A/N: Sara and I wrote a thing - I'll Be Here - which you can read here. And I decided to write a companion piece to that in Emma's headspace. As Always, thank you thesassywitchofthenortheast for well, being you. Originally posted April 5th, 2015 to Tumblr. NOTE: When we wrote this, we decided that CS had not had the coffee yet, but have since then changed our mind. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.
She briefly wonders if this is what Killian felt like when Gold took his heart, or maybe more probable, one of Regina's many victims. She curses herself for the past four years, for putting trust in someone again. As she stares into her reflection, her eyes gravitate towards her necklace dangling down, mocking her for breaking her promise.
I wear this to remind myself never to trust anyone again.
But now there is him. The man who broke down these walls, who has never caused her pain, who has poured his heart and soul into her, who declares her to be his happy ending. She's already over analyzed this declaration half a billion times and even this cannot ease the pain she feels.
"Mom?" Henry peaks through the bathroom door where Emma is frantically rearranging the toiletries and packing away her makeup in a bag.
"Hey, sorry." she says, wiping tears from her eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
"I'm fourteen, mom." he says, "Where are you going?" He furrows his brow, worry prevalent in his visage.
"I - I don't know. I just, can't stay here." She zips up the small red bag and curls her hand into a fist. "But you are."
"You're not gonna sleep in your car again are you?"
"I don't-"
He treads closer, daring to place his hand on her shoulder. "Where are you going to go?"
"I'll be fine, kid." she replies sternly, looking away and turning her attention to the task at hand..
"Have you talked to Killian?"
Her eyes go wide for a second, inhaling sharp and deep. "Damn it. I was supposed to text him."
"You should stay with him."
"Henry?"
"Mom, Killian loves you and if I'm worried about you than he definitely is too. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to have you stay with him. Plus, you'll be safe there. Not like he'd let anything bad happen to you." Henry pauses, "He's really good for you, mom."
She grins, pulling him in for a hug, letting the love of her son and Killian encompass her. Keeping her emotions at bay; she tries to remind herself that she is loved, that her parents actions were guided by love and concern for her, but it only adds to her current agitation. In the background she can hear footsteps approaching and she bolts, mumbling that she has to go before letting go and heading to her car.
She thought slamming the car door shut might ease some of her pain, but it only rips her heart again, echoing in the air around her along with every other betrayal she has felt throughout her life. Her death grip on the steering wheel can't stop the flow of quiet sobs from escaping, forming deep in the pit that she had fought too long to have chained away. When she laid back in her seat, memories of sleepless nights in her car came to the surface. It was a guaranteed crick in her neck the next morning, the experience only adding to her frustrations and one night homelessness. The weather didn't help either, frigid air seeping through the cracks to make contact with her skin. She sighs, starting the ignition because she knows where she has to go, where she wants to go despite the voice in the back of her head telling her to run; to stay. She fights with the voice that reminds her of their unspoken agreement to take things steady, reminds her that they haven't taken this step yet. But the playing board changed when her parents betrayed her.
She drives to Granny's, rushing up the stairs only to slow when she can see his door in the dimlit hall. Double taps on his door and she knows she can't run now.
"Swan?"
"Hey," she stammers, trying to read him. He's groggy, surprised, worried, and if she's reading him right, hurt. (She knows it's because she looks like shit - tangled mess of hair with smeared makeup and puffy eyes, but she pushed the thoughts aside.) She can see a shimmer of relief in his eyes and it causes a weak, only noticeable to her, tremble starting in her fingers. She should have called ahead. "I, uh…I didn't…" She closes her eyes, to divert her mind from the embarrassment she can feel coursing through her, turning her head over her left shoulder because if she holds his gaze, she knows she will break.
She watches his focus drop to the floor, register the black duffle bag dormant by her feet. A flutter of relief crawls up her spine when he bends down, wordlessly capturing the strap with his hook before taking her hand in his own. Once they're inside, he kicks the door shut with his foot and for the first time tonight, she feels a surge of calm shoot through her. His grip tightens on her hand, reassuring her, banishing away the thoughts of self loathing and questioning, banishing away some of the hesitancy and fear lurking behind her eyes and welcoming a solemn smile. Killian shifts to his right advertently distancing himself from her and she wishes he hadn't. Of course he was being a gentleman, unpresumptuous and nervous, but she needed him to hold her.
Emma unlinks her duffle from his hook, carrying it wordlessly to the dresser and placing it on top. She unpacks the necessities: toothbrush, makeup remover, and pajamas."Can I borrow a shirt, I left so quick I forgot to grab one to sleep in." she says sheepishly.
"Of course, love." She notices his movements, quick and swift, eyes darting from side to side as he's rummaging through his clothes with care, making sure they are neatly folded before putting them back in their homes. His pursuits prove successful when he pulls out a dark gray t-shirt and hands it to her carefully. She gives him a soft expression of gratitude before retreating into the small bathroom. When she emerges from the doorway moments later, unsure of what to do, uneasiness sets in and she looks and feels broken.
"Thank you, for…" Emma gestures to the shirt, placing her clothes from the day back into her bag. She steps forward, closing the gap between them, already vowing that she would not pull away from him again.
"No thanks needed, Swan." Killian replies, making no effort to hide his smirk. "Besides, it looks better on you, anyhow." He kisses her head, letting his lips linger longer usual and it soothes her; he was so warm and comforting when his arm slithered around her back and some of the initial awkwardness fades. "Let's get to bed, yeah?" he suggests into her hair.
"I'm sorry if I woke you, before."
"I wasn't asleep." His words ricocheted around the room and she feels guilty again. She should have called.
Emma nods, detaching herself from his hold to find her place on his bed. She curls into herself, cuddling into the cream colored sheets before turning to face the window, staring at the crevice left by the opaque curtains. He shuffles his feet and joins her, laying flat on his back while sheathing his hook with his hand
It wasn't that they kept it from her - that was the least of her concerns. But after years of mounting walls , of being burned time after time, she had finally learned how to trust, only to have her parents twist with her story, with freewill because of their lack of faith in her to make her own decisions. Because of this, because of her, another little boy or girl grew up lost, feeling as if they didn't matter and never would. Maybe they were one of the lucky ones who had a family adopt them, but Emma knew all too well that wouldn't stop the tears late in the night , self loathing and asking why they were not good enough, why they couldn't be enough. What if they were found on the side of a highway as she had been - practically left for dead. She wonders if they still carry the look of despair and hopelessness in their eyes - possibly blue like Maleficent's. Did he or she like fairytales? Have an odd kinship towards dragons? Dream of being a princess? She feels his head turn, hears the soft scuffle of his pillow against his head, momentarily snapped back into the present. He's on the opposite end of the bed, as close to the edge as he can be and she lets her mind wander to him, lets it compare and contrast the now from her past. She deducts that she's never felt more cherished: to not be alone, to have someone she can go to when her world is crumbling, to vent to and understand her when speech won't come. She won't tell him, how much she wants to be held, nuzzling her nose into his neck or chest, letting the feel of him take away her fear, guilt, and pain. She won't thank him for being the only one to always believe in her a hundred and ten percent, for bringing her home, for being her home, her hope and her rock.
(This feeling only intensifies every moment they're together.)
He's too far away. Emma sighs, her thoughts driving her closer to insanity and tears than she ever dared to venture. She reaches out for him until her hand makes contact with his soft, warm, fingers; she barely tugs him closer to her, letting go and bringing her hand back up, folded to her chest. When his body presses up against her back, arm snaking around her middle, his thumb massaging circles around her ribcage, she smiles.
"Thank you." Her voice cracks when she speaks, barely above a whisper with a fresh stream of silent tears coming down her eyes. When he pulls her closer and kisses her head, resting his chin atop it, replying with "Always, Swan", she thinks she loves him. He understands her. She's lulled to sleep with gentle kisses and unspoken promises, the warmth of his body tangled in hers.
She's so glad she didn't sleep in her car.