Chapter 19 - The Key
Emma had way too much time to think while she waited for the cops to officially process Collins.
Time she spent staring at Killian as he leaned casually against the wall opposite her chair, intentionally far enough away she couldn't give in to temptation. His shirt was thankfully buttoned back to its usual height, but even in the horrible fluorescent lighting he still caught the eye of every person who entered the room.
I have to maintain some type of professionalism .
They had both settled into a contemplative silence that should have been awkward, especially after the vitriol Collins had spewed at her in the cab until they'd silenced him.
The guy had erupted when Emma joined them, although given Collins's attacks, it had less to do with being caught as she slapped the handcuffs on, and more about her doing it before he'd had alone time with "the Captain."
Killian's obvious fury only seemed to arouse Collins, encouraging him to continue.
That was until Killian pulled a roll of duct tape from the voluminous folds of his coat . "Perhaps this will help, love. I'd silence him with my hook, but I'm afraid he'd quite enjoy that."
But as the precinct took its sweet time, the awkwardness failed to materialize— we really do make quite the team —and any existing tension was of the sexual kind.
Emma couldn't stop reliving the searing look in Killian's eyes after she'd kissed him...
I thought he was going to take me against the wall of the coat closet.
I blame the rum. There's a good chance he's drunk. Or at the very least, more tipsy than I've ever seen him before. I was starting to believe he was immune to alcohol somehow.
Yeah, but you didn't even drink that shot of tequila. What's your excuse?
Can you blame me? The man is dressed to sin and according to pages ten through fourteen, Killian is really, really good at fulfilling desires.
If you don't stop staring at him you'll get yourselves arrested for indecent exposure or lewd conduct.
By the time Emma finally received the receipt for her skip thirty minutes later, she had mostly distracted herself by creating a list of five things she needed to do in the near future.
1. Add duct tape to her list of bounty hunting supplies. She needed a roll for her purse and to see if there was a mini, travel-sized version she could hide with her handcuffs when she wore honey trap dresses.
2. Find out when Killian had learned about duct tape and how the hell he fit a regular roll of it into his jacket pockets. Also, how many pockets did he have in that thing?
3. Buy Killian some very frumpy cloaks or shirts or maybe some ugly sweaters to wear outside of the apartment. Maybe some lightweight ones for summer, or baggy long sleeved T-shirts. Nothing with a vee neck or buttons he could leave undone when out in public. Just… because.
4. Stick to the book analogy and see if Killian knew the contents of any of the missing chapters, then find a way to use it so she could stop feeling like an amnesiac or crazy person.
5. Collaborate on pages ten through fourteen, and if that didn't help them remember more, get creative and see if the déjà vu kicked in.
Since Emma planned on having Killian to herself the rest of the night, she could procrastinate items one through three on her list until Henry was back. Item four was where she should logically start, but what if she triggered one of Killian's headaches? Would speaking in fictional hypotheticals really be enough to keep him safe?
It did work earlier this afternoon.
Yes, but…
But you're horny and ridiculously turned on?
It's not just that...
It was that her body had somehow remembered a past with Killian when her mind believed he was a stranger, constantly compelling her to break whatever ground rules she tried to set. It was how if she went too long without his physical presence, aka the recently discovered Killian Kryptonite Effect, any memories or moments referring to the truth of such a past faded away completely.
I am so sick of forgetting, of the damn fog, of letting someone screw with my head!
Emma and Killian could talk about their stories all night, but even if he magically filled in the earlier parts of her book, what was to keep her from forgetting them again once she went to work? Or to sleep in her bed? Wouldn't those bits join everything else she'd learned and continue vanishing?
Kissing Killian and sleeping next to him were physical things. The Kryptonite Effect didn't work over the phone, it was 100% physical. The more tactile her contact with him, the longer she remembered.
So, what, if you taste and touch all of him, you won't forget again?
Something like that.
You'd be using him. Especially if he's intoxicated.
I wouldn't… it's not like that!
What is it like then?
"Swan?" Killian's voice was too deep, too husky, and too sexy. He'd likely sobered up over the last hour as Emma didn't detect any sign of drunkenness.
Or maybe his tolerance was still intact and you imagined it?
Emma turned from the officer who had given her the receipt and met Killian's concerned gaze. "Ready to go home?" She almost winced, the question sounding more like one of Hook's innuendos versus the breezy attempt she'd been going for.
Smooth. Real smooth. You might as well skywrite your intentions. He reads you too damn well.
Sure enough, Emma's words relit the fire in Killian's eyes, as though the hungry pirate had been simply lurking beneath the friendly roommate. He strode toward her and she waited, anticipation flooding her as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.
Finally .
But then Killian stopped a few feet away and shook his head as if to clear it, breaking eye contact. His hand lifted, his fingers scratching his neck. When his gaze finally met hers again, the vulnerability in his expression nearly floored her. Emma swore she could hear "Please, love," though his lips hadn't moved.
"Please. If you care at all about what we might become, you'll adhere to my condition."
Emma's heart ached, like a hand reached inside and squeezed it too tight.
I do care. I care too much.
Run!
Her feet carried her closer to the exit before Emma could even think about it, but Killian blocked the direct path to the door. Somehow Emma could smell rum and leather over the scent of burned coffee and stale cigarette smoke that had permeated most precincts for decades before smoking had been banned. Instead of veering around him and getting the hell out, she stubbornly sought his hand with hers. Killian didn't resist as she linked their fingers together.
This time it was Killian's fake hand that rubbed on the back of his neck—he'd switched attachments in the taxi at her suggestion to ensure a rookie cop didn't mistake his hook for a weapon, as well as removing the ability to stab Collins. "There's a place we should visit before we head home." The vulnerability in his eyes now mingled with an emotion that blindsided her: fear.
The remnants of Emma's dinner churned in her stomach.
What could Killian possibly be afraid of?
He's only shown fear when he's worried about you…
Run, run, run away. Deal with this crap another day.
Emma's mouth opened, ready to argue her case for heading back to their apartment when he squeezed her hand and continued.
"I believe it will help you with the writing of some of those earlier chapters you've left blank, love." The fear morphed into encouragement, but it didn't erase Emma's trepidation.
Or the urge to shut him up with her lips.
It shouldn't even be possible to feel both things at once.
It took a minute for her to dampen her hormones long enough to decipher Killian's meaning: she'd been in New York before and somehow he knew where.
How the… I don't remember being in New York with Killian.
You aren't sure where any of those memories happened, except the ones in his cabin. You said you wanted to remember, right? That you needed physical reminders, not just words?
Not what I had in mind…
"Fine." Emma blurted out her agreement before she could make an excuse, or worse, tell Killian that she already knew the ending she wanted and the past wouldn't change it. She did want to remember her life, her real one, and maybe this place would trigger enough of those missing chapters that Killian would stop fighting the exploration of item five.
Preferably before the night was out.
Better get moving.
Emma walked around Killian, not missing his look of relief before tugging him toward the exit.
She didn't let go of his hand, savoring the heat building between their palms, the sparks racing through her body at the contact as Killian's thumb occasionally stroked along her skin. She didn't release him until she was forced to when they climbed into the cab he had hailed. Needing, craving, the contact again, Emma intentionally nudged him to sit on the left side, scooting in after him while Killian used the opportunity to trade the fake hand for the hook. The familiar click reminded her of the coat closet, Killian zipping up her dress, and the night in his cabin.
Your underwear has been wet all night for a reason…
"...I would like very much to slide my fingers along the insides of your lovely legs to where they meet and see if you are as wet for me as I am hard for you."
Emma quickly sought out Killian's hand again before she did something incredibly stupid— or perfect —and checked to see if his arousal matched hers. Hopefully there is time for that later, when you aren't stuck in a cab unable to do anything about it. She was so focused on doing so, a sigh of relief escaping as his warmth met hers, that she missed the address Killian spouted off to the taxi driver.
Does it matter?
I trust him.
Unsure of how long the ride would take, Emma scooted closer to Killian until their sides aligned, his jacket crinkling against her weight. She leaned her head into him, just happy to touch him after the torture of watching him act as bait.
Killian muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Bloody hell," as his grip tightened in hers, and Emma just smiled.
Because soon, hopefully very soon, Killian would realize that a man of honor would embrace item five, satisfying not only their memories, but their bodies.
And how is that not using him? He wants more.
"I don't want a single night with you; I want them all."
Emma thought of all the nights spent on the couch together. How the first time was just worried concern, how she learned if she stayed next to Killian the compulsions were semi-satisfied, making her less likely to give in to the urge to kiss him or to broach the friends with benefits thing again. Then discovering later how being physically close to him held the fog at bay.
How even if none of those things were true, one simple fact remained: Emma couldn't imagine a life without Killian.
I want them all too.
Shit!
Emma ignored her urge to bolt, the demand to jump out of the moving cab because admitting such a thing meant she'd be sure to lose it… to lose him.
After all, no one meant more to her than Henry, and twelve years of memories with him proved happiness was possible, that not everyone would leave.
Killian grunted next to her, giving her hand another little squeeze. "Easy there, Swan. You don't want to crush the only hand I have left."
"Sorry."
Maybe her death grip had to do with all of the weird circulation issues she'd had in the bar and she needed to make a doctor's appointment.
Why do I feel like Wile E. Coyote and a boulder is about to be dropped on my head?
Emma snuggled closer to Killian, feeling his sigh, the perfection of moment not enough to counteract the feeling she'd just jinxed everything and things were about to fall apart.
Killian wondered if this would be the last time Emma would hold his hand. At least for the near future.
It's likely due to those bloody compulsions. I shouldn't even be holding her hand now.
He couldn't bring himself to release her.
"Does this look familiar at all, Swan?" 89 Wooster Street loomed before them, the night casting a sinister glow that somehow exacerbated the dingy exterior instead of hiding it.
"Should it?" Emma's voice gave away nothing, but the rigidity of her body spoke quite clearly.
Killian stared at the building, afraid to witness the moment her memories returned, particularly ones of his behavior within the walls before him.
"...and for that I now take your life."
She knew when she propositioned you in your cabin.
Aye, but also she knew about my feud with the Crocodile, about the Enchanted Forest. What if only her memories of this place return without the context?
Then Collins won't be the only one locked up tonight.
Bloody hell!
Killian really hadn't thought through all of the possible combinations of Emma's memories returning, his assumption it would be more of all or nothing type thing. But he'd been too busy with tonight's events to truly consider the ramifications of what she'd told him earlier that afternoon when talking about writing her story, that memories had returned, but only bits and pieces of them.
However, the alternative of going back to their apartment together, however pleasurable it might be in the short term, would have far longer lasting and devastating ramifications. At least if he was locked away, he would not have to worry about Emma collaborating by riding his body on their kitchen chair, because damn if any willpower remained to deny her.
"Killian?"
He shoved down his desires and locked them away in the depths of his heart, determined to follow through, no matter the consequence. Unsure if she'd been here during the night or merely the daylight hours and if that had a bearing on her ability to recall, Killian shrugged, trying to imbue it with nonchalance, but unsure if he succeeded. "Perhaps, it's best to go inside and see if it inspires those missing pages of yours."
Emma turned to him, tugging him slightly until he twisted to face her. "Killian, I have a bad feeling about this. Let's just go home."
Yes. Home.
No!
"As enticing as that idea is, I fear it won't yield the answers you truly need. Just try not to kill the messenger, love." Killian pasted on a grin, adding a waggle of his brows to be safe.
Emma studied him, as if applying her super power. Apparently, he'd not hidden his true feelings as well as he'd believed because her free hand came up to brush his brow, so light and delicate, and Killian unwillingly swayed into the touch. "You're worried too. How is this not a bad idea?" Concern and fear shone through her eyes and they hadn't even set foot in the place.
Fix it or this excursion will all be for naught.
"I apologize, Swan. There are… chapters of my book I am not proud of. One of them is set here. Should you be… inspired by this visit and see fit to include it into your own story as well as other… events… it is very possible it will alter any… endings you had in mind." Trying to explain the situation without triggering She Who Shall Not Be Named was akin to walking a narrow path lined with hidden traps, giving no allowance for error. Killian scratched his neck with his hook because he might as well put it all out there while this book analogy worked. "However, a part of me is afraid this visit will fail to… inspire you. Without that, I fear your missing chapters might remain just that."
Despite spending much of his free time searching the city for a magical potion or solution, the Land without Magic had so far lived up to its name, with the sole exception of Emma's magical flare ups. If Neal's apartment didn't jog Emma's memory, Killian worried Emma would insist on trying her idea of collaboration.
Then I will truly be a villain in this tale.
"Actually I… If this doesn't work, I think there's another way to… um… inspire me." A blush formed on Emma's cheeks, her tongue tracing her lips, the opposite reaction Killian had hoped for, confirming his fear about her meaning of "collaborate." She sighed, turning toward the building again. "So what is this place?"
Killian turned as well, glad to be out of her purview. "I think due to the… complicated nature of my writer's block, it is best to have you explore within and save the questions for the end, as some might be answered during your perusal." He also suspected Emma wouldn't set foot in the place if she knew it was Neal's.
"Like why you know about this place and how it's important?"
Killian swallowed. "Aye."
Please, don't hate me for this.
He sensed the weight of her stare, though he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze again. A minute or two passed before the sensation left. Killian heard her breathe deeply, as if stealing herself for what was to unfold. Then Emma strode forward and Killian had no choice but to follow.
He wondered how long it would last, because even if she did not recall their shared past, the articles of mail would reveal that Henry's father had lived here. This Emma and Henry believed Neal knew nothing of the lad's existence. On the off chance Emma reacted favorably to the truth, how was Killian to explain the man's current residence or state of being was as much of a mystery to him as to her?
Killian feared in his best chance to jog her memory he would hurt Emma unnecessarily, handing her hope only to take it away.
Though that would likely pale compared to the knowledge she'd given up her son and that any happiness she recalled from his younger years had been a lie.
No matter what, I am bound to hurt her.
He had to hope that once Emma healed from the pain of any revelations, she'd forgive him and still allow him to be a part of her life.
Emma glanced up at the sky, imagining a piano careening down from above to crush them both.
No. Not a piano. A ridiculously tall ceiling, like a massive skyscraper that lacked all of the floors but the top one. A crumbling too-high ceiling that collapsed and trapped Hook beneath.
That's… new.
Pretty sure this place has regular floors though, so where the hell did that memory come from?
A giant vine… a beanstalk?
That part isn't real. That's my messed up dreaming brain twisting up the memories.
You sure about that?
"No matter what happens this eve, know that I will be by your side as long as you wish." Killian's sincerity, the ring of truth to each word, enveloped Emma like a warm, cozy blanket and she turned to look at him. The over-the-top brow waggle he gave almost made her smile, but Killian's eyes didn't match the teasing. "My hand does require a certain level of circulation, however, so if you could perhaps loosen your hold a tad?"
Emma shifted her gaze to their joined hands, her fingers and Killian's almost white. She struggled to loosen her hold, forcing each finger to relax one at a time. When Killian moved as though he planned to let go entirely, her hand seized tight all over again.
"I was merely going to open the door for us, Swan. But if the lady insists…" Killian gestured at the door with his hook.
Emma forced her hand to relax and was rewarded by a delicate caress from Killian's thumb.
A gust blew between the buildings, creating a wind tunnel that channeled the chill. Emma shivered, unable to tell if it was from the night's air, her anxiety about this place, or Killian's touch.
Probably all three.
Reaching for the door's right handle took all of Emma's strength, like an invisible barrier protected it and she had to push through it.
Or you really, really shouldn't be doing this and your body is fighting your own stupidity.
Killian's thumb feathered along her hand again and the door whipped open, as if the resistance had been cut off, revealing a dirty, dimly lit and depressing lobby.
Why the hell would I have been here? To catch a skip? Was it Killian I caught and he's embarrassed?
"Ladies first, darling." There was a bite to Killian's tone, one that completely contradicted the patterns he traced against her skin.
Yeah, that has to be it. I dragged his butt back to jail. That would explain everything.
Then why did you tie him to a tree?
Maybe I couldn't find my handcuffs?
Better hurry or you definitely won't have time to explore option five tonight.
"Okay, let's do this." She tossed a brave smile at Killian, taking note of how his smile in response still failed to reach his eyes, his face otherwise wiped of emotion. Before she could chicken out, Emma stepped through the door, pulling Killian along behind her.
The lobby had certainly not improved since Killian had paid the previous month's rent and the inadequate lighting only enhanced the sensation of being locked in a brig. The tiny lobby wasn't much bigger than his cabin aboard the Jolly Roger and Emma brought them to a halt only a few paces after crossing the threshold. The door closed behind them, the sound rather ominous to his ears.
And Killian waited, studying Emma for any reaction, a hint of recognition or fear or damn well anything to signal the return of her memories.
She did not move from her spot, merely twisted her body, craning her neck as she took in the entire lobby. All her face yielded was a general expression of confusion, but her hand threatened to crush his own yet again, the pressure reminiscent of a drowning sailor holding on to a lifeline.
Like he, Killian Jones, was the Savior in this scenario.
Only because you're the one putting her into harm's way. She doesn't want to do this.
She doesn't want a life of lies either. This needs to bloody work.
Killian chose to deal with the slight discomfort in what might be the last time she sought such intimacy. Whether caused by compulsion or otherwise, the touch was an insight into Emma's thoughts and emotions.
Talk to her, you fool. She's still the new Emma. She will likely share any details she's gleaned.
For now, perhaps.
"Anything you care to share, Swan?" The lightheartedness Killian had aimed for was absent in his tone, his concern far too apparent.
So much for hiding your emotions.
Bloody hell!
A frown formed between Emma's brows "I… It's… It's setting off my déjà vu like crazy, and I still think this is a bad idea."
Killian flicked his gaze to the dented trash can along the side. "So you aren't getting any… ideas of missing scenes from your book?"
Abject apology painted her face, like she had failed him and caused the issue, not whatever had wreaked havoc on her memories. "Sorry, but… uh… my book is a little… weird? I have these conversations and scenes, but it's like…" Emma bit her lip, as if seeking the correct wording, and Killian struggled to keep his body from reading it like a salacious invitation. "It's like my book is really a play." At his confused look, she continued. "You know, like a theatre production? But almost all of the scenes take place in this… spotlight. You can see some of the characters and hear what they say, but the background and set are just… black and unfocused. So, yeah, this place feels familiar, but I can't… write anything that happened here."
Killian tried to contain his relief— I don't want her to remember what I did here, not without the bloody rest of it —even as his mind whirred to find a solution. Unfortunately for him, it did not take long. "You said your sense of déjà vu is quite strong. What does it tell you?"
Emma shuffled her weight from foot to foot, her head twisting around again as if the view had changed in the last few moments.
Perhaps it has in her memories?
His hand trembled along with Emma's, though Killian honestly could not ascertain if it was caused by his own fears, the numbness of his hand, or Emma.
"Swan?" Her name was intentional, deliberate.
Remember.
"I—I didn't want to be here. But I… I had to be for some reason. And it was fine, it wasn't that bad. But then I found… something, I think? Then I really didn't want to be here." She turned towards him, her fear clear in her eyes. "Something scared me, but it wasn't about me. Killian, what the hell happened here?"
Killian swallowed, unsure of all that had transpired in this lobby with Neal and the Crocodile before his arrival, wondering if he had been the threat behind her fear, but knowing he had to continue to push her regardless. "Perhaps the answers will be clearer once we continue inside."
"Do we have to?"
No.
Yes!
"It's all a part of that story you're writing, love. Leaving now won't alter the events from those missing chapters." Only the future ones.
She sighed and her grip lessened slightly. "It's a little late for a package delivery. How do you plan to get through that security gate?"
"Unless you wish to conduct a rather thorough search of my person, you'll have to let go of my hand so I can show you." The words and accompanying leer slipped out before he could stop them, the Captain too easy to slide on for his protection after an evening of playing the role. The last thing Killian needed was Emma to take him up on the offer and he wished like hell he'd never issued the invitation.
Thankfully, Emma didn't take the bait, curiosity apparently winning out as she released him and gave her hand a little shake. "What else do you have hiding in those pockets?"
Killian reached into one of the smaller inner compartments, feeling for the cool metal inside. He brandished the key with flourish, giving a dramatic bow to go along with it.
A flurry of reactions flashed across Emma's face: surprise, amazement, concern, and— bloody hell! —hurt. "How—Killian, why do you have a key to this place?"
Unable to go into the details but needing her to visit the apartment, this time Killian utilized the Captain properly, executing a perfect arrogant smirk. "I am quite the pirate."
"But you are a pirate."
"Yeah, that I am. But I also believe in good form. So when I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me."
Emma's sense of impending doom that had descended in the cab grew stronger, heavier.
Because Emma knew with a clarity she rarely had in New York, that Killian wasn't being dramatic or just using the word lightly, he was telling her the truth.
He is a pirate. An honest-to-God real pirate.
A pirate Captain with a hook for a hand.
Yet, instead of being the dramatic realization it should be, it just settled into all the things about Killian that just fit.
Because a part of you always knew, even before you saw his hook, even when you couldn't remember.
The same hook she now remembered seeing in this very lobby, right where they stood now, raised over another person, poised to kill them, until she'd smashed a trash can over Hook's head.
It was something a normal, sane person would consider a deal breaker for a roommate or a close friend, and definitely a no-no for a romantic relationship.
But… I don't care. It's in the past. I didn't… I wasn't even surprised when it happened. How is that possible?
"To exact revenge on the man who took my hand…"
"He took more than your hand from you, didn't he? That's why you want to kill him."
Hell, not only had Emma known what Hook had wanted to do, she'd understood it. Of course, she'd tried to stop him, hence the trash can, but that didn't make it right.
"He was always the Crocodile to me, but I doubted you wanted your son to hear he was also once a man."
Killian's weirdness, his odd behavior, and the fear she'd detected since they'd left the police precinct suddenly made perfect sense.
Because a normal person would kick a stab-happy pirate guy out of her apartment, out of her life. She would slap a pair of handcuffs on the man and dump him into the cell next to Collins.
Why am I starting to think there is nothing normal about me?
"I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, which apparently makes me the product of true love."
"You've gone quite pale, lass. Did you remember something?"
The sight of Killian grounded Emma again and the odd thought floated away, too concerned about how he leaned nonchalantly against the metal grate instead his usual invading of her space.
"No matter what happens this eve, know that I will be by your side as long as you wish."
He thinks I'm going to make him leave if I remember what happened.
But Killian wasn't that same vengeful pirate anymore. Just like she wasn't a lost street urchin stealing from convenience stores.
The relief that hit her was unexpected, because— shit! —Emma had no idea what had happened to the Crocodile guy afterward. She couldn't even picture the guy's face, either blocked by Hook or faded to the blackness she'd told Killian about earlier.
Had the guy lived? She couldn't imagine covering up a murder, and she was pretty sure the tied-to-a-tree-thing and leaving him behind locked in a manacle had happened before they were in New York. Whatever they'd eventually come to mean to each other, it had happened after Hook had given up on revenge.
"Swan, you're scaring me." Worry furrowed Killian's brows and he still somehow looked like a damn billboard ad for temptation.
Which of course, wasn't anything new. Her magnetic pull towards Killian, both the physical and the far more terrifying emotional one, was one constant between her past and her present, her brain foggy or clear.
Just get this over with so you can explore item five on the list. It's just another bandaid to rip off.
Yeah? Then why am I still afraid to find out what happened here? Because that scared feeling, it's not from seeing Hook stab a guy. It's from something I haven't remembered yet.
"Emma?" The crack of Killian's voice, the desolation seeping through his facade, hit Emma like a physical blow.
Let him know it's okay.
It took only a few steps to reach Killian, but those seconds were enough for him to wipe his face back into another blank mask, the steeled kind a person wore when expecting bad news. Not trusting herself to give Killian the kiss she craved and still follow through with exploring this place, but unable deny she needed to touch him, she brushed her fingers along the scruff of his beard before cupping the back of his head and tugging it down, drawing his forehead to hers. The flutter of his eyelashes and uneven breaths caressed her face and Emma tried to find the words she needed. "Sorry, I got lost in my head. It's fine. I'm okay. We are okay."
"You know, don't you? You know what I—what the Captain in your tale did here." Awe and confusion laced his words, but the uncharacteristic waiver nearly did Emma in.
You're much better with actions than words. Just kiss him.
If I do that, we'll have to find a storage closet because I don't think I'll be able to stop.
Good thing you know where one is.
I—what the hell? I think I do.
"You were right, Killian. This place… it's a minefield of stuff that keeps exploding with bits and pieces of my…my, um, book. It just takes me a bit to… process it and figure out where it fits into the big picture." Her thumb found a lock of his hair—he hadn't cut it since he moved in—and she couldn't help playing with it. "It's fragmented, I can't… I can't see everything and it's frustrating the hell out of me. It's like a really bad movie editing job where they cut important scenes that link everything together." Emma tilted her head up and found his stormy blue eyes waiting. "Did… Did the Crocodile guy… is he...?"
Killian broke the contact, moving so abruptly her hands dropped away and metal clattered as the back of his head smacked into the gate. He closed his eyes, his body so still he might have been stone. "Does the outcome truly matter when the intent was rid the world of his existence?
"Yeah, it kinda does, because I'm trying to fill in these missing chapters and that is sort of an important cliffhanger."
The Captain greeted Emma when Killian opened his eyes, full of the familiar haughty challenge she'd seen him pull on Collins.
And as Captain Hook.
"You need me alive!"
"I told you it's best to save your questions until the end. If you want answers now, you'll have to be the one to find them." Killian finally moved, waving the key before her as if daring her to take it.
A month ago, Emma might have fallen for the act. Maybe even yesterday. But after a night of watching him perform this dance and the fog blown out to sea, she recognized the goading challenge for what it was: a way to get her to drop the subject, do what he'd brought her here to do, and still try to salvage his sanity if she chose to cut him out of her life.
As if I could.
He does have a point though. You'll never get to item five on the list if you don't make it past this lobby.
Emma plucked the key from Killian's fingers, inserting it into the lock as he stumbled, almost tripping in his haste to back away from the gate. He orbited to her side, slightly out of reach, as she twisted the key and yanked the gate open with a screech. "You coming, pirate?" She didn't wait to find out, hurrying through the opening turning left in the hallway, Killian close behind.
As always, I must thank my beta, as she makes my work much better than I can alone. Thank you MsStarlight who listens to my writing rants, finds my mistakes, and makes my stories stronger (and less repetitive).
Reviews are always welcomed. What did you like? Not like (or love to hate)? What are hoping will happen? Etc.. It was a long review that finally brought my muse back after she ran away when I got the flu, so it does help me update faster. :)
