A bit of a longer wait for this one - sometimes you kick writing's arse and sometimes it kicks yours! Got there in the end though and it is the longest chapter yet. Thank you so much for all the follows and favourites and reviews - most especially to rational who has left me the most amazing, detailed messages that I am so, so appreciative of. (and I made a new friend)

Amagicalship and Brooke-to-Broch work tirelessly as betas to make me look good and I love them for it. And have I mentioned Spartanguard and her graphics?

Chapter 10 : Baby look ahead, to better days and better ways

The dry mouth was the final straw, forcing Emma's eyes open enough to reach out for the water bottle she kept by her bedside. A careless investigation sent something - a book, perhaps? - crashing to the floor but unearthed no liquid to save her discomfort. Something felt off, unfamiliar, and she blinked her eyes trying to get her red light of the alarm clock said 7.45...

Not her alarm clock.

Not her bedroom.

Killian. Rum. She had asked him to take her home. She touched her fingers to her lips briefly as a flash of memory hit her. Oh God, she'd kissed him!

Her heart in her throat, Emma reached a tentative hand out towards the other side of the bed. His bed. Her fingers met no resistance, no warm body sharing the covers with her. The empty sheets were cool to the touch and she exhaled the breath she had been holding in relief. With everything else in tatters around her, she should have known that a man like Killian could be relied on to hold her dignity together, no matter how hard she had tried to throw herself at him.

If only she could remember how hard that was.

Before she thought any more about that, she would have to think about water. Sitting up slowly, she slid her legs out from under the covers and stretched. Her back ached - Killian may have been right about a drafty hallway and awkward position not being ideal - and she was not sure her eyes would ever be the same again. Her dress from last night was hardly appropriate day wear but it was all she had until she went home…

No. Not home. Not any more.

She could hear music. Rising, Emma looked around for something of Killian's to cover up the dress that felt too short and too tight now she was here in his apartment, unsure of exactly what she had said and done once the rum kicked in. One of his button down shirts was hanging over a chair and she slipped it on over her dress, rolling the sleeves and tying it loosely in front. She caught a trace of his cologne in the fabric and an image of a different life flickered in her brain. Maybe rum and heartbreak were only part of what had urged her lips towards his?

She wandered towards the living room, following the source of the gentle chords. Leaning against the archway, she watched as Killian strummed his guitar, lost in thought and completely unaware of her presence. The melody was soft and sweet, his fingers moving skillfully over the strings, coaxing out the notes that were filling the quiet morning. His hair was wild and dishevelled and the mental image of him raking his fingers through it was crystal clear in her mind. The thin fabric of his worn t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, emphasising the movement of his muscles as he played.

Despite the pain that was coursing below the surface, watching him in his element could not help but bring a smile to her face. He always seemed so content when surrounded by his music, so comfortable. Like it settled him and made things seem OK, even if for just a little while.

That sounded like a very attractive idea to her at that moment. Because right now nothing felt OK.

A long breath escaped her lips and he turned to see her standing there. He looked her up and down and shook his head when she went to apologise for borrowing his clothes.

"I'm sorry, love, did I wake you? I must confess, I had some trouble settling last night."

He went to put the guitar aside, but Emma put a hand out as if to stop him. "No, don't stop. It's beautiful. What is it?"

A flush of pink coloured his cheeks and he seemed to falter over his answer. "It's, ah, just something I was, um, messing around with. An experiment, if you will."

"It's yours?" Killian nodded self consciously, and despite feeling more hungover than she had in a very long time, Emma couldn't help but smile at his humility. For all the times she had seen his swagger and overconfidence, she knew this was the real Killian Jones, modest with just a hint of self-doubt.

"Play it for me?" she asked as she wandered towards the kitchen in search of the drink she so desperately needed. His eyes followed her every move as she filled a coffee mug she found on the counter with water and drank it without pause. There was a slight raise of an eyebrow as she downed a second and a then a third cup, but he said nothing and she refilled the mug yet again and joined him on the couch.

Pulling her knees up under her, she cradled the mug in her hands and looked expectantly at him.

"Thirsty, love?" As the words left his mouth, Emma saw the flash of uncertainty in his eyes, the question as to whether their natural banter was appropriate in this strange new world. God, she had missed this - the back and forth had come so freely to them and she craved reassurance that they could be there again after all that had happened.

"Stalling, love?" She echoed his tone, emphasising the consonants in that way of his and she was rewarded with a grin. "I have been making musical decisions for you for a long time, Jones, and I'm not letting you play any..."

The thought of all she had given up thanks to Neal's dishonesty stopped her mid sentence. Killian reached out to squeeze her leg, yet another sign of solidarity, of how much he understood her, and her breath hitched in a sob as the tears threatened to fall.

"Let it out if you have to, Swan." He leaned the guitar against the coffee table and moved closer to her on the couch, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She let her head sink down on to his shoulder, breathing long and hard in an attempt to stave off the tears. She didn't want to cry any more. This wasn't her; Emma Swan didn't fall to pieces, she punched back and got angry and kept her heart protected. Emma Swan relied on the only person who had never let her down - herself.

And Killian, the niggling voice inside her head reminded her. He hasn't let you down.

His arm was warm and solid around her, his fingers moving gently back and forth where they touched. Reassuring, with just a hint of something else she felt a long way from ready for, no matter what the tug low down in her belly was telling her. Safe in the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere, Emma let herself relax. If the tears came, they came and he would think no less of her. Knowing that was enough to calm the hitch in her throat and she wiped away the moisture from her eyes.

"I missed you, Killian."

She felt his lips in her hair as he kissed her temple softly. "And I, you, love. I'm so sorry you had to go through this. But you are one of the strongest people I have ever met and you will be OK."

The faith he had in her was almost too much. It would be too easy to fall into something here with him - to just sink into the comfortable circle of his arms and let him take away the hurt and the pain. He was constant in her life, the person who had always seen the best in her, had never let her down. A man who was content to be her friend if that was all she could give him, despite the feelings she could see so clearly now. How many times had she hurt him, unknowingly, talking about Neal and how in love she was, how happy they were? And yet he had never shied away from her, not until she pushed him.

Yes, it would be easy. But would it be fair? She was broken, and it wasn't his job to put her back together, no matter how willing he might be.

She was saved from considering the implications by a deep growl in her stomach - a reminder that rum, while satisfying in the moment, appeared to have done nothing for her nutritional needs. Killian snorted in amusement beside her.

"Apparently you are the hungriest person I know too, Swan," he said with a grin. "But it is now my turn to apologise. I was not expecting a house guest and my cupboards are bare, I'm afraid."

Emma could not remember ever being so grateful for a ridiculous interruption to her thoughts. A distraction from the confusing swirl of attraction and hurt and uncertainty that was competing with the after effects of alcohol. It was not the time for decisions, certainly not rash ones that stood a very real chance of destroying the best friendship she had ever had.

Uncurling her legs from under her, she placed the now empty mug on the table and shook her head at him. "Not much of a host, Jones."

"Indeed. But it is a situation I am more than happy to rectify. Why don't you avail yourself of the facilities while I organise some breakfast for us?"

That sounded perfect to Emma. With one addition.

"Coffee. Much coffee," she insisted, a hand on his arm to emphasise her point.

"Decaf, love?"

He was still laughing at the expression on her face as he slipped on a pair of worn flip flops and grabbed his keys and wallet.

The heat of the water running down over her aching muscles had been just what she needed. Never usually one for leisurely showers, today she let the spray wash over her aimlessly, leaning her head against the cool of the tiles and letting the tears fall as she went over and over the last few weeks in her mind.

Snippets of life with Neal came back to her, clues that Emma the bail bondsperson might have recognised as something being amiss. His eagerness to set up the 'vacation' account but not organising a joint access. The mailbox key she never received. Things that Emma the girlfriend had written off as inconsiderate, perhaps, but not sinister.

She had been so foolish. But she had to keep moving. Life wasn't going to stop because she had fallen in love with an asshole. And as much as cocooning herself here in Killian's apartment forever where she would be safe and cared for sounded appealing, it wasn't a realistic plan.

And she was nothing if not a realist.

Turning off the water, she wrapped herself in the towel Killian had left for her and took stock of the damage in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she poked gently at the puffy skin below as she grimaced at herself. It was not like she had anyone to impress, she supposed, pointedly ignoring the blue eyes and scruffy hair that appeared unbidden in her mind. She needed to get on to more practical matters before her imagination got away from her.

Along with the towel, Killian had left her a t-shirt and shorts to wear, so she slipped them on, cinching in the drawstring as tight as she could. Emma breathed deeply, but straight out of his dresser, there was no lingering scent of him and a part of her was disappointed.

Get it together, Swan. Practical, remember?

She pulled her phone out of her tote where it had been all but forgotten last night. Checking her bank statements seemed like a good place to start if she was being practical, but the battery warning indicator showed and her charger was, of course, back at the apartment. Typical. She remembered seeing Killian's iPad on the coffee table and was sure he wouldn't object to her borrowing it.

Her stomach growled again as she made her way to the living room, grabbed the tablet and flopped down on a corner of the couch. Killian had been gone a long time and she almost considered digging in his cabinets for instant coffee. Almost. Flipping open the iPad cover, she grinned at the photo of the band he used as a lock screen. She had taken it one evening at a gig and tweeted it - he must have pulled it from her timeline. He was lost in the music in the picture, a faraway smile on his face that she had seen so many times when he played.

She swiped the screen and entered his passcode - they had used the device so many times when planning set lists he had decided it was easier for her to have it. The silence in the apartment was starting to bother her, so she opened his music library and selected a playlist called My Songs. A Crowded House track filled the air and she smiled as she remembered choosing it for their set some months ago. Opening the web browser, she clicked through to her bank and scrolled through her accounts, trying to work out how much she had lost through her transfers to Neal. As she added the amounts mentally, she realised the track had changed to a guitar piece that sounded strangely familiar. She stopped and focused on the music, trying to establish where she had heard the haunting melody before.

Closing her eyes, she saw him on this couch, his hair wild from his own hands running through it, his guitar in hand and these same notes wafting through the apartment this very morning. This was it - his song that he had maneuvered his way out of playing for her, she realised. She leaned back and just drank it in - it was soft and flowing and she knew he had something really special here. The recording was basic, no band or mixing, but she could hear Killian's passion for music in every bar.

Practicality was calling, but she hit repeat before returning to her financial statements. She had made a fair estimate of where she stood when she heard the sound of Killian's keys in the door. A feeling of guilt settled on her - she had intruded on his private playlist without really thinking - and she quickly switched off the music all together. The apartment was once again silent, but Emma's mind was full of the lilting chords she had discovered.

"I'm back, love. Sorry for the delay." Killian tossed his keys and a pile of mail on the counter and hefted two large grocery bags beside them. Emma raised a quizzical eyebrow at them and then back at him. "Patience, Swan. I would hardly forget the lady's caffeine requirements now, would I?" He disappeared back up the small hall and reappeared with a take out tray and two jumbo sized coffees. He placed the tray on the counter next to the groceries and extracted one cup, moving immediately towards Emma's outstretched hand with a wink.

"Put your grabby hands away, Swan. I'll not keep you waiting. I dread to think what you would do to me if I kept you from your coffee."

If there had been tension in her muscles after exploring her financial situation, she felt some of it ebb away as he began to tease her. For all the confusion she felt right now, the one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted this man to be around, to be by her side as she navigated whatever shit Neal had dropped her in. She needed it, and him treating her as he always had - teasing and taunting - was a hopeful sign that he could give it to her. All she had to do was not break his heart in the process.

Taking a long sip from the cup, she let the caffeine hit wash over her. "I was just about to look for…" she shuddered deliberately, "...instant."

Killian snorted. "Luckily I arrived just in time to save you from that fate." He was busying himself in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and cabinets, stacking pots and pans on the counter. "And now I will save you from that growling stomach and the headache I imagine you have simultaneously."

Emma got up from the couch, coffee in hand, and made herself comfortable on a stool near the counter, watching him as he started to prepare their breakfast.

"That's a lot of protein there, Jones," she said, eyeing off the bacon, sausage and eggs that he had stacked by the cooktop.

"Best cure for a hangover, love, a bit of grease." He dropped some bacon in the pan and it was soon sizzling away as he chopped tomatoes and mushrooms. When that job was done, he looked thoughtfully across the counter at Emma, still cradling her coffee cup, as he monitored the meat. "Perhaps while I am cooking, we can try to work out some kind of plan? Talk things through?"

Emma sighed deeply, knowing he was right, that she had to make some decisions about her next move. She still had a lot of questions and no idea of how to get the answers. "I guess I will have to go back to the apartment today." Killian nodded, turning the bacon and tossing some sausage in alongside it.

"Probably a good idea. I'm more than happy to come with you, love, if you'd like the company?"

"I would," she answered quickly. The idea of stepping back into that apartment still filled her with dread, but having Killian alongside her would certainly make it easier to bear.

Killian had been right about the grease helping her hangover. Unfortunately no amount of bacon could stem the pain she felt when they approached Neal's - she refused to think of it as hers anymore - apartment building later that day.

Stepping out of the elevator, Emma felt the tension that had eased while Killian cooked her breakfast return with a vengeance. Her breath quickened as they walked towards the apartment door, and Killian squeezed her shoulder as if sensing her discomfort. She fumbled with her key, wondering for a moment if the landlord had changed the locks already with all her belongings still inside.

"Shit." She swore at the key as she rattled it back and forth. "Stupid fucking lock…"

Killian placed his hand over hers and smiled softly at her. "Allow me Swan, before one of the neighbours calls the constabulary."

Emma withdrew her hand and watched as he turned the lock on the first attempt, swinging the door wide open. She stood in the doorway, just looking in at the familiar surroundings that had felt like home just a day ago. And now she was struggling to even cross the threshold.

"All right, love?" Killian stood close behind her, his voice low and comforting in her ear. She nodded and forced herself to take the first step into the hall, averting her eyes from the photographs on the hall stand and Neal's coat draped over the chair. She had been able to think practically when she was a few degrees removed from the situation, safe and comfortable in Killian's apartment, but somehow here the emotions and hurt were overwhelming all over again. And the anger. She could feel that bubbling up again too.

She stood in the living room, surveying the remnants of the life she had thought she was going to have. And now she had only days to pack up and make a new life for herself. Again.

"Bastard." Her voice was harsh, her thoughts harsher. She would punch him in the face, so help her.

Killian appeared behind her, two mugs in his hands.

"Aye," Killian agreed. "That he is." He handed her a steaming cup and she looked curiously at him. "Tea, Swan. It seemed a bit early for rum."

"Is it?" she asked with a deep sigh. "Really?"

"I thought you might say that," he said, extracting a small bottle from his pocket and tipping a generous measure into both cups. "Found this in the kitchen. Strictly medicinal of course." Emma took a long sip, the hot liquid burning as it ran down her throat. Unable to make a decision about her next course of action, she dropped on to the couch, indicating for Killian to do the same.

They sat in silence, sipping from their tea at regular intervals. As much as Emma had dreaded coming here, she had hoped that being in this room might give her some idea of what to do next. Where to go next. But beyond a need to charge her phone, there was not much in the way of inspiration.

"Any thoughts, love?"

"Not many that don't involve inflicting bodily harm on Neal," she admitted and he snorted in agreement. "But I am going to have to pack up my stuff and find a new apartment I guess. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"I may have an idea about that…" he began but Emma interjected, shaking her head.

"I am not putting you on your couch for another night, Killian."

It almost seemed like a look of regret in his eyes. "Much appreciated, Swan, but you would be very welcome if it would make this whole situation easier on you." The temptation to throw caution to the wind and say yes to this suggestion was strong. His face was so earnest - she knew he was completely genuine in his offer, that nothing would be too much trouble to put her mind at ease.

It was very dangerous ground.

"However," he continued, shaking her from her thoughts. "My offering to sleep on the couch was not the plan I had in mind." Emma's eyes widened and she raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed hard, obviously realising what he had said and she grinned at his discomfort. Her reaction seemed to relax him and he laughed as a two small spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. He waggled a finger at her.

"Out of the gutter, Swan. I offer a roof over your head in your drunken state and all you can think about is having your way with me." The wink that accompanied this statement was ridiculously exaggerated and Emma threw her head back and laughed.

It felt good.

He was watching her closely, she noticed, the innuendo laden smirk that had been on his face transforming into something softer, more affectionate. There was a warmth in his blue eyes that was impossible to ignore, and the small tug of...something...was calling for her attention.

"It's good to see you laughing," he said softly, reaching up and tucking a stray curl of blonde hair behind her ear. His finger trailled along her cheek as he withdrew his hand and the spark of heat that Emma felt at his touch made her spring back.

She was flustered and breathed out deeply. "So what was your plan, Killian?" she asked, trying desperately to keep her voice level and calm as she changed the subject. He blinked once or twice, obviously affected himself, before answering.

"Mary Margaret and Dave have been discussing finding a roommate, at least in the short term. I believe they may have some plans afoot that will take Mary Margaret out of employment for a while. I wondered whether you might like to take the room until you find something more suitable?"

Emma considered this for a moment. She had met the couple many times and had always found them easy to be around, welcoming to a fault. In her current state, the combination of stress and time pressure was likely to make for hasty decisions and this seemed like an ideal solution.

"Would they have me, do you think?" she asked. "It sounds perfect, to be honest."

Killian looked slightly sheepish. "Confession time, love. I may have already inquired as to their willingness when the idea struck me this morning. They would be delighted to have you as soon as you like."

Relief rushed through Emma's body, a layer of pressure that had been weighing down on her lifting. She may still have a lot of unanswered questions but at least she wasn't going to be on the streets asking them.

Clearly unsure of the reason for her silence, Killian looked on anxiously, his fingers finding the spot behind his ear that she knew indicated he was uncomfortable before busying himself gathering the now empty mugs. When he stood to return them to the kitchen, she stood too and took them from his hands, placing them back on the coffee table. Her eyes met his and she stared into their depths for a moment, somehow not afraid of what she might see there. His lips curled upwards in a soft smile and she reached her hand to touch his cheek. His stubble was rough and scratchy beneath her fingertips and she saw him swallow hard yet again. She leaned up and touched her lips softly to his opposite cheek, as her thumb moved gently back and forth over his scruff.

"Thank you," she whispered, knowing her words were for so much more than just finding her a new home. She snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. She felt him tense as her body pressed against his, felt his hands twitch as he resisted, as he took a moment to compose himself. The thought that she was being unfair flittered across her mind, that his feelings were near to the surface but as his arms moved to encircle her waist and he held her close she couldn't bring herself to let him go.

Emma had no idea how long they stood there. She pulled away slowly, listening to his studied, even breathing as he opened his eyes and smiled softly at her.

"You are very welcome, Emma."

Those words sent a shiver of feeling down her spine. His voice was full of longing he could not disguise and when he used her name it was as if she was being drawn back to him. She had to resist, no matter how much her traitorous body was telling her not to. The hole in her world was too big to let him try and fill it.

For now.

She stepped back, collecting the mugs from where she had abandoned them and moved towards the kitchen. Her thoughts swirled as she rinsed the last remnants of tea and rum down the sink and she found herself humming softly in an attempt to calm them. The melody was fixed in her mind and as the notes filled the air she realised just what it was she was using to ease her mind.

So did Killian. He stepped into the kitchen, a quizzical look on his face as he recognised the tune.

"I'm sorry," she started. "I used your iPad and I heard it…" He held up a hand to stop her, his blue eyes soft and smiling.

"No harm done, Swan. I guess you bested me on that maneuver. Fair play to you."

There was silence as they stood looking awkwardly at each other. Both uncomfortable, they spoke at once.

"So Swan, I -"

"Killian, you should - " They both laughed, breaking the tension, much to Emma's relief.

"Ladies first," he said, with the hint of a bow.

"I'll be fine here tonight. I have to pack and see the landlord, I guess, but knowing I have somewhere to go is making this place seem less daunting. You should go home, sleep in your own bed. Maybe tomorrow after work we can go see Mary Margaret?"

"If you're sure? I'm happy to keep you company if you need it."

Need wasn't the word, she suspected, but it was not the time to want it quite so badly, so selfishly.

She shook her head at him. "I'm fine, truly. Go home, rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

As she spoke, she began to walk him towards the front door. If he wanted to protest, he thought better of it and he stepped into the hall without a word. Emma stood in the doorway as he turned back to face her.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath warm and tickling the sensitive skin. "I am only a phone call away, love, if you need me. Goodbye." His lips brushed her cheek, so softly she wondered if she had imagined it, but the lasting sensation of the touch assured her it was real. His tongue darted across his lips and she breathed out deeply as she said goodbye and closed the door softly behind him.

As the lock clicked in place, she slumped forward and leaned her head against the smooth wood of the door, her hand pressed onto the hard surface. For the first time, she felt a spark of hope among the hurt and confusion. The chance there was something else that could come from the ashes of this disaster, given time and patience.

And she smiled.