Chapter Six

"Jones," Emma said, handing him a roll of yellow POLICE tape. "Wrap this around the perimeter at the base. I'm going to head up to the lighthouse first."

He looked at the tape, at the large property surrounding the lighthouse, and then back at her. "Swan, don't you think it'd be faster if we did it together? You know, as a team?"

The area that needed to be sectioned off is quite substantial, given that that it has to be done on foot. It included the parking lot that is large enough for six cars, a small wooded area that ended at the sand dunes, a rocky hill that the lighthouse sat on, and part of the service road leading up to the steel gate. It was a task for more than one person, and she did feel guilty about not giving him help, but she needed to keep him occupied so she could see Neal first. The chemistry and magic involved with animating a dead body in the living world was still something she didn't understand—justifiably—so she wanted to make sure that Killian would not be able to see Neal or sense his presence. The thought of having to explain the situation to Killian made her toes curl and stomach churn. Their current relationship is already on thin ice, thanks to her weakening stance on him ever since the morning, so she really doesn't want to add the fact that her dead ex is no involved into the mix.

Also, she wanted to give Neal prior notice about Killian joining her on Operation Lighthouse. As luck would have it, that also gave her a sickening, nervous feeling.

"It might only take you thirty minutes, Jones. We have all day here, so take your time," she said with a smile. "Consider it your job as the rookie."

He snorted as the pupils of his eyes rolled. "I'm starting to learn that when you willingly come to me for help it's only because it's for something you don't want to do, and it's definitely not to experience the joy of my company."

She couldn't help but to smile. "When you're done, come and find me," she said. He nodded and began to tie the yellow tape to a wooden post jutting out of the sand a few feet away from where they were standing. Giving him one last look, she made her way up the hill to the lighthouse.

At the top of the hill, she turned around. Killian was walking backwards, holding the roll of tape with the index finger of each hand through the middle of the roll so that the circular cardboard spun, and releasing the yellow tape. He pulled tightly so that the tape remained at waist height, in clear view of anyone who might try to trespass. Once she felt comfortable knowing that he would be down on the ground, and not following after her, she walked toward the door of the building. Pressing her palms against the cold steel, she pushed it open. The room was still untouched, as the dust and cobwebs were still visible, and the scent of mildew no harsher in the heat of the sunlight beaming through the windows.

She tiptoed over the threshold, and made sure to close the door behind her, so she'd have a warning for whenever Killian would join her after finishing with the tape.

"Neal?" she said, scanning the room.

It was a few minutes of silence until she heard his smooth voice. "Hey, Em."

Turning around, she found him standing behind her, his face already smiling at her. "I'm sorry it has been a few days since I've been able to come and see you." She stepped forward slightly. "This town elects a slower pace with the whole getting a warrant process."

He shrugged. "Small town. I kind of figured there wouldn't be a quick turnaround time." He tilted his head downward, his eyes still on her. "But at least you are here now."

His intense stare sent a shiver over her. The look he was giving her now is one that he gave her hundreds of times when he was alive. It used to drive her crazy, and they would often end up tangled together, their clothes forgotten on the floor. However now, it didn't have the full effect. She wished there was some way she could see some sign of life or at least see her reflection…anything that would make her feel like she had before.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Oh, before I forget. My partner came with me today. His name is Killian Jones."

"Ah, you're friend."

She rolled her eyes. "I already told you, we are only partners. We work together," she explained further. Her cheeks began to feel warm. She wondered if there would ever be a time she'd be able to believe that there was nothing other than a work relationship brewing between them. "Anyway, will he be able to see or hear you?"

He shook his head. "No. Only you can see me, Em."

"You say that, but are you sure? How do you know it's just me?"

His mouth started to open, but if he were about to speak, he held the words in his throat as the lighthouse's door swung open, causing Emma to jump in alarm. So much for the subtle warning she was expecting, or it taking longer to complete.

"I did as you asked, Swan," Killian said, shuffling into the lighthouse, ducking his head as he walked under the doorframe. He placed the empty cardboard roll from the tape into a meshed garbage pail that was tucked against the wall. "For your future reference, that was definitely a job for two."

Emma's eyes left Neal's to set her gaze upon Killian. "You completed it in record time, too, Jones."

"Well, I don't think you are aware that the ocean prevents me from circling the whole place, unless you expected me to go for a swim?" he said, tilting his head downward. "So I only had to cover a quarter of the property."

"I guess you didn't need me at all, like you thought."

His brow raised as a grin settled on his mouth. "On the contrary, Swan, I'll always have a use for you."

They were just joking around, however even that made it harder for her to separate when he was serious and when he only said suggestive comments to get a rise out her. And in the same way, she couldn't tell the difference between her own playful banter and flirting. She looked away from him, still smiling to herself, as she tied her hair into a ponytail. "We should…get to work," she said, and turned to look around the desk that was against the wall. There was a stack of papers that slanted toward the edge, where some pages fell to the ground, in a cluster of white and black ink. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, crouched to the ground and carefully inspected for fingerprints or any sort of signs of a recent intruder.

Killian, wearing his own pair of gloves, surveyed the top of the desk for any clues. "Do you know what we are looking for exactly?" he asked.

She glanced at Neal, who was now squatting beside her. "No, not really. I guess anything that would prove someone had been her recently."

"Oh, so you haven't a clue," he said with a chuckle, and then without notice, he kneeled on one knee beside her, sandwiching her between the two men. His closeness startled her, especially since she could instantly feel the warmth of his body, smell the remaining aroma of his alpine body wash, and feel the brushing of his shoulder against hers as he wobbled on one foot, slightly losing his balance. All of it was a vast difference to the lack of presence Neal has, even though he was also just as close to her.

"Swan, when are you going to tell me why you wanted the warrant so badly?" Killian asked, and checked the room with a turning of his head. "This place looks like it hasn't had anyone in it in decades. Why would anyone want to commit a crime in here?"

Keeping her eyes on Neal, she replied, "A hunch. I don't really know how to explain it, but there is something that feels off about this place."

Killian lightly bumped into her shoulder with his, this time it was on purpose. "Your constant determination of being vague only makes me more curious," he said. "I enjoy a good mystery."

Breaking her eye contact with Neal, she shifted to look at Killian. And once more, unlike Neal's, she was able to see herself in Killian's eyes. There is no mistaking the magic of his gaze, smile, or the way the raise of his eyebrows sent her to questioning her own resolve in avoiding the attraction she felt towards him, because she was doing a poor job trying to maintain her distance.

It took her a minute or so to snap out of her trance, realizing that she had been staring longer than normal, even though he didn't seem to mind as a smile reappeared on his face. She continued her focus on the papers, since she was all out of sugar snacks to get her back on track.

The rest of the morning, Emma, Killian, and ghost-Neal spent their time searching through boxes, drawers, shelves, and anything that could possibly hold a clue, something to help Neal with his quest to moving on to his final destination. Emma was determined, even without any sort of direction or plan, she wanted to see Operation Lighthouse through until the end. Most of all, she didn't want to let him down.

An hour or so before noon, she noticed Neal was no longer in eyesight. She told Killian that she was going on a break, and he answered with a mumble as he sorted through an old sea chest, marveling at rusted nautical navigation tools and acting as if he had found buried treasure.

The only other place Neal would be—if he hadn't become invisible to her—would be the top of the building. So she made her way up the spiral staircase, her boots clicking off the metal grates. The stairs seemed to go on forever, her thighs feeling heavier and heavier until she finally came to the last step. At the opening, where the circulating light was kept on a high platform, she once again felt the bright warm sun on her skin as if cascaded through the glass dome. And as she made her way outside, to the tiny veranda that encircled the dome, the salty wind blew through her hair.

At the peak of the lighthouse, she felt on top of the world, or at least at the highest point in Storybrooke. On the beach below, the waves crashed onto the beach, changing their forms to white foam that seeped into the wet sand. As the water collapsed onto the surf, it was more of a silent roar, compared to the thunderous blows that could be heard while standing in the sand. The navy blue ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see into the distinct line of the horizon; the light blue of the sky spilling into the sea. A perfect marriage of dark and light, calm and unpredictable.

"Are you looking for me?" Neal's voice came from behind her. Before she could answer, he appeared next to her and made his way to the chest-high railing that surrounded the veranda.

"I am," she replied. It bothered her that she couldn't use her so-called superpower to read his mind, to know what he was thinking. All she could see were blank pools of emerald as she looked into his eyes.

"I didn't mean to leave without saying anything," he said, his eyes on the sea. "It sounds silly, but I'm not used to sharing you with another man."

Emma bit her lower lip. On the drive to the lighthouse, she wondered how Neal would respond to the addition of Killian into their plan. They aren't in a relationship anymore, since he is dead, so she didn't expect him to be confrontational towards Killian, but she worried that she may upset him having someone else with her. In a way, she felt like she was betraying him, even though she really wasn't. "Neal, I'm sorry Killian came along with me today. He doesn't like it when we go on patrols without each other."

He shrugged, still keeping his body facing the horizon. "Em, what could I do about it? I can't fight the competition, even though I'll admit the way he looks at you when you're not looking makes me want to take a swing at him."

In the awkwardness of the situation and what he said, a chuckle fell out of her in response. "Neal, what are you talking about? He does not look at me. We don't have anything other than a work relationship."

"Emma." He turned his head, with his chin slightly tilting downward, his eyes in line with hers. "I'm dead, not stupid. The guy totally gives you the look."

She couldn't decide if it was the high altitude or her dead ex-boyfriend talking to her about another guy who may or may not have feelings for her that made her feel fuzzy all of the sudden. Waving her hand in the air, she replied, "Neal, it doesn't mean anything. Jones and I just met…we are barely friends."

"That may be true, but I'm," he placed a hand over his chest, "coming from experience. It didn't take me long to love you."

When she worked with Neal in the city, he'd sneak smiles when they'd sit across from each other at meetings, invade her personal space with light accidental touches, graze his hand against hers while they were in an elevator with others, and whisper in her ear when he thought she looked beautiful. She knew he fell for her before she could even surmise what the intense beating of her heart meant whenever he stood next to her or said her name. His impulsive nature allowed him to take a giant leap with her, when she could barely accomplish more than a tiptoe. Somehow, though, he understood her hesitation and her inclination to shy away from emotions that were tied to intimacy. He gave her time, as if he placed all of his bets on her eventually opening her heart to him.

Now, as she stood with him at the top of the lighthouse, she wondered when it was he had bought the diamond ring. What moment lead him to decide he wanted to spend his life with her? What about her did he love so much that he wanted her to be his forever? And what would've her answer been if he had the chance to ask her to marry him?

There were so many questions she wanted to ask, about the ring, about his plans, about how he felt, why he decided it would be him to rush the guy in Times Square…but hesitation set in as a warning. Asking him wouldn't change anything. And finding out the answers would only make her feel worse.

"Em, I have always wanted you to be happy," he said, breaking the silence. "Being dead doesn't change that. I'd sacrifice everything all over again to make sure you were all right."

"Neal, if, and I do mean a big if, I love someone else one day, it won't be Jones." For the second time, she has had to declare her resistance to accepting Killian as anything but a work partner. Unfortunately, that didn't make her believe it.

Neal's smile immediately left his face, as his eyes widened, looking over her shoulder.

"Swan, why are you saying my name into the wind?" the voice of Killian came from behind her.

She bit her lip, teeth digging into the chapped flesh. For the second time today, he accomplished to sneak up on her. Why didn't I hear him climbing the stairwell? Her eyes met Neal's, as if she were looking for some kind of help, a way of escaping, anything to take her away from here. But he only shook his head, as he moved passed her, leaving her with Killian.

Killian's footsteps circled from behind her to the steel rail in front of her. He leaned forward, balancing on his bent arms. She could see a smirk creeping on his face as he stared off at the ocean.

"How long were you standing there, Jones?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Long enough to hear you declare you would never love me," he replied. He shifted his weight slightly, resting mostly on his right side. "I didn't realize it was a custom to share your secrets at the top of a lighthouse."

Guilt set in, taking residence within her. If she could, she would take it back, because she didn't mean a word of what she said. It was supposed to be kept as a word of caution to herself more than anything, in an attempt to instill it in the muscle memory of her heart…to not allow him inside of it. Not that she has substantial feelings for him, she just doesn't want to make the same mistakes she had with Graham or experience the same loss she did with Neal if she were to be in a relationship with Killian. The only way to prevent either result from happening, she thought, was to continue to push him away, to consider every skipped heartbeat and flutter of her stomach as nothing but a human reflex.

"I'm pretty sure secrets aren't kept if they are heard by others," she said, walking over to where he remained bending on the railing. She leaned against the metal, her back to the ocean, so they stood side by side, experiencing different views of their surroundings. "If I were to share an actual secret up here, I'd make sure you were far away."

"I'll remember that for next time when I have a secret for you," he said, and turned his head. His gaze upon her made her wonder if both Ruby and Neal were right about the way Killian treated her. It could all be her imagination, influenced by the voices of others—and her own—,but she definitely sensed something growing between them, whether she allowed it or not. He definitely was acting differently with her today, being bolder with finding loopholes to touch her and going out of his way to remain by her side.

Has he always been this way? Or is she only noticing now after having others point it out for her?

"Jones, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, though," she said. "I've had a lot happen to me, and I really just want to be fr—"

Friends.

"Swan." Straightening his back and becoming upright, he took a few steps to position himself in front of her. Without pause, he leaned forward, and placed his arms on either side of her, gripping the rail she was leaning against with both hands. His face and body were just inches from hers, completely disregarding the rules she had previously set about boundaries.

"Jones, what are you doing?" she asked, arching backward in an attempt to add distance between them. It didn't matter how far back the thoracic part of her spine could curve over the railing, she still felt his warm breath against her skin, smell the lingering scent of his body wash and cologne, and be influenced by the blue enchantment that seeped from his eyes.

"Let's go for a drink after work tonight."

It took all of the willpower left inside of her to look away from the evident magnetism she felt wafting off of his body. Like static on the skin from an oncoming thunder storm, she felt a spark, a tiny one, but still, there was something there in that moment. She should know better than to follow the same path she had twice before. Hell, she has been trying so hard, since she met him, to resist whatever it was that she felt for him. But that didn't mean she could force herself onto another path, one less traveled.

Except now, somehow, she had enough power to shake her head in response to his question. "I don't date people I work with."

"I didn't say anything about dating. It's just a drink, Swan," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Her conscience was shouting at her, practically begging, to push him away, and get back to work. However at this moment, it was her brain that became traitorous, halting the sending of messages to her muscle, leaving her absolutely defenseless to his blue-eyes-mile-wide-smile spell he has successfully put her under. And quickly, that other path she had the option to take, the one that would lead her in another direction and not repeat history, was at threat to becoming an afterthought.

"I—I am not sure that's a good idea." Drinks, plus her lowered defenses, plus Killian with his charming overconfidence, most definitely equals Emma ending up in a situation that includes a hotel room, their clothes scattered on the floor, and feeling shame about her severely weakened resolve.

The left side of his mouth curled upward in a half-smirk. "Think of it as a work team-building experience. You don't trust me, and I think it has to do with the horrible first impression you must have of me."

"Well, you were in jail," she said. "And I'm pretty sure the bar is the root of the reason why."

"I promise to be on good behavior so we don't end up in someone else's handcuffs."

Maybe it is the blue of the ocean that corresponded with the color of his eyes, the heat of the sun radiating on her skin, sensing his body so close to hers, being the only two people in Storybrooke to be sharing such an amazing view, or just the sheer fact—the one that she has been trying so hard to deny all day—that Killian Jones has effectively invaded her walls holding a coffee cup in one hand and using fancy, suggestive words.

"All right, Jones. One drink." She was defeated; the second monster he managed to slay in two weeks.

He never looked away, even after her answer. An expression of wonder, as if she handed him the world, appeared on his face, leaving her without any idea of what to say or do. A tinge of warning bubbles in her stomach, telling her that if they continued to stay as close as they are, she would reach her hands around his neck and kiss him. That would be impulsive, and she is not sure if she could handle the consequences of that right now, especially knowing that Neal could potentially catch them. And that is a situation she does not want to endure.

"Jones," she said, and placed a hand on his chest. She didn't apply pressure, but her touch was strong enough for her to feel the tightness of his muscle and the faint beat of his heart through his shirt. "I think we should finish up here."

He cleared his throat, and removed his harms from her sides. "You're right. Sorry, about that, Swan."

She gave him one last look, and then hurried to the stairwell. Giving in to Killian broke all of the rules she had set for herself, causing her to realize just how in trouble she is when they go out tonight for drinks.