A/N: YESSSS HERE IT IS. FINALLY, IM DONE WITH MY FIRST SEMESTER AT LAW SCHOOL AND IM DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER. And now i'll stop screaming at you. I've actually been working on this chapter little by little when I was trying to catch a break from my studying. But here it is! Chapter 10! I really think this has to be my favorite one by far! It gets a tad bit angsty...ok hella angsty, but fear not! I'll make it happy and wonderful again :) -Steph
Chapter 10
Emma waits and endures her situation until October, knowing fully that this was when Walsh's election was at its most important peak and at its most vulnerable. For months she tolerated his taunting, uncomfortable sensible suits, and the tightness around her mouth from all her forced smiles. Her sleepless nights were accompanied by Walsh and Zelena's lovemaking, and Emma was jealous not of her husband and his mistress, but of how much she missed how Killian made her feel. Speaking of Killian, Emma has lost almost every shred of hope of ever fixing things between them.
Last July Emma had gone back to New York and spent time with Mary Margaret and David. Turns out that with a new house in Gramercy Park, also came the conviction to conceive and they had Baby Neal in mid-July. Emma had managed to wiggle herself out of her duties with Walsh, convincing him that letting her be with her friend and her new baby was amazing publicity for his campaign. It probably wasn't, Emma just thought it'd be an amazing excuse to get away from this stifling new life she led.
Last July…
David picks Emma up at Grand Central with a bear hug and a huge grin on his face. Neither can believe how long it's been since they've seen each other last. Emma asks him about his new life as a father, how Mary Margaret is doing, what's been going on since she left. She wanted to scream if he knew anything about Killian, if he missed her, if she was going to see him, if he even cared about her, if he had found someone else.
No, scratch that. She didn't want to know about that last thing.
In the car, David talks his head off. He tells her he hasn't slept in the past weeks, he's had to change more diapers in one day than he ever thought was possible to do. He tells her that Mary Margaret barely lets Neal out of her sight, and that she's thinking of starting to work from home. She's in full mom-mode, he says. Completely obsessed with the kid, he continues grinning widely.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret greets as they reach the kitchen. Baby Neal is swaddled closely on one arm and a warm bottle of formula in the other. She's visibly tired, but glowing nonetheless. The sight is so perfect it makes Emma break out in the most genuine smile she has been able to muster in the past six months.
"Mags! Look at you, I've never seen you more in your element!" Emma replies, dropping her purse on the kitchen island and going over to hug Mary Margaret.
"This is Neal." Mary Margaret introduces, shifting the baby upwards and outwards into Emma's outstretched arms.
"I'm going to kill you for that name, you know." Emma teases before cooing at the baby in her arms.
"I know. I thought you might. But you know I've always liked it. It was either that or Leopold." Mary Margaret replies while fixing the blanket around Baby Neal.
"Which we were not naming our child after, no matter how much I like my father-in-law." David adds with a laugh, bringing a bottle of root beer up to his lips.
"So how's everything been around here?" Emma asks nonchalantly, slightly swaying the sleeping Baby Neal in her arms.
"Emma, just ask how Killian is." David replies matter-of-factly, giving her a knowing look.
"What are you talking about?" Emma asks flustered, knowing fully that there's no use in trying to cover-up. Mary Margaret isn't one to keep secrets for long, much less from her own husband.
"Oh, David knows." She adds right on cue.
"Mags!" Emma chastises, Mary Margaret's name coming out of her mouth with a tone of exasperation.
"I can't keep secrets, you know that." She shrugs.
"Please, like I even had to ask." David adds, his voice sounding mock-insulted. Emma just stares at him for a second before rolling her eyes.
"Fine, I'll ask. How is he?"
"He's been pretty rough ever since you left, to be honest." David concedes, one hand going to up to the back of his neck and the other placing the now empty bottle of root beer on the counter.
"Totally depressed. He comes over a lot, likes to play with Neal. Makes him happy." Mary Margaret adds, looking up to Emma from the kitchen stool she sits in, a sad small smile on her face.
"Oh. And has he-"Emma can't bring herself to finish the question. What right does she have to ask if he's found someone else? What right does she have to deprive him of future happiness with someone else, someone available, when all she's done is left him out in the cold thanks to her vindictive, slimy, husband.
"Has he what?" David asks.
"You know, found someone." Emma says it so quietly that she doesn't think they heard her until Mary Margaret replies.
"No. All he does is work. All routine." Mary Margaret tells her.
"Routine?" Emma asks as she gives Baby Neal back to Mary Margaret and takes a seat in another stool.
"Yeah, he works, he clocks out, he comes here about three times a week, he goes out for a drink on Friday, nurses his hangover on Saturday, and starts all over again." David explains.
"What does he do on Sundays?" Emma asks.
"During the day? No idea. Normally he comes over for dinner in the afternoon, though." Mary Margaret answers standing up and going to place the sleeping Baby Neal in the portable playpen in the living room.
"But is he okay?" Emma asks shyly. She just wants to know that he's okay, that he's coping with the situation better than she is.
"As good as he can be, Emma. He felt like he lost the love of his life, it takes a while to get over that." David answers her truthfully, placing his hand over hers in a sympathetic nature.
"I didn't mean for that to happen." Emma says quietly, half wishing she could reverse the clock and start over.
"Well, it's like I told you Emma. It ends one of two ways and it can't possible end well if you're playing with fire." Mary Margaret adds sympathetically. Emma scoffs at her comment, fully aware of just how bad she has been burned.
Emma wakes up around eight on a Thursday morning during her visit with the Charmings, deciding to take a run. She leaves Gramercy Park around eight thirty, her feet guiding her around familiar neighborhoods. At first it's hard to breathe, her sides aching. She's rusty.
Her mind races faster than how fast her feet could ever take her. Memories from the past year are zooming back into her mind. She misses her New York life more than she could ever express. She misses Killian. She hurt him, everything she feared feeling for herself for years, being left behind, someone she loves choosing someone else over her. She did that to him.
She chose Walsh. At the moment it did not feel like she had chosen Walsh. When she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, it felt like choosing to protect him was equal to choosing him. She understands how he didn't see it like that.
She had the chance to stand up to Walsh, to break things off with him, and give herself a shot at true happiness. Killian was willing to be there for her, but the moment she was faced with a decision, with a fork in the road, she chose the wrong path.
Her feet have dragged her up to the Upper West Side when she realizes just how long she has run. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize she had run four miles already. She had not realized that she had run all the way to her condo.
She doesn't go in, she decides. After she calls it quits with Walsh, this won't be her life anymore. Instead, she walks to Central Park and sits down in the first free bench she finds, downing a water bottle almost immediately, smiling at the kids incredibly invested in a puppet show a street performer is putting up across from her.
Emma decides to walk down the piers overlooking the Hudson River on her way back to Gramercy Park. She knows it's a detour, but she just can't get enough of the city. Her feet guide her again, her mind paying little to no attention to where she's headed. She's walked along these streets for so long that purpose and direction come as a second nature. She runs a bit more when she's regained her composure, her feet leading her right to the familiar Meat Packing District.
It's around eleven in the morning now. Memories flood her, she wonders if she'll see him. Emma wishes she knew what his morning routine was, that she had been able to experience breakfast in bed with him. He boasted so much about his omelets, she's kind of bummed she never got to try them. Gods, she misses him.
Emma walks into her favorite coffee shop, two blocks or so from his apartment building, craving some iced coffee to cool her down. It was high time she head back, nothing is more stifling than July in New York.
She's sitting outside the shop when she sees him again for the first time since he walked out on her office last December. He's standing outside his apartment entrance, looking the opposite direction. Emma can feel her heart try to beat itself out of her chest. She's rooted to the spot, not at all sure what her plan is at the moment. She almost drops her coffee and Emma has half a mind to throw herself into some bushes that grace the entrance of the building across the street.
Gods, he looks incredible, Emma can't help but think. Yes, there are visible dark circles that weren't there last December, and his already lithe body is a little thinner than what it used to be, but Emma still thinks he's the most attractive man she's ever laid eyes on. His hair had grown out of the undercut fade he used to have and he had stopped shaving. He was wearing his thick square glasses, the ones Emma used to make so much fun of. Emma unconsciously presses her thighs shut, trying to put out the fire that was quickly forming between them. She knew the moment she saw him she might not know what to do and she had come up with different plausible alternatives. This unadulterated sexual desire for him wasn't one of the alternatives. Her stomach keeps flipping, heat is pulsating throughout her core, and she swears the lady that's sitting next to her can hear the beat of her heart.
Emma can't believe she's been staring for as long as she has. Well, maybe since time seemed to stop when she saw him, it just seems like she's been in this situation for a lot longer. She's about to stand up and go to him, having resolved to put an end to this nonsense and talk to him and maybe kiss him senseless, when her excitedly beating heart plummets down to her stomach, lifeless.
Emma stands up from her table and runs as fast as her legs can take her in the opposite direction, trying hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat and erase the memory of the leggy brunette who had just exited Killian's apartment. Tears blurred Emma's vision as she tried to rid herself of the fact that the brunette had thrown her arms around his neck as he circled his arms around her waist and kissed him goodbye.
For most of her visit, Emma mopes. She spends most of her days switching between watching trashy reality TV and Mary Margaret's entire collection of romantic comedies. It was a Saturday around noon when Mary Margaret tries to force Emma to leave the house and go for a walk. Emma had just finished watching Love Actually and had tear stained cheeks.
"What is this Christmas in July? Emma, what are you doing?" Mary Margaret reprimands, a sleeping Baby Neal swaddled tightly on top of her chest. She takes the remote and turns off the TV.
"I'm just relaxing and watching lovely movies about finding love in the most peculiar situations under ninety minutes or less." Emma responds thickly after swallowing a wad of ice cream and stabbing the spoon forcefully back into the pint of rocky road.
"Except, Love Actually is like three hours long and you've been crying for the last two." Mary Margaret replies with a roll of her eyes as she starts picking up the bags of hot Cheetos that have cluttered her coffee table and shoving them down a trash bag.
"It's 136 minutes long, Mags. That's two hours and sixteen minutes." Emma replies, thrusting the DVD case underneath Mary Margaret's nose.
"You really need to get your life together." Mary Margaret replies, clearly annoyed with Emma.
"I don't have a life." Emma mumbles, sucking on the spoon.
"Yes, you do. You're just too cowardly to live it." Mary Margaret snaps, taking the spoon and pint away from her and throwing the pint into the trash alongside the hot Cheetos.
"Or I'm being threatened by my husband with the possible death of my ex, the man I truly love, who by the way wants nothing more to do with me and is possibly dating another woman. I have no job, no friends in DC, absolutely nothing to live for." Emma whines dramatically, throwing the knitted blanket over her head.
"Get over yourself." Mary Margaret responds.
"Excuse me?" Emma asks incredulously, green eyes peeking from the edge of the blanket. She has never heard Mary Margaret talk to her like that.
"Get up, take a shower, and get over yourself. If you're that miserable with Walsh put an end to it. If you want Killian back, tell him that you love him. I remember being in a similar situation years ago and you talked the same way to me. You're getting nowhere by moping around."
"I'm waiting for the opportune moment to end it with Walsh." Mary Margaret rolls her eyes, her right leg jutting out, and her arms placed menacingly on her hips.
"Why?" Emma wants to desperately throw a cushion at Mary Margaret, but the sleep-deprived woman in front of her is not a person she wants to mess with.
"Because I need him to be at his most vulnerable, that way he can't possibly refuse." Emma states defiantly.
"And what about Killian? Mary Margaret raises her eyebrows inquisitively.
"I don't know. I know you said that he is not seeing anyone but that's not the vibe I got on Thursday when I went jogging and I saw a stupid Victoria's Secret type brunette with her arms all around him and kissing him." Emma may sound bitter, but she's not bitter. She's not bitter at all. This doesn't faze her.
"That explains the last three days and I doubt that girl is serious, he would've told David about it already. He's coming over to dinner tonight; he just called to tell me. I can dig around if you want." Emma is over the conversation; she can't sit here another moment and ponder what-ifs in regards to Killian. Mary Margaret may be the poster child for hope, but it's not doing Emma any good.
"Mags, I think I will take that walk." Emma tells her, not intending to be anywhere near Killian in the state she's in.
"Will you be home for dinner?" Mary Margaret asks concernedly.
"Don't hold your breath." Emma responds standing up and clearing up the mess she's made.
"You're going to have to see him tomorrow, you know." Mary Margaret says matter-of-factly.
"Why?" Emma groans with discomfort. After her jog, seeing Killian is the absolute last thing she ever wants to do. Plus, what if he brings over his brunette bombshell? Emma is not sure she could handle that.
"It's Neal's christening tomorrow, remember?" Emma did not remember, she forgot that her visit had a point other than getting away from Walsh. She locks eyes with Mary Margaret and notices unease behind the brunette's eyes.
"Let me guess. Killian's the godfather?" Emma asks with a dry laugh and a run of her hands through her long blonde locks.
"Is that okay?" Mary Margaret asks her sincerely.
"Mags, I'm not going to tell you who gets to share godparent duties with me. It's your baby, your choice." Emma says after a few moments, not able to let her personal issues with Killian get in between Mary Margaret and David's plans.
"Yes, but are you comfortable with that choice?" Mary Margaret asks knowingly.
"Absolutely." Not. Absolutely not, Emma can't help but think.
The next day she's an emotional wreck. How is she going to go through with this? What if he brings Brunette Bombshell? What if he's actually really nice with her? Would something happen to him if Walsh found out they were in the same room together? What if he's an absolute asshole? How much concealer will it take to erase these goddamn dark circles under her eyes? She bets Brunette Bombshell doesn't need concealer, she just wakes up as fresh faced and beautiful as ever.
Emma settles on a fitting beige pencil dress and matching beige leather pumps. Her hair cascades down in loose curls, her lips are painted with a matte brick red lipstick, and her eyes sport a winged out cat-eye. She spends more than an hour getting ready, hoping that looking this fantastic would let Killian know that she wasn't fazed by his presence.
When she goes downstairs everyone else has gone. Mary Margaret, David, Baby Neal, and both sets of grandparents alongside David's twin brother James were most likely already waiting at the church for the christening. The church was a handful of blocks away and Emma decides to walk. As she walks through the double doors of the church's entrance, she'd be lying if she said the sight of Killian in his tailored navy suit didn't knock the air out of her lungs.
Emma notices that his jaw clenches the moment his eyes lock with hers. Gods, how she had missed those piercing blue eyes. She gives him a small smile and he nods at her, his chest rising slowly with the deep breath he takes. She feels instant gratification when doesn't see any sign of Brunette Bombshell. Emma: 1, B.B.: 0.
Emma consciously stays away from him until it's inevitable to do so, until the priest calls the godparents and they stand up together. His hand instinctively goes towards the small of her back, leading her, guiding her, helping her up the steps. Emma feels as if she's been burned, the piece of skin still prickling with the ghost of his touch as he quickly takes his hand off her. Emma can feel her heart in her throat, and she wonders if he can feel the same. Her breaths are shallow and so are his, his eyes never leave hers as they're handed Baby Neal. They hold the baby together, their eyes never leaving the others. His fingers graze hers, sending goosebumps throughout her entire body, and the heat that she felt the other day starts to rise up from her stomach. It's a surreal experience, how he's so close to her, their hands touching, looking at each other more intensely than they ever have before.
Whatever the priest says is muffled to Emma, and she suspects it is also muffled to Killian. She sees him swallow thickly, and she wonders how it would feel to have his stubble scratch her skin raw as she kisses him deeply. Clearly, these are not thoughts one should have in a church. The priest finally finishes and she breaks eye contact with Killian, standing back as he hands Baby Neal over to Mary Margaret and David.
Back at the house, Emma feels like she can't handle all this. Killian keeps making eye contact with her, and every time she feels herself go weak at the knees. She needs to go, she needs to get out of this room, needs to stop feeling like she needs air. She grabs a champagne flute on her way out and downs it in two gulps, placing it on a mantle piece as she turns to go up the stairs. She feels him behind her moments later, walking with as much fervor as she is. She just needs to get to her room; once she does everything will be fine. He walks past her and grabs her arm forcefully, dragging her into the nearest room he finds.
He locks the door before he pushes her against the wall and presses his lips up to hers. His mouth is rough against hers, but also so very welcome. Emma almost melts into the kiss before she realizes that this kind of behavior isn't welcome at all. The sole reason she broke it off with him was for her husband to keep him alive, and Killian shoving her into a linen closet, his mouth on hers, his tongue battling with her own, one hand tugging at her hair and the other palming her breast over her dress, is definitely counter productive.
Emma pushes him back and automatically slaps him across the cheek. He staggers back a few steps, eyes wide, chest rising quickly with his shallow breaths. Suddenly she realizes that she doesn't care, that after all this time he still wants her as much as he wants him. She walks towards him and while cupping his face with her hands she pulls him back into a searing kiss. He groans into her mouth, pushing her back against the wall. Her right leg props around his waist when he shoves his knee in between her legs and Killian uses the leverage to slip two fingers into her wet folds.
"Fuck, you're soaked." He breathes into her neck before he starts pumping his fingers in and out of her, his thumb lazily ghosting against her clit, a moan threatening to escape from her lips. Emma's legs feel like jelly at the time, and he's the only thing keeping her standing. She can feel the familiar heat of an orgasm tugging at her abdomen, Killian's handiwork threatening to push her over the edge. He senses it and pushes the top of her dress down her shoulders, exposing her white lace bra. It only takes Emma moments to start building up a sure fire orgasm the moment when he closes his mouth around her exposed breast, his mouth alternating between his teeth biting her nipple gently and his tongue flicking at it in synch. He nods onto her chest when he feels her breaths getting quicker, shallower, and whimpers start leaving her lips. Suddenly, white-hot pleasure erupts within her leaving her breathless, a scream muffled by his hand over her lips.
Still in the daze of her orgasm, it takes Emma a moment to realize that Killian has turned her around, hoisted up her dress, and basically ripped off her matching white lace panties. Her inner walls are still throbbing when she feels him enter her from behind. Killian stills and rests his head against her shoulder.
"Fuck. I missed you, Swan." He mumbles, biting her shoulder lightly as he starts to buck against her. He slams into her harder and harder each time, making Emma relish in the absolutely sinful, painful, pleasure of it all. One of his hands still palming her breast, the other turning her face towards him and crashing his lips against hers. He bites her lower lip, making Emma moan rather loudly. He shushes her, and tells her to behave. She can feel that he's close to his fall before he slips his hands to the front of her and his fingers start fumbling against her clit, adding delicious pressure to her pelvic bone. Emma feels her own wave of pleasure coming back. He thrusts into her a handful of times before he comes, bringing her over the edge with him.
Emma goes to kiss him but he turns his face and slips into his pants instead. He runs a hand through his hair and waits for her to fix her dress. When she does he holds the door open for her and walks out after her.
"I made a mistake." Emma hears herself say. This whole experience seemed like a dream.
"We both did. It won't happen again." He was talking about the sex, Emma realized. He moves to walk away from her before he hears her give an incredulous laugh that sounded more like half a sob.
"I meant, leaving New York and going to DC with Walsh, leaving you." She tells him quietly, trying to keep her voice from breaking. Call her foolish, but she half thought that this would fix things between them. He narrows his eyes at her.
Killian nods and walks towards her. "That wasn't a mistake," he tells her quietly. "That was you giving up on us, that was betrayal. But I guess I should've known, because that's what you're best at." Emma feels as though she has been slapped.
She looks at him with her eyes big, tears threatening to well inside of them.
"We're done." He says. Emma can't bear to look at him. "I may not be able to control myself around you, but that does not mean that I want you. We are done."
He leaves her then. Emma stays rooted in the spot for a good solid ten minutes before Mary Margaret calls for her.
Emma is back in New York in late November, renting a one-bedroom apartment in Lower Manhattan and working freelance for the time being. She has a meeting with a client in half an hour and she's anxious. She instinctively goes to twist the rings on her fingers only to find that there are no rings there anymore. She has to keep reminding herself that there are no more rings anymore, no more attachments. When she came back from New York in late July she continued with her plan to wait until October to demand Walsh to grant her a divorce or she would spread the video of him and Zelena like wildfire, and call it A Night With The Washington Monument. He granted her request almost immediately and two weeks later he had no wife, no lover, and no job. Zelena having left him the second he lost the election to a senator from Upstate New York instead.
As for Killian, she has yet to see him. After Emma told Mary Margaret about the incident in her linen closet, (which amongst other things Mary Margaret told her that they needed to "stop defacing her property! I mean really, have you no decency? Why can't you have sex in your respective apartments?"), Mary Margaret has been kind enough to not schedule Emma's dinner invites with Killian's. And for Emma, for now, that's okay. Right now her happy ending doesn't need to reside in her love affairs with the men in her life or lack thereof. Her happy endings reside in herself, starting over a new page, and being brave enough to move on, and that's more than she ever hoped for this time last year.