A/N: I'm baaaacccckkkk. Inset Jack Nicholson creepy face. Anyways, I'm back, but with a different story. That doesn't mean DWD is dead, just that with the angst in the fandom lately, and what is going to happen, I needed something that wasn't quite so draining. Doesn't mean that this won't be angsty, but it will be more like my usual writing than the monster that is DWD. If you check out my Tumblr, slimacwrites, you can see the image I did of this story. I'm very excited to get back into these characters that I so fell in love with when writing In the Key of G. Hopefully I'll soon be able to figure out a regular posting schedule because I do vaguely have the story mapped out.
Warning: Contains mentions of abuse.
Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to Adam and Eddie and ABC.
Emma pushed open the big white door and was greeted by a screeching fire alarm and the smell of something that may at one point have been an apple pie. Whereas most people would run from a house in which every fire alarm was going off and there was a distinct smogginess to the air, Emma just rolled her eyes and let the door swing open wide. This was the Jones Brother's house. If a fire alarm wasn't going off at supper time no one was home.
There was shouting coming from the kitchen so Emma kicked off her boots and padded across the old hardwood floor to the epicentre of the burning located at the end of the entryway hallway. She grabbed a newspaper that sat on the hallway highboy as she passed by, picking her way around Lee's sneakers that were left in the middle of the kitchen doorway.
Liam and Killian stood in the middle of the airy kitchen, yelling over the alarm. Liam waved his arms at the offending machine on the ceiling while Killian was scowling at it and telling Liam to just "pull down the bloody machine already." Lee was no where to be seen but it was probably an apple pie he'd made that the older brother had overcooked. Boys.
Without saying anything Emma shoved the rolled-up newspaper at Liam's chest so he'd stop flapping around like some sort of rabid bird and do something useful, then made her way through the kitchen and living room, throwing open the windows as she went. After a few more beeps the house went silent. Apart from Killian's grumbled curses about the condition of dessert.
"Maybe you should finally learn to set that timer?" Emma asked with a smirk as she entered the kitchen again.
"And deprive you of saving us?" Liam asked with a laugh as he set down the paper. "Never." Liam glanced over at the pie on the oven with an upturn of his nose. "Lee's going to be angry we burnt his pie."
"Lee's used to it by now," Killian answered with a sigh, a hint of sadness clawing at the underbelly of his words that implied thoughts of more than burnt pastry. Emma knew that Killian still battled with the quality of Lee's life. He harboured a lot of guilt over it, both for the care he'd provided and for how relieved he was now that he could just be Killian and not a guardian. Lee was very small for his age, a side effect, the doctors said, from all the trauma and lack of food he had often faced. Killian had recovered better-physically- but Emma knew much of the emotional still existed and often came out as self-depreciation concerning Lee. Emma wasn't really sure how to make it better other than to give him time.
Emma moved over to the pie that was sitting on top of the oven. The top part of the crust was completely singed. Like, full on charcoal. They must have left it in at least a half hour longer than Lee had told them too. But the underside looked okay when Emma tipped up the glass pie plate. It might be salvageable- not to the same condition as before but really, what stayed the same after that kind of traumatic experience? She leaned back and pulled open a nearby drawer, grabbing a knife.
"A little surgery and it will be fine." Emma stuck the tip of the knife into the top crust and started to carve, pulling up the burnt bits as they flaked off. After Emma had finished the pie was ugly but it probably couldn't be used to draw cave paintings any longer. "There. Slap some whip cream on it and it will be fine."
Killian came over to examine it. "You're a lifesaver, love," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. Despite his lighter tone Emma could still feel the tension and disappointment behind his words. Emma leaned back against him, the rough fabric of his work clothes rubbing against her bare arms. He must have been at work late since he was usually home and changed before Emma ever made it out of the studio. The dock tended to close up shop around early evening and Emma, well, she didn't end work until her fingers cramped.
Emma reached down and grabbed for his hand, fingers closing around his prosthetic first but that didn't matter. She held on and dragged him out of the kitchen, back into the hallway and then turned right to go up the wide set of stairs that led to the upper level. Killian followed without complaint, feet quietly swishing on the worn carpet runner.
The house the Jones Brothers occupied was an older white wooden sided, three-bedroom house. It was in the Dorchester neighbourhood of Boston, as close to the water as Liam could afford, but unfortunately about a thirty-minute bus ride from Emma's apartment in the South End which was closer to the Ballet Company. The house had been pretty crappy when the brothers had first moved in but while Liam was terrible at paying attention to the oven, he was pretty handy with other things and in the four years since moving in, it had become a new house. While a lot of the older features still existed, like the slightly warped hardwood flooring and butcher block countertops, the electrical and a good chunk of the drywall had been replaced and with it about three tons of vintage floral wallpaper.
Emma continued to lead Killian into his bedroom, the furthest room from the stairs landing but next to Lee's. It was the first time Killian had had a room to himself permanently since Liam was born. Occasionally he'd have one in whatever apartment his father found to rent but that would often change after the man was caught drinking at work and fired. Especially after the abuse started and Killian took over as guardian, Lee almost never slept in a different room from Killian. It was both for safety and for comfort. Getting Lee used to staying in his own room and not sneaking into Killian's, especially when Emma was also curled under the sheets, had been a challenge. And had definitely ruled out sleeping in any state other than fully clothed. It was an issue they'd mostly conquered at that point so long as Lee didn't have nightmares.
Killian flicked on the bedroom light when Emma finally let go of his hand. The light sputtered a bit, needing to be replaced soon, before illuminating the room. Medium blue walls were hung with pictures, a compensation, Emma knew, from missing a proper family and happy memories for so long. In a set of attached picture frames were pictures Killian had pilfered from Liam's own collection, the images ones of a child Killian with his grinning older brother. The rest of the walls had prints of Killian and Lee at a playground right after Liam had found them, the three brothers on a boat, a few candid shots of his brothers and a spattering of ones that Emma herself was also in. Emma's personal favourite was the one from the opening night of Swan Lake where the three brothers had showed up, all dressed up and carrying flowers as if she were the prima ballerina and not the pianist. It sat on the bedside table next to the double bed.
Emma flopped down on the big bed, the navy duvet practically absorbing her in it's fluff. From her position on the mattress she watched Killian move around the room, first picking up dirty clothing he'd dropped on the floor that morning and then pulling off his own shirt and throwing it all into the laundry basket. The thick straps that went up his arm and over his shoulders from the body-powered prosthesis did nothing to detract from the sight that was a shirtless Killian Jones. It never failed to make Emma feel heat shoot through her, though that quickly turned to pride as she watched him effortlessly slip off the prosthesis. It hadn't always been that way.
"Why the bloody fuck do I need this?" Killian exploded as soon as they got into his bedroom and away from his brothers, yanking at the straps of the prosthetic. Emma didn't flinch, having seen the frustration in his eyes after picking him up from his first physiotherapy appointment. She'd been expecting it.
"You don't," Emma answered, trying to hold in her own anger because it wasn't directed at Killian. It felt like a betrayal for Liam to push the prosthetic on his brother. Killian had been one handed for over a decade and was used to it. Why couldn't his brother be the same? But Liam had that hero-complex, the one where everything needed to be perfect or no one would be happy. It was easy to tell Liam carried guilt about Killian's amputation because he hadn't been there. But that wasn't an excuse to try to make his brother whole with moveable metal hooks and plastic stump casings.
"Liam says it will make life easier. How? I look like Captain Hook now." Emma snorted at that before she could stop herself, earning a glare from Killian.
"Least you don't have a perm," Emma answered.
"Has anyone told you how funny you are?"
"Yeah, it's why I'm a pianist," Emma replied, softer this time. She took a few steps closer to Killian as he tugged at his prosthetic, trying to get it off without any success. Emma raised her brow and Killian nodded with a weary sigh, letting Emma pull the straps over his head and slide the contraption off. She set it on the desk and then pulled off the protective sock covering the stump.
"Killian," Emma murmured, rubbing her hands over the sensitive end of his stump, marvelling slightly at how comfortable he'd become with her near the injury in the year they'd been together. "If you don't want the prosthesis, tell your brother. He needs to see you as whole without the hand. Lee does. I do. And Liam will too when the guilt wears off."
Killian nodded, leaning his head down to rest on Emma's shoulder as she continued to massage his stump like Google had taught her. "Maybe I'll give it a week."
Somewhere along the way, that week had turned into three years and Killian and Liam had come to an understanding about the prosthesis. Killian wore the moveable hook when he was at work because it was better for efficiency and safety but at home it would be left in his room pretty much always. He was just as capable with one hand and eventually Liam had realized that.
Killian continued to get changed, pulling on a worn white t-shirt and a pair of clean jeans, free of oil stains from whatever engine he'd been tinkering at that day. When he was no longer covered in pier dirt he moved over to the bed and laid down beside Emma. The tenseness in his body from downstairs was still there, keeping him stiff beside her. It was the kind of stiffness he had when he felt guilty about something.
"You okay?" Emma asked, snaking her hand down the side of his body to find his fingers. She just brushed them, not taking hold, not wanting to push her luck. Killian didn't answer, just huffed out a long breath. Killian not answering her said more than a no ever could. "Why are you feeling guilty about that pie?"
"I should have been home to get it out. We both know Liam can't cook."
Emma scrunched her forehead, confused. "You were at work late."
Killian shook his head against the pillow, jostling the bed slightly. "I got off on time. But I stayed around to talk to Arthur," Killian said, referring to his slightly annoying mate who worked at the pier with him. "We were chatting football- the proper kind. And then he wanted to plan for us all to go out together. I got distracted and when I got home the whole pie was charred."
Emma got it then. Killian was upset with himself because he'd taken the time to hang out with a friend and because of that Lee's pie had burnt. Even something that seemed so small, like a pie, to Killian was a sign of how much he'd failed his entire life. It was the reason they didn't go on many date nights, the closest they got often being the nights he spent at Emma's place because he wanted to see her and she had been working well into the night. Emma couldn't find it in herself to be upset because Killian had stood by her through so much. Killian battled with taking anything for himself, be it time away from his brother, especially if Lee was home alone, using funds to take classes to become a marine engineer that Lee might need to play sports (not that he did but Killian worried about everything), or choosing time with Emma at the studio over being at the house to clean it.
On the other hand, Emma knew how much Killian craved the freedom, being an adult with his own life and friends. Even four years later, Killian was still exhausted from the caregiving that had stolen his childhood and many years after. When he let himself indulge he was brilliantly happy, going to the pub with Arthur or dancing with Emma. On the nights when Lee was at a sleepover and Killian was free to do as he pleased, he always slept better. He didn't wake up at the slightest sound and often Emma would get up before him, a complete rarity usually, and leave him in bed while she went to work.
Liam worried about the anxiety Killian still struggled with. Emma did too, but where Liam wanted action, wanted Killian to go to therapy or a support group, Emma just thought he needed time. It wasn't that Emma didn't want Killian to go to therapy but she was scared he would see it as one more thing Liam was trying to make perfect in Killian's life to make up for the shit he'd gone through. She didn't want a prosthesis-type fiasco to happen again. It would take years to heal the kind of hurt Killian had gone through, if Emma's own issues were any gauge. But she could see an improvement from the first month of living in Boston. Killian was getting there.
"Killian," Emma told him firmly, rolling onto her stomach so she could look him in the eye. "Lee is happy. The kid loves his life with you two. You're like his heroes. It's okay for you to do things that make you happy too. Spending some time talking to Arthur won't ruin Lee's life." They'd had this conversation before but it seemed like Killian needed reminding.
"I know," Killian replied slowly. "Objectively I know, love."
"But subjectively that doesn't matter." Killian nodded again, finally moving his stiff body to grasp her hand tightly. Emma smiled at that. Progress. "How about this," she started, Killian watching her carefully. "This weekend we're going out with Arthur. No excuses. We're going to have fun. You and I are going to drink a bit too much and dance like we never do. We're going to act like we're twenty-two for once. I'll talk to Liam and convince him to stay home Saturday night to watch Lee."
Killian sighed but this wasn't a guilty one. This was a slightly exasperated, good-natured one. "Alright, love. I know better than to argue with you. Especially when you're freely suggesting we go out with Arthur."
Emma grinned at that. Progress.