"Looking for a Heart that's not Walking Away"
chapter three: trying to believe in our silent own way
They have finished watching The Italian Job – a dashing caper movie which both Emma and Killian can appreciate – Henry has wondered off to his own room with his comics and video games, and Emma is snuggled into Killian's side huddled under his arm and growing drowsy, when it occurs to her consciously that Liam has yet to make his way back. Raising her head a fraction from its place against her pirate's warm, sturdy chest to look up at him sideways, she smirks at him slightly when she asks, "Did you expect him to be out this long?" with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Killian looks down on his love's upturned face, marveling at the light wreathing her features right along with the curve of her pretty smile. Brushing the metal curve of his hook through the strands of her golden hair, Killian cannot help the warmth he feels spreading from his heart outward in the glow of her brilliance and affection. Emma had not let him in easily, and he had wondered if they would ever reach the place they are in now – where she looks up at him with love clear in her eyes and cuddles even closer into his embrace rather than pulling back or closing herself up in fear.
Smiling back easily, he wraps his hook arm more snugly around her lithe form and brings his fingers up to her chin, thumb resting against the adorable dimple there. "Well, Swan, truth be told, I had my suspicions."
"You think your brother is interested in Belle?" Emma asks, looking both pleased and intrigued with the idea.
"I think he hates to see anyone alone or in pain if he is in a position to help. It goes against his very nature to see anyone abandoned or tossed aside," Killian swallows hard here and pauses before making himself add, "What our father did to he and I when we were young could well play a part in that. At any rate, Belle is so kind, so good, and the idea that she is with child, her husband gone, and with no one to really lean on is 'bad form' – oh yes, Swan, it was Liam who taught me that." He nudges her at her snort of laughter and winks roguishly. "He simply cannot resist."
"Neither of you seem able to resist when an available woman is involved," Emma shoots back, having to jibe her pirate just a bit.
"I don't know about that," Killian replies, but waggles his eyebrows enough to belie his words and make her roll her eyes affectionately. "However, I do think he is drawn to her. I never really saw the spark in his eyes for any woman we met back in our realm when we sailed together as he had for Belle today when she showed him the library and discussed the nautical adventures they've both enjoyed reading."
Emma winds her arms around Killian's torso and squeezes him in an impulsive hug, resting her cheek against his chest where it peeks from the open neck of his shirt and then mumbles into his warm skin, "Good. I hope he can be some comfort to her. She's been through a lot of heartache – not to mention all that your brother has suffered and the ages he spent alone in the Underworld – they both deserve some happiness. All the better if they can find it with each other."
"I couldn't agree more, Swan," her pirate agrees, words husky with feeling as he bends to press his lips to the crown of her head in a grateful kiss. "Why wouldn't I wish for Liam the type of healing you have brought me?"
Tears of joy prick the corners of Emma's eyes at Killian's words, knowing all too well just what her pirate means – the hurt, anger, and scars that he has overcome with the help of one who loves him. She only wishes she could fully express and make clear to him how he has performed much the same miracle for her. "You know I feel the same way about you, right?" Emma asks, looking up to latch onto his blue gaze with her own adoringly. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she thinks back to the angry, hard, closed-off woman she had been not-so-very long ago; so lonely, but so afraid of being hurt another time that she didn't know how to reach out and let herself free from her self-imposed prison. Henry, and the rest of her family had begun to thaw the cold frost she used to protect her heart, but until Killian had finally managed to completely shatter the barrier, she had not realized just how much she could feel, how happy she could be at letting someone in to help her bear the burdens she carried.
Craning her neck a bit, Emma stretches up from her comfortable spot curled at his side to place a chaste kiss to the underside of Killian's jaw. Brushing her fingers along the strong, stubbled line there, she whispers fervently and for him alone, "Both of them deserve something this good."
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Heedless of the fact that the large, antique grandfather clock looking down at them from the corner of the living room has passed one in the morning, Belle Gold and Liam Jones sit around the ornate mahogany table, tea service and biscuits spread out before them and munching in contented and companionable quiet. Neither feels half as sleepy as they probably should and can really only attribute it to enjoying the company of a newfound friend with a sympathetic ear and equally sleepless tendencies.
"These biscuits with the glaze and shaved almond are delicious, Lass," Liam compliments while his companion blushes and dips her head modestly across from him. "Did you make them yourself?"
"I did," Belle confirms with a pleased note in her voice. "I'm not much of a cook in general, but these were my mother's favorite recipe. After I lost her, I made sure I mastered at least that one, so I could have them and remember her. She taught me to treasure the simple things I love," she adds more slowly, her voice a bit melancholic, but nostalgia for remembered good times within her tone as well. "My love of books came from her too."
"She sounds like a wise woman," Liam offers, struck again by the kinship he feels with this petite librarian and the urge to be of comfort to her. "Killian and I lost our mother early as well. Killian was in fact quite young. And…well…what I do remember of her is precious to me also."
Belle nods, and they sit quietly for some moments, not awkward, but merely enjoying a sort of silent rapport and comfort. She nibbles the tiniest, most delicate bite of her dessert biscuit, the food tasting better to her than anything has since her morning sickness kicked in and her return from the Underworld, and looking at him over the table, eyelashes fluttering guilelessly as gentle warmth zings across the space between them. When Liam speaks again, Belle feels the same sort of heat throughout her limbs – a sensation she has never really encountered before. "You will be the very same sort of giving, incredible mum that we both remember having ourselves, I'll wager."
The words are soft, lulling and peaceful in that lilting accent she has noted before from Killian but which is even more pronounced from her evening's companion. More than that, Belle is touched to the core by the gentle faith and confidence expressed in his words. With the almost-perfect, sainted position her mother holds in her memory and the inauspicious beginning her baby's first few months growing within her and the trauma with its father have wrought, Belle has had her doubts at just how well she would provide for her unborn child, and the fact that someone believes in her is inexplicably bolstering.
Without even realizing how it has happened, Belle looks down at the empty plate in the table's center to see that all the biscuits are gone. She flushes with embarrassment, wondering just how ravenously she has been stuffing her face in front of this man she finds herself wanting to think well of her.
In response, Liam merely gives her the smallest quirk of a smile, prying the lid from one of Snow's Tupperware containers and edging what she discovers is blackberry cobbler toward her. "Go on," he urges, handing her a fork and taking another sip of his tea. "I can attest to how good that is. There's no need to be embarrassed if you're still hungry, Lass. You are eating for two after all."
Belle isn't sure whether to be mollified or mortified by his urging, but she can't resist digging into the leftovers before her. "Mhmm…" she hums as the tangy fruit and sugary crust hit her tongue, eyes slipping closed in bliss. When they open again, she can see Liam watching her closely in a way she almost doesn't recognize, so rarely has she found herself inspiring it. Still, the flicker of interest in his blue gaze makes her heart rate triple and she almost wants to giggle with nervous exhilaration at the sight of him swallowing hard and seemingly having to rein in some sort of physical reaction of his own.
She tries to bypass the awkwardly heated moment they have stumbled into and gestures to the cobbler in front of her with the fork. "Thank you for thinking of me and bringing these over," she says with bashful gratitude. "I haven't had much appetite in the last couple weeks. Very little has set well with me, even though I know I need to eat for this one," she pats her small baby bump fondly, "but this food seems to be doing the trick, so thank you."
Liam raises his eyes to hers then surprises her by winking roguishly – a move that would have made his pirate brother proud – and saying, "Or perhaps it's the company you're sharing it with."
Belle's breath catches in surprise for a moment, pulse fluttering and unsure how to respond. Liam has dropped his head and looks to be fumbling to word an apology for his forwardness, when she lays a soft hand atop his and offers him a tiny, playful smirk, "Perhaps it is."
Their late night snack binge and conversation continues easily from there, neither of them able to remember when they last felt so genuinely seen by someone else and comforted in that other's presence and understanding. It's hard to want the moment to end. The longer they sit together relaxing somewhat from the initial awkwardness of new acquaintances, the more Liam finds that he feels protectiveness swell within him for the lovely young woman before him. Though her skin is flawless and appears soft enough to make his calloused fingers itch to brush along her cheek, it is still troublingly pale and the purple bruises under her eyes are blatantly plain, striking him with a pang of empathetic hurt on her behalf.
He knows how many of his hours and ages of endless worry and hurt over no longer being there for his younger brother – how he had failed Killian, and the way Killian had lived his pain, alienation, and focus on nothing but revenge – so he can all too well understand the guilt Belle seems to be feeling now. Yet, though he is familiar with the emotion, enough unfinished business to keep him from crossing over to his reward because of his fear for Killian's lost happiness, he cannot fathom why this sweet, loving woman, kindness seeping from her every pore irresistibly, who by all accounts had done nothing wrong beyond trying to find and restore the man beneath a powerful monster, surely she could not blame herself for the loss of the Dark One? He had been a prisoner of Hades' domain for more than long enough to know that one did not deal lightly with the Lord of the Dead – no matter what sort of power he might possess in the mortal world. How did this fair slip of a maid think she could have altered events?
Just as Belle had done earlier in their conversation, Liam reaches forward to cover her hand with his, rubbing his thumb lightly over her knuckles. "Lass," he murmurs huskily, dipping his head to catch her lowered gaze and make sure she is hearing him as he gives his thoughts voice, "you cannot blame yourself for what happened to Rumplestiltskin. There is nothing you could have done against the God of the Underworld, the brother of Zeus himself. Surely you – you must know that."
Belle shakes her head slightly, to his distress not looking at all convinced of his words, but her smile in return is appreciative, and he feels his old heart turn over just slightly when she doesn't pull her hand away, but instead turns it over within his grasp to link their fingers together, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Capt – Liam," she whispers, speaking his given name for the first time instead of his title, after the last few hours realizing that she feels she truly knows him. "I wish I could believe that."
"You must," he urges fervently, not letting her look away. "You cannot hold something of this magnitude over yourself. It will eat away at you, weaken you, make you sick, and…it isn't good for the little one…" he trails off there, eyes glancing to where her other hand rests on the small, rounded swell of her stomach, no further words necessary.
"You're right, of course," she allows shakily. "I know that, deep down…but it's hard. I feel as though I failed Rumple…and myself…and our child." She blinks back a few tears that tremble on her dark lashes, but bites her lip and says no more.
"I understand the feeling of letting down someone you meant to help," he answers, hesitantly wishing his words to be right, "but I do not see how you have failed here, Belle. True, I have not heard your whole story, but from what I have seen and from what I have been told, all you did was try to love an impossible man Your only mistake was setting yourself a goal no one could have accomplished."
The librarian in her sanctuary doesn't argue with him, doesn't say anything at all in response, merely uses her free hand to brush away the tears which have escaped down her cheeks and draws in a shaky breath. When she does speak again, she takes him by surprise with her change in topic. "You still feel responsibility for Killian, don't you?" she asks, her intelligent brown eyes clearly showing she has already discerned the answer. "When your father left you both, you were still young yourself, but you became as much Killian's guardian as his brother, didn't you?" Her smile is so caring, so understanding as she continues, squeezing the hand she still holds in her own more tightly, giving him a watery but hopeful smile. "Didn't leave you much childhood for yourself, did it?"
"I did my best by him, aye," Liam affirms, though not elaborating. After all this time his mind runs more to how wrong things went after the treasured closeness and trust they had once shared, their time rising through the ranks of the Royal Navy and their hero's quest.
"I am sorry that you had to give up your childhood," Belle offers, her voice so soft and sincere that he finds himself blinking furiously at moisture behind his own eyes, tears for a wound that he has never really allowed himself to grieve. "I would never belittle your pains and what you have lived through. I know it's very different, but my mother was killed by ogres when I was still an early teen. Loss like that causes a person to grow up very quickly, and I understand that a bit. Yet, regardless of the sacrifices and hardships, I think I already know you well enough to assume that you wouldn't change it either. You wouldn't leave Killian without your love and support if you could do it over, would you?"
"Certainly not," Liam answers assertively. "You have the right of it there. I wasn't able to do all for him that I would have wished. But what pains it did bring me…when I was able to see my little brother smile, or make things better for even a moment or two…they were worth it. And as for understanding…I'm sure you do, Lass," he adds, returning soft pressure to her fingers, "and I am sorry for your losses as well. Having my mother for that long would have been a precious gift, but it would have made her death even more devastating when it came."
Big brown eyes full of sadness, but also a still unquenchable measure of hope lock on his as Belle rises slowly and comes around the table to stand before him, looking uncertain but determined. "I think you did the very best you could for Killian. And he adores you for it. You're his hero, Liam. Anyone can see that. Even when he was living as a villain, he still had honor – a code – some level of decency that wouldn't degenerate. He learned that from you, as well as how to love wholly and unselfishly. I want that for my child…s-somehow. And I'm scared…I don't have any idea what I'm doing as a parent. Think you'd be willing to offer some free advice here and there?" Her bottom lip wobbles badly as she asks this last while still trying to bravely smile.
Liam nods his assent and opens his arms without hesitation. She leans wearily against his chest once he does so, and he wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering against her hair. "Of course I will, Lass. At any time. You aren't alone in this. So many here in this town want to help you, however they can." What he doesn't say aloud is how good her small frame feels in his arms, how he won't let her go until she pulls away first, and how he may not understand it, but he would do anything to help her and ease her pain.