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The Jolly was retrieved from Blackbeard almost seven days ago now. Once again I am a Captain at sea with his ship and crew and yet... I am not fixed or whole. I thought that she was what I was missing, my home and the life of a pirate, but it’s an entirely different ‘She’ that determines my course nowadays.
We may be divided by realms, but our story is not finished.
Of that I’m sure.
...
Another month goes by, an almost endless amount of sunrises and sunsets, but I’m no closer to making a decision on my future.
I have no desire to pursue my revenge, which leaves me with little drive to continue onwards at all. The men have sensed a change in me, especially Smee, and I’m unsure how much longer they’ll turn a blind eye before mutiny becomes an option.
Perhaps I’ve lived too long.
...
I dreamt about her. The beautiful saviour princess with flowing blonde locks who glowed like the sun on the finest of summer days. For a time, her light filled my waking hours too, but now the closest I can get to her is in my dreams.
Emerging from my peaceful slumber had been bittersweet, the sea so calm that I almost expected to find her at the helm as she’d been in my dream, but there was nothing to be found but half-asleep crew on deck.
The sun disappeared behind a cluster of clouds and I have no doubt that the fates intended it as a message - there’s no happy ending in store for you, pirate.
...
The cold is more biting than it has ever been, or perhaps I’m merely too weak to ignore it? Since returning from Storybrooke, I’m always cold. It’s as though the warmth was ripped from me as the clouds of magic rolled in.
I refuse to shiver or tremble lest the men see yet more evidence of my grief at being apart from her, but I feel the chill nonetheless.
She has taken the light and the heat with her - will the colours drain away next?
...
I tried to sketch her, to capture her in charcoal on parchment so she may have her own place on the wall, but even that endeavour failed.
No sketch could possibly capture the light that danced in her eyes.
Smee informs me that we’re out of further parchment for sketching.
...
The dreams are worse. Their frequency is driving me to distraction.
She is a constant, so near but always so far no matter the circumstance. Hope is something I shouldn’t feel, yet it beats inside my head as steady as my own heartbeat, forcing me to think of her and what could have been... what someday might be, if the whispers of hope can be believed.
The men remain loyal, due to Smee’s leadership and not my own. He will make a good Captain one day.
...
What is there left to be said?
I must go on living, but without her - a punishment more brutal than any given for piracy.
...
There’s a feeling in the air that any decent sailor worth his salt would be a fool to ignore. A change is coming.
It’s been almost one year and each day it’s become more and more apparent that I can’t continue on as a ruthless pirate. She’s changed me and for better or worse, my heart will forever lie with her.
Smee tells me that there’s talk of a magic bean in a port not far from here.
She may not remember me, but I could watch over her, ensure that no harm came to her or her boy...
It’s an idea, at least. A goal to work towards, however impossible.
There’s nothing here for me now.
-
Emma trailed her fingertips over the final page of Killian’s elegant handwriting in the leatherbound notebook, both amazed and completely unsurprised that he really had spent the so-called missing year thinking of her.
With his permission, she’d been slowly working her way through the journals and logbooks he kept in the spare bedroom-turned-office upstairs in their Storybrooke home, eager to know more about her True Love’s long life.
“Ah, you’ve reached that one then?” his voice broke the spell the book seemed to have over her and she looked up into his blue eyes.
“Just finished, actually.” she replied, closing it carefully and resting her hand against the cover, “It’s the last one on your shelf, but it’s not complete. Why didn’t you keep writing?”
“I received word that a curse was coming and that I had to get to you.” he murmured, kneeling down beside her chair and gently cupping her cheek, “The notebook remained on the Jolly when I traded her and by the time I got her back... well, there was hardly much time for writing.”
“But after, when you came back, you could have... Things are calmer now, you could sit and write all day if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“Why would I waste a moment writing about our life when I could be living it with you?”
She chuckled and shook her head, “You always know what to say, Jones.”
“And you don’t, Swan?” he teased, leaning in and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.
“Do you feel warm now?” she asked, the words bubbling out before she’d truly considered them as they pulled apart for breath, “One of your entries talks about light and heat...”
“When I am with you, it’s like a lightning storm in the middle of the ocean. There is so much light, heat and colour that I’m mesmerised, love.”
“I know exactly what it’s like to be mesmerised.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Aye.” she nodded with a grin, “I love you, Killian. Thank you for risking everything to outrun the curse.”
“I love you too, my love. Just remember, there’s no storm we can’t outrun, curses included.”