December 24, 2009
Emma rubbed her eyes and looked outside the station window. She supposed she could go home now, but what was the point? She was on call for the next couple of days over the holiday while everyone else spent it with their families. Normally, she would have David and Mary Margaret here, but it was their year to visit the latter's parents. And she could hardly fly home to Ingrid and Ruth when it was her first Christmas as Storybrooke's sheriff.
Graham, oh, Graham.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma went to go sit at her desk. Hearing her phone vibrate, she pulled it out of her jacket pocket. Looking down at the screen, she saw that Killian was calling. A bit perplexed, she hurried to answer.
"Jones? What's up? Is everything okay?"
"Swan … -celled… home….right?"
"Killian, I think there's something wrong with the signal. I can't hear you, could you repeat that? Jones?"
The next words coming from her phone, while garbled, were mostly intelligible. It sounded like his flight had been cancelled. Emma winced in sympathy; she knew Killian had been looking forward to visiting Liam and Tink in Ireland. After hanging up and texting David quickly while turning on the weather, she found out he was at the Portland airport, which wasn't allowing any departures.
Emma called Leroy, her newest deputy, to ask him to be on call for the next few hours. While he grumbled over having to leave Astrid alone for the evening, he agreed to come in once Emma promised him he wouldn't have to change out of his flannel...for the next month.
Throwing the chains and her cold weather kit into the back of Mary Margaret's SUV - no way the Bug would make it in this snowstorm - Emma slid into the driver's seat. Sighing, she began the two-hour trek to Portland, strongly suspecting the length of the trip would extend, if the weather was any indication.
Emma was a little puzzled. She and Killian were hardly close. While they hardly hated each other, they simply didn't really interact much. Once upon a time, she had loathed him - one could hardly describe their first meeting as anything but painfully awkward (at best). He'd basically been a drunken asshole. Emma had later learned it was a painful anniversary for him, and no one was at their best remembering the death of their fiancee and a traumatic hand injury. But he'd apologized a couple weeks later, and they'd gotten along fine as maid of honor and best man to Mary Margaret and David at their wedding last year. Things had been smoothed over, but David was the nexus of their communication. Other than barbecues and dinner parties, Emma simply didn't see Killian all that much.
Which is why it was so perplexing that he'd called her. She supposed there weren't too many people left in town. Shrugging, she white-knuckled it the rest of the way as the snow fell harder.
After parking, Emma briskly walked into the lobby. Killian was sitting in one of the chairs, surrounded by his luggage, head in his hands.
"Hey, Jones!"
Exhaustion and relief shone in those forget-me-not eyes. "Swan, thank you so much for the dashing rescue. It seems that everyone else is away…"
Waving his explanation away, she led him out to the SUV. "I hope you don't mind if we stop for coffee. I'll fall asleep at the wheel if I don't get some caffeine in me."
"No problem. I could use something as well. Wouldn't want to fall asleep on my savior during a long drive." He made a valiant attempt at a wink.
Emma snorted and rolled her eyes.
After buying their coffee and getting back on the road, both Killian and Emma retreated back into themselves. Awkwardness and contemplation competed for control of Emma's thoughts. Deciding to make what would probably turn into a four hour drive less dull, she cleared her throat.
"So...sorry about your flight getting cancelled. How was the, er, airport?"
Killian snorted and rolled his eyes, in strange role reversal. "That difficult to come up with topics, eh, Swan?"
"Well, we can hardly talk about the weather since that's kind of obvious," Emma raised one lightly teasing eyebrow. "And since we can't rely on portals or anything to magically transport us back to Storybrooke, I figured I'd try some breaking the silence."
"I have faith in your conversational skills, lass, though I apologize. I don't think I'm very good company right now."
So, awkward silence it was. Taking a sip of her coffee, Emma turned back to face the road.
"I'm sorry, Emma. I know Dave has told you what this day is to me. And I just...I'd hoped today would be better. I was going to be with my brother and my sister-in-law, and I was going to meet my brand new nephew. I know it's been seven years and your pain is fresh, but…"
"I- Killian, seriously don't worry about it. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I was worried you'd think the awkwardness was worse. I know we're not close or anything, so I get it."
Silence reigned for a couple moments. Emma thought he had decided the conversation was over, until he sighed and smiled the tiniest bit.
"Lass, if you wanted to be closer to me you need only have asked."
"Oh, good lord."
"Now, in all seriousness, I know what we should do. It will address both the issues of boredom and us not being close."
Emma shook her head, smiling, keeping her eyes on the road. "And what's that?"
"Road trip games."
The only response was a loud groan.
Three hours, one aborted game of I Spy, two full games of 20 questions, an unsettling few games of Would You Rather, and seven padiddles later, Emma pulled up in front of Killian's apartment building.
"Well, lass, this is me. Thank you for the ride from Portland and the good company. I owe you a friendly dinner at some point."
"Please, don't worry about it."
"I saw how nervous the roads were making you. You deserve something to make up for fetching your now-friend from a land far away."
"Right now all I need is alcohol," Emma laughed.
"Er, if you're not in a particular rush to get home, I do believe I have that magical elixir known as booze inside my very own apartment."
It suddenly clicked for Emma. Killian was lonely. Spending the holidays alone was rough enough, but he'd lost Milah seven years ago. And he thought he'd be able to be distracted by the balm of family. Instead, he'd ended up stuck in Maine until the 26th when he'd hopefully be able to catch the flight he'd been re-booked for. The last thing he probably wanted was to be alone.
And Emma could definitely understand that.
Realizing she'd been staring mutely at him from the driver's seat, she finally nodded. "Sure. Though please tell me it isn't just a giant bottle of rum."
"Don't impugn my rum! But yes, I believe I may have some whiskey."
"Mmm, my favorite."
"So I've heard. Now, let's get inside before we freeze to death, lass."
Once they were inside, Killian poured a tumbler of rum for himself and one of whiskey for Emma.
"So, Lady Swan, do you have any exciting plans for tomorrow?"
"Nope. Plan-free. I'm on call, though I doubt much will go on."
"Small town and all, yeah. No opening of presents or watching that imposter of a game you Yanks call football?"
"It's better than soccer. But no, I already opened gifts with David and Mary Margaret, and I opened Ingrid's and Ruth's on the phone with them a few days ago. I usually just eat Chinese food when I spend Christmas by myself."
Killian nodded, then became serious. "I'm sorry, you know. About Humbert...Graham was a good fellow, and I know you intended to spend the holiday with him. I just- I'm sorry."
Emma's eyes began to water. Must be tired to be crying in front of someone, she thought unhappily. "I'm sorry, I'm crying. I can leave-"
"Please don't...it's Christmas Eve, and-" Killian's voice was suddenly shaky.
Eyes still shining with tears, Emma lowered herself back onto the couch. Grabbing her drink and preparing down it, she saw Killian doing the same.
"We only had six weeks together, and it's just not fair." Another shot of whiskey.
"Aye, lass, that is monstrously unfair. I thought it was longer, but it's never enough time with the ones you love." He reached over and paused before patting her shoulder.
"I didn't even have time to figure out if it was love," Emma's voice broke. "I'm sorry, I know you lost your fiancee-"
"Seven years ago. And, lass, it's not a contest of pain. My loss of Milah doesn't mean you losing Graham hurts less." He poured himself another shot of rum.
"No, I guess it doesn't." After sitting silently and composing herself, she broke the not entirely unpeaceful quiet that had settled between her and Killian. "Your hand seems better than it was when we met."
"Aye. Two more years of the blasted hand exercises I have to do have helped."
"Oh."
Killian scratched behind his ear and poured both of them another round. "It'll probably never get much better than this, but my hand gets stiff if I don't continue the stretches."
"Can't have that. The ladies would be horribly disappointed." Emma reddened and looked horrified. The words had just seemed to tumble out of her.
The bastard just smirked. "And that would indeed be tragic. But alas, I find myself alone and without the attentions of some fair maiden."
Emma nodded, before quickly whipping her head around to look at him. "Wait! I thought you and Ruby were together?"
"Ah. Yes, well, the lovely Miss Lucas and I decided to part ways recently. Something about me being a brooding arsehole and her having met a successful young doctor..."
"Oh, god, I need to stop talking. I'm so sorry, I keep putting my foot in my mouth." She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.
"Swan, don't worry about it for even a moment." She peeked at him from between her fingers. "Truth be told, Ruby and I were much better as friends. It was primarily physical anyway." It was Killian's turn to look flabbergasted by his own words, and he stared at the half-empty bottle of rum accusingly.
Emma started laughing. "Ruby does have a certain physicality to her, doesn't she?"
"Emma Swan, what are you saying?"
"Well, Jones, you aren't the first one in this town Ruby's turned to with her, er, needs."
Looking shocked, Killian raised an eyebrow. He seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. "Swan, does this make us - what is the phrase - eskimo siblings?"
Giggling in earnest, she replied, "I think it does."
Killian snorted, and then joined her in laughing. "How did that happen? Pardon me, but I wasn't under the impression that you were, er-"
"Hey buddy, my interests are my own!" She dramatically pointed a finger at him. "Besides, it was more of a one-time thing. There was alcohol and loneliness, and one thing led to another."
Killian sat back, looking awkwardly between them. Mistaking his air of discomfort, Emma slurred after a few minutes, "Oh, don't worry. It was ages ago, almost a year ago. Looonnnnng before you two got together."
He smiled a little, relief and - what was that? - maybe disappointment. Glancing over, he saw her eyes growing heavy. He yawned; it was rather late and had been an emotional day. Pulling the blanket from the top of the couch, Killian spread it over Emma's legs and his own once he settled at the other end of the sofa.
"Killian? Thanks. For the drinks and the blanket."
"S' no problem, Emma. G'night," he managed before he dozed off too.
Emma awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon. Her mouth felt cottony and her head ached a bit, but she seemed to have escaped a hangover relatively unscathed. She looked into the kitchen where Killian stood at the stove.
He must have heard her stirring, as he turned to greet her. "Good morning, sunshine!"
Her only answer was an unintelligible growl. She pointed at the coffee and grunted. Killian grinned while he poured her a cup. She got up to take it from him. After she finished her cup maybe 15 minutes later, she finally spoke. "Thanks for the coffee. Also, how the hell are you not hungover?"
He laughed. "I imagine you don't normally drink that much? Nor do I anymore, but I did take a couple ibuprofen. You can have a couple if you need. And...here's the bacon!"
Emma snatched a couple slices from the plate. Consuming those quickly, she got up and refilled her coffee. "Thanks for the company and drinks, Jones. And for the couch."
"Anytime, Swan. Just try not to drink all my whiskey next time, eh?"
A roll of the eyes was all he got in response. She made a motion to exit the apartment. Hand on the doorknob, she turned back to Killian. "Do you want to come over later? I'm getting takeout Chinese food, and it would be nice to have someone to share it with."
Killian looked puzzled for a moment, as her words had tumbled out at almost incomprehensible, break-neck speed. Then he smiled that brilliant smile of his, and Emma felt something in her chest tighten. "Certainly, Swan. I suppose Chinese food is an acceptable Christmas meal."
Emma smiled back. "See you at five, then."