And if you're reading this one, here's the next chapter – hope you all enjoy :D
Emma's feeling of invincibility lasts as long as it takes them to actually come face to face with the occupant of the small cottage. Buoyed up by the success of her negotiations with Teddy the bear and her family, Emma is feeling quite prepared to tackle whatever lays inside this dwelling.
Right up until the woman who's answered the door to them asks what it is they want. Now she finds that her tongue, so useful in charming bears, fails her utterly because she wants to list everything she longs for; food, clothing, a comfortable bed, and most importantly, a safe passage home to her family. But she is terrified that the woman will merely close the door on them and they will have to face the night alone.
Instead she opens her mouth but finds that the words don't come out, they're so jumbled in her head that she can't pick through to figure out how to start. Instead she turns to Killian and watches as he tries to articulate the problem.
"We are…that is to say, we had a small mishap and are in need of some assistance."
"Mishap?" the woman asks, suspiciously, her eyes flicking from Killian to Emma.
"Um…" Killian seems stumped, so Emma jumps in.
"There was a boat and we fell off it."
The woman looks even more suspicious. "Where, exactly? There ain't a port near here."
"Uh, we've been walking, for a while," Killian said. "And we just need…some help."
Emma thinks that he should really have been more specific, in her experience people aren't mind-readers and if you want something, then you need to be clear on what it is, exactly. But she's worried that he'll think she's falling back into some kind of wayward imperiousness again because she has no idea how to ask for help rather than command it, so she stays silent.
"Who exactly are you?" the woman asks, still deeply suspicious.
"Killian Jones." He extends his hand out rather formally and the woman declines to take it, which leaves him looking flustered. "And this is, uh…" faltering, he turns to Emma.
"Emma," she says, at the same time as Killian finally finishes with "My sister." There is silence, while they both stare at each other, and Emma can't figure out why Killian said such a ridiculous thing and while he is now frowning at her when he clearly needed help.
She sighs, loudly, and turns back to the, still very puzzled, woman. "We just need a place to rest, and, also, perhaps some clothes that haven't been in the sea. Maybe some food?" Emma gives what she hopes is a winning smile, and expects that the woman will reciprocate, at the very least.
In fact, the woman looks like she might just shut the door in their faces.
"I mean…if you are able to help us at all," Killian adds, frowning again at Emma who definitely doesn't think she deserves to be frowned at. She was only trying to get to the point rather than dancing around it.
"I don't want any trouble," the woman says, slowly.
"We're really no trouble at all, and, look!" Emma slips off the ring she's wearing on her little finger and offers it to the woman. "We could pay, with this."
The woman does, at least, take the ring when it's proffered, although it occurs to Emma that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to just hand it over to someone who could still shut the door in their faces.
But she examines the ring, twisting it in her hands, and Emma purposefully watches her and doesn't turn her head to see what expression Killian is sporting now.
He's most likely frowning. Again.
"Well," the woman says, glancing over them again like she's weighing the matter up. "This'll get you something clean from the rag box, but if you want food, you'll have to work. And you can sleep in the barn."
Emma realises that what the woman is offering isn't exactly what she's used to, but she brushes the thought away because somebody, finally, is going to look after them, and they won't be alone anymore.
"Thank you," she says, and it's such a relief when the door opens fully and they're ushered inside that she completely forgets for a moment that Killian is even with her and there's a terribly awkward moment when she almost shuts the door behind her as Killian is still trying to get inside.
The indignant look on his face makes her feel ashamed; after all, he's the person who's been stuck with her up until now and there she is, trying to abandon him at the first sign of a friendly welcome from someone else.
At least their hostess has stopped looking at them suspiciously and has moved on to something that looks more like a smile.
Emma looks about expectantly, cataloguing the furniture and things in the small cottage, just in case Killian is going to start going on again about the decoration. And, certainly Emma could admit that he had been right when he'd realised that there was something…different about the last cottage they'd been in.
But he hadn't had to be quite so mean about the Goldilocks thing afterwards.
Killian isn't paying attention to the furnishings this time however, and he turns to the woman before asking "And what may we call you, madam?"
Emma is almost surprised that he can pull out such nice manners when he needs to, remembering the whole chair breaking incident in the bears' house. But she then realises that his manners are putting her own to shame and she tries to gather herself and look suitably grateful for their hostess's generosity.
"Mistress Dab," the woman replies.
"Well, thank you again for your kind hospitality," Killian replies smoothly and Emma tries hard to think of something to add, but can't and so ends up blurting out "And you have clothes?" all the while knowing that it is downright rude to ask in such in a manner, but the prospect of changing out of her ruined dress is just so appealing that she can barely contain herself.
Killian frowns at her again, but, honestly, at this point it's water off a duck's back. The woman…Mistress Dab, frowns a little and then directs them to a basket in the corner of the room. "That's what I've left at the moment. I was going to make quilts but you can have whatever's there, although I daresay you might have trouble." She nods in Killian's direction. "My Jack's a lot bigger'n you."
"I'm sure we'll be fine," Killian assures her and Emma waits until the woman indicates the basket again before diving in to see what she can find.
Whatever she was hoping for, the contents of this basket are certainly…less than that. Mistress Dab hadn't been lying when she'd said these were rags, and the collection of dull and faded clothing with frayed edges and worn patches would have been decidedly unappealing if Emma's hadn't been so desperate to shed her current dress.
Eventually she finds a few things that might do, and then, feeling bad that she has taken over the basket, she pulls out a coat that might be suitable for Killian. "Here."
He eyes it dubiously. "I…I should be alright. I mean, you said. Merino." He points in the direction of his waistcoat and goes to put the jacket back in the basket.
"Yes, but also very, uh…white. You look odd, which is why I don't think she wanted to let us in." Emma's voice has dropped to a whisper so that Mistress Dab, who has left them alone to tend to something in the kitchen, will not hear.
"I look odd?" Killian asks. "You look bedraggled. Also you were very rude."
"At least I could talk to the poor woman. You just stammered at her like you were a little simple."
"I don't need a jacket," Killian grumbles again.
"Yes you do. And…these." Emma pulls out a pair of trousers that have definitely seen better days.
"I don't think that I really need anything," Killian demurs.
"Well, just…put them on." Emma's out of arguments, but hopes that Killian finally gets the message and so she takes the bundle of clothing she's holding and goes to ask Mistress Dab where she can get changed, before being shown to a dank, dark bedroom that smells of something unpleasant.
Emma wants to change as quickly as possible and get out of the room, but she is hampered once again by the ties at the back of her dress and, frustrated, she seeks out Mistress Dab.
The woman mutters as she loosens Emma's dress, and she is far rougher than Killian had been, which Emma finds a little surprising. "Stupid way of getting dressed," Mistress Dab says, as she gives the ties one final tug.
"Yes. I agree." Emma retreats to the dark room again and quickly removes her dress and torn chemise, before replacing them with the new clothes. It takes her a while to figure out that the corset is so heavy because it goes over the blouse, and that it should tie in the front. That is a much more sensible idea, she has to admit, and, although nothing fits her quite properly, at least she is now covered and feeling somewhat restored in the process.
She exits the room only to be faced with a miserable looking Killian. The jacket is, as predicted, far too large for him and the trousers aren't much better. He looks like her little brother Davy every time he's given some hand me downs from his brothers in the hope he'll grow into them.
"That looks…alright," Emma says, feeling guilty for having got the better end of the bargain out of their deal with Mistress Dab.
Killian pulls a face that tells her everything she needs to know about how much he disagrees with her. Trouble is that she can't make it right for him, and more troubling is the fact that she wants to. So badly.
It doesn't seem fair when she's feeling immensely better for the chance to change her clothes that Killian should look so miserable.
And Emma has never dealt well with things not being fair. Despite the fact that it's Eva's favourite catch-cry whenever she rails against the injustice of Emma being her elder, Emma does, in fact, want it to be fair for everyone.
But Killian isn't Eva, and Emma can't, in this instance, grudgingly agree that it would be amenable to have some company during an outing. This can't be easily fixed by acquiescence or a heartfelt plea to her parents or any of the usual things that make life that little bit more tolerable.
It makes Emma annoyed. And a little snappish. "Well, I traded my ring for those clothes so you will just have to put up with them," she hisses, and Killian looks instantly ashamed.
Emma feels ashamed too, now, but doesn't quite understand why Killian capitulated so quickly. She'd worked herself up for an argument and it's quite infuriating when he just goes quiet.
"I mean…we'll do something about it…later on," she says, shrugging.
"Yes. You're right, of course." And though he sounds sincere, Emma doesn't feel very right about anything.
Killian looks down, and seems to be trying to find a way to say something. "Was it very…I mean, what was the history?"
"History?"
"The…the ring. Was that something from…a relative, as well?"
The realization that Killian thinks she's bartered something akin to the crown jewels for his replacement clothing shocks Emma and leaves her flustered. "No, it was just made of pretty shell. I bought it at a market, in the Maritime Kingdom. I mean, you must buy souvenirs when you visit new places?"
"No." Killian looks perplexed at the idea.
"You don't buy anything?"
"Well…just, uh," he looks down at the ground. "Mostly food. The sort that hasn't been salted and stored in a barrel."
"Oh." Emma tries to figure out if she needs to add something else to that when Mistress Dab bustles back into the kitchen and looks them up and down. "Here," she says, handing a pair of extremely well-worn boots to Emma. "You'll need these if you're going to work."
"Work. Yes. Of course." Emma smooths down the apron tied over the skirt and tries to muster that ready for anything feeling again. She takes the boots and in return holds out her ruined dress. "This might be useful for your rag box."
Mistress Dab makes a face and Emma suspects that the dress will likely end up on the fire instead, but she will hardly regret that fact. For one thing it's just a dress, and it's not like she doesn't have others, and for another she has already taken off the large pearls that decorated the front just in case they need something else to barter with.
Not everyone is likely to be as impressed with seashell trinkets as Mistress Dab has been.
"My Jack won't be back 'til it's right dark," the woman says, as Emma sits down on a chair to pull on the boots. "So you two can help out by dealing with that pile of logs out the back of the barn. Took some trees out yesterday, and they're just sitting there."
"Logs?" Emma looks inquiringly at Killian, hoping that he understands the instruction.
"Aye," Killian says, nodding, which Emma thinks is a good sign. "You want firewood."
"Bit o' kindling, too, would be handy. You'll find what you need in the shed out there." With that she nods, and disappears back to do whatever mysterious task needed her attention.
Emma follows Killian outside testing her boots. They're not the most comfortable to wear, but it is nice to finally have something solid between the soles of her feet and the ground, and maybe they'll feel better once the cuts and scratches from today's walking have healed.
For a moment she's lost in a fantasy about a basin of hot water and a chair and when she starts paying attention again she notices that Killian has located an axe he's now swinging merrily.
"Are those the logs?" she asks, pointing to, what are clearly some logs, and the question is so completely obvious that Killian stops in his tracks, staring at her with a puzzled look on his face.
Well she just wanted to be included in what was happening.
Emma shrugs and Killian carries on with what he's doing, walking over to a large stump and placing one of the logs on it before hitting it with the axe. It's interesting to watch, for about a minute and then Emma finds it all incredibly boring.
She was all ready to go and do something and now there's nothing to be done.
"What can I do?" she ventures, as Killian pauses to remove the jacket that's too big for him.
"Uh…no it's alright." He looks her up and down and goes back to chopping wood.
"There must be something I could do?"
"You can…you can…well..." Killian looks around helplessly, and then shakes his head. "I'll just…it won't take me long."
Emma huffs at that, and crosses her arms, but it goes unnoticed as Killian is completely focussed on his task and she is left standing there. "You know you're lucky you get to do this, it's right up your alley isn't it?"
"What is?" Killian sounds hot and exasperated as he turns to face her.
"This. Breaking things. First the branch off the apple tree, then that poor chair. Now someone actually wants you to break a bunch of stuff. Must be wonderful."
Now it's Killian's turn to look exasperated and annoyed. "I'm so sorry that there aren't any bears here who require you to translate, Goldilocks."
"I just don't want to stand around waiting for you," Emma replies.
"Fine." Killian, drops the axe on the ground. "You can move everything to the woodpile."
"Woodpile?"
"There's bound to be one around. Just take the wheelbarrow and go look for it, add that wood to the pile, and bring the wheelbarrow back."
"Alright." Emma thinks that can't be too hard, although pushing the wheelbarrow, now nearly full of the wood Killian's chopped sounds easier than it actually is.
But Emma's determined not to let the fact that she's struggling show, and she pushes with all her might and gets the thing moving, which is an achievement, although she's now not certain in which direction to actually push it.
She slowly makes her way around the side of the barn and finds a small rickety shelter, under which are half a dozen other, similar logs. This must be the woodpile. She braces her feet and pushes the wheelbarrow up to tip it and, with a great clatter, the wood lands in a pile.
Emma's pleased that she's accomplished the task, and wheels her, now much lighter barrow, back to Killian, who glances at her curiously.
"You find it then?" he enquires.
"Absolutely, no problem. All ready for you to fill up again." She parks the wheelbarrow proudly and stands beside it, while Killian takes the opportunity to stretch, and then remove his waistcoat.
For a moment Emma wonders if he's going to take his shirt off as well. The image of how he looked returning from bathing that morning is burned in her brain and she would like the opportunity to see if she's remembering it correctly.
It's such a strange thing to be interested in, to even think about in the first place, that she wonders what's come over her. It's not that she's attracted to him, because well…she's just not. But it's all so fascinating all the same, being around a boy…man…without all the pomp and circumstance that normally accompanies her life. She wonders if other girls her age feel this way and, if they do, what they do about it?
But she has no idea on that front and Killian remains covered anyway. He begins filling the wheelbarrow, as she'd suggested. This time around Emma helps out by loading up the logs alongside him and it's nice to feel useful.
When she pushes the wheelbarrow out around the barn again she knows where she's going, and she's even confident enough to pause in her journey and try to tempt one of the farm cats to come closer so she can pet it. It doesn't accept her offer of friendship, however, and remains aloof and unobtainable.
Undeterred, Emma tips the wheelbarrow and adds the logs to the growing pile before taking it back to Killian, who is, she notes, chopping a little slower now. "Do you want me to take over for a while?" she offers, and it's hard not to wince at the face he pulls in response.
"I can use a sword," Emma points out. "And I've used one of the dwarf's pickaxes." It was Dopey's, and she was only allowed to swing it once before Grumpy just about had a conniption, but Killian doesn't need to know that.
"I'm sure you're doing fine with the wood pile," Killian says, and she gives up arguing and decides that she will do an excellent job with the wood pile.
Several loads later the pile has grown so much that it's spilling out of the little house designed for it and across the bare earth of the yard. Emma thinks that's a good sign because they'll be glad to have all this fire wood. Also she found out that the cat had kittens and managed to entice one, a small black ball of fur, to come close enough that she could pick it up. Although she could only hold onto the wriggling, mewling ball of fur for a few moments, she did find some comfort in stroking its soft coat.
And may have also vented a little of her annoyance by telling the kitten that Grumpy had nothing on Killian.
The distraction of the kitten meant that Killian had been left wondering where the wheelbarrow was, and he strides around the side of the barn, logs in hand, to find her.
"What's that?"
"Kitten." Emma watches as a tiny black tail disappears behind a trough.
"No," he points over her shoulder. "That."
Emma looks at where he's pointing and assumes this must be some kind of joke at her expense because she asked such a silly question about the logs earlier. "I know you've seen a log pile before so you can stop pretending."
"But that's not a log pile," Killian argues, and that makes Emma turn her attention fully from the whereabouts of the recalcitrant kitten.
"Yes it is. It's a pile of logs. What else would it be?" She refrains from rolling her eyes, but, honestly, the joke is wearing a little thin.
Killian sets the wood in his arms down carefully and strides closer to the pile. "It's just…it's everywhere." He kicks a piece with his foot which is a mistake because it ricochets into a large clump and several logs skitter down the pile and land at the bottom. "You're supposed to stack them," he says, sounding bewildered.
"But you said to make a pile!"
"Because I thought you would know."
"How would I know when you used the word pile?" Emma's honestly confused because she tried, she really tried and woodpiles are, it seems, like porridge and one of the mysteries of the world she's not been privy to up until now.
"No, well, I see now that I will have to be more specific next time," Killian says, not really disguising the exasperation in his voice. "And, also, that after I have split the kindling I see that I will have to actually pile this wood up so it doesn't maim someone, or get drenched because it's just lying out in the yard, or become the home of a vast colony of rodents."
Those are, Emma admits, all good reasons for keeping the wood neatly stacked. And she might be prepared to concede that, if, and it's a big if, the person currently explaining them to her wasn't quite so angry at her for not just knowing them in the first place.
She's trying to think of a good comeback that puts the blame squarely back on Killian's shoulders when Mistress Dab suddenly rounds the corner of the barn and she takes a deep breath in instead. No point in letting on to their hostess that Killian is an unforgiving idiot and Emma herself doesn't know a woodpile from a pile of wood.
A plastered on smile will hopefully save the day, or, at least, that's Emma's hope until she notices that the woman is chuckling to herself.
"You know, I wasn't sure about you two when you first arrived…thought you might be one of those kidnapping things, or just kids running off to Helensville to get hitched. But, I tell you, I ain't ever seen two siblings argue over a woodpile like you two. Not even my Jack and Jill, and they've had some right clangers."
"Oh. Right." Emma's a little flummoxed, and when she looks over at Killian, he just looks ashamed, colour appearing high on his cheeks.
Well, he should be.
"Anyways, I just wanted to see how you were gettin' on. There's progress, so that's somethin'. Despite the hollerin'." With that she chuckles again, and leaves.
"Well I wasn't hollering. At all." Emma decides that opening her defence with denial is her best tactic. Just to get it out in the open.
If he hadn't complained about the wood quite so much then Mistress Dab would have felt no need to comment.
"It's hardly any matter now. I still have to re-stack all of this and chop the kindling and the light has nearly gone."
"I'll help." Emma doesn't expect that her offer will be gratefully accepted, but even so, the fact Killian completely ignores her still stings.
"Just…tell me what I'm supposed to do," she tries, and he grudgingly turns around to look at her.
"We need to stack it all, as close to the back as possible."
Emma nods, wishing she'd had that information earlier and they set to work. This way is definitely harder on the hands, and she feels as though she can't really complain about the splinters she receives, but she'd like to all the same.
Also it's a little frustrating when the cat finally deigns to come close enough to touch and Killian merely shoos it away by hissing at it.
"You could at least be nice to the cat," she remonstrates. "I wanted to talk to it."
"Can you speak to those, too?"
"No. I just wanted, you know, to pet it." Killian's face is still scrunched in confusion, much like it was when she was speaking to the bears. "Like you do, with cats," she finishes.
Killian gives a disgusted look. "Chance would be a fine thing. It's likely to rip you to shreds first."
"It seemed friendly." That's a bold faced lie, but Emma doesn't care in the slightest.
"Anyway, it has a job to do. It would be bad form to let the farm get over-run with mice because you were too busy dangling a ball of wool for the cat."
Emma gives up. They'll never agree on cats, it seems, any more than they can agree on the correct way to treat a pile of firewood.
Although she does have to admit that it's better when it's stacked up.
After that she trails Killian back to where he was chopping the wood, and watches as he uses a different axe with a smaller handle to split some of the firewood into slivers.
"Can I try that?" she asks, wondering if she'll get the same brush-off she's had before, but this time Killian actually stops and looks at her this time, holding out the axe.
"Go on, then," he says, and there's a hint of a challenge and Emma won't get it wrong this time, she absolutely cannot afford a repeat of the whole woodpile debacle because she can't bear the thought of being considered incompetent.
Not when she'd been the one to negotiate with the bears.
It takes her a few tries to get the axe to connect with the log and when it does, the wood doesn't split quite as cleanly as it does for Killian, shearing off a strip that's little more than just bark. She half-expects him to point it out, but he doesn't, instead he watches her curiously and she tries again, with more success this time.
Feeling more confident, she keeps going and finishes with the log before moving onto a second one. Killian seems to be in his element gathering up the kindling and stacking it neatly in the wheelbarrow.
"Perhaps I should have left the woodpile to you in the first place," Emma says.
"Perhaps," Killian agrees, and, although she'd like to have some praise for the job she's doing with the kindling, none is forthcoming.
Killian takes over again for the last couple of logs, and Emma makes a valiant effort at replicating his neat stacking, and then they take the kindling around to the woodpile, which is now being investigated by three kittens, which Killian looks as if he's about to shoo before he checks himself and stops mid-hiss.
He glances sideways at Emma, before adding some of the kindling to the pile. "If you take the rest into the kitchen, I'll put the tools away," he suggests and Emma nods, and gather up the wood in her arms, hoping she won't suffer any further splinters in the process.
In the kitchen she places it beside the fire, a little more haphazardly than Killian might perhaps have done and wipes her hands on her apron, finding that she understands a little more about what use these garments have now.
"So you're the girl," a deep voice says suddenly and Emma jumps in surprise and turns to see who it is all in the same movement.
"I…suppose." She looks around the kitchen, wondering where Mistress Dab has gone and why this man has suddenly appeared.
"Ma said she'd had some strangers turn up. Where you from again? The Maritime Kingdom, was it?" The question sounds casual, but Emma isn't sure of the man's intent, he's slowly but surely moving closer to her and soon she'll have nowhere to go but up the chimney.
Clearly this is the Jack that Mistress Dab spoke of, the son whose cast-offs Killian was now lumbered with and who was, indeed, taller and broader with small dark eyes and almost no hair. She's faced bears this afternoon, but she finds that she likes being alone with this man even less.
"We are…lost," Emma says, and is grateful when Killian enters before she has to add anything to the explanation of exactly how they came to be at the farmhouse.
"And you're the brother." Jack's attention is now on Killian and Emma feels the tension in the room as they size each other up. At any other time she'd be annoyed by such a brazen display of manliness, but right now she's glad that there's another person here to take the attention away from her.
"Aye," Killian replies.
"I was tryna have a chat with your sister, but she don't seem the chatty type. Downright unusual in a woman, that." He laughs as though it's the funniest thing in the world, his eyes sliding from Killian to Emma, waiting for them to join in.
Emma manages a weak smile, Killian remains stony-faced. "Maybe she just doesn't want to speak to you," he says and the laughter abruptly stops.
Jack purses his lips and may be about to say something else, but his mother bustles in and tells them all to sit down so she can serve dinner.
Emma and Killian hesitate, unsure which chairs around the table to take. Under less tense circumstances Emma may have told Killian to be careful with this time, it would be terribly bad form to break another chair, but she is hardly in a joking mood. Jack, for all the fact he's smiling broadly at the food in front of him, has changed the mood utterly with his presence.
"Sit down," Mistress Dab admonishes, banging some dishes on the table.
"Your daughter isn't joining us?" Emma asks, finally choosing a chair and sitting down.
"She married near 'bout six months ago. Don't see her much now as she's busy with the baby." Mistress Dab pauses, as she takes her seat. "Honeymoon baby, it was."
"You keep sayin' it, Ma, and maybe it'll be true someday," Jack adds, with a wink towards Killian and Emma as though it's a joke they're all in on.
"You hush up about your sister," his mother scolds, and he sets about eating noisily instead, which Emma finds far preferable to any further talking or winking.
Killian also starts eating and Emma, as hungry as she still is, pokes her food with a spoon. The contents of the bowl are all muddled together, everything a grey-brown and exactly which parts are meat and which vegetables are difficult to distinguish. Still, at least it is not porridge and she takes a tentative bite of something mushy and…is it mutton?
Emma lifts her eyes from the bowl and realises that Mistress Dab is watching her curiously. "It's very good. Is the mutton from your own farm?"
The woman seems pleased at her interest. "Yes, that it is."
"I have a flock of Merinos myself," Emma says, thinking that his might be a safe topic of conversation.
Jack screws up his face in disbelief. "In The Maritime Kingdom? Don't think they go much in for farmin' up there."
"Well…in some parts they do. I mean, it's irresponsible for a kingdom to rely solely on trade with its allies. That way lies economic ruin." Emma is pleased with her answer, but Jack and his mother look a little stunned and Killian taps her shin with his foot, none too gently.
She sighs. Once again she's fallen into the trap of regurgitating one of Princess Abigail's lessons. She'd done the same thing earlier in the day when she'd first mentioned her flock to Killian and then become flustered when she'd…well, it seems ridiculous now that she'd been so thrown by just touching him, because she'd been touching him all night.
"She says some strange things when she does get goin', doesn't she?" Jack says to Killian, like Emma isn't even there at all. She wants to open her mouth to protest, but Killian flashes a warning glance in her direction and she keeps her mouth shut.
"I don't think she's wrong," Killian ventures, and Jack gives him a scathing look.
"Wrong ain't same as strange. Bet your folks're real worried that she ain't ever gonna be off your hands, things like that comin' out of her mouth all the time."
Emma bites hard on her tongue and tries to ignore the hot prick of tears behind her eyes. It's stupid, she knows, letting Jack get to her like this. It's probably not his fault that he's ignorant and thoughtless and just plain wrong, but she still can't bring herself to forget the sneer in his voice as he spoke about her like that, right in front of her.
Clearly Jack is expecting Killian to join him in his appraisal of Emma's unsuitability as a wife, but Killian's jaw tightens and he simply mutters "She's fine."
It's possibly the highest praise Killian's given her since they'd arrived at the farm, and, in other circumstances, Emma may have been able to appreciate it. But she can't, not when Jack snorts unattractively and goes back to eating but his eyes keep flicking over to watch her as she eats.
It makes Emma's stomach turn and it's an effort to get through the rest of the stew.
When they're done Mistress Dab tells Emma she can see to the dishes, which cause panic to flare up in her chest. Emma tries not to look as incompetent as she feels as she gathers up the bowls and then stares around helplessly, wondering what the next step is. They need to be cleaned, but where? And with what? And what do you do with the small bits of food still at the bottom?
She stays rooted to the spot, wondering if Mistress Dab will give her any direction, but the woman has retired to a chair by the fire and is rooting through a bag of wool completely ignoring her. Of course Jack is watching her intently, no doubt to see what she'll do next and she's still just standing there and feeling utterly foolish when Killian suddenly stands up.
"I'll help." It's such a relief that she can't help but smile at him, because she had wondered if she'd be left to wipe the dishes out with her apron or something.
"She got you wrapped around her finger there, hasn't she? Your sister." There's something of a question in the way Jack says the word sister, but Emma doesn't care because she just has to get this one task done and then she'll not have to speak or be near Jack ever again.
Sleeping in a barn had never seemed so appealing.
But Killian says something about needing to fetch water and then disappears out the door before Emma can even reply and she feels incredibly vulnerable, standing there still trying to work out where to put the dishes. She had hoped that finding people, finding somewhere to stay would solve all their problems.
It's just given them new ones.
"Scraps go in there for the pigs," Jack says, pointing to a large bucket in the corner of the kitchen.
"Oh. Of course." Emma should have realised from the smell coming from it that that was its purpose and she doesn't relish spending time hovering over it, but it keeps her safely occupied and away from Jack at least. But it doesn't diminish Jack's interest in what she's doing and he's watching her carefully.
"You ain't done that much, have ya?" he observes.
"No, I have," Emma lies. "I mean…I've seen it and, um, my mother kept house for some dwarves."
Jack screws up his face at her words. "Dwarves! They're right nasty, smelly creatures, they are." And then he looks thoughtful. "But you don't get many Maritime Kingdom way, thought they all congregated round those mines, near Misthaven."
Emma tries to think of an answer and is glad when Killian walks back in with the water.
"Just been hearin' about your ma cavortin' with dwarves," Jack says to him cheerfully and Killian stops in his tracks.
"No, she…" He catches Emma's very pointed glance and his mouth slams shut. "Oh. Right."
"Dead weird family, you lot," Jack mutters, half to himself Emma thinks, and she doesn't even want to attempt to answer that one. Better to just carry on with her tasks, and the arrival of the water means she can move on to other things and not hover over the smelly slop-bucket any longer.
Jack watches them for a while longer and then leaves his place at the table and Emma pretends she hasn't noticed and carries on with dunking the dishes into cold water so Killian can dry them with a rather dirty looking cloth. When she does glance up at him, he looks pensive and she wants to suggest that they just leave now, but it's completely dark and they have no chance of finding shelter anywhere else and Emma isn't certain what she fears more, spending the night knowing that Jack is not far away, or being forced to huddle with Killian again so they don't freeze to death.
One notion makes her skin crawl, the other makes her feel something else entirely. Something she very much doesn't want to think about right then.
With their task finished, Mistress Dab comes over to bid them goodnight. "This is all I got to spare," she says, pushing something dark and a little musty into Killian's hands. "But you'll probably be better off sharing out there. Gets a bit chilly, I daresay."
Killian looks at the blanket he's now holding and then at Emma, who goes over and picks up the basket the bears gave her. "It's alright," she hisses. "I've still got the baby blanket."
They take a small candle from the table and make their way outside to the barn. Emma expects that Jack will suddenly pop up again in the dark, but he's nowhere to be seen and the scuttling noise that makes her start is merely one of the kittens.
"Bloody cats," Killian murmurs, as he holds the candle out so they can examine the barn. "Which side do you want?"
"Side?"
"Of the…the straw." Killian indicates where they'll be sleeping, an area that Emma had assumed was reserved for the animals. She'd known they were sleeping out here, known that they'd be unlikely to have beds as such, but even so…being confronted with the reality is something else altogether.
For a few moments she wonders whether, if she'd taken up Teddy's offer to be her pet, she might have been allowed a bed at the bears' cottage.
But she sets down her basket and asks Killian if she might borrow the candle for just a moment, venturing with it back out into the dark night where she pays a visit to the outhouse, pleased to find that her bleeding is at least almost at an end, and then onto the little shed where the tools were stored for something else to keep her comfortable through the night.
When she returns to the barn she finds that Killian has spread the blanket out on a patch of straw and is busy shooing a kitten away from it. "I think they like you," Emma comments.
"The feeling isn't mutual. Anyway, you can have the blanket."
"I…but I have the baby blanket."
"You'll be more comfortable with something underneath you. I've got this…coat." Killian sounds less than impressed with the idea of sleeping wrapped in Jack's old coat but Emma's tired and not in the mood to argue and quite frankly prepared to be a little bit selfish.
She blows out the candle and tries to settle herself down for the night, removing the corset part of her outfit and the well-worn boots, and placing her belongings within easy reach. It takes a while to find a comfortable position, lying on the scratchy blanket with Teddy's softer one over her, and she does her best to ignore the fact that Killian seems to be having trouble settling as well. That is, if the constant rustling of the straw is anything to go by.
Despite her exhausting day, Emma finds it difficult to sleep. Now that she is lying down she can catalogue every ache and pain quite clearly. Her feet throb and sting, her hands burn and she can't lie on her right side comfortably because there's a bruise on her hip that she didn't even know she had.
The rustling isn't just Killian either. The farm cats must have decided that now is a good time to get to work for the night. Or perhaps it's their prey she can hear. Or maybe something else entirely. Emma doesn't know.
She had hated sharing a bed with Eva in the nursery. Now she'd give anything to go back to knowing who was keeping her awake and what on earth that scratching noise in the corner is.
She tries and she tries to relax enough to doze off and she is almost, almost there when she hears a new noise, a far more human noise. Something hissing to get their attention in fact.
Killian, who she'd believed was actually asleep given by the way he'd stopped moving, jumps to his feet almost immediately and she hears him move to the door of the barn. Emma stays still, but her hand reaches out for the item she'd procured earlier; the short-handled axe.
Straining to listen, at first she can't make out what's being said, just the murmur of two voices. The other one is male, though, so it must be Jack. After a few moments of hushed conversation his voice rises in volume and she can make out the words. "I jus' want a go with her, too."
"What?" Killian sounds disgusted at the very idea.
"Jus'…jus' lemme, for a little bit, alrigh'?" Jack's words are slurred and he sounds a little desperate.
"No."
"I got grog…you wanna drink, you can 'ave one."
"No. That's the…my…a sister."
"Naaah. Nah, she ain't your sister. I know what's you're up to. You're tryna steal her away, all for yerself, she ain't in your league, mate. And her family are gonna be right pissed when they find the pair of you shacked up, ain't they?"
"No…" Killian starts to protest, but Jack has clearly warmed to his subject and cuts him off, getting louder as he does so.
"Nah, nah, nah. I can tell, see? 'Cos I ain't stupid. You don't even look alike. You don't even sound nothin' alike. You mighta got me ma fooled, but not me, mate. I reckon you've deserted outta the army or somethin', those boots give you away like nothin' else. So unless you want trouble, mate, then let me…you know. Jus' for a little while. I won't break nothin'. I just want to share her, like."
"I'm not…I'm not sharing Emma. She's mine." Killian says it vehemently, almost as though it's true. And for a moment it gives Emma a weird thrill, before she realises that no, actually that's not what she wants to hear at all.
"Now, bugger off and leave us both alone," Killian says, his voice now raised. It seems to do the trick with Jack, though.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, mate…I jus'…she's really, somethin', i'nt she?"
"Go to bed. Sleep it off. I've no doubt you'll regret all of this in the morning."
Emma hears some more mumbled replies from Jack in response, before his footsteps shuffle away. It's not until there's been complete silence for several moments that she hears Killian walk back across the crunchy straw to his side of the barn.
"He wanted to buy me," Emma says, and she's not sure if this is a question or just an observation. The whole incident has made her uncomfortable if she's honest, it wasn't just Jack's request that had done so, but Killian's response to it as well.
"Aye. He was…" Killian sits down on the straw and she hears him sigh. "Under the impression it was possible."
"But he asked you."
"What?" Killian sounds tired, and like he very much wishes to be done with any further conversation but Emma is wide awake and troubled and he's just plain out of luck.
"He asked you….you know. For me…to have me…" Just thinking about it makes her shudder in disgust. "That's not right because it was me, he wanted, and the only one who sells me is me!"
Emma realises that what she's said doesn't sound quite right, but it's too late. "You want to sell yourself?" Killian asks, and he sounds a little more awake now, but utterly confused.
"Well, no. No I don't. But I don't think…I just think you should have asked me to deal with him."
"I'm so sorry, for trying to help. Or just for trying to keep him away from you. I'll just send all the wandering rapists directly to you in future."
Killian's choice of words are a little sobering, but Emma's not defeated yet. "Well I would have been fine. I have a weapon." She sits up holding the short handled axe and, in the gloom of the barn, can just make out Killian leaning forward to peer at it.
"Is that the axe?"
"It is." Emma's inordinately proud of her foresight, especially as, for once, she was proven correct. "I thought it could be useful."
"Because…because of him?" Killian asks.
"Well, yes. Or anything else, really, that might be out here. There was that noise earlier, and I don't think that was a cat at all."
There's silence for a moment. "And…me?"
"I didn't know you wanted a weapon…but you could have used this, I suppose. If you'd needed it."
"No, I mean…" Killian pauses again, and she hears some shuffling around in the straw. "You thought you might need it, for me."
"No! I wouldn't…you wouldn't…that is..." Emma pauses and tries to collect her thoughts, unsure whether her outrage at the suggestion sounds false or not. "If you'd wanted to do…anything, then you could have, I suppose. And you haven't. So I trust you. But not Jack…he was…he made me uncomfortable from the start."
"But…I thought I did."
"Did what?"
"Make you uncomfortable. I know it's not easy for you, this is all very different. And I wish…it wasn't. But at the bears' cottage…when that one that liked you wanted to keep us as a pair. I saw your face…Emma. You were horrified."
Emma's spent so much of the day assuming that Killian is regretting being stuck with her, she hasn't really contemplated him thinking the same of her. And, granted, she would prefer that they not be stuck here at all, that she had never fallen off the boat, that she hadn't had to follow Eva out on deck, that she'd even just stayed on the same boat as Mama and Papa and right now was at home, asleep in her own bed.
But it didn't happen that way. And it could be worse, she supposes. "At least you know about woodpiles," she says, gently, but all she gets in response is a grunt of acknowledgement that could mean anything. The moonlight that's made its way through the gaps in the barn isn't bright enough to allow her to see Killian's face and she's a bit flummoxed.
"It just…when Teddy was so eager to pair us up…I suppose it reminded me. Of what will happen one day," she says in the end.
"What do you mean?"
"That…I will, have to be paired up with someone. Oh, it will be my choice…my parents won't exactly sell me off…" She pauses, realising she may have hit a sore spot but Killian doesn't react and she carries on. "But I'll have to find someone, from the limited choices there are. My prince definitely won't come, and I'll have to just…well they'd like it if I married Freddy, I think. Princess Abigail's son. But he's only 15 and the last time I was there he put frogs in my bed and spent three days calling me the frog princess."
"And what did you do?"
"There wasn't much I could do. I was a guest. Well, alright. I may have tripped him up when we were in the garden and he was standing far too close to that pile of manure the gardeners were spreading around. But other than that, I just had to live with it. And I'll have to live with one day choosing a husband, too. It's my duty. You understand that, don't you?"
"Aye. I do." She sees some movement that is probably Killian nodding. "It would be bad form to neglect your duty."
"Yes. But I won't be able to do anything unless I get home, in one piece. And you've been very…helpful, with that. So I trust you and I'm not…I'm not…horrified that you're here." It's not the best speech ever made, and Emma doubts it would send anyone out to die in her name, or any of the other noble sacrifices that monarchs usually require of their subjects, but she hopes it will persuade Killian that she's not completely disappointed with his company.
In fact, if she thinks about it, really the only good thing to come out of the whole day, other than perhaps finding out she understands bears, or the revelation of the apple, is that she finds Killian intriguing, and it's probably the only chance she'll ever have to spend time with a man who isn't sizing her up for marriage.
"We should sleep. We'll have to clear out quickly in the morning. Jack'll wake with a sore head, and perhaps an even sorer temper when he realises that he didn't get what he wanted."
"Yes. Right. Well I still…"
"And I'd like to prevent an axe murder," Killian says, quickly.
"Oh. Well, of course. Probably not the best thing to do."
"I'm sorry, though. That I didn't let you…deal with him earlier. Not…not, kill him…" Emma makes a tutting noise because, really, she wouldn't have hurt him unless he absolutely couldn't be reasoned with. "But I'm sorry I spoke…for you."
"That's…let's just forget it ever happened." Emma's voice sounds way too happy as she says that, but the whole thing is awkward and awkward just makes her morph into her mother. It makes her wonder, now, how her mother ever came to be that way in the first place.
They lie down again, and there's more rustling as they both try to get comfortable. "You can share, if you like," Emma says.
"What?"
"The blanket. The one I'm lying on. It's fairly wide. You could lie on that too…if you wanted." Emma isn't certain if it's just some residual guilt that prompts her to make the offer, and she waits for Killian to answer. He's obviously weighing up the pros and cons.
Perhaps he's still worried about her fascination with the axe.
"You won't mind?" he asks in the end.
"I coped with worse last night," she reminds him. That seems to settle the matter and she feels rather than sees him move closer, and then there's a shifting in the straw beneath her as Killian lays down on the other side of the blanket and covers himself in the coat again.
She had, perhaps, underestimated the size of the blanket because, although he is lying behind her, she's still acutely aware of just how close he is and she spends what seems like an age listening to the sound of him breathing, in and out, until it becomes apparent that he's fallen asleep and Emma is left to wonder just how many nights it will be until she is home again.
Thanks for reading!
