"So, I believe you've already asked about when I arrived," Emma began, as she fell into stride beside Killian while they made their way along the quiet streets of Peillon, "But I don't think we've ever spoken about when you're leaving."
"That's true," he agreed, because while the thought of discussing their leaving dates had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, Killian had always dismissed it. He didn't have long left of his own vacation, and he didn't want to spend it dreading the day Emma would leave. He'd much rather just continue enjoying each day as they came until he woke up one morning and found that she wasn't having breakfast at the café.
"So… when are you flying back to… wherever it is that you live in America?"
Killian snorted out a laugh as they took a sharp turn left to head towards the chapel in the village. "New York," he told her. "I live in New York City. The greatest city in the world."
"I think there are plenty of other cities around the world that would disagree with that."
"You've never been before?" he asked, slowing his stride to turn and look at her a little better.
"Nope. This is, um - this is actually my first time leaving the country," she admitted. "Growing up in the system doesn't really leave you with many opportunities for international holidays."
"I'm sorry," Killian offered, because he hadn't meant to touch on bad memories for her, and certainly not so early in the morning.
"Don't be," she assured him. "I wasn't missing an experience I'd never had before, and now that I've had this small taste of what the rest of the world has to offer, I can guarantee I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it."
"I don't blame you for that at all," he told her, moving in a little closer to gently bump his shoulder against her own. "I was fortunate enough to travel when I was younger, but since I graduated from college, it's become such a passion of mine. Any chance I can get, I'll hop on a plane and fly somewhere else. I don't care if it's somewhere I've been before or if it's somewhere new. I just love to travel."
"You know, you're not really selling New York as the 'greatest city in the world,' if you're so eager to get away from it," Emma teased.
"Well, when you finally make it over there, I'll just have to prove how great it is."
Killian hadn't intended to word his rebuttal like an offer, but now that it was out in the world, he had no idea how to take it back. So instead, he turned around to face the street they were walking down and prayed like hell that Emma wouldn't think he wasn't being too forward or too creepy.
"Maybe I'll take you up on that someday," she said instead, and Killian couldn't help but hope that she would. "You'll have to give me a list of some of your favorite places to visit before I leave," she added. Then, she stopped moving suddenly and pivoted on the balls of her feet. "But don't think I haven't noticed the way you've avoided my question."
"I believe you were the one who got distracted there," he threw back at her.
"Stop stalling and answer the damned question," she chuckled, fitting her hands to her hips.
Killian's eyes flicked down her body to follow her movement. Emma's shirt had bunched up a little while she'd been walking, and he noticed once again that there was some sort of black mark against her right hip. Before he could give it much more thought, he wrenched his gaze away from it and lifted his head to meet her eyes.
"Friday," he told her. "My flight home leaves on Friday afternoon."
Emma examined him carefully for a moment before she bobbed her head sharply, said, "That makes sense," and then twisted on her feet once more to continue making her way down the street.
It took Killian a moment to shake off the shock of her reaction, and by the time he did, she was already several feet ahead of him. He jogged a little to catch up to her and then reached out for her arm, gently wrapping his hand around her bicep so he could turn her back around to face him.
"What do you mean, 'that makes sense?'" he demanded.
"Well, I assume you need to be back at work on Monday," Emma explained patiently, almost like she was explaining to a toddler that one plus one equaled two. "So it makes more sense to leave on Friday and use the weekend to get back into some sort of routine than it would to leave on Sunday and go into work hugely jet-lagged."
"Oh," he said, because he suddenly felt stupid for the way he'd reacted to her comment. Of course, that made sense. It was exactly why he'd booked the return flight for that afternoon.
Emma didn't call him out on his strange behavior, for which he was grateful, but she did say, "There is one thing I'm wondering about though."
"And what's that?" he asked, as he fell into step beside her once more.
"New York is a pretty big place, right?"
"Yeah," he agreed distractedly.
"So… I assume you're not working for a small news company if you're covering politics in a city that big?"
Killian stopped moving again, and this time, Emma stopped with him. He hadn't realized just how much of himself he'd given away since she had made her entrance into his life. Maybe it was because he simply wasn't used to it. Most people back home already knew who he was before they introduced themselves. They already had some sort of preconceived notion about what kind of person he was, based on what they'd seen of him on tv, so he didn't need to be careful about how much he told them. But with Emma, everything was different. If she knew who he was, she was certainly playing ignorant well. And while a part of him didn't think that she would judge him for who he was and what he did, he still wasn't entirely sure he was ready to take that risk.
"You're right," he finally admitted, because she was far too intelligent to believe any bullshit excuse he could come up with to explain away her question. "I work for a large global news corporation."
"I figured as much," she confessed.
"I'm not ashamed of my job," he told her, because he absolutely wasn't. "I'm not ashamed of the work I do. I just - most people who meet me think they already know me because of it. They have all these ideas about me because of what they read online or see on tv. For some of those people, those beliefs they hold aren't entirely flattering. I mean, it's a slow week at the office if I only get one death threat a day."
Emma turned towards him and asked, horrorstruck, "You get sent death threats on a daily basis?" and Killian suddenly wished that they weren't standing in the middle of the street for this particular conversation.
"It's nothing," he explained, waving away her concern. "I don't see them. The security staff at the office takes care of all that. I just see the reports that come through about them."
"But… why would anyone send you death threats?" she pressed, looking genuinely confused by the idea.
"All kinds of reasons," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "Some people think we pay too much attention to certain stories and not enough to others. Some people think we're too biased to one side and not giving the other a fair chance. Some people think we're deliberately ignoring stories that have no basis in fact. Some people just genuinely don't like me. Everyone in the industry goes through it, Emma. It's nothing to worry about."
"You, uh… you didn't think I'd be like that, did you?" she asked, and Killian's heart ached a little at that wounded look behind her eyes.
"No! No, of course not," he rushed to assure her. His hand twitched at his side, longing to reach out for her own, and Killian locked down every muscle in his body to keep it in check.
"I, uh… I guess I didn't want to tell you who I was – what I do – because it was nice to finally have someone in my life who could actually get to know me – the real me – and not what they saw of me on the news every night. I've been in this business for so long there aren't many people like that around me anymore."
"I understand that," Emma told him. "As someone who's never really had anyone care enough to get to know the real me, I can understand that desire to find someone who does. I won't pry anymore if you don't want me to, Killian. But for the record, you could have just refused to answer any of my questions. We haven't known each other long. I wouldn't have taken it personally."
"Some people would have," he argued, and Emma nodded her head in agreement.
"Oh, yeah, they definitely would," she chuckled. "People can be utter bastards at times. But I'd like to think that I'm not one of those kinds of people."
"You're not," Killian assured her, because he was absolutely certain of that. "I don't think you're quite like anyone I've ever met before," he continued honestly.
"I hope that's a compliment," Emma chuckled, as she turned away from him once more to begin walking towards the chapel that was suddenly looming in front of them.
"Definitely a compliment. I wish more people in my life were like you, Emma."
"No, you don't," she giggled. "If they were, I'd be incredibly boring, don't ya think?"
Killian snorted out a laugh as he considered her words. "You know, I don't think I can imagine any universe where you might be described as boring."
Emma turned to look at him over her shoulder and offered him a flirtatious smile. "Thanks," she said, "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."
Killian giggled along with her as he shook his head fondly. She really wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before, and for that reason alone, he knew he'd never be able to let her go when Friday afternoon came around. Even if it was only agreeing to meet somewhere in the world at some pre-arranged time and place, Killian knew he had to find a way to see Emma again.
"We're almost here," she muttered distractedly, as she easily navigated the slightly busier streets to head towards their desired location. "I have a feeling you're gonna love the artwork inside this place. You look like the kinda guy who would come to a place like this and admire the artwork."
"Hey!" Killian protested, while she shot another cheeky smirk over her shoulder, "or, maybe… thank you? I can't decide if that was a compliment or an insult."
"Take it whatever way you'd like," Emma chuckled, as she practically danced across the street to finally stop in front of the small chapel. "This is it. It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is," Killian agreed, because the small building was well kept and looked absolutely stunning with Emma standing outside of it, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.
He pulled his camera from his bag and fiddled with the lens cap for a moment before he began snapping images of the building. He'd taken a few on his first day in the village to show his mother when he got home, so this time, he took a few more with Emma standing outside, staring up at the building behind her, for his own collection of memories.
"You know, I kinda feel like if you're taking pictures of me, we should at least be taking one together," she called out suddenly, and Killian froze at having been caught in the act.
"Huh?"
Emma giggled at the look on his face and then beckoned him over to her. "Here, stand just there," she said, taking hold of his wrist to gently pull him over to where she wanted him. When she was finished, she stepped in front of him then pulled her phone from her back pocket. "You've heard of a selfie, right?" she asked, before tacking on, "I mean, you're not that old."
"Oi! Less of the old," Killian protested, digging his fingers briefly into her side in retaliation.
Emma shrieked a little at the feel and jumped out of his way before shooting him a stern look that said, behave!
Killian had to bite down hard on his bottom lip and count backward from fifty to force himself to follow her instructions. When he finally nodded his agreement to her warning, she moved back to her original position in front of him and then pulled up the camera app on her phone.
"You might need to drop your head a little," she instructed, and Killian bent his knees slightly to make it look like his head was perched just on top of her shoulder.
"Perfect," Emma declared. "Now… smile."
That wasn't hard to do. Killian couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun with someone he'd only known for a handful of days.
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