Marta, writer, lover of all things OuaT, the Brothers Jones, Captain Swan - and Sheriff Graham! /// Banner by @hollyethecurious /// Avatar by: @carpedzem
CSSS25 Fic: "Next Year All Our Troubles Will be Out of Sight" {Part Two}
I know there is a saying about Christmas in July, but here you have a bit of Christmas in June. I can't help but apologize again to my @cssecretsanta2025 giftee @cocohook38 for the delay once again, but I hope you are still with me and will enjoy this new update. There's one more and then a short epilogue after this, so I am truly getting close at last. For anyone else still reading and following this, I thank you for you patience too and hope you'll enjoy this as well.
Summary: Tragedy brings Killian Jones into Emma Swan and her son Henry's lives, but at first she may be too closed off to accept the help he wishes to offer. Much stands in the way, but her son's belief, a stubborn, caring man, and perhaps just a pinch of healing Christmas magic, may help them all muddle through into a brighter New Year.
If you need a refresher, the Prologue of this story can be found HERE, or HERE on AO3.
Part Two: In the Bleak Midwinter
Three Weeks Later
If anyone had asked her, Emma wouldn’t have claimed to have found her way yet; she honestly still felt as if some days were spent in a surreal haze. But she was finding her footing and kept putting one of them in front of the other, so she counted that a small victory in itself. Somehow, everything kept going on around them much as it always had, and so she had squared her shoulders and soldiered on - just as she had done all the previous times life had knocked her down.
She had managed to tell Henry about his Papa Graham’s death, and they had cried together. They’d held each other’s hands tightly at the funeral, two against the world now instead of three, and she’d tenderly wiped away his tears and reminded him that it was okay to be sad and to grieve; he had loved Graham, and Graham had loved him, and he never had to forget that. She tried not to dwell on the fact that all her own tears seemed to have frozen inside her since that first night at the hospital, and that - except for the mornings and evenings when Henry was with her at home from school - it felt as if the empty chill in her chest was spreading through the rest of her body, sinking into sinew and bone.
For Henry’s sake, Emma tried to make life as normal as possible. Never would she want him to feel he had to bottle up his emotions, or to hide if he was struggling, but she also didn’t want her pain to worry him, or to keep him from healing. Just the previous evening, she had popped popcorn, and they’d watched The Grinch and Frosty in their pjs, not wanting to forego all the things she and her son had always enjoyed together. Still, Emma couldn’t face going to find a tree without Graham. He’d always looked forward to it with such gusto that she had teased him about being a lumberjack woodsman while Henry laughed, and then the two of them would tromp out on their adventure. She would have homemade cocoa waiting for them when they returned with their prize, and they’d string the lights afterwards. Nor could she bear to dig out all the decorations and come face-to-face with Graham’s stocking and those ornaments in their collection he had picked out himself. In truth, it was hard to feel that it was right to celebrate at all - and that was no one’s fault but her own.
So, instead, she had strung some simple white lights up the stairway bannister, gotten Henry a small fiberoptic color-changing tree for his own room that he seemed fascinated with watching as he settled in bed each night, and they had gone out seeking brand new stockings, claiming the old ones were in bad shape, and treating him to hot chocolate after that job instead. Henry hadn’t seemed much phased by the alteration, and she fared much better only having to see the gaily twinkling tree when she bid her son goodnight. She felt nothing even close to the holiday spirit herself.
Dr. Jones - Killian - true to his word, had stayed with Henry that night in the hospital; though they must have seen her go by when she left the room where Graham’s body had lain and looked for her together until finding her in the chapel. He’d accepted her embarrassed apologies without asking for further explanations, and she had been grateful. It was clear Henry had already taken a liking to the man as well. Looking up at him as if they were already old friends, and pulling him into their mournful huddle when Emma had finally broken the awful news.
It had seemed wise, when the hospital recommended and Emma found her insurance would cover it for at least a couple months, to seeking counselling sessions with Killian - particularly since Henry was already comfortable with him. She wasn’t about to put herself on his couch and open up her own cache of trauma, but she wanted to be certain Henry was coping and healing properly, and though she couldn’t fully explain it, even to herself, she trusted Killian Jones in that regard. Henry had seen him for a first session not long after the funeral, and had been to Dr. Jones’ office twice more since then, once a week.
Just then, Henry wasn’t at home. He had gone to the sledding hill at his school with one of his friends. Their family had gladly offered to take him along, and Emma had been relieved to see his excitement bubbling over at the afternoon’s opportunity. Once he’d been properly bundled up and out the door, Emma had devoted a couple hours to researching and tracking down leads for one of her current cases - petty theft and stalking and other such misbehavior took no holiday vacation - she set herself to the task of making something hearty and warm for supper when Henry returned.
She had just checked on the tuna noodle casserole that she was pleasantly and surprisingly pleased with the appearance of (cooking had never been her strongest skill, but she had been giving it a concentrated effort in the last few years and was getting better) when she heard the doorbell ring out in the hall. Emma closed the oven door, reset the timer, and headed that way calling out to the unknown visitor that she was coming. It seemed too early for Henry yet, so she was curious just who she might find on the other side of the door.
Peering through the peephole, Emma saw that Killian Jones waited patiently in the second floor hallway, and though she couldn’t figure why he was there, she had no qualms in opening the door to greet him.
When she swung the door open, Killian smiled warmly, nodding his head slightly to acknowledge her hello. She could see that something was on his mind though, as the easy good humor of his usual smile didn’t stretch across his face, some unspoken concern evident in his eyes. Even as she beckoned him further into the hall, Emma felt a weight in her chest wondering what could be wrong.
Shrugging a bit uncertainly, she attempted a bit of a playful half-smile, trying to either gloss over or alleviate the anxious energy present between them. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she tried lightly, “but I hope you haven’t come to make a house call. Henry isn’t here.”
Killian managed a light huff of laughter at her weak joke, but was already shaking his head ‘no’, making clear that his concern was elsewhere. “No lass, I was hoping to speak to you. Henry told me of his sledding adventure, and I picked this afternoon with that in mind.”
Emma’s brow furrowed with confusion, “You did?”
Jones still seemed unnecessarily discomfited, dipping his head for a moment to study his scuffed boots and the color pattern of her carpet before releasing a sigh and seeming to square his shoulders. When he raised his face to meet hers once more, Emma was pinned where she stood, unable to move or look away, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. A sort of knowing skittered down her spine at the conflicting emotion in those blue depths; she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, that must be why he was so reluctant, and yet he seemed determined to speak regardless.
Opening her mouth in an attempt to stop whatever he was attempting, Emma shook her head but couldn’t force out anything audible.
To his credit, Killian Jones was a better shrink than any Emma had encountered in her youth, and he read exactly what she was trying to do as if it were printed across her face. “Aye, I did,” he exhaled, and then ploughed forward, needing to get it all out before he could rethink the action or she could interrupt. “I felt compelled to discuss my concerns with you after seeing Henry for a third visit. I hope you know, I don’t say any of this to upset you, Swan. It’s clear you care very much for your boy and want what is best for him, but…” he wet his lips, pausing for a moment to draw courage before continuing, “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t share that it seems Henry still feels under a pall. He opened up that he misses your usual live tree in the living room, and other yearly traditions. He also admitted that he hesitates to fully celebrate this Christmas, because he knows you are unhappy.”
Emma blinked rapidly as she stumbled back to lean against the kitchen island. Though Jones said he didn’t intend any affront, it was impossible not to go on immediate defense. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest like a shield, Emma knew the sharp pitch to her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t help it. It stung thinking that she hadn’t been as careful, as convincing as she had thought, and that Henry had been worried by it. Her knee-jerk reaction was to lash out, and to flounder for a convincing argument that this man who had known them mere weeks must be mistaken. “What do you mean he can’t celebrate?! We’ve hung stockings and watched Frosty. He loves his new tree - it’s in his room!! Wouldn’t I know if he were missing something else? If he’s still feeling down, isn’t that to be expected? Graham hasn’t even been gone a month! You don’t need to dig up problems under the surface!”
Killian looked down again, biting back a quick retort as if trying to rein in his temper. It made Emma’s rising frustration even more volatile. “Don’t pretend you’re all patient and understanding! You come in here, acting like you know just what I should be doing for my own kid, or that you know what he needs better than I do. You don’t know me, or all that Henry and I have been through together. Three half hour sessions don’t make you the expert on my son!” She was getting worked up now; she could feel it. Yet, there didn’t seem to be a way to bring her emotions back under control. She felt cornered - both angry that he would question her parenting and sinkingly afraid that he might be correct. Henry was sensitive and attuned to others; he could easily have picked up that her heart wasn’t in the holiday, no matter how she had tried to disguise the fact. Her sweet boy would worry over her, along with shouldering his own sadness and loss. He wouldn’t want to ask for something he thought might hurt her. While she was internally castigating herself for not coming to the realization sooner, it only made her upset at the man standing before her grow. She knew, logically, that she wasn’t being fair to him, but logic didn’t have control in the moment.
Those blue eyes were fixed on her once more, looking pained but resolute, as Killian tried to follow her backward steps, even reached out as if to take her hand and attempt to soothe the reaction he had caused. soothe the reaction he’d caused.
But Emma sliced her hand through the air, narrowing her eyes in warning. “Don’t,” she stated firmly, stopping him in his tracks. “Whatever you’re about to say, Doctor,” the emphasis she put on the title was scathing, “save it.” Her face stopped the words on his tongue. He was the one momentarily frozen as she had been before. Her lowered voice hissing, “You’ve done enough,” brought him back into motion, only to flinch from the pain and anger equally clear as it radiated from her hunched form. Before his eyes, the indignance that she’d held herself up with dissipated. The fire that she’d spat at him moments ago extinguished, and she shrank inward with it right before his eyes.
When he could catch his breath, Killian couldn’t help but fire back. He’d only been thinking of the young man who had already burrowed into his heart, but if this was how his concern was met, he was wrong to have tried. “Pardon me for thinking I could be of help,” he growled, words wrung from his throat grudgingly. “You may think I cannot possibly understand, but you don’t really know me either, Miss Swan. As it turns out, I’m actually quite perceptive… and your boy is hurting.”
As she shook her head that time, it seemed more like a frantic denial. No more words were said, as they both panted, trying to put their protective walls back in place. To see tears streaming down her cheeks pierced right through his defenses again, more than it had any right to.
Seeing, at least in the moment, that there was nothing else he could say or do, Killian bowed his head, admitting defeat. “I’ll see myself out,” he murmured.
And when the door clicked closed behind him, Emma finally discovered that her tears had not yet run dry.
~~*~~
Killian found himself aimlessly walking the city streets for some time that evening. After leaving Emma’s place, he was too worked up to go home and sit alone, reading or watching television as he usually did. He had nowhere to be, but perhaps he could burn off his excess energy and tame his ricocheting thoughts. The lights strung up in store windows and along the sidewalks twinkled merrily, but none seemed to glisten as brightly as the silent tears on Emma Swan’s face in his mind’s eye - tears that came in response to his words.
He still didn’t think he had been in the wrong as a counseling professional, and simply as an adult who cared about him, Killian had needed to share his concerns over Henry’s mindset with his mother. There had been the distinct possibility that his words would not go over well, but it had seemed what he had to do all the same.
Nevertheless, he had caused hurt - intentional or not. As he had seen the emotions flash across Emma Swan’s face, it had suddenly driven home to him a deeper layer he had not realized. She spoke up with a show of anger, claiming offense that he would question her parenting or wonder if Henry were missing something, but beneath that outward reaction, and under the obvious layer of grief and sadness, he recognized something else, an emotion he’d glimpsed in her once before, but dismissed as improbable and all in his imagination. If he’d had to label it, he’d called it guilt. Still, just as before, that hardly made sense. Could she be blaming herself for the loss of her love somehow? Why would she? And, if so, was the poor woman punishing herself, feeling she should not be allowed to move on and find happiness again?
Though she was clearly not about to open up to him anytime soon, Killian Jones had already long since deduced that Emma Swan was a woman of strong self-sufficiency who had clearly been made a survivor by Fate’s often capricious vagaries. Her mistrust of his chosen profession was also telegraphed in her so clearly she might as well have said it out loud. He might not know the details of her history - as she had so forcefully reminded him - but he could not help but wish for the ability to help, and that she would let him. That glimpse of pain and guilt had brought him new focus and understanding; his goal now clear. There would be little healing under bitter self-condemnation… and whether she now wanted anything to do with him or his advice, Killian knew all too well how misplaced blame weighed a person down. For the sake of his young charge, and his mother, he could find a way.
As he was pondering all this, Killian noticed that he stood outside a small shop still open despite the later hour; an old fashioned looking shop of decor and handicraft items. His feet had turned to enter almost before his mind gave signal to do so. A bell chimed over the door as he stepped inside, while cinnamon and cloves pleasantly invaded his senses. His lips twitched upwards despite the deep thoughts engrossing his attention, and he gladly gave into the full smile and the warmth spreading in his chest at the friendly greeting offered by the gray-haired woman at the register who looked up over her glasses to greet him upon his arrival.
He assured her he was merely browsing and began to meander the crowded but charming aisles, drawn to all the engaging and unique items filling every available nook and cranny, even if he wasn’t yet sure exactly what had so definitely pulled him to this place in particular. Each new display he encountered was delightful and entertaining, catching the eye in a simple but irresistible manner.
Killian turned the corner into the final row, toward the back of the small shop, where a fully decked Christmas tree was lit and stood shimmering in all its finery from a cozy alcove, when he saw it. The very thing he needed without even knowing it was what he’d been seeking. The perfect gift to present as a peace offering the next time he saw Emma Swan - if she would accept it from him at all. Dangling from an upper branch, delicately catching the lights and sending dazzling rainbowed reflections out across the room, was a crystal swan, as graceful and lovely as Henry’s mum, in spite of the woman’s added fierceness.
Reaching up to remove the fragile ornament from its perch, Killian was momentarily taken back to the brightly lit, small but well-loved cottage of his youth. He could see his own mother beaming at him as they’d decorated a tree together while the snow fell heavily outside. He had not known it then as he’d sat curled beside her on the sofa with hot apple cider and snickerdoodle cookies while admiring their handiwork, but he was not meant to have many more Christmases with her. It would be years before he could properly navigate his own anger and grief at how quickly sickness had taken her and left Killian and his older brother alone in the world; even longer before he could fully appreciate the prophetic wisdom of the words she had whispered to him that night in the golden glow of that fragrant spruce tree. “Enjoy the moments like this one, my Killy.” The love in her eyes made his younger self feel like the most important person in the entire world, so much so that he didn’t even mind her use of the nickname he had recently begun to find rather childish. She’d ruffled his dark hair that matched her own with tender fingers as she continued, “We must make the most of the good times we are given in this life; they can be fleeting and far between, but they make all the rest of it worth the struggle.”
The memory faded away, back into the haze of his past, as Killian cradled the small object in his hand and moved back to the front to purchase the swan. He thanked the shopkeeper genuinely, complimenting her lovely collection, and she winked playfully in response, almost as if she bore some sort of Mrs. Claus magic or perhaps just a hint of extra knowing, “Thank you, Dear. You come back anytime. We aim to have just the thing a person needs.”
A bit dumbfounded, Killian nodded his agreement and walked a bit dazedly out of the store, clutching the bag that contained his purchase tightly… like the rare gift that it was. He felt rejuvenated, back on course. He would at least have the opportunity to see Henry again, and he now had an offering as well, to go with a sincere apology for any offense he might have caused despite his noble intentions. If nothing else, he would have one more chance to help Emma Swan see that she deserved a second chance at happiness - and that a person had to live and enjoy the time he or she does have.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssecretsanta2020 @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose
Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.
A/N: We are getting closer to the finish line! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through my writing drought and inconsistent updates. As I mentioned in my last update, this fic is finished, so the final chapter will be posted a week from today!
Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills! Also a HUGE thank you to @snowbellewells who made the cover art for my birthday last year. Thank you again, Marta! I absolutely love it!
Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
Part Six
Orange and red bathed the headstones as the sun set over the graveyard. The three of them had waited in the park next to the cemetery, intending to enter closer to nightfall, but still within the permitted hours. Seated at a picnic table on the outskirts, they watched as a police car slowly crept down the road that ran alongside the burial site’s boundary.
“Bloody hell,” Killian cursed beneath his breath. “What is that? The third patrol in an hour?”
“Something like that,” Emma replied, before glancing at him sideways and cheekily adding, “The town stepped up their police presence here after some lunatic dug up and set fire to a body last year.”
Killian met her taunting countenance with an equally teasing sigh and feigned annoyed glower. The two could only hold their needling expression for a scant moment before smiles took over their faces.
Seemingly oblivious to the fond nostalgia being shared between his companions, Liam stood and began to make his way towards the treeline. “Lucky for us the Mills Mausoleum is on the other side of the cemetery, far from the road.”
Lucky, indeed.
Or so it had seemed.
Once they arrived at the Mill’s family resting place, their luck took a turn.
Killian had expected the mausoleum to be locked. Affluent family gravesights often were, as a way to ward off theft and vandalism. What he had not anticipated was the style and intricacy of said lock.
Crouching in front of the iron door, Killian cursed as he fiddled with the mechanism. “Bloody tumblers won’t budge. It’s as though they’re secured by magic.”
“We’ve no evidence that Cora was a witch,” Liam replied without a hint of sarcasm, his gaze scanning the area for any signs of interruption.
“I didn’t mean literally, brother,” Killian said with an eyeroll, then muttered, “Though, I wouldn’t have put it past her.”
A soft giggle pulled his attention upward to where Swan was standing over him, holding the flashlight. As it was prone to do, his body instantly reacted; his breath catching and his heart palpitating as a warm flush of desire and affection spread through him. Seeing her, bathed in moonlight amongst the headstones, transported him back to the night they met, here in this very cemetery.
What he wouldn’t give to go back and do things differently. He’d been such a fool and desperately hoped--now that everything was out in the open between them--that she’d give him a second chance. A tall order, considering she was currently romantically involved and living with another man. Even if he found said man to be lacking in a number of ways and nowhere near deserving of someone the caliber of Emma Swan.
Although, some might question whether he was any more deserving himself, given how he’d squandered his chance with her when he’d had it, regardless of how noble he thought his reasons were at the time.
“Want me to give it a try?” Emma asked, crouching down beside him. Her breath against his cheek caused a shiver to run down his spine, compromising his balance and landing him on his backside with an audible oomph.
“Shhh,” Liam hissed. “Someone’s coming.”
His brother hid behind a tall grave marker as the beam of a flashlight swept across the headstones. Grabbing Killian by the lapels of his jacket, Swan pulled him back towards the cover of the mausoleum’s shadow, the two of them tangled together as they sat pressed against the structure and one another.
The roar of his blood thundered in his ears as he held his breath, his focus torn between trying not to be discovered by who he assumed was one of the officers on patrol and the feel of Emma wrapped in his arms as she practically straddled his lap. It felt like an eternity before the coast became clear once more, but Killian made no effort to extricate himself from his current position. Leaning back to glance around the side of the mausoleum, Emma’s hips shifted over his groin and he was helpless to stop his body from responding, or the aching whimper from falling off his lips.
The startled swiftness with which she straightened back up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted told him his affliction had not gone unnoticed. The two of them held the other’s gaze for a long moment, and when her eyes dipped down to his lips, his followed suit. Their breathing shallowed, exhales mingling in the chilled air that was growing more charged by the second. His fingers gripped her hip a bit tighter, his thumb sliding under the hem of her sweater to the bare skin beneath causing her breath to hitch and her flesh to pebble from his touch. Cautiously, he inched forward, intending to close the gap and claim that perfect mouth of hers, but only if she gave him the slightest hint of consent to do so.
Consent he’d never know if he would have received, thanks to his clueless, meddlesome, infuriating brother.
“That was too close for comfort,” Liam whispered. “I think it best we take our leave and come up with a new plan.”
Emma scrambled off Killian’s lap, forcing another pained sound to escape from the back of his throat. Holding his hands out, Liam assisted them both to standing and waited for their agreement before setting off in the direction of the park.
It wasn’t until they were back in his Chevelle that Emma suggested, “Maybe the groundskeeper has a key to the mausoleum. We could ask Belle to find out. She could use the excuse of needing to update records or wanting to do research for city historical purposes.”
“Perhaps you could also ask Sheriff Humbert if he’d be willing to pull back on the patrols here, although I’m not sure what reason you’d give him,” Liam offered from the backseat, having graciously insisted that Swan ride shotgun, which Killian knew had been his brother’s way of torturing him. The git.
Emma smirked and stated, “If I have Ruby ask him he won’t need a reason.”
Liam chuckled. “Aye. The lass does seem to have your sheriff wrapped around her finger.”
“Among other parts of herself, I dare say,” Killian quipped, earning him a chortle from Swan and a slap at the back of his head from his brother. “Oi! Bad form to assault the driver whilst the vehicle is in motion!”
“Bad form to make such remarks about our host’s friend.”
“I assure you, I was only stating what Emma was already thinking. Isn’t that right, Swan?”
Glancing towards the passenger seat, Killian was met with a cheeky expression and mischievous glint sparkling from those enticing, green depths he often found himself lost in.
“Actually, I was gonna suggest that Liam talk with Belle about getting us access to the mausoleum, seeing as he wouldn’t mind being wrapped around more than just her finger.”
Killian erupted into laughter and peered at his brother through the rearview mirror. Even in the dim light of passing cars and streetlights he could see his brother’s face turn bright red. Fortunately, it was accompanied by a caught out smile and good-natured chuckle.
“Lass, I fear my brother has been a bad influence on you.”
“No more than I am over him,” she quipped back haughtily, furtively shooting Killian a look that made his pants tighten impossibly more.
He wasn’t sure how he’d ever manage to get out of the car, much less make it up the stairs to the front door. Coming up with some excuse to hang back, Killian remained behind the wheel as Emma and Liam both exited the car.
“I’ll see you both in the morning, then,” Swan replied, heading up the front steps, her tight jeans hugging her arse in a way that solidified the reality that Killian was in for a long, uncomfortable night.
“Everything alright, brother?” Liam asked with a little too much concern in his tone. “Finding it hard to put the day behind you?”
“Piss off,” Killian grummaced, throwing open the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.
“You’re both idiots, you know that right?”
Sighing, Killian conceded, “I’ll admit to you being half right. I’ve only myself to blame.”
Placing a firm hand on Killian’s shoulder, Liam urged, “Just tell her how you feel. Explain what happened after the Wend--”
“I have,” Killian told him. “But it’s not that simple. She’s with someone now. I don’t want to make things more complicated for her, or be the reason things fall apart and cause her more pain.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, brother,” Liam confided. “I have it on good authority that things were rocky between her and Neal long before we got here. If I were a betting man, I’d say their relationship has run its course and it’s only a matter of time before he’s out of the picture completely.”
“And you think I ought to be waiting in the wings, ready to pick up the pieces? A bit opportunistic, don’t you think?”
“I think,” Liam countered in a somber yet affectionate tone, “you should give yourself permission to fight for what you want. Give yourself permission to be happy. You deserve that as much as anyone else, little brother.”
Killian swallowed past the tightness in his throat and gave his brother a nod of understanding before following him inside, muttering younger as they entered the carriage house.
~/~
Consciousness came slowly, lazily, and with little effort. Stretching out the few kinks peppering her body, Emma could not remember the last time she’d slept so well. Allowing herself a few more moments of comfort, she hugged the pillow beside her and sighed into its softness. The smell of her laundry detergent and the lavender scented dryer sheets filled her sinuses and a contented smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
After they’d returned home from the cemetery, Emma had made her way upstairs and surveyed her room. Her room. No physical sign of Neal remained; a fact that had enveloped her in a blanket of relief. She’d wasted no time stripping the bed, replacing the sheets she’d last shared with him with fresh ones from the linen closet.
From the depths of her dresser drawer she’d pulled out the raggedy t-shirt she’d almost always worn to bed before Neal had become a frequent overnight fixture. The one he’d mocked incessantly until she finally replaced it with a cami or some other barely there pajama top. The soft, worn fabric felt like the embrace of an old friend on her skin, welcoming her back with comfort and ease.
Out of habit, she’d pulled back the blankets on what had been her side for the past couple months, but then stopped herself. She’d only started sleeping on that side, the one closest to the door, because Neal had preferred the other. The one closer to the bathroom, so he wouldn’t have to go too far if he awoke in the middle of the night, ensuring he’d get back to sleep quickly. Nevermind the fact he was never quiet about it and often woke her up in the process.
She supposed she could sleep on whichever side she chose now. Hell, she could take up the entire bed if she wanted. Smiling, she’d climbed onto the mattress and slid beneath the covers smack dab in the middle of the bed. Nestled beneath the weight of the extra blankets--Neal had always wanted it as cold as possible when he slept, despite her desire to stay warm and cozy--Emma had drifted off perfectly content.
Well, almost perfectly content.
There was that small pang of disappointment that it was a stack of quilts and not Killian’s body pressing her into the mattress before sleep fully claimed her. She’d be lying if she said it had only been a fleeting thought. Her dreams of him had been anything but fleeting.
Reluctantly, Emma rolled over and reached for her phone. Unplugging it from the charger, she did a double take when she read the time.
1:16 PM
“Holy shit!” Shooting up, she struggled to detangle herself from the blankets. Grabbing a pair of nearby leggings, Emma hopped towards the door on alternating legs as she struggled to put them on. A glance towards the guest room showed it to be empty, and after making her way down the stairs, another look into the study revealed the same. Turning into the kitchen, she stopped short at the sight of a shirtless Killian Jones, hair sticking up at odd angles with pajama pants perched precariously low on his hips, filling a cup of coffee.
“Morning, love,” he offered in a rough, gravelly voice before bringing the steaming mug to his lips. After a quick, testing swallow he turned towards her fully, his eyes taking her in over the brim as he took another sip. Tonguing an errant drop from the corner of his mouth, he smirked and said, “Nice shirt.”
Glancing down at herself, Emma remembered which shirt she’d put on the night before… and where it had come from in the first place.
“You’ve been taking good care of it, I see.” Before Emma could respond, Killian grabbed another cup from the cabinet and asked, “Coffee?”
“Uh, y-yeah,” she stammered. “Please.”
By the time he’d poured and handed her the beverage, she managed to pull herself together.
Sort of.
“Guess I’m not the only one who overslept?”
Scratching his fingers through his hair, Killian followed her to the living room, a yawn escaping him as he replied, “Seems so.”
Sinking down on opposite ends of her couch, they both took a drink and waited for the coffee to do its thing. Or for the other one to break the ice. Emma wasn’t quite sure which.
“Have you seen Liam?” she asked, tucking her feet beneath her and wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. For all its comfort and charm, the carriage house still had issues with letting in the morning chill.
Killian pulled an afghan off the back of the chair next to him and handed it to her. “Aye. Briefly.” He helped her spread out the blanket so she wouldn’t have to put her mug down, then added, “He woke me up about half an hour ago. Said he was going to meet Belle at the library and ask her about that key.”
Emma nodded and brought the cup up to her lips, murmuring against the edge, “I’ll call Ruby and see if she can work her magic on Graham.”
Setting her coffee down, Emma took her phone out of the side pocket of her leggings. She was scrolling through her contacts when Killian asked, “How’s Neal this morning? Haven’t seen him since yesterday’s unfortunate event.”
Sucking in her bottom lip, Emma warred with herself before confessing, “He’s, uh… He’s gone.”
“Gone to work?” Killian replied. “I would have thought he’d call out, but I suppose I can’t blame him for wanting to get out of the house for a bit.”
Emma opened her mouth to correct him, but was cut off by an incoming call. She didn’t recognize the number which normally would mean she wouldn’t answer. This time, however, she’d risk a telemarketer in order to have a reprieve from the current topic of conversation.
“Hello?”
“Miss Swan?” inquired a male voice on the other end of the line.
“This is she.”
“Miss Swan, this is Robin Locksley. We met briefly at Regina Mills’ house yesterday?”
Sitting up straighter, she waved at Killian to get his attention (which she already had) and took the phone away from her ear, putting it on speaker. “Yes, Mr. Locksley, I remember.”
Killian scooted closer and the two of them hovered over the phone as the man replied, “Oh, call me Robin. Please.”
“Robin,” Emma repeated. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve had a talk with Miss Mills… Regina, and she wonders if you’d mind her and I coming to the carriage house so we can all talk some more about… you know.”
“Of course!”
“Terrific. We can head that way in about an hour and be there around four?”
“We’ll be here.”
Killian leaned in so his voice would be picked up clearly, and said, “Robin, mate. It’s Killian. May I ask… What made Regina change her mind?”
Silence echoed over the line to the point that Emma wondered if Robin had ended the call before Killian spoke. The clearing of a throat attested otherwise.
“I’d prefer to have that conversation in person… if you don’t mind.”
Emma shared a bemused look with Killian who haltingly replied, “Sure thing, mate.”
A heavy sigh crackled over the phone. “Thanks. We’ll see you both soon.”
“Aye. Safe travels.”
“See you soon.”
Ending the call, they both sat back into the cushions, dumbfounded over this sudden turn of events. Now that Emma had a chance to process it, a series of concerns ran through her mind.
“You seem vexed, love. Unexpected as it may be, this is a good thing.”
“I know,” Emma said, worrying her lip. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
Turning her body, Emma looked up at Killian, momentarily distracted by his chest, and whispered, “Is it really a good idea for her to come here? What about… you-know-who? We won’t have a chance to… you know, until after dark. Won’t Regina being here to find closure with Daniel amp Cora up?”
“Probably,” Killian responded nonchalantly, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Unless we create a warded area that will keep her from interfering.”
Cocking her head to one side, Emma stared at him with a dubious expression and muttered, “How, exactly, do we do that?”
Shooting her a cocky grin and lifted brow, he crooned, “Leave that to me, love. Leave that to me.”
Emma snorted at his ridiculousness and was once again sidetracked by her phone. “It’s Ruby,” she said, putting her friend on speaker. “Hey, Rubes. I was just about to call you.”
“Too late,” Ruby said. “Belle got me first. I just talked with Graham.”
She shared yet another glance with Killian. They both should have known Liam wouldn’t waste time putting things in motion.
“And?” Emma prompted. “What did he say?”
“He said the best he could do was give you an hour of no patrols at shift change.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ruby replied. “He said, and I quote, ‘the mayor will have my guts for garters if he finds out I suspended patrols this close to Halloween.’ I mean honestly… who talks like that?”
Emma nearly laughed out loud at the affronted look on the face of the man she knew full well said things just like that.
“Sorry I couldn’t do better.”
“You did plenty, Rubes,” Emma assured her. “Do me a favor and let Belle know so she can tell Liam?”
“Will do,” Ruby replied, and Emma could almost hear the shift in her friend’s demeanor before she sultrily inquired, “So… how’s it going with Mr. Hot Cemetery Makeout Guy? You buy a ticket on that ride yet?”
“Ruby!” Emma exclaimed as Killian choked on the last bit of coffee he was polishing off and erupted into a fit of coughs.
“Oh, shit! He’s right there, isn’t he?”
“I have to let you go.” Without waiting for a response, Emma hung up and got up from the couch. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
His hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her, and he managed to croak out, “It’s fine, Swan. No need.” With one last cough, he cleared his throat then swallowed hard against the tight knot that had formed there. “See? Right as rain.”
“I’m sorry about Ruby, she’s…”
“No need to apologize,” he said, and it seemed to Emma that he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was only half dressed. Releasing her wrist, he stood and headed towards the hallway. “I should get myself dressed. Robin and Regina will be here soon, and we need to…”
“Right,” Emma agreed, feeling a bit self-conscious about her own appearance. The thin material of her shirt likely left little to the imagination, especially since she wasn’t wearing a bra, to say nothing about the painted-on quality of her leggings. “I need to shower and get ready.”
Her face went red at the mention of a shower, and the traitorous thought of asking him to join her. Fortunately, Killian spoke again before her tongue could betray her.
“I’ll check-in with Liam and let him know of Regina’s impending arrival. Take your time. I’ll take care of getting things ready.”
As much as Emma wanted to question him about what that might entail, her instinct to run whenever things got emotionally overwhelming took over. Though she’d spent years trying to overcome the reaction and the root of its cause, it still reared its ugly head from time to time. Usually, she would berate herself when it did, but this time she was glad for it.
Racing up the stairs, she entered her room and firmly closed the door behind her. Shedding her clothes, it wasn’t until she was under the spray of the shower--the dial turned to a much colder temperature than usual--that Emma allowed herself to face the truth of why she’d run from him just now.
Because if she hadn’t, she would have done as Ruby suggested, and having Regina Mills show up as she was riding Killian probably wasn’t the best way to help the woman get closure.
~/~
It was much later than four before Robin and Regina arrived. Still struggling with doubt and a whole host of other emotions, Miss Mills had apparently insisted the two stop several times along the way. At one point, Robin had called to inform them of their updated estimated time of arrival, which would be cutting it close to the window of opportunity they had to enter the mausoleum. Knowing Emma would need one of the brothers there for support and assistance with helping Daniel move on, it was decided that Killian would stay behind while Liam and Belle - who was the one securing the key from the groundskeeper later that evening - would deal with Cora’s resting place.
When Robin and Regina finally arrived, the former extended heart-felt apologies while the latter coolly offered a ‘sorry I’m late’ before strolling into the structure she likely had not set foot in for many years, possibly decades. Emma welcomed them both, her nerves taking over and causing her to overshare about the remodel as Regina perused her surroundings. It wasn’t until Killian invited them all to have a seat in the living room, offering beverages that might make the situation a little less tense that everyone began to relax and soften.
“I must say,” Regina stated, accepting the offered libation being handed to her, “you have done a remarkable job here. Everything looks impeccably finished yet it feels so homey.”
“Thank you.” Swan took a swallow of her own drink, obviously allowing herself time to formulate a more in-depth response.
Killian, however, did not wish to waste time on small talk. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he began, cradling his tumbler in his hands as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on the tops of his thighs, “what changed your mind about coming here? You did not seem very keen on the idea when we left you, and given the amount of stops you made along the way, it seems you may not yet be completely at ease with the decision to be here.”
“Yes, well…” Regina took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. “You’re right. When you and Miss Swan left, I thought you were either some sort of conman team set out to swindle me, or completely insane.” Glancing over to the man seated beside her on the sofa, she added, “But after you were gone, Robin sought me out to check on me, and after I told him what you had said, he…”
Hesitantly, Robin reached over and took Regina’s hand, picking up on her distress before it became apparent to either Emma or Killian.
“I asked Regina whether she was willing to take the chance on you not being crazy and missing out on the opportunity to heal a long held wound.” Shifting in his seat, Robin met Killian’s eye and said, “I have some experience with unrestful spirits. My wife, Marion, visited me after her death.”
Robin gave them both an appreciative nod then shared the story of his wife’s passing. Her death had been sudden and tragic; a fire had broken out at her workplace and due to several fire code violations, she and several of her co-workers had perished in the blaze. Robin had been out of town for work in a rather remote area and had not spoken to his wife for several days, only communicating via e-mail. When he was notified of what happened, he’d been told she was identified by dental records and there was no need for him to identify the body. In fact, he was encouraged not to, being told he would not wish to remember her that way.
“Of course, I said good-bye to her at the funeral, but…” Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, Robin looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to quell the tears pooling in his eyes. “It felt so empty. I remember being tortured by the fact that I couldn’t even remember the last thing I ever said to her. Had I told her I loved her? Had I made her feel missed? Or had I been short and flippant because I was busy?”
Taking a fortifying drink, he gave himself a moment before clearing his throat to continue. “It was about a month after her death that I started to… experience things.”
“What sort of things?”
“The smell of her perfume, an indentation on her pillow, the feeling of her presence, and what I thought to be the occasional glimpse of her in the corner of my eye. I thought I was going mad, and I confided in one of my mates, Will.”
“And did this Will believe you?”
Robin let out a light chuckle. “Not only did he believe me, he dragged my arse to a psychic medium he knew.”
“You went to a psychic?” Emma inquired, fascinated. “Who?”
“A woman by the name of Zelena,” Robin told her. Killian filed the name away in the back of his mind and encouraged the man to tell them more about the meeting with her. “She backed up all my experiences. Said that those who die suddenly or violently often have difficulty moving on due to having unfinished business. She, uh… she helped me get closure. She helped me say a proper good-bye.”
Killian did not wish to offend the man, but he had to ask. “And you are certain she was… legit?”
To his relief, Robin smiled at the question. “Regina said the same thing.”
“I did,” Miss Mills said, sheepishly. “And I’m still not sure I believe in ghosts, or psychics, or any of this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the room around them. “But what Robin told me in reply made me at least keep an open mind and be willing to see this through.”
Killian and Emma shared a common look of curiosity before Swan asked, “What did you tell her?”
“I told her,” Robin said, squeezing Regina’s hand. “That even if I had imagined everything that had happened after Marion’s death, and even if Zelena was a total fraud… The closure was real. The peace is real. The firm belief that Marion is in a better place, her unfinished business resolved… that’s real. And it has allowed me to move forward through my grief into a life that is still worth living.”
A long pause hung in the room; Robin and Regina looked fondly at one another while Killian and Emma shared furtive glances. The buzz of Killian’s phone broke the reverie, and he apologized as he pulled the device from his pocket.
Key acquired. Headed to the cemetery. The text from Liam read. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Killian turned his attention back to the couple who was looking at him expectantly.
“So…” Regina drew out, hesitantly. “What now?”
“Now,” Killian replied, getting to his feet. “We get you and Daniel the same closure.”
@hollyethecurious I can only apologize again for taking so long to properly comment and reblog, but I love how you are deftly bringing the threads of this story together and begin to wrap it all up with such interest and emotion.
I will admit to sometimes having trouble relating sympathetically to Regina, but you have done such a lovely job with her on this. I do feel for her, and genuinely want her to find peace at last in knowing the truth of what really happened with her first love and finally helping Daniel to move on. What you’ve really cleverly done here is remind us of the young canon Regina, who wasn’t yet the Evil Queen and simply loved a young stable boy. Cora is the true villain here, and it is clearly obvious. We can see how much she and Daniel must have once loved each other, how torn apart Regina was by his disappearance, and we have already become hugely invested in Daniel through Emma and Killian’s encounters with him. All of that, plus (just like in the show) immediately taking a liking to Robin and knowing he sees goodness in her, makes this story’s Regina easy to root for and care about. I loved how Robin explains about Marian’s death and the peace and healing he found to move on, and Killian saying at chapter’s end that they are going to get the same for Regina and Daniel. All of that section is really beautifully done. 🧡😍🧡
There were so many good parts in this chapter honestly, that it was hard to choose ones to highlight without fearing I had left something important out of the mix. I enjoyed the opening in the cemetery and how clearly it brought both Emma and Killian’s minds back to the night they met. I loved the steamy moment when they’re pressed together hiding from the patrol. That was electric!! 🔥 And I loved the playful, teasing camaraderie between, not just Emma and Killian, but Emma and Liam and between the brothers as well. This was the dynamic I would have adored getting to see in canon, and it was so much fun to witness here.
Plus, I loved Liam’s more heartfelt and serious words to Killian after they drop Emma off: “I think,” Liam countered in a somber yet affectionate tone, “you should give yourself permission to fight for what you want. Give yourself permission to be happy. You deserve that as much as anyone else, little brother.”
And the next morning when Emma sleeps late, only to be greeted by a shirtless, sleep-rumpled, delicious and grinning Killian waiting for her with coffee?!? ☕️🔥☕️ WOW, there’s an image!! That whole scene between them is also lovely! And of course, Ruby hilariously embarrassing them both when she calls as well!!! Priceless!!
I love this story A LOT!! And am beyond excited for the final chapter!!! 😍😍😍
colliderdotcom: Colin O'Donoghue and Sean Maguire argue about who had the bigger sword during Calgary Expo with Collider's Maggie Lovitt ⚔️You can watch the full video on Collider Interviews Youtube channel.
#colinodonoghue #seanmaguire
wendythepirate1: Colin answers the question if he is planning to perform live in a play in the near future. (MegaCon: Saturday, March 21, 2026). #colinodonoghue #colinodonoghueedit #colinodonoghue1 #colinodonoghuefans @onceabcofficial @colinodonoghue1 (Video by my daughter @englacas)
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