Here comes more angst and the story about the day Killian lost his hand, but it's not nearly as bad as the next chapter, so brace yourselves my dear fellow shippers. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Emma and Killian cut a path through the London social scene, spending evenings at various balls and soirees and mornings with Owen, taking him to see the sights, and when Emma is visiting her friends, Killian entertains him at home.
The ton thinks that raising a child in such a manner is inappropriate, most of them relying on various nannies and governesses to take care of their children, but Emma and Killian do not care much what people say; they both want to give Owen a loving, stable home, and that entails spending time with him.
Ruby and Elsa agree, but they also wonder if Emma and Killian plan to have one of their own, and Emma blushes fiercely when she remembers the fervour with which Killian makes love to her every night, and keeps her suspicions to herself because she wants her husband to be the first to know once she is certain that she is indeed increasing.
They have abandoned the notion of having separate bedrooms for appearances sake, and they go to bed together, dismissing his valet and her maid and helping each other with their clothes.
A week passes and Jefferson does not make an appearance, and neither do his men, so Emma relaxes even though she can tell that Killian does not. He seems carefree and nonchalant, but she catches him assessing their surroundings everywhere they go, making sure nobody is lurking about.
"Killian?" She asks over breakfast, watching her husband peruse the morning newspaper with his toast suspended half-way to his mouth.
"Yes?"
"Do you think we should go to the magistrate and adopt Owen officially?" Emma says quickly before she loses her nerve and Killian looks up, a slow smile pulling the corners of his mouth up and brightening his eyes.
"You want that?" He asks hopefully and she nods, smiling when he drops his toast and takes her hand in his. "Truly?"
"He does not have anybody else, and I cannot help consider him my child. He is so easy to love, is he not?"
"He is. I was thinking about it from the moment we arrived in town but I did not quite know how to breach the subject with you", Killian tells her and brings her hand to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles.
"Were you afraid of little old me?" She teases and Killian grows serious, his gaze turning to their joined hands as he contemplates his next words.
"I was not certain if you would agree to the idea of our first child not being the product of our love", he says and lifts his eyes to hers, and he looks so apprehensive that she abandons her chair and settles upon his lap with her arms around his shoulders.
"I think that Owen can still be the product of our love; we are going to cloth him and school him and take care of him, we are going to love him together and he is going to grow up in a fine gentleman because of that", Emma says and brushes her nose against Killian's. "We are going to have our own babies someday soon, and I think he would feel better if he knew that he is ours legally and that we will never abandon him."
"Is there something you want to tell me, love?" Killian asks, his eyes wide and his hand shifting from her waist to her stomach as he eagerly waits for her answer.
"Ask me again in a few days", she tells him and his flash when he smiles, his arms enveloping her in an almost crushing hug as he murmurs words she cannot quite understand against the side of her neck. "It is not certain yet."
"I think it is", Killian says and pulls back to caress her flat stomach, as if he can feel something with his hand even through the layers of clothes and flesh. "I think there's a wee lass or laddie sleeping in here."
"Oh stop it", Emma tells him and wipes away a few silly tears, her forehead resting against his and her fingers playing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
"Ruby's husband told me about this", Killian says and Emma smacks his shoulder, then laughs and kisses him hungrily, realizing that he is probably right.
There must be a baby growing inside her that is suddenly making her want to cry for no apparent reason.
"Can we visit the magistrate today, then?"
"As you wish, my love", Killian says and steals another kiss before he offers Emma his toast, already playing the role of a concerned father to be.
"You are going to be worse than Victor", Emma sighs and Killian grins, looking so boyish and playful that she is forced to blink away tears once more.
The visit to the magistrate proves to be a success, and he tells them to return in two days with Owen to get the final documents.
Emma feels giddy as she walks along the street with her hand resting on Killian's arm, smiling gaily to acquaintances until there's a loud bang from up ahead that startles everybody.
People turn to their companions in confusion, and at first Emma does not even notice that Killian has frozen because their carriage is arriving and the driver is putting down the steps, but then she glances at her husband, opening her mouth to ask him if he has any idea what the noise might be and abruptly closing it when she sees the look on his face.
"Oh no", she says and somehow manages to get him through the door of the carriage before his knees buckle and he gets lost in the past. "Killian, can you hear me? Stay with me, please, just stay with me."
The driver closes the door after she scrambles in after Killian, protecting them from the gawking pedestrians, and Emma kneels on the floor with her hands framing Killian's pale face, trying to bring him back from the living nightmare that has taken its hold.
It has been a while since he had had an episode, and Emma foolishly thought that the worst is behind them.
She was obviously mistaken because her husband's eyes are wide and unseeing, his hand squeezing hers with bruising strength as she keeps talking to him, hoping that the sound of her voice is going to be enough to help him.
Eventually, it is, and he blinks a few times like waking up from a dream, his blue gaze focusing on her and his fingers abruptly opening when he realizes how tightly he has been holding her.
"Swan, forgive me", he says in a broken, rough voice that sounds like he has been screaming for hours even though he had not let out a sound.
"It is alright", Emma says and knocks on the wall of the carriage to signal the driver to start, then sits on the bench next to Killian and makes him lie down with his head in her lap. "Everything is alright now."
"I have hurt you", Killian tells her and brings her hand to his lips, gently kissing each of her fingers where there are already bruises forming.
"Nonsense. You just squeezed me a little too tightly."
"I am so sorry."
"Shhh, do not worry about it", Emma murmurs and brushes his damp hair off his forehead. "It must have been a firecracker going off that disturbed you so."
Killian does not say anything, just hides his face against her stomach and remains like that until they reach home, and then excuses himself and disappears into his study for the rest of the day.
Killian does not go down for supper and he sends the maid with the tray back to the kitchen, still brooding over his failings over a glass of rum as he had been doing all afternoon.
Eventually, he has enough of the solitude, but just as he is about to go check on Owen his stump starts throbbing and he changes course, going to the library and deciding to try and lose himself in a book until the pain eases.
He knows Emma could probably help distract him, but he is feeling decidedly embarrassed for still suffering the episodes and, what is worse, doing so in broad daylight in view of half the ton.
And just when the gossipers were focusing on some other unfortunate lords and ladies.
Instead of lessening, the pain seems to only get worse until it feels like that hand he no longer has is on fire, and Killian can only sit in his armchair and grit his teeth, staring at the fire and praying that it stops soon.
When the clock strikes 11 Emma glides into the library without knocking, takes one look at him and thinks better than to give him a piece of her mind like she had undoubtedly intended to.
"Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?" She says more to herself than to him, plants herself on his lap and clicks off his hook before taking out his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeve so that she can unbuckle the brace.
"Leave it", he says half-heartedly but she gives him one sharp look and then she is back at it.
"You know as well as I do that when it hurts this badly nothing will help except a massage", she tells him and sets the brace on the table next to his hook, her fingers kneading his tender flesh gently but firmly.
"I can do it", he says and attempts to pull his arm away, but she holds on and it feels too good to argue with her; her ten fingers can do a much better job than his five.
"I think you should talk about it", Emma says when the pain lessens almost completely, but he does not say anything because it feels too good having her touch him like this.
It affects him in ways he cannot really understand, much less explain, so it takes a while until her words really register.
"Talk about what?"
"About the day you lost your hand", Emma says softly and lifts her head to meet his eyes.
"I do not think I can", he tells her and looks away because he does not want her to see the truth in his eyes.
It is not that he cannot, it is that he does not want to.
"You have to. Come on, at least try. It ought to help you", Emma tells him and stops the massage, but keeps caressing his scarred skin, giving him quiet support.
"Swan, please. I do not want to remember."
"But you do remember, Killian. You remember every detail, and until you share them with somebody it is going to keep haunting you", Emma says and pulls back, her little half-smile cracking his walls. "Take a leap of faith and just tell me."
One look into her green, earnest eyes and his resolve breaks, words pouring out of his mouth seemingly without end.
He tells her how the weather was bad, and how the attack came seemingly out of nowhere. He tells her how a cannonball killed two of his sailors before claiming his hand too, and how he was in such a shock that he scarcely felt pain.
"I just wrapped a piece of cloth around the end of my arm and kept shouting orders until the ship was too badly damaged for anything to keep it afloat", he says and closes his eyes at the onslaught of memories, of sights and sounds that to this day fill him with a chill that seeps deep into his bones. "There were so many casualties, men screaming and calling for their mothers, and there was not a damn thing anybody could have done to help them. And that was before the ship caught fire."
He thinks that Emma might be crying, but he realizes that she was right; he needs to get all this off his chest.
"I did not want to abandon ship when the time came, because I knew for a fact that there were still sailors below deck and I was taught that the Captain is supposed to be the last one saved, or not be saved at all", he says, his lips twisting into a wry smile at his misplaced sense of honour.
None of his lads would have wanted him to die just because they had to.
"I must have blackened out because when I came to I was draped over a plank and Kristoff was trying to keep my head above water."
"He saved your life", Emma says softly and Killian nods, his hand absentmindedly rubbing her back because he had not seen her look this sad since the day her father had died.
"He did. I cursed him for it for about two weeks after the surgery on my stump, but eventually I came to feel grateful that he had kept me alive."
"I am so glad he did", Emma whispers and rests her forehead against his, sniffling a little and smiling when he lifts his hand and wipes her wet cheeks.
"Thank you, love."
"For making you remember that awful day?"
"For being here and listening", he tells her and brushes a lock of hair away from her face. "And you were right. I do feel better now that I have shared the burden of my memories with you."
"So I was right?" Emma asks him with a twinkle in her eyes and Killian chuckles, then dips her over and kisses her until they are both breathless. "I think it is time for us to retire."
"I think you are right", Killian says and carries his wife to their bedroom.
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