No Sound Without Silence

Chapter 2

I'll be honest. There's not much going on in this chapter. Just an idea of what Killian has been through in the first few parts of his journey. As for the Killian's house, it's based on "The Words" music video where he lives on his own somewhere far off the city.

I'll be adding -&- to indicate flashbacks so it's clear for some readers who are confused :)

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He woke up to the sound of his alarm. The screeching noise felt like needles prickling his brain.

Bloody thing, he groaned internally before rolling to his side and reaching for the blasted alarm clock. He laid back down and pulled the sheets over his eyes. How could he forget to turn that off again?

Then he remembered last night.

Suddenly all traces of sleep left his mind. Suddenly he was awake. Of course, what in the world could ever take his mind completely? A certain blonde woman who shines like the sun. A product of True Love, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. And, gods above, a siren in disguise.

Emma Swan.

Adorable. Alluring. Amazing. The list could go on since there was 25 other letters in the alphabet that could describe this woman. And this woman could and would never be his. Not anymore. He closed his eyes shut, muting out the voice in his head shouting her name, shutting off the images that flashed in his mind of her smile.

When he opened them again, he squinted at the sunlight peaking through the curtains. He was awake anyway and had no plans of sleeping again, so there was no point in staying in bed. It would just make him think of her and he wouldn't want that.

He stood up and stretched his arms. Stifling a yawn, he started making his bed, smoothing out the sheets and puffing his pillows. He headed towards the bathroom, wanting to feel the cold water rolling down his body, wanting the cold water to numb his body, his broken heart. He turned the heat up, throwing his head back to moan in pleasure. The sudden change in temperature sent his mind flying away from the person he didn't want to think of the most.

After, he padded along the wooden floor, walking past the quite spacious living room, too big for one person. In fact, the whole house was too big for one person. When he got to the kitchen, he decided to make himself a sandwich. It was an easy dish that was of this realm, easy enough for him to pick up and to experiment on his own. Plus, he didn't need any wood for that. He sat on the dining table and began eating his sandwich quietly while planning his day. He didn't have any work for the day so maybe he could go out with his friends. Or maybe stay at home and just relax.

He leaned back on his chair, putting the last chunk of the sandwich in his mouth. He sighed as he looked aroud the big space. It was certainly too big for him. Well, it wasn't even his to begin with. He sighed. Maybe he should start the day by cutting some wood then to fuel the stove for future use. He got up and picked up his axe leaning at the corner of the room by the door.

A wind of fresh air blew across him. The smell of morning and grass and flowers surrounding him while he work away with his axe. Just the things he needed to clear his mind. He swung the axe over his shoulder and headed towards the stump by the woods. He shook his head with a small smile. Lucky for him his stump was no more.

-&-

When he crossed the town line, it felt like his body had a mind of its own. It forced him to move, to walk on and never look back. He found he regained control of his body when he was a few good miles away from Storybrooke. And without a map or whatsoever, he absolutely had no idea how to get back to Storybrooke. All he could do was find shelter and food for himself to survive.

He walked and walked and walked. Nothing passed by. No vehicles or cars as they are called. No man. Nothing. He grew tired, so tired. Days passed. He didn't know how long. Yet judging by the way he felt, his head whirred in dizziness, his skin burned by the sun, his muscles moved with pain, his eyes drooped with sleep, his throat dried with thirst, his stomach grumbled in hunger, he knew he looked no better. Many times he wanted to stop. Many times he wanted to just sit down on the gravel road and just wait. Wait for his time to slowly pass by. His steps faltered as the road ahead of him stretched into a snake of gravel lined with emerald trees reaching towards the horizon. He wanted to stop but he couldn't. He just couldn't...

With every step he made, a voice inside him boomed.

You failed.

He failed everyone in his life.

He thought he had saved Liam. He thought everything was fine but he only made it worst. He listened to that devil Peter Pan about the cure to Dreamshade. Liam Jones died. And Killian Jones died on that same day, on that same ship. A fearsome pirate was born. A pirate who killed people and destroyed lives. A pirate with a bad form. Very bad form. It was only on this lonely journey that he realized he failed Liam.

Bad form for a pirate who stole someone else's wife. He didn't mind at that time. He was a pirate, after all. He had done far worse things than take someone's wife especially when the wife was willing to come with him. If he was strong enough to resist her, he wouldn't have his heart and his soul broken and shattered into pieces. He failed Milah the moment he invited her to join him.

He failed Emma.

He couldn't even protect her. He couldn't even fight the Snow Queen with her side by side. He lied to her saying they would find another way to beat the Snow queen together. He failed her because if he was strong enough Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't have gotten his heart. If he didn't make that deal with the Crocodile, maybe none of this would have happened. If only. If. Only.

He failed himself.

He couldn't stop walking. Somehow, even if he could move on his own, he felt this tugging at his heart urging him to move, urging him to walk on. He realized one day that it was a reminder from Gold. A reminder that he still had his heart. That day everything almost crumbled down. He thought that at least he had himself. That although he couldn't get back to Storybrooke, although he had no one anymore, he had himself. And knowing that he didn't have his heart hit him harder than he thought.

He felt like he was floating as his mind grew hazy. He couldn't think anymore. He couldn't blame Gold anymore. He couldn't blame himself anymore. The anger that grew into self-loathing floated out of his mind. All he could do was walk. Just walk with his shallow breaths and his sore muscles. He didn't know where he was heading to. His eyes searched for anything in the familiar stAretch of road in front of him that haunted him since he left Storybrooke.

Time that felt like hours passed by his weak state. He could feel his mind starting to pull him away, away from the light, away from the world. His shoulders grew heavy, his body grew tired, his legs grew stiff. His mind threatened to pull him over to the edge of the cliff and send him tumbling into darkness. The cold and soothing darkness with such peace and serenity.

With one last ounce of strength, he looked forward, towards the sky. Until he saw something. A house... no, a shop. And suddenly life washed over him like fresh air. For what seemed like the longest time, he felt energy coursing through his veins. He felt hope.

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