Maze: Part II

Chapter Five: The Beginning of Our End

A/N: Thank you so much for your support, your reviews, your follows and your favourites. It really means the world that you like my fic so much! And I'm really sorry, I tried to update last weekend but it just was not happening! So have some sick!Killian :*

(Sorry if there are mistakes, I'll go over it tomorrow but I just really wanted to get it posted before the new episode)

Cathatores: Present

When Killian arose a couple of days later, he did so with a burning throat and a blocked nose. Cursing half-heartedly, he rolled to his side hugging his sheets closer to his chest trying to bury himself in their warmth. That was until he sneezed violently, the sound scratching painfully along his throat. Another croaky curse followed.

He had been expecting this for a while now as it was always when the leaves went their dark oranges and passionate reds, the time when he was most happy to be alive just to be able to see their beauty, that he was knocked down into a sniveling excuse for a man by a simple illness. He also knew he would have to get up soon as he was doing the morning shift and Killian could only hope that he could tame the sickness for those few hours until he could crawl back into bed and hopefully awaken before Emma arrived in the evening. If she came, that is. There had been one occasion two days ago in which she didn't, leaving him with a carelessly heavy heart as he locked the tavern doors. She had returned the next day as sarcastic and gorgeous as always as if nothing had ever happened. He had grasped it as an opportunity to scoop up his dignity and pride by also pretending that he did not spend hours waiting for an engaged woman to turn up at his doors.

Eventually, Mel knocked and her muffled voice came through the wood as she said, "Bathroom's free."

That was his queue, pulling himself out of his bed and into the cool surroundings, he opened the door and trudged across the hall to the bathroom. As he washed up he couldn't help but let his mind wander to Emma, just allowing himself to enjoy the thought of her and her long hair which framed her face like a dazzling halo, her bright teasing eyes and the quirk of her lips when he sent an innuendo her way.

He knew exactly where this was heading and every single sane part of him was screaming for him run as far as he could from the hurricane that was Emma Swan because he was happily rooted as he was and did not need to be turned upside down and thrown into chaos. However, despite of all of this he didn't go because she was a drug and he couldn't resist coming back to taste her fiery sweetness.

He sometimes indulged himself in the thought that she shared the same feeling because why else would she be returning to have drinks with him (almost) every night? But then her fiancé's name would echo off her lips at unexpected moments and a stone would drop in his stomach and he'd have to swallow back his hatred by taking a drink of his rum. Sometimes her eyes would flicker to his jaw as if she noticed it tighten as he clenched his teeth but then her in only a moment later her gaze would be elsewhere and he'd never be sure if he imagined it or not.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered darkly as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. "I've only known the bloody woman a week."

Yet it seemed so much longer and she seemed so familiar. He even recognised and knew things about her he never realised he knew. Like when she is on edge she plays with the cuffs of her sleeves, rubbing the material between her thumb and forefinger. (Killian was tempted to run through the whole list of her personality traits and nervous habits but he was afraid he would even manage to scare himself with his unreasonable infatuation with the woman.)

"Hurry up in there, Killian!" came the grumpy call of Finn as he made his way down the stairs towards the bathroom.

"Give me a sec, mate," he called back before splashing water onto his face, hoping to sooth the uncomfortable grogginess which had clogged up his systems. He dragged out a sigh, this was going to be a long day.

Blue eyes shone like beacons in the cloudy darkness, calloused fingers brushed against her arms. Hot lips kissed and sucked against her neck, sighing her name like a prayer. "Emma, oh my Emma." A shiver drove through her, jolting through her heart. Her fingers tangled in dark hair, drawing his mouth back against hers. Fierce and unforgiving. Her breaths came out as laboured gasps, drinking in his smell and letting her consume her. Salt. Sea. Rum. Hers. All hers. No one could tear her away from him. The memory of him was burnt into her heart, she could not forget him. He could never leave her heart. His memory would crawl back to her, every time she closed her eyes his grin, his gaze and his lilting accent would all be there. Never leaving her.

"Remember me, Emma," he urged against her lips, "Don't let me go."

As Emma awoke from a hazy curtain of sleep she felt an uncomfortable weight nagging on her chest, just over her heart. She brushed her finger along her thin nightgown and she found that the spot felt hot against her cool fingertips. A name was on the tips of her lips, Killian. A frown tugged on her lips, why was she thinking of him? The handsome captain who was also a part time barman... Why was she allowing him to leave his marks on her? She raked her fingers through her messy curls, letting them fall against her bare freckled shoulders and down her back. Suddenly with that movement the image of him lying next to her, pressing chaste kisses on the soft skin of her shoulders scorched through her mind. She shook her head violently, she wouldn't let a silly infatuation control her. She was getting married for God's sake. She pulled herself out of bed, leaving the blue-eyed devil behind her.

Yet the nagging on her chest remained, making her irritable and short tempered for the duration of the morning. Her younger sister, Martha had called it out twice asking if Emma would not be so "sour faced" to which she just grumbled into her breakfast. By midday Emma had decided to fall away from her sociable family and into the sanctuary that was her garden. She had curled up on her white cushioned swing-seat with a book, the afternoon sun shooting ribbons through the gaps in between leaves. However sitting on a swing-seat only reminded her of Killian and her first encounter with him during the party. The irritation in her chest seemed to multiply at the image of his cocky grin. She took in a deep breath and counted to ten. 1, 2, 3, 4-

"Oh fuck it," she swore, snapping her book closed and rising from her seat. It was a couple of hours earlier than when she'd usually appear but she could no longer ignore the feeling that she had to go see him, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She rushed through her house, grabbing a cloak and throwing the hood over her head.

"Emma?" her mother called, padding out of the tea room, "Where are you going?"

She had her hand on the doorknob. "I'm going to see a friend. They need me."

Her mother tucked a brown curl behind her ear, "Are you sure you need to go, Emma darling? It's nearly lunch time and-"

"I'm sure, mother," Emma insisted, opening the door, "Tell father I'm sorry I missed lunch." Her mother sent her a hesitant smile and nod of approval before the younger woman allowed herself to slip out of the door and into the crisp autumn air. As her she made her ways through the squares and streets, her shoes clipping on the stone, she ducked her head low, not allowing anyone to see the golden curls that hung under her hood. It was imperative that no one knew who she visited and where, for if her fiancé caught wind of it he would surely drag Killian into the deepest and darkest parts of Cathatores' prison cells. She slipped into a side ally, the routine so implemented into her mind she almost did it on autopilot. As she turned onto a wider street a small seed of doubt started to grow in her mind, its roots trying to get hold of her determination. What if this was all in her head? How foolish would she look waltzing into his bar in the middle of day as if to spell out her obsession over a man who might not even care about her like that. The swinging sign of the Wayward Dragon was growing bigger, and the nagging at her heart seemed to lessen with every step she took, every step that brought her closer to him.

Hesitating only slightly before opening the door, she walked in, the familiar musk and warmth enveloping her. Her eyes fixed onto the bar, noting the red haired owner of the tavern standing behind it. She had only briefly met Finn Samuels a night or so ago but that didn't stop her from heading towards him with one quest in mind. She needed to have her curiosity quenched. "Mr Samuels?" she asked, watching the mild mischief dance behind his eyes.

"I assume you're looking for Killian," he said with a small grin. She nodded, feeling the sheepish under his gaze. "He's got a bad fever and is up in his room. I don't think he'll be coming down anytime soon."

Without a moments pause- "I'll go to him. I'll help take care of him," she offered.

He seemed pleased but not entirely surprised by her response. "That's very generous of you, m'lady. He needs to be cooled down. Here-" he passed her a cloth, "It needs to be put under cool water. Of which you can find in a basin opposite his room which is on the second floor to the left."

"Thank you, Mr Samuels," she said. As she turned to go up the stairs she found a curious smile drifting across her face. Was the irritation she had felt all day because of his illness? Or was it just an coincidence? Because now she felt no such irritation as before but only the desire to see him and nurse him.

After she had soaked the cloth and wrung it out she headed to Killian's bedroom, only to bump into a brown haired woman. "Oh God, sorry," Emma apologised. As the woman's eyes met hers they widened and her cheeks paled, her mouth falling open. "I'm sorry, is there something wrong?" Emma asked hesitantly, confused at the horrified look that faced her.

"Uhum n-no! Of course not, I just didn't expect to ever see you here, Miss Swan," the woman faltered, looking up at the blonde with apprehension.

Emma passed her a mild smile, "You know who I am, I see."

She smiled back, "Yes, I've seen you with Ga-Lord Harthorn. Such beauty is hard to forget."

"And who would you be?" Emma asked, picking up on the woman's slip up.

"Mr Samuel's wife, Melody, but everyone called me Mel," she replied.

Emma scanned her, "And how to do you know my fiancé?"

"He is my boss, I work with him down in the Rehabilitation Centre," Melody explained.

"That's why you look so familiar," Emma said, a warmer smile gracing her lips. "But I should go, I'm tending to Captain Jones, you see."

"Yes," she replied, "Of course you are." And before Emma could ask what on earth she had meant by that, the brunette had slipped past her and out of sight leaving Emma with a soggy rag completely bewildered.

Killian was awash in feverish wave, his sheets lay tangled around his legs through constant twisting and turning. Coughs ripped along his throats, deep and heavy from within his chest as if he was coughing up his own heart. Only a few hours earlier Finn had sent him back upstairs, deeming him unfit for work, Killian had tried to argue against it but the fit of violent coughing that broke through his speech convinced him to retreat to his room. Now all he could think of was Emma and how much he missed her teasing smile and bouncing curls. And he cursed with his whispering voice because he doubted he would be able to walk by the evening, meaning he could be missing a meeting with her. He couldn't stand the thought, every moment with her was as precious as the sun her golden locks resembled. She was bliss, she was clarity in the crazed fog that was his life. He had been stuck in his life, empty and now he was swept away, his every breath was for her. Yet he doubted that she felt the same way. She had already found a life with another and he had no chance with her. But no matter how hard he grabbed and clawed he was falling fast, hurtling down into a abyss, from darkness and into light.

A knock sounded at the door, dragging him from his fumbling thoughts. He tried to call out but all that came out was a gravely and quiet grumble. He heard the door creak open and he turned towards the sound, his eyes fluttering open. His mouth parted into a rosy 'o', an angel was standing at his door with jade eyes and a warm smile.

Her voice came like salvation. "You know to be a good drinking buddy, you need to at least be a reliable alcoholic," she teased.

Killian grinned, a small laugh climbing its way up his throat but before he could make a sound viscous coughs cut across him, shaking his body. He hissed with pain but soon found a cool cloth was being pressed against his forehead. "You need to sit up," Emma insisted, helping him as he hoisted himself against the bed frame.

"Well you're here now, just bring us up a bottle of rum and we can go on like normal," he replied.

She sent him a look, "I am not letting you drink."

He shrugged playfully, "You were the one complaining, Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes and he had to question, was he hallucinating? With that thought she laughed, her white smile dazzling him, "No Jones, you're not hallucinating."

...

"I said that out loud didn't I?"

Teehee, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and leave a smile on my face