Challenge 03: Musical Muse
Title: Once Upon a Coffee Shop
Word Count: 1,903
Rating: PG
Song: Heart "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You"
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan/Killian "Captain Hook" Jones
Emma held her daughter’s hand as they waited for the lights to change, holding tighter as they crossed the road.
“Mama, can I have a ‘cino?”
The adorable shortening of Isobel’s favourite drink brought a smile to Emma’s face, and she wondered (not for the first time) if her four year old had already learned the art of wrapping people around her finger with her cuteness.
“Not this morning, baby,” she began, walking past their favourite cafe and continuing on to the school. Her daughter looked wistfully at the counter inside as they walked by.
The breath left Emma’s body when she saw a familiar face ahead. Bright blue eyes looked at others around him, thankfully not settling on her. She was glad, now more than ever, that her daughter had learned not to throw a tantrum somewhere in the last year. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself.
After a moment, Emma turned around and knelt down to her daughter’s level.
“How about we get that babycino, after all?”
With an excited “yay!” Isobel turned around and practically dragged her mother back towards the cafe.
As they waited in line to order Emma kept glancing towards the door, trying her best to appear calm. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever see him again, remembering that he’d told her he was going back home. What was he doing here?
It we her turn to order, and once she’d paid the man behind the counter she risked a glance at the door again. He walked by, eyes straight ahead. Emma let out the breath she’d held and sagged against the counter. All the while, Isobel was oblivious. Thank goodness.
They collected their cups a few minutes later and navigated to window seat.
“Mama, look!”
A particularly large dog was stopped outside now, and Isobel’s hand was gleefully against the glass next to the dog’s nose. Emma watched her daughter’s curls bounce as she excitedly squirmed in her seat, putting her nose to the glass and practically squealing with delight when the dog licked the glass.
As she sat back and drank her coffee, she let her eyes wander to the people walking by. Her heart dropped to the floor when the saw him - looking straight at her. The shock on his face could only be mirrored on hers, though it took him a moment to recover and backtrack towards the door of the cafe. Oh no..
She watched him as he neared, his smile growing wider as he got closer.
“Swan!”
Emma stiffened, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Isobel abandon her play with the dog and face the man who’d called her name.
His smile widened as he sunk down on his haunches to speak to Isobel.
“Hello, my lady,” he began, blue eyes dancing as he held out his hand to her, “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.”
The young girl looked at her mother, and Emma nodded to tell her that it was alright to give the man her name.
“Isobel,” she said proudly, shaking his larger hand with her small one. “Isobel Swan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan. I hope you’re enjoying your drink,” he said, nodding to her still full cup.
It’s OK, she thought to herself, she’s just my daughter. Nothing to see here…
“Momma said I’m allowed to have ‘cinos now that I’m four,” she preened, reaching for the drink.
Emma cringed.
The smile froze on Killian’s face as he worked out the math in his head. It was nearly five years since they’d last seen each other, and Isobel’s eyes - her beautiful, bright blue eyes - were undeniably the same vivid shade as his.
The perfect world Emma had been building for her and Isobel was about to come crashing down, and Emma Swan was scared.
“Emma?” he croaked, asking without asking. The strangled sound pierced her heart and left it exposed. “You...”
And suddenly she knew she couldn’t talk about this with Isobel right here.
“Finish your drink, baby,” she stood up and held out her hand to her daughter. “It’s time to get to school.”
The sorry, I’m so sorry in her eyes couldn’t have been clearer if she’d spoken them, as she took Isobel’s hand and ushered her outside while Killian still knelt, dumbfounded, at the table.
“Bye Killian!” Isobel shouted through the glass, flashing him a brilliant smile and she left. Emma hurried them down the street as fast as her daughter’s legs could go.
---
After hiding in the parent’s room for quarter of an hour, Emma wasn’t surprised to see Killian Jones sitting on a bench across the road, waiting for her. She wasn’t sure that she had any courage left in her for this conversation, but the thought of having to face him again tomorrow, with Isobel sitting right there, was enough to set her feet walking towards him.
She sat down on the bench next him, his form still and unmoving while he was lost in his own thoughts. She sighed. It’d be better to get this over with, now.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he whispered, cutting her off before she could even begin.
“Killian, I -” she faltered, watching the emotions play across his face.
“I have a daughter, Emma. How could you keep that from me?”
“I’m sorry, Killian. You - you were going back to Ireland, I didn’t think you would ever find out -”
“You didn’t think that I would ever find out? HOW DOES THAT MAKE IT ALRIGHT?” he was shouting at her now, and passers-by gave her curious looks as they shuffled on.
“Killian, please -”
“No,” he stood, hands going to his pockets, “No. You’re going to explain to me why you saw fit to hide my own flesh and blood.”
Emma looked up at him then and saw the locking of his jaw, remembered how useless it was to argue with him when he looked like this.She should do this. Explain why she did it. Maybe he’d leave after that. Leave her and Isobel alone. Everything will go back to the way it was. It would all be fine.
“OK. But not here.” she breathed, standing up and leading him away.
---
They walked in silence the three blocks back to her apartment, though she kept looking over her shoulder in the hopes that he had somehow disappeared. He hadn’t, and each time she looked a different expression had gathered over his features. Anger, sadness, calm, joy, anger - it was a never-ending merry-go-round of emotions. One that she caused. One that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to set right.
She led him upstairs once they reached her building, and she pointed to the couch as she made her way to the kitchen to set the kettle boiling.
“Tea?” she asked. He nodded mutely, eyes cataloguing every item that clearly belonged to Isobel. He picked up a ragged princess doll from the chair before he sat down, idly running his fingers through it’s hair until Emma returned with two steaming cups.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, placing them carefully on the coffee table, “all I’ve got is Earl Grey.”
He nodded again without saying anything, his eyes still roaming the room. Emma had no idea where to begin.
“So,” Killian began, breaking the awkward silence. “Her name is Isobel?”
Emma swallowed and placed her cup back down. “Isobel,” she nodded, curling her feet up under her, “Isobel Maree Swan.”
He nodded again and was silent for a few more moments.
“Whatever happened to - him?” he asked, nodding towards the picture on the bench.
Emma looked at the picture and felt the guilt flare up inside of her once more.
“ - you still call yourself Swan, so obviously you didn’t go through with it.”
It, she thought. The Wedding.
“He died,” she whispered, hearing his intake of breath and knowing she would see pity if she looked at him right now. She didn’t want pity from him, so she spoke louder.
“Car accident, a week before the wedding. We were on our way home from the obstetrician and a drunk driver hit the his side. He died on impact.”
She saw the horror on his face, the shame in his eyes. Saw him put together the pieces of her life since then. She saw it all clicking into place. Then she saw him shove it aside.
“I’m sorry, love. I am. But this doesn’t change the fact that you should have told me.”
She nodded then, slowly. She should have told him the moment she found it she was pregnant, but she was scared. Scared what Neal would do when he found out the baby wasn’t his. Scared what Killian would do when he was told he was going to be a father.
“I loved Neal,” she began, leaning forward to pick up her tea back off the coffee table, “I loved him, but he couldn’t give me a baby. He wanted one so badly, and we’d been trying for months. The doctor said that the chance was so remote, and then you came along and -”
“Is that all I was? A fucking sperm donor?”
“No!”, she answered, surprised to hear the venom again in his voice. “How could you you even think that?”
“How could I -” he spluttered, hand gesturing towards her as his words temporarily failed him. He clenched his hands into fists and pulled them back to his lap. “Emma, we knew each other for months. We flirted for months. We went out on a date. You invited me back to a hotel room, and when I woke up in the morning I was left with a Dear John on the pillow.”
Emma cringed as the memories came flooding back. The guilt at betraying Neal, the indecision that tore at her that morning.
“Worse than a Dear John,” he said, blue eyes met her own green and she could see the hurt reflect in his, “you told me that you were engaged, and it was all a mistake.”
He started up at the ceiling for a long moment, before leaning forward to get his own cup.
“I loved you,” he said simply, taking a sip of tea and balancing the cup back down on his leg. “Did you know that?”
The tears flowed freely down Emma’s face now, and she felt pathetic that it had come to that. She didn’t cry in front of other people, ever. But she’d hurt him so badly, and the part of herself that she’d hurt at the same time, that she’d hidden for so long, came rushing right back to the surface.
“Killian, I’m sorry,” she said again, wiping away at the moisture on her cheeks. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did,” he stated, not breaking eye contact. “You hurt me then, and I tried for months to get over it. I went back to Ireland, but my mind was full of you, love.”
The last word was a sneer, a mockery of the endearment he’d used so often. Lass, Princess, Sweetheart… words she’d never hear again, except in the corners of her memory that she’d bring out to remember when she was alone and lonely.
“I want to see my daughter,” he stated simply. “And you can’t keep her from me.”
Word Count: 1,903
Rating: PG
Song: Heart "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You"
Characters/Pairings: Emma Swan/Killian "Captain Hook" Jones
Emma held her daughter’s hand as they waited for the lights to change, holding tighter as they crossed the road.
“Mama, can I have a ‘cino?”
The adorable shortening of Isobel’s favourite drink brought a smile to Emma’s face, and she wondered (not for the first time) if her four year old had already learned the art of wrapping people around her finger with her cuteness.
“Not this morning, baby,” she began, walking past their favourite cafe and continuing on to the school. Her daughter looked wistfully at the counter inside as they walked by.
The breath left Emma’s body when she saw a familiar face ahead. Bright blue eyes looked at others around him, thankfully not settling on her. She was glad, now more than ever, that her daughter had learned not to throw a tantrum somewhere in the last year. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself.
After a moment, Emma turned around and knelt down to her daughter’s level.
“How about we get that babycino, after all?”
With an excited “yay!” Isobel turned around and practically dragged her mother back towards the cafe.
As they waited in line to order Emma kept glancing towards the door, trying her best to appear calm. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever see him again, remembering that he’d told her he was going back home. What was he doing here?
It we her turn to order, and once she’d paid the man behind the counter she risked a glance at the door again. He walked by, eyes straight ahead. Emma let out the breath she’d held and sagged against the counter. All the while, Isobel was oblivious. Thank goodness.
They collected their cups a few minutes later and navigated to window seat.
“Mama, look!”
A particularly large dog was stopped outside now, and Isobel’s hand was gleefully against the glass next to the dog’s nose. Emma watched her daughter’s curls bounce as she excitedly squirmed in her seat, putting her nose to the glass and practically squealing with delight when the dog licked the glass.
As she sat back and drank her coffee, she let her eyes wander to the people walking by. Her heart dropped to the floor when the saw him - looking straight at her. The shock on his face could only be mirrored on hers, though it took him a moment to recover and backtrack towards the door of the cafe. Oh no..
She watched him as he neared, his smile growing wider as he got closer.
“Swan!”
Emma stiffened, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Isobel abandon her play with the dog and face the man who’d called her name.
His smile widened as he sunk down on his haunches to speak to Isobel.
“Hello, my lady,” he began, blue eyes dancing as he held out his hand to her, “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.”
The young girl looked at her mother, and Emma nodded to tell her that it was alright to give the man her name.
“Isobel,” she said proudly, shaking his larger hand with her small one. “Isobel Swan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan. I hope you’re enjoying your drink,” he said, nodding to her still full cup.
It’s OK, she thought to herself, she’s just my daughter. Nothing to see here…
“Momma said I’m allowed to have ‘cinos now that I’m four,” she preened, reaching for the drink.
Emma cringed.
The smile froze on Killian’s face as he worked out the math in his head. It was nearly five years since they’d last seen each other, and Isobel’s eyes - her beautiful, bright blue eyes - were undeniably the same vivid shade as his.
The perfect world Emma had been building for her and Isobel was about to come crashing down, and Emma Swan was scared.
“Emma?” he croaked, asking without asking. The strangled sound pierced her heart and left it exposed. “You...”
And suddenly she knew she couldn’t talk about this with Isobel right here.
“Finish your drink, baby,” she stood up and held out her hand to her daughter. “It’s time to get to school.”
The sorry, I’m so sorry in her eyes couldn’t have been clearer if she’d spoken them, as she took Isobel’s hand and ushered her outside while Killian still knelt, dumbfounded, at the table.
“Bye Killian!” Isobel shouted through the glass, flashing him a brilliant smile and she left. Emma hurried them down the street as fast as her daughter’s legs could go.
---
After hiding in the parent’s room for quarter of an hour, Emma wasn’t surprised to see Killian Jones sitting on a bench across the road, waiting for her. She wasn’t sure that she had any courage left in her for this conversation, but the thought of having to face him again tomorrow, with Isobel sitting right there, was enough to set her feet walking towards him.
She sat down on the bench next him, his form still and unmoving while he was lost in his own thoughts. She sighed. It’d be better to get this over with, now.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he whispered, cutting her off before she could even begin.
“Killian, I -” she faltered, watching the emotions play across his face.
“I have a daughter, Emma. How could you keep that from me?”
“I’m sorry, Killian. You - you were going back to Ireland, I didn’t think you would ever find out -”
“You didn’t think that I would ever find out? HOW DOES THAT MAKE IT ALRIGHT?” he was shouting at her now, and passers-by gave her curious looks as they shuffled on.
“Killian, please -”
“No,” he stood, hands going to his pockets, “No. You’re going to explain to me why you saw fit to hide my own flesh and blood.”
Emma looked up at him then and saw the locking of his jaw, remembered how useless it was to argue with him when he looked like this.She should do this. Explain why she did it. Maybe he’d leave after that. Leave her and Isobel alone. Everything will go back to the way it was. It would all be fine.
“OK. But not here.” she breathed, standing up and leading him away.
---
They walked in silence the three blocks back to her apartment, though she kept looking over her shoulder in the hopes that he had somehow disappeared. He hadn’t, and each time she looked a different expression had gathered over his features. Anger, sadness, calm, joy, anger - it was a never-ending merry-go-round of emotions. One that she caused. One that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to set right.
She led him upstairs once they reached her building, and she pointed to the couch as she made her way to the kitchen to set the kettle boiling.
“Tea?” she asked. He nodded mutely, eyes cataloguing every item that clearly belonged to Isobel. He picked up a ragged princess doll from the chair before he sat down, idly running his fingers through it’s hair until Emma returned with two steaming cups.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, placing them carefully on the coffee table, “all I’ve got is Earl Grey.”
He nodded again without saying anything, his eyes still roaming the room. Emma had no idea where to begin.
“So,” Killian began, breaking the awkward silence. “Her name is Isobel?”
Emma swallowed and placed her cup back down. “Isobel,” she nodded, curling her feet up under her, “Isobel Maree Swan.”
He nodded again and was silent for a few more moments.
“Whatever happened to - him?” he asked, nodding towards the picture on the bench.
Emma looked at the picture and felt the guilt flare up inside of her once more.
“ - you still call yourself Swan, so obviously you didn’t go through with it.”
It, she thought. The Wedding.
“He died,” she whispered, hearing his intake of breath and knowing she would see pity if she looked at him right now. She didn’t want pity from him, so she spoke louder.
“Car accident, a week before the wedding. We were on our way home from the obstetrician and a drunk driver hit the his side. He died on impact.”
She saw the horror on his face, the shame in his eyes. Saw him put together the pieces of her life since then. She saw it all clicking into place. Then she saw him shove it aside.
“I’m sorry, love. I am. But this doesn’t change the fact that you should have told me.”
She nodded then, slowly. She should have told him the moment she found it she was pregnant, but she was scared. Scared what Neal would do when he found out the baby wasn’t his. Scared what Killian would do when he was told he was going to be a father.
“I loved Neal,” she began, leaning forward to pick up her tea back off the coffee table, “I loved him, but he couldn’t give me a baby. He wanted one so badly, and we’d been trying for months. The doctor said that the chance was so remote, and then you came along and -”
“Is that all I was? A fucking sperm donor?”
“No!”, she answered, surprised to hear the venom again in his voice. “How could you you even think that?”
“How could I -” he spluttered, hand gesturing towards her as his words temporarily failed him. He clenched his hands into fists and pulled them back to his lap. “Emma, we knew each other for months. We flirted for months. We went out on a date. You invited me back to a hotel room, and when I woke up in the morning I was left with a Dear John on the pillow.”
Emma cringed as the memories came flooding back. The guilt at betraying Neal, the indecision that tore at her that morning.
“Worse than a Dear John,” he said, blue eyes met her own green and she could see the hurt reflect in his, “you told me that you were engaged, and it was all a mistake.”
He started up at the ceiling for a long moment, before leaning forward to get his own cup.
“I loved you,” he said simply, taking a sip of tea and balancing the cup back down on his leg. “Did you know that?”
The tears flowed freely down Emma’s face now, and she felt pathetic that it had come to that. She didn’t cry in front of other people, ever. But she’d hurt him so badly, and the part of herself that she’d hurt at the same time, that she’d hidden for so long, came rushing right back to the surface.
“Killian, I’m sorry,” she said again, wiping away at the moisture on her cheeks. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did,” he stated, not breaking eye contact. “You hurt me then, and I tried for months to get over it. I went back to Ireland, but my mind was full of you, love.”
The last word was a sneer, a mockery of the endearment he’d used so often. Lass, Princess, Sweetheart… words she’d never hear again, except in the corners of her memory that she’d bring out to remember when she was alone and lonely.
“I want to see my daughter,” he stated simply. “And you can’t keep her from me.”