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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Rising from the Ashes (10/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Thank you to @theonceoverthinker for taking the time to write an incredible fic recommendation for this story! 10 Reasons Why You Should be Reading Rising from the Ashes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

“We need to get dressed,” Emma whispers to him, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t unwrap her arm from his waist or move her cheek away from where it’s pressed into his chest, right over the beat of his heart. He wouldn’t normally think of that, but he knows that she has to feel how quickly it’s beating right now.

It could beat out of his chest.

“We need to talk.”

“I know,” she admits, twisting her head and smattering kisses against his chest, against all of the skin and scars and hair that reside there. It feels so damn good to have her pressed up against him again, and he never wants it to stop. He never wants to let go. “And this is such a crappy thing to do, but we probably have to put it off until tonight. We’ve got…it’s not going to be easy, and I don’t think we can get it done before Ada wakes up.”

She makes a good point. He hates that for a few moments he forgot their daughter, but she wasn’t exactly what was on his mind while he was having sex with her mother. That’s how she was created, but still. His mind had been lost in the emotion of it all, in the emotion and ecstasy of having Emma back in his arms. It was his fault that she’d left, but he’s slowly making his way back to realizing that he never should have done that. And it’s not a flittering thought followed by the argument, the contrasting thoughts keeping him in an unescapable limbo. It’s what he thinks and how he feels. He can’t not have his partner back by his side, but he knows that they need to talk, that it’s not all solved.

They just can’t have this talk right now.

“Why don’t we clean up a bit, get dressed, and then grab Ada before heading back downstairs to sit with Neal for a little while, though I really want to talk about some of the stuff you said about him earlier. That’s – it was fucked up, and we’re not going to ghost over it.”

“Later,” she promises, and he knows that she means it. They’re finished not talking things through. That’s not them, and they’re going to fix it, fix them. “We’ll talk about everything later. You can make a list on your phone since I know that you want to.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but it feels so damn good for you to be teasing me again.”

“It does,” she sighs, kissing up his neck and his jaw before she briefly brushes her lips over his, vibrations moving all the way down to his toes. “I’m going to fix my hair and, well, my face and change back into my old clothes, okay? I don’t really want Neal to know that we weren’t just talking.”

“Swan, I think he knows that we’ve had sex.”

She groans before rolling off of the bed, the soft curves of her skin on full display to him as she picks up clothes from the floor, tossing his back to him before she disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her while the water of the sink runs. He’s not entirely sure that he can get up now, not with the lingering ecstasy and the slight shake in his limbs. He’s got more thoughts running through his mind than before, which he always thought was an impossibility. There’s so much to say, so much to unpack.

So little time and yet all of the time in the world in front of him.

Slowly, he gets up and off the bed as well, finding one of Ada’s baby wipes and cleaning himself up before he gets dressed, straightening up his clothes and his hair while looking into the mirror to make sure that nothing is too messed up. His collarbone is a little red from Emma’s lips and teeth, but the collar of his shirt covers it anyways. It’s been a hell of a long time since they had to hide the fact that they had sex from an adult. Henry? Sure. But someone over the age of thirty, not so much. It’s idiotic, but it’s also the slightest bit thrilling.

Even in his head he knows that’s immature, that it’s petty. He and Neal aren’t in some kind of competition to win Emma. She’s not a prize to be won. Her heart can be won, but only with her permission, and he’s lucky enough to have gained that a long time ago.

-/-

“It’s like a swampland out here,” Emma complains as they walk back to her apartment, Henry in between them with his hands in each of theirs. “We have got to find another public pool.”

“I like that pool, Momma.”

“I know, Henry,” she sighs before letting go of Henry’s hand to grab the key so she can unlock the front door. The lad is dragging a bit, so he picks him up and rests him on his hip. He’s getting bigger, but it’ll be years before Killian can’t carry him anymore. Or at least until he can’t carry him for long distances. “We had a fun day today, didn’t we? Killian taught you how to dive.”

“I was like a fish,” Henry shouts, throwing his hands up in the air so that he has to dodge to keep from getting punched by a kid. “Did you see me look like a fish, Killy?”

“I did, lad,” he promises, hoisting Henry up a little more while they finally get back into the apartment. “You did so well, even when you almost lost your swim trunks.”

“That was funny.”

“Indeed it was.”

“Alright, we’ve got to get you in the bathtub so that you can be a clean fish,” Emma tells them as she puts the tote bags they brought to the pool with them down in the entryway, sand likely somehow in them despite the pool only having the one sand pit play area.

“I’m already clean.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,” Henry huffs, and he braces himself for the tantrum that is inevitably going to come. It usually does on long days like this, and he was wondering when it was going to happen. “I don’t want a bath.”

“You’re taking a bath,” Emma says flatly, rolling her eyes a bit before she takes Henry out of his arms despite the squirming that’s happening. He could knock teeth out with those limbs. “Babe, do you want to find something for dinner while I handle the sea monster?”

“Are you sure, love? I can help.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she promises, her lips forming in a soft smile while Henry’s protests get a little louder. Emma’s mood is about to sour because of this, but he already knows that she’s going to get it all done by herself. She’s a wonderful mum, a super one really, and as much as he’s been a part of Henry’s life for years, it’s only in the past four months that he’s truly gotten to see much more of what Emma goes through being a parent. She told him before, let him help before, but he finds that when he wakes up at three in the morning because Henry’s had a bad dream and needs to tell his mum about it, he really gets to see the intimacy and trust Emma and Henry share.

Being with Emma, really and honestly being with her, since May has been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him, if not the greatest. She’s so bloody wonderful, and getting to show and tell her that is a great honor to him. He loves her more than anything, and even if they haven’t said it yet, he’s thankful to love and to be loved in return.

He’s forever thankful that he gets to be a part of Emma and Henry’s lives even when he can hear Henry having a meltdown from the bathroom.

The kid has some lungs on him.

While Emma is bathing Henry, he pulls the chicken out of the fridge and chops it up so he can make fajitas for them. It’s quick, easy, and they can give Henry the chicken without worrying about him spilling it or not liking it. The lad’s a rather picky eater, and he probably gets that from Emma. He didn’t go out to eat a lot with Neal, the two of them mostly staying at the gym or in bars, but he doesn’t remember him ever not liking anything. He usually liked just about everything. Maybe Henry will be like that someday.

He turns on the stove and drops some chopped up onions and peppers in the pan before adding the chicken, listening to it sizzle as the cries from the bathroom calm down. Henry’s either worn himself out, the day in the sun finally getting to him, or Emma’s struck some kind of fear into the lad with one of her stares. He’d bet it’s that the kid is tired, but he doesn’t know.

Twenty minutes later he’s got the food all set up on the counter, Henry’s plate already fixed, and Emma and Henry walk down the hallways and turn into the kitchen. Henry’s already got on his new Ninja Turtles pajamas, and his hair is lying flat on his head while it dries. Emma looks like she’s run a marathon today, and he knows that they’re going to be in bed the moment Henry is asleep.

Dinner goes without too much issue. Henry is definitely still in a mood, but he’s not flinging food anywhere or screaming, so honestly, he takes it as a win for today. Sometimes it’s the small things. But within the hour, he and Emma have Henry in bed, having read him a story and tucked him in, and just like he thought, the moment Emma gets to her room, she collapses on her mattress, spreading out like a starfish.

“Why do we take him to do fun things when it ends like that?” she moans, the tiredness seeping through every word.

“Because it’s nice when he’s not tired.”

“I don’t remember. I’ve blocked all happiness out for the disaster was giving him a bath.”

He hums as he takes off the shorts he’s had on all day and grabs the pajama pants that he keeps over here, pulling them up and letting them rest on his hips while he sheds his shirt and tosses it into Emma’s hamper. They didn’t talk about him staying over tonight, but he has every night this week. He doubts tonight will be any different.

“Well, darling,” he sighs, walking over to her and leaning down above her so that he can brush his lips over hers, nipping at her upper lip with his teeth, “you shouldn’t do that. Henry had a grand time today, you too, and you should remember that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Are you going to throw your own fit?”

“Yes,” she huffs, and he brushes his lips over hers again before moving up her face and ending at her forehead, the awkwardness of kissing her upside down fading the slightest bit. “It’s my life, and I can whine if I want to.”

“That’s not how the song goes.”

“It’s how my song goes.” She rolls over on the bed and over to what he’s come to know as her side before he sits down on the mattress, getting himself comfortable before Emma leans over and wraps her arms around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for being awesome today and every day really. I know dating me likely wasn’t your life plan.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” he sighs, threads his fingers into the ends of her hair and brushes through the tangles that have gathered from a day in the pool. “I think I signed up for this a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but that was back before Henry could talk while he was throwing fits. Back then it was just incoherent screaming.”

“Swan, I promise I don’t mind. I love you both, and I will listen to the fits as much as I have to.” Emma tenses under his touch, her entire body going still and her arms tightening around his waist. He’s not sure what’s just happened, so he timidly looks down at Emma, using his free hand to tilt her chin up at him. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Nothing,” she lies.

“Would you like to try that again?”

“I d-don’t – ” she stutters, her eyes closing before they open back up again. “Did you just say that you love me?”

“I – ” Oh hell, he did. He wasn’t going to do it that way. He was going to let Emma say it first, let her take the lead. Their entire relationship is complicated, even with how well they work together, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. He’s the first person she’s truly been with since Neal, and being in love would be a big deal for her. But he did say it, and he does mean it. And he’s not going to lie to her. “I do love you,” he whispers, running his thumb over the dip in her chin while he softly smiles down at her, his heart steadily beating against his ribcage. “I love Henry too, but I am so in love with you Emma Swan that I could easily run through fields of flowers and swim in that public pool all day to prove it.”

She laughs, and it’s the sweetest of sounds. Really and truly. But then she’s readjusting herself, sitting up in bed and caressing his face, her palms and fingertips moving over his jaw while her eyes study him, trailing everywhere until she’s looking directly at him.

“For someone who is such a suave flirt on a regular basis, you are damn cheesy in the big moments. But I love you, Killian. I really, really do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d run through fields of flowers and swim in public pools to prove it too.”

He barks out a laugh before he’s surging forward and capturing Emma’s lips with his, reveling in the little gasp that she makes. It’s something so delicate, but it also makes all of his flesh break out in bumps, a shiver running down his spine and hitting each of his vertebrae with the happiness and ecstasy of it all.

She bites down on his bottom lip before she soothes it with her tongue, and he growls before leaning forward and pushing her back on the mattress, covering her body with his as they move together in a gentle caress. He hasn’t been this happy in years, and he never wants it to stop.

This woman may very well be the love of his life.

This woman is the love of his life.

He doesn’t care if he’s getting ahead of himself. He’s not. He can’t be, not when they’ve known each other for seven years, not when she’s been his best friend for three, not when he’s been in love with her for over a year now, not when he knows.

“Do we really have to go back to the pool?” Emma mutters when they pull back. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips reddened and a bit swollen, and he can feel her chest move against him, the both of them searching for air. “Or can I prove my love for you in here?”

“However would you do that, my love?”

She hums for a moment while her fingers comb through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “Well, I could fuck your brains out, but that could get messy. So I was kind of thinking that you’d be willing to watch a movie with me that I’m inevitably going to fall asleep watching.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

-/-

“Do I look freshly fucked?” Emma jokes when she comes out of the bathroom, everything just the same as it was before they came up here to talk. Her eyes are still red rimmed, the slightest bit puffy, but she looks like Emma.

She looks happy.

“You look beautiful.”

Her lashes flutter down against her cheeks before she starts messing with the hem of her sweater while pulling up the waistband of her leggings. “Thank you. I’m going to go check on Ada, okay? Why don’t you go down and finish watching whatever cop show you were watching with Neal?”

“Live PD.”

“I didn’t really need to know.”

“And yet I told you anyways.”

She scoffs before shaking her head and walking toward the door the door, opening it and walking out of the room. He’s just about to follow her when he sees the blue velvet box on the floor. Slowly, he picks it up, thumbing at the material before he sits back down on the bed, the mattress soft under him as his heart gets stuck in his throat.

Emma was never supposed to find this.

He was supposed to take her to the coast. They were going to go to dinner, just the two of them like they enjoy doing to have time to themselves, and then he was going to guide her out to the shore and to the lighthouse. It’s pretty touristy, but no one goes in the winter months, the chill too cold. He and Emma have been out there by the water more times than he can count since they moved here, and nowhere else seemed quite right. Really, nowhere.

Maybe he could do it with the kids. Maybe in the backyard with bulb lights strung up in the trees and over the patio. They’ve never been one for big romantic gestures. They’ve always been two people who simply needed and wanted to know that they were loved by the fact that someone was there to hold their hand while waiting on a pregnancy test or to hear about a promotion at work or a dodgy medical report. It’s always been about the little things, the tiny shows of support every day. It’s never been about a bed full of rose petals or dinners that they can’t afford. He can understand the romance of that. He did before he was with Emma. But they’re different. They always have been.

But now he doesn’t know. Now he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to propose or even if he should propose despite the future that he knows they have. They need time to heal. It hasn’t just been a rough two and a half weeks. It’s been a rough three months, and as much as he believes in them, they have some work to do.

Besides, they might not be about the big gestures of romance, but Emma deserves a proposal that’s more than him asking her because she found the ring. She deserves something better, even if he knows they’d be perfectly happy no matter how it happens.

They’re going to be fine. Their lives are getting back on track, and he can’t wait. They may be taking the scenic route, but they’re getting there.

It’s what he’s done all his life regardless. He’s thirty seven years old, and he’s still got so much to figure out and so much to do.

Rising from the bed, he quickly walks into the closet and puts the ring back in his uniform before lifting the chair and taking it back to its rightful place in the corner of the room. He’s not exactly sure what Emma was doing with the chair, but he’ll ask her later.

After he’s gone downstairs to spend some time with Neal.

“You missed the most ridiculous case,” Neal laughs when he walks into the room and settles down on the loveseat instead of the recliner, propping his feet up on the ottoman. “This man had an alligator in the back of his truck that climbed out of the back and got on the highway.”

“Was it in Florida?”

“Obviously. It was insane. He had narcotics with him as well, but that stuff is batshit crazy. I remember a couple of years ago, there was this news article about a man who was attacked by an alligator while he was hiding from the cops. It was insane.”

Killian’s about to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but instead he closes his lips and keeps quiet. There’s something off about what Neal just said. It’s another outrageous story that matches up with this one, but Killian remembers that. He remembers because his boss had known the cop in the story. It was some distant connection, like his brother-in-law’s sister’s husband, but he’d still known the man. And if his boss knew about it and talked to him about it, that meant the story couldn’t be older than two years.

How the hell does Neal know a story that was two years old? He shouldn’t have had any access to the news. Maybe he’d read it in his effort to keep up with current events. Why he was reading about wild news in Florida, he has no idea. He’s not sure that it’s a mystery he wants to solve. He might simply be into pop culture more than he is actual news. Killian can’t blame him. The actual news is rather depressing.

Then again, so is reading about some celebrities.

“Ooh, look at the lights, Ada bug,” Emma coos as she walks into the room with Ada on her hip, her hand pointing at the tree. He has never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life, and he has to swallow the gulp that’s stuck in his throat. “Didn’t your daddy and Henry do such a good job at decorating? I mean, obviously Mommy did all of the work, but we’ll let them have some credit.”

“What about me?”

“And Neal. Neal also helped make everything special for your first Christmas.”

Emma plops down next to him on the sofa, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her in closer while his fingers mess with the tips of her hair. It feels good to be able to be affectionate with her again. He doesn’t ever want to give it up.

God, he was a jackass. He thought he was being honorable and doing a good thing, but he was a jackass.

He could hold his girls forever.

“Hello, darling,” he whispers to Ada, reaching over with his free hand to bop her nose, which always makes her dissolve into a fit of giggles. He thinks she rather likes the attention. “Would you like to watch people get arrested in real time?”

“You two are great influences.”

“Never said I was one,” Neal shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips even behind the glass he’s holding. “She’s a calm baby. Was Henry like that, Ems?”

“Sometimes, but Ada is almost seven months. They’ve calmed a bit by then if they’re not teething. When they’re newborns, it’s a little more insane. Henry was pretty good, but you were there for a few of the nights. You know how much he could wail.”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kind of hard to remember. I guess I blocked it out and just thought of the good memories.”

“That’s probably a good thing. No one wants to think about the wails of a baby too much. He loved his tummy time, though, which is weird because Ada used to hate it. So I don’t know. It really depended on the day and if I had help or not.”

“Yeah,” Neal sighs, looking over at them for a moment, his gaze staying on Emma before he sees it flicker to Killian’s arm around her shoulder for a brief moment. It doesn’t last long before he’s back staring at the television.

“Are you okay, Neal?” Emma questions, straightening her back out.

“I’m fine, Ems. I’m just thinking about all that I missed. You don’t have to say you’re sorry. You couldn’t have changed any of it, and I’m glad I’m here now. I never thought I would be, and this is – this is everything to me.”

“It’s everything to us too,” he promises for both he and Emma, not wanting her to have to find the words when he knows that she’s struggling over her feelings for Neal. He squeezes her arm before he runs his hand up and down her bicep and onto her shoulder, trying to comfort her as much as he can. They’ve both been on emotional rollercoasters today. This morning he’d woken up with a pain in his neck and in his chest before taking Ada for a walk and to the grocery store. He had no idea that by this evening he and Emma would be tentatively working on things, that they might not be as broken.

He can’t imagine all of the thoughts that must have gone through her mind leading up to everything. Hopefully he’ll get a glimpse of them later so that she doesn’t bottle them all up inside.

“Thank you,” Emma whispers, resting her head on his shoulder.

It’s not a problem at all. All he wants is to be able to support her and be there for her.

He should have never stopped.

The next hour is spent watching television and laughing at the ridiculousness of everything that’s on screen. He and Emma have to trade off playing with Ada and keeping her entertained even though she’s mostly happy to move around in her bouncer. It’s one of the lightest nights he’s had since Neal came home, and he’s glad for it as the three of them fall back into old patterns like when they were younger – just with a few differences.

When Henry gets home from ice skating with Avery, they let him talk about how good of a time he had and how funny it was watching Avery’s mum fall on the ice. He’s sure that was bloody painful, but Henry’s eight. Painful things are funny when they’re not happening to him. But eventually they have to put he and Ada to bed. Neal hasn’t quite gotten the practical parts of being a parent down so he usually stays away from nighttime routines, but that works for he and Emma because the moment he closes Henry’s door and Emma closes Ada’s (because she’s actually in her nursery tonight instead of their room), he and Emma walk into their bedroom and shut the door behind them without having to worry about making excuses.

It’s only nine, Ada up a little later from her nap, but it’s still too early for them to be getting away with going to bed.

They’re doing it anyhow.

“So,” Emma starts, reaching up underneath her sweater and pulling her bra off before putting it in the hamper.

“So,” he echoes, unzipping his jeans and tossing them in as well before he heads into the closet and pulls a pair of pajama pants off the shelf, tossing Emma her own pair, “we need to talk.”

“I find when a man tells me that it rarely means something good, and we’ve been saying it a lot.”

“I think it’ll be good,” he shrugs, stepping into his pants. “I think we’ll clear the air, and then we won’t have all of this extra stuff weighing down on us.”

“I like that idea.”

“Thought you would.” He clicks his tongue as he takes the few steps to the bed so that he can sit down at the foot of it while he takes a few deep breaths, trying to regulate himself. This is a bit terrifying. “I’m sorry, Emma. I don’t – you remember how much we struggled when we first got together, right? We had both said it was okay to move on from our pasts, from Neal’s death, but then when we moved on together – ”

“It was hard,” she finishes, tossing her leggings to the side before she curls up in the arm chair. It’s her favorite spot to sit in the room when she’s trying not to be lazy. If she gets in the bed or on the window seat, there’s a pretty good chance she falls asleep, especially recently. Nursing is hard on her, and it nearly always wipes her out. “I felt so guilty sometimes. I loved you, wanted to be with you, and I always thought, you know, Neal would be happy we had each other. But it still sometimes felt wrong.”

“Exactly, love. So imagine that except intensified. I know that you were here, that you had your own feelings on the matter, but, Emma, it was so damn hard being with you when I thought that I didn’t have any right to.”

“How could you think that? I love you. You’re my…you’re my family.”

“Aye, I know, I know,” he mutters, tapping his fingers against his knee while he focuses on his breathing. This is harder to articulate than he thought it would be, and looking at the brokenness on Emma’s face doesn’t help. “I know that. You’re my family. You and the kids are my entire world. I have nothing without you all. I just,” he croaks, tears stinging behind his eyes despite every attempt for them not to, “I felt like I didn’t deserve to be with you, for you to love me when the man you loved first was right there back from the dead. I know that first loves don’t have to be only loves. That’s ridiculous thinking. But you never chose to stop loving Neal. He was taken from you.”

He watches Emma nod her head up and down before she’s crossing her arms over her chest and reaching up to mess with her necklace. Even when she was pissed at him, she didn’t take it off. He always felt such comfort in that even if he was reading too much into it.

“I know, and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that Neal was captured, that he’s been through hell, that our family was split up. It’s not fair, nothing about it, and I have beat myself up over it for eight years. We need to look into therapy, by the way. For, um, Henry. And possibly for me. I think it might be nice to have a professional to talk to because my emotional whiplash is insane.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, love,” he promises, looking up at her and smiling, giving her the constant reassurance that her vulnerability is good thing. “I’m not sure how much Henry will love it, but I have been so worried about him, especially after yesterday. We have no idea what else is happening that he’s keeping from us.”

“I can’t believe that happened. I can’t believe there are moms at that school calling me a whore, let alone saying it in front of their kids. That’s so messed up.”

“It’s fucked up,” he chuckles, not really sure what else to say. He hasn’t stopped fuming about it. He could punch a wall, but he knows not to, to try to channel his anger other places. Usually it’s in his runs. He needs to go running Monday morning. “We’ve gone through enough guilt over everything. We sure as hell don’t need people saying wrong, hurtful things about our family. People get divorced, people break up. Not everyone gets married and stays married to the same person. Not everyone has all of their children with one person. There’s just…there’s so much wrong with all of that, and I hope you didn’t take any of it to heart.”

“I’ve dealt with enough mean moms not to,” she shrugs before reaching down into the basket next to her and pulling out a blanket to wrap around her body. “But, yeah, um, we can talk about therapy later when we can look into it. I don’t – Killian, I understand your mindset. I understand that your mom and Liam raised you to be an honorable guy, that you are one, but I want to know why you couldn’t understand that you’re my family too. You had to have known that us taking a break, that it would kill me. My chest literally felt like I’d been stabbed for days on end.”

His chest feels like he’s been stabbed right now.

“I did. I watched you break down. I watched you sob like I haven’t seen in years, but I felt like I had to. My mind was so confused, so muddled, and I felt like I needed to take a step back to figure out what was happening, to possibly give you and Henry a chance at happiness.”

“My love,” Emma croaks, wiping away the tears that haven’t fallen from her eyes yet, “you make us happy. I don’t know how many times I can say this before you fully get it, but you are my family, our family. You are the only dad Henry has ever known until now. Yeah, he knew about Neal, but he didn’t know him. Now he gets that opportunity, which is so wonderful, but at the end of the day, you’re the one who has always been his dad. And now he gets two. That’s a good thing. That’s not a bad thing.”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. He’s been so confused, so idiotic, and if he had been smart enough to talk to Emma, to talk to Liam, to talk to someone, maybe he could have figured some of that out without causing everyone this much pain.

Never again. He’s not going to let this happen ever again.

Same team.

“You’re right.”

“He can love you both, and while a part of me will always love Neal, I don’t want to be with him. I’ve grown and changed. When we were together, Neal and I, I was young and naïve and craving someone to make me feel loved. I had Ruth and David, but the orphan in me convinced me that I needed some other kind of validation, that I needed someone else to love me. So when this older guy came around, one who was in a uniform and charming and who made me laugh, I felt this instant connection to him.”

“You guys were good together,” he admits, smiling a bit to himself thinking about it.

“We had our moments, but looking back, a lot of our relationship was screwed up. We were both adults, but there was a power imbalance. I wasn’t as sure of myself as I am now. I didn’t know any better. When…when I told Neal that I was pregnant,” she whispers, her voice suddenly quiet even though he knows what happens next, has already heard her say the words today, “he wasn’t happy. I don’t know. It’s, like, it’s almost like he didn’t want the connection with me more than he didn’t want a baby. But I tried to convince myself otherwise, tried to convince myself that it was just shock, but then he wasn’t around as much. He wasn’t really around at all during my pregnancy. He missed Henry’s birth for training when they told him he could come home from it for the birth. I don’t think I ever felt more distant from him than I did then. And for eight years I thought he was dead.”

His heart has been broken several times in his life. His dad leaving was the first, his mum dying the second, his breakups with Tina and Milah third and fourth, but this right here…listening to Emma talk about these secrets she’s hoarded away for years, this might be the worst. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She hasn’t deserved any of the horrible things that have happened to her since the day she was born and left on fire station steps, but most of all, he thinks that she doesn’t deserve for the people she’s trusted with her heart to break it while it’s still in their hands.

He did the same, even if it was temporary. He did the same.

Never again. He’ll keep thinking it until it’s true. “Emma, why have you never told me this?”

She wipes at her tears again before getting up and quickly crossing the room, plopping down next to him and wrapping her arms around his stomach while her shoulder shake. He can hear her sniffling, and all he knows to do is hold her. She’s opened up her walls enough for him to be the one that gets to comfort her, and it’s not an honor he takes lightly.

He could kill Neal. He won’t, but he could. The bastard went on and on about how devastated he is to have missed Henry’s life when he didn’t even care for him at the beginning. Maybe he’s changed. He’s had a long time to do it. But he can’t imagine what it must be like for her to remember all of this and have to watch him interact with Henry now. Neal has never been a bad guy, but he could be selfish. And this – this is damn selfish.

How could he not have been happy to have a child with Emma? Finding out Emma was pregnant with Ada is one of the great moments of his life, and as much as he tries, as much as he thinks about the circumstances, he can’t understand.

“Because when I got the news that Neal had disappeared, that he had died, I was so devastated. And it’s almost like it wasn’t for me. It was for Henry. He’d never get to know his dad. He’d never do anything like all of the kids he was going to grow up with. So I kind of latched onto what the man told me when he told me Neal died. He told me Neal was a hero, and I convinced myself that if I saw him as this perfect hero, that I could make him be that way for Henry. I could let his dad be a hero. I could let his dad be his hero.” “Sweetheart – ”

“And then he got this chance, you know, this miracle chance to know the man I’d portrayed to him as a hero, and I’m honestly relieved that Neal is so much better now, that he’s changed. Sometimes he can still be selfish, but he’s good for Henry.” “He is,” Killian promises, dipping his head down to brush his lips over the crown of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through all that, that you’ve been hiding it away inside. That’s wrong. That never should have happened.”

“I know that now. I know my worth and what it’s like to be supported. You have been the most supportive person in my life. More than David and Ruth and Mary Margaret. So it was devastating to me when I didn’t have that support anymore.”

“It’s not going to happen again. I can assure you. I won’t be such a dumb jackass, as you say.”

He hears her chuckle, the sound the slightest bit watery, before she tilts her head up to look at him, the smallest, softest smile gracing her lips. He’s not sure if her eyes have ever looked this green. “I believe I said you were insufferable.”

“Well that too,” he sighs before dipping his head and kissing the corner of her lips. “I’m dumb and insufferable, and I promise to support you for the rest of my life. I will never stop fighting for us.”

They’re not wedding vows. The ring is still in his uniform pocket, the papers nonexistent at the courthouse, and the question still unasked, but they might as well be. He’s in this for the long haul, and Emma is right beside him, even when their steps might not exactly match up.

Maybe especially then.

#rising from the ashes #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff

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