Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the show.
Once Upon a Time
Lament (I am not sure about this title. I'll probably change it later.)
One-shot Part 2: Killian
Killian gazes over the couch into the kitchen at the wooden chair that lays helplessly on the floor, and the yellow coffee cup that sits untouched on the table. The pair looks like the saddest view in all the world. The ire burns so deeply within him that he feels as though he could burst. Killian erupts anytime someone shows him an ounce of concern or tries to suggest anything to help him. He just wants to be left alone. Which is not something Emma would want. Right now, he couldn't care less. He sluggishly forces himself from the bubble he has placed around himself on the couch and moves, toward the table.
It feels as though he is slipping from his body as he struggles to lift the once lightweight wooden chair off the floor. The little yellow cup that was once bright now looks dull and feels like ice under his fingertip as he traces his index finger around the cup's rim.
"Emma, I'm sorry…" Killian whispers as he lifts the now sad looking cup up off the table. He runs his thumb over the yellow glass, and his lead filled feet shuffle him toward the sink. Emma is probably disappointed in him right now. The dark circles under his eyes would alarm her. His face has weeks of unshaven stubble, and the fact he hasn't showered either is probably not very pleasant. He can picture her now, sitting in that chair, holding that cup pleading with him to get help and leaving the house in a concerned huff when he couldn't bring himself to speak to her. She would probably end up going straight to her parent's house after she storms out.
The pain in his chest is so indescribable that he is not sure he is ever going to recover from this. He's not sure anyone ever really could. What happened wasn't supposed to have been their story. Right now they were supposed to be a family and yet here he is crumbling beneath the weight of everything. He places the little cup into the sink and leans hard against its edge. He inhales deeply, attempting to calm the trembling of his body.
"Damn it, Emma!" Killian curses as he slams his hand against the side of the counter. He leans harder against the surface before running his fingers through his greasy hair.
He can hear Emma begging him to talk to her, to talk to anyone, but how could he put such pain into words? Especially to her. He is just so angry about the whole situation, and he could bet that Emma would be blaming herself for his condition right about now. How could he even begin to tell her that he didn't blame her? He can't even stand the thought of talking to her in his current state. Every time he tries to tell her that none of what happened was her fault, that it was an accident, he starts making demands of her. His demands as to why things were in their current state? Why hadn't she been more careful? How in the hell could she ever consider being so selfish? It's possible that she is currently beating herself up over this as these questions cross his mind. But, how could he even consider going to where she is, while his entire world is still in utter chaos?
When its time for their weekly dinner at Grannies diner, Killian is sure to fill his flask to the brim with rum. Once the flask is safely tucked away in his breast pocket, he ventures out to Grannies diner for the first time in weeks. In fact, it's his first time out into the "real world" for something other than alcohol. Emma would be ashamed at the current state of the house. Alcohol containers adorn nearly every inch of the living space. The only thing not decorated with these containers are the bedrooms, but, he can't even bring himself to go into them.
When he enters the noisy diner, for the first time in those long, painful weeks, he could feel all eyes on him. For a brief moment, he felt as though all conversation came to a halt. He hurries past the tables and goes over to order food for himself and Emma. He then moves to their booth. He stares over the table at the empty, space in silence. Sometimes, if he gazes hard enough, he can see her sitting across from him. However, the look on her face is always one of pleading. Eventually, he has to pry his eyes away. She would probably be wondering what she could do or say to him at this very moment.
When a saddened Granny brings the plates of food, Killian absent-mindedly pulls the flask from his breast pocket and begins to pour it into his black coffee. He gazes out the window at the street as visions of Emma's yellow 1969 Volkswagen Beetle is twisted in its new unnatural form and all the blood, her blood, flashes across his mind. There had just been so much.
"Killian…" Emma's voice whispers as the sound of overflowing liquid draws his attention.
He curses under his breath tilting the flask quickly upward. "Sorry."
"Killian," Emma's voice is soft, and is full of genuine concern. For a moment, he can see Emma reaching for him from across the table; but, as the hand moves closer, it morphs, and Emma's voice, begins to change. Killian suddenly becomes acutely aware; that it's Granny, talking and stretching out a hand in an attempt to comfort him. "Please, you need too…"
He is so sick of his mind playing tricks on him, and he is positive that Granny is most likely about to encourage a conversation that he doesn't want to have.
"Damn it! I don't want to bloody talk about it!" Killian snaps slamming his hand down on the table. "Can't everyone just leave me the hell alone!"
"I just want…" , Granny begins, but she was once again starting to sound like Emma. He can't stand the games his brain is trying to play on him. He wants out and fast, so he jerks money from his pocket and smashes it onto the table, fleeing the scene. He hurries away from the diner, the feeling of all eyes upon him is unnerving. As he steps out onto the sidewalk he feels ashamed at his reaction. If Emma were there, she would have apologized to Granny, before following him out of the diner.
Killian hurries down the street, people he goes past either try to express their condolences or they just stare at him sadly as he passes. He puts his hand up everytime someone tries to speak to him, and downs some of the rum from his flask and keeps going. When he finally, reaches the house they shared he is completely, wasted. He stumbles up the stairs, tripping over one of the steps. He catches himself just quickly enough to keep from smashing his face on the porch.
A crushing metal sound captures his attention, to the empty driveway. He can see it, the twisted, little yellow beetle being wrenched open; by the jaws of life. Emma's frame slumped over the steering wheel, with blood oozing down the sides of her face.
"Emma!" Killian squeezes his eyes closed as he screams her name. When he opens them again, the driveway is empty. Once he manages to get to his feet, he stumbles up the stairs and around on the porch determined to finish whats left of the flask before going inside. That's when he sees them, his observers.
He vigorously points the empty flask at them slurring is words angerly, "What are you looking at?"
With that, he fumbles around the porch a little more before hobbling into the house, neglecting to close the door behind him. At this moment he is glad that Emma can't see him in such a state, she would probably be thinking of ways to force him to get help whether he wants it or not at this point. She would not have allowed him to spiral in such a way. He stumbles down to the end of the hallway toward their bedroom, pausing briefly at a slightly open door in the hallway. Killian can almost hear her cursing for not closing it all the way. It's the nursery, for their baby. The baby that never got the chance to exist.
With a trembling hand, he slowly pushes the door open a little further. He stares longingly into the room. Its decorated in green and yellow, with new toys tucked safely in a corner. The new bookshelf lined with the books that Emma used to read to their unborn baby is on another wall. The rocking chair she sat in while she read to their baby was right next to the bookshelf. His eyes drift over the room till they fall on the crib that has sheer fabric hanging over the head of the infant bed like a little canopy. It is the loneliest crib in existence because no baby will ever get to sleep in for it is a childless one.
After a long moment, he listens to the voice in his head telling him to keep going, to get some rest. Staggering his way into the bedroom, he kicks off his shoes as he crawls into the bed and under the covers.
Killian reaches for Emma's pillow and runs his fingers over the empty, space. "Damn you, Emma…"
Tears drip from his lashes as he strokes the fabric of the pillow. "How could you…"
He stays like that for a long time till sleep overtakes his drowning sadness. The buzzing from his pocket sturs him from his deep slumber. "Emma… Hello?" his voice gruff.
It's Charming. Killian wishes he had never answered the damned phone as irritation swells within him.
"Killian, Snow and I, have been talking. We feel like we should see Dr. Hopper to help get us through this. We were hoping you would come with us tomorrow. We are worried about you, Killian. Everyone is. So, would you please come…"
"Whatever, Mate," Killian says snapping the phone shut angrily and dropping it over the side of the bed onto the floor with a thump.
Sleep once again consumes him, but this time he dreams of Emma. She is next to him, holding him. Telling him that she loves him and about how she can't wait to meet their baby. Then suddenly she gets up and walks away. When he catches up to her, she turns and smiles sadly at him.
"Killian…" her voice is soft, for a second her fingers feel so real as she runs them through his hair. "Come on, love. I need you to get up."
Killian groans and sturs a little under the covers. His head feels achy. He must have cried through the afternoon and long into the night. After he opens his eyes, for a few blissful moments, just before his blurry vision focuses, he can see her. "Emma…"
She is squatting beside the bed next to him, "You must get up and shower. You have a meeting with Dr. Hopper today. I know getting up, and getting out is hard for you right now, but I need you to try."
Tears sting his eyes, he is dreaming again. It always feels the most real right before he fully wakes up. Killian sluggishly forces himself out of bed. He can't stay here. Not after a dream, as real as that one. He strips out of his clothes as he groggily makes his way to the bathroom. The skin on his scalp is raw from his constant clawing.
He climbs into the shower and allows the hot water to pound against his broken body. He can't promise he is going to go see Dr. Hopper, but, the least he could do is give his hallucination of Emma one thing that she wanted from him, to try. He is at least going to do that. He is going to try.
There you go, guys. I hope you liked this. I think the next two chapters, are going to be about Snow and Charming. Until my next update. Have a great day. I had to upload this chapter weird to get it work so hopefully its okay for you guys.
