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piracytheorist · 5 years

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Reunion

Summary: Killian takes his wife and daughter to the place where he grew up, and has them meet someone special.

Note: This is a sequel to an earlier fic of mine, A Resting Place, but it can be read on its own.

I wanted to write this sequel for some time, and some recent comments on my fics inspired a bit of brainstorming, so it finally happened :D

If a face helps (and you don’t already know), I've fancasted Eleanor Tomlinson, as she appears in the show Poldark, as Mama Jones ;)

~ AO3 Word count: ~3.3k ~

Killian hadn't stopped feeling his heart at his throat from the moment he'd left Storybrooke with his wife and daughter. They both understood his silence; one more reason it was a good decision to wait until Hope was older to do this trip. Some even had said she was still too young; maybe wait a little longer so she'd remember more clearly.

Tell that to her, though. The promise of meeting her paternal grandmother hadn't left her mind, it seemed, from the moment her Fairy Godmother had given her a small bottle of Ale of Seonaidh for her sixth birthday.

“Remember, it can only be used once,” the fairy had told them, trusting them with the rare item.

Killian and Emma had shared one look and immediately known where they could use it. Still, they'd asked their still too young daughter at the time, who, after brushing her hand through her wild locks, she'd replied, simply, “Grandma.”

Killian had happily cried to sleep that night.

And now, four years later, Hope was about to claim the birthday gift she hadn't stopped asking since then.

“Are you ready?” Emma asked, wrapping her hand around his left arm.

He nodded, finally tearing his eyes away from the calming view of the sea to face the familiar uphill with the equally familiar oak tree at the top. He turned a little to look at his daughter and smiled at her, feeling his heart a bit lighter once she took his hand in hers.

He wanted to say something, anything, even a simple 'Let's go'. But the lump in his throat was too thick for him to risk bursting in sobs on the spot.

So he simply started walking forward, his family by his side.

The state of the oak tree alone nearly made him run away. It seemed to be at the end of its life span, if the decay on its bark and upturned roots was any indication. He sighed deeply.

“What is it?” Hope asked.

“That tree has been here since I was a child,” he said softly. “Me and Liam and other kids from the village used to play on it and around it.” He looked at the village, slowly starting to grow life again. “It watched as the village flourished, then died, then grew back again.” He softly slipped his hand from his daughter's to reach and touch the bark. Flakes fell from it as he did. “We hadn't named it anything. We always called it 'the tree' because it was the biggest one around. And the only one that was one of its kind, too.” He turned to look at Hope, sensing her overactive feet. “Would you like to climb it, love?”

Her jaw fell slightly, and she turned to her mother, who said, “I don't think it'll hold her.”

“That low branch seems strong enough,” Hope said with the smirk she'd no doubt inherited from him.

Killian looked at Emma, and there must have been something in his look that made her shrug. He felt the smile tug at his lips as he turned to help an equally smiling Hope climb up on a sturdy-looking branch. She grunted as she struggled to find footing on it, and he said, “Come on, love, I used to climb that when I was even younger than you.”

“Yeah, but could you dance a perfect floss?” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

He laughed softly, thinking of her trying to fit that dance in the rhythm of every song she heard.

“Hey, look over here,” Emma said, her phone raised for a picture.

“Take a selfie!” Hope said, finally sitting steadily on the branch.

“No. That's a 'Like father, like daughter' moment,” she said. “We can take plenty with Grandma later.”

The thought finally hit Killian as he smiled for the picture. It had crossed his mind before, but they'd never actually discussed it.

Hoping, of course, that the magic would not somehow make her invisible to the digital lens... he would finally have pictures of his mother. One time, a night after Hope had nearly screamed asking to meet her, Killian had confessed to Emma that he could barely remember his mother's face. He had no sketch of her, and by the time he'd felt confident enough he could make a good enough portrait of someone, most details of her face had been eluding him. He was sure she had bright eyes, probably blue like him and Liam, and red hair... but that was it.

And now he'd finally have a complete picture of her.

“Hey, you okay?” he heard Emma say.

His head snapped up. “What?”

“You seemed a bit lost in thought. Are you okay?”

Emma's look of worry was even more explained by how Hope seemed to have climbed down from the tree on her own, without him even noticing.

“Aye,” he said softly, then turned back to the tree to touch it one last time. “Thank you,” he whispered to it. He allowed one fleeting moment of wondering what earth magic could do for the tree that was the only reminder of his childhood innocence, then focused back on the present, took his hand away and stepped back, feeling this moment as a true farewell. “Let's go,” he said, taking his wife and daughter by arm and hand respectively, then turning towards the village.

That place was certainly nothing like he remembered. It appeared that, a century or so after his previous visit people had started to rebuild the village, settling down there once again, giving life to a place that had lost it too abruptly.

The buildings were different; the people were different; hell, even the smell was different, and he felt the lump form again at the thought that he'd probably never relive that again. But it was a small loss considering what this journey would provide.

Unfazed by their Storybrooke clothing, the villagers simply went about their business as the family walked down the main – and probably only – street. It appeared that the new buildings were built just where the old ones used to be, so knowing the structure hadn't changed much, he stopped automatically in front of a lot that held a humble, sturdy house.

“My home used to be here,” he said. “Last time I came it had been completely destroyed, there was nothing left.” He looked at the new house, trying to smile through the complete lack of recognition at anything. The building, the garden, the earth itself looked completely unfamiliar. “I'm happy it's housing another family now, at least.”

His girls said nothing, and he appreciated that as he turned forward. He swallowed hard and focused on the sight of the graveyard far ahead. He looked first at Emma, then at Hope, then walked on.

The new villagers had cleared the path, fixing a whole new dirt road going directly to the graveyard.

“Isn't it a bit creepy?” Hope asked. “That the cemetery is right there for everyone in the village to see?”

“There used to be an orchard here, between the village and the graveyard. We had to take a small detour around the trees to reach it,” Killian said and sighed. “Maybe the new villagers are more comfortable thinking of their loved ones resting in a place closer to them.” He looked at Hope, and seeing the uneasy look on her face, he added, “Different people have different customs, even when dealing with their dead. You won't believe some stories I have from far off places.”

“Maybe later,” Emma said. “We have a very special way of dealing with the dead right now.”

He nodded, once again feeling a pang of guilt wondering who would gain more from Hope's gift, she or him.

There were two graveyards, after all, distinct by the look on the stones. One of them seemed to have older stones, with some of them cracked and moss growing around them, the other one had newer, cleaner stones.

He stopped to look at the entrance of the older graveyard, focusing on the touch from his family. He wasn't alone anymore. And he hadn't come here to mourn this time.

He was here to see his mother again.

“Do you know where she lies?” Emma asked. “Should we split up?”

He tightened his hand around Hope's, feeling her anticipation through her nervous hand. “No,” he said softly. He needed them both now.

He let his faint but stubborn memory lead him to the stone. The engraved letters were nearly gone, a 'Jone' being the only indication of a name, but the word 'mother' still stood complete, as if the force of her love for her sons had seeped into the very stone.

“Killian,” he heard Emma say and felt her hand leading his head to rest on her shoulder, which was when he realized he was crying.

Taking in a gasping breath, he leaned into her touch as Hope moved to wrap her arms around both of them. They stayed hugged together until his breathing slowed down and his tears stopped. He cleared his throat and moved to break the embrace.

“Do you need a moment?”

He shook his head. They'd wasted enough time already, and he couldn't care less about having red eyes in the pictures. He wanted to see his mama again, and he wanted her to meet the granddaughter who had inherited her wit and hair.

“Let's do this.”

Mother and father turned to look at their daughter, who, without letting go of her father's hand, took out the small, precious bottle from her satchel and undid the cap. She looked at them, her smile widening, then faced the stone and poured the ale on the ground in front of it.

He felt as if all three were holding their breaths together. They knew it usually took a moment, before anything happened, so he tried to-

Hope gasped when a thick cloud of magic started spreading from the ground nearly up to his height. It only took a moment for it to take the form of a person, then finally morphing into a woman.

She wore a brown dress with flowers embroidered on the corset. Her red hair was done half up, the rest blowing with the wind. Her blue eyes focused on him.

And she was smiling.

She turned to look at Hope. “Happy birthday, my sweet girl,” she said.

Hope's hand slipped from his as she ran to her grandmother, who leaned down so that Hope could wrap her arms around her neck, and held her tight. “Hi, Grandma,” she said, her voice betraying a wide smile. She squeezed her a bit then pulled away, allowing them a good look at each other.

She didn't say anything else; she simply ran her hands thought Hope's hair, so unexpectedly similar to hers, and Hope giggled, touching her grandmother's locks as well.

Then Hope turned back, flashing their huge smile at her parents, and stepped back, giving Killian a clean path towards his mother.

She stood tall, tears in her eyes. Her beautiful, caring eyes. “M'boy,” she whispered.

He didn't feel his legs bring him to her. He only saw her come close, felt her arms around him, her hair surrounded his view and he finally remembered to breathe.

Tears and sobs came together as the sweetest scent entered his nostrils; hers. He heard her softly shush at him, he felt her hand brush through his hair and her feet rock them a bit left and right and she felt too small, too lean, why couldn't her hands wrap him whole like the last time he remembered smelling her scent?

“Killian,” she said, pulling away to look at him.

His tears were flowing freely, he could barely see her through the haze now. “Mama,” he said shakily. “I'm- I'm sorry.”

“No, no, love. There's nothing to feel sorry about.”

“I- I- You don't know.”

“I know everything,” she said and used her fingers to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

He froze. “Everything?”

“I was watching over you. All this time. I know.”

“And you...”

“I'm proud, Killian. I'm so proud of the man you've become. I'm proud of your family, of the life you've built...”

His vision finally cleared. She was smiling wide at him, tears of her own staining her cheeks.

“But...” he started.

She shook her head. “No. I've told you. I am so proud of you.”

She raised on her toes to leave a kiss on his forehead, and that nearly brought him to his knees.

She then pulled back a little, and looked into his eyes. “Are you alright? Can I hug my daughter-in-law now?”

A mix of a laugh and a sob escaped him, and he nodded, but couldn't step away. Closing her eyes, his mama unwillingly stepped back, and Hope was quick to wrap her arms around his waist, quickly covering for the emptiness he felt at the lack of touch.

His mama turned to his wife. “Emma,” she said and hugged her as well.

Emma laughed softly, crying as well. “I'm so glad to see you,” she said in a shaky voice.

“No, love,” his mama said, moving back. “I'm proud to meet you. You made my son believe in himself again. You pulled him out of the darkness in which I suffered with him. You've given this old soul a solace she was worried she'd never get, even after moving on.” She then raised on her toes again to leave a kiss on Emma's forehead. “Thank you.”

Emma sobbed softly, and pulled her hand back to wipe at her face, as his mama turned to look at him and Hope, still hugged together. “Now,” his mother said, “I believe pictures were promised?”

“You know about that too?” Hope asked, running to her side.

“Of course. Did you think I wouldn't be excited for a portrait with my family?”

“But, when you... go...” Killian started.

She winked at him. “Have the pictures taken and I have my way of getting a copy.”

Hearing her use modern terms surprised him as much as seeing her the way he remembered her. He faintly watched as she posed with Hope, memories coming by as if he was reliving them all over. Playing in the garden; sitting by the fire, drying up after an evening swim while food was being prepared; her leaning over him on the bed, singing him to sleep...

And then she was right next to him, and without a word they both turned to face Emma, her phone's camera pointed at them, and none even bothered to hide their tears.

Then it was Emma's turn, then the whole group's, and Killian couldn't stop thinking of his last thought.

“Thank you, Hope,” his mama said and kissed Hope's cheek. “Thank you, Emma.” She hugged her tight, wiping away Emma's tears. “And thank you, m'boy.” She hugged him too. “I'm so proud of you.” Then she whispered in his ear, “And as your daughter would say, fyi, I've met my other self and she wants to meet her namesake. Don't let the poor woman wait until that stubborn survivor son of hers decides to die, aye?”

Killian laughed, knowing she was speaking for herself too. Emma and Hope joined them in a group hug, and Killian was certain he had never felt happier. Only one thing was missing.

“Can you sing, mama?” he said softly.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds. Then the sweetest sound from his childhood filled his ears.

My young love said to me My mother won't mind And my father won't slight you For your lack of kind Then she turned away from me And this she did say Oh, it won't be long, love Till our wedding day

Right after her last note, as if on cue, he felt the arms around him and the body pressed against his turn into nothing. His arms fell, but Emma and Hope quickly hugged him tighter, following him when he knelt on the ground.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

But it was something, more than he could ever have hoped for.

They didn't speak, and he didn't cry aside from the tears that fell as he replayed the last moments in his mind over and over again.

“Killian,” Emma said, “do you want to see?”

He sniffled and finally opened his eyes. Emma smiled at him, tears also staining her cheeks, and she offered her phone. Hope let go of his good arm so he could take the phone and look at the pictures.

He laughed at their messy faces; red eyes and tear stains were visible in every photo... as were their smiles. Emma had even taken pictures when Killian had no idea, like the first hug between grandmother and granddaughter, hug between mother and son, mother kissing son's forehead...

On one picture Emma brought her fingers to the screen and zoomed in on his mama's corset. “Check out those flowers, Hope. I guess we know now where your papa got his love for floral, huh?”

They all laughed together, then Hope swiped down so that her face was in center. “She was so beautiful... I mean, is...”

Emma snorted. “Well that's definitely not something your papa got from her,” she said, making the other two laugh again.

“I loved meeting her,” Hope said after a pause.

“Me too,” Emma said. “And she was so proud and happy to see you, Killian. Finally meeting the family she could only watch from afar.”

“Aye. I'm glad to know she will be there with us, in a way.”

They stayed there, for a few silent moments, when the breeze was getting too cold and Hope shivered against him.

He rubbed his hand against her back and kissed her hair. “Thank you for doing this, love.”

Hope shrugged. “I wanted to see her too.”

He looked at her and smiled, then kissed her hair again. “Come on, let's go.”

“Can we stop at the old tree again?” Hope said enthusiastically, hopping to her feet.

Killian and Emma nodded, and let their daughter walk to the gate, taking their time to get up and look at the stone one last time.

“You know,” Emma said, “I acted on a whim, and when you asked your mother to sing, I... I recorded it.”

He felt his eyebrows raise up. “You did?”

She nodded. “I don't know how it'll sound, but-”

He quickly leaned forward and caught her lips in a deep kiss. “Thank you,” he said when they pulled apart.

“I thought that's what the kiss was for,” she said and breathed a laugh against his lips. She leaned back and looked at him, her eyes still red. He didn't dare imagine how his eyes must be like now. “You want a moment?” she said.

He simply nodded, and she left a quick kiss on his lips, then turned to join their daughter, who was happily picking up flowers that grew outside the gate.

He looked at the stone, for the first time not feeling the immediate need to put flowers on it. He touched it, and through the remains of the letters, he imagined the complete epigraph:

Alice Jones Beloved wife and mother

He knew he didn't need a stone, and that his mama didn't need flowers.

He knew this moment would be all they needed in their hearts.

“Until we meet again, mama.”

His heart feeling lighter than any other time he'd visited that place, he turned to his wife and daughter, his very own future.

Note: I want to say that I have a few reservations with writing those three, because I just can't believe that two people like Emma and Killian, with their past, wouldn't adopt once their life became stable. Like I literally find it ooc for them to not adopt. But I'm not sure I'm interested in writing and handling a big family fic, since my focus on my stories is, admittedly, Killian's feelings (and angst!). Of course there can be a lot of feelings and angst in a big family fic, but here I'd have had to choose between writing a) a big family meeting Grandma Alice and the adopted kids being background characters, which wouldn't be fair to them, or b) making the big family the theme of the story, something that would veer away from the actual theme I aimed for.

But now that I think about it, I may just well write a whole new fic about the kids Emma and Killian adopt after (and maybe even before? Who cares about canon) Hope's birth, and develop them as original characters. We'll see.

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #kj ff #cs ff #Hope Swan Jones #piracytheorist writes

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dalekofchaos · 7 years

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My problem with Stanley Kubrick’s version of The Shining and why it deserves to be remade

I have a love and hate relationship when it comesto Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. To be clear I do not completely hate it. The atmosphere, the location and aesthetic of The Overlook Hotel and the cinematography of the Kubrick movie is what makes it good and I love it as a horror movie. What makes it bad is calling itself an adaptation of Stephen King’s The Shining but ignoring everything about the book, completely changing the characters and overall butchering the story just to stroke Kubrick’s inflated ego. I think it deserves a good remake that is true to the novel but taking the aspects of the Kubrick movie such as the atmosphere of The Overlook Hotel but staying true to the characters and story of the novel. I did my fancast here. I like the movie and appreciate it for what it is. I just think it's a failure as an adaptation. It stands on its own very well and deserves its spot on all-time top movie lists.

In Stephen King’s own words. “The book is hot, and the movie is cold; the book ends in fire, and the movie in ice. In the book, there’s an actual arc where you see this guy, Jack Torrance, trying to be good, and little by little he moves over to this place where he’s crazy. And as far as I was concerned, when I saw the movie, Jack was crazy from the first scene. I had to keep my mouth shut at the time. It was a screening, and Nicholson was there. But I’m thinking to myself the minute he’s on the screen, ‘Oh, I know this guy. I’ve seen him in five motorcycle movies, where Jack Nicholson played the same part.’ And it’s so misogynistic. I mean, Wendy Torrance is just presented as this sort of screaming dishrag. But that’s just me, that’s the way I am.”

Stanley Kubrick didn’t respect Stephen King. According to Diane Johnson, the credited screenwriter of THE SHINING, Kubrick was at one point contemplating two different properties at the same time—Stephen King’s novel The Shining and Johnson’s own novel The Shadow Knows. Kubrick chose King’s novel… then hired Johnson to adapt it. King had already written a screenplay based on his novel, but Kubrick reportedly discarded it immediately. Johnson accepted the job, but not without reservations. In a 2011 interview with Mark Steensland, she conceded that she was “not a big Stephen King fan,” or even a “big horror story fan.” Furthermore, she thought that THE SHINING novel was “pretentious” and “predictable.” Not exactly an auspicious beginning.

The aspects of the supernatural are completely ignored. There are ghosts and The Overlook Hotel is a living entity. The motivation of the ghosts is to possess Jack Torrance to get him to kill Danny; if Danny dies in the Overlook, his "shining" ability will be absorbed along with all the other awful energies that are manifest there; the hotel itself is a sentient entity and so would become far more powerful and able to extend its powers beyond the confines of its grounds. The motive is more ambiguous but seems to be to "reclaim" Jack , who is apparently a reincarnation of a previous caretaker of the hotel, as suggested by the 1920s photograph of Jack and Jack's repeated claims to have "not just a deja vu".

Kubrick did not understand the character of Jack Torrance. King objected to the casting of Jack Nicholson. Jack Torrance in the novel is a good man who made a terrible mistake due to his alcoholism and struggles with being a good man and being good to his family, while Jack struggles with alcoholism and authority issues and the Overlook Hotel slowly drives Jack insane. In King’s own words “The character of Jack Torrance has no arc in that movie. Absolutely no arc at all. When we first see Jack Nicholson, he’s in the office of Mr. Ullman, the manager of the hotel, and you know, then, he’s crazy as a shit house rat. All he does is get crazier. In the book, he’s a guy who’s struggling with his sanity and finally loses it. To me, that’s a tragedy. In the movie, there’s no tragedy because there’s no real change.” With Nicholson as Jack Torrance, Jack is crazy from the beginning of the movie, doesn’t even seem to like his family and is annoyed by their mere presence. King fought against Nicholson because he’s seen him in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest and Nicholson pretty much plays the same character in every movie and did not fit the character King created. The casting of Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance undermined the moral struggle at the heart of the story. King reportedly tried to get the filmmakers to consider Robert Duvall, Robert De Niro, Jon Voight and Martin Sheen as alternatives to Nicholson. Hell, a friend of mine suggested Christopher Reeve as a good choice to play Jack Torrance and he damn well would have been perfect to play Jack Torrance. But Kubrick’s mind was made up… because, it seems, Kubrick wanted Jack Torrance to be “nuts to begin with.” The filmmaker said, “Jack comes to the hotel psychologically prepared to do its murderous bidding. He doesn’t have much further to go from his anger and frustration to become completely uncontrollable. He is bitter about his failure as a writer. He is married to a woman with whom he has only contempt. He hates his son….” For King, those were fighting words. Especially since The Shining ends with Jack sacrificing himself to save Wendy and Danny and explodes with the Overlook/

The casting, the horrid treatment and portrayal of Shelly Duvall as Wendy Torrance. In his 1979 interview with Fangoria, King claimed that he saw Wendy Torrance as “a kind of middle-intelligence, beautiful piece.” Stanley Kubrick, however, had a different idea. He told Soho News, “I think Shelley Duvall, in addition to being a wonderful actress, perfectly embodied the kind of woman who remains married to a man like Jack Torrance, even though she knows he has brutally assaulted their son. You certainly couldn’t have Jane Fonda play the part; you need someone who is mousy and vulnerable.” not only that, but Kubrick decided to mentally and emotionally torture Shelly Duvall on set. Apparently, he was determined to help get her into character by browbeating her like an abusive husband. King’s character would have fought back. Hell I JUST found out that the Supreme Jessica Lange ALMOST played Wendy Torrance and god that would have been perfect, not only would she have been absolutely perfect to play Wendy, but she would not take Kubrick’s bullshit.

Dick Hollarann. In the book. Danny's shine tell him that he is known as Dick to his friends. Dick also asks Danny if he wants to go to Florida with him multiple times. Danny asks why the woman wanted to get in the car guy's pants. The conversation when Dick explains the shining takes place in his car, and he tests Danny to see how strong his shine is. Also Dick is very friendly and kind to Danny. Dick in the movie. Dick asks Danny if he wants some Ice Cream. Dick explains the shining in the kitchen and is not very kind to Danny. In the book Dick Hollarann was meant to live. Danny contacted Dick with his shining to save them. He is knocked out by Jack. He rescues Wendy and Danny and goes on to be Danny’s father figure and a positive influence on Danny in Doctor Sleep. In the movie Dick is brought back to the Overlook and killed for no reason. I honestly would be fine with the movie if Dick lived.

The ending. In the ending of the novel. Jack does not kill Dick Hollarann, just knocks him out. He doesn’t kill anyone. The boiler must be dumped several times a day or it will explode. After his mental breakdown from the ghosts of the overlook, Jack regains his sanity and tells Danny and Wendy to get out and tries to relieve the pressure in the boiler. He fails and the building explodes killing him. In general, Stephen King’s problem with Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING is that it’s too “cold.” In the end the characters succumb to the malevolent influences of the Overlook, and there is no indication that their story could end any other way. According to King, Kubrick had always planned to change the ending of the novel. In 1978 the novelist said that the filmmaker initially “asked me for my opinion on Hallorann becoming possessed, and then finishing the job that Torrance started, killing Danny, Wendy, and lastly himself.” Kubrick envisioned a coda in which the family would appear as ghosts, now permanently trapped in the Overlook. King responded that “audiences would have his head if faced with the slaughter of characters they cared about.”King himself had already wrestled with the possibility of a tragic ending to his story. He told interviewer Marty Ketchum that, when he was writing the novel, “the original plan was for them all to die up there and for Danny to become the controlling force of the hotel after he died.” When it came time to write the words, however, King couldn’t do it. The note of hope at the end of The Shining novel is emblematic of the general “warmth” of Stephen King’s work. He is a romantic and a guarded optimist. Kubrick, it seems, was not.

#The Shining #Stephen King #Jack Torrance #Wendy Torrance #Danny Torrance #Stanley Kubrick

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