I would apologize for all the angst but judging from your response to this fic, you seem to be enjoying it, so have some more, and thank you for reading.
It's been a few weeks since the attack, and Emma had only seen Killian a handful of times; whenever he needs his bandages changed, he comes to her, and he sits quietly while she does it.
They don't really talk, but Emma still cherishes those stolen moments in which she manages to find some peace in all the chaos surrounding them.
Killian is looking at her, but she keeps her eyes on his stomach, focusing on what she needs to do to help him instead of thinking how much she wants him to kiss her.
She knows better than to try kissing him.
"You're working too much", he tells her abruptly and she shrugs, carefully pulling his t-shirt back down and turning away because she doesn't want him to know how much the simple fact that he'd noticed is affecting her.
"Everybody is working too much, Killian. Including you", she says and bites her lip because she knows exactly why he's doing it.
It's the same reason she barely goes back to the bungalow anymore, and why she's afraid to close her eyes.
Killian steps around her, his scent enveloping her when he brushes a lock of hair away from her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek before he shakes himself and his hand falls back against his side.
"Take care of yourself, Swan", he tells her and she looks up just in time to see the door close behind him.
She knows he still loves her, and it's killing her that he's not the one taking care of her anymore.
The number of casualties is staggering, and climbing every day; Emma is completely numb because inside the number, there are friends and acquaintances she's never going to see again.
There's too many dead for each of them to have their own funeral, and so Emma stands in a field of coffins with Ruby and Belle next to her, staring at her shoes and blinking back tears because one of the coffins is Ariel's; Eric is kneeling next to it, and she knows exactly how he feels.
Something makes her look up and her eyes find Killian; he's across the hangar from her, so tall and beautiful in his uniform, but she can't see his eyes under the brim of his hat and even from this far away she can tell that his jaw is clenched.
The priest says the same hollow words he did during Killian's memorial, and if anything, Emma is more furious at the injustice of it all than she was before; she swallows her tears and watches Whale hug Ruby, feeling an awful pang of jealousy that she shouldn't be feeling because Ruby is her best friend, and it's not her fault that she'd been lucky enough to find the love of her life and be able to keep him.
As soon as the funeral ends Emma starts walking away, too shaken up to stay and talk to anybody, but Graham steps into her path and braces his hands on her shoulders to help her keep her balance.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like this, but we need to talk", he says and Emma nods shakily, glancing over her shoulder to find Killian watching them.
Graham releases her and she focuses her attention back on him, for once deciding to let Killian think whatever he wants; she knows she could talk to him until she's blue in the face, and he'd still believe what he wants.
"What's wrong?" She asks when she notices the way Graham is looking at her; it's the same look he'd given her when he came to tell her that Killian is dead. "Oh God. He's going back, isn't he?"
"He's not", Graham says, but Emma doesn't even have time to smile in relief before he continues. "I've gotten orders. Our whole squadron did."
"What kind of orders?" She asks cautiously even though she'd rather ask why is Killian staying behind.
She can't help wishing it was because of her, just this once.
"Secret kind", Graham says, and she's chilled to the bone because she knows what it means.
Dangerous kind.
"When do you leave?" She asks and he tilts his head, patiently waiting until she musters up the courage to look him in the eyes.
"Tonight", he tells her, and Emma can't help steal another glance over her shoulder.
Killian isn't there anymore.
"You could stay", she says weakly, tired of so many goodbyes, tired of waiting for the bad news.
Graham shakes his head and tells her that he can't, and all at once she realizes why Killian isn't going.
"They grounded him", she blurts out and Graham nods, his eyes flashing with pain because she can never just focus on him.
"They said that they can't let him fly the way he did on the day of the attack. He didn't take it well", Graham says and Emma has to take a deep breath in order to stop herself from chasing after Killian right this second.
"Exactly how did he fly?" She asks and Graham shakes his head, his smile showing her again how much he admires Killian.
"Most beautifully", Graham says and Emma blinks back tears, her hand reaching for his and holding on.
"I can't lose any more people", Emma tells him, squeezing his fingers, her eyes pleading with him before they blur with tears. "I just can't."
"It'll be alright", he says and pulls her in for a hug, holding her only briefly before he tells her goodbye and goes to join his squadron.
It's only after he's gone that she realizes he didn't say he would be alright.
Emma goes to see her mother, letting herself in and finding Mary Margaret on the small balcony in her apartment. It's facing away from the harbor and looking out over the city and the mountains, so there's nothing to remind them of what had happened a month ago.
The harbor still looks like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and every time she goes by and sees Arizona shimmering beneath the surface Emma wants to cry.
There are 1177 families mourning their sons and husbands and brothers and fathers, and they all had to bury empty coffins.
"Please tell me you're finally taking the weekend off", Mary Margaret says and rubs Emma's back when she sits down next to her mother, leaning into her and playing with Killian's ring.
"I don't have a choice. My supervisor told me not to show my face around the hospital before Monday", Emma says and feel a pang of panic because she doesn't know what to do with all that free time.
She knows how to take care of everybody except herself.
"Did something else happen? Is it Killian?" Mary Margaret asks, and Emma nods mutely, but she's unable to talk to her about that because it seems unfeeling to complain about the way he's treating her because at least he's alive.
A miracle had happened and her pilot came back.
Her mother's never did.
"You can talk to me, you know. I won't break", Mary Margaret says with a knowing smile and Emma looks at her, then throws her arms around her mother's neck and just holds her; she seems frail, but she returns the hug fiercely and holds Emma as she talks about all her fears and hopes until she feels that much lighter than she did before.
"I can't tell you that you're going to find your happy ending with him, but you need to keep trying. He's hurt and if you give up on him, he's going to stay broken", Mary Margaret says and Emma nods, kisses her mother's cheek and goes to see if there's anything she can do to help Killian deal with the sting of rejection.
First, Emma checks his usual haunts; the bar, the harbor, the beach she had written him all those letters on.
She doesn't think he knows she did it there, but there's still something that draws him to it, and it's comforting because despite everything, they are still that intricately connected.
The reason she knows where he spends time when he's not helping clean up all the bomb damage is because she haunts those places too, but he never lingers once she arrives.
Tonight, he's not at any of those places and she finally goes to his motel room, the same one he'd been staying in since he'd arrived on the island.
She often wonders if anything would've been different if he hadn't come on the eve of the attack, if they had more time to work things out before the bombs started falling.
Emma knocks on the door and clasps her fingers together in front of her, patiently waiting for the door to open.
"Not tonight, Swan", he yells, slurring his words a little, but the message is loud and clear.
He knows that she knows he's grounded, and he's not in the mood to talk about it.
"Please let me in", she says and keeps knocking until he pulls open the door, but he leans his arm against the doorway, effectively blocking her from coming inside.
He's wearing his uniform slacks and the white undershirt, and there's a five o'clock shadow on his jaw, making him look dark and dangerous, but it's his eyes that scare her the most; there's no light left in them.
"What do you want?" He asks her and drinks rum straight from the bottle, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallows.
"Graham told me-"
"Humbert should learn to keep his mouth shut", Killian says bitterly and glances at his hand before swirling the rum in the bottle. "But where are my manners. Would you like a drink?"
He offers her the whole bottle, and surprise flashes in his eyes when she readily drinks from it.
Their fingers brush against each other when she hands it back to him and he gives her a sideways look before going back into the room, leaving the door opened.
She follows him inside and leans against the door, frowning when she sees his uniform haphazardly discarded on the floor.
"Leave it", he says sharply, but she ignores him and folds his shirt and jacket neatly on the bed.
"Tell me what happened", she says and sits down like she has every right to be there, hoping that he's going to decide it's easier to just talk to her than trying to make her leave.
"What do you think happened?! They told me that my bloody hand is useless, which I knew already, and that they can't let me into a plane like this", he says and waves his left hand in the air, his right balling into a fist he slams on the table so hard that Emma jumps. "Any other questions?"
Emma opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off.
"Do you know what the greatest irony is? Back in France, I kept begging that doctor to save my hand, but now I realize I should've just let him cut it off, put a hook in its place and be done with it. They might've even let me fly like that."
"No, they wouldn't", Emma tells him softly and he stares at her, disbelief making his eyes go deeply blue, like the sky on a stormy day.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me", she says and goes to him, reaching for his hand for the first time since the night he'd came back.
Killian always does the unexpected, and he surprises her when he lets her entwine her fingers with his; his skin feels leathery, but not in an unpleasant way, and she squeezes gently, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand even though she knows he can't feel it.
He can see it.
"I am so very sorry, Killian", she whispers, the fingers of her free hand wrapping around his arm before she looks at his profile, waiting for him to meet her eyes.
"I lost everything, and I've got nobody to blame but myself", he says and finally faces her, her heart stuttering in her chest because they are so close she can smell rum on his breath. "I let go of you, and it cost me both my hand and my love."
"I'm still here", she tells him, hoping against hope that he won't let her go again.
"You should go, lass", he says, the term of endearment sending a shiver down her spine, his good hand reaching for her wrist and pulling on it until she releases him.
"Killian-"
"Go, Emma", he says, his voice breaking, his eyes pleading with her to leave him alone. "Leave me be."
She doesn't want to go, and she definitely doesn't want to leave him when he's like this, but what choice does she have?
He's not hers anymore and she can't take care of him if he won't let her.
"I'll come by tomorrow morning", she tells him, and considers the fact that he doesn't argue with her a victory.
The door slams shut behind her as soon as she crosses the threshold, and Emma wraps her arms around herself, walking away slowly because she knows she's walking in the wrong direction.
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