Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT.
AN: This story is a little experiment. The events taking place in the present are written in present tenses, the flashbacks in past. Thank you Kjb2609 for betaing this. You did an amazing job. :* Also big thanks to Mona001 for her input and for lenfaz and mayquita for looking at the outline for this fic. You ladies rock.:)
He walks into the tavern, making sure he stays in the shadows and avoids the gaze of the patrons. Not that the establishment's clientele is sober enough to notice him, but a shiny hook in the place of his left hand is a dead giveaway of his identity. Accompanied only by a quiet scratch of black leather pants, he slides onto a bench in the darkest corner of the room, resting his elbows on a tatty table.
The tavern is dimly lit, perhaps as a cost cutting measure by Granny. One of the wenches, a regular one, must have recognized him while passing by, because a few heartbeats later there is a mug filled with the plonk Granny calls ale standing before him. He nods to her in a silent thank you. She smiles at him, a little sad smile and leaves to take care of the other patrons.
Looking for a familiar figure, his gaze sweeps across the room once again.
He spots her by the counter, loading a wooden tray with mugs. Her hair shines in the candlelight, warm and golden. It looks like a halo around her head, making her look even more beautiful than she already is. Her porcelain skin radiates in the darkness of the tavern. He can't see her eyes in this light but judging by the smile on her face, they must be shining with laughter. A dull brown corset hugs her figure, showing her curves wonderfully, as does the multicolored skirt ending somewhere in the middle of her calf. She looks so different from the girl he had met all those years ago.
When he first saw her she was hiding behind the fruit stall. Filthy rags hung on her small figure, obscuring it. Her hair was a mess of greasy strands and the dirt on her face was already falling off in a few places. If he had to be honest, he would have almost missed her if it wasn't for the big green eyes, shining like two stars. He watched as her thin hand reached for an apple lying on the stall, licking her lips as a look of hunger flashed in those expressive orbs. A look he was all too familiar with. One he often saw in his own reflection in the dock's calm waters.
Suddenly a big hand grabbed her smaller one in a tight grip, pulling her from behind the stall.
"Thief!" The merchant screamed, lifting her up. She tried to escape his grip, pry his fingers away from her wrist but the man was big and strong and she was just a little girl, kicking her dirty bare feet in the air.
He clenched his teeth as anger burned in his veins. He let go of the wheel of the wagon he was hiding behind and let his feet carry him towards the girl. The merchant was already causing a scene. He had to act fast, before it was too late.
"You know what punishment is for thieving?" A big butcher knife came out of nowhere. The man had almost shoved it into her face, while placing her small hand on the wooden stall. Her eyes got bigger, lips parted with a whimper. The merchant took a swing.
"Thank you kind sir, thank you." Somehow he found strength to hold the man's hand back. A frown appeared on the merchant's sleazy face, but before he could utter a single word Killian directed his attention to the girl. "I've been looking all over for you!" He knotted his eyebrows, eyeing her with his hands on his hips. "Mother is so mad at you right now! She told you not to wander away! And where did you get so dirty?" He pulled the girl's hand out of the man's grip. He saw a flash of understanding in her eyes before she started to play along.
"I didn't wander away. I was just curious." She pulled her thin hand away from his grasp and folded her arms again her chest. A frown appeared on her dirty face as she turned away from him, her chin high.
Killian swept the ground in his low bow.
"I'm terribly sorry, kind sir." The man eyed him, suspicion evident in his gaze. "My sister here is a little crazy," the boy whispered, shielding his mouth with his palm. Apparently his efforts did not bring the desired result because he could hear her letting out a gasp. "My mother and I do everything we can" He put his hand to his heart and sighed, nodding his head. "But sadly it's not an easy task."
The merchant switched his gaze between them. The girl clenched her fist and if looks could kill the boy would die a thousand deaths already.
"But..."Killian sighed, producing an apple from behind his back. "No harm done." He threw the fruit to the astonished man whose jaw hung so low it was a miracle his long beard did not drag through the dirt of the marketplace. "Come along sis." Killian put his hands on the girl's shoulders and guided her out of the merchant's reach, his steps long and fast. "Be prepared to run," he whispered through clenched teeth.
They passed the crowd that had gathered around the stall like vultures waiting for free entertainment. Killian could still feel the man's gaze drilling a hole in his back. Just a few more steps. He could hear the crowd murmur getting louder and louder. "Now!"
The made a mad run, hiding behind a wagon and then straight to the dark alley. The screams of the merchant followed them as they ducked behind the buildings. He had no idea how long they ran. All he knew was that when they finally stopped he was out of breath and his lungs hurt so much he had bent in half and put his hands on his knees for support. He threw a look at the little girl beside him. Her breath was heavy. She sat on her knees, her hands digging in the dust. She looked utterly tired, but she was safe.
"Well." He managed to say. "That was an adventure, huh love?" She smirked at him but her eyes told him a tale of gratitude.
Somehow he managed to straighten himself. "I'm Killian," he said as he held out his hand to her. She eyed it with her eyebrows knotted, apparently wary of strangers, despite him saving her only a minute before. He reached out to her again and this time she took his hand slowly.
"Emma." She shook his hand, her hold very light and fleeting. When he smiled at her, she averted her gaze. "Thank you." Her voice was so quiet, he almost did not hear it. Not being one very keen to thank anybody for anything, he understood her aloofness. Feeling a rush of blood reaching the tips of his ears, he scratched a spot behind his ear before answering. "You're welcome."
Taking Emma to his hideout seemed the only option. She was a small girl, prone to be taken in by some gang to be trained a beggar or a pickpocket.
"Come." Killian helped her up. "We still have a long way to go."
She tagged at his hand. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe."
Somewhere between finding something to eat she devoured the stolen piece of bread and two apples at an alarming speed) and climbing the treacherous steps that led to the attic of the abandoned building he called home, he decided to learn something about her.
"I haven't seen you around before...Where are you from?"
She shrugged and continued following him in silence.
"I won't bite you, you know." He saw her grimace. She looked as if she didn't believe him. Trying to convince her, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I did save your life. You can trust me." She shrugged again, causing him to drop his hand. It seemed it was her answer to any question he asked. He didn't want to push her. He understood the need to protect yourself. He continued his climb until they reached their destination.
He placed his bag with the rest of the stolen food on the mish mashed table, made from and old barrel.
"I ran." Her voice startled him. "From Mrs. Spencer's orphanage."
He blinked at her. He knew that place. It was a nasty one. They all were in a port like Nebula but this particular orphanage had a reputation. A reputation that screamed: Do Not Come Near It. Killian avoided the east side of the port at all cost. He looked at her with admiration. Not many managed to escape that place. Emma must have been a tough lass to do so.
"How...How long have you been there?" He could hear awe in his own voice.
She frowned once again. Probably thinking.
"Last winter and a winter before that, and another before that." She played with the dirty strand of her hair. "They brought me there when the leaves fell from the trees."
Three winters as far as he could tell and remembered when she was brought in. He looked at her once more, trying to determine her age. She was probably around 6 years old, if she remembered that. With her thin flesh and short height, she looked younger. At least as far as a 10 year old boy could tell.
He was lucky enough or cursed enough with an educated father. He had an opportunity to learn how to read and count, among other things, before the man disappeared, leaving him to fend for himself about two winters before. Killian had been lucky, none of the gang tried to recruit him and he was skilled enough to survive on his own. Her presence created a problem he had to deal with. It was far easier to get rid of her and ignore the need to protect her. He managed fine on his own but there was something in her eyes that made him think she must stay. Maybe he was getting lonely.
"You can stay with me." She blinked her wide eyes at him, mouth hanging agape. His statement shocked him as much as it did her. He shrugged, recovering quickly. "It would be easier if there were two of us." She considered him briefly before nodding her head in acceptance.
So Emma stayed with him and learned to cope with the hardships of a lost girl. Learned how to steal and lie, how to survive on the street and she was good at it.
A smile forms on his lips, as he remembers. So much has changed since then.
"I thought I told you to be more careful." A soft feminine voice pulls him out of his thoughts.
His head shoots up to meet the green gaze of Emma.
She stands before him, holding a wooden tray on her hip. From what he can tell, there is a bowl of hot water on it, swatches of linen she uses as bandages and a greasy herbal mash, he knows all too well
"Good evening love. How are you faring today?" He tries to be cheerful. Her raised eyebrow indicates she doesn't buy it even for a second.
Instead of answering him, she puts the tray on the table and slides onto the bench next to him. A frown forms on her face as she inspects a cut on his eyebrow and his bloody lip. The delicate touch of her fingers contradicts the stern expression she wears. She looks annoyed.
"Better than you I think." She states while soaking a single cloth in the water.
He hisses when she puts the damp material to his eyebrow. "How did you know I was here?" She rolls her eyes at him.
Ignoring his attempts to pull away from her touch, she catches his face in her hand.
"Ash told me." She cleans the wound methodically, unaware of the dance his heart makes every time she touches him. "She noticed you sitting here." She soaks the cloth in the hot water once more and puts it to his lip. "You are using the ale she gave you to dull the pain, so you shouldn't be surprised." She puts the linen away and spreads the greasy mash on her fingers.
He cringes at the mere sight of it.
"Don't be a baby Killian" She scolds him. "It will sting only for a moment." He rubs the herbs against his brow and lips, and his heart is ready to burst out of his chest. "There." She frowns noticing his heavy breathing. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asks, touching his ribs through the thin linen of his shirt.
His breath hitches at the contact but he contains himself almost instantly, shaking his head. He is quite good at that now.
"You should have seen the other guy." He tries to laugh it off but Emma only rolls her eyes at him.
"Killian you have to quit this." She puts a hand on his shoulder. "You had a good job once. Why not try to find one now." Pain flashes through his stump and he shakes her hand off.
She folds her hands on her lap and throws him a sad look from beneath her dark lashes. Turning his head away, he desperately tries not to look at her. He doesn't want her see the pain her words have caused him.
Killian hid behind the stack of barrels. The night had just fallen and the old shop looked abandoned. There were no guards taking rounds around the building but he had to be sure. Better be safe than dead. Of course there was always a risk Nebula guards could catch him. It came with the job description, but he didn't have another choice. If Smee's information had been correct, this job should be an easy one.
He was already too old to be a pickpocket. A boy his age didn't exactly pass as an innocent lost lad, searching for his parents. Avoiding gangs had become even harder. Good thing he met Smee, who knew about minor jobs the gang's leaders were not interested in. Killian didn't want to know where the jobs came from. All that mattered was the fact that he could provide for himself and Emma.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Thinking about Emma right now was not a good idea. He needed to get done with this job. The pay would solve most of their problems.
He pulled the ashen hood on his raven head. The cloth was worn out, its tiny shreds tickled his cheek a little so he blew them away. Wary of anyone who could possibly see him, he started to sneak around barrels and piles of planks scattered near the shop entrance. He moved like a shadow, unseen and unheard.
A patrol of guards that suddenly came from around the corner of the alley forced him to hide in the shadow of the small awning on the right side of the building. Merry voices tried to carry on a tune he once heard in a tavern and failed miserably. Killian crinkled his nose, when the odor of undigested alcohol hit him. He snorted. Drinking on a job was bad form. Not to mention it clouded the brain, making you slower and reckless. Well, his father thought so anyway.
When the guards lurched far away enough, he leaped to the door and examined the lock. It was an easy one to pick -just two moves of the lock pick. Killian smirked to himself when the door let go with a soft click. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him as quick and quiet as he could. Resting his back against the hardwood, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. So far so good. You can never be too careful.
Opening his eyes, he scanned the room carefully. He stayed in his spot a few seconds, listening to every sound in the darkness. He had to make sure no one heard him coming in. There was no movement to be heard, not a single word was uttered.
Killian pushed himself off the door. The inside of the shop was mostly dark and if it weren't for the two oil lamps hanging from the rafters, he wouldn't be able to see even the tip of his own nose. Taking a few steps forward, he discovered that the light the lamps provided illuminated the exact spot Smee had described to him. A large engraved escritoire, full of large pieces of parchment scattered on its surface. An ink bottle with a quill stood right next to the closed drawer he was interested in.
He took a few more steps towards it carefully placing his feet on the floor planks. Silently, he prayed they wouldn't creak. It seemed the gods favored him because he managed to reach to escritoire without making a sound. Smiling to himself, he examined the lock on the drawer. It was definitely iron, although the golden coat could mislead a person not acquainted enough with locks. Absentmindedly, Killian reached into his belt bag, producing the set of carefully kept lock picks. He eyed them for a moment. This lock was different from the ones he had broken before, harder to open for sure. He picked one of the rarely used tools and wiped against his pants. Biting his tongue, he stuck the pick into the lock.
Suddenly he heard a rustle behind his back. He came to a standstill. Hands still on the lock, he looked around without moving his head. In the corner of his eye he could see a huge muscled man approaching him on his left. His thoughts ran a thousand miles for a second. There had to be a way out. A window! A few steps to the left and one high jump and he would be free. He braced himself, trying to determine when to move...
"Grab him!" A loud voice cracked the silence.
Killian got up as fast as he could and threw himself towards the window but the mountain like bastard grabbed his collar just as he was about to take a leap, and pulled him up. His legs kicked the air as the he was being turn away from his freedom.
The man holding him threw his body on the floor. The air left his lungs with a groan as he hit the hardwood. A metallic taste filled his mouth. He licked his lips, to examine the damage. A big hand grabbed his shoulder, lifting him up so that he was on his knees. Another pair of hands grabbed his smaller ones and held them behind his back. He let out a hiss when they took off his hood and someone pulled him by his hair, forcing him to show his face. The light from the lantern, held right in front of his face, blinded him for a minute.
"He is just a boy." A heavily accented voice said. "With no more than 13 springs on his back." The blindness slowly disappeared and Killian was able to see the outlines of the men present in the room. He counted six of them, four big roughnecks almost touching the principal with their head and two smaller ones, thin and bony. One of them had a third leg. A cane he realized.
"He is no boy," The cane man spit his words like venom. "He is a thief." Disgust filled his voice.
He came into the light and Killian saw a short, slightly humpbacked man. His wispy ash hair had silver streaks in it, his nose was sharp like a bird's beak and his eyes… his muddy eyes were filled with ice, cold enough to freeze his frantically beating heart. "And you know how I deal with thieves." The slippery edge in his voice made a shiver run down Killian's spine. A grimace, showing a golden tooth did not help matters either.
"With all due respect Lord Gold." The other small one walked into the light. "He did not steal anything." He was an old balding man with kind brown eyes. The rest of his hair was almost white and so was his neatly trimmed beard. "It was merely an attempt."
The cane man, Lord Gold, shrugged his shoulders. "Same difference."
"For you it may be." The older man faced Lord Gold. "But it's my place the boy chose to rob and it's up to me to decide his fate." He lifted his chin up and straightened his posture.
Lord Gold eyed him.
"Very well Master Geppetto." He waved his hand. "Do what you want with the boy." He lowered himself to look into Killian's face. "I will be watching you, boy," he sneered.
Nodding his fingers at two of the roughnecks, reptilian smile still lingering on his lips, he turned around and headed towards the exit. They followed him wordlessly.
"Let the boy go." Master Geppetto said as soon as the crippled lord left the shop.
Killian let out a sigh when the man's bodyguards released him. He put his hand to his neck to rub the numbness away. Lifting his gaze, his eyes met the stern ones of the old man.
"I may not have let his lordship cut off your hand, but I can't let you go either." Killian gulped. A fear rose in his heart. Master Geppetto scratched his beard and sighed. "You are old enough to work for me." Killian opened his mouth to say something but the man pulled his hand up to stop him. "You can either become one of my apprentices or you'll be send to Bo-Peep's Rehabilitation Center." Killian felt his stomach twist. Geppetto crouched before him and looked at him, his eyes soft. "The decision is up to you my boy."
A shiver ran through Killian's body. "I can't stay." His voice was so quiet, so small.
Sighing, the old man stood up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I hoped you would choose my offer." Killian's blood ran cold. "Humpty." Master Geppetto waved his hand towards the mountain like man. "Get the boy to Shepherd Square."
"No!" Killian screamed as Humpty grabbed him by his collar again. "You don't understand!" He kicked his legs, trying to free himself. Desperation filled his as he saw the old man turning his back on him and walking away. "I'm not alone!"
Master Geppetto stopped dead in his tracks.
"I'm not alone," Killian whispered.
In any other circumstances, showing three strangers the way to your hideout would be considered pure stupidity. Killian however, had no choice. Not really. Although he cringed at the thought he would have to abandon the place he called home for all these years, the alternative was a scarier one.
His heart skipped a beat when they reached the murky attic. Ignoring his companions, he dashed towards the pile of rags in the most shielded part of the room.
She lay there, her face pale and sweaty. Golden hair shone on the ashen sheets like a priceless treasure, despite being shagged. There was a huge bruise on her left cheek, already gaining yellowish color. A cut on her bottom lip stood out like a red apple thrown on a colorless ground. She looked like she was sleeping, her eyes closed, breath uneven, probably due to the bruised ribs.
Killian's heart clenched with pain. He shouldn't have let her go on her own. She was good in pickpocketing but the street gangs were onto them and it was not worth the risk. Emma, however, had always been a stubborn one, trying to prove her worth, so she went behind his back and ended up meeting with a really nasty group, who had held grudge against them for a while now. She managed to run away of course but the price of that meeting was nasty bruising and a fever. Fever that wouldn't fall no matter what he did. He sighed walking towards her. Beating himself up wouldn't do them any good.
He could feel the surprised gazes of his companions when they reached the center of the room. Lifting his head he looked into Master Geppetto's eyes and saw understanding in them. He heard a rustling behind him. Turning around, he saw Emma opening her eyes.
"Killian?" Her voice was small as she tried to focus her gaze on him.
Forgetting about their audience, he was by her side in two long strides. He crouched next to her and reached for her.
"I'm right here Emma." Taking her thin hand in his, he squeezed it gently and smoothed her hair with the other one.
Lifting herself up on her elbow, to a half- sitting position, she leaned into his touch and she sighed.
"Ah! So this little one is the reason you were willing to risk everything." Killian could feel Emma tense by his side at Master Geppetto's words. It seemed that the man could see that too. "Don't worry little one." The man said smiling at her. "Your… friend brought us here to help."
She hid her face in Killian's shoulder and he knew she was wary. Emma didn't trust people easily. They had disappointed her too many times in her short life. He turned his head to look at her. As her big eyes met his in a silent question, he smiled and squeezed her hand once more.
"It's okay Emma." The calm in his voice surprised him. "They are here to help." He nodded his head towards Master Geppetto and his bodyguards. Humpty stepped from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable and Master Geppetto sent them a smile. A warm one, creating wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.
Slowly, Emma nodded her head in acceptance. Relief flowed through Killian. She would be saved and maybe even happy.
They sit in silence. She is playing with her worn apron and he's drumming his fingers against the table. They had this conversation before. Nothing good ever comes out of it.
She opens her mouth a few times to say something but always closes it in the end. He doesn't want to look at her, doesn't want to see the disappointment in her eyes.
"Good evening Captain." A cheerful voice breaks the tension, making them turn their heads.
A plump man is heading their way. His belly is so big that he can barely fasten his belt. A big red beanie adorns his head, falling cheekily on his hair. He bows before Emma. "Milady."
She rolls her eyes at him and shoots Killian a look. Knowing that no matter what he says about the man, Emma will still not like him, Killian just shrugs.
"Smee." Standing up, she nods at him.
She starts to pick up her belongings and puts them on her tray while Smee slides into the bench across from Killian. Not a single word leaves her lips, but he knows she is not happy to see his associate. He can see it in her clenched jaw and her cold gaze.
Smee seems to not notice her cold reaction as he entertains himself with the mug of ale he has brought with him. Shooting them one more disapproving look, Emma leaves to take care of the rest of the patrons.
He watches her leave, his mood dark as the shadows he chooses to hide in. Watches as she skillfully avoided the hands of drunken idiots, who want to slap her behind in poorly attempted advances. She does not deserve this, any of this. Emma is too good for this place.
"So how did the job go?" Smee interrupts his train of thought. "Well, I hope."
Killian snorted, leaning into the light.
"Do I look like the job went well?" He spits through clenched teeth. "They were bloody waiting for me!" The mug hits the table with a loud thud. Several heads turn their way, but one cold look from Killian sends them back to minding their own business.
He looks back at Smee and points a finger at him.
"They knew I was coming."
Smee starts to sweat under his probing gaze. He takes his cap off and wipes his face.
"I'm sorry to hear that Captain but it's hard to get you a job these days." He points to the big hook gleaming in candlelight. "You have become quite recognizable."
Leaning into the wall, Killian lets out an unhappy huff. It's not the first time he has heard it. His gaze wanders around the room and stops at Emma. She smiles at some drunk idiot, handing him another mug of ale.
Killian sat at Master Geppetto's desk with parchments and measuring tools scattered around him. His hands were stained from the piece of charcoal he used to draw straight, elegant lines. The afternoon light coming from the window, the same one he tried to use as an escape route all those years ago, illuminated his work. As he worked fervently with his head bowed, an image formed from seemingly unrelated lines. A ship design.
He smiled to himself. Never in a hundred years had he thought he would end up as a ship builder's apprentice. When Geppetto took him and Emma in, he was prepared for hard work. Scrubbing floors, cutting wood or carrying heavy planks was what he saw as his job description and he was right to an extent. He did all that and much more, until one day the old ship builder spotted Killian admiring his sketches. They were bloody beautiful and Killian loved looking at them, the lines called him, mesmerized him in a way he didn't know was possible before.
Geppetto took an almost instant shine to the boy, who not only survived on the streets on his own for such a long time, but also helped a complete stranger, a little lost girl. So when he caught Killian looking through the parchments, he suggested the boy try to draw on his own. Soon they both had discovered that Killian had a gift. A rare one. He could count the right proportions almost on instinct and his drawings were clear and readable. What he didn't know he learned really fast but most importantly he worked really hard to be even better. In just three years he had become Master Geppetto's second hand, which irritated His Lordship Gold to no end. The Reptile Lord as Killian came to call him was one of their investors but Geppetto was famous and respected enough that he didn't dare to openly oppose his decisions.
"Hey." A shadow obscured Killian's view but the voice it brought with him made the boy smile.
He lifted his head to find his best friend sitting on the window still. She wore one of her smirks that meant she was up to something. Killian eyed her figure.
"Trying to give Granny a heart attack, aren't you?" He nodded his head towards her.
She rolled her eyes at him and swung her leather clad legs inside the room. "Britches are much more comfortable than those damnations she calls skirts." She crinkled her nose in disgust. It made him smile. "Besides I can do whatever I want in my free time and I bought this" she pointed to her blue leather vest and linen shirt, "...with the money I have earned with my hard work." She crossed her arms in front of her and blew away a strand of hair that got out of her braid.
The smile on Killian's face grew even wider. That was his Emma alright; saving for months just to buy a pair of trousers. No matter how hard Granny had tried to make a proper girl out of her, she always found a way to oppose her.
Granny had been Master Geppetto's friend. Well Killian thought that maybe they were more than friends but it wasn't the subject anyone was keen on exploring. Anyway, she took him and Emma in, after they had left their abandoned attic. She provided them a tiny room in her inn above the tavern she ran all by herself. She nursed Emma back to health and he was forever grateful for her help. As was Emma, despite her constant attempts to oppose the old lady on the garments matter.
"Besides" She threw him a red apple, which he caught absentmindedly. "She has Ruby to fuss over now." She bit into hers and Killian noticed there was a basket standing on the other side of the window. He sniffed, trying to determine what Granny had sent him this time.
"Still not getting by?" He asked as he got up to search the basket through.
Emma shrugged.
"I don't blame her. Granny is a tough one and she's…" she paused, searching for the right words to describe her caretaker's granddaughter. She shook her head slightly. "...so like me".
"You mean she is a rebel." Killian smirked at her which earned him another eyeroll.
"I'm not a rebel. I'm just very strong willed." She studied her own nails, looking for some dirt probably. "And I've had more time to adjust to the thought my folks were gone." She abandoned her task and looked out of the window. Looking at the chicken leg he had just dug from the food basket, Killian found he lost his appetite. He sighed. He knew that feeling all too well. The feeling when you discovered you were left alone.
"Anyway." Emma waved her feet in the air. "She is a far worse roommate than you were."
"Oh really?" He arched his eyebrow at her, a teasing smile lingered on his lips.
"Yep." She didn't miss a beat. "She scatters her clothes all over the place and won't clean the room." That adorable frown graced her features once again. "I don't understand why Granny forced you to move out. I liked having you around and you work great as a pillow."
He chuckled at that. His Emma was such a child still.
"Well love, that was precisely the reason I had to move out. It was not appropriate for us to share a bed anymore."
"Why?" She shot him an innocent look and he had to wonder how on earth did she not know that. "It was never a problem before." How was it even possible for her to stay so innocent despite being literally the child of the streets.
Killian felt the tips of his ears growing hot as his hand, seemingly on itself, found a way to the back of his head. He scratched a spot behind his ear - nervous habit, one he had no control over.
"Well...uhm..." He cleared his throat in attempt to gather his thoughts. "Things change." He started. She looked at him, her head tilted, expression doubtful. Why was it so hard to explain it to her. "You are becoming...aaa... a Lady..."
Emma let out a very unladylike snort.
"I am no lady!" She sneered. "And I haven't changed at all!" She pointed an accusing finger on him almost poking him in his chest. "You're the one who did, Mr I'm so grown up now." He opened his mouth to answer her but she just rolled her eyes at him. "Even your voice has changed!"
Killian let out an outraged gasp.
"Hey!" It was his time to point fingers. "That was two winters ago!" A frown appeared on his forehead. He started to feel a little annoyed. "And it wasn't that bad."
"Whatever!" She waved her hand at him as if dismissing him. Not a lady my arse.
"See you tomorrow at dawn?" She chirped, taking him completely by surprise.
That was Emma alright, switching the topic of conversation from one to another, when it had become uncomfortable for her. She smiled at him. A sweet hopeful smile that always distracted him.
Turning his head from side to side, Killian sighed. He could never be mad at her for long or even annoyed. She had an ability to strip down his walls, melt his anger into nothing but a hazy memory.
"Aye. Tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late!" Smiling, he poked the tip of her nose. She rolled her eyes at him again but the smile never left her lips.
"See you!" She blew him a kiss before throwing her legs over the window sill and disappearing in the crowd.
Killian smiled. He hoped she would never change. That she will always be this wonderful girl, strong willed and full of life. Working hard to earn her living but finding time to exercise with him when the sun was barely up.
He loved those meetings, loved the fact that she wanted to be able to defend herself, to remember her origins. She might have been a tavern wench now( or learning to be one) but she wanted to remember her street beginnings, times, when she was a thief. So they kept themselves in shape, mastering survival skills, running, fighting, picking locks even. He was sure Granny would be furious if she knew exactly what they had been doing during these early meetings, as would Master Geppetto, but he loved those precious moments too much to stop. And for few more years they didn't.
Then in the summer before his twentieth winter, something had changed. Emma started to miss their morning sessions. At first he had thought it was because Granny started to pass more responsibilities on her now that she was older, but then she started to miss their rather regular lunch meetings. When she did come, she was overly quiet and distant. He wanted to ask her what had happened but every time he started she gave him the runaround and changed the topic of their conversation.
"Killian?" She asked him once, when he was busy devouring Granny's stew. "Do you think I'm pretty?" He almost choked on his food, spitting it out in attempt to gain control of his breathing. Emma patted him on his back with amused smile.
"Why..." he cleaned his mouth with the linen sleeve of his shirt. "...would you ask me something like this?" It was not a question he had ever though he was going to hear.
"I don't know." She shrugged. "It's just that… People seem to think Ruby is pretty." He looked at her flabbergasted. "I...no one ever says I'm pretty." She dropped her gaze. Her dark eyelashes seemed to kiss the apple of her cheeks as she played with the hem of her skirt.
In that moment Killian realized he hadn't seen her in britches for a while now. No she wore skirts now. Like the one she did today, flowing and pink? Her shirt was much more delicate too with wider sleeves and she wore a corset. A properly laced corset!
He swallowed hard watching as she twirled a lock of her golden hair with her finger. How come he didn't notice she wore it different too? Long gone were the messy braids or high ponytails. A golden cascade fell on her slim shoulders, curling gently at the end. A single half braid kept the strand from falling into her big eyes.
"Killian?" He dropped his head, feeling a heat rising on his face. Suddenly it was very hard for him to find the answer to her question.
"I think...I think you shouldn't care what other people say." He shoved another spoon of stew into his mouth just to do something with his hands. "You never have before," he mumbled while chewing.
"Maybe you are right." Still twirling her hair, she looked out of the window.
She had never mentioned it after that conversation, nor did she resume their early meetings, but the lunch dates started to be more frequent. She never abandoned any of them without telling him sooner. So when one day, after a very important meeting for him she didn't appear in his window, he started to worry.
Killian tried to work a little bit but the noon had come and gone, and Emma still didn't show up. Staring at the blank piece of parchment seemed pointless so he got up from his seat rapidly. The sound of his chair scraping the floor, caused several people, who worked at the shop that day, to turn their heads towards him. Blushing furiously, he mumbled a silent apology and tiptoed into the bright day.
Making his way towards the tavern, he wiped his palms against his work apron. it seemed that lately his fingers were always dirty from charcoal he used most of the day. It didn't want to come off. Rubbing his fingers furiously against the scratchy material with his eyes cast down, he almost didn't notice, he managed to walk most of the distance between his and Emma's work place.
When he looked up, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Emma stood with her hands behind her back, leaning into the pillar by the tavern entrance. Her pink skirt danced with the light breeze. Her hair shone in the afternoon light like purest gold and she was blushing. What struck him the most though was the fact she was not alone.
A boy - no, a man - about his age or maybe older hovered above her. His clothes looked like he had just walked straight out of the tailors shop, pristine and new. Ones of fine quality that only a rich man could afford. His boots shone in the sun. They did not looked new but very well taken care of. The look that could be accomplished only after hours of hard work. His posture screamed confidence. A one born not because of accomplishments. No he saw that one in Master Geppetto. It was the other kind of confidence, the one that was backed by money and birth.
Killian took a few steps forward as an uneasy feeling formed at the pit of his stomach. He didn't like the way that man was looking at Emma. There was something predatory in his gaze, something dangerous. He was sure, he had seen that look before... he just couldn't put a finger on when and where.
Emma giggled at something the man whispered to her, his hand hovering over her face as if he wanted to touch her. Her blush deepened and she tilted her head to her left. Her eyes softened, when she spotted him standing with his mouth hanging agape just a few steps away.
"Killian!" She called out happily. The man's gaze followed hers. There was something familiar in them.
Killian took a few steps towards them when Emma grabbed the man's hand.
"I want you to meet someone." Her eyes shone with excitement and all he could do was smile tentatively back. "This..." Her smile widened as she pointed towards the man by her side. "...is Baelfire."
To be continued...