Lost Boy
(8 Weeks)
Emma blew lightly onto her fresh cup of peppermint tea, enjoying the warm feeling of the cup against her icy hands. It had been storming all day in Storybrooke, and the emptiness of her apartment made it feel even colder. Henry only lived there half the time between the occasions he spent with Regina, as well as his grandparents and this particular week, Henry had agreed to stay with Neal for the first time. More often than not, Emma found herself alone.
Killian had left her apartment 3 weeks ago to the day and Emma hadn't seen or heard from him since. No one in Storybrooke had, from what she had heard. The first few days it had been an honest relief, but as the days dragged by, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew about what had become of the pirate. The reality that he had left her like Neal had constantly hit her like a punch in the gut.
Emma had expected confusion and arguing and even yelling, and then, finally, a decision would be made about what they would do. She hadn't expected him to be happy about the news, not when she certainly wasn't. She hadn't expected him to even want to be involved, but at least she would have had closure. She hadn't expected him to just leave and never come back.
"Try something new, darling. It's called trust,"
His words echoed painfully in her memory. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but remembering things like that made her want to cry.
"I did and you screwed me over, you son of a bitch," she mumbled out loud to no one in particular.
Emma shuddered at the coolness of her apartment and pulled her blanket further around her shoulders. She snuggled deeper into the crook of the new-to-her sofa that Granny had graciously donated to the "Emma needs to furnish her apartment" fund when she had first moved there 2 months ago. She had never had much of her own before. Honestly, she had never needed much, so furnishing her home when she mostly lived alone wasn't something she had been very concerned about. She didn't even have a television, something Henry constantly reprimanded her about.
"How can you have a kid and not have a tv anyway?"
"Maybe I want my kid to value reading?"
Henry raised his eyebrows and looked in the direction of his book of fairytales that was resting on the kitchen table. "Really, mom? You're worried about me not reading enough?"
"Of course, I forgot," Emma said with a playful roll of her eyes. "The kid's already a genius,"
"Now you're getting' it," he laughed. "So… we'll get a tv next weekend when I get back home?"
"You'd bug me about the tv if you could too, wouldn't you?" Emma mumbled to her still-flat abdomen, tracing her hand gently over it absent-mindedly.
As soon as the action was complete, she immediately felt sick. She had barely acknowledged the baby's existence since she had found out the month before, and she certainly hadn't told anyone. Talking to it was like admitting to herself that this was not a terrible dream, but a reality. She was carrying Captain Hook's child and she had a very serious decision to make very soon.
With those few words of recognition she was stuck. No more pretending. There was that horrible fear and nausea again. It was the type of feeling she hadn't experienced in almost 12 years now, but one she was very familiar with.
Emma was suddenly overcome with an overpowering need to talk with her mother. Mary Margaret had been her friend and confidante before she knew that she was Snow White, but ever since the curse had been broken, the heart-to-hearts hadn't been so frequent.
Just as she was about to reach for her cellphone, a sharp knock interrupted her.
She stood up with her cup of tea, dropping the blanket that had been wrapped around her on the couch and walking towards the door, opening it curiously.
There stood a soaking wet Killian Jones, looking like a drowned puppy. He was completely drenched to the bone, as if he had walked miles in the rain, and the look on his face was of pure solemnity and regret. Emma nearly dropped her mug.
"Killian?" She couldn't help his name escape her mouth as a question.
"How are you, love?" he asked quietly, sad blue eyes meeting hers.
Emma was shocked, not only to see him, but that unlike the usual haughty smirk pasted across his face, he looked utterly distraught. Taking only a moment to process this, her next emotion took a hold of her body before she even thought to control it. A moment later, the pirate was stumbling back, completely caught off guard, not by a slap, but a powerful right hook to the jaw. A hot splash of tea sloshed out of the cup, but Emma took no mind to it.
"Where the fuck did you go?" she all but shouted while he collected himself, again, her body reacting before her mind could weigh the potential consequences.
Hook's expression had barely changed between his arrival and the punch. "I needed to clear my head. I needed time to think," he offered weakly.
"People go on walks to clear their heads, Killian! They don't disappear for a month!"
"I made a mistake,"
"Well, thank you, Hook. That really makes it all better," Emma reached towards to door to close it, but Hook rushed forward, putting his hand on the door next to hers to keep it from shutting.
"Please, Emma… let me come in?"
Emma tightened her grip on the door stubbornly, ready to force him out, perfectly happy with crushing his only good hand in the doorway if she needed to, but something stopped her. It could have been the soft side of her caving at the sight of him soaking wet in her doorway with that pitiful look on his face after wondering where he'd been for 3 weeks. Maybe it was her hormones kicking in again, but she didn't think she had ever heard him sound so meek.
"I don't need to hear what you have to say, Killian. You've already made your stance on the issue pretty clear," she gritted, fighting the emotional turmoil going on inside of her head.
"Please, Emma. Let's talk about this, love," His eyes moved to the steaming cup in her hand. "Is that coffee?"
Emma frowned, confused. "What?"
Hook shrugged. "Coffee's not good for the baby," he mumbled, looking down.
"Excuse me?" her tone took a hostile edge to it, if only because she didn't know how else to react to the comment. "A few months ago you didn't even know what coffee was, Hook,"
He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a waterlogged, half-crumpled piece of paper that appeared to be an instructional pamphlet from the hospital. Emma just stared at the pamphlet in his open hand. He looked as if he wanted to explain, but then quickly shoved it back into his pocket, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry for bothering you, love," he said, and began to turn to leave.
"Wait," Emma sighed. "Come in here before you freeze,"
Hook stood in the rain dumbly, unsure that the request was serious.
"Quick, before I change my mind," she motioned inside and let go of the door, walking inside.
Without waiting for him, she disappeared into the bathroom and re-emerged with a large bath towel. She tossed it to him and then disappeared again into her bedroom. Shortly after, she came back out with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt he had left behind.
"Come on, dry off and then go get changed. You're getting water everywhere,"
"Thank you, Emma,"
"I'm not doing it to be nice. I'm doing it because I feel bad enough right now without adding more guilt on top of that for letting you catch pneumonia,"
Hook nodded wordlessly and stripped off his black jacket. He let it fall to the carpet. More crumpled, wet paper fell aimlessly out of the pocket, but he took no notice.
Emma sighed, taking the jacket in hand. He was like picking up after a caveman or a small child. "I'll throw it in the dryer. Now go get changed,"
When she heard the soft click of the bathroom door, she bent down to pick up the paper that had fallen out of his pockets. Carefully, she unfolded them, trying not to rip the pages as she laid them out onto her small coffee table. "Pregnancy to Parenting, Pregnancy Nutrition, Pregnancy and STD's, Health and Wellness through Your Pregnancy, Pregnancy and Malaria… Really? Malaria?" She read the titles quietly, "Sex and Intimacy during Pregnancy? What the hell, Hook?"
"Did he take every damn pamphlet they had at the hospital?" she thought to herself, both annoyed and touched by the gesture.
If anyone had seen him, her secret would be out. No one had spoken to her about sleeping with Killian, but she was sure that people suspected it. All it took was someone putting two and two together and in a tiny town, it wouldn't take long before everyone knew exactly what was going on. Emma herself didn't even know what was going on with her own life. She didn't think she could handle all the rumors and questions, especially not if some of them were from Henry.
"I didn't really understand them,"
Emma jumped, startled by his voice, and dropped the pamphlet she was holding. Killian stood behind her, hair still terribly wet and haphazard from a poor dry job, but now sporting a pale, red t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and some white ankle socks. A small, puffy bump was already forming at his jaw line.
"I thought they might help," he continued awkwardly.
"This isn't my first time, Killian," she reminded him. She didn't feel so angry with him anymore, just confused. The punch really had done wonders for her mood, but something in her still wanted to shoot down every attempt he made for peace until he melted into one of the puddles on the floor.
"So… what do we do?"
"What?"
"I've never done this before, Emma. I don't know what to do, what am I supposed to do?" his tone took on a desperate lilt. Her silence only flustered him further. "Christ, Emma, you make me feel-" he cut off his sentence suddenly.
"What? What is it Killian? How screwed up can I possibly have made you feel in the past 15 minutes that I haven't felt in the last 3 weeks?"
"Like a lost boy," he finished in a voice that was almost a whisper. "I haven't felt like that in-" he cut himself off short again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this, Emma,"
"You don't have to do anything, Hook," she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Eventually, I will," he countered.
"What makes you think I even want your help in this?"
The man was clearly hurt by her cutting words. He didn't know how to reply.
"Who are we kidding, Killian? I barely know the son I have, and you… you're Captain Hook. We didn't even have a relationship, we were- we were simple," she paused and took a shaky breath before continuing a thought she hadn't dared speak out loud before then. "Maybe it'd be better for this baby if neither of us were in its life,"
"Is that really an option, love?"
"There's adoption," she said the word, inwardly cringing as she finally sat down on the sofa behind her. She hated the idea of putting up yet another child for adoption. What if it didn't work out? What if it ended up in the foster care system like she did, pushed from home to home with strange people who didn't love her? How would Henry feel about it? How could she live with herself knowing all that she was missing out on this time?
"You mean give it away?" He looked equally horrified at the idea.
Emma cast him a sarcastic look. "You're a pirate and this is where you draw the line?" She couldn't help but taunt him, despite her own reservations about the idea.
"I won't have him be a lost boy," he growled with a fierceness she hadn't heard in him before.
"He could be a she,"
This seemed to catch him off-guard yet again. "Oh god, Emma," Hook closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, then running his hand through his slick, dark hair. "I'm sorry for leaving the way I did, I-I'm a bloody mess,"
"You were a coward,"
"I'm here now," he said insistently, taking a step closer towards her. "Just tell me what I'm supposed to do, love," he said pleadingly.
"I don't know," she said honestly, half amused by the idea that she had no clue what they were supposed to do next. "I don't know, Killian,"
There was a long moment of silence. Killian slowly moved over to the sofa and took a seat next to her, staring blankly ahead at the table in front of them.
"Maybe we should read the pamphlets again?"
