Your Case or Mine
Chapter 6
The original file of the conversation Emma had requested didn't contain much more than what she'd already seen. The voice was male, and definitely had an accent, but there was nothing decisively incriminating about the brief exchange. Regina had been unaware that her phonecall was being recorded, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that the person she'd called had been purposefully cautious to avoid possibly incriminating himself in any way. And if anything screamed of an unsavory character, that sure as hell did.
After taking what she'd found straight back to Killian, a fiery determination in her eyes as she'd slapped the full transcript down in front of him, he'd immediately called and asked Regina to come down to the station.
She was sugary sweet with him on the phone, attempting to make herself sound compliant and willing to help their investigation in any way she could. But Emma didn't trust her, especially not with the added evidence against the woman. She was involved, or at the very least, she knew who was.
By the time Regina arrived at the station, Killian was briefing Emma on how they'd handle her. She was currently playing the overly-helpful angle, attempting to make them believe she had nothing to hide. But they knew better. She already didn't seem to like Emma, so she was more likely to irritate the woman enough, with body language and pointed questions, to make her slip up and reveal something she hadn't intended to.
"So, basically, you wanna go Good Cop, Bad Cop on her? Cliché, but alright. I'm down for Bad Cop. I already can't stand the woman."
Emma had shrugged, heading toward the interview room where Regina Mills was waiting for them. Killian grabbed her arm gently.
"I may be wrong, but I have a feeling this may be somewhat personal to you, for whatever reason... don't let her get under your skin, Swan. We want her to slip up, so pushing her is fine, but she may get defensive when we present her with the evidence. And she strikes me as the vindictive type. If she cuts too deep, don't take the bait."
Emma scowled at him, tugging her arm out of his grasp and folding them.
"So you think if she says something mean, I'm gonna lose my cool and be unprofessional. You think I can't control my emotions? That's what you're saying?"
There was an edge to her tone, and Killian quickly shook his head.
"No. Not in the slightest. I trust you to be professional, of course I do. But...I know how women like her operate. She seems to have some kind of insight into your past, somehow, and she's willing to weaponize it for her own defence, to throw you off and knock you down when you're getting close to something or someone she wishes to protect. Believe me, Swan...I know all too well how deep the wounds of our past can go. And when people open up those wounds…"
Emma stared at him, feeling far more vulnerable than she was prepared for. He saw right down into her soul, and somehow saw the damage there without flinching. Perhaps she should have known he'd be perceptive, being a profiler and all. But it still unnerved her, and she wrapped her arms just a little bit tighter around herself, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.
"I can handle myself. Can we just get in there and do this?"
She said, her tone clipped and far steadier than she felt. He studied her for a moment before nodding, and gesturing for her to go in ahead of him.
CS
The interview began somewhat smoothly, straightforward identifiers stated, her job description, how she had come into contact with the victims and so on. Regina then readily gave her alibi for specific times Killian inquired about on the nights the murders had taken place, which Emma quickly noted down, Regina eyeing her coolly across the table for a moment before turning her full attention back to Killian. The session was being recorded but Emma was jotting down the information she wanted to immediately chase up once they'd finished questioning the group home director.
Once the formalities were covered for the sake of the interview record, Killian moved straight onto the more probing questions. Where the three missing files had gone; if any other files were missing; who had access to confidential information her company kept on biological parents and the children in the various group homes' care. To her credit, Regina did seem to be trying to answer the questions, seemingly as best she could without mentioning a certain phone-call to someone she obviously believed still had the files in question.
"So, you have no knowledge of anyone who would have reason to remove the files in question?"
"No, I have no idea for what reason they've been removed," Emma's bullshit radar didn't ping, and she narrowed her eyes, reading half-truths but no lies, "I have my assistant hard at work trying to identify any further missing files, in case there are any. But I assure you, Detective, this is not the way I run my business. I like order. Files have never just gone missing before. And I will get to the bottom of it."
Killian paused, levelling a steady gaze on her, without giving anything away.
"And the three victims. You never personally dealt with any of their cases?"
Regina was clearly trying to rein in her irritation at the way he was rewording the same questions, aware that he was probably trying to trip her up.
"I told you, detective, I don't know anything about any of those poor murdered women, other than what I've seen on the television."
Regina's expression was calm and composed again, the flash of irritation tamed, hands folded atop the metal table as she kept her gaze fixed on Killian. And just as she had the last time they'd met, she took a cursory glance in Emma's direction and then proceeded to ignore her, unaware that the blonde was simply waiting for an opening to smugly reveal their evidence. And now she had it.
"Care to explain to us who it was that you called in relation to the missing files then?"
Emma slapped a file down, opening it and presenting the transcript of Regina's tapped phonecall, hiding the thrill of satisfaction that surged through her when the color immediately drained from the older woman's face as her eyes scanned the words.
With her lips pressed into a thin line, she stared at the transcript in silence, before composing herself. Lifting her chin, she stared Emma dead in the eyes.
"You had no right to record my phone calls."
She said calmly, though a tremor of fury simmered beneath the words and her cheeks blanched. Emma held her gaze unflinchingly.
"You're hiding something, and protecting someone. You're obstructing justice, so yeah, we had the right. Guess you didn't read the warrant we gave you in full - rookie error, especially for a businesswoman such as yourself. And hey, call us crazy but our priority is finding out who murdered three women in their homes, so I really don't care what you think of our methods. It got us results. So, please, do explain. Because right now, lady, you're looking at 3 to 5 on accessory charges. And I'm really not sure an orange jumpsuit will do much for your complexion."
Regina paled further, her jaw clenching as she looked from Killian to Emma. Her self-preservation mode was kicked into high gear, Emma could tell. She'd seen that look countless times, right before someone rolled on their partner in crime.
"Fine," Regina eventually growled, leaning back in her chair, "I'll tell you who I called. But I don't know anything about the murders. All I know is that I had a break-in that I didn't report, because I was told not to. Files went missing. A lot of them. But as far as I'd been aware, they were all brought back, so I let it go. I only realized there were still files missing when you showed up."
"Who did you call? Who brought the files back? And who told you not to report the break-in?"
Emma demanded. Regina stared at the transcript again, swallowing hard before lifting her hardened gaze to Emma's.
"That would all happen to be the same person, Detective. His name is Robert Gold."
CS
Robert Gold was one of the wealthiest men on the East Coast. He'd risen fast in the business world over the last five years, coming out of nowhere and swiftly dominating his competition, carving a name for himself with his ruthless and unforgiving approach. He had a hand in the dealings of most of the big businesses in the city, and if he was somehow involved in the murders of three women, Killian knew they'd have to tread carefully.
Though he'd never met the man, Killian was well aware of his reputation and influence, particularly in Boston, where he was primarily based. His name seemed to inevitably crop up time and again, yet he never got his hands dirty, so there was only ever circumstantial-at-best evidence against him. He was untouchable. And he knew it.
As soon as the interview with Regina was over, Killian escorted her out. They'd gleaned little more from the woman than Gold's name and a grudging explanation of how she knew him - he was a chairman on their citizen's board and a big-time benefactor, because of course he was - before she'd lawyered up and refused to give up anything else.
On his return from escorting their reluctant interviewee to the lobby, Killian found Emma at her desk once more, scowl on her face as she pored over the interview notes.
"Swan. May I speak with you?"
She lifted her gaze, frown still in place, and nodded, immediately following Killian towards David's office. He knocked on the door, and David waved them in. Shutting the door firmly once Emma had entered behind him, Killian turned back to David.
"Sir, we've had somewhat of a break in the case. But as promising as that sounds, what we've found is only set to make this case an uphill battle. We're going to need...creative tactics on this one. The usual cut-and-dry protocols aren't going to cut it."
David narrowed his eyes, studying the man for a moment before leaning his elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of him.
"That's decidedly vague and cryptic, Jones…"
"Aye...well...we've just interviewed Ms. Mills, and she's turned over a name. One I'm more than a little familiar with. In fact, I'm sure that you yourself will have probably heard his name, like some sort of legendary ghost story that every law enforcement department on the East Coast has probably heard whispered at some point."
"Still cryptic…"
Emma cut in, rolling her eyes and perching on the edge of David's desk like a bored teenager, waiting for him to get to the point. He sighed, rubbing his temple briefly before finding David's gaze once more.
"Robert Gold is involved."
David stilled, and Emma's eyes darted between him and Killian, waiting for some kind of explanation. When it wasn't immediately offered, the two men simply staring each other out as David processed the information, she cleared her throat, unused to being out of the loop in her own case.
"Sorry, slow to catch on here, but who the hell is Robert Gold and why are you guys acting like he's some kind of criminal Santa Claus?"
Killian chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head.
"I suppose you could call him that. He's not a man to be crossed, and from what I can gather, the majority of the criminal underworld answer to him, one way or another. He's been tied to hundreds of cases, spanning decades, despite the fact that he only seems to have existed for five or so years. And no one has ever had enough on him to get anything to stick. If he's involved in this case...well-"
"Creative tactics, you said. What exactly do you have in mind, Special Agent?"
David was wary, Emma could tell from his tone. But she too was intrigued as to what Killian was thinking. He scratched his ear and sighed, clearly not relishing whatever idea he was formulating.
"Undercover. We need to lure him, if indeed he is the one behind this. I can guarantee it won't be him carrying out the murders, but if we somehow catch his attention, using the common factors we've found in all the victims so far, then perhaps we can get a solid link. And find out who is doing Gold's dirty work in the process. Figure out why these women have found themselves on the wrong side of Gold."
There was silence for endless seconds, Emma's mind racing and David mulling over the pros and cons of a risky undercover operation.
"I want in. On the undercover thing."
Emma finally said, and David's head snapped up, shaking his head vehemently.
"No, Emma. I am not letting you put yourself-"
"You're not my dad and I don't need you getting all protective over me. This is my job, my case. I have a responsibility to get justice for those women. And I know exactly what will lure him out."
David's jaw clenched, the idea of her putting herself in the line of fire not sitting well with him in the slightest.
"I'm listening."
Killian said, curiosity and a slight spark of admiration in his gaze. David glared at him, unhappy that he seemed to be open to the idea of putting his best detective in harm's way.
"Well…" Emma took a deep breath, "All our victims gave up babies at some point, and went on to have pretty cushy lifestyles. Nice homes in nice neighborhoods, with friends and good jobs and happy marriages. What if he's punishing them? For giving up a kid and still getting a good life. Maybe he sees it as unfair? And he's punishing the mother. Ripping her heart out, perhaps some kind of poetic justice in his sick little mind...so maybe someone gave him up? And he thinks he's somehow restoring a karmic balance, or something?"
Killian looked impressed, eyeing her with the slightest hint of a smile.
"You ever considered profiling, Swan?"
He said, and she felt herself flush with the casual compliment. David cleared his throat.
"And how exactly does this theory, as clever as it may be, correlate with you putting yourself in the firing line of a psychopathic killer?"
"Not necessarily a psychopa-"
"Shut it, Jones."
David muttered and Killian did as he was told, closing his mouth and moving his gaze back to a bemused Emma.
"Well...I...uh…" she knotted her hands together and began to pace, wondering how the hell to put her jumbled thoughts into words, "I...gave up a kid when I was seventeen. And I have a pretty decent life now. So it wouldn't exactly be a huge stretch for me to fit the bill of a prospective victim…"
Heavy silence descended once more, and Emma swallowed thickly, keeping her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, unable to meet David's eyes or find pity in Killian's. She'd never told anyone about that sordid secret from her past. Not David, not Will. No one. She'd buried it deep down inside and tried not to think about the little boy she'd handed over, half of her heart gone with him and the other half broken into pieces she wasn't sure would ever fully mend.
"Emma…"
David said softly, suddenly on his feet and rounding his desk to embrace her. She shook her head, stepping back and crossing her arms, shoulders squared defensively.
"I'm fine. It was a long time ago. But it puts me in the unique position of being exactly what this guy is looking for. And I can use that. We'll need to create a file and get Regina to plant it, to subtly wave it under his nose - she'll work with us if she thinks she can swerve the accessory charges - and then just make up some happy, perfect world for me. Give me the kind of picture perfect life this guy hated those women for having."
David stared at her, clearly able to see her determination and knowing that he was never going to successfully convince her not to do this. Killian stepped forward.
"We can make this work. Belle can create any documentation we need, and we'll fine tune the details, make everything as bulletproof as we can - as safe as we can - before we do this."
David still didn't look completely convinced, but he knew he was outnumbered and that the plan, if executed carefully and cleverly, was a good one. Straightforward policework wasn't going to nail Robert Gold and whoever he had doing his dirty work. They were going to have to think outside the box, and that's exactly what this plan was made of.
"I don't want you doing this on your own."
"I'll be out there with her."
Killian quickly interjected, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Granted, she knew that part of what their unsub seemed to hone in on was a happy marriage, but she hadn't thought about those particular ramifications as her impulsive yet clever plan had formed in her mind.
"Define 'out there with me'?"
Emma said carefully, keeping her voice neutral despite the panic surging through her. Logically, she knew Killian was a good choice of partner for this gig, professionally speaking. He was experienced, knew the ins and outs of what it would take to pull off a successful undercover mission, and he clearly understood how carefully they would have to tread with the man they were trying to lure.
But then there was the fact that she'd slept with him, and the waters were already a little muddy in regards to what they were to each other. There was a very blatant attraction, of which they were both acutely aware. But, despite Emma drawing a very clear line in the sand when it came to boundaries, she wasn't entirely convinced that she could resist the pull she felt to him if she was forced to fake being his adoring wife.
And from the way he looked at her, when she knew he thought she wasn't aware, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be the only one who would struggle.
"We'll be partners. Fake-married partners…"
"Now, hang on a minute-"
David protested, holding up a hand, but Killian cut him off.
"I'm best equipped to have her back in the field, and you know it."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about. Don't think I'm oblivious to the way you look at her, Jones."
David snapped back, arms folded in such a dad-like pose that Emma rolled her eyes, despite feeling her cheeks blaze with embarrassment. Killian flushed, even the tips of his ears turning pink, and Emma didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Apparently they sucked at keeping the simmering attraction they were both fighting on the down-low.
"Enough. It'll be strictly professional so you can knock it off with the overbearing dad act. I've never had parents and I don't need them now."
Emma quickly closed her mouth, realizing too late that she'd revealed another piece of her past that she didn't talk about. David knew she was an orphan, grew up in the system and so on. But Killian didn't. And she didn't want his pity. When she hesitantly met his gaze, she didn't find any though. Only a flash of admiration and that look she couldn't quite place; the one that burned right down to her soul and had her itching with the urge to put as much distance between them as possible.
"I want every tiny detail of this thing planned out completely before I'm letting my best detective anywhere near it, do you understand me, Jones? And I want check-ins every night, from both of you. It's going to take a hell of a lot of manpower to make it bulletproof, but I'll reassign the entire damn department to it, if that's what it takes to keep Emma safe."
Emma sighed, arms crossed defensively across her chest as she levelled a weak glare on David.
"You're doing the 'dad' thing again."
She accused wearily and he shrugged.
"I protect my people. You know that, Emma. And you are certainly no exception. You're practically family by this point, and trusting Jones with your wellbeing is asking an awful lot of me..."
"Jones is still in the room," Killian grumbled in response, unfazed by the withering glare the other man shot him, "But for what it's worth...I know Emma is more than capable of holding her own - hell, I'm pretty certain she could kick my arse into next week without breaking a sweat...but you have my word, I will do everything in my power to make sure she's safe."
Ordinarily, it would get Emma's back up to hear any man say they'd 'protect' her, but she couldn't find fault in his tactful approach. He admired her strength and independence, and he wasn't shy about saying it, but he was making it very clear that he'd have her back in the field as a partner, just as she'd have his.
As apprehensive as she was about the prospect of playing the role of his adoring wife, she wasn't concerned about the safety aspect. They'd be a good team, and they'd get results, of that she was almost certain.
CS
It took a few days and double overtime for all the details to be ironed out, and for a suitable location to be pinned down, where the 'happy couple' would be moving into as soon as they'd been briefed and prepped to within an inch of their lives. Belle did an exemplary job of creating bulletproof paperwork; passports, marriage certificates, house deeds, DMV records...even wedding photos that didn't look ostensibly photoshopped. Emma was impressed by how authentic it all looked (and the convincing wedding photos maybe unnerved her just a little bit). Regina had agreed to cooperate and had upheld her side of the deal, no doubt keen to avoid accessory charges, putting Emma and Killian's file front and center in her client portfolios. It would grab anyone's attention if they went snooping.
David still wasn't happy, evidenced by the permanently-pensive expression he'd been wearing since the very idea of their current plan had been formulated. He kept asking Emma if she was sure about all this and reminding her that she could change her mind. She knew he was hoping she would. But that wasn't going to happen.
Which was why, just three days after they'd come up with the idea, Emma and Killian were ready to start playing house. Well, in all the practical ways they were ready, but both of them were steadfastly ignoring their shared nervousness at the looming enforced closeness of living together as fake husband and wife.
The neighborhood they were moving into was a quiet, relatively wealthy, suburban area. As soon as they'd secured the foreclosure - the real estate company that was in possession of the property more than willing to aid the investigation - removals trucks had moved in, making the empty house look like a cosy home in no time. It was all ready for Emma and Killian to move into, curious neighbors all no-doubt eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new residents.
Most of their neighbors were young professional couples or families, and even when they'd been briefed about it all, Emma had already felt like she could never possibly fit in with all that. The entire room had chuckled when she'd snarkily asked if they were moving to Wisteria Lane. But her snark was only covering up how out-of-her-depth she already felt, and as everything was finalized, she wondered what the hell had possessed her to think any of it was a good idea.
David had sent both Emma and Killian home early the night before they were due to step into their roles as Mr. & Mrs. Jones. They had a final night in their own respective spaces, before they'd be sharing a home and a responsibility to pull off their ruse. It was a daunting prospect, and it had both of them reaching for something a little stronger than coffee.
As Killian tried to focus on whatever sitcom he'd managed to find on the hotel TV, Emma was a few blocks away at her place, relaxing into a lavender bath and hoping that getting drunk on the fumes of the essential oil would settle her nervous energy.
Giving up on the sitcom, Killian reached for his phone. He fired off a text to Graham, his second-in-command who would be taking the reins and leading his team once Killian had stepped into his undercover role, ensuring he had all his bases covered for his temporary promotion to begin the next day. Graham responded immediately, reassuring Killian that he was prepared, seeming to innately understand that nerves had set in for his boss.
With his hands still restless, Killian found his thumb hovering over Emma's number on his phone, eyes tracing over the contours of her name as he absently wondered if she was similarly apprehensive about their impending mission as he was.
She was.
Even the lavender fumes from her bath didn't seem to be helping and she sighed in frustration, leaning her head back against the tub and watching the steam curl above the water before disappearing into the humid air of her bathroom, fogging up the mirrors and beading pleasantly on her exposed skin.
The sharp vibration of her cellphone against the sideboard next to the tub had her cursing, startled, and she quickly reached for it, half-dreading a call from David to inform her that another victim had turned up, after four days of radio silence from their escalating unsub. Seeing the caller ID, she frowned. She hadn't expected a call from him.
"Killian? What's wrong?"
She answered, a frown on her face as she sat bolt upright in her bathtub, poised to dive out and get back into her clothes in record time, should she need to. He chuckled softly in response, and she could almost visualize him shaking his head and scratching behind his ear.
"Nothing's wrong, Swan. Stand down. I was just checking in."
"Checking in?" she repeated, the tension in her shoulders starting to ebb away, "Is that FBI talk for 'I'm on edge because I'm not used to being at home with an entire evening of nothing to do when I feel like I should be at work'? Because...yeah, I feel you."
Killian laughed warmly then, and she knew she'd hit the nail on the head.
"You managed to get that from one sentence. I honestly think you should consider profiling, love. You're a natural."
Emma rolled her eyes despite the smile threatening to lift her lips, and leaned back into the warm water.
"Nah, the whole psychoanalyzing and getting into the heads of all those sick fucks out there...not really my jam. I prefer to just catch them. I don't wanna try to understand them."
"Fair enough. And what are you doing this evening, if you're also feeling the strain of this enforced relaxation time?"
Emma paused, glancing down at her very naked self, wondering if telling him the truth was only going to sound like a come-on.
"Uh...well...I'm actually taking a bath right now…"
She bit her lip, practically able to see the flush that was no doubt coloring his cheeks now, and hear his thick swallow as he tried to come up with a measured response that wouldn't have her hanging up on him. She had to smother a laugh when he remained silent for a few seconds.
"Apologies, lass. I'll let you go-"
"No, it's alright. I mean...it's not like you can see me," she laughed breathlessly and winced at her own awkwardness, "Uh...I figured this stupidly expensive lavender shit would chill me out or something. It's not working. I should probably get my money back."
She was rambling and she knew it. But he went along with it, and for that she was grateful.
"Aye, false advertising, I'd say. I attempted to watch some sitcom I've never heard of, but frankly, it's terrible. I'm starting to wish this hotel room had a bathtub. Showers aren't quite as conducive to relaxing. I'm considering room service, but I don't fancy the idea of remortgaging my home just to afford a chicken burger."
"You could come over," Emma clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in shock at the fact that she was naked in her bathtub and had just invited her soon-to-be fake-husband over, "I-I mean...not for a bath...I-I...uh...I meant that we can get takeout or something. I'll be wearing clothes. Obviously. And yeah...we can order burgers or pizza or whatever. Cheaper than room service...and we're both bored out of our brains sat around on our own, doing nothing all evening anyway."
"I'd like that," he responded softly, clearly amused by her panic-stricken rambling, "I'll give you an hour or so? Text me your address."
"Yeah. Alright. Bring beer."
"Your wish is my command, Swan. See you later."
CS
Killian turned up at her door one hour and four minutes later, a six-pack of beer under his arm and an easy smile on his face masking the butterflies that took flight in his stomach as soon as she opened the door.
She was barefoot, wearing yoga pants and an oversized grey New York Rangers hoodie, hair piled up into a messy bun atop her head. He tried to ignore his stuttering pulse as she greeted him uncharacteristically shyly, gesturing for him to come in. He couldn't help but glance around and take in her home as he followed her through to the kitchen.
"I figured we could order from my favorite pizza place. They know me pretty well now, so the delivery is fast and they always throw in a few complimentary extras. And yeah, I know exactly what that says about my dietary habits."
She shrugged, grabbing a bottle opener from a drawer and opening two of the beers he'd brought, handing one to him as she leaned against the counter. He gratefully accepted, and took a swig, far too aware of her eyes on him.
She'd done her best to taper down the flare of want that had sent a shock of heat down her spine the second she'd opened the door to him. But he was wearing those jeans he'd been wearing the night they'd gone back to his hotel together (though she wasn't about to analyze why the hell she remembered his clothing choices from that night), with a simple dark blue button-down that was open enough to tease her with an eyeful of chesthair. She didn't need her imagination. She'd seen everything he had to offer, and she'd been actively trying to forget it ever since. But when he smiled at her like that, with his hair an artful mess that her fingers itched to bury themselves into, he really wasn't helping.
Shaking herself, and averting her eyes from watching the way his throat worked when he gulped down a mouthful of beer, Emma busied her nervous hands by peeling the label from her own beer bottle and gesturing with a cant of her head for him to follow her through to the living room.
She was wondering if inviting him over had been such a smart idea. They were about to go undercover and they both knew that their ability to make it work could be critical to solving their case, and getting justice for three innocent women. They were both hyper-aware of the attraction between them, and they'd agreed to keep things strictly professional. That was going to be more important than ever once they assumed their roles as fake husband and wife, and she didn't want to jeopardize the entire case just because of an inability to control her baser instincts.
Steeling her resolve, Emma dropped down on the sofa and motioned for him to join her.
"What do you fancy, then?"
She asked, tucking her legs underneath her and grabbing her cellphone, ready to hit speed dial on the takeout place once he'd decided on his order. Killian choked on the beer he'd just sipped then, eyes wide as he stared at her.
"Uh...I-..."
"For dinner…"
She clarified, feeling her cheeks flush even as she tried to bite back a smirk. It was somewhat reassuring to her that she wasn't the only one who felt all off-kilter by his presence in her apartment. Killian cleared his throat, the tips of his ears coloring with embarrassment.
"Right. Of course. Pizza is good with me. None of that pineapple nonsense though. Just good old fashioned pepperoni."
Emma scoffed.
"Lightweight," she muttered, as she hit speed dial, "Everyone knows that BBQ Meat Feast is the only pizza option."
He smirked at that, raising his eyebrow suggestively, tongue pressing against his cheek, and she just knew he was holding back some saucy quip that would have her rolling her eyes even as heat prickled under her skin. She was thankful that someone answered the phone at that point, and she focused on keeping her voice steady as she gave their orders.
Once she'd hung up, and while they waited for their food to arrive, Emma turned to conversation back to safer topics. Primarily, work. Because getting into the whole personal side of things, and sharing some kind of heart-to-heart with him the night before she took up the role of his fake adoring wife...well, that would just be too much.
They went over all the little details they'd been briefed with multiple times over the last few days, repeated all the "facts" about themselves and their "marriage" that they'd had to memorize for when those nosy neighbors inevitably wanted to 'get to know them'. How did we meet? How did you propose? How long have we been married? Where did we go on honeymoon? They had to be on the same page for all the nuanced detail, and they quizzed each other as they waited for the pizza guy to show up.
"Where did you take me on our first date?"
She asked, awaiting his pre-penned answer. He placed his beer down on the coffee table and turned to face her.
"Pizza at your place. I was helping you study for your biochem final and it wasn't even a date. Until it was. We had beer and we ruined two pages of your notes when I knocked the bottle over as I leaned in to kiss you."
The air backed up in Emma's lungs as she stared at him, his answer hanging between them and tension settling thick and heavy. He was closer than he had been before, as they gravitated toward each other, his eyes hooded with desire and hers locked on his lips.
"That...wasn't what we rehearsed…" she whispered, her pulse stuttering madly as she unconsciously leaned closer.
"No, but I think it suits us better, don't you agree?"
He sounded as wrecked as she felt, and even though every single rational braincell she possessed was screaming at her not to do this, to employ that self-control she'd been clinging to since the first day she'd found out who he was, her body was betraying her. With her eyes fluttering closed, she gave into the delicious anticipation of his lips finding hers (finally). She could feel his closeness, even with her eyes closed, and it was a heady feeling when she lost herself to it. He smelled so damn good, and she'd dreamed about the taste of his kiss more times than she'd ever admit since their night together.
With him leaning in close, his fingers tentatively reaching to brush her cheek in the moments before his lips met hers...the sudden, jarring sound of her doorbell had her jerking away from him and breaking the moment.
Jumping up on shaky legs, Emma mumbled under her breath and bolted toward the hallway. Taking a moment to compose herself away from his intense gaze, she ran a hand over her face and tried to remember how to breathe. She'd never had anyone get so well and truly under her skin before, and she knew she was treading into dangerous territory. She didn't do feelings or relationships or trust. And yet here she was, about to dive headfirst into a fake marriage with someone who she was having a seriously hard time controlling herself around.
Finally answering the door and tipping the guy well (for saving her from herself, she supposed), Emma returned to the living room and steadfastly avoided eye contact with Killian. She could feel his gaze on her, but she tried to forget that mere moments ago she'd been about to make out with him on her couch.
"We got fortune cookies and chicken wings free this time. Not bad."
She said, digging through the paper bag and trying her best to sound casual, even though her heart was still racing. Killian reached forward and took on of the fortune cookies she'd dropped onto the table, opening it and pulling out the slip of paper inside. He seemed to be taking her lead and ignoring the fact that he'd been about to kiss her just a few minutes earlier. And for that, she was grateful, relieved he wasn't going to try and talk about it.
"An unexpected relationship will become permanent..."
He read, quirking an eyebrow at the fortune and then looking to Emma as she finally met his eyes. She swallowed thickly and rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, I once had one that said "an old love will come back to you" but that's about as likely as pigs sprouting wings."
She scoffed, and pushed the pizza box across the coffee table toward him. Killian eyed her for a moment, before seemingly deciding to keep whatever he'd been about to say to himself, and instead grabbing a slice of pizza.
The tension subsided as they ate, Emma choosing to remain cross-legged on the floor and Killian giving her the space she was silently requesting, remaining on the sofa. The silence between them became more comfortable, and Emma turned on the TV to provide some background noise, which turned into them jokingly commentating some obscure gameshow. They polished off the pizzas with ease, and by the time they'd finished watching and laughing over the TV show, Emma was stifling a yawn. Perhaps the lavender bath had eventually helped.
"I should head back and get an early night, love. Looks like you're ready to call it a night too. I'll choose not to take your yawning as a reflection on my company."
He chuckled, helping Emma to dispose of the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. She smiled at him sheepishly, her eyes hazy with tiredness, and he grabbed his jacket. She followed him to the door.
"Thanks for...coming over. I had fun."
"Aye, me too. Get a good night's sleep, Swan. It's going to be a challenging few weeks."
With her thoughts sobering as she remembered what lay ahead of them, Emma nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as he stepped out of her front door. Turning, he paused, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. Her breath caught at the brief closeness, and she looked up to meet his serious gaze.
"We'll be fine, and we'll get results, of that I'm sure. But anyway. Thank you for a lovely evening. Goodnight, darling."
CS
Thank you all so much for you patience. Getting this chapter finished has been an absolute bitch of a task. I'd like to thank those few little gems who've messaged me about this fic on Tumblr, asking after an update on the…well, update. Please know that I LOVE getting any and all messages about my fics, and I hugely appreciate knowing that people are still invested, even with my slow updating schedule!
Also thanks to Irene and Marta for being my biggest cheerleaders and enablers with this fic. And I had to throw a subtle little dedication to Laura into this chapter (did you spot it?), as an homage to Tripping Over the Blue Line, which is a fic that has really kept me going over the last few months.
All feedback is so very gratefully appreciated, too, btw!