#i think he had 3 swans then? he sat them next to his computer :]

[chainsawworld]

Big Lad and the Clowns

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,434

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same. 

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 1/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

Going back home felt bizarre for (Y/N). It had been 4 years since she had moved away from the La Push Reservation on a scholarship to a prep boarding school in Seattle. Although students were expected to go back home during summer break, she spent her time in summer taking college classes or attending internships in the area, so going back didn’t fit into her plans.

But she had just graduated from high school and decided that taking a gap year could not hurt. Seeing her family wouldn’t be that bad either.

(Y/N) Uley had not reunited physically with Sam and Allison Uley since she left for school, only calling occasionally but always being to busy for anything else. The mother and son duo had grown accustomed to the short phone calls and vague emails they would receive from their studious family member. The Uley siblings used to be a very close pair, being only a year apart helped their bond. But since (Y/N) had invested all her energy into her high school career, their relationship rapidly dissipated; replaced by untold secrets and life-changing details.

The Uley girl had no idea what was in store when she went back home. She had left when she was 14 and was coming back an 18-year-old with a high school diploma and a bachelor’s degree. (Y/N) had always been an over achiever and applying to the school she had and taking dual enrollment was no surprise to her mother and brother.

The bus ride from Seattle to La Push lasted almost eight hours, so (Y/N) equipped herself with two books, plenty of snacks, and a fully charged iPod to handle the ride. She had gotten the earliest ride available always enjoying the intriguing mystery that 3 am travels brought. Her brown eyes surveyed the curious characters that voyaged alongside her a young woman sat with a sleeping baby in her arms, the dark circles under her eyes signaled the baby was still a newborn getting adapted to a sleep schedule; there was a middle-aged man, his eyes attached to a computer and a briefcase tight to his side; there were two teenagers, backpacks at their feet and shared headphones in between them. They were wearing light blue polo shirt and her school insignia embroidered on the left side of their shirt. She had seen them in passing, two freshmen still energetic and excited for their school life. She looked at them and smiled, remembering being in their shoes four years ago.

Four hours in, (Y/N) had finished one book, and the bus made its first stop in Port Angeles, the place where everyone that traveled with her got off. It wasn’t surprising to see from the top of her book as everyone got off, she didn’t recognize any of them from the reservation so it would have been surprising if any of them had stayed in the bus. For the next four hours, (Y/N) continued to read her second book surrounded by a comforting silence. The sun had risen about an hour ago and a nice warmth was streaming from the bus window and (Y/N) felt herself drift in bliss.

Her eyes fluttered open once again when she felt the bus finally rolling to a stop. She blinked a few times as she adjusted her vision to the bright midday sun and her brain restarted normal functions. The brunette gathered the bag with her travel companions and got up from the chair she had been glued to for eight hours.

“Have a good day,” the driver chimed as (Y/N) was walking down the bus.

“You too, drive safe!” The girl smiled and got her two suitcases out of the side of the bus.

(Y/N) got startled as she felt two arms wrap around her midriff and quickly swung her elbow back.

“Woah, woah, careful with those arms, (Y/N). It’s just me,” the girl turned around, a gleaming grin adorning her face.

“Sam!” She jumped onto the open arms of her older brother, seeing the years that had passed on his tired face.

“Look at you, darling. All grown up,” Allison Uley smiled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Mom, I’ve missed you.” (Y/N) hugged her mother tightly, noticing the difference in heights of her and her mother. Another thing she noticed was the strain between her mother and her brother. Before she left, they all had a very close relationship but now it felt like so many things had interlaced into their bond. “Let’s go home yeah?”

“I’m, actually I gotta go to my house,” Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“What house?” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I moved out, but I’ll come over for your welcome dinner.”

“Sam, she just came back. Don’t you wanna spend time with your sister?” Allison begged, wanting to have both of her children under the same roof again.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, mom. Leave it.” Sam sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner, (Y/N).”

He kissed the top of his sister’s head and left. He wanted to tell them the whole truth, but he knew he couldn’t. Knowing that information would put them in a level of danger that he didn’t want them to be aware of.

(Y/N) stared at the retreating figure of his brother as he ran down the street, leaving her and their mother.

“What’s up with him?”

“Oh darling, if only I knew.” Allison sighed grabbing one of the suitcases her daughter had brought. “Let’s just head to the house so you can rest.”

“Yeah, let’s.” (Y/N) gave Allison a comforting smile and wheeled the second suitcase towards the truck.

The drive home was as short as she remembered, and the house hadn’t changed a bit. She walked up the steps to the porch and opened the old wooden door; it still made the same creaking sound. The house still smelled of seawater and pine, an odd mix but a comforting scent. (Y/N) regretted all the summers she missed here and all the days she spent away from her family.

She made her way up the stairs and entered the first door to the right. She ran her fingers through the stickers she had pasted on there when she was 13: a wolf, a rainbow, a heart, and a picture of her family. Her name still carved at the highest point of the door and she smiled at the memory of that. She sat atop Sam’s shoulder when she was just 12 years old, a trembling hand holding a pick as she carved as best as she could the name “(Y/N)”.

The doorknob as it was turned let out a squeaky groan and the door needed an extra push to open. The room had not changed at all. The walls were still painted a light green, the light switch still had the pink princess cover, the bedding had the little purple butterflies embroidered on them, and the pillows were all pink and purple. In a corner rested the five boxes (Y/N) had sent to the house from her dorm room.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” (Y/N) commented as she felt her mother’s presence behind her.

“I didn’t want to change it until you came back,” Allison smiled. “But I’m sure you’d like to give this place a bit of a makeover.”

“Definitely,” she laughed. “I think I’ll go to Port Angeles this weekend, doing some shopping can’t hurt.”

“That’s true.” Allison side hugged her daughter as she laughed. She headed towards the door but stopped when she was called upon by her daughter.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“By any chance, do you know where Sam’s living?” Allison’s body stiffened but shared the information with her daughter. Maybe she could figure out why he’d just disappeared.

(Y/N) was surprised to hear he was living with a girl she barely knew. She knew of Emily Young through Leah Clearwater, but not much after that. Last thing she had heard Leah and Sam had been dating. She certainly had missed some very important pivotal points in her brother’s life.

The house wasn’t far, so she decided to walk there. Upon arrival she could feel the warm and inviting aura that the quaint house emanated. The blue door called to her as she knocked on it. It finally opened and revealed her brother.

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my big brother. Is that such a crime?” She laughed.

“No, of course. Come in,” he smiled begrudgingly. “I don’t have much time so we gotta make this quick.”

“Wow, feeling the love there,” she chuckled passing through the doorframe.

“There’s just some things that I have to do before dinner tonight.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I just wanted to ask if you could help me on the weekend with my room. I’m bringing it four years into the present, gotta make sure it looks like an 18-year-old sleeps there.”

“Yeah, I’ll come over Sunday afternoon and help you then. Anything else you need?”

“Well, not exactly, but it wouldn’t help to catch up. You know make up for four years of chit chat conversations and get me up to date with at the happenings in your life.”

“There’s not much to say other than I moved out and I’m engaged.” He said nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?! You’re engaged and failed to mention that to me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, (Y/N).”

“Yes, it is, Sam! You’re getting married and this is the first I’m ever hearing of this or the fact that you moved out or the fact that you’re engaged to your ex-girlfriend’s cousin. I think it is a big deal.”

“Okay, yeah. Kind of a long story on that one.”

“Enough time to tell it to me?” Sam hesitated. He could hear Emily’s truck approaching and two male voices coming back from patrol. He needed to get (Y/N) out of the house before they got here.

“Maybe another time. I’ll call you on Sunday, yeah?” Sam asked as he nudged his sister out of his house.

“I guess.” (Y/N) mumbled as she was pushed out the front door. “Bye.”

“See ya.” Sam kissed the side of her head and closed the door.

(Y/N) left the house with more questions about her brother that she had begun with but didn’t want to press on. There was no use if he wasn’t going to talk, so she walked back home.

Her mother had gone out, possibly grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner, giving (Y/N) time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. She walked up the stairs and into her room, plopping down on the bed not caring how she landed. All she wanted was to close her eyes and rest.

By six in the afternoon her eyes fluttered open once again. She could smell the dinner her mother had been cooking. The room had darkened as the sun was going down and thankfully her mother had turned on a lamp for (Y/N) to have some vision. The girl got up from bed and grabbed some clothes from her suitcase to take a quick shower before dinner. She stripped all her clothes off and let the water wash away all the hours of the day. As soon as the water started turning cold, she shut it off and got out.

For a second, (Y/N) stopped and stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. She barely recognized the girl staring back. The bags under her eyes were deeper than the last time she had seen herself in this specific mirror, her cheekbones were more defined than before, her skin paler than usual since she hadn’t really seen the sun in a while.

It didn’t take her long to change into some new clothes and head downstairs, where she saw her mother on the phone. Disappointment evident in her eyes.

“Sam, it’s your sister… please… ok, fine. Just don’t flake on her on Sunday,” Allison sighed, turning off her phone and slamming it on the counter.

“Everything okay, mom?”

“Oh, yeah, darling. Your brother won’t be able to join us, but Billy and Jacob, and the Clearwaters are on their way, and I also invited Charlie and Bella Swan. I hope you don’t mind that they join in.”

“No, I don’t mind. What about Paul?”

“You know I’ve never liked that boy, honey.” (Y/N) stared at her mother. Refusing to continue the conversation until Allison answered the question. “I did invite him, but he couldn’t come.”

“I love seeing you make an effort,” (Y/N) laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll set the table.”

“Thank you, darling.”

(Y/N) grabbed the 10 plates needed for the night and the respective cutlery. She still remembered how her mother liked the table arranged and set it as such. She set the vase filled with fresh flowers in the middle of the table, leaving space on the sides for the dinner platters. The arrival of the guests was soon after. (Y/N) had grown alongside Jacob and Leah, and on the summers, she would spend her times with the Swan girl. Once Seth was born, he became very close with the Uley girl.

“My oh my, (Y/N), how you’ve grown.” Billy Black grabbed Uley’s hand and smiled up at her, with the warmness that summer brought.

“Indeed, I have, and you haven’t aged a day in four years. What’s your secret?”

“It’s in the genes,” he laughed alongside the young girl. She’d always been a charmer, he thought “You remember my boy, Jacob, right?”

“How could I ever forget? Hey, Jake!”

“How you’ve been, (Y/N)?” Jacob approached his friend and wrapped her in a hug. “Been an awful long time.”

“Four years, that’s not much,” she smiled. “Come in.”

The father and son duo entered the house, and next came the Clearwaters. Harry, Sue, and Seth. No Leah. They had always been close to the Uleys, a bit of divide coming after the rupture between the eldest offspring of each family.

“Oh, wow, where has the time gone?” Sue commented, greeting the girl with a tight hug.

“4 years really do go by quick, don’t they?”

“They sure do, Harry.” (Y/N) smiled, motioning the couple in.

Finally, Seth walked in and engulfed (Y/N) in a tight hug. The girl was 5 years his elder, but he considered her one of his best friends. Seth and Paul were the only two people (Y/N) kept in close contact other than her family. For some time, Paul and (Y/N) had drifted apart but Seth always sent his monthly excited letters, updating her on what he had been up to.

“I missed you, (Y/N)!” Little Seth spoke into a bundle of brunette hair.

“I missed you too, Seth.” She smiled as he walked past her, joining his parents.

The last to enter were Sheriff Swan and Bella. The cop smiled at the girl and gave her a quick hug, commenting on how much she had grown, a low chuckle leaving his throat. Bella entered with hunched shoulders, possibly not wanting to be there but she still smiled at her old friend. Vague memories filled the girls’ heads of summer play dates and days at the beach.

“It’s been quite some time, huh?” Bella muttered.

“It sure has. It’s great to see you again,” (Y/N) smiled. “How have you liked Forks now that you’re back full time. Still hating cold weather?”

“Yeah,” the pale girl chuckled. “But it has its better days.”

The girls joined in a quick giggled before joining the rest of the group at the dinner table. Allison had already set the table and had said her hellos to the group.

The three males had engaged in sports conversations and the teens were all huddled in the kitchen munching on cheese and crackers and engaging in small chit chat.

“So, (Y/N), 18 and already a degree, how does that feel?” Jacob asked, stuffing his mouth with cheese and ham.

“Well, as good as it can be. Don’t know exactly what I’m gonna do now. All I know is that I’m taking a year off and taking a breather for the first time.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I just can’t believe you’d spend all this time going to school, twice as much. I don’t like school at all,” Seth chimed in, picking apart the cheese and filling his mouth.

“So, you spent these past four years studying, including your summers?” Bella added.

“That’s correct,” (Y/N) smiled. “And now I have a degree and nothing to do with it.”

The group chuckled and moved towards the adults as they were being called to dinner. In the center of the table was a big platter of spaghetti and meatballs, (Y/N)’s favorite food, a tray of toasted garlic bread, and a bowl of a colorful mix of spring salad.

(Y/N) always enjoyed her mother’s cooking. Even on her saddest days, Allison’s cooking could warm her heart at any time. She and her mother had a very close relationship, even after four years of distance. Since her father left early in her life, her mother had always tried her hardest to make sure both her children were loved and cared for. And she stayed wondering where she had gone wrong with Sam and hoping (Y/N) didn’t stray away as her eldest had.

The dinner group had all taken their seats at the dinner table and were passing around the various platters, serving themselves their desired portions. Jacob and Seth were overfilling their plates, receiving a laugh from their respective parents. Charlie, Harry, and Billy were filling their plates with more protein than carbohydrates and the moms at the table smiled at the males engulfing the meatballs. (Y/N) looked around the table and smiled. It had been a long time since she had sat down with the important people in her life and was relaxed, even if two of them were missing.

After everyone was served, everything went almost quiet. Some background music could be heard from the living room and the sound of forks hitting plates and mouths chewing filled the environment. Everyone was comfortable with the silence, but there was still one question in everyone’s mind.

“Where’s Sam?” Seth spoke up, voicing everyone’s question. The whole table paused in action and Seth felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Sue softly elbowed her son. “What?”

“It’s okay, Sue,” (Y/N) smiled. “He couldn’t be here, bud.”

“Maybe he was feeling bad, like Leah.” He added earning a burning stare from both his parents.

“Maybe, Seth.”

“I just wanna apologize for our daughter missing this dinner. I know she really wanted to see you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Harry, it’s really no problem. I’m sure I’ll catch up with her soon enough.” (Y/N) smiled trying to ease the tension felt in the room. She could see her mother gripping her fork tightly as she kept her head down. “But I would also like to apologize on behalf of Sam, I know he wanted to be here.”

Everyone simply nodded and went back to their plates. The rest of the evening was enjoyable. No one mentioned the pair that was missing, and (Y/N)’s past four years were questioned in depth. She had an answer for everything except “What are you gonna do now?”

She didn’t know and that’s what she answered. She mentioned she wanted to study medicine, having finished a degree in biology and always loved taking care of other people. Sue was excited, being a nurse herself. But (Y/N) had landed at a standstill in terms of her life and career. A vast portion of her life had been defined as a student and now that this part was over, she didn’t know who she was.  

The dinner festivities were over soon thereafter, leaving Allison and (Y/N) to clean up after the group. The Uley pair put everything away in silence, exhausted from the eventful day. (Y/N) could see as her mother wiped away a few stray tears, sniffling behind her hair. The girl knew better than to bring the topic back up and left her mother with a kiss on the temple and a good night.

Upstairs, (Y/N) prepared herself for bed. The event had drained nay energy still left in her and she plopped down on the bed with a small thud. She had prepared her clothes for the next day, knowing her energy would also be drained but still excited to have this change. Her eyes fluttered close as she heard in the distance her mother’s quiet footsteps on the staircase, darkness overtaking her.

Next->

A/N: if you wish to be tagged for the next parts, please let me know. I’d be happy to. <3

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 3/3 Notes:

Thank you so much for reading and going along on this journey. This 3 chapter AU took me more time to write than any of my other fics, I really stepped outside my comfort zone with this as I prefer to write original stories and struggled with an AU based on something everyone knows and loves. I haven't liked every word, but I grew to love the tale and I hope you did too.

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 3: The Book of You

“Well now that you’ve put her out of business, I wonder if she would come work for me? She’d be an excellent children’s book editor.”

Killian made a snorting sound, “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t work for anyone associated with me.”

“I think I’m going to offer her a job anyway.”

“She wouldn’t be good for you; she lacks that killer instinct you like in your employees. What is it you always say, never apologize as long as you win?”

“Like you’re one to talk, you’re just as insensitive as I am, I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” She complained, punching the button on the elevator to their floor. “The only reason I have the chance to hire her is because you put her out of business.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s insensitive now?”

Killian internally groaned, watching the numbers on the elevator move slowly as Milah droned on beside him. Emma would never work for someone like her, she could never be as cutthroat as he had seen Milah behave. She wasn’t like her, or for that matter, him. Emma was a rare breed.

The elevator jerked violently to pull him from his thoughts, lights flickering on and off as it came to a shuddering halt.

“What the hell!” Milah yelled as the other occupants in the elevator began tapping on the buttons.

“I’m sure it’s just a technical issue.” He offered reassuringly. Milah pulled out her phone, dialing and waiting impatiently for someone to answer. He leaned against the wall, smiling at the woman with her young daughter. “They’ll get us out shortly, no need to worry.”

“No one is answering, how incompetent do you have to be to not know how to pick up a phone?”

“Milah, it’s possible there was an electrical outage that affected more than us, I’m sure the phone lines are busy.”

“I’ll be putting in my complaint to the city.” She squealed and Killian pushed himself down toward the floor, sitting on the ground and removing his jacket.

“I’m sure they’ll be awaiting your call with bated breath.” He grumbled to himself. “Shouldn’t be long, someone will come and get us out.” He announced to the group. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Three hours later and Milah was testing his nerves. He had expected her complaints to die down once the air in the elevator had gotten thicker and harder to take breaths, but it seemed to only intensify her anger.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to call my daughter and apologize. I haven’t spoken to her in 3 weeks, and I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” The man beside him spoke to no one in particular. Killian smiled at the man; it was a lovely sentiment.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to apply for that job I’ve been scared to be rejected from. Even if I don’t get it, at least I will have tried.”

Milah jumped in, “When I get out of here, I’m going to get Botox.” She announced, staring at herself in her hand mirror and pulling at her skin. Killian rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what he was going to do when he got out of here.

“When I get out of here…” He began.

“Do you have my gum?” Milah interrupted and Killian exhaled, reaching into his jacket beside him to pull out his gum and toss it toward her. The moment was gone, but the second he left the elevator he did exactly what the moment called for. He told Milah it was over between them.

She barely gave up a fight, as he gathered his items, promising to return to pick up the rest of his stuff, and taking Smee out the door with him. Killian didn’t care, he was just happy he could stop pretending. He realized in that elevator that his and Milah’s relationship had always been pretend. He dated her because it was the next logical step in their relationship, they moved in together because that’s what you do when you’ve been dating for as long as they had. She was in the book business, she had contacts that he used selfishly for his own business, and beyond that they had nothing else in common with each other. It was over before it had even begun.

Killian sat down in front of his computer, he wanted to talk to Emma. She was the first person he thought about when faced with what he was going to do once he left that elevator. He needed to come clean to Emma, tell her who he was. But he knew that once he did that, it was all over. She would never speak to him again. But maybe, maybe if she got to know the real him, the real Killian Jones, maybe he wouldn’t lose her.

JR10: Tonight, I got in the elevator, something I do every day. Three hours later I got out of the elevator and Smee and I moved out of my shared apartment. It was like the smoke had cleared and everything just made sense to me. It’s a long story, full of all those little details we don’t share about ourselves, maybe one day we will.

~*~

Emma stared at the screen in front of her. He had been living with someone. She couldn’t be angry; she had been doing the same. She understood how he was feeling though, the smoke clearing. It was exactly how she felt with August. Like the world just opened to her and suddenly she got tired of playing the game. She just wanted to be happy and clearly she hadn’t been.

Lonelygirl: Change is a funny thing isn’t it? It’s like dominoes. One little thing changes and suddenly there is this chain reaction and when you look up everything around you has changed. Six months ago, when I met you online, I knew exactly who I was, what my life was going to look like, and where I would be for the rest of my life. Now I know nothing. My store closed this week. I haven’t told you I owned a store, but I did. It was a beautiful little bookstore that my mother had when she was alive. And maybe I held onto it so fiercely because it was my way of keeping her alive, but either way, it closed and I’m heartbroken. It’s like my mother has died all over again and there’s nothing anyone can do to make it right.

Emma walked down the street, looking up to see the Jones Books logo staring down at her, mocking her. She bit her lip and walked up to the door, yanking it open forcefully as if somehow her strength was going to topple the entire building to the ground.

She marveled at the size of the inside, stairs leading to a second and third floor, lights hanging in every corner, large comfortable chairs full of patrons sitting together, reading books. The place was full, she’d never seen so many people in a such a large space before. The registers were full of customers purchasing armfuls of books. She climbed the stairs slowly, stopping when she saw the children’s section.

It was a marvel, bright, colorful, with stuffed animals lying around for children to play with. She sat down on a large bean bag, tears falling softly down her face.

“Do you have the shoe books?” A woman asked one of the employees standing a few feet away from her.

“Shoe books? Who’s the author?” Emma rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know the author, my friend just told me that I need to find the shoe books.”

“Neal Streatfeild. The author is Neal Streatfeild, he wrote all the shoe books.” She announced to the pair as the tears started to come faster. “I’d start with skating shoes, though ballet shoes are just as beautiful.” She said with a snort, looking up to see them staring at her with a tentative look of concern. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and stood up, quickly exiting the building.

~*~

Killian stared at his computer. Sadness overtaking him at her words. He really was the bad guy.

“Cora and I are over.” Killian looked up at his dad.

“So soon, you just got engaged.”

“She was dating the nanny.”

He burst into laughter. “Well, that makes up for you leaving Kristen for the nanny.”

“No, Kristen was the nanny, I was with Kelly at the time.”

“Ah, so many, I lose track.”

Killian turned his attention back to his computer.

JR10: I’m so sorry about your store. I don’t know what else to say that doesn’t sound trite and inconsiderate. I hope that you will be alright.

He sent the message, but he felt sick inside.

“How’s the store? Business must be booming, and I heard that the children’s book lady finally closed.” His father poured himself a drink. “You met her; do you think she would date me?”

His father handed him a glass and Killian sighed. “On to the next, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

“Father and son, back together again.”

Killian could hardly believe that as much as he tried to not be like his father, here he was living on his boat, parked on the slip right next to where his father was currently hiding out in his. Father and son, indeed.

The next few days he went in search of a new apartment, checked in with Belle at the store, and waited anxiously for a reply from Lonelygirl. When he had heard no response from her after a week, he decided to reach out again.

JR10: Why haven’t you written back? Are you alright?

When Emma didn’t reply, he walked to the store, checking in to make sure that everything was going as expected for the new store. Business had taken off in the past week, Belle had made a very important hire, bringing in Will Scarlett from The Golden Swan to run the children’s book section.

After Killian had observed Emma in his store, listened as his employee was unable to assist a customer, he challenged Belle with the task of bringing in the best department head she could find for the children’s section. Will may not have seemed like the best option for customer services with his dry wit, his sour attitude, or his arrogant behavior, but when it came to children, the man turned into a new person. He told stories, acted out the parts, played the different voices, and children flocked to him. He was a rare find in their world.

When he returned home later that evening, he found a new message from Emma.

Lonelygirl: I’m sick. I can’t stop sneezing, my ears are clogged, my nose is blocked. I feel terrible. I haven’t left my bed in days. The worst part is that all I can do now is sit here and think about my life. Who am I kidding? What life? What am I going to do now?

Killian groaned, if he felt worse before he felt terrible now. He had ruined this woman’s life. And now here she was feeling like she had no future. He caused that. She was a bright woman with a bright future, and he needed her to know that too.

He jumped up from his chair, rushing out the door.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the brick apartment, staring up at the windows above him. This was a risk, but he needed to take it.

~*~

Emma lay in bed, sneezing for yet the fifteenth time that hour. She felt terrible. She closed her eyes, trying to find sleep when the buzzing forced her eyes open. “Oh God, not now.” She groaned, pulling herself up from her bed and stumbling through the apartment. The sound buzzed again, and she put her hands to her ears. “Please stop doing that.” She moaned. Pressing the button to the intercom.

“Go away.” She yelled into the box.

“Hi, Hello. This is Killian Jones.”

Emma stood back from the door like it shocked her. What the hell was he doing at her apartment?

“Go away.” She repeated. She had no idea what that asshole was doing at her apartment but whatever it was, it wasn’t a concern of hers.

“Can I come up?”

“No that’s a terrible idea. I’m sick, I haven’t been sleeping, I might be contagious so I would really appreciate it if you…”

There was a loud knock on the door she was currently leaning against. She jumped at the sound. “Hello?”

Emma stood back from the door. Killian Jones was standing outside her apartment. She looked around the room, scattered used tissue paper littering every surface, blankets draping the floor and chairs. She ran around the room, gathering items in her arms, tossing garbage away as fast as she could.

“Emma?” She heard his voice on the other side of the door. She looked down at the pajamas she was in and looked around anxiously for anything to cover herself up with. Reaching for the closest item she could find she wrapped the long coat around her and tightened the belt before reaching for the door.

Opening the door, she came face to face with her worst enemy, holding a bundle of flowers. “Why are you here?”

“I heard you were sick, I wanted to check on you.”

Emma stared at him, open mouthed. This was a new development, she didn’t think empathy was a trait of his. “You put me out of business. Are you here to gloat or offer me a job?”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He announced, stepping into her apartment, and slipping past her into her living room.

“Hey!” She said, spinning around and following him. “I’ll have you know, I already got offered a job by your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend actually.” He offered and Emma narrowed her eyes in his direction.

“Oh, what happened?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, that’s terrible you two seemed perfect for each other.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She did it again. Said something really awful just to hurt someone. That wasn’t who she was. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that it was really mean. I’m not like that, but every time I’m around you…”

“I know, the words just fly out of your mouth.” He offered with a laugh.

“Yes actually, but I’m sorry. Thank you for coming. But I think you should leave.” She opened the door and tapped her foot.

“I brought you flowers.” He said instead of walking out the opened door. He held them toward her, a beautiful array of snowbells. “Do you have a vase?” He turned and walked back through her house, wandering off toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” She argued, chasing him through the house.

“They need water, you should sit down, you’re sick.” Emma stared at him dumbfounded. What the hell was this man doing here? She sat down lazily onto her couch, staring toward the kitchen to see if she could see the man who was currently invading her life. He stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway, “Did you know that Will came to work for me? He’s a great kid. He’s the one who told me you were feeling sick. Did you know he has a PHD in children’s literature?”

Emma nodded absentmindedly and mumbled to herself. “Of course, I knew that.”

He returned to the room with the flowers and Emma smiled at the large bouquet of beautiful buds that almost lit up the room. “When did you break up?”

“What?”

“With your girlfriend, when did you break up?”

He put the flowers down, quietly speaking. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“Everyone is breaking up recently. This other person I know broke up with his girlfriend in an elevator. Or outside one or near it, something. It was stuck. And then everything was clear.” She said, her mind hazy. “When I saw you that night, at the restaurant, he’s the one I was waiting for and I was…”

“Enchanting.” He said almost reverently which caused Emma to snort.

“I was not enchanting, I was mean, you said it yourself.”

“Well, you looked enchanting” He said, before turning back to the kitchen and rummaging through her cabinets. “Tea?”

Emma nodded, “Top cabinet on the left.” She mumbled, blowing her nose into the tissue in her lap.

“Well, I was upset that night. And I was really rude.”

“I was the rude one, love.” He replied, handing her a cup.

“Yes, but I have no excuse.” She grabbed the flowers, the tea, and her blanket and walked toward her bedroom.

He followed her, “Whereas I am a horrible human being and thus have no excuse but to be rude. Correct?”

“No that’s not what I meant.” She said before sneezing violently. “I’m done being a mean person, even to you.” She crawled into her bed.

“But I put you out of business. You’re allowed to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She sighed.

“But you’ll never forgive me.” He added with an almost sincere expression on his face, to the point that Emma almost believed that he felt sorry for ruining her life. She knew that was ridiculous because Killian Jones was a ruthless businessman, he wasn’t sorry for doing his job.

“You don’t care if you get my forgiveness or not.”

“It wasn’t personal.” He said softly.

“It was business.” She laughed. “What does that even mean? I’m so sick of it. All it means is that it wasn’t personal to you, but it was personal to me. What’s wrong with personal?”

“Nothing.” He added seriously.

“Exactly, if anything, it should at least start as being personal.” Emma shook her head, “My head is fuzzy, I need to go to bed.” She crawled into her blankets. “Why are you here again?”

“I thought maybe we could be friends.”

“You are crazy.” She laughed.

“I know, I guess it was too much to expect. Can I ask you something?”

“Well, you’re here aren’t you.”

“What happened with that guy from the Café?”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?” He asked, a look of hope in his eyes she didn’t understand.

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you run off with him? Start a new life with this lucky man.”

Emma frowned. She knew she was about to sound completely stupid. “I don’t actually know him.” He smiled at her, and Emma was waiting for the retort. “We met…” Don’t tell him Emma. “You are going to think this is ridiculous.”

“You met him online.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

He pulled the blankets up to her chest, a move that suddenly felt very personal and warm. “Well, I’m happy for you both. But I think maybe you should meet him, love.”

She laughed nervously, “I don’t think I need to take advice from someone who…”

His hand slipped against her lips, and they immediately tingled from his touch. “I’ll save you from saying something else you’ll regret.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he pulled it away. “Get better, Emma.”

She stared at him dumbfounded. “Uh huh.”

He smiled, his blue eyes shining down at her and causing her stomach to make unexpected flips. What was happening to her? It must be the medication.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” She repeated as she watched him retreat from her apartment and shut the door.

~*~

Killian couldn’t stop thinking about Emma as the days went by. He had almost given up hope that his words to her at her apartment had fallen on deaf ears when he got the message two days later.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think maybe we should meet.

He smiled. Now he just needed to work on his relationship with her. Get her to know the real Killian Jones before he told her he was JR10.

JR10: Of course, we will meet, but right now I’m in the middle of a project that needs…tweaking.”

It’s showtime.

He left the house ten minutes early, taking the route that would get him to Starbucks. He stood in line, keeping his distance from the blonde woman at the front of the line. When she turned to face him, his mouth dropped in fake surprise.

“Emma?”

Emma stopped, “Killian?”

“How funny running into you here. Do you come here often?”

“Just every morning.” She laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Weird, I come here every day too. Funny how we’ve never run into each other before. You look like you’re feeling better.”

She smiled. “Yes, much, thank you. Well, I should…”

He nodded, “Yes of course, nice seeing you.”

He ordered his drink and walked slowly past the table she was sitting at. Looking around he mumbled to himself. “It’s always so busy in here. Nowhere to sit.” Looking down he made eye contact with Emma and she sighed.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you. How have you been?”

“Great.” She said shortly. “I’ve started writing a book.”

“That’s wonderful news. How’s that fellow of yours? Have you met him yet?”

She looked down at her newspaper. “No.”

“No? What’s stopping you?”

She exhaled loudly. “He said he’s working on a project that needs tweaking.”

“Tweaking? What does that even mean?” He paused. “I bet he’s married.”

Her mouth dropped. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Of course not, how do you just ask someone if they’re married?”

“Pretty sure you say, are you married?” He laughed.

When he got home that evening, he found a message from Emma that made him smile.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been meaning to ask, are you married?

JR10: How could you ask me that? I thought we knew each other better than that. Wait, are your friends telling you that I’m probably married?”

That evening, after conveniently running into Emma at her favorite diner, he casually brought up her internet friend.

“So, he didn’t answer the question?”

Emma paused and then put her hand to her mouth. “I guess he didn’t, did he?”

“Maybe he’s fat.”

“Killian!” She exclaimed. “I don’t care about that.”

“You don’t care that maybe he’s horribly disfigured or walks with a limp. Maybe he spits when he talks.”

“I highly doubt that.” She snorted.

“Why else would he be taking so long to meet you? Maybe he’s…” He opened his mouth and then closed it.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Killian, what?”

“What if he’s waiting until he gets out of prison.”

“Oh stop. Will already thought he was a murderer.”

“What’s his username?”

“I’m not going to tell you his username.”

“It might help tell who he is.”

“Fine, JR10.”

“What kind of a name is that?” He huffed.

“Maybe it’s his initials.” She offered.

“Or how many tons he weighs. Just Round 10 tons.” He teased and she burst into laughter. “Or how old he is! Maybe you found a technological genius who is 10 years old.”

“Could be an address or a location…” She laughed. “No that would be stupid.” Killian tried not to choke on his coffee. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I mean besides being married or in prison, the only other deal breaker is the boat thing.”

“Boat thing?” He inquired.

“I could never be with a man who has a boat.” She said simply.

“I have a boat.” He said, his tone serious. “So that settles it.” She looked at him with confusion. “We’ll never be together.” He met her gaze, not breaking the contact.

“So, what is the book about?” He asked, changing the subject.

“It’s a children’s book, I know this editor from the store who wants to read it as soon as I’m done writing it. You know, JR10, he was the one who really made me think about writing.”

“You mean Mister 10 felonies committed before age 24?” he teased.

“More like Mister 10 ways into my soul.” She said almost lovingly, and he felt the desire to reach across the table and kiss her. “It’s weird how much we’ve been running into each other lately.”

“Wanna run into each other say, tomorrow, round lunch time?”

“Sounds great.” She said with a genuine smile.

Killian thought about Emma his entire walk home. The way her hair glowed bright with the sun shining on her, or how her eyes were the perfect shade of green. It was becoming harder to fight the urge to kiss her each time he saw here. He needed to tell her who he was, soon.

JR10: How about meeting me tomorrow? 4pm. The park on 88th. Where the flowers bloom in the garden and the path curves. You’ll find me there.

~*~

Emma stared at her computer. She was finally going to meet him. A part of her was excited, the other part of her was feeling something else that she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d been focused so much on meeting this man but between those moments she had formed something of a friendship with Killian Jones. It was a friendship that somehow she had learned to value.

He had offered her advice on her book, some to talk to about JR10, and in the times when they were together, a companionship that she had been missing. It was like he understood her better than anyone she had ever known before.

They were meeting for hot dogs for lunch, she was happy for the distraction from her nerves of meeting JR10later that evening. Killian would know the right thing to say to her to calm her down and prepare her for this meeting.

“Today?”

“I know right? This afternoon.”

“That’s very exciting, I bet he’s the clock maker on 82nd. You’ll never need to have your clock fixed again.”

“Stop. That guys like a hundred years old.”

His mouth grew wide. “That’s it, he’s 10 centuries old.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” She bit into her hot dog, ignoring the way he was watching her. Lately he had been looking at her with a feeling that was almost akin to want. Which was ridiculous but also gave her butterflies for some reason.

“He was smart. He waited until you were certain there was no other man in your life that you could love.” She glanced at him and nodded but then he set his hot dog down and stared at her, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “Sometimes I wonder…”

“What?” She asked anxiously, feeling like whatever he was about to say was important.

“If I wasn’t Jones Books, and you weren’t The Golden Swan, and we met…”

“Don’t do that.” She interrupted.

“I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have waited until I got home to call you. I would have asked you out for drinks, dinner, and your every desire, for as long as we both shall live.”

“Killian.” She warned.

“And then we wouldn’t have gone to war, and I wouldn’t have put you out of business.”

“Killian, please don’t.” Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I need to go.” She couldn’t be standing here listening to Killian saying these words to her, not now, not when she was finally getting to meet the man of her dreams.

“How come you can forgive him for standing you up, but you can’t forgive me for this tiny little thing of putting you out of business.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, how I wish you would.”

“I need to go.”

“You don’t want to be late.”

She turned away from him quickly, practically running down the sidewalk to put space between them. She needed to stop herself from turning around and kissing him.

Fleeing the scene, she returned to her home to prepare for her date with JR10, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Stepping out onto her sidewalk, she practically skipped to the park, she was about to meet the man of her dreams, the man who knew her better than she knew herself. Her soulmate.

She arrived early, taking her time to wander through the park, admiring the flowers, trying to embrace the nervous feelings currently building in her stomach. She stood on the path, where the curve bent around the park, adjusting her dress nervously.

“Smee.” She turned quickly, looking in the direction of the voice. A dog came bounding toward her, his leash dragging behind the pup. She bent down to pet the runaway dog when he came into view. She knew it, it was the only thing that made sense. It had to be him. He was her soulmate.

She stood up as he approached her, tears slipping from her eyes. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his chest. “Don’t cry lonelygirl.”

She looked up into his eyes. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it so badly.” He smiled and her heart melted as his lips touched hers.

Two lonely souls, Emma and Killian, had found love in the middle of a war over books.

[capnjay21]

The Wind Blows White 1/6

It’s been two years since Killian Jones and Emma Swan managed to escape the clutches of Brooke House, two years of waiting for it all to catch up to them and two years of pretending the cracks in their happy ending don’t show. But when the vision appears to Killian of a young boy unearthing the dagger and the darkness they had long since buried, it’s a race against time to try and stop another innocent from befalling the same fate. If they have the strength to face it.

Sequel to ‘A House is Never Still’.

A/N: Here it is, happy (slightly early) Halloween everyone! :D Confession time, I’ve actually been kinda nervous about posting this for a little while? Fretting over whether this one won’t be as good or scary as the original - but I am officially making a concerted effort not to care about any of that, because this is how the next part of the story goes and I’m excited to tell it! I hope you guys like it <3

***Editing to include the AMAZING art done by the lovely @hollyethecurious​ - I love it so much and I’m so excited by it. And for those that don’t know, she created the art that inspired the original fic so this is EXTRA cool!

Updates will probs be every other week to allow me to stay ahead. If it’s any consolation, they’re usually over 10k words, oof! Enjoy! 

AO3

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death and some certified Spooky Business™.

Taglist: @carpedzem @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @phiralovesloki @hollyethecurious @stahlop @peglegsjones @mariakov81 @seasailia @courtorderedcake​ @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @mrtinski @thisonesatellite @klynn-stormz @teamhook​ 

If anyone would like on, or off, the taglist, just let me know! 

-/-

1.  i won’t die in my sleep.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

The whispers woke her, as the whispers always did.

It took her a few dizzying moments to emerge completely from sleep, the vivid and fraught images of her restless dreaming spilling out into the darkness of the room. As usual, she could not move. Her muscles had seized, curled tightly around her stomach like a clenched fist, trembling with strain while her eyes blinked out into the dark. She could see the forest. The broad, sweeping trunks of old red oaks sprawled from the ground upward, their leaves stained crimson by blood while their bark wept tears the colour of potted ink. Only once observed did she really consider that there was so little in nature truly black, as pus the same shade as crows dribbled and oozed down the spines of every oak she could see.

Slowly, the numbness receded from her aching limbs, the reckless smears of her wakeless mind gave way to the shapes her eyes could make out, could confirm as being there, and like a prayer she whispered aloud every object she could see and smell and know was real.

“Chair,” she croaked, “desk. Lamp. Computer. Window. Gold –”

No. No gold. The basket of spun gold twine was the final little spill, tempting her to return to a nightmare it could kiss back into a dream.

She refused.

It disappeared.

The whispers had woken her, but once she rose she was alone in the dark.

Emma patted the bed beside her, and found the sheets bare and cool. He had been gone for some time already, then. Trying to suppress the growing tide of unease that always came from waking alone, she stood slowly, then stretched out her sore muscles. Sore from being clenched so tightly for what felt like hours. Usually Killian woke her before it reached this point, but clearly he hadn’t even been there for its beginning.

She sighed. Thought about calling him. The clock on her nightstand winked in and out. 2:17am.

There was no point, anyway. She knew where he’d be.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

As usual, it was raining.

Beyond the stretch of porch in front of him, sheets of water fell in a relentless assault on the sodden ground, and Killian mopped at his already sweaty brow. The air was thick and moist, even this early in the morning, the height of an unusually punishing June. He let the downpour carry on for another few moments before ducking out into it, bending to lift the wide bowl he had left sitting on the grass a couple of minutes earlier. Now filled to the brim with rainwater, he brought it back underneath the shelter of the porch and laid it down on the ground.

He'd had that dream again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There was a noise from not too far away, the screech of metal on concrete in the dark and the answering leap of a car horn out into the night air, but he tried to push it from his mind. This would never work if he couldn’t clear his thoughts. Folding his legs underneath him, Killian leant forward until he could see his reflection staring back at him from the bowl.

The surface of the water was inky black, the faint caresses of a breeze brushing ripples across the surface and making his reflection appear distorted, but he tried to see beyond that. Beyond his tired eyes and the hurt and the heat, to something more. Silently, he willed the dark pool to show him something else.

Show me the boy, he asked out into the dark. Show me the boy at the creek with the dagger.

Even just the thought of the dagger, the curling blade they had sent hurling into the ravine, brought forth a rush of unwelcome and jarring memories. The dagger, floating in the middle of their circle, summoning a storm of black lightning and hurt and that nothing, that awful nothing, and Killian could feel something tugging at the centre of his chest, beckoning him forward.

He couldn’t see his reflection anymore. The surface of the water was blank.

Not like this, he thought furiously, wrestling for control.

It wasn’t interested in his control. If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall. This was the bargain.

But –

He thought of her at home, in their bed, resting fitfully.

This was the bargain.

Emma.

Killian gasped for air, which was when he realised the tightness in his chest was because he hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. He almost fell forward, and his right hand shot out to the deck of the porch to stop his face from crashing into the bowl – which was when he realised it was just a bowl of water again. His reflection stared back at him, breathing heavily, eyes wild and afraid.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

In his mind’s eye, he could see it perfectly. The sparkling summer day. The boy, knelt with his right arm in the creek before he pulled it out, and the dagger with it.

Dragging his eyes away from the bowl, he reached into his pocket for his phone. The clock on the display ticked onto 2:17am.

Still? He thought, bewildered.

“You should be used to this sort of shit by now,” he muttered, before emptying the bowl onto the grass.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Henry only knew this because it had been 2:17am for a really long time already, but every time he checked the clock it was the same.

“Gotta be broken,” he mumbled, letting it drop back onto his nightstand. He told himself to roll over, to go back to sleep, Mom was making pancakes tomorrow and he didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy them, but something kept lingering at the edge of his awareness. Like a movement that was too quick to spot, or a sound too quiet to take shape, or that sensation after someone had taken a deep breath and they were waiting to speak, but wouldn’t utter a word until he looked at them.

Something was different, and it niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

Somehow, he didn’t feel alone in his bedroom anymore.

He rolled over again, and this time his eyes instantly locked onto the shoebox he had stuffed under his dresser. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. Whatever he was feeling – it was coming from there, and the object he had hidden inside.

The dagger he had found at the creek.

It was… whispering to him.

Come, it hissed out into the dark. Listen.

Henry’s hand tightened on the covers. Then he gently pushed them back and sat up.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Robert should have been home hours ago, and Belle couldn’t sleep for worry.

Her heart stuttered into hopefulness with every shadow that passed in front of the pawn shop window, but each one merely reached the other side with barely a glance back at her. She thought about calling the police, but surely they would dismiss her concerns so early into the morning. It’s normal, ma’am, they would say, and laugh about wives wondering after their wandering husbands. But this was different.

There was something about the way he had looked tonight, something wild and dangerous and careless in his eye, that had made her want to take three steps back every time he opened his mouth to speak. His tongue had lingered over softer sounds, tickled by a secret that only it knew. Like an animal, his sharp eyes had followed her around the shop as they closed, and when he kissed her it had sent a shiver down her spine.

It had frightened her. He had frightened her.

You’ll see, he had said, when she asked where he was going. You’ll see.

Belle didn’t want to see. She just wanted him to come home. Her mind railed against the truth that had already started to creep into the corner of her heart.

Tonight, he had gone to Brooke House.

And Brooke House did not want to give him back.

-/-

Liam Jones didn’t care what fucking time it was.

Aching and exhausted, he kicked open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The air was dank and cold, and smelled faintly of mildew, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him. Killian had needed three blankets before he could get to sleep earlier, the act of being inside the house only slightly warmer than the harsh early spring outside, but still sweat pooled at the base of Liam’s neck. His hands felt clammy with a layer of grit that he could never wipe away, and the moisture on his skin froze the moment he walked out into the night.

But under his skin, he burned with cold fury.   

He’d have to pretend to be Brennan and call the school again tomorrow, there was no way he could go in if he needed to be up for the rest of the night. He could send Killian over to Smee’s, that was one problem dealt with. The older man would take him into elementary school; but even that solution summoned the familiar rush of dread that came to Liam whenever he thought of his little brother moving into middle school next year. That would make everything so much more difficult to hide from concerned and nosy neighbours alike. 

How had he let this happen? Again? They had been making so much progress.

Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He should just hurry up and drop out. He was good with his hands, he could make a living doing carpentry jobs, move to some quiet town upstate maybe –

I’m just trying to prepare you for life’s big question, Liam.

What kind of man are you going to be?

A quiet town upstate? He was really setting the bar low for pipe dreams these days.

Then there was always the chance Brennan might be himself again by morning; maybe he could call the school. Could drive Killian in. Maybe he’d be up before the sun rose like he used to, whistling a sea shanty and cooking them eggs over easy.

 Now there was a pipe dream.

What time was it? A distracted pat of his jacket let him know his phone was still inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to go back in yet. It had to be late. Or early. Wednesday. The recycling went out on Wednesday. Which mean they were two days closer to Friday, which was the eighteenth. Water bill went out on the eighteenth.

Brennan hadn’t worked in weeks. They’d be short.

No heat and no water. The only things he could rely on in this house were the bricks and the mortar.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

Liam resisted the urge to scream. At the night, at the cold, at whatever curse had captured his family and refused to let them go.

It was 2:17am.

And Liam wasn’t alone on the porch.

Once alerted to the intruder he stumbled backward, fumbling around for anything he could use as a weapon.

“Liam?”

Liam froze, his fist having clenched around the shard of a shattered flowerpot Brennan had destroyed last week.

The stranger hadn’t moved, stood silhouetted against the porch light.

He blinked. Willed his racing heart to slow.

“Who are you?”

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Except, no, it wasn’t.

Emma frowned and looked at her phone again, and the correct time stared back at her; 10:41am. How had she thought it said anything different?

She shook her head. Shit, she really needed to get more sleep. Her foot resumed tapping its restless beat on the floor of the almost empty corridor.

The entire hall was almost completely deserted, only the low murmur of conversation ricocheting against thin walls and tall ceilings, and everything was beige. Beige walls, beige floors, beige murals; she fucking hated beige, it was such a non-colour. Just pick something a bit more appealing and stick to it. But in her not-all-that-limited experience, most government buildings seemed to default to beige, and it was no different in the Seattle equivalent of the DMV. They had been led up to the customer service desk almost half an hour ago, but nobody seemed to care about how goddamn important this was, and her anxiety was climbing with every unattended second that ticked past.

Somewhere down the corridor a door opened, and Emma immediately whipped around to look at it. A broad, cheerful man offered her a bemused smile at the sudden sharp attention he was being given, before disappearing out through another door.

“You need to calm down,” Killian mused.

A glance at him confirmed his eyes were still closed, head tilted to lean back against the wall with his hands folded over his stomach, but her impatience had to have been obvious even without looking at her. She huffed in a way which she knew made her sound puerile, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. From the moment they had been seated there he had stayed silent, and it was only fuelling her irritation that she couldn’t settle on whether that was because he was bored, tired or just giving her room to complain and agitate to her heart’s content. She preferred to know exactly what Killian was thinking.

The memory of waking alone the night before still smarted, and she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t Killian’s job to always be at her side on the off chance she didn’t sleep through the night. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and she knew whatever had caught his attention this time had kept him up at least an hour or so after she had summoned the courage to climb back into bed. She had still been awake when he slid back in beside her, but she had pretended to be asleep.

He had probably known she was doing it, which was why he had kissed an apology into her shoulder and held her a little tighter than usual.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he hadn’t technically done anything to make her mad – and he was already sorry about the thing he shouldn’t have to be sorry for.

Which just made her feel even worse.

“I hate beige,” she grumbled.

Killian let out a breath of warm, ticklish laughter, something that growled pleasantly in his throat. Some of her temper ebbed away. “I know,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere pink after.”

“There’s that big hotel in Hawaii that’s totally pink, right? What do they call that?”

He opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “And maybe when our next skip is the Queen of England, we’ll be able to afford to go there.” Even less than thirty seconds of talking to him, properly, she could feel her mood lifting. He reached one of his hands into her lap, seeking hers, and she let him thread their fingers together. “I was actually thinking donuts. The strawberry glazed kind?”

Emma sighed happily. “Make it chocolate and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “Whatever you want.”

His mood seemed light, but she wasn’t fooled. The way she would catch his eyes flickering carefully between her and the customer service desk in front of them told her all she really needed to know about the direction of his thoughts – they probably shared the same sinking feeling that had washed over her since they had arrived.

That this almost definitely wasn’t going to go her way.

“Ms. Swan?”

Immediately Emma was on her feet, bolting over to the desk as quickly as polite company would allow, Killian close behind, all traces of mirth evaporated from his expression. The man who had come to meet them wasn’t the same one who had led them up to the desk earlier, and a quick glance at his nametag told Emma they were speaking to a Mr. Heller. He resembled every bureaucrat that had ever taken residence in her imagination, thin in a sickly way and sort-of feeble-looking, but with a snide tug at the corner of his mouth which suggested he was not going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he was enjoying the prospect immensely.

The sick feeling in her gut deepened.

“Thank you for waiting,” he said, in a bored tone, skimming the file he was holding. Emma tried to lift herself a little taller to take a look at it, but it was angled slightly away from her. “We were able to track down the license plate you requested in your application, but it was recalled eleven years ago. The vehicle it was registered to is no longer in use.”

It was easy to push back the first wave of disappointment – a setback, but not the most important thing. “But you know who it belonged to?”

Heller sighed heavily, and let the folder close. “I’m afraid the Washington State Licensing Department has denied your public records request regarding the owners of the plate.”

It was like a punch to the stomach. She could feel the warmth of Killian’s palm splayed against the small of her back, gently reassuring.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be another dead end.

“On what grounds?” he was asking, and she felt a rush of gratitude for him as she hadn’t quite been able to form her mouth around the words.

“Not enough evidence,” Heller continued, in that same flat tone that was beginning to grate. “We reviewed the article you sent, about the circumstances of the abandoned child at the edge of the road. There isn’t a lot of information available regarding the incident, even at the county level.”

“Well, it happened,” Emma replied hotly. “It’s me. I was the kid.”

Another banner year, right?

What?

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Heller quirked an eyebrow. “Then the department offers their sympathies. But there is no reason to suggest the plate you requested belonged to the vehicle involved.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Maine is a long way from Seattle.”

But she had seen it.

She had experienced the moment that changed the course of her life hundreds, thousands of times at the behest of a malevolent demon, while to the rest of the world she had been missing for five years. Even before that, the very fact of her being abandoned on the side of the road as a baby had cast its shadow over her entire life. Achieving any measure of answers about it had been unobtainable. She had made her peace with that a long time ago.

But then she became trapped in Brooke House.

And Brooke House had given her a few more pieces of the puzzle.

It felt like a dream, now. Like the scatter of smoke, or déjà vu. Something she couldn’t really be sure had happened. She had spent five years of her life suspended in a place that showed only her regrets, her fears, her desperate desires; anything that would make her pray for deliverance. In the two years she had spent free of it all, her ability to conjure up and consult those visions waxed and waned. The images it had shown her sometimes dribbled back like the trickle of a raindrop down glass to her waiting, thirsty mouth, but nothing was ever enough. While that feeling, that sensation of being left again, and again, and again remained seared onto her mind forever, the actual, physical details of the day her parents abandoned her were scarce. The vision was difficult to bring into focus.

Two months ago, a nightmare had caught her so tightly that Killian hadn’t been able to wake her for six minutes. Just when he had been reaching for his phone in a panic to dial 911, she had burst free; gasping, aching – awake and alive. The details had been so vivid. Before her eyes, her parents abandoned her at the side of the freeway; only this time she had spotted and could recall the plate of the car that had left her.

They had packed everything they owned into Killian’s Chevelle and made for Seattle in a matter of days.

This couldn’t be the end of the road. Not after everything she had been through to get here. She deserved answers, damn it.

“That’s the thing about cars,” Emma replied coolly, “they drive. And if you’re abandoning a kid, you’re not likely to do it on your own doorstep, are you?”

Heller looked bored. “You’re welcome to make an appeal against the department’s decision, so long as you do so within four to six weeks.”

“But I saw – we have a witness!”

“A witness?” His tone was disbelieving, and he fixed her with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you say so before?” Emma opened her mouth, but Killian pinched the side of her waist sharply and she hesitated. When she didn’t immediately confirm her declaration, Heller’s eyebrows rose victoriously. “Would they be prepared to come down here and make a statement?”

“We can ask,” Killian replied smoothly, before she could say anything. He whipped a notepad and a pen from his pocket. “Is it the same address we submit the appeal to, or –?”

Emma fumed quietly at his side. She knew why he had cut her off, before she could dig herself into a hole that would ensure state officials labelled her as halfway to crazy town, but it was infuriating. She couldn’t very well say their witness was her and the visions a haunted house halfway across the country had given her – a house which they had no physical evidence even existed, as it had since disappeared.

Silently, she smouldered.

Killian reached absently for her hand. She tugged it out of his grip.

Heller and Killian confirmed the logistics of an appeal process, but before long they were being thanked dully for their time and invited to leave. Emma stayed quiet for their entire walk out of the building, and she could sense Killian intentionally kept some space between them to allow her to adequately process what had happened in there.

Nothing. Nothing was what had happened in there.

Emma could feel the tide of something tight at the top of her stomach, like her insides were cramping. It was how she felt when she woke, uncertain, in the middle of the night.

“We’ll find another way, Emma,” Killian spoke gently as they stepped out into the morning sunlight.

Emma waved a dismissive hand and tried to focus her gaze on the particulars of the street. The chequered red, blue and silver line of cars parked along the sidewalk, the scent of wet asphalt and the hum of traffic whizzing by. They were far from a forest here – but she could feel the quiet whisper of the trees against her skin.

“I know, I know, I just –” She curled her toes in her boots, felt the stiff concrete beneath her feet. “I’m – tired of hitting brick walls.”

“We’ve got a little cash in the bank,” Killian pointed out, “maybe for the appeal we could hire a solicitor, just see if there’s anything else we can do to help our case.”

He was frowning at the note he had scribbled down during their conversation with Heller, his mind already four or five steps further ahead, and Emma felt a rush of affection for him. For his solidness and his patience. His tenacity was well documented, he had spent five years searching for answers about Brooke House and had never once given up on the idea that he would find them, and her along with them – even now he refused to let any speedbumps hamper their progress. It was so easy for her to get struck down by the first sign of resistance, but Killian persisted in a way she could only ever hope of emulating.

Nothing in the street felt tangible beside the resilience and vibrance of Killian Jones. Sometimes it felt like he was the only real thing she had found outside of Brooke House.

Like dust, the cars and the concrete and the chorus of the Seattle summer drifted away.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, praying for an anchor.

“How are you always so optimistic?”

“Because I know what you’re capable of,” he replied easily, although it felt like he was speaking to her from a great distance. Emma fought to inhabit this moment. “And I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Killian was smiling, which had always done its best to keep monsters at bay.

In a blur the noises returned, like a radio slowly tuning into focus.

“Emma?” he queried softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you still with me?”

The wet splatters of rain against the yearning canopy receded as it stretched for the sky.

Down the street a car horn blared, and she let it shake her firmly back into the present.

In Seattle, the sun was shining, and Killian was here. Standing so close to his warmth made her feel like a thief, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him.

“Donuts,” she managed, nodding firmly. “I need a whole lot of donuts.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “You read my mind.”

-/-

Killian railed against the idea of calling Elsa’s home a house.

It was a huge, sprawling behemoth of a structure, with vast corridors that led nowhere and innumerable superfluous rooms that all looked identical, with walls scaled by books and furniture shrouded in neat, ivory sheeting to protect them from dust and age. More than once he had found himself completely and utterly lost while attempting to find the bathroom, which he was convinced changed locations every time he visited it, and that wasn’t even mentioning the size of the grounds which circled the outside of the house.

Embedded deep within the winding roads of West Bellevue, he was grateful for the opportunity to interact with something a little less urban than the busy street he and Emma had rented their flat on, and Elsa had opened up her home to all assortments of waifs and strays long before he had ever come on the scene. Truthfully, it was sheer coincidence that they had even met, crossing paths in downtown Seattle late one night – but then, he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. He had been searching for something more, and she had been offering something for him to find. The rest was inevitable.

Clear night, isn’t it?

The room in which he spent the most time was the large dining room – the long table that would ordinarily occupy its centre was, as ever, pushed to the side against one wall and loaded with edible treats already half depleted, clearing the way for Elsa’s guests to arrange themselves on the floor in any number of styles depending on what the evening requested of them. The windows always remained open, so the room was immersed in the earthy scent of the outside, of wet moss and woodsmoke and pine, and the rain from the night before somehow made everything so much more pervasive.

Aurora stood in the centre of the room with her eyes closed, her hands held palm up with a pinecone resting atop them, while the rest of Elsa’s guests sat spread out across the room with their palms turned to the ceiling, mimicking the same position.

Killian sat at the edge of the room, notebook resting open in his lap, and observed.

Elsa stood, made her way over to Aurora, and placed her hands over the other woman’s.

“Child of earth, wind, fire and sea,” she spoke clearly out into the silent room. “We welcome you into our lives, into our homes, and into the waiting embrace of this powerful, caring woman. Think fondly on her, and choose her, as we have, to be part of your family.”

As Aurora opened her eyes, Anna stepped forward holding a candle in one hand and a ceramic bowl scattered with herbs in the other.

“Light it,” Elsa encouraged her, and Aurora held the pinecone over the candle until it caught.

The flame grew rapidly, Killian remembered reading somewhere that it had to do with the natural resins so near to the surface in pinecones, and soon Aurora dropped it into the bowl. Once there, the contents of the bowl started to gently smoulder and the scent of sweetgrass and sage began to float out into the air.

Killian took a deep breath. Let it wash over him for a few quiet, tender moments.

He wasn’t sure why, but he always felt closest to Liam here.

Aurora was smiling, and Elsa grinned back.

“Blessed be,” she said warmly. “And good luck!”

The group echoed a fractured but delighted blessed be, in response, before breaking out into a smattering of claps and spirited cheers. A few jumped to their feet to envelope Aurora in a loving, haphazard embrace.

No, house didn’t really cover the breadth of what Elsa’s home had become to this community, or the reality of what Killian had found there.  

This was a covenstead.

It wasn’t the first coven Killian had ever encountered – his first had been in Pennsylvania a number of years ago, but they had been intensely private and suspicious of strangers, and their association had not extended more than a few weeks. Long before now it had become his habit to deliberately seek out suggestions of the world that existed beyond what they could see. It had started because of Brooke House, because of the mistakes they had made when they were seventeen and naïve and frightened; after Emma had disappeared, Killian had searched for answers anywhere he could. He had five years to cross the globe, to pursue every lead and overturn every stone that might hint at something more, with varying levels of success.

Now, Killian had spent so long searching that he wasn’t sure he remembered how to be anything else. Getting Emma back, rather than being the end of his fascination with the otherworldly, had only fuelled it. There were still so many questions he didn’t have answers to, with Liam being chief among them. His brother had been involved in all this, had known about this barely perceivable double life that some among them were living, but Killian still had no idea about the how, or the why.

Emma was his life now. Everything he had ever wanted. For so long, his sole focus had been in making this world as right for her as possible, in giving her the tools with which she could build her new reality and hoping desperately that she still wanted him in it; while privately wrestling with that disquieting sensation that accompanied stepping away from the bizarre and the unexplained for the first time in a long while.

It was difficult, he had realised, to come to terms with the fact that everything you wanted wouldn’t stay everything you needed for the rest of your life.

And Killian needed something.

On their third night in Seattle, he had met Elsa. The very same night he had first had the dream about the boy and the creek and the dagger.

He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Soon after Elsa wrapped up the ceremony, the group began to disperse, some aiming for a few treats to take for the road while others went to collect coats and bags from the hall. For his part, Killian took more care than necessary slipping his notebook back into his already overpacked bag and began shrugging on his jacket. The ending of these meetings always left him feeling oddly bereft, like although every week he walked in with no idea what he would find, somehow his expectations were never met. Or perhaps it was the realisation that always came when he watched the members of the coven at its conclusion, mingling and trading smiles and stories about the week that had just passed.

He wasn’t one of them. They were all kind enough, and they liked him, but he wasn’t part of them. They wondered why he was there as much as he did.

Watching them, his heart throbbed for the one place that had always been home; for that warm, golden light, for Regina’s lasagne and David’s terrible jokes and Mary Margaret’s helpful reminders to enjoy happily ever after. His chest hurt for the wanting of it.

The clerk at the DMV the day before had been right: Maine was a long way from Seattle.

He turned to leave.

“Killian, hi there.” It was Elsa, calling him back, and he fixed on a cheerful smile as he pivoted on the spot to face her. “I hope today wasn’t too women-centric for you.”

Aurora was trying for a baby with her husband; as a result, they had focused the evening on fertility. The lighting of the pinecone was a ritual from Elsa’s book of shadows, and had followed a relaxing evening spent sharing poetry and prayers and best wishes about family.

(At the very least, that probably explained why he was feeling so homesick.)

“Not at all,” he assured her, not least because he didn’t feel fertility was an exclusively female pursuit. There were plenty of men there tonight. “It’s a pleasure to observe. Thank you again for inviting me into your home.”

“Anyone is welcome here, there’s no need to thank me.”

He was reminded, again, of how different Elsa’s coven were to the one in Pennsylvania; Elsa made a point of opening up the covenstead to anyone at any time, not just during their meetings. It was Elsa’s home, but it was also effectively a refuge or meeting place for any of its members whenever they needed it. The grounds in particular were always accessible, and something Killian himself had taken advantage of more than once.

Especially when he wanted to – well. Dip his toe into something Emma would never approve of. The covenstead felt like a safer place to explore those private desires.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

“You know,” Elsa was saying “if you would like to participate rather than just observe, we’d be happy to invite you to join us.”

For a moment he could see it; himself, sat on cushions with the rest of the group, palms up and eyes closed and waiting for wonders to begin again.

The image immediately fell apart as visions began to swim of a pentagram penned in black marker, scattered salt and a dagger rising above the swell of a storm.

This was the bargain.

“Oh,” Killian let out uneasily, trying to find the best way to refuse without sounding impolite. “No, that’s alright. Really.” Elsa looked a little disappointed, and he hurried to reassure her. “I’ve… had some experience with the miraculous. It didn’t exactly go well.”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

“I wouldn’t say what we do here is miraculous,” Elsa replied, but he could see she was quietly pleased by the comparison. Awkwardness settled like dust between them, neither considering the conversation finished, but before they could continue a few people cut between them on their way out of the dining room and into the hall. They called out their goodbyes to Elsa as they passed, and she returned them warmly. Killian lingered until they were finished, fiddling with the strap on his bag.

Once they were gone, she took a step towards him.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Killian shrugged. “By all means.”

“Why is it that you come to our meetings?” she clasped her hands in front of her, in a gesture Killian couldn’t help but interpret as deliberately nonthreatening. “And if you say Anna’s fruit loaf I might believe you, but I don’t really think that’s what it is.”

The question felt like it should be impolite, loaded with a query that went beyond their unspoken arrangement; that he could come, and he could watch, and she, like the rest of the group, would leave him be – but he was uninjured by her curiosity. Curiosity was, after all, what had brought him there.

So he surprised himself by being honest.

“For… proof, I guess?” he lifted his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “That the world is still – strange?” The way Elsa watched him, almost waiting for him to continue, made that answer feel inadequate. He cleared his throat and searched for more to offer. “I actually lost my brother, a long time ago, now – and I still don’t fully understand why. And my partner, she…”

So good of you to finally come and see me.

“She went through something I can’t even begin to comprehend. But she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Elsa nodded slowly. “Sometimes what we don’t say speaks more for what troubles us.”

“Yeah,” Killian agreed, feeling oddly liberated by the opportunity to confide in someone. All he could think of was Emma in the dead of night, clenched tightly in their bed, her arms and knees curled against her chest as she fought darkness only she could see. “Yeah, it does.”

“Perhaps she’d like to come along to a meeting?” Elsa suggested. “There’s no obligation to partake. She could observe, as you do.”

“Oh, no. No. She hates all this stuff.”

Emma had already made clear her opinion on the covenstead in Bellevue, she was not interested; and he felt compelled to apologise on her behalf, seeing as they were all perfectly good people who had done nothing to offend her.

“It’s just — that something, I mentioned,” he offered. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Elsa spread her hands. It was neither here nor there to her, he was sure. She couldn’t offer help to someone who didn’t want to receive it. “Have a good week, Killian. Will we be seeing you at our Litha celebration?”

Litha, Killian had learnt, was the wicca celebration of Midsummer, which took place on the summer solstice at the end of June. It traditionally heralded the beginning of summer, with its focus on fertility and the championing of light over darkness manifesting in the longest day of the year. The coven had planned an evening full of festivities including a large bonfire, an almost drastic amount of food and a lot of promised general merriment. Elsa had said last year two among their number had decided to spontaneously marry during the festival; in their eyes, the perfect way to celebrate new life and regeneration.

It sounded like a lot of fun. In the bleak, uninspiring, greyscape that Seattle had become to him in the last two months, it was a breath of life and the outdoors that he would be grateful for.

But he wasn’t really sure if he should. Especially with – well. With Emma.

“Sure,” he said, just to be polite. “If I can get away. That would be nice.”

He meant it. Elsa smiled understandingly, as if she knew he had no clear intention of attending but would let him maintain the charade for the sake of pleasant company – she was kind, and she didn’t really know him, but she had still invited him into her home without a single caveat. The coven respected her. Killian would like nothing more than to introduce her to Emma; he was sure whatever she refused to talk to him about she could bring before the other woman without fear of shame or regret, or whatever else she must think would come from Killian that prevented her from being honest.

Not that he was being entirely honest with her, either; she knew he came to the covenstead more often than their weekly meetings, but she didn’t know what he had been trying to do there. She couldn’t know. It was better she focused on the future, on the path ahead, on the fact that she was free, now, from the nightmare behind them.

It was lonely, he had come to realise, being the only one with unfinished business.

Clear night, isn’t it?

“Elsa, wait,” he said, before he could think better of it. A jolt of nervous energy ran through him, his feet squaring imperceptibly on the laminate floor beneath him as if they were ready to run, but he forced himself to stay where he was. “Actually, I’ve… for the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to scry.”

Elsa’s eyebrows shot upwards.

He could understand her surprise, given he had shown no interest in participating in any of the wicca crafts since he had started coming to the Bellevue covenstead. Scrying was something he had only really read about, but never seen performed; it was the practice of, at its core, looking into a suitable medium in the hope of detecting significant messages of visions. While the most notorious method of which remained fortunes told over crystal balls, the history of the craft extended far beyond recent iterations of neopaganism. Cultures as far back as ancient Egyptians and Babylonians had practiced scrying by gazing into stone dishes filled with palm oil.

Killian had never really bought into it – but its existence as a medium through which he might gain some insight had been too tempting not to at least attempt, and the results were, well. Inconclusive.  

He stumbled over himself to continue. “I usually try at night, and mostly with rainwater, as I’ve heard that’s more potent? But I’ve also tried with tap water, and mirrors, too. But I’m finding it difficult to find direction.” He shrugged helplessly; his mouth felt bone dry. “It’s like staring out into silt.”

“Scrying is a challenging craft,” Elsa confirmed. “What is it you’re trying to see?”

He hesitated. Not just because he was reluctant to confirm the details for fear of sounding – well. Halfway to crazy town, as Emma would put it, but it was also this: he didn’t want Elsa to be part of it. Any of it. If he could protect one more person from the demons in his past, he would prefer to do so.

“I’ve… been having this dream,” he answered carefully. “A nightmare, really. It makes me worry someone might be in trouble because of something I didn’t finish.”

Come. Listen.

The quiet truth knocked gently. They had been naïve to assume it was over.

Elsa hummed thoughtfully. “Often, dreams are just manifestations of our anxieties –”

“This is different,” he said firmly. “I can feel it.”

Killian didn’t sleep the way Emma slept, treading that breathless line between the waking world and the rest, fumbling in those in-between spaces, sometimes needing help discerning where the truest threads of herself should lie. They had developed a number of strategies for her, routines to perform while waking to know she was no longer asleep; listing the objects she could see and smell and taste as chief among them. Anything to help her cling to the world above and pull her out.

Killian did not sleep that way. The delineation for him was clear.

Which was how he knew this was more than just a nightmare.

Elsa seemed to take his confidence at his word, and instead turned her attention back to the wider room.

“Tink, would you come over here?”

Tink was not her name, but nobody ever called her anything else, so Tink was what Killian had come to know her by. Her features were sharp, her wit just as cutting, and she had made a point of behaving as indifferently to him as possible in a way he found both frustrating and a little refreshing – somebody else acting like he didn’t belong there helped remind him he was separate, he was apart from all this. Currently, she stood looking exceptionally guilty by the dining table, three small cupcakes placed precariously on top of each other and clearly about to be tucked away in some tupperware for her return journey. Killian didn’t blame her. The lemon cakes were always especially divine.

“Tink is our resident expert on divining arts,” Elsa informed him after spotting his rather put out expression. In a few moments, Tink had joined them. “Killian has been trying to scry but hasn’t had a lot of luck.”

Tink wrinkled her nose. “Nasty business, scrying. Wouldn’t bother.”

“I’ve been having this dream I’m trying to –”

“Oh, boy. It’s amateur hour. Trouble with dreams, go see an oneiromancer. Or a therapist.”

Killian bit back a retort; he was somewhat regretting the decision to come clean already.

“Killian believes this is more than a dream,” Elsa spoke quietly, but firmly, “and it’s not our business to interpret another’s instincts. We were hoping you could provide some insight.”

When Tink turned her shrewd eyes onto him, he merely lifted a shoulder in a helpless gesture. “You said it,” he pointed at himself, “amateur hour.”

Tink looked immensely reluctant, but as her gaze flickered between Elsa’s imploring request and Killian’s discomfort, she finally heaved a defeated sigh.

“Agh, shit.”

She took a bite out of a lemon cake.

Through chews, she carried on.

“Catch me up. What’ve you tried so far?”

-/-

The quiet blip of a notification turned Emma’s attention away from the window and back to her laptop. She smirked triumphantly – finally some good news.

“There you are,” she muttered, “sneaky bastard.”

She and Killian had been tracking down the same skip for a few days – so far none of their usual tactics could draw him out, but his credit card had just been used at a convenience store around the corner from his previous place of employment. The first time she had gone to that office she’d had a feeling everybody was behaving just a little shady. Now she knew she was right to be suspicious and resolved to pay them another visit in the morning, provided Killian was alright with it.

Well, she corrected, only if she decided to give Killian a say. Emma’s gaze skimmed the empty flat. If he wanted to spend the night messing around with delusional, self-proclaimed witches, then she got to make the work decisions by herself.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of the house in Bellevue Killian liked to retreat to these days; why couldn’t he have joined a local rec team or found some obnoxious new drinking buddies like a normal guy? The group at Bellevue were all just a bunch of tree-huggers, even worse than Regina. Emma knew what real magic was. And it wasn’t dancing around a field wearing flower crowns or mumbling limericks over a cauldron.

Emma quickly jotted down the address and the details regarding the skip’s purchase. It usually helped to be able to throw everything in her arsenal at getting past the front desk of any office. Bail bonds was a career she and Killian had fallen into almost accidentally – it suited the nomadic lifestyle they preferred, and blended Emma’s instincts for catching someone in a lie and Killian’s propensity towards investigation quite well. It just worked. And they needed some way to get food on the table.

David had offered them work at the veterinary shelter more times than she could count, but she was sure that had a lot more to do with wanting them to stay back home in Storybrooke than anything else. But Storybrooke couldn’t be for them what it was to him and Mary Margaret, and Regina; not anymore. There were too many splintered memories. Not to mention half the town still thought Killian had kidnapped her and kept her in a cave somewhere for five years. The lines had to be carefully drawn.

The notes for their appeal were sat in a haphazard clump behind the laptop, and the stack looked exactly how Emma felt about it; worn, sad, and a little flustered. It had only been a few days, but something about the disappointment at the DMV left her feeling wrecked and restless all it once. It didn’t feel over, but whenever she thought about burying herself back in the endless bureaucratic process all she wanted to do was hit the pavement and not stop running until she fell off the corner of the map. She wanted to be outside. Balmy air drifted in through the open window, coloured by the frustrated yelps and the gentle roar of cars in the busy evening.

She paused, listening for the familiar growl of Killian’s Chevelle. Nothing.

With a jolt, she realised her pen was still in her hand and had been working idly against the paper. She peered over at the notepad, hoping she hadn’t doodled over her notes about the credit card – and nearly knocked over the laptop as she jerked backwards.

Scribbled over every inch of the page, completely obscuring anything underneath it, she had written her name. Over and over.

In a twisted, medieval cursive she had only ever seen in one other place.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

The dagger swam into focus, and Emma resisted the urge to retch, clutching tightly at the desk in front of her with her left hand. Her right lay motionless across its surface, a foreign object to her now, a traitor which had scrawled out the pall that nestled around her shoulders and given it physical form. It was disquieting enough to see it there, a restless dream broken out, but only more disturbing to not remember having put it there.

She stood abruptly. Tore the page free, scrunched it up with that now untrustworthy hand, and dropped it down onto the floor.

Leaving the laptop open, she stalked out of the bedroom and across the hall to their tiny kitchen, determined to regain some control over the course of the evening, constantly clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist at her side. The kitchen was little more than two counters facing each other atop a strip of gaudy orange tiles with barely enough space for one person to pass by another, but they managed. They had never needed a lot of space, and their budget hadn’t been able to stretch particularly far. If they hadn’t needed a permanent address in order to submit the public records request, she probably would have made a case for sleeping in the Chevelle somewhere once they made it to the city.

Still, Killian had pointed out there was something nice about having a home base that wasn’t just the backseat of a car, and his suggestive glances at the bed when the realtor had taken them round had not gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.

It was just – right then, especially without him in it, she didn’t want it. The lack of furniture, of personal affects, the rumpled sheets and the cracked plaster walls made it a gaping hole of something desolate and harsh. The jaws of something wanting in the shape of four walls and a door with a barely functional lock. She longed for the Chevelle and the torn leather seats, for something wild and alive.

At night Seattle burnt, and Emma yearned for home.

Not to mention it rained all the fucking time.

The door to the flat opened and closed, and Emma called out a greeting as she poured herself a glass of water. Killian didn’t reply. Assuming he had his headphones on, Emma allowed herself a few moments to breathe. She’d tell him about the credit card alert, let him know she was going by the skip’s office again in the morning and he could come along if he wanted, but she probably wouldn’t need the backup. Cornering a skip somewhere surrounded by friends and colleagues usually made them more amenable to coming quietly. Then she would ask as politely as she could manage about his evening and try not look too sour if he used the word covenstead again, instead of big fucking house.

Emma emerged from the kitchen, but he wasn’t setting his bag down in the sitting room like she was expecting him to be. Frowning, Emma re-entered the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Her right hand twitched.

It felt numb, like she had been holding it in cold water for a few minutes. She could barely feel her other hand when she brushed her palms together, just the whisper of a touch instead of skin.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Killian.

Leaving now – should be 30mins. Stopping for snacks. Want anything?

Behind her, the door into the kitchen creaked, and the tap started to run.

Her mind rang with the dull truth slowly, like a bell tolling at dusk.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Her heart stuttered against her ribcage.

Immediately searching for anything she could use as a weapon, Emma darted back over to her desk to reach for one of the hardback file folders they used for work, but as she leant across to reach for it she froze.

Her laptop had been closed, and on top of it placed a clumsily straightened, crumpled bit of paper.

Her mouth went dry at its familiar script.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

Still through the doorway came the splurge from the rapidly filling kitchen sink, and Emma began to panic. She couldn’t go out there. Not now. Not now she couldn’t know, couldn’t be sure if there was anyone there to find or if she had unknowingly slipped back into sleep and this was just another spill. Her feet were frozen, dug in like anxious roots into earth, while her attention remained fixed on the hallway for every single sound or breath of movement.  

As quietly as she could, Emma closed the door to the bedroom. For good measure, she grabbed the desk chair and hooked it under the handle so it couldn’t turn, the noise masked by the water as it began to sluice over the side of the sink and splatter onto the floor of the kitchen.

Then she waited.

Was she dreaming?

It didn’t feel like a dream – but then, they never did. Her pulse raced, her skin felt cold even though her senses were telling her the flat was warm, hot, but she daren’t start mumbling aloud the objects she could discern as being real just in case it heard her. It. Already something had taken shape in her mind.

It liked to stop by, every now and then, just so she didn’t forget.

It wasn’t long before the noises grew louder. With the steady stream of water came the slap of footsteps through the puddle, of the flat soles of smart shoes pacing restlessly back and forth across her kitchen, the smack of cupboards being flung open and slammed shut again.

Not here, she thought, desperately, not when I’m alone.

Then Killian called her.

The sudden loud buzzing surprised her, and the phone slipped out of her grasp and onto the carpet below. Dropping to her knees and scrambling to reject the call, she split her attention between her frantic efforts and the blocked door, hoping against hope that it hadn’t heard, that it wouldn’t –

The door handle squeaked, stopping short when it was met with resistance from the chair.

When she was seven, there had been a month or so she had avoided being alone in her bedroom as often as possible. Not, she had insisted to Archie, because she was scared, but of course, really she had been terrified. It was a new room, colder, bigger, and the first one she hadn’t shared for as long as she could remember. For so long, all she could imagine was that one day the door would lock with her inside it, and nobody would ever come back for her or care at all that she was alone in there.

After weeks of creative avoidance strategies, Archie had finally wheedled the truth out of her, and had removed the lock the very next day. Then they had spent time drawing maps of the group home together, doodling creative means for her escape from that room until she was convinced that even if the door locked, it would be pretty easy to build a hang glider out of a kite and make a break for it through the window.

Nobody can control this door except you, Emma.

Only these days, she had built the lock herself. She checked a hundred times a day that it was still secure. She buried herself behind it and when the cracks had started to form, she had piled up bricks instead.

The handle creaked again.

A desperate, fearful sound ripped itself from somewhere deep inside her chest and she stumbled backwards, reaching for anything, wanting the maps, the exit strategies, everything she had burnt the day she decided it was more important to keep things out than avoid leaving herself trapped in.

The door to the bedroom rattled against its hinges.

Thump. Again. Thump.

Her fumbling hands fell on the door to the closet, and she hauled it open and ducked inside before she could think twice. She was breathing hard, her chest ached with the force of it. It smelt of black leather and mildew inside, and once she pushed through coats and her back hit the wall, she slid down onto the floor.

Once inside, the noises stopped.

Just, stopped. Like she had stepped out of an airlock, and all she could hear now was the hard, accelerated huff of her own breathing.  

Was it still out there?

Like she was seven again, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She told herself it was just like when she and Killian used to play sardines with the other kids at the group home; exploring dark, gaping crevices until they could melt into its very walls. She had been older, then. Escape was all rationalisation, she didn’t need the maps. Keeping herself hidden meant just shutting her eyes and forcing it all out of her mind until she made herself unreachable.

As long as she couldn’t be seen, she couldn’t be caught.

Something in her twinged, something that ached for wide, open streets and a crumbling clocktower, for long conversations over steaming coffee and the vermillion kiss of the New England fall. Seattle was just unrelenting, torrid heat. Noise and noise and noise and more ceaseless, callous noise. And Killian’s coats smelt like midsummer rain and spluttering exhaust fumes in heavy traffic.  

She couldn’t remember calling David, but she was glad when he answered.

“My new assistant is pteronophobic,” he sighed heavily, by way of greeting.

The words sounded like nonsense to her, but she couldn’t discern if that was because they were, or because she didn’t feel like she could trust her senses anymore.

“Terr— what?”

“Pteronophobic. She’s pteronophobic.”

Emma pressed herself as far back into the wall as she could go, curling tightly away from the door.  

She tried to focus on the call. “So… she’s a dinosaur?”

David snorted. “It’s a phobia of being tickled by feathers. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He clicked his tongue. “Actually, what’s ridiculous is that she knew this about herself, yet she applied for a job at a veterinary shelter.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re the idiot that hired an assistant who’s scared of birds?”

“Feathers. And their proclivity for tickling.” She could hear him smiling down the phone, and already the pressure in her chest began to lessen. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Emma bit her lip. “Nothing, I just…” With a start, she realised the time and was amazed he had picked up at all. “Isn’t it nearly midnight over there?”

“You don’t call enough,” he reproached, but she could hear the tease in his voice. “This is like positive reinforcement.”

“How’s Ruth?”

There was a pause, a barely audible sigh. Gently, he repeated: “You don’t call enough.”

She could feel herself becoming more aware of herself, of her limbs tangled tightly at the bottom of the closet, of her hair sticking to the back of her neck, in a way that let her know that if she had drifted, she was returning now. It was nearly over.

“She misses you,” David added, “that’s all. So do we.”

“Me too,” Emma frowned, trying to remember the last time she had called anybody from Storybrooke. She had called after they got to Seattle, hadn’t she? How – how long ago was that? “Sorry.”

David made a dismissive noise, and as he always did, he forgave her.

“Everything good with Killian?”

Something in her chest squeezed as she remembered the call she had rejected.

“It’s fine,” she said, and tried to sound convincing, “I’m fine.” He didn’t have to know she was talking to him from the floor of a closet. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

For a little while, David said nothing. It was nice to just hear him breathe.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emma smiled weakly, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”

“Y’know, if it’s just that you’re afraid you’ll miss Seattle, I could set up the hose at the end of Mom’s porch and you’re welcome to stand under it whenever.”

“Wow, how generous,” she snorted. “It’s really more of a near constant moistness than always rain, though.”

“Or we could buy you a Subaru? You could sit in it and vape a Starbucks, or whatever it is you do there.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

For a few moments they just laughed, until they petered back out into quiet. Emma thought about Killian returning home soon, and the fact that she really didn’t want him to find her in the closet.

“Listen, um… I have to go. I’ll call more,” she promised.

David hummed on the other end of the line. “I hope you do.”

She felt calmer now as she disconnected the call, her heartbeat still clear in her ears but a steady pound, almost reassuring, not racing away without her. With fresher eyes, she nudged open the door to the closet and edged her way out slowly. The bedroom door was still closed, the desk chair propped up against it, but the only sound she could hear was the humming of her laptop on standby and the noise drifting up from the street through the open window.

Carefully, she removed the chair and shut the window. Then she sunk down into bed, into the quiet, and buried herself beneath the covers. She felt like she had run a marathon, her muscles ached in the aftermath of pumped adrenaline, and all her body wanted to do was rest.

She didn’t realise until Killian got home, but she had forgotten about the flooded kitchen. She heard him pause in the hallway, then the patter of his boots on the sodden tiles. Once realisation struck, her entire body burned when she wondered what he must be thinking, thinking of her, her skin hot with humiliation. But he didn’t comment on it, at least not that she could hear. Instead she heard him pulling out the mop and bucket and cleaning it up.

She wanted to join him, she just couldn’t muster the willpower.

A passing thought occurred to her then, the meekest of suggestions, now that rational thought had crept back in.

Had she just left the tap on?

After a few minutes she heard Killian enter the bedroom, but he didn’t switch on the light. Instead he slid into bed beside her, still clothed, and curled himself around her as tightly as he could manage. Something in her relaxed, as it always did, a muscle coming unclenched as she sank into the safety of his arms.

This, she knew. This was always real.

He kissed her shoulder, and he didn’t say a single word.

She loved him for it, and she hated him a little for it, too. 

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Maybe Stay Home This Time

Commission for the ever-lovely @likearumchocolatesouffle !!! Good Omens this time. I hope you like it, luv! <3 Commission info is here [X]

~

“Angel, I just want to sleep,” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale huffed and readjusted the “web camera” Anathema had forced on him last year. It kept trying to fall over. “I know you do, but we have to discuss what to do,” Aziraphale insisted. “How are we going to fix this?”

“There is no way we can fix this ourselves,” Crowley grumped. “Pestilence is out for a spin. Individual demons and angels can’t stop him. We can’t even protect the Isles.”

“Hmph.” Aziraphale gave up fussing and just let the camera fall on its side. “People are dying, though.”

“Yes, that usually happens when Pestilence hits hard.” Crowley rubbed his face with one hand; his other was holding the mobile through which he was communicating. He was apparently sleeping on the ceiling, which meant he was upside down on Aziraphale’s computer screen. “We can probably help with London, but it’s just going to keep coming back in.”

Aziraphale sighed. He’d known it would be a long shot, trying to save the world again, but he really did want to try. He would’ve asked Adam, but the boy was barely twelve; it wasn’t right to ask him if he had any demonic heritage left in him, let alone enough to banish Pestilence. “Fine. So we can’t do much ourselves. What can we do?”

“Follow the rules, I guess,” Crowley replied reluctantly. “Even if we can’t save the world, we can help not spread anything.”

“Oh, very well.” Aziraphale tugged his waistcoat straight irritably. He’s already been cooped up for months; it was beginning to feel like he was losing his strict control. What he wouldn’t give for a walk in the park and a fine dinner after… “I will contact you again tomorrow.”

Crowley groaned.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Aziraphale snapped. “You can sleep in between. I’m...” lonely, he wanted to say, but he still couldn’t bring himself to. He missed Crowley’s presence. But this was enough, just hearing his voice, seeing him on screen. Aziraphale just needed a bit of grounding.

“Fine,” the demon replied, but not as angrily. He had his knowing-look on, the look that meant he could see through Aziraphale’s bluster. It was very annoying. “When will you call?”

“I don’t know. After noon.”

“Good. I can get plenty of sleep in before then.”

~

Aziraphale called Crowley at noon on the dot, and rambled to him about his newest books, desperate to speak to someone. Crowley told him all about the rules that had been laid down, which explained several things about Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants being closed, and agreed to another call the next day. He seemed lonely, too. Well, as long as they could speak to each other, they would survive.

It was two days later, when Aziraphale was having a nap of his own, that he had a nightmare.

He couldn’t really tell what was happening, except that Gabriel was laughing and there was the sound of enormous flies buzzing and the smell of brimstone and Crowley screaming—and then Aziraphale woke up, and threw himself upright, shaking and gasping. Without thinking, he grabbed the telephone by his bed and barely managed to dial Crowley. But because he needed and expected to speak to his demon, that’s who was dialed.

The moment Crowley said, “It’s fucking midnight, angel, what—” Aziraphale began to babble over top of him, telling him about his nightmare, about how he was sorry, about how he would never let that happen, about how he would destroy anyone who hurt Crowley. It took a long time for him to get his torrent of words under control, and he wished desperately that he could cry. But angels don’t have tears. So he hiccuped and hugged himself and trailed off, high-strung and still so very upset.

“That won’t happen,” Crowley said firmly. “You don’t have to worry about that happening. You won’t have to do any destroying or smiting or whatever. We’re safe, alright? Haven’t heard a peep from either side. We’re safe.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, but his chest was easing and he could breathe again. “Yes. Yes. Alright. We’re safe.”

“That’s right. Go make yourself some tea. We’ll talk more later.”

So Aziraphale did.

~

Three days later, Crowley called Aziraphale in a panic, and asked him sharp questions—“Anyone suspicious in your area? Have you smelled sulfur anywhere? Your books are safe? Shop not burned down? Are you safe?”—until admitting that, well, he’d had a nightmare too. Aziraphale soothed him as best he could, and promised everything was alright, and Crowley calmed, mostly.

He still called periodically for the next week, just to check. Aziraphale didn’t mind. If it helped Crowley cope, that was all he needed to know.

Some restrictions were, cautiously, lifted. Aziraphale didn’t feel right swanning through the streets though, not even with a mask, so he didn’t go out. Crowley went to the park and fed the ducks, and called Aziraphale to let him know that the park was still flourishing, even without Crowley’s threats. The ducks had almost mobbed him, trying to get at the mixed seeds he had brought; of course, no one feeding them for quite a while, they were hungry. Aziraphale still snickered as Crowley complained.

There was always something to talk about, since there was now nothing to do but read and learn about the world. Aziraphale was outraged at the people who were labeling the plague as “no big deal”; Crowley just reminded him wearily that sometimes, humans didn’t need demons to be evil. Look at Caligula. They would learn.

Except they didn’t learn, so the two beings turned resolutely away from the plague. There were other, just as important things to talk about.

Anathema called Aziraphale to tell him that Newt was sick. Not covid, thank God, just a summer cold, but she was worried. Aziraphale considered, then asked her carefully, “Can you ask him if he would be willing to be on the receiving end of a miracle?”

“You’d do that for him?” Anathema asked eagerly, and Aziraphale smiled, knowing that that was exactly what she’d wanted. “Yes, I’ll go ask him right now!”

A quick miracle, putting together a basket of baked goods and jams and sending that by miracle to them as well, and Anathema called again to say happily that Newt was better already and they were grateful, and also he’d sent them enough jam over the past year, they didn’t need more.

“But jam is useful!” Aziraphale protested.

Anathema chuckled. “Yeah, but we’re just two humans, and we can’t give any of it away to the kids. Relax with the jam. Newt likes digestive biscuits, for some reason.”

“What do you like?” Aziraphale asked, curious.

A startled pause. Then she cleared her throat and said, “I really have no preference. I don’t really like sweet baked goods, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, sensing there was more to this moment than just reluctance to accept a gift.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. Just… I don’t know.”

Aziraphale hummed in understanding, and said gently, “Let me know if you find something. In the meantime, it’s almost time for my call with Crowley.”

Anathema laughed for real. “Yes, go call your boyfriend. It’s fine.”

“He is not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Fell.”

~

It was almost August, and Aziraphale was going to explode if he didn’t leave home, so he arranged with Crowley to meet at the park.

It was a lovely day, and many people weren’t wearing masks. Aziraphale thought this rather short-sighted, and kept his on firmly, even though it made his nose itch. He tried to keep his distance, but the pavement was already too small for that.

The park was nearly empty, though, and he settled at the far end of the bench, as far as possible. After only ten minutes, Crowley sauntered down the path and sat at the other end, again slumping as if his spine was a limp noodle. It wasn’t six feet, but surely it was good enough.

“Well?” Crowley asked.

“Well, what?” Aziraphale retorted.

“Is this nice? Do you feel better?”

Sighing, the angel nodded. “I missed fresh air,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” Crowley replied.

They sat in silence, watching the ducks. It was more calming than Aziraphale had expected. Maybe he really did just need to open his windows more.

So that’s what he did. He opened his windows every day for three hours exactly, and “video-called” Crowley every other day on a set schedule, and learned how to close his eyes, listen to music, and just be. It wasn’t saving the world, and it wasn’t eradicating evil; but it was taking care of himself, so he didn’t fret himself into a breakdown, and making sure he did his part. That was important too, right?

[winchester-fantasies]

Backtrack - Borrowed Time: Chapter 3

Backtrack Masterlist

Series Summary: What if you were the one Dean came to instead of Lisa? Rewrite of “Swan Song” and some of S6.

Word Count: 1448

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, some swearing

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

A/N: Chapter 3 is finally here!!!! 😁 Thanks for your understanding and I hope you enjoy!! ❤️❤️ Chapter 3’s song: Burning Desire by Lana Del Rey.

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

“Okay, I’m off!” you said, going over to Dean who sat at the kitchen table, leaning down to brush a quick kiss across his forehead. “See you tonight.”

Dean hummed his goodbye past the food in his mouth as you headed for the door. You locked it once it was closed behind you before you hurried down the stone steps and set out at a brisk pace. You were supposed to be at work at 10:00, but you were already late.

You wouldn’t have been if you had been able to get some sleep. Instead you’d stayed up for most of the night comforting Dean. Not that you minded. You were glad he had someone he could turn to when his memories and nightmares became too much.

The day was warm and sunny and you enjoyed your walk even though you were behind, reaching work just five minutes after 10:00. “Hey, Mandy!” you greeted, panting, as you pushed open the door to the art gallery.

“Hey, girl!” your coworker said with a grin.

You hurried around the counter to the back room where your boss was seated at her desk. “Sorry I’m late, Monica,” you said, depositing your purse in your cubby.

“Another rough night?” Monica asked, glancing up from her computer, a look of concern in her dark eyes.

“Yeah,” you said simply with a tight-lipped smile. Both Monica and Mandy knew about Dean coming back into your life, and as far as they were concerned, he was a veteran who had returned from war and dealt with PTSD. And it really wasn’t much of a lie; Dean had seen his fair share of battles and faced his own demons.

“I know I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again, if you need to take awhile off from work, then do it,” Monica said. “I know everything going on right now isn’t just affecting Dean.”

“Thanks, Monica,” you said with a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Truth be told, although Dean had applied for several jobs, he’d only been able to snag a few odd jobs here and there, leaving you to support both of you for the time being. Dean had an interview later today to meet with a contractor of a local construction company that you both hoped would lead to more solid and consistent work.

You made your way back to the front where Mandy was talking to a customer that had just come in. The older woman was interested in buying a painting for her husband for his birthday, and you gladly led her around the gallery, more than a little thrilled when she decided to buy one of yours.

The day passed by quickly and you were soon headed back to your apartment. You saw the Impala parked in front of the apartment. You made your way to the door, finding Dean in the kitchen, the smell of spaghetti filling the air.

“Hey,” you greeted, going over and pecking his cheek.

“Hey, how was your day?” he asked.

“It was good,” you said, setting your purse on the table. “I sold one of my paintings today!”

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s awesome, sweetheart!”

“Thanks,” you said as you joined him once again at the stove, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him to place a tender kiss on your temple. “How was your day?”

“Yeah, uh, it was good,” Dean said, stirring the pasta. “I, uh, I got the job,” he added nonchalantly, turning off the burner and taking the pot from the stove and depositing the spaghetti into the strainer.

“Really?” you asked excitedly. “That’s amazing! When do you start?”

“Tomorrow,” Dean said, shaking the pasta out before rinsing it and putting it back in the pot to add a bit of olive oil.

“That’s great! It’ll be good for you to have something to get your mind off everything,” you added before you could catch yourself. You saw his jaw clench and his eyes were dark as he dished some of the pasta out on two plates.

You took one of them from his hand before he could respond and headed for the table. “This smells delicious!”

Dean joined you at the table and you proceeded to eat in silence, the tension palpable. You knew you’d hit a nerve with mentioning Sam’s death, but you’d been so excited....

After dinner, you washed the dishes and helped Dean clean the kitchen then showered and got ready for bed. You met Dean in the bedroom, climbing in beside him and flipping off the light.

You were awoken a few hours later by movement, whimpers and cries filling the air. You rolled over to find Dean thrashing around on the bed, drenched in sweat. You sat up and reached over to him. “Dean!” you yelled, shaking him.

Dean jerked awake, sitting up straight in bed, his eyes wild as he glanced around almost frantically. “Dean,” you said again, this time softer. He glanced over, his expression softening a bit when he met your gaze. Without a word he reached over, wrapping his arms around you before you wound your own around him and pulled him into you, his hips slotted between your thighs. He clung to you tightly as if you were his life preserver and you were the only thing keeping him above the waves.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, running your hands up and down his sweat soaked back. His breathing eventually evened out and he settled down.

Dean raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. “Thank you,” he whispered. You smiled, running your fingers along his jaw. He glanced to your mouth before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

You returned it, your tongues soon slipping into one another’s mouths. Dean’s hands slid down your sides, hands sliding under your shirt and pushing it up. You sat up as he reached your breasts, raising your arms as he pulled it off. You reached for the hem of his next before shedding both of your sweats, soon adding them to the growing pile of clothing before you leaned forward, once more finding each other’s mouths.

You moaned as Dean settled back between your legs, the pressure of his growing erection pressing just right against your core. You rolled your hips, a hiss leaving his lips at the feeling of your wetness gliding along his cock.

“I want to take my time with you,” Dean grunted. “But baby, I don’t think I can last.”

“Neither can I,” you panted, your desperation for one another obvious to the both of you. It had been so long since you’d been intimate with one another. Sleepless nights, pining for one another, and memories all culminated to this moment.

Dean leaned back, gripping his erection before guiding it into you. You moaned at the feeling soon followed by a groan from Dean as he pushed in. You’d forgotten just how good he felt.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” Dean breathed as he finally bottomed out. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Move Dean…. Please,” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He obliged, setting a quick but purposeful pace, making sure you could feel every part of him. God, you had missed him, you realized. You’d been with many men since Dean had left, but none of them compared to him and the way he made you feel.

You soon lost all track of time, reveling in the feel and love you shared. Every rock of his hips, every brush of his cock against your sweet spot, every moan and every kiss seemed to piece your hearts back together until they were beating as one.

“B...baby,” Dean stuttered. “I...I can’t….”

“It’s okay, baby,” you reassured. “It’s okay. Just let go.”

And he did, his body stiffening and eyes falling shut, your name tumbling from his mouth with a throaty groan. His release triggered your own, your muscles trembling and hearing muffling as you came.

Dean pulled out and rolled to his side of the bed, his hand finding yours. “I love you,” he whispered as he linked your fingers together. Your eyes met, and you felt as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. His eyes were swimming with tears, but this time they weren’t ones of sadness - these were ones of contentment, adoration, and love.

You smiled, rolling to your side and sidling up to his body. You put your hand on his chest as his arm wrapped around your body, holding you close. You stared into one another’s eyes before you leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “I love you, too,” you said before kissing him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤️❤️

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[sharinluna]

Chapter 21 Translation Part 3

Chapter 19

Chapter 19.5

Chapter 20

Chapter 21 Translation Part 1

Chapter 21 Translation Part 2

Please keep in mind that this is a very rushed translation and I skipped more parts than I wanted to.

**********************************

Even after I had escaped from Ares’s clutches, my heart was still beating wildly.

“Do you still think you’re ordinary? Like other Evolvers, you will be ostracized, discriminated, persecuted, and in the end, killed. Because you are all EVILs.”

The voice ringing inside my head was scouring away the peaceful illusion to candidly reveal the brutal truth.

Yōurán: What is exactly this EVIL they’re talking about…?

The buzzing from my phone brought me back to where I was. I was standing at a crossroad.

The weather was clear. Sunlight shown brightly among thick clouds, but it wasn’t enough to drive away the frost in my heart.

I started to doubt the world in front of my eyes. Was this world real? or another dream?

Yōurán: Can I go back to how the things used to be?

Back when everything was peaceful and beautiful. Would I never get that warmth back?

Yōurán: If I can’t go back, I have to go forward.

I checked my phone to see a text from Ling Xiao.

Ling Xiao: Because I feel so good today I’ll give you a little advice. Don’t go southeast today.

I looked up and saw the direction I was heading was southeast.

Yōurán: Is he watching me from nearby?

I surveyed the surroundings but couldn’t find him.

Yōurán: How did he know that I was heading southeast…?

Grumbling about why he would send me such cryptic texts, I replied back. When the light turned green, I continued where I was going without an ounce of hesitation.

***********************************************

In another part of Loveland city, many figures were confronting each other in a barren land covered with snow. A young man was surrounded by many but he seemed quite cool about it. He looked at the tense faces of his opponents with a mocking smile.

Just then, his phone rang out lightly, startling everyone except him. With no hurry, he fished out his phone from his pocket and checked the reply. There was only one word. “Thanks.”

It was a simple word but Ling Xiao realized right away that she didn’t believe him one bit.

Ling Xiao: Alas, everything I’ve sad were not lies.

He put his phone back and looked back to the others. Knuckle sounds came out when he flexed his wrists.

Ling Xiao: Time to play, fellows.

At that instant, purple lightening gathered into his palms and gales of wind blew around. The air current became volatile and you could hear the electricity sizzling in the air. Black clouds formed in the sky and everything turned dark like a night. The wrath of the Nature itself made everyone cower in fear.

Ling Xiao: I’ll make it short. I’m running out of time.

His entire form was encircled by lightening as he charged forward. Blood-curdling screams were heard at every second. Soon, he was the only one standing on the ground. With a leering smile he went to the only one who still conscious and bent down to him.

Ling Xiao: Tell me, who sent you? The Special Task Force or…Black Swan?

************************************************************

I noticed that I was being followed. I quickened my steps determined to go where it was crowded. I chanced a look behind as I turned a corner and saw my tail. It was an ordinary-looking man wearing a baseball cap. The only thing not ordinary was the clear malice in his eyes looking at me.

Yōurán: Oh, great…

Quick as a flash someone from behind covered my mouth with something and I couldn’t see anything at all. I tried not to lose consciousness but soon everything became dark.

*********************************************************

??: Are you sure we got the right person?

??: We’ve been following her, she is linked to them…

Their conversation woke me up. I opened my eyes to see that I was in a deserted building.

Mystery Man: You woke up quick.

He was wearing his hood low that I couldn’t see his face.

Yōurán: Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?

I tried to sit up with my wrists tied around my back.

Mystery Man: We already gave you a warning, Miss.

Yōurán: Warning?

Mystery Man: It seems that your memories are poor, EVIL.

I thought back to the crimson words on the computer screen yesterday. So it wasn’t just some prank. And these were the guys who manipulated the online opinions!

Yōurán: Who the hell are you?!

Mystery Man: We are those who are trying to save the world that you Evolvers are trying to destroy.

He bent down close to me.

Mystery Man: Don’t try lying to me. Are you the “Queen”?

I tried to answer back as nonchalantly as possible.

Yōurán: What Queen? I’m not a queen of anything. I think you got the wrong person.

Mystery Man: You’re nervous.

He slowly stood up again.

Mystery Man: But it doesn’t matter if you’re really Queen or not. If we say you are, then you are.

Yōurán: But… what is your reason for doing this?

Mystery Man: Be patient, Queen. Soon you’ll know everything.

He laughed cruelly.

Mystery Man: Then… all of you EVILS will die.

His words had a sense of déjà vu…. I looked down so he wouldn’t see my eyes widen in shock.

This was the guy from my vision from yesterday! And likely he is the one behind the explosion!

Why would he do this? What would he gain from causing an explosion and blaming it on Evolvers? I knew what the answer was but couldn’t face the horrendous truth.

I had to get out of here. I kept struggling with my wrists until my fingers landed on a cold metal. It was Helios’s knife. Thank god that I had remembered to keep it with me before I left the house. Trying not to slice my skin, I discreetly started to cut the ropes.

Just then, a pebble dropped next to me out of nowhere. I looked up and the sudden light made me squint to see who it was. His silver hair shown in the light. Stealthily he slid down a rope and landed on the ground with speed.

Helios…. I called out his name in my head. He glanced at me with a subtle smile.

Helios: Found you.

The lighthearted way he said those words, and the way he faintly smiled at me made me think that he was glad to see me. But soon he regained his cold exterior.

Mystery man: Who are you?! How did you get in here!?

They surrounded him and pointed their weapons at them.

Helios: Shut up.

Helios said as he kicked the man who had been charging towards him with annoyance.

Yōurán: Be careful!

I shouted. But he had already dodged the next attack. He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves. I sat there dazed, unable to avert my eyes from him.

It took him only fifteen minutes to take down the last one. After the fight was done he slowly walked towards me.

Yōurán: He…

Even before I could finish calling his name he brushed past me and continued to walk away from me.

Yōurán: Wait…!

I felt baffled that he would ignore me completely like this. Helios looked behind me with disinterest in his eyes.

Helios: What is it?

Yōurán: Could you… perhaps… untie me lose…?

I tried to look pitifully at him as I gestured toward my wrists.

Helios: Hm? But they almost seem undone.

Yōurán: Yes, but…

Helios: You’ve been working on it. There doesn’t seem any need for me to step in.

Yōurán: But…

I kept wrestling with the rope, but couldn’t find the final stroke that would loosen the ties. And the bodies around me were making me nervous.

Yōurán: Could you please help me while you are at it?

I added emphasis on “while you are at it”. There was a slight grin in his face as he watched me with his arms crossed.

Helios: Why should help you “while I am at it”?

Yōurán: Well… I don’t know why you came here, but you seem to be against them, right? It might not sit well for your plan if they manage to capture me again…

I tried desperately to persuade him.

Yōurán: Please… I’ve only been dragged into this.

Helios: All right.

I don’t know what convinced him, but Helios agreed to help me. He came close to me and bent down. Suddenly I could gaze into his grey-blue eyes. Clear and transparent like ice.

Helios: Give me the knife.

The close proximity dazzled me and I found myself unable to move or say anything. With a low chuckle Helios took the knife from my hands and with a few swift moves the ropes binding my wrists were gone.

Yōurán: Thank you.

I replied as I massaged my wrists to make the blood flow again.

Helios gently stroked the knife with his fingers. His eyes seemed to have become a little gentler.

Helios: This is a good knife.

He gave the knife back into my hands. Taken aback, I took the knife and after a bit of hesitation, handed it back to him. I wanted to give it back to the owner.

Yōurán: Take it, it was yours anyway- I mean, you can have it if you want.

Helios: I don’t except bribes without reason.

With that curt reply, he turned around and started to walk away. Not wanting to part with him just yet, I gathered myself and quickly followed him.

Yōurán: Do you know what they were about to do back there? Are they Evolvers or not? Why are they looking for Queen?

Helios: You ask too many questions.

And it seemed like he wasn’t about to answer any of them.

Yōurán: I’m an Evolver too. So I need to know-

Helios: So what?

His callous words made me freeze midsentence.

Helios: Do you think Evols are a good thing?

There was taunting in his voice. I couldn’t understand the meaning behind his question so I asked back.

Yōurán: Then, do you think Evols are a bad thing? My father always said to me that they were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else. So I can’t understand why some Evolvers would want to get rid of non-Evolvers. And I can’t understand why non-Evolvers would hate Evolvers as well.

Helios stayed silent and continued to walk on.

Helios: Maybe you’re right. But human nature is complicated.

When he reached the end of the corridor he opened the exit door and walked outside. But I couldn’t follow him as I was weighed down with what he said.

Was my father wrong? Were my thoughts too naïve and idealistic?

Sunlight could be seen outside the door but I couldn’t feel any light. As I stood still, I suddenly saw a flash of light speeding towards me. I instinctively held out my arm to shield the attack.

Helios: What are you doing?!

Helios had already struck the strange man into unconsciousness. I looked at Helios who had crushed his attacker so quickly.

His icy gaze held inordinate amount of fury as he glared at me which was unusual for his overall apathetic behavior.

Helios: Did you think you could stop the knife with bare hands?!

Yōurán: Uh, no… not exactly…

I whispered feebly.

Helios: I warned you before to stop acting so reckless!

His anger seemed to have got the better of him and he grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I was suddenly struck at how his hands were similar to someone I used to know.

Yōurán: Are you really not K….

I couldn’t finish the question. Why did I suddenly feel the need to mention that name to him?

Helios: It stops now.

Helios finally let go of my wrist.

Yōurán: …..Helios.

He looked at me.

Yōurán: Will things get better? What are your reasons for coming here?

Helios: If I tell you, what can you do about it?

Yōurán: At least I’m…

Helios: It seems that you can’t accept yourself that you’re powerless.

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields.

Helios: The weak should learn to survive on their own. No one will help them.

I wanted to contradict him but the words wouldn’t come out. I bit my lower lips trying not cry.

Yōurán: I don’t want to remain helpless either.

I forced myself to look straight into his eyes.

Yōurán: I don’t want to be kept sheltered as the others protect me. I don’t want to be kept in the dark when the people I care about are hurt or gone. I’m trying to become better and stronger, but…

I couldn’t continue. My willpower seemed so insignificant and was about to be overwhelmed by massive waves of despair and misery.

Helios: Then become stronger.

He wasn’t taunting me anymore. Instead he was talking to me clearly and sincerely.

Helios: Do everything you can, by fair means or foul. Give up everything in your past… even yourself. If you can’t do that, then go back to the world you came from.

For the last time, he turned around and walked away from me, this time without looking back.

I sagged to the ground and let the tears fall.

Could I risk everything, abandon everything I have inside me to become strong enough to protect the loved ones?

I felt like I was in a bottomless pit without any light or a way out. I was completely alone in this world, forsaken and forgotten. The feelings of solitude were enough to suffocate me.

Yōurán: Should I really let it all go away?

If I give up on the beautiful memories of the past, would they disappear? Could I never get them back? I continued to sit there until my hands and feet were frozen when the phone rang.

Yōurán: …Hello?

Ling Xiao: It’s only been a day since we parted and you already sound terrible. I guess my hunches were right this time too.

I thought of his message to not go southeast.

Yōurán: Did you know what was going to happen?

Ling Xiao: I want to say yes but… frankly I’m not that omniscient.

Yōurán: I don’t know what I should do from here…

I hung my head low and my voice shook.

Yōurán: Is there nothing I can do to make everyone’s memories return? I don’t know what’s the right thing to do…

Ling Xiao didn’t respond right away.

Ling Xiao: I can’t give you an answer. Only you, the Queen, can change the world. You can do everything you put your mind to. It is in your powers to make the world you want. You can turn everything into chaos, or even end the world right now if you would choose to do so.

Yōurán: I would never want that in my life!

Ling Xiao: You don’t have to feel the need to deny it, I’m not interested anyway. But there’s no time for you to sit and wallow in despair. I’m looking forward to what kind of future you – the one and only Queen in the universe - will bring into this world.

***********************************************************

Next day I was browsing through my phone in my room when I saw this news.

“Rumors spread that the Riverside bridge explosion were done by people with superpowers. The show <Miracle Finder> has been receiving threats and hatred because it’s a show about superpowers. A lot of angry mobs are demoing outside of the producing company.”

Yōurán: How did it spread so quickly?

It took only 30 hours until whispers from a small internet website grew into massive protest demonstrations. Things were becoming worse faster than I anticipated.

I hurried to get to my company right away.

The protesters were banging their fists against the locked entrance. The people inside – my people – were trapped and at their mercy.

I called the police and looked for a way past the angry mob.

Yōurán: Please be safe… Anna, Kiki, Willow, Minor…

Mob A: I know that woman! She works in here!

A shrill shout sent waves of disrupt among the mob. I looked to where they were pointing and my heart sank.

Yōurán: Kiki!

Kiki was being confronted by swarms of protesters. She looked so small and helpless against them. I watched her fall hard onto the floor as someone pushed her. That seemed to be a switch that turned everyone violent. They all crowded around her to assault her.

Yōurán: Where is the police… what’s taking them so long…?!

I bit my lips hard.

Yōurán: There’s no other way around!

Taking a deep breath, I charged in. I pushed and struggled past the crowd blocking my way and managed to reach Kiki.

Kiki: You are…

Yōurán: Hurry!

I helped her stand up and lead her towards the entrance. That was the only safe place at the moment. I heard Kiki crying softly. It took a lot of effort, but I succeeded in pushing her inside the building.

Kiki: Be careful!

Her warning came too late. I already lost my balance and fell to the floor. The crowds gathered around me now. Their faces were full of animalistic contempt, but I couldn’t find the man who was behind all this. I’m sure he was lurking in the shadows after he made these people into his puppets to do his deeds. The thought sent waves of revulsion in my veins.

Mobs: You monsters…!!!

I covered my head and waited for the blow to come.

Then, everything stopped and went quiet. I looked up.

Victor was pushing his way through the crowds. I stared at him, wondering why he would come here.

Victor: Do you think you can walk?

Yōurán: Victor…

I whispered his name.

Victor: Are you in shock?

He bent down to examine my face.

Yōurán: No, I’m fine!

I hurriedly tried to stand up.

Yōurán: !!!

The sharp pain from my sprained ankle almost made me fall back down. Thankfully, Victor grabbed me from falling. He looked at my injured leg.

Victor: Did you sprain your ankle?

Yōurán: It’s nothing, just give me your arm and I can walk-

With a slight tsk he lifted me up and my feet were dangling in the air. It was like the first time we met 17 years ago when he saved me from getting hit by a car. Snows were suspended in midair in the halted time as he walked to his car carrying me in his arms.

Maybe he didn’t remember me, maybe I was nothing to him at all. But my heart still continued to flutter in the same way around him.

The car door was left open, showing how quickly he got off to reach me.

Victor: Get in.

I slowly sat in the passenger seat. Victor closed the car door for me.

Yōurán: Why did you come here?

Victor: I was in the neighborhood.

He replied curtly and asked me sternly.

Victor: Why were you there? To protest?

Yōurán: No, not to protest, I…

Victor: Did you want to become a hero and save people?

His matter-of-fact accuse stung and I hung my head down.

Radio: LFG is going to invest in buying the share of HBS. Is this groundwork for adventuring to American markets? Financial specialists say…

I banged my head into a window in my hurry to look at him. Victor was looking at me very strangely but I didn’t care. I was too busy dealing with what I heard on the radio.

Yōurán: HBS… why… did LFG really decide to invest in HBS?

Victor frowned and I realized that what I asked was rude.

Victor: You got a problem with that?

Yōurán: Why would you-

I stopped talking. Victor forgot everything about me. He didn’t remember the time when HBS set up an elaborate trap to attack me. He didn’t know that Black Swan was behind HBS. He probably didn’t even know what Black Swan was. After choosing my words carefully, I finally asked him.

Yōurán: Have you ever heard of an organization called Black Swan?

Victor: Just tell me directly what you want to say.

Yōurán: Black Swan is behind HBS. It is a dangerous and controversial organization. Could you think again about investing in there?

Victor: The decision’s already been made by the board members a month ago.

I opened my mouth to argue but was interrupted by the turmoil outside.

*******************************************************************

Yōurán: Maybe this is all my fault?

Victor: What fault?

Once it started, it was difficult not to fall into the trap of relentless self-reproach.

My fault for existing at all.

My fault for changing the future.

My fault for coming back alive.

My fault for failing to stop this.

My fault for being unable to do anything as destructions happened right in front of my eyes...!!!

Victor: Stop it!

His shout stopped me from spiraling down into the pit deeper. He grabbed my arms firmly and made me look at him.

His words made me calm and cool-headed. I couldn’t afford to forever continue feeling sorry for myself.

Yōurán: I’m sorry…

I took a deep breath and looked up at him.

Yōurán: My Evol is precognition. I can foresee the future. I saw many deaths and calamities. Some of them already happened, others not yet. But even though I know what’s going to happen, I am powerless to stop it.

Victor: …I don’t know what you went through. But if what you say is true, someone very powerful must be behind all the disasters and they have been preparing this for a long time.

Victor: They have nothing to do with you. And you are not obligated to put a stop to this.

Yōurán: But it has to be stopped, and I can’t just do nothing! If I were smarter, or stronger I…

I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Yōurán: If someone else had the same powers, they would have been able stop it!

Victor: There is no point in making assumptions like that.

Yōurán: I know. It is useless to think about might-have-beens. But I still think about it… I’m an idiot, right?

Victor: Yes, you are.

Victor: But it is still in your powers to stop it. There is no time for regretting the past.

There was no ridicule nor criticism in his words, just the plain truth.

Yōurán: If my choices can change the future, I can stop it from happening. But if I choose wrong, something far worse may happen. What is the right choice? Should I change the future or let it be and conform to it?

This time Victor didn’t answer right away.

Victor: Don’t you already have an answer to that?

Yōurán: Do you think I’ll succeed, then?

Victor: No one knows.

He smiled faintly and his voice turned soft.

Victor: But I hope you can.

I blinked. Finally, I felt like I could smile again.

Yōurán: Thank you, I will.

I vowed that I would not hesitate or think about failure. Whatever choice I made, I could deal with the outcome. I will do everything I can to find out the truth, stop the catastrophes, and solve everything.

Not just because this was my responsibility and duty as Queen, but because I want to with all my heart. I will give everything I have to save everyone in this world.

Until the sun shines again.

Until we meet again under the stars.

Until I can finally say to them: “Hello. My name is Yōurán. I came back.”

*****************************************************************

Snow seemed to be never-ending in this year’s winter. A man looked down at the white city with a faint smile.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful, cold, endless winter….

***************************************************************

Chapter 19: You thought you were dating the guys happily but that was a fake and you’re stuck freezing in eternal winter.

Chapter 20: All the boys don’t remember you and they are not the ones you used to know and love.

Chapter 21: You sacrificed your life to save the world and now you’re stuck in this world where Evolvers and Non-evolvers are fighting each other.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful winter world!

Me: SHUT UP!!

If Evolvers are a metaphor of the minority in this batch of chapters, then the feud between Evolvers and Non-evolvers are not totally unrelated to real-life conflicts between different various groups.

My father always said to me that Evolvers were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else.

This time, MC’s fighting for peace, for harmony, for inherent rights of the people and intrinsic values of life, and for equality.

I know that translation’s more wacky in this one, but please give me some encouraging words. I’m a complete wreck. Why did I even start this...

[lassluna]

Its a brand new day, (it's never too late to start) 1/2

All Killian Jones wants is to survive this February as painlessly as possible. Hopefully without telling his best friend he loves her. That would be a disaster.

It’s made all the more difficult when he gains the attention of a secret admirer.

AN: Thank you so much @csrolereversal​ for hosting this wonderful event yet again! I am so happy to be a part of it. Thank you @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ for making such a beautiful pic set as well as being a beta reader to this story. It was so fun working with you.

 FFn Ao3

“0815?” 

The door doesn’t open. Killian curses under his breath, scrolling through his text messages. The landlord had sent him the new code, but he was sparse on details on how to get it to actually work.

“#0815?”

Nope. 

Killina sighs loudly, glancing at his watch, knowing that he was going to be late if he doesn’t open this bloody door. He takes a drink of coffee to settle his nerves. 

Empty. Bloody perfect.

“#815.” He’s about to start pounding his head on the door. His brother always said he was hard headed, perhaps he can just break the door down. 

Why the hell would anyone prefer this bloody contraption rather than a key like a normal bloody person?

He wonders how much he’ll get fined for breaking down his own door to his own shop. It’s far too early for these shenanigans and he is already out of coffee. 

“Wow, when Belle told me you hated the new key system she wasn’t kidding,” says a voice behind him. He sighs loudly, face pressed to the door.

He typically loves to see her face in the mornings, but today was already putting him in a foul mood. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret to her of all people.

“Good morning Swan,” he says rather annoyed, because the only thing worse than being locked out of his own bloody coffee shop, was if someone was watching him struggle to open the damn thing. “Not to say I don’t love to see your face so early in the morning, but why are you here?” He says, catching a glimpse at the blonde leaning against her car.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she responds. There was something in her voice that warned him she was up to no good. Most likely plotting to get a free cup of coffee. She always gets free cups of coffee.

“You’re always in the neighborhood when I’m on staff Swan.” She shrugs, approaching him with an unusual spring in her step and a smile. “Aren’t you awfully cheerful,” he notes. Typically Emma Swan doesn’t function at 6 a.m without at least 3 cups of his mocha latte with cinnamon, free coffee or no.

He should know, after being best friends with someone for 3 years, he’s pretty much an expert in Emma Swan.

They’d met on one of her cases, him at a bar next to a man who was hitting on anything in a skirt. She’d sat beside the man in a very pretty skirt. He’d said something offensive to her and had his hand up her dress.

Killian had tried to defend her when Emma Swan made it clear that she didn’t need anyone defending her. She’d hauled the man off to jail at that very spot.

She’d thanked him right after, for coming to her aid even if she didn’t need it. For a moment it seemed like maybe, something could happen.

But it didn’t. She showed up at his coffee shop Bean Around the World the next morning and he offered her a free cup, they’d been friends ever since. 

Just friends and nothing more.

Except for the fact that he was in love with her, of course.

“Couldn’t miss seeing you grumpy, Mr. Early Bird,” she teases. “Besides it’s the first day of the New Year!” She steps in front of him and eyes the electronic lock.

“It’s the 6th.”

“New Year doesn’t start until Monday, Killian,” she says, and within a moment she has the damn door open and is just smiling like she’s so damn proud of herself for breaking into his shop. “Come on, I need my hot chocolate like now.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Is this a robbery?”

“Absolutely; Give me your coffee or I’ll lock the door again.” He’s helpless but to cater to her demands. So, he starts up the little cafe while Emma rummages through the lending library Belle, his manager set up in the back of the shop. 

Before long, the machines are warming up, and he has a tall travel mug of Emma’s special mocha latte ready. Judging by her running boots, he has a feeling she’s going to need to be on the move. He decides to throw in a bear claw for good measure.

“For my favorite former thief,” he says, bringing it to her table. Killian glances at his watch, they had a few minutes before he had to officially open.

“I’m the only former thief you know,” Emma points out. She takes a sip of the drink and a big bite out of the pastry. “Have you done anything for your New Year’s Resolution?” She asks. 

It catches Killian by surprise, this is the first year Emma had so much as mentioned New Year’s Resolutions, she’d mentioned wanting to make one when they watched the ball drop together at her apartment drinking too much champaign and eating all of the Christmas cookies Liam had sent them.

She’d thought it was just her drunken sugar rush talking, but here she was mentioning it again. He shakes his head.

“What was yours again?” She asks. 

Telling the woman I love that I do in fact love her.

“Learn a new language,” he replies. “But after what Henry told me about the Duolingo bird, I don’t exactly trust it,” he admits.

“Henry has an active imagination,” Emma agrees. 

She too is fond of the boy that comes into the coffee shop after school. His mom is a lawyer in the plaza and so he often spends a bit of time here reading and doing his homework. 

“What was yours?” Killian asks. She looks at him, meets his eyes in a very intentional gesture. It feels oddly intimate.

“Trying something new,” she admits with a soft smile, one that brings a sense of warmth to his bones. It makes Killian desperately want to kiss her.

But he doesn’t, because that would ruin everything.

“So something besides your mocha hot chocolate?” He assumes quickly, looking away before he does something he regrets.

“Uh...yeah” she says just as quickly. “New coffee orders sounds just up my alley,” she says, shoving what’s left of her pastry into her mouth and downing the rest of her coffee. 

“Great, I’ll have something new and interesting waiting for you next time you show up!” He announces happily. He’d hounded Emma in the past about expanding her horizons, but she was a stubborn one. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Emma agrees before quickly exiting the shop.

It leaves Killian with an odd feeling like he missed something.

// 

Belle shows up to the shop a quarter before 3, smiling brightly as she clocks in. 

“Good Morning, boss,” she says, putting her apron on. The apron was unnecessary since managers weren’t usually the one behind the coffee machines, that she left with some of the younger baristas working.

“Belle, you don’t have to call me boss.” Not that his words matter since she always ignores it anyway. 

“So I didn’t see the door broken so I assume you got in ok, Boss?” He nods.

“Of course I did. I told you it would be fine, didn't I?” He insists.

“Emma opened the door didn’t she?”

“Why did the new landlord replace the bloody lock anyway?” He says in annoyance. “The old one was working fine!”

Except for the way the key kept getting stuck, and the door would sometimes lock when it wasn’t supposed to. They’ve had some awkward moments getting locked out in the middle of a delivery. So it needed an upgrade, it didn’t mean they had to make it robotic.

“It might be because he kinda hates you,” Belle retorts. “And he knows you don’t do well with computer systems.”

Killian grumbles in agreement under his breath. The bloody monkey who’d bought the strip mall last year always did have a thing against him. He was always coming up with some new idea to make everything more difficult. Only reason they hadn’t been evicted was because the leasing contract had been airtight thanks to Regina Mills. The best contract lawyer in town, considering she had the very same contract he knew it was good.

Besides, she definitely wanted to keep her favorite coffee place and after school stomping ground of her only child.

 “I’ll call him and see if we can’t get a better system in place,” Belle assures him. “Maybe he’ll think I’ll agree to a date if he stops being so annoying.”

“Ruby would have a bone to pick with him if you did,” he supplies with a smirk. “What would I do without you?” She shrugs happily.

“You can return the favor by coming to my Valentines Day party,” she tells him with a pointed glance. It doesn’t surprise him, Belle has been talking about throwing this party for months. He just had no desire to attend, Belle was his friend, and had it been for any other holiday he’d definitely be in attendance.

Valentine's Day, however, he had no desire to be surrounded with happy couples basking in their joy. Perhaps he was a scrooge, but it would just be too much for him.

It would tempt him too much into saying something he’d regret to Emma.

“Come on Killian!” Belle insists. “You don’t have to bring a date, you can just be there, get drunk, and eat lots of candy.”

“As tempting as that offer sounds, I’ll pass. Good luck with your party, and your shift. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he tells her.

He can hear Belle call out a response, but it’s lost in the sound of people in the small cafe.

//

Killian is exhausted when he gets home. He desperately wants a shower. He smells like a dark roast espresso. He’s so tired that he nearly misses it, but the bright color catches his eye. 

It's a bright red shimmer bag with golden hearts all over. Inside was a large white mug. It had “Be Happy” written in black and gold font. He picks it up gently, both confused by its presence and knowing that it’s for him. Why else would it be outside his door? He looks around quizzically, as if something else in the empty hallway could give away the purpose for this gift.

There was nothing.

He scratches behind his ear nervously before returning inside with his mug. Honestly he’s not too sure what to do with it. He considers putting it in his cupboard with the rest of his coffee mugs, but that feels odd considering he didn’t even know if he should keep it.

Emma always mentioned how vacant his mug cupboard was considering his occupation. He always seemed to leave his at work and they wind up mixed in with the rest of the ones at work. The first time it happened, Henry had tweeted about it. Now it’s become a game his regulars play: collect all the pictures of Jone’s coffee mugs.

It definitely drummed up business, but at the cost of having but three mugs of his own. (All of which were Emma’s)

 It made Killian think that maybe....

But he quickly swept the thought away. 

Emma certainly didn’t leave this here for him, she’d have just brought over another mug if she thought he was lacking. Something like this...it reeked of someone with romantic intentions, how else explain the golden heart wrappings?

And Emma certainly didn’t have romantic interests in them, it was simply impossible.

Emma Swan was a woman who took what she wanted, so if she fancied him, he is sure he would know by now. 

Then again, he thinks, Emma Swan being the tough bad ass Bail bonds person she was never liked discussing feelings or emotions. She told him bits and pieces about her past, but her feelings and emotions behind it remained closely guarded.

She was a woman who kept her emotional cards close to her chest. She’d spent a very long time getting over her issues over being abandoned as an infant, even longer getting over her ex abandoning her and framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. 

She was brave and strong, but was also terrified of being abandoned. 

If it’s not Emma, Killian wonders who could have possibly left this mysterious present behind. 

Belle maybe? Only her apartment was the opposite direction of his, and it seemed out of character for her to leave it rather than give it to him directly. Especially since she secretly had a girlfriend. 

There were a couple neighbors who always smiled when he looked their way, but one was married and the other was carrying her fiance’s child. They both seemed unlikely but not impossible.

 There was always Granny, owner of the diner across from his cafe with her obvious flirting, he didn’t often visit the diner, but he always enjoyed the occasional waffle when he was a bit hungover. Every time he visited she would shamelessly flirt with him, but she was very direct. Also, he had a hunch it was just to make her granddaughter, Ruby, uncomfortable.

(Vengeance for Ruby’s refusal to introduce her grandmother to her secret girlfriend he supposed)

He considered asking Emma her opinion, she was an avid investigator after all, but something occurs to him.  

He doesn’t want to give Emma the wrong impression. The last time he’d shown interest in someone else, Emma had started to pull away. He hadn’t understood it at first, but Emma was trying to give him space to date, to be happy without getting in the way, which was absolutely absurd. She was his best friend and would continue to be for as long as she’d have him. No relationship would change that.

           The last thing Killian wants is to make that happen again. So a decision is made, he isn’t going to tell Emma, he’s just going to hope that someone made a mistake, or that it was a one time thing. 

Perhaps the mysterious gift giver was just someone in the apartment complex that had left it at someone’s door at random.

//

It was not random. A few days later he finds a teddy bear with a rose in the same spot outside his door.

//

“Good Morning, Swan,” Killian greets sarcastically leaning against the bloody immovable door. 

The new code he’d tried to set up still wasn’t working, he’d finally run out of mugs (except for the mystery one of course), and there was another gift left this morning.

He could hear her car pull into one of the staff parking spots. The unreasonable caffeine deprived part of his mind told him she was here to laugh at his inability to open doors, remember his coffee mugs, or find secret admirers. 

Not that Emma was aware of that last bit.

“Just wanted to make sure you got in ok, and maybe catch up.” she assures him. “No coffee?” She asks. He shakes his head.

“Didn’t have a clean mug,” he admits. “I left mine here yesterday.” 

Well he did have a clean mug, but Emma would notice a new mug. 

“Oh,” she replies a bit disappointed. “Well...you really need new mugs,” she says, moving towards the door. “And to stop leaving yours at work. I think the collection has reached 15 at this point.” She reminds him.

He knows she’s right. He also can’t help but be annoyed with how easily Emma opens the door. “How the hell do you do that?” Killian asks. He’s convinced the landlord programmed it so that he couldn’t open it but anyone else could with ease just to make him insane.

“Magic.” She says with a grin. He disappears into the darkness of the cafe as he does his usual opening procedures, but he doesn't forget to make Emma her beverage. Her new beverage. He needed to pick something Emma would like, but still push her outside her comfort zone.

He decides to start her off with something in her ball park.

“White mocha latte,” Killian announces. She’s on her phone and looks stunned by the drink put in front of her. “You wanted to try something new, right?” Suddenly he feels very nervous and regrets just not bringing her her favorite beverage.

“Yup,” Emma says sternly. “Of course.” She takes a big sip. “It’s great, super sweet,” she confirms.

“It’s popular with the caffeine lovers but coffee haters,” he confirms. 

“Right ok,” she says, sipping on it some more. “Are you on for Netflix tonight?” she asks. 

Killian nods. 

He’d almost forgotten about it. Netflix with Emma was the highlight of his week, they usually got pizza or chinese and picked something at random and just watched it all night long. 

Belle used to ask him if anything happened between them on these late night platonic dates, but it never did. Nothing worth mentioning after all.

Which was fine. It was great even. They were best friends.

Last week they’d had to skip it when Emma got called away on an assignment, but this time would be fine. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[artificialqueens]

Échappé / Chapter 3 (Branjie) - DenDenMonMon

Summary: A community center, about to be demolished, forces prima ballerina Brooke Lynn Hytes to entangle her life with Vanessa “Miss Vanjie” Mateo’s, a stripper determined to save it. While trying to solve their differences, shortage of money, and ever growing sexual tension, they discover how dance is their only common ground to save the center.

A/N: Hi. Hello. How are you? Here’s something that you probably didn’t know about me: my notes are often longer than the actual chapter. So here’s some background story: When svpermodel came to me with this idea aka that time she went on and on and on about this plot on Twitter, I right away pictured: Black Swan meets The Dancing Dolls, and that became the premise of this whole story. For this particular chapter I want to direct your attention to this video: I happened to be in the audience when this was recorded and, lemme tell you, I have never cried with a performance so much in my life. So, when the time comes, and the scene is presented, this is the mental image I want you to have when reading it. For your attention, thank you! -Monkey.

AO3 Link

Chapter 3

All in all, Ben had a very good sense of direction. There was a reason why he was hired as a driver, after all. So, when Brooke asked him to take them back to the community center, the one they had found by mistake while lost, he had no problem getting there.

In the back seat of the black SUV, Brooke looked out the window. Next to her, Katya sang loudly in Russian, completely lost in the music she had specifically brought for the ride.

A lot of thought had been put into the situation. After her less than formal meeting with Vanessa, in the private area of the strip club, Brooke had talked to the head of the ballet company. Even when Brooke was the director, and one of the senior partners, Madam Charles still owned fifty-one percent of the company, and had the final say in the matter.

The conversation hadn’t gone easily. Brooke explained the scenario the best she could. No words could really make Madam Charles comprehend why this particular community center was so important for Brooke. She could barely explain it to herself. All she knew was that she needed to do everything in her power to save it.

The shock came when Madam Charles approved of a donation, and Brooke pointed out they didn’t want it. What they needed were teachers, choreographers, maybe even designers and stylists.

That was too much to ask. They didn’t have time to spare.

The company was only meant to be in Los Angeles for one more month, before moving to the next city. They had been following the same pattern for years. Theaters were booked, rehearsal studios have been rented, and hotel rooms had been arranged. The entire schedule had been lined up for them to be able to travel from one place to the other with ease. If they stopped things then, or delayed even one presentation, the amount of money it could cost would be unimaginable. Not to mention that they needed to end the tour in New York by Christmas day, where they did a special version of The Nutcracker every year.

RuPaul Charles didn’t have to remind Brooke of any of this, she was completely aware of it. That didn’t mean that the list of consequences hadn’t been brought up by the one in charge. Brooke countered with the details that she had gotten from the dancer.

Texting Vanessa had been interesting, to say the least. She was funny, very funny. Sometimes, it was intentional; other times, not so much. Brooke’s favorite was how Vanessa seemed unable to identify her own typos. Brooke would tease her about it and Vanessa, never sure of where the spelling error was, would end up sending the word in Spanish. Whenever Brooke sent her a simple question, she knew better than to expect a simple reply. She often found herself laughing out loud at an answer.

Brooke got as much information about the event as she could. Vanessa didn’t know a lot. The only few things she knew for sure were the amount of numbers they needed to present and, of course, the cash prize if they won. Brooke had to contact people she knew in the dance industry to find out more about it. That was why she was so prepared to negotiate with her superior. There was not a single question that she didn’t already have an answer for.

The competition was in two weeks, the company was still going to be in town by then. She had talked to the other dancers, and they were all willing to help. One day at the time the ballerinas were going to join Brooke in the afternoon, right after rehearsals, practice with the kids, and be back just in time for the show of the night. If any expenses were to rise, Brooke would cover them herself, but they shouldn’t.

Madam Charles, with the lift of a perfectly shaped eyebrow and a lot of doubt filling her chiseled features, had agreed.

The plan had been put into motion right away. Brooke gathered her best friends that same day and they had come up with a plan. She picked the song herself, Nina right away imagined the clothing for the dance, and Plastique complemented the look with the makeup they could use. Detox and Katya helped her with the choreography. Each of the two provided different abilities to the construction of the piece. Detox had the posture and poise, her slow elegant moves, put together with Katya’s flexibility and full control of her elasticity, were the perfect support to bring to life Brooke’s vision.

The category was Contemporary Group Dance. According to Vanessa, she had all the kids practicing for the hip-hop number and the Dance Offs, but she figured she could use the most advanced student and herself for the number. After one more call, Brooke confirmed not only that duos were allowed to perform, but Vanessa could be part of the number being the instructor. They had found their starting point.

Katya had offered herself to be the first one to go with Brooke to visit the center. Her excuse was that she needed to check on the dancers’ limberness before anything else, but Brooke had the suspicion that her interest was set on the makeup artist, rather than the students. She didn’t mind.

Brooke pulled open the doors to the community center. This time Trixie wasn’t there to receive them. A woman with long black hair sat behind the desk instead. Her face was serious as her fingers angrily typed in a computer. Her clothes seemed too tight and her cleavage too deep to be receiving people, but Brooke had learned better than to expect anything from that place. There was something almost intimidating about her. Almost. It took way more than a stern face to throw Brooke Lynn Hytes off balance.

“Is that a karate class?” Katya’s voice, filled with excitement, took Brooke out of her observations.

She watched as her friend wandered off without warning. Nobody stopped her. She couldn’t go too far, Brooke reasoned, and focused her attention on the receptionist.

“Hello, I’m Brooke, I’m here–”

“Yes!” The lady interrupted her, a huge smile spreading across her lips. “Hi. I’m Michelle, I’m the director of the Center. Vanjie has told me so much about you.”

Vanjie.

The name resounded in Brooke’s mind, bouncing against the walls of her head, yet never landing in a place of comprehension. That was Vanessa’s stripper name. The mere thought of the girl having a double life was already too much for Brooke to process, but the fact that she had no problem mixing the two was a whole other level of confusion. There was no shame in what she did, Brooke had learned as much, but Vanessa seemed proud of her profession. She loved to dance, the money was good, the hours were few; the lists of reasons had been more or less convincing. Brooke was trying, but she knew it was going to take a while for her to wrap her mind around it.

She shook Michelle’s hand, still caught up in her thoughts. “I wish I could say the same,” she confessed.

Michelle waved her hand, dismissing the comment. “Don’t worry about it. Things usually slip out of her mind. I mean, I love Vanjie, so much, she’s a beautiful sunbeam, but she can be forgetful.”

Brooke laughed, a warm feeling invading her chest.

“Thank you so much for what you are doing for us,” Michelle continued. “This competition is super important and we really want to give the judges something they haven’t seen before, to show them who we really are.” She walked around the desk as she spoke, and stopped right next to Brooke. “I know you already got a tour of the place but, come with me, I want to show you something.”

Brooke didn’t protest, she followed the director through a small hallway until they reached a bulletin board. Framed in glitter, tons of pictures adorned the piece of drywall. Brooke took a step forward, her fingers ghosting over the images of smiling families, kids dancing, women in gowns, and men playing basketball.

“Those are my babies,” Michelle stated proudly. “I feel very lucky, and very blessed to be a part of this community. We have gone through a lot, you know?” It wasn’t really a question, so Brooke didn’t attempt to answer. “Everybody thinks that LA is nothing but glamour and movie stars, they often forget there are families in need too; moms and dads that can’t make ends meet for their kids.”

A nervous chuckle left Brooke’s lips. “I’m from Toronto, and I can assure you those were exactly my thoughts.”

Michelle smiled. “See? That’s why we need to support each other, help one another.”

She then faced Brooke, placing a soft hand on her arm.

“You have no idea what it meant for us when Vanjie and the girls came to help. Not just with the fundraising, everything has been harmonious and beautiful since they started helping out here. That’s because they are authentic to who they are.”

Brooke could only agree. Vanessa had shown nothing but her true self since the moment they met. In a way, Brooke was almost jealous of how Vanessa carried herself so unapologetically. She told Michelle something along those lines.

There was a knowing smile adorning Michelle’s lips when she replied. “Oh, she’s really good at pretending she doesn’t care what others think. I love her, she’s the sweetest thing ever, but she needs to open up, to allow others in and accept the help when it’s available.”

Brooke knew exactly what she meant. “It seems like she’s always trying to fix everything by herself.”

Michelle nodded. “We are always so used to care for others and we forget about us. How do you think I’ve gained all this weight?”

Her rhetorical question encountered a head shake from Brooke. “I think you have a very lovely shape.”

Michelle laughed, but it sounded sad, forced. It didn’t really reach her eyes.

“I think… all I’m saying is that… we really need you, she needs you.”

Brooke didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting the speech to end that way. Vanessa had assured over and over that she had everything under control. Brooke felt as if she was begging Vanessa to let her help. Hearing from Michelle how that confidence was just a facade, how much Vanessa put up a strong front, made Brooke look at her with brand new eyes.

She swallowed the imaginary lump in her throat before Brooke was able to speak again. “It’s my absolute pleasure.”

They walked to the other side of the center, where the dance practices were already in full motion. Brooke spotted Katya at the back of the room, chatting away with Yvie. Brooke knew they were going to hit it off right away; hopefully, they were already discussing the gymnastic aspects of the plan.

Her attention was immediately called to the opposite direction, when a pop song started playing. Vanessa stood at the front, a group of approximately twenty girls followed her every move. It started slow, with the voice of Britney Spears telling them they needed to work if they wanted to achieve anything in life. It was out of character for Vanessa, who just last week was getting naked to a song with the same theme but a complete different approach. Suddenly the beat dropped, there was the sound of a record scratching, and then the magic happened.

Vanessa whipped her hair from side to side to the rhythm of the remixed version of the original song. The movements were fast, dangerously fast. The scariest part was that the girls behind her never lost a count. Their little heads moved in sync with Vanessa’s as they stomped around the room, changing formations. Every step, every move, and every change of position was perfectly coordinated. They looked like different parts of the same being. The integration of each of the elements of the dance group was like no other Brooke had ever witnessed. They shared the same vision, the same goal. They were one with each other.

The music ended with a bang and they all dropped to the ground at the same time.

Everything was quiet for a second, nothing but their elaborated breathings could be heard.

Brooke didn’t notice she was clapping until her hands stung. Encouraging profanities flew from Katya’s lips, who was standing by her side. She had no recollection of Katya walking her direction.

Vanessa got up with ease, turning to her little dancers. “Alright, y’all, that was nice, that was nice. Now, don’t get too cocky ‘cause them other bitches are gonna be fierce too. I’m not saying we are not, but we gotta be fiercer. So keep on practicing and I wanna see you all here tomorrow, okay? Same time. Don’t be late!”

Her hands closed into fists and rested on her hips. She blinked rapidly, a sign that Brooke had yet to determine what it meant, before she made her way to them.

Katya pushed her playfully as soon as Vanessa was within arms reach. “Oh, my God! That was amazing, you stupid bitch!”

Vanessa smiled shyly, if her face wasn’t already flushed from dancing, she might have blushed at the words. “You really think so? Do you think we have a chance?”

With her mouth opened widely, Katya nodded enthusiastically. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It was really good,” Brooke assured her. “Really, really good.”

Yvie had made her way to them and joined the conversation. “And just wait until they tell you what they put together for us.”

Suddenly, something seemed to come to Vanessa’s mind. “Oh, shoot!” She turned around, looking desperately around the room. “Ah, good, you haven’t left. Elena, baby, c’mere for a sec.”

Brooke recognized the girl right away. She had been at the park the other day. Even when they had all been amazing, Brooke had a clear memory of this particular girl standing out among the rest. Including during the dance they had just performed, Elena, with her frizzy hair, big smile, and killer moves, had been the focus of attention on more than one occasion.

Katya walked to the sound system and plugged in her phone. “We need you to really pay attention to the song. The whole point of this performance is the interpretation of the lyrics. If you don’t feel it all the way down to your rotten bones, this is not gonna work shit.”

She pressed play and the soft notes of a piano started filling the room.

She’s imperfect, but she tries She is good, but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won’t ask for help

Vanessa looked at Brooke, her eyes were tender with understanding. They held each other’s stare as the artist seemed to be singing just for the two of them.

She is gone, but she used to be mine.

Brooked noticed how Vanessa’s face softened. For a moment, she wasn’t an unstoppable bundle of energy anymore, but a girl caught up in the sentiment of a song. The first tear ran down from Vanessa’s left eye. Her hand quickly moved to get rid of it in a rough motion. Brooke shook her head. Her kind stare told her to let it flow, to allow all feelings to run freely. That was the whole point, that was exactly what was needed. The raw emotion that invaded Vanessa was just the start of the magnificent piece they were about to bring to life, and they could use all the sentiment they could put into it.

“I don’t get it,” Elena spoke as soon as the piano faded out. “She’s a girl singing about another girl?” The question was pronounced, bathed in all her eleven year-old innocence.

Brooke walked to her, sitting on her heels in front of her, just like she had done the first time they met. “The girl is talking to herself, sweetheart. You know, sometimes grown-ups make bad decisions and they get hurt. Sometimes they wish there could be a way to go back in time and be who they were before, before they lost themselves. That’s who she’s singing about, herself. She used to be herself, now she’s not.”

Elena’s face twisted in confusion.

Brooke had to try a different approach. “Say, do you love Vanessa?” The girl nodded immediately. She didn’t need to think about her answer. “Okay, then, picture you are Vanessa when she was younger. You want to remind her what it’s like to love herself. That way she can try harder to be herself again, the person that you know she can truly be. That’s what the girl is singing about, and that’s the story you need to tell with your dance. Do you think you can do that?”

That seemed to do the trick, there was one more nod and a smile of understanding.

Brooke smiled right along with her. “Let’s get started then.”

An hour later they were all drenched in sweat, exhausted out of their minds, but extremely satisfied. The basics of the choreography had been put together and it promised to look good.

Vanessa had been struggling a little, since this was not her style at all, but Elena caught on to the vibe right away. She asked questions about the ensemble, clearly trying to figure out the story she needed to tell. Brooke tried to explain that her interpretation was about pain, and disappointment, and how she needed to channel those emotions when dancing.

It seemed like too much to ask for such a young girl but, as Vanessa had confessed at the next rehearsal, Elena had been through a lot. It wasn’t hard to connect her own heartache to the piece. Brooke didn’t know what the poor kid had gone through but, as traumatic as it was, it worked wonders for her take on the performance.

As it turned out, Elena was an innate dancer. Her moves were sharp and her extensions were long. Either Katya or Yvie worked with her every day and were stunned by such pure talent. She understood the meaning of every step and flowed with ease from one sequence to the next.

Her connection to Vanessa was one more thing they were surprised with. The two of them simply clicked. They trusted and supported each other in a way that made the performance seem effortless. The result wasn’t as graceful as Brooke had envisioned it, but that only offered an extra level of rawness to the rehearsal.

It was during one of those practices that Brooke could feel the emotion pouring out of their pores as they danced. Vanessa tried to get a grip of Elena and she kept pulling herself away, just like the performance was meant to be. Vanessa dropped to the ground, holding on to Elena’s leg, begging her not to go away. Elena’s free leg went up in the air, her foot reached way higher than her own head, then she brought it back down, forcefully pushing Vanessa away by the shoulder. Elena let out a loud grunt, captivated by the moment.

“That’s right!” Brooke encouraged her. “You are mad. You are angry. Let her know you are hurting.”

As the singer belted out a long note, Elena did just that. With her hands in tight fists, she started crying, spitting words to Vanessa’s face.

“I hate you!” She screamed with passion. “You never pay attention to me! You are always working and leave me with her! She doesn’t love me, she’s mean to me. I hate you both!” She was crying. She kept shouting but her words were distorted by strong sobs shaking her body.

Vanessa tried to hold her, for real this time, but Elena ran out of the room. Vanessa seemed confused for a second before she took off behind her.

Brooke watched the whole scene in surprise. She looked around. Trixie and Nina were stoning some of the costumes. The same expression could be found on their faces. “What was that all about?” She asked aloud, not sure if anybody had heard it.

“Her mom,” Trixie replied.

Nobody brought the topic back up, and rehearsals continued as planned the next day.

More often than not, Brooke found herself mesmerized by the agony in Elena’s performance. Something in her heart ached but she couldn’t bring herself to ask, and Vanessa never mentioned the outburst again. It was something stuck at the back of everybody’s mind, but they knew better than to push the subject.

The day of the competition reached them way too soon. There were still so many things they wanted to go through again, a lot of details that had yet to be sorted out. Trixie and Plastique were still arguing about makeup. Nina still had outfits with pins in them.

None of that mattered when they arrived at the venue. They could hear all the fuss as soon as they got down from the bus, the one that Brooke had specifically rented for them. Excitement ran through their veins, making them jump with anxiety. The Dream Girls were ready to hit the stage.

They found their dressing rooms and Vanessa gathered them around, instructing them to hold hands in a circle. Elena made sure to grab Brooke’s hand and pull her into the group. Vanessa said a prayer in Spanish. It didn’t matter that Brooke couldn’t understand a word, the power of the plea filled her with hope. She closed her eyes with the rest of them and bowed her head down, asking for someone or something from above to give them the strength and wisdom to make it through the event.

As soon as they were done, Vanessa nerves made her start bouncing on her spot. Brooke placed both her hands on Vanessa’s shoulders and looked at her straight in the eye.

“I believe in you,” Brooke assured her.

The tiniest of smiles appeared on Vanessa’s lips. “At least one of us does.”

Brooke shook her head. “Look around you, they all believe in you. They are here because of you. They are strong, because you are their source of strength. Go out there and kill them death. Eat or be eaten, eh?”

An air of determination washed over Vanessa’s face. “Let’s make them eat it!”

Brooke wished them success, reminding them luck was not needed when they were prepared, and went to find her place at the bleachers. It was a funny sight to say the least. Michelle and Nina sat together, engrossed in conversation. Next to them, Trixie and Katya pushed each other playfully; Detox fruitlessly asked them to calm down and Yvie laughed at the pointless request. The biggest contrast was Plastique and Silky, not only in a physical aspect, but Silky’s loud personality had absolutely nothing in common with Plastique’s demure one. Yet, they had somehow clicked and were now talking amicably.

Brooke tried to mentally recount the last few weeks, trying to find the moment when Vanessa’s world became her own and vise versa. She couldn’t find it, and she didn’t mind.

She sat next to her friends with a smile, and waited for the competition to start.

Vanessa hadn’t lied, the other groups were fierce, to say the least. They had more girls, brighter costumes, bigger hairs, tons of props. Their kicks were high and the death drops wouldn’t stop coming, each more extravagant than the last. Music was clearly highly produced as well. The groups presented intricate mixes with lots of changes and effects. Brooke bit her nails remembering the simple fusion they were presenting as a group number, not to mention the clean acapella song they had for the contemporary category.

It took almost an hour before The Dream Girls could take the stage. Vanessa and the girls did as amazing as Brooke thought they were going to. Vanessa spotted them in the audience right away, and she danced for them, and for them alone. It was as if the rest of the viewers had disappeared and she moved for her friends and nobody else. From their seats they clapped and encouraged the girls as they left their all on the vinyl floor.

The song seemed to be done in the blink of an eye. It was unbelievable how weeks of hard work reduced to just a few minutes, lapse that could make the world stop for a group of young girls.

Deliberation couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes but, for everybody in the gym, it felt like an eternity.

Results were given, not even half of the groups would make it to the next round. Everybody held their breath as teams were announced. With each place that was taken, a bit of Brooke’s confidence died. Then she heard it. The Dream Girls had made it. The last spot was theirs. Brooke jumped in her seat, screaming in utter delight. She didn’t even notice that she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips. The group started hugging each other as they cheered for the girls. They had made it to the next round.

The wait wasn’t as long this time, even when Vanessa and Elena were the last ones to perform their contemporary dance. Brooke felt extremely confident. The other numbers had been good, but she knew nobody was expecting what they had prepared.

The piano started playing and Brooke’s breath caught in her throat. She watched Vanessa and Elena pour their hearts into the dance.

Vanessa crawled across the floor, trying to reach Elena, who turned around and escaped her grip with a foot high in the air. Vanessa was visibly crying by the middle of the song. She missed a few counts but Elena covered for her just fine, imitating the half step Vanessa had skipped to make it look like a canon move. The girl was smart, she was hitting every mark on tempo. She was basically perfect in every form.

Tension was building as they performed a battle of emotions in front of the entire gymnasium. Then the long note came blasting from the speakers. Elena didn’t hold back. She screamed and yelled and cried and sobbed. Her exact words couldn’t be made out but they were not needed. The action was enough to have the audience shedding tears right along with her.

Vanessa kept begging forgiveness, reminded her that she was loved, that she was worth the world, that she mattered, that she was important. Her yelling was louder than Elena’s.

Between sobs and screaming they stopped fighting, they hugged each other, and let everything go inside the other’s arms. Elena bent down, placing one hand under Vanessa’s knees and the other in her back, she picked her up. That wasn’t part of the dance, but she needed it. Vanessa pressed herself against the girl’s chest and her knees gave out. They slowly descended to the floor, curled as close together as it was humanly possible, as the music slowly reached the end of the song.

Silence invaded the room, not a single sound was emitted from the over two hundred people in the place. Then someone sniffed, that was enough to take everybody out of their trance. There were claps, cheers, whistling, and a lot of tears.

Elena and Vanessa got up, their faces were stained with tears, makeup smudged carelessly down their cheeks. Their eyes were wide in disbelief when they were able to register the response from the audience. Everybody was on their feet, giving them the standing ovation they deserved. Wide smiles took over their faces as they thanked the public and ran out to the dressing room area.

Nobody was surprised when they made it to the final round.

The Dance Offs were next. They had practiced, they were prepared for them. The top five dancers had each picked their solo and knew exactly what they needed to do. If everything went as planned, they practically had the entire thing in the bag. They could save the community center.

After a short break. The leader of each dance group pulled out a piece of paper, determining their opponent.

Begging for them to get anyone but one particular group, The AAA Girls, Brooke closed her eyes as Elena placed her hand inside the bowl. Such was her luck, that specific name was written on the paper. The girls were older, more experienced, had bigger budgets. Brooke regretted not insisting more, she could have put in more money to make their girls look better. Vanessa had assured that their technique and personality was going to be enough, that everybody was there for the money, that nobody was going to show up with big stage settings.

Vanessa had been wrong.

It was fine. Everything was going to be okay. If she repeated it enough times, Brooke could make herself believe it. She needed to believe it. The team needed her support. Everything was going to be okay.

The music started, one at the time the girls faced their adversary. The AAA Girls were good, really good. They had been warned about it, but this was something else. Their movements were sensual and exaggerated. They would dance all around the gym, claiming the floor as theirs. They had confidence and the skills to back it up.

Brooke sat at the edge of her seat, and bit the side of her thumb. The Dream Girls were doing okay, but she didn’t think it was going to be enough. If she were the judge in that situation, she would give it to the other team. That was unacceptable. She needed to do something, anything. They couldn’t have gotten so far, worked this hard, to have their dream taken away.

It was the last turn. The girl from AAA was absolutely killing it. Brooke could see the girl from their group was nervous, even if she tried to hide it by looking annoyed. Her turn was up in a few seconds and it was easy to tell she felt anything but ready.

Suddenly, the tune of a familiar song started playing, Brooke remembered fooling around to it during one of the rehearsals. She got an idea.

“Yvie, come on!”

She didn’t even give her time to react, Brooke was already running to the main floor. She let her hair down from the bun, the blonde waves cascading all the way down to her waist. Her skirt was dropped somewhere around the stairs and the shirt fell right after, leaving her in nothing but her bright pink leotard.

Yvie was not far behind, unsure of what was going on, but always game.

They moved sexily around the floor, making sure that all eyes were on them. As soon as the chorus hit, Yvie did a somersault, landing right on the face of the other team.

Brooke spun around, knowing fully well that she could do a triple pirouette without a problem, and dropped to her knees dramatically.

Yvie supported herself on her head, her legs going up and fanning out above her. Brooke copied the move, letting all her weight to fall on her neck and shoulder as she did bicycle kicks in the air. She lowered herself and landed on a split, bouncing on her spread legs as she pretended to check on her nails. They had to let the other team know that kicking their asses was just that effortless.

A loud bang indicated the end of the Dance Off. Brooke was laughing. Her whole body felt on fire. She couldn’t stand still, electricity traveled through her body. She could hear nothing but the beating of her own heart, and the faint sound of cheering in the far distance.

Next thing she knew, Elena’s arms were around her, thanking her for saving them. She expected Vanessa to approach her as well, to congratulate her for the amazing performance. Her eyes travelled around the place, trying to find her to celebrate their victory. Nothing could have prepared her for what she found.

Vanessa stood to the side, her arms tight around her torso, and her face showing nothing but anger.

Brooke walked to her, unable to hide the smile. “Hey! I’m pretty sure we just won this bitch, don’t you think?”

A slow head shake answered her question. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Vanessa’s lips were a thin line. She spun around and stomped her way back to the dressing rooms, leaving Brooke standing alone and confused.

How could she be mad when they had definitely just won?

The audience was going insane, clapping and cheering, ecstatic about the performance they had just watched.

One of the judges requested everybody to settle down, and reminded them the rules of the Dance Offs. He read the pointers but there was only one that needed to be heard. Everything became background noise as they understood what had just happened.

The little stunt Yvie and Brooke had just pulled was enough reason to eliminate The Dream Girls from the competition.

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 8

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Things are starting to get dramatic now, a little more angst before things get better.  But hey.  This is me. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place.  

——————————————————————————————

Emma had spent most her working day avoiding Jenny and making sure she kept herself busy. She didn’t even want to think about Killian, and seeing the smug, thin lipped smile on Jenny’s face made her seethe. But why? Killian had not proposed a relationship to her officially, and she had not minded really, her intention to leave Storybrooke always there. They had sex and it was good beyond arguable doubt, but she had found out the hard way that Killian was a liar. Most men were in her experience, and a tiny part of her wished she could have met her father’s doppelganger instead of Killian so she wouldn’t be feeling the emptiness she did now.

Killian Jones wasn’t special and Emma had spent a good portion of the day asking herself why she had let him in so willingly. It was unusual for her to be physically attracted to both a man’s body and his brain so easily. In most cases, men lacked the ability to own both a good body and a good brain, but Emma had seen something different in Killian. He was smart, and he was charming, and he was physically fit and healthy. He was, in terms of the female perspective, the ideal mate. He was perfect. He could provide, he could entertain and he could protect. Maybe that was why she had let him into her home, her shower, her heart and her bed so easily.

Maybe that’s why she hurt so much right now.

Some people would call her some unsavoury names for what had happened between them. If they were in a relationship, a real working couple that kissed, cuddled and held hands in public, then the shower, bedroom and on-call room romps would be considered lovemaking. They would be two, consenting adults in a relationship that made love, but because they had neither accepted nor denied they were a couple and had told no one about them being together, then Emma and Killian were just having sex.

‘Were’ was the correct term, as in past tense. After Killian’s little amnesia stint last night, Emma never wanted to see him again. She hated him, but not the hate of an indignant spouse but the hate of a woman who had been lied to. Killian had lied to her; she had proved that in her very own lounge. He had looked her in the eye and denied the fact he had slept with Jenny. If he had admitted it she might have been a little more understanding, but he hadn’t and she had no mercy left. Better to make a clean break now before things got complicated.

Standing in her kitchen, the bright LED lighting shining down onto her back as she made herself a cup of coffee, Emma had never felt so depressed. Even if she did hate Killian right now, it didn’t stop her from missing him. Emma leaned sideways against the edge of her counter, crossing her bare feet at her ankles and laying one arm over her chest. Her other arm was occupied with stirring her coffee, whisking the black, steaming liquid into a hurricane in her mug, idly wishing he was there to comfort her.

Emma had been stirring for a little over five minutes and her hand had grown clammy from its close proximity to the steam radiating from the coffee. She had taken a personal day so that he couldn’t find her at the hospital, and had gone for comfort dressing; Large, long pyjama pants that scuffed the floor under her heels and oversized red t-shirt. She didn’t remember where she got it from but it made her feel safe when she was feeling vulnerable. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail but a few stray strands sprang from behind her ears and fell to frame her face. Emma didn’t know why she was even having a coffee. There was no reason in it and she rarely even drank hot beverages unless she was in a restaurant, and even then it was hot chocolate, but for some reason, the churning blackness reminded her of Killian and she longed to taste him on her tongue again.

And then, as if on cue, her phone began to ring. Its shrill tone circulated her hall, echoing into the kitchen. Emma didn’t look up because she knew it was Killian. He’d called the house so many times since yesterday that she had stopped running for the phone in case it was someone else. Emma hadn’t said a word to him each time, just slammed the phone back down and stormed off with a growl. She could unplug the line at the wall, but then she wouldn’t get the tingling feeling she craved so much every time Killian’s sultry drone jumped from the answering machine.

“Emma, it’s me again,” Killian audibly sighed into his phone and his breathy grunt vibrated around Emma’s house. She stopped her stirring for a second, dragging the metal spoon up the side of the mug and letting a few drips fall back into the void. She padded from the kitchen, intrigued to be closer to his voice. Emma wished she were closer to him. Her heart ached for him and every time she tried to tell herself he was nothing, he would call back and she would go crashing back into the depressive void of wanting him again.

Emma paused next to the answering machine, trailing her finger over the speaker softly and tenderly like it was Killian’s face and she was teasing his lips with her thumb. If it were Killian, the corner of his mouth would turn up in a shy smile and he would dip his head low, averting his gaze with a slight chuckle. To Emma’s disappointment, the machine simply sat silent, Killian’s frustrated sighs the only sound coming from their speaker.

“I don’t know-,” He paused. “What do you want me to say?” His voice begged from the black, rubbery machine. He sighed again and Emma could hear him moving around, probably undressing for bed. It was late and she wondered why she was even still up. She cast a glance outside into the dark street, the only light coming from a few street lamps further down the street, glowing down onto the pavement and the bright glare of a car’s headlight at it drove past. The engine roared up the neighbourhood and a dog started barking in the distance, hastily told to be quiet by a gruff voice.

“Maybe you’re in bed already,” Killian’s words trailed off. If it was possible, Emma thought his voice was even more seductive than in person, deepened by the travel along wires and communication technologies that had it jumping into the room and making love to her ears. “I think we need to talk, Emma. There has been a mistake somewhere. I’m not the man you think I am. I would never-,” Killian softly pleaded with no one, his last words tinted with frustration. There was a long pause and Emma thought he was gone before she heard the crackle of movement from the other end of the phone. “I really like you, Emma. I miss you, love,” Killian finally whispered, letting his words linger in the phone a little longer before finally hanging up.

Before she knew what she was doing, Emma’s hand shot out and she grabbed the phone from the stand, clutching it to her ear in the hopes he was still there. Why had she turned off her cell again? Being away from him was becoming increasingly difficult and it had only been a day. The single dial tone entered her ear cavity and echoed against her eardrum, indicating the line was dead and Killian had gone. Emma’s entire body relaxed a little but the butterflies still fluttered around her stomach as she involuntarily clutched the phone harder to her ear. Even if she harboured a lingering doubt, Emma still missed him like nothing she could describe.

--

“ Mr Jones,” the hospital administrative secretary sighed from behind the desk in a tired tone. “Dr Swan doesn’t want to see you.” Her voice was defiant and even though she was small and very finely built, she was trying to act as aggressive as she could.

Killian shook his head, letting out a sigh with a downturned frown. He shuffled his feet against the tiled floor and the faint smell of cleaning fluid wafting in the halls of the pristine hospital. “I’ve just come to see a nurse and have my stitches out,” Killian admitted sadly. “I’m not here to see Em…Dr. Swan,” he correctly quickly, gulping hard at the mere thought of her.

It had been half a week since Emma had avoided him completely and he had postponed coming to the hospital to get his stitches removed in respect of her wishes. Emma didn���t want to see him and he felt too strongly about her to upset her anymore. Somehow he had already managed to slip into his own depression, the loss he felt too strong to deny even to himself, but the pull of the stitches against his scalp had become too painful to ignore anymore. He just hoped he could be in and out before Emma spotted him.

The receptionist looked up at him and she softened a little. He looked pathetic and beaten, his three days of facial growth starting to curl back towards his skin and his eyes blackened from lack of sleep. She tore her eyes from his dishevelled clothing long enough to type his name into the computer and make a note that he was here. “You’re lucky,” she lied, bumping his name to the top of the list through pity. “If you go straight to curtain three, Jenny can take your stitches out now, and then you can go get cleaned up before Emma sees you like that,” she stared at him over the rim of her oval glasses and gave him a serious nod.

Killian nodded in agreement and took the chart she handed to him. “Thank you,” he breathed, his mouth twisting at the corner in the first smile that had graced his lips in nearly four days. It didn’t sound like a long time, and he had seen Emma for even less time, but now that he knew she possibly never wanted to see him again, he was so scared. He was scared of going to work every day and having to explain to David why he wasn’t working to his full potential. He was scared of having to admit to himself that maybe he had been wrong at one stage in his life and losing Emma was some kind of wicked karma. Most of all, Killian was scared of never being able to tell her how much he now realised he loved her.

The hospital was quiet today, especially for a Wednesday. Emma always had half days on Wednesdays and she had previously agreed to let him take her to lunch today. Killian dragged his feet, keeping his head hanging low as he made his way into the triage unit and tried not to think about it. He paused and his rubber soled shoes squeaked on the floor underfoot while he lifted his head and inspected the vibrant red numbers hanging from a solid metallic pole on each cubicle. He spied curtain three and then saw some shadows moving underneath the rippled pink fabric, cast across the green of the linoleum floor by some hospital issue slip-on shoes.

Pulling back the curtain, Killian saw the back of the nurse he had been assigned. He shuffled into the cubicle and took a seat down next to the tray of implements, each one as sharp and silvery as the one sitting next to it. They all rested on some dark blue tissue paper and Killian stared at his reflection in them for a second.

“Okay, what can I do for you today?” The nurse chimed, her dirty blonde locks swinging half a second slower than her body as she turned around to look at the man in front of her. She was still arranging her latex gloves on her fingers and reached out to pick up the chart Killian had left sitting next to the tray on tools in front of him. “Killian…Jones?” she gasped shocked, snapping her head up to look at him with wide eyes.

Killian knew who she was as soon as she had turned around. Her hair had changed length but was still the same colour. Light, yellowing blonde mixed with some traces of darker, browner hairs but it had grown longer and she’d straightened it. Her cheeks flushed with a pink glow and she went rigid, her fingers turning white against the cool plastic of the chart in her hand. The silence in the cubicle was deafening and Killian’s eyes darted to the nametag that was pinned to the pink jersey covering her salmon scrubs.

“Jenny?” he spat, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “That’s original,” he growled, staring at her.

Jenny shifted her position and hugged the clipboard to her chest, the plastic of her nametag clattering against the metallic clip at the top of the board. “I had to change my name,” she shrugged, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “I couldn’t get within a hundred yards of you called Shelley, now could I?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “That was the point, Shelley,” he droned angrily. “It’s called a restraining order for that exact reason.” Killian stood and paced the cubicle, rubbing his fingers through his stubble and exhaling hard. His breath condensed against his palm and he balled his hand into a fist, pounding it loosely against his forehead. “I could have you arrested right now,” he grunted, turning to look at her.

Jenny, formerly Shelley, stalked towards him, stopping by the table of implements and resting Killian’s chart on the tray with a clatter of metal against plastic. She reached out to touch him on the arm, smoothing her fingertips over the fabric of his coat as her eyes molested his body. “No,” she sighed dramatically. “You really couldn’t Killian.”

Killian whipped his gaze towards her and narrowed his eyes. He shook her hand from his arm and took a step back from her, stumbling into the cupboard of medications behind him. He stared at her questioningly, tilting his head and letting out a sadistic laugh as he balanced his weight behind him on the countertop, eyes wide with realisation. “Of course.” Killian shook his head, cursing himself for being so ridiculous. “You’ve changed your name,” he breathed.

“That’s right,” Shelley said triumphantly, taking another step towards him. “And the restraining order was issued for a Shelley Madison, not Jennifer Madison,” she smirked evilly. “You can’t touch me, Killian. Although, I wish you would.” She pouted and gave him a hungry stare, biting her bottom lip.

Killian looked at her again and took another step away from her. “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you think you’ve accomplished by doing this…” Killian began but her excited rant cut him off.

“Don’t you see?!” She sang enthusiastically, clapping her hands together at her chest. “Killian, we can be together now. You and I can be together, just like we want.” She nodded at him with a broad smile on her face.

“What?!” Killian snapped, holding out his hand and pointing to her. “You want that,” he accused. “I never wanted that. You…” he said, pointing to her menacingly and letting a short burst of laughter bubble from his throat. “You are insane, Shelley.” Killian pulled open his jacket and reached into the inside pocket for his cell phone. He swiped the screen open and punched in three numbers.

“What are you doing, my love?” Shelley soothed, watching his hands as he dialled and then lifted the cell phone to his ear. Her smile faded and her eyes searched his face.

“I’m calling the bloody police, Shelley,” Killian said loudly, turning from her and stalking across the cubicle again. “There is absolutely no way you managed to change your name legally,” he accused sharply, pointing at her again. Shelley blushed and looked down to her feet, confirming his accusation. “And you are breaking the terms of the order right now!” Killian bellowed, pointing to the floor angrily.

“Okay, so I sort of acquired a fake ID and stuff,” Shelley said with a shrug, walking towards him and reaching for the phone pressed to his head. Her long, delicate fingers traced over Killian’s knuckles, sliding down to his palm and across the cell phone. Killian spun to her and pulled her hand away from his roughly.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, his voice dark and void of emotion. “Everything you touch just dissolves around me!” he roared. “I went on one date with you. One date! We never kissed. We never slept with each other. And yet, you thought the complete opposite and my life was ruined!” He took a step towards her, his blood boiling under his skin and making his entire body hot and clammy.

Shelley smiled at him sweetly and Killian thought he might throw up. “Why are you so mad, lover?” she whispered at him, flicking her tongue out across the cherry red lipstick on her lips.

“Mad?!” Killian laughed wildly, turning from her again. “I’m not mad,” he shouted sarcastically. “Why would I be mad? I’ve only had to move house, change my car, my email, my phone numbers,” he trailed off, waving his arms erratically around the small, enclosed space. He took a long breath, trying to push away the hatred he felt for her. “I had to get a bloody restraining order to keep you away from me!”

“That’s just a technicality,” Shelley smiled, running her fingers through her hair. She turned from him, sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. “Like that sickly cute blonde you’ve been seeing.” Her voice turned darker, tainted with jealousy, and Killian spun to face her, his jaw hanging open.

“You,” he growled accusingly, willing the police to answer their ringing telephone. Everything became clear. Jenny wasn’t someone he had been trying to remember for the last three days; Jenny was someone he had been trying to forget for nearly two years. Only, Emma didn’t realise that and he had to tell her before she gave up on him forever.

“Aww,” Shelley cooed with an evil grin when she saw his realisation. “It’s okay, baby,” she soothed, stepping towards him again. Killian took a step back and was suddenly pressed against the wall. “She couldn’t love you like I do anyway,” Shelley whispered, pressing her hands to his chest. Killian looked over to his left, noticing the red, security button hidden between a mess of tangled tubes and an unplugged heart monitor. He quickly pushed against Shelley’s shoulder’s, making her stumble in her heels that clicked against the floor and he flattened his palm over the button, immediately calling for security just as the call to the police finally connected.

“Thank the gods,” Killian whispered to himself. “Hello, my name is Killian Jones. I have a restraining order out against a Shelley Madison and she is breaking the terms right now. Yes, I’d like her arrested. Now,” Killian said, staring over at Shelley’s shocked face as the woman on the other end of the phone busily tapped away at a computer, searching for the order. Killian told the woman on the telephone where he was and no sooner had he done so, two burly security guards burst into the cubicle with police static erupting from their shoulder bound radios, and arrested Shelley.

“You can’t quit our love!” Shelley crowed as one of the guards wrenched her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. Killian stepped aside as she was lead from the cubicle, his only thought of Emma. He had to find her.

--

So far, Emma’s day had been eventful, but so far, there had been no Killian Jones to ruin it. A few runny noses with a side helping of sickness meant the city was heading for an outbreak. Emma had treated seven patients today with the same symptoms, two of which had been admitted after spontaneously fainting, and three of which felt like they could pass out and had been brought in by a concerned family member.

It wasn’t even a prejudice bug either because all of her patients ranged from a few months old to the elderly. There was so much coughing, patients heaving in their beds and gasping for much needed air after each convulsion, Emma had taken it upon herself to wear a mask. The thin, light blue cotton fabric wasn’t a surefire fail safe way of prevention, but it was as good of a prophylactic as anyone who worked in an ER would get.

And then there was Jenny, the delicately beautiful and sickeningly sweet nurse who had haunted Emma’s every thought. She often sat on her own, filling out paperwork, wishing she was writing out the time of death on Jenny’s death certificate. Even if she wasn’t qualified to actually do that, it still felt good to daydream. Apparently, when she returned from lunch, there had been some kind of commotion in the emergency room and Jenny had been carted off in steel bracelets.

A satisfied smile crept across Emma’s face, much like the one she had worn when she had been told about Jenny’s rather public exit from the hospital, and she sighed happily, holding onto the feeling she held in her heart. It was warm, almost heated from the depth of Hell itself, and she knew it was wrong to feel like it but she didn’t care. Emma had got her retribution on Jenny, or at least, someone watching over her had made sure she had.

Rounding the corner to her neighbourhood, Emma was met with the blinding deep orange of the sunset over the horizon. It still blazed in the sky, making her squint and instantly reach up for the sun visor of her classic bug. It slapped against the windshield and when Emma opened her eyes wider, she gripped at the steering wheel in half anger, half anticipation of what she saw standing in her parking space.

Killian looked worn and tired and he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and even that was just a guess. His jacket was dirty and his skin was almost the same colour as the ground he was standing on. As the car neared the space and she stopped it in the road, he quickly rushed to the side, motioning for her to roll the window down with a waving of his hand. Emma gulped, looking away from him quickly and gripping harder to the wheel. If she didn’t, she’d be tempted to push the door open and tend his wounds, righting his wrongs and mending his broken heart with all the forgiveness she could muster. Emma was trapped between two levels. On one she desperately wanted him to tell her he had never ever met Jenny and she wanted to believe him. On the other, her rationale told her that regardless of how broken he seemed right now, his suffering was worth it because of how he had made her feel.

Finally, she grabbed the outdated handle and began winding it backwards, the glass sliding against the rubber seals as it opened. She kept her eyes forward, not looking at him as he spoke her name like a whisper of relief. “Emma.”

Killian’s heart twisted in his chest and he had totally forgotten what he wanted to say at the mere sight of her. “Get out of my space, Killian,” Emma said, her voice tired and physically drained. Her shoulders slumped against the back of the seat, aching but itching for his touch.

“Emma, please listen to me,” Killian tried again, stepping closer to the car. The engine was still running, ticking over in the quiet street and it took all Emma had not to jerk forward and leave him standing in the void of her allocated parking space.

“Killian, please,” Emma stopped him, tilting her head back and audibly sighing into the car. Killian watched her closely and swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted her to say she knew. He wanted her to tell him that she understood. If she didn’t it would be hard to explain and even harder to understand as an outsider. Finally, she turned her weary head towards his and peeled her eyes open to meet his. “Are you going to move or do I have to park down the street?”

Killian felt all the blood drain from his face at her cold, harsh words. They were not what he had been expecting and they took him by surprise. He blinked a few times, staring at her dumbly with his mouth agape and the wind tugging gently at his jacket. One side flapped open and Emma sighed, stepping on the rubbery pedal and accelerating past him toward the next space around the corner.

“Emma! Wait!” Killian’s eyes went wide and he bolted after her car, his boots pounding the asphalt as he chased after her car. The wind whipped at his face, prickling against his cheeks and turning them a rosy pink shade as he thudded to a halt in the middle of the road, unable to keep up with the pace of the bug. His arm hung loosely at his sides and he grabbed his sides, desperately needing oxygen in his muscles. He pinched his eyes closed and hunched over painfully, panting hard and his lungs burning from his sudden exertion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one of the neighbour's walls, so without further thought, he sprang for it, leaning against the gritty wall of the red brick building and waited.

Emma sat in her car for fifteen minutes, just to make sure he had gone. She could hear every second ticking down on her watch combined with the gentle sounds of her engine as the bug cooled down. As she sat in her car, she contemplated many things. She considered driving back to the hospital to find out why Jenny had been frogmarched out of the ER in handcuffs. She considered rushing out of the car and into Killian’s arms, telling him she didn’t care who he was because she was in love with him. And above all, she considered leaving Storybrooke and never returning.

Killian looked at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time in a minute and the illuminated hands gently ticked on by. Emma had gone around the corner over fifteen minutes ago and still, she had not returned. The sun had finally dwindled in the sky and the street lamp above Killian flickered to life. He tilted his face up towards it, listening to the hum of electricity surge through the stem of the lamp, igniting the fake daylight that basked his sorrowful face in a dim orange glow.

His intrigue was so engrossed in the inner working of the lamp that he nearly missed Emma as she walked past. Her head was held high, and her keys jingled in her hands as she fiddled for her front door key, the metallic objects clinking against each other and grabbing his attention. Killian looked over at her, double taking when he mistook her silky, yellow hair for a darker chestnut brown in the darkness. When she passed under the next streetlamp and it illuminated her tresses with the radiance of the sunrise, Killian stumbled over his feet to catch up.

“Emma!” he called, jogging to her and his breath leaving his mouth and instantly cooling into condensation in the air. “Emma, please wait,” He begged, quickening his pace when she did.

“No, Killian,” she said firmly, clinking her low heels harder on the ground as she strode determinedly for her front door. All she had to do was reach the gate. All she had to do was cross over the line between the real world and her childhood land of dreams and fantasies and she would be safe.

“Emma, I can explain. I can explain everything,” Killian tried again, quickly shooting a glance down at the ground as he walked, careful not to trip her up with his incessant pleading. He was walking awkwardly beside her, half in front of her, half to her side and he was holding out his chilled hands to her in a forgiving beg. “Please!” he said a little firmer, stepping in front of her and jogging back down the sidewalk.

Emma clutched her bag harder to her torso, the well sewn brown leather feeling sticky under her sweaty fingertips. She kept her focus on the ground before her, the flash of gum and stains that were stuck to the pavement passing her eyes as she strode forward. “Killian,” she tried again, not looking at him but letting out a growl of frustration when he began to slow down in front of her. She stopped dead, two houses from hers and her shoulders slumped back in their joints when she looked back up to him. “What?”

Taken back by her callous, snappy words, Killian stopped for a second. He kept his distance, at least a few feet from her and felt the heat generated from chasing her invade his skin under his shirt and pants. His cheeks prickled with heat and he panted, swallowing a lump down his constricted throat. “Something happened today,” he began softly. “Something you should know about.”

Emma bit her bottom lip and rolled her eyes sideways, catching the stare from an elderly neighbour who was watching them out of her window, curtains twitching sideways a few times. Emma let her eyes fall closed and she pinched the top of her nose between her thumb and finger, letting her breath leave her on an audible sigh. “What, Killian? Because I’ve had a really, really bad day. Week in fact. You-.” She pointed at him and dug her finger into his chest as she stepped forward. “I’ve had a bad week because of you.”

Killian took a step back and quickly looked behind him when his foot caught on a lump in the pavement, the thick, crumbly root from a nearby tree bursting up through the hardened ground. “I’m so sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, reaching for her hand, her skin much warmer than his own. Emma pulled her hand from his, lifting her gaze to his once more. His eyes were the lightest shade of grey blue she had seen them in a long while and he reminded her of a nervous child when they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Sorry doesn’t take away how I feel, Killian,” Emma snapped, brushing past him and hurrying up her front steps, muttering as she did. “I’ve built these walls around me, for so long, and you come in and somehow tear them down, making me feel for you!” Her shoes clicked against the ground and were finally dulled when she stepped into her house and slammed the door in his face.

“Emma!” Killian called, shooting a glance around the empty street before following her steps up to the front door. He turned sideways, falling against the old, creaking wood onto his shoulder and he let his head loll to the side and rest against the door. “Emma, please, listen to me,” Killian pleaded quietly, his breath condensing against the painted door as he spoke.

Emma swallowed hard, leaning back against the front door and covering her face with her hands. Her head fell backwards and she panted hard in long, angry breaths, trying to forget the fact that there was barely two inches of wood between them. Emma could swear she could feel Killian’s body heat radiating through the door and it made all of her hairs stand to attention. She hated how he made her feel. She hated her body’s reaction to him. Even just seeing him, her body surging with anger and adrenaline, had made her stomach do flips and she had fought to keep her tone of voice aggravated. No one had ever got through the wall before, into her heart, and made her feel so loved. She cleared her throat and kept her eyes closed. “I’m listening.”

Killian heard her words, barely a whisper through the door and felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he said softly, his words barely audible to even him. He pressed his hand to the door beside his face, his fingertips splayed out against the wood as he watched them flex next to his features. Killian took a deep breath and rolled his forehead against the door. “Emma I know how you found out about Jenny. I want you to know, it didn’t happen how you were told,” Killian paused, waiting for her response.

The name on his lips was enough to make Emma fume on the opposite side of the door and she was thankful he couldn’t see her jaw clenching and her fists balling into tight, white rimmed shapes at her sides. There was a silent pause and then she heard him inhale to start talking some more. “Her name isn’t Jenny. It’s Shelley. Shelley Madison.” Killian’s voice was desperate and muffled through the wood.

For a second, Killian thought Emma might have walked off and left him talking to the peeling black paint layered over the front door. He couldn’t hear anything, not even her breathing or an imagined heartbeat through the barrier like he had before. He looked down to his feet, focusing idly on the potted plant that had long since dried in the sunshine sitting beside the doormat. He was about to call her name to confirm her presence when he heard the door latch click with a dull clatter and felt the door pull from the safety of the frame. Killian gulped hard and stood erect, searching her face when she stepped into view. “Go on,” Emma whispered, her tone lighter than before.

Killian let out the breath he had been holding and continued. “Two years ago, some guys at the office set me up on a blind date with a woman named Shelley,” he started, watching her face as she digested the information he was telling her. “We went on one date before I realised she wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be with.”

“How did you tell her?” Emma rasped, her voice low and her brow furrowed as she interrupted him. She was searching for an excuse to still hate him, a reason to rebuild the barrier around her heart.

“I’m sorry?” Killian said with a shake of his head. Her question confused him for a second and he stared at her with his mouth open.

“How did you tell her you didn’t think you should see her again?” Emma repeated slower and more sarcastic than before.

Killian averted his gaze to the ground again and licked his lips nervously. He pinched his eyes closed and let his words leave his mouth quietly. “We exchanged numbers and I said I’d call her.”

“But you never did,” Emma interrupted him again, finishing his shameful admittance for him. Killian looked back up to her sheepishly and Emma let out a low laugh. “You’re a bastard, Killian,” Emma scoffed, stepping back into the house and pushing hard against the door.

“No! Wait,” Killian stepped into the door, wedging his foot in between the door and its frame. Emma slammed the door against his foot and Killian gritted his teeth when the pain he tried to tell himself it was worth shot up his leg. He knew Emma was worth it and she deserved the truth. “I was going to call her,” Killian argued, feeling her release the door from his foot and then the rush of blood to the area as it began to bruise in his shoe. His hand came up and he gripped to the doorframe, supporting his weight and taking it off his foot subtly. “Work got in the way and then she called me.”

Emma studied his face and tilted her head to the side. “What did you say to her?” Emma asked quickly, folding her arms across her chest and letting the door swing open against her better judgement.

Killian looked up at her and shrugged. “I told her we were not right for each other. That she shouldn’t waste her time with me.”

“Why do I get the feeling there is more to this story?” Emma said with an exhausted sigh. Her voice was laced with agitation and tiredness. All she wanted was for Killian to get to the point in his story. Killian looked at her and straightened his posture but did not step into the house. “Get to the point, Killian.”

“Things got worse,” Killian said quickly. “She stalked me. Followed me to work, home from work, and wherever I went during the weekends. She’d call me day and night, declaring her love for me and telling me how we were meant to be together,” Killian’s declaration of truth was interrupted by Emma’s giggling and he watched her shake her head with a confused frown.

Emma caught him staring at her and brushed her hair from her brow with a quick sweep of her hand. She shook her head and sent her frayed, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Now you know how I feel, Killian,” Emma said, the sarcasm in her voice erupting into the hallway.

“Emma, it isn’t funny. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel in any way uncomfortable,” he said with pink in his cheeks. “I knew what you had been told was wrong, and you deserve to know the truth.” Killian finally stepped into the house and pushed the door closed behind him. “You can tell me to leave, and I’ll respect whatever your heart desires if that is truly what you want. I just wanted the chance to explain everything.”

Emma’s laughter faded away slowly and she looked up at him. He looked pathetic. Not even his well pressed suit could disguise the fact he had days of facial hair growing from his chin, spiky and radiating in all directions. His eyes were filled with a watery glint of something she couldn’t place and he really looked ready to give up. Emma sighed and twisted her mouth sideways, looking and staring blankly into her lounge. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Deadly. Emma, I am not that kind of man, I give you my word,” Killian said softly. “I had to get a restraining order, change my email, phone numbers, my car, my address. I had to leave everything. Even move the business across the state,” he sighed, running his hand over his brow that had begun to drip with tiny beads of sweat under the hot, hallway lighting above his head.

Emma was taken back. “A restraining order? Oh my God, Killian.”

“Now do you see? The nurse at the hospital, Jenny or something, that wasn’t her name,” he shook his head and his words left his mouth in a relieved breathy whisper. “Shelley had changed her name illegally, some fake documents the cops said, and got a job at the hospital for God only knows what reason. Emma, she still thinks we should be together and that conversation you overheard that day at the hospital? About me? That was part of her plan to get rid of you.”

Emma’s eyes went wide with shock and she suddenly felt violated. She narrowed her gaze and tilted her head. “She knew about us?”

“Emma, she knew everything,” Killian said, his voice cracking with a sudden fear.

“Where has she been for two years? Why hasn’t she surfaced before now?” Emma asked, confused.

Killian felt his body flush with a pink glow and he looked away from her, watching his feet shuffle on the carpet. “I haven’t exactly dated in two years. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” Killian growled to himself, scratching the patch of skin behind his ear, something Emma had noticed he did when nervous. “I should have realised. I should have noticed her at the hospital but, truth be told, all I saw was you.” Killian lifted his gaze to hers and blushed a little, swallowing hard.

“You were at the hospital today,” Emma said surely. It wasn’t a question because she knew he had been there. Even before she had heard about Jenny or Shelley, put two and two together just now, she had known. Killian was like a presence she could feel wherever she was. “That’s why Jenny was arrested.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded, his feet steadfast on the ground while his heart tugged at his brain to tell them to step towards her. “I went to get my stitches out. Guess who was my assigned nurse?” Killian said with numb sarcasm. “When I realised who she was and that she was breaking the terms of the order, I had her arrested.”

Emma let out a long sigh and felt her guard drop as her body relaxed. It made sense, and even if it did seem highly far fetched, something in Killian’s voice told her it was all true. Emma lifted her hand to her mouth and nibbled on her thumbnail, her entire brain rushing with thought. She could still hate Killian but to be honest, all she felt for him was sorrow. She had jumped to conclusions and led herself to believe that he was nothing more than another guy who would use her.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked softly, resting his hand to her shoulder and shaking her from her thoughts.

Emma jumped a little, her eyes darting to his hand on her shoulder, searing her flesh through the coat she was still wearing and then to his eyes. She didn’t know why she had chosen that exact moment to make a joke, but unable to shake the thought from her brain, she let it slip from her lips with a smile.

“You hadn’t had sex in two years?” She laughed, arching an eyebrow at him. “And you broke your celibacy with me?” She took his hand from her shoulder, watching as her own fingers traced the ridges of his knuckles.

Killian relaxed and laughed with her as he shook his head. “Emma, you did something to me that day I met you. Something I have never felt before but something I’m pretty sure I want to feel for the rest of my life.” As his laughter subsided, Killian twisted their hands until he was caressing hers this time. “If you’d let me, I’d like to take you to lunch. I’d like to start again and forget about this whole Jenny thing, alright?”

“Like a date?” Emma felt her heart flutter again, a feeling she had missed since he had been gone, and she stared at him with a smile. She let her eyes fall closed and she nodded softly. “Okay,” she agreed lightly. “Tomorrow, you can take me to lunch.”

Killian lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. The soft, wispy beard on his jaw scratched at her hand but Emma did not notice. “Lunch, tomorrow,” he repeated, kissing her skin, letting his lips linger on her knuckles longer than he had intended. “Thank you, Emma.”

“Wear something sexy,” Emma teased, letting her hand slip from his as he walked back towards the door, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth on a laugh.

[fallforcs]

The Tutor

Art by: @jell-obeans

Author: @blackwidownat2814

Summary: How long does it take to honest-to-God fall in love with someone?  A week? A year? This was not something that usually went through Emma Swan’s daily thought processes.  She prided herself on keeping away from any kind of attachments, be it friends or just men in general. She wasn’t a man-hater, she just saw men for what they were: assholes.  Assholes who thought she owed them something after just one date or thought her weak and tried to take advantage of her kindness. She swore she wouldn’t fall for a nice guy with a pretty face.  But somehow, she still ended up in her current problem: quite possibly, most definitely,maybe, in love with The Tutor.

Rating and reason for the rating: I think the rating is either General or Teen, simply because I use 2 or 3 different ‘curse words’ a few times.

Trigger warnings: None

It all started a year and half before.  Emma had only been working at Storybook Public Library for three weeks when she met him…

~*~*~*~*~*~

A Year and a Half Ago…

“Emma, are you good to run the desk on your own for a bit?” asked Belle.  She was the head librarian of Storybrooke’s small public library and Emma’s savior when she came looking for a job just a month ago.

“’Course boss!” Emma called.

“I told you not to call me that!”

“I know!”  Emma smiled as she made her way out to the reference desk in the middle of the library.  She took a seat behind the computer and pulled up her ebook to keep her company. She had barely started the latest chapter of ‘ Dead to the World’ by Charlaine Harris, when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Emma looked up and the elbow she was using to hold up her head while she read slipped off the desk, surprising her immensely.  The man before her was beyond gorgeous, even with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay love?”

“Wha–”  The man pointed to her elbow.

“Your elbow, you’ve hit it.  Are you okay?”

“Oh!  Yeah, yeah.  Nothing a little embarrassment won’t take care of.”  Emma took a deep breath and put on her customer service smile.  “What can I help you find today sir?”

“I just need one of the study rooms please love.”

“Sure, just need your library card to sign you in.”  The man place his briefcase and small stack of books onto the desk counter and pulled out his wallet to fish through it for his card.  Once located, he handed it over. “Name?”

“Killian. Jones…and if you’ve one of the larger rooms, could I please have that one?”

“Of course.”  Emma slid Killian Jones’ card into the binder that held the IDs and library cards of patrons using the study rooms and handed back a key with a number one hanging off of it.  “There you go.”

“Thank you.”  He picked up his things and turned to leave for the study room, “By the way, if little Roland Locksley asks for me, could you point him in the right direction?”

“Sure.”

Sure enough, Roland, and his dad Robin, showed up 15 minutes later.  About an hour later, they were both met near the front desk by Robin, who conversed with Jones with Roland wandered over to chat with Emma.  At six years old, Roland was a cute kid with ‘dimples for days’, as Belle liked to say often.

“Hi Miss Emma!”

“Hey kid.  How are you?”

“I’m okay.”  He came around the desk and sat next to her.  “Uncle Killy says I’m doing much better!”

“And what does Uncle Killy say you’re much better at?”

“He’s teaching me to read better!”  His smile dropped before he continued, “I wasn’t doing so good after my mommy went to Heaven, so Daddy asked Uncle Killy to help me.”  Emma saw his face begin to crumple and took his little hands in hers.

“Hey…I know what it’s like to lose someone like that.  If you ever need someone to talk to, you can come talk to me too, okay Roland?”

“Yes Miss Emma.”  He jumped in her arms and gave her a big hug.

During their small talk, Killian and Robin had turned their attention to the two of them.  Many years later, Robin would say that he knew the exact moment Killian Jones fell in love with Emma Swan.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One Year Ago…

Emma was writing up some ideas for library programs when a shadow fell over her.  She looked up to see a smiling Killian Jones.

“Hey Killian.  What can I help you with?”

“Afternoon dear Swan.  Could I have one of the study rooms please?”  Emma took his library card and stuck it in the folder and handed him the key.

“So, how are Roland and the others doing?”

“Swimmingly, Swan.  They’ve shown marked improvement and Roland’s favorite part is getting to see you afterwards…as is mine.”

Emma felt her cheeks beginning to heat up and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.  She couldn’t let him see that he affected her, so she steeled herself and looked back up.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

“Only to the ones I can’t wait to see every day.”

“Uh huh.”

“So, Swan, I was wonder–”  Before Killian could continue, he was interrupted by Leo Nolan and his father David, Storybrooke’s Sheriff.

“Mithter Killian!” Leo cried, jogging over to his tutor.

“Inside voices now lad, we are in a library”, he replied.  “We wouldn’t want the Lady Swan to get mad at us, would we?”  Leo shook his little head and smiled up at Emma.

“Sowwy Mith Emma.”  She leaned over the desk and ruffled his blonde hairs.

“No worries Leo, just remember for next time, okay?”

“Yeth ma’am!”

“Well lad, let’s get to work, shall we?”  Leo hugged his dad bye and Killian offered his hand to the little boy and they went over to their assigned study room to get to work.

“He’s a pretty nice guy you know”, said David as he leaned on the reference desk.

“Of course he is, he’s your son”, Emma replied as she typed something up.  “You and Mary Margaret wouldn’t raise anyone less.”

“I wasn’t talking about Leo.”

“I know you weren’t.”  She sighed and looked up from her computer, “Let it go David.  It’s never going to happen.”

“He likes you Emma.”

“So?  I liked Neal and look what that asshole did to me.  I liked Walsh and we just don’t talk about him. ”

“Not every guy that show’s an interest is a dick.”

“Yeah, well…in my experience, they have been.”

An hour later, when Killian was done with Leo’s tutoring, he was back at the desk after seeing Leo off to David.

“Hello again Swan.”

“Hey Killian.”  She looked up from her work once more, to see him just standing there, fidgeting and scratching behind his ear.  “Do you need something else or…?”

“Swan…Emma, uh, I was wondering if you might, um…”  Emma couldn’t help but smile lightly at his shy demeanor when he was usually so open and flirty with her (and any woman probably, she thought to herself).  “…like to get a coffee or a meal with me sometime?”

“Killian…”  Not looking at Killian, Emma sighed and reached up to fidget with her necklace, the main reminder she held that no man is ever to be trusted, no matter what, because they will turn on you.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  

Many a man had called her an ice-hearted bitch, and maybe she was from time to time, but in this moment, something about the way the big and shy smile melted from Killian’s face at her rejection, made her feel especially like an ice-hearted bitch, and she didn’t even go full tilt when she said no.  Especially when, after looking down at the floor, he looked back up at her and he had the fakest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Something like that didn’t belong on Killian’s face.

“In that case, please forgive me for disturbing you Miss Swan.”  

Killian picked up his briefcase from where he had set it on the counter and she saw his left hand in full view for the very first time since they’d met:  there were scars all along the fingers and patches of burned and slightly pink-tinged skin all around it. Emma hadn’t meant to stare, she really didn’t, but Killian caught her and now even the fake smile was gone.

“It’s not polite to stare Miss Swan”, he said with a hard tone.

“Oh, um…I’m sorry Killian I did–”  She tried apologizing but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Forget about it”, he said, and without a goodbye or any parting word, he spun on his heel and left the library in a hurry.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Two Weeks Later…

She hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks and she was so sure it was because of her.  The kids still came for tutoring, but it was with Mary Margaret instead.

Finally, after she couldn’t take it anymore, Emma stopped Mary Margaret one afternoon to ask after Killian.

“Hey Mary Margaret?  Can I ask you something?”

“Hey Emma.  Sure, yeah. What’s up?”

“Why are you here?”  Nothing the confused look on her friend’s face, she backtracked.  “What I should’ve asked was why isn’t Killian here?” Mary Margaret gave her a smug smile, like she knew something Emma didn’t.  “No, don’t even start.”

“He’s on vacation.  He went to see his brother’s family in Boston because his sister-in-law just gave birth to their first”, she said.

“Oh, okay.”

“He should be back in a day or so.”

And she was right, because two days later, Killian was back at the library tutoring the kids.  When he stopped at the desk to return his key and get his card back, Emma gave him a small smile.

“I heard you went to see family.  How are the new parents doing?” Killian huffed a small laugh, but didn’t look her in the eye.

“Mary Margaret sure doesn’t know how to keep things to herself, does she?”

“Not really, no.”

“I’m just glad I haven’t told her any of my other secrets.”  Killian stuffed his card into his wallet, and turned back to her.  “Elsa and little Alexander William Jones are doing perfectly, thank you for asking.  Anyways, I’ll see you on Friday…Swan.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

10 Months Ago…

After the disasters that were her relationships with Neal and Walsh, Emma had told herself that she didn’t need nor want someone to share her life with.  She was perfectly fine with her usual way of scratching the itch with a one nighter.

Emma refused to fall for his charm and pretty face and flirtatious nature.  No! She wouldn’t have a crush on him. It was only inviting trouble into her life.  He would realize how broken and messed up she was and he would realize she wasn’t worth the trouble.  Killian would leave her, just like everyone else in her life had.

The only problem was that her resolve was starting to break down.  With each and every day he came in to the library and tutored the kids and showed them how proud he was with their progress, the ice around her heart melted a little more.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eight Months Ago…

Emma watched as Killian sauntered over to chat with Rose (nicknamed Tink/Tinkerbell by the kids because she reminded them of the famous Disney pixie), one of the new librarians, over at the Children’s Desk.  Tink did everything right: smiled at him and laughed at different things he said.

Emma knew she was screwed when she saw Killian do the thing where he scratched behind his ear, just like he did before he asked her out.  She watched as Tink smiled at Killian and nodded, grabbing a paper from the desk and scribbling something down on it, then handing it over to him.  He did his shy smile and stuffed the paper in the pocket of his pants.

Killian turned to leave and waved at her as he walked out the front door.  After he’d left, Tink came bustling over with a giant smile on her face.

“Emma!  You wouldn’t believe it!”

“Uh, believe what?”

“Killian!  He asked me out on a date this weekend!”

“Oh…wow.  Congrats.”

“We’re going to that nice restaurant on the harbor.  I’m just so happy! I’ve had the biggest crush on him since I saw him in town.”

“I’m sure you two will have an awesome time and make beautiful babies.”

“Won’t we?”  

Tink went back to her department with an enthusiastic wave and Emma…well, she felt lonelier than ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Five Months Ago…

Three months.  She’d had to endure (what she sarcastically called) their lovey-dovey state.  He didn’t come over to talk to her at the Reference Desk that much anymore…and it killed her because she’d (reluctantly) become his friend since he’d started coming to tutor the kids at the library.

After being bugged and pushed and prodded by Belle and Ruby so much, Emma was willing to admit that she had a crush on Killian Jones…and that was it.

“It is not it Emma…”, said Belle, “…and you know it.”

“Yeah, if this isn’t more than a crush, then I’m a werewolf AND Little Red Riding Hood”, replied Ruby.

“If anything, you’re in love!” said Belle.

“Please.  I’m not in love with him.”

“Yes you are!” both women said and they began to sing.  “Emma and Killian sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love–”

“FINE.  Fine! I like him okay?” Emma whisper-yelled, looking towards the door of the library breakroom, making sure Tink wasn’t around.  Ruby and Belle both gave her a Look.

“You like him?” asked Ruby.

“Yes!  Yes I do!  I don’t love him…at least not yet, but I’m definitely on the road to falling, as cheesy as that may sound.  He makes it really hard not to like him and not to fall a little bit in love with him each day.”

“Aw, Emma!” exclaimed Belle.

“I mean, you’d have to be stupid not to like him.  The way he’s with the kids? So patient and loving and helpful and ugh!  I sound like some pathetic high school nerd who likes the jock and will never get him because he’s with the head cheerleader who’s more beautiful and not perfect and I need to shut up.”  She took a deep breath and kept talking, effectively cutting off Ruby who was about to speak. “And yeah, I am jealous.  Every time I see them together, it hurts a little more than the last time I saw them.  It kills me because the one I should be mad at is myself because it could’ve been me. He asked me out like, six months ago and I said it wasn’t a good idea and I just…”  Emma sighed and then stood up from the table. “Look. Just drop it, please?”

“Yeah, sure”, replied Ruby and Belle nodded from next to her.

“Thanks guys.”  Emma took her place at the desk for the rest of her shift, only making small talk with Tink when she wandered over later in the afternoon to wait for Killian.  Emma made sure to be in the restroom when he arrived, not sure she could look him in the face after her realization earlier.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three Months Ago…

Emma was walking back to the library after her lunch break one afternoon when she saw Killian and Tink talking right in front of the doors.  She decided to hang back until the finished their conversation and really did try not to listen.

“Why, after all this time?  You could’ve said no five months ago”, she heard Killian say and then a sigh from Tink.

“I was being selfish, Killian, I liked you so much.”  Tink paused to take a deep breath, “But I still knew how you felt and I thought that maybe, by being with me, I could make you forget it and get over it…and maybe I could be the one to make you smile and blush and happy in your life.”

“You do make me happy!” he cried.

“Then why do you still come here?”

“To see you.  It’s so that I can see you every day love.”  Killian was beginning to sound exasperated. “And it’s where I do my work with the children.”

“We can see each other every day at lunch”, replied Tink.  “And you can work with the kids at theirs or yours or even the school, you don’t have to keep coming here.  I know why you do, and it’s because of her .”

“Tink, please…”

“I should’ve realized you were in too deep with your feelings towards her, that’s my fault.”  Tink paused for a moment. “I’m not mad though…and I don’t harbor bad feelings towards either one of you, but you have to admit it.  Admit to me that you love her.”

Emma stood stock still around the corner, waiting on bated breath to hear Killian’s answer.  He did a deep sigh.

“I do, I love her.  But she doesn’t love me or like me like that even a bit, so why does it bloody well matter?”

“Because she does Killian, she’s just like you, too scared to admit things sometimes, too hurt by others to trust, but that’s okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

They were both quiet for a bit and Emma was on pins and needles, wondering who she’d be losing Killian to this time.

“Look, despite everything, I care about you Killian.  It’s just…this isn’t going to work. I’m letting you off the hook.  Know that I will always care about you and that I do love you, just not like that.  And who knows? Maybe one day long in the future, if things don’t work out and you’re ready to move on, give me a call and I may be available”, Tink said.

“I’m so sorry Tink”, said Killian.

“It’s okay.  I wish it would’ve worked though, but I can’t compete with Emma Swan.”

Emma’s eyes went wide.  She immediately turned and ran towards the small building her studio apartment was housed.  Once there, she texted Belle saying she wasn’t feeling well and would be out for a few days.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One month ago…

Emma was glad to be back in Storybrooke.  After a tense month, Emma decided she needed time away.  She’d spent the last month basically avoiding Killian by asking Belle to change up her schedule so that she wouldn’t be there when he would be doing tutoring.  Emma also tried to make an effort to be nicer to Tink and tried her hardest to not let on that she’d heard the entire conversation between Tink and Killian.

Despite that, Emma still just needed time.  She needed time to think and clear her head and decide what to do.  Should she tell Killian she liked him? ( Oh my God, I sound like a teenager!  I am a God damn adult! I need to grow up! )   Should she just pick up and find work in another small town and move away?  No, because however much she wanted it, she needed to actually be the adult she claimed to be. And Emma wouldn’t be that adult if she ran away from her problems…again.

She had some of her savings to spend two weeks on a cruise that went around Italy and Greece, somewhere she’d always wanted to go but never thought she’d be able to.  No one really knew where she was exactly or what she was up to, just Belle and Emma made her swear on the library that she wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

While on the trip, as she sat on a beach in Mykonos, Emma came to a conclusion: she was in love with Killian Jones.  It wasn’t because he was gorgeous as all get out and had an accent to die for (Emma wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t that vain), it was because he was a good man, a kind-hearted man who took time out of his day to tutor children in one of the most important things they could ever learn, because if they couldn’t read or understand what they read, they wouldn’t be able to learn anything else.  Emma also found out that not only did he take the time to tutor the kids, but that he did it for free (thanks for not being able to keep secrets Mary Margaret!).

Emma was just a bit nervous on her first day back.  Belle had told her that Killian was upset when he didn’t see her for a few days and Belle explained that her hours had changed, but wouldn’t tell him what they changed to.  But when Killian discovered no one had seen her for days on end, and Belle refused to tell him anything, he became anxious and very concerned. He would come into the library every day and nag Belle into telling him something, anything , about Emma’s whereabouts.

She was shelving some books with her back to the desk when she heard the squeak of the hinges of the library door and realized it was probably Killian arriving for his tutoring session with Alexandra Boyd.  Sure enough, a few seconds later, he was standing at the desk waiting for someone to help him.

“Hi Killian.”

“Swan?”

“How are you?”  Killian surprised her when he scoffed indignantly.

“ ‘How are you?’ ” he spat.  “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?  I’m trying to be nice.”

“It’s been two months Emma!”  Belle stuck her head out from around the corner near the Circulation Desk.

“Um, Killian, would you mind keeping it down?  We are in a library.”

“Stay out of this!  You helped her lie!” he whisper-yelled.  Belle just rolled her eyes and held her hands up in surrender, backing away and back to her spot at the front.  

“Don’t you dare take this out on her!  Your problems are with me!”

“That’s the point Swan, I have no problems with you!  I’ve been worried is all!”

“I don’t need you to worry about me.  I was on my own as a kid, then I was on my own after Ingrid died.”  Emma folded her arms and took a deep breath, “Besides, don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?”  Killian pursed his lips into a thin line and he looked at the floor.

“We broke up.  Tink and I broke up a couple months ago.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to see other people.”  Even if she hadn’t heard the conversation between the couple, granting her knowledge of the truth, Emma would know he was lying.

“Ha.  Now who’s the one who’s lying?”

“I’m no–”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret: I can tell when people are lying to me.  I always have. That’s why my work before I came here was as a bounty hunter. So let me ask you again: Why did you two break up?”

“I’ve already bloody said why.”

“Then I guess…we’re done here.”  Emma turned to leave and go to the back, but Killian tried to go after her.

“Swan…”

“I’ll see you around Mr. Jones.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Now…

He stopped tutoring the kids at the library on the days she was there, just like she’d done those months ago.  The first few times, Emma thought it was because he just needed a couple days to cool down. After a week, she knew why he wasn’t there: he was avoiding her…or he was done with her.  Her insecure self, deep down, was telling her that that was why he wasn’t coming to the library when she was there anymore.  Emma wanted to find him, to apologize for avoiding him, and to tell him the truth about how she felt.

Emma was lost in thought when she was accosted by a little body.

“Miss Emma!”  Roland squeezed her around the waist.

“Hey kid, how’s it going?” she asked.

“Pretty awesome!”  Roland let her go and took a seat next to her at the desk.  “Uncle Killy says I read perfect for my age now!”

“That’s awesome!”  Emma’s heart was in her throat at the mention of Killian.  “Hey, kid? Is um…is your Uncle Killy here?”

“Yup!  He’s up front talking to my Papa.”  Roland pointed towards the front circulation desk where it looked like Robin and Killian were having a quiet argument.  “Hi Papa! Hi Uncle Killy!”

The men looked over at Roland and she saw Killian’s eyes widen when he saw her.  He turned back to Robin and they just lightly glared at each other until Robin smacked him on the arm and said,

“ Go .”

“Fine.”  Killian came over to the desk and spoke to Roland first, “Your papa needs you lad.”

“Okay!  Bye Miss Emma!  Bye Uncle Killy!”

Killian and Emma watched as Roland went back to his father and they both waved as they left.  After they were left alone, before Emma could say anything, Killian turned back to face her.

“Why were you avoiding me?”

He looked at her with a pleading look and just pure love in his eyes.

“You’re the one that stopped coming here.”  Killian looked away and scratched behind his ear.

“I’m sorry Swan.  I did so because I didn’t think you wanted to see, since I was lying to you and refusing to admit the truth to myself.”

“What truth?” Emma asked with anticipation.

“I will tell you, but you have to answer my question first: Why did you avoid me all those months ago?”

Emma looked away and wrung her hands together; it was going to be now or never.   Time to nut up or shut up Emma, you need to tell him.  She took a deep breath and looked back at Killian.

“Because…because I think I fell in love with you, okay?   That’s why I avoided you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time later…

“So that’s how you fell in love?” she asked.

“Yes my Cygnet”, Killian replied with a wide smile.  “Your mum made me work hard for it. I got scared and spent time with Auntie Tink…”

“But she’s married to Uncle Jeff!”

“I know darling, but this was before she met Uncle Jeff.  Your mum and I were both scared but in the end, like I’ve been telling you this whole time, we found the strength to come back to each other.”

“I’m glad or I wouldn’t be here, right Papa?”

“You’re very right, Miss Meara Jones.”  Killian pulled his little girl into a big hug.  There was nothing greater than one of Meara’s hugs.  After a little while, they were interrupted by a small cough by Dr. Whale.”

“Mr. Jones, Miss Jones?  She’s ready to see you.”

“Thanks Victor!”  Meara hopped off of Killian’s lap and hugged Victor’s legs, who squatted down to her level when she let him go.

“You have to promise me one thing though, Princess.”

“Anything!”

“You have to be a little quiet because your mommy is going to be tired and you don’t want to wake anyone, okay?  You promise?”

“Yes sir!”  Victor high fived Meara and she tiptoed down the hallway, followed by Victor and Killian.

“Thanks mate.”

“No problem man, after all, she introduced me to my wife.”

The two men shook hands and parted, Victor going off to check on his other patients and Killian followed his daughter into his wife’s hospital room.  He took Meara’s hand and they went up to the bed where Emma sat speaking quietly to the bundle in her arms.

“Hi mummy!” whispered Meara.  “Can I sit with you?”

“Of course.  Killian, would you?”  Killian smiled and lifted their four year old up onto the hospital bed.

“Meara, we’d like you to meet your little brother: Wesley Oliver Jones.”

[ashtonkutchermustdie]

Top 10 Best & Top 5 Worst Films of 2018

1. You Were Never Really Here https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5742374/?ref_=nv_sr_1

An arty revenge film starring one of the worlds best actors as a troubled, stoic man for hire? I was always going to love this. Joaquin Phoenix has never been better. Check it out as soon as you can.

2. Journeyman https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5314118/?ref_=nv_sr_1

I knew nothing about this film going in, other than that it was Paddy Considine’s follow up to Tyrannosaur and that he plays an aging boxer. The rest was a complete surprise. And a very affecting and gut-wrenching surprise at that. Jodie Whittaker as Paddy’s dedicated wife deserves all the awards available for her powerhouse performance.

3. Beast https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5628302/?ref_=nv_sr_5

A naive young girl strikes up an illicit relationship with a local bad boy at the same time as there are a string of disappearances and murders on their small island. Is her new beau involved? Can she ever be sure? A fantastic British psychological drama that steadily ratchets up tension and keeps you guessing until the end.

4. Red Sparrow https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2873282/?ref_=nv_sr_2

Jennifer Lawrence stars as a ballerina recruited by Russian Intelligence during the height of the Cold War. Red Sparrow is a classic thriller, in the sense that it has no CGI, no explosions, no car chases. It’s a proper adult film for grown ups. And in the current environment, that’s something to be applauded. Joel Edgerton, Matthias Schoenaerts and Jeremy Irons round off a quality cast.

5. Phantom Thread https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5776858/?ref_=nv_sr_1

Apparently Daniel Day-Lewis’s final film. And what an appropriate and elegantly crafted swan song. A wonderful comment on obsession, love, relationships and power. Both Day-Lewis’s and director P.T. Anderson’s best since There Will Be Blood over ten years ago.

6. I, Tonya https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5580036/?ref_=nv_sr_1

I was hesitant about I, Tonya as I wasn’t aware of the true story that underpins it and I have no interest in competitive ice skating or any of the cast particularly. However, the movie is put together in such a quirky and entertaining way, driven by a couple of thunderous performances by Margot Robbie and Allison Janey that I knew as soon as I’d finished it that it would have a place on my top ten of the year.

7. Calibre https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6218358/?ref_=nv_sr_1

A hunting trip goes very, very wrong for two twentysomethings in this neat little British thriller. Tense and relentless from the word go. Bringing to mind another underrated classic, Eden Lake. To say anymore would be to spoil it. It’s on Netflix, go watch.

8. The Guilty https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6742252/?ref_=nv_sr_1

Danish film that’s practically a one man show that takes place in only one location – an emergency services call centre, where a man tries to help a kidnapped woman on the other end of the line. A wonderful script, editing and direction keep you glued to the edge of your seat as the story unfolds while we have only our protagonists expressions and reactions to look at. Masterful filmmaking.

9. Searching https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7668870/?ref_=nv_sr_1

The whole film takes place through a computer screen as a father searches his missing daughters laptop for clues to her disappearance. Searching isn't the first film to use this device but it is one of the best. Just as you think you have a handle on what’s happened the film takes another twist. Gripping.

10. Upgrade https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6499752/?ref_=nv_sr_1

A very silly but highly enjoyable B-movie from the co-director of Saw. Following a brutal mugging that leaves him paralysed and his wife dead, Logan Marshall Green is implanted with a microchip that gives him extra special abilities and allows him to track down and exact revenge on the people responsible. A lot better than anyone could expect it to be and well worth your time.

Special mentions: The House That Jack Built, The Favourite, Mandy, Bird Box, Unsane.

And now, on to the stinkers...

1. Annihilation https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2798920/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

In 2014 Alex Garland wrote and directed one of my favourite films of that year, Ex Machina. Annihilation is his follow up to that film. I watched this hating every minute, entertained only by the fact that every time I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it kept getting worse. Everybody involved should be very embarrassed.

2. Between Worlds https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7295450/?ref_=nv_sr_1

Being a Nicolas Cage fan means hat I have sat through some pretty terrible films. But even the worst of them were bearable because of Cage’s crazy charisma and dedication to giving an entertaining performance. However, even I can’t defend Between Worlds.

3. Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4881806/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

Jurassic Park is my favourite film of all time. Every sequel since has brought with it diminishing returns. Fallen Kingdom is by a very long way the worst of the lot. I know that the series is about dinosaurs being brought back to life by ‘science’, but even for a series that has that as it’s central premise, this is the dumbest, most ridiculous and frustrating of them all.

4. Avengers: Infinity War https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4154756/?ref_=nv_sr_2

Now, I’ve seen all of the films so far in the MCU. I really like some, most I think are way overrated. But what Infinity War is, is two and a half hours of CGI, explosions and very lazy performances. Most frustratingly, however, is that none of the events that take place hold any weight whatsoever as we can safely assume that everything will be right back on track in the next few films. Rendering Infinity War a complete waste of time.

5. Revenge https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6738136/?ref_=nv_sr_1

Supposedly a pro-feminist revenge film written and directed by a woman. However, what it really is, is one of the most trashy, hateful, offensive, misanthropic pieces of crap I’ve had the misfortune of seeing. Overstylised to the the point of nausea. Men, women, feminists; avoid.

[shiisiln]

Twilight Re-read: Chapter 1

Suddenly those books I liked back in 2010 are popular so I might as well re-read them for the first time in like 8 years in a desperate bid for notes and attention!

~

what do you MEAN we don’t have them in the house anymore

do I have to check them out of the library like some sort of ANIMAL

(donate to your local library kids)

oh thank god I can just download it

"I was wearing my favorite shirt- sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka."

As an Arizona native I’m pretty sure what she’s referring to is like, a light fall sweater.

Bella, sweetheart, I hope you never have to live anywhere that actually sees snow during the winter

~

"It was from this town and it's gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old."

jesus christ Charlie had to deal with his wife and only child leaving only months  after she was born?!

#teamcharliedeservedbetter

~

"How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still..."

I think when I was 12, Renee was endearing, now she’s... kind of horrifying?

I imagine her as a more well-intentioned version of Eleanor’s mom from The Good Place. No wonder Bella has some of the issues she has...

~

""It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me."

I wish more people had called her Bells? That's honestly a really cute nickname.

~

""I don't mind, I want you to be happy here." He was looking straight ahead when he said this. Charlier wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded."

There is not enough appreciation in the world for Bella Swan, emotionally constipated disaster who takes too much after her father.

~

God all kinds of memories are resurfacing as I read through this. I think I tried to record an audiobook of this when I was a tween.

I also think I tried translating the first chapter into an alien cipher language I created.

...moving right along...

~

"There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed was my new- well, new to me- truck. It was a faded red color with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it."

OH LOOK, MY FAVORITE CHARACTER

Bella is a butch truck queer and you can pry that out of my cold dead hands.

~ "The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack."

Ahh yes, all the dinosaur computer tech.

... gawd, reading a book from 2005 and feeling like it's a relic from a bygone age makes me feel SO OLD.

~

"Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty seven- now fifty eight- students"

Bitch there weren't three hundred people in my ENTIRE HOMETOWN.

(Don't get into 'my hometown was so small and pathetic' battle with me, I will win. It was a huge event when they unveiled the first stop light in the middle of town.)

~

"It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in"

"Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain."

Wow, I WONDER why 12-year old closeted queer-ass me identified with characters like this so much.

IT’S A MYSTERY

~ "It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom."

*soft weeping*

~

"I donned my jacket- which had the feel of a biohazard suit- and headed out into the rain."

I like to think this overdramatic streak lasts all the way into immortality for her like

Bella: *puts on a light sweater*  I'M BEING ENTOMBED

Edward: it's one extra layer, dearest

Bella: CAN'T BREATHE! THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN!

Alice: Bella you don't NEED to breathe

~

"The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out."

*Muffled Paramore playing in the distance*

Also I know as little about cars as Stephenie Meyer, so forgive me for absolutely everything I say about them in the future.

The only thing I know is that the word Volvo always makes me giggle in a very immature way.

~

"When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and a hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me."

"One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. (...) I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up."

Oof da, I forgot how much 'Not Like Other Girls' syndrome Bella has when it comes to the other teenage characters. Like, this shit even bothered me as a dumb tween.

~

"It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them."

*BASS BOOSTED PARAMORE PLAYING FROM BEHIND A LOCKED DOOR*

~

"The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction."

MY GIRL! <3 <3 <3

~

"It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful- maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy."

Bisexual bella bisexual bella bisexual bella bi-

~

"I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind."

Don't worry, he's just hangry.

~

"For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency."

PAINFULLY RELATABLE.

~ "But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me- his face was absurdly handsome- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms."

*PARAMORE BLOWS OUT MY EARDRUMS AND I DIE INSTANTLY*

~

ok there we go, chapter one! An interesting trip through time into the psyche of an 11 year old girl who thought reading about vampires would make people like her (spoiler, it didn't work.

...

UNTIL NOW)

[wellhellotragic]

If Looks Could Kill 12/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.

Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down.

Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Emma was antsy, filled to the brim with nervous energy that she didn’t know what to do with. She tried going for a long run but it only served to increase her agitation.

She tried telling herself that she was just nervous because Killian was out of reach and under the protection of two agents that she barely knew. A small voice in her head kept reminding her that Killian was spending a romantic night under the stars with another blonde, but she pushed it back. That could not be the source of her worries. That would mean she had feelings, something she refused to think about.

She had already decided that making idle chit-chat with the other girls was out of the question. Luckily for both of them, Ruby was doing a far better job of blending in with the other women than Emma was. She had managed to form a tentative ‘friendship’ with Tamara somehow, for which Emma was grateful. It meant that she wouldn’t have to spend time with her pretending to be interested in law.

Emma found herself becoming even more agitated thinking about that. As an FBI agent, she knew that Tamara had never practiced law and that most of her legal knowledge had probably come from one of the hundreds of generic legal dramas on TV. As Emma Fowler though, she had to fake naivety on the subject.

Emma was still chomping at the bit so she headed outside to check in with Robin and Will in the RV. She needed to see for herself that Killian was safe, refusing to let her mind wander to thoughts of what Killian and the micro-blonde were doing.

Emma reached for the door to the RV just as a loud raucous came from inside. Robin and Will were highly entertained by whatever they were watching on the screens, but quickly silenced themselves as Emma stepped inside. She made for the opposite end of the RV, giving only a quick glance at the live feed.

Admittedly the campsite was gorgeous, with plush cushions laid out for seating and lights strung up through the trees. A plate full of fruit was laid out on a picnic table next to a miniature chocolate fountain, which Emma could only assume was being powered by a hidden generator.

What really caught Emma’s eye, though, was the sleeping area. It was a large, teepee-like structure made up of cream linens and adorned with silk drapings inside. Rustic candlelit lanterns were hanging from a log that ran the length of the tent, illuminating the space and making the inside appear warm and spacious. The crew had even gone through the trouble of laying down a wooden platform to block out the dirt and mud.

There was one only one cot, and while it wasn’t tiny, it would still make for close sleeping quarters. Emma’s stomach knotted at that thought.

Just as she was about to address Robin, she heard a small giggle come through the speakers. She looked up to see Killian squatting behind Tink, with his arms wrapped around her. Tink’s face was beet red as she leaned back into him and Killian, for his part, didn’t seem to mind being so close to her.

Emma needed something else to focus on. She sat at a screen in the back of the RV trying to remain out of hearing range from the feed. She refused to be curious about what the two of them were doing together.

The screen in front of her came to life and she muddled through files on the FBI’s hard drive. Almost an hour in, Emma had looked through a month’s worth of surveillance on Tamara prior to the show, with very little takeaway. It wasn’t until she got to the last three days of surveillance that she realized that many of photos featured the same man.

His back was always to the camera, but he wore the same green hooded coat each day and, while he never interacted with Tamara directly, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he was nearby so often.

“Guys, come here,” Emma called out.

Robin and Will trudged up, trying to crowd around computer in the cramped space.

“Do either of you know who this man is?” she asked.

“No,” started Robin.

Will chimed in. “Why? Who is he?”

“I’m not sure. He’s always close to her though.”

She clicked through multiple photographs pointing him out. Sometimes he was sitting at a table in the bar that Killian frequented, or he would be walking down the street on the opposite side of the road from Tamara. He was almost always there though. Emma made a notation in the file to further investigate the mystery man.

Emma continued to go through files as the boys returned to the video feed of Killian. She pulled up Tamara’s finance reports, taking stock of the fact that Tamara was continuing to receive income, but from an untraceable source.

“Look at ‘em go!” Her musings were interrupted by Will yelling at the screen in front of him, followed by a muffled thump. “Oi, what was that for?”

Emma glanced up to see Robin giving her an apologetic look. When she leaned back to peek at the monitor, she saw Tink straddling Killian on the cot. Every muscle in her body tensed. Images of Walsh and the red head began floating through her mind.

As she felt her eyes begin to sting, something inside her snapped. She was letting herself get too emotionally involved with Killian, and she needed to distance herself. A voice in her head screamed for her to flee but she was trapped. She needed this investigation to be over so she could go back to New York and leave all of this behind her. She needed to do what she did best. Run.

“Robin, I need one of those burner phones. Now.”

Killian’s face was beginning to hurt from the forced laughter and fake smiles. When the car pulled up to the campsite and everyone disembarked, Killian attempted to keep his distance from everyone, determined to make it through the evening with as little social interaction as possible.

Mary Margaret seemed to register his trepidation about the entire thing, for which he was grateful, but her husband had clearly missed the memo. David kept suggesting things for Killian and Tink to do together to increase the romance.

They had only been there for about twenty minutes before David took it upon himself to push the two single cots together and swap out the existing comforters with a single larger one. It was a move meant to force cuddling.

Killian was close to telling David what he really thought of the entire ordeal, ready to storm off and walk home alone through the woods. Mary Margaret beat him to it though.

“David!”

“What?” David asked. “I was given very specific instructions from our mutual boss to ensure that Killian and Tink here enjoyed their evening away.” David watched his wife stoically like he was attempting to will her into submission or, perhaps, understanding.

Clearly the network must have thought that Killian’s drug induced make out sessions with countless women wasn’t enough.

“David, now is not the time!” Mary Margaret’s words were stern. Even though they weren’t directed at him, Killian couldn’t help but feel like he was back in school being chastised by one of his primary teachers.

Tink, oblivious to the tension around her, suggested that it was getting late and a fire would add some lovely ambiance to their date.

Killian agreed and grabbed some logs that had been stacked near the sleeping area. He saw Mary Margaret and David bickering about twenty yards away but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

He walked back to the fire pit where Tink was waiting for him, placing the logs in the center. As he moved to grab a small container of lighter fluid from it’s hidden spot nearby, Tink’s hand shot out to his, stopping him with a coy smile.

“We’re camping, Killian. You have to get the full experience, which means we’re going to do this the old fashioned way.”

He watched as she scavenged for branches, throwing a stout stick on top of the growing pile of smaller twigs that would be used as kindling. Satisfied with her haul, she asked him to help her stuff the kindling underneath the logs and began using one of the knives that had been laid out on the picnic table earlier to carve a groove into the top log. She then whittled the larger stick she had picked up into a dull point.

Mary Margaret and David had apparently finished their squabbling and had begun filming again, standing back to watch with curious expressions on their faces. David looked to the lighter fluid and matches that he had strategically placed earlier that day.

Killian shrugged and rolled his eyes. “She said I needed the full camping experience.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. You two make quite the team.” David smiled.

Killian heard Mary Margaret let out a grunting sound in disapproval. She seemed feistier today than before and Killian couldn’t help but find it endearing, like she was somehow on his side.

“You know what would make this better?” David continued, “You should start the fire Ghost- style.”

“What?” Killian wasn’t sure what that meant but given how adamant David had been about trying to force Killian and Tink together, he assumed it was something sexual.

“The famous pottery scene? Here, I’ll show you.” Tink placed her back to his front, wrapping his arms around her as she forced them both into a squatting position.

Killian was uncomfortable with her proximity, especially as she tried grinding her lower body into his crotch.

“Killian, a moment?” Mary Margaret’s singsong voice called out to him.

He stood up quickly, almost letting Tink fall over as he did so. He followed David’s wife into the woods and out of eyesight of David and Tink.

“Look,” she started. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I’m not a fan of you being forced to do things you’re uncomfortable with either.”

She paused, waiting for a response. He simply nodded for her to continue.

“My husband and I have differing viewpoints on where we stand. It’s true; our boss gave us strict instructions to spark something between the two of you. David likes to follow orders but I’m a bit more sentimental.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I know that you have no interest in Miss Green. Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about tonight, so my suggestion is to suck it up and pretend to be having fun. It’ll help us get through filming faster, which means you’ll be able to escape her sooner. You can move the cots back after we wrap filming tonight and we’ll move them back in the morning to continue filming.”

Killian had to admit that she was right. The more he fought it, the more takes he would have to do.

After agreeing, the two of them returned to the campsite and Killian immediately went behind Tink and wrapped his arms around her again.

She smiled at him and brought them back into their lowered positions. Grabbing his hands, she showed him how to spin the stick back and forth in the groove she had carved. It didn’t take long to spark up a fire.

Keeping Mary Margaret’s words in mind, Killian decided to continue his efforts of platitude.

Leaning forward slightly he whispered in her ear. “My apologies, lass. I’ve been less than pleasant this evening, but I’ll attempt to maintain a more positive outlook from this point forward.”

She let out a small giggle and leaned back into him. He tried his hardest not to tense at the pressure of her body against his.

A few weeks ago he would have relished at her touch. He would have been three sheets to the wind, and she would have already been lying on that damn cot ready for him to take her.

The last two weeks had changed him though. Sobriety had certainly curved his libido, but he was fairly certain that a certain blonde had been a major factor in that at well. It was hard for him to admit that he was perhaps coming to develop feelings for her. Part of him felt like it was a huge betrayal to Milah; his heart and brain were waging a war.

The night managed to fly by once he stopped fighting David’s directions. He and Tink had laid out on the large pillows, taking in the food supplied by the show. He hadn’t been a fan of being fed chocolate covered fruit, or maybe he just hadn’t been a fan of the girl feeding it to him.

They had looked up at the canopy of treetops while Tink pointed out all of the different types of trees around them. As she talked, Killian found his thoughts drifting off to other things, like the view of the night sky from the docks, and that Regina had better come through on the favor she owed him.

He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he felt himself being roused awake by David.

“Sorry, mate, but I need to get one final shot for the night.”

Killian and Tink stood and followed him over to the sleeping area. It was the part Killian had dreaded most, knowing that David was going to force him into something intimate.

David gave his instructions and Tink was all too eager to follow them. She pushed him backwards so that he landed face up on the bed. She quickly jumped up on the cot and straddled him, leaning over to crush her face against his. It was a painfully awkward experience. Her mouth hit his so hard that he was certain she’d given him a busted lip.

Tink pulled back from him and started to unbutton her shirt.

“Whoa, whoa,” Killian tried to stop her.

“Stop!” cried out Mary Margaret.

Tink looked back and forth between them both in confusion.

“David, I think you have all of the footage you need for the night. Now help me pull the beds back apart.” Mary Margaret stormed off to grab the other blankets from the van.

“Sorry about that,” David mumbled to Killian. “My wife seems to be team Emma for some reason.”

Killian raised his eyebrow. “You don’t agree with her?” Given how clinical the production team had been in setting up the events thus far, he was surprised to hear that the crew actually gave a damn about who he ended up with. He couldn’t begin to fathom why, though.

David huffed. “Look, it’s not that I’m anti-Emma. I’ve just seen her file, and her interviews. She’s a mess. You have so many better options than her.”

Killian was floored. Hearing David criticize Emma made him feel as if the wind had been knocked out of him. What could David have possibly seen in her file to make him dislike her so much?

He thought on it as he wrestled with sleep. His final thoughts as he fell into a slumber were that David was wrong. Killian understood that Emma had faced heartache and that that was hard for some people to understand. He would prove David wrong.

When the morning came, Killian was up with the first rays of sunlight. He shifted and felt a weight next to him. He looked over to find Tink huddled up on the edge of his cot. She had snuck in during the middle of the night, which Killian found disturbing.

Taking leave of his sleeping quarters, he made his way over to the food service that the crew had laid out in hope of finding coffee. Mary Margaret was in the process of brewing a pot, while everyone else seemed to still be asleep.

They made idle chitchat about the weather and briefly covered the remaining schedule for the day. When the others finally woke, they filmed one last scene of Killian and Tink waking up together- fully clothed, by Killian’s demands.

Everyone loaded up in the van and town car and they drove in near silence back to the mansion. Tink thanked Killian for a wonderful evening before planting a kiss on his cheek and running into the house. David took his leave to help the crew members unload some of the equipment from the van. Not all of it was needed, since they were heading back out later that day.

Mary Margaret walked with Killian back to his cottage, giving him more specifics on the evening ahead of them. As she turned to go back to the main house to check on the girls, he stopped her.

“Hey,” he stammered as he tugged on his ear. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything.”

She beamed back at him, saying it was nothing.

She started walking away and he called out to her one last time.

“Oh, and Mary Margaret? I’m team Emma too.”

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

Don’t Buy Me No Flowers -Chapter 3

A chance meeting over a crushed bouquet of roses is enough to convince Killian Jones that Emma Swan is the woman for him.

Florist AU

FF.NET / AO3

Henry Mills knew he was a smart kid. Besides being told just that by pretty much every grown up he knew, he also was a lot more self aware than your average eleven year old. Indeed, he looked at other kids his age whose only concerns were computer games and who made the soft ball team and just knew he was different. That isn’t to say he wasn’t interested in the same things they were - he had a lego collection to rival any elementary schooler. But he had passed the age when he was solely wrapped up in himself and instead his awareness of the world, and those around him, was starting to colour his attitudes and behaviour.

He liked to watch other people - kids and adults -figuring out as best he could what was going on in their heads. What motivated them. In that was he was a thinker, an observer, but also a man of action. After all, how many eleven year olds could have not only located their birth mom but then successfully got to their apartment - in another state- with just a pilfered credit card? He was actually even pretty sure his adoptive mom had been somewhat impressed by that, despite the fact she had yelled at him for a good half hour when he finally returned with Emma in tow.

Currently the one person who had taken up a lot of his thinking time was his mom - his birth mom that is. It had only been a few months since she had made the move to be closer to him. Having her around just felt right, like all the time before he had found her, there had been this nagging feeling that he was missing something and now everything just felt… complete. He knew she was happy too. Sometimes he caught her looking at him, when she didn’t think he noticed, with a contented smile on her face.

But, still, there was something missing. He knew she had had a difficult life, she’d told him enough for him to work that out (he was smart, after all). Yet there was something more, loneliness he decided it was. Even though she had him now, she had been by herself for a long time. She reminded him of his other mom and how she had acted before she had found her fiance, Robin. Prickly and defensive. Since she had started dating the local park warden, she had been so much more relaxed. He knew she would deny it but Robin had somehow completed her.

Henry being a problem solver, decided that if he could do something about his other mom’s singleness that would make her happier. It worked for Regina, it should work for her too? He just had to find a suitable guy and Storybrooke wasn’t exactly full of eligible men of the right age. He’d been looking and so far all his efforts had proven that every guy was either way too old, way too young or way too married.

So it was quite unexpected when the opportunity to do something about his mom’s predicament literally walked into him.

Sat upon the mayoral desk, legs dangling, Henry jabbed at his phone, sighing as he saw the time. His mom had promised to take him to the park after her meeting but it seemed to be taking forever. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he decided to take a walk to the vending machine in the lobby area of the town hall. His mom never kept anything other than fruit in her office and right now, he needed candy. He reached for the handle of the etched glass door, just as it swung open, almost slamming him in the face.

“Hey!” he cried, jumping back as an extravagant arrangement of flowers descended upon him.

“Oh!” The large floral display dipped to one side and a smiling face looked down at him. “Sorry lad, didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” Henry replied, folding his arms as he assessed the stranger before him. The stranger matched his look, drawing back on his heels as he registered the strangeness of a elementary school kid hanging out in the mayor’s office.

“And you are?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Henry. Henry Mills.”

“As in Mayor Mills?”

“I’m her son,” Henry quipped. “And you are? Other than a florist.”

“Trainee florist, lad. And it’s Killian Jones.”

Killian shifted the bouquet into one arm so he could reach out his right hand. Henry accepted his handshake, it was warm and firm.

“Hmmm.” He gave the trainee florist a cursory look. “And you’re … British?” he asked, an idea just beginning to form in his mind.

“Quite perceptive for a child, aren’t you?” Killian teased as he walked forward and placed the arrangement upon the austere black desk which dominated the room and set the tone for the monochrome, modernist style that Henry’s adoptive mother loved so much. His back to Henry as he primped and rearrange the blooms, he was unaware of the boy’s critical gaze.

Henry was sure he was about the same age as Emma and he was also pretty sure Killian was what she would think was attractive ( and he had an accent - wasn’t that what girls liked? ).

Finally, Killian turned back to face him, a grin brightening up his face. “Listen, I’ve got to be getting back to the shop…”

Shaken from his thoughts, Henry matched Killian's smile, “Cool - great, I mean.”

Killian gave him an odd look, one eyebrow raising.

“Nice to meet you,” Henry added, interlacing his fingers behind his back and trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Aye,” the man nodded as he edged towards the door. “You too lad.”

As the door shut, Henry sighed happily. He knew just how to put a smile on his mom’s face.

He really had the best ideas!

/

Whoever had heard of Teachers Day? Mothers Day, yes. Even Grandparents Day was a thing. Emma had even indulged in National Cheeseburger Day, but this one was new.

Her son had texted her the night before insisting that he needed a bouquet of flowers for his homeroom teacher and that she had to help him choose. (Which she took as meaning he didn’t want to spend his allowance on those flowers.)

She’d waited for him at the bus stop as usual, expecting he’d want to pick out one of the little posies that they sold in the grocery store for such occasions, but no.

“Mom, everyone will have the same ones! Miss Blanchard is special and she deserves real flowers!”

She’d learned quite quickly that arguing with Henry was a tricky proposition. The kid had a comeback for everything. And truthfully, she couldn’t disagree with him right now. His teacher was pretty amazing if the enthusiasm Henry had for his studies was any indication.

“Fine,” she’d sighed, letting him take her hand and drag him down Main Street towards… Frozen Blooms.

A sudden tightness in her chest was accompanied by a breathless sensation that she struggled to place for a moment.

Killian.

Oh God, she thought, quickly assessing her crumpled shirt and unbrushed hair. She hadn’t been counting on seeing him, well, ever. She’d given her number to him a week ago and he hadn’t called. So she’d assumed…

Damn.

Here she was, walking into his place of work again, how would that look? Hell, she could only hope he wasn’t working. She could pray he had the day or the afternoon off. She wasn’t great with rejection, even in the ambiguous circumstances of a number given upon a paper napkin after the strangest non-date lunch date. Her mind was full of these thoughts, Henry walking in step beside her… when suddenly, Henry broke into a run, his backpack bouncing round as he raced with unexpected speed towards the store. It took Emma a moment to react, muttering a soft ‘urgh’ before she raced after her son.

 /

By mid afternoon Elsa had already left for the day. She’d been gradually reducing her hours and with only four weeks left until she gave birth Killian was thankful that she was finally taking the time to rest. He also saw it as confirmation that she trusted him with her business, which gave him an unexpected feeling of pride. He was spending the afternoon going through the accounts for the month ahead, getting a feel for the responsibilities he would be taking on while Elsa took her maternity leave.

When the door to the store sprang open, the bell clattering loudly, Killian quickly raised his head. He opened his mouth to speak but the kid in the doorway beat him to it.

“Killian!” the boy smiled, stomping into the store, straight towards the countertop where Killian was reviewing the next day’s bookings.

“Hello… lad,” Killian replied, his surprise barely masked. After a moment’s pause he added, “Henry, isn’t it?”

“”Yeah, Henry,” the boy replied, staring up at the Killian with his arms folded on the countertop. Being not a great deal taller than said countertop, it was a somewhat amusing sight. A few seconds passed where the boy grinned and Killian stared, a little bit lost for words. It wasn’t often that they got pre-teen customers, Frozen Blooms being securely in the mid to high range price category.

Finally, the boy spoke. “My mom’s on her way,” he explained, hitching his thumb at the door behind him.

Killian tipped his head to the side. The mayor didn’t ever visit the store. Her orders were placed by phone. By her assistant.

“Your- um, okay…”

The words had barely left his mouth when the door rang again - this time a little more gently.

And if he’d thought the boy’s appearance had confused him, the woman who now entered had an altogether different effect.

“Emma?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“Mom!”

Before he had a chance to speak further, the boy was running over to the door and dragging Emma Swan towards him. Emma Swan whom he had not seen for a week and was beginning to think would never see again.

It took a moment for him to collect his thoughts. Then, he addressed the boy.

“Wait. I thought you said that the mayor was your mum.”

With a roll of his eyes, Henry gave Killian a pointed look. “She is. My adoptive mom. Emma is my birth mom.”

For her part, Emma was barely less composed than Killian after her dash along Main Street. If she had thought she was prepared to see Killian, she was wrong. She’d wanted to play this all cool, like she wasn’t affected by him and his handsomeness and his Britishness and his… his Killian-ness . Instead, after only seconds in his presence, she felt flushed and anxious and like this was one huge mistake that her pride was going to take a while to recover from.

Killian met her eyes and she gave him a wary look, a wave of heat rising over her, before she pursed her lips and turned to her son. “Kid, he doesn’t need your life story,” she warned.

Killian cleared his throat. “Actually I think it’s pretty cool. You’re a lucky lad getting two mums.”

Henry shrugged, with the easy innocent nonchalance of a child. “I know. Hey, can I go look at the flowers? Maybe you could talk to my mom while I browse?” His brows raised at that and Killian got the impression that flowers were not the only thing on the boy’s mind that afternoon.

“Go ahead.” Killian gestured to the displays. Henry quickly slipped off his backpack which Emma deftly grabbed before it fell to the floor and then he wandered off among the buckets of blooms.

Emma waited until he was out of earshot. She quickly licked her lips and shifted Henry’s bag onto her shoulder. “Sorry he’s - he can be hard work.”

Killian was looking over her shoulder, watching Henry smell the blooms, lifting them gently to his nose, running the petals between his finger and thumb. “I think he’s delightful. We met yesterday when I was delivering flowers to the town hall. Hence the confusion.”

“Ahh,” she sighed, relaxing her hip against the counter as Killian fixed his full attention back towards her. “I see.”

So her son had met Killian and suddenly developed an urgent desire to purchase flowers. Go figure. She’d never really thought of Henry as a matchmaker, but he always had a scheme or ‘operation’ as he liked to call them in the works. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he was trying to fix her up. After all his adoptive mother was happily in a relationship with a step child to boot. Kids always seemed to see things simply. Maybe he thought that the secret to making her settled in Storybrooke was to match her up with some guy.

And he had chosen this guy. Go figure.

For a minute or so, the pair watched the boy, fully engrossed in his interrogation of the flowers. The silence was not uncomfortable. Emma shoved her hands in her back pockets and began to imagine this interaction might be over as painlessly and easily as a swift purchase could make it.

But then she hear the silky burr of his voice, just low enough for her to hear him.

“I’m actually really glad you came in.”

She slowly pivoted on her heel, lifting her chin and feigning nonchalance. His cheeks were tellingly reddened and she relaxed, just a little. She was pleased to see he was at least a little flustered by the situation.

“Oh?’ she asked.

He smiled softly. “I’m embarrassed to say that your telephone number met with a wet end in the washing machine.”

“Huh?”

“I put it in my pocket - for safekeeping -��  He blushed even deeper, crimson red and, god damn, she liked him.

It was now or never. Brush it off. Laugh. Play the fool. Or- seize the moment. Give him another chance.

Her heart really couldn’t take being hurt, but still…

“Give me your phone,” she ordered, stretching her hand across the counter.

He raised a brow but complied, pulling his mobile phone from his back pocket and slipping it into her hand, their fingers brushing with a tingle of electricity. Biting her lip, she typed in her number.

“No excuses this time.”

She handed him the phone back as Henry rushed up with a handful of pink blooms. Perfect timing to avoid an awkward moment.

“Mom I want these.”

Killian’s attention, which had been transfixed upon Emma, immediately switched to the boy. He placed a warm expression upon his face and took the flowers from his hand.

“Peonies. Good choice lad. Shall I wrap them for you?”

Henry nodded. “And pink ribbon too. Miss Blanchard loves pink.”

Emma ruffled her son’s hair as Killian turned away to the workspace behind him. Henry wore a happy smile on his face and he folded his arms as he watched Killian curl the ribbon.

“What?” Emma asked, now in almost no doubt of her son’s intentions.

“Nothing,” he grinned sweetly in reply.

Yeah right, Emma thought. But strangely for her, she left it at that.

/

It was almost ten by the time Emma got to the dishes she had Henry had created. He’d decided today he wanted to cook rather than go to Granny’s, so they’d spent the afternoon making tacos and then settled in to watch a movie before she had to take him home.

She was already looking for a place with a second bedroom so he could stay more. The times he did sleep over, she used the couch pullout but she knew he was getting older and needed his own room.

The last suds were draining away when her phone chirped. She wiped her hands and picked it up.

-Hey. It’s Killian.

Her heart rate picked up a little. A flutter in her chest that she quickly metered. She moistened her lips and walked to the couch, tucking her legs under herself as she composed her reply.

-Hey Lieutenant. I see you did not lose my number this time.

She smiled as she tapped send.

-Once is a mistake. Twice would have just been careless.

Emma felt the dimples press into her cheeks as she read his reply.

-That’s very true

There was a minute or so’s pause, where the little dots indicating he was typing teased her.

-How’s Henry?

-Back at his other mom’s. He only stays with me on weekends. Better for school.

-That makes sense.

She was mentally deciding what to say in reply when he texted again.

-Are you busy then?

Her heart rate skipped up once more. A rose flutter in her chest. She bit her lip, tentative fingers composing a reply.

-Not really

Barely a few seconds later-

-How about a coffee at Granny’s? Much easier to chat in person, no?

Despite all her reservations, it was easy to make the decision.

-Give me ten minutes.

/

Killian played with his napkin as he waited. He’d been in his car heading to the diner mere moments after her reply. In fact, he had been itching to see her again since that afternoon. As soon as she had left the store he’d found himself unable to think of much else. Emma Swan. Emma Swan…

Had he ever been so taken by someone? Certainly not for a very long time.

Preoccupied, it was with surprise that he noticed Emma had arrived and was sliding into the booth across from him. She gave him a tentative smile as she shrugged out of her jacket. “So do you often frequent the diner late at night? Or are you making a special exception for me?”

There was teasing in her words, so the option was there to make light of her comment with his reply. But instead he found honesty falling from his lips. “Sometimes. I live with my brother and sister in law. Occasionally I just need some space, as wonderful as they are.”

For a moment, she studied him, as if soaking in the full meaning of his words. “That makes sense,” she finally said before quickly giving her order to the cheerful waitress who had stopped by the booth. “I actually grew up in foster care and had to share a room far more often than I ever had my own.”

“That must have been difficult,” he replied sincerely.

She shrugged as the waitress brought over a cup of strong black coffee. “I always appreciate privacy now for sure. But you know, whatever your reality is, especially as a kid, you deal with it. It was my normal.”

She focused on stirring in her creamer and sugar as she digested what she had just said. It wasn’t often that she talked about her childhood. Especially to someone she barely knew. The effect he had of making her feel comfortable sharing such things was a little unnerving. She shook off that thought and took a sip.

There was a moment of silence, companionable not awkward. Killian didn’t feel the need to say anything as she relaxed against the red leather of the booth, her hands clutched possessively around her mug. He appreciated the piece of herself she had just revealed to him. He had been right, she was an enigma whose layers he was eager to start peeling away.

That thought startled him back into the moment and a question he had had since that afternoon.

“Henry… you and the Mayor. How does that work?”

Emma smiled at the mention of her son’s name. “It’s complicated. I won’t lie. I was young when he was born.”

“His father?”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t on the scene. I decided that he would be better off being adopted into a family who knew how to raise a kid. I didn’t think I could be a mom.”

A frown line formed between her brows. He resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it away with his thumb.

He sighed softly instead. “You wanted to give him his best chance.”

She stared at him. That was it. Exactly it. Something in her heart softened, a part of her that she hadn’t realized she had let harden. No one had ever understood so easily.

“So, you tracked him down?”

She laughed softly. “Other way ‘round. He found me. And then I knew I couldn’t let him go again.”

Killian let out a soft breath. He was transfixed by the warm look that came over her face as she talked about the boy.

“That’s an amazing tale.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. He’s a pretty amazing kid.”

The waitress came by and topped off their drinks. They both smiled in thanks.

“So, how are you ?” he asked, raising a sympathetic brow, hoping she understood his meaning. He didn’t want to mention the name of that fool again.

Looking up, Emma met his eyes. “I’m fine. The anger has faded and now I’m just concentrating on avoiding him until he gets the message. At least he never met Henry.”

“Oh?”

She gave him a pointed look, “I may be new to this parenting thing but I know I don’t want him to meet anyone I’m involved with until I know it’s going somewhere.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

Running her hand over an invisible mark on the table, she mused for a moment on just how easy this was. Talking like that had known each other forever. She decided to delve deeper.

“What about you - any kids?”

He shook his head. “No. Came close once, but that was a long time ago. She was older. Still married, if I’m honest. We were at different places in our lives.”

Without judgement, she nodded. She got it. “It is all about timing. I wasn’t ready when Henry was born, but now I feel it. I mean, ready to take on the challenge. I’m just lucky he gave me the chance.”

“And he is lucky to have you.”

She detected no falsity in his words. No underlying deception or motive. Her protective walls flickered about her. She was always wary of new people. Especially men. But he seemed, well, good. She’d learned to be pretty good at reading people over the years and she wasn’t picking up any hidden agenda. She was so used to men disappointing her that she wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

In addition, she was cautious to the fact she had just left one less than successful romantic entanglement. She decided it would be best to steer the conversation into more neutral and friend-like territory.

They shared tales of their moves to Storybrooke- although he avoided explaining in detail why he had left the navy, she knew that was a story left better for another day. She told him a little more about her job and how she spent quite a lot of time on the road, but was reducing that now that Henry was back in her life. Quickly almost an hour slipped by.

Reluctantly she drained her cup and looked at her watch. “I’d better go, I need to be on the road to Portland by eight.”

She started to stand and he followed, both pulling on their coats.

“I’ll see you out.”

“My car’s around back,” she explained, and he nodded, leaving some bills on the table for their coffee and waving a hand to the waitress to say they were leaving. They walked in silence to the back door of the diner.

Although it was almost June, there was still a nip to the air. As they stepped into the alleyway, the chill wrapped around them and seemed to seep beneath the leather of her jacket. She paused as the door closed behind them and shivered involuntarily.

Killian stopped behind her, running his hands over her arms, the instant warmth deeply pleasant and accompanied by an altogether more exciting feeling, overcoming the initial start his touch had evoked.

“Thank you,” she whispered, turning back her head to meet his eyes, still startlingly blue even in the moonlight.

She let herself drink in the moment. The warmth of his hands on her, the feeling of his body behind.  There was a buzz in the air. The only sounds were the distant echo of Granny’s jukebox and the chirp of the crickets who had begun to wake from their hibernation.

“Emma-“ he began, her name catching on his lips, his voice silky and stroking a flame of something hot up her spine.

Her breath hitched.  She saw his eyes flicker to her lips. They were alone. It was dark.

Private.

She should be cautious, her mind was telling her to walk away, take things slow. But her heart and her gut were louder. They told her that this was right, that this was a moment and a connection she needed to pursue.

Her instincts took over, her hand reached up to the nape of his neck, drawing his mouth to hers as she twisted to face him.

Killian was momentarily struck dumb. The sensation of her lips against his, her hands clutching him close caught his breath as they headed unexpectedly into a rapidly dizzying kiss.

They fit perfectly . His head dipped just enough to meet hers, his hands moved from her arms and sunk into the curve of her waist, drawing her close until his thigh slid between her legs.

Her lips were warm and soft, they parted eagerly, deepening the kiss, pulling them both further into the moment, the world around them fading to empty blackness. She was all gentle curves and the scent of sweet soap and leather.

She pressed herself closer to him. Her breasts crushed against his chest and she cursed the twin layers of leather she wore. Her hands clutched the nape of his neck more tightly, one slipping into his hair, drawing languidly through the silky strands until he groaned softly, the sound sending a tightening to her gut. He wanted this as much as she did.

The chill was all forgotten. She was now burning. Her skin, her blood, her very essence. His kiss, his touch, had ignited something she had long locked away. A recklessness and a desire she had told herself was lost to her. But here it was, rising to the fore as his wicked lips tore her away from reality and made her believe in the possibility of something more. She rocked against his leg thigh between hers. It wasn’t enough to ease the ache inside of her. Desperate, she ran an eager hand over the strong line of his jaw, cupping his face, pouring all she couldn’t say with words into the embrace.

Tightening his hands about her waist, he felt the surge of desire and want that their kiss brought with it. The need for more. He tried to temper this- it was not the time, nor the place. He already knew that Emma was special. If he rushed, if he didn’t take care, he would send her skittering away. Life had not been kind. He could relate to that. All these thoughts jumbled and tossed through his brain as he fought the urges of lust and needing- feelings he felt emanating in waves from her as she rocked her body against him and scored his burning skin with her eager fingers.

She ached for more, feeling wanton and desired. She was dizzy with unexpected need for him. It left her breathless, the tension creeping up her spine, a building sensation, like the twisting of a screw-

It wasn’t often he lost control. He was no innocent with women, even if he shied away from relationships. He knew how to seduce; how to tease and tempt. But she was the temptress here. Building the moment in a swirling, whirling blur-

Finally, she gasped, pulling back, sucking in a cooling breath as his mouth fell to her neck, his own shuddering breaths a pairing to her own.

His hands slowly loosened about her waist. She slid hers to his shoulders where they remained limply for a moment.

“I should- I should go,” she finally said, her voice husky and low. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to pull him back into the kiss. To drag him to her apartment. To take this to its inevitable conclusion. Yet something stopped her. An understanding that he seemed to share that now was not the time.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to her. Nodding a grizzled, “Aye,” in reply.

He looked wrecked. His hair mussed, lips swollen, desire in his gaze.

Not now, was the unspoken understanding. But soon.

With a smile, she made to move away, but he caught her hand, quickly pulling it to his lips. “Goodnight Swan.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Goodnight Lieutenant.”

Then before she could give into the urge to pull his mouth to hers again, she slipped away.

A/N 

Apologies for the little posting gap, work and life slammed me hard! Two more chapters to go :D

Thank you for reading. J

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

CSBB: Part of the Narrative (10/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Includes sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: Weeping, feelings, confrontations, and revelations.

Happy Halloweek, have some pain! And more revelations!  Thank you for all the likes and kudos and reblogs that have been cherished and squealed over. Thank you to all the wonderful ladies at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first and sixth chapters, which you can check out here and here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better. Like seriously, she’s the best.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Chapter 10

Emma confronts growing suspicions that Regina is hurting Henry. Killian thinks she might wrong and overreacting. When she doesn't handle his reaction well, she runs into Cleo, who has more news to share.

Emma

“Henry? Are you okay?” Emma asked, worried at how quiet the phone had gone.

They had talked three or four times in the past couple of weeks, about every imaginable topic they could--school, their respective interests, tentative things they wanted to do if they had a chance to see each other again. Emma got the impression Regina wasn’t thrilled, but she was just happy to have the opportunity to chat with her son.

The silence continued a few more moments before Henry finally said, “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Nothing, really. I just feel...weird.”

Emma’s brow furrowed and she paused, trying to decide how to get him to tell her more. “What kind of weird? Are you sick?”

“Cool it, okay?” Emma could practically hear his eyeroll. “I feel fine like that. But you know how I told you when we first met that I feel like somebody’s watching me? I feel like that, but more now.”

She bit her lip. “Is there a reason you think that?” She didn’t want him to be right, but she also really didn’t want him to be wrong either. Being right would be awful, and scary, and she didn’t know what they could do, or how she could protect him.

But if he was wrong, she worried Henry would be upset with her, would think she didn’t believe in him and trust him. Worse, Henry might decide he couldn’t trust her and would push her away. She couldn’t abide that.

“It’s mostly a feeling, but a couple of times I’ve seen the same person waiting outside my school. He never picks up a kid, and he is always gone when I turn to look back,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

That was worrying, and he didn’t sound completely crazy. It bore looking into, even if there were plenty of explanations for the behavior he was describing.

“That makes sense,” Emma reassured him, “but is there a reason you think they’re watching you?”

“I mean, it makes sense, right? Between Mom’s job and you being famous? And sometimes I think I see them other places too.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t argue with that--she was well-known, even if she loved her privacy, and Regina was pretty damn well-off. Of course, it could be someone watching another kid--acrimonious custody battles were definitely a thing, she’d learned during her stint as a bail bondsperson. Not that it made this any better. “Hmm. Have you talked to Regina about this?”

Henry gave another long pause. “I did once. She told me I was probably imagining things.”

That was worrying.

“Yeah,” Henry said. She couldn’t tell much from his tone, but he seemed to be fishing for some kind of response from her.

If only she knew what that response should be.

“What does this person look like?”

“Well, I think it’s a man. They seem fairly tall, and they always wear a hat. They’re white? And not all that noticeable.”

“Hmm,” Emma muttered.

&&&

"Hey, can we talk?" Emma asked, stepping through the open door of Regina’s large, corner office, the nicest in the building, without waiting for an answer. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of natural light, which shone warmly on the ornate ash furniture. The room was decorated in whites, greys, and blacks with hints of red throughout, managing to make it look inviting and imposing at the same time. Emma was impressed all over again, even if it was her second time in the office.

Regina looked up from her computer, seemingly unperturbed at Emma’s unannounced intrusion. She was as poised as ever, clad in black and cobalt, not a single hair astray. "Do I have much of a choice? You're here, and you're talking, so...by all means, continue with this undoubtedly deeply important interruption."

Emma clenched her fists, willing herself not to respond to her baiting. "I'm here to talk about something that should interest you. Or someone, rather. Henry."

Taking her hands away from the keyboard and swiveling in her chair to face Emma directly, Regina leaned back in her chair. "Oh?"

"When I was on the phone with him last night, he mentioned something’s been bothering him. He feels like someone is watching him," she said, settling into the uncomfortable visitor's chair across the desk from Regina.

"A lot of people are watching him, Miss Swan. I'm in the running for mayor of the town, and I'm quite well-known. I'm a prominent member of the community, and Henry thus has a correspondingly large number of eyes on him."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Emma gritted her teeth.

"No, I don't know what you mean."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma continued, "Then let me explain it. Henry feels like someone is watching him. In a hostile, spying-on-him, following-him-home-from-school kind of way."

Regina's lips tightened. "He brought this up to me a few weeks ago."

"I know. He said you brushed him off, telling him you thought he was imagining things."

Regina flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "And maybe that was a poor choice of words and a childish oversimplification on his part. Because he's a child, Ms. Swan. He sometimes sees things that aren't there, and children his age tend to think, on some level, that the world revolves around them. Something you might know if you had ever actually raised a child before."

Her smug tone had Emma's jaw clenching, her teeth grinding. Don't punch your boss, don't punch your boss, Emma silently repeated to herself. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Did I offend you in some way? I can't think of any reason for you to be so hostile to me. We've made each other a ton of money, and I'm the person who gave birth to your son. I happen to think you've done a decent enough job raising him since he's a pretty polite, interesting kid. I just thought you’d want to hear about the concerning thing Henry told me."

Regina sat back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing as she thawed a little at the positive mention of Henry and her own hand in raising him. "I'm not offended. I have no reason to be offended."

"So it doesn't bother you at all that Henry sought me out?"

It was Regina's turn to clench her jaw. "I'm not thrilled about the manner in which he did so. I would have wholly supported him looking for his birth mother--you--had we done so together, had he not done it behind my back."

"Is there a reason he might have felt it necessary to do that, Ms. Mills?"

Regina narrowed her eyes at Emma’s change from her first name. "I don't like what you're implying."

Emma couldn't resist the taunt, her pride still smarting from Regina’s earlier words. "Oh, I'm not implying anything. I'm saying that I think there's a reason Henry didn't tell you," she said cockily, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"Get out," Regina said coldly. Her volume was controlled, but there was no mistaking the fury in her voice. She stayed in her chair, gripping the corner of her desk tightly. "Get out of my office right now."

Emma stood leisurely, exiting the office without looking back.

&&&

“Jacob glanced back over his shoulder, hurrying through the alley. He prayed he could outpace the man following him, that maybe this time his foster parents and Raisa would believe him,” Killian read aloud from her draft on his screen. “But god, what if it was his foster mother? What if she were the one actually responsible for all of this chaos?”

He was sitting next to her on one of the stools at the kitchen island, pushing up the reading glasses that had fallen down his nose. They were working on her latest chapter and polishing off Chinese takeout while they did so. Emma’s heart clenched at the pleasant domesticity of it.

“I’ll never get over how weird it is to hear someone reading the words I wrote,” she said, taking a huge bite of her mapo tofu.

He smiled at her. “I can’t imagine that. Didn’t you read a good deal of it yourself at signings and readings with Bonds of the Past?”

“Sure, but that was just me reading it? Hearing someone else? That’s incredibly strange.”

“It can’t be that odd, especially in my melodious, accented voice,” he said, winking at her.

Emma rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it Swan, admit it,” Killian teased, his emphasis on each of the “t” sounds getting her hotter than any elocution had the right to.

“I might,” she said, staring at the way his tongue waggled at the corner of his mouth. Seriously, it was unfair.

He took a long drink of his watered down old fashioned, the ice having long since melted. “Then I shouldn’t have to tell you that it’s probably mutual.”

Her face reddened, and she bit her lip. “Then it won’t be too forward of me to ask you to stay over tonight?”

The warmth in his eyes turned hotter, his eyes darkening. He cleared his throat and replied gruffly, “I’d be honored to.”

“Honored? What are you, three hundred?”

“What I am is a gentleman,” he said, waggling an eyebrow at her before he sighed and looked back at the document on his screen. “A gentleman who is probably going to regret saying this, but we should finish looking over this chapter.”

Emma grimaced but nodded. “Work first, play later? Fine, fine, be responsible like that.” She looked wistfully at the page count, realizing they were only halfway through the chapter.

She really wanted to take him to bed. They’d been dating for about a month and a half, and Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this hard up. She definitely hadn’t waited this long since she was a teenager, and she half-regretted suggesting they take it slow.

It had been going slowly, all right. Too slowly. Honestly, she was shocked she hadn’t jumped him when he’d come in the door earlier, looking adorably earnest and unbearably attractive in his black jeans and black and muted purple floral button-up.

Killian took off his glasses and scratched behind his ear. “I’m probably going to hate myself for this later, but you might not want to extend that invitation once I say this.”

“Oh god, editorial bullshit I’m not going to like.” Her face remained impassive and her voice light, but her shoulders tightened at his words.

“Unfortunately.”

She sighed. “Well, let’s hear it, then. Let’s get this over with.”

He hesitated. “I…I don’t think you’ve really established a good motive for the foster parents’ culpability with Jacob. Why would they do it when they’re already acting as his guardians? It just seems unlikely to me.”

Okay, that’s annoying, she thought, trying to bring back the calm she’d felt a couple minutes before. “You don’t think I’ve established how shady they are?”

“You’ve talked about them being shady, but haven’t given much evidence or textual support for it beyond it being a feeling Jacob has,” Killian said, sounding apologetic. He was clearly feeling the pain of the tentative balance of their professional and personal relationships, and she might have felt badly, if he weren’t completely wrong. “But they are guilty of it. Can’t you just wait and see how it plays out over the next couple of chapters?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m just trying to make your book as good as it can be. I do have faith in your ability to get the reader there, just…this is the process.”

Emma felt a rush of irritation surge through her. “It might be the process, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s obvious they’re shitty parents. I would think you of all people would understand the need to trust the protagonist. Just because he’s a kid doesn’t mean the adults around him shouldn’t believe him. Or that the reader won’t.”

He paused, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Are you sure this is about the chapter? I’m starting to think this might be about something else, something closer to home.”

At that, she deflated, her burgeoning rage dissipating. Averting her eyes, she twiddled her chopsticks. After a few moments, she finally nodded. "I--well, there might be some stuff going on with Henry."

"What kind of stuff?" He reached out and took her hand, and her heart clenched.

"The kind of thing where he thinks someone is following him and has decent reasons to think so. But Regina doesn't believe him, and she blew me off when I tried to bring it up with her."

"Ah."

Chancing a peek at Killian, she saw he was avoiding her gaze. "What does 'ah' mean?"

He bit his lip before answering. "Keeping in mind that I don't know all the particulars and haven't had a good deal of time to think about it…I can think of several reasons that might be. And don't you think that--and this is me inferring from what I read from your chapter--that suspecting Regina of some kind of involvement in this is rather ludicrous? You might be overreacting."

She saw red. "Ludicrous?! Overreacting?!"

He didn't seem to notice, or at least acknowledge, her increased agitation. "Well, as I mentioned, why? Why would she do such a thing, Swan?"

"Oh, gee, maybe it could have something to do with my sudden appearance in Henry's life. If he was really happy with her, do you think he would have sought me out?" Emma bit out, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

"Don't you think that's a bit…self-serving, love? I can think of plenty of reasons Henry might have sought you out even if he was 100% thrilled with his relationship with Regina. After all, you seem happy now, but wouldn't you like to at least know your parents?" Killian kept his tone even as he said this, but all it did was serve to further infuriate Emma.

"You were right, I don't want to hear this. And I don't want you to stay over tonight."

He looked at her, brow furrowed in worry. "Do you…are we okay?"

For the second time that night, she slumped back in her chair. "I…I think we will be. I'm just really fucking furious right now and don't want to look at you."

"You want me to leave."

"That's about the size of it."

Killian put his glasses away and closed his laptop, placing it into his messenger bag. He stood slowly and went over to where she was still seated, leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Very well, Emma. You know where to find me."

She sighed. "Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow?" Suddenly sounding unsure, she reached for his hand and squeezed it before pressing a kiss of her own to it.

"I'd love that," he said, smiling sadly as he walked to the door.

But Emma didn't respond. Lost in thought, she didn't acknowledge his departure.

&&&

Emma slowly dragged herself out of bed the next morning. She hadn’t slept well and now had a crick in her neck, the product of having spent most of the night tossing and turning.

And she was embarrassed. She had, in fact, overreacted the previous night. Slightly. As far as she was concerned, Killian was still mostly wrong, but he’d brought up the topic in as diplomatic and tactful way as he could. Like a reasonable adult in a grown-ass relationship…something she just wasn’t used to.  

Once she fortified herself with caffeine--coffee, she didn’t deserve hot chocolate--and made herself presentable, she would go to Killian, and they could talk it over. She’d heard a rumor once that that’s what adults did when they disagreed with someone they cared about, and she was willing to give it a shot.

She stepped into the bathroom and grimaced at the reflection in the mirror of her snarled, disheveled hair and blotchy face. (So she might have cried a little after Killian left, what of it?) Okay, so maybe she’d have to push back the timeframe for the day a little, the whole “making herself presentable” portion was going to take longer than she’d like.

Emma was going to need breakfast. And, she could admit to herself, moral support. She brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, throwing on a simple outfit that was comfortable, reassuring, and still cute. The flowing material of the tunic was soft, and the leggings tucked into the boots provided that edge of familiarity she needed for what was sure to be a trying day.

Eggs, bacon, and humble pie were on the menu.

&&&

She slid into her favorite booth, the smell of coffee, grease, and breakfast food in general making her feel at home and soothing her anxiety. Granny’s may not be fancy, but it was as unmistakably her as a place could get.

That sense of well-being deepened when a small whirlwind moved across the diner and into the seat across from her with astonishing speed. The expensive perfume she wore was at odds with the casual environment, and the heels too high and the outfit a tad too tailored, but Belle’s presence was always a welcome one in Emma’s book.

The artfully arranged curls framed a small, delicately beautiful face, and her blue eyes peered at Emma with concern.

God, she wasn’t going to cry just from Belle giving her that caring, motherly look. She wasn’t.

“Ruby will be out in just a second. She had to check on some things with the dairy supplier,” Belle said, fiddling with the wedding ring that matched the one on Ruby’s hand. “But how are you?”

Despite her earlier admonition, Emma’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m fine.”

The only response she got was a doubtful glance and a raised eyebrow that challenged her to continue.

“Okay, maybe I’m not fine,” she admitted.

Ruby arrived then and silently poured three full mugs of coffee. “You’re obviously not fine, Emma. You’d never text me before ten in the morning if you were.”

Emma looked up at her blearily. “Point made,” she said, and Belle and Ruby exchanged a look.

“What can I get you, sweetie?” Ruby asked. “I could even do a grilled cheese if that'll help.”

“No, but thank you. Maybe some waffles? And some advice and a hug?”

“We can do that.”

In a startlingly short period of time, she was polishing off her plate of waffles. Ruby sat next to her, arm draped over her shoulders, while Belle sat across from them, listening intently as Emma filled them in on the previous day’s happenings.

“It sounds like you have a lot on your plate. Metaphorically, that is,” Belle commiserated.

Emma sighed. “Yeah. I just…did I mess things up with Killian? Am I totally off base with the whole Henry and Regina situation?”

Ruby tightened her grip on her. “No, I don’t think so. From what you said, Killian seemed fine last night. Sad, but okay with you needing a little space. And with Regina and Henry…you need to follow your instincts. You’ve always had good ones. Remember that doctor I went out with a couple times? You totally called it with how weird he turned out to be.”

“Rubes, no one could have guessed that he would be into experimenting on dead bodies.”

Belle turned to her wife, intrigued. Ruby just shrugged. “Sure, but not even Granny tried to stop me from dating him.”

“That’s because every time she told you not to do something, you just…intensified the thing,” Emma said.

“Still, points to you. Just take what you can get, Emma.”

“I will. For starters, another hug?”

Both Ruby and Belle obliged, embracing her tightly and packing her a large takeaway bag full of a pie Ruby had made for the diner along with cookies Belle had made that morning.

Heart and arms fuller, she made her way home. Arriving at her apartment she was startled to see a familiar face outside her door--Cleo.

&&&

Emma stared at Cleo, confused. She had rarely--if ever--seen her outside of work or work-related events, and she was a little puzzled to find her outside of her apartment. For starters, how did she even know where she lived?

Belatedly and somewhat superfluously, she realized that Cleo had access to her HR files, which was probably how she learned her address. But that still didn't answer why she was here.

Cleo met her eyes wordlessly, looking more torn and indecisive than Emma had ever seen her. Her hair wasn't in its usual orderly, business-like ponytail, and she wasn't wearing her usual carefully tailored leather or wool. She was wearing jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair was wild and wavy, and she looked as exhausted as Emma felt.

Emma's stomach clenched, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally, she spoke, stepping towards her front door. "Uh, hi, Cleo. What's up…on a Saturday? Outside my apartment?"

Cleo grimaced. "We need to talk. Can we go inside?"

"Yikes, that phrase doesn't usually lead to good things," Emma said, motioning her inside and leading her to the couch. She sat at one end and Cleo at the other, neither looking at the other.

"I wish I could say this would be an exception, but I can't imagine this conversation will be fun. Or easy."

Emma tilted her head, considering. "Okay, well, would you like some coffee first? Or tea? I can get you a slice of pie, too."

"That…sounds good."

Emma carefully cut the pie while the coffee brewed, the gurgling of the percolator the only sound in the apartment. As soon as it was prepared, Emma brought out their mugs and pie and rejoined Cleo on the couch.

She cleared her throat, unsure of how to begin. "So..."

"August has been spying on you," Cleo blurted out.

"What?" Whatever she'd been expecting, that hadn't been it. She put down her mug, splashing some of the coffee on herself. She winced, but made no motion to get anything to clean it off her top.

"He's been digging for information on you, colluding with at least one other person. For reasons I can't entirely figure out."

"The fuck? What? Spying on me? With another person? And uh, how do you know this?" She stared at Cleo, her mouth gaping open.

Cleo's mouth twisted. "August has been giving all this information he's gotten about you to a woman. I'm not entirely sure who. I’ve heard them on the phone, her voice sounds familiar, but..."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Emma sat there, stupefied. She didn't get it. August had brought her into the publishing house, making it possible for her to not have an agent. He'd essentially acted as one for her, providing a mutually beneficial professional relationship that been good for both of them. She would have probably answered any relevant questions he might have. So what the hell was he asking?

"I don't know what to say."

"I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't want to burst in on your Saturday, but I thought you needed to know. And I'm afraid that's not the worst of it," Cleo said, looking truly apologetic.

"What could be worse than that?"

"The person August was using to get a lot of that information, at least for a while, was Killian."

Fuck.

Emma wasn't sure how to process the information Cleo had just given her. She had sat motionless while Cleo told her how she'd gotten the information and what had tipped her off that something might be wrong with the entire scenario. It had seemed pretty clear.

She just didn't get why.

"Jones seems to have been involved initially because August expedited his immigration to the US. He could have gotten it done otherwise, but he seemed to want to get out of England fast, and August somehow made that possible," Cleo explained.

"How? I wouldn’t have thought August had much pull with any sort of governmental organization. He's good at marketing and making connections, but Regina is the one at Mills & Booth with the ties to deep pockets and the power players."

Cleo looked at her sympathetically, taking in the lost and confused expression on Emma's face. "Well, I can postulate he's made some connections that might help. And the money seems to have come from his silent--or rather, unseen--partner."

Emma sighed. "Who might actually be Regina."

"It could be, yes, but I don't know for sure," said Cleo.

"Jesus. Just...why? Wouldn't it have been easier to just ask me stuff?"

"Would you have told him? You're not the most forthcoming, and I'll be honest, I don't know whether August's motive is personal or professional. All I know is that he asked Jones for as much information as he could get about you, from personal stuff to what you were working on with your novel."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma chewed on her thumbnail while she considered everything Cleo told her. "So Killian told him everything? Everything I've been telling him for the last few months?"

"I'm not sure," Cleo replied carefully. "What I can tell you is that Killian seems to have stopped providing any information about a month or so ago. At that point, he functionally ceased communication with August beyond the usual professional progress updates you'd expect." She hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry. I know you two were getting closer."

"We've been dating for the last month and a half, basically," she said bluntly.

Cleo winced. "That…I don't really know how to say much beyond 'I’m sorry', but I can't help but think you'd want more of an explanation from Killian than from me."

"Yeah," Emma said, pushing aside her growing pain and swelling rage, "I do want to confront Killian. But what about August? Do I ask him? Do I tell him? Hell, can I sue him?"

Averting her eyes, Cleo shook her head. "I'd wait until I knew more, if I were you. I have to say that I might not have acquired all of my information through the most straightforward or, uh, legal methods."

Emma let out a startled laugh. "I never would have guessed, Cleo."

She smiled sadly. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I guess there's a lot all of us don't show each other," Emma mused, a storm raging inside her as she finally realized how much Killian had hidden from her.