Chapter 8: A Nice Trip

It took a while for the dreams to cloud her mind as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her shoulder was still throbbing and the events of the day played a loop in her brain. A few hours later, she woke up surprisingly relaxed and relatively refreshed. She allowed herself an hour to just lie motionless on the bed, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't know what was waiting for her that day. The usual languid calm was gone.

She climbed out of bed and decided to find a bathroom and then the kitchen. She wasn't ready to face the day's problem until she'd a cup of coffee. But no sooner had she set foot on the floor, the door suddenly slid open. Ruby wasted no time knocking, she simply barged into the room as if she'd owned the place.

"Good, you're awake! We're leaving." Her words came quickly as she gestured urgently towards the door.

"Where are we going?" Emma asked, getting up from the bed slower than usual with her shoulder still aching.

"To your house," Ruby nodded, smiling at her. "Get your stuff and pack some things for David too. You can change at your apartment if you want, but you'll have to hurry because we're going to Leo's funeral after that. And then back here. It would be best if you took everything you wanted from home, because you won't be returning anytime soon."

"Great."

"Why am I the one going with him?" Emma stared blankly at Ruby's smiling face. It was a mystery to her why the brunette was in such a good mood. Emma didn't feel like grinning at all, especially now that it turned out she was going to be alone with Killian again. Of course, David had no idea. If he did know, he'd surely have an aneurysm.

"It was pure fate," Ruby said with a shrug, but Emma could see she was hiding something.

She didn't want to argue with her, so she left it at that. But Ruby couldn't seem to let the subject go. "Why are you so against him?" she inquired cautiously as they climbed the stairs to the first floor that led to the crumbling wooden house.

"I'm not, I just don't understand. I thought David's drama queen behavior yesterday would have kept him from having anything to do with me."

"The decision on matters like this isn't up to Killian, or even David. It's all the Council," Ruby explained.

"Oh, how I'd love to meet them one day," Emma remarked, grudgingly, multiplying her steps as she followed Ruby, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

It was terribly cold upstairs. Emma was only wearing her sweater from yesterday and was already chattering her teeth as she rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself up a bit.

When they reached the clearing, she noticed at least a dozen motorcycles and twice that many cars parked there. She had no idea if they'd all been brought here under the cover of the night, or if they'd been hiding around here all along. Looking around, she immediately spotted the black Porsche. It actually wasn't hard to spot, nor was the talk, dark figure lurking beside the vehicle.

Killian seemed unaffected by the cold. His hair was ruffled by the light breeze (or by his fingers running through it), and he was also forgoing his usual eyeliner today, which made his face look younger. He was wearing a simple black shirt and his favorite leather jacket.

"Be at the cemetery by two in the afternoon, and get back here by four at the latest. Don't wait until it gets dark, for everyone's sake."

"Will do," Killian nodded, stubbing out his cigarette, which Emma just noticed, on the outside mirror without hesitation.

"Have a nice trip!" Ruby waved at them, then walked after Robin and Mary Margaret.

"Ready to go?" Killian hid his hands carelessly in his pockets and stared at her expectantly. Was he seriously going to wait for her approval now?

"Yeah," she sighed.

This is not going to be fun.

To her surprise, they made their way to the apartment in not-so-uncomfortable silence. She didn't know what to say as she stuffed her ham sandwich into her mouth and Killian remained stubbornly silent. She was sure his mind was on their "conversation" from yesterday, too. Which, well, let's face it, had been pretty interesting.

"Be ready no later than half-past two," was his first sentence after they got out of the car.

"You're going to help, too," she announced. "We'll be done quicker if you help with packing up David's stuff."

"As you wish." He didn't comment on her instruction, so Emma showed him David's room and the bathroom, loaded her brother's suitcases and bags onto his bed, and left Killian to his task.

She made her way upstairs and began packing up everything she might need with heavy movements. Of course, she had a hard time packing all her things into her bags, she didn't want to leave anything in her room. She really wanted to take her favorite books, her ancient boombox she'd gotten from David, and every trinket that held precious memories for her. However, she had to realize that was pretty much overkill. She probably wouldn't even have enough room for her things, let alone time to actually read books.

Eventually, she felt compelled to put a few things back on the shelves, including the boombox, of course. It was already quarter past two when she finally finished packing and headed to the bathroom. She only wanted to take a look at her reflection, but the sight that greeted her made her pause.

Her face was paler than usual, the remnants of her black eyeshadow around her eyes complemented by dark circles under them didn't look particularly attractive. Her hair almost resembled a crow's nest, her clothes were dirty, bloody, and torn in places. Honestly, she looked like a survivor of a zombie apocalypse. Which, when she thought about it, wasn't that far from the truth.

Grimacing, she turned away from the mirror, quickly ridding herself of her clothes, and climbing into the shower with boundless relief as the warm water hit her tired skin. Carefully, she peeled the bandage from her shoulder and was glad to see that she didn't need stitches. Only five smaller, circular, red wounds adorned her collarbone and shoulder. At first glance, they didn't look like serious injuries, but she knew — and felt — that they were deep.

She quickly washed her hair as well and finished as quickly as she could, not wanting to test Killian's patience. As soon as she was done, she wrapped a towel around her body and hurried to her room to get the hairdryer she had already packed in one of her gym bags. It would do her good to think ahead sometimes…

She rummaged in the bag that was next to the door, but of course, the damned device was hidden away well. She cursed under her breath and ripped open the zipper of her last bag as the door slammed open, connecting with her hip head-on.

She yelped more in surprise than pain. She had just enough presence of mind to reach for the towel slipping off her body, but she lost her balance and landed on her ass.

"Did no one teach you to knock?" she growled in annoyance.

"Apologies, but I didn't think I'd find you dressed only in a towel," he retorted, glancing impatiently at his watch.

But then he walked over to her and reached for her hand to help her up. She considered refusing him for a few seconds, but then she deemed it unnecessary to continue being hostile and grabbed his offered hand.

This time, there was no unbearable headache to warn her as she glided through space and time. She simply found herself under the open sky without any of the uncomfortable transitions a vision usually entails.

The sun burned bright and hot; it was a sultry summer day. The air was stuffy, not even a slight breeze was blowing through the air. At first, it seemed to Emma that she was standing in a playground, but in the background, the image of a school with at least hundreds of students unfolded before her. She turned her head in wonder, for the children's clothing was clearly reminiscent of the late nineties.

No one noticed her, so she was sure she had just stumbled into another vision. A girl in a towel appearing out of nowhere would have been quite the sensation, but they were not just looking through her, they were walking right over her body too.

She didn't understand any of this, she had no idea what to look for. She whirled around the courtyard, trying to figure out why she had gotten here. Soon, a calling of a name broke through the dull fog of shock.

"Hey, Killian! What're you doing?"

Emma immediately spun around and turned in the direction of the voice, but saw only a completely unfamiliar, short, and dark blonde boy. He couldn't have been older than twelve. His flashy red leotard stretched over his stomach with dark spots down the front. His jeans were already worn and a little too short for his legs, with patches of green grass staining the knees.

He scurried toward a sullen, skinny boy sitting alone on the back of one of the benches, staring off into the distance. Panting, the blond came to a halt in front of the other and braced his hands on his hips. His bloated, freckled, but lovely face glistened with drops of sweat.

"Killian, why don't you come play?"

Emma stared wide-eyed at the boy skulking on the bench. Was this Killian? He didn't look any older than fourteen or fifteen, either, but his gaze was almost as unsetting as it would be twenty years later.

His hair was longer than it was now in the present, tied behind his head with a rubber ring. His slightly worn Pearl Jam t-shirt was much larger than his torso, his jeans were worn and torn — but not for the sake of fashion. The soles of his sneakers were about to come off the dirty shoes.

"Aren't you coming?" the blonde repeated.

Killian didn't answer, just stared unflinchingly at the school's iron gate. "No, Kristoff. Not now," he shook his head, and his voice, unusually deep for a kid of his age (and size), caused Emma another surprise.

"You're waiting for Milah, right?" Kristoff looked at Killian sympathetically, and Emma's ears perked up at the name.

Maybe now she could figure out who Milah was to him.

Killian turned his head to Kristoff with an impatient sigh. "If you already know, why even ask?"

The other boy just shrugged, leaving Killian's question unanswered. He settled down next to him on the bench. "Killian, come on! You can't sit here all day! You know she's not coming anyway." Kristoff shook his head and glanced sadly at Killian with his big, piercing blue eyes.

"She will!" Killian's hand clenched into a fist, his eyes flashed. "She promised," he added a little more quietly, and Emma moved closer to the two of them, so as not to miss a word.

"It doesn't matter. Her father won't let her anyway. Our last class is about to begin, Killian! I'm sure…"

Before he could finish the sentence, the school bell started to ring. Kristoff immediately jumped up from the bench as the sea of students moved towards the main entrance of the building.

"We're going to be late!" Kristoff shifted his weight impatiently, but Killian didn't even move, staring fixedly at the school gate.

"We are," Killian finally nodded, picking up his bag that had been lying next to the bench.

It was a dark green, awkwardly patched, worn backpack. It was quite dirty with dust and sand, but Killian didn't seem to care.

"My mother will kill me if I'm late…" Kristoff turned pale, blinking more and more nervously across the slowly emptying courtyard.

"Go to class, Kris," Killian smiled, then picked up his bag on his shoulder and hurried to the school gate.

"Killian! Stop! What are you doing?" Scared out of his wits, Kristoff ran after Killian.

He grabbed him by the arm and turned the older boy to face him with a forceful jerk.

"I'm going to Milah's," Killian shook Kristoff's' arm off.

"No! You've gone mad! Your parents will… oh, there'll be nothing left of you if Milah's father sees you there! I thought that scar on your arm would have been a good reminder of that."

"I'm not afraid of her father," Killian laughed. His voice was husky and mocking. Emma knew very well where his confidence came from.

Elven blood.

He could easily handle a grown man, no matter how big or muscular he was.

"You can't go there! Even Milah told you that!" insisted Kristoff.

"I don't care." Killian shook his head and headed for the gate again.

Kristoff stared after him for a while, panting, apparently unable to decide what to do. "Killian, wait! I'll get my bag…"

The little blond boy slipped off in the direction of the school building. Killian, meanwhile, settled himself at the entrance and, to Emma's small shock, lit a cigarette. If she could've, she'd have flicked it out of his fingers. He was too young for that sort of thing.

However, when she took a closer look, she saw that his hands were shaking, he seemed quite nervous, and his appearance, as well as his manners, made him seem much older.

"Uh… Humph! We can go!" Kristoff gasped as he finally reached Killian, more specifically through her spirit body.

She'd never get used to that.

"You really don't have to come. It won't be...without risk," Killian admitted, and Emma believed that only she understood what he meant.

He could defend himself, but he couldn't split himself in half and be there with Kristoff all the way. And if the boy wasn't in his immediate vicinity, Killian couldn't guarantee his safety.

"Come on!" Kristoff waved. "I want to come!"

"Suit yourself," Killian nodded, rising from the parched ground. He dusted off his jeans, which Emma thought was completely unnecessary, and walked with quick steps to the side of the road.

"You really have a crush on her, don't you?" Kristoff seemed to have quickly gotten over the trauma and aftermath of missing school. He stared at Killian with a grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Killian shook his head and blew out the smoke with relish.

"Well, about Milah, who else?" Kristoff waited anxiously for Killian's answer, but it didn't come.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Killian glared at the younger boy.

"You don't have to deny it! I saw you both out in the meadow by the bunker yesterday," he reported with a triumphant smile, and to Emma's surprise, he achieved the desired effect; Killian's cheeks and the tips of his ears turned the color of tomatoes.

"What the bloody hell were you doing there?" His eyes widened in shock, and he quickened his steps almost unconsciously.

"Well, I was just going to the bunker because I left my sweater somewhere and I thought it was there." Kristoff shrugged, his mouth still twisting into a smile. "But in the end, I found something completely different there," he chuckled.

Killian narrowed his eyes.

"But I was far enough away, I didn't see everything!" Kristoff added hastily.

"Wonderful," Killian growled, scowling at his friend. "What did you see?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," Kristoff clasped his hands behind his back and whistled softly as he stared up at the completely cloudless sky.

Emma had to admit, she was starting to like this kid, Kristoff. The little rascal knew how to get a rise out of Killian, and it was strange to see such strong emotion on his face.

"You're starting to get on my nerves, lad," Killian hissed.

Kristoff grinned wickedly at him and just shrugged. "Did you kiss her properly? Like in the movies?" He eagerly watched Killian's every move.

"Aye," Killian coughed, then watched with a forgiving smile as Kristoff punched the air with a loud cheer.

"And what else did you do?" Kristoff almost climbed into Killian's face.

"Never mind that, you're too young for that," Killian grinned, blowing the smoke in Kristoff's face who leaned away from him, coughing.

"Stinking shit-face!" he groaned, gasping for air.

"Vouyer rat!" snarled Killian back playfully

They walked along the road in silence for a few minutes and then soon turned onto a narrow, weedy dirt road. They were in a small rural town that Emma was unfamiliar with.

"I'd never dare kiss Anna," Kristoff confessed shyly.

"Well, I wouldn't either," Killian laughed hoarsely, and hearing his voice, Emma wondered how long he'd been smoking.

"Are you making fun of me?" Kristoff raised an eyebrow in offense, but Killian just shook his head.

"Anna would talk your ear off before you could even reach her lips. Don't you think she's a little hyperactive?"

"Maybe... But she's still the prettiest one in the class."

"That's one thing," Killian waved it off, then tossed the cigarette away and stomped on it carefully.

"But still beautiful!"

"And a chatterbox," Killian said, shaking his head.

"Does it matter? At least there's no awkward silence."

"Then it really doesn't matter," Killian laughed again.

It was weird to Emma to listen to this conversation as she slipped invisibly behind the two of them. Killian... There was just no way he was only like fourteen. She had no idea what could have happened to him, but a normal boy his age wasn't like him.

After a good twenty-minute walk, the hundred-degree weather made it almost impossible to wring the sweat from Kristoff's and Killian's t-shirts.

"Do you really go out here every day?" Kristoff growled as he wiped his brow. "At least slow down a little!"

"I don't come out here every day, her father would really kill me. Besides, we're not far away, their house is just around the corner," Killian replied.

Nearby, the grass was yellow from the drought, and the road was pure dust beneath their feet.

"And what're you going to tell her?" Kristoff asked.

"I don't know," Killian lowered his head. "We'll see."

"Is it really true that her father is crazy? I've heard all kinds of things about him, but I couldn't decide if it was true."

"He is," Killian said in a lowered voice. "One minute he was completely calm and quite friendly, and then suddenly he got angry, howling and lashing out at the things closest to him. He's already been treated in a mental hospital, and he has also been in prison several times…"

The large but rather old-fashioned residential building included an old barracks. Several dogs were roaming around in the company of a few cats around the porch. The platform of the rusty van in the backyard was already packed, and a burly, shirtless man was in the process of dumping the rest of the suitcases onto the others.

He watched the boys' arrival with keen eyes. He brushed his graying hair out of his forehead and stared expectantly at Killian and Kristoff with his hands on his hips. Sweat glistened in droplets on his exposed skin, his large beer belly covered in dirt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled unkindly. It was obvious from his expression that he was already on the verge of strangling the boys with his bare hands, but for some reason he controlled himself.

"I came to see Milah," Killian replied confidently.

The man's eyes narrowed. "She doesn't have time for you, she's packing right now. You're in the way, we want to leave today!"

"Where are you going?" The confidence left Killian's voice and was replaced by horror.

"We're moving. We're going back to England. It'll be a better place for the girl!"

Emma could clearly see Killian's face turning pale despite the blistering heat. His lips opened slightly and he stared at the man with widened eyes.

"Where… where's Milah?" Killian's hands clenched into fists again, trembling with rage, and at that moment Emma no longer feared for Killian's safety, but rather for the man's. If he couldn't restrain himself, there would be trouble…

"I thought I told you to fuck off—"

"Killian!"

A girl's stunned voice came from the direction of the barracks. She had long, dark brown hair that ended in wild curls, and her eyes were almost the same bluish-green shade as Emma's. Emma immediately knew she was Milah.

The girl blinked at her father in alarm, then looked back at Killian.

"We're leaving in half an hour. I don't want to have to look for you, you know what we agreed on," her father growled at her and set about securing the bags on the platform.

Milah sighed in relief and signaled for the two boys to follow her.

She led them into the kitchen. It was an immaculate room, but the cleanliness in no way made up for the deplorable sight of junk, old furniture, and weathered paint on the walls.

"Are you...really moving?" Killian didn't sit down, and neither did Kristoff.

The blond preferred to slip quietly into the backyard, but Emma stayed in the kitchen, not feeling guilty for eavesdropping.

"Yes." Milah didn't look up at Killian.

He blinked in horror. "But why?" he snapped.

Milah flinched in fright and raised her eyes to him, almost pleadingly. "Stop yelling!" It wasn't long before she began to cry.

"Apologies," Killian soothingly walked up to the girl, wrapping his arms around her.

"I don't want to leave, but Papa says nothing would become of me here. We're moving to London and I'm going to attend an all girls school. Killian, I don't want to leave!" she blurted out, desperately holding onto Killian's worn t-shirt.

"You're not going then," he said firmly.

Milah laughed softly and leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling. "What've you got planned?"

"We'll run away!"

Milah laughed even louder at his answer. "We can't possibly! He would find us, and if he did…" she shuddered at the thought. "He would beat you up like never before…"

"He wouldn't catch us, and you know it," Killian grumbled heatedly, casting a startled glance outside, but Kristoff continued to pet every single animal outside and seemed to hear nothing of their conversation.

"We can't run forever! Sooner or later we'll get tired, especially if I'm there to slow you down."

So Milah probably knew what Killian really was. That was interesting. Maybe she wasn't a simple human either, that was why they were so close…

"I'll hold out as long as it takes! He would never find us and…"

"And then what? What would we do after that? This is all foolish. When you think about it, maybe it's best to walk away..."

"Pardon?" Killian froze at her words.

"Yesterday... He found out what we were doing in the meadow! Why do you think I'm wearing a sweater in this heat?"

"So you don't want to see me anymore." Killian let her go and took a step back.

"It's not that! You're more important to me than anything, but that's not good. I've had enough, don't you understand? I can't take this anymore," she raised her voice.

"Milah…" Killian's gaze was desperate, almost pleading, watching her every move.

"What the hell is going on?" Milah's father entered the kitchen, apparently having heard his daughter's screaming.

"Nothing, Papa!" she replied immediately, perhaps a little too quickly.

"I let you say goodbye to my daughter, and this is how you thank me? You're—"

"No!" Milah cried out, but her father was already marching toward Killian.

Emma couldn't decide if she or Milah was more scared. The man didn't care about Killian's satisfied grin, he didn't really know what it meant.

"He begged for hours to say goodbye to you today, I let him because we won't be here by tomorrow. And he has the audacity to…"

"Papa, no!"

She wasn't worried about Killian, she was worried about her father.

The man's fist swung for Killian's face, but a thin arm knocked the fist aside with unobtrusive speed, then Killian pushed the man back. Milah's father fell onto the kitchen table, shattering two of its legs. The vase on the table hit the back of his head, making him even angrier, washing away his momentary shock. He jumped up, glaring at Killian, and gasped as Milah screamed deafeningly. She was already standing next to Killian, tugging at his arm in horror.

"Killian, no! Please, don't do it! Calm down, don't do it!"

But Killian paid her no mind. His vision seemed to be clouded, his arms tense.

"What the…?" Milah's father blinked in confusion at the little boy, who'd just flung him away with one hand.

But nothing registered in Killian's mind anymore, he was on the verge of losing his temper.

He pushed Milah away from him, and she hit the floor at the other end of the kitchen, knocking three chairs aside.

"You little shit! I'll teach you a lesson!"

Milah's father rummaged blindly in one of the boxes that stood next to the kitchen entrance. He managed to grab a knife with a blade at least twelve inches long.

Milah was lying dazed on the floor, Kristoff was about to run off into the woods, scared out of his wits as he witnessed what was going on in the house. Milah's father scurried to Killian, and now for the first time, Emma recognized the terror in Killian's eyes. She couldn't really place it, because it was only a knife, and it wasn't as if this mammoth of a man could inflict a wound on him that wouldn't heal in ten minutes or so anyway.

Killian tried to back away, but his back hit the wall and his gaze searched for Milah. That much inattention was all the man needed. He grabbed Killian's arm and jammed the blade into his stomach. Killian cried out and slid along the wall to the floor. Milah's father didn't seem to care. He scooped his only daughter into his arms and stormed out of the house. The van's engine roared to life not long after.

Terrified, Emma knelt beside Killian, though she knew he would soon be healed and survive the ordeal. It was a horrible sight. He leaned to the side, not knowing if it was the pain or Milah's departure that had brought tears to his blue eyes. He reached for the handle of the knife and yanked it out with a quick jerk. He groaned loudly and winced.

The knife fell from his grip and he bowed his head to the floor, his cheek resting on the cold tiles.

He had a hard time getting out of his loose t-shirt, but when he did, he pressed the garment to the wound. His chest and abdomen were snow-white, but his arms were tanned. All of his ribs were visible…

The bleeding wouldn't subside, however, and the wound contracted. Killian soon lost consciousness, and the journey was over for Emma.

"Swan! Emma, answer me! Do you hear me? Bloody fuck!"

At first, she didn't understand the words, they only gradually made sense and formed complete sentences. But it didn't matter that she managed to comprehend what she was hearing, she couldn't give an answer yet. Her head was pounding and she was having a hard time getting air into her lungs,

Something — or someone — was caressing her face, but she felt terribly cold. Goosebumps covered her body from head to toe, and then she was finally able to slowly open her eyes, and the first thing that flashed before her was Killian's blurry face. She was still in her room, her open bags lying to her left.

Her head rested on his shoulder. He sat on the floor and she lay on his lap as he hugged her tightly.

"Are you okay, lass?" His concerned gaze searched her face, and he immediately pulled his fingers away from her cheek.

"I think so." She nodded cautiously, then her head immediately flushed as she realized that she was still only wearing a towel.

"You've been unconscious for more than half an hour," he said softly.

"Figures," she mumbled with a nod, unable to take her eyes off his face.

She tried to recognize the sweet, broken little boy, but it was very hard to do so.

"A vision?" He still wouldn't let go of her.

"Yeah, I think so," she nodded again, unsure and still a bit disoriented.

She was ashamed to admit it to herself, but it felt good to be in Killian's embrace. His anxious gaze and the reassurance of his arms around her filled her with a warmth she couldn't explain.

"What did you see? You've gone pale," Killian searched her face curiously, but she averted her eyes.

She wanted to know what had happened to him, what made him...what he was now. She was unable to put it into words.

Strange.

Special.

Kind of an old young person.

But she was afraid to ask, to dig into the past. She was scared it would open up wounds too deep and painful.

"Are you sure you want to know?" She sighed in resignation, knowing in advance what his answer would be. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from his hold and rose from the floor, careful that the towel wouldn't fall off her body. "Think about it."

With that, she left him alone and marched into the bathroom. She rubbed her half-wet hair with another clean towel, no longer needing a hairdryer. As she dressed, she suddenly remembered why they'd been in such a hurry earlier.

"Killian! The funeral!" The door was nearly ripped out of its frame as she stormed out of the bathroom.

"We already missed it, Swan," he sighed. "I talked to David, they know what happened. When they're done, they'll come straight here."

"Oh…" She'd wanted to be there for Leo and she'd blown it with her stupid ability to see visions.

Killian was still cross-legged on the floor. He watched her, curiosity shining in his aquamarine eyes. "We still have some time before then, so why don't you tell me what you saw?"

"All right," she said, sitting down beside him. "But first, I want to ask you a few questions."

"So my suspicions were correct. The vision was about me," he said, frowning.

"Yes," she nodded. "Tell me, who exactly Milah is?

Killian's eyes widened in shock and she could see he wanted to jump up and leave, but she held his arm before he could do so. He almost pulled her up with him, but finally relented and sat back down.

Killian glared at her with his familiar, expressionless poker face. He tried to barricade himself away.

"Killian, don't do this…"

"This is none of your business," he said sharply.

His voice trembled with suppressed anger. But Emma could also see confusion and terror. "Tell me who she is. You always clam up when I want to talk to you about...well, you."

"Swan, don't, please."

"See? You're doing it right now!" she poked him in the chest with her finger.

"I hate talking about my past," he shook his head.

"Have you actually tried?" she raised an eyebrow.

He grimaced and shook his head again.

"Killian, I want to understand you. And I want to know what happened to you."

"Why would you care about a repulsive beast like me?"

She knew it was inappropriate, but she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. Killian, repulsive, and beast? Those three words were completely different things in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but none of those apply to you," she chuckled, feeling a tear leave her eye.

"No? Because that's what people usually call me," he hissed angrily.

"At first glance, your appearance and manners don't exactly scream trustworthiness," she remarked, still smiling. "But you only pretend not to be.

"Maybe because that's how it is, and you're the one who's wrong. Have you ever thought about that?"

"No. And you're wrong. Now answer my question," she's starting to feel like an interrogator.

"You don't know me, Swan. You know nothing about me, and that's the only reason you dare to be alone in a room with me."

Then he jumped up from the floor and marched out the door.

Perhaps she'd succeeded in opening a more painful wound than she'd first intended. At that moment, she felt like a pathetic fool. Because let's face it, tact wasn't exactly her strong suit.