Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting.
Shaking his head from left to right, Killian made sure it was safe to cross the street before carefully maneuvering his car to the parking lot of the dark building standing in front of him. He wasn't too familiar with the place itself - he had had to look for it beforehand, since he hadn't had any choice as to come here.
He had been summoned, or so it seemed.
Alas, his impending meeting could be quite the match to another eventful one he had been part of that same week. Apparently, his and Emma's lives had decided to become truly memorable as of late, with all the crazy they were experiencing lately - and it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.
It sucked.
After that call from Pongo's owner - Archie, whatever, - Emma had been frazzled enough to want to come back home and attempt to drown some kind of chill pill to knock her out until she had to face the asshole that had left her so many years ago. He had known - how could he not? She was too easy to read for him, always had been, - and had offered her if she wanted to leave immediately, but she had refused, and they had somehow made it through the rest of the day along with their friends and family. She had kept on her brave face for Henry's sake, though Killian had been on edge the whole time just in case she had some kind of breakdown or something.
They needn't have bothered. It was Emma they were talking about, after all. The toughest lass he had ever met.
Though Killian had to admit that, for a little while, during that first encounter they had with her ex lover, he did see a side of Emma that he had never imagined he would.
They had agreed with Archie in meeting him and Neal in his office a couple of days later, getting ready for whatever the wanker might want to throw at her face. Emma had made sure to let Killian know she wanted him there, and he of course had been more that eager to accompany her - not only to support her, though it was the main reason. He was incredibly curious as to what this Neal guy was like, and how someone who had claimed to love and care for her would leave her in such a shameful way. Finally, they had to face the music, and he stood to the side when Emma and Neal first crossed looks in years.
He wasn't sure what he should have expected, but well, let's say he had been pretty surprised.
Albeit whatever it was that Emma had found compelling in the man back when she was a young girl, he had been far more thrown off when he noticed her and how she acted when they started the meeting. Neal Cassidy had been too cocky, too sure of himself for Killian's taste - even if he had seemed a tad apologetic when Emma spat venomously at him something about abandonment issues when he had started the topic while trying to impose his 'father figure' towards Henry. It hadn't been until their son was brought up that Emma had been squeamish, unsure, reverting to a completely different version of herself that he would have never pegged for someone like her. Killian knew enough about the story to realize now how the shock and hurt of being right in front of the man who had caused so much pain and betrayal in her life would trigger her into bringing out the young Emma who had been around the man back in the day, a younger, more naive and full of hope girl.
Who had been broken - by the same man who then sat in front of them, casually demanding to be a part of Henry's life.
Of course Emma had made clear she had no intention of letting him near her son, not now and not ever. A rather difficult to follow and complex word war regarding parenting, law and custodies had ensued, and that was when Killian - and surely Emma, of course - realized, as they had feared, that Neal was playing the betrayed father part who hadn't had the opportunity to raise or meet his son and wanted to be there for him and play a role in his life - just so he'd get the prize. Of course he'd casually drop the children care, which was the last draw for Emma who, before storming off Archie's office, let her ex know in the most threatening voice he'd ever heard her use "you'd better lawsuit up - you're not getting anywhere near my son."
Killian had followed her out and taken her to his place after that, bullying her into eating some chocolate so she'd stop frowning and muttering under her breath anything and everything she apparently had been too thrown off to say when she had been face to face with Neal - though now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure it would have been really professional, taking into account Archie would have been there too and all. They had sat together for a long time, both of them lost in thought, until Archie had called her phone to warn her that Neal had accepted and they would be seeing each other again, this time fighting for real: for Henry's custody. Of course Neal would never be able to get fully custody of the boy, but Emma wasn't willing to let him have anything to do with her son, not if it would be to gain something from her. If she truly saw that Neal was interested in being a parental figure at all, or even seemed like he remotely cared about Henry, then she would consider at least some kind of monthly visit or something, but she was completely opposed to the idea of leaving her son out of her sight with the man who had broken her - and who didn't look like had changed that much in all this time. Archie had assured her that everything pointed to her ending up victorious, as Neal's case was poor as they were; and to calm down and try to stay focused on her work and being there for Henry, and he would take care of everything until they organized the proper hearing and all the law stuff Killian was so confused by.
After her attorney's words, something seemed to snap inside Emma, and she finally let herself break down, the tension and panic she had festered inside of her for the last week overwhelming and nearly drowning her slowly pouring out of her body, leaving the shell of a broken, sad girl who had had to relive the worst time of her life and threatened by the man who took it from her in the first place. Killian held her against him until her sobs morphed to a quiet sniffing, and he made sure to make a light quip about her keeping his shirt after she had ruined it with her snot, earning him a punch in the arm - though it was far lighter that the ones she usually gave him.
And they had known that it would be okay.
At least from that front.
He hadn't wanted to tell Emma anything about where he was going right then, or the phone call he had received when they had been in Disneyland right before they were told Neal had contacted Archie. There had been too many things going on, and he hadn't wanted to worry her more than she already was. Alas, he had been instructed not to tell anybody where he was going or who he was meeting, for starters. He had been given an address and a time and place to be there, and even if Killian himself would have probably laughed it off or tell whoever it had been on the other side giving him such cryptic instructions to shove it already and leave him the fuck alone, his blood had run cold when he heard that he would do it 'if he wanted his dirty secret to be kept as it was'.
Thus, him being in the creepy building today.
He got out of the car, cautiously studying his surroundings and still trying to figure out who the hell could it be behind all of this. He had been raking his brain for the last days whenever he was not worrying about Emma and the whole Neal situation trying to piece together what it would come down to now - who he'd meet, and what would it mean after they talked. Because he was pretty sure it wouldn't be easy, nor pleasant. At least for Killian.
He made his way to the front door and after looking for the nearly hidden buzzer by its side, he waited for someone to open up. He checked his phone nervously, wondering what his mates would be doing. He had made sure they didn't have any plans for that evening just in case, and so had been the case with Emma - he had casually dropped how she would have fun along with Red Lips and Belle in some pub near the studio where the band had played a couple of months ago, and after teasing her about how come she didn't enjoy her girls nights out anymore, she had caved, always making it look like it had been her idea in the first place. Which it hadn't, of course - he had all but incepted her, but hey, he wasn't complaining. It had been his idea all along, after all.
He was brought out of his musings when there was a buzz and he pushed the door open. Stepping inside the threshold, he scanned left and right to find no one waiting for him, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. What the bloody hell was this? After all the sneaky calls and creepy indications now they stood him up?
"Why, hello, Mr. Jones."
Nearly jumping out of his skin, Killian whirled around to find a man disturbingly familiar smiling at him. "You," he said, a faint memory of the delivery man who had been at the studio with a package for Belle suddenly coming to mind.
The - what the hell was he? Not a delivery man, that was for sure - whoever it was winked at him and motioned towards one of the halls that parted from where they stood. "Care to accompany me?"
Did he really have a choice?
He was led through a myriad of luxuriously carpeted and furnished hallways and lobbies, a maze masked in elegant décor that did nothing to qualm Killian's nerves. They stopped in front of an oak door, and after knocking, a faint acknowledgment from inside was heard, and his guide opened for him, shaking his head at Killian so he'd enter. Bracing himself, he breathed deeply before stepping inside the room - to come to a halt seconds after doing so at the sight of who was sitting behind the desk waiting for him.
"Why am I not surprised you have somehow orchestrated all of this?," he nearly growled, trying to appear controlled just so she wouldn't notice the inner turmoil that was festering inside of him at her sight and the implications of what she could want with him to call this meeting.
"Well, I was always one for crafting plans, as you know." She sent him a sweet smile that did nothing but make him warier than he had earlier been. That was one of the things he had found so intriguing about her once: how beautiful, charming and sweet as she could appear, it all came iced with a layer of poison and edge that would attack you if you dared to cross her. And he had, for all that was worth in her eyes. "Hello Killian."
He sat in front of her, on the other side of her meticulously tidy desk. "Milah. What is it you want?"
She lazily caressed some papers sitting in front of her, the scratching of her painted nails making him flinch while he studied her. "Oh, you know. I overheard a little word concerning you and your barbie at Coachella that got me thinking... so I did a little, ah, 'investigation'."
Oh. Fuck. No.
"What are you talking about?" he questioned her, half taunting, half genuinely curious - and afraid. What the hell had she done? And what could have she possibly heard in Coachella? They hadn't talked about anything concerning the deal in there, right? Unless they had followed maybe some of their friends? He knew Red Lips and Victor had been gossiping non stop about how they had known he and Emma would eventually give in to the sexual tension and 'get it on' already, and surely the rest of the band had commented on it too, so... was it so difficult to believe that, if she had been paying enough attention to them, she could have caught something about it?
Fuck it all to hell.
But that was it - maybe she had heard something, but she didn't have any proof about anything. She could be just swinging in the dark, looking for anything that might hurt him and Emma, but she wouldn't be able to pull it off. However, that investigation she claimed she had done wasn't sitting well with him.
She passed a hand through her curls, pushing them away from her face impatiently. "Oh, nothing, really. A couple of friends of mine here and there, who, look at that! Told me all about your precious deal with Miss Swan."
He furrowed his brow. The delivery man. He had been in the studio that day, but he wasn't sure what he had been doing when he run into him.
"I have no clue what you're talking about."
She arched an eyebrow, promptly bending to open up a drawer at her right to carefully place a recorder over the papers she had been reading. "Don't you?"
Killian gulped loudly, swearing to himself he hadn't been this scared for years. He had no idea what he was about to listen to, but spying Milah's satisfied expression he was positive it wasn't one of his songs.
And then, Gold's voice came from the recorder, and he swore under his breath, flinching lightly as bits from their conversation came to mind while it played in the eerily silent room.
"Just a warning - in case something would happen between you and Miss Swan, any kind of problem which couldn't be solved at some point, then the whole contract would go down with it, as I'm sure you can guess, right?"
"Yeah, I guess it would be too devastating to pose as a couple if we were miserable after a breakup."
"Exactly."
A loud click resounded when Milah pressed the stop button, a clear statement about the debate being open to discussion, he was sure; but he kept his head down, not daring to look at her and opting to studiously ignore her presence. He bit his lip, reflecting and trying to find a coherent way to run from this with the minimal collateral damage possible. For him and for Emma.
It didn't appear like Milah was about to let him deliberate too much about it without offering her oh-so-not-helpful-nor-needed input. "I gotta admit you were pretty convincing - but I knew the truth. I knew you wouldn't go into a serious commitment, not after us."
It was these words, thrown away so carelessly and dripping of smugness and confidence that got him to the edge of his seat, a fist slamming against the desk loudly managing to rattle her so carefully settled arrange of paperwork. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you can come back barging into my life and ruin it? Again, may I say?"
He could say he was surprised that she hadn't even flinched at his harsh words and sudden rage, but he wasn't. This was Milah, she survived by not letting anybody get to her and facing the sharks of the big industries who attempted to knock off her husband's empire every day. He was no match for those.
Although she may not had counted with an enraged musician before.
A sudden memory of Emma teasing him about writing a mean song about her the night of the Gala popped into his head without warning, and he had the mad urge to start giggling maniacally or something equally nuts. How could he be thinking about her when he was in this mess?
Easy - she was pretty much always on his mind lately. Always there, in a corner, waiting when he wasn't aware of it, unless he took her out to play while memories and images of her would tease him.
Milah's voice broke his reverie, and it felt like a mirror breaking in front of him, his and Emma's reflection gone and in pieces at his feet. "I'm not ruining anything. You are."
The fact that she dared to blame him - why did everybody blame him for that matter? - enraged him, and he felt himself curling his hands into fists, trembling lightly at his sides. Was it so easy to pass the baggage to his shoulders? Had he a freaking sign over his forehead or what?
"What do you want?," he all but growled.
She didn't go around the bushes or talked in riddles. That had never been Milah's style. She was quite direct in everything she did and wanted, always had been - she just laid everything out, straightforward. Bandaid ripped off. There. "I want you to be honest with her."
He should have known the bandaid would hurt like a motherfucker.
"I am being honest with her," he declared adamantly. How could I not, I am in love with her, for fuck's sake, he thought to himself, tapping the pads of his finger against the wood of the table in a show to appear nonchalant when he all but felt like throwing himself out of a window.
You really have the best times to realize what the hell you feel, Jones.
"Oh, I bet you are," she sarcastically acknowledged, before tapping her fingers against the wooden desk, earning his attention once again. "You've two choices here, Killian: either you leave her... or everybody will find out about your little contract," she told him, very matter-of-factly as she counted with her fingers dramatically, like it was all a game to her. Like she wasn't ruining him, what he had. What he had found, what had practically saved him. The outrage and panic consuming and overwhelming him at the unfairness of it all felt like a fire blooming in his chest, flames licking every inch of his skin, and he could almost feel sweat already forming on his brow and slipping down his face. He was having trouble breathing, and he could all but glare at the woman who had meant more to him in a time of his life he had ever felt himself capable of. "I don't care about the deal anymore. Don't you see? I care about her, and she cares about me. It is real."
"Does she? Then I'm sorry you'll have to break things up with her. Because if you do care for her, you will," she said, and there was that sliver of pride that'd always wedged into her voice, startling him even more because she was not only threatening his band and Emma's reputation - but breaking someone's heart.
Not only his - but Emma's. She was way more important than him in all of this.
He tried to play his pokerface, lacing his fingers together on his lap so she wouldn't notice the slight trembling in them. "Why are you so sure?"
She barked out a laugh - a cruel, cold sound, not at all like the ones she had once shared with him whenever he tickled her or they had spent time together laughing and joking. "How do you think people will react to finding out you two cheated and lied to everybody just to get you on better ground with the public? What will people think of precious Emma Swan, golden girl, who has charmed the whole planet when they learn she has been playing a part for her sake? Do you think it'll do her any good? And don't get me started on your band. Would you be able to look at them in the eye after this goes all to hell - again, because of you?"
He couldn't hide his shock when she said it. It echoed in his head, over and over again, not believing she would be such a bitch. He couldn't believe this was happening.
"They wouldn't. They knew what we were getting into when we signed that deal."
She sniffed at him, seemingly unfazed by his statement. "A deal crafted to try to save what you had broken."
"Because of you," he said, his voice dangerously low.
"Oh, you. Always coming back to me. See? This is why you should have never left me." she taunted, and he glared right back at her.
At this point he was sure anyone would be able to see the smoke pouring off his every pore, he was that pissed off. This was all she had to say for herself after she had been the one to break their relationship - whatever it had been for her? It was clear to him it hadn't meant the same for her than for him, or if he had ever doubted about it, now she was more than letting it out in the open for him to see. "I left you? You were the one who decided not to be with me, to stay with your family and leave me out of your life."
"You gave me no choice," she replied with an unconvincing shrug.
His teeth clenched uncomfortably, almost making him wince. "There's always a choice," he stated sharply.
That made her pause for a moment, studying him intently, and he could swear he saw her eyes softening - but it was gone as soon as it showed. She shook her head, a hand coming up to pet her curls into place, and settled her unwavering gaze on him once more. Back to business. Back to blackmail. "Which leads us to yours. Now, what will it be: your silly crush on this girl, or her happiness and your band's?" she said sarcastically, and he stared at her in return.
"What do you get out of this?"
She startled at his question, almost as if she herself hadn't considered what she was gaining with all of this fucked up stunt she was pulling. Her brow burrowed and her expression turned conflicted, and for the span of a few seconds he could spy a shadow of the woman he had fallen for. "You know, as much as you may not believe me, I do love you. I was devastated after what happened - and you have to understand what it was like to have to make such a painful decision. Now you are too. I'm sure you have blamed me for all these months, telling yourself what a bitch I was, but you have to realize that not everything is black and white. And sometimes we have to choose between what we want and what needs to be done. And of course, I'm not going to lie - watching you with her has been painful enough, I'll admit knowing you're free again might help," the tone of her voice was reminiscent to her loving and caring cadence from his days together.
"You do realize I'll never forgive you for this, and I'd preferably cut my hand before coming back to you, right?" he snarled at her, and the spite in his words tasted good, though unfamiliar, on his tongue.
The earlier soft, reminiscing and almost remorseful side that she had let out earlier now completely gone, she cocked an eyebrow at him, a thin-lipped smile sent his way. "Oh, I know you'll be pissed alright. But give it time." She stood from her chair, tossing her curls over her shoulder in a tiredly manner and walking past him to the door. She stood by after opening it, cocking her head to the side, not-so-subtly inviting him to leave her office. He didn't need be told twice, he was more than eager to leave this goddamn place already. While he was walking by her, she touched his arm, and he yanked it from her grasp with a growl. Their eyes met, and he wondered once more what could have possibly happened to her that she would find the least amount of pleasure in ruining his relationship with Emma - or the urge to make him choose between her or her reputation and his band's. Tearing his gaze from hers, he stepped out from the room, his feet propping him to get the fuck away from there, pronto, a faraway corner of his brain wondering if he'd even be able to find his way in all those hallways he had navigated earlier with the fake delivery man's - Greg?. Milah's voice came from behind then, but he didn't even dare to stop, not now. He had heard enough, but she had always been one for dramatics, and she was not about to change, not now, and not for another one of her games.
"You've got two weeks. And your barbie can't know of anything of this, of course."
Tick tock.
A day, two days, three days. A week. A week and a half. A week and five days. A week and six days.
The deadline kept nagging, pursuing him with cold and unrelenting fingers, a shadow that passed over his eyes whenever he was reminded about it, while he tried to cherish the moments he spent along with Emma, with Henry, with her family. With both of their families.
Watches, clocks on the wall, cuckoo birds chirping behind window panes, - the unmistakable ticking haunting and never letting him go, like a mantra going over and over in his head. Time was running out.
You have a choice to make.
Why was it that whenever you wanted the clock to stop working, for time to go slower, stretch, and somehow make the inevitable to never come it always ended up mocking you, coming even earlier than expected? Time was playing with him.
Tick, tock.
The clock was getting louder, ready for him to decide.
He didn't know how long he waited inside his car, parked in front of Emma's place, counting in his head everything he could.
8 trees on each side of the street.
11 cars parked on the right, 14 on the left.
6 songs he had heard on the radio on his way there.
264 ticks of the clock since he had stopped the car and started counting.
16 hours since he had last kissed Emma.
He'd spent many hours, days in these two weeks, sitting on his bed, or at his desk, staring at nothing, just straight ahead, fighting the urge to throw everything around him against the wall, wondering if the crunching and breaking and knocking down would bring him any relief, any sort of comfort at his impossible situation.
How could he make it all away? He was completely tangled in a net he was not coming out of anytime soon, - his happiness, Emma's and his band's out of reach.
His clock read 20:39 when he finally got out of the car and marched to her front door, knocking and waiting for her to let him in. He had called earlier to tell her he'd be coming over, and she had been pleased about the offer, seeing as Henry was at David and Mary Margaret's that night, along with Nana. He felt a pang of sadness when he realized she most surely thought they'd spend the night watching a movie, eating popcorn and laughing at the clichés displayed on the chick flick she would have picked, and probably ignoring the end by getting to the bedroom or the shower instead. The fact that he knew for a fact that it wouldn't go that way almost sent him running back to his car and driving back home.
"Hey. What's up?"
No such luck, though.
Emma stood in front of him, opening the door for him to enter and follow her inside, making herself at home on the couch and patting her side so he'd take a seat. He did, carefully avoiding to touch her - which he was sure she would find completely out of character, as she was constantly whining about his never ending grabbing her complex. They had dubbed it his 'caveman complex', and she teased him endlessly, mimicking caveman lines whenever he snaked his arms around her or caressed her every time he passed by her side: 'me grab you', 'me and hand best friends', 'me cannot stop manhandling blondie'.
The memory not managing to bring a smile to his lips was a pretty telling sign of the state in which he was, knowing what was about to happen - what was about to fallout between both of them.
The dreaded words anyone in a relationship has ever feared hearing escaped his lips, ad he was sure Emma noticed his mood as soon as he did.
"We need to talk."
He said it casually, or tried to, anyway, but he was sure that Emma had known him long enough to catch the ring of anxiousness among the other, sweeter and Jones-ish chimes.
She sat straighter at his right, and cocked her head to the side, studying him intently. "You have been acting weird these past days." She stared at him with a look he couldn't quite read, which was strange, and sort of startled him. Finally, she sighed, and started talking quite in a rush, so fast he had a hard time grasping everything she was saying. "I have been trying to be patient and wait for you to tell me what it was, and I know I have been completely out of it with all of the Neal mess, and I can't thank you enough for being there for me, but now I'm scared that I may have been ignoring you somehow if you were in some kind of trouble..."
"Hey, stop. Stop," he ordered her, grasping her hands in one of his, the other one taking a hold of her chin so she'd look at him and stop babbling. Here he was, about to drop the fucking bombshell and she was already thinking it had been her fault for his out-of-character behavior as of late. "It's not that. I was there helping you because I wanted to, okay? Never doubt that." He bit his lip, his hand dropping from her face and now scratching the hair at the nape of his neck nervously. "But it's true that there has been something off these last weeks." Exhaling heavily, he lifted his eyes back to meet her worried gaze, hating the fact that soon it'd be worse, that those eyes would be full of hurt and pain. Maybe full of tears. "Emma, this deal... now, we don't need it anymore, right?"
He had caught her by surprise, it was obvious. She stared at him, wide eyed, expression completely baffled. "...what?"
He growled in frustration. For all that he had rehearsed this conversation in his head, he feared it would go all to hell soon enough, he would bet anything on it. "I mean. You're rooting for the stars, you got this amazing project with Mulan, and probably will get whatever you want afterwards - and my band is back on the game. The purpose of the contract is fulfilled. Finito. Right? Should we keep on going with it then?"
It was the truth, though. That had been the purpose of the whole thing: give Emma notoriety among the big circles, and bring them good press after his stupid stunt back when Milah had left him. Everything had worked as a charm, exactly as Gold and Regina had predicted: media couldn't stop praising their tryst, the public adored them, and every time they stepped out into the limelight it was bound to create hysteria and probably have some fans fainting at their sight. They had it all, the world at their feet.
And, along the way, they had found something entirely different of what they had expected. Something they hadn't known they were looking for in the first place, but had needed either way, without them noticing.
But this was about the contract, right now. The thought of having to approach them made Killian cringe already.
A frown marred Emma's forehead as she considered his earlier statement, and she leaned her head against the back of the couch, never tearing her gaze from his. "I guess if we don't want to we can just quit it, right?"
"Yeah," he lamely offered. Hell, a headache was coming. He massaged his temples without even acknowledging it.
She shrugged then, and a somewhat calmer demeanor took over her, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He realized then she thought this was all he wanted to talk about, and he felt like kicking himself again. Or kicking Milah for messing with his life and Emma's for just being unable to stand seeing him being happy for once.
"Okay, so we can call Regina and Mr. Gold tomorrow and tell them. No problem." She scooted closer to him, bumping his shoulder with hers softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Was that what had you so concerned? It's just a piece of paper. It has nothing to do with us."
That was what they had discussed not long ago. How, if they decided to stop or just plain break the contract, they could either way keep their private life, their relationship away from it.
But everything had changed, and she had no idea. Not yet, at least.
At his expression, he heard her whisper dubiously, "Has it?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, fists curled over his lap after having dropped her hands. He couldn't bear the thought of looking at her as he added, in the most controlled voice he could muster, "Well, it definitely brought us together."
He knew it'd be a matter of time until she'd put an end to the whole stalling shit he was pulling off. Sitting back up and staring right at him, she commanded airily, "Killian. Tell me please."
He winced as the pounding in his head began to escalate from a dull throb to feeling as if someone was trying to crack open his skull with a hammer. He knew where the source of such pain came - the dread and panic of having this conversation, for starters. Yet he couldn't do anything to stop it. He sighed, the trembling in his hands out of control while he played with the armrest of the couch he had occupied earlier after following Emma into the living room. "It isn't just the contract. It's... us," he finally said, trying to mask the wavering of his voice by clearing his throat.
It didn't make his next words sound anything other than mere whispers, either way.
"I think it'd be better if we stopped seeing each other."
He could swear he heard the halting of her heartbeat. He hadn't met her eyes when he said his piece, but he felt compelled to look at her now, despite knowing he'd probably hate the sight of her.
The shock, disbelief and confusion etched on her features was everything he had dreaded encountering since he had known he had to do this. She looked ahead of her, at a point over his shoulder, eyes unseeing, mouth slightly parted in surprise. "Wow."
"Yeah," Killian murmured, his stomach clenching with dread, fearing that shit was about to hit the fan. Knowing Emma, she would have her say in this, - and he loved her for that, but at the same time he would give anything to skip the whole thing. Not for the fight itself, but because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand seeing her breaking down, or if he would be strong enough not to.
He had to.
Emma, for her part, had steeled herself, sniffling a couple of times loudly and schooling her features into a cool mask of indifference. God, she was stubborn. As if he would buy that. "Well, I won't say I'm not surprised. That was quite out of the blue. But whatever, I'm just glad we let that out," she finally stated bitterly, giving him her fiercest glare. "See? It wasn't that difficult to fucking finally say what you wanted." She dropped her hands and backed away from him, looking angry and mildly disgusted, though it was obvious she was trying to be the bigger person and look something akin to calm.
He knew she wouldn't keep it up much longer. She felt too much, she let herself feel too much - and even if she had been a pro at hiding and controlling her feelings at every situation, they both knew she was done for whenever he was concerned, since she had let him in.
She was already standing up from the couch, her feet taking her to the kitchen instinctively when he called out to her, almost without thinking about it. "Emma..."
He needn't had bothered: she was already backing away and coming back to face him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing as she started yelling in his face. "You know what? No. I'm not backing down. Because I care about you. I fucking love you. You made me fall for you, you bastard. And now what? You just woke up one day and decided I wasn't worth it?" she snapped impulsively, and he flinched. Then he stood as well, openly glaring at her, even though he knew she had every right to be mad at him. Hell, he was mad at himself too, but it wasn't like he knew what else to do at this point. But the fact that she would believe she didn't mean anything to him, or that his feelings for her had somewhat dimmed was utterly insulting.
What the hell did you expect, you wanker. You just told her you wanted to break up with her.
He just needed her to understand he didn't want to, it was the last damn thing he desired, for Christ's sake.
He wanted to take her in his arms and sooth her with whispers in her ear, but knew that would be the worst way to go about this right now. She would probably bit his hand off, and he wouldn't blame her. This was supposed to be a clean breakup, and it was going wonderfully wrong. As everything he ever planned, of course. Eyes glowering, he muttered darkly in barely a whisper, "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then tell me," she hissed back, not backing down.
He wanted to tell her so badly. It was there, hanging on for dear life on the tip of his tongue. The truth. But that was not what came out of his mouth.
"I can't."
His words reeked of dispair, and he prayed for all that was holy that she'd catch the meaning behind them.
I don't want to do this. I have to but I don't want to. I am doing this because I love you. I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life.
"Please, Killian. Please." she repeated adamantly, squeezing her eyes closed to trap the tears that threatened to spill over.
It was the tears, the pain and the anguish lacing her tone that broke him, making him snap. His hands grabbed her shoulders forcefully, shaking her lightly so she'd lift her gaze towards him. "Emma, you know if I could, I would. Don't you understand? I'm doing this for you."
Emma's pale green eyes were flashing with fury, but it wasn't her anger that made him flinch. It was the mixture of pain and betrayal on her face. She backed slowly away from him, as if she couldn't tolerate his presence any longer, and the thought cut into him like a knife. She appeared to think better of it, or didn't even notice that she was in fact inching closer to him, her finger jabbing against his chest, and making him wince in pain. "If you want to do something for me, stay with me. Fight for me."
"I have fought! I have tried, I have thought of any way I could to make things right and I swear to you this is the only way," he screamed back at her, his own confusion and pain coming out in waves.
This was what they did. They fought. They yelled, cursed at each other, their verbal sparring inspiring too many emotions in him to face all at once, overwhelming him. He recalled how whenever they ended up like this, both of them panting and gasping for air; her eyes would be on him, and she would look up and grin at him, cheeks glowing red, hair tumbling from her ponytail around her face.
And the sight of her would always feel like a sharp blow to his gut, as he realized for the hundredth time that she was utterly, stupidly and unfairly beautiful.
This time he felt the same, and his heart hammered painfully against his chest when a traitorous part of him reminded him that he may not be witness of this side of her for a long time.
Before he could shake himself from his stupor she was already firing back, words nearly spat at him. "I don't believe that. If you had, you would have told me from the start and we could have tried to figure something out together."
Before he realized it they were both standing, facing each other, rounding the other like prey and predator, although he wasn't sure who was supposed to be whom; their voices rising in a rapid crescendo until it was only a matter of time that it all crashed down around them. "I don't want you in this mess. They can drag me down if they want, but not you. I won't let anything happen to you, even if it costs me my career."
Emma pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, and he knew she was fighting the urge to burst into tears of exasperation - he had seen her do that too many times this last week when the threat of Neal taking away her son had been too much and she hadn't wanted to worry them with her crying. He was sure she didn't understand how, in a mere matter of minutes, her life had gone spectacularly to hell. "You are so fucking stupid. I don't want you to save me! I don't need a hero, I don't need a savior!"
"You were my savior! You are my savior!"
"Then if I am, let me help you!"
"I told you already - you can't. I'd rather have you safe and happy than being screwed over because of me."
"I won't be happy if I'm not with you, you fucking moron." There was a moment of silence in which they simply stared at each other, her eyes hardened and his softened. Her head fell, and so did her voice as she spoke next. "You are ruining everything. I can't believe this is happening."
He opened his mouth but no words ventured out; she had scared them all away, back down his throat.
He remembered the last time they had been in such a fight together - here, in the same room, so long ago. The night they had first slept together. How they had screamed at the top of their lungs, how she had accused him of being wrong for her, how he had snarled back about her fear of letting anybody in. How he had stated he made her happy, how she had scoffed and told him to shove it. How they had kissed for real.
How she cad called him poison, for ruining everything he ever touched.
And he couldn't but agree with her.
"Maybe I am poison after all," he said quietly, hoping the wavering in his voice had gone unnoticed. He peeked at her under his lashes, and his heart fell when he saw yet another tear rolling down her cheek.
"Yet I'd drink you all, knowing the consequences. What does that say about me?," she told him, and the look on her face was something he had never seen before. He had seen it twisted in anger, gleaming with amusement, and shining with tears. But this was something new, something unfamiliar. Sad. Regretful.
His lips quirked into a sad smile then. "That you're stupid. And that I love you anyway."
Emma's shoulders sagged, and he immediately wished he could retract his words. But it was too late. For a few moments they stood facing each other, with their eyes blazing and their chests heaving with emotion. It was Emma who broke the silence. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare to tell me you love me right before you're leaving me," she growled gruffly, her eyes never leaving his face.
He could hardly even breathe. Surprise and heartbreak had seized his limbs, taking them in a bone-crunching, inescapable grip. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."
She crossed her arms, bracing herself, and he fought the urge to go and embrace her himself, as he would have done if it had been another day, another time. Another life. "I don't know what is going on. I have no idea why you think you must do this, but for whatever reason it may be, I will be waiting. Mad as hell, because you decided to go against what I want, what I'm asking you to do, to not leave me, and instead you chose to follow some stupid fucking honor code or something to keep me safe. I told you - I don't need saving. I need you." She took a few deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm herself, but it was no use - he could see her trembling hands, the slight shaking of her limbs, and he would swear there was a tiny stutter in her speech, probably due to her fight against tears. "But I know you won't budge, because you're one stubborn son of a bitch."
If he had never minded about the silences he and Emma shared, considering them soothing, calming, and full of understanding from her part, this one was completely different from anything they had ever experienced. Tension, strain, unspoken words, angry threats, apologies, excuses. Anything and everything that had been left unsaid between them. Anything and everything that they had ever shared.
He knew he didn't have the right to ask. He knew it wasn't the moment, he knew it was wrong - God, it was all kinds of wrong, the time, the place, the situation. Yet he couldn't help himself. "And you love me anyways?"
17 seconds.
That was what it took her to answer him.
"Against all odds." The words drifted down from her mouth as if by parachute, and they hit the floor with soft, quiet feet.
Killian could find no words to express the emotions that he felt when she said this, and chose to bend to brush his lips against hers instead of having to think of anything to tell her. His kiss was as light as a whisper, and if it was true that every kiss had a meaning behind it, he thought that this one felt like a fond farewell.
Apparently, she refused to let that be the case.
Emma pressed her mouth insistently against his, burying her fingers in his hair to keep him from pulling away. The moment she tried deepening the kiss, he immediately responded in kind. In a heartbeat his hands were tangled in her curls, his lips moving against hers with an intensity that nearly left her breathless.
A soft moan escaped her lips as soon as his hands left her hair, her clothes being tugged away and dropped on the floor, her blouse being frantically unbuttoned. In his haste to remove the garment, a few of the buttons popped off and fell to the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They were so consumed with desire that he almost forgot the need to breathe.
He finally pulled his lips away from hers long enough to murmur, "Just for tonight, pretend that we have all the time in the world."
She stared up at him for a long moment, eyes wide and open for him to read. Despair, lust, reluctance.
Love.
Before he would drown himself in the storm brewing inside the sea coloring her eyes, he ripped her blouse off her shoulders and bent down to fasten his mouth on her collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark. He moved further south to the tops of her breasts, covering them with fierce, open-mouthed kisses, trying to memorize the taste of her skin or brand her with the memory of his touch. Perhaps a combination of both.
She was his. He was hers. Damn it all to hell if he had to stay away from her for their sakes - for her sake - she'd better not forget who she wanted, and who wanted her as much in return.
The thought of someone capturing her heart as he had managed to do after such a long time made his heart clench and give a new rush to his movements, now frantic and uncoordinated.
There was a chaotic blur of pants, socks, and underwear being thrown to the floor as they were both divested of their clothing. Then she gasped when Killian suddenly scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. As he lowered her onto the bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body down to cover hers. The need to feel every inch of his skin pressed against hers was almost overwhelming.
Quickly, but somehow not quickly enough for either of them, he was inside of her. Neither of them said anything, but it seemed that for the moment, no words needed to be spoken. They spoke another language entirely - one that consisted of gasps and moans, of lips and fingers burning trails over each other's skin - as they rocked together with an urgency that bordered on desperation.
Emma clung to him, moving with him as he set a steady rhythm that brought both of them closer to the brink of oblivion. It was an experience unlike any of the other times that he had been with her. It was mournful and slow, tender and fierce, and as he pressed his lips to the throbbing pulse point in her neck, he belatedly realized that he was not simply sleeping with her.
He was making love to her.
He closed his eyes, feeling as if his heart was going to burst.
"Emma," he said, breathing heavily with the labor of his movements. He cupped her chin with his hand. "Emma, please look at me."
She opened her eyes to meet his, and the moment she did so, something spread throughout his body, every nerve in him tingling and sending sparks through him, something akin to magic taking hold of them. Again he gasped her name, this time in a voice that was both possessive and pleading, and at the sound of it, she shattered in his arms, curling her hips into his as she came with a keening cry. He followed soon after, gathering her body closer to his as, together, they rode out the intense wave of physical pleasure and emotional pain.
Breathing finally slowing, she gazed into his eyes, and as they both studied each other, he wondered how they had come to this, what had been fate's plan all along if it had to come up to this in the end. Them meeting, the contract, the getting to know each other, the tearing down each other's walls until they crumbled to dust, the love, the family, the sense of being part of something. Part of someone.
Why making their paths cross once, if they were meant to never meet again after that? Had it been designed like that since the beginning?
He refused to believe that, but as he held Emma against him and ghosted kisses against her shoulder lazily, he couldn't help but fear it could be the case, making him desperately cherish her presence and the promise of her affection and her feelings that night.
He realized that he may never fully understand what had transpired between them. Maybe he never would. Emma had always been this puzzle to him, a blurry image that he could never properly see or couldn't figure out at times. But somehow, by his side - he had been able to. Because maybe the broken pieces of her just clicked with his, and who knew what picture both his and hers would form, but he would bet it was full of something magical. Something that only Emma, full of life and vibrant and hope Emma, unadulterated Emma, walls-down Emma could bring into it.
And now, he clang to the little things: the heat of her body, the way she held to him like he was her anchor as they made love into the night branding into his brain, promising to be things he'd hold onto the next months and who knew for how long, when he'd have to let her go.
He awoke hours later, pale morning light filling the bedroom as he shifted instinctively closer to Emma to draw from her body heat - they had probably left the window open again, he would have to remind her not to do that or they'd both catch a cold one of these days…
At this thought, Killian's eyes snapped open, and he drew himself away from the temptation of her warm, inviting body. It ached to think that something that could have been so normal for them, so mundane, would have to be ripped off from his life so painfully. He pulled back the covers and forced himself to crawl out of the comfort of her bed, cringing when his bare feet struck the cold, hardwood floor.
His sudden movement caused Emma to roll over and stretch out her arms to where he had been lying before, and her face crinkled into a frown. It was as if she could sense his abandonment, even in her sleep. It made his heart ache all over again. The lost girl, the abandoned girl.
He never would have thought he'd be added to the list of people who would have to leave her, even though he had tried as hell to make sure she understood he intended to fight for them, that he didn't want to stay away from her at all.
Killian sighed. He kept waiting for him to feel remorse over the previous night, somehow feeling that it had been a mistake. He had wanted it to be a clean break – if such a thing was even possible at this point. But a part of him had known from the start that it would have been a futile attempt - who had he been kidding. There would be no clean breaks with Emma. That was not who they were, and they would never be. And a small, hopeful voice inside of him kept buggering him about how it wouldn't have to be the last time they were together because, somehow, who knew when or where, they would find each other again, problems, threats and deals aside.
As much as he hated believing in happy endings and promises of dreams coming true, he sure as hell would pray to Walt Disney himself or his blasted fairy godmother if it brought him back to Emma.
With another sigh, Killian retrieved his clothes from the floor and dressed himself. Then he closed the window to shut out the crisp morning air before he turned to exit the room. He hesitated on his way out the door, looking back at Emma's slumbering form. He didn't want to wake her – didn't want her to see him leave. He didn't know if he would be able to handle her expression when he did. But he couldn't resist returning to her side one last time to tuck the blankets more tightly around her and press a feather-light kiss to her forehead. She stirred again, her eyelids fluttering as she mumbled something incoherent under her breath, - making him smile against all odds, recalling her embarrassment when they teased her about her sleep talking; - but she did not awaken.
In that moment, Killian wondered if he was making a huge mistake leaving her and ending this…well, whatever this was that had developed between them. But when he saw the peaceful look on her face as she slept, he knew he was making the right choice. She had had to fight so long and so hard – for herself when she was a kid, for her son, for her family, for her job. For once, didn't she deserve to have something she didn't have to fight for?
Emma deserved to be happy – that much, Killian knew for sure.
With great effort, Killian turned to leave the room once more. This time, he forced himself not to look back.
"So. You two just have to sign these - here and here."
Everything felt like those flashbacks in movies, where the viewer can see the symmetry of the scene, the changes in the characters's clothes and features, - everything, really. They would think 'oh, wow, what a great parallel! I wonder what the significance behind it all means...'. Killian had no idea what they would consider if this scene in particular and that one from months ago were faced against the other and closely examined.
Emma and Regina, sitting in one of the couches in front of the one he and Gold were sitting in, the glass low table separating them. If he remembered correctly, Emma had been wearing a skirt then, - he had teased her about it, pushing her buttons as he had been doing since their first run-in. Today, she had opted for a black ensemble which contrasted infamously with his fair skin and blond tresses. Her hair had been in curls that day - today it fell straight to her chest. Back then, they hadn't stopped bickering back and forth and trying to get the upper hand, both of them not daring the other to get the last word.
Today, neither one of them seemed eager to speak at all.
All in all, even if the scene could look eerily familiar, it felt completely alien to him. Back to that day, it had meant a start, a beginning. Today, it reeked of goodbye.
Of course, it was she who broke the silence that had mostly domineered the incredibly awkward meeting they were having. "And that's all?"
Gold nodded, giving her a feeble smile. "Yeah. Nothing else." Before she could make any other response, his manager signaled towards a stack of papers over on his desk, and, after sharing a small look, both he and Emma stood up at the same time, as if they both were completely in sync, like they had always been. He could see the same ridiculously posh pens they had used to sign the contract in the first place, waiting for them to promise something else, something new altogether.
Something breaking.
For a fleeting moment, he mused if this was somehow what divorcing couples felt like when they were about to go their separate ways, along with their attorneys and to-be-former-partners in their last meeting as family of sorts.
He couldn't help himself as they stood there, holding those pens in their hands and nearly shaking in place in front of the damned papers. "You okay?"
She fell silent, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. It was one of the things he had always loved about her, how easy she was to read. Just like one of the scripts she learned by heart for her movies, the books she read for them, everything she thought or felt was written on her face as clearly as words on a page. He knew she was thinking about the possible dual meaning behind his words; that she was wondering if he was referring to being okay with what they were doing, not the contract, but them.
She steeled herself, bending over the desk and scribbling on the small blank space over her name. "I'm fine. Let's get this over with."
He teared his gaze from hers, and followed her example, signing over the place he was supposed to and leaving the pen abandoned over the new contract/countering the old contract. He couldn't help but see how both of them were now laying on their own side of the desk, separated.
Just like the names that they had signed.
"So. It's done," he trailed off uncomfortably and Emma nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.
"Yeah. I guess it is."
Gold nodded reluctantly, and they all rose to leave. In her wake, Emma wobbled somewhat as she stood, and Killian wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. Reflexively, she pulled herself out of his grasp.
"I'm fine, Killian," she muttered. Before he could say anything in reply, she breezed out of the room and made her way towards the elevators to leave the building. He followed her out, leaving Gold and Regina discussing whatever details they wanted - or gossip, he wasn't sure what those two knew or would think about all of this, but either way, he wasn't complaining for not being invited to the rep party. He could hear Emma's footsteps ahead of him until he saw her. She had stopped in her tracks, and as soon as she did so, Killian paused as well. She turned to face him, trying to avoid direct eye contact as he stood there, watching her warily. She approached him slowly, step by step booming across the hallway like canons firing in the middle of some battle ship, and he couldn't help but think, every man to himself.
They were all drowning, after all. Both of them.
He already had, for sure.
Emma stopped mere inches from him, and held her hand out to him. He studied her small palm, the smooth skin that had caressed his so many times, the short nails that had pinched him and raked over his shoulders and back on so many occasions. He couldn't remember ever having shaken hands with her: their whole relationship had started with words and curses yelled at each other, pre organized kisses and bickered conversations that had never really ended when they had decided their deal was morphing into something else entirely. Never had they had to act in such a formal way.
Little had he known, then, that this would be what it would come to in the end. A simple handshake.
"Have a nice life, Jones," she said softly.
It was for the best, he knew, but that couldn't keep his heart from breaking a little more. He wanted to kiss her, shake her, wrap his arms around her and never let go. Instead, he took it in his, his thumb rubbing her palm on its own accord, and declared in a throaty voice, "Same, Swan."
As their hands touched, it was as if lightning danced between their fingertips, shooting up his arm and electrifying every inch of his body, and he knew then. He knew.
He would never get over her. He would have to do everything in his power to keep her safe, but there would be no one else for him apart from Emma Swan. And if he had to stay away for now - for as long as he had to - for that to be the case, then so be it.
Even if the thought of losing her killed him.
Emma dropped his hand quickly, and he knew she felt the same thing. But by the time he shook himself from his stupor, she was shaking her head, swirling around and blond tresses billowing behind her as she made to leave.
"Emma?"
She paused in mid stride, and turned to look back at him. Mustering all his courage, he stared right at her, and asked, like it was one of the countless times since they had acknowledged what they had was far more than their names signed in a piece of paper.
"Kiss?"
Their code. Their little routine. Their banter. Their ticks. They had started using it as a way to ask for permission, to ask for forgiveness, to ask for anything and everything. To request the other to pass something which was out of their reach. To say hi.
They both knew this one meant goodbye.
The paradox of the sea in her eyes glistening, wet and bright rendered him speechless as she stepped closer to him, her hands falling to his shoulders, and she leaned to press her lips against his, brushing them in the softest ghost of a kiss they had ever shared. "Kiss."
And before he could add anything else, he was staring at her back as she stepped inside of the elevator, the cheerful ding while the doors closed behind her mocking his crestfallen expression and beating heart. That was it. The greatest love of his life, out of his reach and flying from him, just like that swan he had spied in the clouds long ago, the eve of the day he met her.
83 seconds.
That was how long it took him to realize he'd been holding his breath since she had parted with their kiss, and when he inhaled again, the air tasted like cocoa and cinnamon.
And for once, the scent didn't bring its usual warmth with it - but loneliness, and a heavy heart.
...please don't hate me. Believe me, I haven't cried that much while typing something since... ever. Maybe with 'Heart's a Mess', but these are my babies, and I care too much about them, and their pain is *my* pain and I am highly emotional these days and yeah, I am sorry.
Sorry for the delay, but as I explained on Tumblr, I did have this idea for another AU and I am finally finished with it so that's why I was so late in updating! Hopefully next chapter won't take that long, but I can't assure anything - summer is proving to be quite busy. (whaaaat right? where is my mojito and my tan?)
feel free to cry and yell at me. I know I deserve it. here, have tissues, babies. *throws tissues at everybody*
also, this is unbeta'ed, as Cee is out of the country, hiding from the police. Be safe, dear. (...i'm kidding. she's actually not escaping the authorities, just following her favorite band in a groupie spree) (that'd be cool right?!) (*sigh* oh i have such fun plans for you my dear)
you know you love me. xoxWHAT NO I AM NO DAN HUMPFREY.
love always, nini.
PS: "Until It Hurts", by Fransisca Hall, "Are You Happy Now", by Michelle Branch, "Losing My Way" by Justin Timberlake and "Runaway" by Maroon 5. Pretty much. Yeah. Enjoy the feels.