I could apologize for the hiatus that I didn't plan, oooor I could just post this chapter and hope it's not the last you see of me in the OUaT fandom, though I no longer really watch the show.
But this is AU so maybe I can fuck with it. WE WILL SEE.
A scream. Wordless? No, his name. She's screaming for him. He reaches for her; he finds air. He tries to call her name. No sound passes his lips. There is only the wail of metal grinding against metal, her cries rising above the chaos. His hand pats the empty seat beside him. He turns his head and faces a void of darkness. Why can't he see? Where is she? His name from her lips again. He struggles against his seatbelt. It tightens, choking him. . . .
Killian started awake, Milah's name a strangled cry through parched lips. His eyes darted from side to side, aching against the sudden assault of sunlight. His heart hammered in his chest. The sheets clung to him like a second skin and he cast them aside, the sudden chill from the air-conditioning waking him up completely. He forced himself to sit up, checking the clock on the bedside table as he swung his legs to the floor: 7:52am.
Covering his face with his hands, he rested his elbows on his knees. Fewer and farther between though they may be, those nightmares still tormented him. Maybe he should call the doctor Victor had recommended. Hooper? No, Hopper. Archibald Hopper. That's what the card he had pulled from the nightstand told him, anyway. Strange, he thought, but he had heard the same about his own name when he moved to the States. His saving grace was that one actor who happened to share his name, but that led to a frustrating number of emails greeting Cillian Jones.
Running a hand through his dark hair, he studied the number on the card until he was sure he had it memorized. He never thought it would be necessary to talk to anyone else about what had happened to Milah; he managed his life well enough on his own. He held a steady job, he didn't distance himself from his friends. The only thing he could think of that might be problematic in the eyes of a shrink was that it had taken him nearly two years to notice another woman. Granted, she seemed to be the most emotionally unavailable woman he could have found himself drawn to, but was he any different? He certainly hadn't made the greatest impression at the show on Friday. At least Emma agreed to exchange numbers.
Not that either of them had made first contact.
Checking the clock again, he saw that it was only a little past eight. He wasn't sure what time would be appropriate to call this Dr. Hopper, but Killian certainly wouldn't appreciate a call this early in the morning no matter the circumstances. Especially on a Monday.
He was again aware of the sweat that was drying on his bare chest and arms. Shivering a bit, he stood and opened the blinds. The sun bathed the moderately sized room in light, bringing it to life. The weather was clear, beautiful, and the temperature was comfortable for the first time in over a week according to the thermometer outside the window. A heat wave had been plaguing Boston off and on for the better part of a month, but the thunderstorm a week earlier seemed to have finally cooled it off. He decided to take advantage of the weather and walk to the diner around the corner to grab breakfast.
After a quick shower, he threw on a T-shirt and cargo shorts, tucking his wallet into one of the back pockets. He ruffled his damp hair, not one for leaving it too neat. After one last glance at the clock-nearly quarter to nine now-he left the apartment and hurried down the steps, slipping his sunglasses on as he went.
Once he was outside, he stood still for a moment, taking in the sunlight that warmed his skin. One breath, then another, and he started walking. It wasn't a far walk by any means, so he took his time, keeping his pace languid and relaxed. The sidewalks were cleared of the morning rush, most people already in Boston proper, working their steady office jobs. He wouldn't have to go into the restaurant until five that evening, so he had plenty of time to waste beforehand.
Reaching into his pocket, he realized he had left his phone back at the apartment. Muttering a curse, he paused, wondering if it was worth turning back to get it. Letting his head fall back, he stared up at the sky, eventually shaking his head: who would even call him this early? Victor would be at the hospital if he was working, which meant he would be far too busy. Phillip had a summer job, as far as he knew, and Jefferson they were lucky to hear from before two in the afternoon. Killian carried on, his pace quickening just the slightest bit.
He entered the diner, removing his sunglasses and slipping them into his pocket. Granny, the elderly woman who owned the diner, greeted him. Her grey hair was pinned back and loose waves framed her face; her light green eyes were more tired than he ever remembered them being. She led him to a table of light grey formica speckled with rose pink; the dark blue vinyl that covered the booth groaned beneath his weight as he sat. Granny slipped a menu in front of him and gave him a gracious smile before she went back to her perch by the register.
At first, he didn't look up when a waitress approached the table. However, when she asked, "Can I get you something to drink?" in a bored, familiar voice, his eyes shot up from the menu.
"Ruby?" He gave her a half smile. "Fancy meeting you here."
Apparently she hadn't noticed whose order she was taking, because she was taken aback. "Killian? I didn't know you came here."
"I haven't for a while."
"Do you live around here?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Yeah, about three blocks that way." He gestured in the direction of his apartment.
She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "How come I've never seen you here before?"
Killian shrugged, his grin a little more lopsided. "I used to come every week with my mate, Graham."
"Is he the one who moved to Springfield?"
He cocked an eyebrow, nodding. "Just over a year ago."
"That explains why I never saw you. I didn't start working here until the fall, after I graduated last year. It's my grandmother's diner," she said
"You're Granny's granddaughter? She talked about you when this was my weekly haunt," he said, and she gave an embarrassed nod. He met her eyes-much like her grandmother's in color and shape-before asking, "Emma told you about Graham?"
"Sort of. She said that you had a different guitarist in the band for a while. I just assumed." She paused, cocking her hip to the side, mirroring the night they had met. She glanced over her shoulder to where Granny was sitting and stiffened-her grandmother was glaring at her. She smiled apologetically. "Back to work, I guess. Do you want coffee?"
"Yes, and two eggs over easy with a side of bacon and grits."
She scribbled his order down and brought it over to the kitchen. She brought the coffee within moments, but the food took a short while longer. He ate slowly, and his mind wandered. His memory offered up Friday night, the night of the gig, the night he had gotten short with Emma because she had been entirely human by showing curiosity in what they had been discussing. It shouldn't have been so bloody difficult to talk about Graham leaving.
But it hadn't been about Graham at the end. The conversation had come to the root of the grudge he held against Regina Mills. Sure, she had made Graham's life a living hell, but that hadn't started until after she learned he was friends with Killian. That particular indiscretion was only one item on the long list of grievances Killian could have brought against her.
Ruby came over with a carafe to refill his half empty mug of tepid coffee. She frowned at him, concerned. Was the direction of his thoughts really so apparent to those around him? He looked away when he couldn't force even a half smile, focusing on his now lukewarm food. A few more mouthfuls, and he knew it was hopeless-there was no recovering what poor excuse for an appetite he may have had. After sipping coffee for a few more minutes, he took out his wallet, threw a twenty on the table, and left the diner.
XxXxX
When he returned to his apartment building, he could hear even from the bottom floor that his phone was going off. The muffled riffs of Purple Haze grew louder as he climbed the stairs two at a time, and he had just come through the door when the song was cut short. He ambled over to the desk where he left his phone to charge at night just as his voicemail tone chirped. He picked up the phone and dialed in to his voicemail.
"Wake up, you lousy bastard," Graham said, and Killian barked out a laugh. "I'm in Boston visiting my parents. We should get the band together, for old time's sake. Call me back."
Killian stared down at the phone before opting to save the message, then disconnected with his voice mail and tossed the phone on the bed. He wandered into the kitchen-slash-foyer and retrieved a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and sipping it slowly. After replacing the cap, he went back to the bed and picked up the phone. He dialed Graham as he leaned back against the headboard.
"It's about time you called back." Graham's voice rang cheerfully through the speaker.
Killian chuckled. "It hasn't even been ten minutes since you called, mate."
"And I've been standing outside the train station all that time, waiting anxiously," he replied with a longing lilt to his voice, then laughed. He grew quiet when Killian didn't respond. "You all right, Killian?"
"I'm fine, just had a long night," he lied. "How has Springfield been treating you?"
There was a pause on the other end in which Killian could hear the sounds of traffic buzzing by. "Honestly?" Graham started, sighing heavily. "I'm not exactly on a leisure trip. A case my partner and I were investigating hit a little too close to home, and I took myself off of it."
"Why?"
"It involved this woman I'd been seeing for a couple of months. It was going really well, so I suppose this was inevitable." He sighed. "It's not really that big of a deal, I just couldn't take the risk of my personal relationship with her affecting the way I handled the case. It wouldn't have been fair to her."
"Are you still seeing each other?" Killian asked, anticipating Graham's response.
"Ah... no. She may or may not have called it quits when I refused to help her out." He was quiet for a long moment. "I think she'll understand, in time, but it would never have worked out after this."
"What did she do?"
"You know I can't say anything about an open investigation, Killian."
"Right, sorry." Killian sat forward, his brows furrowed. "How long are you in Boston?"
"About a week. I'm staying at Victor's place as long as he can stand my presence. Unfortunately, he's the only one of you guys to have a literal day job, so I'm stuck wandering around Boston until he gets off work," he said dramatically. Killian could imagine him leaning up against a streetlight, staring at sky as he lamented.
"How about we go to Granny's for lunch and you can tell me as much as legally possible about your latest disastrous attempt at a relationship."
"Sounds like a plan. I'll be at your apartment in thirty minutes."