Thanks to Tori and Irene, for...well, everything, always lol.
And once again, thank you for your patience! Being a medic, and a student doing both my own university course and a Yale course online, alongside the the current situation, it's been...challenging, to say the least!
Your Case Or Mine
Chapter 22
Going home was supposed to be a relief, right? It was supposed to feel like...well, going home. And to an extent, it did. She was glad to be out of the hospital, at least, even if she did feel exhausted with minimal exertion. They'd told her to expect that, and that it was completely normal after a week in a hospital bed, especially considering that just a few days ago she'd had tubes in her chest and one helping her to breathe.
She had strict instructions about wearing the sling she'd been given in order to rest her shoulder. She'd been filled in on exactly what had happened to her, and the injuries she'd sustained, which had been sobering, to say the least. She had pain meds (which she had no intention of taking, if she was honest) and somewhat resembles a mummy under her clothes, considering the bandages and dressings she had covering her wounds. It was painful if she moved too quickly, and she'd been warned about doing too much and popping her stitches. Not something she was keen on, so she reluctantly accepted the help David, Will and Killian offered. (Though she didn't really have much of a choice, if she was being honest).
The three of them had insisted on helping her move back into her apartment, fussing around her and pretty much confining her to resting for most of the day, as they unpacked the few bags of things she'd taken with her undercover. She tried to squash down the heavy feeling in her gut when she thought about that house, and repeatedly reminded herself it was never hers . And rationally, she knew that, but still, she'd somehow become attached to it, and to the memories she and Killian had managed to make in their brief time there.
Everytime she found her mind drifting there though, she consciously snapped herself out of it, becoming more and more frustrated with herself. She was getting hung up on something that was never even real . And her frustration with herself manifested as frustration with David, sharply telling him she was perfectly capable of nuking a burrito herself when he attempted to relieve her of the task.
Will could sense the tension in the room, and tactfully guided David out of the kitchen.
"Maybe we should give 'er some space. You know she's not exactly a fan of the helicopter parentin' thing you have a tendency to do…" David scowled, but reluctantly acknowledged that the younger man was probably right. "We should leave Killian to keep an eye on 'er. I think she's feelin' a bit suffocated with the three of us hangin' around."
Will glanced at Killian, who nodded slowly, not wanting to seem too eager about the chance for some alone-time with Emma. Since she'd woken up the day before, they still hadn't had the chance to really talk. He'd planned to stay at the hospital with her the night before (they'd wanted to keep her in for 24 hours after she'd woken up, just for monitoring), but she'd insisted that he went and 'got some rest in a proper bed'. He'd tried not to take it as a rejection as he'd left the hospital, even though it had felt that way.
Will had been good enough to let him crash on his sofa, but somehow he'd slept even worse than he had on the hospital cot. Will had kindly noted that he looked like shit the next morning, but assured him with a cheeky grin that he was sure Emma would still have the hots for him regardless.
When they'd arrived at the hospital, Emma was impatient to leave. Will had joked about her being back to her old self, but it was certainly a relief to see her out of bed. She'd practically bolted for the door once she'd thanked the nurses who'd looked after her, and signed her discharge papers. Killian had, of course, brought the nurses a hamper of goodies, as a thank you for taking care of him as well as Emma. They'd fawned over his generosity, and Emma had smiled weakly when they'd commented that she was 'lucky to have one of the good ones'.
Once they'd arrived at her apartment, Emma had felt a little lost, navigating somewhat awkwardly around the space that used to be so familiar and comfortable to her. After some tense interactions with David, his helicopter parenting, as Will had so accurately labelled it, irritating her in the confined space of the apartment that clearly wasn't big enough for four people, he and Will had left.
Which had left her alone with Killian. And for some reason, that suddenly made her nervous, not helped by the fact that he seemed nervous too. It was all adding to her frustration, with herself, and with the situation in general. She didn't like feeling so off-balance when she was supposed to be back in her comfort zone, the case closed and their stint undercover behind them.
But it wasn't as though her life could simply go back to how it was before. The fact that she was meeting her son's adoptive family for lunch the following day, before they headed back to Maine, was a testament to just how upside down her life now was. She had a lot of noise in her head, and it was a little overwhelming, to say the least.
"You seem pensive, love. Might I ask why?"
His tentative, hopeful expression made her heart stutter. He clearly felt just as unsure of himself and this new territory they were navigating as she did, and that was comforting, in a way.
"I just...I'm thinking about tomorrow," at his slight frown of confusion she clarified, "Meeting Henry's family. What if they don't like me? I-I...I really want to see him again, if his parents are okay with it, but if they don't like me…"
"They'll love you, Swan," Killian said firmly, with a conviction she wished she could feel too, "How could they not? You saved the lad's life, almost at the cost of your own. You've only ever been selfless when it comes to him. I spoke with his adoptive parents briefly, and they seem like good people. They are going to love you."
Emma swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her stomach that rose up everytime she thought about the meeting. She'd never been someone that fought for approval from others, but what her son's family thought of her mattered to her more than she cared to think about.
Killian sounded so convincing though, and his optimism brought a small smile to her lips. He grinned back, before turning to the hallway, where one more overnight bag sat.
"Where do you want this one, darling?"
"Uh, I think that's clothes, so...my bedroom. Thanks."
She gestured in the direction of her room and then followed him, unzipping the bag and beginning to take out the clothes once he'd dropped it onto her bed. He glanced around the room, taking in all the little details of her space.
It was decidedly 'industrial chic' - exposed brick on the far wall, the bed in the centre of it and a tall window either side, with bedside tables and a pair of lamps. The other walls were plain white, one with a corner chair sat beside a large, white-framed mirror propped against the wall, and the other with a matching distressed-wood closet and dresser. There was a piece of abstract art on the dresser, leaned against the wall, as well as a plant, a stack of books and a collection of photographs of Emma with Will, David and other friends. There were a few small potted sat on the windowsills, as well as candles and a white knitted blanket that looked like a baby blanket, with her name stitched into it, folded over the chair.
There were more scatter pillows and throw blankets than Killian had expected, and a color scheme too (duvet, pillows, throws and curtains in complimentary mustard yellow and grey tones); she was most certainly more of a practical person than decorative, so it surprised him a little.
Emma snapped him out of his perusal by clearing her throat.
"You better not be trying to psychoanalyze my bedroom, Jones."
She joked, but Killian could tell from the nervousness laced around her words that allowing him into this most intimate space of hers, where she'd already previously admitted to never sharing with anyone else (other than Will, in an entirely platonic way), had her a little on edge. He chuckled, shaking his head and intending to put her at ease.
"Of course not, love. Just admiring your flair for interior design."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, that was all Mary-Margaret," when he looked at her quizzically, she realized he probably had no idea who that was, "Uh, sorry, that's David's wife. She likes to mother anything that sits still in front of her for more than three seconds. She practically single-handedly turned my mostly-empty apartment into a home in one afternoon. I barely had more than a sofa, a mattress, and a TV when I first moved in. She dragged me around at least a dozen flea markets and upcycling places, and turned my apartment into...well, this. A home, I guess. The artwork - that's what she does. Well, she's a teacher. But she paints as a side thing, and she's really good. All the art I have in this place is her work. So yeah, it's mostly thanks to her that I have a decorated apartment, and even an actual bed, rather than just a mattress on the floor."
Listening to her speak so warmly about the people in her life who had taken it upon themselves to become her family, made Killian's heart soar just a little.
"They care about you very much," he smiled, "I gathered that from the first day we met. And it's wonderful to have people like that in your life. They don't have to be blood related to be your family."
Emma nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she turned back to her task of putting her clothes, one-handed, into the dresser.
"How long have you extended your stay at the hotel for?"
She asked, changing the subject. Killian frowned, before realization dawned on him. She knew he hadn't left the hospital for a week, but she didn't know he'd checked out of the hotel and was essentially couch surfing until he either found another hotel to lodge in, or continued crashing on Will's sofa. He hadn't booked a flight back to Virginia yet, though he knew he'd have to return at some point to organize the life he'd left there.
"Well, I actually checked out," he said sheepishly, and she turned back to look at him with a curious expression, "I didn't have much use for my hotel room considering I didn't leave your hospital room for a week."
Emma's eyes widened a little, but she quickly schooled her expression into something more casual, her words careful but slightly uncertain when she replied.
"So...you need a place to crash…"
"Will was kind enough to lend me his sofa-"
At Emma's obvious wince, he raised his eyebrows and she shook her head with a short laugh.
"You're braver than me. I slept on that thing once and my back has never been the same. You're not planning on suffering that contraption again, are you?" When he scratched nervously behind his ear and shrugged, she bit her lip, "Look, the least I can do is offer to put you up until you go back to Virginia. You did help save my life, after all. My sofa is much more comfortable than Will's, too."
She smiled, but he could read her nervousness in the way she knotted her hands together and kept dropping her gaze. With every mention of him returning to Virginia, his stomach dropped. He didn't know if bringing it up was her way of subtly asking him when he'd be leaving, but her pointed reference of the sofa told him clearly where the boundaries lay now that they were in her territory.
Nevertheless, he smiled back, despite the whispers in the back of his mind that told him she was pulling away.
"I appreciate that, love. I don't wish to be a burden though-"
"You're not," she cut him off firmly, "Honestly, it's fine. I'm uh...not really used to having anyone stay over, but I can't send you back to the death-trap of Will's sofa."
She chuckled, shaking her head. The truth was, she wanted him there. But she didn't know to say that without either sounding clingy, or giving him false hope. After all, he had to leave soon, and she was doing her best to prepare herself for that, keeping a safe distance for fear that she wouldn't be able to resist kissing him again if she lingered in his personal space too long. So, she settled for the excuse of letting him stay with her to save him from the perils of sleeping on Will's sofa. He seemed to buy it, at least.
"Then I graciously accept. And insist on you letting me buy us a takeout dinner of your choice in return."
He gave her a winning smile and she rolled her eyes.
"Alright, I suppose I can allow that. Help me grab some sheets to make the sofa up?"
She gestured to the top shelf in her closet, where bedsheets sat neatly folded. He reached up and grabbed a few, before following her back into the living room. He insisted he could manage to make up the sofabed by himself after dinner, mindful that she currently only had full use of one arm, and she relented, even though she knew he was only doing so to save her stubbornly struggling to do it.
They ordered dinner from Emma's favorite takeout place, and Killian tried not to think about the last time they'd sat in her living room eating junk food. It had been the night before they went undercover, and they'd shared a moment, just before the delivery guy had interrupted them and spooked Emma into backing off.
He could tell she was a little jittery, just like she had been that night. He suspected that having him on her turf, in contrast to the neutral ground of the Lexington house, was what had her feeling that way. All he could do was try to put her at ease by keeping the topics of conversation light and making her laugh. Because everytime she laughed, he saw her walls waver and come down again, ever so slightly.
But once they'd cleared away the empty pizza boxes, settling back onto the sofa with a lot less awkwardness than before, Emma looked at him carefully. He could see she was fighting some kind of inner battle with herself, and finally she sighed, wrapping her good arm across the slinged one, and dropping her gaze.
"Can I...ask you something?"
"Anything," he replied immediately, turning to face her slightly from the other end of the sofa.
There was a long beat of silence, as she tried to put all her jumbled thoughts together into words. Still staring at some invisible spot on the coffee table, when words finally passed her lips, they were barely more than a hoarse whisper.
"No one's told me much. I haven't asked, I guess. And I...I can't remember the night very clearly, after the first time I got shot. I don't know what's a real memory and what's not…"
Killian felt the familiar lump in his throat that he was sure was similar to hers, as she haltingly stumbled over her words, and gave her time and space to get them out.
"Is he...is Neal...did you arrest him, or is he...is he dead?"
Killian swallowed the lump, clenching his jaw at the sound of the man's name. He didn't deserve one more second of Emma's time, when he'd already caused her so much pain throughout her life. He tentatively shifted closer to her, watching for any signs that she was uncomfortable with it, but instead she just raised her gaze to meet his and bit her lip.
"He's gone, Emma," Killian said gently, "He tried to...as soon as he raised that gun to you, he was a dead man. And now he's gone and he'll never hurt you, or your son, ever again."
Emma crumbled then, hot tears slipping down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging. It was part relief, part...something she couldn't quite label. It was like all the air had been punched out of her lungs, yet somehow the vice that had been around them since she got home was suddenly letting her breathe again. The juxtaposition of emotions, warring for dominance, had the tears flowing freely.
Killian didn't hesitate to gently wrap his arms around her, despite the awkwardness of her slinged arm between them, but he knew that words weren't what she needed in that moment, so he simply let her cry in his arms.
When her sobs subsided, she gingerly pulled back, wiping her eyes with one hand and mumbling an apology for getting his shirt wet, but he brushed it off with a shake of his head.
"I don't even know what I'm feeling, or why I'm crying. I'm glad he's dead. He hurt me so many times; he's one of the main reasons I'm such a fucked up mess-"
"Emma. Stop. You're not a mess. You're a woman who's been through more than most people could handle in a lifetime, and you're the strongest person I've ever met. It's not a weakness to feel vulnerable, or to let it out by having a good cry. Feeling things, even if you don't know what you feel, is strength, and I-..."
He cut himself off, a deer-in-headlights expression flashing across his face momentarily before he swallowed and schooled his features into something more passive. Emma stared at him, her breath caught in her throat.
"And you...what?"
She whispered. There was a long beat of silence, the words they both knew he'd been about to say now burning his mouth. The silence was just about long enough for Emma to lose her nerve, and she dropped her gaze, clearing her throat and pushing herself up off the sofa with her good arm.
"I, uh...we should get the sofa set up for you."
She said stiffly, gesturing toward the bedsheets they'd left on the sideboard. Killian felt disappointment and frustration with himself sink to the pit of his stomach and he nodded numbly, fetching the sheets as she moved the throw cushions out of the way.
It hadn't been the right time. That's what he was trying to tell himself as they turned the sofa into his bed for the night. He'd just told her that he'd killed her ex-boyfriend, the man who had held her and her son hostage in yet another traumatic experience the son of a bitch had gifted her with. Telling her he loved her right after that, with tears still on her cheeks and emotional exhaustion evident in her eyes...it wasn't the way he'd imagined it, to say the least.
But the tiny spark of hope in her eyes...had he imagined it? Was it wishful thinking that she might want him to say those words, to hope that she might feel it too?
CS
It took him almost an hour to finally drift off to sleep. The sofa was surprisingly comfortable, but his thoughts were too loud for him to settle easily. Emma had retreated to her room earlier, with a tentative kiss to his cheek and a mumbled goodnight, her door clicking closed and leaving him to overthink every aspect of their conversation in the deafening silence.
It was just as he was slipping into sleep that a blood-curdling scream had him bolting upright, immediately wide awake once more. Stumbling over his own feet in an attempt to untangle himself from the blanket, he rushed dazedly down the hallway to Emma's room, throwing open the door without hesitation.
Emma was still screaming out, thrashing, her whole body gripped by whatever terrors were haunting her in sleep. Killian was by her side in a split second, grabbing hold of her shoulders and gently, yet firmly, shaking her out of her nightmare, conscious of her injuries but desperate to bring her back to him. Her hair was matted to her head, her whole body shaking and drenched in a cold sweat. She sagged in his hold as she slowly came back around to full consciousness.
"Emma, darling, it was just a nightmare. He can't hurt you anymore. I'm here, I've got you, love."
He pulled her gently into his arms, his heart breaking as he felt the way she was still trembling. This time was worse than the last night terror he'd woken her from.
"Just a nightmare…"
She whispered hoarsely, as though to try and convince herself.
"Aye, just a nightmare. Let me get you a change of clothes," he flicked on her bedside lamp and she flinched. "You're drenched...oh, love, you're bleeding."
Emma gave a start as Killian gestured to the blood stains on her tank top and the bed sheets. She grimaced.
"Ugh, I guess I popped some stitches."
"Go take a shower, Swan. I'll sort this out. Then you can tell me where you keep your first aid kit and we can patch you up as best we can."
Emma was still in a bit of a daze, her trembling now turning into shivering courtesy of the cool air on her damp skin. She nodded, allowing him to help her up from the bed on slightly unsteady legs. She disappeared into the bathroom connected to her room then, and Killian quickly stripped the bed, tossing the sheets to the laundry and grabbing some clean sheets from the drawer she'd taken his bedsheets and blanket from earlier.
By the time Emma returned from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and looking much less dazed and in shock than she had before her shower, Killian had made up her bed, set a glass of water and some Advil on her bedside table, and found a clean set of PJ shorts and a tank top for her.
Emma was touched by the gestures, not accustomed to being cared for and looked after the way Killian was doing. He'd witnessed two of her nightmares now, and hadn't gone running in the opposite direction.
"I'll give you some privacy to change," he ducked his head, not wishing to make her uncomfortable by standing there as she changed, and gestured to the door, "if you wish to direct me to your first aid kit, I can get some dressings ready for that wound you opened."
The bleeding had mostly stopped now, but she knew she should keep it covered seeing as she'd popped two stitches from her chest drain site.
"It's in the laundry room, on the top shelf of the cupboard...and Killian?" he paused in the doorway when she called his name, and looked back at her, "Thank you, for looking after me like this. You don't have to-"
"I want to."
"I know."
He gave her that small, hopeful smile that made her stomach flip then, before he turned and left the room to fetch the first aid kit. He waited a little while before returning with it, and when he did, she was perched on the edge of her bed with her clean tank top pulled up, doing her best to inspect the wound on the right side of her chest, under her arm.
"It's pretty much stopped bleeding now. Just stings like a bitch."
She sighed, meeting Killian's gaze as he sat down beside her and peered at the wound.
"I found a few dressings in here," he held up the first aid kit, "One of them should suffice. Looks like you've maybe popped one or two stitches."
As gently as he could, he swiped an antiseptic wipe over the wound, giving her an apologetic look when she hissed in pain. Then he secured a gauze dressing over it and secured it with tape.
"That should hold. As long as you don't do anymore karate in your sleep."
He joked, trying to lighten her mood. She smiled weakly as she gingerly pulled down her tank top. Once he'd packed up the first aid kit, she grabbed his hand.
"I really did mean it. Thank you."
"Don't mention it, love," he smiled, standing up, "Try to get some more sleep, Swan. You know where I'll be if you need me."
"Wait...don't...please don't leave me alone," the slight edge of panic in her tone, and the flash of it he saw in her eyes, made Killian's heart wrench, "Can you...stay?"
"Of course I can, darling. I won't leave your side for a moment, if that's what you wish."
He put the first aid kit down on the dresser, and walked over to the comfy chair in the corner, beside her bed. It was almost like they were back in the hospital again, he mused, with him sitting by her side and keeping vigil over her as she slept. But at least now he didn't have the fear of her not waking up.
"You don't have to sleep in the chair, Killian. I'm not gonna ask you to do that, jeez. Get in the bed."
She rolled her eyes to mask the sudden awkwardness she felt. Sleeping next to him in their fake marital home was somehow very different to inviting him into her bed, her space that she'd never shared with any man before (not including Will, because he didn't count in that context). Even without a sexual element, sleeping beside Killian in her own bed was unchartered territory, and it made her feel skittish. But the idea of not having him within arm's reach as she gave herself over to sleep again unsettled her too, so she'd made a split second decision and pulled back the blanket on the other side of the bed in invitation.
He paused, studying her expression for any sign of uncertainty, making sure she was absolutely comfortable with the situation before proceeding, as always. It made her heart surge with affection for him, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile, silently telling him she was sure in what she was asking.
"Alright, love. If you're sure."
He rounded the bed and climbed in cautiously beside her, making sure not to invade her personal space. Once he was settled, she switched off the bedside lamp with a soft, "Goodnight, Killian."
"Goodnight, Emma."
He lay awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the dark and listening to her soft breathing beside him. But he couldn't help but wish for the previous comfort they'd found when sharing a bed in the Lexington house. He knew it was different here. This was her private space, that she'd admitted to never sharing with anyone else, and he knew it had to be an unnerving adjustment for her to have him sleeping there beside her now.
"Killian?" She suddenly whispered, and he blinked in surprise, having thought she'd drifted off already, "Are you awake?"
"Aye, lass. Are you okay?"
He turned over to face her in the dark, and she turned her head to face him. She could only sleep on her back at the moment, with the restrictions of her shoulder injury and the limited movements she could make without pain from her chest wound.
"Yeah...I just can't sleep. Could you, maybe...hold me?"
Killian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he was somewhat glad she couldn't see him properly through the darkness.
"I'm never going to say no to that, darling."
He immediately shuffled closer to her, always mindful of not making any movements that could jolt her or cause her pain, and they shifted into a comfortable position. He lay on his side, one arm under her head, and the other resting across her waist, fingers tenderly stroking across the silky skin of her hip that was exposed where her tank top rode up slightly. She leaned her head closer, to rest on his shoulder, and sighed softly.
"This is better."
Killian simply nodded into the darkness, pressing a gentle kiss into her hair. Sleep claimed them quickly after that, as they both fell into the first peaceful sleep they'd had in over a week.
CS
NB: I was yelled at by both Tori and Irene for the lack of CS kissing. They have a CS kissing problem, clearly. I promise to TRY and rectify that next chapter lol! Hopefully it won't be too long until the next chapter is up, but with the current circumstances with my job, I'll only have rare moments to sit down and write. Thank you for always being so patient with me. And if you feel like leaving a review, I will always be eternally appreciative!
