A/N: So a few things before you start this chapter: One is, though I decided I wasn't killing off any children in this story like the movie does, this fic still talks about child death and covers some uneasy topics. This chapter in particular gets very descriptive with the embalming process. It's not like the movie where Dan Aykroyd is seen with a scalpel in his hand and that's about all it shows.
I did a ton of research for this fic and while I was researching, I stumbled upon the real life Vada Sultenfuss, Eileen Hollis, who was raised in a funeral home and has a TikTok account that revolves around her life as a funeral director. So I also watched some of her videos for reference. I tried to be as accurate as possible but I'm not a mortician or funeral director so my knowledge on this subject is limited. My husband used to transport dead bodies to funeral homes, but that was several years ago and at the time I really tried not to pay attention to a lot of the details.
Anyway, I got a little carried away with the details in this chapter, and I know it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but if I had to recommend skipping a section, it would be the first part of the chapter before the section break, where it switches to Emma's POV.
Thanks for reading and for all the support and feedback so far!
FULL NAME: Marco Geppetto Booth
DATE OF DEATH: June 1st, 2021
CAUSE OF DEATH: Cancer of the prostate
Killian pulls on a paper gown, tying it around his waist before donning a face mask, goggles and a scrub cap. He snaps on a pair of gloves, his boots clunking across the floor as he approaches his newest guest, as he likes to call them.
"Hello, Mr. Booth. Not to worry, I'll take excellent care of you."
To Killian, the dead are to be treated just as well as they should've been treated when they were alive. He likes to treat his guests as if he were having them over for coffee or dinner—and yes, that means sometimes he talks to them.
"It's a great day to build something," Killian says as he begins washing Mr. Booth with a disinfectant solution. His woodshop teacher would start every class with that line. And just as carpentry is an art and skill, so is embalming the dead. Killian likes to think of each body he works on as his own personal canvas, and the viewing room is where he will eventually display his artwork.
Some people say it takes a certain kind of person to be an undertaker. It takes a certain type of person to look death in the face and not tear up, be weirded out or get emotional. But for Killian, death has been his life for as long as he can remember. And it's not as if he doesn't feel any type of remorse or emotion for his guests; he's just gotten good at hiding it. He's embalmed and prepared more bodies than he can remember, and after a while, they all started to blur together, so he's gotten good at doing his job without letting his feelings get in the way.
The embalming process itself isn't extremely complicated. That's not to say it can't be tedious or difficult or thankless at times, but there are very few steps when dealing with a relatively normal corpse, like the ones who've died of natural causes. Those are simple and routine, and he's usually able to let everything else fade into the background while he works.
The only time he's ever let his guard down while working on the deceased was when the body was of a young girl around his daughter's age at the time. Sadly, he's had to take care of babies and children who've died of some type of illness or medical condition or were involved in a car accident or had a fatal allergic reaction, but very, very rarely does he get a child who was a victim of murder. Those he never handles very well. This particular child had been assaulted and her body was littered with marks and bruises. He had broken down into tears and felt an unbearable amount of rage inside him—something he rarely feels. He almost couldn't go through with the embalming, but he'd forced himself to for her parents' sake, because they already had enough to deal with; they didn't need him adding to their pain and suffering.
Killian had wanted to find the person who had done this atrocity and murder him with his bare hands. Thank the Gods above, Graham is fairly good at what he does and was able to track down the murderer and arrest him. The man received a life sentence and can never harm another child ever again. Though in Killian's opinion, he deserves so much worse. Killian has never been a violent person, but when it comes to his own daughter, he would do unthinkable acts to anyone who dared to bring harm to her.
Luckily, the victim's face had been untouched, and he was able to make her look as presentable as possible to her family and friends. It was bad enough the parents had lost their child, so to not have been able to see her one last time and say their final goodbyes would've been even more devastating for them. Wounds and autopsy scars from the neck down can be covered up by clothing, but facial injuries are more difficult to make palatable. If the corpse is too unsightly, he and Liam recommend a closed casket service.
After washing the body, Killian positions Marco's arms across the man's abdomen and massages the limbs to relieve rigor mortis, which makes the body less stiff. His entire job is to make his guests appear as lifelike and peaceful as possible to allow the family and friends to remember their loved ones as they were when they were alive. Killian didn't know Mr. Booth very well, but he has a lot of fond memories of him as his teacher in woodshop class. And Killian went to school with Marco's son, August, who was known as a troublemaker and never liked to show up to class. After he got his GED, he left his father to travel the world, only thinking of himself. He never even knew his father had cancer until Marco was on his deathbed. But thankfully, he returned to Storybrooke to see that his father had a proper funeral. Killian had received the phone call early this morning and retrieved the body from Storybrooke General Hospital. Liam had performed the intake paperwork and consulted with August about his wishes for his father.
Killian shaves the areas that will need an incision, inserts eye caps to keep the eyelids closed, stuffs the nose with cotton and wires Mr. Booth's jaw shut. The man was extremely kind and pleasant and always had a friendly smile on his face, which is evident in the lines around his lips and eyes. Since there will be an open casket funeral, Killian consults the photo on his instrument table for reference and makes sure to arrange a pleasant and mild expression on Marco's face, a small smile playing upon the dead man's lips, which Killian glues shut. Mr. Booth now looks like he's sleeping peacefully and hasn't just died of prostate cancer.
It used to surprise him that the dead could appear so lifelike after an embalming. He'd forget he was in the presence of the dead until he touched their clammy, pallid skin. And after many years of being an undertaker, the line between the living and dead became blurred. If his father had taught him anything, it's that the dead are just as important as the living. Brennan used to tell Killian how important it was to understand the person on the embalming table. To try and understand what they went through, even if they were a bad person when they were alive. Even the bad people had loved ones.
He admits his work is a little sloppier if his guest used to be a criminal, but he still treats them with respect and tries to understand why they did what they did. It's more difficult to show compassion toward the grumpy town drunk who spent most of his life in jail and hating everyone than it is to show compassion toward a kind, elderly man who served his country, gave back to his community and worked hard his entire life. But every person has their own story, their own childhood and experiences that helped mold and shape them into the person they became. So the best way to show someone compassion is to first understand them.
Killian mixes chemicals in his embalming tank and makes an incision near Marco's collarbone, allowing access to the carotid artery and the jugular vein. He inserts forceps into the jugular vein and injects the embalming fluid into the carotid artery through a tube connected to the tank, which pushes the formaldehyde through the arteries as blood is pushed out through the jugular vein. The lanolin base he'd added to the fluid will keep Marco's skin moisturized and firm the tissue, replacing the ashen with a pink color for a more lifelike appearance. After the arteries are embalmed, next is the body cavity, where he inserts a trocar to drain the gas and excess fluids.
After he embalms and preserves a body, it's also his job to wash and groom the hair and apply makeup, and he takes great pride in the work he does to prepare his guests for their final resting place. So when Liam not only mentioned hiring a beautician but also put an ad in the paper without discussing it with Killian, it was a blow to the gut. He doesn't need anyone's assistance to put makeup on a guest—never has; he's perfectly capable of doing it himself.
But luckily, Liam had the ad pulled from the paper.
Emma's eyes widen as she pulls up in front of the large Victorian home. She didn't know what she was expecting exactly; she only spoke briefly with Mr. Jones over the phone to set up an interview when she saw the ad for the beautician job in the paper after deciding to stay in Storybrooke. She gave up her son ten years ago when she was in jail and homeless and definitely not ready or able to raise a child; but after Henry knocked on her door, she took him home.
She'd intended to leave after a not-so-pleasant meeting with Henry's adoptive mother, but it seemed like Henry needed her, and she's already turned her back on him once; she didn't have the heart to do it again. So she let her landlord know, paid the rent and utilities she owed and quit her job. Problem is, she doesn't have a place to park her camper. Before she came here, she was renting property in Boston so she could live legally in her camper. But now, she doesn't have that luxury. And she can't just get rid of it; this camper is the only thing Neal left her with and it's the only home she's had in a very long time. So once she finds a job, she'll find an RV park to set up camp in while trying to find a more permanent place to live.
After one final check in the mirror, she fixes her hair for the millionth time and grabs her portfolio binder. She hops out of her camper and makes her way down the walkway, taking in her surroundings. It's a beautiful house, but the sign inscribed with the name of the business, Jones' Parlor, irks her a bit because it looks like a tombstone.
She doesn't understand why the owner chose a tombstone for the sign of a hair salon, but right now, she can't be picky. It's a small town and there are not a lot of beautician jobs in Storybrooke. In fact, this was the only one that had an opening. She sashays up the sweeping porch steps and stands at the front door, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.
The door cracks open a few seconds later, and Emma lowers her gaze, a young girl appearing in the doorway.
She's probably the most beautiful young lady Emma's ever seen before. She looks to be around her son's age, maybe ten or eleven, and she has big, sparkling blue eyes and long, dark, shimmering hair.
Emma plasters on a big grin. "Hi. Is Mr. Jones here?"
The young girl nods, a small smile curving her lips as she steps back, opening the door to let Emma in. "Sure. Come on in."
When Killian is finished with the surgical part of the embalming process, he sews up the incisions and holes he'd made. He's almost done washing the body once more when he hears the door at the top of the stairs creak open.
"Papa, there's someone here!" his daughter calls from the top of the stairs.
The embalming room is a sacred place, and Beatrice knows she's not allowed in the basement while he's working unless it's an emergency. Even if she were allowed down here, the basement creeps her out anyway, especially when there's a guest.
"Be right there, Birdie!" He dries the body with towels and discards his protective clothing before switching to his dress shoes and grabbing his suit jacket. He has no idea who could be at the door, most likely a client, but he always makes sure to look professional when people come over. He makes his way upstairs and follows the sound of his daughter's voice, who's talking about his former high school teacher's prostate cancer, which she must have heard from Liam.
He pulls on his jacket and enters the arrangement room where his brother usually holds his conferences with the bereaved to discuss services and financial details. "How may I…" his words hang in the air when he looks up and sees a gorgeous woman standing up from the chair upon seeing him, "help you?" he finally finishes when finding the words again.
Bloody hell.
Long, golden blonde hair, glittering green eyes and glossy pink lips curved into a big, beaming smile, revealing her pearly whites. She's all dolled up and wearing black, knee-high boots, a blue scarf around her neck and some kind of matching blue sweater dress with bell sleeves like she just stepped out of the seventies. But he's not complaining.
"Hi, I'm Emma Swan." When she shakes his hand, her grip is firm, her movements are assertive and she's looking him directly in the eyes. She doesn't seem the least bit disheartened, nor is she either crying or on the brink of tears like their usual clientele.
He's still awestruck by how beautiful she is as he feels her warm palm in his, his heart speeding up a little. He breaks eye contact with her, hoping she can't see how entranced he is, and that's when he spots the swan pendant hanging from her neck, underneath her scarf. It matches her last name.
Emma Swan.
Wait. Why does her name sound so familiar?
"I'm…" Again he forgets how to speak, and when she releases his hand, he immediately feels the loss of her warmth.
"I know, you're Mr. Jones."
Before he can respond, his daughter chimes in. "Wait, you're Henry's mother?" she asks, coming up from behind Emma and standing next to him.
Ah, that's where he's heard that name.
Killian looks at his daughter. "Birdie, why don't you go ride your bike or go up to your room while I chat with Miss Swan."
"It's fine," Emma assures with a wave of her hand as she looks at Beatrice. "I am his mother. You know Henry?"
Beatrice nods. "He's my friend."
A crease appears on Emma's forehead. "You're Beatrice?"
"That's right." In the same second Beatrice's eyes light up, her brows knit together. "How did you know?"
"Because he told me he only has one friend."
Beatrice's face clouds over with sadness. Killian knows more than anyone how much his daughter wishes Henry had more friends, but Henry mostly keeps to himself because kids at school never want to come over to his house since his mother is the mayor and very strict. Beatrice has always made friends easily, but her friends never want to come over because...well, because the thought of having a slumber party at a funeral home creeps them out. And Henry never minds coming over, nor does Beatrice mind going over to his place, so that, among other things, makes them good for each other.
Beatrice sticks her hand out to Emma. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Swan."
Emma beams as she shakes her hand. "Please, call me Emma. And it's nice to meet you, too, Beatrice. Henry tells me you're a good friend to him."
His daughter grins from ear to ear. "He's a good friend, too."
Releasing her hand, Emma looks up at Killian. "You've raised a very nice young lady."
Killian grins proudly as he looks at his daughter. "Thank you, I think so, too." He bends down, dropping a kiss to the top of his daughter's head.
She scowls at him. "Paa-paa, not in front of people."
He chuckles and runs a hand through her hair as she wraps her arms around his waist and leans her head on his side. "Sorry, Birdie." He looks up at Emma again, scratching behind his ear. "So, uh, what can I do for you, Miss Swan?"
Emma's face falls, and she appears to be a bit offended. "Oh, uh, we spoke over the phone yesterday about the beautician job."
He smiles and nods, about to respond, but then confusion crashes over him.
Beautician job?
His smile fades, his face paling. "Beautician job?" He remembers his brother mentioning something about a beautician job yesterday morning, but Liam told him he was pulling the job ad from the paper. Killian shakes his head. "Sorry, lass, you must've spoken with my brother. Liam Jones."
Emma's eyes widen at her mistake. "Oh. Sorry, I wasn't aware there were two of you...I mean two Mr. Jones'." She looks around, her brows furrowed. "So, is he here? I really need this job."
Anger spirals through him at his brother's insistence they need a beautician. Liam told him he was canceling the job opening, then went behind his back and scheduled an interview with Henry's mum.
"He's not here at the moment."
Her face clouds over with disappointment, and to his surprise, it makes his heart clench. But why does he care if she's disappointed? He's perfectly capable of doing the hair and makeup of his guests.
Killian peers down at his daughter, who's giving him that look she always gives him when she's silently pleading with him with her big blue eyes. It gets him every time. He thinks about what Liam had told him, about taking some of the load off his shoulders, and he thinks about how much more time he could spend with his daughter if he didn't have to work as much.
Emma shakes her head, her eyes full of apology. "I must've mixed up the times or dates or something. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Jones." As she leaves the room, Beatrice lifts her brows and tilts her head toward the woman, silently coaxing him to stop her.
Killian drags a hand over his face, sighing deeply into his palm. He might regret this, but then again, maybe he won't. Maybe Liam's right. Maybe it'll be handy to have her around. Killian hears the front door open and immediately drops his hand as he follows her. "Wait, lass..."
She stops and turns around, a bit of hope flaring in her eyes. "Yes?"
He slides his hands into his pockets. "I can interview you for the job...if you want."
Emma's eyes light up and a smile once again overtakes her beautiful face. "Really?"
He nods. "Aye, I'm working on a guest right now, but I have a few moments to spare. Liam must have forgotten to mention you were coming. My brother's a bit of a git sometimes." He regrets making that comment as soon as the words come out of his mouth, because he knows Beatrice will tell her uncle what he said. "He'd forget his own head if it weren't attached," Killian says, throwing Liam under the bus. He knows his brother set him up on purpose. Liam left, knowing Emma would be here because he wanted Killian to meet her himself. Liam knows she's Henry's mother and knows Killian doesn't have the heart to turn her away. Or at least Liam thinks.
"Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Jones," she exclaims appreciatively and shuts the door, walking over to him. She reaches into the large, pink binder in her hands and pulls out a resume, handing it to him. "I earned my cosmetology license from Paul Mitchell Schools and worked five years at the Viselli Salon in Boston."
Killian scans the resume over, seeing the different places she's worked at, but none of them includes working on the deceased. All of her clients had heartbeats. And this will be his reasoning when he tells Liam why he didn't give her the job. "Uh, Miss Swan…" He lifts his eyes from her resume.
"Please, call me Emma. And don't worry, I have a sunny disposition. I put people right at ease."
Killian would've thought she was joking if not for how sincere she seems to be, which means only one thing—Liam failed to mention this was a funeral home. "With all due respect, Emma, the clients here are already at ease. This is not a beauty parlor. It's a funeral parlor."
Emma gapes at him in surprise. "They're dead?"
"Aye."
"Stiffs?"
His face sours at the flippant term. "Deceased."
"The ad just said beautician."
"As I said, my brother can be a git sometimes."
"Well, I guess that explains the tombstone you have as a business sign. I thought it was a bit morbid for a hair salon."
He shrugs. "That would be morbid, but luckily, this is a funeral home, not a hair salon." He walks toward the door, pulling it open for her. "Sorry to have wasted your time." And his. He'll admit she's beautiful and he can see she was right—she does have a sunny disposition—and he'll hate to see her go, but his guests are his number one priority when it comes to his work. So, he can't risk having someone who's not qualified to do the job correctly. He can't hire someone simply based on the fact he finds her unbelievably attractive.
"I don't mind."
Killian's eyes snap to hers, his brow arching in surprise. "You still want it, even though..."
She waves a hand. "Yes, it's fine. I'm okay with my clients not having a heartbeat. It may take some time to get used to it but—"
He lets out a silent sigh and shuts the door before turning around. Beatrice is now standing on the first step of the walnut staircase, leaning against the newel post of the balustrade, appearing to be intrigued by Miss Swan. It's been a while since they've hired anyone, so having someone like her would be a refreshing change of pace.
Killian walks over to Emma, looking her dead in the eyes. "Listen, Miss Swan, applying makeup on a deceased person is much different than what you did at Viselli's. This isn't like glamorizing people before they go to a party; this is making a deceased person look like they did when they were alive so their loved ones can say their final goodbyes without having to see the reminders of what took them from this life. The cosmetics I use on the deceased aren't the kinds you buy at Walgreens, which react to warm skin; they're special cosmetics to make the faces look natural and lifelike and to cover up trauma like bruises, wounds or disfigurements. You'll also be using wax, clay or plaster of Paris to reconstruct the faces when needed. And you'd be answering the phone."
Emma doesn't even flinch at his explanation. "No problem. I can handle all of that."
He's not convinced she realizes how different working on a dead person is compared to someone who's alive, but he has a feeling she'll find out very quickly and will most likely run out the door screaming. "Alright then, you can start right away." He throws on a grin, hoping she'll think twice about the job once she starts.
"You got it, Mr. Jones."
"Call me, Killian." Letting his eyes roam up and down her body, he wonders if she plans on dressing in attire similar to what she's currently wearing to work every day. "Now uh," he gestures at her clothing, "is this what you'd normally wear for work, or...?"
Her brows furrow as she glances down at herself and reverts her eyes to his, shrugging. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Nothing," he replies quickly, clearing the frog from his throat. "You look uh…" he closes his mouth, thinking it's probably not a good idea to tell his new employee how sexy she looks or how much he really likes her outfit. "It's just uh…" He scratches behind his ear, failing to cobble together a sentence that won't get him in trouble.
Meanwhile, she's still staring at him in confusion, her brows furrowed. "Why does it matter how I dress? My clients won't care what I'm wearing. They're dead."
"Yes, but…"
"Look, Killian, I promise I'll take good care of these people. They deserve it. All they've got left is their looks."
He glances at his daughter, who has both brows raised toward her forehead as she gives him one of her looks. One that says the lady's not wrong about that.
"Alright, let me show you where you'll be working."
Emma grins as he hands her back the resume, and she tucks it inside her binder.
Killian leads her downstairs to the basement where he explains the entire embalming process so she has an understanding of what's involved in preserving and preparing a body for a funeral.
He thought for sure by this point, she would run back upstairs and flee out of the funeral home, but she doesn't seem at all off put or spooked by the dead body lying on the porcelain table in front of her. Instead, she casts her gaze over the lifeless corpse and seems intrigued by the entire process, asking lots of questions and greeting Marco like he's alive and well. "Hello, Marco. Not to worry, I'll be taking good care of you today," she says, casting her gaze over his lifeless body. "So, this was your teacher?"
Killian nods. "Aye, he taught me how to make a birdfeeder. Which I still have, by the way." He grabs two black bib aprons from the coat rack, handing her one. "Here, you'll want this, so you don't ruin your lovely dress."
"Thanks." She takes it with an appreciative smile and pulls it over her head, tying the strings around her and removing her scarf, which he takes and hangs on the coat rack as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. "And thank you for giving me this opportunity, Killian."
He gives her a small smile, and after they wash their hands and pull on gloves, he moves Mr. Booth to the dressing table and grabs the suit August had brought for his father. He shows Emma the specific techniques he uses for dressing the body, since putting clothes on an ungiving corpse is a bit more challenging than applying makeup, and requires lifting and rolling the body from side to side.
When Killian's finished dressing him, with Emma's assistance, he smooths out Mr. Booth's suit jacket and once again crosses the hands over the abdomen. He picks up Marco's photo and hands it to her. "This is a recent picture of him. His son wants the beard kept the way it is because that's how Marco always wore it."
Emma nods in understanding as she studies the photo.
Killian gathers the cosmetics and supplies she'll need from his drawers, setting everything up on the instrument table. "I'll let you get to work."
He sits off to the side and reads a book, observing her occasionally as she works carefully and meticulously, her features etched with concentration as she uses clippers on Marco's nails and then cleans up his brows with a pair of tweezers.
Killian can't help but notice how high her cheekbones are, or how soft and smooth her skin looks; his fingers itch to stroke her face and feel her warmth underneath his fingertips, which is not a thought he should be having in the embalming room. Or about his employee.
He shakes away his musings and focuses on his book.
As though her client is alive, she explains the entire process to Marco and her reasons for using each product as she applies them, testing the makeup on her black-gloved hand before using it on Marco's skin. "This will take away these pesky blemishes," she tells him as she covers them with a concealer.
Killian has to admit, she's much better at this than he originally thought she'd be. She treats Marco like he's her grandfather, speaking to him with respect and compassion, probably just like she would speak to a client at Viselli's. He also has to admit, he admires her for wanting to be in her son's life. Moving to Storybrooke and finding a new job and a place to live must not be easy. She's taking on a lot of new responsibilities all at once.
He's still not entirely convinced he needs her help, but the woman has moxie; he'll give her that.
After a while, Killian stands up and studies her work.
"I've added shadows to give him a more natural look," she explains, using a brush to add some natural color to Mr. Booth's eyelids.
He's a bit surprised by her work. Not only does Marco look like he did when he was alive, but he looks better than he did, which is not always easy to accomplish on a dead person. "Impressive, love. For your first dead body," he teases with a smirk. "You never forget your first."
She waves a hand and smiles. "It was nothing. Dead people are actually much easier to work on than the living. They don't move around or scratch their nose or ruin their makeup." She lifts her eyes from the task at hand, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "When was your first time working on a body?"
"It was in my Gross Anatomy class at mortuary school. We learned about anatomy through a cadaver." Killian smiles a little at the fond memories of that class. "I got to hold a brain in my hands."
Emma's eyes widen with fascination. "Really? What was it like? Was it weird?" she asks curiously. Most people get squicked out when Killian talks about his time in mortuary school. But not this woman, apparently.
"Aye, it was very weird…" he chuckles softly, "but also very cool to hold something that once held someone's thoughts and memories."
"What did it feel like in your hands?"
"It was kind of like holding Jell-O. Soft and squishy, and it was so fragile, I was afraid I'd drop it."
"Wow." She grins and reverts her attention to Marco. "I think I may have chosen the wrong profession."
Killian arches a brow. "Why do you say that?"
She looks up at him in shock, as though not understanding why he would even have to ask. "Because...you got to hold an actual brain in your hands. The highlight of beauty school for me was switching from a mannequin to a real person." She flourishes her hands, gesturing around the room. "Plus, you have the dream job. You get to talk to people without having them talk back or be rude or tell you how to do your job."
Killian furrows his brows. "You think this is the dream job? For one thing, I'm always on call, Emma. Death never takes a break. I get calls at three in the morning and have to get up and drive across town to pick up a body. And my guests may not be able to tell me how to do my job, but their family tells me whether they think I did their dead loved one justice or not. If they hate the results, it only adds to their pain and suffering. It's a lot of pressure. Not to mention, your worst day at work was probably when you had a rude client. My worst day was when I had to work on an eight-year-old girl who was murdered and sexually assaulted and was the exact same age as my daughter at the time," he exclaims, his voice cracking and much louder and harsher than he intended. "I would've much rather have been yelled at by a fussy client that day, believe me."
Emma's eyes cloud over with sadness and regret. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean your job was glamorous, or easy...not at all."
Killian squeezes his eyes shut briefly and lets out a deep sigh, lowering his voice as he speaks. "It's just that, not everyone can do this job. Not everyone wants this job. But I do it for my guests. I do it to give them the treatment and respect they deserve after everything they've been through. I do it for their loved ones. And don't get me wrong, I love my job most days, but other days...sometimes I'd rather be doing anything else."
Emma nods in understanding. "I can imagine." Silence fills the room as she applies blotting powder across Marco's face and over his neck and hands, being careful not to get any makeup on his suit. After she's done, she sets the brush down, admiring her work, thoughtful expression on her face. "Do you ever wonder if people look like this in the afterlife?"
He arches a brow at her as he goes around to the other side of the table and helps her gather the supplies. "Like what?"
"Like their best self?"
Killian furrows his brows in confusion. "You think this is Marco at his best? He died of prostate cancer."
"Well, yes, but I mean their best self when they were alive and healthy, but without all their wrinkles and blemishes and flaws showing?"
"I don't know. I try not to think about the afterlife," he mutters glumly.
"But don't you think the families do? Like where their loved one will go after they die? Do you realize how important your job is, Killian?"
"Of course I do...but in the end, the body is still just an empty shell. The soul is gone. The embalming process is only important for the bereaved because it helps give them closure."
"But don't you think it also gives them an image of what their loved one looks like enjoying their next journey?"
Killian thinks about it for a moment as they scrub the brushes and instruments. "I guess I never thought of it like that." Not wanting to dwell on the subject, he explains to Emma how important it is to wash and disinfect every single instrument after each use on a corpse to prevent clostridium perfringens from being passed from one body to another. And how these bacteria can be harmless when ingested by a living person but will speed up decomposition in a dead person and cannot be stopped by formaldehyde. His explanation seems to be daunting to Emma, but as soon as he says clostridium perfringens also cause skin peeling, she immediately understands.
Once they've scrubbed the instruments and brushes, they let them soak in a strong disinfectant. After he removes his protective clothing and washes his hands, Emma does the same and takes her turn at the sink. As he dries his hands with a paper towel, he looks over, catching her glance at the wedding ring he still wears.
"Where's Mrs. Jones?" she asks curiously.
Killian's face saddens as he peels his eyes from Emma's. He doesn't reply with words, but his expression says it all.
Apology clouds over her face. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Actually, yes, I do mind," he answers sharply, not wishing to talk about it.
Emma looks down in shame. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." He throws the paper towel in the trash. "That's enough for today. Come back tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp."
"I'll be here."
There's an awkward silence in the room, and after Emma gathers her belongings, Killian follows her upstairs and escorts her to the door, opening it for her. "See you tomorrow morning."
She nods, offering a faint smile. "Goodbye, Killian."
After she leaves, he closes the door behind her and goes over to the window, peeling back the curtain. As he watches Emma get into her RV, he feels like a complete jackass for turning so cold on her when she asked about his wife. But he's not used to working with people who are able to talk his ears off. He's used to peace and quiet or sometimes music as he works. And after eleven years, he's no longer used to people asking about his wife.
This is one of the many reasons he didn't want to hire Emma, or anyone for that matter, in the first place.
The sound of someone padding down the steps breaks him from his reverie.
He turns around, seeing his daughter sashaying down the staircase.
She must sense the sadness in his eyes because concern clouds over her face. "What is it, Papa?"
"Nothing, Birdie." He smiles and kisses her forehead when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Where's your Uncle Liam?"
She shrugs. "Not sure. Why?"
"Because I'm going to murder him as soon as he gets home."