If anyone missed Killian the previous chapters (because who wouldn't miss him, let's be honest) then I have good news: we are getting more Killian now that most of the flashbacks are done! I enjoyed writing this chapter as we dive deeper into the characters backstory and present happenings! I hope you like it too! Let me know :)

TW: implied miscarriage

Chapter 3: Pretty Scary Sometimes

"Emma! Lock the door behind us! We probably won't be back before morning…"

David's voice snapped her back out of her memories and back into the present, and she stared up at her brother with misty eyes. "What?"

"Lock the door behind us," he repeated, shaking his head slightly in disapproval, and hurried out of the kitchen.

Somewhat dazed, she started walking towards the team of Hunters, but by the time she reached the living room, they were all gone. All except Killian, who was still fumbling with his gun holsters.

Her memories still held her a little captive, she stared wearily at the front door. It had been more than half a year, but she would never forget that night or that horrible half an hour she spent in the morgue…

"It can't be him! It's probably a mistake, Neal certainly isn't…" she shook her head and sobbed hysterically.

If David hadn't been holding her, she would have simply fallen awkwardly to the shiny floor.

"Emma! It pains me too, but if he were alive, he would have come back long ago…"

"No! He's not…" she repeated tirelessly, like a broken record. She couldn't comprehend that she had lost Neal along with the little one…

"Are you sure?" The coroner stared doubtfully at Emma, and there was also a hint of pity and contempt in his gaze.

Of course. To him, he was just a corpse, but to her…

"She won't calm down until then…" David sighed somewhat bitterly and stared at the white-covered body in front of them.

"All right," the coroner shrugged.

He was a short, broad, and severely balding man, with gray hair and several days of white stubble. He reached for the edge of the sheet with his stubby fingers, but before he could pull the fabric aside, a brutally burned hand slid off the autopsy table.

The breath caught in her throat, and she suddenly forgot how to breathe. They were long, thin fingers, just like Neal's. The skin was burned almost black, cartilage showing on the fingers.

"Maybe it was a bad idea..." David whispered, pulling her head to his chest and trying to shield her vision. He tried to soothe her, even though she was no longer sobbing anymore. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped for air.

"I think so, too. She's quite neurotic," the doctor grunted.

"Just keep your mouth shut! We didn't ask for your opinion," David snorted.

"Sorry," he muttered in a mocking tone and sauntered off.

He grabbed something from the table and handed Robin a plastic bag containing a sooty, burnt box. "We found this a few feet from the body. Does it look familiar?" The doctor scanned the faces of the Hunters impassively.

"Oh my God…"

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"Shit…"

Emma didn't understand their outburst, she just saw the horror and shock on their faces.

"What's that?" Mary Margaret glanced at the tiny box with watery eyes.

The others, on the other hand, didn't seem to have heard the question at all, staring uncertainly at each other and the box.

"Can we have this?" inquired Robin.

"Of course. We don't need it," replied the doctor.

"How generous," Leo said.

"David, what do you think? Should we give it to her?" Robin stared at her uncertainly.

"What's in it?" Emma asked in a husky voice. "Is it something of Neal's?"

"No. It's yours," Ruby replied gently.

"No, it's not mine," she shook her head. It wasn't at all familiar to her.

"But what's inside is yours," David replied, nodding to Robin, who opened the plastic bag and carefully pulled the box out. "Emma… you probably would've figured it out or guessed, it's better to just rip the band-aid now," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Emma raised her head suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"I'm sure Neal would have been happy to see you wearing it…" he added carefully. "He was going to ask you to marry him that night…"

Robin opened the small box. Inside, her engagement ring remained perfectly intact…

She opened her eyes slowly and raised her hand in front of her face. The ring still glittered on her finger. It was made of white gold, and the most beautiful amber she had ever seen shone upon it. It was terribly painful to realize what a wonderful night it could have been, and instead, it ended with the death of her boyfriend and unborn baby. They could have been a family.

But she wore it, despite the pain it caused when she looked at it. She could still feel him a little close to her. It hurt, but not so much that she couldn't bear it.

"Swan, are you all right?" Killian was already standing on the doorstep, eyeing her anxiously.

"I'm fine," she nodded, but her tone was the slightest bit sharper than she'd intended.

"Apologies." He turned away, but she gently grasped his arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you or anything. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's alright, love." His lips twisted into a faint, understanding smile.

His good manners were sometimes in stark contrast to his appearance. His dark, almost black hair, disheveled as always, brushed against his forehead now, in need of a haircut. The thick stubble on his face was peppered here and there with a hint of ginger if the light fell on him at the right angle. His right ear was pierced and adorned with a solid black stone earring. There was no room for new tattoos on his left arm, various drawings of a compass, skull and crossbones, symbols, and plants were inked into his skin, likely to hide the age-old scar that ran from his wrist to his bicep. He also accentuated his eyes with black eyeliner, making his arctic blue eyes stand out as prominently as the North Star in the dark sky.

He wore his signature black outfit - jeans, a shirt that was always missing a few buttons at the top to reveal a generous patch of dark hair, leather jacket, and combat boots.

All in all, he looked like a textbook bad boy, which was why Emma preferred to keep her distance from him.

"You better get going," she remarked as the front door closed behind the others.

"They won't leave without me, anyway. Who would look out for them?" he let out a laugh, attaching a pistol holster to his hip. "Take care, ladies," he nodded to her from the other side of the doorstep, then disappeared into the night after the others.

Emma retreated into the apartment and carefully locked the door, padlocking it as a precaution. No one could say she hadn't heeded their warning.

"Are they gone?" Mary Margaret sank down on the couch.

"Yeah," Emma nodded and plopped down next to her friend.

She closed her eyes, leaned against the headrest, and stared up at the ceiling.

"I wonder what they're trying to accomplish with all this," Mary Margaret shook her head. "Rebellions everywhere, in almost every country. They can't defeat us, so what do they want?"

"I don't care what they want. All the damn beasts need to be wiped out," Emma hissed.

Ever since that night, she hated those monsters even more, and honestly, who could blame her?

Mary Margaret only hummed and nodded, and for a long time, neither of them said a word.

After a few minutes, her friend broke the silence: "Don't you miss it? Our old life?"

"What do you mean?" Emma glanced at her.

"When we went to college and this craziness hadn't started yet," Mary Margaret replied, and Emma raised one of her eyebrows.

"I don't miss it. If there's anything I miss, it's...him. But nothing else."

"Maybe you should take the ring off. It always reminds you of him. It's been over seven months. I know you don't want to hear this, but sooner or later, you're going to have to move on. There's life after Neal."

If it wasn't Mary Margaret sitting in front of her, telling her that, she probably would have slapped her or, at the very least, made her leave. But Mary Margaret was different. Emma knew she wanted the best for her, and she had much better insight into her situation than she did.

"I can't," Emma shook her head. "It would be like...I don't know. It would be like I was denying him or something."

"No," Mary Margaret objected vehemently. "It wouldn't be like that. To be honest, I didn't agree with the others when they gave you that damn ring. It was like twisting the knife that was already in your heart. If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have told you he was going to ask you to marry him. Sooner or later, you may have realized it yourself, though. Would it have been easier for you if there had been no ring?"

"Maybe," she breathed, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Her gaze soon drifted to her ring. Maybe she really did need to take it off. "I don't know yet… Maybe in time," she replied.

"My advice is not to hesitate too long. It will be easier after that, believe me."

"I hope so," she smiled finally.

She was startled awake by the ringing of her phone. The rays of the full moon broke on the dry branches of the trees in the woods behind the house, and the silvery light painted indelible patterns on her bedspread with the shadows.

She forgot to close the blinds.

Her phone buzzed again and, still a little sleepy, she rolled onto her side in the huge double bed. She pulled aside the dark green canopy and reached for the vibrating device on the nightstand.

She glanced at the caller ID.

Of course.

Only David would call her in the middle of the night.

"What happened? Are you okay?" she immediately straightened up in her bed, holding her breath, waiting for her brother's answer.

"You're about to find out. We'll be home in five minutes. In the meantime, open the door and get the couch ready for Ruby." His voice sounded calm and Emma concluded that they couldn't be in too much trouble.

She ended the call, jumped up from the bed, and yanked open the door to her room. She ran down the hall and hopped down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. When she reached the front door, she took off the padlock, pulled out the deadbolt, unlocked the door, and opened it wide.

She ran back to the couch and tossed all the unnecessary things off of it. A couple of remotes, two blankets, and a few pillows landed on the cherry wood floor. Just as she stood up, she could hear the hurried footsteps of David and the others.

"Let me go! I can walk on my own two feet!" Ruby's voice sounded rather irritated, but her statement was immediately followed by a loud thud.

"I can see that," David hissed angrily, with a slight note of mockery in his tone. "Jones, if you will! She already tried to claw my eyes out…"

David marched into the apartment like an angry boar. He dropped his gun on the coffee table and sank into one of the black leather chairs. Leo and Robin nervously scurried into the living room, followed by Killian with Ruby in his arms.

Ruby stubbornly struggled against Killian, trying to break free of his grip, but he held her tight. It didn't matter that she could easily stand up to two guys, she couldn't outmaneuver Killian.

Killian wisely turned his face away from Ruby's tiny but sharp fingernails and carefully laid her on the couch.

"If any of you dare touch me again, I'll castrate you!" she growled, and then hissed, a grimace on her face immediately following.

"What happened?" Emma crouched down beside the brunette in horror.

"Can we go to your room?" Ruby pleaded desperately.

"No. She's been shot," David replied before getting up from the chair and drifting into the bathroom.

"What? Have you lost your minds? Why didn't you take her to a hospital?" Emma snapped, glaring at Leo and Robin.

"It was a miracle that we were even able to carry her here," Robin shrugged.

"I'll live," Ruby growled, but tears were running quietly down her face from the pain and exertion.

"Only if I take the bullet out and tend to the wound," David nodded.

"Ruby, we have to do this," Emma sat down next to her on the couch and took her hand.

She knew full well that she didn't like to be touched when she was injured. Ruby blinked up at David in alarm, disgust written all over her beautiful face. "Only you, David. No one else…" she moaned in a fading voice.

"All right, so be it. Let me over there, Emma. Take a look at Killian's arm until then."

She got up from the couch, grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a bandage from the pile of medical supplies scattered on the table, and walked purposefully toward Killian, who stood silently by the banister.

"There's really no need," he shook his head with a forced smile when she reached him. "It's just a scratch, love, really not that serious."

"Not you, too."

"I don't—"

"Show me. I really don't have the patience for that right now, Killian," she interrupted him.

She didn't know what to make of the look he gave her. His impossibly blue eyes reflected annoyance, fear, and confusion all at once, but he soon relented and reluctantly peeled off his black leather jacket. The left sleeve of his shirt was completely soaked with blood.

He rolled up his sleeve. At first, she didn't see a wound under his many tattoos, it was hard for her to notice any damage done to his skin other than the scar that was already there. But as she scanned his arm she soon found a cut that seemed far too tiny for the amount of blood that adorned his clothing and skin. There was barely any blood flowing from it now.

"What the…" her eyes widened as she ran her finger over the wound, but Killian didn't even flinch. Right before her eyes, the cut disappeared under the ship wheel — or helm, as he called it — which wrapped around his bicep. "Killian," she stared at him, dumbfounded.

A mere Mage wouldn't be able to do that, even if he had as much power as Killian.

"There were Elves among my ancestors," he shrugged, his face becoming an imperturbable, grim mask. His gaze seemed petrified, expressionless.

That explained some strange things about Killian, Emma thought. He had an abnormally high physical resilience and was almost as fast as a Vampire or Werewolf. That couldn't be possible through mere magic.

"Oh," she couldn't force a more meaningful answer out of herself. "Why didn't you say that before?"

"I didn't think it was important," he shrugged.

"Sorry, but you don't look like an Elf," Leo shook his head with a grin.

Emma only now noticed that the other Hunters had been standing behind her the whole time.

"That's because I'm not one. Some of my ancestors were. I'm just a freak," his voice sounded strangely bitter and he turned his head away.

Instinctively, she took two steps away. Killian's icy magic flared up without warning, along with his rage.

"Hey, calm down, dude. I didn't mean it like that," Leo raised his hands.

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret reached the bottom of the stairs, still in her pajamas.

"Nothing new. Just a bit of bickering, the usual," Robin grinned.

Only now did Mary Margaret notice David at the other end of the room. A broad smile was on her face as she walked over to where he was still crouched by the couch, finishing patching Ruby up.

Emma turned away as they threw themselves into each other's embrace, kissing as if they hadn't seen each other in days. She glanced back at Killian who was watching her face with a coy expression. His gaze positively shone with panic, almost desperate.

"I… I apologize. I think I'd better go," he murmured, lowering his gaze.

He rolled down his sleeve and picked up his jacket, then stormed out of the apartment without further explanation. Emma stared after him, uncomprehending. She had always known he was kind of a weirdo. But this was unusual, even for Killian.

"What the hell was that?" she turned to Robin, confused.

"He's a little cuckoo in the head. You'd better not get any more friendly with him than you already have," Robin shook his head. "Seriously. He can be pretty scary sometimes. He's pretty weird."

She didn't answer, just stared after Killian thoughtfully. She agreed with Robin that there was something up with him. But she immediately ruled out the possibility that he was suffering from some sort of mental illness.

"You knew about this?" Leo turned to Robin.

"That he was part Elf? No, I would never have guessed that. But now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense. He's done things he wouldn't have been able to do otherwise," Robin replied and goosebumps appeared on Emma's arm.

Maybe Robin was right. She shouldn't get close to him.