Happy Tuesday all! Seems I've been making a habit of updating on Tuesdays now, so I guess I will go with this new posting schedule. Fits a lot better in my own schedule too, haha. Here's Killian's PWV after Emma's departure. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: nope, nothing, nada...
Chapter 16A
The afghan is neatly folded and resting on the back of the couch, as if she had never been there. But her perfume still remains, his only consolation.
The book she had taken the habit of leaving on the seat of the bay-window is no longer there; probably back on the shelf where she had pulled it from. Try as he might, he can't remember which one it was, and therefore cannot share the story with her.
Her red leather jacket is no longer hanging on the hook by the door she had claimed as hers.
In the bathroom, he had gotten used to her blue toothbrush sitting beside his green one in the toothbrush holder, to the pale pink toiletry bag sitting on the counter.
He had liked to prepare meals for the both of them, and wash the dishes together afterwards. She had rearranged the pantry because she thought her way was much more logical and easy. He'd let her, not having the heart to argue that there was logic to his mess. She'd helped him rearrange the office upstairs so that more light came in from the window.
She had brought life to the house, had made it feel more like the home it is supposed to be.
And, whatever deity is up there help him; he could picture them sharing a life in that house. Which only adds to his pain and despair.
As he sits there on the bay-window seat that Emma had previously occupied, he is at a loss.
He knows deep down that Emma has feelings for him too. She hadn't exactly voiced it, but the way she had asked if he understood why she refused to give them a chance at a relationship was quite obvious.
Or when she lied to him. She may have thought she had him fooled, but it was quite the opposite. He just didn't comment because she's not ready to hear what he has to say.
Like in Galway, when she woke him up after her so called nightmare. He'd known it was a lie, but hadn't called her out on it because it would have sent her running for the hills. She isn't ready to admit her feelings. She is still in denial that something good could come from this chaos. But he'd decided to indulge her all the same, because he couldn't have resisted anyway. He'd needed to feel her beside him, in his arms. He'd known it was probably the last time he'd get that chance, so he'd let the lie slide and accepted her in his bed, however small it had been. He's a masochist that way.
The wind picks up outside, and it immediately brings him back to that day at the cliffs.
For a moment, Emma had looked so serene. She'd been magnificent with her eyes closed, a light smile on her lips, and her golden hair whipping in the wind. He'd taken a picture of her like this without her knowing, and had saved it as his background picture on his phone.
How he wishes he could have held her in his arms right then and kissed her. Or at the restaurant that same night after she'd massaged his hand. Or at the Halfway Stone. Or at the pub in Galway.
Or any time, for that matter. The entire time she'd been there, it had all felt like they were a couple, minus the official label.
He is frustrated. Frustrated at himself for not trying to push Emma to open up about her feelings. While he knows that pushing Emma isn't exactly smart, she had shown an opening at the cliffs that he should have stepped into, but he hadn't, his fear of being rejected dominating. He does love the woman, but he still has a sense of self-preservation left.
Speaking of self-preservation… he had been awake when Emma had left the bed they were sharing in Doolin. He had felt like he was in heaven as he was holding her. But he'd held himself back from pulling her into his body to snuggle some more, because he'd known she would have been even more skittish. So he'd let her go, and immediately felt cold.
He wishes he could find a way to make her believe she can trust him with her heart. He really does understand her reasons for refusing a long distance relationship, but they wouldn't be apart for long. At least, he hopes so…
The doorbell rings. He looks at the front door through the bay-window and sees Robin, Regina and Roland are there. He curses silently, having lost track of time. Roland notices him in the window and waves energetically at him. Killian grins and waves back.
The lad never fails to make him smile.
He walks to the front door and lets his friends in.
"I gather from the lack of food smell that you haven't started on dinner?" is Regina's greeting.
"Hello to you too, Regina," Killian replies, taking her coat and hanging it on the hook beside Emma's.
He really ought to stop thinking of that hook as hers…
Regina gives him a once over and her eyes soften slightly.
"I'll make some lasagna," is all she says before she makes her way to the kitchen.
Killian is grateful that she doesn't comment on his state. He knows he looks awful, but he hasn't had the heart to do much since Emma's departure the day before.
"Roland, why don't you go and see if Regina needs any help?" Robin asks his son joyfully.
"Okay!" the lad exclaims before running in the same direction as Regina.
"Come on, mate," Robin lightly pushes Killian into the living room.
They sit at opposite ends of the couch, Killian facing the window and just looking outside. Robin turns on the television and watches a football game for a while. Usually a fan of the sport, Killian finds that he can't even find interest in it today.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Robin asks after a while, clearly growing frustrated at Killian's lack of conversation.
"Wondering just about the same thing, mate," Killian responds quietly.
"Did you and Emma not part on good terms?" his friend asks hesitantly.
Killian shakes his head no. "Quite the opposite, in fact," he adds. "It even seemed like she didn't quite want to leave."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"I suppose. If she could just admit to her feelings."
"She'll come around," Regina suddenly speaks from behind him.
She approaches and hand both him and Robin a beer.
"Just give her some time," she adds before leaving the room.
Killian is at a loss at to what to say to that.
"I agree with her," Robin pipes up.
He raises and eyebrow in question.
"I observed Emma, the few times we were all gathered together. I could see it in her eyes, how much she likes you. She's different from Milah. She isn't selfish; she didn't want you all to herself. But she'd always remain close to you. Every time you came over for dinner, she actually engaged in conversation with Regina. They even spent a day together shopping, for god's sake. Regina wouldn't have invited her if she hadn't liked her."
Killian looks thoughtfully at his friend for a moment, then nods, accepting what he is saying.
"I appreciated her patience with Roland the night of her first dinner with us," Robin continues. "And I must admit I was impressed by how she stood up to me."
Killian can't help but smile proudly at that.
"Aye. You were being a downright arse, mate. She's a strong lass that doesn't take shit from anybody."
"I gathered as much," Robin comments with a chuckle.
Killian chuckles along with his friend, his mood improving slightly.
"So," he adds teasingly, suddenly realizing, "you approve of Emma?"
Robin mockingly glares at him before nodding. "Aye. Still, be careful, Killian. But I've never seen you happier than when you were with her. I hope things will work out."
"Thanks, mate."
Robin nods before turning his attention back to the game on the screen. This time, Killian is able to focus on the game, and they cheer when their team scores.
"How are the wedding preparations going?" he asks during a commercial break.
"Quite well," Robin answers, picking at the label on his beer bottle.
Killian frowns, this anxiousness not typical of his friend. "Out with it, mate," he demands.
Robin sighs. "I was wondering if you would agree to be my best man. We've been friends a long time, Killian, and-"
"Of course I'll be your best man, mate," Killian interrupts him. "I would have questioned your sanity if you hadn't asked me," he adds teasingly.
"Very funny. Will you bring a date?"
Killian's proud smile fades at that.
"I don't know, mate. I would like nothing more than to ask Emma, but I'm not sure how she'll take it. She's made it subtly known that she has feelings for me, but she refuses to act on them because of the distance between us."
"It could be the perfect occasion to woo her," Robin comments. "She liked Ireland, correct?"
Killian nods but doesn't add anything else. He doesn't know what to say. He wants to be with her, desperately, but is he willing to leave everything behind – again – for a woman?
-K&E-
Later that week, as he is getting home from work, he drops his keys on the ground. A flash of neon green flashes in his eyes as he bends down to retrieve them. Standing back upright, he notices it is the keyring Emma had given him, and his memories rush back to the surface.
FLASHBACK
It is Emma's last night in Ireland and she seems melancholic. Killian hopes that dinner with Robin and Regina will cheer her up at least a little.
After dinner, as they prepare to leave, poor Roland is heartbroken when Emma tells him she is leaving. A promise to come back finally gets him to let go of her.
Killian teases her that she has found a new best friend on the way back to his house, but all he gets is a small smile in response.
She joins him on the living room couch after, he notices, she has changed into her pajamas.
And suddenly, a neon green heart with what seems to be a sheep designed on it appears in front of his face.
"Bloody hell," he grounds out. "What is this, Swan?"
Emma giggles. "A keyring," she answers innocently.
He raises an eyebrow at her. "A keyring with a bloody sheep on it."
She nods, grinning widely. "It's for you."
He narrows his eyes at her playfully. "For me?" he repeats.
She nods again.
"And why would you give me a keyring with a bloody sheep on it, Swan?" he asks.
"Because I know how much you love them?" she answers questioningly.
He growls and she squeals as he pounces and starts to tickle her.
END OF FLASHBACK
He meticulously removes the dirt from the wool before inserting the key in the lock.
She had left the keyring on the coffee table for him to find before they left for the airport the next morning. He'd turned it around and around in his hands for several minutes before finally relenting and attaching it to his house key.
It serves as a reminder of the wonderful time he'd spent with her, as proof that she had actually been there, that it wasn't all a dream. Her presence in his country – in his house – had only cemented his feelings for her. And now, knowing that his feelings are not completely unrequited gives him hope.
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