Once Upon a Time 1. Princess, Man of Revenge

**A/N: **Originally this series of one-shots started with _Daughter of Wisdom, Son of the Sea_, but that turned into a 20,000 word fic that still has more to be written (which I'll get to - I promise) so this is the official start of my AU one-shots. This one is a no-curse AU where Killian returns to the Enchanted Forest later than he does in canon.

As always, I don't own anything and freely admit to being a massive quote thief. Please enjoy and review (also, I do have a cold so there is a chance that certain things make sense to me but in reality, is nonsensical and I apologise, I'll re-draft it when I'm feeling better).

* * *

The Enchanted Forest has changed since he'd been there last. Of course, by Hook's estimate, that was over 300 years ago, so change was expected, he just hadn't thought it would shock him so much.

Hook turns from observing the port through his window and returns to his desk, searching through the reports. Rumours of the Dark One were inconsistent, Hook has been told that he was captured, defeated or that he had fled to another realm. But the rumours did have something in common and that was whatever had happened to his prey, Queen Snow and King David had been involved.

Hook has been investigating the current rulers of this land and finds himself mildly impressed. Whatever they did to the Dark One, they had also apparently managed to capture a witch calling herself the 'Evil Queen' and had ruled the land peacefully for the last 25 years.

He hates the idea of leaving his ship, even for his revenge, it had been his only comfort for the past 300 years, but he knows that his mission requires stealth and he is ready to sacrifice anything to achieve his goal, even if that means going inland for a time.

Smee interrupts his musing with a knock on his cabin and makes his way down the ladder after Hook barks at him to enter. Smee appears more nervous than usual as he twists his cap in his hands.

"Captain?" He starts cautiously, "We've got someone on deck who wants to see you, see says she's a-"

"Powerful sorceress who does not like to be kept waiting," a woman declares, appearing in a puff of purple smoke.

Hook may have been startled if he hadn't spent the last 300 years dealing with the overly dramatic Peter Pan, whose favourite game was to appear out of nowhere. He would never be grateful to that little demon, but he was glad his love of theatrics was actually helping him.

The woman seems surprised when he simply arches his brow and leans casually against his desk, "You're dismissed, Smee."

Smee is all too eager to leave, his self-preservation instinct a good trait for a pirate, but not a particularly good one for a first mate. Hook waits until his door closes with a bang before he speaks, feigning boredom.

"I haven't even been back in this realm long and already I've gained the attention of a sorceress, I'm flattered."

Her eyes are devoid of emotion, something that almost makes Hook shift uncomfortably and she smirks as if she knows.

"Well," she says dryly, "I heard that you have been making enquiries about a certain... Dark individual. I believe there can be a way for us both to get what we want."

Hook pushes off his desk and circles around the woman, attempting to find some crack in her icy shell. She is past her prime and was obviously well endowed based on her clothing and her ridiculous parasol. He stops his circuit in front of her, stepping into her space and she doesn't even flinch, in fact, her smirk grows wider.

"And what exactly, is it you want?" He asks, with a tone that usually sends women – and men – to their knees.

The sorceress was one of the only people he'd met so far – aside from that little demon – who seemed immune.

"You want the Dark One dead and I have a way to kill him, is there anything more you really need to know?"

Hook grins, a show of teeth, as he steps back with a courtly bow, "Captain Hook, my lady, and whom do I have the pleasure to be embarking on this journey with?"

Her smile is just as deadly as his, "My name is Cora."

* * *

Hook observes the castle as he enters, his subservient posture irritating him more than his itchy cloak. The castle is busy with flustered servants and obnoxious party guests, all here to celebrate Princess Emma's 25th birthday, and none of them noticing anything odd about another stranger.

He continues walking down the halls, pretending like he belongs. The weight on his hip seems to be dragging him down and he tries not to feel the evil emanating from the crooked dagger.

He has no reason to believe or trust Cora when she offered him the dagger, only taking the deal because he already knew about the Dark One's weakness. How he knew this was still painful for him to reflect upon, especially after he learnt that the young man was no longer in Neverland.

Hook shakes himself out of his memories and dismisses his feelings about the dagger as a flight of fancy. It is nothing more than a tool, a tool that would finally let him achieve his revenge.

He turns a corner and is delighted to discover he was in fact heading in the right direction, indicated by the presence of the guards at the other end of the corridor. He ducks his head further and begins to shamble along, ignoring their calls to stop.

One guard reaches out to stop him and he quickly rams his elbow into his face, ramming the other guard head first into the wall before he can call for help. Many would consider him weak for not taking the killing blow but he prefers to consider himself intelligent. The King and Queen will have many new issues to deal with after this evening and he prefers not to have a bounty on himself because he killed a few of their guards.

He pushes the door open, creaking as it goes, and grabs a torch from the bracket. The way down is dark and ominous and the weight on his hip seems to grow heavier.

The torchlight flickers as he goes and he whistles the cheeriest sea shanty he knows to focus himself. He sheds his ridiculous disguise as he walks, whistling merrily until he reaches a fork in the path.

Cora had told him of this, claimed she would give him the dagger and instructions to the Dark One's cell, which was apparently down the left path. Her price for the dagger was for him to simply release the prisoner from the right path first. He can recall her words clearly as he questioned why he even had to hold up his end of their bargain.

_"I am told pirate's have their own code, I suppose this will prove once and for all if this is the case. If not, it will prove that the rumours of what I do to people who cross me have been severely understated."_

The tunnel down the right path was similar to the rest of his journey, flickering torches showing the cell that awaited him. A figure shuffles in the shadows and a voice rings out, the cruelty diminished by weariness.

"You are certainly different from the usual figures who come to visit me. I suppose the only question is if you are here to rescue me or kill me?"

"Which would you prefer, my lady?"

The Evil Queen, the woman who terrorized the Enchanted Forest for years before her capture, moves into the torchlight, the years of her captivity changing her from the seductive queen she had rumoured to be.

"Neither option particularly appeals to me after these years, but it matters not, neither of us will leave this place."

She nods her head to something behind Hook and he turns quickly, stunned by what he sees. For a moment, he fears he is back on his ship, because this woman could be nothing more than a siren. She is dressed in a deep red ball gown, golden hair piled on top of her head and green eyes blazing with challenge.

Only the sword in her hand indicates she is a product of more than his own mind and he readies himself as she raises her other hand, surprising him further as her magic creates a white barrier between himself and Regina.

"Quite impressive that was, lass," he smiles, "Do the King and Queen like to dress their pet magicians like ladies or just the pretty ones?"

She doesn't crack a smile or show much reaction to him, only raising her brow slightly as she lifts her sword.

"You will no longer be able to reach her, no creatures of dark magic can cross that barricade. I suggest you surrender before the guards come as I will be slightly kinder."

"As tempting as that offer is lass, I'm afraid I have to decline, I have a deal to fulfil." He smirks at her before he continues, "I don't believe that you called the guards, lass, you would have wanted this glory all for yourself."

He unsheathes his own sword and falls into his stance, nodding approval when she does the same.

"Good form," he calls before he lunges at her. They circle each other, swords blocking and swinging, testing each other's defences. He catches her sword in his hook and she trips in her bulky gown, sword flying out of her hand.

His sword is at her throat before she can move and he feels a grudging respect for the defiance in her eyes.

"Now, there are more enjoyable activities I'd prefer to do with a woman on her back," he teases, "But with my life on the line you've left me no choice. Lower the barrier or we'll have to discover how permanent it is."

"Why would I do that?" She asks, all confidence, "When I'm winning?"

Hook isn't able to move before she lifts her left arm, blasting him back with his magic. He is knocked back into the cave wall and groans, cursing himself for his own foolishness.

He shakes his head to attempt to clear his vision and he sees her, that distracting, brilliant temptress, stagger to her feet and stand between him and Regina.

With his remaining pride, he bows in acknowledgement of her victory and begins to run in the opposite direction, hoping to escape the castle before the unconscious guards are discovered.

* * *

Emma slumps once the intruder is out of sight and lets go of her magic.

"Well, well, it certainly looks like you've learnt control," Regina snarks.

She looks to the woman who attempted to murder her parents on multiple occasions and can no longer dredge up her disdain for the woman.

"I learnt what I had to. Do you know that man?"

"I've never seen him before in my life and I suppose I'll have to wait another 25 years before anything interesting happens again."

"For the crimes you've committed, do you think you deserve any less?" Emma asks curiously.

Regina sighs and moves back into her cell, "The years in here have given me nothing but time to think and I've come to the conclusion that I wish your mother had the nerve to kill me. It would be kinder than my fate."

Emma turns from her, disturbed, and leaves without another word. The guards are stirring when she returns to the upper levels and she orders one to find her parents and order a search.

When she finally gets the opportunity to sleep, she is haunted by a pair of blue eyes, ones that for a moment, seemed to make her feel like she was brighter than the sun.

* * *

He tells himself he's observing the enemy so he can be prepared for the next time he attempts to infiltrate the castle. There is no other reason why he sneaks around to watch her train with her guards or interact with her people. There is a perfectly adequate explanation as to why he perks up when he sees the hint of blonde emerge from the palace gates, escorted by two of her guards, and it has nothing to do with the princess.

It had been quite a surprise to discover that he had duelled with the Princess Emma, the guest of honour at the ball just over a week ago. He had been too focused on his revenge to properly plan for his mission and he had to learn more about his greatest threat.

He had learnt that Princess Emma was both loved and adored by her people, and that was evident in the way the people greet her as she strides out of the gate, still as lovely in tights and a brocaded top. She is apparently in the possession of light magic due to being the product of True Love and Hook rubs the back of his head, remembering that despite the innocent way it sounded, it could definitely pack a punch.

He follows at a distance, watching her as she moves through the market, smiling with and talking to her subjects. She says something to her guards and they relax, moving around the stalls themselves and giving her some space.

He watches her delicate fingers as she browses the scarves, feeling the different materials. She slips a soft red one around her pale throat and for a moment as she contemplates, it feels like there is nothing else in the world but her.

The cacophony of the market quickly rushes back around him as she reluctantly puts the scarf back and looks to her guards, both of whom are busy watching a side show. She quickly moves into a side alley and Hook follows, intrigued to where she may want to go alone.

He sees a flash of gold at the end of the alley and quickens his pace, attempting not to lose her. He cannot see any trace of her after the next turn and curses, deciding to go back to observing the palace.

He hears something shift behind him and the knife is at his throat before he can defend himself, smiling at how easily he had been duped.

"Who are you?" She asks, emphasising her point by shifting the blade.

"Killian Jones," he replies, surprising himself with the choice of name, "But most people have come to call me by my more colourful moniker, Hook."

He swings said attachment to show why and she spins him around, blade still at his throat as she assesses him.

"And what do you want with me, _Hook_?"

"Well, princess, you made it obvious you are the biggest threat to my mission so I thought I'd do some reconnaissance before my next go."

"Your sneaking skills could use some work, last time you were carrying some seriously dark magic, I'm surprised everyone couldn't sense it. And this time you follow me in plain sight around the market."

"I suppose I am a little out of practice," he admits, "I've been away for some time. Now, do you might putting the dagger away, princess? We both know you're not going to kill me and I don't want you to accidentally cut my handsome face."

She looks to protest but sheathes her dagger, glaring all the while.

"Just don't forget, I do have my magic if you attempt anything," she threatens.

He raises his hands in supplication, "I'm just here for a chat, anything else if up to you."

Hook wiggles his eyebrows at her and he feels that if he looks hard enough, he can see the glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Why should I believe anything you say when you're working against my kingdom?"

"I don't particularly care about politics, princess, I have my own goals."

"Right," she says, crossing her arms, which draws Hook's attention to an inappropriate location, "So answer me this, why would anyone want to become the Dark One?"

Her words drag Hook out of his reverie, "Become the Dark One? I simply want to kill him."

"You didn't know? The dagger will kill Rumplestilkin, but it will transfer his Dark One powers over to you."

Hook feels the wind go out of his sails and leans against the alley wall as he contemplates his new dilemma. He has said on multiple times that he would do anything for his revenge, but this, this was something else.

The princess nods as if understanding his predicament, "Don't try to infiltrate the castle again," she warns, "I will stop you."

She begins to walk away and that seems to make the situation worse for Hook, he wants to say anything to keep her in his sight.

"You look lovely in red, princess, the scarf would suit you perfectly."

Her startled look somewhat eases the ache in his chest and once she is gone he slides down the wall, wondering how far he is willing to go for revenge.

* * *

Emma tells herself that her ride today is perfectly innocent and she is expecting nothing unusual to happen. Her rides are one of the only times she is alone, something she spent years getting her parents to agree to – all parties concurring that she would just sneak off on her own if they didn't let her.

Their terms made sense, she would always pick different days and times to ride, never falling into a pattern and always take a different path. If she wasn't back in two hours, they could send out all the search parties they liked.

Emma adjusts her scarf as her groom finishes with her horse, her new, red scarf and tells herself she is simply wearing it because it's starting to become cold and there is no other reason.

She's barely been told that she's ready to go before she's kicking in her heels and leaving the stables behind.

The wind is rushing through her hair as she takes the trail that leads to the ocean, tasting the salt on her tongue. She only slows when she can see the sea glittering in the sunlight and finally lets go of her courtly mask.

Emma dismounts and ties the reins to a tree before sitting near the edge of the forest, taking in the view. She's not sure how long passes before she hears snapping twigs behind her.

"You're not very good at sneaking through forests either," she calls, annoyance in her tone hiding her racing heart.

"I've never been very fond of forests, princess, I much prefer the sea."

He sits on the ground, a good metre away and looks over her appreciatively.

She expects teasing and is unprepared for what comes next, "The scarf does look beautiful on you, princess, but I imagine you could dress in a sack and still steal men's hearts."

She has always had a knack for hearing the truth and she can detect nothing but sincerity in his words.

"I liked it," she says simply, not willing to admit anything else.

"If you'll permit me, princess, I have a question for you."

She turns to face him and gives no other indication of her response which seems to inexplicably make him smile.

"Why are you doing this? Spending your days with a man who broke into your castle and could be a threat to your kingdom?"

"Have you decided what you're going to do about the Dark One?"

He sighs, "Deflecting with a question will get you nowhere in the end, princess." Hook settles back against a tree and looks over the ocean, the choppy water today an exact match for his eyes.

"I think despite your seemingly perfect life, nobody ever challenges you, nobody looks past the gown and the crown to see the woman underneath. I think you're lonely, princess, and you have been for some time."

His words sting, the truth stings and she snaps back, "And what would a pirate captain know of loneliness?"

She hears a rustle next to her and Emma knows it's a mistake but she finds herself looking at him, into those sincere blue eyes, "We all have our disguises, princess."

It's suddenly all too much and she stands, pushing herself away from the tree, from him and his perceptiveness. He doesn't move as she mounts her horse, eager to put some distance between them.

"I'll see you next time, princess."

* * *

It becomes a game between them, Emma stealthily moving away from her guards – the only challenger being that guard with curly hair and a stare like a wolf – and Killian eventually finding his way to her side. They eventually begin trading secrets in these stolen moments, especially after Killian rolled up his shirtsleeve and she saw his tattoo. Talking about Milah is simultaneously one of the hardest and easiest things he's ever had to do in his long life and he feels almost freer for having done so.

"That's why you want to kill him, isn't it? Rumplestilkin," she clarifies.

"Aye, you are a perceptive lass."

"Are you still going to try?"

He doesn't answer her question – he never does – still unsure about the cost of his revenge.

Emma eventually tells him of her ex-fiancée, Walsh, a man she thought she could trust who simply turned out to be another lecher after the secrets of her kingdom in order to be let back into his own realm, Oz.

"That man is a bloody fool."

She shrugs, "The last I heard he'd been turned into a flying monkey. I think that's punishment enough."

Calling her by her first name is a new development, something she'd recently insisted on. He likes the way her name sits on his tongue and that he was one of the few people allowed that privilege. The first time Emma had used his name, it had been to thank him for a bouquet of buttercups he'd brought her. She'd used it so casually he thought he'd misheard but she was staring at him with those beautiful green eyes and he wondered if he could be that man again. His true name hadn't been uttered in hundreds of years but it was starting to make Killian want more.

She tells him about her childhood and her struggles with her powers and he discusses his experiences in Neverland, apparently dashing many romantic stories from her early years. He eventually opens up as to how he became a pirate in the first place and she moves to grab his hand, the gesture both startling him and filling him with warmth.

She had told him before that she wouldn't be able to meet up today as her parents were throwing another ball. He had joked that her parents seemed a little optimistic since it had barely been a month since he'd broken into their last one but she's simply replied that that's the kind of people they were and they wanted to impress their guests from the Maritime Kingdom. The reminder of their first meeting sits heavily between them as they both know that if Killian were to attempt his revenge again, that would be the end.

Killian awkwardly adjusts the costume he is wearing, unused to being out of his leathers. The long brown coat is a nice change from his heavy leather one and he has to admit the white shirt is comfortable but he feels ill at ease amongst the royalty, invitation or not.

He positions the mask more appropriately on his face and fixes his fake hand as he observes the crowd, looking for the telltale glint of gold. He hadn't told her he planned on coming and their exchanges recently had been stilted, both fearing what he may again use the cover of the ball for.

When he spots her, it seems like that first night again where the rest of the world fades away. Tonight, she is just as stunning in a coral dress, adorned with feathers and jewels to match the swan mask that sits on her face.

He walks over to her before he can lose his nerve and executes a courtly bow to her and her dark-haired companion.

"Your highness," he says smoothly, "May I have the honour of a dance?"

"I am flattered by the gesture, my lord," she begins, before her eyes finally land on her face and she gasps, "And I would gladly accept."

She finishes her sentence in a rush practically drags him away.

"What are you doing here?" Emma hisses.

"I had an invite," he replies with a smile.

"Meaning you bribed someone." He can see her roll her eyes behind her mask and he gently grabs her hand to kiss her knuckles.

Her green eyes have settled on him intently and he can't wipe the smile from his face, "Your subjects are going to gossip if we don't actually start to dance, princess."

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and he has someone managed to make her speechless, "I'm a bit out of practice, Killian, I haven't danced since Walsh."

"No matter, Emma," he says, as he positions her hands, "I've found with a waltz there's only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

She smiled softly back to him and they dance as one, moving gracefully across the ballroom floor. If Killian hadn't realised it before, it hit him with full force why he wasn't currently seeking his revenge, why he had hidden the dagger away and not touched it since Emma revealed what it would do to it.

He was in love with a princess and a life consumed by revenge suddenly seemed worthless. Not when the light from the chandelier highlighted the different shades of gold in her hair, her eyes glowed with joy and her laugh warmed a part of his soul he'd thought he'd lost forever.

"So, princess, what would you think of a man who has left his path of revenge behind him? Of one with no titles or lands or anything one as incredible as you deserves?"

"That would depend on the man," she replies gently, "The rest of it has never been important to me."

Killian hums happily as he twirls her, wondering how after all those years of darkness, he'd finally found some hope.

* * *

Emma still feels as though she's floating as she retires to her rooms, the aching of her feet insignificant in light of her evening. She had barely managed to avoid her parents and she knew she owed them an explanation concerning why after so many years of not participating, she'd decided to spend her evening dancing away, but for now she wanted to enjoy the feeling before reality comes crashing down on her.

Her maids had stayed long enough to unlace her gown before she dismisses them, slipping out of it in the privacy of her chambers and treading over to her vanity. Her magic is easy to summon as she sits in her undershift and she closes her eyes as a picture forms in the mirror, not wanting to embarrass her friend again by catching her changing.

"Elsa?" She calls, "Are you there?"

"Yes, Emma, I'm here," a crystalline voice calls back, "You can open your eyes, I'm decent."

Emma looks to see her best friend sitting in front of her own mirror, hair loose from her usual braid and dressed in her own nightgown.

She smiles, glad to see her friend once again, "How are things in Arendelle?"

"Busy as usual," Elsa replies as she begins to brush her hair, "I think this is the first opportunity I've had to sit down all day."

"You've got to take care of yourself as well," she admonishes, "Or at least let Anna take care of you."

That causes Elsa to laugh, "Anna's got her hands full with her own daughter, she doesn't have time to take care of her sister as well."

Emma pouts at the reminder, "I wish I had time to visit and meet the baby."

"Our own wishes often come second to matters of state," Elsa replies with a sigh before she sits straighter with a determined expression on her face, "But enough of that, how have you been?"

Emma begins to describe what she has been up to since she spoke to Elsa last and is reminded how much she misses her friend. Emma was sent to a diplomatic mission to Arendelle after Elsa took the crown and they struck up an immediate friendship. Emma had been a bit of a late-bloomer where her powers were concerned and while Elsa had her powers her entire life, she did not have any control over them. They had struggled together to master their abilities but in the end they both prevailed and Arendelle and the Enchanted Kingdom had been firm allies ever since.

"So, when are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?" Elsa asks bluntly after Emma had been describing her last trip to the markets.

Emma blushes under her friend's scrutiny, "What makes you think anything's bothering me?"

"The fact that I know you, Emma, out with it."

"I think I might be falling for someone."

"I see," Elsa replies, her tone giving nothing away, "And who is this lucky suitor?"

"Uh, that's the thing," Emma starts awkwardly, "The first time I met him he broke into the castle to free one of our prisoners and we ended up duelling, and he happens to be a centuries old pirate captain."

Elsa's eyes appear to be popping out of her head, "Are you serious, Emma?" Elsa sighs before she can defend herself, "Don't answer that, I can tell you're serious."

Her friend places her hair brush down and places her hand on the mirror and Emma copies the action, pretending she can feel Elsa's cool touch.

"Emma, I know you like to think of yourself as a cynic but I know you better than that. I know you've grown up with everyone saying you're the product of True Love and desperately wanting the same for yourself and you deserve it, Emma, I just don't want you to be hurt again."

Emma nods in agreement, "It frightens me as well, Elsa, but we both know that shutting ourselves off from the possibility of a happy ending never ends well. I want to try."

"Does your pirate captain feel the same way?"

"We've been skirting around the issue for so long," Emma says with a sigh, "But when we danced together tonight, it's almost as though I could feel it. And he says he wants to change."

"Well, at least you're not claiming it was love at first sight, then I would have had to travel all the way to your land and make sure you understand what a fool you're being."

Their different views of love always make Emma laugh, "I'm pretty sure my parents fell in love at first sight, but my mother ending up robbing him and hitting him with a rock anyway."

"Just be careful, Emma," Elsa says seriously before smiling, "Now tell me all about your pirate captain."

* * *

Killian barely holds back to urge to whistle as he walks back to the inn. His mind was reliving every moment of the ball, remembering how it felt to have Emma in his arms, watching her move as gracefully as the swan that decorated her mask.

He nods to the innkeeper as he enters the taproom and makes his way upstairs, the music of the ball repeating in his mind. He is shrugging off his jacket and laying it on his bed before he notices anything is amiss and by then it is too late and he is unable to move.

He hears footsteps as Cora walks into his line of sight, her face unreadable.

"When I make deals with people, it is with the expectation that the other party will actually attempt to complete their task."

With a wave of her hand, he is released from the spell and he holds his ground as his mind races ahead.

"I have attempted it, my lady, I just ran into an issue that I am working towards fixing."

Her lips twitch into a cruel smirk, "Oh, do tell?"

"The princess," he says uncomfortably, "She can sense the magic of the dagger, it makes things difficult."

"Of course," Cora replies, "And in this time you have found no way to counter one princess?"

"I've been busy," he smirks, "As you well know, I've been away for some time, I thought I might reacclimatise myself to this realm."

Cora studies him and shakes her head, "No, that's not it at all, Captain. Maybe we should try a joint approach? You will go and release my daughter, taking your revenge on the man who stole your beloved from you and I will deal with the princess."

He cannot stop the growl that escapes him at her threat and she nods as if something was just confirmed for her.

"That's unfortunate, Captain. You chose her and the consequences of that decision."

There is no time for him to move or react before her hand plunges into his chest and he is gasping with the pain.

"Hearts are a funny thing, Captain," she says conversationally, "Sometimes, it is more useful to leave them in the chest. Taking them seems to take things such as initiative and resourcefulness, which I often need in pawns. However, there is a line where free will makes your other traits useless to me, a line you have just crossed."

When her speech ends, she pulls his heart out and Killian collapses to the floor in pain.

He wants to scream and shout and rage against his captivity but there is a voice that tells him to stand and he is helpless to do anything but obey.

"Now," Cora says, smiling maliciously, "We are going into the castle and you are going to do exactly as I say, is that clear?"

"Yes, my lady," Killian replies monotonously. The look on his face is blank and dead and shows nothing of the turmoil inside as what's left of his conscious weeps over what he may be forced to do.

* * *

Emma is unsure what awoke her and she listen for any intruders, grasping the knife hidden under her pillow. When she cannot hear anything, she sits up suddenly and releases a blinding flash of magic.

She quickly searches her room but finds nothing amiss and she laughs at her own foolishness. Her laughter is half-hearted as she can still sense something is wrong and she suddenly realises it's the same thing she sensed the night she met Killian.

Emma curses and races through her room, quickly dressing herself in her riding outfit and buckling her sword. She avoids the guards as she makes her way to the lower levels, needing to know for herself if she was simply being used again, if he simply offered her meaningless platitudes in order to make her lower her guard.

She is near the entrance to the prison when she smells it and the overwhelming scent of blood nearly makes her gag. She forces herself to take the final steps and she looks over the hallway, palace guards lying in puddles of blood, the prison door open.

Emma rushes over to them and curses herself for not sensing the danger sooner as she realises she is too late to save the guards. Her palm is alight with magic as she strides down into the darkness, wondering what she will find at the end. She lengthens her steps in order to catch up with the culprit, her heart hoping as her mind whispers that trust is for fools.

She nearly sighs with relief when she sees torchlight at the crossroads. In the light, she can see two people and her heart seems to shatter as she recognises the profile.

"Killian," she whispers to herself and the magic in her hand flickers. He is still dressed in his outfit from the ball, the only difference being the hook once again on his hand, and the reminder of their night summons her anger.

"Stop where you are!"

Both figures turn and Emma can see Killian – _Hook_ – is with an older woman, dressed in silks and carrying a parasol.

"Ah, Your Highness," the woman says, "We were wondering when you might be joining us."

Killian simply stands there, his eyes blank in the firelight but Emma can see all see needs to by the blood on his unsheathed blade.

"Surrender now," Emma repeats, "And neither of you will be harmed."

"I'm afraid only one of us will be harmed tonight, child. You see, I plan on having a very special reunion and I need the perfect gift. What could be a more perfect gift for Regina than letting her kill the daughter of her mortal enemy?"

Emma feels the blood drain from her face as she takes another look at the woman, "You're Cora, the Evil Queen's mother."

"I'm flattered you've heard of me, child."

Emma understands how much trouble she's in and she attempts to focus her magic, thinking of her parents and Elsa and all those she loves, but Killian's lifeless eyes keep invading her thoughts and her magic flickers in response, a fact not unnoticed by Cora.

"Poor child, it seems light magic is unreliable and useless, much like you."

Cora turns to Killian and says imperiously, "Go to Regina's cell and free her, I will be there with our prize momentarily." When he doesn't move, she touches a strange pouch tied to her waist and Killian begins to walk away without a glance in Emma's direction.

Her rage simmers and though her magic is much more powerful when fuelled by positive emotions, anger works just as well when she needs.

She uses the same trick she did before, this time making a barrier to the corridor where Regina's cell lies. But she is distracted enough that Cora's magic catches her off guard and she is flung back.

Emma gets to her feet groggily as Cora places her hand over the pouch and says to Killian, "Don't kill her, simply disarm her."

She barely has time to unsheathe her own blade before he swings, just getting her guard up in time. The swords collide and Emma is disgusted by the blood that is drying on his blade.

"Why are you doing this?" She asks as she parries another one of his blows, "What changed?"

He doesn't respond as they continue to trade blows, Emma holding her own now that she isn't hindered by skirts.

"I wouldn't bother, dear," Cora calls, "He doesn't have the _heart_ to respond."

Cora cackles as Emma falters and Killian's next strike is precise, her blade flying out of her hand.

Emma stands defiantly as Killian's blade is levelled at her throat and looks over to Cora.

"You took his heart?"

"It was quite easy really," she claims and pulls his heart out of the bag at her hip, "Love had made him oblivious to the danger around him."

Cora gives the heart a squeeze and Killian staggers, the sword falling out of his hand.

"What are you doing?" Emma cries, "Stop!"

"I'm simply showing you a lesson, child," Cora continues patiently, walking over to Emma and replacing the heart in the bag, "Love is weakness."

The pain Emma feels when Cora's hand enters her chest is unbearable and she gasps with the shock. She fears the end when Cora pulls... But nothing happens. Cora pulls again and Emma looks down at Killian and feels her magic hum through her veins.

"You're wrong," Emma says, conviction in her voice, "Love is strength."

Her magic blasts Cora back and the witch slams into the wall, unconscious. Emma stands shocked for a moment before she rushes over to Cora and pulls the bag from her waist.

Killian staggers to his feet as she approaches him and he looks too dazed to be any threat. She pulls his heart out of the bag and holds it for a moment, feeling it pulse in her hand.

She looks at his blank eyes and remembers how blue they seemed when they danced, shining brighter than any jewel.

"Killian, come back to me," she pleads before shoving his heart into his chest.

He staggers and she waits fearfully, hands clenched over her heart. She breathes a sigh of relief when he looks up and she can't help the grin that spreads over her face in response to his own.

"Emma," he breathes, "You are bloody brilliant, amazing."

She laughs and flings herself into his arms, enjoying the feeling of his hand and hook wrapped around her back.

She pulls back reluctantly and looks into his face, blue eyes blazing with emotion.

"I love you, Emma."

Her heartbeat picks up at his words and she fears her face may stretch from smiling too much.

"And I love you. Don't do that to me again."

His kiss is a promise and she curls her fingers into his hair, enjoying the way their lips move together. They break apart and Killian leans his forehead against her own.

"Why do I think fighting Cora is going to seem easy in comparison to convincing your parents of having a pirate captain for a suitor."

"You're a good man, Killian, that's enough to them." She says firmly and takes his hand in her own.

She encases Cora in her magic and begins moving towards the stairs, mentally rehearsing what she plans to say to her parents.

His steps are hesitant and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, "It'll be you and me, Killian, always."

* * *

**A/N: **I hope you all liked it! I have some more AU ideas on the brain so I'll hopefully that the next one up within the next two to three weeks.

Be well,

Adrina Stark.


	2. Thief, Lieutenant

**A/N: **Began with an idea from the prompt "Kissed them while stealing their wallet" and turned into this. It's probably best to classify it as leftenant duckling (it's usually called lieutenant duckling, right? I just re-watched Good Form and he says leftenant so I'm sticking to that). I do swap between saying 'lieutenant' and 'leftenant' for Killian and Emma in an attempt to keep with their accents, so I may have gotten them mixed once or twice.

As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review.

* * *

Emma looks into her money pouch with a sigh, seeing nothing but a smattering of bronze coins. It seems she was asking too much to hope some gold ones might magically appear.

She knots it back on her belt angrily and checks her other pouch is secure. All she had wanted was a nice bag of gold for her work, instead, she was betrayed and she is now on the run from people who may be slightly upset with her for stealing from them.

Revellers exit the tavern, forcing Emma back into the dark alley. The noise lessens when the door finally swings shut and Emma sighs again as she begins to unlace her corset and adjusts her long hair. Her normal gear of tights and a shirt would draw too much attention in the town and Emma needs to stay away from the authorities while she gathers enough money to book herself onto a ship or carriage and find someone far away to sell the damn compass to.

She forces a smile onto her face and sways into the tavern, the din momentarily overwhelming her. She moves through the tavern with an easy grace, deftly avoiding reaching hands with giggles and shy smiles as she searches for her mark, hoping the gropers all get some sort of food poisoning.

Emma internally sighs with relief when she spots her mark, still buttoned up in his navel uniform, ponytail neat as he reluctantly nurses his rum. He scratches himself awkwardly behind his ear as he gazes around the tavern, blushing at every bosom he accidentally looks at.

Emma grins, already sensing victory and tucks her hair behind her ears before she swaggers over, leaning over his table to give him the perfect view.

"What are you up to, sailor?" She purrs, and tries not to let her confusion show when his eyes – piercing blue in the dim light – lock firmly onto her face, despite the impressive sway she can feel her breasts are giving.

He is gaping before he gives an awkward cough, his eyes moving downwards in embarrassment, blush deepening when his gaze unintentionally moves to her breasts.

"I've been ordered to take the night off," he finally admits as Emma sits on the bench next to him.

"Ordered? Don't you want to have fun?" She smiles with a lick of her lips.

"It's not that, lass," he claims, "It's simply that we have an early start tomorrow and it hardly seems like good form to be in less than peak condition for when we set sail."

"Good form," she tests, "You know what's not good form, sailor? Letting a girl drink alone."

She waves down a bar maid, who looks frazzled and impatient, and Emma is about to reluctantly part with the last of her money before the sailor cuts in.

"Allow me, lass," he says, before pulling a gold coin from the pouch at his waist. Emma notes its location and shifts so she's straddling the bench, considering the best position to grab it.

"I'm sure you've been to so many places," she gushes, pouring a generous serve of whatever brew they were brought.

"A few, I've naught been a leftenant for long. I'm not as well-travelled as you may think."

"I've never left my town," Emma says modestly, "That means you've already seen more than me."

Emma holds her cup up for a toast, "To new experiences."

He doesn't break eye contact as he repeats her toast and downs the drink, both coughing as it burns their throat, Emma only fairly slightly better.

"That's certainly an experience," he coughs and they laugh as Emma pours another one.

"So, who do I have the pleasure of drinking with tonight?" He asks and Emma ignores the sincerity in his tone.

"Where's the fun in that?" She pouts.

"Do you want me to call you 'lass' all night?" He responds with an arch of his brow, a look that sends a shiver down her spine as she considers he would be a tough opponent if he weren't so inexperienced.

"I like it when you say it, what shall I call you?"

Emma 'accidentally' brushes his hand as she reaches for her drink and the sailor shivers in response.

"Killian will do just fine, lass," he says huskily and Emma shifts, attempting to alleviate the tension their interactions are building between her legs. The motion makes the compass at her waist move, reminding Emma of why she is in this situation in the first place and firmly shuts down any ideas of taking it further.

"So, Killian," she breaths, "On what grand adventure are you sailing off on next?"

The alcohol has begun to make Killian bold and he shifts forward slightly as he responds, "I've no idea, lass, I'm merely a simple leftenant who follows the commands of his captain. I'm more interested in what brings a beautiful lass like yourself into this establishment."

Emma blinks at the compliment, sensing that he means it genuinely rather than as a gesture to make her more pliable.

"My... betrothed left me," she finally says, surprising herself with her honestly, "And he was in a spot of trouble with the law when he ran and now he's left me to clean up his mess."

"That man is the biggest idiot in all the realms," he states, "And you can trust my word on that, lass, I've been to three of them."

Emma chuckles weakly, trying to remember the last time she actually laughed.

That's when she realises she needs to go, to get away from this sincere lieutenant with seemingly bottomless blue eyes and a kind smile, needs to take his money and get away from this place. Sell her compass and start a new life for herself, where she doesn't have to steal in order to get her next meal.

What she does next seems like the easy option as they move into the awkward lull in conversation after laughter. Her eyes drop to his lips and his copy the motion and Killian offers no resistance – in fact he leans in slightly – as she moves to kiss him. She tells herself that it's merely a tool of distraction, but there is a part of herself that has been tempted ever since she laid eyes on him.

The kiss is sloppy, teeth knocking and awkward movement as Killian learns the motions but there is something building that makes her want more. They breathe together as his hands tangle in her hair, one of hers going to his shoulder and the other slowly making its way to his hip.

She has almost untied the strings, deepening the kiss and stills as a hand is gently placed on the one attempting to steal from him.

"Easy, lass," he whispers softly against her lips, "If you need help, you don't have to steal from me, you need only trust me."

His two last words jerk her back to reality. His grip is still gentle on her wrist but she can feel nothing but threat and the prospect of being abandoned once again, so she reacts.

Her jab with her left hand is swift and Killian curses as he reels back. She pulls the remaining strings on the pouch and moves to stand, dreaming of when she can remove the skirts that hamper her. She feels a tug on her waist as Killian reaches for her.

She thinks he's saying something but all she can hear is the pounding in her ears as whatever he's grabbed onto gives way and she's free, out the door and running into the darkness of the night.

* * *

Emma only begins to relax when she reaches the tree hollow where she had stashed her clothes and pack earlier in the day and she quickly strips off her dress, wondering if she has time to return it to where she stole it from.

Back in her own clothes, hair secured, Emma feels stronger, like she's replaced her armour and it's only when she's frantically searching through the pile of discarded clothes that she realises a horrible truth.

Killian must have pulled the compass off her belt.

She screams into the night and kicks a tree stump, adding a sore toe to her woes. She double checks her knives and secures her cloak, determined to find the next transport available and get as far away from this town with the gold she actually managed to hang on to.

* * *

Killian is in a foul mood as he walks to the ship, a common affliction among the crew as several seem to be nursing sore heads, the price of bad form. Killian's own headache has receded somewhat, his foul mood caused only by a blonde siren. He had known she was suspicious from the moment she swayed over to him, green eyes inviting and Killian had allowed himself to be drawn in, to be charmed.

And still, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her – even though she'd taken all his money – he'd seen the fear in her eyes and he is annoyed that a part of him still wants to help her. If he knew anything, he should throw that compass she'd had on her into the sea.

It was currently secured on his person and he curses himself for a fool for not reporting her. He knows that he won't, even though he has Liam now, he won't betray a fellow orphan and he could see that in her all too well.

He turns his mind to the crew as he walks upon the deck, fixing the uniform of one man.

"Apologise, leftenant," the man says as Killian turns.

"It's Leftenant Jones," Killian mutters in response.

"The Captain is in transit with orders from the king himself and before he does this ship will be swabbed from stem to sternum." Killian catches something in the corner of his eye and represses a sigh, "Rum, sailor?"

Both bring up images of the green-eyed lass and Killiam impatiently pushes her out of his mind, telling himself that there is nothing he can do for her.

"Does anyone know what happens to sailors that drink rum?" He asks, meeting the eyes of different members of the crew, "They get drunk. And drunkenness leads to bad form."

He tosses the flask overboard with satisfaction, wishing it was just the rum that plagues him.

He is interrupted from berating the crew further by the timely arrival of Liam and watches in admiration as he interacts with the crew. Liam's presence helps to anchor him as he prepares for whatever mission their King has commanded them to complete. He is able to put the lass to the back of his mind and focus on nothing more than making his brother proud.

* * *

Emma scrubs at the stain with more force, cursing drunks and their abilities to spill.

"Careful with that, Emma, if you scrub any harder, we're not going to have a table."

Emma rolls her eyes in Ruby's direction and the other woman only laughs in response.

"It's as clean as it's going to get, why don't you take our little hero to bed and I'll open up. A ship apparently docked today so we might get a bigger crowd."

She nods gratefully as Ruby makes the final preparations and Emma moves over to the booth in the corner. She smiles fondly as she watches Henry quietly colour.

"Mummy?" He asks when he notices her, "Is it time for bed already?"

"Yeah, baby, it is."

Henry raises his arms and she pulls him up, remembering when he was light and dainty and not a chubby four-year-old.

"If you do any more growing, Henry, I'm not going to be able to carry you to bed," she teases.

"No, you have to!"

Emma laughs as she walks past Ruby, who gives Henry a quick good night kiss before she makes her way upstairs.

"We'll have to think of ways to keep you small then," she muses.

"Less carrots!" Henry offers gleefully.

"No, Granny loves giving you carrots. I know," she says brightly, "We'll just have to tickle you!"

Henry laughs and squeals and manages to wriggle out of her arms and run to their bedroom.

"No, more Mummy, I want to grow."

"Okay, fine, you can grow, baby, but to do that you need lots of sleep so go get ready."

* * *

Emma gently brushes back hair from Henry's forehead as he snores and she is so glad they have something to call their own now. The room has a draft and they have to share, but he gets three meals a day and a warm bed, more than Emma could provide for the first couple of months of his life.

The Lucas' saved her and more importantly, they saved her son and she wonders if there's any way she could ever repay them.

Rowdy laughter echoes from downstairs, reminding Emma of her work and she gently closes their bedroom door as she leaves.

The room is nearly crowded when Emma returns and Ruby looks pathetically grateful to see her.

"Good, you're back, can you take these to the corner table?"

Ruby is shoving the drinks in Emma's hands before she can get another word in and she mentally prepares herself for a long night.

She puts on her best smile and walks over to the table, placing the drinks down and freezes when she meets blue eyes.

Gone is the ponytail and the uniform, replaced by short hair and black leather. By the way his arm is draped around the woman next to him, he has certainly overcome his shy demeanour. But his eyes haven't changed, they are still astonishingly blue and sincere.

"Hello, lass," he whispers, shattering any illusions Emma may have of going unrecognised.

"It's Emma," she responds, before she leaves his drink and flees to the bar, ignoring the way his eyes track her for the entire night.

* * *

She has heard the stories of the fearsome Captain Jones, how he only attacks royal ships and takes no prisoners. Emma knows she should be more wary around a pirate, but he makes it difficult for her with those eyes and that smile.

He comes back the next day for lunch, explaining that his ship was damaged in their last fight and repairs should take another couple of days. She pretends not to care as she delivers his food, taking safety behind her walls.

He puts the first crack in them when Henry runs in, caked in mud from playing with the other children and his eyes widen when they land on Killian.

"Are you a real pirate?" He gasps and Killian laughs.

"Aye, that I am lad."

Henry opens his mouth with more questions and Emma knows there is no stopping him after then, so she quickly cuts in.

"Go pester the captain after you've cleaned up, Henry, Granny will not be happy with you tracking mud everywhere."

Henry dashes off sullenly and Emma turns awkwardly, unsure of how to carry on.

"Seems like a nice lad you've got there."

"He is."

"He's lucky to have you."

The cracks build, especially when Killian is the only man in the room who is more interested in telling wild tales to a young boy than attempting to grope the staff. Attempting being the operative word as the one thing Granny hates more than burnt meatloaf is some drunk manhandling her girls.

Killian leaves four days later and she tries not to feel disappointed as he awkwardly scratches behind his ear while telling her. She doesn't believe him when he tells her he'll be back, she has no reason to and she continues on for weeks, pretending she doesn't want more from life.

And then he comes back.

He always comes back.

He brings silks and jewelry for Emma and epic stories for Henry. She refuses his gifts until he encourages her to sell them and buy something for Henry. The only thing she does keep is a simple golden broach in the shape of a swan and she allows herself a moment to enjoy the way Killian's eyes light up when he sees her wearing it.

He hangs around whenever he's in port and inevitably they begin to open up. Killian tells her why he never reported her theft – the fear of abandonment is too easy to recognise in a fellow orphan – and she admits to why she needed to run and later discovering her pregnancy. He chokes when he talks about his mission, what happened to Liam and how he started on this path seeking justice (vengeance, he later admits) and some days he wakes up and wonders how he got here. Emma feels relived when she finally speaks about her pregnancy, how she considered the idea of giving Henry up but couldn't once she'd held him in her arms, how she did things she never would have contemplated in order to get him food and clothing.

Emma feels lighter around Killian, not just because he's kind to her son or because for some odd reason she implicitly trusts him or because he makes her laugh more than anyone (except Henry).

Granny chides him whenever he swaggers in, asking if his ship has even properly docked yet and his simply winks in her direction, claiming he'd been missing her meatloaf ever since he left port.

They've been dancing around each other for nearly a year now and Emma can feel her final defences failing as Henry talks to Killian about his father.

"He was a naval lieutenant, but he was lost at sea," Henry says innocently, both proud and sad of his idea of a father.

Killian comes up to later, "That's an interesting story you told your lad."

She resists the urge to meet his eyes, "It's better than the truth."

In Emma's darker moments, she had pretended it was true, because the short time she had spent with Killian Jones had made her feel more alive than any experience with Henry's father and she preferred the lie.

* * *

Emma is beginning to close up as Killian lingers, shifting on the bar stool nervously.

"I really do need to lock the door soon, Killian, and you have an early start tomorrow," she reminds him.

"I know, lass, can't a man simply want to spend time with you for memories to keep him company in the dark of the night."

"You've got plenty of people to keep you company in the dark of the night," she responds sharply, sick of her jealousy.

His voice is gentle from across the room, "You know I haven't, Emma, ever since that night I saw you again."

Emma looks slowly over to him, everything she fears – she wants – clear on his face. He may have shed the ponytail and now dresses in leather but at heart he is still that kind lieutenant who wanted nothing more than to help her despite the fact she was attempting to steal from him.

For the last couple of years, Emma has focused solely on Henry and she loves her son and considers every sacrifice worth it for his smile but for one night, Emma wants to be selfish. She wants something for herself.

She walks slowly over to him, secure in the knowledge Henry has two competent guardians watching his sleep and enamoured by the way Killian's staring at her, like she's the brightest treasure he could ever find. Emma pauses between his legs, wishing for the courage to move closer.

"Emma," he whispers huskily and that and the look in the eyes is enough to push her forward, lips surging to meet his.

There is no hesitation as Killian's hands wrap in her hair and he's certainly had more practice since their last kiss. His tongue flicks over her lips and she angles the kiss to make it deeper, bodies pushed right together. Her hands wander his body with no other purpose for this kiss and pause on his chest as they hover together, forehead to forehead.

"That was-"

"Just the start, sailor, want to give me a tour of your ship?"

His grin is bright and infectious, "Aye, lass, let us set sail."

* * *

Emma had never allowed himself to go his ship before, knowing that it would end with other activities in the captain's cabin but now she explored it curiously, draped in only his loose shirt.

"Anything in particular you're interested in, love?"

Killian is propped up in the bed, sheets pooling around his waist as he watches her with interest.

"Not exactly the cabin of a terrifying pirate captain."

He snorts at that, "What am I supposed to have? Piles of treasures and women chained to the walls?"

Emma scrunches up her nose, "Maybe not that then, but there's more... paper, than I expected."

Killian shrugs and Emma is momentarily distracted by the toned muscles, "Intelligence is everything, love, have to know where ships are if you want to steal from them."

He's making another comment when Emma notices something glinting on the desk and picks it up with awe.

"You kept it?" She whispers and Killian is silent for a beat.

"Aye."

She climbs back under the covers and snuggles into his side, holding the compass between them.

"It doesn't even work properly."

"Quite right, love, the blasted thing has never pointed true north but..."

"But what?" Emma asks as Killian steals a quick kiss.

Emma allows herself a moment to relish the sensation before she pulls back, repeating, "But what?"

Killian sighs, sensing she's not going to let it go, "The ship had taken on some damage and we needed to dock in a port that wouldn't turn us in. We'd had some trouble and I wasn't certain of whom we could count as allies. In a fit of nostalgia, I brought out that compass and decided to let it decide my fate. I followed it to a certain town and stumbled into the first tavern I could find." Emma's breath hitched as he entwined their hands, "And then everything changed."

"You're saying the compass lead you to me?" She asked quietly.

"Believe what you wish, love, that's the story."

Emma had hated fate, destiny, the force that was responsible for her being abandoned time and time again but for once in her life, she wanted more.

"I choose to believe."

"Then come with me."

* * *

Emma found some difficulty with the decision but Ruby simply rolls her eyes and tells her she's been waiting for it to happen for months and Granny merely insists that they visit and for Henry to eat his vegetables.

Before she knows it, she's back on the Jolly Roger, bags in her hand and Henry on her hip. They settle into the captain's quarters and none of them can keep the smile of their face.

"Where to, love?" Killian asks.

Emma looks at the compass, pointing in a direction that is decidedly not north and grins, "Wherever the winds take us."

They never look back.

* * *

**A/N: **Ta da, it's kind of sappy which you'll probably appreciate when I put up the next one for this series (I'm sorry in advance).

Have a good morning/day/night,

Adrina Stark.


	3. Unborn, Pirate

**A/N: **I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Warnings: character death. I don't know how to make it more clear that I am a terrible person and my brain has evil thoughts. This is based off a random (and horrid) thought I had some time ago that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Canon divergent on 3x22.

Andria, thank you for your wonderful review, this is a terrible way to pay back such kindness.

As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy (or not, I'm mean) and review (unless you want to curse me - please no curses).

* * *

Killian trails behind the group, not exactly happily but with slightly more bounce in his step than you'd expect from a man who just assisted with a jailbreak. He watches Emma as he goes, still chuckling to himself about her abilities to impress him and cuts into the next hallway.

He moves to the window overlooking the courtyard and freezes, heart plummeting at the sight before him.

"What is it?" Emma asks behind him, "Did you find Snow?"

Despair enters his tone as his replies, wishing for any way to take Swan from the scene, "I'm afraid so."

Black Knights are arranged in the courtyard below and with a nod from Regina – the Evil Queen – they bind Snow White's hands above her head, securing her to the pyre.

"We have to get down there before it's too late," Emma says beseechingly to her father and Killian is momentarily glad – then guilty at the thought – that he doesn't have to deliver the news that is so obvious to him.

A conclusion the Prince is reluctant to admit, "I don't think we can."

Killian cannot turn away from Snow, defiance clearly shown in her expression until the bag blocks it from view.

"No," Emma whispers and her pain distracts Killian from his own horror, at what they're about to witness and knowing it's due to their interference.

His arms go around her shoulders and he pulls her into his chest, offering what support he can as the Evil Queen summons her fireball. Once, Emma's touch on his arm would have thrilled him but he is too horrified by what is about to occur to Snow and as a consequence, Emma.

They look on in horror as the Evil Queen releases her magic and the pyre is light, Snow White with it. He can distantly hear Ruby's exclamation of horror, along with the quiet whimpers of the woman Emma rescued but his entire focus is on Emma. She moves closer in his arms as she sobs and Killian cannot stop the tears from falling down his own face.

"We killed her," Emma wails, "We killed my mother."

Killian can say nothing to counter it as he ignores the confusion of the others, stroking Emma's hair soothingly.

"We have to go," the Prince says, obviously shocked and Killian wonders if he can understand the magnitude of his loss.

Ruby howls and throws back her cloak, leaping into the night in her wolf form.

He's about to ask her to stop when Emma gasps in pain, "What is it?" He asks urgently.

Her eyes are dull and the light shining through the window highlights the tear tracks on her face, "I don't exist."

Killian is about to protest when she doubles over, Killian grabbing her shoulders.

"What's wrong with her?" The Prince asks and Killian ignores him.

"Stay with me, Swan, we're going to be fine."

"I killed my mother," her voice breaks, "I killed my son, Killian, what have I done?"

He makes no move to wipe away the tears falling down his cheeks, his right hand holding Emma all the tighter, "We're going to fix this, Swan. We are. You just hold on."

She smiles weakly and he's about to respond when his hand goes through her shoulder. His heart stutters painfully in his chest as he gazes at her, slowly fading away.

Emma is silently crying, resigned to her fate and Killian drops before her, pleading, "No, Swan, you don't get to do this, please, please don't leave me. I love you, Emma Swan, every stubborn part of you and I need you to stay. We can fix this."

A ghostly hand cups his cheek and he leans into it, trying to trade his life force.

"I could have loved you. That frightened me more than anything."

"We'll have time," he says eagerly, desperately, moving his hand to play with a strand of her hair and passing straight through, fresh tears marking his face, "When we get back, you can stop running from everything, we can start fresh."

"Tell me," she whispers, her voice little more than an echo, "What's our future like?"

Killian focuses on her green eyes, pretending he can't see the wall behind them, "Well, first, I'll have to win over your parents," he gets a quiet laugh that turns into a sob for that, "and we'll go sailing, every weekend. We'll go with Henry and your baby brother when he's old enough. We could have our own crew and I'll make sure to surprise you and legally acquire a vehicle every so often."

He shuts his eyes for a moment, picturing the scene and smiling and when he opens them again he sees a glint of faded gold before she is gone from his sight.

"No," he roars, getting to his feet, "Swan, Emma! Emma!"

"What is wrong with you?" The Prince asks, grabbing his arm, "Who is Emma? And who are you?"

Killian pulls away in despair, screaming for Emma. Memories flash through his mind, the joy of dancing with her, how his heart leapt as she opened her apartment door, a single word of hope on the town line, the taste of her lips in Neverland. The memories continue to drift through his mind, floating away like a leaf on the wind until he finally remembers cursing Cora as he hides under a pile of corpses. He remembers being turned over and all he can see is gold. As the world darkens around him, he notices his throat is raw and his screams are still echoing in the air, repeating a name that is unfamiliar to him in every way.

* * *

Hook wakes in his cabin, head pounding and blinks in the morning light, attempting to orient himself. He wipes the dampness from his cheeks, wondering which of his ghosts visited him in his dreams. A body shifts in the sheets next to him and he sees brunette hair splayed across his pillow, no memories of who she is or what activities they partook in the night before.

There is a strange moment where he is convinced she should be blonde, but the thought fades quickly and he shakes his head to clear them of the unusual thoughts. He'd always been partial to brunettes.

He moves out from under the covers, uncaring of the comfort of his bed mate and walks to his desk, not bothering to dress. Hook flicks through the reports on his desk until he finds the one he received yesterday, the reason for his celebrations. According to reports, the Dark One's maid had been captured by the Evil Queen and if anyone is likely to know the location of the dagger, it's her.

His hand begins to tremble and he drops the note, confused by his own weakness. The thought that everything is wrong overtakes him suddenly and his heart clenches, the sense of loss overpowering. But he has been hunting his crocodile for centuries and that habit is comforting and more real than any strange ideas that he could have a more fulfilling life. The crocodile killed what mattered most to him and that is the thought that guides him.

He clenches his hands into a fist and calms himself, taking strength from the gentle motions of the ship.

Only death would stop him from seeking his vengeance.

Little did the fearsome Captain Hook know, that was now his fate.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, sorry. But not really. If I had to picture this scene, you have to share my pain. If you're here looking for happy little AU one-shots, it seems like you're in the wrong place.

Adrina Stark.


	4. Rookie, Engineer

**A/N: **I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this one, I hope to kick myself into gear soon. This little one-shot was written as a present on Tumblr.

As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review.

* * *

It was meant to be a couple of days, a week at most. But here they were, four months later and Emma Swan was still in his apartment, crowding both his home and his thoughts.

He slides open his phone and searches for the text that started it all, the one that would change his life forever.

_Killian, I need a favor – my sister's coming to town for a couple of days for work and she's not going to get a lot of sleep with Leo crying. Any chance she can stay with you?_

Killian had replied in the affirmative and hadn't given it much thought after that, too busy cooing over the little lad that night. He had a spare room and was in the process of finding another room mate that wouldn't completely irritate him so what would it matter if it was used for a couple of days?

He had put clean sheets on the spare bed then stayed up most of the working on some schematics, unaware of the storm that was about to blow into his life.

* * *

Killian stumbles out of bed, bleary eyed, to answer the impatient knocking on his door. He would initially blame his staring on the fact he had just awoken but the truth was, his early morning visitor simply stuns him.

"You Killian?" The woman asks as he racks his mind as to why a beautiful woman would be looking for him so early in the morning.

"That I am, lass, how can I be of service?"

She seems to be resisting the urge to roll her eyes and Killian bites back a smile, enjoying the fact he could rile her up.

"David said you were willing to put me up while I'm in town."

Realisation dawns on Killian that this was in fact David's – his best friend's – sister and he had spent practically the entirety of their exchange checking her out.

He quickly pulls the door fully open and ushers her inside, "Of course, I apologise, I'm afraid I spent much too long working on projects last night."

He forces his eyes away from her dark wash jeans as she walks past and gestures past his kitchen, "Spare bedroom's right down there, make yourself comfortable."

She nods and takes her bags to her room, Killian leaning his head against his kitchen cupboard, calling himself ten kinds of fool.

He's pulled on a shirt and is pouring himself a generous cup of coffee – ignoring the trembling in his left hand – when she returns, laptop in hand. She rejects his offer of a drink and asks for his wifi password. She may not look much like her brother, but they are both very much straight to the point.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me or do you actually have work to do?" She asks, not tearing her eyes away from her screen.

"I was considering, lass, that I don't even know your name yet."

"It's Emma," she replies distractedly, "Emma Swan."

He notes the different surname but doesn't remark on it, wondering how much he'll be able to learn, "And what are you in town for?"

Emma's eyes flick over to him in annoyance but he merely arches a brow, "Some guy decided to jump bail and hide here, giving me the chance to visit my family."

"You're a bail bondsman," he says with awe, and a little lust – the fact she could likely take him down is a massive turn on and probably is some sort of indicator as to why he's single.

"Bailbondsperson," she corrects firmly. Killian swears he falls for her right there and then.

* * *

She drifts in and out of the apartment – Killian having lent her his spare keys – and he watches her progress with interest. When she's there, the apartment almost seems too small, like Emma brings an energy with her that cannot be contained by the space. When she's out and about, hunting down a crook, it's almost too quiet and Killian has to blast his music to find any peace.

But he slowly picks things up. She likes her first coffee black but it gets sweeter as the day goes on. She usually has a hot cocoa with cinnamon in the evening – much like Mary Margaret, he observes – and she isn't very chatty. She prefers leather jackets and looks absolutely stunning in her red one, it bringing out a faint blush to her cheeks and colour to her lips.

He learns from David that his family fostered her before eventually adopting her and that she was roommates with Mary Margaret for some time – bonding over their use of cinnamon on their cocoa – before introducing David and Mary Margaret.

He's quite sure he's learnt more than she wanted, she certainly has taken steps to resist disclosing anything personal, but she's something of an open book. He can understand pain and loss all too well.

Despite her tough exterior, he knows he intrigues her, or at the very least, she's semi-interested.

It's the third morning when she finally delves into his life, observing him as he stumbles into the kitchen, "So what is it you do anyway?"

"Finally cracked did you, Swan? Ready to learn all the mysteries of my life?" She rolls her eyes and his tone would have been flirtier if he hadn't yawned halfway through, "I'm an engineer, love, for ships specifically. I usually get a little lost in my projects and forget the time."

He reaches for a mug but it drops out of his hand and shatters onto the floor, Killian cursing like the sailor he used to be. Emma's there in an instant, helping him to pick up the pieces, freezing when their hands brush.

She looks up at him, through long lashes, green eyes so much more entrancing up close. A shutter is pulled down over whatever vulnerability she may have showed as she pulls back, forcing a smile, "I hope you didn't like that one."

"I'm used to it by now," he says airily, attempting to hide the bitterness.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" She asks, with a nod to his scarred appendage.

Killian unconsciously cradles his hand closer, phantom pain flaring at the memory.

"Boating accident, it's worse in the mornings," he says shortly, "Now I build them rather than sail them."

She nods and moves to place the shards in the bin, Killian glad that she doesn't pry further nor offer any condolences. If there's one thing he's sure about, it's that he doesn't want Emma Swan's pity.

* * *

They settle into a strange dance around each other after what he dubs 'the incident' and he doesn't know if he's relived or disappointed when she finally catches up with the deadbeat. Her flight leaves tomorrow so she is spending the evening with her family, enjoying time with her nephew before the growth spurts start.

David had invited him along but he had no intention of intruding upon family time, knowing how precious it could be. So instead he mopes in his quiet apartment, plucking random strings on his side guitar.

He perks up too much when he hears the lock in the door – he knows it – and attempts to settle himself down as she wanders into the room.

"How's the family?"

"Good," she says with a slight smile, "Leo's growing up so fast."

Emma toes off her boots and flops on the other end of the couch, "You could have come, you know."

Killian looks up questioningly as she continues, "To David and Mary Margaret's, they missed you."

His gaze goes back to his guitar, strumming his nerves away, "I didn't want to be in the way."

"You wouldn't have been."

Her voice is soft and gentle and he cannot help but look over, returning her small smile.

She edges closer, looking as eager as he's ever seen her, "So, what are you playing?"

"Nothing in particular," he says, starting one of the first tunes he'd learnt. Liam had taught him this one and they'd both end up shouting the lyrics.

"Is that Pokemon?" She asks curiously as Killian freezes, a flush spreading over his cheeks.

"I used to watch that with David," she says with a wistful smile, "I'm actually excited to show it to Leo, although David says he has to be present for it."

"I may have some episodes lying around if you want a childhood flashback," the flush spreads further over his cheeks and he can't actually believe that Killian Jones – typically suave – is inviting an incredibly attractive girl to watch Pokemon with him.

"Get some popcorn and you've got a deal."

Killian couldn't smile any wider.

* * *

When he actually had to go to his workplace, his co-workers had asked him what the matter was and even David was concerned. Mary Margaret simply made him a cocoa and told him not to lose hope.

On the eleventh day without Emma Swan, he gets a message from an unknown number, lazily checking it.

_Jones – it's Emma. I was accepted into the Police Academy and I could use a place to stay. Your room still free?_

He'd never replied faster in his life.

* * *

Killian tosses his phone onto his bed, finding no satisfaction in the soft 'thump'. He resolves to himself that today is the day, no more dancing around the issue – he'll find out whether or not Emma wants to go out with him and David will have to – hopefully – accept that his sister makes her own decisions.

He heard Emma come home some time ago, after another exhausting day of being a rookie. She's seated at the kitchen island sipping at her cocoa, hair loose, uniform rumpled, tiredness etched on her features. He's not sure if she's ever looked so beautiful.

"Swan-" he starts before he's cut off.

"Jones, I've had a long day," she says, "So you can save your innuendoes."

"Actually, Emma," he says with a gulp, "I had planned on disregarding my plethora of innuendos and toning down my oozing charm to simply gauge your interest in dinner."

She stares at him incredulously, spinning on her stool, "Months of flirting and you think the best time to ask me on a date is when I'm tired and smelly from chasing a guy and tackling him into a dumpster?"

Killian notes to ask about that story later and says lamely, "Basically, yes."

Emma sighs, "You can plan it, I need a shower and a nap."

* * *

He ends up taking her to the screening of the new Pokemon movie, something she tells him is adorable despite the screaming children. The new series is nothing like they remember and they spend most of their dinner complaining about the changes to their precious childhood show.

More importantly, they laugh and smile and kiss deeper than first date etiquette would dictate.

They convert Emma's room into a study and gym when it becomes obvious she's only using it for clothes storage and Killian keeps the text message saved, thankful for the idiot who actually thought he could outrun Emma Swan.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry again for my lack of updates, I was a couple of thousand words into an AU when I lost interest - but I plan on attempting to finish it. Then I want to write either an Arrow AU or a Thor AU, I haven't decided yet (but I want to get around to both).

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas (or a wonderful day if you don't celebrate),

Adrina Stark.


	5. Cocker Spaniel Owner, Husky Owner

**A/N: **I would like to apologise for my extended absence. I can't promise my updates will be frequent from this point on but I will be making more of an effort and hopefully kicking myself out of my funk. Thank you for everyone who has left reviews, I'm attempting to find time to reply to the new ones. This fic is a Valentines present on Tumblr but I hope you all have a wonderful day as well.

As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review.

* * *

Emma's foot taps as she glances once again at the clock on the wall, letting out a small sigh. There is a nudge at her foot and she looks down at Buttercup, noting the concern on her face. Well, as much as a dog could have a concerned expression. Emma rolls her eyes and smiles, picking her dog up. She strokes her fluffy Cocker Spaniel ears for a moment, drawing peace from the motion.

"I'm fine, we're not late to pick up Henry yet."

Buttercup barks happily at Henry's name and licks Emma's face, making her laugh. She can remember a time when she was completely opposed to any pet but to this day she's still not sure who does the puppy dogs eyes more effectively, her son or her dog. David should probably be high in those ranks as well, giving her a mournful look and simply suggesting that she look at some of the animals in the shelter he runs. One look at little Buttercup they were both gone.

Emma glances at the clock again and places Buttercup down, walking her over to the Reception desk. Ashley looks up from her desk and gives Emma her best smile, "I know, I'm sorry, Emma, we've had a crazy day. Dr. Fox should be finishing up soon and then you can go straight in."

"Okay," Emma says, deflating, knowing Ashley understands her dilemma better than most, "But I'm going to have to leave to get Henry from school soon."

"No need," Ashley says, nodding behind Emma, "You can go in now."

Emma turns her head and her whole body seems to freeze as she catches sight of the man crossing the small waiting area.

"Sorry for making you wait, lass, I believe you can go in now." His words – beautifully accented words – take some time to register as she does her best to tear her eyes from his entrancing blue ones. And away from his thick hair and scruff that almost begs to be touched. And away from his plaid shirt that seemed more unbuttoned than buttoned and sends a wave of heat down Emma.

He seems amused by her gaze and she shakes herself out it with a terse, 'thanks'.

"Come on, Buttercup," she says a bit brighter, completely avoiding the stranger's eyes and pulling Buttercup away before she gets a little too friendly in greeting his Husky. Her back is ramrod straight as she walks across the waiting room and she can feel blue eyes on her until she closes the door.

* * *

Emma turns another page of her book, enjoying the gentle sunlight. She looks up as Henry laughs again, chasing Buttercup with the boundless energy all children under fourteen seem to have. He lines up the Frisbee and throws it, Buttercup after it in an instant.

Buttercup is in wonderful health according to Marian and Emma was heartened by the news. She had been in their lives so long, Emma wouldn't know how to cope without her and so would always be grateful that she helped bring Henry out of his shell.

She looks down at her book again, not seeing the words, only picturing the stranger in the Vet. Emma considered her fantasies over the last couple of days proof that she might finally be able to try dating again, finally moved past the awkwardness that the whole Walsh situation created. In Emma's defence, attempting to break up with a man who planned on proposing probably didn't have much of a chance of being a pleasant experience in the first place.

Her fix on this one man was simply her mind telling her she was ready to get back into the game, and not some kind of mystical connection, regardless of what Mary Margaret attempts to insist.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," she hears Henry call out and places her book down.

She wanders over to her son, who appears shamefaced next to a dark haired man who is holding their Frisbee and rubbing his head.

"No harm done, lad, I've taken worse hits from my brother."

Emma freezes as she hears the voice and recognises the dog on the end of his lead. She's about to turn around and hide, content to monitor her son from a distance when Henry, as friendly as ever, seals her doom.

"Is your dog any good at Frisbee? Buttercup could use some competition."

The man squats down before Buttercup and holds out his hand, which Buttercup sniffs suspiciously before moving into it.

Traitor, she thinks to herself.

"Buttercup, eh? I think I ran into you the other day. Are your parents around, lad, I'd hate for you to do anything that would get you into trouble."

Henry points at her, "My Mom's right there."

Emma curses and puts her feet into motion, attempting to pretend she didn't have a frozen-almost-panic-attack over the attractive stranger.

"Hi," she says, taking a deep breath, "I hope my son didn't hurt you."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, lass, I've got a thick skull."

"Can he play Frisbee with us, Mom? We hardly ever play it with other people," Henry pleads, and there go those damn puppy eyes again.

She rolls her eyes and rubs his head, "Fine, just be careful where you're aiming, kid."

Emma holds out her out and tells herself she's being friendly and her offer of a handshake is not to learn what his hand feels like, "Emma Swan, you've met my son Henry and our dog Buttercup."

His hand is warm and calloused and touching him was a massive mistake.

"Killian Jones, and this is – believe it or not – Westley."

"You're kidding," she smiles and glances over his dog, a gorgeous husky with blue eyes much like his owner.

"I am a man of action," he quips, "Lies do not become me."

Emma can't stop her eyes from rolling, something that will probably give her some form of brain damage if she don't stop soon, but the effect is lessened by the carefree laugh that escapes her lips.

"Mom, are we going to play or do you two want to hold hands the entire time?"

Emma drops his hand but can't stop the blush that spreads across her cheeks, feeling slightly mollified by the fact he seems to be blushing as well and awkwardly scratches his ear.

This is bad, she thinks, awkwardly cute and attractive were a dangerous combination.

"Too right, lad," Killian says, clearing his throat, "Let's see if your little Buttercup can keep up with Westley."

Killian moves to an open space and Henry follows, Emma frowning over the considering look in her son's eyes. It was one he's had since birth and screams mischief and mayhem and Emma doesn't like where it may lead him.

* * *

Henry has a ball, laughing and weaving between the dogs and even he's tired by the time they're finished. He's currently collapsed onto the grass, engaged in some odd wrestling match with Westley and Buttercup. Or their cuddling, she can't really tell.

"That's quite the arm you have there, lass, I'd hate to be on the other end of it."

Emma quashes the warmth she feels at the compliment with a careless shrug, "It's all a part of the job."

"You punch people in the face for a living?"

Her eyes are firmly on Henry but she can feel his gaze and the pleasant sensations it brings.

"You'd be surprised, I'm a Bailbondsperson."

"Bloody hell," he whistles, "I'd love to see you in action."

She was only telling herself earlier that she's ready to date again but this feels like too much. She's scared of what she sees in those eyes but still, she's turning, a challenge in her eyes.

"Please, you couldn't handle it."

The way he licks his lips is obscene as he steps into her space and she unconsciously sways closer. She's waiting for his response when there is barking at her feet, demanding her attention.

"I think Buttercup's hungry, Mom," Henry says as he walks over.

"Of course," she replies quickly, shutting down any feelings of disappointment, "We should get going."

She quickly gathers her things as Henry says goodbye to Westley. He gathers Buttercup's lead once he sees that she's ready.

"Bye Killian," he says, "Today was fun."

"That it was, lad, look after yourself."

Emma doesn't say goodbye, merely wraps her arm around her son's shoulders and tries to still her racing heart.

* * *

Killian takes Westley for a walk everyone Monday and Wednesday night, as well as Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon. She knows this – not because she is a stalker – but because Henry had suddenly decided he wanted to spend all of his free time in the park and not with his Xbox.

Emma had known for some time that her son was an evil genius, often finding it hilarious when he implements his little 'operations' on her friends. The humour she felt was less when the operation was aimed towards her.

She vaguely wonders what he dubbed it, an animal name like usual, 'Operation: Dog' or something more to the point like 'Operation: Hook-Mom-up-with-attractive-dog-owner'. Henry calls out to Killian with the right amount of surprise lacing his tone. Like they haven't been playing this game for the last two weeks and Henry didn't spend the last five minutes checking his watch because he knows Killian comes at a set time.

Emma pleads off their game of catch today, she had a particularly quick runner the day before and is still fatigued from the chase as well as her poorly executed tackle.

She is enjoying the afternoon sunlight when she senses a presence next to her, the tingling on her body altering her to their identity.

"Alright there, love?" He asks, and if there's one thing she's learnt over the past two weeks, it's that Killian Jones is too damn perceptive for his own good.

"Some guy thought he could outrun me yesterday and I proved him wrong. No big deal."

"Tough lass," he says and when she looks over she is caught by the open admiration in his eyes.

"Hey Mom," Henry says cheerfully, breaking the moment, "Can we have Killian over for dinner? He probably gets really hungry after all this running I make him do."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-" Killian starts.

"We don't want to impose-" Emma says over the top of him.

They both flush as Emma smiles, deciding to take a chance, "That sounds like a wonderful idea, if you're free, you and Westley are welcome to join."

His smile is probably bright enough to light a city, "As you wish."

* * *

The pizza – of course Henry wanted pizza – was delicious and Killian was an excellent dinner companion. He was sweet and charming and had a million funny stories about his adjustment to American life.

She had to give her son points when he claimed to have been cleaning up the lounge and just happened to find their copy of _The Princess Bride_, and wouldn't it be fun to watch it with their dogs? Even if she could buy the story that her son did any cleaning without complaint, his too-innocent expression made her roll her eyes while admiring his deviousness at the same time.

Emma hears a quiet snore during the movie and turns to see Henry, resting on Killian's arm. The sight brings a dull ache to her chest, a wish that she could have given Henry everything he deserved.

"I think the little lad tired himself out today," Killian whispers.

"That's too bad," she replies, "He loves the R.O.U.S."

She shifts over to Henry and shakes him gently, "Henry, wake up. Let's get you to bed."

"Not tired," he mumbles and curls into Killian's side.

"I can drop him in his room if you like," Killian offers.

Emma's taken aback but smiles gratefully, "Thanks, I'll show you the way."

Killian gently picks Henry up, grunting at the weight, "I would have thought he was light as a feather with all that running about he does."

Emma snorts, "He makes it back up in pizza."

He places Henry on his bed and Emma tucks him in, sneaking in a goodnight kiss. Henry sighs in his sleep and rolls over, snuggling further under the covers.

"Do you want to finish it?" Emma asks as they walk from Henry's room.

"If you feel up for it, I'm quite a fan of the R.O.U.S. as well."

Emma simply laughs and looks at their dogs curled together on the floor, "Looks like Henry's not the only one who tired himself out."

Without Henry as a barrier, Emma cannot concentrate on the rest of the movie, feeling the heat emanating from Killian's body. He's rolled up his sleeves today, leaving his forearm's bare and not helping with Emma's control.

She comes back to herself when she notices the credits roll and moves to turn the TV off.

"Thank you, love," Killian says, "I had a wonderful evening."

"I'm glad, I did too."

"I was wondering," he starts haltingly, and she turns to catch him scratching his ear, "I wanted to ask if you wanted to do this again. Dinner, I mean. And as much as I enjoy the lad's company, we might be able to have a quiet evening?"

She smiles at his stumbling and pretends to frown, "What exactly are you asking, Killian Jones?"

His gaze becomes intense as he asks seriously, "Emma Swan, will you go out with me?"

Her lips turn up as her eyes drop to his lips, his copying the motion. They lean forward together, lips touching softly before she pushes it further, deeper. It builds quickly – weeks of tension finally spilling over – as she threads her hand through his thick hair. Their awkward position on the couch is probably the main reason they slow their kiss, gently resting their foreheads together.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He asks huskily and Emma shivers, nobody should have a voice like that.

"Definitely yes."

* * *

Henry simply rolls his eyes when she tells him she has a date and says he's already talked to Mary Margaret and David about spending some evenings with them. He goes back to patting Buttercup, muttering something about stubborn and oblivious mothers, Buttercup barking in agreement.

Emma laughs and walks into her room, perusing for date wear. If this works out, she thinks, she'll have to buy Buttercup the biggest dog treat ever and probably that game Henry wanted for good measure. As she picks out her coral dress, she finds she doesn't mind.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you liked it! Hopefully more will be coming along soon.

Enjoy your day,

Adrina Stark.


	6. One Half, The Other

**A/N: **This is angsty and contains spoilers for the finale. Approach with caution.

Based off this post: _soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it's their last words you ever hear them say so you don't know who your soulmate is until you lose them._

As always, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review.

* * *

Even though Emma believes in magic, she can't bring herself to believe in soulmates. Or maybe she doesn't want to, if the only way to know for sure is to lose them. She hasn't quiet decided if she wants that one little word spoken, to get it over with so she could begin to heal and move on – however one manages to move on from an apparent soulmate – or if she simply never wants to her it.

(When she doesn't lie to herself, she's secretly relived that the words 'thank you' or 'promise me you'll both be happy' aren't tattooed onto her skin because it still means she has a chance for something epic, something that's apparently born into her very DNA.)

Back when she didn't believe and Mary Margaret was just a friend, they had laughed over their marks. Emma liked to pretend she was a cynic so she was always ready to dismiss the idea that the love of her life had already been chosen and Mary Margaret was starting to lose hope, so cracking a bottle of wine and laughing over their apparent fates seemed like the thing to do.

She had traced over the elegant script on Mary Margaret's shoulder blade, smiling over the 'I will always find you' and how Mary Margaret couldn't even find it without a mirror.

(They didn't laugh again after the curse broke, especially after Emma saw her father's matching 'And I you' on his chest, just below where he took Snow White's arrow. In that moment, she fiercely wanted some kind of clue, some trademark phrase before the end.)

When she gives it more consideration, she wants to selfish choice, to be the one who leaves and says the words first. In her quieter moments, she thinks it will probably be the case and a part of her feels relived. She traces her own name over her ribs and wonders if great love is worth great tragedy.

She usually then snorts and pulls her shirt back on, forcing herself back into real life.

Killian traces over the letters with such delicacy, shivers going through her body. It usually ends with him having a cheeky grin on his face, finding her ticklish spots or the wicked grin breaks out, sending heat throughout her body.

On rare occasions, he studies the word soberly, almost committing the delicate flourishes to memory. She would laugh or brush it off, if she didn't do the same with his plain, 'you were mine', written over his heart. His hand always seems to cover the word when he holds her, she doesn't know if he's claiming it or trying to shield her from ever hearing it. In the end, the reason doesn't matter because whenever his hand finds that spot, her heart skips a beat and it never matters who her soulmate is, because she has Killian and that's all she wants. It's enough.

* * *

Magic is rushing all around them and Emma can see the despair written on everyone's faces, the hopelessness. She feels it rise in her own chest before she quickly quashes it with thoughts of her son and his constant belief in heroes. Regina is down and her parents appear to be saying what they think is their last goodbyes.

She thinks of the little words they have tattooed and refuses to let this moment be the one they are uttered.

Killian's hand is still warm in her own and she squeezes, hoping for some burst of inspiration to stop the dark magic from destroying everything they care for. Her eyes are starting to burn from the magic but she can't allow herself to blink or stop searching for some kind of solution.

Then she spots it.

The dagger is lying on the street, cast to the side like it's just another piece of trash. Like it isn't the source of all this chaos.

The dagger is their salvation, it has to be and she is so focused on this idea she barely notices when her hand leaves Killian's or when he calls out after her. It's cold in her grip, the darkness in it making her whole body feel cold.

But as she realises what she must do, she thinks that it might not be the darkness in the blade making her cold, but the approaching sensation of her own death.

She looks up, eyes locking with Killian and he cries out when he reads the truth in her eyes.

"No! Emma, please!" He calls, anguish in every word.

Her legs are moving and he's meeting her halfway, hand cupping her cheek. She leans into his touch, heart beating too fast in her chest.

"We'll find another way," he says desperately, "We can do this together."

Her eyes are burning but she cannot blame this on wayward magic and tries to keep the tears at bay.

"There is no other way," she says brokenly, "You know that, Killian."

He's muttering, pleading but she needs him to look at her, she needs him to know. She covers his hand with her own and pulls it onto her heart. She doesn't know if the words where somehow always meant to be said or if she wants to simply claim him but she doesn't care, she just wants him to know.

"You know that thing you said about your happy ending?" She chokes out, focusing on his eyes of endless blue, "You were mine."

She pushes her forehead to his, not wanting anything more than to stay with him, to end his broken sobs and pleading.

Everything else is stuck in her throat and she has to pull away before she no longer has the strength to. He resists and she pushes a little magic into her hand, forcing him to drop it. She steps away, magic holding him still.

She notices absently that Regina seems to have regained consciousness and that her parents are calling for her but her eyes never leave his. Not even as she thrusts the dagger above her head and begins to guide all of her magic, her lifeforce, into the blade.

The light erupts around her and she thinks of her son, safely hidden with her brother. If love is truly a powerful force, she hopes he can feel her love for him, hope that one day he will understand. The light fills her every pore and the last thing she sees if the blue of his eyes and his mouth opening desperately, shouting one word she hears as clear as day.

"Emma!"

As Emma vanishes into nothing, she smiles.

_It was enough._

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, sorry, sorry. My bad.


	7. Bailbondsperson, Sailing Instructor

**A/N: **Secret Santa present from Tumblr - some lines are taken from the show and are not the intellectual property of yours truly.

* * *

Emma Swan was jealous by nurture rather than nature, when you begin your life with next to nothing, you tend to be a bit possessive of what you do have. Especially when it comes to people.

It used to be considered cute, when Emma was younger and she'd finally accepted the fact that Ingrid wanted to keep her, that she wouldn't again be sent back to be alone (she'd always be an orphan, in her heart of hearts, but an orphan with a family is her dream come true). So when Ingrid's family moved over from Norway, she barely left them alone in the room with Ingrid for the first couple of months, irrationally fearful that they would somehow steal her away. Or that Ingrid would decide she'd rather have her nieces (Emma's adoptive cousins? She never figured out if that was a real thing) rather than Emma if she left her sights for too long (Ingrid was hers, Emma often thought to herself, her hot cocoa was always a little cold and she always wanted to go ice skating but she wanted Emma so she wasn't going down without a fight).

It was after another Harry Potter viewing that Ingrid sat Emma down, with a gentle (but cold) touch to her Emma and a soft 'oh duckling' to explain that while she loved her nieces and her sister, they could never replace Emma, and if she let them in, Emma might find that there were more people in the world who were willing to love her.

Learning from her experiences, she tries to control her jealously with Elsa. She's never had any friends before and so doesn't have much experience with friend-jealously (and that time where it was a bit more than friend jealousy) but she's forever grateful that Elsa is not as sociable or extroverted as her sister so Emma is hardly ever in the position where the feelings rise up. It's easier when her friendship circle grows, to have more people, Elsa is her best friend but she's often glad, sitting back with her drink, atmosphere warm and laughter echoing, that she decided to take her adoptive mother's advice.

Her jealously concerning Henry is irrational, uncontrollable and in Emma's mind, perfectly understandable. She is still mercilessly teased by her family by the fact that when Henry first pointed to the series and uttered 'Har-ry' as his first word, she hid them out of sight for three months. She shrugs it off and laughs, doing her best to bury her impulsive urges. She loves her family and they love her, she is finally in a place where she can accept that.

Then Killian Jones comes along and ruins it all.

She can blame their meeting on so many people, but Henry is the main perpetrator. His school is much fancier than Emma should be able to afford, but she works extra shifts and has Henry's scholarship ("this school has the best creative writing course, Mom, if I can get, can I go?") and sometimes accepts extra help from Ingrid ("I love my grandson, duckling, let me do this"). And with fancy schools, come fancy clubs.

Ruby was all for outdoor skills, Mulan for martial arts, Mary Margaret for archery, David for horse riding and Elsa for ice skating and with all the suggestions Henry was receiving, he decided to literally pull a club out of a hat.

Thus lead Henry to sailing and Emma to his instructor, one annoying, understanding and unfortunately, handsome, Killian Jones.

Her son came home each week, smelling of sea salt and full of exciting stories about his lessons. Conversations now had references to things Killian said or was said to have done. It was different and new but Emma was glad Henry had someone else in his life to look up to.

The sea breeze was chilly on the first day Emma had manages to pick up Henry after his lessons, Elsa, Anna or Ingrid had managed to grab him so far but Emma wanted some quality time with her son today, hence her rushing and ignoring the pain on the palm of her hand.

She scanned the boats - ships? - looking for her son and found a familiar mop of hair on one called 'The Jolly Roger'. Henry breaks out into a grin when he notices her and calls out, waving excitedly.

"Hey Mom," he says, smile still fixed on his face when she reaches him, "I was just helping Killian pack up."

"That's a good lad you've got there," an accented voice to her left says, "Would make an excellent crew member."

Emma isn't exactly fond of being a honey trap, but it works because she can keep her true emotions down for a short period and most of her marks are too busy looking anywhere but her eyes. Even still, it takes all of her experience not to ogle Killian Jones, especially with his tight jeans, stubble and blue Henley that makes his eyes pop. Going by the slight smirk on his features, her disguise isn't as good as she thought or Killian just makes more eye contact than she's used to.

"Killian Jones", he says, holding out his right hand, she notices his left one is in a leather glove but doesn't know enough about sailing to know if that has a purpose or if it's for another reason, "I've had the pleasure of being Henry's sailing instructor this semester."

"Emma Swan," she replies, instinct driving her to raise her own hand, forgetting her injury.

His smile fades when he notices her hand, "You're bleeding."

Henry is by her side in an instant, "Are you okay, Mom?"

She waves off their concern, retracting her hand, "It's fine, I just had a bit of a scuffle with a mark and I was late so I'll just bandage it when we get back to the Bug."

"Nonsense, we have supplies here," Killian turns to Henry, "Lad, would you mind going to grab our First Aid kit?"

Henry nods and walks off, leaving Killian to guide Emma to a seat.

"Gentleman sailor?" She asks with a raised brow.

Killian's smirk is back in full force, "You might bleed all over my ship. And I'm always a gentleman."

"Here we go, Killian," Henry says, returning without Emma noticing and she decides to fix her sights on the ocean rather than her son's knowing gaze.

A stinging sensation in her palm quickly draws her attention back, "Ow, what the hell is that?"

"Antiseptic," Killian replies, "Rum would have worked just as well but I'm trying to be child-friendly."

A small smile plays at her lips as Killian digs through the First Aid kit, pulling out a bandage before passing it back to Henry, "Would you be able to run that back for me, lad?"

Henry nods and takes off, at a much slower pace this time, Emma notes.

Killian's left hand brushes her as he prepares the bandage and he pulls it away as he notices her jump, surprised by the stiffness.

"I'm sorry-" they said at the same time, Emma cutting in first, gently, "I was just surprised, I don't have any issue."

"So how did you get this injury, if I may ask?" Killian asks as he wraps her hand, an obvious distraction but she allows it with a slight shrug.

"A bail jumper thought he could get away and did for a time, pushed me down onto some idiotic idea of a plant. I got him in the end though," she ends smugly, "And not gently."

"Tough lass," he says, admiration lacing his tone, not matching the playful look in his eye as he uses his mouth to pull the bandage tight. For a moment, Emma feels as though she cannot breath, locked in his gaze but he pulls away and she quickly stands, moving closer to the dock to be ready for Henry.

Her son seems disappointed to see the distance between the two of them and she resists the urge to roll her eyes at his meddling. He goes to thank Killian for his lesson with no prompting from her – Elsa and Ingrid were great helpers in helping him learn his manners – and Killian looks to her with a smile.

"It's been a pleasure, Swan, I hope your hand heals well."

She cradles it to her chest and remembers her own manners, "Thank you for the first aid, Jones," she says, not quite meeting his eyes, "And for taking such good care of Henry."

She manages not to turn back as she walks down the docks and slings her good arm around Henry's shoulders, "So, what do you feel like kid, pizza or burgers?"

"How is that even a question?" He scoffs, making Emma smile.

"Pizza it is, then."

* * *

Without any real decision on her part, Killian Jones becomes a part of a pattern. After every sailing lesson, she picks Henry up and they go for a walk along the docks, Emma hearing all about Henry's day over pizza – her relating her child friendly work stories – and ending with a video game session that usually ends in Emma losing.

Before they can get to the mother-son bonding, Henry usually has plans of his own.

"What do you think the lad's forgotten this time? His notebook? Pencil rolled under a chair?"

"A decent excuse," Emma mutters and Killian chuckles.

"Well, I can't say I mind all that much," Killian says joyfully, "I do like a woman in leather."

Emma smiles and shakes her head, weeks of banter still leaving her unprepared for how forward he can be while still not pushing.

"Will you be attending the school's Christmas party?" He asks suddenly, the tips of his ears suddenly red.

"Yeah," Emma says nonchalantly, staring across the ocean, "I'm one of Henry's class reps. I know some of the parents had issues with the fact Henry got in on a scholarship so I decided to make sure they didn't forget it."

"I'm sorry that's happening to you, Emma, and Henry," he says with a frown, unconsciously cradling his wooden hand.

A hot rage spills over Emma, "They don't give you shit over your hand, do they?"

His laugh is bitter, "Nothing I can't deal with, love," before she can respond he nods over her shoulder, "There's your boy at last, I imagine I will see you tomorrow night, Swan."

"That you will, Jones," she allows herself a small smile, "You won't be prepared for what's coming."

She hears his reply, a whisper as she leaves the ship, "I never am."

* * *

Emma is already regretting her heels. The pink dress seemed like a great idea a couple of hours ago, after one of the other class reps had sent her a reminder to do something that wasn't even supposed to be one of Emma's jobs and well, sometimes Emma wanted to rub it in their rich and obnoxious faces that one of the perks of getting pregnant at seventeen is that she still cuts a good figure.

And maybe she wants to see Killian's jaw drop.

But right now, Emma's feet hurt and Pam has just made eye contact and attached a fake smile to her face.

"Emma, how good to see you," she says brightly, weirdly bending to kiss Emma's cheeks, "I hope you got my email from before, being a class rep is so hard for those who lack experience."

Emma grits her teeth and smiles, "Not to worry, Pam, I think I'm gaining experience just fine."

"Well, yes, of course you are, dear," Pam continues patronisingly before lowering her voice, "But I just wanted to give you a warning."

"A warning?" Emma echoes sceptically, "About?"

"Killian Jones," Emma sucks in a breath and is ready to respond when Pam steamrolls her, "I've heard from the other parents that you've been staying later while picking dear Henry up and I wouldn't want anyone to think anything untoward was happening. Just think of your reputation! I know he already has one from another school, apparently got involved with another one of the mother's and now she's divorced."

Pam goes to take a breath and Emma cuts in quickly, "If you'll excuse me, I haven't greeted the Headmistress yet."

Emma leaves Pam tutting behind her and goes to greet Guinevere and her husband, some of her annoyance leaving her.

"Emma," Guinevere says happily, giving her a quick hug, "How are you? We haven't had a chance to catch up recently."

"I think we've both been swamped," Emma says with a smile and accepts a hug from Lancelot as well, "And is work keeping you busy, Lance?"

"Never ending," he says, dimples out in full force, "How are Mary Margaret and David? I haven't had time to see them since Leo was born."

"Wonderful," Emma sighs, fishing out her phone to show them pictures, "Henry loves playing with the baby, he's actually there tonight."

Guinevere and Lancelot make the appropriate cooing noises over the pictures and Emma is actually starting to enjoy the party. She makes idle plans to find Killian while talking with Henry's English teacher, Merlin – not that she's noticed his absence.

Of course, her mood sours and that terrible beast of jealously rears its ugly head after so many years of keeping in check when she hears Pam's laugh and she throws her hand on Killian's chest in an obvious gesture. Going by Killian's expression, he likes obvious.

Emma makes her excuses and steps outside, breathing in the crisp air. She wonders if she can leave without it seeming odd, she's done her schmoozing as class rep and met up with most of the people she cares about.

She's musing her options, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms when a jacket is suddenly draped over her shoulders.

"As much as I do like you in that dress, Swan, I don't think it will be as flattering when you're frozen solid."

Emma turns to face Killian and the twinkle in his eye dies. She's suddenly tired, tired of the way she reacts, tired of things not working out the way she wants, tired of hoping.

"What do you want, Jones?" She asks brusquely.

"Whatever you want to give," he says, all sincerity and suddenly she cannot handle it.

"Why don't you go give it to Pam then," she snaps, moving to walk away.

He reaches out to grab her arm, lightly so she could still pull away, always giving her the choice.

"I promise you, Emma, that if you stayed a moment longer, you would have seen me reject Pam's advances. Then I would have walked charmingly over to you, used some form of witticism on you, invited you to dance and then accidentally guided you to the mistletoe."

She can't help but smile at that, "You had it all planned out, huh?"

"Until you went and ruined it," he grumbles, smiling all the same and offers his arm, "Let's say I've walked charmingly over and used a witticism, would you like a dance?"

Emma pauses, "I was warned away from you, you know? Said I might gain a certain reputation, like the one you have."

Killian retracts his arm and scratches at his ear awkwardly, "You've heard that, have you? I did get involved with a married woman but that ended a very long time ago, she's happy now, got a good settlement from her husband once she exposed his wrongdoings, has full custody of her son, was travelling the world with him last time I heard."

Wonder of wonders, Emma feels no jealously at his tale and can only smile as she links her elbow with his.

"Good thing I've never cared about my reputation," she says lightly as they walk back inside, "How much longer until Henry can change his club? I think we should get dinner sometime."

"Not soon enough."

* * *

Henry grumbles as he looks over his club choices for the next semester, having already banned any adult from having an opinion.

"I liked sailing," he whines.

"I will take you sailing whenever you want, lad, but it's a bit of a conflict of interest having you in my class now," Killian says soothingly, "Now, if you want an interesting class-"

"No, that's a suggestion," Henry says quickly from his place on the floor.

Killian settles back on the sofa with a huff, Emma tucked into his side, "Teenagers," he mutters.

Emma snorts into her book and relaxes as he kisses the top of her head.

"I suppose we do owe the lad some thanks for picking it in the first place."

"It's definitely all Henry's fault," Emma agrees, "But you'll never catch me saying that again."

* * *

**A/N: **I apologise for my extended absence from writing, it's probably 90% my own laziness and 10% due to work and then moving home. I have a lot of half finished stories I hope to upload soon so thank you for bearing with me.

Be well,

Adrina Stark.


End file.
