A/N: Thank you so much for your continued support. I really can't stress enough what a wonderful experience this is and it's because of you! Loved hearing about all your escape destinations!
Sending my love & thanks to everyone at the CSBB, shippingtheswan, for the cheering and beta work, imagnifika for the wonderful story art and halobxist & meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. .Talent. And come join me on tumblr! high-seas-swan xo
"Archie, I'll never forgive you," Emma vows, speaking to her GPS. Her hands grip the steering wheel tightly, glancing quickly between the dark, narrow road ahead and the little picture of a car on the GPS screen suctioned to her windshield. In reality, she thinks, the road is barely more than a grassy path. She holds her breath as she slowly rounds another turn, her mirror brushing against the shrubbery on the side. She permits a quick glance to her passenger door and presses the button for her locks. She inches forward into the darkness suspecting she may never again see daylight.
After her poor start to the day, Emma had figured her mood would follow the weather, gloomy and gray but Ireland had decided it had other plans for her. As she had stood on the vast expanse of concrete, staring out at where the Titanic would have loomed over a hundred years earlier, the sun had poked out. The wind had still whipped a chilly breeze through her coat, but with her face tilted up to the rays, she'd been able to soak in some warmth. She had pulled out her phone determined to capture the moment, even if it had been just a selfie. And so as she headed back towards her car, she'd promised herself she would enjoy what Belfast had to offer.
She'd enjoyed it a little too much – not realizing the late hour after finding herself on a bike that fit twelve, blasting pop music, while one driver navigated the group of tourists and locals alike through the streets of Belfast. She'd picked up a postcard along the way and had each member of the group sign the back. She smiled at all the well wishes that had been inscribed. When she finally slid off the bike seat and apologized for not being able to follow the group on their pub crawl, she'd found herself in her car, hours behind schedule, with a quickly setting sun. She hadn't been too worried; the drive should have been relatively straightforward and short.
Should being the operative word, because one wrong turn lead to another and now, hours later, Emma finds herself on a deserted road that may very well result in her death.
"American woman, aged twenty-six, found alone in her car. Lost for weeks, no food or water. Her GPS the only sound echoing in the black of night, the wrong direct-," Emma's mumbled news bulletin is interrupted by an electronic voice.
"Recalculating."
She narrows her eyes at the screen.
The voice continues, announcing that after the next turn, her destination will be five hundred meters on the right. Emma says a small prayer and takes the turn. She sees dim lights in the distance, and after few tense beats, finally pulls up to her hostel. She takes a moment in the silence of her car to rest her head against the steering wheel and pulls in a few deep breaths.
Deep in, shaky out. Deep in, steady out.
Trying to ignore the tremble that remains in her hands, Emma goes through the motions of grabbing her suitcase and locking up. The bumpy front walk leads to a rustic wooden door. She opens it slowly and finds herself in a dark reception area. A stream of light filters in from the kitchen illuminating the empty front desk.
"Hello."
Emma covers her heart and just manages to swallow her surprised hiccup at the softly spoken greeting. She glances down beside her just as a young man unfolds himself from a couch she hadn't noticed. He leaves a laptop and earphones on his vacated seat and comes around to the reception desk, booting up an ancient computer.
"Hi, I have a reservation for tonight. Sorry I'm so late, I got a little lost," Emma explains but trails off when she spots a familiar mop of dark hair at the kitchen sink. He's elbow deep in soapy water, head bobbing to music she can't quite make out.
Something warm tightens in her chest and she can't help but feel a little pull towards the man in the other room. It's silly really, if he turns around and sees her, he'll probably want to do some running of his own but – with a trip so far filled with places and people she thought she would never see again, here he is; a face she recognizes and a name, Killian, that she's already committed to memory.
But their ridiculous meeting and heated conversation from earlier in the day swims to the front of her mind and she forces her eyes away. It doesn't stop her from yearning for a redo. Where she could calmly tell him it was her first trip abroad and that she was a little on edge. That most women wouldn't take too kindly to a surprise in the form of a naked man in the women's washroom but that maybe they could start over. She could smile and appreciate the way he would try to explain the misunderstanding.
Or she could sneak up the staircase and forget the whole thing. He probably thought she was nuts anyway.
Emma frowns and turns back to the hostel clerk who despite her daydreaming, seems to be waiting patiently for an answer.
"Oh, I'm really sorry. What was that?" Emma asks, hands twisting the strap of her purse.
"Just your name, please," the clerk repeats with a smirk.
"My… oh! Of course, Emma, um, Emma Swan," she bumbles through, her voice rising with each stumble. She bites her tongue and orders herself to calm down, but her heart has other priorities as it beats frantically in her chest. She dares a glance towards the kitchen and is held in place by eyes she knows are stupidly blue and dark eyebrows that raise in surprise.
She holds her breath a beat and before she can decide what to do, he gives her a small nod and turns back to the sink. She feels her whole body deflate and the earlier weight of the day back on her shoulders. She drops her eyes and tries to pay attention to the clerk as he informs her of the breakfast hours and check out times. After showing her ID and passing her credit card she dutifully follows the young man towards her room. She's careful to keep her eyes downcast as they start through the kitchen, not wanting to embarrass herself further.
Her stomach grumbles and she realizes it's been hours since she'd last eaten, too worried about reaching her destination to think about food.
"Are there any restaurants within walking distance?" she inquires and almost bumps into the clerk as he stops abruptly. Great, they were having this conversation in the kitchen now. The young man turns and gives her a look that clearly says, are you crazy, all the while feeling another set of eyes on her.
She chances a glance to her side.
Yup, stupid blue eyes watch the conversation unfold while he dries his hand on a towel.
"No, you would have to drive and most places stop serving at nine, unfortunately."
Emma knows it had to be at least ten when she pulled into the hostel. She suddenly feels her throat tighten and the hot press of tears behind her eyes. She curses her stupid body. She knows it is just stress from the drive and being tired after a long day but it doesn't stop the helpless feelings from welling up.
She shuts her eyes and takes a quick breath, praying she can get herself under control, at least until she gets behind closed doors. Then she can have herself a good cry and feel sorry for herself, after that she could try and figure out what was going on with her body and the emotional rollercoaster it's on. At home she prides herself on always being so even. Emma Swan, quiet and steady. Emma Swan, reliable and cool. Yet, just a few days into her trip and that Emma Swan has gone missing and the new Emma Swan is barely treading water.
But, she musters a smile onto her lips and swallows against the lump.
"Yeah, of course. You said my room is at the top of the stairs? I'll be fine thanks," she pushes the words out and hopes the young man takes the hint, leaving her to her escape.
Thankfully the clerk shrugs and appears content to let her find her own way. He retreats back to his couch and computer, leaving her alone.
She tries to make a quick exit, tugging her heavy bag behind but she falters at the base of the staircase when her kitchen mate finally decides to speak up.
"Love, wait. I could fix you something to eat," he offers and she's pretty sure that small bit of kindness will cause the dam to break.
One tear slips out.
She doesn't dare turn around.
"Thanks, but, um, I'll be fine," she calls out, voice cracking on the last word. She feels a real urgency now to hide away and takes the first step but is frozen in place as a warm hand closes over hers.
"Let me get that."
He must take her shocked silence as an agreement because before she can say anything, she's watching him take the stairs with her suitcase while she stands at the bottom.
"What, no, you don't have to…" she says when her words finally catch up, but it's pointless as he steps onto the top landing. She forces herself up the stairs after him.
"What do you have in here, a body? Maybe you're the one I should be worried about," he jokes as he finally turns to her with a smile. It falls as soon as he takes in the wet tracks on her face.
She drops her eyes and curses her tired, erratic emotions, wiping aggressively at her cheeks. She opens her mouth, determined to smooth over the situation with proper thanks and disappear into her room, maybe forever, but he's already panicking, filling the silence.
"Shit. Apologies, lass. I clearly need to take a moment to think before I speak. Emma, right? I heard the lad say it when you checked in. I meant no ill will. Now, this morning, or even last night when I was clearly out of line. I think being on my own for so long, I've become a little rough around the edges."
Emma opens her mouth to assure him it's ok but he doesn't pause.
"It all happened so fast this morning, I don't quite know how we got so turned around. One moment I'd somehow managed to get you to sit beside me, the next I'd managed to put my foot in my mouth again. I assure you I'm not normally such a wanker."
He reaches out, hesitates, and then gently brushes a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
She watches him, eyes wide, as his hand falls back to his side and he shifts nervously. Gone is the bravado from their first two encounters and it makes her next move a little easier. She reaches out with her own hesitant touch, and squeezes his arm.
"Thank you."
It's quiet and it isn't much but it's sincere. Emma hopes it sounds more like please be patient with me. He must sense it a little because she watches as his body visibly relaxes and something soft flickers across his features. And as much as she had wanted to be left alone, she now wants to come up with something else to say, something to make him stay.
As she struggles to find her words, anything she could say, she quickly realizes she's left more of who she thinks she is back in Storybrooke. That woman is able to trick the smartest criminals into getting caught, that woman can slip a smile on her face and chat up the locals and tourists alike at Granny's. Well, that woman is missing and in her place is a stranger, unsteady and unsure.
She forces her eyes up to his and steels herself to say something, anything, but her breath catches as they lock eyes. His seems to search hers a moment before narrowing and giving her a tight nod.
"Do you like hot dogs?" he asks, serious.
Her nervous laugh comes out in a quick burst and her first reaction is to protest once again, a you don't have to on the tip of her tongue, but as he bends to her level, dipping even more so to catch her downcast eyes, she clamps down on her bottom lip.
"Emma," he whispers and something in her belly tightens with the way her names rolls off his tongue. He waits until she slowly brings her eyes to his. He pops an eyebrow and she relents giving him a small nod.
"One or two?" he asks and his grin is quick as she holds up two fingers. He grabs the digits in is hand and gives them a squeeze. "Good. It's settled. Drop your stuff off and come meet me outside in the back when you're ready. Grab a sweater, it's actually a nice night and there's a little fire pit, I think we could enjoy that, yeah?" he explains, not letting go over her fingers until she gives him a soft affirmation.
"Ok."
He sways into her space a moment before giving her a final nod and hurrying down the stairs. She pulls her fingers into a tight fist, holding onto his warmth long after she lets herself into her room, leaning back against the door and catching her breath.
xo
Emma steps into what she imagines is a sunroom during the day and takes a moment to stare out into the darkness. She can make out a few lights beyond the bluff, homes that rest on the edge of the inky blackness of the sea. She imagines herself for a second in one of those homes, the sounds of the ocean breaking through an open window, a hot mug of tea between her hands and the grip of warm hands on her hips but before she can let the reverie take her further, pops and hisses draw her attention to the side. She spots the orange glow of a fire, its flames dancing up towards the sky before noticing the two empty white plastic chairs. Her stomach is still tied in knots but suddenly it feels more like silk edges waiting to be gently pulled loose than the tight, frayed knot she is used to. She pulls the cuffs of her sweater into her hands and with renewed determination, pushes through the side door.
"You're here."
She doesn't startle at his voice this time, instead a smile freely tugs at her lips as she seeks him out. She spots him off to the side, manning a little grill, hot dogs and buns looking ready. He quickly shuts off the gas and plates the food, head tilting towards a chair.
"Grab a seat. Ketchup and mustard?" he asks and she nods, slowly lowering herself to a chair. He adds the fixings to the dogs and hands her the plate before sitting beside her.
"Thank you. I don't really deserve it after..." she trails off at his narrowed look. Her eyes drop to her plate while a hesitant smile pulls at her lips. So, she tries again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now eat up."
He kicks out his legs and crosses them at the ankles. She watches him another beat before her stomach grumbles and she gives in to her hunger.
While she's had many good meals in her life, she can't remember any being better at the moment and the small appreciative moan slips out before she can stop it.
She looks up and he's watching her, amused eyebrow raised.
"Sorry," she mumbles behind her hand.
He snorts but waves her off. He reaches behind him and comes back with two bottles of beer. He holds them up.
"Yes, please."
He holds the bottles in the crook of his arm and easily pops the caps. Once he hands over her bottle, she holds the neck out and waits until he taps it with his. She holds his gaze and takes a deep breath.
"To second meetings."
He smiles and she feels her heart pick up, he keeps his bottle against hers.
"May it leave you with better memories than the first."
She rolls her eyes and watches him bring the bottle to his lips but just before she does the same she whispers, "They weren't all terrible memories, I was quite fond of your little towel."
She looks away before she can see his reaction but she does hear his cough. She hides her smile behind her sip.
Emma finishes her food and enjoys her beer, picking at the label while the fire before her continues to snap towards the sky. They sit in companionable silence, and with her belly full and the knowledge she isn't alone, another knot slips loose.
As with most nights she's experienced so far, there is a small nip to the air but with the wind down and the lick of heat from the fire, she couldn't be more content. She watches the colors flare before chancing a look at Killian. She finds his eyes on the flames, the yellow-orange glow, dancing across his features. She allows herself a moment to just enjoy looking at him. His strong jaw, rough with stubble and the calm rise and fall of his chest, she finds herself matching it before bringing her eyes back up. After a moment, she sees the corner of his mouth tick up.
Caught.
But for once she doesn't shy away embarrassed, instead she keeps her eyes on him, owning the blush that rises to her cheeks.
"Getting your fill, love?" he asks, eyes sliding away from the flames and landing warm on hers.
She sniffs a laugh and shrugs.
She enjoys the way his eyes widen in surprise before he gives her a once over of his own.
"You're not what I..." he trails off and shakes his head seeming to think over his words. Emma decides to wait him out, see what he wants to say but he seems to change the direction of his thoughts.
"What brings you to Ireland? Have you been traveling long?"
It's not the first time she's been asked the question but it still takes her a moment to push away the guilt. She pulls her feet up onto the chair and wraps her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees. She turns to the man beside her and he seems as comfortable as ever and happy to wait as she finds words for her reasons.
"I needed to do something for myself," she starts and she surprises herself. It's the closest answer to the truth that's she's given so far. "I don't do that very often," she whispers but at his slow nod, she knows he's heard. He still waits.
"It's only been a few days, so i'm still getting my bearings."
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she lets it out slowly and opens them, she finds he is still watching her. She likes it.
"Yourself? You said you've been on your own for awhile?"
He averts his eyes and she picks up on the tick in his jaw.
"Aye. I've been travelling for quite some time now. Years, to be completely truthful."
"Wow. You don't miss home?" her words slip out before she can give them much thought but as soon as they are out there and she can't take them back, she's not sure why she's said them. Considering her own views on home are a little jumbled at the moment.
He hums in response, preparing to say something but he hesitates and it's enough to let her know that he too can have his secrets. They are both hiding something, stories they aren't willing to voice yet and Emma realizes that it's okay. She would much rather enjoy the company than delve into things that hurt.
She speaks up before he can.
"I got lost on my way here. Didn't think I was ever going to make it, I honestly thought I was lost to the Irish countryside forever," she admits, propping her chin on her knees, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth.
She hears his quiet chuckle and counts it as a small victory.
"However did you make it out, love?" she turns to face him and debates how much she wants to reveal. He already must think she's a complete mess, what does she have to lose? And really with the way his eyes are shining at her, if she can make him laugh again she only has something to gain.
"Well, after some fiddling with my GPS, I realized I had it set to no U-turns. Things straightened out once I made that correction."
He throws his head back and laughs and she rolls her eyes but it's the effect she was after.
"I perish the thought anything should happen to you. Perhaps you shouldn't be left alone."
Her blush returns and this time she stares ahead as her voice slips into the night air.
"Perhaps," she whispers and her heart races.
What is she even saying? That she wants to see this complete stranger again? Hey, while you're at it, besides making me dinner, want to be my chauffeur as well?
Stupid, Emma. He's going to excuse himself. He's going to get far away from her.
"Perhaps," he agrees quietly.
And she doesn't dare look at him for fear he would see all her thoughts reflected in her eyes. Instead, she lets the weighted statement hang between them and appreciates the moment. A moment painted in the, what could be, where the possibilities are endless and she's left to her own imagination.
Where she isn't alone.
"I know I look like the ultimate traveler," his words break the silence and she focuses on him, a little shake of her head that he seems to enjoy. "But would you like to hear how I ended up hitchhiking in Copenhagen in my underwear, no longer a pair of pants to my name?"
Her laughs bubbles out and he grins.
"Absolutely."
"Well, it all started with this guy named Merlin." She settles in, putting up her hood and snuggling her hands into her sweatshirt pocket, watching the reflection of the flames dance in Killian's eyes as he tells his story.
xo
The next morning, the rain falls in sheets, changing patterns with the wind. It pounds against the pavement and rings off the tin roof but Emma takes it all in with a smile. Despite being up late the night before, she's rested, filled with energy, nerves, and hope. With a last look outside she rests on hope and turns to quickly pack away the last of her things.
It had been well past two in the morning when her yawns had become too frequent to ignore. They'd poured a bucket of water over the fire and had slipped back into the hostel.
Away from the vastness of the outdoors and the crackle of the fire, silence had enveloped them as they padded down the dark hallway. It had layered the evening in a new intimacy, one that had Emma's mind racing to catch up to all the different emotions she was feeling.
She hadn't had time to form expectations for this trip, how could she? One moment she was at Granny's the next, across an ocean. But even if she had, she certainly could not have expected to meet someone like Killian. The man made her skin flush and heart stutter, and for the first time in a long time, she wished she had an easier time letting people in.
She could still feel the warmth on her back where he bumped against her as she had paused at the stairs.
"I guess this is me," her words had come out in a rush just as she had felt his hand grip her hip.
"Apologies."
She'd glanced over her shoulder and even though she could feel him against her, his nearness surprised her. She felt his breath against her cheek and held her own. In the faint light of the hall she could see his eyes flick to her lips.
Or so she'd thought, it could have been a trick of the light.
"I'm just around the corner," he'd whispered, "so I guess this is good..." he'd trailed off and she had to hold the banister as she felt his warm hand over her sweatshirt.
"Goodnight?" she whispered, more of a question than a statement.
"Yes, that's, yes. Goodnight."
And then his hand was gone but still he had waited. She'd searched for something to say, see you at breakfast? Where are you going tomorrow? They'd steered clear of any forward conversation over their evening. It seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them, but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know.
She wanted to know if this would be the last she would see of him.
"Go on, lass. Make sure everything is fine in your room, I'll wait here until I hear your lock."
She had almost asked her questions, almost been brave but instead she'd nodded and taken the stairs slowly. She'd unlocked her door and turned. He'd waited, and although she could barely make out his expression, she'd heard him clearly.
"Goodnight."
She echoed it back.
Goodnight wasn't goodbye. She'd get her chance in the morning were her last thoughts before she gave away to sleep.
And that is why now, she hurries to pack her things so she can make her way to the kitchen.
It's a testament to her excitement that her bag doesn't feel as heavy as she hefts it down the stairs and even more so, that she greets a guest with a cheery hello as she passes them in the hall. She leaves her suitcase against the wall in the sunroom and puts on a brave face before following the murmuring of voices into the kitchen.
The scene is much livelier than the previous night. There are a half a dozen people milling about, a man already doing his dishes while two others chat at the kitchen table. She glances to the woman manning the stove, the sizzling sound of eggs being fried while toast pops up in the corner. Emma glances around, eager to find that now familiar mess of dark brown hair but she comes up empty. She forces the smile to remain on her face as she backs out and checks the chairs they had used the night before, but of course they sit unused, save for the heavy puddles and hard rain. She swallows against the lump in her throat and slowly makes her way in the direction he'd pointed to the night before.
The door sits ajar to the lone room at the end of the hall, she approaches it slowly but deep down she already knows what she'll find.
He's gone.
She pushes softly with the tips of her fingers and the door creaks open revealing an empty room, barely an indication someone had been there in the first place, save for the hastily folded blanket on the bottom bunk.
Emma sighs and as the seconds tick by, her embarrassment threatens to swallow her whole. Here she was excited to keep the feeling going from the night before and he – well clearly, he couldn't leave fast enough.
She doesn't bother with breakfast. She drops her keys with the clerk and escapes into the rain. She doesn't hurry, instead she lets the rain dampen her hair and coat as she drags her bag behind her.
Once settled in her car, she allows a last glance to the little hostel by the sea before setting the car in motion.
Perhaps sometimes goodnight is goodbye.
Thank so much for reading! Tell me, what's your favorite campfire food? See you next week for Chapter 4!