A/N: I'm busy studying so not a very elaborate note this time. Just taking the time to mention the amazing work that both my betas acourtoftruelove and ofshipsandswans have done to elevate this fic as well as my artist shady-swan-jones 's wonderful picsets that helped visualize this fic in such a great way. I owe a lot to them
The worst thing about it all were those split seconds, the tiny moments where she would forget everything that had happened, where her brain wasn't caught up with current events yet and she reached to grab her phone wanting to text Killian because it felt like a while since they had talked, wanting to share some video she saw, look for an event in her uneventful day to discuss, ask him whether Sven had gotten up to any antics recently before she realized she couldn't anymore. Before it would all come crashing down, wounding her that bit more in the process.
After he'd stormed out of her apartment a week ago, there had been a complete radio silence. No calls, texts; not one sign of life. He could be on vacation in Peru for all she knew, not even able to stand being in the same country, let alone the same city as her.
The cursor of her phone blinked in the empty text message she'd opened, trying to catch her attention as it waited for her to type and say something, anything to keep it from endlessly blinking. She could read the last couple of messages they'd sent, happy and friendly and after that, silence. White noise. But the message remained empty, Emma having no idea what she should type.
He hadn't said anything about her contacting him but she was quite sure it was out of the question after what she'd done. As if he'd share any kind of information, be it trivial or not, with the risk of her passing it onto Gold.
Perhaps, time would heal the wounds.
Maybe he'd miss her and choose to forgive her.
It all sounded very unlikely. Optimistic and far from how she normally thought. At this point, however, it was all she had. Hope.
God, Mary Margaret would be proud of her. Though, would she really be if she knew what Emma had done?
Emma didn't even have to think about the answer.
She let her head unceremoniously fall, ending up on the hard edge of her couch. Pain shot through her skull causing a flinch but she remained motionless, almost embracing the throbbing or at least too listless to remedy it. She stared at the ceiling, at the cracks that interfered with the off-white color of it, as if she could find an answer, the solution to all of her problems written in the water stains.
Sometimes she wished she believed in some sort of deity. That she could just pray for assistance, for repentance and someone would listen. Zeus was the closest she had to faith and that was highly ironical. Wishing on a star, birthday wishes, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Clause; it was all BS and little Emma had to find that out the hard way. Every time her tooth fell out and no coins magically appeared under her pillow. Every Christmas when the space below the tree—if she was lucky enough to have one—stayed bare. When every wish she'd made for her parents to come and rescue her from a terrible group home was left ungranted. After what she'd gone through, God, the universe, had abandoned her, so she had abandoned her belief.
With all its consequences.
Her phone chimed, Emma's neck almost snapping at the speed she stretched it again and took her phone, her fingers tapping the code to open it and again, when her hastiness caused it to be wrong.
A new message had been added to the previous thread.
Killian.
Her eyes sped over the letters, having to start over when the words didn't register in her mind but the moment they finally did, Emma wished they hadn't.
Killian: If I ever see you in my vicinity again, I am calling the cops. And don't try to call me, I am changing my number.
She let out the breath she was holding captive in her lungs, releasing it with a tremor.
Fair, it was all fair. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to be anywhere near her. She was working for his enemy; she, the one who had claimed and pretended she was on his side.
The worst part was that she was. Even if he didn't believe it, even if her actions may not have mirrored that, but she was willing to protect him, to fight injustice.
Maybe if she showed him that, if she openly defied Gold and all that he stood for, he'd be open to a conversation with her.
She hadn't told Gold about the problem yet; he was still unaware of the turn her relationship with Killian had taken, but if she just quit, without telling him about the compromisation of her position, she could keep Killian out of it.
And that was most important to her.
With a last glance over the cold and harsh words, Emma left the conversation with Killian and swiped into another one with G . as the recipient. This time, the cursor did not stand still, moving with determination as she typed in words she did not ponder over nor hesitated about.
Emma: We need to meet ASAP.
It was the first step in the right direction, to gaining Killian's forgiveness and righting all wrongs she'd done. After a minute or so, her phone alerted her of an answer to her initial text.
G: One does not summon me.
Emma rolled her eyes to the response. Why did he have to exert his authority like he was some sort of almighty wizard. With a scowl on her face, she replied.
Emma: Okay, then I might just turn up at any given moment, broad daylight, with everyone present to notice my presence. Does that work better for you?
Her unmoving gaze was trained on the screen, waiting for any sort of update but it remained absent. Emma was beginning to sweat, worried that she'd fucked it all up by being too direct, too daring and overestimating her power towards Gold. He had all of the cards in hand, if he chose not to answer, to leave her in the dark, she'd have nothing. No Killian, no leverage, no money, no job, no way to gain his trust again.
She swallowed against the dry insides of her throat.
Come on.
A breath of relief left her lips when a message popped up. It was short, straight to the point, missing the flare of dramatics Gold considered his trademark. He was probably pissed that she did summon him, blackmailed him even, but hey, she let him decide when and where. She left the ball in his court, so technically—technically was a dangerous word to use and rely upon when matters involved shady Gold—he chose the specifics and told her to be there.
G: The alley near Shoreditch Park, 10 pm.
A sweep of excitement went through her but was immediately quenched, smothered until there wasn't even a remnant of the sentiment left. The meeting meant she'd get the opportunity to encounter Gold but it also meant she had to meet Gold alone and vulnerable. This required preparation, and since the meeting was taking place in about four hours, this would have to be less subtle than usual. Scouting the location in advance would have no use and would only be a waste of time. She'd have to wing it.
Best case scenario: Gold came alone, unarmed, listened to what she had to say and let her leave in peace.
But Emma was never the optimistic type, her optimism long gone. It got her nowhere in life, so she tore it out, brutal and messy, like the situations it got her into. Realism was what she relied on now, on examining situations, calculating risks, figuring people out. Being realistic was the best thing to be in life. It did not bring any disappointment, nor did it bring miscalculations—a bitter, sour taste to life.
Worst case scenario: Gold would feel the storm brewing and instantly took her out.
She stared at the knife, shimmering in the light of her living room, reflecting it as she turned it, again and again, handling it as she handled the question of whether she'd bring it or not.
It said a lot if she went to a meeting with a knife. He could take it the wrong way and retaliate in ways Emma could not prevent with the little dagger she covered with her palm.
Gold's MO was mostly threats but Emma wasn't stupid enough to believe they were empty. He loved to threaten because he knew he had the power—both man and influence—to live up to the words he uttered in menace . Plus, she wasn't born yesterday; Gold was a backstabbing, conniving bastard. He'd do anything to make sure his path of burgeoning was undisturbed.
She stood up in one swift, decided moment, snatched the knife off the table and stashed it in one of the inner pockets of her leather jacket. Close enough for her to grab it in need, covert enough for Gold and his shadows not to be alarmed when they see her.
The clock shifted silently—how many people would have the same generic IKEA clock, she wondered—another tick closer to Gold's chosen time.
-/-
He met her stare head-on, his dark eyes challenging her. A leer crept on his face as he approached, making Emma step back in caution, hand tightening in her pocket around the knife on the inside of her jacket. Gold wasn't a tall man nor did he possess a lot of muscle power. Emma could take him down or outrun him without breaking a sweat but there was something in his attitude, in the way he stepped and the way he watched her that scared the shit out of her. A dark force, an unknown power loomed in the shadows behind him and Emma couldn't figure out if it was just fortunate lighting or whether there was something else going on. Something dangerous. She had no desire to find out so she inched backwards even more, step by step, until her heel and shoulders hit a hard surface.
He got her where he wanted.
She was readying herself to knock him out, a quick but powerful punch against his face to give her the opportunity to run but as he neared, he simply took one look at her midriff and began smiling. His clawy hand reached out, Emma eyeing its movement warily, and plucked the small dagger out of her pocket.
Busted.
"A knife, Ms. Swan?"
He tutted at her like a teacher might reprimand a child, shaking his head and moving an accusing finger along with it.
"I come here on your terms and you bring a knife." He dangled it in front of her, baiting her, challenging her to defy him and snatch it out of his hold. She knew better than to, however. She wouldn't fall for his tricks. "What does that make me think?"
"It was for protection."
"Protection from what?" He played coy. "Oh, Emma. You do know that I'd never hurt one of my esteemed employees. I'm clean." He threw the knife away, out of her reach and, which was a relief, out of his as well. It clattered on the concrete of the street. His hands rose into the air. "Do you want to check," he added with a tone that made Emma's skin crawl and made her pity any woman that ever had to endure his advances.
"I'm good," she replied, not even attempting to hide her disgust.
A chuckle came out of his mouth before he took a step back, finally giving her some room again, space to breathe and evaluate.
"There is a reason I hired you, your task is not yet completed, thus you will continue and stop this nonsense."
"I quit," she spat.
Which was immediately countered with: "You cannot."
"I don't even know why I'm spying on him while he's clearly the blameless party in this situation and you're the one that's dabbling in shady stuff." She waved her hands into the air. "Don't think I didn't look you up, Gold. Didn't find all of the accusations, the accounts of how you somehow get away with everything."
She should've done it earlier. Why she hadn't, she didn't understand. The only thing she did know was that Killian was right. What accomplished PI didn't perform a background check on the employer that flew her in from another continent just to follow around some guy? There were red flags, big flashy neon signs, why did she ignore those?
It was too late to change that, though. She would have to live with the consequences, carry the burden of a heavy conscience on her back. Accept the fact that she caused harm.
"Now I'd be careful, Ms. Swan." His face became even more cold, even more terrifying. Gone were the signs of amusement that played in his expression. Gold was deadly serious. "You're treading on dangerous territory here. I wouldn't want you to harm yourself by saying something unwise."
Emma didn't care, however.
"Try me," she provoked with a firm voice. She stood tall with straight shoulders.
"You will continue to work for me or so help me God."
"What god is that again? Beelzebub?"
That comment might've been slightly unnecessary, but she thought it was funny.
Only, Gold didn't.
"There will be consequences to this breach, Ms. Swan," his voice rose an octave. "You just had to go and break our deal," he sneered, his movements frantic and disorienting.
"Take care of your own dirty work, Gold, instead of letting others do it."
Emma walked away, a triumphant smile tugging on her lips. She did it. She managed to trump Gold.
This called for a celebratory drink.
"Emma!" Samir said once she walked into his shop. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your lovely company?"
"Hey, Samir," she greeted him in return. "I'm here to buy a bottle of tequila." She began looking around, searching for what she desired. First glancing over the bottle, she did a double take and a half-smile appeared on her face. She moved to grab the bottle, determination in her gait and returned, setting it on Samir's counter.
"Someone has big plans tonight." He raised an eyebrow while he picked up the bottle and ran it through the register.
"Not exactly," she amended. "—but I do have cause to celebrate. Grab some glasses, we're toasting."
Samir blinked in confusion at her announcement, narrowed his eyes but still left the shop to go into the back and, as told, reemerged with two mismatched glasses.
"What are we celebrating?" he asked, the glasses accidentally clinking as he set them on the counter.
In one quick motion, Emma twisted the cap off of the bottle, the spicy aroma spreading into the air and finding her nostrils. The amber liquid was generously poured into the glasses and she pushed one to Samir, grabbing the other for herself.
"Justice," she replied, raising her drink in proposal of a toast. "And the good guys finally winning."
He smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek as he lightly tapped his glass against hers.
"I'll drink to that."
If you feel like leaving a comment about this chapter or the fic in general, feel free to. I could use some fun and/or interesting distractions from my exams. See you next week for what might be the most emotionally confusing chapter of this fic and I mean that in a good way.