Hello, my lovelies. Thank you to all who reviewed as usual. Hope you enjoy :)
"So. What are we discussing today, Jones?"
"Peter Pan."
"Hm. Which version are we talking here?"
"I'm offended you even had to ask, Swan." Killian remarked dryly. "Why, the animated version, of course."
"A classics man. I'm impressed. How do you like it so far?"
"Well, I do feel rather sorry for this James fellow. All he was after is a little pirating fun. I doubt he was actually going to slaughter the Lost Boys, correct?"
"I never thought so."
Emma fell into silence for a moment. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head upon them, enjoying the comfortable sensation of newly washed denim soft against her flushed cheeks.
At least once a day, the pair had been continuing to frequently chat during Emma's lunch break. Often informally, and yes, sometimes a little awkwardly and shy, they'd discuss their days, the band's progress, and their little enjoyments outside of work. Killian's recording breaks were usually set around 8am, which aligned in perfect harmony with Emma's noon break, and their hourly talks seemed to pass by more and more quickly each time.
Occasionally, Robin, Victor or David would shout out a hello, or cheekily slip in a knowing remark about the sudden inspiration of Killian's song writing.
Two weeks had flown by without offering time for pause or thought. Thank the gods for that, else I may, as Ruby so poetically dubs it, 'freak out', Emma thought to herself. Just as she considered reading further into just how okay she truly was, a quiet voice cut through the moment.
"You alright there, Swan?"
Emma jumped with a start, registering Killian's gentle enquiry with a muttered curse. Oh, hell.
"Yeah. I uh, sorry, where were we...oh!" She winced then, and slapped a shameful hand against her forehead. "Right. Peter Pan."
For once, Emma was grateful Killian was unable to notice the awkward shade of scarlet she was now sporting. A cough later, and she attempted to get back on track. "It's just...Peter Pan was my favourite film as a kid. Guess there was always something appealing about running around Neverland with a group of friends."
She smiled fondly, remembering a moment when she was around six or seven and had curled up with another foster kid, a shy little girl called Ella until they fell asleep on the settee. Encouraged by Killian's listening silence, she added, "Growing up, I had a copy of it that I took everywhere. I guess it was my comfort pillow, you know?"
Only silence greeted her, like a mournful ghost echoing its fate to an empty room. To an empty audience. Ignoring the growing heat licking painful flames over her cheeks and collar bone, Emma teased the red button on the phone, moments away from cancelling the call.
Congratulations. You had to go and push him away. Beads of sweat slipped her thumb nearer to the red button. You went too far this time. Too. Damn. Far. He doesn't care about-
"Aye. I understand, Swan."
Hand still hovering over the phone, Emma's brow rose as she tilted her head against the mobile. "You...you do?" She flinched at the sound of the timid, meek voice that presented her as that same fearful child still.
There was a brief pause, and then, "The Jungle Book."
"Hm?"
A low chuckle travelled down the line, warm and quiet, like an encouraging whisper of respect. Emma's hand distanced from the red button, and came to rest upon her knee again. "My favourite film, and blanket, growing up. The Jungle Book."
"Oh, sorry. I've never seen it."
Killian gave a mock gasp, and she bit back a laugh. "I disown you, Swan, until further notice."
"Please. You couldn't handle not talking to me even for a day."
"Is that a challenge?"
"No." Emma blurted out a little too quickly. She didn't need another reason to appear so sickeningly yearning. Life wasn't a rom-com for god's sake. It needed to be earned carefully.
"My, my." Killian quipped, and she could almost feel the gleeful smirk brushing against the phone. "Eager today, aren't we?"
"Shut up, Jones."
"Make me."
"I can cut you off, you know." Emma warned, but it was a pathetically empty threat, and even she knew it.
However Killian replied with a hasty, "Please don't."
"I won't. Not yet anyway."
"You hurt me, Swan."
"Apologies. So, The Jungle Book, hm?"
"Ah, yes. A brilliant, cinematic masterpiece of music, friendship and songs. You really must see it, love. It'll change your life."
Killian paused again, and she waited a moment, unsure of whether to comment or allow a moment to pass. Every pause was significant, and if Killian was anything like her, it invited the chance to delve a little deeper.
"I remember Liam and I used to watch it whenever our parents were away on business." He admitted quietly. "Which was an awful lot."
And there it is. Emma thought, though not unkindly. Although she'd been right, barely felt a flicker of surprise registered. We're more alike than I thought. Or dared to hope.
When Killian spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse, and Emma identified it instantly, understanding the pain of vulnerability as an emotion close to heart. She hated the way his voice dipped and wavered with sorrow, and desperately wanted to hear his low laugh or teasing quips again, but instead, she simply listened.
"He'd always tease me every time, claim it was childish and boring, but I knew he secretly loved it just as much as I did. You know, Swan, it's been almost twenty bloody years and I miss him still."
A protective ache washed over her. "I'm sorry, Killian."
Losing people was a rare event that Emma had never gone through as she'd not ever known people long enough to lose them. Friends were merely acquaintances. Colleagues were simply workmates. Hell, it had taken her all but four years to form a strong friendship with Ruby, and no one before had tried so hard to get behind those damn walls.
"You'd think it would be easier by now but it still feels like an open wound."
"Well, he was your brother." Emma reasoned.
"He was a stubborn bastard, that's a certain. Knew all the dangers yet still went out like the bloody hero he dreamed of becoming."
Killian broke off with a forced chuckle, and she was painfully aware of the laboured rhythm in-between his breathes. Once again, it was all too familiar with Emma, who could remember fighting back tears as though it were her damn life goal to weep a pathway through life.
"It...do I even have a right to be angry, Emma?" He asked in quiet reflection. There was little comfort to be gained, but both Killian and Emma knew that somehow airing those anxieties and painful memories helped a great deal. "I feel guilty as hell whenever I curse his name, but I can't stop feeling this..."
"Emptiness." She finished quietly, knowing all too well the swelling rage of self-contempt and bitterness towards another.
Another understanding silence overwhelmed the early afternoon. Killian then sighed, and his usual careful composure began to resurface. "I feel as though I need to forgive him. Which is beyond absurd as all Liam did was accidently die. He didn't leave on purpose, I know that, but it doesn't make it any easier."
Now it was Emma's turn to sigh. A heavy weight residing in her stomach exhaled, memories of abandonment finally having the chance to surface and possibly, fade into words. After listening to Killian's confession, a small part of Emma felt as though she'd owned up to her own fears.
It would never be easy or relaxing to talk about the past. Especially one of regret and shame. But it was easier to talk to someone who understood. Someone who'd not only gone through similar loss, but knew when to speak, what to say, and most importantly, when to listen. And Killian was just that person. Her person.
Well, not mine. He's not mine.
A hopeful voice whispered, 'not yet', but she quickly hushed it.
"Swan," Killian seemed tentative now, that small waver back in his voice once again. He spoke cautiously, his words carefully thought out, as though saying simply one wrong word would be out of line. "Have you forgiven your ex?"
Oh.
"My...ex?"
"The one who broke your heart. Have you forgiven him?"
A sudden snap later, and that recognisable constriction of fear tightened around Emma's stomach, like a waistband of bubbling anxiety. Any attempt at breathing seemed impossible. Drawing her knees up again, Emma ignored the childish instinct to curl into a ball, or to draw herself further in, and in, into a warm cocoon of innocence and-
"Swan? I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm forthright without meaning to be. If I was out of place, which I now fear I was, forgive me. I shouldn't have...well, that wasn't entirely gentlemanly of me."
Emma coughed in surprise. "How did you...I never...?" She protested weakly.
Curiosity over how the hell Killian had worked it out won out over the fear of the past, perhaps only for a moment, but it still conquered. He'd not only hit the nail on the head of the Emma Swan's childhood-and-past-issues box, but had deemed it easy to discover as well.
"Open book."
She choked back a gasp.
"Well, not entirely." Killian admitted. He then continued to breeze on as Emma gaped, jaw dropped wide in undignified surprise, and listened.
"I worked it out after a while. The first sign was your wonderfully vigorous roommate, Ruby. See, I thought, why would she take your romantic life into her own hands, unless she seemed it approprate? After that, it was fairly simple. Either you've cut yourself off from dating because a, a previous love went wrong, or b, you're a workaholic. I assumed the first after reading your first letter. Irony and dry humour act as a barrier, and Swan, believe me, you use them to a marvellous extent."
He gave a low laugh, and then sobered to quietly add, "Besides, I'd recognise the sound of a kindred cynic with a broken heart anywhere. Building walls around your heart...I suppose it's a sound I know all too well, Swan, and I respect it."
No words could fully explain the variation of emotions Emma felt in that moment. As she'd sadly thought before, no one had ever made such an attempt to understand on that deeper level. Hope had been disregarded that anyone ever would.
So, finding Killian, someone who also carried around a difficult past, waiting to share not only companionship and peace, but also the pain of difficult journeys not quite finished yet, was a goddamn miracle for Emma.
Eyes closed, she quickly pressed her chin firmly down on her raised knees to seize the quivering of her lower lips. I'll be damned if i start crying just at the mention of...him.
Opening her eyes again, Emma took a moment to savour the sun glistening down on the harbour. Pastels of pinks and oranges streaked across the blue sky, and there was barely a cloud in sight.
Oh, hell.
Suddenly realising she'd left Killian on the phone; she straightened out her shoulders and mentally shook herself back into reality.
"Sorry, I'm...still here."
"I know."
Wishing there was an easy way to simply start, Emma ran a hand along the concrete bench she was sitting upon and sighed.
Assertiveness had always been a strong point, so she used it now, reflecting it inwards to the remote, empty parts of her heart beginning to be released. I can do this. Killian's here with me. I can do this. I will do this.
She nodded once for good measure. Here goes...
"Neal. His name was Neal."
Unsure of what she'd been expecting, there was no sudden relief, however the tight band of fear crippling her stomach did indeed loosen, so she quickly carried on before it protested.
"We were both seventeen. I uh, met him in a car park, actually."
"Romantic."
"Shut up, Jones."
"I'm sorry. Continue."
"He wasn't a bad guy or anything. Just that...we were both messed up in our own ways. It was never meant to last. I had my issues, Neal, his. I fell in love with him, like the naïve teenage girl I was, and it all went downhill from then on."
Emma paused, staring out into the water and seeking courage in the relapsing waves and calming dips and dives of the tide. "One day, we both got reckless and cocky and tried to rob a convenient store downtown. You know,"
Surprise flickered across Emma's face when a small laugh escaped her lips. "I actually remember thinking it was the most daring, badass moment of my life...and then I got arrested."
Her smile dropped, fading almost in the same instant it formed. "Turns out I'm not as fast a runner as I thought I was. I got caught, arrested, the same day." She swallowed away any fear and stared back out into the waves.
"And Neal?"
"Ran." Emma said quickly.
Thinking back to the moment of her arrest, the singular shot that stood out, like a painful freeze-frame imprinted forever around Emma's walls, was watching Neal's faded jeans and messy curls disappear from her life as he fled around the corner. That moment struck her the most. How easy could it be to simply get up and leave? Apparently, very easy. The young, love-craving Emma felt that betrayal every day for years. She questioned how easy and carefree some people could abandon others, without a goodbye or check-up.
"I mean, we never made any promises to go back or wait for each other, but..."
"How long did you wait for him?"
"A year."
"Gods."
"Yeah." Emma grimaced, her lips now set in a thin line. "I didn't take it too well, as you know."
"Understandable."
"Thanks."
"And you never saw Neal again?"
Emma shrugged, and then realising the gesture was pointless, hurried on, "Oh. No. I tried searching for him, but the guy knew how to bury himself too well. God knows what trouble he's up to now. After a year, I gave up. Found a profession more worthy of my time, and also more accepted by the law, and never looked back. Until recently."
"Ah, sorry."
"It's fine. Really, it is. It doesn't feel as bad to talk about as I feared it would. Not nice, but...peaceful, I guess. I suspect it's not the healthiest of options to keep one's past locked up for years."
"Too right, lass."
"I'd better get back soon. Our hours' almost up, Jones."
"Are those two lovely ladies still giving you hassle?"
Emma grinned at the reminder. "They are."
Usually, a bails bondsperson worked individually, but ever since she'd transferred to another department two years ago, she'd worked down at the sheriff's department; taking part in general tasks such as filing, call managing and coffee runs.
Since the changeover, Emma had also made a conscious effort to get to know the two other women who worked in the department, Mary-Margaret and Belle, and she was pleased she'd done so. Petite and loving to all those she met, Mary-Margaret, adored mother hen of the entire station, was as close to a mother as Emma had ever come furthest to having. On the other hand, Belle, whilst equally dainty and quiet, had opened up to having an adventurous streak and Emma regarded both women with fondness, always grateful for their company.
Killian laughed heartily. "Do say hello for me, Swan."
"Will do."
She then reconsidered.
After all, it was just that morning that Mary-Margaret inquired about Killian for the fourth time that week - and it was only now Tuesday afternoon - to which Emma denied the claims of hiding her new 'gorgeous, mysterious boyfriend slash rock god hottie' from them. Laughing as they groaned and begged for details, Emma fled the department at noon with a victorious grin and headed towards the harbour to call Killian.
"On another hand, let's not give them another reason to start picking out flower arrangements."
"Oh?" Killian's voice was teasing now. Once again, the low, playful quip sent delightful shivers along Emma's spine. "Wedding plans? Already?"
Hell.
"Well, would you look at the time? How it flies by!" Emma retorted dryly, and stood from the bench to stretch out her wooden legs. "I really must be off. Goodbye, Jones."
"Wait, wait, Swan. Not so fast."
Emma hid a growl of disapproval and began to roll out her shoulders, relaxing into the stretch whilst keeping a steady hold over the phone
Damn it, let me go.
He was silent for a moment then, the only sound coming from his quiet breathes echoing down the phone. Despite the distance, there was a close proximity that felt intimate, and Emma felt it like a magnetic pull.
"I just wanted to say thank you." He began, finally, after what felt like minutes but was most likely mere seconds. "For...sharing your past, again."
"And thank you for listening." Emma started to walk along the harbour, back to the office, and as a gentle breeze urged her onwards, she quietly added, "I'm glad I didn't scare you away."
As soon as the words were spoken, she felt the tension snap once again, and every tightened muscle and anxiety began to unwind and relax into a surprisingly comfortable, vulnerable state.
"Never." Killian reassured firmly.
Although his reply softened the walls around her heart, Emma dejected there was still at least ten years' worth of issues to break through. So although her reply was quiet, and perhaps at a glance, sad, it was also wistfully hopeful. "I almost believe that."
"Perhaps one day you will. Until the next time, Swan."
"Goodbye, Jones."
"Robin," Killian called across the room, hanging up the phone with a pleased grin. His latest conversation with Emma was one of the longest yet, and the most gratifying and memorable one also. There had always been a natural flow between them, but it seemed to grow and spark with every new day, and Killian felt renewed with a wistful hope he hadn't felt in years.
Gods, I may be falling for Emma Swan, he realised, and an even bigger grin captured Killian's expression.
"Oi, mate...?" He waved an arm in Robin's direction, but to no avail could he capture the guitarist's attention, for he was too lost in scribbling down chords across the other side of the studio. They were soon about to get cracking with another track on the album.
Finally, Robin looked up with a sheepish nod. "Mmhm? Sorry, Jones, miles away." He scratched his ear and offered Killian a bashful smile. "You were asking?"
The corners of Killian's lips pulled into a grin spreading ear to ear.
"How much do you reckon a plane ticket is to New York?"
Love to you all, and I'll try and update as soon as I can :)
