Here is my second submission to the @captainswanmoviemarathon event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts tv movie (adapted from one of her novels) Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure on the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)
Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements. There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot, still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.
Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)
Chapter One
July 1993
The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acres. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.
Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting up out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Her friend’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment Rose seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon and Rose had held the newest entry in her favorite mystery series in her hand that she wouldn’t be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.
It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They’re willing to give each other at least one other person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror to practice batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness, a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea of the rest of her family’s opinions.
Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out on her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but it seems to be her lot, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.
It’s different when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until it passes, helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, and stay in the servant’s quarters, Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she had in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat, Graham, her friend and a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had taught her how to fish; it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.
This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes had seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts.
“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” none other than Emma’s nemesis Killian Jones crows from his vantage point on dry land.
Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at the quiet of their sanctuary being interrupted. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister shared little in common, she and her two years older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”
The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’d had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth in while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, now standing in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”
“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose and I’s hideaway, fair and square!”
“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.
The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and causes her gaze to cut sharply to the third member of the boys’ little crew, hanging back slightly in the shadows behind Killian and Graham as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman it is all too real.
She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all. Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.
“We could just take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.
Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line, whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.
Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.
However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption. Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.
Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”
Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her vision are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.
Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”
Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”
“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.
“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.
“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”
Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me. I’ll see you then!”
They part ways at the edge of the forest, Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home and Rose to the pristine, Jones mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…
Eighteen years later….
September 2011
The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.
‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for herself, to control her visions and use them for good, and was a special consultant for the NYPD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected other to leave the past in the past, she’d first have to manage it herself.
She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who’d stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then wasn’t her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight.
And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.
Blame Henry and the muse for this nice long chapter and an update. And thank the cooler weather that allows me to escape my house to write...
Chapter 22 - Operation Matchmaker
Pancakes. Why do I smell pancakes?
Emma struggled to open her eyes, her entire body leaden. Her eyelids—and apparently the rest of her body—refused to move, as though every ounce of energy had been sucked away. The only exception was her stomach which released a loud rumble.
They smell really, really good.
Soft tones of conversation floated to her, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth, the voices familiar and right and… home.
Something to remember?
Remember…
Despite her hunger, her exhaustion proved too much, and the voices lulled Emma back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Killian watched Henry execute his best pancake flip to date. Almost all of it landed in the pan this time and Killian grinned. "You've about got it, lad." He kept his words just above the volume of a whisper, careful to not disturb Emma sleeping on the couch.
Henry beamed in pride, but it was short-lived. A frown of suspicion quickly took over. "Is this some sort of plot to get me to do more chores?"
Killian winked. "Perhaps. But given your mother's rule of 'those who cook don't have to clean,' would you rather usurp my role or stay on dish duty?"
Another grin, this one of a co-conspirator, wiped away the frown. "Show me how you do it again."
Two more demonstrations by Killian were followed by four more attempts from Henry—all but his second try landing in the pan, albeit a bit crookedly.
"Well-done, m'boy." Killian ruffled Henry's hair, watching the boy's cheeks flush. "I daresay the job is yours next time, should you want it."
They remained at the counter to eat, the table a bit too close to where Emma slept. Killian placed a healthy stack into a pan in the oven to keep them warm for her.
Henry piled his plate with four of the pancakes—the lad's appetite had increased as of late—dousing them in the sugary toppings both he and Emma loved. He took several large bites, carefully chewing and swallowing before he twisted around to face his mother. "It's not like Mom to sleep through pancakes. Are you sure she's okay?"
Certain? No.
Call it a gut feeling.
Killian scratched the back of his neck with his fingers, trying to formulate an answer that contained what truth he could share while not divulging his own concerns. "I believe so. Your mother merely had a very long, tiring night she needs to recover from."
She barely stirred when I carried her from the taxi.
She didn't sleep well this last week, either.
Oh, and she used magic, which for all I know, can be extremely exhausting, particularly in a land where it isn't supposed to exist.
Half of the pancakes on Henry's plate disappeared before he spoke again. "You know, if you guys are dating or something, you don't have to sneak around and hide it from me."
Killian's inhale of surprise sent a bite of pancakes into his airway, causing a coughing fit that he hoped wouldn't wake Emma. Henry slapped him on the back a few times until Killian's coughing ceased, and thankfully Emma didn't stir. "Why in blazes would you believe we're sneaking around?"
Henry shrugged, seemingly more focused on the pancakes instead of the discussion, but his body posture said otherwise. "Come on, Killian. I live here. Sometimes I wake up hungry in the middle of the night." He turned his head, finally looking at Killian. "You and my mom are super light sleepers. Do you know how hard it is to get a decent snack in the kitchen when you are both sleeping on the couch without waking one of you up?" Henry's brows arched. "The same couch."
Buggering hell!
"It's not what you think." Killian scratched the back of his neck again, trying to decide how to explain the situation.
"So you're not in love with my mom?" The boy's eyebrows rose higher, a cheeky smirk on his face.
Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.
A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!
In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.
Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.
“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.
Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.
“Doing what, love?”
“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”
Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.
“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”
He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.
The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.
The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.
By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.
“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”
“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”
“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.
“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”
Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.
For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.
“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.
“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”
“Lead the way, Captain.”
He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.
“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”
Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.
The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.
“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.
“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”
“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.
“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”
“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.
“Some may believe that.”
“But you don’t?”
“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”
“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”
Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.
“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”
Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.
The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.
Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.
Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.
In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.
Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.
Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.
“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”
“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.
“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”
“And Hook?”
“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”
“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”
He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”
“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”
For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.
“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.
“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”
“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”
Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.
“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.
“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”
The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.
“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”
“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”
“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”
“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.
“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”
“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”
The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.
Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact.
“Liam.”
…
Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!
Self Promo Sunday: We Can Feel So Far (From So Close) | AO3 and Tumblr (1, 2)
Waiting until your best friend left for a cross country tour was a fine time to realize you're in love with him.
It’s been a while since I posted one of these because I’ve struggled with writing over the past several months, and even being involved in the fandom in general tbh. Usually when this happens, I like to reflect on some of my previous stories just to remind myself that I am capable of making words I’m proud of, and I’ll be back at it at some point, even if it’s not any time soon. This story is special to me because I remember how much fun I had writing it. I loved writing the dynamic of Emma and Killian’s relationship and playing around with the musical aspect and how it brings them closer together. (I even had a special playlist for all the songs mentioned that’s still on my Spotify account!) This story is not without it’s flaws by any means- at the time, I hadn’t yet taken any creative writing courses or looked into finding beta readers, which means there’s bound to be things that could be better. But, regardless, it’s still one I love, and I hope if this post leads you to read it that you enjoy ❤️
OMG! I don’t even know what to say. Suffice it, it feels good to get this out in the world finally! All my love to each of you who prodded, asked, encouraged, and more about this story. I’m glad to get this final part out in the world.
Summary: Killian and Emma have been using all sorts of things to avoid what’s right in front of them. Some off the cuff words, though, might get them on the right track.
One word. Two syllables. And a myriad of ways of to duck the promise contained within it.
In her defense, it had been less than 48 hours since they had made it, and she and Killian had other things to occupy themselves with. Things that now left her stretched out in his bed, a little tired, definitely sore, and more than a little alone now that Killian had left to take a shower before joining his brother for the day’s charters.
Emma wanted to begrudge whoever had booked this afternoon’s charter. She wanted to spend another day wrapped in these sheets and Killian’s touch. Though she also knew she was due back in Boston. Her cases weren’t going to solve themselves, and her boss was already likely ticked that she called off two days in a row.
Not to mention that she had all those boxes to pack.
She dragged her hand along where Killian had been sleeping.
His sheets were really nice. As was his bed. Firm without being hard, molding to her while never leaving her feeling like she was sinking. Emma now knew why people might dish out actual money on a real mattress.
She wondered if she might get away with calling today a research day and setting up camp in this bed with her laptop and case files. If only she had thought to pack up either of those things when she made the decision to drive up to Maine.
Also, Mary Margaret would kill her if she didn’t come home and sign a lease on one of the apartments they’d looked at. Emma was days away from the very real possibility of living in her car again. She should be panicked, or at the very least mildly concerned. But here, (finally) in Killian’s bed, worry was the last emotion she was feeling.
Just who are you, and what have you down with Emma Swan?
Stretching out again, she enjoyed the firm press of the mattress as she rolled her shoulders back and into it. The sheets slid along her as she did, pooling at her waist and leaving a trail of goosebumps down her sides as the cool air hit her skin. She trailed her fingers in the sheets’ wake, dragging them across the expanse of her ribcage, just below her breasts, and then circling her stomach.
They both had a little more time, didn’t they? The water in the bathroom was stilling running. Killian couldn’t be in that much of a hurry she reasoned as she bent her knee and drew her foot up the bed. The move left the sheet barely covering her as she dropped one hand to the juncture of skin at her thigh. Her clit pulsed in interest as she thought of Killian emerging from the bathroom, hair damp and skin warm, finding her splayed out like this, fingers sliding along her own slick skin.
She brushed a finger in a slow, lazy circle around the sensitive skin. Would he stand in the doorway and watch her? Or would he settle on the end of the bed, heaping praise and direction as she continued to touch herself? Maybe he’d bring his own hand up to cover add to hers as she worked.
She closed her eyes and hummed at the thought, the memories of Killian’s sure, deft fingers sliding into her last night joining in the images playing in her head.
“Swan…”
The gravel in his voice as he groaned her name would be seared in her memory long after this day was through.
“What are you…” he tried to continue.
She didn’t open her eyes, but she knew he would be biting his lower lip as his attention shifted from where she had one hand wrapped around her breast to the movements of the other beneath the thin sheet that covered her.
“Hmmm?” she murmured as she dropped her raised knee to the side, knowing the change in position would shift her just enough to begin to expose exactly how her fingers were slipping along her folds. She slowly teased at her entrance before returning to just above her clit and starting the whole cycle again.
“We don’t have time.”
He was closer this time, his words coming from the end of the bed before she felt the dip in the mattress. She opened her eyes to find him naked, the towel he must have been wearing left abandoned at the bathroom door. He was watching her, one knee perched on the bed as he rolled on a condom.
“You sure about that?” she asked, giving him a slow smile and a nod. “You don’t look like someone worried about time at the moment.”
“We were supposed to talk, love.” He hooked a hand around her ankle and pulled her towards him.
She settled both feet at the end of the bed and leaned back on her elbows. He leaned in as she did, settling a hand on her hip and lining himself at her entrance.
“We have time, Killian,” she whispered against his lips.
Pulling back, Killian gave a shallow roll of his hips, settling himself just an inch or two inside her. “You promise?”
She raised her hips, trying to angle herself in invitation for him to go further. Instead he grinned as he withdrew before pressing forward once again, teasing her with the shallowest of penetrations.
“Promise?” he repeated.
Smiling at him, she nodded.
*
Emma Swan was a world-class idiot. That was the only explanation for a woman who gave herself two days to pack of all her worldly possessions and move them across town.
Rolling onto her back, she blew at the stray piece of hair that slipped from her ponytail and had plastered itself to her forehead in the night. At least she was a world-class idiot with only enough stuff to fill a small cargo van, and friends who were willing to help her move it with only the bare minimum of grumbling.
Though she was beginning to wonder if they shouldn’t have left her mattress behind. She didn’t remember it behind so lumpy.
She owed David and Elsa more beer. A lot more beer.
Just as soon as she felt like moving. So maybe in another week or so. Once her arms no longer ached.
While it was not nearly as comfortable as Killian’s place, the walls of her new bedroom had been painted a soft, quiet, robin’s egg blue. It wasn’t something Emma would have picked for herself, but lying here, buried beneath both her comforters and the mound of pillows Mary Margaret bought for her, it left her feeling like she were floating.
Floating was good. It was soothing. It stopped her from thinking about just how much her life had been upended in the two last weeks.
Some change is good her brain reminded her in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mary Margaret’s.
That didn’t stop her heart from racing or the cold sweat from breaking out across the back of her neck, though.
He’s Killian, she reminded herself. This was the guy that wore down each of her reservations, steadily, methodically, and kindly, night after night, one cup of coffee at a time.
The one with the wicked smile who teased her, and challenged her. The one who encouraged her to apply for the job at the bail bonds office. The same one who later nudged her to apply for her PI’s license. He was the guy who never crossed a boundary with her she didn’t want to cross. It was him who had been there every time she needed someone.
But that was just it - this was Killian.
This wasn’t something she could just fuck up. Not without upending a decade of friendship when she did.
You’re not going to fuck this up. This time her inner voice sounded more like Killian.
“Says you,” she muttered to herself and pulled one of the pillows over her face.
As if it knew she was spiraling, her phone buzzed from beneath her head where she’d shoved it last night before falling asleep. She turned and pulled the phone into the pillowfort with her. Two texts from Killian flashed brightly on the screen.
You going to answer the door?
It’s Saturday morning. I know you are home at this hour.
She knew the smile she was shooting the phone was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help herself. He was at her door. Again.
Somehow, this felt more monumental than the fact she’d spent two days in his bed. Because this, Killian being here after her promise to him that they’d talk, this was important.
Coffee’s getting cold Swan…
///
“How’d you know?”
Killian laughed as Emma’s eyes tracked the two coffee cups balanced in his hands. “It’s Saturday morning.” He nudged past her and into the small entryway of her new apartment. Little of the space was visible from where he stood, but he did catch sight of a few boxes stacked behind her. “You always need coffee on Saturday morning. Well, really, any morning. Let’s be honest.”
She scowled at him but accepted the to-go cup held out to her.
“But Dave also let slip that it was after two AM by the time he left your place last night. Thought you could use reinforcements to unpack.”
She shrugged. “You know me. I pack light.”
As she took a sip of her coffee, he took the opportunity to get a good look at her face. While they’d texted a few times since she left his house four days ago, there hadn’t been time to really talk or FaceTime. There were still a few good weeks left to the season and he and Liam had been booked solid. Even getting down to Boston for the day - his one day off this week - was a stretch, but there was nowhere Killian would rather be.
Emma was dressed in a pair of plaid sleep shorts and an oversized sweatshirt that was threatening to fall off her left shoulder. The skin beneath her eyes was darker than normal and her hair was falling out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into. She looked like she could use another full day’s worth of sleep. Regardless, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing up close.
“I know,” he said, handing her his coffee and lifting the first box they passed as they made their way into the large room that opened up off the hallway. “Still wish I could have been here to help.”
“It’s ok.”
He hated the tentative expression that furrowed her brow as she glanced down at her bare feet. But he hated even more how she shrunk backwards when she caught him watching her. Killian put his box down and reached out to rest his hand on her hip, tugging her to him. She shot him a look he couldn’t quite read, but dropped the two cups she was holding onto the nearest box and took a step towards him.
There was a clear, plaintive note in her voice as she whispered his name. But she still took another step and swayed into him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, his own worries scattering when she didn’t offer up any resistance.
“I know it is ok.” He traced along her jaw, sinking his fingers into the loose hair pulled back behind her head. “I know you could do this on your own. Still doesn’t mean I didn’t want to help you.”
Shaking her head, she glanced up at him. Her worry was plainly etched in her eyes and he wished he could read her thoughts, could offer her the reassurance she was plainly looking for.
“I’m going to fuck this up.”
Oh, Emma. He bit back a smile that he knew would only piss her off, but couldn’t resist teasing her with a raise of his eyebrow. “It’s only coffee and unpacking, love. Nothing to possibly screw up with either of those things.”
He worked the elastic band the rest of the way out of her ponytail and let it fall to the floor before combing his fingers through the few knots that had gathered in her sleep. Emma stepped out of his embrace and rolled her eyes at him.
“This. I’m going to fuck this -” She stopped and gestured between the two of them before continuing, “Up.”
He shrugged off an internal sigh. This was not how he intended to start this conversation. Killian had hoped to feed her first, but he certainly wasn’t going to back down now that she had finally offered him the opportunity. Instead, he walked himself backwards towards the couch that had been haphazardly pushed up against one the walls, dragging her with him as he did.
“So what?” he asked, his knees hitting the edge of the couch. He sat, pulling her down into his lap as he did. “We’re bound to screw up, Swan. Both of us. Remember when I had that brilliant idea to start screwing that one roommate of yours?”
She stiffened and he cursed himself yet again for the idiocy that was the series of events that led to that epically bad idea. He smoothed his hands along her thighs, trying to not get distracted by the fact that they were bare and smooth beneath his fingertips.
“I hurt your feelings, didn’t I? You stopped speaking me for a couple weeks there, but we eventually sorted ourselves out. ”
She nodded and rested her hands on his stomach.
“Then there was that time you dented my car and didn’t tell me about it. For weeks you avoided fessing up about it. Even after I asked.”
Emma had the grace to blush, and he leaned in and brushed his lips against one of her warm cheeks. “Or what about that time you and Liam -” he whispered.
She pulled back and raised her eyebrow, effectively cutting him off from going into the details of that cock-up of a night.
“Your point?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
He pried one of her hands free and slid his fingers between hers, tugging until he held both her hands and could pull her to him. When her face was only inches from his, he answered her, “My point being that we’re here. We’re still friends. That’s how I know this will work. We’re going to be fine.”
She glanced away. “You can’t promise that.”
He dipped his head, peering up through his eyelashes to get Emma to look at him. “I can, and I will.” He brushed his lips along her cheek. “Though I’d prefer if we opted to not go the route of not speaking to one another next time one of us does something daft.”
“But, I’m not...”
Letting her trail off, Killian dropping both of her hands and wrapped his around her waist, pushing them beneath the hem of her sweatshirt. He inched his right hand up, brushing against the skin where he knew she had the words “this is who I am” etched below the side of her breast.
“You forget. I know who you are, Emma Swan.” He swept his thumb back and forth across that stretch of skin. “You are worth every ounce of trouble and effort. Worth so much more than I can begin to express.” Killian took a breath, waiting a beat until Emma was looking directly at him. “Fuck anyone who’s ever made you feel otherwise.”
“Killian…”
This time, the way she breathed out his name was threaded with hope. A hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth and Killian couldn’t help but lean in to kiss it wider. He brushed his lips against hers, allowing his teeth to to drag against her on his second pass. Drawing his mouth up her jaw, he lingered just beneath her ear, giving himself a moment to enjoy her soft, warm scent before he teased, “Besides, I’m no walk in the park.”
Emma tossed her head back and let out a full throated laugh that warmed his entire chest.
This, he thought as he watched her, this is going to work.
///
18 months later…
Emma leaned against the brick wall of the Bar Harbor Sheriff's station and listened to the heavy glass door click closed behind her. She didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or have a panic attack. Neither was probably a good look for the town’s newest deputy. Standing there as the snow falling around her picked up strength was also probably not the best display of her sanity, but she wasn’t quite sure that her legs were up to the task of carrying her to her car.
Oh. My. God.
Glancing down at the shiny gold badge in her hands, she still couldn’t quite believe that she was offered the job or that she accepted.
She hadn’t even told Killian she applied.
He’s going to kill me.
She fingered the keys in the pocket of her coat, smoothing her thumb along the one that opened the front door of Killian’s house.
“Emma?”
She jumped at the sound of Liam’s voice, dropping the deputy’s badge in the low mound of snow that had been shoveled into a pile next to the station’s entrance. Liam bent and picked it up, eyeing it briefly before handing it back to her.
“That yours?”
Emma bit at her lip and scanned Liam’s face in a vain attempt to get a read on what he might think of her change in career paths. While there were traces of Killian in his eyes and the set of his jaw, Liam was always much better at keeping each of his thoughts from being telegraphed across his face.
Liam prodded her foot with the tip of his boot. “You took the open deputy’s position?”
She nodded, still feeling all too nervous to form any words.
“Killian didn’t mention that you were looking, or even that you were thinking of moving here.”
She cleared her throat. “He doesn’t know.”
“Come again?” Liam cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eye at her.
Before she could offer up any of the weak defenses as to why she hadn’t mentioned to Killian that she had applied - let alone interviewed - for the job, Liam’s mouth broadened into a full smile and he reached out and pulled Emma into a bear hug.
Emma smiled as his arms tightened around her and wondered, not for the first time, if she were crazy. There was absolutely no good reason why she hadn’t told anyone. For months, Mary Margaret had been encouraging her to think about moving. Killian had given her the key in her hand almost from the start. She had spent more time at his place in the summer and fall than she had in Boston. This should have been the easiest thing to admit that she wanted to do.
And yet…
“He’s going to be over the moon,” Liam whispered against the side of her head before placing a kiss on the brim of her knit cap. “Now go tell him before the Sheriff goes to Granny’s for his afternoon cuppa and the old biddy pries it out of him. If you’re not careful, she’ll have someone squawk to Killian before you have the chance.”
“Yeah?” she asked,
“Yes, love. He’s going to be thrilled. As will Rose. Speaking of, dinner tomorrow? To celebrate?”
She laughed and Liam pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders and shoving her in the direction of her car.
“Now go, before someone spoils your news.”
He was right. The town might have a population of 5000 residents in the winter months, but it often felt like 500 once the gossip mill got started. She really wanted to be the first to see his face when he realized she meant to stay. For as long as he wanted her there.
Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.
Well, until things get complicated, that is.
Rating: M (previous mentions of alcohol abuse, violence, and sex)
A/N: Here we are, the last chapter. This is such a surreal moment because after more than a year this story is over and done. This @captainswanbigbang experience has been one of a lifetime and has taught me so much!
One last thank you to @ofshipsandswans and @acourtoftruelove. Honestly, I can't even properly express how important these two have been for this fic, its successful completion, and just in my life in general. I both love you loads.
Not to forget my amazing artist @shady-swan-jones who has made epic art for this fic, who is just such a lovely person and who, out of all the possible fics, picked mine, for which I am very thankful.
Without further ado, one last time, A Muted Hue of Grey
---------------------------------------
“Emma, no.”
“Killian.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Emma,” he repeated, his blue eyes serious as he kept eye contact and shook his head.
She rolled her eyes before returning the look.
“I have to go home,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” he disagreed.
His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back to him. The bedcovers shifted, baring her legs as she attempted to wriggle out of his hold and get out of bed.
“I haven’t been home in three days,” she told him, reminding him of how one evening together had shifted into a night together which had then merged into another one and another.
Not that she had any qualms with it.
None whatsoever.
Especially with the way his lips were pressing feather-light kisses against her spine.
“Stay.”
Emma couldn’t bring herself to say no. Not to him, not to the way his hair was so playfully mussed, not when the crinkles near his eyes appeared again, not when they were in such a good place.
“Okay.”
-/-
They hadn’t been in this place for long. It had taken a lot of talking and arguing and reasoning to get there. A lot of hurting and painful introspective. But it had been for the best and so she’d endured it. He had too. Because they thought it was worth it.
And honestly, it was worth every tear that had been shed, every long silence that had taken place.
What she got in return was more than anything she could’ve hoped for.
-/-
“Doesn’t it bother you that he’s still free?”
Killian looked up from his book, his brow instantly furrowing. He didn’t need more to know who she was talking about; they hadn’t mentioned his name in weeks, hadn’t encountered him in the time of peace they’d received.
But it had been nagging Emma. He was still out there and as much as they could try and ignore his existence, he still roamed around London being his psychopath self.
Something she struggled with. Call it a savior complex but it felt unfair to have been such a big part of his malfeasance and not prevent others from his wrath and psychotic behavior.
Killian put his book aside and wrapped his arms around Emma’s ankles, pulling her closer to him on the couch.
“This again?”
She sat up and leveled her eyes with him.
“I know you don’t like to talk about it but it has to bother you as much as it bothers me. What happened to try and prove his guilt?”
“I found things that are more important.” His hand brushed over her cheek, the warmth of his hand conveying tenderness along Emma’s skin.
She leaned into his touch, the sudden emotion creeping up her throat. It wasn’t unusual for him to express affection, show how much he cared for her but it still affected her. She wasn’t used to being that adored. And then there was something else.
She hadn’t said I love you yet.
She wanted to say I love you almost every moment she spent with him. But it got stuck on the tip of her tongue every single time.
“I get that but what if he sends his minion to hurt you again? Or other people. What if he goes for Anna or Elsa? I just don’t like that he’s out there, Killian.”
He sighed while averting his eyes from her, placing his chin on her knees. He had to know she was right. She was also pretty certain he felt the same way. His good form was ingrained into him, a crucial part of who he was. He’d want to do the right thing.
Emma placed her hand on his cheek and gently turned his face to her again. In a sad way, her lips curled.
They had to do the right thing.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, the sadness reaching him too.
“Maybe try taking another route? A more legal one this time?” She cocked her head in suggestion.
“We would have to find someone to help us legally, but Gold has people everywhere. They cannot be one of Gold's puppets.”
“I might know someone.”
Might was a wrong word. She knew the perfect someone.
-/-
“Did you ever tell me he went to law school?”
An ambulance raced passed them as they walked on the street, synchronized steps sounding against the concrete. It wasn’t far, only two blocks, but Killian had still grabbed her hand to walk the way.
Emma swung their linked hands.
“I might’ve? I don’t remember.” She shrugged. She’d never thought Samir being a lawyer would be something she’d need but here they were: on their way to his shop.
“And he works in a shop?”
Emma checked the street for incoming cars before quickly crossing and pulling Killian along.
“It’s his dad’s,” she explained. “There’s a whole story behind it, I’m sure.”
“Well, I believe you.”
“Why thank you, Jones, for that assurance.”
He winked in response, eliciting a smile on Emma’s face.
The shop appeared from behind the corner and she smiled. It had been a while since she’d seen Samir, fewer midnight snacks and drinks that needed to be bought recently. Maybe his theory about being a not so happy single was correct.
This was also the first time Samir and Killian would meet and she was looking forward to it. Her favorite people in this city had to meet at some point, and even if this visit wasn’t just for pleasure, it still meant something.
The door opened, the bell rang and they were inside.
The store was empty but not for long as Samir emerged from the back, a pack of what looked like cereal in his hands and blocked his view.
“I’ll be right with you!”
“Take your time, Samir,” she reassured.
As he walked to the cereal rack, back facing them, Samir spoke again: “Is that my favorite customer I hear?”
She laughed.
“It might be.”
“I hope it’s her. My sales have been suffering since she decided to disappear more and more,” Samir replied, still not turned to them.
Emma and Killian looked at each other, both raising their eyebrows with a smile.
Finally, Samir finished putting the boxes away and approached them, a smile directed towards Emma and a curious glance towards Killian and their entwined hands.
“Hi,” she finally greeted her friend properly.
“Hello,” he replied.
Killian patiently waited in silence until Emma introduced the two of them to each other.
“Samir, this is Killian,” she began. “Killian, this is Samir.”
“Nice to meet you, mate.” Killian released her hand and reached for Samir’s outstretched one, the men sharing a quick but genuine shake. “Emma has told me a lot about you.”
“You too, mate.” He nodded. “What brings you to my humble shop?”
Emma took a step forwards.
“Remember when we first talked and I told you that if I ever needed a lawyer, I’d call you?” She gave him a second to recall the memory before she continued. “The moment has come.”
Samir did not seem surprised or taken aback at all. Instead, a fire lit up his dark brown eyes as something Emma couldn’t describe as anything other than determination appeared.
“You’re taking him down?” he asked, looking at the both of them for an answer.
She sought Killian’s eyes, wanted to be sure that they were both one hundred percent sure of the path they were going to go down. When she found them, Emma knew that this was what they were doing, even if it was the last thing they did.
“We are,” she replied, the same determination that could be found in Samir’s eyes now in her voice. “If you’re up for it.”
“Rocky Road.” Samir smiled. “I’d thought you’d never ask.”
-/-
They spent hours, days, weeks searching. Searching for the smallest lead or detail that was off. Soon they realized it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
And it was fucking frustrating.
How could Gold never once have made a misstep? How was that even possible? All humans make a mistake at some point, so why didn’t he?
Samir couldn’t do a lot if they had nothing to go off. He couldn’t think of a charge without proof, couldn’t magically make an accusation appear out of thin air.
Killian tried using the things he’d gathered before but the tidbits of information were mostly outdated and incorrect.
Emma… well she got more frustrated by the minute and wasn’t as useful to the investigation as her companions.
It was so unfair. On paper, this man was a saint. Donations to nonprofits, he tipped fairly, he even recycled. You name it and The Honorable Mr. Gold had most likely done it.
Which, again, was fucking frustrating.
Emma grunted, throwing one of their folders on Killian’s coffee table. She let her head drop into her hands, momentarily sick of reading and reading, processing information without discovering anything valuable, anything useful for the case they were trying to build.
A case that was currently non-existent because of said shortage of information.
She sighed against her palms and closed her eyes. An empty nothing was better than going back to the file, with information being catapulted at her.
A headache was forming between her temples and so she stayed like that, hands half-buried in her hair and forehead leaning against her palms.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulder.
“Oh god!” She jumped and placed her hand over her heart as she saw who the culprit was. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Killian stood next to her with an apologetic grimace on his lips and a plastic bag in his hand.
“Apologies, love. I did announce I was home,” he defended himself, not to take the blame off of himself but to tell her it wasn’t on purpose.
“It’s fine. It’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” She got up and quickly kissed his mouth in way of greeting.
A delicious smell wafted upwards and reached her nose, making her stomach growl. She’d forgotten to eat. Again.
“You bought Chinese?”
He’d told her that he wasn’t the biggest fan of Chinese food and that he ate it maybe once every three years (and that was a broad estimate) So every time he came home with takeout, she knew he did it for her. Because she loved it almost as much as he didn’t like it. Because he’d thought of her while walking past the Chinese restaurant and wanted to make her happy.
She should really tell him she loved him.
“I was in the mood for some spring rolls,” Killian shrugged.
Emma wasn’t falling for his act and stepped back into his personal space, lips searching his again, this time for more than just a peck.
They broke apart, their chests heaving ever so slightly as they both came up for air.
“I should best put this on the table,” he said, his hand lifting the bag of Chinese food again.
Tell him.
Tell him.
Emma, tell him.
“Killian?” she blurted out, her mouth acting before her mind could reconsider.
“Aye?” He turned to her with expectant eyes which definitely didn’t help with the stress that was tormenting her body right now.
Emma took a deep breath, thanks to their earlier tiny make out session, she could attribute her breathlessness to that and not to the source of her fast-beating heart and sweaty palms.
“I love you,” she said and she felt lighter instantaneously. “I thought you should know that.”
Killian left the Chinese food for what it was and strode towards her, only three big strides before he reached her, touched her, kissed her.
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” he echoed the words, whispered them against her slightly swollen lips. “I thought you should know that too.”
Laughter bubbled out of Emma with the complete happiness and tranquility she finally felt, and of that earlier frustration, there was nothing left.
-/-
“Honestly, I think it’s bollocks. He must’ve paid someone to clear his records. No one is this clean,” Samir mumbled through his full mouth of spaghetti.
Emma sipped from her glass of water and set it back down on the table before taking another bite of her own food.
Quite early on, they discovered that once the three of them—Emma, Killian, and Samir—got together to discuss their plans, it usually turned into just friends hanging out for a while as they all got along extremely well. Emma had honestly been afraid that her friend and her boyfriend wouldn’t get along at first but now, they sometimes got along too well. They had a serious bromance going on and she wouldn’t say she was jealous but she wouldn’t mind if they got along slightly less either. So they went from random meetings in the middle of the day to actual planned dinner evenings for a perfect mix of business and casual.
So that was why Samir was now stuffing his face with Killian’s divine spaghetti and commenting on how he thought the situation was bullshit.
Which Emma agreed with one hundred percent.
“I know, mate, but we have nothing else to go on,” Killian reacted.
“Have we covered all bases?” Samir asked again, but they had. “Youth? Career? Family? Anything we could’ve missed?”
Killian shook his dark locks in a negative answer.
“Milah told me he had no family to speak of so that’s a dead end.”
Emma froze, her eyes popping open as she dropped her fork on the table.
Gold’s brother.
“What did you say, Swan?” Killian frowned as Emma had apparently not only thought it but had actually spoken it out loud.
She cleared her throat before repeating what she had just come to realize. “Gold has a brother.”
“A brother?” Both Killian and Samir said in unison—there was that bromance she was speaking of.
She turned to Killian and grabbed a hold of his prosthetic.
“The guy that attacked the both of us, his name is Malcolm Gold.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
She knew it because Malcolm’s ego got hurt and he wanted to boast about his powerful name to scare her even more.
"He told me. He might be lying but there is a similarity between the two that makes me think he was telling the truth and that they are brothers."
She got up, not waiting for any type of reaction from the both of them, not having the patience to wait for them to collect their thoughts on the information she’d just handed them.
Emma had already wasted enough time by not thinking of a lead she had had all along, from way before they had decided to try and take Gold down together. She didn’t have the time to be angry with herself right now, that would come later, now she needed to grab her computer as quickly possible.
Faster than ever before, she typed in her password and pulled up some of the online tools she’d often use while researching one of her cases. ‘Malcolm Gold’ she typed in and fervently asked Zeus, the universe, to give her this one thing, to give her something to work with.
“And?” Killian asked, still seated at the table, seemingly understanding what she was attempting to do.
She looked up from the bright computer screen and smirked at her team.
“It seems our dear Malcolm isn’t as good in hiding his tracks as his baby brother is.”
-/-
Malcolm Gold was, as Emma discovered, a man of many facets. One of them being an arsonist, another one of them being a notorious drug dealer who was the supplier of a variation of cocaine called Fairy Dust.
Not the most positive of reputations. And yet, somehow, he had spent a grand total of thirty-one hours in jail.
And there it was.
A lead.
After Emma’s discovery, it was all hands on deck; it was countless all-nighters with coffee as their only fuel. It was reading and more reading until their eyeballs went dry.
It took so much but they’d done it.
She was about ready to cry when Samir told her the news.
They had an airtight case. Gold was guilty of blackmail, extortion and the fabrication and distribution of narcotics.
And the son of a bitch was going to jail for it.
-/-
They stood in the parking lot of the courthouse, Emma and Killian leaning against Killian’s Toyota and talking in low voices in case someone overheard them. This was a big moment, something they’d worked towards for months, but Emma couldn’t stop shaking.
Months of work were depending on this. Innocent lives were depending on this. Her sanity in general was depending on this. So, it was safe to say that the stakes were pretty damn high.
From across the parking lot, she saw Samir appear, dressed in a dark suit that made him look way older than his young twenty-four years. She had total faith in him, however. He was relentless and thorough. And he was her friend.
“Hello,” he greeted them and they smiled in response.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come inside too?” Samir asked.
She looked at Killian and saw the exact same answer in his eyes. They didn’t want to face him again, not after all he had done and attempted to do. The man was a maniac and the less time they had to spend in his company, the better.
“No, Samir,” Killian said in her stead. Her hands weren’t the only thing that was shaking. “This is all you. We believe in you and we want to thank you for all that you’ve done for us. You’re a true friend.” He clasped his shoulder before going for a hug.
“What about you, Rocky Road?” Samir said as he turned to her. “Will you be alright?”
“Of course,” she finally spoke, managing the tiniest smile. “I trust you completely.” Emma looked him in the eye, reassured when she saw the embers burn in his eyes. “Go destroy him.”
Samir smiled at her and nodded sternly before giving her a hug as well. “For what he did to you,” he whispered as his arms were around her, “–gladly.”
Gold was not prepared for the fury he was about to meet.
“If it’s alright with you, mate, I’m taking Emma home,” Killian said and Emma looked at him in confusion. That wasn’t what they had planned.
Before she could question it, he silently grabbed her hand and squeezed and while she didn’t exactly fully understand what he was saying, she understood enough to not disagree. He really wanted to take her home, so she’d let him. There wasn’t a lot she could do on a courthouse parking lot, either way.
“Fine by me,” Samir replied, “I’ll call you with the verdict.”
Emma was curious about what Killian’s plans were once they got home but he simply took off his jacket as they entered the apartment, toed off his shoes, motioned her to take off her own and led her to the couch once she had. He settled into it and opened his arms to welcome her, an invitation she’d glady–always– accept.
For the time they lay on the couch, there was only Killian and nothing else. No sorrow or fear, only love and warmth. Her hands finally stopped trembling.
In the peace of the purest tranquility, she fell asleep surrounded by him. His heartbeat under her head, his scent in her nose, his legs tangled with hers.
It must’ve been hours later when she woke up, her body still glued to his but the light entering through the window completely different from when they had first gotten comfortable in the sofa. Cranking her eyes open, she looked up and found Killian looking at her with soft eyes, hand smoothing over some unruly blonde hair. He bowed his head and tenderly pressed his lips to her hair.
“We won.”
She sought his eyes and saw the honesty and contentment that lovely shade of blue emitted. Emma didn’t reply to his statement, not in words anyway. She just tightened her arms around him even more and kissed his collarbone before closing her eyes and feeling yet another kiss on her skin, this time on her forehead.
And at last, the mist of grey had lifted and left just the tiniest sparkle of brightness.
-------------------------------------
And that's it. Our bbis get a happy ending and all was well. I'd like to thank you all for coming onto this ride with me and staying loyal fans as the fic progressed. I'd like to thank everyone who left a comment, a like, fun tags, a kudos. While writing the chapters, I sometimes thought "but what if no one likes this fic I've been working on for months", but the response has been incredible so thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the ride and I hope you have a lovely 2019. Bye!
Chapter 17 of my fic, When Doves Cry is now available on FF.net and AO3.
If you unfamiliar with this fic, and you need to start at the beginning (or just need a re-read to refresh), you can start here or here, respectively.
Summary: She loved him as an adolescent, he admired her from afar; each thought their difference in station an insurmountable obstacle. Years later, Princess Emma and Lt. Killian Jones enter into a marriage of convenience, having long ago given up on obtaining the other's love. Can they overcome tragedy and re-discover each other again?
Rating: M for sex, mature themes, triggers.
Edited because I was so nervous-sick about posting that forgot to tag the usual suspects, originally: @klar425, @strawwolf, @nummygraphics, @walkerfairytales, @iamanneenigma
A Pinch of Magic, A Twist of Fate, and A Full Moon (4/?) Witch/Werewolf AU
Summary: It has long been told that Emma would be the Savior to save the witches from Rumplestiltskin, the infamous witch hunter. In an unsuspected attack Rumplestiltskin catches Emma off guard and an unknown ally saves her from a certain death and suddenly she feels obligated to do the same for the stranger.
Ao3 FF
This is my contribution to the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! @cssns @kmomof4
The lovely artwork is thanks to @shady-swan-jones
Chapter 4: Plans and Assets
Supper is a loud, noisy meal simply because of the number of people at the dining room table. Elsa engages herself in a conversation with Ruby and Anna in an attempt to avoid Liam. Robin keeps shooting Regina longing looks when he thinks no one is watching him. Killian unabashedly keeps glancing at Emma whenever she isn’t glancing at him. Roland and Henry are getting along well, talking too loud then what is appropriate, but no one feels the need to quiet them. Snow and David are quietly talking amongst themselves.
The sun goes down and the children start to get sleepy with Roland almost falling asleep at the table. Emma shares a look with Robin, who scoops Roland into his arms. Emma gets Henry’s attention.
“Come on, kid. It’s past your bedtime,” Emma tells him.
“Five more minutes,” Henry attempts to say through a yawn.
“I don’t think so, you can barely keep your eyes open. Let’s go,” she orders him. Despite his grumbles he follows his mother out of the dining room. Emma helps him get ready for bed and seeing how well the boys get along, Robin and her decide they should share a room. Once the boys are tucked in they leave them to join the others in the meeting.
“With the prophecy and all do you guys have a plan?” Liam asks when all of them have a seat at the table.
“Not exact details, but we need to corner him and disable him. We haven’t made any moves because the first part of the prophecy only came to pass a month ago,” David tells them. The pack waits patiently for someone to explain.
“The prophecy stated I wouldn’t defeat the dark one until I was twenty-eight, which I turned a month ago. We’ve been planning for sometime now. We have squid ink to immobilize him and then I come in to end him. What we lack is ever knowing where he is or having a sufficient enough distraction,” Emma tells them.
“We could set a trap and lure him out,” Robin suggests, looking around the table.
“We decided against that because we want to catch him unaware,” Regina says.
“If you set up a trap you can control the situation. He seems blood thirsty enough to be fooled into any trap you set,” Killian tells them.
“What did you have in mind exactly?” Snow asks him, pointedly.
“It would be helpful to know all of your abilities exactly. In order to know what kind of trap we can set,” Killian says looking at each of them.
“I’ll start, I’m an empath, I can sense someone’s emotions. I can’t imagine I’ll be much use to you,” Anna shrugs.
“Not so sure about that, can you control emotions of a person?” Liam asks.
“Well yes I can do that. Although it is frowned upon to do so,” she nods. Liam nods exchanging a look with Killian.
“It’s easier to show you what I can do,” Elsa says. She simply raises her hand and faces her palm toward the ceiling, snowflakes start falling from it. When the pack doesn’t look impressed Elsa creates a shard of ice and throws it just to the left of Liam’s head straight into the wall. Ruby laughs at Liam’s shocked expression.
“Oh yeah, we can use that,” Ruby chuckles. Regina creates a fireball and Robin’s eyes widen.
“I won’t throw this it will be a little too destructive,” Regina says with a smirk, “Emma and I can also transport ourselves from one location to the next.”
“Interesting and we can definitely use that,” Killian says. Snow sweeps her hand from left to right, brings forth a wine bottle and enough glasses for them.
“I have healing abilities as well. Should this turn ugly as we think it will,” Snow says, using her abilities to pour them all a glass of wine.
“I have a natural ability with animals, it’s how we’ve been so lucky with getting food even in the dead of winter. Other than that I’m rather good at hand to hand combat,” David tells the group. The pack nods. Emma emits some of her white light.
“Looks pretty, but it can hurt when I want it to,” Emma says, the light dissipating.
“You know what to do when you confront him?” Liam asks her.
“I know exactly what to do. Don’t worry about me,” she tells them. A somber tone falls over the room. Killian’s gaze is glued to Emma. He knows she’s holding something back, but doesn’t know what it is. Regina looks to Liam.
“You know what we can do now, so what’s your plan?” she asks him.
“We’ll need to scout an ideal location, somewhere away from any unsuspecting people,” Liam answers her.
“We still need a good distraction, something to draw him out,” Ruby comments.
“I think that should be something to ponder on for tonight. It’s been a long day and we still have a lot of work to do. We all need a good night’s sleep,” Snow declares standing up, her husband grasps her hand. They all agree with the exhaustion weighing on them. Snow leaves and David follows behind her. Regina looks like she wants to say something, but she shakes her head, leaving as well. Emma finishes her glass of wine in one swift motion, wishing it was something stronger.
“Did we miss something?” Killian asks looking at the cousins remaining at the table.
“We have devoted so much of our lives to this fight and to have it be so close to the end well it’s difficult for everyone to process,” Elsa comments.
“Not to mention the moral implications,” Anna contributes.
“Good thing you won’t be killing him then,” Emma snaps, irritated by Anna’s innocence.
“Emma, you have light magic that’s meant for good. How is what we’re doing good?” Anna asks her, getting upset.
“You don’t think this is worth it? Don’t you want to go home? Aren’t you tired of living on the run? Aren’t you tired of him murdering us out of some misguided vengeance? We are getting rid of a great evil, what isn’t good about that?” Emma says getting angry, her hands starting to glow. The pack realizes what an important fight this is for everyone in this house, what they have all sacrificed to be here.
“Emma,” Elsa says looking at her cousin’s hands. Emma curses before shaking out her hands, the glowing stops.
“I make no apologies for what has to be done,” Emma says before leaving the room. Anna looks to Elsa.
“I’m going to bed, good night,” she tells the room before leaving. Elsa looks as if she doesn’t know what to do anymore.
“I’m sorry you all had to see that, tensions have been running high lately,” Elsa tells the room, cleaning up the glasses that everyone left behind.
“No worries, these things happen. Especially within families,” Liam says, jumping to help Elsa collect the glasses and follows her out of the room.
“Anyone have the feeling what we jumped into is much larger than what we thought it was,” Ruby muses out loud.
“Definitely, but that’s what makes it interesting,” Robin says with a smirk. Killian nods and tells them goodnight. He wants to find Emma, he knows she’s upset. While searching the rooms on the ground floor of the house Killian spots Emma in the garden looking over forest. He makes his way outside to stand next to her.
“Are you alright, love?” he asks her, wanting to reach out to touch her, but he stops himself.
“Anna has morality issues with this and it’s hard for her to accept that,” Emma says, not looking at him.
“I gathered as much, but I asked about you,” he says pointedly.
“I’m fine. I’ve prepared myself for this for a long time,” she says finally looking at him, with something akin to sadness in her eyes.
“Well, if you ever need to talk about it. I’m here,” he tells her. He’s not entirely sure why, but that pull he feels when she’s around is undeniable.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says a smile on her face.
“Ah that’s much better,” he says and she raises an eyebrow.
“What is?” she asks, curious.
“Your smile, much better than the frown that was masking your face,” he tells her. He desperately wants to reach out, place a hand on her cheek, and pull her in for a kiss. He stops himself, now isn’t the time for that.
She can’t stop thinking about him and his stupid lips. How soft and supple they look. How she wants them on hers so desperately. She never felt like this with Neal, not even once. She’s fighting so hard to deny this attraction, but in this moment she wants him.
“You don’t know me all that well how can you say that?” she says shaking her head.
“I don’t have to know you well to see you look much more beautiful with a smile,” he tells her.
“You seem like quite the charmer, I bet you say that to all the women you meet,” she says with a smirk.
“Ah yes all the many women I meet as a wolf in the forest,” he teases her. The moonlight shining down on them, providing dim lighting in the garden.
“You never know who you’ll find in the forest,” she smiles at him.
“You never do. I feel quite lucky to have met you,” he tells her his hand brushing hers.
“It does feel quite fortunate, something about fate and all that,” she says, blushing. He can no longer help it and his hand brushes her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. He brings her closer until his lips brush against hers. Once then twice. She surges forward and captures his lips with hers. Gods he’s never had a kiss like this. He imagined kissing her all day, but this is something else. Emma’s hands grasp the lapels of his jacket. One of his hands tangles in her hair.
My god Emma has never had a kiss like this. A kiss full of passion and longing. She never knew a kiss could feel this good. She knows she should distance herself away from him, but my god kissing him shouldn’t feel as good as this. She’s entirely selfish in this moment. She wants this and him, even though it’s not fair to him at all.
When they pull apart and come up for air and rest their foreheads on each other. Emma realizes what a huge mistake she has made. She can’t kiss him. She can’t lead him on like this. He should kiss women who aren’t fated to die at the hands of the great evil.
“That was…” he says trailing off. She pulls away from him, shaking her head.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have..” she says backing away.
“Emma?” he says confused. He knows she felt what he did. If she didn’t she would’ve stopped the kiss. She would’ve said something or shouted at him. She’s running because she’s scared.
“I can’t. Please wait five minutes until you go back inside the house,” she says all the while continuing to back up.
“As you wish,” he says briskly, he can’t stop her from running. No matter how badly he wants to. Emma turns around and runs into the house. She definitely shouldn’t have kissed him. That was a huge mistake. How could she do that to someone who wasn’t born into this hellish mess? Emma barrels into a room she’s sharing with Elsa and Anna. Elsa looks up from her bed and Anna does too.
“Are you okay?” Elsa asks. Emma just shakes her head.
“Nope, I’m definitely not,” Emma says her hand shaking as she runs it through her hair.
“I can feel the guilt and regret rolling off you. You want to talk about it?” Anna asks her. Emma shakes her head.
“Not yet,” she mumbles. The sisters nod, they’re used to waiting for Emma to open up to them. They’ve learned not to push her.
“We’re here when you’re ready,” Elsa tells her as Emma gets ready for bed. Emma just nods not knowing what to say. How to explain her terrible actions. She wouldn’t drag a good man down with her. It took awhile, but Emma eventually faded into sleep.
In the morning thankfully Henry is quite attached to her and requires a lot of her attention. She’s so distracted she misses how Killian is still gazing longing at Emma. How he’s not mad, just confused as to what went wrong. Liam and Elsa keep looking at each other then hurriedly looking away when they catch each other’s gaze. Robin gazing at Regina when he knows she’s not looking. Regina who is making a show of not looking at Robin.
“Is it me or do we have a bunch of love sick fools in here?” Snow says to David, who looks shocked by this.
“Who are you talking about?” he asks looking around the room.
“Oh you can be so dense sometimes,” Snow sighs, “When you see it you’ll know.” David looks confused, but glances around the table.
After breakfast Anna volunteers to distract the kids for the day, saying she’ll support any plan they come up with. That’s when things get hard for Emma because then she notices how Killian is looking at her and it breaks her heart. He’s not mad or angry, he’s still gazing at her like he always has with maybe a tinge of sadness.
“I’ve been thinking about the distraction and I think it should be me,” Regina tells the room.
“Why you?” Robin asks, curious.
“The Dark One and I have a little history. He knew my mother, he killed her. He would be able to trace my magic if we left a convincing trail,” Regina says.
“He can trace magic?” Ruby asks looking around.
“Why do you think we walked here? We could transport from place to place, but that’s how he tracked us at first. He came so close getting us a few times,” Snow tells them.
“When do we want to set this trap?” Emma asks the room, changing the subject.
“It should be the day of the full moon. We will be at our strongest and the most helpful to you then,” Killian answers her question forcing her to look at him finally. He’s more hurt then he cares to admit. Most of all curious as to what happened last night. What caused the change in Emma. It’s not hard to see she’s an strong, powerful, and beautiful women, but he doubts she sees that in herself. He wants to talk, but she’s avoiding his gaze.
“When is the full moon?” Emma asks him, trying to not let his gaze get to her. She knows there are things unsaid between them. There are questions he’s dying to ask her and she doesn’t want to give him the answers. He’s better off without her in his life. He’s better off with her at a distance.
“Two weeks,” he tells her. She finally breaks his gaze to look at Regina.
“Will that be enough time to set up a convincing trail?” she asks Regina.
“Yes, I’ll leave the week before. The trail will be small and hard to follow. He’ll need to believe that he was the only one who could pick up on it,” Regina says.
“So we have a week to scout out a good location to have this fight,” Liam says and David nods.
“We’ll start today then,” Killian says and Liam agrees. The meeting breaks up, the wolves shifting in the yard before they set off. Killian walks out the room without as much as a goodbye. Maybe he’s finally upset with Emma, but that’s good it’s how it should be.
Regina heads to their library to do some more research. Emma glares out of the window in the parlor. Elsa strides up next to her.
“I know you’re not ready to talk about whatever happened, but I need to talk to you,” Elsa says quietly. Emma turns to her concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asks, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I think you’re right. I think he’s my true love,” is all she says at first. Emma smirks.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Emma comments.
“Witches, we’re more intune with ourselves, with our bodies. We know when a change occurs, we can sense it. What if he doesn’t feel what I feel or he doesn’t know what it means?” Elsa asks quickly her panic causing snow to fall. Emma takes her hand and the snow stops.
“He may have not accepted it yet or he doesn’t know what it is. I doubt either one of those things changes how he feels about you. What caused this panic in you?” Emma asks skeptical.
“Nothing really. He helped me clean up last night and we were talking then at some point we started holding hands as he walked me to my room. He said he wanted to get to know me and kissed my hand before walking away. All rather tame I’m afraid,” she shrugs.
“It can’t be that tame if you’re panicking, what else happened?” Emma asked again, knowing her cousin was holding back. Elsa takes her time before answering.
“Something snapped into place or perhaps the pull between us was so strong, but all I know he’s the only one for me,” she tells Emma, who smiles.
“When you know you know. Men are usually the last to know when a woman wants them, so give him time to catch up,” She comforts Elsa. They look over the view that the house provides for a few minutes pondering everything happening in their lives.
“I’ve made a mistake,” Emma almost whispers.
“What?” Elsa asks, wondering if she heard her cousin correctly.
“I’ve made a mistake,” Emma repeats herself.
“What happened?” Elsa asks, calmly.
“I kissed Killian,” she says quietly.
“I knew I wasn’t the only one who was interested in a Jones brother. Why would-” Elsa’s train of thought stops and catches up to Emma’s, “Oh no, Emma. I’m so sorry.”
“It was impulsive and in the moment. I just got swept away. I feel like he sees me and understands me. It’s never been like that with anyone outside the coven. He does it with such ease. Elsa, the kiss… there is nothing that can compare,” Emma tells her tears in her eyes.
“They don’t know about your fate,” Elsa says, unsure. Emma shakes her head.
“I shouldn’t have kissed him. It was reckless. I can’t lead him on knowing that I’ll die. It wouldn’t be fair to him,” she whispers.
“Maybe he should get to decide. Maybe to him loving you would be worth it. They should know the truth anyway with this plan of ours,” she tells her cousin. Her words may not be what Emma wants to hear, but they are what she needs to hear. Emma wipes away the single tear the has fallen down her face.
“Thank you. I’ll have to think about it,” Emma nods. She makes sure she is presentable before going in to see Henry and Roland. She helps Anna out with their lesson for the day. Spending time with Henry is her greatest joy. She wants to create good moments with him because soon she’ll be gone and he will only have those moments to remember her by.
