It's here! It's here! The Gala is finally here! This chapter is a bit of a biggie but think of it as an apology in advance since I will not be able to update for about four weeks because I'm going on a holiday on Friday where I won't have much access to internet or my laptop! The dress was chosen - as you will here described in a moment but it's also in the tumblr post. I hope you guys like this chapter and I'll see you in four-or-so weeks!
Bright morning sunlight peeked in through the blinds shuttering the window beside his bed and Killian groaned, restraining the urge to roll back over and curl into the quilts. He sat still for a moment longer, the warmth of the golden light somewhat soothing on his cheeks, but eventually he opened his eyes, wiping the sleep from them with a sloppy fist. As he pushed himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed, his eyes landed on the garment bag hanging on the back of his door and sighed.
Killian rubbed his eyes gingerly as he remembered his plans for the evening.
The Gala.
Regina's parade of foreign dignitaries, political pawns, and dedicated worker ants – all wrapped in silk and cotton, shiny and fresh like glass menageries on display in a cabinet that she'd decided to take out for a fiddle. It wasn't that he disliked the woman – though, after her comments to Emma the other day, he certainly wasn't happy with her – but she had a terrible puppeteer complex and that was one thing the Killian couldn't stand; those who manoeuvred people like pieces on a chess board. He felt his teeth grind together as a particular face came into view at the back of his mind but he shut it out, trying to focus on other things as his eyes flitted to the ground.
At the very least, his team was attending – and that, in and of itself, was motivation enough. If not for that, Killian probably would have blown the entire thing off, Regina be damned. But, as he'd so eloquently put to Phillip; he wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity to see the women they worked with in dresses - one blonde in particular coming to mind.
Smiling absent-mindedly to himself, Killian pushed himself out of the bed and set to preparing for the day ahead.
8888
"So, Prince's alibi checked out and there was nothing to pique our interest in the internet searches," Ruby said over the video chat, her smile growing so her lips pulled back into a wolfish grin, excitement seeping into her tone, "But…" she looked to Victor who was sitting beside her, redirecting Killian's attention on the monitor.
His eyes swapped to the blonde man who smiled even brighter as Ruby turned to him, "We got a hit with the GPS back-tracking."
Killian leaned forward in the black leather chair so he was closer to the laptop on the table, "What did you guys find?" he asked eagerly.
Ruby's fingers skittered across the keys in front of her and a small ding sounded, notifying him of an email. He opened up the attachment as her voice filtered through the computer, scanning the information as he listened to her commentary.
"Tate and Prince both went to the same internet café – though at different times. But it was at least a half hour drive from the latter's apartment and, judging by your description, I doubt he's the type to drive that far for internet when he clearly has Wi-Fi," she said.
Victor's voice came out in a matter-of-fact tone, "He could really like their cappuccinos?" he suggested meekly. Killian raised an eyebrow, looking directly into the camera because, while he couldn't see them with the documentation up, they could most definitely see him. Ruby's unmistakable chuckle could be heard and then a masculine huff. The agent shook his head and minimized the tab, the visual of the two tech analysts reappearing behind it.
"I sent you the details, they should be on your phone," Ruby said, leaning back in her own chair.
Sure enough, when Killian checked the device in his pocket, there was a small icon bobbing up and down. He threw the camera a small smile of thanks, lifting his fingers up in a salute as he said, "Thanks Red, call me if you have anything else." He shut the laptop with that and looked up, searching the room for his partner and frowning when he came up empty. Killian turned to Henry who was sitting diagonally from him on the round table, eyes closed and hands twitching in the air like he was tracing a secret pattern.
It was what he did when he was internalizing all of his theories, compartmentalizing them so he could clarify the case.
"Hey kid," Killian said, and Henry's eyes snapped open and locked on the older agents', "Where's Swan?"
The young agent shrugged, "I heard she called in sick today."
"Oh," he replied, pursing his lips in thought.
Emma never called in sick.
And even when she was sick, she never let it keep her away from work. She was bloody stubborn like that.
He felt something foreboding settle deep in the pits of his stomach as he thought about it and nearly forgot the lead still buzzing in his message box. Shaking his head and making a note to text her, he stood up from the table and pointed at Henry.
"Want to come and check out a lead?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder.
The young man shrugged indifferently but stood up nonetheless, following Killian out as he plucked a set of keys off the table and exited.
8888
Hey Swan, where are you?
Sick.
Since when does that keep you away?
Since that health and safety seminar Regina made us go to last month - is there a reason you're texting me?
Perhaps I'm feeling your absence?
…
Everything alright?
Absolutely peachy.
Are you still coming to the Gala tonight?
I don't know. I'll see how I feel.
8888
Killian sighed as he placed the phone in his back pocket and looked up to the sign of the café in front of them. Beside him, Henry's hands were in his pockets and the young man leaned back on the car, watching the shop front with mild interest. He stood up when the older agent started towards the door and quickly sidled up to him.
"Who were you texting?"
"Emma," Killian replied instantly.
"Oh," Henry said, looking down, "Is everything okay?"
He nodded and pushed open the glass door, a small bell ringing to signal their entrance. A woman at the counter looked up and smiled welcomingly as he and Henry approached. The latter was pulling out a photograph as Killian introduced them. He flashed his badge as he spoke, "I'm Agent Jones, this is Agent Simmons – would you be willing to answer a few questions for us?"
Tight, red curls framed the woman's face and bounced as she nodded eagerly, eyes already roaming down the length of Killian's body. She leaned forward on the café counter, giving both of the agents a not-so-subtle view of her cleavage, an eager grin spreading across her mouth as Killian turned to Henry, not even remotely amused.
And no, it didn't have anything to do with the fact that Emma was shutting him out.
Again.
Or that she was acting strange.
Again.
That wasn't it. Not at all.
Henry chewed his lip and put the photograph of Officer Tate on the counter's surface in front of the woman, "Have you ever seen this man?"
The woman picked up the image and cocked her head to the side, pursing her lips and nodding, "Yeah, I remember him. He only came in once though, about a week and a half ago."
Henry's eyebrows twitched together, "Studies have shown people can only hold up to seven pieces of information in their short-term memory. What made him so prolific that you can still remember him?" The woman looked momentarily floored at the kid's recited information and impatience began to bubble in Killian's veins. He raised his eyebrows at the woman to catch her attention and she shook off the surprise and shrugged, looking over their shoulders to a table in the corner.
"He nearly left without paying and when I confronted him, he threw a fifty dollar bill at me and ran. It was like he'd seen a ghost or something," she explained.
"What about this man?" Henry asked, pulling out a photo of James Prince and laying it flat on the counter.
The second she saw his face, the woman's expression lit up and she grinned, "Oh yeah, that's Jimmy – he's been coming here every week for the past three years," a red nail traced the curve of his jaw affectionately, "he always sits in the booth near the back when he meets up with his friend. Always tips me too."
"Who's his friend?" Killian inquired after a shared look of realization with Henry.
"I dunno – a blind guy, or at least I think so because of those black glasses he always wears. He's a bit rude, actually – bald, always wears a suit," she explained with a distasteful scowl.
"Were they here on the day that this man came in?" He pointed to the picture of Tate again and she nodded, "Did they notice him?"
"I don't think so – or if they did, I didn't see it," she shrugged.
"Does this place have security cameras?" Henry asked, already looking around the ceiling.
The woman nodded and Killian wasted no time in wishing her his best luck before walking out, not too keen on hearing her attempts to pick him up. Because he was most definitely not in the mood – and it had absolutely nothing to do with Emma. Nothing at all.
He walked briskly back to the car and Henry had to run to catch up.
When he did, he fixed Killian with a wary expression, "Are you alright? That was a bit brash."
"What?" he shrugged in response, "We got the information – if we can get a photo from the video footage we'll be one step closer to closing the case."
"And how do you figure that?" Henry asked, jumping into the passenger side and effectively dropping the subject about his strange behaviour – a notion which Killian was incredibly grateful for. He put the keys into the ignition and pulled out onto the road as he answered.
"Well, if what the waitress said was true – Tate went in there one day, saw or heard something that spooked him, and a couple of days later he wound up dead. Also, Prince frequently catches up with someone – judging by the description – I'm going to go out on a limb and say was his boss, aka King. Now, based on that, I'd say he overheard something he wasn't supposed to when he was eavesdropping."
8888
"Okay, so we found the footage from the day Tate was at the cafe," Ruby said from the computer screen.
"We've sent it to you but it's pretty bleak news," Victor continued as Killian leaned forward to manoeuvre the mouse. He pulled up the video as David and Henry came to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the black and white footage now rolling lazily across the monitor. Tate sat off to the side; he was wearing a baseball cap and reading a magazine, his back to the door so anyone entering or exiting would never be able to distinguish his identity.
Nothing happened for a while, even when two figures – who were quite obviously Prince and King – entered the frame. The bald man and his apprentice sat in the back booth, just as the fiery-haired waitress had claimed, and began to speak. And then suddenly, Tate stilled, his body going as rigid as a board. The two men in the booth continued to speak and Killian frowned, how could he have even heard what they were saying?
Nevertheless, as had been described, Tate stood rather abruptly and made to rush out until the red-haired waitress caught his attention and pulled him back. He shoved a hand into his pocket, produced a fifty dollar bill and thrust it towards the woman before rushing off again and out the door, barely losing momentum throughout the strange three-second ordeal.
Prince and King didn't appear to have noticed at all, still thoroughly engrossed in their own conversations.
"What's the bad news?" David queried with furrowed brows, still watching the video as King eventually entered and began
"As you can see, while we know that something definitely alerted the deceased enough to make him scurry like a headless chook, we don't know what the dynamic duo in the back were saying," Ruby explained.
"But," Victor spoke up, "We know how he heard them."
"How?" David asked.
"If you could give me a moment, I will email you the footage from two days later," Ruby replied, the sound of her methodical tapping and the way her voice was slightly monotonous indicative of her preoccupation with the aforementioned task. There was the sound of a key being pressed harshly and then her voice again, "There you go."
Killian opened the new email and the new attachment promptly, bringing up the video as Ruby's commentary continued, "As you will see, Tate went back later to get something from the painting above the booth Prince and King were sitting in." On the monitor, Tate made his way quickly into the café and made a beeline for the back booth. Above the table, on the wall, hung a rather large thickly-framed painting of a ship. Tate moved at a brisk pace and shuffled in between the table and booth until he was close to the wall. Once there, he pulled up the painting so the bottom tilted off the wall and dragged his hand along the bottom edge.
About three-quarters of the way across the length of the frame he stopped and it was clear that he was pulling something off.
"A bug," Killian said, just as the man pulled back his hand and shoved it into his pocket before anyone in the café could see. And, just as swiftly as he'd entered, he exited.
"The police didn't find any voice recordings in his apartment or his notes," Henry remarked.
"So it's likely that Prince and King mentioned the mole and Tate heard. So, when the mole went through Tate's stuff, he or she took the bug and the recording," David suggested, moving away from the laptop and over to the white boards, picking up a marker and scribbling down the new information. Henry nodded in agreement and walked to join the Unit Chief, leaving Killian in front of the laptop. He paused the video and minimized the screen so he could see Ruby and Victor again.
They were having some kind of silent conversation, eyes intent on each other as various and unidentifiable expressions crossed their faces. He almost felt like he was intruding. Almost.
"Well," he began with a small cough, breaking the trance so both tech analysts turned to face him through the computer, "Thank you for that and let us know if you get anything else – I'll see you at the Gala, Rubz."
"That you will – try not to miss me too much until then," she grinned back, giving him a wave before the screen went black and Killian shut the laptop, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind his head. He turned to look at the other two agents – because Phillip was reviewing the profiles of Tate's co-workers again in the filing rooms – and chewed his bottom lip.
"Okay, so if Tate knew who the mole was, why would he have met that person out in the middle of the night? I thought this guy liked calculated risks?"
Henry diverted his attention away from the board to answer the agent's question, "Well, there could be a number of reasons. Though, judging from what we know and the known facts regarding human nature, we can narrow it down to two possible scenarios. Either (a)," the kid turned to face the white board and recorded his next words, "he didn't hear the actual name of the mole – just that there was one, or (b) he had a relationship with the mole and wanted to give them an opportunity to explain under the assumption that said individual wouldn't kill him."
"Sounds plausible," Killian answered, "So what next?"
This time it was David who turned around, placing a lid on the pen he held in his hand as he did. He pointed to both Henry and Killian and then to the door, "Next, we get ready for the gala. We'll pick up fresh tomorrow –"
The Irish agent groaned in his seat, "Is Regina really that desperate to –"
"Yes. Now get up, get out," His superior responded sternly, pointing to the door. Killian rolled his eyes but got up regardless, sliding the laptop towards Henry. Packing away his things, he tried to think of the positives of what was surely to come in a couple of hours. Free alcohol. Free food. Nice setting. Pretty girls.
And yet he couldn't help but picture one face in particular and hold onto the hope that she wasn't too 'sick' to attend.
8888
The ballroom was beautiful – elegant and brightly lit with white marble floors and a high ceiling decorated with glass chandeliers. To the east side of the room there was a long, mahogany bar where suited waiters occasionally passed to pick up platters of hors d'oeuvres. The center of the room was filled with people; some Killian recognized, others he wouldn't have been able to distinguish from a bar of soap. And around the north-west corner there were tall sterile tables with small flower arrangements adorning each one, the sort that aristocratic people stood around as they shared drinks.
He quickly caught sight of a familiar face as he entered the great hall, passing through the throngs of people politely. As he closed in on Phillip, the British agent turned and recognized Killian, a smile spreading across his lips as he approached. Beside him another dimly familiar face turned around and she smiled softly as well when Killian broke through the barrier of people separating them. He quickly extended his hand to Phillip and grinned when he took it, each studying the other.
"You look good, mate," Killian commented with a smirk.
"Not too bad yourself," Phillip replied, dropping his teammate's hand and tilting his body ever-so-slightly towards the woman beside him. Killian's eyes were drawn to her as the man moved and he cocked his head to the side, taking a step closer and looking at Phillip expectantly. Phillip looked between his date and his teammate for a second before he seemed to realize.
"Oh, oh right, yeah – Killian, this is Aurora. You two met –"
"On the 'Human Garrotte' case, I remember," Aurora finished, stretching out her hand for Killian to shake, which he did with a genuine smile. She wore a pale purple dress that fell in curtains of chiffon to the ground where it floated along the marble floor almost like a cloud. Her chestnut brown curls had been pulled back into a pony tail so the detailed neckline of her dress could be seen.
Killian had to admit, Phillip had impeccable taste. He almost felt bad that she wasn't his type. Almost.
"It's lovely to see you again, milady," he said, stepping back and hooking his hands in his pockets.
"So what's this gala for, again?" she asked with feint interest, long-lashed eyes drifting around the beautiful room with a mixture of admiration and wonder.
"Regina decided the FBI hadn't had enough exposure this year and I think Ruby told me she wants more funding," Killian said, the undercurrent of reproach easily recognizable, and shrugged. Phillip gave him a wary glance at the implications that the Gala was anything more than for show – like say, a subtle fundraiser.
"And you're surprised that a bureaucrat is trying to raise revenue?" Aurora asked Killian and Phillip with a sharp eyebrow and barely-present smirk, "Just because you're working for the government doesn't mean the suits aren't still trying to make money." Phillip pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, shooting his teammate an amused expression at the admiration slowly seeping into his features, replacing the shock that her sharp-witted response had initially evoked. Killian shook his head softly and smiled briefly before pulling his lips in a considerate line.
"Fair point, Milady. Fair point," he conceded simply and, judging by the way she grinned and shrugged modestly, she caught the approval in his stare.
"I'm going to get a drink, do you want one?" Aurora said, turning to Phillip.
"I can get it if you want," he suggested but she shook her head and kissed him on the cheek.
"No, I'll get it. You can chat with Killian in the meantime," she said, completely unaware of the way Phillip's face seemed to glow at her affectionate touch. With one last squeeze of his arm, she twisted away and made for the bar on the opposite side of the room.
Killian was about to point out the British agent's reaction to his date when he noticed the man's eyes now concentrated on something behind him and frowned when his voice came out with an edge of surprise.
"Oh, she came."
Phillip was looking over Killian's head and the latter shook his head, "Who?"
"Emma."
Killian turned quickly on the spot as anticipation seated itself in his heart and lungs, clogging his breathing before he even saw her. He barely heard Phillip's murmured, "She looks good for someone who was away sick today," because finally, amongst the hundreds of people in the room, he found her.
She had just entered through the foyer doors. And only one word came to mind amongst the fog that instantly began to cloud his thoughts.
Breathtaking.
He had always thought it was a ludicrous cliché men used to persuade women to sleep with them; the notion that someone's appearance could take your breath away was simply improbable. It was the sort of description he saw all too often in social media, young and old women alike exploiting the term in a scrambling effort to flatter a friend or family member, the meaning diluted as its incessant abuse thinned its impact. There were too many romance films where the word was thrown around like a sports ball, passed around so each character was given the title at least once.
Breathtaking.
He didn't handle the term lightly.
There were only so many things in the world Killian considered to be breathtaking and he could count them on one hand. And yet, as his eyes landed on her figure across the room, he found himself adding one more moment to that exclusive list as he felt an invisible vice close around his throat, dryness inhabiting his mouth. Every wisp of air evaporated from his lungs, the rest of the room fading into a kind of blur; her figure the only thing he could focus on.
Absurdly, he thought his heart even stuttered for a second.
She was bloody breathtaking.
His eyes drifted down her dress, the red fabric that draped around her neck, falling to her waist where it hugged her figure before tumbling gently to the floor. She didn't wear much jewelery, just a simple silver bracelet and her signature circle necklace, the pendant foregrounded by the deep V the front of her dress created. But she didn't need the gaudy adornments that many of the people surrounding her bore.
Her blonde hair was pulled up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, soft curls wound intricately into it so it looked as though a delicate flower had bloomed at the baseline of her hair. Locks of gold had escaped the pins and framed her face effortlessly – knowing her, she would have just done it herself, never realizing just the effect it created.
Simple but perfectly Emma.
Her skin glowed in the light thrown about by the beautiful glass chandeliers hanging from the roof like diamond teardrops. Killian had never considered himself the type of man to become enraptured by a woman's appearance. Evidently, he was wrong.
Like a bloody siren.
She was making her way towards him – them – passing a multitude of people as she glided through the ballroom in his direction. Beside him, Phillip smiled and whistled lowly as she approached, her eyes finally snapping up from the floor to the two male agents. She returned the smile somewhat tightly as she met both their eyes.
"Emma, you look stunning," the British agent said, stepping forward and kissing her on the cheek.
"Thanks," she said quietly, withdrawn, red tinting her cheeks faintly as she pulled back and her blue-green eyes landed on Killian.
He bit his lip for a moment before a genuine smile spread across his face, "Hey, beautiful."
Emma raised an eyebrow, an unamused expression pulling at her features as she looked over him, her eyes searching his face acutely when they reached it. He realized quickly that she was looking for a lie, searching for a hint of untruth in the icy blue depths of his eyes. He could almost pinpoint the moment she recognized the truth in his statement, an odd sensation sweeping over him as she appeared momentarily flustered. It should have offended him that she couldn't accept his compliment after she'd let Phillip do almost exactly the same, but it didn't; he was too entranced by her reaction to finding out he was being completely honest.
How could she not know?
Finding her voice she croaked out a husky greeting with an uncharacteristically stoic nod, "Jones."
"Phillip, I got our drinks – oh, who's this?"
Aurora appeared beside Phillip, two fluted champagne glasses in hand, and smiled brightly at the blonde. Emma smiled lightly and looked to Phillip expectantly as he took one of the glasses from Aurora.
"Aurora, this is one of my colleagues; Emma," he nodded to the blonde and the looked back at his date with muffled recognition, "Emma, this is Aurora. She's my date."
The woman in question took a step forward and extended her hand, a gesture which Emma returned with a surprising amount of warmth as she looked between the pair in front of her. The brunette was immediately scanning Killian's partner, her blue eyes gentle and admiring.
"I think I remember you from when you came to examine a body a couple of weeks ago - your dress is amazing, where'd you get it?" Aurora asked, returning to her place beside Phillip, leaning ever-so-slightly towards him. Killian watched as the British agents arm found its way around her waist, his hand landing effortlessly on her hip. He couldn't help but envy the ease with which they seemed to mould together, every movement somehow synchronized.
Emma smiled thoughtfully and looked down at herself, pulling gently at some of the fabric at her thigh, "I don't know. Ruby – I mean, our tech analyst – found it for me and told me to wear it or she'd send around my senior yearbook photo." Killian chuckled along with Phillip and Aurora, the latter of them reaching out to put a hand on Emma's elbow.
"Well it looks beautiful so she obviously has good taste," she said.
Phillip turned to her, "I can introduce you if you want?"
Aurora smiled brightly and turned around, suddenly looking through the crowd as if she could locate the tech analyst herself despite never having met her, "Oh, that would be great." She looked back to Phillip, "Can we?"
"Of course, I think I saw her a moment ago," he replied, giving Killian and Emma a passing nod as he led the woman at his side further into the crowd. As the couple left, music began to waft through the great hall and Killian had to shuffle back as a great circle was formed in the centre of the room. Dozens of couples immediately began floating towards the makeshift dance floor, coming together to waltz slowly to the melody.
Killian looked to his left, where Emma had been forced to stand beside him by the migrating people, her eyes locked on those who were swaying back and forth to the music. He didn't recall making a conscious decision to move but suddenly he was turning to face her, his hand extending in her direction as words tumbled seemingly uninhibited from his mouth.
"Care to dance?" he asked, watching as she looked down at his hand and raised an eyebrow incredulously.
"Seriously?" she retorted, outwardly unimpressed.
He smirked, the genteel façade fading to reveal his typical charm, "What?" he looked down to where he was sure she was wearing heels – she was definitely not usually this tall – and back up to her face, "Afraid you'll impale my feet?" Emma narrowed her eyes at him and looked back to the revolving bodies on the dance-floor, shaking her head faintly in a silent refusal to answer. But Killian loved a challenge; and a challenge, she was.
"Well?" he prompted, flourishing his hand once for emphasis so she tilted her head towards him again, her lips pursed.
"No, I just don't want to dance," she eventually said.
Killian grinned, reaching down and grasping her wrist softly so he could pull her into the circle of people. Emma opened her mouth to protest as he tugged her gently along but he revolved on the spot, talking before she could as he pulled her towards him to place his other hand on her waist, "Well, that's probably because you've never danced with me."
She rolled her eyes but, nonetheless, placed her hand delicately on his shoulder, falling into a slow waltz with him around the room. He smiled down at her, unequivocal satisfaction twinkling in his cerulean eyes as they danced. Emma looked into the crowd over his shoulder, her expression exasperated.
"You're impossible," she sighed.
"And you're breathtaking."
The reply came without thought and he watched as her eyes flicked back up to meet his, feeling suddenly raw and exposed under her penetrating gaze. Killian looked over her head, to the crowds that surrounded the dancing circle, and tried to ignore the way his left hand felt as it folded over hers, the way his shoulder burned through the fabric at her nearly indiscernible touch, the way the nerves of his right hand tingled at her waist. When he allowed himself to look back down at her face, her eyes were anywhere but his face, her bottom lip somewhere between her teeth.
His eyes stayed on her for a long while as they danced until the music slowed and they were forced to adopt a slower rock from side to side. He finally seemed to find words as his hand slid around her slender waist so it rested in the middle of her back, his calloused hands brushing the skin exposed there, and they were unwittingly brought closer together. Neither truly noticed the change in proximity, or wouldn't acknowledge it for fear of tumbling over a line in the sand that couldn't be crossed.
"So, you're looking pretty healthy for a person who was apparently sick all day," he said with contrived amusement, trying to lighten the mood.
"I guess it just passed through my system quickly," she replied evenly, her eyes narrowing for a short second. He smirked and nodded with faux understanding before leaning his head down so he could breathe in her ear. Distantly, he was aware of her hand tightening around his as she stiffened in his grip.
"You're a terrible liar."
Emma's steady purchase on his hand subsided as he pulled back to look at her eyes, now dissecting him with caution. Something else played around the edges of her gaze, something that put a deep pit in his stomach, but he couldn't quite place it enough to be sure. And it was gone before he could analyze it, along with the fragile moment as she spoke in an indifferent tone.
"How long have Aurora and Phillip been together?" she inquired absent-mindedly, eyes drifting over his shoulder and then back up to meet his.
"Not sure, I only found out a couple of weeks ago when he told me he was bringing her to the gala," Killian murmured back, gaze never leaving hers. She nodded and bit down on her bottom lip again and he had the sudden urge to ask a question, "Why didn't you bring anyone to the gala?"
Emma's eyebrow twitched in misunderstanding, "I don't know?" she murmured, "I just didn't. Why didn't you?"
Because the only person I wanted to take was already coming, a voice in his head wanted to say.
Oh you're so screwed, another part of him whispered knowingly.
"Same reason," he lied and wondered vaguely if she noticed the falsity that lay there. If she did, she chose not to call him out on it because her eyes simply flitted between his like they held the answer to some divine question. And he couldn't help but stare back as their bodies moved in tune with the soft melody wrapping itself around the hall like a warm blanket, enchanting everyone to join in the center of the room.
Vaguely, he noticed a flash to his left, but ignored it.
He didn't want to move – he didn't want to break this fragile moment playing out before him like a sweet symphony of touches and glances. The sort of thing only heard – felt – once in a lifetime. Something stirred to life deep inside of him and he frowned lightly down at her, because she was a puzzle. A mystery he had never been able to decode and he wondered if he'd ever cease to be amazed by that fact.
Sure, he knew her well; probably better than anyone. And yes, he could read her like an open book. But he could never pinpoint exactly who she was, as though the words of her life-novel were written in a foreign dialect, one he was only just beginning to translate.
And he suddenly felt an aching need to know her, inside and out. Everything.
The music drifted off and the people on the dance floor stopped moving. It took them both a moment to realize the dancing had ceased and they were moulded together for one extended second longer, before pulling away, clapping lightly for the band with their heads and sights anchored to the floor, every so often flitting to each other.
People began to mingle again, clumps forming as champagne was shared and Killian glanced at Emma. A consternated look had taken up residence on her face and he watched it warily until she met his eyes. She didn't speak but he could see her backpedalling before she even took a step.
Swallowing the urge to say something, anything, he smiled tightly at her and nodded, a silent exchange that she understood and looked oddly grateful for. She returned the gesture, the gratitude fleeting as she pivoted on her heel and walked into the crowd, heading for the table near the entry where the women's clutches were being kept.
He waited until she disappeared completely to start moving away, his feet feeling as though they'd been singed to the spot where they'd danced. Shrugging his shoulders, trying to brush off the burn of her touch, he searched the room. Phillip and Aurora were standing at one of the tall tables in the corner of the hall and he immediately made a beeline for the couple. The latter was laughing at something her date said, her giggle soothing. She spotted him as he approached and bit down on her lip to hold back the laughter. When Phillip saw her change in expression, he followed her gaze and smiled, waving at the agent as he approached.
"Did you just dance, Killian Jones?" he asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows as the agent in question came to a halt on the opposite side of the tall, skinny table.
"I was teaching Swan how to waltz properly," he retorted, leaning on the dark wooden surface. Aurora smiled affectionately in Killian's direction and set down her champagne glass, pointing between him and the crowds behind him. Her cool blue eyes glinted with a mixture of intrigue and commendation.
"So, how long have you and Emma…?" her voice trailed off, the subtext of her question glaringly obvious. Beside her, Phillip's eyes widened at almost the exact moment Killian's did as both hastened to correct her, lest Emma catch wind of her insinuations.
"What? No! No, we aren't –"
Phillip caught his partner's gaze and Killian could see the wordless message there as he confirmed, "They aren't together, Aurora."
Her cheeks instantly began to redden and she put a hand over her mouth, "Oh. Oh, sorry – I just thought," The brunette looked at Phillip again, almost questioningly, and Killian nearly didn't notice the imperceptible shake of his head. He hated when couples communicated silently, it always made it difficult for him to keep up with conversations – it was a good thing he liked Phillip or he just might slap him for participating in the sappy habit. Aurora's face smoothed and she nodded once, turning back to Killian "Never mind."
He didn't like the way she regarded him, a knowing edge to her smile, and repeated his sentiments a little breathlessly, "We just work together."
Aurora simply nodded, "Okay."
Killian's eyes narrowed fractionally and he opened his mouth to probe her expression when he felt someone pinch his backside and instantly straightened on the spot, spinning around to question the culprit. Deep red lips and a wolfish grin greeted him, and he couldn't help but return the expression.
"Hey handsome."
"Red!" Killian said with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek before pulling back to look over the long-sleeved, deep burgundy dress that hugged her figure, "You look beautiful."
Ruby smiled and waved a hand at him dismissively, "Did you ever doubt I would?"
He shook his head with a smirk as she sidled up to him at the table, "Never."
"So, what have I missed – who is this?" the tech analyst said, catching sight of the foreigner beside Phillip and immediately studying her like a strange new specimen – or a recently developed piece of technology.
Aurora smiled warmly and extended a hand as Phillip pointed between the women, "Ruby, this is Aurora. Aurora - Ruby."
As they shook hands, Aurora spoke in a kind voice, "I've heard so much about you – including that you picked Emma's dress which, by the way, is absolutely stunning. I think you missed your calling as a stylist." When they pulled away, Ruby's grin had increased tenfold and she nodded impressively, turning to Killian and pointing in the direction of the woman she'd just met.
"I like her – can we keep her?" she asked in a completely serious tone, eliciting a chuckle from the group surrounding the table. Killian shook his head mock-exasperatedly with a half-smile, and exchanged a look of mutual understanding with the British agent opposite him. As the laughter died off, Ruby turned her attention to Aurora again and indicated between her and the man whose arm was wrapped gently around her waist – a motion that was far too similar to the one Aurora had just directed to Killian.
"So where did you two meet?"
"I'm the medical examiner at Waverly Morgue. We met on the 'Human Garrotte' case," Aurora replied politely, tilting her head to meet Phillip's eyes.
The man was most definitely smitten.
Ruby slapped the table lightly, making the couple jump with surprise, "Oh! That's so cool!" she said enthusiastically, "I was going to study forensic science until I started my love affair with computers."
"You're the tech analyst right?" the other woman inquired, not at all perturbed by the outburst of excitement.
Ruby nodded emphatically, her hand coming up to grip Killian's forearm as she replied in a breathy and completely overdramatic tone, "Yep, I'm the proverbial glue that holds the team together."
"Bullshit."
"Don't be jealous, Killy," she said, unfazed by his comment, hand still clasped around his arm as she looked towards Aurora. Her expression denoted a need for empathy and Aurora conceded with a nod of faux understanding, a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth.
At the moniker, Killian turned to Ruby and fixed her with a stern gaze, though there was an obvious undertone of amusement, "I swear to God, Red, if you call me that one more time I'm going to personally rip all the chords out of your fancy computers and feed them to David's dog." She narrowed her eyes at him, dropping her hand so they could face each other dead-on, neither blinking as she answered.
"You wouldn't dare."
He smirked and leaned forward, purposefully widening his eyes so there was a deranged aspect to his expression as he countered, "Oh, but I would."
Phillip rolled his eyes at their antics and rapped the dark wooden table twice with his fist, breaking the staring contest so both team members turned to face him. "Settle, children," he admonished with a deadpan expression. Killian glanced once more at the brunette beside him, chuckling under his breath when she poked her tongue out like a petulant child.
Ruby's eyes zeroed in on Aurora as they returned their attention to the table and she gave Phillip a devious smile.
"Hey Aurora," she said with a bright and telling grin, "would you like to come get a drink with me?"
Phillip hurried to reply, lifting the half-filled glass his date had been sipping from all night, "She's already got one."
Aurora raised an eyebrow at the British agent and replied nonetheless, "I could use another." She kissed him briefly on the cheek, winking once before slipping out of his arm and moving around the table to follow Ruby. Phillip's eyes trailed her warily and reached out a hand as they started to walk away.
"No, but – "
Ruby's hushed voice could only just be heard by the two men still standing at the table, "I have so much to tell you…"
The two women disappeared into the crowd and there was silence at the small table for a moment. Killian was directing his poorly concealed smirk of enjoyment at the floor when Phillip's voice demanded his attention, the agent shooting him an exasperated look, "Well shit, Jones, now Ruby has run off with my date and is probably going to scare her off."
Killian shook his head and shrugged, a crooked half-smile on his face, "Oh, I don't know. I think you underestimate Aurora's capacity for weirdness."
Phillip glared momentarily before looking over the other agent's shoulder again, eyes straining for some sign of their tech analyst and his date – who was surely being informed of some of his most embarrassing moments on the team. It only made Killian chuckle and he was about to try and locate the bar when a male voice caught his attention so he turned to the source of it.
"Hey guys, have you seen Ruby?"
"Victor?" Phillip asked, no longer searching for Ruby and Aurora among the hordes of people, and raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"
"Regina invited some CIA agents – I guess I made the list," Victor replied apathetically, shrugging, "It was weird, actually. I only got the invite yesterday… I guess it got caught up in the emailing system." Killian frowned and turned to see his expression mirrored by Phillip; he was right that the Section Chief had indeed invited numerous representatives of the Central Intelligence Agency. However, it was incredibly strange that she should invite someone so far down the totem pole as the tech analyst and at such late notice.
Something about it smelt fishy – not in a 'corrupt-agent' kind of way, more of an amusing something-right-under-his-nose sort of way. And something about it absolutely reeked of a certain brunette tech analyst. Regardless, Killian dropped Phillip's gaze and looked to Victor on his other side.
"So Victor, how do you like working at the CIA?" he asked thoughtfully.
The man shrugged, "It's alright – I mean, I don't get nearly as much free reign as Ruby… which is weird, considering that she's the one who technically works under me." He frowned in thought as Killian chuckled under his breath.
"Well, lovely Red has never really dealt with authority well," he commented fondly.
"No, she doesn't does she," Victor said, a strange and oddly admiring note in his tone. The way his voice dipped affectionately made Killian's head snap up and he felt something of a big-brother tendency start to bubble its way to the surface. He studied the blonde man intently, the way his eyes took on a far-off look at the mention of Ruby, his lips instantly tilting into a grin at her name.
The beginnings of something more than friendship were already there, and it made Killian smile faintly. Another, more protective part of him – the part that was something of a brother to Ruby – crowed in protest, it's only been two bloody days!
"Hey, where did Emma go?" Phillip asked, bringing him back to the present when he heard his partner's name.
"I actually don't know," Killian replied, glancing over the room and coming up empty.
"She was walking towards David and his date when I got here," Victor mentioned absent-mindedly, taking a small hors d'oeuvre from a platter as a caterer passed them, striding in the direction of the kitchens.
"What about us?"
Mary Margaret looked between the three men as she appeared at the table with David at her side, his arm wrapped securely around her middle so they were all but glued together. She was wearing an orange dress, sheer sleeves and a lacework of detailing around her collarbones. He was wearing a tailored grey suit.
"Ah, speaketh and they shall appear," Killian chimed to the other two men.
Mary Margaret grinned at him, her eyes drifting down his silhouette and coming back up to meet his ice blue eyes, "Hello Killian, you look rather dashing." He took her hand and pressed a soft peck to her knuckles, winking at her as he responded.
"Thank you milady – though I would ask you keep your compliments to a minimum around the bossman. Wouldn't want him getting jealous now, would we?"
The Unit Chief raised his eyebrows dubiously and scoffed, "Jealous? Of you?"
Killian reached out to pat David's arm mock-comfortingly, fixing him with an expression of understanding as Mary Margaret exchanged greetings with the other two men at the table, "No need to mask your feelings with bravado, David. I can see the pain in your eyes."
His superior shook his head, "You're an idiot."
"See? The bond between us is just – indescribable," Killian acknowledged sarcastically, pointing between them so a laugh was shared around the table. Mary Margaret was the one to pull them back to the conversation, cocking her head in Phillip's direction.
"So what were you guys talking about?" she inquired.
Her question evidently jogged the British agent's memory and his eyes widened with remembrance, "Oh, yeah," he looked between the newly arrived couple, "Do you guys have any idea where Emma went?" Killian tried to appear indifferent to the inquest as David answered, pointing over his shoulder towards the entrance uninterestedly.
"Yeah, she had to take a call. Why?"
Phillip shook his head and shrugged, "No reason, just didn't know where she went."
"She looks gorgeous, doesn't she?" Mary Margaret commented with a bright grin, eyes shooting momentarily in Killian's direction, to which they all nodded fervently in agreement.
"Hey guys," Regina's assistant Sidney said from somewhere behind Killian, prompting him to turn towards the man. He held a large and professional-looking camera in his hands and smiled beseechingly. Signalling with his hands for them to shuffle together, he asked, "Regina wants photos of everyone tonight so can you scoot together so I can get a shot?"
Mary Margaret smiled, "Okay."
They quickly formed a line and smiled, the camera flash blinding Killian momentarily. As they relaxed, Sidney looked down at his camera to check the photo. He gave them the thumbs up, "Nice, thanks guys." His face contorted into one of mild uncertainty as he looked around their general vicinity, "Where's Ruby and Emma and Henry? I'll need one of the entire team."
"What about us?"
Emma, now carrying a clutch bag, and Henry emerged from the crowds, alongside Ruby and Aurora who were nursing new glasses of champagne. Killian was starting to think his teammates had psychic abilities – what with the way they were constantly showing up upon having their names mentioned. He wondered what would happen if he said Beyoncé enough times…
"Ah, there they are!" Sidney beamed.
"Aurora and I found her and Henry near the bar," Ruby explained to the rest of the team.
"But I wasn't drinking," Henry corrected swiftly, looking at each of his team members for emphasis.
"Sure thing, Henry," Killian murmured just loud enough so the kid could hear and shoot him an insistent look, an expression which only fuelled his delight. So bloody naïve and modest, even with the bruises around his face yellowing – Killian had to give it to Henry, he was tougher than he let on.
Sidney interrupted them with an adamant nod, "That's great, could you three get in the photo." Ruby, Emma and Henry moved to each side of their line and, when Aurora moved in as well and Mary Margaret was still in the picture, Sidney politely added, "I just want the team for this one. Thanks ladies… okay," he aimed up the camera, "Smile!" There was another bright flash and Killian had to blink a couple of times as he dropped his arms from around his team members. He only vaguely heard Regina's assistant as he said, "Awesome! Thanks guys. I'll leave you all to it."
"No problem Sidney," Phillip acknowledged as the man scuttled off.
Killian turned to Henry, appraising the clean cut suit the young agent had adorned for the evening. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval, "You look good, kid."
Henry's toothy grin spread wide and fast across his face, "Thanks Killian, so do you."
"Do the two of you need a room?" Phillip asked with a raised eyebrow. Beside him, Aurora chuckled and shook her head as Killian's eyes widened comically and he turned to the British man with melodramatic shock.
"Was that sass, Phillip?" he balked.
"Perhaps it was," the agent shrugged, convincingly impassive despite the grin threatening to break out and crack his cheeks. They had been smiling far too much for one evening – though Killian guessed it was only because their jobs only prompted so much joviality that they found the constant laughter and cheerfulness strange. It was different, but it was nice.
He turned to look at Emma just as she spoke up with a deep sigh, "I need a drink."
She pivoted on her heel and began moving towards the drinks before any of them could speak up. Killian watched her for about a second before tilting his head briefly towards his team members and repeating, "So do I."
He caught up to her quickly, the back of her head unmistakable in the crowds as her red dress fluttered around behind her. As he reached her, still walking in the direction of the bar, he bumped her shoulder lightly to catch her attention and she jumped. She turned to face him for a moment before recognition flitted across her features and her face tensed with forced nonchalance.
"What do you want?" she asked stonily.
Killian frowned down at her and shrugged, "I'm parched and I thought I should join you in your endeavour for a drink."
Emma rolled her eyes as they both reached the bar and he leaned on it lazily, watching her intently. It was only then, with a good moment to analyze her face, that he noted the harried undertones in her green eyes, muting the usual vibrancy with… was that panic?
The pit in his stomach from earlier that day, when he'd learned of her 'sick-day,' returned and he itched to ask her what was wrong. But he knew better.
"One glass of Perrier-Jouët please," Emma ordered as the bartender drew near.
Killian put his hand in the air to get the bartender's attention as he added, "Make that two." His partner turned to him when they were left alone again, setting her elbow on the edge of the bar so she could lean ever-so-slightly on it.
"So who called you before?" he questioned innocently, gaze floating carelessly around the room. From his peripheral vision he could see as she stiffened, face closing off instantaneously, all the tell-tale signs that something was most definitely up. He almost expected her to ask how he knew – a response about David and Mary Margaret's retelling ready on his lips.
"That's none of your business," she retorted icily just before the bartender returned with their glasses. She picked hers up and began to move gracefully away again, gliding across the floor so he had to snatch up his own fluted wine glass and jog after her, careful to keep his motions smooth so the champagne didn't spill.
He managed to get in front of her, cutting off her path and levelling her with a look of concerned scrutiny, "I'm your partner – it is most definitely my business." Her eyes narrowed indignantly and, before she could speak, he added (as a saving grace), "Especially if it's about the case."
Emma bit down on her lip to hold back whatever she'd intended to say. Taking a deep breath, her eyes intent on his, she replied coldly, "It wasn't about the case," her eyebrows drew together, "Why would it be about the case? I wasn't even in today?"
Killian shrugged, "I assumed, knowing you, that you would have done some kind of background work from home. I've never known anything to keep you down for long."
Emma didn't respond – and for a second she almost appeared shocked by his underhanded compliment. But then the mask was back and she was shaking her head and walking towards the table of their peers.
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Aurora pinched Phillip's side so he turned to face her, her delicate eyebrows drawn up in an expression of scepticism. She looked out to where Killian and Emma were walking towards the bar, disappearing amongst the crowd of suits and pretty dresses, "Are you sure they're not together?"
Ruby spoke up from beside the couple, cutting off any response from the British agent, "Sometimes it's hard to tell but we're pretty sure it hasn't happened yet." She took a measured sip of her champagne, her own brown eyes seeking out the partners and watching them with interest.
"Yet?"
Aurora's voice rose an octave as she leaned forward, as though she'd misheard the tech analyst who simply smiled in response.
"You've seen them," Ruby said, nodding in their general direction and locking her eyes onto Phillip's date again. A sanctimonious grin breached her face, red lips spreading to reveal straight, white teeth, "Are you going to tell me that sexual tension isn't going to boil over eventually?" The way her eyebrows wiggled suggestively left Phillip choking on the champagne he'd just swallowed.
Jones was rubbing off on her way too much.
"Can we please not talk about this?" he pleaded, an embarrassed blush already creeping up his neck.
Ruby nodded with feigned understanding, "You're right, Phillip." She paused and looked around the group, her smile initially small but spreading as she continued to meet the eyes of her team members, "Let's bet on it. Twenty bucks says they do the do before your vowel renewals," she said, motioning casually to David and Mary Margaret who stood opposite her, the latter sporting a perceptive smirk.
"Ruby," Phillip chided, shooting her a half-hearted glare.
Victor took the opportunity to speak up, shrugging and looking to the woman beside him, "I'm with Rubz; they won't be able to keep it together much longer from what I've seen and heard."
"What the bloody hell did you tell him?" Phillip demanded in a harsh whisper, his reactions only making the tech analyst's grin wider. Aurora laughed at him and they were all surprised to hear Mary Margaret speak up, her eyes fixed on Ruby with a challenging edge.
"Fifty says it's after."
"You're on, boss wife," she replied.
David rolled his eyes but didn't intercede. Ruby, on the other hand, was relishing in the discussion and nearly jumped from surprise when Henry's voice announced from somewhere beside Phillip, "I've got twenty on after the new year." Everyone seemed to turn to the kid with a mixture of shock and amusement – not so naïve after all, it seemed.
Aurora was the next to place a bet, "I'm with Henry," she said confidently.
Phillip's eyes widened as he stared down at his date and she narrowed her eyes, tapping his nose affectionately as she said, "Don't give me those judgy eyes."
He scoffed, "I never give you judgy eyes."
"You so do!" she retorted, hitting him softly on the chest. He caught her hand and they laughed before she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek.
As the couple continued their sickeningly sweet display of affection, Henry raised his hand to get Ruby's attention and, when she turned to look at him, asked "Wait, so are we betting on them getting together, like in a relationship or…?" He left the question hanging, clearly uncomfortable with explicitly stating just what they were all betting on.
Ruby barked a laugh, "Do you really think they'll ever get into a relationship without doing the thing?" she asked incredulously and Henry nodded in embarrassed understanding, turtling himself into the space between Phillip and David. There was a long pause as the novelty wore off and they all simply looked around at each other.
Phillip and Aurora were still lost in their own little world when Mary Margaret asked with a cocked head, her eyes intent on Emma and Killian as they made their way back, "…Do you think it's wrong that we're betting on them getting together?"
Every head in their group (sans Aurora and Phillip) tilted in the direction of the couple in mention, studying them for a second before Ruby shrugged unapologetically, "Nah."
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When they reached their team members again, everyone was quieter than before and Killian felt oddly like he'd stumbled into a high school movie: the type where people accidentally interrupted conversations about themselves. He eyed them all suspiciously and glimpsed at Emma by his side, expecting her to return his confused expression. But her attention was elsewhere as she pulled her phone out of her clutch and stepped away from the group to read something on the screen.
The second her eyes touched whatever rested on the small monitor, they clouded with a strange yet terrifying mixture.
Dread.
Anxiety.
Regret.
Fear.
He didn't understand the strange fleeting and flickering emotions in her green orbs, but he wanted to. Emma was still for a second and Killian nearly reached out, the skin on his fingers yearning to touch her, coax her into letting him in. But he didn't, so when she looked up and met his gaze like a startled deer, he wasn't surprised to see a blockade to her inner thoughts.
His partner stepped back towards the group and placed her phone in her clutch again with a sharp snap.
"What was that?" Henry asked curiously.
Emma stammered momentarily, "I – I, uh, have to go. Sorry guys, have fun for the rest of the night."
The women sighed sadly and moved forward to hug her goodbye. Killian stood idly to the side as he watched their co-workers farewell her for the evening. She smiled tightly at each embrace, an expression that never quite reached her eyes, until only Killian was left.
But she didn't turn to him.
She simply turned around and left, heading straight for the glass doors out of the hall.
Killian watched her swing politely around the people in the room, either unaware or uncaring that his team members might see him blatantly staring after her. He watched her duck into the hallway past the glass entrance, spinning precariously on her heel and walking briskly out the double doors. He didn't realize he'd started moving until he felt the brushes along his shoulder as he pushed through the crowd of well-dressed people, ignoring the occasional glare sent his way as he stumbled past his co-workers and other foreign dignitaries. The amount of people dwindled towards the front of the room and he finally had a clear enough path to the door, jogging lightly to it and thrusting it open.
As he entered the brightly lit corridor, he could hear her heels clicking against the marble floor to his left and turned to see her striding away. Her dress fluttered behind her, the delicate red material in danger of getting caught on the stilettos she was wearing.
Killian frowned, confused as to why she might leave so early. What had she seen on her phone that might make her want to leave so abruptly?
He ran after her, calling out, "Hey Swan!" She stopped at her name and turned to face him, her expression hardening as her eyes landed on him. When he finally reached her, he shook his head and pointed to where they'd come from.
"Where are you going?" he asked lightly.
Emma dropped his gaze, looking over his shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.
"What do you want, Jones?" she asked bluntly, her mouth set in a tight line.
He actually found himself stammering, a deep frown creasing his forehead, "Nothing," he explained, "I just…" She continued to refuse to meet his eyes, and there was something like disdain in her face. Killian looked around them and scratched the back of his neck; he wasn't used to feeling so tentative around her – this woman he'd spent years working with. Her green eyes were unfocused as there was a pregnant pause between them.
"Have I done something wrong?" he finally asked, craning his neck to force his face into the path of her eyes. They snapped onto him, the storm latching onto the sea and unwittingly forming fire.
"No," she answered curtly.
Killian could feel the air around them becoming taught, pushing them closer to a precipice from which they would not emerge. He cocked his head to the side, feeling the indignation slowly pool in his chest.
"Then why are you trying to avoid me?" he said, enunciating his words sharply.
"I'm not."
"Don't lie," Killian snapped back, the fragile patience slowly breaking to reveal resentment. She didn't respond though, her lip curling back in an imperceptible snarl as she spoke again. He felt his hackles rise menacingly as he stared her down.
"What do you want?" she asked without a trace of concern.
He took a marginal step closer, his head tilted down so he held her gaze evenly. Apprehension flitted briefly behind her eyes before any emotion was sealed up by her stony façade. Killian felt her tense at his proximity, "I want to know why you won't be within a one meter radius of me."
She scoffed, letting an air of disdain roll off her in tangible waves, "I don't know what you're talking about." The blonde made motion to turn around and Killian found his arm striking out of its own volition to grasp her arm. His calloused fingers brushed the skin there, his grip firm and unyielding but not harsh. She looked down at his hand on her arm and then revolved to face him again, her eyes flashing angrily.
He let his hand drop, his tone softening along with his eyes.
"Emma," he pleaded with uncharacteristic placidity.
Killian was shocked when his gentle approach had the opposite effect. Emma stiffened and she levelled him with a scornful stare, "I am not dealing with your insecurities right now."
He almost heard the sound of his patience shattering like concrete cracking and breaking under the pressure of her scathing words. Like a light switch, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine; like unwanted energy. Killian groaned furiously, stepping closer to her – a movement which she responded to by taking an automatic step back.
"Goddamn it Emma, your mood swings are giving me fucking whiplash!" he roared loudly, stepping closer again and forcing her to take another step back lest they be toe-to-toe. He looked around the hall as if the walls held the answers, "One minute you're starting to let me in and the next you're acting like I'm one of the un-subs! What the hell is up with you?"
He didn't realize it until she stopped moving backwards that he'd cornered her against a wall. Her eyes flitted between his but there was no trace of fear. It seemed to evaporate in the stifling heat of his rage. She moved her face closer to his and nearly spat the word.
"Nothing!"
It was an outright lie and he wondered indolently if she remembered his uncanny ability to read her. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at her with a look of pure antagonistic disbelief.
"Don't give me that bullshit!" he jeered, "I can tell when you're lying too and that was a big one!"
Emma simply glared at him, and he thought vaguely that if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under. Despite his best efforts to hold onto his anger, he found his eyes raking over her face. She was livid and yet her features still had the potential for art. Her jaw was locked and he tried in vain to concentrate on anything but her lips.
"It's none of your business, Jones," she finally hissed through clenched teeth.
It was like a whip cracking against his tolerance and Killian clenched his fists at his sides. He took a small step back, and was unnerved when he saw her release a breath of relief. It didn't perturb him though, his lilting voice coming out cracked and deep with the emotion it held.
"Yes it is!" he yelled. He shook his head and raked his right hand through his already mussed hair, shutting his eyes tightly. When they reopened, he locked his gaze onto hers and bit down on his lip, "God, you've never trusted me," he sighed exasperatedly.
His voice rose as the pent up resentment from the past month tore its way out of his chest with animal ferocity, "You're so freaking guarded I swear you think every person you meet is going to screw you over!"
Apparently, that was when Emma's patience snapped.
Killian stumbled backwards as she shoved him in the chest hard. She maintained their close proximity, matching his every step back with a step forward until they were standing in the center of the long hallway, chests almost touching. Her eyes were alight with fury and she pointed a delicate finger at him violently, "No, I don't trust you because you're a smug bastard and yeah, we might be partners but that's all there's ever been!" For some reason, that Killian didn't want to identify, her words cut into him like a blade. However, it was soothed slightly by the knowledge that she was lying.
"Lie," he countered simply.
She ground her teeth at the curt dismissal, anger radiating from her like a bulb.
"I'm not lying! Fuck, Jones, you can't help but stick your nose in everything. What's going on is my business and mine alone. I haven't asked you for help because I don't want it or need it. So, leave me alone."
Her acrimonious glare was met with equal force by his and he took a calculated step back.
"Fine!" he said belligerently, throwing his hands up in frustration. He was done with her; too much effort had already been wasted on trying to compartmentalize every interaction they shared. Killian looked at the wall, his hands landing on his side as he shook his head, "Fine. I'm done."
There was a moment of absolute stillness before she turned around and continued heading down the hall. He watched her go, and his voice acted of its own accord when he called out to her, surprised by the cadence of his voice.
"Where are you going?" he called to her retreating figure.
She didn't turn around once, and he barely heard her reply before she turned the corner, her dress wafting behind her like an elegant red cloud of smoke.
"I'm leaving. Enjoy your night."
And then her blonde hair disappeared around the corner and he was left alone in the long hallway, wondering what he'd ever thought he could accomplish with her.
"You too," he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, the prospect of returning to the large ballroom wasn't so appealing.
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