Shadows of the Past

Emma couldn't see his eyes clearly, the moonlight casting his face in shadows, but his whole body was screaming pain, and suddenly it didn't matter that they hadn't seen each other in ten years, it seemed the most natural thing to open her arms and let him step into her embrace.

His arms tightened around her waist as he crushed her against his body, and her hands went to his neck, holding him close as she felt his body start to shake. She didn't hear a noise, he didn't make a sound, but she felt her shirt growing wet as his tears soaked through it.

She wanted to cry, too. He'd lost so much, and she knew the fact that he was famous didn't make it any easier. It probably made it worse. She'd read all the articles she could find, looked at all the pics. Her heart had hurt for him, seeing him in so much pain. Pain he tried desperately to hide, but couldn't. A pain he should have been able to deal with on his own, with his friends; not with millions of people watching his every move. But that was not how their worlds worked, and the double blow of losing his girlfriend and his voice through one horrible accident had broken him.

Emma wasn't sure if everyone could see it as clearly as she had, but the pain in his eyes had called at her. She'd seen one video of him where he'd snapped at the paparazzis to leave him the hell alone, his broken voice raspy, and all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms and shield him from the bad side of fame.

That was the moment she realized how deep their connection really went, and that not even ten years being apart had changed anything. Seeing him like this, made her come here. She didn't expect him to be here, but she was glad he was. Glad he might let her help him ease the pain that was still burning him alive.

The shaking of his body had ceased, the death grip of his arms around her waist had loosened, and she stepped back, walking a few feet away before she turned around to him.

"Come," she said softly, stretching out her hand, hoping he would take it and not run away.

His eyes met hers, dried tears were forming glistening paths down his cheeks, disappearing in his beard. His too long hair was standing in all directions, his too thin body hardly recognizable. He'd looked as if a hefty gust of wind could blow him away, and her heart ached for him.

Emma already thought he wouldn't take her up on her offer, seconds ticking by, her arm growing heavy. But then he suddenly moved, closed the gap between them and reached for her hand.

-/-

It was like coming home, the weight on his shoulders suddenly feeling lighter as he stepped through the patio door into her home. He watched as she went to the kitchen, and opened the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer.

What was it that made her so special? That made them so special?

Killian hadn't cried once since the accident, not even when the third doctor he went to told him that his vocal cords were beyond repair, and there was nothing they could do to bring his singing voice back. He knew he should have felt grateful that he was still alive, and he was. But losing his voice, not being able to sing anymore … it had hurt deeper than he could have ever imagined.

Emma walked past him, pressing one bottle into his hand before stepping out on the patio and towards the big lounger standing to the side, sitting down on it without looking at him again.

It should feel strange – this silence – should make him feel uncomfortable. But with Emma it never had, and apparently never would. He joined her on the lounger, laying his head on the headrest and watching the stars glittering above. He couldn't even put it into words how much it meant to him that she was just there for him right now. Without any expectations, without any words of pity.

Just the both of them lounging on her patio staring up into the night sky. He hadn't seen her in ten years, but only being in her presence for a few minutes already made the pain in his heart ease just a little bit. He didn't question it, was too tired to analyze what that meant, and just closed his eyes.

Her fingers curled around his a moment later, pulling the beer bottle out of his hands. He didn't open his eyes, fearing the peace he felt just now would evaporate then.

"It's okay," he heard her whisper, her arm wrapping around his shoulders, pulling softly until his head landed on her lap. "Relax. I'm here."

He felt tears prick the back of his eyes again; it was so easy to be vulnerable around her, he didn't have to fear she would take advantage of him. The thought almost made him chuckle, because he hardly knew her, but still … he knew he could trust her, and for the first time in over eleven months he truly relaxed, the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders loosened, and he let out a soft sigh when Emma's fingers started to comb through his hair, her whispered words the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep.

"It's okay. I'm here."