I know... it's been ages. But I'm back to this story now! I cannot commit to a weekly update, because writing this fic is a lot of work that involves ploting, rewatches, tweakes, backstory and a huge amount of detail that is really draining for me. So bear with me. I will commit to have an update every two weeks.
Comments and reviews of encouragement will be highly appreciated
also, to the guest reviewer that decided that the best way to encourage me to write this story was to deem it "more interesting" than the one I was currently posting at that moment (and that I'm very proud of): I had a big text to explain a lot of things as to how and why things were going on, but as a good friend reminded me, I don't need to justify myself around what I write and when. At all. Also, please GTFO out of my story, because if you couldn't show kindness to a stranger that you had no idea of what might be going through in her life and you had to result to bash her other fics in a very insulting way (and putting "forgive me for saying this" does not make it ok, and no, you are not forgiven), you certainly do not deserve to read the things she produces when she feels better.
Chapter III
The sound of knocking at the door interrupted Killian's first cup of coffee in the morning. He went to answer, still absentmindedly holding his mug in his right hand.
Regina was standing on the other side of the door, wearing a sensible grey dress and a coat, holding a basket full of red apples. She was poised to speak, but whatever words she had died on her lips the second she got a good look at him, her eyes widening as she trailed her gaze back and forth over his body. It was then that Killian realized he hadn't bothered to put on his shirt before opening the door, his bare chest attracting the Mayor's attention before she lowered her gaze appreciatively to where his jeans were hanging low on his hips. Killian contemplated acknowledging her interest with a suggestive remark, but he ultimately decided against it. He had zero intention of following up on those remarks with any type of dalliance with his son's adoptive mother. Some doors - much like his heart - were better to remain closed. He settled for a soft clear of his throat and a raised eyebrow in her direction.
That seemed to snap Regina's attention back to his face, and she quickly schooled her features into a honeyed smile with little authenticity behind it.
"Did you know the Honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hearty of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as forty below, and keep growing. It can weather any storm." There was a veiled threat in there somewhere, and it made the hair at the nape of his neck rise in alert. "I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl. And to this day, I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers." She grabbed one of the apples from the basket and held it out to him. Killian didn't take it. "I'm sure you'll enjoy them on your drive home," Regina insisted.
Killian Jones may have felt like an orphan for the past twenty years of his life, but that hadn't always been the case. And though he hadn't thought about her in a long while, he couldn't help but hear the warning voice of Isobel Jones in his head at that very moment.
"I'm sorry, Madam Mayor," he said with his most polite voice, "but my Mum taught me not to accept food from strangers."
Regina's smile faltered, something sinister crossing her features before she regained her composure. "I'm hardly a stranger," she offered with a seductive smile.
Killian tilted his head as if to consider her words. "Even so, I'm afraid I'm not very fond of apples. Never really developed a taste for them. And it turns out I won't be needing them today, anyway. I've decided to stay a while."
Regina didn't hide her menacing look this time. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn't need you confusing him."
Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't wish to antagonize Henry's mother further, but nor did he want to leave Henry just yet. Not until he was sure that whatever deep issue was troubling the lad was resolved.
He chose his words carefully. "I don't mean any harm, or wish to be an inconvenience. I just want to make sure he's okay."
Regina gave him a dismissive look. "He's fine. Any problems he has are being taken care of. "
"What's that supposed to mean?" Killian asked alarmed, a sense of dread creeping into him.
"It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Mr. Jones. Only one of us knows what's best for Henry." She paused and looked Killian straight in the eye, a silent dare passing between them. Killian said nothing, choosing to hold her gaze as his only reply to her words. "It's time for you to go," Regina said, finishing her sentence with a sweet fake smile on her face.
Killian cleared his throat. "Or what?" he asked daringly.
Regina took one step closer to him, her tone cold and calculating. "Don't underestimate me, Mr. Jones. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
She gave him one last look before she swiftly turned around and left. Killian let out a weary sigh. He'd let his emotions get the best of him, and now he and Regina were at odds again, exactly like he hadn't wanted. It wouldn't resolve anything. It wouldn't help Henry, which was the only thing he cared about at this point. He let the door slam closed, and replaced his mug on the table. He was going to need a stronger coffee and a better breakfast to start this day.
And for that, he needed to put a shirt on first.
/-/
Killian sat at the counter of Granny's dinner and sighed as he took in his mug shot staring back at him from the front page of the local newspaper. His mind drifted to the last time he'd had his mugshot taken over a decade ago, and he found himself horrified at the fact that he hadn't made it forty eight hours in this town without making it to the news. Clearly small towns were not his thing.
The striking brunette he'd seen bickering with her grandmother the night before interrupted his thoughts as she placed a cup of hot cocoa in front of him.
"I didn't order this," Killian said. Because as wonderful as the hot cocoa looked, he wouldn't have ordered one. Especially not today of all days, when it brought back too many painful memories that he'd already had a hard time keeping at bay.
Ruby gave him a coy smile. "Yeah, I know. You have an admirer."
Killian couldn't help the smirk that graced his lips, "Is that you, lass? If you wanted to get close to me, you need only have asked."
Ruby's eyes danced up and down his face, studying him and Killian instantly felt a pang of regret settle in his stomach at his own stupidity. Aye, he was no stranger to resorting to let anyone willing and available help him chase away the demons of Emma for a few hours. Two bodies connecting, tangled limbs and a mindless release. A few hours of just not thinking. But somehow, Killian didn't think he should be conducting himself in such manner in the town where his son lived, and with the woman that would be serving him breakfast for the duration of his stay. But more than that, something just didn't feel right.
She must have read the bluff in his eyes, because she gave him a sultry smirk before shaking her head. "It wasn't from me, hotshot." Her eyes darted to one of the booths behind him and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of the Sheriff - Graham- sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee. Killian gave Ruby a confused look before he cleared his throat and rose from his seat, taking the mug in question over to where Graham was sitting.
"You decided to stay," Graham offered politely, as Killian set down the mug in front of him.
"Observant… an important feature for local enforcement." Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Look, mate, the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I'm impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on top, but I'm not here to flirt. It's not that I'm not flattered, I am. You seem to be a very nice bloke, and I'm sure you'll make someone happy someday but I don't bat for your team."
Graham looked at him confused. "I didn't send it."
Killian could feel his cheeks reddening as the sheriff realized the meaning behind his words and blushed as well. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ruby giving him an unashamed smile while mouthing 'Ooops sorry' at him. Killian reached to scratch behind his ear, trying desperately to think of a way to talk himself out of the situation he'd put himself in, when another voice spoke up from the next booth.
"I did," Henry said, standing. "I like cinnamon too." He was wearing a school uniform and beaming at him.
"Don't you have school?" Killian asked between confusion and surprise. He wondered where the lad's mother was and why Henry was sitting alone at the diner.
"Duh, I'm ten," Henry mocked him. "Walk me?"
Killian nodded, leading Henry outside of the diner. Anything to get him away from the amused looks the sheriff and the waitress were giving him.
Killian and Henry crossed the street and the lad strode ahead purposefully, Killian following closely behind. His sense of direction was good, but he still didn't entirely know his way around town.
"So, what's the issue with you and your mum, lad?" he asked nonchalantly, his mind still tracing back to his conversation with Regina that morning.
"It's not about us, it's about her curse," Henry stated. "We have to break it. Luckily, I have a plan. Step one – identification. I call it Operation Cobra." He beamed at Killian, his freckled nose twitching in a familiar way that was forever imprinted in Killian's memory. He felt it again, that pang of regret and longing, letting it wash over him before he thought back on Henry's words.
"Cobra?" Killian tilted his head slightly perplexed. "That has nothing to do with fairy tales, lad."
"Exactly," Henry pointed out. "It's a code name to throw the Queen off the trail."
Killian's heart broke a little when he heard Henry referring to his adoptive mother in that way, as if she were an evil villain from a fairytale. He decided to ask the lad a few questions, trying to understand how deep his fable world extended.
"So if I follow your tale accurately, everyone here is a fairy tale character, right? They're just not aware of it."
"That's the curse," Henry nodded. "Time's been frozen – until you got here."
"What about their pasts? Their stories?"
"They don't know. It's a haze to them. Ask anyone anything, and you'll see."
Killian tried to make sense of Henry's words. "You're telling me that, for decades, people have been walking around in a haze, not aging, with fabricated memories, stuck in a cursed town that kept them oblivious to everything?"
They had reached the school grounds and Henry nodded one more time, smiling proudly at him. He remembered that smile, only that it had graced another face, another set of lips. Once upon a time, he'd have given anything to have that smile directed at him. His world shone brighter when Emma had smiled proudly at him. It had made him feel as if he were invincible.
Henry's next words shook him out of his memories. "I knew you'd get it. That's why we need you. You're the only one who can stop her curse!"
"Because I'm the son of Snow White and Prince Charming?" Killian scoffed incredulous.
"Yes! And right now, we have the advantage. My mom doesn't know that. I took out the end. The part with you in it." He took a few pages that seemed to have been torn from the book out of his backpack, and handed them to Killian. Killian took them, his eyes focusing on a detailed illustration of a light haired man carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket. The blanket had his name - Killian - embroidered onto it. "See? Your mom is Snow White."
"Lad-" Killian started, but Henry interrupted him.
"I know the hero never believes at first." Killian's heart sank in his chest at the tone of Henry's voice. "If they did, it wouldn't be a very good story. If you need proof, take them. Read them," Henry pleaded. "But whatever you do, don't let her see these pages. They're dangerous. If she finds out who you are, then it would be bad." There was a hint of real fear in his voice that made Killian reach out for Henry's shoulder in a comforting manner.
They'd reached the school entrance and Henry spoke in a haste. "I've got to go. But I'll find you later and we can get started. I knew you'd believe me!"
"I never said I did." Killian cocked an eyebrow.
"Why else would you be here?" Henry yelled mischievously as he turned and ran to the school.
Killian chuckled before his eyes settled on Mary Margaret, who approached him smiling.
"It's good to see his smile back," she confessed.
Killian shook his head, a slight self-deprecating tone in his voice. "I didn't do anything."
"You stayed." Mary Margaret pronounced the words with precision, as if the small act of Killian deciding to stay just for a few days would have created such an instant and rapid change in Henry's life. "So, does the Mayor know you're still here?"
Killian's eyebrows shot up in his forehead. "Oh, she knows. She paid me a lovely visit this morning." It was Mary Margaret's turn to cock an eyebrow but Killian waved his hand dismissively, the pages of the book still clutched in them. "It was anything but a friendly visit. Makes me wonder how she's been elected, considering her people skills - or lack of thereof."
Mary Margaret seemed to be thinking about Killian's question. "She's been mayor for as long as I can remember. No one's ever been brave enough to run against her." She lowered her voice. "She inspires quite a bit of, well, fear. I'm afraid I only made that worse by giving Henry that book. Now he thinks she's the Evil Queen," Mary Margaret sighed.
"Who does he think you are?" Killian asked curiously.
"Oh, it's silly." Mary Margaret blushed.
"Try me, love," he teased.
"Snow White," she confessed, biting her lower lip in embarrassment.
Killian's heart skipped a beat as he felt a sudden rush of warmth rushing through his blood. Snow White. If we were to believe Henry's fable, this was his mother.
"Who does he think you are?" Mary Margaret asked in return.
He reached to scratch behind his ear nervously, trying to figure out what to say. But it wasn't necessary, as Mary Margaret seemed to read into his behavior and pieced it together.
"The drawing, the name in the blanket. Killian," she started, her eyes widening, "he thinks you're…" she trailed off, her eyes searching his features in a way that should have made Killian uncomfortable, yet it didn't.
"Aye," he finally agreed. "He thinks I'm your son."
/-/
Killian knocked on Dr. Archibald Hopper's office door, his feet shuffling back and forth, trying to fight that nervous sensation that was creeping up the back of his neck. He heard the voice inviting him in and quickly entered the room, pulling on his most charming smile.
"Killian Jones," Archie said, motioning to the newspaper lying over the desk. "I was, uh, just reading about you. Let me guess – you're here for a little help with post-traumatic stress?"
Killian chuckled. "Believe me, I've had worse traumas than this one, and I've come out of them somehow unscathed." He reached to scratch behind his ear, noticing how much that particular tic of his had started making a repeat appearance since he'd made it into this town. "I'm here about Henry…"
Archie backtracked a few steps, discomfort showing in his features. "I'm sorry. I… I really shouldn't-"
Killian raised his hand in a placating gesture. "I know, I don't want you put you in a compromising situation, mate. But… the lad thinks everyone is a character from his book. That's…" he tried to find an appropriate word. "That can't be healthy for him."
Archie sighed, his eyes carrying more than a hint of reproach. "I-I hope you don't talk that way in front of him. It can be, um, quite damaging. These stories… They're his language. He has no idea how to express complex emotion, so he's translating as best as he can. This is how he communicates, using this book to help deal with his problems."
Problems. The word sliced through Killian's heart like a dagger, filling him with ache. This wasn't the destiny he'd wanted for his little boy when he signed off on the adoption papers.
"He thinks his mother is the Evil Queen," he said softly, not being able to hide the despair in his voice. "Why would he think that?"
Archie hesitated. "His mother is, uh, a very complicated woman. And, uh, over the years, her attempts to try and bring Henry close to her only backfired."
Killian swallowed the lump in his throat. "Can it be fixed? Is there- is there hope for them?" He noticed Archie's confused stare and gave him a tight smile. "I was adopted. Once. I know it can be hard sometimes, but it can also be a good thing, a wonderful thing." Gods knew, the Joneses had been everything to him, right up until the very moment they were taken away from him in that car accident.
Archie walked toward his file cabinet and pulled a folder from it. "Why don't you take a look at the file? See what I mean."
"Shouldn't that be confidential?"
"Perhaps it can help put your mind to ease," Archie offered gently. "Just, uh, see that I get it back, okay? And Mr. Jones, just for the sake of the boy, be careful how to handle his belief system. Destroying his imagination would be… devastating."
Killian took the file. "Aye, thank you, I will."
/-/
Killian hadn't made it past the second page of the reports - his heart cringing at words like troubled mind and abandonment issues - when there was a knock on his door. Checking he had a shirt on this time, he stood up and answered the door. The sheriff was standing on the other side, an uncomfortable smile on his face.
"Mate," Killian started awkwardly, "if this is about earlier-"
Graham cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?"
"Uh - no?" Killian said confused.
"He says you demanded to see Henry's files and when he refused, you forced him into handing them over."
Kilian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He gave them to me," he tried to explain, but Graham shrugged at him.
"Alas, he's telling a different tale. May I check your room? Or do I have to get a search warrant?"
Knowing nothing good would come from refusing, Killian could recognize a set up when he saw it. He just wanted to smack himself in the head for not realizing it sooner. Before he'd taken the bloody files to begin with. He stepped aside and let Graham enter the room.
"This what you're looking for?" He motioned to the bed where the file's contents still lay scattered.
"Well, you're very accommodating." Graham pulled out a pair of handcuffs and Killian groaned. "I'm afraid, Mr. Jones, you're under arrest. Again."
"Bloody great," Killian sighed, as the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists. . "This is a set-up, mate."
"And whom, may I ask, is setting you up?"
I can think of one person who wants me out of the picture.
/-/
Killian stood in front of the plain painted wall, his handcuffed hands in front. He hadn't posed for a mugshot in a decade - a remarkably good streak, considering his origins - only to have it taken twice in the same amount of days in bloody Storybrooke. He sighed, exasperated.
"The shrink is lying, mate," he repeated, for what felt like the umpteenth time.
"To the right, please," Graham ordered. "Why would he lie?"
"Someone might have put him up to it," Killian cocked an eyebrow at Graham, hoping the sheriff might catch on to the hidden - and not so hidden - meaning in his words.
"To the right," Graham repeated again, waiting until Killian turned to take another picture. "Who could possibly do that?"
"Oh, I don't know," Killian shrugged. "Someone intimidating. Someone who wields a lot of power locally. Someone like the Mayor, perhaps?"
"I don't think Regina is that intimidating." Graham said, with a tilt of his head as he took the polaroid out of the camera. "And she's the Mayor. She's supposed to be involved in all the town's affairs."
Involved, uh.
"Interesting," Killian cocked an eyebrow. "Tell me, mate, how involved is she with the police force?"
Graham hesitated for a second, a slight blush coming to his cheeks and it was all the confirmation Killian needed to realize that there might be something going on there. But before any of them could speak again, Henry barged into the station with Mary Margaret right behind him.
"Henry! Henry, what are you doing here?" Graham asked, his body going a little stiff as he spotted Mary Margaret.
"His mother told him what happened," Mary Margaret said briefly, her eyes darting worryingly to Killian.
Killian's heart sank in his chest and he turned, almost afraid to meet Henry's eyes. "Lad, I don't know what your mother told you, but-"
"You're a genius!" Henry interrupted excitedly, beaming at him. "You were gathering intel for Operation Cobra."
"Operation what? I'm a bit lost." Graham said.
"It's need to know, Sheriff," Henry said curtly, his narrowing eyes just daring the man to disagree. Killian felt a strange mix of horror and pride, seeing himself reflected back at him through his young son for the first time. He'd been exactly the same at Henry's age when it came to defying authority. "And all you need to know is that Miss Blanchard's going to bail him out."
That last part took Killian out of the thoughts that were running in his head. "You are?" he asked confused.
"I - yes. I trust you," Mary Margaret said.
Graham looked from one to another and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at Killian. "I didn't know you two had gotten so close in the span of 48 hours."
From the corner of his eye, Killian saw her blushing and averting her gaze and he felt sorry for the poor woman. All she did was give Henry a book and in the past few days she had her credit car stolen, was the subject of the Mayor's wrath, and now was being dragged to bail the kid's biological father - her supposed son - out of jail while the sheriff was off getting the wrong idea.
"None of your business, mate." Killian spat, his words a cold warning. "But if the lady is indeed here to post my bail, then I'm free to go. So, if you don't mind uncuffing me," he said, raising his bound wrists in front of him, "I have better places to be."
/-/
Killian seriously contemplated the idea of going toe to toe against Regina, and he would have done it if he thought anything good could come out of it. But nothing would. If the woman was prepared to pin such an absurd and unfounded crime on him, gods knew what else she was willing to do, just to get him out of the way. He had to stay one step ahead of this game. Sighing deeply - it was only noon and his day had been more eventful than the last two years of his life - he made his way back towards his rented room. He needed a shower and a nap. And coffee.
He'd already gotten his key into the lock, and was moments away from turning the handle when he heard steps on the landing behind him. But when he wheeled around, it was only the elderly innkeeper, Granny, he presumed. But she looked troubled.
"Mr. Jones. Oh my, this is terribly awkward. Uh, I need to ask you to leave." She fidgeted with her hands. "I'm afraid we have a 'no felons' rule. It… It turns out it's a city ordinance."
Of bloody course.
"Let me guess – the Mayor's office just called to remind you?"
She was even more uncomfortable when she met his gaze again, her mouth pulling into an apologetic frown. "You can gather your things, but I need to have your room key back."
He briefly considered laying on the charm and trying to convince the woman to turn a blind eye to the ordinance. He knew he had the charisma to pull it off - it was after all, one of his favorite tactics to employ in his job, and what had gotten his jail records sealed back in the day - but much like everyone else in this town, she seemed terribly afraid of the Mayor. And the last thing Killian wanted to do was cause anyone else more grief. In all likelihood he'd be out of there by the end of the week, but the townspeople had to live there. It wasn't worth it to have them alienate the Mayor. He simply smiled and handed over his key.
He always had his loyal companion, his Bug, to rely on. It would hardly be the first time he'd slept in his car.
/-/
Killian knocked on the door and waited politely for an answer, toying with the manila envelope between his fingers. Mary Margaret opened the door and looked slightly shocked to see him standing there. He couldn't blame her, it was an awkward situation for him too. Killian knew better than believing Henry's far-fetched story about cursed fairytale characters in a town that time forgot, but a small part of him couldn't help but studying Mary Margaret's features to see if there was any resemblance between the two of them. Perhaps in the way she tilted her head at him? Her chin? He shook his head to quickly discard those thoughts - they wouldn't do him any bit of good - and gave Mary Margaret a soft smile as he lift the envelope.
"I just wanted to say thank you and, um, reimburse you the bail money."
Mary Margaret gave him a long and thoughtful stare that left him shuffling his feet, as if he couldn't hide his deepest thoughts from her.
"You look like you need to talk," she said as she opened the door and motioned for him to enter. Killian took a few hesitant steps into the loft, an odd sense of familiar warmth invading him as he took a seat at the table like Mary Margaret indicated.
"Let me get you something to drink," she said, making her way to the open kitchen area and gathering a few things.
Killian let his eyes drift around the place, focusing on the soft ambiance and exposed bricks, the natural light coming from the window, the earthy tones which made the loft so cozy and inviting. Like a home. He hadn't had one of those - a home - in a long time. After the accident, he'd gone right back into the system, bouncing from foster home to foster home, with a few group homes thrown in for variety. Fourteen of them, across three different states, and none of them had that air of simple comfort that Mary Margaret's place seemed to exude. He was lost in those thoughts, his mind wandering to the broken dreams he once held, of building a home of his own, when a mug was placed in front of him. Snapping back to the present, he gave Mary Margaret a grateful smile and brought the mug to his lips, taking a sip. The familiar taste invaded his mouth at once, and he couldn't quite hide his reaction.
"Cinnamon?" he asked in a soft voice, trying hard to keep the memories at bay.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've asked. It's a little quirk of mine. Do you mind?" Mary Margaret seemed slightly fretful, and Killian could see the inner nurturer in her jumping with the need to offer something else if needed.
"Not at all," Killian reassured her, taking another sip and letting the familiar taste comfort him instead. "I - I just knew someone that was very fond of it too." The words lingered in between them, Mary Margaret's silence making him feel at ease. It was an odd feeling, this familiarity he felt, the effortless comfort he drew from his surroundings. It made it easier for him to express himself. "When you bailed me out, you said that you trusted me. Why?"
Mary Margaret's eyes drifted towards the table, her hands cradling her mug. "It's strange. Ever since you arrived here, I've had the oddest feeling like we've met before." She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look, a slight hint of self-deprecation clinging in the way her lips curved in a small smile. "I know it's crazy."
"Well, if we were led to believe Henry's version of the events, I am your son," Killian said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed easier to jest than to deal with why he was feeling this way. Or why he apparently wasn't the only one.
Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow at him as her lips pursed into a small pout. "It's probably that, then." She cleared her throat. "For what it's worth, I think you're innocent."
Killian scoffed. "Of breaking and entering, or just in general?"
"Whichever makes you feel better," she shrugged.
"Aye." Killian's finger traced the rim of the mug, his breath exhaling in a deep sigh. "While I appreciate the trust you've bestowed upon me, it doesn't really matter at this point. I'm leaving," he announced and his eyes focused on hers.
She was looking at him intently, but there was no judgement in her eyes, no measure that found him wanting and unworthy. He expected the familiar condescending look towards the problematic type of trouble he clearly would bring to everyone around him, but there was none. In her eyes there was just understanding and empathy. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under her unwavering gaze. "Thank you – for everything – but I think it's for the best. If I stay, Henry's only going to keep getting hurt, or building up his expectations only to be disappointed when I don't measure up to them."
And I won't measure up. The lad deserves better.
"What happens when you go?" she asked in that curious tone that she probably used with the children in her class. The one teachers always used when they already knew the answer, but liked to ask prodding questions in the hopes you might arrive at it on your own. "Perhaps the fact that you want to leave, is why you have to stay. You care about him," she affirmed.
Killian nodded, struggling to find the words. "His mother is adamant to keep him away from me, which she is in her right to do, as it was a closed adoption. If I stay, even if it's to try to help them mend things, who knows what she'll do."
Mary Margaret gave him an understanding smile, her soft features showing a peculiar strength underneath her warm exterior. "But who will protect Henry if you leave?"
And that was the question Killian had no answer for.
/-/
He rapped his knuckles against the door frame, his most smug smile plastered on his face. Regina lifted her eyes from her work, not even trying to hide the displeasure at finding him there.
"What do you want?" she almost spat at him. "I thought you'd be out of town by now, ignoring the pending charges against you."
Killian smirked, crossing the room with as much swagger as he could muster, his eyes never once leaving Regina's. It unsettled her, he could tell. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a quick flash of fear before she schooled her features again. He stopped by her desk and gently placed the bottle of rum he'd acquired at the local store.
"I'm not planning to escape any charges and I have all intentions of making it to my court date." He cleared his throat and enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I feel we've started on the wrong foot here, Miss Mills. Please accept this humble gift as a token of goodwill. A peace offering." He'd lowered his voice and made it as smooth and un-intimidating as possible, whilst still maintaining some resolve.
Regina tilted her head to look at the bottle before she gave him a condescending smile. "I don't do rum."
"Well, you might want to consider trying it. It really does help release the tension." He cocked a scandalous eyebrow at her, letting the innuendos settle in the air between them.
"What do you really want, Mr. Jones?" Regina said in a clipped tone, trying to contain the rage in her words and failing at it.
"If you think a terrible frame job is enough to scare me off, think again, Madam Mayor," Killian said calmly. "I had no intention of coming between you and your boy. I really did just want to see for myself that the lad was alright. But the fact that you've tried to scare me out of town? Makes me think perhaps I need to stay for a little while, and see what happens." He took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving Regina's. "I know it's what his mother would have wanted. "
He could see the instant effect his barb had on the woman in front of him, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't one to provoke a fight if he could help it, but this was one instance where backing away wasn't an option. There was too much at stake. So he was going to stay. He'd stay in this town until he knew his son was okay. Until he knew Emma's son was happy and loved and living the life he deserved. The life Killian and Emma never got to have.
"Goodnight, Regina," he said before turning around and leaving her office without another word.
Dusk was breaking as he walked down Main Street, but he still had one last errand left to do. Then he could crawl into the backseat of his car for the night, and let his memories wander towards the many other times in which he slept in that same car. Emma's head resting on his shoulder and his hand tangled in her hair. That last home he'd ever felt.
It wasn't long until he found himself waiting outside the shrink's building, two steamy to-go cups in his hands. Henry smiled only briefly when he spotted him. Killian tried very hard to quiet the frantic pace of his beating heart and bury deeply the need of grabbing the boy and take him far away from here. He settled for smiling back as he held out one of the cups. Henry grabbed it and took a sip, lips curving into a genuine smile.
"Hot cocoa with cinnamon. You remembered." He beamed at Killian, as if his entire world was a better place just because he'd remembered his favorite drink.
Killian patted Henry's head and gave him a stern smile. "Rule number one lad: never accept food or drinks from strangers."
"But you're my dad," Henry objected and Killian's heart squeezed in his chest at the word. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to get a handle on himself, but when he spoke again, he couldn't quite keep the emotions at bay.
"Once again, Henry, rule number one: never accept things from strangers, no matter who they are or how you think they won't hurt you. Promise me?" he pleaded.
Henry nodded, "Okay."
Killian sighed deeply, taking a sip from his own drink. There was a bench nearby and he started towards it, letting the lad follow him. "Rule number two: confrontation never leads to anything. Especially when you're at a disadvantage and you don't hold all the cards." He gave Henry a pointed look. "Aye?"
"Does this mean you'll help break the curse?" Henry asked eagerly.
"I need time to understand all of this, lad. I won't lie to you. I don't necessarily believe in this curse… but I will stay, for a while." Killian's voice broke. "It- it's what your mother would have wanted." He smiled, his finger pointing at Henry's cup. "She was actually the one that loved cinnamon in her cocoa. It was her favorite. "
"Would she have believed?" Henry asked, and that was all the permission Killian needed to cast his mind back to his memories of Emma.
They've been hanging together for about a month, roaming the streets and lifting small things - wallets, snacks from convenience stores. Just enough for the two of them to get by, huddled close against each other in the backseat of the bug at night, trying to keep each other warm. Slowly, he'd realized how his touch lingered every time he was near her, the need to be closer to her in every sense invading his thoughts over and over. He'd been mesmerized by her from the moment he met her but there was nothing a poor sod like him had for her, other than the desire to keep her as safe as possible in the life they were living.
But that afternoon, he'd struck some luck. He'd been following a mark, an old lady that seemed like easy prey to pickpocket but at the end he couldn't go through with it. Instead he offered to carry the woman's groceries for her, and she'd been so thankful she'd offered him some cash as a reward. He'd wanted to refuse, but he knew he could use that money for several things. He needed the money. Though something the woman had said stuck with him.
"Use it to do something your heart desires."
So he'd taken Emma to the movies to see an old Disney classic, and they'd splurged on popcorn and sodas. Later, as they walked through the night, passing the last of the soda back and forth, he'd asked her.
"Do you believe in happy endings?"
"C'mon, Killian," she scoffed. "Do you? What is there to believe? The goodness in people's hearts? Destiny or fate or some almighty being making everything alright? I don't believe in any of those things!"
He stopped short, the hopelessness in her voice breaking his heart. His hand reached for her arm and slowly, gently he brought her around to face him. "And what do you believe in, Swan?"
She gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I believe that people will always be out go get you. I believe that they will leave you behind in the blink of an eye when you're no longer convenient. I believe in looking out for yourself, and you'll never get hurt." She fidgeted, her eyes averting to the floor, her voice nothing but a thin thread. "But lately…"
His heart beat frantically in his chest. "Lately what?"
She lifted her head, her green eyes meeting his, a small flicker of hope shining through. "Lately I've started to believe in you…."
"Emma…" he breathed, his hand moving to cradle her face as he leaned in and captured her lips with his. She threw her arms around his neck and he let the soda fall to the ground, gathering her up in his arms as he kissed her over and over.
Killian took a deep breath as he brought himself back to the present, a time where Emma was no longer by his side, a decade of broken dreams and sleepless nights. And Henry.
"No," he whispered, "Emma wasn't interested in fairytales. Nor happy endings. Neither of us were - are." His eyes focused on Henry's hopeless stare. "I'm sorry, lad. But I don't want to lie to you. Your mother was many things, but a believer wasn't one of them."
"It's okay," Henry said as he drank his cocoa, his unwavering faith making Killian wish so badly Emma could be there with him to see it. "I'll believe enough for the three of us."
"Aye,' he said, reaching up to clap the boy on the back. "You do that, Henry."