#but considering i still have to write chapter 12 that might not be much ooops

[killiancygnus]

Serendipitous Melody 9/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~2.7k

A/N:   It’s show time on Serendipitous Melody this week, are you excited? If you are, I hope you like this chapter and if you don’t...well, I hope you’ll like it anyway :). Huge thanks to @londonsbridge and @the-reason-to-sail-home, my woderful friends and betas, for helping me with the editing and to all the CS Writers’ Hub ladies. 

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending, @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @kmomof4, @hencethebravery, @katie-dub, @captainwiley, @irishswanff, @thejollypirate, @mahstatins, @dassala, @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans, @legendofthephoenixcs and @csreviews

If you want to be tagged too let me know :)

(Songs in this chapter are: “Animals” by Maroon 5 and “Paradise” by Coldplay.)

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 / AO3

Killian was going to see Emma for the first time after that amazing kiss that morning, but he wasn’t nervous. Nope, not at all. Or that was what he had been telling himself. Yes because, he’d actually been tense from the time he got to work, legs going all jittery from time to time, and eyes looking down at the watch on his wrist every few minutes.

His hopes to have some kind of interaction with her right after Peter’s rehearsal got crushed when the chief sound technician asked to have a word with him about some adjustments they had to make for the following day. It took him so long, that he barely had the time to sit cross legged on the stage’s floor as the beats of Coldplay’s “Paradise” were resounding already from the speakers.

When he chose to pair her up against Peter he was sure she could beat him easily, however, considering his determination and the progress he’d made in the last couple of weeks, Killian wasn’t so sure anymore. And from the look on Emma’s face, things were starting to take a bad turn for her. She seemed weirdly distant, more out of sorts than what he had expected. He had figured there’d have been a bit of awkwardness, but not this. She made mistakes she had never made before: she missed her cue, forgot the lyrics a couple of times, and even repeated the refrain when she wasn’t supposed to. And then, as soon as the time was up, she flew away barely saying goodbye.

Saying he was worried was an understatement. But the problem was that no matter how badly he wanted to take her afflictions away, he didn’t know from where he could possibly start.

When Emma got back home, she let her body fall on the couch, her eyes roaming the ceiling. How she managed not to crash her car on the way home was a mystery to her, shaken as she still was by Peter’s words.

How could he know?

In a matter of days two people, who shouldn’t have known anything about her and her past, deliberately mentioned it. It couldn’t be just a coincidence. After all, Killian didn’t look surprised when she told him about her childhood. Perhaps Peter could read her as easily as Killian could?

No, that couldn’t be it. Peter must have found it out somehow. Killian and she had a connection that was something rare, she couldn’t deny it.

Putting her face in her hands she let out a long sigh. She could think about how Peter could have possibly gotten that information for as long as she wished, but it was unlikely she’d find an answer. She could stress herself out to exhaustion and risk letting him win, or she could put all those feelings in a box to be stored in a corner of her mind and fight, give everything she had on that stage the following day.

The second option was by far the best she had.

Emma played nervously with her nails as she watched Peter start to sing from one of the stage doors. The music was loud there, making her heart beat so fast she could feel it trying to escape from her chest.

He was good, really good. Which might be a problem for her, but as soon as he reached the refrain, that became the last of her problems. Yes, because that's when he subtly started directing glances at her general direction whenever he sung a specific verse.

Maybe you think that you can hide

I can smell your scent from miles…

A shiver run down her spine. Was he implying that he had been following her? And if he did, why would he do that? They talked once! He didn't know her.

She didn't have much time to think about what he could possibly want from her that it was the time for her to go on stage. As Peter walked backstage from one of the opposite doors, Emma took a deep breath, passed her hands on her gorgeous red chiffon dress to brush away some barely existing wrinkles and tucked a rebellious lock of hair inside the messy side braid resting on her shoulder.

Slowly, she followed a path of small white lights to the dimly lit stage, which in the meantime had been covered with smoke. A single microphone on its stand was waiting for her, emerging from the white puffs of air that hid her heels from everybody's eyes. It was like she was walking on a cloud, a big, puffy white one, the kind of clouds you would see floating in the sky on a sunny day of spring.

As she approached the centre of the stage, her gaze lowered to Killian’s cerulean eyes, which color was enhanced by the contrast between the darkness surrounding the room and the rays of bright white light coming from the spotlights. She had been so lost in the blues of his eyes, that she barely noticed the reassuring nod he gave her as a soft encouraging smile spread on his face. As the corners of her mouth curved up in a small smile in return, Emma closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to clear her mind and concentrate.

When the first notes of “Paradise” resounded in her in-ear monitors, Emma kept her eyes closed, patiently waiting for her cue. She thought of her childhood; the memories of a time when the only person she could count on was herself. When no one was there to give her an hug after a long stressful day, no one who loved her. No one who would be there after she made a mistake, no one who would help her fight her battles, no one willing to protect a child from the bullies, no one who cared. She forgot about everything that had been bothering her before, and she started to sing.  

When she was just a girl she expected the world

But it flew away from her reach and the bullets catch in her teeth

Life goes on, it gets so heavy

The wheel breaks the butterfly every tear a waterfall

In the night the stormy night she'll close her eyes

In the night the stormy night away she'd fly

She let herself go, all the heartache, the loneliness, the pain from those days pouring out from her lips, permeating the words she was singing. She didn’t care about the audience, the cameras or the coaches. Nor did she realise the effect her interpretation was having on the people around her. Her soft, silvery voice tugged everyone’s heartstrings, lulling their souls with a beautiful melancholy.

It was only when her last vocalisation echoed in the room that she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Killian, grinning proudly at her and eyes misty, then her eyes focused on Ariel, who was brushing away the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. The cheering of the public was deafening and, as she brought the mic to her lips to mutter a “thank you,” she couldn't help her cheeks from turning bright pink.  

As the audience quieted down, Emma caught a glimpse of Belle walking up to her from backstage, followed by a sour-faced Peter.

“Well,” Belle started, stopping next to Emma at the center of the stage. “That was a great start! Congratulation to you both. Now that there are only sixteen of you left, going further into the competition is getting harder for you, but you’re not the only ones under pressure. In fact, tonight, the burden of choosing who will win a ticket for the Semifinals of Enchanted and who will have to leave the show, rests on the shoulders off all four coaches.”

The theater became oddly quiet as Belle gave her speech. The cloud of tension that fell on the studio grew thicker when, seconds later, the screen covering the wall at the back of the stage lit up, showing both Peter and Emma’s names written over two big zeros. At the sight of it on a hidden monitor placed over the judges chairs, Emma’s stomach tied in a knot for the nerves.

“Let’s start from one of the ladies. Tink. What did you think of Peter and Emma’s performances and to whom your vote goes to.”

Tink sit up on her chair, and after thinking for a couple of seconds about what to say, she started, “I loved both your performances, even though they were completely different. Peter, I appreciated the energy you put into your performance; it was clear that you are in your natural element when onstage. As for you Emma, you were absolutely amazing. In my opinion, what distinguishes a real artist from everyone else is their ability to externalise their emotions through their music, building a deep emotional connection with the audience. That’s what you did tonight Emma, and for this reason my vote goes to you.”

There was an eruption of cheers and a few boos, as a silver one papered on the screen under Emma’s name with a pling. Emma bit her lip in embarrassment, trying - in vain - to hold back a grin from spreading on her lips. Then, holding the microphone up with slightly shaky hands, she muttered a barely audible “thank you” right before Belle handed it over to Robin.

“Even though I loved Emma’s performance, my vote goes to Peter.”

As soon as the words left his lips a roar of boos came from from the majority of the audience. Robin put a finger on his mouth asking them to quiet down.

“Both their performances were flawless, but I think that a singer also needs to be a bit of a showman. You know, dancing around, interacting with the people around them. You still have to work on that Emma, but you don't Peter. That's the reason behind my decision.”

While the score changed again on the screen in the background, a few whistles of disappointment could be heard among the fake cheers.

“I guess it’s my turn now,” Ariel observed once the hoots died down, and then spoke directly at Emma, “I think you noticed the tears on my face earlier. Your interpretation was so unique and beautiful, and that’s because you poured your soul in those lyrics. So my vote goes to you, Emma.”

“Wonderful! That’s two votes for Emma and one for Peter,” Belle announced as another round of applause rose from the audience, “Anything can still happen though, as Killian’s vote will count double, since he’s been the one to guide both Peter and Emma on this journey. Killian, it’s up to you now.”

“Seems like it is, yeah,” Killian acknowledged, for then falling quiet as he looked for the right words to say, “This is extremely hard because you both deserve to get to the semifinals. Alas, only one of you can. You would think that being their coach, I already know how good their performance will be. And most of the times you’d be right, but not always. There are always exceptions, you see; and among these exceptions the ones which leave me positively surprised are always the rarest. Tonight one of those exceptions, who surprised me not only once, but thrice, is standing right in front of me. And it’s for this reason that my vote goes to Emma Swan.”

Emma couldn’t believe his words. She was so stunned that she barely registered Belle complimenting her and the loud whoops of the audience. She did it. Again. She never thought she would come so far in this competitions, but here she was, the first semifinalist of Enchanted. And Killian, he looked so proud, somehow.

Noticing a crew member gesturing her to get backstage, Emma came out for her stupor. She thanked both the judges and the audience, and the headed towards the door, not after giving an apologetic smile to Peter for the cameras.

The shootings had just ended, when Emma walked in front of the coaches changing rooms on her way to the exit.

It wasn’t that it had taken her more time than usual to change back into her clothes, on the contrary, she had been quite happy to get off those ridiculously high heels and put back on her boots. It was just that, after she saw Peter leaving the studios rather quickly, she had decided to stay and watch Elsa’s performance, which of course was the last one of the day. It was going to be a nice distraction from everything that had happened to her lately. Were she alone at home, her mind would have probably wondered in places that were less than welcome at the moment. Like Peter words, Felix’ case, Killian and that amazing kiss from a couple of nights before. However, right after she’d shared a celebratory hug with Elsa, who also won against Leroy, exhaustion started to settle in her bones. Cutting the conversation with a more than excited Elsa short, Emma grabbed her purse and left waving her friend goodbye.

As soon as Emma took a turn at the end of the corridor, her body collided against something solid, but at the same time soft, covered with black cotton.

“Sorry, lass.”

At the sound of Killian’s voice her head snapped up in surprise.

God, this is going to be so awkward.

“Oh, ehm, hi,” she breathed out as their eyes met, and then continued, tucking her head down in embarrassment, “It’s okay. I’m sorry too, I wasn’t really looking were I was going.”

“Swan? Are you alright?” Killian said, looking at her as if he were trying to read the answer in her eyes.

“I am,” she replied, brushing him off, and eyed the door at behind him, ready to run, “I’m just tired.”

Killian rose his left eyebrow skeptically, and then he reached down for her hand to stop her for going away.  

“Hey,” he said softly, “I know something is off. You can tell me, if you want.”

“I…” Emma hesitated, biting her lip as she thought of what to do. She was almost ready to free herself from his hold and leave, when the words came out from her mouth as if they had a life of their own, “I talked with Peter yesterday before my rehearsal...We had never met before and somehow he knew I’m an orphan. And then as he sung earlier, he kept glancing at me during the refrain as if I were the prey to hunt down. He called me Lost Girl like Felix did at the pub, Killian. I just don’t know what to think.”

Killian’s eyes widened a touch at the revelation. He looked like he’d just got revealed the key answer to solve a complicated puzzle, and in some way he had.

Suddenly, he tugged at her hand and pulled her body to his, embracing her in a hug.

Shocked by the gesture, Emma let him hold her. She rested her head on his solid chest and breathed him in. As he started drawing small circles on her waist, he rested his chin on top of her head and whispered softly her name and “everything will be alright”s.

They stayed in each other’s arms for what seemed like hours, until the sound of a door slamming open and the ticking of someone’s heels on the floor, made them jump apart.

“Jones.”

Killian moved a touch on the right making her see the woman who had just spoke. She definitely looked like a businesswoman with that black sheath and serious attire.

“Regina, what are you doing here?” Killian asked the woman, moving a little closer to Emma as if to protect her.

“I had a meeting with the production,” she explained matter-of-factly, and then continued, giving Emma a disdainful look, “I was coming to get you so we could talk on the way home, but I see you’re otherwise occupied. Come to my office at ten sharp on monday morning, Killian. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan.”

And with that she left.