Another chapter finally! So I had three chapters completely ready to upload... and then I lost my phone... I saved this one on the computer but did not manage to save the other two, so the updates for those will not appear on a weekly basis unfortunately. Enjoy this chapter!
"I don't know." Gwen sighs looking at her boots, as she stands at the plank connected to the Jolly Roger. Her three friends look at her with matching scowls.
"You promised!" Ashley whines.
"You are not backing down on me now, little Jones." Ruby crosses her arms over her red blazer. Her red lips contradicting the frown forming on her brow.
"Guys... I don't think is right." Mary Margaret speaks up.
"Oh my God, it's not like we are committing a crime. I even have Billy scouting for us." Ruby snaps.
"We're breaking and entering!" The school teacher gasps. "In what country is that not illegal?"
"Look, we're just... remodeling...and deceiving."
"We are bloody forcing them back together that's what!"
"No one is being forced to do anything. You saw the looks they were giving each other at the diner. They want to rip each other's clothes off and..."
"Save me the details!" Gwen hisses, trying to burn that image out of her mind.
"Emma made it very clear that she does not want him back." Mary Margaret states.
"And what were her eyes saying?" Ashley probes in a dream like voice.
"Gwen, you have wanted Chris out of Laurel's cage for God knows how long, and since Ashley's a mother, I'm too much for him to handle and Mary Margaret is clearly not his type..."
"What do you mean not his type?"
"You know, dangerous, mysterious and sexy..."
"I can be that..."
"Anyway!" Ruby interrupts. "That leaves his lovely Emma Swan, the woman he is utterly head over heels for, that he will carry in his strong muscular arms into the sunset."
"Someone's been staring at my brother's arms too much." Gwen snickers and Ruby gives her a wicked smile. All three women stare at the dark hair, green eyed girl, who finally rolls her eyes and gives in. "Mother told me never to give into peer pressure and yet..." She hops onto the small ship, the wonderful gray hues of the cloudy sky blending them from the casual wondering eye. The keys easily glide into the hole and with a simple rotation of her wrist, Gwen is inside, her companions trailing behind her, dumping sacs of supplies for their rebellious scheme. "So how in the blazes do we concoct this scenario? I'm not the hopeless romantic."
"Rose petals, candle lit dinner, scented oils... oh and fondue!" Mary Margaret squeals excitedly, pulling said materials from her bag.
"Guess we know how you and David spend your free time together." Ruby grins wolfishly, she places to paper bags emitting hot steam upon the small table for two, as Mary Margaret causes the room to snow red rose petals, a trail leading to the double bed where she tries her best to shape a heart.
Gwen sighs again, lighting up a few white candles at the table, and setting Champaign flutes at each end.
"So what's for their dinner?"
"Codfish with a side of beans, Granny's famous chili, you know the good stuff."Ruby unpacks the food.
"Brilliant." Mary Margaret smiles at her friend.
"Well, Emma does love breaded fish, and your brother is obsessed with chili. I remember a time he and Graham had six bowls each." She laughs, lighting the candles.
Ashley makes her way to the small stereo by the bed.
"Bon Jovi or Sting?" She giggles.
"Oh for God's sake, gimme that!" Gwen snaps. "My brother is not a lovesick sap." Her three friends stare at her, unconvinced. "He isn't! Emma's just his weakness!" She tries. Groaning, she pops in one of her own CD's with songs she listens to on her gray days.
"Oh yes this is better..." Mary Margaret rolls her eyes. "Such a romantic..."
"Music is not important." Ruby groans.
"Music sets the mood!" The raven haired woman protests.
"Let's just call Graham and tell him to be ready. Can you handle what's about to come Gwen?"
"Of bloody course!"
"And Henry will be here in five." The school teacher laughs.
"Alright let's trap these two birds."
It occurs unexpectedly for the fifth time that week. Emma cringes as quick feet stomp upstairs, bringing upon the house a rumbling earthquake. The girl emerges from her room, a frown accompanying the delicate features of her face, eyes golden like raw honey and hair dark as coal. A perfect blend of her parents. she stomps downstairs past Emma, who hurriedly runs in front of her.
"Kid..." She tries to calm the flaming eyes that sear into her.
"I am not your kid!
"Don't you dare walk away from me young lady. I raised you as my own! Stop ignoring me!"
"Why not?!" She screams, scrunching her brows together. "I used to idolize you, you know that? I thought you were like a mother to me, and now I know the truth! You're just my papa's mistress! Whore!"
"That is enough." A voice booms. Emma looks up to see Chris red with dark eyes, looking at the girl with an identical offensive glare. "You will not talk to..."
"What? My mother? Emma Jones may be your wife, but she is not my mother. Laurel Harvart is. Everyone talks at school, about how their parents are in love, I can't. Because she" She points an accusatory finger at the blonde. "Got in the way between your love for mama" She runs past the couple with a duffel bag at hand, through the front door.
"Sweetheart," Chris practically cries, the cold air ghosting through Emma as she feels him abandon her, for his child.
"Emma?"
The sheriff practically jumps off her desk, the incessant tapping
at her shoulder turning out to be the butt of a pencil that Graham is holding. She is still at the station, her arms crossed on the surface of the desk, proof that she was using her arms as a pillow for her slumber.
That dream teased her in the most horrid way, showing her what could happen if she remained with Chris, a happy joyful life. But then it is ripped from her, his child despising her, saddened that their mother and father do not share the love most do. In the end, it is always the same. Chris's son or daughter in tears, fleeing while he runs after them, abandoning her. It's the biggest reason why she left him, the fear of this nightmare actually occurring tormented her. And yet, a part of her is dead without him, she finds herself missing him.
"You okay?" Graham peers up at her with forest eyes.
"Yeah, just tired."
"Sure." He sounds bored, his eyes keep drifting back at the phone while she gets up and pours herself a cup of coffee.
Out of the blue, his cell phone rings, and he shoots to answer it.
"Hello? Mary Margaret? What's wrong?... HE WHAT?"
Emma abandons her mug and hurries back to her deputy.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Henry. Mary Margaret and David saw him on Chris's boat as it was floating away. He was trying to steer it." Graham rushes out, his chest rising and falling at a quick pace.
"What?!" She screams, throwing her jacket on. "Call Jones! Tell him to get me on that boat now." She sprints out the station, shocking a few pedestrians as she leaps to her bug. The tires screech as she takes off to save her son.
"Swan!" She slams the door of her car, and hurries to the boats as Chris jogs along side of her. "How did your son get on my damn ship?"
"You think I know? He was supposed to be at his session with Archie today." Emma snaps. "God this is all my fault."
"How so?" He inquires, setting up a small motor boat.
"I'm the worst mother, I gave him up, I'm not there for him." I didn't free him from Madame Mayor's clutches.
"Emma, you are the best mother Henry could ask for." He looks up at her, seriously. "Never doubt yourself, love." He hops into the boat, and offers his good hand out to her.. "Now, let's save your son."
Cautiously accepting his hand, she follows him onto the tiny vessel as he begins to pull at the motor, the strength he exhibits drawing a slightly audible gasp from her. How could he be so strong, willing to bend to her needs, to save Henry, even though they are over. It is because he loves you, her masochist mind tortures her. No, I can't, even if I need him, it's too late. He belongs to Laurel now.
"There!" Chris yells, pointing her focus towards the ship drifting slowly into deeper waters.
He directs the motor boat towards the ship, settling it parallel to the larger vessel.
"Hold on." He tells her, gripping onto the netting on the side off the ship. Thankfully it is only two meters taller than the motor boat, allowing for easy climbing. "Follow my lead." She sets her foot securely onto the netted rope, amazed at how he can climb one handed, well he is wearing the hook, but still he is pretty impressive. Focus Emma!
They manage to climb aboard, unscathed, and set to immediately finding Henry who seems no longer at the wheel, but out of sight.
"Henry!" She calls out frantically.
"He might be inside." Chris tries, and so she opens the door leading to Chris's mini bachelor pad, only to find it spruced up and no longer a man cave, rather a seduction zone.
"Now Henry!" A female voice yells, and Chris and Emma dash out only to see Henry jump onto the motor boat, followed by Gwen, who releases the rope attaching the two boats together.
"What the hell?" Emma exclaims. "Gwen Jones what are you doing with my son?"
"You two love kittens need to sort things out, isn't that right Henry?"
"Aye Aye Captain." He mock salutes.
"Henry!" Emma scolds.
"Sorry Emma, but... she's right."
Gwen, still grinning like a maniac, pulls at the motor, while Henry idly plays with the strings on his life jacket.
"Gwendolyn Jones don't you dare!" Chris roars, enraged yet slightly amused by these proceedings.
"Have a nice talk. Heard you like codfish." The engine pierces air and water as they disappear from view.
"I can't believe she did that." Chris rubs the back of his neck furiously. "I'm so sorry, love."
"It's not like you planned this with her." Emma looks at his reaction very carefully, analyzing his next words. "Right?"
"Oh course not! I would never do anything to put your boy in harm's way! He says, almost offended. He marches up to the helm, attempting to right the course.
"You okay there, Captain?" Emma jokes.
"Captain?" Chris frantically tries to steer the boat around, when he notices that the engine is empty. No gas. "God dammit! That little wench!"
"Look, I'm calling Graham, you call your sister." Emma directs, because of course the ship is close enough for cell reception but too far away to jump and swim.
Both angrily attack their phones in order to reach the two possibly conspiring rascals to rectify this issue.
"Ah... I was wondering when you'd call Christopher." Gwen greets like the leader of some mafia.
"What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Ship!"
"Relax, I have the gas in a jug, and your precious Jolly is anchored. All you have to do is work your charms on the living woman before you."
"You and I are going to have a nice chat, little sister."
"Looking forward to it lover boy." He angrily hangs up with her and looks to Emma turns to him.
"Graham says he's going to send Leroy out to come get us, but given he's smitten with the culprit, I'm sure he's going to delay it." Emma growls, shoving her phone in her pocket. Her arms immediately encircle her torso, the leather jacket defeated by the chill brought by the ocean breeze. Chris takes his own jacket off and places it on her shoulders, her body stilling at the affectionate action, but then relaxing into his body heat still residing in there. "Thanks." she whispers.
"We should get inside, it's not going to get any warmer today." He tells her, and she looks weary at the idea of getting into the romanticized room with a bed and candles, but it is not as if she could just wait outside, in her jacket, thin leggings and tank top. So, nevertheless, she follows him inside, taking in the effort that apparently Henry, Gwen and Mary Margaret put in, as the Arctic Monkeys lull them.
"Laurel is going to be wondering where you are." Emma says lowly, the warm food emitting smells that stir the beast in her stomach.
"She probably is." Chris says in a sad voice. He looks hurt, pained even, but it's her fault. She attacked him, lied to him and pushed him away. Yet he came to her distress call. He still loves you. "Swan, I..."
"I'm sorry." She cuts him off, quickly glancing up at him, to see his reaction. "You don't deserve the cruel words I threw at you."
"But I deserved the truth." He says, looking away.
"Do you really believe that I hate you?" She whimpers.
"Don't you? I impregnated another woman."
"She took advantage of you..." His small chuckle cuts her off. Unconvinced at her sudden revelation of his innocence if the matter, he wonders why she sways like a pendulum in her emotions.
"Why are we talking about this?" He asks impatiently.
She pulls up the chair and sits down, watching his delayed mirroring of her.
"Because... I don't want us to be... well, like this." She motions in between them, surprised to find him digging into his plate. "Really?"
"We're stuck here for God knows how long." He justifies, "and I'm hungry."
She sighs and takes a bite out of her own plate, practically moaning at the taste of fresh cod. Chuckling lightly and she shoots him a questioning look.
"You're going to give me the bloody 'let's be friends' speech, aye?" He raises his brow in sarcastic amusement.
"Do I wanna know, if this feeling flows both ways."
"Is there something wrong with that?" She tests.
"No." He says in between bites. "Except I don't want to be your bloody friend Emma."
"Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay."
"Why the hell not?" She slams the fork back on her plate, and he seems surprised by her reaction, and so is she, standing up abruptly and turning so he can't see her face.
"You know why." He growls, following suit.
"Because you're in love with me? Still? You have Laurel!" She screams, food forgotten. Scoffing at that idea she turns back around to face him. To judge his response.
"Crawling back to you, ever thought of calling when you've had a few, cause I always do."
"Love isn't something that can be transferred to another." Irritation conquers his face.
"Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."
"Oh please, I saw you in the diner! You just need a pretty woman in your bed and you're happy as a champ."
"Nothing happened between us, love. It was all a ruse because I was angry! I was trying to hurt you like you hurt me!"
"And now?" Emma snaps
"Now, I want to take away all your pain. I want to be here for you, but not as your friend. Never as just your friend." Without warning, he is suddenly dangerously close to her, his breath mingling with hers. The animosity dialed down as the ice melts and the air heats up.
"Your baby..." Her voice is softer, weak almost.
"Won't be in a happy environment where both his parents do not share love." Blue shines like a calm ocean.
"Laurel loves you." She whimpers, a small tinge of hope that he will refute this blossoms in her chest.
"She cheated on me, that is the exact opposite of love." His hand comes up to caress her cheek and she trembles at the contact.
"People make mistakes." Her eyes close as she leans into his hand.
"Aye, and mine was letting you go and hurting you."
"I can't." She whispers.
"I know."
"I... I don't love you." Pathetic, like a used piece of trash... that is how she must look. The broken girl who could no longer love. The woman who slams that door in front of her happiness. The brat who does not acknowledge someone who will do anything for her. He deserves far better than that, someone who doesn't return his affections. Anyone is better than her.
"I know, Swan."
"But... I missed you... a lot... oh God!" His eyes light up and he opens his mouth trying to express his elation to her reveal, but nothing comes out. Instead he settles for cupping her head in his hand and leaning his forehead against hers. On instinct, they close their eyes, letting their other senses guide them, letting touch overwhelm them.
"Emma." He moans, leaning in and kissing her sensually. Emma sighs into the kiss, treasuring his taste, his touch. Her hand comes up and runs through his hair, the coarse yet soft strands tickling the tips of her fingers.
Time slows down, their heart beats drumming softly as the waves of the ocean pet the exterior of the boat, rocking it gently in a lulling motion.
"Chris." She moans in between a breath. Her walls have kept him at bay for so long, maintaining a boundary between her and the joy and life that he has provided her. The simple pleasure of being in his presence, giving light to the dull grayness in her life.
She needs him.
Now as much as any other time. Even more so given circumstances.
She wants him.
She needs him.
"Don't tell me to stop." His urging request lingering between them for an aching point in time that seems longer than it is. And she does not. He nips at the edge of her lip, and it's not playful, it's passion. She gasps in pleasure, pulling him closer to her as his kisses turn deeper, his tongue mingling with hers, to the point where they taste every inch of the other's mouth. His skin is rough and warm, arousing her to the point, where she can't get enough of it, touching every inch of his body exposed through his unbutton shirt, his neck, his chest, her hands roam all over. His explores as well, pushing her jacket off and sneaking under her top as his stump holds her head in place, a security measure, making sure that she does not escape him ever again. There is no sanity no justification of right and wrong, just pure desire fueling their every action, their reason for existence. He breaks away from her lips to immediately sink his teeth into the muscle at her neck, a possessive animal staking his claim on his mate. It draws a gasp from her as it is in the neutral zone between pain and pleasure, causing her to submit to him, allowing him more access to her neck as she leans back. Moans echo through the ship when his tongue and lips soothe the ache his teeth caused, his mouth traversing the length of her neck. Faint whispers of love and pleas for forgiveness escape him through every kiss, his pain and desperation showing, a neon sign on the darkened street. But he does not care, because right now he has his love, his Swan. This isn't another torturous dream teasing him with the thought of her touch. She is right here is his arms as he is in hers.
As he voyages towards her chest, she grabs hold onto his hair, torn between imprisoning him there and yanking him back up so she can taste him and show him what he means to her, even if it is not love. The knowledge that Laurel is living at his home kills her slowly but he is here. He came for her. He still loves her.
He licks lightly at the tops of her exposed breasts, her moan rippling through her body along with undeniable pleasure.
"Chris..." she sighs and he groans in response, kissing his way up to her left shoulder, now bare as her leather jacket decorates the floor of the small cabin. Lips and teeth attack as he pulls the strap of her tank top down, eagerly exploring the new skin, her thighs clenching of what is to come. Her hand moves and begins to massage his neck as he pulls her black laced cup down, freeing his prize and rewarding her caress by devouring it, suckling the sweet fruit that is her skin.
Her breath catches in her throat, gasping at sensations he produces upon her overly sensitive skin. The rough buds of his tongue evoking shivers down her back as the hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks spasms her muscles and she has to hold onto him tightly to prevent herself from tumbling backwards.
"Oh... oh God!"
Overwhelmed, she tugs him by the hair, effectively drawing his lips to hers, swallowing his growl for disturbing his feast. Hair ruffled, shirt pulled down and rosy puckered flesh erect in the cold air, she knows she must look at a complete disarray. Her mind is not stirred though, in fact her mind isn't functioning at all as her tongue instinctively tangles with his. Their noses brushing sensually... lovingly against each other.
Her legs give out, allowing them to plunge into the plush mattress atop the soft petals emanating a floral smell that is not close to rivaling that of them. The hook on his left arms comes up and drags lightly against her freed breast. Automatically, her back arches cold metal sparking her in the best ways possible. Her thighs clench desperate for something, anything! his hand leaves the small of her back and roams back to her shivering breast, the heat transferring as his thumb circles the tip gently. But his hook does not part from her body yet, catching onto the fabric of her tank top on her right side pulling it and her bra down viciously, leaving her now fully naked from the waist up.
"If I had two hands." He murmurs, but she stops his words with her lips, and he slowly back them up against the wall taking the hint. His hips press into hers, she no longer needs to put the strain in hers, because the friction she oh so craved is now there. Her kisses become more desperate as she moans into his mouth and finally as if he can sense her distress, he reaches down, his fingers lightly grazing her just below her bone, over the cotton of her leggings and it is just enough, it...
Everything in her snaps, her kill switch hitting and a rush of light burning through her.
"Oh my... Chr...Oohhhh... Mmmmmmmm." she moans, hips continue to rock against his as she pants, her whole body and mind victims to the warmth and pleasure that he creates.
Hips stilling, he looks at her, perplexed and aroused at the same time.
"Did... did you just?" But he can sense that she did indeed the warmth and wetness gushing through the fabric of both their pants, a waterfall . He smirks slightly as he discovers the evidence.
"Shut up and kiss me." She says, her sensitive body demanding more.
"As you wish, milady." He swoops in, kissing her more sensually and loving as her hands reach the collar of his shirt and begin unbuttoning, her hands traveling the hidden planes of his chest, wandering through his dark forest hair, while his rip off her leggings.
Aphrodite and Ares take over their souls. The god of war giving into his beautiful temptress of a goddess, not a thought put in, just raw desire and lust overcoming all sanity, where Athena would have damned them forever. There is no one else in their universe. Only Emma and Chris. Not the sheriff nor the dock manager. Not a mother and not a father to be. Not the savior nor the pirate captain. Just Emma and just Chris. Beauty and the bold uniting into one. Euphoric screams of ecstasy and pleasure mixing in with Bon Jovi, Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, but those artists only background noise to the real stars of the stage evoking magic around the room.
Panting, perspirating and purring, the two drop against plush pillows, still painting the other's body with kisses and caresses as the endorphins flow through in their blissful state. Thin fingers run up and down the rippled muscles of his gleaming chest, her head rising and falling with every breath he takes, her lips moving along the sensitive skin of his nipple.
Utter bliss.
Mindless pleasure.
Sighs, sensual movements and sated bodies, his stump sweeps her blonde strands from her neck and his soft lips kiss her searing and sweaty skin. His hand smoothes along the small of her back gasping at what she has given him... what she is still giving him.
And it is beyond sex.
It is more... much, much more.
She is his.
Finally.
His prayers have been answered.
Or not...
The forgotten device on the floor of his ship rings frantically like a demon destroying his happiness.
Ice pours allover him as she jumps at the sound, neurons finally connecting... the synapse finally occurring, informing her mind of what she has done.
No...
Pouncing on her phone, she presses hard, her nail hitting the plastic screen as she answers the call.
"He... Hel.. low?" Her throat clenches, her voice trembles, panic starts to kick in, her body distancing herself from him. He does not dare draw near, sitting silently against the sheets moist from them, the music once a distant whisper now painfully screaming at them with false hope, and cheesy romantic lines.
"Hey Emma, Leroy and I are just outside. Permission to board or...?"
"Ten minutes." Emma rushes out, a full red alert blaring through her senses. "Just give us ten minutes."
"Okay, come out when you're ready." She throws the phone back on the floor, not even concerned with the very audible crack resulting from it.
What has she done? She has given into temptation of the worst kind. A taken man being the most forbidden box to open.
"No." She runs her hands through her hair and then scurries around collecting her clothes in a shameful dance. "No, no, no..."
"Emma." Chris tries, rising from the bed, his nakedness not faltering his smooth movements.
"No, no. Oh my God! No!" Tears painfully build up at he rim of her waterline.
"Emma! Stop." But her words do not tame the self loathing eating her dignity.
"What the hell did we do?!"
"Swan." He tries again.
"Oh my God, this was a mistake."
"No it wasn't!" He exclaims, worry and frantic fear forcing desperation out of him.
"How could I be so stupid?"
"Emma!" He grabs her shoulder and spins her around to face him. "This was not a mistake. It was the perfect disaster, if anything."
"No." She cries, and he wipes her cheek with his thumb. "No... this was a mistake. This was not supposed to happen."
"Then why did it? We can't bloody ignore what we have Emma."
"What do we have? A sexual relationship?" She bites. "Yeah, that's completely healthy."
"It's more than sex and you know it." He responds in a serious tone.
"Is it? Really?" Because when I see you, it's all I picture. We have no future together. We can't be more."
"So that's it? I'm just the casual romp for you?"
"Don't." She shakes her head. "Don't do that. I did not want this. I just wanted us to get along again, to be friends."
"I can't believe how stubborn you are." His hands rub furiously at his face. "A few moments ago, we were fine, Swan. We were content together after making love. One damn phone call and you're crying wolf."
She scoffs.
"A few moments ago, I wasn't thinking straight. I was confused. And yes it felt good but it's wrong, you have a family to tend to..."
"Are you saying that I took advantage of you?" Chris looks alarmed... and the only thing Emma can compare him to is a lost puppy at that instant.
"What? NO!" She shuts her eyes, wishing she could be anywhere but here. "I'm saying I made a mistake. We can never be."
Those foul, horrid words drain any light in his life away, his heart pounding against his chest, wanting to burst out and flee, because what is the use of the organ in a cold unloved body? How could this woman do this to him again, draw him in and then push him away so easily? Does she care about him? Is he just a toy to her? The ignorant pawn strung in her web of lies?
She claims she missed him, but for what? The sex? Maybe she is exactly like Laurel, keeping him around for his body and money and her convenience.
But this cannot be the case, for he has never felt the way he does about her. Surely she must feel something back, even if she hides under her many layers.
"Love..." He begins moving closer to her, but she cuts him off.
"Graham and Leroy are outside... put some clothes on so we can leave." She says, slipping on her underthings.
"No." He stubbornly stands there, pouting like a child but as naked as a man could be.
"Chris!" She warns, motioning to his jeans and slipping into her own pants, the act reawakening the delicious ache within her muscles that he created. An ache he would never grant her again.
"We're going to talk about this Emma." He says slowly and affirmatively, his confidence eliciting feelings that should not be felt.
Angered, frustrated and confused, she just wants to run. A part of her knowing that her chastity would not survive any longer confined to a room with him naked, declaring his love for her, all while the room is filled of the musky scents of them. The other part of her wanting to cry and hit herself for failing and giving into her inner most desires. But most of all her arteries fill with liquid fire at the knowledge that this does not change a thing. He still has to care for Laurel and her baby. Why can't he realize that they were doomed from the start? Why is he so naive? Why is he pushing her, making this so hard.
"Look, you want to stay? Fine! I'm leaving!" She screams, reaching for her top. They share a quick glance at each other, the garment being the bone between two dogs. Like a swimmer, she dives for it, but he's too quick, grasping the material with a cheeky grin.
"Not without this you're not." He half mocks half warns, waving his prize around.
"Give me back my shirt." She orders, jumping for it, but he raises it above her head beyond her reach.
"So you can run from me? From us? Dream on sweetheart."
She huffs, crossing her arms.
"There is no us, Chris. This was just sex, we got it out of our system, now we can go our separate ways."
"If you think that this one tryst can sate ourselves, then you're a fool. I want more than your body Swan. I. Love. You. How many times do I have to bloody spell it out for you? Why can't you accept it."
"BECAUSE! It doesn't matter! I don't love you! I never will! I'm not some pathetic girl who's going to fall in love for a taken man. You're not mine. You belong to her! To your child. Please. Just. Let me go. I don''t want you. Not like this." Not as your mistress. Hell, not even as your friend... I can't do this anymore.
"You're lying to me. Not just about this but other things as well, and I will find out one way or another. And don't bother denying it Swan... you're an open book. My open book."
Yanking her shirt from hiss hand, she marches away pulling on the top and escaping outside.
He stands there like a bloody moron naked as the day he was born. He wishes he could let her go, his beautiful Swan, but he is too selfish to do so. Strange would be the only suitable word to describe her attitude at that point. First she wants him, then she makes him feel like litter rolling along the filthy streets. She is sad, then angry... then sad again... And the lies, the secrets. There is do much she isn't telling him. Things are upsetting her, things that significantly not obvious. He wishes that she would let him in, confide in him. She believes that they would not work... if she only wasn't so stubborn... they could.
Sighing, he retrieves his clothing, and steps outside, getting into the motorboat alongside his love, his friendly rival and the janitor who looks between the two lovebirds suspiciously.
The ride to land is quiet.
He watches her part, silent.
The walk is mute.
Yet the noise in his head is deafening.
It screams at him as he travels back to his gloomy house, because that is all it is now. Jus a house, not a home. A means of shelter and warmth, but not comfort, where the woman he does not love sleeps and the sister he needs by his side comes by once in a blue moon. Once upon a time this was the dream. Laurel bearing his child and Gwen in a relationship, moving on with her own life. But not anymore.
Not since he met Emma.
Not since she stolen his heart.
He walks into the house, blatantly ignoring Gwen's smile and Laurel's greeting, walking straight upstairs to his room, to his suitcase and wardrobe.
"Chris?" Laurel worriedly begins, leaning against the doorway as he hauls the bags out.
"I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?" Gwen appears at Laurel's side.
"You!" Chris exclaims. He turns his attention to his sister. "You just had to bloody meddle! Couldn't leave well enough alone!"
"Alright, obviously something went wrong..."
"OF COURSE IT DID!"
"Chris." The pregnant woman whimpers. "I know you're upset, but why don't you calm down. Have something to eat..."
"I am not hungry Laurel!" He sees the woman about to burst in tears and whether from hormones or not, the man feels like villain. "Look, I know that you are trying really hard for the baby, but I can't do this anymore. I can't live with you. You don't love me and I don't love you."
Laurel eyes the travel bag carefully, lids widening and tearing up even furthur.
"You're kicking me out?"
"No." He states with a bored tone. "I am nothing but a gentleman." He gives her a mock bow than resumes his task below. "I won't kick you out, you'll be needing a comfortable place to stay. I, however, shall seek shelter at Granny's."
"Brother, do not leave..."
"You do not get to say anything! You have tampered with my ship and my love and I swear to God Gwen..." Chris furiously zips the bag close and pushes past Laurel and his sister, who bears tears of her own. Both shudder at the sound of the door slamming suddenly like a slice in the air.
Chris walks up to the building, his fist ready to strike the wood as his weaker arm bears the weight of his bag.
This is a big step.
But he needs to do it.
No matter how much he might regret it later.
Emma returns home setting her things in order as the door knocks a few times. She silently prays that Chris is not lurking behind it because anymore affection from and she will crack. It was a close call, because she almost gave into him, almost let her walls down and accepted him into her life again. But her heart cannot take anymore. She cannot risk being abandoned by him at the slight chance that he genuinely loves her.
She almost told him her plans, her darkest secrets.
All because he is her kryptonite.
Her one weakness.
She will not allow herself to love him.
It would be too painful.
Just like with Neal.
The door rattles violently again, whoever is at the other side is clearly not pleased by wait.
"Coming!" Emma squeaks, her voice raw from sobbing upstairs in the spare bedroom. She quickly takes a peek in the compact mirror by Mary Margaret's purse, silently rooting at the fact that the raven haired beauty is out with her golden haired knight in shining armor.
Please don't be him.
Please don't be him.
With a huff of courage she opens her barrier, letting out a sigh of relief.
"Miss Swan." Regina snaps, partially amused. "I don't like to be kept waiting. I am a very busy woman."
"Right. Sorry." Emma frowns. "Come on in."
The ebony haired gorgon steps into the apartment, her heels clicking madly against the hardwood flooring as she passes off a Tupperware container to the blonde.
"I was in the baking mood." Madame Mayor says with a camoflouged smile. "And I thought you might like a treat before the night's end."
"Umm... thanks." Emma wearily accepts the plastic, placing it on the island counter shadowing her.
"I was surprised to hear your call." Regina begins, while scanning the apartment for a place to sit fit for a queen. "Especially with the Jones' pining for my blood."
"Well, they have a good reason to."
"And does that reason have any evidence to back it up? Or are you just accusing me because your boyfriend is?"
"He's not my boyfriend." Emma groans. "And this is not why I called you over here."
"Really Miss Swan? Why did you?"
"You won." Emma states simply.
"Excuse me?" Regina snorts in amusement.
"You won, I am leaving, and that means Henry will be all yours."
A small smile makes its way on the mayor's face.
"Guess Graham's going to be Sheriff once again."
"Guess so."
"And when will you be leaving?"
"Tonight." The mayor's smile widens exponentially, her teeth gleaming like those of a dragon's.
"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from packing Miss Swan." She jumps up and heads back to the door. "Enjoy the treat, and do give Mr. Jones my best. I hear he's going to have a son."
Emma grits her teeth, wanting nothing more than to scream as the door shuts close and a stream re-flows down her blooming red cheeks.
The pain unreasonable.
The thoughts unfathomable.
The truth unbearable.
She needs to get Henry out of this nightmare.
Review?
If you were wondering, Gwen would be portrayed by Phoebe Tonkin and Laurel by Emily Blunt, though it was suggested that January Jones portray Laurel and I am actually in love with that idea.
Notify me if you want a spoiler ;)
I also started this Lieutenant Duckling fic that I am also updating today,
Have a nice day/night
-XoxPhoenix10