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Why is it always me? she wondered as she rubbed her hands together. It’s because you’re the savior, a little voice inside her responded. The little voice that always brought up her doubts and her pain whenever a smile finally made its way to the front. Through the cold and through the ice wall, she could hear muffled shouts and a chink, chink, chink. She tried her very best to stay awake in between the candy-wrapper crackles of the radio, but as the minutes (or hours, who was to say?) passed, it became harder and harder. She tried conversing with the woman in blue but it was to no avail, try as she might and shout as Elsa may, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
The next thing she knew the clean but smoky smell of magic was piercing her senses. She fought against the iron grip of the cold and squinted her eyes open, catching the icy swirls peeking out through her newfound friend’s hands. The change brought strength to her shivering frame, and she was able to wake completely, hoping that soon she would be home and her family would be there to help her force the chill from her bones. The swirling of the ice chips made enough sound to keep her focused, the whirring providing a constant pattern. She pulled herself to her knees, and Elsa helped her to stand. The woman’s touch felt warm, but as she was passed into the waiting arms of her pirate and her father, she reevaluated that conclusion.
Their hands were desperate and they tugged at her roughly, trying to get her away from the cold, but she didn’t mind because Killian was holding her up and he was warm and God did it feel nice being cuddled against him. She could feel the lingering panic begin to seep from him as he cradled her head. She felt his heart beating against her chest, it’s pounding rhythm saying you’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay. His touch seared against the back of her neck, but she welcomed it because it melted away the cold and kept her tethered.
“Are you okay?” He had breathed, holding her close to him. It didn’t even require thinking on her part, the frantic nod. You’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay. She gripped the back of his head; he was tangible and here and he was holding her up and keeping her safe and nobody had ever done that before. She was still shaking with cold, but his grip around her convinced her that soon the chill would leave, that she could have warmth running through her veins again.
Her teeth were chittering and her fingers were numb. Her eyes were watery, but she didn’t dare let any tears loose, for fear that they’d change form and leave icy trails down her cheeks. Another wave of shaking overtook her and her knees buckled, and she was falling, about to hit the frigid ground, but Killian was there (always there) to scoop her legs up, out from beneath her, and cradle her against him. The gesture was so automatic, so caring and protective. Nobody had ever been like this before- warm and loving and needing to make sure that she was alright. He wasn’t trying to take advantage of her vulnerability, he just wanted to help her. You’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay. She nuzzled into his chest and pressed a kiss to the lapel of his big leather coat; he may or may not have felt it, but she needed to thank him, for being here, for protecting her, for caring.
Heat was rolling off of him in waves and she let herself to be weak, to need another person to care for her. Once he had put some distance between them and the ice wall, she finally allowed herself to cry, body wracking sobs mixing in with her shivers. She had almost died- she would’ve left behind her son and her parents and him. When they reached the truck, he sank to the ground and leaned against a tire, holding her on his lap and rubbing her back.
“I- I- I could’ve…”
“Shh. It’s alright, love. I promise. Everything’s going to be fine.” She lost track of how long he had sat and held her, trying to rub the chill out of her arms while wiping tears off her cheeks. Eventually her weeps quieted to sniffles. “You’re still cold, love,” he said. He was right; her skin was icy and her blood was not yet warm. He pulled off his jacket in one swift motion and wrapped it around her shoulders. She took in a deep breath. The jacket smelled like him- leather and spices and sea salt and rum and something else she couldn’t quite place. She heard him opening the door of the truck and felt him swooping her up in his arms, settling her on the fabric-covered bench seat, before registering how utterly exhausted she was.
“‘M tired,” she mumbled as he slid in next to her, handless arm wrapping around her and providing the warmth she craved.
“Then sleep, darling. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” His hand collected hers and he swiped a thumb over her knuckles, back and forth, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay. She nodded and let the sleep and the ice thrumming through her veins overtake her.
Her dreams were a constant loop, of her running and shouting and hitting the ground, his hook chink chinking against the ice and trying to stay awake but not being able to, tears and a leather coat and the vague sound of keys turning in the ignition, a warm burst of air but still being too cold. So cold. Turning to ice. She swore there were lines of frost creeping up her hands, flowing out of the nailbeds, inching their way up her arms and winding their way towards her heart, ready to leave her broken and empty and there was a warm weight lying across her shoulders and it helped but God she was so cold and-
“Emma!” She awoke to his arm shaking her and Elsa casting a worried look to her from the passenger seat.
“Wha-” She looked around and tried to gather her surroundings. She was in the backseat of the truck and was carrying a cold weight in her bones, despite the car’s heater being on full blast. Her head was resting on Killian’s lap and he was stroking her hair, soothing away the nightmare.
“You had a bad dream, love,” he whispered. “After you drifted off, your father and Elsa got in the vehicle and we’ve been driving back to town since. We’ll be reaching the loft any minute now.” She nodded and pulled herself up so she was sitting next to him. As she leaned her head against his shoulder, he arranged his coat again on top of her, sealing in the warmth. He picked up her hand again, squeezing and bending, trying to ease the chill out of the joints and erase the blue tinge they carried. David pulled up to the street and turned off the truck. Emma felt the loss of the heater turning off almost immediately. Hook clambered out of the left door and hurried around the vehicle, pulling open the door and scooping her into his arms as soon as he was able. As he carried her the first couple of steps, she said,
“I c-c-can walk on my own.”
“You sure, Swan?”
“I th-think so.” He lowered her legs to the ground and she stumbled forward, but he had a hand out ready to catch her, ready to make sure she didn’t fall. She leaned on him heavily, but walked on her own legs, hoping the movement would set the blood flowing and bringing feeling back to her limbs. She was slow up the staircase, his shoulder and the banister holding her up as she eased one foot up after another. He opened the door for her and before she could get two steps inside, Henry was running up to her and wrapping his arms around her gingerly.
Killian sent the boy to get blankets, as many as he could find, and guided the blonde to a chair. She was still shaking.
“You’re hurt, Swan,” he said, lightly touching the cut along her forehead. She hissed and he pulled his fingers away. David walked through the door. “Dave, can you get a bandage?”
“Why, what for?” Though he tried to hide it, tried to be the calm one in charge, the worry he held for his daughter shined through his voice.
“Emma cut her head.” The sheriff nodded and went in search of a first aid kit, and Hook went to peel off the brown leather that the savior was wearing.
“W- what are you d-doing?”
“Trust me, we need to get you out of this. It’s trapping in the cold.” She nodded and did her best to help, but her arms were quaking too badly for her to have much control. He managed to free her from the coat and ran his palms up and down her arms. Goosebumps rippled up under his touch, and they both prayed it was from the frost leaving her body.
Henry returned with a few homemade afghans and a quilt, before saying something about a plaid blanket and turning back up the staircase. She curled her knees up under her as her pirate tucked her in, a deft hand and a hook pulling the material around her like a cocoon before returning to the task of massaging heat back into her extremities. Her father returned and patched up the wound before trying the lights again. Henry brought another bedcover and David laid it across her shoulders and neck. They all continued trying to bring warmth back to her skin.
He only left her side once, to pull a heater out of the closet and set it by her feet. He returned to his position almost immediately, draping his arm across her shoulder once again and trying to will the warmness into her. Full, unshaken words became easier to form, but she didn’t say as much as she might because she was replaying the incident in her head. In that cave, there was only fear, and it stuck with her, causing tremors nearly as strong as the cold. The cold, too like the cold that had settled over her spirit so many times. But as her son placed a warm mug in her hands, she reminded herself that she wasn’t alone anymore, that here she had a home and a family and her spirit was full of steaming hot joy. And Killian’s hand kept rubbing up and down on her shoulder, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay.
As the color returned to her cheeks and the moon began to sink beneath the treetops, their little congregation began to disassemble. David drove Elsa to the bed and breakfast, and Mary Margaret retired to her bedroom with the baby. Killian sent Henry to bed.
“It’s getting late, lad. You should get some rest.” The boy had nodded and walked up the stairs, smiling a bit because he could sense Emma letting down her walls a bit. Letting down her walls for the man in pirate’s garb kneeling on the floor beside her. “You need to get to bed, too, Emma,” he murmured into her hair.
“Can you stay?” she blurted, surprising them both.
“Of course, love.” She pulled off the layers of blankets her family had set atop her and set her feet on the ground in front of her. The captain helped her to ease her weight onto her legs and begin the walk up the stairs, once again. She was more independent this time, but he made sure to be ready to catch her should she fall. Still protecting her. He turned away as she changed into her pajamas, ever the gentleman, and tucked the covers around her. He made to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed, when she asked,
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you down there?” He gaped for a moment before shrugging. “I’m sure David won’t mind if you borrow some pajamas,” she added.
“You’ll be okay while I-”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. He stood and walked back down the stairs before reemerging in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of checked, flannel pajama pants. Emma patted the space next to her and he smiled a bit, before pulling the hook out of his brace. He laid down, smiling some more when she scooted up against him. He pulled the bedcovers over top of them, even the throw blanket by their feet, murmuring that she was still cold to the touch.
“Goodnight, love.”
“Goodnight.”
She was yanked from sleep by a particularly vicious nightmare, but Killian’s arm was heavy and reassuring around her, and his hand had found its way up and into her hair in the night, settling on the back of her neck as it had been hours before when he pulled her out of the ice. Still breathing a bit heavier, she curled up into him even more, and to an outsider it may have looked like she was trying to crawl into him. Maybe she was. The sound of the silence and his breathing lulled her back to sleep, a tiny smile painting her lips and a sense of belonging in her heart.
When the sun streamed in through the gauzy curtains, she opened her eyes to see his blue ones already awake. Her hand was pressed against his heart and identical little smiles were set on their faces.
“So how long did you plan on watching me sleep?” she giggled.
“I didn’t want to wake you. You had quite the fright, you needed your rest.” She let out a happy sigh and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. His heart still beat beneath her palm, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay.
You’re here, you’re safe, you’re okay.