A/N: Forever and ever all the thanks for your comments, kudos and playing along and answering my questions :) You all rock my socks!
Always, thanks to shippingtheswann for the cheering and beta work (go read her wonderful story!), imagnifika for finding the heart of the story with her art, look at the latest art for this chapter! love it! halobxist & meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo. And please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. The content everyone is bringing is truly amazing.
And now to explore some fables and fairies…
Chapter 5
"What pamphlet did you find today?" Killian asks as he buckles up.
Today being day four of their unspoken arrangement to travel together rather than travelling alone.
(She's not counting, not really).
Four leaf clover. Four surreal days. Four more?
She quickly pulls the postcard decorated with a watercolor clover away when she feels Killian leaning over and tucks it away safely. He shakes his head at her antics.
(Ok, maybe she's counting a little.)
"I don't know what you're talking about," she states, blinking innocently at him.
He doesn't believe her.
"Swan, the pamphlet, where is it they hiding, out with it!"
She could continue to pretend like he doesn't know exactly what he's talking about, like this hasn't become a game they do every day, but then she sees the smile tug at his lips and she wants to play.
Even more so because he was quiet this morning. Quiet and pensive and there's also this thing where she caught him running his fingers across a weathered piece of paper. More precisely what looks to be an old Chinese takeout menu with scribbling on the back. She wants to know the story behind it. It's clearly been folded and unfolded many times over and it never strays far from his person. She's pretty sure he keeps it right next to his heart on the inside of his coat, but she thinks of her own papers sitting at the bottom of her suitcase and she won't push. She won't push but she wants to make sure she isn't ruining his own plans.
"You're sure you're okay with sticking around Bushmills today?"
His hand rubs over his chest, it hovers over his heart.
"Absolutely. It was part of my plan as well. Now come on."
The shadows leave his eyes when she pulls out a crumpled pamphlet from her pocket and hands it to him.
"Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, first erected in seventeen fifty-five," he reads. "You sure you're aren't afraid of heights?" he teases as he continues to read through the details.
"Please. You'll be hanging onto me," Emma counters pulling the car onto the road.
"Mmm, we'll see."
"Just set the GPS, Jones."
xo
"Killian. Honestly, shouldn't you be holding on?"
"And miss this?"
Emma's hands tighten on the rope railings as her eyes go to the aquamarine waves crashing below. Razorbill auks and gulls swoop and ride the wind before landing gracefully on the rocky cliffs. Emma focuses on their coming and going as she attempts to move forward, although as she lifts her foot, the wood below her feet bounces, signalling more people joining her on the bridge.
Her knuckles turn white and a laugh bubbles up from her throat. Better to laugh than cry, right?
"So, maybe I'll just stay here," Emma calls out and looks to see Killian has made it to solid ground. He's tucked his camera away and simply holds out his hand.
"You've got this, just a few more steps."
Emma steadies herself and tries to focus on the good things, the pretty color of the water below, the sun's warmth against her shoulders.
And Killian, smiling encouragingly, hand still out.
She quickens her pace and almost stumbles off the bridge, but Killian is there, wrapping her in a hug. Her fingers tighten in the material of his t-shirt and she takes a moment to bury her nose in the soft cotton. She laughs with the adrenaline still coursing through her.
"You made it," he whispers into her hair and she lets out a long breath, not ready to let go. She wants another moment to appreciate how solid and warm he feels, how tightly his arms wrap around her.
"Is this my rain check hug?" she asks quietly. His embrace tightens further.
"No, this hug is free of charge."
She swears she feels his lips brush the top of her head.
"Killian?"
"Yes, love?"
"Do we have to go back across?"
She feels his rumbling laughter and it prompts her own. She pulls back but doesn't let go, and to her quiet delight he doesn't either.
"Unfortunately, we can't live out the rest of our lives on this little patch of land. I believe the wind can be quite cruel in the winter and as it happens, I didn't pack my tent," he explains quite matter of fact and it has her grinning. As if it heard him, the wind chooses that moment to pick up, but Killian captures her loose lock of hair and tucks it behind her ear. "I promise I'll get you back safely. How's that?"
She pretends to think about it and he gives her side a squeeze causing a laughing cry to slip out, as she tries to get away from the tickle. He lets her get as far as an arm length, grasping her hand.
"Ok, that's fair," she finally agrees but before they can say anymore, another tourist steps up to them.
"You have to let me take your picture," a woman about Emma's age says and adds, "This needs more than a selfie. You two look like you belong here."
She holds up her fingers framing them.
Emma shoots Killian an, I told you we should stay here, look. He rolls his eyes but is already pulling his camera from his neck.
"Ashley, what are you telling these poor people?" a man about the same age asks with a sort of loving exasperation - clearly this is not the first time she's done this - before wrapping his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Sean, they look like they could be Prince and Princess of Carrick-a-Rede or fairies," Ashley explains as Sean looks skyward. Ashley leans in and pretends to whisper conspiratorially. "Are you fairies?"
Emma's eyes widen at the whole exchange.
"I apologize for my wife. We visited the Bushmills Distillery this morning, if you know what I mean," he says, nodding his head towards the woman.
Sean receives an elbow to the ribs and Emma and Killian have to laugh.
"It's ten in the morning, you lug. This is our first stop of the day. I just love love, you know? And I know you'll thank me when you get home." Ashley takes the camera from Killian's hand and doesn't seem to notice how they've stiffened.
Killian recovers first, pulling Emma to his side, hand resting warm on her hip.
"How did you guess, lass?" Killian asks, playing along as Ashley holds up the camera, Emma quickly glances up at Killian just as Killian looks down. His smile unfurls, slow and soft.
Somewhere, Emma recognizes a picture has been snapped, and she hears a whispered, "Perfect." Killian keeps the soft smile and Emma can't look away.
"It's pretty obvious. Are you on your honeymoon too?"
That is, she couldn't look away until she heard that.
"Honeymoon?" she chokes out. Killian rubs his hand up and down her back, as he reaches for his camera.
"Not quite. Our first trip abroad together," Killian answers for them and it's not a lie, per say.
"Well, I can tell you'll have many more," Ashley assures them, Sean simply smiling at his wife.
"Shall I take a picture of you both as well?"
Ashley hurries to find her camera and the couple do look happy and in love while Killian snaps a few pictures for them. It has Emma wondering what exactly Ashley saw when she spotted them.
"Have a great trip you guys!" Ashley calls out, bringing Emma out of her wandering thoughts, the pair are already making their way back across when she feels Killian's arm around her shoulders.
"Well, what do you say my fairy Swan, walk with me along the edge of the ocean?" he asks, amusement clear in his eyes. She shakes her head but falls into step beside him, enjoying being his anything.
There is a brief moment where she knows she shouldn't put so much of her heart and mind into what she's feeling. She shouldn't allow these feelings to deepen but she's denied herself so much – she pauses to look over at him, the upturn of his lips, his own happiness reflected back and she thinks – maybe she is allowed to be a little selfish.
xo
Emma slouches a little further on her chair and brings her whiskey tumbler to her lap. She absently runs her finger around the edge as she studies the little pub they find themselves in. The walls are lined with pictures of smiling patrons and old band posters. There are multiple drinks on tap and the choices for whiskey could take you into the new year. A duo sits on stage under blue-green spotlights singing of love for Ireland and summer sunsets.
She closes her eyes against the gentle fiddle and voices rising together to think of the last few days. How each has slipped softly into the other with almost a practiced ease, as if they had travelled together for years, not days – a week – she corrects herself, shocked that so much time has already passed.
It's been going so well, she almost forgot about what awaits her in Storybrooke. Passing thoughts flit through her mind; finding a new job, paying bills, and a knot tightens in her stomach as she thinks of the envelope she cowardly hasn't touched since arriving in Ireland. It's never far from her mind and there is something that feels a lot like guilt creeping in, so she hides it further under hastily-folded clothes and decides to worry about other things.
Often in the quiet of the night when she hears Killian's soft snores or when she inevitably says something that makes him throw his head back and laugh, she is struck with the thought that they will eventually part ways – they have to, don't they? – and it steals her breath away. She mollifies the feeling by telling herself, not today, today there would be more exploring, more pulling the car over to the side of the road so she can squeeze through a hole in an old fence to explore a long forgotten ruin. And Killian will have more days of watching her from his spot against the side of the car, legs casually crossed at his ankles, pretending to not be interested. That is until she beckons him over. He inevitably unfolds himself from his perch and joins her spinning stories of centuries of past landlords and proprietors, tales weaving fact and myth, Emma hanging on to his every word.
No, she won't let herself think of parting ways with him, so they don't talk about it. They keep their silent agreement and continue on their forward journey.
She takes a long sip of her whiskey, and slides her eyes over to the man beside her. Killian soaks in the music with his eyes closed, intertwined hands resting on his stomach, his legs outstretched. He looks completely at peace. He hides it well, but he constantly carries a little strain in his shoulder, a shadow behind his eyes and so she's happy he's found this moment to himself. There is still so much she doesn't know about him and she doesn't feel like she has the right to ask, not when she is harboring her own secrets. but with every piece he does reveals, she falls for him just a little more.
Emma sits up, eyes flashing open at the sudden thought, worried they aren't just her own. That somehow he had heard, but Killian remains oblivious, the only movement his thumbs tapping along to the slow beat.
She stares at his profile.
She appreciates him a little more, she corrects her thoughts and casually tries to move her chair closer. Their knees gently bump with her movements.
His eyes slowly slide open, lazy from the whiskey but they roam her face with a warm affection. She stays still under his gaze but finds her leaning forward as his tongue comes out to wet his lips. The corner of his mouth ticks up as he comes to a decision.
"C'mere." The word is low and rumbles from his chest, and Emma can almost feel it dance across her skin as goosebumps appear across her bare arms. He leans over and grabs the leg of her chair, tugging it against his. He lifts his arm and she comes voluntarily, tucking herself to his side.
Ok, maybe she's falling for him a lot.
She looks up but his eyes are already closed again. His fingers have found a loose lock of her hair, playing with the end of it.. She lets her shoulders relax and sips her Connemara whiskey, the sweet clean taste warming her belly as her eyes slip closed. Emma revels in the warmth Killian provides and it's with ease that she lets herself be swept away by the now familiar strains of the melancholic Irish ballad.
xo
"Do you also like grabbing all these pamphlets?"
Emma, engrossed in the rack displaying all the local attractions, startles, nearly falling backward from her crouched position. A hand reaches out to steady her, and she looks up to find a sheepish smile on the face of a man she'd seen in passing the night before. He and another traveler had come in late on motorcycles, looking exhausted and drenched from the rain. She accepts his proffered hand and stands. He looks to be ready to hit the road again, leather jacket on, helmet dangling from his hand.
"Sorry about that."
Emma waves him off, with her pamphlets and laughs, holding them up.
"Guilty," she agrees, and smiles when she sees he's holding just as many. "We don't do most of them but they give you a good starting point." She leans in to see which sights the man has picked, "Oh, definitely check out Dunluce Castle. We did that one yesterday. Are you headed away or towards Belfast?"
"Towards, I'll put it on our list," he says, placing the castle guide at the top before continuing, "I guess you're heading in the opposite direction, to Derry by the looks of it?"
Emma nods, holding up the different brochures.
"Be sure to check out Guildhall, and if you can find Gerry, he gives the best tours. Tell him August says hi."
Emma smiles, committing the name to memory. Gerry in Derry, she thinks, shouldn't be too hard.
The screen door behind them swings open and his friend comes in from the outside, bringing with him a breeze that smells of the sea and wet grass. His helmet is already in place, he lends Emma a smile before dropping a hand to August's shoulder.
"We're all set, ready?"
August nods and salutes Emma.
"Safe travels," she offers and receives a matching sentiment in return. She watches them leave with a warm feeling settling in her chest at the easy interaction. Although it's just a brief moment and in the end she may not recall what he looked like or when exactly it happened, but the kind traveler will remain a bright piece of the Irish mosaic she will keep in her heart. Thinking of her heart, she is eager to return to her room to see if Killian is ready to start their day.
Emma slips into their room, the recommendation from August on the tip of her tongue but she pulls up short when she spots Killian. He sits on the edge of his bunk, his hair a distressed mess, shoulders hunched in on themselves. He doesn't notice her enter the room, focused on the weathered piece of paper on his lap. She doesn't want to intrude and debates returning to the common room but raucous laughter from the hall has Killian's head snapping up. She tucks the flyers behind her back.
He looks at her but she's not sure if he sees her. He looks tired. No, she corrects herself, he looks drained. He doesn't look like the same man that sat with her at the pub the night before. She knows by now the paper he holds must have a deep significance but any question she has dies in her throat when he looks away, as if suddenly realizing he has it out. He folds it up and zips it away in his pack.
"You want to hit the road?" he mumbles as he throws his pack over his shoulder. He doesn't wait to see her response, glancing around the room to see if he's forgotten anything. "I'll be by the car."
She wants to ask him if he's okay, if he wants breakfast, but he slips out of the room before she can say anything. She wonders for a moment if she should just ask what that piece of paper means to him but she looks at her own bag, and knowing the secrets that lie within, she supposes it's not really her place to ask any questions. Although her worry remains. She makes a mental note to grab some fruit from the kitchen before grabbing her own bag and heading to check out.
xo
It's late morning when they arrive in Londonderry. The steely gray clouds that hang low over the boarding hills match the somber atmosphere in the car. Killian feigned sleep almost as soon as they left the city that morning and had remained silent ever since. She knows by his stiff posture and the continual tick in his jaw that he can't possibly be sleeping. As much as she would like to know and soothe whatever is bothering him, she lets him have the time he needs, hoping that he eventually decides to talk to her at his own pace. She longs to think they've grown close enough for that.
Emma casts another look his way, and it becomes increasingly difficult to bite her tongue, the pain clear in his hunched shoulders and on his tensed face. If she could only reach across the console and at least lend a hand in comfort, but the way he's clenching his fist, she doesn't think the gesture would be welcome. Instead she concentrates on getting them to their destination safely, navigating a series of increasingly complicated roundabouts in silence.
She breathes a sigh of relief when their hostel comes into sight.
Pulling the car into the first spot she sees, she cuts the engine and lets the quiet wash over them. She watches as pedestrians walk by, one man gesturing wildly with his hands. Her eyes follow him for a beat before moving to the old brick and stone buildings lining the street, storefronts advertising a variety of products: a travel agency, a sandwich shop, Glamorous Nails and Beauty. Emma looks down at her fingers.
All the while, Killian hasn't said a word.
Emma takes a deep breath, preparing to say - well, she really doesn't know what - but he beats her to it, almost causing her to jump in her seat.
"I guess we drop our bags and head out? Although, it looks like we might get fucking rained on," Killian mumbles and doesn't wait for her answer, already out of the car, stretching his back.
She stares after him.
It's not that he never swears but the inflection on the word speaks volumes. Yet, she recognizes the frame of mind he's in, she's been that person so many times in the past, holding things in, letting them bottle up, she's lucky she's had friends that knew how to deal with her, and knew the right thing to say.
She feels a sudden longing for Ruby. She hasn't messaged her in a few days. Ruby would know what to do. She always knows what to do.
A sudden memory of sitting on her friend's porch, wrapped in a blanket hits her. She'd shown up at her friend's door unannounced, a ball of nerves, weeks from graduation, a no good ex leaving messages on her phone, and panicking about the future. Ruby hadn't asked any questions, she'd simply directed them to the porch swing, wrapped her shoulders with a blanket and watched the sunset. Sure, later they had opened the wine and she had called Neal enough names to bring a smile to her face, and her quiet words of encouragement about the future had worked to calm her worries.
Unfortunately, there's no porch swing and she doesn't think alcohol is quite the answer at the moment but she can be there for Killian, no questions asked, and so that's what she'll try to do.
xo
Well, she tried. A lot of good that did her.
She'd walked quietly beside him through the streets of Londonderry half the time trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing and the other half trying to figure out what she did wrong. Killian in his silence had been content or at least he hadn't disagreed with meandering around the city and at least there hadn't been any more fucking outbursts about the weather or otherwise. So she'd continued to let him be, but to be honest, there hadn't been much of anything. Eventually she had tried to point out a few things that caught her eye but when she'd received non-committal hums in return, she'd stopped altogether. Instead, they gave passing glances at the descriptive plaques marking the historic sites and moved on to the next. Emma eyed a few places they could stop for dinner and committed them to memory.
The closest she came to saying anything was as they'd passed Guildhall. She remembered the suggestion from her fellow traveller and itched to explore. The red sandstone building was impressive, and she got lost admiring the large lancet windows and the beautiful stained glass they contained. She imagine how beautiful they would look with light streaming in. She'd taken a step forward ready to gently suggest they go in, but when she'd turned she spotted him already halfway down the road,head down, hand stuffed deeply in his pocket. She doubted he'd even seen the building.
And now, hours later, back at the hostel, Emma suddenly wishes for the same freedom to keep her mouth shut. She has a feeling she will not be granted the same courtesy, not with the cool way Killian stares at her from across the room.
Stupid Emma.
They'd returned to their room to relax to before dinner and in an attempt to include Killian, she'd told him to grab some of the information she'd printed out about Londonderry.
"It's in an envelope in my bag."
The sentence echoes in her brain as she stares right back at Killian. He had an envelope alright but not the right one. She meant from her backpack, not her suitcase. Not the envelope that carried information even she didn't know yet about her beginnings.
She'd only stepped out of the room for a minute. She half expected still find him sitting on his bed not having moved.
"What is this, Emma?" he asks again.
Her first thought is to lie and her second is to throw the question right back at him. What is the paper you carry around with you all the time? What are you hiding? Why are you so upset today?
She can feel herself getting worked up, so she sits on her bunk and hides her hands under her thighs so he doesn't see them shaking and shifts on the bed.
She pulls in a deep breath through her nose and decides on a third option, one she isn't used to taking when backed into a corner. Honesty. Ruby would be so proud.
"It's information on my birth parents," she offers quietly but pauses, closing her eyes, thinking about how much she wants to say. "Or who might be my birth parents, I guess. I haven't looked at it yet. They -" her words catch in her throat, this being the first time she's said anything out loud, this also being the first time she actually might want to look into the envelope. She clears her throat and opens her eyes. She can't read the expression on Killian's face but she can't say he looks understanding. "They gave it to me the day before I, um, left."
He stands and crosses the room, dropping the envelope beside her. He stares at it another tense moment before focusing on her.
"Left or ran?" he asks.
She tries to not let the hurt show but it's hard when it feels like he's knocked the breath completely out of her. And by the way he quickly slides his eyes away, he must know his shot hit its mark.
She searches for the best way to answer but he's already waving her off, reaching to pull his coat on.
"Actually, never mind. It's none of my business."
All she can do is watch him pat down his pockets for his wallet and head towards the door.
Doing some running of your own, a part of her wants to call out but she bites back the words.
She's sure he's just going to leave but to her surprise, he hesitates. His finger scratches at a mark on the doorframe.
"I saw a pub up the block, when we first came in. Something about a rocking chair. I'll uh, grab a bite to eat there."
More hesitation. He taps the doorframe twice with the flat of his palm.
"Maybe I'll see you there later."
And with that he leaves her, alone with the silence once again. Funny how it's never been louder.
Thanks for reading!
What's the scariest thing you've done on holiday?
See you next week for Chapter 6!