ONE MORE MOTHERCHUKIN DAY!
I am uploading this chapter now, before my death, so you may have at least some semblance of closure. On another note - thank you so much for your support and reviews! I just want to give you all chocolate chip cookies with extra chocolate chips. Cudos to Nicole the fabulous for beta-ing.
"Choose," the man on the screen demanded, pointing the gun at Henry's head. Killian's fists clenched as he watched the young man recoil before swallowing and opening his eyes to meet Gabriel's stare dead-on. Defiant to the end, Killian thought morbidly. Beside him Emma was stiff as a board, her eyes locked onto the monitor with unmatched concentration. On his other side David was rubbing his chin nervously.
They were all silent as they waited.
There was a resounding click as Gabriel pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Henry didn't move though, staring unflinchingly up at his captor.
"Choose," he commanded mercilessly.
Henry shook his head almost imperceptibly, "I won't do it."
There was another click. Ruby jumped this time when the gun failed to go off and he glanced at Emma to gauge her reaction. It was the first time he'd seen her completely unguarded; her face portraying every single emotion as it crossed her mind. The obvious and potent pain it was causing her to see this only fueled the rage and hatred he felt towards Anthony Reed – fucked up multiple-personality or no.
"Life is a choice," Gabriel said indifferently, pulling the trigger again.
Click.
"No," Henry murmured.
Click.
"Choose."
Killian saw as something strange flickered in the kid's eyes; not fear or even acceptance but realization. He looked down at the ground and bit his lip for a moment before opening his mouth as if trying to figure out what to say. Gabriel pulled the firearm back marginally, staring at Henry until finally he stuttered out a response.
"I choose… David Nolan."
Ruby gasped and Killian and Phillip both turned to look at their Unit Chief with a mixture of shock and confusion. David simply continued to stare at the screen, his hand dropping from his chin as he searched the monitors for something no one else could see.
"He's a classic narcissist – thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23, 4: Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense," Henry said, glancing at the camera once. Gabriel lifted the gun again but aimed it above his head.
There was a resounding boom as he pulled the trigger and a shot was successfully fired into the wall behind Henry. It didn't go amiss to Killian that the kid had just escaped death again by a hair's breadth – one more defiant refusal and Henry's brain matter may well have been splayed across the dirty corrugated iron wall behind him. As the gunshot resonated in the small room on the screen, the monitor was suddenly black and everyone stood in motionless silence for a long moment. Suddenly, David spun on his heel and stormed out of the room. Phillip and Killian were immediately following him to their makeshift HQ where he picked up a book and started rifling through it frantically.
As he turned around, he looked up at them, "I'm not a narcissist."
Phillip put a hand on the back of one of the chairs, "You can't take what he said to heart – he knows you're the toughest on our team –"
"No, stop! Seriously, stop," David insisted, his expression lacking in the antagonism one might expect after being called an egotistical narcissist. His eyes darted between the two men and he stumbled trying to vocalize his thoughts.
"Okay, both of you – what's my worst quality?"
Killian exchanged an unsure glance with Phillip, silence enveloping the room. David sighed, "Okay, I'll start. I'm sometimes a drill sergeant."
Killian nodded in agreement, "You often pry into our lives." David nodded affirmation, looking to Phillip for more. The British man shrugged and fumbled for words for a moment.
"You – um – sometimes… you blatantly ignore the rules if it means getting a job done," he suggested meekly. Killian shook his head minutely and looked towards the Unit Chief who nodded all the same, though there was a glint of affection in his eyes as he considered the psychological expert who clearly had a difficult time seeing the worst in others. British through and through, Killian thought to himself.
"All true," David conceded, "But neither of you said that I ever put myself above the team because I don't - ever." The two agents nodded, waiting for him to elucidate.
"Henry and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism at the Super bowl party and he knew that I would remember that. And he also quoted Genesis, chapter twenty-three, verse four." He pointed to the book in hand and Killian realized it was a bible. David handed it over to him, keeping it spread open on the page with whatever it was he wanted them to see. Phillip moved closer to him to look over his shoulder at the writing on the page.
"I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a burying place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight," Phillip read aloud, looking up with a furrowed brow.
David shook his head, a rueful smile dusting his lips, "He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."
Smart kid.
"He's at a cemetery."
8888
As it turned out, there were over fifty cemeteries in Florida in the area they were searching. Ruby was trying to narrow it down with the specs they'd given her but the tech analyst only had so much magic she could work. There were no new videos and the film of Henry had stopped streaming the moment he chose David as the next victim. The team weren't genuinely concerned about the Unit Chief's safety – they were, after all, together and even if they weren't it was a safe bet that the man could take care of himself.
When Killian had walked back to the room, Ruby was alone and she told him Emma had left quickly after them. And so, he found himself walking through the house in silent search of her – ignoring the voice that told him she would want to be alone.
When he entered the front room, he quickly recognized the person standing in the center. If her blonde hair hadn't given her away, the sound of her heavy breathing would have. He didn't find it at all strange that he could distinguish the sound of her inhale and exhale, especially after witnessing her on the verge of a panic attack earlier.
Killian looked around the dark musty room, his eyes committing everything to memory as he tried not to disturb Emma. He could only imagine what was occurring inside her head, having just been forced to bear witness to her own personal nightmare on a dozen computer screens while she stood helpless.
He knew the feeling all too well.
Heavy-set furniture cluttered the room, a large bookcase on the far wall full of old novels and encyclopaedias that looked to be in various dialects. There was an old brown lounge chair in the centre of the room that faced the window, the dirtied surface difficult but not impossible to look through.
Dust covered nearly everything except for the worn couch; the books, the intricately designed lamp, the newspapers that sat untouched on the small mahogany coffee table beside the chair. He kept his eyes on her as she looked up at the paneled ceiling, blinking rapidly.
When he took a step forward, the floorboards creaked and she turned, sniffing and then coughing to cover the vulnerable sound. His ice blue eyes burned into her and something strange and hostile crossed her features.
She looked away, out the window to where the corner of the barn where she'd been attacked by the dogs could just be seen. Emma flinched, her hand reaching for the small bandage around her upper arm where she'd been cut by the wooden panelling of the barn. He still remembered the wild look in her eyes as she'd stood with her gun pointed, blood covering her arm and spattered across her shirt. Killian wouldn't deny that he'd seized up for a moment, caught by the idea that she might be seriously hurt. It was only after he'd inspected every inch of her that he assured himself she was fine – physically at least.
Killian walked further into the room and she met his gaze as he approached, any emotion sealed off. Her efforts to conceal her feelings were futile; he could still read her. He considered her carefully for a long moment but didn't dare reach out to touch her – he felt it was as though she were glass and cracks had just begun to appear at her base. Any sudden movements and she might shatter into a million pieces and then where would they be?
Emma eyes darted down to the floor and the silence began to bite uncomfortably at Killian's ears. It had been a long time since the two of them had been alone together, always surrounded by their teammates or the local police or someone. She'd been avoiding him for so long he forgot what it felt like to be in her sole presence. Killian was about to speak when she beat him to it, her eyes snapping intensely onto his in the dimly lit room.
"You blame me."
She said it more like a statement than a question, her sureness at her words echoing in the small room. But he didn't understand what she meant – blame her for what?
"What?" he replied, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Emma locked her eyes on to a spot just over his shoulder, no longer willing to meet his eyes.
"For Henry. You blame me."
He sighed in realization and wondered if Emma had expected him to jump at the chance to admonish her, tell her that it was her fault and that she should never have taken Henry instead of him.
Killian shook his head and took a step towards her, "I don't blame you, love."
She scoffed, the bark of laughter that escaped her mouth harsh and gravelly and not at all genuine.
"Don't lie to me, Jones."
Emma jumped when Killian took another step closer, silently demanding she look at him as he descended on her. His eyes drilled into her and her apathetic façade faltered under the blatant scrutiny. When he spoke, it demanded her full attention and she had no other choice but to listen closely to each honest syllable that was cast from his mouth and into the tense atmosphere of the room.
"I'm not… and you of all people should know that. None of us blame you, Swan – what happened was no one's fault," he said fervently, his urgency evidently surprising Emma.
Killian watched her hesitate a second before she clenched her fists, "How can you say that?" she asked incredulously, her voice rising a decibel. There was a pregnant pause and Emma ran a hand through her hair hurriedly, "If you'd come instead of him…" The sentence drifted off, the end of her comment lingering unfinished in the air. Killian raised an eyebrow, the words slicing at his chest as the implication of her observation registered in his mind. He kept his face impassive though, or so he hoped.
Finally he asked, "Would you have preferred it if I had been captured?"
Emma's eyes snapped onto his.
"No," she replied quickly, earnestly, "I just… things might have gone down differently if you'd come instead of him."
Her eyes dropped from his again and he felt his ice blue stare soften thoughtfully. There were bags under her eyes and he could still see the tell-tale wetness on her eyelashes that indicated tears. However hard she might have tried to hide it, he could see her weakness and it hurt him more than he would have cared to admit. Killian shrugged.
"You might be right but," he paused, his thoughts drifting elsewhere as he turned over in his head the true meaning of the words he would utter, "Emma, you can't live your life thinking about what-ifs… it'll destroy you."
Images of a dark-haired woman flashed mockingly behind his lids, her smile followed succinctly by the sound of her sob. He felt his eyes glaze over as a pensive look took hold of his face. His words were startlingly accurate in depicting the first year after her death – when all he could think was that perhaps if he'd moved faster, done something differently, she might still be alive.
The word 'what' was such a terribly harmless word, but alongside the word 'if,' it could destroy you. Gnawing away at your head and heart in the dead of night like a flesh-eating virus. More images flashed in his mind's eye; waking up to an empty bed, contemplating death as salt water trickled down his cheeks and onto his pillow, turning a gun over in his hand and putting it away when his phone shrilled relentlessly. Killian shivered indiscernibly, trying to shake off the way his body went cold thinking about it.
As Killian's thoughts came back into focus he looked down to Emma. She was biting her lip and it looked as though she were attempting to keep it from trembling.
He watched as moisture pooled in her eyes and she took a shaky breath. Finally, she looked up to meet his gaze.
"Tell me he'll be okay," she whispered hoarsely, her voice broken and ragged with unspoken emotion. Killian's brow dropped marginally towards his eyes, a fleeting expression of mixed shock and apprehension drifting across his defined features. He was taken off guard by her flagrant vulnerability.
He watched as she took a small step closer to him, her eyes searching and desperate. He wanted to give her what she wanted; to tell her that Henry would be fine and they would look back on this one day and… maybe not laugh, but they would have the chance to reminisce. But such is life.
Killian shook his head softly, "I can't."
"Why not?" Emma responded instantaneously, her lip quivering dangerously.
His gaze delved into hers, burning holes in her skull as he sought something he couldn't quite place.
"Because I don't know. And I'm not going to lie to you," he paused and looked down briefly, shame knotting in his stomach, "Sorry."
He waited for her to get angry at him, certain that he would receive an onslaught of livid curses and perhaps a slap to the face. But she didn't. Instead, he heard her inhale sharply and looked up at the foreign sound.
Her eyes were tinged red and sparkling with moisture, her lip quivering.
"I… It's my fault... I – I –" she stuttered, losing the end of the sentence in a sharp gasp.
Killian grasped her arms firmly, lowering his head so their eyes were level. Her own gaze darted around on the floor, her mouth opening and closing as incoherent sentences and worries slipped out of her mouth.
"Emma," he said calmly and, when she didn't respond, he said it again slightly louder, "Emma."
Her blue-green eyes locked onto his and he held her gaze intensely for a second to ensure he had her full attention. When he was certain he did, he spoke.
"Emma, if there is one thing I know about you it's that you're determined and loyal to a fault. You will get him back. I have faith in that much."
Killian couldn't comment on what Henry's state would be when they found him because he didn't know what the kid had endured, nor did he know the young agent's level of tolerance. But his gut told him that they would get him back – more specifically, that she would not rest until they got him back safe and sound. And either way, Henry was smart enough to know how to survive the situation (unless it risked the lives of their team, a fact that had been made glaringly obvious earlier).
She nodded, her lower lip retracting into her mouth as she chewed it roughly. He watched as her eyes welled with tears and he could imagine her internal irritation at showing what she would have perceived as weakness. A small tear blazed its way down her cheek and he reacted without thought. Killian pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her.
He felt her bury her face in his chest as he embraced her and nestled his head on top of hers comfortingly, drinking in the vanilla smell of her hair. Emma cried silently, her broken inhales and the wetness on his shirt the only signs that she was breaking down. Killian vaguely found himself appreciating how his nerves tingled with warmth at the feel of her body pressed against his – not because they were acting or sparring, but because he was consoling her.
The moment stretched for a long minute but eventually her breathing slowed and he pulled his arms back so his hands rested on her shoulders. As Emma drew away, she wiped hastily at her eyes – determined to eradicate any evidence that she'd shown vulnerability.
"I just… I felt like every time he looked at the camera, he was looking at me and… I…" she stammered huskily, looking down.
Killian stiffened, "What did you say?"
Emma frowned and he could nearly see the walls being rebuilt, brick by brick, "I… are you okay?" she asked. He shook his head and let go of her, putting two fingers on each temple.
"Yes – what did you just say?" he repeated, closing his eyes.
There was a brief pause before she coughed and said in a detached voice, "I said I felt like every time he looked at the camera, he was looking at me –"
"Come with me."
Killian walked quickly from the room, grabbing Emma's wrist and pulling her along behind him. And surprisingly, she followed him without question or protest. He had to restrain himself from sprinting as he wove his way through the house to the room with the dozen computers where Ruby was sitting. She spun in her chair when they entered, red-stained lips opening to ask a question but he cut her off.
"Can you bring up the video of Henry again?" he asked.
Ruby's eyes flitted nervously between him and the blonde beside him. Killian turned to Emma who was giving him a strange look. He put a hand on her arm and met her eyes.
"Trust me," he pleaded, facing Ruby again and nodding for her to do it. The brunette spun around and tapped at the keyboard for a second, prompting the black screens to show the image of Henry in the dark unidentified room.
"Can you fast-forward to the part where Anthony told him we were watching?"
She dragged the timer of the feed at the bottom of the screen across until the desired section began to play.
"The other heathens are watching," Gabriel's voice spat through the speakers. On the screen, Killian watched as Henry's eyes looked up into the camera before dropping back to the floor as Gabriel walked around from the back of the chair to stand in front of the young agent.
"Choose a person to die and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved."
The long pause was expected this time and Killian took the time to study Henry's expression. His eyes darted about on the floorboards, as though he were in a deep train of thought. When they stopped moving, he set his jaw and looked up at Gabriel. There was a clear undercurrent of fear to his movements but he didn't let it show too obviously. Brave kid.
"I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave the remains behind like a poacher," Henry said, glancing at the camera twice.
"Stop the video," Killian ordered. Ruby complied and he bit his lip in thought. He heard as Phillip and David entered the room behind him but he continued to mull over the words.
Slaughter.
Poacher.
Why would he phrase it that way? He could have simply said 'no,' but something about his deliverance was off. It was true that the kid had an extensive vernacular but there was something deliberate about the way he spoke and glanced at the camera, subtly pleading for them to accept his clue.
And something shifted into place.
"Ruby, look up any recent cases of poaching," Killian commanded.
Behind him, David spoke, "Jones, you alright?"
The agent turned to his superior, "Henry said that he wouldn't choose who gets slaughtered and have Anthony leave the remains behind like a poacher. I think he was trying to give us a message."
There was a sharp ding behind them and, as if on cue, Ruby spoke up, "A farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on its property."
"Where?" Killian asked.
A map appeared on the screens and the tech analyst zoomed in on the area highlighted. It was a fairly isolated property with one road leading in and out of it. The grazing land spanned for a long distance and backed onto another smaller property. Killian felt Emma lean forward and peer down at the screen.
"What's that patch of green there?" she asked, pointing to a small highlighted section a short distance away from the property.
"Marshal Parish," Ruby answered.
Emma's eyes widened and she touched her chin, "Anthony wrote in his diary about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall." The brunette on the chair typed quickly and only a second later, a small section of text was emphasized on the screen. She turned in her chair to look up at the four adults.
"Guys… there's a cemetery on the grounds."
8888
There was a flurry of preparation before the team got in their black sedans and began speeding down the dirt road towards Marshal Parish. The very second that the two partners had informed David and Phillip of their findings, the group had grabbed frantically at weapons as they all but sprinted towards the cars. The Unit Chief had swiftly educated Officer Ford and the latter was summoning up all his man-power to the property. Thanks to Ruby, the uncomplicated directions to the abandoned plot of land were already installed in their phones, having been sent the second they connected the blatantly obvious dots.
They drove silently into the night, the black of their sedans all but invisible as they whizzed past the fields of green towards their destination. Killian kept his eyes on the road, hands clenched tightly around the wheel as he kept a solid 110 kilometres per hour. He glanced once at Emma, whose eyes were fixed firmly ahead of her, her hands clenched tight to the point of resembling bone.
There was little to no light on the uninhabited road, the moon their only other source of illumination. He had the headlights on full-beam, casting an intense white glow ahead of them so they could see the turns in the road.
He had refused to let her drive as they ran towards the sedan; he knew she would be too distracted to focus on keeping them upright on the road and the agent didn't want to end up bottom-up in a field before they could even reach Henry.
David and Phillip were in the car behind them, following their every turn.
Killian felt his muscles tense as they slowed to turn onto a road where a neglected sign announced that they had arrived at 'Marshal Parish.' He lifted his foot off the pedal marginally so their approach was at least somewhat subtle and turned off the high-beam. As he glimpsed his partner, he noted that she already had her hand on the door handle, her body tense like a spring ready to bound forth towards her goal the moment she was given the go-ahead. A small rundown shack came into view at the end of the road and he swiftly turned off his headlights.
The shack grew larger in the distance until eventually Killian pulled the car to a stop about fifty meters away. The breaks squeaked unobtrusively as the cars skidded lightly across the rocky surface and he could hear as David's sedan did the same.
The moment the car stopped traveling forward, Emma unlatched the door and jumped out, gun already out as she began to pad stealthily towards the house. It was as though she couldn't stop her trajectory; she had to be constantly in motion if she was to save the youngest member of their team.
Killian turned the sedan off and cursed under his breath at her refusal to wait for him, pulling out his own weapon and exiting the car just as nimbly. He had to jog to catch up to her, taking care to step on patches of ground that were untouched by crunched dead leaves and restrained the urge to pull her back. He heard David and Phillip as they got out of their car and followed the two agents towards the grey porch. There was a muted golden light peeking out through the boarded up windows, landing softly on the veranda that surrounded the perimeter of the shack.
His blood rushed loudly through his ears, the sound of anticipation deafening him to anything except his own pulse and quiet footfalls across the unkempt yard. They made their way up the portico stairs, careful to step lightly for fear of making noise at such a pivotal moment in this mission.
They were so close. He could feel Henry close by and judging by the way Emma's pace quickened, she could feel it to.
Emma sidled up to the closed door, Killian moving to stand on the other side. They leaned against the dirty wood and their eyes locked, blue-green to ice blue, a forced collision of mutual concern and diluted fear.
With a small nod, Killian kicked open the door and moved in, his eyes darting around the small room rapidly in search of some kind of figure. There was a camera perched on a tripod on the opposite side of the room, located in front of a desk that held four computer screens with four separate video feeds. There was a couple drinking red wine in one, a man whose expression indicated that what he was looking at was something akin to watching paint dry, a young woman who appeared to be in the middle of a video chat and the last video feed was empty. There was a turned over chair to his left and as he walked further into the empty room and turned to face Emma; he recognized the space as the backdrop of the video they had watched of Henry.
He could see in his mind's eye the exact spot where the young man had fallen and been succinctly revived. As his eyes drifted from the chair to Emma, he could see as she looked around the room desperately, searching for something that would lead them to Henry.
David and Phillip entered the room behind her, their guns already lowering since no noise had erupted.
One should never jinx those sort of things though.
There was a sudden and colossal bang that pierced the air and everyone in the room froze. A gunshot.
Emma's wide eyes met Killian's and he was sure they reflected his expression exactly. The blonde spun around and sprinted from the room, and the other three agents followed her. As they entered the night again, the blackness still crowding every corner of the bushland surrounding them, there was the sound of muffled voices and shuffling feet to their right.
Emma was already running in that direction, her weapon raised and footsteps heavy. Killian followed rapidly; the fastest runner in their team. He was hot on Emma's heels as she dodged the roots of the trees and ducked under branches, using the sound of the voices as her leading tether. And Killian simply followed her, his eyes sporadically searching the area around them.
As they ran through the trees, cement headstones began to rise up out of the ground, becoming denser as they headed further into what was surely the cemetery of the plantation, the only sound that of their feet crunching over dead leaves and breaths coming in rapid succession. And then:
BANG!
Another gunshot broke the thick air and Emma's voice was suddenly ripping through the ensuing silence, "Henry! Henry!" she boomed into the night.
He'd never heard her tone so raw and scratched and he felt his gut twist painfully at the hysterical sound.
It seemed they had tossed any reserves out the window, so Killian unwittingly joined in her chorus of cries.
"Henry!" he bellowed loudly, overlapping her voice as she slowed down slightly.
There was a roar of fury this time, and it didn't belong to Henry. Both agents were immediately running towards the source of the voice, recognition bubbling up in a wave of impending emotion. Whether it would be relief or grief depended entirely on what sight awaited them as they headed towards the growing sounds of a struggle.
Emma and Killian burst into a small clearing to see Henry and Anthony in the center, a gun held in the air as both struggled for supremacy. The latter was losing out though, his strength already waned from the trauma of his capture. Emma rushed forward as Killian's eyes swept over the scene before him.
There was what appeared to be a hole in the ground, rectangular shaped and very shallow. There was a shovel lying haphazardly beside it, obviously having been carelessly tossed aside. Killian watched almost in slow motion as his partner rushed at the two struggling men, rugby-tackling the un-sub to the ground with an almost primal growl. Henry fell back into the dirt as Anthony was thrust away from him.
Killian moved immediately towards the young agent as Emma pushed the other man into the dirt, kneeling beside Henry and tucking away his gun. Henry's eyes met Killian's with unadulterated relief and he found it within himself to offer the agent a half-hearted smile. Killian would never comprehend how the kid was the way he was: and he would never fail to commend him for it either. However, the happy reunion was cut short when Henry's eyes drifted over the older agent's shoulder to something he found visibly disturbing.
"Emma, stop!"
Killian stood up and spun around, following Henry's gaze to where Emma was pounding her fists viciously into an already subdued Anthony. He made his way towards her immediately, swallowing the desire to leave her loose and grabbing her shoulders.
"Emma, stop," he said sternly, pulling her up and nearly falling over when she jerked herself out of his grip and continued to hit the man beneath her.
Her voice, raw and hissing, could just barely be heard between each grunt of effort it took to slam her fist down, "He was innocent, you bastard! You fucking bastard!"
Killian could feel her losing out fast and, gripping her shoulders tighter, pulled her roughly up and away. She tried to get past him but his grip was steady and unyielding.
"Let me go," she growled ravenously, her eyes alight with unmatched and unadulterated wrath. If she was a colour, she'd be a deep blood red. If she was an element, she'd be fire. If she was a weather event, she'd be a hurricane. Emma lunged again, hitting Killian's arm as he jutted it out to stop her and pull her back around.
"Emma."
And it was as if his voice snapped her out of it, the embers in her eyes dying out little by little until she looked around; at him, at the bruised and bloodied un-sub, at the concerned face of Henry. As her eyes finally landed on the young agent, her entire demeanour changed and Killian knew he could let her go safely, dropping his hands and watching as she strode across the leaf-strewn ground towards him.
As Emma reached the bruised and bloodied young man, she knelt beside him and instantly embraced him. Her delicate arms wrapped around him as she pressed her face into his shoulder and Henry returned the gesture automatically. He could see her shoulders shaking and was all but entirely sure she was crying, but he didn't say anything, he let her have the moment. Satisfied that her murderous tendencies were at least partially eradicated, Killian turned his attention to the barely moving figure opposite the happy reunion, hot fury simmering up inside as he looked upon the face of the man who he had watched beat Henry. He squatted beside Anthony, elbows on his knees as he looked over him.
He had more control than Emma – this he knew for a fact since he didn't immediately add to the splotches of red and purple littering the un-sub's exposed skin.
Killian's gaze held no pity, he felt nothing but loathing for the man whose breath came out in jarring catches. It was Henry who spoke up to demand they call for medical help, just as David and Phillip reached them. The two men sighed in relief and the former made his way towards Killian.
"He needs medical attention," Henry croaked again, coughing and trying weakly to stand up.
Emma helped him and followed the younger agent's gaze to Anthony's shaking body with a mask of indifference. Behind it though, Killian could see the clear undercurrent of seething hate that burned clear and bright. And even deeper than that, like the frayed edges of a painting, he could see unwilling understanding. Perhaps that was why she had lashed out at him so savagely – not only for Henry, but because he evoked an unwilling feeling of empathy at shared past. Nevertheless, to the untrained eye, it was impossible to tell that she had just been on the brink of killing the un-sub.
Phillip pulled out his phone and began to call for assistance and David's eyes raked over the beaten un-sub, the powder blue orbs briefly flickering to Emma whose arms were still wrapped tightly around Henry.
"What happened?" he asked sternly, looking directly at Killian.
He shrugged, his eyes glinting with unapologetic mirth, "I guess Henry got in a few good hits before we took him down."
Not that David would have persecuted her, but he certainly would have admonished her in person. And at least, in this light, it was unclear who delivered the beating. It was better that their superior think Killian did it – Emma didn't need to be called into question. She already had enough on her plate; even if he didn't know what it was that was on her plate exactly.
Killian nodded once at David and turned to approach Henry.
The young man's hands were covered in dirt and as Killian looked between him and the shallow pit, he realized what Anthony or Gabriel or whoever the fuck the un-sub was had tried to make him do. Digging your own grave was another level of cruel and he only imagined the type of scarring that was now burned into Henry's naïve mind.
And yet, the young man seemed to be holding up surprisingly well. Killian knew if he had the opportunity to hurt the un-sub, he would take it. But he wasn't compassionate like Henry, he considered himself a zealous and selfish man. Especially when it came to those who injured the ones he loved. He hadn't always been like that – but there are certain things that a man never truly recovers from. So many layers, a mocking voice whispered in his head, if only someone cared enough to dissect them one-by-one.
Killian swallowed the self-loathing and put a hand on Henry's shoulder, meeting his gaze in the dim moonlit night.
"You okay, kid?" he asked, searching the soft hazel eyes for the truth.
Emma watched the exchange, her stare landing on Henry as well as he answered with a shrug.
"I will be."
And, though pained, it was the truth.
8888
Emma didn't let Henry out of her sight for the following 48 hours – even as the young man was treated for his injuries and given pain killers, even as he was told to give a statement and identify Mr Reed as the un-sub, even as they were all ushered onto the plane the next evening. Killian observed his partner closely and was relieved to see her returning to normal, even if he was sure she would never truly forget what had happened. Neither would Henry; but then, no one expected him to.
Ruby had all but jumped him when the brunette had finally seen him, her slender arms crushing his lean frame against hers as she grinned tearily from ear to ear and threatened him should he ever leave them. They had all received their chance to welcome back the young agent and Killian would never comprehend how Henry managed a watery smile at their meek attempts to joke. The poor kid would, as was his style, keep to himself about it – only speaking about it in the mandatory sessions with Katherine that David would certainly set up.
Killian only hoped that he wouldn't be haunted by it in his sleep.
He thought about this specifically as he observed the young agent at the end of the plane, eyes closed tight as he leaned unconsciously against the side of the plane. He'd fallen asleep an hour ago and no one dared raise their voice for fear of waking him.
Killian attempted to read but found himself far too enamoured by his own meticulous thoughts.
He recalled his own sleepless nights, when he'd woken in a cocoon of damp sheets, his breathing deep and heavy. Fists clenched into the quilts, he'd sat up in bed every night, jumping awake as the sound of her life being drained from her body echoed cruelly in his mind. Killian forced his mind to focus on the words of the book he was vainly attempting to read, he hated remembering those days.
"What are you reading?"
Emma's voice drew his gaze upwards and the crease in his brow immediately smoothed. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glancing briefly at the sleeping Henry before landing back on her.
"The Book Thief," Killian replied "And I didn't think you'd be letting him out of your sight."
She shrugged, letting herself fall into the seat opposite him, "I can still see him," she retorted dryly.
"Touché," he responded with a smirk, earmarking his page and closing the thick book.
She cocked her head to the side, giving him a strange look.
"David thinks you beat up Anthony," she said.
He shrugged, "I never alluded to anything – I told him Henry got in some –"
"I know you're covering for me," she cut him off, chewing her bottom lip for a long minute. There was silence between them as he attempted to process where she was headed with this topic of conversation. He wondered distantly if she was going to return to cutting him off.
"Thank you," she finally said. He nodded in reply and watched her carefully, dissecting what little he could see, what slivers of her persona that weren't heavily guarded by a wall of steel. It was as though she was waiting for him to ask her something, figuratively holding her breath in anticipation for the query she deemed he was certain to make. But he had nothing to ask and eventually she spoke up.
"Aren't you going to ask what came over me?"
Killian shook his head, "No. I'm not," he replied honestly.
Emma's brows drew together in a frown, "Why? I mean, I nearly beat that guy to death… I'm not usually the type to let my emotions control my actions."
A small, humourless smile tugged barely at the side of his lips, "This wasn't a usual case. And," he paused briefly, "I understand why you did it."
"What?"
"I would explain but I'd rather not get in a fight right now," he elucidated, giving her a weary look that conveyed everything he wanted to say without speaking a word. She nodded once, a curt tilt of her head in understanding and acceptance. It was strange – how they could communicate so effortlessly through simple gestures and imperceptible subtext.
Emma let her head fall in her hand as she looked out the window. There were dark bags under her eyes and lines of fatigue in her pale face. She looked utterly exhausted.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" he asked softly, cocking his head to the side.
She shook her head lightly, "Can't sleep."
"And why's that?" he asked, expecting some witty retort that recommended he mind his own business. Instead, her eyes flickered to his and returned to the dark night outside the window.
"Because every time I close my eyes I think of Henry," she replied breathily.
Killian set the book down beside him and leant forward on the table separating them.
"He'll be alright, Emma. He's a strong kid," he said, catching her eyes earnestly. Emma sighed and smiled a tense unconvincing smile, her lips tight and strained across her face.
"I know, I know… I just… I hate to think what he went through – when we weren't watching."
He licked his lips, turning her words over and finding them oddly representative of his own sentiments.
"I understand," he replied, "but… love, you can't do anything more now. All we can do is support him and make sure he gets the help he needs." As his eyes scanned her face, he registered something that took him back to the front room of the Reed Ranch, to the moment she'd turned to face him and emotion ravaged her usually collected features. "You still feel guilty."
She didn't respond, but he saw by the way her eyes drifted down in shame that it was true.
Killian leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, "Emma, there's nothing you can do to change what happened – and there was nothing you could have done to stop it from happening in the first place."
She met his stare full on, the blue-green irises sparking with intense discomfiture.
"I shouldn't have taken him instead of you. I shouldn't have…"
Her words drifted off and she turned away again. Killian resisted the urge to prompt her to continue, knowing by the way her jaw shifted that she was closing off the momentary lapse in control. She'd been on the verge of revealing something to him, teetering dangerously on the edge without even knowing it. But she'd pulled herself back, leaving him to simply take what he could get.
Killian shrugged, "We've been through this, Emma."
"I know," she murmured quietly.
"And does it help at all to know that none of us blame you?"
Emma was silent for a long moment and he considered that she might not have heard his question. But then, she turned to him with a miniscule smile, only really a subtle tilt of her lips.
"Yeah."
8888
The familiar sound of keyboards being abused was like music to Killian's ears as he walked into the BAU precinct, laptop bag swung lazily over one shoulder. He made his way immediately to his work station, pulling out his computer and sitting in the office chair with a loud sigh. He liked his desk.
He hated paperwork.
The thought made him frown as he opened the computer in front of him and prepared to write out a report on their latest case. He internally winced just thinking about the fact that he would have to report on Henry, who was absent for the rest of the week due to his traumatic experience. Whether the agent would actually follow the orders of his superiors was another question – Killian had the distinct impression that Henry was a fidgeter and therapy for him would consist of burying himself in work.
Nevertheless, he was nowhere to be seen thus far – but it was only the morning.
He began typing up the document, detailing everything he could remember of their case until his attention drifted elsewhere, caught on something in his peripheral vision. He looked over his shoulder to where Emma had just entered, her gym bag swung over her shoulder. Her hair was tied back in a loose pony tail, some damp strands of hair stuck to her face from the shower she'd surely taken after working out. She walked towards their desks, nodding a greeting at Killian as she dropped her bag at her desk.
"Morning Swan," he said swivelling his chair around to face her.
She tightened her pony tail and fell back into her own black desk chair, "Morning."
"Have fun in the gym?" he asked, giving her an appreciative once-over. Emma rolled her eyes and gave him an unamused look.
"Yes, I had a fabulous time beating up Fred."
Killian raised a speculative eyebrow, "Who's Fred?"
She smirked, "Jealous?"
Her questions prompted him to chuckle and shake his head as he shrugged, "Not in the slightest – just wondering who the poor soul is that suffered your wrath this morning." Emma narrowed her eyes ever-so-slightly, sneering at him before turning around in her chair to face her own computer. She opened it up as she answered.
"Fred's the training dummy," she said indifferently.
Killian frowned, "You named the dummy?"
He saw her shoulders bob up and down in a shrug, "No one else had."
"Swan, that's because it's an inanimate object."
"And now it's an inanimate object with a name."
"Why does it need a name?"
"Because I thought I should get to know my new fighting partner," she retorted with the slightest hint of snark, throwing a look over her shoulder at him. Both of his eyebrows ascended to his hairline as he stared at her back. She was referring to the fact that he had texted her earlier that morning informing her he would not be attending their combat session.
He figured that, since she was apparently back to normal, their routine would proceed once again as normal. And, as per usual, they would skirt the awkward confrontation about what exactly had been going on for the past two weeks. Killian wouldn't deny he was madly curious to know what had prompted her to shut him out, but he knew Emma and he knew that things like this weren't brought to light right away, not just when things were starting to repair themselves. Later, he told himself, you'll ask what happened and maybe she'll tell you. For now, though, they would tread lightly.
"Oh, love, my apologies for my absence – I was otherwise detained."
She scoffed, "Yeah, and what might have had you otherwise detained?" she said derisively, mimicking his accent poorly.
"Sleep," he replied simply.
Emma spun around in her chair, "Are you saying you ditched me this morning to sleep?"
He could have easily pointed out her actions earlier that week but he chose not to – no need to start a fight when he'd only just penned his name in her good books. Killian gave her a guilty smile and raised his hands.
"What can I say? I was buggered."
She shook her head and was about to turn around when Sidney, Regina's receptionist, made his way to the two agents. He fixed his eyes on Emma as he approached and leaned on the cubicle wall as he spoke.
"Regina wants to see the both of you," he said, looking at Killian as well.
Emma and Killian shared a look, silently asking the other if they knew what the Section Chief could possibly want from them. Having determined that neither knew any more than the other, they both looked to Sidney again.
"Did she say why?" Killian asked with a frown. It was unusual for the Section Chief to call on either of them for anything – not only did she usually use David as the middle man to deliver orders but the two women did not get along. That much was blatantly obvious to anyone with a semblance of observation skills.
Sidney shrugged, "No. She just wants to see you both."
He waited for the two agents to stand up and when they did, he led them up the small flight of stairs to the raised level that outlined the perimeter of the office, to Regina's office. He knocked three times before opening the large mahogany door and the woman's stern voice instructed they could enter. Sidney nodded once at Emma and Killian as they walked into the office and stood side-by-side in front of the dark wooden desk.
Regina's indifferent façade was resolute even as her eyes glanced up at the two agents. She had a pen in her hand and was signing along the dotted line of some form. Killian looked at Emma from his peripheral vision and noted the way she eyed the brunette, with impatience and indignation. He looked back to Regina just as she clicked the pen closed and placed it in the small cup of utensils on her desk.
Finally, she looked up and leaned back in her chair, dark hair sweeping back from her face to reveal a sharp and beautiful face, stern calculating eyes and dark red lips.
"I presume you're wondering why I summoned you," she said eloquently, looking between them both.
"Not in the slightest – this does, after all, happen all the time," Emma retorted sarcastically, the hostility between the two women tinting the air. Killian bit his lip and shot his partner a reprimanding look that she ignored, her face portraying nothing but boredom.
But Regina didn't flinch, she smiled harshly, "I wouldn't be so imprudent if I were you, Ms Swan. After all, I haven't called you in here to give you a gold star."
"I'm shattered," Emma countered flippantly.
Killian just shook his head imperceptibly and kept his eyes on the name plaque on the desk until he realized what the woman had said.
"Wait – are we in trouble?" he asked.
Regina brought her hands together in front of her, "Not in trouble per say – I'm just giving you a warning."
"Excuse me?" Emma said incredulously, raising her eyebrows.
"Oh don't act so surprised – you," Regina said, nodding at Killian, "used excessive force on a suspect. The only reason you're not impounded is because I can write it off as self-defense." Emma looked between Killian and the Section Chief and opened her mouth to speak and he knew she was about to claim responsibility for her actions. He cut her off before she had the chance, giving her a meaningful glance as he spoke.
"So David told you, did he?" he asked without antagonism.
He could feel Emma's glare but was happy to hear her silence, an indication of her reluctant acceptance.
Regina watched him carefully, "Only because the officers in Florida informed me about Mr Reeds condition when he was brought into custody. If it weren't for that, I'd say Mr Nolan would have covered your ass in a heartbeat. And as for you," she turned her stare on Emma, and there was a tangible undercurrent of hostility there, so potent Killian felt something akin to anger simmer unexpectedly in his chest. Emma held her superior's unrelenting gaze with ease, quite used to locking horns with the woman.
"I'd like to know what happened at the Reed Ranch because I can't think of a situation where Henry could possibly have been abducted without some foolishness on your part," she said, the acid in her tone unhidden.
Regina had always been weirdly protective of Henry; perhaps it was because she had hand picked him from the training squads, overlooking his obvious lack of physical skills with the claim his intelligence and mental capacity compensated for it in abundance.
She was always warmer towards him, her smiles genuine when she sent them his way.
Regina didn't have children – a husband, yes, but children, no. Killian had never asked why; but he had a strange feeling that it wasn't by choice. The way she handled young ones when she actually came into contact with them was always tender and unexpectedly knowing.
He saw Emma's fists clench as she replied in a stony voice, "I guess you'll have to read it on my report."
"I look forward to it and, in the future, consider your actions more carefully," Regina near-hissed. Killian watched as Emma nodded stoically, her knuckles bone-white and jaw set.
"Is that all?" she asked in a voice that sounded unlike her own.
Regina nodded and instantaneously Emma pivoted on her heel and strode from the room. Killian watched her leave the room and turned back to his superior, who had started signing papers once again. She spared him an uninterested glance, "I'll be expecting your report too, but you are also excused."
She continued her ministrations, oblivious to his presence for a long moment.
Anger bubbled up in his chest at the notion that the section chief dared to place blame on Emma – that she would encourage the already dangerous emotions festering inside his partner's head. He had personal experience and he knew, firsthand, just how much the blonde would already be beating herself up about it. She may have put on a light-hearted facade but he could see that beneath the banter was a woman still dealing with what she'd seen the week before.
He felt the need to admonish the woman before him, to point his finger and growl unscrupulous things. He felt defensive.
But as she continued her work, ignoring his presence entirely, his gaze landed momentarily on the plaque on her desk. Section Chief, Regina Mills.
She was his superior, his boss.
Fucking hierarchy. Fucking need for employment. Fuck.
So, with more finesse than he thought he had, Killian Jones took one small step forward and levelled the woman with a reproachful look.
"She already feels bad enough about what happened," he said, catching her eyes and holding them evenly, "without you making her feel worse about it." Regina continued to hold his gaze, her hand held aloft above the paper as she paused. It was Killian who turned around, breaking their eye contact first and striding out of the room – closing the door firmly as he left (refraining the urge to slam it shut).
He walked calmly back to his desk, catching Emma's eyes on him as he moved through the office. A look he couldn't quite place stirred in the blue-green depths as they dissected him before shifting back down to her own computer.
Okay *heavy sigh* so I didn't kill anyone. There was some maiming, but no death.
And get your final votes in for the dress Emma will wear next chapter! (options under the tag 'Emma Swan Dress Vote' on tumblr)
Reviews are... I can't think of anything creative but I survive on feedback so please?