Ship in a Bottle

The Beach (AU) Part II ~ Emma Swan

{Emma}
I honestly don't know what time it is. I honestly don't care. I look over at Killian's sleeping form, outlined in the sand by the moonlight. His thick black hair now filled with thousands of minuscule grains of sand. He looked blissfully calm as he slept. Exhaling a little puff of air from his mouth every time he breathes out. A sharp, cool air draft shoots through the crack in the towel I have wrapped around myself - his towel - and it comes to my attention that I'm still wearing nothing but my swimsuit. Bracing myself for the chill, I release the towel and make a mad grab for my clothes. I quickly throw on my ratty old tie-dye t-shirt that's a little too small for me and my favorite pair of jeans. Rewrapping the towel around myself, I sigh with relief as the cold ebbs out of me now that I have a bit more protection.

Laying down, I roll over so I face Killian's sleeping back, wincing as I lean too hard on a large bruise on my ribcage, which I had expertly covered with makeup. I wear my bikini to the beach even though I know I can't go in the water. If I did all of the hard labor I'd put in to conceal my sores would have been for nothing. The salt water would dissolve any makeup, revealing just how battered I really am, but he likes when I tan.

That's why I came to the beach; it's the last place he would look. He thinks I'm scared of the water. I'd like to keep it that way. Killian shifts his leg position and his classic beige swim trunks rustle noisily. For a while, I just listen to the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the soothing sounds of the ocean, and the rustle of the palm trees about ten yards behind us. I wish it could be like this all the time. I wish I never had to go back to Boston. I stop my train of thought and resume focusing on the white noise. I allow it to envelop me until I slip into a restless sleep.

I wake up to a fierce hand gripping my left arm right above my elbow and a rough hand over my mouth.
"There you are," a familiar male voice hissed in my ear, "I was worried when you didn't come back to the hotel room after our little catfight last night." I say nothing, but I silently plead for Killian to wake up.

If anyone asks me what I'm afraid of, I usually say something petty like "the dark". The truth is, I don't give a damn about the dark. I'm afraid of being afraid. I'm afraid of the feeling of fear. The paralyzation that comes with sheer terror, how you become aware of the dryness in your mouth, when all of your limbs turn to jelly. I hate it all with a burning passion. I'm afraid of being weak. I'm afraid of being overpowered.

I try to struggle again the man's hold on me, but it was as if he had a grip like a steel trap. One more bruise to cover up tomorrow. My wild escape attempts showered Killian with sand, causing him to wake up abruptly. He bolted upright and whirled around, searching for the source of the miniature sand storm. Instead of a rowdy teenager, he saw me fighting against my captor.

"Oi!" he yelled, lunging at me, frantically trying to pull me away. The man holding me dropped my arm and I collapsed into the sand gripping my wounded arm. I think I may have dislocated it while trying to free myself as well as the massive bruise I was certain had become visible on my fair skin. Killian was now several feet away, watching the man who now loomed over me closely.

"Who are you, and how did you seduce my girlfriend into sleeping with you?" my attacker asked calmly. Killian's reaction was pure shock. He looked from me, back to the man, and back to me again, still not believing.

"He didn't-" I tried to cut in, "Rob, please stop." I pleaded desperately. I felt a strong desire to defend Killian even though I had only known him for a few hours. Something told me it was the wise choice.

"Why should I?" Rob said, teetering on his feet. It was then that I realized he was completely drunk. Not surprising, considering he was usually heavily intoxicated. He lumbered forward a few feet before falling flat on his face in the sand.

I don't fully remember what happened over the course of the next few minutes, but I do remember Killian's kind face next to me.

"Emma," he murmured, stroking my hair, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. He cradled me for a while, I'm not sure how long. Normally, I wouldn't let him do this. But now isn't the time for 'normally'.
"I've called the police. They're on their way with a medical team for your arm." He pushed me away gently and turned gripped my shoulders gently. "Was he the reason," Killian gestured at Robert, "you were so upset last night?"

I nodded my head, not sure I would be able to speak.

"Has he hurt you before?"

I nodded again.

Killian rose and grabbed my towel from where it lay forgotten in the sand. I watched as he walked down to the sea and dipped the cloth in. When he returned, he set about wiping all the concealing makeup off of my body. When he was finally done, he stood back and looked me over.

"Much better." I smiled at him. A true smile, not the false one I'd been wearing for a vast majority of the past two years. He helped me to my feet and brushed the sand off my clothes. Suddenly, I was overcome by an intense bout of passion. I stood on my toes and surprised Killian with a kiss. A full, real, compassionate kiss. I stepped back, afraid of what he might think.

"I knew you had a bit of fire in you, Swan." He grinned and sat down in the sand, gesturing me to sit beside him. I rested my head on his shoulder, careful not to bump mine. He put his arm around me.

That single moment on the beach was the first time I felt unafraid. I felt safe for the first time in years, and I knew, then and there, that I needed to spend my life with this man, Killian Jones, a.k.a Captain Hook.

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