Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His footsteps fell in time with the crocodile’s, and he kept with the beast’s brisk pace whether he wanted to or not. His body walked on command, which, he noted, at least meant that he didn't have to worry about where he was walking, Gold taking care of that for him. Which left his mind to wander to every place that he didn't want it to. No, he didn't want to think about where they were heading to, nor did he want to think about the magical hat he kept hidden behind his back. No. He didn't want to think about any of it, unfortunately, in his current predicament, he had little else to do. His stomach roiled and churned at what was about to happen, at what the crocodile was about to make him do. That bloody bastard took selfish to a whole new extreme, which he definitely was not surprised to learn, yet it still saddened him. Not on the crocodile’s behalf, no, far from it. His thoughts flickered to Belle, who was blissfully unaware of her husband’s (that thought still left a sour note at the back of his throat, and he never failed to think of Milah whenever it was mentioned or brought up) goings ons. He was snapped out of his musings as they rounded the corner, and came side by side in front of Granny’s. Through the brief glances he could snatch in between the blinds, he saw the fairies bustling about inside, and his heart sank as he spotted a familiar green-clad fairy near the back next to Belle. He brought the hat in front of him, knowing that the crocodile was going to make him do it regardless of how much a fight he put up, and so he decided to forgo making this more difficult for himself. The beast had a habit of squeezing on his heart whenever it looked like Killian might hesitate (or sometimes just because he felt like it) and he needed to be in a non-pain addled state of mind if he wanted any hope of trying to free himself from the crocodile’s clutches.

“Go around the back and wait,” he ordered him, and he felt his jaw tick in annoyance as his body already started subconsciously complying with his words. He may not be physically holding his heart at the moment, but he could feel the crocodile’s ownership over him, and knew that his body would be compelled to do as he was told. “You’ll know when you’re needed.” A brief flash of fear filled him as he thought that this might not be a quick in and out job. What if Emma saw him? Belle? Tink? How would he even explain himself? Oh, yeah, I'm just holding onto this magical hat for a friend, pay no attention to it as it tries to suck you in, it just does that. That's normal. Worry washed over him even as he registered his body automatically moving around to the back of the diner in preparation for his cue. He quickly made his way around the side, knowing that dallying would earn him no favours from the Dark One. After carefully balancing the hat under his left arm, he pushed the door open cautiously, wary of anyone that might spot him. However, (thankfully?) there was no one, and he crept forward silently, making sure that he kept behind the cover of the door frame that lead further in the diner. 

“I need you in the shop for a short while.” The aggravating sound of the crocodile’s voice filtered through from the main area, and he felt a flash of rage at the crocodile’s attempts to pull Belle away. He hoped, not only for her sake but for all their sakes, that she would be as stubborn as she possibly could. The crocodile wouldn't make him trap the fairies if there was even a chance Belle might see it, and so he clung to what little hope he had left that she would be as mulish as she humanly could. 

“She’s working, we can't spare her at the moment,” Tink’s no-nonsense voice responded to the crocodile’s which made his heart clench even tighter in fear, and he silently prayed that Tink would suddenly find herself as far away from the diner as possible. 

“Tink is right, this is too important.” His out-of-body heart soared, and he had never felt more elated at Belle’s insistence to help. “We’re really close here, Rumple. Please? Please be patient?” 

“Of course.” Even though the thought of Belle pleading with the Dark One made his blood boil, that wasn't what was important. What was important was that she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. “Well, until you can go I’ll just, uh… I’ll just keep you company. Perhaps I’ll be helpful?” No amount of control over his actions could have stopped the silent incredulous scoff that left him, as well as the eye-roll that could rival even Emma’s.

“This is light magic, Dark One.” He didn't think the day would ever come were he would be actively cheering for Blue, -between his own dislike of fairies, and what the woman had done to Tink- but apparently today was full of surprises. Perhaps if they could push the Dark One enough, he would back off entirely? That could buy him enough time to figure out a way to free himself. However, he knew it was wishful thinking. The crocodile was a coward, except when it came to power, at which point he would suddenly give up for nothing. It disgusted him if he was truly honest. What made it worse, was that the man had the gall to wed Belle under the pretense of ‘love’ (till cowardice do us part), much like Milah, she deserved so much better.

“Well, then, maybe I’ll learn something.” He could practically see the sneer on the Dark One’s face as he replied to Blue. Bloody crocodile. After a few tense moments when everything seemed to crawl to a standstill, he could hear the fairies starting to bustle about again, and a brief glance revealed the Dark One sitting near the front of the diner, watching the fairies work. This was good. He only hoped that Belle’s insistence to work would hold out for long enough that the fairies could find a cure for the new curse they found once again hanging over their heads. He knew the guilt would eat away at his insides regardless of whether or not the fairies completed their work if he was still commanded to trap them, but he held onto the small sliver of hope that perhaps the crocodile would back off entirely if they completed their mission. It would certainly make his exit plan far harder for Belle to believe. Wouldn't make him look like much of a hero then, now would it? No looming threat he had saved them from, and he found himself grinning like a fool. If the fairies completed their task, the Dark One’s carefully laid plans would start to unravel, and that could be just the opportunity he needed. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the diner’s front door open, he did however hear the beautiful voice of at least one person that had entered the establishment. 

“The necklace, do you have it?” Belle’s voice called out, and his breath caught in his throat, hoping, praying, even though he hadn't done so in centuries, that they did. 

“It’s right here,” Emma’s voice responded, and his stomach simultaneously filled with butterflies and a fear that settled like lead, and he had to close his eyes against the different emotions warring in his gut. On the one hand, he was always happy to see Emma, no matter the circumstances, however on the other hook, he was terrified of her presence in the diner given his current instructions. He was certain that the crocodile would have no qualms if a certain saviour happened to be swept up with the fairies. He waited anxiously as their conversation stilled, ears straining to pick up anything. 

“It’s pebbles from the mine.” His heart had never sunk quicker in his life. No, no, no! It had been apparent from the conversations he’d overheard between the various fairies that they were quickly running out of time, and that if they didn't get the necklace soon, it would all be for naught. There was no way they could get the necklace to them in time now, not if they had fallen for a bait and switch. He could barely register the rest of the conversation, it all quickly fading to the background as he could practically feel the smug hold the crocodile had over his heart. 

“What?!” He couldn't even be happy as he heard Emma’s voice ring out clearly, stunned confusion pitching her word. He had failed. He had once again been let down by hope, at this point he didn't know why he kept trying to bother with it. His hand met his face as panic set in, and he desperately tried to control his breathing lest he draw attention to himself. How the bloody hell was he going to fix this? Could he even fix it? Most of his plans up until this point hinged on the fairies completing their work before Belle was pulled away by the Dark One. But now that wasn't an option. The crocodile would take the first chance he could to take Belle away, and then it was only a matter of when regarding the fairies. His brain tuned back into the conversation just as Emma piped back up (probably because of, if he was going to be honest, and considering he didn't have many opportunities left to do so, he might as well take them as they came).

“Well I’m not giving up. I know she’s down in the mines looking for Anna. I’m going to go help Elsa find her.” A small breath of relief left him, at the very least he wasn't going to be forced to trap Emma in the bloody hat, not that he was overjoyed at who he was going to have to trap in it. He tried to force his thoughts away from Tink and stay at the task at hand. (He failed miserably.)

The door chimed again, and he heard several people exit the diner. Belle, however, not among them, which was what mattered at the moment. However, no matter how much mental shooing he did, Tink remained an annoyingly permanent fixture. If he had control over his body, he may have been able to signal her over and warn her without alerting anyone else. Obviously, he couldn't let her tell the others, but, as unheroic of him as it was, he cared for Tink far more than he did any of the other fairies anyway. But he knew that even if he could warn her, she wouldn't abandon ship, it wasn't in her nature. He both admired and cursed it about her. Just as he similarly cursed her infernal desire to help out; he knew she was trying to stay in the good graces of Blue, but for once could she just take a break? She didn't need to prove anything to that woman, and, in his opinion, he thought she was rather unsuited as a leader. Not to mention her behaviour and actions were frequently very un-fairy-like (thoughts of her banishing Tink to Neverland sprung to mind). Not that that in any way justified what he was no doubt about to do to her. (A small part of him, which he resolutely and promptly ignored, thought that the punishment was fitting, only on the assumption that it was reversible of course, which he was almost certain it wasn't). He must have gotten far more lost in his thoughts than he thought, as he hid in the back, because when his mind finally moved outwards again, Belle had just gotten off the talking phone with someone. 

“So, Anna’s on her way. But… I mean do you really think they can do it?” Even if they could, they certainly won't be able to in a minute, he thought bitterly as his jaw clenched. There was a decent chance the fairies could stop this curse before it even became a problem, if only the crocodile would let them. Although he knew that that wasn't about to happen, letting them save the town ran directly against his selfish machinations. Wait, if Anna was on her way… his jaw clenched again. That would mean Emma would be here soon as well. Thoughts of Emma getting trapped in the hat alongside Tink swarmed through his mind. He could not let that happen. A small part of his mind was also scared of the fact that Emma might see him trap the fairies, but it was promptly set aside in favour of worrying about her getting caught up in everything. 

“Well, perhaps, but, uh… If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it's: ‘never trust a fairy.’” More like never trust a crocodile. “Come. Let’s get you someplace safe. Just in case.” No… he hazarded a glance just as he saw the crocodile usher Belle out of the diner, turning back to lock eyes with him and give him a singular nod. That’ll be the cue, then.  

He braced himself, if only for a moment, the unforgiving tug on his body starting to take over as he glanced down at the hat resting in his grip. The crocodile was obviously clear of the diner, for the pull became overwhelming, and he felt his body slink forward on its own accord, hat braced in front of him, ready to wreak havoc. They didn't notice at first, or perhaps they just didn't think his unexpected appearance all that noteworthy, as he was now aligned with the heroes of the town. However it took all of a brief moment for them to realise what was in his hand, and their immediate looks of fear clenched his heart painfully. Tilting the hat upwards, grimace plastered on his face, the hat opened up, the yellowish vortex making quick work of the fairies. All of them screamed, or shouted cries of pain or shock. Some of them even tried to run, but it was futile. What made it potentially worse was that in the panic, and the force of the hat sucking them in, their equipment tipped over or smashed on the floor, removing all progress of their work. The hat jerked after scooping up the last fairy, and he felt a brief flash of hope, Tink had not been among them, perhaps she had left and he had simply not noticed? The clatter of a book hitting the floor drew his attention over to the counter. He could not ignore it, his body would not let him. The sound of someone shuffling along, trying to remain unnoticed reached him loud and clear, and he strode around to the other end of the counter, effectively cutting them - Tink- off. 

Tink crouched there, back pressed up against the counter, and for a brief moment, shock at his presence filled her face, before it quickly gave way to a fear he had never before seen in her eyes. He had never thought that he would be the cause for such fear, but, as it were, today was full of surprises. She looked up pleadingly and locked eyes with him, staring in disbelief and fear.

“Killian?” Her voice was so broken. So full of… betrayal and sadness and everything else he never wanted to hear her direct at him . Gods, that look on her face. He never wanted her to look at him like that ever again. Tilting the hat down at her almost felt like a mercy. Only to himself, of course; it truly was the most selfish of mercies. 

“I’m sorry, Tink. I truly am.” The words felt so empty and pointless as the hat immediately started sucking her in. Not quickly enough however to silence the involuntary cry that left her as she fixed him with the most broken, pained look. I thought you had changed, how could you do this? He could read the question clearly in her eyes, and he knew he would never be able to explain it in time, and so he just let the regret and anguish on his face be her answer.

In a flash, she was gone. Something inside of him broke. While he regretted his actions regarding the old man he had trapped, it felt distinctly different with the fairies. With Tink. He didn't know who that man was, only that he held a great amount of power. He didn't know what kind of man he had been, if he had been kind, or selfless, or trusting, or funny, or no-nonsense, or- He stopped that train of thought. There was no point in listing things. That man hadn't been Tink. That was the point his mind was trying to make. Gods, he wanted nothing more than to break down in tears on the floor and drink himself into oblivion. His body jolted forward, crouching down behind the counter as if to hide. Confusion gripped him as he hid in the exact same spot Tink had, what was going on? The jingle of the door bell answered his unspoken question. He had completely forgotten about Belle’s conversation on the talking phone, and anger gripped him. They had been this close to fixing everything. And now it was all ruined. All because of him. No, he mustn't think like that, even if he had just trapped their only hope at stopping the curse. It was the crocodile’s fault. It was your hubris that lead to him gaining control over you in the first place, his mind snidely reminded him. If you hadn't been so desperate to impress Emma, none of this would have happened. The logical part of his mind knew that the crocodile would have ripped his heart out regardless of his paltry attempts at regaining his hand so he could be good enough for her, but it seemed small in comparison to the louder, self-loathing part of him. 

“What happened here?” He heard Elsa ask, clearly taking in the destruction that he had caused. 

“What do you think? The Snow Queen.” Oh, how wrong she was. He internally screamed at her to just check behind the counter he was hidden behind, he didn't care at this point if Emma would never look at him the same way again. All of that seemed insignificant in comparison to whatever the crocodile was planning, and if the only way to stop him was for Killian to pay the price? Well, he was certainly more than willing. In fact, he pretty much deserved it. Oh the nerve he had had at thinking he might finally be becoming a ‘hero’.

“What does this mean?” A new voice entered the conversation, one he could only assume belonged to the mysterious missing sister, Anna. His heart clenched at the confirmation of just how close they had been.

“It means that even with you here, we can't protect everyone.” The defeated, bitter tone in Emma’s voice cut him to the core, and he had to hold back the tears that started to gather in his eyes. He had been the cause of such despair, and even if she didn't know of his hand in it, it didn't stop the guilt that wracked through him.

“So, what do we do now?” Walk behind the counter and see me drowning in my own guilt. Know that it was me that caused this, and that I couldn't have done it alone. Emma was smart, even though he couldn't say anything (not that he didn't want to tell her absolutely everything) she would figure it out. She could stop this before it went any further. 

“Prepare for the worst.” And with that they left the diner again, not even thinking that he might have been there. The door jingled merrily as it shut again, completely at odds with the air of desperation and finality that washed over him. Tears threatened to spill over, but he just let his head thump back with a thud, eyes sliding shut as his grip tightened over the hat. Over where he had just trapped Tink for all eternity. Forget banishment to Neverland, he was no better than Blue. No. His jaw clenched. He was far, far worse. Oh, Gods. Tink, what have I done?

Chapter Text

Killian hadn't put Tink’s information up on his board. He knew Belle had noticed such a glaring omission, but he couldn't handle the guilt that would come if he had to look at a facsimile of her the entire time he tried to rectify his mistake. There was, after all, only so much guilt he could take. He was close enough without it as it was. Tink and he hadn't always been on such amiable terms, at one point he would have said they were more akin to… rivals? They certainly weren't enemies, but they hadn't exactly been friendly at the start. She had held a knife to his throat (not too dissimilar to how he and Swan met, actually (Swan, not Emma, he wouldn't meet Emma for a long time after that)). It was more of a sort of begrudging acceptance between the two of them. After the initial I-won't-stab-you-but-I-still-don't-trust-you phase had passed they had become, what was the term had Regina used once? Ah, yes. Frenemies with benefits. Killian wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he could guess well enough. He supposed it was similar to being ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’ but without any of the romantic inclinations typically involved. They could rely on each other, and they engaged in intimate acts, but they were never together. (At least, not in the way he had come to understand the word’s meaning.) 

They did, however, have a ‘I’ll help you if you help me’ type of agreement. They understood each other, in a weird way. She wouldn't comment on the supplies he brought to her, and he didn't need to tell her to deliver them to Baelfire. It worked, for what it was. Even if the boy would have detested the sight of him, even more so the idea of help from him, what the boy didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Did he feel a flair of jealousy when Tink and Baelfire started forming a relationship that wasn't rooted in murder, infedility, and revenge? A little. But it was a small price to pay so that Pan couldn't get his grubby mitts on him (at least more than he already had). Of course, then his opportunity off the island had arrived, and he grasped it with the both hands that he didn't have, but he held on just as tightly. That deal had been one of the most harrowing in his entire life. And he’d tangled with crocodile. (In hindsight, if he’d’ve known Pan was the crocodile’s father, he would have expected it.) On one of his many excursions for Pan, he had stumbled across the philosopher’s stone. He hadn't known it at the time, but Pan’s hourglass had begun to near its end, and in a rare turn of luck, Killian had the upper hand for once. He knew that Pan desperately wanted the philosopher's stone -even if he wouldn’t admit as much or even if Killian didn't fully understand why- and so he leveraged as much as he could from him. 

A part of him was sad to see Tink go, but the tantalising promise of revenge had been too strong of a pull. Then, there had been Regina, and subsequently Cora, and while his thoughts had strayed towards Tink once or twice, that all changed when he met Emma. Meeting Tink again on that infernal island was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing of course was getting to see her again (even if his eyes were constantly straying to a particular blonde saviour), and the curse being, well, back on that island. Tink knew the moment she saw him again, without him having to say a word, just how far he had fallen for Emma. Arguably, she realised just how far he had fallen more than he did, if he was being honest. Just a singular knowing glance and she knew. He always harped on about being able to read Emma like an open book (he could), but compared to Tink with him, he was practically blind. Getting away from that island (really, it’s inhabitants, even if they’d actually just brought them all along without knowing it) in one piece had been a miracle, even more so considering that this time, he didn’t have to leave Tink behind. 

They fell back into their familiar relationship (albeit without the more intimate parts) and he was genuinely happy to have her back, even if she was still chasing after the approval of Blue (who’s trapped alongside Tink, a snide part of his brain reminded him). She had been the one to urge him towards Emma when he had abandoned all hope in the Enchanted Forest, to reassure him in her no-nonsense way when he started having doubts regarding their forgiveness for his past sins and his unwilling part as a pawn in Zelena’s schemes. She’d been there to offer solace, and comfort, and most important of all. A drinking buddy. He’d especially needed one of those after Baelfire’s -Neal’s- death. She knew him like he did. They’d both cared for him, albeit some in more obvious ways. Killian had just started tentatively rebuilding the shattered bond they had once shared, and he had hoped that they could at least one day be friends. (Of course, life was far too cruel for that. It would rather give him a taste of what could have been and then rip it away, much like it did when he hauled him out of the ocean for the first time.)

One thing had always been the same, Tink was there for him (well, maybe not at the beginning, but since then). That was what made all this so much worse. He’d abandoned her before, and while she’d forgiven him then, he knew this was likely to be the final, betrayed nail in the coffin that was their friendship. His mind wandered back to the present and he could feel Belle’s eyes on him, even from across the room, but he staunchly ignored her, keeping his back firmly in between them. There was so much she wanted to say, he knew; he hadn't been oblivious to her cut off sentences and almost asked questions. A part of him was glad, verbalising the guilt and fear he felt would make it feel too real, but a larger part of him just wanted someone to talk to. He wasn't sure just how much Emma knew of his history with Tink, the two of them had been friends before this, but he didn't want to accidentally upset this newfound thing that was finally happening between them. Most of his other options weren't much better. Mary Margret still had this slight air of distrust towards him, so he figured talking about his exes while he was dating her daughter would probably be a no-no. Henry was simply not an option at all. David, however, was promising, but he’d just finally started to get to a place with the man were he felt like they could comfortably be called ‘friends’, and as such he had no desire to muck it up (plus, he really had no desire to talk about his past mistakes with the man). Regina was a… possibility, and she had known Tink, but he wasn't entirely sure he could withstand the incessant mocking she would send his way if he decided to open up to her. So all in all, no one. Belle, however, was still staring at him.

“Killian?” He could hear the hesitancy in her voice, without him even needing to turn around to see the confirmation of such on her face. With his back still firmly in between them, he turned his head slightly to indicate that he was listening. While he really didn't want any flowery, feeling related conversation to start between them, he wasn't about to be rude to her. She’d saved his life, even when she didn't have to, even despite all the awful things he’s done to her (removing her memories, trying to kidnap her, trying to kill her. Twice. The list went on) and so he owes her despite her insistence that he doesn't. “Do you, ah, do you read this?” A part of him is shocked that she doesn't even try to engage in feelings, but he supposes she’s had nearly a month’s worth of him locking down any attempt at that kind of conversation; she was bound to learn sooner or later. So, he turns to her fully, and strides over to her from where she’s standing behind the counter, perched on a stool. As he approaches she turns the dusty weathered tome around to face him, the movement careful, unwilling to upset the fragile, worn pages. He idly wonders if that thing is actually older than he is. He peers at the book, trying to ignore the hopeful expression on Belle’s face at the prospect of another clue to help them on their way. Its Greek, that much he’s sure of, but between the penmanship of whoever wrote this, and whatever dialect of Greek this is in, he’s only able to understand about every word in three. If he tried to translate this himself, it would no doubt be riddled with errors. Errors that would more likely than not get them killed. He does however quickly skim read it, and what he finds is more than promising. There are several mentions to a hat, and that it apparently could contain everything in existence, plus it did say something about the hat being magical (or it causing magic, the text is very unclear). Either way, it’s promising. Belle has been intently watching his face as he reads, and he tries to keep the hope off his face, if only to not raise her spirits only to have them crushed.

“I can read it.” Her face splits into a wide grin, but falls ever so slightly as he pauses, and she knows that isn't all he has to say.

“I feel a ‘but’ coming…” There are more than a dozen lewd jokes that immediately spring to his mind, but he bites them all back, instead favouring a simple quirk of his eyebrows to get across the fact that he could have, but chose not to.

“But, between the dialect it’s in, and the atrocious handwriting of the scribe, any translation I attempt would be poor at best.” Her face falls even more, before an idea seems to spark in her mind, and she brightens with that infuriating optimism that he just can not understand how she maintains.

“Don't worry about it.” She reaches over the counter to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll reach out to a few professors and ask them, I’m sure one of them will be able to read both the dialect and this person’s doctor scrawl.” He almost wants to ask her what she means by that. Poor handwriting was usually a trait of the uneducated, and from what he had gathered from this realm’s physicians, they were anything but that. She doesn't notice the questions tumbling about in his mind as she is already busy holding her phone (Dave would not stop grouching at him about that) up to the book, the tell tale flashes alerting him that she was taking a ‘picture’ of the pages, presumably so that the professors she was sending them to could read the book without having it physically present in front of them. The Land Without Magic sure did have its conveniences. She glanced back up at him after she’s finished, that same hesitance from before creeping into her eyes, and he knows, that despite his best efforts, she is going to try and have a heart to heart with him. 

“Thank you for having a look, Killian. Even if it didn't work out.” He just nodded, not wanting to engage with her further while also trying to still be polite, and quickly turns back to his board, hoping that he’s cut off any attempts at the conversation veering into more delicate territory. For a second or two, Belle is silent, and he’s convinced his plan has worked. That is, until she clears her throat purposefully.

“You might not think it’s possible, but Tink will understand, Killian.” Of all the ways he had expected Belle to start this conversation, going straight for the jugular was not one of them. He tried to figure out if this was better or worse than her beating around the bush for the past month. He was pretty sure he preferred the latter. At least that way, what she wanted to talk about was only inferred, and he could just pretend to be extremely dense. No pretending anymore. He tried to release the tension in his shoulders from Belle’s words, but found that endeavour to be largely unsuccessful. With his back still to her, he let out a small sigh.

“Belle…” He wasn't really sure what he was trying to say. I don't want to talk about this? If I get into this at all I might break into a million pieces? One of my oldest friends is stuck in an interdimensional hat and I’m the one who put her there? None of them seemed to fully capture his reluctance to speak, and so he just let her name hang in the air with nothing to accompany it. However, that obviously wasn't enough for Belle.

“No, I’ve seen this before.” Without him realising, she must have moved from behind the counter, for she was suddenly standing in front of him, effectively blocking his view of the board. Her hands were on her hips and all trace of the kind and sweet Belle had vanished, replaced with a bite and a no-nonsense attitude that screamed don't mess with me. (He resolutely ignored the ache in his heart as he realised exactly who she reminded him of.) “This-this guilt you have, that you’re letting consume you has to stop. You stuffed up, yes, I’m not trying to deny that, but everyone makes mistakes-”

“I’m not quite sure trapping someone in a magical prison for all eternity is a universal experience.” He didn't mean to snap at her, much less interrupt her, but he just couldn't let her go around justifying his mistakes for him. He couldn't let anyone excuse what he’d done, he wasn't going to let anyone downplay his failures and treat them as though they weren't. “If I had just-”

“You can play the ‘if game’ until you go blue in the face, it doesn't change the fact that you realised your mistake, and are trying to fix it.” Now it was her turn to interrupt him, her face scrunching up in anger. “You need to allow yourself a second chance.” His jaw clenched, and he had to look away from her. The familiar feeling of tears started forming in his eyes and he knew that if he looked at her face for even a second longer, he would not have been able to control himself. Belle had no right to be talking about ‘second chances’, not when she had entrusted one to her husband oh so recently, and had been burned in the worst way imaginable by him. Yet, here she was, insisting that he give one to himself. He chanced a brief glance at her, and had to look away even more forcefully when he saw nothing but solemn understanding in her eyes. She sighed, and he could hear the kindness and sympathy in her voice as she spoke.

“Look, I only knew Tink a little bit, and while I don't know the specifics of the history you have with her, I do know that she has it in her to forgive you if you explain it to her. However, at this rate, nothing good is going to happen, because you’re already acting as if you’ve failed, and you haven't even tried yet.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Try to have a little hope, Killian. I know you seem sure of her reaction, but she might just surprise you yet.” This time when he met her gaze he held it, searching for any hint of deception or placation. The sincere intensity he found is the final crack in his carefully maintained walls and he tries to hold himself together as tears start blurring his vision profusely. He is mortified to cry in front of her, she has more than enough problems of her own without adding his to the pile, but he just needs someone to confide in about all this. His tried and true method of bottling had became less and less effective the longer he was around people who actually cared about him. Not just what he could do for them. Who wanted him to be there. Who cared about his problems and didn't see them as burdens. Not sharing was wearing on him far more than he cared to admit. He desperately wanted to reach out and be held by her, to just allow himself this one moment of complete and utter weakness before he resumed his tough pirate persona and they never spoke of this again. She seemed to sense as much, because in the next instant her arms were wrapped around him in a tight, but still slightly tentative embrace, as if she was afraid she’d misread him. 

“I just,” he hated how his voice broke, hiccuping slightly as more sobs wracked through him. He wanted to stop, stop before he even started. To just cry a bit and then move on, but he so desperately wanted to share with anyone, decency and pride be damned. He wasn't sure he was going to get another chance to open up like this in the near future, so he dove in head first. “This isn't the first time,” he finally managed to get out. To her credit, Belle didn't say anything, just let him continue while she rubbed soothing circles into his back. “B-back in Neverland, I-I… left her. I had the chance to get us both off that island and I was too focused on my-my revenge to think about her.” He spat that word out venomously, the idea that had once meant so much to him, and no just felt like a hollow, disappointing waste. “I could have, but I didn't. She forgave me for it, I-I think. It’s j-just now, I’ve betrayed her again, and she can't forgive me this time. Fool me once and all that. I-I just-I don't want her to hate me.” He ended in a small voice, and as he finished speaking, he felt a weight lift off his chest, and he felt lighter than he ever had since that day in the diner. Even as his sobs started to diminish into something more manageable, he still leaned into her embrace as she seemed to mull over his words, and he was grateful that she didn't immediately pull away in disgust.

“She won't hate you, Killian. She’ll understand that you had no choice, that-” Her own voice broke, and he realised that out of everyone the crocodile hurt, Killian isn't at the top of the list, not by a long shot. That place is firmly held by Belle. “-That Rumple forced you to trap her in the hat. The same hat, by the way, that we are going to figure out and fix.” He looked up from where he had nestled himself into her neck without realising, inwardly cringing at the wet, dark smudges that now litter her neck and previously white blouse. She seemed to notice his focus had shifted elsewhere, and peered out of the corner of her eye to the shoulder of her now soiled shirt. Profuse apologies are on the tip of his tongue, but before he can even get his mind to formulate one, she is already speaking. “Don't worry about that. This realm might not have had magic, but I’m pretty sure they forgot about washing machines.” He didn't quite know what she’s talking about, but the name was pretty self explanatory, and he found himself smiling a bit despite everything. She’s smiling back at him, reassurance and determination clear on her face, and he is immediately grateful that he opened up to her, despite not wanting to add to her problems. Perhaps he could return the favour? That would probably ease some of the guilt settling in his stomach. He opened his mouth to ask her when the library door suddenly banged open and Emma strode in in its wake. She briefly glanced around to look for them, before spotting them and immediately looking a little stunned as she walked over to where the two of them were still embraced. 

“I was, uh, just going to get lunch, and I was wondering if you guys wanted to join me, but if you’re busy…” She awkwardly trailed off her sentence, gesturing between the two of them vaguely. He huffed a little, and pulled away from Belle, smiling at her gratefully, an unspoken thank you in his eyes.

“No, we’re finished. I just didn't quite understand something, and Belle told me where I was going wrong. She was right, of course.” Emma’s eyes narrowed at him, she knew there was more to this conversation, but she also understood that he needed time, and more importantly, privacy. He turned away from the both of them, trying to subtly wipe at his eyes to dry his tears, and is disappointed when his fingers come back stained black. He imagines he probably looks like he’s got two bloody good shiners right now, and he knows that Swan would no doubt refer to him as a ‘melting panda’. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder to the two of him as he made his way to the back, where a small washroom was located and made short work of divesting himself of the rest of his ‘guyliner’ (courtesy of Regina). When he comes back after he’s taken a few minutes to compose himself, he finds Swan and Belle talking about the book she’d shown to him, pointing out a few of the illustrations in the book to her excitedly. Swan has an interested, yet bemused expression on her face, clearly not really following Belle’s excited ramblings but understanding nonetheless that the book could mean progress. Emma caught his eye as he walked back over to the two of him, a silent question of ‘are you alright?’ in her gaze. He nodded, and knew that they’d be talking about this later. He found that he didn’t really mind. If it went anything like it did with Belle, he just might be looking forward to it. Sure, there’s still a residual fear in his mind regarding divulging his intimate past with Tink, but, he realised that despite that, a small spark of hope is blossoming in his chest. Things are going to be alright.

Chapter Text

They had finally done it. Or, at least he was about 95% sure they’d done it. The ever present risk of a miss-translation was always possible, but the suspiciously helpful ‘Oxford’ linguistics professor (Belle had assured him everything was fine, but he’d spent his own fair amount of time translating books in his efforts to uncover the crocodile’s weaknesses, and he was certain it should have taken longer than it did) had been the final push towards something resembling an actionable plan. They had something tangible, a set of instructions and ingredients, something that they could actually do something with. Not that he didn't enjoy research -it was both therapeutic, something that came easily to him, and the company was far from terrible- but going through endless dusty tomes was starting to weigh on him. Belle had been a great help. He was sure that if he had been attempting to do this alone he would have spiralled hard long ago, thoughts of his failure and the ones he had lost consuming his mind, just as his revenge once had. Belle just smiled at him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kind look in her eyes. He found himself once again thanking his lucky stars for his ability to stumble into the best possible situations with the best possible people (except for all the times that he really didn't of course, but he noticed they were becoming fewer and farther between these days). Despite the mounting dread, he felt inexplicably hopeful with Belle by his side as they burst into Regina’s office, and his heart swelled at the sight of Emma. Belle quickly told Regina their plan, and he vaguely realized that Emma had made a quip at Regina and he smiled without realising it as blood pounded in his ears. 

This was happening. It was really happening. The dagger was grasped tightly in Regina’s hands as his vision started to dim around the edges, his mind finally starting to catch up to the realisation that, yes, this was happening, and yes, it’s happening now. His mind blurred, a million what-ifs springing to mind. What if Tink and the other fairies couldn't be released? What if the spell failed? What if something insurmountably worse happened because they dared meddle with an object older than all of them combined? What if… what if Tink turned her back on him? Heard him out and still decided that she was done? All of a sudden, he was being pulled backwards, something warm and solid in his hand tugging him away and grounding him. Emma met his eyes as he looked up at her, her hand briefly squeezing his as she smiled slightly. The unspoken conviction in her eyes plain to see, this is going to work. All he could do was smile tightly back, his heart clenching in dread and anticipation as Regina brought the dagger down, before bringing it sharply back up and taking a few steps back as light suddenly exploded from the hat, a fierce breeze whipping up. His eyes squeezed shut from the sudden light and he had to turn away, bringing his arms up to shield himself. Had they been wrong? Was the hat trying to defend itself? Gods, what if they just made everything worse by trying to interfere? He missed Emma’s hand in his. Just as that thought reached him, everything abruptly halted, and he peeled his eyes open to find Emma staring at him, a concerned look mirrored there, albeit for different reasons. He tore his gaze away from her and back over to where the hat had been resting on the boulder. Time slowed to a screeching halt, as there, crouched next to Blue, looking confused as all hell, was Tink.

Something squeezed his hand again, and somewhere deep in his mind he vaguely registered that Emma was the cause, but it hardly seemed to matter as he found he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, his eyes locked on Tink as she warily got to her feet, looking at Blue as she helped her up, ever the courteous fairy. He wanted to run over to her and beg for her forgiveness until his throat went raw and then some. But he didn’t. He couldn't move. The weight in his hand was gone, and something moved in front of his vision, blocking it briefly. Emma. She was talking to them, but it hardly mattered, her voice not quite reaching his ears as Tink briefly looked over Emma’s shoulder, her eyes looking directly into his for a moment. There was no immediate hatred, that much he could tell before he had to duck his eyes, lest he find evidence to the contrary. His mind screamed at him to get out of there, the situation registering as dangerous in some deep primal part of his brain, but he was no coward, that was what ended up making him spin on his heel, not quite walking away, but not quite facing it head on. Half coward. He could see Belle out of the corner of his eye, a crestfallen expression on her face, and his heart clenched painfully as he realised he was the reason it was there. Because he was too much of a coward to just talk to Tink, so that she could get around to hating him, and that everything he feared would become true, and-

“Hook?” Every muscle in his body froze in an instant, back going rigid as he inhaled sharply. Don't be a coward. You're better than this. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, gets what he deserves. Face her like a man. Look her in the eye when she begins to hate you. He turned to her sharply, hand fisted tightly at his side. She looked exactly as she had back in the diner, and he idly wondered if she had been aware of the passage of time, or if it was more like falling asleep and waking again, or perhaps even some mix in between. He could feel her eyes searching his face, looking for something, and he forced his eyes upward. Whatever happened next, he was going to look her in the eye for it. There was something sharp in her eyes; he could almost imagine her next scathing remark, no doubt something equal parts witty and hurtful (truthful, his mind corrected him). She was no wordsmith, but she knew how to speak her mind, and he had no doubt she would give it to him. “You look like shit.” His mouth opened, apology ready on his tongue, however it ended in an inelegant noise as his mind registered the actual words she had spoken and the tone that accompanied them. Her eyes held no malicious intent, no hint of insult, she said it exactly how she would have before. Before the diner. He couldn't understand the look of concern in her eyes. 

“I’ve been better,” he blurted out, his mind still not understanding how ‘not angry’ and ‘Tink’ currently worked in the same sentence. Why was she not angry? Betrayed? Did something happen to her memory? Was this some imposter? The real, justifiably very angry, Tink trapped somewhere in the hat, still? 

“Careful, or otherwise you’ll wear it out,” she teased lightly, trying to ease the mood, as a puzzled frown fell on her face. She seemed confused by his behaviour, but only for a second as she bit her lip, a sad look claiming her face. “I’m alright, you know.” She was… reassuring him? This was all far too much for him to comprehend, so it was a surprise to him when he realised that he actually ended up responding to her.

“Aye, that’s good to hear, Lass.” His voice was strained, and his fingernails were starting to dig painfully into his palm, but despite her forgiving demeanour, he kept waiting tensely for the other shoe to drop, as it did so often in his life. There was a pause, her eyes assessing him wordlessly, and she seemed to be planning to say something in her mind.

“Killian, I-” 

“I’m sorry, Tink,” he interrupted her before she could start, perhaps if she knew that he was sorry for his actions, that he regretted what he had done, she would be more merciful in her final decision (not that he deserved any). There was a pause for an excruciatingly long moment, where Tink’s mouth was slightly agape and she seemed to be half-way between stunned and baffled. She shook her head, blinking a few times as she seemed to pull herself out of her shocked silence.

“... for what?” she finally asked, eyes narrowed in bewilderment rather than anger. As if she truly had no clue over what he was apologising for. Now it was his turn for confusion to ripple through him, the possibility of an imposter seeming like less and less of a far fetched idea.

“For trapping you in that cursed hat, Tink, I beg, you have to understand, I-” 

“I know you didn't have control over yourself, dumbass.” Now it was her turn to interrupt him, her hands immediately going to her hips and her stance changing into her patented unamused, no-nonsense mode. His breath caught in his chest, and he could do nothing but stare at her as mind worked through her words. She already knew? And, she still didn't immediately go about hating his guts? Tink definitely wasn't the type to let someone down easy, he mused, did this mean she really wasn't angry? He couldn't quite grasp the concept, and so he opened his mouth to ask her for confirmation.

“You… did?” He hated how meek and quiet his voice came out. Bloody hell, he was going to cry again, this would do his reputation no favours, especially in such a public place (with an audience, his brain helpfully reminded him). As that thought occurred to him he quickly glanced around through his slightly tear blurred eyes, thankfully finding everyone otherwise occupied. When his eyes finally landed back on her, her face held nothing but heart-break, and he could pinpoint the exact moment that his behaviour finally clicked for her, for it was quickly joined by guilt. She reached out for his arm, then stopped herself as if she were afraid to touch him, but then decided to plow ahead anyway, her hand firmly grasping his arm in an effort to steady and reassure him.

“Hook, I’ve known you for a long time, arguably longer and better than anyone else here. I’ve seen how much you've changed, I knew that something had to be forcing your hand for you to do what you did.” Her words were carried with such a certainty that he could do nothing but stand there and let her words soak in, his mind finally starting to realise that she wasn't blaming him. Perhaps Belle had been right after all, that he really needn't have worried. For the first time in a long time, he smiled, and no weight on his chest held it back. She gave him a small smile back, and he let out a deep sigh, equal parts in relief, and to release the tension that had taken up residence in his chest since the diner.

“You're… you're not angry?” he asked, no small amount of hope creeping into his voice. Even though it was fairly evident at this point that she wasn't, a small part of his brain still craved a verbal confirmation. She huffed out a laugh, but she realised just exactly what he was asking and why, and his heart clenched again at the reminder of just how well she knew him. Oh, how he had missed this.

“No, I'm more angry at myself than anything. I saw how weird you were acting, but between the Ice Queen and her curse I put everything else first, which I shouldn't have.” She stopped for a moment to sigh, and her guilt seemed to stem from a slightly different place, this time out of neglect. He had half a mind to tell her that he wasn't a child, and that she wasn't obligated to check on his well being every five minutes, but he knew that such a conversation would be pointless and change nothing. It was in her nature, both from simply being a fairy, and just who she was, and no amount of conversations otherwise would counteract her protective and caring nature. A small worried frown appearing on Tink’s face drew him out of his thoughts, as she looked up at him with a renewed urgency. “Speaking of which, that all’s been dealt with, right? I mean, you aren't a popsicle or stark raving mad so I assume so.” He could feel her tensing in uncertainty, and the prospect that the main reason she was brought back was so that she could help them fight off the latest villain had her eyes filling with worry. 

“Uh, yeah, it’s been taken care of,” he was quick to reassure her, and her shoulders dropped again, a small huff leaving her as the adrenaline began to subside once more. As they stood there, both of them processing what had just happened, he felt eyes on him and he looked up to find Belle and Emma exchange a knowing glance before they both smiled at him (with a touch too much smugness if you asked him). He looked back down at Tink to find her looking over her shoulder in the same direction as him, before she turned back to him, an identical knowing look in her eyes as she raised her eyebrow at him for good measure. Deciding that he’d had enough of everyone looking at him as if they were in on some great secret, he yanked Tink forward, enveloping her in a bone crushing hug (and definitely not smirking at the small squeaking sound she made). “I’m just so glad you’re alright, Tink,” he mumbled into her neck, her own arms wrapping around him after she’d gotten over her initial shock. She laughed a little, her shoulders shaking underneath his grip.

“Careful now, you old pirate, or otherwise everyone will start to think you've gone soft.” He smiled into her hair, his eyes shut tight as he held onto her.

“I can think of worse things, Love.”