I know I said I would update yesterday but things got a little out of hand, and I got called into work unexpectedly. But here's the next chapter! And it's a big one, or at least in the sense that you find out a lot of information. I hope you enjoy it and understand where Killian and Emma are coming from! Enjoy and happy Saturday :)
She's been looking at colleges for months. Out of state universities, and small liberal arts schools. She wants to pursue a degree in social work, give kids like her the home she never had until recently.
She goes to her guidance counselor, spends hours scouring college pamphlets and financial aid information. She's serious about this, and Killian's wonderful, helping her and encouraging her. He's looking into some local community colleges, says he's not sure he can even afford those, but he's going to try. He doesn't want to take out any loans, he says, and Emma might agree with him, but her dreams are too big, and she can't let the prospect of debt scare her into not pursuing them. Besides, there are worst debts to have.
It's when April rolls around, and she's been accepted to three of the five colleges that she applied to, that Killian starts acting strange.
At first she thinks it might be because she's seeing him less and less now that the end of the year is approaching and she's knee deep in a thousand projects, as is he, but when she confronts him about it he just kisses her forehead, and tells her everything is fine, just feels a bit under the weather, or that he didn't get enough sleep the night before.
She brushes it off, figuring that he's probably just extra tired since he started picking up shifts at the docks with Liam.
They still spend time together, and they're still very happy, very in love. In fact, if anything, Killian tells her he loves her more and more. When they're walking home from school, and she's in the middle of talking about colleges and deadlines and he stops her and kisses her hard, before whispering that he loves her, loves her more than anything or anyone, as he puts it. Or when they're intimate, and he can't stop staring at her, can't stop touching her, whispering the phrase over and over again into the skin of her neck, practically sobbing it out. "I love you Emma, god I love you."
So what comes next was never even on her radar. What comes next breaks her in two.
She decides on a Friday. Makes up her mind and finally, decides that she's going to go to NYU.
It's five hours away, give or take, and she's nervous about going that far away from Killian, and neither of them have a car, but they can talk on the phone, they'll see each other on holidays. Plus they love one another, they can make this work.
She tells Ruth and David that night, and she's supposed to go over to Killian's later to watch a movie. It's a rare Friday night that he's off and has the house to himself so they're both pretty excited to spend the evening together. She's excited to tell him too, and she can't wait for his reaction, can't wait to see how happy he is for her, how proud he is.
When she gets to his house that night he's all smiles and warm words. He hugs her, kisses her, cuddles with her, mentions that he loves her more than once, and she feels so light, so happy and warm in his presence.
"I have something to tell you," she says with a smile on her face, looking over at him where he sits against the headboard of his bed. He's got a bowl of popcorn in his lap and his hair is still slightly damp from his earlier shower, laying flat against his forehead.
"What's that, love?" he asks through a mouth of popcorn.
She decides it's best to just blurt it out, besides, how do you lead up to good news? He already knows she's been looking at colleges, they've talked about it extensively. So she might as well just go ahead and say it.
"I'm going to NYU!" She says it with as must excitement as she can muster, because now that she's here, she's far more nervous about his reaction than she'd had thought.
What she gets is him quickly moving the bowl of popcorn aside, pulling her into his arms, and telling her how proud he is of her over and over again, the words intermixed with "I love you's" and "That's brilliant, Swan. You're brilliant."
She leaves that night, happy and warm, ready to start the next chapter of their lives together.
It's not a week later that the other shoe drops. She's been waiting for it to do so ever since she met David and Ruth, ever since she met Killian. She should have known that no matter how good it felt, no matter how great her life was going at the moment, it could never stay that way for long. How could it? She's never had that before.
It's a Thursday night, and usually, she'd be asleep by 1:30 in the morning on a school night, but it's exam week and her last exam is tomorrow at noon, so she'll go to sleep in an hour or so, taking full advantage of that later wake-up time.
She hears the pebbles against her window pane and immediately knows that it's Killian. Though he's only done this twice before, once to wake her up and take her to see a meteor shower, and once more because it was the anniversary of his mother's death, and he just needed to be around someone.
She doesn't even bother opening the window, just flicks the lamp next to the window on quickly, then turns it off once more, to let him know that she heard and she's coming downstairs.
When she gets outside he's sitting on the top step of the porch, head bent low and legs bouncing with nervous energy.
"Killian?" She whispers, her breath turning into puffs of cold air as it leaves her mouth. It might be April, but the evenings are still decidedly cold. "What's wrong?"
He looks up at the mention of his name, and she's shocked by the look of sorrow that she sees there. He looks broken, wrecked.
She hurries to his side but he flinches away from her touch when she tries to put her arm around him.
She tries to mask her own hurt at his reaction when she says his name once more, begging him to open up to her.
It's minutes that go by, minutes that feel like hours before he finally offers up an explanation.
"I've enlisted in the Navy."
It takes a beat for her to process the words. The Navy? He's never said anything about the Navy before.
"I leave the day after graduation."
It feels like all the air has been sucked from her lungs, like she's dying on that front porch step, shriveling up because fucking hell she should have seen this coming.
"You're leaving me?" It comes out as a whisper, and she's not sure he heard her at first, but by the way that his head swivels toward her, sharp and fast, she knows he did.
"What, no, Swan," he reaches for her hand but it's her turn to flinch away from his touch this time.
"That's what you just said isn't it? I don't know much about the Navy, Killian but I do know that you'll probably go to some boot camp for a few months, right? And then you'll go to some base in some far off place and I won't see you again for a year, or more!" She's shaking now, because she can't believe this, can't believe he would do this when he said he would stay. What happened to the plans they had? What happened to community college and visiting each other on long weekends or holiday breaks? What happened to them?
"I'll be back, Swan. I get weeks off at a time, and we'll see each other."
"Weeks off, Killian? Weeks that I'll be at school! I can't just throw my college life away on a whim because you'll finally be home for two weeks at a time. What happened to community college? What happened to being honest with one another? Why did you wait a week before you have to leave to tell me this?"
He has his head hung down in what Emma only assumes is shame but she doesn't care. She's too angry at herself for falling for his act, for believing the lies he told her.
"Don't worry about me, Killian." She rises up from her spot on the porch, and she moves to go back inside, to leave him there without another word but he grabs ahold of her hand, palm sweaty and fingers shaking.
"Emma, please. Wait-I-I love you." There are tears in his eyes and she can feel her heart breaking because she loves him, she does, but she can't do this, can't be with someone who lies to her, who doesn't trust her enough to open up, who keeps secrets, and most of all, she can't be with someone who leaves.
She can't help the tears that fall down her own face at this point, all she can do is pry his fingers off her wrist, and watch as his hand falls limp to his side.
"Have a good life, Killian."
She leaves before the sobs start, for her, and for him.
The moment she wakes up she wants to crawl out of her skin and possibly die. Shrivel up on the floor, so she can be rid of all her memories of the previous night.
What. The. Fuck. Was she thinking?
Killian's body is warm against her back and he's got his left arm thrown around her, pulling her tighter against him. She feels like she could vomit because it feels so right but it's so, so, wrong.
Fucking Christmas. Every year her feelings get out of control on this damn holiday. Every year she lets her loneliness and her sorrows take her to places she should not go, and this year, they took her straight to the bed of the man who wrecked her first.
She's pretty sure he's the same way, though, pretty sure that Killian also lets this holiday get the best of him, because didn't he tell her they couldn't take it any further than that one kiss? Didn't he tell her she needs to forgive him first, needs to know why he left in the first place?
They're both a couple of grade A morons, it would seem.
And fucking hell she told him she loved him. It's true, there's no doubt about that, but now he knows, and he'll probably use that against her, make her forgive him quick and easy and everything can just go back to the way it was. But that's not going to happen, she can't let that happen, so she needs to come up with a plan.
She mulls it over for what feels like hours, trapped in that bed with him, his warm breath blowing on her neck. She should get up, really she should, but she can't deny herself a few more moments in his arms, a few more moments where everything feels right, even if everything is certainly not right.
By eight she's up and out of his bed, sliding out from under his arms carefully, so as not to wake him. (She's not ready for the conversation she needs to have with him yet, not at all) She's got to be in the station by nine, David promising he'll take over her shift at noon (and also promising he's going to hire some additional help because dammit the work is getting to be too much for just the two of them)
She looks back one more time at Killian's sleeping form. He looks content, still dreaming that she's there with him, and she wishes more than anything that she could give that to him, that she could give him her body and her mind and her soul once more, but she can't. She gave him last night, and she gave him the truth, even if by tomorrow she's going to make sure he believes it was nothing but the heat of the moment.
"I love you." She whispers from across the apartment, one hand on the doorknob, and there are tears falling from her eyes, hitting the floor and splattering across her toes.
She wishes time would just give her back what she once had: an open heart, and a boundless love for the man lying in the bed she just left, a love that didn't make her stomach turn sour with fear.
She leaves before the sobs start.
"Happy Post-Christmas Day!"
The booming voice of her older brother jerks Emma from her half-sleep so much so that she nearly tumbles from her chair.
"Jesus, David," she mumbles under her breath, fixing her hair and straightening out her t-shirt. "How about no to the after-holiday cheeriness?"
"What's with you?" David asks, coming around to face her and setting down a large brown bag on her desk.
Emma elects to ignore his question, "What's in the bag?"
"Just some left-overs," he says with a shrug, before leaning back and removing his heavy jacket. He hangs it on the rack in the corner of the office before shaking some snow from his hair. "Sorry I'm a little late, but I just got off the phone with a possible new hire, so I'm guessing that means it was worth it?" He smiles at her and she can't help but smile back, she missed her brother.
"Who's the new guy?" Emma asks while digging through the bag on her desk. There's leftover Christmas ham, pie, cookies, and mashed potatoes. She'll be eating better the next two days than she has the entire year.
"His name is Will, I think his last name might be Scarlet, or Scarson, something with Scar, for sure."
Emma nearly spits out the sip of coffee she'd just taken, "Mr. Pervert?!"
"Excuse me, who?"
"You're seriously considering hiring Mr. Pervert?"
"If by Mr. Pervert you mean Will-" David looks down at the sticky note that he just retrieved from his back pocket, "Scarlet, then yes, that is who I'm considering hiring, but if he's some kind of pervert or pedophile then I guess I'll have to reconsider. I'm still waiting on the results of his background check, but Killian said he was a decent guy, or as he put it 'a good bloke' so I figured I'd look into it." David shrugs and sets the sticky note down on his desk, and he's not looking at Emma, who is silently fuming behind her own workspace.
"Since when does Killian have a say on who works at the Sheriff's station?"
David looks back at her, shock and confusion lining his face, "He doesn't, but Will put Killian down as a reference and usually when you want to hire someone you do take the word of said references into account. What is going on, Emma? Why are you so upset about this?"
She isn't really. Upset that is. Killian told her months ago that Will wasn't a bad guy, just got a little randy if he drank too much. He also told her that he had a tough life, and was just trying to get back on his feet after the recent loss of his wife and that when he first moved here he worked at The Jolly Roger for a few months. But what she was really upset about is that there was seemingly no escaping Killian Jones. He was a fixture in her life even in the parts that she previously thought devoid of his presence.
She's frustrated mostly. At first, she was just surprised that Will was trying to fix his life so much that he wanted to join the law force, but then Killian's name was brought up and well-the wound's still a little fresh.
"I'm not, I'm just-god, just never mind. I need some sleep, so I'll talk to you later."
Emma leaves the station before David can reply, and she's still got just enough anger left in her that she can go through with the plan she came up with this morning. She needs to end this with Killian, can't let it get any further. She has to really, because she may love him, but she can't be with him. Not now. Not ever.
He's waiting for her when she gets back to the bar. It's closed today, Killian said something about business being much too slow the day after a holiday, and that really it wasn't worth the electricity bill to keep it open for the one or two customers that would maybe, possibly come in.
So color her surprised, when she walks into the bar, and finds the lights on, music playing, and the closed sign very much staying CLOSED.
She knows what he's doing, he did this plenty of times when they dated. He's trying to surprise her, plan some big romantic gesture, and it used to work, but it's not working now.
And yet, she can still feel some of her anger seeping away the longer she stares at the bar, with it's pretty, soft glow, the smell of cedar and smoke in the air. It's then, as she's admiring the atmosphere, that she begins to recognize the notes being played. Recognizes the tune, and her heart stops still.
Clair de Lune.
All her anger is gone in a flash, and all she feels is an overwhelming, heart-stopping amount of sorrow. Bone-deep sadness echoing throughout ever chasm of her broken soul.
She starts to cry the moment he calls her name, something jovial and hopeful present in his voice and that's when the tears really start to fall.
"Swan?" No more happiness in that voice. Just worry. Just her heart breaking.
She can hear Killian coming towards her, and she's just staring at the ground, standing right inside the entrance of the bar, the dull lighting illuminating her face just enough so that he can see her tears. And she knows he sees them because she hears his sharp intake of breath. She hears his steps hurry toward her, and the sound makes her flinch the moment he gets close enough to touch.
"Swan?" His hand settles on her shoulder, and she leans into his warmth even though her mind is screaming at her to stop, back away, and run, but she can't deny herself this comfort. She just can't.
"My darling, what's wrong?" The possessiveness of his statement has her sobbing harder, falling against him, and he cradles her head against his chest, left arm wrapped around her waist.
But it's the kiss that he places on the top of her head that shocks her out of his embrace.
"No." is all she says, voice strong and resolute, and Killian looks particularly taken aback, his arms still in the same position they'd been when he'd been holding her.
She points an accusatory finger at him, shaking her head before she continues, "You don't get to touch me, not until you tell me the truth, and maybe not even then." He still looks shocked, and he's still not saying anything. "Last night was a mistake," she sees him flinch, "and I was going to come in here today and tell you that I lied, that I didn't mean it when I said I loved you, but I can't do that because it's not true. I do love you, Killian." There are tears falling from eyes again, streaking down her cheeks, silent but powerful. "But I can't give you my love, and I can't keep doing this back and forth until you tell me why you left ten years ago. Until you tell me why you broke my heart when you swore you wouldn't when you promised that you loved me."
He has his jaw clenched and his fingers wrapped into a fist, there's fury and passion radiating off him and she's not sure if it's directed at her or at himself, but she gets her answer just seconds later.
"You're right." His eyes meet hers, blue on green. "You deserve to know the truth. Will you come over for dinner tonight? Around eight? I'll tell you everything, Emma, I swear it." There's no tremor to his voice and she can tell immediately that he isn't lying, that he really will tell her everything.
She nods in response, and then he's gone, descending down to his office without a glance back at her.
She almost chickens out. Three times. Which is ridiculous for many reasons, but most of all because she is the one who asked for this. She's the one who wants an explanation.
But she's so scared of what that explanation might be.
For years now, for one entire decade, she has wondered why he had chosen to leave. Why he had joined the navy on a whim. Why he had left when he had promised to stay.
She knows now that her love for Killian Jones had never really gone away, even when she had "loved" Neal, loved Graham, liked Walsh. She'd never stopped loving Killian, and now he claims to have never stopped loving her.
Yet he left her. Then he almost married another woman. How could he have loved her as passionately as he claims, when he so strongly loved another?
She guesses that she'll get her answers tonight, or at least some of them.
Emma's mostly worried about what will come after the truths have been told and the long-kept secrets spilled.
Will they fall into bed again? (She admits her skin tingles at the thought) Will she hate him too much to even look at him?
These are the thoughts that worry her conscious as she makes her way over to Killian's apartment just before eight; skinny jeans and a white, comfy sweater adorning her body.
Emma doesn't bother knocking, striding through the front door with power and self-assurance.
The moment she enters the threshold of the apartment her senses are assaulted with a multitude of sights, sounds, and smells.
She can tell immediately that Killian is cooking something Italian, and her mouth waters at the scents filling the air. There's soft music playing, nothing that she recognizes, thankfully, and the whole apartment is bathed in a warm, yellow glow.
Killian is standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot and he's humming along lazily to the tune that is sweeping over the place. It doesn't seem like he saw her enter, so she makes a show of letting her shoes clatter to the floor, garnering his attention rather quickly.
"Swan! Hello, lass, would you care to help? I'm a bit in over my head at the moment."
She makes her way over to the kitchen with measured steps, "What are you making?"
"Chicken parmigiana, along with some pasta and a side salad. Care to chop up the tomatoes over there?"
Emma says nothing as she makes her way over to the cutting board, cutting the small cherry tomatoes into halves and then transporting them into a small, blue ceramic bowl. Killian starts plating their dishes almost immediately after Emma is finished cutting, throwing the salad together, and bringing the plates and the bowls to his small, but well-made dining room table. It's one big circle, made out of oak or cherry or some type of dark, beautiful wood.
"Bon appetit," he says half-heartedly, no doubt sensing her dark mood and her desire to not make this into something that it isn't. Because it's not a date, it's not a friendly get together, it's him making a meal for her before he breaks her heart in half once more.
They finish their meal, and because Killian is Killian he insists on cleaning it and the kitchen up before divulging into heavier conversation topics. She doesn't know if he's just trying to put it off for a while longer or if he really cannot rest until the kitchen is once again spotless.
Knowing him, it's probably the latter.
She tries to help but he insists that she make herself comfortable, and she's not trying to argue over something as minuscule as cleaning a kitchen when she knows that there will be far weightier arguments being had sooner rather than later, so she settles herself down into the soft cushions of his sofa, grabbing a pillow and pressing it against her chest, a physical wall rather than her usual emotional ones. She fears she might need both tonight.
She tries her hardest not to glance at the bed in the corner, her cheeks heating up in a riotous blush every time she thinks about what happened in that bed only hours ago, about how he made her feel, about the way he worshiped her body.
Luckily the return of his presence pulls her from her far more provocative thoughts, and she focuses on Killian, the Killian who's sitting in front of her with a cup of cocoa in his hand.
He presses the warm mug into her hands with a small smile, one that speaks volumes of his hesitancy and fear for the conversation that he knows is coming.
"I feel we best start with your questions, so ask away, love."
Emma sips her cocoa, as a pretense for thinking this moment over, but truthfully, she doesn't need time to think of a question, she knows what she wants to ask, knows the question that's been rattling around in her head for years, for an entire decade now.
"Why?" Is all she says at first, and he cocks his head at her, confusion marring his handsome features.
"You'll have to be a bit more specific, lass."
"Why did you leave." She says it as a statement rather than a question, cold and hard the words come out of her mouth, shoot past her lips like a bullet. "Why did you say you loved me, promised to stay with me, and then left anyway?"
Killian sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair. "It's a mite bit complicated, love."
"You said you were going to tell me the truth, Killian!" Her voice rises steadily with each syllable that rushes past her lips, and she's starting to breathe heavy because she can't believe this, can't believe that he's trying to get out of this already.
"And I will, Emma! Let me just gather my thoughts here!" There's anger in his voice too and she doesn't know if that makes her angrier or more subdued, because all she can feel is frustration so blinding that it's hard to piece together her other feelings about this.
After a few minutes, he takes a shaking breath, before turning back to her, his eyes bright and his jaw clenched hard.
"Do you remember my college search?"
It's not the response she was expecting, so it takes a few seconds for her to reply. "Uh yeah, vaguely, I guess."
Killian nods, "Do you remember your college search?"
"God, Killian, yes, what does this have to do with anything?" Her frustration is getting the better of her, morphing into vicious anger the longer that it stays unresolved.
"Our searches were quite different, were they not?"
Emma huffs, she's not interested in this game of twenty questions, she wants answers, not riddles.
"You were looking at out of state colleges, grand private schools, and large public ones. You were looking for adventure and fun and mystery, and I was looking at whatever Liam said I could look at."
"So this is my fault," She starts in, rage bubbling over, but he stops her immediately.
"No, Swan, that's not what I'm saying at all. Give me a chance to speak, hm?" He smiles at her slightly and she can feel her body relax. Can feel her muscles unclench and her posture melt.
"Regardless, after winter break, Liam told me quite clearly that most likely I wouldn't be able to afford any college at all unless I took out massive loans. I considered doing this for awhile, but in the end, I figured it was pointless, I didn't even know what I would have wanted to study, so what was the point of putting myself into debt only to end up with a degree I didn't bloody like or want?"
"It wasn't until April that Liam told me he'd enlisted in the Navy. At first, the option seemed far-fetched, out of reach. I couldn't be in the Navy, I never wanted to be, but you kept talking about going off to college, about these grand schools and all the fun you'd be having and I knew I couldn't stay in this town, Emma. Without you, and David, Mary Margaret, and Liam. I'd have no one, absolutely no one."
She interrupts him quickly, "It wasn't like I was leaving forever, Killian! I would have come back!" Emma's begging him to see some sense, to realize why his explanation still doesn't make sense to her. "You knew how I felt about being left behind, you knew! And yet you left me anyway, and you didn't even tell me until the last possible moment!"
"Do you think you're the only one who was scared of being left behind, Emma?!" Killian's practically standing now, voice raised, his hand running through his hair, pulling on the dark strands. "I had abandonment issues, too, Emma, and you were leaving as well! Going five hours away to a college in a city that I'd never even been to. We didn't have cars, we didn't have cellphones. I would never have seen you, Emma! And I'm not blaming you, Emma, bloody hell, I'm not, but you have to see where I'm coming from!" He's breathing heavily now, chest heaving in anger or frustration, she doesn't know.
"First my mother died, then my father left, then Liam tells me he's leaving for the Navy, and then, on top of all of that I was losing you too. I was scared, Emma, I was so bloody scared that you would leave, and you would find someone who was there. That you would forget about me and choose instead to be with someone who could actually hold you, who could kiss you every day, and make love to you at night. I would have been thousands of miles away, more of an idea boyfriend than an actual one." He voice breaks on the last few words, his emotions getting the best of him.
He collapses back on the couch, head in his hand and legs bouncing with nervous energy.
"Why did you wait so long to tell me you had enlisted?"
"Because I was a coward," He mumbles into the space between his hunched over body.
"What were you afraid of?" She whispers, tears threatening to fall now because she's so confused, so hurt all over again.
"I was afraid of what happened, Emma." He looks up at her then, eyes blue but glassy. "That you would break up with me, ignore me, hate me. I wanted to keep you with me for as long as possible. I-I wanted you to love me for as long as possible." He wipes the sleeve of his thermal across his nose, sniffling lightly and it breaks her heart because she wishes neither of them had been so fucking stupid.
"Killian," she whispers, begging him for something that she's too afraid to ask for, but he knows her, can read her so well, and it's not a second before he's pulling her into his arms, holding her so tightly it should hurt, but all she wants is for him to hold her tighter.
He does.