The old woman (well, she was ancient, really, but she wasn't one to brag) sat alone in the dark bedroom, girding herself for battle. She wasn't arming herself with the weapons of man. No. She didn't deal in crude violent instruments of iron and steel. She wasn't even preparing to wield her magic. That was for another fight, in another time and place.
Today, she was preparing her soul (and her temper) to face those who were supposedly her allies; those most spiteful and insufferably arrogant creatures: dark fairies.
They were going to condescend to her, and maybe even chastise her, for what they will call her failures to separate the girl from her protectors. They would be angry and impatient, but they would hold it under a cold, calm veneer, acting like the all-knowing overlords where she was their pitiful servant.
But she knew better. She knew how the dark fairies craved the magic that was contained in that perfect, innocent little vessel upstairs, and she knew that they could not break through to this world to claim it without her help.
She sighed, figuring that she wasn't going to get any calmer by stewing on the situation, and closed her eyes. Instantly, her eyelids fluttered, and her body lost consciousness in the non-magical world.
When she opened her eyes, she was in the familiar expanse of the dreamscape, and her allies were waiting for her as they had arranged.
"Xanathusa, how nice of you to finally join us," sneered Othrall as he hovered before her, his black wings buzzing behind him.
She smiled as sweetly as she could knowing that, in this realm, the glow of her yellow-orange eyes gave her smile an extra-terrifying effect. "Apologies, my friend," she replied. "Busy planning my next moves."
Othrall flew closer to her, followed by four of his brethren, the names of whom she hadn't bothered to learn. They were each about the size of a rodent from the non-magical realm. In fact, even though they had human-like forms and were dressed in black and purple clothing, she sneeringly liked to think of them as flying squirrels. But as much as she could chide them for their small stature, she knew that their power was nothing to be trifled with.
They were black-souled and pure evil, and in magical realms, they were feared by most other creatures. And now they believed they had found a source of magical power that, once they wielded it, would allow them to dominate all the realms.
Their problem was, this source of magic was a small girl who was not only well protected but who also currently resided in a land without magic. The dark fairies were powerless to enter it, and even if they could, they had no way to take what they wanted from the child.
That was where Xanathusa, accomplished witch and former student of Morpheus, God of Dreams, had come in. She gave them the plan and the means to extract the magic that they so badly craved, and her price was simply that she get a share of it for herself.
The dark fairies' leader, Othrall, was not intimated by Xanathusa's fearsome appearance in this plane, and that bothered her more than she'd liked to admit. Still, she held her ground as he hovered close to her face.
"The conduit has broken," Othrall said calmly but with an unmistakable menace beneath the words.
"I am aware of that, of course," she sneered in return. "It's nothing that can't be fixed."
"Not easily, though, I'd wager," he replied. His voice took on an even colder, more hateful tone as he buzzed before her. "Especially now that she has managed to pull the pirate into her dreams. We saw him there. They knew each other, who they really are. You were supposed to separate her from her protectors, and you've failed at that. Miserably."
She spoke slowly, trying to control her rage. "I did more than anyone cold have done. I got her here, didn't I? I stripped her of most of her protectors. The ones that remain have no idea who they are or what she is. She is still completely vulnerable to us."
"But it's taking too long!" Othrall screamed, losing his patience and drifting up into the air so that he looked down at her. It was an intimidation tactic, and with his sharp features and silvery-grey skin, he cut a terrifying figure. His eyes glowed red when he was in this state, and they looked at her with unbridled hate. "The pirate already found them. How long before the curse is broken? We'll lose our chance at the prize. Forever."
Xanathusa controlled her temper, but she couldn't resist levitating herself up to face him, not giving in to his intimidation. They were in the fluid, magical dreamscape anyway, and here she had complete control over her 'physical' form.
"I understand the risks," she sneered. "I will repair the conduit and take care of the pirate." She paused, because this part was going to be tricky. "I just need a little bit of it. Just a touch, so that I can carry out my plan."
Othrall studied her, evaluating her. "That wasn't the arrangement. The magic is to stay in the receptacle until all of it is collected. I won't have you absconding with any of it until I know that we have enough for our purposes."
She sighed in frustration, and she felt her orange eyes glow even more brightly. "I have no sure way of getting him out of the way without it. My form in that realm is frail and helpless. They don't suspect a thing, but I can't affect anything without a little magic. Just a touch. The longer he stays close to them, the more we risk the curse breaking too soon. It's already fraying at the edges."
"Are you sure that the magic will work in that world?" Othrall questioned.
"I have seen evidence that it does; that what she has is strong enough to affect their realm. If she had any idea what power she had, what she was, she'd be quite a force," she added, almost admiringly.
Finally he nodded. "Just a touch. Take it, and work quickly, or we'll find another way to get what we want."
She snorted ruefully, thinking, "No. You won't." Instead she cautioned, "The magic will work, but it is unpredictable in this world. I need to find just the right balance in order to make it effective. It could take time." The dark fairy scowled in response but stayed silent as Xanathusa followed him and his brethren to the receptacle.
After Hope's harrowing night in which only Killian could comfort her, Emma made a couple of resolutions.
First, she called the child psychologist at the top of the list that Hope's daycare director had given her, a Dr. Rose Li, and made an appointment for Friday of that week. That felt good. It felt like the beginning of a plan.
Second, she resolved that she wasn't going to cut Killian out of their lives in an effort to protect Hope. Emma now knew beyond any doubt that pushing him away was the wrong choice. They might have to have a conversation with Hope about who he was to them and make sure she knew the difference between a friend and a parent, but they could handle that. Hope would understand.
At this point, Emma just knew that they were all better off with Killian in their lives. If, for some reason, the psychologist disagreed with that, well, Emma would just move on to the next shrink on the list until she found one that didn't.
Having made these decisions, she powered through her Tuesday with purpose and felt better than she had since Hope's nightmares had begun. They didn't see Killian that day. He was working a corporate event at the museum that evening. So she invited him over for dinner on Wednesday.
Thankfully, Hope was nightmare-free on Tuesday night. That relief plus their plans with Killian that evening had Emma and the kids in happy, light-hearted moods all day.
By 6:30 in the evening on Wednesday, Emma was stirring bolognese sauce on the stove and waiting for the spaghetti to finish cooking when she heard the knock on the door.
"I'll get it!" Hope cried, sprinting to the entryway from her spot at the table.
She threw open the door with such gusto that it banged back against the door stopper and started to close again before Killian entered and halted it with his shoulder.
"Hi Killian!" Hope exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet and reaching her arms up to him as he entered.
"Hello, little lass!" he replied with gusto.
His hand and arms were full with a loaf of Italian bread wrapped in white paper and a plastic grocery bag full of more food, and he quickly stepped inside and placed them on the dining table so that he could lean down and return Hope's hug. He lifted her up and rested her on his hip, and she threw her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as if it had always belonged there.
Watching them out of the corner of her eye as she turned off the burners on the stove, Emma supposed that she should be getting used to seeing evidence of the bond between Killian and Hope. However, every new display of natural affection between them touched her heart and made her wonder how it had come on so strong, so quickly.
"Hello, Swan," Killian said to her as he leaned against the bit of wall that separated the kitchen from the tiny dining area. "This all smells wonderful!"
"Thanks," she said ruefully. "Sorry, I know you just had pasta the other night, but this is one of the few things both kids eat. Plus, Henry eats like there's no tomorrow, so this is a good way to feed him a lot on the cheap."
"Is there anything I can do to help? I brought some bread, plus some deliciously greasy looking antipasti to start with."
"No, you're good," she told him. "I'll put that stuff out. Just keep that one entertained." She added, nodding to Hope, who looked up and grinned at him slyly.
"As you wish," he replied. "So, Lady Hope, what kind of trouble can we get into before dinner?"
Her grin disappeared, and she seemed to consider his question with the gravitas that it clearly deserved. "Wellllll," she said, drawing out the word in deep consideration, "I'm not supposed to draw with markers (mawkaws) without a grownup helping..."
Killian glanced at Emma for approval, who grinned and nodded quickly. "Well then, lass," Killian said gallantly to Hope, "I will be your grownup. Lead the way to the forbidden markers!"
Hope showed him to the childproofed drawer at the edge of the kitchen where Emma kept her markers for special coloring occasions, and after he impressively navigated the tricky child lock with one hand, they set off to the living room to find some paper and make some art.
Henry came out from the kids' room to help Emma get dinner on the table, and soon the four of them were squeezed around the little round table dishing up the food.
With the four of them together, the evening took on a slightly celebratory air. Emma knew that one peaceful night from Hope did not mean that their troubles were behind them, but she felt good knowing that she was taking steps to solve the problem. And not only was she not avoiding Killian, she also wasn't carrying around the secret that Hope had referred to him as "Daddy" last Thursday night. Killian knew about that now, and he was there to help her take care of the little girl and ease her troubles.
Hope had graduated from a high chair to a booster seat, and she was pretty good about eating independently. Pasta could be a bit tricky of course. To limit the mess, Emma cut up the long noodles first, went easy on the sauce, and served it in a bowl.
Killian was attentive and helpful throughout dinner, helping Hopel to stab at errant noodles when she was struggling and dabbing at her messy face with a napkin whenever she'd let him. It made the meal more relaxing than usual for Emma, and she thought she could get used to this.
They chatted as they ate, and eventually Killian asked Henry how his excellent school presentation on technology had been received.
"I got an A, so I guess the teacher liked it," Henry replied proudly. Then he rolled his eyes and added, "But the next day a couple of girls in my class who saw you come back to pick me up were asking if you were my mom's 'hot' boyfriend or my stepfather...I think they forgot all about my speech."
"Really!?" Emma cried with sarcastically exaggerated annoyance at the exact same time that Killian choked slightly on a bite of bread.
Killian took a sip of water and coughed, then quipped, "Well, I'm sorry to have been a distraction, but I can't help being devilishly handsome."
Emma rolled her eyes, and Henry laughed.
"What's a stepfather?" Hope asked, her brow creased in confusion.
Shit, Emma thought. She wasn't mentally prepared to have the conversation get heavy. She and Killian had texted earlier about possibly sitting down with Hope after dinner to talk about how Killian was just their friend and not her father. They were going to see how tired and attentive she was after they ate and put it off until later if she seemed exhausted or cranky.
Henry shot Emma a guilty look, knowing he'd accidentally steered the conversation into the danger zone, but Emma just shrugged and answered Hope. "Well, like, if a mom had a child but then married a man who wasn't the child's dad, that new man would be the stepfather."
Hope still looked confused, so Emma gave an example. "Like, Henry's daddy was a man named Neal, but Neal is not around anymore, so if I married another man he would be Henry's stepfather."
"Ohhhhh," Hope said, "I get it. So if you marry Killian, he'd be Henry's stepfather."
Emma felt her face get hot with embarrassment but still managed to answer. "Well, yeah, but I'm not-"
"But he'd still be my daddy," Hope finished, matter-of-factly.
Emma sighed and put her fork down. She reached out to her little girl and took her hand. She glanced quickly at Killian and saw that he was watching her with admiration and a little embarrassment. He was quiet though, letting her take the lead.
"Sweetheart," Emma said. "Killian is our friend. He is really nice and funny, and we are very, very lucky that he moved in across the hall, but he is just a friend, not your daddy. Your daddy was a man named Frank, and he is not around anymore, just like Henry's daddy."
"Ooooooh, I get it," Hope said, doubt still in her voice. "Just in my dreams Killian's my daddy."
"Okay," Emma replied slowly. Was it okay? She wished she'd met with the child psychologist before having this conversation. Ultimately, she improvised; she was good at that. "Sometimes in our dreams, things can be different from the way they are in our real lives, and that's fine!"
"Right, like sometimes in my dreams I see scary things, but Daddy is there to protect me."
Emma winced; she wasn't sure she was getting through. Maybe it was best to just change the subject. She glanced at Killian, trying to signal him that he was free to jump in and help if he thought he could.
"That's good, love," he said kindly to Hope. "And it's true that you have a lot of people around to protect you, both in real life and your dreams."
Hope seemed to accept this, and she quietly nodded before picking up her milk and taking a sip.
Emma took the opportunity to change the subject. "Hope, Killian, what were you two drawing with the markers before dinner?"
Hope perked up immediately and replied, "It was Killian on his pirate (pie-wet) ship!"
"Oh, it's a pirate ship now?" Emma asked sardonically, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Well, apparently it's a bit more entertaining for the young lass to imagine I spend my workday on a pirate ship rather than teaching tourists about Revolutionary War history. I'm inclined to agree with her."
They all chuckled at that, and the mood at the table became more relaxed again. When Hope was full (it never took long), Emma let her go over to the living room to get her drawing so that she could show Emma and Henry.
She returned with a piece of light blue paper on which she'd drawn a fairly ship-like shape in brown marker. Standing on top of the ship was a stick figure man with black arms and legs and a red torso. His head was disproportionately large so that Hope had room to draw the dark beard she had given him. Also disproportionately large compared to the real thing was the hook that adorned the end of his left arm. She had used a gray marker for that attachment, and it was quite large and much more fierce looking than Killian's usual prosthetic.
"My goodness," Emma remarked. "He IS a pirate."
"Yup!" Hope agreed.
After the impromptu art show, Emma, Henry, and Killian cleared the table, and Henry offered to give Hope her bath so that Emma and Killian could clean up from dinner. Hope agreed to this plan only after eliciting a promise from Killian that he would read her a story before bed.
When the kids were gone, Emma and Killian set about cleaning up the small kitchen. They worked well together, despite the small space, and Emma didn't mind the forced close proximity to him. In fact, after their embrace the previous night, she had to admit that she'd been nervously looking forward to any chance she might have to be alone with him this evening. Every accidental arm brush or hip bump gave her a little thrill that made kitchen clean up a MUCH more enjoyable experience than it usually was.
As they finished up, Killian nodded to indicate something on the back corner of the counter. "Lady Hope's butterfly jar was a casualty last night, I see."
Emma sighed and looked at the broken jar. The plastic was still detached from the base, and the little stick on which the butterfly rested had come loose. "Yep. I'm not too worried about it. I would throw it out, but with my luck, as soon as I did Mrs. X would stop by for a visit and want to see it." She rolled her eyes.
Killian laughed. "I might have some super glue across the hall if you want me to fix it?"
"No, it's fine. I'll get to it at some point. Hope seems to have forgotten about it for the moment."
They settled on the couch to continue chatting. Emma still marveled at how easily this man made her laugh. The cynical part of her brain continued to feel like she should be rolling her eyes at Killian's accent and gentlemanly language. It was cheesy, right? Who talked like that? But everything about him was so genuine, she couldn't help but just relax and enjoy his stories and his jokes.
Henry and Hope joined them in a little while. Hope was clean and clad in her blue and pink Elsa and Anna pajamas. The little girl strode into the living room carrying another favorite Elephant and Piggie book. She climbed into Killian's lap and he began to read, repeating the charming character voices he had done the last time he'd read to her.
Emma and Henry settled in with their phones, with Emma checking and responding to work emails.
And it was all beautifully, perfectly normal.
On Thursday at work, Killian finished a re-enactment for a particularly rowdy group of middle-schoolers and returned to the museum building to check his phone. He had received a text from Emma saying that she needed to go to a work dinner this evening at seven, but that Henry had an activity at school that might run past that. She wanted to know whether he could could come over after work to stay with Hope until Henry got back.
He hurriedly texted back that of course he could, and then felt light as a feather the rest of the day because she trusted him this much, and because he was getting to see them again tonight.
Hope's nightmares continued to be a cloud over all of them, but according to another text from Emma, she had been fine the night before and now had slept peacefully for the last two nights in a row.
He hadn't felt the need to tell Emma about his own dream. He had reasoned that his dream of being pushed over a cliff while protecting Hope had been just a coincidence, borne of his new relationship with the child. Obviously he cared for her, and she was going through a rough patch, so he was worried about her and feeling protective, like a father would. Plus, fears of falling were a common subject of nightmares. Mentioning the dream to Emma when it seemed like they might be able to start moving past it just seemed unnecessary.
He finished up his workday with an inspection of the ship, making sure all the tour equipment was put away and that the sails were properly tied down. He jogged to the T to make sure he got home in plenty of time for his babysitting gig.
When Emma answered his knock at 6:50, she was already dressed to leave, wearing a tied black trench coat that covered her outfit. The coat fell to a few inches above her knee, and her legs and feet were bare. She had done her hair, which fell loose down her back in big blonde curls, and she was wearing much more makeup than normal.
She was an absolute knockout, and when she opened the door, he was speechless.
"Um, hiiiii?" she said helpfully, smirking at the fact that he was obviously stunned.
He cleared his throat and replied, "Uh, hello. You look..."
"I know," she quipped, then turned to help Hope with something at the table.
The little girl had obviously been finishing her dinner, and she was already dressed in her pajamas.
"Hi Killian!" she called.
"Hello, lass," he replied cheerfully, trying to resist sneaking another look at Emma. Something was bothering him. "What was for dinner, love?"
"Um, chicken nuggets," Hope answered thoughtfully, studying the remnants on her plate as if she had already forgotten what she'd been eating. "And grapes." That came out 'gwapes' of course, and Killian marveled once again at how funny and charming he found this child's every word and gesture.
"Ah, we can't forget the grapes!" he agreed, sitting down next to her at the table.
Emma continued to flit around the apartment packing up her purse and stepping into extremely high black heels.
Killian's unease deepened until he finally figured it out the cause, barely resisting giving himself a slap on the forehead over what an idiot he was.
"Okay," Emma said, coming over to Hope and kissing her forehead. "She's had her bath, she's obviously been fed...she just will need help brushing her teeth, and I usually have her down around eight. Henry might even be back by then, so he can take care of bedtime if that's easier."
"No I want Killian to read to me!" Hope cried.
"Of course, love, I'll read as many books as you'd like," he told her dotingly.
"Ha! It's your funeral," Emma snorted.
Emma went to the door to leave, and after winking at Hope who was sipping the last of her milk, Killian followed her to say goodbye.
"So I'll just be down by Park Street at a restaurant, but my phone will be on."
"Swan," he started, needing to know for sure. "May I ask? This work dinner...are you going on a date?"
Emma rolled her eyes and pulled him closer to the door, out of Hope's earshot. "A fake date," she whispered impatiently. "Sometimes the easiest way to get to these guys is with a phony Tinder profile. I should have this asshole in custody by 8:30."
Killian didn't want to be an overprotective jerk, but he couldn't help the way his stomach twisted with worry, and he knew that he was furrowing his brow as he looked down, unable to meet her eyes.
Emma's tone was kind as she patted his arm. "Killian, don't worry. It's fine. I've been doing this for years." She paused for a moment then added, "And I promise, my next real date is still going to be with you."
At that he looked up and met her eyes, and he couldn't help his goofy smile as he saw the saucy smirk on her face, which was tempered with an underlying sweet shyness in her eyes.
"That's a deal then!" he replied.
Emma smiled more broadly, stole another glance at Hope, squeezed his arm once more, and left.
The rest of his and Hope's evening was wonderful, even if he did keep glancing at his phone awaiting updates from Emma. After dinner, he gently cleaned the ketchup and grape juice off of Hope's face and served her a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream. She was happy enough about the ice cream, but she also kept mentioning how she had decided that she loved cookies and cream more than vanilla.
"I really like cookies and cream now that's my favorite (flavo-wit)" she repeated several times. Killian assured her that children who reached the wise old age of three-and-a-half were entitled to this more refined palate for ice cream flavors. Of course, this didn't stop Hope from finishing the vanilla in a matter of a couple minutes, going so far as to pick up the small plastic bowl and try to drink the melted residue from the bottom. After he cleaned her face from that mess, she bounced out of her chair and announced that she was ready for a sword fighting lesson.
Killian knew that adding play-fighting to sugar was probably a bad combination before bed, so he compromised by asking if she had any books about pirates. After a quick stop at the bathroom to brush her teeth, she led him into her room where they found a large, colorful adaptation of the Disney Peter Pan film, and they settled in to read it on her small bed. Hope was still wound up from the excitement of having Killian there to babysit, and it was all he could do to keep her from jumping off the bed in pretend flight just as Wendy, John, and Michael flew in the story.
However, as the book progressed, she returned to her spot next to him and snuggled into his side as he read. Killian had his right arm around the girl and his left awkwardly supporting the large book, so he had no way to turn the pages. Without him having to ask, Hope seemed to notice this dilemma and dutifully turned the pages for them each time he nodded to her that he was done. They made a great team and easily fell into a rhythm.
However, when they got to the point in the story when Pan's first confronts Captain Hook, a strange look crossed Hope's face and she said, "I don't think I want to read this anymore."
"OK, love. Is it getting too scary?"
"Nah, I just don't think I like Peter Pan. I thought he was nice, but he's not."
Killian studied her, confused at why she would suddenly be bothered by a character in a story she knew, but he decided not to push. In the end she settled on another book, the Boston-set classic Make Way for Ducklings. When Killian got to the end of it, Hope was yawning heavily, and Killian moved off the bed so that he could properly tuck her in.
"Goodnight, little lass," he said, gently pushing her hair away from her face as she snuggled into her pillow and covers. "Sweet dreams."
"Yeah, sweet dweams," she replied sleepily. "But if not it's okay because you'll be there to pwo-tect me."
"Aye, love, that I will."
Henry had texted Killian that he'd be home around nine from his event at school (it was a meeting for the staff of the school's literary magazine) and he was true to his word. They chatted cordially when he arrived; about school, about Hope, and a little about Emma's unusual job. Henry had some work to do on his laptop at the dining table before bed, and Killian asked if he'd mind if he stayed there until Emma got home.
"You mean like, in case Hope has another nightmare?"
"Aye. I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that on your own."
"Makes sense. Thanks." Henry paused thoughtfully then added, "You and my mom haven't had the talk with her yet, have you? About how you're not really her dad?"
Killian winced. "We have not, I'm afraid. However, I'm not sure that she really does believe what she says about me sometimes. It might just be a product of her confused mind when she awakens from one of those bloody dreams."
"Mmm," Henry replied thoughtfully, and Killian got the sense that he wasn't convinced. However, he let it drop. Killian ran across the hall to his place to get the novel he'd been reading and settled on Emma's couch when he returned.
Henry went to bed at 10:30, and Killian received a strange text from Emma shortly thereafter.
E: Hey, do you have frozen peas at your place?
K: No, I don't believe so, why?
E: Shit. You're not still at my place are you?
K: I am
E: OK, can you check freezer? I can't remember and might have to stop at store
Killian jumped off the couch and opened the freezer to find that she did indeed have a bag of frozen peas.
K: You have a bag of peas.
E: OK good. Just got to my car. Be home in 20.
K: Is everything ok?
E: Eh. This guy was some MMA cocksucker. Clocked me in the eye. Motherfucker.
E: Sorry. I'm pissed.
Killian was shocked. He'd been worried about her of course, but he hadn't actually expected her to be injured. Suddenly, he wanted very badly to find her Tinder date skip and and beat his face into a bloody pulp. Instead, he took a breath and replied.
K: Understandable. See you soon. Please drive safely. The kids are fine, and the peas and I will be here waiting for you.
E: OK
There was a slight pause, and then she sent another message with just a single pink heart emoji, and Killian's own heart skipped a beat at the sight of it.
Emma walked through the door 25 minutes later, and Killian jumped off the couch to greet her and assess her injuries. She was still wearing her black trench, but now it was hanging open to reveal a very form fitting red dress with a plunging v neck. The curls in her hair had mostly relaxed, and there were some wild tendrils around her face. Her lipstick had rubbed away, but the rest of her makeup was pretty well in tact. All in all, she still looked achingly beautiful except for the half-dollar sized purplish welt that had appeared on the cheekbone below her right eye.
She rolled her eyes at what must have been his stricken expression. "I know, I know," she said. "But you should see the other guy!" She stepped out of her heels and shrugged out of the trench, throwing it over the back of a chair. She went into the kitchen, grabbed the peas from the freezer, and with a sigh of relief, sat down at one of the dining chairs to apply the frozen bag to her injury.
"How were the kids?" she asked, as if she hadn't been in a fight tonight and everything was completely normal. "Henry texted me that he got home around nine. Did Hope really go to bed for you okay?"
"Yeah, they were great. Really wonderful," he said sincerely, sitting down at the dining chair next to her and craning his neck so that he could get a look at her eye.
She pulled the peas away and stuck her cheek towards him. "It's fine, here, look. This asshole had skipped out on the bail his wife posted for him and was out looking to get laid. I can't freaking believe how often that happens. I had a bio on him, but it failed to mention that he'd recently taken up MMA. He bolted from the restaurant bar when I told him who I really was, but I caught up to him outside and told him his car was already being towed. He whirled on me and started punching. I dodged the first one, but he caught me with a left. Luckily, I already had my taser in my hand, so he paid for it with a shock to the gut. Started crying like a baby." Emma smirked to herself as she finished.
Killian had pretty much been in awe of this woman since he met her, but listening to her describe her altercation with this scumbag pretty much cinched it for him that she was the most amazing person he'd ever met. He smiled at her.
"Well, it sounds to me like Emma Swan always gets her man."
"She does," she replied, cocking her eyebrow flirtatiously and then wincing at the pain that caused the rest of her face. Killian winced in sympathy and then gently took the bag of peas from her and applied it to her bruise so that she could rest her arm.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
As he iced her bruise, he filled in a few more details about his evening with the kids, and then they fell into a companionable silence.
He had scooted a little closer to her to apply the frozen peas, and as she relaxed, she stretched her legs out a little so that they rested between his, and the outside of her calf grazed the inside of his as she moved. Even through his jeans, the touch of her bare leg was electric, and suddenly he was acutely aware of what she was wearing; the tightness of her dress and the way the sides of its deep v-neck cut across her shapely breasts.
He realized that he was going to need to create some distance between them before he embarrassed himself and needed a bag of frozen peas for his lap.
He removed the bag from her face as gently as he could and inspected the injury. It was still discolored, but less swollen. He backed up his chair a little, and she straightened in hers, her tired state of relaxation broken by his movements.
"I think the swelling has gone down quite a bit," he said hoarsely.
She gently tapped at the injury with her fingers and nodded. "Yep, feels okay. Hopefully I can cover it with concealer in the morning. I always hate to have the kids see any bumps or bruises I get at work."
He gazed at her, marveling once again how she could be both a warrior out in battle each day and this soft, funny woman he knew her to be at home around her children.
His heart was full for her, and he was torn between a very real desire to simply declare his undying devotion and the knowledge that he needed to give her time and space lest she raise her walls again.
He stood a little awkwardly and said, "I should let you get to bed. I imagine it's been a long evening."
There was a little confusion in her eyes at his sudden move to depart, and he felt bad about that. Her smile was genuine and grateful though. "Yeah, I want to check on the kids and get some sleep."
She walked him to the door and yawned as he turned to say goodnight.
"I hope you don't have to rise too early tomorrow," he said.
"Actually, I can sleep in as long as Hope lets me. Max said to take the whole day off since I had a crappy night tonight. Henry's going to school, but I'm going to keep Hope home. We have that appointment at three..."
Killian nodded, remembering that she had scheduled an introductory appointment with a child psychologist.
"But I might take her out to do something fun in the morning. Maybe you could join us, if you're around?"
"Ah, that's great! I'm off tomorrow too," he replied, with probably a little too much excitement. "A big school trip cancelled, so they're expecting a slower day and didn't need the whole crew." He felt himself blushing, knowing how excited he sounded to be invited to Emma's outing with her daughter.
"Well, you should come with us, then!" Her smile and enthusiasm seemed genuine.
"I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with Lady Hope," he replied.
"Oh please. She'd be over the moon to get to spend more time with you." She paused and took his hand a little tentatively. "I'd like it too. You should come. If you want to." She finished the words with a shy shrug, and he was finally convinced.
"Well then I'd be honored."
"Perfect, I'll text you in the morning and we can figure out a plan." She squeezed his hand again. "Goodnight Killian."
"Goodnight Swan," he replied. But she didn't release his hand, so he made no move to go.
After a moment, she stood on her tiptoes and lightly brushed his cheek with her lips.
Suddenly, images flashed in his head. It was similar to the feeling of deja vu he'd felt on the day he'd first met Emma and her family. The images were brief, just glimpses, but he recognized Emma in each one, leaning up or standing on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. The surroundings were unfamiliar. A street in a town that was not Boston. A kitchen he didn't recognize.
Then, the instant she pulled away, the images were gone. She stood before him and looked up at him with a confused expression then seemed to shake herself and just smiled.
He did his best to compose himself, nodded a final goodnight, and left.
The next morning, Emma packed a cooler with sandwiches, fruit, and drinks and drove herself, Hope, and Killian over to Jamaica pond. September was waning, and Fall was starting to make its presence known in New England. They were all dressed in jeans, light sweaters and jackets, and on Hope, Emma had put a knit pink beanie that only slightly covered her soft blonde curls.
They left the cooler in the car at first, only grabbing a nearly empty bag of bread they had brought before walking down to the path by the pond. Hope walked between them, holding hands and insisting that they swing her between them every few steps.
When they arrived at the waterside, Hope was delighted to see that there were some ducks swimming close to shore, and Emma hurriedly helped her pull out a piece of bread so that she could tear it up and feed them. The little girl made a point of meticulously breaking the bread into equal sized pieces "so that it was fair," she said. When she stepped to the edge, Killian leaned down and placed his hand on her left shoulder to keep her safe as she threw each piece into the water with gusto. Hope squealed with delight as the ducks hurriedly swam over to get their meal.
When the bread was gone, they strolled around the pond some more, and Hope was delighted with every new bird they saw. They pushed her on the swings at a nearby playground, and when it was lunchtime Killian went back to the car to get their cooler of food.
They ate an early lunch on a bench back by the pond, Hope constantly giggling at a corny jokes that Killian made. Emma couldn't help but reflect as she watched them that this was how it was supposed to be. This was how a real man acted with a sweet, innocent child that adored him. How could it be true that Hope's real father was off living it up in New York and had never even seen her? How was Emma going to explain that to her daughter one day, maybe even one day soon if that's what the psychologist suggested?
Emma was not a religious person nor even a particularly optimistic one. However, that morning as she watched Killian dote on Hope like she was the single most important person in the world, she wondered if maybe the universe had realized that it owed one to Emma Swan and was finally paying up.
Hope dozed off in the car on the way home, and Emma and Killian chatted easily until the subject of Hope's afternoon appointment came up. Emma was nervous about it, and she wanted to share her feelings with him, but she didn't want to bring up any of his guilt at being the cause of Hope's issues.
"It's just an introductory appointment," Emma explained to him. "She meets with me alone, and then spends a few minutes with the two of us together. She might have Hope draw pictures or something I guess, anything that gets her to express what's going on.
"Aye, I see," he said quietly, looking down.
"Killian, listen," she said firmly, looking at him since they were stopped at a red light. "Whatever is going on with her and these dreams is probably related to a whole host of things, but it's not you. My main concern is finding out what kind of stress could have been causing them. I'm glad you're in our lives. I know it's a good thing, no matter what."
He finally looked over at her and she held his gaze firmly until he nodded back, taking so long that the car behind them started to honk because the light had changed.
When they got back to their building, Killian carried a sleepy Hope back upstairs. Emma watched and listened as he sang softly to the sleepy little girl on their way up to the third floor:
No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I'm wishin' to be ownin'
Just a-carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean
Emma opened the front door quietly when they reached the top, and Killian gently carried Hope to the couch. "We're home, little lass. Time to wake all the way up," he urged gently as she rubbed her eyes.
"We're home?" she mumbled.
"Yes, love. Mom wants you to wash up in the bathroom."
"Okay, Daddy. Will you carry me?"
Killian looked up at Emma guiltily before replying, and Emma could only shrug. They were going to deal with it. It was going to be okay.
Hope threw her arms around his neck as he picked her up, and she nuzzled her face into his neck. Emma caught Killian closing his eyes for a moment. He looked reverent and overwhelmed by emotion. This had to be confusing and scary for him too.
He carried Hope to the bathroom and helped her wash her hands, and then Emma came back to tell her that they had to change clothes for their appointment. Killian took his leave then, happily accepting a warm goodbye hug from Hope and a promise from Emma that she'd talk to him tonight about how the appointment went.
As it turned out, it went fine. Dr. Li was young and thoughtful and kind, and she easily developed a rapport with both Emma and Hope. At the beginning of the meeting, Dr. Li introduced herself to Hope. She sat down so that she was eye level with the little girl and spoke to her sweetly but not condescendingly. Dr. Li showed Hope some of the toys in the room, and then pointed her to a child sized table full of paper and crayons. Dr. Li's assistant stayed in the room with Hope as she colored, and Emma followed Dr. Li into her office.
Once there, Emma gave Dr. Li the full history of Hope's nightmares: the nights when she woke screaming, he refusal to nap at school, and finally her fear for Killian and periodic references to him as her father.
Dr. Li acknowledged that the severity of Hope's nightmares was unusual and that she would spend some time over the course of their sessions trying to find out more about the content of the dreams. She also seemed comfortingly nonplussed about Hope having called Killian "Daddy" on a few occasions.
"It's a tough balance," she told Emma sympathetically. "You don't want to confuse or mislead a child. However, it's not necessarily a bad thing that she feels like she found someone to fill a role for her." She paused then asked delicately, "Is Killian someone that you feel you might continue a relationship with, so that he might be in your lives for a while?"
Emma blushed but admitted, "Yeah, I think he and I both would want that. Even though we technically haven't even been on a date yet."
Dr. Li smiled kindly, "Then I think you should address it with Hope gently and subtly. Make sure she hears you and Henry refer to Killian as a friend or your neighbor as often as you can. Remind her of the day that you met him. Don't feel like you have to have a big talk about who he is to her, because chances are, if she feels confronted, she'll just dig in and hold more stubbornly to her fantasy."
Emma nodded with relief. That all made sense to her. They could do that.
After a while, Dr. Li and Emma both returned to the room where Hope had been waiting. Dr. Li sat down next to the little girl and spent some time talking to her about her drawings. The doctor had explained to Emma that, in future sessions, she might expressly try to get Hope to draw her nightmares in order to spur a discussion about them. For now, though, she hadn't given her any instructions since they were just trying to get her comfortable in the office and with Dr. Li.
"Wow, Hope, this is really beautiful," Dr. Li praised as she picked up the drawing Hope had been working on when they got there. "Is this your house?"
From her chair next to Dr. Li, Emma curiously craned her neck so that she could see the drawing. It looked like a grey house with some stick figure people standing out front. In the background of the house, Hope had drawn blue waves to indicate the ocean or a lake.
"I don't knooooowww," Hope replied thoughtfully to Dr. Li, who looked questioningly at Emma.
"We live in an apartment building," Emma clarified.
"Ah. Is this somewhere that you used to live?" Dr. Li asked Hope.
"Maybe. I'm not sure," Hope replied. "I think it's just our house."
Emma was confused. Dr. Li tried a different tack. "Who did you draw in the picture?" she said.
Hope pointed to the figures and replied, "That's me, Henry, my mom, and Killian. He's my daddy...sometimes."
Emma's gut twisted. The doctor had eased her mind before, but Emma hated to think that her little girl was this confused.
"And when is he your daddy, Hope?"
"Um, when we live in this house. And when the mean lady comes for me. He's there to protect me."
Dr. Li gave Emma a reassuring smile. She seemed to be pleased that they were getting this much out of Hope this soon.
"Does the mean lady come for you at night, in your dreams?" Dr. Li continued.
"Yeah, but I think it's real though. I don't know." She sighed and dropped her shoulders, clearly getting a little frustrated with the questioning.
"Okay. Thanks, Hope. Thanks for sharing this drawing with me. I'm going to see you again next week and maybe we can draw some more. Is that all right?"
"Sure," Hope replied and stood to hold Emma's hand. She seemed to be ready to go home.
As they said their goodbyes to Dr. Li, Emma glanced down again at Hope's drawing. She had a better view this time, and she could clearly make out a white fence against the green yard, and some lines to indicate steps and a wide front porch. Suddenly, Emma could see the house in her mind. Not the drawing, but the real place, stately and beautiful and home. The vision was gone in a flash, and Emma shook herself back to normal before smiling once more at Dr. Li and leaving.
That night after Hope went to bed, Emma left her in Henry's care and went across the hall to fill in Killian on their session with the psychologist. She was wearing jeans and a thin sweater, certainly nothing fancy, so she was a little embarrassed to find that he was wearing a nice button-down shirt with his jeans and had put out a lovely spread of cheese, fruit and crackers in anticipation of her visit.
"I hope you don't mind," he said, scratching behind his neck as she surveyed the food neatly arranged on his coffee table. "I thought we might have some snacks while we talked. I also have some wine...or beer if you prefer?"
"Wine would be great," Emma replied, already looking forward to the opportunity to relax.
He went into the kitchen and began to open a bottle of red.
As he gracefully poured two glasses, she couldn't resist teasing him a little. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this felt a little like a date."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, it is."
"Really?" she chided.
"Really. Come on, love, if we limited our dates to quiet dinners, we'd never even get one."
She blushed a little at the truth of that.
He handed her the wine and they gently clinked their glasses in a toast before settling in on the couch.
She filled him in on the appointment, including a description of Hope's drawing. She withheld any mention of the flash of deja vu that she got when looking at Hope's interpretation of 'their' house, however.
"Emma," Killian said seriously. "I am glad that the doctor felt that it was okay for me to still have a presence in your lives. But, if at any time, you or she feel that it's in Hope's best interest for me to step aside, I would do so in an instant."
"I know you would, Killian. Believe me, if I thought it was better that way, I would ask you to. But I know that it's not. We're going to figure this out together."
He nodded, and she could see the emotion in his eyes. She placed her glass down on the coffee table and took his hand.
"Please," she said. "None of this is your fault. And we're keeping you for as long as you'll have us."
He chuckled at that and nodded. "Well thank you, kind lady. I must admit, I haven't had the chance to be around a family in a very long time. I think that I would quite miss yours if I had to leave you all alone."
The haunted sadness she noticed when she first met him had returned to his blue eyes.
"Will you tell me about your family, Killian? Where they are or what happened to them?"
He nodded, releasing her hand briefly to take a sip of wine. When he brought his hand back to his lap, she took it again and he smiled.
"I have very little memory of my parents. My mother died when I was five, and shortly thereafter my father left my brother Liam and me with some cousins who were not thrilled about taking us in. They used us mostly for chores and to get extra dole money."
"Oh Killian, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. I was lucky to have Liam. He was seven years older than me, and he was brave and strong no matter what life threw at him. When he was sixteen and I was nine, we moved in with the family of his girlfriend at the time. They were kind to us, and even after Liam joined the navy when he turned eighteen, they allowed me to stay with them instead of going to an orphanage."
Emma nodded, tears in her eyes as she remembered spending her own childhood wishing that somebody had wanted her.
Killian smirked as he continued to reminisce. "Of course, I was an ungrateful little shit and without Liam there to guide me, I turned into a hellion. Drinking and stealing and getting into all kinds of trouble until Liam had to come home and beat some sense into me after my last arrest. In the end, I lied on some paperwork in order to join the navy early. I was deployed to my brother's ship, and I shaped up and became a passable sailor."
He looked wistful and sad when he talked about his brother, and Emma braced herself for what she knew must be coming.
"I lost Liam during an exercise on the North Sea," he said quietly. "It was storming and the waters were too rough. The conditions were awful, and I knew that our ship was too small to handle drills that day. The waves were as high I had ever seen them. We couldn't see shit. It was like the end of the world. Liam was stubborn, though, and he followed orders. I was livid and convinced a few of the men to join me below deck before the drill was over. When we heard the commotion up top, we returned to find all the men scrambling, looking into the sea for Liam, who'd been tossed over when a large wave hit. I looked and looked. Even tried to dive overboard myself before they restrained me." He paused, obviously reliving the memory.
"Killian," Emma said softly. She squeezed his hand, just reminding him that she was still there. That she was there for him.
He nodded, gathering himself. "After I lost him, I fell back into my deviant ways. I was an absolute disgrace as a sailor. My captain never knew it, but I was half drunk on the day I lost my hand. I was an idiot. Made a terrible decision and tried to catch a sliding piece of machinery when all my training should have told me to get out of the way. My hand was crushed. We were far enough out that I had to rely on the ship's infirmary for too long...when I finally got to hospital, the hand was infected and couldn't be saved. After that I was discharged with a small disability pension. And I've basically been bouncing around ever since. Wasting time. No real use to anyone."
"I don't believe that, Killian," Emma told him, looking him in the eyes.
He shook his head slightly and looked away, ashamed.
She hadn't meant for this to happen when she asked about his family. He was reliving too many nightmares. Somehow she innately understood just how deep his self loathing ran, and now he was letting it creep back up to the surface and take hold. She could see it in his expression; in the way his shoulders slumped. It broke her heart.
So she tried again. She put her glass back down and scooted up onto her knees so that she was eye level with him.
"Killian. Look at what you went through. You lost your parents. Your brother. You suffered a terrible injury after all of it. Anyone would have broken under the strain. But look at you now. You're a good man. You prove it every day."
He searched her eyes. She could tell he wanted to believe her, but that doubt lingered.
"You didn't," he said sadly.
"What?" she replied.
"You didn't break, Swan. After everything that you went through. Everyone who let you down. You didn't become selfish, angry, or reckless. Instead, you became..." he couldn't finish. Instead he nodded at her with his chin as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
"What? You think because I held it together and got a decent job that I'm somehow better than you? I had to get through it. I had no choice, because of Henry and then Hope. I'm not a hero for that."
"Ah, but you are, Swan. When I look at you, that's what I see."
She blinked back the tears that were threatening. She hadn't meant for this to get so emotional. "Okay," she said finally. "So I'm a hero then. But so are you."
He scoffed.
"What? You are," she challenged. She considered him for a moment. "Why are you here right now?"
"What?"
"Why are you here with me right now on this couch? Are you just trying to get me into bed? Is this a ploy? Are you just another douchebag who pretends to be a nice guy so that he can fuck a 'challenging' woman and then move on?"
"Emma..." he warned.
"What? I deserve to know."
He rolled his eyes in frustration. "Of course not."
"Good. Because I know that's not you. I know that we're sitting here because you were concerned about my daughter, and that means something to me. More than you could ever know. I detect bullshit for a living, Killian, and there is no bullshit anywhere in the way you look out for that scared little girl, and for me and Henry. So please, please, accept that you are a good man, and that other people need you. Believe it. You deserve it."
"All right," he conceded, rolling his eyes up to look at the ceiling and then looking down to meet hers again. He smiled a little. "Fine. I believe it. Are you quite finished?"
She wasn't. Before she could think too hard about what she was doing, she leaned forward, took his face in her hands and kissed him. Hard.
She felt his surprise for just an instant, but then he was kissing her back and wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her closer. She smiled against him, enjoying the urgency of his response and the easy way their mouths fit together. Despite her impulsive move, there was no awkwardness or clumsiness to the kiss. They were naturals at this. After a moment, though, he pulled back and looked into her eyes, seemingly seeking confirmation that it was okay to continue. She met his eyes, nodded, and moved in for more.
Then he gently took control, opening her mouth with his tongue and sliding it against hers in a dance that slowly became sinful. She heard herself make a low sound in the back of her throat and he responded in kind. She dragged one hand down the front of his shirt, fingers brushing the dark hair peeking out of the open top buttons. She suddenly wanted to touch him everywhere...
Then, in an instant. She was somewhere else. Or rather, she was in a lot of places. With him. Her mind flashed with images, each one brief but vivid and each one more erotic than the last.
She was gripping the lapels of his leather coat and kissing the holy hell out of him in what looked like a jungle.
They were at a table in an outdoor cafe, in the dark, kissing slowly and languidly like they had all the time in the world.
They were on a couch in an unfamiliar house. He was seated and she was straddling his lap, grinding down on him, seeking delicious friction as he trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone and pulled down the front of her camisole so that he could palm her breast.
She was in an unfamiliar kitchen backed up against the counter. Her black robe was thrown open and she was naked underneath. One of her arms was bent, her elbow bracing her against the counter as she leaned back. Her other hand was in Killian's dark hair as he knelt on the floor in front of her, his head between her spread legs, making her hips buck in ecstasy with that incredible mouth.
She broke the kiss, pulling away with a suddenness that shocked Killian. She was panting, and her body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve was electrified. She glanced at Killian as she tried to gather herself. He looked as wrecked as she felt.
The throbbing ache between her legs was compelling her to climb astride him, to take what she needed. Somehow she knew beyond any doubt that he could make her feel the way that nobody else ever had. That he would have her spread before him and crying out with a kind of pleasure she'd never felt before. It wasn't just because of the intensity of the kiss, or the attraction that had been building between them for weeks. She knew it to be true, with as much certainty as she'd ever known anything.
How she'd missed this. Missed him.
That unbidden thought pulled her out of her reverie. She jumped up awkwardly and stood.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at her with guilt and confusion in his eyes.
She cast her eyes to the side. She knew her face was flushed, and she was suddenly aware of a lump in her throat and the sting of guilty tears in her eyes.
"No, I'm sorry!" she replied miserably. Her shoulders were tense, and she needed to ball her hands into fists in order to steel herself so that she could meet his eyes.
If she felt confused and guilty, he looked positively devastated. Not only were his pupils still dilated with desire, but he was visibly struggling to control his breathing. Worse (to her) every line on his forehead was a deep crease of worry. Clearly he felt he had pushed her too far.
"I came on too strong," he said, his voice barely more than an agonized whisper.
"No, I am sorry," she repeated, meeting his eyes firmly, needing him to understand. "I just, kind of lost control there for a second. I don't lose control like that, not ever. It caught me off guard, and I just can't. I have too much..."
The creases in his forehead lessened a bit, but his eyes were still confused and sad.
She sat back down on the couch, making sure to leave a good foot and half of space between them. "Really," she continued after a beat herself. "I like you. I wanted this. Hell, I started it. This feels right in a way I can't really explain. I just...I don't get to lose control. It's not me. I'm sorry."
She forced herself to hold eye contact, willing him to understand and to not hate her. Even if she herself didn't totally understand what had just happened.
She let herself feel a little relieved as his gaze softened, and he nodded slightly.
"I understand. It was too much, too fast. It's okay," he said with a small, slightly sad smile.
She nodded back and forced herself to smile. "I should go. Henry's probably waiting up."
"Of course."
She rose and walked towards the door and he followed to see her out.
"Emma," he said quietly.
She turned back to him, her hand already on the doorknob.
"However you want to do this, at whatever pace, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. And if you do decide you want or need to lose control, I just want you to know, your heart will be safe with me."
She stared at him for a beat. The sincerity that was always in his eyes shown through stronger than she had ever seen it. She was overwhelmed and could only nod again before the emotion welling up in her threatened to break free.
She hurried back to her own apartment and rushed through a nighttime routine. Her head was spinning, and she was dabbing at her eyes as she checked on the kids. She sat for a moment at Hope's bedside, making sure her daughter was sleeping peacefully.
She laid down in her bed knowing that sleep would be a long time in coming. Her body still hummed with desire, and her heart was racing. Her mind was racing too. She kept trying to understand or explain away the feelings, the images she'd had when she'd kissed Killian. Had she subconsciously been having all these fantasies about him and they all just bubbled to the surface tonight? Why had she made up all the places she seen in the flashes, places she'd never seen before?
She wanted to badly to continue believing that Killian was a gift to her and her kids; some kind of karmic payback from the universe for all the cruelty it had thrown at her over her 35 years. He was good to them. She cared about him. She wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anybody. And she believed him when he said that he would protect her heart.
But as she laid there, wanting so badly to hope for the best, she felt nagging fear and blooming certainty that something was off. There were just too many strange trends and coincidences; with Killian, with Hope and her nightmares, with all of them. She laid awake into the small hours, waiting for her daughter to wake up screaming. But once again, Hope slept in peace.