Chapter 2
Cloaks come in many shapes and forms. Some are invisible. Some have many layers and many colors. Cloaks can change who is unlikable and give them friends. They can take someone who is shy and give them voice. Are cloaks forever? Do cloaks change or do people change? If the answer is both then what and how does this happen?
David and Mary Margaret's Place
The following week, Emma arrived at Mary Margaret and David's home expecting a quiet evening, but instead walked into a crowded room. "What's going on?" She looked around, recognizing only a few faces.
"Surprise!" Mary Margaret grabbed her elbow, dragging her completely inside. "I thought this would be the quickest way for you to meet everyone."
Emma's pulse skyrocketed at the thought of so many people hovering over her at one time. "Oh." Her breath lodged in her throat, come on, Emma, she silently scolded herself. You know what to do. "That's very sweet of you." She finally got out, her voice just a touch less warm than normal, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Mary Margaret studied her for several seconds and Emma managed, just barely, to maintain eye contact and keep her breathing steady. "It's no problem. Come on, let me introduce you."
Dutifully following her around, Emma tried to remember names, but without each person holding a dog, cat or other pet, she knew there was no way their names would stick. "You know August, right?" Mary Margaret smiled as they walked toward where he was standing.
Emma felt her body relax slightly, "I do," she smiled at the attorney who had helped her dreams come true. "Hi, August. How's your dad?"
"Hi, Emma," August smiled, "I'm happy to say he's good."
"He..." Mary Margaret began before her attention was pulled to the other side of the room. "I think I need to go check on David before he makes a bigger fool of himself. Will you excuse me?"
"Go ahead. I'll be fine." With a little wave, the brunette quickly disappeared into the crowd.
"Is she always like that?" she wondered aloud.
"Easily distracted?" August laughed. "Let's just say she's had experience with some of David's more outrageous behavior."
"Oh?" Emma leaned closer, "Do tell."
"Well," he started to say before a tall, sandy-haired man walked up carrying two bottles of beer, "Thanks, Graham. Have you met Emma?"
"Graham Hunter," he introduced himself.
"Emma Swan." She shook his hand.
"So, you're the new vet Ruby's mother was praising for saving her prize mare."
Emma felt her face heat at his effusive praise, but pride in her work quickly covered the uncomfortable feeling. "Yes, I'm the new veterinarian in town," she acknowledged with a smile. "I just did what any animal doctor would do. Helped out a mother in trouble." The image of the birth and the foal's first steps rushed through her mind.
"Don't be so modest," Graham went on explaining the birth in great detail to August, who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else.
August's discomfort would have been funny if she hadn't felt sorry for him. "Have you seen Archie and Pongo lately?"
When her question was successful in changing the topic, she mentally patted herself on the back. While they talked and joked with each other, she found herself stepping back and just listening to the old friends bounce from one topic to another. What must it be like to have a friend who knew you so well? flashed through her brain leaving behind a melancholy trail of something. She didn't know how to answer to the question, but with nothing on her list about the quality of her friendships, she wasn't sure it ever would. She had Elsa, but even Elsa only knew bits and pieces of her past. Some things were too painful to share.
With a sigh, she looked around the room realizing that even after being introduced to most, they were just a sea of faces. When a knock at the door disrupted her introspection, and she couldn't find Mary Margaret or David, she opened the door to someone she had expected but still wasn't ready to see, "Oh, Killian." She sounded breathless even to her own ears, which made her feel like a teenager, but once the words were out of her mouth, she couldn't take them back.
His startled, "Emma," almost brought a smile to her face but she was too busy thinking about how nice her name had sounded. His lilting accent wrapped around the syllables caressing them in a manner that gave her pause. "Come in. David and Mary Margret are here somewhere."
"Thanks, love." He grinned and this time, Emma saw what she had seen at Granny's, that cocky, confident gleam in his eye.
He stepped past her and as she turned to shut the door, she heard, "Killian, there you are!" and turned in time to see a woman with bright red curls throw herself into his arms, covering his mouth with hers.
Rolling her eyes at the display, Emma moved away from the embracing couple and made her way over to the table of food. So different, was her first thought when she glanced at the assortment of finger foods. Pigs in a blanket or a plain cheese platter would have been considered too common, not fitting for the upper crust society she had been born into...and had run from, she reminded herself. Because she could, Emma picked up a plate and added one of each and then followed a couple of women she had been introduced to earlier.
"Can you believe she just threw herself at him like that?" The one with lighter hair whispered.
"I know," the darker hair of the two answered, "and kissed him too."
"Ugh, don't remind me," the blonde continued the topic. "Although, he does know how to kiss."
"Oh, yes he does." The brunette practically purred.
Emma grimaced and hurried around them, not interested in hearing about all the women that Killian Jones had swooning at his feet. "You forgot one of these." A husky voice murmured close to her ear.
She looked up into the blue eyes of the man who, according to the two women she had just passed, knew how to kiss. For several seconds her brain refused to send a message to her lips and tongue, "What?" she finally forced out.
"The shrimp," he lightly touched her bottom lip with the shellfish. "It's succulent." His eyes bore into hers as he leaned in and the gentle puff of air when he popped his T wafted across her lips.
Unconsciously, Emma's mouth dropped open, but then her common sense woke up and she stepped back, "What are you doing? For all you know I could be allergic to that stuff." she snapped. Without waiting for him to respond, she gathered her food and moved as far away from him as she could.
"Are you okay?" She heard someone whisper.
Emma looked around to see a leggy brunette who seemed vaguely familiar, "I'm fine." She frowned, "Why do you ask?" The woman gave her a look that said 'really, you're going there' causing Emma to capitulate and smirk, "I'm fine." She repeated. "He's quite..."
The woman's smile grew, "Hot. Hunky. Gorgeous. Take your pick."
"Ruby," Graham slipped his arm around the woman's waist, kissing her quite thoroughly. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"
"How do you know I wasn't describing you?" Ruby kissed him again.
Graham side-eyed Emma and a corner of his mouth curved up, "Well, were you?"
"Of course, Sweetheart." She grinned at Emma, "Right?"
As soon as Graham had said the woman's name, Emma realized why her face was so familiar. She was the daughter of the woman whose horse she had helped the previous week. "Right." She continued the charade, knowing by the look on his face he wasn't buying it.
"See," Ruby gave Graham a toothy smile, "told you."
"You did," he conceded, "how will I make it up to you?"
Well," Ruby leaned in and whispered something that caused a ruddy hue to appear on his cheeks. "Now shoo, we've got some girl talking to do."
"If I shoo, you'll have to make it up to me," he teased.
Emma watched them communicating without saying anything and for a brief moment felt envy. She wanted that. Wait, she scolded herself. No detours Emma, remember?
"Sorry about that." Ruby's grin was wolfish, "that man is just..." She glanced off in the direction Graham had gone and sighed, "Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Killian."
He was easy to locate as he was the only man who was holding court to a harem. In addition to the red head who met him at the door, and the two she overheard at the food table, he had been joined by two others. "Does he always need to collect women?"
"Killian is..." Ruby grinned.
"Self-absorbed, cocky, shallow," Emma quipped. "Shall I continue?"
Ruby tipped her head as if she agreed, "But...I think there's more behind those blue eyes then he allows anyone to see."
"Really?" Emma had to bite her tongue to prevent anything further from escaping. "So, what's the story with those women? No pride?"
Ruby laughed, "The red-head, Meri short for Merida, seems to think if she buys him gifts, she'll have his undying love."
"Puhlease!" Emma drew out the single syllable word. "Guys like that aren't looking for just one someone."
"You sound like you're talking from experience," Ruby murmured.
"My father," Emma surprised herself by responding. Why did I reveal that? she wondered.
Thankfully Ruby didn't ask any further questions before continuing, "The blonde is Tina, short for Kristina." Ruby wrinkled her nose, "She spreads rumors about people."
Emma frowned, "Why? Sounds pretty immature."
"It is," Ruby shrugged. "As for why," she pointed to a dark headed woman talking to Mary Margaret. "That's Regina and the one Tina goes after the most...jealousy, I think."
Emma groaned, "That's sad. But why throw themselves at Killian?"
"No life?" Ruby shook her head, "Look at them." she spit out disgustedly.
Emma watched the women crowd around the man whom she only had two encounters with and neither were positive, yet after Granny's he lingered in her mind. What was it about him that drew people to him? "He's just a man." she mumbled softly.
"And I bet he leaves the lid up just like my fiancé." Ruby muttered tongue in cheek.
Emma snickered, "Truth." She watched him a few more minutes, "I don't plan on being another notch on his bedpost."
"Good for you." Ruby congratulated her. "Ah oh, look."
Meri and Tina were dragged from the room by Killian and once the door shut behind them, everyone started talking at once. "Well, that was special," Ruby sniped. "I need a drink."
Emma followed Ruby across the room, meeting up with Mary Margaret at the punch bowl. "Is it spiked?" She leaned closer, taking a whiff.
"Maybe," Mary Margaret giggled. "Want some?"
She scooped some into a cup and handed it to Emma, who carefully took a drink. "Whoa! Vodka and rum both?"
"Yeah," Mary Margaret grumbled, "David and Killian made the punch."
"Ah, speaking of," Emma glanced around, making sure they were alone, "Did you forget to tell me something?"
"What?" Her friend played dumb.
Emma just shook her head, "Okay, be that way, I just remembered I need to talk to Ruby about a job." As she walked away, she heard the door open and peered over her shoulder to see Killian come back inside arm in arm with both women.
~~~cs~~~
Killian caught sight of the beautiful Doctor Swan gliding across the room when he re-entered with the lovely Meri and Tina. As predicted, it hadn't taken much more than a few kisses and a promise of dinner and dancing and they were pacified. He just wished it was as easy to pacify the new town animal doctor. Why was she willing to give time to others, but not to him?
"Ladies," Killian kissed each on the cheek. "My mate, Dave needs my help. I will see you two later."
"Promise, Killian?" Tina ran a slim finger down his cheek.
He squeezed her hand, "Promise, love."
Meri wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, "Don't you forget now." She kissed the underside of his chin, then tugged his head down toward hers. Killian leaned down for her kiss, his eyes meeting Emma's across the room causing him to move his head slightly and Meri's kiss landed on his cheek. "What was that?" she snapped.
Killian shook his head, trying to clear the image of Emma's arched brow and curled lip from his mind. "Sorry, love." He kissed Meri's hand, "Dave needs me." Without any further words, he walked away, not really caring about the woman who had stomped her foot and stormed off.
"Breaking hearts again, Killian?" David inquired.
"As long as it's not mine." Killian quipped
David looked like he might want to say more, but eventually just shook his head and handed him a bottle of rum. "We've been instructed to create our punch again. Any idea how much of that stuff you added?"
"No idea." Killian looked at the bottle and then the liquid that was in the punch bowl. "Trial and error?" he asked allowing a generous amount to mix with the other liquids.
David shrugged, "Works for me." He looked around the room, "as long as my wife doesn't catch onto what we're doing." He upended the vodka into the bowl where it mixed easily with the rum, fruit punch, lemonade and club soda.
"So, Dave," Killian set the empty rum bottle down and scooped out a cup for his friend and one for himself. "You didn't tell Emma I'd be here." He speculated nonchalantly.
The wince that crossed his friend's face answered his question. "I told my wife to do it," David confided, "but you know how women are." He took a drink of the fruity liquid, "Not bad, but, why?" he queried. "I saw ladies Monday through Saturday surrounding you earlier, are you looking for Ms. Sunday?"
This time it was Killian's turn to wince, but he didn't back down, "And what if I am?" He ventured.
The other man studied him for a few seconds before looking over to where Killian knew Emma was standing, "I'd have to say ha!"
Ha?" Killian questioned. "What kind of response is that?"
"Emma's not a groupie, Killian."
"A groupie?" Killian frowned. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"Yes, a groupie!" David nodded his head. "You know, one of many women who follow you around hoping for a tiny crumb of attention." He lowered his voice, "Emma is worth more than all of those floozies combined."
Killian couldn't maintain eye contact. He wasn't ready to look too far into whether there was any truth in what his friend said. He enjoyed having a different woman on his arm every night, didn't he?
~~~cs~~~
Storybrooke Sheriff Station
The following Friday when Killian was alone at the station and with nothing better to do, his conversation with David kept running around in his head.
Emma's worth more than all those floozies combined.
Emma's not a groupie.
Are you looking for Ms. Sunday?
He'd spent Monday with Meri, Tuesday with Tina and Wednesday with Cleo. Thursday, he had worked and tonight he was supposed to be with Belle, but...
And that was the crux of the problem...the but. Did he throw himself into his evening with Belle and forget about Emma?
He'd tried. Bloody hell, he'd tried. But every time he'd gotten close to those women, the memory of Emma's lips, Emma's hair and laugh kept getting in the way.
Every time he'd bent down to kiss one of those other women, the memory of Emma's moss green eyes haunted him.
The thought of taking her full bottom lip between his lips had turned him on more than anything he'd done...or thought about doing in weeks.
How could that be? And with the holidays quickly approaching, he had been invited to spend them with each one of his dates this past week.
What should he do?
The phone rang pulling him from his thoughts and dropping his feet to the floor, he grabbed the receiver, "Yeah," he barked without even answering properly as per protocol.
"Oh, Killian" Mary Margaret's distressed voice came across the line. "Can I speak with David?"
"I'm sorry, Mary Margaret. David's at a meeting with the mayor. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Well," she hesitated, "you know Robin was supposed to come to my class, right?"
"Aye," Killian admitted, "he was looking forward to it."
"It was today, and..."
"Robin is home because Roland is sick." Killian finished her sentence.
"Right," she agreed. "I was going to ask David, but...I'll just have to tell the kids we'll do it some other time." She sighed. "They're going to be so upset."
"I'll do it." He volunteered without really giving any thought to what he was going to have to do."
"Really?" she squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can you be here in an hour?"
When he arrived at the school, he was directed to Mary Margaret's classroom and was immediately surrounded by twenty pint-sized people.
"Killian, come in," Mary Margaret led him to the front of the room. "Class, say hello to Deputy Jones."
Killian had to admit when he looked out at the young faces all different sizes and different colors, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. They were just so open...so honest and he didn't have to worry about who he was or what to say. They didn't care about his glib tongue, nor how talented it was, nor did they care about what kind of car he drove.
They asked him questions about the siren in the car. Questions about saving kittens who had climbed trees. Simple things that he could answer honestly, easily. So easily, in fact, that before he knew it a half-hour had passed, and Mary Margaret was handing him a book to read.
Deputy Jones is going to read Ten Big Toes and a Prince's Nose," Mary Margaret told the class. "Come sit close."
When everyone was seated, Killian opened the book and read...
"There once was a princess so lovely and fair with ruby red lips and a mane of brown hair. Her voice was like honey, her smile soft and sweet...". He turned the book around, showing the children the picture of a young woman on a swing.
"...but the beautiful princess had gigantic feet." Once he read the line about her feet, he couldn't keep the smile off his face and the kids...their giggles were infectious.
"Now far, far away in our fanciful yarn, there lived a young prince with a nose like a barn. The prince loved to laugh, he was bright like the sun. He was warm, he was kind, he was funny and fun."
"But maids rebuffed him. They'd look at his beak and say. "Oops, gotta run!" before he would speak. They never found out how much fun he could be for a gigantic nose was the first thing they'd see."
The story continued with the prince and the princess meeting on a ski slope and with her feet covered and his nose hidden, they discovered the best in each other. It turned out that each had grown up hearing the same poem that spoke of acceptance of self and of not pretending to be something different.
"I am what I am and that's alright with me. I don't have to be different, I just have to be. I don't want to be somebody else. No sir-ree! I am what I am and that's all right with me."
The words resonated deep within his soul, but unwilling to investigate them too closely, Killian tucked them away for later. "And they lived happily ever after," he read the last line of the book and shared the picture of the prince and princess, now married and running through a field of flowers. His nose and her feet no longer cloaked so they couldn't be seen.
Mary Margaret took the book from him, "Class, can we say thank you to Deputy Jones for spending this time with us?"
When the class dutifully yelled thank you, Killian ducked his head, bashfully smiling when one little blonde lass stood up and hugged him. A part of him had thought he would be embarrassed about reading a children's book to a class of six-year-olds, but the opposite proved to be true. There had been something meaningful in the experience.
He stood in the back of the class and watched Mary Margaret interact with them for several minutes. She's a natural, he thought. Much like Emma when she had found Pongo and he had immediately trusted her. Would she be the same with children? floated through his mind before he could stop it.
"So, our book today," Mary Margaret told the kids, "was about accepting who you are, even if you are different. The princess and prince had been told;
"I am what I am and that's alright with me. I don't have to be different, I just have to be. I don't want to be somebody else. No sir-ree! I am what I am and that's all right with me."
After she answered a few more questions she asked the class if anyone could give her some examples of what they might want to change?
Several hands went up and Killian had to smile at how they wanted to all talk at once. He heard them trying to outdo each other, "your hair color, your weight, when you're shy, when you're too loud, when you can't kick the ball, when you're a bitch..."
"Grace!" Mary Margaret scolded. "Where did you hear that?"
"Sorry, Ms. Blanchard," the little girl said contritely, "I heard my aunt Meri say that about her friend Tina."
Kilian didn't stay around to see what Mary Margaret had to say about two of the women he had been out with recently, but with a wave left the room.
Several hours later, he parked in front of his apartment and slowly stepped from the car. He was in a mood and had been since a certain yellow bug had driven across his path a few months ago. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be good company tonight, but since he was supposed to pick Belle up in an hour, canceling was out of the question. He might be blind to what he wanted, but he tried to never be intentionally cruel.
Taking the steps two at a time, he made his way to his apartment, stopping quickly when he saw that his front door was partially open. Killian drew his gun and peered into the room expecting to be greeted with chaos, not candlelight, soft music and chilling champagne.
"Bloody hell!" He holstered his gun letting the door shut behind him. "Hello?" he called moving farther into the room, annoyed by the fact that someone had come into his domain without an invitation.
"Killian?" Belle came around the corner from the kitchen carrying a bowl of salad. "Surprised?"
"I wasn't aware we were to meet here," he uttered, barely keeping his anger from slipping into his voice.
She grinned, "We weren't but Mary Margaret stopped by the library to return some books and told me how you had saved the day." She set the salad bowl on the dining room table, "I thought I'd surprise you with a home-cooked dinner."
"Oh, I'm surprised alright." He unbuckled his holster, "How did you get in?"
"David and I arrived at the same time," she shared, "and he let me in."
I'll have to have a talk with my neighbor, David, Killian thought. "Do we have time for me to take a quick shower?"
Her gaze tracked him from his feet up, giving him an uncomfortable feeling, "Do you need someone to scrub your back?" she teased.
"Ugh," he swallowed, slowly backing toward his bedroom. "No, no. I'll be right back."
Once he had escaped to his room, he stored his gun and locked himself in his bathroom. "What are you going to do now, Jones?" Unfortunately, the man in the mirror didn't give him any answers and with the clock ticking before Belle came looking for him, he shed his clothes and stepped under the hot water.
Ten minutes later he was pulling out Belle's chair and sitting down to eat the meal she had painstakingly prepared for them. She smelled nice and her skin was soft, but...
The pasta dish, salad and homemade garlic bread were paired with a nice wine, everything to make a dinner special. She regaled him with stories from her day at the library, her favorite being the meeting with her book club, making him the perfect dinner companion. When she spoke, her blue eyes sparkled, but...
Killian listened to her stories but had to admit that his attention drifted several times throughout the meal. It didn't make sense as her speech pattern was lilting, one ideal for a librarian, but...
After dinner, they moved into the front room and sat down on the sofa. Killian stretched his arm along the back behind Belle and lightly fingered a few strands of her hair. The candlelight flickered around the room bringing out the highlights in her auburn hair, but...
"Why don't I open the champagne?" He mentally gave himself a shake and concentrated on peeling off the wrapping and working the cork free.
He thought he heard Belle say she was going to get glasses, but his mind was lost on his but statements.
Her speech pattern was lilting, one perfect for a librarian, but...she didn't breathlessly say his name one minute and the next spit out comments that challenged him.
When she spoke, her blue eyes sparkled, but...her eyes weren't the moss green ones that haunted his dreams.
The candlelight flickered around the room bringing out the highlights in her auburn hair, but...her hair wasn't thick and blonde, making him want to wrap his hand around it as he tugged her close laying claim to her lips.
She smelled nice and her skin was soft, but...she wasn't, "Emma."
A gasp had him to swinging around, "Belle, I...I didn't..."
"Goodbye, Killian," she said quietly before picking up her jacket and disappearing out the door.
Killian looked at the champagne bottle in his hand thinking it was a good thing he never got it completely opened. And while he felt bad that she had been hurt, he couldn't work up enough sadness to go after her.
He poured a generous amount of rum and took it, along with the bottle, out onto his patio. What was going on with him lately?
He liked women and women liked him.
Except Emma, his subconscious answered.
He liked Merida and she had fiery red hair.
She's not Emma.
He liked Cleo and she was a brunette.
She's not Emma.
He liked Tina.
She's not Emma.
But she's blonde.
She's not Emma.
"Bloody hell, shut up," he muttered downing the rum and pouring another three fingers, tossing half of it back.
He had known he was in a mood when he got home and instead of having the time to get in the right frame of mind, Belle was here. He owed Dave thanks for that. Tossing back the remainder of his rum, he dialed his good buddy.
"'Lo," David barked.
"You let her in." Killian groused. "How come you let her in?"
"Belle?" David questioned.
"Of course, Belle," Killian confirmed. "Why did you let her in? You know I don't bring women to my apartment." His apartment was his space. The one place where he didn't have to worry about what he said or how he looked, which was why when he was with women, it was at their apartment. Then he could leave when he was ready.
David's sigh came through the line, "Sorry. She said you had invited her. What happened? Did you kick her out?"
"She left," Killian admitted and then surprised himself continuing, "I called her Emma."
"What?!" David laughed. "How did Mr. Date of the Day make a mistake like that?"
Killian shook his head, even knowing that his friend couldn't see him, "I don't know Dave." He sighed, "I've never done that before, but somehow, I don't feel as bad as I think I should."
"And you called her Emma? Sounds like you need to go talk to Emma." David suggested.
"Bloody hell," Killian sputtered, "she won't talk to me. Besides," he hesitated a beat, "who said I wanted to talk to her anyway?
He heard David blow out his breath, obviously exasperated, "You never know until you try, you know? Oh, thanks for helping Mary Margaret today. I've got to go." He hung up without waiting for any response.
Killian shoved his cell back into his pocket, poured another two fingers of rum and stared out into the dark night. He was tired of thoughts of Emma crowding his head, causing chaos in his life. Could he change that? If they talked would he stop thinking of her? If they went on a date, would she become just another woman?
David was right. He wouldn't know until he tried. Tossing back the last bit of amber liquid, Killian picked up his keys and left the house. He was going to talk to Emma and see if he could purge her from his head once and for all.
~~~cs~~~
Emma sat rhythmically running the soft brush over the tiny creature's head, mimicking the cleaning of its mother's tongue. The kitten, small but perfect, was sucking the warm milk from the rubber nipple, its natural means of nutrition no longer available. The orphan's life was in her hands and while she was doing everything she could do to assure its survival, that wasn't really in her control. "Still collecting orphans and trying to control things, aren't you Emma?" she mocked herself. But she had learned long ago that words weren't what mattered, it was actions that showed the true nature of a person.
Emma Swan liked to be in control but when you had grown up in the world she had, there weren't many opportunities. Parents who should never have married, much less have become parents and a childhood where she was only happy when she was nursing back to health one of the many outcasts she had gathered. She had tried to save more puppies, dogs, kittens, cats, birds and whatever else had been dropped off than she could count. But they had needed her...and she had needed them.
Learning to take control had been a slowly developing process. She had been bounced back and forth between her parents, and their needs, with no care given to hers. Chaos and lack of order ruled her life and lists and goals gave those back to her. Lists and goals could be trusted, and she had learned early on that wasn't always the case with people.
Her mother was a high-powered businesswoman in Boston who barely had time for her daughter. She had a father who had a different woman on his arm every day and when he was needed by her mother, he had to be bought. The world she grew up in was full of make-believe, a place in which she wanted no part. It was a life that should have been easy but wasn't.
But a few things written on a list and achieving her goals one by one had given her control.
That was why she always had a plan in place.
That was why her goals were so important.
And that was why even though she sensed something more behind the blue eyes of Killian Jones, her response was so volatile. She had worked hard to get away from people like him and she had no desire to return.
Storybrooke had given her a business she could love and help grow and slowly she was working to find her place in this town.
She was making friends like Mary Margaret and Ruby, August and Graham. "And I have you," she cooed to the little kitten.
New opportunities and situations arose every day and as long as she was prepared, then...
"A moment please," the quiet voice of the man whom she had just vowed to keep at arm's length interrupted her thoughts.
Emma studied him for several seconds thinking there was something different about the man standing in front of her. "I'm a little busy." she finally answered hoping to brush him off. Continuing to attend to the kitten, she noticed that the bottle was almost empty. "She needs me right now."
His eyes were trying to tell her something, but she had seen that too many times when she needed her father. A look...or mere words were not enough to pierce the cloak she had grown to keep the pain at bay. Keeping her head down, Emma continued with what she was doing, looking away briefly when her phone chirped for an incoming text.
Elsa: Call me when you have a minute.
Chancing a glance in Killian's direction, she schooled her features into a neutral mask. He sighed, "We'll talk later then," he finally responded. Once he was out of sight, Emma felt her whole body relax. He just...
Shaking her head before allowing her mind to delve too deeply into her feelings, she cuddled the kitten, placed her back into the warming bed and made a call.
"Elsa," she greeted her long-time friend, "what's going on?"
They spent several minutes catching up before the real reason for the message was mentioned, "You're coming to New York for the holidays, right?" Elsa asked her, a slight pleading tone to her voice.
Could she get away? And so soon? "Let me see if Doc Thatcher is available to cover for me," she finally promised. Maybe getting out of town for a few days would give her a different perspective on everything and everyone she decided before the memory of blue eyes distracted her yet again.
~~~cs~~~
Killian opened his bottom drawer and pulled out all four of his black books. As he flipped through them, he found he could put a face with only a few of them, the others...were just a name between the pages. When had choosing a name from his long list become not enough?
The answer floated through his mind, but not willing to delve into it, he shoved it aside for later. Tossing the books back into the drawer, he slammed it with disgust. He didn't want any of those women and the one woman he was interested in wouldn't give him the time of day.
"Hey Killian," David walked into his office and hitched his hip onto the corner of his desk. "So, did you ask Emma out?"
Killian scoffed, disgusted with himself, but unsure how everything had gotten so off track and how to make things right. "She was busy." he finally admitted.
"And you let that stop you?"
Killian sighed, "But, she's different, Dave." And I have no clue what I'm doing, he admitted to himself.
He could feel David studying him and worked to keep his expression neutral, "You mean that, don't you?" David probed.
"Aye," he ran his hand through his hair, not caring for once that it was standing on end. Pushing up from the desk, he paced, "I feel like a fraud."
"Hey, Killian," David took his arm, steering him back to a chair. "Talk to me. Maybe I can help."
Since Liam wasn't around, maybe David would be able to guide him in another direction, "When I was a teenager," he began, "I learned early on that females liked what they saw when they looked at me." He gave a self-deprecating smile, "It didn't take long before I shamelessly flaunted that. Seeing males of all ages being led around by those of the fairer sex just wasn't for me. I swore I would never be that foolish. I wrapped the love and leave persona around me and held on tightly." His voice trailed off as he thought back over the last few years.
"What changed?" David's quiet voice gave him strength to go on.
"Violet."
"A woman?" His friend hypothesized.
"No," Killian confessed hesitantly, "a little girl."
"Not yours though," David guessed.
Killian grunted, "No, not mine." He took a deep breath, letting the memory wash over him, "I won't go into the long sordid story, but suffice to say, I was deep undercover and somehow my identity was revealed and when they came after me, that little girl was caught in the crossfire." He wiped his hand over his face, the smell of blood and smoke still clinging to his skin, "Her mom had been just a kid when she was born, and she was being raised by her grandmother, but while I was on that case, she got under my skin." Which was an understatement, he thought. She and her grandmother lived in the apartment next to the one he was staying in and so he saw her every day. Her grandmother had even brought him baked goods. They had cared.
He grinned, "She used to ask me, 'What did you do good today, Killian?'"
David smiled, "She sounds very wise. How old was she?"
"Ten going on thirty," Killian answered softly. "That was the case that eventually pushed me to leave the NYPD." He had moved because he was tired of being undercover, always seeing the seedier side of life and thought with a change of location, he had left everything from his old life behind. Apparently, though, some things were easier to shed than others. "After her death, I needed to get away and start over. I moved here..." Killian's voice died as he thought back on the decision to move and how, while Liam had been upset to see him leave New York, his brother understood. But...a flash of a yellow car, music trailing in its wake had caused him to question, not only who he was but what he was doing.
David's voice broke through his thoughts, "Did you ever think that maybe Violet saw something in you that no one else could see?"
Killian opened his mouth to deny that it was possible, but was his friend right? Had he been a different person with her? He raised a brow, wondering what the other man was thinking.
David leaned over, opening the drawer with the books and tossed them on the desk, "The man who collects those names is a shallow, cocky SOB, who only cares about himself." He flipped a picture around of Killian sitting on a small chair in Mary Margaret's first-grade class, surrounded by tiny students while he read to them, "That man is introspective, caring and will go out of his way to read to a bunch of six-year-olds without being asked."
Killian ducked his head feeling a little ashamed by the description but admitting there was a whole lot of truth to his statement. What did he do now? "Maybe you're right," he acquiesced.
"I know I'm right." David asserted smugly. "Maybe if you can find the man Violet knew you could be, Emma wouldn't be so busy." he advised. "I've got a meeting. I'll see you later."
"Thanks, Dave." Killian watched him go and before he could second guess his decision, scooped up the books and tossed them into the trash. He was going to take his friend's advice and hope that once Emma got to know the real him, he wouldn't have any need for the information in the pages of those books.
But who was he? Did he even know where to find him? The words he had read to the kids came back and this time as they floated through his head, he listened, I am what I am and that's alright with me. I don't have to be different. I just have to be. I don't want to be somebody else. No sir-ree! I am what I am and that's all right with me.
Pulling out his cell, he sent a quick text to his brother: Changed my mind. I'll be there for Thanksgiving. I need your help finding someone.
Liam: Who?
Killian: Me.
There are cloaks you wear as a child and cloaks you wear when you're grown. Sometimes the adult cloaks are the same as the ones you wore as a child...just larger. Others are completely different...so different in fact, that when seeing yourself in the mirror you wonder who that person is and why the cloak is there. When it's time for a cloak to be removed…how is it done?
~fin
Let me know what you think and if you have read the Ten Big Toes book...I hadn't until I was searching for one for this story and I have to say it is adorable. See you next week.