In the aftermath of that doozy of a two hour midseason finale back in season four, I had all kinds of ideas rolling around in my head for numerous other ways that Killian’s heart being taken could have played out, along with how more of Emma fighting to get his heart back and the two of them rejoicing at his survival could have gotten more time. I still don’t own these two characters, or anything related to the show, but I enjoyed the little trip back to that time in the show I took this week in editing this and creating cover art. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it as well…
Also on AO3orff.net, if that is your reading preference…
This cannot be real, cannot be happening again. Another man she loves – yes, loves – falling to the cold, hard floor of the Sheriff’s station, clutching his chest, mouth gaping in a struggle for breath, eyes already going half-glassy from their usually crisp, brilliant blue.
“Killian!” Emma chokes, falling to his side and reaching for him, forcing herself not to scream. His body stretches out before her limply, looking too much like Graham’s had nearly three years ago, too much like the horrifying death pose seared into her mind’s eye, no matter how much time has passed. She wants to ask what is wrong, but is petrified that she doesn’t need to; she knows exactly what is happening to her pirate. There had been nothing she could do when she was in this position before, and this is so much worse, so much more desperately necessary.
As she reaches out to shake Killian, gripping his shoulders with frantic hands, begging him to stay with her - stay awake - her eyes fall on the bootlace wrapped around her wrist; her reminder of the gentle, kind man who had died in her arms in this same station, and tears well over her eyelids, spilling down her cheeks to fall on Killian’s paling face. Those lovely, kissable lips that have always been so soft and tenderly coaxing on hers are open, panting, as he struggles to form her name, his one good hand clasping hers to pull her closer where she can hear his desperately whispered words. “Em-Emma…Love, I’m sorry…I k-know I promised…you d-didn’t have to w-worry…I m-may not be as g-good at…surviving…as I p-promised. The Crocodile…has m-made sure of it…this time…”
I guess I should apologize for being self-indulgent, because many of you may have read this little two shot before. It has been a while since I’ve gone back and looked at it though, and this morning I felt like looking it up again. It was one of my first CS/OuaT fics to gain some definite love and popularity back in the hiatus between 3a and 3b. Maybe some of my newer readers who missed it will enjoy, and maybe someone else will have fun looking back (I hope). Plus, it now has perfect, amazing, lovely cover art, courtesy of the wonderful @searchingwardrobes!!!
Summary:Just a little post-Neverland fic, taking place sometime after they’ve returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan’s gone, and there is no second curse. It was originally inspired (some years ago) by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook would manage to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I’ll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy - even all these years later and after how much closer our pirate and princess became…
If anyone had asked her, Emma Swan couldn’t have explained why she felt the sudden prickling of concern in the back of her mind, nor the unexpected, pressing need to make sure he was alright. Shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, she had fought against her impulses all day. She had busied herself with paperwork and answered calls about power outages and other inconveniences that came with the cold, wintry Maine weather, but there weren’t enough jobs by early afternoon to keep her mind from wandering back to him and her eyes from every so often floating up to check the clock.
David knew something was bothering her; Emma could feel her father’s eyes studying her for clues to her agitation. However, he was also wise enough to bite his tongue and not ask questions. She wanted to tell him to go on home to Snow, and she would finish up. Yet she didn’t, knowing that would only make him more curious. Resolutely, stubbornly, she kept finding any bit of busy work she could lay her hands on to stop the disconcerting waves of concern for him that were now rolling through her at regular intervals.
‘He’s a 300-year-old pirate captain, for Heaven’s sake!’ her mind berated her seeming irrationality. ‘He can certainly take care of himself in a sleepy little town. What in the world could he need you for? You haven’t had word of any kind of trouble…’ Still, while all of these arguments made perfect, reasonable sense, Emma found they didn’t soothe her unease in the slightest.
When the clock finally struck five, David stood casually, announcing that since they weren’t busy he was going to head home and help Snow with supper, if Emma didn’t need anything. Emma shook her head 'no’ with a small smile, thanking him and saying she would see him shortly.
“You’re sure I can’t do anything else to help before I leave?” her father asked sincerely, again looking at her so closely that Emma knew he was trying to divine her thoughts.
“Positive,” she reiterated with a definite nod, giving him a playful smirk and waving him out the door. “I’ll call if anything comes up, but I should be right behind you in an hour or so.”
Once her father had left her to her own devices, Emma tossed the case files she had been pretending to read across the surface of her desk and gave up all pretense of working. Standing up and beginning to pace, she at last admitted to herself that the worry swirling inside her for Hook was not going away – in fact, it was only growing stronger. Taking one last glance around the interior of the station, she realized that she wasn’t going to get anything else done, and she wouldn’t have any peace until she put her awful hunch to rest. Hook was going to tease her mercilessly about her concern for him, but apparently she was going to have to live with that. The fact that he tended to haunt her steps and turn up anywhere she might be, made it especially disconcerting that she hadn’t seen or heard from him in three days. At least, she was telling herself that was all it was.
I loved this the first time that I read it and I love it even more now that I’ve read it again!!!!!! I always wondered what Killian would be like if he ever got sick and was alone in the Jolly!!! And you have that to me and I am so grateful!!!! Thanks for sharing this again!!!!! Love love love love love love this!!!!!
