Six
By the end of her fourth day with Killian Jones, Emma has learned only a small percentage of the mystery that he is.
She knows that he hates coffee, but drinks it because if he doesn't, he'll fall asleep while he's working on the lighthouse. This is mostly because of Henry and they both know it.
He offers her some coffee and she declines it, because she has nothing better to do but sleep and tend to Henry while she's bedridden with her stupid leg.
He only really comes to see her when Henry cries, which is often enough that she sees him every few hours, but it's not enough for her to get any information out of him.
She still really wonders about his life and his choices. Why he would decide that living here is a mystery to her. He probably could have won any woman's affections with just a flash of his smirk and a wink. He oozes charm. He can sing. He has pretty fantastic hair. He's intelligent and thoughtful.
She kind of likes him, but she never admits that to herself, though she finds herself dwelling on just about everything she knows about him in all of her spare time- which is all the time.
Killian walks with her for a little while outside the afternoon of her fifth day on Isolation Island.
It's freezing, and he gave her one of his sweaters, a coat, and a pair of boots that are way too big for her feet, so she's using extra caution as they move around outside in the dusting of snow that remains on the island.
The snow is catching in his hair because he's also lent her his bright red hat and she laughs teasingly, because his ears are bright pink and his cheeks are even pinker when he tells her they should go back inside.
They shake off the snowflakes and she shivers, teeth chattering as they stand in the doorway on the mat together.
The door clatters closed and she turns to face him, half of her face hidden underneath the lip of the coat.
He lets out a cold breath and clasps his hands together, hunching his shoulders with a chuckle slipping from his lips. "That's cold."
Emma laughs at his remark and nods in agreement as she unsnaps the buttons of the coat. She steps out of one of the boots with the leg she can manage and then, with the intention of not needing his help, Emma ends up collapsing straight into him, her hands clamoring for grip on his shoulders while her leg threatens to snap forward.
For a moment, she clings to him, unable to think straight. He is so firm and strong under her hands and her eyes find his to be dilated and wide, their breaths both surprisingly heavy. His hand is on her elbow and he gives her a gentle squeeze.
"You all right?" he asks gently.
Emma nods dumbly and slips back from him, keeping her hands on him for balance as she removes the other boot.
"Sorry," she apologizes quietly.
He shakes his head. "'s fine."
Emma stares up at him for a moment longer, seemingly unable to break apart from his gaze.
She swallows and rips herself off and away from him, closing her eyes for a moment as she blushes a little. Her nose is freezing and the rest of her feels just as cold as she strips off the layers and carries them to the fireplace in the living room.
Henry is still where they left him, lying in his little bed beside the couch. She goes to him after Killian takes her things to set them out to dry.
She avoids his eyes. He might be attractive and he might be nice to her on his good days, but he is still a man who doesn't talk about his past and lives alone on an island.
He could have a criminal history or might like taking shipwrecked people in just to eat them later on. She doesn't know. A person could go stir crazy living alone for however long he's been doing it.
Emma sits on the sofa and holds Henry in her arms, his little lips parting as he coos at her. He is a sweet baby, she has to admit.
"Would you care for a hot chocolate?"
She glances up and nods, receiving one in return before he walks out of the room. "Do you have whipped cream?"
He's quiet for a second. "I think so. Would you like some?"
"If it's no trouble. It's kind of… my family's thing. We drink hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. Even when it's not winter and freezing."
She smiles fondly, allowing Henry to take her finger into his warm and sticky grasp.
She listens to Killian as he prepares the beverages, clanking things around with a calmness she's gotten used to since they've agreed to be civil. She likes this version of him; the one that isn't fighting her because he's uptight over the whole being stuck together situation.
He comes back into the room with a mug in his hand that he promptly gives to her. She smiles at him thankfully, biting her lip a little as she looks down and realizes that he's not only put whipped cream on top, but also cinnamon.
He's warming up to her. This much she can tell as she catches a look of his smirk before he walks back out of the room.
She has a sip and almost, almost moans, but keeps the reaction quiet, closing her eyes and humming softly instead.
Killian returns with his own mug of cocoa and settles down on the couch beside her, almost too close for comfort.
He hums at the taste and nods at her. "It is quite good."
Emma smiles. "Did you put whipped cream and cinnamon on yours?"
He nods again. "That I did. I can see why it's your family's… thing."
Emma laughs and she notices his eyes smiling as he has another sip. She ducks her head as she drinks at the hot beverage.
There is a sense of camaraderie between the two of them. They're both stuck here with nothing but each other and this tiny child she has nestled in her arm.
Emma stares down at Henry, finding him fussy, and she looks up at Killian in turn. "You know, I don't think babies are supposed to drink cow's milk straight up."
Killian raises an eyebrow. "Well, what should we be feeding him then?"
Emma looks down at the little boy. She sighs heavily. "I don't know."
More silence follows. Emma finds herself thinking about the chance that anyone might come find this little island, wondering if Henry's parents are out there looking for him, wondering if hers are doing the same.
Uneasily, she looks up at Killian. "Is the island off the map? Would people be able to find us if we signaled or something?"
Killian shakes his head. "No. I don't think so. Not in my experience at least."
His words bring back a familiar question to her mind: just how long has Killian been on this island?
"How long have you been here?" Emma asks him after a few sips of hot chocolate in silence. She turns to look at him and he licks his upper lip.
"Going on four years, I think." He sinks back against the couch and Emma's eyes widen.
"Really? Do you ever get lonely or bored?"
He chuckles. "I am human, Emma."
She bites her lip, hesitating before she dares ask the question that's been at the tip of her tongue for a few days now. "Then why do you do it? Why do you stay here all by yourself?"
Killian doesn't look disturbed by her question, instead appearing to be honestly flattered that she would be inquiring about his social life.
He shakes his head. "A loaded question, that is."
He tilts his head to the side and downs another sip. He takes a breath and sets the mug down on the side table.
He holds his left arm up and examines his hook as if he hasn't ever seen it before. Then, he lowers his arm and sighs.
"When I was... fifteen, my brother bought this lighthouse. He said it would be our project." Killian smiles wryly at the memory as he stares off and away from Emma. "He'd gone and joined the navy a few years before and we'd been apart for… a remarkably long time, considering."
She wants to ask questions, but she supposes she's lucky he's even talking about his apparently dark past at all.
He shakes his head. "Anyway, we worked on it. I would help him with supply hauls. We tinkered a lot, mostly. He decided to build the house and we did it all over the course of a year or so- got it up and running.
"We stayed here that summer when I was sixteen. It was a lot less involved back then. We didn't have the telly to keep us partly interested when it decided to latch onto a signal." Killian tosses a hand in the direction of the box across the room and shakes his head. "We mostly read books and he taught me how to craft things. We made those bookshelves, actually."
Emma turns to look at the wall and a small smile fills her lips. "They're beautiful."
"Aye." Killian agrees. He stares at them for a few moments, as if thinking about something. "I joined the navy as soon as I could. Liam returned to it too." He looks at her. "There was a fluke explosion on a ship we were taking out for a routine maintenance run." Killian's gaze turns dark and he stares down at his mug. "I made it out alive, but Liam didn't."
Emma's heart sinks and she shakes her head. "Oh. I'm so sorry-"
"Nothing to be sorry for." Killian pushes up from his position on the couch and forces a smile that falls as soon as it rises. "I, um, I'll just go see to the lighthouse, then."
Emma drops her gaze and nods. "Okay."
He's gone by the time she looks up again.
/
Killian takes his fingers through his impossibly long hair as he walks out into the cold day. He breathes out a puff of white just to see it and kicks his boot against the rocks on the shoreline.
He hasn't thought about that day on the Jewel for a long time. He'd kept it locked away, never to be seen or spoken of again, and yet here he is, telling some woman he found on the shore of this bloody island his life's darkest secrets.
Something whispers in the back of his mind that she isn't just some woman, reminds him of the connection he's felt growing between them, teases him with the idea that maybe she could drag him out of his agony.
Killian scoffs, the warm air from his lungs colliding with the cold in another puff of white. He feels weakened, his guard falling by the day, and he knows it's what Liam would've wanted, but it's hard letting go.
/
"We should probably talk about how there's not a ton of food in the pantry," Emma says as soon as Killian returns from the outside.
He's carrying an armful of wood for the fire and seems caught off guard by her statement.
She's standing in the kitchen, nibbling on her lip with arms folded across her chest. She was going to make something to eat, but realized as she rifled through his freezer box that there wasn't a lot to work with.
Killian releases a heavy sigh, as if he'd expected this conversation. "Just a moment."
He goes into the other room and she hears him set the wood down before he steps back into the kitchen with his pink cheeks and earlobes. He pulls the hat from his head and unzips his jacket.
Killian stares at her thoughtfully. "Eat whatever you need to feel full. I'll take less of a portion or none at all. I'll survive."
Emma gives him a weary look. Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. "No, I don't think that's a great idea-"
"It's what I want," Killian insists. He glances over his shoulder at the living room and then back at her. "You and Henry weren't supposed to find me, but you did, so I figure the least I owe you is enough food to survive until you can go home again."
Emma's heart pounds just a little bit faster when he steps toward her with pure honesty in his gaze. He's trying. This is the kindest she has ever seen him.
She scans his face and swallows thickly. "I don't think-"
"I'll eat some," he promises. "Just… don't worry about it, Emma."
She knows she's pushing harder than she's ever pushed before.
He's told her about his brother and he's given her his bed, and now he's giving her his food. It should be enough to satisfy her enough to shut up and wait out the month, but something niggles at the back of her brain, begging her to find out more.
Emma takes a soft breath. "Okay."
He nods once. He tosses a look over his shoulder again. "I was going to start a fire. It's getting cold in here again."
"Sounds good," Emma smiles slightly.
Killian bobs his head and turns back around, leaving her to contemplate everything and anything she's ever learned about cooking.