Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show's creators.
"Come on, Jones, you're tired, I'm tired, go to bed." Emma stood in front of him, hands on her hips. She was trying to convince him to sleep in her bed while she had the couch. After her flashback that evening she wasn't ready to share her bed, even with Killian. But she'd loan it out to him since he needed rest more than she did.
"It's your bed, Swan. I'm not taking it." Killian sat on the couch in front of her, defiant despite the slipping shut of his eyelids. It was past midnight, the two having spent the night watching corny television shows. Emma knew Killian was scared of setting her off again so was avoiding anything that he thought might cause a flashback. She appreciated the gesture, the care he was showing. It didn't make her feel weak as it normally would. Because Killian wasn't trying to convince her that she was okay, that nothing was wrong. Killian just accepted Emma's past and made sure she knew it was okay if she wasn't okay, held her when she needed it and tried to create a safe environment for her.
"Which means I can decide what I want to do with it, since it is my bed," she replied, just as determined to get her way. "Look, Mary Margaret will be here at like eight tomorrow morning to practice since the studio's closed. I don't want her waking you up. Please?" she reached out for his hand.
Killian sighed and grasped it. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue anymore."
"You wouldn't have won anyways," Emma replied with a smug smile. She pulled him up and led him to her bedroom, stopping just outside the door. She gave him a little push into the room but stayed outside. She wasn't ready to go inside, even though neither was expecting anything. It was just a little too much for her right then.
Killian didn't try to pull her in with him; instead he let their clasped hands drop with an understanding nod. Before he stepped back he placed a quick kiss on her lips. "Night, Swan. Sleep tight."
"Don't let the bed bugs bite," she finished then pulled the door closed, leaving her alone and watching the white door. Killian didn't move on the other side of it for a long moment so neither did she.
Once his quiet footsteps moved away and further into the room she walked down the hall to her small laundry room. She had forgotten to get her things out of the bedroom before she led Killian to it and didn't want to go back and bother him. She rooted through the basket of clean clothes that had been sitting in the room, unfolded, since Killian's injury and pulled out a pair of pajama shorts and a big t-shirt. She dressed in the room, swinging the door shut to give her some privacy in case Killian left the bedroom while she was changing. On her way back to the living room Emma grabbed some extra bed sheets and a blanket from the hallway linen closet.
She made the couch into a bed and slipped beneath the covers. All is quiet in the house so she assumed Killian had already gone to sleep. Even though she wasn't sharing a bed with Killian it was nice to know that he was nearby. Emma buried herself in the sofa and drifted off.
A terrible screaming woke her some time later. It was high and keening, as if the person was in horrible pain. The screaming was definitely male and it broke occasionally, which made Emma wonder how long the person had been screaming before it woke her. It took Emma a moment to remember that she wasn't alone and that Killian was with her. Killian. At the memory of him in her bedroom she threw herself into a standing position and sprinted up the hall.
Emma opened the door to her bedroom a crack and peered in. Even though the room was dark she could see Killian thrashing in the sheets, face contorted into a painful grimace. The sheets were knotted around his limbs but did little to keep his arms against the mattress. Killian clawed at the air, as if he were trying to reach something. A scream tore through the room again making Emma flinch. She'd woken Killian up from many nightmares since the accident but never one of this intensity. This one scared her.
Emma crept forward, not wanting to startle him and cause further distress. When she reached the bed she grasped his shoulder and shook it lightly. "Jones, come on," she cooed. "Wake up, Jones." Killian didn't wake and Emma had to reach out and grab his injured arm to keep him from hurting it further as it moved around erratically. "You're safe, Killian. I'm here," she told him as she slipped onto the bed beside him. It never took this long for her to pull him from his dreams and that broke her heart. She braced his arms against her chest, keeping him still and called his name again, this time much louder.
Killian bolted upright with a final scream, head moving wildly. Finally he focused on Emma and dove at her, throwing his arms around her body and tugging her close to his heaving chest. Killian buried his head in the crook of Emma's neck, his face covered by her long hair. Emma watched as his shoulders began to shake and he cried into her skin. Emma ran a hand over his back and whispered reassurances into his ear. She wished she could do more but she didn't know what else to do other than hold him.
When Killian stopped shaking enough to control his own muscles again he pulled back. Emma reached up and wiped the tear marks from his face with her thumbs. Killian was blushing, obviously embarrassed at the show of emotion but seemed too tired to properly care.
"Tell me what happened," Emma said quietly. She reached behind her to the bottle of lotion on the bedside table and put a few pumps into her palm. With her other hand she grabbed Killian's injured one and started to rub the lotion on the burned skin, making sure to concentrate on the split skin of his knuckles. Killian was supposed to do that multiple times a day to keep the elasticity of his skin but Emma knew he didn't and she also knew he wouldn't really realize she was doing it in his state.
"It was different this time," Killian started. Emma nodded for him to continue and rubbed a dollop of moisturizer on a dry patch at the side of his wrist. She knew what his other dreams were. They never changed. She was curious to see what his haunting nightmares had morphed into. "It wasn't Will in the engine room."
It had always been Will before. The dreams played out as the event had happened, always ending with Killian pinned in the engine room before Emma shook him out of the nightmare. The flashbacks had always been about his own injuries, and experiences, something the psychiatrist had told him was common. Emma was used to flashbacks though, she could handle his. But this wasn't a flashback. She wasn't sure what to do about this nightmare.
Emma stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. She worked over his knuckles, moving them in circles to take advantage of his hydrated skin and the increased elasticity of it. Killian watched her rub his injured hand for a few long moments before opening his mouth and drawing a shuddering breath. "It was you."
Emma's eyes flashed up to him. It was her? Killian was screaming bloody murder because of her? Emma knew he loved her, she'd heard him say it enough to accept it, but she hadn't expected him to feel that strongly about her, to sound like he was dying because of a nightmare about her.
"I couldn't get to you," Killian moaned, pulling Emma tighter against his side. Emma ran a hand through his hair, making soothing noises as she scratched lightly at his scalp. "The flames were in front of me and I tried to go through them but they burned too bad. I tried to keep going but the pipe fell on me and pinned me down. You just stood there, screaming that I had let you down like Neal, that I was abandoning you. And then the flames got you."
"I'm here, Killian. Nothing happened to me," she murmured against his ear. "You didn't let me down." Emma stood and ran a hand over his stubbled cheek. She straightened the blankets and pushed the fitted sheet back over the corner of the mattress where it had pulled up as Killian thrashed. Once the bed was organized she pushed down on Killian's shoulders so that he sunk back into the mattress. Emma pulled the bed sheets up over him because she felt like he could use the comfort of being surrounded by the soft fabric, even though he had sweated through his pajamas. Once she got him covered she slipped in beside him.
She wasn't really sure why she did it, especially since that evening she had decided that she was not ready to share a bed with him, but she felt satisfied with her decision. Killian needed her. His eyes still held the frantic look he had worn when she first woke him up. Emma knew what it was like to be left alone after a nightmare. She knew what it was like to wake up alone and then have to deal with the frightening images by herself. She knew how painful and scary that could be. Killian didn't need that to deal with after everything else.
Emma slid her arm under his head and pulled him over so his cheek rested on the edge of her shoulder. She moved her head a few inches and kissed him lightly on his hairline.
"Go to sleep, Jones. Nothing's going to happen to you." Killian turned his face against her skin and kissed her in return.
Emma rubbed Killian's arms until his breathing regulated to his sleeping pattern, not really sure what else to say to him. Once everything was quiet she let her own eyes droop until the warmth of Killian's body finally pulled her under.
Emma woke before Killian the next morning when she heard the front door close after Mary Margaret. Killian's face was next to hers and he slept on, undisturbed by the sounds of Mary Margaret moving around the kitchen. Emma slid out from under the covers, careful not to wake him and pulled the sheets back up until they sat just below his chin. Killian sighed at the added warmth but didn't open his eyes.
Emma grabbed a sweater from the laundry room as the house had cooled through the night and went in search of her friend. As expected Mary Margaret was still in the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She turned when Emma entered, her practice skirt fluttering out around her hips as she moved. Mary Margaret shot Emma a look as she poured some coffee in a mug that told Emma her friend knew exactly where she had been, and with whom.
Emma accepted the mug from Mary Margaret and moved to fix it up while she waited for the inevitable questions. She let the ceramic of the cup warm her fingers; the removal of the warmth of Killian's body from next to her had left her chilled.
"Did you sleep with him?" Mary Margaret asked as she sipped at her own cup. Emma shook her head. "Why not?" she asked, clearly confused. She knew how the two felt about each other and that they had spent the night together, in the same house and nothing happened?
"Because he saw me have a flashback." Emma only told Mary Margaret because Mary Margaret had witnessed several of Emma's flashbacks, first hand. The first one being when Emma was asked to sit on a wooden chair for the first time after she was attacked, almost exactly like the one she had been hit with. It had been in a class and Emma had taken off, collapsing and hyperventilating in the nearest bathroom. Mary Margaret had chased her down and held her until the shaking subsided.
"What did he do?" Mary Margaret asked gently.
"He took it really well," Emma answered, not really wanting to go into specifics. "I just didn't feel like doing anything after. I actually was supposed to sleep on the couch."
"And yet you were in your room with Killian this morning?"
"Jones had a nightmare. Worst one yet."
"And you comforted him?" Mary Margaret was smiling wildly at Emma, as if she was unbelievably proud that her friend had been able to offer such support, especially after her own anxieties were triggered earlier that night.
"I tried," Emma answered, sheepishly, ducking away to hide her blush. She'd done what she had to do to make Killian feel better. She didn't need Mary Margaret making a big deal out of it. Emma moved to the living room and planted herself on the couch, officially ending that direction of the conversation.
Mary Margaret gave her an understanding smile, set down her mug then moved to put on her pointe shoes. Emma sipped at her coffee while she watched the ballerina practice, twirling around her living room, Tchaikovsky playing in the background. At least Mary Margaret kept the volume down this time, guessing that Killian would need his sleep after such a trying night.
About a half an hour into Mary Margaret's practice Emma heard the bedroom door open and shut and Killian appeared from the hallway. The dark circles under his eyes weren't as bad as Emma had expected and when he found the two women he smiled, something which was an even bigger relief to Emma. Killian leaned against the living room wall, yawning into his good hand, until the song ended and he could walk by Mary Margaret without risking getting kicked or jumped on.
Killian move towards Emma after nodding a hello to Mary Margaret who started up her dancing again as a new song began. He sunk down next to Emma and she turned to him, appraising his face.
"You doing okay?" she asked quietly.
Killian nodded, setting his head against the back of the sofa. "I'm sorry I woke you."
Emma reached forward and stopped the ashamed shaking of his head with a hand to his chin. "I'm glad I heard you and woke you. You scared me, Jones."
"Me too," Killian murmured before standing and slipping to the kitchen for his own mug of coffee. When he returned he looked cheerier, as if he'd shaken off the last remnants of his dream while pouring the caffeine. "What are your plans for today?" Killian asked as he sat again.
"Grocery shopping," Emma replied. "Unless you want to eat exclusively pasta for the remainder of your stay."
Killian mock shuddered. "Then you should go grocery shopping."
"You don't want to come too?" Emma asked, hiding the hurt she felt. She wanted him to want to be with her, even doing something as mundane as grocery shopping. She wasn't ready to let go of the domestic feeling she had finally found the previous night.
But then Emma caught the flicker of his gaze from her face to his scared hand. Wearing a t-shirt as he was then, the burned skin and patchy scars that sporadically marred his forearm along with the destroyed hand, three digits completely unmoving, held constantly at a slightly curved angle, was painfully evident. Emma immediately felt bad for being hurt at his supposed slight. Killian's reluctance to go out in public had nothing to do with her.
Emma leaned in closer so Killian could hear her over the symphony blaring out the speakers while still keeping her voice low enough that Mary Margaret wouldn't be able to hear. Killian's insecurities were just too private, even for her best friend to hear.
"I'll have none of that, Killian Jones," she told him firmly, grasping his scarred hand.
"Emma," Killian started, his voice cautioning. Emma ignored his tone.
"Trust me, Jones; people aren't going to be looking at your hand." She pointedly ran a finger across his cheek, slow enough to make sure that he caught on to her meaning. A little push to his ego would get her far, she knew that. Killian smirked at her as she removed her finger from his skin. "I need you to come and reach the high items for mem."
While Killian's voice wasn't as sure as it usually was, at least it wasn't terrified sounding when he finally spoke. "Well, how can I deprive my favourite girl of items on the high shelves?"