It’s strange how a person thinks he wants one thing, but then it turns out that what he really wants is another. The whole bloody world just flips upsidedown and there is nowhere to go, nowhere to run and the truth is glaring and staring and demanding to be noticed.
Killian had wanted Emma, had lusted after her. It was a fun game, a pirate’s game. He had seen her as the prey and he would be the hunter and when he claimed her…well. Killian enjoyed winning and he enjoyed chasing – the thrill of the game, a pirate must live on those sorts of things or the whole ordeal of being one would become too cumbersome after a while.
But now it’s different. In the constant darkness of Pan’s island, where day and night are indistinguishable from one another, where the air is thick and hot and wet, there lingers and hides a truth, rustling between the branches, through the foliage.
And every time David says something stupid, every time he leaps into danger with the least regard for anything but being a hero, something stirs deep inside Killian, comes crawling from under the mangled roots of ancient trees, slithers through the mud and finds him, crawls deep inside him and he can no longer shake the feeling that something is very wrong and that what he wants isn’t what he wants anymore.
He keeps seeing the wrong things in Emma, finding the wrong lines of her face, the one’s that resemble David’s. He doesn’t know why, but he almost never sees her mother’s features, doesn’t care to see them. It’s a silly delusional thing, probably brought on by the heat and the lack of rest.
And what does he care about David anyway – he’s a blood fool.
Yet, he takes David up to the spring, hoping to save him, needing to save him. The rum that Pan gives him stings his lips and his mouth, smothering his already jumbled thoughts even more, confusing them so that he really has no idea what he wants anymore or why he is even here. David says that Killian is here because of Emma and Killian almost laughs because it’s funny that David would be so sure when even he isn’t sure of his own intentions and motives.
And then David collapses, leaving Killian to kneel on the path and cradle his broken form for several moments before he takes up the sword and hacks away at the Dreamshade. For that moment there is breathtaking shard of clarity, the lines of a bitter happiness outlined in the droplets of sweat sliding down David’s flushed cheeks. His lips are full and just as flushed, no longer curled into that contemptuous sneer and Killian licks his own lips, feeling his mouth suddenly go dry.
The barest ray of sun seems to peak through the trees before disappearing again. It lands on David’s face and glints off his sword.
And Killian knows what he wants, as insane as it might be, but for the first time in a very long time, he knows what he wants.