For what felt like the first time in forever, Emma woke slowly the next morning, feeling warm and relaxed. She took her time, allowing awareness to gradually return, enjoying that precious feeling of safety and security that seemed to be blanketing her. In her relaxed state, it took a moment for her to realize that the pillow under her cheek wasn't actually a pillow at all - it was a chest rhythmically moving up and down with each breath it took.
Flashes from the night before filled her mind. A heavy leather jacket in her hands, being pushed from broad shoulders. Gentle fingertips pressed into her skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. Whisper-soft kisses peppered across her body, making her feel precious and cherished in a way she'd never experienced before.
Emma's breath caught in her throat when she felt careful fingers brush softly over her hair. She slowly tilted her head back - and found Special Agent Jones looking down at her.
"You stayed."
"I said I would," he explained, and Emma nodded her head slowly as memories of that conversation returned to her.
"I guess I just didn't think you would," she mumbled, turning her head away to stare at the empty fireplace opposite them.
Killian said nothing, but after a brief pause, his hand resumed its movements through her hair.
"I slept well last night," Emma mused, as she began drawing her fingertips down his chest, swirling them back and forth through the dusting of dark hair there. "Really well, actually."
"Good. I'm glad you did. You needed it."
Emma hummed her agreement, but she didn't say anything else. Telling him she felt safe and cared for in his arms seemed childish. She was an adult, after all. She should be able to fall asleep in her own home.
With Killian's fingers still gently pulling through her hair and the silence in the house, Emma felt like she could easily drift back to sleep. It was the most relaxed she'd been since that first box had shown up on her doorstep, and she wanted to cling to that feeling for as long as she possibly could.
Eventually, Killian began to shift slightly underneath her, and Emma knew their peaceful morning was coming to an end.
"I, uh – I should probably take a shower," she declared, sitting up to give him some space to move. As she did, Emma reached for the fabric that had been covering her and realized with a start that she'd been buried under Killian's leather jacket. It was the only piece of clothing that had kept either of them covered overnight.
"You'll, uh – you'll still be here when I finish, right?" she asked, looking down at the man stretched awkwardly across her sofa.
"I'll still be here," he promised, and as she stared into his eyes, Emma found herself believing every word he spoke.
She held his gaze for a moment longer before dipping her head to brush her lips against his, then carefully slipped from the sofa.
Killian turned his head to give Emma a moment of privacy as she wrapped his jacket around her naked body, then padded her way across the living room and out into the hallway to head upstairs. He listened until her footsteps faded completely before pushing himself up to a sitting position, cringing slightly as he did. The sofa definitely hadn't been kind to his back.
After pulling on his briefs, jeans, and t-shirt, Killian made his way around the room, gathering all of the liquor bottles he could find. By the time he'd finished, he was a little alarmed by the sheer weight of glass in his arms, but he did his best not to judge Emma for it. He knew better than anyone just how easily one bottle could become three when you were having a rough day, and he'd never had a day quite as rough as any that Emma was currently experiencing.
It took him a few attempts to find his way to the kitchen. Once inside, Killian emptied what was left in each of the bottles and then began searching the cupboards, looking for anything else that might have been hidden away and hoping he'd find some sort of recycling system while he was at it.
By the time Emma made her appearance in the room, Killian had found three more half-open bottles of Vodka, which he emptied down the drain, and all of the glass bottles had been tossed into the large recycling can, standing inside what appeared to be one of the tidiest mud rooms he'd ever seen.
Emma made her way quietly around the breakfast bar, and Killian didn't hesitate to lift his arm so she could cuddle into his side.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, pressing a kiss to her damp hair.
She still didn't look anywhere near as healthy and glamorous as she did in the posters Ellie had on her bedroom walls, but she looked a hell of a lot better after getting a good night of sleep.
Emma shrugged her shoulders but didn't offer any more explanation.
"Do you want some coffee?" he tried instead. "I think I can make this fancy thing work."
Emma snorted out a small laugh as she used her hip to bump him down the counter slightly, and then set to work preparing the machine while Killian searched the cupboards for mugs. They worked together in silence, preparing each beverage to their own taste before taking a seat opposite one another at the breakfast bar.
Emma was halfway through her coffee when Killian began shifting a little on his stool. She raised her head to fix him with a look, and he offered her a somewhat bittersweet smile before he finally spoke the words she'd been expecting to hear.
"Emma, we need to talk."
"Do we have to?" she muttered childishly. "Can't we just – can't we leave it? Just for today? I just – Can't we have one day where we don't have to think about the bigger picture? Just one day!"
Killian offered her another bittersweet smile, and that was all the answer she needed.
"I'm sorry. I wish we could," he explained, "But this is important."
Emma dropped her eyes down to her coffee mug in protest, but she remained sitting where she was, ready to listen to whatever it was that Killian felt was so important it needed to ruin their moment.
When it became apparent she wasn't planning to make things easy on him, Killian released a heavy breath and said, "We need to talk about the house."
Emma's head snapped up suddenly, her startled gaze meeting his own. Clearly, that wasn't what she'd been expecting him to say.
Killian reached across the table to cover one of her hands with his own, brushing his thumb soothingly across hers as he said, "You can't stay here, Emma. It's not safe for you anymore."
"This is my home," she protested.
"I know, but you were right last night. This guy has managed to get around every precaution we've taken to try and keep you safe. Even without a key to your place, he clearly knows this area much better than any of us could have anticipated. Now that he does have a key – It's not safe for you here anymore."
"I'm not going back to that hotel. I'm not living my life as a prisoner, Killian. I won't do that."
"It's just temporary, Emma. Only until we can get you into a safe house."
"And then I'll be a prisoner in a government-owned home. No! I don't want to live my life that way. It's bad enough as it is now, but living like that – I can't do it. I won't! I – I've changed the locks here, so Ariel's key won't work anymore. And I can ask a security firm to come out and fit some new sensors and cameras and stuff too. Maybe that way, we might catch this bastard on screen. But I'm not leaving my home."
Killian sighed heavily as he briefly turned his gaze down to his mug of coffee. He'd been hoping Emma would agree to a safe house now that she was thinking a little more clearly, but obviously, he'd been wrong.
"Okay. I'll tell David your plans and ask them to step up patrols around your home until you get that new security system fitted."
Emma nodded her head decisively, satisfied that she'd won the argument. But Killian wasn't done yet.
"We should also talk about your tour," he said hesitantly.
"Why? What about my tour?"
"David will likely suggest postponing it – just until this guy is behind bars. He thinks that having you out on the road and on stage every night will be like offering you up on a silver platter."
"And what about you?" Emma demanded, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. "What do you think?'
Killian took a small sip from his coffee as he considered his answer. "I think that while he's right to be concerned about the risks the tour will pose, postponing it is the wrong move to make."
Emma couldn't quite find the words she needed to express her shock, but thankfully, Killian could read every word on her face.
"You need this, Emma," he explained. "You need that chance to connect with your fans. A chance to see how much you're loved and how much you matter. You need the kind of passion and drive it will bring to your life. Personally, I think all of that more than outweighs the risks posed by continuing with it."
"Thank you," Emma croaked out, because she had been expecting his response to be a logical or logistical one – not one based on her needs and desires.
Killian nodded his head in acknowledgment, but Emma could tell from the way he shifted again in his seat that he wasn't quite done yet. She took small sips from her coffee as she waited patiently for him to find the words he needed.
"I, uh – I think we should talk about your drinking too, Emma."
"What about it?" she demanded, pulling her hand out from underneath his.
"I'm not judging you," he told her, because Killian knew better than most people just how defensive someone could get when confronted with the truth of their addiction. "I just think that maybe you'd benefit from talking to some people who understand what you're going through."
Emma cocked a brow at him in question, and he hurried to add, "Okay, maybe not exactly what you're going through, but these people know what it's like to turn to the bottom of a bottle when they're having a bad day. They know that call better than anyone else."
"I'm not an alcoholic," she said, that cold, emotionless tone from the night before returning once again.
"I'm not saying you are," Killian pacified, because he wasn't entirely sure she'd reached that point just yet. But he knew she wasn't far away from it. "I'm just saying that maybe talking to some people who understand will help before you get there, Emma. Maybe listening to their stories will help you realize that you are not alone here."
"No!" she declared firmly. "No way. I can't."
"You don't need to speak, Emma. Sometimes, just listening to others is enough."
"No, you don't understand," she told him, pushing herself to her feet to pace the length of the kitchen. "If it gets out that I'm attending… that I'm… my reputation will be ruined, Killian. There are probably journalists out there that already have 'stories' they've dug up from my past, just waiting to drop on top of a bombshell like that, so they can paint me as some sort of screw-up. I can't do that to my fans. I won't do that to them. They deserve better."
"The word anonymous is used for a reason," Killian argued.
"I can't take that chance," Emma fired back, folding her arms over her chest. "You have no idea what the press will do to dig up the kind of dirt that will earn them millions. And even if everyone in that room keeps quiet, I can't be sure someone wouldn't see me coming or going and connect the dots. I'm sorry, Killian, but no. I won't do that. I can't. Besides – I don't need that kind of help. I just – I just need you to find this guy. Just get him out of my life, and I'll be fine. I promise."
Killian couldn't tell if Emma was trying harder to convince him of that idea or herself, but he knew when to stop pushing, and his brain was busy telling him now was that time. Instead, he stood from his seat and made his way around the kitchen to fold the broken young woman into his arms.
"Okay," he whispered, as he brought a hand up to cradle her head against his chest. "You don't have to go, but I want you to remember the offer is there, Emma. I go to meetings regularly. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I trust the people that run these groups, and I trust the members attending to maintain each other's privacy. Recovery doesn't work if we don't have each other's backs. If you ever feel like you're close to the edge, I want you to call me, and we can find a meeting to attend together, okay?"
Emma nodded her head against his chest. Killian wasn't sure if she would ever make that call, but he wanted her to know the option was there. Taking that first step was always the hardest one – he knew that from personal experience. He didn't doubt that once she'd made it, Emma would soon start to see the kind of benefits regular meetings could have for people struggling with their sobriety.
The two stood in silence for a long moment, just allowing everything they'd spoken about to sink in. Eventually, Emma pulled back slightly, but only enough to lift her head and ask, "How long?"
Killian knew instantly what she was talking about.
"A little over four years," he told her, stepping back to lean against the counter behind him. He kept Emma's hands held tightly in his own, however. He needed that connection to her this morning just as much as she seemed to need it from him. "I had a, uh – I had a tough case. This guy – he was, um – he liked children," Killian explained, keeping things as vague as he possibly could. "At the end of the day, some of those images would be seared into my mind, and I would drink until I passed out just to stop seeing them every time I closed my eyes. I told myself it wasn't a problem – it was just a way of coping with everything. But even after we caught the bastard, I kept finding excuses to drown my day at the bottom of a bottle. It got so bad that I, uh – I hit my brother one night when he was trying to help me, and I broke his nose and his cheekbone. Liam didn't press charges, thankfully. Instead, he teamed up with David, and the two of them found me a rehab center. They supported my journey from the very start, and I've been sober ever since. I'm not sure I would be if they hadn't been so supportive. But it could have been much worse. I could have hit someone who wasn't my brother – someone who would have pressed charges. I could have lost my job. I could have gone to jail. There were times I could have put my team in danger. Hell, I could have even put the victims I was working with in danger. I'm just grateful David and Liam didn't let it go that far before they stepped in to help."
"I'm sorry you went through all of that," Emma offered quietly.
"Thank you. I've come to realize that it helped make me into the person I am today, but that realization doesn't make it any easier to think about the pain I caused the people I love during that time."
Emma nodded her head to show she'd heard what he said, but she wasn't sure what words of comfort she could offer to him. She'd never been in a position like that before, so she had no way of knowing how it felt to come out on the other side.
"Have you, uh – have you ever considered changing your job?" she asked instead. "I can't imagine the kind of stuff you've seen. What was in those boxes was more than enough to traumatize me for life."
"I've thought about it," Killian told her honestly. It was a detail about his recovery he'd never shared outside of meetings before. "But I've never really wanted to do anything else. The FBI has always been a dream, and to get to the level I've reached now feels incredible. As tough as it is some days, nothing beats the feeling of knowing you've taken a dangerous individual off the streets. It's a kind of rush very few other jobs could ever provide. And now that I know how to compartmentalize a little better – now that I know I don't have to shoulder it all myself – I feel more comfortable in the role than I ever have before."
Emma could see the passion and dedication burning behind Killian's eyes as he spoke. It was a feeling she recognized all too well, and it was the reason she was clinging so tightly to her upcoming tour dates. But it was also a feeling that left her a little melancholy.
"Will you really lose your job for this?" she asked, glancing down at their joined hands. "For being here with me today?"
"David's covering for me," was all Killian said.
"So, I guess that means I won't get to see you again after this?" she asked, reluctantly raising her head to meet his eyes.
The look behind Killian's gaze was conflicted. Emma could see something that looked like resolve there, but she could also see the pain she knew was likely reflected in her own eyes.
"I've been taken off your case," he explained slowly. "I've also been suspended. And my supervisor explicitly told me not to come anywhere near you ever again if I wanted to keep my job."
Emma's heart sank with every word he spoke. Clearly, they weren't meant to be together, but she couldn't help craving the comfort and easiness she'd found around Killian – especially when she had so few people in her life to turn to for that kind of support. With Ariel gone, there was really only Regina left. And something told Emma her lawyer would not be as comforting with her as Special Agent Jones had been.
Just as all hope seemed to be vanishing, Killian spoke up once more.
"I don't know if you've noticed, Emma, but I seem to have a difficult time staying away from you."
He dropped one of her hands to reach up and push the slowly-curling, damp hair away from Emma's face before he used the backs of his fingers to tenderly trace the lines of her jaw.
"I'm sure with rehearsals coming up for your tour, we could find a way to see each other again."
Emma felt her face lift into what must have been the most genuine smile she'd worn in weeks. It wasn't a promise to pick up where they had left off. It wasn't even a promise to make time for each other again. But it was more than she'd had before and it was more than she'd ever dreamed of receiving, so at that moment, it was more than enough.
"Yeah?" she asked, just to double-check she'd heard Killian correctly.
"Yeah," he agreed, leaning down to brush his lips softly over her own.