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The wind at the docks seemed to come and go in fickle spurts, at times nipping through Killian's leather jacket before dying back down to a light caress across his cheek. Whenever he could spare a moment in the day, he came to check on his ship. These days, those free moments were fewer and farther between. Even so, he managed to make it over to her at least once a week.
It was odd, forging time in his days to check in briefly on a ship that had been his home for centuries. Once in a while, he would linger, take up his old place at her helm and grasp the spokes of her wheel in his hand, or take his time swabbing the deck alone. It was cathartic work, despite the strain it earned his back, and he enjoyed caring for his ship with his own touch. Still, easier were the days when he had a whole crew at his disposal to take care of the more mundane chores. Henry was the only one who offered to help, or agreed to help when asked. Most of the time, the old pirate took care of it all, himself.
Today was one such day where he had come to spend some extra time alone on the Jolly Roger. When sailing regularly, deck swabbing was a daily occurrence. These days, with the ship sitting idly in the harbor, it was really only necessary after a storm, or a particularly choppy day when the waves could reach high enough to leave salt residue on the main deck. If he didn't get to it in time, within a day or so at most, the old wood would start to show extra wear, in spite of its enchanted state. This was not something Killian would allow.
As he strode across the docks, his ship looming before him, his mind was elsewhere, untethered and darting between memories. Dark circles stubbornly took up residence under his eyes, betraying to anyone who looked at him how little sleep he had been getting lately. Rest eluded him, and when it came, it was fitful. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see that face staring back at him.
"I swear on my son's life. I just want to get home to my family.”
There was a familiar twist in his gut.
Abruptly, a male voice called down from the Jolly Roger's deck, "I asked the harbor master which ship belonged to the infamous Captain Hook.”
Killian tensed, not recognizing the voice at first. He paused at the ship's loading ramp, raising his hand to shield his eyes as he squinted against the sun. Liam the second's smiling face came into view, and Killian relaxed visibly.
Liam's hair was tousled, the longer strands of it whipping into his face as the wind picked up, and he raised a hand and ran his fingers through it. He was leaning on the wooden rails of the ship facing the docks and offered his half-brother a small smile.
"He told me it was the 'old wooden one that looks like it's up to no good,'" Liam continued, still smirking. "Figured it was this one. Although, I was expecting darker sails."
Killian scaled the ship's boarding ramp in a few long, well-practiced strides. "Aye, you found her," he said. "Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, mate."
Liam chuckled appreciatively at the name, as if he hadn't been expecting the ship to be christened anything else. "A pirate through and through."
Killian gave a half shrug. "It was fitting at the time. Now I can't imagine her called anything else."
Liam nodded, letting his gaze drift back to the sea. He was still leaning on the railing, looking perfectly at ease, as if he had been there all afternoon. Which, Killian thought, was perfectly plausible. He wouldn't have put it past Liam to have investigated the entire ship from top to bottom already.
"Did you inspect her, then?" Killian asked. "Everything ready to sail?"
Liam gave a half smile, as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I found where you stash your mountain of rum barrels, if that's what you're wondering."
Killian laughed freely, shaking his head. "Not what I meant at all, mate. But, you're welcome to crack open a barrel anytime you see fit. What's mine is yours."
A thought hung in the air, unspoken by either of them. Killian's mind drifted immediately to their shared father and the fate that had befallen him, and Liam's jaw clenched just a fraction. He cleared his throat once and offered Killian a short, "Thanks."
They were silent for a minute, each staring out at the calm water of the Maine port. It was a calm day, with a brilliant, unobscured sun and only a whisper from the wind every now and again. It was a perfect day, it seemed, to investigate your long-lost half-brother's antique pirate ship.
After a while, Liam cleared his throat. They certainly hadn't fallen into the easy banter Killian and David now shared, but the fact that Liam had sought him out meant something. In a town as small as Storybrooke, it was virtually impossible to avoid someone forever, especially someone who attracted as much trouble as Killian seemed to. He knew they would run into each other eventually, but he was hardly expecting Liam to be the one to seek him out first, let alone appear unannounced on his ship. It was a pleasant surprise.
"So, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," Liam started.
"You're welcome here anytime," Killian said promptly, without a trace of false hospitality. He met Liam's gaze for a moment, the younger man's eyes searching his, before Liam offered a small smile and a nod.
"Thanks," Liam said, shifting a bit against the ship's rail. "I just thought I'd come by and thank you properly for taking care of our rooms, at the inn. Nemo and I... really appreciate it."
Before today, Killian hadn't seen his half brother since their shaky reconciliation and Liam's reunion with Nemo, but he had seen to it, with a copious amount of gold doubloons, that their stay at Granny's was covered indefinitely. It was the least he could do, and he said as much.
"It's the least I can do," Killian said. "I may not have held the knife, but Nemo was only injured because of me." His gaze flit to sea, scanning the horizon briefly before meeting his brother's eyes again. "Besides, I recall all too well being an outsider in this town. I'm still not fully acclimated to its many quirks, but at least I had my ship."
Liam turned, resting his back on the rail, and took a moment to survey the Jolly Roger's deck. "She really is something," he murmured. "They certainly don't make them like this anymore."
"Aye," Killian said, with more than a hint of pride.
The two brothers stood in silence again, and it seemed to be getting easier to do so. For his part, Killian had been thinking of Liam the second nearly as much as he thought of Liam the first.
Despite the looming threat of death that seemed to follow his true love like a shadow, and all the insanity that was Storybrooke on a weekly basis, his mind had been coming back to his younger brother nearly every day. Often, he wondered how he and Nemo were assimilating, how Nemo was healing. He assumed this was why he had yet to see either of them around town, with Liam surely taking care of Nemo at the inn.
After a minute, Killian felt Liam watching him. He shifted on the balls of his feet, not quite sure of what to say. This was the most time they had ever spent together alone without one of them throwing a punch or whipping out a knife. Perhaps they weren't ready for normal conversations, or standing in the same vicinity, for that matter.
His mind grasped for something else to say, returning empty-handed. Even innocuous comments on the weather evaded him. The sleepless nights were beginning to weigh on him, and his mind felt fogged, bogged down by the thoughts--memories--he couldn't seem to hold at bay, guilt contorting his stomach in constant knots.
"Are you okay?"
Killian jumped, jerked out of his wayward thoughts. Liam was staring at him, looking concerned.
Killian forced a smile. "Of course. Why do you ask?"
Liam frowned. “You look...” he started, lips pursing as he paused to think of the right word. “Well, you look terrible.”
Killian's mouth parted just slightly in surprise. “Terrible?”
Liam offered a somewhat sympathetic look. “Kind of, sorry. What I mean is, you look like you haven't slept... ever.”
Killian's mouth twitched up in a small smile before he looked away. “Aye. Truth be told, I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights.”
Liam nodded in understanding. He stayed quiet, eyes still trained on his elder half brother, clearly expecting more information.
Killian paused, faltering as he tried to think of a casual way to explain his situation to this particular person standing before him. “I... recently discovered something I did long ago came to greatly affect a close friend of mine.” It came out monotone and wooden, devoid of any real emotion, but it was all he could bring himself to say.
Liam chose that moment to make a most unfortunate attempt at a joke.
“Well,” he said wryly, “It's not like you killed his father or anything, right?”
Killian's stomach seized. He had wondered if the subject would ever be broached again between them, and if it was, how it would be handled. Liam, to his credit, was clearly trying to make light of the subject of Killian hurting his friend, suggesting it couldn't be as bad as some of the other sins of the pirate's past.
But, however difficult and admirable I might have been for Liam to gloss over his own pain to make Killian feel better about his current situation, he was wrong. Desperately, horrifyingly wrong.
Something about the devastated look that crossed onto Killian's features made Liam immediately apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he blurted, “I was just trying to... I shouldn't have brought it up. I wasn't...” He paused as Killian dipped his head forward just enough to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
Killian let out a shaky breath. The meager hours of sleep he had been able to steal over the past few nights could have been counted on his one hand, and it was beginning to catch up to him. He leaned back against the rail of his ship, abruptly needing the support as his knees went numb.
Liam watched him nervously, hesitant to say anything else. When Killian finally looked back up at him, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“That's exactly what I did, Liam.”
Liam's mouth dropped open and he stilled, gaping openly at his brother. “You... you what?”
Killian held his gaze as he ground out the words, “I killed David's father. Nearly sixty years ago, if memory serves.”
Unable to stop himself, Liam took an automatic step back. “But how...?”
“He was tied to a cart, about to be executed by the king's men,” Killian started, matter-of-factly. “I intervened, intent on stealing their gold. It's what pirates do, after all.” He gave a bitter, humorless little laugh and went on. “And despite how he begged me to let him live so he could go home to his boy, I ran my sword through his chest and killed him. Couldn't leave any loose ends to trace back to Pan.”
The soured regret in his tone was palpable, and Killian let out another measured, shaky breath to try to calm himself. His hand was shaking now as it too started to grow numb, and he clenched it into a fist at his side.
Horror seeped onto Liam's face, raw and unmasked.
Killian pushed off the rail abruptly and began to pace the length of the deck, trying to regain the feeling in his legs. Liam continued to stare, his eyes tracking him.
After a moment, Liam cleared his throat and asked, “And David is...?”
Killian paused and held up his hook, as one might hold up a hand to tell someone to wait. “That's the best bloody part, isn't it? Of course, this man was the grandfather of the woman I love. The woman I wish to make my wife. Because no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do to try to redeem myself, it seems I'll never quite live down the exploits of Captain bloody Hook.” His eyes had a wild edge to them, and the dark circles cradling them made him look more than a little crazed.
Liam, possibly fearing his brother was seconds away from throwing himself off the side of the ship to drown, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Killian's shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, “Slow down, okay?”
Killian grunted softly.
“Come on,” Liam said, “Let's talk some more over a drink, all right? I know where the captain keeps the rum.”
Killian laughed at that. Despite how appreciative he was of his brother's attempt to help, he knew he sounded maniacal, and he desperately needed to relax before he lost it completely.
With a nod, he strode over to the hatch and dipped below deck. Liam hesitated, unsure if he should follow, but Killian was surprisingly quick, and when he returned after a few minutes, it was with two full flasks in hand.
Liam grasped one and immediately took a swig of the rum, clearly needing it to continue this particular conversation. It burned his throat, and he sputtered. “Sorry,” he breathed, laughing a bit at his own intolerance for the drink. “Nemo always preferred to stock wine.”
Killian had cut his flask's content in half by the time Liam finished speaking. “I'm sorry, Liam,” Killian said quietly. “You're the last person I wanted to know about this.”
Liam kept watching him, unsure of what to say.
“The fact that you're standing here, on my ship, is more than I ever could have hoped for from you,” Killian admitted.
They stood there in silence again, each taking the occasional sip from his flask.
“I came here to swab the deck,” Killian said dully, squinting up at the sky.
“I'll help you,” Liam offered without hesitation.
Killian shook his head. “Not necessary, mate.”
“Two are faster than one,” Liam reminded.
“Aye,” Killian conceded with a sigh. “That they are.”
+++
They worked in silence, each having started at the opposite end of the ship, aiming to meet in the middle. While he was begrudging to accept it, Killian was grateful for the help. His movements were slow, exhaustion weighing him down like an anchor, and he took the occasional break to stretch out his shoulders. Along the way, he made mental notes of the areas that needed more attentive cleaning. He and Liam each held mops, ideal for swabbing the majority of the deck. The nooks and crannies he would attend to himself, later.
Eventually, the two brothers neared each other again. Liam reached the center first and paused, leaning on his mop, watching Killian.
“Why did you do it?”
Killian stopped, looking up at his brother. Neither of them had spoken in near an hour, and it took him a moment to register Liam's question.
“Why'd I do what?”
“Kill our father.”
The breath shot out of his lungs as if he had been punched. Liam's gaze was unwavering as he watched him, awaiting a response. Killian reached for his flask and took a swig, reveling in the burn for a moment.
“Are you sure you want to have this conversation?” Killian asked, his voice rough.
Liam shrugged, his eyes narrowing. “Humor me.”
Killian fell silent. He had shared his sordid tale before; most of his family knew the details by now. Regina, of course, had known he had killed his father. He had confessed to Emma and Henry, adding in the details about his brother after the events on the Nautilus. It wasn't an easy subject, to be sure, but he had spoken of it before. Just not to Liam.
“You need to understand,” he began slowly, searching carefully for his next words, “That my relationship with our father was very different than the one you had with him.”
Liam scoffed quietly, almost inaudibly. “Yeah,” he said sardonically, “I figured as much when I found out you killed him.”
Killian gave a short nod. Words escaped him once again. He grappled with the events in his mind, struggling to find a proper explanation to fit them. How was he supposed to tell his younger brother—a man whose devotion to his lost father had driven him within an inch of murder—that Brennan Jones had sold his two sons into a life of slavery to save his own hide?
Killian was silent for too long and Liam cleared his throat expectantly, growing impatient.
“Brennan needed to escape the law,” Killian started, “And so he left us behind.”
“Us?” Liam asked.
Killian cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Yes, my brother and I. My older brother, then my only brother, Liam.”
Killian looked up at him then, and their eyes met. Confusion flooded Liam's eyes.
“Our father named you after his eldest son, Liam the first,” Killian supplied helpfully.
Liam was quiet for a moment before he murmured, “Liam... is he...?”
Killian nodded. “Dead, yes. For a long time now.” A mournful silence fell over him, as often happened when he spoke of his older brother. His gaze drifted out to the ocean.
“So, he just left you, then?”
Killian glanced back to his brother. “Aye,” he said carefully.
“The man I knew would never do that.”
Killian ground his teeth together, his jaw flexing. “Perhaps,” he said without conviction.
“Then what happened?” Liam asked.
“We grew up on slaves ships,” Killian said bluntly. He had been trying to avoid painting their father as a villain, but with Liam's pressing questions, there was only so much he could dance around and avoid.
Liam's jaw dropped open. “He sold you into servitude?”
“He did,” Killian said, and his eyes flit back to the sea. “Liam looked after me, practically raised me. We joined the royal navy, acquiring the very ship you're standing on.”
Liam's brows raised at that, and he glanced around the ship again, as if seeing it for the first time.
“Liam was killed in Neverland,” Killian said with unbridled bitterness, “On a fool's errand from a king I vowed to issue justice to. And so the Jewel of the Realm became the Jolly Roger.”
Liam's gaze fell back to Killian, and there was something new held in his blue eyes. Not quite pity, but something close. The hardness in his expression had softened somewhat.
Killian swallowed uncomfortably and continued. “When I met our father again, I was working for the Evil Queen. Killing our father was a test, to see if I had the mettle for what she had in mind.”
“I don't understand,” Liam said, befuddled. “My father wasn't old enough to--”
Killian intervened, sensing where he was going, “Sleeping curse, apparently right after he left my brother and I. As I was told, he was awoken by his nurse, your mother.”
It clicked, and Liam nodded. “Right. I've heard the story. Many times. It was his favorite to tell.”
Killian wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he simply continued. “I met him in a pub where he worked, as arranged for by the queen. I waited until closing, till I was the only one left in the bar.” Liam tensed at this, as if he expected this to be the moment his father had been killed. Killian watched him for a moment before he went on.
“I couldn't do it. Not then. He told me how much he had regretted what he'd done to us, how he was a changed man.” His tone had dipped low, and it was clear even then he didn't believe a word of it. “I decided to let him go, offered him passage on my ship. Then he told me of you.”
Killian's eyes shot up to Liam's. “That night, I came to your home, waited outside while he tucked you into bed. You looked like my Liam,” he said, and a small, fond smile upturned his mouth. “Even then, I could tell you were my brother.”
A gull called overhead, squawking down at them from its perch on the crow's nest of the ship. Liam turned his head to look at it as Killian reached for his flask again. They both knew what was coming next. Finding his father dead in their yard was a sight branded onto Liam's memory forever, and he shifted in his stance uncomfortably as Killian continued.
“I overheard him tucking you into bed,” Killian went on, and a crack in his voice betrayed him halfway through. He looked away, clearing his throat. “It was... strikingly similar to the last words he said to me, as a boy.”
“Before he abandoned you,” Liam said, understanding dawning.
“Aye,” Killian sighed. “It was then I heard your name for the first time.” He looked up, hesitantly meeting his eyes. “That was just too much for me.”
Liam swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. “I didn't know.”
Killian gave a half-shrug. “I don't expect pity. The events of the past have haunted me for decades, and our father is no exception.” He grew quiet as he took a moment to cap his flask and slipped it inside the inner pocket of his jacket. “I don't deserve sympathy and I certainly don't deserve forgiveness for the things I've put you through, Liam.”
“When I found out,” Liam said slowly, “I wanted to run you through with my knife... with our father's knife, actually. It was his. I kept it. I thought that would be just, you know? Fair retribution.” He shook his head and stepped over to a cargo box on the side of the deck, leaning his mop against it. Killian watched him. “It's not right, what you did,” Liam said bluntly. “And you can't make up for it.”
“I know.”
“But you didn't ruin my life,” Liam added. Killian quirked a brow, and he continued. “If I hadn't lost my father, I wouldn't have joined the crew of the Nautilus. I never would have met Nemo. He's been a father to me, too. It's hard to imagine my life without him.”
Killian gave a small, understanding smile. “I know the feeling.”
A thoughtful look crossed onto Liam's features, and he sized Killian up for a moment. “You're not the same man, you know.”
Killian looked at him curiously.
Liam shrugged. “I can tell that much. You're not the same pirate we took on board the Nautilus all those years ago.”
Killian smiled at this, letting the words sink in. He had heard them before, of course, in some manner or another, and he liked to believe they were true, but they felt unique coming from this particular man.
“He'll forgive you, you know.”
Killian looked up sharply. “What?”
“David,” Liam continued, “David is going to forgive you.”
Despite himself, tears pricked his eyes, and Killian blinked to keep them at bay. He wanted to protest, claim his insecurities, but the words didn't come, obstructed as his throat grew tight.
“You may not deserve it,” Liam added, “But then again, that really isn't up to you, is it?”
Killian exhaled, slow and controlled, through his nose. I don't deserve it, he thought desperately, and while the words wouldn't come, the thought was as plain on his face as if he'd written it there in ink.
“Nemo forgave me,” Liam murmured, just loud enough for Killian to hear. “And I know it's different,” he added before Killian could say anything, “But his forgiveness, it... it's changed me. For good.”
That was a sentiment Killian agreed with wholeheartedly. It took him few minutes to compose himself. While the tears never dropped from his eyes, they were stubborn, his vision blurred as he finished swabbing his half of the deck. Liam took a seat on one of the larger cargo boxes, watching him and taking small, hesitant sips from his flask every now and again.
When he finished, Killian took both their mops, wrung them out over the bucket, and stowed them away.
“Maybe next time you could have some wine on hand,” Liam said when he returned. “Or champagne.”
Killian's heart swelled at the words “next time” and he stood a little straighter as he shot Liam a grin. “Deal. Although, we have plenty at the house, if you and Captain Nemo are ever available for dinner.”
Liam paused, his eyes trained on something in the distance, and Killian was just about to brush the offer aside when Liam turned and offered a genuine, albeit small, smile. “I'd like that,” he said. “I know Nemo would, too.”
“It would be a welcome reprieve from Granny's lasagna, I'm sure,” Killian said, shooting him a wink.
Liam didn't stay much longer, and Killian had the feeling he was still processing all he had learned about their father. It didn't make Brennan's death easier, but something between the brothers had shifted.
Liam asked about Henry, and Killian was quick to regale him with the latest adventure in Henry starting driver's training. “Will he be there?” Liam asked. “If I came for dinner?”
“Aye,” Killian said fondly. “He stays with Emma and I about every other week, to include weekends.”
Liam nodded. “I'd like to come a night he's there, if that's all right. The last time he saw me, I was about to slit your throat, so...”
Killian chuckled lowly. “Right. Perhaps a make up meeting is in order.”
“I think so,” Liam agreed with a wry smile. They looked at each other, each feeling slightly awkward as they thought of the best way to say goodbye. Liam eventually extended his hand, shaking Killian's firmly, and the pirate's heart bloomed with joy in his chest.
Killian watched him leave, and once Liam was out of sight, he pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket. He popped it open with his hook, and the two-karat diamond gleamed brilliantly as the sunlight hit it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, mulling over everything his half-brother had told him. If forgiveness was attainable, despite his doubts, he had to begin somewhere. The truth seemed a good place to start.