Chapter 50

Warning there is an implication of abortion in this chapter. Be careful if you find it upsetting.

"Why do we have to do a project on such a boring book anyways?" Henry groans as he sits in the library with Violet. Their binders and textbooks are spread out on the table as they write down ideas for their project.

"But The Great Gatsby is a classic," Violet protests, looking through her copy of the book. "And I find it exciting."

"Please, it's just describing people getting drunk and partying at a millionaire's house."

"A millionaire who is also a bootlegger," Violet adds. "He made all his money illegally."

"It just shows how snobby people were then and they're still pretty snobby now, just for different reasons."

"I find the forbidden romance angle between Daisy and Gatsby very enticing though."

"It was a summer romance between them, they never last very long. Besides, Gatsby is way too good for the shallow dumb blonde."

"I think Daisy has more character than that."

"Really? She only falls in love with Tom because he had money, she puts up with his affairs and then she falls back in love with Gatsby because of his beautiful shirts and fancy house. And in the end, she goes back to Tom and gets away with running a woman over. It's completely pointless. If I had written this story, I would've written it where she and Gatsby try to run away together and then he realizes how ditzy and selfish she is, he breaks her heart, she ends up alone and Tom gets shot for having the affair. Poetic justice. That would be a much better ending"

"Maybe you should write a sequel," Violet laughs. "I still think Fitzgerald really captures the essence of the 1920s, it sounds like the most romantic era to live in. Fireworks of the beach, champagne in martini glasses, jazz music, dancing until morning light," she sighs, getting a far off and dreamy look in her eyes.

Henry swallows, picturing Violet in a 1920s flapper dress, dancing to the lively jazz music and representing the glitz and glamour of women of the era. He stares down at his book cover, at the female eyes and lips against the dark blue sky, picturing his girlfriend's face in their place. His phone suddenly buzzes, snapping him out of the daydream.

It's from his Mom.

Are you okay? Please respond

He types, Yeah Mom, I'm fine, Violet and I are at the library. Why? What's going on?

Just checking in, please be careful coming home.

Okay…?

"Weird," he mutters to himself.

"What?" Violet asks.

"My mom's asking if I'm okay and telling me to be careful coming home."

"Did something happen?"

"I have no clue. It's like she suddenly wants to make sure I'm safe like I'm five-years-old or something."

"Maybe the baby is making her a little bit more protective than usual," she suggests.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Do you think we should focus on the symbolism in the book? Like the green light, the yellow car, and the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg?"

…

Emma paces by the stove, waiting for the pot to boil. It's getting dark out and Henry still isn't home yet. It's just after 6, he'd promised he'd be home by then. She stares at her phone, waiting for something. A call or a text to say that he was going to be late. Killian had already done so saying to not hold dinner for him, but her son had not. The threats in the letter are still in her head. If she calls the police, Henry and possibly Violet pay. If she tells anyone, Killian is the one to pay. She fears for their lives and her daughters. She cannot believe that Arthur has the guts to get in contact with her again…

It made her skin crawl. She still remembers his deep, low voice and his looming, gray eyes still haunt her nightmares. Sophie makes a few noises from her baby seat on the kitchen island. Her light blue eyes try to follow the frantic pacing of her mother. Emma can't imagine if the baby had actually been Arthur's… Would she be able to love the child that would have been conceived from such sickening and violent way? Would she have had his soulless gray eyes or his dark hair? Would she have had to put the innocent child up for adoption, just because of the memories that came from the innocent life? Could she ever do it…? It was the same question back when Henry was born, she and Neal considered adoption, but remembering how she was brought into this world and left abandoned and stuck in the foster system the idea was put to rest. She would not subject any child that she might bear to the uncertainness and loveless environment of the system. But if Sophie had been Arthur's and she didn't want to give her up for adoption…Abor…

She lets the tears fall freely, feeling so angry at herself for thinking such a thing. She had considered it with Henry and it came into her mind once or twice when she was in captivity. But the thought of ending the pregnancy like that made her sick to her stomach.

She kneeled against the island before picking up her infant daughter and practically crushing her against her chest. She continues to sob, the pain too great for her to handle. She couldn't lose the child then, she couldn't lose her now.

When the water boils, Emma puts her daughter back into the chair and pours noodles into the pot. Every little creak or groan of the house made her jump. She felt like she'd have to have a gun in every room in the house and even then, she still wouldn't feel safe. She keeps staring out the window into the side yard, waiting for the maniac to pop out. She had her hand hovering over the drawer with all the knives. She was afraid, but would also fight to her last breath to save her children. She nearly jumps three feet in the air when the door opens, she turns to see Henry in the front hall.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Emma snaps angrily. "It's twenty after six."

Henry is shocked by his mother's harsh words. "Hello to you too Mom. Sorry, the bus was a little late."

"Well, you should've texted me or called me to tell me that!"

"I didn't know that would happen?" her son says defensively. His voice begins to get harsher, matching his mother's tone.

"I've been worried sick about you!"

"Mom, I was only a couple minutes late, it's not like I went to Spain or something."

"Don't take that tone with me, young man! You're fifteen, you should take more responsibility…"

"I was being responsible, I was with Violet."

"Maybe you shouldn't see her anymore if she's going to make you late!"

Henry is very shocked by this threat and tears are pushing the way to the surface of his eyes. "Mom, I'm sorry… okay, what is wrong with you?"

Emma swallows and stops. She realizes that she's been crying during this fight with her son. Her hands begin shaking again and she leans on the kitchen island for support. She's taking her anxieties out on her son.

"Oh Henry," she says, collecting herself. "I'm so sorry honey."

The teen looks on in confusion. His mother's face looks as white as a ghost and she looks like a deer in headlights. Something has her spooked and made her angry. At first, he thinks it's her PTSD again, or the leftover baby hormones, maybe both, but she looks like a total crazy psycho or something.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he asks. "Do you need to call Dr. Hopper?"

"No… I'm sorry Henry, I'm just really tired and it makes me on edge. I'm sorry for yelling at you. You can keep seeing Violet, I'm just... not myself right now. But please just send a text in the future, okay?"

Henry walks over to his mom and gives her a big hug.

"Okay, Mom."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She squeezes him very tightly almost to the point that he can't breathe. She knows she can't keep him locked up in the house, then they will know something is up. He's a teenager too, he needs to have a social life and just as he's starting to make friends too. She can't keep him trapped. With his life at risk, she feels trapped instead, like she can't protect him when he's at school or anywhere else. Arthur could strike at any moment and she wouldn't be there. She kisses his forehead and then goes about distracting herself by making dinner. The two of them eat in real silence, with Sophie on Emma's lap the whole time, which was really weird for Henry to see.

After dinner, he goes up to do homework and his mother busies herself with things upstairs, straightening up and doing any extra unpacking. She walks into his room frequently, it's distracting, to say the least. When Killian comes home, Emma embraces him with open arms.

"How was work?' she asks.

"Same as always."

"Well, there's leftover dinner if you want some."

"Thank you, Love," he says kissing her.

After he eats, both parents go upstairs. Killian lays Sophie on the bed and begins tickling her tummy. She doesn't laugh as she's too young for that, but she squirms often. He also holds toys that make noise above her and she kicks at the sounds. Henry comes to join them, and he tickles her feet.

"I can't wait for her to start laughing," Killian says. "It'll be the most beautiful sound you'll ever hear."

"I remember when Jacob started giggling," Henry says.

"Aye, just around Christmas time, he liked the flashing nose David was wearing as the reindeer and smiled for the first time."

"And Mary Margret dressed him up in those ugly hand-knitted sweaters and took pictures of him under the tree. He'll want those pictures burned when he's older."

Emma leans in the doorway, watching the happy scene. She forces herself to smile, but the feeling of dread lingers in her stomach.

"Emma," Killian says. "Why is Sophie's bassinette in here?"

"Yeah Mom, I thought you were keeping her in her room."

Emma swallows. "I just thought it would be easier, just for right now, for feeding. If I have her here, I won't be walking back and forth down the hallway and disturbing you… It'll just be easier to get her just as she starts crying."

Both men look at her skeptically.

Emma does her best to make it as convincing as possible. "I've also just been on edge and I worry about her constantly. Mary Margret told me that keeping her in here will help ease my anxiety for right now. She did it with Jacob."

She's glad that neither Henry nor Killian has her superpower of telling if someone is lying because they would see right through it.

"I hope that's okay Killian…"

The docks man, while skeptical shrugs. "Whatever you want Love."

…

As she's getting ready for bed, Emma is constantly checking over her shoulder. As she brushes her teeth, Killian comes in and wraps his arms around her. She squirms a bit but decides to accept it.

"Are you all right love?" he asks.

"Of course, I am, why?" she says nonchalantly.

"You just seem more anxious than usual. It also feels like you're hiding something."

She spits into the sink and then washes her face before answering.

"I just… don't feel like me right now…" which was the truth. "I had a fight with Henry earlier, I yelled at him for being late coming home. I just feel like I'm being more aggressive than I could be and I know it's not right. I don't want you or Henry or Sophie to be in the middle of it…"

He kisses her neck gently and rubs her shoulders. "Emma, you can always rely on me. If you have a problem, you can come to me with it. We're a team, remember? Although you've never been able to keep secrets from me for long, like I said in the bar that night, you're an open book."

Emma's mind flashes back to the night they had met.

...

It was starting to become late, the sun had just sunk below the skyline as the scantily dressed Emma Swan walked into the dockside bar. It was not one of the seediest places she'd ever been, but it was not well-kept. It was meant to give off a "seaside" esthetic, but it ended up looking rather sad, with stuffed dead fish mounted on the walls like trophies and a discarded ships wheel to serve as a chandelier.

Emma wore a black spaghetti strap dress and very large heels as she walked into the bar. Many eyes glanced in her direction, obviously, she'd caught the attention of the men in the place. Emma was still looking for her charge, someone who skipped bail and was attempting to flee the country by boat. She had very few shots at catching the guy, but according to Leroy, he'd been spotted in the area. Knowing this was the only place near the docks that was cheap enough for a man on the run, she went in with her best dress.

"A jack straight up," Emma said, slapping down some money. She tried to scan the bar, nervous but trying to exhibit confidence.

"You're not fooling anyone you know?" she heard from beside her.

She turned toward the voice. "Excuse me?"

Sitting at the bar was a man dressed almost completely in leather from head to toe. He wore chains and rings on chains around his neck, he tilts the glass of either whiskey or rum to his lips, finishing the glass before turning to her. Emma was taken aback by his eyes, which were a very vivid blue, his dark, raven coloured hair stuck to the top of his forehead in a messy style. Part of his chest was exposed due to the v-neck he was wearing. He smirks at her in a smug fashion that made Emma's blood boil a bit.

"The dress, the heels, the makeup, a drink that you hate, it's all very predictable."

When the bartender places Emma's drink down. Despite the mission she was on, she felt inexplicably drawn to this man. Something about him was fascinating. Most of the time she could easily ignore drunken patrons, but there was something about this one.

"Predictable about what?" she snapped.

"You have an ulterior motive Love,"

"I am not your love. I don't even know why I'm talking to you." She turned away and tried to drink the bitter liquid, hating how much it tasted, but she had to prove this guy wrong. It tasted like bleach and drain water mixed together. She scanned the bar again, looking for her perpetrator, trying to focus. Yet she could feel the man's piercing blue eyes on her the entire time.

Killian, who had already had a few drinks after a rough day on the docks, was also drawn to the beautiful blonde that had just walked into his vicinity. He knew immediately that she was doing something, otherwise, a pretty woman would not be in this part of town, it reeked of fish and had loud, boozing men hanging around it. He thought she was so very beautiful, her entire body seemed to radiate allure, confidence, and determination. He hadn't seen a more adamant individual since Milah. That that point, he'd lost her months, if not a year at that point. It hurt so much that he'd returned to smoking and drinking continuously to numb the pain and now... this blonde angel had brought him out of his drunken haze. He pushed the glass away and slid closer to him.

"I think it's because you don't want me to blow your cover," he'd whispered.

Emma glared at him and turned away, drinking the bitter liquid. He suddenly takes her glass and places it down.

"You know, most men would find your silence and harsh attitude off-putting, but I love a challenge."

"I'm concentrating," she said trying to ignore him, but his blue eyes were trained on her like a tiger watches its prey. Yet, his eyes had been soft and more curious than predatory.

"On what would that be? You see, I've only just met you and you're something of an open book."

Unable to take this any longer, Emma turned to him in annoyance and lowered her voice.

"Fine, you think I'm open book, why do you think I'm here?"

"You're searching for someone, perhaps a new man, or someone to call your own. Find a father for your children... But, then again, most people don't come down here for permanent relationships, but you're not that type of person. I've seen sadness in my life. You're showing me the same kind of sadness I've had... I see a lonely person, not wanting to connect. Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?"

Emma slapped him across the face in disgust. This man was not only prying into her life but embarrassing her. It was scary that he could read so much into her already.

Despite the fact that she slapped him, Killian is still very intrigued. He could see inside of her vulnerable state already, she had passion and fire, something that made him want her more.

She turned to move away from him when he grabs her arm.

"Let me help you love."

"I don't need help and I'm not your love!" she jerks her arm out of his grasp.

"You're here for a reason, I'm sorry if I insulted you. Allow me to help you."

"You can't help me."

"Why is that?"

Annoyed that he wasn't going to give up Emma leans in, seemingly compelled to tell the truth.

"Because I'm undercover that's why..."

She then quietly questioned him about the suspect she was assigned to track down. His mood seemed to shift when she told him her true purpose. He felt bad for probing further than he should have with her, it made her uncomfortable and sensitive. Still, he'd broken through her hard exterior. They continued to snap at each other, being downright rude until Emma spotted her man come into the bar. She grabbed her drink back and then subtly made her way over to him. She tried to turn on the charm, but he caught on to her act really quickly. He turned a table over, punched her in the face and ran out of the car. She was in hot pursuit until she realized that someone was running with her. She could barely turn to see who it was.

It was Killian, although she still didn't know his name and in her mind was calling the annoying guy at the bar.

"What are you doing?" she shouted as they ran."Get out of here, this is dangerous."

"Danger is my middle name, Love. Besides, I can't let a man get away with hitting a lady like that."

"I'm not your love nor am I a lady, this is police business, you shouldn't interfere."

"I'm not that easy to get rid of," he'd said.

They travelled onto the docks, where she later learned that Killian worked there, and Emma could hear the suspect on one side of a large container of crates. She went after him with the gun from her purse in case he was armed. He was as he'd found a piece of rogue glass and slashed her hand as she tried to come from behind and grab him. She dropped her gun due to the pain, the guy punched her again, they wrestled for a few moments until he managed to grab her weapon from the ground. He had it pointed at her, shouting that he wasn't going back to jail when Killian ran out and began yelling at him. The guy turned, and it took her a split second to realize what he was doing. She then tackled him to the ground and placed him under arrest. She called David and she sat down to rest, trying to tend to her hand.

"Give me your hand," Killian had said, coming up next to her.

"What?"

"You hand it's cut. Let me help you," he'd said, trying to grab her arm to inspect her wound.

"No, it's fine," she insisted.

"No, it's not," he grabbed her hand and she could feel the gentleness of his hands. "It could become infected."

"So now you're going to be a gentleman?" she'd muttered.

"I'm always a gentleman," he said with a mischievous glint in his then pulled a flask out of his leather jacket and dumped it on the wound, causing her to grimace and groan.

"Ah, Oh What the hell is that?"

"Rum, A bloody waste of it too,"

He then maintained eye contact with her and he wrapped her wound, she became lost in his deep blue eyes. Her heart fluttered, and her cheeks became flushed as he put the cloth in his mouth and continued to wrap her hand. Despite her annoyance from before and the darkness of the bar, he was a very attractive man.

"Thank you," she'd finally managed to say. "For distracting him."

"It was my pleasure. I do wish that you would have let me punch him. He had no right to hit you like that."

"I've had worse," she'd said.

"I can't imagine how, but your eyes certainly seem to say so," he said.

"Oh, so you're reading my eyes now too? Are you a fortune teller?"

"Not at all, but I see you Love and you are something of an open book."

"Am I really?" she rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Like I said before, most men would find your silence and harsh attitude off-putting, but I love a challenge."

"You know nothing about me."

"That may be so, but I've seen sadness in my life. You're showing me the same kind of sadness. I see that an orphan is an orphan… Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it? Have you ever been in love?"

Emma has swallowed and turned away. The wounds of Neal leaving, though in the past still stung. Her walls go up to hide the raw emotion.

"No, I have never been in love," she lied.

"I find that rather hard to believe. A beautiful woman like you."

"So now you're hitting on me again?"

"Perhaps…" he gave her a smirk.

The two of them sat in silence, watching as the police carted off the suspect. They sat in the glow of the red and blue lights. David gave Emma a nod of acknowledgment before going back to the station. She sighed, knowing she still had to pay him back for risking his life to help her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Really?" he'd asked.

"It's a friendly offer and a thank you for helping me, nothing else," she'd said trying to establish the boundaries.

"That might be acceptable."

"Let me guess, rum?"

"And vodka for you? I knew you were not a whiskey girl."

"I'm Emma by the way," she figured it was appropriate to give him her name. "Emma Swan."

"Swan..." he purred. "What a lovely name. I'm Killian, Killian Jones, at your service."

...

The memory fades as Killian kisses her neck and she turns to kiss him fully.

"Am I still that open book?" she smirks.

"You are an enigma, but still open to me," he murmurs with a similar smirk.

"Trust me, if something was going on, you'd be the first to know okay?"

"All right love," he says.

The two head to bed, but Emma pauses at her son's door, making sure it was propped open, so she could hear if anything happened. She then checks on Sophie, sleeping soundly in her bassinette, it just didn't feel the same with her knitted blanket missing. Killian climbs into bed and she soon followed. He puts his arm around her. "Good night Swan," he whispers. "Good night," she says softly.

Her heartbeat echoes in her ears as she stares at the nightstand drawer, where her gun was, loaded and ready. She tries to shut her eyes, feigning sleep and trying to put her mind to sleep.

A/N: I'm back baby! Exams are done for me and I'll hopefully be updating more. Hope you like my Great Gatsby stuff, it's one of my favourite books.