Timeline? What’s a timeline?
“Mother fuck!”
Emma sits down hard on the chair, cradling her sore foot. There’s no chest there in Killian’s cabin, she thinks sourly.
Fucking Black Beard and fucking Isaac and god damn her life.
Ever the gentleman, Killian had offered up the captain’s cabin for her to use while they sailed back to fix whatever Isaac had done. According to Henry, it wasn’t a curse exactly, but being swept into a storybook where their lives were all rewritten didn’t feel exactly un-curselike either.
Though it had only been two days, the rewrite makes her believe it’s been two years since she’s had a proper bath; as soon as Killian had left her to her own devices, she’d found almost everything she needed for a proper bath. Scrubbed and feeling clean, she’s been scouring the cabin for anything resembling a brush or a comb, something which seems to have been completely foreign to Black Beard, despite all his hair.
Maybe he didn’t have all that hair in this world.
Maybe it’s time she goes to raid the galley for a fork.
“Miss? Er–Emma?”
She sighs, rubbing her sore foot. It’s weird to have Killian at her side when it’s not him, not really. His… memory’s been wiped or his personality changed or… she doesn’t fucking know what Isaac did but she’s got to figure out something to get her Killian back. Or at least get this one into some kind of fighting shape if they’re gonna make any headway here. “Yeah, it’s open, Killian.”