it to you?"

"Gods, Killian, you're my son. I made a huge mistake, but I want to make up for it. I want you to not be alone anymore."

"How would you know to help me? You have no idea what I went through."

"I can try and-"

"Help yourself." He pushes the bowl away from him, splattering broth and small pieces of meat on the table and sits up abruptly, ignoring how his head is spinning.

"Killian..."

He stops, however, and turns towards him. "Stop. Just accept it, old man. You can't fix what you broke." There's a part of him that hates himself for what he's saying. A part that knows that Hook deserves to hear those words too, even if he hates them. "You have your chance for redemption." He swallows hard, feeling tears prickle his eyes. "Don't screw this one up."

Brennan looks at him, and he's sure he sees tears in his eyes too.

Well, serves him right. Hook's too far gone for anyone's help now. And... Liam... is all grown-up, and blissfully ignorant of his father's sins, but at least... Well, he does have his father, doesn't he? Why would he need his half-brother, whom he barely knows, worry for him?

Brennan doesn't even react when he sees him grab a bottle of booze from a nearby table. Hook doesn't know what exactly is inside, and he doesn't care. With one last look at his father, clean and put together, close to his child, a stark contrast to him, he turns away and leaves.

He's already downed a few good gulps before he's even turned at the corner. Oh, sweet burn. Really, how could a man who sells this stuff for a living help him?!

Some more gulps, and his vision has blurred, and he's not sure whether the bottle is now half-empty or half-full, but perhaps if he looks at the bottle that way, wait wasn't there another tavern-

"Attention, villagers!"  

Half-empty, half-full, weigh, hey, roll and go...

"Princess Emma has been kidnapped! King Henry asks for your help!"

Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn...

"Any information about her whereabouts will be greatly rewarded!"

Rewarded? Wait, what?

Still humming the song under his breath, Hook leans towards the mounted men. They're too far away, but princess... What's-her-name... kidnapped... reward...

A reward. For the bloody princess.

Maybe the royal family has a means to finding a cure for a poisoned heart? He doesn’t have the mental strength to appreciate the irony of begging a King for a cure.

Well, he's good at hiding valuable objects. A kidnapper would think the same way, wouldn't they? He knows where to look.

He stands up, nearly vomits again from how his head spins, then rights himself and marches on.

The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

[piracytheorist]

Conversations With Oneself

A missing scene from 7x02, a while after Emma heals Wish Hook, with one slight deviation from canon.

Warning: Slight mentions of miscarriage

AO3 | FFnet

Killian offered his hand to Emma to help her walk over a fallen log. The... other version of himself looked at him with curiosity.

"There's no need to treat me like I'm made of glass," she teased with a smile.

"Aye, love, I know." He smiled back, though tentatively.

"Overprotective, isn't he?" the other Hook said.

"Not as much as you'd think," she said but poked at his arm softly, winking at him. "Sometimes I just take advantage of his willingness to go bring me what I'm craving at two in the morning."

The other Hook chuckled. Killian noticed that his hand was fidgeting, much like his own did when he was nervous. Suddenly he remembered the rook in his pocket. He let go of Emma's hand briefly to retrieve it.

"I think you should have this back." He offered it to his other self. It was still dark but he didn't miss the glimmer in his eyes and his soft smile.

"Thank you," he said, tucking it back into his coat pocket.

"So this... daughter, when did she came to be?" Killian asked.

He looked at him confused for a moment, before he realized what he really wanted to know. "After our stories diverged, if that's what you're worried about." He chuckled briefly but the smile died on his lips, as he looked at Emma with worry.

Emma rubbed circles on his hand with her thumb. "Don't worry," she said. "I know very well the man I married."

His alternate self relaxed visibly, but his hand was still fidgeting.

"What's her name?" Killian asked.

The other man stayed silent for a moment, looking at the two of them before finally turning to him. "Alice."

Alice. His mother- their mother.

Killian smiled and nodded, and saw from the corner of his eye that Emma was smiling softly too.

"Were you thinking of that name?"

"Well, it's a little early," Emma said, shrugging. "We don't even know what we're expecting. But we have discussed the possibilities."

"It was your choice, I gather," Killian said.

He nodded.

They continued on their trek, pausing after a while at Killian's wish to let Emma take a breath.

She looked at him with an annoyed expression, but once she saw his furrowed brow she relaxed and sat down on a big rock. Killian knelt down next to her and rubbed at her knee.

"You shouldn't have done all that trek before," the other Hook said.

"It's okay," she said, waving her hand at him. "It was worth it."

"I'm sorry I dragged you all into this. And I'm sorry I... tried to interfere in the first place."

Emma squeezed a little at Killian's hand. "Well, you didn't go through with it. You wouldn't be the first one to try to go to such lengths and regret it just in time." She didn't look at him, but Killian knew he was talking about him. It had been years and they’d been through endless discussions about it, but he still felt shame about his actions as a once Dark One. She squeezed his hand again and looked at him with a soft smile, sensing his discomfort. She looked back at the other man. "And perhaps I'm a little to blame too."

"You? How?"

"When I met you in the Wish Realm." She bit her lip. "I completely dismissed you, I didn't think anything serious could be going on. Perhaps I could have helped you back then."

Killian looked at him, then at Emma. Perhaps he deserved help finding his daughter... but every time she talked about helping other people at the expense of her own happiness, he always felt a twist in his gut and a barely contained anger.

"You couldn't have known. And I don't blame you," the other Hook said, shrugging.

Emma nodded, her soft smile still on.

~

When they reached Henry's camp Killian immediately suggested Emma take a rest. She didn't complain at all, after all he could see the way her shoulders hunched forward.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep. He suddenly felt inclined to sing his mother's lullaby as he watched her eyelids droop closed and her breath get slow and even.

Henry was just lying down on a makeshift cot on the ground right then, so he decided he could exit the hut, breathe some fresh air and sort out his feelings.

His plans to go for a walk in the forest changed when he saw his other self sit by the fire, the small chess piece held at his hand. He was slowly and carefully running his fingers around it.

He remembered how he had once done the same with Liam's insignia. And Milah’s portrait.

"May I?" he said as he approached the man and pointed at the logs around the fire.

The other Hook only nodded and put the rook back inside the pocket.

"You seem to be very concerned with your wife's needs."

"Weren't you with Alice's mother?"

His expression turned serious. "Let's say that... she didn't give me much of a chance to... experience her pregnancy."

"But you chose the baby's name?"

He only nodded, a tight smile on his lips.

"Did you raise her without her mother?"

The smile faded away. "Yes. I wish she had the chance of having a right mother. But I couldn't be prouder of what she- Alice, has become." He smiled again and this time it looked more genuine.

Killian nodded and looked at the fire. "This is not our first effort to have a child," he confessed in a low voice. "We had had... chances before, but..." He trailed off, hoping the other man would complete the sentence on his own.

"That's why you're so worried about her."

"Besides everything else, it was devastating... to see her reaction. We would have adopted. We still plan to, soon after our baby is born, but... she wanted to experience all this so much."

"And you too."

"Aye."

"The whole 'diapers and feedings thing'." He smiled, chuckling when he saw Killian smiling back.

"You know better, anyway. You've already gone through it, I gather."

The other man nodded, his expression softening. "Are you scared?"

Killian shrugged. "I've read a lot on it. I've still got a lot to know, but until I get to see it for myself..."

"It is tiring, sometimes. There can be times you'll think you won't make it... but then you'll hold your child in your arms, see the smile on that little face, and you'll know everything is worth it."

Killian examined his face. He had that same sad smile and glazed eyes he had when he talked about how he played chess with his daughter. The other man closed his eyes and took a few breaths before opening them again and smiling at him, broader this time.

"I wouldn't trade it for the world," he added.

Killian felt a pang at his stomach. He knew that feeling all too well. "I hope you'll find her," he said softly.

He nodded and looked back at the fire.

[piracytheorist]

If he’s being honest with himself, he’ll never regret it. Lucy is just a little girl, and Ella has lost as much as he had. Seeing them together now, and knowing that this was never really taken away by the curse warms this special place in his heart. It almost fills the void left.

Almost.

Jacinda- Ella can’t stop hugging her daughter, and she hugs back just as tight.

He’s happy for them. But he’d be lying if he said his chest doesn’t constrict at the fact that he and Alice can’t do the same.

Bloody hell, they could have been together. Again after all this time. He could have hugged her for the first time in years. 

He presses his fist on his lips and supports his arm on the nearest wall. His breath catches and he feels tears sting at his eyes.

If only he had had one indication... if he had been given the motivation to hug “Tilly” and she the reason to accept this gesture... They could touch before the curse was broken anyway.

Had he known, he would never have let her away from his arms. He would’ve let her sleep on his lap, he would brush her wild hair while he sang at her.

He wipes the tears away from his eyes before they fall, and he looks back at the happy mother-daughter duo.

They’re happy. And honestly, he would give up his chance all over again.

But there will always be that part of him, scolding him for taking away that same chance from Alice. Telling him that with what he did to her, he doesn’t truly deserve being hugged by her again.

A reunited family is what he sees, and what he hopes he can achieve - and deserve - for himself.

[piracytheorist]

A Young Tempest

@queen-mabs-revenge, this is partly your fault.

Killian Jones raises his daughter and learns things along with her.

Word count: 1341

AO3 | FFnet

The nurses tell him she’s a quiet one. She wakes only when she needs to and falls asleep right after she’s fed. Sometimes she stays awake for a little while and he forces himself to look at her.

He’s lucky to have found a couple of wet nurses around the place. A secluded little seaside village as it is, there are no orphanages and no doctors around.

It’s here that fate decided he impregnated a woman.

Not that he doubts there have been more - but it’s the first he meets. Or rather, met, as she ran away soon after giving birth.

The small baby nestles in his chest, her breaths even and slow, making her belly go up and down.

He can’t be a father. He doesn’t want to and, really, he never had the best examples to begin with. It took him long to accept that though Liam had done his absolute best to raise him, he’d left his little brother with many issues he’d tried to deal with on his own, most of them unsuccessfully.

Yet the baby is too young and needs too constant a feeding for him to take her away to a better place. And if he leaves her, literally no-one around will care enough to help her grow up. So he lets his men roam the seas for gold and loot and come back a few months later.

By then, he’s absolutely gone.

She grows to be a small tempest in his life. Once the nurses start giving her pap, she almost refuses any milk and cries when Killian leaves her side. He realizes he doesn’t want to leave her either.

He takes her to his little seaside house, still paying the almost reluctant nurses to come and feed her.

He takes her for careful dips in the water. He shows her the stars and she listens. He makes her pap with fresh bread and mashed raisins.

He sings to her, and he wants to punch himself when she starts laughing with The Good Ship Venus.

Then his men come, and the baby is old enough to stand a few days ashore until they reach a town with a good orphanage.

But he looks at her, remembers her laugh, her bright, unsettled eyes and the way she loves splashing in the warm waves.

“It hasn’t been that long, sir. You don’t need to retire.”

Aye, he does.

The most vile of his men leave, the ones willing to stop the violence stay. They become traders, and though the pay is significantly less, they stay with him and respect it’s better for the Captain’s child.

He gives up on rum. It takes a little while to completely stop, but before her first birthday he’s managed to stay clean for good.

Her fiery attitude keeps up. Any nurse gives up on her after she turns one. She likes raisins, not berries, and chamomile, not goat’s milk, mixed with honey.

She likes it when he sings to her. She smiles with Randy-Dandy-Oh and The Parting Glass and pouts with Drunken Sailor and Santy Anno. Sometimes he attempts singing the melody of The Good Ship Venus, but she only laughs with the right lyrics.

Or perhaps it’s the faces he makes. She imitates his faces, grabs his hand and hook and claps them together on the rhythm while he sings, her smile making his heart grow.

She walks on the deck, her little feet leaving tiny footprints on the wet wood next to his own. She turns to him, smiles and calls him Dada. He can’t remember when the last time was that he was truly happy before that. It surely has been centuries.

She gets ill and he almost dies from the worry. He stays by her small bed all night. She’s hot with fever and cries in her sleep, and all he can do is hold her close to his bare chest as she shivers.

She recovers and Hook realizes it’s the first time in probably his whole centuries-long life he’s been that afraid. A few days later, to her it’s like nothing happened.

She makes the shape of his hook with her hand. “Dada,” she says.

He points to his chest. “Dada,” he replies. “Killian.”

“Kiyian.”

He loves her, and with taking care of her he learns to love himself.

He’s strong enough to protect her, to stay with her, to take care of her.

To not leave her, to not die on her, to not bloody sell her.

He’s strong enough to give up on rum for her.

He learns that he, once a thieving and always a one-handed pirate, can be looked at with innocent and pure love from a child. His child. His precious, unstoppable tempest.

He teaches her about the stars, how to swim, how to sail. He shows her the world.

One day at a market, she points at a chess set. It’s elegant and expensive, probably more than they could afford and he hasn’t played in years, but her ear-piercing wails don’t stop until he buys it for her.

She tries to play a few times but gives up. She prefers swimming, and singing, and playing catch with the crew.

He unburies his obsolete copy of the Odyssey and reads to her in Greek. At first she looks at him with wide eyes, listening to a foreign language for the first time but she eventually mimics his accent.

She finds Milah’s portrait. “Mama?” she says and his heart breaks.

It’s after he teaches her to read - both English and Greek - that she picks up the chess set again. She knows blacks play second but always chooses them. He always lets her win, otherwise her wails keep up long into the night. Her triumphant smile at her “victory” is always worth it.

He makes sure Smee and Starkey let her win as well.

She tries to draw. The Roger’s sails, the horizon, the clouds.

She gets better at chess and one time he’s mortified to realize she’s beat him without him letting her. It quickly turns to pride as she gives him the satisfied smirk he knows she picked up from him a long time ago.

She likes when he’s being funny. He makes funny voices, funny faces, and she laughs so hard she pees herself.

He always gets as worried as the first time every time she gets sick. But she recovers and is ready for the next adventure.

She grows to be a foul-mouthed eight year old with callouses she willingly allowed her hands to grow.

The crew loves her too, playing with her with wooden sticks and teaching her how to defend herself.

He knows she’ll never need it, but she smiles when she dodges a parry. She says she can’t wait to play with real swords.

“Checkmate,” she says proudly and Killian throws his king to the side. “And you didn’t help me this time.”

She smiles, jumps from her seat and kisses his cheek before she runs out to let Smee take her to the crow’s nest to watch the sun set.

He rubs his itching stump and walks to the cupboard next to the door. He opens it and looks at Baelfire’s cutlass. He caught word of his heroic demise some time ago. At least he knew he had a happy family before he went to meet his mother.

His daughter’s birthday is in a few weeks. Perhaps, before he’s ready to pass Milah’s sword to her, he can give her the next best thing to finally help her turn into the fighter she was always meant to be.

He buries the cutlass deep behind the wool coats again.

A few weeks later, he instead unburies the rum and drinks for the first time in years.

He needs the burn. To help minimize the fear of failure, the pain coming in advance.

She was taken away and she needs him, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t turn the world upside down to find her and get her back.

[piracytheorist]

Missing Knight

I have feels for Wish Hook and his daughter, that’s all. Contains mentions of trauma and a veeeeeeeery slight mention of teen molestation.

Word count: 2471

AO3

Rogers slumped down on his chair. The adrenaline and excitement of the whole day were starting to take their toll on him, and he felt his limbs turn heavy as lead even if his mind was full of thoughts.

He’d found the girl. Miranda Jones. She was safe, unhurt, and from what he could tell, not terribly traumatized by her experience. Of course, only time could tell, but the fact that she was cooperating with them - mostly - was a good sign.

For the moment.

He looked at her - light brown hair and blue eyes that hadn’t stopped staring at him since he’d entered the room she had been sleeping in, announcing her that she was free.

She’d run in his arms and held him so tight his breath was caught for a moment. Then she’d pulled away, tears running down her face and had looked at him.

He had saved people in the past, but that look in the girl’s eyes he would never forget.

Or how it had changed to an expression of sorrow once he’d tried to comfort her.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now. We’re getting you out of here.”

Pushing himself to forget the devastation on her face, he looked down at the papers in front of him.

“Look, dear. We really want to help you. Please, tell us the name of your parents.”

“Why do you insist so much on that?” she quipped. “Aren’t you the one who had been searching for me all this time?”

He swallowed hard. The excitement of having found her was slowly being replaced by the feeling of failure he’d been facing for the past eight years.

He simply nodded.

“Then you know that I’m over eighteen, and that I can leave without you calling my parents or the social services.”

“You’re just over eighteen. Look, if there’s something wrong going back at home…”

“There’s not.”

Rogers sighed. “I just want to help you. It’s really not wise for you to leave on your own after all of this. Do you have any friends, or other family, that could pick you up? I can take you there with the cruiser.”

“You want to help me?” she said, her voice softer and her eyes almost wide.

“Yes.”

“Can I stay with you? Just for tonight, and then I can go.”

He hesitated. “It’s not really my-”

“Please,” she interrupted him. She leaned forward a little, still clutching onto the blanket the paramedics had provided for her. “Just for one night.”

He swallowed hard again. She clearly was in need of some company right now, but he doubted a mess like him would be the ideal one, especially for her case. “Fine. But then you’ll allow me to help.”

She nodded and a small smile appeared on her lips.

~

He took note of the fact that not once during the whole time sitting next to him did she stare at his prosthetic. He walked her to his car and she refused to let him open her door, just slipped inside.

The few seconds it took him to walk around the car and sit on the driver’s seat probably seemed too long for her. Once he sat down she burst in sobs.

“Miranda? Are you having a flashback?”

“What?” she said weakly and turned to him. “No… no.”

He wondered for a moment if she even knew what flashbacks were, or that what she might have even had a name. “Okay, listen to me. Can I touch your hand?”

As soon as he’d said it, her hand flew and grabbed his in a tight grip.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “It’s over. We can protect you, okay?”

She nodded, her sobs starting to take her over so she couldn’t speak.

“Hey, come here.” He tugged just a little at her hand, but she immediately leaned over to let him wrap his arms around her. She cried on his shoulder as he whispered soft ‘You’re safe’s to her.

It felt almost natural, hugging her. He felt such a great want to protect her and he didn’t care that she didn’t pull away from his arms even after she’d calmed down.

“I’m so sorry,” she said after the sobs had stopped.

“There’s no need to feel sorry.” None seemed to feel awkward in their hug, but he forced himself to remember that she was just an 18-year-old who probably had a lot of issues and even if he knew that nothing was going to happen between them, he also knew that rumours wouldn’t take a lot to spread.

The beat cop who was promoted to detective without being worthy of it and then molested a troubled 18-year-old…

He shivered at the thought and nudged her a little, indicating to her that they should pull away.

She had the same devastated face she had when she first saw him, even down to the tears and red eyes, for the whole ride to his place.

~

All things in his life considered, he was happy to have a place he’d decorated on his own and kept perfectly clean. It never actually felt like home, but it was his and that had to do.

“It’s a small place. I don’t have any guest rooms, so could you give me some minutes to put some new sheets on my bed?”

“Why?”

“Uh- well, you’ll sleep there and it’s only dignified I put some clean sheets for you…”

“You’ll sleep on that couch?”

It wasn’t comfortable, yes, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ve slept in some pretty bad beds the past eight years,” she added.

“Exactly,” he said and looked her in the eye. “Now, the bathroom is over here, I’ll leave some towels on the bed as well, but for now you can use it… Fridge is over there, I suggest you not touch the pasta, they’ve been in there for some days, but you can eat from anything else… Uh… I’ll bring some decent breakfast tomorrow morning, is there something special you’d like?”

She sighed softly and hugged him again. For a moment, he wished he was able to do this any time she felt upset, as if two simple arms could protect her.

Then that moment was gone, and he pulled away. He didn’t look at her face as he walked to his room to prepare her bed.

“Your decorations are really nice,” she said a few minutes later, entering the room.

“Thank you.”

“A lot of nautical stuff. Are you a sailor?”

“Me?” He snorted. “No. I only learned how to swim for the academy. I just… I don’t know, I like the style.”

“I know I’ve been a pain in the ass…” she said softly.

“You haven’t. I do want to help you.” He turned towards her as he finished the preparation. “What can I do for you?”

She opened her mouth to speak and looked at him with… adoration? And not the fake kind some would throw at him after complimenting his looks. No-one had looked at him like that in ages. She eventually closed her mouth and dropped her gaze.

“Thank you, anyway, for everything.”

He nodded. “Glad I can help.” He wanted to snort at himself. Normally, he would say “Glad to be of service.” That’s what he vowed for anyway…

He mentally shook himself. “Goodnight. If there’s anything you need, literally, anything, just wake me up. I’m a light sleeper so you won’t have a problem.”

“Yeah,” she said with an almost bright smile. It disappeared immediately, as if she had realized she’d done something wrong. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

~

He was bone-deep exhausted. Over the past few weeks the clues had been coming and coming, and he had no idea how much he’d managed to sleep during the time. He nearly collapsed on the couch the moment he changed into his pyjamas, yet his mind wouldn’t stop.

Eight bloody years. Searching, reaching dead ends, failing, doubting himself, fearing for the girl, and it was over.

He couldn’t believe it and the excitement that it was all over came back, and he just stayed there looking at the floor like a buffoon, unable to sleep.

At some point well after midnight, he heard soft steps coming from his bedroom. Miranda appeared at the corner facing the couch and glanced at him.

“Can’t sleep either?” he said.

“Nope. I guess it was a big day for both of us.”

“Hmm,” he said as he awkwardly raised himself on his elbows. “Do you wanna talk?”

“Uhm… not really. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Do you… by any chance… have a chess board?”

~

“Sorry for the mess,” he said after taking off another box from the cupboard, finally able to reach the chess set. “I haven’t played in years.”

“It’s alright. And I’m sorry I’m making you play a mind game at two in the morning.”

“Eh, perhaps it will actually help me sleep. There. Take it.”

He turned to her, awkwardly passing the set over to her in his effort to hide his stump. He still noted that she hadn’t once glanced at it.

“I don’t even remember how or when it happened, but the set is missing a white knight. I’ve replaced it with the first random game piece I found and then never bothered to…” He drifted off when he noticed the look on her face. He could swear it was surprised, happily at that.

“Will that do?” She put her hand in her pocket and took out a white knight piece.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered and took the piece from her hand. It couldn’t be…

He opened the box and checked the remaining knight piece. They were identical. Hers was a little more worn out, of course, a few insignificant scratches here and there, along with a thinner felt at the bottom, but other than that, they looked like they belonged in the same set.

“Wow. What were the chances?” He laughed, but noticed as a sad smile grazed her face. “Do you wanna take the whites?”

“Uh, can I take the blacks?”

He shrugged. It was just a game.

The very first pieces she dug out of the box were the two black rooks. She took a closer look at them and smiled softly.

“This one is a little worn out too, like my knight.” Her smile was heard in her voice, and he couldn’t help feel a little lighter with the sound.

“Yes… I think it had fallen off once and by the time I found it it looked a little, well, worn out.”

She nodded, closing her fists around the pieces before she put them in their squares. She placed the rest of the pieces on her side with elegance and carefulness, always making sure the pieces were set at the exact center of each square. He watched with amazement as he did the exact same thing with his pieces.

“When was the last time you played?” she said.

“Oh, I can’t remember. I used to play a lot some years ago, but then I just suddenly… how about you?”

“One of the few luxuries I had in there was a small, plastic chess set. I played on my own to pass the time.” She was looking down at her side of the board.

“You knew how to play… before…?”

“Uh, yeah. My… my father taught me how to play.” Her eyes flickered towards her knight before looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh,” he said before he stood up and kneeled next to her, taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “It’s okay. I just… he- he was… I really wish I could see him again, but I don’t know where or how…”

“I can help. I have the means to find someone quickly.”

Like you did with her?, a small, painful voice reminded him.

“If you want me to help, of course.”

Miranda’s expressions were indeed peculiar. He had seen his fair share of victims, with various amounts of traumas and their obviousness, but he couldn’t understand why she was looking at him with such emotion - and why he felt that said emotion was welcome from him.

“Are you okay?” he said.

She closed her eyes, squeezed his hand and nodded. “Aye.”

He was a little stunned at her word choice. Had he used this word in front of her the whole day? He couldn’t remember.

Ignoring the feeling, he sat down on his chair again but she didn’t let go of his hand. He felt a small terror at the fact that he didn’t want her to.

Bloody hell, no. He was not getting invested. It was just a girl in desperate need for help and support, that was all. She’d find herself and move on and then they’d both forget about it.

“Uh… shall we play?” It was the only way he found would make her let go of his hand without directly asking for it. However she kept holding onto his hand absent-mindedly. He cleared his throat, catching her attention. She looked at him, then at his pieces, and waited as if he was just considering his first move. Then it hit her.

“Oh! Sorry,” she said as she yanked her hand away.

He smiled and moved a pawn.

As they were both tired, they were making slow and careless moves. The whole time he was trying to cover his stump with his sleeve, wanting to keep the sight away from her, but at one of his turns, as his hand was hovering above the queen and the bishop, contemplating his next move, he raised his stump to scratch behind his ear. He pulled it back mortified when he realized what he’d done.

But Miranda was still looking at his hovering hand, waiting for his move.

He kept his stump on his lap for the rest of the game, but didn’t try to cover it with the sleeve.

~

He didn’t know how much time had passed, he knew they were playing for a ridiculous amount of time considering the day they’d had, but at some point he realized he was being carried. By Miranda? There was no-one else there…

“We haven’t finished…” he murmured.

“S’okay, we’ll continue tomorrow.” She put him on the couch, a little gracelessly as he could barely stand on his feet from the exhaustion, but managed to cover him with his blanket.

Perhaps he was just falling asleep and floating towards dreaming.

He felt she was standing next to him for a few more moments, his hand in hers.

“I’ve missed you,” he heard from somewhere afar. And then someone kissed his cheek, before the feeling of her hand in his disappeared.

Oh, definitely a dream.

Note: Just in case you’re wondering, at that moment in the bedroom where Miranda was going to ask Rogers for something but let it go, she was going to ask him to tuck her in.

[piracytheorist]

Accepting Happiness

I wrote this a couple of months ago, and thought about adding it to my MC but decided I could just post it here separately. 

Summary: A little after reuniting with Alice, Killian takes a moment to try and let everything sink in. Hooked Queen, open to your interpretation.

Word count: 1045

AO3

~

There are birds flying outside the window.

Too deep in his thoughts, Killian feels too scared to look outside the window - too tired to raise his head, so he only looks at the shadows that reach the floor.

It helps him stay grounded, even a tiny bit. Looking as the shadows come and go... it helps him not drown in his terror.

He still can't believe his luck. He doesn't think it'll ever sink in, how lucky he is.

But the fear of that not lasting has already kicked in, and he's trying his damnest to not let it consume him.

The door opens, he can hear the hinges squeak against each other, but he doesn't have the energy to look up.

"Are you okay?"

Regina. She doesn't sound too worried, and he's glad. There's so many things he can handle at once.

He nods. Speaking would mean he'd have to move his hand away from his mouth - and it's the only thing that keeps his head from tilting forward completely.

"Can I sit?"

He nods again.

She sits next to him and he feels part of the weight lift and multiply at the same time.

"Alice is right outside, do you want me to call her?"

"Nuh-uh," he says, shaking his head. He moves his hand a little, supporting his chin on it and leaving his mouth free. "Seeing me like this is the last thing she needs right now. Is she alright?"

"Yeah, Robin's with her. Are you sure you don't want me to call her?"

"Aye." He's still hasn’t moved to look at her, just tranfixed on the shadows near the window. "I just needed a moment. To let everything sink in."

"I can guess it must be a lot."

"It is," he says, throwing a sarcastic, pathetic smile. "And I'm scared too. Of everything... going away. Of waking up and realizing it was just a dream. Of... of something happening and- and- I- I will..."

I will deserve it.

"Hey," she says softly, scooting closer. "Right now it's over. Try to focus on the present. If, if something happens later, we can deal with it then."

"We?"

"Yes. We're still a team. Even almost family."

He chuckles sadly, and his eyes fill with tears. "I knew Alice was suffering... and sometimes I'd berate myself for it, but in that tower, I was feeling happy. I cou- I couldn't... deny it. How happy and proud of her I felt everytime she crossed a milestone. Her first steps, her first words, her first accomplishments. And I'd hate myself for it because she was suffering."

"She wasn't suffering. She had you. You know very well she'd choose having you over her freedom any day."

"Yeah." He sniffles.

"You spent so long blaming yourself for feeling happy?"

"Not... not directly. But what you said- that was the problem. I didn't want her to put me above her freedom, I... I wanted her to be free, to live the life she wanted, and not stay stuck in that tower because of my mistakes."

"It wasn't-"

"Oh, stop. I was to blame too. And it's something I never had the heart to admit to her."

"She didn't know everything?"

He chuckles again, and his tears start falling. "She didn't even know Gothel was her mother. I didn't- I-" He lets out a shaky breath. "She deserved a better mother... and better memories of one."

"So you made some up."

"I didn't think it would ever matter, or that Gothel would ever have the nerve to admit it, especially to her." He squeezes his eyes shut. "What a fool I was..."

He feels her hand wrap softly around his wrist. "Stop punishing yourself. There was only one to blame, and she got was she deserved." She comes a bit closer. "And she can't hurt you anymore."

"Yeah, well." He opens his eyes. "Only the memories of her hurt enough." He lowers his hand, gently releasing it from her grasp. He clenches it into a fist on his lap. "She'll keep hurting-"

"Only if you allow her to," she interrupts him. "You can get help. Both of you, together or separately. Or both."

He nods. Years worth of memories of being a cop has taught him about how important it is to provide a positive image for therapy.

"You know, my whole life... it's like happiness came in year-long doses. As a child- a young child, I was happy. Then I turned eight, my mother died and everything went downhill. I was fr-" He stops himself. Even though there's a chance Regina already knows this part of his story from his other self, he's still not ready to speak it out loud, especially not now. "I was close to my brother for five years, and then he died. I was with Milah for seven, and then she died." He lets out a laugh completely void of mirth. "The time I spent in that tower was the longest I'd been happy my whole life."

She stays silent for a few seconds. Then she takes his hand in hers, rubbing softly in an effort to alleviate the tension. "I'm sorry," is all she says, and her tone makes him finally turn towards her.

She's also crying silently. He wants to punch himself - she just lost an important friend, and here he is moping, when he finally has what he'd spent fifteen years wishing for.

He opens his fist and wraps his hand around one of hers.

She sniffles softly and looks up at him, tears in her eyes. "Let's promise to each other we won't let the other go downhill."

"Aye. I promise." He tightens his hold a little. "I'm here, if you want to talk about him." The Crocodile, of all people.

"And I'm here if you feel scared and don't want to bother Alice with it. Although you should know she's certainly feeling something similar herself."

"Aye, no doubt. I hope Robin can help."

She gives him a look. Her smile and teary eyes lessen its effect.

He smiles back. "I know she will."

She moves then, wrapping her arms around him. He hugs her back, letting out a shaky breath as she rubs soft circles on his back.

[piracytheorist]

Remembering Alice

AO3

~

He hates to admit it, but at first it felt easier to feel like he belongs. Regina always acted motherly to Henry, but it was easier to be distracted by his friendship with Tiana, or by watching the blooming romance between Henry and Ella, or even by the later bond he created with Henry and Jack.

It never occurred to him that he would feel overwhelmed by this company, until Lucy came.

He was happy when she was born, he can't lie. A new addition to the family, as well as the happy faces of the parents - and the grandmother - should never be seen as a negative experience.

Yet, he'd lie if he said there aren't times it's too much. Every time he sees Henry or Ella wonder what to do when the baby doesn't stop crying, he remembers Alice, and how sometimes the only way to stop her crying was to walk around the tower room, singing softly while she rested on his shoulder. He remembers how she chewed on his hook while she was teething, how she actually loved drinking chamomile almost as much as she loved eating marmalade a few years after. Almost.

And then he remembers how now she's away, still trying to fix his mistake. The mistake that cost her as much as it did him - if not more.

So sometimes he sits with the others, offers to hold and play with baby Lucy, making all kinds of faces that make her laugh, talks with the others, allows himself some moments of happiness.

But other times, he just escapes to the privacy of the backside porch. It looks a bit abandoned, with ivy growing around the fence and parts of the stone walls cracked and missing. But no-one ever interrupts him here, when he lies down on the grass and looks at the stars. He always brings a small piece of rope to toy with between his fingers, to keep his hand occupied. Such moments remind him far too much of the time he would stand on the deck of his ship and drink, and now when he visits this porch it's the hardest time to not run down to the cellar and grab himself a bottle of wine.

So he toys with the rope. He holds it tight in his palm and pretends it's a rope from his ship, and he's back there, sailing away, with his Starfish next to him, ready to explore the world with him...

It's then he allows himself to break down and cry.