Killian couldn't sleep that night. His mind kept replaying Emma's words to him, and he could swear that his lips were still tingling from her kiss. But perhaps the most infuriating part was that he couldn't seem to decide if she'd been trying to tell him that she wanted their time together to be a date, or if she'd just been letting him down gently. The back and forth taking place inside his mind was slowly driving him insane.
As soon as the first strains of birdsong reached his ears, Killian threw off his sheets and pulled himself out of bed. He needed to blow off some steam before he saw Emma again, and without access to a gym, he knew that he needed to get out and run off the agitation that was beginning to make his skin hum.
After pulling on a clean t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and his running shoes, Killian grabbed his phone, plugged in his headphones, and turned on his favorite playlist. He made a quick stop in the kitchen for a bottle of cold water and then grabbed the keys for both the house and the car, slipped them into his pockets, and took off.
The first place Killian headed was down to the small parking lot on the very edge of the village so that he could drop off the keys to his rental. Unfortunately, his run down to it took much less time than he would have liked, and by the time he came to a stop beside the vehicle, he knew he would still have a good twenty minutes to kill before the agents returned to collect the car. Killian dropped down onto a small grassy area with a huff and lowered himself back until he was lying flat. With his eyes closed, he allowed the music in his playlist to take over, pushing away all thoughts of dates and hand-holding and kisses as the sun gently warmed his skin. He only opened his eyes again when the bell at the chapel tolled six times to announce the hour, and a few seconds later, he spotted the rental agents pulling into the parking lot. Killian handed the keys over with another thanks, restarted his playlist, then jogged his way back up to the village.
He was pretty sure he saw more of Peillon that morning than he ever had before. Killian took his time weaving up and down the narrow streets, noting the different little stores and restaurants hidden between homes as all of the stress and anxiety of the morning finally began to melt away.
By the time he came to a stop just outside of the small café he'd been visiting all week, Killian's mind was clearer, and his breathing was coming harder. He collapsed into the chair he'd been claiming as his own all week and closed his eyes as he took a moment just to catch his breath. When he opened them once again, a glass of cold orange juice was sitting in front of him, along with a breakfast menu.
"Thank you, Carlos," he called out, as he removed his headphones and stopped his music.
"You're welcome," came Carlos's reply from just inside the building, and Killian smiled to himself.
Even without the addition of Emma to his week, he was pretty sure he'd have classed this vacation as one of the best of his life. There was just something about the charming little village and the people who lived there that had totally captured his heart.
Killian treated himself to a breakfast of bacon and pancakes while making small talk with Carlos, who was happy to provide him with more information about the place he was visiting. Carlos had been born and raised in the village, but his parents had moved to France just after they had married. It had always been his father's dream to own a restaurant, and when he'd seen the property for sale online, he'd quickly fallen in love with Peillon. While Carlos had grown up living in a village that didn't have roads wide enough for cars, it had been a bit of an adjustment for his parents to make – but it was a feature of their home they now loved the most, and one that Killian had grown to appreciate. Peillon had a kind of serene silence that you simply couldn't find in a place as busy as New York City.
When he'd finished his breakfast, Killian said a temporary goodbye to Carlos and his father; before walking home to shower and change. He still had a couple of hours to kill before he would need to meet Emma, so he grabbed a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and then headed back upstairs. After making himself comfortable on the balcony, Killian opened up his laptop to plot out more of his memoirs.
At quarter-to-eleven, he closed down the device with another full year of his life plotted out, and stashed it securely in the bedroom before he headed through to the bathroom to give himself a quick once-over. His hair was going to need trimming soon, and the scruff on his face was quickly developing into more of a beard than he'd ever worn before. Neither one of the issues seemed to bother Emma all that much, so he simply splashed some water onto his face and applied a little more deodorant before he headed back downstairs.
Killian grabbed a light jacket from the hanger beside the front door, pulled it open, then stepped out into another glorious French summer morning.
"So, this is where you're hiding," a familiar voice called out.
Killian completely missed the keyhole he'd been aiming for.
"Emma," he said, as he spun around to look at the woman who was lingering at the end of his garden path. "Wha… um… what are you doing here?" he asked, turning back to the door to attempt the simple process of locking it once more.
"Carlos said you'd already stopped by the café this morning for breakfast, so I thought instead of making you come back just to meet me, I'd head this way and see if I could find you."
When he'd finally managed to secure the door, Killian turned back to face her, allowing himself a brief moment to take in Emma's appearance that morning. The floral dress she'd worn in Nice was gone, and in its place was a pair of distressed denim shorts, a red tank top, and a pair of dark sneakers. The many piercings crawling up each of her ears were still in place, and their colored stone looked almost luminous in the bright morning sunshine.
"You found me," he told her, offering her a carefree shrug. "Although, something tells me that wasn't exactly hard to do."
"Not at all," she agreed, as she watched him make his approach. "There are only three holiday rentals in the village, and one of them is empty, so…"
The moment Killian was by her side, Emma pivoted on the balls of her feet to lead the way back towards the small path that would start their hike. He noticed as she did that a wicker basket was swinging from the crook of her left arm.
"Do you want me to take that?" he asked, nodding his head at the basket.
"Why? Do I look like I'm struggling?" she threw back at him, and Killian shook his head ruefully. He should have known better. His newest friend prided herself on her independence; she was not the kind of woman who would enjoy having a man step in last-minute to display some faux gesture of chivalry when she could just as easily achieve a goal herself.
"How did you sleep?" he asked instead, as they approached the edge of the forest, and he gestured for Emma to move ahead of them to begin their climb.
"Surprisingly well. Normally, I only get a couple of hours every night - and that's fine by me. I'm used to staying up late to juggle uni work with my music. But last night, as soon as I got in, I was wiped out. It must have been all of that sea air."
"Yeah, it must have been," he agreed, while internally cursing his own body for keeping him up all night. It wasn't the first time he'd gone without sleep, and he doubted it would be the last - especially with a packed election cycle ahead of him - but Killian really didn't want to spend the last few days he had with Emma yawning his head off between bouts of conversation.
"How about you?" she asked, shooting him a look over her shoulder. "Carlos said he saw you running this morning. Is that something you do every day?"
"Not normally, no. I, uh – I go the gym three times a week back home, but I was just feeling that itch to get out and run this morning."
"See, this is where eating vegetables would help," she teased. "More vegetables equals less time at the gym."
"I don't think it quite works like that," he chuckled, and Emma simply shrugged dismissively. "Besides, I like the gym," he added, because while he hadn't enjoyed going when he was younger, as he'd gotten older, Killian had truly come to appreciate the time he spent there, and the added boost it had given to his stamina.
The moment his words registered with Emma, she stopped moving so suddenly that Killian almost walked into her.
"You really are an odd man," she said after a long moment, before shaking her head fondly and continuing her climb.
"Right back at ya," he mumbled, as he tried, and failed miserably, to keep his eyes off her ass for the last twenty minutes of their hike.
When Killian finally broke through the forest and out onto the top of the mountain, it was to find Emma already sitting on a gingham blanket, leaning back on her hands and soaking up the warmth of the sun.
"What's for lunch?" he asked, throwing his jacket down onto the ground before he took a seat beside her.
"I have no idea. I just told Carlos about our plans for the day and left the details to his father."
"So this could all be junk?" Killian worried, casting a skeptical look down at the basket between them.
"Has anything you've eaten here so far been junk?"
"Good point," he conceded, relaxing a little at her words.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Killian was content to just soak up the views and the silence of the afternoon as his companion sat beside him with her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It was only when his tummy gave a small rumble that she finally peeled her eyes open to look his way.
"All that exercise this morning made you hungry, Jones?"
"Killian," he corrected automatically, because 'Jones' reminded him far too much of the handovers his colleagues used on-air, and he didn't want to think of that while he was with Emma. "And yes, actually. I'll have you know I burned plenty of calories this morning."
"You know there are other, more enjoyable ways to do that, right?" she asked, reaching for the buckles on the basket.
It took Killian's brain an embarrassingly long amount of time to work out what she'd been trying to say, and when he did, he flushed a deep shade of red.
Emma either didn't seem to notice or didn't care. Instead, she busied herself with pulling out the lunch that Carlos and his father had packed for them to share. It seemed like the family knew them both far too well as they'd included a small bottle of white wine for Emma, and a bottle of Cola for Killian, along with an array of sandwiches, chips, pastries, and fruit.
"So, you're back at work on Monday?" Emma wondered, as she finished unwrapping everything and then moved the basket to rest behind her.
"Yeah. I, uh – my show airs weeknights at eight," Killian explained, as he watched her tuck into the first of many sandwiches.
"Do you have to arrive much earlier in the day?" she asked, when she'd finally swallowed it down.
"Sometimes. I usually get there at around five every night. That way, I can review all of the top stories for the day and then sit down with a writer to get everything penned out. The guys that work the prompter usually ask for that around an hour in advance so they can make sure we're set and ready to go. We check in with the different correspondents around the globe and make sure they know what they're doing and how long they have, then we do a quick run-through before we go live. Some days I come in earlier to shoot segments with guests who can't or won't be available after eight, and some days I come in early, do all of the prep, and then end up scrapping it all because something else is happening that needs our attention."
"I don't know how you do it," Emma praised. "The best thing about music is how familiar it becomes. I know that stuff forward and backward. I rehearse it so much that I know I'm not gonna make a fool of myself when I perform it. I couldn't imagine putting hours of work into a show only to find out minutes before that it needs to be completely scrapped and free-styled because something bad was going on in the world."
"I think that's what I like best about my job," Killian mused. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy writing my own show and getting to deliver it. I pick the topics that I think are the most important or the most interesting to cover. But there's something about the energy that comes from breaking news that thrills me. Unfortunately, it's usually breaking news for all of the wrong reasons, and I'm not gonna lie, some of those stories I've covered before are soul-destroying, but the ones that aren't – those are my favorite kind of news days."
"How do you deal with it all?" Emma asked, as she reached for a handful of chips. "I try and read the news at least once a day, but the ratio of good to bad is heavily skewed towards the bad. How do you deal with not just reading that every day but having to deliver that information too?"
"It's not easy," he agreed. "I've seen many good anchors come and go because they just can't handle the weight of it all on a daily basis. But I, uh – I try and tell myself that even if it is bad news, it's important news. It's a topic, or policy, or event that the world needs to know about. It's something that can't just be swept under the rug - and that keeps me going. I'm sure some people would argue it's not for the greater good, but it kinda feels like it is when you're up there, behind that desk, delivering that news."
"I get that. And for what it's worth, I think it is for the greater good. You're right - we can't just sweep these things under the rug and hope they go away. History has taught us all the hard way that it simply doesn't work like that, so it's important for people to be as informed as they can be. Journalists fulfill an important role in that respect."
"Thanks," he said, offering her a small shy smile. Nobody else had ever really gotten that before. All of his friends in the entertainment industry felt like he was simply performing a role – just like they often did. It was only his mother and fellow ATSL anchors who seemed to really understand the calling a journalist felt.
"What about you?" he eventually asked, as he skipped over the bowl of assorted fruit in favor of the plate full of sweet pastries. "You said you perform your music. Does that happen often? Do you enjoy it?"
Emma chuckled a little as she drew nonsensical patterns into the blanket before raising her head to meet his gaze. "Not as often as I'd like, but yeah, I enjoy it. At first, it was a little terrifying. I was so scared nobody would show up, and then, when they did, I was worried they'd boo me off the stage. The more I performed, the easier it became. I've never quite managed to perfect the whole 'pretend they don't exist' thing so many people do when they get on a stage to perform, but honestly, I think it's better that way. There's something about the energy you get on stage when you're performing that you simply don't get without a crowd to engage with. I'd play to an audience of the toughest critics every day over an empty room."
"I'd, uh… I'd love to hear you play one day," Killian said, because he could truly understand that passion she had for music, even if he'd never felt it himself. Hearing her talk about the thing she loved most was like listening to himself speak about his work. He knew better than most just how much a person could flourish when they had someone by their side, truly encouraging their love and devotion to follow their passion.
"Keep playing your cards right, and maybe you will," she told him, as a small smile brightened her face.
Killian thought that smile was one of the most beautiful things in the world. It was no wonder the day seemed to be darkening in comparison to it.
When the first drop of rain hit the back of his hand, it startled Killian out of his reverie. He looked down and watched as another large drop of water landed just a few centimeters from the first.
"Shit!" Emma cursed, and his eyes flew up to watch as she began gathering up what was left of their lunch, quickly stuffing it back into the wicker basket.
Emma's flurry of activity spurred Killian into action, and he was soon helping her out, wrapping the bowl of fruit once again before he placed it into the basket and then pushed himself up to his feet. While he hunted down his jacket, he watched from the corner of his eyes as Emma gathered up the blanket and crammed it on top of their food.
"Go," Killian told her, the moment she'd finished buckling the basket. "The trees should give you some cover."
Emma looked briefly like she wanted to argue, but then she took off for the treeline at a jog. Killian watched as she paused a little way inside the forest and then reached up to push her wet hair away from her face, before he snatched his jacket from the ground and followed after her.
"Sorry," she said, when he finally came to a stop beside her, his jeans already clinging uncomfortably to his thighs. "I checked the forecast this morning, but the chances of rain were so slight I thought it was worth taking the risk."
"Don't worry about it," Killian chuckled, "It was definitely worth the risk. Here, put this on. You're soaked." He held out his jacket in silent offering, and Emma looked at it for a long moment before she finally accepted his gesture with a small smile and a soft, "Thanks."
The rain around them was starting to come down harder now, splashing through the canopy of trees above them, which was no longer providing any kind of shelter.
"Let me go down first," Killian begged, as he carefully considered the easiest path through the forest, back down to the safety of the village. "And take it slowly."
"Okay," Emma agreed.
Killian could feel her eyes on him as he began picking his way down the mountain, one considered step at a time. With every couple of moves he made, he turned back to check on his friend, making sure she was still on her feet and was able to keep up with his slightly longer gait.
Everything seemed to be going fine until Killian heard a dull thud behind him, accompanied by Emma's cursing.
"Shit!"
"Emma! Are you okay?" he called back, concern flooding every syllable he spoke as he turned carefully to look her way.
"I'm fine. I just slipped over," she told him, attempting to brush the mud from her hands to push herself back to her feet. "Do you mind?" she eventually asked, offering him her hands when she must have realized that the ground around her was becoming too muddy for her to help herself.
"Of course not." Killian gripped them firmly and gave a gentle tug, hauling her back to her feet. Unfortunately, the moment she was standing, Emma released a hiss of pain that sent his eyes flying down her body, looking for any obvious signs of trauma.
"What is it?" he asked, when all he could find was mud and rainwater. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," she protested, waving away his concern. The first small step she tried to take ended up being her downfall, however, as her ankle gave way underneath her.
Killian watched in what felt like slow motion as her knees buckled under the pressure, and her body began to drop. His arms were already moving before he was fully aware of what was happening. He wrapped them both around her waist and pulled her tightly against his chest to keep her upright.
"I think I twisted my ankle," she explained, huffing a little as she did.
Killian considered their surroundings for a moment, then he tugged the basket from her grip, pulled back slightly, and dropped to a crouch in front of her. "Climb on," he instructed.
"Pardon me?"
"Climb on," he repeated.
"I'm not – you're not carrying me down this mountain."
"Then how else do you plan on getting down it?" he demanded, in absolutely no mood for an argument with his stubborn friend.
"I can…"
"Hop?" he suggested, shooting a withering look over his shoulder.
"Fuck you," she threw back, when she caught the smug smile he knew was playing at the edges of his lips.
"Climb on or sit here and wait. It's your choice, Emma."
She seemed to consider his request for a moment longer, during which time they both became infinitely wetter, before she finally said, "Okay," and reached for his shoulders. Killian hunkered down a little more and leaned back as she looped her arms around his neck. When he was certain that she had a firm grip, he pushed himself back up to his full height and wrapped his free hand firmly around her thigh while Emma's knees came up to rest on either side of his ribcage.
"Wow, you, uh… you didn't even wobble," she praised, her voice tickling the hair just behind his left ear.
"One of the many perks of going to the gym regularly."
"Just think of how buff you'd be if you ate vegetables too," she teased.
"You know I can leave you here, right?"
"You could – but you won't," she threw back, and Killian chuckled at the sureness of her tone. He hadn't thought it would be possible to get to know someone as quickly as Emma had come to know him, and yet, there was no doubting that she certainly understood him far better than most of the people in his life did.
Shaking those thoughts aside, Killian grumbled a little to himself as he carefully picked his way down the mountain through the pouring rain. The forest was growing ever darker around them, and it seemed to take hours to finally spot the cobbled path that would signal their exit. When he eventually broke through the trees and stepped down onto the street, Killian picked up his pace, headed back towards their holiday homes and the shelter they would offer.
"My place is closer," Emma said, as she tightened her grip around his neck. "Head there."
Killian shivered a little as the heat of her breath warmed the coldness of his wet skin.
Thankfully, it didn't take him long to get back to Emma's home, and he was soon dropping into a crouch before her front door so that she could slide off his back and down to her feet. Emma fiddled inside her bag for just a moment before she pulled out her keys, stuck them into the lock, and gave them a confident twist. The door flew open, and from his place beside her, Killian noted that the entrance hall looked very similar to his own - only hers appeared to be slightly wider.
Emma hobbled her way over the threshold, clinging to the door for support, and then turned back to face her friend.
Killian was expecting her to say goodbye. At most, he was prepared for her to make plans with him for the following day, or maybe even later that evening - if the rain eventually stopped. He wasn't expecting the words that ended up falling from her lips.
"Do you wanna come in and dry off?"
Killian floundered for a moment; the one word he wanted to utter was stuck at the very tip of his tongue, refusing to be spoken. It was only when Emma cocked a brow at him in question that he finally found enough of his voice to croak out the word, "Sure?"
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