I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters. I just so happen to be a fan that loves to write.
Note: I have revised chapter 3 slightly, for those whom have been following along, for a few discrepancies and cleaned it up a bit. Since I do not have a beta for my stories (applications welcome) I tend to post almost immediately after writing, with little review. I'm going to take a bit more review time so as to give you, my readers, a better story.
Apologies on the wait…now on with the show…
-Y&M-
Emma lay flat on her back in her bed, staring at the ceiling in her bedroom. She grimaced, as had been in this same position, eyes wide open and awake, for at least the last three hours. She sighed and rolled over slightly, to glance at the clock on her iPad.
3:15am
"Damnit," she swore lightly under her breath in resignation and sat up in bed.
What the hell is wrong with me, Emma thought to herself, as the events of the day came crashing down on her. She had a perfect stranger sleeping on her couch, for crying out loud, with Henry sleeping merely a few feet from him. What kind of mother was she? What about this man led her to believe she could trust him like that?
But you do, her conscience whispered to her. You do trust him…more than you trust yourself.
Emma bit those thoughts down as she glanced over to the end table where she'd laid the scarf he'd draped over her earlier. The feelings Killian evoked in her were indeed those of trust. Trust, safety, familiarity—these were all what she felt when she'd thought of him. Emma felt as though her own emotions were betraying her. How could she just forget someone like that, someone whom had meaning to her? She knew Killian. She knew he was a friend. She knew he knew her.
I know you better than you know yourself, love, she heard his words echo in her mind.
Something in her knew at that moment, when he'd hijacked the table she'd been dining with Walsh at, that his words were true. All of them. She knew deep down when he'd made that comment her reaction wasn't as if he was some crazy person chiding her on the walls she'd so carefully constructed around her over the years, it was a reaction one would have when your best friend called you out on your faults for your own good. Why, then, couldn't she remember anything about him?
And then there was Walsh. What had gotten into him earlier? She knew she'd hurt him the night before when she'd turned down his marriage proposal, but Walsh had always been a kind, gentle person with her and Henry. He had never so much as raised his voice with her when they had gotten into arguments over the last 8 months they'd been together and then yesterday…
Yesterday it was as if she didn't know him at all. The venom in his eyes as he lashed out verbally to her had shocked her to the core. Even before, when she'd first ran into him and he tried to pull her down the hallway, digging his fingers painfully into her arm, his actions revealed a darker side that not once had she or Henry ever been witness to. Emma absently glanced at her arm that he'd grabbed, only now noticing that he'd actually bruised her with his grip. Jesus, Walsh, what the hell?
Trust your gut, Henry had said to her, as he always did when it came to making big decisions in her life. How her little boy had grown up without her realizing it over this last year, she'd never know, but he'd always been right. Her gut reactions, as much as she hated them, had always turned out to be correct. When Walsh had asked her to marry him, her gut reaction was fear and a little bit of disbelief. She thought, as she had the entire time she'd been dating him, that it was too good to be true. That things were too good—too perfect—to be real with him.
Maybe, just maybe, after being witness to Walsh's actions last night, her gut had been right all along.
Emma's face crumpled as a soft cry escaped her lips. She'd really thought Walsh might have been the relationship that would have turned into her happily ever after. She wanted that more than anything. And now…now she felt like she'd failed somehow. Emma felt like she should have picked up on the signs that Walsh wasn't this perfect person that she'd thought him to be. People weren't perfect, she reminded herself. They were full of flaws and secrets and disappointment. All she had wanted was for her and Henry to complete their little family, to find that missing piece that she'd felt weighed heavily upon her conscience all Henry's life. He needed a father figure and she needed someone to love her.
Perhaps that just wasn't in the cards for Emma Swan.
Emma felt the hole in her life where someone else was supposed to fit open up into nothingness again and it was just too much as another sob escaped her lips. She wiped frantically at the warm tears on her cheeks, embarrassed that she could be so weak as to let this all get to her like that. She needed to be strong. Needed to be strong for herself and for Henry. They didn't need anyone else. What was wrong with her and Henry against the world? They didn't need anyone else.
Emma realized she was staring at the scarf on the end table this entire time as the thoughts of yesterday consumed her. She let out a soft laugh, further wiping the remainder of the tears from her face as she picked up the scarf off the end table.
Once upon a time, I climbed a beanstalk with a beautiful princess…
A small grin crossed her face. Stupid pirate, believing in all this fairy-tale bullshit. She lifted the scarf to her nose, inhaling the scent of it—of him, secretly wishing it would allow her to remember just who Killian was to her. It smelled of spice and leather and a bit of something else, perhaps alcohol? No rum. The scarf smelled of spices, leather, and rum. Of course it smelled of rum, stupid fairy-tale pirate, Emma thought as she rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness. Speaking of which…
"I need a drink if I think I'm ever going to get back to sleep tonight," Emma mumbled out loud to herself as she opened the door to go sneak into the kitchen to get a nightcap.
She froze, her eyes wide and her chin dropping at the site before her. There walking out of her kitchen was Killian Jones, whom also froze, caught off-guard, by her coming out of the bedroom. He was wearing nothing but the sweatpants, hung low on his hips, and held something in his hand. He appeared to have been heading straight towards her room. Upon further investigation, Emma spied her decanter of rum open on the kitchen countertop and what Killian had in his hand, were two tumblers filled partially with rum. She blinked in disbelief, not once, but twice, and had to forcibly remind herself to close her mouth again.
"But how—" she began as she found her eyes traveling down his chest and torso before realizing she was doing so.
Emma licked her lips. Killian grinned, watching her.
"Like what you see, love?" he asked lowly as a cocky grin crept over his features.
"I—what? Or no, I don't, you—" she began, stumbling over her own words before shaking her head side to side in order to chase away her thoughts. "What are you doing?"
Killian pulled his head back, surprised, and shrugged, his tone taking on a softer lilt, "I'd…I'd heard you rustling about in your room and thought that you might have had trouble sleeping so I made us each a drink."
He held up the glasses with his one hand as they clinked together. Killian grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her, playfully. His grin died though as he took in her face and eyes. Concern washed over his features as he took a few steps toward her.
"Love…have you been crying?" he asked quietly with such sincerity that Emma gasped softly.
"I…," she began, not really knowing what to say at his perceptiveness. "No, I'm—I'm okay. I just had a hard time sleeping that's all. Ironically, I came out to get a drink to see if it would let my brain shut off long enough so I could at least try to get some shut-eye."
She could tell the way he was watching her that he knew she'd lied. He stayed quiet for a few moments longer before nodding his head sadly and offering her one of the tumblers of rum from his hand. Emma followed him over to the kitchen where they sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Killian sipped at his rum, watching Emma the entirety of the time, as if waiting for her to speak first. Emma merely looked into the depths of the glass of rum wishing it could provide her answers to the mess of what her life was at the moment. She felt tears sting her eyes again as her emotions tried to get the best of her and she snapped them shut and gulped down the entire contents of her glass and then slammed it lightly on the table top, being careful of the noise so as to not wake Henry.
"I just," she began. "I wish…"
Emma shook her head and realized Killian had gotten up and brought the decanter over to the table before refilling her glass without a word. He left the decanter on the table and slid down to crouch in front of her. She felt him move her hair that had fallen forward, shrouding her face, back over her shoulder gently.
"Swan," he began as he took her chin and tilted it so she would look at him. "Look at me, Swan."
Emma just shook her head unable to look up and meet his eyes for fear her emotions would get the best of her again and whether she knew Killian or not, she didn't like to cry in front of anyone. She didn't need his sympathy for her being a hot mess at the moment. She heard him release a sigh and felt his hand on her knee.
"I'm sorry, Emma," he said softly.
That got her attention and snapped her out of being upset, "Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, Killian, I-"
"Aye, but I do, lass," he started as he stood up and leaned his hand on the back of her couch, his back to her. "I'm the one whom is the cause of your misery at present. I came here and disrupted your happy life you've been living, did I not?"
"Maybe my perfect life needed a little disruption," Emma said before she even thought about it, shocked at the truth she felt in her own words.
It had been perfect. Too perfect. To unbelievable.
She looked to Killian to find him staring at her with a look of surprise at her words before nodding his head in understanding, "You've known for a while that something was off, didn't you, love?"
Emma stood to go rinse her glass out in the sink, avoiding his gaze, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this," he said as he waved his hand around, gesturing to the apartment as a whole, "your life, you memories, Walsh, everything—you've suspected something was off for some time now, haven't you?"
She was about to deny it to him when something inside her made her stop. Yes, she had felt like everything was too good to be true lately. Emma had just chocked it up to her inability to believe that she could ever find complete happiness. Sure she had Henry whom she loved dearly, but there was always something missing. Even when it came to memories of Henry, sometimes things that happened in her past with him seemed too distant, too clouded in her memory to be something completely true. Yet here, standing in her kitchen in her dark grey sweatpants was a man that she had no memory of ever knowing, but felt as thought she'd known him her whole life.
Emma placed the glass next to the sink and crossed the room to him. Killian stood up a bit straighter and looked around as if he wasn't sure of her motives, as if he might need some place to duck and hide depending on what she did next. She stopped right in front of him, looking deep into his eyes before searching his face for something, anything to bring her memory of this man before her back. Killian held his breath. Having her this close to him took everything in his power to not reach out and wrap his arms around her. He knew she'd been upset tonight, seen the mark of tears that had been upon her face. Killian Jones knew, even if she'd denied it to him, part of her being upset was his presence in her life now. He disrupted her "good" life, as she had put it to him earlier in Central Park. Guilt seethed through his entire being, but he knew that Emma, his Swan, would not have wanted this false life, no matter how happy in blissful denial it had made her.
His heart clenched in his chest. He loved her. He'd known for some time that he had and probably had loved her from the very beginning, but had denied his emotions for a while, due to his past. Now, as she stood before him, looking into his very soul trying to remember him, he found he loved her even more. Even with a curse having stripped her memories before, he now knew, deep down, that she knew him, remembered him, even if it was only a ghost of a memory, buried deep within her. Killian flinched as she moved her hand to cup the side of his face, but he kept his arms at his side for fear of breaking this moment with her.
"Who are you?" she pleaded into the air, not directly at him, but spoken more to her own self, daring her mind to remember.
"Someone who loves you," he breathed as the emotions nearly choked him as he couldn't take it anymore and closed the distance between them and drew her into a kiss.
