It'd been a year. Emma sat at her vanity and allowed a tear to escape unchecked. She grasped at the necklace, laden with his pendants, which lay between her breasts, always, save for when she showered. They were the only pieces of him that she had left. Come back to me. A year to the day, and she was just as destroyed as the day David had come to her and told her that their friend, her partner, her lover, was gone… forever.
He'd been on a hike with their friends when it happened. Having come down with a bug and barely able to get out of bed, Emma had stayed behind. She'd told Killian to go, with standing orders to have fun and not worry about her.
One year ago…
"Here Swan, keep my necklace safe, I wouldn't want to lose it gallivanting around the woods."
She rolled her eyes, but let him fasten it around her neck. "You wear more jewelry than I do, Jones."
"I hope to remedy that one day soon," he whispered, then grabbed her left hand and placed a soft kiss on her ring finger.
She fingered through the pendants that laid against her heart. They were the match to the ones she wore around her wrist. "In the meantime we have pieces of us right here."
In hindsight she wishes she would have been selfish, asked him to stay by her side, but that had never been Emma's style.
All David could say was it came out of nowhere, and by it, they weren't even sure. Killian was there one moment, and gone the next. The screams that echoed through the forest as whatever beast pulled him away, had put Mary Margaret in the hospital for almost a month. She wouldn't eat or talk. When she finally came out of the semi catatonic state she'd told Emma only that she was sorry, but that she couldn't talk about it.
Emma still held out hope. Hope that one day he would just magically come back. He would show up on their doorstep, all smiles, wit, and cocksure. Lately though she had started to go downhill. Her hope was fading, and it was taking a toll on her health. She was always tired, she didn't have an appetite, and she was pretty sure she was starting to hallucinate.
Since he'd been gone, Emma had always felt his presence at her crime scenes, she chalked it up to the fact that he'd been her partner in that regard as well. It was just another sign of missing him. But now, she'd swear she'd seen Killian at her last three crime scenes. It was as if he haunted her, challenging her to solve the case without him. I must be losing my mind.
Last month…
"This is the fourth one, David. It can't be a coincidence."
"Maybe you're just lucky?"
"I'm serious, it's beyond fucking eerie that the lead suspect in each of my cases is turning up dead within weeks of their crime."
"Are you trying to make a confession?" David deadpanned. "You a serial killer, Emma?"
"Please, this would make me a hero, not a killer. These perps were all wanted for murder."
Looking up toward David, she got an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Sometimes she missed Killian at the oddest moments, like here, now, looking at a dead body in an alleyway. She glanced around the surrounding area, looking for anyone sticking out in the crowd. She knew that sometimes killers liked to hang around to admire their handiwork.
That's when she spotted him.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she staggered as she stood up. Emma placed her hands on her knees, trying to stop the swaying, perhaps she'd been squatting too long, and the blood rushing to her head was throwing off her equilibrium. Looking up again to the place she'd seen him, she fully expected to find the dark corner empty, but there he stood, stock still, dressed in all black, like the darkness itself. He had a longing in his eyes, one that she was sure she was projecting into her hallucination, for the dead didn't long. Did they? It was she that longed.
"Killian," she mumbled reaching her hand out.
"Emma?" David questioned.
The dizziness took full hold of her then as the night sky started to rush backward. Backward? That was the last conscious thought she had before smacking her head on the unforgiving asphalt and passing out.
"Emma!" a hollow voice called out.
He'd been right there, piercing blue eyes, pleading with her as though she'd left him. Opening her eyes, Emma tried to reconcile where she was, but the vivid color of blue still swam in her mind. "You left me, that means you have to come back to me."
"Alright, I'm taking her to the E.R., she smacked her head pretty hard."
"What? No, I'm fine," she argued with David, finally coming out of the haze. And although she felt fine where her faculties were concerned, her heart was ripping in half once again. Just like it did every time her mind played tricks on her.
"No arguments. We need to get you checked out."
"David," Emma pleaded, but one glance at his signature dad look and his hands on his hips and Emma gave up. She didn't have a battle of the wills in her right now. "Fine, whatever." She retreated inside herself after acquiescing to David's check up.
Sitting in the front of the squad car Emma remembered back to a time when it was Killian and her solving these crimes together. Tears came unbidden, and she huffed at the ability Killian Jones still had to make her feel every array of emotion.
Bless David, for he hadn't said a word. The drive was quiet, no music, no talking, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of images and memories that even the silence brought.
"We're here."
Climbing out of her seat she dragged her feet, following behind David. Once inside the E.R., the barrage of noise rattled her into awareness again. She glanced around the room seeing a crowd that could rival a Florida beach during spring break. "No fucking way, Nolan. I'm fine, I'm not spending the unforeseeable future in this place."
Emma stomped off, muttering to herself the whole way. "I'm fine. Nothing that rum, a few tears, and a good night's rest can't cure."
David rushed after her and reluctantly took her home. He ran a concussion check on her, made her promise no booze, and then left her to her own devices. She had of course drank a pirate's share of rum, and then curled up where she had every night since he'd disappeared - the couch, and cried herself to sleep.
That hadn't been the only time she'd seen him though. Over the past four months she'd started to hallucinate him more and more. She was starting to worry that she was going to end up losing it altogether, create some alternate reality where it was just her and Killian.
Standing up from her vanity she stared at herself in the mirror. She was pale, not unusual for folks in Maine, but her pallor was almost sickly, and she had permanent dark rings surrounding her eyes. She'd lost weight, and it was never more apparent than when standing in front of her mirror clad in nothing more than a black bra and panty set.
A small sob escaped her throat as she thought of the fact that Killian would never touch her again, never worship her body again. No one ever would, not for lack of trying either. Humbert and Walsh had been sniffing around lately, subtly testing the waters to see if she was on the market. She wasn't interested, didn't want anyone if she couldn't have Killian. Another sob escaped her and soon she was a blubbering mess. Emma wasn't sure if it was more worrisome that this was still happening a year later, or that she was accustomed to it as if it were part of her daily routine.
Wrapping her arms around her middle she walked to her closet. She felt shittier than ever today, not that she expected any less. It was the one year anniversary of the disappearance of the love of her life. After slipping on a pair of black leggings and a black blouse, she pushed her feet into her boots, threw on her jacket, then trudged to her front door.
Six months ago…
"We've covered every damn inch of that forest!"
"No we haven't!"
"Look at the map, Emma. Look at it!" he'd yelled in frustration.
"I am looking at it," she seethed. "It's wrong, we haven't looked everywhere."
David took a deep, deep breath, counted to ten, rubbed his hands over his face and reset. "Okay, where haven't we looked?" His voice was now serenely calm as he took a moment to think of how he'd be acting if the situation was reversed. If Mary Margaret was the one who'd been taken.
"Here," Emma answered, jabbing her pointer finger down on the map.
Ironically enough, the part she was pointing to hadn't been searched. Not because they hadn't thoroughly scoured the wooded area surrounding Killian's disappearance, but because it didn't exist. It was on the map, but no one had ever seen it.
"Emma, we talked about this, there is nothing here," he said, indicating the area she was referring to. "It's called Cartographer's Bluff, because the cartographer's got it wrong.
"There has to be something. There has to be. If there's nothing else, then that means that… it means that…" her voice trailed off as she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.
"He's gone," David whispered.
Emma buried her face in her hands. "No," she cried quietly. "He can't be gone. He can't be." She felt David's arms embrace her and she slumped against him. "I need him."
Grabbing her purse and keys she headed out to her car. His car. One of Killian's pride and joys, his black 1967 Chevy Camaro. It was sexy, loud, and breathtaking, just like him. It never failed to amaze her that each time she opened up the car it still smelled as strongly of Killian as it had when he'd still driven it. Inhaling deeply she slumped down into the seat, today was going to be harder than she thought. She started up the car and chuckled as she thought about how Killian would always liken the engine to the purr of a cat, she revved it once, a large cat no doubt.
Ten months ago…
"It's too soon, Detective Swan," Captain Nemo told her.
"But Captain, I have a new lead in Belle Gold's murder case."
"I thought I told you to ease back into it. Why are you already back in homicide working a case."
"Because it's what I do. It's my job. Now can I tell you what I've got?"
Nemo nodded his head. He knew when to stand down.
"It was her stepson, he killed her because his inheritance was being threatened. And what's more, I think he might've killed his father too, not realizing the old man had already changed his will."
"Where'd you get this information?" he asked as she handed over documentation of Robert Gold's last will and testament.
The real estate mogul had died last month of what had appeared to be natural causes. However, once the remains of his widowed wife had turned up at the bottom of a ravine in a car with the brake lines obviously cut, Gold's body had been ordered exhumed for an autopsy.
"I requested the will from Gold's lawyer as soon as I was put on the wife's murder case. They just showed up." She hoped her captain wouldn't read too much into her choice of words, for they really had just shown up. In the front seat of the Camaro. She didn't remember bringing any work home from the office, yet there they'd sat in an unmarked envelope on the passenger seat.
Pulling up to the station she popped open her umbrella and jogged to the front entrance. The coffee kiosk was set up to the side as usual and a young couple was ordering. They were arm in arm, laughing and joking, and she was reminded of coffee with Killian, running late to work after late nights spent together.
Usually he'd bring her coffee in bed in the mornings, but on those nights when they'd needed each other again and again, they'd overslept every once in a while. Those mornings they would grab a coffee here, they'd been the couple arm in arm, laughing and teasing. Everyone in the office knew they were stupid in love before they even had. No one had ever dared to question it, and therefore Killian and Emma had never needed to hide their relationship.
Growing up, Emma had never thought she would have the life she had just a little over a year ago. She'd been abandoned in the foster care system, bounced around from home to home. As soon as she could, she'd left, she'd joined the police force, kept her head down and her nose clean. She'd worked hard, and eventually a transfer from Boston to Portland, Maine had gotten her the promotion to detective she had been chasing.
Upon arriving she'd met the sweetest couple in the world. They were possibly right out of a fairy tale. David and Mary Margaret Nolan had become more like family than anyone she'd ever known. She was paired with another new transfer, Killian Jones. They were the epitome of a thin line between love and hate for just a few short months before they'd finally cut the sexual tension by hooking up in the backseat of his beloved Camaro. It was all Emma had allowed at first, but it wasn't long before even she knew that Cupid had definitely shot her ass full of arrows. They'd moved in after six months of fighting, fucking, and fraternizing. It was bliss.
Shaking her head, she reluctantly extricated herself from the nostalgic haze she found herself in today. Pulling open the door, she plastered on her work face. Not a smile, not a scowl… just business.
"Morning Detective Swan," Humbert greeted her, handing her a coffee.
Emma recoiled as though it were poison, and though it wasn't, it also wasn't from Killian. "No thanks, I um, I already had my morning fix." Truth be told the thought of Graham's coffee was physically repulsing her right now.
"Alright," he said, setting the cup down on a nearby counter and continuing to follow her toward her desk. "Mary Margaret wants to see you. She said she found something interesting on the latest victim."
"Ok, I'll go see her in a bit."
"Hey, Emma?"
Emma set her belongings on her desk and looked up at the questioning tone in Graham's voice.
"How are you holding up?"
Her eyes immediately stung with tears. She figured others would remember, they weren't monsters. But she didn't think anyone would bring it up or want to talk about it. "I'm fine."
"I'm here if you need to talk."
"I, um, I have to go." Emma shot past him, and made her way to the restroom. Splashing cool water on her face she tried to keep the nausea at bay. I shoulda taken the whole day off, she lamented.
Last week…
"Did you ever make an appointment?"
"Yes, pops."
David chuckled at the nickname. She'd always called him and Mary Margaret all forms of mom and dad, and he'd never minded. They had taken her under their collective wing the moment they'd met.
"I just want you to take care of yourself. You've been out of it lately."
Emma just nodded, she knew he was right. She was suffering from the classic signs of depression, but she'd been dragging her heels because she did not want to see a head doctor. Don't I have a good reason to be sad? Sadness explained everything, save the hallucinations. There was no explanation for an overactive imagination and wishful thinking. She had ended up going to the doctor the very next day; after Mary Margaret walked in on her losing her lunch and insisted on making the appointment herself.
She had taken the half day as she had another appointment with her doctor. They'd asked a bunch of questions at the last appointment, had her fill out surveys about her mental health, ordered a complete blood count, a ct scan, and recommended some vitamins and supplements for her general malaise. Emma had thought the whole process a little over the top, but she was no doctor.
Feeling like she wasn't going to lose her stomach anymore, she washed her hands, splashed some more water on her face, dried it and then made her way back to her desk. She hoped maybe Graham would catch the social cue and back off for the rest of the day.
Three months ago…
"I just don't get it, why would the mayor kill some random lady," David puzzled.
"My first thought would be that it wasn't random at all. We are just missing the key." Emma hadn't realized at the time just how close she was with that statement. They'd just come from the home of Robin and Marian Locksley, the couple had been slain in their bed. The only items of interest they'd recovered from the scene had been a dagger that was wiped clean and laid in the deceased Mr. Locksley's hand, and a business card laying in the front foyer. "There's no other explanation for her card just laying there. She did it."
"Let's pay her a visit then."
"It's almost eight, David."
"Ahh, but you forget, young Detective Swan, evil never rests."
Emma rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Whatever you say ancient Detective Nolan." They headed out into the night and to the mayor's office in search of answers.
"How can I help you detectives?" Regina Mills greeted them coolly from behind her large desk.
"We're here to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Robin and Marian Locksley."
"Can I offer either of you a beverage?"
"No thanks," they replied in unison.
Regina stood up from her desk and walked over to the small bar area. She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip. "I don't believe I know them," she answered, setting the glass down on the bar. She slipped her hands into her pockets, and absentmindedly pulled out a pink piece of paper.
Emma watched as the woman paled momentarily before shoving her hands back into her pockets and collecting herself. "Are you sure? He's a locksmith, maybe the city uses his services?"
"No, I don't think so."
Emma knew without a doubt the woman was lying. She'd always had an insanely accurate bullshit meter. "I don't believe you."
"Emma," David admonished softly.
"I beg your pardon, Detective Swan. Do you know who you're speaking to?"
"Yes, I do. And I think you're full of shit."
"Detective Nolan, if you don't get this," Regina pulled her hands out of her pockets to gesture toward Emma, "hothead out of my office right now, I'll be forced to speak to Nemo about her insubordination. Now if that's all, I trust you can see yourselves out." The mayor walked back to her desk, sat down in her chair and pretended to make herself busy.
Emma knelt down and picked up the piece of paper that had inadvertently fallen from the mayor's pocket. Unfolding it, she read the contents and smirked to herself. When she looked up to address Ms. Holier Than Thou, there he was, outside, under the single tree. Blinking to focus, he was gone when she opened her eyes.
"No, that's not all," Emma retorted from where she'd knelt down. "You dropped something, Madam Mayor." She unfolded the pink piece of paper. "Hmmm… a receipt from Locksley's Locksmithing. Dearest Regina, You hold the key to my heart. Soon enough, it'll be just you and me. Yours, Robin. There's a key taped to it."
David quirked a brow at his partner, then turned back to scrutinize Regina. "Want to explain what the letter means, or why you lied to us? Better yet, let's head down to the station and you can give your full statement there."
"I want a lawyer."
That had been the end of that. Regina wasn't answering any questions under the advisement of her counsel, and being the mayor, she soon made bail.
Two months ago…
As she shuffled through the files on her desk, that pink piece of paper fell from the stack. She could swear she'd stapled it to the reports for safe keeping. Examining it closer she saw that it had in fact been stapled. It was still sticking out, begging to be noticed, just as it had from the mayor's freshly pressed suit pocket when Emma had walked into her office to question her. She pulled it out.
Emma ran her finger over the key, each groove unique to an equally unique tumbler. "That's it! David," she yelled.
"What's up?" he asked walking across the office.
"He changed the locks on her. He changed his mind, decided not to leave his wife. That's why she killed them both, that's why her business card was on the floor!"
"Slow down, how do you know this?"
"Just a hunch. C'mon, let's go see the mayor. You drive, I'm not feeling great today."
"You got an appointment yet?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll go pops," she chuckled. This was the most upbeat she'd felt in recent months. It must be the high of pinning down a perp.
The mayor had cracked quickly when presented with Emma's new theory. She'd confessed to everything. She'd been having a torrid love affair with the locksmith after he'd rekeyed her personal residence. Robin had promised Regina he'd leave his wife, and they would be together forever. The wrench in the plan came when Locksley got his wife pregnant, not only was he still sleeping with her, but he'd then told Regina he'd had a change of heart. He wanted to give it a go with his wife and their baby-to-be. She'd murdered them all in a cold, jealous, rage.
"He was a fucking locksmith and I was able to break in using my credit card." That had been when she'd dropped her business card from her wallet as she put away her credit card.
Emma shivered at the unaffected manner with which the mayor had recounted the tale, but before the heartless woman could see justice for her crimes, she'd ended up on a cold slab just like the three before her. At least Emma had solved the cases first. The law wasn't hers to make, it was hers to uphold, but if you asked her, murderers were better off dead.
She wasn't any closer to solving these cases either, not that she'd put forth an outpouring of effort. She'd get around to it, it just wasn't top priority. This murderer, the murderer of evil, didn't want to be caught, he was good. Hadn't left a trace of evidence on any of the four perpetrators turned victims. She was going to have a more difficult time solving these ones.
Nine Months ago…
"What the hell do you mean he's dead?" Emma shouted into the receiver. "Yeah, we're on our way."
"Who is it?"
"Neal Gold"
"Your murder suspect in the Gold case?" David asked eyebrows at his hairline.
"One in the same."
"What the hell happened to him?" Emma asked as she and David arrived on the scene.
"Not entirely sure yet, ma'am. The victim's body temperature indicates he's been dead at least twelve hours, but rigor mortis isn't twelve hours advanced. It doesn't make sense."
"Killian?" Emma called out.
"Emma," David said grabbing her arm, "are you okay?"
"I saw him, David, he was right there," Emma said breathlessly. "He was right there." She collapsed the moment David's arms came around her.
"Shhhh," he comforted Emma.
"But he was there, it was him," she insisted as he walked her away from the scene and back to the squad car.
"Emma, that's impossible. It was just someone who looked like him. Think about it sweetie, if that was him, what would possess him to walk away? Nothing in this world would stop him from coming to you. Come on, it's late, you're exhausted, let's get you home."
Logically she knew he was right. But emotionally she was struggling. She would swear it was him.
That had marked the beginning of her perps being murdered, since then three more had met their end in much the same fashion. Neck broken and laid out with their hands covering their own faces, maybe a pose to show some modicum of remorse, false though it was since they hadn't covered their faces themselves.
"Emma? Em-ma."
"Huh?"
"Where were you just now?"
"Just thinking about a case, what's up, Graham?"
"Mary Margaret just called again. She needs to see you before you leave for your appointment."
"Thanks," Emma answered looking at the time on her phone. "I'll go right now."
Walking into the medical examiner's office, she watched as her friend worked studiously, hunched over her desk, no doubt meticulously documenting some macabre fact or other about one of her clients.
Eleven months ago…
"She won't eat, she's also still not speaking, so I don't think you'll get what you're looking for. I assure you it is voluntary, she has chosen this for whatever reason. I'm not sure you should see her given your present state of mind. If you're here for answers, you're not going to get any."
The doctor was pissing Emma off. Didn't he know that Mary Margaret was her best friend, that she'd be able to get through to her. She needed answers. "Be that as it may, I want to see her."
She walked into the bleak room and sat at the chair next to Mary Margaret's bed. Taking her hand in her own, Emma squeezed gently. "I'm here."
Mary Margaret's eyes shifted to Emma's, but she didn't respond.
"Hey, how are you? I know that you're in some pain. I know that whatever you're going through is hurting you. But I need your help."
Tears slid down both womens' faces. "Mary Margaret, please, tell me what happened to Killian. I need to find him, he might still be out there."
Mary Margaret's silent tears morphed into cries, which turned to shrieks, and she ripped her hand from Emma's. She was panicking, her head shaking back and forth violently as if the motion itself would keep whatever she'd locked up at bay. The monitors were going haywire, and a nurse rushed in with a sedative.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, you have to go."
"I'm sorry Mary Margaret, I'm sorry." Emma was now sobbing uncontrollably, she could feel the pain and fear radiating from her friend. She watched what little life had been there drain from her friend's face as she faded into a drug-induced slumber. Whatever Mary Margaret was experiencing was only a reaction to what had happened to Killian, and that thought killed her.
"Earth to Emma?"
She jolted back to the present as her friend's voice cut through the awful memory. Mary Margaret had finished her documentation and was staring at Emma expectantly. "You summoned?"
"I did." Mary Margaret stood up from her desk, walked toward Emma and gave her a hug as only Mary Margaret could. "How are you doing today?"
"Not you too, I can't do this today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today." Emma's plea was quiet, but desperate. She couldn't handle anymore today.
"Emma, take today, go to your appointment, then go home. Don't come back here. David and I are worried about you. I don't know how to say what I want to say without you calling me mom, and without sounding bossy, but I'm going to say it anyway. It's been a year, you need to heal. Start looking to the future, you still have one, it's just different than you thought it would be."
Tears welled in her eyes, she didn't want a different future. She wanted him. "Who made you the timekeeper of grief?" There was no bite to her words, she knew her friend was trying to help.
"I just want to see a smile on your face again, maybe a little hope in your eyes."
"Okay… mom."
"Just couldn't help yourself." Mary Margaret threw her arm around Emma's shoulder and led her over to a table littered with paperwork. "So this is what I actually called you down here for. These are the four cases, your four murderers that have now been murdered. Interestingly enough they all have more in common than just the way they were killed and posed. In all the cases rigor mortis doesn't match the internal body temperature, making time of death hard to place. Another similarity was just confirmed with the most recent case."
Emma looked at her friend who'd paused for dramatic flair. "Okay, I'll bite, what is it?"
"They were all drained of a significant amount of blood."
"Uhhh, what does that mean?"
"Well, it could explain the lack of correlation between body temperature and rigor mortis. I don't know what it means about your murderer, but it's one more way the murders are connected. It looks like you and David have a serial killer on your hands."
Eight months ago…
Emma picked up the file that David had tossed on her desk. "Seriously? Some parents are so cruel," she chuckled as she read the file label - King, Arthur. "Alright so what's the deal with this Arthur King? He was found in bed, no signs of forced entry, no foul play. Just bad genes, so why is it on our desks?"
"At first glance, you're right. But Mary Margaret called up, she found trace amounts of ricin in his system, it's responsible for his death."
"What is ricin?"
"It's a poison from castor beans, and it's highly lethal even in small doses. Based on the amount of alcohol in his system, his murderer probably got him liquored up before dosing him which took away any chance of him being able to expel the poison."
"Christ, who are we looking at? The wife?"
"Yup," David sighed, "it's always the wife."
Emma rolled her eyes at the foregone conclusion, but figured David had a reason for his assumptions.
"Alright, spill."
"Well, poison is traditionally a woman's weapon-"
"I'll be sure to kill you with my gun if you continue to spout such bullshit."
David held his hands up in supplication, "And, if you'd let me finish, she was having an affair. She needed him out of the way if she wanted to keep her lifestyle, and her bartender."
"That makes more sense. Woman's weapon," she muttered picking up the file and standing up."Who's up first, the wife or the bartender.
"You pick, I've got them both in holding waiting to be questioned."
Unlocking the car and getting in, Emma tossed her bag on the passenger seat. She had an hour until her appointment. These were the worst times, the times when she had nothing to occupy her mind. Starting up the car she took off toward the doctor, she'd find a spot to stop for some hot chocolate on the way.
About a year and a half ago…
"What can I get for you?"
"She'll have a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon."
She bumped him in the chest with her forearm, "Don't order for me, what is this? The dark ages?"
"It was a romantic gesture! Is it not your order, some women might find it charming that I'd remembered," Killian spluttered.
She secretly loved that he remembered, but she couldn't let him know that.
"You know what, cancel that order. I was mistaken, she does not want a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Please, love, order away." He extended his hand out toward the barista and bowed his head.
"You goofball," she giggled, bumping him in the chest again. She felt when his arms came around her waist and he snuggled his face into her neck. "That tickles!"
The barista smiled at the display, patiently waiting for their order.
"I will have a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon. And he will have a..."
"You are all I need to wake up every morning."
Emma wiped at the tears that had formed in her eyes. That was a happy memory, no need to cry; yet the thought of not having those happy moments ever again, that was what brought the tears. She decided to just go through the drive through instead of going inside Starbucks, she wasn't really in any shape to be out in public.
Pulling up at the hospital she parked, and laid back in her seat. Just a few minutes, her head was pounding, she'd just shut her eyes for a few minutes.
Seven months ago…
"Gwenn King. Ring a bell?"
"Should it?" Emma asked only half listening.
"She's the husband killer."
"What?"
"You know, the one who used woman's weapon to murder King Arthur."
Emma laughed, "That ain't gonna be the way I do it. So what about her? She made bail, did she skip?"
"On the contrary, she's not going anywhere… ever. She was found dead this morning, and get this, her body was posed just like Gold's, hands over her eyes."
Emma spun around at that bit of news. "Seriously? What are the odds? Do we have a vigilante on the loose?"
Emma woke with a start, blue eyes and vigilante justice floating in her mind. "Shit, what time is it?" Grabbing her phone she noted she'd been asleep for less than twenty minutes. She grabbed her things and headed into the doctor's office. After checking in she sat down and turned on her phone.
She hadn't been able to bring herself to change her lock and home screen. It was her favorite picture of them together, and though it was a special kind of torture to see it each and every time she used her phone, the thought of removing it tore at the hollow that had resided in her for a year now, and that was a pain far worse.
Five months ago…
"I have him, he's running south down Maine," Emma shouted into her radio.
"Copy, I'm going to come around the other side."
Emma clipped her radio back to her holster and continued sprinting in pursuit of one of Portland's most wanted thieves. "Freeze," she called out as he turned down an alleyway. As she was accepting just how futile that request had been, it was as if God decided to intercede, and Scarlet tripped on nothing, landing face first on the torn up pavement.
Emma dove on top of him, pinning him down with all the weight she could muster. She yanked one of his arms behind his back and fastened a handcuff to his wrist. Leaning her left elbow into his back she wrestled to grab his right hand. "Stop resisting you asshole!"
"Not on your life, lady."
She reached further for his right arm, but the extra extension lined her head up with his, and he took the opportunity she hadn't been aware he was looking for. He snapped his head back with all his force and smashed into Emma's nose. The sickening crunch was a dead giveaway, Yep, it's broken, she thought as she recoiled. Scarlet took advantage of her momentary shock and pushed himself off the ground, she held onto his back, unwilling to let him get away. Her head swam in dizziness from the force of the blow to her nose.
"Scarlet, give it up, my partner is right around the corner, surrender now and he won't have to hurt you."
She took his grunt for a no as he propelled himself backward and into the wall. She hit so hard that her head smacked back and her breath left her chest, her body went limp as she fell to the ground.
"Killian?" she wheezed from where she was lying on the ground trying to catch her breath. He was trying to tell her something but her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear a thing. She reached her hand up to him, but it was so heavy. "Killian, wait!" she called out as he took off.
Emma still didn't know at what point she'd completely lost consciousness that day. She quickly wiped at her eyes when the nurse called her back.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Swan."
Emma nodded politely, not quite able to speak over the lump that had formed in her throat. She was ready for this pain to end, she was ready to stop missing him.
"Let's go into this room, I just want to get your vitals and ask you a few questions before you see the doctor."
"It says that you have passed out several times and also you think you may be hallucinating? Can you tell me when the last time either one of these things occurred?
"Umm, last month I experienced both."
"And can you remember when your blackouts and hallucinations started?"
Emma hated the word hallucination, she felt like a psycho, like they were going to lock her up in the mental ward. "The first one was about five months ago, but that was on the job, I got into a scuffle with an idiot resisting arrest."
The blood pressure cuff around her arm felt abnormally tight, and the pounding of her heart thudded in her ears.
"Actually, come to think of it, about nine months ago I thought I saw my missing boyfriend, that could have been any number of things though, job stress, personal stress, bad coping techniques." She hated the sympathy she saw in the nurse's eyes. "Anyhow, hopefully today I will get some answers."
The nurse quickly averted her eyes, and set to filling in Emma's vitals on her chart. "Any other symptoms that you didn't mention last week at your appointment?"
"Nope."
"Alright then, follow me."
Emma followed as the woman led her down a hall and into the oddest looking exam room she'd ever seen.
"Go ahead and have a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly."
This room was an office, not an exam room Emma realized as she looked around. Made sense, since she'd been poked and prodded last week. Her eyes settled on an award framed on the wall, and she thought back to the last time she'd been commended. David and his damn misguided attempt to make her feel better.
Four months ago…
"The city of Portland would like to recognize Detective Emma Swan for her bravery in the field. Although always on her game, Detective Swan is responsible for single-handedly taking down one of our city's most notorious thieves, Will Scarlet. Thanks to Detective Swan, the city of Portland is a little safer, and a thief was put behind bars for a very long time."
Emma gritted her teeth as she listened to the new mayor, August Booth, speak about the heroic duty she hadn't performed.
She had argued relentlessly with David, threatening him, begging him, and even asking him nicely to please admit that he was the one who had taken down Scarlet, after she'd been knocked out and gone to night-night land to dream once more about Killian.
He had been steadfast in his denial that he'd had anything to do with Scarlet's takedown. Told her that Scarlet was handcuffed and laid the fuck out when he got there, broken nose, two blackening eyes and a broken right arm.
She'd roared at him that she'd never even gotten his right arm in the cuffs, but David had laughed her off. Told her she was losing it, and he was going to have to 5150 her if she didn't let the charade go.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Swan."
Emma smiled complacently at her long time doctor, Anna Arendelle. She was normally annoyingly cheerful, bubbly as soda, and nice as pie. She was none of those things today. Shit, maybe I rubbed off on her. Emma barely took notice of the woman beside her, save for the fact that she was there.
"I'd like you to meet my sister, Dr. Elsa Arendelle, from the Oncology department."
Emma's heart freefell in her chest, her head spun, and the oxygen in the room evaporated. The pounding in her head was back. Bile backed up in her throat as she rose to excuse herself. "I have to…"
When she came to, she was laying on the couch in the same room. Two sets of eyes observed her, neither pair belonged to the person she wanted to see. "What happened?"
"You passed out," the sisters said. They looked at her before the redhead indicated for the blonde to take the reigns.
"As my sister told you, I am Elsa. I'm from the Oncology department. I have some results, and treatment options to go over with you. Do you have anyone you'd like to have with you?"
"No," Emma whispered. I have no one.
"Anna, can you get her some water?"
"Let's get you sitting up," Elsa said, reaching her hand out to Emma. "There is never any easy way to tell someone what I have to tell you, so I am just going to come out with it. You have stage four brain cancer, Emma. Based on your hallucinations I'd say your case is fairly advanced…"
About a year and a half ago…
Leaning against the wooden railing looking out on the ocean, Emma felt a peace she only ever felt when Killian was with her. He had his arms wrapped around her middle, chin resting on her shoulder, and she knew this was who she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. She'd never been so sure of anything. She knew now her life had been loveless for all those years because she was going to eventually find the greatest love of all. Suddenly Emma wasn't afraid to tell him anymore, she needed to tell him.
Turning around in his arms, she placed both hands on his face, "I love you, Killian Jones." Then she kissed him, gently, slowly, reverently, lovingly. "I love you, forever."
"And I love you, Emma."
"Emma. Emma, do you have any questions for me?"
She shook her head. Truth be told she hadn't heard much of what the doctor had said after the initial bombshell.
"You're going to want to act quick, this cancer is highly aggres-"
"No shit, Dr. Death! I haven't even gone through the fucking stages of grief since losing Killian, do you want me to just jump straight to acceptance and hope for you?" Emma stood up from the couch, grabbed her belongings and headed for the door. "Sorry, I know none of this shit is your concern. But I just can't do this right now."
"Please, Ms. Swan…"
The doctor's plea fell on deaf ears as Emma pushed open the door to the office and fled from the building. She found herself in the comforting confinement of Killian's car, surrounded by his scent. Starting it up she peeled out of the parking space and headed toward solace.
