October 2011
Emma considered staying in bed all day when she woke Sunday morning. She decided against for two reasons. One: Her roommate seemed like the type to try to get her to talk and avoiding her would be much easier if she was out of the apartment. Two: Damage control.
Granny's was bustling when she walked in the door. Stomach somersaulting, she scanned the room, not sure what she would do if Killian had become the Sunday breakfast type.
"Haven't seen him this morning," Ruby said from behind her. She wore her usual number—not that she was judging but those shorts had to be some sort of health code violation—and appraised Emma with a cynical eye, her pen tap-tap-tapping against her order book. "Breakfast today?"
"No," she said, "just my hot chocolate."
Ruby nodded.
Emma sidled up to the counter, leaning against an empty stool as she watched Ruby work. She kept glancing behind her, giving Emma that same narrow-eyed look.
"So," she said in a low voice as she slid the cup toward Emma, "how long have you known Hook?"
"I knew him," Emma said. "A long time ago."
"Based on last night, I take it things didn't end well."
"I trusted him and he left. End of story."
Ruby nodded. "He said he'd been here ten years, right?"
"You'd be a better judge of that, don't you think?" Emma sipped at her drink. "Unless you weren't here back then."
"No, I was here," she said, picking at the Formica. "I've always been here." She sighed. Before Emma could make too hard about that, Ruby leaned forward. "So if he left you ten years ago…"
"I never said that," Emma snapped, even though it was true. She didn't understand why he would leave her and come here.
And the way he mentioned it to her before he split, like he came here to wait for her. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He couldn't have expected her to follow, couldn't know she would end up here a decade later. Unless he'd meant it as a test, mentioning it to see just how gullible and willing she was, probably banking on how desperately she wanted someone to depend on. Even if that made sense, despite everything else, that kind of manipulation didn't sound like the Killian she had known.
Not that she was sure she ever really knew him. Not after what happened.
Ruby gave her a look, a clear Cut the crap as she continued her thought. "And Henry's nine…"
Emma let her reach, the sentence hanging between them as she gave Ruby a hard look, daring her to ask the question.
"I'm guessing he doesn't know," Ruby said finally.
"He doesn't deserve to know," Emma said.
"Emma, this is a small town. He's going to hear and do the math eventually."
"At which point—if that happens—I will deal with it." After all, she'd been in town almost two weeks and he didn't know last night. Maybe it was old news by now. "Listen, Ruby, you don't know him like I did and trust me, Henry's better off without him. He has enough to sort through without Ki—Hook screwing things up for him. I am asking you not to say anything. Please."
Ruby pursed her lips, drumming her nails against the countertop. "Fine, but not for you, for Henry."
Emma sighed. "Thank you."
# # #
Killian spent Sunday on his boat, running his encounter with Emma the previous evening over and over in his thoughts as he cleaned the Miss Guided from stem to stern. Truly, he did his best thinking while working with his hand, he always had.
Whatever trust issues Emma had when he first met her had grown into mile high walls. And since he had contributed to their making, he could hardly begrudge her the effort it would take to convince her to giv him a second chance. He certainly didn't deserve such a privilege, but he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't try.
Which made his first task to apologize for leaving in the first place.
Monday morning found him rising extra early, hoping to get to Granny's before she did. As the bug still occupied it's place down the street, he guessed that she lived nearby.
"Good morning, Ruby," he said as he sauntered into the diner.
She looked up from taking some woman's order, nodding in acknowledgment before returning to her work. Killian leaned against the counter and waited. Perhaps Ruby's attire was rarely professional, but her manner as she took the woman's order was. He admired that. Though he knew she wasn't always happy under her grandmother's thumb, she hardly ever treated customers with disdain or contempt—even those who deserved it.
At last, she delivered the ticket to the cook and came to take his order.
"Your usual?" she asked, already reaching for the paper cup.
"And a hot chocolate," Killian said, "with cinnamon."
Ruby's hand froze halfway to the coffeepot, her eyebrows shooting up. "That's going to be a waste of your money, Hook."
"Why? Has she been in already?" he asked.
"No," Ruby said, "but she'll probably throw it in your face."
Killian nodded. "I'd deserve that, but if you don't mind I'll take that hot chocolate all the same."
Ruby's eyes searched him, her scrutiny tempting Killian to squirm like a schoolchild. At last, she shrugged. "Your funeral."
Killian sipped on his coffee, black as always, as Ruby readied the hot chocolate. She took her time, carefully sprinkling the cinnamon over the whipped cream before she nestled the cup in a cardboard carrier. Killian nodded his thanks, placing his own drink cattycorner to Emma's, before fishing a bill out of his pocket and tossing it onto the counter.
"Change is yours," Killian said.
Ruby shook her head, but pointed up the street. "She'll be coming from that way. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"And I appreciate it," he said, shouldering the door open.
He didn't need the tip as it turned out, because the first thing he saw when he turned that direction was Emma standing next to a giant yellow vehicle sporting black, block letters on the side that declared "Storybrooke Elementary". She waved as the mayor's boy disappeared inside the bus.
There was something about their relationship that struck Killian as strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had spoken the truth. Henry had a knack for striking up friendships with the oddest people, one of whom was Killian himself. Perhaps it was simply that Emma understood things the mayor couldn't. Henry was no lost boy, but his parents had given him up and the not knowing must sit as heavy on his soul as it did Emma's. It made sense that they would connect. After all, hadn't it been that connection that kept Killian and Emma together all those years ago?
Emma caught sight of him standing by the bug and slid the keys she clutched into her pocket, her mouth turning to a tight, dark line.
"Swan," he said, smiling.
"Hook," she replied, narrowing her eyes at the cardboard carrier and its attendant beverages. "Planning to meet someone?"
Killian set the drinks on the roof of her car. The cup rasped against the cardboard as he pried it from the carrier. Smiling despite Emma's grim look, he offered her the hot beverage.
Her eyes flicked to the cup, then back up at him. "What is that supposed to be?"
"Hot chocolate," Killian said. "Or at least, that's what Ruby claims she made."
"You know what I mean."
"A peace offering, as we'll be seeing each other regularly." He gave a quick half bow, arm still extended.
Emma crossed her arms, her fingers crinkling the leather. Red was a good color for her, different—brighter—from what she used to wear. When he knew her, her jackets tended toward neutral colors. He wanted to find out what had inspired the change, but first he needed to get though a conversation without her threatening him bodily.
"You don't have to drink it, Swan, but could you at least hold the cup a moment so I can get my own drink out?"
Grudgingly, Emma curled her fingers around the little paper cup, allowing Killian to retrieve his own drink. Slipping his hook through a hole on the paper carrier, Killian transported it the few feet to the trash can and disposed of it. When he turned back, Emma watched him with a more open expression, curious, but curiosity quickly morphed back to annoyance when his gaze fell on her again.
"Trash can is right here," Killian said, gesturing to the oversized metal basket.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"To make things right."
Emma snorted. "And you think a cup of cocoa is going to do that?"
"No," Killian said. "But I thought perhaps a few dozen would be a good start."
Emma clenched her jaw, but couldn't hide the spark of amusement in her eyes. "That's it?"
"That is it."
"Does it have cinnamon?"
"Of course," Killian said.
Emma nodded and turned down the street, heading toward the sheriff's station. Killian sighed. At least she hadn't gotten into the bug and driven off. There was determined and then there was obsessive. He hurried after her.
"Listen, Swan…"
"Whatever you have to say, Killian, I don't want to hear it."
"Emma…"
"No." She spun on him. "No, don't Emma me. You don't get to do that. What can you say…what excuse can you possibly give that fixes what happened?"
Killian bit the inside of his cheek, he deserved the way her words lashed into him. By far, one of the most painful he'd ever endured—and he had endured his fair share.
If it was too late, then he couldn't blame her for wanting nothing to do with him. It was his own bloody fault. He might be a stubborn asshole and most certainly no company for a princess, but he was a gentleman and he would never force his presence when it was unwanted.
"You're right, I can't." He swallowed. "I just thought you deserved to know how sorry I am. I wanted you to know that not a day has gone by that I don't regret leaving. I can't explain it, not in any way that will satisfy you, not when the explanation doesn't even satisfy me. If you'll let me, I'd like to repair what we had. But if you want nothing to do with me, I'll understand, say the word and I'll stay out of your way."
Emma clenched her jaw, her gaze trailing down the street. He didn't turn to see what it was, didn't have to, her eyes had that faraway look of someone caught in a memory. The last ten years weighed heavy in her gaze.
"We could have been—we were a family, Killian," Emma said, turning her eyes on him, the full force of her hurt hitting him, "and you threw it all away, everything you had, because I wasn't good enough for you."
"Emma…No…"
She shoved the cup of hot chocolate at him, barely giving him enough time to pin it against his chest with his arm before she left, head held high as she walked away. Killian watched her go, murder radiating from her being, and counted himself lucky she hadn't done exactly as Ruby suggested she would. He deserved that and worse.
And yet, when he gave her an out and she hadn't taken it.
Perhaps, there was hope in that.
She was worth fighting for, even if it took him another ten years to regain her trust. He could live with that. If he could wait three hundred bloody years to kill the Crocodile, he could give Emma the space she needed. He could wait as long as it took to convince her that he had—that he could change.
# # #
What possessed her to accept the hot chocolate?
Growling, Emma hurried around the corner, blood boiling. He thought a cup of cocoa and an apology were enough to repair the damage done. He thought that they could just go back to what they were after the way he left.
It was ridiculous and she questioned his motives the first time around even more.
Why had he taken her in? Time and experience had taught her that guys only wanted one thing and that, by and large, once they got that they would be on their merry way. That was why she only did one night stands. She saw no reason to pretend things were any different. Not for girls like her at least.
She should have dumped that cocoa in the trash the minute he handed it to her and told him off, the way she had imagined so many times when she was in prison and pregnant.
And yet, she hadn't told him to "bugger" himself right out of town. Despite his offering.
An oversight on her part. She wanted nothing to do with Killian Jones. Absolutely nothing.
"You know, Emma," Graham said, startling Emma from his spot leaning against his squad car, "if you didn't want the job, you didn't have to take it."
"What?
He pushed off of his car, standing at full height as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It was a job offer, not a court order, if you don't want to take it…"
"No," Emma cut in. "Sorry, I just had a run in before I came here, didn't put me in the best mood."
Graham glanced behind her, grey eyes darkening. "Are you alright?"
Emma scoffed. "I can handle myself, Sheriff."
"Oh, I've no doubt of that," he said, smiling slightly, "but that doesn't mean you aren't upset. Which, I might add, the dark look suggests you are."
"I thought you were a cop, not a shrink," Emma said.
Graham laughed. "Point taken." He patted the hood of his car. "I thought I might show you the town, let you get a feel for the job before you committed fully. I'm afraid it's not as exciting as what you did in Boston, but it still keeps you on your toes some days." He hit the button on his key fob and the locks popped up with an audible click. Graham waited until Emma was on the other side before he opened his own door and slid inside, the engine revving to life with an unfamiliar ease.
She already knew the streets at the center of town, so Graham took her into the suburbs, giving her a rundown of any trouble she could expect. His voice had a pleasant, soothing cadence to it, one Emma couldn't help enjoying as they drove. According to him, Storybrooke was every bit the sleepy town she'd pegged it for on her first night here. But even in a sleepy town, you had the occasional issue. Loose dog, cat in a tree, lost grandmother, town drunk. Nothing like the criminal element she dealt with back in Boston.
"So how long have you been here?" she asked.
Graham shrugged. "Awhile. Things stay the same so much here—time just sort of blends together, but I do remember sitting in the same seat as you on my first day."
"What happened to the last sheriff?" This was small talk, she was not still looking for proof that Henry was wrong. Of course Henry was wrong. The only curses that actually existed were the four letter kind that got bleeped out on newscasts.
"He retired."
"You know pretty much everyone here, don't you?"
"A fair few of them, yes. Mostly the troublemakers though."
"Do you know Killian?" At his blank look, Emma tried again. "He goes by Hook here."
"Ah, him." Graham nodded. "Is he the reason you looked ready to pick a fight with a grizzly bear this morning?"
"Maybe."
Graham shot her a sharp look. "I know of him. Lives and works down by the docks. He keeps out of trouble for the most part. Wicked temper drunk though. I've let him sleep it off at the station once or twice."
"Huh," Emma said. "He really did settle down."
And that hurt. Because if that was his plan all along, why did he leave her? What was the point of offering her that life if he never planned to take her with him? The answer was obvious when she thought about it. He told her what she needed to hear to get what he wanted. And here he was pulling the same trick again. He liked the chase apparently, and here she was presenting a new challenge.
"You sound like you knew him," Graham said.
Emma looked out the window. "Yeah, a long time ago."
"Is he—"
"Henry's dad?" Emma sighed. Her chances of keeping this under wraps certainly looked grim if that was the first thing anyone asked her. "Yeah."
"Oh," Graham said, blinking. "I was actually going ask if he was someone I should worry about."
Emma groaned. "Damn. Can you forget I told you that then?"
Graham pulled the car over, turning around in his seat to look at Emma. "So…"
"He doesn't know, and I don't want him to know," she said, not quite able to meet Graham's eyes. She felt his judgment. "Look, if he's got a good thing going here, I don't want to ruin it for him." That surprised her, but it was true. She didn't know what to do with Killian right now, but she knew she didn't want to turn his life upside down. "I just—I don't want him to hurt Henry like he hurt me. Okay?"
"But he's not any danger to the boy?"
"Only if you consider cutting and running without explanation as dangerous."
The steering wheel creaked under Graham's fingers. "Then this can stay between us, but Emma, if that ever changes, you have to tell Regina at least. If he's a danger to Henry, she's the first person who should know."
"Fair enough," Emma said. The thought had never occurred to her. She probably should tell Regina, regardless, but for some reason the thought irked her. Things with Regina were tense enough, no way Henry's mom would believe she only just discovered Killian living in town.
The radio squawked, a call coming over in broken, crackling syllables. Graham adjusted a few knobs, taking the call. Some crotchety old man calling about teenagers playing in his yard.
"Ready for your first official experience as deputy?" Graham asked.
"Ready and raring."
He snorted, checking for the non-existent traffic before he pulled out onto the street.
The day dragged on. They took another call for a cat up a tree. And a call about a stolen bike that turned out to be just a couple of kids playing a prank on a friend. There were quite a few antsy people, but no one yelled or threw things or threatened them. Emma wouldn't have guessed she might enjoy a boring, easy job, but…to her surprise she found it satisfying. As the sun sun below the horizon, Graham headed back to the station, wanting to finish Emma's little tour before he got back out there to supervise the late night Halloween crowd. Already, little kids were running up and down the neighborhoods, clad in cheap fabric with glowsticks hanging around their necks.
"So," he said, the thud of his boots echoing as he strode down the station's empty hallways. "What do you think? Interesting enough for you?"
"It's certainly different from bail bonds work," Emma said, "but in a good way."
Graham grinned at her, eyes lighting up. "So you'll be staying on?"
"I told you I'd take the job."
"Good," he said, flipping on the overhead lights as they entered the room. He gestured toward the desks in the main room, heading for his office. "Your uniform is on the desk."
"Uniform?"
"Yep."
A shirt and pants sat atop the first desk, still in their cellophane packaging. Emma rolled her eyes. They were hideous. The standard khaki fare that plagued all highway patrolmen with stiff, black epaulets on the shoulders. Emma pulled the shirt out of the wrapping, grimacing at the clip-on tie. She shook it out, holding it against her chest. It was at least a size too big. Nope, not happening.
"A tie," she said, turning to Graham with the shirt still held to her shoulders. "You know you don't have to dress a woman as a man to give her authority."
Graham exited his office, turning something small over in his hands. "So, you think you can get people to do what you want in that red coat?"
Emma dropped the hideous shirt. "I'm getting you to do what I want right now." She smirked at him, hands on her hips. Assertive, she told herself, not flirty. The last thing she needed was a workplace fling. Kind of difficult to escape those, unless quitting was an option and it wasn't, not if she planned to stay.
He sighed. "Well, at least wear the badge," he pleaded, brandishing a little leather clip with a shiny, six-pointed star. The words "Sheriff's Department" circled a little depiction of a tree. He held the badge out to her, eyes drilling into her. "Go on—take it. If you really want to be a part of this community, we have to make it official."
She took the badge, more unnerved by the solid, weight of the leather in her hand than the way Graham's fingers brushed against hers. The symbol of authority chafed against her psyche. Emma Swan, an authority? She'd spent ten years studiously avoiding this kind of real, lasting responsibility. But having a town counting on her couldn't be any more difficult than having a kid that counted on her. Could it?
She did need this job.
Emma slid the badge home on the waistband of her jeans.
The earth shook beneath their feet, the crash so loud Emma felt it reverberate inside her. She grabbed for the desk, trying to stay on her feet. Graham reached for her, staggering briefly. Their eyes met for a moment and then all the phones were ringing, taking his attention elsewhere.
He didn't bother answering the phone. Instead, grabbing his keys from their hook and striding out the door.
Emma looked down at her badge.
It was coincidence, right? Weird timing.
Of course it was. Emma shook the thoughts from her mind—she was starting sound like Henry—and hurried after Graham.
So much for a boring first day.
# # #
They found the source of the trouble quickly.
The crowd was quicker, already ringing the crater as Graham and Emma drove up in time to see Regina jumping out of her own car. The area had obviously been recently disturbed, fine grit still floating in the air.
"Everyone!" Regina called, approaching the crowd. "Step back, please!"
The whole town turned out it seemed, or most of the people she knew, Emma noted as she took in more than a handful of familiar faces surveying the mangled scrap metal in the middle of the vast depression.
"Is that a crater?" Ruby demanded.
"No, there were tunnels," an old man replied. Marco, the man from her first morning in town. "Old mines. Something collapsed."
"Sheriff," Regina began, marching up to Graham. "Set up a police perimeter. Marco, why don't you help with the fire department?" She looked taken aback to find Emma there, her mouth puckering as though she tasted something sour. "Miss Swan, this is now official town business. You're free to go."
"Well, actually, I work for the town now," Emma said, feeling more than a little satisfied as Regina's sour grape look deepened.
Graham nodded. "She's my new deputy."
"They say the Mayor's always last to know."
"It's in my budget," Graham replied.
"Indeed." Regina plastered an official smile on her face, nodding at Emma. "Deputy, why don't you make yourself useful and help with crowd control?" A look passed between Regina and Graham as she took a step back, adjusting her jacket and standing a little straighter. "People of Storybrooke, don't be alarmed. We've always known this area was honeycombed with old mining tunnels. But fear not. I'm going to undertake a project to make this area safe – to rehabilitate it into city use. We will bulldoze it, collapse it, pave it."
"Pave it?" a familiar voice cried. Henry appeared, Archie hot on his heels, pushing through the crowd to his mom. "What if there's something down there?"
Emma's head jerked around, her fingers clenching around the roll of yellow tape she just retrieved from the back of the squad car. She fought the urge to grab him and pull him back from the hole, he stood too close for her liking, but his real mom was here and she seemed to have similar thoughts as she cut off hi headlong rush toward the crater.
"Henry. What are you doing here?"
"What's down there?" Henry asked again, an accusatory note in is voice.
"Nothing," Regina said, voice tight with concern. "Now step back." She looked up, her eyes taking in the crowd once again. "In fact, everyone! Please, please step back. Thank you."
Emma held her hands out, directing people to step away from hole, gently shepherding the people who tried to peer just a little too long.
Henry's voice cut through the night again. "What was that?"
Emma turned to see Regina pull her hand out of her pocket and direct an exasperated look at her son. A hot prickle washed over the back of Emma's neck and she turned, knowing she would find Killian watching them and making conclusions.
Only he wasn't there.
"Henry, enough," Regina said, her patience seeming in short supply today. Then again, when wasn't her patience in short supply. "Listen. This is a safety issue. Wait in the car." She watched as Henry turned, trudging back to the black sedan. She waved a dismissive hand toward Emma and Graham. "Deputy Swan, Sheriff—cordon off the area." With a dismissive toss of her head, Regina stalked off, leaving Emma and Graham to deal with the crowd while she went off to talk to…whoever mayors talked to whilst settling a crisis.
Though in Emma's estimation, this hardly qualified as one.
After Graham grabbed a couple of guys from the fire station to help keep nosy townspeople from wandering too close, he took care of hammering the stakes into the ground around the crater, while Emma went from point to point with the yellow tape. The adult version of connect the dots. Every now and then, she glanced over at Regina's car, where Henry hunkered down in the passenger seat, his dark head nearly invisible against the black leather.
Emma was on the last stretch, about to close the oddly shaped polygon when she heard the hoarse whisper.
"Archie!" Henry hissed, waving at his therapist. "Over here." Crouching low, Henry trotted around the squad car, meeting Emma as she threw the roll of police tape in the back seat. Archie came, full of skepticism, as Henry fixed serious look on first him and then Emma. "This requires all of Operation Cobra. Both of you."
Archie's head jerked up, giving Emma a look that said he knew the whole story. "I didn't realize I was in Operation Cobra."
"Of course you are," Henry said, his voice soft and serious. "You know everything. We can't let her do this. What if there's something down there?" A dozen questions laced his words. Another mystery to be solved, exactly the kind of thing Henry loved. If it wasn't feeding into his delusions, Emma might have found it cute.
"They're just some old tunnels," she pointed out.
"That just happen to collapse right after you get here?" he said, like she should know better. Editing reality as always. "You're changing things. You're weakening the curse."
"That's not what's happening."
Henry wasn't having any of it. "Yes, it is! Did you do anything different today? Cause something made this happen."
Emma's hand went to the badge on her belt again, and she immediately started kicking herself. She was supposed to rubbing off on Henry, not the other way around. It was a coincidence. Nothing more. A cosmic joke that she was reading way too much into.
Before she could reply, Regina marched over.
"Henry," Regina said, bending down so Henry got the full force of her stern glare. "I told you to wait in the car. Deputy, do your job."
Emma turned tail and ran, Regina was in a fine mood today and she did not want to be in the woman's way right now, especially when the next words to leave Regina's mouth were, "Dr. Hopper. A word, please?"
Whatever Regina had to say, it must have been quick, because when Emma looked over her shoulder to check on Archie, he stood alone. She took in the caved shoulders, the bowed head, the tight grip on his umbrella . Regina may have been quick, but she was apparently also efficient.
"Hey," Emma said, coming back over. She stuck her hands in her back pockets, not entirely sure why she felt the urge to…what? Comfort? Encourage? "You okay? She, uh, she doesn't blame you for bringing Henry does she?"
Archie didn't reply at first, but something in the silence shook him out of his thoughts. "What? Oh, no, she's doesn't blame me for that. I pick Henry up from school quite often when town business keeps her from doing so."
A car door slammed. Regina's car door. Emma looked over in time to see Regina gun the engine and speed away from the area, Henry slouched in the front seat. His posture screamed sulking, but as they drove past, Emma caught the telltale glint of mischief in his eye.
Archie sighed.
"You sure you're okay?" Emma asked.
"Yes, of course," Archie said.
A lie.
But then, Emma didn't suppose she would want to advertise getting dressed down by Regina either.
"Okay, well—" She trailed off, catching sight of a familiar face in the crowd. So he was here.
How had she missed him?
Killian for his part seemed oblivious to her presence. He was assisting another man in an orange safety vest as they set up barricades, adding extra precaution to the highest edges around the crater. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen, a vest and button down shirt clothing him to the wrists and still somehow leaving very little to the imagination. Emma stared at the set of his shoulders, watching the fabric slide over muscles she could picture in her head.
Killian paused, tilting his head slightly, enough to make it clear that he had been aware of Emma from the start.
Red, hot anger flared inside her and before she thought better of it, she marched up to him.
"What are you doing here?"
Killian slid the crossbar into place and turned to Emma. "Currently? I'm trying to make sure only a sodding idiot could miss the giant hole in the ground." He swept his hand expressively toward the crater. "It would appear they were a bit short-handed."
"I mean what are you doing here, in Storybrooke?"
Killian sighed. "We've covered this already, Swan…"
"Why, Killian?" And to her horror, her voice cracked.
His eyes softened, understanding dawning. He nodded to the man he assisted, gently taking Emma's elbow and guiding her away from the crowd. She jerked her arm away after the first few steps, but she followed.
They stood in silence, Killian worrying his lip between his teeth and running his fingers through his hair. Emma clenched her fists, telling herself she was ridiculous for want to see if it was still as soft as it had been all those years ago. Just when she couldn't take it anymore, when she thought she might explode from the tension—or punch him, she'd been wanting to deck him for ten years and it was really taking all of her restraint not to—Killian spoke.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," Killian said softly. His hand left his side for a moment, halted halfway to her and dropped back. Eyes pleading, he waited.
Emma swallowed. "I take it you don't think that anymore?"
Killian shook his head.
"Why?"
He sighed. "Leaving you was never the right decision." He looked away, scratching behind his ear. The toe of his boot dug into the gravel. "I'm sorry, Emma. I was weak. I took the easy way out when I should have been strong. We could have figured out a way to make it work."
Emma's thoughts were like leaves in a hurricane.
How many times had she imagined those words? I'm sorry. I should have stayed.
If he had stayed, she knew without a doubt that Henry would be with her. She almost spat that at him to see the look of hurt on his face, to see him hate himself as much as she hated him for leaving. She didn't. She wasn't ready for him to know that they had this…they had Henry connecting them forever.
"You expect me to believe that you were thinking of what was best for me?"
"What else would I have been thinking about, Emma?"
She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to put the pieces together. His eyes narrowed, a slight flush creeping to his cheeks.
"Gods, no," Killian said. He took a step toward her and Emma didn't have the sense to step back—at least that's what she told herself. "Do you really think so lowly of me that you believe I would deliberately set out to take advantage of a teenage girl?"
"Well, clearly, I didn't know you as well as I thought," Emma said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And, clearly, you don't know me as well as you thought. What makes you think you can waltz back into my life and expect things to go right back to the way they were?"
Killian gave her an exasperated look. "First off, that's not what I expect. I fully expect to have to earn your trust again. And I expect it will be difficult." He closed even more distance between them, the blue of his eyes holding her steady, trapping her, even as he lifted his hook between them. "And secondly," he said, brushing her jacket aside. "You're still wearing the keychain I gave you."
The hook slid under the pendant so deftly, she barely felt it. Fear flashed through her—was Killian actually threatening her—but she realized quickly that wasn't the case. She remembered the way he used to reach out with his left arm, only to pause and look down. As though he expected something to be there. She thought he just hadn't adjusted to his missing hand yet. Now she understood, the hook was such a natural extension of him that it didn't matter to him which he used.
Didn't mean Emma was comfortable with it.
She stepped back, her fingers closing around the swan charm. With a hard yank, she pulled it off.
"It was a reminder," she said, "to never trust anyone ever again." She grabbed his hand, turning his palm up and folding the necklace inside. "And you can have it back now."
Killian looked at the little charm sitting in his hand, the silver chain spilling through his fingers.
"That used to be how I lived," he said softly, avoiding her eyes. "But now I know better. There's no sadder way to live."
"Really?" Emma said. "And what led you to that epiphany."
He didn't speak for a long moment. He met her gaze, his eyes cutting right through her. "You did, when you came into town and I realized that I the way I felt about you hadn't changed."
Emma scoffed.
"I am sorry, Emma." He closed his fist around the necklace again, shoving it into his pocket. "And if we can never be more than friends, I understand, but it's a small town and I'd like us to at least be able to stand in line at the shop without attacking each other."
"I know how to be civil," Emma said and she turned, stomping back to the squad car, hoping she got there before she broke down again. She still had a car ride with Graham to get through. If she was going to do that, she needed to rein in her emotions. She needed to get everything back under control.
# # #
Killian knew the moment Emma stepped out of the squad car, he felt her presence settle in the back of his consciousness as he surveyed Storybrooke's latest attraction. Things were certainly much more interesting now that Emma was in town.
As she moved and worked among the crowd, he was aware of her, but he didn't approach her. Not after this morning. No, right now was the time to stay out of her way, let her come to him. Go about his business and perhaps, once their paths had led them into contact a time or two, he would broach mending things again.
The last thing he expected was for Emma to drag him away from helping with clean up and ask for the answers she claimed to be uninterested in this morning.
Of course, he couldn't give her the real answer, but he gave her the important one: he was weak. He took the easy way out. He ran. He should have—for her he could have been strong enough to rebuild the lines between them. And who knew, perhaps, after more time had passed, after they had healed and grown—well, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was always meant to find Emma Swan.
He just found her at the wrong time.
As he watched her pick her way carefully back to the squad car, he truly hoped that the mistake in timing hadn't cost them their chance. The hope scared him, the last time he had hope like that he lost it. It was the reason he was here, after all.
"I don't appreciate you harassing my deputy, Hook," a rolling voice said from behind him.
Killian turned to find the sheriff staring him down, hands on his hips, one of them rested casually on his gun. Killian raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know what things looked like from your angle," he said, "but she approached me."
"And you expect me to believe it's coincidence that you ended up here, when you knew authorities would show up?"
"Not much happens in this town. I'd find it stranger if everyone didn't turn out whenever something does." Killian crossed his arms, tucking the hook under his arm last minute. Wouldn't do to have the sheriff decide Killian was threatening him. "Now, are we done here? Because last I checked Emma was more than capable of taking care of herself."
Graham narrowed his eyes. "She's in my employ. It's my job to watch her back."
Despite himself, Killian nodded. "I'm not here to cause trouble, Humbert, just came down to lend a hand."
Graham took a moment deciding whether Killian meant that as a joke. He must have settled on 'no', because he still looked grim as he closed the distance between them. "Emma says she has a handle on the situation…"
"Then perhaps you should listen to her."
"I'm willing to take her word that it's none of my business," Graham said, "but if it turns out she's wrong, if you hurt any of the people I care about I will find a way to take you out of the equation. From what I know about Emma's past, I'm sure there's something I could dig up on you. They're looking for you somewhere, I'll bet."
Truthfully, Graham was right. There were people looking for him in all sorts of places, but none in this realm. Shrugging and walking away would have been the best answer, but Killian couldn't stomach to look of self-righteous contempt on Graham's face. Whatever Emma told him, it can't have been good, other than the few times Graham caught him stumbling home drunkenly, he had never experienced a problem with the sheriff. So rather than give the best answer, Killian went for the low blow.
"Oh, so you care about her, do you?" he asked in a low voice, lips curling up into a knowing smirk. "Tell me, does the mayor know that?"
Graham took a step back, glare intensifying.
"Perhaps you should get your own affairs in order before you come poking holes at how I handle mine." He saluted Graham lazily. "Evening, Sheriff." And with that, he swaggered away.
