Thanks for the prompt! On AO3 if you want it that way.
Emma suppresses a shiver and she attempts to snuggle further into her sweatshirt and seriously wonders how much closer she could get to the fire without actually burning herself.
Mary Margaret had been going insane and in a desperate attempt to divert her anxious energy away from fall decorating, David had suggested a camping trip. It had been a lovely day, hiking through the woods surrounded by reds, golds and oranges of the falling leaves in the dappled warm sunlight.
But damn did it get cold at night in the fall. Emma’s red leather jacket had been more than sufficient in the day, but now she wished she had her big cosy winter coat with her. When nightfall came, the temperature just plummeted.
And here she is, freezing her ass off. She hopes not literally, although her backside is feeling distinctly numb.
“You alright, Swan?”
Emma starts at the words, feeling her cheeks heat up as she wonders if Killian too had been thinking about her ass.
“Um — y-yeah,” she stutters ever so slightly, the merest hint of her teeth chattering. It’s honestly rude to feel this chilled when the scent of campfire smoke is stinging her nose.
Killian frowns, and abruptly stands up and walks to his tent. She’s sure that she shouldn’t watch him go, shouldn’t squint to make him out through the gloom, but she’s intrigued and honestly anything that distracts her from thoughts of frostbite is good.
He stands triumphantly, and turns, a huge bundle in his arms. She has no idea what it is, the moonlight silhouettes him against the sky, framed by two spindly trees that have already lost their leaves to the shifting seasons.
When he reaches her, he drapes the bundle around her shoulders — his sleeping bag, she realises as it rustles as it moves. He sits beside her and wraps it around himself too, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in tight to him.
It’s nice to be snuggled against him like this — too nice.
“Jesus, Jones,” she says, “how big is this thing?”
“It’s a double,” he says.
“I hope you weren’t expecting a partner for the night.” Emma hopes she sounds dismissive, but she feels like her insides have all just exploded with anticipation. They’re meant to be sharing a tent, she said nothing about sharing a sleeping bag too.
“Well isn’t someone feeling presumptuous?” Killian teases and nuzzles at her ear, before murmuring directly into it. “Were you hoping to have an excuse to share my bed?”
Yes.
She snorts derisively and stares hard at the flames of the fire, ignoring the chuckle from him.
“Don’t worry, Swan, I’m not that easy,” he says with a laugh and she tries not to be disappointed.
Killian Jones is going to lose his mind. He's never going to sleep again. Because there is an alien living in the apartment above his. And maybe he's ok with it. Yeah, definitely losing his mind.
Or: Trope-a-palooza for CS AU Week 2k17
AN: I have no explanation for this other than some kind of weird, self-competitive streak where I was like don’t write this and my brain was like haha, just kidding, write it. So, here we are, 8K later and, at last count, I think I’ve managed to shoehorn in five different tropes into those eight-thousand words.
Also on Ao3 if that’s more your jam.
He’s fairly certain he’ll never sleep again.
He’s going to murder whoever moved in above him – it’ll be awful and Killian will enjoy every second of it because if he murders whoever just moved into the apartment above his he might be able to actually get a few seconds of sleep.
Or maybe he’ll just go insane first.
At this point that seems more likely.
The stomping – literal, honest to God stomping – continues, like whoever moved into the apartment above his is trying to pace a hole into their floor and for half a moment Killian wonders what could possibly be so frustrating that whoever moved into the apartment above his has to pace around like that, but the moment of generosity only lasts long enough for him to glance at the clock on his nightstand.
Four thirty in the fucking morning.
He growls, grabbing the pillow underneath his head and smashing it against his face and maybe he’ll just pass out from a lack of oxygen and maybe that’ll help him get some rest.
That doesn’t seem like a particularly healthy train of thought.
“God damn,” Killian mumbles against the pillow, kicking at the blankets tangled around his feet like he’s five years old and it’s just as absurd as trying to plan the murder of whoever moved into the apartment above his.
It’s been going on for a week now – a van pulling up at the end of the block and actual movers carting boxes and something that might have actually been an entire dolly of potted plants and, at least, eight-hundred pounds of paperwork and whoever moved into the apartment above his is, clearly, very important.
And has evolved on a completely different wavelength because he or she or whatever alien life form it was, didn’t need to actually sleep.
“I’m going to murder you,” Killian says, not even bothering to keep his voice low and he’ll take the addition of premeditated on his rap sheet if it means the pacing will stop.
God, why won’t the pacing stop?
The pacing slows down and Killian’s breath actually hitches, pulling the pillow away from his face far enough that he can peer at his ceiling. It’s not quite the stomping it was before, more like cautious steps as if the person – or, still possibly, alien life form – has realized the end is near.
And then it starts again – except it isn’t pacing or quiet steps, it’s an actual kick. Killian snaps up, knocking the blanket off his bed entirely and he’s holding onto the pillow with white knuckles, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
The alien is kicking its floor.
His ceiling.
He’s under attack.
If he wasn’t so goddamn exhausted – and David hadn’t already commented on the apparently ever-growing bags under his eyes every morning for the last week – Killian probably would have been almost impressed by that particular brand of passive aggressive, but, as it is, he’s got to be at the precinct in less than four hours and every single inch of him is desperate for just a few moments of uninterrupted sleep.
Killian lets out a slightly manic laugh, tossing the pillow on the floor and actually jumping out of bed and all of his muscles object to that, jogging towards the almost kitchen in the corner of his apartment.
He grabs a broom he only dimly remembers buying out of the corner, sprinting back towards the bedroom like he’s running the 100-yard dash in the actual Olympics and he’s going to win gold and get the alien in the apartment above his to shut the hell up. Or at least engage in a cease fire.
He’s climbing on top of the bed, broomstick brandished like his actual weapon and banging on the ceiling before he can even consider the absurdity of it all. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Killian shouts, but the broom is, well, a broom and it’s not really doing much and the alien might actually be jumping up and down now.
“You are the one yelling,” it calls back and the alien is a girl or a girl-type alien or probably a woman because an actual small-child girl probably can’t afford rent in Manhattan.
Killian groans, rolling his whole head back and the bags under his eyes are so heavy at this point, he’s almost surprised they’re not pulling him down into his mattress. “It’s four thirty in the goddamn morning, what could you possibly be doing up there?”
“That is so not any of your business!”
“It is when it keeps me up every night since you’ve taken over.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Taken over,” Killian repeats, turning the broom and nearly hitting himself in the face in the process and this wasn’t a very well thought out plan because the top of the thing isn’t making much noise against his ceiling either. This kind of thing always looks better in movies.
“I wasn’t aware we were staging some kind of siege.”
There’s laughter just on the edge of her voice, but that might just be his sleepless mind or maybe he’s just trying to pretend like he’s winning this argument. Killian grins anyway. “Obviously, love,” he says, speaking at a normal level and maybe he should tell Leroy that the insulation or whatever between the walls of his apartment is absolute shit because they shouldn’t be able to just hear each other like this.
Or maybe it’s fate.
He’s clearly lost his mind.
The alien does laugh at that, loud and easy and pure or something ridiculous and Killian stops hitting his own ceiling with a broom. He should dust more – there’s...something falling in his eyes. “Can you dust a ceiling?” Killian asks suddenly and the alien laughs even louder, taking a few more steps until it sounds like they’ve just collapsed on the floor.
“Why would you need to dust your ceiling?”
“So that I don’t get hit in the face with whatever is currently falling on me. It’s got to be dust, right? Anything else just seems disgusting.”
“I have no idea,” the alien admits and Killian drops back onto the mattress with a loud flop, knocking pillows onto the floor and he’s never going to fall asleep now. David will be insufferable. And the coffee in the precinct is shit.
Neither one of them says anything for a few moments and Killian’s eyelids flutter, the broom still, inexplicably, held loosely in his hand when the alien mumbles something from the ceiling. “Oh, God, why are you talking?” he groans and he swears he hears the alien gasp slightly. If he wasn’t going to die of sleep deprivation he would apologize.
“Sorry, sorry,” the alien says quickly and he imagines that she’s waving her hands in front of her. Giant, green, scaly hands. Do aliens have scales? Probably depends. Right?
He’s gone insane.
“That’s what I was saying,” she continues, the floor creaking when she moves again and she’s definitely laying down. “I was apologizing for driving you to want to murder me. Although, if we’re being honest, that’s a really shitty way to welcome me to a new city.”
“Welcome to New York, love,” he mumbles and hopes the alien smiles at that. “You have a name?”
“No.”
“No you don’t have a name?”
“No, well, yeah, I do, obviously, but I’m not going to tell you what it is.”
“And you accused me of being rude.”
“You yelled you were going to murder me not even half an hour ago,” the alien argues, kicking at the floor again, but her voice isn’t quite as indignant as it probably should be and maybe he’s still winning. “In the grand scheme of being rude. I could have you on, like, eight different counts.”
Killian’s heart lurches or maybe stops entirely and he drops the broom long enough to grab one of the pillows of his floor, stuffing it under his head and hitching up one leg. He’s almost comfortable. And he, maybe, likes talking to the alien.
“You’re a cop?” he asks softly and it’s impossible for her to hear him but she does and he probably won’t think about that for the rest of the day.
She laughs again and maybe that’s as good as a shot of espresso or one of those disgusting energy drinks that David has been downing since he and Mary Margaret brought Leo back from the hospital a few weeks before.
“No,” she chuckles and something else lands on the floor that sounds heavy. He hopes it’s not a body. He doesn’t feel like trying to find his badge.
“What are you carting around up there?”
“A blanket?”
“Why was that a question?”
“God,” she groans, moving again and it’s a miracle she hasn’t actually crashed through his ceiling at this point. “Are you a cop?”
“Yeah,” Killian answers easily. He thinks he can hear her quiet gasp, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking and that doesn’t make any sense either because he shouldn’t be thinking about the alien in the apartment above him – wishful or otherwise. “The Sixth. Precinct that is. They just call it The Six, which kind of rude to Toronto, don’t you think?”
She makes some kind of noise – not quite a gasp, but more than a sigh and Killian’s eyebrows pull low as he tries to figure out what exactly it means. He can’t figure that out at almost five in the morning.
“Toronto?” she repeats, just a bit louder than she’d been in the last few minutes like she’s trying to redirect the conversation away from actual police talk.
“Yeah, you know, like Drake and The Six and...Degrassi?”
He’s never seen an episode of Degrassi in his life, but the alien is still laughing and Killian is a bit delirious and he’s absolutely thinking about her. And her laugh. “You know I think using both Drake and Degrassi in an attempt to explain Toronto is cheating,” she says.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, Drake was on Degrassi. That’s...c’mon everyone knows that. He got shot!”
“I promise no one except you knows that.”
“That is just basic pop culture knowledge. His name was Jimmy! His best friend was Spinner.”
Killian scoffs, eyes closing again and maybe the alien is hypnotizing him now – through his ceiling – because he’s almost comfortable and he might be able to get a few hours of sleep. “Now I know you’re making this up,” he mumbles. “No one is actually named Spinner.”
“That wasn’t actually his name. His real name was Gavin.”
“Ah, of course.”
She doesn’t say anything else before he falls asleep.
David absolutely makes fun of the bags under his eyes as soon as he walks into the precinct that morning, crowing with laughter and his own bags because he has an infant at home and Killian can’t even muster enough energy to point that out to him.
“Shut up,” he says instead, sinking into the chair behind his desk and stretching out his legs. “Where’s my coffee?”
David stops laughing long enough to glare at him, nodding in the direction of the shitty coffee at the other side of the room. “Over there. Where it always is. You getting so little sleep that you can’t remember general layouts now? That doesn’t bode well for either one of us. You know Mary Margaret will actually kill you if you let anything happen to me.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Killian promises, shoulders sagging just a bit when he tries to sit up like an actual functioning member of society. Or the New York Police Department. “That, however, would require me to not kill my brand-new neighbor. Or get killed by my brand-new neighbor.”
David chuckles lightly at that, taking a sip of coffee. “You figure out who it is yet?”
“Nah, not really,” Killian mumbles. “I’m not ruling out alien, yet, though.”
“Alien?”
“Yeah, well, she’s pacing around in the middle of the night all the time and I don’t think she actually needs to sleep. The only plausible conclusion is that she’s an alien.”
“Wait, wait, wait, back track for a second. The alien is a girl?”
Killian nods. “Adult female, doesn’t sound too old, but that’s more circumstantial than anything definitive and not a cop.”
“And how exactly did you come to these conclusions?”
“I asked her.”
“So you’ve met her? When?”
“No, no, no,” Killian shakes his head, pushing out of the chair and walking towards the coffee and he’s almost not entirely surprised when David follows him immediately. The coffee even looks horrible. Maybe he should buy a new coffee maker. As a sign of goodwill to...himself. When his alien neighbor keeps him up at night.
“Are you being difficult on purpose or because you realize I can’t actually function with the few hours of sleep I’m getting?” David asks, punching Killian’s shoulder lightly.
He nearly drops the coffee pot. “Ah, c’mon, be careful.”
“Answer the question, Detective.”
“I really haven’t been listening,” Killian admits, pouring the coffee high enough that it nearly overflows his mug and dumping half a pound of sugar into it. David quirks an eyebrow at him and Killian resists the urge to actually stick his tongue out. “I threatened to murder her last night,” he shrugs, pushing around his partner and back to his desk and the mountain of paperwork he can’t actually put off anymore.
“I’m sorry, you did what?” David balks, jogging to keep up with Killian and staring at him like he’s just admitted to several homicides.
“I threatened to murder her,” Killian repeats easily and, at least, three different uniforms stop in their tracks. “Not seriously, obviously. She knew that.”
“So you….threatened to murder her and then what? Talked? Without looking at each other?”
Killian nods. This coffee really is horrible. “Through the floor.”
“Oh, well, yeah.”
“It’s really not as weird as it sounds.”
“It’s definitely as weird as it sounds,” David promises, wincing when he takes another sip of coffee. “Ah, shit, there’s just a ton of coffee grounds in here.”
“You should buy us a new coffee maker. As a celebration of your new fatherhood.”
“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“Worth a try,” Killian shrugs, standing up when Arthur calls for them from his office and he probably should have done that paperwork days ago because now they’re behind and they’ve got about a million metaphorical pieces to work out before they can get a warrant on Gold.
“Hey,” David says sharply, grabbing Killian’s arm and he nearly drops his coffee again. “You’re ok, though? Really? Not going to collapse on me in the middle of the street today? Because Mary Margaret’ll be pretty upset if you die too.”
Killian scoffs, shaking his head and blinking quickly like that will prove how awake he is. “Nah,” he mumbles, nodding in Arthur’s direction when he practically starts screaming for them. “I’ll be fine. Living with an alien’s almost a cool story.”
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“That’s probably for the best, honestly.”
David smiles wryly at him, tugging his phone out of his back pocket – no doubt to show Killian something adorable Leo did in the last twenty-four hours – but now Arthur looks like the one who’s going to commit murder right there in the precinct.
“Jones! Nolan!” he snaps, standing in the doorway of his office like he’s posing there. Or trying to turn them to stone with his glare. “Ten-hut or whatever. Get your asses in here with that mountain of shit I have to sign.”
“Eloquent as always, Captain,” Killian mutters and Arthur absolutely hears, gaze, somehow, sharpening even more as David rolls his eyes and sighs loudly.
“God, Mary Margaret’s going to be disappointed when you’re dead,” he mutters, pushing on Killian’s shoulder. “No free baby-sitting for Leo.”
He sleeps through the night for the next three nights – blissful, dreamless sleep like he’s found his way onto a cloud and he doesn’t think about Gold or Arthur’s expectations or how important this case is to the precinct and the city.
It’s the fourth morning, however, that everything changes.
“Hey, you’re going to be there tomorrow night, right?” David asks, like Killian has any memory of something happening on Friday night.
“What?” Killian mumbles. He doesn’t take his eyes off the papers in front of him or the map of lower Manhattan, a handful of tacks pressed into stores owned by Gold and stores that might be owned by Gold and he doesn’t have time for this.
He can feel his muscles starting to tense again.
“Tomorrow,” David repeats, tapping his fingers impatiently on the map, just in Killian’s eyeline. He sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair, and staring at David with barely any patience. “At the bar?”
“The bar? This is Manhattan, David. There is more than one bar.”
“Don’t be an ass. We go to one bar. We’ve only ever gone to one bar. You need to be there tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“You really don’t remember? I’m almost wounded by that.”
Killian shoots David an unimpressed stare, lips pressed together and, he hopes, a complete look of indifference on his face. He knows he doesn’t work immediately. “Why do you I need to be at this bar that is, apparently, ours tomorrow night? And what time?”
“Killian, we work the same shifts. We get off at, literally, the same time.”
“Answer the question, Detective.”
“My sister,” David says and Killian vaguely remembers something about that, a move to New York and how excited she was about being closer to Leo and maybe something about her job. He’d definitely been too tired to pay attention. “My sister,” David repeats, widening his eyes and punching Killian’s arm – hard. “Moved to New York. Celebratory drinks? Some human contact? Maybe talking to someone who isn’t your alien neighbor?”
“Ok, I talk to plenty of humans,” Killian mutters, turning back towards the map. He can hear David roll his eyes behind him and he smiles slightly at that, another victory in an argument he might be having with himself. “And,” he adds, after a few moments, “I haven’t talked to the alien in a couple of days. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed my decidedly well-rested face.”
“You have far too high an opinion of your face.”
Killian grins over his shoulder, shrugging and appreciating the expression on David’s face. Frustration is a good look on Detective David Nolan.
And Killian has loved sleeping through the night.
Even if he’s wondered – more than once – about the alien and her laugh and questionable knowledge of Canadian television.
“Mary Margaret’s going to be mad if you aren’t there,” David points out, like that’s going to convince Killian to leave his apartment on a Friday night.
It will.
“What time?” Killian sighs.
And David practically cackles when he realizes he’s won.
The pacing starts at three in the morning that night – which doesn’t really make sense, but Killian isn’t going to worry about the particulars when he can hear the steps on his ceiling and the alien grumbling to herself.
He waits ten minutes before he grabs a sneaker and promptly throws it at his own ceiling. He’s fairly positive it’s dry wall that hits him in the face. “Ah, holy shit,” Killian hisses, waving a hand through the air and this was not a well thought out plan.
The pacing stops. And becomes knocking. She’s knocking on her own floor. His ceiling. Maybe it’s a message.
Or maybe she’s just trying to talk to him.
“Cop?” she calls and Killian’s throat feels far too small, his pulse pounding in his own ears and this whole thing is nuts.
“Present,” he says, mostly out of habit and maybe to see if he can get her to laugh and he practically beams when it works.
“I wasn’t aware we were taking roll call.”
“Yeah, well, I thought we were done with the whole pacing thing.”
“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she says, the drywall, or whatever ceilings are made of, falling on the top of his hair again when it sounds like she drops back onto the floor. “It was...well, it was a pretty shitty day at work.”
He’s suddenly very awake. “Oh, yeah? You, uh...you want to talk about it?”
The alien doesn’t answer immediately and Killian wishes, not for the first time, that he’s actually seen her because his mind is far too creative in the middle of the night and he’s far too curious and he can’t decide if he’d rather she did have scales if only so he’ll stop coming up with scenarios to just run into her in the hallway and maybe ask her out...or something.
“Why are you asking me that?” she asks sharply, disbelief practically dripping through her floor and his ceiling until Killian is drowning in it.
“Friendly curiosity?”
“You threatened to murder me a few nights ago!”
“I’m pleading temporary insanity on that front. You were pacing all the time and I wasn’t thinking straight. I had to take extreme measures.”
“That’s not how that works,” she counters. “And your temporary insanity defense isn’t going to stand up in a court. You’re clearly cognizant. You have all your facilities still.”
“You sound like you know exactly what you’re talking about, love,” Killian points out, curiosity piqued again and maybe he should just get out of bed, walk up one flight of stairs and knock on her door. With a bottle of rum. And some kind of plan that doesn’t sound absurd.
She laughs again – a soft, kind of chuckle that he swears he can feel in every inch of him and maybe she does have scales, but he still kind of wants to kiss her. “Maybe I do,” she says. “Know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Ohhhh you’re a lawyer.”
“And I think you’re not just a cop.”
“Detective,” Killian corrects, smiling when he hears a low whistle from the direction of his ceiling. “Is that impressive?”
“Eh, kind of. I’ve known my fair share of detectives and he’s a pretty good guy. So I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt here.”
“Generous of you.”
“I tend to think so.” She’s quiet for another moment and Killian takes a deep breath, pulling oxygen in through his nose and wondering what he’d actually say if he did bring the rum upstairs. He nearly falls off his own bed when she talks again.
“I got assigned a shitty case,” the alien mutters, kicking her foot impatiently on her floor and Killian smiles again because it’s almost endearing, even if he can hear just how pissed off she absolutely is. “And it’s totally because I’m new and bottom of the barrel or whatever, but it’s just…”
“Shitty? Killian ventures and she laughs again. He hopes she’s smiling.
“Yeah, decidedly. It’s not like I’ve never done this before, you know. I’m almost experienced.”
“Almost?”
“Incredibly,” she amends and it sounds like she’s admitting to something. “I have a very impressive resume, Detective.”
“I don’t doubt it. And this isn’t the end of it all, love. You’ve been here for what? Almost two weeks? You win this case and they won’t be able to ignore you or assign you shitty cases. And then it’s roses or something less lame.”
“I’ll take roses,” she says, sounding like she’s twisting and, at least, sixteen different joints hit against the floor. “Were you a motivational speaker in another life, Detective?”
Killian scoffs, pulling his hand behind his head until he’s almost comfortable and maybe he won’t tell Leroy about the shitty installation in his building. He might not mind it so much. “No,” he chuckles and the alien hums in agreement. “At least I don’t think so. I just have a lot of experience with shitty assignments and working my way up some sort of metaphorical ladder. That’s all.”
“Still sounding a bit motivational down there.”
“Just for you, love.”
He doesn’t think he imagines the way her breath hitches at that or the way his eyes widen when he realizes what he’s just said. Shouted. He shouted the words at his ceiling.
“Thanks,” she says and she doesn’t shout the words. She whispers them and he can’t imagine how she hears it.
He doesn’t care.
“You should get some sleep, Detective,” she says, knocking on the ceiling like that will help lull him into unconsciousness. “Can’t have you out there protecting the city when you’re too exhausted to spot proper criminals.”
“I’m not sure you know how law enforcement actually works, love.”
“Eh, I’ve got a pretty solid idea.”
He hums, twisting against the sheets and the suddenly painfully empty bed and that train of thought is absurd because less than a week ago he’d been fairly certain his new neighbor was actually an alien.
“Just uh...start kicking the floor again if you want to talk, ok?” Killian asks, grimacing as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
The alien, woman, love of his life, laughs, the floor in the apartment above his creaking when she moves to sit back up and something drags behind her that he imagines is a particularly fluffy blanket. “Yeah, deal. Good night, Detective.”
“Good night, love.”
He gets enough sleep that he not only remembers the bar event later that night, but he and David make some kind of break through on the case and bring in Jefferson Hatter and get some names out of him and things are going well.
So, naturally, they all need to explode in his face.
Mary Margaret and Ruby are already in the back corner of the bar, perched on stools with drinks in front of them and expectant looks on their faces. “You’re late,” Ruby announces and Mary Margaret shakes her head slowly, eyes flashing skyward like she’s trying to find the patience to deal with any of this.
“A pleasure as always, Lucas,” Killian drawls. David elbows him. Hard. “We are on time. You two are just painfully early. And…” Ruby gags when he doesn’t stop talking. “It appears we’re missing a guest of honor. Isn’t this whole thing to introduce your sister to city-living, David?”
“Ok, well, first of all, don’t ever use that expression again,” David commands, nodding towards the barkeeper and pointing at Killian too. “And, second of all, Em is running late because she had some files to go through at work. She’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
“And what exactly does your sister do?”
“She works in the DA’s office. Just got assigned her first case.”
He should have realized.
If he was thinking clearer and had several nights of uninterrupted sleep, Killian knew he would have realized. But, as it was, he wasn’t and didn’t have either of those things and he was halfway through his first glass of rum when he heard her voice – the door of the bar slamming open and a flash of blonde hair and green eyes and that voice that he was fairly convinced he was half in love with already.
“Hook?” Mary Margaret asks cautiously, gaze just a bit to close to mother for comfort and Killian’s whole body has gone tense.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the voice, the alien, chants, weaving her way through tables and chairs and the Friday night happy hour crowd downtown. “I just totally got caught up in paperwork and Regina is just...she’s crazy about details and systems and it’s, whatever, I’ll figure it out.”
She smiles at the group, eyes falling on Killian quickly and he realizes he’s the only stranger among them. Even Ruby stands up to hug her. “We got you a drink,” David says and the alien clicks her tongue when he doesn’t immediately start introductions.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the glass and holding her free hand out towards Killian. “Emma Swan.”
He doesn’t take her hand.
Idiot.
He stares at her. Gapes at her, more like, mouth hanging open and she’s everything his sleep addled mind had come up with and then some, just without the scales, which, honestly, he’s pretty pleased to see she’s lacking.
“No cooties,” Emma says and Killian blinks like he’s only just learned the English language.
“You’re her,” he announces loudly. Emma’s mouth falls open. “You’re the alien.”
“What?”
“The alien. David, what the hell is this?”
Emma is still holding her hand out in front of her, but she downs her drink in three, quick gulps. Mary Margaret and Ruby look incredibly confused. “I’m sorry,” David starts, tugging the now empty glass out of his sister’s hand. “Do you two know each other?”
“She’s the alien living above me,” Killian shouts. He’s losing his grip on any of this, well aware just how crazy he sounds and it feels like his eyes might actually fall out of his head.
“You’re the Detective threatening to kill me?” Emma asks, rapping her knuckles on the edge of the bar until she gets another glass of whatever it is she’s drinking. “David, seriously, what the hell?”
Ruby laughs – uproariously. Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, pulling David onto the stool she’s just vacated as she glances between Killian and Emma. He can hear the gears working in her head, trying to piece together whatever puzzle they’ve found themselves in and if Killian knows her like he thinks he knows her, she’s probably already picked out the save the dates and several different potential reception locations.
“We didn’t help her move in,” Mary Margaret explains. “There was you know…”
“A painfully adorable baby,” Killian finishes and she shrugs like that’s an explanation. “Right, right, so that explains the very fancy movers.”
Emma tilts her head, breathing heavily and Ruby is probably going to laugh for the rest of her life. If not longer. “You know about the movers?”
“I have eyes, Swan.”
“Stalker ones. Have you been referring to me as an alien to my brother?”
“You were a bodiless voice that’s been keeping me up for the last two weeks!” She blushes slightly at that and it’s almost painfully adorable and Killian kind of hates himself for even thinking that. “David,” he calls, glancing back over his shoulder at his still shell-shocked partner and friend. “How come you didn’t even mention that your sister moved into my building? Even if you didn’t know exactly what apartment which, you know...that’s also weird.”
David blinks a few times, staring at the full glass of beer in his hands like it will, somehow, answer the question for him. “Did I not mention that?”
“No.”
“Not once, really?”
“I would remember that.”
Emma startles at that particular revelation and Killian downs the rest of his drink, alcohol burning his throat and his stomach and that’s probably not the right body part. He doesn’t care. And maybe he takes a step closer to Emma.
“Did he not mention me once, Swan?” he asks and Emma shakes her head.
“Not by name. They call you Hook?”
“It's an Academy nickname.”
“Obviously.”
“Whatever,” David grumbles. “I’m tired.”
Killian laughs softly, staring pointedly at Ruby when she just keeps cackling , mumbling something about how this’ll be a perfect story for the kids and he refuses to even entertain that idea. Not when he can practically feel Emma breathing next to him.
“C’mon, Detective, let me get you something just a bit stronger,” Ruby mutters, tugging him back off the stool and twisting him to the bar.
He doesn’t put up much of a fight and Mary Margaret is nothing short of obvious when she walks away, quirking her eyebrows and lifting the ends of her mouth and Killian isn’t sure who she’s trying to talk to.
He doesn’t care about that either.
“So,” he says after a few moments of almost deafening silence. “Still a shitty case?”
Emma must have been holding her breath because the force of her exhale nearly knocks her off the edge of the stool and she nods slowly, lip pulled in between her teeth. “Yeah,” she says. “Definitely still shitty. You catch any criminals today?”
“You’re a day late with that question, Swan. Ask me next week though and maybe we can celebrate again.”
“That’s a shitty line.”
“It absolutely is. I’m sleep deprived, you see.”
She definitely blushes at that and it’s definitely the most attractive thing he’s seen in, like, at least seven years and he takes a step forward until her knees bump against his. He can see the muscles in her throat move when she swallows – she doesn’t take a sip of her drink.
“I’m sorry about that,” she whispers. “I...sleeping’s not really my thing. When I’m stressed out, I mean. And, well, I’ve been kind of stressed out.”
“Yeah, I put those clues together strangely enough.”
“Impressive.”
He flashes her a grin or maybe a smirk and it doesn’t really work because she rolls her eyes and takes another drink.
It goes on from there.
They make headway on the case and Gold is just out of reach, close enough that Killian is that strange mix of determination and frustration that comes from almost solving a case and Emma paces as much as ever in the apartment above his until it becomes some kind of metronome that he finds he needs to fall asleep.
He doesn’t tell her that.
He does, however, tell her other things.
It’s a Wednesday – nearly a month after the introduction and he’s far closer to anger than determination or frustration – and he mutters something about just wanting to make them proud and she asks who them is and he finds he can’t lie to her.
He doesn’t really want to.
Killian tells her about Liam and how much he wanted and how much he worked for and how it all got pulled away before he could get either and he only stumbles a little bit when he says Milah’s name and that’s better than it usually is and his voice barely even cracks when he talks about the accident and how close he was to walking away from the force when she died too.
He tells her and he...hopes.
And he nearly falls out of bed when he hears the first knock
Killian swings the door open to find Emma standing there with a nervous look on her face and that blanket he’d thought about a considerable amount wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is tugged up, pieces of it falling across her forehead and her shoulders moving quickly like she ran down the stairs.
“Did you run down the stairs?” Killian asks before he can stop himself and her laugh is shaky with that same hope he can feel in his toes.
“I...well, yeah,” Emma mutters. “You shouldn’t have to shout that kind of stuff through your ceiling. And,” she adds, twisting until the blanket falls around her waist. “I brought whisky.”
“Come on in, Swan,” he says, pushing the door open even wider and nodding towards the living room that’s covered in papers and another map of lower Manhattan and her eyes flit over everything as she takes a step past him.
She doesn’t ask about it.
She starts talking instead.
Emma drops into the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up underneath her and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and she tosses the top of the whisky bottle on the table before she takes a particularly long swig.
She tells him she understands and that he’ll figure it out and she believes in him and that does something very particular to his whole entire body, but that might just be the alcohol too. And then she smiles softly and burrows even further into the couch and tells him about Neal.
They drink the entire bottle of whisky.
They fall asleep on his couch.
They go from there.
Killian doesn’t kiss her. He wants to. Desperately. But he doesn’t. Because he’s got his case and she’s got her case and they spend most of their free nights on his couch with a bottle of whisky – which he might like even more than rum now and that absolutely doesn’t have anything to do with Emma or the way the green in her eyes seems to get even sharper two drinks in. They work their way through a stack of menus like they’re taste-testing the entire neighborhood and compare the stories they hear from David and Mary Margaret about Leo’s latest accomplishments.
It’s nice.
It’s comfortable and easy and he finds that Emma fits into every corner of his life as easily as if she’d moved into it with potted plants and a stack of paperwork that’s just taken up residence in the corner of his living room.
And it’s enough. He tells himself that. Constantly. Countless times. Every single day. Because it has to be. She’s David’s sister and, well, she’s David sister and Killian kind of enjoys being alive.
It absolutely isn’t enough.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?” Emma demands nearly three months after the initial alien attack, glaring at him over the top of another stack of paperwork. There’s a pen stuck in her hair and one gripped in between her teeth and a third clutched in between her fingers and Killian realizes, rather suddenly, that he’s absolutely in love with her.
Well, damn.
“Why do you know so much about Degrassi?” he asks.
Emma blinks – the same way David does when Killian asks something particularly stupid or complains about the shitty coffee in the precinct and his heart thuds in his chest, a painful reminder of who’s sitting on his couch. “That’s really what you’re thinking about?”
“Sure?”
“See, turning that into a question makes it seem like you’re not really thinking that.”
“Why did you know about Spinner, Swan?”
She puts down the paperwork, stuffing the pen that she’d been holding into her hair and he can’t believe he’s only justrealized he loves her. And that’s kind of a lie because he was mostly in love with her when he thought she was an alien.
“Because we lived in the middle of nowhere when we were growing up and we had a couple of channels and Maine inexplicably gets CTV and they ran Degrassi reruns in the afternoon,” Emma explains. “How long have you been wondering that?”
Killian shrugs, dropping onto the couch and grabbing a half-eaten egg roll off the coffee table. “Since you started talking about Drake.”
“You started talking about Drake.”
“I don’t know if that’s true, love.”
“I promise it was,” she says, tapping on his forearm with the end of another pen and he wants to ask her about that too, but he doesn’t get a chance.
She kisses him.
He nearly chokes on the egg roll. It is the single least coordinated, least attractive thing he’s ever done. He hopes it never ends.
It does, eventually, because neither one of them are actually alien life forms and do, in fact, require oxygen, but it ends with Emma’s legs perpendicular over his and his hand underneath the hem of her shirt and her fingers holding onto his hair like an anchor.
She presses another kiss against the edge of his lips and it takes every ounce of his not-quite-there restraint to keep himself from just pushing her back against the couch and kissing her until both of them aren’t worried about oxygen intake, but he’s only just realized he’s in love with her and he figures he should take these major life moments one at a time.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since you started talking about Drake,” Emma mutters and Killian’s breath catches again.
She smiles at him.
And they eat all the Chinese food they order. They don’t drink any of the whisky. They don’t really have to.
Emma never stays – not on purpose, at least. There are those few nights when they’re both far too exhausted to move off the couch and the prospect of trying to navigate the piles of paperwork in his living room is far too daunting and they fall asleep wrapped up in each other on the corner of his couch.
It usually ends with a sore neck and an arm that is full of pins and needles instead of blood the next morning, but Killian never complains and he brushes off David’s questions every single time he walks into the precinct with a smile that is just a bit too big to be normal.
They kiss...a lot. They don’t really go out. Because they can’t. And they don’t really define it. Because they can’t do that either.
There’s not really time.
Killian and David are closing in on Gold, a dozen steps forward only to be thrown a million steps back, but it’s a work in progress and he’s not quite as frustrated as he was before, particularly not when Emma’s shitty case goes to trial and he suddenly finds himself cheerleader as soon as closing arguments wrap on a Tuesday.
He’s only just walked into his apartment, barely toed out of his shoes or loosened his tie when the knock comes, Emma’s excited voice on the other side of the door.
“I won,” she screams as soon as he opens the door, launching herself at him and giving him half a second to brace himself. They start making out in his doorway, his hands moving quickly and her fingers tracing across the back of his neck and he knows she’s only got one foot on the ground because he’s still supporting most of her weight.
He doesn’t care.
He kisses her or she kisses him and one of them must have kicked the door because he can hear it slam close when they start walking further into the apartment. They’re a mess of limbs and clothing and Emma’s heel leaves a dent in his baseboard when she shakes it off her foot.
“You’re a menace,” Killian mutters, dragging his lips against her neck and grinning when he can hear her breath hitch, nails digging just a bit harder than usual against his skin.
“Whatever, you like it,” Emma argues. “You don’t even want to kill me anymore.”
“It’d be decidedly weird if I wanted to kill you now, don’t you think, love?”
Emma leans back far enough to roll her eyes and tug on his department-mandated tie. “You are talking way too much. Just like...way too much.”
“Isn’t that your thing, Swan? Talking and arguing and all that lawyer-type stuff?”
“Lawyer. Type. Stuff.”
Killian grins, twisting his eyebrows suggestively and letting her pull the tie off, leaving it in a pile with what, at first glance, appears to be her jacket. And her bag. And her other heel. “That’s just a fact, love,” he mutters, tracing his thumb across her jaw and her eyelids flutter slightly. “What am I going to do without you pacing above me every night though?”
She’s moving him towards his room, twisting and turning and he’s lost his belt at some point. He’s not paying attention to his clothes – although he does notice when one of his buttons actually pops off his shirt, eyes widening at that and Emma scowls slightly, mumbling something that sounds like sorry under her breath.
“Still talking too much,” she grumbles, gasping softly when he turns them around and presses her back against his bedroom door. His hips cant up slightly and neither one of them talks much after that.
Emma stays that night.
It keeps going from there.
It’s weeks later and the bags under Killian’s eyes aren’t because of Emma’s pacing, but his own and he’s so close to cracking this case and getting charges to stick and this guy is evil, should be off the street and behind bars and he just...wants.
A lot.
He wants, probably, more than he deserves, but Emma stays more often and he’s finding it harder and harder to sleep when she’s not curled up against him.
He thinks about that when they raid Gold’s store on West 8th.
Days and weeks and months later he’d probably blame his own inability to sleep on his own, but it’s really just being stupid and wanting to get Gold off the street and Killian moves before he should, before protocol dictates and he hears the clack of the gun before he feels the bullet in his shoulder.
It hurts like hell.
It’s somehow warm and cold and painful all at the same time, breathing suddenly more difficult than it’s ever been before and the gravel presses into his hands and his knees when he crashes to the ground. David tries to stop and make sure he’s ok, but Gold is getting away and the backup is screaming for Detective Nolan and Killian mumbles something that he hopes sounds like I’m fine, but might just be a quiet groan because, honestly, getting shot hurts like hell.
He has no idea what happens next. He closes his eyes, trying to dull the pain and thinks about Emma and her smile and what an idiot he is because he hasn’t told her he loves her or wants her to just move into his goddamn apartment and leave her paperwork everywhere and her weird collection of pens and maybe he wants to marry her.
He definitely wants to marry her.
Killian blinks blearily at some indeterminate amount of time later and he can hear the pacing a few feet away from him and he tries not to actually groan. He dreamt the whole thing. He’s, finally, fallen asleep and he’s dreamt up Emma and the relationship that they’d never gotten around to defining and that’s incredibly disappointing.
And painful.
His shoulder is throbbing.
Oh.
He blinks again, wincing when he tries to move and something pulls where it’s connected to his arm and he hadn’t been able to hear all the machines over the pacing at the end of his bed. Emma is pacing at the end of his bed, arms crossed tightly over his chest and eyes on the wrong side of red and she looks exhausted.
“Swan?” he breaths and she freezes, neck snapping towards him and he sees all the muscles in her throat move when she swallows.
“Idiot,” Emma shouts. She stalks towards him like she’s going to pounce and Killian can’t go anywhere because he’s connected to an IV. Because he got shot. “You goddamn, stupid, absolute idiot, ” she seethes, but her shoulders are moving quickly and she’s out of breath and she’s definitely been crying.
“Did we get him?” Killian asks and her eyes get even wider.
“What? Yes! Of course you got him. God. I...I can’t believe that’s your first question.”
“Why are you here, love?”
“That’s honestly your second question?”
He wishes he could shrug – or focus on anything except how much his shoulder hurts. “Well, it’s not like, we’ve…”
Emma’s jaw drops and she huffs, blinking quickly and shaking her head. “You’re an idiot,” she mumbles, but it doesn’t sound quite as angry and her hand finds his when she takes another step towards him. He tries to squeeze it. “I love you.”
The machine does something – beeps or explodes or something it probably shouldn’t because his heart is beating so quickly he might actually be dying. He probably wouldn’t argue.
Emma ducks her eyes, trying to pull her hand away when he doesn’t respond quickly enough, but Killian manages to hold on even tighter. A nurse sticks her head into the open doorway, an anxious look in the pull of her eyebrows. “Everything ok in here?” she asks and Killian nods immediately.
“Perfect,” he promises. Emma looks up at him. And he waits until he can’t hear the nurse’s footsteps retreat before he opens his mouth again. “Hey,” Killian mutters, tapping his thumb on Emma’s palm. She bites her lip. “I love you, too. Even when I wanted to kill you for keeping me awake.”
“I refuse to take the blame for waking you up just now. That’s just...science or something.”
“Or something,” Killian grins, pulling her hand up and kissing along her knuckles.
They tell David when he comes to the hospital later that night and he pretends like he hasn’t known the whole time, but Mary Margaret mentions something about how he’s totally fine and even good before flashing a conspiratorial grin in Emma’s direction and walking out of the hospital room.
Emma stays.
And it just kind of...makes sense after that. David claims it’s part of his recovery, but Killian is fairly certain that’s just a coping mechanism and he’s not going to argue it so long as Emma stays indefinitely.
David and Mary Margaret help them move boxes from one floor to the other a few months later, Leo sitting in a pop-up playpen in the corner of Killian’s living room and Ruby nearly trips over a pile of Emma’s pens that have, somehow, found a spot in the kitchen.
“I love you,” Emma mutters, tucked up against his side with half-eaten containers of food laid out across the coffee table and the top of unopened boxes and they’re alone and in an apartment that’s theirs now. “And I’m glad you didn’t kill me.”
“I’m glad you’re not actually an alien,” Killian counters. “And I love you too.” She opens her mouth to respond with something, he’s sure, is equally sarcastic, but he doesn’t give her a chance, just ducks his head and kisses her and they spend the next fifteen minutes making out on his couch.
Their couch.
It makes his pulse pick up and his heart pick up and he’ll probably never stop smiling.
They don’t get that much sleep that night, but neither one of them complains.
Summary: Fear for her unborn child, a bruised and broken Emma Swan is determined to escape an abusive marriage. After she drives a long way from home to a small town in Maine, she doesn’t think her life could get more complicated… that is until she ends up falling for her OBGYN, a blue-eyed British man who’s shielded his heart from love long ago. But he may be just what she needs to begin her healing process and start a new life for her child. If only nothing gets in the way.
Notes: I’m so sorry for the delay. As most of you know I have 2 other stories going but I try to update as soon as I can. Thank you all for your patience. This chapter isn’t beta’d so I apologize for the errors. Also, in order to make this charter work and move at a steady pace, I had to alternate between Emma’s and Killian’s POV. Hope you enjoy!
I owe a huge thanks to @rouhn for her suggestions and constant support. Thanks sweetheart!
*TRIGGER WARNING* Mentions and depictions of physical and verbal abuse/domestic violence
“That’s a relief. I’m so glad to hear that Emma’s alright,” Liam admitted through the phone with a deep sigh. “Cordelia and I can’t take our eyes off the three of you in that photo you sent me. The little lad is adorable and looks just like his mum,” he said with a soft chuckle. “And we can tell you and Emma are so happy together even after everything the lass has been through. She’s a tough one and I have a lot of respect for her. I think you made the right choice. I think you both deserve to be together.”
Killian scoffed playfully, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “You mean you’re not going to tell me you told me so?”
“No, I imagine you’ve suffered enough so I won’t boast my success and rub it in your face.”
“Well, this is a first,” Killian teased with a laugh.
“Seriously though, I’m genuinely happy for my brother.”
“Thank you, Liam. I appreciate that.”
“No problem.”
“Okay, I have to go now and get back to Emma and the baby. I’ll see you soon.”
“Aye, we’ll be seeing you soon.”
Killian ended the call and pulled up the photo that he had sent Liam as he made his way through the halls of the hospital. Before his phone call with Liam, he’d changed out of his scrubs and took a quick shower. The first time he tried to call Liam was after the Nolans arrived at Emma’s room and he’d left to send his brother the photo before dialing his number, but Liam didn’t answer. So, when Killian told Emma he would get her some food, he took the opportunity to change out of his scrubs that he’d worn all night and took a much needed shower before making another attempt to reach his brother.
Killian admired the picture with a smile, seeing how happy the three of them were. They really did make quite the cute little family, as Ruby put it.
Slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans, Killian had his backpack strapped to his shoulder as he walked out into the parking garage. David had informed him of the car’s whereabouts but Killian had to search a bit before spotting it on the third level. He still had a smile on his face from his conversation with Liam and from the fact that Killian would soon be able to take Emma and the wee lad home. She had progressed nicely after returning from the OR, although she was still be in pain but his love was a tough lass like Liam had mentioned.
Killian pulled out his key, pressing the button on the car remote to open the trunk. He went around the vehicle and lifted the trunk door open, throwing his bag inside. He lifted his hand to shut it, but before he could, he fell a hard, painful blunt to the back of his head and he fell forward as everything went black.
~~~
The hospital room was dark. Emma could hear the thunder rolling outside, the lightening crashing and the rain pounding against the window. It had been several hours since Killian had been gone and she had been drifting in and out throughout the night, too sick with worry to sleep. David had went to look for the car in the parking lot where he’d left it, but it was gone. The Nolan couple even checked his place to see if he went home, but Killian was nowhere to be found. Emma refused to believe that Killian abandoned her but the longer he was away the more she felt doubts bubbling up inside, plaguing and taunting her.
Ian was in his crib as Emma heard his soft cries. Her heart ached and she started to get up so she could hold and comfort her son. When Emma moved her hands, confusion fell over her features and she started to panic as she tugged at the cuffs around her wrists that kept her bound to the bed. “What the hell?” Her body jerked and twisted as she continued yanking at the rubber cuffs around her wrists. ”Someone help me. I’m tied to the bed! My baby needs me!” she yelled out.
Then the door opened and she sighed in relief and glanced in the direction of the person emerging from the dimly lit hallway. “Thank goodness… why are my hands tied? I need to hold my baby.” The room was pitch black but some of the light spilled into the darkness and she could make out the face of the person entering.
Her eyes blew wide in fear. “No…” she uttered, struggling against the cuffs again, crying out louder. “Somebody help me! My baby’s in danger!”
“Shhh shhh shhh. Everything will be alright babe.” His tone was dark and menacing as he approached her bed. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll make everything better.”
Emma’s body was stiff, ice running through her veins as Neal lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. She got chills, goosebumps crawling all over hier skin as he touched her. “Please don't…” she managed, her words strangled and broken through her tears. “Don’t hurt my son.”
Neal’s face lit up with a crooked smile. “Oh, I have no intention of hurting our son…” He grabbed the pillow from underneath her head and pulled it out, causing the back of her head to drop back into the bed. She didn’t even know how he was there; how he broke out of jail and snuck back into the hospital.
Neal leaned in, his breath hovering over her ear and she shivered as he spoke in a deep whisper. “…only you.” Emma started sobbing and screaming out as Neal lifted the pillow and pressed it into her face. She fought against it as best as she could as she heard her baby’s cries becoming louder.
Emma tried to yell out, her pleas muffled through the pillow as his grip became more firm, the air escaping her lungs. She tried to gasp for air but all oxygen was closed off as he held the pillow, forcing it tighter and tighter around her face. She didn’t give up, her body squirming and fighting for dear life until she could no longer hold on and her body stopped moving, the oxygen in her lungs completely gone.
Emma sat up suddenly, gasping for air, her hands gripping onto the sheets. Her face was as pale as a ghost, beads of sweat forming at her forehead as she searched around the room. She was still panting, feeling the need to catch her breath, even though she had only been sleeping.
It was just a nightmare. But it felt so real.
Emma looked over into the crib where her baby had fallen asleep the last time she remembered.
Her eyes went wide and as much as she had no strength within her, she managed to get out of the bed. She anxiously reached into the crib, frantically moving the blankets around but to her complete and utter horror, her newborn baby was not there.
“Ian?!” She called out her son’s name, fear rippling through her blood. “Ian!” She started sobbing as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Emma? What’s wrong?”
Emma was wiping away her tears when she turned around to see Mary Margaret entering the room.
“Emma?!” Her friend’s face was awash with concern as she approached.
“My baby… do you know what happened to him? Did the nurse take him?” Emma asked, her tone strangled and high-pitched.
“I don’t think so. He was just in a few minutes ago when I left to get some coffee.”
“Could you please check? Can you ask them what happened to my baby?” Emma was trying to keep herself together but it was very difficult.
“Yes, of course, Emma.” Mary Margaret left the room to find to find a nurse. She came back a moment later, her face as pale as a sheet. “The baby’s supposed to be with you.”
~~~
Killian slowly opened his eyes, but everything was still pitch black. He didn’t know where he was or how much time had passed. The room was dark, he couldn’t see anything at first. His head was throbbing, he felt like he’d been hit by a brick, his neck could barely hold his head up. He tried to move his hands but both of them were bound by rope. He pulled at the restraints on his wrists and let out a groan. He didn’t know who captured him but he had a feeling he knew who was behind this.
When his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, he realized he was surrounded by cement walls of what he assumed was a basement. There were old shelves with cobwebs and a staircase on the other side of the room that led to a door. He tried to move again but as he did, he heard the faint sounds of crying. His ears perked up and he listened intently. The wails became closer and they were definitely those of a baby.
“Emma…” he whispered, hoping she wasn’t in danger, hoping the baby wasn’t in danger.
The door opened and a man appeared but Killian couldn’t discern who he was. He was a medium build, wearing a mask and carrying a bassinet. And Emma’s son was crying his tiny little heart out from inside of it. Killian summoned all of the energy within him and stood, his body jerking and struggling against the ropes tied around his wrists. “Don’t you dare hurt him! I will kill you!”
The man was silent as he laid the bassinet down on the floor. Killian continued to scream after the man as he proceeded up the stairs. “What have you done with Emma?! Answer me goddamn it!” The man continued to the door and disappeared behind it.
Killian’s eyes fell to the infant in the bassinet, seeing that in fact it was Emma’s son.
“Bloody hell…” he murmured, his heart tearing apart in his chest. Did Emma know he was missing. Was she okay? Was she hurt?” A million questions raced through his mind, thinking of all of the worst-case scenarios. Emma must be worried to death. It broke Killian’s heart to know that she was beside herself, scared and afraid that something had happened to the little lad.
Killian started wriggling one of his hands against the rope, realizing it wasn’t as tight as he thought it was. The baby’s wails grew louder, encouraging Killian even more to free his hands, but to his surprise it wasn’t that difficult. He pulled out one hand and then loosened the other, letting the ropes fall against the wall. He quickly went over to the infant and carefully picked him up from the bassinet.
“Hey… it’s okay little lad..” Killian whispered softly to the baby in his arms. “Killian’s here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He placed a delicate kiss to his forehead and cradled him in his arms with gentle sways to calm him. He didn’t know why Neal or one of his goons would kidnap Emma’s son and then bring him to Killian and not even bother to secure the ropes very tightly.
He cautiously walked up the stairs, and tried to open the door, but it was locked from the outside. He wondered if he could bust down the door, it looked really old and frail, but he had a feeling this was some sort of trap. Why would his captor make it so easy for him to escape and why would he kidnap a baby and put him right in front of Killian and let him leave with the baby?
He swallowed thickly. People would find out Killian was missing and nowhere to found when they realize the baby had been kidnapped from the hospital. This was a setup. Killian didn’t know Neal very well but anyone who was capable of hitting his wife was capable of anything. The fucking bastard’s plan was obvious. Neal was trying make it look like Killian kidnapped Emma’s son.
~~~
“Don’t worry, Emma. We’re going to find them.”
If Emma could curl herself up into ball right now she would. Instead she was laying in the hospital bed on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her cheeks were covered in tears, her eyes wet and swollen.
Both her boyfriend and her son were missing.
No one saw anyone come into the room early that morning, but one of the nurses mentioned that there were only a few visitors in the hospital who had stayed overnight, including Mary Margaret.
The worst part about this, other than the fact that Killian and Ian were missing, was that Neal was in jail, so Emma wouldn’t be able to point fingers at him, even if she knew this was all his doing. Him and Gold. She was beginning to think Neal had set himself up to go to jail so he couldn’t be blamed.
“Emma…” David called out, sounding out of breath. “We came as quickly as we could.”
Emma tore her gaze from the ceiling to see James rushing into the room behind David. “Make him go away,” she said quietly, looking away again.
“Emma, James didn’t have anything to do with this. He was with me the whole time,” David assured her.
“But what about giving away my whereabouts?” she cried out. Emma started to get up and Mary Margaret took her hand to help her sit up on the bed.
James approached her with genuine concern in his features. “Em, I know you think that I was responsible for Neal finding you, but regardless, I’m going to help David find your baby and Killian.”
She eyed the Nolan brothers in surprise and shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”
James flashed her a small smirk. “See, you know that I had nothing to do with any of this.”
“No, I don’t know that… but I still care about you, you asshole!” She started sobbing again and Mary Margaret wrapped Emma up in her arms, rocking her softly.
Kneeling in front of her, James took her hand in both of his. “Em… you can hate my guts all you want, but I’m still going to find your son. And we’re not going to come back until he’s in David’s arms, you hear me?”
Tears were spilling down her cheek as she managed a nod. “Please find my baby.”
“You got it.” He stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
“Just be careful,” Mary Margaret told them, standing up and drawing David into a hug.
“We will, I promise.” He sealed his reassurance with a sweet kiss to her lips before he and James left the room.
Mary Margaret stayed with Emma as she laid back down in the bed, telling the brunette that she didn’t want anyone in her room unless it was Killian or David and James with her baby. Until then, she waited, her whole body completely numb and consumed with worry.
~~~
Killian had managed to settle the little lad down, cradling him in his arms when he could hear movement from upstairs. He heard the door slam shut and he could make out a couple of male voices. He quickly held Emma’s son protectively against his chest. He knew he should’ve put him back in the bassinette and secured his hands with the ropes in case it were the Sheriff and Deputy but he’d rather go to jail for kidnapping than let anything happen to Emma’s son.
“Killian!”
He felt a swarm of relief when he heard his name being called. “Down in the basement!” Killian yelled back.
The door flew open and James and David came running down the stairs.
“Thank god,” They both expelled heavy breaths when they saw that the baby was safely in Killian’s arms. “We didn’t think the baby was here when we saw that the house was empty and I really didn’t want to go back to Emma empty handed,” David said, his eyes circling around the room. “Do you know how you got down here?” he asked Killian.
“I was hit in the back of the head when I went to my car. When I woke up, I was here. I only saw someone when they brought him down here,” Killian explained, referring to Emma’s son as he stroked the baby’s cheek.
“Why would Neal and Gold kidnap the baby and keep him in the basement with you?” David asked in confusion.
James walked over to the ropes, picking them up and observing them. “My guess is they set Killian up to make to it look like he did it. I mean Neal’s in jail, so he won’t be suspected.”
Killian lifted a brow in shock. “He is?”
He should’ve been happy, but jail time was far too clement of a punishment for Neal. Even death wouldn’t be cruel enough for the evil bastard.
“Come on. Let’s just get out of here before anyone shows up, so Emma can know her son is safe. I’ll tell you about it in the car.”
They went upstairs, looking around to see that the house was mostly empty. The rooms were sparse with only a few pieces of furniture and it looked like it had been abandoned. It didn’t look like place someone like Neal used to hide out in for weeks.
The three of them walked out onto the porch and started heading towards David’s truck before Killian stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“Killian? What is it?” James asked as he and David turned around, eying Killian with inquiring looks.
“I have to check something.” The lad was stirring in Killian’s arms as he cautiously walked over to the garage and entered through the side door. The last thing he remembered before he’d been knocked out, was opening the trunk of his car. If his captor was actually planning a fake kidnapping, he would’ve made sure Killian’s vehicle was at the scene. To his suspicion, his car was right there sitting in the garage all by itself. Killian started to become angry.
Those bloody bastards were going to pay.
~~~
“Emma, we just received a call from someone who says they know the whereabouts of your son.”
Emma sat up as quickly as she could, her eyes wide with hope. Her son had only been missing for a couple of hours, but they were the worst hours of her life. “Where? Is he okay?”
August told her that they had an address and one of the neighbors reported hearing a crying baby at an abandoned farmhouse.
As he and Graham left, Emma knew that David and James had already succeeded in their search. She knew it was the same house that James and Killian had come across when they had followed Gold there. Emma was confident that they would be back at any moment.
Sure enough, the door opened a few moments later and Killian emerged, holding Ian in his arms, the Nolan brothers following behind him. Emma had never been more relieved in her life. “My babies!”
She stood up and threw her arms around both of them. “Oh my God, I was so worried,” Emma murmured, kissing her son’s forehead and then Killian’s lips. “I love you both so much…” Emma scooped up Ian in her arms, tears stinging her eyes as Killian wrapped both of them up in his embrace.
He explained what happened and how he was knocked out and taken to the farmhouse. Between Killian and the Nolan brothers, they were able to fill her in on everything.
Emma was absolutely appalled. Not that she would ever press charges against Killian, but the fact that Neal and Gold set this whole thing up to get Killian in trouble infuriated her.
“I’m so sorry that he was taken away from you, love, and that I couldn’t be here.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re both here now and you’re safe.” Emma felt warm and secure in Killian’s arms as she held her baby close, dropping gentle kisses to his delicate head.
“I’m also sorry that we followed Gold without telling you. It was my idea to find Neal in the first place. James was just happy to help.”
Emma looked up at him in surprise.
“James told me everything in the car. He told me that Neal showed up and tried to take you and the baby away. He also told me that he accused James of selling you out.”
Emma looked over at James as he held a pained expression. “Do you think he really did it?” Emma asked her boyfriend.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, love. You’re the one with the superpower.”
Emma sighed as Killian loosened his arms and released her from his hold. She looked James in the eye, scrutinizing his facial features. “I want to. I mean you helped find Killian and my son and if you hadn’t found out about the farmhouse, the deputy and Sheriff would have found them first and it would’ve looked like he kidnapped my baby. So I suppose I should thank you,” Emma murmured, flashing him a weak smile.
“It’s no problem, Emma. I didn’t do it for your forgiveness, I did it for you and your son.”
“What about me?” Killian teased in mock offense. “I was hit over the bloody head and thrown in my own trunk.”
James chuckled. “You’re right, I was hoping to find you as well. We do make a good team,” he said with a wink and then reverted his gaze to Emma. “So does this mean you believe me?”
“If you say you didn’t do it, then I believe you.” She transferred her baby to Killian’s arms and went over to James, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, tightening his hold as she sighed against him. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I just… I was upset that you kept things from me and I was still in shock from Neal showing up.”
“It’s okay,” James assured her.
Emma pulled away from him, continuing to explain. “Plus, when you kissed me I was taken off guard and then I thought maybe it was a kiss of betrayal or an apology kiss or-”
“Hold on a bloody minute… you kissed my Swan?” Killian asked angrily. Emma turned around to see him gritting his teeth.
James held his hands up in defense. “Killian, it was just a quick peck on the lips. I was just glad that she was okay after giving us all a scare. That’s all it was. I care for Emma, too.”
Emma could see the tick in Killian’s jaw and she was certain that if Killian weren’t holding the baby, he’d be balling up his fists, ready to punch James in the face. “Killian, it’s okay. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Relax mate, I’m not trying to steal Emma. I have my own girlfriend, remember?” James sighed, offended. “Emma, I’m glad the little duckling’s alright, but between yesterday and today, I think I’ve had enough accusations thrown at me. I think I’m going to say goodbye to Rose and take off.”
“James, I’m sorry,” Emma murmured.
“We’re going to take off too,” Mary Margaret told her. “Do you need anything before we go?”
“No, but thank you so much for everything.”
“It’s not a problem,” David assured as Emma engaged them both into a warm hug. “We’re just glad the baby’s alright.”
“Me too.”
After the Nolan’s left the room, Emma put her arms around both of her boys and she peered up to see Killian looking at her, his eyes full of apology. “I’m sorry I overreacted, love. It’s been a rough couple of days,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the the forehead.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay,” she murmured, lifting her hand to caress his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetness. Both of you.”
Emma captured his lips, pulling him in for a soft kiss. She didn’t know what she would have done if she lost either one of them. They breathed each other in as though they needed each other for air, indulging in each other’s warm embrace as they held Ian securely between them. Slowly breaking the kiss, Emma gently pressed her forehead against Killian’s, her voice broken and wrecked. “I was so worried about both of you,” she whispered, lifting her hand to stroke her son’s hair. They still had Gold and Neal to worry about, but knowing that she had both of her boys in her arms was enough to keep her positive and hopeful.
~~~
Before Emma was discharged from the hospital, Dr. Tink dropped by to check on her, delivering the “nothing in the vagina for six weeks” spiel. Emma had to admit that although she loved Killian and there was no denying that he was a very attractive man and she was insanely addicted to him, sex was the last thing on her mind right now, considering all of the circumstances. After pushing a human being out of her vagina, the idea of having sex at all seemed very daunting.
Emma was dressed and wearing her jacket, holding Ian who was sound asleep in her arms as Killian pushed her out of the hospital in a wheelchair. The little lad was wearing a blue onesie and cap on his head, wrapped up in a blanket that Cordelia had knitted for him. The winter air was bitterly cold and the sidewalks were slick, soft snowflakes falling and gently covering the ground. There was a heavy snowstorm forecasted for Storybrooke, in fact Liam had called Killian to tell him the flights were delayed and he wouldn’t be home until the next day, depending on when the weather cleared up.
Killian put the breaks on the wheelchair and scooped Ian up in his arms, securing him in his car seat. He helped Emma into the car and drove as safely as possible to get them home.
~~~
That night, the three of them laid in bed, the newborn laying on Emma’s chest as Killian held them in his arms. Finally, they were home and were able to snuggle in the comfort of their own bed. Killian couldn’t possibly think of another moment that he’d been happier than in that moment. He had his love in his arms and her son, who seemed to also be as happy as a clam. His mum had just fed him and he had a great big smile on his face as he looked over at Killian with his big blue eyes. Killian chuckled, taking the wee lad’s tiny hand in his and pressing a few gentle kisses to his fingers. “Such a happy little lad and such a trooper. He’s not even a week old and he’s been through a lot already.”
“He sure is a brave one. Hopefully he won’t have to go through anything like that again,” Emma said and at the same time, she looked very thoughtful.
“You alright, love?”
She nodded, offering a soft smile. “Yeah, I just… I picked out a name for the little guy.”
Killian arched a brow, intrigued. “Let’s hear it, love.”
Emma’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she looked up at Killian. “I wanted to name him after someone who means a lot to me. Someone who’s made a difference in my life. Who will make a difference in our life,” she explained, peering down at her son and dropping a kiss to his head. Her eyes darted back to Killian’s as her infectious smile only widened. “I named him Ian. After you. Ian Swan.”
Killian’s heart exploded in his chest, a broad grin taking over his lips. He was completely touched that Emma named her son after him. “You named him Ian?” he asked, still in shock.
She laughed. “Yes. You will be a father figure to him. And he deserves to be named after an amazing man in my life. Who better than you?”
“Emma…” he breathed out. He still couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe she name her bundle of joy after him, he couldn’t believe she referred to him as his father figure. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Emma’s eyes flickered to his and he lost a breath. Leaning in gently, he pressed his lips to hers and tightened his hold around Emma and Ian, his heart fluttering and his skin on fire as he drew her into a toe-curling kiss. It was hard to believe that a year ago he was lonely and miserable and consumed in his work. He’d been good at masking his pain, but now… now there was no pain left to mask. And if he had any control over it, the same would be true for Emma and Ian. He would do anything to take away all of their pain and he’d do it a million times over again.
What I’ll start off by saying is this: “Last Rites” should have been the finale. While there were things I liked about the actual finale, it essentially felt more like a filler episode and more like a beginning to season 6 than an end to season 5. When you are telling a story, or more specifically when you are ending a story a general part of wrapping things up is doing so in a way that is somehow reflective on how it all began, especially on television. “Last Rites” would have been perfect for doing just this. In the beginning of season 5A we started off with Emma being the dark one and her love Killian (and the rest of her family), trying to get it out of her. 5B started with Emma going to help her Love leave the Underworld after he sacrificed himself. In Last Rites not only do we see these two couples reunite (thus reflecting on the darker image of how it began this season) but we also get a conclusion to the Underworld arc of 5B. Last rites is everything a finale should be. But the actual finale felt so separated from the rest of the story that we have spent months watching.
I also found it a little weird that there was such little talk about the actual Underworld and Killian’s return. Here we have a man who literally was engulfed with darkness, had to fight against it, only to be killed for the third time and sent to the Underworld where he was tortured physically. Only to follow this up with finding out he is confirmed TL with Emma, yet he cannot leave and has to instead move on, all the while working with the man who killed him. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved the bits with Arthur, I think that whole bro mission furthered Killian’s redemption arc, (which I already thought was at it’s peak), but god damn that episode made Killian Jones a true hero.
Regardless, he went through all of that, finally reuniting with his love, despite both of them thinking he was dead for good, just to have the next episode blow over it like it was no big deal. I get when fuckery is going on, everyone goes into full mission mode, but I found it completely weird to not even have a single person ask him how he was, or bring up the Underworld in something more than a passing one liner. When you spend a whole season devoted to the dark ones and the Underworld you should have more than a one liner about it in the wrap up. There needed to be some conversation and there wasn’t.
So to sum all that ^^^ up, my two initial issues were this episode just didn’t seem to fit for me with the rest of the story, and seemed something more like an afterthought than a finale, and secondly I find it really weird to not touch on everything this season was essentially about. It felt sooo separated from the rest of season 5′s story.
On a positive note I did want to say that I enjoyed the message of the overal finale, which was to remind the viewers of the core elements here: hope and belief. So while I admittedly was cringing with second hand embarrassment during Henry’s speech. I enjoyed it for what it was, a reminder about what the writers intended this show to be about. And it did a good job of showing me that. Let’s just hope that they actually pull through with that promise (it felt a bit like a promise) next season and give us more happy than angst. More hope than despair. And more belief that disbelief in where these stories are going.
As far as general commentary about the beginning of the show goes, I really appreciated a few tiny elements. First off, I loved the CS hand holding. It’s probably one of my favorite things this show does with these two characters, is focusing so much on their hands and little gestures.
I also really liked that they made Killian say that one liner about Regina’s redemption and how she has changed. I might be a bit iffy on that topic of conversation, but it was nice to see them have HOOK say it. First I enjoyed it on a super superficial level. Which is that so many anti’s (usually Evil Regals and SQ people) are looking for a reason to hate this guy, and here he is saying what they themselves have been saying. That she has changed. I just was so happy to see Killian be the spokesperson for Evil Regals for a second, because i get pure joy in knowing that they have to like something Killian said. But from a writing standpoint I liked this because I think it’s important if you are trying to build a friendship between Emma and Regina, than there needs to be SOMETHING between Regina and the person Emma loves (Killian). Regina and Killian’s relationship is so underdeveloped, and I think this was the start of something new, at least on his part. Que highschool musical singing.
Also Sneak Peeks. Let’s just say i’m never investing stock in them again. Out of context, they are so much worse then in it. I was reminded of that with the diner scene, which was not anywhere near as awful as I thought it would be.
Also that bro hug man. I had a proper fit ATM. My mom was like I gave birth to a weirdo and all I could say was TRUUUU, because I was quite literally freaking out. I like that they purposefully paid attention to it, and I also remember thinking right after, PLEASE DON’T LET THIS BE THE LAST CAPTAIN CHARMING MOMENT. And to my pleasant surprise, it wasn’t. I really enjoyed the scene where Killian was being choked (I feel bad, because can we give the dude a break lol) but I LOVED that Charming was like NOT MY BRO, and jumped into full friend future father in law mode to protect him. Like my heart still beats loud for that scene. I mean I love me some romance obviously but I LOVE ME SOME BROMANCE.
My only issue with the Snowing, Zelena, Killian journey was that once again it lacked a decent amount of dialouge. It felt a lot like quick one liners, or conversation directed towards the new character (btw Hyde or should I say Vampire Darcy is weirdly attractive, like yasss please.) It felt like a lot of dialogue towards the new faces instead of in-between the main characters on screen.
REGINA AND EMMA JOURNEY:
OKAY, where do I begin. I guess first i’ll say a few sideline things. I lol’d when Granny texted Emma. I also was like WTF, if you have magic in the city, why do we not poof places. Also I appreciated that Regina’s sass was geared less towards insulting people this episode and more towards actual simple quippy one liners. Sometimes I think the writers verge on abusive language with her and surpass the liner of sass. It’s a fine line, and this episode did well of not crossing it.
I guess what I want to say is this, I’m not a fan of Regina and Emma’s friendship. It’s just not there for me. I feel like there scenes always feel a bit lack in the chemistry side. I generally feel like i’m watching two separate actors acting instead of two people acting together. But that’s just me. Writing wise, I don’t like their friendship because I find it unhealthy and can’t get behind something I myself would not want to be in. To me, most of their conversations seem to center on playing some kid of blame game, or are centered around the expense of one another. I don’t see anything that actually seems like a friendship. I don’t see anything that actually looks like bonding or an actual friendship. With Elsa from Frozen for example, I saw two strong woman supporting each other, helping each other over come struggles, being positive in their words towards one another. I just don’t see that here. Like I said, a lot of their conversation is usually at the expense of one another. Or it’s someone walking on egg shells. Or it’s someone being incredibly brash. It’s just not something I currently support, but it’s something I WANT TO SUPPORT and thats what makes not believing in it so entirely...sucky. Like It’s obvious the writers want us to believe these two woman are friends, but in order for me to get behind that I’m going to need to see some explicitly friendly conversation and material. Some actual support and positivity. Until then, I’m waiting.
Another thing i wanted to talk about was how Emma’s feelings kept being invalidated. We saw that in the previous episode before the finale when she was grieving and we saw it here. I didn't appreciate that Emma said that same words (nearly) that Regina said to her, but Emma’s were blown so much more out of proportion than needed. Emma’s feeling were valid when she was grieving, and they were valid here. It makes complete and logical sense to be afraid of the EQ returning. I mean if I was sitting there, in front of the woman who was responsible for murdering towns of people, almost killing my parents, and separating them from me for 28 years all because she lost a love one, I would most def. be afraid of that happening again. Especially if she’s literally sitting in front of me now, talking about how she doesn’t really like doing good, and feels a constant battle inside of her because of it. Emma’s feelings were completely valid in my opinion and it was hard as a supporter of her and those feelings to not only watch Regina react the way she did, but for her son to be used as a tool by the show to react in the same way.
Look I def. think Regina deserves to grieve and be sad and even jealous. But there’s a difference between having those feelings and sharing them in a way that’s vindictive and potentially harm inducing. There's a huge difference between saying yes I'm upset and I'm mad that Hook is back because it's not fair AND saying I'm upset and wanted to rip out his throat. That one-liner alone is enough validation in my mind from Emma’s feelings and her fears.
Okay now the main thing i wanted to talk about is this. I used to love Regina. I really did, but when I realized the writers would not be giving her the same kind of redemption arc they gave Hook (Who not only acknowledged his wrongs and changed because of them but also addressed the people he wronged head on) I began to dislike her character more and more. But when I was watching this episode, and I was hearing her speech about how she knows the terrible things she has done and she feels remorse over them, I was actually cheering. I was actually rooting for Regina again. It felt nice, to for a moment like all the characters on the show and where things seemed to be headed. But than, A&E as they always do, took a great moment and back peddled like hell. Like not more than 20 minutes later we have the same character who just took a huge step in owning up to all her mistakes all of a sudden treating and referring to the EQ as if she is a separate identity or entity. When she’s not. They are the same person (hence why the EQ didn’t die). I just feel like that whole choice to rip the EQ out and attempt to kill her rendered that entire beautiful monologue and redemption step entirely pointless and useless. I get why they did it. Logically they did it because they want to drag it out for a whole season, and use the EQ to address Regina’s redemption even more (even though they didn’t need to and could have just let the monologue be the first step and her addressing people head on next season being the step after) and maybe parallel some stuff from season 1. But it’s just such a tiring subject. I was really hoping for something fresh.
Honestly, I’m tired of talking about Regina, so I’m just gonna’ move onto the CS kiss.
On the visceral level I was disappointed. After all that angst. I needed something more. I get that the characters are working off a different pace and timeline than we are, but much like how an end is supposed to balance out a beginning, or reflect on it. Angst is supposed to be properly balanced out for the audience with decent pay off. And it just wasn’t. The worst part about it, is that they could have added anything in there. A one liner about their home. A one liner about spending their lives together (not need a proposal for that) to make it matter just a little bit more to be the pay off we were all waiting for. It’s hard for a lot of CS shippers watching this show because they went from watching 4x22 a year ago and seeing the big long awaited I love you. To being here a year later, hearing it again. When you think about the audiences wait and the time spent between those two things, it lessens the 5x23 moment completely.
HOWEVER I know it meant something. I know it was important. I know it made sense. And this is what i’m holding on to. The fact of the matter is Emma has always said I love you because something dire was going on. Some big bad was always happening. Killian even says this to her in 5x20 before TL’s quest, when he asks why she can only admit how she’s feeling only when one of them is facing certain death. This moment was meant to reflect back on that, and show that she doesn’t need something pushing her to say it. That she simply loves him, without any force making her feel that way. And that’s beautiful.
This moment was also meant to parallel the moment from 4x22 on the bed. Where Emma, even in the silent moment they were sharing, still could not say it. YET HERE in 5x23 we hear the same music, feel the same vibe, see the same quiet moment, with almost eerily similar dialogue and facial expressions, BUT NOW Emma does say it. And that’s a huge change for her. Because while the audience might be thinking duh, as seen by Hooks comments in the Underworld, there just might have been some uncertainty towards whether or not Emma would ever be able to break the last wall down enough to say it just because she wants to. He knew she loved him, but here we have her finally announcing it, with no pushing force. And it’s wonderful.
Also holla at that wedding dress. I don’t care what none of yall say, that was foreshadowing without even trying to be coy. My own mother pointed it out. And with the EQ coming back all i can think of is WEDDING INTERUPTIONS.
