Emma's foot tapped nervously on the floor as she sat on her bed, phone still in hand, watching the footage replay while the announcer spoke in the background, waiting for a reply from Regina.
"…This scene from earlier today was recorded following a shootout. Several FBI agents stormed this warehouse, previously thought to be abandoned. It actually contained one of the largest money laundering operations of the past decade. It is thought the agents entered the warehouse taking the occupants, members of the cartel, by surprise. They were not counting on several more arriving heavily armed. So far three agents are dead with several more in critical condition, it is unclear how many actually lost their lives today…"
The footage in the background showed a large building currently surrounded with yellow crime scene tape, officers were walking in and out of the building, and if she blinked, she would have missed it. She saw Regina, in the background, being escorted by an officer out of the building, at least, she thought it was Regina. The officer was blocking most of her body and she'd only caught a slight glimpse as they walked out the door before he'd moved to her side once again.
"Please don't let her be a criminal," Emma found herself repeating over and over again with still no reply from the now very mysterious brunette.
She kept checking her phone, tapping the lock button every so often to check the time, it seemed like it had stopped though. 5:12, it never changed, not once. The anticipation was killing her, but she refused, well, was currently resisting typing out another message.
5:13, still nothing. 5:14, was she alright? Was she locked up? Or worse, what if she was dead? God please don't let her be a criminal. Was it all just an act? What about the club? She'd known the guy a little too well, and what was with the back entrance? Something had seemed off about that, like really off.
She unlocked her phone, seeing nothing following her message. She thought better, and locked it again, putting it down on the bed, she got up and paced her room. Two laps, that was all she made before she lunged after her phone again, pulling up her conversation, her fingers shaking she tapped out another message.
Please respond, please tell me you're not a criminal, please tell me you're okay. I'm really worried, just let me know.
She could feel her tears threatening to escape, she wasn't sure if it was out of frustration or something more, hurt? Betrayal? Worry? It wasn't like the brunette to not respond. Well, maybe it was, they really hadn't known each other that long and the blonde couldn't say for sure what she was or wasn't like normally. Maybe she had given the brunette too much importance in her life, that was actually very likely, and it was even more likely that the other had not given her nearly the same power.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the brunette texted back. It definitely wasn't what Emma expected.
I'm fine, I'm not a criminal. What's brought up this line of questioning?
I saw you on TV, you were with a cop at that warehouse shooting today. That or you have a very convincing twin.
What shooting? Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?
There was a shifty eyes emoji included in that last message. Emma looked up at the TV once again, replaying the same scenes over again, she kept watching for the brunette leaving with the officer. It never came.
"Was I just imagining that? I know I haven't been drinking. Am I really just seeing things?" She began to question herself before realizing that Regina was probably waiting for a reply.
I coulda sworn I saw you on TV, the news is all over that warehouse shooting today. It looked like you were in the background being escorted out by a cop. I was scared you'd been involved. Sorry to freak on you like that.
No worries, I'm glad you care about my safety, but should I be concerned you're imagining me places? Especially dangerous ones? What would an accountant be doing in a shootout?
I don't know, I thought maybe you were like one of those agents or something. Aren't they all like paper pushers anyways?
Well, you don't have to worry about that, I'm an unarmed paper pusher/number cruncher, biggest risk I have is a papercut at work. ;)
Thank god, wait, you're not a hemophiliac or whatever that could bleed out are you?
Nope, not going to die of a papercut any time soon. But seriously, should I be worried about your extreme concern over my safety?
Nah, just think of it as an extreme lack of others to care about in my life.
Emma put her phone down, "Shit, I didn't think she'd question me on that, what if she finds out? Is she gonna push me away? I'd rather have her in my life than not at all." All of Emma's inner fears began pushing themselves out of the dark recesses of her mind, coming forward once more, each thought getting crazier and crazier but all involved losing or rather, being forced, out of the brunette's life. She kneeled down in front of the minibar, looking to see what alcoholic goodness was stored within it. She grabbed a tiny bottle of vodka and tossed it back in an attempt to push the thoughts away with it.
She still had to put up a good act with Killian tonight if she wanted to finish the job. More importantly, if she wanted to stay alive. She was running out of time, three days left to get it done or she'd be done. And that would mean losing Regina, but at that point, it didn't really matter what Regina had figured out or thought or her feelings to be brutally honest. She couldn't ruin her chance with Killian, who knows if she'd get another, and with what he was thinking would happen, she'd have to go through with it for that chance. She cringed at the thought of what would have to occur, his sweaty body writhing on top of hers, the act she'd have to put up.
Faking the orgasm wasn't the problem, that's a skill every woman has, but being convincing, at least enough to make him come back, well, it really didn't help he was a guy and she wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't that he was unattractive, but it was more that she was about as straight as a hairpin turn. And he was most definitely male.
She'd need to be on top of her game for this, there was no doubt about that, and any drama with Regina needed to take a backseat. She still couldn't shake the feeling that something about that conversation seemed off, but it was honestly more likely that she'd simply been imagining her friend in the background, besides she'd watched the clip repeatedly and not seen her or that other cop there again. On second thought, maybe a couple more bottles wouldn't hurt. Just as long as she didn't smell like a brewery later when Killian arrived she figured she'd be fine, and besides a little liquid courage never hurt when it came to her acting abilities.
Soon enough, the fateful knock on her door came, and she took one deep breath, slowly exhaling as she made her way to the door, mentally preparing herself along the way. Pulling it open, she plastered on the best, most sincere smile she could manage and invited him in for a drink.
He smiled eagerly, maybe a little too eagerly considering this was to be his last night alive. Stepping inside, he wrapped his hands behind his back, trying to act as the ever chivalrous gentleman, his pristine white uniform gripping his body, showing off well defined muscles hidden beneath layers of clothing. "Enjoying your stay?"
"Of course, the ship's very nice, all the comforts of home here," Emma lied through her teeth, not wanting to admit she hadn't left the cabin all day, in anticipation of this exact moment, "What can I get you to drink?"
"I wouldn't mind a spot rum if there's any," he started to make himself comfortable in her room, knowing exactly how tonight should end.
Emma made her way to the mini-fridge, bending over to inspect the contents. She took her time, feeling his eyes on her, her dress for the night hugging all her curves perfectly, "Looks like you're in luck tonight, there's a couple mini bottles here." She grabbed both of them and stood up, looking over her shoulder to meet his gaze.
Killian made his way over to her, arms outstretched, intent on pulling her into his embrace. Emma felt his arms wrap around her waist, felt his body pressing into hers, his breath warm against her neck. She fought the urge to tense up, sinking back into his arms as his beard tickled her neck as he kissed her way down. She tilted her head away, allowing him easier access, trying to forget who he was, instead imagining it was Regina. He slowly pushed his way further and Emma turned in his arms, facing him, she pressed her lips against his attempting to distract him while she reached for her cuffs.
As his hands made their way over her body she broke the kiss, sliding the cuffs on him. Emma couldn't hold back a smirk as a look of confusion then fear washed over his face. The room was filled with a soft blue glow, the light emanating from the cuffs on his wrist. The waves outside the boat picked up, rocking the ship back and forth, lightning flashed outside the cabin window and around them hooded figures appeared. Clawed hands extended from the oversized sleeves, the room filled with an eerie chill, another flash of lightning and Graham appeared in front of her.
He gave her a slight smile and a gentle nod in her direction as she stepped back, putting more distance between herself and the scene unfolding in front of her. Graham turned his focus to Killian, a scythe materializing in his hands as the hooded figures circled around him, holding Killian in place. He began begging for his life, pleading for forgiveness, asking for another chance, saying he could be of use, he knew where she was, he'd help them just please spare his life.
Emma turned from the scene in front of her, she couldn't bear to see the sight of a grown man begging like this, she couldn't witness Graham taking the life of the man she'd captured, the thought that he was dead now because of her. She couldn't watch as they all faded from this plane, returning the world back to normal, the waters quieting once more, a peace falling over the ship. Now she just needed to get home.