"So, when do you need me?" Killian asked, as he balled up the last of the packaging from his snacks and threw it into the nearest bin.

"Excuse me?"

"To sit with Henry. When do you need me?"

"Oh." Emma's mind had gone somewhere completely inappropriate at his words, but she honestly hadn't expected him to be serious about that offer.

"Weekends are tough for me, obviously. And if possible, afternoons are better than mornings, as the Gaffer won't appreciate me skipping out on training every few days. But if you really need me first thing in the morning, I can certainly make an exception. We also have Champions League group games coming up, so I'll be flying around Europe for those, mid-week. And we occasionally have mid-week league games too." He paused for a moment to draw a breath and then chuckled a little bitterly. "Wow. Hearing that back makes me sound like such a diva."

"It's fine," Emma assured him. "I get that you already have responsibilities in your life. My parents are the same. They try and spend as much time here with Henry as they can, but Mum's a teacher and Dad's a cop. So their schedules aren't as flexible as they wish they could be. Just uh… just having you make the offer means the world to me."

"You still have my number, right? You can always call when you need me. And our game this week is on Sunday, so I could come by Friday afternoon and let you get some stuff done?"

"That uh… that would be great. Henry would love to see you again."

"Then it's a date," he promised, pushing himself up to his feet. "I'm gonna go and order for the lad and my mam, did you want anything else?"

"I'm good. I'm just gonna run to the bathroom, though."

Killian nodded to show that he'd heard her, and Emma made her escape. She'd been visiting the hospital long enough to know where all of the bathrooms were now, so instead of heading for the ones directly opposite the coffee shop, she made the short walk down the corridor to the ones close to phlebotomy. They were hardly ever used, so were always better smelling than the alternative.

Once inside the small room, Emma locked the door behind herself and used the silence and privacy of the moment to draw in a few deep breaths. Ever since the entire team had shown up in Henry's room, things had seemed so surreal for her. She had never dreamed that anyone would bother reading her email, let alone act upon it. And yet here she was, having coffee with someone Henry swore was the best footballer in the world, while his mother sat with her son.

It was another moment to add to the long list of surreal ones that had happened, since Henry's diagnosis.

After using the facilities, she took a moment to freshen herself up. Emma wasn't stupid, she could see the bags under her eyes, barely concealed by her foundation. Her hair seemed to have lost all of its usual luster and volume, which was why she'd found herself scraping it back into a ponytail most mornings. And she knew she'd lost a lot of weight over the past few months too. Her clothes now hung off her in an unflattering way, but she didn't exactly have the time to go shopping for new ones.

Standing next to Killian Jones, who somehow managed to make an Addidas tracksuit look like designer wear, she was sure she looked even worse. But both his mother and the man himself had been far too kind to comment on it.

Sighing a little at her reflection she reached for the door once more and flicked the lock so that she could pull it open. Emma startled a little at the sight of the man leaning casually against the wall opposite, but smiled when he offered her a soft one of his own. She wasn't sure why Killian had taken such an interest in herself and Henry, but she genuinely appreciated all that he was doing for them.

"I saw you headed this way and figured I'd find a bathroom before I ended up completely lost," he explained, as he fell into step beside her while they made their way back up to Henry's ward.

"Yeah. The toilets down here are much nicer than the ones round by the café."

Killian screwed up his face in disgust at the mental image Emma was painting for him but didn't say anything. He could tell that her mind was somewhere else, and he didn't want to annoy her with small talk while she was lost in her thoughts. He'd wait for her to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of them.

"So, uh… who are you playing this weekend?" she eventually asked.

"City. It's the big Manchester derby. I'm surprised your lad hasn't said anything about it to you."

"Oh, he probably has. I tend to tune the football talk out after a while," she admitted reluctantly. The last thing Emma wanted to do was offend the guy who had been offering to help her. But she also didn't want to lie to him either.

"You should meet my brother. He does the same thing." Killian chuckled to show that there were no hard feelings, but his face hardened a little when Emma replied with, "Maybe one day." He suddenly found himself wanting to keep her and Henry as far away from his older brother as he could get them, and Killian wasn't entirely sure why. They weren't his in any sense of the word. And if Liam could provide another source of comfort to the two of them, then he shouldn't be the one to deny them that.

But he couldn't ignore the sour taste left in his mouth when he thought of his brother connecting with Emma, over their dislike of something he was so passionate about.

"Do you uh… do you think you'll watch the game now that you've met most of the team?"

"I doubt it. My dad usually comes over to watch the games with Henry, and with the two of them crowded around the tablet, there isn't really much space for me. I'll probably just come back down to Costa with my mum for a while."

Killian nodded his head in understanding, but the idea of Emma not getting to watch him play left him feeling a little disappointed. He knew he was good at what he did, and games like the Manchester derby gave him the perfect opportunity to show that off. He just wished that Emma Swan would be able to see it.

"Well, when Henry's back on his feet and out of that bed, we'll make sure you guys all get to see a few games together," he promised her.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I wish I could take credit for this, but it wasn't my idea," he assured her. "Gold's been talking with our investors about it. When Henry's recovered, he wants to give you guys access to one of our private lounges for at least a season."

Emma stopped walking for a moment as she turned to face the man at her side. She might not have been a big fan of the game, but she had booked enough tickets to know how much private VIP packages sold for.

"Gold wanted it to be a lifetime pass," Killian continued, not having realised that his companion was no longer at his side, but instead staring at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes. "The investors are a little reluctant to go that far, given how young Henry is. I think he's trying to compromise with like ten to fifteen years."

"Fif… fifteen years?" she croaked out.

Killian finally turned to look her way and startled a little at just how far behind she'd fallen. "Don't worry, Emma. It wouldn't cost the club much, and it'll be good publicity for them. But don't tell him I told you about it. Gold wants it to be a surprise for Henry." A worried look crossed Killian's face for a moment before it evened out once more. "I swear that man tortured people during the medieval times in a past life."

At the look of horror that crossed Emma's own features, Killian rushed to add, "Squats. He'll make me do squats. Hundreds of them. And he'll stand and watch to make sure I do them all."

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