Thank you to my friend Heather for being a dear and doing a last minute beta job! Another thank you to the review/favorites/follows! Third chapter up in a few days, likely around Sunday.
Two
"HELP!" A voice shrieked, sounding far away and right beside her ear at the same time. She shot up in her bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, straining to make sense of the dark room and the ringing in her ears. What was that? It was gone now, just an eerie silence instead; all the lights in the room were off, even the one in the bathroom that Killian had left on. She couldn't tell what time it was, the clock on the nightstand blank, but it didn't feel as though she had slept for long.
"Bloody hell, what was that?" Killian complained, bringing her back to the presence. She blinked, wiping the sleep from her eyes, to see him standing between their two beds, his back facing her as he stood between her and the door, shoulders tense.
Had he tried to protect her?
It was endearing, but Emma would have to nip that in the bud. After all, she was the bail bonds person and while that didn't quite match up to his military background, she hadn't spent the last five years taking care of flowers.
She didn't need a knight in shining armor.
"Swan?" He said, worried as she blinked, seeing him crouched beside her bed, a furrow to his brows. "Alright there?"
"I'm fine," she replied, untangling her legs and swinging out of bed. "Did you hear…?"
He grinned faintly. "The sound of a banshee being frightened? Indeed, I did, I suppose someone had to take advantage of the atmosphere."
"What atmosphere?"
"Just the one where we're in a hotel with all the lights out in the middle of nowhere. I said earlier that this was prime haunting material, perhaps I should team up with whoever seems to agree with me."
"Yeah, you'll be a riot."
"I thought so too. Alas, I shan't leave a woman in need."
"I'm in need of something to hit you with and that's it."
"Allow me to help you then. I am, after all, a gentleman." He got to his feet and she thought that was the end of it; that he was going to go to bed and they would pretend it never happened, that the creepy scream was just somebody being an asshole, but he walked over to a small fridge in the corner, his body hiding whatever he was grabbing.
He walked back over to her, his hand behind his back until he was right in front of her. "One weapon, as promised," he said pompously, handing her a banana as though it were Excalibur. "Go on, take it, you said you needed it."
"Haha, so funny," she deadpanned, taking it from him and waving it threateningly. Rather than hit him - potentially wasting what was one of her favorite fruits and would be great for breakfast - she set it on the nightstand, glowering as he grinned. For a moment, they both forgot the conversation from a few hours' prior, content to fall back into their banter. He stared at her with such tenderness that she had to fight the urge to look away, and then it all came back.
Her shifting must have reminded him because he looked away, suddenly unreadable as he headed back to his bed. She opened her mouth, not sure what to say, but also feeling like she had to say something, when a shadow flickered to life on the wall. There was no light except from the moon, drifting through the small gap in the curtains, and nothing in the room made such a shape.
Nothing in the room moved like that, crawling down the ceiling and towards the floor, growing taller and taller, not possibly real and yet it couldn't be a figment of her imagination. It was nothing more substantial than darkness, but the longer she stared, the more defined it grew, a shadow that grew an arm, that grew a hand.
Sharp, pointing fingers appeared and her breath came out in a stuttered whoosh, eyes widening. Killian turned, bewildered by her wide-eyed expression and the shadow disappeared as suddenly as it appeared.
"Did… you see that?" She whispered, a chill working its way down her spine.
He didn't reply.
For a long moment, the room was absolutely still, neither of them moving an inch, not even daring to breathe despite the way their lungs protested for air. When the shadow didn't appear again, she swallowed, shaking her head roughly and shooting him a dark look.
"This is your fault, talking about ghosts before we went to bed, no wonder we're both seeing things," she said sourly, rubbing her eyes. Clearly she needed more sleep – and to not listen to him and his talk of ghosts.
He didn't move, still staring at the place they both saw the figure, his eyes unreadable and unfocused.
"Killian?"
Still, he didn't move. Was he even breathing? She stood up warily, hand resting on his back, the muscles tight beneath her touch. She pushed up on her toes to peer back at the wall. Nothing was there, not even their own shadows appeared in the darkness. She pressed her hand harder against his back, dropping back down onto her feet, tugging on his arm to pull him back towards his own bed. Only then did he unfreeze, his breath coming out shaky.
"Killian?"
"Sorry, lass. Just…bloody hell, did we really see that?" He murmured, sinking down onto his bed, his elbows resting on his knees.
Rather than follow him and sit beside him, maybe even lean her head at his shoulder like a part of her was nudging her to do despite the circumstances, she stood right in front of him, crossing her arms stubbornly. "It was nothing, just a trick of the light. Er…the moonlight."
He held his palm against his eyes, so hard that even she winced internally. She didn't relax her stance, though the feeling of wanting to be close grew stronger, more persistent and annoying. Kind of like him, she thought. "I don't believe so. I've never seen a shadow do that."
"There's no such thing as ghosts," she said sharply, too loud in the dark room. He dropped his hand, looking up at her
"'There are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"
"Don't quote Shakespeare at me, Killian. This isn't a ghost, don't be ridiculous."
He shook his head, exasperated. "Do you find it to be a coincidence that we both heard someone scream and then, not even ten minutes later, we both happen to witness an apparition?" He demanded, standing up so suddenly that she had to step back a fraction to keep them from colliding with each other. Still, they stood chest to chest, her arms the only barrier between them; indeed, she could feel the fabric of his shirt brush against her with every breath.
"I think we heard somebody talking and it spooked us awake and we're sleep deprived," she said, keeping to the matter at hand rather than the smell of his body wash or the blue of his eyes. She was capable of thinking without her libido getting in the way, thank you very much.
The way he studied her after she was done speaking made her more uncomfortable than anything else that had happened tonight, just short of his startling confession earlier. As though he didn't need to listen to the words she verbalized because the real facts were written across her face, an open book for him to pursue at his convenience. She didn't back down, trying to school her features, but her brows must have furrowed because he blinked, looking away from her.
An uncomfortable silence fell. During which, he didn't move away from her, thinking very hard about something. It occurred to her then that a part of him was afraid, that his eyes hadn't once flickered to where the shadow had been, that his hands were clenched by his side, the littlest tremor there, unnoticeable if they weren't standing so close and each tiny movement brushed against her sides.
Despite this, he stood between the shadow and her anyway. Real or not, he was trying to protect her.
"Well, perhaps you're right and this is just the product of two souls in desperate need of rest, but I shall investigate nonetheless. The shadow might have been a sham, but that scream was not," he said quickly, scratching behind his ear. Sensing her argument, he added, "Let's just go make sure nobody needs help."
She deflated at that, chewing on her lip, before nodding her head. If he questioned why she grabbed the banana, she wouldn't have answered. It was instinct to grab something, everything else in the room being bolted down in some form, and holding something in her palms brought comfort. Not because she was scared of ghosts or something, certainly not, but because Killian's words were spooking her.
She followed him, noticing that he once more placed himself between her and the wall, as though the shadow would reach through the darkness, invisible to both their eyes, and suck her into a phantom realm. Ridiculous, honestly, but she was grateful when they passed that part of the room and a cold chill settled over their shoulders. Like they had walked passed an air vent on full blast. The feeling didn't dissipate until they were standing in the hallway.
The hallway is scarier than the room, she thought as Killian propped the door open, neither of them sure if the door would work without the electricity on. She didn't relish the idea of anybody able to poke around through their things, a part of her commending the person for a creative con, but she didn't wish to hang around in the hallway either. Without any lights on, she could hardly see anything, not the numbers on the door across from her, the pattern on the carpet, or the faded wallpaper. The only clear thing she could see was the little table at the end of the hallway and the fluttering curtains, where an occasional flash of moonlight beamed through the gaps when the fabric moved just right.
"Next time, we bring flashlights," she told him, the banana hanging uselessly in her hands. It didn't offer any comfort now.
He hummed, far more relaxed than she expected him to be given his actual fear back in the room. "Plan on navigating a hotel in the dark again soon, luv?"
"Hardly," she scoffed, unable to think of a wittier reply when she was cold and maybe a tiny bit afraid of the absolute darkness in front of them. "Where are we supposed to start looking, Sherlock? In case you didn't tell, this hotel is kind of big." She didn't point out that they would have difficulty getting into a room if the scream originated from inside a room.
Could these doors be kicked in? Possibly, but she would need a damn good reason. The move to Storybrooke would take enough out of her savings and she hadn't added hotel damages to her budget, hadn't thought that it would be needed, if she was honest.
"My dear Watson, surely— "
"HELP!"
She clapped a hand over her mouth, supporting him when he stumbled back a step right into her. They teetered for just a moment, shaken by a scream so loud that it made Emma's ears ring long after it stopped. So loud that it echoed down the hallway, so loud that she didn't know what direction it came from, but of one thing she was certain: that was real.
And it hadn't come from this level.
"You go to the floor above us, I'll go to the one below," she ordered, pushing him towards the stairway leading up and turning on her heel to sprint for the other stairway leading down, cursing the architect for making such a bizarre building.
"Swan, wait!"
She didn't hear him.
…
The banana didn't help her much, but Emma still held it aloft like a gun as she darted into the stairway. Her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light and she could make everything out more clearly, able to take the steps two at a time, only slipping once and catching herself before she could go tumbling down to the basement. She paused outside the door that would open up to the fourth floor, breathing heavily, knee screaming in protest.
Her doctor was going to kill her.
Well, if the psychopath torturing innocent people in the building didn't do that first. As if her thoughts provoked whoever was hurting people, she heard another shout, male this time, that seemed to come from right on the other side of the room. Now or never, Emma.
She pushed the door open –
– and screamed as a figure stood on the other side. It was faceless and much taller than her, even hunched over it appeared to brush against the ceiling, not entirely solid as she could see the hallway on the other side of it as though looking through foggy glass.
It lurched forward, uncoordinated, long fingered hands reaching for her throat.
She stepped back, throat dry and rough, allowing no scream to make its way out of her mouth. It followed her, oozing passed the threshold, and a choked gasp that came from her. Oh, God, this is really happening!
Closer, closer it crept. Further she pulled away until her back bumped against the protective railing on the stairway. She felt the cold through her shirt and with the chill came clarity. And a plan. A stupid one, but better than letting her soul get sucked out or whatever this thing planned to do.
The creature, the ghost, whatever it may be, came closer, leaning over her as she shrank back. The closer it came, the harder it became to think, her thoughts seeming to drift away before she could latch onto them. So slow, why was everything so slow?
The railing was no longer cool, but burning hot, her shirt sticking to her back as she arched away from its touched. Its hand touched her chest, just above her heart, in the lightest of brushes, and it was like fire lit on her skin, not pleasant but roaring and burning and white hot agony.
She screamed, lurching away, swinging the banana hard against the wrist reaching for her. With a hiss, the creature's wrist separated from the rest of him, hand hovering uselessly in front of her face. She and the thing stared, the air thick with tension, when the wrist snapped back into place as though nothing had ever happened.
It reached again, vibrating with pent up rage, so close to touching her that she felt the heat, recalled the pain. But the pain brought back her thoughts, brought back her plan, and Emma ducked around it, throwing herself into the door as the creature stilled, surprised. The room thickened, like all the air was being taken from it and left behind was something heavy, something menacing.
She threw the door open as it recovered from its shock.
She slammed the door closed before it could come through.
She ran before she could see if that would stop it.
…
This can't be happening. I've lost my fucking mind. She thought, scrambling up the stairway, unsure of where Killian could be, but suddenly so desperate to find him that every beat of her heart seemed to be his name on repeat. He would know what to do, one part of her said. She had to save him, another part pointed out. She had to warn him, the entirety of her agreed.
Rather than go to their floor, she bypassed it and continued onto the next one, the one she knew he would have gone. By the time she got up the two flights of stairs, she was limping, but worse than that was the sting on her chest where it had touched, the one that made it hurt to breathe too deeply. It felt like a brand and like a promise that the thing would be back.
Perhaps that was the shock talking. Perhaps it was the fear.
Somebody grabbed her shoulder, calling her name. Her blood rushed in her ears, her breaths coming in stuttering gasps, but she whirled around, not screaming but nearly, raising her banana over her head like a weapon, the feel of it holding her together.
Killian made an odd yelping noise, holding his hand up in defense, catching her wrist before she could break the banana over his skull. She struggled, just for a moment, until she heard his words. "Swan! Bloody hell, I don't need any more potassium in my diet, thank you!"
"Killian?" She gasped, slumping into his grip. He frowned down at her, taking the banana from her limp fingers, brushing his hand over her cheek.
"Swan, why are you shaking?"
Was she? She couldn't tell, she just knew that her heart wasn't quite beating at a normal, calm pace yet.
"I… You…" Emma fumbled over her words, not quite sure how to say that he was right. His hands were warm, pleasantly so, a relief after the heat of the creature and the chill of her shock, and she waited for a long moment, closing her eyes, relaxing into his grip. Just a second wouldn't hurt.
Her chest burned as if to remind her of why a second could very much hurt. Hurt her and, just as important, hurt him. She didn't know how she knew, but she just did. The brand, it would lead that thing right to her and right to him if he happened to be with her.
There was only one solution.
"What are you doing?" She demanded, lurching away from his grip.
Startled, it took him a moment to respond, his hands dropping slowly to his sides. "Well, lass, seeing as you took our only weapon, I thought it prudent that we stick together. Besides, haven't you seen any horror movies? Separating ends in death," he said, frowning, something like hurt flickering across his features.
She felt bad about it, considering that wasn't what she was trying to say, but a much bigger part of her couldn't help fighting with him either. "For all I know, you could be the one behind all this as a ruse to kill me."
"This is a horror movie, not some crime show!"
"There's no such thing as ghosts!" Was it a ghost? Was it a monster? Was she crazy?
She wasn't surprised to find that he had a response to that. Did he have to be so stubborn? "Tell that to the bruises on my arse when something pushed me and I nearly fell down the stairs again!"
"Aw, poor baby, do you want me to kiss it better too?" She retorted, biting her lip as soon as she was done because this was so not the time to be flirting with him.
"If you insist, I won't stop you," he replied, eyebrows shooting up.
She scoffed. "Please, you couldn't handle it."
"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."
She wasn't sure what made her think this was a good time or that this was a good idea at all, but she bunched her hands into the collar of his shirt, jerking him to her, pressing her lips to his in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hand coiled into her hair after a second hesitation, drawing her closer, sighing against her lips like this was all he had ever wanted.
Perhaps it was too, he had hinted earlier at his feelings, unwillingly as it might have been, in his desperation to at least be her friend if he could be nothing else. Perhaps she wanted it too, the little protestor inside her head falling silent as he broke back for air before drawing her in again, his lips warm and soft against hers, the kiss turning gentle.
Her fingers tightened on his shirt, heart fluttering and warmth building in her chest. Was this was kissing was like? She had only known the messiness of teenagers and then the roughness of a one-night stand, nothing that made her toes curl or brought a little smile to her face or made her cheeks heat. She broke the kiss slowly, her forehead leaning against his, their breaths mingling together in the small space between them.
"That was— "
"Mm," she agreed, closing her eyes, basking in the moment. It was inappropriate for the circumstances, for the thing after her, after them, and it was a bad idea in general, too many wounds from other people keeping them apart, but… She would enjoy it.
Just for one moment.
One moment too long.
She didn't hear it or see it, but she felt the tension in Killian's embrace and the brand on her chest burned like it was fresh and new. She gasped for air, her forehead dropping to his collar, waiting for the feeling to pass, but it didn't, it only grew till it was nearly crippling, like the brand was bringing all old pains to the surface, no matter how old they were.
"Bloody hell," he breathed, recovering far quicker than she had the first time, taking two large steps back without releasing her. "Is that-?"
"Nothing good," she said, the distance bringing some relief. Not enough to ease the ache completely, but enough that she didn't feel as though waves upon waves were crashing over her. She lifted her head, chancing a look over her shoulder, only feel a slight twinge as she does so. The creature didn't move closer to them; in fact, it appeared to be watching them, despite its lack of a face or any indistinguishable mark.
Like its intentions were something written in the air for them to sense.
Somehow not being able to know for sure was worse than it not having a face.
"Go, move, hurry up," she murmured, unsure of why she was speaking quietly when it would do them no good. The silence around them was suffocating and her whisper seemed to carry. Without looking at it, she could sense amusement and her stomach dropped, her fingers once more fisted around his collar.
He wasn't looking at her, staring over her shoulder with something like awe, his eyes foggy. His grip loosened on her waist. "Killian, come on," she demanded, planting herself in front of him when he made a move to leave her, her panic rising when he tried to get passed her anyway. "Killian!" His eyes drifted down to hers briefly, but no recognition showed, like she was just some obstacle rather than his something more.
She shoved his chest once, pushing him backwards with all her might. He stumbled back, falling on his ass as the creature's fingers brushed so close to her cheeks that her heart lurched, reaching for him and retreating back when Killian fell out of range. She whirled around, stepping back as far as she could without cowering behind him, afraid that he would make a grab for him again.
"Whatever you're doing, knock it off and leave him alone! What the hell do you even want?" She demanded, hands planting on her hips, trying for bravado and sounding more like a preteen that hadn't yet hit puberty. Perhaps it wouldn't notice that.
It has no lips, it can't speak, she told herself. A menacing chuckle hit her ears, grating and high-pitched, her ears burning the longer it continued. The creature shook and she realized the noise might have been coming from the walls, echoing off the tacky wallpaper, but it came from this thing, whatever it may be.
"Swan?" Between one blink and the next, the creature was gone, leaving behind a lingering laugh. "Why am I on the floor? What the bloody hell was that? No, better question, where did it go?"
Rather than reply appropriately, Emma burst out. "We need to go; we need to… just leave. My resume doesn't cover ghosts, or demons, or, or… whatever that was!" She ranted, pacing, scratching her neck. Her nails pricked against the aching skin, but she didn't look at it, afraid of what she would see. Would the skin be raised like a scar? Would it look like the brand she imagined or just a scratch?
He scrambled to his feet, shaken and pale, but not like somebody that was about to go sprinting after that thing in the next few seconds. She was thankful for that because now that the thing was gone, the room seemed less oppressive, less like it was pressing down on her shoulders, and she found that her head ached fiercely without the adrenaline to keep it away. If he did make a run for it, she didn't think she would be able to stop him.
Thankfully, he didn't. Less thankfully, he caught her wrist as she reached for her chest again, eyes alighting on the spot where it had touched her, his brows shooting up. "What happened?"
"Killian, can we just go?" She waved him off impatiently.
"In a minute!"
"You want to stand around for the fucking ghost to come eat us again?"
"Would you just let me look at it?" He said, exasperated and oddly calm for someone who had just seen what they had. More gently, surprisingly so, he added, "Please."
She stilled, shoulders slumping. Carefully, he tilted her chin up, frowning, studying her so intently that she swore he could see her heart thumping in her chest, could see the tremble in her fingers. The urge to run was worse than ever, not because of him and his kiss, she hadn't yet had the time to process that, but because a very real fear was squirming its way through the bravado and the adrenaline. Only his hand on her chin, more soothing than it had any right to be, kept her from bolting.
"I don't generally have people frowning when they look at my chest," she joked weakly, unable to stand the silence for a second longer.
Killian snorted. It was a ridiculous noise, but oddly endearing. "No, I imagine they don't, but we'll come back to that later, lass," he promised, thumbing the dimple in her chin before taking a step away from her. "I think it'll be fine, but I don't relish leaving it unattended for much longer unless you want a nasty scar."
"Henry will delight in this story," she muttered, lightly touching the mark, before shaking her head roughly. "Stop distracting me! We need to leave before that… that thing comes back!" Without conscious thought, Emma grabbed his wrist, jerking him around to the staircase that lead down, dragging him along with her.