Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Epilogue
Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer
Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?
Rating: E
Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - 11 - 12
Also on: AO3 - FF
A/N: This is it! The end of this story! With special thanks to @kmomof4 for being a kickass beta, @hollyethecurious and @doodlelolly0910for listening to my ramblings and to @darkcolinodonorgasm for being so patient :D Small warning that this chapter talks about miscarriage.
Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@thislassishooked@hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan@branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain@wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910 @darkcolinodonorgasm
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Six Months Later
Killian hated conferences, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be the person attending it. The hotel was like every other mass erected, stone monstrosity owned by the Gold Corporation and they were spread all over the city. New York was plagued by Gold and his business endeavours, like a scourge across the city, breaking up people’s lives and homes to build more and more. Gold had his fingers in all sorts of pies, but Killian could see each and every one of the corners that had been cut to line Gold’s pockets.
The lobby was drab and the whole building had been designed to let in as little light as possible. The tiles were black, flecked with tiny shards of some gold leaf that glittered in what little light there was. There was a stonework fountain in the centre of the lobby, the concrete worn smooth by years of people sitting on it or curious hands across its surface. It was not powerful, instead, a slow trickle of water rising up through the centre of the main part, a dagger, and exiting through the top of the handle. The blade looked almost real, and Killian could see that someone on the staff had kept it clean despite the best efforts of the corrosive water.
The noise in the lobby was overpowering. The mixer had been organised by Gold Corp to announce the inception of yet another building, although this time, Killian had to admit it was a much worthier cause. The hospital next door to the hotel was expanding, opening its doors to more people with a huge extension project of its emergency department. It would mean better, faster, more specialised care for every patient that walked through the doors in need. Whilst out of character for a parasite like Gold, Killian had heard rumours that his new wife was the main influence for his sudden and spontaneous growth of a soul. Killian would never have dealt with Gold otherwise.
So many people made Killian nervous. Everyone looked his way as he made his way from the check-in desk, every set of eyes piercing into him from all directions. Ever since Emma had left, Killian had been mostly off-grid. David had signed him up for a short six-month expedition to help design and build orphanages in underdeveloped countries, and it had been single-handedly the best and worst six months of Killian’s life. He couldn’t contact Emma before he left, and the signal was spotty at best under the blazing heat of the African sun, so to say he had little human interaction lately was an understatement. New York was the opposite of isolated.
There was another problem. Emma lived in New York.
Killian could go and represent the company, smile and shake hands with everyone he met with all the charm and charisma he had, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he ran into Emma. They hadn’t talked since shortly after she had come out of the hospital, sleep taking him before he had known what was happening and the sheets as cold as ice when he awoke the next day. She had left a note.
At first he was angry, not at her but himself, for not realising sooner that she had felt so lost. She had asked for time and he had obliged, naturally, he would have given her anything, but his patience wore thin very quickly. Then he had tried to contact her with no success, each phone call ending with a generic disconnected error message. David was no help either. He simply reminded Killian that if he truly loved Emma, then he would respect her wishes. She would come back, she just needed time. Killian gave her time and tried to respect her wishes, but when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, David had told him to stop chasing someone who didn’t want to get caught. Stop trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found.
And then, David delivered the devastating news that crushed the only hope Killian had left. The baby was gone, how he wasn’t sure because there was no explanation, but it was gone. Oh, and Killian was going overseas for no less than six months to help build a home for unwanted children. Killian’s child had been wanted, and he found a great calmness in creating a home for those unfortunate enough to be unwanted. There wasn’t a day that went by when Killian didn’t think of Emma and what she must be going through, but without a way of contacting her, he just had to live with the knowledge that the most overprotective brother he had ever met would be there for her.
Two nights in the hotel was all Killian had to survive before he could go searching for her. The panels were only a few hours long, one on each day and the interlude between would be the time Killian needed to take advantage of the free wi-fi and look up the elusive Dr. Emma Swan. Maybe he could find a new phone number for her? A work address? Home address?
“You sound like a stalker, Killian.” A chuckle escaped his lips as he swirled the honey coloured rum around in the bottom of the glass in his hand, his fingers hot against the cool of the chilled glass. He threw his head back, emptying the last remnants of his third rum into his stomach with barely a swallow to ease his mind.
The mixer behind him was in full swing, lights dimmed lower as the evening had drawn on, the sound of high heels and fake laughter echoing through the hotel bar. Tomorrow would be the first day of talks, the first day of business, but for now, the bar was free to all VIP guest speakers. Even if he wasn’t talking until day two, Killian was certainly keen to drown out the echoes of grief with a quick flash of his VIP card. And who knows, maybe he could even drown out the day one talks whilst he was at it.
He slipped off his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. The room had become suddenly hot, musty with the smell of day-old sweat and stale perfume as his peers danced the evening away, and Killian quickly unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled his shirt to his elbows. The bar, its rolled edge capped with brass, was cold against his arms as he leaned forward and waved his laminated VIP card at the barman again with a tight-lipped smile.
After his fifth rum, Killian was sure that his brain was playing tricks on him. Everyone in a cute little cocktail dress looked like her, and everyone with a blurring flash of blonde hair smelled like her, but when the buzzing in his ears cleared enough that he could hear voices again, only one sounded like her. Killian twisted his body on the high, leather-coated bar stool, only for his vision to blur and betray him instantly. He blinked a few times, vision focusing on a blur of red and a flash of yellow he would recognise anywhere.
Emma Swan was here, in the same hotel, and she was gorgeous.
Her hair was longer, set into loose curls that bounced on her shoulders with each shake of her head as she talked into the brand new phone pressed to her ear. Killian could still see the seal of plastic around the edge of the device that had yet to be peeled off, and even slightly tipsy, he could tell it was a new model. None of that mattered once his eyes fell on her body, slightly rounder in places than he recalled but no less delectable, the figure-hugging little red number clinging so tightly to her body he could have sworn she was poured into it.
A long, agonizing stare down her long, perfect legs and he was met with her ankles, delicately strapped into some kitten-heeled red leather shoes that matched her dress. Killian could see the tiny, hand-stitched strap around her ankle had recently been loosened to a new hole and the swell of her ankles was most likely to blame, the strap still digging into her flesh in the name of fashion. Also to note, in the name of fashion, was that she wasn’t wearing a bra, the shape of her breasts and swell of her cleavage adding to Killian’s already inebriated state.
With a panic, he spun back around until he was facing his distorted reflection in the curve of a half emptied spirit bottle hanging in the bars optics. His head was spinning, his eyes struggling to focus on anything, and his hands splayed out, sweaty palms heating the surface beneath them as he took one, two, three deep breaths in an attempt to ground himself to the bar. To anything really. For so long Killian had an idea of what he wanted to say to Emma if they ever saw each other again, but now, as he lifted his head and caught her reflection staring back at him through the optics before him, it all disappeared.
“You’re here,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the beat of the music. “David said you would be here.”
Killian narrowed his eyes, finally turning to look at her as she planted herself down on the stool next to his. A little shorter, she had to hop up onto the plush material, but when she finally stopped moving, blurry around the edges from his alcohol intake, Killian opened his mouth but no words came out. He was at a loss for words, still not believing what his eyes were seeing. Emma Swan, here, next to him, after six months of dead ends and runarounds, she was real and just how he had remembered her. Perfect.
“Don’t be angry with Dave,” Emma said finally, waving the barman off with a shake of her head when he eagerly approached her. “He only did what I’d asked.”
“I tried to find you,” Killian slurred. The emotion was clear in his voice, as was the shock.
“I know,” Emma soothed, placing her hand over his on the bar surface. “I just-,” she began but Killian silenced her when his other hand landed over the top of hers.
“Emma, are you alright?”
His words were so simple and yet, Emma had no simple answer to his question. She knew it held a million meanings as well as a million more questions about what had happened to her in the last six months, but none of them was easy to answer, especially in a hotel bar during a work conference. She wasn’t even surprised by his compassion, even if he was drunk but more that he even had an ounce of it for her after what she had done. After she had run away from the conflict in her heart rather than face it head-on and accept that she was at peace with what it was trying to steer her towards. Killian.
“Killian, I’m so sorry,” Emma blurted out, pulling her hand from his. “You don’t deserve anything I have to offer as an excuse for how I treated you.” She got up to leave, tears pooling at her eyelids as she hopped off the stool and attempted to navigate her way to the exit, her heart crushing a little bit more in her chest when she felt Killian’s fingers wrap around her wrist.
“Emma, wait,” he pleaded, bumping into someone but ignoring the glare they gave him when she turned around to look at him. “Please, just…” Killian began through ground teeth, his inner self screaming at him to give Emma what she wanted, to let her go and possibly never see her again, whilst his heart told him to keep her in his grasp a little longer. He looked up, their eyes meeting finally, a clash of darkened blue and muted green expressing everything they needed to know about the other at that moment. Holding her gaze he softened his grip on her wrist a little.
Standing still in a room full of merry people, another person bumped into them and Emma was jostled forward and into his arms. Killian wasted no time wrapping his tattooed arms around her, holding her like it was the most familiar thing to him in the entire world and the colour that crept over both their cheeks was almost the same shade as Emma’s dress.
“Come back to my room,” Killian asked on another plea. “Just to talk,” he clarified when Emma gave him a strange, questioning glance.
She nodded, giving him a quick, soft smile as she peeled herself from his body and righted herself back on unsteady feet. Her heels were killing her, and she had only been in them for two hours, the mingling and greeting people who were paid way more than she ever would adding to her ire. Killian offered her his hand, reaching behind himself and pulling his jacket from the bar stool before he did, and she took it, settling her fingers across his palm like a warmth he had missed on a winter's day.
“Just to talk,” Emma agreed and fell into step behind him.
Silence. That was all that was between them as they made their way across the lobby of the hotel and stood at the elevator, waiting for it to reach them. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, but when Emma had slipped her hand from his as they had come to a halt, Killian tried to ignore his rationale telling him it was a bad omen, an indication of what was to come, when in reality she had just done so to press the call button. His mind swirled, everything about her sending his brain into overdrive, questions forming on the tip of his tongue and threatening to escape, and it didn’t stop when the elevator arrived at the lobby with a chime and they stepped inside.
They were the only ones there, the metal box creaking under their combined weight when he reached over and pressed the number for his floor. The round button lit up and the doors slid closed with a clunk, the elevator dropping a little as it reset its destination and was pulled upwards by the pulley cable hidden above them. There was no music, not even the cheesy instrumental music that sometimes came with elevators, and Killian was thankful because his curiosity got the better of him and without warning, he hit the emergency stop button and the elevator ground to a sudden stop.
“Killian!” Emma screeched, losing her balance and falling hard against the back wall.
“I’m sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, rushing to her side and catching her before she had time to twist her ankle. He held her up, clutching her elbows and allowing her a few seconds to right her dress until he was sure she was okay and then stepped back out of her space.
Emma looked up at him, and when she brushed her perfectly curled hair out of her face, Killian saw through her exterior, inside, where she kept all of her emotions, her love, hidden away from everyone. Everyone except him. He had always been able to see into her soul, effortlessly scale the walls surrounding her heart, and now that they were no longer in the bar, he could see pain. It had dulled the vibrancy of her eyes, paled her skin to an eerie white and when her eyes clouded with tears, it wasn’t just because she might have hurt herself against the wall.
“Stop,” Emma huffed.
“Stop what, love?” Killian asked softly.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She waved an accusatory hand in his direction. “Like I have answers.”
Killian licked his lips nervously. “Emma, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t have questions because you know I do, but I can’t let you go. Not again.”
“Killian,” Emma breathed, her voice low and cracking in the back of her throat as she looked away. “You’re drunk and a lot has changed in six months.” Her words stung like a wasp, stabbing him in the heart at the sudden realisation she was right. “Holding me in an elevator won’t change any of that.”
“Is there-,” he began with hesitation but to his relief, she shook her head as if reading his mind.
“No one else,” she confirmed gently with a sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Than what did you mean?” Killian frowned.
“Nothing,” Emma mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.
“In my experience, when a woman says ‘nothing’, it is rarely nothing.” Killian moved to lean against his side of the elevator, hands gripping the brass bar, and gave her a small smile when she dropped her hands and looked up at his words. It was a hopeful smile that she had tried to resist once and failed, and it gave her pause.
“Are you happy?” She asked him suddenly.
“Are you?” Killian countered.
“I asked you first,” Emma said defiantly.
Again, Killian licked his bottom lip nervously and began worrying the flesh with his teeth. He let his head roll back until it collided with the wall, bright lights blinding him from the ceiling, a burning sting in the back of his eye that he ignored as he contemplated her question. He knew the answer, and she probably knew the answer, given how vehemently he had tried to find her, but she wanted to hear it, and maybe, in a strange coincidence, so did he. Saying it out loud made it real, justified his feelings, cementing them and putting them out there for her to see.
“No,” he croaked, rolling his head forward again when the light in his eyes became too much. “I’m not. I thought seeing you again would fix me, give me a closure that I know only you can provide, but it’s gone horribly against my favour, and now, with you here, all I have in my mind is more questions than before.” Killian swallowed, catching her eyes as they shifted to his throat and back up to his. “All I want is for you to be happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Emma. You know that right?”
She nodded but her head barely moved.
“And you can call me drunk, or whatever you think I have become, but there is one thing I know I most definitely am, and that is lost.” Killian pushed himself off of the wall and the elevator rattled in the shaft, swaying from side to side as he took a step towards her. “I’m lost without you, Emma, each and every day we have been apart, and do you know why?”
She shook her head, eyes darting to his lips and an expectant blush creeping over her neck and chest. Killian took one more step, within reaching distance and her breath caught in her throat.
“I’ve lost the best part of me.” He swallowed and took a breath. “You will always be the best of me, love.”
Killian reached out and with a steady hand, tucked a stray tendril of Emma’s hair behind her ear, a delicately caressed her cheek with his palm. His fingertips brushed her skin and she let her eyes fall closed, her entire body surrendering to the tiniest of touches, her shoulders sagging and her skin itching with anticipation. She thought he would kiss her, expected to feel his lips on hers at any second, but when he didn’t, she opened her eyes with a flutter and felt Killian pull his hand away.
He let his hand linger a little at the side of her face, stroking the apple of her cheek with the pad of his thumb, slightly roughened by the nature of his profession, but no less soothing to her skin. Emma had yearned for his touch since the day she had left, but so many things kept her from seeking him out or allowing him to find her, and before she could contain it, her life had spiralled out of control and all she could do was carry on running.
They were broken, incomplete without the other, and without saying a single word, they both knew it.
“I need to show you something,” Emma said with a slight cough to clear the emotion from her throat. “But not here,” she added, flicking her eyes to the emergency stop button behind him. “My office. Next door, in the hospital.”
--
The short walk to the hospital next door took more time that Emma would have liked. Obediently, Killian followed her at a respectful two or three paces, her heels clicking against the pavement as she hurried through the cold of the evening. It whipped at her skin, her shoulders now covered by her evening coat, but her legs still open to the elements. It caused all of her skin to burn with instant heat as her hairs stood to attention in an attempt to trap warmth, but her freshly shaven legs were no match for the chill, and so Emma rushed between buildings to avoid it.
They entered via a side door to the emergency department, the safest options considering it had recently become a building site, and still, Killian kept on her heels. They made their way down a narrow hall, obviously halved by the construction, through some free flowing clear tarpaulin hanging from some scaffolding, and then through another door at the end of the hall. The floor was littered with dust and bits of stonework from the renovation and it stuck to Killian’s shoes as the warmth of his feet made the outer leather humid now, attracting the dirt like honey to flies.
“This isn’t the part where you kill me, is it?” he joked as he ducked under another tarp.
“Just taking you the back way,” Emma laughed, motioning him to follow with a wave of her hand as she reached another door. It looked more like how a door in a hospital should, white with a tiny porthole window and a keypad to one side. Emma took her keycard from her purse and swiped it over the scanner on top of the manual keypad, the light turning from red to green and a click signalling the release mechanism for the door. “Come on," Emma coaxed as she pulled the door, holding it ajar for him.
Killian stepped after her and was immediately hit with the warmth of the hospital. Outside had become a lot colder than was usual for this time of year, but he figured it was because they were in New York. The second thing he noticed was the lighting. It was dimmed to almost darkness in both directions except for a nurses station at the one end of the hall, and beyond some double doors in the other direction. Before he had time to ask her where they were, Emma laced her fingers with his and gently tugged him after her down the silent hallway.
“Is this part of the hospital closed for work too?” Killian asked, peaking into darkened rooms as they walked.
“No,” Emma told him. “The lights are like this for the patients.”
Killian wasn’t sure what she meant until they arrived at a huge window pane that separated them from another room that seemed to be in complete darkness apart from a few patches of light that were spread out in no particular order. A nurse was in there, he could see that, flitting between the patients at a snail's pace, checking charts and monitoring them, jotting down figures on her clipboard every so often. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Killian soon discovered that the dim lights were because ‘the patients’ were in fact babies and they were standing outside of the ward that looked after all premature and ill babies that required specialist care.
“I come here to think,” Emma told him without turning from the glass. “It’s quiet and peaceful. My escape.”
Killian watched her profile, David’s words coming back to him in a flood of sadness.
The baby is gone.
“It shouldn’t be,” Emma continued. “So quiet, I mean. All of these babies should be screaming their lungs out for their mothers.”
Her words trailed off a little and she sighed, breaking Killian’s heart in two. If things were different, maybe even half as different, then Emma would never have to stand here and wonder what it would be like to be a mother. She wouldn’t have to watch tiny, transparent skinned babies fight the hardest battle they ever would, clinging to life behind a perspex case that kept them warm and in some cases, breathed for them.
“Are you allowed up here?” Killian whispered to her as he ran his hand down her arm and held onto her elbow. He gave it a small squeeze, drawing her attention to him and Emma turned to him in the darkened hallway and gave him a reassuring smile.
“Do you remember what you said to me the night of the storm?” She asked him in a hushed tone, ignoring his question. When Killian gave her a confused look, she continued. “You said, ‘Dave’s always right’, and I believed you. I believed him when he suggested I would be happier coming home to New York.”
“You were miserable in Storybrooke,” Killian said gently and Emma nodded.
“But I was miserable here too,” Emma told him, turning back towards the glass. “I had nothing, no one and then…”
“I’m so sorry.” Killian swallowed hard, petrified for her reaction. He’d done so much research into the subject of miscarriage following David’s words, scoured the internet in search of support groups for mothers and fathers, so in the event he ever saw Emma again, he would know what to say. Except now that she was here, he couldn’t find anything but an apology.
Emma looked over to him, giving him a warm smile that was enough of acceptance that he smiled back, but the next words out of her mouth sent his relief plummeting to the bottom of his stomach and beyond like a rock tossed into a deep lake.
“I can’t have children ever again,” she shrugged but Killian saw her bottom lip quiver. “That’s what I meant when I said a lot has changed.”
“Emma, I don’t care about that, all I care about is-,” Killian began hopefully, but she silenced him by holding up her open hand.
“Please, let me finish,” she begged and Killian nodded, clamping his jaw shut. She turned to face him, the tear lines marking her face as she blinked and a new wave of emotion took over her. “I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I was such a coward. I love you. I love you so much and there is no excuse for the way I treated you, Killian, and maybe if I hadn’t...” Emma looked down to her feet, a sob escaping her throat when Killian hooked a crooked finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “How can I ever ask you to forgive me?”
Killian almost didn’t recognise the person in front of him anymore, a meek shell of the woman he had once known. Who would have kicked his arse not six months ago with her sass alone. Here she was now, pale faced and weary, tired lines and dark circles under her eyes telling him that he could, without any sort of doubt, forgive her, whatever they had been through. This wasn’t just her second chance, it was his too.
“Emma, love,” Killian said softly before pulling her into his embrace and tightening his hold around her. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and exhaled hard, the warmth of her against him like a home he had missed. “I’ll always forgive you.”
--
Killian had stayed in New York after the conference and David had let him. Killian didn’t care if it was through his guilt or because his sister had told him to say yes, but either way, he was thankful for David’s decision to let him and Emma mend. They had taken it slowly like they should have done from the start, and over the few weeks they spent together, they found more joy in being around each other than either of them cared to admit. It wasn’t just the small glances and loving touches here and there, but every moment they spent together resonated with such love that it took their relationship onto a new level.
They had loved before, but it was different then, a more physical love that Emma had since admitted she had thrown herself into just to forget the pain of losing her mother. Killian understood completely and felt glad she could share that with him. It didn’t mean he loved her any less, knowing that her intentions were for a one night stand, but it did mean he loved her more knowing that she could admit how much she had missed him.
It meant the world to see her smile now, really smile, for a while at least. They still visited the NICU, often in the late hours of the day after Emma had finished her shifts, and that was when Killian noticed she smiled the least. They had migrated from one side of the glass to the other and both of them had found that the quickened beeps of the machines and lack of adults around gave the room a strangely familiar feel, something they both had accustomed too.
Every once in a while a parent would visit and they would leave the room, continuing to stand on the other side of the glass so they could maintain a little privacy. It crossed Killian's mind once or twice, to ask Emma exactly why the NICU was somewhere she felt calm, but he didn't push the subject, considering what had happened to her. Maybe she just felt safe there and he wished more than anything he could make her feel the same way again.
"Did we break up?" Killian asked with a cheeky smile, one that he knew Emma wouldn't be able to resist. When she looked up from the chart in her hand, after skimming over the notes of this particular baby, she gave him a narrowed glare. "I mean, you didn't explicitly say in your note," he teased, biting his tongue.
"Well, you flew off to a third world country to build orphanages and schools," Emma countered, replacing the baby's chart on the railing at the end of the cubicle it was asleep in.
"Ah, but I never wanted to go," Killian told her with a raised brow.
"But you did," Emma said flatly, the corners of her mouth ticking up into a smirk.
"If you'd needed me, I would have been on the first available flight back, you know that."
Killian's words changed the mood a little and Emma looked away from him, her smile fading. The truth of the matter was that she had needed him, at the worst possible time, but she wasn't sure how to contact him, let alone explain what had happened. That and the details were not something she wanted to dwell on alone, each day reminded of such with her visits to the NICU. They had become much easier since Killian's decision to stay, but we're still so hard.
"Are you alright, love?" Killian's voice shook her back to reality and when Emma opened her eyes after a few clarifying blinks, he was standing in front of her and his soft fingertips were brushing the skin behind her ear as he toyed with the hair there. "I didn't mean-"
"I'm sorry," Emma said shakily, her gaze dropping between them. "I'm just having a rough day."
"Anything I can do?" Killian offered, dipping his head to catch her eyes once more.
Emma smiled, short and warm, but ultimately shook her head. "You know, some of these kids are hundreds of miles from their parents," she sighed. "We are a specialist hospital, and some people just can't commute to visit their sick babies." Killian watched as she traced the outline of a baby's face through the perspex window, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t know if I could be that far away knowing my child was that sick.”
“Me neither,” Killian agreed.
“Really?” Emma didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but her voice had obviously betrayed her when Killian leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to one side.
“Of course,” Killian insisted in earnest. “There wouldn’t be a thing on this earth that could keep me from my child.”
Emma had no response before the baby in front of them stirred, scrunching his little chubby cheeks and dislodging his nasal breathing tube. It made him cry out as the tape tugged at his cheeks, pulling against the skin that was already paper thin, causing the squeak of discomfort. It was minute, almost inaudible over the sounds of the machines, but without even a prompt Killian was on his feet and at the babe’s side, fingers pressed eagerly to the perspex as he tried to calculate the answer to the baby’s problem.
“It’s okay,” Emma’s voice soothed, and Killian looked up to see she had moved to the other side of the cubicle now. Two tiny portholes into where the baby was sleeping were popped open silently, and in slipped her hands, righting the little boy’s breathing tube so it was back in his nostrils. He let out another high pitched sound that seemed to take all of his energy, his whole chest expanding with the force of it. “I know, I know,” Emma whispered again and Killian watched her with nothing but awe.
The baby boy fussed some more, clenching his tiny hands and stretching his legs out as far as they would go, which wasn’t very far as his tiny temporary home was only as long as an average laptop. Discontent raged inside his plastic home until Emma laid her hand over his tiny chest, and the baby stilled instantly with a content sigh.
“It’s the skin contact,” Emma said in a hushed voice and even though she could feel Killian watching her, she didn’t look away from the baby boy under her palm. When she was happy that the tot had relaxed, she looked up and met his eyes over the top of the incubator. “You want to try?”
“Me?” Killian frowned. “I-,”
"Take off your shirt," Emma instructed with a nod. "And sit back down."
For a moment, Killian was stunned by her demand but also a little intrigued. He had heard of the benefits of skin to skin contact with infants but judging by the way the tot had stilled under Emma's hand, he wasn't so convinced his skin would have anything more beneficial.
"Maybe if I-"
"Just take off your shirt, Killian," Emma teased with a soft smile. "I know what's under there already, and there isn't anyone else around."
"What about him?" Killian smirked, holding her eye contact as he nudged his head towards the incubator. He tugged at the shirt, pulling it over the back of his head and not missing the way Emma's eyes roamed over his now exposed torso.
“I’m sure he doesn’t mind at all,” Emma smiled as he sat back into to chair behind him. “And besides,” she began, popping the clips that held the incubator closed. “This little guy doesn’t care if you are his mommy or his daddy.” Carefully, she lifted the baby from his bed with little fuss, his tiny body limp in her grasp, before navigating back towards Killian, mindful of the breathing tube newly attached to the tot’s face. “He just cares that you are warm,” Emma whispered as she positioned the baby so he was comfortable atop Killian’s inked skin.
Killian froze for a second, unsure of how to hold a baby, let alone a newborn that had clearly arrived way too early. The baby moved a little, unsure of his newly appointed sleeping position until Emma turned his little head so his cheek was flush with Killian’s chest, and his breathing tube was swept aside over Killian’s shoulder. Emma tucked his little legs up until he resembled a small ball of flesh and grabbed Killian’s hand and placed it under the tot’s backside.
“Just relax,” Emma told Killian in a hushed voice. “He’ll relax when you do.”
She took a step back, content with how she had placed the baby, and after one last feeble attempt to voice his concerns, he was still. He was too small to lift his hat covered head but that didn’t stop Killian from instinctively clutching the boy to him in case he managed to wiggle sideways when he felt the tot stiffen.
“See, you’re a natural,” Emma praised in a whisper.
Killian looked up at her for a second, a beaming smile on his face. “I always thought all kids would hate me,” Killian confessed, turning his head to the newborn again. He inhaled the smell of him, a sweet but sour milk tinged scent that he found had an almost calming influence on him as he breathed him in and craned his neck to watch the baby sleep. “Guess I was wrong,” Killian whispered against the baby’s blue hat, lowing his voice in an effort to hear the baby breathing.
“Why would you think that?” Emma tilted her head to one side, shifting her weight onto one hip.
Killian shrugged one shoulder and his fingers idled with stroking the baby’s toes. “Most adults hate me,” he said softly.
“I don’t,” Emma assured him. She moved closer and when Killian lifted his head she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away.
“What was that for?” Killian asked with a grin. “Not that I am complaining,” he smirked with an arched eyebrow.
“Nothing.” Emma smiled that happy smile again, one he had missed so much. “I just feel happy.”
“Only because I took my shirt off,” Killian teased.
“You got me,” Emma said dramatically, rolling her eyes.
The baby wriggled, tiny fingers gripping at chest hair as he snuggled harder against the planes of Killian’s chest. Killian could feel his heartbeat thumping his own skin at a million miles an hour and with a gentle cooing, he managed to soothe the tot back into a state of stillness.
“Does he have a name?” Killian asked absently, watching the baby sigh. “Or do I just call you wiggly baby?” His voice turned into something he didn’t even recognize but wasn’t ashamed of, high pitched but low enough that it wouldn’t spook the baby.
“Not yet,” Emma told him with a shake of her head. “His mother wanted to wait for his father before she chose, but she had no idea when she would see him again.”
Killian pursed his lips and his brow furrowed in confusion as he again craned his neck to take in the little boy sleeping sounding over his heartbeat. “That seems unfair that you don’t have a name yet,” he told the baby gently. “Who knows when you’ll be named now.”
“What would you call him?” Emma grabbed one of the chairs nearby and with short, slow tugs pulled it towards where Killian was sitting. She sat down, leaning her head on her hands before she reached out and stroked a finger down the baby’s downy haired back. “I’ve always thought he looked like a David.”
“How unfortunate for you, wee one,” Killian cooed and Emma stifled a small giggle at his words. “Hmm,” Killian hummed in contemplation and he joined her in stroking the baby’s back. “I’ve always imagined calling a little boy Liam, after my brother, so I’ve never given any other name much thought.” Killian gave the baby another look, watching as his mouth moved with a delicate sucking motion. “Maybe he looks like a Liam David?” He suggested.
“Yeah, that suits him,” Emma agreed.
“Maybe you could suggest that to his mother?” Killian asked eagerly. Whether he liked to admit it or not, he had somehow become attached to the wee babe over the last few weeks he had been visiting with Emma. More than any of the others. He had watched him grow stronger each day, more determined than any of the other babies on the ward to be free of the apparatus that helped him survive, and Killian had developed a rapport with him. He felt like he knew the baby like they had met in a past life, and he did, in a strange way, remind Killian of his brother. “I mean, It’s better than ‘baby nine’,” Killian scoffed.
A sniffing sound caught his attention and Killian looked up to see Emma crying, red faced and watery eyed, her bottom lip quivering just enough for him to notice. She swallowed what seemed to be a huge gulp of emotion, frantically wiping at her eyes and trying her hardest to clear her throat with a small cough that instantly filled him with even more worry. Killian’s heart beat faster with concern and were it not for the premature baby in his arms, he would have bundled her up in his grasp faster than it took for her fat tears roll down her cheeks.
“Emma, what’s wrong?” Killian asked quickly. “Are you alright?”
Emma waved him off with a flick of her wrist and a nod, wiping away at yet more tears with the back of her hand.
“What happened? Did I say something-,”
“It’s just my hormones,” Emma said weakly. “The doctor said they would take a while to get back to normal.”
“I don’t believe you,” Killian said firmly, staring at her until she looked up at him, and when she did, she began crying once more. “Emma, talk to me,” he pleaded.
It was all he could do whilst holding a tiny baby, but he wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms. He knew something was wrong and no amount of words would make it right.
“Emma, please,” he continued. “I hate to see you cry, love. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” Emma whimpered, sniffing. “Nothing is wrong at all.”
Killian gave her a sympathetic look, his head lolling to one side as she sought out some tissue to wipe her nose. Stuck to the spot with the baby in his arms, Killian was helpless to intervene, instead relegated to wait for her return with nothing but his nerves as company. When she finally did return, after what felt like ages, Killian looked over her face for any sign of an answer but instead just found the stains of her tears.
“When Dave said the baby was gone, how did you feel?” Emma croaked.
“Broken,” Killian said without missing a beat. “Like I had lost something more precious to me than anything else in the world, apart from you, of course.” He smiled sweetly and was glad when Emma returned his gesture. “And I hurt. I hurt for you and for us, even if there wasn’t a us anymore.”
“All I wanted was for you to be by my side, and then Dave said you had gone, and I didn’t know how to reach you to tell you.” Emma moved closer, unable to stop herself from dragging her hand across his shoulders as she circled him.
“I know now,” Killian offered, arching his back into her when she draped her body over his and nuzzled her face into the side of his.
“You don’t,” she whispered into his ear, immediately hiding her face under the scruff of his beard. Her hand joined his on the back of the baby and she let her thumb smooth over his. “Killian, I never miscarried,” she whispered, her voice a little lighter than before. She reached down his inked chest and traced the outline of the cheeks of the fragile baby in Killian’s arms. “This is our son.”
Our son. Their son. His son.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, but the second they did, a weight that he hadn’t even noticed was lifted. Killian felt okay, more than that, he felt elated. Beyond wondering how, because at that moment he really didn’t care, Killian felt wonderment and love like he had never before. The tiny baby in his arms was his, small but mighty, strong and tough, a fighter through and through, and it didn’t matter to Killian how on earth he had come into the world because his only fatherly concern at that moment was keeping him safe.
“But Dave said,-” he began, pale faced and prickly heat spreading over his shoulders and neck, but Emma cut him off.
“Dave didn’t mean he had died, just that I had gone back to New York,” Emma told him in a hurry.
“I just believed ‘gone’ meant something had happened and Dave never told me otherwise,” Killian told her.
“This isn’t Dave’s fault. So much was going on, and he was so worried about me, he just let you make your own assumptions. He’s hated keeping this from you, Killian, he really has.” Emma sighed, the emotion choking her in the back of her throat. “He loves you like a brother you know.”
“Of course, love,” Killian nodded with a smile as he instinctively rubbed his hand over the baby’s back. “I feel no ill towards him.”
Emma physically sagged, her shoulders relaxing with Killian’s confirmation that he and Dave would be okay. Things had exactly happened the way she had wanted them too, but Emma knew she would never be able to live the rest of her life knowing that the father of her child and brother were enemies, especially as she would have been the cause of their dispute. Killian’s words were enough, but when he gave her a proud, wide eyed smile, she knew for certain that her life would be just fine.
“I have a son,” Killian laughed out in disbelief. He rose to his feet, baby in arms, and gave her the widest grin Emma had ever seen. “We have a son!”
“He was born too soon,” Emma began emotionally, grabbing his face in her hands and wiping away Killian’s tears as she spoke. “I wanted to call you, to tell you how much of an idiot I had been to run, but then I went into labour and the doctors couldn't stop him from coming, and in the rush all I could remember was Dave’s number and he told me you were on your way to build the orphanages and-,”
Killian cut her off with a kiss, cupping her face in his free hand and ending her rant the only way he knew how. Her lips trembled against his but he didn’t let her go until he felt all of the tension leave her, the muscles in her jaw relaxing and her mouth opening to invite his tongue inside. There was no haste in the kiss, just passion, Emma pouring her apology into it and Killian accepting every last silent word without a single hesitation. They parted, neither wanting to let go as they rested their foreheads together, their tiny son between them in a cocoon of love and warmth, the only things the boy would ever know.
“I love you,” Killian whispered in a gravelly voice. His fingertips stroked her face, coaxing any residual tension from her body with the delicateness of his touch. “Nothing will ever change that.”
“I love you too,” Emma murmured through a smile, grabbing his hand and clutching it to her face.
“All that matters now is that I’m going to be there for you, and this little guy, for as long as you’ll have me.” Killian tucked some of her hair behind her ear, the strands coarser than he remembered them, but no less beautiful. “Does forever sound alright to you?”
Emma coughed out a laugh, nodding her head against his. “Forever sounds perfect.”