All Grown Now (inside we're the same)
Emma's finally able to start putting the past behind her, just as Killian's decides to come back and haunt him.
Being with Killian isn't like being with Neal. It isn't like anything she could have expected and she kind of hates that she keeps comparing the two in the back of her mind. But being with Neal was a rush all the time — just the two of them against the world. Emma had felt like they could do anything, as long as they had each other.
Killian seems to think she could do anything entirely on her own.
Being with him is a rush too. Every single time he looks at her she's sure her heart skips a beat. But it feels different — safe, she thinks the word is. And she can't remember the last time she felt safe around anyone.
They take their time with things for the first couple months, even if they see each other almost every day. Emma can't even count the number of toe-curling kisses and teasing touches before she finally sleeps over at his place. But it'd been a hellish night at work despite his near constant texting as he pulled an all-nighter of his own. (They were only together a week before she bought a phone and a cheap plan with minimal minutes but unlimited texting.) She just wants to crash afterwards, but when she gets to the garage she's gripped by the need to see him. For there to be something redeemable about the day. Emma's not even sure how she stays awake long enough to drive over. When Killian opens the door he looks as exhausted as she feels and he wraps his arms around her as she steps into him. They're asleep within twenty minutes and she's never slept better.
(When they wake up around noon and spend a couple more hours wrapped up in bed together, well, that's never been better either.)
Emma doesn't stay over often, only once a week or so, and she resists showering there for a long time. (It's not that his bathroom isn't clean, it's cleaner than most and better than the showers at the YWCA, but she doesn't want it to seem like she's just sleeping with him for the private bathroom.) When she eventually gives in, Killian gets her her own towel and a little basket to keep her toiletries in. It may just be the cutest thing anyone's ever bought for her, even if he only got it so she can keep her stuff in his room and not upset Will's delicate bachelor pad sensibilities. To compensate, Emma tries to cook them dinner as a thank you but it turns out the only thing she's any good at is grilled cheese.
Clearly, all the time she spends at the diner has had no effect on her culinary skills. She's still working the overnight shift seven days a week, but Granny did give her a raise like she had said and they make a new deal that lets her stay in the garage rent-free as long as she's in school.
The catch there is that Emma has no idea what she wants to study, and so she spends a lot of time browsing different programs and trying to sort out what she can afford. She's got time to figure it out though — by the time she writes the SATs in late May and then has her results back, she's missed the deadline to register somewhere for the fall semester.
When Ruby gets her acceptance to vet school, Granny hires another girl to pick up her shifts and promotes Emma to assistant manager. The title comes with another raise, and suddenly she's making decent money and only working nights half the time, her day shifts filled with new tasks like ordering and scheduling. The whole thing feels out of the blue, and it makes her wonder if she shouldn't start looking at restaurant manager programs as a way to pay back all the kindness the older woman has shown her. It's not the way she ever pictured her life going, but it's a lot better than some of the alternatives.
Ruby and Killian take her promotion as an excuse to push her to move out of the garage and she begrudgingly agrees to look at apartments with them. Boston isn't cheap though, and despite the salary increase there's not much in the area that she can afford while still saving for college. Ruby's solution for that is a roommate and she makes the suggestion often. Usually in Killian's presence and paired with an obvious wink.
(Emma's grateful that he ignores the comments, only giving her a raised eyebrow and smirk whenever the subject comes up. She likes him a lot, but she's nowhere near ready to live with him.)
"I've got the perfect place," Ruby declares one afternoon, waltzing into the diner and slipping behind the counter as if she still works there. "You remember Mary Margaret, right?"
Emma winces because she absolutely remembers Mary Margaret as well as the embarrassment that had shot through her when she found out the student login she'd stolen back during Social Psychology belonged to one of Ruby's closest friends.
(Killian had laughed when she'd confessed it to him, kissing her hair and promising to keep her criminal past a secret.)
(If only he knew.)
"Cute pixie cut, practically already married to her prince charming?" Ruby continues, oblivious to Emma's discomfort. "Anyway, she's got a loft right by Coolidge Corner. She's been crashing with David on the weekends and renting it out to tourists for some extra cash, but she's had a couple bad apples and now she's looking for a roommate instead! What do you think?"
"A loft?" she asks, because if she had reservations about the idea of sharing an apartment with someone she is definitely skeptical at the thought of sharing a place lacking in actual walls. Ruby knows it too, and she raises a hand before Emma can shut her down. "I know what you're thinking. But Mary Margaret has her own thing all set up with curtains and stuff so you would have the upstairs to yourself. And since there's not actually a door, it's super cheap!"
"I don't know..."
"Just come look at it with me tomorrow. No pressure."
Emma sighs, and wonders if she's ever going to be able to say no to either one of the Lucas women when they get it in their minds to help.
When she and Ruby drive over the next day, she has to admit that the location is pretty perfect. It'd be basically a straight shot up Beacon Street to get to the diner, and while it's not a lot closer to Killian's place, it's at least in the right direction. Ruby's practically bouncing as she takes her up to the apartment and Emma does her best to seem cautiously optimistic.
"It's gonna be great, I promise," she says, knocking on the door. "Mary Margaret is the nicest, sweetest person you'll ever meet."
Emma has half a mind to ask how Ruby described her to her friend, but keeps her mouth shut as the door opens.
"Hi! You must be Emma," the other girl says. "I know we've probably seen each other before but it's nice to officially meet you."
"You too," she says, following Ruby inside.
The loft is spacious, boasting an open kitchen and full-sized table, a seating area, a large bathroom, and enough room leftover for Mary Margaret to block off a bedroom for herself. The décor look like shabby-chic threw up in it but Emma is surprised to find it all oddly charming. Her tour is brief — the upstairs is decorated much the same, with salvaged furniture and slanted wood panelled walls covered in distressed white paint. There's a double bed in the middle of the space, covered in pillows and floral and something in Emma's heart twinges when she looks at it.
As they head back downstairs and settle onto stools at the kitchen counter to talk business, she can't help the way her eye travels up the open staircase to where her room would be.
She's never had a double bed all to herself before.
Mary Margaret's father is paying for the place, apparently, and her would-be roommate was only renting it out so she could pocket some spending money without giving up her volunteer gig at the hospital. That's still all she's looking for, so the rent really would be an amazing deal, and the upstairs comes fully furnished so Emma wouldn't have to buy anything. It's the kind of opportunity that she almost has to take a chance on. And the loft does feel homey… she's just not sure if it feels like home.
Mary Margaret is talking about how she can redecorate the upstairs if she signs a contract for a year but Emma's barely listening, her eye drawn to a little metal canister at the end of the counter that's not unlike the ones they have at the diner. She's reaching for it before she's even thought it out until Ruby nudges her back to the present.
Emma jumps like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar and immediately goes to put it back. When she looks back to Mary Margaret though the other girl is smiling apologetically. "It's cinnamon," she explains. "I don't have a lot of cupboard space so I leave it out even though I mostly just use it in the winter for hot chocolate."
"You put cinnamon on your hot chocolate?"
And it's the smallest thing, but suddenly she feels a kinship with this other person that she can't explain.
Emma takes a breath and folds her arms on the counter. "Can we try it for a month? See how it goes?"
Mary Margaret nods. "Definitely," she says, offering her hand.
Ruby claps as they shake on it and the only thing Emma can do is wonder what Killian's going to think when she tells him the news.
Killian's thrilled. (And really, what else did she expect?) He's been on her about getting a place just as much as Ruby has, even if his methods are less of the pushy and more of the encouraging variety. He insists that she wait to move until he has a day off work so that he can help, which strikes Emma as mildly ridiculous. He's been to the garage, he knows she's still living out of a suitcase and a couple boxes, it's not like she has much to move. But he's adamant that not helping would somehow tarnish his reputation and cast their entire relationship in doubt. And it's kind of cute, so Emma humours him. The following Tuesday he comes over just after lunch and helps her get everything ready to take out to the car.
"I'm proud of you, you know," he says, folding her baby blanket carefully and setting it on top of one of the boxes.
She snorts and tucks the last corner of her just-cleaned sheets onto the mattress. "For what?"
Killian hands her the pillow she'd pulled off in order to make the bed (she wants to leave this place as clean as possible, Granny's given her too much for her to do otherwise) and crosses his arms over his chest.
"For giving this a shot. I know you've got your reservations about the whole loft/roommate thing, but I think it's really good."
Emma shrugs and doesn't meet his eyes, uncomfortable with the whole subject. "It's only for a month, there's no guarantee it'll work out after that. My hours are ridiculous — sometimes starting early, sometimes finishing early — and I'm not exactly the easiest person to get along with. I know that. I can be —"
"Swan," he stops her with his hands on her shoulders. Emma looks up at him reluctantly and he gives her her favourite soft smile. The one that makes her chest feel embarrassingly warm and fuzzy.
"It's going to be good."
She takes a breath and nods. "I'm nervous," she admits.
He kisses her, thumbing at her chin as he pulls away. "It's going to be good," he repeats.
And it is. Mary Margaret is exactly as advertised; probably the nicest person Emma has ever met. There's not a malicious bone in her body, and Emma hasn't felt so welcome in someone else's home in years. She's also kind and tidy and leaves leftovers in the fridge for whenever Emma's work schedule sees her at the loft. In return, Emma supplies free food from Granny's and tries to let her know if and when she's coming home. She also supplies the booze, because she's pretty sure her new roommate would be mortified if Emma offered to get her her own fake i.d. They sit on the couch and drink grocery store wine and watch episodes of Sex and the City together and Ruby is great and all, but they don't hang out, not like this.
Mary Margaret's prince charming of a boyfriend is pretty great too, though she thinks Killian might like David even more than his girlfriend does. The four of them have a movie night towards the end of the month and it makes Emma feel almost like an adult, like someone who has their shit together, hosting couples night in the apartment that she shares with her friend.
It's all almost too good to be true, but as the test run comes to an end and Mary Margaret asks her if she'd like to stay, Emma's more than willing to let it go on. And if she pinches herself a little more often, it's just because when she got out of prison a little over a year earlier she never dared to think that life could get so good so quick.
It's the middle of August and Killian is hanging out at the diner waiting for her shift to be over so they can grab a late dinner together. She's busy in the back, filling out the order for the next week so that it's ready when Granny comes in in the morning. Emma's just about finished when she glances over at the feed from the security camera and sees that Killian's at the counter talking to some girl she's never seen before.
And no, she's not jealous, but she is a little curious. There's something about the body language on the tiny monitor (Killian stiff and clenched, the girl leaning into his space) that puts a bad feeling in her gut and that, more than anything, is what makes her set the inventory form aside and head back out front.
"What, you're too good now to grab a drink with an old friend?" she hears just before turning the corner.
"We are not friends," Killian growls.
Emma takes a breath and throws her shoulders back as if she wasn't just eavesdropping, walking out front with a smile on her face. She goes straight up to the two of them and leans over the counter to give Killian a quick peck.
"I'm almost done. You okay to go soon?"
The other girl laughs. "Never pegged you as having a thing for blondes," she says, standing and looking Emma up and down. "Frankly, I don't see the appeal. Let me know if you change your mind."
"Not bloody likely," Killian retorts.
"We'll see," she shrugs and turns to walk out of the diner. They both watch her go, and Emma rolls her eyes at the obvious sway she puts into her hips. There's just something about her that doesn't sit right, though it probably has as much to do with how openly hostile Killian was than anything else. (He can swear like a sailor but her boyfriend doesn't throw bloody around with random strangers.)
"Someone you know?" she asks once the door is closed.
Killian jumps at the question, like he'd forgotten she was there, and Emma raises a brow as he turns back to her.
"Not really," he answers.
It's not exactly a lie but it's not the truth either and something twists in her heart. Emma shoves it away and refuses to let the doubt creep in. Killian is good to her, good for her, and God knows there're plenty of things that she hasn't told him yet.
She chews her lip and debates whether or not to press the issue. On the one hand, he has never been pushy about her past and she's more grateful for that than she ever imagined she could be. On the other, they're together now. If he did ask, Emma would probably tell him.
Eventually.
"You said you had something to finish up still?"
It's bugging her, and she couldn't care less about work anymore, but she nods and gives his hand a quick squeeze. "Yeah, just give me a minute."
She dashes around back and puts a few quick finishing touches on the order form, hoping her distraction doesn't make her miss anything. (Granny always gives it a look over before she sends it in, but Emma's still new to all the assistant manager stuff and she doesn't want to disappoint.)
She'll drive herself crazy if she keeps on speculating so she squashes all her questions down before grabbing her bag. He'll think she's jealous if she doesn't let it go and that's not what it is. Not quite. (She's just anxious — her instincts telling her that something isn't right but not telling her what.) And she doesn't want him to think that he can't trust her, or that she doesn't trust him. They're supposed to have the whole night together — Mary Margaret is having her own sleepover at David's — and she doesn't want some silly thing to ruin it.
(It's not silly, but she doesn't know what it is, and she wants so badly to be wrong.)
Killian is standing stiffly by the counter when she comes back out but he pastes on a smile and kisses her cheek before following her out to the car. Emma smiles back and lets herself hold onto the belief that everything is better when they're together.
Answers can wait. He'd tell her if it was something she needed to know.
Not two days later and her willingness to let things slide seems like it's going to come back to bite her. It's the early hours of the morning, the tail end of her only overnight shift of the week, and she's alone out front when Tall, Scruffy, & Irish comes in and strikes up a conversation. Emma pours him a coffee and opts to agree with his good-natured complaints about the heat rather than question his choice of beverage.
"I'm looking for someone," he says after taking a sip. "And I'm hoping you can help."
Emma's eyebrows go up and she starts to make a quip about having a talent for finding people until she gets a peek of the mug shot he's pulling out of his vest. Closing her mouth, she schools her face as he places it in front of her.
Ursula Ketea. Emma repeats the name silently to herself as she reads the physical description that her new customer has added on. She's got about a million more questions about her than ever, but she's not willing to give anything away to get answers.
"I don't know her," she says. And while she may have seen her once, it's not a lie. She didn't even know her name before, and Ursula had only spoken to Killian when she'd come into the diner.
She can see the next question before it's out of Irish's mouth and decides to cut him off. "Are you a cop?" Emma asks, stepping back from the counter to put some space between them.
She's done nothing wrong, and she's got nothing against the police, but that doesn't stop her from cataloguing escape routes in the back of her mind.
(The justice system let her down in a lot of ways — hell, her public defender didn't even bother to file an appeal after she'd found out she was pregnant — but the cops who arrested her had only been doing their job by following up on a tip.)
(That doesn't mean she wants anything to do with them, though.)
Irish smiles and she hates that she wants to trust him. Hates everything about the situation, really. "No, but I do bail bonds and Miss Ketea missed her court date this week."
"What'd she do?" Emma winces after she blurts out the question but figures it's at least something any normal, curious person might ask.
"She robbed a bank in New York."
Her eyes go wide. "That's…" Not what she was expecting, she thinks. "Dramatic," she says.
Tall, Scruffy, & Irish chuckles. "It is," he agrees.
"What makes you think she's here?"
He tucks the mug shot back into his vest and takes another drink of coffee. "I'm good at following a trail. Plus, she's got a friend in the city from back when she was living in London. Killian Jones. You know him by any chance?"
Emma meets his eyes and she knows that this is the point where she has to choose. He says he's not a cop, and he hasn't said that Killian's done anything, but she knows. She just knows that if she makes the wrong choice it's going to haunt her forever.
Neal sold her out to the police so he could escape to Canada. She won't do that. Not to Killian, not to anyone. Not ever.
"No," she says, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know him. Must not be a regular."
Irish nods and pulls out his wallet, putting a five and a business card on the counter and sliding it towards her. "Keep the change," he says. "And give me a call if you think of anything that might help."
Emma chews her lip and nods, toying with a corner of the card as he taps his knuckles on the counter one more time and leaves.
Graham Humbert – Bail Bonds. She shoves the business card into the pocket of her jeans and downs another coffee before Ashley and Granny come in to relieve her. She's jittery the whole drive back to the loft and Mary Margaret is just getting up when she opens the door.
"I need to borrow your computer," she declares, kicking her shoes off and making a beeline for the laptop.
"Oh — Okay," Mary Margaret says hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know yet. That's why I need the computer."
Emma's opened a browser and pulled up search results on Ursula before Mary Margaret has crossed the room and sat down next to her on the loveseat, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea.
They scan the reports of the bank robbery together (Ursula and her fur coat-clad partner took almost 50k) and Mary Margaret doesn't speak until Emma starts digging a little deeper, finding the website for her father's company and even the news reports of her mother's murder eight years prior.
"Is this someone you know?" she asks in her gentlest voice, the one that Emma imagines her using on ten year-olds who've scraped their knee on the playground.
Emma shakes her head, pushing the computer off her lap and onto the coffee table in front of them. She can't pull her eyes from the screen though, staring at the year old picture of Ursula Ketea out at one of London's hottest nightclubs. She'd been a socialite over there, apparently, and was photographed posing with the girl she'd later rob a bank with.
What the hell was up with that anyway? Her dad was rich — it wasn't like she needed the money.
"Emma?"
"Sorry," she says, shaking her head again and closing the laptop. "She came into the diner a couple days ago and was talking to Killian. Then just now some bounty hunter guy came in asking if I'd seen her."
"You think she and Killian know each other?"
"He said he didn't, but the guy tonight said otherwise."
"Well, maybe you should talk to him about it."
Emma slouches down into the cushions, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her fingers over her forehead. Mary Margaret's right, but it's probably best not to confront him when she's exhausted and dealing with an off-kilter sleep cycle.
Whether she'll be able to sleep before talking to him, that's another thing altogether.
She's an ex.
"Of sorts," Killian says, his face a pained mixture of fear, embarrassment, and remorse.
They're at Granny's just before her next shift — it was the soonest time they were both free — and Emma laces her fingers with his, resting their hands on the table between them and giving him a reassuring squeeze. He's looking at her like he's afraid she's going to bolt and God, what a pair they make — his ex a bank robber and hers a watch thief.
He says he didn't know about the robbery. That he didn't even know she'd left London until she showed up at the diner and started talking to him as if no time had passed. He was a dumb teenager looking for trouble back when he knew her, he explains, and he'd left London partly to get away from it. Emma believes him, can read the open honesty in his words, and she really couldn't care less that he and Ursula messed around back in high school.
She opens her mouth to tell him as much only for Granny to call for her at the exact same time, asking to talk with her in the diner's tiny back office.
Emma sighs and gets up, giving Killian a too-brief kiss before starting her shift.
"I don't need to know every detail," she promises him. "I don't expect that. Just tell me when you're leaving something out, okay?"
Killian nods and the corner of his mouth manages a bit of a smile as he looks up at her. Emma fishes the bail bondsman's card out of her pocket and leaves it for him on the table. "I'm not gonna call. Whether you do or not, that's up to you."
Granny hollers for her again so she leans down for another quick peck before pushing through the door to the back.
"Hey," she says, leaning in the doorway. The older woman is rifling through the desk drawers looking for something and Emma doubts there's enough room in the office for her to help so she just waits. "What's so urgent?"
"Ruby and I are going to visit her mother in Canada for a week," Granny says in her typical brusque manner. "I'm leaving you in charge."
"Oh," she blinks, all lingering thoughts of Killian and Ursula flying out the window as she takes in this announcement. "Okay. When?"
"Tomorrow."
Emma opens her mouth to protest but Granny waves a hand dismissively before she can get a word out.
"It's last minute, I know. But Anita's off studying wolves and out of the blue just invites Ruby to visit her before school starts. Like some of us don't have real jobs and responsibilities."
"And you… have to go with her?"
Her boss shoves a bottle of pills into her massive purse and puts her hands on her hips. "If I let that girl go to the northern wilderness alone, knowing my daughter? She won't ever make it back."
Emma bites her lip and nods, her brain running through all the things she's going to suddenly be in charge of.
"You'll be fine, don't worry," she says. "The schedule's already made up, and everything else is just business as usual. You'll have to send the order in for next week, but you've done the inventory and the banking before so there shouldn't be any problems."
"Is there a number for where you'll be staying?"
"I doubt it. I'll count myself lucky if I don't have to sleep on the ground. But you can try Ruby's cellphone if something comes up. Maybe we'll have reception in the middle of nowhere, who knows?"
"Right," she says blankly.
Emma doesn't like it when she can't see things coming and she has the distinct feeling that not everything is going to be as smooth as Granny seems to think.
"I have to get home and pack. You're alright here?"
She nods. The current shift is the least of her worries.
Granny squeezes past her out of the office and Emma stays standing in the doorway, watching the feed from the security camera without really registering it.
"Emma?" she hears.
She turns to see Granny standing by the back door, hip resting against the push handle.
"I wouldn't put you in charge if I didn't think you could do it."
Emma nods and puts on what she's sure is still a hesitant smile. "I can do it," she repeats, more for herself than her boss.
Granny smiles, big and wide. "That's a girl," she says.
Emma manages to not run the diner into the ground the first few days, though she wouldn't be surprised if she collapses at some point from all the running around. She knows she should probably be delegating better, but she'll run herself ragged for a week if it means making sure everything goes well. Besides, the quickly approaching school year means students are back in the city which means that business picks up while Granny is away to the point where Emma seriously considers crashing in the garage she once called home. Mary Margaret and Killian team up to make sure she eats and sleeps but she still relies on an abnormal amount of coffee to get by, splitting her own shifts so that she's there for the busiest parts of each day and hanging around at night when she needs to get administrative stuff done.
It's under control though, and she doesn't mind the even crazier than normal hours if it means Granny coming back to find everything in top shape. Four days in and she even gives herself a full night off, leaving the diner along with the rest of the dinner crew. She sets her alarm to go in for eight the next morning and watches a bit of tv before going up to bed.
Naturally, that's when the flood happens.
The call comes at one in the morning from their new overnight waitress, Anna. The men's washroom has flooded and there's water everywhere so Emma drags herself out of bed and drives back to work, switching the 'open' sign off as soon as she's in the door.
It's a mess. It had been raining when she'd left work but it must have poured while she slept because it was clearly too much for the system to handle. There's over an inch of water throughout the diner that came up from the drain in the floor and she's just glad that it seems to have stopped. Anna and Anton are working with mops and brooms in the back, trying to push the water out the door and Emma grabs a push broom and pitches in.
It takes them two hours to get the water out and give the whole place a pass with the mop. Emma's socks are soaked through her shoes and her pants are wet halfway up her calf despite repeated attempts to roll them up. She sinks into a booth once they're done and Anna joins her, flopping down on the other side like it were a couch. Emma looks at her and then up at Anton standing behind the counter and sighs.
"Go home," she says. "Get some sleep. I'll come back to open with the morning shift and call the insurance."
"Are you sure?" Anna asks.
"Yeah," she says. She's definitely sure. And she's never wearing these socks ever again.
"I'll call my sister to come pick me up."
"I'll take you," Anton says before turning to Emma. "You go home."
She smiles up at him, never more grateful for his steady presence. "Yes, boss," she replies dryly, standing and pulling Anna up to her feet.
Emma switches all the lights off and locks up behind them. As she heads around to the tiny parking lot she sees Anna turning someone away, promising that they'll be open in the morning. She can't see properly through the glare of the streetlight and her increasingly blurry vision but for a moment she could swear it's Ursula. Then she remembers that she's exhausted and probably seeing things so she unlocks the door to the bug and blasts music on the drive home to stay awake. She's back at the loft and is peeling off her wet socks when it hits her that her phone is still on the desk in the office from when she was searching for Granny's list of emergency numbers.
It's the least of her worries though, really, and as she flops onto the bed at nearly four in the morning it's almost a little comforting to think that this is the worst night she's had in over a year.
Of course, just because the night was horrible doesn't mean the next day is going to be any better.
Emma gets to the diner twenty minutes before the morning shift is due to start, not wanting them to be surprised by Granny's being closed. She won't open until they're all there, but the least she can do is get the coffee machine going again. (God knows she needs it!)
That means that there's no one around to hear her curse when she steps behind the counter and sees the open cash register. It's been cleared out completely — even of pennies — and she immediately rushes to the back to check the stash of change and small bills that Granny keeps in her desk.
The office is a mess. Papers are strewn everywhere and the drawers have been ransacked. Despite that, it doesn't take much of a search to figure out that the cash is gone. Emma tries to reach for her phone, forgetting for a moment that it's probably been knocked to the floor along with everything else. The diner's landline isn't working either, and it's as she's on her hands and knees plugging the cord back into the wall jack that Ashley comes in, startling her enough that she bumps her head on the desk.
"What happened?" the young mother asks, her eyes wide as she takes in the mess.
"We flooded," Emma answers, sitting back on her heels with a wince. "Then we were robbed."
"Oh my god! We should call the police!"
"Yeah," she says dryly, picking the phone up off the ground and standing back up. "That's just what I was about to do."
But since the robbery is not currently in process the call gets listed as non-emergency and Emma winds up waiting almost an hour for the cops to arrive. In the meantime she fills everyone in, straightens up the office a bit, and watches the tape from the security camera.
What she sees almost makes her sick.
Ursula, waving to the camera as she dumps the money into her purse. She'd seen her the night before. Seen her and then let her over-tired brain convince her otherwise. It's enough to make her wish she hadn't tidied up already so she could throw something and have it not be obvious.
Granny is going to kill her. She doesn't know what the hell kind of point Ursula was trying to make, stealing a few hundred bucks from a family-run restaurant, but it probably wouldn't have happened if Emma hadn't gotten a little possessive the day she came into the diner.
Panic starts to set in, her mind filling with all the ways she could have maybe prevented this or at least lessened the blow — if she had told Granny about Killian's bank robber of an ex back when Ursula first showed up, if she hadn't closed the diner after the flood, if she hadn't ignored her gut when she'd seen Ursula the night before. But now she's here, the rug pulled out from under her, and facing the very real possibility of losing everything she thought she'd gained. This is what she gets for being too comfortable, for letting a place feel like home.
All in all, Emma thinks she'd rather be pushed out in front of a car again.
She needs to call Killian. He might not know about the robbery but maybe there's something, anything, from their past that could help — where Ursula might go, what she might do next. Wildly, she thinks that if she can get the money back then maybe it will be alright.
Only she still hasn't found her phone even though she cleaned up a little and the cops show up while she's wracking her brain trying to remember the second half of his cell number. (She had it memorized just months ago, before she bought her phone and plugged him into speed dial. Emma doesn't know if she's forgotten it entirely since then or if she can't remember it because she's freaking out.)
The police are nice enough. They take her statement as she explains how the diner was closed for a few hours after flooding the night before and that Granny is out of the country and currently unreachable. Emma shows them the security tape, and as they're taking it in for evidence she looks up and sees that they brought with them none other than Mr. Irish Bounty Hunter. He's watching her with a funny look on his face and Emma scowls back at him. She's really not interested in an "I told you so."
The cops leave but Irish — Graham Humbert, she recalls — sticks around, leaning in the doorway and knocking on the frame like he wasn't just listening in as she gave her statement.
"Can I help you?" she asks, more aggressively than she probably needs to.
"I was sorry to hear you got robbed."
"Join the club," Emma snorts, going back to searching for her phone. (Only the money was taken, nothing else, so where the hell is it?)
"Have you talked to Killian yet?"
"Alright, you know what?" She crosses her arms over her chest and turns back around, fighting to hold back the 'screw you' on the tip of her tongue. "I lied. There. Are you happy? I wasn't interested in maybe throwing someone under the bus until they'd had a chance to explain first. Maybe if you'd done your job and caught her already I wouldn't be in this mess!"
Her accusation hangs in the air between them. The diner phone chooses that moment to ring and Emma shuts her eyes against whatever new problem is doubtlessly on its way to her.
The bail bondsman hangs his head with a wry smile and gives her a nod. "You're right, I'll let you get back to work. And I suppose I should be getting back to mine."
Emma gives him a short nod but doesn't move until he turns to leave. Sitting down, she picks up the receiver on the fourth ring and gets almost ten seconds of relief at hearing Killian's voice on the other end before her heart plummets.
Emma clutches onto the receiver with both hands, her head buzzing as Killian tells her how Ursula called and taunted him about robbing the diner, how he's going to make it right.
"Please don't do anything stupid," she begs, hating that she's stuck on a corded landline and can't keep him on the phone and go after him at the same time.
"It's my mess. I'm going to fix it, Swan. I promise."
The line goes dead but she doesn't hang up, keeping the receiver to her ear and shutting her eyes as if she can get him back through force of will alone.
When the hell did it all get so fucked?
"Emma?"
She opens her eyes to see Ashley inching towards her carefully, like she's gonna spook and run at any moment.
She wants to run. God, does she want to run. But for the first time in a long time she wants to run towards something instead of away.
"Is that guy who came in with the cops still here?" she asks.
"Um, I think he just left, like, thirty seconds ago."
Emma nods blankly and puts the phone down. "I need to go deal with something. You're in charge until I get back."
She doesn't wait for any kind of confirmation, just grabs her bag and runs out the back door as Ashley stands there with a worried look on her face.
"Mr. Humbert!" she yells. He's by what she assumes is his car and she almost sags in relief when he hears her and turns around.
"Graham, please."
"Graham," she corrects, stopping in front of him. "Ursula stole my cell. She called Killian from it and now he's going after her."
"Did he tell you where she is?"
She shakes her head. "No. I don't think he knows for sure yet."
Graham nods and pulls out his phone, tapping the touchscreen a few times before handing it to her. "Enter your info in, maybe we can track it."
Emma doesn't even question it, typing her email and account info into the tracking app with shaking hands. He takes it back from her and they both wait as the GPS tries to find her phone and with it (hopefully) Ursula and Killian. Something must turn up because soon he's opening the car door and Emma has to run around to get to the passenger side.
Graham raises his eyebrows at her as she buckles up and she feigns surprise.
"What?"
"You're not coming with me."
"It's my cellphone, my boyfriend, and my boss's money. Yes, I am." She plucks the phone from his hand and looks at the map onscreen. "She's by the waterfront downtown."
Graham gives her one last exasperated look before apparently giving up. "Just tell me if she starts moving," he mutters, pulling onto the street and heading north.
It's early still and traffic is mercifully light. Emma doesn't take her eyes off Graham's phone the whole way down Storrow Drive, tapping her foot restlessly as they finally merge onto the I-93. She feels like she's been split in two. Like part of her is waiting in a parking garage while the other half rushes to get there before the cops. She doesn't know what kind of trouble Killian could be in, but she'll never forgive herself if something happens because she didn't get there in time.
"Ursula's the less dangerous of the two," Graham says finally, glancing over at her. "Her partner is the real sociopath."
If he's trying to make this better, she thinks, he's doing a pretty terrible job at it.
"You know what I don't get?" she says instead. "Why the diner? She couldn't have gotten more than a grand. Why even bother when you've already robbed a bank?"
Graham shrugs, conceding the point. "I don't think it's ever been about the money for her. She's after attention. She got bail because she cooperated and told the NYPD where the money was stashed."
"Where was it?"
"Top of the Empire State Building. Apparently she likes the view."
The pinged location on the GPS hasn't moved the entire drive and Emma holds her breath as they turn onto Atlantic Avenue. Graham parks in the lot of a tiny, brown and red lobster shack called James Hook & Co and Emma's out of the car before he can even unbuckle his seatbelt, running towards the little red dot on the phone at a breakneck pace. She can hear Graham behind her, panting as he tries to catch up, but she doesn't stop until she's passed under the arch of the Boston Harbor Hotel and is on the wharf, staring at the boats on the water as her heart tries to beat its way out of her chest.
Graham stops next to her and bends over, hands braced on both knees for support.
"She's still here?" he asks, completely out of breath.
"Somewhere," she says.
Turning around, he looks up at the hotel behind them.
"Maybe she got a room."
The lobby of the Boston Harbor Hotel is more opulent than any building she's ever been in. Graham walks straight up to the desk to ask about Ursula and Emma hangs back, barely even listening as he attempts to charm information out of the concierge. She knows she doesn't fit here, knows her presence won't prompt the hotel to tell them anything. Instead she scans the lobby, hoping to catch sight of Killian. He would have had to borrow a car from one of his friends; there's a chance they might have caught up to him.
All she sees though are hotel guests making their way down for breakfast and frustration mixed with hopelessness starts to set in. Emma's long since given up trying to stop the worst-case scenarios from running on loop in her mind. Her accidental partner may think Ursula's not dangerous — or at least, not as dangerous — but she's learned better than to expect that things will all turn out okay.
The Swans. Lily. Ms. Fisher. Neal. Every time she thinks she's found someone who'll stick around, life has a way of sending it to hell in a hand basket.
There's some sort of map exhibit on display showing the coastline and the Boston waterfront over the centuries and it makes her think of the way Killian is always going on about taking her sailing someday. She's wandered over to the nearest one without even really thinking about it when her eye catches on a small sign.
Foster's Rotunda. Observatory. Ninth Floor.
She liked the view.
Emma sucks in a breath and looks over her shoulder to where Graham is still standing. He's got his back to her and she makes up her mind quickly, dashing over to the elevators and slipping into an open one, hoping he didn't notice her disappear.
He may have let her come along, but he's clearly got friends in the Boston PD and she won't let Killian get in trouble if she can prevent it.
Emma doesn't think she's ever been in a slower elevator before in her life but eventually the doors open on the ninth floor and she steps out, quickly locating the rotunda. The sign by the door shows that it's only open Monday to Friday between 11am and 4pm but there are tiny scratch marks around the key hole and the door opens easily when she turns the handle.
The observatory sits atop the arch of Rowes Wharf and inside is a large, bi-level reception room underneath a massive coffered dome. Floor to ceiling windows provide views of downtown and the Greenway on one side and Boston Harbor on the other. The first thing that Emma actually notices, however, is the mahogany bar and the dark mop of hair visible from the other side of it.
"Killian?" she hisses, inching a little closer.
He pops up from behind the bar, sea-green tote bag in one hand, and she closes the rest of the distance.
"Swan? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I followed you. Is Ursula still here?" She scans the room but there's not really any place else for someone to hide.
"No, she ran out a little while ago. I was just about to do the same when you came in."
Emma balls her hands into fists, not sure whether she wants to punch him or kiss him. "What were you thinking going after her alone? Why couldn't you just phone in a tip to the cops?"
"Why didn't you?" he retorts.
"Because I didn't want you to get in trouble! They know you two know each other. What if they think you had something to do with it?" Her eyes fall to the bag in his hand and she frowns. "Is that…?"
"Aye," he says, scratching behind his ear as he hands it over to her. Emma opens the handbag to see it half-filled with cash, the crumpled bills all thrown in haphazardly. "I was going to try and count it before calling you so we'd know if it was short or not. I was bringing it back, love. I swear."
The door opens and they both look up, Killian tugging her behind him before she can turn around to see who it is.
"Everybody stay where you are!"
The accented voice comes from the entry way and Emma exhales in relief as Graham comes into view, flanked by a security guard.
Before she can get a word out though, Killian rips the purse from her hand and sets it on the floor in front of them, holding his arms out. "She doesn't have anything to do with this. Let her go and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
Emma closes a hand around his arm and steps out from behind him, knowing she has to stop things before they possibly get out of hand. (Killian's posturing is nice in a way, but it's not going to get them out of there.)
"Ursula's not here," she says. "She left the money from the diner behind when she ran."
"I take it she's also the one who picked the lock on the door?"
Emma's gaze shifts over to the security guard who loses whatever intimidation factor he had when he lets out a huge yawn after finishing his question.
She raises an eyebrow. "You'd have to check the tape. It was open when I got here."
Killian opens his mouth to speak but she gives his arm a squeeze and steps forward to pick up the green tote bag.
"Look," she says, walking up to Graham and offering him back his phone. "The red dot's moving again. You can either go after your bail skip or you can stand around here some more. But I don't think your cop friends would be too happy to find out you let a nineteen year-old girl tag along on your fugitive chase. So we're gonna go, and I'm gonna take the money back to the diner and tell the police that it was returned anonymously. Does that work for you?"
Graham takes the phone from her and glances at the tracking app before finally giving her a considering look. "You're a lot tougher than you look, you know that?"
Emma shrugs. "Never really had much of a choice."
There's a pause, then he nods and steps aside so they can leave. Emma waits as Killian closes the distance between them and she takes his hand, lacing their fingers together tightly before shifting the purse strap onto her shoulder and stepping out into the hall.
He wants to explain, but as soon as she gets into the car he borrowed from Tina the adrenaline she's been running on abandons her and she just… she just can't yet. Emma makes him drop her at the diner so she can deal with everything there first, hoping that maybe if she can get something actually accomplished she'll be in a better frame of mind to hear him out.
She's pissed. Beyond pissed, really, that he would do something so stupid as go after Ursula alone. Only her anger is mixed with worry and overlaid by all of her old fears that whisper in her ear and tell her that somehow, someway, she's going to come out of this alone. Left behind yet again.
He pulls into Granny's and she kisses his cheek before she gets out of the car, promising to come by his place when she's done. She has no idea when that will be, really, but he says he'll wait for her. Whenever she's ready.
(She's never ready, never going to be ready, but since when has that mattered?)
Emma spends hours at the diner, talking to the police and the insurance, trying to get things set to rights again. She refuses to tell Ashley or anyone else where she ran off to and stays busy in the back to keep from being sucked into the diner gossip machine. As much as she would like to try and head off the rumour mill, she can't get a hold of Granny for the life of her. But her boss will be back in two days and at this point… she's done everything she can. If she's to blame, if she loses her job over it all, then so be it.
It's mid-afternoon by the time she drives over to Killian's place. He doesn't even know she's on her way — she'd forgotten she didn't have a phone to text him with until she was already in the bug.
She's exhausted. Just so, so exhausted. From the flood and the robbery and the chasing after Ursula and the picking up the pieces and all she wants to do is curl up in bed with Killian and sleep for a week but she can't. Not until she faces this down. Whatever it is or turns out to be.
Killian buzzes her up and when he opens the door she's not sure which of them looks worse. He lets her in and then follows her through to his bedroom. The blind is still down and the bed is a mess and it's not like him at all. It's one thing if Ursula woke him up when she called, it's another that he hasn't fixed it yet. He shuts the door to give them some privacy and Emma doesn't know if Will is in the apartment or not, but she supposes it's for the best. Even if the confined space is making her skittish.
God, she wishes she knew what she were in for.
She sits down on the edge of the bed and waits.
"I, ah," Killian's fingers flex and curl at his side and she itches to reach out and stop him but she stays put, picking at a loose thread on her shirt instead.
"I thought you were brilliant today," he finally offers.
Emma tries to smile up at him but it comes off as more of a grimace before her face settles back to carefully (fearfully) neutral.
"I know that I…" he stops, takes a breath, and starts over again. "I know that I owe you an explanation but I wanted to apologize first. You never would have been dragged into this if not for me. We don't really talk about our pasts, but I know you've been hurt before and I… I wanted to be better than that for you. I'm sorry I wasn't."
Emma meets his eyes in the mostly dark room and she wants to reassure him, to let him know that he hasn't hurt her. But she can't. He still might, depending on what he has to say. On if he lied when he claimed to not know anything, on what impact the truth will have on them now.
"Why did she do it?" she asks quietly.
He shakes his head. "I don't know. Honestly. My best guess is she just wanted to fuck with me, get back at me for leaving her behind when I came over for university. We were… I was in a bad spot, back when we were hooking up. I told you my dad went to prison, yeah?"
She nods because it's one of the first things he ever told her, back in Social Psychology when she didn't want to be anywhere near him.
Killian sits down on the bed next to her, a careful inch of space between them, and runs a hand through his hair. "After he was arrested, I went into the foster system for a bit. Spent about a year and a half in a group home until someone figured out I had family in London still. I remember it was a week before my fifteenth birthday so I'd been in Boston for a few years by that point. Liam picked me up from the airport, took me back to his flat, and told me that our mother hadn't died in a car accident after all. That my father had kidnapped me and run away to America because she'd been murdered and he was the main suspect."
"Jesus, Killian," she breathes, covering his hand with her own without even thinking about it. She'd always known they were a lot alike, but could never have imagined anything like this.
He stares down at their hands and brushes his thumb softly against the side of her palm. Emma squeezes back in reply and waits for the rest.
"I was so angry after I found out," he says finally, raising his head to meet her eyes. "I wanted to hurt him but I couldn't so I hurt anything else I could instead. Ursula was the same, right down to her murdered mother and blaming her father for it. He'd moved them to London so they'd be safer and she hated every minute of it. We started looking for trouble. All the normal teenaged sorts — drinking, smoking, shoplifting, vandalism, you name it. Never got caught for anything, but Liam knew. By the time I had to start applying to universities he'd had enough. Said I could either join him in the navy or go to school abroad but I wasn't staying in London. Called us 'codependent' and said he wanted me to grow up before I turned into my dad."
"Seems like you've done pretty well," she murmurs, bumping her shoulder into his. Killian just shakes his head. "I let Ursula get to me. She's always known which buttons to push and this morning… You were right when you accused me of being reckless. I thought I could fix things, but instead it nearly cost me everything. Let alone what it might have cost you."
"It didn't though," she says. She can see it now — how he'd been just as terrified of losing everything as she was. Just as certain that everything was going to go bad like it always did.
"I don't want to be like him," he whispers and Emma's heart nearly breaks with the way his voice catches. "I don't want to wind up hurting the people I care about."
She crawls onto his lap before he has time to say another word, cupping his face between her hands and kissing him. Killian's arms wrap around her waist but his heart's not in it and she pulls away from his lips to pepper kisses all over his face.
"You didn't hurt me," she promises. "You've done the opposite of hurting me ever since we met, even when I was pushing you away."
He closes his eyes and she can tell he doesn't believe her still so she kisses him again briefly and pulls back, waiting for him to look at her.
Because she gets it now. They're the same. Kindred spirits down to their core. And while that means that shitty things have happened to them in the past, it also means that they won't ever do shitty things to each other. Knowing that with the surety that she does makes her unexpectedly at peace with what she's about to confess.
Emma pushes some of the hair out of his eyes and he finally looks at her, gaze searching hers like he doesn't understand how she hasn't left yet.
"Do you remember why you told me that your dad had gone to prison?"
Killian frowns and she drags her thumb down to the corner of his mouth. "Gold was going off about the prison experiment and you looked uncomfortable. I wanted to distract you but you weren't interested."
"You guessed that I knew someone who had gone to jail. And you were right, but probably not in the way that you thought. My last boyfriend — my only other boyfriend," she corrects, "He'd stolen some watches before we met and I offered to go get them so we could start a life together; figured it'd be easy since the cops weren't looking for me. And they weren't. Until he left me wearing one and phoned in a tip while he took off to Canada or God knows where. I did eleven months in juvie over in Phoenix. Found out I really hate the desert."
"Emma —"
Everything he wants to say is written out on his face — anger and sadness both fighting for dominance. Emma shakes her head to stop him, taking his hands and holding them close, needing him to understand why she's finally telling him.
"This morning, when you didn't know that it was Graham and not the police coming in? I was the one holding the bag of stolen money. And you tried to protect me. No one's ever done anything like that for me before."
"You didn't need me to," he points out and she smiles because she can tell that he's coming back around to her now.
"No. But it was nice that you did."
Killian lets out a breathless sort of chuckle and her smile breaks into a grin, her heart lighter than it's been in days despite their conversation and the heavy subject matter.
"I don't mind if you're not perfect, you know," she says. "Makes it a little easier on me."
It's his turn to kiss her this time — finally — and he sucks her bottom lip between his teeth before rolling them over so she's underneath him. Emma's body races to catch up and she scooches up the bed until her legs aren't dangling over the side anymore, her hands gripping his arms to pull him with her. Killian crawls overtop her, trailing a line of kisses down her neck and chest, muttering about how she is perfect, so bloody perfect, covering her skin in praise and promises. And God she wants this, needs this release from all the tension that's built up over the last few days, that final reassurance of having him inside her and everything being okay.
He mouths at her breast through her shirt and she yawns.
Killian snorts and raises an eyebrow as he lifts his head to look at her. "Are you tired, by chance?"
"So tired," she groans, not sure whether she wants to laugh or yawn again.
Killian shifts so that he's no longer horizontal across the bed, taking her hand and tugging until she moves up to join him on the pillow. He kisses her again — so much slower this time — and Emma can't find the energy to open her eyes after he pulls away.
"Sleep for a bit," he murmurs, pulling the blanket over them and settling his free arm around her waist.
And then, quietly, "I love you."
They've never said it before and she's half asleep already so Emma just hums contentedly, burrowing into him and the safe warmth of his arms.
(When she wakes hours later he's watching her softly and toying with the ends of her hair. Emma kisses him through still-blurry eyes and whispers "I love you too" against his lips.)
Emma always thought that telling someone — anyone, Killian or otherwise — about Neal would leave her exposed. Would leave her weak and vulnerable to being used the same way all over again. She never thought that it could make her strong. And yet that's exactly what it does. Emma's never felt as sure of anything as she does now in her relationship with Killian. And it's not the "I love you's" that they exchanged along with the tragic backstories, but the trust that let that happen in the first place.
Before, every time she'd put her trust in someone it'd been a blind leap of hope. Trusting Lily when she said she was an orphan too, trusting Ms. Fisher when she said she wanted to adopt her, trusting Neal when he said he wanted to make a home with her. But with Killian she doesn't have to just hope that her trust isn't misplaced. She knows it isn't. Knows that he wants her despite her messy past, that he's in it just as much as she is.
The two of them are hardly ever apart in the days immediately following the robbery. They alternate sleeping at each other's apartments and if Killian isn't working then he's at the diner with her while she finishes running things for Granny. Apart from having to buy a new phone, Emma gets a blissfully smooth last couple days in charge (after the flood and robbery, what else could go wrong, really?) and resolves to take a few days off of her own as soon as possible.
If she doesn't get fired, that is.
Contrary to her fears though, Granny is completely understanding and chalks it up to a streak of bad luck. When it comes to Ursula, Emma tells the same story she gave the police — that the money was returned anonymously. And though she knows some of her co-workers have told their boss about how she ran out after the robbery, only to come back an hour later with the cash in hand, Granny doesn't ask her about it.
She does get asked her opinion on a new floor though. Apparently a flood is the perfect excuse to finally make an upgrade or two.
The semester starts up and she and Killian have to work out the best times to see each other around his class schedule again. And with Granny back, Emma gets a reprieve from being at the diner all hours of the day. Finally, everything goes back to normal.
So really, it's almost not a surprise when Graham Humbert walks into Granny's about a week and a half later.
"What on earth do you want now?" she demands, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her hip against the counter.
Graham just smirks as he walks up. "Maybe I enjoy the coffee."
Emma rolls her eyes and he has the nerve to wink at her before pulling her old phone out of his breast pocket. "Thought you might want this back."
She takes it from him, sliding it into her jeans before fiddling with the napkin dispenser. "You caught her, then?" she asks, looking up at him.
"I did," he says.
Emma's not quite sure how she feels about that, but she's saved from having to think about it when Graham clears his throat.
"Can I ask — how did you know to look in the rotunda?"
She shrugs. "I saw the sign for it in the lobby. You said she liked the view from the Empire State Building. It was a lucky guess."
"It was a strong hunch," he counters. "You've got good instincts, Emma."
"I know where people like to go when they run. Usually I'm pretty good at finding them." She'd run often enough herself to be an expert at it, she thinks wryly.
Graham pulls out his business card and pushes it towards her on the counter. "If you're ever interested in putting those instincts to use, let me know."
Emma picks up the card skeptically. "What, like a job?"
He nods. "Your partner skills need work, admittedly, but I think you'd be good."
She chews the inside of her lip, not sure what she thinks about that either.
Graham raps his knuckles on the counter, pulling her attention again. "Think about it," he says. "And if you have any questions, give me a call."
She does think about it. A lot. It's in the back of her mind the rest of her shift and all of the drive over to Killian's place. They talk about it over grilled cheese sandwiches and he offers up his laptop for research when he goes to jump in the shower.
Bail bonds, it turns out, is mostly a loans business, only turning to skip tracing when a client doesn't appear for their court date. Graham works with an affiliated office in New York and he has a good reputation in Boston, which she guesses is the reason why he took up the hunt for Ursula once she hit Massachusetts. He's also often recommended by defense attorneys in the city, including the queen of them all, Ms. Regina Mills.
From the little she knows, it feels right. It's certainly up her alley, and a more natural fit than working in restaurants for the rest of her life. But Emma's done too much work to just be good at something. She wants to be qualified too.
It's Killian who suggests looking at Criminal Justice programs, settling onto the bed next to her in just his towel. Emma pulls up the site for Boston University, quickly finding an undergraduate certificate program consisting of four night courses. They're each only one night a week so she could do two a semester, have it finished in a year, and still leave most of her time open for work.
Killian hands her her phone from the bedside table and she fishes Graham's card out of her pocket, chewing her lip as she looks at the numbers.
"Not sure yet?" he asks.
Emma shakes her head and glances over at him. "No. No, I've decided."
a/n: The initial idea for this fic was to tell how Emma got into bail bonds, so while this is the end of the story proper it's not necessarily the end of stories in this universe. I love these two so very much, and there are a bunch of things that I'd love to see as they go forward.