Urge flows through Killian Jones to leave the group chat he's been put in - it's quite an overwhelming urge as well. They're not discussing something he's particularly fond with, and it's far too obvious for him to understand all of his friends antics. They're attempting to get Killian to go out and find a date, to move past some of his old heartbreak from five years ago. However, he finds that difficult because it wasn't just any heartbreak, it was one of those earth-shattering ones, the ones which are painful, and the wound tends to linger for so long he's never even considered about moving on in the first place. But then again, his mates always bring it up at some point, whether it's intentional or not.
The thunder rumbling outside, for it's an oddly different sort of weather out here in Storybrooke today. It's one of those hit and miss weather forecasts, but tonight is one of those wild exceptions. It's a downfall of pouring rain outside, the weather is quite dark and gloomy, and all he hears is the pitter-patter of rain hitting his window. The wind outside is also quite a change, the loud, howling sounds echoing and muffled. Lightning briefly flashes for the merest second, his dark living room of his modern, small apartment being litten up for the slightest moment.
It's one of those days; those nights.
Messages light up on his phone screen, but knowing exactly who they're coming from, he refuses to pick it up and slide his finger across the screen to unlock it. Well, it's not until there's an incoming phone call, which isn't exactly from any of his friends, but his partner from work. You see, he works for the Storybrooke Police, being an investigator of the sorts, much like the deputy to the sheriff.
Quickly grabbing his phone and answering the call, the familiar feminine voice shines through. The winds outside are still going crazy, the rather loud wailing and high-pitched noises frequently making itself present in the sudden weather.
"Hello, Swan," he greets, pulling his curtain back to glance out the window of his living room. Weather is not very cooperative today, and because it's quite atrocious out there, he's not very keen on going outside. "To what do I owe the pleasure tonight, lass?"
"You're seeing the weather out there, right?" she asks.
He nods, even though she can't see it. "Aye, it's quite the sudden change," he responds, backing away from the window and pulling the curtain back. He reaches over to flick the light on, finally lighting his room properly, no longer being in the dark. "What of it?" He settles back comfortably onto the couch, kicking his feet up over the arm.
A sigh is what he hears from her. "I'm going to need you to come in as soon as this storm subsides so we can evaluate how much damage has been caused." There's a ruffle of footsteps from her. "I don't think you, David, or I will get any rest for the next day or two because of this. Was this sudden storm even broadcasted on the weather report?"
"From what I remember, no, it was not reported accurately, not to this extent of course." He eyes the window before he drags his gaze back to the wooden door of the entrance across from him. "They had said the least of the storm would affect us here, but clearly, that is not a very true statement now."
The thing about Emma Swan is that she's one of the most stubborn women he's ever encountered before. Nevertheless, she's a brilliant lass, and tough too, so this job she's procured herself fits her quite well. Besides her being a stubborn arse similar to how he is - and even his brother, Liam - Emma is quite the ambitious and intellectual for who she is.
"Alright, well I just needed to call to tell you of our plans for tomorrow morning," she says. "Coffee tomorrow morning as the usual?"
He smiles to himself, knowing he still keeps his coffee routine up with her. "Aye, as the lady wishes."
"Still incorrigible as usual, Jones." She yawns. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good night, Swan," he wishes right before her side of the call hangs up. As the screen flashes out of call mode, he takes in the fact that it's nearing midnight and that he should probably head to bed so he can wake up early to deal with all the longing commotion that is building up for tomorrow morning.
And so, that's exactly what he does. Turning the lights off, the darkness following him down the hallway to the washroom, and then the bedroom, he gathers himself together and heads to get his rest. Though the sound of thunder never stops roaring like a lion, which makes it rather difficult for him to fall asleep, but as the storm calms down for a short period of time, it gives him the perfect opening to finally drift away into a deep, required slumber.
When morning rises, long awaited sunshine floods through the curtains, the faint light warming his skin gently. His hair is a complete mess, probably from tossing and turning to the inconstant reminder of Milah being gone from his life, the lingering heartbreak of pain which resides deep inside the chambers of his heart. Through a wave of frustration, he brings his hand up and scrubs his face, which ends up going through his hair, tousling it into an even larger mess.
The red numbers on the bedside table say it's 6:39AM, and he's hardly ready to deal with driving around and speculating on reparations that need to be made. It's just with a huff of a breath being blown out when he finally does urge himself out of the bed. It's a quick get ready thing, going through a change of his clothes, grabbing his wallet and phone, and then he's out the door. The damage is quite mind blowing, but not exactly unexpected when he takes two steps out of the apartment.
Pavement grounds have still yet to dry, there are branches and leaves everywhere, some signs destroyed and sprawled across the streets and properties, and even car damage to windows.
A quick drop-by at Granny's leaves him smiling again, Ruby serving him the usual two cups of dark black coffee, freshly prepared just as the norm. When he steps back outside, the breeze makes him shiver as he adjusts to the sudden change in temperature from the insides to the out. He spots the familiar yellow VW bug parked outside the station, which means she's already arrived. He greets her and she glances up from the rather outdated computer sitting on the table.
"Coffee for two," he states, handing her a cup.
She nods curtly, flashing a short, soft smile. "Thanks, Jones."
He leers over at the monitor, and it's downloading some files which he most likely recognizes himself. "Security feed, I gather?" he asks, taking a sip from his caffeinated drink. "There mustn't be anything pleasant on these recordings if we're to watch them anytime soon."
"Yeah. But in case we miss out on surveying anything, I have a backup plan," she answers cooly, leaning back in the chair and sighing. "David's coming by later today because he needs to deal with the Mayor. Let's get going."
Of course the remainder of the morning is complaints from store owners and residents. It's insufferable really, he's not the most patient when it comes to people throwing their shit at him, but it's his job, and what Emma says and does, he has to follow anyways.
They've been partners for two years now. Ever since Milah, it had taken him two years to finally build himself up to find another job, somewhere out of Boston and the city life. Although Storybrooke wasn't his ideal place at first, it's slowly grown on him, seeping into his skin as it's slowly becoming a silhouette of a home to him. Home. There's nothing here that really reminds him of his first home in England besides the fact there's a local docks which he tends to hang out by when he gets the chance to. Watching the tides go against the wooden planks, fishermen's ships going in and out of port. It just reminds him of England. Where Liam and his wife Elsa is.
Gods, his brother; always one to be as stubborn as he can be. A suckup in most cases, doing everything as told before he decided to retire from the Navy earlier; after meeting Elsa. Of course he's happy for his older brother, the man who had raised him from a young lad. But being so far apart, split by the seas and riptides, he doesn't get to visit often. Only phone calls and Skype manages to substitute in for the lack of actual confrontation in real life.
The mood between him and Emma changes quite rapidly, neither to their liking. Soon, both of them need to let out frustration, and thank the damned that it's the end of their shifts for the day. David takes over for the remainder of the day. However, the grey skies are clouding over again, the fog becoming a light surrounding in the town. The weather never stops to cease and amaze him at just how frequent it changes. He nods and says his farewell to Emma for the night. Sticking his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket, he strides back to his apartment, back to the comfort of his own little residence.
"Killian Jones," he introduces himself, taking her handshake. It's firm, it sends a shiver down his spine because he can see the determination, devotion. He can see right through her, read her simply like she's an open book. The gumption of hers amazes him, it's actually quite fascinating. "Swan is a very befitting name for you, m'lady."
"Hard to find people like you around here nowadays," Emma simply states, her eyes glimmering with that green. "How long have you been in the US?"
"I'd say eight years, give or take a few months," he answers honestly, though he doesn't exactly recall much from his beginnings, his new fresh start here in America. Just knows he studied law enforcement, had a group of douche friends who bother him often, and that now he lives here in Storybrooke, Maine with a job opportunity he has taken a major advantage over. "Not in any means of disrespect, lass, but why'd you ask?"
"It's called getting to know my partner," she replies in a lighthearted tone. "How good are you with putting pieces of evidence together?"
"I'd wager I'm quite capable of doing so, but that would just be me making an educated guess. If you consider positively passing with a high mark back in college good, then perhaps I may just suffice enough for what you need me of." He chuckles, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "How can I be of assistance on my first day, Swan?"
"Ah, so we go for surnames."
"I told you, it sounds well on you."
"Well, let's get to work, Jones. Storybrooke is a quaint town, and there's usually not a lot of crimes circling around town, so it won't be too difficult of a job to handle," she explains, reaching for the jacket slung over her chair. It's red and leather. It fits her. "For one, you're new around here, so I think what's best is that I show you around first. How does that sound? We can deal with actual business tomorrow."
"Sounds swell, lass."
Here comes another round of rum for him, swirling his glass as he perches on the edge of his bed, remembering some rather interesting things.
His phone is a constant reminder. The messages popping up all from Robin and Will, and eventually some show up as Victor's. Robin and Will are still in Boston, but Victor had ended up in Storybrooke with him, being the new doctor at the main hospital in the small town. But that's besides the point. The point is that his friends have been trying to get him back into dating for years now, and it's been endless amounts of texts and a couple of short-lasting phone calls.
Five years since Milah had left, it left him that empty void in his heart, a calling of darkness and echoes, nothing more than familiar voices and a sting of pain. It was a too-good-to-be-true relationship, she had been ripped away from him. The spelling out of her name in his brain hurts to even think about, so he takes another swig at the rum which helps the pain numb. It never really does solve anything permanently of course, but sometimes he wonders what would happen if he does open up his heart again. What would happen if he does give his heart to another woman one day? More pain, for one, but what about love? Right now, he's staying on guard.
It's late for him, but he snaps his laptop open and goes on Skype to talk to Liam. They talk and talk, about the stupid things, the good memories… and then he asks Liam how Elsa's doing. It's a big surprise, but she's pregnant, and that mean's his dear brother is becoming a father, and he's becoming an uncle. Killian is beyond ecstatic and excited for his brother, but the happiness and bond between them makes him suffer to know he'll never truly have that.
And then his brother asks if he's looking for anyone, and of course, he lets him down and says "not at the moment," which should give his brother some hope. False hope, at the most. "I'll look for a woman on my own time, brother," he states, shaking his head lightly.
"It's been five years, little brother. Moving on will make it better, that I can promise you. Has your brother broken a promise before?"
"Younger brother, Liam. And actually, aye, you have broken a promise before."
"That was a one time thing, Killian. I hadn't realized until you actually told me because I was sloshed off my own arse!" Liam exclaims, his lips curling into a smile, and then it turns into an entire laugh. "You know I just want you to be happy."
"I've been told many a times," he deadpans as a response, raking a hand through his hair. "I can assure you I'm perfectly happy with what I currently have," he says, "because life here in Storybrooke has been quite the adventure, even with the little crime here."
Liam sighs and then yawns. "Whatever you say. Anyways, I think it's time I go get ready for work."
"Ah yes. Boating business going well? And send my regards to Elsa," he says, "I'll be seeing you later."
"Has been going exceptionally well," Liam answers, "and absolutely. Bye, little brother."
The Skype call ends on that note, leaving Killian to notice it's well past midnight and that he should be sleeping. Getting up, he sets the laptop back on his small desk, and goes to dispose of his empty glass. Leaving England was always a difficult decision, but he had needed it more than anything, to finally find something he was interested in doing. When he had chosen law enforcement, he hadn't nearly predicted for himself to actually excel at the entire branch, but he did, and now he has a stable job with decent income which he definitely isn't complaining about.
And do not get him started on his talented partner, Emma Swan. She is beautiful, and a hard working person, and he acknowledges her for the work she does around Storybrooke. Given that it's a small town, almost everyone tends to know who you are, especially if you're more of authority than a regular resident in town. He can take one step into Granny's and everyone will greet him. He doesn't mind this recognition though, he's rather grown fond and used to it already.
The next day just consists of cleanup duty, and the weather has started to warm up again. And this time the weather is not going to have another outburst of some thunder or rainstorm. He shrugs his leather jacket off and throws it on the roof of the cruiser, rolls his sleeves up on his shirt and gets down to business. It's picking up destroyed branches that block the road, throwing them in the garbage or to the side of the road. He can't even keep track the number of times he's already had to bend down and chuck spoke branches away. Overnight damage always proves to be horrendous to deal with.
His senses never betray him though, he knows when someone is watching him intently,and just like that, he realizes Emma is watching him from a distance. "See something you like, Swan?" he boldly asks, throwing away one last branch for this road. "You are not very subtle, take that as some advice."
"Assessing your progress," she responds, shaking her head with a small smile. "But I'd be lying if I said you don't look attractive doing all this work." She leans against the car. "That reminds me... I've never seen you around with another woman. You're wasting your good looks, Jones; put it to use."
"Are you insisting that I get a girlfriend?" He scoffs, taking steps closer toward her until they're inches apart. "If you think I'm so devilishly handsome, why don't you have a boyfriend? You're beautiful of course, any man to ever refuse you must be bloody daft." He smirks cocking his eyebrow at her. "You're wasting your good looks, Swan; put it to use." Steering the conversation away is the only way he's going to survive this, because although he can claim her as a friend, he's never considered telling her about his previous heartbreak. It's never really came across his mind before.
"I can't tell if you're brave or stupid for talking to your boss like that," she mutters, rolling her eyes at his response.
He grins and shrugs. "I'd wonder what's the difference between the two," he says. Killian leans in, his lips next to her ears. "Besides, Dave is more of my boss, not you," he drawls, teasing her patience with his ways. Now, one thing he's learned is that he quite enjoys torturing her, because according to her, he's infuriating and annoying sometimes. He finds joy in her dramatic suffering.
"I'm the one who hired you, I think that sets a fine line between who can be your boss," she declares, placing a hand on his chest and shoving him away. "How many times do I need to tell you to keep your distance from me? I don't want people thinking we're together." It's a broad statement, she's said it many times before, but he just doesn't care.
"Swan, besides the lot of time we spend together at work, we rarely see each other otherwise. No one would be that quick and incompetent to assume we're dating," he protests, cocking his head to the side. "Does it bother you that much to where you can't be seen around me? Oh, or is it because of my dashing features? Unable to resist me?" he goes on, provoking her in any possible, vulnerable way just to get on her nerves.
She curses something under her breath. "W-what, you're ridiculous," she mumbles, closing her eyes.
Her stuttering nervousness surprises him. He chuckles. "You didn't answer my question, so I'll just assume you do find me hard to resist." He throws his arms behind his head and leans back against the car, looking up at the sky. "What a wonderful thought to spare in my mind, lass."
Bloody buggering hell, he thinks as his phone vibrates in his pocket, shocking him from the moment. He's already stacking up the three name, expecting it to be one from the list. Of course, it's from Robin, so he excuses himself from Emma, and saunters off a fair distance before he answers the phone.
"I'm at work, mate," he tells Robin, which is more like a reminder. "What do you want?"
"Just checking up on my friend, is that an issue?" Robin retaliates.
Killian laughs bitterly, knowing exactly what that means when he says 'checking up on my friend' because it's not as casual as most people expect it to be. "Very much of an issue when it's not check about a casual check up, Robin. You're horrid at telling lies," Killian says, leaning against one of the buildings. "Is this about me getting a girlfriend now?"
"No, not today."
"Then what exactly has pulled you into calling me today?"
"Are you happy with where you are right now? As in Storybrooke, your job and such, are you enjoying your life there?"
Killian blows out a breath with his answer of, "Aye, I am."
"That's relieving," Robin responds. "Anyways, didn't you say your boss is a woman?"
"Robin, bloody hell! She's my partner in justice, not some crush. We keep it professional," Killian exclaims, rubbing his face with his hand. Usually professional, he thinks.
"But you've talked about her before!" That is not Robin's voice, it's… Will Scarlet. The drunkard of the entire group. "You like her, mate! The blonde, ey?"
"I am not having such an inappropriate conversation now, I was humbly working before this phone call had interrupted me, nor am I oblivious to the constant fact that you're still trying to get me to date again." He sighs, glancing over to where Emma is talking to a newly-arrived David, the Sheriff. "It's been pleasant having a talk with you mates, but I must get back to work."
"This conversation isn't over, ya wanker!" Will shouts.
"Sod off." And with that, he hangs up the call, sticks his phone back into his jeans pocket and walks back toward the two figures by the car.
"Important phone call?" Emma asks, glaring at him.
Concealing his secrets, he shakes his head. "Nothing of the sorts - friends who are an absolute pain in the arse if you want specifics."
David chuckles. "Well, let's get back to work. We have a thief on the loose apparently."
Emma looks at him like she's surprised. "A thief?"
"Don't ask me. It was reported earlier this morning while you guys were cleaning."
Killian grabs his jacket off the hood of the car. "I don't mean to be a snob and take all the lovely credit, but there's a correction to be made to your statement Dave - while I was cleaning."