Hello, my darlings! I come bearing an update, finally! Thanks once again go to my bestfriend/soulmate Lanni babe, for just being an overall stellar human being who makes my life a brighter place and always inspires me, as well as feeding my muse for this fic. PS. Trigger warning this chapter for Neal being an absolute bastard.
And thanks to Ann too, for giving this chapter a thumbs up when she read through the draft version.
We're on the home stretch now! Only two more chapters to go after this!
Lilac Wine
Chapter 21
It was supposed to be a quiet Thursday evening for Emma. She was supposed to wrap herself in a blanket in front of the TV, a steaming cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon at the ready, and lose herself in Shondaland. She certainly wasn't meant to have her douchebag of an ex-boyfriend hammering on her door, clearly drunk and yelling her name for all of Los Feliz to hear. But that's exactly what was happening.
It had started out with a civil ringing of the doorbell, and Emma had absently wondered who had dared to drop by unannounced right before Grey's Anatomy started. Switching on the porch and hallway lights, she approached the door and peered through the peephole...and her stomach immediately dropped.
Neal was quite clearly drunk off his ass, swaying and gripping the door frame to help him stay upright. When the light came on he grumbled loudly and slurred out Emma's name, thumping his fist against the heavy oak door. On the other side, Emma stepped back, arms folded with a scowl on her face. She was in no mood for this, especially not while he was intoxicated. She knew he got extra mouthy and lost his temper much faster when drunk, and she simply didn't have the energy or inclination to deal with it.
"Go away, Neal. I don't wanna hear it. Just leave me alone."
She called through the door. For a moment she was met by silence, but then he thumped on the door again, attempting to cajole her into opening the door. When she didn't respond and the door remained firmly shut, he pounded against it harder, his tone growing harsher and louder the longer his demands were ignored.
"Babe, just fucking lemme in. We needatalk."
He was slurring and rattling the door, punctuating it with the dull thuds of his fist against the wood. Again, long moments passed and she could almost feel his irritation mounting through the oak barrier between them. After a tense silence, he yelled her name angrily and she gave a start, stepping further back, as though his drunken state could somehow miraculously afford him a burst of strength that would have him smashing through the door. She knew that was ridiculous, but the man was persistent.
"Emma, I swear to fucking God you better open this fucking door 'fore I smash it down!"
He yelled venomously, and despite the fact that she knew her house was safe, his threats still had her heart beating that little bit faster. She snatched her phone up from the dresser in the hallway but before she had the chance to hit call and summon the police, she heard her car alarm beginning to screech from the driveway. Her blood ran cold and, with the phone still gripped in her hand, she ran through to the kitchen, peering out of the window to see him sloppily swinging the garden hoe she assumed he'd grabbed from around the side of the house where her gardener, Sarah, usually left her equipment, and watched in horror as he smashed the car's windows.
With shaking hands, she hit call and kept her eyes glued on Neal as he subjected her car to more damage, the dialtone in her ear seeming to go on forever before an operator finally answered.
"911 what is your emergency?"
"Hi, I need help- I...uh...my ex-boyfriend is smashing up my car. He's drunk and threatening me. I need you to send someone to 4447 Cromwell Avenue, Los Feliz, 90027. Please. Please, just...send someone right away, he's scaring me."
The woman on the other end of the line immediately ran it through to dispatch and was calm and reassuring as she informed Emma that the police were on their way. She thanked the woman and declined her offer to stay on the line until the cops arrived. Once she'd hung up, Emma edged toward the front door. Neal had done a pretty stellar job of destroying her car by the sounds of things and she made a mental note to be pissed about that tomorrow, once she was over the initial shock. Thankfully, her beloved Bug was parked in the garage round the back of the property, protected from Neal's temper, but she didn't exactly welcome her Kia SUV being smashed to oblivion.
Hesitantly peering through the peephole again, she saw him moving back toward the door, garden hoe still in-hand as he staggered up the porch steps. Instinctively, Emma stepped away from the door once again, heart racing as she heard the unmistakable sound of the wood hitting wood.
"Stop it, Neal! Christ, just stop it! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
She yelled, cursing the edge of fear she could hear in her own voice. The banging stopped and she held her breath as silence descended for endless seconds.
"You don't get to leave me, you little bitch. I made you. I fucking made you. And then you go and skip town to shack up with some accented prick and make me look like an idiot? OPEN THE DOOR."
Emma was half tempted to throw open the door and give him a piece of her mind, her blood thrumming with anger at his words. She'd been doing her utmost not to think of Killian. As fruitless as that endeavor was, it was the only way she'd been able to carry on and overcome the urge to jump on a direct flight back to England. But hearing Neal badmouth him had her clenching her fists at her side and gritting teeth, holding back the vicious retorts she was so tempted to hurl at him.
He'd always treated her like a possession, and she'd been oblivious to it. She interpreted his possessive streak as him being protective of her. But she was an asset to him and that's why he'd kept her close; it was becoming clearer with every desperate attempt he'd made to get her back. When asking nicely and attempting to sweet-talk her back had fallen flat, he'd dropped the charade and let his real colors show.
After long minutes of silence, every muscle in Emma's body tense as she kept her eyes glued to the front door, a shiver slithered up her spine and she frowned. He'd been awfully quiet for a while considering his earlier shrieking. Walking through the archway leading to her living room, she stopped dead, tendrils of fear curling sharply in her chest and lodging in her throat as she made eye contact with Neal through the glass double doors that looked out over her enclosed patio and veranda.
Despite demanding that he returned his copy of her house keys, and having her lawyer accompany Mary Margaret when she went to retrieve them, he was still familiar enough with the property that he knew its weak spots. He knew where it was easiest to scale the wall, and he'd utilized his intimate knowledge of Emma's space to take her off guard. The only thing disadvantaging him was his state of inebriation. He was unsteady on his feet and it had taken him a number of attempts to clamber around bushes and snake along the white stucco wall in order to reach a section of it that was low enough for him to pull himself up and over. He'd then stumbled across the patio and over to the glass doors leading into her living room.
Backing out of the living room and praying she'd remembered to lock the doors, Emma could feel her fight or flight response kicking into high gear, adrenaline surging through her body and panic making her chest tighten. He'd seemingly dropped the garden hoe but she didn't want to risk him losing his temper again once inside the house. She raced up the stairs, bare feet slipping slightly on the Spanish tiles. Slamming and locking her bedroom door behind her, she ran over to her balcony and threw the glass doors open. The balcony overlooked the front of the property and gave her ample view down the curved driveway. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw the police car making it's way up the hill but she waited until they finally pulled up outside the house before tentatively making her way back down the stairs.
She was reaching out to yank the door open when Neal suddenly appeared beside her and grabbed her wrist.
"You called the fucking cops on me, you little whore."
Emma yelped in surprise as he yanked her away from the door and back into the living room. Eyes wide, Emma fought to regain control of herself. She wouldn't let him see her fear, wouldn't give him that power over her. Defiantly, she lifted her chin and glared at him coldly.
"Yeah, and I'm gonna get a restraining order on you after this. I'm not scared of you, N-"
"Well you should be," Neal snarled, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath as he grabbed her face with one hand, squeezing with clear intent, "I'll ruin you, Emma Swan. Nobody makes me look like a fool, especially not a damaged little girl like you."
Before Emma even had chance to reply, the front door burst open and two cops were dragging him away from her in an instant. One reeled off his rights and cuffed him as the other approached her carefully and asked her if she was alright. The blood was rushing in her ears and she felt sick to the stomach, but she nodded numbly. The woman gently informed her that she'd need a statement, and Emma nodded again, watching as Neal was taken out and shoved into the back of the police car. He threw her one last smirk before he was safely contained inside the vehicle and Emma turned on shaky legs to face the policewoman.
"I need to call my sister."
CS
"Emma, hi- what? Whoa, slow down...wait, what? What do you mean he broke in?! Emma, are you okay?!"
Killian's ears pricked up the second he heard Mary Margaret say Emma's name from the next room as she answered her cell phone. But as he listened, his blood ran cold. He assumed the 'he' Mary Margaret referred to was Neal, and the idea of her being alone in her house when her crazy ex boyfriend broke in, a man who had hurt Emma in numerous ways and made Killian a pariah in his own country, had his heart racing with panic.
He strode into the living room, where Mary Margaret sat perched tensely on the edge of the sofa, chewing on her thumbnail, her eyes wide with worry. He didn't say a word, but when she lifted her eyes to meet his, she knew he'd overheard and didn't bother to try and mask her concern. Killian stood rooted to the spot, piecing together what had happened from only one side of the conversation.
"And the police are there with you now? You're safe?" A brief pause and then a slight flash of relief on her face barely eased Killian's mind, "Good. Has he gone? I really do think a restraining order is the best option now, Emma. I know you were hoping he'd have enough sense to leave you well enough alone but that clearly isn't the case...yes, I figured he was drunk...well, good, I'm glad they're going to throw a DUI at him as well. He deserves it. Look, I'm going to head over right now, and perhaps I should stay tonight...no, it's no inconvenience, don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't be there alone."
After a few more reassuring words, Mary Margaret ended the call and sighed wearily. Killian, by this point, had perched on the comfy chair facing her, and anxiously waited for a full explanation.
"Neal turned up at her place, drunk out of his stupid mind, and hurled abuse at her before breaking in through the backyard and threatening her. The police are there with her now and he's been dealt with. She's shaken up, as you can imagine, but she's okay."
Her voice was surprisingly even, but Killian could hear the strain behind it. He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to punch something. But he knew that wouldn't help, and he'd more than likely end up in a cast again, which he really didn't fancy considering he hadn't long since gotten rid of the first one. So, instead, he simply dug crescents into his palm with his nails and swallowed the fury that was sticking thick in his throat.
"Please tell me they're gonna throw the book at that bastard. He's put her through hell."
He all but growled and Mary Margaret nodded, scrubbing a hand across her face tiredly and standing up.
"They are, and I'll make sure of it. So will Emma. He won't get away with it, not this time. I'm going to go over there, stay the night and make sure she's alright."
Killian nodded and opened his mouth, but Mary Margaret seemed to know what he was going to say and shook her head firmly.
"No, Killian. You stay here. I'll let you know she's okay but now isn't the right time for you to appear back in her life. She's had a rough night and doesn't need anything more to process right now. I know you want to be there for her, but this is for the best. Just a few more days, I promise. Be patient."
Killian clenched his jaw again but eventually nodded. He knew she was right. Emma didn't need to deal with the emotional impact of seeing him again right on the back of a stand-off with her psycho ex-boyfriend. He didn't want that to be what she remembered about their reunion either. So he sagged back in the comfy chair and tried to reassure himself that Emma was alright now, and Neal was safely in custody.
A few minutes later, Mary Margaret called out to let him know she was leaving, the front door slamming after her, and Killian slumped even further down into the chair and flipped on the TV to see a live news story was already reporting from in front of Emma's house. The runner along the bottom of the screen gave a brief headline informing him, 'POLICE CALLED TO DOMESTIC SITUATION AT POPSTAR EMMA SWAN'S LOS FELIZ RESIDENCE'.
He immediately shut off the TV and scowled at the blank screen, anger and frustration swelling in his gut. He hated feeling useless and unable to comfort the woman he loved when she was just across town. If possible, it was even harder than being on the opposite side of the world.
CS
By the time Mary Margaret arrived at Emma's house, a throng of paparazzi and news channel reporters had already amassed out front. They clogged up the driveway and those that even bothered to acknowledge her attempting to pull up, blaring her horn and revving the ignition, simply turned to stare at her blankly before shuffling a few feet to avoid being run down.
Cursing under her breath, she edged through the crowd of vultures with their camera and sound equipment and threw the car into park. Shoving past a handful of reporters who pushed cameras and microphones into her face once they recogized her, she didn't even bother with 'no comment', opting to ignore them completely.
Pulling out her spare key, she made quick work of opening the door as little as possible and slipping inside. She wasn't about to give them a chance to sneak some pictures through an open front door. She was too well-versed with their antics to make that mistake.
"Emma? It's me, are you-...hey..."
Mary Margaret had walked into the living room and caught sight of Emma sitting with a young policewoman, who rose to stand and offered her a sympathetic smile. Emma remained seated, hands knotted in her lap and her shoulders slumped, an unreadable expression on her face. It unsettled Mary Margaret and she recalled her sister wearing that exact same expression when she'd first returned from England. Defeat and hopelessness, that's what it was.
"Thank you for the statement, Ms. Swan. If we need anything else, we'll be in touch, but this should be a pretty simple case. If you choose to press charges – and I'm not supposed to say this but I personally would urge you to do so – then he's looking at multiple counts. DUI, attempted aggravated assault, harassment, disorderly conduct, vandalism. He's looking at years in prison..."
She excused herself then, and Mary Margaret moved to sit beside Emma. She had the start of an almighty headache beginning to press insistently against her temples, so she could only imagine how Emma was feeling.
"You should take a hot bath and try to get an early night."
Mary Margaret said softly, reaching out to place her hand over Emma's, which were still knotted in her lap. But she barely reacted. After long moments of silence, punctuated only by the muted chatter of lingering reporters talking to their cameras outside, Emma sighed.
"I'm done."
She said softly, her voice so quiet that her sister almost missed it.
"I know. He's a terrible person, Emma. What he's put you through-"
"No. I mean, I'm done. With all of it. My career, living here, everything. I'm done. I need to get out."
Mary Margaret sat in stunned silence for a moment. No matter how bad things had been when she'd returned from England, her broken heart still an open wound that the world's media gleefully feasted on, she'd never mentioned quitting as an option. Quite the opposite – she'd thrown herself headfirst into her work, practically living in the studio and churning out song after song until Mary Margaret had serious concerns about her exhausting herself.
"Emma..."
She started softly, but Emma shook her head and stood up, heading toward the hallway. She stopped in the archway and sighed, addressing her sister over her shoulder without looking back, her voice void of any emotion.
"I'll do the Hollywood Bowl performance on Saturday night, and I'll make the announcement after my encore that it'll be my last. You can start cancelling all the interviews and appearances from tomorrow. Goodnight."
CS
Damn, what a bombshell huh. I know, I'm a horrible person!
Almost at the end now, friends! Thank you to those of you who have stuck with me on this story!