Summary: Jealousy rears its head as passion and past are discussed.
A/N:
Thank you to everyone reading! Glad you've made it this far :)
T minus 7 chapters until mission launch...
And credit to English philosopher Bernard Williams when Killian quotes him.
Reviewers Jennifer & Alexa: Thank you for reaching out! Ever since I saw S4E4 and that shot of Killian passed out on the picnic table bench with his empty flask, my heart just went out to him (not like it hadn't already ha). As Liam said in S5E15 'Killian's been fighting darkness his entire life' and I wanted Emma to be there for him this time.
Reviewer Guest: Thank you for your comments and speculations! Your enthusiasm is encouraging!
Her car door slammed shut behind her as she turned for the Launch Control Center – LCC. Another unremarkable building in-of-itself, but like every other building at KSC, it was devoid of first-floor windows. Too risky for spies to peek in through the windows, and no one wanted the Russians getting an inside look at any of the KSC facilities, let alone the one where every mission launch originated.
The midday sun painted the gray building in bright, harsh lines that made her squint as she approached. The obscenely tall Vertical Assembly Building – VAB – would cast an imposing shadow over the building's facade later in the day but she wouldn't be in this area of KSC that long. Director Midas needed the upgrade status reports within the next hour and she needed to run every respective department manager down to get them.
She cast a quick glance at the activity humming around her. Everything out here was in full-scale launch preparation mode with T minus two months to go. Engineers in hardhats walked to and fro; forklifts buzzed around with varying payloads. Even the crawler steadily crept down the crawlerway, approaching the buildings at its nearly invisible speed of 2 miles per hours. The scale of everything in this part of KSC never failed to make her smile with impressed wonderment. The VAB housed preparation of the behemoth Saturn V rocket, complete with umbilical tower, and it still amazed her how the whole assembly fit on the crawler for transport.
Such true, technological wonders of the modern age.
And, somehow, she had a front-row seat. For never having much of a place in this world, here she was - a cog in the wheel of this big machine, doing her part to see to the successful launch of each mission. Granted, it was a small part – but surely it counted for something.
"Have you ever seen anything so big before?" Killian's melodic voice caught her by surprise as she stopped on the sidewalk, still staring out at the crawler.
Slowly, she turned to look at him, lips quirking in a small smile. This past week had seen him much improved from his mood last Saturday. Whatever weight fell on his shoulders had lifted – or been purposefully buried – and his cocky competence returned in full-force, just as focused and unfettered as when he arrived at KSC. All traces of his renegade, punk rock look had disappeared, replaced with his neatly combed hair and respectable shirt and tie. She couldn't deny the hint of disappointment about it – the longer she lingered over the memory of him that morning, that other look proved startlingly appealing. Not that she spent much time thinking about him, no. But the dark eyeliner made his bright blue eyes pop – despite the pained, bloodshot exhaustion – and the tease of skin bared by his shirt beneath the leather had haunted her dreams more than she dared to admit.
But no matter how he looked now or then, she couldn't let his comment stand. "Yes, I have seen something that big before," she watched his brow raise, intrigued, "during the last three missions."
His smile widened with approval. "Even you remind me that I'm still the rookie on the block."
"You shouldn't worry. We'll make a twentieth century astronaut out of you yet." She looked out over the crawlerway, unable to hold back a small grin. "It doesn't get old. Seeing all this. It's continually…an incredible achievement."
"Aye, I would hope so," his words carried a reverent tone, "pushing the reaches of humankind's grasp on the universe. Pushing physical boundaries and limits that were only dreams when your President Kennedy spoke of them nearly ten years ago - and the men of Apollo 1 have been buried for less than that – but here we are, seven lunar landings accomplished with an eighth on the horizon." He exhaled gently. "'Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit'. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, but no less true."
Her brow furrowed as she turned back to him. Was that really how he felt? There was passion in his voice, and it certainly sounded genuine. But how on earth did that fit with what he called himself that Saturday morning? It shouldn't make her want to pry him open and understand. To know every facet of Killian Jones and find…solace? Comfort? But goodness, she shouldn't. She should think about Walsh and only keep the basic pleasantries with this man here…but the thought made her heart ache.
At length, she offered a small smile. "And here, I thought you just wanted the fame and glory. Or was that the 'heroic fool' talking?"
Neither one of them had spoken about that morning since she'd left his place. The past week hadn't afforded them any moments away from listening ears until now, but no embarrassment or regret colored his face. His face fell with resigned recognition, his eyes swimming with fond gratitude and other sentiments that she didn't want to linger on. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he ducked his head, right hand raising to absently brush his earlobe – a nervous tell if she'd ever seen one. It made her instantly think back to the earring.
His hand fell back to his side. "I cannot thank you enough for all that you did on Saturday. It...means more to me than you know."
"Will you tell me what happened?" Her gaze met the guarded, hesitant set of his face. "I just...I want to still help. Something like that can't happen again, and clearly, if it upset you so much that you drank yourself into oblivion without regard for your location, then it shouldn't be a burden you bear alone."
A dark memory haunted him as he worked a hard swallow. "You...you can't save me, Swan."
His choice of words struck her, concern softening her face. "Will you let me decide that for myself?"
He sighed, obviously considering his words. "An old... friend came to town Friday night. And he said some things about my family that I didn't much appreciate," he licked his lips, looking unsure if he should continue, "and it brought me low – as you saw."
The urge to reach out to him gnawed at her but she held herself still. "That may be a version of the truth, but it's not the truth."
"It's the only truth I can give."
She wanted to corner him, to contradict him, to drag it from him. But she recognized the armor he wore all too well. Perhaps later she could push him, but not now - not on the sidewalk outside the LCC in the midday heat. "I'm not...trying to make it hurt worse, Killian. Just, everything you said now took me by surprise. Didn't fit with what you said that morning."
"Aye, well…I wasn't quite myself that morning."
She knew that wasn't entirely it. Clearly, there was a dark memory or two conflicting with whatever heroic, golden image the prestige of being an astronaut demanded. She didn't even know how to go about helping him reconcile the two, but she did understand a thing or two about living with the weight of your past.
Maybe it was time to shift the topic. "What about your family – will they be here for the launch?"
He gave a sharp shake of his head. "No. We, uh…aren't really on speaking terms. And honestly, that makes it easier. If there's no one to miss you, that makes it easier to do the things that the job entails."
He wasn't close with his family but he still cared enough to lose himself to a drunken stupor over them? She hummed sadly. "You mean like strapping yourself to a rocket for a trip to a destination that can't support human life?"
A sad, snorting laugh left him. "Exactly that, love."
Again, her arms itched to reach out to him. To wind around and hold him. Because she understood all too well how it felt to be so overlooked by everyone who might matter. She sighed, squinting out over the bright surroundings. "Well, you've still got two months left until launch. And you're quite the rage of the typing pool right now. Who knows…maybe you'll find someone special who will miss you."
He huffed another chortle, looking at her from under his thick lashes and dark brows. "Oh, yes. I'm very much aware how many of them wish to make it with a devilishly handsome astronaut."
Her face pinched, bemused. "Is that so, hm?"
"Of course," his face lit with that familiar cheeky smirk that she hadn't realized until this moment she actually missed, "I am devilishly handsome."
She just resisted an eye-roll, feeling her traitorous mouth curl in a smile, unable to be truly irritated. It was nice to see him return to that cavalier attitude and…honestly, he wasn't wrong. He exuded an undeniable appeal and she wasn't blind. But he was so much more than that. Her heart swelled with overwhelming affection, wanting so strongly that it frightened her. No man had ever been so effective at getting under her armor, but that's exactly what he had done.
He took a step closer and her head tilted back, swept up in the sea of his eyes. "They may be hoping to win my affections, but honestly, all their efforts are in vain. Because I...Emma, would you have dinner wit-"
"Emma! What a surprise!" Walsh's voice doused over her like a bucket of cold water. Coupled with the shock of Killian asking her to dinner, it was all she could do to stare back, wide-eyed.
The PR man walked up towards them, his smile full of polite greeting as he looked between her and Killian.
She struggled to swallow, to find her voice. "Walsh…hi. What-what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." He looked to Killian with a flash of suspicion before stepping up to Emma's side. "I'm here to review the launch controller's speech." He leaned in, pecking her cheek before she could think.
Her face instantly heated, a sick feeling roiling in her gut. They had never displayed such obvious affection in their professional environment before, so why did he start now? And right on the heels of Killian's dinner invitation? Goodness, she might just lose her lunch. She tried to keep her smile in place but felt it falter. "And I'm, uh…I'm here for the upgrade status reports. Headed that way…actually." Her eyes landed on Killian, his mouth drawn in and expression guarded, wary.
All at once she wanted to plead with him, to convince him that it wasn't…that she didn't…. That's when the warm weight of Walsh's arm wrapped around her waist, tucking her into his side.
"Well, then, let's not keep everyone waiting." Walsh looked to Killian with a blank look. "If you'll excuse us, please, Captain Jones? We have work to do."
"If you'll pardon me, mate, but the lady doesn't look entirely comfortable." Killian's voice held a dark note of concern.
"Well, mate ," Walsh's tone was strongly mocking, "considering that she's my soon-to-be fiancee, that concern is between her and me."
She gasped, struggling for air and blinking rapidly as Walsh's words echoed in her mind. Soon-to-be fiancee. Her stomach knotted tighter as she shifted from Walsh's grasp, feeling his hold stiffen. This...this felt so wrong.
She glanced up at Killian, trying to force a smile, trying to assure him that she was alright. He didn't look the slightest bit convinced, but she kept trying. "It's alright, captain. Though, uh, thank you for your concern. I...we really should be going." She knew her smile was awkward and stilted.
The unyielding look on Killian's face told her that he knew it, too. "Aye, well…," he stepped aside with a sharp look, gesturing them forward, "please don't let me keep you."
Walsh tugged her into step beside him as Killian walked away, out towards the parking lot. She couldn't believe what just happened. She shot Walsh a tight look. "What the hell was that about?"
"Language, Emma, please. No call to be so unladylike."
"Unladylike? After you treated me like I was nothing better than your prized trophy?" She shrugged free of his hold, straightening her blouse. "Your jealousy couldn't have been more obvious."
"I wasn't trying to hide it." No hint of shame colored Walsh's face or his words. "I didn't like how he looked at you - my soon-to-be-fiancee. He has no-"
"Please don't call me that. I haven't given you an answer yet, and I could still say no."
His stride faltered, turning to her with a shocked look. "Why...why would you? Just think of the life we could have together." His mouth curled in a smile. "Of the family that we could have - you know my job is more than adequate for a comfortable life. You'd want for nothing as Mrs. Walsh Morgan. Would you really throw away the last eight months for…for what, exactly?"
"I don't know. Nothing, right now."
He shook his head, smiling down at her with a patronizing air. "I know this isn't you, Emma. You're just...stressed from the day, and confused. I've heard the stories - that man has a dastardly charm and he employs it like a weapon."
"Like a weapon?"
"Of course, don't you understand? Even you can't see when he dazzles and blinds you with it." He took another step closer, eyes pleading with her. "That's why I don't like him. That's why I want him to know that you're mine, and that's why I don't want you around him anymore than professionally necessary."
"You have no call to be so cruel. How can you even suggest that I…," she shook her head, jaw tensing with frustration, "I am perfectly capable of controlling myself - I don't just lose my head over a handsome smile and a cheeky line." She bristled, forcing a hard swallow. "How can you think so little of me?"
"Because I saw you just now, too. And the look on your face…," he bit his lip, voice catching with hurt frustration, "you haven't ever looked at me like that."
She swallowed hard, trying to figure out exactly what to say. This wasn't what she needed this afternoon. "I...it wasn't intentional. It didn't mean anything." Should she apologize? Did she want to?
"I don't want to see you look at him - or another man - like that ever again. Understood?"
She blinked up at him. "I don't know if I can promise that..." The turn of this conversation baffled her. What happened to the Walsh who proposed to her? The one who promised to wait for her and respect her decisions?
"Then, at least promise that you'll think of me when Captain Jones tries to turn your head, and let that guide you."
Offense reared its head. "That's presumptuous of you."
"Presumptuous? I'm only the man who's waiting on your response to my proposal. I've offered you the rest of my life - I think I have the right to be presumptuous!"
She blinked hard, drawing a deep breath - glancing around to remember where they were, what they were supposed to be doing. "I can't...Walsh, we can't do this here. We...we have jobs to do."
"Then, have dinner with me tonight. We can discuss it more, and you can give me an answer." His tone left no room for disagreement. "You need to decide, Emma. We can't continue this way without an answer." He flashed an uncertain smile, exhaling a deep breath. "I'll pick you up at seven." Without a backwards glance, he turned from her and continued towards the LCC, leaving her to stand there.
Her mind reeled. How had everything managed to go so sideways so quickly? How was she possibly going to unravel everything? A welling, trembling panic rose in her chest and she struggled to reign it in with a few deep breaths.
This shouldn't be important right now. She had a job to do. And she needed to do it.
Job. Work. Then, she could figure out the rest of her life.