As promised, second chapter this week is here! Hope you like it! Thank you for the follows, favs!

Chapter 6: No Intention of Hurting You

It was as if the whole world were swaying around her and a giant vortex was about to swallow her. She felt the cold biting into her bones, its cruel teeth like needles on her skin. Then she saw huge cordons emerge from the utter darkness around her, a pale figure appearing before her eyes. His arms swelled with muscle, his eyes gleamed black, and his mouth twisted into a satisfied grin. Behind the cordon, there were burning, overturned vehicles...

"Swan! Bloody hell, what's happening?"

Someone shook her shoulder violently, the darkness flickered, and she found herself back in the comfortable leather seat of the Porsche with the soothing orange glow of the instrument panel. "Just a vision. I'm sure it was one this time," she murmured, massaging her aching temple.

"A vision?" Killian's gaze wandered back and forth between her and the road. "Your eyes were closed, and you weren't breathing. I thought it was a… seizure."

"No, it wasn't. But we have to turn back, the road's closed. Or it will be in a few minutes."

"I can't." He shook his head. "It's the only way out of town. It would be too much of a detour, and we're running out of time."

"But it's closed!" she repeated desperately, the image of the man and the cordon still flashing before her eyes.

"And you think that's going to stop me?" He raised an eyebrow, and she already knew the answer to his question: no, of course not.

After half a minute, the barriers appeared in the street, as did the uniformed policeman loitering before them. She was sure he was the figure she had just seen in her vision. With a half-smile on his face, he let his hand slide loosely into his pocket and walked toward the slowing Porsche.

"Good afternoon! As you can see, the road is closed. There has been a minor accident. You can get around to Vermilion Boulevard—"

"I'm afraid we don't have time for that. Can we just…"

She blanked out Killian's voice and instead stared at the cop in fascination. He looked so familiar, but she just couldn't figure out where from.

Then the officer pointed to the back of the car, leaned lightly against the door with one hand, and turned his face away. The left half of his cheek was marred by a couple of circular scars.

And then it became crystal clear.

He was the vampire who had wounded Neal with the dagger.

After a moment's thought, she reached for her gun. She would never have a better opportunity than this to settle at least a small score from that night. But the creature noticed her movement and immediately jumped on top of the car. She suspected he wasn't in the mood to get a few more cuts on his face.

Killian didn't hesitate for long either, he immediately stepped on the gas.

"Killian, the barriers!" she yelled, holding her arms in front of her face (as if that would protect her from a possible collision).

She heard the Vampire roll off from the roof of the car and hit the ground behind them with a thud, then she waited for the impact.

But nothing happened, only the soothing purr of the engine could be heard. Half a minute later, she blinked her eyes open and looked anxiously at the windshield, but by then they were speeding through the suburbs, dodging the burning cars in the streets.

"What the…?"

"Did you seriously think I was going to wreck this car?" Killian laughed, amused by her baffled expression, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He was making fun of her a lot lately, and she didn't like that at all. "I hardly know you, you could be a total lunatic!" She objected, but to her surprise, he only laughed louder instead of being offended.

"How true, lass." He left it at that, but still smiling.

It was strange to see that expression on his face. Cheerful. Open. Sincere.

"And it would be best for you if it stayed that way…" he added, and the smile didn't fade from his face, instead morphing into bitterness.

"What do you mean?" She raised an eyebrow, but she was almost certain she had guessed what he meant.

He didn't answer right away. He bit his lower lip, then gave her a quick sideways glance. "It doesn't matter." He shook his head and said nothing more.

Emma, on the other hand, scanned his face and his rigid eyes curiously.

An awkward silence descended upon them, and for long minutes, neither of them said anything. She couldn't decide whether to force the issue or not. She wondered about Killian's past and wanted to know what had happened to him.

"It does for me. I want to know you," she replied softly, opting for honesty.

Killian shuddered and looked at her again. "You don't know what you're asking for." He shook his head ruefully.

"Then tell me. Let me be the judge of that," she insisted, surprising herself at how vehement her tone was.

August would surely be interested, too, and after a long, painful month, something — or someone — was finally making her curious.

Killian didn't answer this time, just kept his gaze on the road and wrapped himself in silence again.

"Why are you interested?" he began after a few minutes.

"I don't know. I just am," she admitted and shrugged.

She wasn't trying to snoop in his past because of August, though. She wanted to know more about him because of her own curiosity.

"You're strange," he said quietly, but there was no trace of mockery in his voice.

"So are you." She left it at that, counting down the seconds for when he would finally give in. But it seemed she had been overconfident, and cracking the nutshell would be harder than she thought.

"Are we far?" she asked after a good quarter of an hour. She decided to table the subject for now. He obviously didn't want to elaborate and it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter. If he didn't want to talk about himself, she wouldn't force him.

"Not long now," he replied, his face suddenly looking infinitely tormented. He blinked flatly and slowly tilted his head back, rolling his neck.

"Are you tired?"

"A bit," he murmured wearily, but kept his eyes on the road.

"Um, do you mind if I turn on the radio?" she asked, a little concerned.

She couldn't let him fall asleep behind the wheel. If she could drive, she would gladly offer to take the wheel over, but since she couldn't, her only option was the loud booming music.

"I'd rather listen to my own music," he said, gesturing towards the glove compartment.

Without a word, she plugged in the USB player after fishing it out.

At maximum volume, "Sin" by Pet Shop Boys began blaring. Killian seemed to have perked up a bit, and she contentedly drummed the rhythm on her jean-clad knees. She was shocked, too, but she was actually having fun with him, in the middle of a huge storm and a possible Elf attack, while listening to one of her favorite songs. An inexplicable serenity took hold of her, and she returned Killian's smile.

"I never would have guessed you'd like this genre," she exclaimed over the music.

Killian raised an eyebrow, but decided to let the remark slide. "I see you like it too."

"Yeah! I'm always up for some retro music."

She was eagerly searching the USB player's library for more songs when the car skidded through a dent in the road. With a jerk, she snatched her head up, only then realizing they were driving on a forest road.

"Where exactly are we now?" She began to grow uneasy.

"Not far from Firefly Hill."

To avoid a nasty hit on the head in case of another bump on the road, she leaned back in her seat. Soon her phone vibrated again and, of course, it was David. Again.

"Get me Killian!" was her only greeting.

"It's David. He wants to talk to you." She handed him the phone.

Killian stared at the device in surprise for a while, but then took it from her grasp. "We're on our way," he replied after some silence. "We just left Firefly Hill … Yes, I'll take her right there… Sorry mate, you're late. It's too late."

With that, Killian ended the call and handed the phone back to her. She took it with a slight daze and put it back in her pocket.

"Where's David now?" she asked seriously.

"At your place," came the curt reply.

"Didn't you just say he was coming too?" The whole thing was getting weirder by the second, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"That was the plan, yes."

"Killian, what the hell is going on?" She stopped trying to pretend to be calm. She was in full panic mode.

"Your brother will be a little late, but he will be there," he tried to reassure her, but he failed.

Killian gradually slowed the car at the edge of the clearing but didn't turn off the headlights, so Emma could clearly take out the wood-framed house in the thick of the trees, which was ready to collapse at any moment.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"We're here."

"Are you seriously saying that this dump is the Guild headquarters?" She was beginning to lose her patience.

August was right, something was off about Killian. Involuntarily, her fingers wandered to her gun, the alarm bells in her head refusing to fall silent. She knew something was up.

"Aye," he replied as calmly as he could, but then he noticed her hands slipping to the gun, and she slowly pulled back from him as far as she could. "Bloody hell, Swan! I'm not going to hurt you." His eyes widened in shock, but she wasn't fooled by his almost professional demeanor.

If she thought about it, maybe he didn't even have to put on a show. She's sure he thought he could play her for a fool and she wouldn't realize he was reporting back to their enemies.

"August said we couldn't trust you! And there must've been a reason for my vision!" She pulled out the pistol and pressed it directly to Killian's forehead.

"You've got this all wrong," he snarled, and she detected a previously unknown emotion in his eyes. Fear.

"Get out of the car!" she demanded, and all that was running on a loop in her head was his conversation with David. That, and the promise she'd made to herself a couple of years ago that she still couldn't stick to.

You can't trust anyone unconditionally.

Then Killian's voice echoed in her mind again.

"Sorry mate, you're late. It's too late."

"Emma, don't do this! Trust me!"

"Why should I? I don't know you, you're just a stranger to me, and you just said it was better if it stayed that way. If you don't do as I say, I won't leave things to chance." Only her words were confident; she and her voice were not.

What if he really didn't want to hurt her and she was just a scaredy-cat?

But then, what she feared the most did happen. A strange light flashed in Killian's eyes and the gun simply flew out of her hand, right through the back window, shattering the glass. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the car.

"I'm sorry, love, but if we keep this up, they're going to sense our presence," he informed her, grabbing hold of her other arm and walking her toward the house.

His hold was firm, but surprisingly gentle around her wrist.

"Let go of me, you jerk! What the hell are you doing?" she was terrified now, unable to think, and yanked convulsively on her arm to free herself from Killian's iron grip.

"Mil... Swan!" he corrected himself immediately. "Please, calm down. I don't want to hurt you, you have to understand that! The Guild is here, the trapdoor…"

"Tell me what you want from me! You're not going to blackmail David with me! They're not stupid enough to jeopardize the Guild because of me, so if that's your plan, you might as well let me go!"

"Have you lost your bloody mind?" He, too, began to lose his patience. "I said I didn't want to hurt you! On the other hand, the Elves hot on our heels might not be in the same mood!" he proclaimed, but she still couldn't believe him.

He was only trying to trick her, she was sure, as he had done so far. She cursed herself for falling for the guise of the sad, lonely guy. How could they always fool her?

She dug her heels and then simply threw herself to the ground, hoping to slip out of Killian's hands, but he was prepared for that move. All she managed to achieve was to pull him with her, but his grip on her wrist didn't loosen a whiff.

The next moment, he jumped up and yanked her up with one hand, her head jolting against his chest. She decided to do what was most logical and easy in this situation: she kicked him in the groin with her knee.

Finally, something he had not expected.

He let out a painful groan, curled up, and pressed his hand where her knee had been a moment ago. She didn't hesitate for a moment and immediately ran toward the forest. She hated running, and would never understand those who did it for fun, but that mentality would have come in handy now. She threw herself into the trees, trying to watch out for fallen branches and protruding roots. She certainly didn't want to fall on the muddy, leaf-covered ground.

The wind roared cruelly among the trees as well, she heard almost nothing but her own gasps and the whistling of the wind in her ear.

She was surprised at how far away she managed to flee, and she hoped Killian had given up and "entrusted" her to the care of the forest. Exhausted, she leaned against the trunk of an old tree, trying to quench her thirst for air. Slowly, she let herself slide to the ground, her legs trembling with fatigue. All she wanted was to catch her breath and rest a little.

She closed her eyes and tried to think soberly, rationalize everything she knew so far about Killian. He was a traitor, that's why he was such a loner and standoffish. He was not the best actor, so he took on few roles, always standing in the corner and listening rather than speaking.

But why did they always find her? Was her naivety that obvious?

It seemed like it.

All her life, she had only trusted three people who didn't betray her. Mary Margaret, David, and Neal. Everyone else, no matter how good she tried to be to them, had taken advantage of her, deceived and betrayed her.

A sudden noise broke her out of her musings.

To her left, a branch crackled, the rustling of leaves swept towards her by the gust. With the last of her strength, she sprang to her feet and, without turning, she started running again. Her crumbling knees warned her she wouldn't get far, but she had to try.

She could barely jog twenty yards when a sharp pain erupted in her shoulder. She let out a yelp, and as a result of a powerful push, she landed on the hard, cold ground. The muscles and bones in her shoulder seemed to be on fire, it was unbearable and she couldn't stop screaming.

She rolled onto her back and pressed her uninjured hand to her wounded shoulder, which was already wet with her blood. She gasped for air and found it difficult to focus on the gray, bluish-skinned Dark Elf towering in front of her. His long, white hair fluttered about his waist as he glared down at her, an evil smile stretching over his lips.

He approached her slowly and leaned over her. She wanted to get up and run away, but she couldn't get her limbs to move. She whimpered weakly and began to regret running away from Killian. It was possible that she would have died faster and in a gentler way…

Death. Was there life after that? Could she meet Neal? She missed him very much.

Then, however, the Elf straightened and sniffed the air furiously. His face twisted into a grimace and simply turned his back on her. At that exact moment, he flew back through the air at least thirty yards, and the trunk of the tree he had collided with gave out with a weak crack.

She decided that if she still wanted to live to see the next sunrise, she had to act now. Despite the shrilling pain in her shoulder, she rolled onto her stomach, propped herself up on her palms, and tried to convince her legs to support her weight. Suddenly, however, she got help: an arm wrapped around her waist and another under her knees, and she was swept up by a tall figure.

The man pressed her body to his chest and started running. Hesitantly, she chanced a look up at her rescuer's face, but as soon as she met Killian's gaze, the relief she had felt a moment ago instantly evaporated. She wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to protest, but she had zero strength left. She had no choice but to beg. Maybe it would work. Or maybe it wouldn't even move him at all.

"Killian, no... Please, don't."

"Shh, Emma, calm down." He pressed her body harder against him as she began to squirm. She almost managed to wiggle out of his arms and if it wasn't for his fast reflexes, she would've slumped to the ground. He steadied her and, with a concerned flash in her eyes, he brushed an errant lock of her hair from her eyes. The gesture was so gentle that she all but forgot to squirm out of his hold — and then something caught her eye.

She never had a close look at the tattoos on his left arm, but now a name stood out in contrast among the many designs.

Who the hell was Milah?

But before she could ponder that question any longer, the last drops of consciousness seeped out of her, her strength evaporating, her limbs going numb. The last thing she felt was Killian gathering her limp body into his arms. She greeted the sweet, empty blackness like an old acquaintance, almost relieved that they were meeting again.

"They're coming! But... I don't think Emma is doing so well." Robin's voice gradually entered her brain, and Emma found it hard to fully comprehend the words. She was still numb, every part of her feeling like lead.

"What? What's happened? Jones! What the—"

"I can explain, but first—"

Killian's voice was cut off by David's outburst. "What did you do to her? You're going to regret this! Didn't I tell you to take care of her?"

"David, we don't have time for this now!" Mary Margaret admonished him, her voice sounding used, slightly hoarse. "Killian, come with me."

Squeaking doors, hushed whispers, shuffling footsteps, rustling of clothes. Silence and darkness. Again.

She was recovering from a long, dreamless sleep in a completely unfamiliar room. Her shoulder woke her, a pain boring cruelly through her flesh. The throbbing brought tears to her eyes in an instant.

She wiped her eyes with her hand, then looked around the room as best she could. It was very modest, the wide double bed she was lying on almost completely filling the room. There was no window, the only source of light coming from the simple chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered in navy blue wallpaper that immediately sent a cold shiver down her spine. The bedding was also a light cerulean shade, but it was a visibly expensive piece.

Her throat was dry and sore, and in the back of her head sat an ache that threatened to grow into a severe migraine, a sure sign that dehydration wasn't far off. She would have given half her life for a glass of water. Emma decided to ignore her discomfort until she managed to roll her body into a sitting position and set her lead-heavy legs on the floor, standing up a little wobbly and feeling like jello. She managed quite well as she headed for the door, but needless to say, she didn't even know her vocabulary for swear words was that enormous.

She was already halfway across the room when someone hesitantly opened the door. At first, the person only dared to poke their head in the little nook. Emma, on the other hand, instinctively took two steps back.

Killian quickly entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He raised both hands up in surrender and studied her face as if she were a ticking time bomb.

"Swan, I still have no intention of hurting you," he remarked softly, and she nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

The events of the last few hours were only now beginning to become real. Not only had she made a spectacular fool of herself — which she often managed to do — but this time it had almost cost her life.

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly.

She felt her cheeks turn warm, so she angled her body away from Killian's searching gaze. But the tiny room began to spin in a strange dance before her eyes.

"You should rest some more, love," he noted softly.

"I'm thirsty. I'll get something to drink first." She made her way towards the exit again, but her legs didn't seem ready to cooperate for such a long journey. She was dizzy as hell, and if Killian's reflexes weren't so unbeatable, she would have acquired a new gash on her head.

"I'll fetch you some water."

He hooked an arm around her waist and practically carried her back to the bed. He gently pressed her back onto the pillow, and then hurried out of the room.

She barely had time to close her eyes when he returned with a glass of cold water in his hand.

"Thanks." She took the drink from his hold with a grateful look and began taking generous sips of the refreshing beverage. It felt incredible in her nearly parched throat, but she couldn't enjoy it for long before Killian snatched it from her fingers.

"Don't be greedy now, Swan. Slow down." He smiled, set the glass on the nightstand, then anxiously leaned over to her and slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry!"

They said it at the same time, but somehow the scene didn't turn out to be comical at all.

"What you did was incredibly foolish," he said in a half-hearted, scolding tone, setting himself on the edge of the bed.

"Um, yeah, seems to be a theme in my life," she joked. "But really, I'm sorry. You just scared me and I thought…"

"I know quite well what you thought. When you held the Glock to my head, you made it perfectly clear." His tone sounded somber as he turned his head away.

She was incredibly ashamed and it must have shown because she was almost sure her face was the color of a tomato.

"You were cryptic and kind of shady," she muttered defensively, but even she heard how pathetic her excuses were.

"I know, but I didn't have time to explain, I sensed the Elves were on our heels."

She didn't know what to say in response, she would have preferred to turn into an ostrich and bury her head in the sand, honestly. "I didn't think it through. My brain wasn't working and I panicked," she whined in despair. "I've been a little paranoid lately."

Killian's face became inscrutable again, and the whole situation felt strange as he sat on the edge of the bed. His presence somehow reassured her, because she was quite sure now that he really wasn't going to hurt her. And it was good that they could work everything out in a civilized manner. Most Hunters would have talked her ear off by now. To be honest, she would have deserved it. She was acting like an irresponsible lunatic. Speaking of which...

"Oh, and I'm also sorry for kicking you."

To her surprise, Killian let out a soft laugh. "I'm not saying I enjoyed it, but I must congratulate you on that move. I wasn't expecting that," he replied lightly. "Though, you did give me quite a scare with the gun."

"I didn't think you could be scared of anything, and you've outdone yourself in that regard…"

"I'm not surprised…" he muttered, fidgeting with the edge of the cotton blanket.

Then her brother's shouting broke the momentary silence.

"Why is he in there? I made it pretty clear he wasn't to come near her!"

His outburst of anger didn't even surprise her. Nice little family she'd gotten here. Paranoia, anger issues… there's everything. The hinges of the door creaked frantically as David stormed into the tiny room. The door slammed against the wall and he marched furiously toward Killian, who got up from the bed faster than she could follow with her eyes.

Within two fleeting seconds, David's fist met with Killian's chin. He made no sound at the blow but stumbled and fell to all fours. Blood dripped from his skin, the surface of his jaw scraped by the force of the punch.

"David, it was an accident! It was all my fault! I screwed up, I was stupid and—"

"If he'd kept you safe, this wouldn't have happened! You could've died! Like Leo!"