A/N: So we're back to shorter chapters and you're probably going to yell at me for it so... I already apologize in advance? There are hints towards some sexual content here but nothing worthy of calling M.
I'm not American but I am very thankful for my online besties and the best betas a girl could wish for acourtoftruelove and ofshipsandswans
And also very grateful for my artist shady-swan-jones Sophie has made four amazing picsets with which I couldn't be happier and of course her pretty banner I have the honor of using on every Tumblr post. Big love.
Emma walked across her apartment, heading for her desk and the metal cabinet that stood next to it. Pulling open the second drawer, she grabbed a maroon folder out of it. She leafed through it, through what was her personal version of Killian's record, aspects of his history. A summary of how his life had gone and was currently going. She removed the pictures of him, unguarded and unsuspecting in the distance, taking them in, the uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. Causing ache there. After what happened two weeks ago, she'd been thinking more. Struggling more.
He was so open with her, so kind and real. What could she offer him in return? Lies and half-truths?
Emma bit her lip, looking at the file as if she'd seen a sad movie, as if she could see in bright color and vivid detail how this all would play out on the cover of the hard paper. A tragedy waiting to happen.
Maybe she should just move back to Boston.
She'd be out of Gold's reach and out of Killian's vicinity as well. Gold would not be able to hurt her or her career and she would not be able to hurt Killian.
But that left Killian to fend for himself.
And Gold to take out his anger on Killian.
She couldn't leave. No matter how much she wanted it.
She'd put herself into this situation and she wasn't going to quit before she found a solution that would benefit them both, that minimized the hurt that came their way. A clean shot without any casualties, without collateral damage.
She owed him that much.
The guilt in her stomach was making room for actual hunger, a low whirring inside growing into a loud groan before Emma realized it had been hours since she'd last had a meal. So consumed with all of her troubles that she'd forgotten to take care of herself.
Her socked feet walked towards the fridge, a sense of anticipation as she approached but when she opened it, she was only met by disappointment. All of the nutritional items from her fridge had either vanished into the trash because they'd expired or had been used in the last dish Emma made yesterday. She had nothing but a can of kidney beans—she was somewhat confused why she owned a can of that when she didn't even like them—and an onion.
She sighed, letting her fingers comb through her hair, which had an awful lot of knots in it. She was in no state to take a trip to the grocery store, dreading the judging looks if she turned up with the messy bun she'd put her hair in to make it look less greasy and in sweatpants. She'd have to go out at this time of night—okay, evening—walk to and back from the shop, encounter many last-minute shoppers and be stuck in the line, and afterwards, she would still have to cook and wait for her dinner to be ready.
Considering all of that , the decision was easy to make.
Takeout it was.
She took out her file of menus and spread them all over her coffee table—an array of different cultures and countries gathered on the small rectangle in her living room—Emma scrutinizing and considering every one. After some introspective thinking of what her taste buds yearned for, she ruled out Italian and hamburgers and a couple more options and was left with either Chinese or Thai. Pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes, hand alternately looming above both folders, Emma attempted to make a final choice.
But before she could, the doorbell rang.
Emma looked up from the coffee table, a frown etched on her face.
She wasn't expecting anything, no packages and certainly not any visitors, and unless the Chinese place had a long distance mind reader hired that, just this instant, had received her mental order of chow mein, she doubted that was a possibility either.
Emma used her knees to stand up, pushing her entire weight onto her two joints and getting up in one swift movement. She walked towards the door, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was not wearing a bra and stopped to snatch a sweater off the jacket rack to cover her quite revealing tank top with.
Now, a knock sounded at her door, a rhythmic tapping ruling out the likelihood of it being a door-to-door salesman. They weren't that adamant or enjoyable as company .
"Coming!" Emma yelled, zipping up the blue hoodie until only a sliver of her chest could be seen, until she felt slightly more modest and presentable.
Her hand took the handle and unlocked the door, pulling it open to reveal a smiling Killian leaning against the doorway as if he owned it, a white plastic bag in his hand with a smell coming from it that was absolutely amazing.
"Evening, Swan."
"Hi?" Emma replied, the greeting hesitant and confused. She ransacked her mind for some agreement or meeting she'd forgotten about, for some lost message that had announced him being on the move to her.
He didn't pick up on her bewilderment—or chose to ignore it, not granting her any clue or explanation as to why he was currently standing in front of her apartment. He only leaned closer to her, his dark chest hair peeking above the rim of his shirt courtesy of the top two buttons that were left undone.
"Are you by any chance hungry?" He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "Because I brought Chinese food." The bag got lifted to showcase all of the goods inside.
Leave it to him to guess she was hungry and desired Chinese food.
"Did you read my mind?" she asked, thinking that maybe he was the one with the sixth sense.
"I'm a very talented man, Swan. Mind-reading, however, doesn't belong to my CV."
"Well, very coincidentally I'm actually starving and was just about to order takeout, so perfect timing." She opened the door further. "Come on in."
He pushed himself off the border, the smugness oozing from the movement and his expression. How he switched from cocky bastard to shy pumpkin from day to day would remain a mystery to Emma. Not that she was complaining.
At all.
She'd gotten to this state where Killian made everything better. Being with him, spending time with him made her happy enough to forget her own troubles for a moment. It made her focus on the here and now, and not on some looming future or haunting past.
She was also really happy his trace of sorrow had completely vanished, he seemed lighter than ever, the tread was floating. He was bantering.
"Aren't you going to ask what else I'm really talented in?"
Flirting.
He walked towards her kitchen and set the food on the counter, the combination of the mundanity of his actions and the challenge in his words stunning Emma.
Instead of replying, she just rolled her eyes, sighing along, pretending to be annoyed to hide the swirl of heat inside of her.
"Grab some plates," she ordered. "I'm going to get changed."
"Why would you do that, Swan. I, for one, think you look lovely." And that damned smirk again.
Emma sneered and flipped him the finger before turning around and retreating into her bedroom. She took off her clothes, his presence on the other side of the door a constant reminder, especially after that comment.
She knew there was a mutual attraction between them; there were enough lingering glances and electric touches between them to prove that but neither of them had ever acted on it. She hadn't because of her double agent status and because it would just not sit right. She couldn't figure out why Killian hadn't, however. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first move, to take that first step. He would call it good form but Emma wished he'd damn it for once, forget about being a gentleman.
She wanted him to kiss her and she'd kiss back.
The regret would come instantly and would cause it to be a one-time thing but she would've known how it felt to press her lips against his, to breathe his air, to move as one.
All she'd have to do to find out was to open that door, eliminate that divide between them. Her skin flushed with heat just thinking of how his eyes would widen and darken, how he would lick his lips and approach, a predatory gleam surrounding him as he stalked closer and closer. He'd start by running a finger over her skin, a touch light as a feather to make her want, crave more. His hot breath following where his touch had been, hovering right above her but never touching, never giving her what she desired. Until he'd end up at her mouth, tracing the curve of her lips with the edge of his nail. Until their lips were only a breath from each other.
They'd stare at each other, see the desire and want grow in those green and blue eyes as they inhaled each other's air. As they inched closer, excruciatingly slow. When the briefest contact would take place, when that first spark would buzz through the air, all mayhem would break loose. Weeks of desire would overtake in that moment, leading to a moment of chaos, of blur with no idea where he ended and where she began.
Emma gasped for air as she left her little imaginary world. She reprimanded herself for getting carried away with her fantasies. She had to get over it, forget there was even the slightest chance that they would hook up . She fished a new bra out of her drawer and put it on, hooking the ends together and pulling the straps over her shoulder. She grabbed a clean t-shirt, one with the Hogwarts logo on. The black, baggy sweatpants on her hips were staying on because they were just too comfy to take off. An extra whiff of deodorant to avoid any unpleasant odors and she was good to go.
Waving her hands to cool off her cheeks to not betray her moment of daydreaming that had just taken place, Emma attempted to regain her cool. She softly hummed some song that had played on the radio when her alarm clock had blared this morning as she made her way back to her living room, fresh and more or less clean. Her stomach let out another grumble and she gently patted it, soothing it, telling it that it would not have to suffer for long anymore.
Killian sat on the couch, back turned to her when she spotted him and as she made her way to sit next to him, the sound of her footsteps alerted him of her presence, causing him to partially turn and look up to her, a chaos of emotions drawn onto his features.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she continued the path she was walking.
Killian brusquely motioned towards the coffee table with his prosthetic, Emma's gaze following the gesture and seeing, between the dozen folders of restaurants, that same maroon folder she was flipping through earlier. Not closed and hidden under the menus, but strewn about between two neat stacks of pamphlets.
Her eyes widened again. In shock and in apprehension of what would follow.
She should've thought about that file and not get all flustered because Killian was here with food. She should've thought about hiding it again instead of fantasizing about him and being focused on making herself presentable. There was no way she could explain this to him in a way that made sense. A logical and solid explanation that would not be met with rage and betrayal.
"You know, I still talk quite frequently with my former colleagues back in Boston and when I mentioned your friend's name and no one seemed to recognize it or you, it didn't strike me as too odd, it is a big company after all. This file, however, explains why," he spit out, sloppily jerking it off the table and standing up to meet her stare.
"Killian." She raised her hands to try and placate, to request peace. "It's not what you think…"
"It's not?" He shot her words back, his voice all disbelief. "And how do you explain all of this? How do you explain the fact that I was cleaning up your table and found a file about me on it?"
"I—"
"You what?" His tone began to rise. He lifted a picture and waved it in her face. "This picture was taken when I went to the British Museum . We hadn't even met back then. We met weeks later. I'm guessing that wasn't a coincidence."
She was rendered immobile. She was standing there almost paralyzed, almost mute. She didn't know what to do. All the while, Killian was seething. She hadn't seen him like this before, his temper had always seemed perfectly suppressed and controlled.
But she'd betrayed him.
And he couldn't control it anymore.
"No," Emma said, "It wasn't a coincidence."
"So all this time that I thought we had so many things in common, you just read in this blasted file." He threw the folder on the ground and, for a couple of seconds, it slid on her floor before the force of the throw ejected all of the sheets and pictures, becoming a mosaic on the floor. "All this time that I thought that we were alike, you were just lying. Fucking lying."
Killian's hand balled and Emma could see the tension running through his jaw, the sheer force with which he was clenching his teeth together.
"No," she desperately interjected, despite all of her instincts telling her not to, to let him leave and take the ticking time bomb that was set to explode out of her apartment. She took a haggard breath. "I wasn't lying. The things I said weren't lies. Me being your friend wasn't a lie. I wanted to come clean, okay?"
"Oh well, thank you for at least considering. That makes everything perfectly acceptable."
One would have to be deaf not to hear the sarcasm embedded into every word, syllable, letter.
"Don't be like that."
A grimace appeared on Killian's lips. He was taking small steps backwards, preparing to leave and never to return. The only thing he'd know if he left was that she betrayed him. The only thing he'd think was that she was the worst person that roamed this earth. And she couldn't care less that others might think that and see her as a cold bitch but it broke her heart thinking about how Killian might. Enough for her to try and explain.
"I'm working for a Mr. Gold." Killian stilled and Emma cried victory inside of her. He was willing to listen and hear her out. All hope wasn't lost yet. "About four months ago, I was approached by one of his employees back in Boston. He had a job for me that paid really well. I took it. The job was to follow you and to gain as much information about you as possible."
Emma looked at all of her work—research she'd spent months and countless hours on—scattered on the floor. It was a very thorough investigation but she could only feel shame as she regarded it, the notes, the records, the anecdotes.
"That's why I had this." She motioned toward the ground. "No, our meeting wasn't entirely coincidental but it surely wasn't my goal to do this. I did know all of the things you told me already but that didn't keep me from wanting to get to know you."
A scoff sounded through the room.
"That was a very important piece of information to elide, Emma. I work for a bloody cupcake shop. How evil do you think I can be?"
"I know," she admitted. "but I had no choice. Gold made me sign a contract and the gist of it is that if I breach it, I'm in big trouble."
"Do you even know what he did? What he's capable of?"
"What do you mean?" Her forehead crinkled in a frown; she was unsure where Killian was going with this, what he knew about Gold that Emma didn't.
"You don't even know. God, I don't know if that makes it better or worse."
"Know what?" Emma replied, slightly snappy, as she got sick and tired of guessing as to what he was referring.
Killian didn't take her tone too well.
"He's murderer, Emma!" he yelled back. "A fucking murderer!"
What? Her ears began to ring.
"Remember Liam, the brother I was mourning that time in the pub? The person who we spent hours talking about when we were at Maggie's? Your dear Mr. Gold is the reason he's no longer here."
Emma failed to think of a reply as she was confronted with this new piece of information.
"Huh, so what? The big PI didn't even perform a background check on her new employer. Were you that desperate that you signed a contract with the actual fucking devil?" He grunted. "Why do I care? It's not like you did."
"Killian."
"I trusted you."
"I know but—"
"Leave it, Emma. Just fucking leave it."
One final look of disdain and Killian turned his back on her, heading straight for the door without a second glance. His steps sounded like the steady beat of heartbreak.
Her mouth opened to call him back and ask him to stay but she knew it was going to be to no avail, so Emma pressed her dry lips together again.
The silence overwhelmed her, the sound almost as loud and deafening as the thunderous crash of the door into its frame.
Yeah... I know what you're thinking: "it was too good to be true" and you're right, shit had to hit the fan at some point and that point is now :| I'll see you next week!