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icecubelotr44 · 6 years ago

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Clear and Present Danger (3/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,250 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER THREE: Reasonable Suspicion

Killian’s ears were still ringing from the blow the woman had landed across his jaw. His lungs had only just started working again and he was sure that there would be bruises to hide from Liam in the morning. To say that she’d taken him by surprise was an understatement. He watched her carefully, the glint of the sun on the metal in her hand enough to keep him on edge.

“Gold… murdered someone,” Emma repeated, playing idly with the blade. It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded reluctantly anyway.

“I… I can’t prove it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his frustration at that before he continued. “Yet. The bloody crocodile was in the station when it happened and everything I’ve turned up is dead ends. But I know he was responsible. I know he killed her. And if you’re here to investigate him, then-”

“How do you know that I’m investigating him?” she asked, and he could hear the suspicion dripping off every word.

Killian shrugged. “You weren’t doing much to hide it. And there’s not much else going on in the office other than Gold’s hubris, lass. Not that would draw IA’s attention, anyway. But I meant what I said, you can’t trust Isaac. He’s so far into Gold’s pocket that I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same pants.”

The woman nodded. “I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

“Oh, you’re a tough lass.” Killian was thrilled to see her finally fold up the knife and stuff it into a pocket. “May I have the pleasure of your name now, Miss...?”

“Detective Swan,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Emma.”

Killian took her hand and, ignoring the widening of her eyes in surprise, pulled it up to kiss her knuckles in a show of exaggerated chivalry.

“Pleased to meet you, Swan,” he said over her knuckles, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “I think we’re going to make quite the team.”

She scoffed. “Who said I was going to work with you?”

“The way I see it, we’re looking for the same thing. We can either keep working separately, or” - he shrugged again, still refusing to let go of her hand - “we can pool our resources. Put Gold and whoever’s making it so easy for him to sit pretty in that office behind bars.”

Emma smiled sweetly, drawing a grin from him that he couldn’t help, before she struck, twisting his grip around until she had him shoved face first against the brick.

“Bloody-”

“Let’s get one thing straight, buddy,” she interrupted his cursing. “Your charm might work on someone else, but not me. You give me what you have on Gold and maybe… maybe I’ll think about keeping you in the loop. But I’m not going to just trust you because you say so. For all I know, you’re just as far into Gold’s pocket as your buddy Isaac.”

“I’d never be caught dead working with him,” Killian muttered against the wall, chagrined to realize that she had him completely incapacitated. “We’re on the same side, luv.”

“Not your love. You can call me Detective.” She released him as quickly as she’d restrained him, stepping back and glaring before he could even turn around. She was strong, she was guarded, and she was dangerous. But she wanted Gold behind bars and he’d worked with less in the past.

“Detective,” he allowed with a nod, “I think we can help each other. And you could use someone on the inside, yeah?”

He could see her mulling it over, the indecision written on her face as clearly as words on a page. There was something about her, despite the knife she’d pulled on him. He knew her job wasn’t easy, knew that the majority of their colleagues would rather vilify her than praise her for taking an impossible job and making it hers. But there was more than that hiding in the depths of her eyes. A deeper hurt that resonated with him. She had the look of someone who’d been thrown away like garbage and it made Killian all the more grateful to remember that Liam had always been there for him.

Even if he was going to take the long way home to avoid the Spanish Inquisition and resultant mollycoddling that was going to come the second Liam saw the bruise forming on his chin.

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, and Killian waited for her to make a decision.

He smiled in triumph a moment before she sighed. “I don’t like working with partners, Jones.”

Killian waited. She was going to let him help, he just had to be patient and not push it.

“But you’re right” - it sounded as if it cost her something to admit that - “that it wouldn’t hurt to have a set of eyes and ears that your coworkers wouldn’t expect. We do this my way, got it?”

“Of course, Swan. You’re in charge.” Killian held out his hand to shake hers again.

She glanced at it. “I’m not going to kiss your knuckles, you know.”

His answering grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt., but Emma didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Watch your back, all right?”

“I’ve got plenty of people in my corner who will do that for me, lass. Keep your eyes up, yeah?”

Killian thought he heard her mutter, “Must be nice,” before she disappeared around the corner. He nodded to himself, turning back to the main road and heading towards the subway station. There was a kernel of hope that hadn’t been there before, a tendril of possibility that Killian wanted to grab onto with both hands and tug. He wasn’t the only one anymore, the only one who saw Gold as more than just an untouchable and necessary evil. Still, they’d have to tread lightly. Gold wouldn’t hesitate to take them down to keep himself safe.

“Jones?” Locksley called, pulling Killian out of his thoughts. “What are you doing down here, mate? Get lost?”

Killian knew he was joking - mostly - but he could hear the worry in his tone. “Aye mate, thought I parked the Benz down here.” He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Robin’s hand to twitch towards the phone on his belt.

“Bugger off!” Robin spat when the grin on Killian’s face gave away the joke.

Killian sobered immediately at Locksley’s tone. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving out of the alley to catch up with his partner.

Robin glared at him before walking towards the subway station. “We were all worried, you know. You woke up in the ER and you didn’t know Liam.”

What?

Killian whipped his head around to catch Robin’s eye and he grabbed his partner’s arm when Locksley wouldn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Robin grumbled.

Some of Liam’s hovering over the past few weeks started to make more sense. His brother could give the fiercest mama bear a run for her money on a good day, so Killian hadn’t thought too much about it. He couldn’t have named the emotion half-hidden in Liam’s eyes every time he’d fussed over Killian, not then. But he also didn’t remember much between seeing Hades in the alley and waking up to Liam’s mother henning in the hospital room he’d suffered through forty-eight hours of observation with ill disguised grace.

Maybe not so much on the ‘disguised’ end of the spectrum.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered when Robin’s concerned stare went on too long.

His partner nodded. “We figured as much. And Liam said not to say anything when you woke up again and everything had seemed to settle.”

“Of course he did,” Killian mumbled under his breath amidst a sigh.

Fear. That was what Liam had been trying in vain to suppress. Killian had scared him again. While he remembered only a knock to the head, Liam had been forced to wait for him to wake up, not knowing if he’d remember his own brother when he did.

There had been plenty of scares in their careers - they were both police officers, after all - and injuries were par for the course. Both he and Liam had spent their share of sleepless nights at their brother’s bedside and the fear that came with that was all-encompassing, but mostly fleeting. It had to be, or they’d never get back out on the streets.

But Killian remembered when Liam had woken up shaking and couldn’t stop - not quite seizing, but close enough to send a tendril of pure terror coursing through him. He remembered how close he had stayed those first few weeks as the neurotoxin settled in Liam’s bloodstream and allowed him to resume most of his daily activities. He remembered that fear. That was what Liam had been dealing with over the last couple weeks as Killian recovered. The unknown quantity.

Didn’t mean that Killian wasn’t going to find a way to exact revenge for the super glue, though. It wouldn’t do to let Liam - and by extension, David - think they could get away with nonsense like that just because they were ‘older and wiser’ as it were.

He and Robin parted ways at the corner, the bustle of the city at rush hour serving to make the headache that Swan had exacerbated even worse. It would be sheer luck if Liam didn’t take one look at him and blow a gasket. He recalled a scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where Harry had been locked in his bedroom - it didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture Liam trying the same tactic.

Swan occupied his thoughts on the ride home, their two brief interactions playing on a loop as he pondered over her - who was she really? What made her tick? Why had she chosen to go into Internal Affairs? She was clearly tough enough to be on the streets and he didn’t think that outside perceptions of her would have swayed her away from a beat patrol before moving up the ranks.

What does she have on Gold?

Killian hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman since the day he’d first set eyes on Milah. He’d been sitting alone in Finnegan’s Tavern, a bottle of Sam Adams forgotten on the table in front of him and his brother off in another corner of the bar getting them something to eat. She’d been stunning to look at, sitting by herself as well and nursing a glass of wine as sharp eyes darted around the room. Her curls falling loose over her back, the lost look in her eyes, all of it intrigued him and he wanted to know more.

It hadn’t taken long for Killian to forget that Liam was even there with him; he’d approached her and been regretfully turned down that evening, but she hadn’t left his thoughts. Who was she and why did she look so sad?

Every minute with her was a gift - and Gold had torn it from his grasping fingers. She’d been Killian’s for a few precious-

“What the bloody hell happened?” The voice broke through his musings.

Killian sighed audibly. As expected, he’d barely managed to get the door open before Liam had pounced on him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only in deference to the headache, and waited for the inevitable inspection.

“You’re supposed to be on deskwork!” Liam stomped through the kitchen, reaching out to turn Killian’s head closer to the light. Killian hadn’t seen the bruise yet, but he could feel it - blood pooling hot and pulsing just under the skin of his jaw, a stark reminder of what it was to be on Emma Swan’s bad side. Liam poked at the bruise, drawing a hushed grunt of pain and - if possible - the frown on his brother’s face deepened to new levels.

Mindful of what Robin had let slip, Killian tolerated the inspection as patiently as he could manage, for as long as he could manage. It didn’t take too long before he was batting Liam’s prodding fingers away anyway. “It’s fine, brother. I spent the entire bloody day sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs like a good boy, all right?”

The smirk on Liam’s face flashed for only an instant before it was hidden behind a mask, but Killian didn’t miss it. He glared and pointedly didn’t mention the super glue nor the fact that he likely still smelled like nail polish remover. He just wanted a shower and some ibuprofen and something to drink.

“So how’d you get the bruise then?” Liam asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to poke and prod at it some more.

Killian moved safely out of reach before he snarked back. “I was attacked by a Swan on my way home. It took us awhile to come to an understanding.”

Liam just blinked. Killian waited just long enough to see the confusion start to turn to concern before he cracked a smile, waving his brother off and rooting through the fridge for a drink. The shower would have to wait until Liam was satisfied, but at least he could get rid of the cottony feeling in his mouth.

“Killian!”

He sighed. “Relax, brother. I’m fine. There’s an IA officer looking into Gold. She and I… we didn’t get off on the right foot, so when I went to try again…” he trailed off, waving over his jaw.

Liam snickered, a look on his face that left Killian’s ears red. “I assume you put things right, little brother?”

“Younger, Liam,” he whined, cringing a little at how petulant he sounded. It wasn’t a new argument and, truth be told, it wasn’t one Killian ever expected to win. He didn’t even mind too much when Liam didn’t acknowledge the ‘correct’ moniker as he moved to pull dinner out of the oven. It would be all too easy to make a remark about him becoming a good housewife and Killian patted himself on the back for not giving in to the temptation.

It was a close call, but he’d plan something better in retaliation for his desk.

Emma sunk into the steaming bath water with an audible sigh. She’d left the light off, several candles burning away merrily and filling the small room with soothing scents. There was a glass of wine on the bath caddy and a book lying face down that she only sort of intended to read. It didn’t take too long for the heat to seep into Emma’s muscles and she relaxed into a boneless heap in the water. However much she had intended to leave work at work, she couldn’t get that interaction with Jones out of her head. She had no reason to feel bad; he’d been sneaking up on her, she had plenty of experience with loyal cops showing her how they felt about her investigations, he’d been sneaking up on her.

And yet.

Killian Jones was far more than a pretty face. If he was telling her the truth, he’d been grievously wronged by Gold and could be a valuable asset in her investigation. The key was to get in and get out without getting attached. He was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more. His sarcastic quips and the over-the-top chivalry weren’t going to change anything - she was at the precinct to do a job and that was it.

Bringing someone like Gold to justice would more than make her career. It would make the other detectives start to take her seriously, a woman in a man’s world. She would love nothing more than to wipe the indulgent smirks off the faces of the men in her office. It might be nice to be able to peek out of the armor a little bit. Occasionally.

The water slowly cooled and her glass ran dry, but Emma still lingered in the half haze of sleep that she’d slipped into. It was simple here, in the sanctuary of her apartment, away from all the drama and the politics and the intrigue of her cases and her interoffice relationships. She didn’t have to hide behind the mask she’d crafted or question every interaction she had. Here, there was just her and the safety of her loneliness.

When the water was finally a few degrees too cold to be comfortable, Emma stood and wrapped herself in a towel. She tried not to bring her work home with her; it was hard enough to deal with it during work hours. But with the addition of Jones to her arsenal - and her constant thoughts, it seemed - she’d have to come up with a new plan of attack. Emma wasn’t used to having to consider another person on her side in her investigations. They’d tried to rope her into working with a partner before but it never stuck. They were too inept or she was too prickly, too stubborn, too set in her ways to listen to their ideas.

It was better if she worked alone, that was all there was to it.

Over the next few days, Emma did what Emma did best: she ignored Killian Jones completely. She had plenty of interviews to conduct and spent half of her time driving across the state to follow up with the men and women Gold had put behind bars as well as some he hadn’t. They all had precisely the same thing to say about him.

Absolutely nothing.

Emma didn’t need her ‘super power’ to tell that they were - to the very last man - terrified to speak out against Gold. Someone had gotten to them before her and had bought their silence. It left her irritable and exhausted, unwilling to play the game when Isaac cornered her in the bullpen to “see what she needed.”

She needed to punch someone in the face.

As it was, putting her fist across Isaac’s jaw probably wouldn’t do anything but get her suspended and put the investigation that much further behind. Instead, she plastered on a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough to pass muster and asked for another batch of files that had nothing to do with Gold or the charges against him, hoping that the little weasel would run back to his master and crow about her apparent ineptitude. She’d have to steer the investigation formally towards Gold at some point, but she needed something concrete to go on before then. All she had right now were allegations and rumors that were - so far - unfounded. Emma didn’t believe for a moment that the accusations listed in her file were false, but she needed to find some kind of evidence. Even the evidence from the investigation into Milah Gold was hazy at best and - as Jones had said - didn’t point to Gold’s involvement at all.

The case had, very pointedly in fact, implicated Killian Jones in her murder. Even if Emma hadn’t heard it in his voice the day she’d nearly knocked him out in that alley, she was no longer uncertain about how much Jones had loved Milah. It was written all over the interrogations, the track the evidence had taken, in every entry from the detective who’d investigated. Killian had been cleared quickly - which surprised Emma given Gold’s power - but the damage must have been done.

The problem was, it was all too clean. There was no way that the woman’s brake lines had been cut and no one had been spotted near her car in the police station’s parking garage. The video surveillance gave Emma - and anyone else who had investigated, namely K. Jones on a near-weekly schedule - a perfect view of Milah’s car. Emma watched as the woman got out of the vehicle and walked out of frame, then stared at nothing of note for the half hour she’d been gone, and finally saw her come back to her car and drive away.

All of it was too clean. Every case that Gold had closed, every murderer that he’d convicted, on paper they were all perfectly by the book. Every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed. On paper, there was no reason to suspect that he’d ever stepped a toe across the line. But all it took was one look at him to know that he was dirty. All it took was one readthrough of the case file that had been compiled to get the sick feeling in her stomach. Gold needed to be tried for his crimes and, hopefully, the evidence against him would be compelling enough that not even whoever was backing him would come out with their hands clean.

That was Emma’s job, and she looked forward to the end results. She did not, however, enjoy the monotony that came with trying to keep her investigation under wraps. She had Isaac pull Jones’s case files today, trying to get a glimpse into the lieutenant’s process in attempts to understand him better. The mole at her side grinned snidely when he’d commented that it was only a matter of time before Jones was investigated.

“His promotion was a little too convenient,” he crowed before elbowing her in the side in apparent camaraderie, “if you know what I mean.”

Emma stepped pointedly away and resisted the urge to roll her shoulder and stretch where he’d impacted her ribs. Instead, she smiled in feigned interest and cocked her head to the side. “Oh, really?” she asked, hoping Isaac would latch on to the ruse.

He did.

“Oh yes, I could tell you all about Lieutenant Jones and how he came to be in our humble department. Did you know that he was still on patrol just over a year ago?”

She hadn’t.

“Captain Gold requested that his promotion track be accelerated personally. I’ve never understood it, of course. Jones is nothing but a problem. The captain tolerates him, but if you ask me, there’s something fishy about it, because the two of them… well, to say they’re like cats and dogs would be insulting to those poor animals. And yet…” Isaac trailed off meaningfully, his eyes tracking across the bullpen to where Jones had just entered. Instead of finishing his statement, he just shrugged as if the lieutenant’s presence was answer enough.

It didn’t make any sense. From what she could tell, Jones was a Boy Scout. She wouldn’t be surprised to find an Eagle Scout award in his history. She’d known there was no way that he was being backed by Gold - even before she knew what she did about his history with the captain’s former wife. But the mysterious benefactor… Emma didn’t know anything about him. Yet. It was possible that Gold was just an unfortunate middle man, or that they were both trying to force Jones into a position where he couldn’t get free of them. It was possible, she supposed, that Jones was in on the whole thing and was playing her to get information.

Even as she thought it, the voice inside her head laughed at her. No, Jones wasn’t involved with Gold or his backer. If he was, then she would turn in her badge and gun and take up a job at the local Walmart. Emma wasn’t good at people, but she was good at reading them. It made her successful as a detective and horrible to play poker against, but she’d take the former over the latter any time. A cop who couldn’t trust her gut was a dead cop and Emma liked breathing too much not to hone that skill.

Emma focused on Isaac’s retreating back as he headed for the file room - now he was definitely working for Gold, and not in the official capacity. She’d do anything to have him far away from her and her investigation, if only for the drop in stress that would entail.

She almost missed the note on her desk, tucked away under the file marked K. Jones that she’d purposely left out. Who had been near her desk? And what did they want?

Atlantis Marina, 8pm tonight.

It’ll be worth it.

Emma supposed she’d have to go to the marina to find out. She wasn’t naive, but she wasn’t cautious by nature, either. She would, however, be there well before eight in order to get the lay of the land.

Emma worked for a few more hours, digging into Killian’s past just in case her gut was wrong. She finally dug past the insubordination claims that Gold seemed to file on a regular basis and burrowed deep enough into his file to find a redacted report of drunk and disorderly conduct that had never been closed or prosecuted. Further digging, however, revealed that the date of the report coincided with the date of Milah Gold’s funeral, so Emma put it out of her mind. If the man needed a little bit of liquid courage to say goodbye to a woman he clearly loved, then who was she to judge him?

Five o’clock came all too suddenly and Emma locked up the files she didn’t plan on taking home with her before signing out the ones she did. With evening traffic, it could take twenty minutes or it could take forever to get to the marina, and she wanted plenty of time to walk the perimeter and see if she could get an upper hand on whoever had left the note for her. At the very least, she wanted escape routes and a good vantage point of the entrance before whoever planned on meeting her showed up. Emma texted the address to Ruby and Dorothy in case she needed back up, but declined their offer to come down and stake out the place. She had a sneaking suspicion as to whose handwriting that had been, and didn’t think she’d need any of the precautions she was taking.

But Emma had been burned before.

The marina was well maintained. The lights in the parking area and along the docks provided very few shadows that someone could ambush her from and there were men and women in security uniforms patrolling the docks at random intervals. Emma found that she already had a reserved parking space in the guest lot, and the attendant there knew who she was - pointing out that the boat she was looking for was in its slip on B-dock.

The Jolly Roger.

Emma could see it from where she was standing on another dock - she wasn’t entirely sure which dock it was - sitting jauntily in the water and inviting her to come aboard. As if a boat could be jaunty and inviting. There were lights on in the… she thought it was called a cockpit but wouldn’t lay money down on it. But no one was aboard.

It wasn’t new by any means, but it was clearly well cared for. The hull gleamed in the lights and the name on the back was crisp-lettered and pristine. There were a few dings here and there along the hull and the railing, but the metal shined and the windows were streak-free. She had a feeling that whoever owned the boat would be put off by the small imperfections, but was clearly proud of his - or her - ownership.

“You can see her up close, if you like,” Jones’s voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, fists up and ready to defend herself. There was a moment of terrifying weightlessness as she stepped back, expecting her foot to impact solid wood and instead finding open air. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat even as she flailed and caught Killian’s outstretched hands. He pulled her close and Emma latched onto his shoulders, fingers tight in his leather jacket as she tried to convince herself that she was on solid ground again.

“Damnit, Jones!” she shouted in his face. He was terrifyingly close.

He shrugged, the muscles under her fingers bunching with the movement. She realized, a bit belatedly, that she still hadn’t let go of him. Nor he of her. Emma shoved him back, putting enough space in between them that her heart finally started to slow down. It rankled her a bit that he didn’t stumble, just swayed with the push and stood tall.

She glared at him. “I could have fallen in!”

Killian just smirked, something dangerous in his eyes. “That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You wish, buddy.”

He finally stepped back, although Emma got the feeling he’d have stayed there if he thought he could get away with it. He clasped his hands behind his back, instead, and rocked back on his heels. “I meant what I said, though. You can see her up close, if you like.”

Emma just looked at him in askance.

“You… you did get my note, didn’t you?”

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“I signed it,” he explained with a funny little grin, taking the note from her and smoothing it out against his leg. “See?”

Emma looked where he’d turned the paper over, the small caricature of a hook and a swan in the bottom corner. She’d seen the drawing, of course, but she still didn’t understand. She stared at him incredulously, before asking again, “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly sign my own name, could I?” Jones shrugged. “Not with your little shadow combing every piece of paper on your desk at all times. It’s all very cloak and dagger, you see, and who’s better at that than a pirate?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to the nameplate on the back of Killian’s boat. “You had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan as a child, didn’t you?”

“Never liked the little demon,” he replied, matter of fact. “Always thought that Captain Hook was the hero of that fairy tale.”

“Even with the waxed moustache and the perm?”

Killian smirked. “You never read the book, did you? Captain Hook was devilishly handsome, after all. Like me,” he preened a little.

Emma just shook her head. He didn’t need the ego boost - clearly. “So what are we doing here, Jones?”

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention. You’ve been avoiding me, lass.” Killian shrugged. “I thought…”

“We can’t exactly be seen working together,” Emma defended her actions. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She totally had.

One of Killian’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “You might find this a surprising attribute in a detective, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive and this” - he gestured between them - “this is avoiding me.”

Emma nodded in spite of herself. There was no use denying what was painfully obvious anyway. “So… what? You thought you’d lure me here with a mystery and…” she shrugged emphatically, waiting for an explanation.

The tips of Killian’s ears went a little bit pink. “One of the first things my brother taught me after I graduated the academy was to limit the amount of work I brought home with me. I know that with Isaac lurking about you’re probably trying to throw him off and that’s got to be exhausting. I thought that you… that we could use the Jolly as some kind of, I don’t know, an in between or something.”

Emma blinked.

Killian just shrugged. “I want to help, Swan. I need to help put him away. For Milah. For… for me. We can’t exactly advertise that we’re working together, I get that. But I can help you.”

There was a reason Emma didn’t work with a partner. She did her own thing, her own way, on her own terms. The only one who she risked being hurt was her and the only one who was responsible for the outcome of her cases was her. She had worked with someone else a time or two, but not since she’d moved to Internal Affairs; she found it just wasn’t worth it.

But maybe just this once, with a case this big and a willing pawn in Killian Jones, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The appeal of having someplace away from both prying eyes and her own sanctuary was strong. Part of Emma still balked - she was better off alone, history had shown her that time and time again - but she pushed past it for the sake of her case.

“All right, Jones, let’s see this boat of yours.”

It didn’t take them long to cover the entirety of the aft cabin in paperwork. Liam would have a fit if he decided to take her out for more than a brief afternoon, but seeing Gold’s demise come together piece by piece was worth the strife Killian knew he’d hear about. Emma had already cobbled together a timeline of Gold’s career, listing cases and complaints alike along with his promotions and the men and women he’d promoted himself.

Killian bristled when he saw his own name listed, the blue star next to his name signifying Gold’s personal involvement in the transfer. “Swan, just so you know, this wasn’t… I didn’t…” he trailed off, still looking at his name on the timeline and uncertain how to explain.

Emma slid another paper over the top of that one, this one listing unsolved cases that Gold had sent to the Cold Case division. “You can tell me in your own time,” she allowed with a small smile.

He nodded. Killian couldn’t deny that the promotion had been a bit of grabbing the tiger by the tail. He knew Gold had it out for him, would try his best to make Killian’s life miserable. But Liam and David had already been in Homicide before Milah’s death and Killian had longed for the chance to work beside his brother. Then he’d met Milah and thought that the price he would have to pay for falling for her was his dream of being partnered with Liam. After her murder, he’d stopped caring how he got to Liam’s side, he just knew he couldn’t do it anymore without his brother. Any of it. The transfer had seemed like the universe paying him back - a little - for stealing Milah from him. And then Liam had been injured because of him and now… well, now it was all about taking down Gold. Killian couldn’t deny that he didn’t really care what happened to his career after that.

Or to himself.

Maybe he should take Liam up on that offer to move to the private sector, after all.

“Are you even listening, Jones?” Emma’s annoyed question made him realize she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

He shook his head apologetically, scratching behind one ear and attempting a smirk. He could feel how forced it was and the look on Emma’s face proved that she wasn’t buying it either. “Apologies, lass, I got a bit caught up in my head.”

“I said, it’s getting late and we should probably get out of here. Do we need to pack this up, or…” she looked at him in askance.

Killian shook his head. “No. No one but myself and my brother have keys to the cabins and I’ll let him know that this is all here.” He groaned internally at the idea of telling Liam about all this - the mess and what he was about to do next. Regardless of Liam’s opinion on the matter, however, he reached into his pocket and handed her a keychain with a pirate ship on it.

Emma stared at it for a moment.

“It’s not going to bite you, lass. I just thought that…” he shrugged. “Well, you need access to the cabin and I might not always be able to get you here. Smee is the parking attendant you met earlier; he knows to let you have the guest parking space whenever you’d like it and you’re on the list of approved guests with access to the boat. No one will bother you.”

She finally reached out and snagged the key, turning the little ship over in her hands. “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Emma asked with a smirk that made the tips of Killian’s ears go hot.

“The appeal of Neverland as a child - an escape where time would stop and I could have all the time in the world to figure out how to get what I wanted - it was intoxicating. I guess it’s never really left me.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “Although I still think the bloody demon of that island would have made life miserable there.”

Emma laughed, finally putting the key in her pocket after further inspection. She followed him out onto the deck, but didn’t make a move to climb onto the dock again.

“And what did a young Killian Jones want that he couldn’t have?” she asked lightly, a glint of something in her eyes that Killian wanted to understand.

He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance. That wasn’t a tale he was ready to get into yet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he deflected instead.

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that told Killian she might just understand what it was he and Liam had been searching for all those years - a home.

“Perhaps I would.”

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs fic #captain swan fic #cs ff #ouat ff

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