Chapter 4

Emma couldn't believe he'd quoted Shakespeare, couldn't believe he'd be so cruel, couldn't believe he was still able to hurt her so deep by only saying some stupid words. But she felt tears pricking the back of her eyes as she curled her hands around the wooden railing. The wind was picking up, and she felt the first drops of rain on her fingers, but she couldn't move.

The urge to ride out into the night without looking back was overwhelming, but it'd be close to suicide to do it, and Emma knew it. There was no way she could avoid Killian, she had to go back in and face him. But she wasn't ready yet.

Taking in some deep breaths, she forced her galloping heart to calm down. She could do this. She'd just go back in and be totally cool, only saying the bare necessities, go to bed and the next morning she'd just leave without breakfast, and be done with it.

"Brilliant idea, Swan,"" she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment.

Now she just needed to find the strength to pull it off.

-/-

Killian stared at the closed door, deciding that he would give Emma some time to calm down, and himself time to think about how to approach her. He should probably start cooking dinner, they needed to eat, so he walked into the pantry to find something to warm up quickly.

A sad smile flitted over his face as his eyes landed on the utensils for making s'mores, remembering all the times he'd made s'mores for Emma, and how much he'd enjoyed watching her while she'd devoured the treats.

A lump formed in his throat, and Killian gulped hard to swallow it down, taking two cans of beans and two bottles of soda down from the shelf. For a brief moment he contemplated also taking one of the bottles of wine, but decided against it. Might not be the right time for drinking wine when Emma was so angry with him that she was about to rip his head off.

Walking back into the main room, he reached for a pot and emptied both cans into it, put it on the stove, started the flame. Reaching for a wooden spoon, he stirred while trying to come up with a good opening for the long overdue conversation. His mind was still reeling when Emma stepped back into the room, and one look at her told him that the conversation he wanted to have would probably not happen. At least not tonight.

"Good," Emma said in a cold voice as she saw him standing at the stove. "You've made dinner. Let's eat."

Killian didn't really know how to handle this version of Emma; she was so closed off, he'd never seen her this way. But of course it was his fault; he made her this way.

They ate in absolute silence, Emma not even looking up at him once, her shoulders stiff. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but closed it every time. Maybe it was extremely cowardly of him to not start a conversation now, but he thought letting her sleep over it might not be such a bad idea.

She pushed back from the table as soon as she'd eaten, grabbing one bottle of soda and waving her hand over the dishes. "You can clean up. I'll take the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch out here."

Emma was gone before he could even blink, and with a sigh he stood up and gathered the dirty dishes.

-/-

Emma couldn't sleep, staring up at the ceiling with wide opened eyes while listening for any noise from the other room. Checking the clock for the umpteenth time, she let out a deep sigh and threw the blanket off her body.

"Damn," she whispered, looking at the closed door, trying to talk herself out of it.

But her legs were working on their own accord apparently, walking her towards the door, and her hand reached for the knob, opening the door slowly, so that she wouldn't wake Killian in case he was already asleep.

He wasn't.

The moment Emma stepped into the room his eyes found hers, and he sat up immediately, letting the blanket fall to the ground. He shifted slightly forward, propped his elbows on his knees and looked up at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to speak.

"Why?" she asked, the question out of her mouth before she could think about it.

"Why what?"

"Why did you break up with me?" Emma was surprised that her voice didn't waver, but her hands started to tremble and she folded her arms over her chest, determined to get an answer to the question that had plagued her for years. "I need to know."

"Emma, I ..."

"Why?"

He hesitated, his eyes burning into hers, and then his shoulders slumped and she knew he'd answer her. She didn't know if she felt relieved or scared, probably both.

"My father ..." he started, rubbing one hand over his face before he met her eyes again. "He told me he'd ruin all of you if I kept seeing you. You know he could have. He'd have left your parents with nothing, and … I couldn't let that happen. I knew if I told you, you would have chosen us, no matter the consequences. But you'd have hated me eventually, Emma." She gritted her teeth, wanted to shout at him, to yell out all her anger, all her pain. He probably saw the emotion flicker over her face, because his mouth tilted up into a sad smirk. "Like you hate me now. But this way you've been able to have the education you always wanted. I didn't want to take that away from you."

The anger burned hot through her and she let her arms drop, stepping towards him as she snapped, "So you decided our love doesn't mean anything, and you just threw it away?"

"Emma, I ..."

He'd jumped up from the couch and came towards her, but she held out her hand to stop him from coming any closer, her voice shaking with fury as she said, "Stay away from me."

"Emma, please."

His hand closed around her forearm despite her wanting him to stay as far away from her as possible, and she yelled, "Let go of me!"

"Emma, I still love you," he told her in a desperate tone. "I never stopped loving you."

Before she could think about it Emma raised her hand and slapped him, his face jerking to the side with the force.

"You're ..."

Emma couldn't even get any words out anymore, she was seething with anger. Her heart was racing in her chest and she balled her hands into fists to keep herself from slapping him again. She wanted to hit him, wanted to find an outlet for all this rage, all the pain, inside of her.

And then he looked at her with this too blue eyes, letting her see right down to his soul, and everything came crashing back. The way he'd kissed her, the way she'd felt completely safe when she'd been enclosed by his arms, the way hearing his heart beat under her ear had always soothed her, and the anger suddenly turned into a bone deep yearning for his touch, a yearning that pushed the air out of her lungs, made breathing an almost impossible task.

"Bastard," Emma whispered, her skin tingling where his hand was still closed around her arm, and tears started to well up in her eyes, because she still loved him, and it was all his fault.

"I know," Killian said softly, his thumb brushing over her arm, the movement shooting tingles through her body.

"You goddamn bastard."

And then she reached up, wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him down to crush her lips on his.