Killian remains sitting there on the barstool, absolutely stunned, staring into his rum for a good measure of time. He has half a mind to chase after Emma, but to what end he hasn't a clue. All he knows is that she was crying and he aches to hold her and wipe away the tears. What a no good traitor his heart is.
She says she came here to help, and as angry as he is with her for lying and manipulating him, her words ring true. Bloody insufferable woman meant it, the pleading in her voice still echoing in his ears, lessening the anger he feels even as he desperately tries to maintain it.
His anger is easily fed by his irritation, because she knows about the heist and the FBI are going to raid Gold's mansion tonight. Blast! It's all gone downhill so quickly, he thinks as he slams his glass down on the counter. He's not sure how she found out about their plans, but if Whale or Jefferson get wind of it, things will be bad for him and for Emma. On the other hand, if he doesn't tell the boys what he knows, he could be allowing them to head straight into a trap. Does he really want to carry around more guilt than he already feels?
Running his palm over his face and tugging at his hair in frustration, he tries to gather his wits, despite the emotional turmoil that is currently splitting his heart in two. If he joins the boys in the heist, he'll be risking capture and prosecution - possibly even his life - but, he may be able to finally nail Gold for Milah's murder. If he bails out on the heist, he's still possibly risking his life, betraying his friends, and giving up on his chance for revenge, but he would be doing the right thing in the eyes of the law (and in another set of jade green ones, too).
He sees Emma's face in his mind - "Don't go to Gold's place tonight, Killian. Promise me you won't go." - her eyes welling up in tears. He also remembers his brother's words - "Do what's best for someone else for once, even if you have to give up something you want for yourself, even if it means letting go of the past." But then he sees Milah's face in his mind, her blue eyes sincere as she strokes his cheek and tells him, "I love you," and his heart aches in his chest.
Sighing resignedly, he raises his glass to his lips and drains the rum in one single swallow, allowing it to burn a searing pathway down his throat.
His choice is clear.
Emma rushes from the bar, the world around her a bright jumbled mess as tears blur her vision. Her throat feels raw and tight and she can hardly breathe as she pushes her way past townspeople and tourists on the street, unsure where she's headed, only that she needs relief from this crushing torment.
Finally, she comes to the end of a block and sees the ocean in the distance, greenspace the only thing separating her from the bluffs. Breaking into a sprint, she runs the rest of the way, wiping tears from her eyes until she makes it to the metal barrier flanking the cliffside. Clutching it with unsteady hands, she attempts to breathe, the cool air blowing off the ocean and straight into her face, lifting her hair from her shoulders.
Her heart is beating erratically, and she stares down into the froth, the roar of the waves filling her ears hypnotically. It's only when she's calmed down a bit that she realizes where she is - the same exact spot she started in all those weeks ago, when she first laid eyes on Killian Jones in the water. It seems hard to believe that was only last month, when so much has happened, so much has changed. She remembers standing here on the bluff and looking at the surfers through David's binoculars as if they were all identical little blobs. And now that one particular blob she had set her sights on - Jones, she remembers smirking at the name - he's...well, he's...Oh, God, she's in love with him.
An extra loud wave crashes against the rocks just as the realization hits her square in the chest, and she bends forward, leaning over the railing for support. Idiot, she chastises herself. She had stood here and promised David she would be strong, keep her walls up, and then she went and fell in love with her mark. What a mess.
Despite every attempt to remain professional, Killian Jones worked his way into her heart, and there's not a damn thing she can do about it. Burying her head in her hands, she closes her eyes and just listens to the surf, attempting to soothe herself.
Damn, all it makes her think about is surfing. It's been days since she's been out on the water, and the itch to get up on her board and feel the power of the ocean is fierce. Another piece of baggage she picked up unintentionally from this operation.
Sighing in exasperation, she stands upright and scans the area. No pirates anywhere, and certainly no Killian. She wonders if he'll ever forgive her for what she's done, but she doubts it. She probably wouldn't forgive him very easily if the situation were reversed. With one last wistful glance at the water, she pulls herself away from the fence. She's got a job to do, emotions or not.
Biting her lip, she reflects on the huge gamble she took this morning, and her gut churns as she wonders what the outcome will be. She trusts Killian, she truly does, but the loyalty he has for his crew is strong and if he tells them the FBI are going to be at Gold's tonight, the boys will bail and they'll be right back where they were before her operation. At least now they know for sure who their suspects are, but if Regina finds out what she's done, she's going to kill her. And then fire her.
Emma is betting on two things - the arrogance of the pirates, and the nobility of Killian Jones. She knows she might be wrong about both, but she's never wanted more to be right in her entire life.
The rest of the day passes agonizingly slow, and Emma hardly eats, consumed with nerves. As the minute hand on the clock ticks closer and closer to the designated meet time, she feels more and more like she just might throw up, constantly checking her phone to see if Killian has had a change of heart. He hasn't. The thought of calling him to beg him again not to go crosses her mind repeatedly, but she has to remind herself that she's said her piece and Emma Swan doesn't beg.
Arriving at headquarters, she steels herself when David approaches her, regarding her cautiously and asking, "Hey partner, are you alright?"
"Yeah, just nerves I guess." Her mouth closes in a hard line.
David squeezes her around her shoulders. "Don't worry, it will all be over soon."
That's maybe the worst part. Just when she's finally found someone again, someone who she could see herself being in a real, deep relationship with, she is going to have to say goodbye. And it aches, just as it ached every other time in her life she had to say that word, but right now it's real and raw and that new tender bud of lo- No. No, she won't say it, never again. It's time to put those feelings to bed for good. There will be no happily ever after for her, not this time, and maybe not ever. It was a truth she already knew too well, and it's time to accept it once again.
Still, her hands shake as she loads the clip into her gun and drops it into her holster, remaining quiet in a way that will eventually get David's attention. Fortunately, Regina is too busy to notice Emma's sullenness. Her boss has managed to delay notifying Gold of their warrant until the last possible minute, something made easier by the fact that he's out of the country, but it assures that he won't have the opportunity to interfere. Emma can tell Regina's feeling confident by the way she walks into the room of agents, shoulders back and head held high.
She addresses the capture group in a stern voice. "Alright, listen up people. These pirates are responsible for over 20 art heists and have managed to squeeze through the cracks like the slippery little rats that they are." Regina clutches her fist in the air, shaking it as her words bellow across the room. "It's about damn time for justice to be served, and we're going to be the ones to serve it. The trap has been set, all we need to do now is lie in wait and then-" she slaps her hands together loudly, and Emma watches with amusement as several of the younger agents gasp in surprise. Regina always has had a flair for the dramatic.
She scans the room, making eye contact with everyone in a way that would discourage even the most plucky subordinate from speaking up. "You go out there and bring me back those criminals, or so help me God…" she trails off, shaking her head back and forth and making Emma gulp, knowing that she could be responsible for ruining the entire raid.
There's a collective head nod, and a few "yes ma'am"s and then the group disperses. Emma attempts to slink out the door with them when she hears Regina beckoning her.
"Miss Swan?"
She turns around, walking slowly towards her boss, trying not to fidget with her hands.
"Yes, Regina?"
"Be careful, alright? They know who you are, and chances are they'll be out for blood. Don't attempt to make contact with any of them until they're in handcuffs, not even Jones." Regina looks her straight in the eyes, and Emma fights the urge to swallow guiltily.
Instead, she nods, saying, "Understood," and gives her a terse smile. She turns and walks towards the exit.
"Oh and Emma?"
Emma turns back and finds her boss regarding her with her usual detached-yet-calculating demeanor.
"Yes?"
"Nice work." She says it matter-of-factly.
Emma smiles, but the success is bittersweet. If Regina knew everything, she might not be so quick to offer praise. The only way she can redeem herself now is to do everything in her power to bring the boys in, even if it means arresting Killian. She pats the doorframe as she and Regina share a moment of mutual respect, then she walks away hastily, more anxious than ever.
She finds David in the hallway, and she's struck with the sudden urge to tell him everything, even though she knows that would only make things worse.
"It's time. Let's do this!" David says energetically. Emma tries to muster up a smile, restrapping her bullet proof vest.
"Fall out!" she commands as she walks through the group, trying to maintain her composure as all eyes follow her lead.
The ride to Gold's estate goes by quickly, the roadside passing in a daze, and Emma is glad she's not driving. They take two black SUVs, trying to remain as low profile as possible. The cars will be parked outside the estate behind some foliage, and then they'll make their way on foot to the line of eucalyptus trees that mark the perimeter of the gardens where they'll take cover and wait.
David goes over tactical details as they drive, and Emma makes sure to nod and make the appropriate responses when necessary, but the truth is she hardly hears what he's saying. She feel completely numb, dead to the world. Fortunately, she's already memorized all the details of the mission anyway, storing them away in her brain like building directions that she has zero attachment to, when that couldn't be farther from the truth.
As they're exiting the vehicle, Emma glances up at the sky to see that gray clouds have obscured it, covering everything in a darkened haze. It's fitting, she thinks, giving the evening a sense of foreboding and uncertainty. Tugging at her bulletproof vest, she longs to get this whole thing over with.
They creep through the woods until they reach the edge of the estate's gardens, and Emma peers with curiosity at the elegant mansion before her. It looks out of place in the sunny Southern California landscape - more like something you would see in ancient Europe or in a fairytale book, ominous gargoyles carved out of dark grey stone capping the corners of the roof. The large windows are dark, no doubt obscured by heavy curtains.
Emma takes out her binoculars and scans the perimeter, looking for any sign of movement, but the house is still. Now all they can do is wait.
David nudges her arm, and when she looks down she sees that he's attempting to hand her a protein bar.
"Here. Mary Margaret insisted I bring this for you." He gives her that knowing, fatherly smile.
Emma sighs, taking the bar from him and opening the wrapper. "Does she worry? You know, when you have to do takedowns?"
David slants his head to the side thoughtfully. "She does, but she also has faith in me, and that's about all anybody can ask for, right?"
She nods in agreement, taking a bite of the bar to save herself from having to answer. It tastes like dust in her mouth, but she forces herself to chew and swallow, knowing she needs to keep her energy up and she certainly hasn't consumed many calories today. Having faith in someone...now there's a concept.
The daylight starts to wane, and the crew settles in, ready to spring into action the moment they get the signal. Two agents have skirted around the perimeter to the front of the house where they are keeping watch on the main door.
Emma knows the pirates are good - they've managed to get away with too many heists not to be - but nothing prepares her for what happens next. She's not sure what she was expecting, really, for them to come barging in the front door, guns blazing? They live their lives on the edge, and that's precisely what she should have been anticipating from the start.
The helicopter appears out of nowhere, and Emma's mouth drops open in shock. What the hell?
The entire crew watches engrossed as men start dropping down on ziplines like ninjas, dressed all in black. She counts as they fall - one, two, three, four. Goddammit Jones!
Her mouth is still hanging open when she hears David's words make their way through the fog in her brain. "Emma? It's on your call." He's standing tensely beside her, all wound up.
"Right." She turns and addresses the group, listening as the whirring of the helicopter grows more and more distant. "Let's move in, just like we planned it."
The bright yellow "FBI" printed on her vest feels like it might as well read "TRAITOR" instead. She knows she's not really one of the pirates, but still, she's developed a kinship with them that is hard to deny, especially with one man in particular who she dreads confronting in that house.
Clamping down hard on the swell of emotions threatening to overtake her stomach, she pairs off with David and makes her way to the back door of the house. He covers her while she gets the door open, counting on the fact that the boys have already disabled the alarm system.
Her heart is about to beat out of her chest, but she manages to get them inside, moving as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting to tip the boys off to their presence. There's just enough light filtering in through the curtains that she doesn't need to use her flashlight, but she keeps her gun out in front of her, gripping it tightly as they scan each room, nodding to one another silently as they clear them one by one.
As they pass through the expansive house, her throat constricts painfully, fully prepared for the next moment to be the one where she turns a corner and comes face to face with one of the boys, caught red handed. The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention where her ponytail has been pulled up to expose them, and she can feel sweat forming between her shoulder blades.
After carefully making their way through the entire bottom floor, she hears a soft thud coming from upstairs, and she and David lock eyes, silently communicating. They creep up the stairs, hugging the wall as they go.
When they get to the top, Emma sees a flash of light at the end of the hallway, even though the noises seem to be coming from the opposite end. She nods towards the right and points towards David and then to the left, indicating to him that they should split up, and he purses his lips before he gives her a nod of assent.
Nothing but the sound of her heart thudding loudly in her ears accompanies her down the hallway, as she edges closer to the open doorway. She already knows what she'll find when she gets there, and a mixture of panic and anger adds to the storm of emotions raging inside of her. A small glimpse of the room from afar inspired her to believe that's it's an office, and she only knows one man who would be more interested in that room than anyone else.
She allows herself one moment to suck in a harsh breath, her back pressed up against the wall, and then she's inside the doorframe as quick as lightning, her gun pointing straight ahead of her, aimed to kill.
"Swan!"
She takes in his surprise, coupled with uncertainty, the blue of his eyes flashing brightly even in the darkness. He's dressed all in black, and her heart sinks as she notices the computer booted up on the desk.
"I thought I told you not to be here, Jones," she says through clenched teeth.
He's raised his hands in the air, but he takes a step closer, speaking in a clear voice.
"I'm not here with them, Swan. You have to believe me. I came here to help you!" he pleads.
"You're lying!" Emma hisses, but she can't honestly tell, her lie detector thrown off in the heat of the moment and the weight of all her emotions. She's angry and hurt and scared, her chest heaving as she shifts closer.
Killian looks towards the windows. "Listen, you may not believe me, love, but I'm telling you the truth, and if you don't follow me right now, the boys will get away for certain."
Emma regards him carefully, from the fact that he's unarmed and surrendering to the worried look on his face. Is it possible he's telling her the truth? She keeps her gun trained on him while she considers it.
"You're giving up your revenge, just like that?"
He nods softly. "Aye. Does that surprise you?" A glimmer of hope fills his eyes.
"Well, you are a pirate." She tilts her head at him.
He begins to lower his hands slowly, and she does the same with her gun, albeit a bit more cautiously.
"Try something new, darling, it's called trust."
Emma rolls her eyes. He's dressed all in black and inside the mansion where the heist is taking place, and he's asking her to trust him?
"Alright, Jones, I'll follow you, but if you're playing me..." she warns him, keeping a tight grip on her gun.
"I can assure you I'm not. We're wasting precious time." He turns and walks over towards an arched doorway, beckoning to her. "Come, follow me."
This is either the best turn of events she could have hoped for or the stupidest thing she's ever done, but she clings to the relief she feels at not having to put handcuffs on Killian - at least not yet.
Through the archway, they find themselves in a two-story library, a curved metal staircase leading up to the second floor. For a moment, Emma is awed by all the books, but then she sees Killian stop in front of a bookcase curiously. After scanning the titles, he pulls down on a large brown spine and then she hears it - the sound of a secret door opening.
"Come on, lass. We're not far behind," he tells her as he enters the doorway, flicking on his flashlight and glancing behind him to see if she'll follow.
Emma is impressed, but she can't completely ignore protocol (or her overbearing partner), so she lifts her comm to her mouth and presses the button.
"David, it's me. Look, I'm here with Jones and he's...he's helping me." She stops and makes eye contact with him, and he nods reassuringly. "There's a secret door in the library at the end of the hall, and we're going after the pirates."
She hears David's exclamation on the other end. "Emma, you better know what you're doing. It's clear on this side, no one's here."
"Where does it let out?" she directs her question at Killian.
"On the South lawn, there's a small hill that's obscured by an overgrowth of rhododendrons." He points in the direction.
"Did you hear that David? We need the rest of the team to meet us down there."
He pauses a moment on the other end, and she knows David is probably weighing his options before she finally hears him sigh relentingly. "OK, I'll tell them. I'm on my way over Emma, I'll be right behind you."
"We'll leave the door open, but we have to get moving." She rushes over and crouches inside the doorway behind Killian.
"Go! Don't let them get away," David instructs, and she signals off before putting her comm away and pulling out her flashlight.
There are a lot of stairs and the passageway is dark and narrow, but they fly down them in haste, the scent of Killian both familiar and comforting in the close quarters. Emma feels a bit like she's making her way through the darkness both actually and symbolically. Killian could be taking her anywhere for all she knows, he could be leading her straight into a trap, but somehow she feels deep in her gut that he's doing what he said he was and she's grateful for his help. She can't say why she trusts him exactly, when every shred of evidence is telling her not to, but she does and it's a testament to the relationship that they've built with one another.
Finally, there's a light at the end of the tunnel and Emma knows they're close, she can feel it. As they rush out of the passageway, she raises her gun in the air and shouts, "FBI! Freeze!" taking in the scene before her.
Locksley and Whale are standing together, each holding a black case that likely houses the stolen paintings. When they see her and Killian rushing towards them, they hand the cases off to Jefferson, who's attempting to load a third into the back of a van.
"You sonofabitch!" she hears Whale exclaim as his eyes widen at Killian.
"Sorry, boys, but it's time for your reckoning. Might I suggest you go quietly?" Emma smirks at Killian's cheekiness even as she prepares herself for the fight she knows is coming. These boys don't know the meaning of "quiet."
Locksley reaches Killian first, and he ducks when the thief tries for a blow to the head. A menacing left hook and a swift kick to the ribs has Robin clutching his side in pain, and then Killian throws him to the ground and presses his knee into his shoulder blades, immobilizing him as he makes a grab for his wrists, holding them tightly behind his back.
Meanwhile, Whale comes at Emma and she blocks his advances the way she's practiced in her martial arts classes, but he manages to disarm her, the gun falling into the grass. They go hand to hand, and Emma grunts as she blocks and attacks, going back and forth. Whale tries for a punch before she delivers a swift kick to the head that knocks him to the ground with a loud thump.
Tossing a pair of cuffs to Killian so he can put them on Robin, she pulls Whale's hands behind his back, securing them.
"Not cool, Swan, not cool," he groans, and for a moment Emma smiles, looking up at Killian and marveling at the team they make as he catches her eye, before his eyes widen and his look turns to panic.
"Emma!" he calls, and she looks up to see that Jefferson has abandoned the paintings and is holding up a gun in the air, aimed straight at her.
"You little bitch, I knew you'd be a problem," he sneers as he gets closer.
Emma dives for her weapon, and just as she rolls over on the grass she hears shots fired, the sound like a thunderclap in her ears. Immediately, she fires her weapon, hitting Jefferson in the chest, once and then twice. He jerks at the impact before falling inelegantly and landing in a heap. It's all over so quickly, it takes her breath away.
As the dust settles, she hears a moan coming from Killian's direction and sees that he's lying on the ground, clutching his chest. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
"Killian!" she screams, rushing over to him. "Oh God, Killian, where are you hit?"
Tears threaten to blur her vision as she checks him over, the blood pooling through his shirt. She strokes her hands soothingly over his face, willing him not to die as he writhes on the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.
"Killian, please, hold on, I'll call for help. Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too!" Everything she had buried deep inside comes rushing to the surface as she watches him suffer, the pain twisting his face in agony. She loves him, goddammit, she loves him so much.
"Man down! I need emergency medical service on the South lawn, stat." She lowers her comm with shaking hands, pressing her hands into his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
A voice comes out of the darkness and Emma doesn't know if things could get any worse at this moment, but somehow they seem to be.
"Ah, Miss Swan, at last we meet." A man with curly brown hair and a red handkerchief tied around his throat stalks towards her, a gun in his hand pointing right at her head. Fuck.
Her life flashes before her and she's gripped with a panic so intense she's sure her heart stops beating, but then she hears a gunshot coming from another direction and the man stops, dropping his gun and falling to his knees. A second shot and he's slumping forward, face down into the lawn.
David appears out of the darkness of the passageway, and Emma's never been more relieved in her entire life.
"Got your back, partner," he says simply, and Emma sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, before looking back at the man on the lawn.
"Who in the hell was that?" she asks no one in particular, but Whale takes it upon himself to answer her.
"August Booth, criminal mastermind. Or was, anyway," he says glumly, jerking his bruised and bloodied head in the direction of the fallen man. Emma remembers the text messages from "A.B." and suddenly everything makes more sense. There were always four men involved and the Bureau had thought the fourth was Killian, but now she knows he was never really involved at all.
David gets on his comm, giving orders to the other agents and telling the EMTs how to find them. Then he goes to Jefferson and Booth to check for a pulse, and the fact that they're most likely dead makes her stomach ill.
Emma returns her attention to Killian, who's still writhing beneath her and her heart sinks once again.
"Emma-" he grits out as he tries to look in her direction and she immediately shushes him.
"It's OK, you're gonna be alright, the EMTs are coming." She presses frantically at his chest and the tears begin to fall, both in relief and torment.
Leaning down, she puts her forehead against his, nudging his nose softly with her own. "Why did you do it, Killian?" she whispers in wonder, gently kissing his cheekbone.
She pulls away again and he answers her through gasps of pain, his chest heaving. "Twas the right thing to do." The words hang in the air, electrifying and profound, as he closes his eyes.
Emma is awestruck, her feelings for him immediately deepening. The fact that he gave up his revenge for her is one thing, but that he also turned on his friends, even helping her take them down? She can hardly believe it. He's a better man than she ever gave him credit for, and now she might lose him for good. A desperate wail threatens to escape her throat if that damn EMT doesn't get here right now.
She feels David's hand on her shoulder. "How is he? What happened?"
"Jefferson," she answers, glancing in the direction of his body on the ground, the loathing in her voice palpable.
They hear more voices and David calls out, "Over here!"
Emma refuses to remove her hands from Killian's chest until the EMT gently pushes her aside, where she stands closely by, watching helplessly as they treat his wound. David grabs her arm, and when she looks up at him, she finally collapses. He catches her in his strong arms, and she sinks into his embrace as he cups the back of her head.
"It'll be alright Emma," he whispers soothingly, but she still feels like sobbing, the adrenaline starting to wear off as the weight of the moment sinks in. Pulling back because she's still an FBI agent and also she thinks they might be putting Killian on a stretcher, she sees people milling about, one of the other agents directing the ambulance that is backing into the space. The stark realization that they're going to need a coroner hangs heavy on her conscience.
When they start to lift Killian into the ambulance, she turns and looks at David, a silent question on her face. He sees the look in her eyes and he pauses, considering.
"Go," he finally tells her, and the corners of her lips tilt up in the barest of smiles. "I'll take care of things here. Regina will want a full report though, later."
"Thank you," she tells him earnestly, before bounding up to the ambulance and climbing inside.
The ride to the hospital is erratic as Emma both tries and doesn't to listen to what the EMTs are saying, but it sounds like they're mostly trying to keep Killian stable until he gets to the hospital. She holds his hand the entire way, and she swears she even feels him squeeze it now and then. Staring at his handsome face, her heart clenches painfully. If she loses him...she just couldn't bear it. He has to be OK. He just has to.
At the hospital, they wheel him away straight into the O.R. and she's left standing there alone, the uncomfortable smell of hospital disinfectants pervading her senses. A few of the other patients and family members stare at her awkwardly, and she realizes she's still in her FBI uniform, the bright letters glaring on her chest. She unstraps her vest, happy to be relieved of its weight.
Collapsing into a waiting room chair, she leans over and puts her head in her hands, the stress of the day taking its toll as tremors course through her body. There's nothing else she can do now but wait.
Killian knows he's dreaming, but it's such a nice dream he's not sure if he wants to wake up. He's floating in the water on his surfboard, the sky bright and blue above him. A blonde angel floats next to him, and the sun seems to be coming from behind her golden hair, making her whole head glow. She smiles at him and reaches out her hand and he takes it, reveling in the feel of her fingers in his.
Swan, he thinks.
"Killian?"
Groaning as he registers the pain in his chest, he fights to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel heavy and he's tired, so very tired.
He manages to open them a slit and there she is, his beautiful blonde angel, holding his hand. He smiles, settling back into the pillows as he adjusts his body in the bed.
"Hey beautiful," he groans.
Emma squeezes his hand. "How're you doing? Can I get you anything? Water? Do you want me to call the nurse?"
"What happened?" he asks, his voice thick, as he struggles to remember, blinking his eyes against the harsh hospital lights.
"Here-" she says, getting up and turning half the lights off which causes him great relief. Then she pours him a cup of water from the bedside tray and brings it to him, putting the straw to his lips. He takes a few sips gratefully as he realizes how dry his throat is.
"Jefferson, that nutjob, he shot you." He notices her eyes shifting away as she says it. "And then I shot him," she continues more quietly and he nods, the reality of it filtering through. He remembers now - the South lawn, the fight with Locksley, Jefferson approaching and the terror ripping through him when he thought he might shoot Emma.
"They were able to remove the bullet though, and it didn't hit any major arteries or organs, so it looks like you're going to be alright, Jones. Live to tell another tale, or whatever that saying is." Her face lights up, and she smiles at him affectionately, making him wonder if he's still dreaming.
He reaches out and takes her hand. "Emma...thank you." The whole thing's a mess if he really thinks about it, but also, all's well that ends well, right?
She looks down, fidgeting with their clasped fingers. "I should be thanking you, Killian." Looking into his eyes, she takes his breath away, the green so clear and earnest, and he realizes it's the first conversation they've had when all the cards have been laid out on the table. Well, maybe not all the cards…
"Showing up there to help me, it was a risky thing to do, but you were right - they might have gotten away if you hadn't come."
Clearing his throat, he avoids her eyes, suddenly feeling bashful as he smiles timidly in response. He struggled all Saturday over his decision, but ultimately it was Emma that tipped the scales. He was angry with her, sure, but he understood that she was just doing her job, and given the same circumstances, he likely would have done the same things. Except he's pretty sure the FBI doesn't tell their agents to sleep with their marks (or cry over them, or show up at the hospital to check up on them) and he can feel the faintest glimmer of hope invading his better judgement, the same hope that compelled him to give up on his revenge.
"Well, like I said before, it was the right thing to do." Sighing, he knows he'll have to resign himself to the fact that he may never get justice for Milah, something that pains him greatly.
Emma steps closer to the bed, her thumb drawing soothing circles on top of his hand. She looks nervous when her eyes meet his, and he finds that he's hanging on her every word as everything stills around them.
"Killian, I-" she starts, but just then he hears a loud knock on the door and a dark haired woman in a business suit enters the room, looking both regal and official, an FBI badge clipped to her belt. Whatever Emma was about to say will have to wait, but he has a feeling he's going to want to hear it.
"Well, Miss Swan, I didn't realize you'd joined the hospital staff." The woman looks sharply at Emma, who drops his hand quickly.
"Sorry, I was just checking in on him," she says awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears. The other woman smirks knowingly as she scans him over with such emphasis he's not sure whether to feel flattered or violated.
"Mr. Jones, I'm Regina Mills, Miss Swan's supervising officer." She doesn't reach out her hand to shake his, which frankly, he's grateful for, his arms suddenly feeling heavy and weak.
"Ah, that clears things up a bit."
She raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, I hope it does. Anyway, I'm here because the Bureau owes you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Jones. Despite your questionable activities, you helped us bring in a ring of known criminals and for that the Bureau is extremely grateful."
Killian nods, feeling a blush stain his cheeks as Emma smiles down at him, pride evident on her face, before she returns her attention to her boss.
"My pleasure, ma'am," he says, addressing Agent Mills.
The brunette lowers her voice, inching just a bit closer. "I understand you have inquiries into the death of your former lover, Milah Gold."
"Aye," he nods, his jaw clenching as the thought of Robert Gold enters his mind.
Regina take a deep breath. "Because of your bravery and assistance to the Bureau, I'm going to make sure justice is served," she tells him, and his heart leaps. "I've already talked to my commanding officer, and he's agreed to let me investigate. Now, I'm not guaranteeing you anything, mind you - Mr. Gold will be a slippery fish to catch - but we're going to give it our best shot." She offers him a small smile.
Killian can hardly believe what he's hearing. "Thank you, Ms. Mills. That's-" he shakes his head, unbelieving. "That's more than I could have ever hoped for."
Regina lifts her eyes to Emma's, a look of recognition passing between them.
"Alright, well, I'll leave you to rest," she says. "I'll be in touch when we have news. See you at the office, Miss Swan?"
Emma is smiling now, back to her former ease as she leans on his bed railing. "Yeah, I'll be in soon."
With an efficient nod, Ms. Mills sweeps out of the room, leaving a trace of her fragrance behind and a whole lot of happiness.
"Well, this day is certainly looking up."
Emma sits on the side of his bed, sharing his smile. "I'm happy for you," she says, and it makes him wonder. He puts his hand on her forearm gently.
"What was it you were going to say to me earlier, before your boss arrived?"
She ducks her head, and he prays that the moment hasn't been lost forever.
Finally, she turns towards him and meets his gaze, taking in a deep, shuddering breath and he nods his head at her gently for encouragement.
"Oh, nothing. Just that I love you," she says, shrugging her shoulders. Killian can hardly believe what he's hearing, so he replays the words in his head confirming that she did indeed just tell him she loves him. An enormous grin spreads over his face and he grabs her hand, yanking her towards him until her chest is pressed up against his torso, suddenly feeling a burst of energy.
"I love you, too," he whispers, cradling her head in his hands and staring deeply into her eyes. Then he kisses her, threading his fingers into her hair and digging them into her scalp possessively, feeling her chest rise and then fall again as she melts into him.
After everything that's happened, it seems to good to be true, but by God he's going to take it and hold onto it with all his might and never let go. Somehow, he's won the heart of this beautiful, intelligent, fierce woman, and it's a revelation, it's like a new beginning.
Emma kisses him back passionately, her hands winding into his hair as she carefully avoids leaning too hard against his wounded chest, but he can't even feel the pain anymore. All he feels is the hard press of her soft lips to his, the weight of her lithe body on top of him, the brush of her nose against his cheek. Maybe he's died and gone to heaven after all. He doesn't care.
When she finally pulls back from their long, hard kiss, she leans her forehead against his and smiles, her fingers caressing his stubbled jaw.
There's pain and uncertainty in her voice when she speaks, and he longs to soothe it all away, pushing her silky hair away from her face with careful hands.
"I'm sorry for what I put you through...for lying to you."
He shakes his head, inadvertently giving her an eskimo kiss.
"'Salright, Emma. All is forgiven, love."
She kisses him again, holding his hand against her cheek. He feels a slight twinge between his legs and it surprises him, though it shouldn't really, Emma tends to have that effect on him. Down boy, there'll be time for that later.
"I should go. Let you sleep."
She pulls away and he mourns the loss of her body heat instantly, groaning softly in protest. Killian lifts her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Emma smiles - a real, genuine smile - and he thinks he'll never grow weary of the sight. He certainly couldn't wipe the grin off his face if he tried.
"You could 'sleep' with me," he says with a cocky raise of one eyebrow.
Emma rolls her eyes, biting her lower lip and giggling softly.
"I'm a bit shot up, but everything else is still intact, I assure you."
Her eyes dart down to where the blanket is peaking in the middle of the bed and she raises her eyebrows.
"I don't think you can handle it right now, Jones." She crosses her arms over her chest.
"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he retorts, popping the t. He knows he's being ridiculous, but frankly, he doesn't care. Maybe the meds he's on are making him feel extra flirtatious. Or maybe he's just glad to be alive.
All of his flirtation pays off when Emma leans in again, kissing him soundly, gliding her tongue over his lips in a way that leaves him wanting more, though he could hardly ever tire of kissing her he thinks, her mouth sending shockwaves coursing through his body.
Eventually, she manages to drag herself away, and he does mean drag - she comes back for two more kisses, and who knows how long their little dalliance might have continued except a nurse comes in to check his vitals and administer more medication and Emma springs from the bed, a rosy glow spreading over her cheeks.
"Alright, I'm really going this time. Liam should be back soon. He just ran down to the cafeteria to get something to eat."
"Thanks, love," he says, wondering how he's going to explain all this to his big brother.
The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep again is the look on her face as she turns back at the door, waving and mouthing, "Bye," her green eyes shining with mirth and tenderness.
He's had a lot of bad days in his life, but this is not one of them. No, today is a good day.
A/N: Hope you liked that wild ride! This is the last chapter of the fic, but there will be an epilogue, I promise, with that um, happy ending I know you're all waiting for. ;)