Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Go home, Hook."

That was the single sentence running through Killian's head as he left the bar 10 minutes passed closing. He'd been in the bar pretty much nonstop the past two days, in a bloody dreadful mood. It was a miracle that the cops or the Charmings hadn't been called to sort him out yet. Maybe the bar staff felt sorry for the sorry excuse for a pirate. It was no secret to anyone in this curse-id town that he, Regina, and the Charmings weren't on the best terms at the moment. 

In fact, most people had started to treat him just as bad as before. Not that he cared. And even if he did care—which he didn't—, he definitely deserved the treatment. That was the least he deserved for not telling anyone about the curse on his lips and for trying to ship Henry off to New York. Who cared if he was trying to save the lad? He was just a pirate after all. 

"We never should have trusted you!"

"How could you?"

"How am I supposed to trust you when you lied to me?" 

"You're nothing but a filthy pirate!"

Killian swayed as he made his way back to Granny's, not caring if anyone saw him or not. It's not like anyone cared, right? In fact, everyone had made their feelings toward him very clear. It was no secret that he wasn't wanted. He hadn't been wanted in a very long time. Unwanted tears prickled in the pirate captain's eyes as he continued the long track back to the diner. It was so far away. 

"Go home, Hook."

"Go home, pirate."

"Go home, Jones."

"Go home, Captain."

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

Home.

What was home? Was it a house, a trailer, an apartment, a car, or a ship? Was it a stable or a room at an inn? Or was it a person? Killian didn't know. He had asked himself this question many times before, mainly when he was left alone. Ignored. Discarded by those he cared about—just like always.

The alcohol hardly drowned out these thoughts for him anymore. If anything, it only made them stronger nowadays. Now that he was trying to change. Why couldn't anyone see that he was trying? Why must every attempt of his be ignored, brushed off, or discarded? Gold and Regina were hardly trying but he hardly saw anyone giving them a hard time when they were here. What made him different?

"Just a filthy pirate."

"She'll never like you."

"What? a one handed pirate with a drinking problem?"

Killian couldn't help but wonder why he even tried anymore as he stumbled through the night. Nothing he did ever made a difference. He had never made a difference—nothing he had ever done had ever mattered. Not even when he was a child. All he ever did was make a mess of everything. Gold, David, Emma, Belle, Regina, Silver, His father... They had all been right. 

He was nothing but a one handed pirate with a drinking problem who made a mess of everything. He had ruined his own life, alienated everyone he cared about with his own choices. He had no one to blame for his shitty and lonely life but himself. He was the problem. He was the reason everyone always left. He was the reason he couldn't have a family—the reason he didn't  have a home.

"Who could ever love a one handed pirate with a drinking problem?"

"Liam would be gone by now if it wasn't for you! He could be making something of his life but he isn't because of you! You're holding him back!"

"Liam, Jasper, and Milah would still be alive if it wasn't for you."

"Thomas, Angelina, Nathaniel, your mother... each and everyone of them would still be here if it wasn't for you."

"You're cursed."

"Hook can't be trusted, Emma. I would know."

Oh how he wanted a home. All Killian had ever wanted was a place to call home. A place where he could lay his head, hang his coat, and pretend like everything was alright for the night. A place where he felt safe and warm. A place that replicated what he had felt as a child, back before his father had left. Back before his mother died. God, had he really not had a home since he was three? He had never been safe, not once in his life, but he had felt at home there. At least, he was pretty sure he had. More tears trickled down his face as he walked alone, down the empty road.

He wanted a home, he wanted a family. 

He wanted people who cared about him and about what happened to him. He wanted people who listened to him and didn't just blow up at him for being who he was. For every mistake he made. Killian wanted people who would love and hug him. Who'd drink and laugh, and cry with him. People who'd tell him everything was gonna be okay. People who'd include him in things, invite him or drag him to things. People who'd make him laugh and smile more often.

He wanted a family, a home.

Killian's hand and hook shook at his sides, his stumbling becoming worse.

He wanted to go home.

But he couldn't. He had traded his ship—the closest thing he had to a home— for Emma, a woman who was planning to leave him and everyone else behind as soon as the wicked bitch of the west was delt with. A woman who constantly ignored and brushed him off. What was wrong with him? Why had he done that? Had he made a mistake?

She obviously didn't care for him—even as a friend. So why had he done it? Why had he cared so much? Killian knew the answer to that question and even if he hadn't recalled it, the flashes of memories that assaulted his mind followed by feelings of heartbreak, rejection, and unflinching love reminded him. He leaned against a building—he didn't care enough to see which—and clinched his fists, trying desperately to block the feelings and memories out.

Jessica's soft, plump lips against his. Her fingers in his hair. The oil lamp in the tavern bathroom where she worked flickering. 

"Little brother, where are you?!" Liam called out from somewhere in the tavern, startling the two teenagers out of the trance they'd been in.

 The sixteen year old pulled away, hazel eyes dark as she wiped her lipstick off his face.

"I love you" She panted. 

They were a year apart in age, with him being younger. 

Killian quickly adjusted his naval uniform, making sure to readjust his sleeve so that his brother wouldn't see the tattoo on his wrist.

 The horribly done, barely colored in, heart tattoo with the name 'Jess' in it. Jess with a backwards 'J' and 'E'. A horribly tacky tattoo on his left wrist that a couple of crewmates had taken him to get behind Liam's back. A tattoo Jessica loved and Killian loathed. 

He'd burn it off if Liam wouldn't kill him for doing it , and if it wasn't for the smile and look Jessica had given him when she had seen it. "I love you too" He said, kissing her cheek before sprinting out of the bathroom "coming brother!" 

The Underage part starts here. Skip ahead if you don't want to read it.

Panting.

Skin against skin.

Hands in his hair.

Killian snuggled closer to Lewis. They were in his bed, covers shielding them from the outside world. His head was resting on the older man's bare chest.

 He was 17 and Lewis was 25.

Liam was at the castle for the night, having been called away for a meeting by the guards on the king's request. Killian hadn't been allowed to go. It had been six months since Jessica had broken up with him— since she had said she just wanted to be friends.

 That they just didn't work together like that—that they wanted different things. He hadn't seen her since. He missed her— she'd been his friend, the only other person out of Silver's servants to survive their time there. And now she was gone, off without a note or a word. It still hurt to think about her. 

Lewis wiped away a stray tear that had forced it's self past Killian's eyes and down his cheek. He kissed the top of his head, that happened to rest against his chest. His hand rubbing soothing circles into his back "Don't think about her. You have me now" his voice was deep and soothing. 

"I know, but I miss her" Killian sniffled quietly.

"Don't. You missing her is only hurting you worse" Lewis scolded, gripping Killian's hair tightly. 

Killian winced and forced a smile "okay, okay. I won't "

The Underage part ends here:

He was 21.

Milah was 30.

They laid on the deck of The Jolly Roger, staring up at the night sky. Hand in hand, cool air tickling their skin. Fire flys and stars lighting up the night sky as waves rocked gently rocked the ship and their crew laughed drunkenly from below deck.

 "It's so beautiful" Milah breathed out, amazed. Killian loved the sound of her voice—it made his heart race. Made him forget about the holes that Jessica, Thomas, his mother, Lewis, Nathaniel, and Liam had left behind in his heart. Filled the empty void in his life.

 Killian chuckled, staring up at the Cygnus constellation. "Aye, it is. I use to do this with my mother and brother." He could hear Milah sitting up as she turned to stare at him "you did?" 

"Aye. Stargazing was one of her favorite things to do if I recall correctly." Killian smiled sadly at the sky. The Cygnus had been her favorite constellation.

"Do you miss her?" Milah asked, curiously.

"With everywhere breath I take." Neither said anything else that night. 

Killian looked down at Neverland, laughing nervously as Zarina flew through the air—holding onto him tight. He was 27 and once again in love, though his heart still ached for his previous loves. 

He had tried again with Lewis and Jessica, only to have his heart broken by them once again. It had been 189 years since Milah's death, 189 years since Lewis took advantage of his grief for Liam and Milah, 120 since he had lost Jessica— though he didn't know it.

 "Oh come on, Hookie, don't be so nervous! I'm not gonna drop ya!" Zarina laughed teasingly.

"I know that!" Killian snapped, turning red.

The Auburn haired fairy laughed, swinging him slightly. Hands on his hips. His heart raced.

"Do you?" She teased, her breath tickling his ear. 

"Zarina, stop it!" Killian snapped once again, turning green.

"I'm just teasing ya." she huffed, slowing her pace and dropping him down closer to the ground

"It wasn't funny." he said, still pale but a bit pink at the same time. He always got terribly airsick. 

"It was too. You just don't think it is, but I'm sure your crew would agree with me." Zarina replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Killian said, jumping to his feet. 

Killian quickly shook his head, trying to free himself of those thoughts. He shouldn't think about them. It would only hurt him in the end. Remind him of all the times he had nearly had a home and a family, only for it to be cruelly ripped away from him. 

He didn't need to be reminded of that yet again. 

He was already reminded of it wherever he went, every hour of the day, the longer he was in this town. 

Everytime he saw Emma with Snow.

Everytime he saw Snow and David together. 

Everytime he saw Neal, Emma, or Regina with Henry or Robin with Roland. 

Everytime he saw Snow in her current condition. 

Everytime he saw a pair of siblings together. 

It killed Killian just being in the same room with any of them, especially when they ignored him. Everytime they left him behind and forgot about him. It stung. More than he'd care to admit.

 Killian never said anything, of course. He didn't want their pity and he didn't want to be known as the miserable bloke who was jealous of everyone. So he kept his mouth shut and drowned out the memories of those long since passed. Of his homes. The only places he had ever belonged. 

Killian took a deep, shaky breath before pulling away from the wall: Suddenly deciding that returning to Granny's didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. 

He was so tired and it seemed so far away, not to mention the dirty looks he'd get from the patrons who were still in. Returning to his temporary home didn't seem really worth it. 

Especially since Emma was there, just a few doors down with her boy. Close enough he could hear her pass his door, hear the words she said. 

He'd been particularly nonexistent to the world for the past two days—not helping with the wicked bitch of the west or the monkeys. Not talking to anyone. He could return and be met with an angry Regina and even angrier Charmings and that just didn't seem worth it either.

 Not when he was this drunk—not when his doubts and insecurities were bubbling up inside of him alongside his demons. Not when he was close to breaking down or losing his temper.

No. It wasn't worth it at all. Killian needed to be alone for just a bit longer, to be his true self. To be able to cry in peace, without the prying ears of Ruby and Granny present. 

He needed time to clear his head and swallow all his pain, heartbreak, jealousy, and anger. The last thing he needed to do was make everything worse by blowing up at everyone and making them feel just as bad as he did. That wouldn't be fair. 

Swallowing heavily, Killian steadied himself and turned around, making his way to the woods. He'd just stay there until someone found or needed him, which would probably take weeks or months. He wasn't as important as Emma or the others, so he probably wouldn't be needed for awhile. 

'Awhile? More like NEVER. Who would ever be desperate enough to need me? I'm just a one handed, sorry excuse for a pirate with abandonment issues and a drinking problem. I'm nothing compared to Emma or Regina or Lady Snow or David or Robin. Hell, I'm nothing compared to pretty much everyone. They won't need me. Not unless they need someone to play bait or sail a ship. They won't need me or even look until they do need me.. '

With that long, drawn out, and extremely self-loathing thought, Killian curled up by a tree— using his jacket as a pillow—and stared up at the night sky. Tears in his eyes, heart feeling empty as his mind was once assaulted by memories of the past and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Killian's slumber wasn't peaceful, but it wasn't fitful either—it was kinda in between, which was funny considering where he fell asleep the night before. Why was his slumber so strained and out of wack, one may ask? Well, it's because his dreams weren't really dreams— they were memories.

Memories that had been tainted by later tragedys and heartbreaks.

He was smaller than the average three year old due to being born premature and sickly, which made it very hard to move around.

 He'd get knocked down by his siblings and cousins constantly when they were running around, playing and not paying attention to their surroundings and it was frustrating.

 It happened very often, since Killian was the youngest of 7 siblings—the closest siblings in age being Liam, who was 10, and Jasper, who was 8—and out of several cousins. 

"Mama!" Killian cried loudly from the bottom of the stairs. His brothers—Liam (age 10) and Gwaine (age 12)—were stood at the top of the stairs, exchanging identical looks of shock and guilt on their faces.

 His mother ran in from the kitchen, her light blue dress and apron flowing as she ran. The sunlight from the window shinning, causing her beautiful glowing locks to glisten as she entered in the room. 

She immediately dashed over and scooped him up in her arms, kissing his forehead and rocking him slightly before looking up at Liam and Gwaine with a stern expression on her face.

 Both boys looked extremely sheepish and ducked their heads as their mother placed her hand on her hip.

"Boys, what did I say about running in the house?" Alice said, shaking her head in exasperation.

 "Not to do it" Both boys said, sagging their shoulders. 

Alice gestured to Killian, who was covered in bruises and scrapes from his fall "There are rules for a reason. You could get hurt or hurt one of your siblings or cousins or one of the pets. You two HAVE to be more careful, okay?" 

The boys looked even more guilty at this.

"Sorry mama" Liam said right as Gwaine said "sorry mum".

 "I'm not the one you two need to apologize to " Alice said, shaking her head and gesturing to Killian who was sniffling and clinging to her.

 "Sorry brother" Liam said, taking the hint. 

"Sorry Killy" Gwaine said, following Liam's lead. 

Killian just sniffled and wiped his nose on his baggy sleeve "it's okay, bubba." 

Their mother just shook her head and waved Liam and Gwaine off "go play. Outside or in your room, no running if you stay in the house." 

Killian continued sniffling, burying his small face in her shoulder.

"Okay mum!" Gwaine said, speed-walking down the stairs followed by Liam who said "yes ma'am" the two of them ran through the front door. 

"What am I gonna do with you lot?" Alice asked, sighing as she kissed a cut on Killian's forehead. 

"I don't know " Killian replied, sucking his thumb.

His mother just laughed in response to his reply, shaking her head as she readjusted him—placing him on her hip. 

"Come on, let's go get you cleaned up, sweetheart " She said, ruffling his hair— causing him to giggle as they walked to the kitchen where she was making lunch. 

Killian tossed and turned in his sleep at the memory, causing him to get poked by a stick, which he immediately swatted away. He somehow didn't wake up from this and the memories continued.

3 year old, Killian waddled into his mama and papa's room shaking.

It was pitch black outside as well as inside and he was scared. 

He clutched his teddy's hand in his as he made his way over to his parents' bed, heart racing. 

He tried to climb up their bed without waking them by using their covers, only to have them slip from his grasp— causing him to plummet to the ground.

 He let out a small, quiet cry that rang through the room— causing his father to wake with a groan. 

Killian cried quietly as his papa sat up, groaning and squinting his eyes. "What—Killian? What are you doing up? It's late" Brennan questioned quietly, doing his best not to wake his wife.

Killian didn't answer—he just continued to cry and hiccup, trying to explain why he was so upset. 

Brennan's face softened "did you have a bad dream?"

Killian nodded, hiccuping loudly before adding "and it's dark. "

Killian had never liked the dark. 

Brennan sighed "come here, buddy."

Sniffling, the 3 year old pushed himself up and waddled over to the bed.

"Papa, it's so dark" Brennan shushed him and plucked the boy up. 

"it's okay. Shh.. it's okay" he kissed Killian's forehead, wiping his tears away with his thumb. 

He placed Killian in between him and Alice, quickly tucking him in and ruffling his hair "go to sleep, lad. You're safe now."

The small child sniffled and nodded, scooting closer to his father and resting his head on his chest. 

Killian teared up at the memory, filling with regret once again in his sleep. He curled into a ball, nearly stabbing himself with his hook. Maybe he shouldn't have killed his father.

Killian was running around, chasing the cat— a small 3, legged black ball of fur with green eyes named peggy— when he tripped and fell, faceplanting.

 "Owwie" He mumbled, rubbing his face. He looked up upon hearing laughter to find his twelve year old brother, Gwaine, laughing as he made his way over to him.

"It's not funny" Killian whined as his big brother picked him up. 

"You're right. It's hilarious " Gwaine chortled, causing Killian to tug on his long hair in retaliation.

 "Ow!" 

Killian giggled.

"why you little—" Gwaine was cut off by their mother, who was in the other room.

"Gwaine Thomas Jones, don't you dare finish that sentence!" 

Gwaine gave his little brother a half-hearted glare before calling out "sorry mother." 

Killian just giggled, amused.

 "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up all you want, ya little mama's boy" Gwaine muttered, setting Killian back down.

 Killian looked proud at that.

  "That was an insult " Gwaine sighed, watching as Killian smiled widely "and don't suck your thumb." 

Killian ignored him on that part.

"But I am a mama's boy. Why wouldn't I be? Mama's g'eat!"

Gwaine just ruffled Killian's hair and walked away, shaking his head— chuckling in amusement at the toddler's logic.

A small, sad smile crossed the sleeping Pirate's features.

He never did find out what had happened to his big brother.

He had taken after Gwaine alot and he missed him almost as much as he did Liam. Though, he did miss him more than Mercutio, who he could hardly remember.

Killian (age 3) glared up at his 2nd eldest sibling, Mercutio, who was 16 and his elder cousin, Romeo, who was 14, displeased and wishing that Mercutio's twin, Valentine, had b een left to watch him instead.

He was not happy with this situation at all. 

The situation being his hands and feet being tied together. 

"What? I thought you wanted to learn a magic trick" Mercutio snickered alongside their very amused looking cousin. 

"I don't like this trick!" Killian replied annoyed, trying to free himself once again. How was once supposed to free themselves from this? Who would do something like this for fun? This wasn't fun at all! 

"Well too bad, because we aren't untying you" Romeo said, snorting as he added "you have to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess since you got yourself into it."

Killian scowled, trying to free himself once again—  only to tip over, causing both boys to laugh.

"Stop it! It's not funny! Let me go or I telling mama!" That only caused the boys to laugh louder.

"How ya gonna tell mama if you can't even untie yourself?" Romeo said, pointing out the flaw in the 3 year old's logic. 

Killian went quiet considering that and then he started to cry "I want mama. I want it off!" 

Mecruito and Romeo winced at his high pitched cry, and shot looks of uncertainty at eachother. 

Just then they heard the front door open, sacks banging against the door and eachother— undoubtedly Alice (Mecruito and Killian's mother) returning with groceries from the market. 

"Killian?" She called out in a concerned tone, shutting the door and setting the sacks down if the sounds where anything to go by.

Mecruito and Romeo paled, looked at eachother, and bolted— leaving a struggling and squirming Killian behind.

"MAMA!" Little Killian cried out devastated, thinking he was gonna be trapped forever because he couldn't get free on his own.

He heard hurried footsteps and then a gasp as his mother entered the room.

"Oh Killian, what happened?" Alice asked, settling down on the floor beside her young son—  getting to work on untying.

"I *hiccup* w-wanted *hiccup* bubba and R-Romeo to t-teach me a *hiccup* magic t-trick" Killian explained, sniffling.

He heard his mother sigh "and let me guess. The magic 'trick' they decided to teach you was escaping from this?"

Killian nodded, still crying "and now I'm gonna *hiccup* be stuck here forever, cause I can't *hiccup* get out!"

Alice shook her head "no you won't. Mama will get you out." 

Killian blinked up at her with teary, hopeful eyes "really?". 

The blonde nodded "Really." 

It took five minutes, but Alice did eventually manage to untie the knots. After that? Well, let's just say there was ALOT of yelling and Romeo had to go home early. 

Killian scrunched up his nose, displeased at the memory.

Romeo and Mecruito always played tricks and used him to pick up chicks, it was annoying. 

Killian was 3 and playing with their black lab, Coral, in the living room when his fourteen year old sister, Cynthia, came in crying. 

He looked up startled "Cynthie?" 

His sister ignored him, going straight to the kitchen were their parents were.

Killian went back to playing for a bit only to be startled once again when he heard his father exclaim "THEY DID WHAT?!" from the next room. 

He was quickly shushed which peaked little Killian's curiosity—causing him to quietly move forward and lean against the door with baited breath. He stood on his tippy toes looked through the peep hole. 

"The Cretin boys shoved me in the mud and stole my books, and called me 'witch girl' in the town square and wouldn't give them back. And they beat me" Cynthia repeated, sobbing in their mother's arms.

Both their father and their mother looked furious, and Cynthia looked horrible. Her hair was matted with mud and tangled— she had bald spots.

Her favourite orange dress was torn and covered in muddy boot prints. Her face was caked in bruises and dirt, her eye was swollen, and her nose bloody. She didn't look a thing like her usual pristine, respectable, and calm self and that really bothered Killian. 

Cynthia was always well put together with a holier than thou attitude and she never made a scene. Except for now. And the Certin boys had caused it. 

Suddenly, Killian felt something he had never felt before.

It was an ugly feeling and it was shearing hot— later, Killian would find out that this feeling was called anger but at the time he didn't know what he was called. 

Killian glanced over at his toy sword in the corner and suddenly remembered the stories his grandparents, aunts, and uncles had told him about. It was then an idea hit him—he would get justice for his sister. He would get his sister's books back—no matter what it took. 

The little boy quietly marched over to the toy and grasped it firmly in his hand before making a swift escape through the door which his sister had left open. 

Thirty minutes later:

Little Killian tried to stand up, only to be knocked down again—He was bruised and bloody, and his clothes and hair were matted in mud. 

The 3 cretin boys—who were 14—laughed.

 His sword laid broken in half a few feet away. 

The little boy had gone to the town square and demanded that they duel him, and they had obliged with glee. Beating the tiny toddler relentlessly without remorse and they certainly didn't hold back. 

No one but other children were around. 

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM HIM!" The four teens froze, recognizing the voice. 

Killian weakly lifted his head, trying to hear the voice over the ringing. 

His face lit up slightly when he spotted his 5 brothers and his cousin Romeo storming over before he blacked out. 

He earned a permanent scar on his cheek from that incident but his sister appreciated the attempt at vengeance.

After calling him a little moron of course. 

Killian curled up, making himself smaller as he shivered from the cold. A small, weak smile gracing his features as morning approached. 

Chapter Text

No one had seen Killian in days and the rest of the group was getting worried.

Sure, they had been mad about him keeping secrets from them but they hadn't wanted him to disappear. He was their friend and ally and they were scared for his safety— especially with Zelena out there. 

Yes, they were still mad that he hadn't told them about the curse on his lips and that he had tried to send Henry to New York. But he was still their ally and friend, and they needed to figure out where he was. 

He could be working with her or being tortured by her for being disobedient.

They had to find him and find him soon—before something bad happened to him. Before something that couldn't be undone happened.

The last thing they needed was to lose another person.

So they split up and searched.

Robin and his merrymen searched the woods. 

David and Emma searched the town with the help of the dwarves.

Snow called around, looking for information and Regina searched the docks. 

It took hours and hours to find Killian, and it was eventually Robin who found him. 

And the state Robin found his pirate friend in both broke his heart and horrified him. And it secretly angered him as well, though he'd never admit it.

There, on the ground, curled up under a tree was a pale and disheveled Killian. He was shivering and surrounded by an unhealthy amount of beer bottles.

"Hook?" He called out nervously, but got no response. He hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another until he was just a few feet away from him. 

He halted and choked out a horrified "oh dear God.."

"What? What is it, mate?" Will asked nervous and worried, making a move to step forward—only for Robin to put up the 'halt' hand sign. 

"Stop. Don't come any closer. Go call an ambulance " the older thief instructed, trying to hide the panic he felt.

"Robin, what's going on?" Tuck asked.

"I'll explain later, just go call an ambulance. Now. " 

Knowing better than to argue with their friend and leader, the other two thieves hesitantly retreated—planning on following his orders. 

As soon as he was sure they were gone, he stepped forward once more and kneeled down next to his friend.

He was in a puddle of his own blood, which was still warm thankfully. Killian's arms had several long cuts on it, no doubt from his hook and he was freezing. He must have been in the woods all this time.

"Killian?" He asked worried, checking for a pulse. It was there; weak and thready, but there. 

Killian didn't answer. 

"Shit, no mate. What did you do? Why would you do this to yourself." The englishmen swore, removing his jacket and pressing it to Killian's arms. 

"If you die, I'm going to kill you." he threatened, panicking slightly. He got a low whine in response but that was it. 

Chapter Text

Emma sat by Killian's hospital bed, shaking slightly as she held his hand.

A million thoughts ran through her head but the main one that kept coming back to hit her was 'why?' 

She just couldn't fathom why Hook would do this to himself. Or why nobody had noticed. It just didn't make any sense to her.

Why would anyone, let alone Hook, hurt themselves?

Why would the happy go lucky pirate try to kill himself?

Why hadn't he tried to talk to her or her parents when he started feeling like this?

Didn't he know that they cared about him?

That she cared about him?

Why didn't he tell them how he felt— why didn't he try to?

She got more and more worked up as she thought about it, until she was hit with a sudden realization that made her stomach drop; He probably had tried to tell them. 

She recalled how reckless and self sacrificing he was. How he never seemed to care about his own safety in all the time she had known him

She remembered how nonchalant Killian was when she pointed out that he probably would die trying to fight Gold, and how Greg had described what he had seen the day he hit hook with his car:

'He didn't move at all. It was like he wanted to get hit.'

Emma felt sick as more and more red flags popped up in her memories. 

He had never tried to hide how much he did not care about his life. Had never tried to hide that he had nothing to lose, nothing to live for. Hell, he practically fucking survived off of rum and rum alone. That alone should have come off as a red flag to her and everyone else but it hadn't. 

And they had shunned him for two and half days before he had gone missing despite knowing that he literally had nobody else. They had taken away his only support system without realizing it and now he was in the hospital.

Fighting for the very life he had tried to take away. And if he died, it would be their fault and there would be nobody to blame them or mourn him. Oh God, what had they done?

Emma really hoped that he would survive this and that he would wake up soon so they could talk. 

She didn't know what she would do if he didn't— and she had the oddest feeling that she wasn't the only one who felt that way. 

Chapter Text

The reflection in the tea didn't look right. 

It was such a small, insignificant, silly thing to pay so much attention to especially at such a great event dedicated to him but Killian still couldn't help but notice it. 

He didn't look right . 

His reflection that is. 

His double looked…paler. Sicklier. 

Killian didn't like it. 

Hell, he'd even say he hated it for the level of uncertainty and wariness it sent through him. For the way it made his skin crawl and made everything around him become muffled and in slow motion. 

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from it—away from the reflection, away from the cold dead eyes of his double. Away from the sight that was trying to draw him in—or at the very least, that's how the…oddity… felt. 

It felt wrong. Like the tea was a siren trying to lure him, a sailor, to death. 

It felt like a hint.

But a hint at what ? 

“ —illian?”

His eyes shot up and away from his cup at the familiar voice of his mother, who was giving that worried tight lipped frown she always got when she senses something was amiss. 

She was wearing the beautiful light blue dress he had gotten her for her birthday and her blonde but slowly greying hair was up in a bun with the beautiful golden portal hair clip Liam had gotten her. 

“Killian, are you alright sweetheart? You look peckish.”

His mother seemed to be the only one who noticed something was amiss with him. 

His father was praising Killian’s younger brother— Lip, as the boy preferred—for getting assigned to a crew who rode around in something called a submarine.

Gwaine was telling Cynthia about his strange friends in Camelot as she rolled her eyes with a found smile, using her magic to try and do something. Her husband, Nikolai, was snorting and whispered something in her ear—probably encouraging whatever wicked prank on Gwaine she was thinking of.

As always. 

Mercutio was complaining to Valentino and his wife about something Romeo did recently, occasionally being interrupted when one of them spotted their children doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. More often than not being interrupted by Romeo and his wife Juliet both claiming it wasn't that bad only for their cousin, Benvolio, to cut in and say it was worse actually. 

Liam was talking about their crew to Jasper as he readjusted his eye patch strap, occasionally chiming in with stories of his own crew. 

Jack was arguing with Mabletrude, Patriarch, and Valerie. 

Killian's aunts and uncles and grandparents on both sides were scattered across the house, causing chaos of their own. 

The little cousins were chasing the cat and the dog and Killian’s parrot. 

And Killian’s children were outside, talking to their imaginary friends, if he wasn't mistaken. They all had such wonderful little imaginations. 

“Aye, I'm fine. Must have just….gotten distracted.” Killian excused, taking a sip of his now cold tea— trying not to grimace at the taste so that he wouldn't hurt his mother's feelings.

He'd never liked Wonderland tea cuisine  but he didn't have the heart to tell her. Not when she was always so excited to share such things with her baby boy. 

He couldn't bear to break his mother's heart. 

Not after the scare he'd given her when he was three. 

Alice gave him a fond smile. “That's my little dreamer, head always up in the clouds.” 

“Mamn, I'm hardly little anymore. I'm turning thirty. ” Killian couldn't help but point out, no real heat behind his words. 

There never was. 

Killian didn't have it in him to be mean to anyone, let alone his own mother, after all. Especially not when she'd thrown him a surprise birthday party. 

How could he ever be mean to his sweet mother, who loved him with every fiber of her being?

“You'll always be little to me. It feels like just yesterday I was jumping to stop you from falling to your death because you jumped off the top of the stairs trying to fly.” 

“Mother!”

Killian yelped, burying his face in hand in embarrassment. All thoughts of the tea’s reflection vanished from his mind and replaced with mortification at the mention of what his two year old self had tried to do. 

And his family, the traitors they were, all started broke out into fits of giggles, cackles, snorts, and even full blown, never ending laughter.

Honestly, if he didn't love them so much he'd disappear without a trace because of the sheer embarrassment and betrayal alone.

The Jones house was a nice light blue (almost grey) and white two-story house near the sea that was a fifteen or twenty minute walk away from his childhood home and three minutes away from the docs. 

Killian had bought it with part of the nice retirement sum he had gotten after he lost his hand in the navy when he was twenty and had maintained it with the rest of the money atop of the payments he got from the various jobs he did around the village. 

It was one of his pride and joys, tied with the retired naval vessel he'd bought. Second only to his wonderful, wonderful, many children who loved the boat and house almost as much as he did. 

There was the twins—Alice Jones the 2nd or Tilly as she preferred—and Hope. Both the spitting image of their grandmother and both having her affinity for adventure, and the color blue. 

Alice was creative and wild and talkative and gentle , and she talked to the children's imaginary friends the most—the stone statue of the troll in the backyard and some boy named Henry the most. She loved art and fencing and chess and  reading and was rarely seen without her bunny mask and doll. 

Hope was smart as a whip and snarky, but quiet, with wide sharp eyes that made Killian feel as if she could see right through him. She was a feisty one, always ready to throw a punch or a hex whenever someone was mean to him or her siblings. She loved sword fighting and shooting his gun and sailing, and she wanted to be an actress or a sailor. 

They were ten. 

Then there was Harriet. 

His first little mini-me—she had shoulder length black hair that curled at the bottom, freckles, and blue eyes and she was popular in town with many friends. She liked sword fighting and dressing up, and she wanted to be a pirate when she grew up. 

She was wise beyond her years and didn't take nonsense from anyone, and she always had a plan that was just so crazy that it might just work but still needed his help whenever her brush got stuck in her hair. Something she pouted about often. 

She was eight. 

After Harriet, came little Harry. 

His daddy's mini me by choice. 

He looked like his father and acted like his father, and he revelled in being compared to him. He wanted to be just like Killian and loved spending time with him, and telling him about the adventures he and his little friends had had during the day. 

Adventures like swinging on chandeliers and building rafts, and sharing a dairy that they doodled in.

He was six. 

After Harry, came Calista Jane or CJ as she insisted. 

She was a wild child, always running around barefoot and getting into everything. Including random strangers’ rowboats—appearing out of nowhere by swinging on a rope, pulling pranks. Digging for buried treasure and running from nonexistent crocodiles in the bath.

She was bossy and opinionated and an actress in the making. 

She was three. 

And finally, there was the mischievous little two year old boy Killian had adopted, Hort, who was always laughing as wickedly as a child could and trying to make potions out of mud to feed his siblings. 

Who laughed whenever he saw frogs. 

Killian had his hand and hook full with the little hellions and his parrot, but he loved all of them regardless. 

They were the lights of his life and he didn't know what he'd do without them—they were the best things that had ever happened to Killian, and he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. 

Even another chance at love. 

Because who needed romantic love when he had his family?

It had been a week since Killian had been found. 

And in that week, he had not woken. 

Not once. 

He hadn't stirred at the sound of anyone's voice or touch. Hadn't muttered or mumbled or even twiched. 

Emma was worried sick and visited when she could between spending time with her family and chasing after that damned Wicked Witch that had started this. Hoping that she'd be there when Killian awoke so that he wouldn't be alone. 

She knew she wasn't the only one doing so. 

She knew that her mother at the very least had visited and knowing Henry, he probably had found a way to sneak off to visit Hook without anyone else knowing. 

It didn't change the fact that Killian hadn't stirred or make the idea of him waking up alone if no one was around when he finally did stir. 

If he did stir that is. 

Emma sighed as her phone rang, pushing that awful thought to the back of her mind as she steeled herself for whatever news or annoying issue unrelated to the witch she had to deal with now.