Chapter Two
Emma approaches Mary Margaret and David's door, scooting to avoid the hanging flower baskets, overflowing with a range of plants Emma hasn't even heard of. Killian fails to avoid one of the smaller ones, and it hits him in the face. Emma doesn't even realise until she hears his hissed, "Bloody hell!"
She turns to see him pushing the flower basket aside with one hand, rubbing his forehead with the other. She can't help it; she giggles. "Killian Jones. Brought down by a flower basket. May his soul rest in peace."
He catches up to her, still rubbing his forehead.
He looks incredibly handsome tonight, in a blue, loosely buttoned shirt, and his leather jacket. Emma herself wears a fitted cream jumper and jeans, with her hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She didn't want to dress up for her closest friends, not when she's running on two hours of sleep due to last night's shoot.
She knocks on the door. It's David who answers.
"Emma!" he says, a grin spreading across his face. "Come on in." He steps aside, and she makes her way into the warmth of the house. She hears his, "Killian, how are you doing?" and the slap of hands meeting.
"I'm great, mate, how are you?"
She doesn't stay to hear David's reply, but heads straight for Mary Margaret, and pulls her into her arms, losing herself in the familiar scent of apple and cinnamon shampoo.
Mary Margaret's words are breathy in her ears as she says, "Have you told him yet?"
"Not yet," Emma breathes back. "Don't you say a word!"
"My lips are sealed."
They break apart and Mary Margaret's gaze falls straight on Killian who stands, a little awkwardly, in the middle of the room. His face immediately lights into a smile.
"Hello, love," he says.
"C'mere you,' she commands teasingly and he closes the distance between them with a few strides. They embrace like old friends, and it makes Emma wonder how many phone conversations they've actually had. Other than the one she knows about, that is.
"How's Hope?" Emma asks, when they finally break apart.
Mary Margaret's hands still linger on Killian's shoulders as she says, "Oh, she's good. She's asleep now, which is a first. She hasn't been sleeping at all recently, has she David?"
"Not a wink," he says. "At least, it doesn't feel like a wink when she wakes us up every few hours. Anyway-" He rubs his hands together. "Can I get you guys a drink? Killian, I bought you some rum this morning after Mary Margaret insisted I do so."
"A glass of rum would be marvellous," Killian says, removing his jacket.
"Emma? Wine?"
"Do you even need to ask?" she says with a smile.
David's responding smile is beaming. "Excellent, I'll get right on that." He takes their coats and disappears off into the kitchen.
Mary Margaret directs them into the living room, and onto the sofa. They talk about how things are going with Hope, and how big she seems to have grown in the last few months. Emma bides her time mentioning the new writer, but when they ask how work's going, she knows there's no scooting around it.
"The thing about that…" she says, crossing one leg over the other. "Things at work are gonna… change."
"Change?" says David, alarmed. "What do you mean?"
Emma and Killian exchange glances. They explain about Belle's meeting, and the drop in ratings. They talk about how the network have decided to appoint a new head writer, who plans to make "big changes", in the words of Grumpy.
"New writer?' says Mary Margaret, thoughtfully.
"Do you know who it is?" David asks.
"Not a damn clue," says Killian, as he drapes an arm around Emma's shoulders. "They won't tell us a thing. We're supposed to be meeting him next week."
"Scary stuff," says David.
Emma nods. "But I'm sure it'll all be okay. I mean, they're probably just going to shake up the storylines a bit, right?" She exchanges another glance with Killian. "But they did say people might lose their jobs."
Killian rubs her arm. "Don't worry, love," he murmurs. "I'm willing to bet my seven bathrooms that your job's safe."
"He's right, Emma," says David. "Have you seen the fan response for Alexander and Rose? I don't know what it is about them, but people go crazy for them. They'll probably get rid of some of the smaller characters to make room for new characters, and keep the main ones. That's what usually happens with a show that runs this long, at least."
Emma's not sure how she feels about that. The smaller actors would be Robin and Will, and she doesn't want to say goodbye to them. The whole cast have become like her family during the past year. She swallows down a wave of sadness.
It's fine, she tells herself. It's all fine. Nothing has been decided yet, and nothing might be decided at all, not in terms of cast. It's fine.
"Anyway," says Mary Margaret, standing up. "I should probably go and check on dinner."
They have a homemade lasagne for dinner. Mary Margaret has truly outdone herself; it's one of the best lasagnes Emma has ever had. Killian agrees. In fact, he's very vocal about it.
"I have to say this is divine."
"Thank you, Killian," Mary Margaret says, with a glowing smile.
"I chopped the onions," David says quickly.
Killian laughs. "And what beautifully chopped onions they are!"
That makes David smile.
After dinner Emma sneaks away to take a peek at Hope. She's asleep in the nursery upstairs, which is next door to Mary Margaret and David's room.
The first thing she notices when she steps into the room is the most beautiful sunflower yellow which covers the walls. She catches a tiny jumble of white cotton and amber skin through the white bars of the cot.
She approaches the cot, her heart fluttering in her chest, footsteps slow and soft against the carpet.
She appears over the cot and catches sight of Hope. She's seen her a few times before, but never asleep in her own home. She looks so peaceful. Her parents have dressed her in a white onesie, with a small flower on her chest. Her tiny chest moves up and down as she breathes.
She longs to reach out and stroke her cheek, but she's frightened to wake her. She doesn't want to disturb something so innocent, so perfect. She's consumed by peace as she watches her.
And something else. A deep sadness that she missed this part with Henry. She never got to do the late nights. She never got to watch him sleep. It was her own fault and she's made her peace with it, but at the same time, she's lost in thinking about what might have been.
"She's really beautiful, isn't she?" comes a voice from behind her.
She gives a start, and whirls around. Killian stands in the doorway, a slight smile making his lips twitch. He makes his way over to her.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you."
She gives him a smile. "Don't worry about it."
He comes to a stop beside her and looks down into the cot, a light in his eyes. His hands twitch, as if he longs to reach out and touch her too, but thinks better of it.
"Do you think they'd know if we woke her?" he asks her.
"Yeah, probably."
He takes her hand. "Maybe next time then."
"Maybe next time."
He looks into her eyes and smiles. He brings her hand up and presses a kiss to it. She can't contain her smile as she watches him do it. And for a moment they stand, smiling at each other.
They share a cab home. Killian suggested his limo but Emma would rather die than jump in a limo to go around the corner. A limo is more likely to attract attention than a cab.
They say their goodbyes to Mary Margaret and David, exchanging kisses and embraces before they step out into the summer night.
When the cab pulls up outside Emma's house, she decides to chance a kiss. It's brief and sweet and it doesn't quite hit the spot, but it'll do. She can't invite him in because she knows he'll end up staying the night. Part of her thinks she should invite him in - Henry's staying at Regina's, so she knows she could use his absence to her advantage - but they have to be up early tomorrow and if he comes in, they won't sleep for hours.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Swan," he says.
She gives him one last smile before she jumps out the cab and slams the door behind her. She runs up to her door and turns just in time to see the cab drive off.
…
The next week is a tense one. Everyone is awaiting the arrival of the new writer. Every scene that Emma films feels tense. Even downtime between scenes is tense. No-one quite knows how to bring the new writer up in conversation, and no one really wants to.
But it becomes unavoidable when Belle arranges a meeting for them one day during work.
Everyone makes their way into the meeting room, the air thick with tension. No-one talks to each other, but Emma imagines that's because no-one knows what to say.
Someone takes her hand. It's soft and warm and for a moment, Emma is confused - this doesn't feel like Killian's hand. But when she looks up, she's looking into Elsa's eyes, and they're dark and worried. Their arms brush. Emma squeezes her hand.
'Don't worry about it,' she whispers. 'It'll be okay.'
Elsa gives her a small smile. Emma knows what she's thinking. She's frightened of losing her job. The network was already going to cut Graham's character from the show last season. That was if the scripts hadn't been leaked and there had been a fan uproar about Graham. Emma didn't think it would have been a smart move, herself. Graham was a fan favourite. They saved themselves a drop in ratings.
They take their seats. Belle is already in the room. She's stood next to Grumpy, and they talk in hushed conversation, heads bowed. A small man stands next to them. He has a rat-like face and thick, black eyebrows. He smiles at people as they walk in, but Emma doesn't buy it. Not for one second. She wonders if he's the new writer.
Emma looks around, wondering where Killian is. She hasn't seen him since their scene this morning, but she knows he had a scene with Robin this afternoon. She catches sight of Robin at the table in front of her, and her eyebrows pull together. She leans forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns.
"Yeah?"
"Have you seen Killian?"
Robin chortles. "Yeah, last I left him, he was struggling to get out of his costume. They've given him even more layers this year. I'm sure he'll be back soon."
"Right. Thanks."
That makes her feel a bit easier. She settles back in her chair, folding her arms, though her eyes still flicker to the door. Elsa fidgets next to her. It's like she can't sit still. She brushes her hair out of her eyes, she taps her fingers on the table. Emma almost snaps at her to stop it, but then she remembers she's on edge. They all are.
Belle steps forward, hands clasped in front of her. Emma can't help but notice that she seems just as haggard as she had before. She's deathly pale. Maybe she's sick, Emma thinks.
She clears her throat, but no-one notices except for Emma. They're all too wrapped up in their own conversations, or too busy watching the stranger in the room. She gives another small cough, but it's no use. After a moment, Grumpy coughs loudly, and everyone jumps. The mumbling dies down as they fix their eyes on Belle and Grumpy.
"Okay, so, hello everyone. I hope you've had a good first few weeks of filming," Belle begins. There's a rasp to her voice, like she's on the verge of crying. She clears her throat again and offers a warm and comforting smile. "I trust you've been working hard. But I didn't call you in to discuss your performances." She pauses and there isn't a sound in the room. Emma's eyes flicker over to the door again. Where is Killian? "We're here because I'd like to introduce you to our new writer. Isaac Heller."
Belle gestures to Isaac and he gives a small wave. His smile is slow, like a cat who's got the cream. Emma holds back a shudder.
"Now, you're going to be seeing a lot of Isaac in the next few weeks. He'll be around set, so feel free to get to know him." She pauses to give another one of those bright Belle smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I know Isaac wants to say a few words." She turns to him. "Do you want to take it from here?"
He nods and Belle steps back. He steps forward. He's still wearing that grin.
"Hello, everyone," he says. Emma narrows her eyes. There's something about his voice that she doesn't like. It makes her skin crawl. "Like Belle has said, I'm the new head writer. What she failed to mention was that I'm also the producer, showrunner and director. The network has decided to give me this job in order to…" He pauses, his smile widening. "Work alongside the others to find out why the show has had a sudden drop in… ratings. I've been working on the new scripts. Don't worry, you will still film as normal, with the scenes that you have already rehearsed. However-"
The door flies open.
"Bloody hell, I'm sorry."
Killian runs in. His shirt is crumpled, like he's just thrown it on, and his hair sticks up in all directions. He's carrying his rucksack. He must have run halfway across set, Emma realises.
"Sorry mate," he says, as he crosses the room. He holds his free hand up and nods in a sincere apology.
Isaac looks at him, blinking slowly. "Killian Jones, is it?"
"The one and only." A few people in the room laugh, including Emma.
"Take a seat, Mr. Jones." Killian nods in thanks and sits next to Emma. He only just relaxes when Isaac says, "And don't be late again."
Okay? thinks Emma. Killian is never late for anything, especially not meetings. It's a one time thing. She takes his hand and squeezes gently. He smiles at her with soft eyes.
"As I was saying," Isaac continues. "You'll work as normal up until I give you the new scripts. Myself and the other writers have been working very hard on them." He pauses to give a wide, slow smile. "You might find they're a little different to what you're used to - we've had to make big changes - but hopefully they'll be to your satisfaction. I wasn't appointed head writer for no good reason." He gives a chuckle that no-one else returns. Everyone just stares at him in stony silence. "With that being said, you should probably - uh - all get back to work." He steps back and gestures for Belle to come forward again.
She offers him a generous smile and steps before them. She tries to smile reassuringly at them, but everyone gives her the same expression as Isaac. As Emma looks around at everyone, she can see they're thinking the same thing as her: Who the hell is this guy?
"Okay, so give it up for Isaac, everyone." There's a weak clap, Belle included. Emma is one of the many who don't clap. "So you know what that means? That means you better get cracking. We've been a bit behind on filming these last few weeks, but with a bit of hard work and dedication I'm sure we-"
"Actually-" Isaac says quietly, stepping behind her, giving her a gentle push to the side. "I wasn't quite done talking. I forgot to mention about the new actors."
"Right," says Belle as she rights herself, disgruntled. "Right. My apologies. Go on, then."
"We'll be getting a whole bunch of new actors, including someone else to join the main cast. We thought these bright, new faces might bring something fresh to the show. You will all be meeting them within the next few weeks when you get the new scripts. Until then, happy working."
He steps back and allows Belle to come forward again, though her own words come out stunted and embarrassed as she tries to continue her point. It puts Emma on edge. She'd never seen Belle like this. It just leaves her with an even worse feeling in her chest. If this is what it's like now, what's it going to be like in a few weeks when all the changes happen?
She shudders to think.
Killian grabs her after the meeting. She walks past the trailers, on her way to make-up for the second time today. The sun beats down on the back of her neck. She casts her eyes to the ground to avoid the sun, to the faded yellow grass.
They're supposed to be going in their separate directions to film, so she's surprised when she feels his gentle touch on her arm, and even more surprised when she realises it's his touch without even turning around.
"What's up?" she asks.
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Yeah?"
He pulls her inbetween two of the trailers. She allows herself to be led, knowing he must not want to be overheard. It's cool in the shade, a nice relief from the unforgiving sun. She looks up at him, but he doesn't speak. He just gazes down at her. A piece of his hair falls out of place over his forehead, puckered as he searches for the right words.
"What's up?" she asks.
"Gooutwithme."
She laughs. "What?"
"I said…" He draws in a deep, shaky breath. "Will you go out with me?"
"Are we not out now?"
She makes a show of looking around, gesturing to the outdoors, stumped, but he's not in the mood for her games. He just shakes his head, his throat bobbing up and down.
"You know that's not what I mean. Please, love. Answer me before I die."
She frowns at him. "Are you nervous?"
Why would Killian Jones be nervous to ask her out? They've been carpooling for the last few weeks. He's been her boyfriend for even longer. They've kissed on his porch. She spends endless nights with him and he with her, without even batting an eyelid. Why the sudden show of nerves?
"No." He scratches behind his ear, his tongue jutting out to smooth over his lower lip. "Actually, yes. I was afraid you might say no."
"Why?"
"What are we doing here, Emma?"
She tilts her head. "What?"
"I confess, I don't know what we're doing here."
"What do you mean?"
She tries to watch him, to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't meet her eyes. It's so unlike Killian. It's usually she who has trouble with eye contact.
"We take each other's cars to work, yes. We've spent many a night together, yes, but what are we doing?"
"You're acting like you've never asked me out on a date before."
"That's because I haven't."
Emma frowns. No… Surely, that's not true. He's asked her out before, she's sure of it. At least they've been out, haven't they? As a couple? Haven't they?
"We've been on dates."
He finally meets her eyes. "Are you counting rehearsals? Because if you're counting quiet dinners, we wouldn't even get one."
A wave of guilt surges through her. No, they wouldn't. They wouldn't even get one. She shakes off the feeling and gives him a small, teasing smile, bouncing on her heels.
"So… where are we going, then? For our quiet date, I mean."
Just like that the awkwardness is gone, and a smile breaks out on his face. She forgot how much his eyes sparkle when he smiles like that.
"Mm, I'll think on it. I know a few places. I'll pick you up tomorrow? Say, eight?"
"Sounds perfect."
He leans forward and this time she lets him, until his nose brushes hers and finally, his lips. She basks in his kiss, all her worries gone, the only thing she can feel for him, utter and complete love.
And she plans to tell him. Tomorrow night.
Thank you for reading everyone! Sorry I took so long; life's been a bit busy. But I'm a few chapters ahead so you'll get the next chapter soon! Let me know what you think!