Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.
A/N: Here it is! The final installment! I can't believe it is finally finished! Thank you all for coming on the journey with me, and thank you for all the patience between some of the longer updates. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this haunting tale.
Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills! Also a HUGE thank you to @snowbellewells who made the cover art for my birthday last year. Thank you again, Marta! I absolutely love it!
Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six
Part Seven
As it had been arranged the first time, candles circled the foursome as they sat with their hands clasped together, ready to call upon the spirit world. It had only taken about fifteen minutes for Killian to get things set up, but it was another ten before they were able to convince Regina to go into the cellar. Knowing that was where Daniel’s body had been discovered, buried behind a wall for decades, was almost too much for her to face. Eventually, with Robin’s support and Emma’s reassurances, they managed to get her down the steps and seated on the floor in front of the ouija board.
In an effort to bar Cora from interfering until Liam and Belle could properly force her to cross over, Killian had set up a ward against the malevolent spectre, using one of the photos from Belle’s file and special sigil marked in chalk, outlining the candles. So long as they kept the chalk circle unbroken, Cora would be powerless to enter it.
“Once we place our hands on the planchette, it is important that they remain there until the session is concluded,” Killian instructed each of them before catching Regina’s gaze. “I’ll open the doorway, but once Daniel joins us you can take over.”
He could see the lingering doubt in her expression, but had faith that the rest of their energies were enough to help Daniel manifest. Checking one last time that the ward was secure, Killian wished they could have waited until Cora was no longer a threat, but worried that any delay would have allowed Regina to talk herself out of going through with this. Besides, he and Emma had agreed it was best to keep Regina in the dark about her mother’s spirit, and how they planned to deal with it.
Placing their hands on the planchette, a collective inhale could be felt as Killian began. “Daniel? We invite you to join us. Use our energies to come forward and resolve the unfinished business keeping you here.”
Silence and stagnation surrounded them with only the soft flickering of the candles’ flames piercing the dark quiet.
“Daniel?” Killian began again. “Regina is here. She knows you did not abandon her. This is your chance to say a proper good-bye.”
Still nothing. Killian began to wonder if he’d done something wrong with the ward. The circle typically ensured the warded spirit could not enter and manipulate the board or the participants. Was it possible Cora had gained enough strength to block Daniel from entering? Perhaps they needed to boost the energy within the enclosed ward.
Killian was about to give himself over as he had the last time when the violent sound of a door slamming atop the cellar stairs shattered the calm. Everyone visibly started, their bodies twisting around to look towards the steps. Footsteps echoed against each tread, a distinct clack of a heel clipping its way along the descent. It stopped when it reached the bottom and Killian gave them a word of assurance.
“Unless that’s Daniel, they can’t interfere. No harm will come to us as long as we remain--”
A biting wind shrieked through the cellar, extinguishing the candles and plunging them into darkness. Emma and Regina both screamed and the men cursed.
“Don’t move!” Killian urged, fumbling for the flashlight he’d set down beside him before the started.
“I can’t do this!” Regina cried out fearfully.
Killian heard people get to their feet as he found the flashlight, the sound of fleeing footsteps out pacing the beam of light.
“Wait!” Emma shouted, following after Regina.
“Swan! Be careful!”
Light flooded the stairs as Regina flung the door open. Killian chased after Robin and Emma as they hurried after the frightened woman, then nearly collided with them when he exited the cellar.
“Regina?” Robin called out, clearly as unnerved as the rest of them at the way she had just stopped and was now standing calmly with her back to them. “Are you… alright?”
Slowly, the dark haired woman turned to face them, her posture and expression making the coarse hairs of Killian’s body raise in alarm.
“Regina?”
“I don’t think--”
“You will refer to my daughter as Miss Mills,” the woman instructed sternly, her eyes sweeping over Robin and her nose scrunching as though doing so were causing a foul odor to fill her sinuses. “Who do you think you are to behave so informally with her?”
“Cora,” Emma stated, shooting a wary, wide-eyed look Killian’s way.
“Cora?” Robin repeated in shock. “You mean, Regina’s mother? That Cora?”
“Aye,” Killian affirmed, cautiously making his way forward and focusing on the possessing spirit whilst positioning himself in front of Emma. “Taking control of Neal was one thing, but robbing your daughter of her agency? What sort of mother are you?”
A spurious smile stretched across Regina's painted lips. “I’ve already told you, your pretty looks will not buy my time. Do you really think I will lower myself to engage in your baiting?”
“What do you want, then?” Emma asked over his shoulder. “Why take possession of Regina?”
The woman’s cold eyes flicked to Swan’s and she stared her down with a malignant gaze. “Why, to stop you, of course.”
“Stop what? Her learning the truth? She already knows Daniel didn’t take your money and leave on his own.”
“No, no, silly girl.” Like a serpent, she slithered forward a few steps, stopping shy of the threesome’s personal space. Snapping her gaze back to Killian, she declared, “To stop you from desecrating my corpse.”
Out of the corner of his eye Killian saw both Robin and Emma balk.
“I beg your pardon?” Robin exclaimed. “Desecrate her… What is she talking about?”
Ignoring Robin’s question, Killian challenged the woman. “I don’t know what you--”
“Oh, yes. You do.” The words clipped off her tongue with barely subdued rage. “I am not stupid. I know what you’ve got planned. Your brother is out there right now with ill-intent, and you’re going to stop him.”
“And if I don’t?”
A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth and her eyes dropped down to the body she’d commandeered. “Then I guess I’ll be keeping my daughter close and making certain she lives out the remainder of her life as I see fit.”
“No!” Robin replied, advancing on the woman. “I won’t let you!”
“Robin, stop!”
Before the man could heed the warning (though, he likely would not have), Regina’s hands grabbed ahold of Robin’s upper arms and using his own momentum against him, she swung him into the nearby door jam, the impact knocking him to the ground.
“Don’t!” Killian ordered when Robin began to pick himself up off the floor. “It’s all right. She’s bluffing.”
“Am I?”
“Aye,” Killian replied confidently. “You and I both know you haven’t the strength to maintain this level of control indefinitely.”
“And I refuse to believe you are so heartless that you’d deprive your own daughter of the life she has left.”
Killian stiffened as Emma stepped around him to continue confronting the woman. He did not want Swan to put herself in danger, but knew they needed to buy Liam as much time as possible.
“I only want what is best for her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“What about what she wants?” Emma countered. “She loved Daniel. She might even love Robin. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“My dear,” the woman condescendingly drawled. “Love is weakness. And as for being heartless…”
A ghostly arm shot out from Regina's shoulder and disappeared into Emma’s chest.
“No!” Killian cried out, momentarily frozen in shock and fear as he watched Swan’s body contort, shoulders caving inward, her breath stuck in her throat.
When he finally managed to move, Regina’s head snapped towards him. “Not another step, lover boy, or I’ll stop her heart before you can cross the hallway.”
“Let her go.” Killian put his hands out and planted his feet firmly. Robin shifted from where he was still positioned on the floor, forcing Killian to give him a pleading look and shake of his head to stop whatever he was planning.
How could he have allowed himself to become so distracted by calculations of how much longer Liam would need as to not notice how close the malevolent woman had gotten to his Swan. “Please,” he begged. “Let her go.”
“Not until you call your brother off,” she said, tightening her grip around Emma’s heart and causing a pained whimper to fall from Swan’s lips.
“Fine,” Killian conceded, pulling his phone from his pocket. “You win.”
“No,” Emma choked out, the agony in her voice making Killian’s stomach roll and his own heart drop. “Let him finish. He and Belle have to be close to--”
“What do you think will happen to you and Regina if they vanquish me whilst I am in possession of her body and your heart?”
Emma shifted her gaze towards Killian, clearly hoping he would refute the woman’s claim. He couldn’t, though. Honestly, he had no clue what would happen, but was not about to take any chances.
Speed dialing his brother, he muttered under his breath for Liam to answer.
“Killian?” his brother’s confused voice answered.
“Liam, listen to me very carefully,” Killian began firmly with a note of urgency. “I need you and Belle to stop. Don’t do anything to Cora’s remains.” The line went silent and Killian pulled it from his ear to make sure the call was still connected. Turning the speaker feature on, he said, “Are you there, brother?”
“Nevermind that,” Killian said, curtly. “I just need you to stop what you’re doing and get back here.”
“You know I can’t do that, little brother. Cora must be dealt with.”
“Dammit, Liam. I need you to listen to me. She’s taken possession of Regina and is threatening to crush Emma’s heart if you don’t--”
“Bloody hell,” Liam muttered over the line. “How did she--”
“What difference does it make!” Sometimes his brother could be the most infuriating arse. Exasperated, Killian told Liam once more, “You can’t salt and burn the body. Not without risking Regina and Emma’s safety.”
“How do you know she won’t--”
A scuffling sound echoed over the phone, his brother’s muffled voice saying something Killian could not make out.
“Killian?” Belle’s voice anxiously rang out. “We’re headed back to the car now.”
Lights flickering from the living room doorway grabbed Killian’s attention and for a brief second he could make out the silhouette of a man attempting to manifest behind Regina.
Daniel. It had to be.
“Thank you, Belle,” Killian replied, trying to keep his expression and voice even so he did not tip Cora off. “Let me talk to Liam again.”
“I’m here, brother. I’m sorry I didn’t heed your--”
“Yeah. You can be a real dinghy sometimes, you know that?”
“Aye,” Liam replied with a timbre of surprise that he quickly suppressed. “Just like dad, I’m afraid.”
Killian let out an involuntary sigh of relief and hoped the woman, staring intently at him, would chalk it up to him being glad to have finally gotten his brother to relent.
“We’ll see you soon,” Liam said, ending the call.
Stowing his phone back into his pocket, Killian’s gaze shifted to where he could make out a ripple in the air out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the arm still buried in Emma’s chest.
“Hang in there, Swan,” he encouraged, unable to bring himself to look at her face. He did not trust himself to not do something impulsive at the sight of torment or anguish on her gentle features. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“Indeed,” Regina’s voice uttered, and though he barely knew the woman, Killian knew the false syrupy-sweet inflection sounded completely wrong coming from those lips. “It will be over soon, but not the way you think it will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robin inquired, slowly getting to his feet with his hands raised in supplication. A brief, flickering glance, first at Killian, then towards the area the ripple had occurred, alerted him to the fact that Robin was aware of the other presence as well. “You said you’d let them go if Killian stopped Liam.”
“And I will,” the woman vowed. “But not without some assurances first.”
“What assurances?”
“That you won’t simply dispose of me later.”
“How do you plan to ensure we don’t?”
“Why…” An amused breath punctuated the pause before she confessed, “By having Robin here wall you all up like I had my husband do to Daniel.”
“You must be mad if you think I would--”
“But you are mad, aren’t you?” she simpered. “Madly in love with my daughter? Willing to do whatever is necessary to protect her?”
“The only way to protect Regina is to free her from you. That much is clear to me now.” Robin straightened his posture and braced his stance, squaring off with the woman he loved even as he vowed to do everything within his power to keep her from further harm.
Scoffing, the woman rolled her eyes. “Daniel said the same thing to me once. He failed and so will you. Besides…” a grimace of pain pinched Regina’s features and for a moment the possessed woman came forward.
“Mother,” she cried out in anguish. “Please… stop.”
As quickly as she’d relented it, Cora took control once more. “I can make this agony for her, unless you do as I say.”
Killian allowed the woman to continue monologuing at Robin, keeping his attention on Emma and her safety. It was taking every ounce of restraint he could muster to remain level-headed and not let his rage or terror get the better of him. All he could do was trust that Daniel - like Robin, like himself - was doing all he could to save the woman he loved.
“Come on, mate,” he muttered under his breath. “What are you waiting for?”
“You won’t… get away with… this,” Emma strained out.
“Aye, Swan’s right,” Killian added. “Do you honestly think no one will notice we’ve disappeared and that there is a newly constructed wall where the old one was? I think that’s something even Neal would clue in on.”
“Oh, my dear boy. Didn’t you know? Neal’s gone.”
Blanching, Killian whipped his head to the side and caught Emma’s guilt-filled eye. “What? Is that true, love?”
Disgusted, Cora’s hand tightened within Emma’s chest, forcing Swan’s gaze to break away and fall back to the floor as a sob audibly caught in the back of her throat.
“Stop!” Killian demanded. “Is this really how you want your daughter to remember you? Is this truly what you want your legacy to be?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me of legacy,” the vengeful woman spat. “My legacy was secure, my memory safe with Regina until this little trollop undercovered my secret. If not for her--”
The lights around them dimmed and the atmosphere began to crackle. A flash of trepidation crossed Regina’s face, but it was quickly replaced by Cora’s smug countenance.
“We both know you lack the conviction to do what you must in order to best me.”
It took Killian a moment to realize she wasn’t speaking to any of them, that she was addressing Daniel and had obviously been aware of him this entire time.
“You are weak. You’ve always been weak.”
Stepping forward, Killian silenced her vitriolic tirade. “Don’t listen to her, Daniel! Love is stronger than any force on this earth. Do what you must to save the women we love.”
The startled expression resonating from Regina’s face made something in Killian’s mind click. He knew what Daniel needed.
“I would gladly risk my life for two things: love and revenge.” Spreading his arms out wide, he offered, “Take all that you need, Daniel.”
“Killian, no!” Emma wailed, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Don’t do this!”
The spectre faintly began to form in front of him. Daniel’s soft eyes locked on to his, waiting for confirmation which he gave with a resolved nod before bracing himself as best he could. Daniel’s ghostly arm thrust forward, the intrusion into Killian’s chest unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life. Each beat of his heart strengthened Daniel, allowing him to fully manifest.
“No. Stop!” Cora protested from Regina’s lips. “Stop or I’ll--”
Her words were cut off when Daniel grabbed Cora’s ghostly wrist with his other hand. With a firm pull he tore the spirit free from Regina, who teetered on her heels before losing consciousness and falling towards the floor.
“Regina!” Robin lunged forward and mercifully caught her, lowering her carefully to the ground.
With his hand still wrapped around Killian’s heart, Daniel tightened his grip on Cora’s wrist, her hand still precariously wrapped around Emma’s heart which made Killian’s clench without any additional pressure from Daniel.
“That doesn’t belong to you,” Daniel stated, putting a greater squeeze on the woman’s wrist until she finally let go of Emma’s heart with a pained yelp.
Thankfully, Daniel released Killian in time for him to catch Emma, cradling her in his arms as they both collapsed to the floor. Once safely out of harm’s way, he dug out his phone and dialed Liam.
“Brother?”
“Now, Liam!”
A roar filled the hallway, flames bursting out from where Cora’s ghost stood. Her shriek pierced Killian’s ears and he quickly pressed his hands over Emma’s, hoping to shield her from the horror. Burying her face into his chest, Swan’s grip tightened, balling his shirt into her fists. When the heat of the ghostly fire subsided, they both looked at one another, their chests heaving from adrenaline as they fought to catch their breaths.
“Are you all right, love?” Killian asked on an exhale, wetting his lips in a vain attempt to bring moisture back to his mouth.
“I-I think so,” she answered, breathlessly.
Her eyes dipped to his lips then flicked back up, staring at him through her lashes. They held each other’s gaze for several erratic beats of Killian’s heart before slowly moving in closer. Eyes fluttering shut, Emma’s mouth was about to meet his when a soft gasp broke the moment and stole both their attention.
“Daniel?” Regina, having regained consciousness, sat up and stared teary-eyed at the ghost of her long lost love. “Is that… Is it really you?”
Robin helped her to her feet, steadying her as she approached Daniel’s spectral form. Not wishing to be any more intrusive than they already were, Killian and Emma remained seated on the floor of the hallway. With his Swan wrapped willingly in his arms, Killian held his breath at the beauty and heartbreak of this long overdue moment.
“Regina,” Daniel whispered. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I never… I never would have left you willingly and I… I’m sorry you had to find out the truth like that. I never wanted you to find out about your mother this way.”
“Oh, Daniel,” Regina replied, tearily. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m sorry I doubted you. That I doubted our love. I should have known better. I should have never taken my mother’s word over--”
“I don’t blame you for doubting,” he said. “I don’t think either of us ever considered she’d go to the lengths she did to keep us apart.”
Though it was evident he wanted to spare her the details, Regina would not be deterred, insisting he tell her the full truth of what had happened. Cora had tried to buy him off, that much was true. She’d handed him a check; the amount wasn’t important, no amount she could ever offer would have been enough, and he had told her as much. Ripping up the check, he’d tossed the pieces at her feet before turning to head down into the cellar. The next thing he knew he was lying at the bottom of the stairs, his neck broken, and his life quickly slipping away.
“My last thoughts were of you, Regina. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I have never stopped loving you.”
“Daniel, I…” Regina’s chest shuddered from a suppressed sob, tears spilling over her lashes and streaking her mascara down her cheeks.
“I haven’t been able to move on, knowing what you must have thought. I couldn’t be at peace until you knew the truth.”
“I love you, too, Daniel,” she whispered. “I hope you can find peace now. You deserve it.”
“There’s only one thing more keeping me here,” he said. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
Reaching out as though he were cupping her cheek, Daniel leaned in, bringing his forehead close to hers. “I need you to open yourself up to love again, Regina. You deserve love. You are loved.” Pulling back, Daniel turned his face towards Robin and smiled at the man. “Isn’t she?”
“Aye,” Robin affirmed, gazingly lovingly at the woman beside him. “That she is.”
“Embrace it, Regina,” Daniel urged. “Embrace love. Embrace happiness. It isn’t too late for you to have the life I wanted for you. Promise me you’ll open your heart and love again.”
Pursing her lips together in order to keep some semblance of composure, Regina reached over and took Robin’s hand. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his, smiled, and said, “I promise.”
Robin beamed and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tight in his embrace. Allowing them a moment, and probably a bit conflicted with seeing the woman he loved with another man, Daniel made his way over to Killian and Emma and stood over them.
“Thank you, Emma,” he said. “And you, Killian. If not for the two of you and Liam and all the others who helped, this never would have been possible.”
“Don’t mention it, mate,” Killian replied, wishing he could shake the man’s hand.
“I’m so happy it all worked out,” Emma said. “I’m just so sorry your life was cut short. It’s not fair.”
Daniel shrugged. “Life is like that sometimes. Which is why it is important to not squander it; take hold of every moment and cherish it. Remember that, won’t you?”
“Aye. We will.”
A content and fulfilled look rested upon Daniel’s face and he closed his eyes. “I can go now.”
“Daniel,” Regina called out, clearly not ready to say good-bye.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ll always be with you in some way.” With one last glance at Robin, he said, “Take care of our girl.”
“I will, mate. I promise.”
A soft glow began to envelop Daniel, his eyes locked with Regina’s until it became too bright for her to hold his gaze.
“I love you, Regina,” he said, his voice faint as the glow started to dim.
“Good-bye, Daniel,” Regina replied as the light fully extinguished, taking Daniel’s spirit with it.
Regina collapsed into Robin’s arms and sobbed. Tears rolled down Emma’s face and Killian had to wipe away his own as they watched Robin rock the woman he loved in his arms. When she had finally exhausted her tears, Regina turned and apologized. Killian assisted Emma off the floor and the four of them stood there in the hallway awkwardly.
Scratching behind his ear, Killian opened his mouth, still unsure of what to say, when the front door burst open. In rushed Liam and Belle, soot covered and bedraggled.
“Is everyone all right?” Liam inquired, out of breath. “What did we miss?”
~/~
Killian laid awake on the pull-out, staring up at the ceiling as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind. Every fear and nightmare fueled terror had coursed through him the entire time Cora had held Emma’s heart in her grasp. How he’d managed to keep his wits about him with the image of her heart being stopped by that ghostly hand plaguing him from all sides of his dark imaginings, he’d never know. It had taken a Herculean effort to relinquish her from his arms after Liam and Belle had arrived and they’d all adjourned to the living room.
The next few hours had been torture for him as he sat on the other side of the room from her, still shaken by what could have happened, still not convinced she had come out of the deadly encounter unscathed. He did his best to hide it, though, giving his account of things and answering questions as they all got up to speed on what had happened. When the conversation turned to Regina sharing memories of Daniel and her time spent at the carriage house in her youth, Killian stole too many glances at his Swan to count, but enough to have gained the attention of Robin who surmised they were close to overstaying their welcome.
After bidding the couple farewell with promises to keep in touch, Liam had pulled him aside to discuss what was next for the Jones brothers, allowing Emma to quickly say goodnight and escape to her room. Killian had snapped at his brother, questioning him as to why the topic could not wait until morning, only to have his brother inform him that he would not be there in the morning.
He would be staying the night with Miss French.
Killian had almost punched the shit-eating grin off his brother’s face.
He should have punched the shit-eating grin off his brother’s face.
He also should have gone up to check on Emma after Liam and Belle had left, but decided instead to give her some space. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
It was the cowardly thing to do. He was being a coward, and he knew it. A coward, and a fool, and a complete and hopeless--
The creak of the stairs drew him from his self-depracating thoughts and he sat up. Hearing a cabinet door open and close from the kitchen, he tossed back the covers and reached for his sweat pants, pulling them on as he made his way to the door. Peering out across the corridor, he could make out Emma leaning against the counter as she sipped from a glass of water. Not wishing to startle her, he yawned loudly and let his feet fall heavy on the wood floors as he approached the kitchen.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, running a hand through his hair as though he were trying to tame his bedhead.
“Sorry if I woke you,” she said, cupping the glass in her hands, her eyes trained on its rim.
“You didn’t.” Reaching out, he took the glass from her and set it on the counter. “Out with it, love. I can tell something is bothering you.”
Whipping her head up, she looked at him askew. “How? How could you possibly know something’s--”
“I’ve told you before,” he reminded, cutting her off and enjoying how it irritated her. “You’re an open book.”
A scoff huffed from her chest and she rolled her eyes at him. “Well, if you must know…” she began, scuffing the floor with her foot as she quietly muttered, “It’s too quiet.”
“Come again?”
“It’s too quiet,” she repeated, louder and a bit exasperated. “I know it’s ridiculous that it bothers me, but the house is too quiet. Too still. I never noticed before, but I think I’d grown accustomed to having…”
“Another presence in the house?” he offered, finishing her thought for her.
“Yeah. I guess.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave a small shrug and confessed, “I kind of miss Daniel.”
“I don’t think that’s ridiculous at all,” he told her as he leaned against the counter across from her. “His energy was here for a long time. Makes sense that its absence would be felt.”
“I suppose so.” Letting out a deep exhale, she uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on the edge of the counter, next to her hips. When his gaze lifted from lingering on her exposed hip bone, he was met with a knowing smirk and a suspect look. “So, what’s got you up this late?”
It was Killian’s turn to shrug and avoid making eye contact. “Just some thoughts that won’t let me be.”
“Such as?”
Peeking up at her, he found the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him all night. “Is it true that Neal’s gone?”
Another long exhale preceded her answer. “Yes. He’s gone.”
“When? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We had it out after the whole possession thing,” she told him. “He gave me an ultimatum and I told him to get out.” She shifted her weight and pushed her hair behind her shoulder, taking a beat before admitting, “I’ve known for a long time that things needed to end with him, I just… I guess I felt too embarrassed to say anything. Besides… it wasn’t like we didn’t have enough going on.”
“True,” Killian agreed with a note of humor. “I am sorry you felt as though you couldn’t confide in me. And for what it’s worth, I…”
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the platitude. He wasn’t the least bit sorry that Neal was no longer in the picture, and they both knew it.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” she assured him. “Like I said, it was long past time.”
Killian wanted to press her for more, to ask what this might mean for them. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t conflicted about what came next, and therefore waited for her to take the lead.
“So, Liam is shacking up with Belle,” she said after a prolonged bout of silence. Seemingly testing the waters for different discussion altogether, she asked, “Does that mean you guys will be stopping into town on a regular basis?”
“Actually,” Killian replied, wading out into said waters, “Liam suggested we stick around for a while. It seems Miss French has a number of potential cases my brother thinks we should look into.”
Her teeth had been worrying her lip since she finished asking her previous question, and only relinquished their hold so she could inquire, “And what did you tell him?”
He wished she had met him halfway into the depths. “I told him I wasn’t sure.” When her face fell he quickly moved off the counter and took her hands in his. “Don’t misunderstand me, love. There’s nothing I want more than to stay here… with you.” Reaching up, he cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I just want to do this right. I don’t want to finally have my second chance and then end up being the rebound g--”
The urgent press of her lips against his cut off his words, and he’d never been so thrilled to be interrupted in all his life.
He’d only just begun to respond when she pulled away, but only far enough so she could tell him, “Neal was the rebound guy. You are the guy, Killian.”
His mouth crashed against hers and with very little prodding on his part, she climbed up to sit atop the counter. Prompting her knees to open for him, he moved into the space between her thighs and slipped a hand up her back beneath her (his) shirt. He groaned at the feel of her soft, warm skin as their lips continued to slant and slide against the others, their tongues tangled together, and their teeth teased and taunted with playful nips along jawlines and earlobes.
Coming up for air, foreheads pressed together, the two tried to catch their breath while trading soft smiles and doey-eyed looks with one another.
“You know how I said that without the ghosts the house is a little too quiet for my liking?”
“Aye,” Killian panted. “What do you suggest we do about that?”
“Well…” Emma drawled, applying a sultry timbre to her tone as she slid her arms around his neck. “I was thinking you could join me upstairs so we could make things go bump in the night.”
Killian chuckled and leaned in to kiss her again. “I thought you’d never ask.” he murmured against her lips, promising, “I’ll have you moaning louder than any spirit ever could.”
“And I’ll have you--” she said between kisses. “--thinking you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” he confessed into the pulse point below her ear, moaning at the way it made her shudder in his arms. “After this, I’ll be harder to get rid of than any haunting.”
“Good.” Emma gave him a quick shove and hopped off the counter. Grabbing his hand, she led him out of the kitchen and cheekily added over her shoulder, “That’s the kind of being ghosted I can live with.”
With a wide smile, Killian eagerly followed his Swan up to her bedroom where the two of them enthusiastically expressed their passion for one another, loud enough to wake the… well, you know.
The End
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Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.
A/N: We are getting closer to the finish line! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through my writing drought and inconsistent updates. As I mentioned in my last update, this fic is finished, so the final chapter will be posted a week from today!
Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills! Also a HUGE thank you to @snowbellewells who made the cover art for my birthday last year. Thank you again, Marta! I absolutely love it!
Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
Part Six
Orange and red bathed the headstones as the sun set over the graveyard. The three of them had waited in the park next to the cemetery, intending to enter closer to nightfall, but still within the permitted hours. Seated at a picnic table on the outskirts, they watched as a police car slowly crept down the road that ran alongside the burial site’s boundary.
“Bloody hell,” Killian cursed beneath his breath. “What is that? The third patrol in an hour?”
“Something like that,” Emma replied, before glancing at him sideways and cheekily adding, “The town stepped up their police presence here after some lunatic dug up and set fire to a body last year.”
Killian met her taunting countenance with an equally teasing sigh and feigned annoyed glower. The two could only hold their needling expression for a scant moment before smiles took over their faces.
Seemingly oblivious to the fond nostalgia being shared between his companions, Liam stood and began to make his way towards the treeline. “Lucky for us the Mills Mausoleum is on the other side of the cemetery, far from the road.”
Lucky, indeed.
Or so it had seemed.
Once they arrived at the Mill’s family resting place, their luck took a turn.
Killian had expected the mausoleum to be locked. Affluent family gravesights often were, as a way to ward off theft and vandalism. What he had not anticipated was the style and intricacy of said lock.
Crouching in front of the iron door, Killian cursed as he fiddled with the mechanism. “Bloody tumblers won’t budge. It’s as though they’re secured by magic.”
“We’ve no evidence that Cora was a witch,” Liam replied without a hint of sarcasm, his gaze scanning the area for any signs of interruption.
“I didn’t mean literally, brother,” Killian said with an eyeroll, then muttered, “Though, I wouldn’t have put it past her.”
A soft giggle pulled his attention upward to where Swan was standing over him, holding the flashlight. As it was prone to do, his body instantly reacted; his breath catching and his heart palpitating as a warm flush of desire and affection spread through him. Seeing her, bathed in moonlight amongst the headstones, transported him back to the night they met, here in this very cemetery.
What he wouldn’t give to go back and do things differently. He’d been such a fool and desperately hoped--now that everything was out in the open between them--that she’d give him a second chance. A tall order, considering she was currently romantically involved and living with another man. Even if he found said man to be lacking in a number of ways and nowhere near deserving of someone the caliber of Emma Swan.
Although, some might question whether he was any more deserving himself, given how he’d squandered his chance with her when he’d had it, regardless of how noble he thought his reasons were at the time.
“Want me to give it a try?” Emma asked, crouching down beside him. Her breath against his cheek caused a shiver to run down his spine, compromising his balance and landing him on his backside with an audible oomph.
“Shhh,” Liam hissed. “Someone’s coming.”
His brother hid behind a tall grave marker as the beam of a flashlight swept across the headstones. Grabbing Killian by the lapels of his jacket, Swan pulled him back towards the cover of the mausoleum’s shadow, the two of them tangled together as they sat pressed against the structure and one another.
The roar of his blood thundered in his ears as he held his breath, his focus torn between trying not to be discovered by who he assumed was one of the officers on patrol and the feel of Emma wrapped in his arms as she practically straddled his lap. It felt like an eternity before the coast became clear once more, but Killian made no effort to extricate himself from his current position. Leaning back to glance around the side of the mausoleum, Emma’s hips shifted over his groin and he was helpless to stop his body from responding, or the aching whimper from falling off his lips.
The startled swiftness with which she straightened back up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted told him his affliction had not gone unnoticed. The two of them held the other’s gaze for a long moment, and when her eyes dipped down to his lips, his followed suit. Their breathing shallowed, exhales mingling in the chilled air that was growing more charged by the second. His fingers gripped her hip a bit tighter, his thumb sliding under the hem of her sweater to the bare skin beneath causing her breath to hitch and her flesh to pebble from his touch. Cautiously, he inched forward, intending to close the gap and claim that perfect mouth of hers, but only if she gave him the slightest hint of consent to do so.
Consent he’d never know if he would have received, thanks to his clueless, meddlesome, infuriating brother.
“That was too close for comfort,” Liam whispered. “I think it best we take our leave and come up with a new plan.”
Emma scrambled off Killian’s lap, forcing another pained sound to escape from the back of his throat. Holding his hands out, Liam assisted them both to standing and waited for their agreement before setting off in the direction of the park.
It wasn’t until they were back in his Chevelle that Emma suggested, “Maybe the groundskeeper has a key to the mausoleum. We could ask Belle to find out. She could use the excuse of needing to update records or wanting to do research for city historical purposes.”
“Perhaps you could also ask Sheriff Humbert if he’d be willing to pull back on the patrols here, although I’m not sure what reason you’d give him,” Liam offered from the backseat, having graciously insisted that Swan ride shotgun, which Killian knew had been his brother’s way of torturing him. The git.
Emma smirked and stated, “If I have Ruby ask him he won’t need a reason.”
Liam chuckled. “Aye. The lass does seem to have your sheriff wrapped around her finger.”
“Among other parts of herself, I dare say,” Killian quipped, earning him a chortle from Swan and a slap at the back of his head from his brother. “Oi! Bad form to assault the driver whilst the vehicle is in motion!”
“Bad form to make such remarks about our host’s friend.”
“I assure you, I was only stating what Emma was already thinking. Isn’t that right, Swan?”
Glancing towards the passenger seat, Killian was met with a cheeky expression and mischievous glint sparkling from those enticing, green depths he often found himself lost in.
“Actually, I was gonna suggest that Liam talk with Belle about getting us access to the mausoleum, seeing as he wouldn’t mind being wrapped around more than just her finger.”
Killian erupted into laughter and peered at his brother through the rearview mirror. Even in the dim light of passing cars and streetlights he could see his brother’s face turn bright red. Fortunately, it was accompanied by a caught out smile and good-natured chuckle.
“Lass, I fear my brother has been a bad influence on you.”
“No more than I am over him,” she quipped back haughtily, furtively shooting Killian a look that made his pants tighten impossibly more.
He wasn’t sure how he’d ever manage to get out of the car, much less make it up the stairs to the front door. Coming up with some excuse to hang back, Killian remained behind the wheel as Emma and Liam both exited the car.
“I’ll see you both in the morning, then,” Swan replied, heading up the front steps, her tight jeans hugging her arse in a way that solidified the reality that Killian was in for a long, uncomfortable night.
“Everything alright, brother?” Liam asked with a little too much concern in his tone. “Finding it hard to put the day behind you?”
“Piss off,” Killian grummaced, throwing open the car door and stepping out into the cool night air.
“You’re both idiots, you know that right?”
Sighing, Killian conceded, “I’ll admit to you being half right. I’ve only myself to blame.”
Placing a firm hand on Killian’s shoulder, Liam urged, “Just tell her how you feel. Explain what happened after the Wend--”
“I have,” Killian told him. “But it’s not that simple. She’s with someone now. I don’t want to make things more complicated for her, or be the reason things fall apart and cause her more pain.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, brother,” Liam confided. “I have it on good authority that things were rocky between her and Neal long before we got here. If I were a betting man, I’d say their relationship has run its course and it’s only a matter of time before he’s out of the picture completely.”
“And you think I ought to be waiting in the wings, ready to pick up the pieces? A bit opportunistic, don’t you think?”
“I think,” Liam countered in a somber yet affectionate tone, “you should give yourself permission to fight for what you want. Give yourself permission to be happy. You deserve that as much as anyone else, little brother.”
Killian swallowed past the tightness in his throat and gave his brother a nod of understanding before following him inside, muttering younger as they entered the carriage house.
~/~
Consciousness came slowly, lazily, and with little effort. Stretching out the few kinks peppering her body, Emma could not remember the last time she’d slept so well. Allowing herself a few more moments of comfort, she hugged the pillow beside her and sighed into its softness. The smell of her laundry detergent and the lavender scented dryer sheets filled her sinuses and a contented smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
After they’d returned home from the cemetery, Emma had made her way upstairs and surveyed her room. Her room. No physical sign of Neal remained; a fact that had enveloped her in a blanket of relief. She’d wasted no time stripping the bed, replacing the sheets she’d last shared with him with fresh ones from the linen closet.
From the depths of her dresser drawer she’d pulled out the raggedy t-shirt she’d almost always worn to bed before Neal had become a frequent overnight fixture. The one he’d mocked incessantly until she finally replaced it with a cami or some other barely there pajama top. The soft, worn fabric felt like the embrace of an old friend on her skin, welcoming her back with comfort and ease.
Out of habit, she’d pulled back the blankets on what had been her side for the past couple months, but then stopped herself. She’d only started sleeping on that side, the one closest to the door, because Neal had preferred the other. The one closer to the bathroom, so he wouldn’t have to go too far if he awoke in the middle of the night, ensuring he’d get back to sleep quickly. Nevermind the fact he was never quiet about it and often woke her up in the process.
She supposed she could sleep on whichever side she chose now. Hell, she could take up the entire bed if she wanted. Smiling, she’d climbed onto the mattress and slid beneath the covers smack dab in the middle of the bed. Nestled beneath the weight of the extra blankets--Neal had always wanted it as cold as possible when he slept, despite her desire to stay warm and cozy--Emma had drifted off perfectly content.
Well, almost perfectly content.
There was that small pang of disappointment that it was a stack of quilts and not Killian’s body pressing her into the mattress before sleep fully claimed her. She’d be lying if she said it had only been a fleeting thought. Her dreams of him had been anything but fleeting.
Reluctantly, Emma rolled over and reached for her phone. Unplugging it from the charger, she did a double take when she read the time.
1:16 PM
“Holy shit!” Shooting up, she struggled to detangle herself from the blankets. Grabbing a pair of nearby leggings, Emma hopped towards the door on alternating legs as she struggled to put them on. A glance towards the guest room showed it to be empty, and after making her way down the stairs, another look into the study revealed the same. Turning into the kitchen, she stopped short at the sight of a shirtless Killian Jones, hair sticking up at odd angles with pajama pants perched precariously low on his hips, filling a cup of coffee.
“Morning, love,” he offered in a rough, gravelly voice before bringing the steaming mug to his lips. After a quick, testing swallow he turned towards her fully, his eyes taking her in over the brim as he took another sip. Tonguing an errant drop from the corner of his mouth, he smirked and said, “Nice shirt.”
Glancing down at herself, Emma remembered which shirt she’d put on the night before… and where it had come from in the first place.
“You’ve been taking good care of it, I see.” Before Emma could respond, Killian grabbed another cup from the cabinet and asked, “Coffee?”
“Uh, y-yeah,” she stammered. “Please.”
By the time he’d poured and handed her the beverage, she managed to pull herself together.
Sort of.
“Guess I’m not the only one who overslept?”
Scratching his fingers through his hair, Killian followed her to the living room, a yawn escaping him as he replied, “Seems so.”
Sinking down on opposite ends of her couch, they both took a drink and waited for the coffee to do its thing. Or for the other one to break the ice. Emma wasn’t quite sure which.
“Have you seen Liam?” she asked, tucking her feet beneath her and wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. For all its comfort and charm, the carriage house still had issues with letting in the morning chill.
Killian pulled an afghan off the back of the chair next to him and handed it to her. “Aye. Briefly.” He helped her spread out the blanket so she wouldn’t have to put her mug down, then added, “He woke me up about half an hour ago. Said he was going to meet Belle at the library and ask her about that key.”
Emma nodded and brought the cup up to her lips, murmuring against the edge, “I’ll call Ruby and see if she can work her magic on Graham.”
Setting her coffee down, Emma took her phone out of the side pocket of her leggings. She was scrolling through her contacts when Killian asked, “How’s Neal this morning? Haven’t seen him since yesterday’s unfortunate event.”
Sucking in her bottom lip, Emma warred with herself before confessing, “He’s, uh… He’s gone.”
“Gone to work?” Killian replied. “I would have thought he’d call out, but I suppose I can’t blame him for wanting to get out of the house for a bit.”
Emma opened her mouth to correct him, but was cut off by an incoming call. She didn’t recognize the number which normally would mean she wouldn’t answer. This time, however, she’d risk a telemarketer in order to have a reprieve from the current topic of conversation.
“Hello?”
“Miss Swan?” inquired a male voice on the other end of the line.
“This is she.”
“Miss Swan, this is Robin Locksley. We met briefly at Regina Mills’ house yesterday?”
Sitting up straighter, she waved at Killian to get his attention (which she already had) and took the phone away from her ear, putting it on speaker. “Yes, Mr. Locksley, I remember.”
Killian scooted closer and the two of them hovered over the phone as the man replied, “Oh, call me Robin. Please.”
“Robin,” Emma repeated. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve had a talk with Miss Mills… Regina, and she wonders if you’d mind her and I coming to the carriage house so we can all talk some more about… you know.”
“Of course!”
“Terrific. We can head that way in about an hour and be there around four?”
“We’ll be here.”
Killian leaned in so his voice would be picked up clearly, and said, “Robin, mate. It’s Killian. May I ask… What made Regina change her mind?”
Silence echoed over the line to the point that Emma wondered if Robin had ended the call before Killian spoke. The clearing of a throat attested otherwise.
“I’d prefer to have that conversation in person… if you don’t mind.”
Emma shared a bemused look with Killian who haltingly replied, “Sure thing, mate.”
A heavy sigh crackled over the phone. “Thanks. We’ll see you both soon.”
“Aye. Safe travels.”
“See you soon.”
Ending the call, they both sat back into the cushions, dumbfounded over this sudden turn of events. Now that Emma had a chance to process it, a series of concerns ran through her mind.
“You seem vexed, love. Unexpected as it may be, this is a good thing.”
“I know,” Emma said, worrying her lip. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
Turning her body, Emma looked up at Killian, momentarily distracted by his chest, and whispered, “Is it really a good idea for her to come here? What about… you-know-who? We won’t have a chance to… you know, until after dark. Won’t Regina being here to find closure with Daniel amp Cora up?”
“Probably,” Killian responded nonchalantly, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Unless we create a warded area that will keep her from interfering.”
Cocking her head to one side, Emma stared at him with a dubious expression and muttered, “How, exactly, do we do that?”
Shooting her a cocky grin and lifted brow, he crooned, “Leave that to me, love. Leave that to me.”
Emma snorted at his ridiculousness and was once again sidetracked by her phone. “It’s Ruby,” she said, putting her friend on speaker. “Hey, Rubes. I was just about to call you.”
“Too late,” Ruby said. “Belle got me first. I just talked with Graham.”
She shared yet another glance with Killian. They both should have known Liam wouldn’t waste time putting things in motion.
“And?” Emma prompted. “What did he say?”
“He said the best he could do was give you an hour of no patrols at shift change.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ruby replied. “He said, and I quote, ‘the mayor will have my guts for garters if he finds out I suspended patrols this close to Halloween.’ I mean honestly… who talks like that?”
Emma nearly laughed out loud at the affronted look on the face of the man she knew full well said things just like that.
“Sorry I couldn’t do better.”
“You did plenty, Rubes,” Emma assured her. “Do me a favor and let Belle know so she can tell Liam?”
“Will do,” Ruby replied, and Emma could almost hear the shift in her friend’s demeanor before she sultrily inquired, “So… how’s it going with Mr. Hot Cemetery Makeout Guy? You buy a ticket on that ride yet?”
“Ruby!” Emma exclaimed as Killian choked on the last bit of coffee he was polishing off and erupted into a fit of coughs.
“Oh, shit! He’s right there, isn’t he?”
“I have to let you go.” Without waiting for a response, Emma hung up and got up from the couch. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
His hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her, and he managed to croak out, “It’s fine, Swan. No need.” With one last cough, he cleared his throat then swallowed hard against the tight knot that had formed there. “See? Right as rain.”
“I’m sorry about Ruby, she’s…”
“No need to apologize,” he said, and it seemed to Emma that he was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was only half dressed. Releasing her wrist, he stood and headed towards the hallway. “I should get myself dressed. Robin and Regina will be here soon, and we need to…”
“Right,” Emma agreed, feeling a bit self-conscious about her own appearance. The thin material of her shirt likely left little to the imagination, especially since she wasn’t wearing a bra, to say nothing about the painted-on quality of her leggings. “I need to shower and get ready.”
Her face went red at the mention of a shower, and the traitorous thought of asking him to join her. Fortunately, Killian spoke again before her tongue could betray her.
“I’ll check-in with Liam and let him know of Regina’s impending arrival. Take your time. I’ll take care of getting things ready.”
As much as Emma wanted to question him about what that might entail, her instinct to run whenever things got emotionally overwhelming took over. Though she’d spent years trying to overcome the reaction and the root of its cause, it still reared its ugly head from time to time. Usually, she would berate herself when it did, but this time she was glad for it.
Racing up the stairs, she entered her room and firmly closed the door behind her. Shedding her clothes, it wasn’t until she was under the spray of the shower--the dial turned to a much colder temperature than usual--that Emma allowed herself to face the truth of why she’d run from him just now.
Because if she hadn’t, she would have done as Ruby suggested, and having Regina Mills show up as she was riding Killian probably wasn’t the best way to help the woman get closure.
~/~
It was much later than four before Robin and Regina arrived. Still struggling with doubt and a whole host of other emotions, Miss Mills had apparently insisted the two stop several times along the way. At one point, Robin had called to inform them of their updated estimated time of arrival, which would be cutting it close to the window of opportunity they had to enter the mausoleum. Knowing Emma would need one of the brothers there for support and assistance with helping Daniel move on, it was decided that Killian would stay behind while Liam and Belle - who was the one securing the key from the groundskeeper later that evening - would deal with Cora’s resting place.
When Robin and Regina finally arrived, the former extended heart-felt apologies while the latter coolly offered a ‘sorry I’m late’ before strolling into the structure she likely had not set foot in for many years, possibly decades. Emma welcomed them both, her nerves taking over and causing her to overshare about the remodel as Regina perused her surroundings. It wasn’t until Killian invited them all to have a seat in the living room, offering beverages that might make the situation a little less tense that everyone began to relax and soften.
“I must say,” Regina stated, accepting the offered libation being handed to her, “you have done a remarkable job here. Everything looks impeccably finished yet it feels so homey.”
“Thank you.” Swan took a swallow of her own drink, obviously allowing herself time to formulate a more in-depth response.
Killian, however, did not wish to waste time on small talk. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he began, cradling his tumbler in his hands as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on the tops of his thighs, “what changed your mind about coming here? You did not seem very keen on the idea when we left you, and given the amount of stops you made along the way, it seems you may not yet be completely at ease with the decision to be here.”
“Yes, well…” Regina took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. “You’re right. When you and Miss Swan left, I thought you were either some sort of conman team set out to swindle me, or completely insane.” Glancing over to the man seated beside her on the sofa, she added, “But after you were gone, Robin sought me out to check on me, and after I told him what you had said, he…”
Hesitantly, Robin reached over and took Regina’s hand, picking up on her distress before it became apparent to either Emma or Killian.
“I asked Regina whether she was willing to take the chance on you not being crazy and missing out on the opportunity to heal a long held wound.” Shifting in his seat, Robin met Killian’s eye and said, “I have some experience with unrestful spirits. My wife, Marion, visited me after her death.”
Robin gave them both an appreciative nod then shared the story of his wife’s passing. Her death had been sudden and tragic; a fire had broken out at her workplace and due to several fire code violations, she and several of her co-workers had perished in the blaze. Robin had been out of town for work in a rather remote area and had not spoken to his wife for several days, only communicating via e-mail. When he was notified of what happened, he’d been told she was identified by dental records and there was no need for him to identify the body. In fact, he was encouraged not to, being told he would not wish to remember her that way.
“Of course, I said good-bye to her at the funeral, but…” Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, Robin looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to quell the tears pooling in his eyes. “It felt so empty. I remember being tortured by the fact that I couldn’t even remember the last thing I ever said to her. Had I told her I loved her? Had I made her feel missed? Or had I been short and flippant because I was busy?”
Taking a fortifying drink, he gave himself a moment before clearing his throat to continue. “It was about a month after her death that I started to… experience things.”
“What sort of things?”
“The smell of her perfume, an indentation on her pillow, the feeling of her presence, and what I thought to be the occasional glimpse of her in the corner of my eye. I thought I was going mad, and I confided in one of my mates, Will.”
“And did this Will believe you?”
Robin let out a light chuckle. “Not only did he believe me, he dragged my arse to a psychic medium he knew.”
“You went to a psychic?” Emma inquired, fascinated. “Who?”
“A woman by the name of Zelena,” Robin told her. Killian filed the name away in the back of his mind and encouraged the man to tell them more about the meeting with her. “She backed up all my experiences. Said that those who die suddenly or violently often have difficulty moving on due to having unfinished business. She, uh… she helped me get closure. She helped me say a proper good-bye.”
Killian did not wish to offend the man, but he had to ask. “And you are certain she was… legit?”
To his relief, Robin smiled at the question. “Regina said the same thing.”
“I did,” Miss Mills said, sheepishly. “And I’m still not sure I believe in ghosts, or psychics, or any of this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the room around them. “But what Robin told me in reply made me at least keep an open mind and be willing to see this through.”
Killian and Emma shared a common look of curiosity before Swan asked, “What did you tell her?”
“I told her,” Robin said, squeezing Regina’s hand. “That even if I had imagined everything that had happened after Marion’s death, and even if Zelena was a total fraud… The closure was real. The peace is real. The firm belief that Marion is in a better place, her unfinished business resolved… that’s real. And it has allowed me to move forward through my grief into a life that is still worth living.”
A long pause hung in the room; Robin and Regina looked fondly at one another while Killian and Emma shared furtive glances. The buzz of Killian’s phone broke the reverie, and he apologized as he pulled the device from his pocket.
Key acquired. Headed to the cemetery. The text from Liam read. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Killian turned his attention back to the couple who was looking at him expectantly.
“So…” Regina drew out, hesitantly. “What now?”
“Now,” Killian replied, getting to his feet. “We get you and Daniel the same closure.”
Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.
A/N: So... good news and bad news. Bad news: this isn't the final part. Good news: the entire fic is finished, so you won't have to wait as long between updates!
Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills! Also a HUGE thank you to @snowbellewells who made the cover art for my birthday last year. Thank you again, Marta! I absolutely love it!
Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four
Part Five
The road stretched on endlessly, the journey home feeling as though it took twice as long as it had going to see Regina Mills. Deafening silence was punctuated by each mile marker, and Emma was excruciatingly aware of every breath, every glance, every minute movement Killian made.
A thick tension surrounded them both, and neither of them wished to burst the fragile bubble that had formed from their confessions. A silent purpose which left Emma with only her thoughts. Thoughts of Daniel, unable to move on. Thoughts of Regina, betrayed and lied to all these years.
Then there were the other thoughts; the ones she tried to push away, unwilling to give them any attention until the whole ghost ordeal was over. In an effort to heed them off, Emma attempted to focus her mind on less complicated matters. Mentally, she went over to-do lists. Outstanding deadlines for work. Gatherings to plan for the upcoming holidays. The punch list of final tasks for the restoration. The best way to break things off with Neal.
Emma was caught off guard by that final thought. So much so, she was surprised Killian had not inquired what was wrong with the way she’d physically reacted to the random notion.
Was it really random, though?
It’s not as if she hadn’t been considering ending things with Neal for several weeks now, ever since he’d moved himself into the carriage house. They had never even had a conversation about it. One day it had simply dawned on her that all of his stuff was there and that they were living together. Of course, that was sort of how their relationship had started.
In an effort to pull her out of her heartache, her friends had insisted she attend every dinner, event, activity, and group outing they’d overplanned. She’d only met Neal a couple of times before that; he was August’s friend from high school (which should have been a red flag, even if she did consider August a friend) and had moved into the area a few months before their gang had graduated college. With each ‘group-thing’, fewer of her friends attended, until eventually, on a night when she’d gone to the local bar after work for a meet-up, she found herself sitting there with only Neal for company.
Emma knew her friends weren’t the biggest fans of their relationship, but Neal had been there to fill the void none of the rest of them could. It wasn’t until after she’d finally started coming out of the fog that she realized he couldn’t fill it either. No one could.
Save for the man seated beside her.
Enduring the excruciating quiet in his own way as they hit the town line.
Passing by the library, Killian hesitantly broke the silence. “How do you think my brother and Belle got on?”
“How? Or Where?” Eyes widening and cheeks pinking, Emma hadn’t intended for the dirty innuendo to slip out.
Killian didn’t miss a beat. After a full-chested laugh he waggled his brows at her, quipping, “Indeed. I imagine they left the circulation desk, the conference table, and various stacks scandalized.”
“Are you suggesting my friend is a tramp?” Emma challenged in an amused and mock-affronted tone.
“I would never dream of besmirching Miss French’s good name,” Killian replied. “The only harlot in this scenario is my brother. Don’t let the self-righteousness fool you, love.”
Another laugh was not the only thing they shared as Killian pulled up to her house. Soft smiles and a gaze that spoke volumes passed between them. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Emma wet her lips and inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm her racing heart. The way Killian’s eyes fell to her mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing in response to her tongue’s action was not helping matters.
“We should, um…”
“Aye. We ought to…”
Awkwardly, they exited the car and headed inside.
“I’ll tell Liam of our meeting with Regina and get an update from him if you’d like to check-in with Neal and--”
“Killian? Emma?” Liam’s voice called out from upstairs. “You better get up here.”
Sharing a brief, worried glance, they swiftly headed up the stairs, the urgency in Liam’s tone adding haste to their steps.
Emma expected to find him in the guest room, and was therefore surprised to see him hovering at her bedroom’s doorway.
“What is it, brother?” Killian inquired from behind her.
Peering around the elder Jones, Emma’s brows scrunched tightly together. “Neal? What’s going--”
“That isn’t Neal.”
The quiet warning underpinning his words caused the hairs at the back of her neck to raise. Killian rushed forward to stand next to his brother, partially blocking her from the room.
Peering over the brothers’ shoulders, she looked at the man standing calmly in the middle of her bedroom and asked, “What do you mean that isn’t Neal?”
Murmuring under his breath, Liam answered, “He’s possessed by a spirit. I’m just not sure which spirit.”
“Emma, did you see Regina? Did you speak with her?” Neal - or rather, Not Neal - took a step forward with an air of desperation; an action that had the Jones brothers even more guarded than before.
“I, uh…”
“Please,” he said, keeping his focus on Emma. “I know I shouldn’t have, but taking over your boyfriend’s body was the easiest way for us to communicate. I need to know if you saw her. What did she say?”
“Are we to assume you are Daniel?” Killian inquired, inching into the room while still barring Emma from entering.
“Of course I’m Daniel,” Not Neal replied, urgently. “But we don’t have much time. I don’t know how much longer I can keep hold.”
“Why are you only now using this tactic?” Liam also stepped into the room, positioning himself a few feet to Killian’s left. “You haven’t used possession before.”
“I didn’t know I could,” Not Neal answered. “And even if I had, I don’t think I would have been strong enough before.”
“So, what’s changed?” Killian asked, his arm slightly extended from his body in an effort to signal her to stay behind him when she crossed the threshold into the room.
“Hope,” Not Neal exhaled. “Ever since you found those letters and understood what I needed you to do, hope began to strengthen me.”
“And you discovered you could possess the living how?”
Not Neal waved off Liam’s question and turned his attention towards Emma once more. “There’s no time for me to explain. I need to know about Regina. Please, tell me what happened before the other one can interfere and overpower me again.”
“Who is the other spirit? Who is keeping you subdued?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” Agitation and impatience slipped through the genial facade and with an edge of menace, Not Neal demanded, “Tell me what you told Regina and what she said.”
Killian shifted his posture and shot a knowing glance at his brother before stating, “You’re not Daniel. Who are you?”
“I am Daniel!” the spirit protested, moving to close the gap between them all. “Emma, you have to believe me. You’re the only one who--”
Both brothers countered Not Neal’s approach, shielding her from the spirit’s advance.
“You don’t speak to her.” Killian’s lowered tone and threatening timbre had the fine hairs of Emma’s body raising in an altogether different way than it had been. “I’m the one you’re going to deal with. Tell me who you are.”
Not Neal’s entire demeanor changed. Instead of a gentle and friendly expression, Neal’s face turned smug and bitter.
“Think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“Cleverer than most, though frequently underestimated.”
Not Neal scoffed and rolled his eyes, defiance and arrogance oozing from every inch of his body.
“We can stand here all day if you like, but you will answer our questions.”
A derisive hum vibrated against Neal’s lip and his form sauntered forward until it was toe-to-toe with Killian. “I’m sure your pretty face usually buys you a lot, but not my time.” Neal’s eyes shifted and met Emma’s, sending a cold chill down her spine. “You should have left well enough alone.”
Before any of them could respond, Neal’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body dropped towards the floor. Mercifully, Liam and Killian were able to catch him and lower him safely to the carpet.
“Neal!” Emma pushed past the brothers and knelt at his side, shaking his shoulders. “Neal, wake up!”
“Here,” Liam said, passing something to her. “Smelling salts. Should do the trick.”
Emma uncorked the small bottle and wafted it under Neal’s nose. The effect was almost instantaneous. With a wild jolt, Neal’s eyes shot open and he attempted to sit up.
“Woah, there mate,” Killian advised, placing a hand against his shoulder to keep him from getting up too fast. “Take it slow.”
“Wh-What the hell happ--”
“The unknown spirit possessed you, I’m afraid,” Liam said, sympathetically. “I know everything feels wrong and distorted, but I assure you, it’ll pass quickly.”
“Wrong is an understatement,” Neal muttered, shaking himself.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “Did they hurt you in any--”
“She,” Neal corrected. “It was definitely a she.”
With assistance from the brothers, Neal was hauled up to his feet. Emma reached out to help steady him as he swayed, annoyed at Liam’s immediate interrogation once Neal was settled on the edge of the bed.
“Were you able to identify her? Sometimes those possessed can gain knowledge of the possessing spirit. Any idea why she possessed you, or how she knew she could? Anything you can tell us could be helpful.”
“Liam,” Killian admonished. “Give the man a moment to collect himself.” Crouching down in front of Neal, Killian looked up at him with a sympathetic expression and asked, “Can I get you anything, mate? Water? Maybe something a bit stronger?”
His eyes cut over to Emma and despite her concern for the man seated beside her who was still clearly shaken, she let out an amused huff and attempted to stifle the smile Killian’s words engendered. The truth was, they all could probably do with a stiff drink right about now.
“I uh…” Neal’s utterances turned their attention back his way. Swiping a hand down his pale and clammy face, he said, “I don’t know how she knew she could, or even how it happened really, I just… all of a sudden I wasn’t in control of myself.”
Neal’s hand dug into the mattress, balling up the covers in his fist. Placing a comforting hand on his knee, Emma encouraged him to take his time then glanced at the Jones brothers. “Maybe we should give him time to rest a bit before forcing him to reliv--”
“No, it’s fine,” Neal countered with a slight bite in his tone. “There isn’t much I can tell you anyway… other than her identity.”
Taking his eyes off the floor for the first time since they’d helped him off of it, Neal met each of their expectant stares before locking his with Emma’s. “Cora. The other spirit is Cora Mills.”
“You’re certain?”
Even Killian rolled his eyes at his brother’s asinine question.
“What kind of question is that?” Neal spat. “Am I sure? You think that’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t be--”
“Apologies,” Liam offered with his hands raised in supplication. “It’s just… spirits can be tricky and we have to be sure the other spirit doesn’t want you to think it’s--”
“If he says it’s Cora, then it’s Cora,” Killian interrupted. Standing, he reached out and took Liam by the shoulder, guiding him towards the door. “Which means you and I have work to do. Let’s leave Neal and Emma be while we come up with our plan of attack.”
“Of course,” Liam acquiesced, a bit reluctantly. “I am eager to hear how things went with--”
“Aye, but it may be best to have that conversation outside.” Glancing around them, he reminded, “You never know who might be listening.” Before the two departed down the stairs, Killian called out over his shoulder, “We’ll be downstairs if either of you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Emma answered at the doorway, having followed them towards the door so she could close it, allowing her and Neal some privacy. With her back now pressed against it, she took in the pitiful sight of her boyfriend. She knew she ought to feel more in this moment. More concerned. More sorry. More upset. But…
It wasn’t that she didn’t feel those things, she simply wished she wasn’t the one expected to help him through it. If given the option, she’d much rather be downstairs discussing the day’s events and coming up with their next step.
She was a terrible person.
With a heavy exhale, Emma pushed away from the door and approached Neal with soft steps. “Neal, are you sure you’re ok--”
“No, I’m not okay!” he exploded, shooting up to his feet. “How could you even think I’d be okay after something like that?”
“You’re right,” she said, sheepishly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stupid question. Sorry.”
Neal ran a hand down his face then let it fall dramatically down to his side with an equally significant sigh. “I think it’s time to cut our losses.”
Brows furrowing and head cocking to one side, Emma replied, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, fuck this!” Neal exploded once more, frantically gesturing around them. “Fuck all of this! Let’s get out of here. Pack up our stuff and leave this place behind.”
“Pack up and go where?”
“Anywhere! Anywhere but here. Anywhere but this house and this town.”
“Neal…” she began with a weighty pause. “You know I can’t do that. This is my home. Not just this house, but this whole place. This is where my friends are. Where my family is.”
Neal scowled and let out a derisive scoff. “Yeah, friends that think I’m a loser and family that thinks I’m not good enough for you.”
Unable to hold back the huff of amusement, Emma reminded him, “Yeah, well. David thinks that about everybod--”
“God dammit, Emma! How can you be so flippant? How can you want to stay? How can you even think of spending one more second in this house?”
“Because. It’s. My. Home, Neal.” She knew he’d been through a lot, but surely the man who had been brought up like her, bouncing from one foster home to the next until finally making a life for themselves on the streets would never think to ask that question. “You, of all people, should understand what that means to me.” Nibbling a piece of skin peeling from her lip, she added, “Besides, I can’t abandon Daniel. He--”
“He’s dead!” Neal shouted, now getting in her face as if an up close look at his anger would change her mind. “Dead, Emma. You don’t owe him a goddamn thing!”
“Well, what about Liam and Killian?” Neal’s expression hardened at the mention of the Jones brothers' names. “They came all this way to help us. Am I just supposed to send them packing in the middle of the job?”
“Some job,” Neal sneered. “Things have only gotten worse since they got here, but I get why that doesn’t seem to bother you any.”
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, Emma. I know there’s something going on between you and Captain Guyliner.”
“Neal,” she said in a firm tone. She may be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them. “There’s nothing going on between me and Killian.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he replied as he took a few steps back, his tone indicating he didn’t really believe her. “But you haven’t been completely honest about him. Admit it.”
“I told you we had a past. I never hid that from you.”
“Past. Right,” he clipped. “Then why does the guy use a half-naked picture of you as a bookmark?”
Emma blanched and dropped her arms. “Wh…What are you talking about?”
Approaching her again, he held her gaze as he relayed, “I’m talking about a picture of you, half-naked, wedged between the pages of some other guy’s journal.”
“When did you…?” Confusion turned to indignation. “Did you go snooping through Killian’s things?”
“Oh, no,” Neal said, waving his finger at her. “You don’t get to turn this around on me. Tell me why he has a picture of you, half-naked--”
“In a bikini,” Emma clarified, hotly. “I’m in a bikini in that photo, because I was on spring break.”
“So you admit to sending it to him,” Neal replied with an almost gloating undertone, as though he’d caught her in an ‘I gotcha’ moment.
“Of course, I sent it to him. We were in a relationship at the time.”
“Oh, and I guess you think it’s no big deal that he keeps it as a bookmark in that freaky journal of his?”
Emma could not believe they were having this conversation. With everything else going on, this… THIS? This was the thing he was willing to wage war over?
“Neal, I don’t have time for your petty jealousy right now. If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you.”
He’d clearly not been expecting that. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” she affirmed with a vigorous nod. “You made your feelings about staying here very clear, and to be honest… I’ve thought it best for us to end things and for you to move out for some time now.”
Neal’s expression darkened and his jaw tightened. “Let me guess. About the same time you reached out to your old flame?”
“Before that, actually,” Emma stated, matter-of-factly. “But I don’t expect you to believe it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re moving out.”
“I guess so,” he challenged, probably expecting her to take it all back if it seemed he really might leave.
“You can pack a bag for now then come back for the rest of your things later. I’ll have it all boxed up for you.”
He swallowed tightly, still hoping he was just calling her bluff and said, “No need. I’ll pack it all and be out of here tonight.”
“Great,” she said, holding out her hand, “Then I’ll just take your key and give you some space to do that.”
He stared at her for several moments, his eyes shifting between her face and her hand, until finally it seemed to click; she was serious. She really wanted him out. Out of her house and out of her life.
“Fine,” he growled, stomping over to the dresser where he kept his personal items and prying the house key off the ring. Slapping it into her palm, he said, “Just do me one favor.”
She closed her stinging hand around the sharp metal of the key. “What’s that?”
“Try not to fuck him the minute I leave.”
Emma rolled her eyes and made her way to the door. “Grow up, Neal.” Crossing the threshold, she grabbed the handle and couldn’t resist leaving without throwing out a final barb. “It’ll take more than a minute to strip the bed and put on fresh sheets.”
Slamming the door behind her, Emma stood seething for several moments before mortification set in. The ringing of anger within her ears had subsided, replaced by the deep timbre of the brothers’ voices as they conversed with one another downstairs.
Had they heard everything? She and Neal hadn’t exactly kept their voices down. Hopefully, they’d been outside discussing what each had learned from their morning’s inquiries for the majority of the break up. As assured and confident as she was that ending things with Neal was the right decision, it was still humiliating.
Although, no less humiliating than Neal’s behaviour the entire time Liam and Killian had been there.
She really could not believe she’d let the relationship go on for as long as it had.
One thing was for sure, Ruby would be insufferable over the news. The I told you so’s would probably never end… but neither would the celebratory drinks she’d insist on buying, so Emma guessed that would help balance things out.
Making her way downstairs, Emma found the brothers seated at the dining table hunched over a map. Hearing her approaching steps, the two glanced up. Liam gave her an acknowledging nod, then turned his eyes back down while Killian kept his gaze trained on her. The way he looked at her had always made her toes curl and her breath shaky in the best way. In an effort to mask her breathlessness and erratic heart rate, Emma tossed her hair over her shoulder and planted her hands against the table.
“So… catch me up.”
“Is Neal alright?” Liam asked with a note of concern.
“Um, yeah. He’s just…” Emma gestured vaguely in the direction of her room, not wanting to lie, but not quite ready to confess the truth.
“Probably best he rests,” Killian interjected, drawing his own conclusions to Emma’s response. “Possession isn’t something I’d wish on anyone.” Leaning back he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a chain with some sort of symbol as a pendant. “In fact, I think it best you wear this until we get Cora sorted.”
Reaching across the table, Emma took the necklace from him, her skin pebbling in response to the way their fingers brushed against each other’s.
“What is it?” she asked with her attention trained on the swinging pendant, hoping he hadn’t noticed the goose bumps.
“It’s an anti-possession sigil,” he explained. “Also known as a demon trap. It’ll keep Cora, or any spirit or being, from being able to take you over.” Flicking a more significant look her way, he added, “It’ll keep you safe.”
“Don’t you… What about you? Don’t you need it? For protection?”
Killian gave her a soft smirk and cut his eyes towards his brother. Pulling open the collar of his shirt, he said, “We’ve got that covered.”
Beneath the thick mat of chest hair, Emma could make out the sigil inked into his and his brother’s skin. A more permanent layer of protection that Emma did not wish to think too long on as to the circumstances that had led to such a choice.
“Here,” Killian said, rounding the table. “Let me help you with that.”
Gently, he took the necklace from her grip and motioned for her to turn around. Emma lifted her hair so he could wrap the chain around her neck and secure the clasp.
“I should have given it to you when we first arrived,” he murmured. “I never considered the spirit here would know they could or manage enough energy to completely possess either you or…” Spinning her back around, Killian stared down at her with wide apologetic eyes. “Gods, Swan! I’m so sorry. I never asked how you were doing. I know what a fright it can be to see someone you care for taken over like that. Are you okay, love?”
“I… I’m fine. Really,” she assured him with a softly placed hand on his forearm. “As awful as it was, I’m just glad we finally know the identity of the other spirit.”
“As am I,” Liam said, turning their attention back towards the table. “I just wish we knew how she found out about possession.”
Emma gripped her bottom lip tightly with her teeth and closed her eyes before blurting out, “I think it was because of Neal.”
The brothers’ heads shot towards her in unison.
“I beg your pardon?”
“What do you mean?”
With her shoulders slightly scrunched, not thrilled about opening this particular can of worms, she glanced at Killian and said, “He mentioned something about opening your journal.”
“Your journal?” Liam repeated with a furrowed brow. “Why would he be looking in your journal, brother?”
Killian shook his head for a moment until Emma saw the truth dawn within the deep blue of his eyes.
“The photo,” he said, his cheeks turning rosy from the heat of his blush as it crested the tips of his ears.
“Photo? What photo?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Killian waved Liam off and brushed past Emma. The two followed him to the study where they found the aforementioned journal lying open on the pull out.
“What were you thinking leaving your journal open?” Liam admonished.
“Give me some credit,” Killian shot back. “I know better than that.”
“Why would it matter if the journal was left open?” Emma inquired, hoping the question would distract both brothers from the photo of her in that damned, scandalous, red bikini only a few feet away on the mattress.
“The journal is protected by the sigil, which means no spirit or demon can access it when it’s closed. When it’s open, however…”
“They can rifle through the bloody thing.”
Emma glanced down at the journal and noted it was open to a page titled, Possession, at the top.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, feeling even worse about Neal’s invasion of Killian’s privacy.
“It’s not your fault, Swan,” Killian assured her. Reaching across the bed, he picked up the photo and tucked it back into the journal before closing it firmly. After stuffing it away in his duffle he peeked up at her through his lashes, his hand pawing at the back of his ear. Perhaps realizing she wasn’t upset at him for still having the picture, he gave her that boyish, lop-sided smile of his and Emma couldn’t help but smile back.
“Well,” Liam began, shaking them both from the shared moment. “Now that mystery is solved, I suppose we should move forward with our plans. The sooner the better.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I say we try and deal with her tonight. With her out of the way, it may be easier for Daniel to move on, especially if we can contact him without her interference and let him know that Regina knows the truth. Or much of it, anyway.”
“When you say deal with her, I assume you mean…”
“Aye,” Killian said, gravely. “Fancy a trip to the cemetery, love?”
Summary: Using Twitter to ask an actual princess on a date may not have been Killian’s best idea - until it was.
The credit for the wonderful banners for this story goes to @hollyethecurious and @itsfabianadocarmo. Thank you both so much!
Killian spent the next hour pacing the length of his hotel room. He wasn’t anywhere near smart enough with technology to know how to delete the tweet, and he definitely wasn’t about to put out another asking for advice on how to do so.
He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. He’d let his anger at his brother overcome him, and now, he’d ruined what could possibly have been something special.
When his phone vibrated in his hand once again, Killian cringed. For the first time since he’d run into Princess Emma, the thought that it could be a notification of her reply made him feel slightly sick. A quick look at the screen showed her name, but Killian couldn’t bring himself to unlock the device to see what she’d written. Instead, he threw his phone down onto the bed and decided a hot shower would probably help to loosen him up a little.
While the steam helped to clear his mind, it didn’t help calm the nerves churning in his gut. He considered ignoring the message and just pretending that he never received it - but that would be cowardly, and he didn’t want whateverhe had with Princess Emma to fizzle out just because he stopped responding to her. She deserved better than that. He would just have to suck it up and apologise for snapping at her, then hope that she could find it in herself to forgive him.
When Killian opened the Twitter app, he was surprised to find no new message from the princess waiting in his notifications section. He checked her feed and the last tweet she had sent was about a charity organisation she worked with. It had been published three minutes after her last message to him. Confused, Killian pulled down the notification alerts on his iPhone. There was definitely a message from Princess Emma there, so he clicked on the link, hoping it would take him straight to it.
When the Twitter app launched again, he was taken to a different area of the site; one he’d never used before. It appeared to be some form of direct and private communication messenger, which he was instantly grateful for. Killian clicked on the message under her name as dread slowly replaced the confusion churning his stomach.
Is everything okay?
I hope I didn’t offend you.
I was going for light and breezy, but I guess that doesn’t always come across in 140 characters.
Killian’s dread was quickly replaced with a kind of warmth he’d never felt before. The princess was so incredibly sweet, and he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her concern.
No, you didn’t offend me.
Your message came across perfectly.
I’m just having a bad day.
I’m sorry I snapped at you.
Princess Emma’s reply was almost instantaneous. Killian really hoped she hadn’t spent too long waiting on his.
Phew.
For a second, I thought I’d annoyed you.
Sorry you’re having a bad day.
Did you get lost in the big city? ;-)
Killian chuckled as he arranged himself more comfortably on the bed so that he could lean back against the plush headboard.
No.
Believe it or not, I do know my way around the city.
I’d never have guessed it.
You know, what with the way you ran straight into me the other day.
Killian couldn’t believe he’d never discovered this form of tweeting before. It was much easier to be himself when he knew millions of people were not sitting on their phones, analysing every word he typed.
I was running a little late, and I wasn’t really looking where I was going.
I can’t apologise enough for walking into you.
There’s no need to apologise.
I’ve dreamed of your arms around me for a while now, and you’re definitely more firm in real life than you are in my dreams :-P
Killian’s heart kicked up a notch as he reread Princess Emma’s words. This was going well.
In that case, I’d happily hold you in my arms any day.
Anything to help make your dreams a reality ;-)
I’ll keep that in mind.
Sadly, work is keeping me chained to my desk right now. I have a bunch of financial reports to finish reviewing before the quarterly meetings next month.
I have to admit I would not trade my job for yours.
Learning lines seems like a walk in the park compared to what you’re doing.
Although, the thought of you chained to a desk is fairly appealing.
Killian allowed his mind to wander for a moment. What would Princess Emma look like while she was working? He’d never seen her in anything other than formalwear. Would she be dressed in some kind of power suit or maybe a sleek dress? Would her blonde hair be pulled back from her face to keep it from getting in the way? Did she need glasses when she was reading?
It’s not so bad. This is the most boring part of my job, but someone has to do it.
And I can think of more interesting places to be chained to :-P
.
.
.
Did I lose you with all the boring work talk?
Killian cursed himself again when he realised he’d been lost in thoughts of the princess at work for a little over ten minutes. His imagination had kicked into overdrive, and he had gone from picturing the princess in a sexy, professional look to something altogether more slutty in a matter of minutes. Apparently, he’d also completely ignored the vibrations of his phone during that time.
Sorry.
I was just trying to imagine what you’d look like.
The moment he hit send on his message, Killian wanted to kick himself. He might as well have gone the whole hog and asked her, ‘Whatcha wearing?’
Thankfully, Princess Emma didn’t seem too offended by his words.
Were you imagining me chained to a desk or at work? ;-)
Killian swallowed hard as he read her comment for a second time and then once more. He wasn’t used to women flirting back with him so directly. They were usually too busy fangirling over him or not bothering to give him so much as a second glance - there was rarely a middle ground. So having someone like Princess Emma flirt so outrageously with him over Twitter was a little dizzying.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Killian tapped out a reply and hit send.
A little of both!
Apparently, Princess Emma was full of surprises. Instead of typing out a reply to his suggestive message, she had decided to send her answer in photographic form. More specifically, she’d sent a picture of herself.
Killian’s hand shook slightly as he reached out to tap on the image, enlarging it so the picture would fill his screen.
Fuck, she was beautiful!
He’d gotten a couple of things right, at least. She’d pulled her blonde hair back into a messy bun on top of her head, and the little wisps that were too short to fit were left to frame her face. He’d also been right about the glasses. Princess Emma wore a large black pair that seemed to suit her perfectly, giving her an air of professionalism that he knew she would command in her office.
Everything else he’d gotten wrong.
The princess wasn’t bent over a desk, slaving over huge stacks of paperwork or hidden behind a computer screen. Instead, she appeared to be sitting cross-legged on the floor. There was a small pile of papers to her left, but the main feature of her image was the MacBook sitting in front of her. She also wasn’t wearing a suit. The princess had clearly decided to settle in for the night as she was wearing a pair of cream shorts that left her lower thighs and legs enticingly bare, and a black vest. Killian nearly spat his drink across the bed when he realised that the vest had the logo from his show printed across the front of it.
Sorry it’s not me chained to a desk.
I’m not sure how Anton would take that request.
Killian definitely spat some of his drink across the bed when he read that message.
Wow.
That was not what I was picturing at all.
It wasn’t eloquent in any sense of the word, but Killian was honestly surprised that his fingers still knew how to type words with her image so fresh in his mind.
I know… I look a mess right now.
Not quite as glamorous as my usual appearance.
Killian snorted out a laugh at her words. He was certain Princess Emma had never looked more beautiful than she did that evening. He would be forever jealous of whichever lucky aristocrat ended up making her his wife.
You look beautiful.
You’re sweet, but I’m sure I don’t.
I’ve been up since 5 am.
That does not make for a beautiful combination.
But thank you.
Now…
Your turn!
:-P
Killian gulped as he read through each of her messages. Was she asking what he thought she was asking?
Shit!
He wasn’t at all photo-ready – especially when the recipient was an actual princess. Yet, a large part of him didn’t want to let her down, so Killian decided honesty was probably the best policy as he explained his situation to her.
I would, but I just got out of the shower.
Princess Emma’s response came through faster than any of her others had that evening.
And?
I can guarantee you won’t hear any complaints from me :-D
New Story: "Finding A Home" (a ridiculously belated birthday fic for @jrob64)
This fic was meant to be Joni's birthday gift last year, and there is no good excuse for why it has taken me this long to write a single fluffy one shot! Still, I hope she will enjoy it - late as it is - and that anyone else who stumbles across it will like it too!
Without further adieu, enjoy some Swan Believer goodness, an adorable puppy (in honor of Joni's own Cocoa), and veterinarian Killian!
(A non-magic Modern AU in which Emma and Henry are living in Boston
A rainy night brings an injured stray puppy into their lives, as well as the handsome veterinarian who helps them make their newest addition a happy, healthy member of their home… and he just might find himself a place there as well!)
Can also be read on AO3 here, if that is your preference
A fic birthday gift for @jrob64 (Joni)
by: @snowbellewells
Watching the windshield wipers swish back and forth across her vision frenetically, just barely keeping her view through the windshield clear enough to drive, Emma Swan had to concentrate on the road ahead of her as best she could to get herself and Henry home again safely. The route from his junior high school to their Hyde Park neighborhood was as familiar as the back of her hand after driving the same course most days for almost two years now, but that didn’t make the current conditions any less dicey once the grey clouds and the dense humidity that had hung over their heads all day had decided to break at last.
They had just pulled off the main thoroughfare onto the quieter street that led to their two-story rental when Henry shot forward suddenly with a cry of alarm. His desperate “Stop!” and outstretched hand had Emma stomping the brake without even knowing why; her heart catapulting up to lodge in her throat as a protective arm swung out on instinct across Henry’s chest.
“Henry!? Wha -?” her eyes darted over to her son, who stared anxiously out into the pelting rain before them, then followed his gaze, trying to locate whatever had caused him such alarm. When she did see, her words trailed off, and she caught her breath, immediately flicking on the car’s emergency blinkers and searching behind her on the backseat for the umbrella, not sure she wouldn’t be blinded otherwise once she stepped into the downpour.
Her hand on the door latch, Emma turned to look seriously into her son’s eyes. “Stay here. It’s too bad out, and someone might not see you. I’m just going to check.”
Henry nodded his understanding; teenager though he might be, he had yet to cease listening to her, or to ignore or challenge her authority as the horror stories of other parents had led her to believe he might. His wide, brown eyes that usually sparkled with mischief were solemn instead as he asked, “Mom, do you think it’s alright?”
Not at all sure of the answer to that question until she could get closer, she shook her head, refusing to lie to him, even to be comforting. “I don’t know yet, Kid. Just sit tight, and we’ll find out, okay?”
She was in the pounding rain then, praying her umbrella wouldn’t collapse or blow inside out, and hurrying over to the spot where Henry’s sharp eyes had led her to glimpse a limping blur of dark fur only briefly before it had seemed to collapse in a lump at the road’s edge. She had thought brightly golden eyes peered at them for a moment out of the early evening gloom and the watery onslaught, but now she wasn’t as sure. She dreaded going back to the car to tell Henry either that she couldn’t find the small animal they had nearly hit, or that it was too late for them to help it, so she pressed on. Emma firmly ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that goaded she simply didn’t want to leave some pitiful lost creature behind like she had been left so often.
At last, peering through sheets of rain amidst the tall weeds bordering the road, Emma finally found what she was seeking. There, huddled in the scrubby grass near the side ditch, was a soaked, bedraggled mound of matted and curly dark brown fur wetted down by the continuous beating rain. Squinting through the torrent and trying to push back the sopping strings of her hair so she could see better, Emma peered at the barely moving ball now clearly identifiable as the small dog she had feared it would be. Checking both ways for oncoming traffic again, Emma pushed herself forward, despite the hesitation at what she might see.
Crouching by the side of the road, Emma reached out tentatively, not wanting to get herself scratched or bitten by a frightened animal, but also knowing that the longer she lingered with her car in the way, the more annoyed and dangerous she would make any other traffic she blocked. When she touched the wet fur, a breath of relief escaped her upon also feeling shuddering tremors beneath her hand as they shook the small body. The pup - it must still be quite young, or a relatively small breed of dog - was also obviously breathing, as she could see a rise and fall of its side now that she was nearer and closer to eye level. She hesitated to pick it up, though, even to get it to the car, warmth, and help. Emma could easily surmise that animals were enough like people that jostling the poor thing without knowing what might be broken or punctured inside was not the best idea.
Still, ‘needs must’, she decided practically and with a quick look to see that there were now sets of headlights stopped behind her own, honking horns and questioning calls beginning to ring out on the air, Emma moved quickly and carefully; there was nothing else for it. Dropping the umbrella and shrugging out of her jacket, she laid the fabric over the shivering little dog and wrapped it around the quaking form, trying to slip her arms under while jarring it as little as possible.
Scrambling to her feet once more, she hurried back to the vehicle, completely drenched and already beginning to shiver. Henry had been anxiously watching and was already leaning across to open the door for her.
His eyes were wide, and his lower lip trembled a bit against his determined show of strength as Emma slipped in and gently laid the soppy, sweater-wrapped bundle of puppy across his lap. She focused on her son’s worried, “Were we in time? He isn’t… dead, is he?” rather than the growing cacophony she drowned out by slamming the door closed behind her and putting the VW back in drive.
“He’s still fighting, Kid,” Emma assured as they started forward again. The gulping swallow he’d had to take in the middle of his question had torn at her. Her son was so hopeful and empathetic, traits she wished she still possessed, and which she intended to keep him from losing, if it was at all within her power. She might come to regret her roadside rescue attempt yet, if the dog didn’t make it. She would be sad, of course, but she could already see that it would break Henry’s young heart.
Hoping to distract him, even slightly, with a purpose, Emma glanced over before focusing back on the road, then asked, “Have you noticed a veterinary clinic along this road, Henry? Or have we already passed it? Do you remember?”
His brown eyes lit up eagerly, pleased to have an answer that might help. “Yeah, there is! Not far past that pharmacy on the right, remember? One street over from us?” He was nodding emphatically even as he struggled to keep the rest of his body still, gently stroking the wet head beneath his hand.
Emma nodded grimly, glad her recollection had been right; their surprise passenger needed more help than she knew how to give, as soon as they could get it. “Then let’s just hope they’re still open and ready to go in this storm,” she said grimly, hands clutching the wheel just a bit tighter.
Henry nodded his agreement, but neither of them said anything else for several minutes as they drove cautiously, peering through the rain still slicking the windshield.
“There!” Henry called out again. His finger pointed ahead to a square, white building with a modest parking lot, thankfully illuminated by a lighted sign proclaiming: Park View Animal Hospital: 24 Hour Emergency Service.
“Finally,” Emma breathed out in a whoosh, her shoulders slumping gratefully for just a moment’s release of tension as they came to a stop in a parking space. Then, she was hurrying around to Henry’s side, taking the dog from Henry’s lap, and trying to carry it smoothly toward the front door as Henry ran ahead to open it.
Their entrance was a little dramatic for her liking, as they had both just managed to stop in the entryway, when a strong gust of wind pulled the door handle from Henry’s grasp and slammed it closed behind them with a window-rattling clap of thunder as punctuation. They were already starting to leave a puddle on the linoleum floor, Emma realized as she looked around sheepishly, glad the waiting area seemed largely empty.
The young woman at the admitting desk jumped up with an exclamation of surprise at their sudden entrance, but a more welcoming smile quickly graced her countenance as she rounded the counter behind which she sat, rapped smartly on a closed office door at the start of the hall leading further into the building, and greeted them with a welcoming smile. She was tall and slight, moving with a willowy grace that was immediately arresting. Her voice was low and soothing, and her straight, white teeth stood out even more clearly against her deeply tanned face and jet black hair worn coiled in two braids around the crown of her head. Despite the casual beauty and bearing that might have been rather intimidating, her gentle voice put Emma and Henry both at ease from the first words. “My, what a storm we’re having out there! Thank goodness you arrived safely. I’m TL, the vet tech and after-hours receptionist. What seems to be the problem?”
She indicated the shaking bundle in Emma’s arms, brow furrowed with concern. Emma stepped forward quickly to let the capable-looking woman see for herself. She was about to explain how they had found the poor dog, and what little she knew of the situation, when the office door opened, and a man in scrubs and a white lab coat stepped out to meet them, summoned by his assistant’s knock, no doubt. One look, and all of Emma’s words seemed to evaporate on her tongue. For several long seconds, she was dumbstruck- much as she hated to admit it, even to herself - and she swore her knees went as watery as jello for an embarrassing few moments.
Bright, intelligent, and somehow searing blue eyes arrested her, and in the strange interim, Henry piped up quickly. Emma blinked to clear her vision of the man’s striking looks, thankfully letting Henry ramble for a moment while she gathered her wits. If it seemed the startling blue depths of that gaze twinkled a bit with controlled mirth at her apparently obvious predicament, Emma tried not to dwell on it. By that time, her son was finishing his spiel with, “...so Mom got him in the car - I held him! - and we came here. Can you help him?”
A warm, deep rumble of an easy laugh came from the dark-haired, deliciously scruffy man before them as his eyes shifted from hers to Henry’s with a reassuring grin. “Well, that’s quite a request, Lad, but I will certainly do my best.” He gestured them further into the clinic to where they could just see an open exam room waiting beyond. “Come, let’s bring him in and see what can be done.”
When they stopped before a tall, sterile lab table, Emma rather gratefully laid the trembling bundle of wet, brownish, curly fur on its surface. Standing before the gorgeous man who was already murmuring low, soothing words to the frightened and vulnerable creature on his table and running large, capable hands over the poor dog’s slight form, seeking unseen injuries, caused her to shiver in response almost as much as the damp material clinging to the front of her body. The reverberations of his soft crooning ran through her, making Emma’s cheeks heat, and she had to seek desperately for something to focus on other than his hands and their deft, gentle touch.
“You alright there, Kid?” she asked her son, diverting her eyes to Henry at her side. Though he was wide-eyed with curiosity and interest in what the doctor was doing for his new four-legged patient, she could also tell by the way he bit his lower lip nervously that Henry was worried for the pup as well, no matter how grown-up and calm he tried to appear. Her boy was already attached to the small dog, even if the whole incident had unfurled so far in less than an hour.
Wordlessly, Henry nodded his assent, but Emma wasn’t completely surprised when his hand reached across, and his fingers slid into hers. Offering a reassuring smile, she squeezed lightly, hoping to offer what comfort she could.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Emma steeled herself to look back up to the veterinarian, praying that she would see some sign of good news on his visage. Granted, she was never one for doling out false hope, and she wanted to prepare herself and Henry if the news was bad. At the same time, without even realizing she had done so, Emma found that she was placing all her hope on the doctor standing before them, anxious for him to prove as exceptional as he appeared.
She was reaching the point of blurting out a demand for information - what he saw, what was happening, what he was going to do - when the dark head bent over the trembling dog in intent examination rose to look into her face seriously, the shocking blue of his gaze bearing an intensity that made her breath catch. A few molasses-thick, long, heated moments passed before the deeply accented voice that had greeted them upon arrival spoke with measured and soothing calm. “Well, Ms. …apologies, I don’t believe we even exchanged names, Lass.”
Emma flushed, ducking her head in an attempt to gather her thoughts with a chuckle. “We did kinda bust in like a whirlwind, didn’t we?” she agreed. “I’m Emma… Emma Swan, and this is my son, Henry.”
The frankly stunning veterinarian smiled warmly, “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Swan, and you, Master Henry,” he added with a playful smile. “I’m Dr. Killian Jones, and I’m very glad TL and I stayed late to take care of the cleaning and filing that never seems to get done during the day. Sometimes when things are this slow, I’m here along ‘on-call’, but I like to have an assistant in the surgery if at all possible. It’s a good thing that you found this little guy and brought him here when you did. With the storm going on out there, being wet, exposed to the elements, and with the temperature dropping for the night, he would have been in an even worse state than you see now.”
Killian Jones was scruffing his hand through the pup’s fur in a way the small canine seemed to thoroughly approve, as his trembling eased, and he was clearly leaning his head into the assured touch of the vet. It wasn’t long before the little critter let out a sort of low huff of relief that caught them all by surprise, making both adults chuckle and releasing a tension between Emma’s shoulder blades that she had hardly noticed she’d been holding.
Eyes wide and a hopeful grin completely lighting his face, Henry pressed forward then, unable to keep from reaching out to touch their little stowaway as well. “You said he could be a lot worse. That means you can help him, right? And he’s going to be okay?”
The dark head nodded with firm certainty as Dr. Jones smiled once more, full of express reassurances for her son that couldn’t fail to melt Emma’s heart. “Aye, Lad, I should indeed be able to fix our furry friend right up, almost as good as new.”
Patient and kind as he had been throughout their encounter with him, Dr. Jones guided Henry’s hand along the small form, easing the youngster to be able to feel what his experienced senses had uncovered. “You see here?” he instructed Henry as he deftly eased the shorter fingers and uncertain smaller hand along with his own. “Feel where that uneven place is?” The dog gave a low whimper, but didn’t move or snap, proving the trust this man had already inspired in his charge.
Henry nodded, no sound escaping him, though his mouth had fallen open in awe.
“Something hit him there and broke that bone. Thankfully, it feels like a clean break rather than several scattered fragments. I should be able to reset it and hold it still with a cast while it is healing, much like we would do for a person’s broken arm or leg. With a little time and good care, he should mend with no lasting adverse effects.”
Once her son seemed satisfied, Dr. Killian Jones did not waste much more time, no doubt anxious to see that the small creature wasn’t hurting any longer than necessary. Easily giving the dog an anesthetic and stroking a hand almost tenderly over his back as they waited for it to take effect, he explained in brief and simple terms what he would do and assured them that it was a standard and common procedure.
When he confirmed minutes later that it was time, TL appeared at Emma’s elbow with a friendly smile to show them back to the waiting room before she returned to assist her boss. The other woman seemed to sense her ricocheting thoughts and patted her shoulder warmly. She gave Emma a kindly smile, ruffling Henry’s hair playfully as she offered, “Try not to worry. The doc’s really good at what he does, and he’ll get the little guy all fixed up as soon as possible.” The twinkling sweetness in her gaze was reassuring before she vanished into the surgery, and they were left to wait.
Emma knew she was placing a lot of faith in someone she’d perhaps only spoken to for a total of ten minutes. Yet, even in that scant amount of time, Dr. Killian Jones had engendered a level of confidence that she rarely gifted anyone. Not only did he seem competent and professional, but there was a warmth in his manner that felt more than the minimum needed for his job; the caring he had shown both the injured animal and her young son had been genuine, and it drew her in as little else would.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling almost jittery as she and Henry sat together in the waiting room. Unlike her son, who seemed oddly at ease now, despite his earlier nerves. It was as if Dr. Jones’ patient explanation and the time he had taken to show Henry what had happened to the pup and how it could be repaired had put most of her boy’s fears to rest. Instead, she was the one fidgeting in her seat, biting her lower lip, and twisting the ends of her hair anxiously. What if some unexpected complication arose in surgery? If whatever was broken inside the small canine body was worse than first projected? Pragmatist she might try to be, telling herself that plain realism protected her son along with herself, but the puppy had already scratched at least two paws into her heart as well. If the kindly veterinarian could not do what he had seemed imminently certain of accomplishing, she would be more crushed than she’d like to admit - little boy in tow or not.
Thankfully, they weren’t left waiting an inordinate length of time, and the waiting room remained empty and quiet. The patter of rain and swirl of wind outside sounded almost soothing overhead and all around them as they waited, Henry spread out and did the small amount of homework he had before his eyelids began to droop lower, then flicked back open again, his head nodding drowsily where he sat. Though Emma knew her son wanted to keep vigil for the small dog that had somehow already become “theirs”, she could also tell that sleep was pulling at him more and more insistently.
After nearly three hours, the doors into the clinic’s operating bay opened, and Emma immediately shot to her feet without hesitation. Henry snapped upright as well, wide awake again. Dr. Jones strode toward them with a measured assurance that helped to soothe both mother and son’s clear anxiety even before he spoke.
A gentle smile tilted the corners of his mouth up as he focused first on the young man gazing up at him. “You’ve one tough little furball back there, Lad. He hung in just as we’d hoped, and he’s sleeping now. His body is on the mend as we speak. It won’t be immediate,” he ended with a serious note of caution, “but he will recover.”
Letting out a huge whoosh of air, Henry surged forward in a move that startled both adults momentarily, and wrapped his arms tightly around the vet’s torso, his face mostly hidden in the lab coat and his voice muffled as he offered his fervent thanks.
“That’s not necessary at all, Master Henry,” the doctor replied, looking up at Emma uncertainly for direction, even as his hand came up to pat the boy’s shoulder. “I would never leave an animal hurting if it was within my power to help. I’m merely grateful that compassionate people like yourself and your mother,” here his warm eyes reached across the few feet between them to caress Emma, “brought him to receive the help he needed.”
Emma sucked in a steadying breath, unable to fully ignore the heat that ran through her veins and spread in her stomach, rising to make her heart flutter erratically. She didn’t really feel she had done anything that exceptional, but it would take a stronger woman than she to turn from basking in his obvious favor. Knowing that she must be blushing furiously, she dropped his gaze and could barely meet Henry’s curious eyes either.
As if sensing that he’d embarrassed her slightly, Dr. Jones cleared his throat and pressed forward, changing their focus slightly. “I understand the little guy is not your dog,” he began carefully, “but when he wakes, do I need to call the local shelter? Or are you - “ his words trailed off awkwardly, needing to make arrangements for his small patient’s further recuperation, but clearly not wanting to exert pressure or guilt on them either.
He had read the situation correctly; Emma knew there was no withdrawing their investment in the pup’s life now. Henry’s head turned wildly toward her, his whole face lit with joy when he heard her response. “Oh, he’s coming home with us when he’s able,” she assured. “I think he’s ours now.”
She couldn’t even bring herself to mind the sort of rollercoaster her emotions had been on over the last few hours - not when Henry was bouncing with glee and practically dancing around her, nor at hearing the pleasant chuckle that rumbled through the veterinarian’s chest at her answer and the boy’s reaction.
Leaning in to speak lowly in her ear, Killian Jones murmured, “I did have a feeling that might be the case.”
She huffed playfully and attempted to give him serious side eye in response to the cheeky wink and crooked grin that had accompanied his words, but she wasn’t truly upset, and they both knew it.
By the time she and Henry made their way out the door some thirty minutes later, they had a list of preparations to make and supplies to purchase for the incoming member of their family, but somehow Emma’s heart still felt remarkably lighter.
~~ 🐾 ~~
The next day was Saturday, thankfully, because Henry was anxious to go and get their new pet from the very moment he woke. Emma had expected no less and wanted to see the furry little guy herself, especially now that he wouldn’t be soaking, scared, and in pain. She’d had breakfast ready and waiting and managed to get Henry to sit still long enough to eat it and then go to get dressed. They did still have to stop at the pet supply, as it had been late and still raining the night before, but she solemnly promised her son they would be at the animal hospital before noon.
When they walked through the clinic’s front entrance, they were once again greeted by Nurse TL behind the large reception desk. The tall, statuesque woman again gave lie to the sort of model serious beauty first impressions would suggest. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile on her lips that immediately made Emma curious.
“Welcome back, Swans,” she chirped enthusiastically, before adding, “I’m not sure who’s more excited to see you, your new puppy or Dr. Jones.”
Henry looked baffled by her words; his brow crinkling as his head tilted to the side, studying the veterinary assistant as he tried to work out her meaning. “Why would Dr. Jones be excited?” he asked curiously.
Giving Emma another significant look that had a blush climbing her neck, the raven-haired young woman merely smiled at Emma’s son sweetly and answered with complete innocence. “Well, naturally, the Doc is excited to see a dog who had no home going to people who will love and take care of him the way he deserves. I’m excited too; that’s always a happy thing to see.”
Though Emma was more than a bit mortified to have apparently been so obvious in her reaction to whatever current had been running between herself and Killian Jones the day before, she was at least grateful the other woman had kept her teasing subtle enough not to make Henry aware.
Thankfully, Emma’s embarrassment was interrupted by the door from the surgery in the back opening, and their new pup entering, followed by Dr. Jones holding a lead for him. “Look who couldn’t wait to see you this morning!” the vet greeted cheerfully, beaming at mother and son both before unclipping the lead and allowing the small dog to trot disjointedly right for Henry, who dropped to his knees with open arms to meet him.
Granted, the dog was not untouched by the ordeal he had weathered the day before. The fur on one rear flank was shaved where Dr. Jones had made the incision for surgery, and his back leg was completely encased in a cast. His gait as he moved across the room was limping and uneven, but not truly slowing him down. Emma couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face at the sight of the little guy’s tongue lolling and his tail wagging as he nuzzled into Henry’s affectionate touch. Clearly, he was glad to see them, not trembling, snarling, or pulling away, nor giving any indication that he associated them at all with his recent trauma.
Moving toward the doctor, who had followed his four-legged patient to stand before them and was beaming down at the heartwarming scene the boy and dog made together, Emma looked up into Killian Jones’ eyes intently. Once they were face-to-face, she hoped that her sincerity would be made manifest. “Wow, he looks like he’s doing great. I don’t even know how to thank you properly. Henry - and I - are just relieved to see he’s okay.”
Dr. Jones dipped his head in a quick nod of acknowledgement and returned her gaze with a fervent intensity that was hard to ignore. “Aye, it’s amazing how resilient animals are when given a fair chance, and I believe this guy to be quite young as well - in all probability less than a year - which will aid him in mending as well. With proper feeding, care, and a safe place to live, he’ll be better off than he was before this happened to him, all told. There are some care instructions we should go over, of course, and I’ll want to check on him at intervals until he is fully healed, but I don’t anticipate any lasting issues.”
Emma thanked him again, knowing that a huge grin was splitting her face, even as her cheeks warmed at the absurdity of the whole encounter. The last 24 hours had tossed everything up in the air, and she felt unsettled but also strangely giddy at the same time. When Henry’s enthusiastic thanks were added to her own, and even a couple of yips from their new pet, she was soon laughing, and joined easily by TL and Killian.
Henry’s brow scrunched curiously once more at their humor, asking, “What’s so funny?”
But Emma could only shake her head slightly at him before shrugging her shoulders and finally admitting, “I don’t really know, Kid.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders before shooting a half smile back at the nurse and doctor, before beaming down at her son. “I guess I’m just relieved… and happy. This has been a surprise, but a good one, right?”
“Right!” he echoed enthusiastically.
Everyone chuckled again, and the boy returned his attention to his dog as Killian went over care instructions with her, TL scheduled a follow-up appointment, and Emma settled the bill. Before she knew it, they were ready to leave and take their third family member to his new home. At the door, Killian opened it gallantly for them, bowing playfully to Henry and wishing his furry patient well, then leaning in as Emma passed by, making her pause in the doorway, drawn to his warmth and causing the breath to jam up in her lungs. The air he exhaled with quietly murmured words at her ear ruffled the fine hairs that framed her face, tickling pleasantly. “If the little guy - or you yourself, Lass - need anything before his scheduled visit, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Emma nodded jerkily, a breathy exhale of her own barely escaping her throat.
“I am at your service, night or day,” he added, the timbre of his voice with that assurance sent shivers down her arms and legs even as he straightened back up quickly and gave her room to exit.
Blinking as she followed Henry and their dog across the parking lot to their car, Emma reflected that it might be a challenge not to call him before she had even left the premises.
~~ 🐾 ~~
In the wee hours of the morning, three a.m. to be exact, a mere two days later, was not when Emma had intended to use the number Dr. Jones had slipped her with such promising intent. But Henry’s worried eyes as he’d woken her, and the way her hands shook as she tried to get their pup - now christened ‘Cocoa’ - to drink and felt how hot and dry his normally cold, wet nose was, had her dialing in sheer desperation. It had seemed their pet was healing just fine, but now she feared this fever or infection that had woken them all, and she wasn’t sure how to bring it down and help him.
The phone rang twice, then three times, as Emma bit her lip and shuffled her feet anxiously, embarrassed to be bothering Dr. Jones in the middle of the night - or early morning, however one chose to look at it. On the fourth ring, there was finally the sound of a fumbling pick up on the other end of the line, and a low, groggy voice hoarse with sleep asking, “Hello?”
The unguarded intimacy of the simple response, hearing his voice before Jones was fully alert and aware, made Emma’s insides flip, unable to stop herself from imagining how it would sound whispering at her side as they curled together under covers. Her cheeks flushed unseen, and she pressed her hands to the heat, even as she stood alone at her kitchen counter.
Swallowing hard, Emma forced herself to blink away the shadowy vision, pleasant as it was, and refocus on why she had called him. “Dr. Jones? I’m so sorry to call you in the middle of the night…” she started hesitantly, “but this is Emma Swan… who brought in the stray dog a few days ago? …I know we must be waking you, and you’re well within your right to tell me to call back at a decent hour, but… Henry just woke me, and we’re worried about Cocoa, the pup. He seems like he has an awful fever…”
She paused, uncertain what else to say, and wondering if it had been silly to call the vet, now that she heard how simple the concern sounded out loud. Mercifully, Killian Jones took over then, wakefulness entering his voice, even over the telephone wire.
“No, no, please don’t worry over the time, Swan.” Her heart fluttered at his use of her surname, both familiar and comfortingly natural in a way she didn’t fully understand. “I told you that I would be available day or night, did I not? And I meant it. We wouldn’t want poor Cocoa suffering longer than he has to.”
Emma released the anxious breath she had been holding tight while awaiting his response. “Thank you so much,” she breathed. Seeing that Henry had padded out from his room, cradling Cocoa and placing him on the couch where he sat stroking the dog’s silky head, she shot her son a reassuring smile and nod of encouragement as well. Quickly, she gave Killian their address, and he promised to be there as soon as possible.
While they waited, Emma crossed over to Henry and Cocoa on the couch and knelt beside them. “How’s he doing, Kid?” she asked Henry with a gentle press of his hand.
“I still don’t think he feels well,” Henry mumbled with a sniffle, unable to help the way his lower lip trembled as he gladly squeezed his mom’s hand right back.
Emma didn’t know much about caring for sick animals, but she did reach out to scritch lightly behind the puppy’s ears the way he usually liked, then pressed her lips into a thin line with a concerned intake of breath at the warm, dry sensation she once again noticed when his nose pressed into her palm. It was usually a cool, wet nuzzle that made her squirm away in giggles. “Dr. Jones said he was glad we called and that he was on his way,” Emma told Henry needlessly, simply for lack of any better words to offer.
Henry nodded dutifully and leaned over to rest against her shoulder, as they waited in silence.
Dr. Jones was as good as his word, though, and it wasn’t much more than twenty minutes before they heard a knocking on the front door, followed by the sound of him calling out to announce himself.
Emma stood from where she had crouched on the floor by her boys and hurried toward the door to let him in. The man had been good enough to hurry to their aid in the wee hours of the morning; the last thing she intended to do was leave him standing on the porch, open to the avid curiosity of any nosey neighbors who might be awake. She quickly swung the door open and motioned Killian Jones into their home with a grateful smile.
Killian smiled back, his breath escaping in a puff of chill morning air as he greeted her. They didn’t linger to let the cool breeze slip through; Emma instead closed the door behind him and gestured for Killian to follow her through the small but cozy entryway, kitchen, and into the living room, where Henry and Cocoa were waiting. She thanked him again for coming out - late hour and all - as they walked, but he kindly deflected her praise, humbly asserting it was only as he ought to do for his patient.
As she had found herself often since meeting him, Emma was taken aback, struck nearly speechless by his charming manner, his kindness, and his unassuming, but nonetheless heroic, care for those he came in contact with - whether human or defenseless animal with no other voice to speak up for itself. He was more than too-good-to-be-true, and since she didn’t know what to do with that, or how to express the muddle he made of her, she merely announced his present to Henry, who looked up in greeting with relief evident on his young face.
Killian crouched beside them, much as she had done not long before, talking calmly to Henry, and also murmuring soothingly to Cocoa as he began to check the dog over. Emma stood to the side, merely watching with equal parts awe and admiration as he put both boy and dog at ease.
He was thorough and attentive, but it still didn’t take long before he moved from his crouch on the floor to the chair nearby, positioning himself so he could look between Emma and Henry more easily and explain his findings to them both. “You were right to call and have our little guy checked out,” he began. “It always pays to be safe and make certain if something doesn’t seem normal with your pet. The good news is, I think this is just a slight fever from some post-op inflammation. It isn’t uncommon after surgery, and it usually clears up within a day or so. We’ll keep an eye on him to be certain, and I’ll give Cocoa a shot of some antibiotics for good measure. He should be back to his usual self before we know it, just make sure he gets plenty of fresh, cool water and that you let him rest as much as he needs until he can fight it off.”
“That’s all it is?” Henry queried, looking as if he needed to make completely sure with one more guarantee. “And then he’ll be fine?”
“Yes, he will,” Killian reiterated, not at all put off by Henry’s questioning or need for reassurance. “Cocoa should be up and running circles about the place again in no time.”
Internally, Emma forced herself to relax for once, simply trust a man at his word, and not to worry over his giving her son the certainty of a promise. By now, Killian had more than shown he knew what he was talking about as a veterinarian. Once Henry had offered his beaming and enthusiastic thanks, he turned his attention back to his pet, stroking Cocoa’s curly, soft ears quietly and speaking the same assurances he had just been given to his four-legged best friend.
Emma turned to Killian with warmly relieved gratitude of her own. “Thank you,” she stated simply, but with a wealth of feeling behind the words. “He would have been crushed if it were something worse, or if you hadn’t been able to help.”
Killian’s response came out in a lower register and more gravelly timbre than Emma had heard before, making her tremble somehow at his, “It was my pleasure, Swan. I’m only glad it was something I could deal with simply.”
She nodded her understanding wordlessly, hardly trusting her voice not to quiver, and they sat in comfortable silence for several moments, just smiling at one another. Somewhere in the midst of Killian’s explanation and Henry’s thanks and turning back to his pup, Emma had dropped onto the couch nearer to Killian from where she had been hovering nearby. Now, she startled to look down and realize just how close their hands were. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation, a delicious warmth radiating from him and magnifying her awareness - despite their not having made physical contact. Finally, she gathered her courage and inched her hand over just enough for her fingers to brush against his.
To his credit, Killian Jones didn’t hesitate once she breached the divide. He gathered her tentative fingers in his own and squeezed fervently, twining them hand-in-hand and making Emma’s stomach swoop and her heart pound wildly against the cage of her chest. They were merely holding hands, and yet the pleasing sensation was more than enough for her in that moment. Warmth flushed her body, and she scooted just that little bit closer, returning the pressure of his fingers with her own grip.
Perfectly content, they settled in, making themselves cozy while they watched over Henry and Cocoa snuggled in together, once more fast asleep. Emma could only think how very right it felt as Killian tucked her into his side, his chin resting against the crown of her head as he pulled her close. She may not have known this man long, but her home already felt more complete and whole with the addition of his presence… as if he had always belonged with them.
And when he woke the next morning, still curled next to her on the couch, sunlight streaming through the living room windows and lighting up Emma’s halo of blond hair as she slept on, Killian knew he might well be another stray who had at long last found a home.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @xarandomdreamx @jonesfandomfanatic
CSSS25 Story: "Next Year All Our Troubles Will be Out of Sight" ~ Chapter One
This is RIDICULOUSLY overdue, and I won't even try to make promises for the next chapter. It is started, and I'd love to say that I'll have it completed before the month ends, but I don't think I should promise that. I am so grateful to have been part of @cssecretsanta2020 and the kind patience my giftee @cocohook38 has shown as she has waited for the next installment of her gift. (I hope that you will like this and forgive the emotional angst.)
If you need a refresher, the Prologue of this story can be found HERE, or HERE on AO3.
It also has some cover art now:
Summary: Tragedy brings Killian Jones into Emma Swan and her son Henry's lives, but at first she may be too closed off to accept the help he wishes to offer. Much stands in the way, but her son's belief, a stubborn, caring man, and perhaps just a pinch of healing Christmas magic, may help them all muddle through into a brighter New Year.
Part One: Blue Christmas Without You
Emma felt the bile rising in her throat as she remembered her unfeeling words, her harsh demeanor towards Graham on the phone, when, mere hours later, she was dashing disheveled and frantic through the admitting doors of the emergency room. She’d received a call as Graham Hunter’s next of kin, warning her that there had been an accident and that they would suggest she hurry. The other details blurred together as she dropped the phone in shock, fumbling for it again with shaking fingers to disconnect the call, then struggling to grasp her keys tightly with one hand, Henry with the other, and race out the door - one goal on her mind, to get there before it was too late.
The outdoor lights, festooned in blinking multicolored lines around the edges of rooftops or swathed haphazardly over trees and bushes, swam hazily together while she drove with a film of tears collected in her eyes. What had she been thinking, being so cold, so unrelenting, and ending their conversation the way she had? Had her cold words still been on his mind? Had he been in such a hurry to get back home that he’d run the light and into oncoming traffic?
As she neared the nurses’ station admitting desk, still tugging a sleepy and confused Henry along at her side, Emma struggled to regain some semblance of calm and control to shake both the heavy weight of guilt and the sickening images of what might have happened from the forefront of her mind. Swallowing hard, she forced a calm normalcy to her tone and words as she asked after Graham Hunter, stating that she had been notified as his emergency contact and was his partner.
The nurse looked at her for what seemed an agonizing length of time - thought perhaps only seconds in reality - then directed her to the intensive care unit. Promising that once they found the right place to wait, she would stop and explain all this to him, Emma urged her son just a bit further, biting back the extra kick of terror spiking through her bloodstream at the need for Graham to be in the ICU.
Sooner than expected, they had turned a corner, passed through some sliding glass doors, and into the quieter region of the intensive care unit’s waiting area. Offering Henry a smile that she could only hope was more convincing in its comfort than she actually felt, Emma led him to sit in two chairs off to one side near a potted plant and an end table overflowing with magazines and day-old newspapers. After the controlled chaos, it made her shoulders relax just a fraction, even as she prepared to explain what they were doing there.
“It’s Papa Graham, isn’t it?” Henry blurted, once they had settled down, his eyes wide and worried, his lower lip quivering. “Is he hurt badly? Is he going to be alright?”
Emma’s mouth snapped closed again, surprised and not sure how to respond. Sometimes she still tended to forget just how observant and intelligent Henry was, not just for a boy of eight, but for anyone. He saw and understood more than most adults took the time and effort to do. Smoothing his shaggy brown bangs off his forehead, Emma tried to give him a brave smile, even as she felt it wobble at the corners. Nodding to his voiced concern, she finally managed to answer as best she could. “Well, bud, I don’t know all the details yet, but it seems he had an accident on his way home to us. We’re just going to have to hope he’ll pull through and be alright, but - ” Here she had to pull in a gulp of air to continue raggedly, “ - he must be hurt pretty badly for them to have him in this unit of the hospital.”
Henry nodded solemnly, her sweet little boy who cared so much and had already been so brave and true so often in his young life. His eyes were wide and obviously worried, but he didn’t cry or pepper her with more questions; instead, he reached out for her hand - clearly needing the grounding contact to hold onto every bit as much as she did. Leaning his head against her shoulder, the two of them settled in quietly to wait.
It had been perhaps an hour, maybe two; the time was starting to stretch unrecognizably as Emma waited for word and stewed in her own regret. Henry had dozed off, and she had maneuvered his feet up onto another empty seat and his head to her lap to rest more comfortably, and that was the only thing keeping her from pacing the small, stark room like a caged animal in nervous anxiety. When someone else entered the room quietly, hands in pockets, head down, and crossed to sit against the opposite wall, Emma was startled into staring at the man blatantly, blinking at the reminder that she and Henry weren’t in their own little world, but that the hospital and all inside it still hummed around them, impervious to the personal island of fear upon which she had landed in her mind.
The gentleman facing them was kind - or discreet - enough not to call attention to or embarrass her for her staring, though he must have felt the weight of her eyes upon him. Despite her worry and fear, her restless unease, Emma couldn’t help studying the only other person in the room - if only for a few moments. He was objectively handsome - there was no denying that, even if she were far from registering true interest. The thick, dark hair, the crystal-blue eyes that flashed across the room at her when he glanced up from the small, leatherbound book in his hands, and the half smile which crooked adorably and put a dimple in his cheek when he shot it towards her quickly from beneath dark lashes; all were virtual catnip to anyone with eyes. She wasn’t far gone enough to miss that. Flushing, she ducked her head, checking to see that Henry was still resting comfortably, trying to busy herself and not have to look back after having been caught out.
A few tensely awkward moments passed with the silence in the air of the waiting room hanging heavily, before the man cleared his throat and spoke to break the tension. “Hello there, Lass. Apologies for being forward, but it seems we may both be here for the long haul this evening. Should we introduce ourselves? I’m Dr. Killian Jones, hospital psychologist.” He extended his right hand to her across the small space, and to her own surprise, Emma found herself spanning the distance to take it, and answering him warmly, regardless of her usual reserve, to introduce herself and her sleeping son.
“My name is Emma Swan. I don’t work here. My - my partner was in an accident earlier this evening, and we - we’re waiting for word…” She couldn’t really bring much else from her rapidly closing throat, so she pulled her hand back, nervously interlocking and unlocking her fingers in her lap and once more avoiding his gaze. When she finally looked up again, this Dr. Jones hadn’t moved; he only watched her quietly, the look on his face telegraphing a deep empathy that needed no words, yet made her feel warmed somehow with the clear knowledge that he wished to help if there was anything he could do.
‘Of course he’s watching you,’ her guarded nature hissed meanly. ‘He’s a shrink, and he’s already trying to get inside your head.’ Suddenly skittish, Emma tried a fleeting smile, anxious not to give away more than she already had. After growing up in the foster system - in and out of group homes and the homes of prospective families that hadn’t worked out - Emma had known numerous case workers, therapists, and other mental health professionals since she was much younger than Henry, and while they had been mostly well-intentioned, she had been left with a lingering doubt of their practical helpfulness.
“And this is my son, Henry,” she tacked on awkwardly, with a gesture toward the sleeping form stretched out beside her. “He’s had a long day, as you can see.”
Killian Jones merely nodded kindly, acknowledging her words but not pressing for details or further conversation, unless she initiated it, for which Emma was grateful. She could feel herself fraying at the edges, seeming to come apart even as she tried to hold herself together. After the anger and disappointment, the tension and worry, and now the interminable waiting and not knowing, she just needed to sit still and try not to think at all if she could manage it.
“Well,” he spoke again, gentle and low in the still waiting room, “it’s nice to meet you, Emma Swan… though I wish it weren’t under such painful circumstances. Here’s hoping you receive some good news soon.”
Emma looked across the small space at him, trying to measure his sincerity. She couldn’t help the only half-teasing barb that slipped out before she could stop it. “Trolling for new patients, are you, Dr. Jones?”
He jerked back abruptly at her mistrustful assumption, then drew in a steadying breath and shook his head. “Hardly, Lass. I merely wanted to wish you well. I am on call tonight, it’s true, but I wasn’t trying to force you into any admissions. Fact is, the holidays are a hard time for many people - even without unforeseen circumstances. I was simply hoping to be where my presence might be needed.”
Emma dipped her head quickly, biting her lower lip and wishing she could take back the unguarded words she’d unleashed. “I’m sorry,” she offered meekly. “That was uncalled for, especially when you’ve been nothing but kind.” Chancing a swift glance back up, she offered a tentative smile. “Truce?”
“Aye, of course,” Dr. Killian Jones accepted easily. “Truce.”
They settled into a comfortable silence then, punctuated only by occasional calls over the loudspeaker, the squeaks of sneakers on the linoleum floor of the hallway nearby, or the distant wail of ambulance sirens and the beeping of machines in other rooms more close at hand. Emma wouldn’t have called it relaxed by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at least comfortable between them. In fact, it was calm and peaceful enough that Henry was still resting when a white-coated doctor entered somberly, the grim look on her face making Emma sit up straight and her heart pound wildly, leaping into her throat as the doctor came to stand before her.
“Ms. Swan?” the older woman asked. Deep lines etched around tired eyes made the stress the capable-looking professional had been under all too clear.
Emma carefully eased Henry’s feet from her lap and onto the chair behind her as she stood to face the news she needed, but had also been dreading. “Yes,” she nodded shortly, “I am Emma Swan. You have news about Graham Hunter?”
“I do,” the doctor responded, her voice clipped and terse and causing Emma to tense a bit more with each syllable. When she continued, Emma knew even before the pronouncement was made that this was the sort of nightmare moment which would remain cemented in the recesses of her mind for the rest of her life. “Mr. Hunter was brought in with a thready pulse and other signs of a cardiac event, likely brought on by shock and impact from his vehicle being struck. The resultant chaos and damage made it hard to remove him from the wreckage and he was weakened even further. He fought hard, but never fully regained consciousness. His injuries were simply too severe. Mr. Hunter coded, and it was too much for his failing system to withstand. I’m sorry, Ms. Swan, but we couldn’t save him. He’s gone.”
Emma nodded, blindly trying to indicate that she understood, and yet at the same time, she was unable to process the words. Though she had feared ever since the hospital’s call that this would be the outcome, it seemed now like she was moving through a thick, obscuring fog, unwilling to comprehend that he was truly gone. That he wouldn’t know how sorry she was for her earlier harsh words, that he’d never again ruffle Henry’s hair, or give her that sweet boyish smile that had long since won her over and levelled her defenses. It just couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t right or fair. Graham didn’t deserve this, to be cut down so swiftly and violently - gone in an instant.
She bareely registered the doctor’s offer of a few more conciliating words, or even that the woman had moved away, shooting a meaningful glance toward the psychologist as she did so. There was too much happening at once. Her knees wobbled, sheer will keeping her upright. Her stomach lurched, and she needed space - air - desperately. It felt as though the room was closing in, and she had to get out, to run somewhere - anywhere - else. But her eyes lit desperately on Henry, still lying in blissful ignorance. She couldn’t leave him.
That was when, just as she began to gulp frantic mouthfuls of air, she felt a steadying hand on her upper arm, the warm pressure grounding her for a moment in surroundings that whirled madly about her.
“Lass?... Ms. Swan?… Emma?” the gently lilting voice coaxed. “Slow down a moment, aye? Take a deep breath.”
Where she might have bristled at such instruction in normal circumstances, Emma was so desperate to breathe and right herself in that moment that she merely did as Killian Jones instructed, realizing belatedly that he had risen from his seat and come to stand at her side to offer aid. “That’s it,” he continued soothingly, the low voice almost a croon, and something to follow in the bleak darkness that had nearly engulfed her. “Now another…”
Doing as instructed, without thinking any further than the next breath in, then out again, Emma finally felt a bit less lightheaded, a shaky sort of equilibrium reestablishing itself as she was able to draw enough air into her lungs once more. She managed to stand straight after a few more moments, and - if not exactly capable of a reassuring smile - she was able to meet her waiting room companion’s eyes and nod her thanks, hopefully showing him that she was at least no longer in danger of immediate collapse.
Neither of them spoke for several long minutes as Emma focused on breathing and watching her son sleep, while dreading his waking up to learn their lives as a family were forever changed. To his credit, Dr. Killian Jones didn’t push, didn’t offer empty words of comfort; didn’t speak at all, in fact, or try to force it from her, but he lingered at her side, his presence there if she needed him.
When, a few minutes later, an orderly came to show her to where Graham was - to see him once more and offer her goodbyes if she wished, and to receive the effects found in his car, Emma felt the tremulous grasp on reality she had gathered begin to waver. Straightening her shoulders, she forced herself to hold her shield together. She turned to Killian Jones, not someone she knew well - an hour ago, he had been a stranger - and yet, after the rollercoaster she was still careening through, she also felt as bonded to him as anyone else in the world, now that Graham was gone. He worked for the hospital too, and he couldn’t really do anything shady at his place of work. Beyond that, Emma just sensed she could trust him. She had no other options, at any rate. Chewing on her lower lip worriedly, she asked, nodding at Henry with a hopeful glance, “Would you mind…?”
“Of course I’ll stay with your lad,” the dark-headed gentleman assured her, before she could even get the rest of her question haltingly asked. “I won’t take my eyes off him for a second. You do what you must.” Should it sound like a duty he took so fervently to heart? Emma wondered, something she didn’t have time to decipher fluttering through her chest and settling in her stomach.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper sincerely, grasping his hand for a moment. There weren’t adequate words to convey that she was entrusting him with priceless treasure, that Henry was all she had in the world now, that she didn’t usually trust anyone with her son - and yet she was trusting him… and despite the inability to voice any of it, she sensed Dr. Jones already understood. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she rasped hoarsely, then turned on her heel to follow the orderly quickly from the room.
Left alone with the slumbering youth, Killian couldn’t help feeling a bit of nervous energy. If the young man woke in a strange place, with only someone he didn’t know nearby, he could be frightened and things might become more than a little awkward. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his offer to Ms. Swan - even if it might mean his own discomfort. The conflict in her eyes as she’d tried to decide how to care for her son and also say her farewell to the man she had clearly loved had called to him as plainly as any siren song. If he wasn’t mistaken, though, he had glimpsed something else beside the hurt and worry lodged deep in her expression. He couldn’t fathom why, but it read as self-recrimination, even…guilt?
His mind had wandered down the hall after the woman who had captivated his attention, his curiosity, and his sympathy, wishing her strength for what she was facing, when her lad - Henry, he reminded himself - began to stir. Killian could see the confusion settle in as bleary brown eyes blinked open and looked around the room uncertainly, obviously seeking his mother, or at least something familiar. When that didn’t happen, his gaze came to rest on Killian, his little brow furrowing with curiosity as he mumbled, “Who are you?”
“Hello there, Master Henry,” Killian answered calmly, giving a small nod and what he hoped would come across as a reassuring smile. “My name is Killian Jones. I work as a psychologist here at the hospital. Your mum and I had just been getting to know each other when she was called away for a moment. She asked if I would stay with you, since you were asleep.” He waiting, almost holding his breath in the hope that the boy wouldn’t ask too much more about what they had needed his mother to do. That was not the sort of news that should be broken by a stranger - even one who was a professional counselor.
Young Henry Swan surprised him, however, a mischievous sparkle lighting his eyes when he smiled crookedly and asked, “Why do you sound funny? And no one’s ever called me ‘Master Henry’ before. What does that mean?”
Genuine humor laced the chuckle that escaped from Killian’s chest, even in the midst of the stark and sobering surroundings. The boy’s frank manner and open curiosity were bracing somehow, and it allowed the man to simply answer those queries rather than worry about the ones that might follow. Offering another half smile, he replied, “Well, I suppose the answer to both is that I am originally from the United Kingdom and a few of the more formal terms of address, and my accent as well, have never fully left me.”
Henry nodded at this sagely, looking for all the world like some student mulling over an intriguing new formula rather than the youngster he was. This was their first conversation, but Killian could already see the youth’s thoughtful intelligence as he mulled the answer over.
“What brought you to America then?” was the next inquiry, one that Killian hoped he masked the stab of painful memory by which it was accompanied. “I mean, don’t people always want to travel over there? You were there already, so why’d you leave?”
Killian breathed out a long sigh and scratched behind his ear, not sure exactly how in-depth this conversation ought to become. Henry might be quite obviously precocious, but they had just met, and he was still a child, despite his startlingly mature behavior. And yet, he wasn’t about to withhold from or mislead the boy. Seeing as he was the hospital’s psychologist, the young man was about to learn he had suffered a devastating loss, and he might well be seeing Killian professionally at least once before all was said and done, it seemed best to start on honest footing. “Let’s just say,” he finally settled on as a response, “that I made a rather foolish choice in love when I was younger. It led to quite painful disappointment and bitterness on my part. I was looking for a change and a fresh start when this job offering came my way. It took it, crossed the pond, and found I rather like it here.”
Henry nodded again, seemingly drinking in every word. “That’s good,” he stated succinctly, his dark head bobbing with a certain affirmation. “You’ve found something you enjoy and a place where you’re happy. Mom says that’s hard to find, but the best thing you can have when you do.”
Killian feels the curiosity those words prompt within, already much more intrigued by the lad’s mother than he has any right to be. “It sounds as though she knows a bit about such things,” he notes. “Those are indeed wise words.”
Henry shrugs his shoulders as if growing a bit impatient with such heavy conversation, some of which must go over his head at such a young age, but then he knocks Killian flat with his astuteness again. “I don’t think she’s quite found her place yet,” he observed matter-of-factly. “She’s always saying, ‘We’re almost there, kiddo’ …whatever that means.”
Killian has to fight the urge both to reach out and ruffle the brown hair affectionately at that - too familiar and not his place, his inner voice chides - and not to wince in painful recognition that part of the near-happy belonging Ms. Emma Swan had spoken of to her boy must have been at least partially due to the man who has just died. He manages to simply nod at the boy’s words, letting him steer their conversation and merely listening for the moment. As the boy tells him about the story he is writing for his school English class, how his mom is a tough and smart private investigator, and how his mom’s partner is teaching him to ice skate on the frozen pond behind their apartment complex, and how the both of them are trying to convince Emma they should move out of the city, maybe near some woods and some open land, and definitely get a dog. Killian finds that any earlier awkwardness he felt at staying with the lad has dissipated completely. If only he didn’t know the hurt that is about to descend on such a happy outlook…
Both man and boy have fallen quiet for a few minutes when a flurry of motion, and then the clatter of items falling to the floor as someone backs into the cart outside a room, startles them and grabs their attention. Killian has just gathered that the careening figure clutching a small canvas bag with the hospital’s logo in a white-knuckled grip is Emma Swan, before she has shot one wild look around and bolted down the hall. It is still too late to keep her tormented eyes and tear-stained cheeks from searing their impression on his memory.
He turns to look down into Henry Swan’s concerned face; the boy had stood at the sight of his mother in distress, just as Killian had done. The lad holds his tongue, but the anxious look in his cocoa-colored eyes asks all too clearly, ‘Is she alright?’
Killian speaks gently, praying his words are soothing enough to provide what comfort is possible. “I am sure she will be alright, Lad… given time. But… perhaps we should go to her?”
Henry nods firmly, just once, and moves forward right at Killian’s side as he begins to follow the path they had seen her take moments before. When, a few seconds later, the boy takes his hand, clinging to it in his uncertainty, Killian’s heart lurches with tenderness, and the desire to shield Henry from what cannot be avoided. He merely returns the press of small fingers with a squeeze of his own, and they carry on.
~~*~~
Emma, meanwhile, clasping Graham’s few possessions that had been on him at the time of his accident, was merely seeking sanctuary. She had to find a place away from sympathetic eyes, and bleating machines, and the sight of Graham’s beloved face ashen and cold; those eyes that used to light up whenever he could make her laugh, permanently closed in death. She shouldn’t have said she wanted to see, to offer her farewell in person, her mind repeated incessantly, pounding against her forehead. That horrible final image was there now, threatening to replace all the warm, happy ones that had come before. If she could just find somewhere to hide for a moment, somewhere quiet and secluded where she could maybe, somehow, recover her strength before she had to figure out how to break this to Henry… and how they were going to get through.
Thankfully, she saw an open door up ahead on her right - lit, but dimly, and without the sounds of anyone else inside. She stumbled in, only to discover herself in a chapel of some sort, benches on either side of a short aisle down to the front of the room, where candles flickered on a short table with a wooden cross in their midst. She noticed a few poinsettias scattered about tastefully on various surfaces, and strings of white lights wound about the handrails along the outer walls up the outside edges of the two rows of benches, giving off a further muted glow. By the time her eyes registered the evergreen wreath on the door through which she had just entered, Emma wanted to tear it all down with her bare hands and scream in wounded frustration. Why were they already decorated for Christmas?! It was the night before Thanksgiving! Clearly, the holidays were hardly some magical cure-all; people wouldn’t have to be seeking refuge in a hospital’s chapel if they were. Horrible things still happened to people all the time, whatever the date on the calendar. She and Graham had both been proof of that, though they had tried so hard to make the reality different for Henry.
And now, just when they had dared to hope, the Universe, Fate, whatever a person wanted to call it, had leveled everything good she had built… again. Sinking into the thinly cushioned seat of the very last row, Emma lowered her head, unable to think much beyond the echoing ‘Why?’ inside her head. Her shoulders shook noiselessly, but it seemed that for the moment her tears had dried. Sitting in that dim, haunting stillness, Emma tried to gather the fragments of her emotional armor back around herself. In all the years of neglected, lonely holidays, of times she had been unwanted, forgotten, hungry, or cold, none of that could have prepared her for this - the loss of someone who had known the pain and understood, who had been calmly, steadfastly, patiently attempting to show her they could build something else, together. It was more crippling than all the other injustices, all at once, and she cursed herself just that little bit more for allowing the old dream a flicker of life. Now she couldn’t wake from the aftermath, and she didn’t know where to go from here.
Summary: Drabbles for the 6th anniversary CS discord
***
Week 1 - Canon Compliant: After Emma leaves Killian handcuffed at the top of the beanstalk, what is his internal monologue as he watches her leave, and how does he eventually free himself?
Week 2 - Canon Compliant: Killian’s internal monologue at the docks as he prepares to trade the Jolly Roger—his home for 300 years—for a magic bean to find Emma.
Rating: G
Week 1
Read on AO3
***
He needed a magic bean. Blackbeard was the only one who had one. And there was only one thing Blackbeard would accept as a trade for it.
When that connection was made in Killian's mind, he was surprised to find that he didn't feel any desperation rise up in him or the need to find a different way.
If there was a different way, it would take too long.
Another curse was coming and Killian needed to be out of this realm before it hit.
Killian Jones, infamous Captain Hook, terror of the seas and man who defied death countless times in search of revenge, was going to trade his ship, the Jolly Roger, for a magic bean.
All so he could go to a realm without magic and bring Emma back home.
He was giving up his home to ensure Emma Swan could return to hers.
Not for a second did he doubt this decision he was about to make.
That didn't mean he could say goodbye to his ship.
This ship that had borne witness to many of Killian's dark days.
Liam dying in arms. Sleepless nights in the bed right across from that space of his brother's death. Days when Milah would lie in that same bed and shy away from his touch as she wallowed in her own guilt. And then her death as her heart was crushed in front of his eyes, with it feeling like his own heart died alongside her.
Yet, in spite of the pain and grief that haunted every corner of this ship, it was still his home. And he loved this ship.
But then Emma...
Gods, he must truly be a damned fool if he was going to go through with this.
Trading his ship for a magic bean. All to bring back the woman who had left him chained at the top of the beanstalk, who he had trapped in a cell that once held the Dark One, who he had seen dive headfirst into danger on Neverland to save the child she had once abandoned, who had kissed him on that damned island and awoken things in him he thought were long dead, yet said it was a one-time thing.
Who when he said that not a day would go by that he would not think of her, had given him the ghost of a smile and tears in her eyes as she told him good.
Killian stood from his seat on the bed and moved to stand in front of the small hanging mirror on the wall. He stared at his reflection and said, "You're a damned fool, Killian Jones."
He didn't look back as he walked out of his cabin. There wasn't anything he needed to grab or didn't want to leave behind.
Killian would make this trade, all to find the woman he began to think of when he heard the word 'home.'
Between Waking Life and Our Dreams: Book 3 - Emma: Chapter 1 (17/?)
Summary: Henry let out a deep breath, turning up the volume a little bit and tried even harder to sleep.
That’s what must have happened because when he opened his eyes again, the car had come to a stop. They were off the highway, on a small road out in the middle of nowhere and Henry blinked, trying to see more in the darkness of night.
But the only thing he could see was his mom and Killian, standing outside in front of the headlights, surrounded by a forest in the background.
It looked like they were arguing.
Henry almost got out, but then something strange happened.
Emma, his mom, who always carried so much tension in her shoulders, never let down her guard, never let anyone see her cry, began crying.
That wasn’t the strange thing though.
It was when Killian pulled her into a hug.
***
Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line.
A/N: A new chapter! This chapter was reaching almost 10k before edits so I had to find the best place to cut the chapter. I almost cut it off at a horrible cliff hanger, but I decided to be nice and make the cliff hanger not too bad, lol.
But! Since I cut so much from this chapter, that means the next chapter is almost ready to go! Hopefully it won't be such a long wait again for the next update.
As always, I'm so happy for all the support this fic gets! Thank you always for the kudos and comments, and I really do hope you enjoy this next chapter my dears!
***
Emma checked the time at the bottom of her computer screen. Killian had been gone for almost two hours now. He said that it was just going to be a quick errand. Something he needed to pick up at some shop.
She asked him for more details, but he just gave her a smile, a quick peck on her lips, and said he'd let her know once he came back.
It wasn't a lie, but she could still feel something off with his answer. That he was trying to hide something from her.
The only reason why she didn't pester him at that moment for the complete truth was because she was hiding something from him too. Had been for a few weeks now actually.
She focused back on her work, wanting to finish this case before Henry's spring break that was coming up fast. She planned on taking the week off, knew Peter would give Killian the week off as soon as a he asked, and even toyed with the idea of the three of them going out of town.
Opening a new tab in her web browser, she quickly checked how much tickets were to Disney World. Emma didn't bother hiding her grin as she thought of how much fun that would be with Killian.
Realistically, Emma knew they wouldn't actually go. A quick check of the ticket prices confirmed her suspicion of it being way too much money. That wasn't even considering hotels, meals, transportation, and a plane ticket to Florida.
But thinking about it more, maybe they really could get away. Go to some beach or something. Hell, she might even try and convince Killian to go somewhere completely landlocked instead.
Taking a vacation like this might be the last time they'd be able to before the baby came.
The thought brought Emma's hand to rest on her small bump. She was happy about the pregnancy. She really was, after getting over the initial shock of it and the accompanying fear.
Well, if she was completely honest with herself, there was still some lingering fear. Not about whether or not she'd traumatize the kid like she had with Henry or if Killian would stick around. This child would have a completely different childhood, and this would be a chance for both of them to do things right. This child would never for a moment doubt that they were loved and always wanted.
No, her fears revolved around her family and the pull of magic that was starting to feel stronger by the day.
Especially after what happened a few weeks ago.
She had tracked down one of her missing persons to a ritzy hotel in Uptown. Because of course this guy that skipped bail would decide to go to a hotel and blow the rest of his money.
She hadn't done a honeypot but did pretend like she was part of the staff at the bar downstairs. He was there, tongue loose after having a few drinks, thinking he had gotten away with things, and Emma was so close to actually arresting him.
But then he just had to say the stupidest thing Emma had ever heard in her life.
"You know, I thought about it, and you've got probably one of the greatest asses I've ever seen. How about when you pop that thing out and it doesn't work out with the baby daddy, you come find me?" he said, as he leaned forward and held out a business card for her.
Emma saw red and held back her anger enough to not hit up across the face with the tray. Vaguely, she registered the surprised shouts of several people and the sudden flare of warmth. But she didn't pay it any mind as she pulled out his arrest warrant and slapped it down on the table. "Want to try that again?"
He ran, hotel security quickly stopped him and Emma had him arrested and in the hands of New York PD within ten minutes.
She headed back to the bar, already untying the apron she had borrowed from them and went to thank them. As she did, she noticed that the fireplace in the corner of the bar was out and a couple maintenance workers were looking at it.
"Did something happen?" she asked, giving the air a quick sniff to see if she could smell gas. When she had first come in, the fireplace had been on at a steady, low flame.
The bar tender gave her a quick look of surprise but then gave a small nod. "Right, you were busy with that piece of shit. Once you gave him his drink, the fire flared out of nowhere. Almost caught on to one of the tables close to it."
Emma frowned, feeling an unpleasant knot in her stomach as she looked at the fireplace. "Could just be something wrong with the gas line," she murmured.
He shook his head. "It's a wood fireplace. The strings the owner had to pull to get the city to agree to that."
The knot only tightened and she gave the bartender a quick smile and a thanks before leaving.
The rest of the day, that small incident had been on her mind. She hadn't seen it actually happened, but she just knew it happened the same moment her own anger flared. She convinced herself it was a coincidence, a freak accident.
That night though, after Henry had gone to bed and Killian went to work, Emma sat at the dining table with an unlit candle in front of her.
She continuously told herself it was ridiculous. That this was the realm with no magic and her own magic was gone.
But after five minutes of staring at the candle, the small wick caught fire.
Emma jumped, quickly blowing it out and hiding the candle afterwards.
She tried it a couple times afterwards. And each time, it took less and less for the wick to ignite.
At one point, she thought Killian had caught her. In fact, she had been so sure of it that she was already coming up with a hundred different excuses of what had happened.
But he only smiled at her and asked what she felt like having for lunch, placing a kiss on her cheek and resting his hand on her stomach.
She tried not to let the guilt get to her that day. Not only because she was attempting to hide her returning magic from him, but because she was hiding it.
This development should be something she was happy about. But it only reminded her that she didn't belong in this realm, not really. No matter that she grew up here, had made a life for herself in New York, this was not where she belonged.
She belonged in Storybrooke, where her parents were waiting for her to come back, Regina waiting for Henry.
And Killian...
She loved Killian. And if she ever made her way back to Storybrooke, her parents would have to accept that fact.
She loved him, and he loved her, and they were a family.
That was part of the problem though. Anytime Emma allowed her mind to think about Storybrooke, it was never when they found it. It was always if.
Killian hadn't brought it up too much. From the cold reception he got at his questions about it, he got the hint that bringing it up would only start an argument.
But with this baby on the way and her magic beginning to return...was it time to bring it up again?
Emma pushed her laptop aside, knowing her mind was too distracted to make any real progress on this new case. She reached for the candle at the center of the table.
The one she had been using to test her magic.
She stared at it for a minute or two before a small flame appeared. She blew out the candle, blinked, and it ignited again.
With just a blink of her eye.
Emma blew out a heavy breath as she leaned back in her chair and stared at the flame.
It wasn't that she didn't know what to do. She knew what her magic returning meant.
She was just afraid.
Afraid that after everything, Storybrooke still wouldn't be there. Or worse yet, that her parents would not accept the choices she had made during this time apart from them.
That rejection awaited her when she finally found Storybrooke.
And that wasn't even considering Henry. How mad would he be when he found out that she hid his entire life from him? This year and a half wasn't enough to make up for the time he spent with Regina.
When she pictured them returning, she always envisioned Henry walking away from her, going back to Regina, the woman who really did raise him.
She wondered if that was why Regina ended up not giving Henry happy memories. She wanted him to realize just how screwed up Emma's life had been, would have been still if she hadn't given him up.
Before she could give it anymore thought and end up in a spiral of despair, the front door opened. Emma straightened, looking up at a Killian with a smile on her face.
A smile that quickly fell when she saw the look on his face. "Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Hm? Oh, yes. No, of course, everything's just fine." He gave her a quick smile, then leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. "Henry not back yet?"
Emma shook her head. "No, he told me he was staying an hour later to finish up his paper. He's trying to get it done before Spring Break."
Killian nodded, but she could see he was distracted.
It worked out in her favor though, because it gave her enough time to bury down her own thoughts before he saw them and asked if she was okay.
Emma closed her laptop and followed him into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, lips pursed as he was no doubt thinking through dinner plans. She leaned against the counter, watching him. "Would it be so bad if I said I don't feel like eating your cooking tonight?"
Killian turned around, mouth dropped in slight horror. She grinned a little, seeing light back in his eyes again as she had his full attention. "Have you already gotten tired of my cooking? Love, I haven't even prepared you my specialty. Oyster soup."
Emma scrunched up her nose. "Hard pass. Baby's feeling like some Mexican tonight," she said as she pressed a hand to the bump she was still getting used to.
Killian raised a brow but smiled as he bent slightly. "Is that right?" he asked, speaking directly to her stomach. "Not even out of the womb yet, and complaining about Papa's cooking? That's bad form, lass."
Emma chuckled, running fingers through his hair as he stood. "Lass? We don't know if it's a boy or a girl."
He placed his hand and prosthesis on her waist. "Aye, but I have a good feeling about it."
Emma hummed, smiling as she pressed another kiss to his lips. "Well, then your daughter is really craving Mexican."
He met her kiss with another. "Then I suppose it's Mexican."
And at the thought of exactly what she would order, Emma felt a flutter in her stomach. One that wasn't from a muscle twitching or her stomach grumbling in hunger.
It was the baby.
Emma grabbed Killian's hand and pressed it to her stomach. "She moved," she said, unable to keep the breathless smile off her face.
It made this little life growing inside of her that much more real.
Killian's eyes widened, looking down to her stomach and gently pressing against her womb.
Emma bit her lip, hoping desperately for the baby to give another kick so Killian could feel it too.
It did and Killian felt it, giving a small gasp, then a laugh full of emotion. "Hello there, little love. Do you know just how excited Mama and Papa are to meet you?"
Another fluttering.
Killian straightened, not taking his hand away from Emma's stomach. The amount of love and joy Emma saw in his eyes thrilled and terrified her.
He kissed her, lingering as he put all his feelings into that action, and Emma matched him. He pulled her closer, hips grinning against hers that made her give a small gasp. "How much time exactly do we have before Henry comes back?"
"Enough time for us," she said, placing her hands on his chest, kissing him again, then pulling away. But she grabbed his hand and led him to their bedroom.
And later, when they were dressed and presentable again, and Henry was back, they made their way to a Mexican restaurant, satiating Emma's cravings.
As they ate though, Emma felt tension in the air. It reminded her of when her superpower told her someone was lying, but the feeling was muddled. Something was being hidden, despite an outright lie not being told.
She was hiding something, yes. And from the way Killian had come back to the apartment, Emma knew he was hiding something too. Her attention turned to Henry now.
Could it be possible her son was hiding something too?
God, why couldn't things just be normal for once? The life she had been living since Killian had come back was the furthest thing from normal, no matter how hard she had tried convincing herself it was true.
Ever since he came back, she could feel the tug of magic in her body. As much as she denied it, the feeling became even stronger when she became pregnant.
She didn't allow her mind to dwell on those things, knowing it would lead to a path about 'true love' and the magic that came with finding that kind of love.
Emma loved Killian and she knew he loved her just as deeply. But a part of her was still afraid to try and place that label on what they had.
Yes, true love was a beautiful thing, but from the stories she heard about her parents, it was also such a dangerous thing.
Emma didn't want to endure the kind of danger her parents had, because that would only lead to constant periods of separation.
She looked at Killian as he put a chip in his mouth that was dipped with a hefty amount of salsa. His eyebrows immediately lifted and redness creeped along his skin. Henry laughed and pushed his cup of water towards him.
God, she loved Killian so much that she never wanted to go through any kind of separation from him.
That thought helped convince her even more that she needed to continue denying the fact that her magic was returning.
Killian coughed. "What the bloody hell is in this stuff?" he asked as he looked at her.
Emma gave a small laugh at his distress from the spiciness. "I'm not sure, but I do know that's the spiciest one."
Killian drank more of his water, exhaled deeply. "Gods, I don't think I've ever tasted anything that burns that badly yet tastes so good."
And Killian reached over for another chip and scooped up some more of the same salsa, this time getting much less than before.
Emma laughed while Henry teased Killian.
No, she would continue ignoring her magic. This life she formed with Henry and Killian was her real life now.
She refused to do anything that might put that at risk.
And even though Emma had made up her mind, she wondered if Killian perhaps had noticed it on her face that evening. Because as they laid in bed together before he had to go into work, her back against his chest and hand pressed against her womb, he asked her a question on a subject he had long since brought up.
He pressed a kiss into the crook of her neck as he whispered his question. "How much more time do you need before considering searching for the town again?"
Emma closed her eyes, grateful that at least he didn't say the name. She was also grateful he couldn't see the expression on her face, considering she was sure it was a combination of grief and fear. "If I tell you that I don't think I'll ever be ready?"
Another kiss, this time behind her ear. "I would then ask about your parents. I know you miss them, love, even if you won't admit it."
She hated that he was right. Emma had gone her entire life without her parents. It was her life and she had come to the point of accepting it would never change.
And then it did, only just a few years ago when the son she gave up came knocking on her door.
The time she had with her parents had been short, but now that she knew what it was to have parents, being away from them hurt. Still, Killian had picked up on the pain she worked so hard to bury.
"Then I would tell you that the only thing I need in my life is what I have right now. Henry, you, and this baby."
He didn't say anything in response. Emma wondered if he picked up on her half-truth.
They laid together in silence until it was finally time for Killian to leave for work.
Going into the first week of March, things were normal. Emma continued working cases, Killian went to his job at the fish market, and Henry went to school. Emma had even planned a small getaway for them during Spring Break. Visiting one of the Disney parks was out of their budget. For now at least. She could imagine Killian's outrage when he came across the Captain Hook mascot or even the Peter Pan actor. It would have to be a trip they made later on down the road.
When their family of three was a family of four.
In her planning of their getaway, everything was booked or way out of her budget.
If it was any other situation, she would have simply chalked it up to the fact that she hadn't planned far ahead in advance and traveling during spring break was extra popular this year.
But then she started receiving ads for traveling to Maine.
Emma did not want to accept the possibility that magic might very well be preventing her from booking anything. Or even that it was time to go back to Storybrooke, that something might finally be there.
Emma did everything she could to deny the possibility of that. Magic didn't exist in this realm, Storybrooke wasn't here, and she wasn't the savior. How could she be when Storybrooke didn't even exist?
It was hard to deny that magic didn't exist in this realm, as it was becoming more and more easier for her to light candles with a single blink.
They might not be able to book a vacation at some beach or a resort, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least do a road trip. They had never been camping before. That might be fun. And having Killian with them and his expertise at living a life without any technology? It might be even better than the other places she had been considering.
When she presented the idea to Henry and Killian, Killian had immediately agreed to the idea.
"It would be so nice to explore what other lands are in this realm," he said.
Emma just rolled her eyes, having lost hope of Killian not saying anything that made him sound like a complete outsider to this modern world. At least Henry now believed that was just one of Killian's 'quirks'.
Henry took some convincing to go camping though.
"There's not going to be anywhere I can charge my phone."
"You won't need your phone. We'll be in nature and the two people you even need to be contacting will be with you."
"But what are we even going to be doing?"
"Hiking, fishing."
"Oh, I would love to teach you how to fish, lad!"
"Is that it?"
"It'll be fun, Henry."
"But I like my bed! I don't want to have to sleep on the ground."
"You're barely a teenager. You can handle it."
"Oh, that's a good point, Mom. You're pregnant. You probably shouldn't even be camping."
"Being pregnant does not automatically make me an invalid, Henry. We are going and we are going to have fun. Do I make myself clear?"
"But Mom-!"
"Do I make myself clear?"
The decision was made and they were going camping over spring break.
"Are you sure it's a wise idea?" Killian had asked that night. It was a Saturday so Emma had snuggled up in his arms, allowing herself to get comfortable since he wouldn't be leaving to go to work.
"Of course it is," Emma said, her words coming out muffled from having her face pressed into his chest. "I'd like to take a vacation before the baby gets here. All the other stuff I tried to plan was either all booked or way too expensive."
"That's not what I'm referring to."
Emma turned her head a little to look up at him. "What then?" Her brows furrowed as she saw a worry in his eyes.
Worry from something that he wasn't telling her.
"Never mind. It's nothing, I'm sure," he said after a too long pause that brought up her own worry.
She moved a little more until she was able to reach up and cup his cheek. "Promise?"
He grabbed her hand to press a kiss to her palm. "Promise."
She would have believed him forever if the following morning, he hadn't woken her up only a couple hours later, panic in his voice.
"Emma? Emma, love, wake up. Wake up!"
Emma groaned, trying to move away from his hands shaking her shoulders. The movement brought a sharp pain to her abdomen. One that had her squeezing her eyes shut, then shooting open as she looked down.
There was blood on the bed sheets, and coating Killian's hands.
Emma met his eyes for a moment, seeing them wild with panic, before shutting her own as she felt another wave of pain.
The ensuing hour was a blur. She vaguely registered Killian lifting her into his arms, him yelling after Henry that he needed to take her to the hospital. Being placed in the backseat of her car as Killian drove and Henry gave him directions. The bright overhead lights of the hospital as Killian ran her into the emergency room. Set down on a gurney as she was rushed into an exam room, alone, while Killian and Henry were prevented from following after her by a nurse.
In the haze of it all, she could hear herself asking the doctor and the nurses if the baby was okay. She needed to know. Over and over again, she asked until she finally got a response other than they didn't know.
"Yes, the baby is fine. Why don't we get Daddy in here too so I can explain things? Big brother is going to have to keep waiting outside for a bit though."
And when she received that confirmation that the baby was okay, everything came back into focus.
When Killian came in, he rushed to her side, hand gripping hers tightly and checking her over to make sure the doctor hadn't been lying when she said both Emma and the baby were fine. With Killian in the room, the doctor gave them more answers. That it was placenta previa that caused the bleeding.
"Not too rare, but it is something we want to keep an eye on. You'll have to come in a bit more often to make sure things are fine with the baby. I'm going to prescribe some medication for you and bed rest for at least a week. Afterwards, you'll just need to limit physical activities."
"We were supposed to go camping in a couple of weeks. Would that still be possible?" Emma asked, feeling the disappointment creeping in.
The doctor scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Unless you plan on cutting out all hiking and will only sit around while your husband and son take care of things. I recommend canceling. I hope any reservations you made for that trip are refundable."
Neither Emma nor Killian corrected her when she referred to Killian as Emma's husband. There were a bit more important things to worry about.
Emma made a small sound of protest at the idea of canceling this vacation, but Killian squeezed her hand. "Love, please," he said, voice quiet as he looked at her. "It's fine. We'll stay here and take it easy, as the doctor has said to do."
What kept her from trying to protest even more was the look in his eyes. The worry and fear.
She couldn't imagine what had raced through his mind when he woke up and found her lower half covered in blood.
So, she nodded her assent and tried really hard not to think that there was something much more going on. Of something that was trying to prevent her from going anywhere.
The doctor wanted to keep her overnight, just for observation and she could leave first thing in the morning after getting all the paperwork and insurance details sorted.
Killian immediately spoke up and said he was staying with her.
The doctor didn't say anything, only looked at Emma with a raised brow, then to her clipboard as she opted to stay out of this.
"As much as I would love for you to, you can't," Emma said as she grabbed his hand and gave it the gentlest of squeezes. Before he could say any of the protests that were clearly rising, Emma continued. "What about Henry? He can't stay overnight and I don't want him staying alone in the apartment."
Killian deflated, all the arguments he had come up with to stay with her were now null and void. "Yes, of course," he said quietly with regret still in his voice. "I'll stay with the lad tonight."
That was when the doctor decided to speak up again. "He can come in now if he wants. We've got you all settled and there's still half an hour left of visiting time."
Emma nodded but hoped the disappointment didn't show on her face. Only half an hour? That didn't feel like nearly enough time.
But she would see him tomorrow and things were fine. Everything was okay and there was no need for her to worry about him.
He would be with Killian and he would be okay.
Killian stepped out of the room to get Henry. When he came in, he ran to Emma, arms reaching out to hug her, then hesitated at the last minute as he took in the wires and IV connected to her.
"Oh, come here, it's fine," she said, opening her arms to hug him. "Just be careful not to rip anything out."
And Henry hugged her, even though his hug was much more gentle than normal.
"I'm okay and your little bro or sis is okay too," Emma said the moment he pulled back.
"You're sure?" he asked, looking at all the machines and squinting at them, as if he could understand perfectly what all the lines and numbers meant.
"Positive. I've got a little thing going on, but the doctor says it's nothing to worry about. I just need to take it easy for the rest of the pregnancy."
Henry nodded, eyes on her swollen stomach for a moment, then meeting her gaze again. "So...the camping trip...?"
"Canceled. I know how disappointed you must be."
Henry shrugged but looked away in an attempt to hide the bare beginnings of a smile.
Emma reached up to ruffle his hair, earning a scowl from him.
And for the rest of the time, they spent watching a game show on one of the few channels on the hospital TV. Henry sat on the edge of the bed, with Killian in the chair beside her. Emma already felt the exhaustion creeping in, but she wanted to enjoy this time before Henry had to leave.
When it finally came time to say goodbye, it was much harder than Emma realized it would be. She knew it was the pregnancy hormones messing with her, but she felt her eyes welling up at the thought of being alone.
Both Killian and Henry seemed reluctant to leave as well. They promised they would be back first thing in the morning. Emma did make them promise that they would leave the bug here and take a taxi back. It was a small miracle they made it to the hospital in one piece considering that had been the first time Killian had ever driven.
It took a while for Emma to get settled after they left. A nurse came in, checking charts and monitors. She asked Emma if there was anything she needed before dimming the lights for her.
The only thing she wanted in that moment was to be with Killian and Henry, but that wasn't something the nurse could help her with. So, she shook her head and said she was fine, just ready to get some sleep.
Her sleep was uneasy and she dreamt for the first time in a long while. In fact, if she was remembering correctly, for the first time since Killian came back and restored her memories.
She dreamt of her parents. They were at the loft and Mary Margaret held a baby in her arms while David approached with a mug of tea. Mary Margaret was crying, saying something, but Emma couldn't hear anything.
