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Killian was just about to leave Emma’s house for the evening, (the house that was decidedly not theirs, but after Emma’s erratic behaviour since they’d returned from New York, there was no way he was bringing that up), when he froze in the doorway, the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of quiet crying coming from the kitchen.
His first thought was that he didn’t want to overstep.
He knew how delicate his relationship with Henry was, but the boy sounded so… broken.
Killian could tell he was trying to minimise the volume of his sobs, but even so, the overspill of emotions was palpable.
He couldn’t just walk away.
He turned around, taking slow, measured, and intentionally loud steps towards the kitchen, giving the teenage boy time to process the fact that someone was coming.
“Henry?” Killian called out softly, like he would do if he was speaking to a wild animal that he didn’t want to startle away.
Henry’s head snapped up from its downcast position, his eyes meeting Killian’s instinctively. “Oh, shit! Shit. I mean, uh, sugar. I-I didn’t know you were here.”
Killian noticed how dark the room was, illuminated only by the little light still visible in the sky and the glowing kitchen appliances Emma had invested in.
Henry must have been sat at the countertop for a while.
“It’s all right, lad, no harm done,” he reassured with a small smile, carefully planting his feet in the doorway.
Approaching without permission could make Henry clam up.
Besides, one of the few things Killian could do was give the boy control over this situation.
“Sorry,” Henry added, wiping at face, although he didn’t try very hard. He seemed to know there was hiding the way his eyes were rimmed with red, even in the low lighting.
Years of his life spent in the underbellies of dark, dank ships had trained Killian’s eyes to be able to see clearly enough in conditions worse than this.
He could see Henry’s phone, shoved to the opposite side of the counter, alongside a faded book. The spine was turned to face him, and he could just about make out the swirling letters: The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
Killian swallowed, consciously averting his gaze and looking back at Henry. “No need to apologise. It’s been a rough couple of days.”
Henry made a sound halfway between a choke and an affirmative snort.
Guilt swirled in Killian’s gut at not having asked after Henry sooner. He must have been reeling, the emotional wringer he’d been in, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own relationship problems to consider the boy’s mental state for more than a fleeting moment.
He certainly didn’t deserve to be let in. Hesitantly, he glanced over his shoulder and back up the stairs where Emma was likely showering. She would want to know if her son was upset. “Do you want me to get Emma?”
“No!” The reply came too quickly, Henry’s eyes flashing with something more than just pain. “She-she wouldn’t get it. She was there when it-when it happened.”
“Ah. Is this about what happened with Violet?” Killian wagered, but he was met with a scoff.
“No.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. At least that had triggered a response. “All right. Would you like me to keep guessing?”
“I-it… never mind.” Henry placed his hands on the desk, drawing attention to his fidgeting fingers.
Killian could just make out how his foot was tapping against the edge of the stool, so mechanically that he doubted Henry even realised he was doing it.
He stood there in the doorway for a while, half in Henry’s world but half not, left to wonder if he should stay.
“Did-did you know that she was going to do it?” Henry said abruptly, looking up from the counter and staring at Killian in a way that weirdly reminded him of David, when he got defensive about something. “My mom, I mean. That she was going to… split herself in half.”
Killian blinked. “No.”
Henry nodded, his eyes unfocusing and refocusing in a matter of seconds. “Would you have talked her out of it, if you had?”
He drew in a breath. Killian hadn’t wanted to start anything, especially not when everyone else had believed it to be the right thing to do, but no, he wouldn’t have let Regina split herself in half to absolve herself of whatever guilt she felt as a consequence of her own actions.
But Henry didn’t need to know that. Instead, he settled on, “what’s done is done.”
He straightened. “That means yes.”
Clearly, Killian hadn’t been as neutral as he’d thought. “I… suppose it does.”
Henry sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.
If this were any other occasion, Killian might’ve called him out on it.
“‘What’s done is done’ is a quote from Macbeth, you know.” He added, just too casual to be conversational.
“Right.”
“‘I thought I sat beyond the reach of fate,’” he continued, putting on an appalling impression of an accent similar to Killian’s.
“Who said that?”
“Dr Jekyll.” Henry’s fingers tapped the cover of the book in front of him. “He’s talking about the idea of playing God, in a sense. How he thought he was above everything, because he’d created his own, unique person, even though Mr Hyde is really just him but worse. I’m oversimplifying it, but you get me. Dr Jekyll had a god complex, who’s surprised.”
Killian nodded slowly, taking in what Henry had just said. “You’ll make a great academic someday, lad.”
“That’s high school stuff, but thanks.” He shot him a wobbly smile. “I think my mom has a god complex, too.”
It took all of Killian’s best will to stop his body from physically reacting to that.
He’d known that was where this was going, and yet knowing something and saying it out loud were two very different things.
“I don’t get why she did it,” Henry announced, clearly having judged Killian’s silence as an acceptable reaction to his statement. “She spent all this time telling me she’d changed, that she’d accepted who she was, and I thought… well, I guess I believed her. I believed that she’d accepted everything that got her here, Evil Queen and all.”
“She has made remarks of that vein before,” Killian said, not missing the way Henry’s expression opened up at that.
“Right? And-and now it’s like she’s cheating. She’s cut out the part of herself that she thinks is evil, just so she can act like she didn’t do those things. Like the Evil Queen isn’t just another name for Regina Mills.” The full weight of the statement seemed to hit him, and he let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I thought she was genuinely remorseful, but what if she’s not? What if she’s just forgiven herself because she thinks it’s okay, because she’s decided it wasn’t her?”
Killian didn’t know what to say to that.
He knew he probably shouldn’t, that he could bring it all crashing down by stepping closer, but before he could stop himself, Killian was moving to stand by Henry, placing his hand on the teen’s shoulder.
The contact was all Henry needed to break again, a sob escaping from his lungs as he pushed his way out of the chair and threw his arms around Killian, surprising the older man with a hug. “It fucking hurts, Killian.”
Killian pulled Henry closer to him, allowing him to bury his face into his shirt.
Henry stood there for a few minutes, sniffling, before pulling back and croaking, “sorry for swearing.”
Killian was pretty sure his heart broke at that. “It’s all right, lad. I’m a pirate, I’ve heard far worse than that dropped into casual conversation.”
“Exactly. You’re a pirate. You can accept that that’s part of who you are, so why can’t she?” Henry’s posture deflated slightly, and his lip trembled at the comparison. “Why can’t she?”
“I suppose it’s different,” Killian started softly. He might agree with Henry, and believe that Regina had made a terrible mistake, but this was her son, and he was looking to Killian to rationalise his mother’s actions. “Regina has a clear divide in her mind, a moment when the Evil Queen was born, if you like, and she started thinking of herself in those separate terms. I never thought of Captain Hook as distinct from Killian Jones, not really.”
“What about during the curse, then? How do you explain that?” Henry’s eyes flashed, and he muttered almost to himself, “it wasn’t the Evil Queen who tried to restrain me with a tree, and left bruises up my arms. It was Regina Mills.”
And, fuck, he didn’t have a rational answer to that.
“She did what?” He tried to keep a level tone, but he could feel his blood starting to boil in his veins. Any ounce of sympathy he’d had for Regina evaporated.
He shouldn’t jump to conclusions, he tried to tell himself. (Henry wouldn’t lie about something like that.)
Henry wouldn’t want him to get angry. (Did Emma know? She would be twice as furious as he was if she didn’t.)
“Yeah, yeah, it counts as abuse, I know. I googled it, after,” Henry dismissed, like he hadn’t completely reframed how Killian was looking at the situation now. “But-I forgave her. She…she told me she was sorry, and she changed. Or, at least, I thought she did. Then she went and injected herself with that unscientific balderdash in bright blue energy drink form.”
“Henry, listen to me, you can’t stay with Regina tonight.”
“What? No, it’s fine, I’ll get over it.” He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hand.
“I’m serious,” Killian told him, softly but with enough force to command the boy’s attention. “You shouldn’t have to get over it. Regina is not allowed to treat you like this.”
Somehow, Henry looked shocked at that, even after everything he’d just told Killian. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll talk to Emma, and you can stay here for a while. Hell, I’ll even storm Regina’s house if I have to, but you shouldn’t be anywhere near her. Not when she’s making you feel like this.”
“Is-is that an option?” Killian hated how small Henry sounded.
“Aye, absolutely.”
Henry began to scrutinise him then, his gaze turning suspicious. “Why are you doing this?”
“I care about you, Henry.”
“You care about Emma,” he corrected.
“No, I care about you.” Killian sighed. He needed Henry to trust him, so that he could make sure he’d be safe, but he hadn’t said this to anyone. Not even Emma. “Can I tell you a story?”
Henry rolled his eyes, but even Killian could tell it was a front. “Of the two of us, I’m the author, but sure.”
“When I was a child, my father… wasn’t the nicest man. He could turn nasty, at times, and my brother and I had a nickname for that version of him. The Bad Man.” Killian chuckled humourlessly. “We were very young, so not the most inventive. We came up with the name to differentiate that man with the man as called our father since father would say that that wasn’t who he really was the moment he was sober, and that he didn’t mean it.”
Henry’s eyes widened, and he could see him begin to draw the parallels.
“Then something would make him drink again and it would happen again. See, the thing is, Henry, my father was still the same man underneath, and even though I loved him when he was sober, that didn’t mean I wasn’t afraid of him when he was drunk. Even though he loved me, it didn’t stop him from hurting me. Do you understand?”
Henry swallowed, and although he didn’t reply, Killian could tell that he did.
“Even though she loves me,” he echoed under his breath, “it won’t stop her from letting the Evil Queen hurt me again.”
His eyes snapped to Killian’s, and he whispered, “I’m sorry for saying you didn’t care. Can you stay here tonight? Just in case?”
“Aye.” He’d have to ask Emma, but even an outright refusal from her wouldn’t stop him from protecting this kid.
Killian was just glad he’d walked past when he did. He might not be able to change his own past, but he could change Henry’s future.