What the bloody hell are you doing with a file on my brother?
Emma instinctively took a step back at the icy vehemence in Killian's tone. The protective streak that likely made him good at his job was in full force when confronted with an apparent threat to his brother. She hadn't seen this side of him before. His temper was quick to flare and it was hot and ready to boil over. He was practically vibrating with the need to shield Liam from her and Emma knew she needed to diffuse the situation before she lost his help.
His trust.
"It's not what you think," she said soothingly, telegraphing her intention to put the folders down on the mattress before she moved towards him. "I have Liam's file for the same reason I have yours and your partners' files. I just wanted to throw Gold off for as long as possible. If he thinks I'm investigating you, he's going to expect me to pull those."
Killian blinked and Emma could see him struggling to figure out if he could trust her. She held his eye contact openly, hoping that he would see that she wasn't trying to deceive him. She wasn't; she'd read through Liam Jones's file on the off chance that she'd find something and nothing had popped out at her. But, she could see as Killian clearly struggled to put a lid on his temper, that wouldn't matter; not if he couldn't see the forest for the trees.
"My brother's off limits," he growled a few seconds later. "He's been through enough."
Emma nodded in agreement. She'd read the incident report from the call that had claimed Liam's career - and nearly his life. There was something that didn't sit right with her about it, but it wasn't pertinent to the case and it was clearly a sore subject. "What time is it?" she asked now that she was awake, reaching for anything to change the conversation.
Killian stared her down for a moment longer before he looked at his watch. "Nearly seven. There's a small shower in the marina if you need to freshen up. I don't know that you'll be able to make it across town and back with the morning traffic."
Emma shook her head. "I'm not going into the station today if I can help it. I'm actually headed down the Pike to meet with a woman named Ashley Boyd. There's a footnote in one of Gold's files about her, but she doesn't show up in any witness list or statements."
Killian squinted. "Ashley…" he murmured, trailing off and turning to dig through Emma's files.
Emma bit back the retort when he clearly understood her system well enough to find what he wanted. When he shoved all of her files to the side, however, and dug into a cabinet she hadn't noticed, she had to bite her tongue. He was making a mess.
"Ashley Boyd?" he clarified, turning with a file she hadn't seen before. "Married to Sean Herman?"
Emma nodded, eyes wide. "Where else did you find her name?"
"I remember Liam talking about the case. The lad's father hired Liam to look into Ashley, wanted any dirt that my brother could find on her. All Liam could find was that she was poor, but she was working and taking night classes to make sure she'd have a stable home for her newborn." Killian paused, reading the file more in depth. "There's no note here about a criminal investigation, so I'm not sure how she shows up in your files, but Liam might know more."
Emma shook her head. "I don't want to bother him yet. It might not be related." She didn't mention that she didn't want more people than necessary knowing where her rabbit trails were leading.
Killian cocked an eyebrow at her, and she grinned disarmingly. It didn't work.
"Your brother keeps his case files on your boat?" she asked instead, trying to distract him.
He shrugged with a wry look that screamed, I know what you're doing, but let it go. "Where do you think I got the idea?" he asked instead.
Emma blinked.
Killian relented. "He doesn't keep the files where he actually finds anything here. Those are turned over to his clients and the copies kept under lock and key in his office. But some of the ones he wants to remember, the ones where something seemed off or he thought the information he found was important, he keeps a copy of those stashed here."
"So he didn't find anything on her?" Emma asked, looking for anything to use as leverage if this Ashley Boyd didn't want to talk about Gold. Whatever he'd done.
Killian glanced back down at the file. "Sorry, lass. Says here that Liam closed the case and turned over any evidence to Mitchell Herman. There's a note regarding the birth of her daughter Alexandra, and then a wedding date some six months after that, so whatever he found must not have been enough to stop Mr. Herman's son from marrying her."
Emma sighed. "Guess that's not really going to help me after all," she admitted with a hint of defeat coloring her tone.
"Maybe not," he agreed. "But it might give you something to break the ice with. Get her talking about her father-in-law and maybe she'll let something slip about Gold once her defenses are down."
"Maybe," Emma scowled at him for a moment before she started stuffing some of the files in her backpack and headed for the door. She wanted to ask him to come with her. The long hours in the car with little to distract her was far less than appealing alone. But she couldn't ask him. For so many reasons.
Emma was better off alone.
Killian watched Emma gather up her belongings and wondered where he had overstepped. Before he could figure it out or work out if asking her would garner him an answer, she spoke again.
"I'll be out in western Mass all day, Jones, so I'll see you later," Emma tossed out as she nearly sprinted to the door.
Killian watched her go, shaking his head; he had no idea where he stood with that woman some days. With a frustrated huff, he scrubbed his hand over his face before replacing Liam's file and giving Swan's chaotic "system" a once over. He blinked several times, wanting nothing more than to stack and file everything in the cabin into some semblance of order.
Liam would approve.
Emma would kill him.
More afraid of Swan's retribution than of his brother's distaste should he see the mess, Killian turned away from the cabin after locking the door carefully. So far, Liam had been spending most of his time up north at the cabin, which kept him far from the Jolly and far from Emma's hazardous filing tendencies.
Not to mention, far away from Killian's obsession with her case.
Killian made his way above deck to the helm. He ran his hand over the wheel reverently. He didn't have time to take her out, not with the distraction Emma had provided, but sometimes he just needed to imagine. Imagine what it would be like to outfit her for a few months' voyage and just go. He and his brother could just sail where they pleased, answering to no one but themselves. They could live off what they caught and what they bartered for, could take odd jobs when they needed the money and just bask in the freedom when they didn't. He was surprised to realize that today's daydream included Emma spending her days on deck with them, learning the ropes and thriving in the carefree nature of sailing just for the sake of it.
It all sounded ideal; too bad neither of them would go for it.
Fair winds and following seas, wasn't that how the saying went? Killian shut his eyes and breathed in the smell of the ocean, felt the sway of the boat beneath his feet, let himself drift on thoughts of freedom.
And then someone blared a car horn and the illusion shattered.
Throwing his head back in frustration, Killian secured everything before heading back to his car. Smee grinned lecherously at him, but was ignored. Let the little man think what he wanted; if anyone from Gold's crew asked him, they wouldn't believe that the woman he was shacking up with was the same detective investigating them.
He hoped.
The traffic that had been blissfully absent when he'd driven to the marina was now in full gridlock. Killian shot off a text to Robin letting him know that he'd be late, ignoring the irony of a police officer breaking the law on one of the very roads he'd once patrolled. The car rumbled angrily at him as he finally was able to hit the gas and change lanes. Killian moved a grand total of five car lengths before slowing to a stop again and he started to wonder if he'd ever get to the station. The traffic report was supremely unhelpful - everything was backed up everywhere, it seemed - and Killian shut it off before he started arguing with the voice over the airwaves.
Biting back the urge to lay on his horn or gesture rudely to the soccer mom who had just cut him off with her minivan while flipping him off herself, Killian let his mind wander back to LeGume's murder. Nothing was sitting right with him about the scene. He supposed that the miscommunication between himself and Robin had unsettled him; they were usually much more in sync than that.
LeGume, it turned out, was teaching a seminar on the lesser nobility of England at Emerson College. He had come to Boston nearly a year before, and didn't seem to have any enemies. He had been staying at the Doubletree hotel due to his apartment building undergoing an emergency fumigation. Neighbors reported that he was pompous and unfriendly, but that there was a girlfriend who he had been seeing for the better part of his time there. No one knew who she was, but several witnesses had mentioned her having an accent, though it was different than LeGume's.
Killian and Robin had yet to track the elusive woman down. No one LeGume had associated with at the college had believed he'd been seeing anyone and he'd been alone in any video surveillance that they had compiled to track the man's movements.
The greasy substance that Killian had found on the scene was backlogged at the lab and no amount of charm on his part had moved it up the queue. He had a feeling that it was important, though he couldn't say why. Even he couldn't perform magic, though. He'd have to wait for the spectrometer results like everyone else.
Growling audibly at the minivan in front of him, Killian inched forward and wished he was in a patrol car. He'd get in trouble for using the lights, but at least he'd be moving.
What felt like hours later, Killian finally threw himself into his chair with a huff and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. It was his own bloody fault that he was late, but that didn't make the smug grins on David's and Robin's faces any easier to bear.
"Don't you two have work to do?" Killian grumbled, making a show of unlocking his desk and pulling out a case file.
"Nope," David retorted with a sarcastic grin.
Killian rolled his eyes.
"Actually, sir," Henry piped up, "we do need to write up the evidence report from the scene yesterday."
Killian grinned as David groaned; sometimes the kid being so earnest came in handy. "Better get to it then, Nolan. Don't want to teach the kid bad habits, do we?"
David shot him a glare, but there wasn't really any heat behind it. "Of course we don't. Come on, Mills. Let's let these two shining examples of police efficiency get to their own paperwork."
Killian waited until they were both hunched over their keyboards to ask, "What scene?"
"If you had been on time this morning, Jones, you'd have already heard the details," Robin put in helpfully.
Killian was going to douse Robin's next coffee with salt.
David and Henry, they finally told him after some more ribbing, had been called to Auntie's Chicken & Waffles Diner when the morning cook had unlocked the restaurant to find its owner dead on the floor. They were waiting on the ME's report, but early evidence had pointed to the old woman being poisoned. David was letting Henry take the lead on the case, and the rookie was clearly trying to do everything by the book.
He'd learn how to modify the guidelines eventually.
Killian turned his attention towards his own case, rereading what they had managed to compile on LeGume again. He tried to look at the evidence with fresh eyes, not letting his past intuition lead him down the same path. If he could figure out a new way to look at the murder, maybe something different would pop up.
Four hours later found him slumped over a box in the evidence locker, trying to ignore the dust that had built up in the storage area while he combed through the detritus that had washed up on shore with the body. Other than disgust at what the general populace found fit to toss into the ocean, Killian hadn't found anything new.
"Come on, mate," Robin spoke quietly, but it still startled him. "Let's take a drive and get some lunch. We can head out down to Boylston Street and find something to eat there before canvassing some of the student buildings at Emerson. Maybe someone will know who the mysterious girlfriend is."
Killian was surprised to realize it was past one in the afternoon. He stood with a nod and stretched, the loud popping that traveled down his back making both of them wince.
"Sounds like you're getting too old for this," Robin quipped with a grin.
Killian didn't disagree. "Guess I need to find me a rookie to do the grunt work under the guise of 'teaching him'."
Robin laughed, but crouched down to lift LeGume's box back onto its shelf. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Jones," he quipped.
"Wouldn't dream of it, mate," Killian answered back with a trifle more sincerity than he'd intended. Robin had been there through it all. They'd met at the Academy as roommates and then had been assigned to separate training officers before ultimately being paired up on patrol. Robin had dealt with him in the aftermath of Milah's death, had stood strong by him when Killian nearly fell apart then and again with Liam's injury and forced retirement. He'd accepted the transfer promotion for what it was, grateful for the increase in pay it brought. He didn't complain too much (to Killian anyway) about the feud with Gold and the number of times he'd been benched while Killian served another suspension.
Killian didn't know where he'd be if not for Robin.
The smell of city air filled Killian's nostrils and he relished it after the hours in the musty locker. He longed for the sea more than ever, but would take what he could get. Maybe a weekend up at the cabin wasn't a bad idea. He could help Liam with some of the chores they'd been neglecting and just forget about everything that wasn't splitting wood or reading by candlelight for a little bit.
Until then, he'd have to survive on bad Chinese food and canvassing the buildings that housed the Emerson classes. Gaston had been a visiting professor from la Sorbonne, so the route between his classes crisscrossed the Theatre District. Killian and Robin dodged college students and tourists alike on the Common and the sidewalks, glared at commuters who thought that traffic laws were more like guidelines than true rules of the road, and generally spent more of the afternoon on foot than doing interviews.
"Oh sure, you're talking about Belle," Professor Lumiere said offhandedly, what felt like days later rather than hours. "Never really saw what she liked in him, but to each their own, I suppose."
"Belle?" Robin questioned, a hint of hope in his voice. "Do you know her last name?"
Lumiere shook his head, but then snapped his fingers. "No, but she does volunteer at the library. The West End branch, if I'm not mistaken. I'm sure someone there knows her."
The Boston Public Library was a network of libraries, so having one to start with was at least a little more needle in a haystack than piece of hay in a haystack. And at least now they had a name to go by.
The woman in charge of the West End branch, however, was less than helpful. "I can't tell you everyone who volunteers here. I have books to categorize and maintain! Each one is precious and shouldn't be mishandled!" For all that she sounded affronted, Killian looked around to make sure Robin hadn't suddenly had a fit of insanity and started tearing pages out of her precious books.
"Belle," he tried again. "Surely there aren't too many volunteers here with that name?"
The librarian's eyes instantly softened. "Oh, Belle, of course. She's a sweet mouse of a thing, had her fair share of heartbreak, too. One bad relationship after another. I told her that she should concentrate on finishing her degree and not those men, but you know young people these days."
Killian blinked. "Do you, by chance, know her last name?"
"Belle French," she said matter-of-factly. "She's been auditing a class over at Emerson; that's how she met the last one. I told her he was a better fit than that slimy coward of a man that she's been on and off with, but I should probably mind my own business."
Killian wrote down the information and mused that whoever this mysterious boyfriend was, he sounded like he'd been cut from the same cloth as Gold. He quickly thanked the woman for her time but she'd already turned back to an unruly stack of books with a glare on her face as though she thought she could scare them into order.
Killian was almost positive that she could.
"Did you survive?" Robin asked cautiously when Killian walked over a minute later. There was a stack of Easy Reader books that he was leafing through.
Killian laughed under his breath. "Just barely. If your library card isn't in pristine condition, mate, I'd suggest checking out with another librarian."
Robin laughed but eyed the woman warily. "With how fast Roland's going through these, I should probably just start buying them so he can reread them. I'm a little too scared not to check them out now, though. We don't have time to go put them all back in exactly the right order."
"My Dewey decimal system is a little rough," Killian agreed, hefting the stack of books into his hands and walking them warily back towards the librarian.
Several disapproving glares and annoyed slams of the stamp later, Robin had a new set of books for Roland to devour and they were well on their way back to the car. On the way, Killian called Will Scarlet, asking him to run a background check on Belle French. The woman in question had an apartment up in Cambridge but had no priors except for several parking tickets which had all been paid on time.
Killian wanted to drive up there and interview her now, but Robin made him see sense. Getting to Cambridge during rush hour would make his morning drive seem like a sunset cruise around the harbor. LeGume would still be dead in the morning and a few hours' difference weren't going to magically blow open their case.
Still a little bit annoyed that they couldn't just keep going, Killian followed Robin anyway. They turned back towards the station; Killian was thankful that at least Gold seemed to be out and unable to find a way to torment him further. After the running around and the old woman's ire and the lead left untouched, Killian was frustrated. All he wanted was to get back to his desk and clock out for the night. He just wanted a few hours on the boat; he didn't even need to take her out. And if Swan was there, so much the better. They'd left on uncertain terms in the morning and Killian found that he needed at least one thing to turn out well about the day. If he could just patch things up with her, then maybe the day hadn't been a total waste.
"I hope to God you had a more productive day than I did, Jones," Emma called out when she heard footsteps above her head. Ashley Boyd had been angry at Gold, but she insisted - like everyone else - that he hadn't done anything illegal. Emma had seen something in her eyes though, something that made her put the interview notes with the others that she wanted to come back to with fresh eyes.
Killian stomped down into the room, glared balefully at the disorder, and then made the whole mess worse by flopping back on the small bunk with an affronted huff. His head thunked hard against the bulkhead, but he didn't even wince.
"That good, hmm?" Emma asked, fighting back the urge to ask if he was all right. There was a tense set to his muscles even as he relaxed as the minutes ticked by.
"Sometimes I hate the city," he mumbled, his eyes closing as he spoke.
"Really?" she asked, a bit incredulous. "I've always loved it here."
Killian's head rose a few inches as he looked at her. "How long have you been here, Swan?"
"Feels like forever," she shrugged. "Bounced around from foster home to foster home, sometimes outside the city, but never far."
"Hmm," he hummed noncommittally.
It was enough to break Emma out of the reverie that threatened to pull her back down memory lane. Long enough for her to realize what she'd admitted. She couldn't think of the last person she'd told about how she grew up.
Maybe Ruby? Certainly not Elsa.
But Killian had barely even reacted to the information. Huh.
"You don't have much of an accent for having grown up here," Killian mused instead of focusing on what Emma expected. "I'd have expected more-"
"I swear to God, Jones, if you even think the phrase, 'pahk the cah in Hahverd Yahd'," she grumbled, purposely obliterating every 'r' she could manage, "I will make you walk the plank."
He grinned, dropping his head back against the bulkhead again.
"Wouldn't dream of it, darling," he quipped, but then sobered. "I thought I recognized that look in your eyes."
"What look?" Emma glanced up in spite of herself, watching him stare at the ceiling above them.
"The one all orphans carry," Killian whispered, finally picking up his head and looking directly at her. Emma found herself caught in his gaze. "The look you get when you've been left alone."
She nodded in spite of herself, seeing the look she saw every day in the mirror reflected back at her in his eyes. She wasn't, it seemed, the only orphan in the cabin. "What about you? Your accent-"
Killian sat up swiftly, but didn't stand. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor for long enough that she wondered if she'd overstepped somehow. Fair was fair, after all, or so she thought. But maybe his past wasn't-
"Our father brought us here after our mother passed. He took off a few years later, let us get lost in the system until Liam aged out and won custody over me. I don't even remember England, but I guess I picked up on my brother's accent. I was lucky. At least I almost always had Liam. I knew I was never really alone," he mumbled some time later.
Emma shuddered, too many memories of nights spent awake, thinking she was just a lost girl who had never mattered and never would. What she would have given to have a sibling she could count on, who she could lean on when the system tried to break her.
"We got out," she whispered, the reminder settling her tumultuous thoughts.
Killian nodded. "Aye, lass, we did at that."
They both lapsed into comfortable silence, the muted sound of the ocean filling the room as the boat bobbed idly against the dock. Emma started to wonder if Killian had fallen asleep sitting up when he finally spoke again.
"Did you have any plans tonight? Other than torturing yourself with this unholy mess?" he asked suddenly, gesturing to the chaos around them.
She looked around. After the drive cross-state and back and the fruitlessness of the trip, she didn't really want to read through everything again. "Nothing except maybe a bottle of red and trying not to judge my own Netflix choices. Why?"
Killian stood gracefully, a move Emma wasn't quite sure she could mimic with the shifting tide moving the boat haphazardly. "Let's sail away."
"Let's what now?" Emma asked from where she sat hunched over a file.
Killian held out a hand to her. "Just for a couple hours before it's truly dark. We won't even leave the harbor. Sometimes it's enough to quiet the demons in my head. Perhaps it can do the same for you?"
She heard the unspoken question, knew he was asking her to trust him. Did she? Trust him? With the case, sure. With his intentions for Gold, absolutely. But with her?
"Why not?" she agreed, hoping he understood what she was saying. I trust you, Jones.
Killian grinned when she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her upright. The boat swayed under her feet, but she managed to keep her balance. The two of them stood there for a minute, caught up in their own thoughts. For that moment, nothing existed outside of that cabin. There were no sordid pasts, no unsolvable cases, no lost loves or past mistakes. There was nothing except him and her and the calm of the ocean.
So, naturally, Emma's phone exploded with several text messages. She grimaced as she tried to pull it out of her pocket, gripping Killian's hand tightly when he tried to let go. "It's just my friend Ruby wanting to know if I'm up for drinks."
Killian nodded, a tinge of sadness coloring his features. "I'll just leave you to it then, aye?" he asked.
"No!" Emma shouted, a little more loudly than she'd intended. She didn't want him to think… "No, I'll just tell her we'll go out next week."
A look of wonder crossed Killian's face then, as if he'd expected her to leave him. She realized that had their roles been reversed, she'd have thought the same thing of him. Maybe they did know each other a little better than she thought.
Everyone always left her, too.
Emma kept Killian's hand in hers as she typed out a quick reply before silencing her phone. She knew that Ruby was going to have a field day with this and she'd pay the price for ignoring the stream of texts that must be coming through, but it would be worth it.
"Lead the way, Jones," she said instead, smiling and squeezing his fingers in her own.
Killian saluted her jauntily before turning and pulling her up on deck. For all her time on the Jolly Roger, Emma hadn't spent much time up here. She had always been far too concerned with getting back to her notes, the files, another lead to chase like a cat after a mouse. It all looked so intricate, Emma didn't even know where Jones would start.
"Do you…" she paused, looking around a bit helplessly. "Do you need any help?"
Killian shook his head. "Not yet. Getting her out into open water is a little tricky if you don't know what you're doing. Once we're out of the channel, though, I could… I could teach you a little bit about sailing. If you'd like, that is." His hand reached up and scratched behind his ear. He still sounded uncertain.
"I'd like that," Emma assured him with a smile.
He beamed at her. "Excellent. We won't have long out here tonight before it gets too dark, but if you enjoy it, we could always come out on a Saturday, really get around the harbor. There's a number of little islands out here to explore."
"Your own little bit of Neverland," Emma mused.
"Aye," Killian replied, looking a little bit gobsmacked. "Would you like to see it with me sometime?"
Emma nodded.
"Well, all right then," he said, pointing to one of the seats near the bow. "If you sit there, you'll get a little damp, but the ride is worth it. Or you could sit here by the helm if you'd rather."
Emma sat where Jones had first indicated, breathing in the ocean air and finding how quickly it relaxed her. She let her thoughts drift as the point of the boat… the bow, she corrected herself, cut through the water with ease. Small ripples splashed up on the hull as she watched, her own face staring back at her, muddled and choppy in the reflection from the setting sun.
Emma could understand what Jones saw out here. Something about the vastness of the ocean stretching before them and the hidden mysteries in its depths made her realize that her own issues weren't quite as mountainous as they seemed. Even the struggle that she was having with the case didn't seem so insurmountable out here. Every lead she followed, every file she read was just another drop of water that was going to drown Gold in his own corruption.
It didn't take long to lose herself in the hypnotic movements of the waves against the hull. She didn't notice that they'd left the channel until Killian called out to her from the helm.
"Did you fall asleep up there?" he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.
Emma shook her head, sitting up slowly and spinning around until she was curled up below the railing, her back resting against the fiberglass. "Not quite," she admitted.
Killian smiled back at her and Emma found herself thinking that he looked younger out here, more carefree. More rakish rogue than overworked detective. More man than grieving widower. She understood that he and Milah hadn't been married in the legal sense, but it only took one look at him to realize that that didn't matter one whit.
"Come on up here, lass, and I'll show you how to take her about."
Emma grinned, pushing herself to her feet and making her way around the deck with wary care. She was comfortable below deck and when the boat was docked, but here on the open ocean, Emma couldn't quite erase the image of toppling overboard and being sucked down to Davy Jones's locker by a monstrous creature.
"You aren't, by chance, related to Davy Jones, are you?" she asked facetiously.
Killian smirked. "Of the mythological or the Monkees' fame?" he shot back.
"The former," she replied without missing a beat, looking out towards the horizon.
"There aren't any krakens in these here waters, lass," Killian answered, deepening his accent on purpose, Emma was sure.
She scowled at him, but tried to look more confident as she reached his side. "I could just arrest you for piracy, if you're going to be smug," she threatened, holding tightly to the railing.
Killian laughed heartily. "First of all, you're the one who threatened to make me walk the plank earlier, Swan. I think you've got a little pirate in you, lass. Now come on over here. I'll make sure you don't fall in."
Emma smirked at him sarcastically, but let go of the railing to join him behind the wheel.
"There you go, lass. Your sea legs aren't bad for a landlubber," Killian said with a smile once she was at his side.
She didn't know why, but the praise made her bashful. "Yeah, but I still get queasy," she deflected.
"Oh, it'll pass," he dismissed. "Just think of yourself as an extension of the ship."
Emma watched for a moment as Killian sailed with the wind, adjusting the ship's wheel at a whim from what Emma could tell.
"Come on, lass, care to try a hand at the helm?" Killian asked as he stepped back from the wheel, gesturing for her to stand there instead.
Emma shook her head, eyes widening as she took a step back. "I know nothing of sailing," she explained at his look of askance.
"Oh, once you get your bearings, it's as easy as pie." Killian pulled her in front of the wheel before standing behind her.
He was close. Too close, she thought.
Killian didn't seem to notice how she tensed at his proximity. "Now, the left side is called 'port' and the right side is called 'starboard'." Emma watched him indicate either side of the boat before he pointed down to where 'P' and 'S' were written in Sharpie on the console in front of the wheel.
"Now, go two notches to port," he instructed.
Emma looked at him warily for a moment before turning the wheel. The boat responded instantly, the sails filling with the wind and making them pick up speed.
"Well done, Swan," he praised. "Looks like you were born with the sea in your blood."
Emma quirked half a smile, unused to the praise. She swung the boat back around by spinning the wheel to starboard, still somewhat surprised when it did what she wanted. The wind died out, leaving the sails empty and the boat slowing to drift on the waves again.
"Did your brother write that and then teach you how to sail?" she asked sometime later, nodding towards the letters inked onto the console. Emma watched as Killian reverently traced the letters with a sad smile.
"No," he finally revealed before looking up at her. "Well, yes."
Emma shook her head in askance.
Killian sighed, tracing the letters again. "Yes, Liam taught me to sail when I was a lad. Though it wasn't on this boat, wasn't here. We couldn't have afforded anything like this growing up. But this one family we stayed with, they both worked and believed that we kids should get to know the outdoors. So they sent us to camp in the summer. I'd never even seen a boat in person before, but Liam…" he trailed off.
Emma stood at the wheel for so long that she thought she might have to sail home herself. "But Liam?" she finally prodded.
Killian turned a brilliant smile on her. "Liam loves sailing, he has for as long as I can remember. He used to make sure that we got the same block for boating so that he could show me."
Emma didn't understand the melancholy that had stolen him from her. She had her own secrets though, and she knew better than to push. He could tell her in his own time.
Or not at all, Emma, she thought angrily. He isn't… what? What was he? A partner, sure, she could admit that reluctantly if she had to. But they weren't the type of friends who would… Friends? Yeah, she supposed they were at that.
"I tried to teach Milah to sail," he breathed out, staring at the horizon as if he could find her out there somewhere.
It was like a bucket of seawater had been dumped on her head. Of course, she thought. Milah. "Tried?" she found herself asking in spite of herself.
Killian smirked kindly. She could see the love pouring out of him. "Aye. Milah loved to sail, but she could never keep her directions straight. I tried everything to help her remember, but it was useless. Knocked me clean over the side once when she tacked to port and called out 'starboard'. Finally just wrote it down where she could see it. Liam almost had my head."
Emma smiled, but it was a bit forced. She didn't know what had gotten into her. She felt… jealous? She tried to tell herself it was because of how he'd spoken of his brother while they were in the system. Tried to pretend that she didn't envy a dead woman. But the fact of the matter was that she hadn't been in a relationship since him and didn't know what it was like to have someone love her as much as Killian obviously still loved Milah.
"Enough of the past, lass," Killian brought her out of her musings. "The sun will be nearly gone by the time we get back if we leave now. I'd assume you'd rather not anchor out here tonight."
She shook her head. If he'd asked her an hour ago, she might have had a different answer. It would have seemed like a far better option than going back to her lonely apartment for yet another night of wine and regrets. But now… now she couldn't and wouldn't compete with the memories of Milah in order to find her own peace.
Better to go home and remember who she was - still that lost little girl who didn't matter and was coming to terms with that.