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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact.

“Liam.”

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #emma swan #killian jones #cs mc #cs mc fic #ouat mc #the whole storybrooke gang #when we collide #when we collide au #when we collide 5 #motorcycle club au

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thejessitaylor · 7 years

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The night I should have died

On a Saturday afternoon in 2004, while traveling down the 405 freeway in Long Beach, California, I saw a sign on the side of the road that said, “Experience the miracle of flying, demonstration flight $49”. So I pulled in and asked to fly. Within a matter of minutes Boden and I were airborne flying over the Palos Verdes Peninsula and the Pacific Ocean. I was hooked. I knew from this moment forward, aviation would be part of my life.

There was something so freeing being in the air above the ground, sailing from place to place, and falling in love with life all over again. It was amazing leaving southern California in the morning, flying fishing the Owens River, and being home before dinner. Life now has a fourth dimension that most only dream of having.

To become a certificated pilot or private pilot, the Federal Aviation Administration has a set of standards you must train for to meet and accomplish. Standards that include takeoffs, landings, steep turns, and short field takeoffs just to name a few. One of the most difficult skills to perfect is instrument flying skills, meaning, flying by reference to instruments only. A normal flight for most pilots is done by reference to the ground and the outside world by cross-referencing with the instruments inside the airplane. During instrument flying, all of your attention is solely on 6 different instruments. Instrument flying can be the difference of life and death to most pilots.

This is a story of how I almost lost my life during flight training. It is very difficult to even think about these events to this day. Each moment of this flight is forever stamped in my brain and I often recall these memories during stressful moments in the air and on the ground. In fact, this one flight shaped my life, my flying, and how I handle stressful moments today.

One evening my flight instructor and I met at the airport as the sun began to set to complete part of the night time flight requirement for my private pilot certificate. As normal, we briefed the flight and what was expected of me and my skills. At this point I had around 30 hours accumulated mostly by practicing takeoff and landings, and cross country flying. The objective of this flight was to fly for about an hour and a half, practice instruments flying, and then come back to Long Beach for some takeoffs and landings.

After a quick preflight and fuel up, we taxied out for takeoff on runway 25 in Long Beach. We headed southwest towards the practice area down the Los Angeles River channel over the Long Beach harbor. Night flying has always been one of my favorite times to fly, seeing all of those beautiful lights scattered across the ground. And watching cars moving about their night time activities. From here life was simple and not complicated. It was peaceful from up above it all, looking down at life on the ground.

As we made our turn to the West out over the ocean my flight instructor asked me to put on a view limiting device that made it so I could only see inside the airplane, forcing me to fly by reference to instruments only. Once the device was on, my instructor asked me to start a climb to 6,500 feet at 1,200 feet per minute. Once we got to 6,500 feet, my instructor looked down at the Los Angeles basin and saw the marine layer coming in far faster than forecast. So he said, we needed to head back to the airport, but he needed time to set up an instrument approach back into Long Beach.

My flight instructor began setting up for an approach back into Long Beach. He instructed me to fly heading 180 degrees, descend to 4,500 feet, slow to minimum controllable airspeed with full flaps. So I completed the task at about 45 knots. He then instructed to go into slow flight and make one 360 degree turn back to a heading of 180, and do a power off stall recover and lets go back to the airport. Once I established slow flight, my instructor began looking down to load the approach into the GPS. As I completed the turn, I began to stall the airplane and at the same time I rolled through my wake turbulence which is the disturbed wind I left behind in the previous turn causing the airplane to roll left. I turned right and put in left rudder, which caused the airplane to go into a cross controlled stall and immediately into a spin.

The nose of the airplane dropped into the darkness of the night over the ocean. My instructor yelled, “Recover, recover, recover”. I tried to find the direction of the turn while pulling the power off and gaining control of the airplane, but since it was night and in a spin, the recovery was almost impossible. My instructor yelled again, “My controls”. Looking at the altitude we passed through 2,700 feet and falling fast into the darkness of the ocean. We then went into the clouds sealing our fate.

As we spun towards the water I knew that this was probably the last moments of my life. In those moments I began thinking about the news story to follow, my parents and family finding out I had died, and what life was going to be like for them without me. I thought about the heartbreak and sadness of friends and my family having to identify my body if one could even be found. In all my life I would have never imagined dying in an airplane. Something that for so many years I had feared. In fact, it wasn’t even until my 21st birthday that I took my first commercial flight.

The world was spinning around me as if I didn’t even exist, and in the blink of any eye I would be dead. And in a matter of years I’d forgotten by time, never having truly lived or completing the long list of things I needed to accomplish in my life. This was the end, and I was completely conscious during the entire thing. With the airspeed over 140 knots and the altitude nearing 1,000 feet as quickly as we enter the spin our wings began to roll level the altitude began to stabilize, and we dropped below the clouds as the lights of the Long BeachHarbor glowed across the windshield.

My instructor had recovered the airplane.

How? To this day neither of us know exactly how, but we just know it did. We then made our way back to the airport and not a word was said. We parked the airplane, and I took off for home. That night I spent in cold sweats and restlessness thinking about the entire flight. If I fell asleep flashbacks of the spin woke me up in a gasp of nightmare. So I laid in bed trying not to go to sleep so that I didn’t have to live the event again.

The next morning I called my instructor and told him I was done training. It was fun while it lasted, but I just wasn’t meant to fly and would never lose my fear. He asked me where I was and said, “Come to the airport. Let's talk”.

Walking through the hanger smelling the fuel, the oil, the new leather in the airplanes caused a pit to grown in my stomach and my memory began flashing through last nights flight. My instructor stood at the opening of the hanger holding a parachute standing next to one of the aerobatic airplanes. He said, “Jess, meet Boden he is one of our senior aerobatic instructors and wants you to go up and get some pain training.”

Tears began to fill my eyes as anger filled my body. Why in the hell would he want me to go flying after last night? Trying not to be rude I followed Boden into the classroom to begin briefing our flight. Before he started, he looked at me and said, “ What happened last night was scary. I’m sure you thought you were going to die but that’s not the end of the story. You lived, and now its time to learn to conquer that fear of flying and get back in the air to what you know you love.”

He was right, getting back up in the airplane was the best thing I could have done. To this day I’m certain that if I hadn’t gone flying the next day, I would have never flown again.

A few years after that I received a phone call from my private pilot instructor who told me that Boden had died in a plane crash. After the final NTSB report was published, I found out that he died performing the same maneuver I fear. The spin.

I’ve attached the full report of the fatal crash, one that could have been mine. Each day I am more thankful than ever for my life and the ability to do something I love so much. As every pilots knows many have died before us attempting to get where we are today. Never take one day for granted.

NTSB Identification: LAX05LA283

HISTORY OF FLIGHT

On August 31, 2005, approximately 1250 Pacific daylight time, an Avions Robin R.2160 airplane, N216RN, impacted the ocean following a loss of control and subsequent flight crew bailout near Avalon, California. The airplane is presumed destroyed. The certified flight instructor was fatally injured and the pilot-rated student sustained minor injuries. The airplane was operated by California Flight Center of Long Beach, California, as an instructional flight under the provisions of 14 Code of Federal Regulations (CFR) Part 91. The flight departed Long Beach Airport at 1221, and was destined for Avalon Airport on Catalina Island. Visual meteorological conditions prevailed and a flight plan was not filed.

According to personnel associated with the operator, Long Beach Flight Standards District Office, and Los Angeles County Life Guard personnel, the flight departed Long Beach and headed toward Catalina Island. The flight entered an aerobatic box over the San Pedro Channel and performed some aerobatic maneuvers. During a telephone interview with the NTSB investigator-in-charge (IIC), the surviving student indicated that the instructor performed a hammerhead stall, followed by a loop. At some point in the maneuver, the airplane entered a spin. The spin's rotation increased and became violent. The instructor attempted to recover, to no avail. Around 2,500 feet, the instructor informed the surviving pilot that they "must get out of this airplane" and jettisoned the canopy. The student unbuckled his 5-point harness and exited the airplane. The student noticed the airplane, with the vertical and horizontal stabilizers still attached brush by him very fast in a nose low pitch attitude. He then deployed his parachute and noticed the airplane in the water along with the instructor's parachute.

The student impacted the water and began clearing himself from the parachute. He then inflated his life preserver and began calling for the instructor pilot, but received no response. The student estimated he was in the water for approximately 1.5 hours before the crew of a privately owned and operated yacht picked him up. They called ahead to the lifeguard unit, who in turn met the yacht. A US Coast Guard flight and marine unit was dispatched to the accident area and found the instructor pilot in the water. His parachute was out of the storage sack but his life vest was not inflated.

The student submitted a written statement regarding the event. It indicated that once they entered the aerobatic box and cleared the area, he performed a series of 3 loops under the instructor's guidance, followed by 2 flick-rolls. The student described all of these maneuvers as "successful." Then, under the instructor's guidance, the student performed a series of 2 spins, both of which were to the left.

The student then relinquished control of the airplane to the instructor and reached into the checklist pouch and removed his handheld camera to film the next series of maneuvers. The instructor proceeded to perform a hammerhead maneuver followed by what the student believed was a loop and then a spin. The student stopped filming when he suddenly realized that they were "violently spinning towards the water." The student believed he counted 7 or 8 spins to the right, but wasn't positive about the direction. He realized they were spinning too much and that they were rapidly losing altitude. The instructor told the student to remove his feet from the rudder pedals. The student added that he believed he was resting his feet on the pedals, but not pressing on them. He removed his feet from the pedals and brought his knees up to his chest.

The instructor continued with his attempt to stop the spin, but then the propeller eventually slowed and came to a complete stop. The student looked at the instructor, who in turn, looked at the student and "calmly said, 'Let's get out of here.'" The instructor then jettisoned the canopy and air rushed into the cockpit. The student twisted his quick-release mechanism and jumped out of the airplane. He mentioned again that he felt the vertical stabilizer rush past him. The student estimated that their altitude at that point was no more than 1,000 feet above the ocean.

Once clear from the airplane, the student pulled his parachute's ripcord and looked up to see the parachute open. When he looked down, he observed the airplane impact the water to his left. To his right, he saw the instructor's parachute opened and floating on the surface of the water. The student added that as he drifted up from the airplane, he did not see the instructor drift up and never saw him with his parachute open floating down to the surface of the water.

Review of radar data provided by the Southern California Terminal Radar Approach Control facility revealed that the airplane was at the following positions during its last 9 radar returns:

PERSONNEL INFORMATION

Flight Instructor

The flight instructor held an instructor certificate for single-engine airplanes. He was an airline transport pilot with a multi-engine airplane rating, and a commercial pilot with a single-engine airplane rating. He was also type-rated in Learjet 60 airplanes. He was issued a first-class medical certificate on July 21, 2005, without any limitations or restrictions.

A review of his logbook revealed he accumulated a total of 2,309 hours of flight time. He logged about 776 hours in multi-engine airplanes, and 1,524 hours in single-engine airplanes. The flight school where he was employed estimated that he accumulated at least 250 hours in the accident airplane make and model. His logbook revealed that in the last 30 days he logged 95 total flight hours, of which 17 were in the same make and model as the accident airplane.

The instructor pilot was in the right seat during the flight.

Student

The student had a private pilot license with a single-engine airplane rating. His last medical certificate was obtained in September 1999. According to him, he logged about 310 hours of total flight time.

The student was in the left seat during the flight.

AIRCRAFT INFORMATION

The Avions Robin R.2160 is an all-metal, two-seat airplane, built in France. The airplane is equipped with a 160 horsepower Lycoming O-320-A2D engine. Though it is certificated as an acrobatic airplane in France, in the US it receives an experimental certification.

A review of the approved flight manual (AFM) revealed that when the wing flaps are retracted, intentional spins are approved; however, no baggage should be carried. The AFM indicates that the loss of altitude per 1 turn spin is about 250 feet. Spins in the Avions Robin should be "entered from a power-off full stall with slight nose up attitude." The spin recovery technique listed in the manual indicates that the pilot should:

- Apply and maintain full opposite rudder

- Maintain stick back until rotation stops (stick back position accelerates the recovery).

- Ailerons neutral

- As rotation stops neutralize the rudder and smoothly recover from the dive. After 3 spin turns, recovery is performed in 3/4 of a turn.

A note following the spin recovery procedure indicates that "only one action is important: Keep the rudder fully in the opposite direction!" The AFM also indicates that in spins lasting longer than three turns, the engine may stop. For 4 turn spins (or more) recovery takes 1.5 turns.

Review of the aircraft's maintenance records revealed that the last annual inspection completed on the airframe/engine took place on December 22, 2004, at an airframe total time of 7,359.1 hours. On August 18, 2005, the airplane/engine underwent a 100-hour inspection at an airframe total time of 7,555.01 hours, and an engine total-time-since-major-overhaul of 1,025.1 hours. As of the morning of the accident, the airplane had accumulated 7,562.1 hours.

WRECKAGE & IMPACT INFORMATION

The airplane and engine were not recovered following the accident due to the depth of the water at the point of impact and the inability to locate the wreckage. Small pieces of debris were recovered and examined, but they were of little pertinence.

The flight instructor's parachute was recovered and examined by an FAA inspector. According to his statement, he received the parachute after it had been placed in a plastic evidence bag and recovered from the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office. The canopy and suspension lines had been cut by recovery personnel near their attachment point to the harness. The parachute appeared to be a "normal" deployment. The pilot chute was attached to the parachute and was fully deployed. The ripcord was not in the cord housing, but was present and appeared to be in good condition. Due to the suspension lines being cut by recovery personnel, a determination of entanglement could not be made. There were no rubber bands present in the harness, pack, or on the suspension lines. The inspector noted that the parachute had been inspected and repacked 16 days prior to the accident, on August 15, 2005.

PATHOLOGICAL INFORMATION

The Los Angeles County Coroner's Office conducted an autopsy on the flight instructor. According to the autopsy report, there was a "deep laceration of the right upper chest extending to the right shoulder". The cause of death was due to multiple blunt traumatic injuries.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

The wreckage has not been recovered as of this report's writing.

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