Hook + modern music

Thanks to feeling-quilly and euphoric-melancholyy for the suggestion!

This is the final one-shot in this series. Thanks, everyone, for your kind words and support!

"I don't need a babysitter," Henry said without looking up from the storybook.

Killian sighed. "I'm not your sitter."

"So you just happen to be at my mom's office in the middle of the afternoon when she's not here to … what? Vote?"

"Would you like me to leave?"

"I didn't say that," Henry grumbled. He removed the little plugs he had in his ears and looked up. "I'm not a kid anymore, okay? I don't see why everyone feels like I need constant supervision."

Killian walked over to the chair opposite Henry at the desk. "May I?" Henry nodded, and he sat. "It's not that anyone believes you need constant supervision." He wasn't going to address the other comment; he remembered what it was like to be a thirteen-year-old, and there would be no convincing Henry that he was, indeed, still quite young.

"Then why are you here?" Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly convinced he'd won the argument, nascent as it was.

"Your mother is currently undercover, trying to determine the motives of three powerful villains. Your other mother is trying to help. They're both risking a lot right now."

"Don't you think I know that? That's why I want to help."

"It's more than that," Killian continued. "Villains often combat heroes by going after the people they love. Your mothers haven't asked me to look after you because they think you're a child." Well, there was that, but again, bringing it up would do neither of them any good right now. "It's important that you're not alone because of what those women might do to you if they discover Regina's ruse."

Henry seemed to be considering this. "So what you're saying is that the problem isn't that I'm a kid, but that I'd be a good target to hurt my moms?"

"That's right."

He shrugged. "I guess that's fair." He turned back to the pages in front of him.

"You're really focused on the book, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's our best clue when it comes to finding the Author."

Of course: the bloody Author. Over the past several weeks, Swan had committed to helping Henry and Regina with this strange plan. He wasn't quite sure of its merits, which had resulted in not one, but two fights between himself and Emma.

He supposed that the fights were a little more his fault than hers, since he was the one who brought up the subject both times. And Swan was just trying to help someone she considered a friend. As much as it pained him sometimes, since Regina still often made snide comments and remarks at Swan's expense, he understood just how important it was to Swan to make the friendship stick.

But what good would it do them all, finding this Author and demanding he or she alter their lives? It wasn't just that such a plan couldn't be that simple, although it obviously couldn't be. They didn't even understand how the book functioned, or what the Author's role really entailed; it might not even be possible to make the changes that Regina wanted.

Not to mention the ethics of the thing. He wasn't sure how Regina could change her circumstances without changing other people's perceptions, attitudes, or behaviors. The thought of being controlled like that, of having his opinions or maybe even his personality altered, was beyond abhorrent.

He couldn't fault Regina for wanting to find happiness, since it was something he understood quite intimately. And he had some experience feeling like he was owed divine punishment due to his villainous past. But this felt like the wrong way to change things.

"Perhaps there's another solution to your mother's predicament," he commented, hoping that the lad wouldn't become withdrawn again.

"Like maybe if she just did the right thing without expecting a reward, or if she stopped trying to get revenge every time something bad happened, she'd be happy?"

"Well—what?"

"Look, this is a weird plan," Henry admitted. "I don't know if I'll be able to find any information, and to be honest, I'm okay with that. This isn't about finding the Author and convincing them to fix things, even if my mom thinks that's what this is about. It's about letting her know that we care about her and want her to be happy."

"That's … I hadn't thought about that. Does Emma know about this?"

"Yeah, I told her weeks ago. She didn't tell you?" No, she hadn't, and his silence answered Henry's question. "Oh, okay. Well, yeah, I mean, if we do find the Author, I think it would be pretty cool. This book changed my life and helped break the curse, so I want to know more about it and how it works. The Author is the best person to answer those questions." He shrugged. "Besides, this is really the only way anyone will let me help do anything."

"Henry, it's not as simple as that."

"But I want to be a hero. They all know I want to."

"Being a hero isn't as simple as wanting to be one," he said as patiently as he could.

"How did you do it, then?"

"How did I what?"

"Become a hero." He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm … well, I don't think I am one, Henry."

"Of course you are. You're on our team."

"Fighting a common enemy isn't grounds for being a hero. Rumplestiltskin was aligned with us against Pan, and though he was under Zelena's control, he was very much on our side in that situation as well. Do you consider him a hero?"

"He didn't want to be one," Henry said, and Killian wondered just how angry the lad was that his grandfather consistently failed to live up to his standards. "You did."

"Heroes don't make deals with villains for selfish reasons," he said, thinking of how desperate he'd been to have the perfect date with Swan. "And they certainly don't help villains hurt innocents."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Heroes make mistakes, don't they?"

"I suppose."

"So, there," he said, as if that settled the matter. "Anyway, since you're babysitting me, do you want to help me with all this?"

He didn't really, but there wasn't much else to do. "Uh … how?"

Henry pushed over a few loose pages, a pad of adhesive notes, and a pen. "I only have one magnifying glass," he said apologetically.

"What am I looking for exactly?"

"Anything, really," Henry explained. "These are the new pages from August's stuff, so I haven't really been able to check them as thoroughly. I basically look for any hints about who the Author is, or how the book works. It's weird because I knew there were other pages besides what was in my book—there's one of my mom kissing Robin Hood instead of running away from him."

"All right, so just any clues," Killian clarified, and Henry nodded. He then put the strange plugs back in his ears and began looking at the storybook again.

Killian had seen plenty of people around Storybrooke wearing those ear plugs, including Swan, who usually had them in when she left and returned from early morning exercise. She'd explained it away as just "listening to music," but he'd never pressed for her to elaborate (mainly because they'd both discovered he was unexpectedly extremely attracted to her when she returned to his room breathing hard and covered in sweat; he wasn't nearly as interested in clarification when he was in the middle of fucking her).

But now would be the optimal time to inquire further, especially since it would give him something else to do with Henry besides engage in a fruitless search for the Author. "Listening to music?" he asked.

Henry pulled the plugs out. "Uh, yeah." He narrowed his eyes. "You've listened to music, right?" Killian shook his head, and Henry's expression turned into one of disbelief. "Oh, come on, really? What has Mom been doing with you?"

There was an awkward moment as it clearly occurred to Henry just exactly what his mother had been doing, but they both shook their heads and moved on. "Anyway, yeah, so this thing has all my music on it." He held up the device that the plugs were attached to; it was a small rectangle that looked as though it had originally been white, but had now darkened a bit with age. There was a glass inset, much the same as the one on everyone's phones, and underneath was a circle. "I've been asking for a new one for a while—this one is super old."

Henry pressed the center of the circle, and the screen came to life. But the information on it made little sense.

"That's the song I'm currently listening to," Henry said, as though the information should hold some meaning. "Here, these are called earbuds—put this one in your left ear … and this one in your right."

It wasn't terribly comfortable, putting in the earbuds, but to his surprise, they did fit, snugly enough to remain in place. "Okay," Henry continued, and Killian was surprised at how easily he could still hear him. "Now I'm gonna hit play right here, and the song will start playing."

At first, he heard nothing, but then … a strange sound that was almost reminiscent of a far-away chorale. But before he could register what it was, a piano began to play.

This was … it was nice, actually. Quite pleasant. In fact—

His enjoyment was cut short by an extremely unpleasant noise. "What is that?"

"What is what?" Henry grabbed one of the earbuds and stuck it back in his own ear. It was a little awkward, having to lean in so close to Henry so they could both listen. "It's just the song."

By this point, a man's voice had joined in and begun singing, but Killian was too distracted to follow the lyrics. "The … bloody hell, is that supposed to be percussion?"

"Oh yeah," Henry said, almost relieved. "Killian, those are just the drums. Tons of songs have them."

"Oh." Well, he didn't much like them. "Is it possible to make the music softer?"

"Yeah, right here." Henry touched the circle and moved his finger along it; he didn't quite catch exactly what Henry had done, but the music decreased in volume. "You don't like this song? I kind of thought you would, like, it might remind you of when you liked Mom but she wasn't ready to admit she liked you."

"Perhaps if I heard it again," he said. "I wasn't able to focus on the words." But then he realized what Henry had said, and he grinned. "Did she tell you that? That she liked me even back then?"

"Don't tell her I said that! She'll kill me!"

"I won't, I promise. Now, is there a way to hear this from the beginning? I'll try not to let the percussion distract me."

Killian's phone buzzed as he finished stripping down and crawling into his bunk. He grinned automatically when Swan's face showed up on the screen. "Hello, love."

"Hey." Her voice was low.

"Is everything all right?" He hadn't heard anything from her since she and Regina had found Lily; she'd sent him a message telling him so, and that the three of them were on their way to New York City.

"Yeah, just … we're all sharing a room at this cheap motel, so …"

"Motel?"

"Like, an inn."

"Ah, so you have no privacy."

"Exactly."

"So you found your childhood friend? Maleficent's daughter?"

"Yeah."

"Swan, what's wrong?"

"It's just … hold on." He heard some muffled sounds, and then the click of a door softly shutting. "Sorry, I went outside so we could talk. I mean, I still have to talk quietly."

"Of course. But what's wrong? I can tell you're upset."

There was a long, long pause before she answered. "I almost shot her," she whispered.

His heart sank. He knew he should have gone with them, that Henry would have been perfectly safe with David and Snow. But he knew that arguing with her about it again was pointless; she'd already left without him, so the point was moot. "What happened?"

"She knew. Someone found her and told her the truth about everything—about me and Storybrooke and what my parents did to her. She'd been looking for a way in so she could show up and kill them."

"Bloody hell."

"And then—" He could hear her take a deep breath. "And then when we caught up with her to stop her, she dared me to kill her. Like, she wanted me to. And I was so angry, Killian. I know I'm mad at my parents, but—"

"But you love them."

"Yeah … yeah, I do. And I just—it would have been so easy … Regina managed to talk me out of it, and I think Lily's calmed down enough about the whole thing, but still …"

"Oh, darling."

"I wish you were here," she said, so quietly he could barely hear her. "I still think it was the right thing for you to stay, with Gold and the Author still out there, but I just …"

"I wish I were with you, too, dearest. I truly do."

"You're not disappointed in me?"

He almost laughed, catching himself before he could. "Why would I be disappointed in you?"

"I almost killed her, Killian."

"But you didn't. You're a hero, Swan. You don't hurt people."

"My parents did. It's why I'm here right now, why Lily and I even met in the first place."

"They made a mistake."

"Either they're not heroes, or I'm just as capable of fucking up as they are—and don't say that I'm special because I had the darkness removed from me, because that's the whole problem, isn't it?"

"Emma, I didn't mean to bring it up. I'm sorry."

She sighed. "It's okay. I'm just stressed. And I miss you."

"I miss you, too. So you're staying the night in New York?"

"Yeah, close to it at least. We're going to get Robin and Roland tomorrow."

"What will you do with Zelena?"

She chuckled. "You mean, what'll Regina do with her? No idea. Probably leave her here."

"She's earned her exile. I'd suggest we send the Crocodile back out with her, so they can be miserable together, but I'd worry they'd work together to find a way back in."

"God, probably." There was a click and he could hear Regina's voice in the background. "Sorry, Killian, I should go."

"That's all right, darling." He wanted to say I love you, just so she knew. It was becoming more and more difficult to refrain from saying those words, not when he was so sure she felt the same, not when he'd been desperate to tell her for so long. She must know at this point anyway, but the thought of telling her so before she was ready was terrifying. And so he settled for second best. "I miss you, and I'll think of you until you return."

"I miss you, too. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Good night."

"Good night."

He sighed as he ended the call. It really was too bad he couldn't kill the bloody Crocodile and keep the monster from hurting anyone else. Sometimes, he still thought about doing it, reasoning that his love for Emma could prevent him from doing too much harm as the Dark One.

But the thought of becoming that, especially when he already struggled with his own darkness, was enough to stop him.

He reached for the headphones that Emma had given him and plugged them into his phone before settling them over his ears. When she'd heard that Henry had introduced him to this realm's music, she'd excitedly put together what she called a playlist, with help from Henry, which she'd somehow put on his phone. The headphones were much more comfortable than the earbuds had been, although he wasn't sure where the name came from. How were they phones? But either way, they worked the same way, though they fit over his ears instead of in them, and he found that he quite enjoyed some of the music that Emma and Henry had given him.

Swan had shown him the music app, as it was called, and through trial and error one afternoon, he'd managed to figure out most of its functions. Now, as he lay back down and tried to relax, he pressed the icon that would randomize the songs, giving him a bit of a surprise every time one song ended and another began.

Most of the music that the two of them had selected for him was quite enjoyable, but some of it was not to his taste. He didn't have the heart to remove any songs from the list, in case Swan or Henry checked and saw, but he felt very little guilt in skipping them when they began to play. Such was the case for the first song that played, with heavy percussion and far too much synthetic nonsense.

The next song was the very first one he'd listened to, that day in Regina's office with Henry: "The Promise," performed by a musical group known as When in Rome. The lad had been right; once he'd gotten past his initial discomfort with the percussion, he found the song quite enjoyable. The lyrics reminded him of how he'd felt about Swan, after she'd kissed him and he'd begun to fall for her, and the music filled him with all the hope and determination he'd felt at the time.

He hadn't revealed to her what Henry had said, that she'd admitted she'd fallen for him long before she'd acted on those feelings, but knowing that filled him with some unknown emotion. He'd struggled to be honorable, to be good, to be heroic, and she'd seen that. She'd appreciated it. She hadn't discounted it. It had meant something to her.

He hoped that he could be a hero, and not just heroic. Swan seemed to think so, and Henry, too, but were they simply blinded by their affection for him? Snow White and David still seemed to think he would slip, that he would hurt their daughter by turning back to the darkness. They'd managed to do exactly that, and they didn't have half of the villainous history that he did. Would Swan be enough to keep him from failing?

The song ended, and the next began. It was a sea shanty, one that he hadn't known in the Enchanted Forest, but was recognizable as such all the same. He appreciated that Swan and Henry had thought to put a few shanties on the list, but he wished they hadn't. Shanties were work songs, and reminded him too much of his days as an indentured servant.

He honestly preferred the modern music on the list. The lyrics weren't always terribly deep, but there was usually some poetry to them. He enjoyed that the combination of melody and lyric could evoke different emotions, especially when the tune and lyrics contrasted each other.

The song ended, and the next began. Ah, this was one of his favorites: "Burning Love" sung by a person called Elvis. It was joyous and simple, and it always made him want to sweep Swan into his arms and kiss her senseless. Even now, he had a grin on his face thinking about his love for her.

He skipped the next song, "Octopus' Garden," which he hoped Henry had put on the list as a joke. On to the next song: "Sound of Silence," performed by two men, one with an absurd name.

It was a song that he typically enjoyed, one that didn't engage percussion that was too obnoxious, or any synthetic sounds, or screaming instead of singing. The singers harmonized, and the music built appropriately.

But tonight, alone on the Jolly Roger, with Swan far away and struggling with her own pain and sadness, the music left him feeling intensely lonely, reminding him of his own darkness and failures.

Was he a hero? Could he be one?

Would he always make the right decision? Could he, like Swan, always be selfless? What if he faltered, as Snow White and David had? Or as Rumplestiltskin had so many times? How many second chances did a villain get?

He recalled, with great clarity, how it had felt to threaten Ursula at gunpoint, how his anger had clouded his judgment, making it so easy to feel justified in his actions. How could he be sure of himself when he already struggled so much?

As the song ended, he sighed. Surely, Swan and Henry hadn't expected their musical selection to result in this level of introspection. At least the next song, "Don't Stop Me Now," was upbeat and energetic, the perfect song to wash away the melancholy that had settled in.

But later that night, he fell asleep with the "Sound of Silence" in his head, and his dreams were troubled.

I hope you enjoyed this series!

I am no longer posting stories to FFnet. For new stories, check out my page on AO3 (same username, phiralovesloki; there's a link in my profile as well).