Your Case or Mine

Chapter 8

Emma awoke by degrees, her body slowly drifting back into semi-consciousness. She was warm. Too warm. Cracking an eye open, feeling slightly disoriented, she immediately froze. Panic rose in her chest, tightening her throat as she tried to swallow it down and search her sleep-fogged brain for an explanation as to why she was in bed with Killian Jones (again).

Within a few seconds, she'd recalled where she was and why she was sharing a bed with her former one-night stand. But the panic remained. Because it wasn't that she was in bed with him in the first place that was rattling her...but the fact that she was currently tangled up in bed with him.

She remembered going to bed angry and upset, laying on her side with her back to him and listening as he'd entered the room, retreated to the bathroom and returned a little while later to tentatively climb into bed beside her. He'd said goodnight, a quiet, hopeful thing laced around her name, that had made her squeeze her eyes shut and bite her lip, holding back a response and feeling like a bit of an asshole for letting him think she was already sleeping. But she wasn't ready to face him.

She didn't sleep for hours. Instead, she lay awake replaying the evening, chastising herself over and over for opening up so damn easily to him. She didn't know what the hell had possessed her to do that. (Or, she did, and she just didn't wish to acknowledge it).

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she eventually had, and now she was waking up in Killian's arms. His right arm was pillowed under her, with her head against his shoulder, and her right hand gently resting on his bare chest, over his heart that was beating steadily beneath her fingers. Their legs were tangled together beneath the sheets...and Emma had absolutely no idea how she was going to disentangle in order to retreat back to her side of the bed, without waking Killian in the process.

Unsure of how heavy or light of a sleeper he was, the panic was rising again and Emma had to focus on her breathing for a moment. She wasn't a cuddler. She didn't do lazy morning cuddles and sleepy smiles. She didn't even remember the last time she'd woken up beside someone. (That was a lie, she remembered all too well the last guy to stay the night and he was the reason no other guys had seen the morningside of her bed).

When Killian suddenly sighed deeply in his sleep and shifted, their legs untangling as he shifted onto his side facing her, she wanted to weep with relief. Quickly and carefully scooting backwards and away from him, she turned over too, her back to him like the night before. Maybe if he woke now, she mused, he would simply think she hadn't moved all night.

After a few endlessly long minutes passed, with Emma staring at the digital clock next to the bed that announced 6:42am, the mattress shifted again and Killian was getting out of bed, padding quietly across the room to the bathroom, As the lock on the door clicked, Emma let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and muttered a curse at herself for being so fucked up about something as small as an accidental cuddle. But it was more the fact that her unconscious brain had seeked out the warmth and comfort of his arms, which her conscious brain was actively fighting against. It was the ease with which she found herself gravitating towards him that had her pulling away even more fiercely than usual.

When Killian emerged from the bathroom a minute or so later, she was somewhat relieved when she heard him leave the room and make his way downstairs, so she flopped onto her back and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep again.

CS

Killian hadn't been sleeping. He'd awoken a good ten minutes or so before she had, and had stayed perfectly still when he'd opened his eyes and found Emma pressed up against his side. She was warm and soft and looked a lot less fierce with her features relaxed in sleep. He'd let his eyes roam her face for a few moments, committing to memory the constellation of freckles over her nose and the delicate arch of her eyebrows; the way her lips pursed slightly and her eyelids flickered as she dreamed.

But as treasured as the moments of cataloguing her beauty were, he felt like a bit of a creep watching her sleep, and shut his eyes. Instead, he settled for savoring the feel of her in his arms, her walls down and her sleep-warmed skin heating his pleasantly. He didn't know which of them had initiated their middle-of-the-night cuddle, because they seemed to have met in the middle of the bed, but he wasn't complaining either way.

Killian could sense the moment Emma woke up though, her body immediately tensing up, and her sharp intake of breath as she realized she was in his arms a dead giveaway. He focused on keeping his face relaxed and his breathing deep and even, sure that she'd bolt immediately if she knew he was awake too. Able to sense her panic, he decided to give her an easy out, and feigned turning over in his sleep, untangling their legs in the process and feeling her quickly put some distance back between them.

His heart sank a little, a tiny part of him hoping that maybe she would have welcomed the closeness, but he wasn't unrealistic. He knew full well that she was skittish and that their heart-to-heart the night before had been a huge hurdle for her...one that she seemed to regret.

So he waited for a few minutes, not wanting her to realize he'd been awake the whole time, before slipping out of bed and making his way over to the bathroom. He took care of business and brushed his teeth, glaring at himself in the mirror and silently berating himself for getting in way too deep with a woman who had no interest in a relationship or feelings of any kind. His brother would have given him that bemused, pitying look and said his name in that infuriatingly condescending way of his, telling him he wore his heart on his sleeve, and trusted people with it much too easily.

Throwing his toothbrush back into the cup, he muttered a curse and shook his head. She was under his skin, well and truly. But he knew that once the case was over and they returned to their lives, their real lives, there was a very real chance he'd never see her again. Right now, there was an enforced closeness that they couldn't do much about. He didn't want to mistake that for her willingness to see him as anything more than a work partner, lest he return to Virginia with shattered expectations and a broken heart.

Deciding he was definitely not going to get anymore sleep, Killian headed downstairs, his eyes flitting over Emma's form briefly before he left the room. She still had her back to him, as he'd expected, and he really did try to squash down the disappointment that had wedged itself uncomfortably between his ribs.

Once in the kitchen, he dug through the cupboards, making a mental note that they really had to go shopping seeing as all they had for breakfast was the cold pizza from the night before. Leaving Emma half in case she appeared in search of food, he set the coffee machine to run and occupied himself by flipping through the TV channels.

After his second cup of coffee, the fancy clock mounted on the kitchen wall announced it was finally a civil hour, so he made a quick call the Graham, checking in for any updates.

"G'morning, sir. Nothing to report on this end. We're keeping a close eye on the file we planted at the group home, and Ms. Mills is cooperating in regards to keeping us informed of any communications from Gold. It's only been 24 hours though, and thankfully there have been no new victims."

"The last two were in quick succession. Why the pause now? Is there any reason to believe he may have a victim that he's keeping alive? Any new missing persons cases involving women in his demographic, with the appropriate backgrounds?"

"I'll have Belle look into it. A hostage would be a deviation from his MO thus far…"

"Aye, but we can't rule anything out yet."

"Yessir. I was...discussing some ideas with David. And perhaps you and Emma should go out in public, be seen a little more in the area. We know he chose his victims using the agency's files, but we also know he targets happy young couples, so it can't hurt to potentially put yourselves on his radar."

Killian remained silent, glancing toward the stairs as he chewed on his bottom lip. Going out in public under the guise of being a happily married young couple who were madly in love with each other would be well out of Emma's comfort zone, especially after the night before, and the fact that she had firmly brought her walls back up to shut him out.

"Leave it with me. I'll discuss it with Emma."

He finally replied, realizing that Graham was still waiting for a response. He didn't want to agree to something without running it by his partner first, and he was almost sure she would balk at the idea anyway. It was one thing to live together and let people assume that their life behind closed doors was that of a 'normal' married couple, but to be in a situation that would potentially require some level of PDA and improvisation that appeared natural...well, that was a whole other thing to ask of her.

Hearing light footsteps descending the stairs, Killian wrapped up his conversation with Graham, thanking him for leading the team in his absence, and hung up. He was waiting for her to sheepishly appear in the doorway of the kitchen, a fresh batch of coffee already brewed for her...but she didn't appear.

Frowning, he wandered through to the hallway and tentatively called her name. No response. But walking through the first living room that they hadn't yet used, he noticed the door to the basement home gym was slightly ajar. Approaching it, he heard the distinct sound of one of the machines being used and he paused at the top of the stairs.

'If she wanted to speak to you, she wouldn't have avoided her morning coffee," the little voice in his brain said. Grimacing, he stepped back and decided that if she wanted her space, he'd respect that and willingly give it to her. After all, they were technically just roommates on a job. She didn't have to talk to him about how she was feeling. He wasn't really her husband.

He busied himself with odd jobs around the house for the rest of the morning, seeing nothing of Emma except a brief flash of golden hair as she'd disappeared back upstairs after her workout. He was tempted to call out to her, ask her what she wanted to do for lunch, seeing as they didn't exactly have much in the cupboards other than the dried and canned goods that had been left for them. But he held back once again, silently marvelling at how well she could manage to avoid someone she was living with when she put her mind to it, and sighed deeply as he pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, staving off the headache of frustration that was starting to bloom.

CS

Emma had absolutely been avoiding him. She'd headed straight down to the home gym, bypassing the kitchen (as though missing her morning caffeine hit would help her already sour mood), and poured all her frustration (mostly at herself) into her workout. She'd pushed herself hard on the treadmill, and been a little more aggressive than usual on the rower. And of course then she'd found it difficult to focus on her yoga stretches, her mind elsewhere and her body wound up too tight to really benefit from the spiritual side of a workout, so she'd given up on that after her third fall onto her butt out of her Firefly pose.

She'd taken her time with her warm-down, mostly intent on wasting as much time in the gym as possible. She was a little surprised Killian hadn't followed her down, or come to check on her considering she'd spent most of the morning locked away in the basement. But she appreciated the fact that he hadn't forced his presence on her and had respected her silent request for space. Not many men were quite as perceptive as him, and she tried not to let it unnerve her that he really did seem able to read her with startling ease.

Glancing at the clock and giving a start when she saw that it was fast approaching lunchtime, her stomach grumbling right on cue, Emma wiped the sweat from her forehead and chest, and tossed her towel around her neck, heading back to her room to shower and change.

Once she was fresh and clean, her hair washed and curled, and her body feeling pleasantly sore from her intense morning workout, she threw on a sundress and swiped a little mascara on her lashes. She felt quite satisfied with her "suburban camouflage". She'd invested in a bunch of dresses and outfits that she figured would help her fit in more, her signature jeans and leather jackets definitely not falling into that category, and had opted for quite a few simple sundresses that she could tolerate without feeling completely out of her depth.

The one she'd chosen today was a yellow button-up dress with black spots, which fell to an inch or so above her knee, and had a thin, black belt cinched around the waist. She paired it with black gladiator sandals that had a slight wedge, and left her hair falling in loose curls down her back. She felt way more dressed up than she usually would for the little trip she had planned to the grocery store, but she didn't want to stick out too much in her usual attire.

Checking her appearance one more time in the full length mirror and nodding in approval, she headed for the stairs. It just so happened that Killian appeared at the bottom of the stairs at that moment, and the air felt like it had suddenly been sucked out of her lungs. By his expression, it seemed as though he felt the same.

He'd been about to go upstairs to find her, somewhat concerned that she still hadn't eaten anything, or had a caffeine hit. But just as he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, she'd appeared at the top, and he could safely say it felt like a sucker punch to his windpipe when he caught sight of her.

She looked breathtaking, even in such a simple outfit. He'd never seen her in a dress, and he was really struggling to keep his eyes from flickering down to the miles of toned legs on display as she slowly made her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he'd finally composed himself enough to find his voice.

"You...uh, you look-"

"Not my usual style. But I'm trying to fit in around here. Not many suburban wives rocking the leather."

She sounded a little defensive and she wouldn't meet his gaze, and he reached up to scratch his ear, his nervous tick that she pretended she hadn't noticed.

"No, I mean, you look beautiful...was what I was going to say."

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment, Emma turning the rings on her left hand over with her thumb - her own nervous tick - before she cleared her throat and nodded toward the front door.

"I'm gonna go grocery shopping..."

"Oh. Yeah, okay. That's probably a good idea, seeing as we have nothing but canned vegetables and pasta in the cupboards. Are we going now?"

Emma immediately shook her head.

"I'm going on my own. I don't need-" she paused, noticing the hurt that flashed in his eyes and not wishing to be needlessly cruel no matter how desperately she was trying to keep him at arm's length, "I just...I need to get out of the house, Jones. I've been living on my own so long that I got used to my own company, and I just need some time by myself."

She'd softened her voice, and could tell he was trying his best to look unaffected by her desire to put as much space between them as she could. Avoiding him all morning seemingly hadn't been enough of a distance for her, and that stung more than he'd care to admit. His eyes gave him away, despite the careful way he'd schooled his features into a mask of indifference, and she dropped her gaze. He stepped out of her way then and forced a smile.

"Don't forget the Cap'n Crunch, love."

He said quietly, trying to inject a lightness into his voice and falling short.

CS

Advil. She was definitely going to need Advil. The tension headache she'd had since waking up for the second time that morning had not abated, and she knew it wouldn't go away until she faced the elephant in the room and stopped trying to avoid Killian. But with a stubborn streak a mile wide, and fear that rose up like bile in her throat at the very thought of talking about what had happened the night before, she didn't see her headache problem being resolved anytime soon. So, stocking up on Advil was her solution.

She'd taken her time perusing the aisles of the Market Basket she'd found while driving around. She'd tossed in the Cap'n Crunch Killian had asked for and Froot Loops for herself, along with a couple boxes of Pop Tarts and a pack of her favorite hot chocolate mix. Milk, bread, some cold meats and condiments went into the cart next, followed by the obligatory jars of peanut butter and jelly.

She'd grudgingly added some produce to her haul, figuring Killian would probably want at least some nutritional value to his meals, even if she avoided anything green like the plague. She stocked up on snacks and a whole slew of frozen foods that would keep them going for at least a week or two. And that's when she'd remembered the mental note she'd made in the car about the Advil.

As she was scanning the aisle, Emma suddenly heard her name being called...and it was a voice she'd recognize anywhere. Her blood ran cold as she stood frozen to the spot, dread constricting her chest. It was only when she heard her name again, closer this time, that she steeled herself and turned around.

"Neal."

She said flatly, her voice much steadier than she felt. He was staring at her, and she was finding it a struggle to maintain a passive expression under his intense gaze. His eyes travelling the length of her made her stomach roll with disgust.

"Emma, you look…"

"I'm busy, Neal. Was there something you wanted?"

She asked, schooling her face into a mask of boredom, drumming her fingers against the handlebar of the shopping cart and causing his gaze to jump to the rock on her finger. Despite the fact that it was all an act and her ring was just a part of that, Emma couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the way his jaw clenched from believing she'd moved on from him so successfully.

"You live around here?"

He asked, the surprise evident in his tone and she folded her arms, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Yes. My husband and I just bought a new house, actually. Not that it's any of your business."

There was the jaw clench again, and it was once again thoroughly satisfying.

"Seems like you've done well for yourself…"

"No thanks to you."

She shot back, and he stared at her, seemingly lost for words, or lost for an excuse more like, she thought bitterly. There'd always been an excuse with him. And she'd been too young and naive and desperate not to be alone that she'd let them fly, again and again. Until he'd tossed her aside just as her parents had.

He dropped his gaze to her cart then, and Emma acted on impulse, grabbing three boxes of condoms from the shelf right beside her and tossing them into the cart, solely to be spiteful and dig the knife in that little bit further as they landed in his line of sight. Neal met her eyes then, the coldness she saw there making a shiver run up her spine.

She shrugged, giving him a saccharine smile and absently brushing her curls back off her face.

"Don't want any accidents," she said breezily, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a husband to get home to. Bye, Neal."

She could feel Neal's glare burning into her back as she walked away, never looking back and trying to contain the warring emotions inside of her as she hurried toward the checkouts. On one hand, her skin buzzed with the self-satisfied feeling of sticking it to him and making him think she'd gone and had a great life despite him, that she'd fallen in love again and been enough for someone, the way she never was for him. But on the other hand, seeing him again had brought back all the feelings she'd fought so hard to bury over the years, that lost little girl who'd thought she'd never matter to anyone, suddenly right there on the surface again.

She paid for and packed the groceries and loaded them into the trunk in a kind of daze, and then, as she sat in the parking lot in the silence of the car, she broke down. Gripping the steering wheel til her knuckles turned white, she let it all out as sobs wracked her body. She'd hoped she'd never see that ghost from her past ever again, and then suddenly there he was, saying her name like no time had passed at all.

It had shaken her up, and it was another ten minutes before she'd managed to calm herself down enough to drive, wiping her tears and wondering how the hell she could explain her panda eyes and shaking hands to Killian. He'd get that overly concerned look on his face, and she'd end up breaking down again and pouring her heart out to him on their sofa once more. She wasn't sure she could handle that again, not when she was desperately trying to keep him at arm's length, so much so that the effort of it had given her a day-long headache that was now made even worse by the crying.

And dammit, she'd forgotten the Advil.

CS

He wanted to ask. She could tell by the concern etched into the handsome lines of his face when he frowned, those too-blue eyes taking in her smudged mascara and no-doubt puffy eyes. She'd walked into the kitchen and dropped the first two grocery bags on the counter, returning to the car for the next and when she returned he was still stood there, on the opposite side of the counter, questions on his lips.

She was grateful he didn't ask, apparently able to read the "leave it alone" vibes she was giving off. Instead, they unpacked the groceries in silence, moving around each other with practiced ease despite the newness of it all, as they found places in cupboards and the pantry for all the food.

Killian stopped dead as he stared into the bag he was unpacking, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, and Emma felt her cheeks immediately burn when he pulled out the boxes of condoms she'd thrown in solely as a way to spite her ex. He looked at her questioningly and she turned away to occupy herself with putting the boxes of cereal away so she didn't have to look him in the eye.

"Not what it looks like. I...uh…"

How exactly did she explain three boxes of condoms without going into all the details? She didn't want to talk about Neal. She didn't want to end up breaking down and opening up to him again right there in the middle of the kitchen. She just wanted to put the groceries away and take a long, hot bath to ease the tension in her shoulders.

"Alright…" he said slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "I'll just...put them in this spare drawer, with the matches and batteries."

Emma could tell he felt like he was walking on eggshells with her, and she felt a stab of guilt that she was obviously making things uncomfortable for him, when he'd done nothing wrong. It was her walls and her issues that were the problem, and her fear of letting anyone see her in any kind of vulnerable state. He didn't deserve her cold shoulder for doing nothing but being a nice guy and unintentionally making her feel things she'd closed herself off to for so long.

And yet she couldn't stop herself from employing all of her defense mechanisms, giving him the side of her that she was sure would put him off her. No one liked an Ice Queen, right? And that was for the best. After all, once their case was over, he'd leave too, just like all the rest. So what was the point in getting attached?

"I'm gonna go take a bath. Don't wait up for me for dinner, I'll just have some cereal later."

With that, she headed for the stairs, not looking back for fear of the disappointment or frustration she might see on his face. She kept trying to remind herself that she was pushing him away for the good of both of them, no matter how much it made her feel like she had a brick sitting heavily in the pit of her stomach. She appreciated the fact that he didn't follow her upstairs to try and talk. He once again just gave her the space she silently asked for.

The hot bath seemed to help ease the ache in her shoulders, and even dulled her headache too. By the time she got out, dried off and pulled on her white pyjama shorts and matching button-up sleep shirt, it was getting late. She slipped downstairs, inhaled a bowl of Froot Loops, and returned to the bedroom. She wanted the day to be over, and an early night seemed the best way of making that happen.

After brushing her teeth, she stepped back into the bedroom and found Killian putting away his clothes, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. She quickly averted her eyes from their appreciative perusal of his tanned, toned back, and swallowed thickly as she tried to find her voice.

"I'm, uh, getting an early night. I'm tired…"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and offered a small, tight smile.

"Aye, me too. It's been a long day."

He moved past her then, heading for the bathroom. She let out a long breath as he shut the door behind him, and tried to ignore the fluttering of nerves at the idea of going to bed with him tonight. She couldn't pretend to already be sleeping when he slipped in beside her this time. No one could fall asleep that fast. So, instead, she climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling and trying to empty her mind of all the noisy thoughts crashing around in her tired brain.

Killian didn't say a word when he joined her, simply switching off the lights and climbing into bed, lying beside her in a weirdly comfortable silence. She didn't feel like she had to fill the silence, but the words were suddenly falling from her lips easily.

"I bumped into my ex at the grocery store. The one who...broke my heart."

Her voice was barely above a whisper and at first, she wasn't sure if he'd even heard her, because he lay perfectly still for long moments.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He asked quietly, and somehow, lying there in the half-darkness with him, she did. Perhaps it felt safer like this, she reasoned. The stillness and the low light, and not feeling like those eyes of his were seeing right down to her soul. It made her feel less vulnerable, even though part of her was screaming not to do it, not to open up once more, that she'd regret it all over again in the harsh light of the morning.

"Yeah…" she whispered finally, her throat constricting.

He waited for her to find her voice, to sort through the jumbled mess of her thoughts and try to organize her emotions enough to explain to him what had happened. She appreciated his patience.

"He called my name, and I just...I froze. I felt like I'd had the floor pulled out from under me. I never thought I'd see him again - I never wanted to see him again. And then he was just...there. Looking exactly the same, having the fucking nerve to look me up and down like he was remembering what I looked like naked," she felt Killian tense up beside her, "I thought I was gonna throw up."

"Please tell me you punched the arsehole in the face? It's the least he deserved."

She could hear the way he was clearly clenching his jaw, reining in a flare of anger toward the man who'd ripped her heart out when she was just a child, left her pregnant and alone in a prison cell and completely destroyed her ability to trust anyone with her heart.

She shook her head, still staring up at the ceiling.

"No. I didn't. But he saw my ring and I really played up the whole 'I've moved on and I have a great life despite you' angle. That's what the condoms were about. I threw them into the cart just to get a rise out of him. It was petty, I know-"

"It was brilliant, love," he corrected, turning on his side to face her and propping himself up on his elbow, "I would've loved to see the expression on that prat's face when you did that."

She didn't turn her head to meet his gaze, but she could feel the soft gaze her had trained on her, and without warning, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I imagined that meeting for years, y'know. I never wanted to see him again, but I'd thought about what I'd do a million times, if I ever did. And none of those scenarios were as good as making him think I've got some perfect suburban life with a husband and a fancy house and a good job. But none of this is real. I don't really have any of this. Truth is, I'm still as broken and fucked up as I was the day he left me. I still let him have that power over me. On the inside, I'm still that stupid 17 year old kid who has no idea what love is or how to properly trust someone, who's too screwed up for anyone to be able to really love. So yeah, the act I put on was brilliant, but in reality, he's still winning. And I hate him for that. I hate myself for that."

A sob caught in her throat and she frustratedly wiped away her tears, angry that she was once again crying over Neal. He didn't deserve her tears or her pain, yet she was still giving them to him, ten years on.

Killian ached to reach out to her, to soothe her and tell her exactly what he saw when he looked at her. A strong, resilient, brave woman who had survived way more than most people would, and who still had so much capacity for love despite her fear of it. A beautiful, powerful, independent woman who had been dealt a shit hand in life right from the start, yet she'd turned it around and made something of herself. A woman who was more than enough, who had stolen his attention (and his heart, if he was being completely honest with himself) and gotten under his skin from the moment he'd met her.

He saw her so differently than the way she saw herself, and it made him ache to hear the self-loathing in her voice as she berated herself for the wrongdoings of a man who had never deserved to be given the gift of her heart and her affections. He'd not only broken her heart, but also crushed her self-esteem and made her doubt her worth. And yet she seemed to think that was somehow her fault.

"Emma. Listen to me. What that sorry excuse of a man did to you was unforgivable. You were a child and he took advantage of you. Men like him...they're predators. They see a person's weakness and they prey on it. He preyed on you; he saw a young girl who wanted nothing more than to be loved and to belong, and he capitalized on that. You didn't do a single thing to deserve that, so please, please don't blame or hate yourself for being brave enough to be vulnerable and trust him. The fact that he turned that around and used it to hurt you...that makes him a monster. It doesn't make you anything other than a young woman who was brave enough to take a chance and fall in love. You're not stupid, and you're certainly not too screwed up to be loved."

She remained silent for a moment, sniffling as she wiped away more tears.

"I think my track record with dating, or more like my lack of it, kinda says otherwise," she said quietly, a bitter edge to her words, "And I always told myself I was just better off alone, that it was safer not to take a risk on someone and that I didn't need anyone other than myself. That I've gotten through most of my life alone and I'm doing fine. But there's a difference between needing and wanting. And I want to stop letting what he did to me ruin every relationship I could potentially have, before I even let them start. But I don't know how. You think I'm brave, but I'm not, Killian. Because if I was, a man who broke my heart a decade ago wouldn't still have enough power over me to keep me in this permanent state of fear when it comes to emotional attachments. That makes me too screwed up to be loved. No one deserves to get stuck with a woman who can't even stay the night without feeling like she's being suffocated."

She gave a shaky sigh and shook her head, eyes tracing the silhouettes that the moonlight filtering through a crack in the curtains onto the small chandelier above them was casting along the ceiling. Killian was still facing her, studying her profile in the darkened room, wishing more than anything that he could make her see herself through his eyes.

"Well maybe there's someone who would love the chance to be stuck with you, and who would gladly take on the challenge of getting you to see yourself differently. To make you see that you're more than enough and help you get rid of those fears. Maybe there's someone who would love to show you what love can really be like, who'd wait for as long as you needed and work to earn your trust."

He reached out then, his fingers tenderly brushing away a stray tear, and she sucked in her breath at the unexpected contact, her heart already hammering and her chest feeling tight with the weight of his loaded words.

"Don't," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, "I'm sorry. I just...please...don't touch me."

He pulled his hand away as though he'd been burned, the rejection a searing pain through his heart. He knew he probably shouldn't have pushed those boundaries or showed his hand, admitting the feelings that had started to take root. She was raw and hurting and shaken up from seeing her arsehole of an ex-boyfriend again. That, coupled with the tension that was already between them following their heart-to-heart and their kiss the night before, had to be an emotional overload for a woman who had shut herself off from any kind of emotional connection for over a decade.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Goodnight, Killian."

She cut him off, clearly signalling that she didn't want to talk anymore, that the heavy conversation in the darkness of their bedroom had become too much. He conceded, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest and the heavy feeling in his stomach as she turned away.

"Goodnight, Emma."

CS

AN: Many millions of thanks to Irene for being the best soundboard, bff and editor ever, and to Victoria for being an incredible motivator and cheerleader with all the kind words, encouragement and support.

Also thanks to every single one of you who reads and reviews on here or AO3/tweets me/tumblr messages me etc about this little fic and makes my entire week with feedback. It honestly does mean a whole lot to me, and I appreciate you taking the time and effort to do that.

I promise this whole thing won't be gratuitous angst, and I always deliver payoff for those who survive my angst-fest chapters! There are plenty twists and turns to come, more developments with the case, more Daddy David and Will Scarlet appearances and just more...everything, really!