A/N- Hey all! I've emerged from the cave that's law school studies! I haven't forgotten about you and here after many days of slow work I finally have the eighth chapter up! I hope y'all like it! I hope y'all are enjoying the copious amounts of beautiful Captain Swan we're getting on the showwww, I know I am!

Reviews are always appreciated and if you have tumblr don't be afraid to say hi at .com! 3

-Steph

Chapter 8

It means a lot to Emma that Killian has given her the space she needs to talk to Mary Margaret after she caught them mid-makeout. In a moment like this, some women might want their partner to stand beside them and give them strength. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, but he knows that Emma thrives within her independence and the best thing that he could do was to let her talk to Mary Margaret on her own. Mary Margaret is pacing in the study when Emma meets her.

"Mags…"Emma starts. Mary Margaret looks at her briefly and continues pacing.

"Emma, what are you thinking?" She finally says after a few moments, in the most motherly tone she can muster.

"Please don't give me that tone, you're not my mother." Emma responds curtly, moving to sit on top of the desk, arms crossed on top of her chest.

"I can't help it." Mary Margaret tells her matter-of-factly.

"I know."

"I'm just so…so confused. What is going on? How long has it been going on? What are you doing? What is he doing? Is this serious? Are you guys a thing now? Is this why you want a divorce? Are you just fooling around?" She rambles, her pacing getting faster.

"Mags, breathe." Emma tells her, an incredulous smile gracing her lips.

"Sorry, I'm just shocked. Why didn't you tell me anything?" Mary Margaret demands.

"Well that's the thing about affairs, you kind of have to keep them quiet." Emma offers.

"Don't be a smartass." Mary Margaret snaps, her pacing coming to a halt.

"I'm really not trying to be." Emma says quietly.

"Is it serious?" Mary Margaret asks earnestly.

"I don't know." Emma doesn't want to hope, not yet. Killian is perfect and she loves him, but part of her wonders if he's just an escape to her or if it's the real deal.

"You don't know?" Mary Margaret's voice is back to its shrill incredulous tone.

"No…I mean, I'd like it to be." Emma offers quietly.

"How long has this been going on?" Mary Margaret keeps the interrogation.

"You know, just a couple of months." Emma is really trying to evade answering her with the truth.

"How long, Emma." Mary Margaret asks with more force.

"Give or take six months…"

Realization dawns on Mary Margaret's features quickly. She goes from looking shocked, disgusted, impressed, and angry all in a manner of two seconds.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god! You had sex with him at my wedding, didn't you? That's why you disappeared! That's why you were acting weird the morning after! I knew it! You had the same face you'd get in undergrad after a one-night stand." She's rounding up on Emma, who's now gone from sitting on the desk to moving behind the couch and using a cushion as a shield.

"Shut up." Emma sighs as she decides to slump on the couch instead of hiding behind it. Mary Margaret decides to slump right next to her.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Mary Margaret asks quietly.

"What do you mean?" Emma asks tiredly, slouching further down the couch and resting her head against the back of it.

"I mean, it's an affair. They end one of two ways, either you leave your husband for your lover or it comes and bites you in the ass and one of you ends up dead. Are you going to tell Walsh? You have to do something, Emma." Emma wishes Mary Margaret would breathe every once in a while, she also wishes Mary Margaret wouldn't worry for her.

"I'm just taking it day by day. And none of us is going to end up dead." Emma responds, digging the heel of her palm into her eyes trying to block out the conversation with the dark spots that appear with the pressure.

"This is going to bite you in the ass, you're ridiculous." Mary Margaret offers with a chuckle.

"Mags, I know what I'm doing." Emma retorts exasperatedly. Her tone reignites the fire under Mary Margaret's temper. She rounds on Emma.

"No you don't! You said it yourself, you're taking it day by day! What you are is playing with fire, Emma." Mary Margaret raises her voice, completely disregarding her decorum in regards to the party.

"Does it matter? Mags, I'm happy for once!" Emma matches her tone.

"What happens when Killian gets tired of chasing you or your husband leaves you? Your husband, who's a senator by the way and he's not going to take a scandal lightly. What happens then, Emma?" Emma knows it's taking everything in Mary Margaret's power not to grab Emma by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

"He's not going to leave me." Emma says defiantly.

"Walsh isn't going to leave you when he realizes that you've been cheating on him for months?" Mary Margaret scoffs and retorts incredulously.

"Killian. I meant Killian, he's not going to leave me." Emma says even more forcefully.

"Why does that even matter? He's not the man you're married to." The way Mary Margaret says this so nonchalantly makes the last ounce of calm Emma was harboring completely evaporate out of her system and get replaced by outward rage.

"Because he loves me, Mary Margaret! And he's never stopped loving me. And I love him! And ever since he came back into my life I haven't been borderline suicidal anymore! And that matters! He makes me feel alive, he makes me want to be alive and that is much more than my husband has ever done for me! My husband already left me. He left me for dead in the Upper West Side! He had an affair with his job and with whatever sleazy campaign intern he's had. Why does he get to enjoy his life and I don't? I am happy. Killian makes me happy and he makes me feel loved, and that's all I've ever wanted." It's real. Emma knows for sure now, what she feels for Killian is real.

"If you're happy, then I'm happy." Mary Margaret responds quietly, but sincerely.

"I've never been happier." Emma reaffirms earnestly.

"Then that settles it. I need to get back to the party." Mary Margaret stands up and smoothes the front of her dress.

"Yeah, you go. I'll be out in a second." Emma nods, her fingers wiping at the tears that threatened to stream down her face.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret asks from the door.

"Yeah?" Emma looks up, meeting Mary Margaret's concerned face.

"Just be careful." She pleads.

"I will, I promise."

"Emma?" Killian's voice travels into the study as he peeks from the door. Emma's stomach does a flip when she sees him.

"Hey, stranger." She gives him a sad smile.

"You alright, love?" He asks as he comes nearer and sits down next to her. Her head immediately finds the crook of his neck. His arm naturally snakes around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. Emma wishes she could stay there forever.

"I think so." She answers him finally, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" He asks her quietly. Emma is relishing in the comfort his hand tracing circles across her bare shoulders is giving her. Normally, she'd be embarrassed that she's broken out into goosebumps, but right now she could careless.

"As good as it could've." She answers flatly. "We should go inside." She mutters before kissing him on the cheek and standing up.

"Are you sure you're alright, love?" He asks, still sitting.

"Yes, Killian. I'm fine." He gives her a stern look, clearly challenging her statement. "I promise." She insists, handing out her arm to pull him off the couch.

"Do I look okay?" Emma asks, smoothing the front of her dress and trying to wipe off any residue tears that might've escaped onto her cheeks.

"As beautiful as ever, love."

"Emma!" Mary Margaret calls her name, her voice coupled with a frantic edge, eyes open wide. "Guess who's here?" She says extra brightly, trying to mask her evident anxiety. Emma cocks her eyebrows inquisitively at her, when she suddenly goes blind by someone's hands covering her eyes.

Oh, no.

"Hey beautiful." Walsh's voice greets her as he whispers into her ear. Suddenly Emma's world goes black. She's in such a catatonic state, this can't possibly be happening.

"Walsh!" she answers, hoping it sounds cheery instead of frantic. "I thought you were in Albany tonight."

"Ithaca. I couldn't miss this though, not after I missed David and Mary Margaret's wedding. So I decided to wrap things up early, pick up some Veuve Cliquots for the party, and head on over." He answers with a grin, snaking his arm around Emma's waist.

"Come here you, I haven't seen you in weeks." He says and pulls her towards him, taking her aback with a kiss on her lips and a bone-crushing hug. His lips feel so strange on her lips now, he tries to part them with his tongue but she doesn't let him. She needs to get away from him, she doesn't want to touch him, and she doesn't want to kiss him.

"Someone is antsy. You're not looking for an escape route are you?" He laughs as his lips leave her lips and press against her temple instead. She shakes her head to answer his question. Answering him is the last thing she cares about, all she cares about is the fact that she can't find Killian anywhere. He's not in her line of vision, nor is he anywhere in the room. Three minutes ago he was right beside her, so close that their hands were almost touching, and now she's in the arms of her husband and all she wants is to tell Killian that she wishes it was he who kissed her in the middle of the room in a crowded party and not Walsh.

Finally she sees him coming out of the kitchen, a bottle of Guinness making its way up to his lips. She gives him an apologetic look. She'd go over to him if it weren't for the fact that Walsh has his arm draped so tightly around her shoulders that she's basically anchored to his side. He finally meets her frantic gaze after what feels like an eternity. He smiles at her but it feels forced, strained. His eyes are dark, clearly annoyed. He scoffs to himself as he brings up the Guinness back up to his lips, downs what's rest of it in one gulp, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Killian moves to go back to the kitchen when David pulls him over to their general direction. David, Mary Margaret, Walsh and Emma (though not really Emma, she wasn't listening at all) were in mid-campaign conversation.

"Ah, who's this?"

"Walsh, I just wanted to introduce you to Killian. He moved here a couple of months ago, we were all good friends during undergrad." David boasts, shoving a reluctant Killian towards the front. Walsh eagerly shakes his hand. Emma tries to squirm out of his arm still tightly slung around her shoulders. Mary Margaret looks like she's about to pass out.

"Pleasure, mate." Killian replies, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"So, you all met in undergrad then?" Walsh continues.

Emma cannot believe this is happening. This just isn't happening. It's all a dream, she's dreaming. She's in Killian's bed and she's having a nightmare and she'll wake up soon enough and he's going to kiss her temple and tell her everything is all right. Yes, that's what is going to happen.

"Aye, when we all studied abroad." Killian answers him.

Why is Killian answering him? He shouldn't be talking to her husband. Lovers do not talk to husbands. Emma is going to pass out she knows it.

"Explains the accent." Walsh continues.

"Very intuitive." Whoa, can Killian be a little less of an asshole? I mean, Emma doesn't want him to be talking to Walsh but he could at least fake that he likes him. Right? Is that a thing that lovers do when they talk to their mistresses' husbands?

"Were you all good friends then? Or was it just you and David?" Emma really wants Walsh to leave, to shut up. She wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole. This conversation just needs to end.

"We were all pretty close." Mary Margaret quips up. Emma can tell Mary Margaret is almost as frantic to end this conversation as Emma.

"I'll say! Walsh, Emma and Killian here used to have a bit of a thing back in the day." David laughs.

Suddenly, Emma wants to wring David's neck.

"Should I be jealous?" Walsh asks her, hugging her closer to him.

"Not at all, mate." Killian answers.

"Em, I feel like you should tell me that your college sweetheart was in town." Walsh continues, giving a hearty laugh.

"We're not college sweethearts." Emma mumbles. Can she die now? God can smite her any time now. Really, she'd be super cool with it.

"Are you kidding? They were inseparable." David.

David.

"We're just friends now, though." Emma says quickly, shooting a look at Killian. She hopes he'll say he has to leave, get another Guinness, anything to wrap up the conversation. Killian meets her eyes and meets her pleading glare, cocking his head inquisitively.

"We work together now actually, spending almost every day together. Better be careful, mate, we might even rekindle our past love affair." Killian answers instead, his usual playful banter back in his voice. Walsh laughs.

Add Killian's neck to the list of necks Emma wants to wring.

"Do you now? Emma, should I be getting worried?" Walsh asks her teasingly.

"Don't be ridiculous." She snaps, shooting daggers at Killian.

"Yeah, all in the past." Killian adds flatly.

"I'm going to get a drink." Emma says, turning on her heels and heading towards the kitchen.

"Get me a beer, will you sweet-cheeks?" Walsh asks after her.

"You got it, babe." She replies flatly.

Emma needs to get out, she needs to run, she needs to breathe. She walks straight past the kitchen (grabbing a glass of champagne on the way out) and exits to the dark garden outside. The air is cool against her flushed cheeks, it pierces her lungs as she takes breath after deep breath. Emma finds the darkest corner and slides down onto the concrete.

She can't do this.

Mary Margaret was right.

She's way in over her head.

"Swan, get up." Killian says, kneeling in front of her.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Go away." She mutters.

"No."

"Go. Away." She says forcefully this time. The last thing she wants is for anyone to be here. She needs to breathe. She needs to be alone. That's how she works best.

"Emma, you can keep saying that but I am not going anywhere." He responds, tilting her face towards his, green eyes meeting blue.

"Why not?" She asks him quietly.

"Because I love you, you daft, senseless woman." He rolls his eyes, smiling at her nonetheless.

"Are you crazy? Don't say that!" She whispers frantically, turning her face away from his.

"I'll say it whenever I want to say it." He tells her, straightening up and helping her stand up with him.

"My husband is inside, Killian." She whispers, looking back at the door.

"So? Do you want me to go in and tell him? I'll tell him. I'll tell him right now." He turns her face back towards him. He's close, too close. So close she can feel his warm breath on her cheek. The warmth in her stomach grows, all she wants is to fall into his arms and ask him to never let go.

But Walsh is right inside, and try as she might she cannot let Killian kiss her right there. Walsh could see them at any time.

"Killian, stop. Please." She pleads quietly.

"No, Emma. If I've learned anything tonight is that I can't tolerate to watch him put his arms on you, kiss you, or call you his ever again. I need you to be mine, and only mine." He sounds desperate, pained.

"Killian…" Her voice trails off as his gaze meets hers. She can see his vulnerability; she can see his fear of losing her.

"Leave him." Killian says.

"I can't." She wants to. She wants to leave Walsh, she does but this is all happening too fast. She feels the anxiety creeping up her chest, constricting, closing her windpipes.

"You can't?" He asks her incredulously.

"I want to." He lets a out a shaky breath. Meanwhile hers get shallow and she's back to twisting the rings around her finger borderline at the speed of light.

"Then do it." Killian tells her.

The door opens and they spring away from each other instinctively.

"Emma! There you are sweet-cheeks! I was beginning to worry about you." Walsh long legs close the gaps between them quickly. They're done for. He has to know.

"Walsh." She says, her breath still shaky and shallow. Her voice is stuck in the back of her throat.

"She's fine, mate. She just had a small panic attack about the campaign we're working on. Due Tuesday." Killian covers for her.

"Right, the marketing campaign. I just needed some air." She's so nervous she can't even speak.

"Em, are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?" Walsh asks her, concerned. He slides his arm around her, helping her keep steady. She meets Killian's gaze and gives him a small smile as Walsh thanks him for helping her out.

"You should get some rest, Swan." Killian tells her, patting her on the shoulder.

"Yeah, okay." She mumbles.

"I'll see you bright and early on Monday." He grins at her, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Walsh asks Emma, sliding off his tie from his collar. They're back in their dim, cold, dead apartment.

"Yeah." Emma says lightly as she starts wiping off residue makeup with a wipe.

"Are you alright?" He asks her as he kneads his hand into her shoulder. She flinches, she's not used to his touch anymore. It's foreign and unwelcome.

"I'm still trying to calm down from earlier." She answers him. "You know, I wish you would've told me you were coming back today." She continues, pulling down the comforter from her side of the bed and climbing underneath the covers.

"Last minute thing, I thought I'd surprise you." He says with a small smile.

"I was definitely surprised." She tells him, checking her phone.

"So, can you indulge me for a few minutes?" He asks her as he stands in front of their dresser and takes off his cufflinks.

"What do you mean?" She asks, not looking at him but instead answering a text from Killian.

"I just want to catch up, I feel like I haven't talked to you in weeks." He says calmly.

"Can it wait? I'm so tired." She pleads.

"It'll only be for a few minutes, babe." He contends.

"Okay."

"How long have you been screwing, Killian?" The question comes out of nowhere, knocking the air out of Emma's lungs in the process.

"What? What are you talking about? We're friends." She says stoically, staring unwaveringly almost defiantly at him. Walsh nods and walks over to his briefcase, takes out a manila envelope, and drops it on the bed, directly in front of Emma.

Her fingers tremble as she opens it and she takes out a packet of ten or fifteen photos. Photos of her having dinner with Killian, of them working together, late nights at the office, walks down the Meat Packing District, photos in his apartment, and photos of them laying naked on his bed.

"You've been following me?" She asks quietly, angrily.

"I'm a politician. You're my wife, of course I had you followed." He answers simply.

"Walsh, what the fuck?" She asks loudly, anger seeping through her every pore.

"I'm sorry. I'm the one being cheated on and you're outraged?" He matches the tone of her voice.

"You're having me followed." She spits out through gritted teeth.

"And you're cheating on me." She wants to fucking kill him. She's never felt so betrayed in her entire life.

"Oh, like you're such a saint!" She shouts, throwing the pictures at him.

"It's not my fault that I can keep my affairs quiet. You've been sloppy, Emma. Plain and simple." She hates him. She should've ended it months ago.

"You're vile." She's shaking from anger and tears are prickling the back of her eyes. She wants to cry from rage.

"How long?" He asks her. The fact that his voice is so calm and collected is riling her up anymore.

"Since June." She tells him.

"Are you going to end it?" He asks almost in a singsong tone.

"I wasn't planning on it." She responds, matching his tone. Walsh rolls his eyes.

"Emma, end it. It's election year, I cannot have and I will not tolerate a scandal." His voice is firm and authoritative again.

"I'm not ending it." Emma is defiant, she will not be belittled by him.

"Yes, you are." He reaffirms forcefully.

"I love him, Walsh. I'm in love with him." There they are, all the cards are on the table, and she doesn't care anymore. She slides out of bed and starts making her way to the closet to pick up a sweatshirt and slip on some yoga pants.

She's leaving him. Tonight.

"Emma this isn't a discussion. I'm telling you to end it or I will end it for you." He rounds on her, grabbing her wrists forcefully. She can feel the bruises forming.

"What if I don't want to? What are you going to do to me, then?" She wrestles out of his grasp and tries to get back on her route to the closet. Walsh follows her and grabs her by the arm, yanking her back to him.

Emma is terrified, but she won't let on.

She's getting out of that apartment tonight.

"It's not what I'll do to you, Emma. It's what I'll do to him." Walsh's eyes bore into hers, his thumbs digging into her upper arms.

"I don't appreciate your empty threats, Walsh." She tells him through gritted teeth.

"You don't believe me?" He looks crazed and she's terrified, but he lets her go. Walsh walks over to the dresser and gets a remote out from his top drawer. He turns towards her, presses the red button on the top, and the wood panel behind the bed moves down to show two twenty inch TVs embedded into the wall. When the screens light up there's two opposing views into Killian's apartment. One looks into his bedroom, the other onto his living room. Killian is sitting on the couch, giving his back to the camera. A scream dies in Emma's throat as she notices a red laser circle appear on the back of Killian's head.

She turns toward Walsh feeling defeated, terrified, and willing to do anything to keep Killian alive.

"What do you want?" she asks quietly.

Walsh grins.

"I knew you'd come around, baby."

A/N: The shit hath hiteth the fan...eth.