This was a very hard chapter to write - Let me know what you think
Killian didn't know why he was even at a party for a man he hardly knew, let alone a man who wouldn't have remembered him now even if they had known each other. He'd been given the invitation at the station that day, Kathryn Nolan giving him a hopeful smile. And he'd accepted, not really knowing what else to do.
On one hand, he wanted to stay at the loft and be on hand to distract Mary Margaret from the party she decided to skip and the life resolution she'd taken when she'd resigned from her volunteer work at the hospital. But on the other hand, it was - perhaps - the only chance he'd have to see Henry for a while. Regina had held firm on her decision to ground Henry, and as much as Killian wanted to see the lad, he knew he would have to abide by her rules. Henry had tried sneaking into the station to see him, but Killian had reluctantly turned the boy away, praying that his mother would never learn of it.
But Mary Margaret, sensing that Killian's desperation for even the smallest of contact with Henry, had sent him on his merry way to the party, claiming that she'd be more than fine on her own. "I've been alone for a lot of nights before you came along, Killian. I'll be okay." A small part of Killian wanted to hug her and promised her that she wouldn't be alone from now on, but he knew a thing or two about making promises he wasn't sure he could keep, well-intentioned or not. He had given her a hug anyway, engulfing her petite frame in his arms before he left for the party.
That was how he'd ended on the foyer of the Nolan's house, sharing a bench with a 10 year-old that was still hung up on a curse.
"You know why he doesn't remember, right?" Henry prompted. "The curse isn't working on him yet."
"Henry, David has amnesia." Killian insisted, trying to gently infuse the difference in Henry's mind.
"Well, then the amnesia is preventing the curse from replacing his fairy tale story with fake memories," Henry insisted, speaking in a low voice and stealing glances at the kitchen, where Regina was.
"Aye. Because everyone here has fake stories that prevent them from remembering who they really are," Killian tilted his head and pronounced the last quip almost sarcastically, hoping that Henry would understand. But his son either didn't take the hint or had just decided to ignore him, just another blind adult who couldn't see his truth. If Killian were to take a wild guess, he'd say it was the second, because the way his son's eyes glinted at him with half-annoyance, half-bossing-around was painfully familiar. Emma used to give him the same look every time he tried to talk her out of something she'd set her mind on.. And every time he'd failed miserably, Emma moving forward with whatever she wanted to do anyway.
"Right. And now's our chance to help him." Yep, the lad definitely took after Emma. Killian felt himself losing the battle again. "We just have to get him to remember that he's-" Henry trailed off, looking at Killian's expectantly.
"He's Prince Charming," he sighed, finishing the boy's thought. My bloody father.
"We just have to jog his memory by getting him and Miss Blanchard together."
Hell, no.
"Didn't we just try that?" Killian argued, every single fiber of his being blanching at the idea of causing Mary Margaret more heartache. She was already suffering as it was, only because Henry had wanted to be proven right about his cursed town theory. And while Killian was on board with preserving his son's fantasies if they helped him deal with complex emotions, it couldn't be at the expense of people's - Mary Margaret's - feelings.
"And it woke him up!" Henry stated proudly.
"Lad, listen-" Killian started but he was interrupted by the man of the hour coming over to stand next to them.
"Hey," David said, a feeble smile coming to his lips. "You're the ones who saved me, right?"
Killian stood, facing the man in front of him. They were about the same height, and he found himself studying him. They definitely did not seem alike. "Aye, I guess you could say so," he offered with a smile of his own.
David fidgeted, his smile morphing into a nervous chuckle. "And, uh, you're also the only ones I know here," he acknowledged with a sincere voice.
Killian felt bad for the man, clearly feeling like a stranger in his own house. He knew the feeling, that ache of never quite belonging, as it had been his sole companion for decades. Only twice he'd felt like he'd belong: first with the Joneses and later with Emma. And he'd lost them both. Stealing a look at Henry, he thought perhaps, maybe thrice. "You can hide with us," he offered and David beamed.
"Fantastic," he said as he stabbed a cocktail snack from a tray that a waiter carried nearby with a toothpick.
"So," Henry started and by the tone of his voice Killian was already fearing what would come next, "have you ever used a sword?"
"I'm sorry?" David asked confused and Kilian gave Henry a stern look.
"Henry," he admonished, cocking an eyebrow in a clear message for the lad to drop it. "Not now."
"You live with Mary Margaret, right?" David asked, almost nonchalantly, but Killian could spot a loaded question a mile away.
"Aye, yes, we share a household," he said softly, not giving much away and waiting to see what David would ask next.
David seemed to falter for a moment, before he casually continued. "I didn't know that you two - she didn't mention -"
It was painful to watch, even for him and Killian didn't have the heart to go on. The man was already second-guessing and hesitating about everything -and everyone - in his life.
"No, no," he waved his hand in the air. "As lovely as Miss Blanchard is, ours is a relationship of a friendly nature."
David's eyes lit in a way no married man's eyes should lit at the mention of any woman other than his wife. "Is she coming tonight?"
"I'm afraid she couldn't make it," Killian replied and watched that light snuff away. He felt sorry for the man, he did, but he also realized that now, more than ever, he needed to be there for Mary Margaret. He could see Henry wanted to push David a little further but he turned away and gave his son a stern stare. He wanted to help the lad, he really did, but they had no business aiding a confused married man and getting Mary Margaret hurt in the process.
It seemed their silent conversation took longer than they both thought, because the next thing he knew, Kathryn was walking over to them, asking them if they'd seen David. It was only then that Killian noticed the man had vanished. And considering the way he'd looked when he'd mentioned Mary Margaret, Killian had a pretty good hunch on where he might be headed.
Bloody hell.
/-/
Killian had no intention of confronting Mary Margaret as he wasn't eager to bring the topic of David with her - even after spotting the man leaving as he was arriving to the loft. But he couldn't avoid it when the first thing that greeted him as he entered the apartment was the view of Mary Margaret obsessively scrubbing a dish in the kitchen.
"Love, is abusing the Brillo pad a good way to end the evening?" he asked gently, as he crossed his arms over this chest and waited for her answer. She stopped her scrubbing, only to deposit the plate in the water-filled sink.
"Dishes were just piling up…" she trailed off, not really meeting Killian's eyes. He sighed, removing his black leather jacket and going to take a seat at the counter.
"Perhaps your actions are more related to David stopping by than the actual need to have a perfectly clean household?" he said, and Mary Margaret looked at him as if she were a deer caught in headlights. "I saw him leaving with a sulking expression as I pulled up."
"We just, uh" Mary Margaret let the dish drip before she put it on the rack, avoiding his gaze and stumbling on her words, "he just-"
"Aye, you both just," Killian sighed, running a hand through this hair. "For what is worth, I believe you did the right thing, love."
"Well, he made a pretty compelling case," she replied, her hands attacking the next dish.
"I know - I was at the party," Killian admitted.
"What do I do?" she asked, her nail fidgeting with the side of her forefinger, her voice dropping to a low whisper that was filled with longing.
"First, you need to stop cleaning," he said kindly as he stood up and extended his hand, palm up. "And have a drink." He cocked an eyebrow.
Mary Margaret gave him a small laugh that didn't quite lift his spirits, but he'd take it for now. She gave him her hand and he squeezed softly before he redirected her to the table and made her sit. He retrieved the brand new bottle of rum he'd purchased a few days before - his first contribution to the household - and two glasses. He poured a healthy amount in each as he continued speaking.
"Lass, I don't know much about relationships - other than having my heart broken followed by a string of one-night stands and poor choices." He handed her one of the glasses before he sat on the other chair and faced her. "But generally speaking, if you think that something you want to do - or a certain activity you want to partake in - is wrong, then it usually is." He gave her a soft smile, his eyes looking at her with fond concern. "You have to stay strong, Mary Margaret. And he needs to figure out his life. You deserve better than this situation and you know it." He raised his glass and clinked it with hers. "Cheers. Bottoms up."
Mary Margaret downed half of her glass with one gulp, grimacing as it went down. "Did you ever feel - with Emma - that it wasn't right?" she asked hesitantly.
Killian took another sip of his drink, letting the alcohol burnt his throat before he answered. "Never." The word came out broken, the sting of the drink adding a rawness to it.
"Then what happened?" she asked curious, leaning her body forward, her elbows resting on her legs, the glass cradled between her hands.
He didn't want to talk about the circumstances that led to him and Emma parting ways, the wound still very much un-healed even after a decade. He'd kept that pain deep within him, as his silent companion, never speaking of it. He wasn't even sure he could go there. He'd always secretly believed that the reason he hadn't completely fallen apart was because he'd never talked about it, the pain woven through every part of him somehow also holding him together. The moment he talked about it - the moment he shared the story with someone, anyone - he feared he'd simply unravel, never able to put himself together again.
Mary Margaret let the silence stretch between them, tilting her head to the side and offering him a comforting smile. "It okay, Killian," she whispered, one of her hands reaching to squeeze one of his. "Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me."
He swallowed, marveling at her selfless offer for comfort when he was the one that should've been comforting her.
"Aye, I truly hope so," he admitted.
/-/
Killian sat at his desk at the station, his eyes scanning an old file. It turned out that, so far, the only difference between his bail bonds work and being a deputy had been trading stale coffee and uncomfortable hours sitting in his car in a stakeout, for terrible coffee and uncomfortable hours sitting at his desk at the station. Action? Not so much, not after the stunt they pulled on the mines.
He closed the manila folder and placed it down on his desk. He was about to pick up another when Graham walked in, carrying a box of bloody doughnuts from the local bakery in his hands.
"Mate, really?" Killian asked, his voice making it clear he found this beneath the sheriff - and mostly - him.
"What can I say? Sometimes clichés are true," Graham shrugged, opening the lid of the box so Killian could take a peek. He looked from one to another, noticing the bear claw almost right away. He hadn't had one in years, but it didn't mean they weren't the first thing he'd always looked for.
"Alright, spill. What do you want?" He cocked an eyebrow at Graham, not willing to take the bribe before knowing what he was committing to.
"Remember when I said no night shifts?" Graham grimaced and Killian could see how this sentence was going to end. "I need you to work tonight. Just this once."
"You better have a good excuse for that one, Sheriff, because I had plans today." There were two half-truths in there and Killian knew it. One, no matter what he was promised, he was Deputy and Graham was Sheriff. The other man was his boss, so Killian could have thrown any tantrum he wanted, he still would have had to follow orders. And two, he didn't exactly have plans tonight - at least not any set in stone - but he had been toying with the idea of asking Mary Margaret to go with him to the local bar, have some beers and hot wings. He had hoped it would take her mind off David Nolan and perhaps he could find a suitable, eligible, single decent guy for her. There had got to be one in town, somewhere. Perhaps Graham -
His thoughts were interrupted by Graham's voice. "I volunteer at an animal shelter, and the supervisor's sick, and someone needs to feed the dogs."
On further thought, why hadn't Graham and Mary Margaret fallen for each other? It seemed they were both so bloody perfect for each other with their good deeds and optimism. He would have to look into that, perhaps make some hinted remarks to one and the other, see what came out of that. But it would not be tonight, clearly, as Graham had civil duties to perform elsewhere.
"You're too good for your own good," Killian said as he reached for the bear claw, "and for the price of one bear claw, I will cover the night shift."
"Well, you do sell yourself cheap, Jones," Graham joked, "I thought I'd have to at least relinquish half of the box."
"What can I say, I'm easy, Humbert. I've never been able to resist a pair of pretty eyes." Killian batted his eyelashes at him. "And you have such pretty eyes."
Graham's retort died in his lips as Mary Margaret barged into the station and headed directly towards Killian's desk. "Killian, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Humbert cocked an eyebrow at him amusedly, clearly getting the wrong idea but before Killian could say anything, he was retreating towards his office. "I'll just go patrol my office and leave you birds alone."
Oh, bollocks.
The moment Graham was out of earshot, it was as if a dam had broken in Mary Margaret. "He left his wife. David – he left her. He left Kathryn." The entire sentence was pronounced in one breath, and now Mary Margaret was gesticulating with her hands, clearly agitated over this ordeal.
"Slow down, love," Killian started and she took a deep breath.
"He did it for me." And she was back at speaking at the speed of light as she walked to the other side of him and Killian had to turn in his chair to follow her. "He wants me to be with him. He wants me to meet him tonight."
"That's- well-"
"I mean, I'm trying so hard to be strong, but he just keeps coming." She paced to the other side again. "I mean, how do I stop it? You know, how do I let him down? What would you do?"
There was such longing in her voice, and such hope hidden in it, that even if part of Killian was still repelled by the idea - the man had just left his wife - he simply didn't have the heart to crush her dreams.
"I'd go," he shrugged.
That seemed to finally made Mary Margaret stay still. "What?"
"Well, lass, he left her," Killian pointed out. "It's one thing to say that he wants you, but it's another to actually make a choice and now, it seems that he has. That's all you can ask for." He still felt the need to leave her heart a little guarded, just in case. "Just, you know, tread carefully."
Mary Margaret leaned on his desk. "Given her new friendship with Kathryn, I don't think Regina would be happy. "
Oh. "Regina - aye, that won't be a good thing but, the heart wants what the heart wants." Killian placed the bear claw on his desk and cleaned his fingers before he reached for Mary Margaret's arm, his eyes boring into hers. "If he's willing to fight for you, maybe - just maybe- he might deserve you."
Mary Margaret's eyes were lost in a sea of her own hope. "Good Lord, is this really happening?"
"It seems so."
/-/
Since he had the night shift, Killian felt no remorse in leaving Graham to his own devices for the rest of the afternoon and heading back to the loft to catch some shut-eye before the beginning of his patrol. Throughout the years, his random sleeping patterns and work hours had made it easier for him to simply command sleep to come to him regardless the time of day, and sometimes a quick nap brought him more rest than a restless night filled with nightmares and aching.
The small mezzanine of the loft had become a very welcoming lodging for him, the one that felt more like a bedroom than a lot of the places he'd had over the years. The spread was a little flowery for his taste - maybe a lot - but he knew how much Mary Margaret had put of her own heart into arranging this place for him. He couldn't care less if it seemed more appropriate for a young girl than an old rapscallion like him. It was the thought that counted. And Mary Margaret's welcoming thoughts could be counted in spades in that little room. He could buy something more to his taste - a navy blue comforter and some naval themed sheets - once he finally got a steady paycheck.
He woke up after a couple of hours and took a long shower, before pulling on his jeans, a shirt and a soft sweater to keep him warm if the night were to get a little chilly. He grabbed his leather jacket and shot a text to Mary Margaret as he left the loft, wishing her good luck on her date later that evening.
Killian was no stranger to spending long nights working. He'd spent half of his last job doing stakeouts, spending countless hours sitting in his parked car, waiting for skips. Night patrols weren't that much different, if he were to admit it, the only thing that varied was that he was constantly driving the town streets instead of standing still in one place. Other than that, the coffee still tasted like tar, the night was still too silent and the ghosts of his past still decided to show up, reminding him of all the other nights he'd spent wandering around with Emma, either driving around with no purpose or laid over the hood of the car watching the stars.
He was deep in those thoughts, remembering one night at the very beginning, when they were still walking that line between acquaintances that didn't quite trust each other and friends, where he had shown her the stars and told her everything he remembered from Liam's stories. She'd listened, mesmerized, asking questions as she kept pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her green eyes so pure and honest in that moment that he knew then he'd never look into another girl's eyes in the same way he looked into hers.
From the corner of his eye, a flicker of movement at a second floor window of Regina's house caught his attention. He cursed his luck, as of all the places in town a burglar could decide to rob, it had to be the mayor's house on the night he was assigned the patrol? He pulled over as soon as he was able and got out of the car, slowly making his way towards the gap in the hedge, his nightstick ready in his hand. The moment the man made it to the sidewalk, he ambushed him, throwing all his weight into the hit. Caught by surprise, the man fell to the ground and in that moment Killian saw the streetlight illuminating his face. He gasped as he recognized Graham.
"You call this volunteering, mate?" he spat, shoving Graham one more time. His clothes were in an interesting state of disarray and he was carrying his jacket in his hand. He quickly stood up, grunting.
"Plans changed," he said, not meeting Killian's eyes. "Regina needed me to-"
"Spare me the details, Humbert. If you needed me to cover your shift for a bloody booty call, you could have just said so." Killian clenched his jaw. To be honest, he couldn't care less who Graham - or Regina - slept with. This put a damper on his plans to set him up with Mary Margaret, but other than that, it was none of his god damn business. But he didn't like being lied to. "Why were you sneaking out the window?" he asked confused.
"She didn't want Henry to know."
Now, that he had a problem with.
"She's lying to her son?" He couldn't help the next words that came from his mouth. "You're both lying to my son?"
"Killian, let me explain, I-"
"You know what, Sheriff. I don't want to hear it tonight. You could have just been honest with me from the beginning about your liaison with her. You offered me this job, you asked me to help you at the station. You knew things between me and the Mayor were tense, there was no need to keep me in the shadows if we were going to be a team at the station." He tossed him the keys of the patrol car. He had to get out of here. "You can finish the bloody shift for me, mate."
He turned around and walked away. The Rabbit Hole wasn't far away and he had all the intention of drowning all his frustrations with more than one healthy dose of rum.
He didn't make it back to the loft until late that night, and considering that Mary Margaret still wasn't back, he was glad that at least one of them seemed to be having a pleasant night. He climbed the stairs carefully, the alcohol making his movements slightly clumsy, and he stripped out of his clothes, not bothering with pajama pants as he climbed into the bed only in his boxer briefs, ready to put the night behind him.
/-/
He decided to sleep in late the next day, not really caring if he missed part of his shift - or all of it. He was supposed to have the day off after the night shift and he still intended to benefit from that. Mary Margaret was gone by the time he made his way downstairs, a slight headache a sign of the mild hangover he was sure he'd be nursing for the rest of the day. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned on the coffee machine and opened the fridge to search for something to eat. There were eggs and bacon and Killian's mouth began to water at the idea of a hearty breakfast. Deciding that the best way to start the day after his dreadful night was to start fresh, he quickly jumped into the shower while the coffee was brewing.
One shower, two cups of coffee and a fantastic plate of scrambled eggs and bacon later, he took the time to tidy up. He cleaned the kitchen, did his laundry and sat down with a book to kill a few hours.
Mary Margaret had texted him that she would be out late in a school meeting and by the time the sun was setting, Killian had had enough of the apartment and headed for Granny's. The sight that welcomed him as he entered was the one of a slightly inebriated sheriff throwing darts with deadly accuracy. Killian's frustrations from the night before came crawling back and he clenched his jaw to reign himself in. He refused when Ruby asked if he wanted a drink, choosing to simply leave. A dart thrown in his direction, sticking into the doorframe right by his head was enough to make him stop and face Graham again.
"What in the blazes, Humbert? You could have hit me!"
"I never miss, Jones," Graham said, downing his drink and walking towards him. "You missed your shift."
"Sheriff, this is not the time nor the place to have this conversation," Killian pointed out. "And if you're so discontented with my performance, you can always fire me," he said as he walked away.
Graham followed him out to the street. "You've been avoiding me because of Regina, haven't you?"
Killian didn't want to have this conversation, and it seemed sarcasm and quips were the only way he was going to get out of it. He turned around, turning on his best smug smile, his eyes all but blazing at the other man. "Mate, this is looking quite weird and I was under the impression, after seeing you practically leaving Regina's bed last night, that you didn't bat for this team. So which one is it? Do you find me that attractive?"
Graham might be slightly intoxicated, but he was no fool. "Don't give me that bullshit, Killian. We're partners."
"We're barely acquaintances, Graham. You're my boss. Nothing else," Killian retorted. "Whatever you do with your personal life is not of my business."
"Can we talk about this?"
"Why?" He really couldn't understand why Graham wanted to discuss this with him.
"Because I have no one else to talk but you, Jones. No one." There was such despair in Graham's voice that it almost made Killian cave. But he wasn't here to get involved in people's personal lives. He had enough with Henry's insistence they all came from a fairytale world. He'd already let Mary Margaret get deep under his skin in a way that none ever since Emma had - although in a completely different and non-romantic way. He didn't have time to help the Sheriff sort out his love life. Especially when said love life involved the adoptive mother of his son.
"Mate, go talk to Archie about your bad judgement," he said, exasperated.
"You don't know what it's like," Graham insisted, leaning against the wall brick of the alley, his eyes lost. "You don't know what it's like with her-"
Bloody hell. "Probably not, but bad relationships are just that, Graham. Bad," Killian offered, running a hand through his hair and leaning in next to Graham, wishing he had his old flask with him.
"I know you and Regina have issues and I should have told you about us before you took the job." Graham said, and Killian nodded at that.
"Why the secrecy? We're adults and I'm hardly some naive maiden. I have my own track record of poor choices and shady liaisons. It's not like I was going to be horrified by it. You're screwing the mayor, big deal."
"I just - I don't know, I guess I didn't want to admit there's nothing there," Graham said. "That I feel nothing. And if I say something to you..."
"Then you would have to admit it to yourself," Killian sighed, clasping his hand on Graham's shoulder. "It's too late for that now."
Graham was startled, his eyes lost in the horizon for a brief minute before he shook his head.
"Are you alright?" Killian asked worried.
"I don't know, mate. I don't know," Graham sighed. "I-I better go."
"Do you- do you want me to go with you?" Killian asked, fearing that Graham wouldn't make it back home in one piece.
"No, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow at the station, Jones."
"See you tomorrow, Humbert."
/-/
Killian retired early for the night after his strange meeting with Graham, falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber for most of the night. He was down the next morning in time to see the bouquet of flowers sitting by the counter.
"Mary Margaret?" he called and turned to see her coming into the living room with a stack of folders. "I take it that things went well with David two nights ago?"
Mary Margaret's face turned into a sad expression and Killian wanted kick himself. "I - David remembered. He decided to go back to his wife and give his marriage another chance," she said in a soft voice.
"Love," Killian started to take a step towards her but she cut him off, moving to the side and speaking quickly, keeping herself entertained with the folders and the flowers.
"It's fine. I'm fine," she repeated almost to herself.
Something still didn't sit well with Killian. "Then who sent you the flowers?"
Her face turned crimson, her eyes avoiding his as she put the flowers in a vase. "Uh… Dr. Whale."
"Why would Dr. Whale-" Killian started before he put two and two together just in time for Mary Margaret to give him a pointed look. "No. Really?"
"It's a disaster," she sighed.
"Well, I wouldn't call it that," Killian said. Granted, he wouldn't have pegged Mary Margaret for the type to pick up a guy for rebound, but it seemed to be working in her benefit. "It seems things are going well and you're getting over David."
"First of all, there's nothing to get over and second of all, it's just a one night stand," she defended herself.
"There are flowers involved, Mary Margaret. That is not a one night stand."
"Maybe I shouldn't have called him." Mary Margaret sighed.
"You called him?" Killian asked shockingly.
"Well, okay – I'm still learning. I never had one before." She was pacing around the apartment, avoiding his gaze. "I felt guilty."
Killian chuckled and stopped her pacing, bringing her to his side in a friendly hug. "Lass, no. Rule number one of a one night stand: you never call. Actually, you don't even stay for breakfast. You leave in the middle of the night." He gave her a side smile. "Without ever mentioning it again…"
She smiled at him. "Wow. You have a little of experience with that, don't you?" There was something in her tone that made Killian slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way.
"Why do I feel I'm being judged by me mum?" he cocked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, extricating herself from his arms.
"Maybe because I'm supposed to be your mother," she said matter-of-factly.
Gods, he hadn't thought of that. And here he was, discussing one night stands with the woman.
He ran his hand through his hair. "If this curse proves to be true, we're going to need so much therapy."
She tilted her head to the side. "I don't think even Archie could repair that kind of damage."
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked concerned. He hated the idea of Mary Margaret being sad over this.
"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll get there."
"Maybe you should give the doctor a chance?" Killian suggested. "He sent you flowers, after all."
"I don't think he wants a relationship," Mary Margaret said, as she grabbed her things and readied herself for school.
Killian's thoughts went back to the idea that had been on his mind for a few days and he decided he might as well put it out there. "What about Graham? Have you ever thought that you and him... Perhaps? You'd make a good match."
The stare that Mary Margaret gave him was a clear answer. "I'm not that naive not to know he's sleeping with the mayor, Killian."
"True, but it seems that things might not be going well. I'm just saying-"
"Hey, how about we talk about your love life for a change?" she interrupted him.
"I don't have a love life. Nor do I intend to," Killian said. "One nights work pretty well for me. I know the basics." He cringed at the harsh tone of his words but Mary Margaret didn't seemed the least bit fazed.
"I know you're still hurting, Killian. And there's that wall you've built," she gave him a soft smile.
"There's nothing wrong with being cautious, love," he said feebly, his jaw clenching. He knew she was right, he had a wall. He'd built it and fortified it around his heart for years.
"Oh, true. True. But, Killian, that wall of yours? It may keep out pain but it also keeps out love."
That's what she got wrong. That wall wasn't keeping out love, it was keeping it in.
/-/
It had been an odd day for Killian. He wasn't sure if it had been triggered by the conversation he'd had with Mary Margaret early that morning, or the fact that Graham had seemed so out of sorts the night before. But when the clock struck noon and Graham still hadn't arrived - or called, he started to get restless.
He'd left a few messages on Graham's voicemail, but there had been no call back. Hell, he'd even tried calling Regina, but the Mayor told him that he wasn't paid to meddle with the sheriff's life - or hers - and that he should leave the issue alone.
You may think you're doing nothing, but you're putting thoughts in his head. Thoughts that are not in his best interest. You are leading him on a path to self-destruction. Stay away.
Killian wasn't quite sure what Regina was referring to, as the only thing he'd done was tell Graham that his life choices were his own, but apparently Regina was eager to pin him as guilty for anything - or anyone - going wrong in this town.
He was still fuming from his conversation with her when Mary Margaret showed up at the station, her face showing signs of distress.
"Is everything alright?" Killian asked, "Did something happen to Henry?"
"No, no," Mary Margaret said but she seemed hesitant for a moment. "Graham came to see me. He was - he wasn't himself. Kept asking me about how long we've known each other and then he started rambling about past lives."
"Past lives?"
"Yeh, he seemed very interested to know if I thought we'd met in a different life." Mary Margaret paced back and forth, rubbing her hands together in a clear sign of distress. "I didn't realize he was burning with fever, not until after-"
"After what?" Killian's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
"I told him about Henry and the book. I'm sorry Killian, I didn't know," she said, her voice full of remorse.
He was by her side in an instant, placing a comforting hand over her arm. "It's okay Mary Margaret, I don't think Graham would hurt Henry."
"We have to find him." Mary Margaret pleaded.
"Aye, we'll do that," he promised.
It wasn't hard to track Graham, considering Killian had a very good idea of where he might have gone. If he was delirious and thought he was remembering past lives - or if he believed in the curse - then Henry would be the first person he'd go see.
And just as they suspected, they saw Graham coming out of the Mayor's house just as Killian pulled his car into the street, and he and Mary Margaret got out.
"Hey, mate," Killian started slowly, trying to come up with his best soothing voice. "I heard you're having a rough day."
"Says who?" Graham asked, clenching his jaw. Killian noticed the slight disarray of his clothes and the way his eyes were not completely focused.
"Graham," Mary Margaret started, taking a step towards him. "I told Killian. I'm worried about you: you were burning up, we need to get you home, have some rest."
"I'm fine, Mary Margaret," Graham spat and Killian moved closer to her instinctively. He knew rationally that Graham wasn't the type to hurt a lady, but Graham didn't seem to be in his right mind at the moment, so he didn't want to take any chances.
"You're not fine," he said firmly. "You just went to see a ten year old who believes fairytales are real for help."
"He's the only one making any sense," Graham said, looking around him frantically.
Mary Margaret started to move towards the sheriff and Killian held her arm, not really wanting for her to get so close. She turned around and gave him a look that was half understanding his concern and half 'I'll do what I please' stubbornness. Killian let go of her and she simply walked towards him.
"You're usually not like this, Graham," she said softly, her eyes searching his face, trying to understand. "What's really troubling you?" her voice was soft, as if she were soothing a frightened and wounded animal.
"It's my heart, Mary Margaret. I need to find it," he said feebly.
Killian almost took a step back, worried about Graham and the fact that he wasn't making any bloody sense, but Mary Margaret didn't even flinch. It seemed she was more used to hearing fables than Killian. She tilted her head, as if she were examining the man's words and taking them seriously.
"Okay," she said in a tone Killian was pretty sure she used to placate her students. "And how are you going to find it?"
"I just need to follow the wolf."
"Wolf?" Killian said in disbelief and Graham startled. Mary Margaret snapped her eyes at him and Killian felt the silent scolding she was bestowing upon him. Clearly his tone had set back the work she'd been doing in calming Graham and reaching to the bottom of the issue. She turned around, her hand reaching to touch Graham's face and making him look at her.
"Which wolf?" she asked, her tone the complete opposite of Killian's prior and he took note of how well Mary Margaret was handling this as opposed to him. She seemed to reach to Graham in a way he wasn't able at the moment.
"From my dreams. It's going to help me find my heart. I need my heart," Graham said in a desperate tone.
"Do you really think you have no heart?" she asked, her eyes boring into his, her hand still on his cheek.
"It's the only thing that makes sense," he whispered, closing his eyes, a tear running down his cheek. "It's the only thing that explains why I don't feel anything."
"Graham, look at me," Mary Margaret asked and Graham opened his eyes. Her hand moved slowly from his cheek and down his chest. She placed her palm flat over the left side of his chest, underneath his jacket and vest, pressing where his heart was. Graham looked mesmerized, not able to tear his eyes from her face. "You have a heart, Graham. I can feel it beating. It's real."
Graham shook his head but Mary Margaret didn't let go, taking his hand and placing is over hers. "See? You can feel it too," she said with a soft smile.
"It's the curse, Mary Margaret," he said in a strained voice, pushing her hand aside. "None of it is real."
"Graham," Killian said, taking a page of Mary Margaret's book and speaking softly, soothingly. "You can't really think that none of this is real. That we're cursed-"
Whatever words he was planning to say were cut off by Mary Margaret's gasp. She was looking at something behind Graham and she seemed in shock. Killian follower her stare and he had to refrain the colorful curse that came to his lips the moment he spotted a bloody wolf with two colored eyes looking at them. He'd only been able to catch a glimpse of it the night he arrived into town and he'd crashed the sign, but he'd bet all his money - and his existence - that this was the same wolf he'd spotted that night.
What in the blazes was happening in this town?
The wolf stood there for a moment, its eyes moving from Graham to Killian to Mary Margaret.
"Be careful," Mary Margaret said, her tone showing a slight hint of panic. Graham turned to look at her, giving her a soft smile, the first normal expression that Killian had seen in him that day.
"He's my friend. He won't hurt us," he promised. At that moment, the wolf ran away and Graham took after it. "But I have to follow it."
Mary Margaret exchanged a brief look with Killian, both of them sharing the same thought. They couldn't leave Graham alone. He quickly nodded before they followed Graham down the street.
/-/
Of course the bloody beast would lead them to a graveyard. What better place to look for a missing heart than a graveyard?
The wolf seemed to have vanished, and if it weren't for the three different people that had spotted it, Killian would have pegged it as a figment of his imagination by that point. But - and even if Graham might have been delusional - Mary Margaret had seen it too and she was currently between him and Graham, walking among the graves, looking for it.
What was becoming a fruitless search led them to the top of the hill, where an intricately carved mausoleum sat, noticeably better cared for than those around it.
"Perhaps we should head back," Killian said, but Graham was looking at the crypt and he'd gone paler than before.
"Graham? What is it?" Mary Margaret asked.
"It's my heart. It's in there," he announced as he took out his flashlight and made his way to the entrance.
"Mate, wait!" Killian called, pulling his flashlight and handed it over to Mary Margaret as he went after Graham.
"Stop! Graham, stop!" he called as he reached the man and pulled him gently out of the entrance. "You can't desecrate a grave like this."
"My heart is in there, Killian. I have to look in there," Graham pleaded.
Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that even if he were able to pull Graham away from here - resorting to physical force if needed - the man would come back at the first chance he'd got, and Killian and Mary Margaret wouldn't be there to help defuse any situation that this might trigger.
"Okay, but let me try," Killian said, trying to open the door and finding it stuck. "Stand back," he called as he gained momentum and then threw all of his weight into it, the door giving way under the force of his shoulder.
/-/
The crypt looked exactly as creepy as you'd imagine someplace would be if it were hiding human hearts. Killian stepped in, followed by Graham and Mary Margaret. Graham started to search frantically, going through each one of the shelves and shaking one of the urns.
"It's got to be in here, somewhere," he started to pull at the urns and even the shelves, trying to loosen some of the boards. "Maybe there's a hidden door. A lever. Something."
Killian exchanged a quick look with Mary Margaret before he slowly approached Graham. "Graham, mate," he started cautiously, not wanting to startle the already fragile state of mind of the sheriff. "There's nothing here."
"There has to be," Graham said stubbornly, his eyes scanning the crypt, his voice shaky with fear. "If there isn't, then-"
"It's okay," Mary Margaret said, her hands reaching for his arms and squeezing softly until she was able to calm him and have him focused on her. "It's going to be okay. I promise," she said with a soft smile and Graham tilted his head, nodding slowly.
The piercing sound of Regina's voice tore the fragile calm they'd just achieved. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Killian pulled Graham and Mary Margaret out of the crypt as his eyes focused on Regina. "Regina? What are you doing here?" he asked confused, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him.
"Bringing flowers to my father's grave like I do every Wednesday," she spat at them and Killian felt the blood in his body running cold at the implication of her words. He didn't have much time to react to the news before Regina had moved her attention to Mary Margaret.
"Miss Blanchard, I see that you've moved from giving damaging books to children, to disturbing the peaceful rest of the death."
"Don't blame her," Graham said, standing in front of Regina, leaving Mary Margaret protected behind him. "It's my fault. I wanted to look in there."
"Why? What were you looking for?"
"Nothing, it was nothing," Graham whispered defeatedly, his head hanging low, his shoulders slumped.
"You don't look well, dear. Let's take you home," Regina announced in a soft tone that had more than just a hint of patronizing in it. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the exit, but Graham broke free, taking a few steps back and reaching Mary Margaret's side.
"Regina, I… I don't want to go home. Not with you."
Regina gasped in surprise, her eyebrow raising for a moment. Her eyes transformed into a murderous glare the moment they set on Mary Margaret. "Oh. But you'll go with her."
"This is between you two, Madam Mayor," Killian said, his arm closing protectively around Mary Margaret's shoulder. "Leave her out of it."
"He's right," Graham said, turning to face her one more time. "This is between us and things have to change."
"I wonder why that is all of the sudden," Regina's eyes were still trained on Mary Margaret with such venom that Killian felt the need to simply pull her friend out of this situation and leave the other two to figure it out, but a quick glance from Mary Margaret told him she wasn't willing to leave Graham like this.
"It has nothing to do with her," Graham insisted. "You know, I've realized that I don't feel anything, Regina. And I know now it's not me – it's you."
Killian could see Regina's physical reaction to the punch Graham had thrown her with his words. She curled into herself for a moment before she bit back.
"What was it, Miss Blanchard? You couldn't steal David Nolan from his wife so you decide to take Graham from me instead?"
"Regina, I'm not leaving you for her. I'm leaving you for me," Graham insisted, his eyes looking for Killian and Mary Margaret for support. Regina's eyes throw murderous looks at them.
"I don't know what I ever did to you, Mr. Jones, to deserve this. To have you and your friend keep coming after everything I hold dear. My son, Graham-"
"Killian has nothing to do with this, Regina!" the other man shouted, running his hand through his hair. "This is about us, about me!"
"None of this happened until he got here," Regina's voice was so full of hatred that Killian took a step in front of Mary Margaret, shielding her from the words and the looks.
"Regina," he said softly, not wanting to antagonize the woman any further. "Henry came to find me. Graham is now making his own choices. This has nothing to do with me - or Mary Margaret. Perhaps," he sighed, "perhaps it's time for you to ask yourself why this is happening, instead of trying to find people to blame."
She was in front of him in an instant, the force of her slap enough to make his head turn to the side. He wasn't shocked by it. But it was better for her to redirect all her hate and frustration on him and leave Mary Margaret out of it.
"Regina!" Graham shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. He gave her one look before he tilted his head and motioned Killian and Mary Margaret to follow him as he left.
Regina called for him several times, but Graham never looked back.
/-/
It had been silent journey back to the station. Mary Margaret wanted to go with them, but Killian was determined that she stay back at the loft. She had been involved enough in this ordeal and as much as Killian wanted her and Graham to become a thing - eventually -now was not the time. So he dropped her off and then he and Graham made their way to the station.
The other man was calmer now, it seemed the fever and whatever had possessed him for the last few hours was gone.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind." They were sitting by the deputy desks. Killian had pulled his old flask out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket and served them both a healthy dose of rum into a couple of mugs.
"Don't fret. You were tired and feverish. And heartbroken," Killian dismissed the other man's apology. He knew a thing or two about broken hearts and bad relationships, and Graham's delusional ramblings were nothing compared to some of the things he'd done back in the day. He wasn't proud of any of it, but what was done was done and he couldn't turn back time.
"I don't know why I let myself get caught up with her in the first place." Graham sighed and took another sip of his mug.
"Because it was easy. And safe," Killian shrugged as he played with his own mug. "Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you feel sucks."
"You seem to know a lot about these things, Jones." Graham gave him an inquisitive look and Killian fidgeted under his stare. "Was it Henry's mother? Did you and her-"
Killian didn't let him finish the sentence. He couldn't bear the thought of someone thinking that, even if they never knew Emma. "Gods, no." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was pretty much everyone after her. But Emma, mate, she was everything." He trailed off, his mind going back to the moments he'd shared with Emma.
"Killian why are we stopping here? You know the last housekeeping shift was two hours ago, there is no way we can sneak in." She pouted and pointed to one of the rooms of the motel where he'd parked the Bug.
"We aren't sneaking in, not tonight." He pulled the key out of his leather jacket pocket. "I - I got us a room," he stammered, averting his eyes to avoid hers, his cheeks blushing.
"We can't afford this, Hook" she sighed, her tone soft and calm as she reached for his hand reassuringly. "The backseat of the Bug is more than fine… especially now that we sleep a lot closer than before." Her hand moved down to his knee, her voice low and slightly seductive.
He knew he was blushing but he looked at her anyway. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her curved smile changing into a "O" form. "Oh, Killian is that why you've been holding out on me? Because you think the Bug-"
He cut her off with a stutter. "You noticed?"
She rolled her eyes. "I might not have done it, but I'm not stupid, Killian. I know how things are supposed to go in these situations and clearly you have been holding back. Why? Is it me?" There was a hint of self-deprecation in her tone and Killian wanted to punch himself for making her hesitate like this.
"No, Emma." He reached out to kiss her, pouring everything he felt for her in that kiss. He rested his forehead against hers. "I just- you deserve better, so much better than me and the life I lead. The life I can give you. I just wanted to give you more, for one night at least. I wanted to give you a nice bed, soft sheets-"
"Stop it." She reached for his hand and pulled it to her heart. "You've given me so much and you don't even know it." She took the key from him with her free hand. "One night, huh?"
"For once, I want to fall asleep with you in my arms in a bed and pretend this is our life." His eyes bored into hers. "Nothing has to happen, that isn't why I-"
She cut him off with a searing kiss that left him dizzy. "But what if I want something to happen?"
He couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten to have Emma Swan in his life. His lips curved into a smirk. "Well, I suppose we could."
"Let's go inside, Killian."
"You really loved her, didn't you?" Graham's words shook him out of his thoughts and Killian realized he'd been staring at nothing, his eyes lost, the hint of a smile on his face. He nodded.
I love her still.
"Aye. We had nothing, and yet she made everything better. Every hardship, every bad turn life threw at us, none of it mattered when I got to hold her in my arms each night." He drained his mug, needing the rum to keep his emotions at bay. "After she left, it was hard to make room for anyone else. No one could make me feel like that. I don't know much about love, but I know that if you're not willing to give it all for the other person, then maybe it's best not to give them false hope."
Killian turned to look at Graham, but the other man's eyes were lost ahead of him, as if he were someplace else. Killian feared that he'd been pulled into his delusions again.
"Graham, are you okay?"
His eyes were glassy when he looked at Killian, a tear running down his face. "I remember."
"Remember? Remember what?"
But before he was able to say another word, Graham's face contorted in pain and he put his hand on his chest and grunted.
"Graham!" Killian yelled as he watched the other man collapse on the floor. "Mate!" He shook him by the shoulders, but Graham didn't respond. Desperate, Killian reached to feel his pulse. There wasn't any. Killian massaged Graham's chest as he started CPR. "Come on, Humbert!" he screamed, but it was pointless.
His heart was still and he had no pulse. Graham was gone.