Chapter Five: Still Lovely
It isn't much later when Emma finds herself in the hotel room's small bath, sitting on the closed toilet seat with one of the complimentary towels wrapped around her shoulders and Ruby anxiously hovering over her shoulder, scissors in hand. The time has come for her transformation into someone else, and Emma holds her breath, trying not to react. Henry sits on the cabinet by the sink, watching avidly, and Killian leans in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching idly as well. Finally, Emma can't help her tense outburst, "For Heaven's sake! You're a gun-toting FBI agent; this can't be that frightening! Just cut already!"
Ruby startles, and then gives Emma a sheepish smile. "You got it," she chirps, as if trying to make her voice brighter than she feels. "It's just…your hair is really beautiful, and it's a big change. Honestly? …Even though I'm trying to keep you safe, I felt bad for a minute there." She squares her shoulders, blows out a deep breath, and begins to snip at the bottom of Emma's hair, only taking off an inch or two.
Instead of easing her nerves however, Emma feels herself tensing further with every second. For some reason, she can barely sit still. She isn't sure if it's the haircut itself, everyone watching her when she's used to being invisible, Ruby's tentativeness, or a combination of them all, but she feels herself wanting to jump up and run. When she can stand it no longer, she reaches up to snag Ruby's hand, taking the scissors jerkily. "Here, just let me do it!" she snaps, shooing them all out.
All three of her observers give her confused, questioning looks, until she grabs a large handful of her blonde locks and hacks it off at chin level, fire in her eyes and not even glancing at the damage. For some reason, she feels a sense of loss constricting her chest, but she carries on, embarrassed to be driven to extremes by such a silly thing, yet knowing it's true all the same. A tear stings the corner of her eye, and she blinks rapidly, hoping to keep it back as she soldiers on. 'There's no need to be so upset about it; it's just hair,' she snaps in her own mind angrily.
Growling in frustration at her own weakness, Emma sniffs the tears back and cuts off the last long section of hair she can feel in back, and then goes for the front, ready to chop herself some bangs.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Lass!" Jones has re-entered the room without her notice, his voice pulling her up short even before he latches a firm clasp around her wrist. "Slow down. You needn't prove your determination to us."
She sighs, tense muscles relaxing, relinquishing the scissors to him slowly, and bowing her head. He reaches out, touching her chin gently to tilt her face up to his. "Why don't you let me help?"
Emma lowers her eyes again, pulling away from the warmth of his hand, but nodding simply in acquiescence.
Straightening, Killian's blue, blue eyes pierce hers, injecting the smallest bit of levity into the situation. "Maybe if we make it all a bit of a game. Takes a bit of the pressure off, eh Love?" he murmurs with a quirk of the brow. Then he calls out, "Ruby!" smiling at both she and Henry when they come back into the room too. "Why don't you give Henry that buzz cut he wanted while I do some damage control on this hatchet job of Swan's?"
She opens her mouth to argue, but he cocks his head at her. "Really now, Darling? You've got no way to refute that statement. Why don't you try something new and trust me on this one?"
Soon they are all set up, and Ruby is shaving Henry's hair over the sink while he tries hard to sit still despite his enthusiasm and general five-year-old wiggles. Emma is still sitting tensely in the same pose she has been, but some of the strain leaves at the expression on Henry's face and the exuberant swinging of his little legs over the edge of the cabinet. It's clear to her that he feels completely at ease – even enjoys the whole new experience. None of these changes seem to be upsetting him, so Emma blows out a deep, cleansing breath and forces herself to let some of her own concerns go.
"There you are, Darling," Jones' soft brogue greets her playfully, seeing the relaxing drop of her shoulders. He moves around her, slowly eyeing the cutting she has already done, scissors in his hand. Emma nearly jerks away from the shock of electricity that shoots through her when he finally runs gentle fingers through her remaining strands, skimming the nape of her neck and smoothing and snipping carefully to even up her work. By the time he focuses on the ends, and then cuts some long, sweeping fringe to frame her face, Emma is trembling on the inside and focusing nearly all her energy on making sure the reaction doesn't show. 'How does he know what he's doing?' is a question she tucks away to ponder later.
Killian's warm fingers are placed against the skin of her face, keeping the stray hairs from falling into her eyes, and their breath mingles in the scant space between them. Their eyes meet and hold, neither one able to move or pull away. The frozen moment stretches on, both still as if transfixed, until Ruby exclaims, "Done!" and Henry turns to look in the mirror, crowing with delight at the outcome.
"Awesome!" he chortles, giving Ruby a high five, then jumping down, hugging her around the knees in thanks, and bouncing over to his mother, tapping her on the shoulder, and saying, "Look Mama! Isn't it cool? See what a good job Ruby did?"
Her son's enthusiasm snaps the intense focus between she and Jones, and Emma shakes herself, feeling time start to move forward again, as she runs her hands over Henry's newly-sheared scalp and grins back at him. "It's great, Buddy," she assures, making certain that her enthusiasm rings true, even if everything around her still feels a bit hazy.
"Okay my handsome dude," Ruby says brightly to Henry, stretching out a hand for him to take. "Let's go find some lunch for everybody. We'll bring it back and have a room picnic on the floor."
Henry nods enthusiastically and moves to follow her without hesitation. Ruby is glancing between Emma and her partner, sure something is going on and wondering what, but instead of pressing, she is simply allowing them some privacy to figure it out. She asks Killian if he knows how to handle the hair dying, to which he defensively answers in the affirmative, and then she and Henry leave them in the bathroom alone.
Suddenly going awfully silent, Killian turns to begin preparing the dye formula, and Emma merely watches quietly, wondering just how obvious she was if Ruby felt the need to clear out. The apples of her cheeks have flushed warm and pink with embarrassment – she can feel it – and she tries to decide what's come over her. Upon first meeting, this man seemed so callous, self-satisfied, and infuriating, but now, something tells her he understands far more than she initially gave him credit for. And she has never had such a visceral physical reaction to any man as the one she and Killian Jones just shared.
"Alright now, Swan," said man murmurs thickly, sending her eyes up to find his again and interrupting her thoughts. "I had cut hair before, but this dye job may be a bit of an adventure." He quirks a crooked smile at her, one full, dark eyebrow arching sardonically as he adds, "Still willing to trust me?"
Emma cringes inwardly when her words come out breathless, but she manages to respond. "Now's as good a time as any… I'm putting my life in your hands, might as well offer up my looks too."
He snorts in response, looking pleasantly surprised at her banter, and gracious enough not to mention how doe-y eyed she sounds. Slowly, he begins to apply the colored dye lotion to separate sections of her hair, again stroking down the strands, making sure all is covered evenly and even somehow managing to make it feel good, almost relaxing. Their eyes meet again as he finishes; she has awkwardly avoided his piercing stare while he works, but when his fingers linger, massaging her scalp, and he then steps back, voice conspicuously husky, to say, "All set. Now we just wait twenty minutes," she can't resist meeting his cerulean gaze.
If the charged look they shared before was intense, this one is twice so; the air around them so steamy Emma would swear the glass mirror is fogging up. Killian's gaze flickers down to sweep over her lips, tongue peeking out to wet his own, and she swallows hard, not moving away.
Suddenly, he averts his gaze, moving to take off the clinging plastic gloves and throw them in the trash. He clears his throat and glances at her again hesitantly, "Sorry about that there, Emma. Crowding you a bit, wasn't I?"
She shakes her head mutely, emotions wild and spinning, but he is already moving to the door. "I'm going to call David. See if he has any further directions for us yet. Info on your new aliases and ids, or what have you. I'll give you some breathing room. " With that, he is gone, letting the door click closed slowly behind him.
Emma nearly slumps against it, boneless and overwhelmed at the new range of emotions pulsing through her. It is certainly for the best that he has left her to catch her breath. She might well be losing her senses.
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Forty-five minutes' time finds Emma showered, rinsed, dressed again, and nearly finished drying and styling her much-shorter hair. She knows she is stalling, using the room's complimentary dryer with her back to the mirror. The dark chestnut color shown on the dye box combined with the radical cut is going to be a shock, but she's trying to steel herself against anymore violent reactions.
Finally, she turns the machine off and puts it back in its wall bracket. Turning slowly, she finally meets her own reflection's eyes, holding her breath. Studying objectively, she knows that what she's seeing isn't too bad; for a scruffy, no-frills type of man, Killian Jones has done quite a good job with the cut and color. Still, she feels a singular burning sensation in her nose and the back of her throat, and her vision goes watery from tears that are threatening again, though she won't let them fall. It is frustrating how fragile and erratic she feels; she's always prided herself on being secure and self-reliant, not crying at the drop of a hat or falling apart at nothing, it never does any good, but now she is losing control every time she turns around.
Still, the stranger blinking back at her from the glass is unfamiliar – a person she doesn't know, but will have to become. Her life is no longer her own; she is no longer herself even. Nothing will ever be the same again, and everything she has worked so hard for since she left that prison in Phoenix is gone. Deep down, Emma easily realizes it isn't the haircut pulling at her; it's everything the cut symbolizes. Her hair is gone because Graham is dead, and she saw it happen. She barely recognizes herself because Graham's killers want to find her, and Henry, and silence them as well. This new person looking back at her is not Emma Swan – will never be her again. One solitary tear treks down her cheek and runs under her chin, but she swallows hard and barely makes a sound.
A light knock on the door gets her attention, with Killian's voice following it. "Are you alright in there, Lass? May I come in?" He chuckles, obviously trying to keep his tone light. "I dinna turn it purple, did I?"
Wiping away the tear tracks, Emma moves forward, turns the door handle and lets him in. He is completely still and silent for several achingly long seconds, taking in her appearance and the look on her face. Then, to her utter shame, Emma feels her lower lip trembling as she stands under his quiet, concerned appraisal. Dropping her gaze to her feet, she tries to hide her expression before he can see, but realizes almost immediately that she has failed.
Mere moments pass until he crosses the space between them and pulls her fully into his arms. Stiffening for a second, she tries to hold back, but finds the strong, bracing warmth and support too welcoming to fight. Leaning against him, Emma lets his wiry, muscled arms wrap around her securely, and her shoulders begin to shake, soundless but wracking sobs taking her over at last.
"I'm sorry," she tries to get out, her words muffled against the material of his shirt. "This is ridiculous…I just…"
But Jones stops her with a finger to her lips, holding her out at arms' length to shake his head and then give her a small, encouraging smile before wrapping her back up in his grasp. "Hush, Darling," he croons softly, voice rough with some sort of harnessed emotion of his own that she can't quite fathom. "None of that now. You've got right good reason to cry. Go ahead and let it out."
Emma wants to explain that she isn't this shallow, that the problem is more than it might seem, but as she leans into his embrace and he simply holds her, swaying gently back and forth, Emma senses that he already knows. Her eyes drift closed and she clutches desperately at his shoulders, fisting handfuls of his shirt in her fingers. Her breakdown stays quiet, but she is heaving for breath now, and clinging to him like a lifeline in a storm.
"Shh…shh…" he continues to soothe in that silky, low whisper, letting her purge the horror, the anger, the fear and uncertainty, giving her the chance to mourn what she finally recognizes as lost forever.
Eventually, her tears ease and Emma pulls back just slightly, wiping her face, drawing in a steady breath and finally offering him a watery smile. "Thanks," she rasps softly, "I don't know what – "
"Don't mention it," he assures her, stopping her apology mid-sentence.
She nods, and they stand together for a minute before he gives a playful smile and turns to look at the reflection once more. "You're still lovely, Swan," he states seriously, holding her eyes. "In fact, I quite fancy you as a brunette," he adds with a saucy wink, poking her in the shoulder and urging her to smile again. He even reaches up a gentle hand, brushing the dark fringe of her bangs off her forehead and tucking a few rogue strands behind her ear.
Another one of the long, vibrating silences begins between them as she leans into his touch, wondering what in the world is happening to her. Somehow, she doesn't feel all alone anymore; she trusts Killian Jones, and Ruby as well, to protect them. The face-off is only broken when they hear a key turning in the lock of the main suite's door. They hear it swing open and slam closed, then feet running across the floor towards them.
Just as the door into the bath swings open, Killian pushes her behind himself quickly, using his own body to shield her without hesitation. The tense face that greets them is Ruby's, Henry at her side, speechless and wide-eyed.
"Bloody hell, Ruby!" Killian exclaims. "Are you trying to give us a heart attack?!"
She only shakes her head, speaking urgently. "We've got to move them again! It's not safe here. Someone was following us!"