I was just pondering on the absolute stillness that Killian’s life would have suddenly been after Alice became his whole life. I mean, a baby is a lot of work and she would have provided plenty of ‘movement’ herself, as she grew. But, while he’s used to the confined quarters, they’re stationary. His life is now stationary. His goal, his drive is suddenly stationary, in a way it never was before.
I think about the quiet hours, while Alice is sleeping or playing or drawing, that he would have, to spend time thinking over his life up to that point, in a way he never has before. Sure, he had down time to ponder before, but with his forward momentum goal of revenge, his mental frame for considering his past would have been totally different compared to being alone with his daughter, in their tower, with a completely new perspective with which to assess his long history.
I wonder about the potential for a sort of meditative quality that this new life perhaps might have opened the doors for, without a new destination ahead or a new piece of information to uncover or scheme to plan or his life in danger at every turn.
Because of Neverland, he was used to every day being the same, day in day out, on into the future, but it was a toward a dark and nebulous goal that was anchored to some point in the future.
Now, in his tower, with his daughter, he knows that, again, every day will be the same, but his goal is a bright and vibrant thing that lives with him in his present. It’s that shift from forward thinking to present moment thinking that I’m curious about. My sense is that, perhaps, this is first time he’s ever really allowed himself to be anchored by the here and now. I think he appreciated the here and now with Milah (and to a degree with Liam, life circumstances permitting), but the life he lived with them was also quite forward. New missions, new ranks, new ports, new destinations to move toward while seeing the world.
But with Alice, she is the ‘new’, anchored in the present with new words and new steps and new imaginings. Of course, thoughts of the future exist in this life too, but I imagine more of a shift in weight or ratio than an all or nothing.
Basically, I’m just picturing him, sitting quietly one night, Alice on his lap while he reads to her, cozy by the fire. And suddenly, he finds himself weeping, overwhelmed by the peace he feels. Alice worried that something is wrong. Are you hurt, Papa? And No. No, my little starfish. I’m not hurt. I’m happy. I’ve not been this happy in a long long time.
And then I wonder about him integrating that movement back into his life, in pursuit of not just freeing Alice from the tower but in pursuit of enriching her life while she’s there. Because I do think that Killian Jones is a Man of Action™, and he wouldn’t be able to sit idly (and clearly didn’t based on flashbacks), while there was something he could be doing for her.
So, he reconnects with that forward motion part of himself, that part that chased revenge for 200 years, but that before that, chased sunsets and glittering shores with his love and enemy vessels with his brother. But now, his motion is out and back again, like the spokes on a wheel or the rays of the sun. And even this core part of his being has been altered by this new person in his life. This glowing addition. She is an anchor, but in the very best way. She keeps him from drifting astray, from getting lost again in the tumult of his grief and rage.
And then he loses his anchor.
