Chapter Eight

Emma tries to keep it as professional as possible with Killian. After their awkward baby conversation — the only thing Emma can really call it — she's unable to look at him properly. Not because she's angry at him in any way, but because she's still reeling from the embarrassment. Even after Regina's odd little warnings, she'd never sat down and actually thought about what would happen if she ended up pregnant, or how Killian would react. Or how she would react.

But that's something she should have factored in from the start.

Killian, out of sheer humiliation it seems, is ignoring her. Well, not exactly ignoring her. They still do their scenes. Unlike the last time they went through a rough patch, their acting is up to scratch. Granted, they weren't even together at that point, and there was lots of yearning involved. But as for relationship-y stuff, it might as well be non-existent. Killian no longer calls her, or invites her around. He no longer tries to kiss her. He doesn't even hold her hand.

His lack of warmth sends a spark of annoyance through her. Why can't he just be a man about it?

Then again, she's not exactly manning up either. She knows she'll probably have to swallow her pride and talk to him. But if she thought that she would lose him, if she believed this little hiccup to be serious, she would have spoken to him by now. She tells herself she's just biding her time, but she's not even sure that's the case.

That's why she sits in the cafeteria, her chin resting in her hand, miserable and alone when August finds her. He's dressed in his normal clothes; blue jeans, a simple shirt and a leather jacket. She's itching to know what costume he's going to wear for the show. That's one of the things she loves about Kings and Queens — the costumes.

He spots her at the same time she spots him, and his whole face lights up. He points to the line and then to the sandwich in his hand and she gets the message. A few minutes later, the chair scrapes next to her and August falls down into his seat, dropping a sandwich, a water and a chocolate bar on the table. He pushes the chocolate bar over to her.

"For you," he says.

She looks at him, then at the chocolate, and then back up at him again. "Okay?"

"A little birdie told me cookies and cream is your favourite."

She raises her eyebrows. "And who might that little birdie be?"

"Elsa. I bribed her to get information about you."

"Stalker much?"

He laughs. "Believe it or not, you are a hard woman to get to know, Emma Swan. And your friends are loyal. I had to promise her a year's supply of doughnuts before I could get her to talk, and even then she didn't. I had to make other promises on top of that."

"Which were?"

"A year's supply of coffee too."

Emma smiles. "Sounds like Elsa."

"She also had to make sure my intentions were honourable. According to her, she can't give your secrets to just anyone."

Emma felt a small flame of pride in her chest at his words. It had taken her a while to find a friend as loyal as Elsa. Except maybe Mary Margaret, but she was more like family.

Emma watches as he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, revealing his short-sleeved shirt from underneath. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, swiping his water off the table.

"So why," she begins, sliding the chocolate bar closer towards her, "are you so desperate for my secrets?"

"Believe it or not, I want to be your friend."

"Why?"

"Because... " He pauses. "We're going to be spending a lot of time with each other." He unscrews the cap and brings the water bottle to his lips. "And I don't have that many friends. I could do with a few more." He swigs from the bottle.

She narrows her eyes, though she feels a flicker of kinship within her. He sounds like someone she used to know — a cold, closed-off version of herself before she found friends. Before she found Killian.

"What kind of guy doesn't have friends?" she asks.

"The kind of guy who never stays in one place." When she tilts her head in question, he chuckles. "Not a stalker, not a loner, but a traveller."

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Traveller, huh?" She hadn't expected that.

"Indeed. To be honest, acting hadn't even crossed my mind up until a few years ago. I hadn't wanted to settle down. I didn't want the day job. I wanted to see the world— all of it, in all its glory. The good, the bad and the beautiful."

"Then what happened?" She doesn't know why she's so captivated by his words. Usually when someone starts talking, she cuts herself off. She doesn't want to know more about them; she doesn't want to be friends. But August, and the way he talks, softly, draws her in.

"I got tired of travelling. I dabbled in writing for a bit and don't get me wrong, I love writing, but if I finally wanted to settle down, it didn't pay the bills. So I went for acting."

"You wanted to pay the bills, so you went for a job that means you'll never have a sure income." She laughs. "That's a pretty big risk."

"What can I say? I'm a risk taker." His smile is hidden only when he takes another sip of his water. "I thought I'd try it. I'd give myself four years, and if it didn't pay, I'd give up."

"Wow, you got lucky quick."

"It's not what you know. It's who you know."

"You knew someone in the business?"

He nods. "I guess I've always been lucky." He shakes his head. "But I've gotta say, I miss travelling. I haven't been away for a few years now and I miss it. I miss the food, the culture, the women—"

She smirks. "You're a ladies' man? Figures."

He raises his eyebrows. "Not unlike your boyfriend, I take it." Upon seeing her expression, he's quick to fix it. "I don't mean any offence, Emma. He cares about you, anyone can see that. It was just a joke, that's all."

"You two would get on," she says.

"I've not spoken to him much, but I plan to. Maybe I'll buy him chocolate too."

She throws back her head and laughs, surprised by herself. It's just the idea of August buying chocolate for Killian.

"I mean—" he says, chuckling himself. "Gods need offerings, don't they?"

She continues to laugh. 'What, you think he's some kind of God?"

"Don't you?"

She laughs again, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"I mean, in terms of acting, the guy is amazing. I can't believe he hasn't won an Oscar yet."

"I guess he has to do some films for that."

"Maybe he'll have some free time soon." His eyes sparkle. "You never know."

"You never know."

"Speaking of acting…" His voice lowers and he looks away, almost embarrassed. He runs his hand along his jaw, against his stubble in a very Killian-like way. "I wonder when we're gonna do some scenes."

"You haven't received the schedule?"

"I have but I've only looked at today." He makes a 'whoops' face.

"We're scheduled for a scene this week, in the studio. Have you even read the scripts?"

"Of course I have." He laughs. "We meet in the Throne Room, yeah?"

She nods. "Edmund is going to be received by Alexander, right?"

"Right!" His eyes fly to the clock and he bites his lip, making an 'oops' face. "Looks like I've gotta go. I have make-up in ten."

"You don't wanna be late. Let me tell you, you don't wanna get on Ariel's bad side."

"Noted." He rises, his chair scraping against the floor again. It's so unpleasant, Emma almost covers her ears. August offers her a grimace at the noise, before his face relaxes into that easy grin she's becoming accustomed to. "Anyway, Emma. I'll see you soon. I can't wait for our scenes."

"I'll see you soon." She's still smiling as she watches him go.

Then she remembers Killian, and their non-argument, and her stomach sinks.

Killian still doesn't speak to Emma non-professionally the rest of the week. He keeps his voice polite, his tone consistent. The tension is particularly thick in the few hours before that scene with August.

August is yet to show up, so the only other actor she knows is Killian. He sits on his throne, crown on his head, script on his lap. He must be going over his lines— his lips moving silently, his eyes flickering as they follow the words. She almost doesn't want to disturb him, he looks so peaceful and handsome. But she needs to say something to him.

"Killian, hey," she says as she walks up the stairs.

She has to pick up her dress as she walks. He glances up as she approaches her, his eyes blinking at being disturbed, and he smiles. It's a tired smile, but it's a smile, and it's genuine. She hasn't seen one for a while.

She sits in the second throne next to him. "How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, thank you. Just learning these lines. I'm not sure I've memorised them all."

"You'll do great."

"I hope so."

They descend into an uncomfortable silence and Killian goes back to his script. Emma noticed that his lips aren't moving anymore, and his eyes aren't flickering. He's not reading— he's just using it as an excuse so he doesn't have to talk to her. The thought makes her feel a little cold. Out of all the people she knows, he's the one person who shouldn't be avoiding her, or ignoring her.

She's not sure she can stand it any more.

"Killian," she begins, softly.

"Yes?"

She swallows, thinking how to phrase her words. This is… difficult for her. She's never been the one to do the talking, or to breach the uncomfortable subjects. It's always been the other people in her life and in terms of their friendship, it was always him.

But they're in a relationship now and people have to work for relationships, or they lose them. The thought of losing Killian is unthinkable.

"We should… talk."

He looks up at her. He fixes her with an empty smile. It doesn't quite reach his blue eyes. "About what, love?"

"About the misunderstanding." It's the only word she can think of to describe it as. About the baby? There was no baby.

"There's nothing to talk about. I thought you were pregnant, but you were not. It was a shock, but it doesn't matter now." He flips a page of his script, repeating, "Nothing to talk about."

She frowns. Okay, so she wasn't pregnant, but it was a big thing. It's enough to shake up any relationship.

"So why are you avoiding me?" she asks.

He keeps his eyes on the page as he says, "I'm not avoiding you, Swan."

"Look, I know what avoiding people looks like. This… this is avoiding." Don't play me for an idiot, Killian, she wants to say, but she doesn't. She bites her tongue. It's best to keep it civil.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." Alright, evidence. She needs evidence. She lowers her voice. "We haven't been on a date for a while. You haven't been round my house, and I haven't been round yours." It's true. Usually they were staying round each other's houses non-stop.

She doesn't expect him to look up at her, directly into her eyes, and offer one of those empty smiles again. "And whose fault, may I ask, is that?"

For once, she's shocked into silence. She hadn't expected that answer. She'd expected him to nod solemnly, to agree in that way he always does.

"I— Well— You haven't texted me." As soon as the words leave her lips, she realises how schoolgirl-ish they sound, and she cringes.

"No? Maybe I should have replied to the texts you sent me then," he says, looking back down at his scripts. "Or answered the mountains of calls I'd missed, or perhaps answered the door when you knocked. Or maybe I should have returned all the affection you showed me?"

"Killian—" She feels her voice falter.

"What's the matter, Swan?"

"I was giving you space." Her voice is soft.

"Were you?"

Emma isn't sure what to say. She sits back on the throne, hands in her lap, limp. She hadn't expected this turn of events. Every time she has reached out to him before, he's been quick to comply, quick to apologise. Maybe he doesn't feel as I do, says a tiny voice in her head. Maybe he doesn't love you?

She shakes the feeling away. She doesn't need to feel insecure right now, thank you very much.

"You guys look like the king and queen!" a voice shouts from the edge of the set. Their eyes glance down to see August walking towards them, holding out his arms, a smile on his face. "True royalty."

Emma gives him a small smile before she turns back to Killian. She keeps her voice low, as to not be overheard. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you. All I know is that things were great, and then they weren't. We were good, really good, and I wanna get back to that. I—' She sighs. "I care about you, Killian." He keeps his eyes fixed on the script. "But I'm not gonna follow you around like some whiny teenager. So either you suck it up and talk to me about your problems, or you end it. Because I'm not gonna sit around, wondering whether we're still together."

And on that note, she rises, lifting her skirts with her. She makes her way down the stairs and plasters the biggest smile on her face as she meets August. Though when he studies her, his face falls, just a little.

"You alright?" he asks.

She keeps the smile on her face as she says, "Fine."

She can tell he doesn't believe her, but he doesn't say anything else. So she tries to keep her voice light as she says, "Nice costume."

"Thank you."

He twirls on the step and comes to a stop in front of her, bowing. She can see why he's an actor.

He wears a lot of leather; leather tunic, leather pants, leather boots. He also wears a floor-sweeping cloak made of velvet. Emma rubs the material through her fingers. It's nicer than hers, and a much better quality. The costume budget must have gone up this year. Like Killian's character, August wears a variety of silver rings and jewels. A necklace hangs around his neck, sparkling in the light.

"I've gotta say, I love it," August says. "It makes me feel like a whole other person."

Emma folds her arms. "Not too shabby."

He laughs. "Not too shabby at all."

She's about to make a comment about how ridiculous his leather boots look, when she catches a tall, thin, rake-like woman walk — no, strut — onto set. She wears a ridiculous fur coat over a tight dress. But that isn't the most ridiculous thing about her. It's her hair, which is half black and half white. She holds a cigarette in one hand, puffing out clouds of smoke.

"Who the hell is that?" Emma murmurs.

August turns, his face immediately dropping into a frown. "I have no idea."

"No smoking in here," Mulan, the coordinator, tells her. She bats the smoke away with her free hand, the other clasped around a folder.

"It's prescription, darling," the woman says.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a thing."

The woman ignores her, but struts over to Isaac, who has taken to hiding in the corners like some sort of vampire, and opens her arms for him. "Isaac! My love!"

"Cruella." He steps out of the shadows, that smirk on his face. They meet in the middle of set and embrace, kissing each other soundly on the lips. Emma tries not to cringe. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"You know me. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I had hoped that would be the case."

During the course of their conversation, everyone had turned to see the Isaac and the woman — Cruella — embrace in the middle of the set. Though their eyes are are mainly on Cruella, and the hideous thing on her head.

"Do you think it's a wig?" August murmurs from between his teeth. "Should we rip it off?"

Emma has to hide her snort in her sleeve.

When it becomes apparent that everyone is watching them, Isaac turns, hand on the small of Cruella's back. That rat-like smile still hasn't left his face. If anything, it becomes wider with every second. "If I can have your attention," he begins, even though the room is full of silence. "I'd like you all to meet Cruella, a very good friend of mine."

"Hello, everyone," Cruella says with a curtsey. It's only then that Emma realises she has a ridiculous British accent. Like movie-ridiculous.

"She's to be our new assistant director."

There's an outcry from the whole room. Murmurings of whats and whys and also whos. Why hadn't they been told they were getting another director? Surely, Belle would have mentioned it. And why drop her in the middle of a scene? Surely, she should have come in when Isaac joined the crew.

"I wasn't aware we were getting another director?" Killian says. Emma jumps— she hadn't realised he was right behind her.

"Settle down," Grumpy bellows. "Though some of us— I mean, some of the crew wanted to tell you about Cruella, others thought it should be a surprise. We didn't mean to shock or startle any of you. But I'm sure Cruella will be an asset to the team." He sounds like he's reading from a script. All stunted.

"Thank you, darling. Thank you," Cruella says. "I do look forward to… getting to know all of you." Is it Emma's imagination, or do her eyes land on Killian? "That's all I'll say for now. I won't disrupt your work any more."

"Thank you, Cruella," Isaac says, and begins to clap. No-one joins in.

It takes a few moments for the chatter to build up again in the room and when it finally does, Emma can guess at what everyone is talking about. More than once, she'll see an extra or a crew member's eyes flash to Cruella, and she can see a question in their eyes that she longs to know herself. What is this woman doing here?

But before she can really reflect on it, Grumpy is calling for positions and they're rolling the camera.

The scene is a short one. Killian is sat on the throne for most of it, and August is stood in front, his advisors at either side of him. Emma stands near the servants at the side of the thrones, but she can feel the camera on her face. She doesn't have much of a speaking role in this— one line or two at the end when she finally comes face-to-face with August's character, Edmund. Up until then, all her emotions must be shown on her face.

"Action," Grumpy yells from his chair off set.

"Thank you, your grace, for allowing me into your home," August says, with a slow bow of the head. "I will be forever in your debt."

"Think nothing of it," Killian says, with a wave of his hand. "My home is yours for now."

"Thank you." Another bow of the head.

"And what is mine is yours for now."

"Your Grace is too kind."

Killian sits up straight in his chair. Emma will never get over this— she'll never get over seeing him in full costume, sitting on his throne. It makes her heart flutter.

"The feast will begin at 8 o'clock but first, you must rest. You will be shown to your bedchamber where you can bathe and change into fresh clothes. You must be tired after your journey."

Emma zones in and out of the conversation, but keeps her hands clasped together and keeps her eyes fixed on the men in front of her. Her feet are already starting to ache from standing so long and she shifts them, trying to be as graceful as possible.

Thankfully, they only do the take another few times. They're good at it, natural, and they work well together. She only has to endure the ache in her feet for a small while until Grumpy is calling cut and demanding they move onto the next part of the scene.

When their break comes, Emma's feet are killing her. Without Killian to keep her company, Emma goes to watch a movie in her trailer on her own. It fills her with cold, but she meant what she said. She will not follow him around like a little, lost, lovesick puppy. If he refuses to talk to her then so be it. She's said her piece.

The next scene they film, a feast, is in the dining room. Killian sits at the top end of the table and on his left, August, the esteemed guest. Emma catches Elsa's eye from her table and they smile at each other.

Emma is in the midst of pouring wine into everyone's goblets when the camera starts rolling. She makes her way slowly up to the end of the table, filling, filling, filling, until she reaches Killian and August. She begins with Killian's glass, but he makes no gesture towards her, nothing to suggest their relationship. Then she moves onto August.

"Have I seen you before?" August asks her.

Emma frowns in surprise. "I doubt it, my lord."

"But your face. It looks oddly familiar."

Emma looks away, embarrassed. She doesn't say anything else, but just pours the wine.

"What is your name?"

"Rose, my lord."

"A beautiful name."

Emma raises her eyes and meets Killian's from across the table. He frowns, but the expression is entirely Killian. She has seen the very same one in his eyes many times before. Before anyone can say anything else, Emma turns to leave and Grumpy calls for a cut.

"Amazing!" comes an unrecognisable voice and everyone turns to see that new Cruella person standing, clapping her gloved hands together. "Amazing, darlings!" The clapping is loud and echoey. "Beautiful, darlings! Amazing chemistry. I could feel the heat coming off you!"

Isaac rises also. "I am inclined to agree. Do you think we should move onto part two?"

"You ought to get writing those scripts."

Emma and August exchange looks and shrug. Emma doesn't know what 'part two' is and she's not sure she wants to find out.

They only have to do that scene a few more times, since it's only a short scene. She's glad she won't have to film the rest of the feast; big scenes like this almost always give her a headache.

So she leaves set, changes her costume, and decides to go home.

Alone.

This was SO fun to write! Mainly because of Cruella. I really didn't realise how fun she is. I might put her in all my fics. XD

Also I'm so excited for you guys to see the next chapter! Seriously, I think you're gonna love it. *Squee*! I am very tempted to post again tonight! Or tomorrow. What do you think?