Four long, draining hours later nearly everyone is gone and I'm herding the last few stragglers out the door. I'm knackered, I'm sure Emma is exhausted… wherever she is. There's a stack of casserole dishes on the kitchen island and there's no way that all of them will fit in the refrigerator. The dishes are outnumbered only by the flower vases around the house. I'm sure the fine denizens of Storybrooke will be dropping in unannounced for the next month to check in on Emma. At least until the next crisis comes along, then they'll slowly start to forget.
I always thought she'd make it out of the sticks and end up somewhere big like New York City or Boston. And Liam, he'd seen the whole world while he was in the Navy, places I'd only ever dreamt of, and still he came back and took a job teaching History at the local high school. I never understood why. Once the shine of Storybrooke wore off it was suffocating. I needed to get out and chase the horizon. I suspect Liam knew that early on and never pushed me one way or another.
I appreciate a tidy home as much as the next man, but I don't have the energy or desire to even begin to clean up tonight. All I want to do is take a hot shower, have a bloody drink, and sleep but I can't put Emma out of my mind. We're clearly not on the best of terms, but I still don't like the thought of her huddled up in a corner somewhere crying her eyes out alone. I'd like to get her to eat a little and make sure she gets to bed at a reasonable hour, though I anticipate that she'll fight me tooth and nail on both counts. If I thought I actually had a chance of getting away with it I'd make her dinner and draw her a hot bath.
Just as I nearly commit to battle to get Emma to eat my phone buzzes in my pocket. The ridiculously cheesy smile lighting up the screen makes me smile in return.
"Hello, love," I answer, letting out the breath I didn't even know I was holding, Belle has impeccable timing.
"Hi, hi, I hope it's not too late. You weren't asleep already were you," her voice is bright, but careful, the concern bleeds through clear enough. This is her idea of a welfare check.
"No, I wasn't asleep."
"How are you going so far?"
"Pretty much as can be expected, I suppose," I say and the silence stretches for longer than it should. I know what she wants to ask but she's hoping I'll answer before she has to. "The house is different."
"Good different?"
"Aye, it's alright. It's not as drafty. Very… Williams Sonoma."
"Don't you sound judgy?" she chuckles and something that sounds like the microwave slams in the background. I try not to roll my eyes, I knew the minute I was gone she'd be back to having popcorn and Diet Coke for dinner. "Did you get a chance to see the Charmings?"
"Not today, everyone was indisposed when I arrived."
"Everyone?" and there it is.
"She got her shot in, literally."
"What did you say?"
"Why do you automatically assume it was I who was in the wrong?"
"Because, I know you better than anyone and I know you have a tendency to get under peoples' skin whether intentionally or not."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence. For your information, I simply said 'hello.'"
"Are you ok?"
"Aye, it's fine." I lie. I'm not fine, none of this is fine. I lie even though I know Belle will see through it.
"Killian…" she sighs and it's the same tone she used the other night when she called me out for thinking about Emma. If she ever had children this is going to be the I'm not mad, I'm disappointed tone.
"I'm fine, love, just… long day, that's all." I suddenly miss Belle. In this empty house where I can hear the echo of my thoughts lap against the whitewashed wainscoting I can almost feel the ghost of my brother. I'm certainly no stranger to ghosts in the quiet hours of the night, but it's been many a year since I've had to face them alone. I regret not taking Belle up on her offer to accompany me.
"You sound knackered. You're taking care of yourself?"
"I just left your watchful guardianship this morning, Belle. There's not much trouble I could have gotten into yet."
"You know I worry about you. Someone has to."
"Says the woman having popcorn for dinner."
"How did you… this isn't about me," she tries to sound annoyed, but it's half-hearted. I put her on speaker phone so I can pull up the local delivery app and order her a proper meal.
"Mhmm, as I said I'm just fine. Thai or Chinese?"
"Well, we had Chinese last night."
"Thai is it," I chuckle and put in her usual order. With any luck they'll send the delivery bloke she's been sweet on, which will be enough to distract her from obsessing over Emma and me.
"You're a good man, Killian Jones. Remember that, ok?"
"Whatever you say."
"I'm serious, you're a good man."
"You would say that, you get to share my bed and I feed you."
"'Get' to share your bed? Yeah no, more like I grace your bed."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, book worm."
"Oh," she squeals, "do you think they'll send that delicious delivery guy? I sure hope so."
"Remember the communal furniture rule!"
"Yeah, yeah, I remember," she laughs and goes silent for another long stretch. "You'll call me if you need anything?"
"Aye, love, I'll be back in a few days. Goodnight."
"'Night, Killian." I feel uncomfortably alone when the phone screen fades to black.
Emma is still out on the patio sitting in the swing and gently rocking back and forth, staring blankly out across the lawn towards the water. Every once in a while the sole of her ankle-high boot scrapes against the worn wood, it's an eerie echo through the otherwise silent house. At least she's wrapped in a thick, woolen blanket but I can still see her breath in the cold night air. The porch light reflects off of her wet cheeks and her eyes are even more swollen than they were before. I wish I could fix her. I want to climb inside her and tear out all of the parts that are dark and painful and destroy them forever. If only it were that easy.
"There's no finer view than the full moon on the sea," I test the waters with the safest thing I can think of as I close the door quietly behind me and lean against the frame. She just scoffs quietly and shakes her head without even looking at me. She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Cold tonight. Can I get you anything?"
"No," she says firmly. Her lips are trembling and her jaw clenches, I know she's trying not to let her teeth chatter in the wind. She's always been stubborn and hated showing any kind of weakness, at least that hasn't changed.
"Why don't you come inside, love? You're freezing."
"Why are you still here, Killian?" she bites out and stands up. She wobbles a little on her feet but steadies herself before throwing the blanket back on the swing. She's exhausted, it's obvious, and her cheeks aren't as full as they usually are. I wonder when she last ate a full meal or got a restful night's sleep, it might be worth the fight to make her dinner after all. She's running on empty but there's iron in her veins and steel in her spine. Her eyes are wide but hard and flinty. I'd recognize that look anywhere, her armour. That she's working so hard to hide from me opens a deep wound that won't soon heal.
"I think that should be obvious." I answer blandly and shuffle out of her way as she charges through the door, back into the warmth of the living room. Hypothermia averted.
"I didn't think you'd actually show up."
"What do you wish for me to say, Swan?"
"I don't care about anything you have to say," she says, clearly struggling to control her emotions. She throws a tasseled throw pillow back on the sofa and scrubs the tears off her cheeks. "Do you have any idea how badly Liam just wanted to spend time with you? He bought a plane ticket for you every Christmas since you left on the off chance that you could put down whatever the hell you've been occupied with long enough to be a part of this family again."
"This family seems to have gotten by just fine in my absence," I shrug coolly but it kills me to know that. It hurts to think of Liam stretching his teacher salary to buy a holiday-rate cross-country flight. That isn't cheap. I can't even justify it by telling myself that he was doing it out of some selfish ulterior motive because that just isn't Liam, or wasn't Liam I guess.
"You could rarely be bothered to take his phone calls," she's trying to yell at me but her voice is cracking and I can already see the tears trailing down her cheeks again. "God, Killian! Would it have been so damn hard to just return more than one call a month? The worst part about it is that he was never disappointed in you or pissed, and he had every right to be. He defended you every single time. You were on an eternal second chance in his mind. You could do no wrong, and he gave you far more credit than you deserve for abandoning us… him. For abandoning your brother."
"I'm bloody sorry for putting you both out so badly," it's not an apology, it's sarcasm and I know it. This is Killian Jones 101: sarcasm is my armour. When I'm happy it's good natured, when I'm upset it's a weapon. And we're definitely in the territory of the latter now except I'm not upset, I'm shattered.
"You didn't put me out, I've learned to hate you since you left," she growls and the iciness in her beautiful green eyes is something I've never seen before.
"Right, well nice catching up with you, Mrs. Jones."
She charges at me with the kind of fury that, under other circumstances, would be a major turn on. Her fist is already balled up and I know that I'm going to be nursing a matching handprint on the other side of my face. I catch her wrist and squeeze just enough to let her know I'm not in the mood for theatrics. She gasps in shock and tries to pull away.
"Don't. Ever. Do that again. Love," I growl and tug her a few inches closer. I can hear her breath hitch in her throat and the pulse in her wrist thrums against my fingers a little faster.
"Let me go," she whispers shakily and tries to pull away again, wobbling on her feet.
"Are you going to keep your bloody hands to yourself?" her skin is warm and soft, my fingers wrap around her entire wrist and she seems so fragile and unlike the Emma I knew.
"You deserved it."
"We both know that I didn't," I spit and shove her wrist away from me, more roughly than I mean to, and she stumbles slightly. She's managed to tangle me up into knots again without even meaning to, she still has no idea what she does to me. "This was a damned mistake."
"Where the hell are you going now?" she calls after me hoarsely as I yank my jacket on.
"Not that it's your concern, but I'm going to find a room."
"You might as well stay here tonight, Mother Superior will be here early tomorrow to go over passages before the funeral."
"I'll get a room," I bite my tongue against another tirade because she's being irrational and I know she doesn't mean to be.
"Fine! Do whatever the hell you want, Killian, you always do!"
"You're angry that I'm here, you're angry that I'm leaving, what the bloody hell do you want?" I snap, trying desperately to remember all of Liam's lessons on compassion and patience.
"Like you even care," she yells back, color flushing through her cheeks.
"I'm only going to ask you one time, Swan, what do you want?"
"Stop saying my name like that!"
"Sod this," I growl and swipe a piece of scrap paper from the counter and scribble onto it. "This is my mobile if you actually need something other than to yell at me. What time do I need to be here tomorrow?"
"Walking out again, leaving is what you're good at, huh?"
"What time tomorrow?" I ask and hope that my exasperation is obvious. She's grieving and exhausted, making her irrational, this isn't the Swam I know… at least I keep telling myself that. She just looks at me and back to the wall of pictures behind me. "Swan, what time?"
"For what?"
"Mother Superior, what time do I need to be here in the morning?" I ask again and try not to grind my teeth too much. She's staring at the pictures again and doesn't even seem to hear me. "Never mind, I'll be back at 8."
"Elsa and Regina have been staying over all week," she says quietly, her voice fumbling and cracking over the words like she can barely hold herself together. When I turn around she has her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes are shining with unshed tears.
"Swan—"
"Please don't leave, Killian. I know you don't want to stay here and I know I don't have the right to ask, but please just… don't leave?"
"I'll ring Elsa, I'm sure she'd be happy to come over."
"Killian, please, I won't get in your way, I promise," she asks, grabbing at the leather of my sleeve, panicked and wide-eyed. It's a whole side of her that I hate seeing. My Emma wasn't scared of anything, she was strong and good at being alone. The pale, trembling Emma before me with her tear-stained cheeks and shaking hands is a shell of the old Emma. I know they say love changes a person, but I'm more inclined to think that love is weakness. It made Emma breakable, then it broke her.
"Whatever you want, Swan," I sigh in defeat. She throws herself against me with such force she nearly knocks the wind out of me, not that I can breathe anyways with how tightly her arms are wound around my neck.
It was a bloody stupid mistake to come here; it was hard enough to fight my feelings for this woman from three thousand miles away. Now that I know how warm her skin still burns against mine? I don't stand a chance.
Bloody hell, I still want her. I wish I didn't, but I do.