Four

His silence would have been disconcerting to anyone else, but she thought she knew him well enough to detect what the different facial expressions on his face were. The crease to his brow told her he was in deep thought, but the way he mouthed words told her that it wasn't anything unpleasant. No doubt he was debating what his next question would be.

If somebody had told her a few weeks ago that she was actually enjoying her time on the train then she would think they were foolishly mistaken, but then most of them hadn't spent time with Killian Jones. Their time together was brief – from the time she got on till his stop, they only had around an hour and a half together, unless the train decided to mess up as it so frequently did – but it was already a routine that Emma thoroughly enjoyed.

She hadn't yet forgotten the first time she knowingly took a seat across from him. Her own face was red, both from the galling wind as a storm blew through the city and also from the knowledge that she was actively seeking him out, as she took a seat across from him, realizing belatedly that he was asleep. Henry squeaked and Killian shot up, eyes wide, till he realized it was them and then he smiled, somewhat sleepily.

She had wanted to apologize, but all she did was laugh as she spotted the red splotch on his face from where his face had been leaning on his hand.

"What's your favorite color of the sunset?"

His voice broke her from the memory. For the last few weeks, they had spent a majority of the time asking questions back and forth or playing a game with Henry. Only once they had fallen into a lull in conversation after a too deep question – her fault, really, when the question of where he used to live was turned back on her– and since then, they hadn't moved away from mundane things.

Thankfully. She might have been receptive to a friendship, but a still too big part of her held tight to her secrets and her past. All the better, really, since their friendship was one of convenience, even if that made her heart ache more than it should. Friends was such a foreign concept that she hardly knew the difference.

"Umm…" Emma bit her lip, thinking about the last time she had really looked at a sunset. They had come and gone so often, so meaninglessly too, that she hadn't paid much attention to them. Even a glance out the window offered little help, the sky dark and twinkling instead. "The reds and purples, I think."

"Think?" He prodded gently, his voice quiet. Henry had fallen asleep sometime back, sprawled across the seats opposite them. Emma had relocated to sit beside Killian just ten minutes prior. Being so close to him was both a curse and a pleasure. His shoulder often bumped into hers on turns, a pleasant warmth flooding her every time he smiled apologetically, but they could whisper, their voices not waking Henry. Not that whispering helped much, bringing their faces close together, leaving Emma flustered and thrilled in equal measure.

"I don't really spend much time watching the sky," she answered honestly. Her feet had always been firmly lodged in the ground, perhaps unwillingly so, and Emma didn't much look at the sky when so often things would pull her back down. Because he looked too serious at her reply, she nudged his shoulder. "What about you?"

He answered immediately. "The blue."

"Why?"

"The darker blue, I should say, the one that could be a dark purple as well. It's when you see just a glint of the sun, but all the other stars are beginning to show," he said fondly, eyes flickering briefly to the window. A few stars poked through the pollution of the lights. When his gaze returned to her, his eyes were soft. "It's like you're standing between two worlds for a few minutes and everything else just… falls away. Little things don't really matter anymore."

"That sounds nice," she said, feeling wholly inadequate at replying to something that sounded deep and personal.

Killian understood though, smiling gently. He tilted his head as something occurred to him. "Liam doesn't understand entirely when I explain it to him. I don't think he understands anything I do though."

She should end the subject there. Gently, of course, she had no wish to trample over his thoughts and feelings, even if they were getting into territory that was dangerous. Instead, she said hesitantly, "Why do you say that?"

Uncomfortable, he scratched behind his ear. "My brother has been my guardian since I was around eight and I suspect he expected me to turn out differently than I have."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she noted, studying him. "But I don't think any of us turn out how our parents – or guardians – suspect." Not that she would know from experience, her own parents were as nameless and faceless as any other stranger. For all she knew, they lived in a different country now or had more kids or were in prison or were dead. No matter where they were, they didn't much care how she turned out.

If she thought about it, Emma thought they probably hadn't intended for her to turn out to be anything. How else could they justify dropping a newborn off on the side of the road just hours after her birth?

Killian snorted. "You're right, I don't think our biological bastard expected Liam to turn out the way he has. He's a good man – my brother, that is. Not my father." Nothing about his words suggested it, but Emma caught his lack of mention in the thought. Like only his brother was worthy of the recognition, the only one who succeeded.

She frowned, biting her tongue as she thought of how to reply, but held back as she saw the dark look on his face. Intense, angry – his eyes faraway as a distant memory tugged on him. Like a cloud passing over the sun, Emma thought, watching him. She turned her head away, checking on Henry briefly, giving him the space to wrestle it back, not wanting to witness a pain that wasn't hers to watch.

When she chanced a look back, he was rubbing his eyes. Not from tears, as she initially feared, but from a weariness that hadn't been so apparent until then. As though the fight had taken more out of him than it should.

Guilty flooded her. "You should sleep before you get to your stop, we still have another twenty minutes," she said, estimating the time.

Killian blinked, shaking his head. Though he was tired, the space beneath his eyes purple and his eyelids heavy, when he smiled, it was as though the rest of that wasn't there. "I'll be fine, lass. No need to waste a few valuable minutes on shut eye."

Her stomach didn't flutter at all. Or maybe it did, but it wasn't with butterflies, she wasn't so easily swayed by the implication in words. She blamed it on the shifting of the train as it beat along the tracks, not at all on the way he looked at her or the way he spoke of her. As though the last few minutes had faded away for him at the reminder of her presence.

You're reading way too much into this, Emma.

"It's not like this is the last time you'll see me," she pointed out seriously. "We'll see each other two days from now." They both had a day off, her tomorrow and the day after, him just tomorrow, and as such it meant two days of not seeing each after nearly three weeks of seeing each other just about every day.

He threw an arm over his eyes, nearly giving himself a concussion with his cast. "Two days is too long, how shall I cope?" he said, trying for dramatic, but falling short when a yawn cut off his words and cracked his jaw.

"You're a needy friend," she scolded, nudging his shoulder. It was somewhat relieving to be back to banter rather than a topic that was too deep and too heavy and… too much everything really. "Now go to sleep."

Killian cocked a brow. "Will you rock me to sleep like you do Henry if I refuse?"

"No, but I can hit you, if that'll help?"

"Positive that's abuse."

"You're not my kid," she said, shrugging. Technically, it would be assault.

"Thank the gods for that."

She didn't know if that was an insult to her parenting or an unintended declaration of his feelings so she scrunched her nose at him, staring him down, till he surrendered with a loud sigh. Both their gazes flickered to Henry realizing that they hadn't been very quiet, but he snoozed on, laying on his stomach, his blanket scrunched beneath his head like a pillow.

"Fine, you win, remind me to unleash you upon unruly customers with a look like that, you'll frighten them right into submission," he said, much quieter, edging away from her to lean heavily against the window. Emma stood to give him room, about to suggest that he prop his legs up and lean his back against the window rather than his shoulder, which looked awfully uncomfortable, when he shook his head. "Where are you going?"

"Sit next to Henry," she said, confused.

"You'll either wake him up trying to move him." She scoffed; he clearly underestimated her ability to move him without waking him. No need to tell him that it was often a case of luck. "-or you'll have to sit half off the seat. Just stay here, it doesn't bother me."

Emma shook her head, still standing. Her hand rested on the seat, not wishing to slip on the train anymore this year than she already had – especially not in front of him. Not that it would matter as his eyes started to drift closed. "That's not very comfortable looking."

"Actually, I'm quite used to it."

"You're also used to falling over when the train turns, that doesn't mean it's good for you." She lowered her voice, wondering if he could fall asleep before he finished this conversation.

Killian thought about this for a moment. "Don't you think laying on my back would make me more likely to fall?"

"True." She didn't sit still, shifting on her feet. There was something very different between sitting next to a friend while you talked to them and sitting next to them as they slept. It was almost... Well, she thought it was more intimate than it should be, which was ridiculous when she put it into thought, but…

It took trust to sleep next to someone and maybe that was the part that befuddled her.

"I've slept in worse places – and on a train next to a friend doesn't make it close to the top twenty on that list," he said gently, one of his eyes opening to squint at her.

She nodded slowly and he opened his other eye, watching her, till she sat down beside him once more.

He fell asleep within seconds, snoring lightly a few minutes later, his expression smoothed out and almost innocent, mouth falling open as he breathed. Across from them, Henry snorted in his sleep, shifting his hands, and she pressed her fingers against her lips to hold back her laughter.

They weren't related at all, but one wouldn't be able to tell from the mirrored looks on their sleeping faces, straight down to the small furrow that appeared in their brows as something happened in their dreams.

Her head fell back against the seat, sighing quietly as she rested her hands across her stomach. Despite the slight chill to the air still, his warmth right beside her was like a personal space heater and she found herself fighting the urge to close her own eyes with them.

She lost that battle, the sound of their snores and the hum of the train lulling her to sleep.

When Killian woke, it was to an unexpected weight on one shoulder and something hard against another, leaving him squished between the two. He didn't know what either of them were, his brain too foggy from his nap to make sense of where he was – or even who he was for a brief moment till his sleepy mind recalled that he was still Killian Jones and sleep hadn't changed that.

The thing on his shoulder smelled nice, a perfume of sorts wafting up to his nose that smelled of flowers, and he inhaled, tilting his head towards the scent, hair brushing his cheek.

It was a person.

He frowned, forcing his eyes open one at a time.

Emma leaned heavily on her shoulder, her face scrunched. Even in sleep, her thoughts were too much to give her some peace and he fought the urge to stroke her cheek, as though his touch would somehow ease the tension that wrinkled her brow, but he held back. He didn't know what had happened in her life that kept her from fully relaxing even in sleep, but it was, perhaps, the same thing that kept their friendship at arm's length.

He sighed, shifting his weight to check the time on his watch and blanched. Bloody hell, he thought, biting his tongue to keep from saying the thought aloud, chancing a glance over at the still snoozing Henry. Not that it would last, Emma would surely wake him up once she realized how late they slept, but nonetheless, he wanted to warn her first.

After all, her stop was coming up in the next few minutes.

"Emma," he whispered, leaning close to her.

Emma mumbled, pressing herself more firmly against his shoulder, so close to him that she would only need to wiggle a little bit to be sitting in his lap. He shifted away some, figuring that would only freak her out and he had no wish to force her away. Her presence had been a comfort in these weeks as his schedule worsened, nearly the same feeling he felt around his brother, but also… not.

She brought him peace.

"Emma," he said firmly.

She jolted up, narrowly avoiding a head collision that would have made him see stars, the sleepiness gone from her entirely, as though she hadn't ever been napping at all. Her eyes flashed first to Henry, the sight of him easing her tense shoulders down, and then to him, looking confused. "Killian? Wha-? Oh, shit. I fell asleep didn't I? What time is it?"

The train announced her stop. It was a better answer than anything he could say.

Her face paled, color fading, then a scarlet blush bloomed on her cheeks. She averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, we missed your stop, didn't we?"

"Aye," he admitted.

"Umm, well," she said as the train jolted to a stop. Emma climbed to her feet, zipping the diaper bag and drawing it over her shoulder; there was a lull where nothing happened, she stared at him and he stared at her, then a hiss as the doors opened on the floor below them. She lifted Henry up carefully, resting him on her hip, his head resting on her shoulder as he snoozed away. "I can give you a lift to the pay phone again, it's the least I can do for… falling asleep on the job."

Killian stood as well, gesturing for her to lead the way and then following behind her. "I shall accept on the condition that you don't worry about sleeping. I, for one, feel like we've made a record of it. Not many people can say they fought the lull of sleep on a train as long as yourself."

"I could do better than that," she argued, looking over shoulder.

"Perhaps. I suppose you'll have to break the record then and really prove your point." Killian walked around her with his longer legs, arm held over the door to keep it open until she stepped onto the platform beside him.

"That depends, do we count from the time I last slept on a train or from the time I met you till now?"

"The latter," he replied.

"What?"

"The last one."

"Oh. Well, umm, I guess that would be two weeks?"

"We've known each other for nearly four weeks."

"But we've only been sitting together for almost three," she pointed out. "And we've both had differing days off since then, you've had two days off and I've had four days off so that's six days of not seeing each other at all."

"Ah, you're correct, I'd forgotten about those days off." They hadn't felt like days off, if he wasn't working in the city then he was doing something in the town or on the docks, and the only thing that made them different was the lack of Emma's voice. Other things as well, he mused, reminding himself to be less besotted with the woman. He said, "So you need to get fifteen days. Then I'll be impressed."

"That sounds a lot like a challenge, Jones," Emma said lightly, stopping before they entered the parking lot. "Here, hold Henry for me."

It wasn't the first time he had held Henry, but it was the first time he had done so while standing up. Killian took a long moment figuring out how to hold him comfortably and securely before he said anything else. Meanwhile, she dug around in the diaper, trying to find her car keys, no doubt buried under all the necessities for young children.

"It is."

Her movements paused, thoughtfulness passing over her face till she looked up at him, her lips curved into a pleased smile. He swallowed and she said, "You couldn't handle it." Then she returned to the diaper bag, the picture of patience as she waited for his response.

He said nothing, caught between her words and her look, till the only thing he could say became quite obvious. He swayed closer to her. "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't."

Her head lifted slowly, car keys hanging loosely from her fingers, threatening to fall straight back into the diaper bag again. He held his breath as she looked at him, her green eyes flickering over his face, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Her hand lifted, resting on his chest, her eyes fluttering as she leaned close, so close – his eyes closed, head tilted, heart racing—

Someone grasped his collar, yanking hard, a babbling voice filling his ears.

Emma jerked back, color once more flooding her face, and said very quickly, "I'll take him again, thank you. My car is this way, I'll give you a lift still, condition or not." She accepted Henry, who squealed at the sight of his mother. Their fingers brushed and lingered; she pulled away, turning on her heel and darting across the parking lot, her ponytail swinging as she went.

Killian lifted his fingers to his lips, disappointed. He sighed and followed her.

It was a quiet ride to the payphone. Emma was occupied with driving, her fingers dancing across the steering wheel in her agitation, her eyes flickering often to him and then back to the mirror as though she had only done so accidentally.

Killian himself couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound ridiculous or forced. He shouldn't have bloody done that, but he couldn't convince himself to feel guilty he could recall the look of focus on her face, the smile on her lips, so close he could have almost tasted them.

"Here we are," she said as she pulled up to the curb, not once looking at him.

"Thank you, lass."

"You're welcome," she said. When he was clear of the car, he heard the hum as her car shifted gears and he didn't look over his shoulder, not wanting to see her speed away.

He climbed out of the car, slipping his wallet out of his pocket for the phone, shaking his head as he counted out the change. His brother's phone number was muscle memory at this point, it hadn't changed since Liam first got it years ago, but it still took ages for the numbers to come to the forefront of his mind. He shifted, sighing, holding the phone just away from him.

It rang. And rang.

His head ached. His brother would be furious.

He felt like little more than a child. He palmed his forehead, tugging on the errant strands of hair none too gently. "Hello?" Liam said groggily, a jaw breaking yawn escaping him. "Killian? You're supposed to be home already, hope you didn't get held up overnight."

"Something like that," he said simply, hesitating. Worse than his brother's reprimand would be his disappoint or – even more terrible than both of those – his brother's guilt. That Killian needed two jobs to keep them moving. That he was somehow not doing enough. He swallowed back his explanations.

Liam said suddenly, "This isn't a situation where you need to say 'pulp' is it?"

Laughter bubbled up. Pulp was the word they used if either was in a situation that required escaping, a strange word they had decided upon after leaving England so many years prior. "No, brother, I'm not being held against my will or in a dire situation. I just need a ride from the station downtown."

Liam's voice didn't raise a pitch, but Killian could hear it in his voice all the same. When Liam was stern, it was all Killian could do not to flinch. "Did you get arrested?"

"Of course not," Killian scoffed. "The train station, the one you picked me up from last time."

"Oh. Right." His brother made a disgruntled noise. "I'll be there in a little while, try not to do anything ridiculous between now and then, please."

He hung up before Killian could reply.

Killian groaned, returning the phone to its holder.

"Everything all right?"

"Bloody hell!" He whirled around to face Emma, who was lounging against the door of her bug, hands tucked into the pocket of her sweater. She was trying very hard to seem casual, but her features were pinched and uncomfortable, as though waiting for a friend was too foreign to translate.

Given what he knew of her, it probably was.

"Sorry? Um, I thought I would wait with you, you know, in case anybody decided to rob you."

"Do you secretly know karate?"

"Perhaps. I did spend a year in prison, I could have learned a lot of things." Startled by her admission, Emma stopped speaking, peeking inside the car at Henry. Once more, he had fallen asleep, snuggled beneath a blue blanket to ward off the chill from the open window. Emma's averted gaze gave him time to fix his own look of surprise.

It didn't, however, give him time to hold his tongue and develop some tact. "You were in prison?" Killian asked.

She looked at him quickly then away. "Um, yeah, almost two years ago."

He did quick math in his head, coming to an unexpected conclusion. Henry snoozed in the car, unaware of the conversation occurring outside the car, and Killian's eyes darted to him briefly before back to her. The tension in her shifted in that split second, replaced with icy indifference and a mile-high wall, a crease in the corner of her eyes that wasn't from laughter or happiness.

"And Henry's father-?" He asked, more confused than ever by her origins. He knew she was an orphan, one recognized another even if she hadn't told him, and he knew there was no father. Not a name, or a date, or a picture, or a smile, or a comment. Nothing to suggest the father was anything more than a genetic donor.

"He's…" Emma looked at Henry again, as though afraid he would hear her, and then said sharply, "Why do you think I was even in prison? It certainly wasn't my decision." Her eyes were still wary, still cold, but she wasn't marching away yet.

"Well, I don't think anyone chooses to go to prison," he said kindly.

"Hm. True. But in this case, I didn't deserve it. At least, not for that." There was definitely a story there, but he didn't wish to push it. Not today, when some lines had already been nearly crossed, not when he wasn't entirely sure about how to feel about the revelation yet.

Did it change how he saw her?

He tilted his head, studying her, but couldn't feel or see anything different.

"Well, it happens to the best of us," he said.

Emma blinked.

He continued, on a slightly different topic. "I don't suppose your time in prison taught you how to sneak up on people?"

"Maybe," she said cautiously.

"That explains it. I hadn't even heard you get out of the car, actually, I was quite sure you had driven away already."

"Well, you were a little preoccupied with something else." Emma inclined her head to the phone. "Is everything alright? It sounded… tense."

Killian scratched behind his ear. "My brother is a touch grouchy when awoken, even by his alarm clock, and he's not entirely pleased about making the trip over here."

"How far of a drive is it?"

He did some more quick math – it was the most use he had gotten out of it since he left school. A slight exaggeration, given he used it when doing tours in the morning. "About an hour."

"Altogether or…?"

"Each way."

Her mouth opened, shock on her face. "You… were waiting out here an hour for your brother to pick you up last time? Why didn't you say anything? I would have taken you somewhere to stay warm!" As if summoned by her words, a brisk wind blew through them, sending her ponytail swaying and making him shiver in his thin sweater.

"We weren't exactly friends, love."

She frowned, the look ruined by the shiver that suddenly spread through her. Her teeth were chattering, even, and he realized with a start that his were too. How long had that been happening?

"You and Henry should get home, I'd be an awful sort of person to keep you both out here in the cold."

Emma shot him a critical look. "And leave you here in the cold with that ridiculous sweater? You're better off with the leather one, really."

"Next time," he promised.

"There won't be another time."

"You're accepting the challenge then?" He beamed, pleased at the smile on her face.

"Uh, obviously." She pushed off the bug, pulling out her keys. "Come on, we can at least have the heater on while we wait – and don't ask, I'm not going. I'd be an awful sort of person if I let you freeze to death," she said, trying to mimic his accent.

"I've been to Scotland in the winter," he protested, but when she walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat, her engine groaning into existence, he couldn't help following her.

It took her car a little while to warm up, but soon it was toasty and he could remove his fingers from his pockets, their previous conversation and actions lingering in the air around them, until he finally worked up the courage to ask her whether she had yet seen a newly released movie. Before long, they were debating on the beaches of the east coast versus that of the west, discussing the latest Harry Potter book, and then deciding on which sights he thought she would enjoy in Europe.

And, before he knew it, the hour was up, and they were standing in the cold again. The car was left on this time, because Liam would be showing up any minute and they would both be leaving, and Emma rocked on her heels, standing near the window where Henry slept still.

He noticed she didn't often wander far, not even to inspect a noise in a bush nearby like Killian had.

"Is that him?" She asked, squinting at the headlights of an upcoming car as she had for the past four cars. He lifted his eyes from his cast, lifting his usable hand to block out the lights, and straightened as he made out his brother's irritated countenance.

"Aye, that's him." Then, because he didn't want his brother to turn his opinions on Emma, he said very quickly, "Well, I thank you for keeping me warm while I waited, lass."

Confused, she stared at him and he inclined his head thankfully. Realizing what he wanted, she did exactly the opposite of what he wanted, instead stepping away from the car just enough to stand closer, as though sensing the unease in his expression.

He sighed, deciding not to waste energy on sending her away when she was quite content with doing whatever she wanted, in this the case opposite, and instead straightened more, preparing to face his doom.

Liam didn't disappoint. No sooner had his car come to a stop, the engine also left on, thank you, then he launched into a tirade about responsibility. Killian winced at each word, closing his eyes, feeling worse by the second, when, abruptly, as though a spout being turned off, his brother stopped speaking.

He opened his eyes, surprised to see that his brother was looking between him and Emma with dark suspicious.

"Who is this?" Liam asked stiffly. There were shadows beneath his eyes that made Killian feel guilty for waking him up, though he knew those weren't from this instance at all, but long days at work followed by equally long, unpaid overtime.

"This is…" He started, but was cut off.

"I'm Emma Swan. I've heard quite a bit about you," Emma said. He was somewhat surprised to find that the tone of her voice was quite unlike the one he used with him, even when they had first met. It was feigned lightness and a smile on her face that wasn't comforting.

"I haven't heard anything about you," Liam said bluntly, though recognition was flashing through his eyes. No, Killian hadn't told his brother about the lass with the golden hair and bewitching, elusive smiles, but he had acting strange and quiet. Enough that his brother could dismiss his falsehood of tiredness and form his own theory – and Liam wasn't pleased with it either.

If Emma's smile was disconcerting, his brother's return one was even worse.

He glanced between the two, very uncomfortable by their battle ready stances, knowing that both were locked in a stare down that seemed to have no end in sight.

Then a cry pierced the air, startling them all, and their gazes swiveled to the car, where Henry cried for the mother he couldn't see or feel. Emma blinked, all other emotion gone except for the razor sharp focus on her son, and turned her back to both of them, opening the car door to see what he needed.

Killian looked back at Liam. His brother was confused, his face red from either the cold or suppressed annoyance, and then inclined his head for the car. "Come along, brother, we'll be able to get some sleep before the night is over."

"Aye. Just a moment," he said, holding up a finger. Killian approached Emma, standing off to the side, and cleared his throat quietly till she looked up at him. "I'll be heading off, lass. Thank you again and apologies for… him."

She caught his arm before he could get too far. Gone were the walls and the icy indifference, replaced instead with determination and fear. Her cheeks were pink, not from the cold, he realized after a moment of her hand lingering while she figured out how to form words.

"Umm, I was wondering, if, maybe, you'd like to go to the park with me. With me and Henry. Tomorrow? And then I could drive you home or you could catch the train or… something," she said finally, lifting her eyes to his face, the flush on her face growing. Most telling of all was the smile on her face, hesitant to bloom, waiting for his response.

"Aye. I'd like that," he replied, tilting his head.

"Okay." The smile that spread across her face made a jolt run through him.

This time, he was the one climbing into a car and leaving, seeing her form grow smaller and smaller as they pulled away, a pleased, dazed grin on his lips.


Sorry for the wait, things have been hectic with moving!