Your Case or Mine
Chapter 9
David had to walk out of the room. The air in the small back office, currently filled with computer screens and whiteboards of scattered evidence photos and question marks, suddenly felt suffocatingly oppressive.
He had the late shift duty of manning the security cameras. And if he was being honest, he was relieved it was his turn, because it meant he could personally keep his eye on Emma and put his mind at ease that she was safe. But what he'd heard tonight, the self-loathing and hidden fears she had confessed to Killian in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, had made him feel like he'd been punched in the gut.
The hardass, no-nonsense persona she wore was simply armor. It always had been. And he'd been aware of that, aware that she had a painful past she didn't ever talk about. He'd never pushed her to. But he hadn't realized quite how terribly she'd had her heart broken, or how deeply her scars ran.
He may have been close to her, and one of the few people in her life who had always believed in her, but she'd never confided in him about the pain that had clearly been simmering just below the surface for all the years he'd know her. And he felt as though somehow he'd failed her, if she hadn't felt able to come to him about something that was weighing so heavily.
He'd broken his pen from clenching it so hard as he'd listened to her broken whispers interspersed with almost-silent sobs. He watched her lying there, the camera's night mode allowing him to see her eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling and clutched the blanket, with Killian turning on his side to look at her.
Yes, David still hated the fact that Killian was sleeping beside Emma each night now, decidedly-paternal protectiveness rearing its head. But he also felt a surge of something akin to pride when he heard the man ripping Neal apart and telling Emma with fierce conviction and unwavering earnestness just how he saw her, trying to make her understand that she was special and worth so much more than Neal had ever let her believe.
He'd stepped outside to get some air, musing about how he suddenly understood some of his fellow officers' preferences for lighting up a cigarette during stressful cases. As he closed his eyes and leaned back against the rough brick wall of the quiet building, only a few people coming and going now that most were either long gone for the day or on a late patrol, he heard a soft voice calling out to him. A voice that always, no matter what, could make his worst days that little bit brighter.
"You've got that brooding cop thing going on, and I can't help but find it ridiculously sexy."
His wife was smiling at him, walking slowly up the steps with a large tupperware box in her hands. He felt his weariness ebb away marginally as he grinned and stepped towards her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a tight hug.
She mumbled about the tupperware - she'd brought him dinner in case he got hungry on his late shift - but hugged him back with one arm before pulling back and looking up at him with mild concern.
"Is everything okay, honey?"
She asked softly, a slight frown creasing her forehead. He sighed, running a hand over his face and canting his head toward the building.
"I'll tell you about it inside."
"Is Emma okay?"
"Yeah, she's...safe, at least. I don't know about okay. I'm not sure she's ever been okay."
He said cryptically, an edge to his town that had Mary Margaret's frown deepening. She'd gotten to know Emma over the years, and despite being not that much older than the young detective, she found David's protective instinct rubbing off on her. As an elementary school teacher, she was already 'chronically maternal', or that's the way Emma had described her at least.
Emma had joined David's department a few weeks before Christmas and, after hearing that the teenager had no family to speak of, Mary Margaret had insisted on her joining them for the holidays that year. She'd reluctantly accepted (mostly because Mary Margaret hadn't really given her a choice) and she had awkwardly sat through her first 'family Christmas dinner' ever. It had become somewhat of a tradition after that, and their little misfit group now spent every holiday together.
"What's going on, David?"
She asked again, once they reached the office, and David led her silently through to the makeshift security den. Mary Margaret's eyes scanned the screens, stopping on the screen that now showed Emma and Killian sleeping, facing away from each other.
"Oh, David. If you're feeling all protective because-"
"It's not about that. Though I'm still not a fan of her being forced to sleep next to a guy she barely even knows," he sighed, shaking his head, "They were talking before. Or rather, she was talking. About Neal. And about how badly he hurt her; how she still hurts because of him. And she blames herself for that."
Mary Margaret looked stricken, placing the tupperware down on the table and reaching for her husband even as her eyes flickered over her sleeping friend's form on the screen.
"Oh, Emma…"
She said softly. She knew very little about Neal, and Emma had always closed up pretty quickly anytime she'd offhandedly mentioned something about him. She hadn't disclosed much over the years, other than that he'd broken her heart and abandoned her. They'd only just found out about the pregnancy and subsequent adoption recently, though they had known he'd set her up and she'd had a brief stint in prison because of him too. David had, after all, worked hard to get her hired at the station despite the criminal record.
"She bumped into him. Neal, I mean. At the grocery store. I just listened to her pour her heart out to Killian about how broken she is and I just...God, Mary Margaret, she's been hurting this whole time and I never even knew it."
He slammed his hand down on the desk, the wood shuddering and creaking with his outburst of frustration. Mary Margaret gently put her own hand over his fist, squeezing reassuringly before lifting it to cup his cheek.
"David. Don't beat yourself up over this. I know you care about Emma; I do too. And I know this whole undercover operation, sending her out to bait some murderer, isn't sitting well with you. Because you're a protector in that big heart of yours, and she's always gonna be that wary, mistrustful little kid with a black eye and a mean right hook who you want to take care of. But she's a strong, brave woman, and you have to trust that she can handle all of this."
David pulled his wife into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and murmuring his thanks. She could always soothe his worries with a gentle voice and tender touches, He may not be able to truly rest easy until Emma returned home from her undercover vacation, but Mary Margaret was right. He had to trust she could handle it, and with Killian by her side, he thought that maybe her burden might just be that little bit easier to carry.
"She opened up to him. To Killian."
Mary Margaret lifted her head to glance over at the screen again. Emma had turned over and was facing Killian, while he lay on his back now, both lost in slumber. She smiled and met David's gaze.
"That's a good sign, honey. We both know how hard she finds it to connect with people...if she's opened up to him, maybe there's something more there. And that's just what she needs. She's been alone the entire time we've known her…"
David scowled at the screens, unable to argue with the points his wife was making. He sighed, shaking his head.
"I don't want her to get hurt and shut herself off even more because of it. And all of this," he gestured to the screens, "It's not real, and I don't want her to end up invested in someone who's got a deadline here. Jones is going to go back to Virginia after we close the case...and from what Emma said before, I don't know if her heart can take anyone else breaking it."
He closed his eyes, holding Mary Margaret that little bit tighter.
"You just have to trust her, like I said. I know it's hard when you just want to protect her, but if she lets Killian in...then I imagine she'll be going into it with her eyes wide open. She isn't one for letting anyone get close to her easily. Look how long it took her to warm up to Will, and that was just as a partner, not romantically. She's guarded and she keeps people at arm's length. If Killian chips away at her walls and shows her that she is capable of feeling something, it'll be good for her. But you can bet she'll spend plenty time deciding whether to make that choice first."
David watched Emma twist and turn in bed on the screen, moving closer to Killian and seemingly seeking out his warmth in her sleep. He grimaced slightly and averted his eyes, somehow feeling like he was invading her privacy by doing his job and watching over them. He knew his wife was probably right too, but it still felt like he was helplessly watching Emma tentatively take steps onto a ship he knew was only going to sink. And there was nothing he could do about it, other than to hope she'd be able to swim.
CS
It had happened again.
For the second time, Emma was waking up in Killian's arms. This time, he was spooning her, but they were decidedly on his side of the bed. Meaning she'd likely been the one to initiate their unconscious cuddling. His right arm was stretched out under her head, which was once again pillowed on his shoulder, and she could feel the solid heat of him pressed against her from thigh to chest. His left arm rested across her waist, hand against the flat expanse of her bare stomach where her sleep shirt had ridden up, and she squeezed her eyes shut again as she tried to fight back a wave of unwelcome warmth that accompanied the sudden awareness of his touch.
Even though she was sure he was still sleeping, if his soft snores were anything to go by, there was one area of his anatomy that was most definitely very awake, and Emma felt her cheeks blaze with the realization of exactly what was pressed firmly against her ass. It wasn't like she didn't know what he was packing. She'd been intimately acquainted with him, like she could ever forget.
But that was different. He was a nameless stranger then; a body for her to use and enjoy. Now...well, now, she didn't know what the hell he was. A co-worker, sure. A friend, maybe? Something more...she was really trying not to let her mind go there.
He mumbled in his sleep then, shifting and sighing into her hair, nuzzling into her neck from behind before settling once more. Emma was holding her breath, her whole body frozen and shivers running up her spine from his actions. But it wasn't fear she felt bubbling up this time. It was frustration, and anger. Anger at herself, for her body's inability to stay the hell away even when she could reel off at least half a dozen reasons why she shouldn't want him the way she did. Why she couldn't do this.
Throwing his arm off her, and startling him awake in the process, Emma bolted from the bed and headed for the door, hoping they still had some beer left in the refrigerator, if not something stronger sitting in one of the cupboards. It was barely 3am, but she knew she'd never fall back to sleep without the aid of something vaguely alcoholic to numb her senses.
Thanking whatever deities she could think of when she found a bottle of unopened rum in one of the cupboards - presuming Killian to have brought it with him - she grabbed it along with a glass and poured herself a healthy measure.
"Pour me one as well, love."
Killian appeared in the doorway, looking unfairly attractive with his hair all mussed, sticking up at odd angles. His voice was husky with sleep, and she tried to ignore the stab of want it caused to reverberate across every nerve ending in her damn body. He padded over to the island and perched on a breakfast stool, no shirt on and with his sleep pants sitting low on his hips, tempting her gaze with the smattering of chest hair leading down to his happy trail that disappeared into his pants. He was just unfair.
She chewed on her bottom lip and assessed him for a long moment before turning and grabbing a second glass, matching his measure of rum to her own and pushing it towards him without a word.
He threw back the rum and winced as he swallowed it down, unprepared for the rich assault on his tastebuds so soon after waking. The heat from the rum immediately warmed him though, and had him reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.
Emma was watching him carefully, that familiar guarded expression on her face as she nursed her drink, sipping at it cautiously and remaining silent. He sighed.
"Do you wish for me to take one of the other bedrooms? Because I will, just say the word. You're clearly uncomfortable-"
"I don't trust myself around you."
She cut him off with quiet words, and it wasn't what he'd been expecting. He'd anticipated frustration and accusation in her tone, her fear of what seemed to be blossoming out of their control presenting itself through anger. They both knew full well that the intimacy they seemed to have found themselves sharing was no one's fault though. Her anger was a smoke screen; her way of venting her panic at the lack of control she had in a situation she was anything but comfortable in.
But he didn't get her anger. He got a quiet confession instead, and he could hear the fear laced around each word, despite the fact that her voice was barely above a whisper. The air of the early hours was still and a little oppressive around them, deafeningly silent as they watched each other from opposite sides of the kitchen island.
"You don't...trust yourself around me?"
He repeated slowly, unsure of how to properly respond to such an admission. He never felt like he was on an even footing when it came to Emma Swan. He'd never met anyone quite like her, but the situation they were currently in wasn't an ideal one for exploring newfound feelings.
Emma sighed, foregoing her tentative sips of her drink now and choosing instead to throw it back, mirroring his reaction from when he'd done the same, before placing the empty glass next to the bottle. She turned away from him then, her shoulders sagging as she braced both hands on the counter. He supposed she found it easier to talk when she wasn't looking at him.
"I don't do relationships. Like I said. But you...ever since that first night, the only night we were supposed to have, you were in my damn head. Under my skin. You make me feel...off balance. I mean, I didn't even stop for one second and think about condoms or anything when I went back to your hotel with you. And that's not me-"
"Emma, you're not-"
"Christ, I'm not a complete idiot, Jones. I have an IUD. But I don't make a habit of sleeping with someone I've just met without making damn sure I'm protected on all bases. Except with you...I just...it didn't even cross my mind, because I was so caught up in everything. In you. And then the next day you were suddenly there a-and now we're here, and I...I try to ignore it, to fight it, and what happens? I keep waking up in your arms. I don't want that...or I don't want to want that. But my body has other ideas and I just...I just want it to stop. I want to go back to one nighters being enough."
Her voice cracked and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, refusing to cry despite her frustration. Words weren't really her forté. She was more of an action girl. So trying to explain herself, to explain feelings especially, was not her strong suit.
The silence that sat between them then didn't help. He seemed to be weighing up her words and she fought the urge to look back over her shoulder at him, to gauge his reaction. But she remained still, waiting through silent seconds that stretched out painfully.
"You're under my skin too," he finally said, his voice cautious, "And I know the timing is bad, and that getting distracted by all of...this," she knew he was gesturing between them without even looking, "could screw things up with the case. But neither of us knew this was going to happen when we met at the pub that night. And Emma...I don't regret it. I don't regret what we did, not for a single second. I just regret the timing. Because I want you. I want more than one night. But I'm not foolish enough to think that playing house with you is going to make you want the same."
Her hands were shaking, and she clenched them into fists quickly, trying to get her pounding heart under control. He was laying his heart out for her, and all her brain could do was scream "no!" at her repeatedly. But she didn't want to hurt him, and she knew she'd already been pretty difficult to deal with, even after only two days of living together. So she consciously slowed her breathing down and squashed the rising panic threatening to make her bolt, and turned to face him.
"You're right...I-I...don't want the same," she saw him swallow thickly, dropping his gaze to the glass of amber liquid remaining in his glass and fighting to keep his expression passive, "Because you scare the shit out of me. Or, I guess...what you make me feel scares the shit out of me. All of this, playing house as you called it...it's completely foreign to me. I've never had a family or a proper relationship, Killian. I've never known what a normal, healthy relationship looks like. But this is, what, our third little heart-to-heart in two days? I don't do opening up to people, and yet you make this whole this thing, being with you like this, feel like it could be so easy. And that makes me wanna get as far away from you as possible."
Killian remained quiet, and Emma half expected to see pity in his eyes. Pity for the fucked up mess of a human she was, as he wondered what on earth he saw in her. But there was no such thing. Instead, all she saw was contemplative understanding and open curiosity. She wasn't scaring him off by revealing how broken she truly was.
"It could be easy, Emma. Perhaps not in the situation we're in now, but it could be. And maybe I'm a little scared too. Because I've had my heart broken before as well, though it pales in comparison to what your ex did to you. But mine is a story for another time," he grimaced, and she couldn't help but wonder about that story, "I know we have to maintain our cover, and giving in to what's between us could jeopardize that, but I don't want to scare you either. So if you'd rather I slept in one of the other bedrooms, regardless of what Graham said, then I will. Just say the word."
She hesitated before shaking her head. As much as she hated her body and her unconscious mind for betraying her the way it seemed to be doing, repeatedly, she also craved the closeness. The treasured few seconds in his arms before reality seeped back into her awareness and her fight or flight kicked in.
"No, it's okay. I can handle it. I'm...sorry for being such a bitch these last few days. I tend to...lash out, when I feel cornered. Not that you cornered me, I just mean...feelings and all that shit. I felt cornered by myself. If that even makes any sense. Oh yeah, and I don't know when to shut up when I'm nervous, if you hadn't noticed that already..."
She let out a short, shaky laugh, wrapping her arms around herself, as Killian moved from his place on the breakfast stool to round the counter and stand in front of her. She hesitated in meeting his gaze, her heart skipping as she finally lifted her head and found him smiling down at her. That small, hopeful smile that made her chest constrict slightly. Her breath hitched as he leaned in, and she froze, arms still wrapped tightly around herself. But he didn't lean in and plant one on her like she'd initially thought he was going to. Instead, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her cheek, pulling back to smile at her again as he encouraged her to release her self-protective stance with a gentle tug of her hand..
"Let's go back to bed, Swan? I promise not to cuddle you."
Emma choked out a laugh, his humor and that stupid grin he now wore immediately dissipating the tension in the room. She let him take her hand and lead her back toward the stairs, rolling her eyes at him even as the little voice in her head reminded her once again just how easy it could be to choose to be with him for real.
CS
The fourth victim was called in at 8am. A rookie cop had attended a domestic disturbance call in Winchester, just fifteen minutes from Emma and Killian's house in Lexington. Neighbors had called it in, complaining of screaming early that morning and concerned for the wellbeing of the usually-quiet and content couple who lived in the house on Edgehill Road.
The victim, thirty year old Guinevere Ruiz, had been found in the living room, with her heart ripped out just like the previous victims. This time, however, unlike the previous victims, Guinevere's husband, Arthur, had also been home, and was found in bed with a single gunshot-wound to the head.
As soon as the local police department had seen Guinevere and realized she was another victim of the "Mass Murderer", as the Massachusetts media had colloquially named the killer, despite there being victims in other states, they had immediately made a call to Graham.
David and Will followed Graham to the scene, after leaving Emma and Killian voicemails to inform them of the news. They wouldn't be able to attend the scene, but David knew they'd both want to be kept informed of any developments, especially with Emma repeatedly reminding them that it was her case.
When they arrived, they were relieved to find that the local police had been competent enough to hold off on bringing the CSIs in to process the crime scene, willingly stepping back and handing over the reins to Graham.
"So he killed a bloke too this time. That's new."
Will commented, hands on his hips, standing over the body of Guinevere and watching Graham inspect her closely before scanning the room.
"Yeah, it's new. But is it an escalation, a planned compromise or was the husband's presence unexpected? This unsub seemed to know the schedule of the previous victims and waited until their husbands were away overnight before making his move. We'll need to find out why this time was different."
"And we should prob'ly check if she gave up a kid too, right?"
Graham nodded. There were no pictures of children anywhere in the house, but there hadn't been any in the first victim's home either. He made a quick call to Belle then, to give her the victims' details so that she could go digging while they found out what they could at the scene.
Neighbors reported that Guinevere and Arthur were a well-liked couple who kept to themselves. They didn't seem to know all that much about them, other than that Guinevere was a housewife and that Arthur worked as a specialist curator of swords at the MIT Museum. It was quite clear what his speciliasm was, considering the number of swords mounted in place of artwork around the house. And none of them seemed to have been moved, suggesting the unsub hadn't utilized any of the numerous weapons on show. But they were all bagged up as evidence to test for fingerprints and blood regardless.
By the time the house had been processed for evidence, and the two victims signed over to the Coroner, Belle had called back to inform them of what she'd found. Graham put her on speakerphone, allowing Will and David to also hear her findings.
"Guinevere did give up a child for adoption, five years ago, and yes, it was the same agency as all the other victims. Arthur wasn't on the birth certificate as the father though," she told them, the clicking of her computer keys audible as she scoured through her finds, "But it gets juicier. Arthur spent a year in Europe helping to establish and curate the biggest armory collection in the world. And that was the same year Guinevere would've been pregnant…"
"D'ya reckon he knew his wife was gettin' busy with some other fella while he was away?"
Will mused, exchanging glances with David and Graham.
"Well, it was a closed adoption and only Guinevere signed the papers. I got in touch with Ms. Mills and she had someone drive over here with the file right away. It was in the list of files that originally went missing."
"So, chances are, the unsub made a hit list using those files before they were returned. We need to speak to Robert Gold," Graham pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed, "He's a chairman of the group home's board, and a big-time donor, and he was also the one who had the files returned. He has the access he'd need, we just need to find a motive, so we need to bring him in for a voluntary interview. He's our number one suspect right now, but we don't have enough hard evidence to charge him with anything yet."
David nodded in agreement, but he was frowning, something just not sitting right.
"Gold is notoriously one for avoiding getting his own hands dirty though, which is why no one has been able to touch him so far, despite the fact that we know he's been involved in criminal activity for years now. He's always been meticulous at covering his tracks before, leaving circumstantial evidence at best. Certainly not enough to make any kind of conviction stick. What's different this time?"
"Well, if it's personal, maybe emotions and all that made him sloppy," Will suggested with a shrug. "It's nowt like the fraud and drug cases he's been linked to, so if this is summat personal, per'aps he let his emotions get in the way."
Graham considered Will for a moment. They couldn't rule out anything before they'd even interviewed Robert Gold, but he found it hard to believe the man could ever be capable of being 'sloppy' when it came to covering his tracks.
"I'm not sure Gold has the ability to experience emotions," Graham commented sourly, "But we'll bring him in and see what he's got to say for himself. We can't overlook the blatant connections to him, and despite how clever and calculating he can be, who knows, he might slip up and reveal a little too much."
"Let's hope so. Though I can't see him showing up without a lawyer, or volunteering much information willingly," David exchanged a look with Graham and sighed, "When we get back to the station I'll give Emma a call. She'll want to know everything we know so far."
"Yes, and we need to compile a list of couples from the previously missing files, because all of them are potential victims. Will, can you get onto that?" Will nodded solemnly, "We also need to get Emma and Killian out in public as soon as possible, playing up that happy couple angle and potentially distracting the unsub from their hit list. Mention that when you're updating them on the newest victims. And I'll check in with Regina on whether or not there's been any moves on their file at the group home."
The trio headed for their cars, the pressure to catch the killer weighing heavily on all of them. Despite the relief David felt knowing that Emma was safe thus far, he knew that wasn't the purpose of their mission. And with the number of victims having risen by two overnight, grabbing the killer's attention more forcefully in an attempt to distract him from his list would now have to be Emma and Killian's main priority.
CS
This one was a little bit shorter than usual, just moving the plot along a little with some more focus on the case!
Thanks once again to Irene & Victoria for the ongoing cheerleading and encouragement, and to Randee, Krystal & Sophie for the flailing reviews after each chapter. You guys all keep me going. My muse thanks you endlessly.